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failing-to-write-again · 1 year

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Does anyone else have vastly different appearances in their head for you in the different routes? Like I day dream a lot, like a lot a lot it's why I post sometimes it's when the fear overrides the need to word vomit.

TW: mentions of abuse, depression and just general fucked up. It's the diaboys there's only so much you can avoid mentioning

Ok so I'm gonna write out a brief description of what always stays the same in these day dreams. I play around with them being human or something else, normal or like assassin's or stuff like that. But there's a few things that generally stay the same. They're all Afab, with she/her pronouns just because I create women a lot in my head but you could easily gender swap them as I'm focusing on personality and general vibe the appearance I describe I think is easily able to fit on different genders or have a same vibe equivalent.

Shu

I've always felt Shu would match well with someone who deals with depression or anxiety, more so less severe cases as two sleep all the time to avoid having to face life people do not make healthy relationships. But someone who has some degree of understanding while also having a better hold of themselves as humans are getting better at learning how to help manage depression. Shu is old and I'm pretty sure he's not bothered to learn much about the modern world aside from sleep/comfort, music (that's a stretch mp3s are not used as much as phones also that bitch would absolutely be a waterproof wireless earphone hoe), and probably porn.

I think a natural leader type person would also suit. I know in theory it sounds antithetical to the s/o with depression but hear me out. I deal with depression but also due to my own personality step into organized positions as I want things done to avoid stress. I really see an oldest sister would match him as it's someone modeling behaviors that to the best of my knowledge Shu was never against having. It was Reiji rejecting him and the triplets being kept away from him that prevented that dynamic setting itself up. I really think if an s/o could get Shu to work on himself he would be trying to be more brotherly. I think out of all the brothers Shu and Subaru are very likely to have a happier relationship with everyone. But they don't have the tools and are too stepped in their ways to navigate without help.

I think they would have to meet in school or something outside of being a sacrificial bride, maybe an actual exchange student with strict instructions of no harm coming to them. Diaboys set up a pretty unhealthy dynamic and since they go cruelty first, then fuck up so bad then realize they're in love that the types that would benefit them "best" would be gone or killed already.

Someone with a good sense or sarcasm would be great for Shu too. Couples who laugh together stay together. Plus a match for teasing would probably be something that leaves a grin on his face all day long.

Shu: "You should really wear a longer skirt in school, or do you want me to look up your skirt as you walk past. Heh, lewd woman"

S/o: [as they walk past] "Why risk breaking uniform code when I can just wear nice underwear under it instead, then I get two benefits"

S/o: [stopping just before turning down a corridor] "There's no rant from Reiji for breaking code and you end up showing off how desperate you are. Lewd man~"

Shu: [in love]

I don't think any super genius level of intelligence is needed but someone with a rounded view on things and a someone who is at least vaguely informed about what they talk about would be good. It avoids the annoyance of someone dense but also isn't so book focused it reminds him of Reiji.

Reiji

Speaking of the spectacled suitor. S/o has gotta be smart in some capacity not necessarily an encyclopedia but maybe good at Chemistry/Biology, or a good strategist. Bitch aims to be a control freak and a future king or, route depending, advisor to the King, so battle tactics would be attractive.

He'd be into the type of woman who doesn't overtly dress sexually. Pencil skirt or pants and blouse with some heels are a great look and can be sexual when you want to be sexual but also just well put together when you aren't looking to get railed on a desk. Except, of course, for when he decides to get handsy he realizes you decided to forgo any underwear.

Nipple piercings. He's definitely into them you can't fool me it's all that hidden succubus energy he finds attractive in a partner.

Past that he wants someone who isn't going to stress him out, someone to be a voice of reason, and someone to relax with.

I think someone chatty could be either great or awful for him. On the one hand he seems so adjusted to over stimulation true silence may unsettle him but at the same time it may annoy him if he isn't interested in conversation. Same for the other side of the coin, someone too quiet would unsettle him cause he won't know what your thinking, but at the same time it might be nice to sit in silence and read.

I've always thought Reiji would want someone tall like 5'10-6'00 as they can't be taller then him because inferiority complex, but I firmly believe he's got a back that is prone to aches already so not having to bend far for kisses or hugs would be nice. Or better yet someone shorter than him but still tall for a woman, so wearing heels gets here to be like 5'11" to 6ft.

Reiji does like humor and spontaneity sometimes. I think a stiff lover would drain him, nobody wants to actually date themselves. Again the older sister type (stereotype I know) would suit, as generally older sisters are pushed to mature fast like he was, except generally it's not as severe as him and older sisters are statistically the most likely to have read about or been to therapy to undo some of the behaviors that aren't as healthy.

[Loud music or something playing]

Reiji: [going to stand up] I swear can nobody keep order in this house...

S/o: [Gently touches his hand] They've yet to make a crash and it's coming from Ayato's room. I say we turn on the record player to drown it out for now. It's not your job to be their dad Sweetness, and all your doing is giving yourself grey hairs

Reiji: [sitting back down] I suppose I could finish this chapter-

[CRASH]

S/o: [quickly stands up and starts to walk to the door, lots of heel clicking] I swear that boy has to ruin every quiet moment I can grasp for us. Wait there.

Reiji: [feels very loved for and is confused as to why that gave him a boner]

I don't think he'd enjoy a dom much but a switch who prefers to sub but isn't against them taking a more gentle lead (not the kinky shit he's into I don't think you'd actually get a whip near him in a healthy relationship).

Ayato

This bitch is tricky. Like I think with the except of Subaru the Sakamakis get worse the younger they are. I feel that's why the triplets never appealed to me they seemed harder to redeem. I could see Shu, Reiji, or Subaru potentially getting better with Reiji least likely but the triplets are... messy.

That being said I think Ayato is definitely going to have to be a least a little bit on the road to being more balanced by the time he meets this s/o.

An s/o who is modern would definitely appeal in my opinion. Video games, outfits, music all that good culture stuff that Ayato is a spectator not a player in right now. He is still old as shit and he hasn't got non...any friends so he doesn't have a lens to learn the culture, all he can do is watch.

Ayato is one of the highest sex driven characters in the games (he sleeps with Yui the most because it uses the underwear sprite almost every time they sleep together indicating it ain't just dreaming happening) I think that may be part possessive part teenage boy. So someone with an interest in partaking is probably important for drive balance. To be clear I don't necessarily mean sexy here, more so that giddy first time giggles type person. Someone who's excited to experience things with him.

That extends past the bedroom too Ayato was starved for activity as a child and is still as a teen so someone who knows what's fun and is happy to take him there is like perfect.

I do think Ayato's s/o will need to be a patient person as I feel Ayato going through therapy would mean a lot of breakdowns or tension in him that could lead to more arguments than potentially needed if they ain't a little patient for the smaller things. There is a difference between 'he demanded I make him Takoyaki then sulked when I reminded him we're equals in this partnership so I'll avoid escalating ' vs 'he has bitten me for talking to a guy, but to him that's just a display of love.' The second thing deserved a conversation then and there you don't avoid rocking the boat when it comes to dangerous behaviors folks.

[See Ayato with a hairbrush sitting cross legged with S/O in his lap] Ayato: So we don't like Jacob...

S/O: Well, Edward isn't exactly a catch himself but like c'mon he imprinted on a baby. Ayato: Beatrix and him were engaged from birth. S/O: Exactly.

Laito

Oh boy. Again needs to be starting therapy or unraveling what his mum did to him and what his culture has shaped him to be first.

Once done however I think Laito would want someone "normal." No baggage, or crazy lifestyle, or wacky habits. I think he craves something calm when everything has been so disordered growing up. I think it's why he likes crosswords, they're a weirdly normal thing in his weird world.

I think he needs someone with a lower sex drive then he displays in the games. A not uncommon trauma response from childhood sexual assault is hyper sexuality which seems to be why Laito is hyper sexual. I don't think that's him as a person, Shu would be high sex drive in how he talks but Laito seems very much to be shielding himself with sex not having sex for sex.

So yeah someone who isn't always in the mood, maybe they sleep naked but just because they want skin on skin contact. Maybe it's to feel his breathing better. But that sort of environment. Where the thing he's over sexualized: himself and women, become less sexual more intimate. He'll be thrown a bit at first 100%. But I think after cuddling while having his hair gentle played with or a shoulder rub he'll be welcoming this new part bodily expression.

Laito is smart, smarter than he gets credit for he's a manipulator with charisma to boot and I've tried a crossword they use a certain part of your brain that I do not use. I think he'd like someone who's not too dense but also I feel like he won't mind too much so long as they could hold conversation and read sarcasm.

He also would probably love a more modern s/o like Ayato. Imagine the shopping sprees!

S/O: [coming out of changing room] I'm really not sure about this dress on me Laito: It's the shade it clashes with your undertones, try it in a different colour. S/O: They don't have it in my size, that sucks. Laito: Why? fufu~ It's Chanel, she was a vampire just take a picture and I'll get the designer over to make you one tailored made. S/O: Are you sure? I don't know how close I want you being stuck to your dad, and all the weirdness you've mentioned. Laito: Oh please, as if he's bothered enough about the fourth in line.

Kanato

This one's hard man. Kanato, Ruki, Kou, and Azusa are some of the hardest to envision in a healthy spot tbh. So this Kanato is very ooc. Think: isn't talking to teddy even if he still carries it, has a better hold on his temper, isn't trying to kill you constantly... basically just not Kanato.

A baker or a cook would absolutely appeal, dates where they show him how to cook new treats could be fun. Also top tier tea parties man.

Potentially a singer, musician, or dancer could appeal as well with the shared interest of singing being there. If the jealousy Kanato has gets weakened a bit I think that could help him get past his "I sing cuze mum liked it" thing.

I also truly think Kanato is like Laito in wanting something normal after all the abnormal he's lived through.

sorry he's so short I seriously don't know what to write. I also do not want to curse you all with mega ooc Kanato discussion

Subaru

Subaru is by far the closest to being the same amount of traumatized some people I've met irl are. Issues still there with the whole punching walls in anger but the fact he seems to punch walls to avoid hurting people implies he is trying to work on himself but doesn't know how.

Subaru could meet his s/o as a sacrificial bride and I think he's the only one who could. If I remember his route correctly, he isn't nearly as sadistic in the reasoning for his biting, hes also like what 15, 16 looking? He is modelling the only behavior he's seen, and while that doesn't make it right it is less heinous than the others.

I feel the most profound importance for this relationship is someone who will not shout, someone with a healthy enough up bringing to view arguments as Subaru approaches them as entirely useless. He will probably still have tantrums at first but having someone entirely unwilling to let communication break down on their end will push Subaru to do the same.

Subaru also does not seem to actually want much at all. He just wants a break, poor thing. If the S/O were to be a sacrificial bride, I think he'd be the one to pull a run away. I don't see Karl caring much here, Subaru is just a consequence of his vile habits as far as Karl is concerned.

From there I do think it's just a normal therapist and probably turning the S/O to a vampire.

[S/O and Subaru in some nice meadow resting on a blanket by a stream. Think flowers everywhere under a gently warm sun.] S/O: I've successfully lasted a week without accidentally breaking anything! Subaru: HAHA! Well done but don't go expecting any prizes I could do that shit. S/O: Fair, your 3 year pin is coming up to. We should probably do something for it. Subaru: Well... there is one thing... [getting up to one knee]

Ruki

oh look what we have here. An endgelord.

Seriously Ruki infuriates me from a character point at times. They are meant to be somewhat foils to the Sakamakis, and for Ruki in particular his behavior is a mirror to Reiji and his ego is closer to Ayato but with Reiji type mannerisms.

So he likes reading, came from nobility but saw the absolute worse of humanity to then re-find a reason to care for others with his brothers. Ok cool, then he dies in an attempt to escape to then have Karl take pity on him and revive him as his subordinate. SO WHY DOES HE HATE POOR PEOPLE!?

Like whenever I sit down to think about it Ruki's sheer cruelty lines up with nothing other than abused children turn into abusers which is a dog-shit and wrong opinion. Like he doesn't have to be pally, he can be a kuudere, he can be jaded. But having him be so sadistic just makes him what he hated, a spoiled rich man taking joy in using his power over others.

But this is about suited partners. So for this fucker I prescribe what he wishes he was. Now this is the material worth much more work and maybe it will get that, I am currently uncertain.

So, let's be real that orphanage still existed after the Mukamis. So my little world I've made with all that maladaptive day dreaming I do. In that world just to show Ruki as not as above everyone as he thinks, his soulmate type S/O as well as some if not all the other S/Os were there either at the same time or sequentially. Ruki got his escape plan from the work of a girl he viewed as too stupid to pull it off, aka S/O. When the boys escape obviously torture happens to see if anyone knows anything, and the boys failed the escape. This is used by the S/O to advise her sisters to change course slightly.

They do escape and Karl realizes very quickly he got the less advantageous group in terms of strategy. He would more than likely approach these girls, maybe they stay human for quite a while but eventually do need to be turned for the pure sake of time.

So Ruki gets introduce when he comes to visit Karl to update on the whole Eve thing only to see S/O. Standing there talking with Karl as if you're equals as he's laughing at some comment. Karl introducing them as his right hand man so to speak. Seeing that you get to live with Karl and you glaring.

After some prodding due to jealousy causing him to take out his insecurities on you in the form of unwanted commentary, you snap. You openly call him out on his failings, how you are what he wishes he was and how you don't masquerade as the same tormentors that made both your childhoods hell.

Eventually (I'm not giving a whole slow burn fic away for free people), he gets whipped something bad. Having to face the fact that he is exactly what he judges in humans so much. I don't imagine many would forgive him, hence why S/O to me cannot be anyone other than such a strong person to have survived and still be so openly kind.

No dialogue here so I can pretend these all got fair treatment.

Yuma

So big boy farmer. His sadism doesn't fully track with me same as Ruki but Yuma has more redeeming character traits that offset the cruelty. He also seems to truly only carry out the Eden project due to loyalty to Karl, he is a fiercely loyal person.

As said for Ruki I love the idea of the Mukami S/Os being sisters from the orphanage. Yumas S/O would probably also have a strong sense of loyalty to Ruki's S/O. The main exception being her loyalty to Karl does not cause her to be in any way sadistic. While Karl is fully ready to drop kick a child the S/O does not see that behavior appropriate at all regardless of her vampire-ism.

Having to deal with pining for a girl who will not date him as he currently treats women may cause him to change for the sake of placating her sure. But once identities are revealed and Yuma learns that the reason the S/O is so anti-cruelty is due to the orphanage I think Yuma would be one of the ones more open to change. Like Ruki, the reflection isn't so nice once the glass was polished.

He just wants a farm and probably kids or dogs lets be real here.

Kou

Once again an edgelord. Who doesn't at all understand give and take as much as he harps on about it. I may have low enough standards to crush on these boys but a hypocrite is TOO LOW.

I'm sounding like a broken record here but a fellow orphan escapee S/O as the vector for Kou getting called out on his bs is great.

Also full on enemies to lovers vibes. One little head canon is what if the S/O at the request of Karl gave up an eye, the eye then enchanted for Kou. Having to stand across from someone who will not buy the excuse of his trauma being an acceptable reason to harm others. Because you lived through it all, if not worse and still gave up an eye free of charge because Karl had this protegee who was so sad about not having two eyes.

I think Kou's love would not start until near a century after. Having to see you again and again after the introduction, seeing how you and your sister's are Karl's jewels as you are so effective because of your humanity. He's prone to envy let's be frank.

But once he opens up to the fact he could change and be like you, maybe after having to work with you, he begins to warm up to it all.

Azusa

Azusa is one like Kanato that I am unsure if I know how to treat.

The love of pain of his would put so much emotional labor on an S/O that just isn't fair. The only relationship I would feel comfortable writing on would be a post therapy and self work Azusa who doesn't make masochism his main personality trait.

He is gentle in disposition so a gentle S/O would match well. Or maybe an extroverted S/O to bring him out his shell a bit, post masochism recovery.

Yeah if any Azusa fans read this and have ideas please write you own and sent it to me I am really curious of seeing this from the perspective on someone who has a connection to him.

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 1 year

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🗒️ 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.

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln @r13mar @rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @railingsofsorrow @apolloroid @thatweirdoleigh @misswe03 @eat-cake @felinegrate @cute-freak27 @fayeatheart @archangelslollipop @aonungs-tsahik @sleepneverheardofher @heartbreakgrill @whatsupb18 @enchantedlandcoffee @trikigirl271 @dreamingwithrafe @her-violent-delights @witchcraftandgeekness @dreamingwithrafe @acixsracix Comment or DM me if you want to be added to my tag list!

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honoviadakai · 4 months

Text

What I think the Diaboys smell like: Mukami borthers edition

(CW: mentions of self harm in Azusa’s section and blood in all sections)

Ruki:

Top notes: old books, Tea, Herbs and spices

Bottom notes: Garlic, ink, charcoal

Ah yes

A refined smell from a refined man

This guy smells the least like a vampire

Like, the Mukami’s in general smell a tad more human than vampire, but Ruki smells the most human out of the 4 of them

And humans would never think he was a vampire based off smell alone anyway

Now in case you didn’t know, Ruki’s favorite food is soup

Why is that important?

Well it’s cuz ya boi smells vaguely of garlic, herbs and spices

Most people will believe he’s an Italian man before the idea of him being a vampire is on the table 😂

Tbh it works out in his favor and for this reason, he’s the most human passing out of all the boys

However he does give old man vibes

Why?

Cuz he smells like he works in a library that was built during ancient Roman times

He smells so concerningly of old books that I don’t blame anyone that assumes his skin is actually made of paper

He also smells like he bleeds tea

To be fair…he probably does

Caffeine doesn’t affect vampires in the same way it does humans so you bet your bottom dollar he’s drinking tea every chance he gets

You have no idea how happy he is that tea and coffee don’t give him heartburn or acid reflux anymore (╯ ‿ ╰,)

But he does go overboard with his drinking sometimes…Kou and Yuma had to hide some of his tea so he’s chill out a bit

That day, they learned that vampires can in fact go through nasty withdrawal symptoms…

Thankfully he was able to take his mind off of that with his hobbies!

He has a few but the ones he tends to do a lot , outside of reading, is calligraphy and drawing

He specifically loves using charcoal as his drawing material!

His dad used to take him out for walks and they’d draw some scenery together

His mother was the one to teach him calligraphy

Doing either of these two crafts helps him feel close to his parents again

So he’s grown to love the smell of the ink and charcoal on paper

Sometimes he gets so into his work that his nails and fingers turn black by the time he stops

His brothers can tease him all they want, but he doesn’t mind it at all

He used to get much dirtier as a child when he worked on his crafts

So having the ink and charcoal permeate his skin in both appearance and smell gives him a sense of pride

He thinks his parents would be proud of him too

Kou:

Top notes: lilies, Gucci A Chant for The Nymph Eau de Parfum, berries

Bottom notes: Vongole Bianco, Cats, blood

Omg this guy smells so nice

First of, he naturally smells like lilies

Those flowers naturally smell sweet but super subtle

He also isn’t allowed to eat lots of desserts sometimes so he found a loophole and eats a metric fuck ton of berries when his sweet tooth is acting up

He’s not picky about the kind of berries he munches on, he just wants them to be sweet enough to satisfy him

So he smells very much like the cast of the Strawberry Shortcake franchise

And to top it all off, ya boi has pretty good taste in perfume

His favorite perfume is Gucci A Chant for The Nymph Eau de Parfum

It’s a very sweet, clean smelling fragrance that he makes absolutely sure to buy every 6 months

So based off all that you’d assume he always smells nice right???

Well…not exactly

First off, he is a vampire now and he does drink blood sometimes

But he doesn’t even smell like blood because of his vampiric nature

He just claims that’s why he sometimes smells like blood because the real reason is kinda embarrassing

So he’s an idol right? Part of his job is to sign stacks and stacks of autographs

He’s gotten so many paper cuts that he just starts wearing gloves

He has very delicate skin for a vampire, not as delicate as someone else on this list but we’ll get to him

He also smells like cats

He just really likes them so sometimes he just goes to cat cafes and plays with them

He also brings in strays and takes care of them

He won’t force them to stay if they don’t want to but 9 time outta 10 they stay so he just kinda smells like his feline friends

This dude also smells of his favorite food, Vongole Bianco

If left unsupervised, he will eat 5 plates of the stuff and he will smell of the pasta dish for weeks

Not in a bad way, he’ll just smell like he recently has dinner XD

@magnificentkidclamclod and I also came to the conclusion that once in a blue moon, this man will smell like French fries

Why and why’s it so rare?

Well for one, he’s just a big fan of McDonald’s French fries as well as their sprite so he will get it every chance he gets

Now as for why he rarely has it, it’s because of his manager and Ruki

As an idol he’s expected to maintain a certain weight and figure so he’s been told not to eat fast food

When his manager catches him he’ll just scold him and give him a slap on the wrist

But if Ruki catches him…it’s on sight

If Ruki even catches a whiff of fries on Kou, he’s running at him at full speed with what we blunt object happens to be close by

Unfortunately for the other 3 brothers, Ruki is a bit of a health nut and bans fast food from the house

Kou suffers the most and Azusa is the only one who helps him sneak contraband into the house

Yuma is true neutral on this tbh

He has a garden so he doesn’t care 🤣

Kou and Azusa will share fries every weekend at the mall followed up by a trip to the spa to get rid of the smell

Yuma:

Top notes: Dirt, Sweat, Sugar

Bottom notes: Blood, Fennel, Neem oil

Man is a farmer to his very core!

Doesn’t matter if he’s human or vampire, he’s gonna be up at 4 in the morning tending to every single one of his crops

And his scent always reminds everyone of this

He smells of the earth he tends to every day

He smells of the sweat of hard days works

And he smells of the fruits and veggies he tends and harvests

This giant bear of a man is the poster child of a rugged country boy 🤠

He also smells pretty sweet!

He eats sugar cubes so often that everyone’s amazed he hasn’t gotten diabetes yet

He also smells of fennel and neem oil

Those are really good, natural bug repellents

He’ll eat the fennel to keep the mosquitoes off him

He doesn’t need to cuz mosquitoes tend to avoid vampires but he did this a lot when he was human and old habits die hard

He sprays neem oil on and around his crops to keep pests away

All of these smells permeate into his being and set the gold standard of what your big, strong country boy should smell like

There is one thing that kinda weirds humans out though

He smells a tad like blood

It’s no where near as bad as the Sakamakis or the Taukinamis

But it’s juuuuust strong enough that sometimes his classmates will stop and ask him if he’s feeling ok

Thankfully his country boy aesthetic can save him from suspicion

Sometimes he’ll show them a cut he got from when he tried to clean the shattered remains of a pot and they’ll immediately drop the issue

Of course the dude who tends crops is gonna smell like blood! Hard physical work makes you bleed sometimes!

That’s all it is right?

🙂

He’s lucky he’s got such a water tight excuse cuz when he does drink blood, he gets a bit messy

Thankfully he cleans up after himself right away

Azusa:

Top notes: Blood, Shichimi Togarashi, curry powder

Bottom notes: Rubbing alcohol, fresh bandages, leather

Oh Azusa…

You beautiful, precious little masochist…

This one is the least human passing of the Mukami brothers and it’s not too hard to see why…

First off, he smells like the inside of a hospital morgue 💀

He smells like rubbing alcohol, bandages and blood

The strongest smell being the blood…

And here’s the thing

It’s his own blood that people are usually smelling

Yeah, sometimes it’s someone else’s blood

But 9 times outta 10 he smells like blood because he gave himself a few fresh cuts

And it’s usually a concerningly large amount of blood

He has the most delicate skin out of all his brothers

I’m also convinced he might have been anemic when he was human and maybe even still is

So combine all that and Azusa is basically a gusher

Thankfully he always has bandages on him

Unfortunately he doesn’t do much to cover up the bloody smell…

He does like spicy food so he tends to eat quite a bit of curry

So he does smell like curry powder sometimes

He also smells like his favorite food, Shichimi Togarashi

It’s basically like a seaweed mix

But it’s not enough to change very the weird bloody hospital smell he permanently has on him

Ruki does use the “He has anemia” card to make people less suspicious…but then Azusa gives Ruki a heart attack

Hell ask people if they wanna cut him

That’s not exactly normal human behavior so his brothers will step in and prevent him from doing anything to blow their cover

He also just naturally smells like leather

It’s very subtle but it’s nice!

As stated in Kou’s second, he also smells of French fries

He really likes McDonald’s fries…when they’re cold…

It weirds Kou out but he’s getting fries with his lil bro so he does his best to ignore it

#diabolik lovers #diaboys #mukami brothers #ruki mukami #kou mukami #Yuma Mukami #azusa mukami

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emikotatsuya · 25 days

Text

Sensation's Rewrite Prologue

I decided to post the finished rewrite for the prologue here on Tumblr just so people can get a feel for some of the additions and for some new readers to hopefully look forward to when I'm done rewriting Sensation. Anyway, I hope you lovely readers enjoy it!

Regarding human nature, morality is questioned in almost every decision they make. To survive in this world, they make so many drastically different choices that humans like to put into the vague terms of Good and Evil. Humans are also hypocritical creatures, acting on their selfish desires and beliefs. One person will choose and be seen as a good person, while someone else will make the same decision and somehow be seen as the bad guy. The lines are blurred so often that there never seems to be an actual line between those opposing sides. It's easier to call it a gray area, but only some people are satisfied with just that. Humans need constant reassurance that they are making the right choices. That they're the protagonists of their own story, and any minor inconvenience is the antagonist.

In the depths of a hidden world, behind the general public, those lines are more thought out and clearly stated. Forces beyond normal human comprehension exist and sometimes threaten their lives without them ever knowing. All because they don't harbor the necessary eyes to see it. Behind the scenes, the more or less good guys are Jujutsu Sorcerers. Those men and women have been born with the ability to see cursed spirits and can harness the cursed energy those spirits are made of to defend humanity from them.

As for the bad guys, it is easy to say that cursed spirits are the set-in-stone villains. They are primarily mindless beings that move on instinct. However, some have become more powerful and evolved to be able to think and even talk in some cases. They may even gain a humanoid form if lucky, usually only present in powerful cursed spirits. That said, it goes without saying that Jujutsu Sorcerers are not all harbingers of goodwill. Having powers no average human has can quickly go to the head. Even though this happens, you never see a cursed spirit trying to be a good Samaritan. Right?

I thought about what it would be like if that wasn't the case as I walked down the dirt path deep within the woods outside of town and headed to the tiny log cabin I called my home. Almost two decades ago, I opened my eyes for the first time. Born from nothing but the forest's foreboding, I took my first steps. I had wandered the forest aimlessly for days without knowing why I existed. The first few months after my alleged 'birth', I ran into my first cursed spirit.

It was small and looked more like a ball of flesh than anything else. When it had noticed me, it had coward away. Sensing something that I could not perceive myself at the time. Something compelled me to believe that somehow, we were the same species, or at least made of the same thing. Though, of course, at the time, I had no idea what a cursed spirit was or how they were made. It didn't take long for my curiosity to turn into panic once the cursed spirit realized I wasn't a threat and somehow bit my hand clean off. I don't remember what happened next, but when I came to, the curse was nowhere to be seen, and my hand was somehow back. After that, I made a conscious effort to stay away from cursed spirits. I was scared I was going to get attacked again.

About a month later, I finally found my way to town outside the forest. That was when I discovered what humans were. I didn't go down immediately, scared they would harm me like the curse did. I watched the humans go about their lives from the cover of the forest's darkness. For a bit, that was enough.

I was simply content on watching. Humans were so fascinating; they were of different shapes and sizes with similar forms. They were social creatures, I learned soon enough, and eventually, I longed to be down there with them. One day, I noticed a cursed spirit had wandered from the forest and crawled down to the town. That was when I first learned of the basic instinct of cursed spirits to prey on humans.

I desperately wanted to go down there and help, warn them of the dangers, but my fears had held me back. However, I didn't have to in the end, as a jujutsu sorcerer had been notified of the attack and had come swiftly to deal with the problem. They didn't sense me by some miracle, but I saw firsthand how strong they could be and how they killed cursed spirits without hesitation. I remember being scared to death at the thought of returning to the forest's edge after that, wondering If I would be the next one for the slaughter. Eventually, I gathered some courage and resumed my people-watching.

One day, by mere accident, I somehow changed my form. I barely noticed the change, but my eye level was lower than usual. I was suddenly shorter than I was initially. While wandering around the forest and eventually finding a river near where I live now, I was shocked to see a human face staring back at me. As embarrassing as it was, I thought a human was trapped under the water, unable to fathom that I could ever look like that.

However, after my initial panic to rescue said human, I realized that it was actually me that I was staring at. I remember a wave of relief washing over me to finally not see the monstrous face I had grown used to seeing in my reflection. Since that day, I never changed back. I traveled down to the town below that day with my new form. I had apparently taken the form of a five-year-old child, so the adults who had first noticed me freaked out when they saw me. I was caked with dirt, my hair was matted, and I was naked. Clothes, sadly, did not come with the transformation, though at the time, I didn't know the importance of clothes.

Before I knew it, one of the townspeople rushed me to their home and threw me into a warm bath. Scrubbing away all the dirt and grime before almost tearing my hair as they brushed the knots out. They had bombarded me with many questions, all worried for my well-being. It was overwhelming. Now that I think back on it, they probably thought I was abused and had been abandoned in the forest to die. After all, no 'child' looks like that if they came from a loving family.

However, at the time, I couldn't answer them even if I had wanted to. I didn't know how to speak or dress myself. I remember the look on an elderly woman's face when she noticed how confused I looked when she had given me a tiny dress that one of the other townsfolk had run out and bought for me. Her look of pure sadness at the realization that I didn't even know how to put clothes on will forever be ingrained in my memory. The townsfolk there at the time had spent a good few hours trying to get clothes onto me.

I had apparently struggled and squirmed so much that they had to hold me down just to put the dress on. When they were done, I finally looked like an ordinary little girl. After everything slowly settled down, the townsfolk decided what to do with me. Some tried to find my parents, though that was arduous since I didn't have any. They tried to take me in at some point, but I ran back into the forest. After all, that day was the first time I interacted with humans, and it was too much too soon.

The next day, after calming down, I returned to the town. The townsfolk had been worried and kept watch at the forest's edge. Only a few wanted to search for me in the forest because it was considered haunted. I wasn't surprised because of the number of Cursed Spirits born in it. That was when I met my Papa, a young man who had heard of what had happened and was the first person on the scene when I was spotted the next day.

He had asked me if I wanted to live with him, but the thought of him or anyone finding out about what I was, or another Jujutsu Sorcerer coming by, had ended in me, no matter how tempting the offer had been, outright refusing him. Even if it wasn't a dangerous offer, the forest had become my home, and I couldn't bear to leave it after all this time. After some discussion, they eventually decided I would join Elementary school. Before I could join, however, they had to set up a place for me to stay. So, some builders from the village ended up renovating an old abandoned cabin in the woods.

For the first year, one of the school teachers would walk up to the cabin and walk me all the way down to the elementary school. I would have dinner with the young man, who would walk me back to the cabin. The other kids in my grade had thought I was weird since I didn't talk, and eventually, a rumor circulated that I was an orphan. I didn't make any friends because of it. Over that first year, my form slowly changed, aging as if I were a human; after that year, I finally learned how to talk and, eventually, how to read and write. However, I had a terrible stutter whenever I did talk, as my vocal cords were not used to it.

About a month after I could talk a sentence, the young man brought something up during dinner one night. "So, what's your name, little one?" I looked up from my food to look up at him curiously. "M-m-my n-name?" I barely managed out. Ms and Ns at the start of words were the hardest to pronounce for me. "Yes, your name. A good little girl like you must have a wonderful name." I lowered my head to look back at the food, my hand tightening around the fork. "I don't have a n-name." Not long after I had said that the young man dropped his glass, causing it to shatter on the floor below; the noise made me flinch with how loud it was. "They didn't even give you a name?"

I knew he meant to whisper it, but his emotions got the better of him. It confused me; why was he so angry? Had I done something wrong? "I-I'm sorry." His head snapped back at me, and he quickly threw his hands up. "No, no! It isn't your fault. It will never be your fault. It's just.." He trailed off. "I'll tell you when you're older; let me clean this up, okay? You continue eating your food," I nodded softly as I ate. The young man was hunched over on the floor, cleaning up the shards of glass and the water that had spilled everywhere.

Once our plates had been emptied of food, I sat on one of the stools on the island in the kitchen while he washed the dishes. "So," He started. "Would you like me to give you a name?" My head perked up at that. A name? My own name? I couldn't help but shyly nod, giddy at the idea of receiving a name. He chuckled at my reaction and thoughtfully held his chin in his hands. "Hmm, I think I'll call you (Y/n), and for your last name, why not mine? From now on, you'll be (Y/N) Chibana." He grinned at me, "Awe- now that I think about it, I never told you my name earlier; sorry about that, kiddo, my name is Hisato Chibana. In my family, Chibana means 'A Thousand Blossoms.' You'll grow into that quite nicely. My little Hana."

That was the day my father officially adopted me. And he had wasted no time taking up his new role as my father. He was a patient man and never once got angry at me for my struggles to speak or if I was having trouble with my school work since I was starting school later than the other kids. Father had picked up everything and moved into the cabin in the woods with me not even two weeks after I started school. His neighbors had tried to stop him, warning him of the forest's dangers, but he simply smiled and said. "If I wasn't there for my daughter, then what kind of father would I be?" It was nice knowing he was there for me. It took me forever to properly warm up and see him as my Papa. I remember a day when he gave the principal an earful after he found out how some of the kids were making fun of the fact I was adopted since they couldn't exactly make fun of the fact I was an orphan anymore.

When we got home that day, he sighed deeply and ruffled my hair as he told me to help him prepare the ingredients for dinner. "Don't listen to them, my little hana. You just have a different circumstance than them, but that doesn't make them better than you. You are an amazing young girl. I couldn't have wished for a better daughter," Is what he had told me, with a warm smile on his face. It had made him look so bright. I had clung to his leg for the rest of the night.

When I turned eleven, my happy life with my father ended. It was the middle of class, and I sat alone at one of the tables. The classroom was situated where there were fewer students than tables, and since the students were allowed to sit wherever they liked, I was the only one at my table. The teacher at the front of the room was teaching us multiplication when the phone rang. She told us to all settle down as he headed to the back of the class to answer the phone. "Yes, hello? Yes. She's here..what?" I saw the teacher go pale as her eyes landed on me, and I immediately knew something was up. "Ok..yes, I'll tell her. Alright, goodbye."

The teacher hung up the phone."Chibana-San, please come with me." Everyone's eyes were on me as I slowly got out of my chair and followed our teacher out of the classroom. We didn't walk far, just to a different classroom that wasn't used at the moment; she sat me down at one of the tables. "Alright, Chibana-san, I must tell you some important news. It has to do with your father, Mister Chibana." I slowly nodded, my hands slightly shaking under the table as I feared the worst. "You see..while your dad was at work today, a little accident happened." The teacher looked at me with so much pity that I almost couldn't stand to look at her. "Is he ok?" I could barely hear my voice; I had spoken so softly. She shook her head, hanging low as she tried not to cry. After all, it wasn't every day you had to deliver news like this to an eleven-year-old. "Y-Your father got caught up in it, and he- he lost his life." In the end, she couldn't hold back the tears. And just like that, my world came crashing down around me.

Six years ago, my father died due to a workplace accident. They were working on construction, and some beams weren't tied correctly, so when the ropes gave way, my Papa was crushed under its weight when it fell. The information hit me like a ton of bricks at the time. The one person in my life who had helped me through each day, who cared about me, was gone forever. A week after his death, was when his funeral was held.

Papa was beloved in town. He was an upstanding citizen who loved to help people. Never failed to put a smile on everyone's face, so it wasn't a surprise that so many people had shown up. I can't remember a single person there that day besides my teacher, but I remember the heavy feeling in my gut each time they looked at me in pity. Whispering to one another how dreadful it was for me to lose my father so young, all while I was still in earshot. Others, the more superstitious, whispered how it was my fault, that I must have been a bad omen. My teacher led me away shortly after the comments started getting out of hand. Only when I got home did I finally cry, finally began to fully grieve his death. For the first time in years, I was alone again. I didn't leave his room for a good few days. Soaking his pillows with my tears, I eventually believed those comments were accurate. Everyone at school believed it, after all, which only worsened the bullying.

Back to the present, and out of my depressing thoughts, I set down the groceries I had bought in town by the door. A sigh escaped my lips as I dug around in my pockets for my house key before opening the door. I crouched down to pick up the groceries before entering the cabin. "Papa...I'm home," I called out into the empty house as I closed the door behind me and locked it. Moving into the kitchen, I set the groceries down on the counter. I heard tiny footsteps and smiled softly as I turned around."Yes, yes, I'm home, Rose."

A few feet away was a pure white angora cat with heterochromatic eyes. The cat's eyes were blue and yellow, which reminded me of jewels. As I often shortened it, Primrose, or Rose, appeared shortly after Papa died. It was about a month after the funeral, if I remember correctly. But I could remember the night Rose came into my life so clearly.

After another long day at school, I only wanted to cry in Papa's room. Middle School was already hard to get through with all the bullying; now that Papa was gone, it felt more like I was trapped in hell. I set my backpack by the sofa before returning to Papa's room. I collapsed onto the bed and let out a shaky breath. It wasn't long before the tears began to fall from my face.

Every time I cried over Papa, it felt like another part of me was dying. How could humans even handle emotions like this? Doesn't it just eat them from the inside out? My arms wrapped around his pillow in a vice. Holding it tighter and tighter with every wail that left my mouth. The pain in my heart was unbearable. The moon shone through the window onto my form, and at that moment, it felt like I was being set on fire. I didn't want the light on me. I didn't deserve it. Not after everything I've cau-

A drawn-out mewl from the window snapped me out of my thoughts. The sudden sound caught me off guard, and I sat up, forgetting my grief only for a moment. A pure white cat with a slightly fluffy mane was on the window sill. The cat's eyes shun like jewels against the moonlight, and my eyes widened at seeing its eyes being two different colors. Its left eye was a beautiful honey color, and its right eye was a light blue. All things considered, it was a beautiful cat.

Before I could speak, the cat jumped onto the bed, startling me further. It walked over, unafraid, and laid down in my lap. It looked up at me and stared. Despite my initial shock, a soft, somber smile graces my lips. "Are you all alone too?" I wiped my tears and gently petted the cat on the head; in response, the cat meowed back as if in reply. "what's your name?" I looked the cat over. "It looks like you don't have an owner..you must really be all alone.." I looked that cat over, "I think..I'll call you Primrose."

Primrose tilted her head slightly, looking at me with curiosity. I shook my head, 'I've done enough reminiscing for one day.' I crouched down and petted her. "Yes, I know, you're hungry. Don't worry; I got you your fancy tuna." A soft laugh left my lips as I rummaged through the plastic bags and got out a can of tuna. The only brand that Rose will eat is an expensive one, but I can't bring myself to not buy it for her. Rose helped me through a lot of the heartbreak of losing my Papa. Now, as a Fourth-year in high school, Primrose remains my one and only friend.

I opened a drawer and got out the can opener. I opened the can and set it on the counter for Primrose to enjoy. After feeding my feline companion, I got to work on putting away the groceries. "Did you behave while I was away at school today?" I said as I looked over my shoulder and put some food in the fridge. Primrose, in response, looked away from me. Being an expressive cat, I could tell she was offended. "Oh, come on, you know I'm only kidding."

I threw away the plastic bags along with the now-empty tuna can. "Come on, Rose..let's say hello to Papa." We walked down the hall to a room adjacent to mine, and I opened the door. Across the room was a small shrine. I sat on the pillow in front of it and looked at the picture of my Papa. He was just getting into his thirties when he died, which came with the light facial hair he had started to grow. He had shaggy hair and eyes that always reminded me of honey. The highlight of the old picture was his bright, warm smile. One that barely ever left his face. One that I was so used to seeing.

I lit the incense on the shrine and clasped my hands together. "Hey Papa, school was okay today. It wasn't great, but it wasn't bad either." My eyes closed as I thought about my Papa. "My grades are doing good. I've been studying really hard as of late." My eyelids fluttered open as my eyes made contact with the eyes in the picture. I missed hearing his voice, feeling his warmth whenever he hugged me, and laughing at his cheesy jokes.

"I...I've been thinking about the past a lot today.." I couldn't look at his face anymore, and I looked down. "I'm...so sorry that I never told you...I hope you can forgive me from where you are in heaven..or wherever you are." I couldn't stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks as my hands fell to my sides, forming into fists as I dug my nails into my palms. "Would you still consider me your daughter if you knew what I am? Would you still call me your little Hana, knowing what my kind does to humans?"

I felt like I couldn't breathe as I fell to my hands and knees and watched the tears fell onto the hardwood floor. "No matter how much I think about it, the guilt keeps eating away at my soul. Was I really the cause of your death? Did I doom you?" I jolted upward with a slight yelp as Primrose sunk her teeth into my arms."Ow! Rose, why did you-" I stopped as I noticed the distress in Primrose's eyes. I took deep breaths before letting out a long sigh as a half-hearted smile graced my lips."Thank you, Rose. I had another episode, didn't I?"

Primrose nuzzled her head against my arm and walked toward the door. My smile faded into something softer as I got up, glancing at my father's portrait. "I'll see you again tomorrow, Papa." I left the room with Primrose and closed the door behind me. "What would I do without you? You might as well be my emotional support animal at this rate." I watched Primrose walk toward my room, and I couldn't help but chuckle. "Right, you need your beauty sleep." I stretched my back before rubbing where Rose had bit my arm. "She bit me hard. Even left a mark, fun."

I decided that I was just going to skip dinner tonight and go back outside for a walk in the forest. So I headed for the door, unlocked it, and stepped outside. It was almost nighttime, and the sun was just about to set. My head tilted toward the sky to absorb the colors cast over it. 'It should be that time of day, right?' With that thought, I headed back down the path. Just up ahead was my destination, a small bridge that crossed over a river.

From what my Papa told me, this bridge was constructed years ago, and when the builders were grabbing stones to make up the bridge, they somehow found a big piece of emerald caked in dirt. Over the years, the dirt fell away because of rain, and the emerald was eventually revealed. Sadly, the townsfolk couldn't get it out because of where it was located on the bridge since the wall would have to be broken. Around this time of day, because of the angle it had been placed in the bridge, only during this time, when the sun started to set, did the sun's light shine through the emerald perfectly and make a beautiful design on the river's surface. Some myth was also connected to the bridge, but I can't remember it.

I stopped beside the emerald in the bridge and looked over the railing. On most days, it cast a nice green glow on the ripples of the water. Yet, today, it seemed to not be the case as the water almost had a red look. I rubbed my eyes several times to ensure I wasn't seeing things. 'That's never happened before. Is there dirt on it?' I peeked on the other side of the emerald gemstone and saw nothing. "Maybe it's a little early?" I whispered to myself softly before I took a deep breath. 'Something about this situation doesn't sit right with me.'

I shook my head and turned around. The last thing I wanted was to come face to face with another cursed spirit because I was stressing over a weird bridge. I headed back inside, locked the door, and headed down the hall and into my room. Primrose was lying on my bed, sleeping soundly. I crawled into bed, trying not to disturb her. "Good night, Rose." I closed my eyes and tried my best to go to sleep.

Underneath the river's waters lay a plaque, long forgotten. Words carved into it told a small tale of the bridge. "Beware thy soul who views the river red, For soon a terrible fate lies ahead. When visiting the gem of the river so fair, Pray your fate isn't worse than death, beware!"

#yandere #yandere male #yandere jujutsu kaisen #x reader #yandere x reader #prologue #yandere reverse harem #yandere various

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cthulhu-with-a-fez · 1 year

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Hey how do u know if u wanna be a boy in a cis way or a trans way? I’m a girl btw

alright so i'm gonna preface this by saying that i'm... probably not the best authority on What Makes A Man(TM), considering that i'm not one, and that no answer i give is going to catch every relevant topical nuance? but i know i've talked a bit in the tags about my personal blend of cis+ gender-woogity, so i'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that's what you're asking about!

it got pretty long, so i put it under the cut :D

there's two ways i tend to approach my assessment of my gender, which for purposes of this ask let's call "diagnostic" and "diegetic".

the diagnostic approach is more or less what it sounds like - comparing and contrasting what i understand gender to be, denotatively and connotatively and culturally, with what my sense of my own gender is, and trying to figure out what feels closest to me and why. this has been influenced pretty heavily by two posts i've seen floating around over the years but can't for the life of me find right now.

one of them is just a quote to the effect of "consistently wishing you were a different gender is a pretty strong indicator of being that gender." and it makes sense, right? human intuition, gut feeling like that, is made of a million little deductions about the world relative to yourself that you don't consciously process all of, but which make themselves known however they can. if you're a girl but you keep finding yourself thinking "man, i wish i was a boy," that might be your brain doing behind-the-scenes pattern recognition about being a boy and trying to flag your attention towards it.

which isn't to say that it's an infallible tell, gut feelings are not always correct, let alone accurate! even when they are, you're getting, like. fortune cookie amounts of information about things that might require thesis paper amounts. but that's where you have to take a level in metacognition and think about why you think about or respond to something the way you do. or, to quote discworld,

“First Thoughts are the everyday thoughts. Everyone has those. Second Thoughts are the thoughts you think about the way you think. People who enjoy thinking have those. Third Thoughts are thoughts that watch the world and think all by themselves. They’re rare, and often troublesome. Listening to them is part of witchcraft.”

― Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky

figuring out the why of your own responses is good for tons of non-gender-related reasons, but it's especially helpful with those kind of vague but persistent I Feel A Way About This thoughts. if you're a girl and you keep thinking "man, i wish i were a boy", there's a lot of reasons you might think that! for legit gender reasons, yeah, but it might also be "i wish i were a boy because their clothes look better" or "i wish i were a boy because then i wouldn't get cat-called" or "because they get paid more" or "because no one assumes they can't pick up heavy things" or more. some of them are aesthetic things, some of them are cultural misogyny things, all of them are relevant and valid! but it also makes it a little harder to tell how heavily gender-weighted they are in general - you can be mad about the pay gap and and explore a more masculine silhouette while still robustly being a woman.

(though, pro tip about the clothes? regardless of your genderfeel, men's section jeans are where it's at. huge pockets. not made of tissue paper. sized with actual waist/inseam measurements instead of a random number revealed to a women's fashion exec in a vision. cannot recommend them strongly enough. have pocket. be free.)

that brings us to the second post that i regrettably can't find, and another excellent diagnostic tool!

it was a comment written by a trans man in a longer thread about gender identity, talking about something that helped him distinguish between 'cultural misogyny sucks' thoughts and 'i am not a woman' thoughts. he definitely explained it more eloquently, but his rule of thumb was "would this upset me if it happened to me, but not to a female friend?"

for example, if someone holds the door for a girl and calls her "ma'am," all courteous manners, that would probably not be an issue for most women! but if you aren't a woman, or you're starting to not feel like one, it might not feel so comfortable an interaction.

i've learned to use that as a baseline for a problem management system for "i wish i was..." thoughts like those - it really does help to distinguish between external circumstance thoughts wearing a gender envy hat vs actual gender envy thoughts hiding under an external-circumstance hat, especially when there's multiple confounding factors involved. for example, let's go back to the clothes thing for a second!

i've always had a bit of a contentious relationship with clothes shopping, which in hindsight was a combination of personal aesthetic, sensory issues, body image issues, and gender issues. trying to develop my aesthetic was hard, especially back when "department store girls' section" was my only real choice and the best i ever hoped for was a grudging least-worst option just to get it over with. this has since changed! i have experienced presentation euphoria! i have a style now that feels comfortable and makes me happy! but it was a steep climb to get there until i learned how to identify what made the least-worst option least worst and move closer to it.

sometimes it's easy, like "this fabric is soft but the color is hideous" so find a different color, or "it's too tight across the chest because it was designed for someone skinny" so try a different size, or "this is just blatantly not-my-aesthetic" so move on. but sometimes it's "i'm getting steadily more upset trying to find a dress that i don't hate on my body despite them looking and feeling just fine on the hanger," and that one's a little tougher.

because on one hand, part of it really was the body image issues. i don't need to shop plus-size, but there's still something really disheartening about basically every retail outlet's 'normal' size range heavily implying that i'm only barely thin enough to be worth catering to, you know? fatphobia in the fashion industry is a whole different other conversation that we're not having right now, but it heavily contributed to some non-gender-related body dysphoria that's played first-chair tuba in my brain for a long time.

but on the other hand, looking at myself in a mirror wearing a dress and really hating it wasn't entirely about my body in a dress - it was also about my body in a dress. it didn't really click until a good friend of mine invited me to be in their wedding party, and said "we're not doing bridesmaid's dresses, just bridal party colors, wear whatever you feel most comfortable in as long as it matches!" and i spent ten seconds mentally gearing up for another godawful harrowing misery gauntlet of dress shopping -

and then stopped. because.

if i can wear something comfortable.

and a dress isn't.

...... what if i wore a suit?

and lo, i went to men's wearhouse and got slacks and a vest and a buttondown and a tie and it was amazing. i feel so fucking good in that outfit, i feel handsome and classy and confident in a way i literally never once in my life have felt while wearing a dress.

most of the time, people want things or don't-want things for a whole blend of reasons, and if there's one reason yelling loudest (hello, body-dysphoria tuba) it's often hard to tell what the rest of the factors are. but it's really, genuinely worth it to try and figure it out, even if you have to dig through a big old lump of stress and misery to get there - understanding yourself better and accepting what you find will only ever lead to quality-of-life improvements. sometimes it's as simple as refining your aesthetic some more, realizing "i can do better than grudging least-worst options" and navigating towards a wardrobe that you actually like!

but sometimes, it's realizing that your clothes don't make you feel good in the first place because they're expecting a kind of gender performance out of you that you can't comfortably give.

and that's where the "diegetic" part of my self-analysis kicks in.

the definition of "diegetic" is (of sound in a movie, television program, etc.) occurring within the context of the story and able to be heard by the characters. the score of a movie is non-diegetic, whereas the song playing on the radio during a driving scene is. how does this relate to my gender, you might ask?

well... perception.

i can be on as many levels of Advanced Gendermancy as i want, but that's all non-diegetic. myself as i am, occurring within the context of existing in public and able to be seen by the other people out there living life? i'm gonna get perceived as a gender, and i'm gonna get perceived as "girl," with maybe an addition of "... queer?" when i feel like making a statement with flannels. and that's okay with me. it's not a hardship to have people assume i'm a girl, because yeah, i'm a girl! ish! mostly! girl-lite, girl-as-default, noncommittal-wiggly-hand-gesture rounding-down-to-the-closest-answer girl.

but the thing is, i'm a carpenter. blue-collar union carpenter. women comprise... i think 2% of the construction workforce in my area. which means that just by existing on-site, i'm making all the guys remember that the gender binary exists because there's now a "them" for them to be an "us" about. i get called "miss kelly" like that's my whole name by the guys from my company who know me, and i get called "young lady" by guys from other companies who don't, and it's all very respectful and courteous, but... i don't want it. what i want is access to the "we're literally all men here so it doesn't even matter that we're men" gender space they have without me, which i can't have, because i am diegetically female in a male-dominated field. and if gender is a fluid, i'm a water balloon deforming under pressure, because the more frequently i get Gendered on-site - even when everyone's been nothing but polite about it, and certainly not intending any insult! - the more stressed-out i get in the same direction as wearing dresses made me feel. it's too much, too constrictive of an expectation that i do not meet, and i don't like it, and you know what helps?

chasing masculine presentation a little harder to make up for it.

being seen and Gendered masculinely, even if it's a little more than i would normally want, feels good because it's balancing the pH of my gender fluid again, and getting to have that is entirely dependent on someone else perceiving you and acting on that perception.

so that's part of it as well, beyond any interior exploration you can do. it isn't just about what you feel like, which is certainly important - it's also about the way people treat you relative to what you feel like. and it's hard, it's really really hard, to figure out what's right for you in that balance, especially if you don't know what's wrong in the first place.

it's like being blindfolded on a beach and told to find wheat grains scattered in the sand by touch alone. you know there's something good out there but not where it is or how to find it, only that you don't have it, and if you find wheat at all it's mixed in with so much sand you can hardly taste it anyway. if you're lucky, you bump into someone who's gone through it already who can take the blindfold off and show you how to sift for wheat instead of just eating a handful of sand and hoping, and that makes it easier, but for every one person like that there's a hundred more who've never had to try to pick wheat out of sand and can't tell the difference anyhow who think you're just not trying hard enough to live off of the """wheat""" you've been given.

i can't really tell you what it feels like to want to be a boy, because i'm not a boy and i don't really want to be? but i can tell you how i worked out the gender that i've got right now, and i hope it helps you anyway.

#answered asks by cwaf #anon asks by cwaf #advanced gendermancy #i'm obviously not trying to Speak For The Trans Community(TM) here i'm just one person trying my best to articulate some stuff #but these are the things that have impacted my gender exploration the hardest #so i hope they're useful tools for you too!#i can't take credit for the sand vs wheat analogy because my datemate came up with it but they said i could use it here #if you do some thinking and discover that you *do* want to be a boy there's a ton of trans resources out there!!#there's a whole community who'd be happy to help guide you if you reach out to them for advice #but this is what i've got for you right now

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liquid--sunshine · 7 months

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起死回生 | Revived from the Dead, Recovered from Hopelessness

Rated T, Paring STSG, Fluff, Cooking, Shenanigans, and Care ensue

Summary: Satoru and Suguru try their best to sort out their broken pieces. They're incredibly, fallibly, human. (OR: 11+k words of Geto realizing he's thirsty, Gojo realizing he's not immune to feelings, and both of them being far too young to parent ten year olds.)

The door silently slides open under Suguru’s hand, he’s thankful for the ways that skills honed for fighting have been able to be repurposed. At this point he could probably start a curse users self help series, which actually… He puts a pin in that idea. If there’s a potential for generating revenue or support, there’s no idea too outlandish to consider.

Ice spills down Suguru’s spine at the wave of cursed energy that greets his senses. Gojō Satoru is sprawled shoeless (How courteous) across his bed playing his old copy of pokemon gold. Satoru, who Suguru hasn't seen in, oh, two years, at this point?

He greets Suguru with a wave and without looking away from the little screen.

"Man, I can't believe you had this this whole time and never let me see it at school."

Suguru leans against the doorway, crossing his arms. Body calm, blood rushing.

"Man, I can’t believe you broke into my home and have been waiting this whole time to...?" Suguru gestures vaguely around the open air and sighs. "What are you doing here Satoru? How did you even find this place?"

Satoru taps on his nose and Suguru knows what he's going to say before he says it.

"Super sniffer." Satoru’s answer comes at the same time as Suguru's very loud and very put-out groan. He should have seen that coming. A little disappointed twinge in the back of Suguru’s mind, that he pointedly ignores, notes how long it really must have been if he didn’t think Satoru would take advantage of an opening like that.

It had been their joke since the summer before second year when they marathoned a bunch of American cartoons in English to see how much they could understand. For some reason that had been one of the phrases that'd stuck.

Suguru takes a moment, if he’s going to be forced into this situation, then he may as well bask in the uncanniness of it. Gojō Satoru, strongest living jujutsu-shi, former best friend, and pop culture enthusiast, is sitting on his bed playing a game they would have poured hours into together, just a few years earlier.

But, the past is the past and a potential threat is still a threat.

"Seriously, what are you doing here?" Suguru says, cold as the fear that gripped him when he first saw Satoru. No mask, no pretense. If Satoru knows where this is, who else from the school does? The girls like this spot, so he likes this spot. He'd rather not upend their lives again if he doesn't have to.

That gets Satoru's attention. He breaks his stare away from the little game and looks at Suguru through the thick fabric covering his eyes.

"Your phone stopped working." Satoru says. "No one knows I'm here." Because apparently he can still read Suguru as well as ever. Something in Suguru delights at that. He does his best to stuff it down because now is not the time.

"My girls dropped it in the pot when we were making Somen last week. How long did it take you to find us? Fuck," Suguru says the word like the wind’s getting knocked out of him. The implication of all of this practically does. “How did you get through my wards?”

"How hard is it to make noodles from scratch?" Which was neither the response Suguru was expecting nor looking for, but he'll go with it. Even Satoru's most tangential thoughts had a way of swinging back around, eventually.

"Depends on the noodle. Why?" Suguru doesn't pretend like he's not interested.

"Teach me to make noodles while I’m here?” Satoru pauses and Suguru notices the way his jaw works as he mulls over something. “I, uh, also stole some kids? Get this: Fushiguro Tōji's son is one of 'em." Satoru looks back towards the game, but doesn’t keep playing. "How fucked up is that." He says, it isn't a question.

Suguru's composure begins to crack.

Yes. That's incredibly fucked up. It hurts to even think about it.

But Satoru is asking him about making noodles so he can… make them with some kids? And Satoru’s here because his one line of communication was cut off… Something feels like it's turning inside out in Suguru's chest, an old familiar ache.

Because despite everything, he's apparently still horribly, egregiously in love with his ridiculous former best friend.

Satoru idly nudges at the d-pad under his thumb, the little jaunty chiptune music filling the empty spaces in their conversation.

"You know, I think about what'd be like if you hadn't left." Satoru says, uncharacteristically quiet. "You'd love this kid. Completely ridiculous. And you were always the one that was better at people, anyway. I don't think I'm doing too badly though."

Suguru watches Satoru pull down his blindfold and rub at his eyes. The only things physically separating them are a couple meters and half a bed. The distance feels insurmountable in the wake of everything else that separates them.

Suguru steps into the room. "Tell me about him?" And while these few words don't bridge the space between them, it's something.

Satoru smiles, sharp. "Sure, but then you're telling me how to make noodles. Get this, the little asshole's been getting into fights at school. You wanna know what he told me?"

Suguru doesn't think he's ever heard someone describe another as an "asshole" with the sheer amount of love and adoration that Satoru uses now. Suguru's last bit of will breaks and he's pulled bodily to the bed by his traitorous and not at all reliable heart. Satoru grins as Suguru comes over, eyes never leaving the gameboy. But in Suguru's experience, Gojō Satoru has never needed to look directly at him to know where he is.

"What'd he tell you?" Suguru says, resisting sitting on the bed.

If Satoru's plaintive pout is anything to go by, that isn't where he'd thought Suguru would stop. Satoru looks up and pats the space next to him with an energy he hadn't had seconds earlier. Enthusiasm pours from him.

Suguru's resistance falters in record time.

Satoru throws back his head with a laugh and Suguru delights at how limitless seems to automatically register his headboard as a threat. Satoru would have surely brained himself otherwise.

"He said 'They were making bad decisions and someone needed to teach them a lesson.'” Satoru parrots, uncharacteristically sullen. Suguru wonders how old the kid is. “But get this! Then he said 'And our teachers aren't teaching them so I had to.'"

Satoru wheezes out infectious laughter. Suguru is helpless to it.

"Like, I'm not surprised he's getting into fights—he got bad DNA—but the mora~lity" Satoru leans close and wiggles his fingers in Suguru's face.

"I–" Satoru tries to continue, but tumbles back, one arm holding his stomach, overtaken by laughter. "I mean it Suguru, you'd love this kid." Satoru finally gasps out, when he can form words again.

Suguru's used to being pulled into Satoru's orbit. He didn't realize it would still come this easily to him. It's been six years of "chance" encounters: Sporadic meaningless texts (because that was Satoru’s way of keeping them connected) and unwanted 'meet-cute's (because that was Suguru's).

He looks at the man next to him, at both their bare feet, Satoru's dangling off the edge of his bed. Satoru had been incredibly belligerent about always keeping his shoes on when they were younger. Suguru had told him directly, multiple times, that it was 1. Unsanitary and 2. Rude. So, Satoru had done it out of spite. They’d wrestle, Suguru would win because Satoru’s hand-to-hand was shit, and then they’d go about their time together.

He wonders when they left the realm of being 'boys'. Suguru thinks of how grown he'd felt at eighteen, he thinks of how much older he is now. He looks at Satoru and notices how the baby fat around his face has started to give way to the crest of his cheek bones and the sharp lines of his jaw. Suguru wonders what gradual changes he's overlooked in himself. He wonders if Satoru notices them, stark with the time they've been apart.

Satoru's laughter has died down. They both just rest there. No one willing to disturb the delicate balance of their own selective memory at the moment. In the quiet, it's easy to forget how far they’ve walked down opposite roads. In Suguru's pristine room, they're just two men who have cared about one another since their first year in high school. Not that far off from so many other people they share the planet with, in that regard.

Satoru sighs, it cuts through the ambient creaks and groans of Suguru’s house, then he lolls his head over to look slightly above Suguru. Suguru huffs out a little laugh when he realizes what Satoru is doing.

"Does it still look like an oil slick?"

Satoru's gaze travels around Suguru's edges.

"Yep," Satoru says, popping his 'p'. "Forgot how pretty it is in person." The solemnity of his tone, at odds with the music floating from the little 90s relic sitting forgotten between them.

And… oh boy, Suguru is in over his head. He didn't realize they were heading towards vulnerability. Suguru, very. strongly., doesn't believe he's emotionally prepared for that. The realization feels like a cold fist has gripped at his guts.

So, he flicks Satoru on the side of the head.

"C'mon, I thought you wanted to learn how to make noodles?"

┉┉┉

Satoru is no stranger to stare-downs—he has an iron will, they’re inevitable sometimes—so he sets his shoulders and plans to win the three way stare war he's currently in with two ten year olds and his stupid unhinged best friend.

"When I asked you to teach me how to make noodles and you agreed–"

("You didn't ask, you demanded.")

"I thought that meant you were going to teach me how to make noodles."

Suguru smiles sheepishly (guiltlessly, the little liar) and shrugs at Satoru, placating.

"The girls like to help and this is their house as much as it's mine. If they want to be the ones to make noodles with you, they have every right to be."

This is our space, not yours; you don't get to demand here the way you do elsewhere. Satoru hears the unspoken dig. Well, Suguru's got him there. Satoru rolls his eyes behind his blindfold. He waves his white flag of defeat with a loud exaggerated groan and undignified hunch of his whole person.

"Fi~" Satoru drags it out for good measure, "~ine."

He catches the sideways glance Suguru gives him, sly and just on the edge of unkind. This fucker, Satoru thinks.

"And practice by way of teaching is good for communication skills. I mean, look at you now! You should really know the benefits best, right Sato– Ow!"

But Satoru's good at this game too, and he's not one to be one-upped. So, before Suguru has the chance to finish his ~little jab~, Satoru grabs a strand of his hair and yanks. Hard. (Hard enough to pull some of it out, oops.) Then he short distance teleports himself to hover up by the eaves of Suguru's kitchen.

Satoru grins down at the very familiar expression gracing Suguru's face. It's harder now than it used to be, Satoru notes as he takes stock of the way Suguru's face has less squish and more tension than when they were teenagers.

Satoru flips through all the ways he can imagine Suguru responding. All part of the game. Their game.

What he doesn't expect, is to be scolded by one of the ten year olds he'd fully forgotten the existence of.

"What the fuck is your problem?"

Satoru's harsh startled laugh and Suguru's scolding "Nanako!" come at the same time.

Satoru teleports directly in front of the little girl and stares her down. He's curious if she'll yield (there's potential there, if she doesn't). He's curious if she knows who he is yet. What his existence signifies on a grander level for their little family.

She doesn't yield. Not only that, but the quiet one finally pipes up. "You shouldn't be rude in someone else's house." Which, fine, that's very Suguru of her to say. "If you are, they have the right to get rid of you however they see fit. I think one of Getō-sama's curses should eat you." Well now, that's a little less Suguru of her. Or well, actually no, that's still probably pretty Suguru of her, all things considered.

But if they think one of Suguru's curses could do anything to him, then they don't know who he is yet. Good. That'll make making noodles easier.

But first.

"Getō-sama? Really?" Satoru grins so hard his cheeks hurt. He's never going to let Suguru live that down.

Suguru looks like he regrets every decision he's ever made in his life and Satoru, for one, doesn't mind that. There are certainly some decisions he should have gone without making.

"Can we please just make noodles?" Suguru pleads, looking exhausted.

"Yep!" Satoru twitters and slings his arm around Suguru's shoulders. He doesn't know how long this little charade of normalcy is going to last between them, but so long as Suguru keeps giving him inches, Satoru plans to keep taking miles.

"But first, I'm Gojō Satoru, your sort-of-dad's best friend." Satoru wears his irreverence like armor and waits for Suguru's response. He doesn't wait long. Satoru feels the tension that takes up residence in the broad lines of Suguru's shoulders. Satoru also clocks the way Suguru's pulse starts to race. Interesting, Satoru thinks. He'll have to wait and piece together what that actually means, but there's no denial in the face of Satoru’s words, so that's something.

Satoru takes stock of the girls next. They don't seem convinced.

"You, the yelled at one," Satoru squats down to their level and points, "you're Nanako. That makes you," he exaggeratedly swings his gaze and accusational finger towards the other girl, "Mimiko."

Satoru feels himself slipping into teacher mode; play everything up, make the kids feel at ease with his goofiness. "So, I don't know how to cook for shit." Suguru groans and okay, the way Satoru talks to teenagers maybe isn't the way he should talk to ten year olds, but Nanako giggles, so whatever. It's working. "And according to Getō-sama~," Satoru can't help but wiggle as he says it, he might as well act as stupid as as he finds that title, "you two are some special class chefs." Satoru laces every word with as much gusto as he can muster, and he can muster a lot of gusto.

The girls look at one another.

C'moooon, Satoru thinks. Maybe if he just wills it hard enough, he can win over these two little girls. (And maybe if he can win over these two little girls, he can win back some little part of Suguru. All he needs is an in. Let me help you, he thinks.)

After the most excruciating few seconds of Satoru’s life, Nanako looks at him, a massive grin spreading over her face. Satoru feels as light as when he's flying, a big dopey grin spreading over his own face.

"Getō-sama says it's important to help other jujutsu-shi in need, so we can help you. Also, you're kinda weird but pretty funny, so you'll probably be fun to cook with." Mimiko nods with the whole top half of her body in a silent but forceful agreement with her sister.

Satoru positively cackles. He stands, rounding on Suguru and shakes him by his shoulders before flicking himself into existence over where the twins had started heading towards the kitchen shelves.

"Lead the way ladies!" Satoru yells in a voice far too loud for indoors. Nanako grabs him by the wrist and starts rattling off the things she needs him to grab from the high shelves she and Mimiko can't reach.

┉┉┉

This can't be happening, Suguru thinks, entirely hopeless and woefully under prepared. Getō Suguru has become, for all intents and purposes, someone very used to being in control of every aspect of his life. He is an incredibly effective money laundering cult leader. He's magnanimous in the realm of curse users and unparalleled in his ability to garner support, bordering on devotion. Even Satoru breaking into his home to play fucking pokemon gold in his bed didn't feel outside of something somewhat controllable.

This though. This is very much outside of something he can control.

Satoru is good with kids. Satoru is good with his kids. Suguru stands somewhat stunned as he watches Mimiko muster up enough courage to throw a handful of flour at Satoru. It scatters around him and drifts to the ground. The girls titter and howl with excitement, cascading questions at him about how that keeps happening. He keeps up with them beat for beat. Suguru vaguely hears Satoru encourage them to keep throwing whatever they want at him, and that's something Suguru should really nip in the bud, but he's too busy not functioning.

Suguru is going to die. This is it. Not at the hands of a curse, no. Getō Suguru is going to die right in his own kitchen from cardiac arrest at the ripe old age of twenty-four. Actually, no, this is exactly how he thought he would die: At the hands of Gojō Satoru.

He just didn't think it would be at the hands of a bare armed, sweat pant thieving Gojō Satoru covered in flour in Suguru's kitchen.

And then there's that.

When had Satoru gotten arms and shoulders like that? Suguru feels like he's hemorrhaging. Satoru had always been a bean pole, a human noodle. And! Suguru knows for fact that Satoru doesn't exercise. Suguru knows because he lifts—he'd started in school and had found the exertion clarifying—and he'd invited Satoru, more than once, in what Suguru had insisted to himself was not a thinly veiled attempt to see Satoru in fewer layers, but a genuine extension of an enjoyable activity to a friend. Suguru winces at the avalanche of his thoughts and wonders if he's ever going to not be embarrassed by the mortifying ordeal of having existed prior to this year.

But "Flour," had been the one word reason Suguru had been given as Satoru started stripping, right there in front of him and his girls and whatever God people fucking believed in. Suguru had felt more destabilized in that moment than he had in years, but at least Satoru'd had the decency to blink out of existence before taking his pants off.

The sudden silence had been deafening in the wake of Satoru's reign of youth-entertaining terror.

Suguru had caught his girls' astonished looks before Nanako, with possibly more wonder than he'd ever heard from her, said "How does he keep doing that?"

The soft exclamation had pulled Suguru back into his body, carried by warmth like a wave to the shore.

He'd walked to his girls, love spilling from him the way his curses' resentment usually did: Weaving through his fingers, curling through his veins. He'd cupped Mimiko's cheek and gently squished Nanako's, like he'd done when they were smaller.

"Why don't we clean some of this up?" Suguru had said as he released a small curse with a very large tongue onto the floor.

But Suguru's very short lived peace had ended when Satoru popped back into existence upside down above the three of them with a too loud "Missed me?" wearing one of Suguru's sleep masks and Suguru's longest pair of sweatpants.

Mimiko would have fully toppled over if Suguru hadn't caught her.

Suguru would have fully toppled over if Mimiko hadn't provided a much more immediate concern to focus on than Satoru wearing his pants.

So, as it stands, Suguru pulls together pots and cutlery in his kitchen, perishing as his best friend, kids, and kind-of-disgusting cleaning curse ruin his house and maybe also his last vestiges of sanity.

┉┉┉

Check out the rest on a03 ٩( ᐛ )و

#jjk #jjk fic #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satosugu #五夏 #goge #jujutsu kaisen #stsg #satoru gojo #suguru geto #fluff #fix-it

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sagau-my-beloved · 2 years

Text

Headcannons about Venti with God reader, part 2

Ok, nobody requested this, and I literally just posted the other one like a day ago, but I can't stop thinking about him so part 2

Warnings: general Sagau, yandere behavior, general obsession, vague mentions of death

• His favorite time of day is the morning specifically because he loves to watch you sleep (like a creep) and the sun is just streaming in through the window and he can't help it that you look so ethereal

• Oh yeah, also he sneaks into your room to sleep next to you

• And is typically very comically kicked out by the first person to wake you in the morning for breakfast

• He would spend every waking second with you if he could though

• So he's typically sitting outside your door after getting kicked out (I'm absolutely going to write a drabble on this later)

• Really really likes it if you play with or braid his hair for him

• If your hair's long enough to be braided, he'll do the same for you, and even if it isn't long enough he'll still probably try

• "Come on now my love, pleeease. I promise I'll be careful, I need to make it up to you for doing mine!" He begs sweetly as he exaggerates his movements to allow the freshly done braids to move back and forth freely in the hopes that they catch your eye

• It's just an excuse for him to touch and play with your hair

• Even still, he's surprisingly, or I guess unsurprisingly good at it

• It is not an uncommon occurrence for you to be in the middle of a meeting, with like important people, and for him to just walk in uninvited and sit in your lap

• Most people have pretty much just accepted this

• He does like to drag you to a different bars, and restaurants too occasionally, but there aren't really a whole lot of good ones in Mondstadt

• But any time you are in the same general vicinity for a meal he will absolutely try to feed you

• It's more of an intimacy thing, and when you deny him he'll definitely pout about it

• Because of how he keeps a bit more of a distance from the everyday lives of his people, there are certain things he's not entirely caught up to date on

• Mainly just what's popular and general slang

• He is the weakest Archon God specifically because of his freedom policy, and it never really bothered him before, but with all the Archons fighting for your attention, sometimes it's difficult not to become a bit self conscious about that

• That's part of the reason why he's so adamant on being a part of almost every activity in your life, he feels that if he doesn't fight for it then you wouldn't actually seek him out yourself, preferring to spend your time with a more powerful and respected God

• There's a chance that he could become a little less overbearing if you were to actually prove to him that wasn't the case

• But after years and years of being ridiculed by the other Gods, it's going to be difficult for him to really truly accept that

• He's also really a sucker for praise or anything of the like

• A lot of the time he brushes that stuff off in more of a joking manner, but, when coming from you, it's a lot more personal

• The opinions of others never really mattered to him, positive or negative, nothing of what anyone said was going to stop him from doing what he thought was best, but you're a special case

• He always feels like he just so full of love and adoration for you that it's just impossible to express it all

• And that pretty much doubles any time you give him any attention

• He does act a bit aloof sometimes though

• Not intentionally of course, but he's more used to being alone than he is with other people, so he occasionally defaults back into that mindset

• It's like one extreme or the other

• Either you can not pry him off of you for days at a time or you haven't seen him in 48 hours and are getting kind of concerned

• Still, he wants nothing more than for you to only think of him like he only thinks of you

• Humans die, everything dies except you, and of course even Archons can die, but it makes way more sense for you to be close to somebody that has a longer lifespan than less than a century in most humans cases

• He knows what it feels like to have to deal with friends dying, he doesn't want that for you

• So his clinginess is partly for him and partly for you

• Or at least that's how he spins it to justify it to himself

• He wants to be someone that you can rely on, someone that you feel stability in, because he's going to be around a lot longer than your other friends

• On a lighter note, he'll almost constantly be making jokes about age difference

• It could go either way depending on his mood

• Either you're an infinitely old being and he's just a poor young multi thousand year old being that you're taking advantage of (as if you're the one that stalks him-)

• Or your current reincarnation is just so young compared to him and all his wisdom and you really should be considering him your senior you know

• Whatever he chooses leads to you taking the opposite stance

• Circling back around the topic of how much he can't stand to be away from you real quick

• One time you decided to take a little vacation without telling anybody

• Because 50 of your closest acolytes fussing over you doesn't exactly sound like the best time

• It took him less than five minutes to notice you left, and less than an hour to find you

• He was incredibly insulted that you didn't at least invite him, you two were close enough to spend a vacation alone together right? Right???

• He pouted for quite a bit, worrying rather profusely that you didn't like him as much as he previously thought you did

• If you just really really really wanted some alone time, he would very unwillingly give it to you, while walking away in an incredibly dejected manner

• Looking back occasionally, just to see if you might have changed your mind as he shuffles away

• You created this monster by being so goddamn nice, so this is your fault really

• When it comes to gift giving, he would strive to find things that he thinks would remind you of him

• Beautiful fresh apples, freshly picked and incredibly fragrant cecilias, anything that was his specific shade of green

• And a lot of the time he doesn't even give them directly to you, but just puts them in your room somewhere

• He did learn pretty quickly to put the organic things in a place that you could easily find them to avoid any sort of mishaps

• He also really loves writing short notes with those stupid doodles on the sides

• Typically depicting either him or you

• If you choose to write back, then he will be incredibly ecstatic

• That ecstaticism will multiply if he sees that you have also drawn a little doodle

• He'll probably get a very doppy grin on his face and hold the note to his chest as he tries to contain the absolute unbridled joy that he can't seem to hide

• This, in turn, increases his vigor to write you notes, despite the fact that you see each other like every ten minutes

• But he keeps everything you've given him, gift or note or otherwise

• So if he has to force himself to not interact with you for an extra ten minutes in order to get a keepsake, he will restrain himself

• Anyways, it's 3am and I'm tired, and this was completely self indulged anyway, so I'm ending it here and good night to you all

#genshin impact #sagau #yandere venti #yandere genshin au #yandere genshin x reader #genshin venti #genshin x reader #headcannons

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writinandcrying · 1 year

Note

Hellou!Im the persone who asked about requests a while back(Mainly because I didnt wanna overwhelm you if theyre closed) and Im really glad they are.Anyway,could I request Donnie(TMNT),Tamaki(BNHA) and/or FatGum(BNHA)(Also,I hope I havent gone over the character limit) with a slightly chubby s/o?(Insecure or not,you chose!).You dont have to do this if you dont want to tho!Have a nice week❤

Hellou! Thank you so much for being so thoughtful, I’ll have to apologize tho, I no longer write for bnha, I had a huge burnout fand I do not feel comfortable writing about it anymore, I hope a veeeery detailed Donnie reaction to a chubby reader will make up for the absence of those characters! ♥️

Tmnt - Donnie x Chubby reader (Gender Neutral!)

I’ll have to start that all of the boys wouldn’t judge or reject you based on your appearance, being either chubby, slim, tall, short, there are a few attributes that I think each turtle would find it e seeing or interesting, but it’s more… humanly related(?) maybe one day I’ll make a post about it if you guys wanna hear my opinion on it hehe :)

Donnie(generalized) x Chubby Reader:

just like there are certain stuff about the turtles that they like and dislike about themselves, there are stuff about humans who think the same about themselves! and even though Donnie knows there are beauty standards that control many areas in humans society, he still doesn’t understand why people outcast those who are different

I think some of us (readers / shippers) get a bit :C when thinking about Donnie bc in almost every version, he had a crush on April (who is a babe in every. Version. Specially rise, I love rise-April so much, and that’s the only apriltello I’ll let it slide lmao) and that can give a “perception” that he wouldn’t even glance at some of us ( “us” = being a huge group, trans, guys, chubby girls, chubby guys, skinny girls and guys, everyone who doesn’t fit the normie mold I guess- I unfortunately think about that often. Which sucks cuz I gotta remind myself that isn’t true!!! At all!!)

I personally Headcanon Donnie being… I don’t know if interested would be the correct word, but more intrigued with how humans relate to each other, on their first missions, he knew they could… scare some of them off, “frightened by their own prejudice” as master splinter would say, but it’s far more different to hear about it than to actually live it, and it hurts to hear someone scream their heart out just by seeing you

While growing up, he started to notice not only in television, on and off midia, how people would mess around with others on the street just because of their appearance, he knew society worked though this beauty standards, but he didn’t understand it. It didn’t made sense! value someone based on what they look like? There are so many things, so many attributes to make someone interesting, and you gonna pick the most…. Boring? Plain? Vague? Shallow reason to create privilege over others? Really? (And thst enters on the topic of how almost all beauty standards are rooted in white privileged and racism but I’ll go on a tangent about it once I start it and I’ve already said a lot lols)

He could literally go on for hours about this topic (which he has. At least tried with each one of his brothers, but they never really responded well to so said topic “if humans have it bad, then what do we have left?” Raphael barked back once, an attempt to shut him up, which it worked, btw- he didn’t like to go through that direction when thinking about that topic, but yeah, what does he have left?)

He started searching about different aesthetics, ethnicities, he has folders on Pinterest dedicated different body types, cultures, he swears it’s for research reasons, which kinda is, but Donnie’s guilty pleasure is checking “different” people online, those who would deem strange and weird outside the internet, he liked seeing their content and specially their comment sections being filled with wonderful compliments, people relating to different styles and tastes, that gave him hope that there are someone out there with different views of how everyone should be “shaped”, and that maybe he will find someone who thinks he’s handsome and desirable (Donnie, just like Raph, is also insecure about his body, but he’s more… melancholic about it, if you confessed to Raphael, there would be a high change of him pushing you away, trying not to break his heart from actually believing you, while DonDon here, if you both started dating- on some days Donnie would need more reassurance that yes, his partner does think he’s handsome/hot/attractive. Otherwise he might internalize his insecurities and it will be HARD to get a confession “why he’s so upset out of the sudden” from this turtle)

With that being said!!!! (My god I do know how to ramble) without even realizing, Donnie open his “preferences”? Let’s say, Became more open minded than most, While seeking comfort for himself, and when he says he doesn’t have a type, he really doesn’t. There are so many aesthetics that could be attractive! punks, goths, cottagecore, y2k, dark academia, light academia, grunge, fairycore, alt, the list is endless! And don’t get him started on physical attributes cuz there are so many different combinations that some how, people manage to connect the most random ones and make it look great

Donnie wouldnt fall for someone specially bc of their appearance, or that would be the first reason he would fall head over heels, when you think about it, what happened to April it was that she was extremely passionate and dedicated to *insert which cause she was fighting for* and took Donnie seriously, that light up a lightbulb in his head that has never been on before, people showing how ardently they can be into something, how much they care and such, that’s attractive to him, and after that, everything that person does, or is, suddenly becomes beautiful and amazing for Donnie

Withthatbeingsaidpart2- if Donnie did fall for someone more on the chubbier side, their “plumpy-ness” would def be something to call his attention out after he developed feelings, he longed for your hugs, specially after he found out how soft and warm they were, he actually started having more naps after you caught his heart, imaging how it would be to cuddle someone as soft as you while hugging his pillow late at night on his bed (which eventually he would doze off from day dreaming so much)

Talking about day dreaming, Donnie can totally lose himself in his mind, just like with his projects, he can imerse himself in a fantasy about you two easily, which makes him totally freeze when you show up and he actually have to say or do something he has been constantly dreaming about

So please confess first, cuz when I say he can lose himself in his daydreams, that can last for months until he actually gathers courage to do something about it

While in a relationship, Donnie is totally a hopeless romantic, but not the typical “roses and candlelight’s dinner” kind, as your boyfriend, he wants to help you out no matter what, he will make aaaaas many inventions as he can that might increase the quality of your life, becomes easier to do… whatever, literally. And he always longs for your adorable reactions to his gifts

He adores your chubby cheeks, he will! Get lost! in your face! Your eyes! Eveything! He will oh so slowly caress his knuckles softly across it, sliding to your neck, traveling through your arms, he likes to squish your face a bit as well while cupping it when he goes for a kiss, he just thinks everything about you is adorable (and hot at the same time)

He really like the contraste his skin has with yours, it’s so foreign for him and he can’t help but to love how smooth your skin can be, (which leads his mind to ahem. Certain kind of thoughts. If you know what I mean)

Just like he needs reassurance about his appearance, he knows you probably had to deal with more than one unpleasant comment about your physique, so you don’t even have to ask, Donnie is so whipped with you, compliments about you just drip of his tongue, and it’s always so sweet, followed by a pair of soft eyes, always admiring you, plus, Donnie is a science / fact man, he would gather information about other cultures that value more curvy, chubby, bigger people, he would go as far as making a slide presentation how wonderful and more inclusive people are being (even if it doesn’t seams like it, and there’s still a long way to go) he would include real opinions online other than his on the matter that your body is indeed, a snack, (aaaaaand he is once again right, aaaaand just like everyone else you just have to live with it and accept it 😌 end of story)

He would definitely “put up to test” his theory of how amazing it is to cuddle someone who’s more on the chubbier side (and his theory is ✅ correct)

Cuddling becomes a weekly thing for you guys, that being you sitting on his lap, having naps, watching movies together, he loves to create or update his projects with you on his lap, holding you grounds him. Plus it’s easier to speak some kisses on your cheeks that way

He finds out some people on the heavier side stops themselves to live some experiences the hard way, he never wants to make you uncomfortable, ever. But it takes a while for him to understand why wouldn’t you like to, as an example, wear a bathing suit/ swimwear around other people, wearing lighter clothes when it’s absurdly hot during winter time, that you don’t like when he picks you up? things that don’t connect right away. he promises himself to never force you to do anything you don’t want to, but he slowly will try to support you to do whatever you have always wanted to but stopped yourself from doing so bc of your weight

He would take extra time while making out with you, he wants you to know how much he loves your body, every inch of it. Lowkey likes to drag his nails on your tights and mark you

Overall? Donnie is extremely thoughtful, independently of how his partner look like, if they were “part” of some sort of outcast from society, he would take his sweet time to show how important and special his partner is, he is extremely thankful to be able to experience love, something that not only him, but all of the boys, thought it was out of their reach for a really long time, so you bet he’s going to show how appreciative he is oof your love, of all of you 💜

I really tired to innovate a bit here, didn’t want to add the same stuff as other Headcanons that already exists (I mean, Its cute to read how we as writing blogs / authors “agree” on how the boys would react in certain situations, which it is a FactTM that Donnie is a sweetheart. but it’s also good to read new stuff, oooor you know, a new perspective of it, even if it is a “common” / “already done” scenario, you know? )

even if I mostly rambled about Donnie’s personality analysis than to actual stuff he would do or act around an chubby reader lmao, I truly hope you like this! I didn’t proof read this so I’m sorry if there are any grammar mistakes hehe

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #giulia writes #tmnt headcannons #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt doonie

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waywardsalt · 3 months

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Can you please tell more about your redeemed Bellum that hangs around with the main cast in post-canon? Or, like, your hum!Bellum ideas in general?

Ooooh, I have a lot I could say about Bellum. I'll go a bit off this ask and just talk about him in the context of post-ph and some other aus, since he's fun and because most of them share the common thread of him being in human form often. This will probably be messy, but I'll divide it into sections to force myself to stick to one topic at once to keep this from devolving into what might as well be a transcript of a discord dms infodump.

(there should be a keep reading just under here- there are a few thousand words under the cut- if it's lower than it should be then idk, even while drafting this i had issues with it moving further down than i put it)

Human Bellum Basics (mostly design stuff)

It's less of a human Bellum au sort of thing, and more like a design for what if Bellum had a human form that he could change into. Kind of like Oshus having his human form while actually being a whale, it's the idea that Bellum can switch between his human form and his demon form at will, and I have spent... way, way too long trying to figure out this design.

I can't quite remember why I decided to give Bellum a human form (could've been anything from doing it for the hell of it to for shipping purposes) and it took AGES to decide on his final design.

Describing it would take a few paragraphs, so there's art! Commission pieces by @roskii specifically, he's great, he did great, check him out. (i dont know how to make these smaller :)))))) enjoy)

Half of it is directly taken from his demon design, he keeps the tentacles (not always present, he manifests them at will and tend to have much less reach when he's human), his eye, his teeth, his hair color (kind of), and half of it is more... brought in by ideas related to Bellum in general, with some vague references to that demon design; specifically him being scarred all over is a mixture of the idea of him as a violent and almost warlike creature, while also vaguely referencing the markings on his demon body (in the earliest drawing I ever did of a human Bellum design, he did just straight-up have those markings. That picture no longer exists, I'm sure).

As a basic reference, I suppose, in the second image, the character to the right of Bellum (Damien Fletcher) is an oc of mine, and therefore a character I designed (totally worth mentioning tho that with both Damien and Bellum while I did technically design them and gave roskii my notes for how they look, he also took some small liberties with their designs and... ugh theyre great im keeping them), so those two could provide some insight to my character design sensibilities, even if they're just a small fraction of the (mental) character designs I have.

Bellum is made up of pieces of his canonical design, pieces that I think make sense considering what we know about him, and just pieces of other character designs. He has more or less the same haircut as Joker/the protagonist from Persona 5. His hair has been like that for a while, but seeing Joker's hair helped me figure out specifically what I wanted.

It's been... hard, trying to give him a humanoid design, I've seen a bunch of other human Bellum designs, looked at other Zelda characters with both human and inhuman forms, took inspiration for what I could do and how and what parts could be carried over. His hair is easy to explain, it literally is meant to look like he does as a demon. Easy. It is absolutely directly inspired by that bitch from Tokyo Ghoul. I'm not looking up the character name I don't care about Tokyo Ghoul.

I keep him having sharp teeth, I've transposed those markings on his bodies as being scars (which I'll elaborate a little more on later), kept his eye and that he only has one main eye (there is nothing under the eyepatch. It's just smooth. If you've seen The Goonies, it's like what's going on with One-Eyed Willy. That's probably where I got it from tbh), the yellow and black color scheme is further kept with a yellow tank top-esque shirt and black pants and boots, and while they're not constantly present he still has access to his tentacles.

He's not human, just pretending to be.

Leading me to some other little details, such as his lack of ears. And nails. And. Other things not visible that he didn't bother with. He pretends to be human, but doesn't care enough to look truly human- though he can pass as human. When he does bother to actually look human, he does have nails and ears, and changes his eye to a human one, with a color of choice. He goes by 'Warren' when actually pretending to be human. It doesn't mean anything in particular it's just a play on how 'bellum' is latin for 'war'. But, most of the time, he's not really trying. A sense of lack of real care is something I try to communicate with his humanoid design, hence him having generally baggy and plain clothes.

The 'war' thing about his character I think is decently expressed in game with him having an army of sorts with the phantoms and him just coming off as sort of violent but strategic. He also seems very scrappy, mostly attacks with direct contact including just straight up running into Link, and seems to put a lot of stock into sheer force and just fucking killing you at any cost after a certain point, but seems genuinely wary and cornered once someone is shown to be capable of actually posing an actual threat. I like the idea of human Bellum being a bit of a brawler in a sense, fighting with his bare hands and just being incredibly violent when he fights like a human, really only breaking out his more supernatural abilities when he just wants to get shit over with.

Part of the fun with Bellum is that there isn't much to him, so I'm taking a lot of liberties with him. His loose clothes are something that won't really get in the way of him fighting and do the bare minimum, and the boots he wears have metal toes for just a bit of extra ways to hurt people. He's built but still soft in places, not intended to be a muscular as Damien, he's intentionally designed his own human form to be a bit unassuming, so I've kept that he's made of a lot of circular shapes, his face is meant to be a bit of a round shape, his hair gives a round shape, and though he's fairly tall (he and Damien are 6 feet tall btw Linebeck throws off every post-ph cast height comparison) I think of him being a bit... small? If that makes sense? His clothes help with that, they're slightly oversized, and his posture isn't great; He's a bit like a delinquent, starting fights intentionally for the sake of violence and putting little effort into his appearance.

His scars are technically cosmetic. They aren't results of injuries; technically nothing but the Phantom Sword and things like it can hurt him. His scars are references to the markings on his demon body, and just further reflection of him being a creature all about violence and conflict. They aren't totally consistent between the times he uses his human form, but some of the bigger ones are, most notably the scar across his face.

I'll be honest. My earliest human Bellum designs were some Tumblr sexyman shit and I've been trying to ditch that SO BAD ever since. I think I've done well. The scar across his face is a big one. An added imperfection, a massive facial blemish that isn't really conventionally great to look at. His nose specifically has been though some development stages, at first I kept switching between different full nose shapes, then brought in the facial scar and decided that he'd be missing a chunk of that nose, then, decided, fuck it! I can't decide on a nose shape, so he gets no nose at all. I think it works pretty well and I like it.

I really tried to get in a lot of his personality to the design, and I don't want to go into all of it in this section, so just keep in mind that a lot of his design has been influenced by the way I've decided to write him, and some stuff I've already mentioned might be made a little clearer when I get into that. As a quick aside, he's pale partially because I've intentionally made him look halfway similar to Link, and partially because I figure he does not get a lot of sun; you literally meet him in what is effectively a basement, and from the way he operates, probably hasn't made himself seen in a while by the time the events of the game happen. He can't get sunburns, but, as he cannot change a lot of extremely major things about his human form, he can't manually change his skin tone in a major way, and it's likely that when he was considerably younger and newer and spent time in the sun, his skin tone would be closer to Oshus's, so a bit more tan.

In the Context of Phantom Hourglass and Post-PH

Moving swiftly on, as there is pretty much no real info about Bellum's background, I have taken matters into my own hands and decided a lot of it for myself in headcanon; Bellum is technically Oshus's son. Not in the traditional sense, but he was created by Oshus and can very much be considered his child, and to an extent, Ciela, Leaf, and Neri are all also Oshus's kids due to them being created by him (yea even considering Ciela calling him 'grandpa', in her and my defense she lost her memories and he is old as a human), therefore making (in some terms) Bellum to be Oshus's son and the brother of the three spirits. I think it's an interesting dynamic, to have Oshus be the one responsible for Bellum's existence, and for the three spirits you travel with and help you defeat Bellum to be closely related to him.

Oshus himself (when you get the hourglass in ph) says that the sand of hours is made of force gems of the ocean king (whatever... that wording means)- which then suggests that at the end of the day, all sands of hours are derived from the power of the ocean king, and Bellum dissolves into that sand at the end of the game, and I am standing in front of a wild-looking conspiracy cork board trying to piece this all together. I find it interesting if Oshus was the one who created Bellum before he created the three spirits.

(This is a topic for another post/fic but Leaf and Neri were neglected so bad in ph and it would be interesting to see more of how they feel abt Ciela before she gets her memories back and how they feel abt... anything else ig. I think they're neat, too, and I like tying the spirits together with Bellum in this way)

In Phantom Hourglass, it's strongly suggested (mostly through dialogue) that it's been a decent amount of time since Bellum defeated Oshus and took over the Temple of the Ocean King and created the Ghost Ship (though I suppose it could be possible that the Ghost Ship's existence precedes Bellum taking over that temple and defeating Oshus), but things across that sea are relatively calm, despite the new influx of monsters and the Ghost Ship making most people too afraid to sail. No one knows it's Bellum, though, and people do know about the Ocean King, so I wonder if Bellum is known about at all by the general public, or is a being that's more or less completely unknown? My personal theory is that he's vaguely known in some sense, as an obscure deity, and that he was behind the collapse of the Cobble Kingdom, since they were aligned with the Ocean King and Bellum appears to be his direct enemy and would likely then target the allies of his enemy.

Bellum seems to do a lot of behind the scenes stuff, never been seen until the end of the game and not even being mentioned until halfway through. As I think I've said before, he's practically won by the time he comes across Link and Tetra, the Ghost Ship going out and collecting people for him while he sits at the bottom of the temple and drains anyone who might be heading directly for him. He doesn't even seem to concerned about hunting Oshus down for good, and I suspect he likely doesn't even know about Ciela being split apart, so (asides from my idea that gods/spirits/stuff like that only being able to be sealed away, only properly killed under certain circumstances) I bet there's a level of confidence that he's got things under tight enough wraps that he's good to do whatever he wants.

Aaaand then he panics when he realizes how much of a wrench in his plans Link is, throwing two sea monsters at him and causing earthquakes, he's a procrastinator, I think. That, or he underestimated this kid. Both are very possible. Either way, it's interesting to look at what he's done and caused, hiding away the spirits and beating back the Ocean King, taking over his temple, creating the Ghost Ship to roam indefinitely, screwing with the Yook and wiping out pretty much all of the Isle of Ember, and likely being the reason behind the increased number of monsters. If you really look into it, while most characters don't really seem to realize, things are kind of fucked at the start of Phantom Hourglass, and it's interesting how Oshus himself seems powerless and even dissuades Link from giving it a shot, even if he secretly wants him to go and handle things.

With my idea of Bellum being a sort of technical relative to Oshus and the spirits, it opens up a handful of new avenues for motivation beyond just being after securing control and a steady stream of prey, I enjoy the idea of it being a matter of him becoming more and more ambitious, far beyond the station he was created for; going off of his name and ability to create phantoms, I imagine Oshus created him specifically to be warlike, perhaps initially with the intention of having him as a more violent protector of the realm, maybe to keep monsters in check or maybe just as a secondary deity for the world of the ocean king; I'll admit, I'm still a little foggy on what Bellum would've been initially created for, the spirits are easy to figure out, but I do figure it was something not as passive as just representing something, I imagine it as a deliberate opposite to Oshus himself to account for his weaknesses. Either way, I figure a part of Bellum's motivation involves him wanting more than he was given access to by Oshus, and deciding to fully wage war against him in a sense. The short and silly version is that Bellum is Oshus' shitty disowned son. Oshus isn't entirely innocent in whatever I decide caused Bellum to turn on him and the spirits, but Bellum does suck: that is important. The Cobble Kingdom looks like it's been destroyed for a while, I figure that was Bellum's first major target when he started outwardly going after Oshus and hunting the humans of the realm.

In Post-PH, he's the group's pet evil squid on a very very very short leash until he starts behaving himself and having a character arc.

Effectively, Bellum doesn't die at the end of Phantom Hourglass, instead being broken down into the sand of hours he's made of and being sealed inside the Phantom Sword- after all, after the final boss, the sand Bellum turns into goes into the Phantom Sword. I imagine that the Phantom Sword, after breaking and restoring Oshus, turns into the hourglass for Link to keep, while Oshus and the spirits keep the remaining sands, therefore keeping a hold of Bellum. (A bit like Oshus just being left alone after Bellum defeating him, they can't really kill Bellum so they just keep an eye on him while he's in a weakened state) They kind of just keep him prisoner at the bottom of the Temple for a bit, and Oshus finally decides to send him to Link's world as a punishment, since he's at his weakest and Oshus wants to get him to learn some lesson, it's a work in progress. Bellum is grounded in Post-PH.

It's basically that 'the villain when you unlock him as a playable character' bit, where he's quite a bit weaker than he is in Phantom Hourglass, though mostly for the sake of keeping things balanced, so Bellum can't break everything for everyone. He's still powerful, he still accesses his demon form, can't be conventionally killed or injured, and move through walls and turn people to stone, the whole deal, it's just that his demon form's size is impacted (i hc that the size of his demon form can be manipulated at will, but the largest size is dependent of how much power/stored life force he has. he's small at the start of post-ph, but his human form isnt impacted at all. i imagine that for beings like oshus and bellum, their human form is a like a 'low power mode' kinda thing) So Bellum is the Post-PH crew's fourth member, the swabbie on the ship and pet sea monster when they need it and when he has the energy for it.

Bellum is kept mostly in line by a vague fear of Link and his general fear, respect, and curiosity about Linebeck. Linebeck is usually the one holding onto Bellum's leash. Bellum is decently civil with the group from the start, since he's weak and unable to return home until Oshus permits it or he gathers enough power to make that trip, and works mostly as a fighter- when he wants to. The earliest limitation I came up for him, since he's the member with the highest chance of breaking things, is that he will just straight-up choose not to help. He decides he's busy, decides it's not his problem, or other limitations, such as his involvement likely to cause more problems that they solve, since he's rather destructive when fighting.

He's the least sociable most of the time, for obvious reasons, but can pretend, and has the least... casual skills to offer to the group, hence why he gets stuck as swabbie (also general disrespect/as a punishment for the ph thing) and it takes a while for him to properly warm up to the rest of the group. He and Linebeck start off on decent terms and get closer through them just initially trusting each other, he and Link take the longest to get used to each other for... obvious reasons, it takes a lot of fighting together and seeing that they can rely on each other and they learn to be decent with each other just by existing in the same space, and things with Damien start off half decent, Damien was not present during Phantom Hourglass (obviously) and doesn't have the full context of how much he sucks, but it starts decent, gets worse when he learns what happened, and then gets good again because Damien's kind of amiable in general and sees that Linebeck thinks he's fine.

SO! To actually address your question about him being 'redeemed'- he does have a bit of an arc that I'm still mentally workshopping. He isn't entirely redeemed, as the group's general morality is a big off-kilter when Link isn't looking or is willing to get a little gray with things, and there's not really a whooooole lot of atonement Bellum can do in terms of the volume of bullshit he pulled in the past. It's less him atoning or w/e for the bullshit he's done, that's not entirely feasible, it's more him just. being forced to Be Decent and learn some actual kindness and think about more than just his own survival, he's essentially forced to actually appreciate life and the world, it's more him actually... experiencing the world for a reason other than consumption and war and conflict and doing what he's been told, he's effectively just on this long voyage with Linebeck, Link, and Damien, going with them from island to island and seeing what's up. I'm going to try and keep empathy out of it, so he's not really relating on a visceral level, more just choosing to be kind and take gentler paths to solving problems and interacting with others. He's also the group gremlin.

The way I write Bellum is definitionally inspired by other characters, Power from Chainsaw Man comes to mind in how he has a kind of shitty brat attitude at times, he'd fling vegetables across the room because he's a piece of shit who likes live meat. He's got his shitty messy delinquent loser side, where he causes problems and acts like some asshole teenager, and he's got his more serious, calm, almost professional seeming side that reminds the group that he's a few centuries old at the least and practically a god in his own right; generally outside of Post-PH I would pick one of these two sides to focus on for aus, but in Post-PH I need to figure out how the two of them work with how Bellum generally operates.

He's interested in Linebeck and initially decides to go along because he wants to figure him out, but grows to enjoy the rest of the group and that curiosity expands to involve the world as a whole; he experiences things like art and music, where he can't just brute-force his way into a satisfactory outcome and has to learn and find his own style, he reads books and listens to stories and sees the different ways humans live on the seas and I want his arc to, in some part, be about him just finding meaning in the world beyond what he does to secure survival, and the other members of the group introduce him to those other facets of life that he has access to, has had access to. The other part is the group getting Bellum to see most living things as more than just prey for him to hunt and consume, but that generally goes hand in hand with the prior point, as he actually enjoys life and figures out what he likes beyond the basic things he was created for.

He can't fall back on just smashing through everything or creating phantoms, since he's far too weak to do either effectively at the start, and I intend to just force Bellum into basically just being a human character with some unusually powerful magic at his fingertips, first just wanting to build himself back up to what he was in Phantom Hourglass, then just getting to see things in a new light. I'm not sure how to explain it or even what I'll want to do when I get to it, but that's the general gist of his arc, I think.

Other than that, he's just the fourth members of the crew with a serious knowledge of... a lot of things as a centuries-old demon and the hardest hitter in the group who can't and won't cook for shit and kind of just learns to actually live without constantly gunning for those bare necessities long after he's gotten them. I don't want it to be 'he learns to be human' because he... isn't human, but just him appreciating life and seeing some value in it, especially as something with as much power as Bellum, it's a bit messy and I'm still figuring it out, but I've got the general direction figured out.

Bellum is effectively the ship's best defender, and ends up fitting into the group as a friend and with his own specific role with the other individual members of the group. Linebeck kind of kickstarts his arc for him and connects with him the most and Bellum generally stays the closest with him, but Damien and Link help him see other little corners of life, as well as other characters he has to interact with, and I think I want Bellum's side of the story to have the most outstanding mundane-ity to it- there's absolutely meant to be a slice-of-life aspect to Post-PH, but I want the biggest points of Bellum's arc to be comparably the most mundane. It's the little things with him. The others have little things, too, but... I'm not sure how to express the difference, but I promise there is a difference.

Outside of Post-PH, though, when Bellum is present in a big way, his arc either tackles a similar idea in a different way, is just about something entirely different, or he doesn't have an arc at all, either due to not being a big enough part of the story or just straight up not being present.

In the Context of AUs

Bellum is only present in a handful of aus, either fully present as a character, halfway present, or just being referenced. When he is present in an au, he's usually some kind of major character, and he's notable in the crimson king au, the space au, the murder mystery au, and the horror au and one of my 'ruined hyrule' aus. (the horror and ruined hyrule au will be put together for this bc bellum's role in both are very similar) (for reference, here's my au explanation post)

In the horror au and ruined hyrule au, Bellum serves juuuust about the same role, just with different capabilities, contexts, all of that, but it's more or less the same thing. He's frequently present, but usually not acknowledged, and is very close to Linebeck in both, and the two of them pretty much rely on each other to live due to circumstances out of their control; they didn't really go into this whole thing liking each other, but have been more or less forced to become each other's friends due to proximity and just. Needing the others' presence in order to survive. In both, Bellum usually is a character who knows more than the others, but doesn't bother sharing that information since it's either not totally relevant or he just doesn't want to, and he tends to be protective of Linebeck, half because he needs him in order to live, half just because he's ended up liking him. (there is. more to say. but since i may actually write one of these aus [likely ruined hyrule bc the horror one has to be visual and it is VERY plotless rn] i'm not gonna go into much more depth since it would require spoilers lol)

Can't say a whole lot about the space au, either, since the story of that one is still a work in progress, and Bellum isn't particularly a major character, though he is important to some B-plot stuff. Without digging up too much world building and background and general story stuff and important plot bits, he's got a fairly close relationship to Linebeck in this au, as a general beneficiary and friend, and he actually tends to mind his own business and just wants to hold his own position; he's not really antagonistic or anything, but definitionally morally dubious even if he doesn't really directly do a whole lot.

In the Crimson King au, though, Bellum is one of the main characters, and a bit different than in ph-related stuff. He spends a lot of time in his human form, only switching to his little demon form a handful of times, and usually just for fun. He plays the role of Linebeck's closest friend and beneficiary, practically being the reason why Linebeck is able to do any of the things he does in the story, helping him from behind the scenes at times and balancing that business with Linebeck with his more outward appearance as a mostly normal guy working for the person who runs his section of the city... who also happens to be him. The vague politics in this au would take a bit to explain in full, but Bellum in this au spends a lot of time keeping his actual identity under wraps, the basic premise being that he's decided to integrate himself into current mortal society like a normal person to see what trouble he can cause, how he could sustain himself while keeping things stable, and to see just how far he can go- essentially, the only danger he faces is if others figure out what he is, but even then, he knows he could very easily cut his losses and go back to what he's done best.

He's not very active in the main plot, mostly giving Linebeck assignments and pulling strings behind the scenes in order to help and keep him safe, but Bellum does occasionally meddle directly in Linebeck's situation whenever it relates to him, when he needs something extra done, or, later in the story, when he gets a bit worried about Linebeck. His general arc is essentially him owning up to the fact that he does, in fact, care about Linebeck's well-being. Crimson King Bellum is fun, because he can't really just be 'violent demon', and I just like the supporting role I've got him in. He's Linebeck's rich friend who hires him to kill people for him. It's fun.

How I Like to Write Him With Linebeck

Of course, Bellum is going to have stuff with Linebeck, both in aus and in post-ph. Bellum has interactions and relationships with other characters, but the dynamic(s) with Linebeck tend to be the most diverse and important.

With aus: There’s usually a general sense that Bellum is above Linebeck, both in the power sense and in the sense that he’s typically his boss or in charge of him, but in a handful they are on equal footing (specifically, the modern school one, where they’re just classmates.)- the most common dynamic is usually along the lines of Bellum hiring Linebeck to kill people for him. Bellum is typically someone that provides Linebeck with things like payment or equipment or safety- in the Crimson King au, he gives Linebeck a fair amount of money, and supplies his equipment and gives him a place to live when he does jobs for him.

I like to imagine there's a level of... recognition? Not empathy, trying to keep that to a minimum... He's almost gentle with Linebeck, and is uncharacteristically merciful towards him. In post-ph, Linebeck survives being possessed and this marks him as notable to Bellum, since most people he possess die very soon after being released, so he's initially motivated by curiosity and a desire to observe Linebeck when he acts less violently- that curiosity is the biggest reason why he's cordial with Linebeck across my aus as well.

With Phantom Hourglass-centric stuff (which is what I'll mostly just talk about here, since it's kind of the 'base' for all other Bellum and Linebeck stuff I do), Linebeck and Bellum start on halfway decent terms, I'm planning a Bellumbeck fic sometime in the future, which is a bit less focused on that actual fight and more on whatever's going on between Linebeck and Bellum. I'm still trying to pin down exactly what I want with Linebeck and Bellum's dynamic.

I’ve fallen back into shipping them, (Still iffy on ship name lmfao, Bellumbeck is taken by the game and ‘Linebellum’ is lame imo, so I’ve been sticking with just ‘bellum x linebeck’) but it’s not really typically romantic/sexual, though there are some aspects of both, it’s still kind of abstract and easier to define with example stuff rather than just trying to explain it in a concise paragraph.

They both go out of their way to effectively research each other before properly meeting, starting as just trying to find advantageous information, but eventually just doing research out of curiosity, especially on Linebeck’s end, hunting down any material that so much as alludes to Bellum while Oshus refuses to say anything extra on the topic. They have a mutual interest and curiosity about each other.

With Bellum, its a similar curiosity with how Linebeck survives being possessed, and a general interest in him as a person, as Bellum doesn't really care much about the world beyond how it can serve him, but felt the need to look into Linebeck. A lot of the time, Bellum starts with the intention of exploiting Linebeck in some way, then ends up actually caring about him, he usually goes through variations of the same arc regarding Linebeck. It works with Linebeck for me since I tend to read and write him as fairly morally gray, so he's more willing to reciprocate Bellum.

(There's also the whole bit with Linebeck being kind of a monsterfucker and having a thing for being tied up and just a handful of like. sexual stuff on Linebeck's end, but we're talking about Bellum's perspective here we can't be focusing on Linebeck)

Bellum primarily operates with survival on the mind, and at odds with anything that might get in his way, and secondarily treats mortal creatures as something to study. When his attempt to use Linebeck fails, he shifts to that studying, and therefore has some respect for him due to his survival. They both focus quite a lot on survival, and don't have the most interest in making connections, seeing most relationships as transactional. They understand each other; Bellum sees Linebeck's mind when possessing him, and therefore knows a great deal about him.

There are similarities between them; not-great relationships with their fathers, a strong desire for survival at any cost, generally low empathy and a habit of mostly viewing others for how they can be used, curiosity about anatomy, a higher tolerance for things like blood, gore, things that would likely make others squeamish, they both hate Ciela...

(As an aside to that last one, an idea I've decided to integrate into my ph stuff and may touch on in a future fic is that Linebeck calling Ciela 'sparkles' gives her a strong sense of deja-vu before she gets all of her memories back; it's something Bellum would call her, when he was more cordial with the other spirits)

Bellum hangs around on the ship, and he hangs around Linebeck the most, to the point of being annoying, but learns what boundaries are and ends up respecting them decently. I lean more into... things just working out, Bellum more or less being put in a situation where he chooses to change things up and be a bit kinder, starting with the guy he's decided was the catalyst for all of this.

He gets along well enough with Damien (damien ends up in that shipping, too, considering that he's already dating linebeck by the time bellum sorts his own feelings out, so in post-ph, bellum ends up being a sort of on-and-off polycule member), he is eventually friendly with Link, often because Linebeck likes him as well. It takes a very long time for he and Link to warm up to each other, so they'll likely end up in situations where they must rely on each other at the start of things.

Bellum is… very not used to social stuff or acting human, and isn’t even very used to his human form at the start, so he does spend that time with Linebeck while he figures things out, as well. Linebeck's not the best role model for decent social interaction, especially since he works on dismantling his own mask and figuring himself out for a bit at the start of post-ph, but he's the only person Bellum tolerates and respects at that start.

Bellum eventually gets roped into helping Linebeck cook, follows him around for ship maintenance, watches him patch up wounds, and just ends up as a crew member that can kind of fill any basic role, but he’s not making it much further than swabbie.

I haven’t actually written a ton of interaction between them yet, but what I have written always comes off as casual, almost humorous, they joke around with each other and Bellum is detached and unserious at times, but very capable of switching to dead seriousness. A lot of the time, Linebeck tends to take things more seriously at face value, but Bellum is more prone to joking around due to the fact that very few consequences mean anything to him.

He and Linebeck are typically close in one sense or another in most things where they're included, and I generally consider all dynamics between them to fall under the ship umbrella, because I don't consider it strictly romantic (though it usually ends up being vaguely like that), just more that there's some kind of intimacy between them at some point. It's a relationship whose dynamic I think is interesting given the... lack of actual interaction between them, but with just enough interesting conclusions that can be drawn.

I guess it's similar to the general stuff I have about Bellum, kind of just scraping ideas together from canon and then following whatever threads can be connected to them, while trying to make sure it still has roots in that canon. It's similar to my personal 'design philosophy' or whatever for my aus.

I've also considered making their relationship parasitic in someway, as a sort of homage/callback/reference to their canonical relationship, but it's not entirely a direction I really want to go in, and I feel like some aus get decently close.

Final Points

I think Bellum's really neat, so considering the general lack of information or depth to him, I've been playing with expanded ideas and building up my own ideas for him, specific within the context of Phantom Hourglass and a post-ph setting, while many of my other ideas with him tend to then derive from that.

His (human) design is one I've spent a very long time figuring out, trying to mix his demon design in with more human traits, trying to keep him distinctive without getting too complicated, and trying to have that design represent him decently with a fair bit of reasoning behind a lot of that design. It's something Bellum himself controls to a certain degree, so it's in a bit of a crossroads between portraying him based on his character, and being something he uses to come off as generally innocuous.

I've got a decent idea of what Bellum's whole deal is in Phantom Hourglass and afterwards, and I use him in a fair number of aus, often in tangent with Linebeck, whom I often give him some kind of intimate relationship, be it romantic or some other form of closeness, based off of ideas for ways they would interact and why.

Bellum's fun! He's fun as he is, and he's fun to build off of and develop further than what we see in the game. And giving him the ability to shift into a humanoid shape gives even more room to play around in. I don't know when I first came up with the idea, but I've had ideas for a human form Bellum for quite some time now, I've just only recently really started solidifying a lot of it. Even between the time when I got the ask and finished it, I came up with new ideas.

But for now, these are the broad strokes! Not just about post-ph humanoid Bellum, just about my ideas for him in general, though it all really relates back to that one in particular, honestly.

He's surprisingly fun to speculate about! I didn't really expect Bellum to end up as one of my favorite LoZ characters, but I guess any character can end up as your favorite if you spend enough time thinking about him. At the end of the day I think he's funky, and he's fun to use in a post-ph setting.

#asks #goopi-e #bellum #long post #salty talks #linebeck #he's important <3 #phantom hourglass #post ph #i have like no excuse for why this took so long. initially it was bc i was waiting on that bellum commission but then like #the day i wrote this (+ the prior) tag i bought and played fallout new vegas for a few hours. it fell in with my other writing projects lol #i think rn myb iggest issue w/ post ph is that everyone seems to revolve around linebeck a bit much #idk if thats. terrible a breaker i mean hes their captain hes kinda the main character he's the one link (heh) between all of them #bellum probably has the biggest arc bc hes the shittiest at the start and everyone is already kinda partway through one #like i think links is gonna be abt him disconnecting from being a hero and just enjoying life on his own terms and doing non hero things #linebecks is uh. trauma recovery. among other things. like everyone has trauma recovery as a part of it but linebecks is the big one #damiens is... man idk hes just There i think his is gonna have smth to do with his relationship w/ linebeck and the others #damien is just some fucking dude hes not too terribly traumatized or has this huge place in the world he's jsut some trans guy #it kinda sucks that a lot of the stuff i think up for him relates to linebeck like i want him to have his own thing but i made him too...#hes too ok with things!!!!! hes just some fucking guy!!!! maybe i can have him just figure out his place in this larger world hes exploring #anyways bellum needs to be nerfed in a handful of different ways bc otherwise hes a get out of jail free card in a lot of contexts #ughhh this took too long im sorry but i just kept coming up with new stuff id practically classify this as a fic #this took a while to plan and this fucking thing is also so long and it still doesnt really cover everything #not even bc i havent fully figured out what i want to do with him like theres just stuff im uncertain on how to explain in a concise manner #the whole thing between link n bellum is kinda simple. they hate each other and then have to work together and decide that theyre decent #damien is just. pleasant most of the time. so hes kinda chill with bellum. he's had experience with minor gods n deities #his weird thing is that he is technically normal but he is on good terms with a lot of supernatural/godly beings #theres def a lot of random minor gods n spirits n supernatural creatures all over the great sea with the absence of larger gods' influence #kinda lost the point of the og ask so i hope thats ok

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