#students of green valley high

[cupcake-mage]

The Students of Green Valley High like to go swimming and with the addition of the Ashewelles it only got better, except for Corbin’s accidental “creature from the depths” scares.

This is a sorta sequel comic to a drawing I’m working on rn but I hAD to draw this when I thought of it.

[rel124c41]

BACK TO CHEST (SOUL TO SOUL). jade leech

Saprophytic organisms obtain their nutrients by breaking down dead organic matter.

tags: main character death (permanently tho?), dark magic, family dynamics, survivor guilt, established relationship, malleus’s unrequited crush on reader, & happy halloween

a/n: jade & floyd's mother's name siphon from @mochinomnoms

word count: 12, 802

When Malleus Draconia, prince of Briar Valley, overblotted, you were beheaded. 

Jade has been rolling that sentence in his head for the entire month. He has been trying to make sense of it. Like a student retyping a sentence, he changes it up every so often; when housewarden Malleus Draconia overblotted, you were beheaded; when Malleus Draconia, born January 18th, 202 centimeters tall, green eyes, a hundred or so years old, overblotted, you were beheaded; when Malleus Draconia, nicknamed Tsunotaro, overblotted, you were beheaded; when Malleus Draconia overblotted, Jade had to watch you be beheaded from Diasoma’s dormitory barbican. The facts do not seem real no matter how much he edits them.

Part of him deducts that it might be because beheaded is the wrong word. Beheaded implies decapitation: the head fully cut off from the body. You did not resemble a cleanly-made dullahan. The slashing, void magic Malleus Draconia sent out cut from your frontal bone diagonally down to your occipital bone. 

Jade hopes more fiercely than a child wishing on a star that it felt like a painful flick to your forehead than nothing else. He does not want to entertain the thought you might have been conscious, wondering when your hair caught fire as you suffered through incomprehensible pain. Visible brain matter stuttering with a few painful last thoughts as you were cut apart.

So, with that said, it has not really registered in Jade Leech’s own brain that you are really dead. He can find the words perfectly fine. He cannot find the meaning of that mysterious poetry, no matter how embellished or how nudely plain.

Which is why his brother has to say certain words to him real slowly. Make sure the meaning sticks. Elongating them, sometimes repeating, “Today’s (Name)’s funeral, Jade. You have to get up.” Which comes out as fuuuh-neeer-al, yooo-u, and uuuh-puh. 

Floyd has to repeat ‘get up’ four times because Jade refuses to. As he has been for the last month, he rots in bed. Luckily, Jade has always been an exemplary student so he will still be able to graduate his second year with all his high marks. Thank the Seven for small miracles.

“Cooome on, Jade. Jade, please, get up. Jadeee.”

Roughly, and then softly and sorrily, Floyd tries to shake Jade out of his pretend sleep. His brother has been doing that a lot – sleeping and then, not sleeping, but still laying in bed with his eyes closed. Who knows what is so alluring about the ebon made from flesh-shuttered windows. A week ago, Floyd had a thought that turned his stomach rotten. What if Jade has been sleeping so much so he can pretend he is still under Sea Slug’s spell, before anything happened?

He does not like to think about it. To be frank, he has been hating thinking this entire month. It makes bile poke its tiny fingers on the muscles in his throat, watching his mirror reflection lie somnolent in bed, looking halfway dead. Which is why Floyd shifts back to shaking Jade at a harsher pace – which he will eventually slow down again, feeling regret for being rough. 

“Jaaadiooo, waaake uuup. Jade. Jade Jade Jade!” 

Floyd wonders if he has to get Azul to assist him in picking up Jade. It is not that Jade puts up a struggle when getting dragged out of bed; it is just that his weight feels like dead weight and that makes Floyd queasy. He likes having Azul there. Azul dresses Jade; Floyd brushes Jade’s teeth. They both take turns taking cups of water and rinsing shampoo out of his hair.

However, Azul is not needed because Jade voluntarily opens his eyes a moment later. Dull, rusted gold and olive peers through black eyelashes. Lifeless eyes flicker, registering what the waking world is showing him.

Shoes that are worth a king's ransom crease because Floyd decides to crouch rather than kneel by Jade’s bed. His hair is neatly slicked back, gel fixating his black strand behind his piercing. Dressed in a simple black suit, Floyd gives a shy smile and whispers, “Hey.” Jade notices something that makes him close his eyes.

Floyd did his tie correctly this time.

“Hey, no goin’ back to sleep. Ya gotta get up today, Jade, c’mon. I’ll eat one of your mushrooms if ya get up. You can decide which one, whatever works for me. Hehehe, how does that sound? … Jade, please. Get up.”

“What’s the point?”

“Because you’re gonna be pissed at yourself if ya don’t. Ya gonna hate yourself more if you don’t get up.”

“Not possible.” Jade’s nose wrinkles when Floyd starts to run his fingers through his hair, combing back black hair.

“You have to get up today. If you do, next week, Azul and I’ll leave ya alone.”

“Leave me alone now.”

“Ya have to get up to say goodbye. Come on, (Name) deserves you there. You have to get up for (Name).”

Jade does the only thing that allows Floyd to know his brother is not a corpse - he sheds a tear. Dried-up, pruning corpses cannot shed tears. It comes with a double edged sword of relief and pain; Floyd watches the tear escape from Jade’s left eye, descending down over the bridge of his nose, and onto his pillow. 

Emptied of one of a thousand tears, Jade whispers back, tormented, “I can’t.”

In your absence, Floyd’s verbose brother has turned into a man of little words. As if the action of talking is just as strenuous as getting up. It is unnerving for Floyd who is so used to his brother talking so much. 

Grief shackles a body like an anchor. So used to swimming through life with dexterity, grief has tangled itself upon Jade like cutting, tangling fishing gear or stabbing, soda-can-holding plastic. Each limb is ten times heavier than it has ever been. His tongue is an iron paperweight.

And, Floyd knows. That weight has been crushing him too.

Floyd still looks towards your designated seat in Mostro Lounge by mistake. Waits with a heavy heart to see you sitting there, ordering one of their chocolate-or-caramel themed drinks. Waits for your voice to just suddenly be in his ears talking, asking about basketball practice or new menu items.

But, he has been brave for his brother’s sake. Which is why he requests, touching their foreheads together, “Then, get up for me. Get up for me.”

For the first time in the month, Jade brushes his teeth without help. He cannot manage to do his hair but Floyd gives no complaints, slicking his own hands up with opaque green gel.

Only one month after death, a body fully liquifies. Life deflating, the soft tissue starts to decay. Oval holes in the skin appear with the ease of stretched dough. Flesh’s solidity fails and melts like candle wax. In a month’s time, a cadaver is expected to expose its vulnerable skeleton. 

Against all physical laws, you have not rotted away like an apple attacked by fungi and bacteria. In fact, it would be appropriate to say you look alive. It is inappropriate though because of the downward, diagonal scar across your forehead. Magic keeps your body fresh but your grave-ushering wound remains.

They stitched you back up? Jade wonders which friend of yours had picked the top part of your cranium off the rain-soaked ground. 

Even though Ace and Deuce were the closest to you – both physically, you had thrown them out of the way of that slashing attack and emotionally, you had thrown them out of the way of that slashing attack –he cannot picture them picking it up. Neither Grim; paws are too small. Perhaps, aspiring not-yet-doctor Riddle Rosehearts had the guts in his tiny stature to scoop up the top half of your brain. Holding a hand under like one does with a napkin full of broken eggs, making sure nothing drips onto the floor. Jade grows too sick to think of the hypothetical of who stitches you back up. 

Jade only remembers shaking, cold due to the rain and the sight. A hand reaching up to his breast pocket to grab his magic pen. Then, Floyd grabbing his shoulders to stop him from making the awful mistake of firing a spell at THE Malleus Draconia. Jade forgets the rest.

Apparently, he screamed himself hoarse. Apparently, Floyd got a broken wrist from their tussle. Apparently, Azul knocked him out with a powerful sedative spell. Apparently apparently apparently. 

The following memory goes like this: waking up in bed the next morning, throat sore, thinking about what tea you might generously brew for him to fight off his evident illness. Usually in good health, Jade is a bit surprised that morning to wake up with a flu. Then, his world is torn apart. Then, Azul and Floyd explain to him slowly – they are always talking to him slowly now – why his throat burns. Not from bacteria-made illness, from screaming, from losing you.

Sometimes, just for a span of a few moments, Jade wishes another thing with childish ferocity — prays to a shooting star. 

He wishes he could have stayed in that peaceful dream — “There is no need to shed tears nor are farewells necessary! … A new world in which none shall ever experience the pain of loss!” he had said — that Malleus was bestowing upon them. I wish Malleus had succeeded in his overblot. With a similar vehemence, he wishes Malleus Draconia died. 

There is no graveyard on the northside of Sage’s Island. No one expects to bury a student. So, someone, perhaps Dire Crowley or your trio, has chosen to bury you just a bit off the hiking trails you and Jade use to venture on. A glade chosen by someone to put a coffin smack in the middle of, still on land owned by Night Raven College.

Your dead body rests ahead, laid in a virgin’s coffin. A tree line formed by an expanding corpse of trees marks a clean circle. Him, Floyd, and Azul come upon the funeral last. Right at the start of the column and rows of seats, Jade’s feet suddenly grow roots into the ground, on par with a neem tree which has the strongest taproot system. He is paralyzed by the sight: you, arms resting on your abdomen, laying in a fairytale’s glass coffin.

The casket is elegant beyond elegance. Silica sand dug from Al-Asim’s numerous deposits was smelted for the glass. Inscribed with gold, your name playfully stretches its arms across the coffin, bordering angels and swans kneeling before it. 

Your head rests on a pillow-bouquet. Speckles of white daisy, ivory white carnations, and eggshell white spider mums kiss your hair. The centerpiece flower is Easter lilies, though. Trumpet-shaped, with shooting stars of pollen branching out from the center of them, Easter lilies crowd the bouquet like purple prose in a literary work. They crowd around your resting, stitched head with delicateness. Another bouquet of identical pattern rests too in your hands.  

The fairytale ensemble makes you look like a martyr. 

You are not a martyr. Jade hates the very thought that that could become your legacy. Wrongly transcribed and reprinted, a publisher who does not know you writes you as martyr. It makes his stomach rot. Neither hero or villain, you are not to be idolized. Bread should not be broken in honor of you and wine should not be drunk in honor of you.

You were wonderfully simple, with flaws and strengths. Now, you are gone. 

“Jade, come. There is a spot up at the front for us,” Azul says softly and slowly. 

A gentle hand pushes on Jade’s back — Floyd’s hand. “They’re not goin’ to start without us.”

That’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried that —! Jade, not really thinking well, rips himself away from his brother too fast. 

“Woah,” Floyd shouts like a cowboy whose horse has started acting erratic. His gold and olive-brown eyes flicker with concern. Once more, Floyd goes to put his hand on the back of Jade’s suit, only to feel more like he is touching stone rather than flesh. Hm?

Out of Floyd’s knowledge, students, close friends of yours, have started to turn around, and one of them happens to be Malleus Draconia — who makes direct eye contact with Jade Leech.

I can’t breathe. 

Eyes that shimmer like Sheecle’s green take their poisonous green hands, stealing oxygen from the eel-mer’s body.

Jade finds himself breathless. In his chest, his heart grows in weight tremendously. All of the hurt in his bones is pulled towards his center, acceleration like fire. Heavy as osmium. Heavy as tungsten. He feels like something is crushing him with a sleep paralysis-esque weight. Out of his nose, his last breath slithers away; out of his brain, all his thoughts file out of the building in fire-drill-fashion. Buh-bye, Jade! his thoughts wave as they go. His breath walks out like a scorned lover, never to be heard from again.

I can’t breathe. 

Suddenly, Jade’s motionless chest is grabbed by a wayward arm. His spine collides into a breathing, functioning chest. Over his shoulder, Floyd whispers to his brother, lazy drawl slithering in Jade’s ear:

“Follow along to my breathin’ pattern. Try-a match your breath to mine.”

The words are spoken carelessly, with a lazy drawl, but the intent is vigilant. Seeing his brother needing help, Floyd reacts. He holds him close enough to feel the bones of his ribcage. 

On Jade’s back, he can feel the rise and fall of Floyd’s chest — Floyd elongating his breaths to gather deep oxygen in the very bottom of his lungs. They come in slow, constant waves. An inhale causes his chest to expand. An exhale causes his chest to flatten. Each slow rotation hits Jade’s spine in measured breaths — that I’m supposed to follow along to. Match the tempo of. 

Jade closes his eyes so he can focus upon the rise and fall of Floyd’s living lungs. It proves difficult to hear the sound of breathing over the ringing in his ears, like detecting a single scent in a saturated perfume store. Earth makes itself into a curlicue of sensations. Amongst the raging riptide, Jade tries to grab his brother’s hand. Grab onto it and share the same breath. 

It takes a few moments, a continuous rise and fall. Deeper lungfuls of oxygen push at his spine; heavier exhales stir through his three-piece earring. In. Out. Jade is trying. In. Out. In. Out. 

He breathes in through his nose and out his mouth until he can complete the cycle of in and out with a skip between the steps. When he takes his first complete breath, eyelids fluttering open, he sees only the back of Malleus’s haircut and curling horns that hook up like antlers. As he studies ebony locks cascading into layers, Floyd whispers in his ear, “We don’t gotta go up. I’ll stay back with ya.”

A coward down to the bone, Jade nods his head. Well, not always a coward; he is quite a capable eel-mer. In this particular setting, he finds himself to be as cowardly as the lion in The Wizard of Oz. For this month, he has felt that only the worst traits of his personality have survived the aftermath of a torrential blot-storm. 

He lets Floyd push him down to sit at the last row on the right. Your friends in Savanaclaw and Pomefiore are in the back rows as you are not too close to either. Diasomnia and Heartslabyul are gathered close to the front. The remaining dorms are in the middle. 

Ebony locks styled into a jellyfish cut sit in the second row, left side. If Jade looks straight, he can completely dispel Malleus Draconia from his eyesight. Azul moves up to the front, perhaps to tell Dire Crowley or your friends that everyone in attendance, time to start. Jade is beyond grateful for the hand rubbing circles into his spine, as if the touch keeps his breath circulation working.

There are a few moments of talking. Deuce Spade shuffles a bit closer to hear what Dire Crowley is saying; Azul gestures with his hands and when passed a paper, passes it back in rejection; Grim, who now attends in Heartslabyul, starts to grow louder in volume but so far Jade cannot catch a word. Eventually, it is Riddle Rosehearts who stands up. In his hand, the paper that Azul recently rejected.

Even though it is given an introduction, explaining the contents, Jade would have known it without prelude. Off Riddle’s tongue, your poetry falls like a meteor shower, silver fish-tails stretching with warm tenor. The title and author already given, Riddle reads:

“In a sea of nightmares, I spy a rock

Smooth, with a thousand freckles of fresh rain

The maelstrom brings inky monsters and villains

When I place myself upon your shore, I stop drowning

Across the water, you and I are on a rock, braving the storm.”

You wrote a lot of poetry. You were never good friends with Rook Hunt though; you clashed a lot with Pomefoire, unable to make friends with them. Perhaps because your poetry and beauty is different. Not very often did you string words together amorously, rather the words were desolate. 

Your persona – the cultivated, embellished image of the artist you were – was always sort of tortured and damaged. That worst of you created poetry with the rigorousness of an inventory. This one Jade knows well – you wrote it for him. You were embarrassed about it but brave enough to tell him: “I wrote something. I feel … I feel it describes us.” 

He misses those nocturnally active times in the botanical gardens. Transcendent music playing between the spaces of silence, filling you with his feelings, sharing feelings like they were heat and you too were cold-blooded. Under a gazebo of stars on the edge of the universe, you once said. A pocket of paradise stolen was found in the moments creating and cultivating with him, you once said. It feels like a dream, you once said.

Jade stands up from his seat, not able to withstand hearing another word. This gross, wrong interpretation of your work feels like dirt and maggots grinding his mouth. It is not a poem meant for a funeral. Between Floyd’s knees and a chair, he squeezes himself tight to escape. 

Bystanders expect him to do just that: escape. Floyd anticipates it too. He takes those expectations and breaks them. In a domino effect, row by row, people notice Jade drawing closer. Murmurs start to rouse awake the sleepy, forlorn crowd. 

Undeterred, Jade walks closer and closer. When he briefly passes the second row, he lets his gaze flicker over to his left. Eyes pinched together in small slices, gold and brown irises catch just the briefest glimpse of rotating horns and a sharp nose. The curious quirk of Malleus’s lip has his heart electric with lightning bolts of hate. 

Across the water, across the wave, Jade approaches you on that lone rock. He is going to save you from the grave and help you weather this maelstrom. The divide between you and him in life and death is a thin, easily breakable glass barrier. 

“Jade,” Riddle questions.

Back to him, Jade responds, “You should sit, Riddle. Your words were very courteous but I have a few of my own to say. Can I ask you to forgive my gross impoliteness?”

“No,” Riddle fumbles with his words, “no, no it is quite alright. Go ahead … I’m - I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Your sympathy is much appreciated.”

The crowd watches on with gross intrigue, wondering what your boyfriend could possibly be thinking of or what his next move might be. Is it not obvious from your poetry – he is going to outstretch his shore towards you. He does this through violent action. 

Jade brings up a fist. Jade brings down a fist. 

Though it does not give easily, the glass still breaks in fractures. Triangles and rhombuses branch out from underneath Jade’s fist. Jagged, uneven connect-the-dots shapes make up a circular pattern that splinters from the point of contact. A little less than ten pieces fall into the tomb, landing on your ebony dress and bouquet. 

Steeling himself, Jade turns his attention to your face. Gloss from the glass makes you look angelic, like a shimmer of makeup glitter. Someone has painted your lips in a dark, blood red – (“I can’t stand bright lipstick! It makes you look like a clown. Jade, you’ll catch me dead before you catch me in dark lipstick”) – which boils up Jade’s month long, hidden away anger. 

His second punch causes glass to land on your dress like snow knocked off a branch, heavy with volume. The plummeting glass is also followed by a trickle of blood. Jade pulls back his bleeding hand, hooks it underneath a section of glass, and pulls it up like one might do with rotten floorboards. Glass pierces through the material of his glove, hitting bone. He grabs another part of the coffin, snaps it off like it is a mere graham cracker, and forms a fist with shrapnel of glass embedded in fingers. Fragile glass hovering over your face breaks and showers down like freckles. Steadily, he keeps punching and breaking off glass until none remains.

When he pulls back his right hand, the leather is thoroughly drenched in a red flood. Instead of spraying bloody water in thin sheets, it flows off his fingers like a spilled milkshake. Black and red combined, Jade adds the last color to the Snow White triptych. 

Avenging, he takes the bouquet of white flowers from your hands. The stems crunch in his harsh grip; the flowers sway in their downward descent. He brandishes them down by his thigh like one might hold a sword in the midst of battle. Nitroglycerin sweat bubbles and propane sweat pops on his palm. His black gloved hand catches fire, enveloping the bouquet in a blaze that rises vindictively up to his shoulders.

As the last bits of a fire spell, done without the conductor of his magic pen, start to shimmer away in ash and smoke, Jade lets the incinerated, curled inward, black flowers fall to the ground. He takes his dominant hand and slowly places it upon your cheek.

Soft. You are so soft. I should have taken off my gloves. His bleeding hand infects your skin with a new paint. Jade puts his thumb over your lips where someone has put clown lipstick on you. When your lips part slightly under his ministrations, no breath hits his thumb. 

His precious pearl, breathless. He wishes nothing more for you to open up your eyes and dispel his worries. 

“Jade!” Ah, it seems people are starting to come out of their stupor at the display Jade is presenting. He looks vexatious over his shoulder, briefly catching eye contact with Azul. “What are you possibly doing!” Jade also manages to catch his brother breaking comatose to stand up.

“There is no need to fret about me overblotting. I have a secure lid placed on my emotions. Unlike others.”

Hurt flashes in Azul’s eyes. Jade cannot stomach to check if his insult hurt who he intended it to hurt. Instead, he gingerly lifts you in his arms. Limp, you tumble into his embrace with gravity-obeying limbs. Your neck tilts back and your toes point down in Jade’s careful hold.

“Jade!”

This will prove difficult with both my hands holding them and no magic pen as a conductor. It is the only thought in Jade’s head as his brother shouts his name. Worry rarely crosses his twin’s face with such an intensity; most would judge it as anger. Ah, I am really being so impolite today. Sorry Floyd. The starting sparks of a teleportation spell start to pop around his shoulders and torso like fireflies. 

With a deep breath, Jade disappears in a supernova. 

More or less, Jade Leech has returned to being himself. Verbosely polite and formal; eager to lend a helping, subservient hand; jumping right back into the schedule he has: classes, duties for Azul, Mountain Lovers club activities, etcetera. He is a different picture of the man laying in bed, stricken with your absence; now, he has returned to the man he was in your presence. 

Is it because you two are reunited in presence? That old tale of Hercules and Meg, interlocked souls, finally touching again? Are you reunited? Azul cannot be certain that is true. Nobody has been able to locate your body since that day. 

Behind his glasses, Octavinelle’s housewarden traces the motions of his vice. He cannot see Jade’s expression, only scrutinizing over his back as he pens the order of a customer. It is a week after your uncompleted funeral. Azul’s stomach turns sick, watching Jade work effortlessly in Mostro Lounge, not knowing where Jade keeps your corpse. 

Corpse … All his limbs shudder at the word. It could be hidden under his own bedroom’s floorboards or locked away in Ramshackle with your three ghost companions. You could be anywhere.

Every thought Azul has on the situation makes it feel like salt and ice are colliding in his abdomen in a hissing burn. So, he decides to stop thinking about it. Which is why he is almost grateful when Jade comes up to him, distracting his mind from slipping into darker speculation.

Hand on his heart, Jade says, “Table Fifteen is requesting your presence. They have a question about one of our discontinued menu items – the salmon and lemon-ricotta pasta. I already divulged about the excess supply getting thrown out because of low demand. However, your presence was requested nonetheless.”

“Ah, thank you, Jade,” Azul says. It is just the distraction he needs before he thinks about anything more ghastly. Stock issues and dining will not haunt him with goosebumps and night terrors. He starts towards Table Fifteen.  

“Though … I can return and take care of it, if need be.” 

It is that odious sentence that gives Azul pause. Because that is exactly what the old Jade would offer, using a bit of rough, predatory treatment to de-escalate an issue. Same old Jade Leech, hiding a corpse somewhere on campus … who even knows if your body is on campus. 

“No … No, you are dismissed from the issue. Do whatever you please for the rest of your shift.”

“Very well. If you’ll excuse me.”

I have to go make preparations, Azul thinks as he goes to greet Table Fifteen. I don’t see it as necessary but, Azul glances one last time at Jade as the distance between them grows, Jade’s spine once again all he sees, I should prepare for the event of him overblotting.

Saprophytic organisms obtain their nutrients by breaking down dead organic matter. Fungi, bacteria, and water molds all have an exclusive diet of nature’s cadavers. In the simplest of terms, they eat death to sustain their own life. 

Not all mushrooms are saprotrophs. After all, mycorrhizal and parasitic and endophytic mushrooms have a different diet; it is just that a majority of the mushrooms one finds, one will find them living among them dead. As active decomposers, they refuse to let death be finite. As Jade opens his terrarium, chip-esque mushrooms that mimic the look of a body’s heat signals, he recalls fondly how saprotrophs are the easiest to cultivate. 

He takes out the turkey tail mushrooms, ripping them from their roots. Well, mushrooms have no roots but the image is still true. Turkey tail mushrooms are fascinating – they look so much like thermal heat vision, little branching waves of red, yellow, and white, thus making them look alive. And, they have a history of being used as medicine.

So vigorous with life yet bloated after a meal of death. 

Jade opens the book on his desk in the botanical gardens. People always chastised him for his love of mushrooms. If he had an affection towards flowers or perhaps even pretty yellow weeds, he supposes it would not be as frowned upon. He has always been this way, preferring the ugly duckling over the swan. You were of a similar disposition. 

Around his work station, an incense holder burns wisps of Worm’s Wort – which can dull the odor of anything. He flips through pages at a languid pace. From the window panes, moonlight slithers down a thousand maggots and makes their congealing home on Jade’s desk. Interlocking light lies down to rest as Jade stays awake into the night.

I’m so tired. The thought seeps in like a maggot in the ear of a cadaver. Numerous times, Jade changes his pair of nitrile gloves to rub at his eyes, warding off sleep. Moonlight maggots crawl over his skin.

It is only after his sixteenth failed potion (eighty-first if you count the others he has made in the past six nights after your funeral) with the wrong color, wrong texture, or wrong smell, does Jade’s head start to slip off his neck. On the verge of burning out, eyes blinking close, the desk rushes towards him like ground to a meteor, about to kiss his nose and face with pain, and – you catch him in your hand despite the smoldering sting of touching a meteor.

“You make and pick the strangest beds to fall asleep in. I can’t take my eyes off my Jade for a second, can I?” 

Jade blinks to see you resting next to him, forehead on your forearm which lies on the table. His cheek is warmed by your right hand which acts as a bridge between his flesh and the desk. Even though some of your hair is in the way and the left side of your face is shielded in the cradle of your arm, Jade can see it clear as day. There is no scar threading itself across your forehead. 

You give him a warm smile and Jade, who is a cold-blooded creature, replicates that warmth. The last exhausted fuses of energy left in him lift up his lovestruck lips. “Tired, baby,” you ask him.

“Mmmmh, just a bit. I have been at this for quite some time.”

“We should head back to Octavinelle then. Can’t have you knocking over a potion in your sleep.”

“No, no. Let’s stay here a little longer.” To bask in your presence, Jade needs that to a higher degree than he needs water or air. “Don’t go so soon.”

You are dressed in your school uniform. It has all of your soul’s idiosyncrasy in each article. Not really enrolled in Night Raven College, therefore lacking a uniform, you wear a leather jacket without pockets and a grid pattern collared shirt. The sleeves of your button-up gently pull away from being sandwiched by his cheek and desk. You busy yourself with brushing strands of black hair into its correct placement.

“Okay, okay. We can stay here for a while, but you’re definitely going to have a sore neck and sore shoulders in the morning.”

“Pamper me tomorrow?”

You hum, considering it. By now, most of the mismatched, colored tresses have been tucked gingerly behind his ear. You follow the diamond outline of a single sturgeon scale with your finger as you say, “If the price is right.”

Jade's smile grows stupid at that, showing just a sliver of his teeth. You always did like poking fun at his Octavinelle habits. Allowing himself to melt under your ministrations, he murmurs, “Anything for you.”

“Happy to do business with you then, Mr. Leech.”

You move the nail of your index along diamond scales’ edges, content to do as he says. Stay here a little longer under a gazebo of stars. Sevens, it might have been cheesily poetic what you said in the past, yet Jade agrees in totality with your poesy. The universe has collapsed, burnt away worries and responsibilities, and all that remains of creation is you and him. 

Jade lifts his face so the hand playing with his earring falls over his mouth. With pouting lips, he plants a field of kisses on your palm. Such a warm palm. Your hand smells of raspberries and whipped vanilla from a foam soap you were particularly fond of. Jade can even smell it over the Worm’s Wort. And, Worm’s Wort – that is meant to keep his potion-making a secret – is an overwhelming, astringent scent that blankets other smells with high efficiency. 

Everything, even his nose, narrows down to you. It is not an unpredictable feat. Azul once said your voice drags him out of any task with the ease of a siren working to drown a sailor. Which is why he hears you clearly even as you mumble, “Oh, I have this poem I want to workshop with you.” 

Jade mourns the loss of your hand when you move energized. Leaning back in your stool, both hands fall behind you to grip under the seat. You throw back your head, conjuring all the verses up in your head. When you tilt your eyes to look at Jade, you have this grin on your face that balances on the fence of being sleazy with gross intent or being liberative with genius intent. Like you will either tell him you found a dead animal or you found the cure to cancer. He is all ears for whatever you throw. 

He is only thrown for a bit of a loop as you swing your feet to the side and leap off the stool. Not perturbed over your body but rather an article of clothes. The noose around your neck is a blood-red tie with a stark white pattern of skulls upon it, mimicking the look of cut-out paper snowflakes. Patterned by two distinct rows: skulls connecting forehead to forehead then skulls facing the viewer. It vanishes from his sight as your back faces him. 

Out of your mouth, poetry diffuses in the heavy, wet air of the botanical gardens. 

“Wake up. (your feet carry you out towards the stretch of cobblestone, then playfully, you turn and disappear behind large, flowing leaves and unusual flowers)

Door Death, I knock upon thee (“(name)?” jade springs up, a deep fear swimming through him because you are out of his sight)

I ask the eternal question (when he pushes back the large leaves and peculiar flowers, you are no longer in that same spot; his head moves on a swivel, looking for you)

Has my life all been a dream? (your voice carries on the eastern air)

Has all my life been a dream? (your voice carries on the western air)

The eternal question unanswered (pressure falls over his eyes and heart, where are you!)

Door Death, I knock upon thee (a finger taps his shoulder-blade)

Wake up.”

When Jade turns, your embrace retreating slowly, you are holding out a solitary Easter lily out towards him. The gesture plainly tells him to take it. A white trumpet-shaped mouth yawns at him, five or so tongues of yellow pollen sticking out. It looks so correct in your hold that Jade almost doesn’t want to accept it.

Heart knocking with lingering desperation, he takes the Easter lily in hand all the same. In replacement to his palm, he rests his knuckles to his avalanching chest, careful of the flower in his caress. Before he can comment on the verses, you beat him to the punch. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret; my Jade isn’t stupid.” 

He chuckles at that, eyes squinting with mirth.“Don’t I always say you should set your expectations upon higher platforms when with me?” 

“My expectation towards your stupidity or your intellect?” 

“Oya? I’d prefer the latter.” A teasing eyebrow is raised.  

However, you grow grim like this is a matter of life or death. You twine arms around his neck and ensnare him to lean down to your height. In your eyes, a maelstrom of mental unease rages and causes your hues to appear milky-gray with worry. Under the concern of your bruised eyes, Jade responds, “You think I’m making a rash decision? Or perhaps, one that is not fully educated. I assure you that I have rigorously studied this.”

Your mouth quirks. “I think you are choosing the wrong method.”

“Then, enlighten me please.”

You lean close to him, nose to nose. Unlike the sweetness of raspberries and vanilla, your breath is something foul. Cadaverine and putrescine scent that he can only compare to the smell of his mushrooms at peak rot. Jade cannot focus on the scent because your voice hypnotizes him. 

Slowly, you recite a song like it is poetry. “A dream is a wish your heart makes; when you’re fast asleep; in dreams you will lose your heartaches; whatever you wish for, you keep.”

Whatever dust of happiness is holding Jade’s lips blows away. The frown cuts his features. It takes a great deal for him to respond over the commotion of rain and lightning storming around in his ribcage; he only manages one word, perfumed in hurt and hate. “Him?”

Your next breath smells like mint.  He imagines it would be something lovely to taste in a kiss. “I trust him. He is dear to me.”

Hate and hurt dull Jade’s casual loquacity. “But he hurt you.”

“So have you.” Now only hurt remains on Jade’s tongue. You do not let him refute, listing off, “So has Riddle, so has Leona and Azul, so has Jamil, so has Rook, so has Vil and Idia, so has Sebek, so has everyone that has known me. What is one more scar?”

It is the harsh truth, Jade knows. Magicless and fragile, you have been in the infirmary as often as an alcohol back to the liquor cabinet. Nothing worse than scratches and one broken wrist, nothing like this, Jade wants to desperately argue but your eyes silence him.

“So please,” you continue. “Please, give him a chance … You know, I’m still so sad that I never got to arrange that joint club meeting – Mountain Lovers and Gargoyle Research Studies. I think it would have been a peaceful walk at night, looking out for mushrooms and gargoyles. 

“You two are so alike. It amuses me.” This truth takes its knife and thunders itself into Jade’s gut. Maneuvering with incredible dexterity, truth stabs into the eight tic-tac-toe regions of his abdomen, cutting deep red mouths into pallid flesh that tell him: yes, this is a truth. We love the same person. Jade does not voice this growing pain. 

“I assure you, it is beneficial to have full faith in me. Have I ever made a split -choice decision? Do I not map out everything ahead of time? Besides, failing to my weaknesses in magical areas is not something I’m inclined to do, my dear.”

“Consider it. Anything for me, right?” 

Ah, how villainous you are. To use his own words against him like that is a quality he both adores and loathes. Jade maneuvers the Easter lily so it sits in his hand like a cigarette. A loving hand raises up to one of the arms entwined around his neck, rubbing along the sleeve, as he slyly objects, “Surely you can understand my hesitation. After his -”

“I almost died –” Jade’s heart stops beating, fear is a powerful clog to all his heart’s arteries. You continue softly, “ during Azul’s overblot. What happened –”

“Let’s not talk about it. Just trust me.”

“Jade.”

“(Name).”

“No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream you wish will come true … Please, consider it for my sake.”

“... I will play around with it in my head … No promises that I won’t crush it like it’s a bug.”

The tone of the conversation turns light. “I hope the sound of it buzzing annoys you.”

“How cruel of you.”

“Ah, NRC has really rubbed off on me. I’m just too wicked.” A laugh breaks your lips.

“The worst. Worse than the worst. Vile.” Smiling with a mouthful of glass, shark-like teeth, Jade finally closes the gap between the two of you. The scent of mint too enticing and the sight of you too dopamine-inducing, he has to kiss your lips until you cry or moan. It is in his biological nature. 

The gazebo of stars rebuilds itself. Each cedar wood paneling falls back into perfect placement. Yours and Jade’s lip find all the old familiar spots of pleasure; first just lip fat smooshing together until you both in perfect sync open your mouths to each other. It might be seen as tedious already knowing the moves but Jade thinks it is a testament to how truly made for one another each of you are.

And, of course, he never allows it to get boring. Tongues like magma flowing in combining rivulets, Jade takes to moving his hands down past the curve of your shoulders to the side of your cheeks. He tilts your head in the opposite direction of how he moves his, deepening the kiss. 

You grip the back of teal strands and real pain ignites on his skin. Pain made by your physical grip. Jade follows along to mimic that harshly loving gesture. However, when he rests his fingers to cup the back of your head, he stumbles upon a scar line. A few inches above your nape. It lies like a jagged river cutting apart two pieces of land.

A warning bell blares in Jade’s mind. The sound causes him to break away. It is not buzzing though, like you were predicting. 

Night Raven College’s clock chimes twice, deep in the bowels of dark, interlocking hallways. It knocks on Jade’s skull and pulls him away. When he lifts his head off the desk, blinking at the sight of potions, his shoulders and neck are incredibly sore. 2 A.M. Two chimes after all mean 2 A.M.  The air is so thick with Worm’s Wort that he almost chokes on it. 

He does end up choking. Not on something as flowy as Worm’s Wort smoke. Rather, he chokes on something rather salty and dangerously watery. 

At 2:47 A.M, Jade Leech walks into the Diasomnia dorm.

At 3:08 A.M, Jade Leech walks out of the Diasomnia dorm, a deal made.

Floyd wakes up facing an empty bed. This is not entirely odd; Jade has a scheduled A period while Floyd opts to keep his first period free. With thick fog still lingering in his brain, it does seem a bit odd not to see Jade because for the past month he has remained in bed. But – Jade is doing better. What gives Floyd pauses is the lingering thought: did I hear Jade come in at all last night? 

Floyd is a light sleeper, always has been, so he should have been able to hear him at least enter the dorm last night or exit the dorm this morning. He doesn’t even think he heard a ladybug on the creaking floor; all of Octavinelle was unnaturally still last night like a graveyard. Before he can ponder longer on dead silence, his phone rings. 

What Azul hisses over the phone has Floyd kicking his covers like they have caught fire. “Tell me you know where Jade is. Tell me right now; where is your brother?”

From point A to point B, Floyd and Jade Leech’s dormitory to Mostro Lounge’s VIP Room, the distance is about eight minutes for a normal person. Due to their longer strides, Floyd and Jade can cut this measurement by two minutes while Azul takes the full eight. It takes Floyd three minutes to point B, as while Azul curses his ear and Floyd curses under his breath. 

Floyd knows it bad when dogmatic Azul does not scold him for walking through numerous hallways and his precious Lounge without a pair of socks, and it gets worse when Azul does not scold him for still being in his pajamas – an XL shirt with poetry in a downward pattern saying: “®, 40S & SHORTIES, BAD DECISIONS. GOOD TIMES., WORLDVIEW” with a pair of white striped, blue cotton pants – at nine on a Tuesday morning. Two Azuls speak in unison, one on the telephone receiver and one in front of him, “I think he has sealed it up with magic.”

It is a book. Just as Floyd’s hand had fallen on Mostro Lounge’s  VIP door, he had inquired why Azul Ashengrotto of all people was having such a hard time getting a single book open. A book is easy to open; a book sealed with magic should be easy too, for a mage of Azul’s talents. 

“Well, can’t ya just break it? It can’t be anything stronger than what we learned in Practical Magic?” Floyd disconnects the call as he talks; he does not need two Azuls in his ear. 

“If the charm was something from that course then of course. This is more on par with the third year Conjuration course … or Ancient Curses.”

Though only seventeen, one would think with the maturity etched in Azul’s features that he was nearing twenty-seven instead. He has a hand depressed on his face and his eyes drawn into a sharp squint. Behind the shield of his glasses, a dozen speculations and calculations dance like sparks of lightning. Floyd hates it as much as he is glad to see that incisive prowess.  

“But … it’s just a book about mushrooms.” Which is entirely true. The book that Azul’s stare is burning a hole through has written plainly on it: Chanterelle Dreams, Amanita Nightmares. 

When considering current events, the title causes Floyd’s stomach to turn inside out. However, it is something Floyd has seen Jade read before Malleus’s overblot. It is just a boring book. A boring book that for some reason won’t open.

Azul verbalizes Floyd’s inner doubt, “A book that Jade left behind. A book that is not opening no matter what elementary magic I throw at it.” 

Left in the botanical gardens. Left there overnight when Jade said he was going to be right back after tending to his terrariums. Getting back into hobbies was a sign of healing from trauma, right? Floyd feels like the skin of stomach is not only inside out but being torched by fire.

“I‘ll open it. I’m on the same level as Jade. Can’t be too hard.” Just as Floyd starts walking up to Azul’s desk, he is stopped. 

“No! No … we shouldn’t risk your health if this takes something more to open.”

Vexation falls on Floyd’s face. His teeth displayed and brow crinkled, “Huuuh?” He stomps over to the desk. “It’s Jade magic. It ain’t gonna kill us.”

“No, but it might drain one of us. And,” Azul hesitates. But when Floyd slams his hands down on the VIP desk, determinate coals burn in his sky-blue eyes. He stares down Floyd without a single flinch. “And you run the fastest out of the two of us, so we cannot risk your energy.”

It takes a moment for him to back down. Reading the map of the plan on Azul’s expression, it comes to Floyd’s attention what exactly Azul is hinting at. “Fiiine.” Floyd’s dominant hand still crosses up to rest on his right shoulder. “Doesn’t mean I’ma be happy about it though.”

“Trust me, neither am I.” And he really isn’t. This entire situation leaves a bad taste in his mouth. 

On the ledge of Azul’s desk rests his staff. The octopus’s bulbous head keeps it steady on the surface. Authentic silver shines elegantly under the expensive lighting. Between the nest of curling tentacles, Azul’s gray gemstone sits, ready to be utilized. White gloves wrap around the sleek black handle.

When Azul holds his staff above the book, Floyd interrupts, “Ma called me two nights ago and said – (Floyd sits in his bed, stricken by the sound of his grown, emotionally shielded mother crying. The sound of her sobs feel so artificial in his left ear, like hearing a creature trying to mimic human speech patterns. Something so visceral wrong laced in the vocal cords of it. 

“Mama, Mama, what’s wrong,” Floyd pleads, about one breath away from grabbing a transformation potion and rushing to the Mirror Chamber. 

“Tell – Tell Jade to pick up his phone please – I just! I – auh – Floooyd,” his mother sobs. 

“Mama, he’s in class. He can’t pick up his phone right now. He’s in class. What’s wrong? Ma?”

That seems to soothe something in Narissa Leech. There is a slick sound of her wiping away tears, probably bringing talons under her eyelids and probably bringing her forearm across her nose. After a few tearful breath, she whispers, “He’s not sleepin’?”

“No, he went to his A period class. Mama, what’s wrong?”

“I,” she sniffles, “I had this awful dream. You and Jade were tiny and still sharing your bedrooms. I went to wake up both of you for breakfast but Jade wouldn’t wake up. I kept shaking and shakin’ him. It was like he was in a coma and just wouldn’t get up. He looked like a tiny corpse. 

“I kept calling for you and Dad, but neither of you would come help. My little baby. I kept trying to wake him up. I just tried and tried. Then, I pried his left eye open and ah!” His mother cries once more. “He looked so dead in his sleep!”). – and I haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ ‘bout it,” Floyd finishes.

It is very rare for either of the twins to show their fears. Fear is a delicious seasoning that gets you devoured in the Coral Sea. Though it wears a mask on Floyd’s face, fear is still evident in his voice despite the steadiness of each syllable. Sometimes friends can just measure how much fear the other has, even when it is not shown.

Azul frowns sympathetically. He has only really had his mother and step-father; worrying about a sibling is uncharted territory for Azul. However, if he had friends with a bond as close as a sibling relationship, it might be Floyd and Jade. It just might. 

It probably is not though. Probably.

“Since we were little, your brother has always been capable. Both in his magic and in his wit. Even … even in this instance, I doubt Jade will ever make a decision hazardously.” Which is exactly what worries them; Jade is brilliant, who knows what an odious mixture of intellect and grief could end up making.

Azul touches the octopus’s forehead to the cover of Chanterelle Dreams, Amanita Nightmares. In reaction, the room explodes with the power of a violet tornado.

“Fuck,” Floyd shouts as wind body-checks him like a obese linebacker. 

Azul’s hat flies off his head. His glasses would risk being magnetized into the same wind-polarity if he tilted his face away from the shimmering violet. However, Azul does not wither even once at the tremendously powerful locking spell. The violet that stains his face like grape only hones him into the irrefutable fact that this is Jade’s magic. Despite being on the verge of being knocked over by it, the realization fills Azul with relief. 

Floyd’s violet nails scrap lines into Azul’s desk but Azul does not twitch out of his resolve. Papers lying on his desk go airborne. The housewarden grits his violet teeth so hard that he risks breaking his jaw, his mole stretching down with the shape of his grimace. 

C’mon, c’mon! Slowly, the tentacles on Azul’s staff start to unfurl from their comatose state. His gem stone and the octopus head remain fixed to the handle unlike the squirming appendages. Silver metal moves fluidly and wraps itself around the cover of the book like a starfish. 

Then, with a burst of brighter violet that fades away to nothing, chanterelle dreams and amanita nightmares reveal their faces to the two of them. Well, not to Floyd. Temporarily blind due to the atomic explosion, he is wiping his eyes with his knuckles, blinking away little spots of endless black and blinding white. Which is why for a vital moment, Floyd misses the look of absolute horror that paints Azul’s face.

“Th-This –.” As the tentacles of his magic staff congeal back into their normal state, Azul sets the handle’s end down on the ground. Uncoordinated, it tumbles to the ground just as Azul picks up the book, holding it close to his chest.

“Wha? What’s in it? Shit, this kills,” Floyd hisses, hunched over. A stray tear falls down Floyd’s left eye as he slowly straightens out. “Stupid Jade.”

With each page flip, Azul’s face turns a lighter shade of white. When a hand reaches out to grab the book, Azul slaps it with so much force that Floyd groans in pain. 

“C’mon, let me see,” Floyd whines. It is not a childish whine but more of a warning, he is going to get violent if Azul does not hand over the stupid book now. Floyd grabs the desk and leans over the top, trying to get a glimpse of whatever Azul is hiding. All he sees is paragraphs of text and a block where an image is drawn.

He does not get to know what the image is because Azul slams the book shut and demands with urgency, “Where is your brother, Floyd?”

A dragon’s treasure is guarded and hoarded with a shield-and-sword-heart acting as its knights. Malleus has found his treasure to have become his memories of you. If each recollection was a shiny ruby or bright diamond, Malleus puts them all in an isolated, inaccessible cache. In times where comfort is needed, he returns to roll a precious gem in his talons, moments of just you and him unshared with others playing in his mind. Right now, Malleus rotates a rose quartz.

This particular rose quartz was formed by magma crystallization as all are. The time period it was formed in was before you knew his true identity. 

You two are perched miles above the ground, on one of the eastern turrets of Night Raven College. You curl into your notepad as Malleus takes in the scenery. 

He took you up here by teleportation. You have improved in leaps and bounds from your first time being maneuvered about the earth by a teleportation spell. Unlike your first time, you only gag now rather than puke. After a spell (not performed by his hands) of dizziness, you two took your seats upon the roof. Meters in front of you lies a single gargoyle. Wingspan extended out and the spine facing you. 

He has already explained it to you in great detail, and you listened. Really listened. So used to be stared through, Malleus has recently been finding his ears turn pink at how you look at him. Tonight, he has cut off his presentation earlier than normal. Bashfully empty of words burnt out from your smoldering eyes.

Malleus welcomes the reprieve with gratitude. Chirping crickets and grinding graphite is the only music playing in his ears – though he can sometimes hear the jazz notes of you going no, no, that line does work, no, what’s another word for … no, too pretentious and has to keep himself from chuckling fondly.

Soon, the crickets find themselves without any further accompaniment; you have stopped writing. Curious, Malleus looks away from the stone he has been studying. His neck rolls. Rejuvenated, his pulse pounds in the taut muscles found in his throat at the sight of you. What a sight you truly are, unafraid to be here with him. 

You catch onto his unshakable staring. Tongue in cheek, pencil clenched in hand, you announce “I.” The pencil weeps under your strength. “I think I got it now.”

Malleus raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You tap your pencil on the edge of your notepad anxiously. Then, taking a deep breath, you read your haiku:

“Apathy on stone

My prince, do not reveal tears

Gargoyle, keep your face.”

The look you give him is uneasy. He imagines you are anticipating harsh criticism, writing a poem on a subject matter he is so endowed in. Rather than criticism, the only thing in Malleus’s heart is a quick skipping beat.

You have such a way with words that it leaves his spellbound despite the unequivocal fact that you are very magicless. The words seem so knitted together for his especial heart. His own face of stone. However, knowing you do not know he is a prince, he considers the five-seven-five syllable poem and covers up his growing blush with one inquiry , “tears?”

“Because gargoyles are waterspouts. So, I wanted to layer an emotion to the functionality, the rigid job.” For a moment, you consider the poem in your hand then your mouth moves a mile a second. “Ugh! Truthfully, I wanted to say ‘a prince must never cry’ so it can keep the chain of commands like ‘keep your face’ but then the line would only be six syllables! Ugh, I hate haikus! I can’t write a single good one.” 

You look about ready to crumple up and toss the note away with hatred. It would not be surprising, you do this a lot. Enough to the point where Malleus has a collection of crinkled up poems — “If you want them, you can have them. They fucking stink though,” you had first bemoaned when Malleus first asked to keep your workshopping words. This one though, Malleus wants you to be proud of it.

“I happen to think it is quite beautiful, spellbinding almost.”

The way your eyes shimmer when looking at him leaves Malleus choking on the night air. He continues despite his temperature rising in his gut and nape.

“The first and third lines feel impersonal, but the middle line is soft. It is the gentleness sandwiched and withered away by the stone. Despite the cold exterior, there is a heart in there.”

The way you look at him — all the ways you look at him, but even more so now — has him falling helplessly in love with you. Stars blaze in your eyes like he has opened up the jaws of the universe and plucked your favorite part of the cosmo down for you. He would do so for you. He would do so much for you – divide the ocean down the middle, change the phrase of the moon, or tear the sky in two. Wounded so tightly across your finger that it surely cuts off circulation. You look at him so sweetly, bathed by the night’s glow. Malleus bites his tongue bloody to keep from telling you that you have the prettiest eyes. 

“That’s — That’s actually really a revolutionary way to look at it. I —,” you glance down at your work, “I really didn’t have the optimism to see it that way.”

“You should be more prideful of what you create. Your work too has a heart despite its cold exterior, even at its most tortured.”

“Stooop, I’ll blush.” You raise a hand over your eyes but a sleazy grin is underneath your fingers. You enjoy praise a lot.

“I am just being honest with you, Child of Man. You always asked me to be.” He pauses then asks, “however, may I inquire why use the word prince?”

“I don’t know. Don’t they seem regal to you at times?”

“Hm, there seems to be a resemblance.” 

“They remind me of you a lot. Regal. Ah, not that you’re a prince though … What’s that grin for? Don’t tell me I inflated your ego.”

“Nothing of the sorts, Child of Man.”

“Ah, whatever.” Despite your grumbled tone, you flip to the next notebook page. It is the first one he has seen you save rather than tear up. 

Rain pitters on the building, starting out soft like the languid pop of popcorn in a microwave. No, not on Night Raven College’s roof. Rainfall taps like fingertips on Diasomnia’s dormitory, and Malleus realizes it is time for him to put this rose quartz back in his treasure hoard. When his and Jade’s eyes meet across the room, his breath grows thorn in his lungs. Now is not the time to reflect.

From the towering polygon windows, the icy clouds heavy with rain are just barely visible through the shower sticking to the panes. Worser weather is certain to come like an expected guest. Malleus, tongue heavy, announces, “All that is left now is to retrieve their body.”

Diasomnia’s lounge has been cleared of all its furniture and rugs. Tables teleport away and rugs roll themselves up. Black leather couches and chairs are depressed tightly on the southern wall behind Jade and Malleus, blocking the entrance. Not that they are necessary barricades when the bombay blackwood doors are locked firmly with ancient magic. 

It is set in motion to take place in the lounge’s heart. The nook bordered by two grand staircases and twenty feet below where Diasomnia’s throne resides. Upon the cement ground, illuminated by no light, lies a circle of complex patterns and symbols made of thorns. In the middle of linking sigils, Octavinelle’s vice-housewarden stands with an apathetic, stone face. The same expression he had worn when he and Malleus made their contractual deal. 

He keeps his cards so close to his chest, you once bemoaned on your nightly ventures. Malleus remembers it well; you were reaching tear-out-your-hair hysteria due to cooking a meal for Jade Leech and not receiving a clear glimpse into his opinion. He’s impossible to read!  Your teeth flashed with frustration. 

It is an appropriate analogy. Like an experienced gambler, Jade knows not to leave his hands vulnerable to any ill-intent strikes. At first, he was incredibly suspicious of your kindness until evolution changed your kindness to a craving. With Malleus, Jade hides his cards behind his back and then shields them with an illusion spell to change the faces of the playing cards.

Making this shrewd deal was one of Jade’s finer moments. Like an experienced brain surgeon, he knows where to pull with roughness or push with softness in the intricate webbing of nerve-endings. Using survivor’s guilt as keen forceps and using his own signature spell as hooks, Jade performed a deal Azul would have been praiseful of. 

Which is why he will comply with the terms, because he has already prematurely agreed to them. Green eyes watch him pull black gloves carefully from his hands. He folds them once, pockets them, then unclips his magic pen from his breast pocket. A collision of two stars bursts in bright colors on the surface of Jade’s pen.

From out of thin air, you appear. You fall into Jade’s arm with all the grace of a dead body. Jade catches you in a dancer’s standard dip. Limp, your neck stretches as far as it can while dangling strands of hair point down at the ground like a thousand knives. 

He plants a gentle kiss on your cheek. Mourning and love mix in his heterochromic eyes. Jade takes to silently brushing away the pieces that cover up your forehead’s scar as if to almost say to Malleus who watches Jade lift you bridal style: look at what you did to them, look. 

Malleus’s otherwise imperative stare moves to a window. The rain is starting to get gradually heavier. When Malleus looks back, Jade is kneeled in the middle of the circle of thorns, as was pre-planned. The stone-faced prince of Briar Valley interlocks his gloves underneath the gem’s handle base instead of just holding it in one hand.

“No matter what you see or hear, your focus must never flicker from the Child of Man. A single interruption is a breakage in a dam of irreversible consequence. I ask you to heed these words carefully … Jade.”

“Of course.” Curt and clip, Jade’s confirmation is nothing more than contractual obligation. 

The vines from the head base to gemstone bring to shift. Two interlocked vines rotate in a downward spiral, dancing around one another. 

“Then, let us not waste another second.”

The spindle’s wheel starts to spin. Slowly at first, it moves at a pace where one can keep track of the mismatched sized spokes. Gradually, the spindle picks up pace. Inner spokes start to move in a heartbeat-esque pattern, up and down from long to short to long to short. Bombay blackwood twirls; the natural grain melts together into one smooth surface. It keeps picking up pace, twirling faster and faster. It is now impossible to distinguish where the spokes lie as they all melt into nebulous black. Accumulating to its peak, Malleus’s spindle moves so swiftly that it appears to slow down, moving counterclockwise. 

Wind picks up in Diasomnia as if a tornado is tearing through the stone ribcage. Malleus’s hair flies around him like ebon seaweed caught along a boat’s racing hook. The obsidian markings on his forehead stay relenting to the fierce winds, tight upon his increasingly crinkling brow. Behind his pointed ears, ebon strands whip back and forth with a vengeance. 

Jade’s and your hair move in tandem, blown in the same direction. Despite the discord around, despite when Malleus starts to chant, nothing tears his gaze from you. His eyes are intent on you like a mere blink would cause you to dissolve into seafoam. Despite the lighting hitting the ground, he keeps his stare. 

A breath later, the lounge is plunged into green. 

On the tongue of a stone bridge, Floyd and Azul appear out of thin air. Not entirely out of thin air though; around their shoulders, the shimmer of the transportation mirror into Diasomnia fades over their bodies. Rain smacks them in the face with a grievous scorn. Azul loses his footing temporarily but Floyd catches him by the elbow.

He pushes up his glasses, rain falls so hard and fast that they become more of an obstacle than a helper for sight. Getting drenched by the second, Azul stops with Floyd to watch the show of dancing lightning. “By Sevens, do you really think Draconia is overblotting again?”

Diasomnia staff and students in Mostro Lounge had started checking their phones as Floyd and Azul stepped out from the VIP room. Apparently, there was a storm brewing in the Diasomnia dormitory. Apparently, the main foyer was closed off and the vice-housewarden was evacuating students. Apparently, Malleus Draconia is overblotting a second time. Who knows if the information is reliable. All that is important is Jade was seen days ago, walking on this very stone bridge past midnight.

“I don’t care. I know Sea Slug knows where Jade is.” Floyd’s lips pull into a beastly snarl. “C’mon.” 

A cold sweat breaks on Malleus’s forehead. From the two connecting diamonds imprinted on his forehead, sweat drops. It trails down over his nose to his lips which are harshly breathing air in and out. 

Malleus Draconia has to minutely remind himself how breathing works as the tornado rips through Diasomnia like a savage bear. Pressure stomps on his chest with an iron boot. Through all his wild chase to keep oxygen in his lungs, he recognizes it not as pain but rather a deserved punishment. I’m sorry, Child of Man. It is an unheard sentiment; even if said, it would be torn from his lips and thrown yards away by the wind. 

There are many unheard sentiments chopped by the furious air. Most of them come from Silver, Sebek, and Lilia, behindthe barracked door, drowned out by turbulent winds. Harsh air chops up the syllables like a knife, turning them into incomprehensible poetry. The sentiments matter little until among them a single voice shouts, “JADE!”

Stricken, Jade tears his hell-bent gaze away from you. He does not answer loud enough to be heard over the maelstrom but the sentiment is still sincere. “Floyd?”

“Ignore it! Focus on them!!” Under Malleus’s instructions, Jade fixes the nucleus of his sight back onto you. A resurrection can only be completed with the kiss of true love. Without that passionate embrace, the body will lose the returning soul it momentarily holds. A true love’s kiss seals it back in the body. He waits for the predestined moment where he can connect your lips together with unwavering focus. 

“Just a little longer now, my love.” Jade’s lips pull into a lovestruck grin. “Soon.”

Among the wind, voices converse:

“Pry open the door!”

“We have been trying to!”

“Your hands are not broken or bloodied! You obviously have not!!”

“Malleus, this could kill you! This could kill you both!”

“ Malleus!!”

“Jade, you fuck!”

Azul shouts with all his remaining strength, “Jade, don’t do this!!”

A black star forms silently over Jade’s head. 

All of his life, he has been unapproachable. All of his life, people have found his teeth nightmarish and his eyes ghoulish. All of his life, he has waited for someone like you. You mean the universe to him; driven to the point where he would do something as forbidden as this. Malleus grips his staff tighter and Jade grips you tighter.

The black star is an abomination. Quantum processes work in rotation, lapping over each other like yin-and-yang. Ebony water shimmer in the middle of the black star while the outer ring strangles the air atoms with thorns. Atomic particles split into twos, going smaller than scientists thought possible, with the strength of the semiclassical, gravitational abomination. 

It thumps like a grotesque, wet heart and churns with the sound of visceral tearing. From the black thorns, the atmosphere collapses into blue-gray dust, destroying the atoms in its way. The black star gives a pained groan before it expels what it has taken.

From the inky depths of a black star, wisps of smoke start to seep down like water from overhead greenhouse hoses. The plumes of cloud hiss with head-splitting volume. Slowly, those misty clouds spiral back into a congealing mass. A split tornado swirling back into its original shape. Smoke tightens and arrows down before erupting into a cloud over your face. You swallow it; from your eyes, to your nose, to your ears, to your mouth, you swallow all the mist until there is nothing left in the collapsing air. 

Perhaps you are not swallowing; perhaps it is entering.

Jade watches intent each centimeter square of your face with glassy eyes. He waits until each wisps of vapor diffuses into the very pores of your skin. When the air is clear of the smoke, he brings up his right hand to move hair that has fallen over your features.

Onto the skies of your lips, Jade Leech whispers his heart. “I love you. I cannot live this life without my heart and soul. Come back to me; where you belong, my love, is with me.” Under a gruesome black star, he kisses you. 

It is an unreciprocated kiss. When kissing a corpse, one should never expect to be greeted with tender amorous sensations. This is why Jade does not despair when he feels nothing, suctioning your lifeless lips in two kisses before pecking harshly for the third and final kiss. It is alright – he can have his real kiss soon – because the black star is killing itself. 

Collapsing air closes in a snap. Leftover blue-gray powder hangs in the air like dust particles seen from the sunlight’s rays. Slowly, green light starts to slither away, dimming in quanta measures. All is so tranquil; even the tornado winds bottled in the lounge start to dim away. Then, like your heart is trying to jump from your chest, you start to hyperventilate in Jade’s arms.

“(Na-Name) … (Name),” love washes over Jade’s tongue. You twist violently in his arms, throat and chest pounding up and down with irregular breaths. Like a cornered prey, your eyes are wild with confusion. “It’s okay … I got you. You’re safe … Oh, you’re so beautiful. My love.” 

Neck rolling back, seizure-like eyes go white and you cough out a mushroom-shaped cloud of blue-gray dust. Black blood drips down your left nostril and trails like a tear off your cheek. Exhaustively, your chest continues to punch in and out with air that misses their connection in your lungs by centimeters. If you do not find a way to breathe, you will surely die a second time. 

Not that Jade would let that happen after just getting you back. Jade maneuvers you with ease. He moves your back so it lies on his chest and whispers,  “I know it will be difficult but follow along to my breath. Feel it go in … out … in … out … in … out … there, there … out … in … good, so good.”

Your chest beats wildly like the tempo of a metal song while Jade’s chest beats with the measured drum of rhythm and blues. Ungloved skin rests, fingers spread wide, on your chest. Each groove of each other’s bones are felt. Past the layers of muscle, skin, and clothes, your lungs touch together in a kiss. Jade depresses his chest on your back, bending you into a hunch. His words are almost delirious.

“I love you. I love you so much. I love you, please see it and believe it. I would do anything for you, (Name).”

Slowly, the tempo of your lungs start to dim like the lightning, green lights, and wind do. Jade moves his hand from your chest to your left shoulder. He depresses his lips on your neck, holding onto you painfully tight. 

“ … Right where I want you to be again. Be here with me. Be awake with me. I love you.”

You capture your first real breath as the door to the lounge bursts open.

You turn, eyes wide as saucers. Behind you, Jade’s timid smiling face greets you from your eternal sleep. Another string of black blood drips down your face, this one coming from your right nostril. Your brows creases then flattens out, recognizing the face after a moment of hesitation..

“Jade?”

In response, Jade smiles with all his teeth.

Separate from you two, Malleus lies on the floor. His own heart and lungs beating erratically, panting like a dog on a smoldering summer’s day. Lilia may put his hand on his shoulder to try and vanquish the tidal wave of breathlessness but Malleus shrugs it off. His staff is knocked by his side from the explosion of the black star collapsing. Malleus uses it to push himself up on his knees. 

His heart floods with relief and love at seeing the sight of you breathing in Jade’s arms. Besotted beyond belief, he whispers lovestruck, “Child of Man.” Then, the calm expression melts off his face and reveals panic. Because that is not –!

“Jade!”

Floyd breaks into the room like a storm; shoulder-checks Sebek who is trying to reach Malleus; jumps over the furniture that prove to be useless barracks. “Jade,” he shouts again when he notices his brother has yet to turn away from you. 

Their eyes find each other across the room easily. It is incredibly hard to see in the Coral Sea, biological and environmental factors working double-time together to ensure they stayed in the middle of the food chain. Their shared beacon of gold keeps them tethered together in the sea and on the land. No one else, not even their parents have an eye similar to theirs. That’s my brother is what that single ring of gold means.

Floyd can recognize Jade as such even now at the worst of times. However, a marginal note is stapled onto the thought. That’s my brother and, right now, I’m terrified of him. It is an odious thought. Sevens, Floyd can feel the tap-dancers of bile make their merry way up his throat at this very moment. What keeps them tethered together feels more like a chain than a security line to use.

“Bad decisions, good times,” Jade reads off his t-shirt. “Hm, Floyd?”

How can he speak so calmly with that in his arms? Perhaps, that too is part of why Floyd feels goosebumps on the back of his thighs. A prey or lower predator has signals receptors to recognize danger. A cat shows its fear in a twitching tail; Floyd wonders how he must be showing his own fear. Call it animal insight but a part of Floyd knows deep down, that is not you in his brother’s arms. 

“Ja-Jaido.”

“Florido.”

Do this for me, Jade’s eyes seem to implore. Ah, you asshole, Floyd’s eyes respond. 

He walks forward through a graveyard of thorns. “They probably can’t walk that well. Gotta be winded.” Floyd outstretches his left hand; Jade’s eyes squint in gaiety and your own gape wide in curiosity. The grip Jade has around you is protective.  “C’mon, get up.”

“Thank you, Floyd,” Jade says, placing his hand on his brother’s. 

[jazjelspen]

leaving on wild charted waters [pt.7]

(what if our mc just got tired of Night Raven College and it's inhabitants?)

(mc just-- can't get a break.. can they?..)

(I AM BACKK RAHHHH i'm so sorry with how long this took!! real life has been really weird and troublesome for too long but I'm now back and ready to write some more! hope people are still interested in this series because i'm getting ready to wrap this series up really soon to begin more one shots and another future series. for those that have waited for this long for chapter 7.... THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! literally i'm so thankful you have sticked around THIS long despite my hiatus. since because of you guys, I still want to keep writing more here :) now let's get this going!)

(not proofread, all your house leaders are mentioned!)

(requested tags: @bottomjamilsupremacy @abyssqueen @time-shardz @a-very-bored-mika @obeymediasimp @sarah22447 @cuentademeri @twistedcece @paintingeels)

(if you want to be tagged in future chapters please comment or message me! I will only tag you if you directly ask for it and I will only tag you once unless you asked to be tagged on all future chapters of a particular series.)

five weeks in Royal Sword Academy, during the fifth week all you've been doing is resting from the event that was the ball. your injuries were not an issue since Raps healed them up fast with his magic but he couldn't exactly heal the emotional wounds that reopened again.

everyone in RSA pitied you for the situation that you got stuck into, a magicless human almost crushed by the falling tower that suddenly got covered in thorns. people made up so many rumors, people said that the house leaders of NRC didn't like that you, the former prefect of their school, left in favor of their rival school so in spite they set an attack on RSA. others said you weren't even involved and that it was just their rivalry getting out of hand on Night Raven's part.. and why Night Raven College in particular? that was because few residents from Briar Valley that attend RSA recognized the thorns to be from their home kingdom.. their prince's thorns. either way you just avoided answering questions and no one exactly pushed you for answers, but the rumors went out of hand way too fast, so fast that now the headmaster of RSA had to pause his research to find a way back home for you to then try to ask NRC if any of their students came to their school because of how many RSA students were taking the stories just.. too far.

you had a fairly.. ominous morning. the clouds seemed grayer than usual but you passed it on as the sky just being the sky. you saw the ship that took you from NRC to RSA come back aboard and settle down which made you curious but didn't let it bother you. other small little misfortunes included your food falling on the floor, your favorite morning drink tasting weird or spilling on you, your appearance looking more tired than usual no matter how much you try to cover it, and then your shoes keep getting untied no matter what way you tie them.

but here you are now, as you walked through the school to occupy your time in doing something while classes were going on (p.s you were allowed to go into classes you were interested in with permission) but today you just simply felt like walking to let out some steam. you looked through your new phone gifted to you by the headmaster and read through the frenzy of comments from RSA students about the event, luckily it's been dying down a bit but it's clearly not stopping.

"do you think the house leaders from NRC could've really done it? could they have gotten that angry?"

"I dunno. I just know that those thorns look like the ones from briar valley or from that one dark and green dorm from the school."

"either way it'd be petty for them to send the literal prince or house leader all the way here just for that :b" "dude r u fr y would they send the prince" "it low-key high-key ruined the dance for me and my friends completely tbh" "same :("

you sighed at the comments since you felt a knot of guilt in your stomach. you too felt like the ordeal ruined the dance for you and your friends but the only thing that kept you from descending more was that they still mentioned all the time how fun it was even if the end was a disaster.

speaking of your friends.. only they knew who it was that visited you and why. they kept your secret since they knew how much of a sensitive subject it is for you and they admitted they didn't want to see you be blamed for this even if it wasn't even your fault in the first place.

"Gee.." you blurted out while putting your phone back in your bag after putting it on silent "NRC this.. Night Raven that.. so sick of hearing their nam--"

BOOM!

You bumped into someone!

You stumbled back a bit with how strong the hit was, it was as if this person was running but was also really.. strong?? because of how hard it was.

"I'm so sorry!-- " you apologized while getting back on your feet "i'm really sorry I didn't think anyone was out right now during classes! I--" you blinked a few times to look at the person with a look of embarrassment on your face.

oh it was actually two people, that explains the force.

one had orange hair and the other had dark blue hair, how familiar.

wait--

red heart on the right eye, black spade on the left--

no fucking way.

"prefect! we've found yo--!"

"no."

you turned your heels immediately after interrupting the red head while speeding up your pace. the amount of fucks you have left are way below zero and you weren't ready for this after last week.

"______! wait- we need to talk!-" exclaimed the spade for your attention but of course you didn't give.

"no no no nononono-- not today- not right now-- I can't fucking do this right now." you sped your walking more but you bumped shoulders with someone this time that stunted your walking but didn't make you stumble like the first time. except this person gave you a low lion kind of grumble.

"watch it herbivore!--" this deep and irritated voice snapped at you but it seems like they stopped their sentence too soon.

you two locked eyes and you never felt more dread in one single moment than today.

"______?.." the prince of Sunset Savanna spoke out your name in a gentle kind of tone that seemed absolutely abnormal to you coming from him of all people. his face contorted into one of disbelief yet care.. it weirded you out so much on how he spoke and looked at you as if he missed you to death. a vague look on his face that can only be described as if he was a kicked puppy.

but god.. Ace, Deuce, now Leona?? your speed walking turned into immediate jogging.

your self mumbling was shaky and panicked, all you wanted to do was get away "why why why--" you jogged across the halls while trying not to be too loud to disrupt any classes but you knew that perhaps ongoing classes would be concerned over the several voices in the background calling your name. you were about to open the door to the courtyard until an arrow was shot right above where your hand was jiggling the door handle. you looked back to see your shooter to see two infamous blondes.

"mon cher.. my dear trickster!" the bob cut blonde exclaimed in happiness and joy that you have never seen before in so long from him. as if he literally did not almost shoot your hand with one of those arrows of his.

meanwhile the other blonde with purple tints at the ends of his hair, looked at you with a very sour scowl. "you." you heard the queen of Pomefiore spit the word in your way "Rook, it seems like you missed."

that last line from Vil gave you chills down your spine which caused you to jiggle the knob quicker "this cannot get any fucking worse!!--" you yelled in frustration as you finally were able to open and stumble out the door with Rook and the others you passed by exclaiming or whining(that's just Rook lol) at you to stop.

you ran down the long flight of stairs to the courtyard to escape all these pains in the butt but Lady Luck just seriously wanted to see you fail today since as you were closer to descending you finally felt your left foot feel somewhat lighter. you looked down to finally notice that your darn shoe was missing! you looked up to try and find it but at the very top of the stairs of course the hunter had it right in his hands, flaunting and showing it off to you from the top of the staircase.

"yoohoo!~ trickster! I may have something you need!~" Rook taunted you playfully.

"keep it! I don't need some shoe to get away from all of you!" you spat before you turned to continue on running with only your left sock and right shoe to carry you on.

you could hear Ace and Deuce whine with how many stairs there are but they kept on running down. Leona on the other hand with much more stamina and agility than them despite his daily and constant naps was able to catch up further than the ace and spade ever could. the lion's panting and footsteps were getting closer and closer as you were heading towards your dorm but considering how far it was and how close he was you were starting to feel pessimistic.

but you always had friends in high places.

"_______!! Up here!!" a familiar and this time comforting voice yelled out your name from a high up dorm you were about to run past. Raps quickly let down his long golden hair from his dorm window up high and you couldn't help but to smile like an idiot now knowing what to do. Leona noticed this and tried to quicken his pace but as you neared to the hair of your lifesaver with much more adrenaline than ever before you finally forced your body to leap and jump onto the golden locks of your friend, and just as fast as you intertwined your arms, legs, hands, and fingers into the hair you were now quickly being pulled up to safety with Leona immediately frozen in his spot while looking up at you getting farther and farther away from him.

you looked down at him with a look of pity because of the sorry expression on his face.. but in the end you didn't care. you stopped caring long ago anyway.

as you were taken up you could hear distant voices calling out to you again but you didn't face them and instead hugged your savior.

"Raps!-" you smiled all silly as you were trying to catch your breath and wipe the sweat away from your brows and forehead. "I owe you my life! I really couldn't face them again--"

Raps chuckled lightly as he gently patted your head and took you in his arms, not caring about the sweat and heat coming off of you. "I saw them arrive from the ship this morning and I knew that at some point you'd need me so I prepared for anything." soon enough you backed up to be able to breathe properly and truly savor in the temporary victory for today but despite pulling away Raps gently brushed down your hair to settle down the crazy strands from all that running you had and even wiped some of your sweat with his sleeve. "they chased you like a pack of wolves from up here-- kind of scary to be honest.."

you groaned in annoyance "i KNOW!! it's crazy! as if simply ghosting and leaving the school WASN'T ENOUGH!-- I'm so exhausted of this I can't--do this anymore Raps.." the adrenaline pumped into your heart and ears and you felt your hands started shaking whilst you raised your voice in exhaustion. the way your eyes scattered and looked up and down, right and left-- just simply the way you were anxious made Raps concerned.

your friend immediately grabbed you by your shoulders to get you back together, gently shaking you "_______!.." and when you still seemed not all there yet he then went to hold your face this time "______!!" he exclaimed as he then finally was able to catch your attention "maybe you need to rest for awhile.."

you nodded but gave him a vague and questionable look "aren't you supposed to be in class?"

Raps rolled his eyes playfully "i am in class, my dad is also my teacher remember. in a way this is my study hall time."

you laughed a bit "right.. damn.. I really do need to sleep."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

the rest of the day was sort of hectic.. of course you took your nap while leaning on Raps while he studied after that heck of a chase. now after him helping you go back to your dorm to get another pair of shoes you're here walking with Raps to his next class, outside of the safety of the dorms, but you knew that when Neige, Alex, and Rielle would find the two of you then you'd have nothing to fear.

you looked from side to side cautiously with your anxiety rising up with the pace of your eyes going back and forth.

"you'll be fine _____..." mumbled the golden blonde "I'm right here with you remember, if they decide to speak to you I promise I'll do the speaking for you." he gave you his charming smile which made you feel a bit of relief.

"thanks raps.. but it's not just them speaking to me that frightens me.." you whispered as you hid close to him. you felt more anxious the longer you felt several pairs of eyes staring at you here and there.

"well let's just think on the positive. from here on out until they leave you'll stay with us from the beginning of the morning till the end of the day, so they won't be shouting your name every few seconds." Raps suggested but you simply laughed back.

"as if i'm not already stuck to the hip to all four of you everyday of almost every hour."

both of you laughed together at your comment, feeling a heavy weight lift off your shoulders a bit at the joking and the reliability of your friend.

you both calmed down and ended the small giggling frenzy with a sigh before you started to speak "let's just hope I don't get to see any of them too much today, I wouldn't want to throw up whatever I ate last time for when I see them.."

in the next few moments your friend Rielle finally approached you guys! great timing Rielle!

"hey guys!" he chirped "how have your days been! good I hope?" Rielle started small talk with you two in order to cheer up the atmosphere.. since the talk about NRC students on RSA campus grounds have been swirling around and making the group feel uneasy.. but you didn't really know that yet.

after discussing about eachotehrs days, explaining your chase and everything in between. Rielle gave you this look, it seemed almost pitiful and kind of as if he needed to tell you something. you gave him a confused look with an awkward smile. "what's up Rielle? never seen you look this nervous before.." your friend seemed a bit caught off guard and returned the awkward smile back to you.

"ah!- well.. shrimpy.. I almost don't want to tell you because it makes me feel a little.. upset." he shrugged with the emotion in his eye of wanting to hold back. "the words may get a bit stuck in my throat but. well--"

you looked at him in immediate interest, the thoughts in your head wondering what he needs to say.. and why it's taking so long..

"the headmaster needs to see you. he said he's made an immense break through in the search of finding a way back home for you. that maybe-- you'll finally be able to go back where you came from." the red head seemed to get more upset the more he went on, the exact opposite of your reaction.

you smiled, you were excited-- you were finally going home! back to what you truly know and love!

but what about your friends?..what about your new friends? what's gonna happen to them? you've all gotten so close in the past five weeks together. is this really the time to leave back home now?

you looked at both Raps and Rielle with this look on your face that only said one thing: I need to talk to the headmaster. they both gave you a tiny smile that seemed to try to mask the glum feeling they both had in this situation that is now unfolding before them. and before you could think your legs started running and your heart again was beating out of your chest. not because you were being chased or yelled at but because for once you felt a sense of true and honest optimism about your situation.. after months of being trapped in this world. every sharp turn, every step, every shoulder bump, every gentle shove and half-hearted apologies made your heart feel alive and more excited than ever about this. you could almost smell the air of your home, see the colors of your room, touch and feel the fabrics, rough, soft, rigid edges of every corner inside your house.

and while your friends watched you run, Rielle could feel a drop of water down his face. he touched it and saw it was coming down from his eye.. weird. he pressed the water in between his thumb and index finger. ahh now he remembers-- he's heard of something like this, a human function in which the body is able to produce water from the eyes when one is feeling intense emotion.. but he felt so distraught, as if he was grieving yet no one has left him yet.

'is this what they call a tear?'

---------------------------------------------------------------------

after reaching the top of the final flight of stairs you stared down at the headmaster's office doors. the smile on your face widened as you turned both knobs and pushed your body against the doors.

"headmaster Ambrose!! you said you wanted to se--'

oh dear mc, I'm so sorry.

you looked around the entire room and every one of the house leaders in Night Raven College are present there, statures tall, intimidating, sour, fond, confused. along with their reliable vice dorm leaders by their side.

Riddle Rosehearts gave you a glum and pitiful look yet that lasted for a second before he tried to seem stern and serious while looking away with his vice dorm leader, Trey, bedside him.

Leona Kingscholar, back again, also pretended to be serious and uninterested about this situation but you could tell he was trying to catch a small peak of you with his vice dorm leader, Ruggie, beside him watching.

Azul Ashengrotto has a kind of look on his face that clearly held a grudge but every single time he stole a gaze at you it's as if his eyes softened ever so slightly, even his vice dorm leader, Jade, easily caught this.

Kalim Al-Asim was more than happy to see you, he obviously tried to keep himself from speaking but his appreciation for you seemed to have never faltered for a second. His vice dorm leader, Jamil, stood behind him as he usually does.

Vil Schoenheiht was the one with the biggest scowl and petty look on his face. not daring to even peek at you but it was obvious that despite him being an actor that it was easy to see through this act of him hating you and wanted to never see you again. His vice dorm leader, Rook, simply complimented you from afar and also seemed to be awing you from across the room.

Idia Shroud was present.. what a shock-- this has never happened usually unless you were involved but he seemed to hide his face away with his hood and pretended to be occupied in a video game when in reality he couldn't even focus on the game he tried to use as a distraction from you. His vice dorm leader/brother, Ortho Shroud, just gave you a happy smile, also quietly very happy to see your face.

Then theres.. Malleus Draconia, you've seen him just a week ago and he also looked down shamefully. as if he couldn't bear to see your face in fear of disappointment and hate. despite this his vice dorm leader, Lilia gave you a small smile but tried to focus on Malleus and the meeting at hand.

"______ my dear! so long no see! thank you so much for getting here to talk to us!" headmaster Crowley cheered as he welcomed you in the office along with headmaster Ambrose by his side. "you see the headmaster to Royal Sword Academy wanted to talk to me about a few unrelated things. internet frenzies and such! but then we got distracted and talked more about you."

you stared at Crowley intensely, afraid of looking towards the other house leaders you used to be almost fond of a bit back then, but of course you put yourself over whatever fondness you had.

"he talked about his research in finding you a way back home, and luckily for you Night Raven College's house leaders wanted to present to him and yourself as well a way they found you to go back home!"

You stared at Crowley after he finished his sentence, there was a long pause, maybe an awkward cough in-between. "so you're saying.." you could feel the words get caught in your throat "that everyone here.. the house leaders.. found ways to get me home?.."

Crowley hummed in slight thought "Not exactly my dear, they all worked together to find you one straight path back to your home! turns out all they missed was just the research that headmaster Ambrose has right here!" he let out one of his signature chuckles "even from afar you still managed to be NRC's prefect! making the housleaders work together for a way back home for you! now that's magic."

your mouth was slightly agape as you slowly looked at everyone in disbelief. "you really did that for me?.. despite everything you all did to me when I was still there and everything I did to get away?.." everyone either looked down or straight ahead to avoid your gaze or even nodded gently. no words were spoken or needed at the moment.

you took a moment to breathe and let the gravity of the situation sink into your skin. an inhale and exhale later you finally let yourself say your next few words,

"how do I get back home?"

(CHAPTER 7 IS OUT!!! thank you so much for being patient and waiting for me to finally be able to post this chapter! I hope it came out alright to better! I had fun with this chapter especially since I'm now planning the seeds to the end of this series, thank you for the love and I hope you enjoyed this!)

[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : Diasomnia

Gender Neutral Reader x Diasomnia vs. Prince Stefan Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. Diasomnia Version

ie. Wherein Malleus invites you along to Briar Valley's Festival of Roses and Sebek drives you to near insanity. Thankfully (?) getting lost in the chaos means you meet another wayward soul.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

“I don’t think Sebek likes me very much,” you sighed.

“Oh?” Malleus blinked, clearly a bit thrown by the sudden accusation. “What would make you think that?”

Your glare swiveled pointedly to a sharp bolt of green just barely poking out from behind one of the many dilapidated pillars. Sebek’s yellow eyes slowly rose up with the rest of him, and the half-fae glowered at you like a pissy tomcat.

Malleus’s brilliant, neon, gaze slowly tracked yours, and when it met with his Knight’s startled gaping, his brow furrowed in annoyance. His irritated scowl was always a bit hard to read. Was he being pouty? Murderous? Both? Hell if you knew.

“I see,” he sighed after a moment, long suffering.

You just hummed in grumpy agreement as Sebek tried to duck back down behind the debris.

You and Malleus had clicked from the get-go. Perhaps it was because he’d never really had a friend before, and you were far too stupid and naïve about the rules of this new world to understand anything about the implications behind that. The Fae Prince was easy company—he was smart, with a dry, oblivious sort of humor that could leave you in stitches. His ensuing confusion about why you were laughing was always a surefire way to get you laughing harder. You enjoyed his company immensely, and you liked to think that he enjoyed yours enough in turn that perhaps your fleeting humanity had left at least a teensy impression on his near-immortal soul. Or, you know, whatever. At the very least, you were a semi willing student for his nightly architecture lectures, and you knew that at least put you in better standing than, say, Leona.

So when you received a personal summons to the Briar Valley’s Festival of Roses—hand delivered by the Crown Prince himself—you were over the moon.

“You seemed interested in our customs,” Malleus had explained. “And seeing as I invaded your home over the Halloween festivities, it only seems right that this time I extend you the invitation into mine.”

You agreed enthusiastically, because hell-fucking-yes you wanted to see all the mystical, magical, mumbo-jumbo that this world had to offer. Sure, you were trapped here for an indefinite amount of time, but you would be damned if you let the only cool part of any of that miserable uncertainty go to waste.

“Is there anything I should know?” you asked, fighting the urge to bop around the carriage like a toddler on a sugar high. Because that’s how you were travelling. In an honest-to-goodness horse drawn carriage. (Or, well, magic drawn or something.) “So that I don’t embarrass any of you or anything, I mean.”

Lilia was smirking over at you with a kind of fond amusement that you assumed meant he’d picked up on your rabid excitement from a mile away. Your vibrating was probably shaking his seat. Occasionally his wine-red irises would flick to Malleus, and that smirk would curl into something sharper, something mischievous.

“Humans aren’t too common to see,” Malleus said, with the same, odd sort of tension about him that had rocketed through his too-tall frame the moment you’d climbed into the seat beside him. “But they are not entirely unfamiliar either. You should be treated fairly.”

Your horned friend had been strangely silent throughout most of this journey. The weirdest part was that he seemed absolutely determined to stare out the window—head turned at a sharp angle, his hands clasped neatly in his lap and shoulders pulled so stiff and straight that he could have been one of the gargoyles that he so loved. And for someone who usually made far too much eye contact, the lack of acknowledgement was a bit unnerving.

“You’ll be more than fine as you are,” Lilia translated, the points of his fangs peeking out from behind his grin. “And I can promise you that any guest of Malleus’s will be welcomed with open arms.”

Malleus continued his resolute stare down with the glass and Lilia snickered into his palm. Sebek made a strangled noise from his seat across from you. He hadn’t been particularly vocal thus far about his disapproval of your inclusion (you doubted Sebek had it in him to openly question any decision of Malleus’s), but the look of complete and utter dismay twisting his face was telling enough.

You leaned in and prodded Malleus gently in the side.

“I won’t be, like, executed or something if someone hears me call you ‘Tsunotarou,’ will I?”

Sebek squawked and there was a sudden strike of lightning just outside the carriage window that rattled the entire coach with an echoing boom.

“No,” Malleus said emphatically, his lime-green glower zeroing in on you for the first time since this entire venture began. “No one will touch you, no matter what indiscretions they may think to assume you guilty of.”

“But, young master!—” Sebek started to argue. “The impropriety of—” he spluttered. “To even think thatyou could be addressed as—as that is—"

“No,” Malleus repeated, nearly a growl, and another bolt of bright static lit the window. The electricity seemed to linger in the air long after the flash had faded, like a little, rippling, current running the edge of its teeth along your skin. “And this will be the last it is discussed.”

The terrible, quiet, tension that followed was broken by a snuffling snore as Silver shifted, his head flopping from where it’d been pressed against the wooden paneling to instead land with a heavy thwump against Lilia’s shoulder.

“How… How did he sleep through all that?” you asked in awe.

Lilia sighed, affectionate, and reached out to ruffle a clawed hand through Silver’s hair. “He’s so special~”

.

.

You knew that Malleus was royalty and blablabla, but you hadn’t really anticipated all the things that came with that. The castle? Yes. Totally made sense. The entire entourage of servants that appeared to whisk away your bags? Also rational. Sorta cool, and definitely made you feel a bit too much like a celebrity, even if you understood the need for such protocol.

Malleus also immediately being whisked away?

Now that… That you hadn’t really considered.

“I’ll meet back with you as soon as I can,” he promised. Lilia and Silver had already vanished down a separate winding hallway, and the prospect of being left all alone in this gargantuan foyer was just short of terrifying. “There are some final preparations for the Festival that I am required to oversee personally.” And then there was another moment where Malleus resolutely refused to meet your gaze, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say it was almost like he was being coy. But it passed quickly enough and instead he cast a pointed glare towards his subordinate. “Sebek can show you around in the meantime. He’s a more than capable guard.”

You looked at Sebek and Sebek looked at you.

Uh-oh.

“How long will that take?” you asked, hoping it didn’t sound as whiny as it felt. But, like, come on. This was basically the human equivalent of your friend inviting you to come visit for the holidays and then immediately dumping you with their weird aunt and the dog that never really learned not to pee on the carpet.

“Only until the evening,” he assured, like it wasn’t just barely past ten in the morning—like eight-plus whole ass hours was really no time at all. And to be fair, for him it probably really wasn’t. But for you and your very mortal panic, it immediately felt like you were facing down eternity. You didn’t know what your face was doing, but whatever it was, it made Malleus’s brow scrunch up in concern. “Will that be alright?”

“Of course,” you lied, like a good guest. “You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do.”

He smiled that small, slanted, smile of his that always looked just a touch too sharp at the corners. And then he was gone, and it was just you and Sebek.

“So,” you tried. “Do you know what any of that was about?”

“LORD MALLEUS’S PRINCELY RESPONSIBILITIES ARE NONE OF YOUR CONCERN, HUMAN!” Sebek barked, crossing his arms sternly across his chest. “IF THE YOUNG MASTER DID NOT SEE FIT TO INFORM YOU, THEN I SEE NO REASON WHY I SHOULD EITHER!”

You groaned and valiantly fought the urge to drop your head into your hands.

.

.

“Don’t touch that, human!”

“How dare you—you’re going to embarrass the young master!”

“Human! Don’t you dare!”

“Human!”

“HUMAN!��

You were going insane. You couldn’t blink without Sebek snarling at you about impropriety, and the fact that your very presence in this castle was a failing of tradition itself. You tried to ask about the Festival and were immediately shut down. You inquired politely if there was anything you could do to help, only to be told firmly that silly little humans weren’t good for anything and to keep your nose out of it. You asked to use the bathroom and your stupid, mortal, bladder was cursed within an inch of its life.

“It would have been easier not to bring you at all,” Sebek grumbled for the thousandth time as he grouchily led you through rows of decorative stalls.

“I am aware,” you grit out, grinding your molars.

“I still can’t understand it,” he rambled. “No matter how many times Master Lilia explains it to me, you—this—it defies all logic!”

“Friendship isn’t always logical,” you bit back, firm. Because that is what you were, right? Friends? And then, because you were angry and wanted to hit him where it hurt— “You know, if Malleus is so willing to sully himself by keeping someone as lowly and stupid as me as his friend, maybe that’s a sign that the other company he’s forced to keep is less than ideal.”

Sebek puffed up like a rooster in a cock fight and turned on you with a snarl.

“How dare you presume to call yourself the Young Master’s friend!” The corners of his lips curled down over jagged canines. “At best you’re a pet—something that’ll long outlast its welcome before you eventually wither away and die.”

Annnnd you had officially reached your allocated tolerance of Anti-Human-Bullshit for the day.

So when Sebek was caught up in another one of his longwinded tirades, you slipped into the gap between two of the Festival stalls and out the other side. The silence was immediate and like a balm against your sore hide.

There was something about Sebek that made you think he didn’t really mean all those things he spouted. Occasionally there was a kind of disquiet in his yellow gaze, especially when he ranted angrily about the shortcomings of his very human father. The green-haired fae was far from subtle, and you had a feeling that all his huffing and puffing was probably to hide something… else. Something more uncertain and small that he downright refused to address. Because humans were weak, and short-lived, and chaotic. And he would have to face that sooner or later. With Silver. With his own parent. And hating that humanity was no doubt easier than loving and losing it.

That being said, his prickly behavior still made you want to punt his head like a spiky, green, football. So.

You wandered around aimlessly through the intricate maze of market stalls and booths. Despite the perpetually grey cloud cover, everyone here was so cheerful. And Lilia was right—no one seemed to give two shits about your very human eyes, and face, and stature. It was really nice. You spent so long strolling through the rows that you barely even noticed when the sky began to darken and the crowds thinned as you approached the outskirts. There was an ominous roll of thunder in the distance, but you didn’t think too much of it. The clouds looked ready to open up any second. It was probably just a bit of rain.   

There was a little, makeshift, dirt pit at the edge of the stalls, and you observed it curiously. It was ringed with colorful, triangular, flags, and the inner crater was lined with archery targets and wooden sparring dummies. It reminded you a bit of those competition fields in Renaissance Fairs.

However, so enraptured by these painted planks were you that you wound up crashing headfirst into a wall of crimson, and immediately plummeted towards the ground. But then a strong arm was around your waist, twirling you back to your feet. And boy was it a twirl—like you were being swung around into an entire waltz. It left your head spinning worse than if whoever-it-was had just let you faceplant into the dirt.  

“Wow, ow. Your head is way harder than it looks. Ouch. My poor ribs.”

You immediately moved to apologize, but were caught off guard by a pair of softly rounded ears peeking out from beneath mused, brown, hair. Another human. Like you. You blinked a few times, not entirely sure why the idea of another mortal gallivanting around the Festival was so surprising. You fought what would no doubt look like an insanely creepy urge to lean closer and get a better look at his face, just to make sure—to check if his canines were blunted, if his pupils were round and soft rather than narrow slashes of black. There was another low rumbling of thunder, closer this time. It was followed by a sharp crack of lightning that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“Sorry about that,” you finally managed to eke out, vision still a bit swirly.

“It’s alright. It didn’t actually hurt that badly,” your victim chuckled, cordial, and set you back on your feet. It was a very lovely chuckle—deep and warm, like melting, dark, chocolate. “Are you alright? You look a little dazed.”

“I think so—” you began, before accidentally putting a bit too much weight onto your left ankle. It twinged painfully and you winced. Immediately that hand was back at your shoulder, keeping you balanced. “Or maybe not.”

“I guess my head is still harder than yours after all,” Mister Brunette mused to himself.

“I don’t think your head twisted my ankle,” you mumbled, confused.

He tossed his head back with a laugh, and you couldn’t help but notice that he had very lovely cheekbones. Not as sharp as Malleus’s maybe, but still perfectly proportioned to the rest of his very well-cut face.

“What are you doing all the way out here? Are you lost too?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you hummed, glancing around at the semi-familiar layout. You couldn’t really tell if you recognized the little stalls because you’d seen them before, or if it was just because they were standard make and all looked more or less the same. “…Probably.”

“We can be allies in idiocy then,” he snorted pleasantly, and reached out with his other hand to double up on helping you better maintain the balance that you so clearly did not possess.

“Does this new ally have a name?” you asked, still a bit dizzy.

“Stefan,” he grinned—all white teeth and charisma. “After my great-great-great—” He paused for a moment, as if considering, “great-great-grandfather.”

He laughed merrily at whatever disgruntled face you were pulling.

“Yeah. I guess it is all a bit pretentious,” he sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But that’s just the way it is back home—for my family, at the very least. Lots of tradition this, and lineage that.”

“Oh?” you hummed. “Sounds stifling.”

“It is! I mean, it’s practically the 14th century now,” he laughed, and you genuinely could not tell if he was being serious. “I’m always telling my father it’s time to get with the times, you know?”

For a moment, you were reminded so strongly of Malleus and his general dissociation with the modern world that it was almost startling.

“And you?”

“Me?” you blinked.

He laughed. “Your name? If you don’t mind me inquiring, of course.”

You gave it freely. Lilia had cautioned you once upon a time about something-something-power-in-a-name, but Lilia wasn’t here right now. And it’s not like you were anyone special enough that your name could mean much of anything to begin with. Maybe, if they were lucky enough, someone could use it as an incantation to summon a hungry racoon from the sewers.

Stefan repeated it merrily, with the same inflection one may use when telling a fantastical tale to friends in a tavern. No ravenous racoons spawned from the trees when he said it, so you assumed the whole ‘power’ thing was probably safe.

Another flash of emerald lit the sky—this strike was larger, louder. Like dozens of branches unfurling from a rotting tree, or clawed fingers digging their way through the clouds. The roar of thunder that followed almost seemed to shake the ground. Stefan frowned up at the black clouds.

“It was already starting to get late anyways, but the weather is really starting to turn, huh?” he hummed and tapped at his chin, pensive. “And I can’t just leave you all the way out here—especially knowing that you’ve got a bum ankle. Hmm…” More tapping. And then his hazel eyes lit up like firebugs. “Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

“A horse?” you repeated, confused.

“Helios,” he smiled, bright as the sun. “He’s my best friend. And, well, also my trusty steed. He’s just over in the contestant’s stables. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind giving you a lift.”

Riding back into the heart of the Festival on horseback sounded like something that would absolutely give Sebek at least two separate heart attacks. But before you could voice your skepticism, Stefan was rushing off—his crimson cape swirling behind him in the wind.

“I’ll be right back!”

You slouched against a pillar with a sigh, shifting as much of your weight off your ankle as you could manage. You wondered if Malleus had finished his Pre-Festival duties. You wondered if Sebek had realized you’d disappeared yet. Surely even he wasn’t that oblivious. You wondered if he was panicked at all—if not for you, then for his Lord’s inevitable wrath at the misplacement of a favored ‘pet.’

“Well, well. There you are, little one.”

You jolted in surprise and immediately curled back into yourself with a pained hiss. Goddamned ankle—

“Lilia,” you gaped. “Jesus fucking—don’t dothat.”

The Fae shot you a wicked grin from his place floating overhead, angled just-so so that it looked like he was dangling upside-down from the wooden signage across the top of an empty stall. But you knew better. He was bouncing around on his magic and his magic alone.

“How did you end up all the way out here?” Lilia hummed, slipping from his ‘perch’ to land gracefully at your side. His wine-red eyes roved over you from head to toe. It felt like you were being filleted. “And you’ve gone and hurt yourself on top of everything. Goodness,” he sighed, bone-deep and weary. “I was hoping I wasn’t going to have to deal with another one of Malleus’s tantrums this evening. And yet, here you are. Being so careless.” Another sigh, nearly a groan. “What am I going to do with you, hmm?”

“It’s not like it was my fault!” you spluttered, even though it had definitely been your fault.

Lilia gave you a look.

“Either way,” he continued, voice lilted in that indulgent way that reminded you far too much of a parent trying and failing to discipline a wayward child, “let’s get you back before he blows the entire market away.”

Then, Stefan called your name and the fond expression on Lilia’s face immediately flattened into something so pointedly blank it was almost unsettling. Your new friend came trotting forward, a lovely and large silver dun horse at his side. Helios, you assumed. The gigantic beast caught sight of Lilia and slid to a standstill, rearing up with a panicked whinny as he backpedaled. Stefan twisted his hands into the reins and ran a hand along the horse’s neck—shushing and placating the startled animal. After a moment, Stefan managed to calm Helios enough to keep him from bolting, and he turned on Lilia with wide eyes.

“Lord Vanrouge,” Stefan said, angling his head in what you assumed was deference. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this evening.”

“Nor I you,” Lilia hummed, that impassive expression remaining firmly in place. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Prince Stefan? We were informed that you and your family wouldn’t be arriving until the day after next.” A pause. The silence felt louder than anything Lilia had said up to that point. “If at all.”

“Prince?” you choked, turning on the brunette with eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Whoops?” Stefan shrugged, looking sheepish. “And I—well… I just wanted to get a look at everything. Beforehand.”

“Of course,” Lilia droned. “Either way. You’ll have to excuse us.” The Fae slide one hand beneath your knees and the other around the small of your back, and hauled you into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all. “We have a pressing appointment to keep.”

With that, the world seemed to tilt on its axis as the environment melted together like splotches of watercolor paint all running together at the bottom of a page. You’d never been teleported before. You’d seen Malleus and Lilia pop in and out of existence plenty of times, but being dragged through the fabric of time and space alongside him was jarring, and the journey left you feeling nauseous and loopy all over again.

It took you a moment to realize that the universe had stopped spinning, and that the plush material beneath your palms felt an awful lot like the duvet on the bed in your guestroom. You opened your eyes slowly, cautiously, to see Lilia had placed you neatly by your pillows and had already moved away to start fretting over your swollen ankle instead.

“I never thought I would have to lecture you on the dangers of talking to strangers,” he tutted, though it wasn’t entirely playful.

“I didn’t know he was a Prince,” you complained, wincing when he prodded clinically at your stinging flesh. “I just thought he was, I don’t know, some guy.” You fought and failed the urge to fidget—fingers nervously meshing together in your lap. “…I didn’t cause an international incident or anything, did I…?” You had no idea how any of this royalty stuff worked. But you could put two-and-two together well enough to understand that the personal guest of one crowned prince mowing down a different prince was probably not looked upon very highly.

Lilia leaned forward to pat your head, some of his usual mischief working its way back into his expression.

“Not to worry, Prefect,” he smiled. “I doubt any wars have been declared over your transgressions.”

There was another roar of thunder and the castle itself seemed to tremble. The bay windows lining the wall opposite you were lit entirely in a sharp flash of lime green. Once the wicked brightness of the lightning had faded into something less blinding, you could make out dozens of hairline cracks racing up the glass panes.

Lilia sighed, looking for the first time like someone who was very acutely feeling the weariness of his hundreds upon hundreds of lifespans. “Well, not yet, at least.”

.

.

.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

@destinationdesignation @the-dumber-scaramouche @starchilll, @juulranch, @kalims, @theneurodivergentdummy, @honey-deerling, @thenyxsky, @vasiliki-koshka, @cassidycampfire, @youaskedfurret, @asimpleazur, @iwannabeacrow, @fuckingfaraway, @ambievert, @cerisescherries, @mys-harmony, @queenaveryrules, @smokebell, @alextheknight707, @hermiona18, @paintingeels, @rebloging-everything,

@nexxy-is-lonely, @akuri-shinsou, @nebulabunni3, @hermiona18, @alextheknight707, @crockercorpbakers, @sillyhummingbird, @loxi546-blog, @blackrose8425, @paranoiac-666, @alexpeaches, @cinnamontimecrunch, @cupid3m, @iamnotwiddle, @coloursplash666, @smokebell, @dreamingjirachi, @existingcurrently, @littlemusicfox25, @spaceyrunes, @un-petit-peu-confused, @medleycharm, @chocolateduckdinosaur, @barryatsumu, @ttwinrytwo, @imaginedfantasies, @cleos-stuff, @whathappenedtobees, @5sos-wdw, @trixeraptops, @obaniori, @thededly2, @kttyfngs, @reconcy, @patimiet, @itsmarlsworld, @fae06, @nowwhat-runlikehell, @kinglion03u, @catgirler, @anonymouscandy, @hatsunemiku2025, @clappincobracheeks, @horcrux-alchemist, @crypticbibliophile, @nyotnyota, @ally-glow, @yourimaginaryfriiendd, @hamdehlesmis, @scarapeep, @https-casanova, @niki-chan15, @insomnia-space, @rabioa, @ailynyan, @posionapplecider @pen-observing @afternoon-read, @marvelous-maxi, @inkeddreamz, @ai-dev, @anasianplate

[twstgarden]

❀ ❝ 𝗮𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 ❞

━ lilia vanrouge x fae! gn! reader ━ being a retired soldier of briar valley won't stop you from attending night raven college, but it seems the fates have decided to make you miserable by sorting you in the same dorm as a certain someone you wanted to forget, someone you have never spoken to for the past 300 or so years. 

includes a few spoilers for chapter 7! f/n stands for first name.

do not steal or translate without my permission.

"just how long is this blasted ceremony going to last?"

a fae in the sea of humans, merfolks, and faes alike mumbled under their breath as they scoffed to themselves, crossing their arms as they wanted to get out of this uncomfortable yet stylish ceremonial robe.

once it was their turn to be sorted, the ex-soldier of briar valley stood before the dark mirror as it spoke to them, "state thy name."

"f/n l/n."

"...f/n l/n, the nature of your soul is... diasomnia!"

the fae merely hummed in response before softly thanking the dark mirror and lining up with the other first-year students that are sorted in diasomnia. they, of course, did not fail to notice a familiar mint green-haired fellow in the line.

'sebek zigvolt... isn't that baul's grandson and... his student?'

they shook their thoughts away and tried to focus back on the ceremony, watching as a new student ━ or so they say ━ caused a fuss because of their little cat, but the fae knew this little creature was a magical beast.

after the whole fuss, they got into their dorm and were about to head to their room, when they heard a familiar voice behind them.

"ah, you must be one of the new students... or not. i don't remember seeing a traitor in our dorm."

the voice sounded oh-so-familiar to this fae, causing them to sigh as they turned around and met with his raspberry-red eyes, one that was full of life compared to when they last met. they gulped softly to themselves but kept their indifferent expression on as they stared at the man before them.

"...not really pleased to meet you again, l/n."

to him, that was an utter lie.

to them, that sounded like another one of his painful truths.

"not so pleased to meet you either, vanrouge."

the fae then turned around and left to head to their new room, leaving the ex-general in the hallways of his dormitory as he sighed to himself and mumbled, "after 300 years, you had to show up and pretend nothing ever happened between us, huh?"

meanwhile, the fae crashed on their bed and stared upwards, trying to calm their quickened heartbeat after meeting with that certain someone after so long.

"damn it, of all dorms, it had to be one where he's the vice leader..."

tough luck for this little faerie. it seems they have to face their past once again.

the fae wanted to roam around their dorm and explore for a while, but the chances of meeting him out there again are high and may the thorn fairy forbid they ever cross paths again today.

and so, they spent most of their days roaming around and exploring the esteemed night raven college and attending their classes, all while avoiding him. they have crossed paths with silver and sebek once in a while, but those two have no idea who this faerie was to their precious instructor.

of course, f/n had come face to face with their crown prince for the first time, since he hasn't hatched yet by the time they disappeared and ran away from briar valley.

those three had no idea who f/n exactly was, and they only knew one thing.

they're an ex-soldier of the royal army in briar valley.

"father, if you don't mind me asking, is f/n a co-worker of yours?" asked the silver-haired boy in curiosity, wanting to know more about the new addition to their dormitory, just like the other two.

"i have crossed paths with them a few times and thanked them for serving the country," spoke the horned fae as he sipped on his tea while looking at the older fae seated across him.

"they spoke of my grandfather as well. are they a co-worker of yours, lilia-sama?" asked the mint-haired first-year as he looked at his instructor.

lilia sighed and had no choice but to tell them, now that they were curious. he set his teacup down and hummed to himself, thinking about where to start. however, before they could say anything else, another voice chimed in.

"you could say we are co-workers. though, comrades would be a better term."

all of their heads turned to look at the source of the voice, and there stood the ex-soldier of briar valley with an indifferent expression on their face, but one could argue that their eyes could indicate they were a little nervous.

"ah, l/n... what an unpleasant surprise..."

the other three looked at lilia as he said those words and wondered, if f/n was a comrade, why is he treating them like an enemy?

"vanrouge, i have shown myself this time to settle things with you," spoke f/n as they still stood there, not caring about the inquisitive gazes of malleus, silver, and sebek.

"after 300 years and you finally decided to patch things up?" asked lilia as he raised a brow at them, focusing his raspberry-red eyes on the faerie before them.

f/n bowed their head a little in shame as they spoke, "...i apologise for suddenly leaving you behind like that. it was not my intention to hurt you."

it was silent for a while ━ an uncomfortable silence for all five of them in the lounge. seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours to them due to how long the silence was. silver then looked at his father, noticing how his eyes remained on the faerie before him, how his lips had a thin line as he did not want to speak just yet, and how his grip on his teacup tightened then loosened a bit.

it did not take long for the other three to guess that these two had some history.

"...i know a simple apology is not enough to make up for the 300 years i've lost with you, but i did not have a choice back then," muttered the faerie as their eyes set on the floor, avoiding lilia's gaze as they felt uncomfortable to face their mistakes.

...

"l/n, i order you to spy on briar valley's royal army. gain their trust and give us their information."

"yes, sir."

the faerie found themselves enlisted in briar valley's army, working closely with the general and meeting the infamous princess often. f/n kept a fake personality on to win both of their trust, to know everything about them and the next plans of the army to defeat the opposite side. none of them ever had suspicions against f/n at first, because what faerie would work for the human army?

things were well for f/n at first, having to successfully carry out their tasks perfectly and gain the trust of two of the most powerful beings in the country.

that is until they felt their usually icy-cold heart warming up and beating faster around the general. it seems that spending more time around this general to extract information from him ended up making this little faerie fall in love.

love? how absurd. there is no time to fall in love in the middle of a war.

but the way his stern yet subtly adorable eyes meet theirs, the way his hands feel on theirs, the way he would offer them his food ━ no matter how distasteful his cooking was, no one can afford to be picky when in the front lines, as he says ━ all these little actions would make f/n's heart jump in their chest.

no matter how hard f/n denies it, they are falling for the general and soon, they would forget about their mission. instead, they have a new task this time: to establish a relationship deeper than friendship and camaraderie with general lilia vanrouge.

everything was well with the two of them. their newly formed relationship has given both of them another reason to get up in the morning and fight in battles to win the war, to protect each other and their beloved country.

however, any avid reader would know that happy endings don't last forever. an unfortunate circumstance befell the two military couple, and f/n found themselves back in their boss' lair. the damned human looked down on them as he spoke, "so, l/n, do you have any explanation for not replying back to our letters?"

the faerie in shackles glared up at the wretched man but did not say another word, refusing to even speak and address him. the man chuckled darkly as he continued looking down at the faerie with a smirk, "it seems the little faerie has fallen in love and forgotten their purpose. well, let's see how your dearest beloved will react upon discovering that the person who holds his heart is a traitor."

f/n's eyes widened for a moment as they struggled to break free from the shackles, looking up at the man as they spoke, "wait, don't...! he doesn't have to know!"

the man disregarded f/n's words and gestured to the rest of his guard to toss the faerie in the basement, locking them up in there for, what they intended to be, centuries.

f/n managed to sneak out at some point, breaking free from the chains and disappearing from the lair as they ran away, hoping to rush back to lilia, but they knew it would be difficult to find him deep in the forest.

so they did one thing: escaping from the land of briar. there was no use to run back to lilia as f/n thought their boss had probably revealed their identity as a spy to him. he'd just push them away if f/n decides to head back.

...

"let's not talk about this in front of them," spoke lilia as he sipped on his tea, but the other three glanced at him and decided these two should talk it out. malleus was the first to stand as he said, "it seems you two need to discuss something personal... we'll excuse ourselves."

the three then walked away, leaving f/n and lilia in the lounge as the ex-soldier/spy sat on the couch across lilia, still refusing to look at him in the eye. it was silent for a moment, it was uncomfortable, it was awkward.

none of them were able to look at each other for a while.

none of them were able to utter a word.

until f/n let out a sigh and decided that now was the time to face their past mistakes, ask for forgiveness from their former lover, and to explain their 300-year-long disappearance.

"...vanrouge━"

"just address me the way you used to."

"...lilia, i've been avoiding you and running away for the past 300 years because i was worried that they are still out there..." spoke f/n as their tone went low and apologetic and their eyes stayed on the male before them.

"and you never once thought that i could protect you?" asked lilia. "... i had thought you found out about my identity and would want nothing to do with me," answered f/n as they hung their head low.

"and who are you to decide that for me?"

f/n went silent for a moment, looking back at lilia as they bit the inside of their cheek in anxiousness. lilia had a serious expression on, one that f/n grew fond of in the past, but it was also one that is rarely seen from lilia nowadays in nrc.

the silence was deafening, even if it was only for a few seconds. the ex-soldier twiddled with their thumbs as their heart pounded in their chest, all the while lilia looked back at them with an indifferent expression, but it was evident from his pained tone that he was still upset at them.

"do you have any idea how much i worry for you out there when you disappeared? i had no idea if you were alive or dead, i had no idea if you were safe or locked up. i heard nothing from you for the past 300 years and i thought that maybe you died and your body was never found, but then now i see you here in the academy, alive and well, acting like there was nothing between us," responded lilia in a worried yet frustrated tone as his eyes glared at his former lover.

"i thought you'd be angry at me for betraying you," replied f/n.

"and you think i won't be angry at you for running away and not giving me an explanation?" asked lilia, letting out a heavy sigh as he grew displeased, avoiding f/n's gaze as he refused to even look at them now, "but no matter how infuriated i was, your well-being still becomes one of my priorities."

then, silence followed. f/n could not find the right words to say, and lilia could not find any other words to add to his statements. the two sat there in silence, waiting for the other to at least say something to break this pin-drop silence.

after what seemed like hours, but was actually a couple of seconds, f/n stood up and took a seat beside lilia, wanting to grab his hand but opting for just sitting beside him as they looked at the male.

"...i'm sorry."

lilia let out a sigh before giving them a small smile, ruffling their hair as he spoke, "don't fret, it has been centuries since then. i am not a being who holds grudges for too long."

f/n smiled a little and hesitantly wrapped their arms around lilia, and he did not object to their affection as he, too, wrapped his arms around his former lover. once they pulled away, sebek suddenly spoke by the staircase.

"they're your ex-lover, lilia-sama?!"

silver tried to hush sebek, but lilia and f/n had already looked up and noticed the three of them eavesdropping and peeking down at them. lilia smiled in response to sebek's words as he spoke, "hmm... i'd say remove the 'ex' and you have it right."

f/n looked at lilia in surprise as they muttered, "what...?"

lilia looked back at the fae beside him, giving them a cheeky smile as he asked, "we never officially broke up, no?" f/n blinked their eyes in surprise before shrugging their shoulders, "i mean... technically not?"

f/n then looked back up at the other three, their eyes landing on silver as they spoke, "i heard silver calls you father." lilia nodded his head as silver gave f/n a polite smile and bowed his head in respect to his father's lover, "uh... yes, i'm his son."

"is that so? then, it looks like you three earned another parental figure."

© twstgarden 2023 || please do not steal, translate without my permission, or use this to train a.i.

[pamsimmer]

When I made "Lunar" someone asked for a legacy challenge for human sims. So I finally wrote one!

Since some people don't like big legacies because it takes forever to finish, I made another small legacy! Only 5 gens.

If you know my stories from twitter or my "pamsimmerstories" you know I usually use a lot of adult themes and this is not different, so be aware this can be a little dark.

TW: Spouse death, while giving birth; Drug Use, alcohol and other drugs; Child Abuse, Neglect; Infetility

LEGACY CHALLENGE: "Dream Odyssey"

Basic Rules:

Start as a Young Adult - any gender you want

Normal/Long lifespan (which one you prefer)

You can use freerealestate cheat if you want to begin.

When I put ( / ) is because you can choose what you prefer or if you don’t have said pack you can choose the base game one.

Colors are not mandatory, but it could be fun?!

Requirements: Cottage Living, University, City Living, Nifty Knitting, Horse Ranch, Get Famous, Get Together, Snowy Scape, Island Living, Seasons, Parenthood.

Mods recommendations (Not required):

McCommand Center,

UI Cheats,

Long Distance Learning,

RPO.

Basemantal Drugs

Generation 1: “Dandelions” by Ruth B.

You moved from your parents to live in a big city and go to your dream college (San Myshuno Institute)*. You’ve always wanted to be a doctor/veterinarian and this was finally happening!

One day you met the love of your life in between classes (preferably someone you met that is also at uni) you get married, but one day you caught them cheating and you feel like this is the end of the world.

So you leave everything and go to Henford on Bagley and become a farmer. You meet someone that makes you open up again and you two have a beautiful family.

*if you don’t want to use mods like the ”Long Distance Learning” by Ravasheen, you can just pretend you’re going there living in San Myshuno

Traits: Good, Animal Enthusiast/Loves the Outdoors, The last one you pick, to make things interesting, pick a bad trait like high maintenance

Career: Start as University Student in San Myshuno (you can finish it and start the career or you can just drop university in the middle of your term); End up as a farmer in Henford

Skills: Logic/Vetenerian and Cross-Stitch

Hobby: Cross-Stitch or Knitting

Aspiration: Country Caretaker

Relationship: fall in love at university, get cheated on, runaway to Henford and meet someone new. You can have children with the first one if you want to or you can wait until you meet the second sim. It’s up to you.

Color: Green/Yellow

Generation 2: “High” by Miley Cyrus

You grew up in the middle of a bunch of animals, your parent was a nature freak and you became one as well. But your kind of animal is a bit different from your parent. You love horses and you dream in live at Chestnut Ridge and have your own horse and participate in competitions and earn money from it.

You find love, but when your wife is giving birth to your baby, she dies (your sim could be a woman and you use cheats to make her pregnant and if you don’t use mods as RPO/Pandasama you can also cheat to kill the sim).

[The Sims 4 killing cheats: [death.toggle true - kill your Sim] I've never used it, so I don't know if it really works]

So you see yourself as a single parent juggling between parenting and taking care of your horse and participating of competitions.

Traits: Horse Lover, Rancher, the last trait you choose.

Career: Autonomous as Horse Competitor, you can try odd jobs as well

Skills: Riding, Painting/Nectar Making

Hobby: Painting/Nectar Making

Aspiration: Championship Rider

Relationship: Meet someone, become a widow/er. You can find love again if you wish.

Color: Orange

Generation 3: “No Love In LA” by Palaye Royale

When you were born your mother died and you never met her. Your other parent was always busy with his horses and competitions that you now hate Chestnut.

You want more for your life. As soon as you age up, you go to Del Sol Valley and you’re finally able to follow your dream of becoming a star! You want to be a famous actor/actress. But not everything is like you thought it would be, you thought you would become a 5 star celebrity quickier than you did. But you never give up.

Find a celebrity and get married to them just for fame (I guess you’re gonna need cheats for them to meet).

[Modify Relationship

You'll need the full name of your Sim and the celebrity Sim (or vice versa). If it doesn't work, try " LTR_Friendship_Main" at the end.] (I also never tested this one...but in case you don't have mods, try this)

One day you’re gonna meet someone who’s a nobody and fall in love, you’re gonna cheat on your partner and get pregnant/get someone pregnant.

You have two choices:

leave your spouse and be with your love or

stay in a unhappy marriage and pretend the cheating never happened (if your sim is a male, never talk to the pregnant sim again and one day a child shows up at your door, this is gonna be the heir. And if your sims is a female, pretend the kid is your husband’s child. It doesn’t matter, you’re gonna fail as a parent no matter what).

Traits: Self-Assured, Ambitious, and a bad trait of your choosing

Career: Actor

Skills: Acting, Dancing, Photography

Hobby: Photography and also dancing, go to nightclubs often, drink a lot (if you don’t play with mods pretend your sims is an alcoholic, if you play with mods like basemental your sim is definitely an alcoholic and maybe had a drug addiction, let’s go dark here)

Aspiration: Master Actor

Relationship: Marry for fame and cheat on your partner and get pregnant of impregnate someone this is how your heir is gonna be made.

Color: Red

Generation 4: “Flares” by The Script

Your parent should never be a parent.

You grew up in a spolight because of your parent, but you hate it. Everything is so fucked up and you just want to run away as far as possible.

When you become a teen, you're going to run away from home and go to Mt Komorebi, drop from school and work in a part time job.

To scape your own mind you start a few hobbies such as snowboarding/skiing/climbing.

When you’re young adult you meet someone while doing one of those things and you two fall in love. You two start a family and are very happy.

Traits: Adventurous, Loner, and a trait of your preference

Career: Teen: Part Time Job; Young Adult: Salaryperson

Skills: Two of these: (You can choose: Snowboarding/Skiing/Climbing)

Hobby: Choose two from 3 (Snowboarding/Skiing/Climbing)

Aspiration: Extreme Sports Enthusiast

Relationship: Find love when your sim is a young adult and this sim is gonna be actually happy :)

Color: Grey

Generation 5: “Light” by Sleeping At Last

Your parents were loving and you loved Mt Komorebi, but you feel like you need to run away from the cold mountains of Mt Komorebi.

When you grow up you want to live in a summery place, so you choose Sulani.

You fall in love more than once, but your relationships never work. You’re also infertile, but you want a kid so baaaad, so you decide to adopt one after years of trying.

You're going to raise a kid alone, maybe get yourself a dog as well? You want to be the best parent someone could be.

Traits: Family Oriented, Child of the Ocean, and a third trait of your choosing

Career: Any of the freelancer careers

Skills: Parenting, Flower Arrenging/Singing

Hobby: Flower Arrenging/Singing

Aspiration: Superparent

Relationship: All your relationships will fail, no matter how hard you try. One day you finally realize it and just accept that you’re going to be alone and you can be happy like this. Then you adopt a child (could be a baby if you want to) and maybe a pet as well.

Color: Blue

[checkoutmybookshelf]

You Have My Attention: Anne of Green Gables First Lines

The icon of Canadian girlhood needs no introduction, as Anne of Green Gables is a global phenomenon at this point. What those of you who read the first book at like age ten and then didn't bother exploring further might not know, however, is that LM Montgomery wrote a whole Anne series. So how did she catch a reader's attention? Let's find out!

"Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies’ eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook in its earlier course through those woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade; but by the time it reached Lynde’s Hollow it was a quiet, well-conducted little stream, for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde’s door without due regard for decency and decorum; it probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children up, and that if she noticed anything odd or out of place she would never rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof."

-- Anne of Green Gables

"A tall, slim girl, 'half-past sixteen,' with serious gray eyes and hair which her friends called auburn, had sat down on the broad red sandstone doorstep of a Prince Edward Island farmhouse one ripe afternoon in August, firmly resolved to construe so many lines of Virgil."

-- Anne of Avonlea

"'Harvest is ended and summer is gone,' quoted Anne Shirley, gazing across the shorn fields dreamily."

-- Anne of the Island

"(Letter from Anne Shirley, B.A., Principal of Summerside High School, to Gilbert Blythe, medical student at Redmond College, Kingsport.)

Windy Poplars,

Spook's Lane,

S'side, P. E. I.,

Monday, September 12th.

DEAREST:

Isn't that an address!"

-- Anne of the Windy Poplars 

"'Thanks be, I’m done with geometry, learning or teaching it,' said Anne Shirley, a trifle vindictively, as she thumped a somewhat battered volume of Euclid into a big chest of books, banged the lid in triumph, and sat down upon it, looking at Diana Wright across the Green Gables garret, with gray eyes that were like a morning sky."

-- Anne's House of Dreams

"'How white the moonlight is tonight!' said Anne Blythe to herself, as she went up the walk of the Wright garden to Diana Wright's front door, where little cherry-blossom petals were coming down on the salty, breeze-stirred air."

-- Anne of Ingleside

"It was a clear, apple-green evening in May, and Four Winds Harbour was mirroring back the clouds of the golden west between its softly dark shores. The sea moaned eerily on the sand-bar, sorrowful even in spring, but a sly, jovial wind came piping down the red harbour road along which Miss Cornelia’s comfortable, matronly figure was making its way towards the village of Glen St. Mary."

-- Rainbow Valley 

"It was a warm, golden-cloudy, lovable afternoon. In the big living-room at Ingleside Susan Baker sat down with a certain grim satisfaction hovering about her like an aura; it was four o'clock and Susan, who had been working incessantly since six that morning, felt that she had fairly earned an hour of repose and gossip."

-- Rilla of Ingleside

[the-oaken-muse]

Misery Loves Company

My Ecto-Implosion fic for @creep-dot-commercial 's art! Thanks for letting me play with your blorbo! I promise I didn't break her too much

Check it out on ao3, if that’s your jam

A line of glowing green carved a rectangle into the dark wall; it shifted, dimming and brightening in turns with no discernible pattern. The light danced across the sturdy wood paneling within its border, highlighting the peaks and valleys of smaller and yet smaller rectangles. It bounced across the glass-smooth stone of the floor until it reached the rippling waterfalls of fabric lining the walls. Its toxic hue overpowered blood red only at the point where it shone most directly on each curve and drape before fading to gray and then, finally, leaving a brilliant crimson untouched on the far side. 

All at once the green line vanished, the light wholly eclipsed by creeping tendrils of shadow. Like a bank of mist or, perhaps, a cloud of smoke, the darkness drifted through the crack around the door and into the hall. The shadows came together, bubbling and churning and climbing as though each desperate billow wished to be atop the heap and did not care how many others it had to trample to get there. 

The smoke took shape, solidifying into a beautiful young woman. She stretched long, sinuous arms above her head until her freshly formed spine let out a series of sickening cracks. 

“Much better,” she sighed. “I really needed that.” 

Nothing picked her up when she was feeling down quite like helping the youth of today find their place in the world. 

Children were such adorable little morsels, so full of wonder and hope . It was admirable, really… but real life was not kind to the innocent. They weren’t invincible , they weren’t special , they weren’t different . No one was. The sooner they learned that the better, and there was something so… fulfilling about being the one to teach them that lesson. 

Not to mention how absolutely delectable their misery was… So maybe she had gotten a bit carried away this time, but a little take out now and then never hurt anybody. 

Well… it had never hurt her ; she couldn’t exactly say the same for the Sylvan High dance team captain. 

Penelope grinned with all the predatory grace of a cat who had just finished tormenting some small creature.

She had been such a sweet girl. Surely her classmates would miss her, unlike–

Abruptly, the smile fell from Penelope’s face. 

She stood frozen in place aside from the slight shake of her fists where they clenched at her sides, the next moment she was on her way down the hall. 

Her heels tapped out a purposeful rhythm, echoing as if in a great cavern despite the close press of the walls. 

She chanced not a peek down at the marble beneath her feet, its black surface polished to perfection. 

Click-clack, click-clack.

She strode on, eyes straight ahead.

Click-clack, click-clack.

The curtains to either side did little to dampen the sound, not of her heels, nor of the whispers behind them. 

She fought the urge to walk faster.

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.

At the end of the hallway, there stood a single vanity, its elaborately carved wood painted white with trim leafed in gold. It was lit by a ring of bulbs around an attached mirror; each glowed softly on its own, but combined and reflected as they were, the light they cast was harsh and unforgiving. It was the same vanity that had been in her childhood bedroom, exactly as she remembered it. 

She pulled out a matching white and gold chair and sat, but rather than face the vanity’s mirror, she pulled a small compact from her pocket and began examining her reflection in it. 

She was flawless. Of course she was. She had just come back from feasting on the bountiful despair at some underfunded, small-town high school. 

None of the students there would ever amount to anything. Such grand dreams, the way they had all yearned to leave, but would never be able to afford anything more than the local community college. She had… lowered their expectations. No sense getting their hopes up just to go into debt over a degree they would never use. They could get a dead-end career and a job they hated just as easily without some fancy piece of paper.

She was rejuvenated. Her skin was glowing, her complexion even, her pores practically nonexistent. Everywhere she looked was perfection from the tip of her nose to the curve of her jaw… 

But then she saw it, a small, jagged line to mar her otherwise immaculate features: a single, gray hair. 

"Oh, Penny, you had better get a husband soon," her reflection spoke with the voice of her mother. "Why, you're practically an old maid!"

Unbidden, in the small circle of the compact, a wrinkle formed between her furrowed brows.

"You know I don't care about that," she scoffed, plucking the offending hair with a wince. 

“Well, maybe if you cared about anyone but yourself, I would have had grandchildren!” the voice complained. "I don't want- I didn’t have time for a husband or-or–” she stuttered, “I was- I’m focusing on my career right now…"

One of her eyes twitched, the skin beneath them thinning and darkening like so many sleepless nights.

"Are you sure that's why?" said another voice. 

Penelope would know that voice anywhere, though it had been many years since she'd last heard it. It called out from behind a curtain to her left. 

She stood on trembling legs, her knees not what they used to be. Supporting herself with the back of the chair, she reached out a shaky hand.

Vanessa had been the most popular girl at her high school. Beautiful, smart, and beloved by all. Penelope had always looked up to her, wanted to be like her, wanted to be accepted by her, wanted to…

She threw aside the curtain only to be met with her own reflection sneering back at her. It laughed, beautiful and cruel, just like Vanessa.

“Everybody knows why you don’t want a husband , Penny.”

The whispers grew louder, a few of them giggling meanly at the implication.

Something lurched in her chest, an irregular beat pounding in her ears.

“No! No! It’s not true!” she cried. “That’s just a rumor! I’m- I’m not–”

“Not what? Not completely and utterly obsessed with me?” Vanessa’s voice laughed again. “Not that I blame you, everyone who’s anyone adores me. It figures that a nobody like you would be in love with me, too.”

Penelope tried to defend herself, but the words tangled on her tongue and caught in her teeth. 

In the mirror, metal flashed in her mouth and when she clamped her lips closed, the braces cut them from inside.

“Face it, Penny, you’re pathetic . Even if you weren’t a… you know… no boy would ever want to date you. Nobody likes you. You’ll never be pretty enough to hang with the popular girls, never be smart enough for the math nerds, and, unless you spontaneously gain a talent for playing the tuba, I don’t think even the band geeks would take you. You are going to die alone and unwanted .”

The truth in Vanessa’s words hit like a punch to the gut. Penelope’s skin was too tight, her body all wrong. It was too tall, too sweaty, too clumsy, too hairy. Lingering baby chub and curves in new places made her feel like a sack of potatoes stuffed into a sausage casing and she wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow her whole.

Self-loathing rose like bile in the back of her throat.

The mirror before her grew, bloating her reflection, warping her into a funhouse caricature. It towered over her, herself a looming giant within its tarnished gold frame. Her each and every flaw was magnified and distorted in a grotesque display that turned her stomach to behold.

“You look fat,” a different voice interjected.

“What was that?” she croaked, turning to the other wall.

“I said, ‘you look fat,’” the blunt voice of her father repeated. “Maybe instead of trying to earn six figures, you should focus on maintaining the one you already have.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped, tearing the curtain from another mirror.

“Look, all I’m saying is, maybe if you practiced a little self control, cut back on the sweets…” her own brows twisted in a mockery of concern from behind the glass.

“Your father’s right, dear, you’ve definitely put on a couple pounds since we saw you last,” her mother’s voice chimed in from the vanity. “We’re not trying to be harsh, we’re just concerned about your health . Don’t you care about what you’re doing to yourself?” 

“If you don’t care, how can you expect anybody else to?” her father’s voice said matter-of-factly.

“I do care! I care more than any of you!” Penelope cried.

The mirror began to stretch up, up, up. This time it pulled her with it like saltwater taffy until she was thin and gaunt, a looming skeleton with hollow, hungry eyes.

“And it’s still not enough.” 

Pale, drawn lips spoke with the poison-sweet voice of a dark angel. 

“You will never be enough. You try so hard to be wanted…  but the harder you try, the more embarrassing the failure. You've always reeked of desperation and all it does is drive people away. Perfection doesn’t exist, so you constantly move the goalpost. You’re running yourself ragged to meet an impossible standard. If you’re not good enough for yourself, what makes you think you could ever be good enough for anybody else? You will never be good enough for me .” 

The rejection from Vanessa pressed against her chest like a crushing weight. She couldn’t breathe. Tears pricked at her eyes. It hurt far more than being turned down by any boy. She didn’t need love, she told herself, all she wanted was to be liked.  

“And you couldn’t even manage that ,” her reflection sneered. “You squandered your youth chasing an unattainable goal. You always thought it would be nice to die young and beautiful instead of old and ugly. It would be a tragedy, of course, and everyone you knew and even a few you didn’t would mourn your loss. A bright light gone too soon. You would be so lovely lying there in the casket and there wouldn’t be a dry eye when the preacher gave your eulogy… but you never felt beautiful enough, never worked up the nerve to go through with it…” 

Penelope turned away, arms circling herself defensively.

“You carved away pieces of yourself trying to please others until there was nothing left,” the mirror she now faced continued where the last left off. “You betrayed yourself, punished yourself, deprived yourself. You pushed others away so they wouldn’t see through your facade, wouldn’t see past the beautiful smile you pasted on, wouldn’t get to know how awful of a person you truly were. You were afraid you’d slip, treat them the way you treat yourself, and deep down you knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t stop.”

She covered her ears and pinched her eyes shut, but it didn’t help. She couldn’t keep out what was already inside.

“You wasted away, too old to be tragic, too young to be accomplished, to have lived a happy, fulfilled life. You died alone and woefully, painfully middle-aged. ‘These things happen,’ they said at your funeral. The few who came, anyway. All they felt was an apathetic sort of sadness, like what you feel for a dead animal on the side of the road. Pity, perhaps. They knew they should feel sad, on an intellectual level, but they had no real connection to you, nothing to break, nothing to mourn. Oh, they missed you, of course… well , they missed what you did for them, at least… until they found a replacement, that is.”

The doorway she had come through shrank away from her on one side and the vanity receded on the other.

“They never understood!” she spit out, incensed by the injustice of it all. “They never saw how hard I tried, how much I did! They took me for granted! I did everything for them, did everything they asked and more , and got nothing in return! I made it look easy, but it was never easy! And if I ever slipped? If they asked too much and I didn’t have any more to give? It was always my fault, never theirs!”

The hall began to shift and twist, mirrors spinning above and below and all around her, curtains whipping as though in a hurricane.

“They didn’t know because you didn’t tell them,” reasoned a whisper from one of the mirrors, still crystal clear over the roar of the wind. “You fault them for falling for your mask when you were the one who so carefully crafted it.”

“They should have known anyway! They should have known that they were asking too much! No one could have been that perfect! They should have realized how hard I had to work for it! How many obstacles I had to overcome just to get to where they started!”

“People can only see things from their own perspective, and most never even attempt to look from another’s. They only have the experiences they’ve lived themselves. They haven't lived your life, they can’t see into your mind,” replied the quiet voice of reason.

“Everyone else is just so… so… self-centered! It’s like they aren’t even trying!” she accused. “It’s always been easy enough for me to get inside other people’s heads, to know what they really think, how they really feel! It’s child’s play to know their greatest desires and deepest fears, what makes them tick and what it takes to get under their skin!” 

“Only people who are wearing a mask suspect others of doing the same. You’re no better than they are,” the voice of reason pointed out. “You think that everyone around you is hiding who they truly are just because that’s what you do. You’re projecting your own experiences onto others just like they did to you. You think you’re better than them, but that’s just a lie you tell yourself.”

Every mirror, now free of its velvet prison, stared at her from its place along the winding corridor. Each frame boasted a different version of her, some young, some old, some fat, some thin. From every angle her own two eyes reflected hundredfold. 

She had never felt so exposed.

“No! No! I am better than they are!” she laughed, a mirthless thing, bordering on hysterical. “I’ve worked harder than they have! I’ve suffered so much more than they have! I gave them everything I had and they didn’t even appreciate it! They abandoned me as soon as it was convenient! They don’t understand how I feel! How much it hurts to be told that you’ll never be good enough! To spend your whole life desperately trying to prove them wrong. To work, and work, and work until you’re perfect, only to find out that perfection still isn’t enough!”

Penelope fell to her knees under the weight of her despair, clutching her arms tightly around herself in the pale mimicry of a hug. It would have to do, for there was no one else to offer an alternative. 

When she spoke again, it was a hoarse whisper, though it still echoed in the dying breeze. 

“Everyone I’ve ever known… my classmates, my bosses, coworkers, family , the people who claimed to be my friends… They all told me over and over all the things that I was doing wrong, all the ways that I was wrong… They all acted like they were some modern day Columbus ‘discovering’ a new land… but just like him, they were never the first. Every single critique, every ‘helpful suggestion,’ every last cutting remark followed the same, well-worn path over a gash that was never allowed to heal, carving it deeper and deeper until it became a part of me and I became certain that it always had been.”

She pushed herself up on shaking arms. 

Windblown hair hanging limply blocked her view of the hall at large, a makeshift auburn curtain meant to shield her, though it acted only as blinders, forcing all her attention straight ahead. 

She stared at the mirror below her, down into her own haggard face.

“I already knew all of it, every last flaw. I thought about them every waking moment and during every restless dream. They colored every interaction I had. I was constantly adjusting myself, tweaking what I said and how I acted to be the least offensive version of myself, yet always aware of my own shortcomings.”

She sighed, eyes scanning over her appearance, running through the all too familiar catalog. 

The scar on her chin from when she'd picked a pimple in 7th grade. The way her eyes sat a tad too far apart. The one crooked tooth that the orthodontist hadn’t bothered to fix. External markers that were but the tip of the iceberg compared to the mess she was on the inside.

“Death was supposed to be the end of it all, supposed to be a blissful nothing, if not my just reward, but instead here I am, stuck in my own personal hell.”

“You’re the only one to blame for that,” said the voice of reason. It was really starting to get on Penelope’s nerves. “You're the only one here. You torture yourself with your past mistakes, things that you couldn't go back and change even when you were still alive. If you are trapped in a hell, it is one of your own making.”

Anger bubbled up in her chest as she stared herself down, hands pressed, claw-like, against the cool glass. Another thing she was being blamed for, another thing out of her control.

“And what, exactly, do you propose I do about it?” she snarled.

“Let go,” the voice simply said.

It was like a vacuum opened up within her gut, the brief sensation of falling, the panic of a chair tipped too far.

“You're stagnant. You're stuck. Can't you see that if you could only love yourself, everything would be alright? You can become a better person, you can become someone you enjoy being around instead of someone to repress or to fight,” the voice implored. “Let go. Let go of the self hatred, learn to accept yourself, flaws and all.”

Her reflection reached out a hand, an olive branch, a peace offering.

Could she really change? She had always thought it was too late.

She began to reach out, as well, to meet herself in the middle, tears pooling in her eyes.

Could she really start again? Leave her past behind? Forget all the pain that had shaped her? She wondered who she would be if not for her parents’ nagging or the judgment of her peers? All the things that drove her to want to end it all the first time…

A pang of terror jolted her right down to the core.

The mirror below her rippled like a once clear pond disturbed by something lurking invisible beneath its surface. The hand that moments ago extended only peace now brimmed with small, white pills. 

She stared, transfixed. 

They were so beautiful, each so unassuming, so perfect and uniform. Powder pressed until it held its shape, polished until it shone, a sweet coating to mask the acrid taste of the medicine inside.

Her hand, still half reaching, stalled and began to shake.

Some deep-seated sense of self-preservation that even now clung to her meager existence, despite how awful it was, would not allow her to take the plunge.

Bitter memories coated her tongue.

She withdrew her hand, cradling it to her chest, “I- I can't. I just- I can't do it.”

It was the wrong answer, she knew it was, even before her reflection went dark, even before all she could see in the bleak, black pit beneath her was a pair of angry, red eyes.

Twin coals burned bright through a smoky haze and a voice distorted by rage hissed out, “You idiot! What is wrong with you?”

The frame beneath her began to shake. The wind picked up again as the hallway writhed and lashed. A hundred voices echoed all around her, “What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you? Wrong, wrong, wrong!”

“Are you really too stupid to do this one, simple thing ? Why can't you take even the first step towards happiness? Do you want to wallow in self-pity for the rest of your afterlife? Are you so afraid of failing that you're willing to give up before you've even started? ” The words boomed and crashed all around her, like thunder in a storm. “You would rather tear others down instead of putting in the work to build yourself up. You surround yourself with people who are even more miserable than you, and ruin the life of anyone who has the gall to be happy in your presence. Is it any wonder you're alone? You–”

Penelope raised her fist, bringing it crashing down against the glass. 

Her reflection splintered into a million jagged pieces, broken beyond repair, just like she was. The mirrors went dark. The voices went silent. All she could hear was the echo of every drip-drip-drip of her blood on the marble floor. 

The side of her hand and her wrist burned where the mirror cut it in a final, desperate attack. She relished the pain; it gave her something to focus on, pulling her from her spiral.

She crawled, broken glass crunching under her hands and knees, toward the exit. Floor became wall became ceiling then wall once again. She fumbled with the knob of the sideways door until it fell open into nothingness, the vast empty abyss of the Ghost Zone before her. She clutched the wood paneling like a lifeline floating in a sea of despair. Her chest heaved in the vacuum, great gulps of nothing in lungs that didn’t exist. 

Unsurprisingly, it brought her little comfort. 

The silence echoed in her ears. The cacophony from before buzzed beneath her beautiful skin, roiling deep in her gut. She swiped the tears from her perfect face and rubbed soft hands over graceful arms, smoothing away any sign of what lies within. Behind her, a shadowy barrier spanned the door frame, cutting her off from her lair. One last dim reflection stared back at her with hollow, red rimmed eyes and all she could see now was the mask. 

Her gaze traced over the arch of her brow, the curve of her nose, the swoop of her hair. Everything was as it should be, not a freckle out of place… then something caught her eye. A small glint, just above her right temple. A rogue hair, wiry and white, stood out proudly, arrogantly, disdainfully against the neat order of her luscious strawberry locks. 

Muffled voices began to stir and if she looked closely she could just see undulating drapes of red velvet behind the tinted glass. 

Her lashes crashed down, shuttering eyes that glistened with fresh tears, sending them careening over the edge. Twin trails traced hollow cheeks, miniature waterfalls that sprang not from a fount of eternal youth, but a well of endless suffering.

She hated it here. She hated it, but it reminded her of who she was. It reminded her of all the reasons she was a monster. She hated it, but it felt familiar, it felt like home. 

She wondered if it really would be better to just forget it all, to start fresh and become a new person, a better person. But she was just a ghost, a shadow of her former self. Who could she be if not who she was?

If she forgot herself, forgot her reason for existing, what would happen to her? If a shark stopped swimming, it would die, so what would happen to a ghost who let go of its reason to cling stubbornly to some semblance of life?

Penelope shuddered and shoved the ugly thought deep into the recesses of her mind, behind yet another beautiful, red velvet curtain. 

Through her tears, the other doors twinkled in the distance like stars against a backdrop of her own personal darkness. This part of the zone responded to her every emotion since she was the most powerful ghost as far as she could see in any direction; the other ghosts kept their lairs just to the edge of her reach. Even in death she was alone, even the others whose horrible lives landed them here in this god forsaken place wanted nothing to do with her. She was an outcast even among outcasts.

In a sudden bout of fury, her perfect nails became perfect claws and left perfectly deep gouges in the wood of her door.

Why should she change anyway? For them? For the people who had mistreated her, abandoned her, forgotten her? It wasn’t her fault she had turned out this way… no, it was everyone else's.

A nerve twinged in her neck and the beginnings of what promised to be a nasty headache bloomed at the base of her skull.

“Oh, I need a drink,” she groaned, swiping a hand across her face. “Or, better yet, someone who’s having a much worse day than me.”

The top half of her body floated up with the other half following much more slowly, as it unspooled into a dark miasma once again.

She flew off in search of a new set of people in need of her… services . Perhaps another school, or maybe a DMV��� Places where people were forced into close quarters and bored out of their minds were breeding grounds for frustration and despair.

Penelope grinned wickedly, she was feeling better already.

After all, misery loves company, and who was she to deny her nature? 

[satohqbanana]

Arcanium:Magia Scrapped Prologue

A/N: This is how I planned Arcanium:Magia to open. I have since realized that it contained little context regarding the characters' current relationships and dynamics, which made their conflict pretty confusing. Most of this prologue is also all about the dialogue as this was my first attempt transitioning this story from its original RPG format to a written format. Definitely a huge learning experience for me as a primarily fanfic writer.

The sun settled between the mountains and bathed the valley city of Kaleidopolis in warm hues. Avians and dragons flew above the city, past the Great Heartwood that stood so proudly over its subjects.

Beneath the canopy of the colossal tree lay Heartwood Academy, the school of mages. Teachers dismissed classes and doors burst open. Green uniforms and flowing capes filled the halls as apprentice mages rushed to and fro, excited to go home and rest for the night. A select few students opted to stay - some out of dedication to their studies, and some due to instructions from their mentors.

One of such people was 14-year-old Grace Ardor III.

Earlier that day, a teacher told her to visit the office of the Head Spellcaster, Mistress Jewel. Assumptions swirled in Gracie's head as she took deep breaths to calm herself down. Her grades, her practicals, her relationships with her classmates - what could the matter be?

Gracie made her way to the Head Spellcaster’s office. When she knocked, the Head Spellcaster's assistant showed her inside and told her to wait. Her chest tightened in the heavy air.

The office was divided into two: a waiting area and the workroom. Gracie stayed in the waiting area while the assistant and the Head Spellcaster held their discussion behind a thin divider wall. Colorful maps, plaques, and portraits contrasted its white walls. A tall shelf with glass doors and gold embellishments stood by the corner, filled with books on high-level magic.

As Gracie stared beyond the glass, something moved in the reflection, and she jumped in her seat with a swallowed scream. A folder scurried by - now, a group of grey rats scurried by to carry and slide a folder under the door. Gracie muttered hushed complaints under her breath as the folder disappeared and the rats scampered away. She could never get used to the school's little helpers.

As she pulled her legs to the chair, knocks came, and the door swung open. Through it walked a familiar face with a mole under the eye: Ireus Maverick, one of her classmates. He announced his presence with a loud voice.

"Miss J! Ireus Maverick is... hey, what are you doing here?"

Gracie ­turned her head away. "...I'm waiting for Mistress Jewel."

"You got in trouble? Again?! Hah! What can we ever expect from you?"

She forced her gaze on the still-open door and hoped Ireus would leave. However, as he babbled away, a lithe figure with a purple hood went through the doorway. The person closed the door and turned around: Duke Desmond, another classmate.

"You're loud," he told Ireus, then turned to Gracie, "Hm? You're here too?"

Finally, Mistress Jewel's assistant opened the workroom door.

"Thank you for waiting, children. You may now go inside."

Ireus huffed. "All of us?"

"Yes. All of you."

What a twist! Though confused, Gracie followed her classmates into the workroom and sat between them.

Grey rats flitted about, moving files and objects across the room. Behind a desk, Mistress Jewel sat poised and smiling. The light from her lattice window crowned her shaved head and gleamed through her studded earrings.

"Hello, children," she greeted, "Grace Ardor III, Ireus Maverick, and Duke Desmond. Do you know why you're here?"

No, Gracie knew she'd done no wrong. Nonetheless, she threw her head down and blurted, "I'm sorry! I didn't do it!"

"Please calm down."

"I swear I didn't. I, I was just--"

"Don't worry, Gracie. It's not like that. Please lift your head."

Gracie released a soft sigh. But what could the matter be?

"How about you two?" asked Mistress Jewel.

"It's gotta be an errand," answered Ireus.

"Don't care. Just make it quick," said Desmond.

"Ever so curt, are we?" Mistress Jewel chuckled. "It is, indeed, an errand."

Gracie whined and groaned with her classmates. Mistress Jewel then reached to the floor and a cinder rat ran up her arm.

"In fact, it involves our dear cinder rats."

Gracie wailed. Compared to her initial assumptions, reality was far more detestable.

According to the head spellcaster, it was a directive from their elusive, yet-unseen Headmaster. He assigned the task to the three based not on their qualifications as mage hopefuls, but their flaws as students. The rats brought three folders and Mistress Jewel read off each file:

Grace Ardor III, princess and heir apparent of the Prisma Kingdom, often used her classmates as servants to skip on schoolwork or as scapegoats for her own mistakes.

Ireus Maverick, son of two prolific healers and a genius academic, resorted to fists when commands or insults didn't earn his classmates' respect or cooperation.

Duke Desmond, the new kid in town, though an exceptional worker on solo tasks, refused to be anything but, followed his own rules, and ignored most of his classmates.

Gracie cringed, Ireus bargained, and Desmond protested. Mistress Jewel cast a glare and the three quieted.

She then continued, "It isn’t appropriate for you three to continue acting this way. The teachers convened on your cases and the Headmaster decided to send you three to the basement for an errand."

A few days ago, large brown rats chewed their way into the basement. They claimed the place for themselves and bullied the smaller cinder rats. With the retreat of the academy's little helpers, the basement had since been in disarray.

The school staff applied remedies by sealing the intruders' passageways and employing pest control measures. However, the size of the basement posed a challenge and the problem persisted.

"This is where you three come in," explained Mistress Jewel, "Your group is to pick up where our staff and our little helpers left off. You will not only deal with the remaining thug rats, but also accomplish the cinder rats' abandoned duties. Do not worry, for in the basement, we installed a blue crystal for you to recharge with. Am I understood?"

The boys bemoaned their fate and their now-occupied after-class schedule. However, Gracie had a different concern.

"M-Mistress Jewel! If this is a group task, then who's the leader?"

The head spellcaster widened her eyes and tugged her lips upward. "Oh! Why, thank you for reminding me! To answer your question, the leader is you, Gracie!"

Ireus jumped from his seat and almost squished a cinder rat beneath his foot. "Miss J, you can't do this! Gracie can't be the leader; she's a joke!"

Though appalled by the comment, Gracie agreed with Ireus, as did Desmond. Mistress Jewel's smile however did not change.

"Until you're done with your errand, you may not leave. I'll see you by dinnertime!"

With that, Mistress Jewel called forth her magic and an ethereal glow surrounded Gracie and her teammates. Beneath them, an arcane circle appeared, and the light grew brighter and brighter...

In a flash, the young mages disappeared. The cinder rats took the folders away and brought a sealed envelope before the head spellcaster. Jewel traced the verdant green wax seal as she massaged the bridge of her nose.

The workroom door opened and in came her hooved assistant. The wide-eyed faun remarked, "How energetic! I thought the boy would run out the door when you revealed he's not the leader."

"I've no energy to deal with the kids anymore, Yara. Could you kindly ensure that those three won't get into trouble?" Her assistant grinned. "Of course."

Current Tag List: @philosophika, @amaiguri, @thecomfywriter Feel free to ask to be tagged!

[s12-kittie]

Tales of Seven Stars: The Sixth Ring

Chapter 1: An Offer One Can't Refuse

Trix week day 6

Prompt: Cannon Divergent

@trixweek @bellatrixobsessed1

For the day 6 of the Trix Week I wanna present you my 2 babies: chapters 1 and 2 of the book 1. Also, I might change them later if the whole plotline goes another way.

The stuff is happening a year after season 3, so seasons 4-8 are not fully considered as cannon for this fic.

It was a nice, warm day. The sun shone high in the clear sky, and a pleasant breeze blew, bringing fragrances of different flowers growing on distant valleys.

Even the Black Mud Swamp looked less disgusting and ugly than usual. A hot, rainless summer made the mud dry out, so most of the mosquitoes had left, looking for a more humid place to live in.

That was beneficial for the students of Alfea and Cloud Tower, who came here with their teachers to have a merged practical class. After defeating Valtor, the headmistresses of both magical schools decided to fix the relationship between witches and fairies, which had not been very trusting and pleasant. For that, some changes in the studying program took place, such as merged lessons and student-exchanging programs.

Now fairies and witches were standing opposite each other, while Professor Palladium held a small speech to explain the contents of the task.

“Today you’re going to have a small practical test to sum up the material you’ve learnt last year.” The teacher explained. “Your skills at working together will be tested as well.”

Some of the Cloud Tower students rolled their eyes.

“You’ll have to divide in pairs.” The teacher continued. “But you must choose a partner among the students of another school. Learning to use opposite kinds of magic together will help you to…”

“… to see you more often, handsome?” The witch with scarlet hair whispered with a snort.

She appeared tall, but only because of the platform high-heeled boots, still impractical for the swamp, and had a long, pointed face with heavy make-up on it and pinkish-purple eyes. Her straight hair was cut in a so-called “jellyfish cut," so most of it was short, while the lower half of the back hair nearly touched the grass with its ends.

“That too, miss Ruby.” Palladium said, truing his face to the witch, whose face immediately blushed from the sharp chin to the forehead, hidden below the tick fringe. “But most importantly...”

“What’s with the face, Ruby, darling?” The witch with long and shiny reddish-pink hair slapped her friend in the back.

“I… I-it’s just..." The latter mumbled. “W-well, he’s handsome, right?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you have a crush on him, sweetie!” Her friend chanted.

“Miss Acid, be quiet and listen to the professor!” The professor from Cloud Tower hissed.

“…and, last but not least, you will be prepared for an unusual situation and…”

“Well, an unusual situation indeed!” A witch with long, half-up wavy brown hair whispered, and most of her classmates giggled.

Just one of them, standing a little aside from the others, rolled her eyes.

This witch wasn’t even close to beautiful; short and thin, with a square chin and jaw. Pale wax-like skin and lank, shoulder-length, dirty-green hair, getting yellowish-green to the ends, cut in a short asymmetric fringe, made her look lifeless and even quite unattractive, except for some tiny yet noticeable details, like emerald-shining eyes, a straight nose, or bright orangish-red lips. She was wearing an oversized forest-green hoodie, black skinny jeans, and brown laced jackboots. Her only accessory was emerald-green rhombic earrings.

The witch exchanged gazes with a petite fairy, standing opposite her. The fairy had short, straight brown hair, big, turquoise eyes, twinkling with curiosity, and seemed three or four years younger than her classmates.

“Can’t these witches handle themselves?!” A fairy with short, light-blue hair snorted irritably, making the girl flinch.

“Yeah, they show so much disrespect!” Someone nearby said.

“He’s our teacher; that’s why they try to make fun of him!” Another voice from the fairy group hissed.

Professor Palladium raised his hand as the whispers among both groups were becoming louder and louder:

“Please, be quiet, ladies. I haven’t finished yet. In the middle of this swamp, I hid some magic spheres. You will have to use all the converging skills you’ve learnt to find one of them and bring it to me. Now, who can tell me what you should avoid while doing this exercise?” He looked at the two groups.

The green-eyed witch raised her hand.

“Yes?” Palladium pointed at her, a little surprised.

“The spell should be fed from the equal doses of magic of both partners; otherwise, it would result in one of them feeling sick because of an impact of an opposite magic source.” She answered in a bitter tone.

“And why is that?” Professor raised a brow and gave her a bright smile.

“In order to converge, two or more people create a temporary bond between their cores, which leads to free magic circulating among them. If the magic is applied in 1:1 proportion, the opposite sources neutralise each other, and no side effects happen.”

“It’s correct! You’ve earned an ‘A’, miss…”

“Jade.”

“Right… Thank you for your answer, miss Jade. Now, back to the task. Those who find a sphere will pass the test; for an ‘A’ it should take you not more than thirty minutes. Don’t try to compete with each other. The quantity of the spheres is the same as the quantity of the pairs. Now, you may begin.”

Jade and the petite fairy came closer to each other and headed to the centre of the swamp.

“So, the locator spell should do the trick.” The witch turned to the fairy.

The fairy nodded.

“Isn’t it too simple?” She asked in a high-pitched voice.

“For the professors, it would be just right. They lost hope in students long ago and will give an ‘A’ for just completing the task in time, so those idiots I have to study with don’t look so miserable and humiliated. Did you hear what they asked me, Daisy? The safety rules for converging. What a comedy.” Jade scoffed. “As if these imbeciles will memorise anything after me repeating these rules out loud for the Dragon-knows-what time. And I also need time to talk to you, so the locating spell it is.”

Daisy nodded again.

By that time, the girls had reached a little plain clearing. They stopped in its centre and clenched hands together.

“Just don’t give me more than needed.” The witch told her friend. “I think at least you are capable of remembering those safety rules.”

“I’ll try.” The fairy closed her eyes.

A few moments later, a shiny ball of bright-green and light-yellow energy appeared and floated to the left. The girls followed it.

After a few more minutes of walking, they reached a valley covered with dry grass.

The ball stopped near a group of bushes, growing to the left of them. A dusty-pink transparent sphere lay among their roots.

“There it is.” Jade noted contentedly, picking it up and hiding it in the pocket of her hoodie. “Let’s go back.” She turned around.

At that moment, Ruby rushed out of the farther bushes, pulling a fairy, who, despite light-pink hair and a serious expression of her face, looked much alike with the witch herself.

“Oh, darn!” Ruby cursed at the sight of Jade. “What are you doing here, Psycho?! This is my sphere!”

“Too late.” Her classmate gave her a smirk while walking away together with Daisy. “See you back at school. Unless you drown somewhere, to my great relief... ”

“Dream on. The swamp is dry! How am I supposed to drown here?!”

“Oh, you could.” Jade chuckled and turned away.

Ruby paused for a few moments, confused, then dropped at her partner:

“It’s your fault, Quartz! What took you so long with this spell?!”

“Says the one who did nothing!” The fairy hissed. “And why did I agree to be your partner?!”

“Because you hate other witches a bit more than your own twin sister!” Ruby pushed her in the chest. “Now find another sphere and fast! I need a good grade!”

“Are you still sharing your room with her?” Daisy asked quietly, casting a glance at Ruby.

“Unfortunately.” Her friend sighed. “Now she’s a little more bearable, though. Seems like all she needs is a permanent threat to her life to stick to Cloud Tower roommatehood rules.”

***

“Have you heard the latest news?” Jade asked, as soon as Ruby and Quartz were left far away.

The two girls now entered the darkest part of the swamp. The trees grew everywhere, blocking the sunlight, except for several golden rays, piercing the air.

“About the cases of power loss?” The fairy cast a glance at her friend. “Yes, I did. Do you think it’s…”

“Shadow Vampires? Most likely.” The teen frowned. “The whole situation looks exactly like the cases described in that book.”

“I wonder why no one else thought about it.” Daisy looked at the witch.

“Griffin might have; she’s not a complete idiot.” The latter disagreed. “And there’s a good possibility that she’s planning to take action.”

“So, what do we do?”

“We get to the rings as soon as possible.” Jade stated. “I don’t want to give up school, but it doesn’t seem I have a choice.”

“Maybe… Maybe we should... tell the teachers?” The fairy asked unsurely.

Jade shook her head.

“They will choose the future keepers by themselves.” She rolled her eyes. "And there's no way I’ll even have a chance to be the candidate. I hope I don’t need to explain the importance of this ring for me once again.” The witch clenched her fists.

“Sorry, I…” Daisy began but didn’t finish the phrase.

They continued to walk in silence.

“So, we need a plan.” Jade finally said. “I already found the portal, but it’s not enough. We also need a map.”

“What map?”

“It was created by the Ancestral Fairies long ago and should be hidden somewhere in Alfea. I’ll look for the exact location later. Curses, I didn’t expect it to happen so soon.” The witch sighed. “Fine, I’ll think about it after classes... Hey, what’s that on your neck?” She suddenly pointed at the golden amulet Daisy was wearing over her turquoise T-shirt.

“It’s a special amulet. Faragonda insisted that I always wear it, so I don’t accidentally use more power than needed.”

“Interesting…” Jade bent closer to her friend. “Can I try it on?”

“But Faragonda said I should never take it off…” The girl protested weakly.

Jade rolled her eyes:

“She worries too much. Come on, D, you don’t really expect anything to happen during these thirty seconds, do you?”

“I… Well… I think you’re right.” Daisy took the jewel off and gave it to the witch.

“Strange, I don’t feel anything unusual.” The latter put it on. “Now, let’s see…”

She closed her eyes and started reciting a spell. Magic started swirling around the witch, together with ice-cold wind.

“Just… Don’t break it, please…” Daisy’s eyes widened with fear.

“Everything’s under control." The witch murmured, frowning. “There. I feel a barrier. Yeah, I guess that’s the edge.” She grunted. “I can’t get through.”

The teen opened her eyes. The swirls disappeared, and the wind stilled.

“Well,” Jade exhaled, taking the amulet off and returning it to her friend, “if you didn’t need it, I'd..." Suddenly she frowned with tension. “Wait. Someone’s around.”

“Hey, Psycho! I didn’t finish!” Ruby went out of the trees.

“I don’t have time for your nonsense today, so just skip it and shut up.”

“Dream on, weirdo! It’s your fault that I got a bad grade!”

“I’m not the one to blame for you being born without brains.” Jade rolled her eyes.

“You stop that! I could get an ‘A’ I needed, but then you appeared and screwed everything up! As always! You enjoy it or what?!”

“I just don’t care, neither about your plans nor about you in general. And if you don’t want to be burnt to ashes right now, then…” The witch turned around. “Well, now it’s serious… I sense three big auras nearby. They’re definitely not students.”

“That’s right.” The cold and strong voice behind them said.

The girls turned around and saw three figures, appeared out of thin air. Jade had seen their mugshots before at several billboards in Magix, together with a caption "wanted,” and she’d heard a lot about these witches. They were the Trix, the notorious witch trio. Three sisters looked exactly like in the mugshots: Icy, blue-eyed with straight silver hair, tied in a ponytail; Darcy, with yellow eyes and dark-brown hair with dark-blonde front strands; and Stormy, curly, greyish-purple-haired, with grey front streaks and turquoise eyes.

“Stay behind me.” The teen whispered to Daisy.

“The heck?!” Ruby jumped back, stumbled over something, and ungraciously fell on the grass with a loud exclaim.

“Well, well.” Icy continued, stepping forward. “Students from Alfea and Cloud Tower. Just like we needed, sisters.” She turned to Stormy. “Do your thing, and fast.”

“With great pleasure.” Stormy smirked, turning to the girls. “Lightning shot!”

“Mirror defence!” Jade blurted out, stretching the hand towards the three sisters. A bright green shield appeared in less than a second, reflecting the violet lightning. Stormy didn’t expect it and fell on the ground, blasted by her own spell.

“What?!” Darcy exclaimed. “But it's high-level magic!”

“You deal with it, then.” Icy replied indifferently.

Darcy nodded and shut a spell towards the girls:

“Dark confusion!”

“Mental barrier!” Jade exclaimed, creating a green barrier around them, which bounced the spell back, so Darcy hardly managed to jump away.

“Curses!” Icy swore. “You’ll pay for this, little brat! Freezing wave!”

“Fire barrier!” Jade created a wall of acid-green fire, stopping the spell.

“Huh?!” Icy exhaled, losing her breath in rage.

“The students can’t be this strong!” Stormy hissed irritably, glaring at the two girls.

The teen grabbed her friend’s hand.

“Daisy, let’s get out of- ouch!”

One moment was enough for Icy to hit both girls with a paralysing spell, throwing them on the ground.

“You stay down, too.” Icy sent the same spell towards Ruby, who still stayed on the ground, already paralysed by fear.

“Not so confident now, are you?” The witch of ice bent to Jade. “Now, before we get rid of you three-”

“Wait.” Jade stopped her. “I have a deal for you.”

The witch of ice raised a brow:

“A deal?”

“Exactly. Hope you know what that is.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, you little brat, or I’ll finish you off right now!” Icy hissed.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Jade rolled her eyes. “I’ll be brief; there’re objects that are thousand times stronger than the Dragon Flame.”

“Thousand times stronger than the Dragon?” Stormy asked, then broke into laughter. “Yeah, right!”

“Shut it!” Icy barked at her, then turned back to Jade. “Go on.”

“I already said everything. You leave me and the fairy alive now, help me get close to these objects, and then you can take some of them for yourselves. Don’t worry, they’re enough to make you unstoppable.”

“Aren’t those too many conditions?” Darcy looked at the teen with interest.

“For the greatest power in the whole Universe?” Jade chuckled. “I don’t think so. Besides, I have nothing against you still taking that one with red hair. Her existence is a mistake anyway.”

Ruby let out an unclear exclaim.

“You’re wasting our time.” The witch of darkness replied.

Icy remained silent, deep in thought. Her eyes fixed on Daisy’s necklace.

“Fine.” She finally said. “I accept your deal.”

The witch of ice clicked her fingers, cancelling the paralysing spell.

“Wha-” Stormy began before Darcy pushed her in the stomach with an elbow.

Jade and Daisy stood up, shaking the dirt off their clothes.

“We’re setting off in the centre of Gloomywood at midnight.” Jade told the three sisters. “Hope you didn’t have any other plans for tonight.”

“Not a thing.” Icy told her in a cold tone. “And if you’re trying to trick us, you’re doomed.” She clicked the fingers for one more time, and the three witches disappeared.

“‘Having that one with red hair’!” Ruby finally stood up. “You will sure pay for this one, Psycho!”

“Well, turns out you’re so hopeless, even the worst criminals don’t want to deal with your stupidity.” Jade chuckled. “Come on, D.” She passed by her roommate with Daisy following.

“Great, it makes everything even easier.” The teen smirked when they were far enough from the witch of gemstones. “Let’s get that sphere to Palladium, and then I’ll think up a plan.”

***

“Why did you agree?” Stormy asked. “That brat was obviously lying.”

The three witches returned to their hideout, almost the only one the police of Magix couldn’t find. It was way below the Gloomywood, protected with many strong spells, which were still functioning, even though Valtor, who had cast them, was caught and drained. From the inside, it looked like something between a cave and a large hall with high ceilings, full of magical books and artefacts.

“Of course she was lying.” Icy agreed. “But did you notice what her fairy friend was wearing?”

“A sort of stupid amulet. So?”

“These amulets used to handle an immense amount of magic inside one’s body, you dumb thing.” Darcy explained. “So that girl must have very outstanding power.”

“Right. And tonight, we’ll capture her without making any useless noise.” Icy smirked.

[cupcake-mage]

It's World Goth Day so my boy Corbin is getting some spotlight!!

Might go in and finish this later!

[milfholder]

Thanks Carla @helaenalyst for tagging me! 💪

Do you make your bed?

- When I clean my sheets/comforter or have people over, yes. Otherwise no because the dog will hog the bed and I won’t have any blankets for myself.

Favorite number?

Anything divisible by 3! But maybe 27 is a cool one? When I was a kid my favorite number was always my age.

Job?

-I am a graduate student studying paleontology who gets paid to teach human osteology to undergraduates.

If you could go back to school, would you?

-After I get PhD and doing my post-doc? Yes, because I love school. It’s part of why I want to stay a teacher! It’s an environment that suits me.

Can you parallel park?

-In theory. I know how, but I just got this car so I avoid it because I know I am prone to errors.

Do you think aliens are real?

-I think they could be real, but our brains have a difficult time imagining what they’d actually look and behave like because we only have our own planet to go off of. Realistically the evolution of life on other planets wouldn’t necessarily be like us at all.

Can you drive a manual car?

-No, I have only been driving for a few years and I learned with automatic and drive an automatic.

What’s your guilty pleasure?

-I don’t feel guilty about the things I enjoy but me and the roommate have been watching Vanderpump Rules together and I’m hooked.

Tattoos?

3! An octopus on my chest, lily of the valley on my leg, and a semicolon with birds on my wrist. I also eventually want to start getting fossils when I’m cured of my broke-itis.

Favorite color?

-Red orange or forest green.

Do you like puzzles?

-I am a puzzle warrior!!! I like sudoku, flow, and crosswords mostly but I like using puzzles that come in a box too. I usually just don’t have a big flat surface to put them lol.

Any phobias?

-I only have one.

Favorite childhood sport?

-Being on the bowling team in high school kinda ruled, I won’t lie.

Do you talk to yourself?

-All the fucking time, especially when I’m alone. I don’t realize I’m doing it half the time. I think out loud throughout the day.

I tag @flanfrog @stinkbeck @velvetys @binglam @beevito @whitechalkbaphomet @crenandos @lucinaswife @relelvance @endofsuccession and @knittinglizards

[crimson-flash]

TOA Anniversary Munday Post

haha i haven't even been here for a month

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is.

Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing!

Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

Name: Penny

Pronouns: She/them

Birthday (no year): 8/19

Where are you from? What is your time zone?: I'm from the United States of 'Merica, Georgia in particulary.

How long is your roleplay experience? Uh, outside of Roblox, and a little bit of Amino, I basically have none, so a month!

How were you introduced to roleplaying as a whole? I was introduced to roleplaying when I entered a Big Brother RP amino thingy when I was 12, and I won the whole thing while mascaraing as like double my age. It was crazy back then.

How were you introduced to TOA?: I was looking at Joshua art, and then I stumbled across an old Joshua muse which lead me to TOA. I know it sounds a bit crazy.

Do you have any pets?: I have a dog named Mellow! I will protect him with my life. He is my pride and joy.

What is your favorite time of year and why? (Season, holiday, general period): Favorite season is Fall, favorite holiday is Christmas, and my favorite general period of time is whenever I don't have school.

What is your IRL occupation? I don't have a job at the moment, I am just a simple high school senior.

Some interests and things you like/enjoy? I enjoy coding little games, I like romhacking and just seeing my edits change the game, it's kinda like magic, lol. I enjoy going for walks, and racing other people, I also enjoy sleeping, who doesn't.

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? Pokemon, Stardew Valley, Wildermyth, Ace Attorney, Smash Bros, Mario Kart, Kirby

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: Water, Vaporeon (NOT IN THAT WAY)

Tell us some funfacts and trivia about yourself! Oh, a fun fact? uhhhhh

How did you get into Fire Emblem? I wanted to know where Marth from Smash Bros came from, so I decided I was going to play Awakening, and now I'm obsessed.

What Fire Emblem games have you played? I have played FE7, FE8, FE11, FE12, FE13, FE17

First & Favorite Fire Emblem games: FE13 was my first, and FE8 is my favorite!

List your 5 favorite Fire Emblem characters across the series! Nooo, I can't choose between my bab- Marisa, Henry, Clanne, Joshua, The 7th Platoon is it's own character right?

Who was the first character ever to make you go “ooh I like this one in particular” and why? Can be any context and reason! It was Clanne when I was playing Engage and got really good growths and he MVP'd like the whole entire game.

Any Fire Emblem crushes? 😳 A certain green-haired woman from a game I haven't even played yet.

If you’ve played (or are familiar with) the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays? - Awakening: My first S support was Anna, and I would probably S support my baby Henry now. - Fates: N/A - Three Houses: N/A - Engage: My first S support was Ivy, but now it's probably Panette.

Favorite Fire Emblem class? Armor Knight

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class and stats? Would you be playable? I would be a reclassable very flexiable unit, but I would always been just below-average in everything, so just like very disappointing. One speed from doubling, and one attack from killing, but I force that luck will always be in my favor.

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? Yellow Team! Uhm, I mean Golden Deer

If you were an Officers Academy student, what would be your boons, banes and potential budding talent? Boons: Reason, Faith. Banes: Axes, Flying (fear of heights), Heavy Armor, Budding Talent: Bows

If you were an Engage character, which nation would you originate from? Solm! I really love Solm and it's characters, it's like Jehanna if it was cool, and didn't have a queen who died in a pretty stupid way and didn't fight back EVEN THoUGH SHE'S A TRAINED SWOR-

How do you pronounce TOA? 🤔(separate letters, to-ah, other?): T-O-A, I will not accept any other pronouncations. 

[billy-royalton]

block party, ice cream, flower crowns

The first Saturday in June, West Valley High throws a Kick Off to Summer event in the school parking lot. Streamers of orange, pink, and green are hanging from lamp posts and vendor tents with everything from artisans selling homemade crafts to street food and local restaurants to homegrown lawn care businesses desperately passing out flyers for maintenance in the middle of a southern California drought.

Johnny remembers the year he volunteered with Ali to set it up. He had thought the whole thing was lame (who wants to go to school in the summer?) but he went along anyway. For Ali. And maybe he enjoyed it, pinning up the banner Ali and Susan had worked on to the backside of the bleachers, walking hand-in-hand with Ali as they checked out every booth in the line, sipping on Cokes and sharing too-sweet, sticky pieces of cotton candy.

The kids want to go this year. Even Anthony, who's been more and more amenable to leaving the house without a screen glued to his hand. Miguel, Sam, and Robby turn to look at Johnny with teenaged pouts in their prodding pleas but all it really takes is Daniel saying, "Come on, it'll be nice" for Johnny to relent with slumped shoulders and a heavy, drawn out sigh.

The place is packed this year. Every family in the Valley turned out in attendance. The outside air smells like barbecue and the sweet sizzle of summer that makes the power lines buzz like Johnny's skin.

There's a makeshift carnival complete with a ferris wheel that the kids bee-line to the moment it comes into view, leaving Johnny and Daniel alone to stroll through the streets tethered only to each other.

They pass by each booth and Daniel is annoyingly insistent about looking into each one. He leaves with flyers and business cards shoved into his jeans pockets that Johnny knows he'll never look at again. They should have put up a booth this year, Johnny thinks. Not that they need any new students now that Cobra Kai is gone but still, couldn't hurt.

A young woman with a nervous smile is parked out front of a booth containing handmade jewelry: beads and rings and little trinkets like that. On the table in the corner are tightly bound flower crowns, some small little daisy chains, some fuller stuffed with baby's breath and pops of colorful florals that Johnny finds himself staring at, too careful of breaking them to touch them. They remind him of his mom, how she would find a wildflower on a walk through the neighborhood and tuck it behind her ear to wear until the petals wilted.

Daniel comes up behind him, flush against Johnny's back, hooking his chin over Johnny's shoulder to sneak a peek at what's caught his attention. He picks up a crown, one made of daisies and tied together with a white ribbon that cascades down the back, and places it gingerly atop Johnny's blonde head.

"Knock it off, LaRusso," Johnny grumbles. His hands fly to remove it but Daniel catches him by the wrist mid-air. He grabs another one off the table, blue florals and baby's breath, and puts it on his own head and Johnny's breath catches in the softness of it all. Under the shade of the white tent, just the two of them hidden in a corner, trading florals.

Daniel pays for the crowns and Johnny's beet red when he walks back into the sun but he doesn't take it off. Not when Daniel keeps looking at him like that. Soft brown eyes, sneaking glances like kids sneak candy.

Kids line up in front of an ice cream vendor and Daniel tugs like a kid himself onto Johnny's sleeve to secure their place in line. Johnny's not a big sweets kind of guy (not with the body he's worked hard to maintain over the years). Would rather indulge in a beer and a few good cheeseburgers and fries.

Daniel orders one large vanilla ice cream ("Seriously? Vanilla?" "It's the most popular ice cream flavor for a reason, John.") with two spoons. They find a spot under the bleachers to take refuge beneath the shade, Daniel taking greedy spoonfuls of ice cream with each step.

Johnny wants to reach out and grasp, thread their fingers together palm to palm and squeeze tightly and maybe never let go. But there are too many people and Johnny just shoves his hands into his pockets lest they find their own bravery in the light of day.

Under the bleachers, Daniel offers Johnny his spoon. Most of the ice cream has softened or melted into a soup but Johnny digs in and takes a bite, mouth filled with the creamy sweetness and when was the last time he even had ice cream on a summer day? He can't remember and he takes another bite before he's even swallowed the first one.

Daniel's looking at him, same soft eyes, but something warmer and brighter behind them. Not the same heat he reserves for the dark corners of the dojo, when they're sweating and panting but both still begging for more. Something more subdued but no less yearning. It sparks a fire in Johnny's gut and he drops his spoon into the paper cup in order to grab Daniel by the chin and bring their lips together.

His mouth is cold and the vanilla on his tongue makes him sweeter. Daniel opens easily, surprised at the quickness of the kiss for only a moment before falling into it head first the way he does everything else.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Mackenzie Mays at LA Times:

Wearing pigtails, a pleated skirt and a furry heart-shaped purse, Chloe Cole bounced up the steps of the California Capitol this spring, leaned into a microphone and insisted that transgender children don’t exist. For the dainty 19-year-old, to erase transgender children is to erase a part of her past. Cole has said publicly and in court documents that she first began questioning her gender identity when she was 12. She left a letter on the dining room table telling her family that she was a boy. She wanted a new name, like Ky or Chi, and a more comfortable life. With the blessing of her parents, who sought the advice of physicians and mental health experts, the self-described socially awkward kid from the Central Valley received routine injections to suppress her puberty and boost testosterone. She was glad when her voice got deeper and her jawline became more defined. In 2020, at age 15, she underwent a double mastectomy in pursuit of her most authentic self.

But now, Cole identifies as a woman and says she regrets those decisions. And she’s making a career out of that regret — traveling the country as a leader of the controversial “detransition” movement and emerging as a right-wing icon. [...] Research shows that youths receiving the kind of care that Cole did at her age is rare and that the likelihood of transgender people changing their mind is even rarer, with some studies showing as little as 2% seek to detransition.

But while Cole’s experience may be uncommon, her reach is wide. In the last year, she has testified before Congress about being “the victim of one of the biggest medical scandals in the history of the United States of America”; attended President Biden’s State of the Union address as the guest of Republican House Speaker Mike Johnson; and urged lawmakers across the nation to outlaw treatment such as hormone therapy for minors. Half of states now prohibit gender-affirming care for those under 18, including Wyoming, where Republicans christened their ban passed in April as “Chloe’s law.” Major medical organizations condemn the policies that Cole promotes, and LGBTQ+ activists warn that people like her are a danger to already vulnerable youths. They worry that the amplification of her story is part of an organized effort by conservatives to discriminate against LGBTQ+ young people whose access to care is crucial to their well-being, citing high suicide rates among transgender people.

Most of Cole’s critics don’t deny her personal story in the same way that she discredits the experiences of hundreds of thousands of transgender youths. But as her profile rises, they question her motives. Cole, who turns 20 this month, works as a patient advocate for the new nonprofit Do No Harm, a leader of anti-transgender legislation, and charges up to $5,000 to speak at public events about gender ideology, according to the Young America’s Foundation, which represents conservative personalities such as Ben Shapiro. She’s told her story on the podcast of hard-right Republican Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene and joined Charlie Kirk, a leader of the MAGA movement, on college campuses where students protest her presence.

[...] The details of Cole’s transition journey are playing out in court, as she sues her medical providers for giving her the treatment that a few years earlier she begged her parents to pursue. Cole — who said she does not use her real last name out of safety concerns — says now that she was never actually transgender, just confused and anxious about puberty. She alleges that her medical providers were too quick to diagnose her and ignored a list of other mental health problems that she believes, if properly treated, could have prevented the medical interventions she now regrets. She has turned her transition process — which she once viewed as the reflection of supportive parents, uncommon for LGBTQ+ youths — into a nightmarish cautionary tale. The mastectomy initially came to her as a relief after spending her days uncomfortably binding her breasts, walking home from school under the blaze of triple-digit San Joaquin Valley summers wearing extra layers to help her disguise. Now, she talks at public events and on conservative media about her surgery scars in grotesque detail, describing infections and mourning that she will never be able to breastfeed her future children.

[...] That question is predicated on recommendations from major medical organizations including the American Academy of Pediatrics that say gender-affirming care is “medically necessary” and potentially “lifesaving” because of the trauma that transgender kids may face. One large study out of Denmark last year showed that transgender people are 7.7 times more likely to attempt suicide and 3.5 times as likely to die by suicide. But Cole’s case has tapped into concerns — on both sides of the political divide — about the right age for gender-related medical treatment. Last month, the Biden administration said it opposed gender-affirming surgery for minors amid debates about the minimum age for different types of care. England recently moved to limit the ability of people younger than 16 to medically transition, and some experts considered LGBTQ+ allies have expressed hesitation amid rising transgender youth rates.

[...] Cole doesn’t just blame her doctors and therapists for her transition. In her lawsuit, she names a long list of other people and factors that pushed her there. She blames the internet and LGBTQ+ influencers she followed on social media at a young age. She blames a boy who assaulted her in the eighth grade by groping her breasts in class — an incident she said traumatized her and made her no longer want to be a girl. She blames being on the autism spectrum, though she does not have an official diagnosis. She blames what she called the horrors of being a woman and the odds of being raped. The youngest of five siblings, she blames being a tomboy who simply looked up to her brothers and wanted to be like them.

[...]

Cole stops short, though, of blaming her parents. She said that she still lives with them and they have “managed to heal as a unit,” but it hasn’t been easy. “This is my decision that I took on. I don’t want to put that on them. I feel like they have gone through just as much grief as I have,” Cole said. “This is something that has brought them a lot of pain. They have a lot of guilt.” Records show her parents filed for divorce in 2019 in the throes of her transition. They did not respond to requests for comment. To chalk up being transgender to a symptom of some disease or as a flaw that needs to be fixed is offensive to the community but is not a new strategy for conservatives. The national GOP platform approved at the Republican convention last week pledges to “end left wing gender insanity” and calls to stop schools from “promoting” gender transition and to “keep men out of women’s sports.”

[...]

One of Cole’s therapists, an expert witness in the case, details the moment that she decided to detransition. She was 16 and had used her chore money to buy LSD. In a state of “bliss and happiness,” Cole heard a voice “telling her that she was lying to herself about being a boy,” according to a declaration submitted to the court. She then became a Christian, according to the declaration, and requested a Christian therapist. When she detransitioned, Cole said she lost all of her friends. She dropped out of high school and took a proficiency exam in lieu of graduating. “It felt like the whole world was turning its whole back on me,” she said. “I was basically a shut-in. I was spending my whole day playing video games in my room.” She also lost her online community of LGBTQ+ supporters. So she found a new one.

Some of the biggest names in the conservative movement have welcomed Cole with open arms, including psychologist and author Jordan B. Peterson, who called gender dysphoria a “sociological contagion,” and activist Billboard Chris, who called gender-affirming care “the biggest child abuse scandal in the history of modern medicine.” Cole’s schedule stays packed. When she speaks at events across the country, she receives standing ovations and the attention of sympathetic audiences. They cheer when she announces she’s suing, and gasp in disgust when she talks about her surgery. That acceptance keeps Cole going even as students have protested her events at college campuses in Iowa, Indiana, New Hampshire and Utah, where she tells her story again and again and holds signs outside classrooms that say things like “children are never born in the wrong body.”

She has more than 20,000 subscribers on YouTube and more than 200,000 followers on the social media platform X. Her supporters make donations to her website to help fund her travel for her advocacy work. Cole, a registered Republican who will soon vote in her first presidential election, has gotten bolder since she began public speaking. Four months ago, she was adamant that she didn’t care about politics.

But as November nears, Cole is using her platform to support Trump. Online, she’s posted a video of her shooting a gun at a shooting range in support of the Republican nominee’s endorsement from the NRA; praised Tesla founder Elon Musk for moving his companies out of California over the state’s new transgender youth protections and called transgender people part of a “self-harm cult.” In her lawsuit, attorneys allege that Cole wanted to transition in part because she “craved the social approval” that transgender kids received from the LGBTQ+ community “that she was not otherwise receiving from her peers.”

The Los Angeles Times delves into how Chloe Cole (whose real name is Chloe Brockman) became a leader in the right-wing political detransitioner movement that seeks to call for bans on gender-affirming care after her experiences with gender-affirming care.

The political detransitioner movement that is led by Cole and few others are a small portion of detransitioners.

[orqheuss]

Even the iron still fears the rot PART 1

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader ANGST)

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Summary:

From the woods came a wretched, inhuman scream of his name, the sound of the cry like an animal trapped in a sharpened bear trap— so very panicked, so very scared. The pure, unfiltered desperation present in the voice burrowed itself deep into his very soul, sending alarm bells to ring harshly in his ears.  “Sebastian!” *** It was supposed to be a normal trip to Hogsmeade. But, when Sebastian and Ominis are kidnapped by poachers determined to seek revenge against the one who killed their fearless leader, will you be able to save them in time?

Word count: 4k

Tags: kidnapping, threats of murder, threats of dismemberment, body horror, gore, blood, panic attacks, detailed depictions of violence

Read at your own discretion

AN: I'm reposting this series finally! I made some edits to later chapters, but this one is relatively the same.

It was a sunny day when they were taken. The excitement of the very first Hogsmeade weekend of the new year sung through the halls of Hogwarts, ushering each and every elated student through the grand double doors at the entrance of the castle and down the winding dirt path towards the magical little town with a gentle melody. Happy laughter filled the woods lining the property, shouts of joy and discussion of what each group of friends were to do first swam through the tall, overarching leaves of the redwood trees. Even the woodland creatures seemed in high spirits. Common squirrels jumped from branch to branch in a race for the best tree nut, wild kneazles ran under the tall canopies, nipping at the ankles of their friends and tittering in play, even a small family of thestrals made themselves known to the wide expanse of students, the mother and father pushing their newborn fowl towards their very first fresh morsel of solid food— its footing unsure and stumbly with only its mothers snout tucked under his chin to keep him standing. Above it all, the brilliant sun blazed down on the pastures of the Scotland highlands, shining on the last of the springtime wildflowers that struggled to survive through the beginnings of autumn. For all intents and purposes, it truly was a beautiful day. 

Two Slytherin’s were a part of the large group, chatting away amongst themselves about the newest invention advertised in Zonko’s joke shop and their favorite homemade fudge from Honeydukes. Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt had grown over the summer between fifth and sixth year; their shoulders filled out more to match their new towering stature, and baby fat seemed to flake from their faces like snakes shedding a new skin. Even with these changes, they were still thick as thieves— best friends from the first moment they met all the way until the very end of their lives. There was very little in the world that could separate the two— even through the terrors of the previous year they somehow still found their way back to the other. It took them most of the summer to be back on speaking terms, particularly on Ominis’ part, but even with all that anger, they still came crashing together like the beginning of a small, green-colored universe. The only change that had been made in all their years was the addition of their new friend, the strange fifth year that joined the school later than normal and wormed their way into their hearts. They had pouted when their new friend told the boys that they could not join for the trip to Hogsmeade, but the duo had quickly promised to bring them back some cauldron cakes to cheer them up after the number of assignments they had to work on. 

It was rare to see smiles on their faces as of late— too much tragedy and death had happened upon them for their liking— but on this day their pearly white teeth were awoken from their long slumber for all the world to see. Grins stretched at their lips as their own laughter rang through the valley, a sight to behold by all. 

The pair were deep in a jest-filled argument about the brunette's troublemaking behavior as the grandiloquent arch of the village came into view. Magic seemed to swirl around the buildings, filling everyone who entered with a sense of calming peace. As many had said in the past, there was absolutely nothing like Hogsmeade— it drew people to it like a moth to a flame. 

The sound of Sebastian’s scoff caught the attention of a small group of Hufflepuffs lingering by the entrance, enticed by him for a moment before turning back to their own conversation. “Oh come off it, Ominis. A little sneak into the restricted section of the library is hardly the worst rule to break in the castle.” 

The blond barked a laugh, unseeing eyes glittering in the sunlight. “It may not be the worst, but it is certainly a rule that you seem keen to break often. How many times have you gotten detention this year so far, again? Five? I wonder how you got all of those.” 

The taller of the two huffed to himself, muttering under his breath in annoyance, “Damned poltergeist, always where he shouldn’t be.” 

Ominis smirked to himself in amusement. “Well, at least I read the rules before I break them.” 

“At least I can see the books I read.” 

A pregnant pause filled the conversation. Sebastian could feel the heated glare of his friend burn into the side of his face and a smug grin tweaked at the corners of his mouth. This was his favorite pastime, poking at a very easily vexed Ominis Gaunt. The other boy broke the silence after a long moment, voice dripping with contempt and malice. “I am going to kill you and make it look like an accident.” 

The brunette snorted, patting the other on the back heartily before quickly retreating farther away to avoid the inevitable slap heading towards him— fingertips barely grazing his arm as he danced just out of reach. “I’d love to see you try.” 

Ominis leveled his face into a blank expression, his twitching eyebrows the only thing betraying his annoyance as he turned on his heel and headed towards Honeydukes, determined to get there before the Saturday rush. 

The other boy cackled at his friend’s retreating form, yelling after him through his giggles. “Meet me in the center of town! One hour!” 

The blond shooed him away with his hand, not pausing in his stride. With a final look in his direction, the taller of the two veered off towards Sprintwitches, intrigued by the new broom upgrades he’d like to explore before the Quidditch season began. 

In the shadows tucked in the alleyway next to the Three Broomsticks, rested a trio of individuals, hoods pulled over their faces to conceal their identity and wands tucked securely in their sleeves. Their eyes trailed the two Slytherin boys, pupils blazing with a ferocious anger and vicious smiles decorating their expressions. While Rookwood, their once strong and powerful leader, may have been defeated by that ancient magic wielding twerp, there were still a few of his loyal poachers floating around in the Hamlet— only now that they were aware of the rare ability you possessed, they wanted it for themselves. It was a pity that you weren’t in town that day, you were their preferred target, but they could definitely draw you out if your friends suddenly found themselves where they didn’t belong. Their twisted smiles got exponentially wider as they thought of the sweet revenge they had meticulously planned for you— it was time to finally avenge their fallen comrade. With one last glance around the sunlit buildings, the three began to creep their way towards the candy store. 

The chime of the Honeydukes door rang out as Ominis exited the market, a package of his favorite fudge tucked securely under his arm. He smiled to himself, lifting his chin upwards towards the glowing sun rays that fell from the sky and basking in their sweet warmth for a moment. He adored the time of the year when spring became fall— the moment where it was just cool enough to leave the castle with a thin sweater but still warm enough for the aromatic flowers to be blooming. The lovely scent filled his nose as he carefully tucked his wand into the back pocket of his trousers, secure enough in the landscape of Hogsmeade to get around after years of coming to the tiny town, and began to head towards the center. Rounding the corner of the colorful building, he made his way down the tiny alleyway at its side, deciding to head to another store to pass the time, and caught the tail end of some juicy gossip from two third year Ravenclaw’s that exited the shop after him. He paused for a moment, his ears pricking in their direction as he tried to hear more of the conversation, quietly chuckling to himself as he thought about how hard you’d laugh at the story when he told you about it later. The loud commotion of the bustling town covered the noisy footsteps approaching behind him, blinding him to the sound of shuffling boots and the breeze of the large hand sneaking its way towards his face. His mouth was quickly covered by the stranger's palm, muffling his shout of alarm and pulling him against a strong, barreled chest. Ominis struggled against the arm pressed against his sternum, feet kicking in the air for leverage before his heels met the solid skin of his kidnappers' calves. No reaction came from the brute, bar a slight chuckle that ruffled the hair near the blond’s sensitive ear. His polished oxfords left tracks in the soil below his feet as he continued to thrash about, dragging him out of sight and towards the woods lining the town where they would wait for the other boy.

A little over an hour later, a lone Slytherin rested against the lavish fountain adorning the center of town. His hand dug into his vest pocket, pulling out his bronze pocket watch and checked the time, turning his head left and right in search for his friend. Ominis was not one to be late— in fact, it made him quite anxious. Could he still be in Honeydukes? It was possible, the blond definitely had a sweet tooth and enough money to buy out the whole store. Standing from his perch, he began to meander his way towards the candy shop, eyes still searching the crowds for the telltale tuft of the Slytherin’s dirty blond quiff. He swallowed around the worry that constantly built in his throat whenever something seemed wrong; the lump that formed just under his jaw rarely disappeared since the events of his fifth year. The brunette’s hands began to shake at his sides, coupled with sweat beading just above his brow— the beginnings of an episode palpable in the air. Deep, shaky breaths inhaled through his mouth and filled his lungs, ebbing off his panic attack as he struggled to tell himself that his friend was fine; Rookwood and Ranrok had been defeated— there was no one else out there looking to kill them. Merlin seemed to be answering his prayers for a calm sixth year so far. Even still, his pace sped up unconsciously, his body working outside of his control. 

The Sallow boy rounded the bend on the outskirts of town, the encompassing woods just to his left as he took in all the sounds around him like a mother bear searching for her lost cub. The back entrance to Honeydukes was just barely in his sight, and a little bit more panic stabbed into his chest when he didn’t see his companion. Nearing a jog at this point, he raced the rest of the way to the stout periwinkle-hued brick building, bursting through the door and into the unusually sparse emporium, startling the few students milling about the shelves, and sped towards the front counter. The brunette frantically described his friend to the clerk behind the till, nearly begging her to say that she’d seen him recently. Much to his chagrin, the woman shook her head and told the young wizard that the blond had left at least an hour ago, sympathy dripping from her words as she hoped for his safe return to his friend. Sebastian could feel his heart leap into his throat, skipping every other beat in anxiety as he ran out the way he came, rounding back through the forest trail, shouting for his friend. Harsh breaths fell from his lips in heavy pants— his heart feeling like a stampede of buffalo under his ribs. His nerves sparked just under his skin, sending a sharp, electrifying pain to every part of his body. For a moment, the freckled boy felt like he was back in the Scriptorium, staring down the murderous, sanguine bolt of the cruciatus curse heading right towards his chest. His heart pounded against his ribs even harder— any more pressure and it would surely break his sternum. A thick, murky fog of foreboding seemed to permeate the air around him. 

“Ominis!” He called, dread slowly creeping its way into his mind, narrowing his vision and sharpening the colors around him. 

From the woods came a wretched, inhuman scream of his name, the sound of the cry like an animal trapped in a sharpened bear trap— so very panicked, so very scared. The pure, unfiltered desperation present in the voice burrowed itself deep into his very soul, sending alarm bells to ring harshly in his ears. 

“Sebastian!” 

For a moment everything stood still— his harsh, choked breaths and the cracks of his heart breaking the only noises that filled the young brunette’s ears, sending his brain to a sputtering stop. 

Ominis. 

The boy sprinted towards the tall trees, feet harshly slapping against the ground as he flicked his wand out of his sleeve. He careened around stumps, stumbling over the multitude of roots littering the ground as he ran in the direction of the voice. Sebastian shouted for his friend again, raw panic coiling in his larynx like a cobra poised to strike as he waited for a response in what was most definitely the most demented game of call and response he had ever played. It was returned mere seconds later, muffled like something was covering the caller's mouth— hoarse and crackling from overuse. He pumped his legs faster, adrenaline spilling out of his adrenal cortex as fight or flight kicked in. 

The Slytherin skidded to a halt in a wide pasture tucked away near the center of the copse, eyes narrowing and lips forming a dangerous scowl at the sight before him. In the center of the grass circle stood three poachers, a male and a female flaking the sides of the other male in the center. In the middle man's arms was a trembling Ominis, eyebrows furrowed against his scathing glare and enraged, hysteric tears building just above his lower lashes. 

“Ah, welcome! We’ve been waiting for you.” A patronizing, sugary sweet voice came from the woman to the right of the Gaunt boy— the leader, Sebastian deducted. 

Ignoring her for now, the brunette cast his gaze back to his friend and assessed him for damages. Blood dripped from his nose in a steady stream, a bruise blooming over the bridge and creeping around his right eye. He struggled against the poachers' hold, one burly arm pressed against his chest, their hand covering his mouth, and the other wrapped tightly across his waist, his arms pinned to his side. Long, lithe fingers wrapped around the forearm holding him still, digging his nails into the fleshy skin and raising crimson-colored welts. A deep bite mark screamed on the hand muffling his cries, blood pebbling to the surface— likely the reason for the dark purple and blue discoloration that marred his pale skin. Off to the side, a long, attenuated onyx wand lay just out of reach, its red beacon blinking against the browning grass as it searched for its owner. 

White hot fury streamed through Sebastian’s body— blinding wrath dyeing his vision a startling red as he raised his wand level with the kidnappers eyes. The man laughed dryly, villainous mirth dancing in his irises as he squeezed the blond tighter to his chest, drawing a pained whimper from the boy against his will— his eyes squeezing shut and forcing the tears building to streak down his cheeks from the constriction of his abdomen. A searing burning sensation prodded just under Ominis’ jaw from a wand being pressed hostilely into his neck, no doubt forming a circle shaped burn against his skin that would scar. 

The leader of the three sneered at the brunette, quipping in a condescending tone. “I’d put that wand down if I were you.” Her eyes flicked to the other boy’s hand, watching his fingers tighten around the handle of his weapon. She chuckled. “Drop it, or he’ll be sent back to his family in a snuff box.” 

Sebastian snarled at the villain with a deep, primal rage— his voice growling through his clenched teeth. “What do you want with us?” 

Ominis’ eyes snapped open once more, eyebrows raised to his hairline and lids stretched wide in shock as he recognized the sound of the brunette’s voice. He frantically shook his head at the other boy, muffled words and curses spilling from his lips in a vain attempt to get him to leave and avoid a worse fate. 

The other man stepped slightly forward, wand poised to strike at a moment's notice. “We want the kid with the ancient magic. Lead them to us and we’ll go.” A sickly grin stretched the corners of his mouth, revealing rows of decaying teeth. “We’ll keep your friend here as collateral.” 

The brunette’s wand hand shook, molars tightly clenching around the uncontrollable amounts of anger pumping through his system as a blasting curse readied itself at the tip of his tongue. He only got through half of the arm movement before his weapon was blasted from his hand with a sharp expelliarmus. Snapping his neck back towards the woman, he was greeted with the sight of a snark-filled smirk reaching from lips to cheeks— her wand slightly smoking at the end from the spell. He met her eyes across the tiny field, narrowing his scorching glare like if he stared hard enough she’d burst into flames. 

The woman wagged her wand at him like a mother scolding a child, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Now that wasn’t very nice. I’ll give you one more chance! Raise your hands above your head or you’ll be down a classmate.” 

Sebastian said nothing, his fists clenching at his side and his hackles raising upwards towards his ears as she took a step closer. A sunbeam caught her toothy smile just right, making her canines look like sharpened fangs— a wolf in sugary scented sheep's clothing. Her lips twitched as she fought against a frown, turning her wand towards a still struggling Ominis and flicking her wrist in a quick motion. A long, jagged cut appeared just under the blond’s right eye, stretching along his cheekbone and oozing blood down his porcelain face. Sebastian froze in his tracks, a look of horror taking over and shining in his eyes. He met the heated stare of the woman once more, her grin suddenly twice as evil and as sharp as laughter glowing in her irises. 

Eyes darting left and right and panic rising once again, forming a knot in his throat, the freckled boy realized he was trapped. His face was stuck in a perpetual snarl, teeth gnashing together and grinding with an audible creak as he stepped back, legs poised to run. As much as his body screamed to leave the death trap and go get help from someone who would be more equipped to handle the situation, he knew that he couldn’t leave his friend— couldn’t throw him to the wolves to be eaten bit by bit until there was nothing but gnawed on bone remaining. Sebastian truly felt like a wild animal stuck in a cage, waiting for the trapper to return and skin them alive for his pelt. Another small sound, akin to the whimper of a wounded fox, came from his captured friend, pure, unadulterated fear clouding over his eyes and sending a dagger directly into the young brunette’s heart. He knew what he needed to do, for both his survival and Ominis’. With everything within him fighting to do the opposite, the brave young wizard finally surrendered.

He slowly raised his hands, palms open and placating as they stopped just at the sides of his head. If they both wanted to get out of this alive, he had to bide his time and do as they asked. 

Taking slow, even steps towards the brunette, the woman’s grin stretched even further up her cheeks, nearing the point of unearthliness. Stopping right in front of the freckled boy, she tapped the end of her wand against the bottom of his chin, tilting his face upwards to match her gaze. Sebastian couldn’t help but think that she had some sort of otherworldly, deadly beauty about her. Her teeth were sparkling ivory, perfectly straight and sharp enough to rip out his throat if she so much as wished it. Eyes the color of absinthe met his, drawing him in like a heavy, raging current; there was something hypnotizing about them, like a solidified Amortentia potion— if he stared too long he would very likely begin to hallucinate. Her low cut shirt dangled tantalizingly from her chest, revealing briar needle sharp collarbones. Everything about her was meant to draw you in, entice and seduce you before she bit off your head like a queen praying mantis. If Sebastian didn’t know any better, he would say she was part Veela, or maybe a Siren— a creature meant to lure men to their death. She was terrifyingly gorgeous. His nostrils filled with the incredibly strong scent of madagascar vanilla and an underlying tone of coppered ichor. 

She leaned close, breath brushing against the hairs on his neck as she whispered in his ear. “Good boy.” 

His body stiffened unconsciously, savage anger and paralyzing fear waltzing together in his stomach. 

She leaned away after a moment, straightening her back and meeting his glare once again. “Now, tell me where the mutt who killed my brother is.” 

Sebastian’s eyes widened minutely, a silent moment of understanding passing between the two students before he spat in her face. “Over my dead body.” 

Molten lava bubbled under the surface of his amber irises, its ire begging to be released so it could set the whole word aflame for hurting someone he loved and threatening another. 

A pained sound came from the blond across from him, his peat-bog eyes pleading with his friend to stop, to run, to leave him and save himself. He couldn’t bear the thought of the boy dying in his stead— not when Ominis loved him much more than he loved himself. 

The woman cackled, throwing her head back in mirth and wiping the spittle from her cheek. She cracked her knuckles, raising her wand and leveling it with Sebastian’s chest. “Oh, you have no idea what I have in store for you— you’re going to wish I killed you.” 

The boy didn’t have a moment to process what she meant before he was roughly depulso’d into the closest tree, the back of his skull making contact with the coarse bark and sending a burst of blinding stars to the forefront of his mind. He tumbled to the ground as blackness began to take over his sight. The last thing he saw and heard was Ominis digging his teeth into the hand covering his mouth once again, spitting a chunk of bleeding flesh to the ground and screaming out for him. His body struggled twice as hard, desperation clawing its way into the blond’s throat. Animalistic wails filled the space around them as he fought with all his strength to get to his fallen friend. 

A loud thump silenced all sounds, and Ominis’ body crumbled to the forest floor below. 

Pain swam behind Sebastian’s eyes, nestling itself just at the front of his brain, and the world around him went dark. 

***

like what you read? here's more!