lvminisciel

[lvminisciel]

TWST x adventure time: heartslabyul

fionna and cake got me feeling nostalgic so i’m combining it with my other favorite thing rn

[lvminisciel]

Leona Kingscholar = one of the smuggest cats in Twisted Wonderland

Leona Schoenheit = reaching levels of smuggness previously thought impossible

Cue crying Fareena cause his bro is using the "technically not family" excuse so he doesn't have to visit (pre-twins)

And he will be a such devoted husband _(:3 」∠)_

[lvminisciel]

dilemma in zigvolt household today

[lvminisciel]

LET LIVING WEAPON SILVER AU OUT PLZZZZPLZPZLLZKZPZLZLZLZLZLZLZLZPZLZPZLZPKZPZKZLZLZPZLZLZLZLXLX

Your writing is amazing, I love ur mind. And I need more (only if u feel like it ofcrs :))))))

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH?????? i can't believe that au broke through twst containment and into the whump community, this is such an honor aisdj;fl

while i don't have a drabble queued up for the moment, i didn't want to leave you hanging after such a sweet comment so please enjoy the brief snippet below :)

He can smell them first.

The scent of man sprawls over the wind and across the hilltop, a thick miasma bloated with sweat and iron and greed. The trees themselves shiver as if to shy away from the approaching bloodlust, and there's a foreboding silence that speaks to the absence of the woodland creatures who have long since scrambled or burrowed their way to safety.

Behind the snarling, grotesque mask situated half over his face, Lilia wrinkles his nose and squeezes the leather-wrapped grip reflexively, the stench one that will follow and haunt his dreams.

In the recesses of his mind, a gentle pressure flickers in reassurance, as calm and as steady as the stars above.

There is no doubt in his mind of the outcome— as the General of the Right, the Running Rampart of the Verdurous Moor, he has not and will not fail his Queen in battle. However, his thoughts drift to the blade clutched tightly in his hand, a strength of possessiveness he never would have believed himself capable of expressing towards a mere weapon, and a realization centers itself in his mind as if it had simply always been at home there— he would not fail Silver either.

Ahead of him, the first of the soldiers breaches the forest crest, the glimmer of the moon glinting off the peak of a battle-worn helmet.

Without a second thought, he lifts the sword with ease, pressing his exposed lips to the brilliant auroral gem laid into the pommel, to the soul trapped inside.

"The Night's Blessing be upon you," he breathes, and for a moment, only a moment— a fragile, delicate drop of time— he could swear there are arms around him, lips warm and benevolent to his temple as his own words echo back to him on the breeze.

The soldiers descend.

[lvminisciel]

this too shall pass

[lvminisciel]

this too shall pass

[lvminisciel]

⚔ living weapon verse ⚔ | a friend and i have been tossing around an au where silver is a literal "living weapon"— he's been transformed into a sword due to being cursed by maleficent and forced to serve the many fae generals throughout the centuries who wield him. eventually, time finds him in the hands of the most recent general of the right, a certain lilia vanrouge :) there's so much more to this au and i hope that i can express more of it through upcoming drabbles. but in the meantime please enjoy this snippet below! <3

The water in the basin almost instantaneously rusts into an ugly, mottled brown, the kind of stinking, brackish water that Silver has only seen in the most polluted of swamps. It makes sense, he supposes, twitching his fingers idly beneath the surface to watch the resulting eddies with a glazed stare— he is a tool of and for destruction. There is nothing that remains sacred and innocent for something like him, not even the bathwater warm like a hearth against his phantom, aching bones. 

A clawed hand takes his chin and grips it firmly, the pressure a welcome distraction from the encroaching abyss sinking its poisonous tendrils into his mind. He allows it to guide him, unable to resist even if he wished, and it tilts his head up until his dulled gaze meets blazing crimson, the sight stirring a long-dead emotion in his still and silent heart. “Focus,” the general murmurs, and the order is a kindness, a mercy he knows he does not deserve. “Eyes on me.”

These simple, straightforward commands are part of their ritual, and Silver clings to them like the last anchor in a tempest-tossed sea. His handler’s hold on his chin lingers a moment longer, the fae eyeing him impassively to ensure his compliance as if it were possible for Silver to disobey, before removing itself to reach for the damp rag draped along the basin’s side. Silver mourns its loss like a child yearning for a comfort toy, but his features do not betray his thoughts. They do not betray much of anything at all, the need to emote drilled out of him from centuries of cruelty and callous objectification. After all, what does a sword need a smile for, what use is a blade that weeps?

Instead, he centers himself along the pain, one of the only constants he’s come to know as intimately as any true love. His handler is quick, another one of those unnecessary mercies, but thorough— the rag glides along his bruised and blood-stained skin, sweeping away the gory evidence of mere hours ago. Idly, Silver wonders if it would truly be so easy to wipe away the memories. To cleanse what is so ingrained within him: the dying wails of his own kind, the wet heat as he slices through their flesh and beating veins, the fear wide and white in their eyes. 

“Silver.”

His head snaps up, a dull burn of shame creeping beneath his skin as the fear of disappointing the fae, a compelling need sewn viciously into the very nature of his being as part of Maleficent's curse, floods his mind.

The general has paused in his ministrations, for how long Silver does not know, and instead is crouched by the basin’s side with an inscrutable expression on those delicate features. Without a word, he reaches out, and Silver’s eyes all but close as a passive tranquility spreads like treacle through his trembling limbs at the touch of those warm fingertips against the curse mark branded along the back of his neck. His handler need not look to find the recent addition of the bat flitting above the floral-wreathed sword emblazoned on Silver’s skin, and he feels the tips of those claws press lightly against it— he’s never heard of a curse mark changing over time, and he cannot forget the strange flash of possessiveness that flickered through the general’s eyes at the sight before being smoothly buried under his usual narrowed gaze. 

He cannot forget the odd churning of his heart when he first caught sight of it in the broken mirror hanging in the general’s tent. 

“Silver,” the general repeats, and Silver flushes at having drifted off once again. But instead, the fae brushes his thumb over the length of the curse mark, from the nape of his neck to the top of his spine, and stares at him like he’s something deserving of tenderness. 

“You did well today, boy. Rest now,” his handler’s hand shifts forward to cover his eyes, the darkness beneath his palm warm and inviting and nothing like the cold and miserable nothingness that Silver returns to when he’s outperformed his usefulness. Another kindness, for swords do not sleep, or eat, or drink— his body, what little humanity it has retained, no longer is tethered to such mortal requirements. But his general has given him an order, and a good weapon obeys the will of its handler. 

Silver sleeps— swords do not dream, but what else could it be, when he feels the ghost of lips brushing against his forehead?

[lvminisciel]

Ivantill

[lvminisciel]

⚔ living weapon verse ⚔ | a friend and i have been tossing around an au where silver is a literal "living weapon"— he's been transformed into a sword due to being cursed by maleficent and forced to serve the many fae generals throughout the centuries who wield him. eventually, time finds him in the hands of the most recent general of the right, a certain lilia vanrouge :) there's so much more to this au and i hope that i can express more of it through upcoming drabbles. but in the meantime please enjoy this snippet below! <3

The water in the basin almost instantaneously rusts into an ugly, mottled brown, the kind of stinking, brackish water that Silver has only seen in the most polluted of swamps. It makes sense, he supposes, twitching his fingers idly beneath the surface to watch the resulting eddies with a glazed stare— he is a tool of and for destruction. There is nothing that remains sacred and innocent for something like him, not even the bathwater warm like a hearth against his phantom, aching bones. 

A clawed hand takes his chin and grips it firmly, the pressure a welcome distraction from the encroaching abyss sinking its poisonous tendrils into his mind. He allows it to guide him, unable to resist even if he wished, and it tilts his head up until his dulled gaze meets blazing crimson, the sight stirring a long-dead emotion in his still and silent heart. “Focus,” the general murmurs, and the order is a kindness, a mercy he knows he does not deserve. “Eyes on me.”

These simple, straightforward commands are part of their ritual, and Silver clings to them like the last anchor in a tempest-tossed sea. His handler’s hold on his chin lingers a moment longer, the fae eyeing him impassively to ensure his compliance as if it were possible for Silver to disobey, before removing itself to reach for the damp rag draped along the basin’s side. Silver mourns its loss like a child yearning for a comfort toy, but his features do not betray his thoughts. They do not betray much of anything at all, the need to emote drilled out of him from centuries of cruelty and callous objectification. After all, what does a sword need a smile for, what use is a blade that weeps?

Instead, he centers himself along the pain, one of the only constants he’s come to know as intimately as any true love. His handler is quick, another one of those unnecessary mercies, but thorough— the rag glides along his bruised and blood-stained skin, sweeping away the gory evidence of mere hours ago. Idly, Silver wonders if it would truly be so easy to wipe away the memories. To cleanse what is so ingrained within him: the dying wails of his own kind, the wet heat as he slices through their flesh and beating veins, the fear wide and white in their eyes. 

“Silver.”

His head snaps up, a dull burn of shame creeping beneath his skin as the fear of disappointing the fae, a compelling need sewn viciously into the very nature of his being as part of Maleficent's curse, floods his mind.

The general has paused in his ministrations, for how long Silver does not know, and instead is crouched by the basin’s side with an inscrutable expression on those delicate features. Without a word, he reaches out, and Silver’s eyes all but close as a passive tranquility spreads like treacle through his trembling limbs at the touch of those warm fingertips against the curse mark branded along the back of his neck. His handler need not look to find the recent addition of the bat flitting above the floral-wreathed sword emblazoned on Silver’s skin, and he feels the tips of those claws press lightly against it— he’s never heard of a curse mark changing over time, and he cannot forget the strange flash of possessiveness that flickered through the general’s eyes at the sight before being smoothly buried under his usual narrowed gaze. 

He cannot forget the odd churning of his heart when he first caught sight of it in the broken mirror hanging in the general’s tent. 

“Silver,” the general repeats, and Silver flushes at having drifted off once again. But instead, the fae brushes his thumb over the length of the curse mark, from the nape of his neck to the top of his spine, and stares at him like he’s something deserving of tenderness. 

“You did well today, boy. Rest now,” his handler’s hand shifts forward to cover his eyes, the darkness beneath his palm warm and inviting and nothing like the cold and miserable nothingness that Silver returns to when he’s outperformed his usefulness. Another kindness, for swords do not sleep, or eat, or drink— his body, what little humanity it has retained, no longer is tethered to such mortal requirements. But his general has given him an order, and a good weapon obeys the will of its handler. 

Silver sleeps— swords do not dream, but what else could it be, when he feels the ghost of lips brushing against his forehead?

[lvminisciel]

Ruggie's VA Ichikawa Aoi comment from the fanbook:

“Ruggie is slender, with a cute face for a member of Savanaclaw, and I was impressed by his unrelenting strength and cunning.

I had such a great time portraying the character from the very beginning, in the audition with how his hyena-like qualities exude from every line.

I believe that Ruggie is good at hiding what he holds in his heart, so I am always conscious of not being too transparent about his inner world when I portray him.”

-Twisted Wonderland FanBook vol.1 (2020)

[lvminisciel]

twst book 7 spoilers (but not really)

Maleficia after Shrouds contacted her

[lvminisciel]

My controversial book 7 opinion is that it is unclear if Malleus and Silver really see themselves as brothers. Because they were both raised by Lillia, they should be brothers, but Silver was actually raised as his son 100+ years after Malleus was raised with Lillia knowing his birth parents and never claiming to be his father. The fact that Silver literally serves Malleus as a guard and is winning to die to protect him does not scream “brother” to me. What younger brother serves his older brother like that? Silver was raised to train as a knight to protect Malleus. It would be nice if they reconcile at the end of book 7 and decide to live as brothers , but as if right now they don’t seem like it. Much more of a knight and prince relationship than family

[lvminisciel]

i cant wait for malleus, king of silly, to be back ON (with his equally silly tsum nonetheless!!)

[lvminisciel]

WE'RE SO BACKKKK AAAHHHHHH

MALLETSUM TODAY!!! even if i dont hv gems *sobs* at least THE STORYYYYY YEEAAAYYYY cant wait to play when i get home 🥰

[lvminisciel]

kiss me goodnight

Father, me and big brother are home! We bought something for dinner! A carp by the lake, and potatoes from the land! A cut on the back, and fleshes of the dead!

pt.1 | pt. 2

pairing: mallesilmal. wc 2,5k

pls read!! warning: suicidal ideation, angst, mcd, gore. woundfucking, double d mal, deepthroat but instead of d it's malmal's slitted tongue

Their private liturgy continued for weeks, and many moons of crops seems to have passed. Silver will come to the castle every single day without fail, like a devoted loyal servant to its master. Everytime he entered the chamber, may forms of torment ensues, sometimes with different motions, sometimes different organs. His Lord would disassemble his body parts and arrange it back in one piece, of the exact strand and order, all without a miss. Yet none of that seemed to kill him, whether inside nor outside, as his soul seemed to resonate with his Lord as it all felt was only grief, grief, and grief. 

Even as the time goes, all was fleeting. Time went in a blink of an eye, and the longer he stride by the riverbanks of time, the more his life feels less ‘living’. Everyday life felt so dull, and deep down he knows he could never go back to how he once were. Of sunshine in the woods, waiting for his father’s arrival. Of those days they went hunting and foraging the forest for herbs and, much to Silver’s dismay, ‘strange ingredients’ his father likes to pick along the way home. Of evenings after sparring with Sebek by the backyard, hopefully wishing for his Lord’s arrival to join them for dinner so they could tuck his father’s cooking somewhere else or gave it to the forest animals.

Those times of much simpler life,

When his father was around. 

Now, he’s left with nothing but a gaping wound in his heart

Unattended, lacerated and disfigured; those who see the way it is now could even hardly believe it was once a full, beating heart- as the state of it now much resembles a lump of blood clot rather than a formerly functioning organ

Yet, even after all those agony it went through, it still beats

It still beats. 

Oh, how he hated the sound of it

The pounding in his veins. Steady rhythm of blood circulating throughout his bloodstream, intact, splattering only when his Lord’s claws are inside of him. Everytime his Lord disassembles his insides, he would always hoped, prayed that maybe his heart will forget a beat amidst all these bodily pain that envelops him. Perhaps his lung would be oh so kind to stop functioning altogether, or the insides of his skull would self-destruct itself. 

But his heart keeps pounding on and on

A sick reminder that he’s still alive, unable to be reunited with his father

He’s been so, so close to the edge, why can’t he just die already?

Is his Lord’s healing magic too powerful? Why isn’t the reaper here yet? Can’t he just go, all these are making his patience running thin. 

He wonders how many times should he play this twisted tug-of-war game with death, to which he always dreams of losing. 

So when another being sarted being present during their private sessions, it sparked hope inside Silver. 

He knew his time was creeping in closer, because not even His Lord’s omnipotent magic could ever prolong something as sacred as defying mortality. He smiled genuinely for the first time in years, leaving each of their meetings with a content feeling instead of the usual despair. His Lord would question about it someyimes, to which Silver would reply with his signature sincere half-smile

…to which Silver began to think

….what would His Lord became of, once that he is gone? 

Would His Lord be abe to cope with the grief that follows? After such a huge loss he experienced already? 

Silver might not be the brightest in terms of social cues or delving into people’s hearts and peering into their feelings, but one thing he does know: His Lord wouldn’t be able to handle it well

After all, if he did so, then their classified rites wouldn’t happen in the first place. Or turning into a daily basis, for that matter. To top it all, the kingdom would be brought into an even major calamity, lest his Lord were faced for another grief in his sight. That narrows the questions in his head down to a singular one: 

How do he drag his Lord down with him? 

tic-toc, the clock is ticking. As the figure that overshadows their chamber turned clearer each passing day, Silver is vigilant that he doesn’t have much time left. Bearing only one solution in mind, he enters their solemn chamber, preparing for a gamble of life and death. A russian roulette he invented on his own. 

And he finally came down with his own plan. 

Yes, this would surely suffice

The night was cleared of its clouds, moon shining softly amongst the starry skies. The walk to the castle was not long, but Silver decided to slow down for a bit. 

It is his last day after all, as the reaper had been clearly visible to the touch

This night would be the final one, and as dawn rolls he would be graced by his one true love

His took his steps thoughtfully, absorbing the sceneries before him mindfully. The walk from his tiny little cottage in the woods that will soon be abandoned. The owls and crows and other animals cooing him along the way, as if muttering mournful goodbyes. How the castle gates lowered at the sight of him, without him needing to announce his presence. The castle staff & maids that bowed down respectfully, seeing as how they might’ve perceived him as some sort of hero for diverting their Lord’s grief, not knowing the very same person would bring an end to the exact Lord they worshiped

Mustering his resolve, he entered the chamber, where his Lord awaits patiently. A soft breath of flame welcomes him, as both candles and chandeliers alike lit up. Lavish banquet upon the table, grand as always. Everything’s the usual, except for- 

Except for the the eagerness pulsating his chest, as from today onward he would no longer be within despair’s grasp

It ends today

All the pain and anguish, he shall bring it all down with him

Feeling the blade brushed against his thighs, he returned the warm welcome with a smile. That his Lord was taken aback no longer matters, this is the requiem after all! It should be enjoyed to its finest, doesn’t it?

And so their usual liturgy began. Although Silver would prefer calling this one their ‘Rite of Parting’. It had a nicer ring into it, or so he thought. He locked his gaze upon those pair of emerald locket that adorns his Lord’s face, oh such grace it was for being able to witness this lustrous sight before one departs. His Lord, having the time of his life- obliterating all grief and sorrow as his fangs bared upon his chest, talons ripping apart skin to skin. 

Starting off with his undeformed obsidian claws slitting the upper part of his body, as the other slips itself into Silver’s underneath. The moment Silver’s heart laid bare, his Lord proceeds to kiss them gently, lengthy tongue tending every single row of his ribs, slipping beneath to savor the delish taste of iron from its splitting ends. His Lord was always a man of patience, and so he goes, moving supple palms ever so gracefully,

But Silver was not.

Not this time, at least. 

He’s so eager– eager to the touch, to the taste, to the end. His patience is growing thinner by each passing moment, and for the first time in Seven knows how long; he refused to relent. Instead, his hands grazed to his Lord, tracing him all ever so softly and at the same time greedily– as if those touches would suffice his hunger. And his Lord, the ever-so-thoughtful of his people, complies

‘Eager today, aren’t we?’ 

He mutters under his breath, as consciousness gradually grew adrift; drunk by the touch. As much as he enjoyed the delectable taste of his cherished subject, he constantly tasted this mournful flavor from him. Something he probably didn’t realize had been consuming him progressively over the course of time, something he understood so well. He never minded this notion though, as Silver’s mere form was more than sufficient to scrape off  the remaining grief  sadness of his beloved spouse’s parting

However, that is alright

They would surely come back someday, right? They are merely sleeping for a little while. One day they will arise hearty and buoyant like how they always been, thus announcing their presence with the warmest smile as they jumped into his arms, fondling their hands upon his towering form lovingly. And he would lower down, reciprocate their lush affection and pepper them with the gentlest of kisses he’d been saving up these whole decades, centuries even, and—

The gentle caress on his neck, sliding down his throat onto his chest dragged him back to what’s laid in front of him. Just like a prey offering himself to the hunter, although the fondness betwixt them begs to differ.

Observing the alluring blend of colors beneath him that stares straight into his eyes– into his heart, the dragon fae decides to give in. He would take his loyal knight’s offerings of course, as it would be heartless for a master to refuse such sincere. And so concede he did, unrestraining the constraint of his dual cock. Going slow at first, he enters the first into Silver’s hole, pushing its full length in one single thrust. A slight moan slips his ashen lips as he positioned his next one, eyes interlocking with the remnants of saliva dangling between ribs beneath him. Those translucent silk, paving the path into the other’s heart was clearly his invitation to attend; and so as a profound noble that he is, proceeds to fulfill that lustrous invite. 

Gently, he made way between the limbs; and as his first was already spasming between Silver’s tight walls, his second was getting harder by each passing cartilage. They only seemed to grow in size as he goes on, and the more it gets tighter down there; what’s his jostling with Silver’s liver, lungs, and pancreas as he slowly but surely making his way into his heart, Silver giggles

Silver giggles. 

Dear Sevens and the Great Thorn Fairy above, how many decades has it been since he heard those sweet giggles? Was it when Lilia first discovered that humans are ticklish and tried it on his own son, which he later joined during, laughing heartily as the three of them enjoyed Silver’s playtime just as much as him? Or was it oh his birthday, when he got a whole pie thrown at him for the sake of good luck? Perhaps it was when both he and Sebek welcomes them home after their trip into some faraway land, and offers them homemade cookies that was slightly burnt; where Lilia said his cookies are more exceptional and much better, to which Silver only replied with a stifle laugh, giggly smile adoring his petite form

Which one was it?

Does it even matter? 

As his second finally reached its final destination, he let out a hearty laugh, as if reciprocating those once long-lost giggles. But that matters not now, what’s important is how to satisfy the proprietor of those alluring sound. Thus, he picks up the pace, brimming even more enthusiastically with two pairs of fangs procuring first row seat of the show, as moonlit strands gradually grew flushed in span of seconds. The delicate touch of callused hands began to pepper his back, crystal nails flourishing in crimson as they dug deeper and deeper. Those luscious voices only got sweeter the more he progresses, constantly moaning as the other succumbs into the bliss of his holy cock. They both inches closer and closer, both the ones inside & below the ribs, and so does Silver’s which he enveloped in his palms. Shiny black claws fondled with the tip, smothering delicately to the strings leaked from its source, before it finally bursts. and so does his own, outflowing the tight walls that of Silver’s, as the realms between his organs turned into a colorful mixture of sweat, blood, tears and other salty liquids. Both delve into the pleasure of release once more, and they would both be lying if they said that it wasn’t the most passionate one they’ve ever had all these time. 

Their most passionate one

Which would also be the first and the last.  

Silver glance onto his side, and there was them.  The reaper, in all his mightiness and sorrow and glory and whatever hopes it brings for Silver to devour. It’s now or never, so he put up his sweetest smile, one that his father would always sings praises and adore whenever he did

‘My Lord, would you be so kind as to give me one last kiss before we depart? 

A single good night kiss would suffice’

‘Why of course, cherished one. As a gift, I would be glad to fulfill your desire’

So their tongue intertwined, his Lord’s split tongue peered slowly as he opened the gates into throat. He pulled as to lower him and holds him closer, and two tips of dragon tongue dances around. Twirling, enveloping his little one if compared to that of his Lord’s. It goes deeper as the length fulfill every room of his mouth, down into his throat, and needless to say he was satisfied. He towered above him, and so does the reaper: now hanging behind his Lord, creeping in- this is it. This is the time, as he unseath the blade he’d been keeping, and he thrust

Deep. Red. Black. Dripping, waltzing and oozing together ever so beautifully

His Lord was about to laugh of humor, did his loyal subject, all knowing of how robust he was, really think that this mere mutiny could end him? If it did, he would’ve did it himself ages ago

But there was something else

As Silver thrusts deeper, he feel it seeps into his streams, light magic overflowing and tainting his fae blood. There’s no mistaking it- it’s the same magic that emanates from Silver’s passed down ring, one that Lilia stashed along with the greatest gift in the whole world— according to him. The very same that ended his mother. 

To end with the exact same way of his beloved mother he never got the chance to meet

This is beautiful

And so he gave in. Letting go as his magic that cloaks their surroundings dissipates, including the ones veiled Silver’s form. The taller frame finally succumbs and sank. Glints of effulgent hangs upon his head, and in those final moments, pressed a smile onto his Lord’s lips; as warmth slips and bodies deteriorates.

This time, surely, his father would be overjoyed

Father, me and big brother are home! We bought something for dinner!

A carp by the lake, and potatoes from the land!

A cut on the back, and fleshes of the dead!

[lvminisciel]

kiss me goodnight

Even this pain could not distract me from the thought of you

pt. 1 | pt. 2

pairings: mallesil, implied malleyuu

please read!! warning: angst, slight nsfw, mcd. dead dove: do not eat, woundfucking

The silence was deafening. Many would deem meeting the Lord of Briar, especially after such catastrophe, terrifying. People throughout the land knew their Lord was mourning ever since, grieving over the lost of Their Majesty themself. The sun has not peeked even  once, thunderstorms and black cloud ensues, crops failing everywhere. Silver knew he has to do something, he has to, else the kingdom whom he and his father once loved will be descended into ruin. Yet none of the people dared to request their presence upon The Great Lord, either out of loyalty or plain fear disguised under the cloak of devotion.

Today, he stands upon the door of His Lord’s throne room, requesting his presence formally, even though he knew that wouldn’t be needed at all. Both he, Sebek and his father always had free access of this room ever since Malleus ascended from his role as The Crown Prince, yet he does it anyway. He took a deep breath as the grand door opens, revealing two thrones which was left empty. Silver stepped into the huge room. As he approached the center, a flash of green emerges, and along with it, His Lord. He knelt down on one knee, hand on his chest, while the other lies on his back. There was a moment before he stoop his head low, voice stern and dignified, 

‘Dear Lord, I wish to offer myself as a makeshift of your sorrow’ 

It’s as if the world around them stops moving. The air was still, if a single needle were to fall right now, Silver believes it would echo the whole room. His Lord was still levitating a few meters away  from him, before words finally escape his thin-dark lips

‘Rise’ 

So did Silver, raising his head to meet his Lord’s gaze, and was shaken in an instant.

It was an expression he never saw in his Lord before. Heck, he even thinks he never saw him like that when he was still the plain Malleus, with no country or people to rule, back when he still have a handful of freedom between his hands. The face of clear desperation and sorrow, that penetrates far between his facade of nobility and distinguished presence. His heart aches at the view, why of course. The great catastrophe had costed a thousand lives, billion even. Losing his people, and all his loved ones while maintaining dignity to rule over people regardless of his pain. If he’s scarred, then his Lord must be wounded. If he’s feeling a twinge of ache, then his Lord must’ve been in greater pain, ones much greater than his. 

His Lord materialized his staff on his hand, and with a low thud, all his retainers pardoned themselves outside the room. Only then the voice he recognized well ever since his early childhood reverberates

‘Silver’

He listens intently. He knows his Lord has got much more to say.

‘What can one do, to relieve this pain and agony?’

‘Anything.’

‘Anything?’

‘Anything. I would do anything, My Lord, to ease your grief and suffering. 

Please, use me as you please.  I would be delighted to indulge, body and soul.’ 

body and soul, Silver winces. Body and soul that don’t even belong to him from the very start. His whole being, every strand of hair and inside of his mind belonged to his father and his father only. He would gladly trade his soul for his father’s well-being, happiness, to extend his lifeline, or as simple as to serve a plate to his tastes, anything. Anything for his father, for he always belonged to him. 

But life is not always that simple. And as much as he wants to stay with his father forever, even residing in his deathbed until the reaper comes for him too, the world just chose to disagree. As much as he wants to, his father would despise it, for all he ever asked in his long life towards Silver was to not give up on living. 

But how can he live life without his father? 

Ever since his father left for the Land of the Red Dragons, he would always sent him letters. Telling stories of any happenings in the Land of  Thorns, or any minor changes in their cottage. How his friends and the people from Night Raven College are doing after graduation. Sometimes he travels overseas too, following his father’s footsteps, telling everything he discovered along his journey in the form of words. He would write frequently, without miss, knowing that the place his father chose to resides is still untouched of modern technology.

His father used to write back to him just as much. About his travels there, the people he met, how the children that used to play around his abode made him reminisce about Silver's childhood back in the day. There were so much things to share with his beloved son, many things to tell even if they're billion feets apart. He would reassure that he's doing good everytime, that there's nothing to worry about and that Silver can stay wherever he wants without needing to worry about him. 

But one day, the letters are coming to a halt. Silver no longer receive replies as frequent, even though he will still receive one during his birthday each year without miss, even though it’s  only filled with wishes for his well-being and none of its contents answered his questions nor is  aligned with the previous letters. 

The catastrophe had elapsed, and not even in those dire situations did his father return

His father wouldn’t leave his son and his beloved pupils to face such dangers alone. 

Not when he’s still breathing

Not when he can use his body as a fae shield

Not when he’s alive

Silver’s not a fool, Deep down he knew, realized that his father may be long gone. Without him on his side. Or his beloved ones. Or his disciple. All alone in a faraway land, where no news of his passing would reach their ears. 

Perhaps that’s what his father planned long ago, when he tried to leave Night Raven College

But what about him? What about Silver, your beloved son? That you hold dear the moment you laid your eyes on him, amidst the darkest thorns? That you raised and nurtured  with utmost genuine love you had never received nor believed you were capable of? What will become of him, now that you’re gone? Do you know how I always, always belonged to you father, my one and only, as  I will forever be your one and only son? What, how-  how would you expect me to live without your presence? Who will soothe me? Who will cradle me in his arms no matter how big I have grown? Who will find me amidst the dark forest during a thunderstorm just to bring me home, back to the warmth of your embrace? Where will I return to? Where is home when there is no you inside? 

Father, it is not that I am incapable of living

I am merely incapable of living in a world without you in it.

If only his father was here. Perhaps the catastrophe wouldn’t become such atrocious turns of events, perhaps many lives could be saved with his father’s abilities. Perhaps his life wouldn’t be led astray. Perhaps living wouldn’t feel as horrible, maybe-

‘We’re here.’ 

His Lord’s voice echoes in front of a huge gate underground, where they’ve been walking this whole time. Silver doesn’t know how far they’ve walked, or how deep they are beneath the surface, but no matter. The entrance creaked open, and along with it the torches inside the room lit up with bright green flames. The young Lord stepped inside, so he followed his footsteps. 

Inside were dolls, many many dolls. From wool, cotton, polyester of some kind, glass, plastic, wood..? Majority of them were mannequins, and Silver can’t help but realize that each and every doll bears some kind of resemblance

They all looked like Yuu- no, Their Highness. 

Both tread their path in silence, where they finally stopped in the heart of the room. There is a large banquet table full of distinct food atop of it, one that will not be found anywhere across the realm of Twisted Wonderland as none of them hailed from here. All which could only come into being along with the existence of the once infamous Ramshackle Prefect, which now people knew as the savior of the catastrophe

Far away in the middle, he sees something that doesn’t belong in the dinner table sitting prettily amidst the crowded cuisine:

A pair of doll

Unlike any other dolls in the room, this one was unique 

It was a gift from the Prefect on his Lord’s 179th birthday, just before his Lord left for his internship in the fourth year. One was supposedly made to resemble himself, and the other was made to resemble the creator. They would exchange their dolls everytime the other was away, as if to relieve their longing by having a miniature of each other. He himself knew because his Lord was exhilarated by this gift, claiming it as one of his most prized possessions. He would bring it with him everywhere and boast it to every person he met, until his father advised him, saying the doll would get damaged faster if he brought it with him everytime.

Now it all clicked in his head

This was his Lord’s attempt to relieve his grief. 

The Lord took a few steps back from the heart of the banquet, bringing the two dolls into the sides as if letting them watch. Silver, understanding the cue, proceeds to climb up the lavish table

‘Lie down’ ordered his Lord 

And so he does. 

With a slight wave of his Lord’s fingers, every single thread on Silver’s body dissipated into thin air.

‘How much are you willing to devote to me?’ asked his Lord, voice devoid of emotions 

‘As much as what my father offered for the kingdom’ 

There’s a pang in his chest on the single word that came from his mouth. His father. Father, father, father- 

A luminescent greenish hue envelopes his frame 

Father, will you return if I crave hard enough?

Sharp claw grazed his skin, slowly at first, before cutting a thin, fine line atop his chest 

Will you welcome me by the door after I’m done playing in the woods? 

Something gripped his chest, and as if on cue, his heart starts beating faster to the touch 

I’m lost, father. Are you on your feet to skim the forest for my presence? 

Enjoying the rhythm in his hands, he placed his face closer, as if to kiss it

Leaning down, he pressed it into his ears. Music soothes a pair of pointy ears, while the other pair weeps in silence

Then came out a sob

Plump tears mixed with the ones inside his body, streaks of translucent joining heaps of scarlet

His Lord was atop of him fully, right hand gripping his heart strong, while the other graze over his lungs

With a loud cry, black fingertips clutched harsh, bursting the lung beneath

Silver gasped, or at least tried to. It’s as if every last piece of oxygen was drained of this world 

His head flinched a bit, before laying helplessly on the other side of the table 

Father, I am in peril. Wouldn’t you come to my rescue now? 

He can feel the grip on his heart tightens. Muttering something along the lines of ‘if only I could give you a beating heart’ and ‘aint such alluring instrument befitting of your beauty, my dearest?’ 

I miss you. Father, please come. I’d do anything for not losing you

Fingers caressed his other lung, going around in circles 

Please. Please come back. I, by the Seven’s name, could not bear to live another day without you

Something pierced through him. Fierce at first, then replaced by something much firmer

Pounding gently, then getting rougher on each stab as if to keep up the pace

I’d trade my whole life for you, father 

It hurts. Everything hurts. He faintly heard whimpers atop of him, but the ache in his heart stings more than the ones on his body 

The motion accelerates as time goes, his already limp body thumping rhythmically with each pound

Your presence is all I ask. Is that too much to ask? 

A splutter. Something filled up his insides. Another fluid, this one much thicker in texture, joined the unsightly mixture of whatever various liquid entered his body since all of this started

I’d rather cease to exist in a world without you, father. 

A stray tear fall

Even this pain could not distract me from the thought of you.

[lvminisciel]

kiss me goodnight

Even this pain could not distract me from the thought of you

pt. 1 | pt. 2

pairings: mallesil, implied malleyuu

warning: angst, nsfw, mcd. dead dove: do not eat, woundfucking

The silence was deafening. Many would deem meeting the Lord of Briar, especially after such catastrophe, terrifying. People throughout the land knew their Lord was mourning ever since, grieving over the lost of Their Majesty themself. The sun has not peeked even  once, thunderstorms and black cloud ensues, crops failing everywhere. Silver knew he has to do something, he has to, else the kingdom whom he and his father once loved will be descended into ruin. Yet none of the people dared to request their presence upon The Great Lord, either out of loyalty or plain fear disguised under the cloak of devotion.

Today, he stands upon the door of His Lord’s throne room, requesting his presence formally, even though he knew that wouldn’t be needed at all. Both he, Sebek and his father always had free access of this room ever since Malleus ascended from his role as The Crown Prince, yet he does it anyway. He took a deep breath as the grand door opens, revealing two thrones which was left empty. Silver stepped into the huge room. As he approached the center, a flash of green emerges, and along with it, His Lord. He knelt down on one knee, hand on his chest, while the other lies on his back. There was a moment before he stoop his head low, voice stern and dignified, 

‘Dear Lord, I wish to offer myself as a makeshift of your sorrow’ 

It’s as if the world around them stops moving. The air was still, if a single needle were to fall right now, Silver believes it would echo the whole room. His Lord was still levitating a few meters away  from him, before words finally escape his thin-dark lips

‘Rise’ 

So did Silver, raising his head to meet his Lord’s gaze, and was shaken in an instant.

It was an expression he never saw in his Lord before. Heck, he even thinks he never saw him like that when he was still the plain Malleus, with no country or people to rule, back when he still have a handful of freedom between his hands. The face of clear desperation and sorrow, that penetrates far between his facade of nobility and distinguished presence. His heart aches at the view, why of course. The great catastrophe had costed a thousand lives, billion even. Losing his people, and all his loved ones while maintaining dignity to rule over people regardless of his pain. If he’s scarred, then his Lord must be wounded. If he’s feeling a twinge of ache, then his Lord must’ve been in greater pain, ones much greater than his. 

His Lord materialized his staff on his hand, and with a low thud, all his retainers pardoned themselves outside the room. Only then the voice he recognized well ever since his early childhood reverberates

‘Silver’

He listens intently. He knows his Lord has got much more to say.

‘What can one do, to relieve this pain and agony?’

‘Anything.’

‘Anything?’

‘Anything. I would do anything, My Lord, to ease your grief and suffering. 

Please, use me as you please.  I would be delighted to indulge, body and soul.’ 

Body and soul, Silver winces. Body and soul that don’t even belong to him from the very start. His whole being, every strand of hair and inside of his mind belonged to his father and his father only. He would gladly trade his soul for his father’s well-being, happiness, to extend his lifeline, or as simple as to serve a plate to his tastes, anything. Anything for his father, for he always belonged to him. 

But life is not always that simple. And as much as he wants to stay with his father forever, even residing in his deathbed until the reaper comes for him too, the world just chose to disagree. As much as he wants to, his father would despise it, for all he ever asked in his long life towards Silver was to not give up on living. 

But how can he live life without his father? 

Ever since his father left for the Land of the Red Dragons, he would always sent him letters. Telling stories of any happenings in the Land of  Thorns, or any minor changes in their cottage. How his friends and the people from Night Raven College are doing after graduation. Sometimes he travels overseas too, following his father’s footsteps, telling everything he discovered along his journey in the form of words. He would write frequently, without miss, knowing that the place his father chose to resides is still untouched of modern technology.

His father used to write back to him just as much. About his travels there, the people he met, how the children that used to play around his abode made him reminisce about Silver's childhood back in the day. There were so much things to share with his beloved son, many things to tell even if they're billion feets apart. He would reassure that he's doing good everytime, that there's nothing to worry about and that Silver can stay wherever he wants without needing to worry about him. 

But one day, the letters are coming to a halt. Silver no longer receive replies as frequent, even though he will still receive one during his birthday each year without miss, even though it’s  only filled with wishes for his well-being and none of its contents answered his questions nor is  aligned with the previous letters. 

The catastrophe had elapsed, and not even in those dire situations did his father return

His father wouldn’t leave his son and his beloved pupils to face such dangers alone. 

Not when he’s still breathing

Not when he can use his body as a fae shield

Not when he’s alive

Silver’s not a fool, Deep down he knew, realized that his father may be long gone. Without him on his side. Or his beloved ones. Or his disciple. All alone in a faraway land, where no news of his passing would reach their ears. 

Perhaps that’s what his father planned long ago, when he tried to leave Night Raven College

But what about him? What about Silver, your beloved son? That you hold dear the moment you laid your eyes on him, amidst the darkest thorns? That you raised and nurtured  with utmost genuine love you had never received nor believed you were capable of? What will become of him, now that you’re gone? Do you know how I always, always belonged to you father, my one and only, as  I will forever be your one and only son? What, how-  how would you expect me to live without your presence? Who will soothe me? Who will cradle me in his arms no matter how big I have grown? Who will find me amidst the dark forest during a thunderstorm just to bring me home, back to the warmth of your embrace? Where will I return to? Where is home when there is no you inside? 

Father, it is not that I am incapable of living

I am merely incapable of living in a world without you in it.

If only his father was here. Perhaps the catastrophe wouldn’t become such atrocious turns of events, perhaps many lives could be saved with his father’s abilities. Perhaps his life wouldn’t be led astray. Perhaps living wouldn’t feel as horrible, maybe-

‘We’re here.’ 

His Lord’s voice echoes in front of a huge gate underground, where they’ve been walking this whole time. Silver doesn’t know how far they’ve walked, or how deep they are beneath the surface, but no matter. The entrance creaked open, and along with it the torches inside the room lit up with bright green flames. The young Lord stepped inside, so he followed his footsteps. 

Inside were dolls, many many dolls. From wool, cotton, polyester of some kind, glass, plastic, wood..? Majority of them were mannequins, and Silver can’t help but realize that each and every doll bears some kind of resemblance

They all looked like Yuu- no, Their Highness. 

Both tread their path in silence, where they finally stopped in the heart of the room. There is a large banquet table full of distinct food atop of it, one that will not be found anywhere across the realm of Twisted Wonderland as none of them hailed from here. All which could only come into being along with the existence of the once infamous Ramshackle Prefect, which now people knew as the savior of the catastrophe

Far away in the middle, he sees something that doesn’t belong in the dinner table sitting prettily amidst the crowded cuisine:

A pair of doll

Unlike any other dolls in the room, this one was unique 

It was a gift from the Prefect on his Lord’s 179th birthday, just before his Lord left for his internship in the fourth year. One was supposedly made to resemble himself, and the other was made to resemble the creator. They would exchange their dolls everytime the other was away, as if to relieve their longing by having a miniature of each other. He himself knew because his Lord was exhilarated by this gift, claiming it as one of his most prized possessions. He would bring it with him everywhere and boast it to every person he met, until his father advised him, saying the doll would get damaged faster if he brought it with him everytime.

Now it all clicked in his head

This was his Lord’s attempt to relieve his grief. 

The Lord took a few steps back from the heart of the banquet, bringing the two dolls into the sides as if letting them watch. Silver, understanding the cue, proceeds to climb up the lavish table

‘Lie down’ ordered his Lord 

And so he does. 

With a slight wave of his Lord’s fingers, every single thread on Silver’s body dissipated into thin air.

‘How much are you willing to devote to me?’ asked his Lord, voice devoid of emotions 

‘As much as what my father offered for the kingdom’ 

There’s a pang in his chest on the single word that came from his mouth. His father. Father, father, father- 

A luminescent greenish hue envelopes his frame 

Father, will you return if I crave hard enough?

Sharp claw grazed his skin, slowly at first, before cutting a thin, fine line atop his chest 

Will you welcome me by the door after I’m done playing in the woods? 

Something gripped his chest, and as if on cue, his heart starts beating faster to the touch 

I’m lost, father. Are you on your feet to skim the forest for my presence? 

Enjoying the rhythm in his hands, he placed his face closer, as if to kiss it

Leaning down, he pressed it into his ears. Music soothes a pair of pointy ears, while the other pair weeps in silence

Then came out a sob

Plump tears mixed with the ones inside his body, streaks of translucent joining heaps of scarlet

His Lord was atop of him fully, right hand gripping his heart strong, while the other graze over his lungs

With a loud cry, black fingertips clutched harsh, bursting the lung beneath

Silver gasped, or at least tried to. It’s as if every last piece of oxygen was drained of this world 

His head flinched a bit, before laying helplessly on the other side of the table 

Father, I am in peril. Wouldn’t you come to my rescue now? 

He can feel the grip on his heart tightens. Muttering something along the lines of ‘if only I could give you a beating heart’ and ‘aint such alluring instrument befitting of your beauty, my dearest?’ 

I miss you. Father, please come. I’d do anything for not losing you

Fingers caressed his other lung, going around in circles 

Please. Please come back. I, by the Seven’s name, could not bear to live another day without you

Something pierced through him. Fierce at first, then replaced by something much firmer

Pounding gently, then getting rougher on each stab as if to keep up the pace

I’d trade my whole life for you, father 

It hurts. Everything hurts. He faintly heard whimpers atop of him, but the ache in his heart stings more than the ones on his body 

The motion accelerates as time goes, his already limp body thumping rhythmically with each pound

Your presence is all I ask. Is that too much to ask? 

A splutter. Something filled up his insides. Another fluid, this one much thicker in texture, joined the unsightly mixture of whatever various liquid entered his body since all of this started

I’d rather cease to exist in a world without you, father. 

A stray tear fall 

Even this pain could not distract me from the thought of you.