#magickless

[twis-world]

The Remedy That Is You (Riddle Version)

Mentions: Fluff, Riddle-Centric, Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader

No matter how many a time the students of Nightraven College witnessed how their Housewarden did a complete 180 in your presence, it never ceased to amaze them.

It eventually got to the point where a majority of students began to question if you really were magickless. There was just no way your mere presence could bring out such light in their eyes, face softening and a smile so tender it was as if they were gazing upon one of the Seven.

Just how did you do it?

Riddle

“You imbecile!” Riddle’s voice boomed, echoing all throughout Heartslabyul. Fear set into all who heard it, a chain reaction flowing through their bodies as their hearts beat quicker, palms growing clammy in a cold sweat. No matter how many times their beloved Housewarden proved that he had changed, that he was no longer the cruel tyrant they all once feared, it did not stop the utter terror that ran through them when they did succeed in trying his patience.

Especially when it concerned the prized animals they cared for.

“Have I not made it clear several times that you are not to directly hit the hedgehogs?” Riddle continued to scream, face flaming red as he cradled the delicate creature in his arms. Whether or not the poor thing was shaking of its own account or fear of the one holding it was to be determined, but it mattered not with all eyes on the beholder. “Are you so dense that you cannot remember something as simple as that?”

“Housewarden Riddle,” the victim stuttered. It was a first-year clearly, face deathly pale and looking as if his soul would leave his body any moment in a fit of desperation. Anything to get away from such a ghastly scenario. “I-I…I swear it was a-a-an accident-”

“How do you accidentally do such a thing?” Riddle snapped back, nearly frothing at the mouth as he marched forward into the other’s space. The surrounding students gasped, taking a step back in turn and preparing for the inevitable as his hand noticeably itched for his pen. The first-year clearly noticed as well, eyes bulging and feet shifting in preparation to run if need be. “Even so, there is no room for such impertinence. Why, I should have your head for that!”

“Riddle?”

The effect was almost instant.

The speed at which the male stepped back was almost inhuman, head snapping back so quickly a few flinched at the thought of such inevitable whiplash. The snarl on his lips dropped, not taking on a smile but smoothing out the lines his earlier scowl created. In fact, the only evidence of his incredible fury from but a moment ago was the ever present brightness of his face, taking its time in ever so slowly draining away.

Then, they saw it.

The moment you managed to break through the crowd, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly agape as you surveyed the situation, the sharpness in his gaze disappeared. It was almost comical how instantly his pupils blew, nearly overtaking the storm in his eyes. Some swore that if it were possible hearts would most definitely be shining from his orbs, beating in tune with the one confined by his mortal body yet still promised to you.

Great Seven, the way he greeted you as well. It nearly ached how tenderly a soft ‘My Rose’ escaped from his lips, and it was then they all knew that in his mind the rest of the world faded away until all that lay within it was you.

“Ace nearly gave me a heart attack when he blew up my phone, spewing nonsense of a bomb about to blow the whole of the dorm,” you gently teased, stepping towards him with such ease despite the still shaking of Riddle’s body. Yet, as you placed a delicate hand on his arm, the tremors all but disappeared. “Guess he wasn’t that far off for once.”

The red fury on his face was now one of shame and embarrassment, tucking his head down and staring as he gently calmed the still shaking hedgehog. “He exaggerates…” he nearly mumbled, refusing to look up at the gentle smile you were giving him. 

You stared at him with the same fondness he just had moments ago, thumb softly rubbing against his arm. Words could not explain the relief they all felt when you looked up at them all and nodded your head back to the main dorm building, silently giving them permission to finally escape.

At the sound of their retreat Riddle’s head shot up, confusion evident. “Who gave you all permission to leave?” he called out, stepping out of your grasp and staring at their retreating backs. If his hands weren’t occupied you were sure he would be waving them in a blind fury. “Come back! You have yet to-”

“Riddle,” you interrupted, cupping his face in your hands and turning his gaze to you instead. It was a miracle that he had yet to pass out, blood still continuously rushing to his face as he had no choice but to lock eyes with you. Fingertips caressed under his eyes, exaggerated breathing from you goading him to follow with, not once turning away. Not daring to escape the land you’ve trapped him in.

He didn’t know how much time passed, just the two of you standing there and the animal in his arms long since passed out, nor did he care. Just your touch alone was enough to soothe his soul, your gaze and sweet words were simply a bonus that he thought himself unworthy of, yet here he was.

“There we go,” you cooed, dropping your hands but not once breaking contact from his face. Down his cheeks that you held for a moment, nails barely scraping down his neck in tune with the pleasant shiver it sent down his spine, dancing across his shoulders and tickling his waist before coming to a stop there. “Why don’t we sit and enjoy some tea to help calm you down more, hm?”

“It’s not yet past the lunch hour,” he responded, yet almost drunkenly. “Rule 148 states-” The small burst of laughter that left you was enough to shut him up, watching as your head tilted back and shined even brighter than the sun that warmed you both. He decided that he really didn’t want you to stop anytime soon. “Though…though I suppose I could make an exception…”

A few more chuckles rang, and you gave him another playful smile along with a gentle squeeze. “How kind.”

Yes, yes you really were quite magical.

#fun fact this was supposed to have riddle AND malleus but my lazy ass settled with this #sorry yall #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #x reader #gender neautral reader #x gender neutral reader #disney twisted wonderland #fluff #riddle #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts

[heranubis]

gift for @rocksinmuffin! another twst (and lilia) fan<3

due to a tumblr glitch - this was posted instead of saved. working on finishing this asap.

5 signs you're dating a vampire (by the great grimm)

sign 1 (one): tends to avoid sunlight (like. a lot)

another day in ramshackle dorm, another day of the student body marching through like an endless parade that actually lives there. normally Grimm minds a fair amount (the prefect is His magickless servant, not theirs!) - but today he's Extra grumpy about it.

today was the designated (self-appointed) nap day between him and you. he always gets a small can of tuna (and belly scratches!) but... naturally, that all flew out the window the very second Lilia flew in.

decorated with a black, lacy parasol (something that looks delicate and old) and he refuses to put it away until every window is closed and curtain drawn. the very second the last sliver of light disappears, so does the parasol. naturally - avoiding sunlight isn't Always suspicious, but this is Lilia Vanrouge. everything he does is suspicious (according to Grimm, anyways).

the diasomnia member simply giggles as he usually does and waves grimm's concerns away with a flippant hand. "i don't do well in the sun. i burn very easily~"

the cat gives him a suspicious look before running up to his own room in the dorm. he was going to nap - regardless if lilia wanted to drop by and avoid sunlight. it's been a long day and he's sure you would yell for help if it was needed.

(unspoken is how he lingers just outside the doorway, sleeping while an ear remains perked - just in case.)

sign 2 (two): he refuses to eat garlic (slight agreement there)

garlic, by any means, is far from grimm's favorite seasoning - it makes his nose itch. so when lilia comes over for dinner (the 91th time this month alone), he barely notices when the older student gently rejects any offers of Anything that even smells remotely of garlic.

"ah," he sighs - seemingly tired as if he's answered this question a million times before - "i'm simply... allergic to garlic. it doesn't particularly agree with me."

grimm vaguely remembers adeuce talking about Something (symptoms of some disease) and a few things caught his attention. things lilia did. he thinks they called it vampirism.

you'd gotten onto him several times now about jumping to conclusions, so he sat silently at the table (eyes never leaving lilia) as the student joked and giggled. it was totally normal and fine for someone to not like garlic - but the more grimm thought about it the more suspicious he got.

sign 3 (three): never wears silver (from what's been observed - thank you, r.h.)

sign 4 (four): has no reflection!!! Ever!!!!

perhaps inlisting the help of one rook hunt wasn't the brightest idea - he was terrifying and always manage to make grimm jump a few feet in the air. but he was also the best at observing others - often while remaining unseen himself.

therefor, he was the perfect choice for what the cat had in mind. a big tell of vampirism was avoiding silver - something about it burning their skin. and while lilia didn't often wear jewelry - he Had been spotted sporting it when dressed up for a holiday, school event, or something to do with his club. (rook even mentioned one time about him doing something called 'cosplay' with idia.)

sure, some people looked better in different metals, but Everyones worn silver at least once. and the fact lilia seemed to avoid it only made grimm more suspicious.

(naturally, what the little monster Didn't see was lilia waving in a friendly manner to rook - who was lounging in a tree, within perfect sight of his 'prey'.)

the mirrors in ramshackle dorm were old and busted and dirty. but he also knew there was one the prefect used quite often - the one in their bedroom. grimm could never use it, as it sat too high for him to feel comfortable climbing towards. but... on lilia's more frequent visits - that was the only mirror he seemed to use.

sign 5 (five): mysterious red stains that he never bothers to explain

and it was once (only once) grimm was in the room when lilia was using the mirror. he was re-applying what the prefect later explained to be eye-liner - something that could be done without a mirror but it was easier to see your reflection.

when grimm looked up at said mirror being used, he saw no reflection. no eyes, no nose, nothing on lilia's person was reflected back. only vampires had no reflection - every other creature in twisted wonderland had a reflection (this grimm knew for a fact.)

he'd barely rambled out some excuse before bolting from the room - haunted by lilia's giggles as the vampire older student went back to finishing his eye-liner.

the final nail in the coffin for grimm was when he would show up with random red stains peppering his white undershirt (red! red stains!)

sign 6 (six): he has a biting problem (written and scribbled out by the prefect)

the prefect always brushed it off with a light scolding to be more careful next time, meanwhile lilia would just give them a secretive little smile.

grimm is more firm in his beliefs now. he can say with absolutely no room for doubt - lilia vanrouge is a vampire. perhaps even the only one in twisted wonderland.

lilia is just a regular fae who is more expressive in his affections - he has sharp teeth and likes to nibble. garlic smells too strong to anyone with heightened senses (see: beastmen and other fae). he does wear silver but only on special occassions.

the old mirror in the prefects room is imbued with an old magick, it only reflects mortal souls. if malleus, crowley, or even sebek were to look into it - there would also be no reflection.

lilia has a pale complexion and does burn easily - he's also just a fan of pastel gothic fashions and when not attending lessons (in his own free time) tries to incorporate pieces of the style into his wardrobe around campus.

the stains, however, are blood. lilia's fangs are sharp and he's not always gentle with his bites. but far as anyone else is concerned - its just ketchup or wine.

#heranubis #twisted wonderland #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #gift fic #suggestive

[the-down-upside-finch]

Wait wait wait I want to ramble about magic stuff in my stories because I use the same magic system for most of my stories (since they take place in the same world).

Okay. So. I'm realizing that this goes way deeper in terms of context, so I'm gonna briefly go over some of the basics:

In this world, there is currently a categorization known as the "Main Categories of Species," which is the one most commonly used by scholars when writing about species. There are other ways of categorizing, but this one is the most accepted one (but it is common knowledge that this system is not perfect).

There are eleven categories in the MCoS: Aves, Beasts, Daemon Creatures, Drakonines, Elementals, Faerie Creatures, Intangibles, Magicks, Merrow, Therianthropes, and Therianthrosomatikos (that last one is the main issue with this current system).

I'm not going to go into depth with these right now but. There is a lot of worldbuilding that has gone into this haha.

I'm just gonna discuss a bunch of smaller things that I think would be fun to mention.

Magic has a unique color for everyone that can use it. Some colors may be similar to each other, but no two magicians have the exact same color of magic. (And family members tend to have similar colors of magic as each other!)

Beings that use magic/are in possession of magic are known as magicians, as that's just the umbrella term for it. Beings without magic are usually referred to as Magicklesses.

Witches/warlocks and wizards are two completely separate types of magicians. Witches/warlocks use physical space to store magic (like in big hats or pockets), while wizards need channelers (like wands or staves) to use magic.

Mages also exist. They need crystals to help channel their magic, and their magic is by far the most easily affected by emotions.

Emotions are tied to magic to the point that some magic is literally dependent on a magician's emotional state. It can make it easier or more difficult, which is why there is a lot of training for magicians on how to understand your own emotions.

Alchemy is not a very popular practice because in order to get a license, you have to go through very intense training with a mentor. This involves ingesting every single thing you learn to make before you are allowed to learn how to make it. Yes, you have to ingest poison in order to learn the recipe to make it. That's the law.

Sorcerers exist, and they're the ones with animal bondeds/"familiars"! This animal companion is what allows them to properly channel their magic.

Pixies, sprites, and fairies are all different species. Pixies and fairies are the small ones (around 5-6 inches tall), but fairies can decompress their magic and become human-sized (but fairies cannot fly while they are human-sized). Sprites are always "human-sized."

Pixies and fairies have wing structures like butterflies, while sprites have wings like dragonflies. But sprites keep their wings invisible unless they either don't have enough magic to do this (which means they are probably close to dying) or they are around someone they trust.

One of the traits of Faerie Creatures is that their magic is their life-source. If their magic is depleted and/or separated from them, they will die. This is why unicorns fall into this category.

Elves are descended from plants. Instead of hair, they have foliage. They have root systems instead of veins, and they really only need water and sunlight to survive (with a few exceptions). Consuming salt is almost certainly fatal.

The main trait of Therianthropes is that they have two main forms. They possess a particular energy level that they must maintain to achieve their alternate form, and their energy levels directly correlate with the lunar cycles, corresponding to how full the moon is.

Dragons, or anyone with dragon blood, cannot knowingly tell lies.

Merfolk have both gills and lungs, but their lungs are not necessarily strong enough for extended use above water. In terms of biology, merfolk born with female traits have stronger lungs, which is why sirens tend to only be female.

Merfolk and other species of Merrow use signed languages to communicate, since spoken modes of language don't work very well underwater.

Speaking of merfolk, it's considered scandalous for males to show too much skin. Seriously, you can get dress-coded in school for having your shoulders exposed.

Silvertongues are beings that can speak to all animals that use a language-like system of communication. However, dragons purposefully made their languages too complex for silvertongues to understand.

Nixies are shapeshifters, but if you can get one to tell you their name, you'll have full command over them until you give the name back. Usually this requires a trade of some sort, either in the form of a favor or some sort of item. (e.g., someone could steal a nixie's name and make a deal that the nixie has to slay a dragon or something in order to get their name back.)

Nixies are heavily discriminated against in most parts of the world. They are used as servants (because of the whole command thing) or straight-up imprisoned and executed. Because of this, nixies do not typically reveal themselves.

I realize this turned more into "random facts about the species in my magical world" but still. That was fun to ramble.

Invoking the taglist in case you guys are interested in this stuff: @my-cursed-prince, @athenswrites

#Zeta Rambles #About the OCs #Long Post #cw death #cw insects #cw poison #I have two main worlds with systems of magic but this is the one that most of my stories use

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

The idea of Yuu separating the twins from fighting by, like, holding the back of their collars is, like, so much funnier to me picturing Yuu being my height(155cm aka about 5’1) and holding the nearly two flippin meters tall twins apart or dragging them by their ears. They’re short but that just means the anger/annoyance/bad feelings have less room to move around and it’s more compact. Just imagine two giants who every other students fear being scolded by the tiny(shrimp sized) magickless first year with not an ounce of fear and not holding back at all.

Side note. I am an adult. A 20 year old. I am 5’1 as of right now. I was even shorter when I was 16, aka, roughly the first years’ ages(I’m pretty sure) so I’m also imagining that but with a tiny person who isn’t even 5 feet tall.

Let Yuu be a feral chihuahua

They're on their knees as you "hold" them apart

#not writing #not requests

[jupiterj0]

#it’s hilarious bc it could be black clover or mashle #also I don’t think Asta is neurodivergent #he’s definitely got some ADHD tho #it’s mashle tho #mashle #black clover #mash burnedead #magic and muscles #anime shitpost #anime

[anxious-reblogger]

Mmmmmm. I’m writing this before hand in my notes app so I can keep it for later. What if for chapter 7, Yuu is (one of the ones(maybe more? Idk)) the one who is put to sleep by Malleus? He loves his child of man who befriended him. Who didn’t know of his reputation and even when they did, they didn’t treat him any differently. Maybe they’ve been gathering blot in their body as a byproduct of being exposed to magic that their body doesn’t know how to handle? So to, potentially, save their life and to protect them, Malleus puts a spell on them that is kind of like a stasis thing? Their body won’t age or get any sicker and they won’t need to wake up to eat or drink, BUT, their body still holds the blot, the blood doesn’t go away, it just stays in them. Dormant. Maybe Malleus really thinks of how fragile humans are. How fragile his magickless child of man is but they still tried to help even after being thrown into a world so different from their own.

Maybe Malleus either goes of himself or sends Lillia, Sebek, or Silver(if he isn’t also put under the spell) to do research on blot. To find everything they can about blot. If Malleus is the one looking, he makes sure one of those three are with Yuu at all times, just in case. It doesn’t matter that he’s among the strongest magicians currently. He just wants them to be okay. If he sends one or more of the others, then he’s constantly at Yuu’s side. Just watching their chest rise and fall, a silent reassurance that they’re still there. That they’re still among the living.

The longer it takes for himself or his trusted diasomnia family to find anything, the more restless he gets. The other first years and the housewardens and some of their house members just keep asking questions about Yuu and it’s annoying Malleus. They ask when Yuu will be back and that he needs to lighten up. That they need Yuu to do this, that they need Yuu to do that, it’s always that they need Yuu to do something for them. Don’t they realize they’re part of the reason he’s having Yuu rest right now?!

Maybe, eventually, news finally comes up about blot. But it’s all for those with magick and magestones. Nothing that can help his child of man, his friend. The closest thing he can find to get rid of the blot is… no. He won’t. He won’t hurt Yuu. He can’t. He’ll tear out his own heart before he does theirs.

He’s getting more anxious and aggravated. Then he snaps. What makes him snap? Maybe one of the others, maybe Ace makes a dumb comment like, “I’m sure Yuu’s fine! If anything, it’s their fault for being so weak.” or “You’re overreacting. It’s their own fault if they’re like this. It’s not like we did something to them.” or something like that. And Malleus gets super upset. They claim they have no hand in Yuu’s current state, yet it’s because of them and their trouble that they always bring that Yuu has gotten so much blot in their body in the first place! Now this could split off two ways in my head. In both, Malleus overblots.

In one of them, he throws them all out and away from his friend, his only friend. And then they have to fight their way through blot creatures and other things just to get back to where Malleus and Yuu were, but they don’t have Yuu to help them. Yuu isn’t there to guide or coordinate them. They’re doing this on their own. Meanwhile, Yuu this whole time has been off in dreamland. Yuu has been… talking to, uh, either the great seven, or Mickey himself. Something something discovery of why they’re there something something why them something something something. They’re clueless to the waking world. So they’re kinda in this peaceful kind of… limbo. It’s the first peace they’ve had in a while. It’s a little quiet without the boys keeping them on their toes, but they have the seven/Mickey to keep them company. Malleus is still by their bedside right where they laid when he first cast the spell. He goes to caress their cheek, but sees his own blot covered hands. He swears to them as the prince of briar valley that he’ll do whatever it takes to help them.

Second way this may play out in my head! Malleus also sends THEM into dreamland, off into the world of sleep, where everything is so much easier. Where everyone can live their ideal lives and be happy! It’s okay! He’ll watch over everyone while they rest! He has so many years to figure out a way to save Yuu. He promises them on his crown that he’ll find a way to save them and keep them safe and happy as long as they both live.

Now. In dreamworld. Everyone in NRC has their own… “worlds”. Worlds where they are happy and where everything is right and is going just how they want. Uh. I kinda forgot about Grim until now. Not a clue for him in the first one, but for this one, I imagine he was sent to dreamland with the others, but the difference is, is that he knows that it’s a dream. He knows that this world isn’t real and is just from Malleus’ spell. He goes to find any of the others. But they don’t recognize him. They don’t recognize the name Yuu either. They just brush him off as a weird monster and go about with their dream that they don’t know is a dream. Also, a note, each “dreamworld” is their own separate individual dreamworld. Ace is separate from Deuce’s and Vice verse. There is an “Ace” in Deuce’s dreamworld, and there’s a “Deuce” in Ace’s, but those aren’t the real ones. They’re just part of the dream meant to keep them happy because everyone has their own dreams and ideal life and happiness. Example would be that Jamil and Kalim are in separate dreamworlds. Cause. Well. Yeah.

Maybe the first one Grim found was Ace. Maybe he gets Ace to remember Yuu and their time at NRC together when he somehow baited Ace into a fight and they scorched (one of more? I don’t remember) a great seven statue. Maybe Ace starts to say or is in the middle of saying something before he freezes. Something clicks. Going all the back into his memory, Grim can faintly remember Ace saying the same thing the first time this happened. Grim starts to ask Ace a question, but Ace cuts him off, asking where Yuu is. Grim does his best to catch Ace up on what happened and what he thinks just happened. The two decide it’s best to “wake” everyone else up. They’re still in dreamland, but they’re aware that they’re in dreamland.

Next is Deuce in his own dreamworld where he’s a model student. Uh. Chandelier. Uh. Monster in the mine or eggs make him remember. Ace and Grim explain to him. He joins their quest. They go and find everyone they knew. It takes some effort remembering just how they met to get the others to “wake up”. Dorm after dorm they eventually have all their friends.

Well, wait, before I say the next part, maybe with the dorm leaders plus Jamil, it’s just like how it was in the real world the few moments before the overblots. They have to fight all over again. But it’s just them. There’s no Yuu beside them. Theres no Yuu to guide or tell them what to do. They’re on their own this time. Once dorm leaders plus Jamil are defeated, they, too, “wake up”. For a little more angst, they’re put in their “spots” when the dorm leaders plus Jamil overblotted. Example, even though Ruggie “woke up” he appeared in Leona’s dreamworld slowly being turned to sand. Ruggie remembers this happening before, for Leona, this is the first time this is happening. All the pain is amplified because they knew why these people overblotted and why they’re acting how they are because they saw it all before.

Uh. Umm. Eventually, they get to the “core” of all the dreamworlds. Don’t ask why I put some dreamworlds in quotes and others not because I don’t know. Anyways. The core of the dreamworlds. The core is Yuu. Yuu who is completely oblivious to what’s happening both inside and outside of the dreamworld. They try and try all they want to make Yuu remember, but they just can’t. Nothing is working. Nothing is reminding Yuu. Oh. But another thing. Ya know how all the dorm leaders plus Jamil overblotted in the dreamworld? Well… that blot was real. It was coming from Yuu. With each OB they fought, Yuu began to feel more and more pain. Eventually, Yuu is yelling at them to go away. But they just won’t leave. Why won’t they leave like whenever Yuu wants whatever else in this place to leave when they ask? Why won’t they listen?! Why won’t they just obey?! Yuu is in so much pain from their presences, their body in the real world is thrashing and crying and Malleus doesn’t know what to do.

He does the only thing he can’t think of. He casts the spell on himself so he can enter their dreamworld and find out what’s cause this. Right when Grim was getting in Yuu’s face, a pillar of green fire separates them. Then Malleus appears in his OB form. He sees everyone and he knows that they’re “awake”. Maybe the others yell at him to stop this. To end the spell already. But Malleus doesn’t listen to them. He sees Yuu afraid and in pain. He gets angrier. And he fight. All of them are up against Malleus, even his own Diasomnia family. He yells how Yuu is his only true friend. Yuu is kind just… maybe clinging to Malleus, putting their face in his chest or trying to hide behind them because they somehow know he’s safety.

But. You remember how all that blot in the previous refights were real? So is this blot that is consuming Malleus. And now it’s consuming Yuu too. Instead of fighting though, Yuu sinks deeper into the blot. Like they’re trying to get comfort from the blot that covers both theirs and Malleus’ forms. Uh. If Malleus transformed into a dragon, they’re still clinging to him. Maybe to his neck? I dunno. I’m doing my best here.

The others are losing. Badly. They can’t stand up against Malleus. Grim is on the verge of collapsing. The dorms are all exhausted from this fight that seems never ending. They don’t even seem fake make a scratch on Malleus.

Then there’s a scream.

Malleus stops.

Everyone else stops.

The screaming continues.

Malleus is frantic. He knows that scream. If he transformed into a dragon, he changed back in his more human looking form. He goes to hold Yuu, but when he turns, he can’t even see them. He can’t even see the slightest bit of their skin or hair or clothes. There’s only blot.

The blot that Malleus had from overblotting and from the spells everyone was using. It all went into Yuu. It’s just what Malleus didn’t want, what he was trying to avoid.

—————

Uh. My brain stopped. My brain said that that is enough. Mr brain said that this is it for now and to stop writing. Uh. Thoughts? I forget where I was going with this. Uh. I’d be happy to answer any questions or listen to any input on this idea? I may add more later when my brain decides to continue? If I do, I guess it’ll be in a new post reblogged from this one? I’ve been on this site for years and I still don’t really know how tumblr works.

I kinda went on a ramble and uh. I think I got off kilter some? Uh. I’ve only really played to the end of chapter 3. I’ve read some stuff about 4 and 5 but uh. This is from my own thoughts. If not, I think I got one heck of a fanfiction idea lol

#an anxious rebloggers original posts #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland theories #how do i tag help #how do i tag these things #twst theory #am i doing this tag thing right? #help i don’t know what i’m doing #I went on a ramble #is main tagging okay? #I’ve been here for years but I don’t know how tumblr works #my brain eventually said that that was enough for now #may add more later #I guess??

[floof-writes]

could you do a fic where hunter returns to belos after hollow mind? i think that hurt no comfort would be very nice

Hi, virusgarden! Thank you for the prompt! I'll be honest, I wasn't super into it at first, about halfway through I was like, "okay, let's be done now" and then half an hour had passed and I was having to tag major character death. I would love to blame you for what's under the cut, but really it's my fault for letting my worldbuilding brain go brr.

Title: "More Weight"

Words: 2050

Warnings: graphic violence and injury description, MCD

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43461781

Hunter’s skin stung, every layer and every pore smarting with memories of how unsuited a magickless witch was to the Boiling Isles. His childhood had lent itself to pain and now to resilience as he ran, low hanging branches scraping his face and bloodying his scar because on the Boiling Isles every twig was filed to a point and every leaf had a serrated edge. The dew that flicked off the ferns turned memories to reality, burning harshly, and Hunter had always wondered how rain hurt so much but humidity and morning condensation only harmed those it particularly hated. 

Hunter hadn’t been running from anything in particular at the beginning, but now he could hear his footsteps behind him echoed ten-fold, a dozen doppelgangers doggedly mimicking his every move. He only stopped himself from looking back because he knew he’d see corpses if not bones and that thought terrified him more than not knowing if they were really there. 

A particularly sharp branch sliced his cheek and he stumbled. He'd always been alone in a world designed to kill and hurt and now he was alone with versions of himself who hadn’t survived it. They were walking evidence of what awaited him if he ever returned to the only family he’d ever known, and as he knew now, the only family that had ever been real. 

Something white fluttered out from a crease between his boot and his leggings and before he could even think his next step had stamped it into the ground. Hunter barely had time to blink before he was slamming into the nearest tree trunk, glyph-made vines erupting beneath his feet and launching him sideways. 

He hit the ground hard and gasped. It burned, his skin peppered with the glass that masqueraded as pebbles and pine needles. He jerked his cheek away only to drop it back down as his ribs shifted in and out of place, like a creaky floorboard with a bunch of cracks. He took another panicked breath, trying to process as he registered the hot blood dripping down his arm and the large tear in his sleeve.

Hunter blinked, trying to get the world to come back in focus, his palm burning as he tried to sit up, but in front of him the edges of the spent glyph and its viney creation doubled and overlapped and fuzzed, and his next blink yielded a glimpse of something he shouldn’t be able to see at all. Between the seams of reality were its origins. He saw glyphs, glancing off the glass and shimmering between layers of tree bark, writing the code that made up the universe.

Nothing more wild than that. 

Flapjack was suddenly in front of his face, frantically chirping. Hunter went cross eyed and jerked back, head pounding. He pushed himself upright, throwing an arm out to shove his palisman away along with what he’d just seen. 

He looked, but behind him there were no ghosts, no echoes, no whispers of the Golden Guards long dead. Hunter shivered, grabbing his ribs. His heart was pumping so clearly and so loudly, in the odd, lopsided way it always had because of his missing bile sack (although Hunter supposed it wasn’t so much missing as it was never meant to be a part of him at all. Humans didn’t have bile sacks.)

Hunter didn’t see the ghosts but there was a new hallucination plaguing him now, because the the same glyphs he’d momentarily seen reflected between Flapjack’s feathers had been strung through his own stinging pores, his skin momentarily bearing the distinct lines of smooth palisman wood. 

Hunter hysterically wondered: would his chest sound hollow if he knocked? Had his lopsided heartbeat been the hallucination all along?

His body was as wild as the world around him, more inherently magical than any witch's. He was everything his uncle intended to destroy and no matter how much his body tried to mimic a human’s that wouldn’t change. Even in death his bones would have the dry and cracked texture of dead wood. He was of the Boiling Isles, he lived and died by it's wildest form of magic. 

But dew still burned him like rain. 

Hunter started to sob and Flapjack ceased his frantic hovering to burrow into his chest. Hunter brought up his hands to hold him. His body itself was a betrayal, since birth Hunter had been magic masquerading as magickless, and in retaliation the Titan had revoked his ability to be safe here. 

But through every stinging second, Belos had protected him. When the world itself rejected him, Belos had picked him up and taught him how to survive. And Hunter couldn't keep doing it without him. 

Belos may have killed all the past Golden Guards, but they had something Hunter hadn’t: a choice. They chose to betray Belos, Hunter hadn’t. Hunter was loyal, still and always, and Belos wouldn’t throw away someone- something he’d worked so hard to make. 

Right?

The other Golden Guards had tried to be something they were not- tried to mimic the magic instead of the human, had tried to defy their nature, and look where that had gotten them. There was no point in pretending his origin made him any more magical than Luz the human or Caleb himself. 

Hunter had only one place in the Boiling Isles, and if he needed to, he would beg for it back. 

***

Hunter trembled outside the door. His knees clacked but they didn’t sound like wood. No, they creaked like human knees subjected to sixteen years of hell. 

Flapjack hadn’t stopped trying to tug him further from it the entire way here, but Hunter had ordered him to hide the moment they got on castle grounds. Maybe it had been something in his voice, in his eyes that echoed back a hundred lifetimes, because Flapjack had fled.  

Now alone, Hunter pushed open the door. 

His uncle was hunched over the throne, mask off, breath labored. His head snapped up when he heard the door open, face half gone to the curse in a horrible, animalistic roar before he force it back. “I said not to en-” 

Then he saw who it was. 

Hunter tried to believe the silence was a good thing. He’d never seen his uncle silent before. Never seen him frozen before. When he couldn’t take it anymore he spoke, voice cracking. “Hey.” He cringed, regretting the it immediately. It was a turn of phrase that must've rubbed off on him from spending too much time with Luz and Willow and the team, but it was too late to go back. 

Belos’ expression twitched, head cocking in curiosity, eyes and voice carrying what Hunter could’ve sworn was the slightest hint of amusement and surprise. “Hello, Hunter.” 

Hunter had never had this expression turned on him before, Belos had never been so interested in him. His uncle’s eyes traced over him, cataloging every scrape and every twitch, the way he was holding himself to the way he breathed, calculating. 

“You returned?” Even after all that looking he was still surprised, and Hunter suddenly felt as though he’d done something right. Belos straightened and stepped off the dias, another conclusion ready on his tongue. “And not to confront me?” 

Hunter shook his head. 

“Then why?” Belos’ voice was smooth, curious, soft. He came closer, steps imperceptible beneath his robe. 

Hunter swallowed and dropped to one knee, ignoring the way his entire body shuddered. “Golden Guard reporting for duty, sir.” 

“Are you dense?” Belos asked, words reactive and uncalculated, truly taken aback. 

Hunter grit his teeth. “No sir. Awaiting your orders, sir.” 

“Don’t you want to betray me? The others did.” 

“That was their choice," Hunter said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "This is mine.” He should’ve left it at that, but he couldn’t stop. “I’m loyal to you, Uncle, I want to continue serving you, I-” 

Belos crouched down in front of him and Hunter flinched to a stop as the man cupped his cheek with one freezing hand, studying his face.

“I killed the others, Hunter,” he explained gently. “Did you come here to die?” It was a genuine question. 

“No sir,” Hunter said, still reeling from the admittance from his mouth, lopsided heart beat threatening to give out. 

“Then for what?” Belos asked, nails brushing Hunter’s bloody cheek as he rose. 

Hunter searched for an answer that would ring true, only finding the courage to speak once Belos’ back was to him. 

“For the truth,” he said, and that surprised him more than anything, took more out of him than the branch that sliced his arm. “Was I ever meant to be anything more than a copy?”

“No,” Belos said, in a tone that prompted him to keep talking. 

“Then the others were stupid,” Hunter said, the words torn from his chest so deep it hurt. “They tried to belong to something they didn’t. The Boiling Isles hate me. I was born- or, I guess made to be a betrayal of it. Made to serve you. Why defy my nature?” 

There was silence, but Hunter didn’t have anything left in his chest to offer up for parts except a lopsided heartbeat that was going far too fast. He was certain his chest would sound hollow now. 

Then Belos laughed, and Hunter’s heartbeat stopped. 

It was genuine, hysterical, full, like he’d just heard something truly funny, and Hunter didn’t get the joke. 

And he just kept laughing.

Hunter finally got enough of himself back to start to stand up when Belos turned, moldy green overtaking his body, the door Hunter had left open a crack slamming shut. Hunter couldn’t make it to his feet before Belos’ limbs had him pinned against the door, feet dangling in the air. He choked in pain, his ribs groaning. 

“Fool,” Belos growled, eyes glowing yellow orange, mouth dripping foam. “There is nothing more in Caleb’s nature than betraying me in favor of a world that wants him dead.” 

Oh titan, he’d fucked up. He’d fucked up. 

Hunter struggled against Belos’ hold but it was no use, the living wood was growing around him, over him, in him, bruisingly tight without regard for their existence as separate beings. It was almost a part of him at this point, and Hunter realized belatedly that at one point it might have been. Oh titan, was Belos trying to reabsorb him?

The wood got tighter and tighter and tighter and Hunter got less and less air until- It cracked, loosening as Belos’ muscles seemed to give out from the strain. Hunter sucked in a desperate breath. 

“Damn, it never works,” Belos groused, and Hunter found himself airborne, thrown across the room by Belos’ creeping limbs. 

He crashed into the throne, now absolutely certain that he had not a single intact rib to his name. His next breath was a cough that came with blood and not just a little either. His chest hurt so bad and he couldn’t breathe but still he pushed himself upright, trying to see straight, past the pain in his head and the way the world was fuzzing. He looked up just in time to see another speeding limb pin him against the throne, Belos’ form becoming more and more wild. 

He hadn’t created Hunter to defy magic. He’d created Hunter to prove his own dominance over it, again and again. 

But this was him losing control. 

Belos squeezed tighter and Hunter found that in the absence of oxygen everything was going quiet, there was ringing in his ears and he couldn’t feel his limbs or anything but the pressure in his head, really. He blinked, failing again to take another breath, and realized the glyphs that wove the fabric of his body matched those of Belos’: palisman wood hiding behind the face of a human. 

Hunter’s head lolled as black spots started to speckle his vision. His gaze landed on the torches lining the room, the glyphs dancing in their flames. His scrabbling fingers slowed to a stop and Hunter's eyes slid shut. 

Belo's suddenly shouted, grip loosening as Flapjack bombarded his face. Hunter gasped in a sudden breath, nearly passing out from the rush anyway. The torches danced in his vision, their symbols sparking cheerily. 

Hunter’s hand twitched, creating a line through the smear of blood on the arm rest, and he didn’t even have time to assign his thought words before Flapjack screamed and Belos’ grip tightened again, crunching his abdomen well beyond repair. 

Maybe Belos was shouting at him still, Hunter didn’t know. He didn't spare the man's seething face another glance. He was focused on the glyphs in the torch to his left, dragging his finger through his blood as carefully as he could manage. 

‘There is nothing more in Caleb’s nature than betraying me in favor of a world that wants him dead.’

Hunter tapped the glyph. It barely yielded a spark, but it was enough. His hand lit. Then Belos' nearest limb Maybe Hunter screamed as the flames spread across his chest and down Belos' arm. He couldn't really hear much beyond the crackling of burning wood. 

Who needs a stake, after all, when the witches double as the tinder?

#ask answered #the owl house #toh hunter #emperor belos #toh fic

[sanctuscaelus]

Pathos of The Adder

Gifts Given Through Envy

Datum per Invidiam.

Remember Child, Envy is a Form of Praise.

⚠ CW: Manipulation, Coercion, Abuse, Corruption. ⚠

The story of how Caelus Creta, an imperial defector, came to attune to his Reaper's Souls Crystal. It speaks on how the bond he shares with his Avatar, Innamorata, came to be. Gods have mercy upon his soul…

An ominous teal fog had overtaken the skies of the Twelveswood, and the elements were in a state of despair. This could spell doom for the entire forest, but the people who called the Black Shroud home would not resign so easily. The sound of boots stormed through the shroud as a squadron of Adders wove betwixt the trees. Huguemont, the group's youngest member, was bringing up the rear, firing return arrows at their assailant.

 “Hugo, just forget it! We can’t do much to the likes of that thing!” Oscarlet, Huguemont’s older brother and First Lieutenant of the squadron called out.    

As he did—a brilliant wave of pure destruction clove through everything in its path. Were it not for Caelus, Oscarlet was right in the path and would’ve lost his life that day. The squadron’s commander leapt back to his feet after tackling his brother-in-arms to the ground. He dragged Oscar into the brush and called out.

“Enough cover fire kid! All of you get the hells out of here! Odin has been sufficiently routed!” 

A round of ayes came from the other seven of Caelus’ squadron. They all quickly departed, except Hugo who met up with his brother and their captain. 

“It doesn't quit the chase. But we've successfully lured it away from Camp Tranquil, captain. What's the plan of action? Wait for the Warrior of Light?" 

Caelus thought for a moment, that was all they really could do. But that didn’t feel right to him. He was sworn to protect the Wood, he couldn’t just wait until someone capable of actually killing this monster showed up. It would leave the people in danger and that he couldn’t allow. “You see to it that the others get out.” “And you Cae?!” Oscar demanded an answer, gripping onto his captain’s shoulder with an unnerved expression. “And I will do what I do best and serve as a magickless distraction. If we do not keep its attention, Odin will simply head back towards the camp—or worse, and start to make way for Quarrymill! Listen to my orders for once, don’t be a brat!” “Brat?! I’m older than you.” Oscar snapped back as he rose to his feet. “Don’t die or I’ll kill you. Let’s go Hugo.” The elder of the two duskwights began to scan before even thinking of leaving cover, but there was no sign of the Dark Divinity. Had it already chosen to ignore them? Hugo completely walked out of the brush, his ears twitching as he listened carefully. The forest was quiet, eerily so. Oscar and Caelus also rose, the three men moving back to back. They could feel it through the fog, eyes upon them, but they could not tell from whence the gaze came. It was enough to make the hair on their necks stand on end. But it was not Odin’s wrath that breathed a chill down Caelus’ spine. Since they had lost sight of the Dark Divinity, he had been hearing faint whispering which drew ever nearer. 

At once the voice was upon him, as if it spoke into his ear. He let out a gasp—not out of fear, but shock. The voice he heard was one he would never forget, but also one he could never hear again. So how was She speaking now?

“Dim flower, look up.” It was Her voice, Venilia’s voice. But she was dead, he had seen it with his own eyes, buried her with his own hands. “You must move, now.”

Caelus glanced upwards and a bright red spear hung above the trio. The adder captain daren’t waste another moment with his confusion, he let loose a whistle—a specific signal that let the other two know to scatter as quickly as possible. The three men all ran in different directions as the spear descended crashing into the ground with a violent fury. The group was launched in the directions they were running, with Huguemont being the first on his feet. “Matron’s teats! Gungnir! Keep moving, it's going to give chase!” He shouted, taking off in a sprint. “Twelve forfend…” Oscar groaned, wiping the dirt from his face as he too rose to run yet again. “Cae! You alright?!” He called over his shoulder. But Caelus could not hear that call, he sat on his knees, clutching the black crystal which glowed so brightly in his hand it seemed it might burn him. An aura of pure darkness was beginning to emanate from him. The duff was littered with soot coloured Hyacinth flowers, the edges of their petals alight with flame. A voidsent floated before him, having the garlean locked in a ravenous gaze. Her skin was pale, save her arms which were stained in black. Her eyes glowed brightly in the azure hued forest. She smelled sickeningly of flowers, fire and blood. But worse still was the hungry stare she gave Caelus, it seemed to be full of wrath—or perhaps jealousy? 

“I am sorry, I just liked this voice so much, I thought to use it to help you. Wasn’t that kind of me?” It was Venilia’s voice, stolen by this voidsent. Caelus moved to draw his blade and the Voidsent lifted her hand, pushing it back into its sheath with a strength he couldn’t hope to challenge. “You have such a pretty face, oh how I wish it were my face…”

The voidsent rubbed her cheek, as if imagining Caelus’ face were her own. Without missing a beat she glanced over her shoulder. All it took was a gentle tug; she and Caelus were moved aside as the red spear Gungnir tore the trees near them asunder. The voidsent glared at the reemerging Eikon and smiled. She seemed unphased by the god that was standing against her. She plucked one of the black flowers from the ground and took in its scent longingly. “What bountiful aether, It should all belong to me… Alas, I can not lift so much as a finger against you—at least, not until he chooses to join with me.” She glanced towards Caelus. “Think about this carefully, we could become strong using this power of mine. Hm, I could even spare your precious friends their fates. We don’t want to fail those you love again, do we?”  Caelus stared at her, and then around her to Odin who was lifting his blade again. He couldn’t think of another way out of this situation, but to accept this voidsent would be abominable… what would the others think of him for it? “Tick tock, dim flower… Your life will be coming to an all too abrupt end shortly. Tsk tsk tsk… all that wasted potential.” “Y-your voice? How did you get it?” He asked. “What is your name, and what have you done to my beloved?” “Oh… still on about her? You need not worry, my soon-to-be vessel. I simply hear her voice in your dreams. I’ve been in the Soul Stone all this time. Keeping you safe from my side of our crystalline doorway. As for my name, I shall only give it to you, once you have accepted me as your avatar.” Caelus had not enough time to think, Odin let loose a ferocious attack, one that surely would cleave through the entirety of the Lower Paths. He shut his eyes tightly. Accepting his fate but holding his hand out to the Voidsent. He could not fail his company, not like he failed his wife and child. No, never again.

The voidsent smiled with glee, a new object of infatuation and obsession had been acquired. No matter how momentarily she would possess this plaything, she would treat it with the utmost care. It was hers after all. She grabbed ahold of Caelus’ hand, and he could feel how disgustingly torrid she was. It was as if he had reached into the sun itself. And though it burned, he did not dare let go. It was as though time had stood still, all save Odin. Caelus blinked and within an instant, a trail of the haunting looking Hyacinths were left in his wake. He pushed Odin’s blade heavensward, preventing the swing. And then he spoke, but the voice was not his, it was that of his beloved once more.

“I am the first spark of the Flamekeeper. I am the throes of passion, and the last embers of joy. Hear me Eikon and know your doom. I am Innamorata, humble servant of the Archfiend of Fire.” She released Odin’s blade.

A scythe engraved with a cacophony of faces of immense beauty appeared from thin air before Caelus. The eyes of the many faces were all closed until Innamorata’s hand—no, his hand—wrapped around the snath, at which point they snapped open and burned a vibrant red. “Let this, our dance give me naught but endless joy and contentedness as I make you mine. Bear witness to the grip of my flames and petals” Caelus could feel her, it was like she was spreading throughout his body, taking over every ilm of him. But he knew how this worked, he had once upon a time researched the avatars of reapers to understand certain medicinal arts they used. If this demon’s will superseded his, his body would be lost and a voidsent would be let loose within the Twelveswood. The garlean used the hand he still had reign of and grabbed the scythe. “Ah… such defiance. Fine, I shall let you retain some of your will for now I suppose. You had best not disappoint.”

The Garlean took the scythe in his hands, it weighed heavy and all but overwhelmed his soul. But he could sense the ambient aether now thanks to this… Innamorata. There was also the pain the elementals were in, and most importantly the might that was the presence of Odin—Caelus could feel it all. He could feel the strength that this Voidsent had, and knew… there was a chance he would be able to drive Odin off. The Elder Eikon seemed to understand this newfound strength and readied itself. The two powers clashed and waves of destruction resonated through the south shroud. There were spears and flowers dancing in the air, Caelus was careful to launch any of Odin’s wanton slashes upwards and away from the trees, but his caution was holding back Innamorata’s strength, he could feel her growing weary of releasing her power for him. 

“P-please, don’t take it back…” He begged as the scythe began to crack in his hands. “Please!” 

In a flash Odin was no longer present, it was just Caelus and Innamorata, standing in the middle of an endless field of black and white Hyacinths. The sky was set ablaze in a burning red that matched the flames on the scythe. Innamorata seemed the origin of the fire, flames trailing behind her like a cape. But she was not alone in this, for a cape of rainbow-like embers wrapped as protective wings around Caelus.

“Hm… your soul is more tenacious than initial evaluations. Very well Caelus Creta, I shall grant you full command of my power, but when you inevitably perish your soul shall be mine to reap, understood?” She held out her hand, wreathed in those sickly looking green flames she could conjure. 

“I only wish to keep the Twelveswood free of harm. Your power will allow me too, I am sure…” Caelus seemed to be assuring himself, more than confirming with her.  

“The Twelveswood? Or the silly little family you’ve decided to transplant yourself amongst?” Innamorata teased. “Do not worry, Little Flower, we shall save them and everyone else.”

Caelus gritted his teeth but begrudgingly held his hand outwards. He was still hesitant but Innamorata didn’t give him the chance for second thoughts. She grabbed a hold of his hand and the pact was sealed. They were back in the forest, but he was draped in green flames, and though they licked at dry wood, they did not catch the forest alight. He raised his hand and the scythe reappeared, burning even more brilliantly as the crystalline doorway had been pushed open even farther. But Caelus was not present, it was as if he were asleep, off in the land of dreams. “Dark Divinity... What a beautiful title. It should be mine, you will give it to me won’t you, Odin? Your strength, I wish it were mine. I could only dream of having the power to sever all in my path…” Innamorata swung the scythe and a duel began. It was a long battle and the forest was being split in twain by the might of Zantetsuken. But it was only the earth itself, not a single tree, shrub, or creature had been harmed. Whatever claims of weakness Innamorata proffered, they were falsehoods most likely. She was getting ready to strike down the Eikon and claim its aether as her own, but Caelus’ head began to throb. “Still… fighting? No… something is wrong! What have you done mortal?! Lord Rubicante… I’ve made a mistake…”  That was all the voidsent could utter before she collapsed, seemingly forced back into the darkness.

As Caelus slipped in and out of consciousness Odin slowly rode towards him. This would surely be his end. But a knight clad in dark metal, wielding a giant blade stood in the Eikon’s path. No—this was no ordinary knight, it was the Warrior of Light. So the Twelveswood had been saved after all. Good.

When Caelus woke next, he was in the Adders’ Nest barracks, more specifically, the infirmary. He was surprised to see the entirety of his squadron in various spots around the room, talking amongst themselves. Only Oscarlet seemed to be focused on him as he lay there. When the duskwights eyes met his, there was a look of relief, laced with further worry. “Commander!” He said loud enough for the others to hear, standing and saluting. “A pleasure to have you with us again.” The others quickly did the same, with the exception of Hugo who ran over to the bed and immediately began poking and prodding at the garlean. When everyone was shooed off by the chirurgeon, only Oscar and Caelus remained in the room. A heavy silence hung for quite some time before the elezen spoke his mind. “You used that crystal I found, didn’t you?” He asked quietly. There was a sour expression on his face, one Caelus knew meant that he was disappointed. But the garlean smiled and nodded, giving naught but the truth. He looked down at his hands, wondering where the soul crystal had gone. It felt odd not having it near—as he had always kept it close over the years. Oscarlet reached into a drawer, tossing it to him. “Why? Why would you let one of those monsters use you like that?” Again, silence. But for a much shorter time. Caelus inhaled, knowing this might very well destroy his friendship, or further, his chance of remaining within the Twelveswood. “I wished to protect the Wood—and more importantly to me—You and Hugo. I would do it all the same, given the opportunity to repeat it.” Oscarlet simply stared at the man, his mouth agape. It was an expression Caelus seldom saw. The shock turned into a full blown laughing fit, and both men laughed together until they were wiping tears from their eyes. Oscar placed a hand upon his Captain’s shoulder and gently nodded. “I am just happy you lived, I would’ve had a terrible time explaining to mother how everyone survived but you.” “I’m sure she would’ve figured it out… but… what happened? How did I end up here?” Oscarlet retold what he had learned. All at once it seemed the battle would consume the forest whole, then there was silence. When he had grown the spine to go back and check, Odin and Zantetsuken were both gone. The elezen had learned that The Warrior of Light had carried an unconscious Caelus back to Gridania and handed him over to the conjurer’s guild where they had used the power of the elements to place a few countermeasures upon his soul to keep the very powerful voidsent in check.

 It was as if a weight was lifted from Caelus’ chest, there was no question of his loyalty to the wood. There was no stripping of his rank, there was no banishment. They had accepted his choice so easily. Of course, it was all of that… but also some words from the Champion of Eorzea, who had witnessed choice portions of the pact being formed. 

In the days since his release from medical care, Caelus had been wont to use his borrowed power for the greater good of the Twelveswood. Of course, there is likely a certain few people of great import keeping an eye on him, for should his actions ever prove too dangerous for the Woods’ Will, he shall be dealt with.

#ffxiv #garlean #gridania #backstory #oc lore #Caelus Creta

[exiledgriffin]

no touch me i sad

#traditional art #pencil sketch #doodles #nik #griffinman #magickless #magicklesscomic #seriously don't #send kitty pics #show me your kitties #i'm gonna go cry now

[mariesdeluluworld]

Little Witch Tom Riddle x Malfoy Reader

Hello readers! So, had an idea in the dead of night and wrote this chapter for this potential story and I need some feedback. Do you like it? Would you like to see more of this? Please tell me because I would love to write more of this, but I don't know if anyone would want to read something like this. Also, the title is not its official and final title. If you guys enjoy this idea, the title will be something completely different from Little Witch.

Hope you enjoy this random thing of mine.

The smell of moisture and mildew clouded my senses. I could feel the tendrils of the musty basement curl around my head, tightening their hold. The familiar throbbing ran down my head and face, causing me to wince and squeeze my eyes, trying to work through the pain. I’ve always hated coming down here. This underground layer underneath my home always made my spine shiver and made gooseflesh appear on my delicate skin. This place, full of death and sorrow from previous victims throughout the history of my family, haunted these walls. In the dead of night, I could hear their wails and shrieks of terror. I could hear their weeping and their cries for help. Hear their pleas to a higher power and bargain with their soul, trying to escape this prison. But their prayers and pleas went unanswered. Day in and day out, they were still here. Stuck. Tethered to these bloody walls.

Knowing that these souls occupied these walls and halls was one reason I avoided this place. But something was calling me. Whispering my name. Urging me to come down here, to explore. To search for it. I’d tried to ignore the call, the whisper, but each night it grew louder and louder. Finally, after a nightmare of snakes strangling me in my sleep, I allowed the voice to take control and call to me. I followed the voice, down the corridors, passing portraits, the sleeping quarters of the house-elves, all the way down the stairs that led here. Unlike the dungeons that were kept clean and lit, the basement, underneath the dungeons, was dark, dirty, and had a metallic smell. Here, I could feel the voice calling louder, urging me more quickly, practically pushing me forward, moving my stone-cold feet towards a chest. An ebony chest, decorated in silver and bore the Malfoy family crest. On the lip of the lid wrote a name: Abraxas M. Malfoy.

This was my grandfather’s chest. My recently deceased grandfather.

Now, this close to the chest, I could feel magic electrifying in the air, crackling with energy. The voice, now clearer and deeper, called out my name. I felt an invisible hand take my own and place it on the chest. Magic pulsed and cracked throughout the house, passing through my fingertips, travelling up my body, tingling my nervous system. Power gushed through my veins; an echo of spells in Latin, French, and German rang through my head. I felt a pull in my abdomen, as if something was trying to reach through my body and pull out my magical core; rending me magickless. I tried to fight it, combating it with my own power, using ancient spells and curses passed down through my family, trying to ward off the entity. However, my attempts became futile. Whatever this spirit—voice—was, it knew how to avoid and get past my family's magic, delving itself into the pits of my mind, reaching into the darkest parts, seeing memories I’d wish to avoid.

Memories of a man with red eyes and cold skin.

I felt my brain being torn in two when my throat convulsed. I screamed loudly. I felt a whoosh of power flow from me as I screamed. I felt the chilling laughter of a monster crawling up my skin, piercing my soft and supple flesh, drawing blood. Ruby drops coated the floor, soaking a carpet and dripping onto my feet.

The lid of the chest flew open, the lock breaking, and a sense of dread curled in the pit of my stomach. Still under the control of whatever this spirit was, I felt myself lean and bend, reaching my hand into the chest and grabbing a small black book. A name was etched into the leather cover, written in gold lettering. When my fingertips connected with the cover, I felt a pulse of dark magick flow through my fingers, numbing them.

I ran my index finger down the leather cover, tingling with power, as I traced the name. Names were power. Though some people disagreed, the old ways were proof of that sentiment. Names held power over someone. You knew their true name, the name their soul carried, you held power over them. And this name, I knew, even in my drunken and controlled state, that this name held power I couldn’t even imagine. That this name was dangerous. And if I uttered it, it would seal my fate.

“(Y/n)!!”

The voice of my father reached my ears, making me blink a few times, as my vision became blurred. I felt my body becoming numb and buckled under my weight.

“(Y/n)!!” Father’s arms wrapped around me and I felt my body become weightless. Light. As if I was a feather.

“Sweet girl, what happened? What’ve I told you about coming down here? It’s dangerous!”

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t feel. All I could do was blink and stare at my father; his grey eyes trained on my figure as he assessed the situation and damage. His hair was tied back in a bow, keeping his strands of silver out of his eyes. He wasn’t wearing pyjamas. He was still in his clothes from earlier. His cloak, his three-piece suit, his dragon-hide wingback shoes.

He was still awake then; I mused.

“(Y/n), look at me, tell me what happened.”

I tried. I really did. But I couldn’t. I felt my body and mind slip in and out of consciousness. All I could do was grip the book tighter. He noticed. His grey eyes travelled to my hand, where I clutched the book for dear life. As if it was a part of my soul. A part of me.

A gasp left my father, his eyes widening as he took into the leather cover. His eyes flashed back and forth.

To me; to the book. To me; to the book.

Over and over and over. Until he finally gained the strength and re-established his mind.

“Come (Y/n),” Father picks me up in his arms. I feel the book drop from my hands. It slapped against the cold stone floors. It’s voice called out to me again. I wanted to hold it, clutch it close to my heart, weep over the pages. But I can do nothing about it. I was motionless. Paralyzed. My strength was all but gone. The fight for control and the will of my magick took its toll on me. I could no longer feel.

As father carried me away from the basement full of death, my vision was blurry and I could only hear distorted voices. It was as if I was hearing things on another frequency. As if I reached another plane of this universe. The only voice I could hear clearly was the whisper.

“Come to me,”

“Free me from this cage,”

“Come to me, (Y/n),”

“Come…”

The last thing I heard was a man whispering in another language, a language I knew and understood, yet I could not understand.

In the dark basement of Malfoy Manor, while house-elves and the Lady of the house took care of the heiress Malfoy, trying to break her fever and console her shaking and convulsing body—a man walked down the long spiral staircase leading down towards the damp basement. He held his wand in front of him; it was lit with the simple lumos spell, as he travelled down to the haunted walls.

His eyes were set in an icy determination, the same look he had about him when he was intending to see things done properly—his way. His brows were furrowed and his pointy chin was jutted out. The surrounding air crackled as his own magical core expanded, covering his person in protection spells.

For years, that blasted diary was quiet. It slept peacefully, only to be awakened when it was time for his master to see the light of day. It appears, when the cursed pages woke, it stirred something in his eldest child, his daughter. Called out to her, hypnotising her. She was its victim, wanting her to take the book and pour her soul into its cursed ink so that his Master might live again. His Dark Lord’s plan was planned out so very well, its cursed nature, its spiritus malus enchanted his daughter. While Lucius was angry and wanted to incendio the cursed book to nothing more than a pile of ash —- it was his master's orders to answer the call, and Lucius was a devoted servant of his Lord.

He walked down the long corridor, towards the chest. Lucius bent down and picked up the book, feeling its magick course through his veins. He suppressed a shiver from running down his spine, and turned on the balls of his feet, clouding himself in shadow as he marched his way down the corridor, up the stairs, and into his private office.

Sitting the book on his mahogany desk, he took a seat in his leather winged-back chair and stared at it. He could hear the whispers of the curse, trying to seduce him, place him under the spell.

Lucius didn’t know what to do. He ran through his memories, looking for one of his Dark Lord. He shifted through his categorised mind, tearing down the walls and boarded up doors of his mind. He sorted and searched until he found it.

It was after his daughter’s first birthday. October 31st, 1976. She had just received her soul-mark—something the Malfoy family has always had; the magick of soulmates. It was also after the Dark Lord appointed him as his Second-in-Command. He remembered how thrilled he was, earning the approval of his Lord, and rising in the ranks of Death Eaters. It was a glorious moment for him and his family. Lucius remembered how, after the small gathering they had for his daughter, the Dark Lord stayed around, claiming to speak to him about an urgent matter at hand. But what he didn’t notice back then, in the present, of his Master’s eyes on his child’s soul-mark embedded in the skin of her right wrist. It was strange, Lucius remembered himself saying. A snake wrapping its body around the child's wrist, eating its tail. The mark was nothing like his own mark with Narcissa; a flower with a snake coiled around its stem. His mark was calm and held an aura of serenity. While hers was violent, untamed, out-of-control. There was no softness, only a cold exterior of a snake eating itself.

Lucius remembered when he was a child asking his own father about the nature of their soul-marks. As to why snakes were always included in their depiction of the other half of their soul. Abraxas didn’t know, but claimed there was a snake involved in the ritual to tether the souls of mates together, to show, to embed a mark on the skin, showing the world the superiority of Malfoy’s and their magic.

While many of the guests stared at her wrist with curiosity and fascination, his master’s eyes were full of something Lucius could not place. When Cygnus and Druella approached their granddaughter and daughter, they gave gifts and encouraging words to Narcissa. However, Cygnus looked at his granddaughter with disappointment, wishing his loyal and obedient daughter had given birth to a son first, rather than a daughter. When the man's cold eyes flickered to her little wrist, he reached out and touched it, tracing the mark. Something snapped in his master’s exterior, and the mask of calm and connectedness broke and a sliver of emotion passed through his facade. His red eyes flashed angrily, and his hands clenched into fists.

Before his Lord could make a scene, Lucius approached him, asking him about what matter he needed to speak of urgently. The two left the scene, walking down the long dark-lit corridors, passing sleeping and awake portraits. Lucius pushed the door open to his study, letting the light of the fireplace cast a glow to the porcelain man beside him. His grey eyes watched as the Dark Lord took a seat, pulling something out from his cloak. Lucius turned, closed and locked the door, and strode across the threshold to his master.

“Lucius,” his Master’s voice, was icy, filled with nothing but cold, bitter ice. “This is what I wished to discuss with you.” He placed a book on the mahogany desk occupying this room. Whispers filled the room. Lucius shivered as his magick core sensed the dark magic, the death, surrounding this book.

“What is it, my Lord?” he asked, the hairs on his neck standing up, attentive to the magic in this room. His Master smiled. His smile reminded him of a snake before striking.

“This, my friend, is my old school diary. It is now a cursed object.” He picked up the book, flipping the pages as he spoke. “It contains my younger self. Preserved in these pages.” The book screamed a silent scream.

“I want you to hide it. Once the book awakens, I want you to give it to someone. Magic or non-magic, I care not who it is. Give it to them, and they shall write in it, for the pull of this diary is too strong for anyone to resist. As they write, my younger self will suck their life-force; their core. And once my younger-self has done it, they shall be reborn again.”

Lucius stared in astonishment. “But my lord, you are already here. Alive.”

His Master smirked. “I have no doubts, Lucius, that I shall succeed. But if there is a slight chance. A slight possibility that the old fool beats me, well, then you will know what to do with it.”

Lucius watched as he ran a finger down the spine, watching the book itself shudder.

“This is only a precaution. I know I will have no need for it.”

Voldemort stood from his chair. His eyes, red as blood, gazed into Lucius’ grey orbs.

“Do you understand, Lucius?” he asked. Lucius knew that tone. He’d seen it in action when Death Eaters failed their mission or when he interrogated wizards, witches, and mudbloods.

“Yes, My Lord,”

A chilling smile spread across his face.

Lucius knew what to do. He sighed, laced his fingers together, and sat in deep thought. Thinking up a plan. A plan to resurrect his master's soul. He knew, deep in his soul, that if he was the one to resurrect his Master, he would be welcomed back joyously. His comrades would praise him, his master would thank him.

And if what his master said was true, this new form would be young. No one would know him. He could fit in the ranks of the Ministry, infiltrate it from the inside. Corrupt the Wizengomat. His Master would do wondrous things for the good of the Wizarding World. Purify the scum of their world, and lay waste to the blood traitors.

The glory days would return, and his youngest would live in a world full of wizards and witches like him.

Lucius smiled. Yes, it’ll all work out. All he needs to do is find a mind curious enough to write in the pages of a diary and who’s ignorant enough to believe that this book means no harm.

While this was happening, the young Malfoy Heiress thrashed in her sleep. House-elves tried to calm her, but she continued to convulse. In her fevered dreams, stood a man standing on a hilltop. His eyes were a deep shade of black, almost like he held the starless night sky in his orbs. His skin was pale, blemishless, and pure. Pure as snow. Hard as marble. His sharp nose, his full lips, his arched brows. Everything about him was beautiful. As if he was cut from marble, shaped by elegant and artistic hands. Details you’d seen in statues at muggle museums. His hair was onyx, tousled like he ran his long and articulate fingers through the strands regularly. He stood tall. His back was straight. He looked angelic. But there was something dark around him. Shadows surrounded him. Clouding his body in a dark mist. His face distorted, the skin on his jaw pulled back, revealing bone and rotten flesh. The hill was no longer a grassy hilltop, but a hill of bones; skulls. He stood on them, as if he was a King. His face was slacked in determination and his eyes were hard. He was the victor of a battle, of a war. He no longer held an angelic look, but a demonic aura, full of darkness and evil. Yet his face, though rotting and had parts revealing bone, was the only place on his body that still looked angelic.

It was hard to look at him; she thought. He’s beautiful, was another thought of hers. It was as if her own mind was being torn in two, her thoughts constantly contraindicated each other. She didn’t know why. Why was she still looking at this beautiful monster? Why didn’t she run? Why was he calling her over?

“Who are you?” She called out to him. The man smirked, exposing the right side of his mouth, rotting. She shivered.

“Who are you?” She called out again, her voice trembled. “Death?”

The man chuckled, his voice booming all around her. As if she was in an echo chamber. She felt his laugh in her skull, rattling her bones.

“Sometimes.” He answered, smirking at the young Heiress. “But not today… little witch,”

The next thing she knew was that she was ripped from her dream in a cold sweat. But what she would later learn is that she could not remember the dream, nor the man, only the words: “Little witch,”

Translations:

spiritus malus = evil spirit (I used google translate for this, sorrry if I'm wrong)

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #reader instert #potential story #fanfic writer #dark story #little witch #tom riddles diary #tom marvolo riddle #lord voldemort #soulmate au #alternate universe #what if voldemort was hot when he took over the wizarding world? #voldy should've stayed hot instead of been noseless snakey boy #imagine all the simps (including me) who would've joined the dark side #join the dark side #death eaters #lucius malfoy #narcissa malfoy #malfoy reader #female reader #hope you enjoy this #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #draco lucius malfoy #tom riddle reincarnated #horcrux

[spidernana]

Day 3: Secret

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34214341/chapters/85234534

Once upon a time, there was a mountain.

This mountain was a lonely one, standing apart from the distant range of similar peaks in the distance, casting its shadow over the city of men that lay at its foot. It was surrounded by dense forest, deep lake waters, and a slowly melting glacier, its rounded, ancient top dusted with snow and its base lined with an aged but well maintained barbed wire fence. The fence had signs posted along its perimeter that declared it private property, but in truth, the mountain, the forest, and all its secrets belonged to no one.

The signs were there because of what lay beneath the rocks and the roots. The fence and its barbs tried to hold back adventurous souls from climbing the lonely mountain, in the hope that no one else would go missing, because among its dark and aged trees, within the many caves and deep shafts that dotted the cliffs and wending paths, many people had disappeared and never been found. The mountain was considered dangerous, perhaps even cursed, and likely riddled with hungry mine shafts determined to swallow up the unwitting.

The mountain had never been mined. There was no curse on those ancient grounds. No... there was instead a history, long forgotten, buried deep within the dormant volcano itself. There was a people, ash and dust, imprisoned there and left to rot. There was an old and consuming shadow, still wandering the halls and paths below, that hungered for release.

All else had perished. Scattered to the winds, so much power given to the hands of one who dared not ever return to, or even look upon, the mountain ever again. He had abandoned his world entirely, for a time, caught up in the games and caprices of warring gods and petty, fickle creators, and hadn't thought of the magickless world even once as he had explored the multiverse and seen sights beyond compare.

He returned now, though, half a world away from that forsaken and hollow mountain, stepping into being as the air about him snapped and crackled with his dark master's power, lent him for the sake of spreading Nightmare's shadow across all worlds. He shrugged twice, settling a stained and aged blue jacket back evenly onto his broad shoulders, and crooked his head side to side as he shook the remaining dregs of the Void from himself, cracking the visible vertebrae his neck was composed of.

His empty sockets swept the horizon with practiced caution, long years of running and being attacked, both with provocation and without, teaching him well; the grasses of the flat and nearly featureless plain he had appeared in bent beneath the touch of a gentle breeze, barren and uninterrupted for miles but for a single, small log cabin. The sun was starting to set, throwing shadows from the scattered and widely spread trees across the fields and coloring the sky with a bursting of reds and pinks and golds, reflecting off the heavily curtained windows of the cabin he now approached, the gravel of the front path quiet beneath his careful heel.

A thin finger of smoke rose from the chimney stack atop the roof, carrying to him the scents of cooking meat and baking bread, and from beyond the curtained windows, there came the sound of music, accompanied by unpracticed but pleasant singing. A smirk split the bone of his face, the corrupted magic streaking from his sockets and his mouth glinting in the setting sun, the target floating before his hollow chest gleaming as wickedly as his twisted smile.

She'd never hear him coming.

The door, well oiled and unlocked (tsk tsk...), opened and shut behind him without a sound, sparse but comfortable furniture lined the rooms he snuck through on the way to the kitchen, its light illuminating the doorframe. The music and singing grew louder, the clanking of dishes and the rush of water giving away the occupant's position, and as he bent around the doorframe, sockets locked on her turned back, a long, gleamingly sharp knife slid from within his sleeve, falling with practiced ease into his skeletal palm.

His steps were silent across the tile floor as he slipped into the room with the grace of a shadow, his posture that of a stalking predator as he drew near enough to smell the soap in her freshly washed hair (lavender... his favorite), the knife shone steady and deadly in his hand... before he pounced, his free arm winding around her waist from behind and his hand, knife glinting in the overhead light, slamming down against the kitchen counter hard enough to embed the blade a few inches into the wood.

The woman in his grasp let out a shriek, thrashing wildly against his hold, but he pressed her against the edge of the counter with his hips against her rear, pinning her with his greater weight and size, and turned his skull to press his bony lips to her ear through her shoulder length, chestnut brown hair-

“didn't i tell you to keep that door locked~”

Her squirming and shouting ceased immediately, her form losing all the rigidity that surprise and fear had lent it. She turned in his grasp, bright brown eyes framed by long, dark lashes finding his sockets, before a smile lit up her pretty face, framed by poofy locks of hair and flecked with a few suds from her washing. Her expression shifted into affected anger a moment later, though, and one of her hands roe to slap his shoulder gently (as though even her hardest attempt could harm him now... he'd gained far too much LV at this point to flinch from even knife wounds), her brows lowering over those beautiful, luminous eyes and her full lips pulling into a frown.

“Sans!! Jesus, you scared me!” Frisk chastised even as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against the front of his without fear and her lips to his bony pair without flinching, and just that gesture, just the sound of his long abandoned name and the trust he could feel emanating from her, stole every last dreg of his breath from him, as it did every time he returned to her.

He'd almost forgotten his name, truth be told, by the time he'd come back to his world in search of fate. The years had been hard and long, and his corruption ran deep in his twisted shade of a soul, stealing more and more memories of before from him as time trickled on. He hadn't needed that name, anyway, so he hadn't cared for its fleeting memory... no one else had called him Sans since the last life he'd taken in the Underground.

He'd been Killer for so long that when he had finally found her, had stolen her from her miserable life in the city and brought her here, to keep her safe and hidden from the grasp of his master, that he hadn't known how to introduce himself. She, unlike many of the other worlds he'd been to, had never fallen into his Underground. He had never met her, befriended her... been betrayed by her, or betrayed her in turn, as many of his companions had.

It had felt like the fresh start that it truly was, a second chance at a life he'd long disparaged. He'd given up the love that he'd seen many others by his name give chase to, focused only on ascending to the highest level of power any monster had ever achieved... but then, Nightmare had told him, and his companions, of his past. What had caused his fall from grace, the reason for the never ending war with his brother, the real motivation behind his trail of conquests, and what he intended to rebuild from the ashes of those he had ruined.

He was gathering Frisks, all who were bonded, or could be bonded, with Sans coded monsters, and using the power of their souls to reclaim his own lost love, a celestial being that had, long ago, divided her stardust infused heart among all the universes, to bless other’s lives and experience true love untainted by her lovers’ warring.

Nightmare's mission was to find and retrieve as many of their souls as he could, to take back the pieces of his beloved's heart and rebuild it. He knew his brother intended the same, both struck with a jealous and possessive love of the same perfect being, and so was utterly ruthless in his quest to find her first, taking the bits of stardust back the only way he knew how.

None had yet survived the process.

His long dead soul had flinched back, at the knowledge of what Nightmare was doing, that he so callously destroyed both universes and others' soul bonds to benefit himself. He had been sickened, even, by the understanding that his own fated mate, left behind without thought before that moment in his ruined world, would suffer that same fate, unless he did something. Could he live with that, with the knowledge that his own inaction had robbed him of a love he wasn't even sure he wanted?

He found the answer to be one he had not anticipated: no. No, he could not.

And so he had acted. He had taken his Frisk, and brought her to a place far from where anyone would think to look for her. He had blatantly lied to his master, telling him that he had killed his Frisk himself, in his Underground. He had even enlisted the help of his compatriots, who he had been more than a little surprised to hear had had much the same reaction that he had, and had all taken measures to secure their own Frisks, to keep them away from Nightmare's cruel and gluttonous consumption.

They kept each other's secrets, now... secrets that would undoubtedly end in their deaths, should the god of night and negativity discover what they had done and meant to keep from him.

It was a difficult and complicated thing, of course, for beings such as they to attempt romance in their condition. They were to a one corrupted, polluted by their lust for power and death and blood, driven half insane by tainted magic and changed forever by the deeds of their hands and the sins on their backs. Learning to feel, to change their ways and accept love, not LV, into their souls had a steep learning curve, and he knew perfectly well that he had failed more times than he'd succeeded.

And yet there she stood, an impossible and fragile mortal being, looking up the few inches that separated their heights with a gently chastising pout on her face, her soul emanating utter adoration and trust and the love he'd never known he'd craved before he’d received it without qualm. Before his chest, the floating target shaped itself into a heart of its own volition, warmth both alien and welcome touched his cold and weary bones, and his arms wound more gently around her waist, bending to bump his forehead against hers meaningfully.

“heh heh... i couldn't tell,” he murmured, smirking in the way that he knew would get her heart racing- and there it was, thumping against his ribcage like a drum. He let out a quiet, rumbling growl in response, backing her up against the edge of the counter and bending his head to nuzzle at the crook of her neck and shoulder, against the scarred indentation of his teeth that he could smell even through the material of her dress.

His... all his.

Something he had never thought he would say.

He felt, more than saw, her blush in response to his heavy-handedness, to the rumble of his growl, and within his chest, he felt his soul, before her influence long dead and silent, give the slightest twitch. It wasn’t completely pleasant… some days, he thought it would have been better for it to remain cold and hollow, keeping up the charade of his manic glee and glorying in the kill, in the misery of others to minimize his own.

Those thoughts were always short-lived. He would be lost in the morose, macabre vacillations of his mind, on the edge of madness and the Void, and then she would touch his hand, send him a smile, and say the name that he had nearly forgotten, he would feel her love suffusing the air around him, and everything but her would fade. Having her was the closest to normal (or the monster he’d been before the demon’s possession, at least) that he’d been in his memory, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Frisk, giggling quietly at the feeling of his breath on her neck, pulled away only when he’d had his apparent fill of her scent, the feel of her pressed against him (to feel, after so long living in the cold and the dark… there was nothing like it. A sweet overabundance, such that sometimes, he could do nothing but marvel at simple emotions like joy and amusement, untainted by murder and dust-), to look closely at his face, one hand tracing along his jawline carefully, lovingly, her brows low with concern.

He couldn’t keep himself from leaning his cheekbone into her palm, all but purring from the fullness of her pure love, the care and worry she felt for him, most undeserving of all. If the others could see him now… he’d never live it down.

He suspected, though, that they were all indulging much the same as he was.

“You were gone for a long time this time. I was worried about you,” she murmured, in their closeness, and a pang of guilt shot through him, dire and turbulent and cutting deep, so much deeper than he was sure most would feel. It attested to his long departure from feeling anything at all, he could only suppose… stars, it hurt to let her down, though.

“i’m sorry. work’s been keeping me busy… boss has really been riding my tailbone, heh,” he excused as best he could with a grimace; it was absolutely true, though she had no idea just how much so… he had been forced to come up with an abundance of excuses for why he was failing so many missions, to attempt to hide the fact that his companions were taking the Frisks for themselves, rather than delivering them to their master, and Nightmare was starting to lose his patience.

He was going to have to start bringing them to him again soon. He already knew it was going to hurt, knowing he was causing the deaths of fair creatures with his mate’s face, simply to save his own hide.

Thankfully, he was still selfish enough to excuse it as necessary. He’d do anything to keep his own Frisk safe and well... anything.

That fierce protectiveness was what had pressed him to bring her here, so far from civilization, her life before, anyone else at all. It had been, in part, what he had told her… his lie to Nightmare could only be preserved if no one had her face in their mind for the godlike being to find in their dreams. But the lengths that he’d gone to… they had all been selfish ones, just as selfish as his decision to sacrifice others to keep her safe. He’d brought her to the very edge of the world, killed everyone she’d known before without hesitation, and had kept her here, the center of his dark world.

Jealous possessiveness was an odd emotion, and he didn’t really like the influence it had over him. He’d done everything he could to remove it, so quickly that his work had almost been messy. But it was a necessity, in his mind, as spontaneous as it had been.

He was no longer surprised by that, though. He had always been impulsive, ever since the building of his corruption... it was the way that his soul had been twisted, separating him even further from the monster he'd used to be. He had been described as flighty, careless, reckless, and unthinking many times, and had taken a lot of damage through the years because of it... his impulsiveness seemed to apply to her as well.

It was just so impossible to resist her, to see her and feel her and do his best to love her. She was truly perfect, made for him in every way, and he could only be thankful that she was so patient with him, disappearing for days at a time and coming home to her with only the barest of explanations. He knew she was suspicious… anyone would be, considering just how long he would be gone, the new cracks in his bones, his manic energy, almost always ending with her beneath him in their bed, only moments after he’d stumbled through the door, jabbing knives into all the furniture and inflicting his poor sense of humor on her-

She never complained, though. She was such a bright and giving soul, selfless and wholesome in a way he never could be. And yet… being with her… she made him want to try.

She looked up at him with such calm and patient understanding, even though he let her down… though he wasn’t nearly the partner to her that she deserved. He was a wretch, a selfish and grasping shade of who she had been destined to be with, before his fall… and yet she had accepted him, somehow and impossibly. And yet, her smile grew across her face to wipe away her concern, her cheek dropping to press against his chest, to sway with him in time with the beat of their fated souls.

“I’m just glad you’re here. It’s never the same, with you gone,” she whispered, her eyes drifting shut and her love sinking again into his bones to fill his with a warmth and a light so pervasive it edged on pain. His soul twitched again, brought to life by the wonderful, impossible, heavenly creature in his arms, and in his sockets, creased with a truly heartfelt smile, a crimson light flickered for a moment, unbeknownst to him.

All he could do was hold her back, and sway along with her, and attempt to understand his incredible luck, aching and not caring in the least.

He’d never understood the other Sans’ obsession with their Frisks. It had seemed baseless, a waste to spend so much time and energy and thought on a mortal being that would cut their lifespans short by many hundreds of years… he’d never understood how they could love a human so completely.

He understood now.

It was worth it, without question. All the pressure from Nightmare, the guilt starting to eat at him the more and more that his soul came back to life, the failures to be a good mate to her, the anxiety of keeping this huge and life-altering secret… his shorter lifespan, the reawakening of his soul, the slow, trickling loss of his LV as her love replaced it. It was worth it all, every second. And as he lifted her chin and turned his head to meet her lips with his, he knew he'd do it all over again in the blink of an eye, despite it all.

He knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

#franstober #frans #killer #my own metaverse #day 3 #secret #fluff

[twis-world]

The Remedy That Is You (Leona Version)

Mentions: Leona-Centric, Fluff, Second Person, Gender Neutral Read, Pretty Used As A Gender Neutral Term

No matter how many a time the students of Nightraven College witnessed how their Housewarden did a complete 180 in your presence, it never ceased to amaze them.

It eventually got to the point where a majority of students began to question if you really were magickless. There was just no way your mere presence could bring out such light in their eyes, face softening and a smile so tender it was as if they were gazing upon one of the Seven.

Just how did you do it?

Leona

Everything was so grating.

Leona didn’t know what it was, truthfully. The moment he awoke feeling a little too warm with too painfully bright sun rays flooding into his room, he knew it would be a bad day. His usual favorite meat tasting off during breakfast, the usual bustle of his dorm aggravating his sensitive ears, the utter lack of energy he felt to even move. It was irritating.

The leech in his room made it no better.

“Leona!” Ruggie huffed for what felt like the hundredth time that day, expression one of pure and utter exasperation. The veins in hands were bulging from the other strength it was taking to continuously pull at the other’s vest, a poor attempt at trying to get Leona to budge if not just a little. “We already talked about this. I don’t care if you miss half the day, but you can’t miss today's test! Professor Crewel is going to skin you alive after all the weeks of prep!”

“Quit it” Leona growled, brows furrowing as he swiped at Ruggie’s hands, not bothering to open his eyes once. “You’re going to stretch out my clothes.”

“What? The crown prince can’t be bothered to get new ones?” Ruggie strained, ignoring the demand as he continued to pull. “You would make me go out and get them for you anyways…”

Realizing that his efforts were in vain, the hyena released the fabric with a loud sigh before turning to the open doorway. “Where are our reinforcements?!”

Leona didn’t bother to listen to whatever response was shouted in return, shifting to a new position now that the offending hands were off of him. He shoved his face into his pillow, flopping from his side onto his stomach. The cool fabric felt nice on his face compared to the natural warmth of the dorm, a soothing balm to the stress of the bothersome day.

Well, it was nice until he sensed another presence entering his room just a minute later. His tail flicked in noticeable irritation, anger beginning to brew within his gut. What wasn’t getting through these imbeciles' heads? Was he actually going to have to knock some sense into them all? The idea didn’t sound too bad, especially if he could get his irritation out in some way…

Before he could spiral further into such dark thoughts a familiar touch ran down his hair. Gentle fingers easily detangling knots with such care that his own body relaxed without his permission. It was almost scary how easily his vessel recognized the touch of his other half, his herbivore without even having to lay eyes on them. Their scent just as effortlessly soothed his aching mind, turning his brain into mush without a thought to fight back. 

He hadn’t even realized he began purring until your chuckles filled the air, smile unflinching when he finally opened his eyes to glare at you. “I don’t recall telling you to stop,” he mumbled, words muffled with one side of his face practically smothered. 

“Someones grumpy today,” you teased, resuming your ministrations. You made sure your nails just barely scratched his scalp, amusement shining in your eyes at how the rumbles in his chest grew. He refused to answer, instead trying to drown himself in the pleasure your loving hand gave him. It was childish, yes, but this was so much better than whatever lecture you were sure to give him. It took that blissful hand lightly pinching one of his ears for his eyes to shoot open and give you his full attention with an almost genuine glare. “Nu-uh mister. Time to get out of bed. You’ve given Ruggie enough grief for a whole lifetime just about now.”

“I didn't ask him to be my babysitter,” he responded with an eye roll. “Such an unnecessary nuisance.”

“Hey, be nice.” Another pinch to his ear resulted in a growl, but you showed no fear as you stared down at him. “He’s looking out for you, cause seven knows that if it weren’t for him you would have long since become a hermit. Worse than Idia.”

A smirk grew on his face, huffing as he finally began to sit up. “When did my herbivore become so insulting.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Ever since I got dragged away from my beloved lunch just to get your lazy butt out of bed.” You continued to stare him down for a few seconds before your face softened. “Are you okay? I know you have your days sometimes but never enough for Ruggie to send for me.” A few moments of silence passed. “...that’s a lie, I mean not enough for Ruggie to send several lackeys dragging me kicking and screaming with no explanation other than panicked gibberish.”

Leona huffed a small laugh but you didn’t get to see much of it before he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a tight embrace, one you didn’t hesitate to embrace. A small laugh escaped you when he nuzzled into your neck, soft ears tickling your skin. The smug grin you felt growing on his face as well didn’t escape your notice, but you paid it no mind as you once again began petting his hair. “Everything just feels too bothersome today, nothing to worry your pretty head over.”

“You sure?” You replied softly, staring at the wall behind him in thought. “I wouldn’t mind writing to Professor Crewel to give you an extension. I know you have an important test today.”

It was his turn to laugh, pulling away from your neck but still keeping contact with you. Hands softly squeezed your hips, and he sighed as he gently laid his forehead against yours, refusing to look away from your gaze. “Such a good little herbivore, breaking the rules for me.” He laughed once more at the obvious flush growing up your neck, slowly spreading to your face as you glanced everywhere but him. Adorable. “Nah,” he started, returning his face to your neck and tightening his grip on you. “Just give me a bit. I want to enjoy you just a little longer.”

The flustered scolding you gave him just furthered his amusement, but he decided to give some mercy and instead decided to remain in content silence. One you held to objection too.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad day after all.

#twisted wonderland #x reader #gender neautral reader #fluff #x gender neutral reader #disney twisted wonderland #leona #leona kingscholar #leona twst #leona kingsholar x reader #leona twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #gender neutral reader

[heranubis]

read me on archive

In every way it could possibly be said, Lilia was old. Even by the standards of Faer and those who possess a magick for eternal life, he was a mentor. He had seen the rise and fall of many great things. He had even served in the war, Faer against Human. His shoulders still carry the burden of his scars.

It is to no ones surprise at NRC when Lilia, seemingly randomly, acts far beyond his years - they see him as a young boy, maybe around the age of Sebek or even Malleus. But he has seen the sun rise far more than he has seen it fall. Very few are aware of this knowledge.

It is only when a human, magickless and alone, appears seemingly out of nowhere that people truly notice Lilia. Many would not describe him as sweet, but not even sugar compares when he is around his favorite human. He is always bright smiles and closed eyes, always in their shadow.

Though none would dare to say it, it was obvious. Lilia Vanrouge was in love, and with a human - perhaps the most painful experience for any creature of magick. But especially so for those with lives as long as the Faer.

His love is not hidden, and his touch never wavers as he holds his human close. He adores them, and he knows in turn they would do anything for him. And they do - without question, they never hesitate at his side. But there is one thing they cannot do.

"I love you," Lilia whispers, as he presses himself close and allows their scent to cloud his mind. "I love you, I am in love with you." His hold tightens when his human sighs and gentle hands move to run through his hair. He knows what they will say, answer never different. Yet, it still hurts.

"It'll pass, Lilia. You love me, perhaps more than I could ever love you, but it'll pass. I'm just a human, and despite it all, I will never see eternity. I love you, but it'll pass."

Lilia knows he is being selfish, but he does not care. With his arms wrapped tightly around his human and face buried in their chest, he will lay here with them for as long as he has. He does not care if they think his love is excusable. Because he knows - he will never love like this, never again in his long life.

#heranubis #twisted wonderland #lilia vanrouge x reader

[cottonfeltgembira]

Mnemosyne's keyblade Aeternum + some outfits! (Zoom in for better quality!!)

Also DiaAETERNUM I would like to elaborate on that :3c :

With Nem's powers as a keyblade wielder being time based, it's essentially a perfect match that he's both well acquainted with Malleus and wears the diasomnia uniform as reference to Maleficent keeping Aurora asleep for a hundred years hence Aeternum = Eternal

After all , Eternal sleep is just death >:3c

Also based on KHUX, if a keyblade wielder can take down Maleficent then Malleus has no chance against a keyblade master gone rouge so a boss battle with The Seven against Nem's would be super fucking cool (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ a very dangerous and risky fight that requires them to work together to knock some sense into their dear friend!!

+ since Nem's is essentially magickless without his keyblade, he can't overblot but is still prone to falling to darkness which is what happens with DiaAternum

#twst #kingdom hearts #kh #keyblade #twst oc #khux oc #khux #Twisted Wonderland

[octariane]

It's 2:30 in the morning and this is going to make absolutely NO coherent sense but I still believe the Belos is Phillip theory after this episode. Bear with me here:

Belos is still Phillip Whittebane. While looking for a way home, it's possible that Phillip's brother became more comfortable in the Demon Realm. Maybe he had a family-- maybe with the mentioned great grandmother of the Clawthornes (owing explanation as to how Eda seemed to intricately know Belos), or with the Witch that had originally "tricked" the two of them into entering. Phillip, upset that his brother left his life behind and was content with living on the Isles, maybe created a new portal and was going to force his brother and himself to enter, leaving them back on earth. This failed, though, and only Phillip's brother was sent back. This explains how the townspeople learned what happened even though the both of them had gone missing. Maybe his spouse or child then cursed Phillip using wild magic, giving credence to the line "wild magic has destroyed our family". The reason Belos would have Hunter call him uncle is because he's literally Hunters actual uncle or a great uncle. This would also explain Hunter being magickless and mentioning several of his ancestors being magickless. This also might explain as to why the bird palisman is sticking with Hunter-- we know that patterns with palismen get passed down through families (with Dana calling owls a "Clawthorne thing), and one of the brothers had a bird that looked like the palismen on his shoulder.

This, however, doesn't explain the 400 year gap. Or the grimwalker thing. We know that Witches and Humans have approximately the same lifespan and are practically the same despite a few morphological differences. I wonder if the same curse Belos has has gifted him with a longer lifespan. At the same time, though, why only begin his takeover of the isles within the last 50 years?

#the owl house #toh #the owl house spoilers #toh spoilers #phillip whittebane #emperor belos #toh theory

[zozoladybug16]

Happy birthday Simon Snow!!!!!

We love you in all your dragon, human, confused, depressed, queer, magickless, in love, and amazing glory!!!!!❤️❤️❤️

#carry on #wayward son #any way the wind blows #rainbow rowell #snowbaz #simon snow #happy birthday #dragon boi