#mentions of mal

[malleus-md-draconia]

Okay now that we can see big dragon Malleus, I need to point something out

Malleus has had a little beak smile this whole time. Like look at that little :} smile. It's so cute!

[egophiliac]

starting off with an amuse-bouche of some of my initial favorite bits! y'all, this update was WILD.

[pomegraniter]

advanced late-stage isat posting

[mistermalaprop]

earthspark knockout concept~<3

Earthspark Knockout is just a portable backhoe passenger princess wrecker!! He was freed from captivity and returned to his favorite little racer (Breakdown), how romantic~

[this continues from this post]

idc if people use this design just pls credit me... @ me... i wanna see the good stuff...

oh, right, @decoy-sammy WRECKER KNOCKOUT!!!!!!

[loop-lover-central]

"average suicide rate for saviors is very high" factoid actualy just statistical error. average savior kills themselves 0 times per year. Killing themselves Georg(s), who lives in a loop & dies over 10,000 times, is an outlier adn should not have been counted

based on some really funny tags i saw+some old thing i never posted

[daughterofhecata]

Ich weiß, das wäre nicht gerade geeignet für die eigentliche Zielgruppe, aber ich finde, wenn die Jungs wieder irgendwo einbrechen, sollten sie viel öfter in Schlafzimmern über irgendetwas stolpern, dass sie eigentlich nicht gesehen haben wollten. Muss ja gar nichts ""richtig perverses"" sein, einfach nur so ein paar sehr spezifische Pornos oder lustige Sex Toys oder interessante Outfits oder so.

[poliffwoog]

siffear. thethe scaredfrin. I like him.

[eemamminy-art]

He's not winning father of the year, but he'd be happier winning a grammy anyway

[hanafubukki]

HE WAS SO CUUTTEEE AHHHH 😭😭💞💞💞

THE TWST PANEL WAS ADORABLE AHHHH 🥹🥹💚💚💚

SILLVEERRRR

NAGIIIIII

TODAY IS SO FUN AHHH 🥹🥹💞💞💞💞💚💚💚

[eldragon-x-moved]

Paper type Misére is genuinely my favorite Sadness in In Stars and Time, it always delights me to encounter it, and I was wondering if other people have any favorite Sadnesses.

I piled Sadnesses of the same/similar species together despite varying designs between types because it otherwise wouldn't fit the poll, so please feel free to specify types in the tags! No Mal because it would sweep lol

[the-unconquered-queen]

The cast of Blades of Light and Shadow and their Perfect Match types

Ever since I did my Blades/Elementalists attunement crossover to mark the anniversary of the Blades series, I’ve known I wanted to do something like this to mark the wide release of book three, and I love me some Perfect Match and the types system, so what better way than by incorporating that into a piece?

So the match types you see here are based on what we’ve seen of these characters up to book two, so any character evolution they may undergo in book three is not accounted for. You might also notice that, when deciding each character’s type, I went off of the core four traits instead of the match name or description, unless I needed a tiebreaker.

Finally, MC’s type is pretty subjective, as I’m sure everyone has a different idea of what their MCs are like, so for the sake of this edit set, Raine’s type is based on which traits she displays most in canon.

So, are you swiping right?

[mistermalaprop]

scoooooooooooter from gobots my beloved.............. no one could ever make me hate you.....

since he's voiced by frank welker, i'm sorry chat but he's gonna be an ex-autobot that joins the 'cons to gain the respect he deserves as a mechanic...

my canonically 8ft tall motorbike goober... make them holograms... i'll project all my bad feelings onto you...

[chaotic-fandom-hoarder]

I’m sure somebody else has already went over this, but like. It kinda just clicked for me five minutes ago.

Act 6 spoilers btw!!!

Since Siffrin has a sadness (Mal Du Pays), I kinda started to think about what Loop’s sadness might look like, cause if Sif has one, then Loop must! And so then I was looking at canonical sadnesses and realized that Loop already has one.

Loop’s sadness is Nostalgie, French for “Longing”.

It makes sense too! Nostalgia, taken from the word nostalgie, is a word for wanting something from the past, often referring to a time that you can never get back, and doesn’t that sum up Loop pretty well? Wanting the friends (family) that they used to have, their new complete lack of identity as anything other than “helpful Loop, your guide through the loops” making them know that they can never go back to how they were before that second wish?

And also, alongside the head shape looking similar to Loop, it makes a few things make more sense. For starters, the Nostalgies are always the ones with the star crests. I don’t know what that has to do with them removing the Tears, but also of course the sadnesses from the star person would have the thing with a star motif!

And then the big thing that made it click for me: Bonnie says that the Nostalgies smell sugary.

What’s another thing that we know smells sugary?

Wish Craft.

Wish Craft caused Loop to become a star, Wish Craft dropped them in a timeline to help another Siffrin get the happy wnding Loop couldn’t have, Wish Craft was the thing that caused the time loops to happen in the first place! Of course the manifestation of Loop’s grief would smell like Wish Craft!!!

Side tangent: If I’m remembering correctly, Bonnie never says it smells like burnt sugar, just sugar. I have a theory that Wish Craft alone smells like sugar, but it’s specifically Wish Craft that gives the user Time Craft that smells like burnt sugar. Maybe Time Craft alone just makes a strong burning smell because it’s too powerful to use without killing the user, and maybe the burning sugar smell is because the Time Craft is using the Wish Craft as fuel instead of the energy of the person using it? Idk

[siffrintriotrouble]

other than the trio, are there any other alters?

roles within the system?

co-hosting at all?

(brain dead right now sorry)

First off, don't apologize, you're good! I love asks! They let me talk and can make me consider things I wouldn't have before!

Second: Oh we will see, won't we! As I said, primary focus is currently on Siffrin Loop and MDP, as they are who I would consider to be the three most active alters as of the start of this play, but I don't believe they would be the only ones! Siffrin's behavior in canon seems to align with what would be expected of a host of a system that just. Isn't aware they're a system yet. Then again I treat canon like a guideline more than a hard rule when it comes to AUs anyway, so there is that!

So the focus is on Loop MDP and Siffrin because those are the ones who are most likely to be fronting and/or interacting with each other currently, not because they are the only alters in the system. Focus, admittedly, may shift over time to include any new alters I introduce, at which point I will update the pinned post accordingly.

Co-hosting? I hadn't thought much about that specifically- Siffrin is definitely the one who fronts the most, and who I would consider to be the host. Loop is going to be around a lot and co-fronting semi-frequently, so they're the closest thing the system would have to a co-host.

Roles and various details are as follows:

Siffrin: Host, deals with the day to day stuff. Generally refers to the body as "my body" or "our body" depending on the context. Uses the royal We only if it's for a punchline of a joke.

Loop: Internal helper, generally helps keep track of the things Siffrin fails to (you know when you can ask Loop what you were supposed to be doing while under the Favor Tree? That's where this idea came from for me), generally tries to let Siffrin front when it's calm if they reasonably can, especially around the family (they think something along the lines of "it's not your body, you gave up your chance long ago, and you don't get to steal their family now"). Says "Siffrin's body" or "the body" (never "my body"). Frequently uses the royal We in conversation.

Mal Du Pays: Persecutor (do not confuse persecutor with evil please they are not the same), generally more mistrustful of everyone (in part due to holding more traumatic memories than the other two), does not like talking to the family (or really anyone), generally afraid of being abandoned and how that abandonment could harm the system (uses the logic of "if we push them away it'll hurt us less than if they push us away") (Siffrin and Loop disagree) (MDP continues to use this logic anyway). Always says "the body" or "this body." Does not use the royal We.

Miscellaneous: The family is aware of Siffrin being a system (Odile helped him do some research after the loops ended), though that doesn't mean all of them are very good at figuring out who is fronting.

There's definitely so much more but I am tired and can't remember it all, feel free to ask more questions if you want more specifics. I plan to get a post up tomorrow (it was gonna be today but I got distracted by the ask, oops!)

[turquoisepin]

Post of Hanhua Riji / God Troubles Me S4 EP8. The one in the middle is the turtle monster at Tinge's work place and the other to are Tianji's nephew's, left airpod and right airpod. You can distinguish the two by eye shape, hair style, and the lack of soul

[fbfh]

Curiosity is a Wonderful thing - ch.13 (alt)

wc: 4.9k

genre: political thriller (ish), slow burn, best friends to lovers

pairing: slowburn ben x reader, mal x ben, homoerotic tension between mal and evie

warnings: mentions of back alley cosmetic procedures, questionable needles (for botox not drugs), detailed descriptions of emotional flashbacks, themes of c-ptsd, mentions of emotional abuse and child neglect, falling into old dynamics, the parents are all implied to be narcissistic and emotionally abusive

this chapter has been edited to remove themes of EDs, body dysmorphia, and similar themes. this does not effect the over all plot of the chapter. stay safe babeses, I love you <3

!!LINK TO THE ORIGINAL CH., READ WARNINGS!!

summary: much like king arthur, you meet with a lady in a lake. Mal, Evie, Jay and Carlos get a "fun surprise" that's more of a slap to the face. Mal decides to stress bake. There's a confrontation in the kitchen.

song recs: twisted - aviva, runs in the family - amanda palmer, thick skull - paramore, trigger - hayley williams, mad hatter - melanie martinez

a/n: shout out to my psychiatrist for bumping up my adhd meds!!!! love you kim!!!!!! literally wrote this in one sitting and I could not be happier. also surprised myself w this one a little lol

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl  @sunshineangel-reads @strawberry-cake1 @dustyinkpages @kiara7777 @pain-in-the-ashe

When acquiring a particularly interesting piece of information, especially when it is in one's best interest to keep the source of said information confidential, it isn't uncommon to use the phrase, “a little birdy told me”. Most find this to be nothing more than a twisting turn of phrase, unless that someone would happen to be from Wonderland. Wonderlandians, you see, have quite a way with words - especially those which come from birds. When one has heard a word from birds, that's a sure sign that time is of the essence. It was birds that saved Snow White's life, rushing through the forest to warn the dwarves, as well as many other less popularized accounts of such heroism and quick witted messenging. 

All this is to say, if a little birdy tells you something, it’s in your best interest to believe them. 

The bird before you in this instance, is a rather frantic little chickadee. She swooped down to find you, losing a few feathers in the process. “Miss Liddell! Miss Liddell!” She cries, fluttering over to you, worked up into quite the tizzy. “Oh dear, Miss Liddell-”

She chirps and sputters, trying to gather her scrambled thoughts. 

“What is it?” You ask, brow furrowing as you lean in to listen.

“Oh Miss Liddell, it’s about Ben.”

Those three words caught your attention firmly, like a dodo in the jaws of a bandersnatch. 

“What about Ben?” You ask, voice growing lower and more urgent. 

“She- she’s down at the lake, you must go see her!” 

“See who?” You implore, trying to understand the bits and pieces falling frantically from her beak. 

“There’s just no time! Come quickly!”

You scurry across the school grounds for several minutes before plunging into the forest. You pause, calling up to her. “Ms. Chickadee!”

She flutters back over. 

“What, what? We have to go!”

You remember suddenly that you can get there much more quickly with a rabbit hole. Once you’ve explained this to her, she nods frantically. After a quick slip into Wonderland, you pop right back out on the shore of the enchanted lake. In your haste, you nearly tumble right into the lake.

“Oh- goodness!” You exclaim, scrambling back onto the shore. Your skirt is damp and muddy, as are your hands. But you pay no mind to that, nor the snags now torn into your stockings. Your breath heaves the chilly evening air as clouds roll in, making the skies seem even darker, and you look around frantically. You’re unsure what you’re even looking for, but you trust the brave Chickadee who delivered your message. 

There’s a trilling noise above you, and you look up to find Ms. Chickadee in the flesh - or rather, in the feathers - as she lands on a nearby branch. Her little body heaves as she catches her breath, and she chirps out another trilling note. A moment later, the water of the lake ripples, beginning to rise as a fluid figure emerges.  

Your eyes widen as a Naiad takes shape before you. Her hair is curly at the bottom, and carefully braided and wrapped in little sections, like the graceful rivulets of a waterfall as it cascades down her back and shoulders, blending back into the lake where they meet. 

“Oh…” you begin, intrigued and curious. You crouch down to speak to her so as not to loom over her intimidatingly. Looming intimidation, you feel, is something that should be used sparingly, and not when one is being gifted with help, or valuable information. 

“Hello.”

She looks right back at you with an equal - if not more nervous sort of intrigue. She waves. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” You say, bowing your head and gripping your muddy skirt hem to curtsy as much as you’re able to in your crouched position. “I didn’t know there were any naiads at the Enchanted Lake, or surely our paths would have crossed sooner.”

“There aren’t. Not usually.” She says in a soothing tone as her words flow from her lips. “I’m a bit of a shy duck. I like being somewhere that I won’t be disturbed, where I can keep to myself.”

“Naturally.” You nod, sensing her relax slightly at your understanding. She moves closer, leaning in to speak more freely, lowering her voice into an urgent whisper. 

“Well, I can feel it when somebody uses the lake’s magic.” She begins, the water around her rippling more quickly as she begins to get worked up at what she saw. “When Prince Ben and that- that purple fairy were here… something strange happened.”

The realization strikes you that this naiad could know exactly what happened to Ben, what Mal did to him. You lean closer, as does she, seafoam bubbling up around her edges as she stretches out to you. 

“It felt like- like mind control.” She says in a babbling whisper. “When Prince Ben submerged himself in the lake, it…”

She shakes her head, staring at nowhere in particular at the memory. 

“I’ve never felt anything like it. Not in all my years in the lake. I- there was a moment I feared the lake wouldn’t be able to break it.” She says, voice trembling as her eyes brim with tears. They spill, but she nods her head quickly. 

“But it did.”

The relief that strikes you in that moment is positively unmatched by anything else you think you’ve ever felt. Hope finally seems tangible, a solution, a resolution glowing as a pinprick of light in the distance of this suffocatingly dark tunnel of misfortune Mal has carved your way into. 

“But then… there was something else.”

Just like that, the flame of hope you were so desperately tending to flickers. 

“That purple fairy… she made a wish.” She begins. Dread and relief war within you. “And stranger still-”

She leans in even closer, stretching up to meet you as you stretch down, trying not to fall right into her lake. Cool water mists onto your skin as she speaks in an anxious whisper. 

“It was granted.”

Your stomach sinks like an anchor into the wet, wet mud of an unfamiliar shore. 

“I can’t say what it is she wished for-”

“Naturally.” You nod, agreeing. It is never the right of another to say what someone else wished for. Speculation is one thing, but knowing is another. 

“But…” she hesitates, trying to figure out how to phrase what she’s trying to say. “Her own conflicted heart will be her downfall. It’s very likely that she will break the conditions of her wish all on her own.”

Like the cooling gel of an ‘ello-vera plant after much time spent bathed in moonlight, a tentative sort of relief washes through you, soothing the frayed ends of your nerves. It’s not exactly what you wanted to hear, but like your mother always says, beggars can’t be choosers, and choosers can’t be indecisive. This is a much better piece of information than it could have been, and you nod gratefully as she continues.

“Her wish, despite everything, is only a temporary benefit to her, I suspect. Don’t preoccupy yourself with that over everything else, it cannot possibly last very long at all. When put to the test, she will not be ready to succeed.” She says urgently. “Don’t lose sight of your goal - see the rivers for the ocean.”

Her words seem to sear themselves into your mind and heart. You let out a soft, determined breath. 

“I can’t begin to thank you enough for this,” you say in a low, intent voice. “Please, tell me if there’s anything you should need in return.” You promise, standing up. 

The naiad nods anxiously, and looks around.

“Good luck!” She says quietly before disappearing back into the depths of the lake, leaving only a swirling current and bouncing ripples in her wake. 

Her words echo in your mind as you stand up, not caring one bit for the mud and water on your clothes. See the rivers for the ocean. See the trees for the forest. That’s something you can certainly do. 

A video call from your parents when you’re away at boarding school should be a good thing. A chance to douse the flames of homesickness that have no doubt been burning away within you for as long as you’ve been away. But in truth, it depends on who your parents are, and how you feel toward each other. In Mal’s case, the answer to both is bad. Both literally, and figuratively. This callous truth also applies to Evie, Carlos, and Jay, a knowledge and camaraderie they share as they sit anxiously at their desks in the Remedial Goodness classroom on a Saturday. 

“Now, as you know,” Fairy Godmother begins, addressing the students with a warm, anticipatory smile. “Sunday is family day here at Auradon Prep. And because your parents can’t be here due to- uh,” she sputters, looking for the most gentle way to say locked up on an island, as if the four of them weren’t raised in the prison built from their parents’ sins.

“Distance,” she decides. “We’ve arranged for a special treat.”

Their stomachs collectively sink as a large screen is rolled out in front of the blackboard, twisting with a sickening feeling. Evie’s breathing immediately picks up, and she finds herself fussing with her hair and nails, tugging at her clothes and trying to apply a little more lip gloss without anyone noticing. She drags a finger under her lower lashline, knowing she gets a little mascara fall out around this time of day. 

Carlos places Dude on the ground, his heart breaking for the dog as he nudges him away as gently as he can with his foot until Dude gets the message, scurrying off and watching him sadly. Jay is already shrugging off his tourney hoodie and wiping the smile off his face, waiting with a stoic scowl and crossing his arms defensively in a way that hides the shake in his hands. 

“I don’t see anything… nor do I hear-” 

The sound of her mother’s voice drains all the blood from Mal’s face in a way that no amount of blush could disguise. She rubs at her lips with the back of her hand, taking off the strawberry flavored lip gloss Evie had managed to persuade her to wear that morning. She’d been so excited about it, too. I couldn’t stop thinking about the whole strawberries thing… you’ll have to tell me if this tastes the same! Her brilliant Evie had managed to find strawberry flavored cosmetics, just because Mal couldn’t stop talking about how delicious they were. 

She rubs at her eyes, smudging the light makeup Evie had taught her how to do, feeling a sinking sense of grief as she ruins it. This was the first time she did it by herself - well, the first time Evie only had to hold her hand a little bit - and she makes a mental note to apologize to Evie for ruining their work later. Armed with chapped lips and dark rings smudged around her eyes, she strategically scratches at her scalp, hoping her hair looks damaged and unkempt, just like it always is. Was. Like it should be. 

She doesn’t need to look at her friends to know they’re all feeling exactly the same thing. Evie flips over her papers, hiding the A- grade she’d received yesterday and been beaming about ever since. Carlos guiltily rips off a bit of his breakfast bar and tosses it out of view, wordlessly trying to apologize to Dude for shoving him away so suddenly. 

Jay shoves his beloved Fighting Knights team hoodie that he’s been wearing with love for days onto the cold floor by his feet, silently praying it doesn’t get covered in mud from his cleats. The soft fleece and vibrant team logos woven together with a sense of camaraderie and belonging are replaced with his signature sink or swim, no team in I scowl, the one he picked up by copying his father’s face when he looked at Jay. 

There’s more discoordinant bickering that seems to suck all the goodness out of the room, no matter how remedial it is. Even Fairy Godmother seems tense. Finally, the image of their parents loads more clearly as their end of the video call finishes connecting. 

“Evie, it’s mommy!” Comes the condescending sing-song voice of the Evil Queen. Her under eyes are slightly swollen, Evie notices. She definitely got more back alley botox. And another CC of lip fillers, by the looks of it. She’s going to get a nasty rash from using dirty needles, just like she always does. All in the pursuit of beauty, she would tell Evie while making her daughter cover her itching, inflamed skin with expired psoriasis cream. 

“Oh, look how beautiful,” Evil Queen coos, and Evie plasters on the same smile her mother made her spend two hours a day practicing. “Just like your mother. She gets it all from me.”

Evil Queen turns between the other parents and Fairy Godmother, speaking to no one in particular as she continues.

“You know, they say having a daughter just sucks all the beauty right out of you. I’m sure they do, in most cases,” she says, looking between Maleficent and Fairy Godmother. “But with me, oh, I just sucked all that beauty right back.”

She lets out a stiff laugh, smiling as much as she can with all those frozen, swollen muscles in her face. 

“But, you know what they say, the poison apple doesn’t fall far from the heirloom tree…” 

Evil Queen leans closer, looking in the bottom corner of the screen, clearly looking at herself and paying no mind to anything else. 

The knots in their stomachs get bigger and bigger, harder to sit with as they watch their parents waste away half their sparse video call time jabbing at Fairy Godmother instead of talking to their children. Mal risks a glance at Evie, only seeing the blue hair she’s fussing with as she looks away from the group. Evie didn’t even get a hello. She was just used to prop up a mirror for her mother to obsess over and preen herself in, just like always. 

Fairy Godmother isn’t immune to their nasty ways either, growing increasingly distracted and impatient with their jeers and jabs, totally unaware of the pain on the children's faces behind her. The sky outside dims drastically for a moment as a bank of clouds pass by, blocking out the sun. The world feels dark and cold and small again, suffocating in that moment of chilling darkness. 

“Mal…” 

She tenses at her mother’s saccharine, deceptively sweet sing-song voice. “When can we see you again?” 

Her expression and words are tense, but their true meaning is clear. Have you gotten that damned wand yet? 

“Uh- there’s a coronation in two days,” Mal says in a low voice, trying to sound relaxed, looking at  her mother’s nose instead of trying to look at her eyes. “So probably after that.”

Maleficent hums, but it sounds more like a growl to Mal. 

“Well,” She starts tensely, the disapproval and growing impatience clear, “Let’s see if you can make that sooner.”

Mal flinches at her mother’s tone, looking away from the screen, but Maleficent doesn’t notice. The four parents descend into more arguing, starting to use language that causes Fairy Godmother to shut off the screen abruptly in fear of someone overhearing their profane, cruel words. 

The silence that follows is crushingly heavy, bruising their muscles and straining their spines from the sheer weight of it. 

“...I am so sorry-” 

Fairy Godmother’s words are sincere, which makes them even more difficult to hear. “It’s fine.” Mal says in a quiet voice, not having the energy to be snippy even when cutting her off. “Really.”

“We’re used to it.” Carlos supplies in a hollow voice.

Unable to stand being in this goddamn room any longer, Mal moves to leave. Everyone else quickly follows her, just as desperate to get out, but waiting for her cue. The door slams shut behind them as Mal marches back to their dorms. The air is thick, and their chests feel painfully tight. Invisible hands seem to wrap around their necks, choking them tighter and tighter, pushing harder against their stomachs as more heavy silence envelops them. 

Arriving back in Mal and Evie’s dorm, Evie immediately sits down at her vanity, pulling out her tweezers to obsessively remove facial hair that isn’t there. Carlos curls up on the floor in front of Mal’s bed, and Jay stands in front of the closed door, arms crossed. Mal paces, picking at her chipping polish. Jay’s stomach twists as he builds up the courage to speak. His words are quiet - quiet for him, at least - but they still feel loud. He knows they’d feel loud no matter what.

“So… what’s our next move?”

He feels like he shouldn’t even be asking, but he has to. Someone has to. They all need to know what the fuck they’re supposed to do next. Mal slows her pacing, trembling under the crushing weight of guilt and self blame, the hatred of herself for letting herself start to get comfortable, for even considering leaning into this cushy, sugary, strawberry flavored life. Her shoulders are so tense she almost feels lightheaded. She can feel a headache coming on. 

There’s a fraction of a moment before she answers. She hates this, hates being the one in charge. She hates being the only thing standing between her friends- between Evie and Jay and Carlos, and abject misery. She hates bearing the weight of holding back everything worse they’re trying to avoid. It’s aging her, she thinks. Or it would be if fairies aged like humans. She’s sure she’d have gray hair, aches in her joints, a tremor when she walks. She hates this feeling, and whenever it comes, she knows how Atlas feels, crushing yourself under the weight of the sky to try and stop the people behind you from suffocating faster. 

“We pull our heads out of our asses.” 

She tries to sound sharp, intimidating, but it doesn’t quiet land. She sounds afraid. 

“We wake the hell up, and we do what we fucking came here to do.”

Her words are like the click of prison shackles, tightening on their wrists and ankles as they march toward a seaside cliff of inevitable doom. That’s not the answer that any of them wanted.

It’s later that night, so late that even Carlos has fallen asleep. Mal shakes her head, trying to dispel the unpleasant memories. She grabs her spellbook and sneaks down into the kitchens. She digs around a little, finding a bottle of apple juice, and a bottle of blue ischyros-ade. There’s a sponsored photo of Hercules on the front, with some dumb slogan and black and white Greecian designs. She flips through her spellbook, knowing she should be practicing more than she has been, and finds a simple transportation spell. She sets the drinks down, focusing as she tries to cast the spell, tracing her hands around the bottles. 

“Destination, free of fare, move these- uh, bottles, from here to there.”

The tendrils of smoke that had been building dispel, with the fizzling pop of failed magic. She lets out a frustrated sigh and tries again. 

 “Destination, free of fare, move these bottles from here to there.”

It almost works this time, there’s more smoke and a building feeling of anticipation, but it still fizzles out at the last moment. She’s about to give up and just march back up to her dorm herself, but she hesitates. She thinks about Evie, seeing her in her mind’s eye. Her heart aches, crying to reach out and hold her, to comfort her best friend, to kiss her and tell her she’s the most beautiful thing in the whole world.

“...Destination, free of fare, bring these bottles from here to there.” 

The words flow more freely this time, not feeling as forced. There’s a rush of blood to her head, and when she looks back down… they’re gone. She smirks to herself. Of course the one time she nails a spell is because she’s worried about Evie. 

She starts to close her book, but something falls out. 

An index card in her scratchy writing, detailing a… cookie recipe. Oh god, Ben. She totally forgot about him. She’s been so preoccupied with keeping an eye on Jay and Carlos, and worrying about Evie that she… forgot Ben existed, if she’s being honest. She doesn’t have a choice. She’s going to have to enable her mother to bring on a new age of darkness and evil, and… Ben is going to think he’s in love with her the whole time. 

She thinks that if she were able to feel any worse than she did, she would now. But she’s just… maxed out. She doesn’t have any guilt of self hate or fear left for Ben. But she knows that keeping him under her control is… it’s just a step too far. Mal swallows thickly, then grabs a bag of chocolate chips from the pantry. There’s a recipe on the back for something called s’mores, and another recipe next to that. Trollhouse mini chocolate chip cupcakes. 

She fumbles around the kitchen, clumsily throwing open cabinets and rifling through them, dropping ingredients halfheartedly onto the stainless steel countertops. Her mind is a blur as she mixes them together. She doesn’t notice that she forgot to add the cinnamon, or that a few bits of eggshell ended up in the lumpy batter. She just can’t bring herself to care. 

Waiting for them to finish baking is the worst part. She shoves everything back in the cupboards even though they’re not in the right place, and she takes a towel and gets it wet, squirting a generous amount of dish soap on it. She wipes down the counter as soap bubbles fill the air, the green viscous liquid dripping off the edge of the counter and splatting on the floor. 

The chemical smell of fake apples and soap fill her senses, and she throws the sudsy towel in a basket for towels that need to be laundered. She takes another towel and wipes off the suds, leaving behind a sticky, chemical residue as she throws that one in the hamper too. She’s startled from her dazed attempt at cleaning to keep her hands and mind busy when the little egg timer buzzes. 

She pulls out the mini muffin tray and sets it on the counter, nearly burning herself in the process. The acrid scent of scorched chemical dish soap wafts up and mixes with the sweet, fudgy smell of the cupcakes. She looks through the tray at the unfrosted, gooey chocolate baked goods before her, and picks one of them up. She dumps the rest in the trash and drops the tray by the sink. 

Stretching up to grab a spoon and can of chocolate frosting, she sees a figure standing there where there hadn’t been just the moment before. She nearly jumps out of her fucking skin, seeing you there looking like you clawed your way out of a grave. 

Your striped tights are snagged and torn, you’re smudged with mud and dirt, there’s a twig or something tangled in your hair. Your makeup is smudged too, making you look… almost frightening. Without hesitation, you step forward as the last parts of the tile floor close themselves up behind you. You’re looking at her with a surprising intensity, eyes locked on her like a predator hunting down its prey. She starts to say something, but you don’t care, wasting no time as you ensure she can’t run out the door past you - not that she would, you don’t think. It’s merely a strategic precaution. 

“Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

Your voice is lower than usual, sharper and rougher and serious. You speak quickly and sharply, like your tongue itself is a vorpal blade that you’re all too comfortable wielding. Mal tries to answer, but you cut her off before she can. 

“Because I find it hard to believe that anyone could be so stupidly foolish.” You spit, taking a step forward. 

“I’m sure you’d love to know the outs and ins of what I know, but that is not a pleasure you’ll have the fortune of crossing paths with as of yet.” You say quickly, cutting straight to the point. “If you value the lives and wellbeing of your friends, or more likely, your own self serving preservation, if you don’t crave a miserable lifetime in a dungeon so deep you’ll never hope to see the sun or breath clean air again, if you don’t wish to resign yourself to a life worse than death, worse than even you could imagine…”

You lower your voice further, and when you speak, Mal feels like she’s been stung. 

“You will not breathe a word of what you’ve done. Not to anybody.” 

Mal’s stomach drops. She swallows thickly, trying not to let you see how thrown off by you she is. You haven’t said what you know, which means you probably know nothing. This is just some cheap attempt to shake her down for information because you’re worried about Ben or something. It’s the only thing that makes sense, but it sounds flimsy even to her. 

“Not only is tampering with the free will of others an unforgivable crime,” You continue, even more intense than before. You’re gripping onto your self control with white knuckles, desperately trying not to give into the madness you’re barely restraining. 

A cold sweat breaks out across Mal’s skin. Tampering with free will… you do know. Somehow you know what she did, what she did to Ben. 

“But you’ve chosen for reasons way beyond my understanding or interest to commit the most egregious act of treason I have ever heard tell of.” You say sharply in a low voice, like the information strategically parting from your lips is only and exclusively for you and her. 

“I’m sure you can’t possibly grasp the ramifications of what you’ve done- if you could you would have turned back long before now.” You say, a note of warning in your voice. “But now it is my duty to prevent your infectious actions from metastasizing further than they already have. It breaks my heart that you would damn so many innocent people who have suffered like you have just for-”

A chilling, dry laugh leaves your throat. 

“I don’t know why, really. Nor am I bothered to care. Not when there is this much damage to be controlled.”

You take yet another step closer. Not close enough to touch each other, but uncomfortably so. 

“You are to keep your head down.” You hiss, “You are to cease any and all further attempts to interfere with the crown, or the mess that you’ve created. And above all else, you are to do nothing to raise any suspicion.”

You’re not threatening her, she realizes. You’re warning her. 

“If you intend for even a moment to step a toe out of the parameters which I have given you, I will assure you the consequences will come faster than you could possibly run from them.”

You sound so sure. You’re so quiet and calm, like you’re just… telling her the facts. You’re not trying to scare her with bluster and intimidation tactics - that she could handle. That she’s used to. But this… she’s never seen this from anyone. Realizing how cornered she is, she swallows thickly, looking around and trying to seem nonchalant, desperately looking for any way to deflect your accusations. Your preternaturally in tune perception of the situation. 

“Look, you’re crazy if you-”

“Oh. Of course.”

You cut her off with a raw, honest stare. She sees something deep inside you, an unstable glint you’ve never let this far out. It’s like you’re finally loosening reins on a creature you’ve always had well trained and under your command. 

“Mad as a fucking hatter.” You say in a joltingly light, casual tone. “The best people are.”

Before she can blink, she’s hit with the smell of dirt. The floor below you cracks, crumbling away into nothing. You drop fearlessly down into the dark maw of the earth, keeping your gaze on her the whole time. In the same breath, the floor closes back up without leaving so much as a trace. 

Finally alone again - at least, she thinks so - she grips the counter tightly, hoping the cool metal will soothe her shaking hands. Her heart is pounding, like it’s trying to break out of her chest. Alice is just some person, some random girl who fell down the wrong hole in the ground. You’re her daughter, so you shouldn’t… how the fuck did you do that?! 

There are rumors about Wonderland, of course. Whispers about the depths of madness that hide behind whimsy and eccentricity and nonsense. For the first time, Mal understands what those whispers are really talking about.