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cvlutos · 1 year
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“The First Vessels”
| Repost: 02.16.23 | 1.2 K | Rated Mature |
Yandere!Various X GN!Reader [Aether/Lumine, Kaeya, Amber, Lisa]
| Yandere | Cult AU | Obsession | Mention of Self harm [Not the Reader] | Sexual Suggestions | Genshin Impact | Self-Aware Genshin | Proceed with Caution, Beloved. |
T.Manor.Notes: Repost from my old blog.
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They are the first to become your vessels.
The first to fight with you.
The first to know of you.
It’s something they brag and hold in high regard. Even if you don’t use them as a vessel anymore, they still hold the title of being first. Something that not even the Archons can deny. They let the others know how much they did for you; how much they care for you and you, them.
It’s something they brag and hold in high regard. Even if you don’t use them as a vessel anymore, they still hold the title of being first. Something that not even the Archons can deny. They let the others know how much they did for you; how much they care for you and you, them.
It’s something they brag and hold in high regard. Even if you don’t use them as a vessel anymore, they still hold the title of being first. Something that not even the Archons can deny. They let the others know how much they did for you; how much they care for you and you, them.
It’s something they brag and hold in high regard. Even if you don’t use them as a vessel anymore, they still hold the title of being first. Something that not even the Archons can deny. They let the others know how much they did for you; how much they care for you and you, them.
It’s something they brag and hold in high regard. Even if you don’t use them as a vessel anymore, they still hold the title of being first. Something that not even the Archons can deny. They let the others know how much they did for you; how much they care for you and you, them.
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The twin you chose will silently brag, confident that they’re the main vessel that, no matter what, they are a vessel you will always see and use when the time is right. It makes them happy, euphoric even. They put you above all else, because you are worth more than anything else. They view you as kind and understanding, for you are the only one to truly provide aid, even if it is limited. They know you’d travel with them to the ends of Teyvat to find their twin.
Located deep within the teapot was a room that only they could enter, a room where they, with the help of a certain alchemist, were able to form your body. Even if it isn’t completely stable, nor usable, to a certain extent. Your body couldn’t walk, but eating and talking was enough to satisfy the twins’ needs. The twin rests their head against your thighs, their hands squeezing at the soft flesh, staring at you with pure adoration. You run your fingers through their hair, and they talked about their journeys and travels, even if you know it all, had seen it all arise—you let them speak.
“Anything. My God, I’d do anything.”
“You’re so good to me.” Your voice comes out as a whisper as you grow tired, your spirit and mind slipping back into the twin’s body, the form made for you falls limp into their arms. They hold on to your fragile form, their lips brushing against that of your body.
They love you, the true God of Teyvat.
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Amber can’t help but stay close to your side. The mere mention of your name in Mondstadt has her running to where you are. As you fight enemies, you might just catch a glimpse of an arrow brimming with flames, setting off attacks, before you could even pull out your sword. She is devoted; she is utterly and completely yours.
Feeling you within her, your thoughts become hers and her actions becoming yours. She fights with all she has, a sigh of relief leaving her mouth. She finds strength in your words as she finds courage in the wind. She’d do anything to please you, even if that meant fighting Stormterror alone. She’d do it without a second thought. Her hands run over her covered arms, shuddering at the feeling. It isn’t you, but she feels you. Happily allowing you to use her, even in the moments when she experiences death, and wakes up beside a statue as if nothing took place. As you worry or fret over her.
“Please. Forgive me! Let me try again!”
“Alright.” She is desperate, for she knows the wrath of a God. They are cruel, for when the Anemo Archon is upset, the winds blow and trees howl, and renders her unable to ride the winds. Yet you, your anger, is never that great nor frightening, and you indulge her in her delusions.
She is obsessed with you, obsessed with the idea of you.
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Kaeya is a flirt till the end, but will not hide the feeling of wanting to be wanted. He is honest, but at the same time, he denies such emotions. He easily laughs at the Archons, admitting that he is better than them, far more worthy than them. Far more needed and desired. His sword is tight in his hand, as he defeats his enemies within your name. The drink light in his grip as he drinks to you, staring at you through the traveler’s eyes.
A groan leaves his lips, sinking further into the plush blankets of your bed, a bed that only the traveler sleeps in. A bed in which your scent, your smell transcends that of reality and radiates off the blankets. He’d at the worst get scolded by the twin, but for now, it doesn’t matter. Your smell is intoxicating, and he makes him weak. Feeling his hips rut into the mattress, shoving his nose deeper into the sheets. He loves, love, love, love, loves you. His hands gripped the thick blankets, a muffled groan leaving his lips. His eye patch discarded to the side. Maybe one day, shivers ran down his spine, rubbing himself against the mattress. If he was so lucky, you’d walk in. Walk in on him, his hips sputtered to a stop, a groan leaving his lips, and maybe even join him.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” His voice is sweet as the Traveler returns, clearly tired from the day’s venture. Watching you offer him a smile, before plopping face forward into the bed, you can’t tell, but the twin can. They give him a knowing look, but say nothing.
The bed smells like him.
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Lisa would consider herself the calmest of the group, and the most to treat you as an average human. Ignoring the glares sent her away when she calls your name and not that of your title. Now don’t mistake her for being the least loyal. She worships you just as much as the others. Wiping out those who whispers out dreadful things about you, sharing stories and tales of you whenever it feels right to. She loves you.
Her fingers drummed against the book, watching you read, trying to gather information of creatures. Creatures abnormal to that of Mondstadt and from across the sea in Inazuma. She pretends as if she isn’t paying attention, simply indulging herself in the important novels, a pleasant smile on her face. Every time you ask of what she’s reading, she simply shrugs, saying it’s boring. Her fingers fiddling with the edges of her skirt, before sliding it upwards. Her expression neutral, she lets nothing slip as she imagines you, from mere pictures that were painted. Imagines it’s you and her in the smutty erotic novels she reads, you and her closer than ever. Trading her fingers with yours, she bites her lips.
“Is the book good?”
You ask again and her gaze flickers to you. Before looking at the pages. She lets out an airy hum and a small chuckle. She closes the book with one hand, staring at you again. “It could be better. Though--” She pauses, pressing her legs together, as she slides her wet hand through her thigh, drying them off slightly and brings them to her lips, as if she was merely thinking.
“It was an enjoyable read.”
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They are the first to become your vessels.
The first to fight with you.
The first to know of you.
It’s something they brag and hold in high regard. It isn’t something that the archons could take away. They never would attempt, lest it displease you. Though one day, the twins vow, locking the door to the room where your body is hidden.
No one is worthy enough to see that of your true form, not in person.
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ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.
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cvlutos · 1 year
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“My Wingless Dove”
| Repost: 02.19.2023 | 1.2K | Mature Audiences |
Yandere!Diasomnia X GN!Reader [TWST: VAMPIRE AU]
Dark Content | Characters 18+ | Stalking | Kidnapping | Yandere | Blood | Forced Feeding | Implied Abuse/Violence | Etc | Proceed with Caution, Dearest.
Book.Summary: Dont walk into abandoned homes, even if the weather is bad, for there may be vampires living there that just love humans.
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You’re pretty.
You’re pretty.
So pretty that it worries us to death when you come barreling into our home, fumbling through the door with heaving breaths, pounding heart, and rushing veins, so loud and so full of life. You kick the door closed desperately, blindly throwing yourself deep into the dark and what you assume—abandoned—home.
You’re far too pretty to live in such fear.
You make a home for yourself, using the old dusty library as yours, what we wish would be your forever home. Using broken floorboards as wood. Though you aren’t fully aware of our presence, that’s alright. You don’t need to worry about the peering, deep reddish-magenta glowing eyes that watch you from afar. Eyes that you swear you see as you prepare your dinner. Or as you sleep, gentle touches of flesh brush against the apple of your cheeks, or the exposed chest of your collarbone.
Don’t worry about the glaring eyes that watch you from afar as you search the forest for your food, silently protecting you. Do not worry when you see green eyes and that of a tall silhouette watching you from the far corners, only for you to blink and it’s gone. You’re pretty. They only want to admire you.
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The deep red eyes are first to greet you.
First to catch your attention. First to frighten you. Even if he doesn’t mean to., you’re just too cute, such a sweet, defenseless person, living amongst four beings that are far stronger, faster, hungrier. Far more than you could ever be. You’re fascinating and he lets you know of his existence. He wants you to know he’s around, devoted to you, as he is the prince.
You have dreams of a soft, monotone voice.
Hearing him whisper to you to sleep well, to have pleasant dreams. He is the one you should trust most, the one who understands you the most. Even though mortality is so from him. That’s alright, you are simply a glimpse of what he once was, and he adores you for that. You represent that part of him that was once human.
The glare from afar still scorns you.
He makes you feel unwanted, unneeded, foreign—an intruder. Well, in a way, you are. You stumble into their home, into the home of the prince, and make it your little hovel. He’s annoyed, disgusted, for you represent the side of him that will always be human. That will never change. He hates that about you, yet he can’t find it in his unbeating heart to allow any harm to come to you. Maybe he isn’t as detached from humanity as he claims.
The tall silhouette that scares you still.
He wishes you didn’t fear him. He wishes you’d simply waltz into his arms, sway gently against him and with him. He craves for you to step into the shadow to see him and acknowledge him for being safe, to see that he wouldn't harm you. He cares for you as a lover would. Even if you don’t love him yet, you will. Eventually, you will. As all things take time and you, darling, will have all the time in the world.
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“If I could simply stop time in this moment—without having to change not a single part of you—I truly wish I could.”
His words are merely wind to air as you sleep, blissful and unaware. You are as if the sun had been given for him to hold and cherish, a blessing, a gift. So strong, yet so destructive. So painful for he knows if he touches you, he melts. Burns. He’s alright with that.
You had in passing, talking to the ancient pictures on the walls of your soon departure. Something that Malleus can't bear to stand. You can’t go free of them. Of him. Not now. Nor ever. For he knows like a flower that only blooms once within its lifetime, would soon disappear. He refuses. You will be there for his lifetime, all his lifetimes. He wants nothing more.
“My Prince... what is it you desire?”
You.
The answer is you.
You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You.
It will always be you.
You spilled your blood today as you explored the vast forests. Bring them each nearly to their knees, salivating desperately. Like a flavor that they knew not of, yet still yearned for centuries. Surely, you’d indulge them. Silver gently lowers your form onto the massive bed, treating you so delicately, like glass.
You should feel so loved. So wanted. Even when you awaken and you thrash against Sebek’s tight embrace, cursing him—begging him to release you, pleading with him to let you go. As Lilia forces your mouth open to feed you, as you kick and scream.
You will come to understand our love.
As Silver nearly suffocated you in his chest, rocking you slowly as Malleus reads fairytale stories to you.
You’ll get over how cruel I am. As I read, you tales of freedom, or escape, of adventures, that you could never go on.
“You’ll understand why I did what I did, my little wingless dove.”
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ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.
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cvlutos · 1 year
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“God of Teyvat”
| Repost: 02.15.23 | 0.9K | Rated Mature |
Genshin!Various X GN!Reader
| Characters 18+ | Yandere | Cult AU | Obsession | Mention of Self harm [Not the Reader] | Sexual Suggestions | Genshin Impact | Self-Aware Genshin | Proceed with Caution, Beloved. |
T.Manor.Notes: Repost from my old blog, this was first posted in like 2021 so it’s old as hell.
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They are your vessel.
The twins that came from a different world. They are how you see the new plane in which you inhabit. Their eyes—yours. Their breath belongs to you. They are how you exist until you gain a body of your own. No one knows of your arrival but them. For the twin is selfish and wants you only to themself, for they view themself as the only one worthy. To be the body that you control, to feel you within them.
To be one with you.
To be one with you.
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Barbatos is the first to know. The first to feel the wind shift and wrap around him, drawing him to you, to the twin you chose as your vessel. He is jealous. For he has sung your praises for so long, for he has sent your tales across all of Teyvat. For he is your most devoted. Yet you chose another over him.
It will take time for Venti to subdue his jealousy, but he will remain cheerful. Staring at you through the eyes of the Traveler. For he will become the most suitable host, if only for a mere moment, to gratify you. Venti is devoted. He will destroy Mondstadt if it meant that only for a mere second, he is able to see your form. Your true form, and to witness a fraction of your power. The idea makes him weak and hot, and though he speaks kind words to the traveler, they are meant for your ears. He will make sure you hear him, that you understand the lengths he’ll go to make you love him.
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Morax is the second. He learns of your arrival the moment you step into Liyue and he is angry. The earth bends and sways beneath his feet as he glares through the eyes of the Traveler’s, into yours. He has existed since the beginning; he was watched friends and lovers fall to their demise, all under your wish, under your control and desire. He will not rejoice in your return, not now, not yet.
He wants to rid of your existence. To end you, to force you back into your slumber, but he cannot. For he hates you, but not even his spear will harm a single hair upon your head, no matter the body you use. He will ignore your existence, forget that you are above him, until you appear everywhere, as if mocking him. Soon he will bend and break, before kneeling before you. He will apologize and praise you, but still, his anger has not been quelled. It will take time, but soon he will love you.
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The Raiden Shogun is the third. She learns of you the moment you step into the Plane of Euthymia for the second time, within the body of the Traveler. She will fight, blinded in sadness, until you win and she is defeated. She will cry and cling to you, clinging onto the Traveler, with wide eyes. She will beg for forgiveness, for you have learned of everything of Inazuma and her carelessness.
She will claw out her own eyes, peel at her skin, if it meant you revealed yourself. She feels the most shame and willing to toss everything aside, if it meant you’ll be happy. She loves you, adores you. Will wipe everything off of your path, give you anything to make your journey easier. She will ramble about your grace and if you want her gone, she will no longer to exist.
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“Welcome.”
They all kneel to the Traveler, to you. Who sits cross-legged, a smile across their lips. Your first vessel, a name the Traveler has taken upon themself, to show their own superiority. Venti, Zhongli, and Ei, all eager to appease you, adoring your bedroom with the finest of materials, the freshest of food, and the highest quality of products.
Venti feels weak, his face flushed. He wants nothing more than to touch you. He nudges his nose against the boot of the twin, staring into your eyes. His nails dig into the wooden floor. He can feel your presence as you stare down at him. His hips buckle blindly, a soft whine leaving his lips as he crashes to the ground. Merely a look sent him over the edge and into the pleasure of release.
Ei begs to be next. Her hands grabbed at the leg of your chair, inching closer with wide-pleading eyes. Resting her head against the twin’s thigh, squeezing her eyes close, feeling the energy of you radiate off and through her body, like electricity. A muffled whine leaves her throat, her body twitching, her chest heaving as she clung to the traveler’s clothing, drool rolling down the side of her lips. Your aura alone sending her into a frenzy as she came.
Zhongli kneeled as the other archons fell weakly to your knees. The twin says something to him, but all he can hear is your voice. “Zhongli.” As if he was lit on fire, his body burned. He was not as strong as he would like to believe, a low groan leaving his mouth. He looks up at the traveler, a scowl on his lips, while his body tense. He hated you so much. How could such a God, a God without a form of their own, control him to such lengths?
All weak to the power of the true rule of Teyvat. One that stood above and used those with visions as their vessel. One should count that alone as a blessing to come true.
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cvlutos · 1 year
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"DELIVER" Pt.One
✦ | 03.27.23 |
✦ | TWST!VARIOUS X GN!READER | TWST: MAFIA AU
✦ | Violence | Sexual Themes | Smoking | Murder | Gore(?) | Blood | Tread carefully, my love.
✦ | Synopsis: | You deliver letters all across the eight districts and Ramshackles. A quite fulfilling job, until one day you and your neighbor have a horrible mix up. He's involved in something he shouldn't be and you just happened to be the last person he talked too.
[OVERVIEW]
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Mafias are no joke.
They're dangerous. Violent. Some more than others. Yet it has been covered in gold, glamorized til the point of no return. Yet it isn't senseless murder, but only a few words can deem any murder from senseless to meaningful. It's best to not interact with them at all, it's best to simply know they exist and avoid them. Unless you desire end with them, or below.
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Splattered drops of rain beat down on his form, shoes slippery as he turned down alleyways, shoulders and body slamming into the stone walk, nearly falling over himself to run away. His sight blinded by his wet hair, and clothes stained in dirty and blood.
He's been deemed a thief.
He can hear the loud shouts of orders from behind, the barking of dogs, and heavy footsteps that didn't stop and falter in the rain, an unmoving force that was moving faster than the boy. He continues twisted and turning, praying to any god, that he survives, he has to survive, the people have to know. They must. He stumbles out into the empty street, hands frantically wiping at his face, gasping and spitting out water, a moment to slow.
The sound of a gun rings out, ripping through the flesh of the boy, his body within moments topping over from the sheer-velocity and force, feeling the bullet rip through skin and rest painfully within his back. He blinks the tears from his eyes, as his body lands face first into the cobble stone ground.
Lifeless.
Those chasing him slow, staring the dead body be continuously beat down by the rain, and the rolling crackle of thunder, there's a hushed spread of commands, 'Grab the body. We'll show the Boss.' Voice is blank, as if almost grieving at the unnecessary loss of human life, before turning to his partner- his "friend", who easily tucked the gun away. A shark-like smile spread across his lips.
"He was wanted dead—Now he's dead." He merely shrugs, while the man with a spade symbol upon his face scowls.
"He was wanted alive. You went against the rules." The merman merely shrugs once again, making a 'blah' sound at the mention of the Queendom's rules.
A senseless murder to one, meaningful murder to another.
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Death Certificate letters are the worse letters to ever have to deliver.
The road bumpy beneath your bike wheels, your leather satchel within your metal basket. You offer smiles to those you pass, those who worked in the gardens, picking and planting fresh vegetables and fruits, a group of older women and young girls, that always offer a wave and without outfail a dinner invitation, always adding 'the more the merrier' and there right, it's fun to not eat alone.
You ride your bike over twisted and bends, passing a small library where the owner watered his windowsill flowers, waving at you, and you wave back with a small smile. He's an old man, wrinkly and gray, with a single wooden leg, some say he got it during a fight with the Octavinelle Mafia, though most the others think he's lying, but a good lie never hurt no one.
The Ramschackles are diverse and lively midday, pressing on the breaks as a young man and his children blocked the road, letting his cattle walk through, leading the towards the pasture on the other side. He greets you, asking about your day, as his son climbs the old fencing shouting for the cows to go faster, and his daughter begs to ride the cows, pulling on the pants of his father. You remember the birth of the twins, nearly 6 years ago. You can't help but smile, giving each kid a piece of candy which you got from visiting Heartslabyul, which the father silently mouths a 'thank you', his wife had died in the last fall.
Once the last cow passed, your sped off, familiar with every bump and lump, though all the large rocks having been removed by a group of men, promising to make the road safer for you, and they did. Even covering up the major holes with dirt to make it even. Even amongst the mass of houses and homes, you can see the house that the certified was for, Ms. Louis, a widower, and now, a mother without her son.
Turning a sharp curve and halting in front of her home, kicking down your kickstand and climbing off your bike, yanking you satchel from the basket and fixing down your hair and clothes as you walked up the narrow stops, skipping the creaky board, as your rummaged through your bag. Before you can even knock, the door swings open, just as you grab the envelope.
"[Name], you're here." She speaks with a soft inhale, as if she ran from her kitchen to answer, she has deep eye bags, and her black hair is messy and undone. She attempts to smile, but you can tell by the shakiness of her hands, she's panicking—scared.
You pass her the envelope, yet you can't speak, far too afraid that your voice would crack, and you'd witness this woman all five stages of grief before she could open the yellow envelope. She doesn't wait til your leave, ripping off the edge immediately, you can see her green eyes begin to water, she already knows what awaits her. She tosses the packaging aside, hands running over the thick cardboard paper, fingers tracing the words of her son. She breaks down in sobs, and you hold her, feeling her frail form lean against you, arms wrapped around your shoulder, as she cries and speaks in broken sobs.
"H-he's dead! They-They kill-killed him!" She hiccups, voice cracking, you can feel her already broken heart shattering. Her crying gains the attention of others, some already sure of the fate that her son befell the moment he left the safety of the Ramschackles. Others asking to look at the certificate, as your pull away, watching them read over the piece of paper.
"Bullshit! That boy was no thief!" A neighbor, he shots angrily, holding the paper firm in his hand, as he points to Ms. Louis. "He ain't no thief!" His wife pats his arm, wiping the tears from her eyes, shaking her head at her husband's outburst. "He ain't mean it, Liz. He just hurtin""
"I know. I know." Liz let's put an exasperated laugh, shaking her head as she wipes her tears, walking down the steps and taking the paper back. "I know my Tommy was doing good," she lets out a shaky sigh, before turning back to you, "he always does good. Forgive me, it's been long since I've cried so hard. I know my boy wouldn't want be sobbin' over him like that."
"It's good to cry." You respond with a smile.
"They'r right. Tears ain't hurt nobody.” The husband speaks with a firm headnod, wagging his finger as Liz merely laughs making her way the steps to her house.
"Im in the process of finishin' that onion soup, with the chicken, if you wanna stay for lunch." The husband and wife immediately agree, the wife promising to get the newest loaf of bread to eat with it, as the husband made his way towards the house. Liz glances at you, hopefully. You feel bad, but pat your satchel.
"I got a few more letters, but save me a bite." You hop down the steps as she laughs, climbing back onto your bike and ringing the bell a few times, with a chuckle, before racing off.
The Ramschackles have always and will always be resilient.
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"You had not the jurisdiction!"
Within a room of Crowley Hall, surrounding a table stands seven people. The Red-Rose Tyrant, The King of Beasts, The Deep-Sea Merchant, The Silly Sultan, The Fairest, King of the Underworld, and lastly The General. Tension is thick, palpable, you can almost taste it on yourself tongue.
Vil Schoenheit, The Fairest, was the first to speak, a clear scowl upon perfectly glossed lips, hair pulled back into a bun, clearly tired and annoyed. "Azul, we were supposed to agree,"
"And we did. Forgive me if Heartslabyul was too slow. Floyd is of course an uncontrollable force, and we wanted him dead, no?"
Azul Ashengrotto, The Merchant Of The Deep, has a faux pout, his voice drenched in fake concern, a heavy trench jacket hanging over his shoulders, eyes behind silver glasses beyond amused.
Riddle Rosehearts, The Red-rose Tyrant, stucks in a breath through his teeth, clearly angry, with the furrowing of his red brows. "You had no right. Under law, Floyd's head he be placed along my wall. Our suspect was not supposed to be killed."
"He was a thief. Isn't theft against your laws?" Leona Kingscholar, The King Of Beasts, stands directly infront of Riddle, still across the wide table, a deeply bored expression upon his face, yet his eyes seemed to glow in amusement.
"Exactly. I don't see why I'm such a target for such hate." Azul lets out a pitiful sigh, causing Riddle to slam his hands against the table, nearly knocking over various glasses, he glowers at the mafia boss of Octavinelle.
"If he fought back! You mercilessly killed him upon Heartslabyul soil! Do not deny it!"
"He had information, why give him a chance to live," Azul pushes up his glasses, a cruel grin spreading across his face, "unless you were working with him?"
Leona shakes his head, eyes fluttered close. "For shame."
"That wouldn't be a good look upon Heartslabyul either." Azul continues, before a clearing of a throat cuts him off.
Lilia Vanrouge, The General, the stand in for Diasomnia's Boss. "He had information. Information he shouldn't have. Information that resulted in his death. A shame it is..."
"It was senseless." Riddle crosses his arms, a scowl deep on his face still.
"But the information made it meaningful." Azul continues to keep his artificial smile, eyes on Lilia. The fae merely clears his throat, crossing his arms, a smile child-like grin on his face.
"We cannot go back in time to do differently. Our next step of action is to find if he could've possibly told another person. Any ideas Idia?"
Idia Shroud, The King Of The Underworld, his eyes dart across him screen before nodding. Using his fingers to spread out a image of the Ramschackles, showing the image of a tiny hovel with a rickety iron fence and old stone pathway.
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"Hey, [Name]! This is absolute gold! I gotta tell ya!"
A young boy with blonde hair, and freckles walks beside you as your push your bike. He's holding a letter that you delivered to him simply moments ago. He waves it excitedly. He was a mafia fanatic, loved anything and everything about the place. To the point it had you concerned sometimes. The letter you had given him was from the Thomas Louis, or Tommy.
"Let me tell ya! If I get this to the news! Ooh Wee! Imagine! All that money." He punches the hair, and you shake your head.
"Don't go messin' with the Mafias."
"They aint gon' hurt no nobody like me." Henry has always been excitable, there's not a moment you haven't seen him without a smile that rivals the sun. "Well, I ain't gon' be a nobody for long." He voice quiets, but the smile is still there. Silence.
He opens his mouth to speak again, until a familiar chime of a bell and a holler of 'Henry' sounds loud and clear. "COMIN' MA!" He glances back at you with a grin. "Tomorrow. Imma tell you all about my big plan."
"I'm excited to hear about it." You watch him let out a happy laugh, before running off with a final wave. You spot your home in the distance, picking up your pace, as your place your bike against the metal fence.
Now, you love your home within the Ramshackle, your Lil hovel, and your small garden with your cat. You love it, truly you do. You love your neighbors, and you love the festivals that the Ramshackle holds. You love it all.
Your leather satchel hangs off your hip, filled to the brim with different letters and papers from your most recent trip. You just returned from Scarabia, having a good easy delivery for the old man that lives up the street, and after a long day, you're finally home.
You push past the old rickety iron gate, and up the stone pathway, eyes searching along for your familiar feline friend. He usually waits for you. Hopping the old creaky steps, until you stop right in front of a card. Perfectly placed with gold decor. 'For Ramschackle's Perfect. You're invited to Crowley Hall' written directly on the front. Ramshackle's Perfect was only a joke type name among the people that lived in, said Ramshackle.
Who else would call you that?
You pick up the letter, glancing around the porch, before slipping inside your home, and closing the door behind you. Crowley Hall, also known as the Grand Dinner Hall, a place where all important events took place, especially the meeting of all seven mafia leaders. Why would someone invite you with no other information?
You flip the card, there's nothing else. Your shoulders slump, you shouldn't go. Yet, you stare at the words once again. It could be important or lead to trouble for the other people of Ramshackle. Your eyes drift over to your clock. It was only 7 pm.
You had five hours.
You glance back at the thick fancy card. Five hours before 12. You feel a familiar purr, and glance down at your cat, Grim rubbing against your legs. Five hours, and well, as long as you're back before midnight. You'll be fine.
Right?
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ⓒ 2023 cvlutos — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.
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cvlutos · 1 year
Text
“Hell Fire”
| Repost: 01.12.23 | 1.5 K | Mature |
Rollo Flamm X GN!Reader x Malleus Draconia
| Dark Content | Spying [Voyuer] | Sexual Themes | Etc. | Proceed with Caution, Dearest. |
T.Manor.Notes: The idea was from my lovely, @elenamegan14
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“Tell me, how does someone like you? End up in a place such as NRC?”
The flames of the fire flicker and wave as you sit in front of them. Watching the red and orange flames dance freely. He stands behind you, the shoes of his heels clicking against the stone flooring as he nears you. You ignore him, your fingertips messing with the sheer fabric of your masquerade outfit, your mask placed aside. Over the crack of fire, you can hear the orchestra play.
“I do not take kindly to being ignored.” His icy hands touch the flesh of your cheek, searing you so that you automatically flinch. Yet he doesn’t let you crawl away, pulling you into his chest, shushing you as if you were a wild animal. “Shhh… I’m not going to hurt you…” His voice is hot against the shell of your air, attempting to lure you into false safety.
“I truly just want an answer. What makes you so special?” His hands move, forcing your face forward, forcing you to stare into the flickering flames as if they spoke in hushed whispers. Before stilling completely at the sound of the heavy wooden door being knocked upon.
“Answer.” His voice is quiet and threatening. He shouldn’t be here and he knows that. Your lips quiver as you speak, your voice cracking.
“… Yes?”
“Prince Malleus asks for you.” The voice of a guard. His grip on your tightens, a low ill-intended chuckle vibrating through his throat. “Tell him you’re on your way.” His voice is filled with amusement, squeezing your cheeks painfully.
“… Oh.. Tell him I'll be on my way…”
“Alright.” The room falls silent as the sound of heavy steps moves away from the door. The man drops you, standing up on his feet, watching you lay helplessly. “I do hope we can speak again.” He leans down, sliding the thin blue sparkly sheer scarf from your form, wrapping it around his hand, and exiting the room just as silently as he came.
Your gazes move up to the flames, slowly sitting up, and exhaling. You bring yourself up to your feet, adjusting your clothing, your hands sliding over the place where your scarf once was. You simply have to make do without it. You grab your mask, placing it on your face, grabbing the water bucket, placed in the corner of the room.
Putting out the flames.
══════ ♡ ══════
The Masquerade ball is lively.
Malleus’ hand gripping yours intently, leading you through the crowd. “You seem worried.” His voice snaps you from your thoughts, turning your gaze towards him and not the various masked faces. “I’m fine.” Your voice is curt and you can tell he looks worried behind his mask, moving to where both his hands hold yours.
“You can tell me anything. If something worries—”
“I’m fine. Malleus. I promise.” You pat his hands, though you know he doesn’t believe you as his hold on your hands tightens. Malleus looks over you, before landing on your waist, his eyes slightly darkening, brows furrowing. “The blue scarf. It’s missing.” Your stomach drops as he locks eyes with you, taking a step closer.
“Malleus—”
“I do hope that I am not interrupting.” Turquoise grayish eyes stare at the scene before him, watching the way yours widen and Malleus’ eyes seem to almost glow in disdain. “Monsieur Flamm, not at all. [Name]’s scarf is simply missing.” Malleus speaks, and Rollo tilts his head. Mocking concern, glancing at you for a millisecond. “I could possibly be able to help. If you were to, perhaps describe it to me.”
You open your mouth, stepping forward in panic before Malleus pulls you back to his side. Snaking an arm around your waist. “Blue and sheer.” His words are curt and venomous. Raising goosebumps on your skin.
He thinks to himself, his eyes seeming to brighten up as he looks at you. Pulling from his pocket, he reveals the scarf. Though it’s different, not the one you wore before. Malleus without hesitation, before Rollo steps back. “Ah. Ah. Ah. A good deed shan’t go unrewarded. It’s unfair. And you are everything but.”
“It is a scarf—”
“A dance! Yes. Thank you, I’m just so clumsy. But a dance, is that okay?” You cut Malleus off with faux excitement, ripping from his grip and taking the scarf from the noble bell college student, wrapping it around your waist and tying it sloppily.
“A dance. It shall suffice.” Rollo takes your hands within his own, pulling you towards the ballroom floor, leaving Malleus standing stiff as a statue. Rollo pulls you into his embrace, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other holding your hand.
“So eager to dance.” He speaks slowly as the music starts and you both begin to dance.
“Why do you keep bothering me?”
“I simply wish to know you. Is that a crime?”
“If it includes you stealing, spying, breaking into my room, being a headache. I could go on.” Your voice is firm and agitated, squeezing his hand to show your resentment, which only brings an amused chuckle.
“Ce n’est que le début. Bien d’autres choses vous attendent. Be overjoyed that I haven’t done worse. Wouldn’t wish to make your dragon further upset. That’d be a big dilemma for you to alleviate.” His voice has a dangerous edge, silencing you as he pulls you impossibly close. You twirl and dance around the ballroom, silent as a mouse. Saying nothing to the man you dance with.
“Tell me. Have you figured out an answer to my question?” The music ends, and yet he doesn’t relinquish his grip. Speaking into your ear, his gaze locked onto a glowering dragon.
“I ended up at NRC. Like anyone else. The mirror called me.” Rollo seems satisfied, taking a step back, his gaze moving down to your scarf, tugging at the fabric, making it tighter around your waist. You hear thunder crackle.
“Do your best not to lose it repeatedly. Many would do well to not return it and instead keep it, for such—” He pauses, his hands rising to pinch your cheek, his eyes swirling with something lustful. “Unsavory acts.” He steps back, his amused grin replacing with something smaller, almost unnoticeable.
“Enjoy the rest of the night. If you so desire another dance, do find me.” He leaves with a curt bow. Before you can turn around, you sense Malleus’ towering stature. He undoes the scarf, holding it in his hands as he watches Rollo disappear before finally speaking.
“Stay away from him for the rest of the night.”
He scorches the scarf to ash.
══════ ♡ ══════
Rollo Flamm pities you.
Feeble you. Soiled by the impurities of Night Raven College, tarnished by dirty hands of the several unruly dorms. He leans against the velvet of the couch of his study, a glass wine glass in hand, swirling crimson red wine. The clothing from the masquerade stripped aside, dressed in something more comfortable.
The original scarf he had taken from you, hanging delicately off his desk armchair. He rises from his seat, humming a melody from long ago, reaching his desk. Papers scattered across, each were reports about you. Anything that he could get his hands on.
He glances from his desk and out the large windows of his study. The light of the room in which you were staying was on. Showing your outline, you were changing. A soft sigh rolls off his tongue, placing the glass down, and sliding into his chair, wrapping the scarf around his neck and over his nose. Slowly inhaling.
He watches you calmly. It was like you were dancing. As if you danced from him. He hums, tilting his head to the side, feeling drowsiness take over. Almost lulling him to sleep, with the dull buzz of wine. Until a noticeable figure joins you. The prince of Briar Valley. Pressing you against his form, your silhouette merging into one as he furiously kisses you.
Rollo’s eyes widen, his breath becoming trapped in his throat. He clenches the scarf in hand, watching the intense scene unfold before him. You don’t attempt to push him away but pull him closer. He can’t tear his eyes away, his pants growing tight. He runs a hand through his hair. Tugging at his waistband and swallowing thickly.
The fires crackle wildly and dangerously, speaking and mocking the man who sits at his desk. His eyes glued to the shadow scene before him, as if a magician had cast a spell. Cum soiling the sheer scarf, his cock twitching in the warm air. As the man leans back in his chair, watching the shifting and molding of your bodies making love, chest heaving.
He nearly jumps from his seat, as if emerald green eyes peered at him, fully capable of seeing him and the shameful actions he committed.
Taunting his treasure. Rollo Flamm makes a vow.
He will have you one day. A sinful man like him will pull and pick at every fiber of your being. And you will love him.
Mais si vous choisissez de le renier et de vous enfuir, il prendra une allumette et brûlera tout le NRC.
Until the day he captures you.
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ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.
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cvlutos · 1 year
Note
hey there! I just commented on one of your posts and as I was reading it, I had an idea and was wondering if I could brainstorm w you cause I wanna fan girl w someone
Imagine if Reader always tries to escape the Neighborhood. Every time they get past the Neighborhood, they only ever manage reach the edge of the woods. And then everything goes white.
And they wake up as a different person in the show. A newly introduced character and every time, they have to fight to escape again.
When R first wakes up in the neighborhood, they retain all their memories of their past life for only a minute and then they disappear completely.
pls lemme know if you have any thoughts on this!!
No cause this would be so interesting! Was supposed to write a drabble and instead wrote a whole thing. Oops
HIS GAME!!
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✦ | Apr.08th.2023 | —K |
✦ | Wally Darling | Gn!Reader
✦ | Chasing | Your Trapped | Yandere | No Chance of Escape |
✦ | Synopsis: How many times must we do this, neighbor? |
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"Stop it!"
Your voice is hoarse, panicked, angry, frightened. Once pristine black shiny shoes covered in dirt and mud, your clothing rip and torn, as your nails claw and push against the tall, almost fake pine trees. Desperate to get away, needing to get out.
Trees bend and sway, shivering and jumping as the ground begins to change, turning soft and grabbing the soles of your shoes, the edge of your clothing, pulling you—yanking you—tugging you into the ground that swallowed you. You scream, cry out in utter pain, hands clawing at the gooey surface, your body frantically fighting. Ink-like hands grab at your face, pulling your cheeks and dragging you downward, muffling your screams, digging into your eyes. Your vision blurs into pure white.
'How many times must we do this, neighbor?'
You awake with a jolt, you don't have time, tumbling out of your bed with shaky steps, nearly throwing aside your large night stand as you fumbled for a heavy sharp piece of wood, drawing a shaky tally into the wall, your breathing is erratic as the door to your home opens and footsteps near closer to your bedroom.
You don't have time.
Your vision is spotty, salvia slipping past your lips desperate, exhaustion filling your bones as you slump to the floor. A soft sigh drawing your attention as he stands in your doorway, you can make out the smallest smile and wave, before sleep overtakes you.
'WELCOME HOME'
The note is written with a red crayon, spelled out with a multiple different signatures. Julie, Barnaby, Frank, Poppy, Sally, Eddie, Howdy, & Wally. You can't help but smile at the kind letter, each of your new neighbors taking time to greet you, even though they've never met you. You dust off your colorful clothing, tightening the straps of your red shoes, and fixing your hair as you make your way towards the front door, taking time to inspect your familiar forever home, everything was perfect.
Perfect, Perfect, Perfect.
With familiar perfect colored walls and perfect sized windows. Yet before you can do much more, someone knocks. Once, then twice, before a final three times. Each knock following a musical pattern, that makes you bound happily on each step as you open the door. The sun is bright and shining, the birds always singing as you come face to face with someone you immediately know.
"Hi Neighbor!"
"Wally Darling!" You call his name, like you would an old friend, since that's what he is! Your best friend, your closest friend in the whole wide world. He matches your happiness, tipping his head to you as he elegantly bows, "the one and only."
You smile widens at his antics, watching him stand again and straighten out his blue cardigan, fixing the yellow buttons to all line orderly. "Welcome Home, Neighbor! Now, let us not dilly dally, the others are excited to finally meet you!" He gives you no other second, taking your arm in his as he ushers you out of the house. He walks you down the familiar roads, pointing out all of your neighbor houses, and all the interesting things to do throughout the day.
Things you're familiar with, things you've done before.
"Wally! And Neighbor!" Before you can react, a big ball of blue takes over your vision, lifting out off your feet and hugging you, voices all shouting in chorus, one you've heard before.
"Welcome go the Neighborhood!!"
Time and Time again.
There's a certain unease that follows. Another tally. That lingers behind you like a shadow after every step you take in your ruby red shoes. Another tally. A feeling that tells you over and over and over and over, that something isn't right. Another tally. He isn't right.
You aren't right.
These blue shiny shoes aren't yours. Another tally.
These glittery hair pens don't belong to you. Another tally.
These eyes. This hair. These clothes. This isn't you. This isn't you. This isn't you. This isn't you. This isn't you. This isn't you. This isn't you. This isn't you. This isn't you. This isn't you. This isn't you. This isn't you. This is you. This is you. This is you. This is you. This is you.
'How many more times must we do this, neighbor?'
It was a mere accident, ripping up the wall paper behind your night stand, revealing the large wall filled tally marks. Each line ffranti, hazardously marked as if whoever wrote them was doing so quickly, with escape written in messy letters.
This is how it always begins. Every time you find this wall, every time you see the tally marks, a tally mark you once drew, you remember. You're trapped and must escape.
"No matter how many times we do this, you always remember... I don't understand why you want to leave, Neighbor."
Wally stands in your bedroom doorway, shoulders slack, as he lets out a sigh, his smile returning. "But it's okay Neighbor! You must really love this game. And I'll keep playing until your absolutely satisfied!"
He steps to the side, waving out his arm to you, motioning towards the open door, to the open exit.
And you run.
Another tally.
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ⓒ 2023 cvlutos — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.
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cvlutos · 1 year
Text
JUST FOR TONIGHT!!
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◆ | Apr.08th.2023 | —K |
◆ | Wally Darling | Gn!Reader
◆ | Romantic | Sweet n Creepy | Implied Yandere | Dancing | Tonight You Belong to Me | Sorta Sad |
◆ | Synopsis: Once the sun sets, you're his. Once the sun rises your gone.
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W̴̪̼̩̘͔͒̏̓͐͂̆͑̐͝â̸̙͐͑̌̿͛̽i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ D̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓ŵ̵̨̢̳̞̤̝̖̠̘̩̞̘̭͍̘̐́̈͑̈́̐̂̔̽̓͋̂̔ͅ️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋
W̴̪̼̩̘͔͒̏̓͐͂̆͑̐͝â̸̙͐͑̌̿͛̽i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ d̴̨̢̤̗̦͚̺̭̤͙̹̃̕o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓ŵ̵̨̢̳̞̤̝̖̠̘̩̞̘̭͍̘̐́̈͑̈́̐̂̔̽̓͋̂̔ͅ️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋ â̸̙͐͑̌̿͛̽l̷̢̨̨̫̼͙̞͉̗͉̖̲̖̞̿̉o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋ğ̶̡͚̺̼̱̺̘̳̘̩͚̯͔̎̅̍͋̒́̔̈́̎̂͜͜ t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ȟ̸̨̯̲̝̳͓͎̭͖͊̄̔̽̓̂̋̇̋̀̕̚͜ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜ ️ş̵̛̳̍̃̏͆̏̂̎͌͘͝͝͝͝t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ŕ̶̛̰̱̈́̀́̑̿̾͛͂̈́͗̓̈́̒͘͝️ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜â̸̙͐͑̌̿͛̽m̶̥͇͈̣̏͑̿͑̃̈͛̕͠
The music is low, almost dull to the quiet talking, the quiet tapping of feet, the gentle creaks and lulls made. He hums along, black eyes staring into yours, a lazy grin upon his face as he sways. Holding you close as you both dance.
Ḩ̶̳̣̮̻̪̜͍̹̭͓͍̳̼̈́̅́̄̍̀͐́̊̽͌̊̂͂͠͝͝o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓ŵ̵̨̢̳̞̤̝̖̠̘̩̞̘̭͍̘̐́̈͑̈́̐̂̔̽̓͋̂̔ͅ ṿ̷̮͚̤͊̋̐͊͊̑̅̇̊̎̚͠ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜ŕ̶̛̰̱̈́̀́̑̿̾͛͂̈́͗̓̈́̒͘͝️y̷̧̰̲͍̝̘̗̩̑̇͐̾̽̏͊͑̇̃̉͜
Ḩ̶̳̣̮̻̪̜͍̹̭͓͍̳̼̈́̅́̄̍̀͐́̊̽͌̊̂͂͠͝͝o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓ŵ̵̨̢̳̞̤̝̖̠̘̩̞̘̭͍̘̐́̈͑̈́̐̂̔̽̓͋̂̔ͅ ṿ̷̮͚̤͊̋̐͊͊̑̅̇̊̎̚͠ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜ŕ̶̛̰̱̈́̀́̑̿̾͛͂̈́͗̓̈́̒͘͝️y̷̧̰̲͍̝̘̗̩̑̇͐̾̽̏͊͑̇̃̉͜ ️ş̵̛̳̍̃̏͆̏̂̎͌͘͝͝͝͝ŵ̵̨̢̳̞̤̝̖̠̘̩̞̘̭͍̘̐́̈͑̈́̐̂̔̽̓͋̂̔ͅẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ ŵ̵̨̢̳̞̤̝̖̠̘̩̞̘̭͍̘̐́̈͑̈́̐̂̔̽̓͋̂̔ͅi̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜l̷̢̨̨̫̼͙̞͉̗͉̖̲̖̞̿̉l̷̢̨̨̫̼͙̞͉̗͉̖̲̖̞̿̉ ️ş̵̛̳̍̃̏͆̏̂̎͌͘͝͝͝͝ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜m̶̥͇͈̣̏͑̿͑̃̈͛̕͠
The red silk scarf around his neck undone and discarded somewhere upon the dining table, with his blue cardigan hanging off the back of the carved wooden chairs. Hand entwined with yours and one placed upon your waist. Wally Darling—Your Wally Darling, the man whom you love holds you close.
With dishes that pile up in the sink, waiting to be washed, candles that flicker and sway as if they themselves were dancing to the music from the old cherry red radio. Yet these little things, like the creaking of Home, the way the radio sounds distorted in some parts, how Wally never seems to blink.
O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅ️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋️c̸̛͕̯͂̐̓͗͊͛͝ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜ m̶̥͇͈̣̏͑̿͑̃̈͛̕͠o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓ŕ̶̛̰̱̈́̀́̑̿̾͛͂̈́͗̓̈́̒͘͝️ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜ ️j̷̧̙̠͚̠͍̙̜̱̳̱͈̒͠u̴̢̠͎̲̗̮̤̥̪̖̦͈͕͛̈́̀̒̒̄̚͠️ş̵̛̳̍̃̏͆̏̂̎͌͘͝͝͝͝t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓ d̴̨̢̤̗̦͚̺̭̤͙̹̃̕ŕ̶̛̰̱̈́̀́̑̿̾͛͂̈́͗̓̈́̒͘͝️ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜â̸̙͐͑̌̿͛̽m̶̥͇͈̣̏͑̿͑̃̈͛̕͠
I̸̡̛̳͌̉͋͐͒̍️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋ t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ȟ̸̨̯̲̝̳͓͎̭͖͊̄̔̽̓̂̋̇̋̀̕̚͜ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜ ️ş̵̛̳̍̃̏͆̏̂̎͌͘͝͝͝͝i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜l̷̢̨̨̫̼͙̞͉̗͉̖̲̖̞̿̉ṿ̷̮͚̤͊̋̐͊͊̑̅̇̊̎̚͠ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜ŕ̶̛̰̱̈́̀́̑̿̾͛͂̈́͗̓̈́̒͘͝️y̷̧̰̲͍̝̘̗̩̑̇͐̾̽̏͊͑̇̃̉͜ m̶̥͇͈̣̏͑̿͑̃̈͛̕͠o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋l̷̢̨̨̫̼͙̞͉̗͉̖̲̖̞̿̉i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜ğ̶̡͚̺̼̱̺̘̳̘̩͚̯͔̎̅̍͋̒́̔̈́̎̂͜͜ȟ̸̨̯̲̝̳͓͎̭͖͊̄̔̽̓̂̋̇̋̀̕̚͜t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝
Nothing else matters. Nothing else compares to this moment. "You seem lost in your thoughts, Darling Dearest." His voice is a quiet hum, coaxing you from your mind and back onto him—only him. You smile as you always do, leaning into his touch, eyes fluttering close. "I assume it's something pleasant, you surely must be thinking of me." He teases, never once stopping his subtle movements as he dances along to the song.
A song you've heard before, many many times before, it always plays. With the same dinner, the same candles, the same events plays and plays as if it's forever on loop. Your eyes open, gazing around the colorful living room before stopping on the painted canvas and wooden easel, it's of a house. One that isn't Home, one that isn't in the neighborhood, yet looks familiar.
"Whose house is that?" You stop dancing, pulling away and walking towards the painting.
M̴̨̦͓̰̌͆̉̃̄͆͜ͅy̷̧̰̲͍̝̘̗̩̑̇͐̾̽̏͊͑̇̃̉͜ Ḩ̶̳̣̮̻̪̜͍̹̭͓͍̳̼̈́̅́̄̍̀͐́̊̽͌̊̂͂͠͝͝o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜y̷̧̰̲͍̝̘̗̩̑̇͐̾̽̏͊͑̇̃̉͜
I̸̡̛̳͌̉͋͐͒̍ k̵̨̪̖͇͙͎̜͊̌͘͜️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓ŵ̵̨̢̳̞̤̝̖̠̘̩̞̘̭͍̘̐́̈͑̈́̐̂̔̽̓͋̂̔ͅ (I̸̡̛̳͌̉͋͐͒̍ k̵̨̪̖͇͙͎̜͊̌͘͜️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓ŵ̵̨̢̳̞̤̝̖̠̘̩̞̘̭͍̘̐́̈͑̈́̐̂̔̽̓͋̂̔ͅ)
It's so detailed, so familiar as if you've been there, lived there. Yet you couldn't possibly. There's a tug in your gut that you ignore, smile still upon you face as you look over at Wally with a laugh. "It's looks ama—What's wrong?" Your face falls, staring at your love who scowls, staring—glaring at the canvas, at whatever he painted, before looking at you in utter pain.
"I wish you'd stop doing that." He lets out an exasperated sigh, walking over to his easel and flipping the canvas around, hiding the image from you.
W̴̪̼̩̘͔͒̏̓͐͂̆͑̐͝i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ȟ̸̨̯̲̝̳͓͎̭͖͊̄̔̽̓̂̋̇̋̀̕̚͜ t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ȟ̸̨̯̲̝̳͓͎̭͖͊̄̔̽̓̂̋̇̋̀̕̚͜ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜ d̴̨̢̤̗̦͚̺̭̤͙̹̃̕â̸̙͐͑̌̿͛̽ŵ̵̨̢̳̞̤̝̖̠̘̩̞̘̭͍̘̐́̈͑̈́̐̂̔̽̓͋̂̔ͅ️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋ t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ȟ̸̨̯̲̝̳͓͎̭͖͊̄̔̽̓̂̋̇̋̀̕̚͜â̸̙͐͑̌̿͛̽t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ y̷̧̰̲͍̝̘̗̩̑̇͐̾̽̏͊͑̇̃̉͜o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓u̴̢̠͎̲̗̮̤̥̪̖̦͈͕͛̈́̀̒̒̄̚͠ ŵ̵̨̢̳̞̤̝̖̠̘̩̞̘̭͍̘̐́̈͑̈́̐̂̔̽̓͋̂̔ͅi̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜l̷̢̨̨̫̼͙̞͉̗͉̖̲̖̞̿̉l̷̢̨̨̫̼͙̞͉̗͉̖̲̖̞̿̉ b̶̖̤̋́̋̾̔͗̆͊̊̆́͑̌͆͊̈́ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜ ğ̶̡͚̺̼̱̺̘̳̘̩͚̯͔̎̅̍͋̒́̔̈́̎̂͜͜o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜
"Wally?" Another tug to the gut as he gently tugs your hand, pulling you towards him and back to the area where you were both dancing. Trying to make up for lost time.
"Is it wrong of me to want your attention, My Love? We don't have much time." Your brows furrow at his words, you have the time in the world, to dance again and again, to dance the night away til dawn.
You always do.
B̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽u̴̢̠͎̲̗̮̤̥̪̖̦͈͕͛̈́̀̒̒̄̚͠t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜ğ̶̡͚̺̼̱̺̘̳̘̩͚̯͔̎̅̍͋̒́̔̈́̎̂͜͜ȟ̸̨̯̲̝̳͓͎̭͖͊̄̔̽̓̂̋̇̋̀̕̚͜t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝,
Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓u̴̢̠͎̲̗̮̤̥̪̖̦͈͕͛̈́̀̒̒̄̚͠ b̶̖̤̋́̋̾̔͗̆͊̊̆́͑̌͆͊̈́ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜l̷̢̨̨̫̼͙̞͉̗͉̖̲̖̞̿̉o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋ğ̶̡͚̺̼̱̺̘̳̘̩͚̯͔̎̅̍͋̒́̔̈́̎̂͜͜ t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓ m̶̥͇͈̣̏͑̿͑̃̈͛̕͠ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜
The music is low, dull to the quiet talking, the quiet tapping of feet, the gentle creaks and lulls made. He hums along, like he always does. Black eyes staring into yours, eyes that never seem to blink in fear you disappear. A lazy grin upon his face as he sways. Holding you tight as you both dance.
Never do your bones ache, never do you feel sore as you dance against your beloved, your eyes occasionally drifting to the turned canvas, to the house unknown. You want to go it, to explore it, it seems familiar. Safe. Home.
You want to go home.
️J̸̨̳̘͕̹̫͓̲̘͈̖͎̩͍̺̽̓̈́̆͋̀̇͝u̴̢̠͎̲̗̮̤̥̪̖̦͈͕͛̈́̀̒̒̄̚͠️ş̵̛̳̍̃̏͆̏̂̎͌͘͝͝͝͝t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓ l̷̢̨̨̫̼͙̞͉̗͉̖̲̖̞̿̉i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝l̷̢̨̨̫̼͙̞͉̗͉̖̲̖̞̿̉ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜ o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓l̷̢̨̨̫̼͙̞͉̗͉̖̲̖̞̿̉d̴̨̢̤̗̦͚̺̭̤͙̹̃̕ m̶̥͇͈̣̏͑̿͑̃̈͛̕͠ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜
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ⓒ 2023 cvlutos — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.
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cvlutos · 1 year
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YOUR SAVIOR!!
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◆ Apr.05th.2023 | —K|
◆ Vampire!Vil S. | Gn!Reader | Twst!Vampire Au
◆ Vampire | Implied Sex | Blood Drinking | Intimate | Angst | Switches Between Flashbacks n' Present Time | Slightly Yandere |
◆ Synopsis: You're his doll, his plaything to dress up, to feast upon. Yet I was never only like this. He was once a lover.
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"You look utterly divine."
Cold fingers gently brush against your cheek, the elegant floral smell heavy on your senses and slightly mind numbing, leaving your knees weak and arms aching as you stand. Eyes unfocused as nimble hands fidget with the loose clothing, tightening the places meant to be tightened, ignoring your restrained grunts of pain as your body rocks with his harsh movements. He stands behind you, eyes of beautiful lilac grazing over the bareness of your neck, over your painted cheeks and lips, graced by his always expensive oils, glosses, his everything, as you stand like a mere doll.
One of his many.
Yet, you're his favorite. He likes to whisper it, always reminding you that he chose you. While you sit on his lap, his hands clasped tightly around your waist, lips dragging along the shell of your ear, both of you sitting in front of his large vanity. Lilac slowly changing into a crimson red, feeling the sharpness of his fangs drag along your skin, before biting down. Fangs sinking into your neck and pleasure rippling through your body in orgasmic waves, forcing your hands to clasp at the wood of his well made vanity, heated gasps and muffles slipping past your lips.
"I hate when you zone out." Manicured nails dig into your face, squeezing and pinching, forcing you to pay full attention to the male before you. Vil Schoenheit. A man you would consider your—
"You used to pay so much attention to me," He steps away, letting out a faux disappointed sigh as he moves around his large closet. Searching for whatever elegant and gold accessories he decided to adorn you in.
"Always begging for my attention. Calling me your Savior." There's disappointment mixed with amusement in his tone, holding a small necklace in his hands, back turned to you. Your eyes slide over his back then to the floor. At one point you did—kneeling before him, hands desperately clinging to his feet, begging for him to use you. To have your most valuable asset, your very own blood. Like everyone else.
You're truly no different, until he picked you.
Arrived in your bedroom upon your 18th birth night, drank from you. Gently removing your clothing, kissing your lips, tasting your flesh, bringing you to a high you've never in all your life experienced. Sinking his teeth into your neck, drinking your blood as your naked form clings to him, oh so desperately.
That was many years ago, many years ago that your savior treated you so—lovingly.
More like a lover, spending moonlit nights in naked embrace beneath velvet sheets, performing, reciting things for your ears alone. Yes, your Savior. Who came to love a mortal, yet if you knew his love was so fleeting you wouldn't have.... You've come to terms with your mistakes. With not fleeing the moment the clock struck 12, the moment you awoke to his arms around you, caging you. Trapping you.
You turned into nothing more than an old toy, placed upon a shelf, occasionally cared for, but always drank from. Yet still so very pretty.
"Tell me, what can I do to get you to call me such once again?"
The tips of his nails graze along your neck, placing the elegant necklace in the empty space. Staring at you through the mirror. He's asking—Vil always asks, but you know better, he isn't asking for an honest open answer, he's asking in a way to command.
'Call me like you once did.'
He demands it. And as he gently cups your face, turning you from the mirror and tilting your head to the side, pressing a cold kiss to your neck, you know that he'll never let you age, that death nor sun shall ever grace your skin again. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, eyes fluttering close. You've come to terms with your mistakes, that his embrace is nothing but a trap, honeyed words his poison.
Yet poison from your savior, has never tasted any less sweet.
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Tagging: @pinkskytwst @v-anrouge
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ⓒ 2023 cvlutos — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.
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cvlutos · 1 year
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"NOTHING GOOD HAPPENS AFTER DARK"
RIDDLE R. v LEONA K. [MALE!READER]
ALICE IN WONDERLAND x RED RIDING HOOD [CROSSOVER]
WARNINGS: DARK CONTENT | YANDERE | VIOLENCE | PREDATOR n’ PREY | HUNTING | BLOOD | SUGGESTIVE | IMPLIED MURDER | PERSECTIVE JUMPS | SPECIES DISCRIMINATION | ETC | BE CAUTIOUS, BELOVED
T.MANOR: TRYING A NEW LAYOUT AND WRITING STYLE. ALSO, THIS IS PRETTY MESSY WRITING SO BE AWARE
| PART TWO |
| FEM!VER | GN!VER |
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EVERY Tuesday, exactly at noon, does the stone clock tower chime. Without delay, you hear the sound of trumpets, the marching of hooves, as the golden gates of the palace open. Wide and big, as the card soldiers, in perfect position, march upon horses of black and white, wearing that of red with swords attached to their hips and spears within their hands. Preparing for the Queen’s weekly hunt. The crowd cheers, waves banners, as they yell sayings of good luck.
The cobblestone path is tight, crowded with people, big and small, infants to the elderly, all in hopes of seeing the benevolent Queen off. Even if this same celebration will happen next week as well. In seeing him in all his grandeur. Something you’d “sadly” miss, with your woven basket tight in hand, warm and heavy from the fresh baked delights, all from the Clover bakery. You shimmy through the tight crowd, moving in the opposite direction and were, quite frankly, in the way, even as you walk along the side house and store walls. You mummer ‘excuse me’ and apologize as you go, giving sheepish grins to those who spared you a glance.
You would rather be at home, yet you promised your mother you would go. You promised to go to the bakery, to buy your grandmother’s favorite treats and sweets and deliver them to her. She lives just outside the town and in the center of the thick woods, just on the other side in a small cottage in the middle of the northern woods. A journey you’ve made countless times, and on less crowded days. Yet today, your mother was extra worried, extra concerned for your grandmother’s well being. Even if you promised, you’d go first thing in the morning tomorrow. Yet she forced you anyway. Well, guilt-tripped you into going.
‘What if she’s already dead? Hm? What would you do then?’
Return home? Tell the authorities? Cry? Yet the look on her face told you she didn’t want any back talk, so you gave in and left.
You forced yourself further down the path, spotting the familiar opening that you’ve always taken. The town you live in is surrounded by a large stone wall. Tall and thick, with only one way out of the village, and one way in. Yet this impenetrable wall has a hole, fairly big, that anyone could fit their largest ox. So you had no trouble merely crawling or walking through. The alley that led to your secret path was uncrowded, as if waiting for you and you alone.
You shimmy forward, pushing past local residents. Some allowed room for you, having noticed you, others merely rolled their eyes. You pop your head past the road barricade, searching the long stone road. The card soldiers were far. Far away to where you could make it without interrupting them, or them even noticing you. You step over the thick string, glancing one more time, before you make haste. Darting onto the clear, wide road. Ignoring shouts and gasps as you make your way to the alley. Stopping to catch your breath, you turn around. Some of the crowd are merely laughing you off, others completely ignoring, some glared at you disappointedly, yet none made a move to call the guards on you. Your eyes scan the road. You hadn’t dropped anything, and if you did, you’re sure no one would even notice.
Slightly proud of yourself, you continue on, moving past the eccentric alley system, moving quickly past houses and shops, jogging towards the large wall.
You’d be fine.
══════ ♡ ══════
“HALT.”
The crowd becomes silent, and everything pauses. A send off has never once stopped. The Red Queen, golden crown glinting in the sun, his hand raised high. His horse stands still, the same confident and demanding energy as his owner, bows his head, as the Queen flows off the saddle. Heels clicking against the stone road. He walks forward, taking exactly five precise steps, before crouching, leather gloved fingers swiping along the stone. How he saw just a small thing, no one will ever know. The squished remains of strawberry cream cheese tart, a small delight. He rubs the cream between his fingers before rising just as quickly, holding out his hand for a napkin. It appears within a second. He turns on his heel, glaring eyes scouring the crowd, before landing on an older man.
“You! Who ran across here!?”
“Uh! I have no clue, your—your majesty.” He gives an embarrassed, clumsy bow, keeping his eyes glued to the ground. “Then you tell me?” The Queen looks at another, a young woman, who automatically stiffens her posture, face paling.
“A-a man! A young man. With—with a wooden basket and red cape.” The crowd nods along eagerly.
“In which direction?”
Multiple hands point towards the alley, all in fear to face the Queen’s wrath. With a single snap, five card soldiers appear by his side. “Search for the one with a red hood. Such disrespect shall not be tolerated.” There’s a chorus of ‘yes! your majesty.’ Yet not a soul moving til the Queen re-asummed his position upon his horse. “We will resume! While in search of this Red Hood!” His voice is thunderous, and as if nothing happened, everything returns to normal.
══════ ♡ ══════
The leaves crunch beneath your feet. As you continue your long trek, the path is winding and bumpy, covered in wild leaves and branches, the cobblestone hidden beneath the foliage. The basket sways within your hand as you walk and wander along the familiar path. The cool breeze flutters your crimson cloak, and you pull the hood to cover your head and protect your ears. Wishing to have worn pants instead of trying to be cute with your red shorts and white knee-length socks.
The Queendom is never cold, unless the Queen desires cold weather.
It always remains at the perfect temperature, always a warm summer breeze and a perfect summer day. And as you venture deeper into the woods and further away from the Queendom, the cobblestone path slowly crumbles and slowly turns to dirt. You stop at the threshold, glancing behind you. Something about today seems different.
You hope it’ll be a good day.
You venture into the woods.
══════ ♡ ══════
“Ruggie. I’m heading out. Ill be back.”
He lets out a low yawn, stretching his muscles as he walked towards the cave entrance, not giving Ruggie, his right hand, a chance to respond, leaving the hyena beastman to do whatever it is he’s doing. He pushes past the thick vines of the cave, leaving the warmth of the cave and giving a shallow nod to a young wolf beastman who currently was guarding the large camp, with the others like him. “Ill be back before dawn.”
“It’s noon? And the Queen and his guard is hunting today. Far from us, but still. Are you sur—” The lazy king gives a short wave, swatting away the beastman’s concerns, stifling another yawn, leisurely wiping tired tears from his eyes, while the wolf opened his mouth to speak.
“Jack!” The duo looks towards the urgent voices. Two young beastmen, a young tiger and an older bear, both you jogged frantically, seemingly having to run across the majority of the temporary camp. They slow to a stop, giving a quick bow to their pride leader before turning to Jack.
“The Queen’s Knights. Theres five of them! Theyre asking for you presence!”
“Of course. I’m on my way. Leona.” Jack turns to their sleepy leader, only to find the place where he stood empty. He’s brows furrow, before quickly giving up and motioning for the two to lead the way.
The Queendom of Roses and the Pride of Kingscholar. While the Queen occupies the Northern woods, the Kingscholar current occupies the East portion. Over months of arguments and fights, the Kingscholar Pride has been slowly forced to the outskirts and south, while the Queendom slowly takes over the North and East.
Jack and the two beastmen run side by side, running towards the end of the camp, coming across the five poised card guards. They all sit on white pristine horses, not moving an ounce as Jack slows and straightens out his white button-up shirt. “Where is Leona Kingscholar? We shall only speak to one of authority.” The voice is muffled by his thick metal helmet, clasping to his reins and swords.
“He’s away. What you need can be spoken back to him.” Jack crosses his arm, keeping a scowl upon his lips as the knight scoffs.
“I shouldn’t expect more from your kind,” Jack clicks his tongue but doesn’t speak, letting the knight continue, “There’s a human boy in red. He has ruined the Queen’s sendoff and thus must receive punishment. If you find him, you know best to hand him over immediately.”
“I have no such obligations.”
“Right—” You can hear the confidence in his voice, as he shifts the reins, getting ready to move, “It’s only best to consume your meat fresh. I hope you don’t get red fabric between your fangs, wolf.”Jack gives a low growl as the horse becomes spooked, rushing over, earning a yelp from the knight and gasps from the other silent four. They watch the group ride off into the forest, before letting out a huff.
“Jack. What should we do?”
The tiger beastman speaks first, which earns a thoughtful sigh from the wolf beastman. “Nothing. I’m sure Leona will find the boy before we do. Continue as you were.” Jack turns on his heels, rolling his shoulders as both boys shout and eager ‘yes’. This camp is only temporary until they reach the eastern mountain’s summit, and beyond that will be the savannas once you cross the mountains. Something Leona has been avoiding for the longest time.
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The farther you walk, the darker the woods get. Yet the twisting and winding path doesn’t lead you astray, a path in which you’re acquainted with. And as the trees grow closer and the leaves block the sun, it feels colder, as luminescent mushrooms and flowers that grow alongside the path glow in hints of blue and yellows, give you little light, while pollen that glows a soft purple flutters through the air. It’s absolutely enchanting, with towering thick trees and small sections which sunlight peeks through, highlighting the vibrant green plants and bushes. You hum softly, playing different games as you walk, occasionally eating one of your grandmother’s snacks.
“Youre quite far.”
You screech, nearly jumping out of your skin at the new presence of a voice. You look around and see no one. Your heart pounds against your ribcage. After a few moments, you left out a huff, slowly calming yourself.
“Especially during the Tyrant’s Hunt,” There’s a low chuckle that sends shudders down your spine and you look around frantically, “He might very well mistake you for a deer.” A rock zooms past your head, barely missing you and striking the tree behind you. Your body stiffens.
“Can you not speak?” It’s taunting and drawn out and you shiver as if ghost hands caress your body.
“What do you want—?”
“Now that is the question,” The voice lets out a low hum, and you hear the shuffling of plants, “I am quite hungry.”
You get a horrible feeling, and nearly trip, as something, or a someone, bolts through the thicket. A lion beastman. Before you can react, nails digging into your shoulders, and the new weight forces you to fall back, and momentum pushes you and him to roll over yourselves. Until you’re once again on your back, with the air from your lungs. Your eyes fly open, staring into amused deep emerald green eyes. You wince at the feelings of nails digging into your shoulders, close to breaking your skin and making you bleed, but he doesn’t. Only giving you the sensation of nails breaking skin. Your heels dig into the earth as you desperately try to regain your breath.
“Oh… Dont look like that. You act like I’m going to eat you. Well,” His hands move from your shoulders, letting you crawl backwards and away as he rested on the balls of his feet, forearms resting on his thighs as he tilts his head to the side. Eyes trailing you up and down, staring at the expansion of your bare thighs and legs, a low whistle slipping past his lips. “I might. In a more human way.” A shiver rolls down your spine as you use your cape to cover your legs. He visibly looks displeased as he looks at your face.
“Little Red Riding Hood on the run from the Queen.” He hums and youre eyes widen as you stagger to your feet.
“What? I didn’t do anything?!”
“Doesn’t seem that way,” his tail flicks lazily, his finger drawing in the dirt in clear boredom, “you somehow made the little tyrant mad.” He stands and you step away, he makes no move toward you. Green eyes gazing around the forest before stopping and landing on the path, in the direction in which you came. You follow his gaze and when you look back, the lion beastman is extremely close, his nose brushing against yours. You jump away and he rests a hand on his hips, while the other holds out your forgotten basket.
“I would get going little red. Unless you want to be headless.”
You take your basket and glanced the path, you could hear the pounding of hooves. You grimace before turning around, sharing one more glance at the beastman before darting down the path, back onto the road to grandmother’s house.
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There’s six. Six horses, five knights, one tyrant.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, kicking up dirt and letting out a yawn, he was pretty hungry. Maybe you’d and your grandmother might make a good snack after he’s done here. He counts the seconds before the Tyrant comes into view, an ever-permanent scowl upon his youthful face. He’s pristine and upon seeing Leona, he ordered his soldiers to stop and with ease slides off his horse and marches 10 steps before glaring at the Lion Beastman.
“Queen’s rules dictate that youre not allowed within the northern forest on Tuesday afternoons. In all honesty, I should send you and your pride further east for such disrespect of the Queens’s rules.” His words are venomous, speaking precisely that has his knights flinching even if the words weren’t for them.
“It’s Tuesday? I had no idea. Oops.” Using his pinky finger, he cleans out his ear with a bored expression, earning a harder glare as the Queen struggles to remain calm.
“No matter. Do what you want. I have more pressing matters.” He holds out his hand, and immediately, a parchment scroll is placed within his hands. The Queendom of Roses has always been the most efficient and quick. Undoing the rolled parchment and holding up the paper, your face was drawn most beautifully, a perfect reflection almost.
“Pretty isn’t he.” Leona furrows his brows, watching the Tyrant marvel at the photo, his nose scrunches in disgust.
“What are you on, Riddle?” Gasps and quick inhales come from the knights, yet the Queen doesn’t seem to mind, only few can call him by his name.
“If you must know. He disturbed my send off, and I assumed he was some ruffian. But to now see a drawing of him. He is quite cute and I am in need of a King,” He tilts her head with a gleeful grin, that seemed misplaced and lovesick, “Though I will have to break him in, make him more obedient. But I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”
“You truly are sick.” Riddle face morphs from love-struck to angry, rolling up the parchment delicately, before clearing his throat.
“I suggest you go. Unless—” A arrow shoots past Riddle’s head and grazes the fullness of Leona’s cheek before striking the tree behind him. Green eyes widen a mere fraction, and the tyrant beholds the tiniest smile. The card soldiers werent mere decoration, yet they arent that smart either. One of them must be a skilled huntsman.
“You know what I am capable of. I hate to have to make you my target instead.”
The leader of his pride rolls his shoulders lazily, with his thumb wiping away the blood on his cheek. “Absolutely. Id hate to make you angry. Know if you’ll excuse me, this lion is quite hungry.” And without another word, the lion stalks into the unknown of the woods.
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The path to grandmother’s house seems a lot longer than it usually does. Usually you’d be at her tiny cottage within an hour or two, yet it feels like days since you entered the woods and encountered the lion beastman. As if the forest was alive, living, breathing. As if the path beneath you were snakes whose bodies twisted and turned, knocking you off your feet.
You land with a hard thud, shaking your head. The forest is darker than before. How long has it been? You know the path and you know it well yet; you search your surroundings lazily, feeling as if you were submerged in thick oil, and the word seemed muffled. You spot vibrant red mushrooms that seemed to inflate before releasing a thick white gas. Hallucinations. They’re carnivorous mushrooms, but they’re never active during the day, nor on the path. Theyre new. As if purposely planted, but that’s ridiculous.
And it couldn’t possibly be night.
No.
You struggle to your feet, gripping the basket and meandering.
Walking.
Walking.
Walking.
Walking.
Walking.
Walking.
Walking.
Until a beacon.
Off to the side of the path, nestled in between two large trees, if you walked further down the path you’ll come across the small cottage village, with her golden porch light, was your grandmother’s house. With her stone walls and wooden roof were covered in moss and mushrooms, while her red painted door was visible. You pick up your pace, stumbling occasionally as you reach her rickety wooden porch, a wide grin upon your lips as you knock on the old door.
“Grandma!” You call through the wood, yet no reply. You grab the gold doorknob, turning it and slowly pushing the door inside, letting yourself in.
It’s the same as you remember, with the fireplace on, with fresh logs. There was no collection of dust, and the couch looked recently sat on. Her throw blanket and decor pillows were out of place. You close the door behind you, slipping off your shoes, and placed the basket on the dining room table. While undoing the strings of your cape and calling out to your grandma. You move deeper into her home, before reaching her bedroom. You knock.
“Oh, darling! I’m feeling quite sick, but come in. Come in.” Her voice sounds the same, and your tense shoulders drop, as a smile spreads across your face as you open the door. Only to find her bed empty and made, with the window wide open. You step further into the room, looking around, before you hear a soft click and you spin around, only to find the lion beastman from before. He isn’t looking at you, but instead squeezing a small bird.
“Mimic birds are quite useful. Able to mimic to the voice of anyone and anything once they hear it.” He releases the bird, and it frantically flies out the window. You step back. “You—My grandma!” You suck in a panicked breath and the man only shrugs. Striding his way towards you, his hand moving faster than you could comprehend to grab your face and squeeze your cheeks.
“What do you think—” His free arm slides around your waist and forces your close, you try to push him away, “I did. Maybe I ate her. Gobbled her up like a big bad wolf,” He faux pouts before clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes in personal annoyance, “Or lion, that fits better doesn’t it.” He shakes your head aggressively, speaking like a mother would to a child when they’re fussy,
“Maybe ill eat you up. Wouldn’t you just like that—” He lets you break away with a laugh, watching your glare, and he tilts his head and eyes moving out the window.
You can hear horses.
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ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.
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cvlutos · 1 year
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✦ BARBATOS [OBEY ME] | CONCERNS FOR THE FUTURE | YANDERE [TW: STALKING, IMPLIED VIOLENCE, NSFW]
There's something so romantic about watching you sleep.
Something so intimate about standing beside your bed while you're away, fixing the tousled covers and sheets, folding them and straight to utter perfection, ignoring the ache—the utter desire to give into my very devilish temptations. To bury my nose into your scent and leave behind the faintest scent of my smell and taste. Dining on the pure imagery of you laying down, tired and desperate for rest to smell me, your fingers gazing over the faintest stain of my... secretions.
My gloved hands drag over the spot in which you lay, hovering over the form of your sleeping body, unaware of eyes that so hungrily watch you. My eyes. Yet, there is no ounce within my being that feels this is wrong. Not a portion of my tainted soul that feels guilt for what I do. Because guilt for watching you, guilt for sliding open your lips and dragging my tongue along yours, doesn't exist. And never will.
As I gently caressing your soft flesh, knees resting against the mattress, as I place a chaste kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment before ultimately pulling away. Thinking over simply how much love I hold for you. Though the line between love and simple obsession—possession is a fine line that I walk dutifully.
I was at one moment certain, sure in myself that I would never love—never love a mortal, a human, so weak and frail, yet I find your weakness, shall I say endearing? Watching you fumble and struggle to adapt into a world that will never fully be yours. I enjoy it. Watching you so blatantly need me, I mean, how else could you possibly do anything alone? You couldn't. Which is what I love, that I can't help but for a moment, pity you...
But not enough to stop. Nor enough to truly help you in a way that's productive for me, at least.
Soon, I'll have to clip those pesky wings of yours, break that never ending prideful hope—desire to impress and prove useful to others. Yet those are worries for another day, for now, I'll merely watch you sleep.
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cvlutos · 1 year
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TWISTED WONDERLAND: MAFIA AU
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Overview:
Night Raven City.
A beautifully rotten city, ruled by crime and all the bad things within the world. Where the government and police are merely pawns to the real owners of this horrid city.
NRC is divided into seven mafias. Seven mafias that operate in different parts of the city and need each other to maintain balance. There are few places in which the seven don't rule, and you happen to live within the said place. Which is known as The Ramshackle. Home too many that want nothing to do with the powerful groups. And one rule within the Damshackles is, "Do not stay out beyond midnight." Nothing good happens after the clock chimes 12.
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Mafia Heartslabyul:
Heartslabyul, also know as the Queendom of Roses, is strict and as long as laws and rules are followed, you wouldn't even believe that you were within mafia territory. There's rarely crime's rarely crime, and the mafia doesn't bother the people within its territory unless said people are up to no good. Which causes a public showing of punishment, to deter others from crossing the Rose-Red Mafia.
Directly in control of healthcare and portions of the Law. All Hospitals must pay the H.M [Heartslabyul Mafia] taxes and go through them before working with anyone that could want to work against the mafia. As well as portions of the law are decided by people that are tied to the crimson group. Most simply pay what's owed and follow the strict rules within his district, unless you don't, which is like signing your own death certificate. Next thing you know, you'll find your head not attached to your neck.
༺❘✦Boss [Godfather]: Riddle Rosehearts
Title: Red-Rose Tyrant
Age: 22
The Boss is the head of the family, usually reigning as a dictator, sometimes called the Don or "Godfather". The boss receives a cut of every operation. Operations are taken on by every member of the family.
The Heartslabyul Mafia works similarly to a Kingdom, with the next boss being chosen from birth. Passed down from his mother, then from her mother. Riddle is the first son after nearly 50 years of being run by women. He's seen as hot- headed when mad, but also extremely reliable. Placing the concern of his people first.
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✦Underboss: Cater Diamond
Title: Tyrant's Lap Dog
Age: 23
The Underboss, usually appointed by the boss, is the second in command of the family. The underboss often runs the day-to-day responsibilities of the family or oversees its most lucrative rackets. He usually gets a percentage of the family's income from the boss's cut. The underboss is usually first in line to become acting boss if the boss is imprisoned, and is also frequently seen as a logical successor.
Cater Diamond was chosen by Riddle's mother to be his Underboss, and he has kept that position since Riddle has deemed him reliable enough to stay. Cater is seen as the only real person within the Mafia, and he's persuasive.
✦Consigliere: Trey Clover
Title: Tyrant's Right-Hand
Age: 24
The consigliere is an advisor to the family and is sometimes seen as the boss's "right-hand man". He is used as a mediator of disputes and often acts as a representative or aide for the family in meetings with other families, rival criminal organizations, and important business associates. In practice, the consigliere is normally the third-ranking member of the administration of a family and was traditionally a senior member carrying the utmost respect of the family and is deeply familiar with the inner workings of the organization. A boss will often appoint a trusted close friend or personal advisor as his official consigliere.
Trey Clover has been friends with Riddle since childhood, as well as he's family has been involved with the Heartslabyul mafia for generations, which makes them basically family. Trey is extremely reliable and everyone within Heartslabyul view him as family, with his kind appearance.
✦Caporegime [Capo]: Deuce Spade
Title: Tyrant's Guard Dog
Age: 19
A caporegime (also captain or skipper) is in charge of a crew, a group of soldiers who report directly to him. Each crew usually contains 10-20 soldiers and many more associates. A capo is appointed by the boss and reports to him or the underboss. A captain gives a percentage of his (and his underlings') earnings to the boss and is also responsible for any tasks assigned, including murder.
Deuce Spade was brought into the Mafia due to him messing with the wrong crowd and angering Riddle, so in order to not die, he pledged his loyalty. Over time climbing up the ranks from soldier to a Capo within 2 years. Many are conflicted with Deuce's sudden joining, but it isn't look down upon to join the Heartslabyul Mafia.
✦Associate: Ace Trappola
Title: Tyrant's Ace Card
Age: 19
An associate is not a member of the Mafia but works for a crime family nonetheless. Associates can include a wide range of people who work for the family. An associate can have a wide range of duties, from virtually carrying out the same duties as a soldier to being a simple errand boy.
Due to his father's business, Ace basically grew up running errands for the Mafia, and that hasn't changed. He works with his brother and has slightly closer ties to the Mafia due to his friendship with Deuce.
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Mafia SavannaClaw:
SavannaClaw District is damn near lawless and follows the rules of their mafia and the mafia alone. The Government and Police are basically useless. They represent the wild, with a lot of natural landscape, yet believe heavily in the idea of keeping women and children safe. Majority of the SavannaClaw mafia is made up of women. Crime happens often within their territory but is often handled with right away by their own civilians. The women of SavannaClaw don't involve themselves with average crime and hold a lot of power throughout all seven territories. No one dares to prevent them from getting justice.
SavannaClaw is directly in control of food resources and recreational places, such as parks, zoos, and nature parks. All stores and recreational places go to him directly and must pay the S.M taxes, as well as any other Mafias must pay S.M unless they have special permissions. SavannaClaw prides themselves on being fair and non-discriminatory. As long as you are respectful to them, if not, you'll find yourself within the lion's den.
༺❘✦Boss [Godfather]: Leona Kingscholar
Title: King of Beasts
Age: 26
The Boss is the head of the family, usually reigning as a dictator, sometimes called the Don or "Godfather". The boss receives a cut of every operation. Operations are taken on by every member of the family.
Another Mafia that works similarly to a Kingdom, but also follows the circle of life. Issues that happen within the district of SavannaClaw will be solved by those who live within SavannaClaw. Many retreat there for safety, even despite its dog-eats-dog world.
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✦Underboss: Ruggie Bucchi
Title: Heart of SavannaClaw
Age: 23
The Underboss, usually appointed by the boss, is the second in command of the family. The underboss often runs the day-to-day responsibilities of the family or oversees its most lucrative rackets. He usually gets a percentage of the family's income from the boss's cut. The underboss is usually first in line to become acting boss if the boss is imprisoned, and is also frequently seen as a logical successor.
Ruggie also acts as both Underboss and Consigliere, due to Leona wanting no one else as his Consigliere, which gives Ruggie many jobs to take care of, but also an extremely reliable part within SavannaClaw. Some say before Ruggie, Leona had a Consigliere, who was a different man, a huntsman, only for said man to leave Leona for another Mafia.
✦Caporegime [Capo]: Jack Howl
Title: Lion's Blood Hound
Age: 19
A caporegime (also captain or skipper) is in charge of a crew, a group of soldiers who report directly to him. Each crew usually contains 10-20 soldiers and many more associates. A capo is appointed by the boss and reports to him or the underboss. A captain gives a percentage of his (and his underlings') earnings to the boss and is also responsible for any tasks assigned, including murder.
Jack Howl purposely chose to join Leona's mafia, after leaving Pomefiore once the current Mafia Leader took over. He enjoys the real atmosphere and enjoys the freeing atmosphere that Pomefiore couldn't grant.
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Mafia Octavinelle:
Octavinelle is one of the most dangerous parts of the city. Violence and crimes at all times, there are truly 2 parts to Octavinelle. Uptown and Downtown. Uptown is where the richest and wealthiest are, where the best restaurants are, the best stores, and the best everything. If you have the money and style, you can live the best life within Octavinelle.
Downtown Octavinelle is the exact opposite, dirty and grungy, the worse of the worse and the Mafia will simply turn a blind eye. Crimes happen often and no one solves them. If you're dead, then you're dead. Better luck next time. This Mafia is truly ruthless and isn't for the faint of heart. The police within its territory is as dangerous as the mafia, often paid to simply slack around, not to do their job.
Octavinelle gets most of its profit from restaurants, and stores, as well as making deals luring people into debt. His deals are super influential that not even the other six mafia bosses can intervene, except to tell others to be completely wary of him. There is no true honor code, aside from written agreements. Break his deal, and you'd possibly find yourself drowning.
༺❘✦Boss [Godfather]: Azul Ashengrotto
Title: Merchant of the Deep
Age: 23
The Boss is the head of the family, usually reigning as a dictator, sometimes called the Don or "Godfather". The boss receives a cut of every operation. Operations are taken on by every member of the family.
One can view Octavinelle as a large capitalistic corporation, and Azul takes full advantage of his people without any trouble. He continues to try to expand his territory and plans to have Ramshackle under his jurisdiction.
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✦Underboss: Jade Leech
Title: Calm-Headed Sadist
Age: 23
The Underboss, usually appointed by the boss, is the second in command of the family. The underboss often runs the day-to-day responsibilities of the family or oversees its most lucrative rackets. He usually gets a percentage of the family's income from the boss's cut. The underboss is usually first in line to become acting boss if the boss is imprisoned, and is also frequently seen as a logical successor.
Jade has also taken control of the position of Consigliere for his own liking and is quite busy. Seen almost all the time in all places. Yet he isn't loved, he's absolutely feared. If you see Jade Leech around you, it's better to simply pray that he isn't there for you.
✦Caporegime [Capo]: Floyd Leech
Title: Sadistic Eel
Age: 23
A caporegime (also captain or skipper) is in charge of a crew, a group of soldiers who report directly to him. Each crew usually contains 10-20 soldiers and many more associates. A capo is appointed by the boss and reports to him or the underboss. A captain gives a percentage of his (and his underlings') earnings to the boss and is also responsible for any tasks assigned, including murder.
Floyd is almost as equally disliked as Jade. He's known for his aggressiveness and is often in charge of any major incidents that involve murder. It's best that if you see him, to walk the other way and look boring enough that he'll leave you alone.
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Mafia Scarabia:
The 2nd most violent district, after the new Mafia Boss, became in charge. Scarabia, also known as Scalding Sands, is beautiful in the land, and the people are genuinely sweet and kind, yet the violence is never checked, due to said kindness. Scalding Sands is also one of the largest district. The first largest SavannaClaw, aka the Sunset Savanna, 2nd is Octavinelle, aka the Coral Sea, and 3rd is Scalding Sands. This is an extremely rich mafia group, one of the largest due to its economy.
Scarabia gains profit from the selling of seasonings, oil, and rare minerals. Which gives Scarabia the nickname, The land of Gold. The Scarabia Mafia is tied closely to the Government, influencing them directly. Those that outright disrespect Scarabia, this will definitely leave you stranded in the desert.
༺❘✦Boss [Godfather]: Kalim Al-Asim
Title: Silly Sultan
Age: 22
The Boss is the head of the family, usually reigning as a dictator, sometimes called the Don or "Godfather". The boss receives a cut of every operation. Operations are taken on by every member of the family.
Kalim was appointed by his father and is generous and kind, which is the primary cause for the heightened crimes and violence, due to his blind optimism and clear unawareness of the suffering of his people.
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✦Underboss: Jamil Viper
Title: Level-Head Right-Hand
Age: 22
The Underboss, usually appointed by the boss, is the second in command of the family. The underboss often runs the day-to-day responsibilities of the family or oversees its most lucrative rackets. He usually gets a percentage of the family's income from the boss's cut. The underboss is usually first in line to become acting boss if the boss is imprisoned, and is also frequently seen as a logical successor.
Jamil, in some circles, is seen as the true Boss of Scarabia, with his level- headedness and trying to actually help Scarabia. Though many more are loyal to Kalim. Some say that Jamil is a snake hidden, waiting for the best moment to strike.
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Mafia Pomefiore:
Pomefiore, once known as the Shaftlands, the Entertainment District, is filled to the brim with Models, Actors, and anyone that wants to be a star, famous, and beloved. This is the best district to live in if you want forever entertainment, even though it's extremely dangerous and fake. Following strict rules, especially if you want to succeed. This industry is cutthroat and not just anyone can be famous, especially since the Mafia controls the media. During the day it's a picturesque aesthetic, the same as the night sites. But if you're simply the average person, it's dangerous. Many escaped the tyrannical rule of the Pomefiore Mafia.
Pomefiore is in charge of NRC's entertainment and tourism, and NRC relies heavily on it, bringing in large amounts of the city's money. Pomefiore is one of the most aesthetically pleasing Mafia, that is a constant presence, that in some parts, seen as an honor to be graced by the mafia, in others, is a complete nightmare that could leave you poisoned.
༺❘✦Boss [Godfather]: Vil Schoenheit
Title: The Fairest
Age: 24
The Boss is the head of the family, usually reigning as a dictator, sometimes called the Don or "Godfather". The boss receives a cut of every operation. Operations are taken on by every member of the family.
Vil rose to power due to his fast popularity, taking over Pomefiore single- handedly and modeling the District into his own. Many love him, while others are scared of him and ran to escape.
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✦Underboss: Rook Hunt
Title: The Queen's Hunter
Age: 24
The Underboss, usually appointed by the boss, is the second in command of the family. The underboss often runs the day-to-day responsibilities of the family or oversees its most lucrative rackets. He usually gets a percentage of the family's income from the boss's cut. The underboss is usually first in line to become acting boss if the boss is imprisoned, and is also frequently seen as a logical successor.
Rook Hunt, at one point, worked for the Mafia Boss of SavannaClaw, before the two Mafia Leaders clashed and Rook chose Vil over SavannaClaw, taking the position as Vil's Underboss and Consigliere. Many view Rook as weird and often avoid him as a whole. If you ever see Rook, that will absolutely be your last time alive.
✦Caporegime [Capo]: Epel Felmier
Title: Pretty Boy
Age: 19
A caporegime (also captain or skipper) is in charge of a crew, a group of soldiers who report directly to him. Each crew usually contains 10-20 soldiers and many more associates. A capo is appointed by the boss and reports to him or the underboss. A captain gives a percentage of his (and his underlings') earnings to the boss and is also responsible for any tasks assigned, including murder.
Epel was forced into the Mafia after causing some trouble with a group of kids. Vil liked the way Epel looked and forced him to train and work to become his capo. Epel hates it and actively disrespects him.
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Mafia Ignihyde:
No one knows much about the Ignihyde District, aka the Underworld. It is genuinely a ghost town during the day, and anyone you do see immediately runs. The city is operated by machines until the sun sets and Ignihyde is alive. With events and parties, with stores open and bright lights. Unlike the foggy day, where you can barely see 3 feet in front of you. Violence is extremely rare, due to the fear of getting chased by Ignihyde Mafia's robot dogs, which are extremely violent, and most people that interact with the dogs don't come out alive.
The majority of Ignihyde's income comes from the selling of technology and weapons. From security systems to machine guns. There is no project too difficult to complete if the amount of money is high enough. Ignihyde, though, is extremely protective of their machines and if you're caught tampering with one, it will lead you 6 feet under.
༺❘✦Boss [Godfather]: Idia Shroud
Title: King of Underworld
Age: 23
The Boss is the head of the family, usually reigning as a dictator, sometimes called the Don or "Godfather". The boss receives a cut of every operation. Operations are taken on by every member of the family.
Idia was chosen by his parents and has been boss for as long as anyone could remember, though most have never seen what he looks like. Many believe that they have to be worthy enough to look upon him. They wouldn't believe that he's a huge, anxious introvert.
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✦Underboss: Ortho Shroud
Title: Sibling of the King
Age: 16?
The Underboss, usually appointed by the boss, is the second in command of the family. The underboss often runs the day-to-day responsibilities of the family or oversees its most lucrative rackets. He usually gets a percentage of the family's income from the boss's cut. The underboss is usually first in line to become acting boss if the boss is imprisoned, and is also frequently seen as a logical successor.
One of the youngest within the Mafia to have such a powerful position. He's both the Underboss and Consigliere and is constantly seen running any errands, big or small. Ortho is extremely friendly, yet if you disrespect Idia, you disrespect him. So, any ill speaking of Idia ends with your soul in the afterlife.
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Mafia Diasomnia:
Diasomnia District, aka Briar Valley, is the quietest and often forgotten, even though it has the most influential power. Many don't ever leave the Diasomnia District and never interact with the Mafia, so it's an honor seeing the Mafia in person. Similar to Heartslabyul, which Diasomnia is inspired by, so has various similarities to, it's an honor to be within the Diasomnia Mafia, and many love their existence. It's orderly and most of the people within Diasomnia have amazing influence and power. Little to none chaos or violence occurs, and is one of the safest districts, with slight problems due to discrimination.
Diasomnia has major control over everything and is super influential. Their money comes from everywhere and anyone, even if that means doing unsavory things. No one dares to talk bad about the Diasomnia mafia, lest you wanna be put into an endless sleep.
༺❘✦Boss [Godfather]: Malleus Draconia
Title: King of Briar Valley
Age: 28
The Boss is the head of the family, usually reigning as a dictator, sometimes called the Don or "Godfather". The boss receives a cut of every operation. Operations are taken on by every member of the family.
No one has ever seen Malleus but knows of his strength within the Briar Valley, which is the for the Diasomnia District. Everyone fears, yet absolutely cherish him and never wants his reign to end.
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✦Underboss: Silver
Title: Sleeping Knight
Age: 22
The Underboss, usually appointed by the boss, is the second in command of the family. The underboss often runs the day-to-day responsibilities of the family or oversees its most lucrative rackets. He usually gets a percentage of the family's income from the boss's cut. The underboss is usually first in line to become acting boss if the boss is imprisoned, and is also frequently seen as a logical successor.
Silver is unique out of the Mafia. No one knows where he came from, nor why he's important enough to be underboss, but he is. Having been raised to someday take the position.
✦Consigliere: Lilia Vanrouge
Title: General
Age: 32
The consigliere is an advisor to the family and is sometimes seen as the boss's "right-hand man". He is used as a mediator of disputes and often acts as a representative or aide for the family in meetings with other families, rival criminal organizations, and important business associates. In practice, the consigliere is normally the third-ranking member of the administration of a family and was traditionally a senior member carrying the utmost respect of the family and is deeply familiar with the inner workings of the organization. A boss will often appoint a trusted close friend or personal advisor as his official consigliere.
Lilia is scary. Frightening. Yet acts like that of a child. He's weird and his behavior is odd. Most remember him to have a more serious appearance, than the boyish one he has now, which confuses many.
✦Caporegime [Capo]: Sebek Zigvolt
Title: Cap' Croc, Yapping Crocodile, & Most Loyal Knight
Age: 19
A caporegime (also captain or skipper) is in charge of a crew, a group of soldiers who report directly to him. Each crew usually contains 10-20 soldiers and many more associates. A capo is appointed by the boss and reports to him or the underboss. A captain gives a percentage of his (and his underlings') earnings to the boss and is also responsible for any tasks assigned, including murder.
His title, Yapping Crocodile was created by Leona from SavannaClaw, due to his constant yelling in defense of Malleus, which stuck with him as he rose the ranks to Capo. Silver calls him Cap' Croc, cause it's also funny. Sebek is like any other member of the Diasomnia Mafia, is to prove himself.
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Information:
Magic exists, yet is rarely used. Outdated. And in some places, frowned upon. The existence of beastman, fae, and merpeople, as well as humans still exists. Immorality is still a thing—aswell as overblots. Mafia Leaders are still the only ones who use magic on a regular bases.
Each of the mafia districts had an original name. For example, The Heartslabyul District, but their district was originally named Queendom of Roses. This is due to the overarching power that the Mafia holds, that each district is named after the Mafia instead of its original Name. They are still identified as they're old names on maps, but they're lost to those inside the Districts, depending on their mafia.
Ramshackle isn't considered a district, even though it's big enough to be one, but is rather large and runs on its own, and is located on the outskirts of NRC. Ramshackle isn't under the control of any Mafia.
All 7 districts meet surround a circle of NRC, where the Government is mainly based as well as those rich that can afford to be outside of the Mafia but are still reliant upon them.
Anyone can visit different districts, though many choose not to unless they have written documents that allow you within other districts, as well as paying a small fee. Some Districts are harder to get into than others.
For example, SavannaClaw requires valid documents and as long as they're valid and you carry them with you at all times, you're completely safe and welcome. But if you want to go to Octavinelle and you don't live there, you're required to pay a fee of nearly 50 dollars ~ 100 thaumarks to simply visit, and if you want to leave, it requires months' notice. In some districts, it's better to stay than to try to leave.
Not all districts get along, though some are more respected than others.
For example, Pomefiore is one of the first and longest existing mafias within NRC, with Heartslabyul the second longest, having a deeply rooted influence that lasts generations. So Pomefiore and Heartslabyul highly respect each other.
Rivalries Exist. Due to the participation in sports, Each District has its own sports teams that compete with each other and the best players move on and can join NRC's main team. Though these competitions are extremely political and determine various things.
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NRC Government:
Controlled by Dire Crowley, who decided years ago that instead of continuous Mafia and Gang wars, they would merely allow the Mafia certain territories and districts in order to keep the peace and it has been that way since. Though many view him as unreliable and a coward, Crowley has prevented the deaths of many, to the best of his abilities, limiting the spread of the seven mafias. Forcing them to act only within their district and stopping them from spreading to other cities.
RSA Heroes:
RSA is a neighboring city that's been directly impacted by NRC's growing problem. The RSA Heroes are a group of people that actively fight against the Mafias, and aid those that want to escape NRC, which has gained the popularity of those within Ramshackle and has caused problems for the seven mafias. Some mafias which that personally want to get rid of the Ramshackles and force them to live within the Districts.
Noble Bell City:
An equally corrupt far-off city, that often meets with the mafia leaders of NRC, yet views them as brash. NBC isn't different from NRC, except for their current governor, Rollo Flamm, who controls all of NBC, which makes it a toxic and dangerous city. Has attempted to lure Ramshackle and make it part of NBC, which angered Diasomnia.
The Ramshackle District:
This is where you live. There's a rather healthy community of people helping people, and even if it's old and dirty, you love it. You live here with your cat, Grim, who you found digging in your dumpster. You work a simple job, running different errands, that often have you visiting multiple different districts, yet never once have you run into the Mafia. Simply cause you follow one rule, "Do stay out beyond midnight."
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Now, you love your home within the Ramshackle, your lil hovel, and your small garden with your cat. You love it, truly you do. You love your neighbors, and you love the festivals that the Ramshackle holds. You love it all.
Your leather satchel hangs off your hip, filled to the brim with different letters and papers from your most recent trip. You just returned from Scarabia, having a good easy delivery for the old man that lives up the street, and after a long day, you're finally home. You push past the old rickety iron gate, and up the stone pathway, eyes searching along for your familiar feline friend. He usually waits for you.
Hopping the old creaky steps, until you stop right in front of a card. Perfectly placed with gold decor. 'For Ramschackle's Perfect. You're invited to Crowley Hall' written directly on the front. Ramshackle's Perfect was only a joke type name among the people that lived in, said Ramshackle. Who else would call you that?
You pick up the letter, glancing around the porch, before slipping inside your home, and closing the door behind you. Crowley Hall, also known as the Grand Dinner Hall, a place where all important events took place, especially the meeting of all seven mafia leaders. Why would someone invite you with no other information? You flip the card, there's nothing else. Your shoulders slump, you shouldn't go. Yet, you stare at the words once again. It could be important or lead to trouble for the other people of Ramshackle. Your eyes drift over to your clock. It was only 7 pm.
You had five hours.
You glance back at the thick fancy card. Five hours before 12. You feel a familiar purr, and glance down at your cat, Grim rubbing against your legs. Five hours, and well, as long as you're back before midnight. You'll be fine.
Right?
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ⓒ 2023 cvlutos — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.
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cvlutos · 1 year
Text
OUR FAIRYTALE ENDING
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✡︎ May.09.2023 | 2.3K| Commissioned by @starstruckcaptain
✡︎ Yandere! Kalim A. | Fem!Reader
✡︎ Yandere | Angst | Kidnapping | Stalking | Obsession | Lovesick | Different POVs | Timeskips | Noncon | Smut | Blood | Manipulation | Etc | Proceed with Caution, My Love.
✡︎ Synopsis: It started with a simple fairy tale, the devolved into a obbesassion, the became an illness. One that has no true cure.
| One | Two | Three | Four | Five |
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“A true love kiss that seals is binding. Ties to lovers together. No matter the odds.”
— Childhood Fairy Tale
The thick pages of the large hard-covered book are heavy in his small hands, placed heavily in his lap, as his wide garnet red eyes dart quickly across the old, yellowed pages, reading the old fading ink. He hears the gentle rustling of wind that dances through wooden wind chimes, creating gentle clattering as he focuses on the pages. Lips a gap in utter awe with the old fairy tale.
The young heir is tucked away in a dimly lit corner of the ancient library, sitting crisscross beneath a dust-covered wooden desk, using a long wax candle, placed upon a golden hand-held candlestick, using the gentle orange flame to light the small corner of where he sat and give him the ability to see. Still dressed in his silk pajamas and barefoot as he sits upon the plush velvet cushion, one that he dragged from his bedroom with the help of his faithful servant and closest friend, Jamil Viper, who has currently disappeared somewhere in the library, though Kalim, knows he’s always near.
He always is.
Yet that isn't what the young heir cares for, not at this moment. He wants to fall in love like the prince in his story does. Who is so kind and sweet, who gives to the poor, who sees the good in everyone. The prince in his tale showers his love in gold and jewels, and dances within sunlit days and cool moonlit nights away. Who holds them close and seals their love with a kiss. Yes, this is what he desires more than anything.
To get married to his own love. To his princess.
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“Shall I have you for all my own! Yes, I shall slay dragons, fight demons, and save you for all you are! Because I love you! And what is stronger than love?"
— Childhood Fairy Tale
“Do you think soulmates exist?”
Kalim walks along the towered wall, arms outstretched as he balances, placing one foot in front of the other, with Jamil by his side, holding the young heir’s belongings as they walk around the large vibrant courtyard, wasting time before Kalim's next school lesson, which is history. One of Kalim's least favorite, since the tutor is quite rude.
The large grassy courtyard is filled with unique plants--ranging from distant flowers, that fill the air with a rich fragrant aroma, and lush green bushes that hid colorful berries, to elegant and giving fruit trees, that Kalim occasionally takes from, filling his stomach with fresh oranges and plums.
“I don't see why they don't exist.” Jamil’s answer is simple, honest—like he hadn't bothered to think about it more than a mere moment, allowing Kalim to indulge in his fantasies, while he focused on making sure Kalim didn't topple off the stone wall and hurt himself. Which he knows Kalim wouldn't care about, wanting to immediately visit the palace doctor, desiring to be spoiled and given a handful of sweet candy for listening so well. Obviously trying to avoid the stern history tutor. While Jamil knows the doctor will send him to be scolded by his parents for being so careless about the young successor's health.
Which is something Jamil would rather avoid.
Charcoal grey eyes occasionally glance over, watching the heir’s feet skip and balance on the wall, occasionally wobbling, which nearly gave the young retainer a heart attack.
“I wonder where my soulmate is! She just has to be thinking about me!”
Not paying attention to Jamil's clear nervousness and annoyance with constantly having to divide his attention, Kalim continues hopping and bounding along the old wall carelessly. White hair shifting in the mild breeze as the loose clothing he wore sways and is pulled by the wind. Earning a delighted laugh from the young successor follows the wind’s pull, carelessly falling off the wall in one fluid motion. Jamil’s face pales as he rushes to the other side, jumping over the fence, still carrying the heavy school bag. Watching Kalim lay on his back, unphased as he lands in plush grass. Staring up at the bright blue sky, arms spread out gaily.
“And when we met Jamil! I'll give her the sweetest kiss! Then we’ll get married!”
Jamil bites his tongue and merely nods in return, gently placing the bag on the ground, taking the moment to sit in the shade of the stone wall, listening to Kalim laugh away. Letting the young heir to the Asim Family have his daydreams. Cause eventually, he will be saddled with reality, a harsh reality.
Even Kalim Al-Asim is not untouchable to the world of arranged marriages.
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“Even in your faults of delusion. I shall cherish you—clear your mind of horrors and love you eternally.”
— Childhood Fairy Tale
The pen scratches along the paper, held by a shaky hand that moves across the page, quickly and frantically. Barely aware of what he writes, but knowing he has to write down what he remembers of his dream. A dream so vivid that it seemed real—that it was real. His milky white hair was in complete disarray, with drool decorating the side of his lips, and sweat coating his skin. The cool desert air does little to cool him, as the windows remain open, giving a clear view of the bright full moon that barely illuminates his pages. He can barely see, barely make out the words he writes messily, still in a half-sleep daze, but he needs to remember.
It’s late in the night, and he's awake before either Jamil or any of the other numerous servants checked on him, eager to serve every whim and need. While only the two guards were stationed outside his door possibly awake, but quite unaware of the quiet rambles of the heir, who drew a messy portrait of the woman in his dream. He sits upon the plushness of his bed, with a leather-bound journal in his lap, filled with other dreams of this same woman and stories that were written poorly but stories he adores that speak of you and him.
You have filled his life unlike any other.
Kalim dreamed of a pretty woman with pretty eyes. A woman that loved him, that desired him, heart and soul. That threw herself into his arms and held him so desperately. Cupping his face and whispering over and over and over how much she loved him. How she'd wait forever and ever and ever for him. Those dreams would matter less once they met.
The brain is a cruel thing.
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“If you do not love me, then I accept that your feelings are your own. But I cannot deny mine, my pure feelings of want! I will love you. Forever.”
— Childhood Fairy Tale
There’s slight worry in his ways, a slight obsession that fills Kalim, as he turns woman after woman away, only holding eyes for one and giving no other a chance. Holding out for the woman he loves and loves him in return.
Still, kindness is etched into his being, rejecting each in utter honesty, speaking of why he cannot love them. Each woman leaves with nothing but understanding, that leaves with the feeling of rejection... Dull.
Leaves each to hope and to find love in one who's as devoted as he, as Kalim speaks of nothing but his true love. As his presence alone emits such devotion and passion with great fervor that you would think that his love was real.
That all he speaks was truth. That this mysterious woman was real—and she is. To him.
Jamil is the only one aware of the truth, the only one aware that Kalim lives within his own lies—within his own delusions.
Yet he keeps such thoughts to himself.
Allowing the young heir to ramble on and on, to speak endlessly about his beautiful, enchanting lover, to show sketch after sketch and mourn that he could never recreate her beauty, but once he found her, he would know immediately. Jamil says nothing, merely sits, and watches Kalim flip through his journal, page after page filled with nothing but her, her, her.
A Her without a name.
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Night Raven College does nothing to curve his growing obsession. To stomp out this flame that burns and festers within his chest.
"I had another dream."
Jamil tries to keep his placated look, only sharing a brief look behind him, watching garnet eyes look utterly lovesick. Remembering not of his outbursts that follow after he awakes from his dreams—dreams that have Kalim waking up screaming—sobbing his eyes out in pain as if he was being stabbed and ripped apart. Screams that frighten the other dormmates, as their housewarden wakes up covered in sweat, tossing off his blankets and pillows in mass hysteria. While others desperately call and usher Jamil into the room. Who forces the others out as he holds Kalim onto the large bed, forcing his body to go limp from exhaustion. Sobs turning into faint mumbles, silently wailing about how badly he needs them, how he could die from the simple pain of being far from them, and how fate keeps them apart.
"It hurts," he cries, it hurts that he can't be with his love. Eyes fluttering close. After so many years, it's so painful to dream. Nights that force Jamil to remain by his side, forced to console his "friend" who doesn't want kind words but merely wants her.
And in the mornings, it is no better.
With Jamil ushered his heir awake, gently shaking his shoulders, waiting for Kalim to open his eyes—to open his eyes to the waking world. Only for him to throw tantrums, sobbing and begging for Jamil to let him go back. To let him her. "Please, let me see her. Please", Kalim sobs, body limp as Jamil practically drags him from bed.
Kalim wants to spend his days in his fantasy only.
His retainer does well to avoid the topics of love and dreaming, doing well to keep Kalim, for the most occupied with anything else. Leaving no time for Kalim to think about her--you--for a moment.
Yet sometimes this obsession seeps through the cracks. Slipping past the several walls Jamil has built to keep him sane.
Kalim's voice is a whisper amongst the sea of people, walking side by side with Jamil, who carries his and the heir's bag with a tepid look, more focused on navigating through the many students and not be late to their next class. Wanting Kalim to do anything but speak about you.
Kalim doesn't notice his friend's disinterest, used to Jamil's silent air, and far too deep in his mind, far too in love with the idea he has built.
He continues talking.
“But this time it wasn't in the courtyard, but the school gardens.” There’s an optimistic tone in his voice, one that makes Jamil sick. He says nothing, as Kalim walks with a certain breeze in his step as he moves, unconcerned by the weird glances he got as the two glid through the crowd, a delighted smile upon his face. Jamil gives a short hum, letting Kalim know he was somewhat listening, which Kalim believed was highly important. Jamil had to listen, and he had to absolutely like his lover, and care for her as his retainer cares for him.
Which is something Jamil has heard numerous times, from long-time friends to distant guests he was sure that Kalim would never see again. And under any other circumstances, Jamil would give a blunt ‘Absolutely. A friend of yours is a dear friend of mine’, with a deep bow, while easily lying through his teeth with a faux sweet tone, something that Kalim would believe without any worry.
Yet this time, Kalim was serious.
Garnet eyes were unmoving, and lips pressed together, sitting more poised like a ruler--like a king that deserved respect. Kalim was not asking, nor making a random comment nor gesture of goodwill. He was demanding that Jamil swear it--swear upon his oath that he made to Kalim since the day he was born. To vow that he would care for his love.
Forcing Jamil to not see him as an overly innocent man who was hopelessly in love, but as the next heir of the Al-Asim Family who had found his future bride. He, whose word is absolute. And Jamil did, pressing his forehead to the cold marble ground, swearing upon his life to care for her. And after a moment, Kalim was satisfied, returning back to his carefree self a moment later.
“Jamil… She said she was here. Waiting for me to find her.”
Kalim stops, the halls clearing slowly. His gaze stares out into the school courtyard below, standing silently in the open stone halls, wind rustling through his hair as he gathers his thoughts before the large open windows. His hand clutches the ends of his shirt with nothing but a grin.
A chill runs along Jamil’s spine, staring at Kalim with unrevealing eyes, lips pressed together as he gives a firm nod. Inching to move as he watches garnet eyes fill with something unlike him while searching his retainer’s before frowning.
“You don't seem happy—”
“I am.” Jamil’s words are quick, watching the dark look unfamiliar look disappear quickly, his smile automatically returns. Unable to hide his happiness nor remain still, he practically lunges onto his closest friend with a tight hug, squeezing tightly.
“You’ll help me find her…” Kalim speaks, but he follows with a gentle sigh and a headshake, “I know you will.” It’s a command. One that isn't forceful, nor threatening, but an expectation.
Jamil is his servant after all.
“Of course, I will.”
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ⓒ 2023 cvlutos — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.
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cvlutos · 1 year
Text
"NOTHING GOOD HAPPENS AFTER DARK"
RIDDLE R. v LEONA K. [FEM! READER]
| MATURE | 3.4K | 01.31.23 |
ALICE IN WONDERLAND x RED RIDING HOOD [CROSSOVER]
WARNINGS: DARK CONTENT | YANDERE | VIOLENCE | PREDATOR n’ PREY | HUNTING | BLOOD | SUGGESTIVE | IMPLIED MURDER | PERSECTIVE JUMPS | SPECIES DISCRIMINATION | ETC | BE CAUTIOUS, BELOVED
T.MANOR: TRYING A NEW LAYOUT AND WRITING STYLE. ALSO THIS IS PRETTY MESSY WRITING SO BE AWARE, CAUSE I WAS JUST WRITING
| PART TWO |
| MALE!VER | GN!VER |
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EVERY Tuesday, exactly at noon, does the stone clock tower chime. Without delay, you hear the sound of trumpets, the marching of hooves, as the golden gates of the palace open. Wide and big, as the card soldiers, in perfect position, march upon horses of black and white, wearing that of red with swords attached to their hips and spears within their hands. Preparing for the Queen’s weekly hunt. The crowd cheers, waves banners, as they yell sayings of good luck.
The cobblestone path is tight, crowded with people, big and small, infants to the elderly, all in hopes of seeing the benevolent Queen off. Even if this same celebration will happen next week as well. In seeing him in all his grandeur. Something you’d "sadly" miss, with your woven basket tight in hand, warm and heavy from the fresh baked delights, all from the Clover bakery. You shimmy through the tight crowd, moving in the opposite direction and were, quite frankly, in the way, even as you walk along the side house and store walls. You mummer ‘excuse me’ and apologize as you go, giving sheepish grins to those who spared you a glance.
You would rather be at home, yet you promised your mother you would go. You promised to go to the bakery, to buy your grandmother’s favorite treats and sweets and deliver them to her. She lives just outside the town and in the center of the thick woods, just on the other side in a small cottage in the middle of the northern woods. A journey you’ve made countless times, and on less crowded days. Yet today, your mother was extra worried, extra concerned for your grandmother’s well being. Even if you promised, you’d go first thing in the morning tomorrow. Yet she forced you anyway. Well, guilt-tripped you into going.
‘What if she’s already dead? Hm? What would you do then?’
Return home? Tell the authorities? Cry? Yet the look on her face told you she didn’t want any back talk, so you gave in and left.
You forced yourself further down the path, spotting the familiar opening that you’ve always taken. The town you live in is surrounded by a large stone wall. Tall and thick, with only one way out of the village, and one way in. Yet this impenetrable wall has a hole, fairly big, that anyone could fit their largest ox. So you had no trouble merely crawling or walking through. The alley that led to your secret path was uncrowded, as if waiting for you and you alone.
You shimmy forward, pushing past local residents. Some allowed room for you, having noticed you, others merely rolled their eyes. You pop your head past the road barricade, searching the long stone road. The card soldiers were far. Far away to where you could make it without interrupting them, or them even noticing you. You step over the thick string, glancing one more time, before you make haste. Darting onto the clear, wide road. Ignoring shouts and gasps as you make your way to the alley. Stopping to catch your breath, you turn around. Some of the crowd are merely laughing you off, others completely ignoring, some glared at you disappointedly, yet none made a move to call the guards on you. Your eyes scan the road. You hadn’t dropped anything, and if you did, you’re sure no one would even notice.
Slightly proud of yourself, you continue on, moving past the eccentric alley system, moving quickly past houses and shops, jogging towards the large wall.
You’d be fine.
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"HALT."
The crowd becomes silent, and everything pauses. A send off has never once stopped. The Red Queen, golden crown glinting in the sun, his hand raised high. His horse stands still, the same confident and demanding energy as his owner, bows his head, as the Queen flows off the saddle. Heels clicking against the stone road. He walks forward, taking exactly five precise steps, before crouching, leather gloved fingers swiping along the stone. How he saw just a small thing, no one will ever know. The squished remains of strawberry cream cheese tart, a small delight. He rubs the cream between his fingers before rising just as quickly, holding out his hand for a napkin. It appears within a second. He turns on his heel, glaring eyes scouring the crowd, before landing on an older man.
"You! Who ran across here!?"
"Uh! I have no clue, your—your majesty." He gives an embarrassed, clumsy bow, keeping his eyes glued to the ground. "Then you tell me?" The Queen looks at another, a young woman, who automatically stiffens her posture, face paling.
"A-a woman! A young woman. With—with a wooden basket and red cape." The crowd nods along eagerly.
"In which direction?"
Multiple hands point towards the alley, all in fear to face the Queen’s wrath. With a single snap, five card soldiers appear by his side. "Search for the one with a red hood. Such disrespect shall not be tolerated." There’s a chorus of ‘yes! your majesty.’ Yet not a soul moving til the Queen re-asummed his position upon his horse. "We will resume! While in search of this Red Hood!" His voice is thunderous, and as if nothing happened, everything returns to normal.
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The leaves crunch beneath your feet. As you continue your long trek, the path is winding and bumpy, covered in wild leaves and branches, the cobblestone hidden beneath the foliage. The basket sways within your hand as you walk and wander along the familiar path. The cool breeze flutters your crimson cloak, and you pull the hood to cover your head and protect your ears. Wishing to have worn pants instead of trying to be cute with your red skirt and white knee-length stocking.
The Queendom is never cold, unless the Queen desires cold weather.
It always remains at the perfect temperature, always a warm summer breeze and a perfect summer day. And as you venture deeper into the woods and further away from the Queendom, the cobblestone path slowly crumbles and slowly turns to dirt. You stop at the threshold, glancing behind you. Something about today seems different.
You hope it’ll be a good day.
You venture into the woods.
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"Ruggie. I’m heading out. Ill be back."
He lets out a low yawn, stretching his muscles as he walked towards the cave entrance, not giving Ruggie, his right hand, a chance to respond, leaving the hyena beastman to do whatever it is he’s doing. He pushes past the thick vines of the cave, leaving the warmth of the cave and giving a shallow nod to a young wolf beastman who currently was guarding the large camp, with the others like him. "Ill be back before dawn."
"It’s after noon? And the Queen and his guard is hunting today. Far from us, but still. Are you sur—" The lazy king gives a short wave, swatting away the beastman’s concerns, stifling another yawn, leisurely wiping tired tears from his eyes, while the wolf opened his mouth to speak.
"Jack!" The duo looks towards the urgent voices. Two young beastmen, a young tiger and an older bear, both you jogged frantically, seemingly having to run across the majority of the temporary camp. They slow to a stop, giving a quick bow to their pride leader before turning to Jack.
"The Queen’s Knights. Theres five of them! Theyre asking for you presence!"
"Of course. I’m on my way. Leona—" Jack turns to their sleepy leader, only to find the place where he stood empty. He’s brows furrow, before quickly giving up and motioning for the two to lead the way.
The Queendom of Roses and the Pride of Kingscholar. While the Queen occupies the Northern woods, the Kingscholar current occupies the East portion. Over months of arguments and fights, the Kingscholar Pride has been slowly forced to the outskirts and south, while the Queendom slowly takes over the North and East.
Jack and the two beastmen run side by side, running towards the end of the camp, coming across the five poised card guards. They all sit on white pristine horses, not moving an ounce as Jack slows and straightens out his white button-up shirt. "Where is Leona Kingscholar? We shall only speak to one of authority." The voice is muffled by his thick metal helmet, clasping to his reins and swords.
"He’s away. What you need can be spoken back to him." Jack crosses his arm, keeping a scowl upon his lips as the knight scoffs.
"I shouldn’t expect more from your kind," Jack clicks his tongue but doesn’t speak, letting the knight continue, "There’s a human girl in red. She has ruined the Queen’s sendoff and thus must receive punishment. If you find her, you know best to hand her over immediately."
"I have no such obligations."
"Right—" You can hear the confidence in his voice, as he shifts the reins, getting ready to move, "It’s only best to consume your meat fresh. I hope you don’t get red fabric between your fangs, wolf." Jack gives a low growl as the horse becomes spooked, rushing over, earning a yelp from the knight and gasps from the other silent four. They watch the group ride off into the forest, before letting out a huff.
"Jack. What should we do?"
The tiger beastman speaks first, which earns a thoughtful sigh from the wolf beastman. "Nothing. I’m sure Leona will find the girl before we do. Continue as you were." Jack turns on his heels, rolling his shoulders as both boys shout and eager ‘yes’. This camp is only temporary until they reach the eastern mountain’s summit, and beyond that will be the savannas once you cross the mountains. Something Leona has been avoiding for the longest time.
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The farther you walk, the darker the woods get. Yet the twisting and winding path doesn’t lead you astray, a path in which you're acquainted with. And as the trees grow closer and the leaves block the sun, it feels colder, as luminescent mushrooms and flowers that grow alongside the path glow in hints of blue and yellows, give you little light, while pollen that glows a soft purple flutters through the air. It’s absolutely enchanting, with towering thick trees and small sections which sunlight peeks through, highlighting the vibrant green plants and bushes. You hum softly, playing different games as you walk, occasionally eating one of your grandmother’s snacks.
"Youre quite far."
You screech, nearly jumping out of your skin at the new presence of a voice. You look around and see no one. Your heart pounds against your ribcage. After a few moments, you left out a huff, slowly calming yourself.
"Especially during the Tyrant’s Hunt," There’s a low chuckle that sends shudders down your spine and you look around frantically, "He might very well mistake you for a deer." A rock zooms past your head, barely missing you and striking the tree behind you. Your body stiffens.
"Can you not speak?" It’s taunting and drawn out and you shiver as if ghost hands caress your body.
"What do you want—?"
"Now that is the question," The voice lets out a low hum, and you hear the shuffling of plants, "I am quite hungry."
You get a horrible feeling, and nearly trip, as something, or a someone, bolts through the thicket. A lion beastman. Before you can react, nails digging into your shoulders, and the new weight forces you to fall back, and momentum pushes you and him to roll over yourselves. Until you're once again on your back, with the air from your lungs. Your eyes fly open, staring into amused deep emerald green eyes. You wince at the feelings of nails digging into your shoulders, close to breaking your skin and making you bleed, but he doesn’t. Only giving you the sensation of nails breaking skin. Your heels dig into the earth as you desperately try to regain your breath.
"Oh… Dont look like that. You act like I’m going to eat you. Well," His hands move from your shoulders, letting you crawl backwards and away as he rested on the balls of his feet, forearms resting on his thighs as he tilts his head to the side. Eyes trailing you up and down, staring at the expansion of your bare thighs and legs, a low whistle slipping past his lips. "I might. In a more human way." A shiver rolls down your spine as you use your cape to cover your legs. He visibly looks displeased as he looks at your face.
"Little Red Riding Hood on the run from the Queen." He hums and youre eyes widen as you stagger to your feet.
"What? I didn’t do anything?!"
"Doesn’t seem that way," his tail flicks lazily, his finger drawing in the dirt in clear boredom, "you somehow made the little tyrant mad." He stands and you step away, he makes no move toward you. Green eyes gazing around the forest before stopping and landing on the path, in the direction in which you came. You follow his gaze and when you look back, the lion beastman is extremely close, his nose brushing against yours. You jump away and he rests a hand on his hips, while the other holds out your forgotten basket.
"I would get going little red. Unless you want to be headless."
You take your basket and glanced the path, you could hear the pounding of hooves. You grimace before turning around, sharing one more glance at the beastman before darting down the path, back onto the road to grandmother’s house.
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There’s six. Six horses, five knights, one tyrant.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, kicking up dirt and letting out a yawn, he was pretty hungry. Maybe you’d and your grandmother might make a good snack after he’s done here. He counts the seconds before the Tyrant comes into view, an ever-permanent scowl upon his youthful face. He’s pristine and upon seeing Leona, he ordered his soldiers to stop and with ease slides off his horse and marches 10 steps before glaring at the Lion Beastman.
"Queen’s rules dictate that youre not allowed within the northern forest on Tuesday afternoons. In all honesty, I should send you and your pride further east for such disrespect of the Queens’s rules." His words are venomous, speaking precisely that has his knights flinching even if the words weren’t for them.
"It’s Tuesday? I had no idea. Oops." Using his pinky finger, he cleans out his ear with a bored expression, earning a harder glare as the Queen struggles to remain calm.
"No matter. Do what you want. I have more pressing matters." He holds out his hand, and immediately, a parchment scroll is placed within his hands. The Queendom of Roses has always been the most efficient and quick. Undoing the rolled parchment and holding up the paper, your face was drawn most beautifully, a perfect reflection almost.
"Pretty isn’t she." Leona furrows his brows, watching the Tyrant marvel at the photo, the beastman’s nose scrunches in disgust.
"What are you on, Riddle?" Gasps and quick inhales come from the knights, yet the Queen doesn’t seem to mind, only few can call him by his name.
"If you must know. She ruined my send off, and I assumed she was some ruffian. But to now see such a drawing of her. She is quite cute and I am in need of a King," He tilts her head with a gleeful grin, that seemed misplaced and lovesick, "Though I will have to break her in, make her more obedient. But I’m sure it’ll be worth it."
"You truly are sick." Riddle face morphs from love-struck to angry, rolling up the parchment delicately, before clearing his throat.
"I suggest you go. Unless—" A arrow shoots past Riddle's head and grazes the fullness of Leona’s cheek before striking the tree behind him. Green eyes widen a mere fraction, and the tyrant beholds the tiniest smile. The card soldiers weren’t mere decoration, yet they aren’t that smart either. One of them must be a skilled huntsman.
"You know what I am capable of. I hate to have to make you my target instead."
The leader of his pride rolls his shoulders lazily, with his thumb wiping away the blood on his cheek. "Absolutely. Id hate to make you angry. Now if you’ll excuse me, this lion is quite hungry." And without another word, the lion stalks into the unknown of the woods.
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The path to grandmother’s house seems a lot longer than it usually does. Usually you’d be at her tiny cottage within an hour or two, yet it feels like days since you entered the woods and encountered the lion beastman. As if the forest was alive, living, breathing. As if the path beneath you were snakes whose bodies twisted and turned, knocking you off your feet.
You land with a hard thud, shaking your head. The forest is darker than before. How long has it been? You know the path and you know it well yet; you search your surroundings lazily, feeling as if you were submerged in thick oil, and the word seemed muffled. You spot vibrant red mushrooms that seemed to inflate before releasing a thick white gas. Hallucinations. They’re carnivorous mushrooms, but they’re never active during the day, nor on the path. They’re new. As if purposely planted, but that’s ridiculous.
And it couldn’t possibly be night.
No.
You struggle to your feet, gripping the basket and meandering.
Walking.
Walking.
Walking.
Walking.
Walking.
Walking.
Walking.
Until a beacon.
Off to the side of the path, nestled in between two large trees, if you walked further down the path you’ll come across the small cottage village, with her golden porch light, was your grandmother’s house. With her stone walls and wooden roof were covered in moss and mushrooms, while her red painted door was visible. You pick up your pace, stumbling occasionally as you reach her rickety wooden porch, a wide grin upon your lips as you knock on the old door.
"Grandma!" You call through the wood, yet no reply. You grab the gold doorknob, turning it and slowly pushing the door inside, letting yourself in.
It’s the same as you remember, with the fireplace on, with fresh logs. There was no collection of dust, and the couch looked recently sat on. Her throw blanket and decor pillows were out of place. You close the door behind you, slipping off your shoes, and placed the basket on the dining room table. While undoing the strings of your cape and calling out to your grandma. You move deeper into her home, before reaching her bedroom. You knock.
"Oh, darling! I’m feeling quite sick, but come in. Come in." Her voice sounds the same, and your tense shoulders drop, as a smile spreads across your face as you open the door. Only to find her bed empty and made, with the window wide open. You step further into the room, looking around, before you hear a soft click and you spin around, only to find the lion beastman from before. He isn’t looking at you, but instead squeezing a small bird.
"Mimic birds are quite useful. Able to mimic to the voice of anyone and anything once they hear it." He releases the bird, and it frantically flies out the window. You step back. "You—My grandma!" You suck in a panicked breath and the man only shrugs. Striding his way towards you, his hand moving faster than you could comprehend to grab your face and squeeze your cheeks.
"What do you think—" His free arm slides around your waist and forces your close, you try to push him away, "I did. Maybe I ate her. Gobbled her up like a big bad wolf," He faux pouts before clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes in personal annoyance, "Or lion, that fits better doesn’t it." He shakes your head aggressively, speaking like a mother would to a child when they’re fussy,
"Maybe ill eat you up. Wouldn’t you just like that—" He lets you break away with a laugh, watching your glare, and he tilts his head and eyes moving out the window.
You can hear horses.
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ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.
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cvlutos · 1 year
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TWISTED WONDERLAND: VAMPIRE AU
WARNINGS: Characters 18+ | Blood | Aggression | Mentions of Violence | Implied Kidnapping | Yandere | Dark Content | Etc | Proceed with Caution, Dove |
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OVERVIEW:
Vampires have existed for millennia. Evolving. Just as humans do, spread all across Twisted Wonderland. With the ability to drink blood. Shapeshift. Immortality. Control minds. To grow and expand.
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There are several breeds of vampires.
——Pure-Bloods: They are the First Vampires to Exist. They have that of royal blood within them. The purest vampires can turn humans and half-bloods into full-blooded vampires. They’re rarely ever seen, and many believe them to be extinct or simply choose to hide from society, both humans and vampires. Not much is known about them, but to fear and or respect them. 
——Full-Bloods: Humans or Half-Blood Vampires that were turned into Full-bloods by the Purest Form of Vampires. They’re also born from two Full-bloods. Most Full-bloods run large covens and form families with other Full-Bloods and create their own hierarchy. They can also turn humans into a lesser form of vampires.
——Half-Blood: Born from a Vampire and a Human. They’re very similar to Full-Bloods, but can also walk within the sun, unlike Full-Bloods. They have a harder time controlling their urges for blood and are seen as a disgrace amongst certain vampiric communities. Most Half-Bloods are killed before they can fully grow or before they're even born.
——Hybrids: Born from a Vampire and a different Non-Human Species. They’re especially rare and insanely strong, with a mix of vampiric powers, and whatever else they’re mixed with. You can’t tell most have vampire blood within them since it’s rare for them to feel certain instincts unless they’re around a general weakness. 
——Turned: Humans were bitten by a Full-Blood and drank their blood in return. This makes the once human, now forever tied to the vampire that turned them. 
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COVEN HEARTSLABYUL:
Located within a land of mazes and roses. Heartslabyul is by far the largest coven. Taking in all those that seek refuge as long as they can provide. Most of those that live within the large manor, was on the verge of death, before pledging their life to Riddle Rosehearts. Heartslabyul is strict, yet doesn’t hide away from humans. Instead, they keep to themselves and are cordial.
Coven Leader: Riddle Rosehearts
—Vampiric Breed: Full-Blood Vampire [Turned by Malleus Draconia]
—Age: 219 [Turned at age 19]
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Yes. [Only when Donated and or Given.]
Born as a human and studied Vampiric Law, he often spoke up and out for Vampires and other supernatural creatures. Making him a prime target of hate within the Queendom of Roses. During his work, he was attacked and nearly left for dead, before Malleus found him. Both meeting once by chance and having mutual respect, Malleus offered to turn him into a Full-Blood and Riddle agreed. Riddle soon went on then to gather others, similar to him, and created a home for the rejected. He still follows his rules, that the immortal and mortal can coexist.
Right Hand: Trey Clover
—Vampiric Breed: Turned Vampire [Turned by Riddle Rosehearts]
—Age: 218
—Does he Drink Human Blood: No. [Only animal blood]
Born as a human, and a close friend to Riddle. Offering to help him no matter what, and staying by his side. He was the one who asked Riddle to turn him so that he could be of greater use. Many view him as human, and see nothing out of the ordinary. Seeing as he drinks only animal blood.
Key Figures:
Cater Diamond
—Vampiric Breed: Turned Vampire [Turned by Riddle Rosehearts]
—Age: 128
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Sometimes.
Born as a human, and was close to death. He was running out of his home and was on the run. Riddle gave him a safe home and turned to him.
Ace Trappola
—Vampiric Breed: Half-Blood Vampire
--Age: 156
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Yes.
His mother was a human and his father a vampire. He lived an average life until his village was attacked and he was ran out of his village. He lived as a rogue for years, before Riddle found him and offered him a home.
Deuce Spade
—Vampiric Breed: Turned Vampire [Turned by Rouge Full-Blood]
—Age: 108 
—Does he Drink Human Blood: No. [Tempted]
Born as a human, his village was attacked, and he was saved by a rogue vampire. Who enjoyed him and used him to participate in other village raids. He couldn’t fight against the Vampire and was forced to hurt humans until Riddle found the rogue and killed him. Ultimately saving Deuce
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COVEN SAVANNACLAW:
Located within a land of savannas and jungles. SavannaClaw is the 2nd largest coven. A coven that still participates in the old ways of drinking blood, but they as well interact with humans on occasion. They’re very secluded and keep to themselves. Yet he’s seen as a monster in human form. Savannaclaw is wild, with their only rules being to protect the weak, but they follow the rules of the world. 
Coven Leader: Leona Kingscholar
—Vampiric Breed: Hybrid Vampire
—Age: 421
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Yes.
His mother was a lion beastman, and his father was a vampiric lion beastman, a hybrid. Born as the 2nd Prince, as an outcast, Leona soon left home and ran into the past vampire hybrid that ruled SavannaClaw. The two didn’t get along, and Leona decided he wanted the position, and thus killed the old leader and took his place easily.
Right Hand: Ruggie Bucchi
—Vampiric Breed: Turned Vampire [Turned by Leona Kingscholar]
—Age: 326
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Sometimes.
A thief that tried to steal from Leona, only to be caught and almost killed. Leona decided to take pity in turn, that Ruggie listen to his every whim and desire. Which the hyena beastman did and did well. So Leona turned to him and kept him by his side.
Key Figures:
Jack Howl
—Vampiric Breed: Full-Blooded Vampire [Turned By Vil Schoenheit]
—Age: 119
—Does he Drink Human Blood: No.
Friends with Vil Schoenheit, he became a vampire willingly, until betrayed. He ran away from the Pomefiore coven and stumbled across SavannaClaw. Though he is seen as an outcast for his association with Vil. 
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COVEN OCTAVINELLE:
Located within the oceans and deep sea. Octavinelle is the 2nd smallest coven. A coven that still participates in the ways of the ocean. In the harshness, the absolute violence. They don’t interact with humans, they only view humans as food. Blood bags. Yet they sometimes pretend to be seen as humans to lure. They’re very secluded, yet pretend to be accepting. Yet this coven has many traitors, all which escape to the Scarabia Coven.
Coven Leader: Azul Ashengrotto
—Vampiric Breed: Hybrid Vampire
—Age: 326
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Yes.
Born from an octopus and vampire, he spends most of his time ignoring the portion of him that's a a vampire and often rejects it. He often vows about the separation of vampires, humans, and other merpeople and beastmen. He believes that they should remain separate and not intermingle. He has grown quite a fraction and even those non-merpeople align with his ideas.
Right Hand: Jade Leech
—Vampiric Breed: Hybrid Vampire
—Age: 329
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Yes
Carries out all of Azul’s orders. Though he doesn’t share the same sentiment. He likes the idea that humans, vampires, and merpeople mingle. He finds it entertaining in what mixes can create. Yet he doesn’t deny that the separation also brings entertainment. He truly doesn’t care either way.
Key Figures:
Floyd Leech
—Vampiric Breed: Hybrid Vampire
—Age: 329
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Yes
Enjoys the chaos. Enjoys the violence. He likes the part of him that is a vampire and everyone knows as much. He doesn’t hide it. Many of those within Octavinelle view him as a traitor, yet can’t do anything about it.
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COVEN SCARABIA:
Located within the heated deserts. The third largest coven that houses not only vampires, but humans, and anyone else. One of the safest covens that accepts vampires, everyone and everything. They don’t participate in violence nor anything else and keep to themselves, while offering help. An extremely safe coven. 
Coven Leader: Kalim Al-Asim
—Vampiric Breed: Full-Blooded Vampire
—Age: 230
—Does he Drink Human Blood: No.
Kalim Al-Asim was born as a half-blood but his mother turned him into a full-blooded vampire. He keeps up the already functioning traditions of working alongside humans and offering them homes. He is kind and sweet and often houses vampires and humans, protecting them from other covens. Which also makes him disagreeable to covens with traitorous vampires and or humans.
Right Hand: Jamil Viper
—Vampiric Breed: Turned Vampire [Turned by Kalim Al-Asim]
—Age: 226
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Yes.
Born human and turned by Kalim at a young age to bind the two together for a lifetime together. Not much is known about Jamil except that he is a dedicated and faithful servant.
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COVEN POMEFIORE:
Located within the frigid mountains and pretty forests. One of the most popular covens where vampires and humans mingle. Where pleasure, beauty, lust and love thrive. With a large population of turned vampires who wished to be turned. The entire city is a coven. Most don’t know that they stepped into the Coven.
Coven Leader: Vil Schoenheit
—Vampiric Breed: Pure-Blood Vampire
—Age: 419
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Yes.
One of the only known Pure-Bloods that constantly mingles with humans. Seens as a very selfish vampire that loves the blood of beautiful men and women, and only accepts those of beauty into his coven. He’s harsh and almost antagonistic, yet well beloved.
Right Hand: Rook Hunt
—Vampiric Breed: Full Blooded Vampire [Turned by Vil Schoenheit]
—Age: 410
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Yes.
Once a human that went to Vil and asked to be a vampire. Promising to devote his very life to Vil. He’s odd, and no one knows much about him except that the coven of SavannaClaw hates him.
Key Figures:
Epel Felmier
—Vampiric Breed: Turned Vampire [Turned by Vil Schoenheit]
—Age: 329
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Yes
A human that fled to the Pomefiore Coven to escape a group of vampires that assumed he was a woman. Yet unaware that Pomefiore doesn’t do kind deeds without being repaid. So in turn for Epel’s protection, he turned him into a vampire.
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COVEN IGNIHYDE:
Located within misty mountains and underground caves. It's a small and very forgettable coven. With very few vampires. Most are unaware of its existence and it’s more of a myth than an actual coven.
Coven Leader: Idia Shroud
—Vampiric Breed: Pure-Blood Vampire
—Age: 521
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Sometimes.
Loner Pure-Blood that fits the description of unknown. He purposely chooses to remain hidden away and secret from the world. Yet his caves are insanely eccentric and house the most advanced technology in the world. All built by him.
Right Hand: Ortho Shroud
—Vampiric Breed: ?????
—Age: 494
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Yes.
No one is sure of what Ortho is and settles that he’s a machine but needs blood to run his systems. Odd.
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COVEN DIASOMNIA:
Location is unknown. Everything about Diasomnia is unknown except the name and that no humans can ever join them.
Coven Leader: Malleus Draconia
—Vampiric Breed: Pure-Blood Vampire
—Age: 632
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Sometimes.
The oldest known direct descendant of a royal Pure-Blood line. Yet no one has seen his face, they know that all covens must bow down to him and only him.
Right Hand: Lilia Vanrouge
—Vampiric Breed: Pure-Blood Vampire
—Age: ????
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Yes.
He’s existed forever, some even believe before Malleus. In a time of war and heartache, yet many are unsure and don’t bother to learn from the strange vampire.
Key Figures:
Silver
—Vampiric Breed: Turned Vampire [Turned by Lilia Vanrouge]
—Age: 253
—Does he Drink Human Blood: No
A human that is bound to Malleus. There’s not much more to him, is there?
Sebek Zigvolt
—Vampiric Breed: Half-Blood Vampire
—Age: 248
—Does he Drink Human Blood: Yes.
Very proudly, does he hate humans. And very proudly does he drink their blood to show clear superiority. Even though human blood exists within his veins. Malleus and Lilia have both refused to change him fully.
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—NRC [NIGHT RAVEN COVEN]: The meeting place of all Covens. All coven leaders and their selected members must gather to fix grudges and prevent coven wars.
—RSA [ROYAL SWORD ASYLUM]: Those that protect humans from vampires and fight against the spreading of covens. Some believe that RSA is trying to learn a way to unturn vampires and return them back to humans.
—NBC [NOBLE BELL CHURCH]: Vampires are demonic and NBC specializes in raising vampire hunters. They are quite successful in their talents.
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“NRC asks for our presence. You will accompany us.”
His words are familiar demands, yet they have no force behind them, no sneer, no anger, no threat. Yet a demand in which he stares, with eyes of emerald, with the slightest hint of red. You merely nod, back still towards him. Keeping your eyes on the black lacy pattern of the tablecloth, feeling fangs pierce deeper into your wrist. You grimace. There is no pleasure that comes when giving blood, not if the one taking does not desire it. And he is keen on taking without giving.
“Sebek~ Be a little gentle. Before you hurt our little Dove.” A different voice, one that is sultry, purring almost, as he sits across the dining table, elbows pressed against the wood and chin within his palms. Yet magenta eyes are ever so amused.
No matter how much you hate that nickname, he continues to refer to you as such. You wince as the man nearly growls, annoyed by his elders words, yet listening. Feeling his teeth leave your skin and listening to his heavy exhale, steam rolling past his lips as he relishes in the moment. You pull your wrist away, using the already red splotchy towel to cover the wound, a towel that has been used two times prior to this moment. The pain is quick to fade, yet you know the marks won’t. They never do.
“Dove. Did you hear me?”
You turn to your capture. The one who said your blood had the sweetest smell and the most unique taste. The best type to every grace of his immortal tongue. That made him feel almost human again. Almost. He leans back in his chair, sitting at the head of the table, one that isn’t any different from the others, yet seems like a throne amongst mere stools. Staring with unblinking eyes, as he holds a half empty wine glass, one that he occasionally sips. “… Yes… My Lord…” The words are forced past your lips as your semi-bow, rising your seat, still gingerly covering your arm. He dismisses you with a simple nod, yet a promise to visit later.
Cause blood in his glass is merely never enough to satisfy him.
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ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.
491 notes · View notes
cvlutos · 1 year
Text
TWISTED WONDERLAND: MOULIN ROUGE
WARNINGS: Dark Content | Sexual Themes | Implied Prostetution | Violence | Yandere | Etc. | Proceed with Caution Dearest. | Inspired By Lovely @elenamegan14, who I absolutely adore.
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═ PROLOGUE ═
DEAREST ARISTOTLE FAMILY,
Hello Aristotle Family, I have received word that your father, James Aristotle, has passed, truly a sad day and I give you time to grieve. Yet time is money and I fear that a certain family, your family to be exact, is still quite indebted to me. I do send my condolences. Though fear not, it is not much I desire from you, dear Aristotle family.
I ask for your eldest child to be sent to NRC and aid me. You needn’t know why, but they will indeed be safe. All that the eldest needs to bring are whatever they desire. Shelter and all other needs will be provided. Within this envelope contains a special boating ticket and I do hope you do not lose this. I expect the eldest child to arrive before the end of fall.
I’ll Be Waiting,
DIRE CROWLEY
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Pulling the fabric of your thick coat closer to your form, your luggage trapped between your legs as your sit on the deck of the large ship. It’s crowded, all eager to board off the boat and onto what one would consider paradise island. It’s dark and unseeable. Yet the anticipation is tastable, like fresh oranges, and you can already taste the citrus without having to bite it. We all sit in the dark, for the inside of the boat is only for the rich, nobles, and royalty. Not poor underdressed commoners. With little to their name. We are forced to be outside like dogs. The sun set hours ago, and the moon missing as if stolen from the sky. The only thing illuminating the path is the ship lights at shine onto the fog-covered ink of the ocean.
Consider yourself lucky.
A letter was sent from none other than Dire Crowley, owner of NRC. Night Raven Club or Night Raven Coterie. It rests heavy within the inside of your coat, as do the thoughts of worry and fear in what you have to do for Dire Crowley. NRC is a notoriously dangerous, yet lavish place, having been around for generations. It’s also known for draining the very pockets of men and women alike, leaving those same men and women begging for scraps along the island, begging to be able to get back into the club, like drug addicts going through withdrawals. Until the next boat arrives to take them home. Though most go kicking and screaming, dragged onto the ship. Yet the boat itself is unpredictable and unreliable. Once you’re on the island, you can’t get off, at least not easily.
People have gambled away all they have and all they are. Truly a dangerous place.
Consider yourself one in a million.
Crowley had sent you a special invitation, promising a beautiful bedroom for your stay, for as long as you carried out whatever he needed to be done. Though, this letter wasn’t for you directly, but for your family. Due to your father, a man who so desperately sold off almost everything to NRC, leaving his wife and children in ruins, and went crawling to Crowley for it all back. Your father believes Dire Crowley to be a kind man. A very kind, gracious man, that understands and is oh so forgiving. So Dire Crowley did what your father asked, gave back all that your father foolishly lost. Though not without something in exchange. Your family would forever be indebted to the man named Dire Crowley, and would do all he needed to be done when he asked. A deal could last generations if Dire Crowley so wished.
Your father has passed. Escaped the consequences of his actions, so you, as the eldest, must do what your father can’t.
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Night Raven Coterie.
The Club of Twisted Imagination.
It’s a name everyone knows. A name that you either despise or worship. Like a whiskey that burns your throat when you drink it, so painful, but so good. It’s a name that lulls you into eternal sleep. That burns your skin worse than that of the bluest flames. That poisons you and kills you. That leaves you stranded in the desert with nothing but the clothes on your back. That drags you into the deepest parts of the ocean or lures you into the hungry den of lions. Or a heavy collar that restricts who you are.
With its great seven-standing beauties and the poor souls trapped within its confines. Unable to escape. Unable to ever be free.
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Heartslabyul.
Strictness.
Order. Order. Order. Rules. Rules. Rules. Nothing more. Nothing less. This club room is almost as twisted as the island. With 810 rules, written and posted on the walls before you enter the room that rests beyond the crimson-red door. Tables and chairs were all placed orderly, with red painted roses in the center. It’s almost like a never-ending tea party. All were directed towards a stage of checkered patterns of red and white, with heavy velvet curtains hiding the stage. Til the exact moment, exactly with the clock, do the curtains open.
The Queen’s Arrival.
Riddle Rosehearts, The Red Rose Tyrant.
Short in stature but large in presence. A boyish, arrogant look as he entertains and dances across the stage before strutting down the catwalk and onto a smaller circular stage. Closer to you. Closer to the rich and desperate people. Begging to be hit by his leather riding crop, begging for him to look down on them with a sneer. He’s alluring, sweeter than the sweetest tart, and scolding like freshly brewed tea. He’s merciless. Unforgiving. Bad-Tempered. Selfish. Spoiled. A sadist that ties sinful men and women to their chairs and punishes them. He’s cruel and all things within that room, behind that door, the door in the color of blood-painted roses, must be orderly.
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SavannaClaw.
Perseverance.
Wild and Free. Bathing in the coolness of the Savanna freshwater springs. It’s loud and in constant motion. It’s rowdy and not for that of fate of heart. A more hands-on experience, with colors of browns and yellows. With floral from the savanna decorating the hot and steaming room, it’s the perfect place for fights. For arguments. With no tables or chairs, most men and women find themselves staring up at the stage, bodies close and compact. Like an herd a suspecting prey. Until a sudden roar sends everyone into a frenzy.
The Roar of a King.
Leona Kingscholar, The King of Beasts.
With a cocky smirk and emerald eyes, he stalks onto the stage. Displaying nothing but power. Nothing but strength. Barely dressed with anything, yet leaves you begging for more. Pleading for the lion beastman to drag you onto stage and ravish you. He dances feverishly and leaves you stubbing out the door, or passing out amongst a wall, drenched in sweat. He’s confident, so cocky in his position as Prince. Ordering you to follow and listen, and you do. He’s the bad boy, a predator to prey. The lion hiding within the tall grass. There are no rules in the savanna. There are no rules. Once you open the burnt yellow-colored door, any and all could happen. Only pray that you survive.
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Octavinelle.
Benevolence.
Deep and cool within the darkest depths of the ocean. Of smooth jazz and a nightclub atmosphere. Soft lighting and candles. Many call this the Mostro Lounge, though the clubroom has its special performances. Most times, it has an average audience. A break from the other rooms of NRC’s the Great Seven, a place of twisted relaxation that comes with a price. Soft cushioned seats, all well dressed, well behaved, till the siren sound begins and comes the beauty of the depth.
The Emergence of the Sea Witch.
Azul Ashengrotto, The Deep-Sea Merchant.
Seduction at its finest. An alluring smile and charming voice, as if had eight arms that pulled you onto the stage. His moves hypnotizing as he gracefully moves across, like a fish in water. Simple, soft, seductive. Drowning in the embellishments of his voice, till you, his chosen one makes it onto stage and he dances around you. Constricts you in the tentacles in this voice, luring you into false, calm waters before the climax. A loud symphony of instruments and heat. Like the arrival of a new storm. The only thing that can save lies within a golden contract, one in which you only have to sign your name. All this lies within the deep, lies behind the lilac purple door.
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Scarabia.
Mindfulness.
Energetic. A party all day, every day. A truly freeing place that makes you want to do nothing but dance and jive. But to dance and spin around several unique dance partners. Or sing and listen to the various instruments, from the thrumming of drums to the strings of guitars. The smell of the sun and the taste of spice, the sound of jewelry being thrown and forgotten, till you dance and find yourself naked. Your clothing and all your money gone from you. Til none other than the diamond in the rough appears.
Like the sound of sand in an hourglass,
Kalim Al-Asim, The Cave of Wonder’s Diamond
All that is left behind disappears into the sand of the fourth room. As the sway of energetic hands and hips brings you into a hypnotizing stare, as he moves across the room, with a smile on his face. He has an innocent aura, but aside from the overly friendly touches, he doesn’t seem all that innocent. He gives you all you desire; all that you want and beg for. You’ll forgive him for all that’s stolen. With desperate hands and desperate voices, begging him to do this and to dance this way, he obeys. Like a mouse, ready to be swallowed by the snake. Greed to appease you all. All awaits you within the land of sands, behind the door of orange.
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Pomefiore
Tenacity.
The room of pure perfection and poison. Of dark violets and bold red. With nothing, the smell of intoxicating perfume and caramel apples that were to die for. Everything within this room is beautiful. So perfect. With little room for sitting, but all the room for an enormous stage and a special performance for those who could afford it. Not just anyone can waltz into the room of beauty, it’s come with a deadly cost, and the beauty will get what is owed.
A Poisonous smoke that chokes you.
Vil Schoenheit, The Fairest Queen.
Slow. Seductive. Like aphrodisiacs had been pumped straight into your veins as he sings. It’s hot, as have you squirm in your seat, gasping for air, for relief at any movement he makes. Any roll of his hips, the dragging of his hands, the deepness of his voice. Yet you feel tied to your sit, unable to move as he poisons your very blood. Mirrors placed all across the room, showing you your own patheticness as you watch him dance. As you lean into his tempting touch only for him to pull away and the intoxicating show to end and you must leave the room behind the door of dark purple and deep red.
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Ignihyde.
Diligence.
A room of technology. Yet never the main show. Don’t expect much when arriving, for the main show never seems to appear. It’s a dead room most nights, with only a few there to sit and relax in silence. Now don’t be mistaken. An audience waits on his beck and call, waiting souls for the moment he announces he desires to perform. On the nights he does, it’s packed, people upon people, pushing and shoving to get a glimpse of him.
The Cries of the Dead.
Idia Shroud, The King of the Underworld
Like cries and mourning of the King of the Dead, begging for just a small feeling of his leather boots, just to slightly touch. As he degrades his audience for being so desperate for him. Deep and brooding, hot and heavy. It’s loud and last hours before it dies down and he once again retreats. Spending most of his time entertaining his fans with calls and private appearances. Truly a costly performance. One that you will pay with your life behind the door of blue.
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Lastly, Diasomnia.
Nobility.
Truly a hard room to find. Only those that are deemed worthy can find the door of green and watch what happens beyond. With candles of green flames and music that feed on you, leave you drowsy. Slumping in seats, allowing whomever to do what they please with you. Though the room is classy, truly the place of nobility, as the sound of trumpets brings your attention to the stage.
The Royalty of a Dragon.
Malleus Draconia, The King of Briar Valley.
It’s stranger than most. Whether he chooses to do an alluring dance or to sing into a mic. Maybe he’ll choose to play the violin, or simply read a book. Anything he chooses to do with being done gracefully. And be completely unforgettable. Treating each of his guests like royalty, treating each of them like prized treasure in his cave. He’s loving, yet so fierce. Yet not a sight for just anyone. You must be lucky. Special. One in a Million to find the door of green and push past painful thorns.
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Prepare yourself, [Name] [Surname] of the Aristotle Family.
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ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited
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cvlutos · 1 year
Text
"Meet My Family"
| Repost: 01.12.23 | 1.2 K | Mature |
Silver X Fem!Reader
| GN Pronouns | Characters 18+ | Use of ‘Girlfriend’ | Dark Content | Yandere | Sexual Themes | Implied Kidnapping | Spying | Crying | Sharing | Etc. | Proceed with Caution, Dearest. |
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Diasomnia knows all about you.
They know you so well yet haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you. They know the sound of your voice when you argue and fight with Silver. They know when you cry and beg for freedom. They hear your sweet voice when Silver opens the door, and it’s unmuffled as you greet him. Something they know Silver wished for you to do.
They know how much you hate walking the halls of Diasomnia and how much you hate it there. It hurts their heart, but they leave you be. At least to a certain extent. Silver wants you to grow to like Diasomnia on your own. Even in his own blind delusion, he is kind.
"They wish to meet you..." His words are calm, monotone as your get ready for bed. The only true power that you have in this entire world, it seems. Silver changes into his pajamas, glancing at you occasionally. Waiting for an answer, an answer he already knows.
"They’re my family. I want them to adore you as much as I adore you." He turns to face you, watching you slip into bed, ignoring his existence completely. He lets out a tired sigh, moving over to the bed, and gently tugging on the blankets. "... please... I wish to do this the right way."
As if he hadn’t kidnapped you and shoved you into his room. As if he hasn’t basically bound you to the title of ‘girlfriend’ in his delusions. Yet he wants to act like you both are lovers.
True lovers.
"... [Name]..." His voice is serious, treading the line of annoyance.
You should be grateful, he’s not abusive. Not destructive. Always soft-spoken. He’s charming. Yet you know that if he desires to simply drag out of bed, and drag you by the leg down the dark halls, til he reached the common room he could.
"Do whatever you want...." It’s futile to continue arguing and you know that, as Silver slides into bed beside you. Not hesitating to place a burning kiss on your cheek, even if your body stiffens as he holds you.
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Diasomnia knows all about you.
The food, cooked and placed, on the large dining table, Malleus sitting at the head with unmatched eagerness, not shone on his neutral expression, but his eyes seemed to have a dangerous glow.
Lilia sits to the side of him, nearly bouncing in his seat, fangs on full display with his wide smile. While Sebek sits across from him, arms crossed and a scowl etched across his fingers. Yet he seems impatient as he listens.
They can hear Silver’s voice down the hall, and two sets of footsteps. His and yours.
The air seems to buzz with desire and anticipation. The doors of the dining room open to reveal a well-dressed Silver and you. Pretty gorgeous you. Silver’s girlfriend.
You stand nervously, all dressed up to meet your boyfriend’s family. Yet before you can even open your mouth, Malleus is striding across the room, taking note of your heightened panicked heartbeat and taking your hand. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."
You want to say nothing; you want to pull away and turn around as his emerald green eyes bore into yours. You feel the gentle, threatening squeeze from Silver. Warning you not to disrespect his master. His prince.
"… It’s nice to meet you as well, Prince Malleus…" The words come off as robotic, turning your gaze away.
"I have heard so much about you. Silver talks about you often." Malleus’ grip is tight. Bringing your gaze back to him, he observes your reaction before pulling away with a narrow smile.
He’s the main reason you hate Diasomnia. Cause of the dragon that roams the halls. The dragon that lingers outside the door, silently, as if enticing you to let him inside.
"[Name], this is my father. Lilia."
Another that you’re familiar with, he floats to your side with a far too wide grin. Pulling you into a hug and crushing you. "I am so so so happy to finally see you up close! Aren’t you just the cutest thing!" He pinches your cheeks happily, uncaring of your uncomfortable posture.
He’s one you seen up close, one that waits outside the window that you keep shut, always. He’s pulling both you and Silver to the table, rambling about the food and the never-ending excitement he has. Sitting you directly beside him and Silver sitting next to Sebek, another one that you hate.
He’s the one that’s yelled at you through the door when you first arrived. Yelling at you to be silent and that your sobs would annoy his Lord. He spares not a glance and looks at the plate before him. You move your gaze to the porcelain plate, the aroma of food wafting into your nose.
"It’s your favorite, Dove." Silver reaches for your hand, using that nickname that you’ve always hated. You bite your tongue, grabbing his hand, feeling him squeeze it.
A part of you wishes, he’d simply fall asleep like he used to. Yet he doesn’t, at least no longer, in your presence. You don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. That is the mentality you hold as the dinner drags on. They speak and chat as if it was a normal evening, a normal dinner, as if they didn’t know of the atrocities that Silver committed to getting you here.
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Diasomnia knows all about you and they love you.
The door to Silver’s bedroom never stays closed. Even when you try to barricade, it shut on the days Silver is late. In the morning, you’ll find all the furniture back in place and the door unlocked, with Silver sleeping peacefully beside you.
You’ll grow to love Diasomnia, they know you will.
In the mornings, you’re awoken by Silver, with soft groggy mummers of love and kisses, even if you try to pull away. It seems to last hours before the door is slammed open to Sebek, yelling a harsh wake-up, only to go red in the face and stammering, earning a tired chuckle from Silver.
You’ll get ready together. Brush your teeth together, do your hair, get dressed, all of it. With him sticking to your side with an invisible grin, happy that you don’t fight him on the normal routine. Happy that you treat him like a boyfriend.
Because why fight when you have no chance of winning?
Eating breakfast with all four, Lilia makes something completely inedible before Sebek swoops in secretly behind him. Creating edible food. Lilia trying to spoon-feed you, trying to pinch your cheeks when you comply. Whilst Malleus seems to bask in the rare sunlight through the large window, like a lizard. Drinking coffee that he urges you to make. Coffee you’re sure he doesn’t need.
In the mornings, you’ll sit behind the towering building of Diasomnia, sitting on steps watching Silver and Sebek train. While Malleus waters his dead and poisonous garden or sits beside you on the steps. While Lilia does whatever the fae does, sometimes he reads whatever he finds interesting, or maybe he’ll manage the two knights in training.
Diasomnia knows all about you.
They know you so well and only want to know you better. Why deny them of that pleasure? Even if they sometimes stand too close, or sometimes hold you too tight. You’ll grow to love the place you hate, even if you have no choice. Even as they lure you into one of their bedrooms, even as Silver lets them. Since families always share and Silver is okay with sharing.
Far too okay with sharing his girlfriend.
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ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.
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