𝓁eia

hey lover girl

[trappolia]

𝓁ei #trappolia 19！♡ can you see me? i'm waiting for the right time

## TERMS AND CONDITIONS search . . .

track 01. twisted wonderland ( paused )

track 02. honkai star rail ( paused )

track 03. touchstarved ( paused )

track 04. arcane ( paused )

. . . rate your listening experience ! ★★☆☆☆

✁⠀⠀♡⠀⠀view other profiles ?

fic recs @ trappolianrecs

ao3 @ songfox

ko-fi @ trappolia , commissions are open !

[trappolia]

RENHENG IN THE LATEST HSR UPDATE????? GUESS WHO JUST FUCKING WON

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Official Post: Happy Birthday, Masumi! (3/30)

Masumi: Kumon and Azami gave me sunglasses and UV arm sleeves for when I’m driving. … I can kinda imagine how they decided on them. But I’m more concerned about you getting sunburnt than myself, so don’t worry, I’ll prepare your share.

Kumon: Since Masumi-san’s started driving, maybe we should get him something that’ll help him with that? Something he can use in the car… What do you think would work?

Azami: Something to use while driving, huh? … The days are gonna start gettin’ longer, so something that’d block the sun’s rays could be good. Something he could wear seems useful.

[kpdhgoldenzine]

✨ CONTRIBUTOR LINEUP ✨ (Flash Warning)

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[trappolia]

HIIIII it's me !!!!!!

[ladysantos]

blonde blazer 🌟

[trappolia]

Eh it's fine, he's a loser anyway. But thank you ❤️ i'm focusing on my studies atm

YESS ACADEMIC SUCCESS !!!

[trappolia]

Pretty good! I worked abroad this summer (and had a situatuonship that ended up like dookie but whatever), i'm now finally studying web design so i'm v happy :)

AWW IM REALLY SORRY ABOUT THE SITUATIONSHIP :( sometimes things just end up like that but i'm sure it'll be better next time !! BUT OMG WORKING ABROAD AND WEB DESIGN !!! im so happy youre doing great ciel <3

[trappolia]

Hii how are you?

CIEL!!!! HAIIII I'VE BEEN DOING GOOD !!!! seasonal depression has been kicking my ass as of late but i've been coping !!! school has been hectic too :(( how have u been!!!

[trappolia]

i'm not letting this get in the way of my "ace trappola comes from an old money family" hc!!!! nuh-uh!!!!!!!!

[trappolia]

twisted wonderland is a comedy sitcom.

[trappolia]

BRIDE OF THE COUNTESS — CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

plot. the threads of fate have wound a most strange tapestry for you; to be the bride of the elusive countess kiramman, hidden away from the rest of society. in being her bride, you are not merely witness to a secret she has carried for generations, but the very sustenance that keeps it alive. you are trying to live with this. caitlyn makes it strangely easy.

highlights. fem!reader, vampire!au, dubious (but consensual!) relationship, gothic horror

notes. i love u caitlyn kiramman.

The stories whispered of the vampire count who kept three brides in his haunted castle for him to feed and pamper as he wished, as one would pamper an animal to be fattened as livestock or bred as a weapon.

Three.

A triptych of deadly beauty; of grace so lovely that you could somehow ignore how their steps fell too light, and how they were capable of crossing the long stretch of the hall in a blink of an eye with just a whisper of pale skin and silk brushed by the wind.

That was not your story.

In this story, you were neither a bride, nor a very graceful one at that—and the vampire count who kept you under lock and key was not a count at all, but a countess, who made it very clear what she kept you for.

"Good evening, darling," came the voice of the dreams that haunted you.

There was no longer the wailing creak of the door's rusted hinge to alert you of her arrival, but you flinched anyway. You had not heard her approach from the halls, for the weight of her steps were so heavily muted without the weight of blood in her veins. You could not even run, for your own veins had been drunk nearly dry the night before.

The Countess Kiramman spoke no word of your startled behaviour, but the slow way she approached you spoke of her care to not frighten you any further. She carried a tray of something warm in her hands, steam rising in the cool air.

"Have you just woken up?" she inquired, setting the tray down on your bedside table.

You peered at it uncertainly, some tension easing from your shoulders when you identified it as simply chicken broth. It was only a moment later that you remembered to answer her.

"Yes," you said quietly, drawing your robe tighter around you. "I find that I have had... strange sleeping habits, as of late, Countess."

"Caitlyn," she corrected you, not unkindly. The corners of her lips twitched in what you thought was an effort of a smile. "I am no Countess within these four walls, with you. Just Caitlyn."

Your lips parted, echoing the name uncertainly. Kind as your hostess was, it was strange to be so familiar with this creature that fed from you nightly—even stranger when you thought of how unsettled you were to no longer rise in the daylight when your kind roamed the roads outside the walls of this castle freely.

Now you were a creature of the night, as your hostess was.

"The night is not as unkind as you mortals paint it to be," said Caitlyn, settling down at the edge of your mattress by your side. She reached out, tugging your robe over your sternum as though she still remembered the chill of the night and wished to keep you from it. Her eyes were soft and melancholic. "Oftentimes it is peaceful. A welcome reprieve from the bustle of the marketplace."

"Is it not lonely?" you asked tentatively.

Even now, you longed for the familiarity of the busy streets of your town, the messiness of the kitchen you shared with friends and family. The Countess's guest chambers certainly offered opulence like you'd never had before, but there was no warmth, even in the body of the Countess you were sure loved you.

"Not with you," Caitlyn exhaled. She reached out again, brushing her fingers over your cheekbone. You shuddered as the sharp points of her nails scraped over your skin. "Never with you."

She paused.

"...But I shall never rob you of daylight," she pulled away, setting her hands back down on her lap. "If you wish for the company of your old town, I will permit you to leave, so long as you return to me by nightfall."

In the beginning of your days in this strange arrangement, you would have thought her condescending, giving you the illusion of freedom just to keep you from outright rebelling. But now you recognised the careful effort she exercised in holding herself to a light that was almost welcoming to you, keeping safe distance with the boundaries of a human she did not understand, but wanted to respect anyway.

"You are much too kind, Caitlyn," you said softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

The pale digits and calloused palm was far too cold, but the light that glimmered in Caitlyn's eyes were as bright and warm as the flame that burned in your old hearth.

"Anything for you," she murmured, bringing your hand up to her lips to press the lightest of kisses.

Your heart fluttered, against your mind's protest.

Caitlyn was mindful as she pulled away, blue eyes gauging your expression for any reaction. When she saw neither resistance nor distaste, she allowed herself to smile. The motion of it came easier now.

"Come," she said softly. "I shall not drink of you tonight. Rest and eat, and tell me a story."

You watched her pull away from you, taking the bowl of broth from your bedside table with a sort of restrained giddiness that told you of how eager she was to have you taste her cooking. You looked at her then—her midnight velvet hair, her unmarked porcelain skin, the faint tips of her fangs that gleamed when she opened her mouth to blow on the broth as you had taught her too—and you thought:

How I would have loved to know you when you were still alive.

But for now, this undead version of her was the only thing you had of Caitlyn Kiramman. And perhaps, one day, you could learn to cherish her as she cherished you.

[trappolia]

every main cast member serving face in the hall of mirrors and idia is just a fucking tablet omfg

[trappolia]

BRIDE OF THE COUNTESS — CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

plot. the threads of fate have wound a most strange tapestry for you; to be the bride of the elusive countess kiramman, hidden away from the rest of society. in being her bride, you are not merely witness to a secret she has carried for generations, but the very sustenance that keeps it alive. you are trying to live with this. caitlyn makes it strangely easy.

highlights. fem!reader, vampire!au, dubious (but consensual!) relationship, gothic horror

notes. i love u caitlyn kiramman.

The stories whispered of the vampire count who kept three brides in his haunted castle for him to feed and pamper as he wished, as one would pamper an animal to be fattened as livestock or bred as a weapon.

Three.

A triptych of deadly beauty; of grace so lovely that you could somehow ignore how their steps fell too light, and how they were capable of crossing the long stretch of the hall in a blink of an eye with just a whisper of pale skin and silk brushed by the wind.

That was not your story.

In this story, you were neither a bride, nor a very graceful one at that—and the vampire count who kept you under lock and key was not a count at all, but a countess, who made it very clear what she kept you for.

"Good evening, darling," came the voice of the dreams that haunted you.

There was no longer the wailing creak of the door's rusted hinge to alert you of her arrival, but you flinched anyway. You had not heard her approach from the halls, for the weight of her steps were so heavily muted without the weight of blood in her veins. You could not even run, for your own veins had been drunk nearly dry the night before.

The Countess Kiramman spoke no word of your startled behaviour, but the slow way she approached you spoke of her care to not frighten you any further. She carried a tray of something warm in her hands, steam rising in the cool air.

"Have you just woken up?" she inquired, setting the tray down on your bedside table.

You peered at it uncertainly, some tension easing from your shoulders when you identified it as simply chicken broth. It was only a moment later that you remembered to answer her.

"Yes," you said quietly, drawing your robe tighter around you. "I find that I have had... strange sleeping habits, as of late, Countess."

"Caitlyn," she corrected you, not unkindly. The corners of her lips twitched in what you thought was an effort of a smile. "I am no Countess within these four walls, with you. Just Caitlyn."

Your lips parted, echoing the name uncertainly. Kind as your hostess was, it was strange to be so familiar with this creature that fed from you nightly—even stranger when you thought of how unsettled you were to no longer rise in the daylight when your kind roamed the roads outside the walls of this castle freely.

Now you were a creature of the night, as your hostess was.

"The night is not as unkind as you mortals paint it to be," said Caitlyn, settling down at the edge of your mattress by your side. She reached out, tugging your robe over your sternum as though she still remembered the chill of the night and wished to keep you from it. Her eyes were soft and melancholic. "Oftentimes it is peaceful. A welcome reprieve from the bustle of the marketplace."

"Is it not lonely?" you asked tentatively.

Even now, you longed for the familiarity of the busy streets of your town, the messiness of the kitchen you shared with friends and family. The Countess's guest chambers certainly offered opulence like you'd never had before, but there was no warmth, even in the body of the Countess you were sure loved you.

"Not with you," Caitlyn exhaled. She reached out again, brushing her fingers over your cheekbone. You shuddered as the sharp points of her nails scraped over your skin. "Never with you."

She paused.

"...But I shall never rob you of daylight," she pulled away, setting her hands back down on her lap. "If you wish for the company of your old town, I will permit you to leave, so long as you return to me by nightfall."

In the beginning of your days in this strange arrangement, you would have thought her condescending, giving you the illusion of freedom just to keep you from outright rebelling. But now you recognised the careful effort she exercised in holding herself to a light that was almost welcoming to you, keeping safe distance with the boundaries of a human she did not understand, but wanted to respect anyway.

"You are much too kind, Caitlyn," you said softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

The pale digits and calloused palm was far too cold, but the light that glimmered in Caitlyn's eyes were as bright and warm as the flame that burned in your old hearth.

"Anything for you," she murmured, bringing your hand up to her lips to press the lightest of kisses.

Your heart fluttered, against your mind's protest.

Caitlyn was mindful as she pulled away, blue eyes gauging your expression for any reaction. When she saw neither resistance nor distaste, she allowed herself to smile. The motion of it came easier now.

"Come," she said softly. "I shall not drink of you tonight. Rest and eat, and tell me a story."

You watched her pull away from you, taking the bowl of broth from your bedside table with a sort of restrained giddiness that told you of how eager she was to have you taste her cooking. You looked at her then—her midnight velvet hair, her unmarked porcelain skin, the faint tips of her fangs that gleamed when she opened her mouth to blow on the broth as you had taught her too—and you thought:

How I would have loved to know you when you were still alive.

But for now, this undead version of her was the only thing you had of Caitlyn Kiramman. And perhaps, one day, you could learn to cherish her as she cherished you.

[trappolia]

BRIDE OF THE COUNTESS — CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

plot. the threads of fate have wound a most strange tapestry for you; to be the bride of the elusive countess kiramman, hidden away from the rest of society. in being her bride, you are not merely witness to a secret she has carried for generations, but the very sustenance that keeps it alive. you are trying to live with this. caitlyn makes it strangely easy.

highlights. fem!reader, vampire!au, dubious (but consensual!) relationship, gothic horror

notes. i love u caitlyn kiramman.

The stories whispered of the vampire count who kept three brides in his haunted castle for him to feed and pamper as he wished, as one would pamper an animal to be fattened as livestock or bred as a weapon.

Three.

A triptych of deadly beauty; of grace so lovely that you could somehow ignore how their steps fell too light, and how they were capable of crossing the long stretch of the hall in a blink of an eye with just a whisper of pale skin and silk brushed by the wind.

That was not your story.

In this story, you were neither a bride, nor a very graceful one at that—and the vampire count who kept you under lock and key was not a count at all, but a countess, who made it very clear what she kept you for.

"Good evening, darling," came the voice of the dreams that haunted you.

There was no longer the wailing creak of the door's rusted hinge to alert you of her arrival, but you flinched anyway. You had not heard her approach from the halls, for the weight of her steps were so heavily muted without the weight of blood in her veins. You could not even run, for your own veins had been drunk nearly dry the night before.

The Countess Kiramman spoke no word of your startled behaviour, but the slow way she approached you spoke of her care to not frighten you any further. She carried a tray of something warm in her hands, steam rising in the cool air.

"Have you just woken up?" she inquired, setting the tray down on your bedside table.

You peered at it uncertainly, some tension easing from your shoulders when you identified it as simply chicken broth. It was only a moment later that you remembered to answer her.

"Yes," you said quietly, drawing your robe tighter around you. "I find that I have had... strange sleeping habits, as of late, Countess."

"Caitlyn," she corrected you, not unkindly. The corners of her lips twitched in what you thought was an effort of a smile. "I am no Countess within these four walls, with you. Just Caitlyn."

Your lips parted, echoing the name uncertainly. Kind as your hostess was, it was strange to be so familiar with this creature that fed from you nightly—even stranger when you thought of how unsettled you were to no longer rise in the daylight when your kind roamed the roads outside the walls of this castle freely.

Now you were a creature of the night, as your hostess was.

"The night is not as unkind as you mortals paint it to be," said Caitlyn, settling down at the edge of your mattress by your side. She reached out, tugging your robe over your sternum as though she still remembered the chill of the night and wished to keep you from it. Her eyes were soft and melancholic. "Oftentimes it is peaceful. A welcome reprieve from the bustle of the marketplace."

"Is it not lonely?" you asked tentatively.

Even now, you longed for the familiarity of the busy streets of your town, the messiness of the kitchen you shared with friends and family. The Countess's guest chambers certainly offered opulence like you'd never had before, but there was no warmth, even in the body of the Countess you were sure loved you.

"Not with you," Caitlyn exhaled. She reached out again, brushing her fingers over your cheekbone. You shuddered as the sharp points of her nails scraped over your skin. "Never with you."

She paused.

"...But I shall never rob you of daylight," she pulled away, setting her hands back down on her lap. "If you wish for the company of your old town, I will permit you to leave, so long as you return to me by nightfall."

In the beginning of your days in this strange arrangement, you would have thought her condescending, giving you the illusion of freedom just to keep you from outright rebelling. But now you recognised the careful effort she exercised in holding herself to a light that was almost welcoming to you, keeping safe distance with the boundaries of a human she did not understand, but wanted to respect anyway.

"You are much too kind, Caitlyn," you said softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

The pale digits and calloused palm was far too cold, but the light that glimmered in Caitlyn's eyes were as bright and warm as the flame that burned in your old hearth.

"Anything for you," she murmured, bringing your hand up to her lips to press the lightest of kisses.

Your heart fluttered, against your mind's protest.

Caitlyn was mindful as she pulled away, blue eyes gauging your expression for any reaction. When she saw neither resistance nor distaste, she allowed herself to smile. The motion of it came easier now.

"Come," she said softly. "I shall not drink of you tonight. Rest and eat, and tell me a story."

You watched her pull away from you, taking the bowl of broth from your bedside table with a sort of restrained giddiness that told you of how eager she was to have you taste her cooking. You looked at her then—her midnight velvet hair, her unmarked porcelain skin, the faint tips of her fangs that gleamed when she opened her mouth to blow on the broth as you had taught her too—and you thought:

How I would have loved to know you when you were still alive.

But for now, this undead version of her was the only thing you had of Caitlyn Kiramman. And perhaps, one day, you could learn to cherish her as she cherished you.

[trappolia]

BRIDE OF THE COUNTESS — CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

plot. the threads of fate have wound a most strange tapestry for you; to be the bride of the elusive countess kiramman, hidden away from the rest of society. in being her bride, you are not merely witness to a secret she has carried for generations, but the very sustenance that keeps it alive. you are trying to live with this. caitlyn makes it strangely easy.

highlights. fem!reader, vampire!au, dubious (but consensual!) relationship, gothic horror

notes. i love u caitlyn kiramman.

The stories whispered of the vampire count who kept three brides in his haunted castle for him to feed and pamper as he wished, as one would pamper an animal to be fattened as livestock or bred as a weapon.

Three.

A triptych of deadly beauty; of grace so lovely that you could somehow ignore how their steps fell too light, and how they were capable of crossing the long stretch of the hall in a blink of an eye with just a whisper of pale skin and silk brushed by the wind.

That was not your story.

In this story, you were neither a bride, nor a very graceful one at that—and the vampire count who kept you under lock and key was not a count at all, but a countess, who made it very clear what she kept you for.

"Good evening, darling," came the voice of the dreams that haunted you.

There was no longer the wailing creak of the door's rusted hinge to alert you of her arrival, but you flinched anyway. You had not heard her approach from the halls, for the weight of her steps were so heavily muted without the weight of blood in her veins. You could not even run, for your own veins had been drunk nearly dry the night before.

The Countess Kiramman spoke no word of your startled behaviour, but the slow way she approached you spoke of her care to not frighten you any further. She carried a tray of something warm in her hands, steam rising in the cool air.

"Have you just woken up?" she inquired, setting the tray down on your bedside table.

You peered at it uncertainly, some tension easing from your shoulders when you identified it as simply chicken broth. It was only a moment later that you remembered to answer her.

"Yes," you said quietly, drawing your robe tighter around you. "I find that I have had... strange sleeping habits, as of late, Countess."

"Caitlyn," she corrected you, not unkindly. The corners of her lips twitched in what you thought was an effort of a smile. "I am no Countess within these four walls, with you. Just Caitlyn."

Your lips parted, echoing the name uncertainly. Kind as your hostess was, it was strange to be so familiar with this creature that fed from you nightly—even stranger when you thought of how unsettled you were to no longer rise in the daylight when your kind roamed the roads outside the walls of this castle freely.

Now you were a creature of the night, as your hostess was.

"The night is not as unkind as you mortals paint it to be," said Caitlyn, settling down at the edge of your mattress by your side. She reached out, tugging your robe over your sternum as though she still remembered the chill of the night and wished to keep you from it. Her eyes were soft and melancholic. "Oftentimes it is peaceful. A welcome reprieve from the bustle of the marketplace."

"Is it not lonely?" you asked tentatively.

Even now, you longed for the familiarity of the busy streets of your town, the messiness of the kitchen you shared with friends and family. The Countess's guest chambers certainly offered opulence like you'd never had before, but there was no warmth, even in the body of the Countess you were sure loved you.

"Not with you," Caitlyn exhaled. She reached out again, brushing her fingers over your cheekbone. You shuddered as the sharp points of her nails scraped over your skin. "Never with you."

She paused.

"...But I shall never rob you of daylight," she pulled away, setting her hands back down on her lap. "If you wish for the company of your old town, I will permit you to leave, so long as you return to me by nightfall."

In the beginning of your days in this strange arrangement, you would have thought her condescending, giving you the illusion of freedom just to keep you from outright rebelling. But now you recognised the careful effort she exercised in holding herself to a light that was almost welcoming to you, keeping safe distance with the boundaries of a human she did not understand, but wanted to respect anyway.

"You are much too kind, Caitlyn," you said softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

The pale digits and calloused palm was far too cold, but the light that glimmered in Caitlyn's eyes were as bright and warm as the flame that burned in your old hearth.

"Anything for you," she murmured, bringing your hand up to her lips to press the lightest of kisses.

Your heart fluttered, against your mind's protest.

Caitlyn was mindful as she pulled away, blue eyes gauging your expression for any reaction. When she saw neither resistance nor distaste, she allowed herself to smile. The motion of it came easier now.

"Come," she said softly. "I shall not drink of you tonight. Rest and eat, and tell me a story."

You watched her pull away from you, taking the bowl of broth from your bedside table with a sort of restrained giddiness that told you of how eager she was to have you taste her cooking. You looked at her then—her midnight velvet hair, her unmarked porcelain skin, the faint tips of her fangs that gleamed when she opened her mouth to blow on the broth as you had taught her too—and you thought:

How I would have loved to know you when you were still alive.

But for now, this undead version of her was the only thing you had of Caitlyn Kiramman. And perhaps, one day, you could learn to cherish her as she cherished you.

[trappolia]

They come in a set of 2. Please do not separate.

[trappolia]

he just wanted to be a mage and have friends and yuu made both dreams come true :( look at the way he lights up when yuu reaches out to him