#a rose among the briars

[mercurygray]

Someone is 'benevolently factchecking' me in the comments of A Rose Among The Briars - the LOTR longfic that I wrote in college. Apparently I picked the wrong age for a throwaway comment about when kids start walking. Girl. If I made a mistake about developmental child milestones in a fic from ten years ago, I'm sorry. That's on college Merc, and I own that. But on God, I DO NOT CARE and I don't want to be told because I'm not going back to change it, especially if that's the ONLY thing you're going to say about what you just read.

[swan-of-fabletown]

As they waited, Briar Rose, Cinderella and Snow were talking and chatting about what they had been up to and news more. Eventually, they asked Keira how she was doing with the cases with Bigby. Keira: The other day, Bigby and I had to go to Mad's Bar & we eventually had to find Jack trying again to flirt with the ladies. Cinderella: Yeah, and he has just been dumped by Rose Red. Snow: It would be better if she were not going out with him. I can't seem to see why she takes him back. Briar: I am sure she won't give him another chance. The other day guess who I saw in Bullfinch Street, Edward Teach, he was in town, and I heard he was looking for Bluebeard. Terra/Receptionist: Table for 4. Table for Lady Rose, your table is ready Terra the Receptionist - @anideterm3

The waiter came and took the ladies to the table & the first thing Cinderella did was order wine. It was almost a while since Keira drank some wine & she does have champagne during Remembrance Ball. Plus, she would've usually had a soft drink or some water due to her work with Bigby, but Cinderella made sure she got Keira some alcohol for once and her out of her feathers. The waiter brought their wines. A glass of white wine for Cinderella, and there were even two red wines for Briar Rose and Snow White and even a glass of Pink Moscato for Keira. Cinderella: Cheers, and let's have this great evening. All ladies tinkled their glasses.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Archaic Words: Roses

for your next poem/story

Allison - wood rose

Cat hip - burnet rose

Catwhin - dog rose

Copper rose - red field poppy

Corn rose - wild poppy

Dew rose - distilled rose water

Eglantine - sweet briar; occasionally: the wild rose

Eurose - rose water

Everrose - rose water

Gatter bush - wild gelder rose, or dogwood

Gipsy rose - corn rose

Hepe - a hip, or fruit of the dog rose

Hip briar - wild rose

Horse bramble - wild rose

Lent rose - daffodil

Mount rose - a kind of wine

Red corn rose - wild poppy

Rose - a symbol of secrecy among the ancients, and from hence is said to be derived the adage "under the rose" when a secret is to be kept, and use with great propriety on privy seals, which came into use about the middle of the 12th century

Rose yard - a place where roses grow

Roser - rose bush

Rosiar - rose tree

Rosy - healthy

Snow ball - the Guelder rose

Sucre roseth - sugar of roses

Thorun - thorn; bush

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Word Lists ⚜ Roses

[chernabogs]

“kiss  me.  take  me  from  this  place.  ’” for the writing prompt with Lilia and reader 👀👀

I went a bit of a different approach with this where the prompt isn't written in, but is instead what this whole fic builds off of. I couldn't find an appropriate place to put the words based on the content, so I hope this is ok <3

HOOKED

Inc: Lilia, Baul mention, Reader (spoken second person here). Warnings: Heavy discussion of PTSD including a detailed PTSD-attack. Read at your discretion. WC: 2.5k Summary: Many of those who came from the era of Briar Nation before Briar Valley believe the silent suppression approach is both more mindful and correct in terms of etiquette. Lilia is not exempt from this, even when he knows it's a ridiculous belief.

There is a stigma against seeking help that Lilia would argue is the most ridiculous belief to have been ingrained in the older generation. Rather than communicating one’s thoughts and emotions to others, many of those who came from the era of Briar Nation before Briar Valley believe the silent suppression approach is both more mindful and correct in terms of etiquette.

Of course, he’s not exempt to this.

The difference between himself and the rest of his generation is that he’s the largest hypocrite to exist among them. He encourages his children and those nurtured by his hand to speak their thoughts and to be aware of how they feel in the moment. Meanwhile, he’s shoving every stressor he’s experienced into the nooks and crannies of his mind, where they sit and stare at him expectantly as he tries diligently not to look back.

Perhaps in time, he tells himself.

He wasn’t quite aware of the term ‘post-traumatic’ until he heard it spoken of on one of his trips abroad forty years back. By fate, be it cruel or kind, there was a conference occurring in the hotel he was staying at that he took upon himself to quickly visit. Uninvited and for free, of course, but that’s beside the point. At the time glamour still wasn’t as illegal as it is now, and so it didn’t take much concentration for him to conceal the pointed ears and sharp teeth he has to blend in with the crowd of well-dressed folks with degrees too long to remember. That day he played a clinical psychologist, a physician, a biologist, and someone in forensics all in the span of a few hours. It was an exercise in acting he quite enjoyed.

Back to the main focus, though: Post-traumatic, or PTSD, as it would come to be called.

It was new, it was fresh, and it made the pinpricks of discomfort crawl across his skin the more he listened to the psychologist whose name he didn’t recall describe it. Glasses—the man had large, coke-bottle glasses on his face, which kept glinting under the fluorescent glow of the lights while he spoke about the consequences of war on the mind. His hands would wave in the air with each sentence and his glasses kept glinting as the pinpricks grew to daggers until finally Lilia just got up and left the room. He went to the hotel bar, got smashed for the first time in god knows how long, and spent the rest of the night staring at the colourful glasses on the shelves until he was finally asked to leave.

Glasses had described it as presenting in several ways. Recurring dreams (he dreamt of it at least once a week, a dragon’s shriek, and then the sudden nothingness), avoidance of external reminders (he didn’t immediately go back to Wild Rose even when it became accessible), persistent negative beliefs about oneself (no comment), self-destructive behaviour (no comment), sleep disturbances (no comment). If he and Glasses had engaged in a one-on-one conversation for all of a minute he wagers the man would’ve tried to recruit him to be studied.

Glasses did miss the mark on a few things, though. Granted he was basing his work off of a human’s experience in war, not that of a fae like Lilia. Glasses had said that PTSD could make someone feel as though they were trapped in a prison that was their own mind—but prison felt like a very child-friendly way to describe it. To Lilia, it felt more like a fish on a hook. It pierces into his body and pulls at the flesh, ripping into his muscle and making sure it’s the only thing he can think of coherently. Sometimes he’s so numb that he hardly notices it’s there, until something triggers it, makes the string the hook is on yank upwards, and then he isn’t able to do anything because all he’s stuck on is that fucking hook.

Sometimes in the late evening when he finds himself sitting with Baul on the man’s porch there will be a sound—a twig snapping, a tree falling—that will make both of them tense and look around. Their eyes will meet, an unspoken look of understanding will be shared, and then it’s back into the next topic of conversation. Maybe if he told someone he was caught, if either of them told someone, they’d be able to wiggle that hook free. But that’s not mindful or correct in terms of etiquette, isn’t it?

Perhaps in time, he tells himself.

_________________________________________

It’s because the sky is blue.

It’s the simplest, most common thing in the entire world that never changes no matter what occurs. The sea changes colour, the leaves change colour, the earth changes colour, but the sky somehow consistently stays blue.

He’s been having a bad week, and he knows you can tell because he hasn’t been poking fun at you as often. He hasn’t felt like gaming, he hasn’t felt like socializing as much, and he’s been going for walks more than usual. His boys can tell as well—the close scrutiny Silver has had him under is almost endearing—but they also know better than to react too much.

You don’t. He likes you mainly because you know barely anything about him. You’re not as aware as his boys may be. You don’t know the Right General: the man who destroyed armies and fucked up on the biggest task he was given (in his mind, at least). You know Lilia: the vice Housewarden of Diasomnia who hangs upside down in hallways and plays screamo on a guitar.

He's also developed a bit of a soft spot for you.

Well. Perhaps more than a bit, but that’s semantics.

This is also why he doesn’t say no when you invite him to go into town with you for a few errands. It’s a simple task that he’s done with you many times before, but today it feels like a huge commitment he isn’t sure he should have done. This is because he can feel it tugging in his head—the gentle pull of a thread that’s done before whatever is on the hook is yanked up to the surface. He’s trying hard to ignore it, trying hard to focus on your voice as his hand taps his thigh and he keeps looking around the woodland path.

“—and so, Ace is paying for it, because he was the one that went and dumped the grape juice on it in the first place.” You look down at the red-stained garb in your arms as you frown. His gaze goes to it only for a moment before he hums and looks away again.

“How much of a fight was it to get him to agree to that?” He asks, pushing to keep the conversation going and to keep you talking so that he has something to focus his attention on. The trees around you feel both familiar and foreign in this moment. “If I recall correctly, our dear Ace is as good at negotiating as Azul when it comes to his own money.”

You give a laugh at that which allows a brief blanket of warmth to drape itself on his shoulders. “Combined with Deuce, we managed to get him to agree quickly enough. I don’t think dry cleaning costs that much though, so it isn’t like this is going to break his bank.”

“Ah, you would be surprised.” A smile touches on his lips which still doesn’t quite reach his eyes as you both continue walking. You direct the conversation to other matters going on around the school and he falls into an attentive silence, letting you talk away so he can focus on your voice.

It’s when you step out of the forest and into a meadow clearing, when his eyes inadvertently go upwards to look at the blue sky, that the world shuts off. The sky had been like this—clear and blue—right before it had all gone to shit. Sunny, slightly cooler, with the sounds of a thousand bodies moving and the heady scent of grease in the air. He can see the glinting of light (glinting like Glasses had been), he can feel the tension grow in his body, taste saliva and copper in his mouth. In a manner of a few seconds, he’s sucked up out of the forest around NRC and into a sub-level of his own personal hell where he’s now sitting and watching all of his mistakes play back.

He's fighting against that hook. He’s squirming, wiggling, and biting as it pulls him all around. The world is black. He’s sitting on a silver chair and there’s a television in front of him and it’s playing that day at Wild Rose as the sky becomes a thunderous grey. He wants to scream and change the channel, but the hook has pierced the back of his head and is jutting out of his mouth. He can’t speak, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but watch as the same shit happens again and again and—

“—Lilia?”

His head turns as much as the hook allows. He can taste the rust from it as it stays in his mouth, but his eyes go wide when he sees you in the corner. The hum of television static and his quick breathing are all the sounds he can hear as you stand there in those shadows. Something garbled leaves his lips. You move a few steps closer, close enough that the light of the television reflects on your features, which wear a mask of your own fear as you kneel by his side.

You shouldn’t be here. You weren’t there, not when it was all unfolding, so you shouldn’t be in the same basement of horrors he’s currently in.

Your hand rests on his arm. It’s as though a thousand needles erupt where your skin touches and he recoils in that chair, jerks to the side, and causes that hook to split more skin. You move back quickly, and he can see what he thinks might be panic on your face.

“What can I do?” You ask. It’s such a simple question and he wishes so deeply to tell you an answer but what can you do? What can he do? It isn’t mindful or correct in terms of etiquette, right? He shakes his head. Panic turns to a touch of worry, of frustration, as you move to sit cross-legged beside his chair.

“I... don’t know what’s going on.” You say slowly. He listens as he forces his breathing to regulate. The dim hum of static is still coming from the right side of him as he keeps looking down at you. “But I’m going to sit right here, okay? I’m going to sit right here until you can tell me what I can do to help. And if there’s nothing I can do, then at least I can keep you company until you’re ready.”

Ready? Company?

He keeps looking down at you until he finally turns his head back to the television where those scenes are still playing. Beyond the television, he can see the outline of trees forming in the dark room.

The two of you sit there for what feels like an extraordinarily long time. The hook has stopped tugging, and the trees are becoming more visible in the darkness as the show comes to an end. He can hear birds chirping past the static, he can smell woodland instead of grease. He isn’t tasting rust anymore. A small, strangled hum leaves him, which catches your attention.

“Yeah?” You ask, scooting forward on the floor beside him to look up at his face. You’re so goddamn endearing when you look up like that, and he hates that you’re in this room with him right now. He needs to leave because he needs to get you out of here as well. You barely know anything about him, and he isn’t ready to ruin the perceptions you have quite yet.

“Can I touch you?” You ask.

“Yes,” is what he manages to choke back beyond the hook.

You stand back up and your hand comes to rest on his cheek. He doesn’t feel daggers like he did before, but he does still tense, which makes you stop again. A heartbeat passes before you lean down so your lips are by his ear.

“Breathe,” you whisper, and he does.

“Focus,” you whisper, and he does.

“Come back,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his temple, and he does.

The television shuts off and is pulled back into the shadows by something he can’t quite see yet, but he feels he will come to meet very soon. The chair he sits on vanishes and is replaced by a rock with a bubbling creek at his feet. The hook unlatches itself and is reeled back up for another day. It’s like he’s waking up from a dream as a groggy feeling settles over him.  

Neither of you speak for a long moment as he continues to sit on the rock and your hand moves to rest on his back. A sense of embarrassment forms in his chest that he knows shouldn’t be there, but it exists anyway. Embarrassment, shame, and heavy, heavy exhaustion. His tongue licks his dry lips as he clears his throat to speak.

“How long?” He asks.

“It’s been an hour.”

An hour. That feels shorter than usual as he rolls his shoulders and gets to his feet. His hands are trembling slightly, and he appreciates you not mentioning it despite the way your gaze lingers on them.

He turns to you as he shoves them in his pockets, and he forces his lips into a smile. It’s a good thing he’s an expert at fake smiles to the point that he does this without a thought. “Do you mind if I...?”

“Not at all.” You reply quickly, grabbing your stained clothing from the ground. When you rise, you look worried. For a moment he fears that you may ask what just happened right now—but you don’t. You just offer him a slight smile back and hold your clothes a bit tighter. “Will you text me when you get back?”

“Yes,” he replies automatically, feeling a bud of relief blossom in his chest when you nod and step back onto the path. This is immediately replaced by guilt. “Thank you.”

The words feel dead and heavy on his tongue, despite the way they seem to soothe your own anxiety.

“Always.” You murmur in response as he watches your gaze linger on him a moment longer. He so wishes to ask you to stay, to explain to you what this all was, but he stills the words in his throat.

He likes you mainly because you know barely anything about him. You’re unaware of his past, much like his boys, and your perception of him is one he’s carefully gifted to you himself. The abruptness of this attack may have broken a crack in the pristine image which unsettles him.

He isn’t ready to discuss it yet. Not with you, not with his boys, not even Baul. He’s the largest hypocrite to exist for a good reason.

He continues to watch you until you vanish back into the forest, and it’s only with your departure that he finds himself able to breathe properly. The back of his skull aches and all he wants right now is to go to sleep for a few hours. His smile drops to a grimace as he turns and begins to go in the direction opposite of you.

Perhaps in time, he tells himself.

[coolbattlegirl]

Even the Bravest of Knights Must Rest

“I’m begging you, Malleus-sama! Please, please return back to your usual self!”

.

.

.

“Please forgive me, Malleus-sama.”

.

.

.

Malleus’s eyes fluttering open, casting an eerie glow in the dimly lit room. The echo of Silver’s pleading voice from the dream clung to the corner of his mind like a vice, unwelcomed and persistent. His eyes swept over the grand hall of the dormitory, eventually catching sight of that familiar glint of silver hair among the sea of slumbering students. 

Slowly, he rose from his throne, his movements slow and silent, aside from the faint click of his heel against the stone floor. The sound, barely audible, seemed to echo loudly against the stillness he had woven over the school. 

As Malleus approached, his gaze remained fixed on Silver, scanning the boy’s body for a flicker of movement, any sign that he had awakened. But Silver remained still, the only movement being that of his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Malleus’s green eyes lingered momentarily on Silver’s face, half-expecting to see the defiant glare and resolute frown from their encounter in the dream. But of course, there was no trace of it now.

He had not expected such defiance–least of all from Silver, whose loyalty had always been as steadfast as the sunrise. For him to stand against him, his prince, in that fragile space bordering reality and dream… That had been quite the surprise. 

And yet, as he now stood over Silver’s slumbering form, he realized that he couldn’t truly be surprised by the events that unfolded. Because that was how Silver was. Stubbornly loyal and righteous, even if it meant going against someone he cared for. 

“Yes… that is exactly how he is…” Malleus couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. To think he had been angry at Silver earlier in the dream.

Kneeling down beside Silver's still form, Malleus reached out a clawed hand, smoothing down a stray strand of silver hair, an old habit he used to do when Silver had been much younger. And for a fleeting moment, Malleus was taken back to Lilia’s small cottage that was tucked away in the forest of Briar Valley, the scent of the wildflowers, the small hand that clung to his hand, and aurora eyes that looked up at him with innocent trust. 

A faint smile crept up on his face at the memory. It had almost been like yesterday when Silver had been but a small toddler running around and climbing into his arms. As Malleus moved his hand away, his gaze shifted and he caught the faint glow coming from beneath the folds of Silver’s dorm blazer. Malleus’s eyes narrowed slightly, the corners of his mouth now dipping into a subtle frown as he regarded the glow. 

“Ah, yes… How could I forget,” he reached down and eased the fabric aside to reveal the source: a delicate gold necklace with a crowned-shaped pendant. Its light pulsed gently as he scrutinized it. It was faint, practically invisible, but he could sense its resistance against his magic. 

“Now where could he have come across such an intriguing artifact?” Malleus murmured as he lifted the pendant to take a closer look at it. He would have disregarded the necklace as nothing more than a regular piece of jewelry had it not been for the fact that it had played a hand in allowing the trio and the perfect’s familiar to slip away. 

After a small staring contest with the inanimate object, magic began to pool in Malleus’s palm as he directed his focus on the small charm. He supposed that it mattered very little where the necklace came from. Regardless of its origin, it was an annoying thorn in his side. And while he did feel a bit reluctant to destroy something belonging to Silver, it would be best to get rid of it. 

Only… it resisted. 

The dim glow that surrounded the crown pendant intensified almost instantly, pushing against his magic. Malleus blinked, faltering in his attempt before he furrowed his brow and tried again, pouring more of his magic into this attempt. But the pendant held firm, its glow unyielding to his magic.

“...How stubborn,” Malleus muttered under his breath, frustration underlining his voice. It seemed that this nuisance wouldn't be disappearing anytime soon. 

Finally relenting, Malleus dropped the necklace, letting it fall back onto Silver’s chest. His eyes narrowed as his gaze lingered on the object, silently debated his next course of action. If he couldn’t destroy the necklace, then perhaps he could weaken it–isolate it from the other students. With his decision made, Malleus slipped his arms beneath Silver and lifted him effortlessly. 

And as silent as a ghost, Malleus carried him towards the far end of the dormitory, passing numerous hallways until he found himself ascending the spiraling staircase that led to the dormitory’s secluded tower. The tower had been a homage to the Witch of Thorns, a replica of the fabled tower described in her legend, but it had fallen into disuse. The journey upwards was unhurried as he climbed the tower, the air around them beginning to thicken with magic–so much so that it almost felt suffocating. 

Reaching the top, Malleus pushed open the wooden door to the secluded chamber. He rarely frequented this area of the dormitory, but everything was the same as he remembered.

The room was sparsely furnished, with only a bed draped in dark velvety fabrics being its centerpiece. Stepping inside, Malleus passed by the thorn-like carvings adorned on the stone walls, their design curling elegantly towards the ceiling. The room was a bit dusty, but that wasn’t anything a cleaning spell couldn’t fix. 

Malleus crossed the room, careful to not disturb the sleeping boy as he gently lowered Silver onto the bed. The mattress dipped slightly at the sudden weight, causing Silver’s head to loll gently to the side and his hair to spill like moonlight on the dark fabric.

Not quite satisfied, Malleus adjusted the pillow underneath Silver’s head and made sure to straighten the fabric before he gently draped the blanket over Silver, tucking him in as he used to when the boy had been younger. How nostalgic it felt doing it once more. 

Now content with the arrangements, Malleus stood up and stared down at Silver before his attention was torn away by that familiar, and annoying, glow from the pendant. His hand twitched, almost tempted to make another attempt at destroying it, but he held himself back. There would be little to no point in trying again when the result would be the same. This solution was hardly a solution to the bigger dilemma he faced, but it would have to do. For now at least.

Malleus let out a fond sigh, his clawed hand finding its way back on Silver’s head to smooth the other’s hair.  

“I’ll let you play the knight in shining armor a little while longer, Silver,” Malleus murmured, a hint of affection threading through his voice, “And when you’re finally done playing…” Malleus’s voice was softer now, barely above a whisper as his eyes traced over Silver’s peaceful face.

“When you realize that even the bravest of knights must rest eventually… I’ll be here. Waiting.” 

Straightening himself, Malleus cast one last look at Silver before turning to leave. The door closed behind him with a low echoing thud, and almost immediately, thorned vines began to creep along its surface.

As he descended the staircase, he paused mid-step, tilting his head as he felt the slightest ripple in the air. It seemed that someone had entered uninvited. 

How rude. 

[kiame-sama]

First of all I'm loving your world building, it's all so easy to understand yet intertwined with each other it's amazing! Só far my favorite part is how the Unicorns treated humans, I wonder how this love of unicorns for humans and humans for unicorns began.

The queen of hearts still being my favorite I every AU I past by but in this one specifically there is no way of comparing, especially by the rules, which by the way are very funny, about pregnant women and how they have a pass to commit crimes lol

Riddle trying so hard to keep the human safe is so damn cute and dangerous and I LOVE IT!!!

The impact of the human kind in the culture and all is very pleasing to read. Please tell me, the humans of that world had any kingdom or they only lived in villages (probably protected by the unicorns or the fae)?

.

Thank you for this AU, my obsession for TW never got this high before (⁠⊃⁠｡⁠•́⁠‿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)⁠⊃

Humans lived primarily in villages or hamlets as the more people there were, the more attention they would receive from the monsters living nearby or from the wild beasts that occupy the 'untamed' parts of the land. Most of the time, this attention was negative as the beasts of Twisted Wonderland are truly monstrous and can easily kill a village of these soft Humans with little effort, as even many of the animals are magical/ have magic. Sometimes this attention is positive, as it was in the early Queendom of Roses and in Briar Valley, because it allowed Unicorns and the Fae folk to discover these little gatherings of humans and protect them from those that would do these soft creatures harm.

Before humans were mostly adopted by these stronger species, they had to live light and be ready to travel should their presence become noticed by any threats. It wasn't easy for them to pack up and leave everything they couldn't carry, but such was the lives Humans lived in Twisted Wonderland. To be noticed by any magic user was to have a target put on you and your family.

Before Humans became more prevalent in the cultures of the large Kingdoms/Queendoms of Twisted Wonderland, they were counted among the few that couldn't use magic and were mostly driven away or hunted/killed if they got too close to a village/city of magic folk. Many species used to hunt humans or would even feast on them occasionally.

There are only a handful of species that never hunted Humans. Unicorns and Dragons. Unicorns were more peaceful and even sought out Humans as Humans were emotionally easier for Unicorns to be around and there was a certain allure Humans had that interested the Unicorns. As far as Dragons go, Dragons have slaughtered Humans in the past for being too bold as to steal from the Dragon or even trying to take other Humans back from the Dragons. The Dragons were not known to eat the Humans- as many Dragons actually kidnapped Humans to keep in their hoards- but their history is not as clean as that of the Unicorns.

[linkemon]

Confession headcanons

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here.

Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Other headcanons from this series can be found here.

Part 2 | Part 3 of the confession headcanons.

This part contains: Malleus Draconia, Idia Shroud and Kalim Al-Asim.

Malleus Draconia

• Malleus' confession of feelings involved a number of obstacles and misunderstandings, although happily resolved.

• He wrote about you many times in letters to his grandmother. And although it made him realize the fragility of relationships with humans, grandma was also very happy knowing that her grandson had experienced such deep love. She really wanted to meet you, even though you didn't know it at the time.

• Draconia's biggest fear and block from telling you how he felt was the fear of loss. In various aspects of it. He was aware that he would certainly outlive you, and from time to time the thought of you returning to the world you came from floated in the back of his mind. In addition, you were his first real friend, not counting the people who were with him every day. Rejection could cost him the entire relationship.

One most ordinary night, he simply realized that the risk was worth trying to tell you how he felt.

• Malleus sprang into action with eager vigour. Unfortunately, these efforts were somewhat misdirected. It took Lilia to clearly explain to him that the customs adopted among fae do not necessarily translate to humans. He was forced to do this, as it were, because after you threw away his family generational necklace, the clouds over Diasomnia were darkening day by day and a disastrous downpour with lightning was brewing.

Meanwhile, you were simply afraid that Grim would destroy such a valuable and expensive gift. You had absolutely no idea of the additional meaning it carried.

• The second attempt was definitely more successful. Malleus gave you the rose seeds he grew in Briar Valley. Planted in Ramshackle, with his magic they turned into a field of red flowers. Combined with the moonlight and the fireflies dancing around you, it created a wonderful atmosphere that you will remember for a long time.

It was then that the fae confessed to you that he had been smitten with you from the very beginning but it was your friendship, so precious to him, that turned into something more. The fact that he knelt down in front of you and promised to give you everything you wanted made you think for a moment that he was going to propose to you. Initially, that's what he planned, but Lilia talked him out of it...

Idia Shroud

• It's not that Idia didn't know what love was. He had played so many otome games that while he wasn't an expert, he certainly wasn't a noob. However, without Ortho's help, he would not have correctly recognized its signs in real life.

• He started by avoiding you. The rapid heartbeat and red tips of his hair were becoming more and more frequent and it was difficult for him to control them. So he found the best solution he could come up with, which was to lock himself in his room. He avoided you as much as he could all over campus.

• His brother, although he quickly understood through data analysis what was happening to him, did not think it was good to raise the topic too early. Initially, he wanted to give Idia time. Time was clearly running out because the robot, seeing you once again look sadly at the tablet and gave it a wide berth, decided to act. He prepared a series of tests to convince your older brother that you reciprocate his feelings. Of course, Shroud hid under the blanket, mumbled to be left alone. Although he pretended to be uninterested, the speech actually sparked hope in him.

Maybe this time he wasn't a total knight nerd and side hero? Maybe he could play the lead role for once?

• He did what he does best. He designed a program that allowed him to send a request if you wanted to be his girlfriend. At worst, he was going to pretend it was a mistake.

When he saw that instead of checking the tick box, you had come to Ignihyde, he immediately paled. You had to knock on the door, telling him that you wouldn't leave until he explained to you what was actually going on and how this confession related to his constant avoidance of you.

Idia just stuck his head out of the crack, stammered and said that he was like the worst NPC you've ever seen but if you let him have some time, maybe he'll become a main character worthy of you.

Kalim Al-Asim

• Friendzone should be his middle name. From the beginning of your relationship, he sent you signals that you considered romantic. Until you started spending more time with him around others and you found out that Kalim treated them the same way he treated you. That's when everything started to get confusing for you.

• When you tried to tell him that you liked him very much, he replied that he liked you too. When you said more, he said more, more. And when you said he was more than a friend, he said you were his best friend. He did all this with such a wide smile on his face that you didn't have the heart to explain to him the true meaning of your statements. You knew the sincerity of his words. Few people in the NRC matched him in truthfulness. But it was incredibly frustrating for you.

• Grim knew exactly what was happening, seeing your hearty eyes every time you left the desert dormitory. He calculated in his head how many cans of tuna he would get if you got together with the prefect of Scarabia. This prompted him to not-so-subtly blurt out to Kalim that you were romantically interested in him. In return, he received a promise of a container of fish delicacies.

• The boy was in great shock but in a positive way. He didn't know what to do with all his joy, so he grabbed the first flowers in a vase he had at hand and ran towards the flying carpet. You weren't expecting him at all in the evening, dressed in your pajamas and ready to go to bed. He hugged you so tightly that he almost knocked you over and that was before he even remembered that he hadn't told you why he actually came...

[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Prologue

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Prologue: Dying in the Roses

Summary: (Y/N) meets their death.

Mouse Note: Welcome to Nature of the Human Soul! I'm so happy to get to share with you all! I put a lot of work into this new series, and I'm very happy about it. Just a quick reminder, it is a found family/platonic series, so no romance amongst any Hazbin characters and the MC. That would be weird since the MC is seventeen. But other than that, I'm ready to have some fun, and I hope you are, too! As always, please comment your thoughts below. I love interacting with readers, and it is such a motivation to write. So, please, sit back, enjoy!

            (Y/N) limped out of the house they’d been raised in. Their own blood stained their stomach and hands as they tried to hold their wound closed, mixing with the blood that was not their own.

            (Y/N) didn’t care. The ordeal was finished. They were finished. There was nothing left for them, and they’d done everything they’d wanted to—needed to.

            (Y/N) stood at the edge of the patio and stared out over the garden they’d grown up in. Apple trees lined the edges of the yard. Flower bushes grew around the patio. It was all so perfect.

            They despised it.

            (Y/N) took a step forward and held onto the railing as they stepped down off the patio. They could do it. They could make it out of the garden.

            Just once. Just once.

            (Y/N)’s strength failed, and they stumbled.

            Come on, just once.

            Another step, and (Y/N) collapsed. They fell back into the rosebushes decorating the yard. They couldn’t even muster the strength to cry out at the pain of thorns pricking every inch of their skin.

            (Y/N) lay among the briars and petals, staring up at the bright sun above them as their vision turned black.

            They were dying.

            And they had never made it to freedom.

            What a fucking joke.

Taglist:

@kyalov

@pandaquick

@boredwithlifeatthispoint

@jaytheaceenby

@paastaboi

@bettybabys

@gxdoesstuff

[bitethedustfools]

TWST Story Idea (17)

Yuu's Misadventure in Twisted Wonderland

-

A lonely coffin lay in the middle of nowhere. It was glazed in a black hue, and elegant golden patterns decorated the lid. Along the designs, a keyhole rested in the middle, while a mirror was positioned where the face would be.

Despite being called a mirror, it strangely emitted a dull white light, flickering like a dying firefly amidst the darkness. Then, without warning, the lid rattled loudly.

Thud, thud, thud!

Someone was trying to open the lid of the coffin to no avail. The lid was too tightly shut, barely a crack could be seen, even though the person inside had been kicking and slamming it with all their strength.

That person screamed for help, crying and begging to be saved and let out of this endless darkness. There was even panting inside as anxiety set in, knowing that the oxygen was limited.

And then—

Bam!

The lid finally slammed open, and a figure sat up with a gasp, taking in big breaths like someone who had nearly drowned.

Their hair was in disarray, their face messy from crying and sweating. Blood smeared their swollen hands, used to try to slam the door open.

Yuu was finally free.

However, they did not know where they were. There were only trees as far as the eye could see, and what seemed to be a track made by a carriage near the coffin.

Why were they in a coffin? Why was there even a carriage in this place and time? Did they fall off? But then why didn’t anyone come to retrieve them? Wait, isn't this human trafficking?

Though baffled and confused by the state they were in, Yuu ultimately decided to seek help and began following the path.

If only they had picked the right way, they would have ended up at NRC, and their new life—though chaotic—would have been better than the other path. But they were slowly heading somewhere else.

Everything went wrong from there.

Yuu learned that this was not the place they were familiar with. The buildings were colorful, each following a certain theme. The people were handsome and pretty, and their hair had various shades as though dyed, but it wasn’t. Somehow, Yuu could sense that it looked natural.

Ironically, Yuu, who looked the plainest, stood out the most among them. The people were alarmed to see a foreign child with dried blood on their hands and a shabby appearance, like a fugitive.

Yuu ran the moment they felt a sense of dread bubbling in their belly. Any attempts at communication failed, not because the people didn’t want to listen or understand, but because they couldn’t understand each other’s language.

This was where Yuu learned about magic. In the midst of running away, they were taken off guard by magic that obstructed their movement and, therefore, were taken to the court of the Queen of Hearts.

(Insert drama here. Will it go like Alice in Wonderland or take a different plot? How will Yuu be treated? No thoughts about Yuu being from a different world since they don’t understand each other’s language.)

Yuu somehow escaped. Finally nourished by the food provided by the jailers, they wandered without direction, only stopping to sleep in the wild with no shelter. The fear of waking up in the Queendom of Roses terrified Yuu.

And then, they entered a new place…

-----

Yuu’s situation involved going to new areas like the Shaftlands, the Scalding Sands, and other regions, encountering all sorts of dangers and predicaments. Some people were kind to Yuu, while others were not.

(Extra points if higher-ranking people, like Leona’s family or Malleus’s grandmother, take a liking to Yuu. Bonus points if Yuu becomes a therapist or friend to the family members of NRC students.)

Yuu took on different roles each time, often the most difficult ones, like a prisoner, a lab rat, a servant, and more.

Yuu’s luck was atrocious, leading them to some of the hardest places to get into on Twst, like the Briar Valley, the Coral Sea, and the Isle of Woe.

There was even a time when Yuu nearly got taken by the Playful Land and almost converted into one of their puppets. But their luck was also unusually good, as they managed to escape each situation—though not without suffering.

Due to their time in the wild and the language barrier, Yuu became a bit feral.

Their final destination would be NRC, where Yuu showed pure animosity toward Dire Crowley. They also met Grim in the wilderness before attending NRC. Because of Yuu's personality, Grim reluctantly became their pet therapy companion and was allowed to attend alongside them.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

The First Fairy Tale

ahdbalidbaidf I'M SUCH A SUCKER FOR UNREQUITED KNIGHT X PRINCESS STUFF (even if it's not clear whether or not Lilia's crush persisted beyond childhood in canon) SO. I'M WRITING THIS… 😭This fic is purposefully ambiguous about the type of love Lilia feels in the end for Meleanor. It’s up to the reader to interpret it as they please. This piece was inspired the story of Madame Red from Black Butler. You don't need to know either to enjoy, but if you do happen to know them then I think you'll appreciate it more. There’s also some references to a few Disney films besides Sleeping Beauty—can you find which ones? I also purposefully repeated some phrases and blended a few references together to give the fic a “dream-like”/deja vu feeling. There was going to be a wedding scene opening with “There wasn’t a cloud in the sky” in reference to We Don’t Talk About Bruno, but I had to cut that since the fic was getting long. Even without that and some other cut scenes, I think this is the longest fic I’ve written before. It’s almost 8k words!!

... Do you remember? I told my first fairy tale to you, my most beloved. ***Spoilers for book 7 part 5 of the main story!***

Imagine this...

In a castle forgotten by time, a lone figure walked among the creeping thorns. The plants swallowed the grounds, yet he moved swiftly and stealthily, passing over briar as easily as water over stone. Not a single movement was wasted as he traversed the brambled floors.

His ponytail—black streaked with red—fell in his path, the slight whip of it the only trace of his presence. He had traded his battle armor of old for plainclothes long ago, but still hadn’t filled into them yet. To shed the life of a general for that of a civilian was no simple task.

The small, doughy creature pressed against his shoulder sleepily lifted its head. Upon the infant’s crown was a cap of shockingly silver hair, the same color as moonlight. The boy thrusted a pudgy hand into his cheek, delivering a soft pap to the hardened veteran.

“Tch…!” Lilia pulled away brusquely. “Troublesome little creature, aren’t you? Hold still. We’d have made it out of here by now if only you weren’t so…”

Weak, defenseless, frail, vulnerable.

An array of potential words rose to fill in the gap. He settled on the least abrasive one he could muster.

Something cute.

Children like cute, right…? Right.

“… squishy.”

The infant—no, Silver, he corrected himself—seemed curious about the response, staring up with sudden interest. Lilia’s skin prickled at the sensation. He averted his eyes to an interior that had seen better days.

Once a shining jewel to house the crown princess, Wild Rose Castle was abandoned now. The thorns had invaded, climbing the walls and digging themselves into every nook and crevice. Furniture and weapons devoured, flags and tapestries consumed, meeting a similar fate as the nation that had once proudly flew them.

Ruins entombing stolen time.

What had once been a palace teeming with history, with life, was left a barren wasteland. All that remained were shadows of the past which clung thickly to the thorns. One misstep, and they would cut into him, bringing both pain and searing hot memories.

Funny, that: how the natural forces were unrelenting and indiscriminate. Yet the trace of an enchantment in the air suggested otherwise, its telltale tingle palpable. He knew the bramble had come from magical means.

A fairy's spell lingered. Some bygone blessing or curse, told in the tattered remains of a hazy vision and a wish for more halcyon days. Parents wanting to spare their child from the horrors of war.

Lilia's grip on Silver subconsciously tightened.

What rotten luck. I return after all this time to pay my respects, only to find Wild Rose Castle in this sorry state. How the mighty fall.

Silver fidgeted in his arms, as if sensing that something was off. A bit of saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth, a soft whine gurgling up.

“You’re fussing again already?” Lilia frowned. He awkwardly laid a hand on the infant’s back. Are all infants this incorrigible? "The journey will be a long one if you aren't able to settle."

The infant turned its head, his cheek fitting neatly into Lilia's palm. There was a coo, then a sigh of contentment.

Still shaking off the sleepiness.

"... You're so needy," Lilia grumbled, noting the drool wetting his skin. Silver blinked at him with large, iridescent orbs. "I don't understand. Do people actually find this endearing? To find such joy in raising their young is..."

He hesitated to finish his sentence.

What did a man like him have to say on the matter? Long-lived as he was, that kind of love was something he had ever experienced for himself.

A gentle, warm hand to guide him through the darkness. The love of a parent.

Yet here I am, a loveless fae robbing a baby from its cradle. Just as the humans believe we do.

What irony.

Sadness nipped at Lilia as his thoughts turned to Silver. If anything, the little one had more power to shape the world around it than he ever could.

It was for this sort of creature that the Dawn Knight made a prayer for the future. It was for this sort of creature that Baul's rigid heart shifted. It was for this sort of creature that she...!!

Lilia's fingers had clenched into a vice grip on Silver. The infant cried out, squirming uncomfortably in his new guardian's grasp.

"Shoot...!! Er... there, there. It will be alright."

He clumsily rocked the baby back and forth. It was too vigorous, for Silver bursted into tears. His wails echoed off the desolate walls of the castle, piercing loud in Lilia's ears.

The fae jerked back, holding Silver at a safe distance from him. His grasp, precarious.

This is proving to be much more challenging than I initially thought... H-How do I silence it?!

Lilia glanced around helplessly at his surroundings. Everything was encased in a cage of thorns: antiques, drapes, even the axes mounted for decoration—to liven up the room. They were impossible for him to reach, else he could swing them around to amuse the boy.

Pieces of the past far out of his reach.

It’s not an option. A human babe is not like a fae babe. Lilia’s head swarmed with stress, Silver’s sobs only multiplying his worries. What do I do? What… would she do?

Meleanor…

The name of his princess emerged. Along with it, a scene blossoming in sepia shades.

Her, in a regal black gown and dripping in green gemstones and finery. Him, in a general's armor. A princess and her knight, straight out of a fairy tale.

She was humming while caressing a large egg, a marbled violet flecked with green, dark webbing laced the shell. It conformed perfectly to her chest, pulsating with a strange warmth as she ran taloned fingers over it. Another role she had adopted: mother.

A low chuckle rose from the back of her throat. "Fufufu Look, Malleus. Our dear Lilia has taken the time out of his busy schedule to come pay us a visit."

"It's been quite some time since I last heard you giggle like a schoolgirl. Nice to know that you remain in good spirits." He arched an eyebrow. "... But since when did you decide to name the child? I thought the medical mages hadn't even determined a gender for your heir yet."

"Oh, some time ago," she replied flippantly. Meleanor was always like a storm, unpredictable and acting on her own whims. "I don't need anyone to tell me what my child will be. I already know... my Malleus will grow up to be an upstanding, beautiful man just like my Raverne."

She had a dreamy, faraway look on her face. A slight blush to her high cheeks, a shine to her eyes, a kind smile at her lips. Completely unlike her, the tomboy who snuck out of the castle unsupervised and caused trouble for all the servants.

So utterly smitten.

For that moment and that moment alone, Lilia would have believed her a patient princess awaiting a knight in shining armor's rescue. Not him, but her beloved.

Raverne.

He had to bite back a terse laugh, mask it with a joke. "Your Raverne? Hold on now, you've got to share him with the rest of us. We'd simply crumble without his wisdom."

"I don't intend to share what's rightfully mine.” A teasing smirk he knew well had found its way onto her pert mouth again. “I'm a very possessive woman.”

"As I’m well aware. Alas, I serve such a cruel mistress of evil.”

She chuckled, resting a hand on her egg. "... When Raverne returns, we shall arrange for tea. The two of you can regale me with the stories of your journeys. It gets to be so dull trapped in these castle walls. Oh, and of course, Malleus will be joining us. He has yet to experience our cozy little get-togethers.”

Their group. Their trio. The three of them. And now a new member. An expansion of the family unit—no, rather, the realization that something didn’t belong among them.

His heartbeat quickened.

"There you go again, making rash requests of me. You really ought to be more considerate of others. I came all this way out of the goodness of my heart, only for you to bark more orders at me. Don't I get to take a break?"

"I am being considerate," she insisted. "I'm considering Malleus. He is invited. You cannot uninvite him."

"That's not the point. Agh, what am I going to do with you?" Lilia ran a hand through his hair. The frustration was familiar—but so was the fondness that chased it.

“My, my. Such insolence. I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me for a long, looong time. You should be less stubborn and more kind to your princess,” she purred, her words touched with dry sarcasm. “Isn’t that right, Malleus?”

“I’m too kind to you. Too patient as well,” Lilia sighed. “… It’s you who is headstrong.”

“I must be. I have a country and now a family behind me. A scorned mother’s rage is insurmountable, you know.”

He should have said something back. Played into their usual banter. But he didn’t—couldn’t bring himself to. Lilia looked away quickly, but not quite quickly enough.

“Oh? What nerve you have to avoid the gaze of your princess.” She dropped her playful tone. “Something weighs heavy on your mind.”

“… I can never hide anything from you, can I?”

“You will inform me at once.”

“So you can obliterate what ails me?”

“So that I may put you at ease." She lifted a hand, gesturing toward him. "That is the duty of a queen to her people… and, more importantly, of a friend to another."

Friend.

It stung right down to his bones, hurting more than a blast of righteous lightning. A reminder of what he was: a footnote, a supporting cast member in her grand story. Without that, he was nothing.

An outcast.

His stomach clenched. He forced down a bitter pill and spoke.

"I was just wondering what it must feel like to be in your position, Meleanor-sama," Lilia whispered. "Mother to a nation, and to a child. To wholly devote oneself to the service of others... I will never know what that is like."

At this, she laughed darkly. "I am strong. I have to be, because I have people to protect. You have that strength as well. You wouldn't be able to serve as one of my generals without it. There are just some things in this world worth risking your life for, hmm?"

"I don't understand. My loyalty will always lie with you, with Briar Country... but for a child, I cannot...!!" Lilia stopped himself, reining his emotions back to calm. "I've never known how that kind of love feels. I'm not capable of it."

Meleanor narrowed her eyes as she listened to his woes. Unwise men would think her contemplative. He knew better—she was scheming.

"... Let me tell you a secret, Lilia," she said at last. "A dragon's egg needs its parents' love to hatch. However, true love is a special spell. It's more powerful than any magic, and able to be cast by anyone. If you are able to protect me, then that alone is proof enough that you are capable of 'true love'."

"You make it sound so simple, but is it really like that? The children of man say that fae cannot tell an untruth, yet you so expertly reassure me with lies."

"You're questioning me? Laughable. I am a woman of my honor, unlike you with all your tall tales."

"They're not tall tales. They're real stories of the danger I was in. Danger that, mind you, I got in half the time on behalf of your demands."

"Is that so?" Meleanor had smiled at him then, her teeth gleaming in the dim candlelight. Long lashes fluttering against the emeralds of her eyes. "Then you wouldn't mind sharing a story or two with Malleus."

Lilia bristled at the thought, an old wound reopened. There was a burst of relief that accompanied the dull pain.

I can't sing her lullabies. I don't have her strength either. No partner to speak of, no family to look to. What I do have is...

He pressed Silver into him, keeping a hand rested reassuringly on the infant's upper back. Muffled cries and a warm wetness pooled on Lilia's shoulder. His steps slowed, coming to a steady pace.

The first words were the most difficult to get out.

"... Once upon a time, there was a princess living in this castle." His voice was slow and deep and sorrowful. Not a song, but a longing croon for days he could never return to.

They entered a corridor lined with paintings. The sound of Silver's sobbing funneled into the passage, a greeting to the dour faces of important officials portrayed in each frame. Horned, with raven hair and reptilian eyes, obsidian scales dotting their skin, milky and smooth as wax.

Lilia lowered his head to one as they passed--a woman upon a throne, scepter in hand, her pointed features dappled by moonlight.

"She was many things. Selfish, impetuous, and stubborn… but also brave, strong, and beautiful."

So beautiful.

That had been his first impression of her. A single pale rose amid a garden of thorns.

She was tiny in those days, still trotting about in small, polished heels that clicked with each step, her black dress swishing about. A scaled tail—fluffy at the end--poked out from under there, proof of dragonic heritage. Her long hair was slicked back, proudly displaying a pair of horns and the scales that crowned her forehead.

When she wailed, the skies turned stormy. When she beamed, the sun came out. Her expressions so lively as she spun around in her skirts, the fabric unfurling like the petals of a blossoming flower.

A princess both adored and feared by her people.

"She befriended an unruly ragamuffin.” Lilia's lips quirked, unable to fight them from tugging up. “He was without loved ones, so the princess extended a hand to him."

Lilia had stolen glances at her when he was convinced she was distracted. During royal processions, tending to the horses, when they crossed paths in the halls.

He never let himself stare for too long. To do so was nearly a death sentence. The guards would be upon him in an instant—or worse, she would.

But without doubt, she did.

She would look back, letting a telltale grin take shape when their gazes met.

Him, the nobody picked up by the royal family on a whim. A hopeless squire boy, a knight-in-training, a ward.

Him.

She noticed him.

Picking up her skirts, she'd made a beeline over. Grinning like a gremlin, she would inevitably set a tragedy into motion.

"Lilia, I'm sick of studying! Let's play instead."

"What? I don't want to. Besides, I have training to tend to."

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport. That's an order from your princess, so you can't refuse!"

“And that's the way the story always goes, a princess and her knight." He passed a glance at Silver. The infant's crying had quieted, and he returned the look, eyes wet with wonder.

Lilia sighed. "... I guess you wouldn't know that, would you? Well, it’s not as though she were your average girl.

"A wicked princess, that’s what she was. There was not a day when she wasn't making mischief and pulling the knight into it with her."

She had had many games, not all of them clearly defined or with rules. Sometimes she changed them on the fly. Sometimes she played without guidelines at all.

Pretend escalated into full-scale magical duels. Scavenger hunts spanned the entire castle grounds. They’d race to see who could relieve the gallery of the most apples in the least amount of time, dig through the treasury for the biggest gems.

On particularly lazy days, a roll across the lawn was enough to amuse them. Petals were plucked, sugary honeysuckle trapped between their teeth.

"You have something stuck in your hair," she'd tease him, picking loose petals out. "Let me get that for you, my most loyal retainer."

He'd hold still, as commanded, let her take as long as she wanted tidying him up.

When the guards combed the garden for them, they’d squish into shrubbery and lay low until the coast was clear. Sometimes their lids would grow heavy and collapse—and when they roused, stars had spilled into the sky, and they’d count constellations until the morning.

Starlight dappling her noble face, her fiery spirit ablaze.

How many diplomatic meetings had they crashed? How many ancient items had they broken? How many headaches had they collectively caused?

Lilia chuckled faintly.

… Those were the good old days.

He continued down the path laid before him, the paintings seemingly chugging along in slow succession. Both people and time passing him by.

"There was another as well. A clever, kind-hearted duke who also warmed up to the knight. The three of them formed a most formidable group.”

“Are you two at it again? You never stop, do you?”

The voice came from the top of the stairwell.

"Raverne. So good of you to join us," Meleanor said breathlessly—she had been running about. She slicked back a strand of glossy raven hair and beamed toothily. It wasn't the smile of a princess, but of a dragon yet to be tamed.

He quirked a brow. "Am I joining you? Whoever said that?"

“If you’re jealous, no need to play coy," she teased as the Dragon Duke descended the stairs. "You’re welcome to join us anytime.”

"The princess has already roped me into her antics," Lilia sighed. "Why not make it a party of three? We can all get scolded together later. Misery loves company."

"A tempting offer." Raverne lazily tilted his head to one side. He always had a languid way of moving, like a curtain of night veiling the day. "I think you've got me convinced."

"Why did you agree when Lilia asked and not when your princess did?" Meleanor demanded, stomping a foot.

Raverne shrugged. Effortless, defiant. "Perhaps you're not as charming as you think you are."

Any other person would have faced her wrath. Anyone else would have been forced to tango with lightning.

Not Raverne. He was too hard to stay mad at, and too easy to forgive. His presence alone smoothed over tensions, settled storms.

“He’s a dreamer,” the dusty old court advisors would remark with disdain.

“He’s a dreamer,” Lilia would say, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“He’s a dreamer,” Meleanor would sigh, the stars in her eyes.

Now, she just smirked at him. "I'll have to demonstrate to you just how charming I can be."

She had looked at Raverne differently in that instant. Her eyes did not glint at the sight of new prey to toy with, but with keen interest. There was something else too, an undercurrent of some tender feeling Lilia couldn't quite place.

Meleanor had never looked at Lilia like that.

Only Raverne.

He shook his head.

I should have known then... I was fighting a losing battle.

"With time, they grew ever closer. Unexpected feelings arose. The knight came to love the princess.” Lilia's feet came down upon the bramble that knitted over the floor. He could not feel it through his boots, but it felt as though he was still being pierced in the chest.

Silver blinked as Lilia plodded along. The gentle rise and fall drying his tears.

It had been a heady spring day, another escapade dodging servants and sneaking beyond the gardens. The flowers had blossomed, the same as the princess. She had grown lovelier by the day, her spitfire attitude untempered.

His flower of evil.

They were crossing a brook then, Meleanor lifting up her skirts to float to the other side, Lilia hopping on rocks to cross. He could have flown with her if he tried, but he was feeling cocky, had wanted to shown off the fruits of his training.

One misstep, and Lilia went flying forward, crashing into her. Their bodies collapsed against one another's as they roll, roll, rolled into a field, blades of grass and stray petals collecting on them. When they at last came to a stop, they laid on their lacks and laughed until their lungs hurt.

Lilia had stared at her again. Her smile, a powerful spell. She caught him in the act, demanded what he was looking at.

"You have something stuck in your hair," Lilia told her as they sat up. "Let me get that for you, my most benevolent princess."

"Stop stealing my lines," she giggled back.

Only if you stop stealing my heart first, he thought. But Meleanor was selfish, and once she had claimed something as her own, she refused to return her new treasure.

Lilia reached--and produced a single white daisy between his fingers. Kneeling, he offered the token to her. "Here. For you."

"Prankster. You planted that so you could appear impressive," Meleanor chuckled, accepting it. "... However, the gesture is sweet, so I thank you for it."

She held the flower to her nose and inhaled its scent. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, lips brushing the velvet-soft petals of the daisy. Wind weaving its hands through jet back hair, spots of sunshine dancing across her.

The entire universe was conspiring against him, it seemed.

He remained kneeling, remembering his place. Him, the knight. Her, the princess. But if that was the case, then weren't they perfectly suited for a fairy tale?

Lilia steeled his courage and let the words he had been holding in all that time loose. "M-Meleanor-sama! I... I like you. Not just as a friend. More than that. P-Please accept my feelings!"

Rare surprise dashed her beauty. A crack of light, dawn chasing away the darkness. ���Lilia...?"

Here was his weakness, more terrifying than any enemy their country had faced. One young lady, and he folded like a paper crane. His heart in her hands.

And she squeezed.

"I'm not sure if I enjoy this joke. What we had before... I liked that."

More delicate than he had ever heard her speak. Like she was afraid of breaking this.

"This isn't a joke. I'm... I'm serious about you! Please answer me!!" he pleaded. "Will you be mine?"

At once, her face fell. The daisy, and his heart, slipped from her grasp.

"Oh, Lilia," she whispered, a hand clamped over her mouth. "I'm sorry. So, so, sorry."

A resounding rejection, chased by a dreadful loneliness. It had been nothing like the storybooks had promised. Lilia almost wanted to weep at his juvenile naivete.

He hushed, the awareness of it all consuming him.

So this is love.

Love, and the lack of it. How it hurt him so, as it had from had the start. He was always alone, no matter how many people he surrounded himself with.

Was that really love then?

The thought struck him like a fist to the gut.

I thought I loved you. But maybe that wasn’t true love. Maybe I was desperate to be loved back. To have someone to call my own, when I had no one at all before. Maybe I clung to the first person that showed the slightest bit of attention to me.

Even so, my heart ached for you. Longed for you. Believed it was meant to be. Dreamt of you. I wanted to give you my everything.

Lilia tucked the infant’s cheek to his chest. Felt the child’s warmth, his physical presence. The steady drum of something buried deep in him.

There was a wobbly yawn in the silence. Silver, tuckered out from crying, awaited the next part of the story.

The breath Lilia held released. The words, painful as they dropped from his lips.

“But she had eyes for another: the duke. The knight watched as his two best friends fell in love.” Lilia’s nails dug into the cloth that swaddled Silver. “The princess and the duke were happy, so the knight, too, was happy. And why wouldn’t he be? The woman he loved the most was going to marry the man he loved the most. It was a happy ending for the trio."

He had been summoned by the princess that fateful day. Returning triumphant from the battlefield, adrenaline running high, he hadn’t even bothered to make himself presentable first. His hair was a mess, his armor stained with the remains of slain foes.

She waited for him beyond the door.

“Melea… Oh.”

His princess was seated beside Raverne. She clung to his arm like a vine on a trellis, beaming like the moon on a cloudless night. Meleanor was drunk on the Dragon Duke.

He had never seen her so happy.

“Lilia! You’re here at last,” she called, waving him over. “Just in time.”

He glanced from her to Raverne. “In time for what?”

“For our exciting announcement.” Meleanor wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she gazed adoringly at the man beside her. Somewhat shy. “Would you like to tell him? Or should I? Ooh, this is quite exciting."

Raverne smiled softly—but Lilia could sense the slight discomfort in his eyes, the way they darted to his. Guilty acknowledgement, an awareness of betrayal.

I'm sorry, he seemed to say.

Lilia’s blood ran cold.

“I think you ought to tell him,” Raverne suggested. His voice was gentle, but they felt like a slash to the throat, cutting deep.

Then Meleanor announced it, unable to contain the secret any longer. "We're getting married!!"

She showed her left hand. The flash of the silver band upon her fourth finger was unmistakable. A ring, binding them with a promise.

Together forever, those two.

Lilia’s world violently tilted. The castle crumbling, the sky collapsing around him. Yet he, the trained soldier, dug his feet in and stood his ground.

You've been bested. Admit it. Admit defeat...!!

He said the only word he could.

"Congratulations."

Lilia could make out the light at the other end of the tunnel now. The world beyond the walls and castle corridors. He knew the end of the story was fast approaching, and how it would sap his strength, his will to fight on.

Still, he continued.

“The new couple were soon expecting a baby. Someone much like yourself.” Lilia prodded at Silver’s flabby chin. “You’ll be graced with his presence soon enough. The princess’s legacy, Malleus Draconia… My responsibility these past 160 years.”

Silver gurgled.

“So enthusiastic. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Lilia softly chided. “We fae and humans…”

… can never hope to understand each other.

"We fae and humans can understand each other," Raverne would have countered him. "We can make it a reality."

Tiny hands wrapped around Lilia’s finger. His touch, fragile.

You can afford to be hopeful. It drew a bitter chuckle from his handler. Brief reprieve before the plummet into something deeper and darker than the night that guarded them.

“… In a period of great unrest, the duke went missing. The princess was beside herself with worry—yet she remained stalwart for her people, and for their child. She wished every night for her husband to come home safely.”

They had magical might, but the humans had numbers. Each battle, an exchange of hard blows, casualties high on both sides. Reports rolled in as frequently as bodies did.

The people grew concerned, and so she had donned her mask to reassure them. Stoney faced and strong atop her tower.

“We will recover the missing couriers. We will secure our land and resources. We will beat back the outsiders. Briar Country will rise victorious in the war. Man will rue the day they came upon our shores. This, I swear to you as your princess!!”

Uproarious cheering and applause for her, their sovereign. A goddess of victory.

But he, watching from the shadows, knew better than that. All those years roughhousing with her, and he knew.

The face she showed the public and the face she made in private were two sides of the same card. Princess, mother, wife, friend. So many roles, all of them she played with such strength.

Meleanor only slipped when she thought no eyes were on her. When the servants had all retired for the night, and the moon and its stars came out.

Pressing his back to the wall, Lilia shielded his candle’s small circle of light from view. The hallway was drenched in darkness again.

A few paces away, her chambers to which she retreated every evening with her egg. With her dear little Malleus.

He listened.

Soft whimpers sounded from the abyss. Sounds and sights she would not dare show her people.

A leader such as she could not afford to be weak. The same leader who clutched her child to her and furiously prayed for a happy ending.

“Raverne, where are you? Come home… Come home, you idiotic, idealistic man!!”

CRASH!! BANG!! BOOM!!

Lightning lit up the sky. Lilia's flame trembled before righting itself.

Her voice dropped to a devious coo. "... I'm sorry, Malleus. Did that scare you? There, there. It's alright, your mother is here. Your father will be too... and when he does, I shall give him an earful for being away for so long!!"

He listened, for he was the only one who could. He listened until his lids began to droops. He listened until he had to tear himself away.

Before he knocked upon her door. Before he could tell her he was here, to please let him in. Before he could confess, “I miss him too.”

Hold her. Cry with her. Dream with her.

Ask for Raverne back.

“I will never wish for anything more than this. Please. Please…!!”

He had listened then, but no one had listened to him in return. Not even the stars.

Cruel celestial beings, he cursed—if they would not grant his wish, then he would take matters into his own hands.

Raverne…!!

Lilia swallowed thickly. His footfalls had grown heavy, as if weighed down by cinder blocks.

Silver sleepily gummed his finger. Oblivious as to what was to come.

“The conflict escalated.”

It had all happened so fast. Flying by, a blur. Time was not a concern to most fae—a year was barely the blink of an eye. Everything blending together into an indiscernible mush, taken down with ease.

But war never became more palatable. He had simply trained to become numb to it all. The strong smell of iron, the corpses piled high. It was sensory overload, the taste of too many things at once.

A crimson-eyed demon stood at the boundary of a burning village. Inhaled the fumes, smoke and flesh wrapped in fire. Witnessed the leaping flames stretching to the sky.

Who had lived here? Who had died here? Lilia thought of neither.

Had to, or he would fall to his knees and wail.

He held a small cloth doll, long black hair and red dress. Somehow it had survived the carnage. The lone survivor of a massacre. The rest had been slaughtered or evacuated from the area.

Abandoned, just as he had been.

His gaze lidded, fingers closing around the doll. "… As if it were a day. Everywhere I go, it will be in a blink of an eye. Far Cry Cradle.”

Memories arose, pulled by the strings of magic. They exploded across his vision like fireworks. Tinted green and blue and pink.

There was a ghostly child walking among the ruins, smiling as they clung to their mother, doll in their other hand. Daily life making the rounds in the village, helping with chores and playing games. Story events on fast forward.

Then came the knights stomping in their silver suits, masked fae cloaked in black. Buildings caving in, bodies falling, the clang of weapons colliding.

Screams.

Red, red, so much red.

The child horrified, dropping the doll. Staggering steps backward.

He barely cast an eye at them. Surveying the scene straight out of a hellish dream, he sought out a familiar shadow. Had he walked among them, seen the same things he had?

To no avail.

Lilia blinked, and it was the end.

He had not treaded along this path.

“… Damn it, Raverne.” He gripped the doll harder—as if to squeeze out its secrets. Making me hunt you down like this...

“General Vanrouge.”

Lilia did not turn. “Baul.”

“Sir.” He saluted to his superior. “The troops are rested. We are prepared for the final march to the Eastern Fortress.”

“… Yes, I understand. Let’s move out.”

He let the doll fall to the ground. His hands now freed, he pulled his hood up.

“General?” Baul called tentatively.

“The weather is chilly today, don’t you think?” The question, dismissive. Lilia slipped his mask back on—a beastly bat, glaring, teeth protruding.

His tears hidden from view.

Baul nodded. “… Yes, it is. I will remind the men to bundle up, sir.”

He looked away. “Good.”

Lilia firmly set his jaw. “War came knocking at their door, claiming many lives… and threatening to take the princess and her child too.”

There was something automatically off about the fortress when they slipped in. The infiltration too smooth, the corridors too quiet.

Combing the building yielded few results. There was no Raverne, no Dawn Knight. Only cowering staff and scattered humans in iron armor piloting sputtering metal monstrosities.

He cut them down the same as the rest. A mad boar, seeking a true challenge.

"Where are you?! Show yourself...!!" Lilia's demands were hollow in the empty hallways.

A demon snarling for sacrifice, the humans called him. A heartbroken dreamer, seeking the love that he had lost, his troops would whisper amongst themselves.

They found him at the end of a trail of carnage. Panting, sweating, hoarse. The lines between man and monster converged in Lilia Vanrouge.

Then the message was delivered, striking fear into the fearless fae.

"... What?"

The weapon in his hand faltered as realization ripped through him.

“Wild Rose Castle is under siege?!”

"She summoned her knight to her side.” Lilia’s voice quivered, growing small. You’re weak, he snarled at himself, so very, very weak.

Silver, too, seemed to sense the shift in him. He rubbed his cheek against the fae’s finger. Was he trying to comfort himself, or his newfound caretaker?

“The princess asked of him to take her child to safety somewhere far, far away. To forget her. It was her final selfish request for him.”

He had found her seated upon her throne, one arm curled around her precious egg, the other grasping her scepter. It was a sight so familiar, so safe, his chest lifted with relief. Lilia ran to her, calling her name.

"Meleanor-sama!!"

Her arm swept out in an arc, face twisted with fury. On command, a bolt of lightning crashed down in his path.

"Tch...!"

Tucking and rolling, Lilia darted off to the side, narrowly dodging the strike. Where he had once been was a massive scorch mark on the tiled floor.

“You’re LATE, Lilia!!” Meleanor roared. "What if something had happened to me or Malleus before you had arrived?!"

"Hah. As though you would allow that to happen," he scoffed. "You would kill the Silver Owls dead if I weren't here to stop you."

It was their usual game, a playful chase, the exchange of pokes and prods. Today, Meleanor had no such humor. Her expression turned from rage to one of eerie calm.

Lilia shivered.

"They've come for us," she whispered, hugging her egg tightly.

They had always known this day was a possibility. Now it was here, so palpable it was unreal.

From the bridge that ran to the castle came ugly chants twisted with hatred. Hot, oppressive, heavy. The sound like smoke snuffing out the daylight.

“Kill the witch!”

“Seize the castle!”

“Bring me the spoils!”

Horror raced through him.

“Let’s get you to safety, princess. Quickly, before they breach the drawbridge. My men can only hold them off for so long—”

She rose from her throne, descending from her dais. Her stride was not urgent, not eager to flee—the pace closer to the kind one might set for a garden stroll.

Meleanor faced her knight with a small smile. The same one she offered right before suggesting some sort of mischief.

“Lilia.”

“Princess…?”

“I refuse to run.” Her eyes flickered like green fire. “I will stand and fight.”

Panic pulsed in his ears.

“What?! Of all the foolish, hard-headed decisions you’ve made… This is absolutely the most foolish and the most hard-headed one!! I won’t let you go out there. I can’t. You’ll be…!”

A fist closed around his throat. The word died there, half-formed.

“What is it that you wish to say? That I will be hurt? Killed?” Meleanor challenged. So steadfast, so brazen. “You think so little of your princess.”

“This is NOT the time to argue the technicalities!! We need you safe and well, Meleanor-sama. Think of your people! Think of Raverne, your child...!"

Think of me.

She bared her teeth. “What is my power for, if not to protect those I love?”

Her gaze lowered to her egg, then to Lilia. “... You must flee to Black Scale Castle. They will not be able to follow you that deep into the mountain range.”

"I won’t abandon you. If you will stay, then let me fight alongside you as your sword and shield!"

"You have already done plenty for me. Do not mean to play the role of martyr too." Meleanor straightened, looking the part of a regal ruler. “You must go. I have guests to receive.”

"Argh, you stubborn princess!! How will you fight by yourself when you have your child to consider?"

"That," she laughed softly, "is a simple riddle."

His eyes sharpened with recognition of her next scheme. Meleanor wordlessly deposited the egg into Lilia’s arms. It was warm, humming from within the shell.

A life yet to be born, wishes yet to come true.

“I am entrusting you with Malleus,” she murmured sadly. “Please take care of him in his parents' absence."

“Don’t speak that way!!" Lilia snapped.

Don't speak as though we will never meet again, as though this is the final page of our story.

“In the first place, I could never… I can’t raise this child. I don’t know what it is like to love—not the way you and Raverne do. I’ve never had parents. I can’t be one, not when I don’t understand that kind of love!”

Meleanor’s face softened. “But you love me, don’t you? And you love Raverne too.”

He nodded. Slow, hesitant. “We were young. It was a long time ago,” Lilia mumbled.

“You love us,” she grinned, “so surely you are capable of loving our child, the product of our love—and Malleus will feel that. He will respond to you.”

“I’m not…”

“You are deserving of love, Lilia.” This, Meleanor spoke firmly. “Do not let yourself believe otherwise. I shall never forgive you if you do.”

The shouts were growing louder. The castle shuddered, stopped, and shuddered again. Doors being rammed at, forced open.

“Go,” Meleanor hisses. “This is an order from your princess. You cannot refuse.”

She had told that to him many times before. In dreams, in their games. Now, it hurt to hear more than any blow he had taken from battle.

Something in him gave, and instead of stepping away, he stepped forward. Inching closer to the woman out of his reach, but never touching her.

“I’m scared,” Lilia confessed, quiet as snowfall. “What if I lose you like we lost Raverne?”

Then I will be alone again.

“Be not afraid,” she reassured him. Meleanor did not meet him in the eyes.

“Do you promise we will meet again?” he pressed. The egg felt as molten as magma against his armor. “Do you swear?”

BAM!!

The grounds shook—the Silver Owls had successfully taken down a set of barricaded doors.

The cries had reached a fever pitch. Boots trampling upon the sacred grounds. Louder than ever.

Meleanor’s expression darkened, turning grave. It was the look of men at midnight, alone in the woods. Hollow, haunted, unsure of their fate.

No.

“No…!!”

He launched himself at his princess, a hand outstretched for hers. She made no effort to reach for his.

Did not have to.

Lilia fell short, his foot snagging on something. He instinctively twisted his body, shielding the egg in his arms from the floor. His gaze tore to his ankle, where bramble has sprouted up and tangled itself with him.

More thorns crept up around him, swallowing the ceiling, the walls. They latched onto his limbs, dragging him away, away from her. He grunted, struggling against them, against his fate.

Her doing, her magic.

"... Farewell, Lilia."

Tears prickled. His voice raised, pleading with her.

"Meleanor-sama, don't do this.”

She walked past him and ahead, forever out of his grasp.

"Farewell, Malleus."

He tried again, even knowing it was futile.

The bramble was weaving together, forming a tough wall between him and her.

"Meleanor-sama...!"

Through the last opening, a perfect circular window, she uttered her final words to him. That knowing, daring grin. Eyes beholding a gleam brighter than starlight.

"May the Night bless you."

And then she was lost to him forever.

"MELEANOR!!!"

Lilia laid a hand upon the ajar doors to the fallen castle. Fingers curled. At last, he had made it to the frame separating the inside from out.

“... That was the last time the princess was ever heard of. The end to her tragedy.”

He summoned his strength and broke free, entering the waiting night.

The moon, a spotlight for the two.

Silver bristled as he felt his first cool breeze. Still, he did not fully burrow into his blanket—for his glimpse of the stars stilled that instinct. That's right, Lilia thought, of course he would be enchanted. It's his first sky.

Many firsts.

"If you like that, you'll be excited to know that it's always changing. There are a number of new skies to see. It follows us wherever we go."

So we will never be alone.

The sky, so sprawling, so grand. So accustomed to everything and anything.

His small, lonely, insignificant existence was nothing compared to it.

Ah.

A single tear rolled down his cheek, landing on Silver's nose. The infant stilled, feeling the wetness upon his skin.

Lilia furiously wiped it away, then rubbed at his traitorous eyes. The sadness failed to recede, the memories welling. Promises, hopes, dreams dredged up. Yesterdays calling out to him.

"... You lied, Meleanor,” Lilia rasped into the night. “You told me I would be stuck with you for a long time. So why… Why did you have to leave us so soon?”

A thousand swords stabbed into his chest. The pain radiated outward, a bloody bloom.

"It’s not fair," he sobbed, hanging his head. "It’s not fair at all. Meleanor, Raverne… You’ve gone off together to a place I cannot reach, a place I cannot run to. You’ve left me behind. How am I meant to go on like this?”

I'm scared. I’m scared of the dawn and the tomorrows it will bring. Tomorrows without her and him in them. Tomorrows I must face alone.

More tears, plip, plip. A light drizzle upon Silver's face.

The infant stared up through aurora eyes. Not understanding, not knowing anything.

"How could I...”

Lilia’s voice caught on something sharp. He took a trembling gulp.

How could I learn to love you? When your kind, your very father, has taken nearly everything from me?

"... Hey, Silver."

The child cooed, as if in recognition of his own name. More likely, just responding to the sound of Lilia's voice.

Silver, the color of his hair. Silver, the shine of cloud linings. Silver, the start of something new.

"Tell me. What should I do?" Lilia's forehead and his touched.

Silver kicked his bendy little legs at the contact. Flailed his arms.

“Please guide me. I’m lost." He choked up. "I’m… so lost.”

Be the moonlight that guides me in the darkness. When all hope is lost and the stars have gone out, there will always be a silver light illuminating the path out of the black forest.

Show me the way, Silver.

“Show me if I can truly love you from the bottom of my heart.”

Lilia hugged the child to him. Felt his heartbeat, the same throbbing warmth that had radiated from Malleus’s egg.

After all that time alone amid the bramble… He was here. He was alive.

Up until her final moments, she had been thinking of them. Of this. The people she cared for, a baby not yet born.

The love he had let go, the love he had lost, the love he was he had to learn… It slipped away from him so easily, like grains of sand sifting between his fingers.

Lilia sighed with his entire body. The wind, drying his tears. He looked again at the child he had taken.

Silver giggled when he saw Lilia’s face. The boy’s eyes were clear. An unclouded, colorful aurora.

A weight in his chest lifted.

“… Did you enjoy that sad story?”

No answer, but a bop on his nose. Unintentional, he was sure.

Lilia rubbed at the place where he had been struck. There was no wound, no mark. Just a rapidly fading warmth where Silver's small fist had connected.

“… Silly thing,” he groused. In spite of himself, a stuttering chuckle rose from his throat. “If it will keep you from making needless noise, then I will tell you as many stories as you like. You need only promise to not laugh if I shed another tear.”

Silver squealed—close enough of a confirmation for him.

Lilia tried smiling. The corners of his mouth quiver before giving up.

Meleanor’s parting words floated to him. “May the Night bless you.” With that, it was the end of her tale.

The very same words uttered anew, a blessing for the boy once blonde. A fresh chance, the beginning of a new story.

Lilia looked to the horizon.

The first rays of sun were peering through the darkness. Gold streaking black in small slivers. Dawn had arrived.

A new chapter to their fairy tale.

[writing-heiress]

Freya Grimoire

Name: Freya Grimoire

Other Names: Henchman/Henchwoman (by Grim) Koifishie/Nishikigoi (by Floyd), Reine du Sorcière (by Rook), Mouse/Omnivore (by Leona), Libeling/Sweet Potato/Libechen/Hase (by Vil), Beastie/Dearest/Briar Rose (by Malleus), Auntie (by Cheka & Shirohime), Freya-nee (by Mia, Comet, Aladia, Pierre, the Berry Sweets), Mama (by Mallory), Miss Grimoire (by Ophelia, Persia, Rasual, & the staff), Miss Freya (by Carmine, Sylvie, Koda, Arthur, & Zhenwei), Mademoiselle Grimoire (by Drago), Mademoiselle Freya (by Suzette), Fey (by Ophelia), Orchid (by Ophelia & Jeanne), Red Rose (by Nyx), Ya-Ya (by Kianisha), Fre (by Night), Freya-chan (by Sonomi), FreFre (by Yumeri), Raven (by Jeanne), Deadly Nighshade (by Tsukii, Dominque, & Rémy), My Idol (by Dawn), My Lady/My Friend (by Darling), Frey/Miss Aurora (by Minako), Little Grimoire (by Akane & Yuzu), Pretty Lady (by Malori), My sanity and ruthlessness (by Amai), Mini Circe (by Hades), Cub/Lioness (by Scar), Little Beastie (by Maleficent/“Maleficia”)

Twisted From: Aurora from Sleeping Beauty, Meteora Butterfly from SVTFOE, Manhwa + manga villainesses

Gender: Female

Age: 18

Height: 165 cm (5' 5")

Homeland: Briar Valley

Species: (Rosy Maple Moth) Fae-Demon Hybrid

FAMILY

Circe Grimoire (mother)

Chernabog (biological father)

Oliver Grimoire (stepfather)

Dante Grimoire (older brother)

Caine Grimoire (older brother)

Arthur Grimoire (younger half-brother)

Nera Bellegarde (older half-sister)

Rowena Grimoire (maternal grandmother)

Samuel Grimoire (maternal grandfather)

Autumn Grimoire (maternal aunt)

Sage Grimoire (maternal aunt)

Cordelia Grimoire (maternal aunt)

The Odd Sisters (paternal aunts)

Mallory (adoptive son)

Esmeralda (ancestor)

Dorm: Ramshackle

Grade: Junior

Class: Class 3-C

Clubs: Science Club & Mountain Lovers Club

Best Subjects: Culinary, Practical Magic

Likes: The arts, magic, her family and friends, her coven, the kids, Ramshackle, her bakery/cafe business, her butterflies, anime, manga, designing, nature, her familiars, sweets, going to markets, gaming, training for friends, cooking monsters

Dislikes: Doing Crowley's job for him, having to break up fights between Leona & Minako, being underestimated, Celine, holy magic, being treated like a monster, Rollo, Micheal, her old bullies

Hobbies: Fashion design, Painting, Cooking, Baking

Talents: Aerial silk, Learning various types/forms of magic, Homebrew makeup

Favorite Food: Basque Cheesecake

Least Favorite Food: Toffee

PERSONALITY

Freya is often described by many people to be one of two ways: as beautiful and ethereal as her physical appearance or as someone who is not only extremely terrifying, but also incredibly ruthless to those who anger her. She is said to have a very powerful aura surrounding her that either attracts people to her or frightens them.

More often times, Freya is soft-spoken, non-judgmental, and compassionate towards people. This is especially the case with Ramshackle and the children (those in Ramshackle, Gidel, & the Berry Sweets) as the former view her as selfless and dedicated dorm head & the latter viewing her as a loving and kind older sister.

She is very much of a mastermind among masterminds, being highly intelligent and manipulative. Freya is meticulous when it comes to her planning, often thinking about every possible detail and usually following the more possible route. Often times, she is the go-to someone that Ramshackle and even those in other dorms often turn to for help.

Freya is as patient as they come, handling the chaotic environment that is her dorm. But that isn't to say that her patience doesn't have limits, but hardly anyone has actually reached her limit.

Resourceful, inventive, and adaptable, Freya is known for being able to use what she has in order to reach her goals, such as when she was rebuilding Ramshackle to be a dorm that was actually livable during her freshman year. Not just that, but she uses the inventiveness when she inventing something, whether it be a new type of potion, clothing line, or invention.

SKILLS AND MAGIC

Strength: Freya has super human strength. She has been seen to overpower people and creatures over twice her size with ease.

Magic Mastery: Because Freya grew up around magic her entire life and because her family was her personal teachers, she has a lot of opportunity to practice to the point where she has learned how to use multiple types of elemental magic.

Infinity Magic: Because she was given the gift of Infinity when she was born, Freya is able to use Infinity Magic, which means that she not only has an endless amount of mana, but also able to keep her spells going on without any worries.

Wild Magic: Freya can use the rawest form of magic better known as wild magic.

Blot Consumption: Being a demon, Freya can consume blot without problem.

UNIQUE MAGIC

Freya's Unique Magic is called "Artistic Blessings". She has the ability to bless anything she made herself through artistic/creative means. Since art takes on many forms, like cooking, music, fashion, and painting, her UM is very versatile.

TRIVIA

The name Freya is a reference to the Norse goddess of the same name, who was in charge of love, fertility, battle, and death and known for being both a gentle ruler and a fierce warrior.

Freya constantly wears a glamour in order to hide her moth features, more specifically her neck fluff. This was due to :eona constantly using her fluff as a pillow during her sophomore year.

She is a eclectic chaos witch.

Her grandfather taught her how to use silk in various ways as it is a skill that many silk moth faes learn when they're young.

She has what many called witch beauty, evil beauty, and bunny pretty.

She’s a pretty good apothecary, having her own personal kitchen located in Ramshackle for her recipes.

Although many in NRC like her, they are all equally afraid of her, even some of the staff.

Freya is multilingual.

Original Characters

Minako, Akane, Yuzu, Aladia, Pierre, & Shirohime belong to @queen-of-twisted

Ophelia, Drago, Persia, Rasual, Arthur, Carmine, Sylvie, & Koda belong to @abyssthing198

Darling belong to @fair-night-starry-tears

Malori & Amai belong to @yukii0nna

Sonomi & Yumeri belong to @kousaka-ayumu

Dawn, Night, Kianisha, Tsukii, Dominique, Rémy, Nyx, & Jeanne by @achy-boo

Tagging — @adrianasunderworld @abyssthing198 @the-trinket-witch @the-weirdos-mind @yukii0nna @yumeko2sevilla @boopshoops @tragedytells-tales @liviavanrouge @queen-of-twisted @ice-cweam-sod4 @mangacupcake @fair-night-starry-tears @starry-night-rose @achy-boo @kousaka-ayumu @missingmnemosyne @1-800-camelliahotline

[mercurygray]

30. Ask anything! - What's the story you've written that made you the happiest and why?

What's the story you've written that made you the happiest and why?

A Rose Among the Briars was one of the first long format projects I ever finished. It was a monster of a Lord of the Rings fanfic that took me nearly five years to wrap up, and it made me happy because it showed me I could do big things, that I could finish big things, and it's a piece that still, nearly ten years later, people still remember me for and have a fond place in their hearts for. Oh, and it was translated into French! And it's also maaaaaybe being fan-bound? Which is AMAZING.

Anyway, it's the fic that makes me feel like a big deal in fandom even though it's actually pretty small potatoes and that's why it makes me happy.

[fandom fic writer asks!]

[swan-of-fabletown]

A waiter came to take their food ordering & which are very quickly as they thought. As the ladies waited, Snow, Briar Rose and Cinderella were talking & they had a series of topics. From talking about fashion, the past and even their ex-husband. Charming. Keira didn't say anything as she was thinking and unsure whether to do this again with the three former princesses. So Keira sat and listened and drank some of her wine. The starter came quicker than expected, Waiter: Your starters, today's soup is Cauliflower Cheese. The Waiter placed the bowls in front of each of the ladies.

Keira was looking forward & she was a bit curious about how the former princesses how'd their soup. Briar Rose adding some pepper to her soup, and Snow put butter on the warm crusty bread. Cinderella: You never guess who came to the shop the other day? Snow: Who? Cinderella: Miss Muffet Briar: What does she want? Cinderella: She told me she has a date with Mr Web.

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober: Day 19

abandoned cabin / Yarn

The wood creaked as fibers ran through the spinning wheel.

Malleus was always entranced whenever his grandmother wove. There was something hypnotic about whiling the hours away with one singular goal.

With the approaching frontier of technology, advancements being made seemingly as fast as Malleus could grow new teeth, textiles in all colors and shapes had become more commonplace.

He believed that was largely a good thing. The material comforts he often took for granted deserved to be proliferated among the masses.

For the House of Draconi, however, the act of spinning would likely be buried with them.

Black Scale Castle was lined with the efforts of his ancestors. Wedding tapestries, baby blankets, ornately embroidered frocks, even sets of pillowcases.

The majority was kept in the family vaults, as it was too large a collection to keep constantly on display, but at least one piece from every reign decorated Black Scale.

He knew his mother hadn’t made much in her short time. On the advice of several of the records of previous rulers, she had stayed her hand during her and his father’s courting phase, believing she had a whole lifetime to make him and his father more.

She’d been in the middle of a large rug that would have gone in his nursery at the time of her passing. The rug, loose threads and all, had been framed and hung in there instead.

“Before long,” spoke his grandmother, hands never straying from the spindle, “but hopefully not too soon, you will begin your own work.”

She continued. “Though you will decide for yourself what method, I feel it is important for you to know every step in this process. Do you know why?”

“No,” answered Malleus.

“It is because you must learn to appreciate the work that goes into love, and into a successful relationship.“

She adjusted something on the wheel before contributing. “Love, with the right person, can feel magical. Complacency in its source will cause the fountain to run dry.”

Malleus nodded, but he didn’t fully understand. “Who is this for?”

“This yarn shall be for you. I will teach you spinning later, but for now, we will start with knitting and crochet. You will make yourself a hat and gloves for winter.”

She patted her lap. “Come. Observe me closely.”

Malleus climbed up onto her lap, happy to be surrounded by his grandmother.

—

“So this is where you went.”

Malleus turned around to see Yuu in the doorway.

Members of Night Raven’s student body were on a field trip to the Briar Valley, to observe the Welcoming of Spring, and Malleus had generously lent them use of one of the many properties his family owned, this one a cozy cabin farther away from the bigger cities.

“Ah, I apologize,” he said, putting down his work. Being a good host was draining, but he’d had enough of a break.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” said Yuu, waving it off. “We were just setting up a board game. Wanna be on my team?”

Malleus took one last glance at his work to make sure he’d remember where he left off- a grey scarf, the same silvery grey Yuu often favored- and placed it to his side.

“I would love to,” he said, tongue curling around the word as the corners of his mouth rose as if by magic.

[hatchetfield-bang]

It's here!! The 2024 Teams Roster!!

Wow! Our most popular year so far, and our most successful first check-in/claims! We also had a very successful beta claims for the first time ever!!! Without further ado, get excited for the teams of the 2024 Hatchetfield Bang!!!

Love Runs Blue Author: Amanda/Calc Artist: Arran/Wiz Artist: Jade

For as long as my heart beats, our love shall fill it Author: Arthur Artist: Crypt Beta: Cami/Mike

Double Trouble Author: Love Artist: Kostya Artist: Axel

My Imaginary Friend, the Horror Author: Hayley Artist: Apollo/Pax Artist: Indigo

A Budding Conspiracy Author: Ash Artist: Artsy Artist: Oli

Sleazy Grown-Ups Must Die Author: Nab Artist: Jude Artist: Noodle

Little Briar Rose Author: Cal Artist: Teddy Beta: Pamela

Save The Town, Save The World Author: Felix Artist: Banana Bread Artist: Myth Beta: Lou

The God Of Friendship Author: Cas Artist: Grape/Kai Artist: Chloe Beta: Lou

when everything gets heavy, i've learned to travel light Author: Dragon Artist: Lo Artist: Teddy Beta: Lou

Ziria Author: Rats Artist: Noodle Artist: Jade Beta: Andi

She Walks Among the Stars Author: Dylbo Artist: Maddy Artist: Temmie Beta: Feather

Abstinence Camp Continued Author: Myth Artist: Ricky

Let's Do The Timewarp Again Author: Feather Artist: Kaz Artist: Nico Beta: Violet

Flash, Bang, Jane Author: Amanda/Calc Artist: Chloé Beta: Charlotte

Learning to Love Again (For the First Time) Author: Dylbo Artist: Finn Beta: Lucy

2003 Author: Love Artist: Tere Artist: Storm

Hallowed be thy name Author: Frog Artist: Olly Beta: Feather

The Senior Shriek Author: Felix Artist: Jasper Artist: Achilles Beta: Violet

Bleeding Memories Author: Ash Artist: Chloe Beta: Andi

Transfer My Tragedy Author: Felix Artist: Maddy

Grace Rips Off A Carrie Author: Ember Artist: Myth

Branches of the Willow Author: Nick Li Artist: Dan Beta: Temmie

leaning over us in icy stars Author: Rats Artist: Ace Artist: Ash

Reflections Author: Megan Artist: Domo

innocence died screaming, honey (i slithered here from eden just to sit outside your door) Author: Scott Artist: Olly Beta: Feather

How Far We've Come Author: Nier Artist: Morgan

Sweetheart Author: Grape/Kai Artist: Maddy Beta: Violet

The Hatchetfield Games Author: Charlotte Artist: Achilles Beta: Cami/Mike

i'll never let you go (take me back) Author: Ali Artist: Green Beta: Charlotte

Alice Woodward Must Die Author: Emmelie Artist: Silver Beta: Love

The Hatchetfield Poets Department Author: Charlotte Artist: Andi Beta: Love

NPMD Among Us AU Author: Andi Artist: Ren Artist: Emmett

Nothing means everything (to me) Author: Frog Artist: Amy

dead kids (where do they go?) Author: Em Artist: Cass Artist: Ace

and the bible didn't mention us (not even once) Author: Amy Artist: Storm Beta: Love

Only Hers Author: Abi Artist: Marc

[pagerunner-j]

fic roundup: 2024

Since the end of the year is just around the corner, I think it's time to sum up the fics I wrote this year. As it happens, they're all about two characters who decided to take over my brain fifteen years after their last TV episode aired. Because I am apparently nothing but timely.

So: presenting The Long Road Home, and its side stories in TRH: Detours. It's an ongoing series (named after its first entry) about Rose and Tentoo from Doctor Who, and it looks into what they might be getting up to in their alternate universe. This starts as a romance and gets much more eventful from there...but the romance certainly isn't letting go of me, either.

New readers always welcome; signal boosts much appreciated! (And I'm tagging a couple of my fellow Tentoo/Rose degenerates that I'm following here, @thirdeyeblue and @quite-right-too, in case this might be of interest. :)

--

The Long Road Home: the series

The Long Road Home (M, 24,564 words)

Rose and Tentoo, getting to understand each other, trust each other, and eventually love each other, on the way home from Bad Wolf Bay. Featuring a long-overdue family road trip, deleted scenes turning into essential plot, existential crises, asides from Jackie Tyler, the wrong Beatles, inappropriate ways to answer room service, and your author shamelessly abusing the limits of touch telepathy.

Understandings and Ultimatums (M, 6,808 words)

An interlude following The Long Road Home, in which Rose and Tentoo, temporarily staying with Rose's parents, maybe start getting a little carried away with each other. And Pete's got a few words to say to the Doctor about it. Oops. Featuring badly timed father-daughter check-ins, the Doctor continuing to come to terms with having a whole lot less a in his sexuality these days, a children's toy as a conversation starter, Rose getting alternately irritated and turned on by possessive men, and absolutely everybody complaining about London real estate.

At the Threshold (T, 8,575 words)

Rose and Tentoo find themselves facing a number of major life decisions. Some aren't quite yet decided upon, but some important ones are coming together at last. Featuring the joys of house hunting, the tricky question of names, pointed motherly advice, Time Lord talents at work, gratuitous Shakespeare geekery, ongoing telepathy shenanigans, and life-changing phone calls happening at really inconvenient times.

Four Ceremonies (T, 21,812 words)

A home claimed, a seed planted, a commitment made, and promises spoken. Rose and Tentoo on the road to marriage, and a few other, perhaps even more significant things.

Entanglements (M, 21,030 words)

Rose and the Doctor may have found a good life together, but that doesn't mean all their worries--or their past traumas--have gone away quite yet. In which the emotional rent comes due, some painful stories are revealed, risky levels of intimacy are reached, a good number of unsettling memories and dreams unfold, and Rose finds her way to the solution for a tricky problem with their TARDIS. But that might come with a certain cost, too, and it might not only be hers to pay. Featuring Rose, Tentoo, and...well, Ten, too.

Coming to Light (E, 6,588 words)

All right, all right. Before we get down to main-plot business, let's let these two crazy kids, well, get down to business. A Long Road Home interlude, in which Rose and Tentoo take that trip to Barcelona (the Pete's World version, anyway), discover the alien weirdness behind one of this city's strangest neighborhoods, and then, inspired by that day's escapades, make good on both the rating of the story and the verb choice in the title. ...hey, they're having a nice time on their holidays, who am I to argue.

The House Among the Briars (M, 22,388 words)

Go big or never go home. In which Rose and Tentoo finally discover the secret of the house where they've been living, but get stranded in separate dimensions in the process. To find their way back to each other, they have to confront parts of themselves that they might not want to have to accept. For the Doctor, it's the rage he's been warned about virtually ever since he first came to be. And for Rose, it's something even more dangerous, and a whole lot stranger. Because it might be time for a certain bad wolf to come back out to play...

The Wolves in the Woods (T, 48,312 words)

Rose and Tentoo have secrets. Torchwood has questions. Everything is about to come to a head one way or another, especially if the director of interdimensional research at Torchwood gets her way. And Rose and the Doctor are going to have to figure out how to stop her, before she lays a claim on their growing TARDIS...or on the two of them themselves.

Within the Kaleidoscope (M, 75,746, in progress)

Vignettes from Rose and Tentoo's lives as two life-changing events unfold: the growth of their new TARDIS, and Rose's unexpected pregnancy. These two things may end up linked in ways they didn't anticipate. And all the while, a larger alien mystery is slowly coming to light. Will be updated periodically.

--

The Long Road Home: Detours

Under Review (E, 7,004 words)

A missing scene from early in the Long Road Home series, in which Rose and Tentoo, near the end of their temporary stay with Rose's parents, finish saying a goodbye of sorts to the Tyler house. If "saying goodbye" is really the term for the spot of roleplay they're getting up to in the home office. (It isn't.) Miss Rose, it's time for your annual performance review...and Mr. Smith has notes. Follows on from Understandings and Ultimatums, explores a bit of Rose and the Doctor figuring out their new relationship boundaries and tastes, and makes good on that aside at the end of U&U about hoping Pete never finds out what these two are planning on doing with his desk. (Sorry, Pete.)

To See the Dark Nights Through (M, 1683 words)

Rose and Tentoo both have nightmares sometimes about their time apart, their lasting fears, and the stranger qualities of their lives. They've found ways to help each other through it. And a fair few of those involve not leaving the bed.

Impossible Gifts (M, 3,813 words)

And now, time for some absolutely shameless holiday fluff. In which Tentoo and Rose get ready for the holidays, tell some stories, and keep the deepest dark at bay in the best way they know how. Which means exactly what you've probably just guessed. Fits into the early stretches of the Long Road Home series, but can be read as a standalone.