magicalshift

[magicalshift]

@daisyscape asked: The first voicemail Faust leaves Merry comes in the morning, the sound of clinking pots carrying through the receiver with his voice. "Merry ! Haven't heard from you in a while, so I just wanted to check on you. Oh—" A shuffle and a click of his tongue. "That's not sugar... it's salt. Oh well, it'll still taste fine. Anyway, I'll call again in a little while !"

"A little while" turns out to be that night, another voicemail coming in. This time Faust can be heard yelling over a cacophony of music and chatter in the background. "Merry ! Tried to call again, but you're probably busy, yeah ? When you go to sleep, don't forget to put on some socks so nothing nibbles on your toes. Sweet dreams !" Unfortunately, Faust forgets to click off the call, and for several more moments, his laughter and bubbly voice mix with the chatter around him.

The last voicemail comes in the early hours of the middle of the night. Unlike before, Faust's voice is layered with exhaustion and drowsiness yet still soft. "Merry, dear ? Sorry for calling again, but... are you okay? I'm worried about you." It's obvious he's hesitant, like testing tumultuous waters one shouldn't breach. "I know Florian and I probably aren't easy to talk to. But we're here for you, okay ? Call me whenever you like, I'll pick up. Love you." Click.  

it hasn’t always been this bad. not really. there’s always been something fundamentally off about merry, and they’ve been aware of it their entire life ⁠— it’s like they’re dislocated a half - inch to the left from where they’re meant to be in this world, and that difference has him brushing up against sharp edges with every movement. it tears into the very flesh of his being, and nothing heals so nothing can scar. he’s just stuck bleeding, more and more with every movement in this world.

and it’s one of those days where those wounds on its spirit are particularly tender and now there’s some blot catching in its throat.

the first time faust calls, merry’s hands are gripping the edge of the sink, chest heaving as he makes sure he’s done coughing for now. some black drips over his lips, the bathroom door magicked shut so they have a little time to clean up should anyone try to come in.

moments later the voicemail notification pops up, and it clicks play as it wipes the last remnants of blot from its lips and scoops water from the faucet into its hands to swish around in its mouth.

he’ll have to call faust back later.

he doesn’t.

---

the second voicemail is listened to in the forest that backs up to campus. their phone’s atop their jacket on the ground in this place they escape to when they need to.

they can burn off magic here. they can self - destruct. getting here’s not hard, even if other students might get lost on their way; but these woods aren’t that unlike those of the valley, and navigating them doesn’t take much for someone as good at getting lost as merry is.

merry’s all fire as it listens to the voicemail ⁠— listens to the music and chatter behind faust’s voice, listens to what it can hear when faust doesn’t hang up. the fire burns a blazing blue. the trees char. a half - inch becomes an inch, and something has to give.

merry curls in on themself in the middle of the burnt - black clearing, tears falling freely. they can’t tell if they’re choking on sobs or blot until they’re throwing some up, shoulders heaving and shaking.

---

merry listens to the third voicemail shortly after it’s delivered, staring up at the stone ceiling of his diasomnia bedroom. he hasn’t slept.

he cries again, but this time it’s less violent. this time it’s a hopeless sort of thing, aching and burning. he’s not good. he’s unfair and ———

[ text:Faust ] yeah i’m okay!! sorry for worrying you [ text:Faust ] busy time over here with interschool stuff coming up lol [ text:Faust ] i’ll call tomorrow

it was easier when they were closer, back in the valley.

merry doesn’t know how to be left behind.

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for anyone wondering how my ocs connect with each other, some canons, and some friends’ ocs ( dove, mick, and rain )

please open the full image and zoom in to witness everything, because there is... a lot lol

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unblot​:

If he’s being honest, Rielle mostly regrets going out tonight. Sure, it’s always nice to see live music, especially from an artist who’s he’s actually invested in. But nothing had gone as planned. He’d slipped up, blown his cover, & not even halfway into the setlist the crowd had gathered around him instead of the actual musicians. Before he knew it Rielle was getting swarmed with people asking for his picture, asking his autograph, & even asking him to get on stage with the band. 

It didn’t matter how nicely he refused, it didn’t matter that all he’d wanted was a night to have fun. All he is to anyone is his voice. All he’s ever been to anyone is his voice. The only one in the room who maybe would have been different was too hurt seeing his brother take away his moment to see how much it hurt Rielle too. Rielle still hurts remembering the look on Rowan’s face as Rielle yet again makes another scene before leaving the club. 

Despite his early departure, Rielle’s still late getting back. He’d gone out to forget his problems, & he wasn’t intending on going home until they’re forgotten. But the effort doesn’t do much good when Rielle steps foot in the dorm & he’s given a reminder of every problem he’s ever had in the form of Barney Graves sitting on the other side of the room. 

“  Could I?  ”  Danger quivers in the prince’s voice as he speaks. Everything he’d been keeping in tonight bubbles in the pit of his stomach, threatening to boil over. “  So you could tell on me to Raphael again?  ”  

It’s been months since either of them had brought up the topic of his eldest brother. After Rielle had forgiven Graves for his betrayal of his trust, they’d both agreed not to talk about it. & they hadn’t…not until now at least. “  Well you can tell him that he’ll be pleased to know that I had an awful time. I know that’s the only thing either of you care about. As long as I’m not having fun you’re happy, right? Are you happy, Graves? Huh?!  ”

Rielle’s being unfair. He’s lashing out at Graves for something that was forgiven a long time ago. He knows that. He just doesn’t care. Everything else has gone horribly wrong tonight. Rielle has already ruined his night & his brother’s gig. What’s one more thing? 

rielle lashes out, and graves’ expression remains level. he’s good at this — burying his own emotional reactions is something that’s always come naturally to him, the young noble always composed no matter what he may be staring down. he closes his book, his hand resting over its cover.

“ this has nothing to do with your brother, ” graves responds, and he doesn’t bother explaining that he hasn’t spoken to prince raphael in nearly two months. betraying rielle’s trust was never his intent, and the fracture in that trust that reaching out to rielle’s eldest brother caused when he felt he had no other options is not something graves is particularly eager to widen.

“ would you rather i sleep with my phone on silent, not worrying about you until i find out if you made it back in the morning?? you’re a prince, rielle, and a former idol. you’re lucky to be at this school with no more security or eyes on you than just mine. ” and every time he sneaks out, he’s taking a risk. and every time he sneaks out without saying anything, graves can’t help but worry it will be the last time.

graves folds his book under his arm as he stands up, some of his composure slipping to reveal some hidden hurt swimming in his grey eyes. his jaw sets in protest of that lack of composure. his voice doesn’t raise above a speaking volume. “ i want you to have fun, but i need you to be careful. if you can’t find it in yourself to trust me, find someone you can find it in yourself to trust. ”

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lines in that reply that mean more than they have any right to:

but they’re merciful and say nothing about the ugly scene. that’s all any of this is, including aster’s frustration: ugly.

it’s beautiful in its simplicity, the mess necessary to create that beauty tucked neatly out of sight.

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@unblot​ asked: "Please let me help." Despite the plea voiced, Salem doesn't appear to be willing to take a refusal. Maybe it's not necessary to offer their aid like this. But they saw the way Aster's mother and sister were behaving before this mess was made. It felt all too familiar in ways Salem would never wish upon another living person.

If Aster is anything like them, she won't want attention drawn to it. But that doesn't mean Salem can't help in another way. They pick up a torn piece of embroidered cloth from the ground among the rest of discarded things. "This is pretty. Did you make this?"

“ oooooo — ” once her family is out of earshot, aster briefly lets her frustration get the best of her. her hands idly move up to her red hair, pulling it up off her neck to just hold against the crown of her head; it gets the weight of her thick curls off her heated neck as she flushes, it gives her something to do with her hands, it gives her a moment to breathe and think.

deep breath in. hold for seven. deep breath out.

finally aster’s attention shifts from its unseeing focus on the mess left behind to actually see salem. she knows what they saw, of course — but they’re merciful and say nothing about the ugly scene. that’s all any of this is, including aster’s frustration: ugly. another cycle of deep breathing, eyes briefly shutting, and aster lets her hair fall gracefully around her shoulders once more. “ i tried to get into painting, but i’m no good with a paint brush, ” she explains as an answer. “ embroidery is kind of like watching flowers grow. ” it’s beautiful in its simplicity, the mess necessary to create that beauty tucked neatly out of sight.

she leans down, although that leaning quickly becomes sitting on her knees on the stone floor when she feels her balance give, to pick up some of the other fabric and spools, wondering at the way dahlia finds the time to continue to team up with mother like this despite being married. her face is still flushed as she picks everything up, and it’s only a moment more before that warmth focuses as a stinging in the corners of her eyes. she does what she can to blink that feeling away, making another small sound of frustration at herself as she lifts a hand to wipe at her right eye. “ sorry. normally we’re better at — ” she waves vaguely with her other hand, struggling to find the words for a moment. the continuation of the thought comes out quieter than the first part: “ keeping all this to ourselves. ” 

she clears the thickness from her throat. “ mother’s been stressed lately. ” and it feels like everything’s crumbling.

[magicalshift]

i added a bunch of ocs to my muse page ( most still need actual about pages but that is a lot of work lmfao ) so, like... [ twirls my hair ] send me asks

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@daisyscape​ asked: River will never know how Rielle deals with Graves checking in on him like this. Maybe he should start charging Rie every time he’s caught - just compensation for hearing Graves’ mouth. He’s partly tempted to just stay under the covers, pretending to be asleep, in some effort to preserve this ruse of theirs, but he has a feeling Graves will see through him anyways. “I’m feeling a bit under the weather, Graves,” River replies from under the covers in a terrible impersonation of Rielle, not that he’s actually trying to come off has convincing. “Feeling sick without my boyfriend, Jade, whom I love so very much and can barely go a day without seeing. I’m definitely not thinking of sneaking out to go see him or anything.”

the fact that rielle has yet to realize it’s easier on himself and graves if he just tells graves when he’s slipping away to night raven college instead of insisting on this futile secrecy is astounding. graves can count the number of times he’s not found out the truth on one hand. on two fingers, to be exact.

and so here the vice housewarden is, staring at the bundle of blankets that makes up one of the older nerites’ brothers’ poor disguise... if it can even be called that. “ of course you’re not thinking about sneaking out to go see him because you already have... river, ” he replies, his voice flat with a remarkable lack of amusement.

“ is rielle gone for the weekend, or just the night?? ”

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this blog and yuudai just using assets from the game for graphics... genius

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MAGICALSHIFT : an iconless ORIGINAL CHARACTER MULTI - MUSE for DISNEY TWISTED - WONDERLAND, as imagined and written by plant ⸺ featuring nrc and rsa students and faculty, as well as miscellaneous characters to flesh out the world itself. about pages are a work in progress.

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rowan doesn't have a label or anything and publishes his own music as just ROWAN. it's upbeat party stuff, edm - style and adjacent for the most part. he does small shows and stuff too, often at clubs. while he doesn’t have a proper band, he does have a few friends he’ll regularly collab or at least put on shows with.

that said, he does have a second “ band ” ( it's all him in both accounts lmfao ) simply named “ aristocrat. ”. this one has a different sound and releases music much more sporadically — these tracks are much more personal to him, too, and every instrument and vocal is done by him. no one knows both artists are the same person. think this sort of sound and vibe for the secret one, and you can check out most of that entire album for more of the vibe. this second “ band ” is an enigma and never does performances or anything, and even lacks much of a social media presence except for the occasional introspective fantasy - tweet and the obligatory here’s a new track posts.

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little update for everyone which will also double as a to - do list

because i’m about to be very limited on laptop time until mid - july, i’m not going to bother making these changes to this blog unless it’s all my brain can handle doing when i do get laptop time, but some changes are coming:

this blog will be going iconless for my sanity

i will most likely be moving merry over onto this blog

i have two ocs to add that i am working on: erinnes “ erin ” arcas agonius, twisted from hermes, nrc’s secretary; and a still - unnamed rsa gym teacher and magift coach twisted from philoctetes. don’t ask why i’m ending up with two hercules ocs. i couldn’t tell you.

oh this is a reminder for me that no one should care about but i want to make sure i see it again when i go to update the blog itself: change from roman numerals to character names please dear god

i think that’s it for now... i want to write over here more and i think forgoing icons and compiling all my ocs here will help me with that. a lot of them have little to no development right now, and i do want to change that. with that in mind... feel free to hit me up for some plot discussion for any of the ocs in question, including the two i have yet to properly add and likely won’t for some time.

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exceptone​:

“Don’t look annoyed.  Maybe I’m talking about the other one.”

please don’t drag him into this conversation...

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rowan does drop out of school in the second half of his fourth year lol

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new offer!! i receive: ask for graves. you receive: ask from graves.

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exceptone​:

Piper’s eyes widen at the accusation — well, no, it’s very much not that, and they realize that as soon as their head lifts to actually look at him properly.  Oh, god, he’s sort of familiar, isn’t he?  The many faces from their youth tend to blur together, but the story brings back memories of grey eyes and the absolutely explosive (  literally  ) tantrum they’d thrown.  It had been worse than most of her others, at least prior to Jean, and so the memory clings just a bit.

And, yet, the surprised reaction need not mean guilt; what brother wouldn’t be surprised to have his HORRIBLE SISTER brought into the equation?  So Pearce constructs a shallow smile that’s half - apology for his sister, half - teasing for nothing at all.  “Oh, god, you met my sister, huh?”  She laughs and it’s all HIM, and a hand raises to push her bangs back from her forehead.  “Piper, yeah.  My twin sister.  Stupid, naive, childish, useless and annoying…”  They could go on / just like their parents could.  Ugly, pathetic, unnecessary child.  Worthless thing.  No one will want you so what good are you to us?  “Lighting an entire room on fire sounds about right.”

They remember it, if hazily (  childhood a blur of staring at their locked door and the forests with jean  ).  They’re fairly sure they’d thrown that tantrum because Mom wanted her to apologize for saying something rude.  But they’d felt trapped, angry they couldn’t leave, angry they were in a dress they could barely move in that they hadn’t picked, angry that Mom and Dad were trying to pawn them off to this family and this boy they didn’t know.  Pearce laughs.  Piper’s skin crawls.  “Let me guess…my parents were trying to get the brat married off, yeah?”

GRAVES MAY BE stern and rather no - nonsense, but he’s not mean. he doesn’t indulge in the meanness of others, either, so when pearce insults his sister like that graves does little to acknowledge it even as he listens politely. “ we were young, ” is his own dismissive rationale of the events of the night. “ she wasn’t any worse than anyone else our age at the time. ” so he’s not completely dismissing that maybe she acted out too much, but children of noble families tend to be spoiled and dramatic more often than not, so... that’s to be expected. his parents had joked that they planned on getting that room remodeled anyway.

BUT THE MEMORY is fuzzy, so much more than the fact that she didn’t stand out much is lost on him until pearce brings up their parents wanting to get her married off. graves blinks as part of a conversation he was too young to fully grasp at the time but old enough to ponder comes back to him. “ they were, yes. my parents have never supported arranged marriages, though, so that went nowhere. ” love, they want him to marry for, but he finds it more likely he’ll marry in a way that is practical and pragmatic, even if that is neither here nor there at eighteen years old.

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unblot​:

the mention of the name brings a raised eyebrow to floyd’s face, the eel looking both amused & bewildered by this predicament. ❛   eh? barney? —   ❜  he tilts his head to the side, drawing back a little so he may look at graves properly. floyd looks almost thoughtful as he gives the other a glance over but there’s a pause & his expression quickly shifts into something more mischievous. he shifts back to press into the older boy, smile growing wider & sharper as he says.   ❛   heh, guess you’re more of a barnacle than i thought. barneyyyy ~   ❜

a delighted giggle follows floyd’s words, the boy absolutely tickled pink by the situation & the irony within it. so much that he’s willing to refer to graves by his own name as opposed to any sort of nickname floyd had given. this is a feat that would have seemed impossible unless you were jade or azul but – floyd sees little point if someone’s name is as close to their chosen nickname anyway. 

❛   y’know somethin’ barney?   ❜  floyd tilts his head to the side, once again looking thoughtful as he reaches to take graves’ textbook from him. the leech then proceeds to toss it on the other side of the room, the book landing shut with a hearty thud. floyd smiles.  ❛   – your book looks pretty boring. let’s do something else.    ❜

WHY DID HE not realize to say his last name only... graves is full of visible regret as floyd looks him over once. it’s been a while since he’s been called barney instead of simply graves, with even rielle reserving his first name to moments of anger to really drive them home. but floyd has already heard what he’d prefer to be called and elected to ignore that, so. graves sighs, going back to his book — or trying to, at least, but floyd leans into him again and he’s forced to accept how impossible this is going to be.

SO WHEN FLOYD plucks the book easily from his hands and tosses it across the room, graves is mercifully staring blankly at the page instead of being in the middle of reading something. he just stares in wide - eyed horror as the book is thrown across the room and hits the ground, his expression falling into grim acceptance in time with the loud thud. right. “ so. ” there’s a pause in graves’ words as he tries to work his mind around just how ridiculous this situation he finds himself in is. “ what do you want to do, then?? ”

GRAVES IS FULLY prepared to find a way out of whatever it is floyd suggests, with whatever logic or excuse he has to bring to the table. rielle is in so much trouble...

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unblot​:

one would think that flat refusal would perturb him but think again. rielle is nothing but not persistent. graves of all people should know this to be true.  ❛   ‘course you are! i set it up for you! you’ve been working wayyy too hard around here lately. you deserve a day to yourself! well – yourself & your plus one. it’ll be fun i promise!    ❜

RIELLE IS PERSISTENT, and that’s something graves knows too well. “ rielle, you know i’m not — ” like that. someone who dates. interested in humoring a stranger. but the thought dies on his tongue as he knows he’s all but lost; the only way out of this and rielle’s persistence is a real argument, and stuffy, too - sure of himself graves doesn’t want to have one of those right now. he sighs in defeat, his grip shifting on the notebooks he holds as he lets a pair of oblivious first - years pass by. his voice is quieter when he speaks again. “ this once, rielle, and only this once. but you cannot do this again. you can’t just decide for me that what little time i do have to myself has to go to entertaining someone i’ve never met because it’s what you would want to do. that’s not how i want to spend my time and you should know that by now. ”