❃・Blog Owner: @thewhumpcaretaker | he/him or she/her, androsexual, dacryphiliac, mid-20s. Designer by day, figure artist and hurt/comfort erotica enthusiast by night. On the comfort side of hurt/comfort. Wildly protective and dominant ♡
❃・Content: Appreciation for Sebastian LaCroix, and planning to reblog lots of other people's OCs and art. Crossovers with the John Wick universe, and perhaps other universes if I think of any. Writing will lean towards whump and angst. Please be aware that heavy topics will be discussed and your favorite characters will suffer!
❃・OCs: @clementgray | @clarette-arsenault | @the-sambo-devil (AU of a John Wick OC - under construction) | @leo-bolden (AU of a John Wick OC - under construction)
❃・Fics: Marquis of Los Angeles, VTM and John Wick Crossover Fic | Failed Invasion, LaCroix Fic | Lowly as the Rats, LaCroix Fic | A Christmas Venture, Secret Santa Fic | The Beast Attacks Itself, OCxLaCroix Fic
Banner Source - @cafekitsune | Blog Banner | Profile Picture
Yesterday, me and my brother’s cat got hit by a motorbike rendering him limping around, which was something we both learned after class.
Gigi (our cat) is basically my brother’s best friend, and with medical and educational expenses all adding up, my parents can’t quite give the time or funds to send Gigi to a vet :( So being the only other adult in the house, I gotta take Gigi to the vet to be treated properly + check for any infection
ko-fi commissions | original comms sheet
it’s okay if you can’t commission me! just reblogging is fine!
this is gigi btw
he is named after gigi from kiki’s delivery service because we have a studio ghibli addiction
I wrote a scene for Aidan and LaCroix in the main timeline around 2 nights after Venture Tower exploded and Aidan makes his ultimatum
Roughly ~3000 words or so of my slop...
I don't usually write (at least, not long, concerted efforts) so let me know if you enjoy it....
Sebastian startled at the click of a door opening. An animal, terrified part of him told him to run, that the worst had finally come for him, but it was only the fledgling. He didn’t know if that made it better or worse.
Aidan. He could already feel a migraine forming in the back of his skull.
“Fuck! Finally! Can you speak? Never thought I’d miss the sound of your voice, but if the last couple of weeks meant anything, shit--anything can happen.”
Sebastian frowned, then raised a hand to his jaw, working it open and closed with a grimace as he felt a tendon pop, but nothing else. It must have healed overnight.
Aidan’s face lit up with his usual devil-may-care grin, but his eyes remained fixed on him, un-upturned. In the limited time that he had spent with the fledgling, the sight was not reassuring. “Perfect. Now say ahhh.”
“Is this necessary?” Sebastian bit, voice coming out in a pathetic croak. His throat itched horribly. He swallowed a cough and pushed himself upright, wincing as he was suddenly reminded that he was still nowhere near ‘well’.
“No. But neither was dragging your ass from that tower. Think they’ll buy the whole terrorist thing again? Not the first time a tower blew up in the past couple of years. Maybe if we spin it, the neighborhood’ll just think it was fireworks.”
Of course he would go there. A frisson of anger burned in his gut at yet another reminder of his current position. Of his failure. He sucked in a useless breath, letting the air pass slowly and methodically through his long-dead lungs.
He sat in the rage and humiliation long enough to taste ash in his mouth before letting it go. The sting was, for all it was worth, welcome. Or it should be, even though the thought of it made him want to tear through the entire motel, mortal television and the Masquerade be damned. The gnawing ache of his wounds, the pounding in his head, the Beast battering at his ribcage--it meant that he had once again evaded Final Death. Although, if he hadn’t miscalculated…
He mentally shook his thoughts free of the inevitable self-recrimination. Not here. Doubt was a guest he was used to receiving, but it was not welcome here.
“I…apologize. These last few nights have been…difficult, as you can imagine.”
Aidan nodded, still grinning like he’d said something uproariously funny. “Yea? I wouldn’t know.”
Another stab of irritation. Sebastian fought it down. “And I haven’t been of a mind to show you my appreciation for your devotion. Retrieving the sarcophagus had been no trivial task--I was more than aware of the magnitude of what I was asking of you. And yet, in defiance of all that opposed you, you achieved the impossible.”
Sebastian raised his left hand, slowly curling and flexing his fingers. Aidan almost seemed to be ignoring him as he started rummaging through a suitcase, although he could tell from the way that his body angled towards him that he was still listening. He watched the other man pull out a torn-up, bloodied shirt and make a face before sniffing and tossing it in the general direction of the garbage can.
“We shouldn’t have survived. Would not have, if not for your foresight. Had you been absent, I would have still pursued the sarcophagus. Perhaps it would have remained out of my reach, withheld from me by the obstacles only you could have so deftly removed. Perhaps not, and I would have fallen victim to the plots against me, plunging Los Angeles into chaos.”
“So…in addition to an apology, I owe you my thanks. Poor recompense--I’m aware--but I assure you that you will be suitably rewarded once I recover my holdings. A position in my Court, no, by my side at minimum. And then, anything that you want--to the limits of your imagination and beyond! You’ve more than earned it.”
Aidan’s silence was beginning to unsettle him. The fledgling stiffened for a moment, almost turning on his heel, before returning to the suitcase. His hands rested contemplatively on its surface. He still wasn’t looking at him. “You’re planning on going back? To that shit-show?”
“Of course! Of course,” he corrected, pruning the brief lapse of genuine emotion from his response. “Despite everything, we cannot allow Los Angeles to fall into Anarch hands, can we? Don’t imagine that even the most preeminent members of my Court could adequately take my place. They desire power, but flinch from the prospect of genuine leadership. After everything we’ve worked for--together--we simply cannot falter now.”
He shook his head, as if deeply disapproving.
“It is disquieting that the Anarchs would stoop so low, but I should not have put an assassination attempt above them, no matter how elaborate. Yes…it all makes sense. Hindsight, hah! I should have known that this was Jack’s work. That…that miscreant! Scurrilous wretch! Upon our return, we will show them exactly what we think of their little ‘prank’ and drive them from the domain once and for all. This was only a temporary setback, nothing more.”
Another long pause filled the air, seemingly interminable, before Aidan snorted and clicked the suitcase shut. “Funny.” The Ventrue barked out a laugh.
“...What’s funny?”
“You. Just like, everything. But mostly that you thought I was going back.”
What? “What?”
“Think I’m fuckin’ stupid or something? No way, bro. And it’s crazier that you thought I’d help you.”
Sebastian affected a look of concern--hurt, even. Internally, he was thinking of strangling the other man.
“So then why?...I see. I thought that you had valued our partnership, that what had happened wouldn’t have driven a wedge between us, but--”
“But nothing. It’s not about you. You had your chance to call the shots. Now? I’m taking the wheel. You ain’t got the legs to drive,” the fledgling sneered, gesturing helpfully to the way Sebastian’s legs were cut short at the knee, flesh stretching taut over the joint as muscle and bone painfully reconstituted themselves.
“Point is, I’m not going back. I’ve got my own reasons--most of them being that I’m not in the mood to help you untangle that clusterfuck. The clusterfuck you made, by the way. I was just following orders.”
He wouldn’t frenzy here. Couldn’t--too much was at stake. Sebastian felt his molars grind as he exercised every inch of his willpower to battle back the Beast threatening to wrestle itself out of his ribcage. He still had options. He still had--time. Where was this insouciance when it was Aidan’s life in mortal danger? At least he could have beaten the fledgling into submission then. His injuries--his weakness--must have emboldened him. Jack’s stunt had not only shattered the authority of his office, but his illusion of invulnerability.
But if Aidan truly had no desire to return to LA…that left the question of what exactly the other Ventrue stood to gain by preserving him. Was it pure instinct? To go back into the fire and drag him out?
“So…” Aidan drawled, interrupting his thoughts. “I got a proposition for you.”
Something must have shown on his face, or perhaps Aidan had finally developed some measure of deductive reasoning. The fledgling smirked.
“You saved my life back at the theater there, true. Or, you know, you just didn’t kill me. And I paid that back--maybe more than I should’ve. But now we’ve both got scorched asses and nothing to show for it.” He spreads his hands wide, palms facing forward as if to convey their emptiness.
“And if I go limping into, say, Seattle, having been kept in the dark and fed bullshit, how much do you wanna bet that the same thing that we just saw here happens again?”
Sebastian didn’t object.
Aidan continued, smirk falling from his face. “You can do something about it, you know. I bet they don’t let just anyone walk in and call themselves Prince. You’re like what, two-hundred? People don’t get to that age by collecting bottle caps. But you won’t be able to call yourself that again for some time, won’t you? Blown up by your own MacGuffin. That’s not gonna look good on a résumé.”
Sebastian considered what he heard cautiously.
“Pardon me, but if I am understanding you correctly--you don’t wish to continue our partnership, yet you’re asking me for help?” With what?
Aidan walked over to the doorway in a few long strides. A fire axe leaned against the door frame. He picked it up and let it smack into his hand, feeling the weight and heft of it in his palm, then turned back to face him.
“I ain’t askin’,” he replied quietly.
Sebastian’s gaze slowly drifted to the weapon in Aidan’s hands. The movement was snake-like, robotic.
Of course. An ultimatum. That was what this was all about. And as furious as it made him, Sebastian was in no state to fight it. He was lucky--no, it was a miracle that he didn’t suffer Final Death, let alone torpor. And even more of a miracle that Aidan had not willfully resorted to the blood bond to subvert him.
It was only two nights. Close.
The taste of vitae still lingered in his mouth--too thick, too sweet for a barely two week old fledgling of his Sire’s lineage. With no way to communicate his feeding preference to the other Ventrue, he had to, humiliatingly, accept it in order to restore himself. Anything to pacify the Hunger.
No, it was only in Sebastian’s favor that the fledgling was resorting to threatening him. Had he had no interest in allowing him to have a mind of his own, he wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.
“Then what are your terms? What exactly do you…require?”
Aidan tapped his fingers against the axehead, air of levity returning.
“Thought exercise. Let’s say that I start over. Brand new slate--nobody knows me. I walk up, shake some hands and start telling people that I know nothing but the bare basics of their society, that my Sire got executed for having me and that my head should’ve bounced off the chopping block too…only I managed to get off easy.” He rolled his shoulder in something like a shrug. “Jack told me that you only spared me because Nines stood up for me. He may have almost fucked us both, but something tells me he wasn’t lying. The Anarchs hold LA for sixty-odd years and you show up acting like you owned the place--even more than usual--well, this all would’ve happened sooner, wouldn’t it?”
“Most likely,” Sebastian conceded.
“Right. The Prince of whatever this hypothetical town is probably won’t have the same problem. Nobody’s breathing down his neck to keep him from taking one look at me and giving me the axe. And who’s gonna stop him? Me? It’d be my word against his, and we all know how much that means.” Aidan punctuated his point with another smack of the axe into his hand, curling his lip disdainfully. Sebastian presumed that he was remembering the bloodhunt.
“Nobody’s gonna take me seriously. Worse, nobody’s going to vouch for me. I can tear the head off of any son of a bitch who gets in my way, but I can’t be doing that, you hear me? Not forever. I need connections. A sponsor. And…for someone to actually tell me what the fuck is going on.”
Aidan lowered the axe to the floor, letting it fall in front of his legs and support his weight as he leaned in. “I want the whole nine yards. You said at the beginning of all this that I’m your responsibility now, right? Start acting like it.”
The implication of the fledgling’s words began to register in Sebastian’s mind, and with it, his future. Pieces for the plan ahead began gradually clicking into place. The longer he looked, the more optimistic he became. He had to resist the urge to raise his eyebrows. In truth, in terms of what Aidan was asking for, he wouldn’t have to change much. It was almost a recreation of their previous dynamic, only that he would have to become more heavily involved.
“So you desire a Sire,” he confirmed. The gleam in Aidan’s eyes told him that he was not mistaken.
“I would be happy to edify you in the manner of our clan. You have already proven a highly capable protege. However, in the way of…connections, I’m afraid a disgraced Prince has less to offer you. Puerile as it was, our displacement by the Anarchs will have consequences.”
“See? That’s what I like about you. You’re real smart,” Aidan cooed. “Gimme your investment and it’s my skin in the game too. Chew on that if you ever need some 'extra motivation'. No offense, but I didn’t exactly expect you to hold to your word.”
Sebastian sighed, seemingly disappointed. “To see that you have so little faith in me is truly disheartening, fledgling. Truly. But knowing that I will have your continued cooperation for the next decade…”
Aidan balked, to Sebastian's petty satisfaction.
“Woah woah woah, wait--decade?”
“Of course.” He tilted his head in mock innocence. “How long did you expect this venture to last? Surely not only a handful of months. Know that your Sire was something of an aberration. Contrary to her actions that night, Ventrue rarely Embrace without careful discernment. It’s a whole process. By receiving the Embrace, it means that you already possess the qualities to become a worthwhile candidate of our blood.”
“Now, persuading the rest of our organization of this fact requires a continuous and demonstrable show of excellence. As you have already encountered, there is no shortage of skepticism amongst our society for the one who decides to step up to the pedestal. And excellence…takes no insubstantial amount of time.”
Aidan gave him a long look. Sebastian could almost see the gears in his head turning as they tried to pick apart his words, turning over every leaf and stone for evidence of deception. He wouldn’t find any. Firstly because he was an excellent liar, but also because he was mostly telling the truth. The average Agoge--if that was indeed what Aidan was asking for--was long, by tradition. For more conservative Sires, a decade was on the fairly minimal end of things. The exact length of time depended solely on the Sire’s discretion and the Childe’s ability to consistently meet their standards. A decade would give him time to actually get something meaningful out of Aidan’s offer…and to hammer the fledgling into shape.
Admittedly, for a Ventrue candidate, he wasn’t bad. Not his first choice, but far from useless. He imagined that most of his labor would be spent on improving etiquette than anything else.
“If you’re sure,” Aidan finally decided, still sounding wary. His eyes flicked to Sebastian’s with a frown. He seemed to realize that he had no choice but to take his word for it when it came to Ventrue culture.
“I’m sure.” Sebastian leaned forward, apologetic. “You know, it’s not much better with anybody else. I know that the time seems daunting, but it’s something that we all must endure. My own Accounting was not much shorter, and my Sire was considerably less…” He searched for the word. “...contemporary.”
Aidan’s lip twitched at the irony. Direction, Sebastian had noticed, was what his new protege needed more than anything. And even in the humiliating state that he was in--by Caine, being strongarmed by a fledgling--he was all too happy to provide it.
“Just so we’re clear--what this means is that I will enfold you under my responsibility in accordance with the decrees of the Fourth Tradition and the traditions of Clan Ventrue. In acting as your Sire, your sins shall be my own and so shall I bear your consequences…as you nearly did for the actions of your previous Sire. In acting as my Childe, it’s your responsibility to honor my commands and to adhere to them to the best of your ability. One more time: is this truly what you want?”
Silence stretched between the two of them again, filling the air with the whirring of the motel’s cheap HVAC and the distant sound of traffic.
“Yea,” Aidan nodded, more to himself than anything. “Yea, fine. If that’s what’s really necessary, I can live with that. We can live forever, right? A decade’s nothing. But if you’re ever fucking with me--”
“I get the axe,” Sebastian predicted. The axe handle finished its arc into Aidan’s palm.
“You got it. No more games. No more bullshit. And no more trying to get me killed. You saw what I can do. Don’t think you won’t end up on the end of that. Things are gonna be different now than they were in LA--I’m not doing this all for your sake.”
“No,” Sebastian assented. “No you are not.” He watched the other Ventrue toss the axe aside. It missed the table, clattered off the edge and slid under the couch. As if he’d just remembered what he was doing, he returned to the suitcase.
After another moment of rummaging, Aidan finally seemed to have found what he was looking for. The fledgling snorted and tossed him something small and thin as it spun through the air. He caught it and looked down. A cigarette.
“Here. To our new partnership.” His eyes flicked downward at Sebastian’s burns. “It’s better than yesterday, but you still look like shit.”
Sebastian sighed. The cigarette found its way between his index and middle finger in a practiced motion and he tried not to flinch when the click of a lighter drew a flame near long enough to light it.
Aidan had his own cigarette close to his lips, blatantly ignoring the ‘no smoking’ sign nailed into the wall as smoke trailed past his teeth.
“Aidan…Know that I don’t intend to be your taskmaster. I never did. I only have the best for us in mind. Remember that.”
the sun never really comes up for him anymore. all vivienne has for warmth is this room that is suffocating and heavy, while embracing him with nostalgia. this room felt like everything that had stripped him raw of himself. it’s cold, yet warm.
the carpet was where it had been for the last fifty years. the bed remains untouched and collecting dust for decades. no bone in vivienne wants to move anything in here. touching anything, moving anything felt wrong. the room devours him whole everytime he steps in, once a week, a routine no one but him knows. what would his mother tell him knowing her daughter curls in the crooks of sweet nostalgia?
his mother rests in the empty space she’s left behind. a lingering phantom everywhere he goes and yet her presence is most heavy in a room she no longer sleeps in. vivienne wonders if—he was strong enough—he could wait for the sun to rise, the curtains drawn back, and the warm glow burning him into nothingness.
the thought feels like peace.
it feels kinder having to wait for the sun than be someone.
it’s routine—like always, vivienne never draws back the curtains as much as surrendering feels like self mercy. they remain in their place, never moved even when a slit of sunlight slices through the room, just across the strewn bed sheets.
vivienne curls into the carpet. it soaks up all the coldness of the concrete floor, the warmth just barely comfortable. he remembers being five, maybe six years old; in his mother’s bed, because he wanted to be with her more. he wanted to sleep in her bed, all scared of nothing.
(and for a moment, vivienne thinks that maybe, that was her doing.)
inside his veins is her. everything he ever is, is her. her warmth lives in him, vitae running and keeping him walking.
vivienne brings his knees to his chest, and he loses himself in cold bliss again.
hi look at this drawing my friend @toreadorcaretaker made of vivienne and his mum i started shaking and exploding and u should see ur favorite mother and daughter duo
What would madame peng do in the JW AU? Does she run a continental? 👀
im an extra bitch BUT madame peng is a high seat table holder ;) vivienne is her only kid, whom she’s training. he’s around 27 in this, significantly younger than in the vtm og world lollllll but yeah she’s a high table seat holder anddddddd a leader for the triad
Fresh new commission sheet with my main three used ! Please share your support by reblogging this because quite frankly the average artist shouldn’t be putting this much effort in a sheet 🫶
my ko-fi, for more information and as a quick directory. #🪐evren art is my art tag if you would like to see examples of my art !! :D
What would Vivienne do if somebody criticized his mother or even tried to fight her on his behalf? Would he be happy about it, or would he defend her?
this happened like twice already with the nos of the coterie finding out how. you know. how fucking horrible madame peng is and when vivienne was confronted about it, he made an effort to defend her
second time again, the other ventrue in the coterie—nate, told vivienne that maybe his mother was just using him as a sort of trophy to other elders and guess what? defended her again. and it actually ended up with a PHYSICAL FIGHT where the chiaki and the nos had to step in between them
ethical vampire trapped in an abusive relationship with the human who's agreed to be their bloodbag. "you're a monster. no one else will ever love you. you need me to survive. i could just abandon you, i'm actually doing you a favor here."
hello ^_^ please tell us a sad story about Tevy’s upbringing
tevy’s mom was a woman named kiera who had a long career as a prima ballerina, but due to a car accident when she was 24, she had to give up her ballet career. she ended up marrying to a wealthy man who worked as an engineer, and wasn’t around much, however, she was alright with that.
kiera then had a baby, which was tevy! her birth name is Juliet, which she grew to hate due to the fact she actually never really wanted to become a ballerina. while yes, she loved attention and stardom, she wanted a different path. maybe a singer, maybe a piano soloist but no, her mother forced her into ballet at an early age.
kiera basically rewrote her image onto her daughter, telling a young girl that if she wanted to make her proud, she’d have to endure years of rigorous training and torture.
funny thing is, kiera and her husband are actually quite tall people (5’8 and 5’11), however tev was put on a lot of pressure as a kid, and was even restricted to a fucked up diet which messed with her height
