Blot!reader Pt. 8
Blot!reader pt. 8
Part 8 to this
This is a darker story. I suggest you refrain from reading it if you're in a fragile mental state or unable to handle darker themes.
The days blurred together, spinning like a carousel that had lost its rhythm—too fast, too bright, too sweet in all the wrong ways. It was beautiful, almost nostalgically so, but nauseating. As if time had decided to move forward with a cruel sort of cheer, indifferent to the heaviness you carried with each step.
After that night, no one asked questions.
Perhaps they didn't know how. Perhaps they feared the answers. Or maybe, deep down, they understood that no explanation offered could make any of it easier to bear. No truth would be gentle enough to soothe the ache or clean enough to satisfy curiosity.
The Blot, once a constant presence—whispering in corners of your mind, teasing you, luring and lamenting in equal measure—had gone quiet. It had curled into some hidden recess of your mind and fallen silent. No more murmurs. No more laughter. Not even sorrow.
Just stillness.
And in that silence, the days continued. Time didn't heal so much as it dulled. The pain didn't vanish, but its edges softened, becoming something you could carry without crumbling.
Word of your circumstances had reached others too. Rook, ever the optimist, had suggested involving more minds might help—perhaps a collective pursuit would bring clarity, or even a solution. But all it did was wrap you in an uncomfortable awareness. You weren't a mystery to solve. You were a burden to be managed.
A melancholy settled over campus like mist, creeping into everything and everyone. Even the most powerful students, the most composed individuals, wore subtle changes in their expressions. It was like ripples in still water—small, but undeniable. You noticed them. And worse, you knew you had caused them.
Ruggie caught your eye in passing once. His ears drooped, not out of fear this time, but something gentler. Understanding, maybe. He shifted his weight like he might walk toward you—might say something—but in the end, he turned away. He didn't blame you. He knew what happened was terrifying. But he also knew you were terrified too. Still, things weren't the same, and that subtle drift between you stung sharper than outright blame ever could.
Then there was Riddle.
He said nothing. But you caught him watching you in the reflection of your teacup—eyes focused not on your face, but on the quiet tension in your hands, the way you rubbed the edge of the porcelain like it might fray under your touch. Your tea had gone cold long ago, but you remained seated, fingers tracing delicate swirls as if hoping to anchor yourself in something familiar.
In a quiet, grand gesture of hope—or maybe desperation—Heartslabyul's signature rose guardian had been unearthed. The flowers replanted, replaced with blooms of your choosing. Riddle hadn't mentioned it aloud. He didn't need to. Somewhere beneath his rules and routines, he hoped you'd still be around when the first buds opened. As if time itself could become a clock, counting down not to an end—but to a beginning.
One late night, as you lay motionless in bed, half-present and barely breathing through the static of your own thoughts, a soft ping from your phone flickered through the silence. The shadows in your room flickered, signaling that the Blot had also been startled by the sound. Idia had sent you a message—long, rambling, awkward, and painfully sincere. He apologized for the last tense interaction, for the things he'd said and the things he hadn't. Attached were coordinates.
Curiosity, or maybe something gentler than that, stirred in your chest as you followed them in-game.
What waited for you was a massive, underground bunker built block by block with obsessive care—stocked with everything you liked and needed, every silly item you'd once casually mentioned, every rare collectible he knew you adored, and even every animal—tamable and untamable—neatly confined in entity-friendly spaces as well. It was a digital sanctuary, crafted with shaking hands and a quiet breaking heart. He didn't say he missed you. He didn't have to. The base was the confession.
Idia: I just want you to keep going. Even if it's not for me.
His last message read, surprisingly written with perfect grammar.
Meanwhile, outside your actual window, Malleus continued his nightly rituals. The gentle tap of wind or the faint glimmer of magic was all that marked his passing. The gifts he left behind were unique and otherworldly—small fae tokens: a branch from his favorite tree, a stone somehow carved into an intricate small gargoyle, a piece of glass shaped like a tear that never fell. Each one left in hope, in helplessness, in longing. He was trying to help. Trying to understand. But even the great faerie prince could not comprehend the wound inside you, only mourn that he couldn't soothe it.
Silver never said much. His silences were eloquent and graceful. He continued his quiet patrols past Ramshackle, watching from a respectful distance. He'd always been a guardian of dreams and peace—but he couldn't guard you from yourself. Or the Blot. So instead, he left small flowers woven into crowns and rings on your doorstep when he could, humble blooms from his walks. But they were always wilted by morning. As if even nature understood the fragility of his offering.
You never mentioned the state you often found them in, not wanting to see the boy wilt himself.
The Yuus were gentler now, but more intense in their presence. Always hovering, always nearby. They didn't speak of the truth—but it haunted the spaces between your conversations. The weight of your confession clung to them like a second skin. They smiled at you as if afraid the wrong word might shatter the air around you.
You hated the way they all looked at you—as if you were glass set on the edge of a high shelf. As if breathing too hard might tip you over.
But the truth?
Nothing had changed.
Not really.
Somewhere deep down, you had already made your choice—long before any of them noticed the fracture. It sat inside you like a quiet star: constant, cold, inevitable. You didn't know when the moment would come, only that you'd know it when it did.
And for all their efforts—sweet, sincere, achingly kind—you couldn't be saved in the way they hoped. But overtime it became painfully clear how difficult that goal truly was.
And it wasn't their fault.
It only made the guilt worse.
Like a debt you wished they'd stop trying to repay.
Because the person they were fighting to save—the one who had held them all together—was slipping quietly out of reach. And no one, not even you, knew if they could come back.
The news spread like fire on dry grass—swift, bright, and impossible to ignore.
A way home had been found.
Reactions rippled across campus in a tangled mess of emotions: elation, sorrow, disbelief, anxiety, longing. Some students whispered with hope in their voices; others stared blankly at the walls, caught in a strange limbo of what-ifs and memories. And through it all, one truth remained: you had changed them.
The way people looked at you—the way they felt about you—had shifted. No longer were you just a strange newcomer from another world. Somewhere along the line, you'd become theirs. A friend, a rival, a confidant, a source of chaos and comfort.
And now you were all leaving.
Headmage Crowley called a formal meeting, though even he lacked his usual flair. He stood a little straighter than usual, voice more solemn than usual. The mirror home was open, stable. The stars had aligned in a rare cosmic arrangement. The gate thrummed with raw energy—ready to bring you back where it all began.
Your world. Or... was it?
Because deep inside you, a whisper lingered. Faint. Familiar. The Blot's story. The idea that this—this—was your real world. That your soul had bloomed here once before. Perhaps that's why the ocean reached for you on calm days, why the wind danced with you when you in lonely moments, why the snow and sun kissed you with reverence instead of indifference.
The world here didn't just accept you. It welcomed you. Embraced you. And so did the people within it.
And as the final day drew nearer, fleeting moments played in your mind like petals caught in a breeze:
Deuce had leaned over during class, whispering urgently as if trying to catch time by the tail. His teal eyes shimmered with quiet urgency, like deep ponds stirred with emotion. "You should text me if you go," he said, lips tugged into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "All of us. Even if it's like... cross-dimensional." It wasn't meant to sway your choice, just a promise: you are loved here.
Leona dropped his thoughts at lunch like they didn't weigh as much as they clearly did. He sat across from you, lazily pushing a tray your way. "Ordered too much." he muttered—though you both knew he didn't. As you ate, his gaze lingered, not on your face, but on the simple fact that you were still here. Still present. Still real. "You're stronger than you think. Even without all that Blot junk." The lion gave a soft scoff, one ear flicking. "You'd fit in at the Sunset Savanna. People respect lions there. And you have the strength of a Lion." You knew what he meant: There was a place waiting for you.
And Kalim? He couldn't sit still. Ever since the news broke, he'd been rushing around like a whirlwind of joy and dread, putting together elaborate gift boxes for each of you. Trinkets, silks, spices, ornate keepsakes—things that would make jaws drop back in your world. He said it was so you'd never forget him. And oddly enough, Jamil never once protested. He simply helped. Quietly. Carefully. Like he, too, wanted to give you something that could never be repaid.
The hour before your departure arrived too quickly, yet dragged with unbearable weight.
Within the quiet hush of the Mirror Chamber, everything was illuminated by an eerie softness—like the world itself knew this was a moment it should handle delicately. The usual chatter had fallen to a hush. The air was heavy with unsaid things.
Trey approaches first, carrying bags loaded with care. You could tell he'd packed them himself. Neatly arranged inside were tarts—your favorites—alongside sweets he'd made over the years. Some were crumbling a little from being hastily prepared. Others were packed carefully in tins or paper to preserve their shape. Between them, he'd slipped in small, handwritten notes. Jokes. Memories. Reminders. Pieces of a life he can't follow.
"For the road," he said, voice rough and cracked, like he hadn't spoken all morning. Not quite the easygoing Trey you remembered. As Yuuken reached in to quietly take one of the signature sweets, there was a shared understanding—this was the last taste of Heartslabyul you would have. The last sweetness made for you.
The Mirror Chamber had filled with those closest to you, all huddled in a makeshift half-circle, as though any moment now they'd try to block the mirror with their bodies. A final attempt to keep you here.
Confessions clung to the walls like mold. Unspoken apologies floated like dust in the morning light. It felt like being at the edge of something vast—something you couldn't see beyond, but could feel.
Vil approached you next. Always composed, always immaculate, his heels clicked quietly against the floorboards as he came to fix your collar. His fingers moved with precision, but his touch lingered just a second longer than it needed to.
"You've always made an impression," he said, eyes narrowing though the edges of his expression faltered, "Now make an even better one when you go back. Hold your head high. Don't cry in front of that portal." His voice lowered, the gentleness slipping out against his will. "You deserve to leave with dignity. After everything, you deserve it."
You stood surrounded by uncharacteristic warmth, by familiarity, by those you'd once hated, distrusted, or even feared—only to later realize their cruelty wasn't personal. They'd simply been broken in their own ways, the reality around all of you unknowingly manipulated by something beyond comprehension. And still, you had come to matter to them.
The mirror at the center of the room pulsed gently, casting an otherworldly green glow that flickered across their faces—across your face. The kind of glow that seemed to hum with power, with promise.
Beyond that glass: a world you had once called home. You could almost hear it—distant sounds, the hush of a subway station, the hum of the bus, rain against a window, a fan left on all year. You could smell it, too—concrete warmed by the sun, your favorite food spot down the street, old paper and familiar detergent.
It called to you like a siren, and inside, something shifted.
The Blot was silent now. Dormant. Patient. Maybe it hoped to return with you. Maybe it simply waited to see what you'd choose.
Because that's what this moment truly was: a choice.
You, standing between two lives. Two worlds. Two versions of yourself. Whole, but scattered. Loved, but always longing.
The mirror ripples.
And somewhere behind you, someone whispered—maybe it was Azul, perhaps Jamil—"Are you really going to leave?"
With Lilia's assistance, Grim carefully raised the old ghost camera to capture you all in a final, treasured moment. For once, the lens faces the Ramshackle Prefects and not their subjects; A final keepsake for those you're leaving behind.
You swallow down a lump in your throat as you watch the Yuus all leave one-by-one, your feet now rooted to the ground.
Your decision, chosen long ago, came into play now.
Break the contract.
Remain with the Blot.
Reach for him.
Go home.
Thank you all so much for following me on this journey through my second posted story since I was a kid.
I hope I wrote this well and many doubts still linger about it. Some parts I'm proud of, others I'm a little hesitant to admire.
Reading your comments and asks always made my day better and writing this gave me something to do. I apologize if the endings seemed shitty. The fanfic writer curse really got me while I was trying to write the endings and they're written pretty far apart from everything.
I hope I can keep improving on on writing, maybe I'll post another long fic like this but I'll likely do requests for smaller things if anyone would like.
All these endings took me a whole month. This part began on April 17th and it's now May 17th. I hope the long wait has been worth this for you all.
Again, thank you.
I've been thinking about writing my own original story if anybody would be interested. Though everything is rough in drafts.
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More Posts from Kiransfanficstronghold and Others
Panic Attack Protocol
𝖆/𝖓: THIS IS PLATONICCCCC!! and also adore the friendship grim and the player has ㅠㅠ they're so sweet, OMG giving me cavities~
𝖙𝖜: panic attack, tickling
𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: first years x reader
𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘: 2360
𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @luxaryllis @thegoldencontracts @waterthatsmoe @oya-oya-okay @writingattemptsxx
It started with nothing.
Just another lunch period. Another tray of food, another corner table in the cafeteria. Grim sat across from you, happily scarfing down a plate of grilled tuna curry, humming off-key. The room was loud—like always—but not more than usual.
And then… it wasn’t usual anymore.
Someone’s laughter behind you spiked too sharp. A fork dropped. The clatter crashed through your ears like glass. You flinched.
“Hey,” Grim said, looking up. “You okay?”
You opened your mouth, but no sound came out.
Your chest had tightened suddenly. The air felt heavy—wrong. Your vision narrowed. The lights above buzzed louder than they ever had before. Every scrape of metal, every burst of laughter—it was like you could hear everything, all at once, and none of it made sense.
“Henchman?” Grim tried again. “You’re looking weird. Like, really weird.”
Your hand twitched. The fork slipped. The clink echoed like thunder. Your heart jumped.
You couldn’t breathe.
You couldn’t breathe.
You stood up fast. Too fast. The cafeteria spun. The noise surged around you like waves crashing in. Your throat locked. Your eyes stung. You backed away, bumping into a chair, then stumbling behind one of the pillars near the vending corner. You crouched down, arms wrapping around your knees, trying to hold yourself together.
You weren’t crying. You weren’t screaming. But your body was breaking down like it didn’t know how to exist anymore.
Grim rushed over, skidding to a stop beside you. “Hey—hey! What’s wrong? What’s happening?! Say something!”
You couldn’t.
Your jaw was clenched. You were shaking. Your breath came in shallow gasps, too fast, not enough air.
Grim froze. “No, no, no—okay—okay, I’ll be right back! I’m getting help! Don’t move! Stay—uh—alive!”
And then he was gone.
You weren’t sure how long you sat there. Ten seconds? Ten minutes?
The cafeteria noise kept rising, falling, crashing against your ears. Your body felt like it wasn’t your own—like a cage you couldn’t escape.
And then—
"MOVE ASIDE! THEY’RE OVER HERE!"
A sharp voice cut through the storm. Someone stomped up—loud, commanding.
“Jack?” you thought.
Then—“There!” Another voice—Deuce, breathless. “Oh man—Prefect—!”
More footsteps. A low whirring. Someone yelling about “emergency student assistance.” All of it blurred. But somehow… safer.
“They’re not talking!” Grim’s voice shouted, panicked. “They’re just—shaking, and they can’t breathe, and I think they’re dying!”
“Grim,” Jack’s voice said firmly, “they’re having a panic attack.”
“What the hell’s a panic attack?!”
Jack crouched beside you, calm and solid. “It’s okay. I’ve seen this before. [Y/N], can you hear me? I’m gonna stay right here, okay?”
Your head twitched slightly. That was all you could manage.
“You’re not alone,” Jack said. “You’re safe. Focus on my voice. In… and out.”
“I—I don’t think they can,” Deuce said. “They’re—like, completely locked up.”
Ortho knelt, his voice soothing and steady. “Symptoms confirm acute panic. Recommendation: tactile reset via positive sensory override.”
“Huh?” Epel asked.
“Tickling,” Ortho said plainly.
Ace blinked. “Seriously? That’s the plan?!”
“It’ll force their brain to respond to sensation instead of panic. It’s unorthodox—but it works.”
“Tickle therapy?” Epel repeated, skeptical. “Man, Night Raven’s got weird first aid protocols.”
But Jack nodded. “Do it gently. Just enough to ground them.”
“Prefect?” Ace said carefully. “It’s just me. And I’m gonna do something dumb, but you’ll forgive me because I’m charming.”
And then—
Poke.
A jolt of surprise snapped through your ribs. Your body twitched.
“S-see?” Ace said. “Still with us.”
Another poke. A wiggling scribble. You hiccuped.
“Whuh—wha—stop—”
“Boom! There it is!” Deuce cried, relief washing through his voice.
Epel grinned. “Okay, I’m in,” and started lightly scribbling behind your knee.
“Nohoho—wait!” You gasped—but the sob got caught in a laugh.
Jack didn’t tickle you, just rested a steady hand against your back. “There you go. Focus on the sound of your laugh. Feel the pressure. You’re okay now.”
Even Sebek joined in, awkwardly jabbing at your shoulder. “IS THIS—HELPING?!”
“Sebek—gentler,” Deuce hissed.
You laughed—really laughed—through the tears and shakes. It felt ridiculous and strange and exactly what you needed.
Your lungs worked again. The noise dulled. The pressure inside you finally broke like a cracked dam.
You gasped. “I—I’m okay—s-stop—!”
Everyone backed off. Grim practically launched himself onto you.
“You scared me,” he said into your chest. “I thought you were dying!”
“I thought so too,” you whispered, still shaking a little. “I didn’t know what was happening.”
“You had a panic attack,” Jack said gently. “It can feel like everything’s falling apart. Especially the first time.”
“Do they always feel like that?”
“Sometimes. But you won’t go through it alone. Not now. Not ever.”
You looked at all of them—Ace still crouching with a mischievous grin, Deuce nervously wringing his hands, Epel offering you his soda, Ortho scanning you gently, Sebek standing like a bodyguard, and Jack calm and unshakable.
And Grim, curled up on your lap like a protective cat-dog thing.
“…Thanks,” you whispered. “All of you.”
Ace gave you a cheeky grin. “You can pay us back by never scaring us like that again.”
“No promises,” you mumbled, smiling weakly.
Ortho beamed. “Recovery: complete.”
The dorm was quiet now.
Ramshackle creaked with its usual nighttime groans—floorboards shifting, old pipes moaning—but after today, even the familiar noises felt distant. You lay in bed, not asleep, just… floating in a strange haze of exhaustion. Your limbs felt heavy. Your head was stuffed full of cotton and memories you couldn’t untangle.
The panic attack—your first panic attack (here in Twisted Wonderland at least)—still clung to your skin like static.
You didn’t know how to describe it. You didn’t even really know it was happening until it was over. It wasn’t like fear. It wasn’t like pain. It was worse, and stranger, and more complete. It had taken over everything.
And then… your friends.
And then… laughter.
Your chest ached remembering it. Not from fear—but from how fast everything had changed.
A soft creak of the floorboards. Then a hesitant voice: “...Hey. You still awake?”
You didn’t answer right away. But you didn’t need to.
Grim slowly padded into the room.
You could see the silhouette of his fur puffed up slightly—like he was trying to look brave and casual at the same time. He climbed up onto the bed with a grunt and plopped down next to your side.
Neither of you spoke at first.
“…So,” Grim said at last, his voice unusually quiet, “you, uh. Scared the fur off me today.”
You turned your head, just a little.
“Like, I know you’re dramatic sometimes,” he went on, trying to act annoyed, “but that was a whole new level. You didn’t even yell, you just froze. And then you started shaking and—and breathing all weird—” His tail lashed once, then stopped.
You let the silence settle again.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Grim said, voice barely more than a whisper. “I just—I ran. I didn’t wanna leave you, but I didn’t know what to do.”
You finally reached out and laid a hand gently on his head. His ears twitched.
“I’m glad you did,” you said softly, petting the fur. “You brought help. That saved me.”
Grim didn’t say anything.
“…I didn’t know what was happening either,” you admitted. “It felt like I couldn’t think. Or move. Or even exist right.”
“Yeah,” Grim mumbled. “I noticed.”
You gave a breathy laugh, small but real. Grim finally looked up at you, bright eyes wide.
“You feeling better now?” he asked. “Like, for real?”
You nodded, a little.
“I don’t feel great,” you said honestly. “But I don’t feel like I’m about to… fall apart again. So that’s something.”
Grim flopped onto your chest like a furry paperweight. “Good. ‘Cause if you pull that again, I’m gluing myself to your side and never leaving.”
“You already do that.”
“Yeah, well. Now I mean it medically.”
You smiled.
“…Hey,” Grim said after a moment. “Next time—if there is a next time—could you… I dunno… warn me? Like, toss a fork or something so I know you’re about to short-circuit?”
You shook your head with a tired chuckle. “I didn’t know it was coming. It just… happened.”
“Then I’m setting up a system.” He sat up with a serious look. “Like, a code word. Or a scream. Or a ‘Grim, I’m losing it’ signal.”
You raised an eyebrow. “You want a panic password?”
“Yeah! Something cool. Like… ‘Flameball!’ or ‘Tuna drop!’ or—”
You started laughing again. This time the tension in your chest actually eased.
Grim preened at your reaction. “There! See? I’m a genius.”
“Sure,” you said, wiping your eyes, “let’s go with ‘tuna drop.’”
“Perfect,” he purred, tail curling proudly. “That way, I’ll always know when you need me.”
You pulled him closer, arms curling around his soft little frame.
“I always need you,” you said into his fur.
Grim went still for a second. Then he nudged his forehead against your chin.
“…I’m not going anywhere,” he mumbled. “Not ever. Tuna drop or not.”
And somehow, that promise—so ridiculous, so Grim—meant more than anything.
You finally closed your eyes.
And this time, sleep found you.
The morning sunlight crept through the cracked windows of Ramshackle, warming the creaky wood floors and peeling wallpaper with soft gold.
You sat on the dusty couch in your oversized hoodie, a cup of tea balanced in your hands. Grim dozed next to you, curled into a sleepy loaf, occasionally twitching like he was dreaming of canned fish and chaos.
Your body still felt weird—like someone had unplugged you and then hastily plugged you back in. Your limbs worked. Your breath came easy. But the memory of yesterday hovered behind your eyes like fog.
The first panic attack.
The first time you'd ever unraveled in public. In front of your friends. In front of everyone.
And yet… it hadn’t ended in disaster. Somehow, all of them—Grim, Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho, even Sebek—had made it through that storm with you. And now it was morning.
And then someone knocked.
More like pounded.
You jumped a little, sloshing your tea. Grim blinked awake, startled. “Wha—who’s pounding on the fortress this early?!”
“I’ll get it,” you said quickly, setting the cup down.
When you opened the door—
Six voices spoke at once:
“PREFECT!!”
“YOU LIVE!”
“You’re vertical!”
“YOUR FACE HAS COLOR AGAIN!”
“Ortho says you’re at 83% stable and rising!”
“…I brought snacks.”
You stared at the first-years in a clump on your porch like an overeager boyband reunion. Epel waved a bag of sour gummies. Jack looked like he hadn’t slept until he’d confirmed your well-being. Sebek stood like a statue of dramatic loyalty. Ortho smiled serenely. Ace and Deuce just grinned like idiots.
“…What are you all doing here?”
“We came to check on you, duh,” said Ace, strolling inside without waiting for permission.
“Operation Emotional Stabilization,” Ortho announced. “Version 1.02.”
You blinked. “What happened to version 1.01?”
Epel shrugged. “It was mostly just ‘tickle them again,’ but Ortho said we needed better structure.”
“STRUCTURE AND DISCIPLINE BRING STRENGTH TO THE HEART!” Sebek declared, charging in after them. “WE WILL RESTORE YOUR VITALITY WITH MILITARY GRADE HONOR!!”
Deuce leaned in. “He’s been reading self-help books again.”
Grim yawned. “Ughhh, you’re all so loud. My henchman doesn’t need honor. They need quiet and snacks and naps and me.”
“I did bring snacks,” Epel repeated, tossing you the bag. “And Deuce brought—what is that?”
“Chamomile lavender stress tea,” Deuce said proudly, holding up a tin.
“…Deuce,” said Ace, “you hate tea.”
Deuce flushed. “I—I read it helps with nervous systems!”
Jack cleared his throat. “We’re all just… glad you’re okay. Panic attacks are no joke. I wanted to check in properly. In case you… needed anything.”
You looked at them. These six chaos gremlins who had carried you through a terrifying moment and now stood awkwardly in your haunted living room, pretending not to be worried.
Your heart swelled.
“I really appreciate you guys,” you said quietly. “Yesterday was… horrible. But you all helped more than I can say.”
“Please,” Ace said with a smirk, “if anyone was gonna save your brain with tickling, it was obviously gonna be me.”
“You poked them like a nervous crab,” Epel snorted. “I did the real work.”
Jack huffed. “It wasn’t about who did what. It was about grounding them—giving their brain a chance to stop spiraling.”
“You should’ve seen it,” Ortho added. “Your laugh response was statistically perfect.”
“…Thanks?”
“So!” Sebek barked, hands on hips. “WHAT SHALL BE OUR TRAINING FROM THIS POINT FORWARD?!”
You blinked. “Training?”
“TO GUARD AGAINST FUTURE COLLAPSES OF MENTAL FORTITUDE, I SHALL ENFORCE STRENGTH-BUILDING DRILLS OF THE MIND AND SPIRIT!”
Grim muttered, “Somebody please unplug the Sebekbot…”
Ace snapped his fingers. “Or, hear me out—we make Prefect carry a panic attack whistle. Like a little ‘peep peep’ that says ‘I’m spiraling, send help!’”
“I’m not whistling,” you said flatly.
“Then we do code words!” Deuce said. “Like, if you say ‘banana peel,’ we all know to form a cuddle circle.”
Epel nodded. “Or if you say ‘potato mode,’ we just wrap you in blankets and put on cartoons.”
“I AM NOT ENTIRELY SURE THIS IS MEDICAL SCIENCE,” Sebek said, but no one was listening.
Grim finally jumped on the table. “Okay, listen! My henchman is not a broken radio that needs backup beeping every time they freak out! They’re fine. Right?”
You looked at them—all of them—and smiled.
“I don’t know if I’m fine,” you said. “But I do know I’m not alone. And that… means a lot.”
For a second, even Sebek was quiet.
“…You’re not,” Jack said softly. “We’ve got your back. Every time.”
Ortho smiled. “And next time, we’ll initiate Version 1.03.”
“Oh no,” you laughed. “What’s in 1.03?”
“More blankets,” Ortho said proudly. “And karaoke therapy.”
Ace winced. “Sebek’s gonna scream-sing. We’re all doomed.”
“I HAVE IMPECCABLE RANGE.”
You laughed again—really laughed. It still felt a little raw, like the corners of a wound that was healing. But you weren’t hiding. You weren’t afraid. Not with them.
And not with Grim curled beside you, smugly triumphant.
credit to @thecutestgrotto for divider
“I will love you forever and when ‘forever’ ends, I’ll love you some more.”
For the event, can I request Malleus for this? I need to send ALL my love to him ASAP. Although for this, feel free to have him being the one saying it to reader.
Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 1.2k
Prompt 51: "I will love you forever and when ‘forever’ ends, I’ll love you some more."
[EVENT MASTERLIST]
There was something about being in love with a fae that would always be at least a little intimidating.
No, it wasn’t the unearthly powers that could literally rip through the fabric of time and space with a snap of his fingers. No, it wasn’t the cold, serpentine stare or the sharp fangs in his mouth that shined like well-polished knives under the right light. It wasn’t even the horns. Even though they added an extra foot onto the dragon’s already stupidly impressive height.
But there were other things, sometimes. Less tangiblethings.
You tried not to think about it too much, because you loved Tsunotarou. Really, you did. And you didn’t want some… some creeping thing at the fringes of your consciousness to ruin that.
It was cold tonight, and you puffed warm breath onto your fingers. Normally Malleus was the one waiting for you to arrive at your usual Gargoyle Filled haunts, but he’d had a meeting with his retainers today. And you weren’t surprised he was running a bit late in the aftermath.
‘Man, I’m surprised Draconia is ever on time for anything,’ Ace had complained, during some mandatory assembly or other. Watching as Malleus floated into the room a solid two hours after scheduled.
‘He’s usually very punctual,’ you’d answered, confused.
‘Sure, sure. But don’t fae have, like, super fucked up senses of time?’ the redhead mused. ‘Like I bet you could tell him to meet you in an hour and he’d show up a week later or something.’
“Child of man,” a familiar timbre called out over the snow, and you perked up immediately, hopping from foot to foot to get your circulation going again before trotting out to meet him halfway.
“Tsunotarou!” you chirped. “How was your day?”
“Dreadful,” he answered, deadpan, and bent his arm neatly so that you could tuck your fingers into the crook of his elbow and snuggle yourself into his side. He was like a walking furnace, what with the roaring, emerald fires in his belly. And the snowflakes seemed to melt before they’d even touched his skin. “Nothing but paperwork. Perhaps I should turn them all into enchanted quills, and then they might finally be fit for their positions.”
You snorted into your glove. “You’d need to turn some of them into ink then, too.”
“Ah, of course,” he intoned. And then shot you a smirk that was just on the right side of besotted. “Whatever would I do without your wise guidance?”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” you teased, and then smiled right back in that stupidly, soppy way. “But you seemed more than smart enough to manage on your own before I came along. And I’m sure you’ll go back to being brilliant when I’m gone,” you added on a laugh.
But Malleus didn’t join in your giggling.
The fae stopped in place, and you were dragged to a halt with him. You blinked up at him, confused. His expression was… complicated.
“You are leaving?” he asked, each word sounding like it had to be pried out of his mouth with a crowbar.
“What?” you blinked. “Of course not.” Crowley never having bothered to lift a feathery finger to find you a way home aside, you had more than enough reasons to stay here for as long as your meager, mortal life would allow. Going home… it soured something in your stomach that you didn’t even want to consider. So you just tightened your fingers around his arm and shot him as reassuring of a smile as you could muster. “Even if I had the choice, I’d be staying right here.”
But that just made Malleus’s brow pinch up tighter.
“Then what did you mean?” he questioned, perplexed. “When you said ‘when I’m gone.’”
Ah.
You fought a guilty wince. You hadn’t wanted to drag your own little terrors into his worries as well. You really needed to get a better leash on the poor quips that managed to tumble out of your mouth.
“Well, just that, uhm…” You waved your free hand awkwardly. “You know.”
More furrowing.
“I do not,” he said, sounding grumpy. It was a bit adorable, seeing an almighty prince and near God pout at you. But you fought off the urge to coo over his pursed lips and scrunched nose. Time and place, self. Time and place.
“I’m mortal,” you said finally, hoping that would cover it.
“And?”
Ugh. Come on, dude. Give me something here.
You shrugged, tight and awkward. “Just that, well, you know. Your lifespan is near infinite right? And mine is sort of set to be…” You held up your fingers and pinched them close together. “Uhm. Not that.”
“And you think that such an inconsequential factor means that you will be leaving me?” he asked, and you blinked at him in outright confusion.
“It’s pretty consequential,” you squeaked out, and averted your gaze. “And.. and besides. I knew that from the beginning. And I just want to be able to make the best out of the time with you that I have,” you said, hoping it sounded properly reassuring and not like the start of a particularly peppy obituary.
“…I see,” the Prince said, low. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll be gone, I’m sure.”
You blinked again, owlish and slow.
“Pardon?”
“What is the human expression…?” he hummed, tucking your arm back tightly against his side and starting up your leisurely stroll once more. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder? Almost so much as time itself.”
Yeah, you wanted to amend. But not from beyond the grave.
“I guess so,” you shrugged.
“Can you imagine then,” he hummed. “How much I’ll love you in a thousand years?”
“I—” you swallowed, feeling tears prick at the back of your eyes.
But rather than give your poor, fluttering soul a chance to recover, he just pushed onwards.
“I will love you forever, and when ‘forever’ ends, I suppose that I’ll just love you even more,” he said, perfectly level and serious, like he hadn’t just absolutely pulled your heart out of your chest and set the whole of you on fire.
You stared up at his regal, handsome face from beneath a soft veil of falling snow. With those cold, emerald eyes, the pointed fangs, the horns. You felt like your stomach had fallen out at your toes, like the whole of you was bound to float away like a balloon lost in the breeze. Because he’d said—he’d really—
“And of course,” the dragon shrugged. “I’ve always intended to extend your lifespan to begin with.”
You gaped at him wordlessly for a moment, before letting out a hideously embarrassed squawk and pounding at his chest with your gloved hands.
“You could’ve told me that!” you shrieked, practically steaming in the cold with the heat pulsing off your cheeks.
“I suppose,” he smirked, catching your flailing fists easily in one of his own large hands. “But then I wouldn’t have been able to see your reaction to my declarations, would I?” he cooed, all smooth, dark chocolate and smoky embers. “And I had to work so hard to memorize those lines. Fitting as they are, I was told that the moment to use them would have to be perfect, and—"
“Did Lilia set you up for this?” you choked.
Malleus snorted and turned to tug you further down the path. “Only a little.”
.
.
Rivalry
summary: After Grim loudly claims that you’re "the only one allowed to be my hench-human forever" in front of Ace and Deuce. Deuce takes it very seriously. He’s suddenly determined to prove he’s the better choice to be your number one by showing it to you through various means. And now you have a love struck Heartslabyul student and a jealous cat monster fighting for your attention.
pairing: deuce spade x gn!reader
warnings: very dialogue heavy, the usual stupidity that comes with heartshackle.
word count: 1.6k
Lunch had started like any other day. You, Grim, Ace, and Deuce were crowded around a table, eating and chatting between bites. Grim, as usual, was stealing from your plate despite having his own food.
"Ugh," Ace groaned. "Pairing us up for alchemy project without even letting us choose? That's unfair!"
"It's Crewel," you said.
"Seriously, we're the ones who have to suffer." he huffed, "What if we get stuck with some lazy bum who expects us to do all the work?"
You wanted to comment that knowing Ace's grade in alchemy, he would be the one to drag his partner down but you instead settled on a shrug and said, "It's supposed to teach us teamwork."
Ace scoffed. "More like it's teaching me how to carry someone's dead weight. What about you guys? Who'd you get?"
"I got some guy from Pomefiore," you answered, poking at your food. "He seems nice enough."
"Eh, how lucky," Ace mused. Then, he turned to Deuce. "And you?"
Deuce, who had been oddly quiet, frowned slightly. "Some student from Ignihyde. He barely talks."
"Yikes." Ace shook his head. "Bet you wish you had a better partner, huh? If you could pick anyone, who would it be?"
Deuce hesitated. He looked at his plate, thinking for a long moment. Then, as if the answer had been obvious all along, he turned to you.
"The Prefect, probably."
You blinked in surprise. "Me?"
Deuce nodded.
"You're reliable. You actually try to get things done instead of slacking off. If I had to do a project with anyone, I'd want someone I can count on."
You laughed, a little flustered. "That's a nice compliment, thank you."
Before the conversation could continue, Grim suddenly slammed his paws onto the table, nearly knocking over your glass of water.
"NO WAY!" he barked, fur bristling. "No one gets to be their number one but me!"
Ace burst into laughter. "What!?"
Grim turned to you, puffing out his chest. "You're the only one allowed to be my hench-human forever!"
Silence followed his statement.
Ace recovered first, snorting. "Whoa, where's this coming from? Who's trying to steal your 'hench-human,' furball?"
Grim scoffs. "No one! I'm just sayin' you two dunces don't stand a chance."
"Grim. This is not a competition." you sighed.
"But we're a team!"
There was no arguing with him when he got like this. "Sure, Grim. Whatever you say."
Satisfied, Grim went back to eating, clearly believing the discussion was over.
But…
"So, you're saying anyone who wants to be their number one has to prove they're better than you?" Deuce asked, his expression serious. Something about the way he said it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
Grim scoffed. "No one's gonna do that 'cause no one's better than me!"
Deuce frowned, but his expression quickly turned determined. You didn't like that look.
"Alright," he said, clenching a fist. "Challenge accepted."
You stared at him. "Excuse me?"
"I'll prove I'm the better choice to be your number one!" Deuce declared, eyes burning with conviction.
Grim shot up. "Hey! What's that supposed to mean?!"
"No! You two are not doing this!" you raised your hand to grab their attention, but your words fell into deaf ears as Grim and Deuce had a stare-down.
You let out a sigh for the nth time that day.
Deuce and Grim were not lying when they took 'being your number one' as a competition. The very next morning you had to deal with them.
Deuce was already at your side, reaching for your bag.
"I'll carry that."
"Deuce, I can carry my own bag."
"But I should do it," he insisted. "A good partner helps out however they can."
Before you could protest, Grim leapt onto your shoulder.
"Well, I help out by keeping 'em company! Try beatin' that!"
Deuce frowned, considering something. Then, his eyes brightened with realization.
"I could walk them to class every day."
Grim gasped in offence. "I already do that!"
"Yeah, but I'll make sure they actually get there instead of wandering off and getting roped into trouble."
"Myah! No, I don't wander!"
"Okay!" You stepped between them before a fight broke out. "That's enough!"
The two of them turned to you expectantly.
You exhaled through your nose. "Look. I appreciate the thought, really. But I don't need to be walked to class. I don't need someone carrying my stuff. And I definitely don't need you two constantly trying to one-up each other!"
There was a long pause.
"... So what you're saying is," Deuce began, rubbing his chin, "I need to do more than just carrying things?"
Grim's ears flattened. "That's not what they said!"
Ace smirked, seemingly enjoying the scene. "Wow, Prefect, tough crowd today."
I need new friends, was the only thought that occupied your mind all the way to your class.
When lunchtime rolled around, you expected to enjoy a quiet meal. If anything went wrong, Riddle would definitely collar both Grim and Deuce. So, you were not worried about anything actually going wrong.
Unfortunately (well, fortunately, but Grim got involved) Deuce had gone ahead and brought you lunch.
"Here," he says, setting your food in front of you before sitting down. "You like this stuff, right?"
You blinked. "Yeah, but…"
"What do you think you're doin'?" Grim butt in.
"Just helping them out." Deuce frowned.
"Oh yeah?" Grim huffed. "Well, I always share my food with them!"
Which was the biggest lie anyone would ever hear from Grim. You had to fight him off every time his paw would reach for your food.
You turned to stare at Grim. "Grim. You literally steal food from my plate."
"Myah! It's called sharing!" he insisted, crossing his little arms, then turned to Deuce. "Besides, what makes you think the hench-human wants you buyin' their food, huh?"
Deuce stiffened, suddenly looking uncertain. "I mean… I just thought–"
"Hey, if you're bringing people lunch, I wouldn't mind one too," Ace cut in, grinning as he reached for your plate.
"This isn't for you," Deuce smacked his hand away without hesitation.
"Ooh, I see how it is," Ace snickered.
"There's nothing to see," Deuce said quickly, ears turning pink.
You sighed, shaking your head. "Deuce, I appreciate it, but you don't have to bring me lunch."
"I wanted to," he said, stubborn as ever. His eyes were set with the same determination he had when he swore to be your number one.
"Then I should be the one doin' it!" Grim declared, puffing out his chest.
You shot him a look. "Grim, you steal my food."
"You're missing the point!" he said, scrambling for some sort of rebuttal. "I don't need to bring lunch to be the best! I got charm! And loyalty! And–" He trailed off, ears flicking as he struggled to think of more reasons. Finally, he threw his paws up in frustration. "And I am the Great Grim! And I don't see you tryin' to be a better number one than me!"
"Because I don't just say it. I prove it." Deuce said in a smug tone.
Grim slammed his paws on the table. "Fine! I'll prove it, too!"
Deuce met his challenge head-on, slamming his own hands on the table. "Fine!"
"Keep this up and Riddle will come here and collar both of you," you grumbled, which shut both of the idiots up.
"What are you doing, Deuce?" you asked the boy with a toolbox in your dorm. Something always kept happening, and you were on your last straw.
He cleared his throat. "I noticed your door's been sticking out, so I thought I'd fix it."
You blinked at him. "Deuce. That's… actually really nice."
You barely had time to be touched by the gesture before a blur of gray fur shot past you.
"OH, NO YOU DON'T!"
Grim skidded to a halt in front of the door, standing his ground like a knight protecting their master.
"I already fixed it!"
Deuce frowned. "You did?"
"Yeah! Used my claws to pry it loose!"
You slapped a hand to your forehead. "Grim, that's not fixing it–"
"But I did it for you!"
Deuce narrowed his eyes. "I can actually fix it. Properly."
"Like I'd let you take my job!" Grim's fur stood on their end.
And then they started arguing again. Right outside the door.
It took forever to separate them, and by the time you did, you had enough.
You planted your hands on your hips. "That's it! I am done with this stupid competition! Stop this nonsense!"
Deuce and Grim froze.
Grim blinked up at you. "Huh?"
You exhaled, dragging a hand down your face. "Look. I get it. You both want to be my 'number one', but you don't have to prove anything to me."
Deuce bit his lip, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You're both important to me," you continued. "And I don't need ridiculous competitions or going out of your way to do things for me to prove that. Just be yourselves."
There was a beat of silence. Then Grim huffed, crossing his little arms. "Fine. But I still say I'm your number one."
"Grim." You glared.
"What? You said I don't have to prove anything!"
Deuce let out a quiet chuckle.
You turned to him, exhausted. "And you. Are we done with this?"
A faint pink dusted his cheeks. "Yeah. Sorry about that."
"Good."
You closed the door behind you, rubbing your temples. You couldn’t help but think about how much energy had been wasted on this ridiculous competition. You had things to do. Assignments to finish, a half-broken dorm to manage, and you had to handle the biggest troublemaker in NRC.
As you sighed, relieved the ordeal was over, Deuce hesitated before speaking.
"But if I did have to prove something, it wouldn’t just be about being your number one." He swallowed, his usual determination wavering. "I… I like you." His face was burning now. "Not just as a friend. I– I wanted to show you that."
Grim gagged. You ignored Grim, meeting Deuce’s nervous gaze. Then, you smiled. "You didn’t have to prove anything for that, either."
His eyes widened, then softened, lips curving into a grin.
© ladyfocalors
Asking the Housewardens help with trans tape (SMAU)
summary: you started using trans tape but needed some help from your partner
trope: established relationship, hurt/comfort, reassurance
info: trans FTM reader, transmasc reader, body dysmorphia, binding
characters: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, idia, malleus (lilia mentioned)
my first smau :P (ignore the timestamp not important idk how to work the app..)
Riddle
Leona
Azul
Kalim
Vil
Idia
Malleus
a/n: MEMI IS SO DIFFICULT WTF I use to have an app that does smau but I DELETED IT N NOW ITS NOT IN THE APP STORE I hate light mood but it didn’t look good dark mood…
I tried tape once but it felt weird n didn’t look flat enough.. I usually use a binder but i feel like i should try it again.
Getting Kidnapped was Not on the List! [Malleus x Reader]
Trigger warnings: Mentions of being eaten alive. Mentions of body pain/descriptions of shifting.
Not proofread.
The future king of Briar Valley isn't sure why he has such a feeling of impending doom, but it worries at him. He looks out the window of his room in Diasomnia as if he can see across the cobblestone and into town where you're supposed to be shopping right now. Malleus hums, green eyes narrowing as the book he's reading presses into his lower lip.
Yes, something is certainly amiss.
He feels tingly, like his very nerves are pricking and sparking at something. Malleus stands to his full height, putting the book down as he makes his way outside. There's nothing unusual in the sky, no ominous clouds, but he feels the shimmer of a glamour in the air.
It's faint, but he can sense it. Nowhere near the school, he'd gather. Wherever it is, he can't quite pinpoint it. He heads back inside to grab some snacks for the crows and ravens that call the trees around Diasomnia home. Hearing the familiar rattle of croutons, seeds, and nuts, a few of them perk up and call curiously. "Come, my friends!" Malleus encourages, sitting on the stone bench outside the dorm. They swarm, wings fluttering impatiently as he picks balanced handfuls and lays them at their feet. "Now that you're fed," Malleus leans down to them and speaks casually, like he's having tea with Sebek or Lilia, "would you mind doing a bit of scouting for me? There seems to be an active glamour and I'm curious. You would be rewarded handsomely, I assure you." They take off and he chuckles. Loyal familiars, birds. His grandmother adores them, too. Malleus brushes crumbs and bits from his pants, pushing off of the bench. All at once his chest seizes and Malleus startles.
It's enough to knock the air out of him. Is it...terror?
His phone rings in his pocket and he fishes for it, growling through the fluttering squeeze in his chest. "Hello?"
"Malleus! Help me, please!"
"Child of Man?! What's wrong?!" Malleus felt his fangs growing, threatening to cut his own tongue. The tremble in your voice, the fear, sent his stomach churning and boiling. He could feel the muscles in his back rippling as he lost his grip on his own glamour, the extra ligaments and bones needed for his wings threatening to tear his human shoulders as he staved off shifting from a biped to a quadruped.
"You dare call upon the future king?!" he heard a voice sneer with rage and disbelief. "Insolent, disgusting thing!"
"How dare you?!" Malleus roars, wincing as his jaw pops a little. His human mouth pales in comparison to the wide maw of his dragon form. Pearly teeth click against each other as they begin lose their human shape. "You shall not address my Child of Man in such a way!"
"My liege, please--"
"You call me liege but fail to state your name! That is TRUE insolence!" Malleus feels the claw on his thumb cut his cheek. He doesn't care. "To WHOM do I speak?"
"E-Elm Leafdance, sire."
The name is somewhat familiar. He vaguely recalls a miserly fae always moping about and telling old tales about horrible humans. Everyone in the castle could recite them word for word. Lilia was at odds with him, he recalled. At one point Elm had been accused of kidnapping Silver but Lilia never made a formal complaint before the court so it faded into obscurity.
"Unhand my Child of Man, Leafdance! If you have qualms with them, I shall be addressed in their stead. Come to me at once!"
"A most generous offer, young king," the fae is stuttering now, "but leaving would prove costly to, your, um...Child of Man..."
He can barely comprehend through the haze of rage. Malleus feels his chest burning to a nauseating degree, the green fire begging to be set free. Wisps of smoke slither from his lips. He snorts, expelling most of it. If Leafdance cannot leave you unattended, that means you're at the mercy of some kind of enchantment with sentience that he controls.
That sentience would diminish with distance and who knows how that would leave you? Clearly you're being restrained if it would prove 'costly'. The idea of you being in any peril ESPECIALLY from a fae has Malleus seething. His phone is barely holding on; Malleus can feel the fractured screen poking his cheek.
He turns sharply towards Diasomnia, half-floating as he jumps from ledge to crenel, climbing up a merlon to stare at the town in the distance. "Raise your sigil and I shall come to you." Malleus snaps the phone even though he tried to mash the 'end call' button. Putting his thumb through it just pressed everything inward and it crumpled like a can.
Malleus casts the broken phone aside, watching the sky out of the corner of his eye as he ascends the main tower of Diasomnia. It is one of the taller point on campus, only rivaled by NRC itself. He hunches, releasing his glamour.
His grand shadow looms over Diasomnia, wings stirring gusts as he launches off the stone. The stone crumbles a bit, his claws leaving scratches. Malleus doesn't remember the last time he flew in his true form but the wind cutting around his scales feels nice. A glittering leaf sparks in the distance and he bellows, pawing at the air as if that will help him rise faster.
Malleus catches an updraft, oblivious to Lilia ripping out of Diasomnia's storage room on a broom. The prince darts forward, his eyes hard and pupils slitted. His tail whips to and fro, top layer of scales raised and acting as a stabilizer.
He breaches the enchantment and lands in the clearing. Sadly, the thought to land ON Leafdance didn't cross his mind. The ground trembles beneath him, claws sinking into the soft grass. Malleus lowers his head to Leafdance not as a greeting, but to better see the cretin that dares harm his cherished Child of Man.
"S-Sire!" the chestnut-haired man squeaks, "H-How nice to see you!"
Malleus snorts in response, knocking the fae back. I cannot say the same, Malleus glares at the fae, green embers dancing at the back of his throat. Flecks of green sparkle in his teeth. Some dragon fae can talk in their true form but he cannot. Where is my Child of Man?
"On the subject of the human--" Leafdance begins.
His ferocious rage dims as he inhales your scent. Malleus relaxes a bit and it's like his vision clears, allowing him to see the clusters of trees and tangle of roots you're stuck in. It was a nasty gnarl, for certain. If Elm left, it would surely knot around you and you'd lose a limb (at the very least). Judging by the lone arm sticking out of the tangle, he'd guess you were being twisted and the weight of the branches would crush you.
Not something to be stuck in.
Release them, Malleus' stares at Elm, satisfied with the way the fae shakes while looking at the reflection in his large eye.
"But sire! Please come to your senses! Humans are--"
Malleus isn't sure what came over him in that moment. He was annoyed, yes, but even when in his dragon form he was rational. Composed. Regal. Fully cognizant.
And he's fully aware that he lunges forward, all teeth.
The terrified squawk is muffled in the wet cavern of his mouth, Malleus chomping on the feeble body. He feels the bones roll, flesh squishing against his teeth like pulp. I think I'd rather have Lilia's cooking, Malleus muses as he bobs his head to send the remains down his throat.
The twist of roots explode, no longer connected to their summoner. He's surprised to find you awake and alert. Perhaps Elm meant to keep you conscious and make you suffer. You're dazed and covered in tree bits.
Even in this form he finds you adorably tiny. He can't laugh in this form; it turns into a rumble of a coo. You flinch when the towering creature registers in your vision but something about the brilliant green of that eye, the way those massive paws--claws?--fold patiently in front of you, gives you pause.
"M-Malleus?" you've turned over onto your hands and knees. He rests his maw on his paws, blinking at you.
It is I, Child of Man, Malleus snorts gently. It blows your hair around and the sound he gives is akin to a purr. You sit back on your knees, stunned and staring up at him with thoughtful adoration.
Joy. Relief. Love, perchance?
He can tell it's weird for you to hear his voice but you recover quickly. The idea that his voice sooths you is more than enough for him.
"I didn't realize you could turn into an actual dragon. I just thought being a dragon fae meant you had horns and a tail!" you laughed, cheeks turning red as the embarrassment hit you.
We fae have many secrets, Malleus nudges you with his snout, careful not to shove you. He feels your tiny, warm hands brush his scales. Trace them.
Ooh it's divine! Malleus' tail beats the ground and he's careful to knock the trees away from the two of you. "Thank you for saving me," You kiss the side of his face and wonder if he feels it. His pupil dilates and you laugh as the side of a pink tongue comes out to lick you. "But you squished my groceries. I'll need to make another trip. Want to join me?"
"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!" Lilia drops down from the broom, landing squarely between Malleus' horns. He grabs onto the closest one, feet slipping as Malleus furrows his forehead and starts to move. "Don't swing me, you heathen! I can't believe you FLEW OFF FROM THE SCHOOL!" Lilia shakes the broom, yelping as Malleus looks down and forces him to dangle.
My human was in trouble. What was I to do?
"Tell Crowley?!" Lilia lets go to float in front of Malleus, one hand on his hip. Malleus huffs in response, blowing the fae towards a tree. Had he not teleported, Lilia would be dealing with some serious back pain! He reappeared beside you, leaning on the broom.
I needed a solution, not another problem, Malleus shook his head.
"Why can't Malleus come to the store with me?" you interrupt the staring contest. Apparently Malleus could filter people out when it came to telepathy; he and Lilia were making faces at each other.
"Because he needs to digest what he ate before he reverts to his human form." Lilia sighed. Malleus certainly wasn't the first dragon to eat someone but the boy hadn't been properly educated about taking care of himself after doing so. He'd been taught basic etiquette about showing off his fangs and how to control his wings but eating things in his dragon form hadn't been on anyone's mind since he preferred to be in his human form.
He was a gentle soul, much like his father, and no one really saw him resorting to such things. Queen Maleanor, absolutely! Stories of Queen Maleficia tearing chunks out of annoying suitors certainly made the rounds but no one really saw that in Malleus until now.
"He'll have terrible indigestion if he doesn't." Lilia frowned. "Among other issues."
How long will it take? Malleus cocked his head at Lilia.
"At least an hour. Two to be on the safe side." Lilia sighed, shaking his head.
"Well, I still need groceries." you shrugged, getting off the ground. You'd just have to use whatever bags the store gave you. You're sure the ones under Malleus can't be saved.
Oh Child of Man, for whom my heart sings, might you pay tribute with a bit of ice cream?
"A kiss wasn't enough?" you teased.
"A kiss? Oh, Malleus, you cheeky thing!" Lilia laughs. His young charge may be in dragon form but even dragons can be embarrassed. It's mostly awkward shuffling, dismissive wing flaps, and avoidant eyes, but it's still hilarious.
I would like both, thank you, Malleus' tail starts to wag again. It wags harder when he takes Lilia by surprise and blows him through a cluster of trees like a dandelion seed.
"I'll see what I can do," you pat the side of his face before walking over to help Lilia up and head back to the store.
── AND THE POISON STAINS MY MOUTH
malleus draconia. mortality, humanity and grief.
Malleus will never know grief before you.
He thinks of grief as a concept made by humans, their time on this realm so fickle and small; a painting of his mother and father in the colours of Lilia's mourning garment, an absence of which he as a child struggled to understand. He grasps at the idea of it, cradles it in his tiny palms like a flickering firefly. The curious fae-child dreams of loss, but no sort of magic can conjure the ache of something he never had.
He cradles the firefly anyway, watches its light flicker and die out. When you call his name and he looks up to see you — youthful, vibrant, mortal — Malleus wonders if the same fate will befall upon you.
Malleus tries to borrow the grief from the part of him that will exist in decades time. Grasps at that dying light in a future he cannot imagine, a future without you. There is something morbid here, he understands— a fixation on the concept of grief, mourning, mortality. He will never understand it, he thinks. He tries anyway. But grief is a painting he cannot capture when you are still living and breathing beside him, your light candescent in the perpetual dullness that Malleus himself never realised his life was stuck in.
He cannot imagine it, this— this life without you. That one day he will look upon the stars and you are not somewhere in the same realm, looking up at the very same constellations. It is not a matter of refusing to acknowledge it, no— Malleus simply cannot fathom the very real possibility that one day he will be here and you will be gone.
Malleus wonders what Lilia sees when he looks at him with you, what makes his eyes soften and the mourning weigh less on his shoulder. As a growing child, Malleus had thought that Lilia's grief grew smaller as the centuries passed— he understands now that the scope of Lilia's life has only grown around it, no longer twin wounds in the gaping maw of his chest, but hands cradling the grief as Meleanor might have done to Malleus, had she lived long enough to see him hatch.
"They will die one day," Lilia told him once, hovering by Malleus's perch on the balcony as they watch you walk down the stone steps of Diasmonia. "You understand this, don't you?"
"Of course I do," Malleus had said, even when he did not. A life without you did not seem to be much of a life at all, only some far-away dream, one that Malleus finds himself not indifferent to, but certainly unaffected by— for now, at least.
"You will grieve them for the rest of your days."
"I know."
"Do you understand grief, my boy?"
Malleus is quiet. He looks to Lilia, this man that has raised him since he was but a hatchling, who had once loved his parents and grieved for the absence of them in his life that Malleus had never
"No," Malleus confesses.
"You will," Lilia says softly, his voice not unkind, but full of pity. He knows what it is to grieve, but he had lived centuries with Meleanor and Raverne— you will pass long before Malleus is a Fae fully-grown; your life is but a drop in the ocean of his. "By the Seven, my boy, you will."
The Prefect Was Here
Synopsis: The VDC boys notice the ways in which The Prefect has left their mark.
Something Ace notices during his time staying in Ramshackle is the various out of place chairs and boxes in different rooms of the dorm. He first realized they were there because he would trip over them or stub his toe on their corners. He'd move the objects out of the way to prevent himself from injuring himself on them again, but the next day they'd be back in their spots. This little cycle of him stumbling over the objects, moving them, and then stumbling over them again the next day repeated for a while until one late evening when the pieces clicked. Ace was leaving his room to get a glass of water from the kitchen when he looked over the railing of the stairs to see you stood atop one of the particularly annoying chairs placed in the lounge. A chair he trips over almost every morning in his half-awake state placed right next to the fireplace. Watching you organize various photo albums on a shelf above the mantle, he finally understood. He stopped moving the objects that no longer seemed out of place after that. They were right where they belonged: next to tall shelves, high up windows, and the occasional rickety door you had to open by shimmying it open from the top.
You often lent Deuce your notes to copy for those class periods he just couldn't keep his eyes open: exhausted from a long night of studying. At first he didn't notice anything, too busy frantically taking notes. It wasn't until he was staying in Ramshackle and he no longer had to worry about getting your notebook to you before day's end when you'd head off to your dorm and he to his that he saw it. As he was studying your notes he saw a little doodle on the edge of the page. The doodle was of Grim stirring a cauldron while standing on a stool, his goggles falling off his head. As he continued through your notes he saw ones of Epel carving an apple, Rook shooting a bow, and Vil looking studying rehearsal footage. Flipping back through the book and starting from the beginning he noticed the doodles seemed to be telling the story of your time at NRC. Early in the book, before there were notes on classes, there were doodles of the dark mirror, Crowley, and Grim. About the time you were officially enrolled there were drawings of the great 7, Ace with a smug look on his face, and even Deuce summoning a cauldron. He's asking to borrow your notes again? You could have sworn he was awake all class period (he just wants to see any new doodles).
Kalim noticed the walls, or more specifically: what was on them. It wasn't the boarded-up holes that drew his attention, nor was it the dust that you never could seem to get rid of completely. What got Kalim's attention were the drawings. In the kitchen, in your room, and on various doors there were drawings taped to the wood. Some were colorful while other were monochrome. Big, small, detailed, simple; he loved all of them! In your room you had an entire wall covered in pieces of your art, many of said pieces being of your friends and your various adventures. Your door was basically an extension of that wall just with a prominent sign in the middle reading 'Prefect and Grim.' Grim's name seemed to be written in his own handwriting (pawwriting?) and at the bottom of the sign laid a pawprint and a handprint. The other doors that had signs were rooms like the bathroom, laundry room, and the rooms each of the boys stayed in. The first few signs were put there by yourself to help the guys more easily navigate the sometimes-confusing building while the ones on each of their doors was to make them feel like they too belonged there. The kitchen had various drawings or little doodles your friends made for you. No matter how simple or detailed the drawing, you had every single thing anyone had drawn for your here displayed on the wall. All but Grim's art. He had his own pedestal (the fridge) for that. Kalim made sure to make his fair share of contributions to your display wall.
Jamil was in charge of the kitchen during the VDC and found some things rather unusual from the moment he stepped foot in there. Nearly all of your upper shelves were completely empty and when he pulled out a drawer he assumed would be a utensil drawer all he found was towels. That would be fine on its own, but none of the drawers had utensils. The upper cabinets that did have things in them held cleaning supplies, items that are commonly agreed to go below the sink. Just when he thought he was going to have to go back to Scarabia to get any kitchenware, he checked the lower cabinets. That's where he found pots, pans, cups, plates, and any other kitchen item you'd need all organized nicely as if they weren't in the most bizarre of places. Just as he was about to resign to silently judging you for your dishware placement, Grim came up beside him and opened one of the lower cabinets to grab a cup before scampering over to a step ladder placed next to the counter so he could reach the faucet and fill his cup with water. After seeing that he supposed your placement of things made sense. And after much time cooking in your kitchen as well as having to bend down to grab items he also realized that you must be even kinder than he originally thought (or just plain stupid, but he's keeping that thought to himself).
Vil is a man of beauty. He believes in not only you as a person looking your best at all times but also making sure your surrounding look their best. He understood most of Ramshackle's 'quirks' were unfixable as things were, and you did seem to keep the place remarkably clean all things considered, but there was something that caught his scrutinous eye. Clothes hung up to dry in the laundry room and bathroom (it was too cold to dry them outside) splattered in paint and a door that had matching patterns. At one point he grew curious as to what could possibly possess a person to leave a door in such a state and decided to open it. He almost fainted when he saw inside. The walls, ceiling, floor, and any furniture unlucky enough to be in the room was covered in layers of paint. The only thing that seemed to be kept clean was the window with a view of the forest beside the dorm. He left that day deciding that how you kept that room didn't affect him. As long as your mess didn't encroach into his space he would leave you to your mayhem. However, something odd began to happen. On a day Vil felt especially stressed, he went to do his laundry. When he closed the washer door and turned it on he looked up to see a row of paint splattered clothes hung up to dry, and before he knew it he was opening the door to what he assumed to be your art studio. He closed the door gently behind him and simply stood there in the room as the evening sun cast warm rays of light in through the window. It was as he stood there that he realized just how comforting the room's atmosphere was. It was hectic with all the paint everywhere and yet calming and homely at the same time. Now whenever he got too stressed during the VDC he went to that room to simply take a moment to breathe and forget about the stresses of being perfect. To look around at the remnants of pieces you put your heart and soul in splattered across the walls: telling a story only you know but that anyone who takes the time to observe can feel. Now, he may even see your paint splattered clothes and face to be rather endearing (not that he'll admit it).
Ever the hunter of Beauty, Rook notices a lot of ways in which you leave your mark on this world. The stickers on the covers of your notebooks, the patched sewn a bit sloppily onto your clothes, and even the spots on your front doorstep that have been ever so slightly worn down from scraping off mud and/or snow every time you come inside are all glorious examples of how you make the world more beautiful by being here. However, he does have a favorite. Out of every way you show that you've been here in this world, that you existed, his favorite by far is yours and Grim's height charts lightly scratched into the wall in a corner of the kitchen in a nook between the fridge and the wall. You wouldn't see it unless you really looked, but as we all know, he looks. Seemingly etched into the wall with a fork, butterknife, or something of the sort as not to be erased or easily covered up by paint are two separate sets of dashes. One is low to the floor while the other is about where the top of your head would be were you to stand with your back to the wall. Each chart has initials below the lowest mark and each dash has a date next to it. However, what really gets Rook's heart soaring is the initials and how after the letter of each of your first names there is an R. Now, Rook knows Grim doesn't have a last name and that you haven't uttered a word about what yours is (whether it be because you forgot or just simply don't want to tell people). Overwhelmed with curiosity he hunts down the ghosts to ask them the meaning of the R to which they tell him it stands for Ramshackle. You and Grim saw each other as family and so you decided to unofficially create a last name to share. When you were unable to agree on a good one you suggested Ramshackle so as to always remember your roots in this world. Rook won't encroach on the memory by asking to put a height chart of his own next to the two of yours, but you do notice that suddenly any official paperwork you or Grim gets has 'Ramshackle' after your first names.
What Epel notices are the big tape Xs in various places within the dorm. On the stairs, on the a spot in the hallway on the 2nd floor, there're even parts of the banister wrapped in blue tape. At some point he gets curious and prods at the banister only for it to sway and nearly fall off. This catches his attention so he goes through the dorm looking for places with tape on them to see if his hypothesis was correct, and, wouldn't ya know it, it was. All the places with tape are areas that could be considered hazardous for one reason or another. At first he wonders if you were just really dumb and put tape there to try and fix it, but when he sees you avoiding the areas too he decided that's not it. Then the idea comes up that perhaps they're there for an inspector that's going to come to fix up ramshackle, but it becomes apparent that's not the case when you come back one evening: exhausted from trying to convince Crowley to do something about the water damage in the attic only to be shut down. It isn't until he sees you yank Kalim back by the collar of his shirt as he was about to step on one of the Xs that he realizes you put them there to keep people safe. Epel tried pulling up a piece of tape at one pint in his inspection to get a better idea of what was underneath it and for the life of him he couldn't get it unstuck. At least he know for sure that it will stay there for generations to come acting as a kind reminder to anyone else who ventures into the dorm to avoid those areas and keep themselves safe.
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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ friends forever
summary: a beaded competition for yuu's affections type of post: drabbles characters: all students additional info: platonic or romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, based on an ask I got a while ago, fluffy, predictable sappy ending
Word travels fast at Night Raven College.
Gossip, secrets, whispers exchanged in the darkened halls, from student to professor, to professor to ghost, to student again.
The Ramshackle Prefect was beaming, bright as the dawn itself on Monday morning, a string of blue plastic beads on one arm. They seldom smiled so much, and for good reason- but Monday, they were glowing, holding out their wrist, and telling anyone who would listen about the gift their "best friend" had given them. It was an enthralling sight.
Deuce Spade, the poor, sweet boy, had become patient zero.
Word travels faster at Night Raven College when it's about the Prefect.
Deuce Spade had claimed title of best friend with a string and sixteen translucent plastic beads, something that made Ace Trappola itch. He didn't care! He didn't! Of course, he stayed up all night, trying and failing and trying again, to tie the tiny knot on a black-and-red beaded bracelet. But that didn't mean he cared!
It's on your arm, right above Deuce's, on Tuesday.
"Thank you, Ace!" you had smiled, announcing it to the entire unbirthday party. "You really are my best friend!"
Ace looked over his shoulder to smugly grin at his dormmates. "Aww, this old thing? It's nothing, just thought your wrist looked a little lonely with only one,"
It was a rather strange sight: the housewarden of Heartslabyul, his scepter and crown set to the side, his back hunched as he strung black, red, and gold beads over his desk that night. Riddle Rosehearts marched over to you first thing in the morning, set his bracelet in your waiting palm, and marched away, his face redder than his hair.
Trey Clover had forgotten all about homework, promising Deuce two week's worth of dish duty in exchange for beads and string. Forest green and black. He was too shy to give it to you himself, and left it at your doorstep in a basket of tea leaves and leftover tart. It smells of vanilla.
Cater Diamond made sure to snap a pic of his bracelet on your arm, black, red, and orange beads, with his and your initials right next to each other. "#BFFs #besties"
His Magicam story was viewed over 6,000 times.
...Mostly by the same people, over and over.
Ruggie Bucchi had a different take on the situation. See, he didn't have the kinda cash to spend on beads and string and fancy charms, and so you wore a striking dandelion crown to your classes on Thursday morning.
Jack Howl braided you a simple, brown-stringed band to wear on your wrist or ankle or wherever you liked it. You had told him you loved it, rumor said.
Then, all came to a halt.
Word spread that Leona Kingscholar had tried gifting you an expensive, golden-beaded bracelet from his home, (one that would haven taken up half your forearm), and you had refused it. You couldn't possibly accept such a nice gift, you said.
You would, as it seemed, only accept handmade friendship bracelets.
Kalim al-Asim kept Jamil Viper up all night, weaving and unweaving, beading and unbeading, doing and redoing and redoing again, until he had perfected your friendship bracelet in all colors of the rainbow. Little did he know that Jamil had already given you one that afternoon. It smelled of spices, giving away the fact that he had made it in between cooking meals.
Azul Ashengrotto told his staff he was taking a morning off to study, went to the beach, and collected shells in every shape and color. He strung them on black fishing line, and smiled as he gave them to you, free of charge. "Just something to remember me by when I'm away," he said, his face redder than it felt.
Floyd Leech had started one, but became bored of the tedious beading after ten minutes and decided to dedicate his next basketball win to you instead. Jade Leech finished it, and, while his brother was distracted, lined the teal-and-black striped beads with mushroom-shaped charms.
Vil Schoenheit never half-asses anything, friendship bracelet or not. He would do most anything to hear those sweet words of thanks on your lips (not that he'd admit it), even if that means taking hours out of his busy schedule to dye white yarn in wine and weave it with his gilded initials and red, bejeweled hearts. He likes seeing himself on you.
Rook Hunt, ever the nonconformist, fashions you a necklace out of broken bow strings and an arrowhead from his favorite quiver. He puts it on you himself, his fingers brushing against your throat and lingering on the back of your neck for a moment too long, as if enjoying the feeling of your heartbeat.
But Epel Felmier outdoes them all.
For on Friday morning, you come to class with a bracelet of lavender-painted wooden beads, his initials carved into the soft oak, and he comes in wearing the same bracelet, but with yours.
How had no one thought to make a matching one for themselves???
Idia Shroud 3D prints a bracelet in your favorite color, and Ortho Shroud engraves the flat surface with your favorite characters... they make two more for themselves, as if in a sort of secret club. It gives Idia quite the thrill to think about, though he'd never say it.
Sebek Zigvolt hmphs at the idea of showing such loyalty to a mere human, until Silver and Lilia Vanrouge return from an early morning stroll with baskets of acorns, flowers, and pine nuts for bracelet-making. Sebek and Silver both make theirs in earthy wooden tones and shimmering shades of rose and violet. Lilia sneaks in a few animal teeth and bone fragments. For good luck.
Malleus Draconia, tedious as it is, spends his Sunday morning spinning his own string, and lining it with beads, tiny in his hands, and small pieces of smooth glass and stone from Ramshackle. He gifts it to you with a blessing, a promise of your eternal friendship, in this world and the next.
By the end of the week, your arms are heavy with beads, shells, stone, nuts, flowers, and charms, covered from wrist to elbow. You can't move without sounding like a wind chime, jingling and clinking with each step.
Your friends eagerly await your praises, not-so-subtly asking which bracelet is your favorite, or, frankly, who is your best friend?
You promise an answer soon.
Thus, on Monday morning, you arrive with only one bracelet.
Sloppily made, in soft blues and grays, with the cut-out logo of a tuna can label stuck to your wrist, and a smiling Grim holding the hand beneath it.
What if yuu died?
(I'm feeling angsty >:]) ((I kept crying while writing this))
DWARF'S MINE:
Grim
Grim is the first one to notice.
They were bickering, as usual. Yuu told him not to wander off. He called them bossy and sauntered ahead. He thought Yuu was right behind him until he heard the rumble.
When Grim turns around, the mine is collapsing. He hears a scream—their scream—and then nothing.
At first, Grim is in denial. “They’re probably fine! Just hiding like a scaredy-cat!” he yells, ears flat, tail bristled. He digs at the rocks, paws trembling, not because he’s weak but because he’s scared. His tiny claws scrape until they bleed.
Later, when the truth settles in, Grim doesn’t talk for days. No bragging. No yelling. He just curls up on the couch in Ramshackle, staring at the door like he’s waiting for Yuu to walk through it.
He starts blaming himself. Quietly. “I shoulda protected them… I’m the Great Grim, right? What good is all this power if I couldn’t save 'em…”
Ace Trappola
Ace puts up a wall.
He makes some stupid comment at first. “They seriously died that easily? Weak…”
But his voice cracks halfway through. He avoids eye contact with Deuce and walks away before anyone can see him clench his fists.
Later, Ace returns to the mine alone. He just stands at the spot where the rocks fell, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Dumbass… you weren’t even supposed to be here. What were you thinking, coming down here without magic?”
If anyone tries to talk to him about it, he brushes them off. But sometimes, when no one's looking, he stares at Ramshackle’s gate like he wants to go up and say something—but always turns around.
Deuce Spade
Deuce takes it hard.
He was right there. He thought he was being responsible. He was supposed to look out for the magicless student, right?
“I failed them…” “I should’ve noticed something was wrong…” “If I’d just reacted faster…”
He says things like that a lot. Grim won’t talk. Ace won’t listen. So Deuce just keeps repeating it to himself.
He visits Ramshackle and helps clean it up. Makes sure the firewood is stacked, the beds are neat—even though no one lives there anymore. “I just… want to keep it ready. In case they come back. Somehow.”
Crowley
Crowley is... complicated.
Publicly, he spins it as a “tragic accident”—“A rare, unfortunate incident during a school-sanctioned task! We shall honor our lost guest!” He uses big words and flashy speeches, and pretends like this wasn’t his fault.
But when he’s alone in his office, he looks at the file with Yuu’s name and wonders if he ever even really tried to help them.
He sent a magicless teen to mine with unstable students and monsters.
He knew they were different. Vulnerable. And yet, he brushed it off.
There’s a note he writes but never sends, addressed to the mirror that summoned Yuu:
“This realm took what it never should have touched. And now it has blood on its hands.”
He keeps the key to Ramshackle on his desk. Every time he sees it, he flinches.
RIDDLE'S OVERBLOT
Grim
He saw it happen.
He was right there—he saw the blast coming, and he tried to drag Yuu back, but they slipped from his grip.
“Yuu?” he calls out, paw nudging at their arm. “Hey. Hey, c’mon, this ain’t funny. Get up.”
He tries to laugh it off at first. Grim doesn’t do death. He doesn’t understand it. Not really.
But when the healers come and shake their heads, when no one responds, something inside Grim shatters.
His magic starts reacting wildly. He growls and sparks with unstable fire, yelling at Riddle’s unconscious body like it’s his fault. “You ruined everything! They’re gone and it’s because of YOU!”
Afterward, he won’t eat. Won’t talk. He curls up in Yuu’s bed with their uniform jacket tucked under his chin, tail limp.
“They promised we’d figure stuff out together... Now I gotta do it alone?”
Ace Trappola
Ace flips out.
Not right away. First, it’s disbelief. “No, no, they’re gonna get up. Right? Deuce? Tell me they’re fine.”
Then, it’s anger. At Riddle. At Cater and Trey for not stopping it. At himself.
He slams his fist into a wall so hard his knuckles bleed. “I should’ve pulled them out. I saw the signs. I knew something was gonna happen.”
He gets snappy. Bitter. Starts arguments with anyone who tries to sugarcoat it. “They didn’t ‘pass peacefully.’ They got caught up in some overblot crap that wasn’t even their fault!”
He avoids Ramshackle. Too many memories. Too much guilt.
But he keeps Yuu’s student ID in his jacket pocket.
Deuce Spade
Deuce cries.
He tries to hold it in, tries to be strong—because that’s what he thinks Yuu would’ve wanted—but the tears come anyway. He sobs into his hands when no one’s looking, shaking with the weight of regret.
“I promised to protect them…” he whispers.
He keeps up their dorm. Keeps bringing food to Grim, even if the little guy won’t touch it. He visits Crowley’s office demanding answers, demanding justice, yelling that this shouldn’t have happened.
Deuce becomes the one who remembers the little things—how Yuu liked their tea, the dumb jokes they told, the way they always said "I've got your back" even without magic.
And he makes sure everyone else remembers too.
Riddle Rosehearts
When he wakes up from the overblot and hears the news, he goes silent.
He doesn't cry. Doesn’t scream. He just… shuts down.
He asks to see the body. Crowley says no.
So Riddle walks to the rose maze himself, stands in the spot where Yuu fell, and just stares at the blood-stained petals.
“I didn’t mean to…”
He says it to no one. Over and over. A mantra. A curse.
He writes an apology note but tears it up. Who would it even go to?
Trey and Cater notice the shift—Riddle becomes harsher on himself. More rigid. Less confident. Because deep down, he knows:
Someone died because he lost control.
Cater Diamond
Cater’s smile doesn’t slip right away.
He’s used to filtering his emotions. Used to staying “on brand,” even when he’s horrified. So when he sees Yuu’s lifeless form after the magic storm clears, he just… freezes.
“H-Haha… no way, right? This has to be a prank. Right, Riddle?”
No one answers. Grim is howling. Ace is screaming. Deuce is crying.
Cater’s hands start to shake.
Later, he’ll post nothing. Not even a filtered picture. He'll ghost Magicam for a while.
He tries to visit Ramshackle once, to drop off a bouquet of marigolds and forget-me-nots—but the door creaks open and he sees Grim curled up on the couch, and he just can’t do it.
“I didn’t even know them,” he murmurs to himself, “and it still hurts this bad… What about the ones who did?”
Trey Clover
Trey stays composed. He always does.
He takes over when everyone else is falling apart—helping stabilize the overblot aftermath, escorting Riddle away from the scene, offering Deuce a tissue, shielding Cater from seeing too much.
But when he's alone in the kitchen later, making a tart for no one, he lets himself break a little.
His knife pauses mid-slice. A cherry slips and stains the counter red.
“I should’ve noticed Riddle was this close to snapping,” he mutters. “If I’d stopped him sooner…”
Trey doesn't cry. But guilt clings to him like powdered sugar on a fresh cake. Yuu wasn’t his responsibility, but they were in his dorm's garden. Under his vice-leadership. And that’s not something he forgets easily.
He leaves a note at Ramshackle with a box of treats:
“For Grim. I know they liked sweet things. —Trey”
Dire Crowley
Crowley is the one who has to “make it official.”
He stands before the gathered first years, his usual flourish gone. There’s no fanfare, no dramatic cloak-swoosh. Just a stiff, solemn tone.
“It is with deepest regret that I must confirm… the Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm has passed, following the incident involving an overblot.”
He doesn’t look anyone in the eye.
When the students leave, he stays behind in the hall, staring at the cracked mirror that once brought Yuu here.
“They were never supposed to be involved in magic,” he mutters. “I was supposed to protect them…”
He writes a formal report. Then another one. Then a third. None of them feel right.
Later, Crowley visits Ramshackle and sets down a key with a tiny raven charm beside their bed.
“I promised you safety. I failed. May this place remember you better than I did.”
LEONA'S OVERBLOT
It’s live. NRC's Spelldrive match is being broadcast across Twisted Wonderland.
Leona’s magic erupts like a sandstorm hurricane—spikes of sand and flame. Yuu is running, dragging an injured Grim, trying to reach Jack.
Then comes the roar.
Then silence.
The sand settles. A figure lies limp in the wreckage.
There’s a gasp on the feed. The camera zooms in— —and the world watches as the magicless Prefect, the one who stood beside overblots and chaos, lies still on the battlefield.
Grim
Grim doesn’t even process what happens at first.
He sees the sandstorm. The explosion of magic. He hears Yuu scream—and then nothing. Just silence.
He claws at their body. “Get up! Hey! I said get UP!”
He tries to use his magic. Tries to warm them up with a fireball. Nothing works.
He sobs until his voice is hoarse. He doesn’t leave their side—not when the teachers show up, not when the sun sets, not even when Crowley tries to move him.
“You said we were gonna leave this place together, remember? You promised…”
After that, he never says their name again. But he whispers it in his sleep, tail curled around their favorite pillow.
Ace Trappola
Ace punches Leona.
No questions, no hesitation—he hauls off and decks him right across the jaw, shouting “You bastard! You KILLED them!”
It doesn’t matter that Leona’s still recovering from the overblot. It doesn’t matter that he gets dragged off. He’s shaking with rage.
Ace’s grief comes out as fire. Loud. Angry. Messy.
Later, he sneaks into Ramshackle alone. He rifles through Yuu’s drawers, looking for something—a hoodie, a note, an old snack wrapper. Anything that still smells like them.
He finds a photo they all took before the Spelldrive match.
He keeps it in his wallet.
Deuce Spade
Deuce kneels beside Yuu’s body and doesn’t move for a long time.
He holds their hand. It’s still warm. He begs the healers to try again. Begs the staff to do something.
“They can’t be gone… Not them. Not Yuu…”
He starts blaming himself. “If I’d been faster. If I’d trained harder. If I’d just been stronger—”
He throws himself into becoming stronger after that. Pushing past his limits. Studying harder. Training until he drops.
But he never stops wearing the little Ramshackle pin Yuu made for him, safety-pinned to the inside of his collar.
Cater Diamond
Cater completely drops the act.
No more filters. No cute captions. No jokes.
He vanishes from Magicam for a full month. When he comes back, it’s quiet. Just a black square and one line:
“Miss u, bestie.”
He tries to keep smiling around others, especially Grim, but it’s clearly forced. His voice cracks sometimes.
“I never even said goodbye… How could I not say goodbye?!”
Cater leaves a bracelet at the edge of the Savanaclaw field where they fell—green and silver beads, their initials on it.
He comes back every week to make sure it's still there.
Trey Clover
Trey becomes the one who takes care of everyone else.
He comforts Grim. Checks on Deuce. Calms Ace. Brings food even when no one eats.
He tries to be steady, reliable—but even he has his moments.
Sometimes, late at night in the kitchen, when he’s baking and the scent of vanilla fills the room, he sees Yuu laughing by the counter and has to sit down before he breaks.
He brings a box of strawberry tarts to Ramshackle and places it on their bed, whispering, “You always liked these… right?”
Riddle Rosehearts
Riddle is devastated.
He stares at their body with wide, horrified eyes. His throat closes. He stammers something—rules, overblot laws, consequences—but the words fall flat.
He visits their grave alone. He brings roses, red and white.
“I should have stopped Leona. I knew something was wrong. I should have said something. Done something…”
He reads old messages Yuu sent him. Keeps rereading them, like they'll change.
When Heartslabyul hosts a tea party in their memory, Riddle personally makes sure it’s perfect.
“They deserve nothing less.”
Jack Howl
Jack grits his teeth.
He says nothing at first. Just watches in silence as the healers pronounce Yuu gone.
But later, he trains. Harder than ever. His knuckles split. His legs ache.
“If I’d been there a second earlier… I could’ve shielded them.”
He doesn’t cry, but he starts carrying himself a little more respectfully. For Yuu.
At Ramshackle, he leaves a desert lily by their bed—a flower that survives in harshness. “You were tough. I’ll honor that.”
Dire Crowley
Crowley looks… older afterward.
He gives a dramatic speech at the memorial. Everyone assumes he’s playing it up again—until he chokes up mid-sentence.
“This school was supposed to keep them safe…”
He writes a letter to the Headmage’s council, arguing that overblots are no longer “rare accidents,” but institutional failures.
He also writes one to Yuu.
It sits in his drawer, never sent.
“You deserved better. From this world. From me. I only hope the next life is kinder.”
Leona Kingscholar
Leona doesn’t say a word when he’s told Yuu didn’t survive.
He just stares. At the scorch mark in the dirt. At the faces of the others—Grim sobbing, Deuce shaking, Ace screaming at him. He says nothing.
He turns away.
No apology. No excuse. He doesn't even try to defend himself.
Later, alone in his dorm, he leans against the wall with a clenched jaw, grinding his molars. His overblot haze is gone, but the image of Yuu—burned into his memory—won’t leave.
“Tch... They were a nobody. Just some magicless brat...”
But he’s not saying it to anyone else. He’s trying to convince himself. Because deep down, he knows that’s not true. Yuu stood their ground. Faced him when even Savanaclaw students ran. And they died because of him.
The next day, Leona doesn’t come out of his room.
The week after that, he’s quieter. Less sharp-tongued. Still dangerous, still smug—but there’s a heaviness in his voice now.
He doesn’t go to the memorial. But he sends a small wrapped parcel to Ramshackle with Ruggie.
Inside: a faded Savanaclaw armband and a simple note.
They had guts. —L
Ruggie Bucchi
Ruggie wasn’t close to Yuu, but they helped him once.
Shared a snack. Laughed at his dumb jokes. Treated him like a person, not Leona’s errand boy.
So when he sees their body, something shifts.
“…They’re really gone?”
He doesn’t cry. He’s too used to loss for that. But his stomach churns as he watches Grim howl and Ace get dragged away from Leona.
Ruggie knew this was gonna happen eventually. He just didn’t think it’d be Yuu.
He feels the tension in the dorm, hears the whispers from other students, and suddenly everything feels too loud.
That night, he lights a candle in the Savanaclaw lounge. It’s small, cheap, something from the Night Market.
He stares at the flame and murmurs, “Rest easy, alright? Sorry we never got to hang out more…”
Then he turns and gets back to work, because someone has to clean up the mess.
But he steals food from the cafeteria a little more often now.
For Grim.
AZUL'S OVERBLOT
Grim
He can’t even scream this time.
He runs to their body, but the water’s still seeping away. He tries to drag them out. Shouts for help.
He sobs into their clothes, claws clenched around fabric, whispering over and over, “No no no—come on, come on—don’t do this, please—”
He tries breathing fire, again and again, like maybe the warmth will bring them back.
Azul’s contracts burn around them. Grim doesn’t care. He curls around their chest and doesn’t move for hours.
Ace Trappola
Ace laughs.
It’s a broken sound, too sharp to be real.
“No way. No way they’re— They can’t be— This is stupid. They survived Leona. They survived Riddle. They’re Yuu.”
He looks at Azul like he wants to kill him, but then just… stops. He walks over to Yuu’s body and sits down beside them, knees to his chest, silent.
Hours later, he mutters to no one, “I didn’t even get to say sorry… I called them annoying this morning…”
Deuce Spade
Deuce falls to his knees.
He shakes Azul by the collar, shouting “WHAT DID YOU DO?!” before Jack pulls him back.
Then he kneels by Yuu and clutches their hand like it’s an anchor. He doesn’t move for a long time, even when everyone else starts to leave.
He wears their Ramshackle pin on his blazer after that. Cleans it every morning.
When he does tests, exams, in a track race, he whispers under his breath, “Watch me. I’ll make you proud.”
Jack Howl
Jack stands frozen in place.
His tail bristles. His claws dig into his palms. But he doesn’t lash out. He doesn’t cry.
He walks over and picks up the tattered scarf Yuu always wore, brushes the ink off it gently.
“They were a good one,” he says quietly.
He trains harder after that. Says less. But anyone who enters the Savannaclaw training field will find a small stone marker in the far corner.
“To the one who stood tall without claws.”
Ruggie Bucchi
Ruggie curses.
“Damn it. Damn it all.”
He kicks one of the broken tables. Then another. And then he stops—because he sees Grim, curled and shaking, and his chest aches.
He drops to a squat beside him, puts a hand on Grim’s back.
“They were… They were somethin’ else, huh?”
He steals food from the Lounge that night. Loads of it. Drops it off at Ramshackle with no note.
He doesn’t say it out loud, but he swears to himself: No one else from their circle dies on his watch.
Leona Kingscholar
Leona’s the first to arrive after the overblot ends.
He sees the ink, the body, the shattered remains of the contracts—and doesn’t speak. Not at first.
“…You actually went and got them killed, huh?” he mutters to Azul.
Leona walks over to Yuu and crouches low. His tail flicks.
“Should’ve told you not to play hero again. Should’ve made you stay out of this.”
He leaves a desert lily by their side and walks away before anyone sees his hands shaking.
Azul Ashengrotto
Azul is catatonic.
He collapses when the overblot fades. The moment he sees what he’s done—who he’s killed—his voice dies in his throat.
“No… No, no, no… I didn’t mean…”
He vomits ink.
He sobs behind his hands.
He screams at the sea for days afterward.
He locks himself in his office and doesn't come out. Not for weeks. He can’t even look at his own reflection.
Eventually, he stops using contracts.
He burns every single one.
Jade Leech
Jade is… quiet.
Too quiet.
He kneels beside the body and closes their eyes. Straightens their sleeves. Brushes the ink from their lashes.
Then he looks at Azul—torn, sobbing—and doesn’t speak.
He doesn’t smile after that. Not in the Lounge. Not in class.
When asked, he only says: “They were… sincere. And brave. It's a shame. A true shame.”
He visits Ramshackle every now and then, leaving wild mushrooms at the doorstep.
Floyd Leech
Floyd doesn’t take it well.
First, he laughs.
“Eh? Seriously? Shrimpy’s dead? Just like that?”
Then his smile vanishes. Completely.
“...No fun.”
He walks into the Lounge’s VIP room and trashes it. Rips through furniture. Breaks the glass. Shatters the chandelier.
No one stops him.
After that, he won’t talk about it. If someone mentions Yuu, he gets quiet.
He goes out swimming in the ocean for hours. Sometimes all night.
When he comes back, he’s always more tired.
Dire Crowley
Crowley stands at the edge of the scene, looking like a ghost.
This is the third time now. Third overblot. Third time Yuu has nearly died. Except this time…
He pulls his hat down, voice tight. “I failed them. Again.”
He doesn’t perform this time. No grand speeches. Just silence and shame.
He drafts a dozen letters to Yuu’s family—then throws them all out. What could he say? "Your child died in another world under my care?"
He declares a school-wide mourning period and cancels all contracts indefinitely.
But it’s not enough. Nothing is.
JAMIL'S OVERBLOT
They were too close. Always too close.
In trying to protect Kalim, in trying to talk Jamil down, they stepped into range—and one of the snake-like braids struck. Fast. Precise. Poisonous.
No one noticed the bite at first. Not even Yuu.
But as the overblot fades, and the sand settles, they collapse—pale, lips turning blue, their breathing labored until…
It stops.
And the music dies with them.
Grim
He’s the first to notice something’s wrong.
He shakes Yuu’s arm, pats their cheek. “Oi, this isn’t funny—come on, we’ve gotta scold Jamil, right?”
But their chest doesn’t rise.
Grim screams. His voice cracks.
“YUU?!”
He doesn’t leave their side for the rest of the night, paws clutching their arm, growling at anyone who tries to move them.
When Ace and Deuce return, he nearly attacks them just to stop them from seeing.
Jamil Viper
He sees the bite. He knows exactly what it means.
He knows.
He drops to his knees.
“...No… no no no…”
His voice shakes. His hands tremble. His overblot form may have faded, but its consequences linger like venom in his blood.
He killed them.
No tricks. No schemes. No brainwashing. Just murder.
He doesn’t run. He doesn’t speak. He just sits in the sand, staring at his hands, unable to move.
He’s silent for hours.
When they drag him away, he doesn’t resist.
Kalim Al-Asim
He doesn’t understand at first.
“Yuu? What are they doing? They’re just sleeping, right? Right, Jamil?!"
But Jamil won’t meet his eyes.
And when Grim doesn’t answer—when Grim starts sobbing—Kalim’s smile falls. Shatters.
“No… no, no, this isn’t…”
He grabs Yuu’s hand and holds it like he can warm it back to life.
“Please—wake up—we haven’t even gone swimming yet! You promised!”
He cries hard. For hours. He tries to take the blame, keeps saying:
“It should’ve been me. I was the one he hated…”
Azul Ashengrotto
When Azul sees the body, he goes eerily quiet.
He slams the lounge door shut, tells Jade and Floyd to cancel operations for a week. When they ask why, he just mutters:
“Yuu’s dead. Jamil’s overblot.”
That night, Azul goes down to the sea and throws in a silver pen—a token Yuu once gave him when he helped them with a contract.
He doesn’t talk about it afterward.
But he never lets a client leave with a dangerous deal again.
Jade Leech
Jade lowers his when he sees the body.
“…How unfortunate.”
He’s quiet for a long while. He plants a rare desert flower in a terrarium—a tribute. Waters it every morning.
When questioned, he only says, “They were brave. It is a shame bravery rarely guarantees survival.”
But his smiles are smaller now. More thoughtful. Especially around Jamil.
Floyd Leech
He gets quiet.
Too quiet.
He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t grin. Just tosses a beach ball into the ocean and watches it float away.
When asked, he mutters, “Shrimpy was s’posed to come back. I was gonna show ‘em how to really swim…”
And then, with no warning, he grabs Jamil by the collar and slams him into a wall.
“You bit them, didn’t you?”
He doesn’t hit him. Just glares, then shoves him down and walks away.
He doesn’t show up to class for three days after that.
Crowley
He returns in high spirits, sunburned and humming—until he sees the school’s flag at half-mast.
“What happened—?”
Grim hits him with a fireball before he can finish his sentence.
When Crowley sees Yuu’s name etched into the memorial stone, he drops to his knees.
He doesn’t even try to justify himself.
He just whispers, “I left. Again. And they paid for it…”
And for once, Crowley vanishes from public view.
Not even the staff can find him for days.
Ace Trappola
He bursts through the gate, duffel in hand, bragging to Deuce—until Grim tackles him, claws shaking.
“They’re gone,” Grim wheezes, “They’re gone, Ace!”
Ace laughs. “Huh? Quit messin’ with me—what do you—”
Then he sees Deuce’s face pale. And the memorial stone. And the empty Ramshackle doorway.
“…No. No, no—this is a joke, right?!”
He punches the wall until his knuckles bleed.
Deuce Spade
He drops his bag the moment Grim tells them.
“No way… No—they were fine. They were fine when we left—”
He clutches his stomach and falls to his knees. “Why weren’t we here? Why didn’t we come back sooner?!”
He visits the grave every morning for a week. Leaves flowers. Doesn’t say much in class.
His grades improve. His magic sharpens.
He swears it won’t happen again.
Riddle Rosehearts
He stares at the nameplate on the stone.
“…They died protecting someone else?”
He places a red rose beneath the inscription.
“They never followed the rules… and still had the nerve to leave before I could thank them.”
His voice is brittle.
After that, he disciplines his dorm a little less harshly.
He gives Grim his leftover tarts in silence.
Trey Clover
He sighs deeply, brows furrowed.
“…I should’ve known something like this would happen.”
He helps Cater plan a quiet tribute in Heartslabyul. A tea party with Yuu’s favorite sweets. No rules. No scolding.
Just stories.
Trey keeps their seat open.
Cater Diamond
He cries in the hallway.
No selfies. No filters. No pretending.
Just raw, ugly crying.
“Why didn’t I get more pictures with them…?”
He organizes a social feed in their memory. Posts their art. Their dumb selfies. Their best moments.
It goes viral within NRC. Students from all dorms comment:
“They helped me.” “They stood up for me.” “I miss them…”
Leona Kingscholar
“…Damn snake.”
He growls low, tail twitching.
He doesn’t yell. Doesn’t threaten. Just walks out of the dorm and stares at the cliffs until sunset.
He was starting to respect them.
Now he never gets the chance.
Ruggie Bucchi
He’s pissed.
At Crowley. At Jamil. At himself.
He sneaks into the infirmary late at night and punches the wall once—just once.
Then he wipes his eyes and leaves, like nothing happened.
But he leaves offerings at the stone every week. Small things.
Bread. Buttons. A lucky toothpick.
Jack Howl
He stands before the memorial with flowers in hand and says nothing.
Not a word.
But he starts training harder.
When he duels, he whispers: “Hope you’re watching.”
VIL'S OVERBLOT
The air is thick with smoke and glamour. Vil's overblot form collapses, and the world finally breathes.
Everyone thinks it's over.
Until Yuu sways.
Until their lips tremble with blue.
Until they fall with no warning.
Grim reaches them first, and then all hell breaks loose.
Grim
He’s laughing at first. “We did it, right?! Right, Hench—?”
He sees the foam on their lips.
“No.”
He shakes them. “No—NO! Don’t you dare pull this crap—wake up! You said we were gonna get celebratory tuna!”
He shrieks when they stop breathing. He claws at his own face, trembling so hard he can barely speak.
When someone touches him, he bites them.
“DON’T—touch them—don’t take them away!!”
Ace Trappola
He rushes to Yuu’s side, shouting their name. Shaking them like that’ll undo it.
He looks to Deuce. Then to Grim. Then to Vil.
“WHO DID THIS?!”
He’s crying—actually crying—and it’s not cute. It’s ugly. Angry. Messy.
“I should’ve noticed—I should’ve—why didn’t I—?!”
He tries to do CPR. Tries to cast a healing spell. Anything.
None of it works.
Deuce Spade
He goes quiet. Stone-faced.
He tries to carry Yuu’s body like they’re still breathing, like maybe warmth and motion will bring them back.
His voice is hoarse: “I’ll take them to the infirmary. I can fix this. I can fix this.”
He doesn't stop walking until someone physically pulls him back.
When he finally lets go, he drops to his knees and sobs into his hands.
Jamil Viper
When he sees the foaming poison, the slow purple hue crawling over Yuu’s veins…
He knows.
“…Vil used poison,” he mutters, numb. “And they were too close.”
He staggers back, staring at his hands like he’s watching it happen all over again.
“Not again,” he whispers. “Not again.”
He turns and walks away. Doesn’t look back.
This time, he cries alone.
Kalim Al-Asim
“Yuu…?”
He kneels beside them. Touches their cheek.
“Yuu? Come on, wake up—it’s over, we won! You said you’d teach me how to bake that cake, remember?”
He keeps babbling. Keeps smiling. Even as tears start to fall.
Even when they don’t wake up.
“…They were always smiling,” he whispers. “Even when things were scary…”
Epel Felmier
He starts shaking.
He was right beside them. Right beside them.
And he didn’t notice.
“They were fine—they were still standing—they were smiling—”
He screams into his hands. Then punches the ground until his knuckles bleed.
Vil tries to stop him.
Epel shouts, “DON’T!”
And turns away, teeth bared in grief.
Rook Hunt
The first thing he says is quiet. Reverent.
“…They died beautifully.”
Everyone stares.
Then he kneels down and closes Yuu’s eyes gently.
“They were a soul full of light. To burn out in such a theatrical, bittersweet way… it’s almost poetic.”
His voice breaks.
He looks at Vil.
“Mon Roi. What have you done?”
Vil Schoenheit
He knew.
He knew what was in the poison. How fast it worked. How potent it was.
And still—still—he let it happen.
When Yuu collapses, his voice fails. He runs to them, brushes their hair back.
He presses his forehead to theirs.
“…You idiot,” he chokes. “Why didn’t you move? You should have stayed behind the curtain!”
He doesn’t say much after that.
But he cancels his return to the stage.
Forever.
Crowley
He returns to a somber, shattered NRC.
When he hears what happened, he doesn’t speak.
Doesn’t excuse himself.
He walks into Ramshackle dorm, sits in the dark, and whispers:
“I keep failing you.”
He shuts the dorm down for a week.
He leaves a golden brooch on Yuu’s old pillow.
Trey, Cater, Riddle, Leona, Ruggie, Jack
Trey makes a cake and leaves it at Ramshackle. Says nothing.
Cater posts one last selfie with Yuu and doesn’t log into Magicam again for a month.
Riddle reprimands Vil for days—then visits the grave in silence.
Leona grits his teeth, then throws a spell book across his room. Doesn’t talk about it.
Ruggie mutters, “Figures someone like him would mess it up,” then wipes his eyes.
Jack makes a point to place wildflowers near their grave every few days.
Jade whispers, “They died protecting others. Admirable… but costly.”
Floyd just says, “Shrimpy’s really gone, huh…” and doesn’t smile for a week.
Azul throws himself into managing the lounge, late at night he stares at a framed picture of him and Yuu and cries.
Hornton
He’s fixing the stage with his magic. Alone. Quiet. Restoring the ruins left behind after Vil’s rampage.
Then he sees it—Yuu’s name on the memorial plaque. A candle burning low.
He stares.
His magic falters.
“…No.”
His voice shakes.
“...No.”
He vanishes from the stage.
Later, students find the ruins of a blasted tree behind Ramshackle.
And Malleus is there. Silent. Still. Staring at Yuu’s favorite bench—the one they sat on during night talks.
He places a glowing crystal beside it. It hums softly. Mourning.
“No one else sat with me in the dark,” he whispers. “No one else called me ‘Hornton.’”
IDIA'S OVERBLOT
Grim
He's inconsolable.
Screaming. Thrashing. Clinging to Yuu's unmoving form. There's soot on his fur and tear tracks down his face.
“They were just—they were just joking about food! We were gonna go home, we were—they PROMISED!!”
He tries to breathe fire in grief, but it sputters out into smoke. He curls into their chest and won’t let go.
Ace Trappola
“No.”
He walks up. Stares. Backs away.
“No. No—no, this isn’t—that’s not funny, Yuu. Get up.”
He turns to Deuce. His voice is cracking.
“They’re gonna sit up. They’re just messing with us, right?”
But no one laughs.
He kneels down and covers his face with both hands.
Deuce Spade
His entire body locks up.
“I should’ve—gone in with them. I should’ve…”
His fists clench so tightly they bleed.
He kneels beside Grim and takes one of Yuu’s hands in his. Quiet.
“Thank you… for everything.”
Jack Howl
He has no words. Only a silent, thunderous grief.
He lowers his head respectfully. Closes Yuu’s eyes with trembling fingers.
He doesn't cry. But his voice is hoarse for days.
Later, he trains until he collapses. Trying to make sure no one else dies again.
Ruggie Bucchi
“…Sh*t.”
That’s all he says at first. He turns away.
Wipes his eyes before anyone sees.
But he leaves a meat pie at their grave later. Wrapped in a checkered cloth. No note. No message.
Just something Yuu said they always wanted to try.
Leona Kingscholar
He scowls. Says they were reckless. That it was bound to happen.
But the minute no one’s watching, he storms off into the desert garden and roars so loud it shakes the windows.
When he comes back, he’s dragging an ancient herb said to revive the dead.
It doesn’t work.
Trey Clover
He finds Grim later in Ramshackle.
And quietly makes enough food for two, even though only Grim eats.
No one sees him cry.
But he starts baking a certain kind of cake more often—one that only Yuu ever asked for.
Cater Diamond
He doesn’t post anything on Magicam for three months.
He tries to smile. He jokes. But his heart’s not in it.
He visits Ramshackle every week and leaves flowers—sunflowers, yellow and bright.
“You always made things feel warm, y’know?” he whispers.
Riddle Rosehearts
He keeps it together at first.
But when he’s alone? He breaks.
He slams his fists into the desk. Screams into the void.
“They didn’t have magic! They shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have had to go alone!”
He writes a law in Yuu’s honor: “No student shall face a magical threat without backup.”
Azul Ashengrotto
Azul’s hands shake when he sees Yuu’s body.
“They gave me a second chance,” he whispers.
“And I couldn’t even…”
He shuts down the Lounge for a week.
He orders every contract reviewed. Removes every dangerous clause Yuu once called out.
He leaves an ornate seashell at their grave. Etched with: “For the one who believed in me.”
Jade Leech
“…A tragedy.”
His tone is calm. But his eyes are not.
He takes off his gloves and places them over Yuu’s hands, folding them gently.
“I suppose I must find a new mushroom for mourning,” he murmurs.
He visits often. Leaves nothing but silence and prayers.
Floyd Leech
At first? Nothing.
Just blank staring.
Then: “Shrimpy’s really gone, huh?”
He doesn’t cry.
But he drags Idia by the collar and nearly kills him.
“You owe them. FIX IT.”
It takes four people to pull him off.
He doesn't smile after that. Not for a long time.
Idia Shroud
At first, he thinks it’s a glitch.
Then he sees them—unmoving, burned at the edges, body limp in Grim’s arms.
He doesn’t scream.
He just stares. A long time. And says:
“…I killed them.”
He doesn't resist when Floyd attacks. He wants to be punished.
Later, he shuts himself inside the lab. Ignores Ortho. Refuses food.
All he says, over and over, is:
“I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this.”
Ortho Shroud
“No. No, no, no—please wake up! I can scan you—I can rebuild you, I can—”
His voice distorts.
“PLEASE DON’T LEAVE NII-SAN BEHIND!!”
When Yuu doesn’t stir, Ortho’s eyes dim.
He flies off.
And no one sees him for three days.
Crowley
He was there. Watching from the surface. Powerless to go down with them.
When Yuu doesn’t return, he collapses to his knees.
He says nothing.
But every night after, the gate to the Underworld glows dimly. Lit by a single enchanted candle.
Burning for the student who dared cross the River Styx.
MALLEUS'S OVERBLOT (may be inaccurate)
Grim
He holds your hand as you fade, clawing at the thorns like they'll move.
“Don’t go. You—you always saved everyone!! I was supposed to protect you—!!”
He’s wailing.
When it’s over, he curls into your chest and doesn’t speak for two days.
Ace Trappola
He’s the first to scream.
“WHAT’S THE POINT OF WAKING UP IF THEY’RE DEAD!?”
He runs at the thorns. Punches them until his fists bleed. Until Deuce pulls him back.
He curses Malleus. Then curses himself.
Then, eventually, just sits on the floor. Staring.
Deuce Spade
He kneels beside your body.
His voice cracks as he says:
“I became a better person because of you…”
Then, in a whisper:
“…I don’t know how to be good without you.”
Cater Diamond
“No… not them… anyone but them…”
He sobs. No filters. No jokes. No posing.
His Magicam goes dark again. He locks himself in his room and cries into their old photos.
Trey Clover
He can’t breathe when he sees you.
He covers his face. Kneels.
“I should’ve done more. Been there. Helped you—something.”
He leaves a tiny tart beside your grave, baked with your favorite flavor.
Riddle Rosehearts
His voice is a whisper. Unsteady.
“They were the only one who understood me... even after everything I did...”
He places a rose—red and thornless—on your chest.
And kneels, head bowed.
Leona Kingscholar
He stares down at you. Quiet.
“I told you not to play hero,” he murmurs.
He sounds tired. Angry. Hollow.
But he watches over your grave when no one else will.
Silent. Guarding. For hours at a time.
Ruggie Bucchi
"...Tch."
He turns his back. Walks away.
But hours later, someone finds a crumpled note by your bed.
"Thanks for feeding me."
Jack Howl
He stands still for a long time.
Then salutes you with quiet reverence.
“You had more heart than anyone I’ve ever met.”
He trains harder than ever after that. To live by your example.
Azul Ashengrotto
He drops to his knees.
“This wasn’t part of the deal…”
His voice breaks.
“I would've traded everything. Just—just to keep them safe…”
He cancels all contracts for a week. Shuts down the Lounge. Cries behind locked doors.
Jade Leech
He gently closes your eyes.
And, for once, doesn’t smile.
“Even rare orchids wither in the frost,” he says.
And places a white lily beside you.
Floyd Leech
“…Shrimpy…”
He pokes your cheek.
No response.
Then he howls. He tears up a hallway. Slams a wall with a fist that cracks stone.
He doesn’t laugh again for a month.
Kalim Al-Asim
“No no no—you were supposed to live!! You saved me!! Why didn’t I save you!?”
He sobs into Jamil’s shoulder.
He lights candles in your memory every night.
Jamil Viper
He closes his eyes.
He doesn't speak. Just mutters a single word:
“Unfair.”
But later, he visits your resting place, presses a charm into the soil.
“I owed you more than I gave.”
Vil Schoenheit
He holds you like glass. Like something sacred.
“Your final act was... selfless. Poetic. Tragic.”
He speaks at your memorial.
And always leaves a pristine white rose.
Epel Felmier
His shoulders shake.
He refuses to speak at the ceremony. But he carves a tiny wooden charm for you.
He carries it in his pocket. Always.
Rook Hunt
Tears fall freely.
“Ah, mon trésor… such beauty, such sacrifice…”
He writes a ballad in your honor. He performs it in the forest, alone.
Idia Shroud
He stares at you with wide eyes. Whispering to himself.
“No. No. Not again. Not another one. Not like Ortho—!”
He curls into himself.
And when he reboots Ortho later, he hugs him like he’ll disappear too.
Ortho Shroud
He powers down for a full day.
And when he reactivates, he asks:
“Why didn’t I detect the danger? Why couldn’t I save them?”
He makes a digital backup of your voice. It plays when he’s alone.
Lilia Vanrouge
He lowers his head and whispers in old fae tongue.
“They were brave.”
He sings an ancient lullaby only fae children know.
And your grave is tended by wild roses from then on.
Silver
He brushes your hair back.
“I thought we’d all wake up…”
He places a dream charm on your chest.
“So you’d never be afraid. Not even now.”
Sebek Zigvolt
He yells.
First at Malleus. Then at the world. Then at himself.
“They protected you, my lord! And now they’re GONE!”
His voice breaks.
He kneels beside your grave.
“They were… a knight.”
Malleus Draconia
When he sees you fall, his world ends.
The thorns fade. The dreams collapse.
You lay still in his arms.
His voice is a whisper. A plead.
“No. No no no. This isn't what I wanted…”
He doesn’t overblot again.
He just… disappears.
Some say he wandered into the thorns. Others say he turned into mist.
But on quiet nights, a low voice murmurs:
“I wanted eternity with you.”
Crowley
For once… he takes responsibility.
He wears all black.
He lays a feathered mask at your grave.
And whispers:
“You were the one good thing I never deserved.”
Dorm leaders react to finding reader/yuu crying and overhear them say "I want to go home"?
A/N: Ah. Angst. My specialty lol. I am assuming you want imagine format? Hope so because that's what I am going with. Thank you for the request :)
Note: Idia's is so long. I went so overboard omg. I am sorry. I just think that he's neat.
Riddle Rosehearts
Riddle has seen many people cry, and unfortunately been the instigator for no small number of occurrences. Prior to turning over a new leaf, he was heinously blunt with his criticisms. Everyone knows this.
At the time he thought those people to be sensitive and naïve to the cruel ways of the world. They needed to toughen up!
That opinion lies in the past now. He was a prick. Riddle won't verbally acknowledge it but he knows. There is no need to bring it up because he is trying to change his ways
Key word: trying
You can't uproot years of bad habits and trauma overnight. He has his moments. From freaking out over students not studying, dress coding half the school, lecturing his friends on their diet....nothing too harsh, and no permanent harm done.
"This is not your world MC; 70% is unacceptable for a prefect to score on an exam. Slacking will not be tolerated! What kind of example are you setting for the other students?! Your grades reflect on the school!"
Perhaps he could have taken a moment to think and not let his emotions overcome him. Riddle knew how hard you studied; after all, you came to him for help many times. Each occasion he happily obliged and saw you progress using his study guides
It is why he wanted you to succeed. To show up with a perfect 100 that would be celebrated over sweets
Instead you arrived apprehensive and hiding your test behind your back. Already fragile and he-...goodness.
He sent you off running
Likely to go cower in the library and beat yourself up for disappointing him. Just like he used to do. Great Sevens he is an asshole. Ace is definetly going to rip him to shreds or at least throw his tea collection into the pond
After a brief rest to wash his face in the restroom, Riddle goes to the library and his heart shatters at the sound of sniffles from behind a particularly large stack of books.
"I can't do this anymore...this is too hard...he's right...he's right...he's right...I want to go home"
Sweat pools at his chin and his hands clench into tight, clammy fists. After hearing that, Riddle can't bring himself to interrupt and stands on the other side of the books, silent, and with his head down
He always felt regret and frustration after having an outburst - but all pale in comparison to the absolute shame and heartbreak hurting you has wrought
Leona Kingscholar
"Go home. It's past curfew"
And...no response. You are very lucky that Leona tolerates you, because ignoring him so flat-out would get you two nights in the slammer back where he comes from.
A goody-two-shoes like you never bends the rules, which is why Leona is curious to see you roaming the botanical garden so late. Not going to answer him? Now it's personal and he is your problem.
At first he opts to follow you around. Not for any particular reason, and merely because he wanted to find out if you stashed any secrets in the area
His patience runs thin as you walk up to every plaque and study each plant. You can't seriously be out here at this hour for a botany lesson, can you? Why not do this during the day
Each time you study a plant your mood seems to sour further. For absolutely no reason, at least from Leona's perspective. Not unless you have beef with the flora and fauna - which is impossible. Maybe. He really doesn't know what to expect from you anymore.
Eventually curiosity grows to concern. He's kept himself entertained, following you and leaving commentary once in a while. Yet he can't help but be creeped out with how you move around like a zombie.
With one plant left, he observes as you once again ignore him to examine it...only to let it go and sit on the floor in disappointment.
"So...You're out of plants, what now?"
He doesn't expect an answer after an entire night of nothing.
"I guess I'll go 'home'...wherever that is"
"Finally talking to me, huh? The hell is wrong with you? Do you think it's safe to be out here this late?,"
"Safe? It's just as safe right now as it is during the day"
A part of him screams to shut up and end the conversation there. It's not his buisness and he can just pretend this night never happened.
"What's that supposed to mean?" He can't help it.
"It means that nothing here is like home. Not the buildings, or the people, or the food, not even the plants. You know, where I come from roses grow on bushes not trees. And I don't have to worry about the broom I sweep the kitchen with suddenly taking flight! I want to go home where shit is normal"
Okay. You got him. He definetly wasn't prepared for that level of a stress dump.
What's worse is that he can't comfort you. He wants to. Truth be told, watching you wander through the garden listlessly upset him more than he is willing to admit. Yet he can't do anything, because that level of homesickness is something no one can understand.
"...NRC doesn't store every kind of plant in this garden. We can check other areas tomorrow"
Azul Ashengrotto
"Ah! At last, my food critique is here," Azul glows, clapping his hands when you walk into the room, "The Headmaster has given the Monstro Lounge a great opportunity to market our buisness at the upcoming cultural fair. Our stall's menu must be perfect!"
Azul ushers you inside with a hand on the small of your back and leads you to a prepared table. Truth be told, he could easily taste the new menu items himself or have one of the tweels do it on his behalf. So long as it tastes good, it will sell, right?
Wrong. In exchange for a vendor's slot and location that will actually yield profits - Azul had to make this contract worth the Headmaster's time.
In short, he promised something "never seen before," that would fit the festival's theme. Naturally, he did not do this without a plan. He had one made long before approaching Crowley with the idea.
You. You are the plan. Azul was going to theme his stall off of your world. Neat, right? All he needs is for you to monitor his project for accuracy, which he has already half-succeeded in doing by luring you here to taste test a new menu
"Jade! Bring out the first item," Sweat drips from the side of Azul's head, his inner anxiousness getting the better of him. Perhaps he should have told you instead of making it a surprise? He only had a few dish ideas to build off of from the rare times you spoke of your childhood. Sourcing similar ingredients without any idea of how things should taste was a task in itself. What if he butchers it? Would you hate him?
Jade sets the first dish on the table, and you visibly straighten up in surprise. You eye him in confusion, as if to say 'where the heck did you learn to make this? How?' and he softly smiles, "Go on. Take a bite,"
And you do. You lift a piece of the dish to your face and smell the aroma before taking a bite. A moment of silence passes, and Azul thinks he may have just killed two birds with one stone. Literally. Death to any chance he had with you or with the festival.
"It...it's not quite the same," you stare at the dish in thought, suddenly solemn, "yet still similar. Nostalgic, even. Thank you for making this for me. Truly, thank you"
A mixture of emotions fill him as he signals for Jade to prepare the next plate. Should he take that as a good response? He failed in recreating the dish perfectly, yet you appear content. Sitting there, slowly finishing the meal bit by bit and cherishing every bite.
"You’re welcome. If it suits your taste, we can add this to our permanent VIP menu," he hovers near your side before laying a gloved hand on your shoulder, "just for you"
You reach to lay your hand on top of his, "I'd like that. Sometimes I want to go home, but this? It helps,"
At that, Azul steels himself. Not only would this dish be added to his menu, but he will personally learn how to make anything you every mention from your home. He would make you talk more, and hopefully find a way to carve a place for you in Twisted Wonderland where you will never have to want for somewhere else.
Kalim Al' Asim
"Is that really necessary?"
Kalim pauses - well, to be fair, everything pauses with a flick of his wrist. Dust rags mid-air, sponges amidst cleaning dishes, the broom sweeping the floor, and so the books that were rearranging themselves in alphabetical order.
He hadn't expected you home for hours. Did Ruggie lie to him about you watching spelldrive practice?
Kalim rubs the back of his neck bashfully, and flicks his wrist for everything else to resume motion.
"Oh, prefect! You're home early. I wanted to help you fix up this dorm in return for everything you have done for me! Do you like it?"
A wet mop flies over your head, " I..uhm..yes? Yes, it's very sweet of you to offer but do we really need magic for this? I could have helped," and nearly drenches you in dirty mop water, earning a grimace of disgust.
Kalim chuckles, waving you off and out of the kitchen. He felt bad for sneaking in to your home while you were away, but he wanted o surprise you! Which...also did not happen, but you said he was sweet for it and that is exactly when he decided to stop listening.
A mantra of 'they think I'm sweet!' plays in his head as he sends more tools to clean the house as you both talk.
He makes a joke about how cleaning is easy with magic, and that you can call on him whenever you need help around the dorms. He will happily do it on your behalf
Which...may not have been the best thing to say to a magicless prefect that has been busting their ass trying to survive and be independent in a world where they do not fit in.
Just a little bit insensitive.
Miniscule enough for Kalim not to understand why you're suddenly frustrated with him.
His brow furrows when you plop on the couch an bury your face in your hands with a frustrated sigh.
"Ugh...you just- you don't get it. I swear, all you magic folk wouldn't last a day where I come from...ugh, I want to go home already"
You say the last bit under your breath but he still heard it. Kalim is aware that sometimes he does get ahead of himself, and that he has clearly overstepped a boundary. Normally he is not so hasty, but with you? All he wanted was to do something nice, and his mind was clouded.
He knows better than to flaunt what he has in front of other people. Not everyone has magic or the free will himself and many other students here are lucky enough to have. You've been working hard to be seen for your efforts, and that's something he admires greatly.
One by one the tools fly back to storage for safe keeping. All aside from the broom, which flies into Kalim's open hand. He steps in front of you, and holds the other out to help you up.
"Sorry, hehe. That was rude of me. I still want to help, so can we try again? Your way this time?"
Vil Schoenheit
"What is that thing?"
He had not intended to sound so repulsed. Disgusted? Yes. Just a tad, but there is a fine line.
You quirk an eyebrow at his comment, and follow his line of vision to the make-shift bracelet on your wrist. It was nothing fancy. Just your old shoe-laces put into an adjustable braid.
You tell him as such, and Vil cannot fathom what compelled you to make such an eyesore. He catches himself this time and doesn't voice it as bluntly
But my dear, it completely throws off your uniform. Goodness it's worse than Ruggie's oversized vest that he refuses to tailor.
"They're sentimental and from the sneakers I had on before someone put me in the ceremonial coffin. I still don't know who changed my clothes; and frankly? Don't want to, but at least they left my stuff in there,"
Okay, he understands. A piece from your past is hard to let go of but do you seriously need to wear it around campus? It completely throws off your charm.
Vil has always had a nasty habit of imposing his standards onto others, and so for the rest of the week you find him constantly eying your bracelet whenever he is nearby.
He merely wants to snip it with some scissors, he thinks, ever so tempted one evening when painting your nails.
You are his soon to be lover. Well, once you ask him to be so. Then he will turn you down and ask you himself because (1) he is not one who seeks, but is one who is sought after and (2) he must always have the upper hand despite this mindset
Anyway. You cannot walk around with those dirty laces on your wrist. He cannot accept it despite trying to on multiple occasions.
His compulsion overtakes reasoning, and as your nails are drying he "accidentally" cuts the thin cord holding the laces together with cuticle scissors
Needless to say that you are upset. Much more so than Vil ever could have predicted, and he watches in guilt as you try to salvage the laces with various knots
"I am sorry, my potato. Allow me to get you a new bracelet - "
"There is no new bracelet, Vil. This is from my home. I...I want to go home. This is all I have left and I need to fix it!"
It is not every day that Vil feels regret for his actions. He convinced himself that he was doing you a favor by getting rid of the old thing, but really? He was being selfish and ignored your feelings for what he wanted
He pushes that down, choosing not to acknowledge his fault and silently takes the broken bracelet. With a few strategic knots he has it stable, but it'll take some extra loving to fix properly.
"We can go out tomorrow to get some supplies. With a few beads, I am certain that these pieces could bind a lovely necklace together!"
He will have to be honest about breaking it on purpose, but for now Vil is happy that you have calmed down and are satisfied with his solution. Part of him wants to decipher what you said; however, he'll set that aside and take heed from his previous mistake. Something is keeping you tied to your home, and if he wants you to stay then he'll have to create a stronger bond for himself and this world first.
Idia Shroud
What does he always tell you?
No, not that there is always a catch with 'f2p' games. Well - yes, he does say that but right now we are talking about the other thing
Y'know
That the outside world sucks??? Hello??? He is essentially a broken record, repeating this every time Ortho or yourself try to get him to leave his room
Everything you need for survival can be acquired from one space. Need money? Work remote. Food? Delivery. Entertainment? Does he need to even -
Look. The point is made. Back on topic, Idia has enforced this time and time again. Yet you always insist on dragging him somewhere or going out on your own if he refuses. More often the latter, because you need to find him in a very special mood for him to go out anywhere physically. When you weren't as close, he would let you go off easily. It isn't his job to babysit you? Now though? He is a bit more 'tricky' on the topic.
Idia thrives on your attention. Absolutely adores it. When the CCTV picks you up as you bypass the Ignihyde security, his heart throbs because he knows that you have no other buisness here other than coming to see him or Ortho. Yet...he has issues being honest about this. Normally he'll be freaking out like a normie in his room until you knock, and then he speedily throws on his headset and pretends that he was in the middle of programming something important
Then you do your thing and "annoy," him with your "normie" talk. Tell him all about your day, joke around, play some games, maybe sneak out and get him stuff from the vending machine so he doesn't have to
And then it ends. Either it's late and you have to go home, or you have other plans to attend. Either way, you always extend an invitation for him to join. Just to get some fresh night air or go have some quality people time
As stated prior, at first he did not care. He'd let you go without a peep. Now? He has...ugh, emotional attachments *barf*. He hates knowing that you're leaving him to go have fun with other people, and he also is extremely uncomfortable with you walking alone at night. Did you not learn from what happened to him? Are you asking for a ghost to kidnap and take you as their bride/groom? He won't save you, y'know. He won't!
Needless to say, he is hella paranoid. More so about the second scenario than the first, because at least with other people you're just doing boring things like shopping.
So, Idia does what any sane person in his situation would do...and stalks you by hacking into NRC's security cameras. Just until you're in you’re home, safe, and he can relax. His intentions are pure and you haven't noticed yet. Why stop?
It's odd that on the night Idia begins to think his protective tendencies are unnecessary, that his anxiousness is justified
"What the f*ck?" He nearly growls, seeing three figures lurking outside his dorm, just beyond the entrance. Obviously not any of his students and seemingly waiting for someone.
His suspicions are proven right when you walk out the front door and one of them steps in your way. Idia thanks his past self for investing in high resolution cameras for his dorm, because he's easily able to get a clear picture of their face.
Unfortunately, audio recording is unethical (curse you Crowley) and he can't hear a word that they're saying - but it doesn't look good. Not from how you shrink backwards towards the front door, looking frantically for a way out. Sweat dribbles down Idia's neck as he debates what to do. He's not built for confrontation? But he's dorm leader, so isn't stopping this kind of stuff his job? Okay, but you're not a student of Ignihyde. Shit, you're his "friend" though. If he leaves you alone then why did he bother with all this in the first -
One of the figures grabs you by the collar, and Idia is out the door faster than Grimm when there's a can of tuna on the line. His desk chair left spinning in his wake as he bolts down the halls of his dorm
"Now listen here you little shit-"
"How about you listen ya filthy noob. I will give you three seconds,"
Idia throws open the front door an immediately pries the newly noted Savanaclaw student off you. His hair blazing double it's normal height and dark red, fueled by rage akin to what only Kingdom Hearts can evict from people. His eye begins to twitch just from looking at their false confidence fall apart. Of course, normies are all talk and no act when shit gets rough. What else did he expect?
"We have no buisness with you, shut-in. Butt out,"
"Three seconds. Leave or I will activate our military grade security systems,"
"Wha-"
"Two"
"Dude, you think we care?"
"One"
"Fine! Whatever! Don't think you're off the hook, prefect"
The title is spit out like a curse, and Idia nearly calls his newest project to chase after them ('Cerberus' Robotic doggos meant to deliver mail, but have an attack function. Why not?)
By the time they’re gone, Idia's thoughts begin to settle and his sense of self returns. He's outside, in his casual clothes with no shoes, there's a slight chill, and he's gripping something - or rather someone - tightly.
"Ah! I'msorryIdidn'tmeantotouchyou," he jumps back, his hair turning bright pink and hands shaking from what he did
You cough into your fist, "No prob. You didn't have to do that...I know you hate confrontation," your voice comes out shaky, and Idia's brain halts, "You're crying," he whispers in disbelief.
"What? No. Pssh. You seriously think that could shake me up? Have you seen the stuff I deal with daily?"
He is not convinced. If it were anyone else, he would have left. He can't handle this kind of stressful situation...then again, he normally can't handle confrontation either, but he just did so…
He sighs, inching closer "What...what did they say to you?" he can try. He might regret it, but he hasn't been rational all night.
Your eyes glaze over, likely reliving whatever conversation just took place before your eyes well up, "I know it's not true. I know. I know I can fit in somehow but I just want to go home. It would be so much easier if I could just go home,"
The last of your words are muffled by your hands as you frantically try to compose yourself. Idia doesn't need to hear more. He's intuitive. From what you've said and the way that student spoke your title...he gets it. Which is why he leads you back inside, lets you sleep in his bed, and prepares a special little surprise for those students with the camera footage from earlier. He was planning to stay awake playing video games, why not use his time more ‘productively’?
Idia stands by his words - the outside world sucks. Yet you know what sucks more? Pissing him off, and making one of the only people he has *barf* emotional attachments to, feel the need to leave him and go to another world to feel safe. There is a reason he was placed in Ignihyde, and it wasn't his smarts or reclusiveness.
No. It was his temper.
Malleus Draconia
“Prefect. Does this belong to you?”
Malleus holds out a phone unlike any sold in Twisted Wonderland. At first he thought his technological illiteracy was why he couldn’t pin point the design, so he brought the phone to Ignihyde’s dorm leader. Not even Idia recognized the brand, but with a bit of tinkering he was able to get the phone charged and working (through methods Malleus could not begin to fathom).
The home screen brightened up and soon they found your name in the settings. Malleus was surprised, to say the least. He did not expect you to be the owner of such foreign technology, or for Idia to throw the phone as if it burned him. Something about being a ‘red flag’ and invading your privacy? Eh. Surely there is nothing too concerning inside an old phone.
To be safe, he withholds his curiosity in favor of returning the phone to you. He could not navigate it even if he wanted to, honestly.
He made the right call. The way your eyes sparkle with recognition at the device and take it gingerly from his hands. You twirl it around a few times in disbelief, earning a bemused chuckle from him.
“I found it near the ceremonial hall. Be careful with your belongings or else they may one day end up in the wrong hands,”
You smile brightly at him when the screen lights up, and throw your arms over his shoulders in a hug, “Thankyouthankyouthankyou! I can’t believe you found this for me! I was so worried I lost all my pictures and data,”
You startle him with the physical contact. He definitely did not picture your first hug to go this way. Although he quickly composes himself, returning the gesture albeit with less strength.
He grows curious, “Pictures? Data?” wondering if there really was something worth while in the phone. You pull him at arms length and giddily start tapping away at the screen, “yeah! Having this means I can should you all what my world looks like! Food, people, scenery - oh, I think I have some memes saved too,”
He refrains from asking what a ‘meme’ is, too caught up in trying to understand you. Sure, he expected you to be happy that he found your phone but to see this level of cuteness? Are you missing anything else that he can find?
You hastily show him your phone and begin to swipe through the “camera roll,” as you call it. Once in a while you stop to laugh, explain who a person is or what’s going in in a picture. He soaks it all in like a sponge, committing each face to memory since they’re important to you.
Time passes, and you begin to slow down. Occasionally you’ll stare at a photo longingly, or revisit others to zoom in on faces or pieces of the scenery.
“I wonder if they miss me,” you whisper, and he understands where your heart is. Painfully so.
He stares at your reflection in the phone, wondering how such joy can be turned to sorrow so quickly, “They would be fools not to. You are…unforgettable…to say the least,”
You nod, wiping away a stray tear, “I hope so. I want to go home, but the thought of them forgetting me? Or the people here doing the same…I wish that I didn’t have to choose,”
You will never be forgotten. Malleus can assure you that much. The nickname “Tsunotaro,” will forever haunt him (affectionately) for the rest of his life - and you? He will always care for you, no matter where you go.
He cannot make that choice for you or take away your suffering. Neither does he regret retuning the phone and digging up these old memories. It pains him to see you so heartbroken, but he knows you love that world just as much as this one.
You won’t have to choose. He will find a way to bridge both worlds if it means that you can be happy. Then you can take him to all the places in those pictures, introduce him to the people and things you love - and then? He isn’t quite sure, but it’s a start to a long road of ensuring that you never leave his side.
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A Place for me to reblog fics i love so that i dont have to keep digging through my main to refind them. TBT = To Be Tagged
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