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yomogi-mogi-mochi · 2 years ago

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Lasting Spring

Pairings: Vil Schoenheit x (Orpheus Inspired) MC

Summary: Great expectations are placed on you, coming from a line of extraordinary poets, bards, and musicians. You fulfill these expectations with ease‒ the lightness of your voice illuminating any room with divine merriment through a swift dance of your fingers on your lyre. Your fame is equally matched with the curse swimming through your family’s blood‒ one which announces death and tragedy to your lovers, unless they are your true love‒ your soulmate. However there is no assurance that soulmates truly exist, only the madness that comes as an endless thirst for it. So you extinguish that thirst, settling for quick, messy flings‒ much to the dismay of your childhood friend, Vil Scoenheit. You lament your own tragedy through woeful verses, masked in the sweltering felicity of your music. Vil always trails that sorrow back to you, wishing to embrace you in his warmth to take it away, even for a moment. But the members of your family who had found love unobstructed by the gods were great lovers to heroes, kings, queens, and warriors‒ who was he, seen by most as a villain, to taint that possibility for you?

Notes: Orpheus inspired reader, with a friends to lovers dynamic with Vil, GN pronouns. Continuation of my myth-inspired series

CW: Mentions of death and suicide, references to depression

AO3 Link Here.

Masterlist

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The child of a legendary line of poets, bards, and musicians‒ you were always surrounded by lush sounds of harps, guitars, and voices which trilled of bittersweet love‒ ones which you echoed with your own youthful voice, plucking your golden lyre with what could only be described as divine sensibility. From age ten, you were rumored to have the ability to command flowers to a weeping sorrow, cap mountains with a fury of snow with a single verse. As such, it was given that your house was often host to lavish festivities, one which you enjoyed particularly because you liked seeing your mother up and out from your bed, shining in her freshly ironed dress and combed hair. It was rare to see her talking so brightly with the guests, but the way the room spun as adults pushed questions upon questions onto you made you scurry off from the ballroom, off to find somewhere to practice your melody.

Finding a window tipped towards the ocean, you sat on the ornate bench facing the high moon, plucking your lure and singing a ballad of two star crossed lovers, soulmates, the lyrics specified, and the events which bled into their untimely demise. Their love so endless, spun into the eternity of myth, deathless as the gods themselves. You wondered a bit if they had any relation to your family, bearing the same cursed blood as you to have their tragedy to be the only thing fossilized into eternity like that‒ your blood cursed with similar ill fate in love until they found their soulmate. Even with the sliver of possible paradise, the gods promised heartbreak and woe to be cried from your throat in form of a song. Despite the ease of which you could spill brilliant notes and verses from your heart, your throat was always raw from the cursed blood inside of you, as if it knew of the coming agony that lay before it.

"Do you really believe in that story?" A familiar face crept into the jewel-toned blue of the moonlight.

You greeted it brightly. "Vil!" Koinonos, companion‒ in anything, perhaps the only one you knew that fit that word.

"I thought I'd find you here." He sat next to you with a weary sigh. "And thank the gods I did. It's getting boring out there."

"I could imagine. Bla bla bla finance bla bla bla business. All they talk about these days. Even mother."

"Hm. My father also. Why can't they speak of more interesting, more beautiful things?" When he speaks, he never breaks the thread between his eyes and yours. Unlike the adults or their children who looked through you, tipping their head to the vastness of your family’s legends, Vil spoke clearly to you, the one that was here, now.

"If you want to hear something beautiful, lend me your ear for this lowly bard." You bowed dramatically with a hand in the air. Vil giggled. That was one of your favorite sounds, even competing with the rich colors of your golden lyre, gifted from the gods. When you returned it to him‒ Vil mirrors your sentiment in his head in a clandestine whisper, only known to you in glimpses in the glassy warmth of his eyes.

You spoke of soulmates and heartache once more. When you ended the song in a mixed tune, Vil lulls his head into his hands behind his neck, flashing the cool violet of his eyes at you.

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

"Hah." You hacked out a laughter from your chest‒ taught and stiff. "It would be a wonderful thing wouldn't it? If soulmates existed." Sure, those who found soulmates in your family married kings and queens, heroes and the finest warriors‒ but the rest? They slipped into madness from relentless heartbreak, twisting towards death as they repeated songs which only reflected their own agony. The gods were cruel this way‒ such ripe, sweet fruit bearing on a tree full of thorns swelling with poison. You had so much of your love to give to that sweet morsel‒ but it felt like such a distant thing, a fairy tale of sorts, that even at your young age you broke that fantasy for yourself before you tore yourself apart trying like you had witnessed your mother had. You decided before your sixth birthday, when you were gifted your golden lyre with the title euainētos, well praised, that you would be content picking at the flowers beneath that thorned tree, occupying yourself with smaller loves, smaller heartbreaks without so much as desiring that fruit ripening at the branches reaching the heavens.

"You don't think they do?" Vil almost pleaded. He could feel the desperation tightening of his throat.

You looked up at the portrait of your family above you, just you and your mother, absent of your late father you had known better of his fists rather than his face. Sometimes, you had doubted you were from your mother’s womb‒ bearing little resemblance to her her face‒ but you felt a seed taking root inside of you as you witnessed her heart break over and over again, ensuring that the cursed blood that was beginning to grow in your body was indeed one which beat under her thick skin as well. You plucked the strings on the lyre, weaving a melancholic tune.

Rare‒ Vil thought‒ you had always paired even your most woeful lyrics with the brightest notes‒ but anything that came from your fingers seemed to have a brilliant magnificence to it, divine, was the only word he could think of. The moonlight beads down the strings of your lyre like thin droplets dancing in the air, and it suspends you in a heavenly glow as you close your eyes, spinning a downwards tune. He flushes a bit at the thought.

"No. I don't think so." You answered simply, a narrow smile and eyes reached your face, turning to Vil.

"Oh."

A light laugh escaped your throat, head thrown back to lean against the window. "Don't be so glum Vil." The liveliness in your eyes dimmed, hands slowing to a feathery sound. "I was just speaking for myself. You're beautiful."

A hair had fallen onto his face, you swept it back with lithe fingers, resisting the temptation to trace the delicate features on his face. Tall, slender nose; rosey heart-shaped lips, lavender eyes speckled with sharp arrows of frosted blue. You tried to liken it to something in your head‒ twisting a poem in your mind‒ but no words you knew were big enough to describe his beauty. "I'm sure there's someone perfect out there for you who can recognize that." You curved your lips, deepening the smile in hopes of communicating your candor.

He turned his tinted face away from you, simply answering: "Play louder."

You did, a blithe color erupting from light beaming onto the strings of your lyre as they danced between your fingers‒ your throat the color of fresh blood as you trilled a song of woeful lovers. Vil didn't dare move his eyelids further up, afraid that if his lashes lifted, revealing your entire face to his gaze‒ his lips would betray him into a shameful quiver. Once he had, when he found a deep sorrow in your eyes, as infinite as the prickling stars in the sky, even with your hands which whirled with such an elated melody. He almost heaved with tears that time‒ he was only ten, after all. But you, the same age as him, seemed so much more wiser to tragedy, bearing it with a silky smile.

He hoped what you said about him was true‒ that he would find a soulmate‒ but when your statement before sounded just as certain. Anything that came from your mouth did to him‒ it rang as clear as glorious mountains forged by the gods, and as robust as rolling waves of the holy seas. Like your ancestors, he felt that you had the power to move nature‒ crumble mountains and make the sun know heartbreak. If you said soulmates didn't exist, he would simply believe that as fact. Still‒ a tightness swirled inside him, one with a feverish heat that wriggled inside his chest.

A few months later, a letter arrived at his home, informing him and his father of your mother's death. At the bottom of the letter rested a wobbly signature, your name, written in red ink. You were only ten‒ what ten year olds practiced their signature enough for it to be as elegant and poised as an adult's? He walked to your house, a bundle of lavender from the garden as an offering. You took it with cold hands when you opened the door to the empty house, letting in Vil with that soft smile.

"I have to…I have to sing at her funeral. And speak too." You stared distantly at the soundless waves, facing away from your family portrait. "What…what should I say?"

"You shouldn't have to say anything if you don't want to." He camped next to your body's warmth, wanting desperately to let it scorch him by embracing you. But he thought it would not be a comfort if he had.

"It's in her will." The adults already decided. "What do I even say that's not already known?" A bitter laugh pushes past your lips. "Sorry for all the trouble of gathering here‒ you all already knew this was going to happen? Yeah guys the prophecy is true‒ you can stop gossiping about it? You think they'll let me off the hook if I just don't stop crying?" You paused your chattering laughter. "I could if I wanted to, you know."

"You should cry whenever you want for as much as you want. We’re young, we should be afforded that right." He felt the stillness blistering in the air. After a moment, you answered with a weariness he wasn't used to seeing in your face. Still, it flowered gracefully in your eyes, soft as the cerulean moonglow and the velvety waves which were pulled by it.

"Will you help me write the speech?"

"Me?"

"Who else? I have no other friends. No one."

Vil's eyes flashed through faces which laughed and danced with you. "How about the others from your party?"

"They're not my friends." You leaned against him, rocking your head in the curve of his shoulder. "Not like you are." Koinonos, companion‒ in anything.

His breath stuttered for a moment, before he muffled it with a deep breath that raised his chest.

"Sorry‒ you don't‒"

"No." He tried again, softer. "No. I'll do it. Of course I will."

"Okay." If he were to guess that quiet voice came from your powerful throat‒ he would have guessed wrong by the crackling whisper of your reply. He also couldn't have guessed you were crying from the stillness of your form, but he knew the trick. The heat that rose to your face and the subtle shudder of your inhale was one he knew well. He said nothing, taking your sadness in without any need for words.

The funeral was planned by you, and a few of your mother's friends since you were not yet at the age where you could sign legal documents. They pat your still back in sympathy, especially when they find through the surrounding gossip that you were the one to find her feet dangling above a tilted pile of scores and books of hymns.

"I'm sorry."

"She deserved better."

"I'm sorry."

"She will never be forgotten."

"I'm sorry."

Who are you all sorry for? You thought, standing above her body blanketed in firewood. You wanted to crawl into her arms, but you felt that she would not let go if you had‒ you knew she was tiring of losing‒ dragging down blood of her own blood. The tightness of her decaying skin, the flowers which were delicately placed to hide her bruised, broken neck slammed your chest down to your small feet, which you heaved back up with steady breaths and rapid blinking, and the privacy of your face afforded when you bent down to place a coin on her cold tongue, your hair veiling the affliction in your eyes.

You played her a song on a harp as long and tall as your grief. At ten, you were seasoned with that agony through blood and bone‒ no tears rose to your flesh during the ritual‒ the song, the speech, the mourning. Most left after you had kindled the fire to her flaring tomb, leaving after squeezing you with empty hands and words. You sat facing away from the blazing fire, weaving your hands in the grass poking out from the seaside cliff. Vil sat himself beside you hours ago, watching the waves crash against the rocks, withering it.

"Do you truly think love exists?"

He sat, thinking what words would comfort you. "I do. When you sing of it in your songs, I believe it." He knew his truth would be as much as he could give.

"When I die, Vil." You looked straight at the swelling waves. "Will you be the one to sing at my funeral? Will you speak for me? Ignite my body?"

Funerary songs were reserved for the direct relatives of the deceased‒ mothers, daughters, sons, lovers, husbands, and wives. You had no father, no siblings, no spouse or children‒ and now, no mother. The thought of you dying before you could even make such connections choked him. "I'm not much of a singer." He says, throat wobbling.

"Your singing is divine, Vil." Your smile draws shakily today. "Sing a happy song for me. Let people dance, sing, laugh. Bring people together." He averted his gaze away from the tears that silently trekked down your face, he knew better than to watch you break. "This is way too depressing. It's better to think of happiness and beauty during times like this, isn't it?"

He wanted so badly to look at you when he answered, "Yes. It really is."

"Don't die before me, Vil. I want to hear your beautiful song." You embraced him to hide your face.

"I won't." He knew at the moment, why Orpheus had looked behind to gaze at his Eurydice's face when he couldn't hear her footsteps. He could barely hear your heartbeat, your crying, against the roaring waves hammering against the cliffside. But he felt stronger than your divine ancestors that day, cradling your face behind his own without turning, still as the rocks sinking and appearing from the cold waters.

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Despite your busy schedules, you stay in touch through piles of letters, small gifts with even smaller notes scribbled: “This made me think of you”, and sly backstage passes to each other's performances. He knows of the messy, brash flings you have with people, and the ease it brings you‒ after all, where else would you put all the love you have? To a curse that promised something unfathomable to you that would lead towards a path of self annihilation? He knew better than to question your actions in that, ready to silently sit beside you during days where it all weighed upon you. Moments you would lay stagnant in your bed reminded you of the slivers of memories you had of your mother‒ furthering the hope that Vil had not forgotten the promise he made on that burning cliffside.That cursed blood receded, and returned to you like the ceaseless oceans‒ a divine revenge coming closer and closer to crashing upon you as you felt the love inside you threatening to burst open at your seams. However, you waded that thick, flushing blood like water‒ carelessly throwing yourself against bodies that desired to devour such a passionate and powerful beast such as your legacy. The sexual pleasure helped a bit with the “muchness” of it all‒ despite the slight dismay of Vil, who saw the growing amount of alcohol and people you consumed during the nights of festivities at Night Raven College you often hosted. However, that would never stop him from checking on you the next day, bringing you cups of water along with a much needed lecture on alcohol consumption. It’s not like you didn’t stop being his friend after all‒ calming and assuring him during moments of his own doubts and rage whenever he was informed he was selected for yet another villain role. Those were rare times where you returned to the tranquility and delicacy of your childhoods‒ belting funny and melancholic tunes of gallant lovers and beautiful princes, wrapped in the blankets of Vil’s private quarters. There was a valor, a resistance in this happiness, the laughter from Vil’s lips making the moments even sweeter. It almost made you want to reach for that tantalizing fruit, but the poison rooted in your blood made you stop before you could even try.

But moments like that, were again, rare. Most of your time was filled with smuggling alcohol into the Pomefiore dorm, hosting elaborate parties and such that gained you the reputation as “party animal”, a raging appetite befitting one too. Some even joked that you bore a similarity to Dionysus, jolly god of wine‒ ironic, considering your ancient records say your ill fate was because your ancestor angered him, causing the curse to fall upon your family. Nonetheless, the title was one you took with pride, becoming host to hours filled with music, food, and drunken splendor.

"Let's begin the festivities!" You fluttered your hands prettily into the bustling air, the gold twisting around your wrists letting out a merry jingle as you let your fingers dance drunkenly towards a bass guitar.

Vil quirked a brow. "You know how to play? I didn't know."

"No." You tested the strings with lithe fingers, humming. "But I'll learn." A smirk fell onto your lips, immediately echoing onto Vil's own. Your plucking already sounded like the most masterful composition to him.

He kept that same questioning curve to his brows while letting out a huff of laugher. So cocky as always he thought‒ but he knew once you whirled around the floor, throwing your head back with an airy laugh to bask in the light of the gods‒ the instrument would be singing a vivid tune. When that dazzling sound came from you‒ you flashed a crescent smile at Vil‒ leaping into the crowd to create high spirits, doing so with a blinding radiance. The warmth of your songs beamed on Vil's face despite you twirling far away, leaving him to his own devices. He knew you were too bright, too limber to be held only by him‒ and it would burn when he tried. Though he would spring to that blistering feeling like flowers to the sun‒ he knew the gods made you so it was almost unbearable to keep all of your splendor to just himself. He watched with a smile from a distance, admiring how you lifted the crowd into a howling merriness that shook heated bodies against each other. He too joined that swelling warmth in the room, smashing his body against it, the taste of alcohol tipped onto his mouth as he poured the drink down his throat in one go. It made his head buzz blindly, letting him loosen his body to whirling movements.

When you cried his name, hollering a cheerful whoop at the quickness of which he drained the drink, he wondered if it was your music or the alcohol that was flushing his cheeks, bringing hot blood floundering to his prickling skin. He shifted his eyes to you once more, but you were no longer looking at him, flashing between bustling bodies, and he ignored the tugging feeling when he thought he saw you dancing next to a certain Kingscholar, throwing your head back into his chest, spilling your hair and drink onto his skin. Vil almost drinks himself to a stupor thinking about it, but reminds himself of the bloating he would have to deal with tomorrow morning if he did. So he turns from you, closing his eyes to the rhapsody of your music.

The night feels endless, and tomorrow feels far. But the tiredness of Vil’s muscles comes sharply, waking him from that distance. The weariness of his body sinks deep into his face as he finishes his skincare for the morning, and he decides a smoothie would give him the burst of energy he needed for the rest of the day. Padding over to the kitchen, he sees a familiar figure slumped over on the couch, a tangled mess in a flurry of blankets and clothes.

“(Name).”

You give a jumbled response, pressing your head deeper into the crevice of the couch.

“You’re going to regret it if you sleep here, you know. I don’t want to hear you complain about it later.”

Another groan, before you sat up, your head lolling to the back of the couch when you did. The openness of your crinkled shirt revealed violet bite marks and bruises blooming on your skin, before they were tucked under your head once more, a smirk reaching your lips when you caught Vil staring.

“What? Like what you see?” Vil hated when you teased like this‒ because he so badly wanted to answer‒ yes, yes, of course I do you idiot, I have for years. But he deflects your question per usual, turning his back to you to make his morning slurry of fruit and vegetables.

“Ugh. Cover yourself, you drunken bard. Actually‒ please change. You absolutely reek of alcohol.”

“Do I? Hardly noticed.”

“Tends to happen when you’re around it so often.”

“Oi! I’m not the only one who was drinking last night. I saw you down that entire cup of sangria last night.”

“Yes but I don’t come back with bruises on my neck do I?”

You see Vil pour out two drinks‒ you’ve never seen him not do this in your presence. Still, you thank him when he hands you the cup.

“Hey nothing wrong with a little roughness.” You spread a sly smile on your lips, lifting your eyebrows in a suggestive manner. ”Besides‒ easier to just let ‘em do whatever, you know?”

Vil squints his eyes in concern, before he takes a sip of his smoothie to suppress the energy bustling out of him, sparked out of the anger he feels in your statement. Still, he’s careful with his words before leaving the room. “Just…be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

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You tried to sleep that day to prepare for the school week that followed, but you were woken several times in a cold sweat, haunted by images of your mother’s dangling feet in the air. You breathe heavily, heart weighed by the burden of your blood. Would you end the same? Seeing glimpses of your mother in your own moments of despondency had brought this question closer and closer as time passed, as the love inside of you was begging to be displaced anywhere but inside your thin, rupturing skin. Perhaps death would be an easier home than finding a residence for that love somewhere.

The gods were cruel even in times like this‒ bidding: sing, sing, turning your blood hot and writhing in your tired body. You moved your heavy limbs from the crushing weight rippling from your chest, clamoring in your hands the golden lyre. Euainētos‒ well praised. By whom but by the gods who dangled the ripening fruit far from your reach, or by the people who rush to your givings, but never return with any of your adoration? Sure your legacy may be well-praised, but what about you? You try not to think about it, or yourself‒ spinning instead a lament of two lovers, one set off to find their beloved in the land of the dead. Perhaps this score could hold your pain, just for a moment.

The softness of your voice comes as a willowy whisper, the blistering rawness of your throat tipped upwards towards the heavens to cool in the pin-pricked starlights and forlorn incandescence of the moon. The flowers near your window drooped at anguish laced in your low notes, you felt a deathly weight unravel from your lips, unfurling into the crisp night air, turning it to a frosty winter, negating all of the sun's warmth mirrored on the high moon. Even on this temperate autumn night, your music brings frost to the delicate petals of the flowers surrounding your window, seizing the fragrant water that slept in the flora in your chilled sorrow.

Vil hears this bellowing ballad from his window, and feels it in the growing coldness of the air. To him, your music always smelled of late autumn winding to winter‒ it's crisp, unforgiving wind warmed with the spices and colors of the mountains; the scent of decomposing leaves and thrashing dirt; its perfume of smoked wood turning to ashes. It also brought him the salt behind his eyes, the copper taste upon his lips when such a levitious melody trailed a fragrance of setting decay. It was almost masked with the aroma you wore‒ a summery scent‒ fresh, sun bathed dew on candied lavender‒ he could follow its deep scent to the sweet smile that always flowered on your face. But it never did mask the scent of endings, the smell of dwindling, evanescent light. He inhaled all of it knowing he could not escape it‒ the salt, the decaying earth, the sweet florals‒ knowing he could trail that scent blindly in the shackles of hell. But this time, that maytime veil barely masked the frosted musk of your tender, singing flesh‒ murmuring a low tune of lovers fated in destruction. It worried him.

"You awake?" He texts you.

The voice seeping through the cracks of his window stops for a moment, before a reply comes. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"We literally live right next to each other."

"Oh."

.....

"Yeah. Forgot about that. Sorry if I woke you up from your beauty sleep~ Don't kill me please?? I'm too cute to be murdered"

Vil throws the satin covers from his body, shuffling his slippers on and heading to your door. He barely knocks once before you're opening it, blanket tangled over your body. Your scent washes over him like the mild sun, but is quickly chilled by a wintery aroma that freezes his breath tightly in his lungs. The bags that weighed under your eyes accentuated the hollowness in them, if not then by the your smile that didn't bother to reach past your lips.

"Come on. We're doing face masks as long as you're interrupting my beauty sleep. Those eye bags are going to take care of themselves."

"A way with words, this one." You watch Vil march over to your vanity, pulling out a bottle that was part of a gift he had given you during your many exchanges. "And I thought I was the only bard." You squint your eyes a bit to make the curve on your lips more believable but Vil returns the look with a slather of a cold substance onto your skin.

"Ack! Your hands are freezing you heartless bi‒!" He smacks another glob on your cheek.

"I wonder whose fault that is, hm?"

You look at him perplexed, before he pointed his gaze towards the roses that had begun to wilt at your window.

"Oh did I…?" They weren't like that before. Those blooming buds had been alive just now‒ you swore it. But now, turned gray and cold, they began to behead from their stems onto your floor. "I did it again, didn't I."

"Can you undo it?" Vil asks softly, now spreading the substance onto his own skin.

"I mean I could. Theoretically, yes. But right now I just‒" A sudden pain lurched inside your chest, clutching your throat in a quiver. You quelled it with a thick breath in, swallowing it down the constriction of your throat. "- I‒I just can't‒ I‒"

His gaze softens, and he places a clean hand on top of your own, warming it from the cold metal instrument that sat below your palm. "It's fine. You don't have to. It's okay."

"Okay." Your voice comes small and frail like a newborn bird. It swoops to Vil’s heart, soaring it‒ but he brings it down to earthly terrain, macerating the hunger of his hands, begging to take all of your pain away‒ to squeeze it out with his love. But what right did he have, tainting your legacy, your potential like that? You were meant to intertwine with legends and the blood of royalty, heroes, mighty warriors‒ he felt that you would be deathless in your art as the gods, divine power swelling in your carnal body reaching the eternity you deserved. Then maybe he could break the promise he made by the cliffside, never having to face your own flaming pyre.

But he is reminded of your humanity when you shake silently like a wind whipped oak‒ that trick of yours he knew never to voice‒ for a moment, decorticating the towering facade hardened by the curse, the legacies, the thickness of your blood, withering away until it revealed your small form. He felt small too, returning to similar moments like this in childhood where you cried a whisper louder. But like Eurydice's final footsteps, your woeful imprint on this earth were beginning to sound more and more distant, and it grew the fear in Vil that you would disappear somewhere far off from him. Still, the stubbornness of his doubts and self image tethered to his insides like a quick, sinking poison, suspending him in a moment of paradise and hell. He imagined this was the reality you lived as well.

In a moment of weakness, he determined, he indulges in his grasping notions, hugging a single hand to your bare shoulder, feeling the smoothness of your skin as he rubs it. You sink into this warmth, moving your head to his lap and unwinding into his heat. His satin robes smelled of lavender and rich vanilla, sweet as his plush palms lulling you to sleep.

You hope he stays the night, caging you in this warmth until you wake again, but he never does.

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It's the weekend again, which means yet another celebration hosted at the Pomefiore halls. You begin the preparations at late noon, having slept off the exhaustion of the week's low mood until the last possible minute. It wasn't much effort, it's not like people your age were particularly picky as long as hard liquor and junky snacks were involved. You took a quick swig of the nearly empty bottle, enjoying the dizzy fever it brought to your head.

"Drinking already? Honestly (Name)..." Vil sighs as passes by the hall, returning from his workout.

Feeling color rise to your cheeks as your eyes glaze over his exposed body, you decide it was a perfect opportunity to chalk up to your growing alcohol intake. "Uhh yup. You know me." You smile tightly, as he enters the ballroom, emptying the water bottle in his hand in huge gulps, ripping the mound on his throat in a rhythmic wave. The way his hair curls messily at his neck, sweat beading down his chest makes your head spin some metaphor likening his stature to mighty marble masses‒ but the sound of your heart thundering away at your ears makes you deaf to your own song.

"What? Like what you see?" He mirrors your exact words from the other day, a mischievous glint in his eye. As much as you detested the teasing, you loved the look of his face. Not Vil Schoenheit, the actor; or Vil Schoenheit, loved by all‒ just, plainly, Vil. Your Vil‒ Koinonos, companion‒ in anything, your heart blared. But you killed that voice as soon as it rose, busying your head with the ecstacy of boozy daze with another swig of another bottle. This would be your companion for the night.

"Suck my‒" You began, but was met with a solid chest right as you swiveled on your feet to exit the room, the intoxication reaching your movements when you knocked back onto the floor on your behind.

"Elegant." Vil responds with a raised brow.

"Sorry!"

You recognized the face but not the name, prompting you to scramble through your memories for one. "Hey Uuh…" Blank. Nope. Nothing. "Sorry‒ what was your name again?"

"Oh! Yuri, remember? We uh‒ you don't remember last week?"

It clicked in your brain. Shit, why was he here? Usually your flings knew to avoid pursuing or meeting you again because of the whole curse situation. But situations like this happened now and again, you were just hoping it was resultant from a lack of knowledge of your bloodline than some extravagant declaration of "love". You answer, with a poised smile on your lips. "Yeah, I do, sorry my memory gets foggy sometimes. Can I help you with something?"

"I…" His eyes sway from yours to Vil's. "I was just‒ here!"

To only your slight surprise, an envelope is shoved in your face. His hands shake a bit from his nerves, ears tinted dark while his face hides in the deep bow he positions his body in to hand you the paper. Inhaling a mulled breath, you wrap your hands softly around his wrist, tugging it to raise his face. He doesn't meet your eyes‒ you don't blame him.

"Hey." You begin, setting the bottle of alcohol on the table. "Let's talk in the hall, okay?"

He nods, retracting his hand from your back to his chest. Vil shoots a concerned look at your now completely sobered expression, but you just smile and wave, shutting the door quietly behind you.

"I appreciate it. I really do. But you know about my bloodline‒"

"I do! I'm ready to make that commitment! I think‒ know I know this is love! Don't you feel it too? Isn't that why‒"

"Do you honestly believe true love exists? We're strangers. We forever will be." You notice his eyes that look distantly through yours.

"When you sing of it, I do."

You blink. Somehow, those same words from Vil sounded less believable when this man‒ declaring his unflinching commitment‒ utters them. There’s a certainty that is embedded inside you that you’re not used to, that says you’d believe Vil’s words hell and back over any other person in this world‒ even over any other arduous confessions of love no matter how much you wanted to seize an opportunity, a chance, any glimpse of serendipity in love. But you placate that hunger, bury it deep in your darkened stomach, killing it kindly with the fragrant flowers that seat beneath that tangling tree of ripening fruit. There’s a whiff of lavender which trickles from above, but you pull yourself from it to focus on the moment.

"It doesn't exist. Neither for you or I, or anyone. Do you want to know what happened to my ancestors and their lovers?"

He shakes his head. "I don't care about any of that, I‒" You take a hand to his pulse, measuring it’s speed with the stilled rhythm of your own.

"Some die horrifically, ripped apart by furies. Some go mad and take their own lives because they can't stand the thought of potentially suffering a death like that. Others have been killed, poisoned, struck and tortured by the gods. You’ll become their little plaything, like me." Relief floods you as his pulse begins to quicken, stuttering at your words. But, these words come as a generosity. "Are you ready for something like that? A fate worse than death? For something as flimsy as 'true love'?" His eyebrows furrow, he squeezes the envelope between his clammy fingers.

You decide to make this easier for him, taking the words from his heart and whirling them on your tongue. You've heard it plenty before from your days of romantic pursuit, despite the sacred promises to yourself when you were younger. But you're glad it gives you the script for times like this. The words roll off like practiced notes on your lyre.

"You're fun, you're beautiful, I like you and all…" A smile crept on your lips, like an infinite curse, widespread and flowering on your face. 'I know, I know' it says, the muchness of it all, I know. What else could you do but smile in the face of such heavenly concocted absurdity? "But we both know how this ends, right? Put your love somewhere else. Somewhere precious, yeah?”

He nods silently, and you afford him the dignity to leave as such. Vil’s eyes flicker to your expression, then back to his phone when you slip back into the ballroom, which fills with silence. You take another swig of the bottle to beat the growing heaviness pounding a crater inside your chest.

“Carter called, says he’s bringing his friends over soon. With the amount of people that were on the call you’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Correction‒ they will have a lot of work to do. They’re going to help me.” You drop your back onto the couch, sinking into it and Vil’s shoulder. He flashes you an annoyed look, but he doesn’t budge.

“In that case I’m going to get changed. Don’t want to have a drunken bard ordering me around.”

“Okay, I’ll let you know when my servants finish up with preparations~” You reach to your lyre and strum the strings carelessly. You imagine the giggle that would emit from Vil’s throat, but you’re met with a stiff laugh, his usual vibrancy between you two smothered by the concern of his eyes. You play a merry tune to soothe this expression, relieved when his posture seems to relax a bit. This silent language is thrown between you at all times, and it forges a weltering tension in your chest, something you try to pacify with the bright song erupting from your lyre. But the music seems to dull when Vil leaves, relaxing your smile into an empty gaze to the skies in his absence.

——————————————————

Preparations are done just in time (much to the resistance of Carter and his friends) before people begin flooding into the dorm, reaching immediately for the alcohol that loosens their nerves. You're quite drunk by then, babbling on about some ancient heroic hymns and the process of which ambrosia is dedicated to the gods, dancing your fingers across a lute with a whirling fervor. You swing your body with a feverish madness, throwing it against the vivacious bodies bouncing across the room, sinking your mouth into the bitter lips of a bottle once more‒ hoping to jostle and boil the ache in your body with some lunatic passion. But soon, that cavity in your chest grows too heavy for you to move your body with such vigor‒ and you excuse yourself out of the room onto the balcony, despite the pleas for another song. Even with their roaring solicitation, begging for another intoxicating melody, promising a dimness in the room if you leave it‒ the space remains hot and lively as you turn from it, sobering you with the chilled autumn evening, and the darkened blueness of the world.

You find the golden lyre in your hands, your florid fingers grazing the engraved wreath composed of the many titles your ancestors bore. Orphéfs, Aoidan Patēr, Tælætárkhis, Kælefstís, Khrysolýris ,Prophítis, Khrysáoros, Onomaklyton, Chrysolyrēs, Paian, and finally, Euainētos. It spans the entire arch of the metal, beginning from the coiled head of the instrument, ending with your title at the opposite tip, filling the space with each letter‒ E U A I N Ē T O S‒ to leave no capacity for another. Perhaps it was all fated in the beginning, to slowly chip away at your bloodline‒ until someone like you remained, alone, and ended your legacy in that way as divine punishment. Even on these nights you sung wonderful merriness into, you retreated like this‒ helpless to the waves of pity and the axis of despair that spun you dizzy‒ whipping and cracking against your crumbling heart as you were reminded of the burden of the gift, the kindness, the everything you had to keep giving while killing any sort of expectation for anything. But at times that hunger for that tantalizing fruit swelled, the sweetness of looking into the face of love gathering the pieces of your heart and molding it together in its temporary warmth. Surely, it is not bravery, but perhaps blindness, stupidity‒ that reeled you back like this every time, whispering against bruised flesh‒ the hurt would be worth it this time. You really never knew if it was, having a seasoned sense to extinguish that voice when you remembered the poison that would lay in your path because of it.

During times like this, you were careful not to weave your own poetry‒ afraid that if you had unleashed all of this emptiness at once, the world would decay and pulverize into stardust, quieted from all of its life and launched every which way into the eternal cosmos‒ the gods, tipping their ears to your destruction, and punishing you with another effortless thrust that hurdled you off the cliff of your mountain of love into the endless pits of your grief. So you recited a hymn of two star-crossed lovers, encrusting the roses that weaved onto the balcony with a white frost.

“Hey.” The gentleness of that voice for a moment brought a stuttering warmth to your song‒ breathing a lifted radiance that bloomed into the flowers. But you quelled the muchness, the everything even as it burns in the tightness of your throat, managing to return a small, “Hey” back to Vil.

“Tired already?”

You scoff with a slight smile on your lips. “You wish.The night is still young.” You make room for Vil on the bench, dangling off nearly half your body when you do. He sits with a delicate grace, his sweet perfume reaching your nose with a twinge of alcohol melded in.

“The air feels nice. Reminds me of back home.”

Home. You try to imagine it, and you're just met with dusty, barren rooms‒ and Vil, Vil, Vil. He is everywhere in your memories and tethered to home, filling that empty house with his laughter, his warmth. Like your memories, you allow yourself to sink into him, filling your chest with his sensation. The bench is not meant for two people, but you manage.

“Tell me, which one of your stories were you babbling on about?”

“Oh nothing, really. Just some old tale, not any of mine. I’m tired of having to thread something from myself.”

“All these old tales‒ they all end the same don’t they.” He recalls his career, strife with the same, fairytale endings over, and over, and over again. The villain, no matter how bright, how cunning, how beautiful‒ will fall, slain at the feet of the hero. He understood your sophistication to this tragedy at a young age, bearing this destruction over and over. Still, your back remained ever brighter than anyone he knew despite being whipped against this ceaseless death. “Why don’t you sing of something more bright, beautiful, happy in your life?”

You chuckle. “What, like you?” The air cools the slight flush of your skin. Raising your hand to the skies like a muse, you lift your body to the balcony railing, lunging towards the heavens. “Oh gods lend thy ears to my hymn dedicated to very best companion‒ Vil Schoenheit‒ his beauty surpassing all those on this land even you dreadful creatures‒ kindness penetrating all of sentient beings; hair silky smooth as Galatea's skin‒ whoa!”

Vil catches you by the waist before you tip over the edge of the rail, almost melting in your mild aroma if it wasn’t for your loss of balance. He swings you down to the balcony floor.

“You.. half witted, drunken bard. I’ll kill you if I start wrinkling at this age because of your antics.”

You lean back onto the balcony, afraid of the soaring feeling his touch engraved in you. Your breath stinks of liquor as you let out a laugh, throwing your head back off the rail. “The god won’t hear anyway. The story I must tell is already composed in the stars by their hands.” The corner of your lips weighs into a softer, mathematical smile‒ one which ensured it warranted no pity, no kindness, no woe. “I have no true say in what I sing. It doesn’t matter. None of it does.”

You avoid Vil’s face, but your eyes heave over to them in a covetous gaze. There is no pity, no kindness, no woe‒ but understanding‒ something which makes you want to fall deep into the earth, all the way to the chamber of Hades, to bury yourself deep into the cold ground to shackle down any desire that may arise for that dangling fruit. But you yield to the celestial warmth in them, one which reflects the heat of your fluttering heartbeat in the tender lavender of his eyes. A warmth that did not burn, or was fed by taking your own, one which glowed with sublime beauty and touched like warm flesh. It takes an agonizing effort from you to sink and sabotage your heart from enjoying that tender touch, instead reaching your hands to the wintery, still metal of your lyre.

“...I understand that feeling. It's the same when you get type-casted over and over again." He stares at your hands plucking a wistful tune. "It's like you have no story to tell but the ones people keep deciding for you."

Your hands move ceaselessly to twist a sorrowful song, so shamelessly in front of Vil. You plucked with mulled, languid fingers, aching to play something much faster, much lighter than the weight licking against the strings of your heart. But a growing force born of your own flesh, would not let you, seizing control of your body and its movements, intoxicating it with a rupture, a breaking, a splitering that followed the lines of old scars.

“You’re so beautiful, Vil. And so diligent, resilient too. You could command the seas and the stars if you pleased.” You giggled to squint your eyes, hoping it would shade the absolute adoration within them. “You’ll be whatever you want to be. That’s the Vil I know. I don’t care if you’re a hero, or a villain. You’re…” everything. All of it. “...you’re always that beautiful Vil to me.”

He believes every word from you, he always does. Anger sparks in him. "What about you, then?" Those words came fast, escaping his throat without a hesitance prickling through it.

"Hm? What about me?"

"You're the same‒ you could shake the earth with your songs, and you do." A heated temper welled inside him, buzzing, swollen like a burn. How dare you speak like this? How dare you speak so lowly, so carelessly to the one he loved? "What about you? What will you become?"

"It is already decided‒"

"By who exactly?" He demanded, louder.

"By the gods of course. The ones which my family dishonored‒ "

“I am asking about you‒ what do you want? What will you do with all your love?” What about us? He wished things were a certain way so he could have tasted the sweetness of those words. But he bit his tongue.

A hollow laugh thrusts past your lips. "But why should I try? Only few have returned from the trials of love with someone to share that victory with. Many take their lives‒ you know‒ my mother did." You rested your hand on top of your instrument. "It all ends the same. They all leave.”

"But they're not you."

"The same blood flows within me." He was being so persistent tonight. You wished he’d give up, but it would also break you if he abandoned you at this moment.

He can’t help the sarcasm lacing into his voice, rising from the rage swelling inside him. "I wasn’t aware you passed down the same heart too, is it a family heirloom?”

The silence hurt your ears like a bitter, frosted wind, matching the feeling in your chest that ached so freshly at those thrashing words.

“They don’t.” You answered finally. “But this heart is neither theirs nor mine. It is for the gods to ravage. And I don’t know where to put it. All this love.” You turn towards the sky, sparing him the sight of your tears.

“Okay, fine.” Vil sucked a breath in, he was feeling brave now‒ perhaps it was blindness, stupidity. “Then let me have it.”

"...what?" He sees the tension grow in your shoulders, the heave of your white breath against the inky, cold air.

"Give it to me." He said with more greed, hunger rumbling, plump in his veins.

"No." You gripped the gilded gold handle of your lyre. "No. I cannot do that to you. I won't. You're‒ you're‒" Everything. Love. My memories. My love. My everything. The words came tumbling from your mouth. "You're too precious, Vil. What would the world do without you?" No. You felt those weren't quite the right words. "What would I do without you?"

Vil swallows the space between you two with one step.“You won’t have to live without me. I’ll be here. With you.”

“You don’t know that! Don’t‒ don’t say things like that.” You shake, those words sharpened at him, lashing against his sweetness. “I can’t lose you. You’re different, you’re unlike anyone I’ve met. Even the gods cannot tear you away from me. I…” I love you. “...I could not bear it if you sunk below this mortal sea‒ if I robbed you of your life. Don’t do this. Stop.”

He embraces your form. You want to lurch away from his tender arms, but you can’t. His arms station themselves like ancient stone around your body. “The gods have always been merciful to you when they brought us together. But you have not been the same to yourself.”

You thumbed your title on your lyre numbly, pleading. “Stop. Don’t do this. Don’t say things like that.” Don’t, don’t, don’t.

“Don’t take me for a fool, tell me why, then. Did all of these years mean nothing to you?“

“Because it will fade. Love is ephemeral, it dies, it withers. Do you truly believe it is eternal? Like some stupid fairytale?”

He remembers your words towards him. You could command the seas and the stars if you pleased…You’ll be whatever you want to be. “When you sing of it in your songs, I believe it. You make eternity out of love. You’re more of an idiot than I thought if you won’t do the same for your own.”

You don’t answer him, leaning the back of your head against his flaying heartbeat, trembling.

“It seems I can’t get through to you in these flowery words, you stupid bard.” He turns you to face him, a smile reaches his lips despite him seeing, for the first time, those greedy, fat tears that fall from your face. “I love you, dumbass. I will plow my way out of heaven and hell for you to hear this.”

“I…” You want to run, hide, thrash against his grip with the decaying vehemence of your song. Instead, you force out thick, hitching breaths with a burning in your lungs. “Is this‒ are you‒”

“I’m certain. I’ve had about an excruciating decade to be certain, (Name).”

In your lifetime as a balladeer, you’ve trained your throat to trill the highest notes, sung your muscles raw to commit epics to memory, thickened the flesh of your lungs to cry bellowing poetry for colossal crowds. The world knew a thousand words from you. But the sun had never touched the words spilling from your mouth, pouring out corroded and rusted with the heat of your heart. It comes as a babbling rustle, rough as a child’s cry. Your arms move on their one, tangling into his neck and burrowing your face into the curve of his shoulder. It's warm, so warm. “I love you too. I love you, I love you.” You feel suspended in the heavenly, prickling starlights in his embrace.

"Tell me this isn't a dream‒ some cruel dream spun by the gods. Please?" The metal of your lyre sings as it hits the ground. You would not let the gods interrupt you this time, holding his face to look for any semblance of betrayal, cruelty‒ anything that would tear down this moment like the gods had promised. But it never came. This was your Vil.

"Can I show you instead?" He peeled your lip forward, exposing the flushed color to his eyes. Was this the color of your blood? Your throat? Perhaps he could taste it if he tried hard enough.

Your breath was already mixing with his when you begged. "Please‒"

His lips molded against yours‒ you tasted the faintest twinge of candied apples sticking against his plush flesh. He pulled you closer, hoping to color his insides with your smell, your taste‒ more, anything that would bring you closer to him. When you separated to breathe, you greedily gulped the air scented with his sweet fragrance, before diving back to his lips. Again‒ one more time‒ just to make sure this was all real. The bruising of your lips and feverish fluttering of your breaths made you believe, indeed, that this was reality. You grinned‒ your cheeks throbbing.

“There is so much you have to make up for.” He says, smiling against your grazing fingers against his lips, committing every curve and grove to your memory. You would fill yourself with him like this. “Or‒ we have a lot to make up for.”

You enjoyed the way his eyes flushed with a sea of violet as they squinted, crushed from his brimming cheeks. “I’m sorry. I will. As much as time will let me, I’ll make it up to you again, and again.”

“Show me.”

You dip your mouth onto his once more, tasting the fountain of sweetness spilling from his throat. A smile, one for yourself and no one else, flowers on your face. "I'll have to shape us into a song. I'll make sure they'll paint of us, sculpt us, sing of us‒ they'll remember us. Two lovers, you and me, a constellation of love." The lightness of your laughter almost pulled him up to the heavens. Finally.

"You have such a talent of making everything sound so stupidly splendid."

"Because you make it so.”

You strum your lyre, lacing your adoration into the notes, each finger weighted by the love in your heart. The roses of the garden grow fragrant, fruit and flowering buds swung from the trees, lavender sprouting from between the crackling veranda floor. An everlasting spring of your love, infinite as the elements that grow, and wither, and die, and rebirth into the earth allows you to plant your feet next to Vil’s. You look to him, finding mischief, kindness, and tenderness swirling in the violet, speckling with the glassy blue. It was as if the whole expanse of the sky lay within each of his eyes‒ infinity‒ you thought. Your infinity, a garden of lasting spring you would grow with each loving note from your throat. There would be frost, there would be decay‒ but not even the gods could lay their hands upon this infinite season. You titter, filled with its warmth, listening to the beat of his heart, spinning a song, an eternity from it.

——————————————————

Notes:

Title inspired by Shakespear's poem "Orpheus" “Orpheus with his lute made trees / And the mountain tops that freeze / Bow themselves when he did sing / To his music plants and flowers / Ever sprung; as sun and showers / There had made a lasting spring.”

Euainētos is an epithet for Orpheus, meaning well praised. I thought it would be interesting for an MC who has many people who love them for what they can give, rather than love them as a whole (the whole “people love me but don’t like me” dilemma). Love an angsty epithet.

Lavender has historically been a symbol for both lesbians and gay men‒ an overarching mark of queerness. I try to be as inclusive as I can with my language and writing‒ but all art is a self portrait of their creators. So, because I'm queer, my writing will inevitably be queer coded too. I thought it was a nice touch to add because I do headcanon Vil as queer‒ both in his gender and sexuality. The pronouns he uses in the Japanese version has a historical connection to the "Okama"/"transsexual" and contemporarily, queer people in Japan. Our culture I think often twists gender expectations and language because of the rigidity in our language and social structure as an extension of ourselves (language = very strong way to express the self = entices subversive use of this powerful tool). We also have a great history in queer gender performance in our performance arts‒ such as Kabuki and Takarazuka which have deep influences in our overall society and culture. Though western literature and society has not seen these people explicitly "queer" I think westerners (and Japan as it is affected by Western ideology) need to expand their definition of queerness so that it is culturally inclusive. So to me I think Vil falls within that definition of queerness (also, his dress/uniform slays) on the gender and sexuality spectrum and I thought lavender was a good, subtle nod to that.

Also, the hanakotoba (flower language) for Lavenders is "I await you", silence, hope, hesitancy, elegance, "love that forgives'', and "please answer to me"- it has both positive and slightly sorrowful sentiments, and an aspect of yearning that I love lol. I love flower language so fucking much I use it with every chance I get

Title is also inspired from this plus, yes you guessed it, our lord and savior Mitski (First Love/Late Spring)

Your mother's body is burned because cremation was popularized by the Athenians and became common practice by the Homeric era. Coin placed in the mouth (Charon's obol) is the payment for Charon to carry you across the river of the dead.

Why are there so many convoluted parental relationships in my fics? Easy! I have mommy AND daddy issues. Yes ladies you really can have it all

All the names I mentioned that are engraved onto the lyre are different epithets of Orpheus

Working on the Azul x Siren hanahaki fic soon~ Here is the post of myth-inspired ideas if you haven’t seen it

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honey-milk-depresso · 3 years ago

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thank you very much anon who shared his dream about vil

Now I want vil and a male version of Jessica Rabbit (Jesse?) to fight for my attention

Thanks

Mmmm yes-

Let him kabedon with his thick heel boots with chains on them U-U

#twst #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit thirst #twst thirst #honeymilkdepresso.exe #make him wear red eye shadow make up tho-#I don't know-#make him be fancy yet snappy-

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cravingsfromatwistedone · 3 years ago

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MC just not knowing or caring who Vil is makes him mad

If they won't admire him like everyone else does, then he'll have to make them. Doesnt realise he's the obsessed one

EVERYONE PRAISES HIM BUT YOU? YOU MAKE HIS BLOOD BOIL WHEN YOU SIMPLY ROLL YOUR EYES OR TURN YOUR HEAD AWAY

WHAT COULD HE DO TO MAKE YOU KNEEL TO HIM? TO MAKE YOU SING OUT WORDS OF AFFECTION TO HIM AND HIM ONLY?

HE WON'T TAKE YOUR VILENESS EASILY, HE'LL MAKE YOU BEND AND SNAP TO HIS WILL DARLIN

#twisted talks from hana #answered #twisted thirsts from darlings #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit headcanons #twst vil #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit #yandere vil x reader

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writing-for-me-at-this-point · 4 years ago

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Hello Hello! Mis Queen Bee! Can I ask for Twisted Wonderland Dorm Leaders with, K,I,A! Super duper please! Good luck with your blog!

letters: K, I, and A

characters: all dorm leaders

NSFW 18+

Riddle Rosehearts

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Poor boy will probably need to be the one tended to, more often than not. He's tired, not good at physical and straining activities, so after a long session he's beat. That doesn't mean he won't do anything for you though. He'd prefer to relax a bit first, his face in the crook of your neck, a hand in your hair or soothing any soreness/ tender areas. He has a strong grip, so when he grabs at your hips especially, expect the area to be sensitive for a bit. Amazing pillow talk, one of the few moments where he looks relaxed and calm, there's less tension in his muscles.

After you both rest up, he'll help with cleaning up, start the shower and get the both of you in there. He loves the intimacy that comes with this as well, and probably won't initiate too much in the shower. Will help with anything you need, and prefers to be the one taking care of your needs, rather than you taking care of him.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

As said before, he loves the intimacy of showering together, the feeling of his hands tending to you, and you to him. The long and soft touches, the warmth of skinship, he was raised to follow the rules and most included a "No touching" somewhere in there. He craves physical intimacy and it shows through sex as well.

His hands linger as they trail your body, his kisses don't truly lift from your skin as he makes his way to your pleasure, his torso often glues to your own once he starts to make his rounds. He keeps you close to him, murmuring small praises through his sighs and moans, he makes you feel wanted- needed in every way possible. His love language is touch, which becomes obvious rather quickly, and he'll beg you to listen to him each round.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Switch - He can mend himself to your needs, and doesn't prefer anything, more dependent on the mood he's in. Often in a dominant role though, a soft dom, loving and guiding you through your pleasure so gently. He will gladly sub though, allow you to take in the reins, because oh magnificent seven- does it feel good to just let loose.

Orgasm Control - This boy, woo. He may be a soft dom/sub, but he also loves to have orgasms controlled, both yours and his. It isn't a matter of following orders, but a sense of trust, that you'll eventually get your release if you just listen. That edging of being so close, but you can't get to it, not until the other allows them.

Overstimulation - He likes to feel needed, wanted, and that goes into overstimulation. He prefers to have it done on him, but if you're into it- he's ready and willing. Tease the head of his cock until he's whining and begging to cum, but remember, don't stop until he says your word (which would most likely be 'Rose' in his case) or he's having dry orgasms.

Leona Kingscholar

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Considering this isn't during a heat, his aftercare is catered towards you, due to him being raised to put others before himself- it's shown here as well. This man has a lot of stamina, and he is strong as hell, so expect to be sore, even during softer sessions with one another. His grip is begging and his kiss is dominant, but expect him to have you lead as well. Will prefer to cuddle up with you, his face buried into your hair, his hands smoothing out any cramps or knots, a deep purr will leave him if you do the same though. Prefers to cuddle and fall asleep, and considering this is Leona, it's all that you'll be able to do until you get that rest.

If he's in his heat? Oh boy. So, lions can mate up to over 100 times a day, but they can only last up to 20 seconds. What does this mean for my dearest honey bees? Lots of stamina, lots many rounds, lots of cum. His heat will shorten his ability to hold out, but that won't stop him from going, only just encourage him. While aftercare, without a heat, usually consists of pawing at each other to sleep- there will be little of this during said heat. It's more like during those few moments where his heat calms, you both try to clean up the bed and you end up on food and bathroom duty- you both can make do before his heat riles up once again.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

The intimacy Leona craves comes through his actions, rather than words, he will grip and paw at you no matter the position he has you two in. He is large and uses that to his advantage, cupping and groping at large parts of your body, your hips are never too far from his. He'll keep his face close to your neck, groaning about how good you take him, praising you all in the process. He feels like he's finally coming first when he's with you, he isn't falling behind Fareena- the spare rather than the heir, he's just Leona. He's your Leona, and that's all he wants, to remain himself. Though you can feel the intimacy when he slows down, he is rougher and faster than most, so it won't often feel like intimate love sessions- more like the both of you just being too needy for one another.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Face Sitting - This lion is lazy, and while he doesn't mind following your lead, he has his moments. So, what better than having you sit on his face? He has his mouth open and ready for you, just use it as you please, and his tongue will do the rest.

Riding Him - Just... be on top of him, please. You fulfill any and every fantasy this man has by either riding his dick or his thighs. He loves watching you use him for your pleasure, because you want him and only him, so it's only natural you'd show it by jumping the excited kitten.

Azul Ashengrotto

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Such a sweetheart. He really is. He does the tending in this case as well, but please, let him talk. He's more emotional than he lets on, and he is insecure, so let him talk about what he feels. He's an amazing listener too, but don't be fooled, Octobabe will praise everything that made him flush and more. He is someone that needs mental stimulation, before and after. He will do anything from talk about what you enjoyed to make you cry with laughter, he knows how to read you, it's a moment of vulnerability for the both of you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He knows how to make you feel like a royalty, close and lingering touches, hips lulling into yours so carefully- he's pouring every ounce of his emotion into this. He thrives off of mental stimulation, so praise and being vocal really get him going. He is vocal himself, praising you and not bothering to hide any sounds that leave him, especially in a private area where you two won't be interrupted. He can't seem to get enough of you, to the point where it can get too much, and it will lead to him either tearing up or his skin flushing into different colors- something similar to his Octoform.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Tentacles - If this Octobabe isn't using them on you, it's either during a quickie or you're both tired. Loves to watch you squirm in pleasure under him, unable to move away from the pleasure, his arms wrapped around your body to keep you nice and secure on him.

Light/Heavy Bondage - Goes with the tentacles. Depends on his mood, how much time you guys have, and some other factors- but in the end he isn't complaining when you're tied up and squirming, begging for some release.

Thigh/Chest Fucking - Something about warm plush thighs/breasts around him, his body either curled around yours/yours around him, it feels euphoric to him. He honestly loves it in the morning/night, when he's just woken up or is about to go to bed, this is the best way for him to be in a good mood for the next day or two. Maybe even get this boy to go feral who knows.

Kalim Al-Asim

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

The most playful and energetic aftercare you will ever experience. This man has seemingly endless energy, even if you two were spending the entire night fulfilling your needs, he will hold the brightest smile you've ever seen. It's contagious as well, just seeing those pearly whites and his shining ruby orbs, you'll be in absolute bliss. Whatever you need- he's got you! Has everything one would need in his bed-stand at this point, a watch list of movies to watch or rewatch, and a large shower waiting for you. There is a catch! He wants kisses till you fall asleep. That's it- that's the catch.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sex with Kalim is the most oxytocin-inducing act there is. His form of intimacy is through laughter and words of affirmation, so sex is giggly and full of praise, the smile seems to never leave no matter how soft it is. His fingers dip a bit too playfully, his kisses are deep and passionate, and his hips mold perfectly into yours. Pleasure and warmth flush through your body and you melt into a puddle, love flooding your senses, and you can't help but want more.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Light Bondage - Keeps things light (hah get it?) and fun! On you or him, he doesn't mind as long as you both enjoy it!

Orgasm Control - He loves being denied. So. Damn. Much. Tell him he can't cum until he's crying and begging you, moaning and thrusting into your hand or warmth for something more. Just please let him cum, he'll be a good boy, promise.

Submissive - As you can tell from above, he'll be the best he can be. Loves to relax and just follow, though he isn't a brat or go against orders, so be soft with him! He's a good boy, just for you, and what happens when you call him that? He's all over you, pleasing you and clinging to your every need, just please tell him he's doing a good job.

Vil Schoenheit

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

So, while Vil is arrogant and narcissistic, the fact that you managed to land him in a relationship is a miracle. Now, he isn't a prude, but having sex does mean something to him- he can't just have anyone experience The Vil Schoenheit. He is gentle, tender, loving, it almost sickens him- but he can't help keep doing so because that smile on your face?

That sigh you let out when he runs his hands through your hair? Or the small laughs you let out when he dips his fingers into those rather sensitive spots on your sides or hips. He takes care of everything with you. He shares a nice, long, hot bath with you- and when you're done you manage to somehow lotion up and find some type routine to exfoliate. Vil takes a while to actually get tired, so if you are he has no issue pampering you, and won't hesitate to carry you to any place you decide.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

You might as well make a blood pact with this man, marry him and promise to raise his children, and maybe merge souls- only if you can fit that into the schedule though. He will make you feel like you're the only thing that matters, because you are, because you managed to tie down Vil- and not the one he presents to the world, the one that's hidden away and defends himself in the enclosed space of his heart.

He lulls his hips into you so perfectly, like two puzzle pieces fitting into each other, he makes sure that you physically feel any and all emotions he does. He wants you to feel beautiful, to feel wondrous and drawn in by your own being, if he can feel it why shouldn't you? He is surrounded by beauty everyday and yet he can't get enough of yours, so to see you like this, spread out and taking all of him so well, nails ever careful of his skin, legs shivering in pleasure that only he can give you- he's practically crying by that point.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Light Bondage/Silks/Shibari - He doesn't do it for the control, he more or less does it because of the aesthetic. You both just look so pretty tied up and decorated with the softest silks and ropes, unable to fully move and just accept what the other has to offer up for pleasure, showing love and yet still mindful of what apparent that plays such a big part of his life.

Mutual Masturbation - Loves to watch you squirm for more as you pleasure yourself, following his rules and he follows yours, the both of you having both an amazing and frustrating time. One starts to tease, the other follows, one allows the other to get close and- oh no you need to slow your roll there love, you can't cum just yet. The teasing is endless and you find yourselves therefore rather copious amounts of time, poor Rook and Epel are stuck wondering where their dorm leader is as they wait for a meeting in the office.

Photos - You bet your ass this man has a Polaroid camera in his bedside drawer, and a small decorated velvet box filled with pictures of the two of you, ready to be used for any moment that Vil deemed beautiful. It isn't all just photos of the two of you having sex- they're also "off guard" photos of the both of you, knowing the camera was in the others hand, just didn't know exactly when the shot was taken. Polaroids of both of you changing, smiling in bed while laying down, looks of lust and love faded into one another. Intimate and forever secret moments shared between the two of you, photographed, and locked in a box hidden away for only your eyes.

Idia Shroud

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He gets rather sleepy after sex, now usually this boy likes to go 2-3 rounds, but it depends on the day and your moods. He is shy when it comes to aftercare at times, not wanting to mess up in any way, and let's you take the lead. He needs words of affirmation and soft, slow touches, nothing too fast and uprooting. Let him lay his head on your chest, listen to your heartbeat and calming breathing, and run your nails along his back- his skin is thick so it won't rise, but you do catch the flame near his roots become a deep indigo, the mix before he has it flush into a vibrant carmine.

He doesn't need much, but once he's calm and he starts to fall asleep, you hear him hum to you. His voice is rather nice, it has a lull and makes you fall into a deep sleep with him, the dizziness of sleep hangs over you like a thick fog in your head. Aftercare is more or less calming down from such an intense act, because while sex is great with Idia, the trust and ability to open up does take a toll on him mentally and emotionally. Poor guy needs to recharge, so just hold him and fall asleep, he needs it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Intimacy comes more in the form of being able to actually be with someone, be close and trust them, let alone get in the act. He is consistently hiding himself away from the world, but the world seems smaller and more attainable when you take its place, giving him love and praise. He allows himself to be greedy, to take from someone rather than push them away, fulfilling the craving for touch and intimacy.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Impact Play - Since he is quite the shut in, impact play is something he enjoys, it gives him some of that missing physical stimulation in one swift movement. He is in love with the sound of skin against skin, and brings out a sadistic side he doesn't see too often, though he reels himself in from pushing it too far.

Breath Play - Again, this is going into a more dominant/submissive side of him, and one he is more hesitant with. Start slow, don't get into the intense aspects too soon, so around the fourth or fifth time is when he gains confidence to go further. The dizziness that mixes with the warmth of arousal makes you melt into a haze that is Idia, one that makes you shudder in ecstasy when he pushes himself deeper and deeper, making each orgasm addicting- to the point where overstimulation comes much sooner than expected.

Oral - Is it even sex if he doesn't go down on you/suck you off? No- it isn't. This man loves to watch you squirm and buck your hips into his face, against his tongue/throat, moaning and running your hands through the soft blue flames that curl and dance across your hands. It's almost too much for him, but Great Seven was it one of the most beautiful things he can experience in his immortal life, and he can't help himself to more of you.

Malleus Draconia

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Large, cool, hands would palm and care for every ache, every tense muscle, kissing at your marked skin and using his ability to calm your excited body. You will be treated the way he was raised, with unconditional love, loyalty, and so tenderly you might as well curl up and cry because he is just so him. You're one of the few people in this world he truly loves and wants you to know that, because in the end, you make the world a little less bigger and more tolerable- more understandable.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Once Malleus knows you truly don't fear him, that this isn't an act, he allows himself to open his heart to you- let the vulnerability of opening his heart sit in your hands. He moves for your pleasure, he wants you to feel everything he does, he never wants to let you go out of his bed without knowing that his heart- his soul- is in your care. He whispers soft "I love you's" often, muttering small declarations of love in a tongue hidden just for those born or brought into Fay families, lost in a haze of affection and intimacy that runs deeper than anything in this dimension.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding - Ascending to a title of royalty and power leaves him with expectations, so it doesn't matter if you have the ability to bare children or not with him, he'll make it work with a potion or five. He's unrelenting at that point, he craves every piece of you, and the way you tighten around him is so delicious- he spills himself into you, locking his hips against yours, buried to the hilt. It makes his stomach run with excitement at the thought of you holding his children, a piece of him always with you, another way he could show his love for you to the world.

Marking - He can't help it- the drag of his fangs against your soft, warm, flesh. The shiver that racks your body, the small gasp, your nails trailing his own skin like a fire through a forest in a drought. The dark spots left on your skin make the darker part of him thrive, the marks of his teeth left from your neck to the insides of your thighs, the long scratches of his nails as they dig into you for pleasure- makes him crave every last piece of you.

Somnophilia - A bit cliche, considering the tale he is tied to, but hear me out. He thrives off of love and affection from you, and considering he wishes to please, taking the time to make a move on him first makes him feel wanted- needed. This would be discussed beforehand, not wanting to make anything seem unwanted, or make you feel uncomfortable in any way. If you agree, he wouldn't mind waking up to your hands working their wonders on his hardening cock, tongue lapping at any precum, the hum that leave your throat once you feel him bucking his hips into your mouth ever so slightly- it melts him into a puddle of a whimpers and moans.

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schoenheitslut · 4 years ago

Text

BABYSITTER

note/s :: literally just porn without plot. I vastly underestimated how long this would be. It’s completely self indulgent and based on the babysitter au idea I had earlier. This is probably shit but honestly it was so fun to write now that I don’t feel embarrassed while writing smut.

desc :: mari is a babysitter for epel. after tucking epel in, she finds rook in the kitchen and offers to cook dinner for him. she realizes that her two attractive bosses feel the same way about her.

word count :: 2263

pairing :: beautywings | rookvil x mari

Mari stretched her arms as she exited Epel’s room. It took a bit of time in order to get the rowdy child to bed but she managed to tire him out enough. It was kind of a shame that she didn’t get to tell him a bedtime story like usual but Vil is very strict about the exact time he needs to be asleep. Sometimes it was a little tiring to meet his standards but it was all worth it in the end. The family paid well and Epel was a sweet child.

Her eyes landed on the man sitting in the living room. A small smile graced her lips. “Ah, I see you’re back from work, Mr. Hunt. Have you eaten dinner?” She asked him.

He shook his head, mirroring her smile. He tipped his hat to her in greeting, gazing at her like he usually did. It looked as though he was a predator stalking his prey. But as a hunter, it was just his thing, she reasoned with herself internally. He’s never done anything to harm her. In fact, he was always so charming and sweet. Mr. Schoenheit was a lucky man to have him as a husband.

“Then let me make something for you.”

Mari made her way to the kitchen in order to cook something up for the two of them, as well as Mr. Schoenheit. Hopefully she can perfect her skill in making meals the way her two employers like it, knowing how high the actor’s standards were for everything. As she placed the ingredients onto the counter, she felt a warm breath on her neck, causing her to jolt and drop the ingredients on it. His arms wrapped around her.

“M-Mr. Hunt, what are you doing—”

She was interrupted by him. “Fufu, I’ve always dreamed of getting to know you carnally on this counter. The thought of having you for dinner tonight makes me feel so excited.” He couldn’t mask the giddiness in his voice. His hands roamed her body, groping at every curve.

“Mr. Hunt, you’re married— Ah!” She moaned at him slipping his fingers through her skirt and panties and inside her warmth, massaging her insides. She felt his tongue drag across her neck and collarbone. A heat spread throughout her body from her abdomen.

“Mm, yes. You’re so wet, mon petit lapin,” he cooed as he grinded his hips against hers, pressing his hardness to her ass.

She bit her lip, trying not to be too loud. But accidentally let another moan out when he inserted another finger into her depths. A knot formed in her loins, squeezing tightly and aching for release.

“Let me hear all your beautiful noises, mon chéri. Show me how much of a whore you are,” he whispered into her ear, tickling it lightly. It caused her to gasp. For some reason, she felt her pussy twitch at his words.

But then came the sound of heels clacking against the marble floor. Her heart stopped, recognising the sound and her head whipped up to see the glacial gaze of Mr. Schoenheit piercing through her soul.

She was so fucked.

“Mr. Schoenheit, I’m so sorry—”

Vil glared at his husband. “How dare you start without me, Rook? I should punish you for your impatience.” He walked over and pushed him off of the girl.

“Wha—”

She couldn’t even get a full word in before he pulled her towards him and picked her up, carrying her bridal style to their shared room. “Don’t be so surprised, darling. I hope you really didn’t think we didn’t notice how you look at the two of us with such longing eyes.”

Her cheeks heated up, unsure how to respond to all this but she couldn’t bring herself to protest. He was right. But god, it felt embarrassing to know that they were aware of how she saw them this whole time.

The model laid her on the bed, the silk sheets were more inviting and twice as sensual on her skin. A click sounded from behind them, indicating that the door had been locked.

“Sit down.” His voice was commanding, so much so that his husband immediately sat down on the chair. He pulled his drawer and took out some brilliant red rope before expertly tying his husband in a manner that reminded the girl of shibari, such intricate and detailed patterns were so elegant that she felt unworthy of seeing Rook in such an erotic state. She rubbed her thighs together, trying to calm the rising heat between them.

He tied a blindfold over his eyes, concealing them. Then, Vil turned to her, causing her to tense up. Her breath hitched. “Strip for me. Slowly.”

Mari gulped and nodded, unbuttoning her cardigan one at a time. She took it off, revealing her bare shoulders and started to strip off her dress which left her in her underwear.

He tutted. “They’re decent, but you could do better, my dear.” He eyed her underwear, judging the way the fabric hugged her body, how the color looked against her skin tone, and other things.

“I didn’t exactly expect this to happen, sir,” she spoke, finally able to actually get a whole sentence out.

A frown pulled at his lips. His expression was one of exasperation. “We were meant to wait until I deemed you ready but Rook had gotten too excited, so now I have to punish him for that.”

Vil crossed his arms. “But before we proceed any further, I must ask if you are truly alright with this. You’re allowed to say no if you do not feel comfortable with this. Do not feel pressured by our status as your employers.” He seemed so genuine with his words, like he truly cared about how she felt. “You may go home and forget this ever happened and I can assure you that it won’t affect your job.”

She bit her lip, nodding meekly. “Yeah, I was just shocked that you guys would actually… want this. I’m still having trouble believing this is actually happening.” This felt too good to be true. The two men that she pined for had just suddenly shown that they were interested in her. She wondered if this was just a really spicy dream she was having after being sexually repressed for years. But it was really nice that Vil cared enough for her consent first.

He smirked, leaning closer. His finger hooked underher chin to make her look directly at his lilac eyes that held such lust for her.

“Then we’ll have the whole night to convince you that this is very real.”

His other hand went behind her and unhooked her bra with ease. It fell to the ground with a near silent thud. She shivered, feeling a cool breeze nip at her flesh. He took off her panties as well, dropping them so that she was completely naked.

Vil led her to where Rook was and instructed her to get on her knees in front of him. The girl unzipped his pants and was startled by his thick length springing up, leaking precum. “Place it in between your breasts,” the taller male ordered her. She obliged, leaning closer to get him between her soft mounds. Rook shivered at the contact, his cock twitched lightly.

“Now, lick the tip.”

Mari opened her mouth and circled her tongue over the head, causing the hunter to moan lightly. She then felt a pair of hands snaking down to her nether regions, rubbing circles on her clit. This caused her breath to hitch.

“Take it in your mouth and massage him,” Vil commanded her as he moved closer to her, their bodies had gotten so close that she felt his hardness against her.

She followed his orders. Rook groaned at her actions, wishing that he could see her but the blindfold prevented him from doing that. “Mon ange, please—”

The actor noticed and a mirthful smirk pulled at his glossy lips, enhancing his gorgeous features. “Begging already, are we?” He asked. “How pitiful. Usually you can last hours before you’re even pleading for release.”

“But I suppose it can’t be helped,” he continued on, “You couldn’t even wait until she was ready, and now I have to punish your impatience.”

“You’re not allowed to cum until I say so, got it?” His voice was commanding, so much so that Rook had nodded immediately.

“Keep going,” Vil whispered into the girl’s ear before he looked down at her sopping wet cunt. His fingers entered her, making her gasp around his husband’s cock. “Hm, I see Rook did one thing right. You should be wet enough.”

His hard length pressed against her ass when she continued to tease Rook, who was doing well when it came to holding back. She swirled her tongue around his tip. Looking up at him like this was a glorious sight to behold. His skin shone with sweat and his body was completely ripped. His chest heaved as he breathed. A nice red blush dusted his pale cheeks.

Mari cried out when she felt Vil’s cock enter her. The more intense vibrations around his manhood caused Rook to jolt in pain and pleasure.

Vil waited for her to adjust for a moment before moving his hips to grind against hers. The heat between her legs intensified, raging like a fire. She moaned at the sensation, feeling him hit all the right places.

The hunter wished for nothing more than to be able to see during that moment. It must’ve been quite a sight to see his cock between her soft tits while she sucked the tip as Vil pounded into her from behind. He groaned. “Roi du Poison, please… forgive me.”

Vil hummed before looking down at Mari. “What do you think, dear? Should I?” He asked her before angling his hips upward to hit her g spot.

“I think he learned his les-SON!” Mari felt herself go cross-eyed when he hit that spot within her. The knot tightening in her loins.

“Hmph, you’re certainly forgiving. But fine. As it is your first night with us, you’ll have your way,” he said. He turned to his husband. “You have our permission.”

Upon hearing those words, Rook immediately spilled his seed into her mouth, filling it with his creamy essence.

“Don’t swallow just yet. Take off his blind fold.”

Mari pulled away, tasting the thick saltiness of his cum. She leaned up to remove the blindfold from his eyes. Hunter green irises locked with milk chocolate-hued ones.

“Make him taste himself,” Vil commanded as he leaned down on her shoulder to leave a trail of kisses.

Rook’s eyes darkened with lust and hunger when she closed in on his lips. It was obvious just how eager he was when his tongue entered her wet cavern. He moaned, finding bliss in such an intimate act shared between him and the girl.

“Mon ange, my cum tastes divine on you.”

As they did this, Vil quickened his thrusts, hitting every sweet spot in the process and making her cry out. Her body felt as though it was on fire with every thrust. Her walls hugged his thick cock, tightening around it.

“Mr. Schoenheit… Mr. Hunt…” Mari gasped, breathing heavily as she pulled away from the hunter, his seed dripped onto her breasts. “It feels so good…”

Rook leaned down to lick her bud, nibbling on it lightly. “Oh, my dear slut, you’re doing so well. But please, call us by our first names.” he praised her. She bit her lip.

“Ara? You’ve tightened around me when you were called a slut.” Vil smirked. “Does that mean you want to be treated like one?”

Mari couldn’t answer as the knot tightened more and more, needing release soon.

Smack!

“Ah!”

He gave her an icy glare, slowing his thrusts to a torturous pace. “I asked you a question, whore. I expect you to answer.”

She nodded frantically, desperate for relief. “Yes! Please treat me like your cumslut. I am nothing more than a toy for your pleasure.”

He hummed, smirking. “That wasn’t so hard now, wasn’t it? And for that, you’re allowed to cum now. Remember to thank me for filling you with my seed.”

Vil started going at a brutal pace. Fast squelching noises could be heard. The room was permeated with the scent of sex.

“Ah! Yes, thank you, Vil! Thank you!” Mari cried out repeatedly as she started going cross-eyed with pleasure.

And with one final thrust to her g spot, she squealed. She saw stars in her vision as euphoric bliss engulfed her senses. The knot in her loins snapped. She felt his seed flood her cunt before he slowly pulled out, some cum dripped onto the floor.

Mari panted heavily before collapsing, then was caught by Vil. He brought her over to the bed, laying her on it. Then, he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

“You did well, my dear,” he praised her.

He turned around and started untying his husband’s constraints. The rope dropped to the floor.

Rook got up from the chair and approached her with a smirk. She looked up, a bit confused.

Vil turned to her. “I did say that we had the whole night to convince you after all. Don’t be so surprised.” He sat down, observing them with his lilac eyes.

“Ah, mon petit lapin, how I’ve waited to ravish you for so long.” Rook licked his lips as he neared her. “Now I can do it all night long.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #twst thirst #rook hunt x mc #vil schoenheit x mc #rookvil x mc

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lair-of-asmodeus · 8 months ago

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Happy Birthday Vil 👑

“What do you mean by that, potato?!”

He crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows in anger, amethyst eyes glaring daggers at you... You were laying down on the bed, curled up with your knees on your chest, with your back turned to him and you were at the verge of tears. Still, you looked at him in the eye and started talking.

“I mean... I hate how I look... Here you are with beautiful hair, eyes, lashes, porcelain skin, glossy lips... But when I look at myself, I feel a little.. ugly...”

He remained silent, but the hand that was on your shoulder before was gone. You heard the bed rustle and the next thing you knew was him pulling you close. You looked back, but his expression was unreadable; you couldn’t figure out what he was feeling... His hand went to your chest, then he lowered it to your leg.

“Liebling...” He whispered in your ear and kissed your neck, then trailed his hand and lips down to your back. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Mm..?”

“I love you just the way you are...”

You reluctantly turned to face him.

“...”

“And don’t you ever forget that, okay?”

His hands were now on your wrists, pinning them while you’re beneath him with your ass up in the air. With how his cock moved in and out of you, with how some parts of your body was covered in purple lipstick marks and with how much the slicky sounds coming from your poor, abused hole, you couldn’t help but scream every time his cock drew out a moan from you. You tried so hard to bite your lips, but the next second Vil entered in your mouth with his tongue and started kissing you while he fucked you senselessly. When he broke off the kiss, he put a hand on your chin to make you look at him in the eye.

“(Y/N)...”

He gently called out your name in contrast to his relentless pace.

“Look at me, (Y/N)...”

You looked away in shame, but his tone was stern.

“I want you to look at me, (Y/N)..!”

You shut your eyes tightly, but he stops for a moment to gaze at your figure; your slightly twitching body, your flushed cheeks, your eyebrows, your (e/c) eyes... Then he places a sweaty kiss on your forehead and keeps thrusting, causing you to subconsciously scream out his name.

“Vil~!”

He leans in again and kisses your temple.

“Look at you, my sweet potato... You are more beautiful like this.. with a sight only I’M allowed to see... Do you understand~?”

You nod as he kisses your neck and grabs your hips, thrusting one last time before emptying his load into you which makes you scream out his name for the nth time.

#twisted wonderland smut #twst smut #vil schoenheit thirst #vil schoenheit smut #Again this was short :'(#Sorry-#I think I’m starting to lack inspiration for fics...

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months ago

Note

WHAT

[Other May 2024 JP server news!]

MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY 😭 After 4 long years… TWST has finally given us the elusive bare Rook arms and his Savanaclaw era design???????

Look at how well-defined his arms are, the Magical Archives was NOT lying about his secretly buff physique… The curly hair??? Freckles???? Ripped T-shirt sleeves???? Even the brows are noticeably different… THE GASP I GASPED WHEN I LAID EYES ON THIS DUDE OTL It’s suuuuch a drastic change???? Vil described Rook’s Savanaclaw days so… well. A little TOO well… (I laughed a little upon realizing Rook always wore some iteration of a hat; in this context, it feels more cowboy-ish.)

ALSO I THOUGHT BRO WAS CARESSING VIL’S DORM UNIFORM WHEN I FIRST SAW THIS CARD (then I looked closer and realized it seems to be Rook’s bed). The floor pattern does not look like Rook’s room though…? Did he just. Yoink some Pomefiore fabric and hide out in a rando’s room to admire it??? THAT’S AN EVEN SCARIER THOUGHT…

I feel like this is a fever dream that I can’t wake up from 🤡 This right here, officer… This is what my sleep paralysis demon looks like… He T-poses in the corner of my bedroom and watches me sleep while whispering “omelette du fromage” 💀

I didn’t think we’d be dream-hopping to every individual student’s dream to pull them out of it because that feels like such a time sink (and book 7 is already so long), but… why the sudden limited Rook banner drop to go with a book 7 update???? Are we actually going to be waking everyone up one by one…? Well then that also opens up the possibility of a book 8 since there’s no way TWST could cram all this dream hopping AND cleanly resolve all the other lingering questions (Grim’s origins, Ace’s UM, Crowley’s motives, why was Yuu brought to Twisted Wonderland, etc.)????

How fitting that it’s the enigmatic Rook Hunt to send us all spiraling and questioning everything JUST BY SHOWING UP IN NEW (old?) THREADS…

#twisted wonderland #twst #Rook Hunt #Vil Schoenheit #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #book 7 spoilers #Dire Crowley #Grim #Yuu #Ace Trappola #notes from the writing raven #question #Rook Hunt thirst

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globalrebrand · 2 years ago

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When You Deny Them

Third Years Part I: Vil, Leona

Warnings: None, not sfw, gn!reader, fluff

A/N: I'll do more of these for the other third years, hopefully.

Vil Schoenheit

With Vil, sex usually happens organically and by mutual invitation. A cuddling session will turn frisky, a scheduled encounter you both have been anticipating all day, (you and Vil are so busy you have to plan sex 😢 but it can still be sexy!)

Otherwise Vil goes off your cues. Touch his thigh and give him sultry look and he’s prepared to put you back in your place for "groping him so brazenly." Crawl into your shared bed and straddle him, or whisper in his ear how much you missed him. After some teasing, Vil will put aside most things to indulge you.

However he’s not used to you not giving him the green light. And Vil prefers you initiate because he likes to feel wanted, it's the ultimately a little ego boost for him. So what does he do when he’s horny but you’re not matching his energy or giving him the signal?

He doesn’t actively seduce you generally. The only times Vil initiates are on special occasions, your birthday, anniversary, etc, or when he’s trying to interrupt your plans so you stay in instead of going out without him.

However, if you keep turning down his advances he'll preen just like a peacock would, metaphorically spreading his tail feathers and flashing them at you.

Vil will put in a little more effort to get your attention. He'll lounge around in silk pajama with the shirt unbuttoned and recline in seductive poses.

He’ll even sneak up on you shirtless, lightly perspiring while wearing some running leggings that show off his toned ass and bulge and whisper in your ear that he's about to take a shower and how boring it would be without you.

If you wave him off he might spill something on you so you have to join him

If those attempts don't work, he'll up the ante. Vil will plan a romantic evening at home, hiring a private chef and serving a meal exclusively of known aphrodisiac foods and red wine. He'll turn on music the two of you can slow dance to on you patio over looking your beautifully maintained garden. Then he presents you with a new piece of jewelry or fancy watch. Hoping that is overtures will entice you. After all what a good partner he is! Spoiling you so.

And if that doesn't work...Vil’s not above playing the jealousy card to rile you.

If he's being subtle he'll post a thirst trap on magicam that will get a lot of attention, if he really wants to make you jealous he'll make sure you see other people fawning over him when you go to events. He hopes you'll get so worked up that you just drag him in to the bathroom and ride him. Pretty please, he won't beg. yet

Vil would never admit it, but he kind of loves then you play hard to get, telling him your busy and denying him, it only makes him all the more eager to finally get you back in his bed, or shower, wherever really since he can be so competitive, but... after a certain time the fun wears off and he has to get more forceful.

He does this by nudging you awake if you fell asleep after completing your nightly skincare routine and telling you that he has something that can ensure you have good dreams (his dick), but if you rebuff him yet again he’ll just shoot straight.

"Is something wrong my love? Have I not made my intentions clear enough? I want you...very badly."

If you tell him you're tired or over worked and thusly not in the mood, he pulls one last resort.

He schedules a vacation where he can have you all to himself.

Vil gets it you are both busy with your respective lives but you both have needs that neither of you are fulfilling with your current routine. If you work he’ll call your boss and tell them he’s taking you on vacation for a month and that if they have a problem with it that he can get you a better job with the snap of his fingers.

He picks an extremely romantic vacation in a gorgeous locale but there's really little point, Vil just wants to keep you in the hotel room.

"Isn't this wonderful, I have you all to myself little one." He'll coo while he curls his arms around you as you look out of a balcony over crystal waters. "Zero distractions. How about you make it up to me? You can start on your knees."

Leona Kingscholar

Sex with Leona is frequent and if it doesn't start as a natural part of how much time you spend napping and cuddling in bed, Leona initiates by telling you exactly what he wants you to do. Sometimes he's sweet and sultry about it, "pretty little herbivore, why don't you go ahead and get yourself off on my dick, yeah?" Other times he's straightforward. "Oi herbivore, get over here and ride me." Depends on his mood.

Regardless, Leona is a man with expectations about the sex he is "owed" in a relationship and if he’s not getting it he’ll be vocal about it. He's horny damn it! You're supposed to take care of that.

If you scold him for being grumpy towards you he’ll probably respond with something snarky like "sorry, I haven’t had my dick sucked in a week" And yes a week is all it takes to have leona protesting about sexual neglect and alienation of affection.

When it comes to you, Leona is absolutely shameless. He goes on the prowl, for you. Stalks you in your (shared) home during the day. He'll tug your undergarments down and grope at you or fondle you over your clothes. He will knock it off if you tell him to in a really firm tone that's not what you want right now, but then he’ll start demanding reasons why the two of you can’t drop everything and fuck in this hallway. The servants would just look the other way so there's really no harm in it, right? wrong

If he’s really desperate he’ll try to service you to entice you. A rare occurrence. You’ll wake up and he’ll be kissing the insides of you thighs and asking if you need him to do anything for you or complaining that he's hungry. Leona makes it very hard to turn him away, but if you have the strength to bat a pining Leona away from your spread thighs power to you.

In another bout of desperation for you, Leona will purposely arrange a situation where you catch him masturbating. On your bed, in the shower, hell even on a couch in a very high traffic area of your home. Shirt unbuttoned, cock out, looking completely unashamed as he asks, "You can help me with this can't you herbivore?"

He'll start walking in on you naked more than he already does to try and strike when you're vulnerable. And while normally Leona's a bit stingy with compliments, they suddenly become free flowing, if a not a little guilt tripping.

"So pretty, herbivore, and for what? Depriving me of this beautiful body. It's such a shame."

After a while Leona makes you a proposition. "If I beat you in chess, I get to do whatever I want with you." He won't take no for an answer (he's painfully stubborn) but the game really isn't fair considering how good Leona is at chess. When he inevitably wins he'll gloat and make sure you make if up to him. He won't tell you, but he really missed your routine intimacy.

"Finally, I can get what I need." Leona purrs as he pulls you into his chest, when you complain about his statement he adds, "Don't worry I'll take care of you too, but you have a lot to make up to me...now on the bed and spread 'em, be quick about it."

#twst wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona smut #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #vil schoenheit smut #leona kingscholar smut #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #twst scenarios #twst imagines #vil smut

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thesunshineriptide · 2 years ago

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Three is the Magic Number

Oh great wheel of names, reveal to me the trios paired!

Characters: Riddle, Trey, Cater, Ace, Deuce, Leona, Ruggie, Jack, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Kalim, Jamil, Idia, Ortho, Vil, Rook, Epel, Lilia, Malleus, Silver, Sebek, Yuu, Grim

Cw// swearing, mentions of m*rder and death, implications of ab*se and Riddle’s past, implications of mental health issues, platonic bed sharing and cuddling

This is based off of my person experiences in choir. They paired us pretty randomly which lead to some…interesting situations. So I decided to do the set up I had on tour (two full sized beds, 3-4 people to a room) because I think it’s funny when other people have to go through that. I used wheel of names to sort them into threes, then whoever was left over would stay with Yuu and Grim

Group A: Idia Shroud, Cater Diamond, Sebek Zigvolt.

First thing that happens is Idia tries to get his own room. When he fails, he just groans and sucks it up. He barely sleeps anyway, so who cares. Second thing that happens is Sebek immediately goes into logistics. Who sleeps alone and who has to share? What is the shower routine going to look like? Where does everyone plan to keep their luggage? What time does everyone want to be woken up the next morning?

The answer to these questions from Cater and Idia are disappointing to Sebek. Idia says he’ll “sleep” on the floor (aka play games on his tablet until morning) and Cater says he simply doesn’t care. It ends up with Sebek sleeping alone while Cater and Idia sit on the other bed, showing each other memes and watching stupid watchmojo videos.

Eventually Sebek gets tired of the light pollution coming from five feet away and goes into a long rant about how rest is important for the body and spirit of a warrior and blah blah blah. Idia and Cater couldn’t care less, they just turn down their brightness and Sebek leaves them be. Late into the night when Cater and Idia get kinda tired, they talk about deep personal shit they normally wouldn’t, but proximity makes it hard to keep in. They end up sleeping in the same bed, and wake up spooning (Idia is the little spoon) at 6 am because Sebek is a madman.

Group B: Silver, Leona Kingscholar, and Vil Schoenheit

Being completely honest, none of these guys particularly care. There’s two beds, there’s two prissy bitches, and one dude who falls asleep anywhere and everywhere.

Silver ends up taking the desk chair in the corner, looking surprisingly comfy. Leona takes the bed closest to the door and Vil takes the one near the window and AC.

Leona ends up leaving his shit everywhere because he’s used to Ruggie being the one to pick it up. Unfortunately, Vil doesn’t play that shit and they end up getting into a fight over it. Silver wakes up sometime during this and watches them from his chair, snacking on some chips he packed.

Speaking of, Vil’s got several bags, two dedicated to clothes, one to shoes, and one to his skincare supplies and makeup. Silver packed two outfits, a collapsible staff, a baton, two daggers, a set of silverware, and a million and one snacks. Leona has no idea what’s in his bag because Ruggie packed it for him, but he knows there’s clothes and probably shoes somewhere in his duffel bag.

Eventually everyone settles back down and once Vil is done taking 2 hours in the bathroom, everyone ends up going to bed pretty easily. Vil takes beauty sleep seriously and the other two just nap wherever

Group C: Jack Howl, Kalim Al Asim, and Ace Trappola

The magic wheel of names seemed to have a thirst for chaos, because putting these three in a room is asking for it. When they first enter the room, Ace ran at the nearest bed and yelled “dibs!” While Kalim and Jack struggled to get all the luggage through the door.

Kalim, ray of sunshine he is, immediately said okay to sharing with Jack. Jack, however, had a different thing in mind, tugging Kalim over to where Ace laid face down on the bed and promptly squishing him further into it.

Ace struggled from under them and eventually managed to roll out just as Kalim’s hands managed to find a pillow, promptly smacking Ace with it. This obviously resulted in a pillow fight.

Unfortunately, Jack Howl is not as responsible as everyone seems to think, because with Ace’s insistence and Kalim’s puppy eyes, he relents to sneaking out of the room to fuck around. The three managed to steal from a vending machine, run up and down all the halls, and go swimming in the pool. They were pretty surprised to run into Floyd, who was doing the same, but he was surprisingly chill and ended up joining their little group at Kalim’s invitation.

When they finally make it back to their dorm room, Floyd ends up staying with them. Kalim and Ace share one bed while Floyd and Jack share another. Floyd is a cuddler and so is Kalim, which means there’s no escape. They all end up late for their call time and get yelled at.

Group D: Riddle Rosehearts, Ruggie Bucchi, and Malleus Draconia

Every single person in this group is nervous. Riddle is nervous because Ruggie is known for robbing people and Malleus is naturally kinda intimidating, Ruggie is nervous because holy fuck two housewardens in one room and they’re the scary ones, and Malleus is nervous because he doesn’t want to scare his little friends.

Riddle is the one to act most at ease, despite being nervous. He goes about his routine of checking his notes, taking a shower, readying his clothes for the next day, and drinking a cup of calming tea before bed like usual. Ruggie pretends everything is alright as he makes small talk with Malleus, slowly loosening up when he realizes that the faerie prince isn’t gonna eat him. Malleus mostly watches everything play out with interest, playing with his tamagotchi and idly amusing Ruggie.

Eventually Ruggie gets bored and turns on the TV to a kids channel, watching the cartoon playing with mild interest. He also makes himself some microwave popcorn, and ends up offering Malleus some as well.

Riddle wants to be pissy about the TV being on, but he figures that keeping Malleus and Ruggie happy is probably more important. Eventually after getting pretty annoyed, he also watches the cartoon. He ends up completely enraptured since he never got to watch them as a kid, and it shows. Now, instead of watching the TV, Ruggie and Malleus are watching him.

When they eventually shut off the tv after some snarky banter between the lot of them, it’s surprisingly Malleus and Riddle that share. Malleus doesn’t sleep, but he does like to lounge, and Riddle sleeps like the dead due to ignoring his parents yelling as a kid, so it ends up being good for all of them. Riddle also sleeps in fetal position and will cling to anything nearby, so Malleus ends up with a very tiny red haired menace latched on his arm in a death grip all night. Neither one talk about it when he wakes up. (Ruggie enjoys the entire bed to himself and sprawls out across it, waking up turned sideways and head hanging off the edge in the morning)

Group E: Floyd Leech, Jamil Viper, and Azul Ashengrotto

Could the great seven not show some mercy to poor Jamil? Not only is he stuck with Floyd Leech and Azul Ashengrotto for three full nights, but there was an error on the hotels part, leading there to be one king sized bed instead of two full sized ones.

Floyd and Azul don’t really care, they’ve known each other forever and it’s not like they haven’t slept in the same space before. However, both Jamil and Azul are nervous messes for one reason in particular - Jamil hates Azul. And Azul…is a simp.

After the two stand around staring at each other for way too long, Floyd just goes, “I’ll sleep in the middle!” Then bellyflops on the bed. This does not make it better.

Azul instead just sighs, then disappears into the bathroom to change. Floyd and Jamil don’t bother with that, because basketball club and all. Once everyone ends up in their pajamas and teeth brushed and all that, Azul and Floyd climb into bed. Azul lays on his side, facing outward, while Floyd lays on his back staring expectantly at Jamil.

When Jamil finally gets in, he is immediately trapped by Floyd and forced to stay laying. Now, Floyd has his legs trapping Azul’s down while he grasps onto Jamil with his arms, pressing his face into Jamil’s shoulder.

Eventually two of them manage to find sleep, but Floyd gets bored and decides to go for a swim. He ends up staying with group C for the night.

Next morning, Azul and Jamil are snuggling. It seems that everyone at this school is fucking touchstarved. Azul has his head pressed into Jamil’s chest, legs intertwined and otherwise curled in on himself, and Jamil is cradling him with one arm thrown over his waist, the other under Azul’s head. When they wake up they end up springing away from each other. Azul stutters out apologies while Jamil insistently refuses to talk about it. Then they remember Floyd is supposed to be there and start freaking out. Don’t worry, they find him.

Group F: Jade Leech, Epel Felmier, and Lilia VanRouge.

Epel nearly pisses himself when he finds out who he’s rooming with. The old guy who can burn water and the henchman of the fish mafia seems like a recipe for disaster.

It turns out it’s actually not that bad, though. Jade is perfectly courteous, even if he’s a bit formal, and Lilia isn’t nearly as chaotic as Epel assumed he would be. He never asks about bed arrangements, and neither Lilia or Jade offer any information. Instead, Jade and Lilia sit on one bed while Epel sits on the other.

It’s Lilia who turns on the TV to a competitive cooking show, but it’s Jade who seems to take most interest. The two vice housewardens talk amongst themselves about the techniques and recipes of the contestants, place their bets about who will win what round and who’s going home. Epel sits silently and half assess the skincare routine Vil makes him do.

At the stroke of midnight, Lilia stretches dramatically and says, “I think it’s time for you two to get some sleep.” Before he reaches down and digs out his game. Jade says nothing, instead changing into his comically large pajamas before quietly saying “goodnight” and settling himself into the bed he was sitting on. Epel does the same, watching laying on his side to watch Lilia and Jade for a while before he actually fell asleep. Last thing he remembered was Lilia giving a sly grin and a chuckle before waving his magic pen at him, so he assumes Lilia did something.

Lilia stays up all night, like Malleus, and plays his game the whole time. He hears people running up and down the halls at around 3am, but just laughs to himself.

Jade sleeps on his side with a pillow on top of his head, and barely moves in his sleep. He doesn’t even look like he’s breathing, which lead Lilia to check and make sure he was alive a few times. Epel, on the other hand, kicks, squirms, mumbles, and snores in his sleep. All of it fairly loudly. Jade is somewhat grumpy when he wakes up, but a latte and he’s in better shape, so he won’t have to murder his roommates today. Epel is very energized though, and practically bouncing around. Jade has to count every reason why he can’t hurt Epel in his head as he finishes breakfast, carefully keeping his face neutral but his eyes read “I’m going to stab you”

Group G: Deuce Spade, Rook Hunt, and Trey Clover

These three do not care. Like at all. Deuce has shared a bed with Ace, and Ace is an ass, so this is a cakewalk. Trey is just exhausted, and Rook is…Rook.

Rook is the one who ends up sleeping alone, due to the fact that neither Trey nor Deuce feel comfortable sleeping so close to someone who literally hunts other students, but other than that it’s chill. Trey and Rook talk about dumb science shit while Deuce does his best to keep up, even going as far as taking notes for later. They end up doing homework together for a while before watching an action-comedy movie before bed (Deuce and Rook wanted action, Trey didn’t want to be fucking bored)

Trey and Deuce don’t end up cuddling, per say, but they do end up touching. Their legs are close pressed together, Trey is somewhat sprawled, and Deuce is curled up facing away from Trey. Trey ends up with a hand pressing against Deuce’s back.

Deuce and Trey wake up slightly alarmed to do the fact that Rook is staring at him. Trey just sighs and turns over, which means that Deuce just feels kinda silly when he starts mumbling random panicked words.

Eventually they do all get up because it’s the call time, and Deuce has to very carefully persuade Rook to leave the bow and arrow behind for the day. Trey doesn’t speak until he’s had coffee, and ends up sitting near Jade in complete silence.

Group H: Ortho Shroud, Yuu, and Grim.

The one dude who’s a robot and can’t sleep in a bed is the one the prefect and Grim are left with. It’s not unpleasant - it means that each of them get their own bed, much to Grim’s joy, but it is a little odd.

Regardless, they have a great time. Ortho is always pleasant company, happy to chatter away about anything. Grim is always unpleasant company, because he’s a tiny, furry arsonist. Truly, the amount of fire in the room is a bit of a concern to the one human among them, but not enough to really care.

Grim and Ortho don’t bathe which means the bathroom is pretty much all Yuu’s. They come back to find Ortho and Grim also watching cartoons, sitting on one bed while your stuff lay untouched on the other one.

It’s roughly 11pm when you decide it’s time for the kids to sleep, and while Grim complains, Ortho doesn’t. Instead he just pulls out his charging cable and looks for the closes outlet.

Yuu gets up and goes to help him out, letting him sit in the desk chair as they plug in his charger. They carefully plug him in and make sure he’s comfy, then give him a (PLATONIC) kiss on the forehead before he enters rest mode. What a cute little robot kid.

Grim doesn’t wanna go to bed but when reminded that he has a whole one to himself, he finally settles down for rest.

Yuu goes to bed shortly after, mentally checking off everything on their list of things to do today and planning for the one of tomorrow.

When they wake up, Grim is snoozing on their chest, Ortho is carrying some prepackaged goods, and it’s exactly one half hour before call time.

“It’s important to eat something before a day full of activity.” Ortho says calmly, handing you the procured foods and leaning over to pet Grim, “We have one half hour before call time. May I go to my brother?”

Yuu nodded, “of course! Thanks, Ortho. I’ll come find you and Idia in twenty minutes, okay?”

“Okay! See you then!”

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emyluwinter · 2 years ago

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May I make a request a headcanon of Rook and Vil as Vampire grooms? (Think the Ghost Bride event but instead of Eliza, it's Rook and Vil if that makes sense?)

What would they be like? Were they always vampires or were they human once? How do they behave? Etc, etc. Thank you and have a good day!

You know, I usually don't take such requests. But I came up with an interesting idea….

Yes, about the next AU.

I'm sorry, my dear. I hope this doesn't go too far against what you wanted to read from me.

AU, where is Yuu/MC is a messenger/postman among the world of supernatural beings.

Something like a hunter of evil spirits. Only Yuu is now a postman and does not hunt for anyone. Poor Prefect. In what AU they just did not enter. Ahahahaha.

So our humble postman, who was hired by a completely random coincidence. * cough * Crowley's failed machinations * cough* Goes straight to the lair of one of the young and influential vampires, in the middle of the night. You ask how a simple person wasn't devoured by vampires who didn't know about Yuu yet? Very simple. Perfume. Sickening creepy strong-blown spirits. So strong that Yu himself had to walk in a raspirator. And no one really knew the Prefect's face. No self-respecting vampire, and with at least a small grain of self-preservation instinct, does not approach the postman. Because ....

1. The smell will make their sense of smell hit their brains so hard that they won't even realize what they're doing.

If they are very assertive. They will get a powder in their face from which they will sneeze for at least an hour.

Holy water does not particularly harm them. But vampires carefully take care of their skin, and holy water can cause wild irritation and rash all over their body.

Yuu has a special whistle that deafens any "creature" very loudly. And the postman manages to run away gracefully and with curses at this time.

Only new converts have a strong "withdrawal and bloodlust", older vampires cope with thirst perfectly and find alternative options to eat.They also eventually return to "meals" like ordinary people.

So our beautiful vampire * wild cough* the family I love * wild cough* the trio settled in one of the main halls and waited for news.

Vil Schoenheit (goddesses of mercy, I will never be able to remember how to spell his last name correctly)

One of the main leaders of this castle-mansion-refuge among vampires. So to speak, this is a center where vampires do not need to hide and ordinary people who are not particularly aware of all the details of their lives do not bother them.

-Has an extensive social life. And he doesn't hide it at all.

-He was an actor in the past. After a couple of continuous years of attention and a brilliant career, he wanted peace and quiet to gain strength and the memory of him subsided slightly.

-When he was young human, his career was just beginning and literally gave the first sparks of a brilliant career. But after turning into a vampire, everything stopped for several years. He had to disappear with a nervous breakdown from the experience and from the realization and find this mansion "Pomfiore" to recover. Turning into a vampire was painful and without consent. It was one of the most terrible and terrible periods in the life of Vil.

One of the vampires lost himself and started attacking some people that caught his eye. Unfortunately, he caught sight of a Vil returning from training that evening. What became of that vampire is little known, the hunters took care of him. But the Beautiful Queen had to come to terms with a new "reality" and his "new self" That's how he got into the mansion from the hunters. For After rehabilitation in Pomfiore. Soon he returned to his activities with stunning success. True, he stipulated some "nuances" for his work. The sunlight burned him at first. Over time, it became the fact that he "quickly turns red and burns in the sun"

Vampires have the most powerful sunscreen among all the others.ahahah.

Rook Hunt

His past is a mystery, but only Vil was able to find information that the Rook family was completely attacked by several vampires. His family escaped with only scratches or bruises. But the Rook was the least lucky. He was also forcibly turned into a vampire. And with a heavy heart, he had to leave his family for rehabilitation. Hunters identified him first under the head of Sawanaclaw - Leona. Expecting that it will become easier for him here. But the place, although it was not bad, but with the meeting of Vil, who visited the head of the Kingscholar lands, his views changed and he begged for a transfer to another place. Rook is one of those vampires who "takes care" of certain new vampires a little and helps them get used to life with vampire blood in their veins. He communicates with his family and when vampires go through several stages of "thirst" they can visit their families. But only under the strict supervision of one of the older vampires or hunters.

Both Vill and Rook communicate with their relatives and friends. In fact, Pomfiore is for them a kind of outlet from those terrible memories and pain that they had to go through.

Sooooooooooo. Let's go back to the query. Sorry I got carried away…..

Sitting in a comfortable, elegant armchair, Yuu peacefully snacked on sandwiches and tea that other vampires kindly treated them to. After the long drive to the mansion, Yuu was always fed something. Either they brought a snack with them or bought food on the spot. For newcomers, Yuu was "a breath of air from the past nomal life" and they also always brought some news or interesting stories. It's funny, but with the arrival of Yuu, I always had to open the windows so that no one would suffocate from the "smell of security"

-So…..why did you call me? - Sipping a sip of hot tea, Yuu watched the two main vampires of Pomfiore with interest.

-Oh, our dear postman, how do you feel about marriage? - Rook cooed, quickly sorting letters into various drawers of the closet for each resident of their mansion.

-Ahem…..haven't planned yet? - puzzled, tilting his head and with a questioning tone, Yuu turned his gaze to Vil, who meanwhile was reading a fresh newspaper.

-Great. We need a "marriage partner" for one occasion. You're just right for it. - quickly and gracefully folding the newspaper, Vil fixed his stunning beautiful eyes on the humble postman. Who were even more confused.

-Ah, King of Poison, you beat me to it! Our humble postman was "my first" choice, you know~

-Well, you should have been faster Rook. - Vil smiled smugly.

-Did you ……still eat those fermented grapes, right? And I told you it wouldn't end well. - becoming even more confused, Yuu quickly looked around and evaluated the escape options. The choice fell on an open window.

-No, no. we don't eat suspicious things. - Rook immediately protested calmly.

-Said the man who tried to bite a pine cone last week.

-Oh, Trickster, my fangs itched, you know!Sometimes you want to sharpen them on something rough and hard. - the Rook added embarrassingly and awkwardly.

-You did…….WHAT?! - Vil immediately intervened, staring in surprise at his vampire interlocutor.

-The main thing is that I am not included in the number of these items to "sharpen fangs"..

After a little explanation from Vil, it turned out that they both longed to get to one charity concert, which was arranged only for "married couples". A strange condition, but Yuu refused with all their might and tried to escape. Until someone's hand grabbed them by the collar of their shirt…

-Oh, dear postman!Are you leaving already?So fast?

… and did not hold it by inhuman force. Rook….scared the hell out of him sometimes, but he's nice. Sometimes…

-You knooow, I just remembered that I need to deliver another correspondence!! Thank you for your hospitality, it was very nice to tell you!!!And now I have to go..

Yuu quickly started talking and tried to escape unnoticed and twitch on the spot to free themselves.

Rook it was only amusing. Like a small animal trapped and desperately trying to get free.

Seeing the looks of two strong vampires who are part of Crowley's own trust, Yuu quietly and plaintively whined, realizing that they were in terrible trouble.

-Please let me go home…..a cat is waiting for me at home, who will feed him besides me…..

Vampires were extremely amused by the reaction of the little postman to their "modest" request to be their "partner in marriage." And charming requests to let them go because of the cat waiting for them at home.

On the one hand, yes, this is a tempting offer. Two very beautiful vampires, with status, influence and money… Only Yuu was scared to hell that first of all they arranged an "unspoken competition" who would put the ring on Yuu's finger faster. The postman knows damn well that it's better not to mess with "creatures" that compete with each other. Secondly, there was no guarantee that they would really be released later. What if they're really going to announce their engagement?! And how will Yuu be able to explain this to the others?!???

"Oh, excuse me, I've got a wedding ring on my finger here, blown by the wind from an open window pane?"

A stupid and ridiculous excuse that will make few people understand.

Thirdly, Yuu was quite satisfied with their relatively quiet introverted life. And somehow they wanted to go through other stages like flowers or dates.

Fourth, the Yuu were categorically against this attention. So they had to leave work and play the whole show!

It was one of the most stressful evenings in the life of the humble postman Yuu. Fortunately for them, Epel intervened and explained to these two that it was a bad idea to get involved in this poor man. Epel even threatened to bite them both. This is usually not dangerous, but the bite will itch and itch unpleasantly. Poor Epel had to listen to 40 minutes of lectures from Vil that only rabid dogs bite, and he is a noble vampire.

In the end, Yuu had to agree that Yuu would go with the two of them together. And their story will be that "a modest person cannot choose between two handsome men and accepts both of their proposals for more careful consideration of the final decision."

From time to time, Yuu also pretended to be "vampires" while they were "being prepared for the role", which greatly amused and made other vampires laugh who were watching all this.

In short, Yuu was done as in this picture.

-I'm a vampire. raaaaar.~

#twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #twsited wonderland #twst reader #twst au #postman au #twst vil #twst rook #vil shoenheit #rook hunt

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yomogi-mogi-mochi · 2 years ago

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Twst Characters and their Government Assigned Mitski Songs

As a Japanese American lesbian it's my duty to assign these characters their songs from our lord and savior Mitski. Enjoy :)

My masterlist containing stories using some of this analysis is here.

——————————————————

*̩̩̥*̩̩̥ ୨୧ Pomefiore ୨୧ *̩̩̥*̩̩̥

Vil Schoenheit: Brand New City

"If I gave up on being pretty, I wouldn't know how to be alive"

I was stuck between Brand New City and Liquid Smooth- or even Working for the Knife. Honestly the angst potential for this man? Autonomical. I'm thriving.

This line in particular gives my Lush/Liquid Smooth vibes- being at the ripening peak of your youth. Despite the development he does go through during his Overblot arc, I think he does still have this fear of growing old and less desirable, as signified through his reactions when he remains old after escaping from S.T.Y.X.

Especially as someone who is the leader of the Pomefiore dorm- he is seen as the epitome of beauty. I mean it's most of his motivation for doing the things he does, so what happens when he no longer has that asset. Of course, he may remain beautiful on the inside (as Rook mentions), but we're all human- there's a very strong desire in him to stay as he is- hot with smooth red blood and as plump as a ripening fruit. I don't think it makes him any less likeable, I actually think it makes him a lot more realistic to see him this way. I'm sure he'll have a breakdown in his 30s and 40s when his impossibly smoothed skin begins to wrinkle lol

He's forever tethered to prettiness and beauty inside and outside- I don't think he could live with himself if that part of himself withered away.

If you like my analysis of Vil, please consider checking out my Vil x Orpheus MC fic Lasting Spring. It's a Vil x Orpheus Inspired MC, some angst/hurt/comfort, and friends to lovers

Rook Hunt: Pearl Diver

"Those creatures of your working mind, don't fear them or their hunger. Forgive the sea, follow the tide with the monsters on your shoulder. Pearl Diver, dive, dive deeper."

Was between Strawberry Blonde and Pearl Diver, but I felt that Pearl Diver fit him best. He's an aspiring archaeologist, he's a hunter which hops from one shiny thing to another- there's always something that he's chasing for the thrill of the hunt, whether that be uncovering the mysteries of bygone civilizations, or his nimble prey (Leona lol). But this is a ceaseless hunger, a thirst which will never be quenched. And I think partially he knows this- though the adrenaline of chasing down and carving his prey is hollow, it reels him back everytime- never lingering too long on anything.

What better metaphor is there than this shiny pearl, slumbering deep beneath the deep seas that he keeps diving deeper and deeper for? I think partially it's passion but first and foremost it is a youthful hubris, and endless hunger for knowledge that I'm sure many are familiar with during your teens/twenties. I think there will come a time where he dives too deep for his own good- but that won't stop him from plunging back into the ocean to find its beauty once more

I explored this characterization in my Rook x Pygmalion MC fic Pygmalion, check it out. It's got angst, slight enemies to friends to lovers, and a lot of hurt/comfort.

Epel Felmier : Your Best American Girl

"Your mother wouldn't approve how my mother raised me. But now I do, I do."

I think this is one of a handful of Mitski's "hopeful" songs- and one which explores the sociopolitical nuances of love that is rarely explored so beautifully in music (especially because the industry is oversaturated with mediocre white people, cishet white men in particular). But I think for Epel, it signifies a similar journey towards acceptance that is told in his arc

The song it not only touches upon racial differences in dating, but also gender/gender performance (as they often overlap due to cultural differences in gender and gender performance) in its overall message. With a pretty boy who learns to accept that part of himself as an empowering part of his whole- this hopeful line rings wonderfully with his development, as he becomes more comfortable in his background, masculinity, appearance, and strengths.

‧✦‧ Diasmonia ‧✦‧

Malleus Draconia: First Love / Late Spring

And I was so young when I behaved twenty-five; Yet now, I find I've grown into a tall child, and I don't wanna go home yet; Let me walk to the top of the big night sky

Was stuck between this and I Don't Smoke, or Washing Machine Heart. Either way he's a huge softie who's been sheltered his entire life so the experience for his first love for him would be as intense as this song. The lyrics tend to swing between a painful yearning for the love to never end, and a longing for the love to end as quickly to cease how suffocating and choking love can be when you first feel it.

First love is something that almost bursts at your seems when you first experience this. And it's the best feeling in the world, because you just so so full with this buzzing lightness you've never experienced before. But you know it'll end because of course fairy tale endings of true love and love at first sight don't exist, so you're begging it to be as painless as possible. For Malleus, I think this is how he experiences first love- as well as his feelings for his family (Lilia, Sebek, Silver). He knows its not going to last the eternity he is cursed with (which becomes evident with the current chapter when Lilia begins to show signs of age), and he wants so desperately for it to stretch as long as it can- but also to end as quickly as he blinks so the pain doesn't leave a relentless aching.

"Tall child" I think also describes him very well. Of course he is knowledgeable of things but he lacks the wisdom people gain from experience and the stimulus of life and tragedy. He's been numbed partially to being alone, and by sort of distancing himself from the people who project the image of untouchable monster to him, he becomes that very thing.

Much angst potential for this man as well. I love.

If you like my analysis for him, you'll like my Malleus x Light Fae MC Spolia series (*^-^*). It's got a lot of art history knowledge (gothic period), some friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, and yearning idiots.

Lilia Vanrouge: Pink in the Night

"And I know I've kissed you before but, can I try again, try again, try again?"

This song is interpreted as a romantic love song as many of Mitski's song are, but I only think that's because there's a misconception that romantic love = most raw and powerful love, and I absolutely do not agree.

He knows that there is an eternity before and after him that stretches beyond the things he loves. He may not be alive to see Silver grow old (or vise versa), or be able to support Malleus for the rest of his life either.

But unlike Malleus, he's come to terms with it, and adheres to a sort of absurdist school of thought. He values freedom and dynamic movement- he allows himself to tether his life with others, while also valuing his own experiences and opportunities. So I think these lyrics pair well with his acceptance of the nature of his life compared to the people he loves, in addition to his philosophy of living.

If you want to see a romantic interpretation of this analysis however- you'll like my Lilia x Dullahan Beloved Thy Name fic. It's got your standard hurt/comfort, angst, and I might make a sequel.

Silver: Crack Baby

"Crack Baby, you don't know what you want. But you know that you're needing it. Yeah you know that you want it.

I think Silver is one if the most emotionally intelligent characters in Twst, maybe next to maybe Carter. So the knowledge that he's likely going to be the one who will leave everyone else behind is something which is cemented into his desires and anxieties that are revealed to us in Chapter 7.

I think he also sort of knows that there's more to his genetic heritage than what is available to him. And in addition to the nature of the environment that he grew up in that instills this very fixed fate onto him- the lyrics parallel well to the permanent cravings, thinking, and power (ie his unique magic that has strong connections to Aurora plus the necklace Lilia found beside him when he first found Silver) that we're conceived before he really came to be as a person.

He lived in the foods far from the castle, he didn't have to become someone who serves both his father and Malleus- but he chooses to because of his permanent fate. The fact that he will be the one leaving everyone is internalized and delegated to his desires to make himself useful, memorable- something of substance for these other lives that seen much more grander than his own. This is why he breaks in Chapter 7, wanting only to be useful and give something to Lilia- the preconceived nature of his life has lead him towards the painful truth, and there's anxiety that lives within him because of his family. But of course, this is because he loves them.

Sebek Zigvolt: Real Men

"Though honestly sir, all I wanna do is get naked in front of you. So you can look me up and down and give me your love for being so good"

So, the Malleus obsession, right? Yeah I think he would absolutely break down if Malleus were to ever get hurt or overblot on his watch. He absolutely hinges his own self worth and life on this man because A) he's part fae so he has the means to do so and B) I don't think he's had a chance to mature in order to cultivate his individual character enough. He's young.

This is from one of Mitski's earlier albums, Lush, so I think it's safe to say that this song is from the perspective of a younger woman than she is in say albums like Be My Cowboy and Laurel Hell. Women are taught to be obedient, to never be questioning to their superiors (men), to give and give and give. I wonder- where did Sebek learn this then? Perhaps his Fae mother? During his training as a guard? When he yells at people to respect and give themselves whole to Malleus, he's merely protecting that learned sentiment outwards. There was probably some moments in his life where he was being told the same exact thing.

So maybe in chapter 7 after Malleus' overblot, be learns to be "someone", to actually learn what he's giving when he says he'll give his all to Malleus.

*:ﾟ+｡　Scarabia .ﾟ･*..☆

Kalim Al-Asim: Francis Forever

I don't need the world to see that I've been the best I can be, but I don't think I could stand to be where you don't see me

I think these lyrics best describe his relationship to Jamil.

He genuinely thinks the world of Jamil, but he's also naive- before Jamil's overblot, I don't really think it ever occurred to him that Jamil had been downplaying his own abilities, or that he had any resentment in doing so, because he genuinely thinks he and Jamil are friends. He doesn't fully comprehend that there's a certain power dynamic between them because the people around him have been accommodating to him his whole life, leaving him in ignorant bliss. He expects Jamil to cook for him and be his vice dorm leader because there's a master-servant pretext he doesn't quite understand but has been benefiting his whole life from, but in turn, he also doesn't really refuse when Jamil also asks him to help out. Which, in Jamil's perspective, I'm sure was even more frustrating on his end cause it really means he's actually just fucking clueless lol.

But I do think after Jamil's overblot and he does come to terms with his position, he still wants to be friends with him. And with the understanding of his dynamic and his own desires to continue a relationship with Jamil- he is definitely willing to sacrifice his own small victories as long as Jamil and him are able to still be together, side by side.

I think the lyrics speak to a more evolved side of Kalim that was not fully developed before Jamil's overblot, and it adds a bit of that bittersweetness thats in their relationship that actually strengths their bond in the end.

Jamil Viper: Class of 2013

"And I'll leave what I'm chasing for the other girls to pursue"

Has got to be one of my favorite songs cause it's so short yet so poignant like it just shows how talented Mitski is with just some simple notes on the piano and a few lines

Anyways apart from my Mitski obsession, this line in particular narrates the slow extinguishing of one's own desires to save oneself from being continuously hurt from preconceived barriers. For Mitski, I think here she's observing an industry that's dominated by white cishet people- and for Jamil, it would be in relation to the social/emotional obstacles correlated with servitude.

However, these feelings rarely die down. They stratify against the pressure of time, and in Jamil's situation, it presents in the form of anger and resentment towards Kalim.

Every moment of his life, he's had to measure and count each movement so his body molds into the image that is desired from a Master-servant relationship- and that initial warmth of personal desire slowly grows onto a bitter flame that wells quietly inside him, until explodes in the form of his overblot.

Now as a communist yeah go Jamil eat the rich ✊️ but I think Kamil is, as previously explained, genuinely naive about his status and the way Jamil has had to live. So I can't say the overblot is not at all unjustified- but the collateral damage is definitely not a great look.

If you liked my analysis of Jamil, you'll like my Jamil x Shikigami MC Merciful Crusade fic. Slight enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, discussion of trauma, with a happy ending.

✦·.⋆ Ignihyde ⋆.·✦

Idia Shroud: Working for the Knife

I always thought the choice was mine, and I was right but I just chose wrong; I start the day lying and end with the truth that I'm dying for the knife

Within the context of Mitski, this song is interpreted to be working for a thankless, unforgiving industry that is dominated by mediocre cishet white people/men, but I think it more broadly it discusses the concept of creation, and the artist's relationship to it.

And broader themes apply to Idia's relationship with the construction of Ortho, or what I imagined it was like. In Chapter 6, Idia mentions something about the human heart- about how it is just a hindrance in comparison to more objective systems of the world- like programming, or robotics. But I think here he's not only referring to Ortho's condition as an AI (as AIs evolve and feed off of information and systems created and use as humans, Ortho becomes sentient), but more importantly Idia's own betrayal of the heart.

On Idia's terms, Ortho's death and creation cannot be associated with much objective reasoning. The reason why the brothers tried to escape in the first place was because of the human desire for more in their life- Idia wanted partially to escape the burden of becoming the head of the family, and both of the brothers obviously wanted more than to spend their life from the prison that the family curse unfortunately shackles them to. Though these are perfectly healthy desires to have, Idia has blamed himself for risking both him and his brother's life before they had properly assessed the phantom situation, in addition to not being able to stop the security breech that ultimately (in Idia's eyes) lead to the death of his brother. For him, this relapse in judgement is purely because he avoided looking objectively at things (which in it of itself, is a subjective thought which I think he understands more after his overblot)- therefore, I think he's created a system for himself where there is a statistically low chance of him failing in situations he is not confident in- like his appearance or his socialization skills. What better way to avoid social ridicule than to avoid socialization altogether? And by lowering his self image by the start- there is no way others can lower it even further. Shut yourself from the world- and no one can disturb the objective fact that you're a good for nothing loser that got their own brother killed. No one can shatter your own reality.

But it's undeniable that Idia is a sort of prodigy and a genius- so he's constantly switching between extremely high and low self perception that sort of parallels his internal clashing between his objective way of thinking, and his own feelings.

But I think after his overblot, he's started to come to terms with this internal debate, and accept the fact that it's alright to feel things, and love for people and the world while maintaining his structure of thinking (he seems to think in connections, rather linearly- which can lead to a lot of conclusions of self blame and pity, but those systems can also be used in other, more positive ways), and reality is really what you make of it.

So I think this part of the song that indicates a melding between dichotomies- of regret, hurt, and blame- but also hope and desire perfectly describes Idia's personality, as well as his relationship with the world.

I think a lot of people who've had to deal with attachment issues and have late diagnosed autism can relate to this sort of journey. His way of thinking (ie being able to make metaphors between real life and video games- thinking in systems of connections rather than abstractly in isolation/linearly) particularly resonates with myself, an autistic, and I think a lot of late diagnosed autistics who are also burned out gifted kids (especially if you're the eldest sibling lmao) can relate to his way of thinking, especially if you're also intersectional.

Idia is seriously one of my favorite characters. Autistic rizz strikes again lmao

Ortho Shroud: Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart

"So I don't blame you if you want to bury me in your memory, I'm not the girl I ought to be- but maybe when you tell your friends, you can tell them what you saw in me, and not how I turned out to be"

Don't worry I didn't forget about our dear sweet boy.

I'm sure when Ortho (the version we see at NRC) was met with some mixed reactions from his family, including Idia. It doesn't take an AI to see that Idia clearly still blames himself for letting the original Ortho get killed- something the current Ortho no doubt at least takes the blame for, because he's not able to live up to the standards of the original Ortho, and make his brother happy again

In chapter 7, he also mentions to his parents "Thank you for treating me as one of the family", so it sort of implies there that he's probably held some guilt before, since Idia has shut himself from the world, and is very outward about his self hatred.

I think after chapter 6 when Idia is able to come to terms with his guilt and way of seeing things, Ortho is able to also have some closure. Rather than viewing himself solely through his brother's eyes, he's able to see himself as an individual. I think his decision to join the drama club shows the evolution he's gone through.

*♡.* Heartslabyul *.♡*

Riddle Rosehearts: Class of 2013

"Mom will you wash my back? This once, then we can forget"

He's the poster child for mommy issues, come on.

He's obviously been through some traumatic shit with his mom, particularly verbal and emotional abuse that has completely shaped his way of attachment and view of himself and others. He holds himself to a high regard because he sees himself as an extension of his mother's (and the queen's) qualities of high discipline and authority- and he holds his mother to a high regard that in turn puts him in a similar, high position. Without doing so, there's probably no way for him to justify the treatment he's had to go through. By viewing his mother as an absolute authority he looks up to, he's able to somewhat justify the harsh standards he was held at, and holds everyone else to (something he shows regret for doing after his overblot). This is why he lashes out so violently when this notion is challenged by others, because that is also putting his mother's treatment of him in question.

Obviously a lot of the respect he has for his mother is born out of the fear that his mother could just be a bad person, someone who does not love him sufficiently enough to treat him with care and softness- but there is also a kind of fucked up form of love in there. Iykyk lol, especially if you've seen the woman your mother was, or see what she's had to sacrifice for you- the way she held you in her womb through the seasons and the hours she's had to push your small body out of you- there's something that wells inside of you that makes you want to be held, and hugged and told everything is going to be okay by her despite all of the burning hate and resentment for the way she's carved these marks into you thay made you feel and see the world with that weeping blood. Then you see her mother, and think- oh. Right.

When everyone goes away for winter break, Riddle tells Trey that he's going to have a talk with his mother- and I think that shows that for him, not all of that high regard for his mother came from fear, and survival- but also, somewhere, love that had traced all the way from his mother, to his body while he was still in the womb, planted deep inside the darkness that lies between where the fibers of our body meet.

This line in particular is heartbreaking because the speaker is asking her mother to face her back, and wash the filth off of her. An act of love, that you can bare to fully face, because of the pain that person has caused.

Ace Trappola

I have no idea for this one. For him and Deuce (also Jack) it's a bit hard because their position in the game is to kind of be the navigators so he kind of lacks enough material for me to make education assumptions of his psychosocial background. If anyone has any ideas please add them below 🙏🙏

Deuce Spade: I Bet on Losing Dogs

"Will you let me, baby, lose on losing dogs?

I know they're losing and I pay for my place by the ring"

Deuce, again, is also hard to do but I think these are the closest lyrics to what his ultimate intentions are at NRC. He really does want to improve and prove to his mother that he can be a son she can be proud of- but he's consistently trying to fight everyone lol.

He's kind of like Zuko from ATLA lmao. But you can clearly see throughout the game that he feels shame for his past and recent actions of trying to solve problems with his fist, and the efforts he puts into studying and becoming a good student. To him, I'm sure it feels like he's betting on losing dogs- that it is simply within his nature to continue to fuck up.

Unlike the subtext of Mitski's lyrics however, he's betting on those metaphorical dogs because he wants to make his mother proud, rather than placing bets on a losing battle because it makes me feel at least something.

So if you do have better suggestions I'm totally open lol. But this was the only one I could think of (；∀； )

Cater Diamond: Nobody

"And I know no one will save me, I'm just asking for a kiss- give me one good movie kiss and I'll be alright"

When I look at people like Cater, I (not only generally avoid them) but I almost always think "Wow. You're a pretty hard worker. So serious, so frantic." (The word I'm thinking of is 必死 and Google is saying the english translation is "desperate" but thats not quite it.). It does make me want ro break them open a bit- not because I think whats inside is valuable in the slightest, but I'm just curious to what sort of thinks they're working so so hard to hide under all of that "effortlessly likeable" facade that barely veils the attachment issues that runs deeply in their bones. But I wouldn't do that, since it would be too tedious and predictable, haha.

Also probably why he's an easy target for his older sisters to be honest lol.

But I digress. This song at its core is about tethering love solely to the external world (which I think humans can't help but to do and is healthy to a certain extent)- and I think it reflects one of Cater's more hidden issues if mental health and self perception which he uses social media to likely numb.

I think someone on tik tok had a good explanation of this (I forgot their username ( ´Д｀)) but Cater's character shows the lesser known forms of depression/mental health issues where we seek any sort of stimulation (ie love in whatever form, but anyone as long it makes you feel) to battle the numbness and lack of self perception that comes with constantly being under the oppressive pressure of our own psyches.

"Movie kiss" is also language Mitski intentionally uses to emphasize the fact that it doesn't have to be real- it can be a parody of something and completely staged- as long as it provides some sort of stimulation, kind or like social media.

Trey Clover: I Will

"I can at least be neat

Walk out and be seen as clean

And I'll go to work and I'll go to sleep and I'll love the littler things

I'll love some littler things

He definitely has some self blame for Riddle's situation when his mother came to his parents pastry shop. I think it's partially the reason why Trey values a respectable distance between him and others, and also why he undermines his own abilities. He makes a hell or a lot of effort not wanting to stand out in anyone's eyes, because he doesn't want to cause situations like Riddle's- where his position in someone's life results in trouble for them.

He's nice, but he's not necessarily kind, you know? I feel like he spreads himself pretty evenly among people, completing his role within the social spiral so people aren't hurt from his actions or existence.

This line from Mitski kind of shows thay detached nature- he doesn't want to be a bother to anyone so he assumes a sort of detached "mother" position, being generally pretty nurturing and assuming a nice face so he doesn't have to be weighed with that burden of causing trouble for people.

He's pretty normal otherwise 🤷 everyone except Riddle and Cater in the Heartstlabyul dorn is kind of hard to do

I have a Vampire MC fic for him in progress- ill link it when I'm done!

✧*: Savanaclaw ･ﾟ✧

Leona Kingscholar: I Bet on Losing Dogs

"I bet on losing dogs I know they're losing and I pay for my place by the ring Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down I'll be there on their side, I'm losing by their side"

These lyrics are a perfect parallel to his personality and self perception.

He's constantly putting himself in a losing position (ie skipping class, not putting his all into academic and sports related activities) because he's let his placement assigned to him at birth seep into all aspects of his life.

He shows a lot of symptoms of depression/a mood disorder like hypersomnia (opposite of insomnia), low motivation, losing interest in hobbies, etc etc because he's constantly been surrounded by the fact that he is the second son- and will for his whole life live in his brother's shadow all of his life. I think he avoids being with Cheka not only because he doesn't like kids (relatable) but also because it's a constant reminder that a literal child will achieve what he cannot just because of his birthright, rather than a test of power or intelligence. But obviously he's adult enough to recognize that his nephew is a kid and he shouldn't be throwing his own shit at a child.

He has no care for people's opinions of him or measurements of his abilities because he already knows people will always see him as a losing bet, that losing dog- so he leans fully into the achetype.

Ruggie Bucchi: Humpty

"All the eggshells are on the ground, and I try, I'm trying to pick them up, but they crack and crumble, it's all too much- too frail for me to touch"

Gah Ruggie is also kind of a hard one

But I think there's a certain self image that comes with being a hyena beast beastman especially with the associations it has within Scar's narrative. He consistently mentions to Leona that they should both play their parts and benefit from eachother. I think there's a part of him that hinges his self worth on his ability to serve people not only because of his socioeconomic background, but also his species. He's had to walk on these fragile conditions of self worth his whole life, which is why he's continuously shown himself to be extremely resourceful, and quick thinking about the people he surrounds himself with that must work to his benefit. He's a scavenger, he has to make do with whatever he can, even if that is feeding off the (literal and metaphorical) scraps.

Not my best work lol. Please let me know if you have better suggestions.

Jack Howl: Stawberry Blonde

"I love everybody because I love you; I don't need the city, and I don't need proof; All I need, darling is a life in your shape- I picture it, soft, and I ache"

Difficult for him because he's so?? Well adjusted?? Lol like just one of those people you see you're just like "Ah wow you really actually had a happy childhood". Like such a foreign concept to the dorm leader/vice dorm leaders who are screaming, crying, vomiting into the void lmao

I feel like these lyrics were to be the case if he ever were to fall in love? The song itself is about yearning for something you can't get a hold of, but the lyrics in the beginning just cry absolute adoration that he values in relationships because he's seen it in his own family. As a professional yearner I can definitely say this boy yearns for sure.

*+:｡.｡　Octavinelle　｡.｡:+*

Azul Ashengrotto: Nobody

"I've been big and small, and big and small, and big and small again- and still, nobody loves me, still nobody loves me."

Perfect for his overblot narrative lmao.

This one is pretty straight forward, I think Mitski not only narrates the dramatic physical transformations that still make her seeming undesirable- but also the radical changes in personality in ego (as in inflated ego, deflated ego).

This works with Azul's backstory since he not only went through a physical transformation that likely fed into his attachment style and the way he views his self worth, but also the personality changes that reflect the gradual repression of these insecurities that lead to his overblot.

The lyrics also imply that there is a certain condition to being loved that the speaker is not able to fulfil. Now for Azul, I think he's able to fulfil that condition by providing contracts to others- but he internalizes that and uses it to fill the hole that is caved within himself due to a lack of self worth and positive self image. He becomes too power hungry because he's obsessed over these external means of validation to replace any intrinsic value that he has not been able to see within himself.

After his overblot I think he recognizes this dissonance between his external personality and internal insecurity, along with his intentions with others' magics that clearly stemmed from an externalization of his insecurities, and he chooses to accept his insecurities (both physical and mental) as a part of himself. Great redemption arc 🤌

If you like my analysis of him- you'll like my Mute Siren MC x Azul Ineffable Bloom fic. Childhood friends to lovers, lots of yearning, hurt/comfort, and also, flower symbolism/hanakotoba.

Jade Leech

Augh Jade is hard too. I feel like he has a very specific, calculated anger that is not very often in Mitski songs. Her stuff is more like eternally cindering flame- his feels more like a surgical needle.

Any suggestions????

Floyd Leech: A Pearl

"There's a hole that you fill, you fill, you fill. Buts just that I fell in love with a war."

This is a bit dramatic for him but oh well lol. Similarly to Rook, I think he's quick to obsess over things. But unlike Rook who will travel to the oceans depths to get a glimpse of that thing- Floyd is someone who, as soon as he's bored, will just shrug and find another thing that interest him. Partially, I think this is a cycle for him that he continues because of the initial thrill of it- and that goes for his relationships as well. With Azul and obviously Jade he's been with most of his life it's a little different, but for others, say, a romantic partner- I think he would definitely have a tendency to sort of love bomb people before one day he gets bored and begins to pick the person apart. He searches for little ticks he doesn't like, parts of their personality thay he finds annoying- and comes to the conclusion that he's simply done with them. And I think the cycle continues.

——————————————————

Live love laugh Mitski ✌️ I use so much of her lyrics in my writing. There were a lot of characters I had several songs for but I kept it to one per character

★彡 Feel free to add your own interpretations and takes!

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