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oldestenemy · 7 months

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“Graduation.” The wizard repeats the word blankly, staring at Headmaster Ambrose like he’s grown a second head. Honestly it would be less surprising if he had grown a second head.

“Yes, the faculty is all in agreement, you have more than surpassed the requi—”

“—Our graduation.” The wizard cuts over him, and now the effect is reversed, Merle Ambrose looks confused.

“I must ask that you hurry along to the cabinet of wonders,” He starts, as though they have not spoken at all. “Mr. Lincoln is waiting to prepare you for—”

“—No.” They cross their arms. They plant their feet. They stare their headmaster down with eyes that saw the fall of Azteca, the deaths of Malistaire and Morganthe. Warm brown flashing gold in a marriage of Myth and Astral magics. “It’s our graduation, right? Mine and all the other older students—all the others who have been here longer than I have.”

“Ah, I am afraid you misunderstand, their studies are—”

“—Are what, incomplete? What part of the requirements for graduation does not attending multiple years worth of classes fall under? Or is it that you only hand out diplomas to loyal war dogs?” The words tumble out before the wizard can stop them. And honestly? They cannot bring themself to regret it.

Silence.

Heavy and tense.

“I understand your nerves have been running high due to the ongoing disappearance of Mr. Grimwater,” Merle Ambrose sounds no different than he had before they spoke. He does not flinch. They wonder somewhere if he has trained the reactions out of himself. If he is concerned about pushing a student to anger, especially one like the wizard. Afraid of making another monster. He’s never reacted to their outbursts. Not the catatonia after Dragonspyre. Not the screaming after Azteca. Not the carefully constructed barbs they had flung at him after their final day on Khrysalis. “I shall consult with the rest of the faculty on the status of your classmates, and see what can be done.”

“I can do it.” They offer, perhaps too quickly. It’s habit. It’s safety. Send me on a quest. Get me out of this room. What can I do. How can I help. “I’m sorry.” The words are bitter and dark on their tongue. They don’t let it show.

“Very well. Consult with the other professors, and have them gather before Bartleby—I will meet them there.”

“Yes, sir.”

And they do.

One by one they make the rounds.

Dworgyn first as he’s furthest away.

Then working from Moolinda to the Elementals and eventually to Cyrus.

Everyone thus far has been in agreement.

Though they can still hear the curl of I would not expect you to advocate for Mr. Stormgate.

The wizard shakes their head, half a smile forming in spite of the barely contained fount of irritation still bubbling under the surface. The idea of graduating alone, of being even further removed from their peers-who-really-weren’t. No. No they wouldn’t go through with that.

When finally they make it back to Ambrose’s office, he is already gone.

But the office itself is packed.

“Wizard!” Penny, beaming and bright. “Have you heard the news? It seems it only just got passed around—”

“—Graduation.” They reply, happy for the fact that they do not have to be the one to break this. That nobody will have to know it was not supposed to be this way. “Through the wardrobe—cabinet—whatever.” They point to the Cabinet of Wonders in the corner, and watch as the Ravenwood upperclassmen—the Dragonspyre Academy Restoration Team—file their way through the doors.

“When you weren’t here, I was worried you’d been called away to some new problem.” Malorn says, watching with them as the others file through. “I wouldn’t put it past Headmaster Ambrose to think saving the world is more important than a silly little ceremony.”

“If that were the case, I might actually agree with him on something.”

“It’s weird,” It’s quiet, those words. “I’ve been teaching other students for—oh gods, how long has it even been now—years? I don’t know what my responsibilities are going to look like after—or—”

“—Malorn.” The wizard’s expression softens, “Breathe. I imagine you can discuss all that with Ambrose afterwards—or hey, don’t discuss it, go back to the Dragonspyre Academy and start planning a curriculum there.” It’s mostly a joke, maybe only half a joke with some of the talk the others have kept up lately. “If you really want to keep teaching.”

“Oh—Spiral no—I don’t think I could go straight into teaching anyone anything beyond—well—I dunno, Wraith I suppose now. I like teaching the younger kids, I like how excited they are to learn.” He pauses, looking back at the cabinet. “It’s not just that though, I don’t ever remember seeing a graduation happen here. I’ve lived in Wizard City my whole life—most of us have aside from Penny and Nolan—it’s just—weird.”

“First time for everything.” Is time the same in the Spiral? Has their body or their counterpart or whatever it is they can slip back into on the empty leeched out Earth graduated? Are they in college? Do they have a job?

Those thoughts make the wizard’s head ache, trying to think about Earth nowadays usually does.

“Yeah. Yeah…” Malorn says finally, giving them one last smile before stepping through.

And the wizard is alone in the Headmaster’s office.

Heart pounding for no good reason.

Who are you who are you who are you who are you.

It doesn’t matter.

Time is moving.

So are they.

~*~

The grounds of Ravenwood are bursting with guests and decoration. A small stage has been set up just before Bartleby, and one by one, by school, the students are called up.

Among the crowd of students there are hushed whispers.

Is that the Emperor of Mooshu?

What is the Headmistress from Pigswick doing here?

What’s with the bird?

The wizard genuinely tunes out a little, watches with ears ringing as their classmates walk across that little stage. Watches the Death students cross together, the void where Duncan should be heavy in the air. Like a poison. Like a fog.

They shake their head, look back into the crowd, faces from everywhere and nowhere. Zenzen catches their eye and if each of them looks away in the same moment? It is only because if they spend too long thinking about the other, the wall constructed against the grief of Azteca will crumble for them both.

They scan further, envoys from Celestia, Avalon, Zafaria—

—somewhere there is a little spark of hurt and worry for the absence of their comrades in arms on Khrysalis. But there is still so much to be done there in the name of keeping peace. Better Dyvim and Zaltanna stay where they are.

There is a set of eyes that amuses them in the fraught emotions of the rest.

Cuffed to not one but two—very disgruntled looking officers is Professor James Meowiarty.

Oh they would’ve loved to have been present for the conversation that happened at Scotland Yard to allow that.

Very suddenly they are the only one left.

It startles them, movements almost a stumble as they mount the steps up to the little stage.

Ambrose is talking, their ears are ringing again. Heroic spirit, shrewd mind, noble virtue—

They can barely hear him.

Even for you.

“My, my.” Professor Drake’s words break the sound of his brother’s reverberating in the Wizard’s skull. “Look at you, look how far you have come in all this time. You know well that I doubted the spark Headmaster Ambrose saw in you upon your arrival. That I did my best to dissuade you through hardship, impossibility, and playing to what I perceived as a lack of drive. I have never been more delighted to be proven wrong.”

Oh.

They are going to cry when this is done.

They’re not going to do it here. In front of so many people. But alone, somewhere safe, this is going to hang in their chest while they heave.

“What you have done for Ravenwood, for the Spiral, and beyond that—for my family, cannot be overstated.” Cyrus Drake is smiling, it is barely there, it could be mistaken for neutrality or perhaps a smirk if they did not know those expressions so well. “You are a remarkable wizard, and one I am tremendously proud of. Keep your mind open to all the wonders that Myth has to offer, and you will never lack new avenues of discovery.”

They want to hold onto those words forever. Not yet acknowledging the other meaning within just saying them, that from this moment there is no longer the thread of Professor and Student tying them to Cyrus Drake. And that almost aches in its own way. A loss of something familiar.

The wizard hasn’t looked away from him by the time Ambrose is talking again. It’s so hard to hear anything. Ears ringing, wind blowing cold and frigid—

Wind blowing?

Had it been windy?

They raise a hand to hold the graduation cap to their head—

And that is when things all come crashing down.

Of course.

Again.

Read the whole series here <3

#wizard101 fanfic #wizard101 #wizard101 fic #wizard101 fandom #wiz101 #wizard101 fanfiction #w101 #scion series is going great why do you ask #lark is still playing funky wizard game from their childhood #i have a writeblr for this but shh

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dyvimwhitehart · 5 months

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fill this ghost town up with light

While her feet do itch to touch down in Tyrian Gorge, she pauses, watching him have the time he deserves with his restored home. or, The Wizard and Dyvim Whitehart visit the Silent Market for the first time since taking it back from the Umbra Legion. READ ON A03 FOR ADDITIONAL COMMENTS.

With the confirmation of just how far the Shadow Palace lies from Bastion, she shifts her eagerness around to equally shoulder its weight with that of reality. It’s simply not feasible to go haywire and burn a hole through Fort Rachias. If she wants a chance at challenging Morganthe face to face, she has to abide by the rules that were established long before she ever set foot in Khrysalis.

The rules of the Umbra Legion. The rules of the Council of Light. The rules of a prophecy she had no hand in writing, but is tasked with fulfilling— with outrunning.

Amber keeps her face steady in front of King Mourningsword. He is doing all he can with what he has, and she knows better than anyone that suddenly being thrust into an ongoing conflict like this after such dormancy is difficult. When he acknowledges how she’s practically chomping at the bit to reach the Shadow Queen, she wonders what aspect of her body betrayed her.

It certainly wasn’t her expression. Maybe her hands, clenching and unclenching, gave away the emotions she’d rather not dwell on. Either way, he gives the plan dreamt up by the throne’s advisor and Zaltanna his royal approval so she can be on her way as soon as possible.

In her haste, she’s nearly out the door before the king can call out for her to wait. Briefly embarrassed, she turns back around, lowering the hand intended for the door to her side.

The king smiles amusedly. Then, he himself turns toward one of the other doors in the throne room as if said smile never occurred.

“You will have a companion on your journey, Spellbinder,”

Amber’s gut reaction to that is a strong, negative one. So many years without a companion, and now they’re being thrust upon her. Hasn’t she proved she can handle herself? Isn’t that what the story wants from her? Even if they mean well, and she’s sure they do, they’ll just slow her down if they stick around.

Or, they’ll get hurt, and there will be no one else left at the scene to blame but the all-powerful Spellbinder that should have done something more. The blood adjacent to her hands soaks the skin more thoroughly than the blood that actually stains them.

As if the universe is playing some kind of cruel joke on her, a newly-revitalized Dyvim Whitehart steps through the door King Mourningsword is gesturing toward.

And if the joke wasn’t already cruel enough, her first instinct is not to fold her hands and simply accept his presence— but to rush forward towards him, sighing in relief.

(She doesn’t— but can you imagine?)

“I told Dyvim Whitehart to rest, but he would not have it,” Mourningsword continues. His best knight moves to stand obediently at his side. “Take him to the Melanos Tower. From there, you can better plan your invasion of Fort Rachias.”

Dyvim steps up, nodding to her. “I am eager to see this through, my friend.”

Though the king is correct about him needing his rest, Amber can’t help but notice how much stronger his voice sounds. That deep, honeyed tone that was absent at the time of him drinking the antidote has returned in full-force. It invigorates her in a way she is not used to. With it, she could do something stupid— like charge aimlessly into battle— without a second thought.

She attempts to say something intelligent, but all she can do at the moment is nod. A declaration of wanted independence is still occupying space on her tongue, and the last thing she wants is to turn him away out of habit.

King Mourningsword does the hard part for them. With a shake of his hand, they’re ushered out the front door of the throne room. Immediately upon exiting, the warmth of the new Bastion hits them. Amber hears Dyvim sigh deeply beside her.

“Isn’t it brilliant? The sun in the sky?”

Amber wipes a coat of dust from a previous battle off her wand. “I’m as glad to see you on your feet as I am the Burrowers reclaiming this area,”

“I couldn’t bear to spend another second cooped up in the palace,” he exclaims, jumping further down the steps. “Not when all of this was waiting for me out here,”

It hits her then that Dyvim had no way of knowing that the next phase of the plan involved storming the Melanos Tower. Had he simply asked the king to send him back out somewhere, anywhere he could oppose the Shadow? Or had he requested to walk alongside her specifically?

Pondering at such a frayed end in the fabric of her journey is useless in the grand scheme of things, though, so she waives it from her mind just as quickly as it appeared there and focuses on the knight’s excitement instead.

“How much of it have you had the chance to see?”

“I awoke again after drinking the antidote as the Apiary guard sought passage here from the base of the Moon Cliffs. It was as if my body sensed there was something I needed to see and forced me awake,” the gusto in his voice rises, and then falls. “Of course, I was ushered back inside again soon after that to rest . But the beauty of it all…”

The wonder on his face encourages Amber to take another look around. Shockingly, she hasn’t made stopping and smelling the roses a priority in all of this. While her feet do itch to touch down in Tyrian Gorge, she pauses, watching him have the time he deserves with his restored home.

It’s important enough to stall the mission because it’s something she feels she hasn’t seen before. The dead worlds like Dragonspyre and Azteca will never have this chance. As Dyvim stops to inspect a bushel of orange flowers, she feels a brief reprieve in her chest— a small voice telling her she’s done a bit of good by Khrysalis.

And then another, crying out that she has to save them this time. She has to .

“These are aurantiacus blossoms,” he smiles, rooting around within them further. “We have them in the Last Wood. With all the fog the Umbra Legion brought, I never expected them to survive out here,”

“They’re persistent,” Amber says. “Stubborn,”

He stands. “Just like my people. Now what do you say we go find a way to challenge that Ghost Dog, eh? All that bedrest has made me eager to see battle,”

As they continue to walk, it dawns on her. To make it to Tyrian Gorge, they’ll have to go through the market. He must know, right? That sorrow no longer has a shop there? The last thing she wants to do is ruin the surprise, if it is one. He’s been cooped up half-dead, after all.

For a moment, Amber’s feet have wings. She picks up her pace and turns back to face him.

“Before we battle, there’s something else you should see,”

Dyvim raises an eyebrow. “By all means, then, Spellbinder— I’ll follow you,”

The guards stationed by the tunnel greet them, both unable to hide their excitement at seeing Dyvim out and about behind their professionalism. Amber steadies her pace to walk beside him as they step briefly into the dark.

Guiding them to the tunnel’s end is an even brighter sun than before.

Like Bastion, the fog that once coated Silent Market has now lifted. Stations manned by Goliaths are now occupied by Burrowers who have torn down any garish Umbra Legion memorabilia. Their wispy flags of war have been replaced by lush green banners strewn from tree to tree. All around, flora and fauna she now recognizes from her time in the Last Wood springs up alongside vendor’s tents.

A smattering of happy gasps and cheers emerge from those near the market’s entrance upon seeing them. While Amber eyes them, offering reserved nods in their direction, Dyvim takes in the sight of a flurry of butterflies weaving around his antlers. His gaze follows them as they flutter off toward a grand old tree shedding pink leaves.

“By Bastion…” he exhales.

The small crowd disperses to tend to their wares and shopping lists as Dyvim begins taking slow steps forward.

“This can’t be the same place we tracked down Zaltanna’s note in, can it? The greenery, the butterflies… I can barely believe it,”

“It’s very beautiful,” Amber offers, moving to follow him.

They inspect the series of doors where they once convened upon finding Zaltanna’s (Cornelius, at the time) red sash. Such a quest feels like ages ago. Amber has lost track of time quicker here in Khrysalis than she has in other worlds. It’s a phenomenon she can’t quite explain. Still, its been weeks. Months, even. So much has been done with so much left to do.

Dyvim stops suddenly, ears twitching upward. Amber steps around his tail as it stands straight out to move beside him. He begins taking slow steps toward the unoccupied homes that make up the edge of the market.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

“They’re gone,” he says after a moment. His tone is flat, which frustrates her a bit. Is this how people feel when speaking with her?

“Who’s gone?”

“The statues. The Crystal Statues I showed you the last time we were here.” he turns his head to look at her. “Don’t you remember? They were the souls of Burrowers trapped when Bastion fell. The ones caught in the Shadow Queen’s dark magic. The ones forced to… stay here forever,”

“I remember,” Amber murmurs.

And she does. She steps forward off the grass and onto the stone that once housed the crystals. When in this spot before, staring at the masses of jagged purple rock, her Necromancy had allowed her to sense the spirits of those trapped inside. Their message had been too haunting to share with him at the time.

Even to a soldier who has seen so much, their words were piercing. They hit her right where the wound of Azteca was fresh. Her composure falters for a moment as she shuts her eyes and presses her palm to the ground.

She can’t feel them anymore.

She thinks that’s a good sign, one that points to their spirits escaping, finally passing on. They were not at peace when forever-chained to the Silent Market. If anything, they gave it its namesake, one that no longer fits. And so, they had been liberated once Bastion was.

She can’t feel them anymore, but she remembers the words they shared with her: We are the dreamers. Not dead yet far from alive. But days ago we loved, felt dawn, and saw sunset glow.

The light peeking through the treetops warms the back of her hand. Carefully, Amber stands, staring down at the spot on the ground where nothing remains.

“Do you know what happened to them?” Dyvim asks.

“I think their souls are at peace now. They were able to see Bastion restored, which must have set them free. They can rest. They can finally rest,”

He nods, seemingly accepting that explanation. She doesn’t know how much weight those words would’ve carried had she not been the Spellbinder. It’s irrelevant, though, if it brings him some semblance of peace as well.

Another moment of silence passes between them before Dyvim speaks again. When he does, that wry smile has found a way back onto his face.

“I guess that means our next step is to finish what they started, yes?”

The heaviness of the spot dissipates as they step away from it, moving further into the vibrant market. After ascending a flight of stairs, the heavily guarded grand door to the gorge becomes visible, as does a waterfall and several more vendor tents.

Few patrons pay them any mind now. Amber can imagine they’re much more eager to shop again than they would be to stop and chat. Now that she thinks of it, though, she wouldn’t mind procuring a new ring or athame at random chance. Dyvim did mention Burrowers excelling in craftwork.

“Once the challenge is issued to Ghost Dog, you should come back and take a moment to enjoy all this,” she tells him.

“And you?” he counters.

“And me?”

“Do you ever get to reap the rewards of your heroics, Spellbinder? Reach out your hand and feel it, all the sunlight there is to bask in,”

“I’m sure the sun will beat down on me just as hard across the Starfall Sea,”

“But not in the same way as it does here,”

A sea of pink blossoms rain down over them as they pass under another grand tree. This one takes root in one of the waterfall pools. Dyvim stops to dip his feet into the water, beckoning for her to join him.

“You haven’t been encouraging me to rest like the king, you know,” he says.

Amber dips down to cup some of the bright blue water in her palms. It washes away the dust caked on them, revealing a series of scars and practically changing the shade of her skin.

“That would be hypocritical of me to do,” she says before splashing her face. “Like you said, I don’t reap my spoils,”

“How strange it is that the sounds of battle are more relaxing to us than the flow of a stream,”

Dyvim sinks down beside her, washing his own hands in the water. Amber quirks a brow up as she attempts to rub her cheek dry.

“It’s not surprising if you think about all I… we’ve been through. Individually,”

“I never said it was surprising. Just strange,” he stands up to catch a pink leaf before it goes spilling into the drink below. “I’ve never been able to fully enjoy the beauty of the Last Wood because of what its name implies. Last. Final. Close to extinction, needing protection. Every beautiful thing I see is a reminder of what could soon be lost,”

Amber stays hunched over, hands hung in the water. “I’m not going to let that happen, Dyvim. I’m going to do everything I can to stop it from happening,”

The peaceful smile on his face seems out of place to her. Every word he says is ripe with the horror of what could be, and yet here he is, playing with foliage like a child instead of a soldier. Just the thought of standing up straight exhausts her, let alone looking overjoyed about it. Now that she’s in this position, she may never be able to get out of it.

Still, Dyvim just gazes warmly down at her. Only when he lowers himself to her level again does his strength become observable. It hides in the curve of his smile, behind the temporary happiness in his eyes.

“Thank you for this , Spellbinder,”

“For this?”

“You have given me the chance to see the vibrant place my ancestors once called home. It’s a Bastion that, admittedly, some days I thought I’d never meet,”

“It’s… I have so much more to do,” she says, turning her cheek.

“We’ll do it together,”

“Dyvim—”

He laughs a bit before she can protest about prophecies and whatnot. “—as much of it as we can. Here, take these as a reminder. You’ll need them when you can’t remember what the world looks like beyond the bleakness of the gorge,”

Amber glances upward, her face still temporarily muddled by some combination of sorrow, embarrassment, and fatigue. Dyvim’s arm is outstretched and his palm wide open. In his hand sits one of the many pink leaves and an orange aurantiacus blossom he must’ve plucked earlier. She eyes them before taking them, as if they’ll bite. Then, she inspects them gently with her own hands.

“You said every beautiful thing you see is a reminder of what you could lose,” the orange petal melts slightly against a water droplet left on her palm. “Seeing Bastion like this doesn’t scare you?”

When she looks up at him, he’s already looking at her. “Seeing this is a different kind of beauty. It’s the kind that fills me with hope instead of fear,”

She holds his gaze then. Just for a second, though, before returning her attention to the gifts in her hand.

“They’ll never survive,” If anything, they’re already dead, torn off from their stems.

“They’re persistent,” Dyvim says. “And stubborn. Like someone else I know,”

At that, Amber stands, and he stands with her. She takes a moment to slip the foliage in between the pages of her tightly packed spell deck. By the time this is all over, if they still have this gorgeous world to enjoy, they’ll be perfectly pressed.

“You must be referring to yourself,” she manages a smile. Dyvim only shrugs, starting toward the grand door to the gorge.

“Maybe. Or maybe that’s just something we all have in common,”

#wizard101 fic #wizard101 #dyvim whitehart #wizzy fandom #wizard101 fanfiction #dyvwiz #the premise for this one slaps hard ngl..... i love u sm khrysalis <3 #every few months i just pop out a dyvwiz fic like clockwork

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joshualegendforge · 7 months

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Joshua Legendforge - Conjurer

I figured i should make an actual intro to my wizardsona, so here we go-

Joshua Legendforge was once a peculiar orphan boy living on Earth, having no memories from his childhood other than the fact that he was dropped off in some random orphanage when he was only ten years old. Although his memory from before then is a haze, he's been having strange dreams of a loving family living on a floating house, a dream that seems so familiar yet so strange at the same time...

Inevitably however, more and more odd occurrences start popping up around him - and it's not long before some unsavory creatures start following him around...

However, before he could be caught by one of these foreign monsters, he's whisked away into Wizard City, where he learns of his true origins as a child of Ravenwood graduates who had mysteriously disappeared one day along with him.

Its perhaps not the most inspired origin story for a wizard mc, but I've had this character rolling around in my drafts since I was like, a sophmore in high school. I got into wizard101 back then when I was in a dark point in my life, and I grew attached to the story I wrote about my own interpretation of the wizard's journey. And try as I might, I am still attached. You might have seen an old version of Joshua Legendforge's story floating around on Fanficton.net or A03 (it might be deleted by now) - I'm looking forward to rewriting it one day, and I'll be posting it on here sometime soon.

The two pets pictured are Nacho (the floating eyeball) - my current pet who has been hard carrying me through every world past Mooshu because of his broken as hell Humungofrog spell - and Violet, a myth sprite that Rattlebones (or Lady Blackhope I cant remember) dropped the first time I fought him. I like to picture her as his first pet - a sassy, constant figure throughout his journey that's just as likely to give him good advice as she is to tease him. She was a former attendant to Lady Oriel before being corrupted and turned into a Dark Sprite by Malistaire, becoming Rattlebones's right hand woman. After Rattlebones is defeated and the rest of the sprites return back to normal, she instead chooses to stay by Joshua's side - partly because she is grateful for saving her, and also because she had grown bored of the monotony of attending to Oriel's gardens.

#wizard101 #wiz101 #wizard101 fandom #wizard101 oc #wizard101 fanfiction #wizard101 fanart

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firewizahd · 2 years

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Forces Beyond Control - Chapter 3

Summary:

Somehow, Tabitha gets roped into Iridian’s nonsense after all.

link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37481323/chapters/103593312

#wizard101 #w101 #wiz101 #wizzy101 #wizard101 fanfiction #fanfic #iridian lionheart #tabitha seaweaver #tess writes

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wizardo-yo · 1 year

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hey y'all! the time has come!! i just finished a very short Wizard101 (and slightly Pirate101) fan game called Passageways!

in it, you retrace the steps of a lost adventuring group through a mysterious world and try to uncover what happened there

the link is here if you'd like to download and check it out for yourself!

#wizard101 #w101 #wizzy fandom #pirate101 #p101 #i don't even know what to tag this one as #game development #gamedev #i guess #unity3d #blender3d #also the game is free but if u wanna donate something thatd be p poggers :3c #imma be honest i say game but its more like interactive fanfiction #also okay so the footage is a little old bc i added a few changes to the decorations after recording and i didn't wanna re-edit the trailer #you know how it is #also special thankies to savethespiral for being my editor truly could not have done this without u

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anxiously-sidequesting · 7 months

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Wait so I know technology exists in the Spiral but like does Wizard City have phones. Like do our Wizards have any type of device of communication on them at all. Like how the fuck are we able to like know when anybody from out of our location needs us how do our notifications work. Is there like a Homing Pigeon System being funded somewhere or

#why havent i asked this question already this has been plaguing me for decades #thats like one of two reasons why i dont write wizard fanfiction because idk the fuck what im talking about #how do those ''wizard! come see me in my office!'' notifications on our screen work lorewise #are we just reading handwritten letters they sent us the night before? is it a little message in a bottle? telepathy??????#and like yeah i know technology exists in the nagic world but not in wizard city right. that place is strictly just amish /j #wizard101 #w101 #wiz101 #text posts

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dreaming-by-starlight · 1 year

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fanfiction is so weird like I COULD be writing it about the blorbos from my current hyperfixation but no I've two WIPs current and one is for the 2008 childrens mmorpg that I never even played until after I started writing the fic and the other is for an anime I watched in my edgy teen phase when I was first getting into anime. I do also have another WIP but it's a long term project that isn't a fic, its an original story that I'm writing using my DnD OCs.

#like i could be writing #wenclair #but instead i'm writing for #Wizard101 #w101 #pirate101 #tokyo ghoul #granted the MCs for the tokyo ghoul fic were sorta inspired by wenclair #anime #wednesday #ao3 #archive of our own #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #OCs #dnd #dungeons and dragons #5e

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worstdeathstudent · 11 months

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This was supposed to be posted on Pride Month but I'm bad at time management so you get to finally see it now. As for the art, I designed new outfits for these characters.

Aika was inspired by both lesbian flags and Calder was inspired by the rainbow flag. I hope everyone had a safe and happy Pride Month!

#wizard101 #wizzy fandom #wizzy101 #wiz101 #mellori #tasha lotusleaf #traditional art #aika kimura #calder #evan lotusleaf #fanfiction #ao3 #wizard101 art #wizzy art

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bangtanloverboys · 1 year

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electric help // jhs

summary - needing to refuel, you stop by the fairgrounds, only you suck at all the games. thank the spiral that an attractive storm student offers to help

pairing - wizard!hoseok x quester!reader

genre - fluff; wizard 101 au

word count - 1.9k

warnings - dip’s made up lore, cute flirting

guide - divination = storm magic; mana = magic; whisps = ways to earn mana and health

author’s note - again, last names for a reason. but enjoy this cute little one shot

the seven schools of ravenwood

Ever since Wizard City had fallen into chaos, students of Ravenwood were encouraged to fight off the creatures. Professors had used the opportunity to offer it as extra credit, gathering experience in battle. So like the rest of the school, you joined in, sticking to the streets of your home, Triton Avenue. You fought against the rotting fodders and scarlet screamers tooth and nail, but they kept coming and coming, pouring out of the Haunted Cave. It was a tireless cycle, leaving you constantly drained.

Low on mana and too tired to run around chasing whisps, you trudged over to the Fair Grounds. It was an easy way to fill up on mana and earn potion refills, making for easy health and mana recharging whilst away on quests.

Walking over towards a tent, you picked up a couple rings from the table. The game was easy enough, just toss all your rings onto an old glass bottle. You threw one, two, three rings out over the bottles but none caught on. You did the game again. Tossing the rings one, two, three and just barely hitting the bottle the third time. You let out a frustrated groan, hitting the wooden table as another three rings flew down towards you.

“Want some help?”

You threw your head around, meeting the eyes of a Storm student. You’ve seen him around before; hard to miss him with his black and purple hair. Not many people decided to rock multiple color combinations.

“This game is impossible,” you grumbled.

“Not really, there’s just a little trick to it,” the Diviner explained, taking the three rings. Sticking out his tongue and angling his arm at a particular position, he threw the first ring. It landed. He threw the second and the third, both landing on the bottles. “See?”

“Show off,” you grumbled as you folded your arms, eyeing him closely. “How did you do that?”

“I’m sorry, that’s a trade secret. Only my most trusted friends are told,” he smirked.

“How does one become one of your most trusted friends, pray tell?”

You saw a glimmer in his eyes, a bright spark of electricity that’s only seen in diviners as he held out his hand. “Shake my hand.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but you took his hand.

“Hoseok Thundershard, at your service.”

“Y/N Griffineyes.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said. “Now as one of my most trusted friends, you must promise to never tell another soul. Understood?”

“Understood,” you huffed with a smile. Sure he was a bit over the top but it was almost charming. Almost.

“Good. Now, you want to angle your arm to throw up, but only use your wrist to toss the ring. Like this.” As he spoke, he took the position again, flicking his wrist and sending the ring soaring.

“Is sticking your tongue out also a requirement?” You laughed, noticing how he had stuck his tongue out again.

“What? No, uh-” His cheeks turned red at your teasing. “That’s just a me thing,” he shyly confessed. “You try.” Hoseok took a step back, allowing you to take the second shot.

Taking the rings in hand, you tried to mimic his stance. With a flick of your wrist, you sent the ring flying. But instead of landing on the bottle, it hit the glass, tumbling to the ground.

“Stars!” You hissed.

“You’re doing it wrong, here.” Hoseok moved to stand behind you. Your breath hitched at the sudden closeness as he placed the ring into your hand. Gently, he wrapped his hand around your wrist, angling your arm and wrist. “Keep your wrist around hip level, and angle up. Try again.”

You tossed the ring again, this time the ring landed on the bottle. “I did it!”

“Yeah, you did!” Hoseok cheered.

“Thank you,” you smiled at him, feeling lighter than you were a few mere minutes ago.

“It’s no biggie.” He shrugged as the two of you left the tent, ready to refill your potions in the front. “The games can be a bit tricky, they say they’re not rigged but some definitely are.”

“You could say that again,” you chuckled airly. Both of you refilled your potions bottles, but if you were being honest, you weren’t quite ready to leave your new friend. “Say, do you want to. . . do something? Maybe?”

“What did you have in mind?”

You stuttered in your steps, remembering that there’s actually not that much to do nowadays. The Fireglobe Theatre has been closed for a few months now, and you didn’t exactly feel like challenging your new friend to a duel. . . “Wanna go fishing?”

There the two of you sat on the grassy area in the commons beside the pond, fishing poles in hand. It was a boring activity for sure, but at least it was somewhat relaxing.

“Gotta say, never really fished before but it’s peaceful. Nice way to unwind after everything,” Hoseok sighed blissfully.

“It is,” you agreed. “Picked up the habit ever since the streets started getting taken over.”

“What did you used to do?”

“Used to spend a lot of time at the theatre, watched a lot of the fire elf shows.”

“Do you live in Firecat Alley?” He asked, curious.

“No,” you shook your head. “Triton Avenue. I just have a love of theatre, plus Prince Alicane Swiftarrow puts on a great show. Why do you ask?”

“I grew up there. Thought I might’ve seen you around,” he answered. “But I do agree with you, Swiftarrow is a great actor as are the other fire elves.”

“Yeah,” you smiled, remembering one of the last shows the fire elves put on, A Comedy of Fizzles. “I gotta ask. . . do you stick out your tongue in battle too?”

The tips of Hoseok’s ears turned red, he kept his eyes trained on his fishing pole. “I uh, so I’ve been told. It’s stupid, I know. But it’s just a weird habit I’ve kept up.”

“I think it’s cute,” you winked at him.

His jaw dropped in shock, but before he could speak, his line started tugging. “Oh, stars!” He hissed as he started reeling in his line, fast as he could. “Come on. . . come on. . .” You watched on in excitement as he pulled in his catch. With one final pull, Hoseok yanked the fish out of the water, revealing a sharkspeare. “I- uh, wow!”

“Congrats, Hoseok!” You smiled as he summoned a bucket, placing his catch inside. “That’s impressive. You sure you haven’t fished before?”

“Completely, first ever catch!”

“I wish I was that lucky,” you sighed, feigning jealousy.

Overhead, the ringing of the curfew bell sounded. You lost track of time, just now noticing how low the sun hung in the sky.

“Oh, guess I’ll see you around then?” You asked as you stood up, gathering your fishing supplies in your hands.

“Of course, you’re now one of my most trusted friends, afterall,” he chuckled, picking up his catch of the day. “If you ever need help with anything, fair games or battles, feel free to call me,” he said as he handed you something. It was a communication ring.

“I will.” You nodded. “See you around!” You said as you headed back towards the dormitory, whilst Hoseok directed himself towards the Shopping District.

“Later!”

Unfortunately, you don’t manage to see Hoseok again or find a need to call him. You sucked yourself into your studies, fearing falling behind, especially since you were so close to transferring to Krokotopia. You didn’t think about going back out to battle. But you did think about calling him; of maybe asking him to join you on one of your study days (he was a diviner, maybe he could spare a few tips and tricks). But instead, you kept to yourself, only looking down at the ring longingly.

Until one evening it started to glow.

“Y/N? Are you there?” Hoseok’s voice emanated through the purple stone, sounding frantic.

“Yeah, what’s going on?”

“Uh, got myself in a bit of a pickle, to say the least,” he huffed as the familiar crackling sounds of magic and lightning were heard behind him. “Sohomer asked me to help with the. . . Kraken issue going on. I’m running low on mana, think you could help me out?”

You didn’t even need to think twice. Grabbing your spell deck and wand, you twisted the ring around your finger, teleporting you to Hoseok’s location. Swirlings of dust and lightning swirled around you, consuming your vision. Just as soon as it appeared, the dust fell away, revealing Hoseok facing off the Kraken in battle, the everpresent thunder clouds of Triton Avenue overhead.

Immediately, you ran towards Hoseok, taking place beside him on the battle sigil. In front of you was the fearsome Kraken that lived in the caves beneath the city. You’d spent most of your childhood admiring the creature whenever it crawled out from its hiding place between Four Falls Mills so to see it up close was both terrifying and awe inspiring. If it wasn’t actively trying to kill your friend, you would’ve thought it a thing of beauty.

“How in all of the Spiral, did you end up here?” You shouted, pulling out your spell deck.

“Sohomer asked me to do a favor and that led to another favor, and another favor. . .” He responded, summoning another spark, barely hitting the creature. “Been using no mana spells to try and break it down bit by bit, but I need a heavy hitter. . . I don’t have enough for it myself!”

Eyeing through your deck, you knew exactly what spell to cast, but you’d need to build up to it in order for it to take down the Kraken. With a wave of your wand, you drew out the scales of your school, and a Balance blade formed over your head, circling around you.

After your turn, the creature waved his hand, the divination symbol appearing in front of him. A thunderous cloud formed overhead, screeching echoed as three lightning bats appeared out of the darkness, swirling around Hoseok. He let out a grunt as he covered his head, trying to cover himself from the attack.

“Any time now would be appreciated!”

“Alright!” Once it was your turn again, you waved your wand, summoning the Judgment. The seraph flew out from the center of the battle sigil, sword and scales in hand. You and Hoseok stared up at her with baited breath as she clanged her sword against the scales, sparking at the Kraken. The creature wailed, falling back at the hit before crawling back into its cave. Defeated.

Both of you stood there for a moment, panting in the aftermath of the battle.

“I hope. . . whatever Sohomer needed was worth all that.”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Hoseok held up a fully charged storm crystal.

You looked at one another, quiet before both of you bursting into tired laughter. “Well. . . guess we could cross the Kraken off our bucket lists,” you huffed as you and Hoseok started back towards the exit portal, back towards the Storm Mill.

“You could say that again,” Hoseok chuckled. “But you really saved me back there, thank you.”

You gave a shrug. “You would’ve done the same for me.”

“Tell you what: after Sohomer gives me that reward, we head to the fairgrounds. I think we deserve some time off.” He shot you a wink as he spoke.

Feeling heat rush to your cheeks, you nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

#btsghostie #jung hoseok x reader #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x gender neutral reader #bts x gender neutral reader #hoseok x gender neutral reader #bts wizard au #wizard hoseok #wizard101 au #hoseok fanfiction #bts fanfiction

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glupshittostan · 4 months

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back on my wizzy writing bullshit!!

savior of the spiral is the latest installation of amy’s yw adventures. she finally defeats malistaire but it isn’t what she expected.

partially based on this post by @gaychaoswizard about the trauma the yw probably goes through upon killing for the first time. delicious!

#wizard101 #wizzy fandom #fanfiction #writing #og #fanfic #Malistaire drake #young wizard #Cyrus drake #wizzy oc #I <3 my fucked up prodigy myth wizard she deserves a break I think. too bad she’s probably not getting one

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oldestenemy · 7 months

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fuck it, meowiarty at wizard graduation

#wizard101 #wizard101 fanfiction #wizard101 fanfic #wizard101 fic #i am having an excellent time #lark is still playing funky wizard game from their childhood #scion series is going great why do you ask

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dyvimwhitehart · 9 months

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all the skeletons you hide

A dark power doesn’t automatically mean a dark hand. He knew this long before meeting the Spellbinder, but seeing her wield the same magic as the Shadow Queen in such a noble way only cemented his beliefs further. or, The Wizard and Dyvim Whitehart find themselves at a dark kitchen table, unable to sleep the night before traveling to the Kondha Desert. READ ON A03 FOR ADDITIONAL COMMENTS.

Dyvim wakes up with his hand instinctively placed on the hilt of his sword.

Immediately, he looks for a Goliath. An Apiary guard. A mantis wielding her scythe. Any kind of bug to accompany the chittering in his ear, but there’s nothing. The room is empty, save for him and the bed in which he lays. A moment passes before he begins fiercely rubbing at his eyes to come back to the present.

That damned chittering is still there.

Dyvim pulls himself from bed, moving slowly across the floor to what he assumes is a window. There is a sliver of dark orange light peeking from behind a curtain. Carefully, he lifts it— anticipating the worst. What he’s met with is a limited view of two mantises battling a block or two away under the dim sky.

It hits him then, all at once: he and the Spellbinder are in the city of Sardonyx.

Under the request of both Zaltanna and Ezekiel the Lucent, Zarozinia the Deathsong had arranged for them to stay in an unoccupied home (its owners having all moved to the Hive) for the night to conserve energy before breaching the Kondha Desert at sunrise.

The chittering is a result of the city’s now-uncovered Fifth Column members clashing with those loyal to the Umbra Legion. Such battles would not have been possible without the Spellbinder’s good work. Dyvim drops the curtain, briefly wondering if she’s succeeded so far in sleeping through the night. He can’t think of anyone who deserves a quick rest more.

But, if he had to pick a runner up for that position, he’d pick himself.

“By Mourningsword,” he murmurs. “Pull yourself together,”

Before waking, he’d been trapped in that tomb again, only this time he was wide awake. As his fists pounded against the amber that encased him, the bees taunted him from above, their eyes beadier and crueler than he remembered. They were joined then by the Broodmother, who uttered no words and opted instead to scream at a pitch so loud he thought he might go deaf. Her warped voice grew more and more hysteric the harder he worked to free himself.

And then he was running down the Moon Cliffs at full speed. His armor, however, was so heavy he began to sag to the ground. One limb at a time, Dyvim fell to the dirt, his head the last thing to remain unbowed before dropping into the sand. He continued to try and scramble despite this, all-too aware of the sound of a Goliath gnashing its pincers in the distance, ready to tear him apart in the name of the Shadow Queen. In the distance, the Eclipse Tower began to crumble into the lake.

But soon he came to in a cell. All around him, the Broken Tower shook with what he could only justify as some kind of earthquake. Roze the Mousehunter, by name, paid no attention to him this time. This blossomed not hope, but deep confusion within him. As he stepped to the edge of his prison, fingers wrapping around the bars, he saw her far across the room moving at an absolutely erratic pace. Once his ears caught up with the rest of his body, he heard it: the unmistakable sound of a Burrower wailing for help, accompanied by the repeated strike of a scythe.

Finally, when he thought he could go back no further in his journey, he was a statue. He stood still in the Silent Market, accompanied only by the others who had been turned to stone. Who had failed to escape when the Shadow Queen’s dark magic swept over their land. His ancestors were safe, but they would bear no heroic descendant. And the more he attempted to move, to scream— the quieter things became.

Awake now, he takes special care to listen to his breathing.

Though he is proud to be the sworn sword of the king sent across the sea, Dyvim can’t help but wonder if simply being in Sardonyx had triggered such horrific scenes. Then again, this isn’t an uncommon occurrence. It's just one he’d rather have an explanation for. That makes it easier to press on.

He remembers then, a hand to his chest to feel his heartbeat, that he’d purposefully fallen asleep with his armor on. Call it a force of habit from the nights he and the Spellbinder would spend camping in caves and at the bases of trees. Though he is fortified, he lacks comfort, and one glance in the direction of his bed confirms to him that he won’t be falling back under anytime soon.

His nose twitches. His stomach growls. He wonders if those traitorous mantises left any food behind.

With his sword still at the ready, Dyvim gingerly opens the door to the common area, anticipating an equally quiet scene. What he finds is a candle on the kitchen table, still burning. Curious, he approaches it. A sheet of paper is illuminated by the light. Before he can make out the symbols scrawled upon it, he hears a soft, yet concerned voice.

“Dyvim?”

He looks up to see the Spellbinder’s silhouette approaching. The closer she gets, the easier it is to make out her face. Her dark brows are knit in what could be interpreted as frustration, maybe even anger— but Dyvim knows her well enough to see the worry in her eyes. To avoid intruding, he takes a step back from her work.

“Forgive me. I thought you may be asleep,”

“And I thought the same of you,” she says simply.

“Then it appears we both thought wrong. I think that makes us even, don’t you?”

He thinks he sees the flicker of a smile ghost across her face as she takes her seat.

“May I sit?”

“Of course,”

A sense of relief floods him as he pulls another chair out. Not that she has the authority to send him back to bed, but he’d be disappointed if she didn’t want his company. And that disappointment alone would’ve at least been enough to send him to the other end of the room.

They sit in silence for a moment. He watches intently as she waves a hand, causing a pen to rise into the air. She continues her notetaking in this hands-off way, a small section of brunette hair cascading from the braid she hasn’t bothered to fix in hours. It frames the one side of her face sweetly, accentuated by the candlelight.

Its been a long road to this point. Dyvim admitted to himself ages ago that he felt some kind of yearning when he saw her. Those feelings have little place in their current set of affairs, however. It would be deeply unfair of him to unload that on her when her plate is so unimaginably full already.

Still, in moments like this, his courtly nature almost falters. They’re hidden away from the world they have to save. If not for the sparring on their doorstep, maybe it could all melt away in the depth of her eyes.

“What are you sketching?” he asks, a selfish attempt to hear her voice, to delve into her thoughts.

Her gaze reaches him for a moment before returning to her work. “It's not so much sketching as it is… studying.”

“Ah, well then, may I ask what you’re studying?”

She hesitates, the pen hovering in midair for a moment.

“Shadow magic,”

Amber doesn’t so much as slide the paper toward him as she does move her arm in a way that he can see it if he wants to. With the added context, he recognizes the Shadow symbol immediately, accompanied by what he thinks is the symbol for Necromancy. He’s seen her draw and cast it many times before.

She seems like she’s waiting for him to say something, like she’s holding her breath. Dyvim keeps from pouring over the paper and gives a nod.

“Its been some time now since you captured the Eclipse Tower. How are you feeling?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m not a spellbinder myself. Maybe I’m just making an assumption here, but I’d imagine wielding such powerful magic has somewhat of a physical and mental impact. Especially…”

“Dark magic?”

He blinks, not wanting to imply anything. There simply isn't any other way to put it. But a dark power doesn’t automatically mean a dark hand. He knew this long before meeting the Spellbinder, but seeing her wield the same magic as the Shadow Queen in such a noble way only cemented his beliefs further. One of his ears twitches, and he shakes his head.

“I didn’t mean—”

“It is dark magic, you’re correct. That’s why it’s important for me to seek to understand it further.”

There’s an unspoken end to her words that hang heavy in the air. Something akin to… so I don’t end up corrupt and vile like Morganthe . It occurs to him then that he may have a deeper faith in her than she has in herself. Dyvim sits up a little taller, each second they spend together making his role in all this clearer. He’s always been there to stand beside her, even when he didn’t think she needed him. Now it’s becoming apparent that she does. Not because she’s weak, but because she’s a tad too strong.

His eyes are still heavy, but he fears another chapter of the nightmare: venturing to the end of this world just to lose her to the destruction of them all.

“You are still a student, yes? Back in your home world?”

“I am,” she begins writing again. “But not a classic one. My studies are more… field work based. I’m rarely ever in a classroom. Hence, well, my being here now.”

“Are your teachers reasonably lenient with you? Considering all the world-saving,” he attempts to joke.

“Well, my Necromancy professor usually can’t keep track of the days of the week, let alone my work. And there’s one who is on the Council of Light that guides me, so I suppose she reports back to the rest,” Before he can respond, she speaks again, causing his ears to jump. “They don’t offer Shadowmancy at Ravenwood,”

“Because it’s a dark magic?”

She wiggles her fingers in his direction, causing the pen to spike up and down. “It’s entirely forbidden,”

“So what shall they do when you are set to return to them?”

“You say that so optimistically,”

“I am optimistic,”

Amber shrugs. “I guess I would have a bone to pick with them if they refused to let me graduate after all I’ve done. But I don’t seek their approval, necessarily. I just seek… whatever I have to do to stop the Song of Creation from being sung. And if that means becoming a Shadowmancer…”

She has little choice now, it appears. Actually, it sounds like she’s always had little choice. This Council of Light she speaks of does most of her decision making. In a way, she is their sworn sword. Perhaps it’s an honor for her like it is for him under King Pyat. But when he speaks of the king, he never sounds so exhausted.

“So how does it feel? You never answered me,” He pushes the envelope only because she’s been more open tonight so far than ever. Dyvim blames it on the combination of fatigue, duty, and candlelight.

“You’re asking me a lot of questions tonight,”

The knight in him wants to step back, to bid her goodnight alongside an apology. But the heart in him…

“Would you rather I not?”

“Why are you interested? If you aren’t a spellbinder yourself,” the word rolls off her tongue almost teasingly. Perhaps he’s taking this more seriously than she is.

“Because you are my… companion. And I, yours. And if this weighs heavily upon you, I wish to help you carry the burden. It’s no secret to me how those who occupy this land view the Shadow. It’s unfair of them to view you similarly when you are only here to help,”

It’s not until he finishes rambling that he sees the small smirk across her face. She brushes that loose section of hair back behind her ear before returning to her work. He doesn’t dare to wonder if the warmth across her cheeks is simply heat from the fire, or…

“It makes me dizzy when I use it. Or when I’m struck by it. Like I’ve got a cloudy head, or I’m about to pass out…” she begins tracing the Shadow symbol again upon her paper. “The better I get at it, the less it impacts me. But it does feel heavier than my Death magic. My trip through the Eclipse Tower wasn’t exactly relaxing. Sofia Darkside is an exceptional, but brutal teacher,”

His skin itches, still touched somewhat by the tomb the bees had placed him in— the coffin he’d been cheering her on from, whether she knew it then or not.

“You have an exceptional gift,” Dyvim continues to speak before she can accuse him of buttering her up extra. “All heroes are powerful, but not all of them are smart. That’s what sets you apart. Your desire to understand and respect your magic,”

“I’ve been trusted with it. It’s only my responsibility to do so,”

A task many have failed, he thinks. His desire to bring up the Shadow Queen again, however, is nonexistent.

Apparently tired of having the heat on her, Amber sets her pen down completely and turns to face him. “What about you?”

“What about me are you asking?”

“You know what’s keeping me awake. It’s only fair that you tell me why you’re up. If we’re to stay even, that is.”

Dyvim shakes his head, scooting his chair back slightly. “Ah, well, before you captivated me, I was looking for a midnight snack,”

Her eyes widen, giving him the impression that he may have stood up a bit too hastily. He glances from side to side before realizing his sword is still in his hand. As if she can’t see it, he sets it down on the table and turns to head for the other end of the kitchen.

“I suppose those mantises wouldn’t have good enough taste to keep some aged cheese around, eh?”

The Burrower knight opens a cabinet, nose twitching wildly, searching for a scent. The Spellbinder continues watching him from her seat with no intention of moving.

“Dyvim,”

“I suppose we could try our luck with the market in the morning, stock up on food for the desert. It would be horrible to end up with only the meat-eaters’ menu available.”

“Dyvim, I get them too,”

He stalls then before an open drawer. Her eyes bore into his back, rendering his armor useless. Slowly, he turns to face her, ears drooping and eyes soft. She’s similarly vulnerable, a state normally so difficult to unearth.

“You do?”

Amber laughs, though there’s no real amusement in it. “I do. It would be concerning if I didn’t when you consider… what I’ve seen. What I’ve done,”

Dyvim wonders how many people would guess that about her. A Death wizard’s heart being set to race in the dark doesn’t sound right. And she’s so composed, so straight-faced and unafraid. He’s not unwise enough to fall into such a trap, but can see many interpreting her as above such a thing. But she suffers those nightmares face-to-face so they won’t have to, those endless people she’s saved.

Like her, he suffers for generations of people he will never meet. The long dead, the never born, the gone too soon— any and all of the Burrower ghost statues that give the Silent Market its name. The misery of his people compounds on his brain and, on occasions like this, keep him up at night.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear,” his tail falls between his legs.

“And I didn’t mean to dance around it. But I sleep with my wand on me. In times like this, it’s hard to tell what’s real and what isn’t,”

“Until you wake up,” he glances at her face, at each feature in the dim light. “And even then, it takes a moment.”

The Spellbinder nods. Her eyes are weighed down by hours of rest she hasn’t gotten. Whether she even tried to sleep or not is a mystery to him, but he approaches the table again, hand nearing the base of the candle.

“Can I help you, Spellbinder? In any way? Perhaps if I keep watch, like before,”

“You mean sit out here?”

“Wherever you need me. At the table, the foot of your bed…”

She stands, looking around the room before wordlessly crossing it. Dyvim watches her take a seat on a couch beside another window bleeding dark orange light from the Sardonyx sky.

“Or we could both sit here. And I’ll… try to close my eyes,”

Dyvim picks his sword up and joins her. At first, he takes the far side, but as Amber settles her legs on the latter end, he scoots closer so she’ll have a place to rest her head. She accepts his shoulder despite the armor covering it. He’s stoic to start, but upon growing accustomed to her weight, exhales and sinks further into the plush of the cushions himself.

They don’t speak beyond that. There isn’t much to say, or much they feel they can do without inviting complication. Instead, she does just as she said she would, shutting her eyes and focusing on leveling out her breathing.

Like this, she looks cherubic. She looks the antithesis of what the public would assume an apprentice of dark magic to be. She looks so tired, so young.

And Dyvim supposes he is the same, though he stays up the rest of the night, hand ghosting her forearm though his sword sits beside him.

#wizard101 #wizard101 fic #dyvim whitehart #wizzy fandom #wizard101 fanfiction #just realized i never posted this here.... lol

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