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#twisted wonderland fics
trappolia · 2 months
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HOT THINGS HE DOES FOR YOU ── deuce spade + gn!reader,
i. runs a hand through his hair and curses like a sailor when an algebra problem has been bothering him for too long. it messes up all his hard work in maintaining his appearance from this morning, but he’s far too upset to care. this goes for any moment of frustration for him too. sometimes his hair is so messy, you can catch the few strands of faded blond that he had failed to cover up when he dyed his hair before nrc, like the hints of his delinquent past are peeking through in more ways than one. there’s a frustrated look in his eyes that you’re a little guilty to admit you’re attracted to, and the way he spits out words definitely unexpected from an honour student makes your heart race in the strangest way … though, if you try catch his attention, he’s back to the deuce you know ─ wide doe eyes and a little lost. it makes your head spin, in the best way.
ii. takes your bags or anything that looks like it weighs more than necessary and carries them from you without even asking. most of the time this happens mid-conversation, like when he catches up with you at the hallway on your way to your next class. you’d engage in casual conversation, and suddenly he’s gently taking the straps of your bag and tugging it out of your hands, holding it in your stead while never breaking eye contact as he listens to you ramble about crewel's last lecture. and if you hold out your hand for him to give back your bag, he might just flush a little bit red and move your bag to his other side hastily, intertwining your fingers with his as he tugs you along gently to continue your journey, like he'd rather "embarrass himself" by pulling such a bold move rather than letting you carry your own stuff.
iii. always asks if it’s okay to kiss you. you’re sure than a decade could pass by, and he’d still be just as shy when it comes to kissing you. even when you give him your permission, he starts off with a shy brush of his lips against your own, a little peck or two, before diving back for more. he’ll ask every single time too. "are you sure? is it okay? can i really kiss you?" you’re not sure if your heart is pounding because of his lovely consideration of you or the fact that he can never find it in himself to stop asking for more once you let him have it the first time.
iv. starts bringing along his old leather jacket for you when you visit his hometown in the early spring or autumn. he says he brings it just in case you get cold, but you’re not oblivious enough that you don’t notice how the street punks keep their distance after doing a double take when they see you clad in the deuce spade’s leather jacket– some of them even offer their help with your groceries without being asked. it’s sort of funny and actually rather helpful in keeping out of trouble, but at the end of the day, you realise that deuce doesn’t see draping his old leather jacket over your shoulders as an act of possessiveness, but rather a way to keep you safe and protected in a subtle way. somehow, that sends your heart racing even more than the thought of him being possessive over you.
v. has an entire section of notes in his phone dedicated to you; like his regular school notes, messy and disorganised, but they’re filled with everything you could imagine. general things you like, little details of his day that reminded him of you, songs to put in playlists for you, and even pictures of stuff that you looked at while you were grocery shopping together. it’s complete with little observations and notes like they like to have the window seat but don’t want to bother people by asking, so let them board first so they can take it for themselves or they seem to like this type of snacks. maybe ask mom to send some of that one brand from the store back home in her next package. it’s the little but dedicated actions that show how much he really cares for you.
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© trappolia 2024
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etheries1015 · 4 months
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So I was scrolling through tumblr and saw this, https://www.tumblr.com/helena-and-helena-meta/733034749628710912/anyone-ever-just-be-doing-something-normal-and
So I wanted to know if you could write a fic or some headcanons based off it. Also, how are you?
Angst isn't really my forte, but I shall give it a decent shot :]
A sacrifice worth making
Featuring: Malleus Draconia
general warnings: Gender neutral reader, angst, kind of short. Sorry
TW: Depictions of injuries (Not gore) If there is anything else I missed, please let me know and I shall update this section accordingly
He thought you would never wake up. Seeing your frail body riddled with burns not reacting to any of the healing magic from the medicinal mages had given him very little hope, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach with a sour taste in his mouth he had never felt before. He hadn't felt this much agony in a very long time, how could he let it come to this? Allowing a human to shield him using their entire body, the prince of Briar Valley, the notion that the all-powerful fae wouldn't be able to save the one person most important to him further induced the dreadful thought he was not fit to rule at all.
He had not left your side, begs from Sebek or others had fallen upon deaf ears as he continued to try and have faith you would wake up. Every time he looked your way, he could not stop hearing your screams- those harrowing screams will haunt him for years to come. Every time he closed his eyes the scene played over and over, haunting him, forcing him to look as if his eyes were stapled open in a room of mirrors with no way of escape.
Nobody could have anticipated the creation of poison imbedded fire enough to kill off the prince of Briar Valley, and he knew if you were awake and he spoke of these worries to you, you would scold him saying it was not his fault and it was an unfortunate situation that had unavoidable circumstances and sacrifice. In the end, the potion that had been meant to hit Malleus- missed as you jumped in front of him and took the blow, your body bursting into flames as the deafening screams of pain escaped your mouth he watched your body drop to the floor. Although the poison that was laced within the flames was enough to kill a specific magic-induced fae, it should have had little to no effect on the average human.
Thus, It should have been an easy enough fix- you were to come into the best care that Malleus could possibly find you, and you were going to come back to them; smiling and speaking to him as you had always done. Yet as one day dragged on longer than the next, a week had passed and you showed no signs of awakening. Full of grief, Malleus had blamed himself more and more, until he could no longer take it. He could not find solace in the company of anyone else but you, the only person who treated him as his equal- you who would give him noteworthy advice, you who would speak your mind so freely and insisted he do the same. Although he felt a little silly and perhaps it was far too late, he took you up on opening his heart.
His long slender fingers traced your peacefully sleeping face, emerald eyes melancholy and longing to peer into your lively orbs once more.
"Your sacrifice," His voice was in a low whisper, "Will not...will not go unnoticed. Your bravery will be remembered all across Briar Valley," He choked up, feeling that same overwhelming feeling of grief.
"No, that...is not what I truly want to say," He pursed his lips, bending over to plant a soft kiss upon your forehead.
"I miss you, and... I'm sorry. I failed to protect you. Please, come back...I.." He couldn't find the words to describe the heavy feeling inside of his chest where his heart lay, it was the first time he had ever felt such strong emotions for another, much less a human. Their lives are far too fleeting, and he blamed himself for seemingly cutting yours short- and although time runs in the blink of an eye for Malleus- he could have sworn the time he spent waiting for you to wake up lasted ten lifetimes. A voice called to him from the doorway, and he knew it was that time of day to leave you once again. He gave you the promise of returning the next day as he had done every time he had to begrudgingly part from your sleeping form.
The Fae turned around to exit the room you stayed in, the same as he always had done after saying his goodbyes without as much of a farewell in return. However, what he did not notice this time, was the way your fingers moved ever so slightly- almost as if trying to reach him before the door closed and his shadow faded away...
~~~~
Masterlist
I hope that wasn't too bad. Thank you for the request <3
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traumxrei-archive · 2 years
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【 when the world stopped for you 】
summary: it's jamil viper's birthday and he isn't too enthused...until the prefect waltzes into his room, promising surprise and a magic carpet ride. and who was jamil to refuse such an offer?
author's note: welcome to my homage to jamil viper ! i did want to write a character study type of fic, but i thought he deserved some fluffy comfort for his birthday, so here it is, refreshingly late >:DD i hope you enjoy the fic ^^
characters: jamil viper x gn!prefect
word count: 2.5k
tags: happy birthday jamil viper !!, he's done w/ the prefect, but is he really if he likes them ?, they take a magic carpet ride "a whole new world style" (jamil is jasmine and prefect is aladdin lmao)
[ or read it on ao3 ! ]
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Birthdays weren't something that Jamil celebrated. The memories of birthdays from his childhood were of his sister's small hands shaking him awake. The lamplight illuminating the kunafa his parents made, singing hushed songs before the work day started.
He would end up having one bite of the kunafa before rushing off to wake up Kalim for his morning lessons. The white-haired boy always had some magnificent gift waiting for him, which he always respectfully declined, no matter how much he wanted it. Because he was taught that 'it isn't polite to accept grand gifts from your master.'
Living in the Al-Asim household for so long, he had seen his fair share of birthday parties and banquets. It happened often each year, with each of Kalim's many siblings having their own parties every birthday. Even Kalim himself was known for hosting one of the most extravagant and beautiful parties for his birthdays back in Scalding Sands.
So it was to his surprise that he was the one getting the "birthday banquet" treatment at NRC. He knew how this went down. You get an outfit and a party after school was over. That was what happened last year. Yet he still couldn't get used to all the hustle and bustle.
Jamil stared at his own birthday outfit bitterly, the failures and mistakes of his second year stinging like a phantom wound. Certainly this was enough celebration. He already got enough birthday greetings to fill a jar, and he didn't even have to make breakfast. He didn't need a party on top of that.
Nonetheless, Jamil dutifully put on the suit, feeling the slide of cool fabric against his skin. Even if he didn't like the ritual, NRC had good taste in fabrics at least.
He had just slipped on the bolo tie when his door slipped open. He frowned, turning, "I thought I said no enteri–"
He froze when he saw the person standing at the door. Grinning widely, the Prefect waved, "Hey, birthday boy!"
Jamil winced, "Spare me, please."
"But I haven't seen you all day, senpai, and plus," They closed the door behind him before flopping next to his desk. "It is your birthday."
He rolled his eyes lightly as he fastened the rosette on his clothes, "It's not like I'm having the time of my life here."
"Right," They drawled, picking up one of the stray books on his table. "You're the type that hates when attention is all on you, huh?"
He stared at them pointedly before they laughed, "C'mon, at least appreciate all their efforts! They're kicking up quite the storm out there for your birthday."
Jamil stopped his movements, "Please tell me there aren't any animals."
"There are no animals."
"Prefect. Lying isn't good for you."
"Well, maybe I saw just one parrot–"
"That Kalim–"
They clapped, "Well, before you storm out, I have a proposal that I think you'd be interested in."
"A proposal?" Jamil huffed. "What, are you going to magically somehow make the party go away?"
There was a rustling sound that sounded awfully loud in the brief silence of the room. Jamil did a slow turn, seeing Kalim's carpet fluttering right next to the Prefect. There was a cheeky smile on their face as the looked at him.
"No."
"But I haven't even said anything yet!"
"Wait," Jamil held up a hand, effectively stopping their on-coming speech. "How did you even get to that? I thought I locked up it in the treasury."
"You see," They started, standing up to let the carpet wrap around them like a shawl. "I feel like Tassel has a sensor or something. It likes me quite a lot so it came to greet me when I was sneak— I mean, walking around."
"Tassel?" Jamil asked, watching as one of the carpet's corners shook in recognition. "You named the carpet?"
"Hey, Kalim liked the name," They pursed their lips as if offended. "Besides, the important part is that it likes the name. Now let's go already, or else it'll be too late."
"Late for what?" Jamil paid them no mind, instead reaching for his magic pen.
Which...wasn't there.
He let out a deep sigh, turning to see the Prefect dangling the pen from their grasp. He knew that they would go to great lengths to get things their way, using any trick that they could, yet...
"I guess Ruggie's lessons are working huh," They preened lightly at their achievement. "You didn't notice a thing!"
"That really isn't something to be proud of," He stood, approaching them. Well, it wasn't like he said 'no' in the first place. "So, where are we going?"
"Really? You're coming?"
Jamil looked away from that starry-eyed look of theirs, "Quickly now. Or would you like me to change my mind?" Now that got them moving, dragging Tassel into a prone position before helming the carpet.
"Before you ask, I got lessons from Kalim for this," They chimed in, patting the space right next to them. "So don't make this all for nothing." Jamil climbed on, reluctantly holding on to the flying carpet's edge.
With a few encouraging whispers to the carpet, the two set off into the darkening sky. The breeze that kissed his skin felt almost cool, heralded by the sun's dying light. And he couldn't take his eyes off the horizon.
"Hey, no looking!" They scolded over their shoulder. "It's no fun if you ruin the surprise!"
"Alright, alright," Jamil closed his eyes, holding on to the Prefect's shirt for purchase. "No need to yell." They really were something, asking him to ride blind on a magic carpet.
"You know, I feel like the thief from that story that Kalim told me about before," Their voice was closer, like they were sitting next to him." What did he say again? Ahem, 'Tell me, princess, when did you last let your heart decide'?"
"You're calling me the princess?" Jamil asked after a beat, confusing even himself when he indulged in their ramblings.
"I mean, I am playing the role of the thief, so naturally you're the princess," They snickered slightly. "Would you like me to serenade you too?"
If his eyes were open, he would've rolled them by now, "Just focus on getting us wherever we're going in one piece." And that was that, until Jamil felt their hand settle over his eyes as they came to a halt.
"Okay, ready?" They said, sounding like they were behind him now. "Take a step down, I'll guide you." Jamil could feel the heat of their hand at the small of his back, gently directing him as he took steps blindly on the sand.
"If sand ends up getting in my hair or this suit," He said in a warning tone. "You're going to be cleaning the Scarabia kitchens for a while."
"Yeah, yeah," They snorted; as if the possibility had never crossed their mind. "Just focus on walking, we're really close." The wind once again teased at his hair, ruffling the stiff folds of his suit jacket. He couldn't help but listen to the steady sound of their breathing, focusing on that and the yield of the sand underneath him.
And then he could see again.
His eyelashes fluttered as his world was set aglow once more, the sun's last rays clawing across the desert in a magnificent display. All above, the night sky desperately bled its colors into the day, as the night always yearns to be with its counterpart. At least that was what those fairytales told him. And now, he couldn't help but believe in it. He watched, entranced as the sun was swallowed by the horizon line, and as the moon rose, barely missing its counterpart by just a few seconds.
While the moment felt short to him, Jamil didn't know how long he stood there. He turned around, trying to find the shining shams to his muted qamar, and—
There they were.
Their face radiated with happiness, a delighted smile directed right at him. And just like how the sun's rays reflected off the moon, Jamil couldn't help but mirror it with his own smaller smile.
"Did you like my gift?" The words were spoken so softly that Jamil was sure it was the winds that carried them over to him; over the arm's length of space that valleyed between them.
"Wasn't it more like nature's gift to me?" Jamil couldn't help but feel the lightness in his shoulders as he bridged the gap, teasing on the tip of his tongue as he grinned.
"Hey, if I didn't convince you then you wouldn't have seen it!" They turned, and he followed entranced as they walked over the top of the sand dune. "You should give credit where credit's due." The last of the sun's light bathed them in petal red, making Jamil's heart beat harder against his ribcage as he realized that, oh. They were really that important to him all along.
"Let's go back to Tassel befo—"
The sand beneath them gave way, pitching their body over the edge of the dune. And Jamil lunged forward, his body crashing right into theirs and sending them both tumbling down the dune. He winced, drawing them closer to him as they kept falling at gravity's mercy, before finally slowing down to a slide.
A beat of silence spanned between them, punctuated by labored breathing.
"Jamil? Y-you good?" They coughed from where they were, still squished against his chest. He let go instantly feeling his face flame at their closeness.
"I'm...fine," Jamil groaned as pushed himself up on his elbows. They sat on their haunches, still halfway on his lap as they stared at him. His voice turned flat, "And you got sand in my hair. You got sand everywhere."
They laughed hysterically at that, throwing their head back, "Oh, man, I was thinking that maybe the roles got reversed, and you turned into the thief for a second, but...guess you're still the princess."
"This isn't funny," Jamil said, yet he felt the corners of his lips twitch into a smile. "I have a party to go to in a bit." He made no move to get up, finding the warmth of them comforting in the nighttime dessert.
"Well, isn't this celebration enough?" They asked, settling into a more comfortable position— now sitting on the sand, their legs monopolizing the space between his own as they faced him. "We've been celebrating you this whole time, after all."
His pulse jumped, "Since...since when have we been celebrating me?"
"Since I came to your room. The carpet ride, the sunset, walking up the sand dune, and even falling down the sand dune—while unplanned— it was all for you," They returned his stare unabashed. "Me being right here, right now...it's for you, senpai."
"...Thank you," The words were spoken in quiet, and this time the wind carried his words instead of theirs. It stirred up his loose hair and he couldn't care less at that moment. He had never seen such an earnest attempt at celebrating his birthday as the one that they had sprung on him.
"Hey, senpai..." They leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. "Could I give you another present...?"
His gaze dropped instantly to their lips and he knew he was fucked. Oh Sevens. Oh Sevens, Jamil was absolutely ruined. He wanted to kiss them. He wanted them to give him a kiss. That was not good. He closed his eyes instantly when they leaned in a bit more. That was until he felt the press of something against his cheek.
His eyes flew open and he could see something that looked like a....snake plush right in front of his face. A snake plush. A plush. You had to be— 
A shaky laugh tumbled out of his lips, "P-Prefect, I-I'm not...five."
"Hey, I thought it was perfect since it looks like you," They pulled the doll back making it nod. "Look, Little Viper, say hi to your predecessor."
"Did you just call that 'Little Viper'?" He stifled the fondness swelling in his chest even if the words weren't directed at him. Was it possible to feel envy for an inanimate object? Jamil really must've been going crazy.
"Would you rather I call it 'senpai' instead?" They were kidding, but Jamil was almost tempted to say 'yes'. Instead he took the plush from them, turning it in his palm. Okay, maybe it looked just a little bit like him. But he definitely wasn't going to admit it out loud.
"Now, let's get back before Kalim freaks out about you being gone," They held out a hand which Jamil immediately took. Tassel seemed to be floating just ahead of them, as if it was waiting for them to finish talking this whole time.
"And will you take responsibility for the sand?" He tugged at their entwined hands, drawing them just a little closer.
They blinked at him owlishly; strangely flustered, "Y-you mean the kitchen deal...right?" Sevens, what would happen if he leaned in and kissed them right then and the—
He patted their head, heat singing his neck once more, "Yes, I do. Now give me back my pen. I would like to maintain my reputation, at least amongst the other dorm members." They uncharacteristically handed him back the pen with no further gripes; something he attributed to their fluster earlier. He made quick work of the sand; the spell coming to him easily after years of practice, leaving them sand free in no time. He joined them on the carpet once more after fixing up his hair.
This time, he sat behind them, resting his chin against their shoulder as they drove. It was warmer that way, he decided to tell himself, trying not to notice how stiff the Prefect's shoulders were. Maybe he wasn't the only one who was...struggling with their feelings.
"Hey, Prefect," Jamil murmured lowly, his lips close enough to brush their ear. "Could I make a request?"
They flinched slightly before relaxing once more, "Mm? F-for your birthday?"
He clenched his fist as he spoke again, "In the future, I... Would it be okay if I..."
"I-If you...?" They asked, and Jamil could almost feel the quickening thud of their heart pressed against his front.
"Come with me on a trip in the future," Jamil decided. "I'll make sure you have fun." He settled for something simple. It would be too hard to voice those complicated feelings with careless words. And there would always be next time.
"Yes," They said quickly before letting out a short breath. "I mean. I would love to. As long as I don't have to save up too many thaumarks to go."
"It's a promise, sukkar," Jamil secretly smiled, hoping that they couldn't feel it from where he was leaning against their shoulder.
Maybe birthdays celebrated were not a waste of time. Maybe it was worth making a fanfare over for once. Maybe going on outlandish carpet rides with someone that makes his heart feel alive was exactly the way to celebrate those days. Maybe this was the way he wanted to celebrate his birthdays from now on.
All that he knew was that he would enjoy this moment while it lasted; before he was thrown into the party that would be thrown for him. And besides, if he needed a little break then...what was stopping him from stealing into the night with them once again?
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tysm for reading ! i hope you enjoyed the fluff ^^ if you'd like to check out more jamil viper works, or otherwise, here's my masterlist :D
[ tiny factoids / translations for the fic !! ]
kunafa is a dessert that's made in many arab countries ! the dessert is comprised of a crispy layer of shredded pastry moulded around a cheese or cream filling. it's usually served straight from the oven with a healthy drizzle of sugar syrup :D writing this is making me want to eat it...but here's a link to a kunafa recipe for the curiouser !
qamar / shams : these two words mean 'moon' and 'sun' respectively in arabic. and as for the tale of the moon and the sun being lovers...it was a story that i heard when i was younger though i'm not sure of its origin (i'd love to know if someone does know ^^ drop by my ask box !!)
sukkar : haha. yeah, this basically means 'sugar' in arabic. it's jamil flirting with the prefect. arabic endearments are just 10x more romantic to me, especially from jamil <33
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kierancaz · 7 months
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Does anyone have fic recs for twst that are like Yuu centric and super long ?? I started a fic that is really good but literally only has 8 chapters and hasn’t been updated since like 2020 so I need smth similar to read 😭😭
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Victim
📌ao3 link
summary: More treasures than could fill a cave, more leisure than an oasis, more willing and able bodies than could fill a ravine, and Kalim would give it all up in a heartbeat to keep Jamil by his side. or, After Jamil's overblot, Kalim finds himself isolated in his home, reevaluating the only true friendship he's ever had. He should probably stay away from Jamil. He doesn't, and it's for the better.
✦pairing✦ JamiKali
✦CW✦ suicidal ideation, Kalim kills a guy but its for Jamil so-
✦tags✦ Introspection, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post Book 4, Pre-Slash
✦word count✦ 4k+
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄✧⋄⋆ fic below⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄
Jamil was right. Kalim was undeniably, in mind and soul, selfish. 
His knife-sharp words had dug an open wound into Kalim which hadn’t stopped bleeding since his overblot. It had been two weeks since the event, and Kalim found himself back in his own home. After hearing reports of “magical abnormalities” at Scarabia, his parents had requested that Kalim and Jamil return home until the term started again. No one knew what had happened during winter break, and in perhaps the last unspoken bond between Jamil and Kalim, they would never find out. It had been five days since they had returned home, and he hadn’t seen Jamil once. The palace was big enough to never interact without arousing any suspicion. Kalim’s room was essentially its own luxury suite- he didn’t have to leave it, so he didn’t. The space felt large and empty without another’s presence, and Kalim was left to fill the void with the things Jamil had said. 
With nearly a week of isolated thinking on it, Kalim knew that he was selfish. Maybe not in worldly things- he had enough of those to satisfy the greediest man a hundred lifetimes over. A verifiable army of people willing to flip themselves inside out just to get on the heir’s good side, allowing him to bypass any and all struggles that an average mortal might face. Of course, none of this was necessary: Kalim was nothing if not charitable, and despite the displeasure of the Asim treasurers, he was more than willing to give back where he could. 
And Kalim didn’t want any of it. 
More treasures than could fill a cave, more leisure than an oasis, more willing and able bodies than could fill a ravine, and Kalim would give it all up in a heartbeat to keep Jamil by his side. Maybe not physically- Kalim would never force Jamil to stay somewhere he hated (not that Kalim knew Jamil hated him until recently). His heart would be enough, wherever Jamil’s body was, his love would placate Kalim. Kalim wanted the one thing that wasn’t- couldn’t- be handed over to him, and despite his riches, he couldn’t let it go. 
Kalim was selfish. 
In all honesty, Kalim knew that somewhere, deep down, he knew what Jamil was doing to him before his overblot. He could’ve- should’ve- said something to Jamil, no matter how badly the conversation would’ve gone. But the idea of losing the only person that had ever only helped Kalim and never harmed, the only person that had ever stayed. Kalim, tactless, cemented excuses to his lash-line and greedily continued his blissful naivety. 
He wished for a moment more of peace, and it had nearly cost him everything.
(It had nearly cost him Jamil.)
Kalim remembered a conversation he had with Azul when they were cast into the desert. 
“He betrayed you, Kalim. Don’t you understand that? Aren’t you angry?”
Even now, weeks later, he wouldn’t call it a betrayal. It wasn’t fair to Jamil.
It would break Kalim.
Ah, perhaps he was being selfish even now. Perhaps Jamil had wanted to betray Kalim, wanted Kalim to actually boil into rage, give Jamil a decent opponent to pit his years of oppression against. Even this Kalim could not give him. 
Kalim vouching for Jamil did nothing to nullify the brutal whisperings of the Scarabia students. Some lamented Kalim’s inefficiency, his spinelessness in being controlled by Jamil in the first place and his continued failure to remove Jamil from his post. Others, less scared of the potential recoil from the vice-housewarden, spoke of Jamil as a ruthless dark magician. An insignificant, ungrateful moon that stole its light from the ever generous sun. 
Kalim had heard worse rumors about himself, and figured the students were entitled to their opinions. (He knew Jamil had heard worse about himself, too, and that he probably didn’t care about the ramblings of some third-rate underclassmen).
(No one but Jamil’s opinion mattered, anyways.)
It had been a… vaguely mutual decision to cut contact as much as possible after Jamil’s overblot. No longer bound by his facade of complacency, Jamil had made it very clear very quickly that he had no intention of looking after Kalim for the time being. Kalim didn’t mind that, really. He wanted Jamil to do what made him happy, and if seeing Kalim as little as possible made up for years of Kalim’s blindness to his feelings, then Kalim would gladly oblige. 
(Secretly, Kalim felt as though he had been ripped in two- his only lifeline to real, truthful connection severed. He barely slept, barely spoke, barely moved. Sometimes, when the moon shone clearly overhead, Kalim would sit on the balcony, legs dangling 14 stories over the Asim gardens, and wonder if it would’ve been better for Jamil if Kalim had just gone along with his plan and died. Jamil wouldn’t do anything for Kalim that he wasn’t obliged to do by familial pressure- Kalim knew that now. But Kalim would do anything for Jamil. Right now, if Jamil were to knock on his door and ask him to slit his own throat, Kalim would be dead before he hit the floor. If only Jamil would ask something of him.
Dizzily, he wondered if the scented candles Jamil used to light for his baths looked forward to being used.) 
Despite their lack of contact, Kalim still heard a knock on his door twice a day. Outside would be freshly cooked food, sealed in containers with a tamper-proof charm in place. Kalim clung to these moments like no other, even though Jamil was always gone by the time he got to the door.
Jamil wanted to be left alone; it was obvious. After spending almost 17 years of your life with someone you despised, of course you wouldn’t want to see them. When school started up again, it would be harder for Jamil to avoid Kalim- as Housewarden and Vice of Scarabia, there would be no end to the amount of time they would be forced to be together. Especially since Kalim was, admittedly, useless at his leadership duties without Jamil as his loyal advisor.
But Kalim was selfish.
5 days was the longest he had ever gone without seeing Jamil. Not a single soul had come to check on him in his near week of being home, not that Kalim blamed them for that. It was Jamil’s job to check on him, supposedly. (On the second day, Kalim realized it never should have been his job. He never should have been forced to be Kalim’s servant in body and friend in words- it was only time before he became Kalim’s enemy in mind.) 
Fleetingly, he wondered how many days it would take someone to stumble upon his body if he died here. He wondered if, in the end, it would be Jamil who found him. 
Kalim, alone in his room, was unraveling at the seams. 
He wanted to see Jamil. He needed to see Jamil, make sure he was still ok. Make sure, even if childishly, that he still existed outside of Kalim’s view. Just a glimpse of him would be enough- it was late, if Jamil’s ironclad routine still held true, he would be asleep. It would be quick.
Kalim was so, truly, selfish. 
Smooth, cool stone chilled Kalim’s bare feet as he padded lightly through the hall. The estate was built to ward off heat, and a brisk night breeze came through the paneless windows, palm leaves swaying in the wind. He shivered, pulling his arms closer to his chest. Jamil would chide him for walking around in pajamas in the middle of the night. He would have, anyway.
Luckily for him, Jamil’s room was not too far from Kalim's own. When they were around 10 years old, it was decided that Jamil would stay in suites designated for higher ranking members of the Asim family rather than the servant residences where his own family lived. Officially, the reasoning was that Jamil had been such a loyal retainer to his young master Asim that he was being rewarded with lavish living conditions. At the time, Kalim was just thrilled to be closer to his best friend- they could have sleepovers practically every night! Now though, Kalim wondered if Jamil was moved closer to his room just so he could serve him better, protect him more easily if someone were to stage an attack. Did Jamil even want to move out of his family’s home, back then? Did he cry when his parents told him he had to leave, or did he just accept it apathetically, resigned to his life sentence? Kalim wasn’t sure which was worse. 
At the expense of a 10 year old Jamil, a 17 year old Kalim easily traced the dark path between their rooms, expertly dodging open windows and lights shining from the rooms of those who had not yet gone to sleep or had just woken up. It would be better for everyone if he wasn’t seen. 
Kalim slowed as he approached the door, muscle memory guiding him directly in front of it. He paused, breathing deeply. Jamil’s senses were needle sharp after years of guarding Kalim, he would have to be exceedingly careful if he didn’t want Jamil to wake up and notice him. Somewhat ironically, Kalim’s own senses were sharp, if not sharper, than Jamil’s; attuned to hearing even the slightest changes in footsteps or the faintest smell in a freshly prepared dish. 17 years of protecting someone, no matter how you felt about them, would hone your abilities to react, defend, fight. 17 years of expecting to be murdered, even if you were known as an unbearably loud person, would allow you to nearly disappear.      
Kalim’s nose twitched, a peculiar scent drifting from the room. Sharp, almost as if someone had made sparks from sanding down metal, but capped with something more heavy. Magic. 
It would be near imperceptible to the average mage, but Kalim was on par with beastmen when it came to his uncanny ability to identify things by scent. Normally, he would expect this smell to be close to other practicing magic users, especially if they were back at Night Raven, with students laboriously practicing spells over and over until they had worn themselves out. 
But didn’t overblotting stop you from using magic normally for a few weeks? Kalim remembered Leona using his own overblot as an excuse to get out of Housewarden duties, citing his unpredictable magic as “too dangerous” to do work. Even Riddle had taken some time off after his overblot, much to the surprise of Kalim. When he asked Riddle about it a few days after he returned, Riddle explained that overblotting would leave the victim, no matter how strong they were, in a very weakened state afterwards, before he had quickly changed the subject. 
Kalim squinted. Something wasn’t adding up.
Silently, he took another step forward. The uncomfortably familiar smell of molten copper burned Kalim’s nostrils, and he clutched his hand to his face to stop himself from coughing.
No. Jamil must have cut himself on something, or maybe his wounds from the battle reopened. But then, why the thick scent of magic that clogged his sinuses the closer he moved to the door? Jamil shouldn’t be able to do magic like that right now, not without risking himself. It was 3 in the morning, what would he even be doing?
Something moved sharply in Kalim’s peripheral, and his eyes quickly followed the movement. From under Jamil’s door, lit by the moon, shadows danced mockingly at Kalim.     
Nauseous, he recalled a conversation overheard a few years prior. Kalim, looking for Jamil, had overheard him talking to someone. Not wanting to intrude, Kalim had waited behind a large stone pillar until an “appropriate” time made itself available. Accidentally, he began to eavesdrop.
“I’m lucky they only go after Kalim.”
“Jamil! Don’t say things like that.”
“Why not? It’s true, Najma. It’s a good thing most of his kidnappers are as stupid as they are shortsighted.”
“What do you mean?”
“If they take Kalim, someone will just go and save him, taking them out in the process. Me? I’m not worth the manpower. The Asims would pay the ransom and wouldn’t send anyone to investigate… I’m curious to see what I’d be worth, though.”
Kalim had soundlessly fled the scene, imploring himself to forget what he had just heard. When Jamil found him in his room hours later, he either didn’t notice or didn’t care to ask about Kalim’s red-rimmed eyes and blotchy face.
Surely not. Kalim crept forward. Surely the world would not be as cruel as to force Jamil to suffer further, not after he had nearly perished for simply wanting to be free. He held his breath, hand reaching for the cool brass of the doorknob. Surely he was simply over-tired- anxious from days of solitude away from Jamil’s watchful eyes. Slowly, he turned the knob. The door was unlocked.
The world had never been particularly kind to them, had it.
A horrible portrait invaded his sight, lit like a silhouette. Jamil, looking smaller than Kalim had ever seen him, struggled fruitlessly in the grasp of a horrifically muscled man. His hair had been ripped out of its careful braids, arms bent at an unnatural angle. Blood trickled like satin down the side of him, and the smirking man held a silver, red-stained dagger at his throat. 
Time seemed to slow as two pairs of eyes locked on Kalim’s intrusion. Quickly, he realized a few things. 1) The man was unmasked, meaning his plan was to grab Jamil and leave as quickly as possible without being seen. 2) His towering physique confirmed this- assassins tended to be slimmer, more agile, needing only to slip through a window and take out their prey. This was a bruiser more commonly seen in the market’s alleyways than infiltrating the estate, Kalim was more than familiar with his type. Their goal was simply to take, not kill, by any violent means necessary. 3) Even in Jamil’s weakened, magicless state, the intruder hadn’t bothered to use any spells himself to make the job easier. He wasn’t a mage.
Kalim’s heart beat loudly in his ears, drowning out the surrounding sound. No one moved, the struggle frozen in a fragile state of shock. Kalim’s eyes flitted to Jamil’s face, taking in the sight of him. His mouth was hidden behind one of the large hands of his attacker, but his eyes met with Kalim’s. 
For the first time in 17 years, Jamil’s gaze stared back at him with fear.
“Don’t move, little rich boy, and your servant will be just fine.” The man smirked. “What’s one of these, anyways? You have hundreds, I’m sure you’ll be fine until we get our money’s worth.”
Kalim used to vomit after Jamil saved him, hands still bloody from whatever sad battle had played out. He stopped getting nauseous after the 5th time it happened. After a year, he only found himself worried about the state of Jamil, carefully checking him over for any cuts or scrapes. 
Jamil had killed for Kalim countless times, under instruction. Kalim wasn’t sure if Jamil would kill for him under different circumstances. But Kalim would do anything for Jamil.
A tidal wave of emotion battered the rocky cliffs of his mind. The ever-present naivety that had been hairline fracturing for a lifetime, held together only by the fear of nihilism was chipping, cracking. Slabs of his principles and boulders of his morals crashed into the white-capped water of his soul, forming a whirlpool that churned and pulled.
Freezing cold something pulsed through his body.
Terror. Rage. Love.
In a flash, magic poured out of him, glinting like razor blades under the light of the moon. Deadly fast, it crashed into its target. 
The man holding Jamil froze, the muscles in his arms tensing violently. Kalim cricked his neck, and the intruder fell sideways, staring at the young heir in shock. Suddenly, he coughed. And coughed, and kept coughing, hands grasping futilely at his own throat as he began to choke up water, fresh and clear. His writhing gave way to desperate pleads.
“Plea-ugh. Mer- mercy.” He gasped in between breaths. 
The tempest of Kalim’s soul sneered. Mercy? What mercy had they ever given him? What mercy had they given Jamil? There was no answer, and the ocean rose again. 
Vessels burst in the man’s face, quickly overtaken by the mounting pressure within his body. His tears flowed equal parts blood and water and his eyes bulged from his skull like an unfortunate fish drawn too quickly from the depths. 
In hindsight, it was almost too quick. 
The man let out a final wheeze, perhaps a scream if his lungs hadn’t already burst, and his bloated corpse fell uselessly to the floor.
His life, like poetry, spilled into cool stone. 
Kalim stood, fists clenched hard enough to draw blood, body thrumming with the aftershocks of his magic. It seemed fitting that the most powerful storm he ever summoned was one for Jamil alone.
Jamil.
Kalim rushed forward, gathering Jamil in his arms. The latter breathed harshly, wincing as his injured arm was moved. Kalim shut his eyes, willing the reserves of his magic to come to the surface. He muttered enchantments as he skimmed his fingers across Jamil’s skin, wounds knitting themselves slowly back together. He would still need to be tended to by a proper physician, but healing magic was instinctual, and known to grow stronger with intent… Jamil would be safely in the clear, if not a little uncomfortable.
A hush fell over them as Kalim finished his work. Normally, after Jamil had protected him from someone (killed someone for Kalim), Kalim would try to fill the silence by chatting about some inane thing. Whether or not Jamil responded was besides the point- he just wanted to let Jamil know he felt safe, even if the words he spoke fell on deaf ears.
This felt different, somehow, and Kalim for once found himself with nothing to say. Instead, he allowed himself to focus on the sound of Jamil’s steady breathing- clear airways, no major injuries, no lingering scent of poison. Kalim had learned to appreciate this single comfort: the calm after a storm, and the two of them safe on the beach. 
“Kalim.” Jamil’s voice was somewhat gravely, most likely from being choked. Kalim gripped Jamil’s shoulder tighter.
“Jamil, are you feeling alright?” 
“You made sure of that.” He huffed, and Kalim felt the contents of his stomach churn anxiously. He couldn’t think of something to say, so he didn’t.
“Kalim. That man…”
“He’s dead.”
“Ah…” Jamil coughed weakly, body shuddering against Kalim’s. Kalim watched silently as the last of Jamil’s cuts sealed themselves up. 
“Your braids came undone.”
Jamil shifted against him, and Kalim paused to see if he would turn to face him. He didn’t.
“It takes a long time to do them, right?” He nodded without responding. 
Gently, Kalim allowed his fingers to brush through the ends of Jamil’s long hair. How long had it been since he’d touched it? Since they were kids, maybe. Since Jamil was forced to lower himself to Kalim, and stopped allowing Kalim to do anything for him. 
Brushing back a section over Jamil’s shoulder, Kalim began to weave patterns into his hair, the night breeze working against his progress. 
Kalim’s hands were not shaking, and Jamil’s breath didn’t hitch, breaking the silence as he cried.
~~~~~
“Kalim, your food is getting cold.” Jamil sighed, folding up some of Kalim’s school shirts. 
“Sorry, Jamil. I’m not that hungry.” Kalim gazed out the window, halfheartedly stirring his cup of tea.
“It’ll be a waste if it goes off.”
Kalim was lost in thought, the familiarity of the situation somehow off putting. It had been one full day since Jamil’s attempted kidnapping, and one hour since Jamil had knocked on Kalim’s door, waking him up for the morning with breakfast in hand. Kalim wouldn’t lie, a part of him was absolutely thrilled to have Jamil back taking care of him. The longest week of Kalim’s life had come to a close, in theory it would be easy to simply return to their normal routine. After all, they would return to Night Raven in 2 days time- it would be better to go back to how they were. 
In the past, Kalim would gladly take this opportunity without a second glance. But now, knowing what he knew about how Jamil felt… Did he want to? Was a facade of subservience and friendship truly better than the truth? 
Kalim knew now that he didn’t have to work for most of the things in his life- they’d all been handed to him without his knowledge. He knew now that those achievements were frail and paper thin, and the happiness he had paraded was one of the fingers that had strangled Jamil’s freedom. Maybe if Kalim worked for the things he cared about just a little more, they wouldn’t disappear like an illusion in his grasp.
“Jamil?”
“What is it?” He didn’t look over, continuing to pack away Kalim’s clothes. Kalim took a breath, letting the spoon rest in his now cold tea.
“We need to talk.” Jamil halted his work.
“About?” 
Kalim stood, walking over to stand behind Jamil.
“All of…” Kalim gestured around, “This. Everything.” Us.
Jamil resumed, walking to Kalim’s closet and pulling out more of his uniforms, expertly avoiding eye contact.
“I suppose it was only a matter of time.” Kalim blinked.
“For what?”
“You know for what. Look, I’m not gonna tell you I’m sorry about what I did to you, because I’m not. School’s starting in a couple days anyways, and you’ll have forgotten all about my overblot-”
“Your overblot?”
Finally, Jamil turned to face him. 
“Obviously. Don’t worry, once we’re back at school we’ll go back to normal anyways, I’ll take care of everything.” Jamil rolled his eyes, but Kalim could tell he was hiding something. Kalim clenched his fists.
“No.”
“What?” He raised his eyebrow, looking incredulously at Kalim.
“No, I,” Kalim was overtaken by a resounding urge. Jamil, in all his genius, didn’t even know what Kalim was talking about. He had to make it clear now, no matter the consequences. 
“I don’t care about your overblot, Jamil! I mean- I care, I care about you, I care about how you were feeling so bad so quietly that you had no choice but to self destruct- but not in the way that maybe I should. I’m not- I haven’t been angry at you. I’m scared.” Kalim’s eyes welled up with tears, and he steadfastly ignored them.  
“It was bad enough to lose you as my closest friend. But the other night I almost lost you for real. All for what, because you have to protect me? Because I’m stupid and naive and all that other stuff you said? Because I’m an Asim?” Kalim’s chest heaved, and he brought his arm up to hide his face and avoid looking at Jamil’s. 
Jamil was silent, and Kalim didn’t want to imagine what sort of expression he was making. 
“What happened the other night wasn’t your fault. You know how those guys are, they could’ve gone after anyone. It’s all money to them.” Jamil’s voice was slow and steady, and Kalim tried to cling to it. 
“It was my fault, though! If people weren’t always coming after me, you would’ve been safe!” 
“You can’t help who you were born to, Kalim.” He chuckled humorlessly, “And neither can I.”
Maybe, at some point earlier in his life, Kalim would have accepted that. They were both simply filling their roles, an heir and a servant, both seemingly content with their positions. Kalim would eventually take over the family business with Jamil at his side, and maybe they could live in some sort of amicable facade with a want for nothing. But Kalim, given everything, wanted none of it.
“I would give up my name for you, Jamil. I would give up everything.” He took a step closer, forcing Jamil to look at him.
“I would give you everything.”
For once, Jamil looked at a loss for words. Silver eyes filled with an emotion that Kalim couldn’t quite read, and his lips parted as if he were going to speak. No sound came out, and Kalim looked away.
“I’m sorry.” Kalim spoke unnaturally quietly. “For everything.”
A moment passed, and Kalim began to turn away. Suddenly, Kalim felt himself pulled into a hug. Jamil brought him close, arms wound tightly around his back and waist. Kalim gasped softly, immediately relaxing with Jamil’s touch. He brought his arms around Jamil, and took the chance to listen to his heartbeat. When was the last time Jamil had hugged him, and not the other way around? Had it ever happened? Kalim didn’t know. 
“We’re not friends.” 
Kalim smiled weakly into Jamil’s chest in spite of himself.
“Ok.”
“I won't baby you anymore- you need to learn how to do things for yourself.”
“That’s fine.”
“But if what you said about us being rivals or equals or whatever is true, then you have a long way to go.”
Oh.
“You have a lot to learn if you want to even get close to catching up. I won’t hold back.” Then, quieter. “Guess I have to stick around to see if you can do it.”
Kalim smiled, and he felt more alive than he had in almost a week.
“I won’t let you down, Jamil.”
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celestcelest · 15 days
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Oh, How Time Flies
a big shout out to the 6hr toy story 4 video essay I watched while making this
It’s been 8 years
8 years since he’s left his mother's house
8 years since he’s set off to finally have a normal life
8 years and he still doesn’t know what that involves.
No matter what Riddle tells others he can’t hide the fact that his mother still holds control over his life. He’s a doctor now, he wakes up every day at 5 am sharp, keeps a healthy diet, he even has a big library where he spends his free time searching for ways to become an even better doctor. It’s the perfect life! or so he says. Because despite the reassuring, despite him going out with his friends, and despite him putting on a happier face he can’t escape the fact that he’s living the life that his mother forced him to live, the life that he promised himself he’d escape. The realization came to him after he and Trey went out for coffee. It was only a passing comment, but it had left him devastated. “You really like black coffee do you?”. He had laughed at the comment but that night, after he was finally able to take in everything, that small comment still bothered him. He did like black coffee, at least he thinks he does. The flavor wasn’t that great but it kept him awake when he had night duties at the hospital, plus his mother said that black coffee helps improve memory! oh.
Riddle didn’t sleep that night, he even took a sick day which was unheard of. All those years spent thinking he was getting better, that this life was something HE wanted, crumbled in the span of one off handed comment. He didn’t know what to do, he wanted to tell someone but he felt that if he did it would only solidify the fact. He spent his sick day trying to figure out where he went wrong. How had this happened? Where did he fail? Was leaving his mother even worth it if both options lead to the same outcome? Maybe he should call her? Maybe she’ll have some answers? She always knew what was best for him after all so maybe if he begs she’ll take him back… A split second thought but one that left him horrified just the same. He needed to get his mind off the topic, and quick. A trip to his favorite coffee shop should do! Which one would that be again? He’s never really thought about it before, he usually just goes to the one near his house so maybe that’s it? Nevermind maybe he should read a book! But all he has in his library are medical textbooks? Does he even have anything he likes? What does he like? Surely he has something he likes he just has to think… strawberry tarts… YES he likes strawberry tarts! He hasn’t had them in a while though, 3 years to be exact, so can he even be sure he likes them now? Why did he even become a doctor? Sure he likes helping those in need but did he really want this to be his entire life? People say your likes and wishes make you who you are so if he doesn’t have either…who is he? Who is Riddle Rosehearts? His mother. Riddle really is his mothers son after all.
He was running now, he doesn’t know where but at this point he doesn’t care. He finally stopped at a park and collapsed. It was 1 am no one was around and everything was closed, he was alone. Riddle Rosehearts was alone and he had no one to turn to, not even the mother who cursed him with her love. Riddle finally let himself cry. He hasn’t cried since his time at NRC, which is ironic because he feels as helpless as he did then. Nothing really changed since that day after his overblot. It seemed like things did for a while but his mothers influence was a part of him. It will ALWAYS be a part of him. Riddle didn’t really think there was a point to wasting more of his life living like his mother wanted, he didn’t see a point to anything really. He had finally stopped crying and just stared at the stars while surrounded by nothing but trees. Not moving. Not thinking. Just staring at those beautiful stars he wished to reach. He was tired.
...
Something kept nudging his arm and with a groan he turned to look at what it was. Oh, it’s a hedgehog. He hasn’t seen one of them since he was a house warden, he didn’t even know this park had any. He snapped out of his thoughts when the hedgehog started climbing on top of him. He tried to softly nudge it off but it just curled up into him even more. That was when Riddle noticed that it was injured, and despite his mind telling him not to, he slowly made his way back home with the hedgehog in his arms. He found it very easy to bandage the poor thing up since he had some experience from when he was a house warden. He really did like taking care of them, he never had any pets growing up. his mother used to say that animals were nothing but filthy, disease-ridden creatures who had no place in their home. Before he knew it, he had fashioned up a make-shift bed for the little thing to sleep in. Riddle was still lost in thought thinking about what he should do now that he had made his revelation when the hedgehog interrupted his thinking with its little head rubbing his arm. Ah he finally found something he likes.
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twstfanfic · 1 year
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(Grand)Mother Knows Best
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Reader: Gender Neutral
Relationship: Ruggie Bucchi x Reader
Status: Complete
Number of Chapters: 1
Author: AshenRainbows (on Ao3)
Warnings: None
What to expect: Fluff, Healthy Family Relationships, food as a love language.
Thoughts (No Spoilers):
Love it, love how Ruggie’s Granny describes him, and love that Ruggie and the reader have a sweet bonding moment.
Being honest I would totally fall for food too, my own Grandmother would say “A Barriga llena, corazón contento” or in English “A Full belly means happy heart”.
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theonemarvelousness · 11 months
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Okay I know I’m insane/lh/j but. Rook x Trey.
If Trey wasn't mistaken... Rook's kept his gaze on him far more often than normal lately. Not that anyone can actually escape the eccentric student's gaze. Though, he's even noticed it with Vil there. That's what's odd. Isn't that the center of his focus?
"I find, Trey." Rook interrupts his train of thought, and for one without the embarrassing nickname. "You are quite distracted today."
"I suppose I am." The baker offers kindly. "And you've been a lot more focused on me lately. Is there a reason? I'm not interested in being prey, and I doubt I'd give you a good chase."
The sly grin resembles a fox more than anything. "Oui."
"Could you let me know? Did I mess up shaving?" It's happened. He's not perfect.
"Mmm. Perhaps..."
Rook might be shorter, but he is quite a bit more intimidating than Heartslabyul's Vice Housewarden. That green-eyed gaze is as sharp as ever. As intense as it's ever been.
"Perhaps?" Why does it make him so nervous, that his heart skips a beat?
Of course, it's Rook Hunt. The man that goes in for the kill, or goes to get killed. It shouldn't exactly surprise Trey that he goes right in for a kiss. Strong hands cupping his cheeks, launching into it with force meant to stun! And boy, he is stunned! It's so sudden--and his glasses even slip a little off his face as he's put into the most surprising kiss of his entire life.
Wait.
Why is Rook Hunt kissing him?!
Sure, he pulls back. And in all honesty he is stunned speechless.
"I hope that answers your questions, mon cher~"
Like a fish, his mouth opens and closes soundlessly a few times as he pushes up his glasses to put Rook Hunt back into full focus.
"No. No, no it really doesn't, Rook."
"Ah! Then I must be more clear!"
He's kissed again! This time quicker, with a laugh from Rook's lips. "Mon amour. Is it clear enough now?"
Oh.
Oh.
"I--maybe a third, and I might get it?"
Rook's arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into a third kiss. "Of course."
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twst-cry-me-a-river · 2 years
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Hello hello my name is Noël Pluto and I made this blog thanks to the suggestion of my friend (thank you @/crudciferx) for a new Twisted Wonderland fic I’m working on called Cry Me a River. The chapters, memes I made, and art will be posted here.
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milfhandholder · 2 years
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Shout out to that one time I accidentally wrote Madol as Mora in a fic
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trappolia · 2 months
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HOT THINGS HE DOES ── ace trappola + gn!reader, 540
i. quite literally doesn’t care about your personal space, in a way that makes your heart flutter. even long before you start dating, he takes every opportunity to wrap his arms around you, pulling you against him or onto his lap. the way he touches you is casual and subtle — an arm around your shoulders or his chin on your shoulder — but it’s obvious enough that the new students at nrc automatically assume the two of you are dating when they first see you together.
ii. grins whenever he sees you. no matter how bad his rbf is or how sour is mood may be may be, it’s always resolved with a simple look at you. his lips pull into a lopsided grin when your eyes meet across the room, and he always offers you a two-finger salute in greeting. sometimes, when he feels extra playful, his grin becomes eerily similar to a smirk, and instead of giving you a salute, he’ll wink at you. it’s ridiculous, but it makes your cheeks warm anyway. you’re convinced that everything he does in life is to get a reaction out of you, one way or another.
iii. gossips with you, a lot. the way he whispers into your ear without taking his eyes off the person he’s talking about is uncannily similar to the mean girls you see on tv, which is why you’re embarrassed to admit that the way his breath brushes against your skin as he leans close to talk about that guy’s horrible sense of colour coordination makes your heart flutter. it’s even worse when he decides to go an extra mile for whatever reason and wrap his arm around your waist rather than simply leaning to you, pulling you closer and make your heart do all sorts of flips in your chest.
iv. slaps your butt. it’s stupid and immature and he literally has no reason to do it! but he does it anyway. he does it when you’re picking something up in front of him, or when he passes by you, or even just as a greeting. it’s a quick smack that is only loud enough for the people in close proximity to notice, but it’s still embarrassing. it doesn’t help that he has no shame, simply smirking whenever you turn to give him a look.
v. has a fixation with your lips. whenever he zones out around you, his eyes always end up on your lips— though, you’re not quite sure if he’s actually zoning out. whenever he realises that you’ve caught him staring, he simply gives you a lopsided smile and continues on with his day. he’s also the type of guy who carries the type of lip balm that you dip your finger in to apply it, and there’s nothing to stop him from applying it on you when he notices that your lips are dry or chapped. his eyes are focused as he drags his finger across your lips, and he has an odd habit of dragging your bottom lip down slightly as a finishing touch. you end up being the one staring, and when he notices, he simply quirks a brow with a smirk and asks, “what? d’you want a kiss?”
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© trappolia 2024
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raverin-2 · 5 months
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Twisted Wonderland Masterlist
Please do not repost my works! Remember that these characters are not mine, unless I distinctly say I have inputted an original character.
I hope you enjoy reading everything that I write, including my Twisted Wonderland fics and whatever else comes from my Patreon!
~~Until I have three fics for a pairing, this will be the main masterlist.~~
~✨ complete~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One-Shots
Scrabble My Way To A Date ✨ (Azul/Idia)
~Azul has decided, after a year of hell with overblots and mess, he isn’t going to deny his feelings anymore. So, with the help of the gaming club and Ortho, he sets out on his mission to ask Idia to go on a date with him... If it doesn’t go well, then he knows he’ll have to resort to straight up asking or drafting up contracts for it instead. All he wants is a date and to finally give into the urge to kiss Idia when he’s being adorable.
I'll Give You The Only Thing You Can ✨ (JamiKali)
~Kalim decides he's going to set Jamil free, but an impromptu meeting with their parents to discuss the overblot speeds the process up. It also happens to make Kalim snap in a way he never expected to snap at his own mother, but at least he knows Jamil is free and the Viper family is safely protected and can be freed as well under the Al-Asim name. Now, now he just has to stop worrying Jamil while he moves to his new dorm, and everything will be okay.
Chaptered
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traumxrei-archive · 2 years
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【 the shape of one's heart 】
author's note: hello and welcome to yet another leona kingscholar fic sjkdfjsf (the amount of l/ve i have for this man...unimaginable !!) part a birthday fic, part a character study, and part fluffy romance, i hope you enjoy reading <33 (UPDATE, aug 3: i rewrote the ending of iv. capture >:333)
characters: leona kingscholar x gn! prefect, ruggie bucchi, jack howl, falena kingscholar, cheka kingscholar
word count: 4.5k
tags: leona character study !! (or an attempt at one), happy birthday to dummy lion, your honor i love him therefore i psychoanalyze him, fluff is justice, but also there's angst, so watch out haha—, him and prefect are just <333, i. ii. iii. are mostly char study n iv. is where most of the romance lies
[ or read it on ao3 ]
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i. gloves
It all started with an innocent question. "Why do you wear gloves all the time?" Leona blinked at them, yet he gave no answer. Instead, he recalled the first time he felt the coarseness of sand against the palm of his hands.
His unique magic came to him violently; suddenly. It really did feel like a sand storm had swept him up into the air, his body all but pinwheeling from the loss of control. He remembered his vision shaking with anger that the younger him couldn't contain; the laughter and mocking of some petty servants still reverberating in his ears.
He remembered bumping into a vase, his fingers lightly brushing against its smooth surface before it dissolved into grains of sand; falling through his fingers as if it never existed in the first place. He reeled back in horror, grabbing onto anything to cushion his fall. It just so happened that he grabbed a fistful of drapery; all of which fell in a shower of sand around him.
When he looked up he could see the servants scattering away from him, terrified looks on their faces. He remembered being scared of himself, vision blurring as he explained to Falena and his father what happened.
That was the day King's Roar first surfaced. A Unique Magic was supposed to be a blessing, and yet…it never felt that way to Leona. If anything, it felt like another burden was added onto his shoulders. (The rumors around him began to grow even larger, and it wasn’t rare for him to hear that he had “the power to destroy their kingdom.” Leona simply tried to ignored them.)
Leona started wearing gloves not long after that. He couldn't control his power all that well for the first month or two. The gloves gave him enough time to react; if he felt them turning into dust he could let go of whatever or whoever he was holding.
Even after all those years, the habit stayed. Every day he tugged on leather gloves, feeling a minute yet present comfort at the feel of them. He only ever took them off during Magift matches. The only potential casualties were the Magift disc and his magic pen after all.
(Leona tried not to recall the feeling of skin flaking underneath his touch; the intention to hurt finally winning over his rationality. But whenever he saw the scar on Ruggie's arm he could only remember the memory with bitter remorse. Never again, he vowed.)
He flicked the herbivore's forehead for asking, "Shut up, 'm tryna nap." Leona let his eyes close, taking in a breath of air free of the unsettling heat of sand. He no longer had to be concerned about losing control, but that didn't make his power any less terrifying. His gloves flexed with his fingers as he stretched, cushioning his head as he dozed off once more.
ii. dreams
Leona didn't dream. Sleeping was sleeping for him. It was simply an activity to pass by listless days. Still, it was impossible for him to escape every dream.
Sometimes, dreams would find him; a little too sweet and inviting. Promises of glory and recognition. Of crowns placed within treses of brown. Of emerald eyes casting its gaze upon something that was finally, truly his.
Leona hated dreams. When he would wake up, all he could do was try convincing himself that it wasn't real. That it was a truth that he wouldn't ever get what he really wanted.
And what did he really want? A second prince that was labeled a failure of a student; what could Leona Kingscholar want? No matter how he claimed he didn't care, the want still simmered in his veins— stifled yet present.
Leona wanted. He wanted so much that it almost hurt to breathe. But he was blessed with the intellect to know that he couldn't get those things he wanted.
Many called him stupid and lazy for being such a promising mage yet wasting away within NRC's botanical gardens. But they didn't know of the effort that Leona put into getting to where he was.
The days of his childhood he spent studying. Enduring the royal tutors who always compared him to his brother and berated his intellect. The nights he spent poring over books in the royal library on his own volition; trying in vain to find a way to take the throne as his.
(Sadly, Afterglow Savanna valued birthright, and try as he might, the only way to take the throne was to overthrow his brother or...kill him. The younger him had shivered at the thought of it. Even if he resented Falena to hell and back, he couldn't ever try to kill him.)
Even his simplest dream of winning a school Magift tournament was completely destroyed by the future King of the Valley of Thorns. Yet another person that reminded him of Falena. It was the nth bitter reminder that he could never truly be first in anything. And after being disappointed at every turn, maybe Leona Kingscholar didn't see a point in dreaming anymore.
So if someone were to ask him what his dream was, there was a chance Leona would answer with "I have no dreams."
"-ona. Leona," There was an arm shaking his shoulder. Leona let out a disgruntled groan, opening an eye to see who disturbed his nap.
Oh. It was just them.
"Herbivore," Leona acknowledged, voice still hoarse from sleep. "You're late."
The herbivore stayed quiet for a moment before they spoke, "Sorry about that, I took up part-time at Sam's during lunches." There was a slight pause before they continued, "But what happened? Were you having a nightmare?"
"What makes you say that?" Leona sat up with a yawn.
"You were frowning really hard in your sleep," There was a finger poking at his brow. "Even your forehead was all wrinkled."
"Mm," Leona dismissed the question. "It wasn't a nightmare." The herbivore didn't seem all that convinced by that answer, but they let it go.
Leona Kingscholar didn't dream. But maybe he had to remedy that statement. There was one dream that sprouted deep within him lately that he didn't completely hate, even if he knew it was impossible to fulfill. He hoped that these simple days at NRC would never end.
iii. visitor
Visitors and Leona Kingscholar shouldn't ever exist in the same sentence in Leona's humble opinion. So it was easy to imagine just how excited Leona was when Crowley barged into a Magift Club practice he had to announce he had a visitor. He left another third year in charge, swearing under his breath all the while.
And it was even easier to imagine how simply overjoyed he was to see Crowley holding up a little ball of fur that was guaranteed to give him a headache.
His nephew lit up at the sight of him, "Ojitan!"
He held the giggling cub away from him, scowling, "Why the hell is the brat here?"
"Now, now, Kingscholar-kun!" Crowley tutted, eyes curving into gleeful crescents. "His majesty, Falena asked me for a favor, and his highness will only be here for a day, nothing more, nothing less. I've also taken the liberty of excusing you from all classes today."
"Oh right!" Crowley's clawed fingers snapped. "I almost forgot, I enlisted the help of some very capable personnel to assist you."
He heard the huffing and puffing even before they appeared in front of him. There they were, out-of-breath like they ran all the way to the fields from the main building. Leona debated tossing Cheka into their arms and making a run for it.
"This– This is the... life-threatening emergency that only I could take care of?" Their voice sounded indignant, and Leona felt his ears twitch the slightest bit.
Maybe he could put up with it. Just for today. Besides, he got a free pass to skip class for the day and he could spend it all with the herbivore? Obviously, it was a win-win situation— if only Cheka wouldn't absolutely annoy him.
"Here," Leona dropped Cheka into their arms. "Crowley'll pay you a standard rate per hour so you'll get your money's worth. Follow me." He knew that they would follow if he mentioned money. For some reason, they had been working themselves so ragged that even a certain hyena was complimenting them about it.
They ended up in Leona's room, the kid blabbering some nonsense about how he was the "greatest uncle in all of existence" and how he "worked hard so that Papa would let him visit cuz it was almost Ojitan’s birthday."
Leona sprawled out on his bed, watching the kid cautiously looking around his room. They took a seat at his desk, glancing between him and the brat every once in a while, "So I just...play with him...?"
"Make sure he doesn't get hurt either," Leona gave a deep sigh, seeing his phone light up with a call from his dearest brother and ignoring it. "Oneesama would kill me if he got hurt."
"Right," They nodded, trailing off to follow Cheka's wanderings.
Leona spared another glance at Cheka's sunset-colored hair. The sight of it had been burned into his memory ever since they first met.
Leona blinked and he was back to being seventeen, still living in the confines of the palace. He had rejected the invitation in NRC, still hellbent on trying to find a way to get himself to the throne. (How utterly foolish, he now thought.)
The hallways were filled with the sound of celebration. Usually, Leona wouldn't take interest in what was going on in the palace. But this time, the fanfare came to find him. There was a knock on his door, Falena's attendant telling him that the King had called for him. He should've known that something big had happened when even he was smiling.
Yet it wasn't until Falena was ushering him towards a cot (newly installed) and seeing his Oneesama resting in bed (sweat beading at her brows) that Leona really understood what was going on.
It felt like a kick to the chest when he saw him for the first time. Bright yellow and orange hair, rounded nose, and a pudgy face. Brown rounded ears that were a little too big, dressed in royal colors. The spitting image of Falena with a sprinkling of Oneesama, condensed into a child.
"This is your new nephew," Falena had said, his voice sounding so far away. "The naming ceremony won't be until tomorrow, but I'll tell you his name beforehand: Cheka Kingscholar."
Cheka Kingscholar.
This tiny little cub whose hand was a tenth of his was now the new rightful heir of Afterglow Savanna. He thought that he had at least a year before something like this happened, but it seemed like his time had been cut short.
He couldn't help but run away; away from that room, away from the child, away from Falena, and far, far away from everyone who would be able to see the tears streaking down his face.
On the day of the naming ceremony, Leona slinked through the halls, avoiding the guards and servants who busily moved about. He didn't want to get caught and dragged out to face the people after all.
Suddenly, his ears picked up a sharp wailing noise. He turned a corner, following the noise to a room. The door clicked open easily and he recognized it immediately.
It was his nephew's new room. And sure enough, there Cheka Kingscholar was, complete with tears rolling down flushed cheeks and fluffy ears flattened against unruly hair.
"Why're you crying, brat?" Leona leaned over the crib, watching as the baby kept crying. "You've got everything I ever wanted to have... A loving family, the right to the throne, and everyone adores you." He reached a hand forward, gripping the edge of the crib.
He inhaled sharply. And gave the crib a gentle push, letting it rock the slightest bit. Slowly but surely, the cries came to a stop. When he looked down, Cheka's sparkling eyes were staring at him. The kid had the audacity to let out a giggle he saw him, grabbing at his hair successfully.
"What? Are you laughing at me?" He raised a brow, steadying the crib. He had to admit that the brat was a little bit cute even if he was tugging a little too hard at his hair.
Leona paused before voicing his realization, "Hey, now that you've taken my succession rights, you better become a better king than I could be." He found that he couldn't bring himself to hate this little cub, despite him bringing an end to all his dreams.
There was a lump in his throat as he kept speaking, "So don't bother with me, alright? I'll just be your scary uncle that never visits. So...just forget about me."
At that point, Leona realized how pointless it was to talk to a literal baby. He quickly left the room, watching the door for a few minutes until he saw Oneesama enter the room.
And within the same week, he walked into NRC's Hall of Mirrors for the first time; the Mirror frantically shouting that his soul perfectly matched Savanaclaw. There were times when Leona felt bitter. Where he would long for the throne yet again, but he knew it was a hopeless endeavor.
"Ojitan! I've got something to give you!" Leona blinked away his daze only to be met with a brightly smiling Cheka.
He turned up his nose, "Do it quick, screech box, I’ve got things to do."
"Like sleeping," the herbivore commented drily; though he mercifully chose to ignore it this time.
"Here!" Cheka pushed something right at his face. "Open it now!"
It was a card, written in messy handwriting and punctuated by random doodles and spontaneous bursts of glitter. Leona looked at the drawings in a daze. There was a figure that was clearly Cheka, along with his parents. And right next to Falena was a figure that looked suspiciously like him.
"Happy Early Birthday!" Cheka cheered, climbing right into his lap. He nuzzled his face right into his neck, little arms wrapping around Leona’s shoulders.
"Brat," Leona said in a warning tone, pushing at the cub's face. "My birthday isn't for a while, but...thanks." He could see how Cheka lit up at the praise, practically bouncing and planting a kiss on his cheek before running back to the herbivore.
"He said 'thank you'!" Cheka preened as if a 'thank you' from him was worth thousands of thaumarks. They said something in return but Leona wasn't listening. He was still staring at the hastily drawn picture, the paper creasing where he held it too tight.
Even if it felt like a burden, family would always be family to Leona. That was the reason that he couldn't raise a hand against Falena, even if he was an ever-present thorn at his side. And that was the reason why he couldn't send Cheka away, even if he disturbed his peace.
(And if that card ended up in the confines of one of his rarely-used drawers, safely preserved with a protective spell, then well...Leona wouldn't know anything about it.)
iv. captured
“Checkmate.”
“Urk,” The Savanaclaw student in front of him winced as he stared down at the chessboard. “T-that was fast…”
Leona let a smirk spread on his face as he watched the student reset the board. He loosened his bolo tie as he sat, resting his chin in an open hand.
“Wow, I’m starting to get goosebumps,” Ruggie’s voice couldn’t have been any farther away from admiration. “Is this your fortieth win today?”
“Forty-first,” Leona corrected, his eyes languidly combing the room for a certain face. “I’m taking a break now.”
As Ruggie continued to fuss with his ever-growing pile of presents, Leona went back to searching the crowd. Quite a lot of people had come for the celebration of his birthday.
But the one he was really looking for was…running around serving drinks.
Leona bit back a sigh. Of course they would be one of the people working in this crowd. Hell, even that busy-bodied octopunk wasn’t lifting a finger for his birthday. It was half-amusing and half-frustrating to see.
His ears twitched as he heard footsteps approaching him, and there was Jack. A plate piled high full of meat rested in the burly freshman’s hands as he shifted from left to right.
“Uh…” Jack coughed. “I thought Leona-senpai might’ve been hungry, so I got you something.”
He stared at Jack before, tilting his head to the table, “Put it down there, pup.”
“Please don’t call me that,” Jack said, though Leona could see the stable swish of his tail behind him. “I got a variety of meat for you, senpai. So happy birthday and I promise I’ll catch up to you in spelldrive soon.”
He watched as Jack left. If Jack was a chess piece, Leona was sure he would be a knight. Knights move in their rigid L-shape, yet it is a powerful piece. They can be the very force that topples the stability of a game. They’re able to break through defenses that other pieces might not be able to touch.
Leona rolled his eyes at the thought. Was it because it was his birthday that he was feeling sentimental? Anyway, all he knew was that Jack was undoubtedly a part of his pride; the small circle of people that Leona let befriend him.
“Eh~ Leona-san not finishing a plate of meat in two seconds?” Ruggie’s voice reached him faster than the lightness of his steps. “Next thing I know you’ll tell me you went vegetarian, shishishishi~”
“Shut it, Ruggie,” Leona stabbed a fork into a steak, his fangs cutting through the meat like butter. “And go get me a drink while you’re at it.”
“But, Leona-san, wouldn’t you rather get a drink delivered to you by your precious little herbivore?” Leona wasn’t sure what part of him betrayed his thoughts; his tail, ears, or even his expression but Ruggie burst into laughter. “This is so rich! Give me a sec, it’ll be a special service since it’s my boss’ birthday.”
“Oi, Ruggie—”
But before he could even utter another word, Ruggie had sped off into the crowd. Leona sighed for two reasons: one, because he almost felt sorry for all the people Ruggie had mugged in the crowd, and two, because Ruggie was a little too observant at times.
If Ruggie was a chess piece, he would be a pawn. That might be cruel to say, but pawns are a formidible piece. They might go unnoticed like infantry in a war. And yet only pawns are able to sneak through the board to bring another queen into the battle. An expert at rallying allies and an unseen giant in chess. That was the pawn.
Leona placed his fork on the table, before speaking, “You’re a hundred years early if you wanna sneak up on me like that.”
“How did you- Never mind,” They shuffled in front of him, carrying a tray of drinks. “What would you like to drink?”
“Hmm?” Leona felt his tail rising into the air, though he didn’t stop it. “Aren’t you supposed to be more polite to the birthday boy?”
Their brows furrowed, “You didn’t even like being called the birthday boy!”
“And what? I can’t change my mind on that?” Leona felt a slow smirk grow on his face the more they looked like they were about to deck him with the drink tray.
“Alright.” They took a breath. “Happiest of days of birth, Leona Kingscholar! If you would be so inclined to state your preference of beverage, I shall happily acquire it for you.”
Leona’s smirk twisted into a frown, “Never do that ever again.”
There was a small smile toying at their lips before they put down a glass, “Fine. Here, I heard this drink was your favorite.”
“You’re gonna leave just like that?” Emerald green eyes softened just a little upon meeting their gaze. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get your favorite lion a gift, herbivore.”
They sighed in what Leona thought was exasperation, “Of course I did. It’s sitting in your room.”
“Then let’s go.”
“Huh?” Leona had to admit, seeing their eyes blinking at him in confusion like that was pretty damn cute.
“C'mon herbivore, let’s ditch the party for a bit,” Leona stood up, casting a spell on both of them while he waved a hand. This way people wouldn’t be able to see him leave.
“Wait a sec, what about the cake?” They blurted, hand secured in Leona’s own. And for once, Leona was glad he wasn’t wearing his gloves, relishing in the warm press of his palm against theirs.
“I don’t like sweets,” Leona reminded, leading them through the hallways of the Savanaclaw dormitories.
“I know, but— why am I coming with you anyway? You could open it by yourself, can’t you?” But at that point, Leona had already made up his mind.
“Indulge in me for a little, herbivore,” Leona’s expression filled with mirth. “Tonight’s supposed to be a celebration for me, right?”
“You— I seriously think that you’re overdoing it on the birthday boy thing,” They grumbled as the pair finally made it into the privacy of Leona’s room. The sounds of the party gently trickled in through Leona’s open windows, and he spotted their gift easily.
It was a small box, a simple piece of twine with a tag completing the present. He started to shake it, only to be interrupted by their gasp, “Wait! It’ll break if you handle it carelessly!”
Leona raised a brow, “’S it really that fragile? Fine, I’ll open it carefully, alright?” They nodded, looking infinitely more nervous now, though Leona couldn’t fathom why.
Inside the box was a smaller metal box. He turned it around in his hands, “What am I supposed to do with this?” They hesitated, before pressing one of the buttons on the side.
An image flickered to life on a holographic screen. He poked a finger through it, watching the display distort around his fingers. The pictures changed every few seconds, each one more surprising than the last.
“It’s…a photo album,” They handed the box back to him. “There’s a lot of pictures in there, I dug some up from the school newspaper and magicam account. There are also pictures I got from his majesty, Falena too. I had the device commissioned by Ignihyde, which is why it’s so…futuristic looking.”
“It must’ve cost a lotta money,” Leona said quietly, unable to take his eyes off the pictures. There were pictures of him as a child sprinkled amongst his memories in NRC. There were even pictures that were no doubt their work; evident from the way Leona recognized all his favorite napping spots in the background.
“That’s right,” They nudged at his elbow. “You should appreciate my hard work.” And it hit Leona right then and there that the reason they had been working so hard— the very reason they needed all that money in the first place— was because of this very gift in his hands. There was a lump in his throat as more and more pictures passed; the memories flashing in his mind both bitter and sweet.
“I do,” He placed the box down, turning to face them. "Thank you.”
The thanks that left Leona’s lips were more sincere than he was expecting. But Leona wasn’t surprised anymore considering these complicated feelings that swirled around his heart. He already tried suppressing them; acting unfairly mean, and arrogant towards them, even going as far as ignoring them for a while. But to Leona, it felt even worse to be without them than it was to have them around, even if they didn’t know of his feelings. So he swallowed his self-deprecation and anxiety in order to stay with them. He had already made up his mind to let those feelings stay, even if he wasn’t equipped with the knowledge to adequately express them.
Ah, but if they were a chess piece, would they be the queen to his king? The king was quite lazy. The most important piece, and yet he doesn’t move around all that much. He was always being protected by other pieces, whilst the queen was free to move around as she wished. The queen was fitting for them; in the way they ran head-first into battles they might not even win. Though, there was something bothering him with this thought.
Another possibility entered his mind not soon after: what if they were his king?
If they were chess pieces in Leona’s imaginary game, it would make the utmost sense if they were the king. The king was no doubt the center of the game. A piece to be protected at all costs, lest the game is lost. Just like how they were always in the center of everything and everyone here at NRC. And if they were the king, then he would willingly become their queen. Because for them, there wasn’t anything Leona wouldn’t give.
“The Leona Kingscholar thanking little old me?” Leona let his tail swat at their face. “It was a joke, really! I’m just glad that you liked it. I wasn’t sure if you’d like this type of gift.”
“This type of gift being…?”
“A sentimental gift,” A smile tugged at their lips. “I guess there are even days where the great Leona Kingscholar feels sentimental.”
And instead of refuting it, Leona simply agreed, “I guess there are.”
Matters of the heart seemed to elude him, but for them, Leona was willing to be a fool in love. They had somehow captured him, disarming all of Leona’s carefully constructed defenses and taking his heart as their own. 
Even now, as they blinked at him, completely unaware of his internal dilemma, Leona couldn’t help but bump his head against theirs in fondness. The little squawk they let out at the sudden motion only served to make him smile, though he quickly hid it with a turn of his head.
“Watch the rest of it with me,” The offer was whispered; as if Leona was too afraid to break the silence that had surrounded them. They nodded, and Leona was all too happy to shuffle towards the pillows on his bed. After getting in a more, mm, comfortable position— which entailed using the herbivore as a pillow— he was content to watch the pictures change. He offered up a couple of comments on a few pictures, earning a few hums in reply. 
Leona didn’t get to cut the cake with his dorm mates that year; much to the disappointment of many. To him, it was the first birthday that he truly felt like he belonged. And those memories were more precious and infinitely sweeter than the taste that any expensive cake could bring him.
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thank you for reading ! i hope you enjoyed and once again, happy birthday to leona kingscholar <333 if you'd like to read more, check out my masterlist >:DDD
795 notes · View notes
sinfullyrosey · 6 days
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Y/N, looking at Azul’s baby picture: Oh wow, you were so shaped. So squishy and soft. Full of so much chub to love.
Azul: What are you talking about?? I was a fat, ugly octopus!
Y/N: Fat? Yes. Ugly? No. You were a proper butterball, of whom I would have held and kneaded like dough. Bake you right into an adorable cutiepie.~
Azul: I don’t know what is wrong with your brain and eyes, but I most certainly was not adorable as a kid! Now give me that- *tries to swipe back the picture*
Y/N, dodging him: Nope. You were lovable and round and oh-so baby.~
Azul: I was unlovable! Not like I am now!
Y/N: Oh shut up, that’s just the insecurities and unresolved childhood trauma talking!
Azul: My younger self would ink himself if he saw me now!
Y/N: You peaked in your childhood and will never reach that same level of endearment until you reclaim the chub you so foolishly threw away.
Azul: . . .
Y/N: Your childhood longing is calling, Azul. Answer it.
[Jade and Floyd watching this all go down in the doorway]
Floyd, shoveling popcorn into his mouth: Yeah, Azul, answer it!
Jade: Yes, heed their words, Azul, so that we can partake in your chub too.~
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nrc when you dodge their kisses
SUMMARY: The NRC boys try to kiss you, and you dodge. How dare you!
CHARACTERS: All NRC Students
WARNINGS: None!!
COMMENTS: You already know what I'm gonna say. Azul you're gorgeous and I want actually I NEED you to hmu!! I would treat you so right!! Just one kiss please!! You can tell I'm Azul biased and I am not sorry!!
~~~~~
Heartslabyul
Riddle Rosehearts immediately turns as red as his hair. He apologizes profusely for assuming you’d be up for a cheek kiss and you have to resist the urge to hug him. You tell him to calm down, that it was a joke. His relief is evident, but you can tell there’s something else on his mind as he stares at you, so you offer him your cheek again.
Trey Clover apologizes immediately, his cheeks flushed pink. This is one of the only times you’ll ever see him rattled, slightly embarrassed that you’d dodged his display of affection. He shakes it off pretty easily though, much to your chagrin. Smooch him.
Cater Diamond knows what you’re playing at. He holds your face still and gives you two big smooches on your cheeks, telling you he loves you before rushing off to class. He’s going to dodge you the next time you try to kiss him as payback.
Deuce Spade looks heartbroken. He apologizes and vows to ask before doing anything like that next time. He asks if he’s made you uncomfortable or if anything is wrong, and when you tell him it’s a joke he gets so relieved. Don’t scare him like that again!
Ace Trappola whines incessantly. Anyone would be lucky to kiss him and you just dodged him! Like he was chopped liver! Is that what he is to you? Huh!? It’s hilarious because he will not SHUT UP until you give him Two (2) kisses to make up for the one he missed and the time he spent lamenting over it.
Savanaclaw
Leona Kingscholar narrows his eyes and stares at you. You pretend you don’t notice, continuing to walk inside your classroom that he’d so kindly walked you to. Except he doesn’t leave. “Herbivore.” Leona calls, and even though he didn’t touch you, you freeze. “You forgot something.”
Jack Howl assumes you’re not in the mood and shrugs it off. Well, that’s what it would seem like if you weren’t an expert in Jack Howl Communications. His ears are lowered and his tail isn’t wagging as much anymore, and you know it’s because he’s worried. The next time you see him, you cup his face and give him a kiss on the cheek, just to watch him perk up again.
Ruggie Bucchi’s ears flatten almost immediately. He immediately assumes he’s done something wrong and starts bringing you a bunch of snacks to make up for it. He’s laughing on the outside but dying on the inside. He will literally only touch you again when you initiate or until you tell him it’s a joke.
Octavinelle
Azul Ashengrotto wants to run away, and he almost does. The world crashes around him and his mind immediately runs to his octopot and all the mockery he faced and how you are the last person he wants to see him that way. You immediately notice that the small joke hurt his feelings in a way that you never wanted to hurt him, and grab his face to kiss him gently. “I’m sorry honey. You were going to miss.” you murmur as you pull away, rubbing circles on his cheek with your thumb, “Had to make sure you didn’t.”
Jade Leech pretends to be wounded. He refuses to accept any affection from you for the next five hours because you broke his heart so bad. Maybe next time you’ll think before you deny the eel the attention he rightfully deserves!! If you try anything, he’ll dodge it with a “oh, I’m sorry. I’m busy. Come back later.” JADE STOP.
Floyd Leech is another whiner. You dodge his kisses, he’ll pout and whine for hours. No amount of kisses you give him to make up for it will be enough. Ten, fifteen, twenty kisses, on his forehead, cheeks, or lips…won’t be enough. He will hold this over your head.
Scarabia
Kalim Al-Asim blue screens and tries to figure out what he did wrong. He apologizes quickly and asks if you want him to keep his distance from you today. He doesn’t phrase it in a dramatic way like some of the students on this list. Instead, his words are genuine and warm, with only your comfort in mind. He’s very observant so he’ll be able to tell if you really do want your space!
Jamil Viper rolls his eyes and goes about his day. He immediately assumes that you’re playing a prank on him, and he fully intends to do what you did to him but doubled. You lean in for a kiss the next day, he dodges it. You try to hold his hand, he moves it at the last second. Just apologize, he’s so petty.
Pomfiore
Vil Schoenheit narrows his eyes and stares at you. He doesn’t like playing your silly little games and will immediately ask if that's what you’re doing. No matter your response, he rolls his eyes and lets it go. If you want any of his affection, you’re going to have to initiate next time.
Rook Hunt doesn’t realize you’ve dodged until his lips don’t land on yours. He’s already closed his eyes when he stumbles a bit, his eyes flying open in surprise. You stand behind him with a mischievous little smile, and he immediately knows what you’re doing. He cries out some monologue about your cruelty before giving you a forehead kiss.
Epel Felmier narrows his eyes and refuses to give you kisses after that. His ego is hurt and you’re responsible! You’re going to need to promise to never do it again and give him a kiss to make up for it. How dare you make him out to be a fool!
Ignihyde
Idia Shroud wants to crawl into a hole and die. He finally gained the courage to kiss you goodbye for the second time this week, and you dodged him! That was so cringe he thinks he’s going to explode. He only feels a little bit better when you grab his face and kiss him twice - one on each cheek.
Diasomnia
Malleus Draconia is frozen, his eyes wide with surprise. You’ve always been receptive to his advances, and now that you’re not he doesn’t know what to do. Recovering quickly, he smirks and looks you dead in the eye. “I suppose you’re avoiding my affection today? Fine. I shall fulfill your wishes, Child of Man.”
Sebek Zigvolt jumps away, his face flaming red. He immediately starts yelling about how he wasn’t trying to give you a forehead kiss, he was just checking over your shoulder to make sure nobody was about to attack you! Cup his cheek and kiss his forehead - watch him get even redder.
Silver blinks slowly before nodding, telling you he understands and he hopes you have a good lesson. Assuming you want your distance, Silver doesn’t initiate any affection for the rest of the day unless you give him explicit permission.
Lilia Vanrouge follows your dodge and lands a kiss on you anyway. He laughs loudly at your surprise, booping you on the nose before practically bouncing off to his next class. If you want to give him a kiss, he’s going to dodge and stick his tongue out at you now.
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mochinomnoms · 3 months
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Do you think humans in twisted wonderland have periods? What if they don't...
What if AFAB!Yuu is the only one in twisted wonderland to have periods and it freaks everyone out
Evolutionarily speaking it would make sense for the humans in twisted wonderland to reabsorb the unused egg for extra fuel for magic
[cw] - discussion of periods/afab!Yuu but still written as gn [wc} - 1,792 Added the rest under readmore as it got a bit long. I think there's a fic somewhere on here with this idea, but I can't remember the blog or name, I'll edit and link it later if I find it. I can see the point of the egg being reabsorbed, though personally I think TWST humans are biologically the same as Earth humans, minus the ones with magic maybe having a bit stronger/heighten senses and strengths. After all, there are plenty of humans who aren't magic, I think it's mentioned some point in their book 2 or book 5 that a majority of the population is either magicless or aren't privy to the privilege of formal magical education.
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Even if a majority of the human population is magic, there's still a good chunk of them that don't and if that's the case then they at least would have periods.
However, that's explicitly the human population, and in reality it makes absolutely no sense for beastmen or merfolk to have periods. Especially when they have things like heat/ruts or mating cycles. Fae I think would actually make the most sense for the headcanon you're mentioning! They are completely and utterly magic, made from the magic of the earth, animals, and flora given sentience and forms. They are utterly magic, through, and through, so it would make sense for those with uteri to recycle the egg back into them for magical fuel.
And say we're going with the assumption that there are no other afab students in the school, or there are, but they're only beastmen, merfolk, and/or fae, then an afab!Yuu comes as quite a shock.
The beastmen are the first to notice something off with them, as they have the most acute sense of smell. This is followed by a very close second with the merfolk (particularly the predacious ones) and an even closer third by the fae. All the boys from those dorms, minus Lilia who's lived long enough to know what a period is, clock in on their friend who reeks of blood and flesh (because you're also shedding pieces of your uterine lining).
Lord help you, as you're in a crowded area, the cafeteria, with not only them but the rest of their classmates that also smell your blood, because their immediate thought is that you're fucking dying.
Sebek is surprisingly the first to launch himself at you, shouting at the top of his lungs, “WHERE IS YOUR INJURY HUMAN?! YOU ARE SEVERELY INJURED YOU SHOULD BE IN THE INFIRMARY—” Before he is yanked off by a wide-eyed Jack, who's looking more and more like the dead as he leans down to sniff at you.
The blood from his face drains (ha) as he turns to look at Leona and Ruggie, as well as a small group of other beastmen—friend's you've made during the tournament—and nods. This causes them to all look horrified and gaze at you like a wounded puppy. Minus Leona, who just looks amused.
“It's coming from them.”
Still confused, you stare at the Heartslabyul group—who'd been eating breakfast with you—in bewilderment. They also look at you in confusion, except for Riddle, the latter of which pinches the bridge of his noses and takes a deep sigh.
“I think you're all being a bit dramatic, they're just on their—”
“DRAMATIC? I DON'T THINK YOU'RE BEING DRAMATIC ENOUGH!”
Floyd grabs you from behind, spinning you and shoving his face so close to yours that you noses are smushed together.
“Shrimpy… you gotta tell me who did it, cause I could tell from aaaaall the way in the hallway that ya hurt. Com'on! Tell Floydie, I promise I won't be mad.”
Jade placed a hand on his brother's shoulder as he leans down to chastise Floyd.
“Not now Floyd, the poor thing is hurt, we should take them to the infirmary. Then we can hunt down the dreadful soul that hurt our friend and have them trade their spot.”
You felt yourself being lifted from the ground, yelping and latching your arms around Floyd's neck as he cradles you in his arms. Effectively yanking you from Jack's grip, who immediately growls.
“Floyd! Be careful!”
“Ehhh? Yeah that sounds like a great idea! Let's go now, I'm itching for a good fight, ayhehehe!”
Leona and Riddle shared a look, the former sighed to try and explain.
“Look you idiots, they're not injured, they're—”
“What are you waiting for?” Ruggie interrupted him, annoyed by Leona's unconcerned attitude, instead gesturing to Floyd. “Let's go before they bleed out even more!”
The small group clamored out of the cafeteria, a few more concerned students following after them as they started to hear bits and pieces of the conversation. Leaving Leona and the others in the dust. Deuce piped up.
“… Uh, do they not know—”
“No, most beastmen aren't familiar with periods.”
“I'm guessing merfolk and fae don't either, based on the twins and Sebek.” Riddle sighed, feeling sorry for you.
Leona's ears perked as he heard the shrill shriek of a certain octopus in the distance. Riddle and the others also seemed to hear it as they winced.
“Probably not…”
“…”
“… should we?”
“Yeah, we probably should, before my boys wreck the school. Let's get Crewel.”
It took a whole hour of you reassuring the small crowd that had formed around your bed in the infirmary before anyone calmed down. Floyd and Jade were being constantly pulled back into the infirmary by the ear by the nurse, who kept telling the two to stop trying to go beat up the imaginary person that, quote unquote, “hurt you”.
“What do you mean Shrimpy isn't hurt? I can smell the blood from all the way down the hall!”
“Yes, it's quite a potent scent, and distinct to our dear Prefect.” Jade held his hand to his chest as he sniffled. “We've smelled it before when they've gotten hurt, but this is a whole different level.”
“Yeah! Almost all of Savanaclaw could smell it” Ruggie nodded in agreement as Jack followed.
“They must be really hurt if we all could smell it from that far away! You need to help them nurse!”
Their voice's grew again in volume, Sebek in particular, as he vowed to also hunt down the “ruffian who would dare harm a fellow student on the campus Master Malleus attended!”
The nurse, growing more and more annoyed trying to corral the group (she wondered how ethical it would be to use a silencing spell and another to stick them to the ceiling), sighed in relief as the echo of Crewel's whip commanded immediate silence.
“Oh, thank the Sundrop, Professor Crewel, please control them. I am up to here with their foolishness—”
“Foolish? The Prefect might be dying!” Azul cried out, surprisingly attached to your side. She'd tried to yank him off of you earlier, but was met with a shocking amount of strength as his grip on the metal bed frame caused an Azul-sized hand indent to form. His strength, easy to forget in his slender frame. Now, he was trying his best to coax the name of the student responsible with promises of free drinks and discounted food.
“No I'm not!” You cried out in exasperation. “I've been trying to tell you, but y'all won't listen!”
As you tried to get up from the bed, trapped in a blanket cocoon made by Azul, the boys started up again. Half urging you to stay in bed and rest, while the other half argued with the nurse, and now Crewel, about healing you up.
A near ear-shattering rumble of thunder caused another silence to fall over everyone. This time, though, the group shrunk into themselves as Malleus, standing proud and tall, entered the room. Sebek perked up, rushing over to meet him.
“Young Master! I've ensured that the human was taken to the infirmary, but so far they've refused any healing—”
“Thank you, Sebek. I will speak to them myself.”
Malleus, his school jacket flourishing behind him (one of the students murmured that he felt like a background character in a romance movie), flew to your side. Where you had been squirming your upper body out of the blanket cocoon, smacking at Azul's hands as he kept attempting to swaddle you back in.
Now freed waist up, you turned to face Malleus, who had elegantly kneeled down by your bedside (you could hear Sebek muffled a shriek) and held your hand like a delicate piece of china.
“Child of Man, my friend, what happened? Are you alright? Did someone hurt you?” Malleus cooed at you, green eyes peering into yours, full of concern.
So it was a surprise to everyone in the room when you groaned, which morphed into a soft scream.
“Uh… Child of Man?”
“I'm fiiiiiine!” You sighed, slumping back into the bed. “I'm just on my period, you guys.”
The room remained quiet, a bit too quiet as you lifted your head back up to look at the room of confused looking men. Crewel had a hip cocked as he looked unimpressed over the crowd. The nurse was rubbing her temples. You heard Azul clear his throat, drawing his attention as he asked,
"What's a period?"
Finally, the crowd had settled, all of them huddled around your bed as you tried your best to explain what a menstral cycle was.
"So you like, bleed every month? Randomly?"
"Amount 28 days, so once a month yeah. And now it's not random, it's part of the reproductive cycle. It's my body preps for a new egg—"
"But, I though humans didn't lay eggs?" Floyd asked, leaning against Azul's right shoulder.
"We don't, it's different the egg turns into a baby itself so there's no egg to lay—"
Ruggie spoke up, "We get that, but I don't get why the egg makes you bleed? It can't do that can it?"
"No, no, no. It's not the egg itself, it's my body. In order for the egg to get fertilize it needs a good environment to grow, so the uterus grows a fresh lining once a month for the egg to latch on to, so—"
You sighed as once of the other fae students interrupted.
"Fresh lining? Like, the skin? Of the uterus?"
You nodded, trying to keep your patience as you attempted to explain to your friends that, no, you were in fact not bleeding to death.
"Yes, that's the blood, the skin is shedding to make a fresh one for the next egg."
You don't think it's working, as that last sentence caused a wave of mortifcation amongst the crowd.
"That... sounds like it hurts." Malleus, still holding your hand, softly asked. "You're not hurting though, correct?"
Pursing your lips, you looked up at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact. Wow had that cobweb always been in that corner?
"Yuu."
Malleus's voice, calling out your name for once, was full of questioning.
"Yeah Horns?"
"it doesn't hurt, correct?"
You started whistling a little tune, studying the dirt under your nails.
"Dear Prefect," Jade this time. "Answer the question?"
The group leaned in closer as you grumbled under your breath.
"Speak up Shrimpy."
".........not always."
"Come on, stop being shy, you act like a puppy most of the time" Ruggie was getting annoyed.
".....cramps..not move...not always."
"It's okay Yuu, you can say it." Azul cooed.
"...Sometimes the cramps makes it hurt too much to move, but not always."
You braced yourself as the crowd once again riled up.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT HURTS TOO MUCH TO MOVE?"
The nurse off to the side still, leaned over to tell Crewel, "I told you we needed an interspecies health class."
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hehe this was fun, comments appreciated. I may be inclined to write more since writing different between species like this is fun
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