dummy

monarch of stupidity fae/any

[dummy1001]

˚₊‧ ꒰ ʚ 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘⋮ ᛝ - ꒱ ୨୧ ˖ ࣪

── .✦ dummy/dolly/coppelia

── .✦ fae/any (don't use she/her too much)

── .✦ volatile update schedule. write for what fandom i'm currently obsessed with. this blog is dedicated towards twisted wonderland.

── .✦ NO nsfw, incest, pedophilia, pregnancy, binary-gender reader, character x character

── .✦ each series will have its own tags, and will mostly theme around yandere

── .✦ lots of personal projections and headcanons

── .✦ chronically online

── .✦ MASTERLIST

[merakiui]

the fine line between madness and moray.

yandere!jade leech x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, unethical and dubious science, obsession, scientist/specimen dynamic, descriptions of blood/gore/violence note - beneath a blade's cruel, careful cut, jade leech finds beauty in brutal benevolence. // HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BESTIE @heyyy11 may you enjoy eel vivisection on your special day! :D

The moray eel cannot die. 

Or, rather, it refuses to be killed out of sheer, stubborn cowardice.

Jade is an unorthodox specimen, called such simply because he is a creature living on borrowed time. A creature who cannot confine himself to standard human logic. He is so far beyond it that he’s landed himself in his own separate category. An unknown variable, one who’s impossible to categorize through an objective lens. This requires testing, numerous experiments broaching the hundreds. 

Like you’ve done in years past, you lay him out on the operating table—a cold, metal slab that reflects the harsh glare of blinding lights—and you begin your assessment. When you lean over him, gloves pulled up to your elbows, sick fascination shining in wildly impartial eyes, he thinks of surgical angels and lab-constructed halos. You are not a mythological creature, for your existence is cemented in the reality that is his current iteration, yet he’s spellbound by your cryptic methodology. How many times will he find himself staring up at a clinical sun, his own mismatched gaze met and challenged by a curious creator? How many times will you drag your scalpel along his abdomen, cut him open at the seams, rifle around in his guts?

How many times will he find himself at the verge of life and death—the divide between truth and lie? 

If insanity is, by definition, repetition with the delusional expectancy of new results, then perhaps he is madness personified. Like always, he will find himself at an intersection and his skin will be peeled and pinned, rendered bare for roving eyes. And always, choking on his own blood, a new orifice cracking open like an eye, he’s made so ferociously proud of his scales. They mirror your visage, and he wears the image of you like it’s camouflage. 

You run cool steel along the slick, fleshy pulp of his dermis, and from the precise slice a vicious wound blooms—blood mixing with mucus. You gather the toxic substance, a jarring, radioactive green, in a vial and seal it tight for safekeeping. His eyes, mismatched and strange, follow your movement down to the millisecond. When you blink, he makes note of your lashes sweeping your cheekbones. 

That is how he learns to blink himself. Imitation is, after all, the sincerest form of flattery. 

Jade—the name you’ve given him, its significance foreign to his cerebral functions. He sounds out the syllables as you sleep, hissing through the pronunciation while a tooth—sharper than its predecessor—pushes through his gumline. He runs his tongue along it. All the dangerous points lining his mouth, a lamprey’s maw. When you ask him to show you his pharyngeal jaw, he opens his mouth like an obedient fish doll and beams, wet with pride. He is your finest subject, a precious pet project.

You poke around in his mouth with various dental tools, measuring the length and width of everything. His tongue curls around the handle of the little mirror, and he tastes cold steel. You remind him to keep his tongue down and so he listens for all of three seconds before it’s back to exploring restlessly. His penchant for feigning ignorance is as fascinating as the depths of his intelligence. Later, you’ll unscrew his skull and fish around in his brain, watching every knee-jerk reaction with renewed wonder.

“If I cut off your tongue at the stump,” you tell him, so eerily relaxed, “would it regenerate?”

He communicates with his eyes, a dark olive and a glittering gold. They’re wide and dilated, the rings circling his pupils luminous beneath the lights. He’s excited, viciously so, and his eyes seem to say, Ruin it and we’ll both see. 

You take your scissors and snip it off cleanly. It’s a wriggling piece of muscle, coiling fondly around your fingers. He can still taste with it, and he pulls a face at the latex coating his senses instead of the salt of your bare skin. Blood puddles in his mouth, liquid green and venomous. You’ll continue to break it down to molecular levels in your lab while he lies cradled in waning life. His consciousness will dim and he’ll die looking up at a cheese moon, light dripping and melting into foggy rays. He is still too weak.

Hours or maybe days later, he’ll come to, healed and fixed, his tongue a few centimeters longer than it was before. Stronger. Sturdier. For every wound he endures, his body builds itself in the image of an honored deity. He is cherished in violence, a victim embellished. They’ll call you a heretic because you are meddling with the linear rules of life and death, a terrible, sinful taboo. 

They’ll call Jade a monster because he is abnormal and cannot assign himself to mortal time. But, really, what even is the concept of normality? It is socially constructed, hammered into every human so that they can differentiate the good from the bad. In science, researchers fill themselves with this type of air, and anything that falls outside of the realm of normality is immediately scrutinized and killed in theory, in mystery, in agony—in every conceivable way.

They will never be privy to Jade. He is a genius, insanity crafted from cyclical brutality. He is yours alone.

Today, freshly healed, he swims in his tank—deep and cylindrical, a place of shadow and sanctuary. You toss him fish and they’re thrown back skeletal, skin stripped from bone. He clicks at you, happy and content, reticence locked away in vague ventricles. You’ll cut him open later and he’ll stop you from making it to his heart—that strange organ he cannot understand. Jade is much like yourself. When faced with a problem he’s yet to solve, he becomes obsessed, hacking away at hypotheticals in an effort to arrive at a conclusion or, at the very least, a feasible hypothesis.

That cardiovascular muscle is plump with blood and pain. It hurts to hold you in his eyes and come close to saying it—words he doesn’t fully know. Superficial pleasantries, infinitely human things. He smiles and folds his finned arms over his chest, a corpse poised for an end beneath that special cheese moon. Strangely, for all of his stone-cold trickery, he feels shy. You open him up, peer inside his reproductive organ, and he dies cradled in little death.

Consciousness snaps, but his heart beats on evermore. He’ll wake up later. He always does.

He watches you through thick glass, webbed hands pressed flat. You’re sitting at your desk, fingers flying across your keyboard. Every now and then, you pause to consult diagrams and brain scans. X-rays of his internal structures are pinned to your board. He’s flattered. If he could put you on a wall, separate each organ and bone, build a picture out of you like a puzzle, he would. And you would look on with your eyeballs pinned just above teeth arranged carefully to imitate a human mouth.

“Jade,” you call out and he draws away into the darkness.

One day, you’ll know. One day, your research will lead you to confirm the one thing he’s afraid of. 

One day, you’ll look at him and understand why he cannot die. The crux of his curse lies in a pesky, lively emotion.

Your hands fall still on the keyboard. Reanimated, you rise from your seat and stalk over to the tank.

“Come to the surface for observation,” you speak to the glass. He studies you in the dark, quietly questioning. “There’s something I’d like to confirm.”

He doesn’t have to. In fact, he could disobey and you’d have no choice but to wait until he’s ready to give you the results you’re after. But he craves the warmth of your skin—wants to feel you on levels deeper than where your scalpel can reach. 

So he meets you at the top, inching closer to you in the shallows.

“If I release you,” you’re saying, rolling your slacks up to your knees and stepping onto the platform submerged in ankle-deep saltwater, “will that please you?”

Jade blinks, turning the question over. He finds himself scowling.

That draws an amused chuckle from you. “So you do love it here, huh? I suppose a caged bird knows of nothing else when it cannot fly.”

Love. A term with undefined parameters. 

He chirps his agreement, a perfect imitation of a seabird. As you have concluded, after countless studies, this skill is siren in nature. He could kill you and put on your voice over the phone and no one would know the difference between mimic and original. But something is holding him back. Some strange function in his brain, intrinsically engraved into his being like a scar, is preventing him from acting on predatory whims. Something so weird, in fact, he’d rather subject himself to a dozen death cycles to avoid it.

As a scientist who works in objectivity, you have no room for unsteady variables and conflicting emotions. Love and the like. They are distractions you must snuff.

The simulation for attraction is simple, really. Proximity and social cues. Build the foundation for mutual flirtation, a bond constructed out of the principles of madness. Jade lies on his back in the water, propped up on the platform. The waves lick at his gills. He tracks your figure with his eyes. 

“Is there something you wish to tell me?”

Like everything else, love is a social construction. At the core of it—the inner workings of every animal—biology insists upon procreation to remain extant. Mating and breeding and every other scientific term are too detached from emotion. Humans place pretty labels on it so it sounds flowery. To make love, to be entwined, to halve your soul and stitch it with that of whom you’re most fond. Similarly, the shadows of love are gross and filthy. Obsession and jealousy—emotions unique to human specimens. Love is built as fast as it crumbles, and whether it can be maintained over the course of one life cycle determines whether both individuals can satisfy its parameters.

Jade is unaware of what these parameters entail.

His “love” falls outside of what’s considered humanly normal. Although you wouldn’t mind it. You’re not squeamish.

You’ve puzzled it out rather quickly, far more than he anticipated. And now he knows.

Love. A visceral feeling burrowed deep in his chest, lodged between his lungs.

“Open your mouth.” You step over him and lower to sit on his hips. He doesn’t react, his impulses sluggish with disbelief. Too close. You’re within his orbit, a moon hopelessly tracking after its planet. He could break you like this, but he won’t. He’s a good specimen, after all. “Let me see inside you.”

He parts his lips. Strings of saliva and blood drip from his teeth. He loves so carnally, with every fiber of his being, that it’s killing him slowly. It’s why his body is getting stronger. Indestructible. But how can he protect himself against something rooted inside? If he’s too strong—skin impenetrable—you’ll never read the notes of his heart.

He loves you when you maim him. He loves you when you break his ribs to get to his organs. He loves when you cut into him like a sushi chef. He loves being beneath your blade, subjected to cruel curiosity. He loves when you give him a rare smile and an even rarer laugh. He loves to hear you speak, whether to yourself or to him.

And he’ll continue to die because it’s the only thing he’s capable of. The only thing he understands wholeheartedly. The only thing he can do to cope with this madness.

“I see,” you murmur, your hands cupping his cheeks. You run your thumb along the point of a tooth and smile. And—oh—he wants to sink into the cool depths of his pool and never surface again. You care so intensely for him. He knows this. It’s why you’re always ready to stitch him up whenever he cannot regenerate himself. It’s why you wait for his return so patiently, if not anxiously. “Jade, do you remember the words you told me when you opened your eyes for the first time?”

How could he forget?

“You said it in a language I could not yet parse.”

He blinks up at you. His tongue remains still, even though it’s tempting to take your fingers deeper into his mouth. Choke him so that he doesn’t have to say it. Choke him so he doesn’t have to translate for you. Choke him so he can die and remain suspended in immortality while his physical form heals.

He takes a breath—like learning to live after being dead for so long. As if it was your benevolent hands that bestowed unending life to him, a cowardly moray. As if you’re the energy powering his system.

Jade cannot die. Not right now. Not unless you kill him. He should dig his claws into his chest, rip his heart out, and fade away in front of you. His cowardice is fatal. He is wired for death and yet, at this very second, he cannot die.

Time is precious, and he squanders it by retreating into the void. But the void is cold and refuses to give him that relief. 

“It was a musical phrase,” you prompt, your hand running along his chest. You follow his lateral lines. He has been naked before you so many times, yet this time there is hot tension to your touch. Even if it isn’t true, he wants to soak in the hope. “Can you tell me what it was?”

He speaks it in his language first. It’s less embarrassing that way.

And then, in reaching for his chest, you take hold of his hands. He’s looking into your face now. Kind and sweet, the emotional side you keep hidden away.

The word is true, for you encapsulate it in its entirety. He knows of nothing else.

“‘Hello, world.’”

[dummy1001]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐏, 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐓! 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓! 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓! 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓!

TAGLIST───@celesteelysia, @whatdoesthesenpai, @euphoria-looney, @erosofhobbiton @tsubito, @silverluna3-blog, @mimi0n

thank you all for joining me in this nonsense!

CHAPTER 1: bad luck

"𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝."

prev

yan! twisted wonderland 〖dating sim au〗x gn! reader─if you want to hide a tree, hide it in a forest: that was a saying you abided by strictly after transmigrating into twisted wonderland. to avoid the many death flags from the love interests, you decided to join them, becoming the leader of the 'prefect's fan club!'

as an NPC, you knew it would be inevitable to meet with the monarch of the harem, but you didn't expect it to happen in this way. hell, you would rather have the malleus draconia showing up unannounced in your club's room rather than yuu.

why were you so worried about meeting the seemingly subjection of your adoration in flesh and blood, one might ask? because, NPCs didn't have a single moment with the protagonist. they blended into the background and, at most, would appear as shopkeepers. such a role was considered immortal, in a way, so you weren't anxious about the growing popularity of your brainchild.

if anything, the idea that the love interests would grow dependent on you for intel on yuu was what could help secure the 'unwitting magpie bridge' NPC you presented yourself as.

being alone with yuu spelled a death sentence, for only love interests had scenes like that, for one sole reason: character development. you did not want to get promoted into being the one who died because of the love interests' jealousy. thanks fate very much!

you gulped nervously, eyes darted towards the horrendous cover of the book that you put as a joke. in your defense, you were drunk out of your wits to replicate the lovesick stupor that was described about yuu's effects on others. and the wine was some good stuff too, oh the perks of being rich!

fast thinking, [name]! remember the acting script was given to you by this godforsaken game since your rude awakening! you clasped your hands, a bright smile tugged your lips as your eyes remained shut. you had rook hunt to thank for this mimic of his crazy devotion. one mistake of peeking into his room while giving him the merchandise, and BAM! the wawere was split in half with images of vil and neige. your superficial admiration terribly paled in comparison to his craziness. s an NPC, you knew it would be inevitable before meeting with the monarch of the harem, but you didn't expect it to happen in this way. hell, you would rather have the malleus draconia showing up unannounced in your club's room rather than yuu.

why were you so worried about meeting the seemingly subjection of your adoration in flesh and blood, one might ask? because, NPCs didn't have a single moment with the protagonist. they blended in with the background, and most would appear as shopkeepers. such a role was considered immortal, in a way, so you weren't anxious about the growing popularity of your brainchild.

if anything, the idea that the love interests would grow dependent on you for intel on yuu was what could help secure the 'unwitting magpie bridge' NPC you presented yourself as.

being alone with yuu spelled a death sentence, for only love interests had scenes like that, for one sole reason: character development. you did not want to get promoted into being the one that died because of the interest's jealousy, thanks, thanks fate very much!

you gulped nervously, eyes darted towards the horrendous cover of the book that you put as a joke. in your defense, you were drunk out of your wits to replicate the lovesick stupor that was described about yuu's effects on others. and the wine was some good stuff too, oh the perks of being rich!

fast thinking, [name]! remember the acting script was given to you by this godforsaken game since your rude awakening! you clasped your hands, a bright smile tugged your lips as your eyes remained shut. you had rook hunt to thank for this mimic of his crazy devotion. one mistake of peeking into his room while giving him the merchandise, and BAM! the walls were split in half with images of vil and neige. your superficial admiration terribly paled in comparison to his craziness.

"you have been waititng to meet me!? oh, prefect, i'm your biggest fan!" there were flowers, not roses certainly, blooming in the background as you began to go on a torrent of words. you purposefully darted your eyes away, giving off an impression of shyness (while ignoring the pooling dread in your stomach). it was one of the enigmas that rendered you from truly appreciating yuu: the primal fear that spiked whenever you were near their vicinity.

they were beautiful, that was factual, but there was a heavy rigidity in the way they presented themself, stiff, like a broken doll. lifelessness, that was what you saw when gazing deep into those black eyes that captured the hearts of many, all but you. every inch of your body screamed to run, to get away from the one that donned the skin of a human, but your feet were planted still into the floor below. you pushed the gradual, terrifying realization that you were paralyzed against your will back, replaced by the bravado of a devotee.

"really?" the question caused you to shiver, and you were surprised to see you hadn't tumbled over yet. you knew that look of yuu, an amused expression, as though a monarch laughing at their pitiful court jester.

oh, fuck no!

"because..." they stood up, resting the book on the table nearby and approaching you. your faces were inches apart, clasped hands rested against yuu's chest now. if you were caught in this concerningly intimate position, by just one person, it would be 'GAME OVER' for you. even one insignificant NPC could be the match to the wildfire of rumors swirling around your supposed relationship with the ramshackle's prefect. one of their arms rested above your head as your chin was tilted up to meet their piercing gaze. something about that look made you feel nauseous, as though they could see through the facade you had successfully kept up in front of others, reach through the most vulnerable part of your body.

you loathed that, the loss of control over the situation. what had you done to be tossed into this ridiculous dog-blooded game!? the only sin you had committed was drinking, and that was valid in its own way! before yuu could even continue their vague response, your hands found their strength again and pushed them off roughly onto the ground. disbelief overtook your face, as you bolted before your mind could even comprehend the sheer consequences of your actions.

"meeting cancelled for today!" you explained promptly to your members, whose faces turned crestfallen. bile crawled up on your throat, threatening to taint the evergreen of the courtyard as you wandered aimlessly through the hallway. you wanted to go back to your dorm room and drink until you could feel nothing but the sweet bliss of mindlessness.

your salvation came in the form of epel as you bumped into him on your way back to pomefiore. he was evidently angered, but his face softened upon the sight of your pathetic form.

"how did ya end up like this!? who-?" you immediately covered his loud mouth with your palms, eyes pleaded with him not to continue. he huffed in response, letting go of his pestering as he helped you steady yourself.

"what a crybaby. can't believe i will agree with vil." his words stirred confusion in you, until you felt his hands against the corner of your eyes, tears you didn't know had fallen. that was why you received weird looks from your club members, you realized woefully. however, as an NPC went, no one bothered to ask; they only saw what you wanted them to believe in, a yuu-merchandise distributor, no more, no less. although the mention of your housewarden's name snapped you out of your woes.

vil had been ranting about you....to epel!?

"what did he say about me!? epel, epel, epel!" you furiously shook his shoulders, panic contorted your pretty face. his palms curled into fists; he should not have mentioned that man in front of you. perhaps, to punish you for the absolute spectacle you made out of yourself, fate caused you to miraculously slide off the floor and land headfirst on it.

ouch!

"[name]!?" the worried voice of epel was the last thing you heard before you lost your conciousness, so much for being the president of prefect's fan club.

that was how you ended up in the infirmary, in the most face-losing way ever. you honestly pitied the original owner of this body, considering they were said to be elegant, and there was you, unruly in all aspects.

the bed was quite comfortable, so you decided to stare at the ceiling and thought of backup plans to fall back on, in case the plot needed some pushing in the form of getting you into trouble. frankly, the only image occupying your head right now was throwing the stacks of photos you had of the protagonist and running away. after all, you were rich and insignificant, so vil wouldn't even notice if you vanished from your dorm.

you smothered your head against the pillow, banging onto the mattress with both of your feet and fists. how did yuu even end up in there? where was grim, the feline creature that followed them around? everything felt terribly off about that encounter, as though you had accidentally triggered a glitch that wasn't in the game files.

"ugh... quiet down, pesky flies." you were about to throw the pillow at the source of the voice, sitting up halfheartedly before your eyes scanned the familiar.

oh, c'mon! why did you have to share a space with fucking LEONA KINGSCHOLAR!?

you just wanted some wine. and money. and freedom. that weren't too much, right!?

yuu let out a chuckle upon your grand escape, unknowingly dropping one of the keychains that had a chibi version of them on it. you remained clumsily adorable since their first meeting, though a shame you didn't remember.

but they remembered every single one of the details. gosh, they loved you so much it was almost painful, lying on the ground to take in the way your strength had caught them off guard. they wanted it again, the feeling of being trampled on cruelly, like they weren't a person, but a thing, an object that deserved nothing.

it excited them.

they clutched onto the merchandise tightly, resting it against their lips.

they missed you.

𝐚/𝐮: i kid u not my pc crashed when i was writing epel scene we know its you yuu get your jealous ass out of here and lemme write in peace. sorry for the short chapter i was actively fighting against my pc

[dummy1001]

──꒰✉️꒱ ❞ ‧₊˚ 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

── .✦ DROWN ME! 〖 psychological horror, comedy, romance, crackfic〗

── .✦ START WITH A P, END WITH A T! PREFECT! PREFECT! PREFECT! 〖 psychological horror, comedy, romance, crackfic〗

[dummy1001]

"𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞? 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞."

chap 0

chap 1

[dummy1001]

"𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭!"

chap 0

chap 1

[dummy1001]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐏, 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐓! 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓! 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓! 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓!

PROLONGUE: superficial admiration

"𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭."

yan! twisted wonderland 〖dating sim au〗x gn! reader─if you want to hide a tree, hide it in a forest: that was a saying you abided by strictly after transmigrating into twisted wonderland. to avoid the many death flags from the love interests, you decided to join them, becoming the leader of the 'prefect's fan club!'

next

everyone loved yuu. that word alone barely contained the sheer craziness, the scale of the affection the magicless human garnered during their short stay in NRC.

all, except for you, the leader of 'prefect's fan club'.

let's start from the beginning: you were a painfully average and plain person who tried their best to cope with the world via cheap entertainments. trashy novels, brainless games, you name it.

twisted wonderland was a sore eye, mainly because its graphics were considerably higher than the mindless, ad-bloated games you had on your phone. it was honestly a fun experience: seeing the insane worship the main character received through each chapter.

another than that, its worldbuilding wasn't that bad: the concept of 'overblotting' was well-executed. what put you off tough, was the various 'merry bad endings' you could get by the slightest slip of a mistake.

this game required thinking, something you threw away after a long, busy day. one wrong word, and the 'GAME OVER!' flashed red on the screen.

let's skip through the details of your miserable death, a fitting punishment for being on the phone while crossing the road when the green light hadn't even appeared.

so you woke up in a dorm room of, much to your dread, pomefiore’s. you had transmigrated into a background NPC, serving as one of the students fawning over yuu in some cutscenes you couldn't bother to remember.

one cool thing you found out about this body, though, was that its original owner had a fancy parasol. a majority of pomefiore students hailed from wealthy families, and it seemed you were lucky to land on the body of one such young master.

your luck stopped there when you recalled the setting of the game: one wrong move and you could be executed by the main love interests. you could try to remain low-profile, but you were a pomefiore student: that spelled attention already.

you were gripping your (surprisingly) majestic hair, thinking of a plan to help you survive, until you realized: you were meant to fall in love with yuu, just another NPC with an admiration that couldn't be compared to the utter devotion the real love interests had for them.

of course, since this was an inherently ridiculous setting, why not take it upon yourself to become the leader of the prefect's fan club?

after all, you could make a fortune out of yuu-based merchandises!

and that was how, your brainchild, a.k.a your lifeline, came to be. decorated in the signature pastel purple and wite, you actively organized meetings, prepared stuff such as glowsticks, keychains and even pictures of yuu during classes. sharing the same class with the famous magicless human had many of its perks.

occasionally, you spotted familiar figures, from the starters' duo, ace and deuce, who, at first, came to threaten you due to your intrusion of yuu's privacy, were persuaded almost immediately by a free offer of your merchandise.

"you....how did you take this picture?" ace had inquired when you gave him a sample of yuu's yawning during a history class. of course, it captured their glory perfectly because of your expensive polaroid.

"join the club~! we share our secrets there!" you hummed, spreading the stack of photos you had in your hands, much to both of their surprise.

there was a reason you were made the leader!

however, since the current timeline was still between chapter 2 and chapter 3, you got in trouble with your housewarden a lot for staying up late. after all, at this time, vil had yet to comprehend the greatness of yuu.

"you look absolutely horrendous." he commented, upon catching you sneak into your dorm after a fan meeting. you jolted, attempting pathetically to hide the stack of fan merchandise behind your back. a nervous whislte escaped your o-shaped lips as your eyes darted aside.

"sometimes, i find myself impressed by your self-destructive capability: not sleeping for 3 days straight, napping during flight classes, and breaking your own self-care routine." he added on, as though reading your crimes from a long paper scroll like a judge, and you were on a trial. when you were about to verbalize your protests, his fingers had rested against your lips.

"i do not want to hear another word from your dry lips. clean up and go to bed, now." oh, the absolute nerves! you awaited the day he would come begging to join your club. you wondered what he would purchase first? a photo of yuu, a pen, or a keychain? the options were endless in your club.

although your housewarden and many others from your dorm had yet to be charmed by yuu yet (which was a shame considering how many rich students there were; you could drain their entire pocket), other previous dorms, like heartslaybul and savanaclaw, had been utterly captivated.

which was why one of your favorite pastimes was to blackmail tease the housewarden: riddle rosehearts!

"riddle~!"

"goldfish~!"

that was the combo of double trouble that rivalled ace and deuce's annoying existence. at least with the latter, riddle had a fair chance of discipling them. you and floyd? you bet he would run away from his current spot already. when you and one of the notorious leech twins met face-to-face, coldness intruded into the air. the two of you didn't spare one another; dagger glares clashed against each other. the tension in the cafeteria was so thick that it caused other unfortunate students in the nearest vicinity to gulp. a shared laughter cut through the ice like nothing, as your hands rested onto riddle's shoulders.

"oh, what honor do i have to meet with such an elusive figure?" you gave him a half-assed smile, eyes closed in a mockingly happy expression. despite his mood swings being a danger to the NPCs, he had yet to be captured by yuu yet, so you enjoyed toying with floyd a lot.

(translated: why the fuck do i have to encounter a creep like you!?)

"seems like mx. cuttlefish is intered in goldfish too! you aren't about to eat him, are you~?"

(translated: i know you hoe is NOT genuine)

lightning pratically sparked from the prolonged eye contact, and it wasn't until riddle bravely complained about you two that you stopped. you huffed, cheeks puffed in annoyance, before leaving for your table. you couldn't take floyd down, at least not in a physical fight. the tables would turn when yuu happened; you were sure of it!

last but not least, epel femier. the first year was so amusingly adorable, and what was that? always inquiring about yuu! oh, the sweet taste of puppy love that would soon be twisted into a consuming obsession: you were delighted not to partake in any of that.

he was so short compared to your body; each greeting hug would ended up in him being smothered by your chest. the beauty didn't hide his envy of your taller and presumably stronger frame, pushing you out in petty anger. you knew this, as his story was the one more focused on during chapter 5.

"i don't understand yer obsession with that magicless human." he piped up, in that dialect of his when you scooted next to him in the cafeteria. your cheeks puffed from the anger of being utterly defeated, something he probably didn't notice due to the lack of comments.

"how could i not!" you gasped, as though offended by his words. "did you not see their marvelous obsidian eyes? the twinkles that could shame the brightest stars in the sky? their laughs radiated the warmth of the sun itself!"

as you continued the passionate lectures of your admiration for the prefect, clasped hands with eyes closed in reminiscence, you failed to notice how epel became increasingly interested in his lunch, or how a spark of annoyance flashed through his eyes so slightly. he knew, though, that even if you had noticed it, you would just chuck down to him throwing a tantrum of his seniors' eccentricity again.

you were so frustratingly oblivious.

that was how an usual day in NRC went for you: hoarding money from NPCs, sleeping during classes, getting scolded by vil, and most importantly, organizing meetings!

it was supposed to be another mundane day, as you headed towards the empty storage that crowley had allowed you to use. a stack of money was in your hands, index finger flipped through each of them to count meticulously, a satisfied cat-like smile tugged your lips.

supposed, because when you opened the door, the figure you didn't expect to encounter as of now the most, was there.

the main character, the empty vessel the players controlled: yuu.

they were sitting on a chair, eyes reading a book that you recognized, with a horrified thought, the fanfic you had written of them to prove your dedication.

it was meant to be something like 'hah, i know yuu most than you! follow my lead!', and even during your hazes, motivated by alcoholism, you wouldn't dare to fathom the fact that the protagonist would be reading that with a concerning fixation.

they tilted their head back in boredom, deep eyes lit up at the sight of you. gosh, they were beautiful, but not in the way vil was. it reminded you of those polished porcelain dolls your father used to collect, sitting obediently in their respective cupboards. those eyes, as though painted in by a deity above, scanned your figure.

"i've been dying to meet you." they rested the book on their lips, no doubt hiding their growing smile.

SOS!

𝐚/𝐮: welcome to another one of my madness. okay jokes aside this was inspired by twisted hearts and this one fanfic

[dummy1001]

⋆˚.༄ 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐌𝐄!

CHAPTER 1: royally fucked

"𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮."

yan! twisted wonderland au x gn! reader ─ since the previous episode, you went to meet with riddle rosehearts for the first time. the realization that your survival would be fucked up by the arrival of yuu wasn't comforting in the slightest.

"my dearest riddle, do you think anyone would be capable of loving you? especially the sweet, innocent yuu? oh sweetie, let me remind you of our unbreakable bond that's existed ever since our fates were etched in the stars!"

the original villain was a crazy admirer of riddle; it was a slow realization that graced your mind while you were in the carriage to the rosehearts manor, which temporarily lifted the boredom fogging your brain. for a brief moment, though, the news didn't come off as a shock to you. please, this was a dating simulator with its focal point being the obsessive and possessive love; it wasn't surprising to see side characters also going into that route.

your dull eyes landed on the hands resting on your thighs, musing at their smallness, and how, when years passed, they would be stained with bloodshed. these same hands had almost crushed riddle's neck, which guided the sword of truth straight into the heart of malleus, molding the world to their desire until there was nothing left of them but a torn torso.

a chuckle of amusement escaped your lips at the morbidity of the situation. you were supposed to feel something when the image of your death replayed clearly inside your head. you could almost feel it, the metallic odor mixed with pechitror as you were left humiliated on the floor.

one of your hands trailed up to twirl around your hair while you began to plan your glorious future. of course, you wouldn't stop being evil magically after having an epiphany. that would be so mundane, to be stripped of your individuality and turned into a goody-two-shoes for the sake of survival. perhaps that was why yuu failed in their attempts to redeem the original counterpart, because their heart was engraved with a wickedness that had become their life source.

you had no plan to 'steal' any love interests, knowing their yandere tendencies would be disruptive to their self-indulgent life of wine and gold. yuu could saddle themselves with several annoying flesh bags, while they would be on the side, surrounded by the loyal servitors and the decadence of desserts.

you could become a helping hand to riddle, allowing him to approach yuu more easily, but that meant putting a target on your back for other love interests. sure, you were an elusive figure in noble society, but that wouldn't stop the deadly schemes of other equally powerful people.

not to mention the biggest issue of this game that could threaten to jeopardize your lazy life, malleus draconia. there was a reason why the original counterpart was allowed to use others as a means to an end, to effectively kill the walking fear of humanity.

one rejection and BAM! whole world would be covered in thorns that lured people into the sweet embrace of dreams, where every one of their desires was fulfilled.

and you, the one who preferred to live in reality and enjoyed the fruits of the effort they spent, loathed that scenario. this was a hard battle to partake in, because your destiny didn't entirely belong to you. it belonged to whoever yuu would choose as their life partner.

every option sounded like absolute bullshit to you; your best gambit would be to drag every single love interest away from yuu and leave them alone with malleus. and that was impossible, considering the bloated amount of them, and what power did you have to prevent the mysterious ways fate worked?

if only you could prevent yuu from coming here…

that was another thought to consider.

for now, you had to ensure you were, at the very least, in the rosehearts' good side. you had no intention of acting all dainty and kind with riddle, in front of his parents maybe, but certainly not to the degree the main character showered him with.

all these digital people, destinies written by grubby hands of capitalism, weren't worthy of your love. they were only worthy of salvation, one that could be granted if they listened to you.

this was why you were determined to keep a good distance from riddle, not exactly friends, but certainly business partners to work with in the future. after all, his parents' marriage was one such prime example; it would be no big deal for him.

his fantasies of true love? oh well, you would have to let them disappear over time with the correct push. you could try matchmaking him with another person, but considering your character, your pursuit of becoming a cupid would end badly.

the carriage came to a halt right after you hummed to yourself about your marvelous mind. you hopped out without any assistance, barely sparing the guards a glance as you glanced at the towering gates.

a certain coldness oozed out from them, already signalling the caged atmosphere that would bite you in the throat the moment you entered.

the appearance of your father was nothing short of casual, a few fix-ups to his hair before whistling and offering a hand to you, at which you scoffed. the notion of receiving this man's affection was far more ridiculous than the things you had to do to ensure your flourishing survival.

the gates opened shortly afterwards, with two lines of maids and servants greeting you politely. your eyes observed your surroundings, mentally noting down the neatly trimmed rose bushes and the checkered patterns that seemed to accompany the signature red of the rosehearts household.

passing by the fountain, you were allowed entry into the manor, which was no larger than yours, and like your expectations, the air was heavy.

your father wasted no time in flattering mrs, rosehearts, much to your dismay, as your eyes landed on the figure you had been thinking of.

little riddle rosehearts, why so small even?

you bit your lips, covering your mouth with one of your hands to prevent the upcoming onslaught of snorting at the tiny height of the red-haired boy. his mother had insisted on him growing up on a healthy diet, and yet, he was even shorter than you, who was considered short by medical standards.

"greetings, i am riddle rosehearts. it is a pleasure to meet you, lord [name] von sommerstern" riddle performed a deliberate bow, carrying a trained rigidity unexpected from that of a child. someone did his homeworks flawlessly. you stopped your laughter to mimic his gesture while introducing yourself. such a status meant nothing in this world, where magic determined your powers.

this was another predicament of yours, a backdrop of this game's setting: the original you bore no magic. it was a well-kept secret that even the intels from the abyssal depths of the coral sea couldn't find out about. that was another reason behind your thirst for power, to prove that a magicless person like you could still pull the strings, forcing others into doing all the dirty work. in a way, you served as a foil to yuu, who was also magicless. but instead of going down a villainous path, they utilized the power of love, which was said to be the greatest of all. that might be a useful piece of information, but you were more focused on being prim and proper before mrs. rosehearts.

speaking of the devil, she took an instant liking to you, from your polished smile to the deferential bow. everything was flawless in her eyes, and you could almost imagine the fury she would unleash on the world were she to find out about your little secret.

you bit back a laugh.

your father, being himself again, suggested for the two of you get to know each other better, while he would have a business talk with mrs. rosehearts. he winked at your departure, as though to ensure his utter seriousness this time.

you wished your mother were still alive. but then again, she also chose your father as her spouse. maybe the lack of brain cells was hereditary.

that was how you found yourself in the vast wonderland maze of the roseheart' manor. unlike your dukedom, the garden took up much more space, and carried a more vital meaning to their name, hence the careful way each gardener worked. you wondered through the grasses in silence with riddle, who hadn't uttered a word since the introduction. you couldn't blame him for not being talkative, since if your memories served you correctly, it had only been recently that his mother forbade him from social contact with anyone outside the manor.

however, for the sake of both of the futures, (you were going to drag him in this regardless; he was your fiancé), you couldn't prolong the quietness.

"what's your favorite pastime activity?" a smile tugged your lips as you lay on the grass underneath the parasol a helpful servant had set up. you basked in the shade lazily like a cat, eyes closed shut as you turned to riddle's side with an expectant gaze.

"..why would you ask me that?" others might take him as standoffish, but you instantly picked up on the slight nervousness in his voice. it was unbelievable that this was a time bomb, awaiting a spark to set it ablaze. you quirked your eyebrows, resting your head on your clasped hands.

"we are engaged, aren't we? as future spouses, it's normal for us to know each other more!" you chirped sweetly, [eye's color] eyes twinkled with a real sense of joy. it was, at the very least, convincing to riddle, who gripped his book more tightly. you knew how to take advantage of the lighting and how it would accentuate your deceptively innocent appearance. a kid was still a kid, and riddle was no exception to that, no matter how mature he was.

"you are correct, my apologies. my favorite pastime activity would be..." he hesitated for a while, causing you to trace circles on the evergreen of the ground.

"....studying." mrs. rosehearts needed to go; that was your final decree as you heard the answer.

"really? how interesting!" you responded, noticing the way his face stiffened. establishing a distance was great in this scenario, let him believe that you were unable to comprehend his misery, let him feel alone, and let that fester into something that helped you two remain as business partners. one of the most critical mistakes the main characters usually made in other novels you skimmed through was their pity for the love interests' tragic backstories. due to their position as readers, they automatically understood them, which caused the storyline to derail swiftly.

allow him the privilege to think you were just like any other noble, just a mere fiance that would marry him as a means to an end. after all, it was for the greater good, a union of convenience that he had learnt from his parents. maybe when he grew older, you would pretend to be more empathetic towards him, so that would disrupt the supposed events leading to him meeting yuu. it was all according to the plan, pushing and pulling, like a yo-yo.

"i wish to be as hardworking as you!" another lie, as though your obedience towards tutors was nothing. riddle seemed to be a bit less stiff now, drinking in the praise directed at him. but it would never satisfy him; you knew it so clearly: his longing to be seen as a genuine person beneath all those strict rules imposed on him.

that was yuu's job, not yours, obviously!

the rest of the day was spent in total boredom, as riddle mostly spoke of politics and the history of his bloodline.

apparently, he also carried royalty in his blood, but it had been generations since a crown had rested on their heads. you were quite jealous of him, to carry some semblance of power even since birth. unfortunately for you, you were the descendant of some court jester who lived in an ancient prince's shadow.

there was no use dwelling on the past, as you took a stroll around the garden, wandering through a complex path system with riddle as your guide. he took the lead, unsurprisingly, in helping you get to know your future house better.

your hands rested unconsciously on his shoulders when your head turned around, indifferent to the extreme ways the servants were forced to preserve the plants. you were supposed to take pride in how much easier your maids had it when you remembered the usual tantrums you threw there and then

your train of wicked thoughts, of having a maid accompany you next time, to see how lenient she was under your reign, prevented you from noticing the ever-growing blush on the boy's face. frankly, even if you had paid attention to that detail you deemed insignificant, you would merely glance at him coldly.

after all, he acted more like a resting stool for you, and certainly did remind you of one!

when it was time for your departure, with your father rudely (!) dragging you back by the arms, you bid your farewell to riddle, with that same bow. you had made a good first impression on him; you knew it. although seeing the way his face slightly dampened when you told him you had to leave set off an alarm in you.

curse stupid game's setting! you had to make sure to weed out those seeds of affection at the next meeting! had it not been for your sharp awareness that this was your reality and you were living in it, you would have brushed off his oddity as childhood flutters; that the love interests were hard-wired to love yuu only. however, it was best to take precautions, and you had no interest in gaining a friend as dangerous as riddle.

the carriage rolled its wheels as your head rested against the glass window. your eyes were glued shut onto the moving ground, hands folded neatly against your thighs. a sigh of boredom escaped your lips again, as the previous issue had yet to be solved. how could you survive in the future when there were multiple walking time bombs? your mind drifted to the realm of memories, searching every crook and cranny for that loophole. the game opened up with the scene of yuu being transported into the book by grim, and theoretically, you could get rid of that feline creature to prevent the arrival of the main character. however, grim was a fragment of the book itself, born from the desperation to grant its miserable characters a better life. as though a lightbulb was turned on in your head as you promptly straightened up.

you could try improving these love interests via therapy!

but that fell onto another problem: stealing yuu's destiny partially, although you wouldn't classify them as a therapist, considering such a job required strict professionalism.

which also meant you could open up a therapeutic service in the future as an anonymous sponsor, and search for people with solid knowledge in said fields!

how could you ensure the possibility of every love interest successfuly go to therapy then? another issue emerged. you could use your influence to expand the advertisement, but that would make it too obvious.

kidnap them? only a fool would do that! you were a bore, not a maniac.

your fingers curled around your hair, threatening to pull it out without the presence of your father.

you were absolutely, royally, utterly, completely, totally, and entirely FUCKED!

𝐚/𝐮: this is my way of venting after realizing how horrendous the worldbuilding is. we, yes, WE are so FUCKED!!!!! also slow burn cuz duh. also tysm for the support of this nonsensical story.

[dummy1001]

⋆˚.༄ 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐌𝐄!

PROLONGUE: born wicked

"𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧?"

yan! twisted wonderland au x gn! reader ─ maybe science was right; it was not recommendable for a human being not to sleep for a whole week straight just to glue their eyes on some near-EOS otome game. oh well, you were luckier than most to be born into a noble household, albeit the horrendous fate that threatened to blow your brain into mush.

next

one key thing to know about you: you were weird.

this was not said without concrete proof. everyone, even the most uneducated commoners, knew how eccentric the sole heir to the von sommerstern bloodline was.

in contrast to the major belief that you were a rebellious child who couldn't be disciplined, your academic performance was surprisingly great, far surpassing your fellow eight-year-old peers.

that was where the oddity of your existence began, or rather, was displayed more clearly, the same intelligence that garnered you praises from fastidious tutors.

your hands seemed to never stay still, managing to grapple with things that were meant to be far out of your reach.

there was one time, when you somehow slipped into the kitchen, seemingly marvelling at the cooking of the maids. when they were done with preparing elevenses, they were shocked to find out that a baking soda pack and a whole bottle of vinegar had vanished from the shelves.

safe to say, everyone knew promptly where to look, and when they arrived in your room, the sight was nothing short of bewilderment to them.

there you were, sitting on the floor with those same eyes that bore a certain detachment to the world, watching in extreme boredom as your doll vomited white liquid from its lips.

when you were questioned, you answered, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"i'm turning my doll into a volcano."

your father, after hearing this from the servants, had let out a boisterous laugh in amusement.

speaking of him, the man who had partially contributed to your existence, as you put it, the earliest memories you had of him were how he allowed your nonscenecial whims to run wild. from disrespecting an antique portrait of your great-ancestors, to acting like a lifeless doll on a balcony (which terrified the guests), there was nothing that could anger him.

well, except for outright insulting your late mother, but had half of a mind not to do so.

mind, not empathy.

additionally, in that soft voice which always carried a tone of apathy, you spoke of the strangest things no child at that age could fathom.

it wasn't delusional like wishing to be in a fairytale; it was worse than that, or at the very least, according to the prim and proper maids who knew nothing but obedience and salary.

your first reaction, upon witnessing a flying carriage land in the front yard of your mansion, wasn't of awe or surprise. instead, it was uttered in a jaded timbre.

"airplanes could do that, no need for applause."

"young master, what is an airplane?"

"do i look like i know?"

the maid didn't respond, fearing the way your eyebrows rose, as though questioning her curiosity.

in that household, the only one permitted to be curious, to be both smart and yet terrifyingly lacking in emotional affairs, was you and you alone.

"father, have you heard of [country's name]?"

"is that another one of your novel's locations?" the porcelain teacup was promptly thrown at him, and unsurprisingly, he caught it effortlessly. you didn't seem guilty about it, instantly returning to the book you were holding, with a gentleness reserved for non-sentient objects, not the people around you.

you were violent, quick to resort to physical acts when things weren't going your way. hidden by that small frame was an unexpected sheer strength, enough to be able to knock down servants in your tantrums.

it wasn't like you were dumb enough not to be aware of your notorious reputation; you were different from others, and you thrived off it.

you knew your father wouldn't forbid you, the servants too meek to stop you, toys unable to cry out in pain during the torturous sessions you put them through. all in the name of entertainment, of trying to find what could elicit an honest feeling from you.

you were a weird child, and that would continue, even after regaining the memories of your past life.

it was an embarrassing memory to dwell on, but an essential milestone nonetheless.

dull eyes watched as orange and gold spilled onto the blue canvas of the sky, marking the end of another repetitive day. that shadow stretched across the grass didn't move, even when utterances of its name rang from afar. inside its palms was a broken shard of a door's mirror, something the clumsy new recruit had failed to fetch. its eyes gazed at the reflection, seeing someone that wasn't a shadow.

'i shouldn't head home.' it, or rather, you hummed in your throat when you sat up. you squeezed your hand tight and watched as red tainted the neatly trimmed green cushioning your legs. there was supposed to be pain, a grimace should have appeared on your face, akin to that maid when a shard accidentally cut through her fingers. and yet, you felt nothing, other than your muscles prevented you from going farther.

this mind, wanted to die, something the body vehemently opposed.

or maybe you were a coward, unable to let go of the biological instincts that chained you to this world.

maybe this body never belonged to you; fate had its weird way of tormenting even the most indifferent souls. you wouldn't grant it satisfaction, letting out a cheerful chuckle as you released the blood-stained shard. your tongue flickered out to lick the wound, disgusted at the iron taste flooding your taste buds. you recalled tomes, collecting dust in the library, that detailed how honey faes' blood tasted, or how beastpeople tasted spicier than normal. you envied them, truly, for their magical capabilities and how they could enjoy the taste of their blood were they to bleed.

embarrassingly, as though loathing you for being unaffected by the surroundings, fate decided to twirl one of its strings on the vast fabric of life.

and made you fucking trip.

over nothing.

at the moment, memories of your past life flooded in like a broken dam, and they were as stupid as the way you regained them.

you weren't always the apathetic person you presented yourself as in your current life. that would be a wrong notion to take in, without adding that you masked your eccentricity better.

a hypocrite, that word alone summarized your fleeting existence. you were too indifferent to care about others, and yet, too prideful to be looked down on. you loved yourself for not entertaining yourself with trivial matters, like video games, and yet, the competitiveness baked in your blood forced you to always be on the top leaderboard.

you never skipped classes, perfect attendance, decent social circle, but you would rather eat a lightbulb than proclaim your supposed liking towards other human beings,

who could blame you for being such a fake bitch, really?

moreover, there was a more important realization you acquired.

this was no unfamiliar, outlandish universe you were reborn in.

no, this was the world of 'lost in my favorite novel: let's change the genre!'

it was a dating simulator where the main character, yuu, fell asleep after finishing the tragic novel they were reading.

true to its position as the stone to kick off the plot, that original novel was nothing short of... dog blood!

unnecessary angst, prolonged miscommunications, out-of-nowhere plot twists, this novel truly encompassed the worst of mankind in the tragedy genre.

what angered yuu the most was the terribly sad ending their favorite character, malleus had to endure: being slain by the one he considered his brother because of the political manipulation from the humans' side. even worse, the faes were also pushed to extinction after the death of their leader, framing the humans as some sort of saviors reclaiming their lands.

so when yuu found themself becoming a side-character in the novel, with a weird creature named grim, who was revealed to be a fragment of the book's own mind that desperately wished for a rewrite, the duo went around to.....change genre.

pray tell, why was all of that interesting premise thrown aside in favour of the poorly underdeveloped and rushed romance?????

the game's strong point was literally about wooing these tragic figures. how did they fumble that badly in the writing room? did the writers collectively snort cocaine? did they agree to remove their brains for this story?

it was more disappointing because you were slightly interested after seeing a writer, whose creations had been critically acclaimed, in the credits.

damn capitalism and its favor of quantity over quality!

that was also why you decided to speedrun the game, collecting all the merry bad endings before it was EOS.

well, not sleeping for a week straight resulted in your death, pathetically. that was how you came to know those modern terms, your country's name, airplanes: it was a huge sense of deja vu, reminding you of what you truly were.

anyways, what was your role in this god-forsaken game?

the big bad villain.

hailing from a prestigious bloodline, the original you had been spoiled rotten, leading to a total moral decay. they treated everyone badly, in classic villain's style, manipulating the love interests into turning against each other for their own joy.

it was they who were responsible for the death of malleus, and in the end, they died at his hands: head smashed against the cobblestone that led to the entrance of the thorn-ridden castle.

come to think of it, weren't you practically the same as them during childhood? the only difference was that you hadn't touched any major figures.

yet.

when you arrived back at the mansion, equipped with knowledge of the impending doom, you weren't surprised when you heard of your father's summons to his office.

when he held that letter, with a rose encrusted on it, you already knew the words that would spill out from his lips.

the dire engagement with the son of the duke, riddle rosehearts. this was how riddle grew up to be a tyrant; he was always bullied by the original you, which fed into his desire for control, for discipline, something always present during his life, but didn't belong to him.

"it pains me to see their shamelessness, little brat." your father chuckled, tossing the letter into his fireplace after reading it. you didn't respond, clasping your hands as your dull eyes scanned his office room. 'little brat', a nickname he gave you upon the many troubles you had caused. despite his words, you had already know his answer.

yes.

according to the novel, or the game itself, the reason why grand duke von sommerstern accepted the proposal,

for the blissfully unaware rosehearts family, they had secured a connection to one of the most powerful households of twisted wonderland, and a collasal fortune.

for your family though, it meant you got another toy to play with.

"try not to break him, or else you will cost me this house." he laughed coldly.

his warmth was only reserved for your mother, after all.

perhaps that was why the original you was such a heartless person; how could one be capable of love, when the sole form they experienced it, was an eternal frigidity.

"yes, father!" you chirped delightfully. tomorrow, he would come to visit, a perfect chance for you to try changing the ridiculous ending your future self had.

𝐚/𝐮: press f for riddle chat. anyways this will be a fairly unserious series bc its just like poorly written yanderes got an upgrade and their 2-faced darling that lowk treats everyone like SHIT. yes the title is a song name go listen to it