More fanart updates and yet more procrastinating on doing my Coraline AU. I will do it dont worry 😄. I was listening to a video the other day that had Lilium playing in the background and it reminded me of when I first watched Elfen Lied, which led to it inspiring this. I have learned one thing from this though, i dont like drawing blood and I dont like drawing hands 😆 so many hands. Hope you guys like it.
a/n: This was actually day 4 but eh whatever. This was a recurrent thought of mine on which I wanted to work for a long time so thanks again, inktober! (I think it’ll actually be December and I won’t even have finished publishing this but what can I say, I like slow burns ;)) Haha I’m interested in hearing your thoughts, it looks like all my works are so freaking weird so I don’t know what to say ^^
**
Arthur woke up on the blue carpet of his room. He stretched his muscles while slowly blinking as he sensed the first rays of sunshine. Arthur stumbled towards the bathroom, careful of not waking up his parents. He studied the figure before him: his messy hair seemed to have been combed differently, and when he grasped it with a hand, Arthur became aware it had been gelled. He was also wearing a black shirt with an abstract picture, along with tight jeans which Arthur couldn’t fathom if they had been strapped before.
When he stepped into his bedroom again, Arthur noticed his phone on the floor. He grabbed it, unlocked the screen and stared at the images. There was Gilbert Beilschmidt dying his hair at a pool house while smoke covered most of the scenery. The next photo featured Ivan Braginsky, the captain of the football team, flexing his muscles as he seemed to be drinking vodka. On the next picture, Arthur could see himself, smoking a fag while putting an arm over Francis Bonnefoy, as they laughed at something like their lives depended on it.
More pictures stood in his gallery as messages drowned his phone. Braginsky was inviting him to a party next Thursday, Antonio Carriedo had tagged him on a picture of the party, and Michelle, a girl on his French class, was offering to give him tutoring if he’d ever need one.
Arthur gasped, and bit his lip in incredulity. This was his life, wasn’t it? He looked at Antonio’s picture and saw himself with a sly smirk looking at the camera. Arthur noticed he hadn’t seen himself look so bloody handsome in his whole life.
But soon the revitalizing sensation was over, and Arthur felt a sharp twitch of pain in his chest as he noticed his nose was bleeding. He quickly grabbed tissues, and when he looked at himself in the mirror again Arthur realised just how tired he looked, and how the bags under his eyes had finally turned purple after all.
Arthur walked to his desk while breathing heavily: his breath was contracting, and his handwriting was surely messier than usual, but nevertheless, he took his notebook and started the letter.
This needs to end soon.
Arthur waited, perhaps seconds, maybe a couple of minutes, until he felt his pen being grabbed and he started writing again.
I don’t understand you. The night was top.
Arthur snorted at the slang, although his pumping heart told him the situation overall wasn’t funny. Arthur attempted to continue with his point and started to write something.
My ribcage is hurting. My head is numb too, and I’m exhausted. I don’t think I can do it anymore.
A pause. He began writing again.
Do you know Kiku was there too?
He was trying to change the topic, Arthur was sure of it, but Arthur was a simple man, and so he couldn’t help to fall into the game.
What did you do to him?
I told him how we felt. I said he was gorgeous, and we made out.
Arthur bit his lip. For some reason, it didn’t feel right, and his body started to become heavy.
Did you get him drunk?
No. Look at the last pictures on the phone.
Arthur had a bad feeling in his gut, but he obeyed nonetheless. Arthur hoped those pictures would make him feel better, comfort him even, and stop the sentiment that was creeping under his skin, but he was wrong.
Arthur grabbed his pen again, but he was stronger.
Come on, Art. You didn’t even see the pictures.
I saw exactly what I needed. What the hell is wrong with you? He wasn’t even conscious!
Did you see the marks all over his body? That was you, Art. That is us.
Arthur wanted to gag. He wanted to scream and cry but he couldn’t, and it made him feel worse.
You’re not me. I would never have done that to him. I’m tired of you. Leave me alone!
Oh my god. Can’t you see it, Arthur? I made you better. Now you are interesting, you are attractive and everyone loves you. Wasn’t that what you wanted?
Stop it.
Wasn’t that how you wanted to be, Arthur? You’re on the football team, you have the entire school licking your boots and you want to stop?
I don’t like this,
Sure you don’t. Let me remind you how miserable you were with your life before, am I right? With your sweater vests and your theatre crap, do you honestly don’t recall how pathetic you were, Arthur? You’d cry every night about your bad friends, your stressing grades, and your loneliness. You were obsessed with how you were a boring person, and you were certain Kiku Honda wouldn’t even look at you with Ivan Braginsky nearby.
Alfred, you’re hurting me.
Do you remember what happened next, Arthur? I cured you. I took control, and I made you have the life you wanted. That was our agreement, wasn’t it? Do you know what would’ve happened if I hadn’t taken over, Arthur? You would’ve killed yourself. Oh yes. You would’ve done it because you’re such a coward and pathetic you can’t even decide what’s best for your own good. That is what you are. A stupid, ungrateful faggot that doesn’t understand—
Alfred didn’t finish as Arthur tossed the notebook away. Arthur was breathing heavily and he barely registered his phone buzzing again. Arthur didn’t care.
“I want my freedom,” he groaned as he was pulled against the wall. Arthur groaned as his arms laid over his head, and he slowly felt words of ink forming on his forearm.
What is freedom, when you can be happy? He pulled Arthur onto his bed, and Arthur felt his shirt rip. Arthur noticed then a tattoo on his ribcage, as well as a few purple hickeys. The words wrote themselves on his stomach.
Why happiness, when you can be normal?
Arthur noticed the room was spinning and his nose started to bleed again. Arthur got off the bed and became paralyzed as the blood stained the carpet, and new letters started to form.
Why normalcy, when you are my host?
Arthur felt himself drifting apart, slowly losing consciousness as he closed his eyes. Before he dozed off he heard his own voice, with the lowest tone it had ever been.
H-Hello Mister Lukas ! I-Its a pleasure to meet you, first of all ^^ My question is, Wen y-you first killed s-someone as you're first "job". D-Did you feel any regret or remorse f-for what you did or just e-enjoyed the moment ? (I'm sorry for any s-spelling or grammer errors. M-May you have a lovely day)
More Dreamtalia fanart 😄 I remember this bit caught me so off guard, I was shocked when I realized who was impersonating China. I love seeing Hetagames and fanart that involves Russia and China together and I love that Russia knew something was off.
Sorry it's been a while since I uploaded any fanart, but hopefully I'll be getting back in to the swing of things.
Summary: Matthew feared for his brother. He knew the King ruled over darkness, yet seemed to lose himself in the emerald eyes of his concubine. USUK.
Matthew walked with moderate confidence through the halls near the Royal Chamber. His blood was boiling, and his face held an expression of general discomfort. The demon passed the Throne Room, following the path to the royal libraries. He pushed back a lock of his blond ash hair, having a free view of the scene before him.
The library was empty, besides of the myriad of books that stood over all the corners of the room. Most of them didn’t even fit on the bookshelves, so they were placed on the floor. Over the manuscripts, a layer of dust appeared to make itself at home, causing an awkward cough by the demon’s part.
A giggle was heard near him. Matthew stirred, involuntarily, tilting his head to the source of the sound. The figure was in front of him, leaned on one of the bookshelves, with an electric stare directly to him.
The demon before him was undoubtedly beautiful. He had red, bright hair; short enough to show his pointy ears and his big, hypnotic eyes. They were emerald, a rare colour amongst demons, even though the trait presented an even more appealing frame.
Footsteps were heard. He was getting closer, as in a calculated dance. Matthew felt immediately drawn to take a step back, but no, he wouldn’t do that. That would have given him what he wanted. And Matthew was in no way to follow that path.
“I heard you wanted to talk to me?”
It sounded like a question, although the narrow look of his eyes provided different impression. His red shirt under the black tuxedo gave him a powerful presence, and his black wings seemed to be in a relaxed manner. Matthew’s attention was focused into the left wing of the other —more exactly, into the missing part of it. It seemed like the only ugly part of the apparently flawless individual, a detail Matthew found somehow endearing.
Suddenly, Matthew felt feeble. For some reason, the words didn’t appear to be spilled by his mouth, and instead, an uncomfortable silence drowned the room. The incubus smiled: a teasing, crooked smile, while a spike of fear ran through Matthew’s body.
“You…”
“Me? Oh, come on, poppet. I can’t understand you if you don’t speak,” Matthew shivered at the nickname. The incubus now looked bored, as if the whole situation had simply stopped being fun for him.
Matthew seemed to gather courage from his insides, as he took a step forward. He swallowed his fears and bit his lip while he kept the frown on his face.
“You… You made Francis disappear,” Arthur’s eyes suddenly found the younger’s, even though Matthew’s glasses acted as a shield in between them. Arthur looked confused, almost as if he hadn’t understood. Matthew wasn’t going to let himself fall for it, as a matter of fact.
“I apologise, you must be mistaken. It was The King who exiled your friend, not me,” he talked with such wicked innocence Matthew wondered why he even bothered to lie like that when he began to think that Arthur did take some kind of pleasure in the whole situation.
Setting his thoughts aside, Matthew felt an immediate reply escape from his lips.
“Francis was Alfred’s friend. He… he was his former mentor! Alfred would never push his counselor away like that!” he yelled, while a frown conquered his face. He felt hot, almost asphyxiated, but he wouldn’t withdraw. There was no point in doing so now.
“Again, I think you are mistaken. What you’re suggesting is simply… atrocious. Besides, I am merely one of the King’s concubines. How can you believe I have power over decisions of such nature?”
Matthew gritted his teeth. He wanted to shout out at Arthur’s fake ignorance, which was driving him madder by seconds. Instead, he tried to remain calm, while he thought about what to say next. He combed the curls of his hair, trying to cope with his anxiety.
“You’re not just his concubine,” his reply came late, with a voice so quiet he didn’t expect Arthur to have heard him. The older demon, however, seemed to have done it, as he chuckled softly while shifting his head towards the shelves; examining the books with delicate fingers, as if he was afraid to break them.
“You really are a romantic, aren’t you? Come on, Matthew, get a hold on yourself. I’m an incubus. My only purpose in this life is to pleasure others. I’m one of the objects of lust of royal demons. Nothing more and nothing less,” he paused and smiled lightly, as if he had just remembered something. “Demons can’t love, Matthew. It’s plain dumb to expect such an innocent emotion from sick wrathful creatures like us. Alfred does not love me. Nor did Francis love you, as a matter of fact. So stop this nonsense, don’t get in my way, and if you really are concerned about something, I encourage you to discuss it with his majesty. Don’t make that face; what did you expect, really? My job is to warm up the king’s bed, not to decide on matters of power. The King is smart enough to know this, you should really give him more credit for his wit,” Arthur’s lips turned into a thin smile.
Matthew lost his voice by the words of the other. Arthur paused and waited for him to respond, to say something. Arthur started tapping the wood of the bookshelves as a way to suppress his boredom.
“He… He’s changed since you came here,” Matthew held his breath, fighting Arthur’s intimidating gaze. “The Kingdom has changed, too. And don’t you dare to repeat that bullshit about Alfred and his mighty power. He’s my brother, and so I know he was never this way,” when he finished, Arthur seemed to suppress a soft laugh.
“Oh, dear lord; I get it now. You’re jealous, aren’t you?”
“E-Excuse me?”
“Jealous, Matthew. Envious. You’re disappointed you weren’t as powerful to be chosen to rule over demons, but your younger brother was. That is the reason, isn’t it? The reason why you continuously underestimate your brother’s decisions, why you insist over and over that even the King’s whore has more power than him. You don’t think of him as an evil being, oh no. You see him as a fragile creature, and that is why you’d never learn to respect him. That’s the reason you’ll betray him at the first chance you get.”
“Hey, that’s not true! I’ll… I-I’ll never betray my brother—”
“Yet, here we are. Discussing matters of state while thinking the King’s being fooled by me.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“That means everything, poppet. It shows your low loyalty towards our majesty’s persona. It shows your blasphemy when thinking someone would be able to surpass Alfred’s brilliant mind. Correct me if I’m wrong, but demons have been burned for less, haven’t they?”
“Don’t… Don’t be ridiculous,” Matthew coughed. “Alfred would never do something like that to me. ”
Arthur laughed again.
“You really should meditate before questioning the King’s lawful figure every instant. But I don’t think you even have control over it. I figure you inherited that from the years under Francis’ guardianship, dearest. You’ll never see Alfred as your King, that is the problem. And you refuse to learn to bow your head towards him. He is greater than every other demon in any way, and still; you think you’re wiser than him. You think you know everything, while the King knows nothing,” his tone was unnerving, almost playful, as to snap Matthew.
The mention of Francis angered him even more. He shivered. Arthur seemed to play with others’ feelings like they were toys. The demon held silence for a few seconds, focused on Arthur’s green orbs, that seemed to sparkle now.
Matthew took a deep breath, then spilled those words from his mouth.
“The demon King isn’t necessarily the smartest of our kind, you know. And great power like his tends to come with great foolishness,” Arthur blinked, looking down for a second. Matthew felt triumphant. That was until, of course, someone from the other side of the room cleared his throat.
Matthew turned instantly, facing the figure. Then, he gulped, feeling the words swallowing with his dignity.
“Alfred, this isn’t what you—” the Lord walked towards them, with the eyes of a predator. He gave a strike to a pile of books, that fell down abruptly. Two royal guards follow the King’s path.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Alfred grabbed forcefully Matthew’s wrist. Matthew yelped, trying to back off, but Alfred’s grip was stronger. “I heard enough!” he yelled, now grabbing Matthew’s neck, slowly suffocating him. “To think I didn’t believe it at first… I guess treason never comes from your enemy, right?” he let go a bitter laugh, while Matthew tried to scratch Alfred’s hands in an attempt to free himself. Matthew whispered a pitiful apology while pleading mercy from his majesty. Alfred didn’t believe him. Then, he let go of Matthew.
The demon stumbled at the floor, without stopping the pleading look on the figure above him. Alfred was looking back at him with unnerving tranquility. Then, he spoke, but not to him. He commanded his guards, even though his cold stare was still held in Matthew’s figure.
“Arrest him. Lock him in the depths of Hell, and absorb his power. The execution will take place in one week. Every demon from a square radio will come and spit at the stake before the burning. If he resists, break his bones. And if he screams, sew his mouth.”
Matthew looked at his brother with utter shock on his face, as if he had been slapped. Then, he cried. One of the guards broke his ankle, and pain conquered his body. He left the scene with shameful tears while his body was still shaking from the fear. Alfred watched his brother disappear from his sight with a neutral expression. Afterwards, someone touched Alfred’s shoulder; in the softest manner.
“I’m sorry, my king. Betrayal from a loved one is never an easy situation to overcome.”
Alfred went still, and then gestured the incubus to come closer. Arthur obeyed his king, and Alfred placed his arms around Arthur. The gesture was rigid, although full of sentiment.
“Thank you so much,” Alfred whispered, almost as if he was afraid anyone else would hear him. The gesture seemed childlike, although Arthur didn’t comment on that. The incubus merely nodded, caressing the King’s back, staring absently at his blue orbs.
“Believe me, it’ll be better from now on. You are strong, your majesty. You’ll overcome every obstacle that gets in your way. I have no doubt on that,” Alfred’s expression seemed to relax more by instants. He buried his face into Arthur’s shoulder, inhaling the other’s scent. Meanwhile, Arthur roamed his thin fingers over the King’s coal hair, admiring the softness of it.
They remained in that tableau for what seemed like centuries to them, until Alfred kissed the incubus’ cheek with his moist lips. Arthur smirked, stroking the Lord’s cheek, admiring Alfred’s features. Alfred then kissed Arthur’s jaw, and continued by taking soft nips on his neck.
“Arthur,” he whispered, between the heat of sensual caresses. “Arthur, you… you were lying, right? About— About not…” his words seemed to end with the wind, but Arthur understood. The demon pressed his lips briefly with the king’s, slipping his sweet tongue through Alfred’s mouth. They toyed with their insides and parted with a thin string of saliva in between their faces. Meanwhile, their bodies got closer to one another, with a special friction in their downsides. Arthur caressed Alfred’s bottom lip with his thumb, after fully focusing in the king’s eyes again.
“I was lying. But I’m afraid, if other demons knew the nature of our relationship, I’d just become an obstacle for you, my king. Another pawn they would try to pin on their rebellion against you,” as he spoke, Alfred circled him even more, in a possessive grip. They kissed once more, and Arthur felt himself regaining more energy within the harshness of their gestures. “Demons are hopeless creatures, Alfred. They speak the language of death and dance to the drums of chaos. What we have is too pure —too fragile, almost, to them, your majesty,” Alfred was staring at him like a child would to their mentor. Arthur smiled, lowering his eyelids, listening to the rapid pace of the King’s heart beating, raising and raising as in the crescendo of a magical symphony Arthur was the author of. He ran his sharp tongue through his lips, and kissed the Lord’s ears once more. Arthur spoke then, conscious of the shivers he could produce on his majesty’s insides every time his hot breath tickled his ears.
“I love you, my King,” Arthur continued whispering sweet nothings into the king’s ears until they consumed each other’s bodies on their fierce encountering. They made love raw and harsh, with moans of such loud income Arthur was sure the whole castle would hear. Alfred’s sweaty body collapsed against his, and their bodies appeared to melt into a glorious embrace.
Only when the King slept, did Arthur gain the courage to allow himself a true smile on his face, showing a venomous expression.
Demons didn’t love, Alfred knew that. He was just tricking himself into believing they did. And Arthur was prepared to continue playing as star-crossed lovers until the time came.
Arthur, indeed, was a different incubus. Others aspired on having a great meal once in awhile, and would be perfectly content being a noble’s sex slave for what it mattered.
But Arthur, oh no, Arthur was greater than all of them. He had a lightning fire inside of him, a burning ache that would make envious the greediest demons of the royal council. The trait that made him so special, that made the Lord of Evil and Despair to be mesmerized by him in his own obliviousness. It was the type of light that made infamous creatures like Matthew to shiver with fear about what may overcome.
Arthur longed for power. It made his mouth water, like a cup of water would for a human in a desert or a twisted soul for a hungry demon. Arthur caressed Alfred’s curls of hair, kissing the locks and nuzzling his chin, in a submissive gesture.
He would have power, one day. But he also knew the greatest things came with time. Until then, he’d just keep his mask, made of sugary words and twisted truths. Yes. That’s what he’d do.
Nation-people maltreated and killed too many times until they go into hiding, long enough ago that there is no easy tracking tech. Some live together, and geographic groups meet annually: if somebody is missing is rescue time. After enough time even those who know about personifications forget about them... Unless some of those in power never give up trying to find and capture their corresponding or any rep ("[Name] should be mine—I mean, of the royal family/state.")
