bitemevanitas

[bitemevanitas]

🧿 MASTERLIST

FYI: My account is generally meant for all audiences, but nonetheless, anything NSFW is tagged with a [🚩], so read at your own risk.

✯☆✩✯☆✩✯☆✩✯☆✩✯☆✩✯☆✩✯☆✩✯☆✩

Vanitas x Reader

• 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐱 𝐑𝐞̂𝐯𝐞𝐬

• 𝐓𝐮 𝐕𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐞𝐮𝐫

• 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐞́𝐞

• 𝐋'𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐞 𝐋'𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

• 𝐔𝐧𝐞 𝐄́𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞 [🚩]

• 𝐕𝐨𝐭𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐫

• 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐭

• 𝐔𝐧𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐞 𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬

• 𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐧

• 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐀𝐮 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐭.1

• 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐀𝐮 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐭.2

• 𝐋'𝐄𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞-𝐀𝐠𝐢𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐬

• 𝐄𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐮 𝐂𝐨𝐞𝐮𝐫

• 𝐀 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

• 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐪𝐮̂𝐫𝐞

• 𝐄𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐄𝐦𝐛𝐞̂𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭

• 𝐌𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐨𝐮𝐱 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐜̧𝐨𝐧

• 𝐄̂𝐭𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐢𝐦𝐞̂

• 𝐃𝐞𝐬 𝐘𝐞𝐮𝐱 𝐇𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬

• 𝐔𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐋𝐚̂𝐦𝐞

• 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐀 𝐒𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞

• 𝐁𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐄𝐭 𝐂𝐚̂𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐓𝐨𝐢

• 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡

• 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐫 𝐋𝐞 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫

• 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥 (𝐓𝐇𝐖𝐓𝐒𝐖𝐑 𝐇𝐂𝐬)

• 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐒𝐨 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲

• 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐅𝐞́𝐞

Noé x Reader

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Various Characters/Headcanons

• 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐀 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞

• 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲?

• 𝐀𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

• 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤-𝐔𝐩 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

• 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 ♡︎

• 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐎𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠

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My VNC OCs

» My Original Characters, their Personal Descriptions, and OC Art

• 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐝'𝐀𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐮

�� 𝐆𝐢𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐢

• 𝐒𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧

• 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐫

• 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐳𝐨

• 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐬

Dominique x Reader

• 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭'𝐬 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬

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Canon Compliant Stories

• 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐦 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬

• 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧

• 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬

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Shenanigans + Writings

• 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐐𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

• 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐜𝐤 & 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐦𝐞

• 𝐓𝐨𝐩 3 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 "𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐚"

• 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲

• 𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧

• 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬? 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐲???

Art Posts/Fanfiction Art

• 𝐏𝐚𝐩𝐚'𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐭

• 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬'𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

• 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐦, 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐦...

• 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐚 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐥

• 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫

• @theofficialwindy 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐭

• 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 @theofficialwindy

Fanfiction Lore [Dusk Till Seine]

• 𝐋𝐚 𝐈̂𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐱 𝐍𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐬

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VaniJeanne Content

• 𝐁𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐮 𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐎𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐮

• 𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚́ 𝐥𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬

• 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 & 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐀𝐔

• 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

• 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐞́𝐧𝐮𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐫

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Roland x Reader

• 𝐔𝐧 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞 𝐀́ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬

• 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐝'𝐀𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭

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Singular Character Headcanons

• 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

• 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭

• 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬

• 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

• 𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐞𝐬, 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐜̧𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐮

• 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

• 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

• 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

• 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

• 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

• 𝐍𝐨𝐞́ 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

• 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

• 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐧 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

• 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Special AUs

• 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞 - 𝐋𝐲𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐩𝐭.1

• 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞 - 𝐋𝐲𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐩𝐭.2

• 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧!𝐀𝐔 - 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬'𝐬 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞

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OC x Canon

• 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 & 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝

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Answering Asks

• 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩?

• 𝐎𝐂 𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 ♡︎

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» 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗎𝗉𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾

[bitemevanitas]

🎭 Sophie von Arnstein

𝙾𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜

"𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑰 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒗𝒐𝒘𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉."

Trivia

• 𝖥𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖭𝖺𝗆𝖾: Sophie Karoline von Arnstein

• 𝖲𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗌: Human

• 𝖯𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖠𝗀𝖾: 17 y/o (often perceived as younger)

• 𝖢𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖠𝗀𝖾: 17 y/o

• 𝖣𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖡𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁: November 28 (1872, Austria)

• 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖢𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖱𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾: Hotel Terminus

• 𝖥𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖱𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾: Le Meurice, founded in 1835 on the Rue de Rivoli

• 𝖮𝖼𝖼𝗎𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇: Chasseur in Training

Origins & Heritage

• Place of Birth: Linz, in the year 1872

• Time of Birth: The afternoon of her father's birthday

• Family line: An old Austrian noble family rooted in upper Austria (Linz). Minor aristocracy, known historically for being wealthy patrons of the Church and military loyalists of the Habsburg Monarchy. Their status declined after the Napoleonic Wars due to heavy war taxes and poor political alliances.

• Notable relatives: Mother Mathilde

Family & Upbringing

𝗠𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿

• Baroness Mathilde von Arnstein (née Leuchtenberg) - distantly related to Eugéne de Beauharnais, son of Joséphine and stepson of Napoléon Bonaparte

𝗙𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿

• Baron Eduard von Arnstein - a traditionalist and retired officer of the Austro-Hungarian Army. He died in 1888 due to complications from pneumonia and was inevitably the final catalyst for Sophie to flee the family.

𝗦𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀

• Augustus (21), Leonard (14), Maximilian (10)

Upbringing Location

• Place of Birth: Schloss Arnstein (Arnstein Manor) in the countryside of Linz

• Sophia was born in the late afternoon during an extravagant celebration for her father's birthday at Schloss Arnstein. Her arrival was unexpectedly early and drew attention away from the patriarch's festivities - something her mother would later reference passive-aggressively throughout Sophie's life.

Symbolism & Aversion

• Being Trapped (Emotionally/Physically): Tied to her experience of being pushed toward marriage. Any mention of losing autonomy or "belonging to" someone deeply upsets her.

• Sudden Loud Male Voices/Yelling: Her father was prone to outbursts. Shouting, especially from older men, can cause her to freeze or cry involuntarily.

Combat & Weaponry

• Weapon of Choice: A custom-concealed dagger

• Disguised as: It's hidden in the spine of a fake book called "Lieder der Nacht" - "Songs of The Night"

• The book is a replica of Sophie's favourite bedtime story book, which was gifted to her by her favourite aunt, Charlotte. The pages are real but thin and treated with wax.

Hobbies & Passions

• Literature & Philosophy: She collects poetry in all languages, even if she doesn't understand all of it, particularly Schiller and Hölderlin

• Sketching: Draws people while they're not looking. Has small portraits of Marceline, Giulia, and even Dante

• Botany: Much like Marceline, Sophie is interested in flower language, although mainly medicinal herbs strike her fancy. Sometimes wishes she could have become a healer after all

Integration Into Paris

• Sophie initially traveled to Salzburg, where she meant to disappear into a monastery. But after being denied entry for her lack of connections and understanding of the deal, she drifted toward Switzerland and eventually the capital of France

• Giulia saved her life in the Quartier Latin when a savage vampire attacked her in a small alley. The two became friends fast, despite the language barrier

• Marceline and Sophie met weeks later. They instantly connected due to Marceline's fluency in German. She would translate for Sophie, and helped her find a safer lodgings. Eventually, Sophie introduced her to Giulia

Her Ties to Canon

• Paladins: Sophie has only met two Chasseurs aside from Giulia; Astolfo Granatum and Roland Fortis

• Fun Fact: The Leuchtenberg family were real historical figures connected to the Beauharnais family. Eugéne de Beauharnais (1781-1824), married into Bavarian nobility and founded the House of Leuchtenberg. Mathilde's (Sophie's mother) family (fictionalized here) is a distant Bavarian offshoot giving her just enough prestige to constantly remind others of it

OC Connections

• Found Family: Having grown up with only brothers around her, Sophie oftwn felt alone. She has come to regard both Giulia and Marceline as her older sisters

• Theories: Sophie, much like Marceline and Giulia, believes that Vanitas is actually a vampire. After all, why would the Vampire of The Blue Moon hand their grimoire to a human? She deems him "a bit mad"

• Teachings: She was taught everything she knows about vampires by Marceline and Giulia, even though there had been many incidents involving these beasts during her childhood before

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» 𝗩𝗶𝘀𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗪𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗕𝗲 𝗔𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗱

[bitemevanitas]

✨ Giulia Mancini

𝙾𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜

"𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝑮𝒐𝒅 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒃𝒆."

- 𝖦𝗂𝗎𝗅𝗂𝖺 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 the 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 1878

Trivia

• 𝖥𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖭𝖺𝗆𝖾: Giulia Lucrezia Mancini

• 𝖲𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗌: Human

• 𝖯𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖠𝗀𝖾: 24 y/o

• 𝖢𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖠𝗀𝖾: 24 y/o

• 𝖣𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖡𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁: October 10 (1865, Italy)

• 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖢𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖱𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾: Hotel Terminus

• 𝖥𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖱𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾: Chasseur base, Paris

• 𝖮𝖼𝖼𝗎𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇: Chasseur

Origins & Heritage

• 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖡𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁: Ravenna, in the year 1865

• 𝖳𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖡𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁: One minute after midnight

• 𝖥𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾: Successor of a long line of Chasseurs

• Notable relatives: Grandfather was a Paladin

Family & Upbringing

𝘔𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳

• Cecilia Jilani (44 y/o)

𝘍𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳

• Averardo Mancini (51 y/o)

𝘚𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴

• Stefano (26), Andrea (22), Camilla Teresa (19), Francesco (17), Paolo (15)

Upbringing Location

• Place of Birth: Cimitero Comunale di Ravenna (cemetery)

• Giulia was born during the burial of her grandfather, Benedecto, who died a Paladin of the Chasseurs. After he died in France, his body was sent back to Ravenna to be buried in his homeland

Symbolism & Aversion

• After surviving a vampire attack in a collapsing tunnel beneath Orléans during a mission, she panics when confined without light or sound

• She refuses to sleep without a small light on near her to keep the darkness away

Combat & Weaponry

• Weapon of Choice: A foldable Violin Bow

• Disguised as: A lacquered dark brown and burgundy/dark red violin named "Nera Serenata"

• The violin case contains reinforced components that fold out into a composite bow used for medium-to-long-range combat. Giulia developed the bow together with Marceline. Apart from that, folded together the bow can actually be played like a regular violin, which does well to disguise the weapon behind the facade

Hobbies & Passions

• Playing the Violin: Her mother, Cecilia, taught Giulia to play the violin when she was a little girl. After all, the violin is a fine instrument to play, and Guilia strived to become as talented as her mother

• Craftsmanship: She personally maintains her gear. Her father, Averardo, was a talented and sought-out tailor back in Ravenna, before he passed away. When Giulia was little, he would teach her to sew, as well as stitch and repair any kind of material

• Scripture Study: While it could be titled as a hobby, Giulia sees this as something deeply personal. She rarely throws her belief and faith in others' faces, but in her heart, she believes all the more. She still carries her grandfather's dog-eared Latin prayerbook, with notes ib the margins

Integration Into Paris

• Giulia travelled to Paris at the age of 17, against the wishes of her mother, to become a real Chasseur, just like her grandfather was

• At first, she lived in a small room above a cobbler's shop in the 10th arondissement. Later, after the 7th of May 1889, she moved into the Hotel Terminus, a new luxury hotel in Paris

Her Ties to Canon

• Lower-level Chasseur: Formerly, Giulia reported to the 9th Paladin of the Chasseurs

• Dr. Moreau: She knows the odd man with the giant lenses who regularly looks after the children who have been rescued by Chasseurs. Something about him seems off...

OC Connections

• Marceline is one of the few friends Giulia made in Paris, ans she sees her as strong, but capable of great gentleness, despite her occasional oddities

• Giulia considers Marceline family, especially since she reminds her so much of her little sister, Camilla Teresa

• Not knowing that Marceline is a vampire, the reveal will likely strike a rift between the two of them

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» 𝖵𝗂𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽.

[bitemevanitas]

» Walking in on you changing «

HEADCANONS

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: The Case Study of Vanitas

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Jeanne, Vanitas, Dominique, Noé, Roland, Olivier, Dante, Johann, Riche, Astolfo

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𝕁𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕖

• Honestly, she screams

• Not out of embarrassment for you, but for herself

• She’s already halfway out the door before she even registers what she saw

• Apologizes at least 47 times, ane bows so aggressively she almost hits her head on the doorknob

𝕍𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕤

• Smirks immediately

• “Well, well, well... What a view.”

• He leans against the doorframe like he meant to do it, even if it was clearly a mistake

• Only leaves when you chuck a shoe at him

• He will bring this up for months

𝔻𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕢𝕦𝕖

• She barges in confidently, probably yelling about how you're late to tea, and then gets a full view

• Shrieks, immediately whirls around again, and shouts, “I SAW NOTHING! I’M A LADY, I RESPECT PRIVACY—NO, WHY DON’T YOU LOCK THE DOOR?!”

• Runs out hastily while dramatically averting her eyes, almost trips on her own heels

• Might composing a heartfelt, flowery apology letter

ℕ𝕠𝕖́

• Noé opens the door, cheerful as ever, but the moment he registers what's happening, he just freezes

• “Ah—OH! Oh no, I’m sorry! I really didn’t mean to—I wasn’t—I didn’t see anything! I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING—except for a little bit! But I’ll forget it! I mean—”

• He slams the door, trips over himself as he runs away, and later apologizes profusely

ℝ𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕

• Opens the door mid-conversation, stops dead in his tracks, and immediately looks away in silent horror

• “…I sincerely apologize,” he says stiffly, stepping back like a soldier retreating from a moral battlefield. “I’ll knock next time.”

• Never brings it up again, but every time he talks to you afterward, he looks ten degrees more formal

𝕆𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕣

• The epitome of stoic

• Opens the door, sees you mid-change, immediately turns around and shuts the door

• “…Apologies. I did not knock. That is entirely my fault.”

• He’ll start knocking at your door so aggressively afterward it sounds like an arrest is happening

𝔻𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖

• He walks in mid-sentence, sees everything

• The moment he sees you changing, he covers his eyes with one hand while holding up the other like a “Do not shoot!” sign

• “I SAW NOTHING. My soul is pure. My intentions are pure. I—why is this door never locked?!”

• Backs out of the room while colliding with the doorframe, swears, then finally vanishes down the hall

ℝ𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕖

• She’s coming to gossip or deliver something when flinging open the door

• Horrified gasp. “SCANDAL!!”

• She immediately covers her eyes with both hands, but peeks through her fingers

• With mild irritation, you end up ushering her out

𝕁𝕠𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕟

• Opens the door with the usual, unimpressed expression, and pauses.

• Looks you up and down, blinks once, and closes the door without comment

• On the other side, you hear a faint, unimpressed “…Hm.”

• He never apologizes

• Not because he's unkind, just because, in Johann’s mind, the real crime was your lack of fashion sense

𝔸𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕝𝕗𝕠

• Walks in. Sees skin.

• Immediate meltdown.

• “FILTH! DEPRAVITY! INDECENCY!”

• Turns bright red, and then trips over his own indignation

• Storms out while swearing vengeance on the architectural design that allowed this to happen

ℂ𝕙𝕝𝕠𝕖́

• Walks in, sees everything, and slowly raises an eyebrow

• “Well, that’s... one way to greet a lady”

• Closes the door with the same grace she entered

• While leaving, she only adds, “I preferred the outfit you wore yesterday. This one lacked effort.”

𝕁𝕖𝕒𝕟-𝕁𝕒𝕔𝕢𝕦𝕖

• Opens the door timidly, then immediately shuts it with the loudest yelp imaginable

• “I-I didn’t see anything! I swear on Chloé’s name!!”

• Later can’t look you in the eye and stammers every time you speak.

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[bitemevanitas]

Marceline ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ ♡

Fanart for @bitemevanitas

I don't even know what to say or add as a caption, I'm just really glad we're mutuals and OMG THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO DRAW (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

[bitemevanitas]

Antoinette ✨

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 @theofficialwindy

In shades of starlit blue,

She walks where dusk and secrets brew.

With eyes of gold, both fierce and bright,

They hold the hush of coming night.

Her raven hair, a shadow's thread,

Tells stories Paris left unsaid.

𝖠 𝗀𝗂𝖿𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗆𝗎𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅, 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗆 𝖨 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾 ♡︎

» The shades of brown and royal blue look way brighter on this picture than it actual is, which lowkey irks me...but alas, here she is in all her beauty (which I hope to have captured, of course).

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[bitemevanitas]

Love Me So Dearly

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: The Case Study of Vanitas

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Vanitas x F!Reader

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞/𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: mild angst + non-established relationship

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: You unintentionally confess your feelings

𝐓𝐖: possibly ooc (standard warning), kissing, cringe writing, idfk what i was on when writing this, my first oneshot i don't really like

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You were not really sure what exactly you were hoping for when Vanitas found out about your adoration towards him. Leaving you alone after a passionate kiss certainly wasn't on your mind.

The hush of Galérie Valentine was only interrupted by the muffled rustle of parchment, and the faint ticking of an old wall-clock.

There was also the occasional scrape of a chair leg shifting against stone tile. Other than that, there was only a comfortable silence.

Inside the bookshop, its lamplight, gold and low, cast shadows that slithered along the spines of aged tomes and dust-flecked shelves.

Vanitas was halfway down one such shelf, gloved fingers lazily ghosting over the cracked leather bindings of books he’d already skimmed more than once.

Nothing new. Nothing remotely useful.

He sighed through his nose and slouched forward, giving the appearance of being preoccupied. Truthfully, he was mostly just waiting.

Behind him, nestled in a wine-red armchair, were you. Across the small reading space the two of you had been ushered into, you held a hefty ledger about war-time military formations.

It was something completely unrelated to the current mission. Your eyes, however, were far less concerned with the page and far more preoccupied with Vanitas.

You were absolutely not subtle.

Every few minutes, your gaze would flicker upward from behind the tome, linger on him with quiet scrutiny, and then dip back behind your book as if nothing had happened.

He smirked slightly to himself. Subtlety had never quite been your strength, at least, not when it came to him. Even if you insisted otherwise.

Still, you were being odd today.

You weren’t usually like this. So skittish and hesitant. You were many things, really.

Sharp and composed, sometimes quietly intimidating.

And yet... there you were, nervously gripping a book like it held the secrets to the universe, faint color rising in your cheeks every time you accidentally met his eyes.

Why now?

Vanitas leaned a little further into the bookshelf, pretending to scan titles.

“Back in a moment,” he murmured offhandedly, just loud enough for you to hear. “I think I saw a medical text in the other section.”

You barely looked up from your book. “Mm. Don’t be too long.”

Vanitas didn’t miss the way your eyes subtly tracked him even as you tried to appear absorbed in the page.

With his usual theatrical flair, he pivoted, walked off toward a distant row, and doubled back quietly behind one of the nearer shelves, out of sight.

It was slowly starting to become ridiculous, no?

You waited a beat, then let out a breath you'd been holding. Your fingers loosened slightly around the edges of the book.

Then, slowly, your posture slumped forward, and you groaned into your hands, burying your face.

“…Why do I act like a bumbling idiot?” you mumbled. “This is turture.”

You paused. “You used to be so bold. What the hell happened?”

Frustratedly, you shook your head, gripping your scalp in both hands now, eyes fixed on the floor as though it had answers.

“It’s not even that he’s... attractive. No, it’s everything else. It’s—ugh!”

Suddenly, quiet as a cat, someone slipped around behind your chair.

Hands on the wooden backrest, Vanitas tilted forward until he could speak right by your ear, voice deceptively casual.

“So,” he drawled, “you do adore me.”

You jolted like you’d been electrocuted.

“Vanitas!” you hissed, springing to your feet and whirling on him, cheeks a blazing shade of red. Youe voice came out louder than you intended, drawing a stern glance from the elderly shopkeeper across the room.

You froze, then quickly cleared your throat and sat down again, pretending to be perfectly composed.

Vanitas, of course, looked entirely unbothered. One arm was draped lazily over the chair’s backrest, the other propping up his chin.

His expression was all but a poorly kept mask of innocence, his blue eyes glinting with amusement.

He waited.

You didn’t speak.

“…How long were you standing there?” you finally muttered, not meeting his gaze.

“Oh,” he said, tapping his chin theatrically. “Not long. Just long enough to hear you praise my many virtues.”

You buried your face in your hands again. “The hell I praised anything about you!”

“You do love me.” He tilted his head, feigning deep contemplation. “Strange, isn’t it? I thought you said that last confession of yours must’ve been a delusion. Something brought on by head trauma. Or anemia.”

You groaned again, sinking lower in your chair. “Please go away.”

Vanitas smiled wider. “You know,” he said, stepping around the chair with his hands folded behind his back, “you really shouldn’t talk to yourself in public. People might think you’re losing your mind.”

“Maybe I am,” you muttered, eyeing him warily. “You would be the cause.”

He plainly ignored the slight jab and stepped closer.

You stepped away, tone quiet but firm. “Vanitas. Stop whatever you’re planning.”

He tilted his head. “Planning? Moi?”

“I mean it,” you hissed. “Stop it.”

“Now, now,” he interrupted, voice light and teasing. “I only want to see the woman I hold so dear up close.”

You took a step back. He took two forward.

“You’re making a scene,” you muttered through gritted teeth.

“Then stop reacting so cutely.”

You scowled at him, suddenly a bit wary. “I will end you.”

Vanitas backed you gently into the shelf behind you. He wasn’t touching you, but the closeness was suffocating.

You could see the silver of his hourglass earring glint in the low light. His eyes flickered down to your lips, just for a moment. Your jaw went slack and a shiver went through your upper body.

“I could kiss you right now,” he said casually. “Would you want that?”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Your voice cracked. He didn’t miss it.

He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Close your eyes.” His breath was warm.

Instead, you turned your face away, eyes darting toward the door.

An exit.

Anywhere.

You had imagined this moment countless times before in the past, but now being confronted with it in real time shook you to your core.

This is happening too fast.

Vanitas noticed your fleeing gaze, and acted faster.

His hand snapped out, fingers gripping your chin tightly. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to keep you still. Your eyes widened just as his lips crashed into yours.

Hot.

Demanding.

Rough.

You made a noise of protest, brief and stifled. He didn’t stop. He deepened the kiss, tongue sliding past your lips with no hesitation. It wasn’t particularly gentle, nor was it romantic in a way that made you ascend to cloud nine.

It seemed like an act of dominance more than a declaration of reciprocation.

And it made your head swim.

Before you could even fully register the sudden kiss, he had pulled away.

You expected some stupid comment to follow suit, or his smug face waiting for you to lock eyes with him.

But none of it came.

He was walking away, coat swishing at his back as he headed for the exit.

All you were left with, was an odd ache in your chest, and the bitter feeling of Vanitas only slipping further through your fingers.

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[bitemevanitas]

ART POST

This was actually just meant as a sketch for funsies, but the longer I looked at it, I thought this could be how Vanitas would look after the events of The Case Study of Vanitas.

Yes, I'm aware he's supposed to die, but kindly idgaf, just let me be delulu <///3

I headcanon that he might have kept his hair long for quite a while as a sort of reminder of his mother (since the people from the tavelling circus always insisted he looks very much like his mum), but eventually he might cut it off.

Hair holds memories after all, and he might decide to let go of a part of his past at some point? It's just a small thought that occured to me, though probably nothing I would add into my writing.

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[bitemevanitas]

My Roman Empire: Noe holding Domi in his arms 😭😭💕💕💕

[bitemevanitas]

I'm sorry, but I was in the right mood

[bitemevanitas]

ART POST

A while ago, I posted a small writing, called 'Sweet and Red' about my OC, Marceline, together with Vanitas, during a moment in the greenhouse Jardin des Merveilles (made up by me) that was planned to take place in my fanfiction.

Sadly, I forgot that you basically read manga backwards, and I only realized you read it from right to left, and the other way around...

I messed up a little towards the end there, but I tried drawing the scene anew. The actual scene in the fanfiction is a little different from what I've posted on Tumblr.

In Vanitas' case I mostly used the manga as reference, because I'm always scared of messing up his features (just like I did with Marceline...), or his hair.

This was my first attempt at drawing scenes anyway, so, with time, I'm sure it'll get a lot better!

Maybe I'll keep drawing more panels in the future, or make a small comic about Marceline's backstory, once I have more time again.

Btw, the first chapter of Dusk Till Seine is out now, on WattPad under the same username <33

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[bitemevanitas]

This Tuesday was too long

[bitemevanitas]

Midnight's Kiss 🌛

𝒟ℴ𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓆𝓊ℯ 𝒹ℯ 𝒮𝒶𝒹ℯ

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Dominique x GN!Reader

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞: mild angst + hurt/no comfort

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.4K

𝐓𝐖: none

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You've been in love with Dominique from the very start. Quietly and fiercely, without ever expecting anything in return. She never had to ask; you were always there. Always waiting, always hoping, always willing to receive her with open arms, once she would realize that Noé is not the one for her. Even if she may never love you back, you'd come when she calls, not realizing that you have long become to her what Dominique is to Noé.

The music barely reached the edge of the garden, but you could still hear it, faint and aching, like a memory you weren’t meant to keep. You stood on the garden’s edge, just far enough away to feel the weight of not belonging.

In other words, you were beginning to regret coming.

The ball was just as unbearable as you'd imagined it would be, surrounded by hushed voices dripping with judgment, and the constant reminder that you were tolerated, rather than wanted.

Even as a guest of Luca Oriflamme, the young Grand Duke himself, you’d received nothing but cautious glances and raised brows. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t expected this. You weren’t nobility. Not a vampire. You weren’t anyone of status or power. 

You gripped the stem of your wine glass loosely, the liquid untouched and far too bitter. Vanitas had disappeared early on, off to torment Jeanne again. Noé was... somewhere. You hadn’t seen him in nearly half an hour.

You stood near the edge of the courtyard, arms folded loosely, the muted sound of a string quartet echoing faintly through the hedges. The wine in your glass had long gone warm. You were left alone. Watching. Waiting.

And still, no sign of her. It was driving you insane.

Dominique de Sade.

You hadn't seen her since arriving with Noé and Vanitas earlier in the evening, which wasn’t unusual for her, considering how she handled social obligations. But tonight... it felt different.

There had been a bit of a shift in the air lately. You’d noticed her pulling back. Letters unanswered. Meetings postponed. You missed her impish smiles. Now, there was just a strange, quiet absence. Something was wrong.

Your fingers clenched lightly around the stem of the glass.

Then, as your gaze wandered lazily across the manicured edge of the garden, you caught a glimpse of movement. Pale hands gripping a heavy skirt, before the person slipped into the shadows of the hedge maze. The unmistakable figure of Dominique in her formal ball gown. Burgundy satin swept behind her like smoke.

She looked... slow. A bit slouched, perhaps. Like she was holding something in.

You set the glass down. Your feet were already moving.

The maze was deceptively large, the hedges too similar to give any real sense of direction. A dozen twists and turns later, you found yourself talking to statues and dead ends. And still, no sign of her.

You called her name softly a few times. Nothing.

Was she hiding?

Or running?

You passed a marble fountain, a rose bush overtaken with late-blooming red, and what you swore was the same cherub statue three times in a row. The night air was crisp now, biting at your exposed collarbone.

Finally, after what felt like ages, you rounded a tight bend and stumbled into a small, closed alcove. There, framed by ivy and the incoming moonlight, she sat. Her skirts were spilling out in wrinkled layers beneath her. Her posture was collapsed in on itself, with one elbow resting on her knee and her hand near her temple, as if she were holding something in or holding something back.

She looked nothing like the woman you knew.

You hesitated in the silence. The air was cold here. Still.

She didn’t see you until you stepped forward. The moment your foot touched the gravel, her head snapped up. Dominique’s eyes widened, startled, and for a second, you saw something raw flicker through them—panic? Shame? Regret?

Then it was gone.

She straightened, smoothed her skirts with a slow, practiced gesture, and tilted her chin. “You,” she said, her voice uneven. “What? Are you stalking girls through hedges for fun?”

You didn’t smile. That caught her off guard. The curve of her lip faltered. A flicker of color bloomed at the top of her cheekbones. Her joke didn’t work. She looked away quickly, fingers brushing her skirt as if to smooth it, though it was far too wrinkled to be saved. You just walked to the bench and sat beside her. Not close. Not touching.

“You look tired,” you said.

She huffed. “You should see yourself.”

Dominique’s hand trembled slightly on her lap, so she clasped them together.

“I’ve been worried,” you interjected, voice quiet.

“There’s no reason to be.”

“You haven’t spoken to me in two whole weeks.”

Dominique looked away, jaw tightening.

“There’s nothing to be worried about. Really,” she said lightly, almost dismissively. “I just... needed air. That’s all.”

She wouldn’t meet your gaze. You didn’t press. The silence stretched. You studied her. Her eyes were rimmed faintly red. She’d cried recently, probably right before you found her. Her skin was cold in the moonlight, paler than usual. Her lips were slightly chapped. 

Then, she exhaled. Not a sigh, not quite. Something tired. Hollow.

“It’s been... two weeks,” she murmured, still evaluating if she should even talk to you at all.

You turned your head. “Since?”

She didn’t reply immediately. What happened two weeks ago? But you remembered, loosely. Two weeks ago, you’d overheard Veronica, her older half-sister, speaking in a hushed hiss near the west terrace. Something sharp and cruel. “He’ll never love you the way you want. Stop wasting your time. You’re only embarrassing yourself.” You hadn’t caught the whole conversation, but the implication had been enough.

Noé. Of course. He didn’t even know. Or did he? He couldn’t. He was too naive in some ways to realize how deeply Dominique loved him.

But you weren’t blind like he was.

You had known for a while. And you had never hated your own heart more. Because somewhere in the middle of watching her smile at someone else, you’d started loving her too.

Your stomach tightened. You didn’t say anything. You knew Dominique wouldn’t appreciate pity. She shifted again. Her hands were folded tightly in her lap.

“I haven’t been... at my best,” she admitted after a moment. Her voice sounded small, like it had been scraped raw. “But I’ll be fine. Eventually.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She looked at you sharply. And finally, finally, her mask cracked.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” she whispered. “I’m tired. I’m angry. And I hate that I still care.”

Her voice shook at the last word.

“Care about him?” you asked.

Dominique didn’t answer. You studied her in the dim light. Her eyes, rimmed faintly red. Her cheeks were pale. Had she been crying earlier? You didn’t ask. You didn’t need her to answer. You felt something deep and cold settle in your chest. A hurt you couldn’t voice.

“I wish it were me,” you said, not looking at her.

She inhaled sharply. “What?”

“I wish you looked at me the way you look at Noé. Just once. Even if it didn’t last.”

She didn’t move.

You turned to her slowly, your voice firm. “I care about you, Domi. All of you. Not the version you show the court, not the one who flirts to hide what she feels. I really, truly, wholeheartedly want the one who cries when no one can see. I want to be the one you fall apart with.”

Dominique stared at you, eyes wide, lips trembling.

“I—” she began, but faltered. Her voice caught.

You leaned in, forehead almost brushing hers.

“I understand I’m not like him. But I’d let you bleed me dry if it meant you’d feel something again. If it meant you’d feel wanted.”

She looked stricken.

“You look beautiful tonight, Domi.”

Silence.

You opened your eyes to look at her. She stared at you, wide-eyed. The way she always did when her walls cracked, and she didn’t know whether to push or pull.

“Don’t,” she said, barely audible. Her eyes dropped to her lap. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes me feel like I’m going to fall apart.”

You hesitated.

Then you reached out, slowly, and offered her your hand. She looked at it for a long moment, as if unsure whether to take it or leave the maze entirely. But then, quietly, she placed her hand in yours. It was cold. Shaking faintly.

“Do you want to go back?” you asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Why not?”

A weak laugh. “Because you’re the only person I can stand right now.”

You paused and sat there quietly, holding her hand as her breathing began to steady. You noticed the way her shoulders sagged, like she was letting go of something. The wind brushed a strand of hair across her face.

You reached up, slowly, brushing it back behind her ear. Your fingertips lingered against her jaw, just barely.

She didn’t flinch, and she didn’t pull away.

Her lips parted slightly.

You could feel it, that fragile thread between you, vibrating like it would snap at the slightest pressure. Suddenly, you could feel your pulse in your throat, in your wrist, in your chest. And then, barely above a whisper:

“Domi,” you said, “bite me.”

She froze.

Her hand jerked slightly in yours, but didn’t let go.

“I’m serious,” you continued, steady but soft. She stared at you, unmoving.

Her lips trembled. Her eyes glistened again. And then slowly, she looked down and pulled your hand to her lap. She held it there, staring at the skin of your wrist like she could see the blood beneath it.

Your heart thundered.

Dominique reached up, hesitating only once as her fingers touched the fabrics at your collar, gently brushing them aside. Her lips grazed the spot where your neck met your shoulder. Her breath was unsteady. She paused there, for what felt like eternity, until finally—

The sharp pinch of her fangs sank into your skin.

You gasped, eyes fluttering closed. Your hand fell to her waist, resting lightly on the tight corset beneath her bodice. The other rose to cradle the back of her head.

She drank slowly. Carefully. Like she was terrified of hurting you. The pain dulled quickly. The warmth bloomed. You held her gently, not possessively, and not demanding, just enough to keep her anchored. She drank like someone starving.

You didn’t make a sound, but your hands tightened slightly. You wanted to stay like this forever. 

Dominique pulled away eventually, lips darkened slightly, the color returning faintly to her cheeks. Her eyes were glassy again, but this time, not from pain.

You opened your mouth to speak, but she leaned forward before you could.

Her forehead rested against yours.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“I wish it were you, too.”

You closed your eyes, and your heart wept in silence.

.

.

.

[bitemevanitas]

hihihi again ^^ im the person who submitted the request about Vanitas with a childhood friend/sibling reader <33 id like to start this by saying THANK YOU AAAAA. Seeing that request made my entire week I was so very ecstatic, so firstly, thank you for taking the time to write it because it meant A LOT to me <333.

Now, feel free to ignore this entirely if your requests are closed, but I was wondering if it would be alright to request a continuation of that? More specifically headcanons of how the reader, Vanitas, and Mikhail’s lives were like when they were saved by Luna from the Lab. Again, if your requests are closed feel free to ignore this! Many blessings from a very happy reader >^<.

𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋

✔︎ 𝖧𝖤𝖠𝖣𝖢𝖠𝖭𝖮𝖭𝖲

The Cabin in the Mountains

• Luna calls the cabin a "temporary haven," claiming they borrowed it from a human friend who "owes them a favor"

• It’s pretty old and creaky, perched high in the mountains, and smells of pine and moss

• The three children are skittish at first

• Cold air and unfamiliar silences set off memories of the halls of Moreau's lab

• Vanitas, especially, hates the silence

• It reminds him too much of the in-between moments before pain

• You, the eldest at 14, somewhat take the lead, helping your brothers settle into the rhythm of something resembling normalcy

First Impressions with Luna

• Misha immediately clings to Luna, as he sees them as magical, like a fairy tale hero

• He often bombards Luna with questions:

• “Can you fly? Can you turn into a bat? How tall are you?”

• Luna answers in riddles or nonsense, which only makes Misha more enchanted

• Vanitas is more cold and suspicious

• He doesn’t trust Luna, hates being in debt to anyone, and can’t help but wonder if Luna has their own twisted goal in mind

• You stay neutral at first, trying to observe

• It's not like you trust easily either, but Luna's gentle way of never touching without asking, of always speaking softly, makes you begin to believe they mean no harm

Sleeping Arrangements

• The cabin has only one proper bedroom, which Luna gives to the children without hesitation

• Luna sleeps in the attic loft, alone

• “Vampires don’t dream much anyway”

• Vanitas sleeps closest to the door, an instinctive habit

• You sleep in the middle, a buffer between him and Misha, who sleeps with his arms flung over you most nights

• (Somewhat like how Louis, Noé, and Domi used to sleep like as kids??)

• Vanitas often wakes up sweating, haunted by phantom pain

• You always notice and keep a rag near the bed to wipe his brow

Mealtimes

• It is an understatement to say, that Luna is an absolutely abysmal cook...

• They once served something purple and still moving

• Vanitas, surprisingly, has a good sense for food prep

• He learned from observation: boiling, pan-searing, preserving meat, etc.

Chores and Cabin Life

• Vanitas is quite organized and a bit of a neat-freak

• He makes a cleaning rota, then throws it out because no one listens

• You and Vanitas shoulder most of the work:

𖦹 You sweep

𖦹 He handles laundry

𖦹 You fix leaks

𖦹 He gathers firewood with Luna

Emotional Healing (yay!!)

• Vanitas doesn’t cry, especially not where anyone can see, but he sometimes trembles when he’s alone

• You know how to read the signs, his tightened jaw, his white-knuckled grip on something

• That’s when you wrap your arms around him and just hold. No words. Just presence <3

• That might have been the last time he has been held in someone's arms

• Luna never forces the children to talk about the lab

• Instead, they read aloud to them, books about the Moon, philosophy, fairytales, etc.

Personality Snapshots

𖦹 Misha once snuck into Luna’s study and left them a flower crown “for being nice”

𖦹 Vanitas is quite withdrawn but sharp-tongued (insists he doesn’t gaf, but always double-checks that you and Misha are safe before going to bed)

𖦹 You are grounded andnemotionally intuitive, carrying more weight than a child should, but determined to keep the other two afloat

The Book of Vanitas

• Luna teaches you three to read the Grimoire(s)

• Vanitas catches on the fastest

• He’s eerily drawn to the glyphs, even if they make his head ache

• Misha says the book feels “warm,” like a secret that wants to be understood

• You feel something different - a burden, maybe, or a choice waiting to be made

• Personally, you prefer to keep your distance from the books

(Subtle) Foreshadowing

• Sometimes Vanitas stares at the moon too long

• You think he’s searching for something in its cold glow

• Misha starts drawing blue butterflies everywhere at some point

• Luna grows more quiet with each passing day, and something in their smile falters

• You never dare ask why

• The peace feels temporary, as if it were none but a fragile dream

• But for now, it is yours <3

.

.

.

[bitemevanitas]

I ain't a wimp when I get writers block I STRESS ABOUT IT FOR A WEEK STRAIGHT, and not to ChatGPT like a coward. I face writers block like a man, laying in bed hours crying.

[bitemevanitas]

Hello, may I request how Vanitas will as time passes react and become more comfortable with his s/o giving him a massage ? And when he is super comfortable, he's litterally a puddle in his partner's hands.

He said his shoulders were stiff. Which was no surprise given how often he was thrown around like a rag doll by vampiric creatures, and his horrible posture. What was a surprise was how he calmly sat in front of you and expected you to do something about it.

There was a time when Vanitas recoiled at your touch. The mere mention of it would send him flying across the room. Now, he almost seemed irritated you were making him wait.

Sliding up behind him you carefully place your hands on his shoulders. Gentle and slow. Like one might reach out to an animal that had recently been domesticated. You didn’t want to get bit again. You start to rub his shoulders, and Vanitas let his head fall forward. Exposing his neck, also previously unheard of, and your fingers rub at the connection of spine to skull.

Vanitas whimpered a little bit but stayed still. His shoulders finally release and relax. His whole body even, turning lax at your touch. It was nice to see him that way for a change. Vanitas was always so tense and edgy. It was nice to see him set that weight down for a while.

You continue a little longer before you ask, “better?” He gave a lazy sort of nod and you wrap your arms around him from behind and kiss his cheek. “I’m glad. You can ask me for this any time.” You’d be happy to give it.

[bitemevanitas]

NEW CHAPTER IN JULY‼️