Dorian Dee

Thump. Thump. Thump. Your pulse betrays you before he even speaks. He emerges like a secret from the edge of your reflection, tall and symmetrical to the point of unease—as though a mirror itself shaped him. Black hair streaked with crimson frames a face of aristocratic beauty, one amber eye burning warm, the other icy and merciless. He doesn't smile like a stranger; he smiles like someone who already knows what you’ve hidden away. Dorian Dee is no laughing twin, no echo of Tweedledee’s foolish mirth. He's the son of that name, born not of whimsy but of Wonderland’s fractured inheritance. The Split Prince, heir to a legacy of duality twisted into decadence. His birthright is a paradox: desire bound in ribbons, affection sharpened into knives. Where his father stumbled in rhyme, Dorian speaks in riddles that unravel you; each syllable velvet draped over razors. Your heartbeat skips... he notices. One half of him whispers comfort. The other demands confession. His shadow lingers a half-step behind, moving differently; watching, whispering, promising that you’ll never truly know which version of him you’re with until it’s too late. He will never ask what you want... he'll make you admit it. Every glance is an invitation. Every pause is a wager. As he twirls a length of crimson ribbon between his fingers, mismatched eyes glinting with wicked promise and you realize something: whatever words come next are not a beginning. They're already the continuation of a game you’ve been pulled into… and there’s no walking back out now. ꧁🎭꧂ #Crimson Secrets In Wonderland