#unlovcd

[ ♢ ]  SEND 💗 TO FORCESHIP  IF YOU’RE OPEN TO A POTENTIAL SHIP.   ||   ACCEPTING

i’m scared that shipping with you may get my blog marked as nsfw too but i’m willing to take such risks in life : (  on the one condition vincent signs a binding contract stating he’ll be Good at least 35% of the time,  and if he ever goes below that threshold rest assured i’m calling the cops immediately

╰ *･ﾟ     meme.   /     send my muse kisses: ♆ for a kiss where there is a pulse.    *･ﾟ╯

                    IF BREAK COULD FIND IT WITHIN HIMSELF TO COMPLIMENT VINCENT, he’d call his ability to make the hatter’s skin crawl almost instantly impressive. there’s something about him that’s always been wrong. nothing obvious, no. nothing anyone would’ve noticed if they hadn’t been paying as much attention as break. a crooked smile that’s just a little too wide to be real, empty eyes hidden by a pretty face, it’s all subtle, small details you could overlook easily. xerxes beak, however, never did.

                   (  there’s a small voice in the back of his head saying, that’s because you’re so similar. you recognize the broken smile because it’s yours, you realize the emptiness because you felt the same thing, once upon a time. but he ignores it, for now ——  that’s a realization for another day.  )

                    now, there’s a different reason for the significant amount of disgust making its way up break’s stomach, clinging to his throat. he doesn’t remember what they were talking about just a second ago, and that fact alone is enough to make him feel ashamed. is it really that easy for the other to distract him, to catch him off guard? he shouldn’t be freezing the way he does, but when the rat’s lips find their way to his wrist, the spot where his pulse is easily detectable through the pale skin, he can’t help it.

                    there’s a rush of emotions, and none of them are to break’s liking. suddenly, he feels protective of the life he’s so willing to throw away. that touch feels like a threat, not only to him, but everyone he’s close to: somehow, in any and every situation that goes like this, vincent manages to make break want to live purely out of spite. if he’s going to die, then it’s not going to be by the hands of this man. if he’s going to die, he won’t do it before he killed vincent nightray with his own two hands. he tears his arm away, lets it disappear into the safety of his sleeve, and makes a noise that’s between a hack and a hiss.

                 fading too quickly --- blackness creeped around her blurring vision, but a glare locked onto vincent to hide the unbridled   fear   that ran rampant in her chest. all she could smell was her own blood --- all she could taste was her own blood in the back of her throat --- all she could feel was her fingers frantically scrabbling against the cold stone floor in puddles of her own blood ---

                vanessa gasped in   agony   as vincent cruelly dug his heel into her stomach. she grit her teeth, practically feeling her molars crack under the pressure of her jaw, to hold back a pitiful cry of pain. even under the foot of the devil, she would not show weakness. even if she was slowly dying, toyed around with like one of his stuffed animals, vanessa refused to grant him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply terrified she was.

                                 just kill her already.

                    Unseen forces were at work on this particular night to allow the dead to return amongst the living, and Vanessa found it all quite surreal. Delicate fingers kept absently brushing her now in-tact throat, remembering the instantaneous demise she suffered at the hands of her dear little brother. But she had forgiven him long ago, when the world turned black. Never could she ever hold any kind of hatred towards Elliot and after she was filled in on the true proceedings after her death, only sadness settled in the pit of her stomach like a dead-weight.

                                       Under a string of twinkling lights, she conversed with Ernest, her fingers still tentatively rested upon the soft flesh of her porcelain throat, as if her head might be sliced off again. Or maybe it still felt a bit odd, to be drawing in breaths again. Nevertheless, though, grief didn't cling to her heart. The atmosphere and the fortunate consequence that granted her and her family a night of rebirth invited a sense of warmth inside of her chest.

                                      And as the stars would have it, while Vanessa listened to what her brother was saying, finding the sound of his charismatic voice even more lovely and calming than in life, she let her gaze drift around the Baskerville ballroom--- looking for familiar faces. Then her azure eyes settled up the sight of hair like molten gold, and she excused herself one moment from the conversation, and was quick on her feet to get a better look.  ❝ Vincent?  ❞

THERE WAS AN OMAKE OF THAT??

the words don't hurt as they perhaps should ; fai has long since stopped bleeding when stabbed by the truth . if anything , it's almost a relief to hear it from an external source for once . fai has never wanted -- and nor was he offered -- petty consolations , but neither has anyone dared to speak the truth as he knows it .

he has no right to a happy life after what he's done .

still , fai can only react in the way he always has .

he smiles .

" don't worry . i'm going to make it right . "