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Perfect! I shall do the same for Flittermouse' return! Oh, I'll go do that when I end up on my personal. Thank you~!

Yush, then it is settled! I shall prepare everything for Isaac’s glorious comeback. And yah, I’ve kept contact with Alex after the group fell apart. You could follow her on her personal?

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Omfg I am sorry but it's not for nothing? I mean, you know me, I cannot concentrate on a lot of things for a long time. Though if you revamp Flittermouse then l'll probs get motivated to be here bec lets be honest how can I muse if no one is here to spark the muse??  Oooh Alex, bless Alex; whom I have never seen ever again tbh but yee, Isaac will live if you guys live. Obviously.

Miri gdi— getting my (and poor mouse’s) hopes up all for nothing. Now I feel like revamping this account and maybe even remake Asho’s because I miss that fucker. And I’ll drag Alex back here ; the gods know it wouldn’t be the first time.

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Barajou no kiss: Official Art | Mutsuki Kurama [4/??]

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The Rook kept his hand around the other's neck, fingers digging into the soft skin, at times squeezing it lightly. It took all of his will power not to raise his other hand and wrap it around that delightful neck, joining his other. Those monotone words that left Flittermouse' lips did nothing to the older male-they were words he heard before, words that were always repeated, always. He would admit that it brought him some sense of satisfaction that he had infiltrated the boy's mind in such a way that the mouse viewed him as the only 'safe' thing in the world but still--repetetive words annoyed him to no end. Red eyes opened, looking down with barely hidden intent.

Leaning his head a bit forward, Isaac's lips brushed against the Pawn's ear, parting his flushed mouth a pink tongue darted out, extending towards the welcoming earshelf-he didn't waste a minute in flicking his tongue over the senstive area. Dragging it across the shelf, deeper into the ear before he pulled back again, allowing his mouth to close around the soft ear lobe, biting it hard, wanting to draw blood.

That one bruised hand, filled with cuts and blood put more pressure against the soft flesh of the male's throat. Now actively choking him as sharp nails dug mercilessly into skin. Taking a moment to talk, he stopped sucking on the earlobe. His voice low and husky, breathing slightly uneven, his body reacting ever so slowly to the scent of blood that lingered in the air. "--Flittermouse...." Another squeeze around the boy's neck. "Make me--happy." Simple words yet difficult ways to do it. 

"Bite me--like I showed you that one day. If you do that--it makes me really happy. Happy Isaac--is safe Isaac." Manipulation. That was the only driving force in this odd relationship. He was planning to get more things done, wanting the mouse to follow each of his orders, submissive and silent. In total control. He had been waiting for so long and today was simply the best day to do it. Opportunity knocked on his door and he opened it-welcomed it with open arms.

There was little time for him to feel relief for saying the right thing, olive coloured hues widening when he was pulled closer, landing on his knees. Drying blood was smeared across pale skin, the small male still as a statue, seemingly captivated— or perhaps it was some kind of fear that kept him glued in place. “Isaac safe," he murmured again, this time to himself, as if he had to reassure himself of that thought. “Isaac safe. Want safe. Want Isaac. Have Isaac? Have? Have—" His breath hitched in his throat, allowing not another word to leave. Clearly he was nervous, touches having never been very comforting to him. Not even Isaac’s, especially when they were of this kind, allowing him some frightening moments of doubt. The metallic smell did nothing to ease him either, but the Rook was safe, was he not? In spite of knowing that, the only reason he remained still being that he thought it would only make the other angry, even if no one had said he couldn’t. What was good and what was bad, he had no way of telling, contradicting thoughts curling and twisting around each other in the dark confines of his damaged mind.

The mouse was on his own, rendered helpless and puzzled at the actions he was confronted with. Meanwhile ants were crawling under the skin of his back again, stinging and biting him mercilessly. Ants? Not ants. Something else that left him red and itching from time to time, though it could hardly be welcomed as a distraction. 

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Closed eyes stayed closed when foreign limbs had wrapped themselves around his exposed neck, fingers gliding over his skin with no definate destination to finally be accompanied with a soft perhaps even dark voice. The Rook did not lean towards the touch but he also didn't move away. Why waste a perfectly good chance at being touched like this? Why even care about the reasons of this odd stranger.?Mildly flushed lips rose slightly into a would be smile while one slender, suprisingly cold, hand had been lifted to grab one of the wandering hands on his body, fingers curling around it tightly-almost like a death grip.

"Oh how observant you are." Mock and taunt-barely hidden. The blackhaired man moved his head ever so slowly, glancing over his shoulder to stare at the male. Ah-that look on his face. He could recognize such expressions out of thousands being one who carried them often on his own face. Crimson tinted hues wandered over the boy's face, taking in every little detail before they settled on the collar around his neck. Interesting. Perhaps he wouldn't be too bored after all. Pink tongue extended from his lips, wetting them, slowly-before he tilted his head a bit more to the back, tongue dangerously close to the other's lips before it was pulled back in, jaws snapping playfully.

"Why don't you come closer--in front of me, before me, so I can see if you can really lift this boredom of mine." Releasing the tight grip he had on the boy's hand he turned his head again, staring right in front of him-simply waiting if the other would comply and if he didn't? Oh he would find a way, Isaac always did especially when such a perfect specimen had walked right into his arms. How would he taste? Would his flesh be as bitter and dark as he seemed to be? Or carry a delightful sweet after taste because of that madness that was reflected in those eyes? Ah-he could feel the hunger rising. Patience was the key to victory, so he would wait. For now.

      ✁ - - It was, in a way, amazing what one glance could do. People often said that first impressions about always turned out to be far different from the truth, but aside from over- and underestimation with the occasional disappointment, Naveed had never been wrong. An impression could tell him quite a lot and right now his eyes were telling him something that others may have had trouble with noticing. He and this man were alike.

      Not the same, of course. An individual quite like him he had yet to meet, but he dared thinking this was the closest he had ever gotten to. It struck him like lightning and for a small second held him rooted to the ground, countless of possibilities and scenarios running through his mind before he made his decision. If this man was what Naveed thought he was, which was most likely to be so, then it’d be a waste to pass up this opportunity. In the very least it would be worth a try, an offer for distraction, no matter how long it may last. Like a cat he casually sneaked closer, his heavy boots surprisingly silent on the pavements as he moved up to the stranger from behind in a graceful manner— only to slip his arms around the other’s neck, fingertips sliding against exposed skin wherever they could. “You look awfully bored, darling.”

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He would never think ill of his King-well he might if the man managed to do something that wasn't taken well by the Rook, that in itself was almost impossible given the fact that the manic man was hard to anger but after the Royal had ran away the possibility that he could anger Isaac had become bigger. Just like the ever small present feeling of mild disgust at the fact that someone would fear death. He would make sure to shape his King into the one he came to know so well, wiped clean from those wretched connections he came to make in this world.

His King. As easy as that.

When the subject of the notes was brought up again the noirette couldn't help but sigh inwardly. He would let it rest for now but surely when they returned he would make sure to tear those notes apart, burn them, away from the peering eyes of his King. For the Rook knew that if his Master would lay his eyes on those notes when he was 'reborn' that there was the slight chance that he might wanted to either go back to this disgusting world or experience the exact same feelings he was harbouring now, bringing doubt in his mind and perhaps once again slipping away from his default mode.

That was unacceptable. He wouldn't allow that, he couldn't allow that. Un. The Un he knew, the one he pledged his eternal loyality too-he wanted him back. Every single one that resided in his King's body, he wanted them back in their original state. No longer tainted, clean, pure and filled with maddening delight. Thin lips curling up slightly at the thought that his goal was within sight-making him press his body tighter against the man ( if that was even possible) wrapping him in his possessive hold.

'Yes. You should hate him.'

Thoughts kept within the depth of his mind, silently agreeing with Amelien. "Don't worry, my King. I will take care of this 'you'. Fret not, I will do everything in my might to kill you, kill him. Bring the real you back--" The perfect 'you', the original 'you'. The sentence finished in his mind. Though before that would happen alot of suffering was in store for the blue-eyed Royal. Eyes were narrowed slightly, lashes hiding mostly of those fiery red gaze as the warning, the plea of his King reached his ears.

"I'll remember--and I'll kill every single one of you. Every part of you, every part of them." Voice lowering but the previous air of stoicness dissapearing making place for the much familiar playful, almost taunting tone that had always been present in his voice. The fun of doing such a thing becomig much more present. Always he had been on the receiving end of such matters ( with his King at least) it was beyond satisfying to finally be able to be the one to such things to the man.

When he had pressed his lips against Amelien he didn't expect any sort of positive reaction, meaning he didn't expect the other to respond nor pursue further in the kiss. So when he got nothing in return he didn't found it suprising. Eyes had been clenched shut, while fingers were digging into the soft flesh of his King's cheek, forcing the man's face upwards as he himself lowered his face, pressing everything he got in that kiss. There came no pause, not even when he felt the Royal press his lips a tad bit against his own-getting a small scoff of the Rook in response.

Finding it enough Isaac moved back again, exhaling deeply, lashes fluttering upwards as he once again looked down upon his King. Hands were removed from fair skinned cheeks, dragged downwards till they found the hands of Amy, simply holding them. Smiling, almost too happily, he canted his head slightly. He would forever hold those words in his mind-like a promise not mend to be broken. All of Amelien belonged to him. Never would he allow someone else to take his King away from him-not like before.

"Shall we go back now? A step backwards, pulling the much shorter male forward. "Your Kingdom awaits." The trip back home wouldn't ( hopefully) be too long, he still remembered where exactly he had stumbled upon this world and with the help of his own magic,  Rutains, Melns would be found easily.

In a almost helpless state, the small King could only stay in the shelter of the Rook’s body. Delicate hands finding their purchase on the protection the rest of which Amélien was relying on. His Rooks, his rook was his protection. The rooks were the ultimates, the strongest right after the Queen. This rook showed every bit of grotesque loyalty for the monarchy that they were suppose t be conditioned with, and this is why the blue eyed man would rely on him. He felt comfortable, he felt safe, with Issac. He always would, and for the rest forever until Caissa allowed their cycles to run out completely. 

Then the both of them would gracefully accept the never-ending sleep that was bound to come to all. 

A chuckle seeped from the ill man soon after,“Mon cher LouLou, please do not think poorly of me for that fear,” pressing himself a bit closer to the warmth he continued,“I am a selfish man, and after I’ve been cleansed by you I will no longer have it,” there were so many things about him now that contradicted his default self. The self he was upon birth, upon ‘reset’. And that’s not how it should have been, he should have still been the same ‘Un’. Nothing should be different from that mold, and it quite honestly upset him on one too many levels that he was not the same ‘Un’ everyone was suppose to know,“Heh, My…silly notes,” ah— that hurt a bit (this of course, was one of the differences—- the notes should not have ever crossed his mind once. Not the slightest bit.), the slightest paing in the bottom of his heart… Issac regarding them so illfully,… of course the king knew he had no real right to voice that what with the state he had left this same man in upon his own previous departure,“My silly notes are nothing more than to ease my mind now, I do not wish to die feeling ill,” he wanted to truly believe he would read those notes once again when he woke up, but..“You know me, all of me, probably better than we do. Just how far do you think I will get with reading them?”

A pause, as he came to realize just how he truly felt about himself.

…

“You see…”

“I really hate this me….” 

“He does not die so easily, it’s very tiring for me,” he moved too much, he worked too much, he thought too much. It was all his own will, but at the very same time it managed to wear him down.

“We’re not quite right in the head,” but that appeared to be a common trait for those who had been parted to Melns,“Please, however, Issac. Remember, remember, remember that any of them could show their selves while you’re cleansing me,” the grip he’d held on the taller man tightened desperately,“Be it Quatre, be it Trois, do not stop. Do not let us win. Kill us,”

“Give us a sweet, definite, death,”

Then suddenly. There were lips smothering his own. 

This kiss, it was sudden, and unexpected. Almost startling for Amélien, but he did not move much more than the initial tittle jump of surprise. “His”. Standing, waiting, and letting that sink in as Issac was emphasizing just how much his king apparently belonged to him. There was nothing there that was healthy, there was no love, nothing but intimate intentions of far more sinful means.  Yet, it did not bother him one bit. As when did things of good health ever concern the King of Melns—-? 

He did not move to attempt to deepen the kiss, however, there was no need. Nothing but selfish desires to make himself “happier” is what ran through his mind, only allowing himself to press forward the slightest bit. To assure Issac of something…just what that was, he was not quite sure himself. 

For now, Issac was nothing but a treasured tool to get back home, and relieve himself of heavy burdens that were too bothersome for the indifferent man. The poor, poor, poor, poor excuse of a man. 

“Yours, all yours,”  

“All of us belong to Issac ♡”

And once he would be reset, he would finally be “fit” enough once again to claim Issac as his Rook.

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A W A Y/ O F F L I N E||

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Ohoho. I won't cut his head open. Rest assured but other things are allowed? You can tell me what you'll allow to be done and what can't and we'll work from there! Eeee, same, rolls, which one to start, when to start?  Ah, maybe when you're finally free from school? Or whenever you have time. I'll be here. lurking like a creep

Omfg. Just don’t cut his head open please. He needs it. Excuse me as I lay here and flail.

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Unnnfff GOOD!. I still want to pin Flittermouse on a surgical table, teach him how to pleasure Isaac, abuse/use him-just so many things to do, so many threads to start and to plot. Aaah perfect summer.

YES. YES IT DOES. PLEASE.

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frighteye SAID: CONTINUES SCREAMING

SCREAMS ALONG HAPPILY. DOES THIS MEAN THAT I CAN FINALLY DO ALL THE THINGS TO FLITTERMOUSE THAT I PLANNED LAST YEAR IN THE DEPTHS OF MY MIND? FINALLY.

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SCREAMS MIRI

OHOHOHO! IT IS IZAAAA! OMFG LONG TIME NO SEEN. SERIOUSLY LONG TIME NO SEEN.

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maanziek

To be outside of Rutains, he still wasn't getting used to it. The people were different, their habits were odd and most certainly their means of transportation were out of this world. How long had the Rook been dwelling inside this town? Having forcefully intercourse with men and woman alike, those  he spotted in the night and decided to play with, those he decided to mutilate and those he decided to discard like they were nothing more than playing cards. It all got boring after a while. Arms were wrapped around his slim waist, high heeled boots ticking softly on the conrete, finding an empty spot on a lone bench the effeminate Rook decided to sit down, legs crossing over another as lids closed to hide unnatural colored eyes.

This would proove to be another boring night perhaps he should just seek out children to harass and perhaps to lay with. Anything to fill that burning desire in the pit of his stomach along with the constant need to consume human flesh. Or maybe--maybe he should hunt for some meat. A sigh-it was a thought to ponder about.

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Being so close to his King had put Isaac in a somewhat intoxicated state. This wasn't the first time that they had been in such a close promoxity with each other, he could  vividly remember when the royal had been on top of him, wanting to punish him for 'violating' a certain person. The Rook had enjoyed every second of it even if it didn't came to a point that he lost any limbs or organs ( which he secretly wished for) he still viewed that memory as precious, that moment as delightful and that feeling as amazing.

Isaac had never been one of self control but forcing himself to stay in control brought him to a somewhat masochistic high. Restraining himself from either killing or violating his King while they were in such compromising positions-it was at most delightful.

Those hushed words had reached his ears but he found them of no importance, not important enough to respond to at least. Resetting? Oh well he didn't mind resetting his whole King for that matter. As long as the man returned to Rutains who cared in which condition? The Rook could only close his eyes and let out a quivering sigh. Why? Why did he feared death so? Isaac had never understood such a thing. Why would anyone fear death? It came and it went-it was just how things were. He couldn't care less if he dropped dead today, so be it. Which was one of the reasons why he was so reckless with his own life and limbs. It didn't matter to him-that certain emptiness he carried would never be filled therefore it simply didn't matter.

"My King--." He began, lips lowering to press themselves against the male neck; would be butterfly kisses tracing alonside the soft skin. "You are so.." Another pause as he inhaled sharply, mouth moving upwards to whisper in delicate ears. "Odd. I will never understand your fear of death wether it is because you will not return here or elsewhere. I also do not see the need to document anything nor to preserve the memories of your life. I cannot grasp the importance of it..." Leaning backwards again, hands firmly around a slim waist, locks of black brushing in front of his slanted eyes to look upon the ocean colored hues of his Master.

"I simply can't but if you'll truly allow me to taint you, to break you, cut your skin, eat your flesh and grind your bones then I'll..." Lips curled up into a smile, higher and higher till pearl white teeth, sharp canines became visible for the eyes. An animalistic grin filled with lust and delight changed his angelic appearance into that of the Devil. "--Gladly allow you to write down those silly notes." A soft chuckle was shared, soon after a small sound of sadistic delight passed his light colored lips, feeling his King's lips against his chest briefly wondering how much more of him he could feel and taste when they would return to Rutains.

The confirmation that he was right made the Rook feel victorious, of course he was right. He was never wrong-ever. Each word that left the blue-eyed Royal's lips feed the rook's victorious feeling. Seeping into his mind like bittersweet poison, leaking into his being to taint every cell in his body.

"That is true. No one here for you but me. Only me." Putting emphasis on the last word he gave his King one more look, deep red eyes shimmering with barely hidden intent while pale hands had moved away from the male's waist, rising till they settled on either cheek of Amelien's face. It was then that Isaac had leaned forward, one quick word before he placed his lips a top that of Amy. "Mine."

With that lips had found their destination, possessive, agressive and filled with undescribable need but oh how much did he wanted to feel the man under him, writhing in pain and agony but it all had to wait.

Wait till they returned to Rutains, wait till he had written that stupid journal but then. Then he was at Isaac's mercy, finally-it was that deranged happiness that made the rook press his lips tighter against his King's, no tongue, no love-nothing but the forced kiss he had laid upon his King. This wicked tale was just starting.

“Hmm..~ I’ve read that arrogance is a common trait of royalty, but I think that in our…special case, I have more of a right to certain things that heir Kings don’t….But this goes to say  I can be quite the brat at times,” he could recognize that trait of him he’d grown from his experiences,“That’s a trait I wouldn’t mind resetting..” it was nothing more than a whisper, that was only meant for himself. Issac hearing it, didn’t make a difference to himself. 

Slowly, softly, almost in a narcotic state— Amélien breathed in. They had never been this close together before, their bodies had never been so eloquently entangled with one another. No matter how their bodies seemed to have done this so many times before, how easily they curved with and against one another. How trusting, and comfortable the monarch was being towards the Rook that had the right to harm him. Taking in the scent in of the other, he could only notice that it smelled like Rutains. It was a scent he was craving it, he missed it, he needed that place to survive now. He’d become too warped by it to live outside of it. It was enticing, and all it did was manage to draw the King closer, his tone only growing more hushed as he was now closer to the insane Rook.

“I am, I am so very afraid of death outside of our home LouLou. For there is no coming back out here, and I know not what would come for me afterwards. I’ve gone through too much, and learned too much, to give up now,” life had indeed become precious to the once lost King, and he owed that to that man for it…Death was not avoidable out here, however. He was not naive, but he would do his best to preserve himself until he was home.

“If you try and kill me, I’m afraid I’d have to do the same to you,” for that moment, the emotion that had swelled and colored his voice went blank. There was nothing there, but a cold emptiness.

For a moment, he even realizes what he’d just said. How rude, and perhaps even out of character, that was for him as Un. So he stays still for another while longer, thinking, trying to think of a compromise as he so liked to do with his precious Rook too often,“…Let us return, let me record the things I have learned and experiened— let me preserve these memories, and I will appear to you in your chambers in my simplest clothes. My whitest clothes,” did he even own such a thing, something that contrast with the bright red of his blood?— ”, and you can do to my body as you wish, pull my teeth, dissect me, break my bones, beat me, anything that you wish LouLou. Just allow me a while longer, so that I may not forget these important things I have experienced,” he knew that when he returned, if Caissa allowed it still, that even if he read this journal he planned on making again, everything would not have such a serious impression on as it did now. Back to being the extensively indifferent King— but maybe..just maybe it wouldn’t let him slink so far back into it.

“Will you allow me that? Or are we going to fight and bloody this concrete here and now?”  again, his words had grown stone cold, but there was still some emotion there. Unlike the last, they held…a fiery determination in them. Giving up his knowledge, just like that, was not something he could allow. It was something he’d grown attached to, just like his fascination with teeth.

Feeling the Rook’s fingers and hands leave his neck, he felt some relief. Issac was not going too allow the conflict to arise for now— there was still time for him to safely put his memories away, and get at least….some of the Rook’s forgiveness in the form of offering up his body to the man. European lips pressed against what skin it could reach of Issac’s, not in kiss specifically, just simply touching. Listening carefully to the words his LouLou had to offer, the words that sent raised goosebumps on his almost too pale skin.

“…You are right, Issac,” he could not search for his family, he was too sick to burden them with himself. Lucian was a precious friend of sorts, but he was in danger constantly with the afterthought of Quatre. Jade,…it did not seem she would be appearing— he could only hope that his precious daughter was safe otherwise,“There is absolutely nothing for me here, no one for me,” his words were almost manipulative in intentions, the disparity in them only being half-genuine. Wanting to go back was something that he knew he needed, and Issac was the only one who could take him back at this point. He’d long forgotten the way home, and there was no one else from there to return him.

Amélien realized that all too well.

“Soyez mon sauveur, précieux,”

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His response was a sigh that passed through barely parted lips. Heavily lashed lids concealing his wine red eyes. Hands had been lowered to lay on his lap before he wiped the blood on the pitch black fabric that covered his thighs, he could feel the fabric scraping against cuts, itching-burning but he came to like such sensations a long time ago. A faint smile graced his mildly flushed lips, head canting to the side, body relaxing once more when the boy had come closer towards him. Those words ( words he heard countless of times) once again ringing in his ears, filling him with sweet  salvation and abusive control. "That's a good enough answer--." One cold bloodied hand was extended to grasp the small wrist of Flittermouse, pulling him closer for the final few inches, practically throwing him against him.

"Want Isaac? You can have Isaac." Was muttered-that same hand leaving the wrist and trailing upwards along the bare arm of the noirette, till it reached the mouse' neck where it lay softly-nails grazing the flesh while fingers slowly but surely wrapped themselves around it. "--And Isaac will have you."

Why was a question that Flittermouse should never been asked, for he was hardly capable of reasoning, never mind understanding what the word ‘why’ exactly meant. The question remained unanswered, the Pawn merely blinking in incomprehension. Apparently he had to make a choice, which was strange in itself. As far as he could see there was no reason to make a choice. “Want?” he repeated, frowning. “Want safe. Safe. Isaac safe. Want Isaac?” With that he pattered closer, hoping his answer had been a good one. Isaac was never happy when he did something wrong, even if he didn’t know it. Mad Isaac was a scary Isaac. Very much the opposite of Kjell.