Nanaki's Fanfiction, Fanart, Etc.

Failed Anatomy FTW (ALTERNATIVE TITLE: Violaf Hentai)

2008-11-26T04:53:58Z

WARNING!: THE FOLLOWING IMAGE CONTAINS HETEROSEXUAL ... UH... SEXUALITY.
BLAHBLAHBLAH... DON'T LOOK IF UNDER LEGAL AGE, KAY?
Pairing: Violet/Olaf (Violaf, you get the picture.)
Disclaimers: Both characters beling to Lemony Snicket/Daniel Handler (I'm so sorry if you stumble on this and it kills your retinas. I'll pay for the laser eye surgery that follows. Seriously.)

(Psst, it's down there.)
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V

Quasso Lemma (Violaf Fancomic)

2008-09-03T21:49:52Z

Eh, I know it's been what? Two, three years (more like four) since I mentioned the Violaf-based fancomic?
Well, it's here.
Page three is now in the works. Heh. XD

By the way, I know the images are piddly-small, so go [HERE] to read it.

Artwork Circa '08 Part 2

2008-05-29T16:41:38Z

Mkay, here's yet another ASoUE fanart.
"Dectective Dupin", from book 7.
Mrrr.

Violaf. :/

The End.

Midnight Snack: Oneshot (Kit/Truman)

2008-04-30T02:47:27Z

Story: Saltwater Taffy (A.K.A. Random Malfunction)
Pairing: Kit/Truman
Rating: M
Summary: Random, short one-shot.
Disclaimer: All the characters in this particular story belong to "Zellie". Not me.

Midnight Snack?

By: Nanaki Everblaze

'Dammit, what's he doing now?!' Kit thought as the bed shifted (very) slightly, and her husband slipped from under the covers and padded out the bedroom door.

Lifting her head a moment, she sighed and let it flop back again. He'd been squirming around all bloody night, and she'd had more than two hours to marvel at how a man who weighed little more than his own daughter could so easily disturb his wife's sleep. Rolling over, she felt vaguely relieved that at least now she could get some proper rest.

The sound of kitchen cupboards creaking open and snapping shut again nudged at her eardrums and her eyes snapped open again. Sitting up, she wrenched the covers back, and tromped out the door and down the stairs.

"What are you doing?!" she hissed upon entering the kitchen, to find Truman, her husband, standing at the counter clearly about to drop a large handful of chopped fruit into the blender. One hand on the bowl, the other pushing a piece of sliced apple into his mouth, all with an expression of having his hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Uh... smoothie?" he asked, holding up the fruit bowl and swallowing the apple, giving her a feeble grin.

Kit crossed her arms, glaring at him in pure irritation. Truman withdrew the bowl, clearly rather disappointed.

"Do you have to be so loud? It's nearly midnight."

He shrugged disarmingly before turning back to the blender. Frowning, Kit stepped forwards.

"You alright? You seem kinda tense."

Truman looked up, giving her a shrug. "Nah, I'm alright."

Kit frowned. "You sure?"

He nodded, and a grin suddenly flickering on his face.

"Want some?" he asked, his eyes glittering.

Kit stared for a moment before grinning back, recognizing the look he gave her. "As long as you're making it."

He lifted his hands to her shoulders, and pushed her back, pressing her down against the counter. Kit squirmed as her back came into contact with the cold countertop, and she tried to prevent a shiver.

Reaching down, he caught the hem of her top and pulled it up, not taking it off entirely, but enough to expose her breasts. He grabbed one, squeezing it gently in his hand for a moment before ducking his head and pulling her nipple into his mouth, sucking on it and teasing the little nub with his tongue for a few minutes while his hand slid slowly down her side.

His fingers brushed the hem of her underwear before he thumbed it down and pressed his hand firmly against the small, soft mound of little golden curls between her thighs. Running his fingers up and down, feeling her moisture, he let out a little shudder of his own before deciding that he'd waited long enough. Reaching down again, he pushed down his boxers, pulled his nightshirt up a bit so it wouldn't get in the way, and grasped her legs, prying them apart and rubbing himself against her. Then, he shifted, leaning forwards and resting all the weight (if you could call it that) onto his arms for leverage, and shoved himself inside.

Kit gasped under him, and gave a quivering little moan, before he pressed a hand to her mouth to silence her. Looking up at him for a moment, she nodded and he began to move again, shifting his weight from his shoulders to his toes still pressed against the linoleum floor, letting the slow rocking of his hips slowly gather in speed until --

Kit let out a little cry as she grabbed him and flipped him over, onto his back. Rocking her hips into him, she quickly took over and sped up the pace until they reached an almost unbearable level, and Truman was merely holding on for dear life.

'Oh, God... Oh God...!' gasped through dry lips as they both came, shuddering and gasping and trying desperately to keep one another quiet so they didn't wake up the house's other occupant.

Neither of them noticed the figure now sneaking away from the kitchen window, video camera in hand.

Artwork Circa '08

2008-04-26T03:48:29Z

Just like the title says.

Mkay, this is just the title page of my Conventus doujinshi. The rest can be found [HERE].

Mkay, this is my updated Violaf pic. I'm rather happy with it... Well... sorta, anyway...
...

I'm probably going to revamp this one soon... mrr...

A little picture of my friend Zellie's Random Malfunction character, Truman. Who I find very sexy.
To bad he's married...

Artwork Circa '06

2008-04-26T03:38:21Z

Here's some really old artwork, hidden due to male nudity. Hurrah.

And Fernlaf. OMG YAOI!!!!11!1!1!11!one!1!1eleven!1!
-_____-;

Dewlaf. For teh lulz. And teh amusement of teh artist.

The last three are down there for your safety. And sanity. They contain Count Olaf nudity. Don't look if images of creepy old naked men freak you out.
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Shirtless Olaf. If this freaks you out, LEAVE NAO. PLZ.
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Here's some (GODAWFULLY OLD) Violaf. With "Nothing Seen" nudity. That's not to be said about the last one, though...
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Omg. He's nekkid. Like I said he'd be. :P

Matches and Darts: Chapter Four (Violet/Olaf)

2008-04-26T01:35:51Z

Matches And Darts:

A Violaf Story

By: Nanaki Everblaze

}=+-Chapter Four: Mirror, Mirror-+={

When Olaf woke up the next day, his brain throbbed as though someone had placed a bag of rocks over his head, spun him around a few times, then dumped him onto his mattress. Groaning in pain, he sat up miserably and clutched his temples, distinctly agitated by the sunlight.

Even more agitated by the fact that someone had scribbled on his mirror in what looked like eyeliner. Sighing, he tottered to his feet, shuffling towards his dresser as he tried to read the illegible scrawl.

'Porriage? Are we out of oatmeal?' he thought blandly, stumbling down the stairs.

Five minutes later and he was back, contemplating the word once more.

'Parriage? Unless... if I tilt my head this way...'

"Marriage," he said, before grunting and turning away, not really registering immediately what the inclination was to write the word in the first place.

That is, until he noticed he'd added more notes to the small pile of papers on the bedside table. Pausing to take a peek, his eyes were immediately drawn to a casting sheet.

The Marvelous Marriage!

Starring: Count Olaf and Violet Baudelaire

Olaf stared at this for a full five minutes before finally realizing the full purpose this plan would fulfill.

Flopping down onto the floor, he scrabbled desperately at something under his mattress. He froze for a moment as something crawled over his hand then resumed as the fat spider ambled away across the floor, heading agitatedly for a safe corner.

Finally pulling out a large chunk of charcoal, he sat down and began to write.

{([$])}

He was a good way into the script when the phone rang downstairs. After trying desperately to ignore it, and hoping the orphans would answer it for him, he finally sighed and, defeated, he tromped down the stairs.

"What?" he grunted agitatedly into the reciever.

"Ah! Count Olaf? It's Mr. Poe, from the bank."

"Yes? What do you want?"

"Oh," here Olaf heard distinct awkwardness from the man. "I'm sorry to bother you sir, it's just... the children were here earlier and... I was wondering if everything was alright."

"They WHAT?!" Olaf spat.

"It's alright though. I'm sure, since you're there, you can put them at ease. Good day."

Olaf stared at the reciever in his hand for a long moment before slowly hanging up the phone.

'So, those brats need to feel at ease? Part of the family?' he smirked, his eyes glazed as he thought of things to come. 'Well, why don't we have a... little celebration in their honour.'

-|-:-|-

So crappy and short, but here nonetheless. HURRAH!

Careening through clusterfucks of shit EVERYWHERE;

Nanaki Everblaze

Matches and Darts: Chapter Three (Violet/Olaf)

2008-04-26T01:30:12Z

Story: Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events
Pairing: Violet/Olaf
Rating: PG13 (Rated M in later chapters...)
Summary: Just a little story taking place at the Bad Beginning. Olaf's POV (from third person, WTF?)
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me...

Matches And Darts:
A Violaf Story

By: Nanaki Everblaze

}=+-Chapter Three: Self-Torment-+={

Later that evening, however, he was feeling much less pity towards the children. How dare they?! He’d given them space in his home, food, and a room of their own. And that was how they repaid him?!

He stomped into the house, his teeth clenched and his demeanor darkened.

He found them in the kitchen, and as he entered the room his eyes settled upon Violet. Her hair was tied back, and her big, beautiful eyes were staring at him nervously. He swallowed, and for a moment his angry temperament melted a bit, but it didn’t last.

“We’ve made pasta... Pasta puttanesca...”

“What? No roast beef?” he blinked.

“You didn’t tell us you wanted roast beef,” Violet murmured, looking down at the ground.

’Didn’t I?’ “Enough nonsense. I demand that you serve roast beef to myself and my guests.”

“We didn’t make roast beef, we made puttanesca sauce...” Violet whimpered.

“No, no, no!” Sunny screamed from the floor, nearly scaring the shit out of him, and he jumped.

Letting out a roar that made his throat burn, he snatched up the littlest Baudelaire and held her up.

Klaus cried out and jumped up to try and free Sunny from Olaf’s grasp, and the count glared down at him. Suddenly, a horrible idea slid into his brain; Why not nettle the little buggers a bit?

He lifted the arm holding Sunny up even higher, and was about to drop her, only a few inches, when there were shouts from the other room. He gave a disgruntled sigh, and watched as his theater troupe entered the room.

“Olaf, what are you doing?” asked Flo.

“Just... er...” ’Come on, think! I haven’t killed that many brain cells!’ “Deciplining these orphans! I asked them to make us some dinner, and all they have made is some disgusting sauce.”

There were several long seconds during which Olaf held his breath, and his troupe seemed to mull over his response.

“You can’t go easy on children,” said Flacutono finally. “They must be taught to obey their elders.”

Olaf nodded and placed Sunny back onto the floor. “I know what you mean. But they’re so awful I can scarcely stand to touch them.”

’Except for Violet... I’d be delighted with a chance to touch her.’

“Well, we might as well eat their dinner, even though it is all wrong. Come on, my friends.”

Turning, the count strode out of the kitchen in the most cocky and arrogant manner he could muster (not that it was particularly difficult) and ushered everyone into the dining room.

Olaf strode back down the hallway just after everyone had seated themselves and was about to run downstairs and grab some wine when he heard voices from the kitchen.

“You’re a pretty one,” said Flacutono from inside the room, and Olaf quickly scrambled to the door and pushed it open just a little, so he could see what was going on.

Flacutono was standing in front of the children, his long black robe like a waterfall of ink around him and his hands were stroking Violet’s face.

“I wouldn’t anger Count Olaf, if I were you, or he might wreck that pretty little face of yours.”

Violet shuddered, and Olaf had to grit his teeth and dive for the nearest closet to avoid being spotted.

’Say that to my girl, will you?!’ he thought, his face contorted into a silent snarl as he watched Flacutono walk down the hallway.

He was still thinking other such jealous and spiteful thoughts when he entered the dining room several minutes later. He sat and the head of the table, and glowered threateningly at his troupe.

{([$])}

Several hours later, Olaf and his friends prepared themselves to leave the house to go to their performance. As they strode through the kitchen, Olaf paused and, swaying on the spot, snapped at the children that they were to clean up and go to their “beds.” That was where the trouble started.

“You mean our bed!” cried Klaus, as Sunny and Violet looked on helplessly.

Olaf’s troupe stopped to watch, and the count gritted his teeth. “If you want another bed, you may go into town tomorrow and purchase one.”

“You know perfectly well we haven’t any money!” spat back the bookworm.

“Of course you do,” Olaf cried. “You’re the inheritors of an enormous fortune!”

“That money isn’t to be used until Violet is of age!” Klaus screamed in rage.

Olaf’s already stretching patience snapped. Before he could stop himself, he raised his hand and swung it viciously across the bookworm’s face.

Klaus toppled to the ground from the force of the blow, and Olaf whirled around and was about to stomp out of the house when he caught sight of Violet. Her eyes were clouded in fear and anger, and her face was as white as...

’A wedding dress,’ he thought suddenly. ’Like the one Esme wore the day she was going to be married...’

Suddenly, he could just see Violet in the same elegant dress, her hair and eyes dazzlingly shiny and bright, clutching a boquet of red... no... white roses.

Olaf shuddered and swiftly berated himself mentally for his lack of mental control.

’First I see her nude, now I see her in a bloody wedding dress?! What the hell?!’

Yet there was something strangely alluring about the thought. Sighing, he left the house with his friends to try and sort it out.

-|-:-|-

Yeah... Needless to say I’m pissed drunk this morning... I’m feeling sorta down, though. In three months my trailer’s gonna be taken away unless I can pay my taxes, and my mum’s being sued by Sears for reasons currently unbeknownst to me.

I fear the worst.

So, what do I do during this time of hardship? I update Matches and Darts! Well, I hope you enjoy.

Oh, and I have a question; If Olaf is pissed drunk while acting, how many times has he fallen off the stage? That might be something to tally someday...

And I've finished drawing nude Ollie. Now I just gotta fix my faggotting scanner...

Hucking bricks at my Math Teacher’s head;

Nanaki Everblaze

Matches and Darts: Chapter Two (Violet/Olaf)

2008-04-26T01:23:33Z

Story: Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events
Pairing: Violet/Olaf
Rating: PG13 (To be M in later chapters...)
Summary: Just a little story taking place at the Bad Beginning. Olaf's POV (from third person, WTF?)
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me...

Matches And Darts:
A Violaf Story

By: Nanaki Everblaze

}=+-Chapter Two: Self-Torment-+={

Count Olaf paced the floor of his tower room, his silver eyes darting around as he tried to shake off that horrible –yet horribly arousing—image.

“What the fuck?!” he roared and a bat took wing overhead, chirping its indignation. He slammed his fist against a nearby wall, ignoring the pain that spiked into his knuckles upon impact with the stone.

It wasn’t right. Couldn’t be right.

’I mean, we’re related, for hell’s sake,’ he thought furiously. ’I mean, she’s only fourteen!’

‘But we’re not that closely related...’ another part of his mind said maliciously; probably the one that had sent him the image to begin with...

‘Well, unless you also count the fact that I’ve adopted the girl, too. So I’m pretty much her... Violet’s... father.’

‘Violet...’ the other voice rolled the name around for a moment. ’What a lovely name...’

‘Shut up!’

Sighing, he decided to give up on thinking altogether for the time being.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket, sliding it off his shoulders and tossing it to the floor. The shirt underneath disappeared in a similarly identical manner, and he stood before his mirror.

Small silver hairs peppered his pale chest, looking almost black in the dim light. A thin line of similar hairs started an inch or so below his belly-button before disappearing below the fabric of his striped trousers. The line was almost geometrically perfect, except for a pale pink scar which drew it way along from the curve of his left hip and across the line, finally ending as it curled down his right thigh.

The gash had been caused by someone who he’d cared for and trusted impeccably. Someone who’d stolen ever little bit of love and affection he’d been able to salvage after his parent’s murder.

Undoubtedly, he’d have to execute more caution this time.

{([$])}

Over the next few days, Olaf began to vacate the house as often as possible to avoid coming in contact with the eldest orphan. Not that it really made any difference; he’d still come into contact with her anyway, and every time he did it was all he could do not to pin her against a wall and make love to her right there, no matter who was nearby.

And so he took to driving about. Or, in rare cases, he stayed in his tower.

At least, until one morning... (*evil grin*)

He’d left the brats his usual note, and had wandered upstairs in hopes of “drinking” (A/N: Sorry for the pun...) up a way to get the Baudelaire fortune... When he realized he’d forgotten to bring with him some wine. Cursing, he strode downstairs and was about to open the door to the kitchen when he heard voices.

“I hate it here Violet! I hate this house, I hate our room, I hate having to do all these chores, and I HATE Count Olaf!"

The count frowned deeply and felt a tiny pinch of hurt at this, recognizing the voice of the second child, Klaus. But years of disappointment, misery, and poverty shoved the minor feeling aside.

"I hate it too," he heard Violet reply. "But we have to keep our chin up."

Olaf turned away. He strode back upstairs, and vanished into the darkness.

-|-:-|-

Er... I had too much fun describing Olaf’s anatomy, I think... Please tell me that’s normal...

Anyway, I’ve been really tired lately... And my scanner’s being a fucktard. ‘Tis pissing me off...

Sorry for the freakishly short chapter, but I'm feeling lazy and tired. I haven't slept in what is now three days.

Poking people with breadsticks;

Nanaki Everblaze

Matches and Darts: Chapter One (Violet/Olaf)

2008-04-26T01:17:01Z

Count Olaf reached the bottom of the stairs, and quickly checked himself in the mirror. He straightened his black bow-tie (A/N: Yes, the magically appearing and disappearing bowtie of DOOM!!! ... Yeah...), and raked a long, boney hand through his graying hair, waiting.

A nervous, hesitant knock on the door made him snap to attention, and he yanked it open.

On the doorstep stood three children; clearly the Baudelaire orphans. There was a young boy (was it Klaus or Klaws? He hadn’t been able to read the handwriting on the adoption papers he’d been given...) with large round glasses and dark brown hair. In his arms was an infant (Sunny?) with four, rather alarming, sharp teeth. And standing next to them was... (A/N: Insert romantic music here...)

One of the most beautiful young girls he’d ever seen. She was about fourteen or fifteen, but she looked almost on the brink of crossing over from childhood to maturity. Her dark brown —almost black-- hair fell in shimmering turrets around her shoulders, and her full lips reminded him of crushed rose pedals. But it was her eyes that really caught his attention.

They seemed to start off brown, but then they faded off into a deep, sea green before being swallowed up by her pupils.

Olaf stared at her for a moment, before he was finally able to drag himself from his reviere.

“Hello, hello, hello,” he muttered, as sudden embarrassment took hold and shook some sense back into him.

“Wipe your feet, so no mud gets indoors,” he added, then realized how stupid that must sound, considering his current living conditions.

The girl glanced at her brother, and stepped inside. Olaf tried desperately to remember her name, but she brushed past him and he had to bite back a shiver.

“This room could use a little work,” said a voice, and the Count turned back to the door to see Mr. Poe, the banker he’d spoken to over the phone yesterday.

“I know my humble home isn’t a fancy as the Baudelaire mansion,” Olaf growled through his clenched teeth, “but perhaps with a bit of your money,” here he gave the children the barest glance. “We could fix it up a bit nicer.”

At this, Mr. Poe began to cough. For several long minutes he hacked into his hankerchief, and Olaf was momentarily worried he was going to choke. Just as he started praying violently in his mind that he wouldn’t have to use CPR, however, the coughing fit died away.

“The Baudelaire fortune will not be used for such matters. In fact, it will not be used at all. At least, until Violet comes of age.”

Anger welled within Olaf, and it was all he could do not to lash out and strike the stupid banker over the head.

“Very well,” he muttered, shrugging in what he hoped was an indifferent manner. “Thank you for bringing them here, Mr. Poe.”

“You’re welcome,” said Mr. Poe, smiling obliviously. “Now, I must be off. I do hope you’ll enjoy it here, Baudelaires. If you need me, you can always contact me at the bank.”

“But we don’t even know where the bank is,” Klaus said. Olaf could hear the quiver in his voice.

“I have a map of the city,” Olaf muttered hurriedly. “Goodbye, Mr. Poe.” With that, he shut the door and let out a sigh.

Turning around, he looked over at the children, and saw them staring at the ground.

“Er... Follow me,” he said, and led them up the stairs.

As he lead them down the hall, he tried to remember which room he’d prepared for the children, or even if he’d prepared anything at all. There was a door that was ajar at the end of the hallway, and when the count peered in he saw that, via the refrigerator-box-turned-closet and the large pile of rocks, this was it.

'Damn,' he thought. 'Never let a drunk man decorate...'

“It’s... erm... lovely,” Violet said.

Olaf stared in disbelief. 'Bullshit!'

“If you say so...” he murmured.

“We’ll take it from here,” Violet said, and ushered her siblings inside. As she turned to close the door, her eyes connected momentarily with his, and he gasped.

He felt as though an ice cube had been dropped down the back of his shirt, and he shivered as a sudden vision flashed in his mind.

They were naked; he was lying atop her, his right hand caressing her face, his left at her rear, pulling her against him as he sank himself deep into her hot, moist fle--

The door clicked shut, and Olaf snapped from his reverie. Shock and abhorrence took over, and he turned and fled to his tower.

-|-:-|-

Ha, HA... Yeah. So here is where all the Violafness started. And… yeah. I might want to warn you right now that I was reading a dictionary (a really old one, too) while typing this up, so I’m feeling like being overly smart today.

Oh, and about the whole Mr. Poe and the CPR thing; if you see any Polaf or weird shit like that, please tell me so I can hunt the person down and demand to melt their brain. If they refuse I’ll melt it anyway...

Putting the curl in Olaf’s unibrow;

Nanaki Everblaze

Matches and Darts: Prologue (Violet/Olaf)

2008-04-26T00:53:53Z

Story: Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events
Pairing: Violet/Olaf
Rating: PG13 (Soon to be M)
Summary: Just a little story taking place at the Bad Beginning. Olaf's POV (from third person, WTF?)
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me...

Matches And Darts:  A Violaf Story  
By: Nanaki Everblaze  

}=+-Prologue-+={

Pale morning light tumbled through a cracked window onto a long, lean form lying helter-skelter on a dingy mattress. With his legs entwined in the filthy sheets and his arms folded comfortably beneath him, Count Olaf snored sleepily into his pillow.

As the sun rose higher, he stirred and rolled over, receiving a faceful of light. His eyes stuttered open, and he groaned as he felt the sudden brightness hit his retinas.

Shielding his eyes, he slowly stood up and made his way to the window. Clumsily, he reached it and yanked down the worn shade. His head throbbed and he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to rid himself of the curse all alchoholics must eventually endure; hangover.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall beside the window, his hands pressed over his eyes. Lowering them again, he looked around and spotted some half-empty wine bottles on the floor, and wondered dimly why he'd gotten pissed-drunk in the first place.

'Celebrating,' he thought. 'Celebrating WHAT though?'

He struggled with his mind, but his brain didn't seem to want to over-work itself this morning. Suddenly, he remembered something he'd said the night before;

'"With their parents gone, those stupid brats will be mine! And their fortune!"'

Which brats, though? He'd seen so many over the years. Straining to unravel his thoughts was starting to give him a headache...

'B... it started with a B... Come on, Olaf... Think... Bert... Berty? No... Bertrand...'

"Baudelaire," he hissed as realization seemed to slap him across the face.

Mentally, he kicked himself for forgetting it. The Baudelaires were dead! Well... The parents, anyway... but soon their brood will be gone, too...

Olaf grinned and he caught sight of himself in a nearby mirror; the very image of everything threatening and predatory.

The distant sound of a car rumbling up the cobblestone street alerted him, and he turned back to the window. Shielding his eyes once more, he watched as a small black car pulled up next to the pavement, and watched as three young children stepped out. He squinted, trying to see their faces, but from this angle and distance he could just barely see their tiny forms from his tower room.

The ghost of a smile played across his lips, and he turned away.

Might as well meet his new "wards." 

-|-:-|-

Yeah... sorry for the rather dull-ass prologue, but I felt I had to write something before the Baudelaires showed up. So please don't kill me out of severe lack of interest; the next chapter will be better.
Drinking wine bottle-neck down;
Nanaki Everblaze

Fandom Listing

2008-04-26T00:14:36Z

Mkay, here's just a little list of some things to expect here... Don't request anything outside this, 'cause I probably won't write it.

ASoUE
Violet/Olaf
Fernald/Olaf
Esme/Olaf
Madame Lulu/Olaf
Kit/Olaf
(I'm a Count Olaf fangirl, tragically.)

Beetlejuice
Beetlejuice/Lydia

Batman
Joker/Batman
Joker/Harley
Harley/Ivy

Doctor Who
Doctor/Rose

Phantom Of The Opera
Erik/Christine

Hellsing
Alucard/Integra
Walter/Seras

Sweeney Todd
Sweeney/Lovett
Joannah/Turpin

Random Malfunction
Kit/Truman
Steven/Truman