projectaconitum

[projectaconitum]

Lovely Diabolik Elysium

{ Hell || Abyss || Chasm || Schism: BRUTE || Schism: MANSERVANT || Schism: VAMPIRE || Elysium }

Ankle to ankle, Death has shackled me, Easy to entrance, easy to fall, and yet - "Hope" is no longer an Absentee

"...Reiji, what'd you do?" were the words from Laito's mouth as his emerald eyes drifted over Viola's form. Her color had significantly improved in the past few days, and she actually had the guts to speak a few short words to people other than Reiji tonight, with the exception of Shu. Not only that, but... Laito's eyes lingered on a smile.

"I've no idea what you're talking about," was his automatic reply as Viola tried her best not to scarf down orange-tinged linguine like ramen, ignoring the feeling that she was being quite heavily watched. Which, indeed, five out of six of the brothers were watching her eat.

"You kiddin'?" Ayato asked, irritated as he pointed at Viola with a fork. "That wench was practically a walking corpse a week ago."

"Viola, I'm not going to take it from you. Eat slower," Reiji chided, ignoring Ayato. Though he had never given Viola a reason to think that, as preventing her from eating after he'd deigned to give her food was one of the few cruelties he hadn't inflicted upon her.

"Vitamin C and iron is great, Reiji, but I need some damn carbs. And, anyway, it's your cooking; why are you complaining?" Reiji glanced at her with surprise. As did his brothers. "...sorry."

"No... it's fine." Then it was Viola's turn to be shocked as the sound of Reiji adjusting his glasses reached her ears. "But if you like my cooking so much, then savor it."

"Yes, sir." Satisfied, Reiji took a sip of his tea.

"I don't think I've been so unsettled in decades," Shu muttered, and Reiji shot him a glare.

"Shut up," Viola's voice came out before Reiji's, and again, several astonished looks.

Shu softly yawned, "Since when did you have teeth?" Oddly, Shu had smiled rather than furrow his eyebrows, and Reiji bristled at the obscene sight.

"Viola, enough," Reiji barked when she opened her mouth for a retort, and she flinched as if he'd struck her. Guilt writhed up into the chambers of his heart, taking hold of the tissues and squeezing from the inside.

"I apologize for speaking out of turn," she replied softly. He ached to inform her that fear had shaken his mind he didn't want Shu to take interest in her, but how could he do such a thing in the moment?

"I didn't know you were such a possessive freak, Reiji," Shu remarked, lazily leaning back in his chair, his blue eyes meeting his little brother's magenta ones before he stared up at the ceiling instead.

A confused air rippled from the others as Reiji stiffened. How? How could that good-for-nothing realize it? They rarely spoke, so why...?

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" he added, interrupting Reiji's short, angry rebuttal. "No, of course you do. There is no universe where you would rebuke someone for displaying dislike towards me, and yet you did. Because you're terrified I'll kill her in retaliation for what you've done."

Reiji resisted the urge to groan. Even supposing he refuted Shu's claim, there was a high probability he would try to kill Viola regardless. And if Shu knew for certain...

"Reiji." A tug on his sleeve, and Reiji turned towards his woman with some surprise. "It's fine."

The careless remark made the vampire snap.

"No, it certainly IS NOT!" he growled at her, standing and yanking Viola up by her arm. He was walking away from the dinner table, into the next room. He didn't even see Shu's eyes widening, not that he would have cared. "What does it take for you to understand that I did not spend time keeping you alive just to have you die?!"

"I... was thinking about it, and... ultimately, you will live and I will die. Even if you were to give me every life-prolonging drug under the sun, and I do not suffer some kind of accident, I would still die. If such an accident were to happen sooner rather than later, then..."

"No!" Reiji shouted, and Viola jolted as he took a fierce hold of her shoulders. "I would far sooner kill every last one of my brothers, starting with that worthless good-for-nothing!"

"Reiji..." The vampire breathed in irregular bursts, his fangs on full display as his eyes wavered. Viola gave him a sad look. "You spent so much time berating me for pursuing something that would bear no fruit for all my labor, but why are you doing the same?"

"I am not you!" he retorted hotly, and she shriveled a little. "Why must you insist upon underestimating my abilities?! Stop being so conceited to think that we could possibly be compared!"

Viola fell silent after that and stared at the ground in a mixture of shame and doubt. Reiji continued regardless.

"You are blind, incompetent, and dependent. Someone of your caliber could never manage to do something like prolonging your life!" Reiji paused, as if he had suddenly realized something, before a wide grin stole over his face. "Ah... Viola, I can assure you will not die while you continue to live by my side. Even if it means I must take measures that would be normally be unacceptable."

"Assure?" Viola inquired, shocked as she looked up at the vampire. Why? Some relaxation had entered his face. "What makes you so sure...?" Reiji softly chuckled to himself.

"I don't believe you need to know, as I certainly have no plans of doing such a thing now... Particularly considering it is irreversible, and I certainly don't favor the idea of-" Reiji stopped himself, prompting even more of Viola's curiosity as he flicked his glasses off and compulsively cleaned them. He found himself feeling glad for not the first time that she was blind.

"Reiji?"

"It's nothing. I imagine my brothers have left the dining hall without me to keep them there, so you will collect all of their dishes, dispose of their uneaten food, and wash the ceramics carefully. I do not want a single chip on any of those plates, or you will be punished accordingly."

"...understood."

"And," Reiji added as he pushed Viola back in the direction of the dining hall, "If you actually perform well for once, I may decide to reward you." Viola's mouth dropped open, and she turned to look back at him.

Impulsively, Reiji brushed his lips against her cheek, only deciding halfway through, in his surprise at himself, not to kiss the flesh before he dragged his mouth to her ear instead. "Is there something wrong with that?" It was a surprisingly genuine question.

"No, I just... didn't expect it." Viola backed away, and Reiji found himself feeling a ridiculous amount of pride in the fact that she seemed to be self-conscious with those pinkened cheeks of hers. "I didn't think I'd hear the word 'reward' from you." Reiji scoffed and pulled her back towards him with a smirk.

"And yet I believe I told you that I was the only one who could give you any form of pleasure." Viola reddened further, her ears starting to burn crimson.

"Don't say it like that!" she protested, and Reiji let out a short, amused laugh. "I'm not a masochist!"

"I never said you were," Reiji teased, and Viola spluttered.

"Weren't you always talking about me being a whore for pain or something?!"

"I was just insulting you. If you really enjoyed it, I wouldn't have bothered with minor punishments."

"Th-Then..." Viola looked around her, comically, before she leaned up to whisper in Reiji's ear. And, steadily, the woman in front of him wasn't the only one pink in the face.

"I..." He rubbed his cheeks. "Your mind is a dirty place, Viola." Although Reiji would begrudgingly admit such an idea would certainly be worth pursuing before he found the need to steal away the warmth of her human blood in exchange for a lukewarm, loosely affiliated variety.

"You're the one saying dirty things with a straight face!"

Reiji couldn't help himself from breaking into laughter, and moments later, Viola's laughter joined it. Though he would not have consciously acknowledged it, he would do anything to restore and preserve such a delicate thing.

There was no real way for him to know the depths of its damage, nor how to repair it in the first place, and yet he found himself compelled - no, obsessed - with it.

With her.

++ Thank you to those of you that managed to read through this shitty short fiction on Reiji despite its inconsistent updates. I created this side blog to curate a mysterious horror collection™, but in the end, I alas cannot resist the allure of my usual notes to my audience. You are always appreciated. ++

[projectaconitum]

A1 ~ "I Wanted More Than This."

I wanted more. 

“Is this really what this amounts to? Just a lukewarm hello and something no one will remember? Including me?”

There was nothing left to me. I escaped the enormous nothing that sat in the corner for all those years. I escaped it, and yet it’s coming back to chase me again. It’s coming back, saying “it’s time to rip everything you’ve ever gained away from you.”

There was nothing. There was no one. The isolation was so crippling that it felt as if I was the only one in the world who could ever understand how it could possibly feel. Maybe I am the only one who understands my specific loneliness. 

“I’m not lonely.” / “Atashi wa koduku janai”

It’s funny, honestly. I contradict my own wishes with vague answers and not-funny lies, all while knowing that everyone in my life will buy every single word. That is my existence. A mask. A shell. And sometimes I wonder if that mask even exists, if I ever had anything under it in the first place. That I am, in reality, nothing more than a reflection of those I want to impress. 

The day I told you the words “I love you,” I thought my heart would leap out of my chest. I thought that everything had finally fallen into place, and yet frustration has reared its ugly head and told me that nothing has really been mine in the first place. Because she came back to haunt me. 

I’m making her into the villain, and I know it, but I can’t stop myself. I’m angry at her, and I don’t want to let go of it. But I don’t ever want to tell her just how angry I am, because I don’t want to do that to her. She doesn’t deserve that. 

Look at me being high and mighty. Hah. It’s really laughable. Honestly. To think I would be trapped inside the confines of the imagination and creativity which pulled me through everything else, it’s a wondrously twisted trick of fate. Ah... I keep falling, deeper and deeper until there’s nothing else left. If there was anything left in the first place. 

I never thought I would say those words to anyone. I never thought I would tell them to anyone. I never thought I would allow a single soul to see the tangled wreck of a person I am underneath my fragile shell, but in the end I suppose that’s just how it is. Appearances. All of it. Love. Hatred. Desire. All of it, and to what end?

To what end?

Ah... it’s painful. This assuredly sweet yet beautiful and transient pain, which bears down into my shattered dregs of soul, leaves scars like cracks in glass. If my heart is a gemstone, then it is neither beautiful nor valuable. To others, it is a warm ball of sunlight, open to the air and offers a warmth. To me, it is cold and rough as ice. 

[projectaconitum]

Of Love and Death | Masterlist

Diabolik Lovers

Lovely Diabolik Hell || Sakamaki Reiji x OC short story

1. Hell 2. Abyss 3. Chasm 4. Schism: BRUTE 5. Schism: MANSERVANT 6. Schism: VAMPIRE 7. Elysium

Façade || Sakamaki Laito x OC short story (plan.)

Dark BS Based Off Songs

I Whispered Love Me, Love Me, Love Me

Heart of Aconite

(i.e. personal musings upon the human condition, journal fragments and original stories that verge on the creepy or unhinged side.)

Nobility in Sorrow (musing) Solitary Confinement (story) A1 ~ More Than This (musing)

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Lovely Diabolik Schism [ VAMPIRE ]

{ Hell || Abyss || Chasm || Schism: BRUTE || Schism: MANSERVANT || Schism: VAMPIRE || Elysium }

"Viola, leave your room at once," came Reiji's voice through the door to her room. Rather, his room, which she had been using at his insistence since his father had orchestrated the "fiasco" (as Reiji liked to call it) of a formal gathering.

"You killed him, didn't you?" she mumbled her head pressed tight to her upraised knees. "You found him, and you killed him. You killed the only man that ever even gave a thought to wanting me."

"Even if I did," Reiji said, laying his hand on the doorknob, tempted to open it, "Why should that matter when the only way you will leave my side is as a corpse?"

"Is a blind, incompetent servant that valuable to you?" she asked bitterly. "Is abusing me the only thing that fuels your miserable ego and satisfies your wicked sadism?"

Reiji blinked at the door.

"Why are you trying to run back to him?" Reiji asked, irritation rapidly building in his voice, and he bit his tongue until it bled to stop himself from asking that painfully revealing question---

Why am I not good enough?

---

Vampire

In torturous tranquility, Reiji waited for an answer, and he opened his mouth to demand an answer when Viola unlocked and opened the door to look up at the vampire in all her red-nosed, snivelly majesty.

"I don't know anymore," she replied, her voice nearly inaudible. "I'll never get it back, and I'll never feel the way he made me feel again, so what's the point? Why shouldn't I just fucking kill myself?"

"You already tried by proxy, but I still want you alive, you worthless woman," he murmured, his eyes lingering over her bloodshot eyes. The blind eyes that were fixed elsewhere. "Just what makes you think that the empty void that thing left behind can be filled by nothing else?" By no one else.

"I've tried," she whispered back, almost pleadingly. Perhaps a request for mercy, or perhaps...?

"Clearly, not hard enough." To some of his surprise, Reiji watched outrage blaze up into her eyes. The outrage of someone who had tried and tried and tried again. And tried. And tried.

Reiji was amazed she hadn't struck him with the sheer amount of anger quivering in her expression, and that surprise only escalated as a face of resign stared up at him instead.

"I must not have," she replied with a bitter, hollow laugh that made Reiji's heart wither. "It must be my fault. Just like it must be my fault that he broke away without saying a word. I just didn't try hard enough." The self-loathing in her voice dripped with a poison she clearly longed to drink, and Reiji gritted his teeth.

Why did he (she) have to fight a man that was dead to her?

"Why don't you understand that you're better off as a maid to me rather than a lover to him?!" Reiji snapped out, unable to restrain himself, and Viola's blank stare barely brought a hint of sense into his frustration. "Humans are greedy, arrogant sacks of blood, so why don't you just get down on your knees and beg for my attention?"

Viola continued to stare, and though her eyes remained unfocused, Reiji realized her attention was fully on him. The attention he had craved.

"If..." Viola hesitated, and tears bloomed into the corners of her eyes again as her voice warbled and threatened to fail. "If I got down on my knees... would you hug me?"

Reiji was so astonished by the question that he nearly forgot to respond at all. And yet, his body was moving as if someone else had prodded him forward. His arms were already around her, and he was almost confused as the scent of her body filled his nose. He had known he was doing it, and yet it hadn't fully registered.

"Rei... ji?" she mumbled, her trembling hands nevertheless reaching up his back. Gradually holding him - squeezing him! - in her fragile arms, a gesture which made both their hearts tremble. It was nice, she thought, for someone like him to shove her tearstained, snotty face against his shoulder.

"I... don't need you to beg for something like this," Reiji eventually mumbled into her shoulder. She was warm. It was comfortable.

He didn't want her to leave.

"But it's not for free," Reiji added after a moment, and some apprehension littered its way over her mood. "You... You will keep me company... and stay in my arms while I sleep. Understood?" He didn't dare look at her face. He didn't want to see her disgust.

"...that's an odd way of asking to cuddle," she replied once the shock has disappeared from her visage, and Reiji was surprised by the faint humor in her voice. The teasing humor.

For the first time since he'd met Viola, there was the barest hint of life breaking through her shell of misery.

"Silence. I don't want to cuddle." He really did.

"I didn't know you had this kind of side." An embarrassingly crooked giggle slipped from her mouth, as if her vocal cords had forgotten how to do it properly.

"I said shut up."

Despite himself, Reiji smiled an almost childlike grin.

Satisfaction, perhaps, that he had won his fight with a dead man. Could it have been contentment with the feel of some form of affection for the first time in hundreds of years? Delight, at the prospect of her utter subservience?

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

[projectaconitum]

Lovely Diabolik Schism [ MANSERVANT ]

{ Hell || Abyss || Chasm || Schism: BRUTE || Schism: MANSERVANT || Schism: VAMPIRE || Elysium }

"Viola, leave your room at once," came Reiji's voice through the door to her room. Rather, his room, which she had been using at his insistence since his father had orchestrated the "fiasco" (as Reiji liked to call it) of a formal gathering.

"You killed him, didn't you?" she mumbled her head pressed tight to her upraised knees. "You found him, and you killed him. You killed the only man that ever even gave a thought to wanting me."

"Even if I did," Reiji said, laying his hand on the doorknob, tempted to open it, "Why should that matter when the only way you will leave my side is as a corpse?"

"Is a blind, incompetent servant that valuable to you?" she asked bitterly. "Is abusing me the only thing that fuels your miserable ego and satisfies your wicked sadism?"

Reiji blinked at the door.

"Why are you trying to run back to him?" Reiji asked, irritation rapidly building in his voice, and he bit his tongue until it bled to stop himself from asking that painfully revealing question---

Why am I not good enough?

---

Manservant

Only silence answered Reiji, and he leaned against the door for a long, painful moment. Wondering, waiting,

"Answer me," he called, the edge unintentionally falling from his voice as his hand pressed down onto the door handle, and Viola heard some part of the metal protest at the force. It startled her, and it startled the vampire more when the door croaked its way open.

"I loved him," were the words that accompanied the cracking of the lock, and Reiji halted in the threshold as he saw Viola's miserable, pitiful expression.

"Why?" Reiji asked again, feeling his hands stiffen as they started to squeeze into fists. "What was so special about him that you broke down into a miserable excuse for a living creature when he cast you off?"

Viola's eyes filled with fresh tears, and Reiji almost instinctively reached his hand out to her, but what kind of right did he have?

"He... He was funny." The words were barely more than a trickle from her barely parted lips, but as she continued to speak, those words turned to a river. "I-I was teaching him math, and he always grinned at me in that no-good way before he bought me gummies no matter how many times I insisted it wasn't necessary." She curled her knees tight to herself, as if they hadn't already been grinding into her bones.

"He lectured me to take care of myself and ate lunch with me. He, he always used to fluff my hair, a-and the day I rested my head on his chest was the most comfortable..." Viola cut herself short and hiccuped. Sobbed. "I-I wanted... I wanted our... relationship to last longer than a few days. I-It hurt. It hurt so much. It still hurts."

Reiji could only stand, frozen to the spot as he watched his servant break in a way he had never been able to see through all his sadistic whims. It was heavy, emotional pain. Pain that did not heal, like a wound that continued to fester, rotting her away piece by piece. Devouring her until only the dead flies that arrived too late to feed remained.

And it was not a pain that made him happy to see.

"Stop it," Reiji scolded her as he finally moved from his spot, and when she wouldn't listen, he angrily slapped his hands onto her shoulders, gripping them hard enough to leave marks. "I said stop it!"

"Can't you let me cry about it?" she asked frailly, shaking in his hands. "Can't you even give me that much?" Her body in that moment, to Reiji, felt like chinaware. An easily shattered collector's item. Why had he collected her, he wondered?

"No," Reiji cruelly whispered, although his tone did not match his cruelty. "He's dead, and there is not a single dead soul on this godforsaken earth that should ever garner your attention. You belong to me. How you feel about it is irrelevant. I will whip you, poison you, hurt you every time your mind strays. All you have to do is be an obedient container of blood... that's the only thing you have to think about."

Reiji's hands grew lax around her shoulders, and he raised her wrist to his mouth. Felt her lukewarm pulse against his chill lips. "And I will remind you... over... and over... and over... as many times as it takes." His teeth pricked her skin, drawing thin rivulets of blood that his mouth closed over, his tongue darting over the wounds.

She did not pull away from him as his fangs sunk into the edge of her palm, her fingers brushing his face.

"Then make me forget about him... any way you like," she murmured in sorrow, and he squeezed her hand all-too-tightly as he stared into her expression. That person would be completely erased.

Forever.

[projectaconitum]

Lovely Diabolik Schism [ BRUTE ]

{ Hell || Abyss || Chasm || Schism: BRUTE || Schism: MANSERVANT || Schism: VAMPIRE || Elysium }

"Viola, leave your room at once," came Reiji's voice through the door to her room. Rather, his room, which she had been using at his insistence since his father had orchestrated the "fiasco" (as Reiji liked to call it) of a formal gathering.

"You killed him, didn't you?" she mumbled her head pressed tight to her upraised knees. "You found him, and you killed him. You killed the only man that ever even gave a thought to wanting me."

"Even if I did," Reiji said, laying his hand on the doorknob, tempted to open it, "Why should that matter when the only way you will leave my side is as a corpse?"

"Is a blind, incompetent servant that valuable to you?" she asked bitterly. "Is abusing me the only thing that fuels your miserable ego and satisfies your wicked sadism?"

Reiji blinked at the door.

"Why are you trying to run back to him?" Reiji asked, irritation rapidly building in his voice, and he bit his tongue until it bled to stop himself from asking that painfully revealing question---

Why am I not good enough?

---

Brute

"It's not like you'd get it," she retorted. "It's not like... you'd get how I feel, so just... if you're going to kill me, just get it over with. Leave me alone."

Unable to stop himself any longer, Reiji threw the door open, breaking his lock, and Viola jerked her head up at him, her reddened, swollen eyes full of tears. Her nose, rosy and dripping down to her chin, down to the wet spot on the uniform that Reiji had her wear.

He approached her, gripping the front of her shirt with his fangs bared. He was feeling something snapping inside him, his nerves on fire. Feelings of inferiority swept through his mind, and rather than confront it, blind rage replaced it.

He slapped her. Her head might have come clean off if he hadn't remembered to restrain himself at the last second.

"Don't test my patience," he hissed as she clutched her swelling cheek, tears bubbling up into her eyes and spilling down her cheeks as blood filled her mouth. The scent was beyond tempting. Beyond horrible.

She stared at her bedsheets before she eventually turned her gaze back at her furious captor. A gaze that pierced.

"I forgot... how much I hated the sight of your eyes," she whispered with a mocking, forlorn and dishonest smile. She had regained her sight, but it didn't matter, now did it?

Reiji grabbed her by the throat and shoved her into the bed, blood spilling from her mouth incessantly. His wrath had turned to a white-hot poker, hotter than the branding that had stolen her vision.

And all Reiji could think about was the fact that behind her eyes, there was an affection she would not give him. She loved him. She loved Reiji.

Why, neither could fathom, and yet she would not give that love to him. It was a love that had been stolen by someone else, someone who had taken it clean away, far from where Reiji could touch it.

He barely stopped himself from crushing her windpipe in his hands, but the relief she might have felt from the new air that entered her lungs when he let go was short-lived.

She didn't care, so he didn't care either.

Reiji opened his mouth and murderously sunk his fangs into the depths of a carotid artery, her bittersweet blood spraying his tongue, drenching the back of his throat. His throat bobbed up and down, up and down, his nose harshly drawing in inconsistent breaths.

It had been a while since he heard her scream like that.

"Louder," he growled, ripping her uniform apart from the shoulder as his teeth dug bloody furrows into her pale neck. The pale neck that was leaking crimson waterfalls into her bed. "Loud enough for the deadbeat upstairs to hear you suffer at my hands."

And she did let out a louder screech as he ripped into her shoulder, his fingers bruising her wrists as he held her down. She screeched and shrieked until her voice gave out, and all that could be heard was the sound of a weakening struggle. The sound of teeth breaking skin, of Reiji's harried breaths, of the occasional slurp.

And the sound of silence.

[projectaconitum]

Solitary Confinement

“Wer mit Ungeheuern kämpft, mag zusehn, dass er nicht dabei zum Ungeheuer wird. Und wenn du lange in einen Abgrund blickst, blickt der Abgrund auch in dich hinein.” -- Friedrich Nietzsche✝

The twirling of fingers, quick and fidgeting. The gnawing of loose skin off a rough pair of lips. The shifting, restless gaze around the pale pink room. Click, click. A pen. Breathing. Breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Slow. Slowly. More slowly. 

Until you stop breathing. 

Inhale. Exhale. 

“Okeleh, are ye lis’nin’ to meh?” Brown, dark eyes and the heavy Scottish accent. The scent of air freshener discolored by stains of nicotine and cancer. The clean shave, the shining wedding ring. The poster on the wall of a single drop of water falling into a clear pool, reading CALM in bold Times New Roman. Maybe it was Georgia. Like anyone could tell the difference.  Click click.  

“I don’t know how to describe it.” 

Yes, you do. 

“Cahn ye tdry?”

“It’s like... a sea of color amidst all of the grey.” They popped a knuckle. Crack. Crack-crack. Two, three. “Like it’s all worth something, just that I don’t know what it is. It’s such an abstract sense.” 

Color? Is that what you’re calling it? 

The rasp of breath, just barely brushing against the ear, overriding the scratching of the pen—blue—on paper. A beautiful blue, more beautiful than any other blue. Consuming. Devouring. Until nothing but a blue oblivion remains. 

Is that what you call this? 

“An’ this ‘coluh’ful sense’ of youhs—where do ye think et’s cohmin’ from?” The polite inquiry suggesting at something more, cautioning them away from the drowning sky. An array of possible diagnoses coiling around his pen, all depending on typical responses. But what about atypical responses? Could he understand that? Could he understand OAKLEY?   

“I have no idea. I just feel it randomly.” Was that the truth or a lie? So many lies to keep track of that they’re all blending together into a confusing, tangled mess. White lies, black lies, bleak lies, fake lies. It was all grey, just like the music playing outside. It was a pathetic excuse for a song—just white noise bleeding through the speaker without any emotional weight. Grey noise. 

“I encourage ye to keep tdrack ohf when ye feel these emotional highs,” he replied, even as he put his pen down with a smile. “Learnin’ what makes ye heppiest es emportant so thaht we cahn take steps togetheh toward solvin’ yer problems.” He stood, the door swinging open as he beckoned Oakley out of it. “Keep practicin’ stayin’ out of yer ‘ead. There’re odter people ouht an about wate’in’ for ye to cohme and greet them, ye knoh?”

“Of course. Thanks as usual, Ross.”    

“See ye next week. Ye hev a good daye now.” 

“You too.” Tap, tap, clack, clack. Creeak. 

The lips, smooth and thin and deadly, against the base of their throat, sharper than any knife and yet not a drop of blood spilled. The hand, a manacle clinging between their fingers, digging into their skin. The music was louder now, although Oakley couldn’t hear it. Oakley never really heard it. It was just grey noise. Everything, everyone, was an unspecified grey noise, lingering undefined in the recesses of humanity’s follies and triumphs. 

Everything except me.

“I wish you would shut the fuck up,” Oakley mumbled, talking to no one in particular, although “no one” was responding well enough with their brand of horrid love-hate. They saw blue again inside the colorfully colorless world. Yes, it was a beautiful azure world in which they had been encapsulated for only no one to enjoy.

You love this world. 

“Shut up.” 

You love me.

“Shut. Up.” 

Laughter rang out against the walls of the deserted, lime-yellow waiting room, conceited and irritating and contagious. Neither feminine nor masculine, nor even genderless. Shifting and changing, as variable as a hundred thousand blues. Should Oakley laugh too?

 You come back every time like an addict looking for a fix. 

A gentle caress on Oakley’s face and the touch of bloodless skin, slowly moving across their cheek to gently play with their upper lip. An indistinguishable face hovered in the peripheral, sometimes familiar, sometimes not. Their breathing slowed down, their eyes closing to greet the shadows. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. 

And you never want me to leave you. Spoiled rotten child.

Exhale. Exhale. Exhale. 

That’s right. You belong to “No One.” That is how it has always been, and that is how it always will be. You understand, don’t you? 

✝ The original German of one of Nietzsche’s most famous quotes, “Whoever battles monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster himself. And when you look long into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you.”

[projectaconitum]

Lovely Diabolik Chasm

{ Hell || Abyss || Chasm || Schism: BRUTE || Schism: MANSERVANT || Schism: VAMPIRE || Elysium }

It's not easy to hope.

7

"Reiji?" came Viola's inquiring, muted voice as she waltzed in perfect time with the vampire. There was nothing to see, and yet something felt off about her captor (caretaker) today, on this particular night. Was it his father, whose ominous and foreign presence was causing an intense feeling of tension in the room? Was it the feeling of other vampires coveting what belonged to him? Or was it something unrelated to the gathering tonight?

"I don't like it," was Reiji's response, full of a coldness like ice slicing through a lukewarm sea.

Viola's curiosity usurped her timid demeanor.

"Why?" She thought about adding all the reasons for her question, as if to excuse it from being asked, although she failed to add anything, distracted by the ear-scraping high note of a violin. She was surprised that he even answered when he seemed to be distracted.

"Father has not removed his eyes from you since the moment I presented you. He should not be interested at all in someone as dull and tasteless as you."

Viola fell silent, taking his insult as a sign to be quiet.

"My lady," someone said from her side, and there was a leaden pause. "Would you care to swap dancing partners?"

SLAP!!!

The hall filled up with a drowning, festering silence as Reiji dragged Viola across the hall with his fingers clamped tight on her hand.

8

"Rei-"

"Be silent." Reiji's voice, low and full of anger, hushed Viola more quickly than any words could possibly manage. His chilly breath puffed onto her neck in uneven bursts, and she wondered what the correct response would be. He did not always like it when she bared her neck. "Turn away from me."

She could do nothing but obey, not knowing what he was about to do but afraid of his retribution. Despite his frequent punishments, it was rare that the vampire was actually furious with her; suffice to say that such a thing was terrifying.

He'll kill me. He'll kill me, and he'll love it, but who cares? Who cares?

Viola flinched as she felt Reiji's fingers unhook the top of her dress, the zipper sliding down so far that the dress would have left her naked if her arms weren't encased in its sleeves.

"I can't stand it," Reiji muttered, and Viola jumped as one cool hand traced over the Sakamaki brand on her back. Despite his anger, his fingers were so light on her skin they could have been feathers. It tickled, forcing her to stifle a terrified chortle.

Contrary to her expectation, Reiji responded with a soft chuckle, his anger losing its edge. "Feels pleasant, does it not? Don't forget that I am the only one..." He squeezed Viola close to him, his lips tracing across her nape, down her spine, over her scapula. "...who can give such a thing to you."

He opened his mouth on her shoulder and bit into her, sinking his fangs in as if it were a highly intimate act rather than an indulgence in his craving for blood.

Over and over again, he fed on Viola's back, where no one would ever see those greedy, bright red marks he left behind. Where no one would see his perverse desires on display.

No one, except him.

9

"What was his name?"

It was a question asked out of the blue, and it was a question that Viola didn't know how to answer. She'd been eating cranberry pie, which Reiji had made "on a whim" after seeing her devour a similar strawberry pie he made. As expected, she liked it.

"His name?" she said, her question just as blank as her stare. "Karlheinz?"

"The name of the lover who cast you away."

Viola fell silent.

"Why do you want to know something like that?" She already knew why he was asking; she was surprisingly sharp in that respect.

"That doesn't concern you."

She thought about telling him that she would rather die than give him a name. She thought about asking him why it even bothered him in the first place. She thought about begging him not to do anything.

I still love you, even though you (must have) never loved me.

"Azar," she said, looking forward listlessly. "Azar Acharya."

"Revolting," Reiji muttered as tears glittered in Viola's deprived eyes, and she flinched as he brushed at her eyelashes. "In fact, if you ever say that name again, I'll cut you with my whip."

Viola did not understand how his words could be so sharp, and yet his voice could be so gentle. It was a knife, she thought, that she could gladly take to her throat.

[projectaconitum]

Lovely Diabolik Abyss

{ Hell || Abyss || Chasm || Schism: BRUTE || Schism: MANSERVANT || Schism: VAMPIRE || Elysium }

It's easy to fall.

4

"DIE! DIE!" Kanato screamed as he kicked Viola's body. She clutched her ears, squeezing her blind eyes shut by instinct. "HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT TO ME?!"

Viola whimpered, although she said nothing as the vampire savagely caused bruises to bloom.

"Kanato!" a harsh, familiar voice chipped in, and Reiji made quick strides towards his younger half-brother, his magenta eyes narrowed with wild irritation bordering on fury.

"What do you want?" Kanato muttered, his pupils darting towards Reiji for a moment before focusing again on Viola. "Just now... did you smile?" Kanato's small yet brutal fist nested itself in Viola's hair. "Hey, answer me."

"Kanato," Reiji said again, his voice darkening by shades, "That woman belongs to me."

The purple-haired man's brows narrowed for a moment before he, eventually, let go of Viola, giving her a final, resentful kick to her ribcage before he left, squeezing his beloved Teddy for dear life.

"Honestly..." Reiji muttered as he gazed upon Viola's sorry state. "I thought I told you there was no need to ever leave your room. You only have yourself to blame."

"I'm sorry," she gasped between rough, ugly coughs. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears, but they refused to spill. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." It sounded like her voice was broken.

Reiji stared at her for a long moment before deciding that she might die if he didn't do something for her. This was becoming a habit, but he supposed it gave him a great opportunity to test some of his drugs.

5

"Why am I alive?" were Viola's first words when she woke from her fitful sleep. The vampire glanced at her as he capped a tincture he had just applied to her wounds. Her eyes were red with agitation, her lips chapped and freshly scabbed.

"Do you mean to tell me that your little excursion was an attempt to escape?" Reiji asked her dangerously, but she shook her head, staring blankly across the room.

"I... got lost, looking for a glass of water. I was thirsty, and I was feeling my way through the hallway when I bumped into Kanato... then I thought when he started whaling on me that... maybe this was just how it was supposed to be. Maybe I've been fighting to live for too long."

Reiji stared at her for a long moment. At the pathetic woman who had fallen so far. She had been hopeless to begin with, but now it simply hurt to even look at her.

"I did not see you fighting at any point," Reiji replied, and Viola flinched at the roughness in his tone. "You came here a broken woman, and you only threw yourself deeper into despair, begging to be punished for living. Honestly, to classify that as a "struggle" is a pathetic excuse. You just want the pain."

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" Viola asked, for the first time raising her voice at the vampire, her fingers clutching the blankets with vicious intensity. Fat tears dribbled from her eyes, and she gritted her teeth. "I have never longed for anything more than to be so deeply cared for that I and my significant other are inseparable. I have wasted years upon years of my life, wishing that I would meet someone who actually makes me feel happy to be around them. The only man I have ever loved wants nothing to do with me. I have nothing, now. Nothing except pain."

For a moment, Reiji was stunned at Viola's sudden outburst. She never once had an ounce of resistance, but now?

"...if it is pain you want..." Reiji murmurs, grabbing hold of Viola's wrist. "Then pain I will give you."

Although he had said, many weeks prior, that her blood did not interest him in the slightest, he dragged her closer and sunk his fangs deep into her neck.

6

"Straighter," Reiji warned, pressing his palm to Viola's back, and she confusedly tried to obey, though her back was already as straight as a ruler. The book fell off her head with a dull thump, and Reiji sighed. "Father is visiting tomorrow; can you not act with just the slightest amount of decorum?"

"I'm sorry..."

"And do not wince every time I touch you. Your jerky movements are an eyesore." Reiji pauses for a moment before he leads Viola to the small table next to his favorite reading spot, guiding her hands towards his teapot. "Find the cup and pour."

For a moment, Viola struggled, and Reiji was tempted to cruelly take the teacup from the table and hold it in front of her sightless eyes, although the urge passed as her fingers brushed the cup's lip, and she carefully aligned the spout to the inside of the cup. She poured, hesitating about halfway full, before filling it three-quarters of the way.

"Drink it, and do not make a sound."

Viola stares into Reiji's general direction, startled.

"Me?"

"Do you hear anyone else in this room? Do as I say." And, with hesitant fingers, Viola obediently raises the teacup to her lips, taking a slow, careful sip without complaint.

"It seems you're not entirely hopeless," Reiji remarked as she eventually finished it in utter confusion. "Then, let us see if I can teach you to be a proper lady by the end of today. Don't disappoint me."

As Reiji took Viola by the hand, calling familiars to create music for his enjoyment, he smiled, briefly, to himself as he tucked a vial of liquid painkiller into his pocket.

[projectaconitum]

Love Me, Love Me, Love Me.

I reach out to grasp you, but my greedy fingers meet neither cloth nor skin. Air closes against my palm, and I can feel myself suffocating. My throat closes, and my lungs shrivel. Why? the Cursed Necklace whispers against my ear. Why?

Aren't I kind? Aren't I considerate? Aren't I empathetic?

Aren't I intelligent? Aren't I funny? Aren't I giving?

Hey, am I not a lovable woman?

Snakes coil, trying to comfort themselves in the warmth of my neck, but I cannot breathe, my knees crumpling underneath me. I dream of air. I dream of tasting it, of the cool, languid breeze. I dream of a nostalgic petrichor I have no right to possess.

And yet, as another kneels to extend a hand to me, and the snakes loosen their hold, the air is stale and lukewarm—

(just like a snake's stomach)

—and I cannot help but wonder if that other is to blame. Is there any point if freedom is a slower misery? I wonder, why am I the only one who feels so suffocated in a painful tangle of jealousy and self-loathing?

Why am I so imperfect, why am I so lonely, when all I have ever striven to be is beautiful in body and soul?

Twisting black and white sings against my ears, and I close my eyes to the concerned face staring into mine. That face knows not what I think, nor what I feel. I start to think, "What if I desired your company in hell? What then?"

Smoke fills my nose, and I realize it in bitter, hilarious agony as my hands clutch your throat.

My strangled self had long been damaged beyond repair.

[projectaconitum]

Lovely Diabolik Hell

{ Hell || Abyss || Chasm || Schism: BRUTE || Schism: MANSERVANT || Schism: VAMPIRE || Elysium }

It's easy to be entranced.

0

A story begins with a "once upon a time", and this story is no different. Once upon a time, there was a woman. A woman who would cast away everything, down to her humanity.

---

Azar,

I am sorry that you no longer feel comfortable around me, though I may not know the reason why. You are the only man I have ever loved, and I hope you will be happy. Forever.

--Yours, Viola

---

No one saw her leave her house. Her belongings had been abandoned. Dr. Eclez inquired after her, yet no response came from his students.

Once a missing person report was issued, her face was found by chance, as a peculiar photographer had caught sight of her entering a mansion known well for its ominous presence.

1

"...the eldest ṣ̴̮̗̒̒̄͋o̸̡͖͉̼͚̻̱̥͗̆̓̎̚n̸̲͉͛,̶̰̟͙͔̪̓̃̑̀ ̵̗̻̥̩̥̺̬̠̪̘̓ͅS̷̗̀͜ḥ̸̝̦̜̤́̏̈́̅͝ṳ̴̖̥̍̈́͛

Ý̵̦̏́o̴̧̮̅̽̓̐̏̂͊ͅu̷̡̖͚̜͇̹̝͗́̂̔̀̐͝ŗ̷̲̖̝̦̐̂̔̃̇͘͝s̴̛̟̗̯̯̳̔̿́̉́͝ ̸͔̺̼͚͙́̿́͒͐ť̴̢̝͎͔̗ͅr̶̤̳͋͐̀̊̀̅ǔ̷̫̭l̶͇͕̺̀͆̃y̸̞͙̋̔ ̷̡̭̝̈́̉̀ will ̶̡̠̝̞͚̬̟̒̈́s̶̨̯̼̪̿̅̊̕͠u̵͎̮̱̗̽͊̓͋̂͜͜ͅc̵͓̲͌̒̏͛k̴̨̲̪͇̞̺͐͜ ̵̧̪̗͙͖̺̓you dry.

A̷̛̦̳̞̟̹̩̓͋̕ͅr̸̪̻͚͉̩̝̯̺̙̓̿͛̐ě̴̫̦͇̲̞̲̙͎̅̏̀͗̄̆̌͘͝ ̶̳̃̈́̃̐́͋̈́͑̓̕ÿ̷̨̢̼̥̮̺͙̒̈́̊̏͂̀o̴͕͙̜̳͈̝̬̙̎̍̐̍̀̿̃̓͒͘͜u̴̘̞̱̗̮̼̫͖̭̇̐͗̽̓͝ ̷͎̹̟͎͓̣̊̄͌͂͋̈́l̸̨̢͈̮̝͙̠̯̟͋̄͋͛̈́̄͘i̷̹̭̣̫̤͛́̂̂͐̿̿́̕s̷̛̳͎̭̬̆̄́t̶̲̊̌̂̾́̉͗̀̚e̶̠͇̱̔n̸͚̹̯̺̳͖̝̺̞͓̐͗̄̅̃̕͝͝͠į̴̨̗͎̩̳̻̼̘͔̓̂̔͆̑̓́̈n̴̢̨͖̐́͌̓̐ͅg̵͕̝̔́̑̉͘̚,̵̧̙̼͉͍̪̲͕͌ͅ ̴̼͎̯̿͊̿͊̋̈́̚B̵̧̜͙̟̙̯͍̘̈̾̈į̸̻̼̖͇̋̔̉̈̈́̽̑͘t̸̪̞̑͗͂̋͑͋ç̷͍̖̲̻̝̊́͋̒̀̏̓̚͝͠h̴͔͓̦̙̲̜͈͈̑̎̅̚͠-̴̧̧͓͖͇͉͆́c̷͎͍̙̪̙̳͑̉̓̀̆͝ͅh̶͙͓̺͓̞̮́̽͜ȃ̴̗͎̼̬͕͇ñ̴͚̞̱̇̒͆͆̏͆̂̚͘~̵̅͌͛̒͋̏̔̋̕��̤̰͙̦̳̠̳̮̹͓?̶̺͔̑̓̉̔͐͊̿̆

"̴̛̣̥̮̭͚̳̼͚͓͎̥́̔͆͆͑̀̽̉̋V̴̲̘̘̰̬̹̪̣̆̆͊̾̊̒̋͑͐́̕i̸̺̒̌̅̆͌̈́o̶̘̙̮͉̩̼̾̔͊́̋̄̒̕͜l̷̡̧͙͍̗͙̟̙̣̅̅͋̍͐̒̑̕͘͜a Viola."

"Huh?" is the intelligent sound that resounds from Viola's throat as she stares into the magenta eyes of the man currently standing over her, his face eclipsing the little light the room affords. His dark hair burns at the edges.

"Honestly... for you to collapse so willingly. You're truly pathetic."

"...yeah," she agrees, playing with her hands. "Who are you?"

"You've forgotten again?" the male lays his shoe on her bloody hand, brutally crushing it against the polished wooden floor. She cries in silence. "Listen closely with those incompetent ears. My name is Sakamaki Reiji. You are my servant, and you will do as I ask. Do you recall your position now?"

Viola silently nods, turning her eyes away from Reiji's.

2

Blue ceramic laid scattered on the floor between two pairs of feet, jagged edges glinting in the cool light of Reiji's office. It was not an important cup, yet it was part of his collection.

Though she knelt to pick up the pieces, Reiji was faster as he grabbed her by the wrist, almost taking her shoulder straight out of its socket. He looked at her with irritation while she looked at him in hopelessness.

Wordlessly, he dragged her into the basement and made a point of explaining in excruciating detail what every torture device was used for before asking her which one she would prefer.

She surprised him, despite looking so sick that he imagined she would vomit at any second.

"The branding iron," she said hollowly, pointing at a long piece of metal fitted with an older version of the Sakamaki crest, one that had been used on cattle to be offered to desperate men looking to sacrifice their daughters.

Reiji hesitated. She might die of shock---it crossed his mind, though he waved away the thought. It didn't matter, after all.

White-hot iron met the white skin of Viola's tender back, and the screams ripped through the manor. The blood on her back popped and cracked as she collapsed.

3

"Viola, you... You really can't see, can you?" Reiji asked, having noticed she was fumbling around for walls as she stumbled in search of his voice. She shook her head. "Your eyes should be fine."

He stands and walks closer to her, quickly finding that her eyes aren't following him as he moves. When had she lost her vision? He had noticed that she had been stumbling more often lately, but for it to be gone entirely?

She stepped towards him and patted his shoulder as her balance wavered, her hand clutching Reiji with feeble, bony fingers. It was only at that point that he remembered she had been denying food since the moment he offered it to her. She was truly weak. Emaciated. Had his servant become like this in his negligence?

"Come," he said, and she latched onto his sleeve as he brought her into the dining room. "It's time you ate. I can't have you starve to death simply because I forgot."

She let go of his sleeve, making Reiji turn to look at her. She said nothing.

"Come," Reiji repeated, much more harshly, and she eventually resumed holding his sleeve until he put her into a chair and cooked for her.

She sobbed between bites.

[projectaconitum]

I Whispered.

Oh あなたにも .

I want to tell you, and yet I can’t. 

If I tell you, then, surely, you’ll run away from me. So many secrets I must whisper to myself at the mirror, hoping for a kind of release from the sorrow I feel. I imagine, somehow that by staring into the soul of my eyes, I would be able to find someone to whom I can confess. 

Oh, but it’s you staring back at me, and my heart closes shut. My faint whispers reach no one except God (the Devil). He offers neither sympathy nor critique, and I choose to mistake it for comfort, even knowing how much worse off it makes me. 

I absorb myself in deceit, until it is only twisted fantasy which surrounds my red world.

Idle contradiction is music to my ears; careless mutilation is a balm upon my skin.

And I think to myself: a sanguine scarlet must be, must be, sweeter than honey. 

[projectaconitum]

Nobility in Sorrow

It begins with a BELIEF.

Some of the greatest artists, poets, authors and even acting personages have been known to suffer from mental illness of every variety. There were some in the past and others in the present who contend that sadness is a beautiful thing, one which bequeaths splendor and depth upon a given work.

I was (am) one of the people who would share this opinion.

I sit at my computer, my eyes flicking across the lines upon lines of text I had written over the past few months. I've already read it dozens and dozens of times, and yet I keep reading it. I keep trying to gauge how on earth people will react.

Of course, I reason to myself, not everyone will like it. I can't possibly write something that appeals to everyone. That would be a fool's errand. I just want to write something that means something.

I tab out to my several online profiles for writing. The ones I left behind. 500 followers here. 3 followers over there. 25 followers far away. 12,000 reads. 4 reblogs. Reader engagement: 55%. Demographics: 90% female, 12-17 and 18-25 age ranges. United States. Canada. Australia.

I look at my old comments.

"THIS IS SO GOOOOD!" "You inspire me!" "Hey, you should do more of this!"

I lean my head onto my hand, digging my fingers against my scalp as I click back on my work-in-progress. I hate it. I hate every single word. None of this is even remotely originally. I have nothing important to say.

Click.

My finger, pressed into the delete key. I watch as every word disappears into the white abyss of digital paper. Why do I bother writing at all?

The days when I suffered in isolation were the days when my writing was filled with life. The days when I fell apart with jealousy at the sight of a couple holding hands. The days when I diminished my own sadness on the pretext that I was not crying.

I close my laptop, leaning my head onto my desk. In the depths of darkness, I used to lose myself in my own fantasies. I used to need it. I used to become nervous and perturbed when I'd written nothing.

Now, it's hard to write at all without thinking "this is lazy" or "this is dull" or "there is no soul in this." Flip over the table and start again. Start again, and hate it. Hate every piece of work I've ever written. Erase my authorship. Erase my thoughts, because no one (I) don't want to think about them.

What kind of fucking writer are you? the thought circles around my head as I sink deeper into my chair. I find myself going backwards in time. Backwards. That's right. The people who keep me around now... to them, if I am an inconvenience, then...

I open my laptop again, my fingers hovering over my keys before the furious clickety-clack of my typing consumes my room. Only tragedies make their way onto my screen.

And only tragedies infest my dreams.