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lotuswish · 27 days ago

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𑁍ࠬܓ how they react when they see you hurt (housewardens & jamil)

synopsis: pain is not something he ever wanted to associate with you. but seeing you injured—knowing someone dared to harm you—shatters his composure. for some, it’s rage; for others, panic. and for a few, it’s cold, terrifying control—until he knows you’re safe. but one thing is certain: someone will pay for this.

featured character(s): riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, kalim al-asim, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia.

content warning(s): angst, mentions of violence and implied revenge, mild injury descriptions (ex. bruises, wounds, pain etc.), spoilers for book 6 in idia’s part.

a/n: they’re just being silly, guys. <3

link(s): (masterlist)

riddle rosehearts

riddle prides himself on maintaining control.

his entire life has been shaped by discipline, by structure, by the belief that emotions must be ruled by logic. he does not allow himself to be reckless, does not allow himself to be overcome. everything he does is precise, calculated, deliberate.

but the moment he sees you hurt—

everything unravels.

his breath catches in his throat, his heart slamming against his ribs, his mind instantly abandoning all reason. his entire world sharpens to a singular point—you—and all at once, every ounce of restraint he’s spent years perfecting is hanging by a fragile, fraying thread.

“who did this?”

his voice is sharper than you’ve ever heard it, trembling with something raw, something dangerously close to rage.

he’s beside you in an instant, dropping to his knees without hesitation, his hands hovering—not touching, not yet, because what if he makes it worse? what if he hurts you somehow? his fingers tremble, itching to reach out, to make sure—

“tell me where it hurts,” he says, but his voice wavers. “tell me what happened.”

his hands are gentle but firm as he checks you over, his usually practiced movements clumsy with the weight of panic. he doesn’t even realize his breathing is uneven, doesn’t even notice the way his shoulders are shaking as he looks you over, as he takes in every bruise, every wound, every sign that something happened—

something he didn’t prevent.

“you should have been more careful,” he scolds, but the words come out thin, forced, like he’s trying to hold something else back.

you try to tell him you’re fine, try to brush it off, but he doesn’t believe you. his eyes flicker with frustration, his jaw tightening, his grip on your wrist just a fraction too tense.

“don’t be ridiculous—you’re hurt,” he snaps, and then immediately exhales, forcing himself to breathe. “just… stay still. let me handle this.”

he refuses to let you wave it away. refuses to leave it alone. you are not fine, and he will not let you convince him otherwise.

but even as he focuses on making sure you’re okay, something else burns at the edges of his mind, pressing against his temples like an unbearable weight—

who did this to you?

his hands clench into fists. his breathing evens out, but his posture remains rigid, coiled tight like a string about to snap.

because once you’re safe—once he’s certain that you’re okay, that you’ll recover, that he didn’t fail you—

then, and only then, will he deal with the one responsible.

his mother may have taught him restraint, but some things are unforgivable.

and hurting you is one of them.

leona kingscholar

danger.

his body registers it before his mind does, his instincts kicking in the moment his eyes land on you—hurt, vulnerable, not okay.

his vision tunnels, his pulse spikes, and suddenly, the world around him doesn’t matter anymore.

“what the hell happened?”

his voice is a low, guttural growl, thick with something dark, something uncontrollable. his hands clench at his sides, every muscle coiled, his body ready—ready to fight, ready to destroy, ready to eliminate whatever put you in this state.

but then he sees it—sees the way you’re holding yourself, the way your breath hitches, the way you flinch just slightly—and suddenly, the anger has to be forced down, swallowed like bile in the back of his throat.

because right now, you come first.

so he moves, closing the distance in a single step, his hands reaching for you before he can stop himself. his hands are gentle from the start, unusually so. these hands of his are capable of devastation, of turning flesh to dust, of summoning ruin with a mere touch. but against you, they are careful, restrained. the second he feels the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips, the tension in his hold eases, his hands softening, steadying you instead of breaking you.

“who did this?”

his voice is still dangerous, still thick with that barely restrained fury, but now there’s something else underneath it.

concern.

fear.

he hates how it makes his chest tighten. hates the way it lingers at the edges of his thoughts, nagging at him, clawing at something buried deep beneath his usual indifference.

he kneels in front of you, his sharp, emerald eyes scanning every inch of you with terrifying intensity. his fingers ghost over your injuries, his jaw clenched so tight you can hear his teeth grind together.

“tell me.” his voice is dangerous now.

and then—when you hesitate, when you try to brush it off, when you lie—

his patience snaps.

“don’t give me that.” his grip tightens just slightly, his expression darkening. “you’re hurt. don’t act like it’s nothing.”

there’s no room for argument in his tone. no patience for your stubbornness, no willingness to accept anything less than the truth.

if you try to keep it from him, if you refuse to say who’s responsible, then fine—he’ll find out himself.

because someone did this.

and once you’re safe—once he’s sure you’re okay, once he’s made damn sure you’ll recover—

then he’s hunting.

“stay here,” he mutters, standing to his full height, his tail flicking behind him in barely restrained aggression. “i’ll take care of it.”

and if you try to stop him?

his gaze flickers down to you, something sharp, something scorching, like the unrelenting heat of the desert sun at its peak—blistering, unforgiving, merciless.

“no one lays a damn hand on you and gets away with it.”

and then he’s gone, a storm of unbridled wrath, a lion on the hunt.

azul ashengrotto

azul is a man of careful calculations.

every word, every action, every decision he makes is deliberate. he has spent years crafting a persona of charm, wit, and effortless composure—one that allows him to stay in control, no matter the circumstances. he does not flinch, does not waver, does not lose to uncertainty.

but then he sees you hurt.

and suddenly, all of that control is gone.

his breath catches, his body locks up, and for one horrifying moment, his mind is utterly blank.

“you—what happened?”

his voice doesn’t sound like his own. it’s too sharp, too raw, lacking the usual smoothness he prides himself on.

he rushes to you without thinking, but the second he’s close enough to touch, he hesitates. his fingers hover inches above your skin, his knuckles white with the force of his restraint. his mind is screaming at him to act, to do something, but a terrible thought wedges itself into his panic—

what if i make it worse?

he doesn’t trust his own hands, doesn’t trust his own judgment, not when the sight of you like this is unraveling him from the inside out.

“tell me what hurts,” he demands, his words tumbling out in a way that’s almost frantic. “is it serious? how bad is it?”

his thoughts spiral immediately, jumping to the worst possible conclusions. is it critical? should he be calling for medical attention? what if you’re downplaying it? what if he’s not fast enough?

and then you try to brush it off.

“nothing?” he echoes, breath hitching. his voice almost cracks—and he hates that. “how can you say that when you’re—when you—”

his hands clench into fists, shaking slightly as he forces himself to breathe.

“just—just stay still,” he mutters, voice tight with strain. “i’ll take care of it.”

because if there is one thing he knows, one thing he can control, it’s fixing things. making deals. offering solutions.

“i’ll call a healer. i’ll get whatever you need—whatever you want.”

his words come too fast, his mind still racing, but through it all, his hands never leave yours.

his grip is too tight, fingers wrapped around yours like a lifeline, like letting go isn’t an option he’s willing to consider.

because if he lets go—if he loses you—

he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle it.

and when it’s over—when he knows you’ll be okay—he still doesn’t let you out of his sight.

“you scared me,” he murmurs, quieter than before.

his voice is steadier now, but you can still hear the remnants of his fear, lingering in the way his thumb brushes absentmindedly over your knuckles, in the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath this entire time.

and for the first time since you’ve met him—since he built the persona of azul ashengrotto, the untouchable businessman, the man always one step ahead—

he lets you see just how fragile he becomes when it comes to you.

kalim al-asim

kalim is always smiling.

he is a beacon of joy, a burst of light in every room he enters. when things go wrong, he looks for the silver lining. when people are hurting, he lifts them up with his boundless energy. sadness is something he refuses to dwell on, something he fights against with warmth and laughter.

but when he sees you hurt?

his entire world stops.

“oh no, oh no—”

the words leave him before he can think, his breath catching as his heart lurches in his chest. he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pause to process what he’s seeing—his body moves, fast and instinctive, rushing to your side.

his hands cradle your face, warm and steady despite the frantic tremor in his touch.

“are you okay? what happened? does it hurt? how bad is it?”

his voice is shaking. he’s shaking.

and when he finally really looks at you, when he takes in the way you wince, the way you hold yourself like you’re trying to hide the pain—his chest tightens, his stomach twisting into something awful.

“why didn’t anyone stop it? why didn’t i stop it?”

guilt. overwhelming, suffocating guilt floods him like a tidal wave.

“i should’ve been there! i should’ve protected you!”

his grip on you tightens—not enough to hurt, just enough to let you know he’s here. he isn’t letting go. he won’t let go.

and then, before you can stop him—before you can tell him it’s not a big deal—his eyes start to glisten.

“kalim, are you—”

“i’m not crying!” he absolutely is. “i just—you scared me!”

his voice wobbles, and suddenly, he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you too tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“don’t move, okay? just stay right here! i’ll get someone to help—i’ll fix this, i promise!”

if it’s something small—just a minor scrape, a bruise—he still treats it like it’s life-threatening. he refuses to let you walk it off, refuses to let you act like it’s fine.

if it’s something worse? if you are seriously hurt?

he panics, but his movements are certain. without hesitation, he lifts you into his arms, holding you to his chest like you’re something precious, like you belong nowhere else but safe in his hands.

“i’ve got you,” he whispers, voice breaking. “i won’t let anything happen to you.”

and when he finally gets you to safety, when he finally knows you’re okay—

he still won’t stop fussing.

“you need to rest! do you want pillows? i’ll get you pillows! or tea! do you want tea? i’m sure jamil will—jamil! we need tea!”

“kalim, i’m fine—”

“no, you’re not fine! i was so scared!”

his fingers squeeze yours.

and later, when you’re patched up, when the worst of the moment has passed—

he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes.

“don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”

his voice is softer now, the usual excitement dimmed into something deeply sincere.

“i don’t ever wanna see you hurt again.”

jamil viper

jamil was raised to handle crises.

he has spent his entire life being the one who steps in when things go wrong, the one who fixes things while everyone else panics. no matter the situation, no matter the chaos, no matter the pressure—he is always in control.

so when he sees you hurt, when he registers the way you’re holding yourself, the way your face twists with pain—

his stomach drops.

but his body moves on instinct.

“where?”

his voice is steady. too steady. his mind is screaming, but his tone doesn’t waver, his movements are calculated, precise. he crouches in front of you immediately, eyes scanning you with sharp, assessing precision.

“how bad is it? let me see.”

he doesn’t waste time. doesn’t ask what happened—not yet. because right now, the only thing that matters is making sure you’re okay.

his hands are warm but firm, brushing over you carefully as he checks for injuries. his fingers ghost over your wrist, your arm, the side of your face—everywhere that might be hurt—his touch gentle but filled with purpose.

“it’s not broken,” he murmurs under his breath, half to himself, half to reassure you. “no major swelling… does this hurt?”

and then—when you flinch, when you let out the softest hiss of pain—

something inside him snaps.

his jaw clenches. his breathing slows.

“who.”

his eyes flick up to meet yours, and for the first time, there is something dangerous in his gaze.

“who did this?”

if there is a culprit—if someone is responsible for this—then they are not leaving unscathed.

but even as fury thrums through his veins, even as his mind races with ways to handle the situation, he forces himself to prioritize you first.

“can you walk?” his voice is softer now, his tone slipping back into something controlled, something measured.

if you say yes, he doesn’t let you prove it. he supports you immediately, one arm around your waist, guiding you effortlessly as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

if you say no, he lifts you without hesitation. no warning, no asking—just picking you up, his hold secure, unshakable.

“don’t argue,” he mutters, barely sparing you a glance. “just let me take care of it.”

because he will.

and once he gets you somewhere safe, once he’s made sure you’re being treated properly, once he knows with certainty that you are okay—

then, and only then, does he allow himself to breathe.

“you’re reckless,” he mutters, his voice a mix of exasperation and something far too raw. “i don’t have time to deal with this every time you get yourself hurt, you know.”

but his fingers tighten just slightly where they rest against your arm, betraying the truth behind his words.

because if something had happened—if things had been worse—

he doesn’t even want to think about what he would have done.

vil schoenheit

perfection is vil’s standard.

not just in beauty, not just in his work, but in everything—his composure, his discipline, the way he carries himself. he does not allow himself to be reckless. he does not make careless mistakes. he does not let emotions rule him.

but then he sees you hurt.

and something inside him fractures.

his lips press together, his expression unreadable, his body rigid—the only betrayal of the storm brewing beneath his flawless exterior is the way his fingers tighten just slightly at his sides, the way his breath is a fraction too controlled.

“where are you hurt?”

his voice is steady. cold. clinical. but his eyes—his eyes—

they burn.

he crosses the distance between you in two strides, his gloved fingers already reaching for you. his touch is firm but delicate, brushing over your skin with the kind of precision only someone like him could possess.

“sit down.” it’s not a request. “don’t move until i’ve assessed the damage.”

you try to downplay it, try to insist that it’s nothing, but his sharp gaze cuts through you instantly.

“do not insult me by pretending this is fine,” he snaps, his voice sharp as glass. “you are hurt. i can see it. so let me handle it.”

his fingers ghost over your injuries, his touch meticulous, searching. he catalogues everything—the severity, the placement, the way you react when he presses too close.

he is silent as he works, but the tension in his shoulders speaks volumes.

“this never should have happened.” the words slip out low, almost a whisper, but the weight behind them is undeniable. “i should have—”

but he cuts himself off before he finishes the thought.

vil schoenheit does not dwell in should haves.

he fixes things. he prevents disasters before they happen.

but right now, all he can do is make sure you are okay.

“i’ll handle this,” he says smoothly, already preparing to tend to your wounds himself. “stay still.”

his movements are precise, every action perfectly executed—cleaning, bandaging, ensuring no imperfections remain. but his touch lingers just slightly longer than necessary, his fingers brushing over your wrist, your palm, the curve of your shoulder with a tenderness that is almost imperceptible.

and when it’s over—when you are properly cared for, when the worst of the moment has passed—he finally exhales.

“you worried me,” he murmurs, and it is softer now, less controlled, less rehearsed.

and then—just for a second—his fingers ghost against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him.

“i won’t let this happen again. not ever.”

his voice is gentle. his eyes are not.

because if anyone had a hand in this—if someone is responsible for this pain—

then they will regret ever daring to touch you.

idia shroud

idia doesn’t do well under pressure.

he was not built for high-stakes situations, for stress, for emotions so raw they leave no room for second chances. he hates unpredictability, hates chaos, hates not knowing what to do.

so when he sees you hurt—

his mind shuts down.

for a full second, he just stares, his breath caught somewhere in his throat, his fingers twitching but unable to move.

no, no, no, no, no—

his brain latches onto the worst possibilities immediately. how bad is it? is it fatal? what if you’re bleeding out? what if it’s internal? what if he doesn’t react fast enough?

what if he loses you?

his stomach twists violently, a familiar, awful panic rising in his throat, threatening to choke him.

because this—this exact fear—is something he’s lived through before.

he remembers the first time. the real first time.

losing ortho was something he never saw coming. something he never thought could happen. and even though he’s built him again, recreated him, brought back a version of his little brother—

he still remembers.

remembers what it felt like to be too late. to fail someone he loved. to stand there, frozen in horror, helpless to stop it.

and now—

now it’s you.

you, the only person who matters to him besides ortho. you, the person who understands him, who stays, who chooses him despite all the reasons not to. you, who has somehow become his entire world without him even realizing it.

“oh seven—okay, okay—don’t freak out—no, wait, i’m the one freaking out—”

he rushes toward you but stops short, his hands hovering inches away, shaking.

“w-wait, should i touch you? would that make it worse?? oh seven, what if i make it worse—”

his mind is short-circuiting. too many variables. too many possible failures.

“idia,” you start, but he whirls on you, wide-eyed and frantic.

“y-you have to tell me exactly how bad it is, okay? give me a numerical rating—no, no, wait, i don’t trust the pain scale, um—can you move?? do you need a doctor??”

his breathing is erratic, his fingers clutching at the edge of his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

but then—just like before—you try to reassure him.

“i’m okay.”

he stops.

his whole body locks up, his mind struggling to catch up.

”…are you sure?”

his voice is so small. so uncertain.

because he’s already lost someone before.

and if he lost you too—if this was his fault, if he wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, good enough—

he doesn’t know what he would do.

even when he’s finally convinced that you’re not dying, he still refuses to leave your side. he hovers awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, clearly itching to do something to make himself useful.

so he does what he knows best—

“d-do you wanna lay down? i, uh, set up a recovery station in my room. blankets. snacks. medkits—y’know, just in case. w-we can watch something comforting, i won’t even complain about the genre. promise.”

his voice is still wobbly, still slightly frayed at the edges, but the tension in his shoulders finally eases when you nod.

and later—when you’re safe, resting, and no longer in pain—

his fingers brush against yours, hesitant, unsure, before finally intertwining them properly.

“never scare me like that again, okay?”

his voice is quiet. but this time, it doesn’t shake.

because he won’t lose you too.

he can’t.

malleus draconia

malleus has lived longer than most.

a century and more has passed since his birth. he has seen generations rise and fall, watched mortals grow old in the blink of an eye. nothing unsettles him. nothing disturbs his calm.

but then he sees you hurt.

and the entire world stands still.

his breath halts, and the air around him shifts—the very atmosphere bending beneath the weight of something primordial, something as vast and unrelenting as the storm-laden skies over the land of briar.

his first instinct is not panic.

it is rage.

“who did this?”

his voice is low, steady, but beneath the surface, something dangerous lurks.

his emerald eyes gleam, faintly glowing in the dim light. the shadows stretch taller, the wind outside stills, the very earth itself seems to pause, as if the land itself knows what kind of wrath is building within him.

his hands twitch at his sides, claws curling, magic crackling faintly at his fingertips—not for you, never for you, but for whoever was foolish enough to harm you.

but he stops himself. forces himself to breathe.

because you come first.

he is in front of you in an instant, his movements as fluid as shadow, his expression unreadable. his hands—hands that could command storms, reduce castles to rubble, shatter the very sky—reach for you with an almost unnatural gentleness.

“let me see,” he murmurs, his fingers ghosting over your injury, tracing the bruises, the cuts, the places where pain lingers.

his touch is featherlight, his movements precise, but beneath it all, his body is rigid with barely restrained fury.

“who did this?” he repeats, quieter now, but infinitely more terrifying.

if you don’t answer, if you try to downplay it, if you lie—

his gaze darkens, something thunderous in his silence.

“do not shield them from me.”

he is not so easily deceived. he sees the hesitation in your eyes, the way you waver, the way you avoid his gaze. if you refuse to tell him, it does not matter—he will find out on his own.

but first—

“hold still,” he murmurs, raising his hand.

a pulse of magic hums through the air, a whisper of ancient power curling around your form like a protective shroud. the ache dulls, the wounds begin to close, the pain fades.

“better?” he asks, softer now, something tender hidden beneath the weight of his fury.

but even as he tends to you, even as he ensures you are safe—

his mind is already elsewhere.

because someone hurt you.

and for that, there will be consequences.

malleus does not act rashly. he does not lash out blindly.

but the guilty party will know fear.

“stay here,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek for just a fraction of a second, his touch lingering. “rest. recover.”

and then, as he turns, the air thickens, the weight of his presence pressing down like the hush before a storm, like the crackling stillness before lightning splits the sky.

because someone has made a grave mistake.

and if the gods are watching, they would be wise to offer their mercy—because malleus draconia will not.

congrats on making it to the end! if you enjoyed this, likes, comments, follows, and reblogs are always appreciated—they help motivate me to keep creating and sharing!

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 days ago

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book 7 chapter 13 part 2 (book 7 finale!!) thoughts

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 PART 13 OF THE MAIN STORY!!*** This spans part 328 to part 349.

This (finally) conclude book 7!!

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that roughly unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

ALRIGHT FELLAS, LOCK IN.

We open with a scene of the final confrontation against Malleus (like one of Yuu’s dreams/visions).

Everyone is slowly waking up. UHHH it’s not a pretty sight though, Malleus has grown into his full dragon form and crashed through the ceiling. His voice is becoming distorted. (No live 2D sprite, only a blacked out version of his OB form.)

Mob students panic and almost trample themselves to escape. Us first years brace for impact but suddenly…?! CROWLEY saves us?! YEEEEEEAAH DAD CAME BACK WITH THE MILK LET'S GO 🥛

Crowley commands the staff and dorm leadership to help the students get away. Crewel and Trein use ice magic but it’s instantly melted. (Sam tends to their wounds!) Vargas is knocked back trying to protect students with his body. (Kalim flies him to safety!)

The dorm leaders command their vices to lead their students out. Some notable ones: Jade leads, Floyd is in the back chasing them. Jamil takes charge and tells Kalim to guide people on the magic carpet. Because Ignihyde has no dorm leader, Ortho tells some of their students to be the leaders for the others. Ruggie leads Savanaclaw.

UUHHHHHHH the only person that has not woken up is Lilia. He’s still sleeping at dragon!Malleus’s feet. Silver is freaking tf out OTL calling out to Lilia, trying to wake him, but it doesn’t work.

Sebek is terrified and claims he can’t fight Malleus, he is just too powerful! Chevfowrgwiwj ADEUCE KICK HIM AND SEBEK’s SO inSuLTED HE DECIDeS TO JOIN THE FiGHT AGAIN

Malleus is sending thorns after us to “capture the humans”. ASDHHKAHDLA The tone of voice he takes on is scary, it's like we're farm animals that escaped a pen and he's trying to toss us back in there.

We cut to Ignihyde xjsvsjkw IT’/s A PlOT POiNT THAT iDIA iS OUT OF ShApE, he’s struggling to reach the meetup point to collect the sword, shield, and armor to fight Malleus with. Igni mobs A, B, and C run support and provide him with a magical wheel, which Idia happily accepts.

LOL his mom says he looks cool, just like a prince!! (EW WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT MRS. SHROUD... DON'T MAKE ME THINK IDIA IS COOL.)

The vice dorm leaders (minus Jamil) have led the mobs to main street. There, they collide with Idia.

The dorm leaders (excluding Kalim) are staying behind to stave off Malleus. Us first years ignore evacuation orders and come back.

LILIA FINALLY WAKES UP (not sure why he took longer than everyone else; I thought he wouldn't wake at all and Malleus was keeping him asleep as his "most precious" thing to protect???) 😭 but his magic is so weak he cannot even summon a flame. Begins to cut through the briar instead.

The OB boys are close to irl OB and cannot hold off Malleus for much longer. LMAO. Rowley is crying at the amount of physical damage to the school vjsbfiwhfhskdmd

When all hope is about to be lost, HERE COMES THE MOTORCYCLE REVVING SOUNDS— Holding out for a hero moment fr 💀

OH MY GOD THERE IT IS, I WAS RIGHT WITH MY THEROYT

The armor made of mystium changes form depending on the pilot… Silver assumes the Dawn Knight’s armor and Sebek takes on the same armor his grandfather gifted him in Lilia’s dream.

Malleus scoffs at them and says he will melt Sebek’s shield—but Sebek says there’s no way, because this was something made with the strength if both fae and humans!! Malleus feels betrayed learning that even his grandmother stands against him.

Sebek corrects his liege. They are all standing WITH Malleus. Silver agrees. To prevent Malleus from completely losing himself and becoming the “ruler of evil”, they MUST stop him here and now.

Man. This really is mirroring the Dawn Knight and Maleanor battle. (Believe even the dragon sprite used for Malleus is the same form his mother takes.)

Malleus blows away Sebek’s shield and Silver rushes to protect him. DBHLsiflaiyDSLBI THEY'RE REENACTING THE EVETSN OF THE PAST

LILIA GETS IN THE WAY?!?!!!??!

In the moment of surprise, Idia uses technomancy to control Silver’s sword to hit Malleus’s horns.

Malleus post-OB flashback!

Ahhhh, so it begins with the senators blessing him with mighty powers. Then we see some memories of him growing up.

Malleus has a maid doing his hair but he gets hurt by the teeth of the comb or something?? His anger strikes the maid with lightning and he apologizes, but another servant (or was it a senator, I forgot) tells him don't apologize, it was the maid's fault. Maid is escorted out.

Next is Lilia coming to visit Malleus; Malleus is so happy and laughs really loud. This shatters nearby windows and lodges glass in Lilia's ears. Malleus panics, but Lilia reassures him it's fine.

Last memory is of him on his birthday; Malleus sees fireworks outside but isn't allowed to go out. His grandma is away on royal duties, so he has to eat a big dinner by himself. He's so sad he instantly freezes all the food and makes the servants super cold.

His black and white lament allows him to express that he was born with mighty powers, but what he really wanted all this time was to be able to express himself, to be with other people. "I just wanted to get angry. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry." One line I found particularly poignant was this: “At the table where everyone shares their joy and their sadness… There is no seat for me.”

And… he calls his blessing(s) a curse. This is a parallel to Idia, who realized that what he thought was his own curse was actually a blessing that allows him to be “powered up” by blot!!

Screen goes white and Lilia appears before Malleus. UMMMMMM I 'M SCARED, DON'T LIKE THIS FRAMING. IT'S VERY SIMILAR TO IDIA IN BOOK 6 TALKING WITH DEAD!ORTHO AFTER HIS OWN POST-OB FLASHBACK...

"I have to go soon, too."

"Lilia? Where are you going?"

"Don't worry about it. Like you said, 1000 years will pass in the blink of an eye."

Malleus finally wakes up from his OB. Idia stops the Ferrymen from advancing to attacking Malleus with their oars (the same ones they used to neutralize the other OB boys in book 6).

HIS HORN?????? IS IT STAYING LIKE THAT FDOREVER?????? ? ? ???

h U HHHHHHhHhhh

LILIA DIED (like these sick fucking devs played a heart rate monitor FLATLINING) and Silver’s hair going back to blonde is proof his blessing is gone 💦💦

Malleus crying sprite, but at what cost… (Surprisingly is able to cry without summoning a storm??)

Malleus, Silver, and Sebek cry (Idia pulls us away to give them alone time 💦 guess he is socially aware enough to understand this.) Malleus tries to use his magic to revive Lilia.

There’s glowing from Malleus’s broken off horn and Silver’s ring???? Magic comes from a strong wish, so he and Malleus wish for Lilia to return. Malleus states “I love you” to Lilia and that’s what does it.

qbfuvILFIsFIPFw IT'S THE DISNEY POWERE OFR LLOVE SAVES THE DAY TROPE

We skip to a few days later. Mobs are chatting about the extent of Malleus’s magic; Maleficia, Ambrose, and Crowley did a press conference appearance about the catastrophe.

UMMMMM

Ace mentions there is now a Fairy Dream Life Association made up of Malleus fans who sdjlbblsaiadbsi actually preferred the dream worlds to their realities???? (IT GIVES ME KINDA CULT VIBES) We learn that it will take Malleus's horns 100-200 years to grow back and he cannot use his UM or other disaster-level magic during this time.

Dorm leader meeting!!

Idia lets everyone know that S.T.Y.X. created a new classification a few days ago specifically for Malleus. He is now being considered the same as a natural disaster, and they've developed a safety protocol + policy for what to do in the case of Malleus again. Basically, he should be treated LIKE a natural disaster (earthquake, hurricane, tornado, etc.). In other words, don't engage or try to fight, just hunker down and wait it out. This label cannot be erased, appealed, etc.

Okay, WHAT 🤡 I know that we were desperate to stop the spread of Malleus's magic + aiming to limit the damage he does, but apparently there were NO deaths at all, NO damage (beyond NRC, I believe), and only SOME NRC students got injured. That's... all OTL REALLY???? ?? ? ??????? ??NOTHING ELSE??? ? ?? ???? ???? Sounds kinda like bullshit to me, but okay.

Silver and Sebek are currently hospitalized, but they're supposedly recovering well and should return to class soon. (Really???? In only a few days' time??? Magic must really speed up the recovery process.)

Damage to Diasomnia dorm was quickly fixed up with fae magic. Maleficia donated a bunch of rare Briar Valley literature and technology to NRC for free as an apology for the trouble Malleus caused.

aASDIUBADBOIAFFIA WOW apparently Lilia is reenrolling??? He somehow recovered some of his magic. Riddle explains it as being similar to medical cases in which a patient spontaneously recovers for no discernable reason.

IULADFBFIYOAAFAFID Crowley drops the bomb that Malleus is also returning to school, which freaks the other dorm leaders out. Idia reveals it's likely because Crowley wants funding from the International Magical Security Organization (IMSO), which has promised to give money to support whatever area houses Malleus during his rehabilitation period or something. asfihloadbyfasyafsi IMAGINE NOT WANTING MALLEUS SO BAD THE GOVT HAS TO GIVE MONETARY INCENTIVE TO HAVE HIM IN TYOUR VICINITY

Crowley excuses this by saying the teachers agree Malleus should return. After all, as along as you wish to learn, NRC will not turn away a student. He also says that this is important for promoting diversity and enhancing the understanding between humans and fae. adihbabilfaifasi SCROWLEY'S ALSO PLEASED BECASE HE;S BEEN GETITNG A LOT FO GOOD PUBLICITY, NRC IS EEING HAILED AS HEROES.

We cut a few weeks later to Ramshackle, where Yuu and Grim are writing down details about their dream with Mickey. This is the only mention of Mickey in the update; Yuu going home and what Mickey is up to is NOT addressed again. Yuu just says they wonder what he's been up to/they want to see him again.

Sebek and Silver pop in for a visit!! Silver's hair is silver again. Apparently he asked Lilia to bless him a second time. Sebek makes a joke that it would be weird if his name was Silver but his hair was gold; then shouldn't his name be Gold?

Other first years arrive!!

Mmmmm... We get some lore about Sage's Island??? There was a powerful master mage that lived here 2000 years ago. But this mage had an apprentice that had trouble controlling his own magic and brought about a great disaster because of it. Instead of banishing this apprentice, the master mage scolded his student and did his best to teach him everything he could. That is why the schools on Sage's Island try to follow this philosophy of welcoming those that want to learn.

First years speculate that there must have been other incidents in the past where powerful mages got out of hand. They must have been forgiven too, right...? Like the sorcerer's apprentice was.

WAIT A DAMN MINUTE

Silver and Sebek claim it took them 1 week to heal from their injuries. Their magic healthcare must be cracked because that recovery time is INSANE.

Suddenly?????? Invites pop up???? It's from Malleus! He's inviting his peers to a party on May 15th (Silver's birthday), to be held at Castle Wildrose (which has been reclaimed and made into an official neutral zone belonging to no country). A carriage will come and pick them up.

The carriage is pulled by a talking direbeast???? FHABFAIBA HE REFERS TO YOU, GRIM, ACE, AND DEUCE WITH -SAMA!!???!

We arrive at the venue at last, and...

WHOA, UM... MALLEUS NEW FIT??????? 😭 King look?????? Emo lookin' ass/j He looks so much like his mother here, but they don't really explain why he's wearing this??? (Up until this point, I believe he was being studied, tested, and monitored in S.T.Y.X. facilities.)

This looks SO weird, I'm not used to seeing his pale ass chest out...

Malleus asks Silver and Sebek to step forth. OFMMAFOJ;IAFLIUAFIEAF OMG ALH HERVURQ3TVOFEVYFSOIfsihadgouvaegipaf hE'S OFFICIALLLY KNIGHTING THEM??? ?? ? ??? ?

Sebek is henceforth known as the Knight of Lightning. Silver will be the Knight of Dreams.

Silver interrupts and asks if he can donate his armor to NRC and S.T.Y.X., as he feels he couldn't have saved the day without their efforts. This way, they will also have something to use in emergencies. For Silver, he says the title alone is enough.

Malleus agrees and splits up the Dawn Knght armor. He asks Silver what does he want instead?

(Silver's new look, after Malleus strips away the armor.)

They confirm that Silver is now 18 years old. So that means the official ages stated on Twst profiles are the ages they are at the start of the school year??? And they "aged up" as the main story went on?

OH MY GOGSH ADSKHLADBSLISDBAIADBSILBIADS IT'S HAPPENIG YOU GUYS, SIVLER'S ASKING LILIA IF HE CAN POSSIBLY TAKE ON HIS SURNMAE AND FORMALLY BEOCME HIS SON

Lilia says he was wary about it because the name Vanrouge sounds bloody + invokes the color red. It was a name given to him by the queen, he doesn't think it suits Silver. But Silver insists, so he relents. ADFLIYOAFADFYPADFAF MALLEUS OFFICIATING IT TO THE ONLOOKERS

Idbskwnkwwk IS THiS THE OMEDETOU EVA SCENE OTL

Lilia and Malleus hold hands and helps Lilia use Far Cry Cradle?? Which revives the memories of Castle Wildrose... including the fae soliders, the Silver Owls, the guardian fairies... INCLUDING Maleanor and the Dawn Knight who once resided there.

adsbihlffuadyoadfiadf SOH???? ? ??? ? ? ? AND SILVER'S MOM, QUEEN LEAH... She looks so gentle and kind, wah... Pretty lady...

Woooow, those memes about book 7 ending on a dance party twistune/rhythmic aren't just memes anymore OTL Somehow they're able to dance with their dead parents even though I'm SURE this isn't possible, realistically speaking.

Context for Dawn Knight Silver's SSR! Malleus and Lilia playfully change the color of Silver's cape between blue and pink. They look like they're having a lot of fun with it!!

Malleus speaks tenderly to the memory of his mother, even though she cannot respond and is just a phantom of the past. Silver does the same to his parents, thanking them for loving him, protecting him, and "not taking Lilia away." I'm SO glad that we got confirmation that Silver has no ill will toward his blood family, he just doesn't have it in him to hate.

asfhulailafiafd SEBEK CRIES BECAUSE HE LOVES HAPPY ENDINGS OTL MY BOY... YOU CAN SEE HIM CRYING IN DAWN KNIGHT SILVER'S GROOVY TOOAW LH ABHFDOVEFUOVQEFUOUfobaegvaegbiFINPdw jCUTIEPIE

Grim grabs us and says let's dance the night away!!! ... And that's what we end on KJBFIUABUIDABIDSGIPAF tTHE FRAKING DANCE PARTY MEME OTL (No preview for what may come next!)

OKAY, that was a whirlwind of an update 😭 As much as I screamed this entire post, it was mainly from shock and not because I necessarily enjoyed everything presented. I feel like Twst got TOO ambitious and wasn't able to deliver on the follow-through because they set up so much. It definitely feels like there's tons of room to expand because there's still unanswered questions about Yuu going home, Mickey Mouse, Crowley's intentions, Grim's OB (we didn't see him eat a blot stone this update, shockingly), and the upcoming interscholastic magift/spelldrive tournament. What we got this update, considering the length of the book as a whole... It honestly felt TOO short. I know, I know, I've been complaining about the length of book 7--but the problem is that the resolution for all this build-up felt rushed, so it doesn't feel genuinely resolved. I'm sure they'll go more into the fallout and consequences next main story update (again, lots of stuff left to explore), but it's going to hurt knowing this is what we're digesting until then.

Some parts of this update I liked a LOT. Lilia's death, Silver finally taking on the Vanrouge surname, SEBEK SOBBING, and Idia being a badass on a magical wheel!! It was also nice seeing the staff members ADULTING for once (especially Crowley, WOW) and helping out. Same thing as previous update, I loved that each student gets a little time to shine by evacuating students or holding off Malleus.

Other parts... I did not like at ALL. I knew from the start that they weren't going to commit to TRULY killing anyone (otherwise Twst would lose a very marketable character), but it really sucked that Lilia dropped out + died for all of 5 seconds before magically being reenrolled and revived with the Power of Love. Very Disney-esque, but it still sat wrong with me. The party at the end was nice, but it confirmed all the memes about forgiving Malleus with a dance party.

My big issue with this update was how... AFRAID the narrative seemed to be to hold Malleus accountable and to have him make up for what he did. For example, they kept stressing how the damage he did was 'contained', how no one died, how only some NRC students were injured, how the buildings he damaged got patched up easily with magic, etc. What was especially offensive, however, was when they mentioned the history of Sage's Island and how there were other mages who caused disasters like Malleus did; those mages were scolded + forgiven and not exiled, so they should offer the same to him. Okay. But that... that feels like you're trying to say "It's okay that Malleus did this, because OTHER people also did this!" It sounds like you're diverting attention away from Malleus's actions by pointing out that other people did similar things. We're not talking about those other people though. We're talking about MALLEUS DRACONIA, who is responsible for the CURRENT crisis. Don't try to distract us by talking about other people 💦💦

And really, what did Malleus DO to fix things???? I get that he won't be able to use his UM for a long ass time, but what about his relations with the world at large? His grandma is getting on TV to say sorry but why isn't Malleus also doing that??? Why is he throwing a party and ONLY apologizing to NRC when he arguably endangered many more people???? Should he not also be saying sorry to S.T.Y.X., his country, and all other countries????? OTL Like, I don't think he should be thrown in jail or physically harmed as "further" punishment, but I want to know what steps he intends to take to correct what he has done. An apology to everyone is the very least Malleus can do.

I'm also leaving this update confused about how tf Lilia's UM works??? Because previously we knew he could see the memories associated with objects, right??? What object is he calling the memories from, the whole CASTLE???? Is this only possible because Malleus held his hand and boosted his magic or something??? Okay... but then why are both the fae and the humans of the past both there happily (I assume happily because those memories were able to dance with their children without issue)??? Aren't those two separate memories from two different points in time??? Because I cannot imagine a reality in which both parties were in the SAME space, at the SAME time, and NOT at each others' throats. It feels like Twst breaking its own logic and lore just because it would be cute to have this moment between parents and children. And how come we saw Silver's mom Leah but not Malleus's dad Raverne???? Surely Raverne must have bene in Castle Wildrose before, considering that's where his WIFE resides??? And during the rhythmic/twistune I also saw a Silver Owl and a Briar Land soldier dancing together… even though they wouldn’t???? So many questions...

I don't know. I just have so many mixed thoughts on this ending. I always knew in my gut that I would never be completely satisfied with it, because there are limitations with the media involved, expected tropes, an unnecessarily high amount of hype riding on this, etc. Man. What we got in the end was... okay? Okay, but still lacking in certain areas. I just hope a future main story update fills in those gaps.

I guess I don't have anything else to say but... This truly was our Twisted Wonderland 💀

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