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artsybelle1015 · 2 years ago

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Not Safe Here Pt. 2

“See?” Kalim uttered to the Prefect. “He’s out of it!”

“I am not,” Jamil disagreed, he was fine, there was no reason for him to be there; he began to remember how Kalim kicked him out and forced him the ramshackle dorm. There was a glare boring into Kalim, his breath quickening from the hatred he was feeling.

Part One || Part Two

Warnings(!!!): gore, death, panic attacks, aggressiveness, SPOILERS FOR BOOK 4!!!

•••

A slow blink came about, nothing was quiet anymore, nothing was blurry anymore. He heard voices discussing. What he saw down below was a wooden ground on the verge of breaking.

Snapping his head up, Jamil eyes laid upon Kalim and the Prefect.

For some reason, he was holding a bag and so was Kalim. Everything around him had an evening glow, strange, last time he checked it was bright as day out.

Wait, how much time has passed?

A snap of fingers quickly flashed over his face, it was very loud too that it made Jamil jump, backing away. He furrowed his brows and hunched over, glaring at Kalim for scaring him like that.

“See?” Kalim uttered to the Prefect. “He’s out of it!”

Kalim backed away, seeming to be a little frightened, even the Prefect backed away.

Jamil face distorted back to numb. He did it again, he isn’t any better. Now everyone is scared of him, he will be alone forever. All he will ever be is Kalim’s servant. There’s no way he should go out into the real world anymore, all he would do is get angry and crave to abuse. He would overblot again and may never be pulled out.

Everything is unfair, he was still a complete failure. He could never look at his parents and sister again. What was the point in all of this? What was the point in his life? He can’t even serve.

Life was suppose to be him out of the spotlight, an average student, an average person.

His thoughts went silent for some time.

___

You quietly stared at Jamil sleeping on your couch.

The three ghosts and Grim were examining him as well. Grim shouting protests about him being here whilst the ghosts were thinking of activities to do as he stayed in this busted up house.

Sitting down at the table, your head began to pound, regretting the choice of bringing him in here. He wasn’t your problem, yet Kalim made you feel responsible for him even though he didn’t mean to. He kept begging and pleading, on the verge of tears for his friend. You felt obligated for sure.

When you saw Jamil about to lose it on your porch, that’s when you realized how hard this will be. He was mentally unstable.

Goddamn Crowley for not putting counselors or therapists on this god forsaken school. It wasn’t fair you were the one stuck being a therapist and caring for everyone while you were already about to break down too.

“Henchman!” hollered Grim, jumping up on the kitchen table at which you sat. “Let’s just send him to another dorm, I’m sure Azul would love to have him.”

Your nose scrunched, disgusted by that idea. Sure, they may be getting along better, but Jamil barely has in interest in Azul and was terribly annoyed with his existence, that would make Jamil lose it more. And you had already promised Kalim to take care of him, how could you break Kalim’s heart? He was a good guy towards all of you, he deserved some help especially after all he went through with the manipulation and hypnosis.

“No Grim, that’s a horrible idea,” you sighed.

“Is not?” he hissed. “That guys psycho!”

Thinking of a solution to get Grim to shut up, you decided to just bargain with the stubborn cat. “I will buy you that tuna you really wanted everyday for dinner if you suck this up.”

Grim paused, thinking on it. “Well, henchman, you think you can just bribe with me on this, how stupid you are, but I will take you up on it.” He was refusing to admit that he wanted to do it, of course. That’s how he always was.

“Okay.”

___

No. No.

He was staring down at Kalim and the Prefect. Kalim was facing down, face hidden by the ground. The Prefect was breathing heavily, bleeding out.

Staring down at his hands, they were covered in blood, their blood specifically.

The Prefect kept a whimper, tryna stand a bit to get away, but their body couldn’t budge. There was a small crack, indicating many broken bones in their body. He did this to them.

Slowly turning to Kalim, he took some shaky steps. Crouching down, he saw no movements within Kalim’s body. His heart froze.

Without much of a choice, his arm reached out and turned Kalim’s face towards him.

Still movements, time froze. What stared back at him made the world stop. Now he could feel his heart, it was pounding, trying to break free of him, probably disgusted at the monster it kept alive.

Kalim, dulls eyes stared at him; his mouth ajar, spilling blood. Pale and cold, that’s how he felt, yet the blood covering the top of his head was warm and fresh.

Backing away, Jamil saw the world speed up. Everything spun but Kalim’s body, his dead eyes staring at him.

He saw people now, staring at him in horror. Glancing to the side, he saw Azul, Jade, and Floyd broadcasting this scene, laughing their heads off. It wasn’t funny, Kalim was dead, why wouldn’t anyone do anything?

Even though everyone was a blur, their eyes weren’t, they were boring into him.

The Prefect slowly stood up, like their bones weren’t broken and had no reaction to anything. Instead, there was an exhausted yet numb look. Mimicking the one he saw in the mirror. All the Prefect did was walk to the students of Octavinelle, Jade coaxing them into a hug as they all walked away.

Soon enough, everyone walked away, like they never saw a thing. Yet, Kalim body remained there, still dead.

The world fades to black, yet him and Kalim still remained.

He killed Kalim, he killed Kalim and overblotted. How could he do this—he was a monster. Looking back down at his hands, he finally saw behind the blood how different and dried up they were, he was in overblot. How did he not see that before?

Tears began to pool in his eyes, he hated Kalim yet was grieving his death. This was unexpected yet made sense.

He was thinking maybe it was because he swore to his family he would protect the eldest son of the Asim. But no, it wasn’t that. He wasn’t upset because of his family right now, he was upset because Kalim was dead and he was dead because of Jamil, not an assassin.

Covering his face, he let out a cry.

“Jamil.” a hasty voice rang out.

Lowering his hands, his pupils shrunk in horror as he watched Kalim stand up. He still looked like a corpse, but held a smile.

Walking over to Jamil, he hugged him, nuzzling into his shoulder. He killed Kalim- but Kalim was forgiving him.

“Are you stupid?” Jamil sobbed. “I killed you.”

Kalim only looked up and smiled to him, suddenly pushing him to the ground, but instead of a thump, Jamil fell through the floor.

He couldn’t see, when he tried to open his eyes, but it was all black and stung. This was ink, ink like from his overblot.

Throat now pooled up. He started to choke, to drown. Drown in the mess he made.

If only he had stayed quiet, this wouldn’t be his fate, it wouldn’t be Kalim’s fate. Things would’ve been okay and normal. Doesn’t matter how upset Jamil was, how much he hated his life, that past was better than what was happening now.

When he felt like he was about to be dragged to hell, he suddenly landed on solid ground.

Jamil eyes shot open, quickly he sat up and coughed up ink. He was covered from head to toe with the black substance, but he noticed he was in his school uniform and warm again. He was himself.

There was standing room, the ceiling about being flowing ink that stayed in place, refusing to drip down.

He decided to get up and looks around, the ink slowly fading off his body. Everything in his body calmed down, now wanting to explore this new place. He had always wanted to explore, it was one of his dreams, but he didn’t expect a blank gray space.

Maybe this was limbo, or possibly hell. Hell was associated with being hot and burning, yet this place was cold and empty. Was it a personal hell?

Well, he thought it was empty, but the sound of wailing proved otherwise. Quickly whipping around into that direction, Jamil almost tripped from the speed.

His eyes widened. It was Kalim’s mother who was wailing like her life depended on it. She was dressed in all black and being consoled by her husband.

Next to her stood all of Kalim’s younger siblings, some crying, some staring.

But the worst sight to see, was Jamil sister and parents there too, a pained and sorrow look on their faces.

Not only had he hurt Kalim, he hurt two whole families.

Guilt wallowed up, filling him to the core. He slowly walked over, steps heavy and loud, like there was a weight trying to stop him. No, he needed to apologize to Kalim, but his body was trying to refuse.

With each step the force made it harder until Jamil crashed under it. Smacking his face against the ground and his groan in pained caught attention.

His parents specifically, looked at him while everyone else seemed to have not noticed. There faces filled with hatred, hatred for their own child. Yet, there was pity and disappointment mixed in.

Slowly, everyone faded away. And Jamil sat there, helpless, unable to move even an inch. His eyes slowly shut in exhaustion.

___

Something was vibrating against his legs, the thing felt quite soft.

He didn’t want to open his eyes, he didn’t want to see this world again, yet he had to, he had to face hell and his punishment. But he had to… he needed to know what was against his leg.

When Jamil opened his eyes, all he saw was a normal ceiling. No ink, no gray, it was a warm brown and dusty. There was a hue of orange coming from his right, he glanced over to investigate and it was a fire.

The thing against his legs was the Prefect’s friend, Grim. Strange, Grim didn’t seem like the type to do this cat—like sort of thing, he was normally aggressive.

Looking back up at the ceiling, he realized it was just a dream. A nightmare actually.

He noticed too looking around with his eyes this was most likely the ramshackle dorm, considering that Grim was next to him and the place was worn down. The couch even felt scratchy.

Despite how disgusting this environment felt, he stayed glued to the couch, forced to lay down by his own body. Just like how it was in the dream but more comfy, it had a pillow and blanket at least, and was warm.

The ramshackle, why was he here? Did Kalim actually kick him out? Stupid question to ask, obviously. Yet he doesn’t remember entering or falling asleep. In fact, he couldn’t remember much, everything would go blank and then suddenly he would appear from place to place, his mind bombarding him about his failures and how worthless and pathetic he was. He kept thinking about ending up as overblot again, he didn’t want that to happen so he would force his body to numb the emotion.

Clearly, that didn’t work in his favor, because now the days were shortened.

Creaks from floorboards could he heard. Jamil’s heart races, he wanted to get up and leave, run away, but couldn’t. He really was stuck.

The footsteps creeped closer.

He shut his eyes, not wanting to see who is there. Fearing for his life now, fearing of the look he would get. Heart was pounding the same way as the dream, wanting to escape, wanting him dead.

There was a long pause, long yet quick.

Then, all he felt was the blanket being slightly lifted and pulled up more.

He was okay?

Finally drooping his eyes open, he saw the Prefect walking away.

•••

Authors Note: I want to cry- tried to generalize the reader by going off what I felt as if most people felt playing the game plus some realism in how a person would feel in this situation, I promise the character you’re written as won’t be boring!

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wafflefries13 · 9 months ago

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Go For It, Jamil!

Summary: Scarabia hears their Vice-House Warden has a crush and are a little too enthusiastic to help out.

AN: I really like the idea that the dorm mob loves their wardens and vice wardens. It makes me think of the tsum event where all of Savanaclaw was in tears because they thought Leona got turned into a little burrito plush, lol.

I got Omar and Babkak from the Aladdin Broadway musical. There's also a Kassim there but I thought it sounded too close to Kalim so just kept it to the two of them.

Warnings: Pining. Apparently I'm really into that. AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

Spring had come to Night Raven College. With the blossoming trees, chirping birds, and returning sunshine, one thing everyone could count on was Kalim’s annual Welcome Spring party. Of course, he also had a Welcome Autumn, Welcome Winter, Welcome Summer, Farewell End-of-School-Year, Beginning of School, Halloween, New Year's Eve and Day, basically anything party. The difference here was that there were generally more flowers.

“And we can have the cherry blossom trees around the entrance of the courtyard!” Kalim was saying. Jamil dutifully followed behind him by a few steps, taking down notes for the numerous things they would need to order. “That way when the wind blows the petals will swirl everywhere and it will be super pretty!”

“MmHmm,” Jamil muttered, only halfway paying attention.

“And I was thinking the food should be fruit-themed. Blueberries, strawberries, plums, apricots, rhubarb - is rhubarb a fruit? It’s sweet but it’s like celery, right? Cause it grows in the ground in a stalk?”

“It’s a vegetable.”

“Oh, and pastels! I can get bolts of silk and we can have them hanging from the ceiling in panels and string beads between everything.”

“Sure.”

“And it’ll be the perfect backdrop when you confess to (Y/N)!”

Jamil nearly tripped over his own feet. Both of them froze at the sound of a shattering pot. Looking up, Jamil felt dread build in his stomach as a wide-eyed first-year stared at the two of them, obviously having overheard Kalim’s (obviously totally ridiculous) announcement. There was a broken flower pot at his feet.

“I-Uh-” The first-year stuttered. “Sorry, I’ll get a broom.” He dashed off like his feet were on fire.

Jamil sighed. The last thing he needed right now were rumors swirling around. “Kalim, what are you talking about?”

Kalim blinked at the retreating student before looking back at Jamil with a beaming smile. “(Y/N)! It’ll all be super romantic, right? And spring’s a time for new beginnings. We’ll have a string quartet and I’ll set up a gazebo with hanging lanterns and you can take her hands and look her in the eyes and say-”

“Okay, okay, okay!” Jamil quickly said, clapping a hand over Kalim’s mouth before another eavesdropper got the wrong idea. “You have way to clear an image of all this.”

“Of course! I think it’ll make a great story for your wedding!”

Jamil heard a gasp. He turned just in time to see the first-year from before ducking behind the corner with another in tow.

Yup. There was the headache coming.

“Kalim,” Jamil said, measuring his words as steadily as he could. “I’m not going to confess anything to (Y/N).”

Kalim pouted. “Aww, why not?”

“Because I don’t have feelings for her.”

“What? Of course you do!”

“I promise I don’t.”

“Don’t worry, she’ll definitely say yes.”

“That’s not the problem here.” Jamil sighed. “Look, I get that you have good intentions, but you don’t need to go overboard and be involved in everything. We talked about this, remember? The whole thing about boundaries?” Actually, (Y/N) had mediated that conversation a few days after Jamil’s Overblot. Is that why Kalim had become convinced they had some sort of romantic attraction? Because talking about feelings must lead to the extreme of those feelings?

Kalim looked chastened, a certain wet puppy dog look that would make most people fold instantly. Jamil was not most people. “Right, I remember. I just…” Jamil waited for Kalim to continue, silently hoping he would just drop it. “I want you to be happy, you know? And I think you’d be really happy with (Y/N)!”

Jamil looked at Kalim sideways. “It’s more of a two way street, you know.”

“Well, yeah, but (Y/N) likes you too!”

Jamil tripped over his own feet again. He felt a strange kind of dread at the way his heart skipped a beat as a warm feeling flooded his chest.

“She-what-Where did you hear that?”

Kalim shrugged, smiling coyly. “I can tell. Just like how I can tell you like her.”

“I don’t,” Jamil said firmly.

Kalim held up his hands in surrender. “I hear you! Boundaries! I won’t mention it again.” He added under his breath, “Even if I think you two would be really cute together.”

“I heard that.”

Behind them, hidden in the long shadows of the Scarabia hallways, a cluster of students were beginning to plot.

The next day, Jamil was taking some time to relax between classes. Well, as much as he could relax. Mostly his thoughts were occupied jumping between organizing for the Welcome Spring party, creating a mental schedule of what school projects were do when, planning what he would make Kalim for lunch for the next week-

“Jamil!”

He turned to see (Y/N) waving at him. He felt his heart start thumping rapidly in his chest. Stop it, He thought. I can’t let Kalim get in my head like that.

“Hi,” She said, coming up to him.

“Did you need something?”

“Not really. Just saw you over here stuck in your own head again.” She elbowed him playfully. Jamil felt himself smile without realizing it and quickly schooled his features to a more serious expression. “Want to take a break? I snagged these cookies from Sam’s. Tomorrow’s the expiration date so I got them on sale.”

Jamil wrinkled his nose. “Is it worth it?”

(Y/N) shrugged, taking a bite of a cookie. “It’s in the budget. You know, whenever Crowley actually decides to pay me.”

“You know, if you’re ever short on food you can always come to Scarabia. If Kalim’s not throwing another party with a buffet I can get you something. I always make extras for Kalim, anyway.” This was not entirely true. Jamil had had practically his entire life to get used to cooking for Kalim, and it was only recently that he had started making larger batches, packaging them up to deliver to a certain magicless prefect who’s nutritional health he definitely didn’t worry about.

(Y/N) smiled and offered him the cookie bag. “You look after everyone all the time, don’t you?”

Jamil smiled back and took a cookie. They sat in an alcove in the hallway, chatting about nothing of significance. Jamil told a story about how Floyd had insisted Jamil teach him how to spin on his head during basketball practice and (Y/N) told him stories of her recent trip to Harveston, Epel’s hometown, and the sled race against the surprise Royal Sword Academy students.

Jamil saw movement out of the corner of his eye, but whatever it was disappeared before he could catch it. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Oh, about the stuffed animals. Sebeck won’t admit it, but I think he still has his squirrel plush in his room. I don’t think it’s magic anymore but it is really cute.”

Jamil heard the drag of a bow on strings and looked around.

(Y/N) frowned. “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

Jamil shook his head. “No, sorry, I’m fine. I thought I heard-”

Music started to pour around them. Although it was the calming, one might almost say romantic, type, they both still jumped at the sudden noise. Jamil jumped up, looking around, and took a hit of sunflower petals directly to his face.

“Omar!” Someone hissed. “Be careful!”

“Sorry, Babkak,” A voice squeaked back.

Wait, Jamil knew those voices. He whipped around the corner, seeing a group of Scarabia first-years. Several formed a string quartet, softly playing music. The other two had a bucket of flower petals, one of them throwing handfuls in the air while the other directed a zephyr spell to blow them across the hallway. The two froze with wide eyes at the sight of their Vice-House Warden.

“What,” Jamil said, voice steely and arms crossed. “Are you doing?”

The string players looked nervously at each other but continued to play. Omar gapped like a codfish. Babkak stood up straight with a confident smile. “We’re setting the mood!”

“What mood?” “For your confession!”

Oh. Oh, no. Now Jamil realized how he recognized them. Babkak was the one who dropped the flower pot yesterday and Omar was the one he had dragged with him to eavesdrop. They must have heard what Kalim had said yesterday about him and (Y/N) and taken the wrong idea. And, Jamil justified to himself, it was definitely the wrong idea.

“Jamil?”

Jamil turned so fast the first-years were momentarily worried about whiplash. (Y/N) stood at the corner, looking curiously at the impromptu band and flowers. Behind him, Jamil could hear them hastily whispering to each other to keep playing and trying to get the effect of floating flower petals just right.

“Something going on?” She asked.

“No!” Jamil said, perhaps a little too quickly. “They were just leaving.” He glared at the first-years. “After they clean this up.”

(Y/N) took a step forward. Jamil felt his mouth go dry as she reached up and plucked a few stray yellow petals from his hair. “Is this for a botany project or something? Kind of romantic, huh?”

Jamil felt his face burn with embarrassment.

“No!” Jamil said, at the same time Babkak said, “Yes!”

“Okay,” (Y/N) said, rolling closed the half-full bag of cookies. “Well, I should probably get going. I need to see what kind of trouble Grim has gotten into while I was gone. I’ll see you later, Jamil.” She waved to him and then the first-years.

“What made you think this was a good idea?” Jamil asked, trying very hard not to yell, when (Y/N) was out of earshot.

“Sorry, sir,” Omar said, dejectedly picking up flower petals. He glared up at Babkak. “I told you we should have gone for the romantic dinner. And rose petals, not sunflowers.”

Babkak waved his friend off. “Don’t be so cliche. Besides, sunflowers are way better! They’re pretty and you can eat the seeds!”

“Hey!” Jamil snapped. The two boys looked back up at him while the other first-years were trying to discreetly pack up their instruments. “I asked what you were doing? Did Kalim put you up to this?”

“No, sir, this was all us!” Babkak said, a little too proudly. “We wanted to help.” “Yeah,” Omar said. “We’re all rooting for you, Vice-House Warden, sir!” The other first-years made noises of agrement.

“Rooting for me?”

“With (Y/N), to tell her you love her!”

Jamil groaned, covering his eyes with his hand and rubbing his temples. “I am not in love with the Prefect.” Jamil missed the skeptical look the two gave each other. “Look, I appreciate the…vote of confidence, but I’m not going to confess anything to anyone any time soon. So whatever else you have planned, or whoever else you told this rumor to, you can give it a break. Understand?”

“Yes, Vice-House Warden,” They all echoed dutifully.

As Jamil marched away, Omar leaned over to Babkak. “I’ve got twenty madol that say he confesses before the spring party.”

Jamil’s muscles were burning, and he welcomed it. He needed the distraction after this morning and basketball practice against Floyd in full force was a pretty good diversion. Ace had been uncharacteristically distracted all practice. Although Jamil couldn’t help but notice that Ace seemed to pass a little harder than necessary.

During a water break, Ace came up to Jamil. He tossed his water bottle between his hands, taking a step away and then closer.

Jamil knew he would regret it before he even asked, “What’s up, Ace?”

Ace startled, surprised Jamil had made the first move. “I heard something,” He said. “In potions class today.”

“Did someone blow up something again? Anyone get turned into an animal or something?”

Ace pressed his lips together. “Do you like (Y/N)?”

Jamil couldn’t decide whether to be exhausted, flustered, or annoyed. “Who told you that?”

Ace’s eyes widened in shock. “You do?!”

“No!” Jamil snapped back. “People are just going around spreading rumors.”

“Huh?” Floyd asked, sliding over on the bleachers. “I thought everyone knew already.”

“Knew?”

Floyd flashed his sharp teeth. “Come on, Sea Snake. Everyone knows you’re, what’s the land term? Head over heels for Shrimpy.”

Ace dropped his water bottle and jabbed an accusatory finger at Jamil. “I knew it!”

“You don’t know anything,” Jamil said, shoving Ace’s hand aside.

“Oh?” Floyd said, leaning in a little too close. “So that means she’s available then?”

“No!” Ace and Jamil both shouted at the same time. Ace glared at Jamil. A few other members of the basketball club glanced over, snickering to themselves at the outburst.

Ace puffed out his chest, planting himself solidly in front of Jamil. “Look, (Y/N) is one of my best friends. And if you do anything to mess with her then… then…” Ace fumbled, running out of steam with his threats before catching his second wind. “Then you’ll have to deal with Jack!”

Jamil crooked an eyebrow. “Jack? Not you or Deuce?”

Ace shrugged. “Jack’s the biggest. But Deuce did used to be a delinquent. I’ve seen him be pretty brutal when he wants to. And I guess Epel can scrap up too, when Vil isn’t around. Probably couldn’t convince Sebeck to help out, he’d just lecture about a knight’s honor or something. Ooh, Ortho had a blast cannon! So, you know, watch out!”

“I like how you didn’t put yourself in the line of fire there, Crabby,” Floyd said. He rolled his shoulders. “But you know, I think Shrimpy is pretty great, too. I don’t want to see her sad or anything. So if someone were to maybe break her heart,” He glanced sideways as Jamil with crazed wide eyes. “Can you swim, Sea Snake?”

Jamil just glowered back at him. “Can everyone just stop talking about (Y/N) today?”

“People are talking about me?” All three of them jumped. (Y/N) walked into the gym, Grim hanging off her shoulders. “I thought I felt my ears burning.”

“Shrimpy!” Floyd immediately ran up to her, sweeping her up in a tight squeezing hug. Grim jumped off her shoulders with a yelp. Ace yelled and pulled at Floyd’s jersey, trying to pry them apart.

(Y/N) weakly patted Floyd’s back with a free hand. “Hi, Floyd, hi, Ace. Sorry, I need Jamil real quick.”

The two boys froze, slowly turning their heads to stare at Jamil, who was busy hiding his face in his hands. They watched like hawks as (Y/N) walked over to Jamil.

“Hey,” She said. “You okay?”

“Fine,” He said, waving her off. “Just one of those days, you know?”

She frowned. “You need me to talk to someone? I can chew out Ace if you want. Floyd is sort of out of my league, though.”

Jamil sighed a laugh. “No, that’s fine.”

“Oh! Right! Hang on.” She slung her backpack off her shoulder, reaching in and pulling out a familiar water bottle. “Here, you left this in the library. One of the Scarabia first-years found it and asked me to bring it to you.”

“Oh, thanks. I was wondering where it was.” Jamil didn’t mention that he hadn’t been in the library at all today. As he reached to take it, their fingers brushed. Jamil grabbed the bottle and jerked back like he had been scorched. His heart was hammering, not from the exercise of basketball practice, and he was momentarily worried (Y/N) would be able to hear it. Not to mention if she would notice how clammy his hands had suddenly become.

“Well,” (Y/N) said. “I guess I’ll get out of your hair-”

“Wait!”

The entire basketball team, plus (Y/N) and Grim, turned to the sudden outburst. Babkak had half way thrown himself out of the doorway entrance to the gym, hand extended in a Stop motion. Omar guilty peaked out from the door frame.

“Uh, I mean,” Babkak said, back peddling.

“You should stay!” Omar jumped in. “I mean, we should all stay to watch practice! Support your local team and everything!” He weakly punched the air. “Go team?”

Jamil opened his mouth to chastise them again before (Y/N) spoke, “That sounds fun. I don’t get to see you guys play too often. If that’s okay with you, though.”

“Oh, um,” Jamil stuttred.

Floyd jumped up, throwing himself over Jamil’s shoulders and smiling wide. “Of course you can stay! You can watch Sea Snake show off!”

Jamil elbowed him. “You’re the one who shows off, Floyd.”

(Y/N) shrugged, smiling. (And Jamil definitely didn’t feel his heart flip.) “I don’t have any plans.”

As everyone got back in position for practice, Ace took his place, whispering to Jamil, “Remember: Ortho has a laser cannon.”

Jamil rolled his eyes.

From the corner of his eye, Jamil saw the group of Scarabia first-years shuffle into the bleachers around (Y/N) and Grim. He thought he saw a few of them hiding objects behind their backs, but was pulled back to the game before he could investigate further.

He lost himself back in the game. Sneakers squeaked against the waxed wooden floor, the bounce of the ball reverberated around the gym, each quick and practiced movement by the players blurring at the edge of Jamil’s vision. Another player passed him the ball. He faked left, turning around Floyd, before lining up a shot at the three point line. He raised the ball, arms tensing in preparation to shoot and-

A blare of sound echoed through the gym, bouncing off the acoustic walls and tumbling down around everyone in attendance. The ball slipped from Jamil’s hands, falling uselessly in a pathetic arc and bouncing across the court floor. Jamil turned to the bleachers where the noise had come from. The first-years, Jamil now recognized them as the string quartet from earlier, now made up a brass band. The noise he had heard was the blast from a tuba. The rest of the band joined in, trumpets, french horn, and bugle. They started playing a high-energy marching tune. How many instruments did these people know how to play anyway? Omar and Babkak had red and yellow pom poms, waving them enthusiastically. Babkak passed a pair to a bewildered (Y/N).

“Go, Vice-Housewarden Jamil!” Babkak cheered.

“Show them who’s boss, sir!” Omar whooped.

Everyone froze, looking from the impromptu cheering section and band to Jamil then back again. Jamil’s face felt as hot as the Scalding Sands desert at noon. It didn’t help at all when Floyd started cackling.

He began to march over to confront his dorm mates, again, when a new echoing sound made him pause. (Y/N) had thrown her head back in laughter. She stood, waving the pom poms above her head.

“Go, Jamil, go!” She cheered.

Jamil was pretty sure he was going to spontaneously combust at any second.

The rest of practice had been a disaster. Every time Jamil got the ball the bleachers would erupt in noise, distracting him and everyone else trying to play. Jamil had never felt so off his game, fumbling the ball, bumping into his teammates, and losing focus at every moment that mattered, and most of the ones that didn’t, too. He purposely avoided turning in the direction of the cheering squad, partially because he wanted to discourage whatever activities the first-years were insistent on doing, and partially so he didn’t have to see (Y/N) cheer for him so enthusiastically. (And, maybe, so she wouldn’t be able to see how flustered he was becoming with every second.)

A teammate had patted Jamil’s shoulder in sympathy as they headed to the showers after practice. “Don’t worry,” He said. “I bet she still likes you.”

Jamil resisted the urge to punch him.

Now, at least, he was back in a rhythm of something he knew how to do: cooking. Ever since his stint in the Culinary Crucible, the ghost chefs had tapped him and a few other stand out cases to help out in the kitchen every once and a while.

The kitchen filled with the scent of roasting spices and sizzling meat, spilling out into the cafeteria sitting area. Students had started lining up way before the kitchen officially opened to secure their plate of Jamil’s cooking. Jamil felt the tension melt out of his shoulders, much like the butter in the pan he was currently using, as he fell into his familiar rhythms.

“Thanks again for your help,” One of the ghost chefs said, floating by with a steaming bowl of freshly made turmeric rice.

“Not a problem,” He replied. “It gets me out of my own head.”

“Oh?” Another ghost asked. “Having troubles, youngster?”

“Girl troubles, maybe?” Another snickered.

All the ghosts jumped as Jamil brought down a butcher knife to decapitate a fish. They collectively decided it was maybe best to drop the topic, already deceased or not.

“Ah, Jamil, chef, sir?” A student volunteer said, warily eyeing the butcher knife. “Someone was having an issue with their meal. They wanted to talk to you.”

So much for his relaxation. Jamil quickly let the others know what to keep an eye on in the kitchen and headed out to the main sitting area. He scanned the tables. It looked like everyone was enjoying their food as far as he could tell. He looked back into the window of the kitchen. The volunteer student pointed at a table near the back by a window. He was about half way across the room when he realized that the student was a Scarabia student, a first-year in fact. And, now that he thought of it, he didn’t think he had seen that student in the kitchen before he had come to talk to Jamil.

Jamil froze, seeing exactly who was sitting at the indicated table. This was a set up. He turned around to go back, only to be stonewalled by two now very familiar Scarabia students.

“Hello, sir!” Omar chirped.

“Taking your dinner break?” Babkak asked. “Great! We have the perfect table for you.”

They both hooked their arms around Jamil’s and practically dragged him over to the table where (Y/N) and Grim sat.

“Oh, hi,” She said, blinking at the surprise arrival. Jamil felt his throat tighten and couldn’t formulate a response.

The musically talented first-years descended to the table, quickly picking up her plate of food to whisk a tablecloth over the table, setting down a candelabra which was quickly lit, and a vase with a dozen roses.

“Roses,” Omar whispered to Babkak with a sly smile. Babkak rolled his eyes. The two shoved Jamil into a seat opposite (Y/N). A plate of food was set in front of him. The sneaky Scarabia student from the kitchen grabbed Grim, shoving a plate of tuna tartare in his paws before he could protest. Then, the group of wannabe restaurateurs vanished as quickly as they had appeared. The two left at the table, Jamil and (Y/N), looked at eachother with confusion. Jamil dropped his head to stare intently at his plate, stabbing at the sayadieh with his fork.

“Hey,” Jamil was jerked out of his thoughts by (Y/N)’s voice. “I wanted to apologize for earlier, at practice. It looked like we were a pretty big distraction.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Jamil said. “It wasn’t your fault.” He glared at the first-years eagerly watching from a table a safe distance away.

“Yeah, but still, I don’t need to make your life any harder.”

Jamil looked up at her. She was twirling her spoon around the tabouli, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. “You don’t make my life harder,” he insisted. “In fact, you’ve made a lot of things easier. My relationship with Kalim is a lot better now, for one thing.”

She smiled at him, and his heart definitely didn’t skip a beat. “Well, glad I can help, then. But don’t sell yourself short. You’ve been doing a lot of work since everything that happened.” She waved her hand, regarding the invisible thing they both understood. It was still hard to talk directly about his Overblot, the manipulation, abuse of magic, and kidnapping aside. (Y/N) had told him she wanted to give him space for it, to consider how he felt and talk to others at his own pace, but still trying to address the root of the issues. That was when she had started organizing those sessions between her, Jamil, and Kalim, giving them a place to directly talk with each other without outside pressures and influences, helping them work things together as friends instead of the master/servant role Jamil so often felt himself confided to.

“This is great, by the way,” (Y/N) interjected, scooping up a mouthful of tabouli. “I can always tell when it’s your cooking. Thanks for those leftovers the other day. I know Grim really likes them too.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” He said. He didn’t say, “I didn’t make it for Grim. I made it for you.” He blanched at the intrusive thought and snatched up his water glass, taking a large gulp and trying not to choke.

“You sure you’re okay?” (Y/N) asked. “You’ve seemed kind of on edge all day.”

“I’ll deal with it later,” Jamil said, looking over at the first-years who started enthusiastically nodding and giving him thumbs-up.

(Y/N) drummed her fingers against the table. “Listen, actually, there’s been something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about-”

“Lgeimat!” Jamil shouted.

She blinked at him. “Sorry?”

“The lgeimat! I left them in the fryer! Sorry, have to go, have a good night!” Jamil shot up and zipped back to the safety of the kitchen.

“I didn’t know we were having lgeimat tonight,” Omar said from their spying perch.

Babkak thudded his head on the table at their third defeat. “We’re not.” He grumbled.

Jamil collapsed on the low couches in the Scarabia common room, arm flung across his face to cover his eyes from the late evening light. The day felt like it went on forever. Jamil had caught himself constantly looking over his shoulder, jerking at every unexpected sound, in anticipation of an over eager group of first-years.

“Hi, Jamil-Oh,” Kalim stopped himself, looking over at his drained friend. “You okay?”

Jamil sighed in response. “Long day.”

“Oh.” Kalim sat down next to him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jamil peered out from under his arm at Kalim. At least that was one improvement, again, thanks to (Y/N) specific intervention. Kalim had slowly been teaching himself not to jump to conclusions or take it upon himself to fix everything by throwing money or extravagance at it, but by taking the time to hear other people, namely Jamil, out first. Of course, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t throw money or extravagance at the problem in the end, but progress was progress.

Jamil gave Kalim a halfhearted glare. “It’s all thanks to that rumor you started.”

Kalim blinked. “Rumor? Oh, you mean about how you’re in love with-”

“Yes!” Jamil cut him off, sitting bolt upright. “That! Some first-years heard you the other day and have been following me around, trying to start up some grand romantic gesture.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard about that. I think it’s sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“That everyone believes in you! Everyone knows how hard you work. We all want to see you happy and with the person you love.”

Jamil stood. “Kalim, I’m not-”

“Nope.” Kalim said shooting up. He put his hands on the taller boy’s shoulders, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You’ve been different ever since winter break. You smile more when (Y/N)’s around. You’re not so tense all the time. And whenever we’re in a group, like at the cafeteria or dorm meetings or parties, you’re always looking for her. And when you see her your whole face just lights up! Do you know how often you talk about her? It’s a lot, Jamil! ‘Oh, I wonder what (Y/N) would think about this. Do you think (Y/N) has that in her world? Do you think (Y/N) likes spicy or sweet food? Do you think (Y/N)’s doing okay at Ramshackle? Do you think she needs help with any repairs like when we stayed there during VDC training? (Y/N) sure works real hard to catch up with a whole new culture. Do you think (Y/N) would want this extra curry?’”

“I don’t sound like that,” Jamil protested weakly.

Kalim sighed, hands on his hips. “I’ve known you my whole life. I know what you’re like when you’re mad, I know what you’re like when you’re sad, I know what you’re like when you’re happy, and now I know what you’re like when you’re in love.”

Jamil pushed back. “I’m not in love with her!”

“Yes, you are!”

“I’m not-” Jamil cut himself off. He felt suddenly dizzy. He sat down hard. “Oh, I’m in love with her.”

Kalim threw his hands in the air. “Yes! Thank you! Finally!”

“But,” Jamil continued, and Kalim tried really hard to keep his frustration to himself. “I can’t tell her that. I can’t… put that kind of pressure on her. She has enough going on with Grim and Ramshackle and trying to find a way home and… Sevens, she’s going back home, Kalim! I don’t know when or how, but she won’t even be in this universe! And what, I’m just supposed to show up and dump this emotional baggage on her when she already has everything else to worry about?”

Kalim sat down next to Jamil. He twirled his fingers together, trying to collect his thoughts. Why was it always so hard to know the right thing to say? “You said feelings were like a two way street yesterday, remember? So don’t you think (Y/N) should have a say too?”

“Kalim, I can’t-”

“Yes you can!” Kalim shouted, jumping up and clapping his hands. “You’re Jamil Viper! If anyone can do it, can do anything, it’s you! And keeping everything bottled up isn’t fair to you or her or anyone. So-So-” Kalim frowned, trying to look stern, a very strange expression for the normally boisterous boy. “So go tell her how you feel right now, and let her decide what happens next! That’s an order as your house warden!” Kalim flinched. “Please.”

Jamil stared at him for just a second too long, making Kalim squirm with worry that he had gone too far. Then, Jamil sighed, resigned, a half smile on his face. “Well, if my house warden is ordering it, how can I say no?”

Despite what he had told Kalim, Jamil dreaded every step towards Ramshackle dorm. Even with the ‘order’ from his house warden, Jamil considered turning back. Instead, with each uncertain step, he plotted out exactly what he would say. Was it just as simple as ‘I have feelings for you?’ Should he have some grand gesture ready? Absolutely not. Those first-years had spoiled that concept for him.

Before he realized it, Jamil was walking up the pathway to the dilapidated dorm. He stood at the front step, fist up ready to knock. It hovered there. A plan, he still needed a plan. He couldn’t just walk in without a plan of what to say, what to do. He’d had the entire walk over here, how had he not come up with a more solid idea?

The door snapped open in front of him, Grim hurdling out, crashing into Jamil’s chest. “What-? Oh, hey!” Grim said, rubbing his head at the bump then cracking into a wide smile at the sight of Jamil. “Did you bring us dinner again?”

“Uh, no, not this time,” Jamil said, already thrown off.

Grim frowned. “Meh, whatever. I’m going to Sam’s anyway to get some tuna.”

“Milk and eggs!” (Y/N)’s voice called from inside. “You’re getting milk and eggs! And oranges if they have any.”

“That too!” Grim said. He winked then sped off down the path.

(Y/N) appeared at the doorway, clearly having sprinted to catch the dire beast before he left. “Grim, I said we don’t have the budget to- Oh, he’s gone. Right, sure, why not?” She sighed. “Hi, Jamil.”

Jamil swallowed hard. “Should I come back later?”

(Y/N) waved the idea off. “No, it’s fine, you’re already here. Come on in.”

Jamil followed her into the dorm to the sitting room just past the entrance hall. Despite the age and wear of the building, it was clear that (Y/N) had taken a lot of pride in fixing it up and keeping everything in order.

“Sorry, I was in the middle of doing dishes,” (Y/N) said, whipping her wet and slightly soapy hands against her skirt. “Go ahead and take a seat, I’ll get some tea and snacks.”

“It’s fine,” Jamil said, quickly standing back up after having just sat down on one of the overstuffed couches. “I know where everything is, I’ll get it.”

“No, no, you’re a guest. Take a break, I’ll get it.”

“It’s fine really. I’m sure Crowly has been keeping you busy all day.”

“And you’re just as busy. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

“No, really, I-”

“Jamil!” Jamil jumped at her sudden outburst, his hands frozen in the air. She huffed and put her hands on her hips. “Honestly. You take care of everyone else all the time. Let me take care of you for once.”

Oh no. Oh no.

“Now sit down while I go make some tea.”

He sat down. This was worse than he thought. He really was in love.

She wanted to take care of him. Of him. When was the last time someone offered to take care of him, to lighten his load, to take responsibility for the burden? For as long as Jamil could remember that had been his job, his life. Kalim, Najma, his parents, the Scarabia students, everyone and everything. It was like he didn’t realize just how tired he was until (Y/N) offered to help. Why did her snapping at him just now make him feel so relieved?

Almost without thinking about it, Jamil’s feet took him into the kitchen. (Y/N) was standing at the stove, setting down a heavy teapot on the burner. She was mumbling to herself about something, Jamil couldn’t really hear what. His ears were ringing.

(Y/N) noticed that Jamil had come into the kitchen, turning to face him. She frowned, eyebrows knit together. “Jamil, I told you that - Oh!”

Ignoring his anxiety, ignoring that nagging thought that he didn’t have a plan, ignoring the churning nervousness in his stomach, Jamil pulled (Y/N) into a tight hug, burning his face in her hair.

“I like you,” He said, so softly that he had to repeat himself to make sure she heard, to make sure she understood the depth of his feelings. “I like you. I think I might even- I feel better when I’m with you, like I can be better. I don’t feel like everything I’ve done up until now is just in service to someone else, because all of those things lead me to meeting you. I feel like I can think clearly, that I don’t always have to be on alert. I want to take care of you, I want to be with you, I want us to be together. And I know - I know I’ve done horrible things in the past, I know you’ve seen me at my lowest. But you still see me, me, not anything else. Not the servant, not the diplomatic aid, not the Overblot monster- How could I not fall in love with you? So, (Y/N), please. I just - please.” He wasn’t quite sure what he was asking ‘please’ for, he only hoped she would understand.

(Y/N) trailed her fingers along his back, threading through his long hair. She pulled back, as much as Jamil’s embrace would allow. The corners of her eyes were dotted with tears. “Jeeze, Jamil,” (Y/N) said. “Way to steal my thunder. I wanted to say it first.”

Jamil let out a cracked laugh, tears welling up in his own eyes. “You did?”

(Y/N) hiccuped, laughing. “Yeah, of course. I thought I was being kind of obvious with it. I finally decided to suck it up and tell you at dinner earlier, but you just ran away so I thought you knew what I was going to say and didn’t feel the same.”

“Sorry, I guess I was nervous. And those first-years all day…”

(Y/N) laughed out loud. “I was wondering what was up with that. Was that Kalim or something?”

“For once, no. They took it upon themselves to try and set us up.”

“Aww, they care about you.” She hugged him close. “And I can see why.”

That weekend, it was finally time for the Welcome Spring party, and there were, indeed, more flowers than usual. Kalim was flitting around, making sure everything was organized and where it needed to be. Jamil had asked if he could leave for the morning, coming back when it was time for the party to start. And, even though he had been the one to ask for the time off, Jamil had double checked that it was okay with Kalim no less than a dozen times before he actually left. Kalim insisted repeatedly that he would be fine, that he had a handle on everything. And, maybe, for the most part he did. It definitely helped that Jamil had assigned tasks to several other dorm members the night before to make sure Kalim didn’t get too overwhelmed.

Just as the golden hour set in, magical floating lanterns bobbing along in the air amid swirling flower petals, the guests started to arrive. Kalim had sent out a recommended dress code ahead of time, requesting pastels, whites, and gold. Something to fit in with the refreshing and floral mood he wanted to create. Mostly, he was happy to report, everyone was able to follow the requirements. Heartslabyul students especially were rigidly adhering to the dress code under the watchful eye of their house warden. Most of them wore pinks, as it was the required color when taking care of the dorm flamingos so they already had something that would fit the theme. Savannaclaw didn’t much stick to theme, but had tried to comply with sticking puffy peony blossoms through belt loops or behind their ears. Octavinelle wore light blues and corals, studded with shimmering scales, pearls, and other bits of underwater flora. Scarabia, of course, as the hosts, were the most bejeweled, taking inspiration from the fairy gala that had inadvertently plunged the campus into chaos, but also resulted in beautiful flowing white and gold garments. Pomfiore stayed mostly in lavenders and lilacs, highlighted by golden embroidery in fantastic scenes and shapes. Ignihyde, for those who did show up, dug out whatever was the lightest color in their wardrobe, mostly staying in light blues. Similarly, no one was expecting much from the usually dour-toned Diasomnia. But, not wanting to create a social fopaux at one of the few events he had received an invitation to, thanks to (Y/N) reminding Kalim to expand his guest list at the last minute, Malleus had ensured that all his dorm members wore mint and emerald green with gold dotted throughout.

There was a noticeable absence of two usually prominent figures, but Kalim assured everyone Jamil and (Y/N) would be arriving soon. And, although Jamil had tried to slip in quietly while everyone’s attention was focused on the dance floor for an aerial ribbon performance, Kalim’s squeal of delight quickly diverted everyone’s attention. Jamil held in a groan as attention whirled to him and (Y/N). They both wore outfits from the fairy gala, meticulously designed and created by Professor Crewel. She squeezed his hand in support, dragging him further in, head held high while ignoring the stares. A few Scarabia students gave congratulations, thumping Jamil’s back as he passed. Ace caught Jamil’s eye from the other side of the room. He pointed to Ortho, who was waving excitedly, and drew a finger across his throat. Jamil rolled his eyes.

As the aerial dancers finished, (Y/N) drew Jamil to the dance floor. As a band kicked up (seriously, how many instruments did those Scarabia students know how to play?), (Y/N) wrapped her arms around Jamil’s neck as he placed his hands on her hips. He really hoped she wouldn’t notice how sweaty his palms had gotten.

“You’re nervous,” (Y/N) said. “I’m not used to seeing you like that.”

“I’ve just never really done this before,” Jamil said. “Not dancing, I’ve done that plenty. Just the whole relationship thing. I never really had a chance before. I don’t want to mess this up.”

“I think you’ve been doing pretty good so far.”

Jamil smirked. “It’s been two days.”

“Well, see? You’re gaining experience already.” She leaned forward, placing her head on his chest. “I’m nervous, too, you know. Not about this. I’m really confident how I feel about you, and I want to stay with you for as long as I can. I mean about everything going on around us. There’s a lot of unknown. Technically, you know, I don’t even exist. Don’t have any papers like a birth certificate or passport or even a valid nationality. But I know I have great people helping me out, including you. And knowing they’re on my side, it helps make things a little better. And I’m on your side. So everything will work out, you know?”

Jamil hummed. Lowley, in a quiet voice so he could dismiss it if she didn’t hear him, he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

(Y/N) looked up at him, smiling, eyes twinkling. “I’d like that.”

Off to the side, behind a bolt of silk cloth, Babkak handed Omar a 20 madol note.

#wafflefriesfic #fanfic #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #jamil x reader #jamil x yuu #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper #fan fiction

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bibiblocksberg1234 · 6 days ago

Text

…….

I was speechless.

The effort. The dedication. I love it!!! Of course Idia would make a 3-minute animation of all the NRC boys as a side project while working on the plan to beat Malleus.

Bonus: Vil’s reaction

The moment I saw the video I was waiting for Vil’s reaction and he didn’t disappoint:

#gotta respect the effort idia put into this #does this mean idia has a drawing hobby #how did he have the designs ready #why do I feel he really has been making fan fiction of the other boys #still impressive #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #idia shroud #twst spoilers #twst idia #vil schoenheit #twst vil #twst book 7

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saikira999 · 11 months ago

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~ Dear Photography

Annotation: Yuu dragged him to be photographed with daisies :)

Tags: Friendship, a little bit of love, tsundere.

Attention! English is not my native language, and if you find errors in the text, please write about it in the comments.

+ In My native language, the words "Dear" and "Expensive" are considered the same word and look the same (Dorogoi). In the original language, this plays into the plus of fan fiction, but in the English translation, the meaning breaks down a lot.

Just remember:

Dear = Expensive

(Below I will also provide a version in the original language)

Pouting his lips displeasedly, Azul shrank a little incredulously, quietly wrapping his tentacles under the water around a small island with daisies overgrown on it, as if for safety. Having unsuccessfully tried to blow away a silver strand of wet hair that had fallen right into his eye, from his face He squinted slightly. Aschengrotto was definitely too used to life on land...

Yuu, who was standing nearby, barefoot, with her pants slightly pulled up to her knees, was fiddling with her bag as if trying to find something. Watching Her from the side, the octomer was silent for a while, looking at Her search either with boredom or with slight irritation.

- Prefect, let me ask... - As if out of habit, turning on His “Aschengrotto” style of a businesslike, insinuating conversation to the point of gritting his teeth, He began, straightening his lock of hair. “First, you barbarously pulled Me out of the office, tearing me away from business, then dragged me to the shore. ... - Azul slouched slightly, and his black shoulders, shining in the sun, noticeably tensed, while long thin fingers with black nails anxiously twirled and kneaded one winding curl near his sharp left cheek - Forced me to take... This form... - Shrinking, the tentacles tightened around and squeezed the stone-looking sides of the island, as if thinking of crushing it - And I’m afraid to ask what you will demand from Me now...

- Flower.

- .....What?

Raising an eyebrow, Azul straightened up a little and looked at Yuu, who was unsuccessfully shaking out the contents of the bag onto the green, slightly crumpled grass, trying to find something inside. Pens, pencils, chewing gum, candy bars and who knows how the Grim fur got there (Again this damn cat sleeps on the first thing that came)... - Take the flower. - Yuu repeats in a casual tone.

- For what? - Now, Azul raises both eyebrows, and a pair of large black and purple tentacles peer out of the water with curiosity, as if wanting to understand the essence of the demand.

- Take the flower and don’t freak out, senpai... - Grumbles in a friendly manner, Yuu freezes for a moment and slaps his palm on his forehead.

Throwing the bag aside, She unzips her light jacket a little and takes hold of the angular old camera hanging on Her chest.

Realizing what was happening, Azul only became more embarrassed, and reluctantly suppressing the desire to hide from Yuu under water, he crossed his arms on his damp chest, tapping his finger on his forearm.

- I hope you know what you are doing... And that it will not cost you free....

- I know. Now, take a flower. - Yuu just shrugs, removing the cap from the camera and preparing it for work.

- If speak openly, it will cost you very dearly.

- Since when does a photographer pay?

- This is your idea, My dear prefect. - Sighing a little in disappointment, Azul leaned his elbow on the island, which was a little prickly because of the sand and grass, resting his sharp chin in his palm - I know about your interest in photographs, but I don’t think that this octopus is suitable for your collection... And it will also be expensive .... Did I talk about this...?

-You don’t like being photographed that much, senpai? - Raising a curious glance at her friend’s dissatisfied pale muzzle for a second, Yuu continued tinkering with the camera

- It’s not that I don’t like... - He turned away, slowly, as if lazily crawling his gaze over the white tops of daisies - You yourself know the reasons... And also, you know that this will be an expensive photograph.

- But she will be My favorite.

Octomer was silent.... He frowned in disbelief again...

- "Favorite"...?

- The most favorite.

- And expensive.

- And expensive... In every sense.

- I talked about the price. You and your pesky furrball won't eat for a week!

- Are you trying to intimidate Me with the price tag, senpai? Hehe, I think we'll come to an agreement.

- There’s no point in even negotiating here, my dear prefect. I can leave You right now!

- And miss the opportunity to get money so easily and quickly? You're losing your grip, senpai. - Yuu grinned, coming closer, stepping on the soft grass and warm sand.

- Do you REALLY want to have a photo of Me as a merfolk? - Azul hissed, ashamed and anxious - Why?

- Because You are very handsome in Your true form, of course! - With difficulty holding back a giggle, Yuu grinned softly - And I decided to take photographs of all the people dear to Me before the headmage returns Me back to My world... - Turning away and frowning slightly, Yuu wrinkled her nose and quietly grumbled - If this beak-nosed dork even remembers My existence....

It was as if Azul had received a blow to the head from Floyd (comparable to being hit with a sledgehammer)... Did she just call his octomer shape beautiful? Is he a dear person to Her??? His eternally spinning somewhere nearby, constantly getting into trouble, but still damn it, will his DEAR colleague one day leave Him and return to his native world??????

....Oh, the great seven, He forgot about it....

While Azul, who had funnyly raised his tentacles, was recovering from silent shock, mixed at the same time with embarrassment and anxiety slowly growing in his soul, Yuu herself picked a flower and handed it to Azul, grinning widely.

- Take it!

Focusing his gaze again and batting his white eyelashes in surprise, the slightly red Azul paused, but still slowly took the flower from her hands and its tentacles again slowly fell into the water.

- Ahem... - He cleared his throat, slowly returning (at least trying) to a relatively calm appearance. He again propped his cheek with his hand with a flower clutched in It, somehow incomprehensibly looking into the lens, again slightly pouting his lips...

He should definitely send Yuu an invoice for this photo...

This art was drawn by Me relatively recently. I wrote this fanfiction for that :)

Please, if you like My work, feel free to ask Me questions and requests! Also, I will be very glad to receive your reblogs :)

The original:

~ Дорогая фотография.

Недовольно надув губы, Азул немного недоверчиво съежился, незаметно обхватывая щупальцами под водой небольшой островок, с поросшими на нём ромашками, точно для надёжности. Безрезультатно попробовав сдуть с лица упавшую прямо на глаз серебристую, точно бок жемчужины прядь мокрых волос, Он чуть прищурился. Асшенгротто определённо слишком уж привык к жизни на суше... Стоявшая неподалёку Йуу, босая, в немного задранных по колено штанах, возилась в сумке, точно пытаясь что-то найти. Наблюдая за Ней со стороны, октомер немного помолчал, глядя на Её поиски ни то со скукой, ни то с лёгким раздражением.

- Префект, позвольте спросить... - Точно по привычке включив Свой "Асшенгроттовский" стиль делового, до скрипа зубов вкрадчивого, разговора, начал Он, поправляя прядь - Сперва Вы варварски вытащили Меня из кабинета, оторвав от дел, затем потащили на берег.... - Азул чуть ссутулился, и чёрные, блестящие на солнце плечи заметно напряглись, пока длинные тонкие пальцы с чёрными ногтями тревожно накручивали и мяли один извилистый локон у левой острой щеки - Заставили принять... Эту форму... - Сжавшись, щупальца крепче обвили и сжали каменные глядкие бока островка, словно думая раздавить его - И мне страшно спросить, что Вы потребуете от Меня теперь...

- Цветочек.

- .....Что?

Вскинув бровь, Азул чуть выпрямился и посмотрел на Йуу, безрезультатно вытряхивающую содержимое сумки на зелёную, чуть мятую травку, пытаясь найти что-то внутри. Ручки, карандаши, жвачки, батончики и неизвестно каким образом попавшая туда шерсть Гримма (Опять этот проклятый кот дрых на первом, на чём пришлость)...

- Возьми цветочек. - Повторяет Йуу обыденым тоном.

- Зачем? - Теперь, Азул вскидывает уже обе брови, и пару крупных чёрно-фиолетовых щупалец с любопытством выглядывают из воды, точно желая понять суть требования.

- Возьмите цветочек, и не выёживайтесь, сенпай.... - Дружелюбно хмыкнув, Йуу на миг замирает и хлопает Себя ладонью по лбу.

Откинув сумку в сторону, Она немного расстёгивает лёгую ку��тёжку и берётся за висящий у Неё на груди угловатый старый фотик.

Смекнув что к чему, Азул смутился только сильнее, и нехотя подавив желание скрыться от Йуу под водой, скрестил руки на влажной груди, настукивая пальцем по предплечью.

- Я надеюсь, Вы знаете, что Вы делаете... И что это не обойдётся Вам бесплатно....

- Знаю. А теперь, возьмите цветочек. - Йуу только пожимает плечами, снимая с фотоаппарата крышечку и подготавливая его к работе.

- Если говорить открыто, это обойдётся Вам очень дорого.

- С каких пор платит фотограф?

- Это Ваша идея, Мой дорогой префект. - Немного разочарованно вздохнув, Азул опёрся локтём о немного колючий из-за песка и травы островок, подпирая ладонью острый подбородок - Я знаю о Вашем интересе к фотографиям, но не думаю, что Вашей коллекции подойдёт этот осьминог... И ещё это будет дорого.... Я говорил об этом...?

- Вы так не любите фотографироваться, сенпай? - На секунду подняв на недовольную бледную морду друга любопытствующий взгляд, Йу продолжила ковыряться с камерой

- Не то чтобы не люблю... - Он отвернулся, медленно, точно лениво переползая взглядом по белым макушкам ромашек - Вы сами знаете причины... А ещё, Вы знаете, что это будет дорогостоящая фотография.

- Но она будет Моей любимой.

Октомер помолчал.... Снова недоверчиво нахмурился...

- "Любимой"...?

- Самой любимой.

- И дорогой.

- И дорогой... Во всех смыслах.

- Я говорил о цене. Вы и Ваш надоедливый комок шерсти не будете есть неделю!

- Пытаетесь запугать Меня ценником, сенпай? Хе-хе, думаю, Мы договоримся.

- Здесь даже нет смысла договариваться, Мой дорогой префект. Я могу покинуть Тебя прямо сейчас!

- И упустить возможность так легко и быстро получить деньги? Теряете хватку, сенпай. - Ййу усмехнулась, подходя ближе, ступая по мягкой траве и тёплому песку.

- Вам ДЕЙСТВИТЕЛЬНО так хочется иметь у Меня Мою фотографию в виде мерфолка? - Зашипел Азул, ни то со смущением, ни то с тревогой - Почему?

- Потому что Ты очень красивый в Своём истинном облике, конечно! - С трудом сдержав хихиканье, Йуу мягко ухмыльнулась - И Я решила сделать фотографии всех дорогих Мне людей перед тем, как Верховный Маг вернёт Меня обратно в Мой мир... - Отвернувшись и чуть нахмурившись, Йуу сморщила нос и тих�� проворчала - Если этот клювоносый дурак вообще помнит о Моём существовании....

Азула как Флойд по башке стукнул (Сравнимо с ударом кувалдой)... Она только что назвала его форму октомера красивой? Он дорогой Ей человек??? Его вечно крутящийся где-то под боком, постоянно влипающий в истории, но всё ещё чёрт её дери ДОРОГОЙ коллега однажды покинет Его и вернётся в родной мир??????

....Ох, великая семёрка, Он и забыл об этом....

Пока Смешно взвивший щупальца, Азул отходил от немого шока, смешанного одновременно со смущением и медленно нарастающим в душе беспокойством, Йуу, сама сорвала цветочек и протянула Азулу, широко ухмыльнувшись.

- Возьми!

Вновь сфокусировав взгляд и удивлённо похлопав белыми ресницами, немного красный Азул помолчал, но всё-таки медленно взял цветок из её рук и его зупальцах вновь медленно опали в воду.

- Кхм... - Он откашлялся, медленно возвращая (По крайней мере, пытаясь) себе относительно спокойный вид Он вновь подпёр щеку рукой с зажатым в Ней цветком, как-то непонятливо глядя в объектив снова чуть надувая губы...

Он определённо должен выслать Йуу счёт за это фото...

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twst-trailblazer · 1 month ago

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Main Account: @trixiegalaxy

TWST fanfiction Account: @trixie-in-wonderland

This story is available to read on both Archive of Our Own (AO3) and Wattpad.

This story takes place during book 7 of the game, Disney Twisted Wonderland.

Story Plot:

Yuika, Grim, Ace, Deuce, Epel, Ortho, and Jack decide to leave Lilia's Farwell party early and check out Yuika's bedroom mirror. Sebek also shows up later while looking for Malleus. But right as Malleus casts his signature spell, a stellaron appears and activates on the Isle of Sages. The combined power of Malleus's spell and the stellaron causes a portal open in Yuika's room and teleportes the group onto Herta Space Station. Now, the group must travel across the stars along with the Astral Express crew in order to find a way back home.

Fanfiction Theme Song - Dreams That Soar (Pop Version) by Sarah Whittemore

youtube

Story Info (Please Read) 》

Chapters List 》

Yuika Hasegawa Info 》

TWST Characters Info 》

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hihelloheyhowdy · 2 years ago

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Malleus realizing feelings + confession.

I've seen so many different headcanons of how he would confess but here is my personal take

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Malleus is been going on nightly walks with you, and opened up about his loneliness. Getting really close to you (some thing Sebak was extremely against but what he doesn't know won't hurt him).

So imagine his confusion when his heart starts beating especially quickly when you get to close.

Is this what child of men call 'heart attacks'? is he endangered? Should he be worried? so he says bye and just poofs out of there

"Sorry child of man I must go, I'm not feeling well."

"Oh well is there anything i can he-" and he's gone.

Lilia is so confused when he hears Malleus call him in a tone mixed with confusion, panic, and concern, wasn't he on the walk with the magic-less perfect he seems to have taken a liking too?

Malleus is pale complexion makes the pink-y/red hue on his face far too noticeable.

Ah, he can already connect the dots here.

"I was fine really but they stubbled closer to me and suddenly my heart is going double? triple? it's pace. Of course i'm not sure what sickness they could've given me, but surely this is not normal."

Lilia is trying so hard not to laugh, this is a serious moment. The crown prince/future king, and more importantly- one of the children he's worked hard to raise has found a love interest. So he's going to try his best to help- after all he's been around long enough to know that romantic feelings and relationships should be handled with care.

"Malleus, have you considered you may have romantic feelings for the perfect?"

Malleus literally freezes. Just stops completely.

What?

Romantic???

feelings?????

For who??????

Malleus.ext has stopped processing, refresh and try again later.

A million thoughts all at once

When? Where? How? Why? Is he allowed it? Can a fae even gain romantic feelings? Will they go away? Will they grow stronger? Can you notice? Have you known and not said anything? Do you like Malleus? See him as anything more than a friend? Do you even consider him a friend? Do you just tolerate him? Do you secretly share the same view point as everyone else about him and have been hiding?

The last thought left a bad taste on in his mouth. The idea of you even mildly disliking him made him want hide away. Is that normal for when a person has romantic feelings?

Lilia notices Malleus is change in attitude.

"Malleus? Are you feelings alright?"

"Yes? Maybe? No, no i don't think i am."

"Okay, maybe take a breathe. Having romantic feelings isn't the worst thing that could happen."

Malleus finds himself in the library reading books about romantic feelings and relationships, subconsciously making a checklist to see if he really does have feelings for you.

Finding the other person attractive: yeah, he'd found you more appealing than others.

Wanting to be around the person more: yes, he always found himself wanting to spend time with you.

Feeling happier around the person: of course he felt happy around you.

As he kept going through questions you'd find on the back of a teen girl magazine his head was spinning.

He had a crush on you.

Oh dear.

He didn't really know how it approach it at first

Lilia told him to "go for it" and "court the perfect if you want to be with them"

As he thought about it, a romantic relationship with you seemed... lovely.

He began to crave it, to want you to have feelings for you back.

So he decided to court you.

You were confused at first, not knowing whatever... this was that he was doing

After all one night he disappears middle of your walk, and then various nights later is giving you what is seemingly expressive jewelry.

On the third night he offered you jewelry, you said something that shattered his world.

"Malleus I can't accept this-"

To you what was simply being polite, and not accepting crazy priced gifts was to Malleus a rejection.

So he pouted, and once again disappeared without warning.

When Lilia saw Malleus upset, speaking about how the perfect does not reciprocate his feelings, he knew something was up.

Lilia wasn't an idiot he knew you liked Malleus, so he needed to know what was going on.

When you saw Lilia at your door the next day, you jumped at the chance to get answers

"Do you know why is Malleus has been acting so strange?"

"Because you rejected him."

"I didn't reject him?"

"But he was courting you, and you didn't accept his advances?"

"Courting me? Since when?!"

"Oh! you humans court differently. You see when a dragon fae wants to court someone they usually give them precious gems, and rocks."

"So when I didn't want to take it..."

"He thought you were rejected his romantic advances."

Once it had set in, you put a plan into motion.

Later that day you showed up at the Diasomnia dorm.

Sebek wanted to kick you out upon sight, but Lilia and Silver held him down so you could go speak to Malleus.

Upon seeing you he was happy at first, then heartbroken.

"Malleus I have something to gift you."

His ears perked up.

He stared down at the rock with a painted heart on it in your hands with curiosity.

"I couldn't find a precious gem on such short notice, but I hoped this would temporarily suffice in allowing me to court the great dragon prince."

He had never felt so happy.

It's now his new prized possession, next to Gao-Gao Drakon-Kun.

#fanfic #malleus fluff #twst malleus #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland malleus #twst fanfic #twst fluff #malleus x y/n #malleus x reader #fluff fic #fan fiction #tooth rotting fluff #brainrot

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the-secret-keeper · 2 years ago

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Part 2 to the Obey me X Twisted Wonderland / Barbatos X Reader

This was requested by @babyxwolfiex glad you liked the original!

TW: Talk of malnutrition, talk of extortion, though not described in detail the readers leg is messed up in the beginning, and angry demons attempting to maul a crow.

Enjoy!

"Very wisely put." Diavolo complimented, as Mammon moved to help me stand, while Barbatos bent down to properly heal my leg.

"You'll show us, darling?"

"Of course." I nodded to Barbatos. "Plus," I glanced at Satan, "I think he'll be the most interesting to watch react. I can guess how the rest of you will react." Satan raised an eyebrow to me, but said nothing, as they all stood to follow me.

"If you would like a tour of the school, I would be more than happy to-" Belphegor glared at him, causing Crowley to shut up.

"You are all more than welcome to come along as well." I extended an offer to the other Dorm Leaders as I walked towards the door. "But, when we get there, you may want to remain a few paces back." I paused, looking around the room. "You are all, unbelievable." I sighed.

"What?" Leona asked in an annoyed voice.

"For someone with such a presence, you all seem to forget him easily." I shook my head. "We will pick up Malleus before we head to my dorm."

"What?"

"For the heir to the throne of a kingdom, you sure do seem unconcerned that you completely forgot about him, Dire Crowley." I scolded him, causing him to sheepishly back off. "Besides, I want him and Dia to meet. I think they'd be good friends." I brushed off everyone looking at me, before taking the hand of my boyfriend and leading all the demons, dorm leaders, and the headmaster out of the conference room and to the mirror room.

Once we retrieved Tsunotarou, we made our way to the Ramshackle mirror, but I stopped everyone short.

"Look, I need to set some ground rules, because knowing my friends, they're still there." I sighed, glancing at the ground. I looked back up. "They have permission to be there, no you may not act as though they do not own the place, they practically live there with me when I'm not at their dorms. Grim, will be Grim, just appease him, it makes things easier. No he is not named after the money." I pointed at Mammon who had raised his hand. He put it down. "No fire magic, critique the house and you will be given to one of the dorm leaders and they will decide what to do with you. Despite everything, he does have his name on everything, so no you may not kill Crowley." I stated before muttering, "at least not before I can put everything in Crewel or Trein's name."

"Can I violently maim him?" Satan asked, sensing where this was going. I narrowed my eyes for a moment.

"I'll think about it. Oh, and Satan." He nodded. "Don't, run anyone over. Yes, you may take pictures, no, you may not keep him unless Lucifer says yes, anything else you may want to do with him you will need to ask him. Yes he can talk, he can also fly and use fire magic."

"What?" Asmo asked.

"Trust me, it's necessary." I promised before taking a deep breath, and walking through the mirror. "Welcome to Ramshackle dorm." I said, gesturing to my dorm. There was no noise, so I turned, only to see them all in varying forms of shock.

Asmodeus, he seemed to be gripping Satan's arm with all his strength, or at least a lot of it. I couldn't figure out whether or not it was because of the looks, or the condition.

Satan wasn't faring much better, but he was more angry than shocked, fists clenched so hard his knuckles were white and I was worried he'd begin drawing blood soon. His pupils were so dilated, I wondered how he could see.

Mammon was seemingly experiencing a mix of emotions. His eyes read as sad and worried, but his body language read as anger. Either way, he had grabbed my hand and wasn't letting go, though he wasn't hurting me.

Lucifer, once out of his trance, immediately began tearing Crowley a new one. Despite his anger, he was being at least somewhat diplomatic about it. Ranting off about health and safety codes, about endangering lives, and about how irresponsible he was being.

Leviathan passed out. Legitimately. Though I shouldn't be too surprised, I guess, since he's so similar to Idia and that's how he reacted the first time he saw my dorm. He probably put together very quickly that, when I have WiFi, it's shitty and isn't very often.

Beel, looked like he wanted to cry out of worry, but he was doing something much more important. Holding back Belphie, who had immediately lunged for Crowley upon seeing my living conditions. Beel has quick reflexes, and is very good at knowing what his twin is about to do, so it makes sense.

Barbatos, is hard to read as always, but judging by the fact that he's clenching his fists and glaring daggers at Crowley, he's furious. He's likely only holding back because Diavolo hasn't let him go loose yet. I squeezed his hand reassuringly, to which he latched onto my shoulders, quietly apologizing for not coming sooner.

Speaking of Diavolo, he was much closer to Beel in reaction, but was handling it more like Lucifer. He wasn't yelling, in fact he was trying to calm Lucifer down, but he was still berating Crowley for how he's been treating me.

"There you are!" I looked at my door.

"Boys!" I smiled. "Guys, these are my friends here. Meet Ace and Deuce, they live in Riddles dorm known as Heartslabyul. Jack is in Leona's dorm, Savanaclaw. Epel is in Pomefiore, which is run by Vil. And Sebek,"

"Is in the same dorm as my Young Master, Diasomnia!"

"I was getting there, Sebek." I sighed. "Boy, these are my friends and boyfriend from where I used to live. Barbatos, Diavolo, Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor." I finished introductions.

"Don't forget the Great Grim!"

"I could never, I was just saving the best for last." I assured Grim as he flew to in front of me. Satan, upon seeing Grim, calmed down immensely, and almost grabbed him out of the air. I figured that would happen. "Isn't that right, Satan? Only the best for the Great Grim." He nodded enthusiastically, causing Grim to laugh in a high and mighty tone and fly over to him.

"Good job." Barbatos whispered.

"I knew that would happen, it's why I gave him those extra rules." I whispered back.

"It's like there's 9 more Malleus'." Ace whispered fearfully.

"You are an idiot, Trappola." I scolded. "All of my friends, Tsunotarou included, are amazing. I mean, these nine are probably even more than what you're used to handling."

"They can't be more scary than Overblots." Epel agreed with me.

"Well," I said in a high-pitched tone, remembering the time Lucifer tried to kill me, Satan tried to kill me, Leviathan hurt me, Asmo hurt me, and Belphie did kill me, "I wouldn't, say, that." I laughed awkwardly.

"What are Overblots?" I froze at Diavolo's stern tone. He doesn't usually take that tone with me. I slowly turned, seeing all the demons staring at me. "Mc, what are Overblots?"

"It's, not,"

"It's a monster that forms when a person overuses their magic, becomes overwhelmed by negative emotions, and loses control of their entire being." Riddle surmised. "The Dorm Leaders, aside from Kalim, but including his Vice Dorm Leader Jamil, have all Overblotted. Mc is the one who saved us." The air grew very tense.

"You really are a therapist, huh?" Mammon tried to joke.

"I suppose. If only I got paid like one. Then I wouldn't have to rely on Crowley for food. Though, admittedly, I do often attend dinners and parties at other dorms, so it's not as though I'm completely deprived of food."

"You haven't eaten in three days."

"True, but there weren't any Unbirthday Parties during that time, and I didn't want to intrude on anyones dinner, seeing as I wasn't invited. I spend all of the little money that I do earn fixing this place up and making sure Grim is taken care of." I explained. "He's a very pampered kitty."

I felt Mammon let go of my hand. Mammon picked up his younger brother, still passed out on the floor, and handed him to Asmo, who complained but complied. Now the only demon without something holding him back, he lunged for Crowley.

"Mammon sit!" I commanded, causing him to fall immediately to the ground. I managed to get out of Barbatos's grip and approached Mammon.

"C'mon!"

"Mammon. You and I both know you would've killed him."

"Only a little."

"For most people, death is irreversible, dummy." I flicked his forehead. "I'm fine, really. Besides, knowing you lot, I'll be out of here before morning."

"You're exactly right." Lucifer grabbed my arm.

"Off." I commanded, and he let go.

"You're going to come back with us."

"This will not be an argument." I blinked at Barbatos, before nodding.

"But I will be able to come back, right?"

"Of course!" Diavolo guaranteed. "Now that we know where you went and how to get here, you can come and go as you please."

"Thank you."

"Can we keep him?" I laughed at Satan's question.

"No."

"Can we keep him?" I asked Barbatos, who looked at Diavolo.

"I see no reason why we can't have a marvelous animal such as this at the palace."

"Palace?!" I flinched at the outburst of the dorm leaders and first years.

"Did Crowley not tell you?" I asked the dorm leaders, not surprised by the first years confusion.

"It seems to have slipped my mind."

"Lucifer, please slap him." He smirked, moving towards Crowley, who began running away. "These men are demons, and Dia is Lord Diavolo, the next King of the Devildom. Barbatos is his butler. The other seven are the Seven Deadly Sins and the other seven rulers of hell." Malleus nodded sagely, as though he knew the entire time, though I had never actually introduced him to anyone.

"How did you meet these people?" Deuce asked, his voice going up in pitch as he frantically looked between all of them and me.

"Oh, they kidnapped me and I spent a year in the Devildom as an exchange student! I came back though. Could never really go back to normal life after that, and, of course, I couldn't really be separated from Barbatos for too long." A very loud resounding slap, followed by a thud rang out during the bout of stunned silence that covered the group.

"At this point, nothing about you shocks me. You could tell me you're an angel, and I'd believe it." Jack sighed.

"I'm not an angel, though I am descended from the reincarnated soul of one, and I know three."

"I believe it." He nodded.

"We should have a celebration once we return to the Devildom."

"Ooh! A party!" Asmo dropped Levi, who had begun to regain consciousness. "I'm down! Always ready for some fun!"

"What kind of celebration?" Lucifer asked, adjusting his glove as he returned victorious in his quest to slap Crowley.

"A festival!"

"Sounds fun, can my friends from here come?"

"Of course! The more the merrier!" Diavolo insisted. I beamed.

"You're all going to love hell!"

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yomogi-mogi-mochi · 10 months ago

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Orchid Child, Dandelion Child

Pairings: Riddle & Sibling MC (NOT a romantic pairing)

Summary: This is going to take after Riddle’s overblot, and short and sweet. The term orchid child/dandelion child refer to children who may have very specific/different needs for their development, and those who need less accommodations or specific requirements for their development, respectively. They may grow up in the same environment but everyone’s needs are different, one child may have different coping mechanisms than the other. MC is heavily implied to have dyslexia, ADHD/Autism, and OCD (the latter two of which are often comorbid)

Notes: My brain is so dead. Enjoy this very short piece, sorry it's been a while.

TW: Graphic descriptions of embalming (weird tag I know but listen listen listen hear me out‒), also mentions of blood and human biology; past domestic/child abuse, and mental illness

GN Terms for MC

AO3 Link Here

Masterlist

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

Adjacent to your mother’s footsteps, you had always had a curiosity for the medical. Though it was never living bodies that enamored you. In death, biology levels all. Cremation, natural burial, or alkaline hydrolysis‒ no amount of money, or intelligence, magic, or talent would help anyone escape the inevitable. Whether able bodied, rich, poor, moral or not‒ all people returned to dust, bones, and decay.

Rituals like the embalming process always brought you a strange comfort‒ the draining and ejecting, bathing, refrigeration‒ the body incised, emptied of its filth, and sewn back up. Imagining the dissection of a body into each fleshy component relaxed your own‒ as if your cold body lay on a sleek, steel mortuary table, your jaws and eyes sewn shut and the biology of your body ready to be drained. Even if your insides were scraped out for people to see‒ you would not feel shame. No blood to rush to your cheeks, or your aching heart. Your mother had always dismissed this career choice, urging you to find something ‘more within your reach ’.

Your body would be clean from its excrement, scrubbed of all the insides that capsized you from this world, and its people.

Compartmentalization‒ your psychiatrist mentioned. It took you a few tries to correctly register the word in your head when you had gotten the report, you’re not sure if it’s correct. If you did not imagine this scene at least three times a day, you felt like your blood was going to burst forth from your membrane, hot and spastic, like a monstrous clot of nerves. Again. Again. Again. You cleansed this shaking contamination within you with whatever you could do. That’s wrong. You dig your nails into your palm, resisting the urge to lay the papers that were shuffled around by the headmaster on the floor, sorting and checking one by one if they were there. Again, again, again. You imagine an arterial tube weaving through the wounds of your hands, draining the warmth that itched against your skin, the function of your wandering eyes, and the defect of your mind.

“I’ve signed off on everything. Is there anything else I can do for you, Mx.Rosehearts?”

“No, nothing else. Thank you, Headmaster Crowley.”

You gather the stack of papers in your file, you check through‒ quickly‒ your medical records, doctor’s notes, psych evaluations, annotated versions of section 504, interpreter documents‒ a variety of other loose papers that wedge inside the old file as best you can, just in case . Even for such a minute accommodation, lacking a legally recognized diagnosis prepared you for the worst. Rejection‒ a tumble and drag into a system not designed for you in mind. These accommodations were an afterthought after that system was built, something to make you “whole”. There were many experiences in your interactions with school boards that warranted preparations like this, which you scrubbed into your mind and routine. No one will help you‒ not the board, the teachers, your peers, your family‒ you must be prepared to advocate for yourself. There was never room for failure, and you made sure that these accommodations made up for your innate nature to do so in this system.

You bow a perfect ninety degrees before you head out of the office, quietly shutting the door behind you with a soundless exhale. Adjusting the stack of papers in your file, you scurry off to the library to find a quiet corner to reorient yourself. You weave through the various open tables, the large seating area, and the comfortable nooks with beanbags‒ and instead, opt for your usual spot in the corner of the library, where you softly place the file on the desk.

That’s wrong. Again. Again. Again. Again.

You open and close the file four times, feeling a wriggling, hot feeling in your blood that completely halts your mind from moving forward with your process, despite the short amount of time you have until your next class.

No. Again.

With the sixth time, it feels right. You sigh in relief, thanking whatever higher being out there that the process didn’t take as long as before. Medical records, doctor’s notes, psych evaluations, annotated sections, interpreter documents. All in order, all there, only for you to see. A weight lifts off your chest as you shift your eyes around the library, and close the file.

You browse through the section of the library, running your finger along the spines of the books to spot a new read. A mauve leather-bound book catches your eye, the gold letter glinting in the dusty light of the library. Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: Other Lessons From the Crematorium you skim the summary on the back. Satisfied, you work your way to the counter, where the librarian checks out the book with a smile. She pulls out the book slip at the front of the book and a pen.

Riddle Rosehearts.

You almost make a sound at the name, but instead, you quietly chew in your inner lip to provide some sort of grounding for the whirling feeling in your stomach. You feel sick when you write your name in the same cursive as the name above yours‒ just like your mother taught you.

“ Again .” Your mother would say.

You write. She slaps your hand with a ruler, reaching over your shoulder to erase the word.

“ Again .”

You write. She slaps, she erases.

“ Again .”

You write. She slaps, the paper begins to fray from the friction of your eraser, and the tears that run hot down your cheeks. Inertia. Inertia. Inertia. You repeat the word in your mind, trying to mold it with your hands. But the black text above the frayed paper seems to weave together, jumble, congeal. You push the hot coal in the back of your throat, forcing your bruised hand to write.

That’s not right. Again. Again. Again.

Why can't you just do it the way you're told?

Medical records, medical recommendations, psych evaluations, doctor’s notes, annotated sections, interpreter documents. So much extra weight that folder holds that you have to carry everywhere with you‒ just in case .

Again. Again. Again.

You open and close the locker shut, twisting the locker combination each time. At this rate, you know you’ll be late to class, way past your accommodations agreements. You hope Professor Trein won’t make such a big scene.

When you arrive at class, you are miraculously left alone by the professor and your peers. Breathing a sigh of relief, you take your usual seat, finding a practice exam on your desk.

You didn’t properly shut your locker. People are probably stealing your stuff now, breaking your things, tearing your extra records into pieces. You didn’t properly shut your locker. The documents are ruined, and you have to start all over again. You didn’t shut your locker. You grip your pencil, bouncing your leg, digging your nails into your palm. Yes, yes you did lock it. Three times in fact. Still, a voice persists‒ you didn’t do it right. Again. Again. Again. You scratch, and pick at the broken skin of your palm.

Eventually, as you continue staring at the packet‒ you feel a stab at the back of your shoulder. A student jabs forth the packet of papers that were collected from the back with an exasperated face. The papers are basically thrown your way as you add your half blank packet to the pile, swallowing down your anxiety. Trein continues class as usual, going over the review sheet.

“Mx. (Name). A word?”

You freeze in your seat, in the middle of gathering your things for next class. Students’ gaze furl towards you, and you pick at the wound of your palm to calm the rising panic in your abdomen. Begrudgingly, you pack up your things, and head towards Trein’s desk.

“I will excuse your tardiness for today since you have accommodations, but that does not explain the almost completely unfinished practice exam that we took in class. Do you care to explain?”

You refuse eye contact. “I…” There was no way to explain it with any sane sensibility, or without alerting your mother. “I apologize sir. I was distracted. It won’t happen again.”

He sighs, you know he doesn’t believe you. It’s your condition‒ you look to the stack of accommodation letters and agreements tucked under his elbow, and you feel that weight in your chest.

“Please, sir. I’ll do anything to make up for it I‒”

A hand is raised at your response, with a pinch at the bridge of his nose. “It’s…It’s quite alright. I know you are trying your best, considering your… situation . Please finish the packet before you come to class next time.” Trein hands the packet back to you, which you accept with a silent nod.

The situation, the condition, the baggage. There have been many terms used to describe your disablement from the world‒ each more alienating than the other. You draw blood on your palm once more, looking inside the crescent-shaped holes in your flesh. You feel nothing but the trembling deep in your chest.

You sit in the shared space of the Heartslabyul dorm, hoping that body doubling will allow you to finish your workload. Though it takes you some time, you manage to finish your work before the sun sets, and you scurry back into your dorm room to begin your book. As you try to relax, the thought of a missing assignment, a failed exam, a systematic blunter pricks at your skin, spreading and choking your flesh. You read the same sentence over and over, but understand nothing.

Why can't you just do it the way you're told?

You hear a knock at your door, seizing you from your thoughts. You sigh, shove whatever scrap paper that had been lying around into your book, and reluctantly open the door.

Riddle Rosehearts.

You remember him from his perfect handwriting, his words that mirrored your own mothers. You could never get the “R” quite right, something both your brother and mother scolded you for.

“Rule of threes, you understand what will happen when you fail the third time.” Again. Again. Again.

Riddle had always resembled his mother much more than you had‒ in voice, in appearance, in tone. “ Rule of threes, (Name). You know what mother will do to you when you fail the third time .” He extended your mother's violence with all his likeness to her, in his face that would look down upon you with aberration, and his tightened fists that dragged your head to look closer at the paper, and realize your error. Every way he came into contact with you had been wrapped, tightly as flesh, your mother's violence.

You imagine that cold table again, but Riddle’s silvery eyes tethered you to the moment. It was as if you could feel every shifting tendon of your body, every pull of sinew and blood that pumped blood rapidly to your heart, and the back of your ears. But the guilty look on his face reminded you of one of the rare times he had broken mother’s rules. You realized he was as much of a child too, that day. Stretched thin and tall to fill your mothers expectations.

His stare is unbearable, you push through the tension in your throat.

“Can I help you, Dorm Leader Rosehearts?”

You think you see his worried expression, but your eyes dart from his gaze when he looks towards you again.

“You left this on the table in the common room.” He extends you the file that you thought had been safely tucked with your belongings. Your vision begins to distort‒ graying and distancing as you attempt to keep yourself calm from experiencing your literal nightmare . “I thought you wouldn’t want anyone to see it.”

“I…do not, no. I would not wish to shame you, or this dorm.”

Riddle takes a sharp inhale. You unconsciously tightening your body‒ imagining the postmortem stages. Pallor mortis, your blood pools to the souls of your feet. Algor Mortis, your skin feels on fire, and cools dead, limp. Rigor mortis, you stiffen and contract. The nutrients of your body drained, breaking down to gray sludge. You prepare for the breakdown of your body, your psyche, and your soul‒ the wounds on your body are only evidence to your movement through temporality in this system. Livor Mortis, your blood bruises your skin.

“I did not…mean that. I only meant‒ I felt…” He sighs, looking towards the floor. “I’m bad at this. But I didn’t mean that this is something shameful. I only wished to protect your privacy.”

You avert your eyes, unsure of what to do with him wanting to protect you in some sort of way. Perhaps his overblot changed him, but all you see if your mother’s shadow, when you look towards him.

“It’s not important, I apologize for the trouble, Dorm Leader Rosehearts.”

Maintaining his grasp on the file, he attempts to keep this connection going. “There’s so much I need to apologize for.”

You only manage a strangled sound, afraid to pull the file towards you. Afraid of movement, of air, of space, of time, of him. Everything seems to strangle you, you know that it was precisely designed that way.

He cups a hand over your own. You try to repress the tremble in your body from the searing feeling of his palm, too afraid to look, speak, or move. You remain still, like a corpse, hastily trying to turn off your nerves and the bursting blood in your body, slaughtering it, and draining all feeling from your body. It’s been so long‒ your body rushes to catch up. You’re always catching up. Always.

“I don’t want to upset you. I just came to apologize, but I understand if you don’t want to see me.”

Your mouth is sewn with silence, your jaw caught in a tremor in your mouth. Quickly‒ your mind makes the decision to speak‒ mother never liked when you didn’t answer to her questions.

The words scrape through your throat. “I…” A gulp to lubricate the convulsing motions of your esophagus. “Nothing is wrong. I apologize, dorm leader Rosehearts. It will never happen again‒ I apologize‒ I will make up for it. Please.”

His gaze softens. “I’m not asking because I’m asking you to apologize, or make up for anything. I’ve learned some things…I wanted to make up, but, I want to make sure you’re okay first.”

“Are you okay?”

You spare a glance at his face, almost caught in the worried expression adorned on his features. “I don’t understand what the purpose that question serves. I can’t understand…” Still, you worry what will happen if it seems like you blame him for your lack‒ so you shift the weight on yourself once more. “I am incapable…of understanding. I apologize.”

“Hey.” He mellows his voice as much as possible, releasing you from his grasp. “It’s okay.”

“You asked me a question. I was incapable of giving an answer that satisfies you. That is a violation of the rules, is it not?” You retract your hands to your chest, pressing your nails into the wounds on your palm.

Riddle folds his hands, almost nervously fidgeting with them. You almost react visibly with awe at the sight. “Our mother may have been wrong about a lot of things. I only recognized that after I attended here, and made many friends who helped me understand that. I am extremely regretful of the things I’ve done to you, and the things I’ve said. There’s no excuse for the things I’ve done, but I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me someday‒ I want to reconnect, if you’ll allow me.”

You push the file against your chest. “...I don’t think it will be easy. For me, or for you. Especially for me.”

“Most things that are worth something aren’t. I realized something while I was overblotting.” His cheeks gradually bloom pink, a habit he’s had since he was a child. You remember the color most when he cried, but he looks sheepish. Igniting the same warmth in your cheeks, you look at his feet. Heels, you never noticed. He must be shorter than you. “I missed you. I really did. And I missed what we could have had. I’m sorry I couldn’t have been a better brother to you.”

“I think…I missed you too.” You admit. “I think neither of us can ask for help, we’ve been raised that way. We have drastically different ways of coping with that isolation.”

“I think so too. I have a lot of work to do.”

“ We do.”

Rubbing your arm up and down, you soothe yourself‒ thinking of bodies and corpses, your skin buzzing from the thought of decomposition‒ what grows from them. The fruits of death lay thick and sweet on your tongue, as you stumble through a small smile. Riddle reciprocates.

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

End Notes:

Obviously this is only a small glimpse into what healing from abuse and trauma is like. But it’s a start. The first steps count.

I’m also in no way shape or form attempting to justify Riddle’s behavior. He’s a complete and total asshole for sure, but he was a kid‒ I definitely see him as capable of change.

The terms Orchid/Dandelion child are relatively new, and I find the pop-psychology approach to it very distasteful (as pop psych usually is. do your fucking research people. PEER REVIEWED ARTICLES!) But I wanted to use the terms to kind of critique the notion of this divide between "resilient" and "nonresilient". It's just a matter of needs, which are different for everyone. Making this hierarchical distinction is arbitrary and often times ableist, as it normalizes a singular, hegemonic way of reacting/experience/compartmentalization/coping. Anyways read more disability studies if you want to know more.

Because I’m not officially diagnosed (my disabilities are not officially recognized by law because for me the disadvantages gross outweigh the benefits, like literally having your human rights stripped away) I don’t know the specific details of acquiring accommodations in a school setting apart from my position as a teacher, but please let me know if there are any errors in the information so I can fix them expeditiously

I also wanted to write about the systematic issues disabled people (particularly those with “invisible” disabilities or those who are “undiagnosed”), I feel like I’ve been experiencing a lot of issues and push back from a system which is not built for disabled people in mind (and often is used against the community in an attempt to eradicate the category). Furthermore, I wanted to explore the aspects in which traditional psychiatry/curative methods are not built for neurodivergent individuals specifically. We often get diagnosed (especially those who have been socialized or perceived as female) with other disorders because of the perpetual stigma against ADHD, and autism in particular. Mainly why I didn’t go the psychology/psychiatry route, despite (one of) my undergrad major(s). It would have been immoral for me to be one, if held up to the current regulations set by the American Psychology Association, or the regulations in my home country. Anyways, lots of problems I wanted to address‒ not sure if I was able to explore them more at length, but I’d like to do more of this in the future.

The book Smoke in your Eyes is a reference to Caitlin Doughty’s book. I highly highly highly recommend her youtube channel and any of her books tbh. She writes/talks a lot about death culture and our perceptions of death throughout history, and creating a more death-positive culture.

I wanted to avoid some of the common stereotypes and misconceptions of OCD, which is predominantly characterized by excessive handwashing, needing things very neat and in place. I wanted to explore the more internal obsessions, rather than focus solely on the external compulsions‒ as I feel like the external behaviors that are often portrayed in media don’t explore the inner workings that make the disorder so hard to live with (and treat).

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland angst #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland fan fiction #twisted wonderland riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #twst riddle rosehearts #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland scenerios #twisted wonderland sibling

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trixiegalaxy · 10 months ago

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@enatopiaa Robin!Yuu twst au got me inspired to share this idea!

I been thinking it would be fun to read a Twisted Wonderland fan fiction story with Jing Yuan as Yuu/MC! And Jing Yuan would somehow be turned into a teenager (but he would still have the same hairstyle)

I would try to write it, but I don't think I could get his personally right 😅

I would love to hear what other HSR and TWST fans think of this idea!

#honkai star rail #star rail #jing yuan #jing yuan! yuu #twst au #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #fan fiction idea #fan fiction #fan fic crossover #fan fiction crossover

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trixie-in-wonderland · 8 months ago

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To celebrate the release of my Mysterious Joker × Twisted Wonderland fan fiction story, Miracle Maker In Twisted Wonderland, I decided to make this tag/drawing challenge where artists draw their TWST OCs or Yuu/MC character(s) as Phantom Thieves!

These drawings will be in the form of character cards. Here are the background pictures for the R and SR cards (if you want to draw your character as an SSR card, then you can draw your own background for it)

R: SR:

Challenge Rules 👇

There is no need to have any knowledge of the Mysterious Joker fandom to do this challenge.

Please reblog this post if you are doing the challenge (you don't have to tag anyone)

When you post your drawing, please add a link to this post and add the tag "Gathering Of TWST Phantom Thieves Challenge"

Your characters' outfits must be based on other phantom thieves (or regular thieves) outfits. But the character you based your outfit on don't have to be from Mysterious Joker (for example: Kaito Kid from Magic Kaitou 1412, or Sampo Koski from Honkai Star Rail)

Here are some phantom thief outfit examples from Mysterious Joker:

The outfits color scheme must be the same as your OC's dorm color scheme. But if you're doing a Yuu/MC character, then you can do whatever color scheme you want.

You may give your character a mask or monocle to wear on their face.

You can draw more than one character for this challenge. But please post them separately.

If your Yuu/MC character(s) are from different fandoms, you are still allowed to do a drawing of them.

You are allowed to make a drawing of canon TWST characters for this challenge.

You are allowed to draw groovy versions of your cards.

Do not draw someone else's OC or Yuu/MC character(s)! Not unless you get permission or they commission you. If you are commissioned or given permission, please tag the owner of the OC or Yuu/MC character(s).

Do not add gore, blood, or nudity to your drawings.

Artists who are tagged don't have to do this challenge.

Do not tag an artist who has already been tagged.

Tagging: @oya-oya-okay , @bunnwich , @tickledpink31 , @cheekinpermission , @cozymochi , @ashipiko , & @cheerleaderman

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artsybelle1015 · 2 years ago

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Not Safe Here

In the mirror, he saw him.

Warnings(!!): hallucinations, panic attacks, minor injuries, SPOILERS FOR BOOK 4!!!!

Part One || Part Two

•••

He hissed, feeling a burn settle onto his hand. Quickly turning off the stove, Jamil held his wrist and investigated the feeling. Just as expected, it was oil from the cooking that had done this, leaving a little yet painful mark on the outside of his hand, close to the thumb.

How could he be so careless?

A sigh escaped his lips, he didn’t mean to get distracted while cooking; in fact, he never does. Strange.

Deciding to pause on the food he was making for himself, he turned off the stove and walked out of the kitchen to find a first aid kit in his bathroom. If it had been a meal for Kalim he would’ve simply pushed through, but it was only for himself so he didn’t think it meant much to eat right away.

Turning on the sink on, he ran the hand under the cold yet gentle water. It had reminded him of Kalim’s Oasis spell.

Glancing upwards into the mirror, where the first aid would be behind, his eyes widened. He backed away and instantly tripped near the bathtub. The middle of his spine protested against the sudden hitting from landing back into the tub, but he could care less about that right now.

In the mirror, he saw him. The overblot.

It had only been a couple of weeks since then, many people choosing to avoid him and fear him. He numbed himself to it though, it was already bad enough he hurt Kalim and betrayed his family’s oath, he didn’t want to think of his reputation. He didn’t want to think of his overblot.

But, it was staring at him, menacingly, tilting its head, ink spilling from its mouth with a huge grin, wide eyes.

His breath quickened, his lungs feeling as though there was a rock squishing on them and his lungs moved like a balloon being pressed down on and it was going to pop soon. Coughs came out, it felt like he had the ink welling up in his throat. As the coughing turned into pathetic chokes, he quickly snapped his eyes shut, tears pooling in them.

Everything faded at once… into a twisted black.

___

It felt like an eternity he stared into the darkness.

“Jamil?” called out a familiar voice. This voice ruined his state of numbness and peace in the void he saw.

Slowly opening his eyes, he was right back there, pressed to the bathtub, looking at the mirror. Only this time, it was him, his tired eyes and furrowed brows.

With quick steps, Kalim rushed in front of him and crouched. His face filled with concern and panic, he stayed close yet far to Jamil. “I’m so happy you’re awake. I saw the food on the stove in the kitchen, and you never woke me up so I was scared something happened to you!”

Those were the words Jamil could make out. The rest was just Kalim’s voice, just a muffled voice.

Jamil kept his eyes on the mirror, a blank and dead stare. Noticing he had eye-bags. Since when did he have eye-bags? It was probably from the inability to sleep he had gotten it from.

With a sigh, closing his eyes for a second to look at Kalim, he felt devoid of anything in that present moment. He just perched his back straight, not feeling the pain, and stared to Kalim, who was still talking.

Finally, Jamil spoke, “Enough Kalim, I’m fine.”

“How? I’ve never seen you in this state!” Kalim protested, leaning in closer. “And look at you, you look so tired!”

Jamil gently shoved him away and stood up, Kalim quieting down in response to that. Brushing off his dorm uniform, Jamil wanted to make sure it looked neat and not appear as thought he was panicking.

“Anything you want to eat?”

Kalim’s eyes widen. “How could you say that after just being like that?” Quickly standing up.

“It’s fine, okay? Just answer me.” There was no emotion coming from his voice, and he was beginning to walk back to the kitchen.

Quick footsteps followed behind. Kalim was extremely worried, yet Jamil could not care any less. A part of him still hated Kalim despite everything that happened. But, it was his job to serve for Asim family, whether he liked it or not, he must do so.

That said eldest son spoke up again, “I don’t want you to make me breakfast right now, I’ll just make it myself. You should go and lay down!”

Jamil stopped and sighed, turning over to him. “You know very well you can’t cook, and as I said I am fine, it was just a rough night and I got sleep anyways.”

Kalim brows lowered, he looked almost angry. “Jamil, you burned your hand.”

Looking at his hand, he remembered it, he had forgotten about it for some time and now that it was mentioned it started to hurt again. All he did was shove that hand into his hoods pocket and exclaimed, “Yes, but it’s small and inconvenient.”

“Jamil, I’m kicking you out.”

His eyes widened and he quickly stared at Kalim, exasperated look. “What?”

Kalim took a deep breath, and said in pure confidence, “Jamil, I know you have been tired and upset, I’m not stupid. You need to take care of yourself and clearly living here isn’t doing it.”

Jamil eyes went dead again, he was feeling angry now, but didn’t want to express it. When he was angry he overblotted. He didn’t want to do that again. “Kalim, you and I both know you can’t take care of yourself alone. It wouldn’t be a wise choice to do that.”

“Quiet!” Kalim hushed, then quickly covered his mouth in guilt, Jamil couldn’t care right now though. “Sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. I got this though, okay? Plus plenty of people who I can talk to! Jamil it’s important you do things on your own and get rest.”

“I’m not leaving.” Jamil decided to head back to the kitchen anyways and try to continue the day as normal.

Under no circumstance was he going to leave, it would be a foul idea. Jamil Viper leaving Kalim alone, what a ridiculous idea. His purpose in life was to serve, and serve he will. There is no anger or trying to seek revenge, he must push on.

Kalim rushed in front of him, blocking the entrance to the kitchen.

Raising an eyebrow, Jamil asked, “What are you doing?”

“Pack your bags!” Kalim cheered. “You and I are heading to the ramshackle.”

“You can’t be serious?” he was freaking out now, panic rising again, not as much as last night, but still a bad amount.

Oh sevens, he was a failure to his family and Kalim and Scarabia as a whole.

His head began to pound, vision getting fussy. Quickly grabbing his head he backed away stumbling a bit. He messed up, why did he have to manipulate people? Why did he try to hurt others? Why did he have to hate Kalim.

“Jamil!” Kalim screeched, grabbing his arm. This snapped Jamil out of his thoughts, staring at him with paranoid eyes. “It’s not safe for you to live here.”

Jamil lost his voice, everything hurt in him. His throat once again felt as though it was clogged by ink. This wasn’t fair.

Grabbing his hand, Kalim guided Jamil to his room.

Too much in shock, he just watched Kalim back up bags with uniforms and clothes for each day. All of his daily care stuff such as hairbrush, and toothpaste were being thrown in too.

Now that he thought about it he hadn’t brushed his teeth or hair, he didn’t make himself look presentable. He looked horrible and people were realizing it.

“Kalim…” Jamil choked out. “Doesn’t the Prefect hate me?”

Slowly turning his head, Kalim looked into his thin snake eyes and shook his head. “Well, you see I talked to the Prefect and we talked. It was their idea to let you in. In fact, they want to get to know you, the real you. Yes they’re not happy with you but…” he softly smiled “wouldn’t it be nice to make a new friend?”

Jamil honestly couldn’t remember much after that, only that he suddenly appeared at ramshackle.

•••

Authors Note: First time I’ve ever posted a fanfic oh em gee. Anyways, thinking of a part two honestly, but it’s mostly for my own main character/Yuu. I enjoyed this though, so I hope whoever is reading did too!

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