Masterlist:
Click on the titles to be redirected to the story's masterlist.
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Title: Left for Carnage (PAUSED)
Fandom: Twisted Wonderland
Summary: Tragedy struck when your elder brother, with whom you shared a close bond, went missing, causing the rift between your family members to tear even further apart and you going to live in your late mother's estate.
However, a letter written by the prince of Draconia himself recently arrived at the mansion, speaking of the resurgence of monsters and mentioning your brother. He wishes to see you in his castle. What awaits you on this path?
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Title: Objection! Stand your ground! Marvelous!
Fandom: Twisted Wonderland
Summary: A kendo student, an heir to a jewelry empire, and the child of a detective and a lawyer are now stuck in a bizarre world where everyone can wield magic.
It was just a summer job at the police station where your father works. A distraction from the heat and extra money. But what happens when you join the ever-expanding list of people who have mysteriously disappeared?
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Title: The End is Near
Fandom: Gravity Falls
Summary: On October 2, 1980, a series of 911 calls from Gravity Falls were placed to the Roadkill County Sheriff's Office in the early morning hours, reporting the appearance of doppelgangers and loved ones suddenly turning violent.
Unfortunately, you just happen to arrive on the same hellish day as the brand-new detective who was transferred from the capital to fill the empty sheriff's office.
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I don’t know what happened. I went to edit the original post with the updated photos with the Stanford font and.....poof. Fucking Gone. Now I want to die....so here’s a re-upload.
Any who...
Some references to @lemonfodrizzleart’s Artist!Stan and @artsymeeshee’s Chibi Stan
Take a look around Stanley’s corner
The trip to Loch Ness may not be all for naught
Be sure to check out the first album
For some reason you can zoom in more on Reddit. Check out some details!
WARNING: mentions of violence, blood, injuries, body horror, and animal mutation.
Note: sorry this took so long! had a few rough weeks and I'm nearing the end of my final year in uni, but it's all good! Thank you so much to everyone who left a like, reblog, or comment, it makes me so happy to see you're enjoying this fic!
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Fiddleford's sudden cry stops you dead in your tracks. One foot in the air, covered in the creature's dark blood, hands clenched tightly into fists, unaware that your nails are digging painfully into your palms as you stare directly into the lantern's light like a deer caught in the headlights.
His mouth moves, but you're too disoriented to pay attention to the worried string of words that leave his tongue. His eyebrows furrow, a hand reaching out in concern, but your vision swims as the adrenaline begins to subside, and your body screams at the injuries scarring your skin and muscles. “Fiddleford… When did you get here?”
Your ears buzz and pop painfully. However, as if a switch had been flipped, the forest around you suddenly returns to life instantly. In the distance, you can hear the rustling of branches, the crunching of leaves, and the hooting of night owls. Even the fog has lifted, allowing you to see beyond the clearing and further into the forest. Did the creature restrict your vision and hearing? No way. That should be impossible, right?
Your legs feel like jelly, the muscles burning in protest as they beg you to sit down. Unfortunately, as you step back from the mangled carcass, you land on your injured ankle, and combined with the sole of your shoe covered in the monster's slippery blood, your entire world is turned upside down as you land painfully on your back, the blades of grass nipping at your exposed skin.
“Sweet sarsaparilla! You alright!?” within seconds, Fiddleford's worried face comes into view, the moon framing his head beautifully, making him look like an angel. When did he get so pretty? You nod weakly and close your eyes, trying to rid yourself of the dizziness that makes it hard to breathe and even harder to swallow.
“M’fine,” your voice sounds so strange, hoarse, like you’ve got the worst cold in history. It sucks to breathe, worse to be alive right now, the pain on your ankle feels like fire, scorching the surrounding skin. ‘But it’ll pass… it always does.’ Lukewarm fingers suddenly but gently intertwine with yours as Fiddleford pulls you to sit up and you open your bleary eyes, dizzily watching the man rifle through his bag with determination.
“Hold steady, Sunflower. I’m gonna push down on ya neck, this might hurt,” he mutters as he slips on a pair of surgical gloves, the latex snapping close to his skin. You perk up when hearing the flower, was that supposed to be a nickname for you? An unfamiliar but not unwelcome heat swirls in your chest and your suspicion is confirmed when Fiddleford stares back, eyes wide at what has left his mouth, and that sweet blush is back on his cheeks.
A small smirk is plastered on your face, and for some strange reason, you feel giddy. “That’s a cute nickname… I quite like it. But, why sunflower?” you cough roughly and put a hand on his shoulder, watching him jump at the sound out of the corner of your eye. He carefully hides his face from you, stuttering as he whispers about you shutting up and “letting him do the medic's work.” You just chuckle in return.
You close your eyes again as you concentrate on listening to the now vibrant surroundings, taking your attention away from the pain. Soon, nimble fingers start poking and prodding at your neck, where you imagine a rather large purple bruise is beginning to form. You suck in a breath as he presses down on a particularly painful spot, and he quietly apologizes, muttering something about your thyroid gland.
“FIDDLEFORD!? WHERE ARE YOU!?” a voice suddenly shouts from beyond the nearby trees. As your eyes open, a flash of white light haphazardly cuts through the branches and foliage. Said man perks up at the mention of his name and leans away from your ear to shout his location, prompting a quizzical look from you in return. “Ah! Remember my college buddy? That’s him right there.”
As if summoned, the nearby bushes rustle harshly when a tall, broad man in a large tan trench coat steps through, leaves and twigs stuck in his fluffy brown hair. Your fingers involuntarily twitch; why do you have this sudden urge to run your hands through it? What is wrong with you today!? You zap the thought away, paying close attention to the new stranger who wipes away at the grime and debris caught in his clothing.
“Ah, there you are! The police are here, they’re asking for the new chief,” he explains rather breathlessly, lifting his head to finally face you both and offering a polite smile at you. “You must be her. I’m Dr. Stanford Pines, a pleasure to meet you,” you mumble your name to him, trying to ease the pain as much as possible.
He seems to understand your predicament, nodding before his attention is immediately enraptured by the beast’s carcass lying still on the ground. “I see, so this is what was causing all that ruckus,” he hums, crouching down near one of its twisted limbs as he digs through his coat pockets, pulling out a large burgundy notebook and fountain pen, and quickly jotting down a variety of notes at the speed of light.
His insatiable curiosity impresses you, especially when his attention is so focused on the macabre scene before him. But remembering Fiddleford's explanation during the car ride, you dismiss his behavior as the burning curiosity most scientists have. “Document all you want, but those notes won't see the light of day until we figure out what’s going on,” you warn, the pain in your throat slowly easing as you speak more clearly.
Stanford doesn't look up from his notes, but you can spot a small grin. “Do not worry; my research and discoveries are for my eyes only,” he pronounces proudly, even slightly puffing out his chest. However, Fiddleford rolls his eyes and scoffs, muttering a playful “unfortunately” as he signals to his pockets, implying a lack of money. You chuckle softly.
“Well now, looks like your neck’s holdin’ up alright, ‘cept for that bruise and temporary damage to your vocal cords. You feelin’ pain anywhere else ‘sides your ankle?” You’re about to point to the side of your torso, muscles still pulsating where the monster’s arm slammed into you when a loud thought crosses your mind: ‘You’ve bothered them enough, there’s no need to waste any more resources on you.’
You just shake your head, ignoring the searing pain that runs through a good chunk of your torso. This is nothing new, you've dealt with worse and you'll just push through when it gets unbearable, like always. Scanning you one last time for any other superficial injuries he might have missed due to the adrenaline, Fiddleford nods before moving quickly to your ankle, carefully gripping the limb to avoid causing more pain as he pulls your pant leg up to inspect the damage.
At the sight of the angry red marks cutting into your skin and oozing blood that has begun to coagulate, the man draws a rather loud breath, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to remove the tattered pieces of black leather that stubbornly cling to your calf and once belong to your shoe.
“Thank the heavens, them cuts don’t seem too deep; no need for stitches. Your boot took most of the hit,” he comforts, rummaging through his bag as he takes out a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a few cotton balls. Damn it, you liked those shoes too, you got them in a Christmas sale as a personal gift with your first paycheck. “But I reckon you best not be walkin’ too much, and get a tetanus shot once we’re done.”
Dabbing the cotton, the cold, wet material touches your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as Fiddleford delicately cleans the area around the injury. With a quiet warning, he pours the icy liquid directly onto the cuts, causing you to jerk back slightly as you feel the hydrogen bubbles burn through the edges of your injury. Soon the sizzling stops and the man wipes away the dirty residue with a handkerchief before expertly bandaging the wound and gently patting your knee.
“All done! You took it like a champ. With some rest and painkillers, that pain oughta clear right up,” Fiddleford stumbles to his feet, removing the surgical gloves with a snap! and tossing them haphazardly into his bag before extending a bare hand to you. You thank him under your breath, feeling rather warm inside as your fingers wrap around his palm, and in one strong tug, you stand up but,
But as the sole of your tattered boot hits the ground, the world spins before your eyes, colors blurring, shapes moving like water as your legs lock, your body feeling like jelly, weak and wobbly, and without warning you stagger forward, your face slamming into the man's chest as your arms wrap limply around his torso, seeking stability. With your skin so close to Fiddleford's, you can feel his heart beating a mile an hour.
He yelps in surprise, his hands flailing around your body, unable to process what's happening or where to put them. “M’sorry, I feel like I have no control of my body,” your raspy voice is muffled, your nose buried deep in his green shirt where you inhale his earthy scent, a soothing yet intense mix of honey, lavender, and rosemary. And though you would like to stay buried there forever, this man is going to have a heart attack if you don't move soon.
And so your trembling palms loosen their grip on his shirt, creeping up to his shoulders before you push against them, lifting your body and coming face to face with reddened cheeks and crooked glasses. “I-It’s all g-good; it’s real… um… n-normal for someone to feel a bit… ah, s-shook up after somethin’ like that,” Fiddleford stumbles with his words, his eyes looking everywhere but at you.
You nod, eyes lidded, as the exhaustion of the night's events finally begins to take its stubborn toll on your body, but you push it away, knowing full well that you won't be able to sleep until the morning, or even the afternoon. Work comes first, and with the two injured boys telling you that a beast brutally murdered their friend, and its carcass lying a few feet away from you, it's going to be rather a fun night.
“Thank you, Fiddleford. You’re very sweet… I owe you a coffee,” you pat him affectionately on the right cheek before walking away, allowing the poor man to catch his breath as he immediately ducks down and hurriedly shoves his materials and trash into his bag, not caring if the products get wrinkled or crushed.
Meanwhile, your attention is drawn to the other man, Stanford, who is so engrossed in his research that he didn't seem to notice the commotion next to him. Or at least turned a blind eye to it. You wobble your way over to him, putting little force on your injury as you crane your neck to look at the yellowed page.
You're impressed by the craftsmanship, watching quietly as skilled and calloused fingers write in cursive, detailing the properties of the creature's skin and bones, adding the worryingly pale appearance of the monster and a burning question: “What even is this thing?”. He then rapidly focuses on the incomplete sketch that takes up a good part of the page, streaks of black ink filling in the blanks of what the monster may have looked like, as you destroyed its face, only leaving a crater with mushed insides.
You crouch down beside him, the movement finally alerting him to your presence. His head immediately jumps up, his eyes widening and his mouth agape as he slams the journal shut, hiding it behind his back under his trenchcoat. His surprise is then replaced by a look of annoyance on his face, and his lips tighten, shoving his hands harshly into his pockets.
“Weren't you ever taught that it's rude to poke around people's personal belongings?” He huffs, lowering his face. You simply shrug your shoulders, undisturbed by his actions and words. “Well, you are documenting my crime scene, so I think I have some right to be nosey,” you fire back.
He scoffs and rolls his eyes, and while you can't detect any malice in his actions, you also don’t get a hint of playfulness either. He's put a barrier between you, and you can't really blame him. But oh well, now that the damage has been done, you're going to add insult to injury by poking your nose into his business. “I get that you're a scientist, but what is it that fascinates you about this thing?”
You reach out and touch the body lightly; it's cold as ice, and you're even more certain that whatever this thing is resembles a bat. Its skin is soft, wrinkled, and quite elastic, and it's covered in a very thin layer of spiky hair, almost invisible to the eye. Its claws are stained a strong, deep yellow, with dirt, moss, and grime accumulated under the protective plate.
Closer inspection of the body reveals that it appears to have no exposed reproductive system and, bizarrely, the appearance of the boy it was trying to emulate earlier has now disappeared, leaving behind an eerily milky skin with dark protruding veins. How in God’s name are you going to explain this creature to the families of the victims?
Next to you, Stanford perks up at your words, his body almost vibrating with the emotion of being able to pour out a sea of scientific theories and words to a stranger who may share the same interest. Sudden bright eyes look at you, and he reminds you of an eager child. “Ah! Well, to answer your question, I must ask one back. Tell me, do you believe in the supernatural?”
… Did you hear that right? You turn around, hoping that this is his way of bluffing or breaking the ice, but as you focus on his expression, noticing his furrowed eyebrows and sharp eyes, you realize he’s dead serious. You stare at him back, bewildered. “Huh?” Stanford is about to repeat the question when you lift a hand, cutting him off and your mouth falls slightly open.
Somebody was murdered, two boys were injured and this man is trying to tell you that this monster is a cryptid? What? That this creature falls in the same category as ghosts and vampires? You definitely hit your head too hard when you fell.
Look, it's not an unusual question. Thanks to the rise of horror films and TV shows, your colleagues have dragged you into several conversations about the same subject. And, to be honest, you have a firm opinion on the matter: they don't exist. You believe that aliens are real. Maybe they don't look like gray or green people, but humans can't be the only living organisms in the universe.
But things like ghosts, Mothman, and werewolves? Yeah, that stuff felt more like attention-grabbing ploys that could only provide fantastical stories and a conveniently blurry photo rather than real and concrete evidence of their existence. Besides, so many scientists and experts keep saying and proving that such creatures can't exist, no matter how much “mediums” claim they do.
Fucking hell, you and your close friend and college roommate, Paula, used to get play a game on Halloween, drinking every time a psychic came on TV and did something stupid or ridiculous to prove the existence of ghosts or poltergeists. You would end up blacked out, sprawled on the floor, giggling like idiots as the clock struck midnight.
Stanford gives a quizzical look yet his eyes are still twinkling, his hands shifting impatiently inside his pockets as you’re attempting to formulate a response, that’s not an insult, when the nearby bushes begin to shift. Leaves and twigs crunch under the pressure of someone's shoe, which causes you and Stanford to immediately move away from the sound, scurrying to stand up as you draw the taser that was still attached to your belt.
"Who's there?" your voice is strong, the hoarseness in your tone from the injury still fresh, but the pain is almost gone now, only pulsing slightly. The leaves are shaking violently and you can feel Stanford taking a step back, almost hiding behind you, using you as a shield, but he’s clutching something tightly in his left hand. His legs are slightly apart, his eyebrows furrowed as he assumes a fighting stance. Fiddleford is close behind, but far enough away that if anything dangerous jumps out, he can run away without too much trouble.
Seconds feel like minutes as your stomach twists into knots and your heart pounds against your chest. Sometime during the commotion, the lamp is shut off, plunging your surroundings into complete darkness. You silently pray to yourself that this isn't another one of nature's freaks, avenging its fallen sibling and taking your head back as a trophy. But as the branches clear and a beam of light cuts through, a short, chubby man with curly hair and sunglasses steps forward.
The man whistles a cheerful tune, bobbing his head to the beat as he struts nonchalantly, but stops when he sees the three of you standing in the dark. The four of you stare at each other, your eyes squinting and your bodies frozen in poses of attack or surprise.
Great, now a complete stranger has stumbled upon this bizarre crime scene; you're already worried about how relaxed and composed both Stanford and Fiddleford were at the sight of the monster’s corpse, and now you’re adding someone else to the mix. But as your eyes adjust to the powerful beam of the flashlight and you take a closer look at the new man, you notice his clothing, a rather plain police uniform and a forest ranger hat.
This must be one of the officers looking for you. Maybe he's a future colleague of yours.
“Ah, Officer Blubs, glad you could find us. " Your suspicions are confirmed as Stanford clears his throat and relaxes his pose. He quickly stores away whatever weapon he was holding inside his trench coat and shoves his hands back into his pockets. Behind you, Fiddleford breathes a sigh of relief as his shoulders slump and the wrinkle that had furrowed his forehead disappears.
The man, addressed as Blubs, playfully tips his hat to the scientist in a silent greeting, before turning his eyes, hidden behind his sunglasses (an odd fashion choice to wear at night), to focus on your figure. As if a light bulb had gone off in his head, he digs in his pockets and produces a crumpled Polaroid photograph, which he holds up to your face.
The cold air billows harshly as it ruffles your already-tangled hair and while your face doesn’t show it, you’re ready to fall asleep standing up if this man doesn’t hurry it up. An awkward pause placates the air before it’s interrupted by a deep laugh rumbles from within the chest of Blubs. “Well damn! If it isn’t my new boss! You got one hell of a welcome, didn’t ya?”
He puts a hand on your shoulder, gently squeezing the muscle as a sign of friendship. From the way his grip is rather loose and the playful grin on his mouth, you can tell that there's an easy, almost effortless quality to him as if he's never in a hurry to be anywhere. You hope he'll put his back into his work if he's going to operate alongside you.
Yet you push the thought away as a small smile breaks through your tired expression, an unknown weight that has been plaguing your mind easing away. “You’re damn right… we should start right away if we want to catch some much-needed sleep," you immediately go into work mode, but not before returning his gesture. You give the man your name and he asks you to call him by his first name, Daryl.
You nod, turn to the other two, and quickly point your thumb toward the makeshift exit. “Alright, get back to your house and lock the doors, we’ll phone you later to go to the station and take your statements,” you catch a glimpse of Stanford opening his mouth, probably wanting to stay and continue examining the creature, but he's promptly stopped by Fiddleford, who starts to drag him away.
“Thank ya, Sunflower. Give me a holler if that injury’s still botherin’ ya. We’ll be seein’ ya,” He waves his hand shyly but insistently, giving you a sweet smile before rapidly walking away, a confused scientist following close behind. As the figures of the two men become smaller and smaller, you turn to Blubs, who idly prods the creature's body with his foot, completely unfazed by the abomination.
“Daryl, radio the others and tell them to bring a body bag. The sooner we get this thing down to a lab, the better,” you instruct, letting out a tired sigh, mentally preparing yourself for the piles of paperwork you'll be filling out in the next few hours. The deputy perks up, and a hand shoots up to embarrassingly scratch his neck. Oh God, what now?
“My bad. Forgot to tell you that is just you and me, boss lady.”
… What?
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You want to die. It’s been sixteen hours since you and Daryl somehow managed to drag the creature's body from four miles deep in the woods, stuff it in the tiny trunk of the police car, and drag your ass back to the dinky little station to start delivering bad news, sending the two kids to the hospital and trying to piece together what happened.
You were able to grab your briefcase, a pair of shoes, and a suitcase full of clothes and toiletries from your car so you could at least get a quick makeover and not look like you hadn't been mauled by a bear during interrogations. But as your eyes darted to your own vehicle, neatly parked right in front of the A-shaped house, a pit of shame welled up deep in your stomach for just leaving it there.
“Don't worry, Sunflower. We'll take care of it!” it was Fiddleford, who had just opened one of the windows of the house when observing your worry after passing by. The sweet man even offered to drive it to your house and you were two seconds away from grabbing his collar and kissing him senseless, but hey, have some class, you just met the guy. So, you simply shout a warm gratitude, before scurrying to the passenger’s side.
As the small police car speeds down the dirt road, Daryl fills you in on what happened while you were fighting the monster, but not before making sure the other two teenagers are not paying attention. Fortunately, they were both fast asleep, the exhaustion of the day's events having taken its toll on their minds.
You felt a pang of sadness as you observed the two of them holding each other tightly, their hands and fingers wrapped tightly around one another, their faces troubled as their dreams are unable to soothe their worries.
You also commented loudly on Dylan's missing tourniquet, wondering if the device had unraveled on its own, but your new associate noted that as soon as Stanford heard the commotion and opened the door, he immediately took the boy in and properly bandaged his injury.
You make a mental note of thanking the eccentric scientist when you see him next time.
As the car picks up speed and signs of civilization begin to appear, Daryl continues in a grave voice. “The other kid didn’t make it… died about four minutes after his friends called 911. We have at least three other missing cases and the boys at Roadkill County already found the body of Tabitha Roberts,” you sigh, scrubbing furiously at your face to remove some of the dirt stains. If you're getting help from another jurisdiction, the situation is dire.
“What do we tell ’em, boss lady?” is the heavy and burning question that hangs in the air. The uncomfortable one, especially when so many important details are clouded by uncertainty and so little evidence. But as the engine roars louder and a street of quaint suburban homes comes into view, you thank yourself for having gathered enough information about some of the conflicts that plague this sleepy town.
“We hypothesize that the creature that murdered your son was a mutated being,” is what you told everyone who took a seat in your new and bare office. Now clean after a hasty shower at the station, you presented the possible theory behind the inexplicable monster you had fought mere hours before.
You saw a variety of facial expressions after hearing this sentence: shock, confusion, anger, and one man was ready to curse you until you took a thick folder from your briefcase and quickly spread a variety of photographs and papers with graphs or testimonies written on them across the surface of the mahogany desk. You drew the following picture:
In 1963, just outside the small town of Gravity Falls, the Northwest family built a factory to mass-produce mud flaps. Soon after it opened, however, several townspeople began to complain that the river that ran alongside the building was polluted, adding that the water looked greenish or gray, and smelled of rotten food and burnt rubber.
Three years later, more complaints were received, this time about the appearance of deformed animals with two heads, having four eyes, or making strange noises such as screams wandering near the factory. To make matters worse, one of the workers was attacked by a deer with deformed hooves whose skin fell off easily, revealing that its muscles had turned completely white.
Soon after, a group of scientists from West Coast Tech University conducted a series of tests that confirmed the lake was contaminated with mercury and other chemicals that came from the factory. The report added that the mutations in the animals were not instantaneous, but were genetic mutations that came from generations of animals drinking water from the contaminated river.
People petitioned the county and the government to close the factory and clean up the river. However, to this day, the Northwest factory continues to operate and the contamination has spread, so the beast may be the result of generations of mutations.
Many of the victims' family members held onto the papers shakily, staring intently at the pictures of the mutated animals or the numbers showing the percentage of chemicals found in a sample of water taken from the river. You kept reminding them that this was only a hypothesis at the moment, a theory with no proof, but that you and Daryl were working to find out what was going on.
Most of them were upset but convinced by what you had told them. Others were more reluctant to believe, but couldn't refute much because they lacked vital information or were too emotionally drained to argue. They simply told you not to forget their loved ones... you replied, a sliver of emotion breaking through, that they would never be forgotten.
They seemed satisfied with that answer, as you awkwardly returned their hugs... you don't think you'll ever really get used to tokens of affection.
As the people left the precinct, you began to worry. About the panic, the fear-mongering, the speeches about hell, the devil, and divine redemption. Worse still, those idiots who call themselves paranormal hunters, who put themselves in danger by sneaking into the woods late at night, only to have their faces plastered on missing persons posters when they fall off cliffs or are mauled by wild animals.
“Eh, don’t sweat it. The information doesn’t spread too far, hell, this town’s been experiencing so much weird shit since centuries ago yet everyone’s accustomed to it. Believe me, once the eulogies pass and the bodies are buried… they’ll quickly forget about it. They always do… Well, welcome to the team, (Y/N)!”
This was what Roadkill County's Chief of Police, Harlan Farley, told you before he gave you a firm pat on the back and left the station with a few of his deputies. You, on the other hand, were left speechless, his words repeating in your head like a broken record as Daryl forced you to take a break and eat something.
So you find yourself sluggishly seated in a weathered booth at Greasy's Diner, an odd-looking eatery that seems to be a staple of the "Gravity Falls experience", as your co-worker puts it. Your calloused and bruised finger gently circles the rim of the worn ceramic mug, your weary gaze lost in the ripples of the now cold and cheap-tasting coffee, brain empty yet filled with incoherent thoughts.
You desperately need a long, uninterrupted nap.
You shrink further into your coat as you feel the shameless stares of customers and passers-by whispering about the new police chief. You've gotten used to the harsh and rude words thrown your way; it's not just part of your job, it's been a constant in your life for some time. Fortunately, you're far away from them now. But that doesn't mean you enjoy the feeling of being watched like a bacterium under a stethoscope.
Your sharp ears catch the unsavory words of a woman sitting in the booth behind you, commenting that you look sick and unhealthy. Her friends point out the bruises and cuts on your face, the way you wobble slightly when you walk, and stare uncomfortably at the back of your head. You don’t have a single moment of peace, do you?
Too tired to care, you push the mug further into the linoleum table, careful not to spill a drop as you unceremoniously rest your head on the unhygienic and cold surface. Your eyes are drooping, your meal is taking far too long, so you might as well have a quick power nap to regain some energy before eating a hearty, possibly cholesterol-laden meal and heading back to work.
Your muscles begin to relax, the mundane life and casual conversation of those around you acting as a lullaby as unseen hands gently pull you into your dreams. But the momentary relief is snatched away as something light jumps right next to you and... meows?
Your bleary eyes open, and in between the tears of sleep, you find yourself face-to-face with a cat. When did it get in? You didn't see it when you came into the diner. You examine the cat: its thick, fluffy coat is a beautiful shade of butterscotch, with highlights of white and lighter yellow and orange tones. There's a large patch of black fur on the crown of his head, which almost makes it look like he's wearing a hat. What's bizarre about him, though, are his eyes. The irises are completely white, making his black and thin pupils stand out even more. Is it a characteristic of the town that its animals look strange?
Annoyed by your curious yet sleepy gaze, the cat's eyes squint and it raises a paw in anger, clawing at your arm as it meows again. Is he asking you to pet him? No, it's actually demanding that you do it. You slowly reach out, afraid the cat will strike and claw at your skin, but when your palm lands on its head and it doesn't move, you breathe a sigh of relief.
“Hello, buddy. What are you doing here?” you coo softly, fingers gently scratching the cat's skull in a circular motion. As if in response, the feline meows back, head tilted to the side as if searching for your fingers, imploring you to scratch a particular spot. You laugh softly, obeying the cat's wishes as your nails rake through the fur, which is covered with a very thin layer of dirt and dust.
It almost feels like therapy, the stress of the earlier hours melting away as you hear his purr from deep within his chest as he closes his eyes and relaxes. It's so cute, you think, wondering why your mother never really wanted a pet. You would have loved to have one around the house, maybe now that you're independent you could adopt one. Although, with how busy you are at work, you feel bad about leaving it alone for most of the day.
The cat's head suddenly leaves your hand and a pang of disappointment runs through your body, hoping that the creature will return so that you can continue to chase that feeling of softness. But you're surprised when the cat slips into your lap and begins to walk awkwardly in circles, its body bumping against the table before settling comfortably on your thighs, its tail curled inwards and its head tucked neatly against your belt.
The cat lets out a deep sigh from his small and pink nose as if releasing all the stress that has built up over the week, and seconds later his eerie yet adorable eyes close, the warmth of your body and your pets lulling him into a deep sleep.
You chuckle, finding his position and actions adorable.
WARNING: mentions of violence, nausea, blood, injuries, weapon and gun usage, a monster, and body horror.
Note: thank you for the likes and reblogs! Btw, this is the first time I write a character with a country accent, I apologize if it's horrible xdd
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‘Good evening, folks! Or is it morning? Well, either way, fantabulous of you to tune in at The New Wave Network, where we’re grooving no matter the time of day! It’s the 2nd of October and the clock strikes at 1:15 a.m. Hoo boy! We’re just a few weeks away from Halloween, so, let’s set the mood with Shadowplay’s new wicked song “The Graveyard Shift”. Have a listen, folks!’
As you step on the accelerator, pine and cedar trees zoom past your window and the outside world becomes a blur. You've been surrounded by greenery and nature for two hours now, and while it's been a pleasant sight at first, you're quickly becoming concerned as the scenery repeats itself. Your destination seems completely unreachable, almost non-existent.
When you woke up two days ago, you didn't expect to uproot your entire life and move halfway across the country for your job. It started when you arrived at the precinct that morning; a week earlier, rumors of a possible promotion in your unit had spread like wildfire, leaving your colleagues and friends suddenly on top of their game.
For example, Craig, who always had food stains on his shirt and an unshaven face, wore immaculate button-downs and slicked-back hair. Jack, who had always flipped the bird at your boss whenever the old man wanted something, now happily made his coffee and showered him with sickly sweet compliments.
You, on the other hand, were content with your position as a forensic scientist. That's not to say that the possibility of a better salary and even having your own office away from the row of wall-to-wall cubicles wasn't tempting, but you weren't exactly desperate for a change within the precinct. You were planning on moving sometime soon.
But that thought flew out the window as your boss immediately dragged you into his office and offered you the opportunity. But what the rumors didn't tell you was that it wasn't a promotion... you were being transferred to another precinct to fill an empty position and it offered better benefits, like a new house and a higher salary... though it was in the middle of nowhere.
It was a tempting offer, and you almost gave in when you were shown a picture of the beautiful house. But something kept nagging at you: the town. Gravity Falls? Never heard of it. Sure, you don't know every single place in the United States, but something about it told you to not take that chance.
When asked why you were chosen, your boss simply replied: “You’re the perfect candidate for this.” He didn't let you probe further into his answer but fervently insisted on hearing your verdict. He almost checked the "yes" box on the form until you physically stopped him.
“I’ll think about it,” that didn’t last long, because as soon as you exited the office and made a beeline to your cubicle, you ran into Jackson Murdock, an asshole who thought he was more important than the moon and who worriedly took far too much pleasure in pestering you, leaning against your desk and sneering that he would love to take said “opportunity”.
So, without a moment’s thought, you turned right back around and shook your boss's clammy, wrinkled hand. His smile was rather off-putting as he handed you the paperwork.
And that's how you found yourself here, your entire life packed into a myriad of cardboard boxes shoved into your car as you drive through a darkly lit, foggy forest. You were supposed to arrive five hours earlier but ended up getting stuck in traffic due to a massive accident.
The soft rock tune from the radio fills the quiet space as you tighten your grip on the steering wheel, desperate to stretch your legs. “Fucking hell, where are you, Gravity Falls?” as if on cue to your annoyed tone, you finally drive past a massive weathered billboard with the town's name accompanied by a: ‘Nothing to see here!’.
“Finally,” you murmur in relief as exhaustion tugs at your eyes, the coffee from earlier did nothing to keep the sluggishness at bay. You lean forward, eyes squinting as your foot deftly shifts to gently press against the brakes, slowly decreasing the car's speed. The last thing you want right now is to miss a possible exit into town and end up deeper in the woods.
Speaking of which, you knew that Oregon was famous for its breathtaking scenery and gorgeous natural landscapes, but where the hell were you driving? Outside your window, the forest looked like something straight out of those recently popular horror movies that everyone in the precinct was talking about.
Tall, monster-like trees stretched far into the sky, their dense foliage and branches so intertwined that it was almost impossible for any of the moon's rays to penetrate through and illuminate the dirt road. Past the bare nature that forms a pathway, there is nothing to see, not even other trees, rocks, or signs of wildlife. It's completely pitch dark and dead.
Your stomach is in knots, perhaps from the lack of food or the scenery outside. Whatever it is, you need to get through this as soon as possible, because you're exhausted, and the less you're near this road, the better. You crank up the heat a little more and take a sip of the now-cold coffee that sits on the cup holder, as the engine of your car hums quietly climbing over a dirt hill, its dim headlights breaking through the thick fog.
But before you get very far, you come across a peculiar sight. Down the small hill, parked on the right between some large rocks, is an old, somewhat battered red pickup truck. Exaggerated clouds of thick smoke billow from the raised hood, and through your window you notice a pair of hands clutching some tools in a desperate attempt to repair the car.
Curious, you approach the vehicle and catch a glimpse of what you assume to be its owner, blowing away the gray clouds while coughing furiously, his small round glasses barely hanging from the tip of his nose and his green patterned shirt stained with grime. Your headlights cast a shadow on the car, and when the man hears the sound of your car’s engine, he lifts his head excitedly, but accidentally smacks his forehead against the hood.
You cringe at the image and watch as the poor man stumbles away from the truck, holding his head in pain as he almost falls to his knees. You feel sorry for the guy, not only did his car break down in the most eerie place possible, but it also happened in the middle of the night. Still, you remain cautious, silently reaching for the police-issued Taser tucked in the left pocket of your coat, which is haphazardly lying on the passenger seat on top of your purse.
Even though the man looks scrawny, and you assume that if he were to throw a punch it would only leave a nasty bruise, you can't help but think that he might want to inflict some harm on you. You've read countless files, back in the archival rooms of your old precinct, of victims who kindly stop to aid others only to be robbed or even murdered in return.
Dazed, the man looks up in the distance at your car, and his eyes light up in pure relief at the sight but are quickly replaced with desperation as he furiously wails his arms around, silently begging you to stop. Meanwhile, you maneuver the vehicle to the side of the dirt road, harshly pulling on the hand brake as you swiftly attach the taser’s holster to your belt before quickly lowering your sweater to cover it.
Cold, harsh air bites at your warm skin as you lower your window, making sure to keep your feet near the accelerator and your left hand on the hand brake to book it as soon as this man tries to do anything remotely suspicious. Soon, two shivering hands cling to your windowsill and you’re finally able to get a better look. You noticed that he clumsily cleaned his face and glasses using his sleeve. ‘He’s rather cute.’
“Yer a lifesaver! I’ve been sittin’ here for what feels like a whole eternity!” he exclaims in a thick country accent, giving you a closed-eyed smile as he shivers from the freezing wind. You make a small note of his fast speech and silently wonder if it’s the temperature or an underlying anxious habit.
“No problem, what can I do to help?” you don't mean for your voice to sound so monotonous, but you're exhausted from the long drive and the eerie atmosphere isn't helping. The man removes his hands from your car, opting to shove them into his pants pockets as a puff of condensed breath escapes from his mouth, his back hunched at an awkward angle. “Do ya happen to have a lantern or somethin’ to light up this here mess? I just wanna see how bad this damage is.”
You decide not to blurt out that his car might be beyond repair, as you swear the thing will burst into flames in a matter of minutes. Instead, you wordlessly reach for the open cardboard box on the floor of the passenger seat, silently thanking yourself for putting your work stuff in the front, as you quickly find the lantern and hand it to him. “Careful, it’s an industrial flashlight so it might be a bit heavy.”
The man beams at your actions, his cold fingers gently brushing against yours as he takes the lantern from your grasp. “Thanks a bunch! Could ya give me a hand here and hold this light for me?” he asks rather cheerfully as you mull over your answer. Well, the faster he gets his car fixed the sooner you’ll be able to get home and sleep.
After a few seconds of silence, you wordlessly nod before rolling up the window to preserve the little heat left inside and then turning the key on its side, your car ceasing its small vibrations as the motor shuts down. You don’t waste any more time as you grab your coat and kick the door open, immediately slipping on the warm attire as your teeth slightly chatter. ‘Fucking wind, why is it so cold? It’s not even winter, yet.’
The man has already made his way back to the pickup, and your tired eyes notice that the amount of smoke coming from under the hood has, thankfully, decreased. Taking wide strides, the dry leaves crunch underneath your boots as you quickly approach the man and gingerly slide your hand out of your pocket, your index pointing to the flashlight.
He perks up at your presence, but when his gaze lands on your face, you notice in the dim light that a small blush adorns his pale cheeks.
He stares at you for a few seconds with a dumbfounded expression, and it's only when you clear your throat and jab your finger forward that he seems to snap out of it, clumsily handing you the lantern as he focuses on the car's motor. A rather awkward silence ensues as you simply shine the light on the battered machine and he quietly tinkers with it. You should ask him his name.
“So, what are you doing out here at such an hour?” you ask, holding back a yawn. The man doesn't look up from his work, but you notice a small, rather endearing smile on his lips. “Oh! Well, my college buddy moved out here about a month ago and was lookin' for a research partner. Asked if I'd help him out and here I am!” he remembers enthusiastically as he looks at you for a moment, quietly inquiring about your reasons for being here.
“I’m the new Chief of Police in Gravity Falls,” if he was about to try something, then perhaps mentioning your work would dissuade him from that thought. Instead, however, his eyes twinkle with what you assume is excitement as he gives you a broad smile. What a bizarre man. “Well, I reckon we'll be seein' each other a whole lot!”
Suddenly, as if processing his words, he pales at the implications of his sentence and stares at you, eyes wide. “N-Not like that! I’m a law abidin’ citizen, I-I swear! We ain’t doin’ anythin’ illegal!” his panicked reaction gets you to laugh out loud, the light slightly shaking in your grasp. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I get what you were trying to say,” as the laughter dies down, the two of you fall back into silence, but this time it is more comfortable.
Unfortunately, it doesn't take long for the man to let out a frustrated sigh as he runs a dirty hand through his caramel blond hair. “Darn it… radiator’s busted,” he mutters under his breath. He won't be able to start the truck tonight; he'll have to look for a spare part. But your conscience won’t allow you to leave him here, especially when you feel as if something might jump out of the bushes and attack you.
Yes, the forest is creepy, but you doubt it is plagued by cryptids. At most, some predators are lurking around.
You lean over to take a look at what's in his truck; there aren't many boxes or luggage stuffed in the back seats, and it seems like everything fits perfectly inside your car. “Hey, how far’s your friend’s house? I’ll take you there,” he perks up, a hopeful expression washing away the worries and stress of the broken car. “Really!? Oh, bless your soul! It should be ‘bout ten minutes from here.”
The man scurries off to put his tools away and pushes the hood shut before getting his luggage out. Meanwhile, you leave the right-hand door of the back seat open as you start to take some things from his hands, wanting to hurry the process as the cold has now seeped into your bones and you can't stop shivering. You think the cold will kill you before any imaginary monster can.
Soon, the man's truck is empty and locked, but just as you're about to climb into the driver's seat, he lets out a small gasp and rubs his hands roughly against his trousers before extending one to you with a polite smile. “My mama would give me a piece of her mind for bein’ so poorly mannered. I'm Fiddleford H. McGucket, pleased to meet ya.”
You return the greeting firmly, noting that his hand is calloused and freezing, as you reply curtly with your name. Fiddleford repeats it under his breath, testing to feel how it rolls off his tongue, but a strong gust of wind causes you both to rapidly let go of each other's hands as you hurry to get into your car.
You waste no time turning on the heater, both of you breathing a sigh of relief as the warmth relaxes your muscles and soothes your frozen skin. Soon the wheels are turning and the sight of Fiddleford's truck grows smaller and smaller as you make your way along the foggy road.
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The ride is peaceful as Fiddleford leads the conversation, telling you a few facts about himself before turning his attention to you, his dark eyes full of curiosity. You cringe a little, not meaning for your voice to be so flat and your responses to be curt, but you're still getting used to socializing and you're tired. You also don’t understand what’s so interesting about yourself.
But Fiddleford doesn't seem to mind, enjoying the brief silences and conversations he has with you as he stares out the window. You also finally start to see some signs of civilization in the form of crude wooden signs haphazardly nailed into the trunks of trees, indicating how far the town is. After a few bumps in the road, Fiddleford pulls a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolds it.
“Ok… so, when ya see that sign sayin’ we’re three kilometers from the entrance to Gravity Falls, turn left,” from your peripheral vision, you watch as he extends a finger and motions to the side. “Your friend lives quite far away from town,” as the words leave your mouth, you’re made painfully aware of the taser still strapped to your belt. You hope that Fiddleford didn’t trick you… you were starting to like him.
Thankfully, your comment seems to resonate with him as he turns to look at you with an excited expression. “Right!? Told’im the same thing! But he said the place was perfect ‘cause there’s a ‘large concentration of specimens’ or somethin’ like that. Gosh, what a pain s’going to be to go to the market every week,” you can help but quietly chuckle as he huffs in frustration, relief coursing through your body.
Soon the two of you return to your normal routine, and before you know it, you're turning your blinker on and maneuvering the steering wheel as the car begins to enter the man-made driveway. A few meters ahead, you see a bizarre A-shaped house with the lights on, and Fiddleford exclaims happily, "That's the house!"
But just as you're about to step on the gas to start driving up the hill, a figure suddenly dashes out of the trees and you instantly hit the brakes, stopping the car just in time to avoid hitting the person standing a few inches from the hood. You and Fiddleford lurch forward as you gasp in shock, staring with wide eyes and fast-beating hearts at the scene ahead of you.
You grip the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles turning white as you hold your breath from the momentary fear that quickly turns to worry. In front of you, a young boy, no more than 16 years old, stares blankly at the window like a deer caught in the headlights. His face is deathly pale, his cheeks sunken as his chest rises and falls at an increasingly rapid pace, puffs of white steam quickly condensing against the cold air. It’s almost invisible, but you notice he’s trembling either from the cold or fear.
But what makes your stomach fall is the state he’s in. Three long cuts decorate the lower part of his jaw, the blood around the wound is dried, he has a busted lip and a large bruise surrounds his left eye, you can see that he is having trouble keeping it open, perhaps it is already starting to swell.
His blond hair is disheveled, mixed with twigs, leaves, and dirt. There are several cuts and other wounds on his neck and near his stomach, his shirt has four large gashes, although he does not appear to be bleeding in that area. But that does not explain the fact that his hands and part of his forearms are covered in dirt, moss, and a combination of fresh and dried blood.
From what you can see, he's wearing pajamas and doesn't appear to be armed or carrying any kind of weapon. Nevertheless, he appears to be in a state of hysteria and shock so any sort of rapid or sudden movement could lead to a violent reaction or you could scare him away. You must approach him with caution.
You get out of the car, taking care to open the door gently but quickly, not hearing Fiddleford's warning to wait. The sound of the door seems to wake the boy from his stupor, and as you expected, his face falls swiftly and he begins to back away, his body shaking uncontrollably. “Please… don’t hurt me,” his voice trembles, filled with panic as his eyes become crystalline, tears threatening to spill.
“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just worried, are you okay?” you stay put, making sure your tone is as gentle as possible to not alarm or scare him away. You notice that the atmosphere outside is deadly quiet, you can’t hear the singing of the crickets, much less the howling of the wind. ‘What the hell is going on!?’
“I need to know you’re human,” the boy demands in a shaky tone, having put a good distance between you and him. You raise an eyebrow at his request, but he seems deadly serious as his forehead furrows and his jaw clenches, his fists balling up as if ready to fight if you don't comply. “How do you want me to prove I’m human?”
For some reason, the question seems to put him at ease, as he relaxes his posture though he remains rather hostile. “I… I don’t know but… I-I just don’t know who to trust,” through whispers, tears spill from his eyes as he holds a hand out, terrified. You stand still for a moment, completely confused as to what to do, but it seems the best way to calm him down is to tell him about yourself.
“My name is (Y/N),” you begin and gently close the car door as you take a step forward. The boy perks up, teary eyes staring at you in confusion. You continue, slightly shivering as a gust of wind passes by, yet you don’t hear anything but your voice. “I’m 27. I graduated from Backupsmore as a forensic scientist… um… I hate bees and my favorite color is-”
Before you can finish, the boy suddenly bolts from his spot, his frail arms quickly wrapping around your torso and hugging you as tightly as he can. Unfortunately, due to the force, you come tumbling down, your back harshly scratching against the dirt. You're shocked for a moment, but then you feel his tears rapidly soaking your sweater and his bloody hands tightly clutching the material as he wails loudly, the sound reverberating through the dead ambient.
Somewhat stiffly, your arms embrace the boy, one hand gently rubbing circles on his back, which is shaking as he sobs. His skin is frozen, he's been out for a long time. Fiddleford quickly gets out of the car and crouches down beside you with a worried look on his face, quietly asking you if everything is alright. You just give him a small smile in return, hoping to reassure him.
"M-Miss, please help me, I'm so scared," he mumbles between loud cries, hiding his face in your shoulder. You just nod and guide him through some breathing exercises to help him think more clearly and calm down. When the crying ceases, you take off your jacket and drape it over his shoulders hoping it will warm him up a bit, while Fiddleford gently places a hand on his head.
"Let's start at the beginning, what's your name?" your question in a soft tone. The boy lifts his face from your shoulder and two red-rimmed eyes look at you sadly. "M-My name is L-Lawrence W-Woodworth," he replies scared, the words barely leaving his mouth as he shivers. "Nice to meet you, Lawrence. This is Fiddleford, my friend," the brown-haired man gives the boy a slight smile as he nods.
"You have to tell me what happened, how did you get here?" Lawrence shudders at your words but dryly swallows, as if to gather courage, and begins "W-We were coming back from my house, Dylan, Kyle and I... we were working on a s-school project. And out of nowhere, I don't know what it was, but s-something came out of the trees and..."
His palms harshly wipe away at his eyes, though he winces as he grazes the injured one. Fiddleford silently encourages him to continue as he rubs his shoulders. “I-It ripped Kyle’s s-stomach out… D-Dylan called 911 and t-then in the woods something that looked like Kyle but wasn’t Kyle… it even talked like him… it was just standing t-there and i-it started to chase us… w-we got separated and somehow I ended up here…”
You can't believe what you're hearing. If it weren't for the fact that Lawrence looks completely paralyzed with fear, you'd think this story was taken from a horror book. Could the monster be a product of the possible trauma of seeing his friend badly hurt? Or did they mistake the killer, who was standing at a long distance from them, for a more twisted version of a friend? Those are the only explanations you can currently come up with.
You look up and notice that Fiddleford has a much more serious look on his face, he seems to believe everything the boy says. But before you can question him, a bloodcurdling scream followed by a distorted roar echoes through the forest and Lawrence looks up, what little color he had regained in his face drained away. "DYLAN! OH GOD IT'S DYLAN! I HAVE TO GO GET HIM!"
Lawrence is about to run off into the woods when you grab his wrist to stop him from moving, causing the boy to yelp in pain. "Sorry, but you're not going, you're injured and putting yourself in more danger. Fiddleford, take Lawrence to your friend’s and call the police. I'll look for the other boy," you order firmly, before getting up and going to your car, opening it forcefully and diving between all the boxes.
Behind you, you hear Fiddleford gasp in surprise, his boots breaking several branches as he quickly approaches your figure. “(Y/N), be extremely careful, please. Whatever it is, it's dangerous. Please tell me you're carrying a weapon or somethin’,” the man exclaims worriedly. You quietly nod before you notice a small, thin, black briefcase, unfamiliar to you tucked between some cardboard boxes labeled “kitchen”.
Quickly, you unlock the clasp and open the lid, revealing a Smith & Wesson Model 4506 stored in the middle. Your stomach twists, this would be your first time using this thing. But you swallow that fear, a kid is in danger. Fiddleford gasps as he watches over your shoulder as you quickly load the gun with nine rounds and strap the holster to your belt, right next to the Taser. "Don't worry, it's police-issued, I've got a license and I know how to shoot."
You quickly head over to your driver’s seat, shut the car off, and grab the lantern that you stored in the glovebox. As you turn around, you quickly shove your car keys in Fiddleford’s unexpecting hands and turn over to look at Lawrence, who’s now standing up, still trembling. “What does your friend look like?” you walk over to the car, momentarily covering one of the headlights.
“D-Dylan’s tall, has short curly black hair, dark skin, and glasses. H-He was wearing… I-I think I white T-shirt,” you nod, creating the mental picture of his friends as you begin to sprint over to the forest. “BE CAREFUL,” Fiddleford’s voice filled with concern sounds distant as you book it, the cold wind cutting at your skin.
The forest is deadly quiet, the only sounds you can hear are your rapid breathing and the crunching of dried leaves and twigs as your boots stomp over them. Your stomach curls into a knot and your mouth goes dry as the faster you run, the darker your surroundings seem to get.
"DYLAN!?" your voice echoes through the trees as you flash the light around you. There are only trees, trees, and more trees! They are all starting to look the same. And the fog makes it worse as you can barely see past a few feet in front of you. You exhale exhaustedly, pausing for a moment as you try to regain your sense of direction. Your muscles ache from the sudden movement, you were more used to a life behind a desk than running in the field.
"OVER HERE! PLEASE! HELP ME!" your head whips to the right as you hear the distant screams of a young boy. There was no time to waste, as the force you used to push yourself forward caused the soles of your feet to kick up a patch of dirt and moss. You call his name again, trying to locate him more easily, and he answers, his voice much clearer now.
Soon you come to a clearing illuminated by the moonlight, and sitting against the trunk of one of the trees, his head tucked between his head and a hand on his left shoulder, is the boy who fits Lawrence's description.
"Dylan? My name is (Y/N), I met your friend, Lawrence, I'm here to take you to safety," you say breathlessly, watching as the boy slowly lifts his head, tears streaming down his face as he quietly holds back a sniffle. "L-Lawrence is okay? H-He's not hurt?" you nod softly and quickly walk over, kneeling in front of him and as you give him a warm smile.
"Yes, he's with my friend now, and help is on the way. Are you hurt?" now that you're closer, you notice that there's a deep cut on his left cheek and that his glasses are nowhere to be found, most likely lost while running through the woods. As you gently encourage him to roll over, Dylan hiccups, having cried the last of his tears, before carefully removing the hand that was holding his shoulder.
Underneath his bloody palm are two deep, heavily bleeding cuts that look very similar to the ones on Lawrence's shirt. Up close, the injury looks unnatural, and you can't put your finger on what could have done this; you assume it could be something like a hook, but the width of the gash is much wider than a butcher's hook or something heavier. "I-It got me when I tripped on a corner. I managed to f-fight it off though," he admits sheepishly, dropping his head back to his knees as he recalls the encounter. So that was the scream.
"You were incredibly brave, don't be ashamed, Dylan," you whisper comfortingly, focusing your attention on treating the wound. Placing the lantern on the ground, you grab the bottom of the sweater with both hands and pull in different directions with enough force that the threads begin to snap. Ripping the fabric until it reaches above your belt, you pull so that it goes around your waist, gathering enough to make a makeshift tourniquet.
Dylan watches quietly as you successfully separate the torn piece from your sweater. "Okay, this is going to hurt, but I'm going to wrap this around your wound, okay?" he nods shakily at your instructions, lowering his knees and stretching his injured arm out to the side. You quietly guide him to take deep breaths as you slip the fabric underneath the armpit and tightly twist and turn the cloth, softly apologizing when he winces or gasps for air.
After a few seconds, you tie a knot with the remaining cloth, successfully stopping the bleeding for the moment. Dylan tests his arms by stretching and moving the limb before standing up and grabbing the lantern left on the grass. "Where did the attacker go?" your eyes scan the area around you, but the overwhelming darkness and fog make it impossible for you to see what is beyond the clearing. The area is so quiet, so devoid of life, that you can hear your heartbeat, which begins to pick up as you hear the crunch of leaves and twigs.
Dylan and you have not moved an inch.
"Mooooooom," a distorted and crooked voice wails sadly from the trees, shaking you to your core. Its pitch goes up and down as it gets closer and closer to where you're standing, calling out in pain, searching for its mother. It doesn't even sound like a human, let alone an animal, it's as if something is painfully trying to imitate human speech.
Then you remember what Lawrence said: something that had the appearance of his friends yet it wasn’t him. There's no way... there's no way that things like that exist… Those are just myths, right? You feel Dylan tense up next to you and the light source emitting from the lantern begins to shake in his grip. The creature is determined to find you, it keeps calling out, and whatever it is, it is big, as the ground beneath it shakes and rumbles slightly whenever it takes a step.
"When I tell you to run, keep going straight until you find a hut. Don't stop and don't look back," you command in a hushed whisper, feeling your heart pounding loudly against your chest as your nimble fingers quietly unlock the holster and grab the handle of your gun. “O-Ok, please be careful, ma’am,” he replies, holding the lantern tighter.
Soon the footsteps are shaking the pebbles scattered across the ground and the mushrooms growing in the trunks of the nearby trees, and you can feel the vibrations in your ears. Beside you, Dylan slowly begins to back away from the noise, inching closer to where you first entered, while you stare at the source of the sound. "Mooooom... I want my mom," it cries again, this time louder, and you shudder at the disgusting tone in which it speaks.
"I hate it... why does it sound so much like Kyle?" Dylan whispers through clenched teeth, this time further away from you. So you were right, it's trying to imitate human speech, but you wonder why it's calling to its mother. You don't have time to answer as a massive figure begins to break through the mist, and you hold your gun tightly, raising it so that the barrel points straight at what you assume is the creature's head.
But you freeze up as soon as the thing reveals itself. The monster is incredibly tall, it reaches to the middle of one of the pine trees and you estimate it to be about two meters in height. It is dragging its arms on the ground, massive hands with dirty nails pointing up towards its pale and bony palms, and its head is tilted to the side, in a childlike manner.
Sunken and completely hollow eyes with a single silver dot are staring directly at you, the toothless mouth is open wide, creating an oval shape in which you can’t see anything other than an empty void, while distorted boyish cries are coming from the deepest parts of its throat.
Worst of all, you finally understand what Lawrence and Dylan were saying. It has copied the appearance of a young ginger boy, but because its body is so large and deformed, it looks as if it has stretched an image of what you assume to be Kyle and plastered it onto its body.
The skin is ghostly pale and looks pulled and torn, its hair is a mangled mess with various bald spots revealing a fleshy black interior, and its "clothes" look painted over and reveal a thin torso with paper-thin skin that closely exposes a skeleton with way too many bones for you to count. It twitches unnaturally as it just stands there, looking at you while begging for his mother without moving.
You can't begin to comprehend what the hell is in front of you. It doesn't feel real, the lack of sound around you, the intense fog, and the imagery make it feel like you're in a lucid nightmare. But you're brought back to reality when you realize that Dylan is still behind you, crying softly as he stares at the mockery of his friend's image. "Run on the count of three, okay?" you don't take your eyes off the creature.
"One," your body's facing forward, you move your dominant leg a step back, both feet planted firmly on the ground as you aim the barrel to hit right between the monster's eyes. It doesn't move, only keeps twitching and wailing in a deep tone.
"Two," you steady your body and take a deep breath as your finger hugs the trigger. Behind you, Dylan prepares to run. Once he's gone, the moonlight will be your only guide during the fight. Your heart beats faster as you take one last breath...just get this over and you’ll go home…
"THREE!" without wasting a second, you squeeze the trigger and fire, a flash of bright light shooting from the barrel and the bullet lodging deep inside the creature's head. The sound of the gun being fired echoes through the forest and you swear you can hear birds flying from the trees and some of the sound comes back. Dylan has already started to run, straight ahead as you instructed.
The shot sends the monster reeling a few steps back, but in retaliation, it lets out a distorted roar so loud it makes your eyes vibrate with pain. You don't let that deter you, though, as you load the second bullet into the chamber and prepare to fire at the creature's chest, right where you think its heart is. Unfortunately, it recovers rather quickly and stands up shakily before charging at you like a bull, swinging one of its gigantic arms in your direction.
You're able to dodge the attack, but the limb is so heavy that as soon as it hits the ground, the force knocks you to the ground and the weapon almost slips from your grasp. Luckily, you hold on tight, but the creature is relentless, one of its clawed hands grabs your right ankle, its sharp, bone-like claws digging easily into your flesh, tearing some of the skin. You grunt loudly, your teeth clenched as tears sting your eyes, but you aim the gun at the creature's shoulder and fire.
As the bullet connects with the skin, the monster screeches and painfully removes its claws from your ankle, nursing its new injury instead. You back away as fast as you can, grunting in pain and after a considerable distance, you do your best to stand up, limping slightly as you plant your feet firmly on the ground and load another bullet.
And you fire the third one.
And the fourth.
And the fifth.
“Won’t you just die already!?” you scream in frustration, fear and paranoia seeping into your mind as you watch the monster rise from the ground once more, five small holes in different parts of its body spilling a tar-like liquid onto the grass, staining it. It's almost invincible, no matter how many bullets you fire, it seems to do nothing but temporarily stun it and make it scream horribly.
You jump to the side as the monster charges forward again, but it miscalculates and runs straight through the tree instead. The impact is so powerful that it leaves a massive hole in the trunk, but it is temporarily stuck there; as it struggles to free itself, you waste no time finding its ankle and stomping down as hard as you can.
You almost fall forward...you did not expect its bones to be so fragile. But you almost rejoice in pure happiness as you've found its weak spot; it seems that physical actions are more effective. So you don't stop, kicking and punching with all your might as your limbs easily leave dents and holes in the monster's body. Your hands and boots are covered in the slimy dark substance, but you don't care, you're not going to die here.
In your angry tirade, you fail to notice that the creature is now free of the trunk. It turns, an arm swinging violently, making contact with the side of your torso, sending you flying to the other side of the clearing, where you crash hard into another tree, the air escaping your body as your lungs burn from the pain and your back cracks loudly.
Tears cloud your vision as the monster walks toward you, its actions mimicking a predator that has finally caught its meal. Your hands desperately search your surroundings for your weapon, but as you cough violently, you realize that the weapon has been crushed under the creature's weight on the other side of the clearing. “Oh fuck,” you mutter as the creature stands before you and wastes no time reaching down, its claws digging into your neck as it lifts you into the air.
You struggle to free yourself, your throat slowly crushed under the monster's grip, as something cold and plastic digs into the side of your hip. The Taser! As dark spots begin to fill your vision and your lungs burn, your hand reaches for your belt, unlatches the holster, and shakily pulls the device out.
Your scratched thumb quickly locates the switch and flips it on, and with all your might you jam the probes against the monster's skin and squeeze the trigger. As the volt of electricity coursed through the thing's insides, it let out a blood-curdling scream before dropping you to the ground. The pain is so great for the creature that it falls to the ground, rolling on its wrist.
But even though your world is spinning and you want nothing more than to throw up and fall asleep, you push through the pain and stand up shakily as you sprint to the monster and mercilessly stomp on its head, its skull cracking against your sole and the grass. You keep going, even when there's nothing left but a messy pile of mush and the tar-like substance, you don't stop.
You want this thing dead. Gone. Fuck whatever this thing is.
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RW: *sighs* For God’s sake, these kids and their pranks.
CS: Please… help me…
RW: Hello? Ma’am, what’s the address of your emergency?
CS: Trantow Fields, house 131 in Gravity Falls. I’m Caroline Simmons and I-I need police here… Just, please, hurry. *distant door banging*
RW: *typing* Alright, and what’s the emergency?
CS: *rapid breathing* It’s my husband… I don’t know what’s happening… Oh God- *distant clatter* *a male voice screaming*
RW: Police are on their way, ma’am. Tell me what’s happening.
CS: I-I don’t know… he’s gone insane… he was fine this mornin’, s-sick with a bug but he was his chipper self. But-
JS: *distant shout* CAROLINE! LET ME OUT, SWEETIE!
RW: Ma’am, are you in a safe place?
CS: *hyperventilating* Y-Yes! I barricaded the bedroom, where he’s at… *heavy breathing* I-I locked myself in the kitchen. *crying*
RW: Ok. Take a deep breath, ma’am. Police are around five minutes away from where you are. Keep walking me through what happened.
CS: *heavy breathing* S-Sorry… I… I woke up to him holding a knife… h-he… he… *distant hurried banging* he tried to stab me… H-He had crazy eyes… his mouth was bleedin’, I think he bit his lip too hard… *loud crash*
CS: Oh my God… h-he broke the door… HE BROKE THE DOOR! SOMEBODY! SAVE ME!
RW: Ma’am, you need to calm down. Take a deep breath. Is your husband still armed?
CS: No… I took the knife from him. Oh my God… what happened to my Jeremy? *crying*
RW: Ma’am, take a deep breath. Police are close.
CS: *whispering* *hyperventilating* I think he’s downstairs… I-I can hear him… *footsteps grow louder*
RW: Ma’am, remain calm.
CS: *heavy breathing* *loud distant footsteps*
CS: *soft knocking* *muffled bizarre breathing*
JS: Caroline? Honey, it’s me… There’s something wrong… I don’t know what’s happening to me…
CS: *crying* Jeremy… Please don’t hurt me…
JS: Sweetie, I need you to open the door, please…
RW: Ma’am, do not open the door. Police are close.
CS: *hysterical crying* YOU’RE NOT MY JEREMY!
JS: Caroline, I know you’re scared, but please, I need you to open the door.
CS: *hysterical crying*
JS: Darling? Do you remember our wedding vows where I promised to always protect you?
CS: *crying* Y-Yes, I-I remember.
JS: I can’t protect you if the door’s closed… So please, open it. I want to see you.
CS: *sniffling* *heavy breathing* *phone clatters on the floor*
RW: Ma’am, do not open the door… Hello?
CS: Please… Jeremy, love, don’t hurt me. *kitchen door opens*
JS: I’m so sorry for scaring you, darling. *distorted breathing*
CS: …
RW: Ma’am? Are you there? Hello?
*Call is abruptly disconnected*
══════════════════
ROADKILL COUNTY SHERIFF'S OFFICE
Transcript of 911 distress call
10/2/1980 - 1:27 A.M.
────────────────────────
EK: Elmer Kain, Dispatcher.
DM: Dylan Moss, Victim.
LW: Lawrence Woodworth, Victim.
KB: Kyle Baker, Victim.
UM: Unidentified Male.
────────────────────────
EK: 911, what’s your emergency?
DM: HOLY SHIT! FINALLY! WE NEED AN AMBULANCE! HURRY!
EK: Sir, remain calm, what’s your location?
DM: W-W-We are at a… *heavy breathing* fuck, sorry, at Gravity Falls High School! Please hurry, somebody’s bleeding to death!
LW: *distant* Kyle, do not fall asleep!
EK: *typing* An ambulance is on its way. Walk me through what’s happening.
DM: W-We were working on a f-final project and was g-getting late so we went to drop our friend Kyle at his house! B-But this fucking thing... it just- *crying*
LW: *distant* S-Something came out of the forest and tore K-Kyle’s stomach out!
EK: Were you able to catch sight of what it was?
DM: *crying* We don’t know! I-It was too f-fucking dark… I… we… I’m so fucking scared!
LW: *distant* I-It looked human, but it… it wasn’t human? I-I don’t know! It had huge claws!
KB: *coughing* * groaning in pain*
EK: What’s the current state of your friend?
DM: *crying* H-He’s breathing but his stomach is just… gone… it’s like a… *retches*... pile of mush o-on the floor. *retches*
EK: Take a deep breath… are you applying pressure to the wound?
DM: *crying* I-I’m so scared…
LW: *distant* W-We are! We tied m-my hoodie and I-Im’ pressing on it but he’s getting paler!
KB: *coughing* I want my mom…
DM: *crying* H-Hold on, man. H-Help is on the way…
EK: The ambulance is five minutes away, keep applying pressure. Do not hang up the phone.
DM: *branches and leaves snapping* *distant footsteps* … what the fuck?
LW: *distant* DYLAN! LOOK AT THE FUCKING FOREST!
DM: … Kyle? But… he’s right here… what?
EK: What’s happening?
KB: *distant coughing* *crying* Mom…
LW: *distant* GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM US!
EK: Hello? What’s going on?
DM: *distant footsteps* Holy shit… it’s… I… it’s Kyle, but… Kyle’s also… bleeding on the floor.
EK: What? I don’t quite understand.
UM: *distorted crying* Mom…
LW: *distant* FUCK! WHAT DO WE DO!?
DM: I DON’T KNOW! HELP… PLEASE!
UM: *distorted crying* I want my mom…
EK: What’s happening? Dylan?
DM: *incoherent screams* *distorted roar*
*Call is abruptly disconnected*
══════════════════
ROADKILL COUNTY SHERIFF'S OFFICE
Transcript of 911 distress call
10/2/1980 - 1:33 A.M.
────────────────────────
KJ: Keneth Jarvis, Dispatcher.
TB: Tabitha Roberts, Victim.
UF: Unidentified Female.
────────────────────────
KJ: 911, where’s your emergency?
TB: *distant glass tapping* Hello? My name is Tabitha Roberts, I live on Oakley Road, house 28 in Gravity Falls. I need the cops.
KJ: Alright miss, what’s the emergency?
TB: *distant glass tapping* Someone… no, scratch that, something is trying to break into my house.
KJ: *typing* Uh, sorry… I’m a bit confused by your statement. “Something” is trying to break in?
TB: *distant glass tapping* I… I just don’t even know how to describe it. I got home from work about twenty minutes ago when I heard something banging on my backyard door.
KJ: Uh-huh.
TB: *distant glass tapping* I opened the curtains and… well… you’re definitely not going to believe this but… something that looks like me is trying to smash the glass and come in.
KJ: … Pardon?
TB: *distant glass tapping* I know it sounds insane but you have to believe! The weird part is that it looks like me but at the same time, there’s something wrong… I can’t place it… I think it’s the eyes… the skin looks loose…
KJ: Uh… O-Ok miss, a unit has been dispatched to your place, please stay on the line. Are you in a safe place?
TB: *distant glass tapping* No, I’m in the living room, it’s the only place where I have a landline. I’m staring at the… thing… Jesus Christ, it doesn’t even fucking blink!
TB: *distant glass banging* *sound of glass cracking* Oh God… the glass… it has a crack…
KJ: Miss?
TB: *distant glass banging* FUCK! IT’S BREAKING THE GLASS!
KJ: Miss, remain calm. Do you have a place where you can hide?
TB: *glass breaks* FUCK! HELP ME! PLEASE! IT’S COMING AT ME!
KJ: Miss, find a place to hide, police are on their way.
TB: *incoherent screams* *glass and furniture breaking* GET OFF ME!
KJ: Miss, what’s going on?
TB: *something is smashed against the ground* …
KJ: Miss Tabitha? Is everything alright?
TB: … *footsteps*
KJ: Hello? Miss Tabitha?
UF: *distorted* Hello? My name is Tabitha Roberts, I live on Oakley Road, house 28 in Gravity Falls. I need the cops.
Masterlist: The End is Near (Gravity Falls x Reader)
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Summary: On October 2, 1980, a series of 911 calls from Gravity Falls were placed to the Roadkill County Sheriff's Office in the early morning hours, reporting the appearance of doppelgangers and loved ones suddenly turning violent.
Unfortunately, you just happen to arrive on the same hellish day as the brand-new detective who was transferred from the capital to fill the empty sheriff's office.
Notes:
Fiddleford H. McGucket is single in this one.
At the beginning of each chapter, there will be a warning if there's any graphic content.
She watched his triangular form through the cameras, he hadn’t moved or blinked in about an hour, he was just toying with the safety scissors he had stolen from the Crafts room. She felt a tinge of regret after locking him away into maximum security, perhaps there were other ways of healing him…
Dr. Prismatis sighed and picked up her communicator, “Hello, guards… Will you please bring Mr. Cipher to my office? Thank you very much.”, she sighed and set the communicator down, propping her elbows on the table and setting her chin on her palm.
After a few minutes of waiting, the doors slid open and two guards held Bill behind them, “Here he is, ma’am.”, the taller of the two said as they sat Bill down, the shorter one spoke up, “Do you need us to stay inside?”
The Luminara shook her head, “We’ll be fine on our own, you two may step out…”, the guards nodded and left the room, leaving Bill and Dr. Prismatis alone.
She took off her glasses and set them on the table, “Bill, I’d like to be frank with you…”, she began. Bill, who had seemed catatonic until just then, piped up and chuckled, “Frank? I thought your name was Ethara.”
Dr. Prismatis just frowned and Bill sunk in his chair. She sighed and shook her head, “I’ve tried everything with you… The walls in your room are covered in motivational posters, for Axolotl’s sake! I managed to cure PHEN-228 but I cannot seem to better you.”
Bill just whined a little bit, “Am I gonna move into isolation or what..?!”, he asked in a bit of panic. She shook her head to that, however, “No, Bill… Look, Axolotl and I discussed various techniques to better you. We decided on one that would work best and, well…”
She seemed to falter for a bit, Dr. Prismatis looked away and rubbed her hand. Bill looked at her and frowned, “Well, what?”, he asked a bit urgently.
She sighed and looked at him, “We decided on forgiveness.”, she said. Bill stared at her dumbfounded and he couldn’t help but start to laugh, “REALLY?! THAT’S THE SOLUTION TO ALL MY PROBLEMS!? Oh, doc! Oh oh! Oh, you’re a real kidder!”
The Luminara went from concerned to slightly annoyed, she sighed and deadpanned, “Do you even know what this method entails?”
Bill giggled, “Oh, lemme guess! I have to write a ‘heartfelt’ apology, film it, and then send it to all my enemies?”, he asked, his question followed by a loud laugh. Dr. Prismatis sighed and stood up gazing out her window, “This method is simple. We’ll send you to the INTACT area where you caused the most trouble and you will work for your rehabilitation… I’ll check in now and then to make sure your process is working.”, she explained sternly.
Bill rolled his eye and crossed his arms, “Yeah? And where exactly where I go, smarty? I’ve caused chaos in many places, y’know!”, he said with a huff, she narrowed her eyes at him, “That’s not something you should be proud of, Bill.”
She then clasped her hands and looked at him, “You will be going to Earth.”
Bill shot up and stared at her wide-eyed, “WHAT?!”
“I know it may not be the place you want to be in but… It’s the only other method anyone can think of for you.”, she said calmly, placing her prism-like hand on Bill’s back.
“Trust me, Bill… As your Head Doctor, I will never put you in a failing situation.”, she promised and Bill almost banged his face against the edge of her desk, “I’m gonna cry on you, doc.”
Dr. Prismatis opened a portal and gently nudged Bill over, “Don’t worry, Bill…”, she then pushed him inside.
Bill screamed at the top of his… lungs? Well, he screamed loud, that’s for sure.
Before he knew it, he hit the floor. Bill groaned loudly against the grass and sat up, he spat out some grass that had gotten on his tongue- wait what.
Bill paused, “Since when do I have a mouth?”, he asked himself. He looked down to see a pair of tan hands that belonged to... HIM?!
“WHAT THE HELL?!”, he yelled as he began to run his hands over himself. Slight muscle, messy hair, a scar that was a little too similar to the one he had thanks to that oaf Stanley Pines… And a lazy eye mimicking the fact that he was one-eyed before.
He immediately checked to see if he was naked. And thank god, he wasn’t.
Whatever Dr. Prismatis did, she gave a simple outfit: a baggy shirt, shorts, and sandals. “Wow… Couldn’t even give me something fancy, huh? Cheap woman.”
He stood up on slightly wobbly legs, using a nearby tree for support. He heard distant voices and frowned, “What the hell… Where even am I?”
He sniffed the air and looked at the trees, it was all too familiar… Oh my.
Did that stupid doctor put him back into his hunting grounds?! Oh, this was golden.
Bill grinned wickedly and cracked his knuckles, “Oh this is going to be golde-” “Cipher?”
Bill warily turned around to face whoever just correctly guessed his name, and there was only one person who had the balls to call him by his last name.
He came face to face with a shocked Stanford Pines.
The older man immediately scowled and spoke to him with noticeable venom, “Stanley killed you. He lost most of his memories thanks to you. And all of a sudden you show up in a new form?!”
Bill rolled his eye and held his hands up, “Relax Sixer… I’m only here because my doctor said so. If it was up to me, I’d be in The Bahamas! Hey, maybe Area 51 too…”, he was met with the barrel of some freaky gun to the nose.
“You won’t be going anywhere, Cipher. I will not allow you to wreak havoc across my home ever again.”, Ford said sternly and loaded his gun. He was quickly interrupted by Bill though.
“Well, will you let me finish?! Jeez, Sixer… Did your mom ever teach you any manners? And don’t lie to me, I know damn well she did.”, Bill said as he pushed the gun away, “I’m not here to cause chaos or anything, my doctor kicked me here.”
Ford paused and lowered his gun, “Your… doctor? What the hell are you saying?!”, he asked and Bill groaned. “UGH. STANFORD FILBRICK PINES, YOU UTTER DUNCE.”, the demon yelled and almost pulled his own hair out.
He took a deep breath and then groaned a bit, “Stupid heat… Say, Sixer? Mind if I coop up in that shack of yours from this torturous temperature?”, Bill asked as he wiped his sweat and scoffed, “My flesh bag is queasy…”
Ford looked at him, “Are you insane, Cipher?!”, he asked loudly. “Yeah, very.”, Bill giggled but then shut up when Ford glared at him. Bill huffed, “Alright, what’s the ish?”
“You tried to kill me and my family and you think I’m going to let you inside my house?!”, he asked angrily, and Bill huffed with annoyance, “Look, IQ. I was a little too violent but where else will I stay?”
Ford was conflicted. On one hand, he was letting none other than Bill Cipher into his home — his safe space, the only place he was ever safe from Bill’s claws… But then again, he had his lab there, and he had Bill here…
Ford sighed, “Under one condition, Cipher.”, he said firmly. Bill perked up and leaned close, “Yeah?!” Ford leaned away and sighed deeply, “You will be my experiment. You’ve been my greatest mystery, Cipher… I have to study you.”
Bill blinked and grinned a bit, “Sounds promising~”, he said with a chuckle but immediately yelped when Ford grabbed his wrist and yanked him along aggressively, “HEY WATCH IT!”
EARTH
GRAVITY FALLS, OREGON
Mabel and Dipper were in the shack. Mabel was currently doodling in her notebook while Dipper was reading a random book. Dipper frowned and looked up, “Hey, [Name]? What language is the Voynich Manuscript in?”
[Name] looked up from the floor he was mopping and furrowed his brows, “...The what..?”
The door slammed open and the three all jumped. In came Ford hauling a squirming Bill, “LET GO OF ME, SIXER. YOUR FINGERS ARE ALL OVER MY FLESH STICKS.”
Mabel raised a brow, “Flesh sticks?”
Dipper looked up, “Sixer? Wait… BILL?!”
Stanford sighed, “Calm down, children! …Oh hello, [Name].”, Ford greeted the taller man. [Name] sighed and waved, “I’m not even gonna ask…”
“Anyways… Children, this is indeed Bill Cipher. Worry not though! He’s weak.”, Bill shot him an offended glare, “I am not weak!”
Ford raised a brow, “Yeah? Burn me.”, Bill flushed up and glared at him, “I’m going to scalp you while you sleep, brainiac.”
Dipper immediately flailed, “GRUNKLE FORD IT’S BILL CIPHER HOW ARE YOU SO CALM!?”, he asked urgently. Bill laughed and leaned close, “Hey kid, no hard feels! I’m here thanks to therapy! I’m a healed man!”
Dipper looked at him questioningly and held Mabel close. Mabel hummed but smiled a tiny bit, “Well… According to Uncle Henry, therapy is the best medicine… Sooo…”, Dipper chewed on his bottom lip, “And how do you think Uncle Henry would react if we told him a space demon god got therapy?”
“...He’d probably laugh at us until he passed out.”, Mabel rubbed her arm. “But look at him! Does his face look like the face of a man who would hurt us?”
Dipper took one look at Bill and then at Mabel, “Absolutely, yes.”
Mabel looked over at [Name] and gave him puppy eyes. The janitor rubbed his eyes, “What do you want me to say, Starlight? I don’t even know this man.”, Bill got a little too into [Name]’s personal space, “Well I certainly know YOU, big guy!”
[Name] looked at him and chuckled, “You’re a weirdo, guy…”
“Anyways, I’m clocking out. Good luck…”, [Name] walked away and left the shack. Ford sighed and dragged Bill into the lab.
“We’ll need some explaining…”, Mabel muttered.
═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════
The lab was as dark and humid as Bill had recalled.
“Soooo, who was the big cleaner guy? He looked hot.”, Bill giggled as he looked around. Ford sighed and sat down at his desk, “That’s [Name]. He’s a sweet young man and I want you far away from him.”
Bill rolled his eye and looked around, “Why? Cuz I’ll ‘hurt him’?”, he asked and Ford nodded. “Precisely, I don’t want you trying to bring him any harm nor do I need you corrupting him.”, he said sternly as he took out some equipment.
“Now hold still, Cipher.”
═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════
[Name] was about to leave the workshop. He counted his personal belongings; cellphone, wallet, house and car keys, thermos… Shit, he forgot his jacket at the Mystery Shack.
He drove back to the Mystery Shack, windows rolled down so the cool summer night air could calm his tired mind. He pulled into the parking lot and got out of his car, going into the gift shop and looking around.
He saw a certain blonde man laying flat on the floor. He came up to him and knelt beside him, “Hello?”, he raised a brow.
Bill turned over and furrowed his brows, he was bandaged and slightly bruised… What the hell happened while [Name] was gone?
[Name] looked at him, “You okay?”, Bill just huffed, “No.” [Name] tilted his head as a wordless way to ask ‘why?’. Bill sighed a bit and sat up, “It was Sixer… He poked and prodded at me for like an hour.”
He then realized [Name] didn’t even know who he was. Bill looked away and rubbed his healthy eye, “No worries though. I’m tired, however.”, his usual enigmatism and flashiness was really low.
“Oh, do you sleep here?”, [Name] asked and Bill shrugged. The [Hair Color] haired male sighed and shook his head, “Well, I don’t know your story but… I’m here for you if you need anything.”
A weird tingly feeling grew in Bill’s chest and he looked at him, he laughed slightly and stood up, “No need! But uh… Thanks for the offer, uh…?”
“Oh. [Name]. [Name] [Last Name]. And you?”, he held his hand out and Bill’s breath hitched, “Bill…”
He gingerly shook [Name]’s hand, he couldn’t help but marvel and the size difference. [Name] smiled charmingly and pulled away, “Well, sleep tight, Bill… See ya.”
[Name] grabbed his jacket and left the gift shop.
Bill stared at the closed door and hummed, “Oh, I’m so screwed.”
═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════
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You awoke while the night sky was still dark, gray clouds blending together as they covered the round silver moon. Your skin feels cold to the touch, and the tips of your fingers are numb from the freezing weather.
As your teary eyes scan your surroundings, a vague feeling of disappointment combined with dread grips your heart. Despite everything you experienced the day before, a small voice in your brain had convinced you this was a dream. A bad nightmare, fueled by stress and sleep deprivation from your insomnia, had created this elaborate and fucked-up scenario.
Unfortunately, the small blades of grass that prickle your back tell you that you're still trapped in this world with no way to go back to your home.
Feeling the sleepiness leave your body, you groan as the bones of your stiff back crack loudly as you stretch your arms above your head, and like a chain reaction, your movements inadvertently wake your other two roommates who were snoring soundly next to you.
Fígaro is the first to open his eyes, slowly removing his right hand that had accidentally landed on your stomach while tossing and turning in his sleep. Man, he moves a lot. While he sleepily runs a hand through his tangled locks, Yuuken rises next to him, some dry leaves and twigs stuck into his hair as he rubs his eyes using his fist. “Mornin',” he grumbles with a yawn, and you both reply with an incoherent string of words along the same greeting.
You kick off the heavy sheet; your skin feels sticky and oily from exposure to the dirt and the ungodly heat emanating from Fígaro. “Somebody has the time?” the Finnish man mutters beside you, turning to his side as he snuggles further into the pillow. Yuuken drowsily stares into the distance, ignoring the conversation. “I’ll go check,” you reply with a yawn.
Your legs feel like jelly as you get up and wobbly make your way to the Ramshackle dormitory to check the hour ticking away on the miraculously still-alive wall clock you found yesterday during your “cleaning” spree. As you grumpily open the dilapidated door, you encounter three particularly annoying faces.
“Ooooooh, good morning, child!” the chubby ghost greets you happily, the other two semi-invisible dumbasses behind him giggling annoyingly as if the prank they were playing was so hilarious. Too tired to argue with them, you push past the cold figures and squint to see the clock hands moving behind the dirty, yellowed broken glass. 4:18 a.m. Well, at this point it might be best to just start the day… you highly doubt you’ll be able to go back to sleep.
“Awwww, leaving so soon, friend? We hope you come back alive! The dust misses you,” mocking laughter echoes through the rotten walls as you leave the house without looking back, you feel something pulsing in your brain trying to give you an unnecessary headache. You’ll deal with the ghosts when you return, for now, it’s best to get a move on.
The howling wind from last night has died down to a light breeze, but the temperature has dropped considerably, as little puffs of warm steam leave your mouth with every breath you take. Judging by the dead leaves littering the ground and the bare branches, this place is either in the middle of autumn or approaching winter.
Unfortunately, as you return to your makeshift campsite and feel the sharp wind cut against your skin, you're made painfully aware of the lack of sweaters, as your world was still in the middle of summer when you were abducted. Shivering from the cold, Yuuken steals the blanket that was lying on the ground, wrapping himself in the fabric to protect himself from the air. Fígaro doesn't seem to mind the temperature, lying in a star position while looking at the sky.
At this point, it's best to start the morning routine.
So the three of you unanimously decide to check the “lost and found” first for any kind of warm clothing or other items that might help you get through the next few days. Since Crowley covers food and water, you suggest using your first paycheck to buy some underwear, toiletries, and maybe some cleaning supplies. You want to avoid repeating the events of the previous day and be able to sleep comfortably in a bed without worrying about bugs or dirt.
Fígaro adds, with a yawn, that to speed up the process of getting more money, it would be wise to sell any valuables you have with you, such as jewelry and watches, unless they have some sentimental value. You gently nudge the Kendo student walking sleepily beside you, pointing out the sad expression on the Finnish man's face as he stares at his decorated fingers.
Though you and Yuuken quickly intervened that he shouldn't feel pressured to sell his valuables, the blond man simply shrugged you off, having already taken off most of his jewelry except for a silver ring with a small chalcedony stone that sits on his index finger.
“Thank you for your concern, both of you, but most of these were from sponsored merchandise or gifts from acquaintances. This is the only piece that is very precious to me,” he whispers as he lovingly looks at the ring. Without much thought, you step forward and deposit any loose jewelry that you had little to no attachment to, only keeping a black leather wristwatch that you bought with your first salary.
While it hurts to sell what had been hours of part-time work, at this point surviving and seeing your family and friends are the only thoughts that drive your decision. Yuuken seems to think so too, as he drops a sterling silver thumb ring on the pile.
Fígaro stores the jewelry in a well-worn cross-body bag he found in one of the sheets the ghost had used to prank him the night before. It had seen better days, with pieces of fabric torn off in various places and several indentations on the black leather straps from stress. Although the blond man complains about the quality, he insists that it will work. He gives you a small smile before gently ushering you to continue your path.
The rest of the way is quiet, except for a few yawns and some brief but awkward banter. Back inside the huge building, you lead your two roommates to the library, remembering the twists and turns on the map you examined yesterday.
You highly doubt that you'll be able to find so many clothes or useful materials in there, after all, the "lost and found" is usually a big cardboard box that the secretary sticks under the desk, right?
You were dead wrong.
As the friendly ghostly librarian led you through the room where the bookcases were so high you swore they touched the roof, the last thing you expected to find was a utility closet labeled “lost and found”. Even more impressive was the fact that every single shelf in there was filled to the brim with various items.
“Feel free to take anything. Most of these articles have been in here for over a year and no one has come to claim them. I'm sure you'll make good use of them!” with a cheerful farewell, the sweet ghost disappears, leaving the three of you staring at the room with open mouths and owlish eyes.
“Well then, let’s give these things a good home,” Fígaro states as your hands and fingers begin to dig through the shelves, picking out various items, examining them, and either taking them or putting them back in their place. You're able to find four sweaters in good condition that could help protect you from the cold.
You end up taking other items like a scarf, a (surprisingly) clean water bottle and a thermos, a portable sewing kit that was missing a few threads and needles, and a small fiction book. But the most valuable item of all, and the one that you could hardly believe had not been claimed by anyone to this day, was a tablet with a shabby charger attached to it.
“I call dibs!” you announce quickly before grabbing the rectangular device, feeling like a gremlin as you chuckle mischievously and eye it like a piece of gold. Yuuken lets out an “aw” behind you, disappointed that you beat him to it, while Fígaro gives you a dirty look, questioning your behavior before shaking his head with a chuckle. “I think we’re good, I don’t know what else to take,” the Kendo student mutters under his breath while doing one last look over the shelves.
“If we’re missing something, we’ll make a mental note and return here. But, we should get a move on, or else we won’t have time for breakfast,” you indicate while gazing out of a nearby window, observing as the twilight merges with the sunny colors of the sky. “Goodness… let’s first head to the showers.”
As you hurriedly leave the library, Yuuken and you exchange some jokes while Fígaro quietly laughs at your childish banter. You fail to notice a pair of green eyes curiously examining you from the dark. Again.
You’re absolutely, 100% sure that what you’re currently doing is illegal.
This has to violate some type of law, right? You're well aware that Crowley could potentially be sued for violating child labor laws, especially since even though you're 17, your parents have to sign a contract and the crow can only make you work a certain amount of hours.
Also, even though you have some first aid certifications, you don't have a medical permit to work, much less administer medication. Holy crap, you don't even have supervision! What if you screw up?
Well, the headmaster of this institution didn't give a damn, because after showing you how to work the system, he gave you a comforting pat on the shoulder and quickly left the infirmary.
You feel a little nervous as you’re left alone in the office, but you lift your spirits as you promise to do your best to take care of the students.
And here you are. The warm, bitter liquid touches your lips as your fingers type away on the tablet’s screen, opening a new email account. It's a moment of peace since you began your shift, and by God, you never imagined how reckless some students at this place could be. You expected them to be more rowdy than usual for an all-boys school, but treating over twenty different injuries in four hours is a cause for concern.
It started pretty normal, with headaches and scraped knees that weren't that big of a deal. Just some medicine and a note to rest and avoid exercise for the day. Then it went up a notch when two students in white and red suits stormed into the infirmary, holding their hands as they'd suffered first-degree burns while making tea. All that was needed was to place the reddened skin under cool water, apply and prescribe petroleum jelly, and bandage the wound.
And then it got weird.
A boy had crashed into a tree while riding his broom and required help removing the splinters. Then, two students were suffering from the effects of a faulty spell and needed to be prescribed a special concoction (thank whatever deity for the digital medical encyclopedia installed in the infirmary's computer). Another student was accidentally turned into a monster during a fight, and you had to subdue the creature until the spell wore off.
And now, you're currently dealing with a person who has contracted "fisherman’s fever" from a failed experiment performed in potionology class.
The device in your hand vibrates as a shrill but catchy tune plays over the speakers, indicating the timer is up. You place the dark green ceramic coffee mug that has the cringeworthy inscription "Adulting is hard AF" on the white desk and take a look at the potion brewing in the glass pot.
According to the medical encyclopedia, to treat the disease, the scales that appear on the person's skin must be delicately removed using a sharp object. Then, to cure the internal effects such as the transformation of human blood into cold blood and the appearance of gills, the person must drink a special tea made with a bizarre combination of ingredients three times a day for a week.
You sigh softly, the scent of mint and mandrake permeating the air as the rays of the morning sun stream in through the window, adding some color to the gray infirmary. As your weary eyes watch a series of hot bubbles appear and quickly burst at the inner corners of the pot, you grab the metallic spatula spoon and carefully stir the liquid, which has taken on a muted cyan hue. A voice behind you coughs, drawing your attention, but you keep your gaze on the tea.
“Is he going to be okay?” the student's friend, whose name you learned is Kyle Blackwood, asks from the side of the bed, worried eyes watching his friend's tanned skin turn an awful shade of pale green.
After straining and then pouring the scalding liquid into a ceramic mug, you approach the stiff bed, avoiding the metal bucket on the side with the remnants of the shiny green scales you removed with a scalpel nearly half an hour ago. You softly nudge the shoulder of Hyde Sage, the sick student, to wake him up from his stupor.
“He'll be fine so long as he doesn't skip his tea. If he gets worse, like his skin turning blue or you see some gills on the side of his neck, take him to a hospital,” you indicate with a stern tone, hoping that the threat of a hospital visit might scare the first year into not skipping the medicine.
Unfortunately, the rumor that you and your roommates are magicless people spread faster than you had expected, as such, some of the students you had attended decided to disobey your instructions, refuting under their breath that what would you know, being from another world and without magic.
You are grateful for your interactions with customer service that you gained from your many part-time jobs. Despite being bad and even traumatic memories, you learned quite a lot on how to deal with stubborn people. This was no exception; instead of giving in to the anger or being intimidated by their comments and mocking grimaces, you kept a neutral expression and listed all the possible side effects of what would happen if they didn’t get their injuries or sickness treated.
Of course, you never lied, after all a small wound can develop into a catastrophic disease. It worked most of the time, their faces turning pale at the large list of infections and illnesses, and they quickly snatched the medicine from your hands, consuming it as fast as they could before they exited the office. Some quietly thanked you, others didn’t say anything.
Other times, when they were particularly argumentative, they were scolded by friends or classmates who brought them into the infirmary, telling them to shut up and just take the pills. You silently thanked them with a small smile, and they returned the gesture with a nod.
As you place the mug on a nearby table, both Hyde and Kyle let out a gasp as their eyes widen at your words. Still, many of the students are relatively nice or are too preoccupied with schoolwork to bother you or deny the treatment, such as the two teenagers sitting in front of you. Sensing their distress, you shake your head, gently patting Hyde's shoulder to ease their panic slightly.
“Don’t worry, it’s a worst-case scenario. Your fever has gone down, and your skin is starting to return to its normal color. Just, make sure to not skip the tea,” your lukewarm fingers gently press against the student’s forehead, a sigh of relief slips past your lips as you feel the earlier fever has subsided. Your free arm slides under his back and pushes, silently instructing him to sit up.
Kyle jumps at the opportunity to help him up as well, fluffing up the pillows and tucking them behind his back to make him more comfortable. As you hand the freshman the hot cup and tell him to be careful, you chuckle to yourself as you watch his nose scrunch up at the strong smell. “Bottom’s up, bud. Unless you want to become a fish.”
Hearing your words, he panics momentarily before judgmentally staring at the rather viscous liquid and bringing it close to his lips. As soon as a drop sneaks past his open mouth and lands on his tongue, Hyde physically recoils, a shiver shakes his shoulders and makes his skin crawl. He almost places the mug down in disgust, but pushes forward, remembering how much a trip to the hospital costs. Kyle gingerly pats his back as a sign of support and comfort.
Meanwhile, you return to the desk, moving your attention to the enormous metal cabinet that houses a variety of pills and medicines. You crouch down and open the compartment underneath, the door sliding open with a loud, unpleasant squeak, giving way to rows of glass bottles of various sizes and other medical paraphernalia.
Your fingers brush gently against the various containers as you calculate how much liquid is left in the pot. After a few seconds of mental calculations and the clatter of glass, you successfully locate and pull out a bottle to store the remaining tea; your ears perk up as you hear the clink of a ceramic object on a table and the rustle of sheets and clothing.
In one swift movement, you uncork the bottle, place the strainer over the opening, and begin to pour the liquid into it with ease. You unconsciously hold your breath as all of your mental concentration is focused on avoiding spilling as much as possible, although a few drops do escape and gently run down the side of the crystal. Two pairs of footsteps approach you as the last few drops of the tea land inside the bottle.
“This should give you 7-8 cups of tea. Drink it at a temperature of 65°C and don't let it cool down, it will lose its effects,” you screw the cap on as tightly as you can to avoid spills and turn around, running into the two students. Hyde's complexion looks much better, and a small smile is now appearing on his face instead of a terrified expression.
Gently, you hand him the bottle and your free hand grabs two small notes you wrote while the tea was boiling. One has a checklist written in blue ink, while the other is a more formal sheet of paper. "Here are the instructions on how to make the tea and this is your excuse to skip the rest of your classes today, deliver it to the headmaster. Then, return to your dorm, set the alarms for your tea, and try to rest today to regain your energy."
Both students nod eagerly at your instructions, gently taking away the notes from your tired hands. You’re relieved to see Hyde in a much better condition than when he arrived, remembering Kyle's panicked yells as he dragged him to the infirmary office. He was limp and couldn’t stop shivering, his skin was clammy and his eyes were constantly rolling to the back of his head. As you dismiss both of them, you’re taken aback when the two of them suddenly bow with big, happy smiles on their faces.
“T-Thank you very much, Mx. (Y/N)!” you scratch your head sheepishly at the way Hyde addresses you, not expecting such a reaction. “Don’t mention it… just doing my job. Also, (Y/N)’s fine. No need to be so formal,” the two return to their original positions before nodding merrily. As they walk towards the door, they wave again, the crimson and yellow ribbons tied to their left arms fluttering slightly as they move.
Soon, the door to the infirmary closes softly, and the office is plunged into a comfortable silence as the footsteps and lively conversation of the Scarabian students fade into the distance. You sigh as you lazily throw yourself onto the swivel chair, which creaks loudly under the sudden weight, and bring your fingers to massage the temples of your forehead.
‘That should be patient number #21… I better fill out the form and get to cleaning if I want to finish opening my accounts.’
Your hands land on the gray keyboard that sits in front of you, several of the letters blurred or missing, showing the constant use of the device. The monitor comes to life as you move the mouse, the cursor hovering over the “+” symbol and opening a new window, displaying an empty patient form. Without wasting a second, your fingers tap out different combinations, forming words to fill the empty boxes.
Time passes; outside, the birds chirp a happy tune and the clouds dance in the sky as you click the “Send” button and a message appears on the screen informing you that the form has been successfully accepted. As you stretch your arms over your head, your bones cracking stiffly, the rectangular device that’s been sitting idle for nearly an hour vibrates and the screen turns on to reveal a new notification.
Beyond satisfying your dire need to consume technology and geek content, the tablet is a key factor in your survival. In an unfamiliar world, where you don't know its customs, let alone its politics, the most important thing you need to do is nourish yourself with information on how to navigate this new labyrinth. Therefore, the moment you reset your device to its factory settings, you opened several accounts on various social media sites.
Strangely enough, many of the sites looked like bootleg copies of the ones you had back at home, right down to the bizarre similar yet different names. You almost burst out laughing when the words “MagiCam” appeared on the screen, immediately understanding what the application should be about. Thankfully, this also meant that you'd be able to navigate it much more easily since the UI was the same as Instagram’s.
In the brief respites of peace you’ve had during your turn, you’ve also understood a little more about how Twisted Wonderland works. Feeling calmer now that you know more about Night Raven College and the island where it resides, you then examined the world map and learned about the various continents of this world and who inhabits them.
You’ve also started to delve deeper into the magic of this world, but the concept still feels rather foreign and confusing, so, you’ve decided to wait until you’re in a calmer environment to pay closer attention to the details. Still, in your opinion, you’ve made good progress, and you make a mental note to share this information with your new roommates when you reconvene at lunch or later in the day.
You throw your head back, and the upper half of your body languidly lies against the chair's comically small backrest. You still feel a bit sore from yesterday's events, even after taking a hot (almost boiling) shower and replicating some of Yuuken's stretches. It also doesn't help that you've been running around for most of the morning.
You're tired... you want to go home.
As you stare blankly at the false ceiling, your mind wanders to the dark places you tried to avoid yesterday...
Will you ever be able to go home? Are your parents okay? Is Momoko okay? How long have you been gone? Does time pass differently here than it does in your world?
... Are you actually dead? This world feels so real, but you can't help but wonder…
Thought after thought flashes through your mind, as the earlier feeling of dread comes back with a biting force, stabbing at your stomach and tearing at your brain, making you feel sick. “Stop,” you silently beg to yourself, wanting the cursed string of detrimental questions to just end. And yet, your inner self continues to produce more and more, completely ignoring your desperate pleas.
Fortunately, you don't get to lose yourself for long as you're jolted awake by a hasty banging on the door to the infirmary. It startled you so much that you nearly fell out of the chair, the tip of your shoe smacking against the underside of the desk, followed by the clanking of glass, reminding you of the dirty dishes you didn’t wash. “D-Doors open!” you stammer with a shaky, feeling your heart pounding against your chest as you wobble out of the chair.
In a matter of seconds, the door opens, and a familiar man with orange hair peers in, his eyes widening in surprise as they fall on your figure. You instantly remember him from the entrance ceremony, a phantom feeling of warmth still lingers on your shoulder.
“The fu-!? H-Hey! Long time no see~!” he attempts to mask his shock with a cheerful tone before opening the door further and standing awkwardly at the entrance. “Um… do you know when the nurse is coming back?”
Without saying a word, you raise your right hand and point your thumb at yourself, swaying slightly back and forth, making the lab coat you wear over your navy blue sweater rustle. “I’m the temporary nurse. Do you need help with something?” even though his face is one of happiness, you notice that he is nervous due to his pale complexion and a slight tremor in his hands.
“O-Oh… Cool! Uh…” the orange-haired man stutters, sticking his head out of the room once more and whispering unintelligible words to someone standing outside. The exchange continues for a few more seconds, each one more confusing. Finally, with a frustrated groan, he returns and opens the door wider. “Sorry for that! We need a consultation!”
A bit weirded out by his behavior, you silently point toward one of the beds, ushering him to enter the room. You hope this consultation will be fast. As he opens the door wider and signals for the other person to come in, you turn around back to the computer and quickly open an application that pulls out a screen showcasing the list of all the students of Night Raven College.
As a precaution, before you can do a consultation or even prescribe medication, you must ensure the student isn’t allergic to any specific ingredients, takes some type of chronic medication, or has any important medical history. That way, you avoid any mishaps and save yourself a possible heart attack and a phone call to the hospital. Thankfully, the school has a nifty medical system that allows you to check for these kinds of things, all you need is a name or ID number.
Behind you, the shuffling of feet and the hushed voices weirded you out even more. ‘What’s up with the secrecy?’ Ah well, time is precious, and you want this consultation to be over quickly, so there’s no point in beating around the bush. With your gaze still focused on the screen, you click on the search bar and speak to the people. “Alright, what’s the name of the patient?”
As the question leaves your lips, a tense silence follows. You suddenly don’t dare to turn around, an uneasy feeling settles itself in the pit of your stomach as you wait for the answers. As the clock on the wall quietly ticks away the seconds that feel like minutes, somebody finally clears their throat and speaks. “Uh… Riddle Rosehearts.”
An eerily familiar voice speaks out, and you promptly turn around to watch a guy with green hair and glasses enter the room, a small and thin arm slung around his broad shoulders. And you feel the world fall apart and tear itself at its core as a head of red hair wobbles beside him, gray, piercing eyes turning to observe, widening at your figure before a recognizable scowl etches at his face.
"What in the Seven's name are you doing here?" fucking great, the last person you wanted to see, the tiny tyrant has come back to torment you again. Was the yelling match of yesterday’s night not enough for him? You take a deep breath, repeating to yourself that you won’t win showing your annoyance; you need to be a professional. Instead, you simply shrug your shoulders, maintaining an apathetic expression.
"Beats me, dude. Ask the crow man, not me," as you quickly type in his name into the application, Riddle scoffs as he’s helped to walk further into the room. "Do not address the headmaster in such a way. Have you not been taught to respect your superiors?" you roll your eyes at his comment, focusing more on his medical profile as he settles in one of the beds. Good, everything seems in order.
You don’t waste much time, reaching over to one of the desk drawers and pulling out a black bag containing a diagnostic kit and a clipboard with an empty consultation form. “I have, thank you very much. But I find it justifiable to insult the man who thought it was a good idea to stick me and the other two inside a dilapidated house,” you reply, slightly irritated as you place the stethoscope around your neck and head over to the bed.
The orange-haired man, whose eyes were intently focused on his phone’s screen, suddenly perks up at the mention of the house. “What!? Are you living in Ramshackle? I thought they were going to demolish that thing,” he mumbles the last part sheepishly as you pull a chair over to where the three men are standing.
The green-haired guy perks up at the name of the dormitory, his worried eyes suddenly landing on you. “How did your night go there?” you glance away from the prying eyes, scratching your cheek as you remember how stiff your back still is. “Awful, we ended up sleeping outside… Anyways, what's up? What are we dealing with?” although the orange-haired man seems more interested in hearing about your night, Riddle interrupts the conversation with a sharp cough.
“I'm completely fine. I just contracted a simple cold,” he remarks nonchalantly, covering his mouth with a gloved fist. However, even though the boy tries to pretend that he's fine, you notice that his chest moves up and down rather quickly, his cheeks are also slightly flushed, and small beads of sweat trickle down the sides of his face.
‘Difficulty breathing... I can cross out asthma, anemia, and anaphylaxis since his allergy chart is clear. A common cold wouldn't have him panting this way unless he overexerted himself with a clogged nose... Hmmm, it could be some kind of respiratory infection, but I need more details…’
Before you can intervene, however, the green-haired man shoots a glare at the housewarden as he angrily crosses his arms, his pose resembling a mother scolding her child. “A simple cold? Riddle, you were puking your guts out just a few minutes ago and you can barely walk!” he reprimands with a frown, and the redhead simply clicks his tongue in frustration. “As I said, I'm fine. It's nothing I can't handle.”
You jot down your observations and the glasses man's comments on the clipboard, nodding quietly as your brow furrows. “Besides the vomiting and shortness of breath,” — you feel slightly insulted as you notice Riddle’s eyes monetarily widen in surprise at your last observation. Man, he thinks you’re not capable, huh? — “Are you feeling any discomfort or other symptoms?” at your question, the housewarden ponders for a few seconds before his hand drops from his mouth. “Just a stomach ache.”
“Is the pain mild or severe?” the man shakes his head, placing a hand on his abdomen to indicate the source of the disturbance. ‘I can also rule out hepatitis at the moment. Seems to be from the core.’ “In between,” you simply hum at his response as you take more notes. “When did the symptoms start?” you finally raise your head to meet him, taking notice that he has difficulty keeping his eyes open.
He takes a deep breath and a hand shoots up to massage his temples. As you’re about to recommend he lays down on the bed and you’re three steps away from dialing Mr. Crewel, he speaks. “A-About two… no, one hour ago. I just feel dizzy. I’m fine,” he keeps repeating the last sentence as if to reassure the people in the room, but honestly, it makes you more nervous.
“Well, it might be a stomach bug rather than a cold. I’ll check your vitals before we move to treatment,” you announce before standing up and silently motioning for Riddle to remove his blazer. As you put on the earpieces of the stethoscope, his shaky and clammy hands pull off the piece of cloth, the glasses man stepping in to help. “Oh, my bad. I didn’t ask for your names.”
The orange-haired man jumps at the opportunity, flashing you a dashing smile as he holds up two fingers to his face, forming a peace sign. “Hey, hey! I’m Cater Diamond, but you can call me Cay-Cay!” he announces cheerfully, winking in your direction. ‘Well, what a charmer.’ You make a mental note not to call him that nickname, you'll just stick with Cater.
You simply wave back as you take a seat in front of Riddle and look in the direction of the green-haired man, who nods at you. “Trey Clover, vice housewarden of Heartslabyul. Good to meet you,” he replies as he flashes a small smile, though his gaze shifts to worry as he looks back at Riddle. An annoyed cough from the tiny tyrant interrupts your greeting.
“If we’re done with idle chatter, I would like to get out of here and return to my duties as soon as possible,” he grumbles as you simply roll your eyes and adjust the stethoscope. “Alright, alright. Take a deep breath,” you command in a toneless voice as you hook a finger around the collar of his shirt and harshly pull down, revealing a patch of milky skin.
A furious blush spreads across Riddle's cheeks as he short circuits for a second, a million thoughts racing through his mind as he feels your lukewarm fingers poking at his chest. He finally comes down to earth as he feels the cold nip at his exposed skin and he swears he feels on fire. “W-What’s wrong with you!? A-A warning would’ve been nice!” he shouts, almost slapping your hand away if it wasn’t for the glare you threw him back.
“Damn, you go, Riddle, getting some action,” Cater quietly giggles as he covers his Cheshire grin using his phone, which causes the housewarden’s face to turn even redder. “Shut it! Say a word of this and I’ll have your head!” the orange hair chokes on his laugh at the last words of the red hair. All of a sudden, the preppy attitude of the man is drained alongside the color from his face, instead, it’s replaced with an awkward laugh as he gingerly scratches the back of his neck.
‘What the hell is that reaction?’ Sure, the phrase elicits a rather daunting reaction from anyone who hears it, but, to pale at such words? That’s quite suspicious, but you frankly don’t want to stick your nose in the business of people who are already aggressive to strangers, especially when it comes to the tiny tyrant. You also don’t have the energy to bother, unless it becomes a bigger issue.
“My bad, sorry. But, you need to calm down or else I won’t be able to measure your heart rate,” you retort between your teeth, drawing Riddle's attention back to you. “Calm down!? Easier said than done! Are you even sure you know what you’re doing?” his booming voice does nothing but irritate you as you tighten your grip on the stethoscope. “Yes, I do. Now, shut up and let me do my job.”
About to respond angrily to your comment when he's stopped by a warm hand patting his shoulder, Trey giving him a small smile as the cold chest piece of the stethoscope touches his skin. The housewarden reluctantly agrees and gives you a nod. “Take a deep breath,” you instruct again in a low voice, listening carefully to Riddle's worryingly slow heartbeats. Each time you hear a “thump”, you draw a line on the clipboard resting on your leg, mentally counting up to fifteen; the entire room holds its breath as you remove the device after a while, your lips tightening as the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach returns with a vengeance.
‘Only 14 beats… this is bad,’ you swallow dryly as you waste no time calculating his heart rate, multiplying the number of beats by four and silently thanking your 12-year-old self for choosing first aid classes over rowing at summer camp. Unfortunately, the fleeting feeling of accomplishment soon fades, replaced by anxiety as you watch the number from the equation over and over again. “Holy shit…”
“Is everything alright?” you accidentally ignore Trey's worried voice, too consumed in your panic, as you run back to the computer and check Riddle's medical profile again. Again, he has no hereditary diseases or disorders, and his allergy chart is empty and clear. His normal heart rate, listed under his blood type, shows he has 75 beats per minute, so why the hell did your calculations show his current heart rate is 58 bpm? That's below average!
‘Is it bradycardia? It could be that he just developed it, but that doesn’t explain the vomiting or rapid breathing… Perhaps he has arrhythmia? Did I make a mistake in my calculations?’ you turn around to address the trio, wincing as you observe a powerful shiver shake Riddle’s body. ‘Whatever it is, I don’t have the proper resources, much less the adequate experience to deal with this.’
The red-haired man irritates you, his attitude is obnoxious, but there’s no way you’re letting him die here. “I’m calling an ambulance. Riddle’s heart rate is worryingly low and his conditioning is worsening. He needs professional attention.”
The three men's eyes widen in pure surprise, the shock is so severe for Riddle that he starts coughing loudly, the green-haired man next to him jumps in fright at the sound, but quickly concentrates on calming him down, gently patting and rubbing his back.
Cater reacts the fastest, shaking his phone with a pale face as he looks at you, terrified. "I'll call them!" he types restlessly on the keypad as you approach the bed to help Riddle get comfortable and calm his reaction.
But strangely, before Cater can even press the call button, a hand shoots up from the bed and rips the phone out of the orange-haired man's hands, causing him to choke on air, startled by the sudden movement.
It was Riddle.
“NO! I’M NOT TAKING ONE STEP IN THERE! I’M COMPLETELY FINE!”
The door opens with a rather loud creak, giving way to an empty office plunged in darkness, the only thing he can see is the mahogany desk illuminated by the silver moon and some pictures depicting the “Great Seven” slowly floating up and down a few meters above the floor.
If someone asked Crowley why his workspace is so austere, the crow would reply, "less is better". It's more professional, cleaner, makes a better impression, and can also be intimidating. But in reality, he rarely uses this space, preferring to work in the office of his subordinate and “close friend,” Divus Crewel.
His office is much more cozy than his, the reduced space and furniture-lined walls can be claustrophobic to some, but to him, it is just perfect. Besides, Crewel's taste in decor and color is trendy yet classy, and the crow man understands why the fashion enthusiast and scholarship science nerd ended up as the Pomefiore dorm leader during his high school years.
Originally, Crewel found it frustrating that the bird man was constantly swinging by to his workplace, already annoyed that he barely had any alone time during the day and then the flamboyant man was invading and working in his personal office.
It started with their papers and files getting mixed up, then Crowley left empty cups and plates strewn around his desk, and the breaking point was when he found the crow man’s mask and coat hanging from his office chair.
Crewel told him to get lost and use his own office.
Crowley offered to double his salary and extend his vacation days in exchange for using his office.
A deal was quickly struck.
And he'd be working there right now if he hadn't been so rudely kicked out by the potionology teacher. A little birdie (Sam) told Crewel that Crowley had placed the magicless kids in the health hazard that is the Ramshackle Dorm.
Crowley's concentration is interrupted when the office door bursts open and Crewel steps in, his fluffy white and black coat nowhere in sight. His eyebrows are furrowed so tightly that they might melt together as he shouts angrily at the headmaster. “Explain to me why, in the name of the Great Seven, you thought it was okay to put these children in that house!?” his screams echo through the room.
“Good evening to you too, Divus,” the man in front of him sneers before slamming the door and walking over to the desk, hands on his hips. “Don’t ‘good evening’ me! Answer the damn question!” the crow man can already feel the headache coming on as his brain pounds at his friend's screams.
“Well, where else was I supposed to put them? I wouldn't let them just walk out of here, this world is very dangerous! You know I'm a very benevolent person,” he mutters the last part with a grin, proud of his actions. On the contrary, Crewel wants to gouge out the crow's beady little golden eyes and slap him across the face. “Benevolent!? Dire, just last week we were talking about tearing that thing down after the ceiling almost collapsed on Trein!”
Ah, he's on a first-name basis now, that’s not good.
“If you feel so bad for them, why don’t you house them, then?” Crowley proudly retorts, finally lifting his gaze from the paperwork, noticing his friend’s flat and unimpressed expression. “I live in a one-bedroom apartment. I’m not about to add three teenagers into the mix and force them to sleep in the sofa bed.”
That's a lie, it was actually a two-bedroom apartment, but he turned the other room into a walk-in closet with a huge mirror... What? He ran out of room for his clothes!
“What about your house? I know you have plenty of space,” Crewel crosses his arms, remembering last year's staff holiday party that Crowley begrudgingly hosted in his home after pulling the short stick from the pile. The crow man scoffs, offended by the idea. “There’s not enough space for the four of us there.”
“Dire, you live in a mansion!” “I value my space!” “And not mine!?”
Crewel sighs, throwing his head back exhausted from this pointless conversation. He fails to understand why his “friend” is so reluctant to give these kids a proper space to live. “Did you tell them that they can get food from the cafeteria? Or to use the gym showers?” Crowley quickly averts his gaze, shyly twiddling his fingers as he remembers the deal. “I… um… well…”
“Crowley,” the potionology teacher warns in a low tone and the crow man can feel the rage that emanates from the man, making him even more nervous to admit what now seems like a really bad idea. “I kinda… told them that… well, that they'd have to work for their food and clothing,” he watches in horror as Crewel goes slack-jawed, the color draining from his face as he processes the sentence. “But! Don’t worry, I’ll give them a good salary and plenty of time to rest!”
He says this as if it were a good solution.
“Child labor!? Crowley, we’re going to get sued!”
“They can’t sue us, they don’t have valid IDs!”
“Not them, the government, you moron!” Oh…
“Well, I'll just draft some contracts to cover our ass, we'll be fine, don’t worry!”
“They're minors, they can't sign them without their parent's permission!”
“One of them is 18! The blonde one... I think…”
“And the other two?”
“Well, if you're so worried about them, why don't you adopt them!?”
“Because, legally, they don't exist in this world! Also, I'm too young for children!”
“You're 32!”
“Shut up! You're older!”
Ah, this conversation is getting nowhere.
Crewel runs his fingers through his hair, completely ruining the hairstyle he spent a few good minutes on this morning. This is bad, terrible, even a disaster! Throughout the entire debacle of the entrance ceremony, he watched from the sidelines in pity as the faces of the three children fell in horror and shock when the mirror declared that their home didn't exist.
He can't imagine it… suddenly being ripped away from your world and thrown into a dimension where your only support system is two strangers close to your age and an idiot headmaster who can't even house you properly while forcing you to work. He gets it, it's expensive enough to maintain this school and repair the walls and hallways from other students' mischief, but...
For the sake of the Great Seven, he lives in a mansion and enjoys a good salary that's close to six figures, so he can spare a few thaumarks! Besides, Crowley can't even use the excuse of “crow-like nature” to take and keep shiny things. That is the behavior of a magpie!
Despite all the talk about "disrespectful puppies" and his desperate need to take a long break from his students, Crewel still loves and cares for them. And these three kids struck a chord with him, reminding him of his childhood.
It was also heartbreaking as he walked by the Ramshackle dormitory and watched the three students cover the lower half of their faces with their shirts as they shook the dust off the blankets and old pillows they were going to sleep on tonight.
The teacher turns to face the headmaster, who has taken his silence as an indication that the conversation is over, and returns to his paperwork, scribbling something unintelligible on the manila pages. Ugh, if only he could get out of his office to think of a solution... Wait a minute! That's it!
“All right, since you're so stubborn and selfish, you can't set foot in my office or talk to me until those kids are sleeping in a safe place and have proper food and clothing!” Crewel grabs the back of Crowley's coat, the crow man gasping in surprise as the teacher tucks the documents that were sprawled on the desk under his arm.
He was going to threaten to quit, but he needs this job. That set of platinum rings his favorite designer released the other day won't pay for itself.
“Wha- Divus, what in the world!?” the door of the office flies open as the headmaster is unceremoniously kicked out into the hallway, a heavy pile of papers shoved hard against his chest, causing him to momentarily lose his breath. “I said what I said... I'm changing the lock on my office as well. Goodbye now.”
As soon as the piece of wood is slammed shut, Crowley snaps out of his stupor and turns to the blocked entrance, papers falling to the floor as he loudly bangs his decorated fists on the door. “DIVUS, I'M SORRY! CAN WE PLEASE TALK!?” a muffled groan interrupts his tantrum, but the potionology teacher does not attempt to get up from his chair and reason with the crow.
Whining and yelling, the headmaster continues to demand entry and a calm conversation, the complete opposite of his current childish behavior. In his stupor, the crow man fails to notice another member of the staff rounding the corner of the antique hallway, the fluffy, chubby cat in his arms yawning sleepily as his golden eyes suddenly focus on the Headmaster.
And his owner gazes horrified at the scene.
“Crowley! What is the meaning of all this shouting!?” the booming voice of Mozus Trein echoes through the walls as the crow man turns to face the sound, his beady golden eyes widening in relief as he sprints towards the faculty member.
“Trein! Thank the Seven! Divus has gone mad! He kicked me out of my office!” before the older man can even process the scene unfolding in front of him, Crewel's angry voice intervenes from the other side. “It's MY office, Crowley. Yours is at the top of the building!”
“I thought you weren't talking to me!” he's being petty now, and he knows it, but he can't help it. “Yes, because you're making a ruckus and not respecting my boundaries! GO AWAY!” the two of them return to their pissy fight, Lucius, Trein's cat, ducks his head with an annoyed “meow” and covers his ears with his little paws.
“Enough of this display! You two should be ashamed of yourselves, you're grown men fighting like children. Imagine what would happen if a student saw you two like this. And answer my question, what caused this kerfuffle in the first place?” as Crowley opens his mouth to explain, Crewel cuts him off and sums up the situation in a matter of seconds.
The hall is filled with a palpable and tense silence as Trein's eyes narrow on the headmaster, who nervously shrinks his shoulders and twiddles his fingers. Man, he forgot how intimidating the old man really is, no wonder the students are deathly afraid of him. "Crowley, this is incredibly irresponsible of you," the crow man groans, slapping his face in frustration at the phrase that has become a mantra in the last few minutes.
"UGH! But what was I supposed to do?" he acts like a petulant child, his hands falling harshly to his sides in exasperation. From the other side of the door, Crewel coughs loudly and slips in a comment that irks Crowley to no end. "Don't put them in that dump." "Are you talking to me now!?"
“Quiet you two!” Trein interrupts again, holding his furry companion a bit tighter in his arms, a prominent vein adorning his forehead as he grows increasingly exhausted by his colleague and boss fighting like an old married couple.
"We'll deal with it tomorrow, but I agree with Crewel that it is dangerous to let them stay in that house. Either fix the building or move them to another one."
And that’s how the crow man finds himself stuck working in the cold office, HIS cold office, a pout on his lips as he lays the crumpled documents on the desk. Fucking Crewel, why did he suddenly turn into a mother and defend those children so much!? None of them complained when he took them to the building, even that Yuuken kid seemed excited to meet the ghosts!
Ah, whatever, he’ll deal with that later. Right now, there's the more pressing matter of repairing the Ceremonial Hall after the fiasco caused by the blue flame monster and finding a replacement nurse since the other one is on maternity leave.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the dimly lit office as the headmaster quickly scribbles unintelligible words on a piece of paper. The antique clock hanging above the doorway ticks away the seconds, the hands nearing together at the top, signaling that it will soon be midnight. Outside, the commotion of students running amok as they finish their dorm welcoming parties is long gone, replaced by the singing of the owls and the howling of the cold wind.
The silence and stillness are shattered when Crowley's pointed ears perk up at the sound of hurried footsteps approaching his office. He groans softly as a pair of knuckles rap urgently against the old wooden door, the crow man pushing back his fatigue as a quiet "come in" falls from his lips.
The door opens slowly, a few seconds later a recently familiar head peers over the opening and Crowley recognizes the slightly familiar face. What was your name... "Ah, (Y/N), how may I be of assistance?" you take a few steps and stand awkwardly in the doorway, curious eyes scanning the room.
Crowley thought you were the most "normal" of the three non-magical students. Figaro creeped him out during the walk back to the dormitory, sharp eyes watching every move and pestering him with rather invasive questions. In contrast, Yuuken's reactions to the ghost made the crow man think of him as an endearing, if not bizarre, naive boy. At the entrance ceremony, he mostly took you as a panicked person attempting to maintain a level head while processing copious amounts of new information.
He can't blame you. If he were in your situation, he might go crazy, too. Let's hope you don't turn into a troublemaker, he already has enough headaches to deal with.
“Sorry for barging in so late, but can I steal a few minutes of your time?” how polite! My, after all the rudeness he experienced today your well-mannered question is more than welcomed! He extends a hand with a small smile and silently beckons you to come in and not wasting a single second, you hurriedly shut the door before walking over to the desk.
“I saw a student behave and carry something suspicious while exiting the infirmary,” ‘oh well, darling, if you stick around long enough, you’ll find out that everyone in this school is suspicious, but, do spill the beans,’ he thinks while nodding along at your sentence, before stopping abruptly as a puzzled look crosses his face.
“Infirmary? I swear that door is supposed to be locked,” he whispers under his breath, brows furrowed as he urges you to continue. You tell him everything that you witnessed during your late visit to the library: the student’s erratic and twitchy behavior, the mention of a “Master” and most disturbingly, the syringe with the mysterious liquid.
Crowley's chin rests flat on the back of his gloved hands, his elbows digging into the wooden surface as golden eyes stare off into the distance, processing the myriad thoughts floating through his mind. “Were you able to see who it was?” you give some of the details you managed to catch under the dim light but admit that you weren’t able to truly see who it was. The crow man simply nods, jotting down your words on a piece of paper.
An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of the headmaster's stomach. Originally, he thought you might have caught some students smuggling pills or antibiotics out of the infirmary, an unfortunate incident that has happened several times before, which is why the room is always locked when there isn't a nurse in it.
But this...
As if a switch had been turned on in his head, Crowley clumsily yet hastily searches through all the drawers of his desk before finding a rectangular device tucked away under some papers and trinkets. His phone. He unlocks it, his golden claw clacking harshly against the glass as he types out an urgent message to the faculty and dorm chat groups:
“ATTENTION: it’s been reported that a student has broken into the infirmary and was spotted carrying a syringe containing an unidentified liquid. The student has the following characteristics: approximately 175 cm tall, pale skin, black, dark purple or blue hair, and green or brown eyes. He was spotted exiting the room at around 11:55 p.m. wearing ceremonial robes.
It is mandatory for dorm leaders to search for this student and make a surprise inspection of each dorm room. You will be allowed to skip the first three periods of classes and have the option to have two other people assist you. Please report their names in this group chat to report them as excused from their responsibilities. If you find the person and/or object, report immediately to faculty.”
“Um, that’s all. I don’t know if you need me for anything else, so, I’ll go,” you’re about to scurry out of the cold office when Crowley calls out your name, asking you to wait. An idea crosses his panicked mind, and he knows that Crewel will definitely have his head for it, but with this incident and the lack of a nurse, he can’t leave the infirmary unoccupied. “(Y/N), how much do you know about medicine?”
The question catches you off guard, and your eyes widen momentarily in surprise before returning to their normal state as you contemplate his question. Crowley remembers your actions at the entrance ceremony when you cleaned the wound of the blond boy (whose name he doesn't remember, but the crow man associates it with a cat).
The small homemade first-aid kit you pulled from your bag tells him that you've at least had to constantly deal with treating wounds or that you're an over-prepared person. Either way, you would work.
"Well, I've taken several first aid courses and have basic medical knowledge," the headmaster half-listens to what you mutter under your breath, something about "university" and "medical school." Eh, he doesn't care to know about the details. "Great! You're hired! Instead of reporting to the courtyard, go straight to the infirmary tomorrow morning. I expect to see you there at 6 a.m. sharp!"
A stunned gasp escapes your lips as your eyes scan the headmaster, confused by the sentence you just heard and hoping inwardly that he was joking. Instead, Crowley simply tilts his head to the side, an innocent smile on his partially covered face as he decides that this is a wonderful idea. Why, this could be an experience for you!
“H-Hold on! Isn’t this the job of the nurse!? Also… what would happen if during my shift someone gets stabbed or comes in with a broken leg!? T-The bone poking out of the skin and everything!” the crow man momentarily grimaces at the mental image, but he quickly regains his composure as an evil thought crosses his mind.
“Do not fret! You’ll deal with superficial or minor injuries. If anything serious were to happen, just give Professor Crewel a call using the office’s phone! He'd be more than happy to help you!" Crowley exclaims as he rises from his desk, the velvety chair making a loud noise as its legs scrape against the floor.
With a grin that could rival that of the infamous Cheshire Cat, he jots down the potionology professor’s number on a ripped piece of paper before handing it to you. ‘That’s payback for the office!’ He saunters over to the entrance, completely ignoring your horrified expression as you stare holes at the paper in your hands.
“Ah! That reminds me…” his voice snaps you out of your detrimental thoughts, curious eyes turning around to watch as the headmaster opens the door. “I’m aware that your current situation is far from ideal. Therefore, until you are back on your feet, please use the showers in the gymnasium and your meals from the cafeteria," he proudly puffs out his chest as he watches your eyes light up and you nod excitedly, quietly thanking him.
“Also, feel free to take anything from the ‘lost and found’ box in the library. We have a policy that the items that remain there for more than three months can be taken by anyone. From my knowledge, the objects there have remained for more than five months,” he adds as you head out into the hallway, and Crowley can't help but feel proud of himself. “My, aren’t I so kind?”
He ignores your face as it shifts from one of gratitude to one of disgust, too busy enjoying his generous actions. “Uh, sure… t-thanks man,” his beady golden eyes follow your figure as it fades into the distance. When you disappear as you make a right turn, Crowley gently closes the door before sighing, fingers pinching his forehead as he feels the oncoming headache.
You take your time walking back to the dorm, admiring the starry sky with each step. Your head swims with different thoughts, fueled by your chronic insomnia, as you ponder once again where you are and what you have seen. A world where magic exists and where there are ghosts, flying broomsticks, monsters, and a bunch of crazy people.
If someone had told you the day before that you would end up in a magic school, living in a dormitory that would fall if you looked at it the wrong way, you would have laughed your ass off.
Fucking hilarious.
You yawn, hot crystalline tears clouding your eyes as you rub them vigorously. You groan as the cold wind kisses your skin and you feel more awake than tired, even though the exhaustion of everything you have experienced today weighs heavily on your bones and muscles. You feel restless, but not tired.
Frankly, you kind of hate your body.
The dead leaves and twigs crackle beneath your soles as you stuff your hands into your pockets, a morbidly familiar building creeps up from the horizon, but you watch in confusion as two pairs of lights move erratically in through the windows. Seconds later, Figaro and Yuuken almost kick down the front door as they emerge from the house, their hair disheveled and their eyes red as they sneeze and cough violently.
Your walk turns into a light jog as you approach the two men, the blond one letting out a sigh of relief when he sees you. It turns out that during your failed adventure to the library, the three ghosts of the house decided to play a prank on the Finnish man by ruffling the white sheets covering the nearby furniture in his bedroom, causing a huge cloud of dust to rise from the fabric and enter his nostrils.
On the other hand, Yuuken awoke to a tickling sensation on his hand, only to almost punch a hole in the nearby wall as a spider seemed to be happily walking on his appendage. Then part of his back began to itch and he panicked, thinking he had some kind of rash from the dirty blankets. However, when you pulled up his shirt to examine him, all you found were some red marks from his nails and, thankfully, no small bumps or any sort of physical ailment.
You, on the other hand, recounted the events and swore that the porch lit up with Figaro's excitement as you informed the two men of Crowley's offer. He even started bouncing on the balls of his feet at the mention of a free shower. But when the chatter dies down and the only sound is the song of the nocturnal animals, the three of you stare back at the intimidating building.
“I’m not going back in there,” Fígaro whispers in a scratchy voice, his eyes still watering from the sneeze attack. “Where else are we supposed to sleep though?” you retort, not too thrilled about the idea of going back to the house and laying your back against the stiff and dirty mattress. Yuuken is rather quiet, a thoughtful hand scratching his chin before an idea pops into his head, bright eyes turning to look at you both.
“Why don’t we sleep outside? It’ll be like camping, just without a tent,” you almost snort out loud at the sight of Figaro's face contorting into an expression of astonishment, eyes wide open as the blond man is rendered speechless. “Are you mad!? And what, get our eyes clawed out by some bizarre three-headed night creature!?” the Kendo student crosses his burly arms over his chest, quietly clicking his tongue in disapproval at the Finnish man's words.
“Is either this or you sleeping back inside that dust-infested room… Or you can also clean out another bedroom, but, Pembroke and I aren’t going to help you, we’re tired,” the booming voice of Yuuken echoes through the dilapidated porch, his intimidating side finally coming out to the moonlight. But, Fígaro doesn’t seem to back down, even though he’s quietly stunned for a few seconds. His body rapidly turns around to you, blue eyes scanning your face. “Please, tell me that you’re with me on this one.”
“Eh, I’m not. I’ve slept on the balcony of my house multiple times and nothing happened, so, Yuuken’s idea is fine by me,” you shrug, the blonde man gawking at your words. To be honest, you've slept in worse places and the idea of falling asleep under the stars doesn't bother you at all. “Dude, calm down. The most that will happen is that we’ll get some bug bites.”
You would have thought about it more if you'd been a little more awake, but all your rationality was thrown out the window as you suddenly felt more sleepy and tired. Finally.
And so, with two votes against one, you found yourselves lying on a thick blanket spread out on the dead grass, the branches of a nearby tree serving as your cover, at Fígaro's request. The whiny blonde is snuggled between you and Yuuken's back, having insisted on the spot because he was cold and “forced by both of you to participate in such an activity.”
The Kendo student didn't give a damn about his complaints, shushing him between sleepy yawns, too exhausted to argue with him about the stupid place in the makeshift bed. Meanwhile, you were more concerned about the fact that you'd only be able to sleep for a few hours before you had to go to work. Will you have enough energy?
You hope so. A good shower and a strong cup of coffee should give you a boost tomorrow morning.
As the blades of grass gently nudge your back, the three of you say a quiet good night. Your heavy eyes finally begin to close, the cold wind gently kissing your skin as the soft snores and tired breaths of your new roommates lull you into a deep sleep.
The three of you fail to hear the horrifying screams of Crewel and the booming laughter of Ashton Vargas, the gym teacher, as the two faculty members watch you sleep under the tree.
Objection! Stand your ground! Marvelous! (Twisted Wonderland x Reader)
← Chapter 2 | Masterlist | Chapter 4 →
Word count: 5.3 k.
WARNING: N/A
Note: apologies that this took so long to upload! Thank you for the likes, reblogs, and comments! This chapter is based on chapter 2 of the manga “Disney Twisted Wonderland - Episode of Heartslaby
The walk towards the vacant dorm is rather quiet, save for the few times you hear Yuuken’s equipment shifting inside his gym bag and Fígaro asking some questions to the crow man, whom you know learned his name is Dire Crowley. You, on the other hand, take some time to cool down, to shut your brain down from the constant downpour of negative and detrimental thoughts, and instead, focus your attention on the fantastical environment.
Night Raven College feels like it came straight out of one of the young adult novels you read. You can even imagine the story of the young protagonist facing challenges, and fighting against monsters and enemies while keeping their school life afloat. A cheesy novel, but damn, you're a sucker for those stories.
A cobblestone path leads the way, moss and dirt seeping into the cracks, countless orange, red, and yellow leaves fall from Hawthorn and Maple trees planted at the border of the path and as the cold wind passes by the branches, they bump into each other and create a lulling melody. The courtyard is empty, save for a few students in robes running toward their dorms or faculty members returning to the gigantic castle, carrying stacks of documents and portfolios.
The atmosphere is calm, it’s such a whiplash from the tumultuous event you experienced mere minutes ago. Everything feels completely surreal, it’s as if you just became hyper-aware of your surroundings and everything that your body is experiencing. It feels strange to walk, to think, even to breathe. So much for quieting your thoughts.
Your hand automatically wanders towards your pants' back pocket, seeking the comfort of your technological device. Your feet move forward without much thought, your attention shifting to mildly paying attention to the three men in front of you as your right thumb presses rather harshly on the power button, your lock screen flashing brightly and creating a small source light on this chilly night.
The hour and date on your phone are frozen, it doesn’t move a second forward or backward, on the top right corner a large “X” sits on top of the empty gray reception bars right next to the battery that showcases it only has 89% left. What brings you comfort is the photograph that sits behind your notifications of unread messages and social media updates. It was from a recent three-day school trip to Katsurahama a few days before finals, when your friend and desk neighbor, Momoko Umemoto, dragged you to see the recently inaugurated jellyfish display inside Katsurahama Aquarium.
"Momo, they're not going to run away or disappear, you know?" you laugh at your friend's palpable excitement as she tries to weave you and herself through the crowd of students from your school.
Her freshly manicured hands gently but firmly grasp your right hand as she drags you towards the aquarium, though she paused momentarily at your comment, her blue eyes swiveling to look at you, a pout forming on her glossy lips. "Shush! I want a good picture before we can't reach the glass!"
You highly doubt that your classmates are as excited to see the fish as you are, as you study their bored and sleepy faces. Most of them have already left for the beach, floaties and coolers in hand, while others have found their seats in the restaurants near the shore after the teachers gave orders to stay in the area and promptly dismissed everyone, the elders walking towards the open bar.
In reality, you know that the gyaru is excited to see for the first time in person the cnidarian creatures that you have seen in books since you were both little. You can't blame her, sea creatures are fascinating and the excitement is eating away at your stomach to see what other unique species are in the aquarium.
You mumble a few excuses as you bump into a guy who's too engrossed in his phone to move out of the way, while Momoko pulls you towards the building, entering the large glass doors and you sigh as the air conditioning inside kisses your warm skin. At a fast pace, the two of you don't stop to admire the other fish as you navigate the winding corridors of the building, you'll do that later.
Finally, as if connected, your eyes find a standing sign, blue and teal construction paper letters spelling out "Jellyfish Exhibit →" accompanied by an adorable paper handmade crystal jelly. In a matter of seconds, your walk turns into a full sprint as you both giggle loudly, interlacing your fingers, excitement bubbles inside you as the room with various glass cases and blue lights comes into view.
You feel like a little kid again. How long has it been since you felt like this? Carefree and excited? It's been so long that even as a child, weighed down by responsibilities and forced independence, that feeling of pure happiness was absent. You can only count with a single hand the fleeting moments that recreate that warm feeling you're feeling right now.
The two of you come to a stop, hands still clasped together, taking in your surroundings. Black sea nettle, lion's mane, blue blubber, Japanese sea nettle, and Mediterranean jellies move in a hypnotic dance in the various glass cases. Their long limbs stretch as far as they can reach and their heads, also known as bells, bob and stretch in different directions, dictating their path.
But what catches your eye is the small glass case of moon jellies. They're ethereal, their translucent, milky-white bells a clear reminder of Earth's only natural satellite, the one that comforts you on lonely nights as you gaze at the starry sky. Momoko lets go of your hand as she pulls out her cell phone to take a few pictures; you copy the same action but focus on the small creatures in front of you.
Minutes pass as the two of you bask in the calm atmosphere of the room, you and Momoko now stand side by side, watching the jellyfish in their natural state. Outside you hear the muffled conversations of passersby and the heavy footsteps of children running through the aquarium.
Suddenly, Momoko’s arm shoots up from her side and quickly grabs your shoulder opposite to her, pulling your body as you place your hand on the middle of her back. You bump your head against hers, smelling the cardamom and vanilla perfume she sprayed on during the bus ride to the beach and you find your eyes reflected on her phone screen as she gives the camera a wide smile. “Say cheese, (Y/N)!”—
Immersed in your thoughts, you fail to notice the trio has stopped in front of a pair of worn gates until you end up crashing into a certain blonde man's back, your phone being crushed against your chest. "Daydreaming, dear (Y/N)?" in a melodic yet teasing tone, Fígaro chuckles as he looks at you over his shoulder. His icy blue eyes stare intently at you and it makes you feel miniscule, as if you were being examined under a microscope.
This man is starting to unnerve you. During the long walk to the dormitory, you noticed several times out of your peripheral vision that Fígaro's icy blue eyes were like pinballs, his gaze drifting from you to Yuuken to the path ahead before repeating the same pattern after a few minutes. He only stopped watching you when Crowley piped up with a question or when Fígaro became curious about something.
You think that maybe he's being cautious around you, examining you and the kendo student to get a good idea of how you behave. But a small thought inside your brain tells you that it's something else because he doesn't seem to be on guard when he's around you, or even to hide his expression like he did when you told him about the missing people.
"Shit, sorry," out of embarrassment and flustered by the way he addressed you, a red blush spreads across your cheeks and you quickly put your phone back in your pocket, skidding away from the man. On the contrary, Fígaro relishes in your sudden awkwardness, wanting to tease you further to get more out of you but his bones are still aching from the fall and he’s in desperate need of a bath. He’ll save it for later.
Instead, he simply chuckles once more before gently poking your forehead with his index finger. “Come now! Just a bit more and you can dream as much as you want,” with that, he turns on his heel before walking towards Crowley, who fiddles with an antique keyring while murmuring under his breath.
“Well, we’re here! What do you think?” the crow man announces before returning to the task at hand. Your eyes scan the gothic building before you, the various cobwebs covering the fence and the dead flora around it adding to the charm and atmosphere of this being a haunted house. However, fear creeps in as you notice the rotting wooden boards covering the dirty windows and the large doors barely holding on to their hinges.
And suddenly, your curiosity about the previous inhabitants of this place vanishes as a thought dawns on you. You’re going to have to sleep in there. Look, you’re more than grateful for this opportunity; the fact that you get to sleep somewhere in exchange for work after being transported to an unknown world with magical beings is nothing short of a miracle.
But the problem isn't that you're picky or ungrateful... It's the health hazards that lurk inside this house that frighten you the most.
Black mold and mildew, stagnant water, rodents, bugs like spiders, cockroaches, and ticks (your worst nightmare), collapsing walls and roofs, rusty metal, and even asbestos, since from the looks of it, the dorm is pretty old, could potentially lurk inside. Is asbestos even a thing in this world? Suddenly you're wondering when you last had a tetanus shot and if you still have your KN95 mask in your bag.
“It’s a very charming building,” Yuuken suddenly announces beside you, his very flat expression and neutral tone not sounding convincing at all. Yet, Crowley turns around delighted with a closed-eyed smile and you swear he even puffs out his chest proudly. 'He's not beating the bird allegations any time soon.’
The worn metal gate creaks loudly as it swings open, one of the doors nearly falling to the ground, but the crow man simply walks forward, his walking cane sweeping the dead leaves from the path. "Right? It is quite a beauty! Well children, let’s head inside."
Oh well, beggars can't be choosers. So you might as well just suck it up and try to find a way to fix this health hazard and building code violation before it collapses on you. You reluctantly follow the three men in front of you as you head towards the house.
The inside is just as you expected. Dim hallways illuminated by the night sky are decorated with dusty or broken furniture, the wallpaper has started to peel off the wall due to the humidity, cobwebs tucked away in the corners of the walls sway gently with the wind and the air feels heavy. The four of you make your way deeper into the dorm, with the crow man leading the way.
“It’s a little broken down, but it can probably withstand the rain and wind,” as soon as Crowley finishes his sentences, Fígaro, who quietly walked beside you admiring a painting caked in dust, lets out a shriek followed by a loud cracking sound that startles you. His decorated hands shoot from his sides and quickly find your arm, gripping your shirt in need of support.
You automatically hold on to his left arm and torso, as you look down towards the sound: part of the floor has caved in and his foot is now stuck between some floorboards. In a panic, Fígaro begins to harshly pull out his leg, attempting to free it, though you quickly stop him as the sound of his — very expensive — pants begin to rip, the fabric caught in between some splinters.
“Calm down, breathe in and out. If you move like that you’ll just hurt your ankle further. Here, hold onto my shoulders,” not awaiting his response, you gently let go of his limbs and kneel on the floor, your hands gently grasping his leg to get a better look as to what got caught. A few seconds later, a warm pressure settles near the juncture between your neck and shoulder, as your nimble fingers slip out the fabric threads from some wood pieces.
In a matter of seconds, you’re able to free his foot from the confines of the floor, and you hear the blond above you breathe a sigh of relief. However, a small gasp slips past Fígaro’s lips as you slide up his pant leg to inspect the damage. “Don't worry, nothing’s bleeding or scratched. Can you move your ankle?” your lukewarm fingers softly trace the red mark left by the splinters and you don’t miss the way Fígaro shudders in response. ‘Heh, I’ll take it as payback from earlier’.
Feeling a sudden heat pool in the apple of his cheeks, the blonde turns his head to face the opposite direction, shielding his embarrassed look from the curious gaze of Crowley and Yuuken. Clearing his throat, Fígaro swivels his ankle from side to side, feeling no discomfort other than a slight burning sensation left by the mark, as he places his foot back on the ground.
“T-Thank you kindly, (Y/N),” he stammers out as you pat his leg in response before standing up and once again facing the other two men, your expression neutral as if nothing happened. “Ah… do be careful… Anyways! Regarding your souls having been summoned here, we are also partially responsible. After all, the carriage brought you here,” Crowley taps his cane on the dilapidated floor before you and Fígaro approach him.
“As such, while we figure a way to return you to your world, you’re more than free to stay in this place. Of course, as I mentioned earlier, you’ll work around campus to be able to pay for food and clothing,” you nod at his statement, eyes droopy as the events of the day come crashing down on you like a cold wave of water. Yuuken, on the other hand, smiles brightly at the crow man's words, sticking his legs together and slightly bowing his head down with a straight back.
“Thank you very much! We appreciate it!” as the kendo student's eager reply echoes through the empty halls of the abandoned house, another sound catches your attention. A creaking noise, followed by the echoes of glass softly clanging against each other. At first, you dismiss it as the wind moving loose debris or the house settling. But as the sound grows louder and more constant, your head swivels toward the source and your stomach drops:
A dusty metal chandelier with misty glass bulbs, eerily similar to the one in the entrance hall, hangs from the ceiling by a single rusty screw that is slowly being loosened by an unknown force.
“WATCH OUT!” your sudden scream immediately alerts Fígaro, who swiftly jumps out of the way, his nimble movements reminding you of a cat. Yuuken also turns to look at the ceiling, his eyes widen in shock as his hands quickly grab your shoulders and in a matter of seconds, the black-haired boy maneuvers both of your bodies out of the way of the chandelier that, in a matter of milliseconds, falls to the ground with a loud bang.
Small pieces of glass fly everywhere, though thankfully none of them hit or scratch you, instead they land in front of your feet. The impact of the metal leaves a huge hole in the middle of the foyer and raises large amounts of dust, which sneaks into your mouth and nose, causing the three of you to cough and sneeze, flapping your hands in the air to push away the huge gray cloud.
You try to control your heart, which is beating frantically, your brain is still processing the fact that you almost died from being crushed by a chandelier and the sound of the metal tearing off the roof is still echoing in your ears. Trying to control your breathing, you turn to look at Yuuken, whose face has turned pale with fear, although he maintains a neutral expression.
"HEE HEE HEE! What a shame... it missed~," an unknown voice laments in a mocking tone as the now destroyed chandelier shakes violently. As if a switch suddenly turns on inside his head, Yuuken's brow furrows as he almost rips off the cover of his kendo swords and pushes you behind his back, causing you to gasp in surprise. "Who's there!?" he bellows, tightening his grip on the wooden sword and pointing it at the chandelier.
You didn’t even see it shoot up from the floor, too distracted as your eyes flitted around the room searching for the source of the voice, instead, you felt it. A white misty figure suddenly phases through you, your stomach twisting into cold knots and you feel nauseous as the creature laughs mischievously at your expression. “Welcome to our castle~.”
Your heartbeat picks up again as Yuuken steps away from you, watching in horror as the ghost that's still halfway through your torso flashes him a wink and tips his hat. His attention is torn away from you as another transparent figure phases out of a nearby painting and starts a game of tug-of-war, trying to steal the black-haired man's sword. He’s momentarily shocked at the amount of force this misty being has.
On the other side of the room, Fígaro swats away at a thin, tall ghost that messes with his hair, anger coloring the blonde’s face as the cold figure harshly pulls at his locks while laughing maniacally. “Paskiainen! Crowley, some help over here would be nice!” he shrieks in pure rage, blue eyes glaring holes at the bird man who has not moved an inch and simply watches the chaos unfold in front of him.
“Ah, I forgot to tell you. Some mischievous ghosts took up home here,” Crowley states in a blasé tone and your fingers suddenly ache as a strong urge to strangle the crow man overcomes. But, on second thought, better to not murder him, because if ghosts are real in this world there’s no way in hell that you’d want his annoying ass haunting you for the rest of your stay here.
The ghost continues its incessant giggles, as they fly towards the ceiling and slowly spin in circles, Fígaro taking their distraction as a chance to bolt towards where you and Yuuken stand, with shell-shocked expressions. The blonde man grabs your arm in a rather harsh manner, as he pulls the black haired man to stand in front of you two, acting as a human shield. “It’s been a while since we had any visitors! Please, make yourself at home!”
“Oh, I know! I know!” one of the misty creatures pipes out, the smaller one out of the three. The ghosts exchange various knowing looks for a few seconds, before their expression turns psychotic, with owlish eyes and wide grins staring directly at you, sending shivers down your spine. “Why don’t they become ghosts? We’ve been looking for new friends, after all!”
The three figures dash at you, pushing their faces together as they bounce with maniacal excitement, their faces almost merging into each other from how close they are, creating a Lovecraftian visual nightmare. You feel Fígaro squeeze your arm even tighter and watch in horror as Yuuken’s hand goes limp, his wooden sword clanging loudly as it falls on the floor.
“The afterlife is a real blast! There’s no death or suffering! Join us! HEE HEE HEE!”
What!? Fuck these guys! Angry that these ghosts think they can rob you of what little life you have left (you know that today's chaos has probably shaved a few years off your lifespan, but damn it, you still have a bucket list to complete), you duck down, almost dragging Fígaro down with you as you grab the wooden sword.
Just as you're about to push Yuuken out of the way and beat the living hell out of these creatures, a laugh from the black-haired man interrupts you. “This is awesome! So ghosts are real in this world!” filled with glee, the Kendo student approaches the three misty creatures who quickly back away in confusion, murmuring to each other about the bizarre reaction.
Meanwhile, you feel your jaw drop to the floor as the man's words slowly work their way through your brain. You are amazed at his childish reaction, doesn't he remember that just seconds ago these beings tried to murder you by dropping a full-size chandelier on you!? Or that they toyed with your bodies, encouraging you to give in to the sweet release of death?
You think for a second that maybe being in this world for too long has made him go mad. “I have to decline your offer to become a ghost, but I hope we can get along as roommates!” his cheerfulness is not contagious, as the ghosts stare at him in bewilderment, fiddling with their fingers and lowering their heads almost bashfully. It's this reaction that reminds you of the person standing in front of you.
Kotohira is a small place, so that meant word got around quickly, and when the Enma’s moved into the apartment above you, they were the talk of the town for a good while. Especially Yuuken. His intimidating and burly appearance was a huge contrast to his sweet and charismatic nature, and your neighbors were constantly cooing about how helpful and determined he was.
But you never really got to know him, you didn't bother, even after your parents encouraged you to. It wasn't that you found him irritating, it's just that you were so busy keeping your house afloat, working a part-time job, and studying to maintain your scholarship that you barely bothered to pursue friendships or interpersonal relationships.
Your group of friends was small, and you were happy with that. So to you, Yuuken Enma was the rather intimidating big dude who took the same bus you did to get to school. He got off first and you two stops later. He knew your name not out of curiosity, but by circumstance. You were neighbors and that was that.
So, to see him in this light, to hear once more the way Chiaki, the elder housewife that lived next to you, spoke about how Yuuken was so adorable and charming is completely… astounding. So much so that you don't even notice when a breathless and incredulous "What?" comes out of your mouth. At your question, Yuuken turns around with a broad grin and points at the ghosts.
“Right!? It’s my first time seeing one… I wonder what other cool things are in this world!” he quietly laughs. For the first time since getting here, you can’t find a response in you and you wonder why this side of him leaves you speechless.
The phantoms continue to mumble and slowly float away to huddle in a corner of the foyer as Crowley clears his throat to get your attention. “This is quite impressive. Many students tend to steer clear from this place due to the ghosts, but, seeing your reaction, you’ll do just fine!” he laughs merrily before turning on his heel and heading for the door.
“Tomorrow, I’ll come by early and give you your respective jobs. In the meantime, feel free to use the library to gather more information on how to return to your world! I am so gracious!” you quietly scoff as he auto-compliments himself; you have a hunch that his rather eccentric attitude will cause you headaches in the future.
Crowley starts to walk but stops a few steps later, snapping his fingers as if he just remembered something. “Goodness me! Where are my manners? I forgot to ask you your names!” he turns around, his beady golden eyes peeking out from behind his crow mask as he looks at you expectantly.
You’ve been tossing and turning around the hard mattress for about an hour now, the exhaustion and sleepiness from the day suddenly disappear as soon as your head hits the old pillow you found hidden inside one of the hallway’s closets. You quick off the comforter, groaning in frustration as you open your eyes to stare at the ceiling.
Not long after the obnoxious bird man left the building, the three of you got to work cleaning the house, or at least the rooms you wanted to use in the meantime. You were able to locate three bedrooms and two bathrooms that were in a decent state, so you got to sweeping and dusting various pieces of furniture, and placing those that were beyond saving in a neat pile in the backyard, hoping to dismantle them for materials in the near future.
Unfortunately, you found out the hard way that you can't use the water system in the dormitory at the moment. It all started when Fígaro decided to test the sink by opening the valves, which caused a terrible sound to pass through the pipes as brown, almost black, water came out of the faucet. It was accompanied by a foul smell that made the three of you almost vomit as you ran from the bathroom.
The next problem was the lack of food. The communal kitchen was a complete mess, with the stove missing several burners, the door of the refrigerator falling off as soon as Yuuken opened it, and several cupboards missing drawers or falling right off the wall. Everything was empty, ransacked by unknown persons, not even a grain of salt left. There was no way to reach Crowley to beg for food, and the cafeteria was closed at this hour.
Tired, dirty, and hungry, the three of you decided it was best to go to bed. And so now, an hour later, you found yourself wishing you could have foreseen the future and packed your melatonin, temazepam, or something strong enough to knock you out and get you through the night.
An angry sigh leaves your lips as you sit up, your nails raking through your head as you look out the dirty window, the branch of a dead tree tapping gently against it as it swings in the wind. You might as well take advantage of Crowley's "generosity" and check out the library, maybe reading will make you sleepy.
Your padded feet tap lightly on the wooden floor as you make your way to a chair in the corner of the room, where your boots and bag sit. After stumbling a bit, you successfully slip your shoes on and sling your back over your torso, quietly exiting the dilapidated dormitory and making your way to the massive castle that looms in the distance.
After about fifteen minutes of walking in silence and climbing who knows how many stairs, the night air kisses your warm skin and the moon illuminates the large doors of the school that are open. You enter the building and find that a few meters from the entrance, illuminated by green lights, is a map of the entire layout of the building. ‘Nifty.’
However, when your eyes examine the sheer size of this one castle, you can't help but cover your mouth in shock. There are six levels in total, with the first floor mostly containing important rooms like the cafeteria, the infirmary, the library (which occupies at least four levels of the building), and a bizarre room called the "Hall of Mirrors". The second floor and up is where the fun starts, as not only the classrooms and club rooms are on these levels, but also various laboratories.
Your eyes scan the words: Alchemy, General Computer Lab, Robotics, Biology, Physics, Botany, Home Economics, Astrology, Art Studio, and even an Enchantment Room. The list goes on and you can’t help but quietly geek out. If you ever get the chance, you won't hesitate to check these places out. For now, though, your best bet is to check out the first floor of the library.
Fixing the shoulder strap of your bag, you make your way down the corridor and take a sharp turn to the right, your eyes studying the portraits of fantastical landscapes and famous historical figures unknown to you. You also pay close attention to some of their features: animal ears, tails, fangs, horns, colorful hair, and intriguing eyes. It is like something you would read in a fantasy book.
But your admiration is interrupted as you pass the infirmary, a loud crash followed by a series of muffled curses stops you dead in your tracks as you turn to face the door. You're about to head toward, worried about someone getting hurt when a loud ringing in your ears forces you to close your eyes and nearly sends you to the floor in pain.
Something tells you to hide, and you don't hesitate to run behind a nearby pillar, your eyes carefully peeking out from behind the structure to look at where the sound came from.
Look, you should be scared by the sudden voice in your head, but at this point, you've read enough horror stories and played enough games to know that when something tells you to hide, you hide. Besides, after today's fiasco with the weird mirror talking inside your head, you should start to get used to these things.
Although, the voice does sound kind of different from the one you’ve heard before.
You can't linger in your thoughts much longer when the door to the infirmary bursts open and a figure steps out of the darkness, wearing one of the black and purple robes the students used during the entrance ceremony. In his left hand, the figure tightly clutches a syringe, a strange dark liquid moving inside. The hallway is eerily quiet, so you can hear their accelerated breathing as they look around paranoidly.
The figure is trembling, lips quivering as if about to burst into tears. Their behavior is incredibly suspicious, and your stomach twists in worry as you wonder what is in the syringe they are carrying, so you start to mentally note down some details about the person.
In the dim light, you notice that the figure is a man, judging by the Adam's apple that bobs up and down his throat as he swallows, he has pale skin, a few tufts of either black, dark purple or blue hair peeking out from under the hood, and his eyes are either green or brown, though you can't see them well because of the distance, but you do notice that his gaze is soft. He looks docile, almost weak.
He whimpers in fear, biting the tip of his right thumb as he stares down at the syringe, which almost slips from his grasp due to his nervousness, though he's able to catch it quickly and breathe a sigh of relief. “This... Master will be proud of my work,” he whispers before making up his mind and running in the opposite direction from where you are standing.
Unnerved by his words, you step out from behind the pillar. Your hands nervously fiddle with the strap of your bag as you run for the stairs. Forget the damn library...
You need to tell Crowley what the hell just happened. Something doesn’t feel right.
Objection! Stand your ground! Marvelous! (Twisted Wonderland x Reader)
← Chapter 1 | Masterlist | Chapter 3 →
Word count: 5.4 k.
WARNING: N/A
Note: sorry it took me a while to upload, I had to get a uni project done but now I'm almost finished with it! Thank you for the likes, reblogs, and comments! This chapter is based on chapter 2 of the manga “Disney Twisted Wonderland - Episode of Heartslaby
“LET ME GO!” the gray creature screams in response, trying to escape from the arms of the crow man, who has no intention of letting him go. As their figures become smaller and smaller, the room seems to return to normal, the students talking in whispers about the chaos that happened just a few minutes ago and making jokes about the little monsters' “pathetic or laughable wish.”
You don't want to talk about it, much less think about what's going on around you. You've long passed the stage of denial, the things in front of you are concrete evidence that the crow man's speech was not a lie.
Now, you're scared, a feeling of doom mixed with nausea twists your stomach into pretty bows as you slowly make your way toward Yuuken and the coffin man. You're pushing down and drowning feelings that are meant to be addressed, but honestly, right now, what else are you supposed to do?
You convince yourself that the best option, for now, is to swallow the bitter pill, find a way to get out of this situation as soon as possible and return safely home. Furthermore, you can have an existential crisis later.
You kneel down in front of the man, getting a better look at his features as you do a preliminary scan of his body for any noticeable injuries. ‘Could this be?’ Despite the commotion and the fall from a considerable height, his slicked-back blond hair is completely intact, not a single hair out of place. His breathing is even, meaning there are no deep internal injuries or anything too dangerous to worry about… for now.
There is no blood on his cream-colored satin shirt, except for a few specks of dirt and dust from the debris, and the only injuries are a few scratches on his hands, some of his fingers adorned with expensive but tasteful jewelry, the same goes for his ears and neck.
'He looks like he stepped right out of a fashion magazine.' Your hand gently grips his chin as you lift his head, moving it from side to side, his eyes still closed. His left cheek has a cut two fingers below the eye, but fortunately, it's not too deep. “Enma, please hold his head up, I'll treat the wound,” you gently release his chin and reach for your bag, quickly finding a small white plastic box.
Although you are not clumsy, your classmates are, especially two of your middle school friends who are always fighting or pulling pranks that ended in bruises, cuts, or tears. The school nurse was never around for some reason, and after the third injury, which ended with a particularly nasty cut on your forehead, you made sure to carry a small first-aid kit in case of emergency. While your friends have moved away, you've subconsciously kept it with you, even though you rarely use it. You appreciate your overthinking and safety precautions.
Yuuken lets go of his gym bag, the items inside clattering rather loudly as they hit the ground, drawing the attention of some students sitting on a nearby bench, though they quickly return to their conversation. The Kendo student softly grabs both sides of the young man's head, who groans in response, before holding it in your direction, just in time for you to open the package and take out a small alcohol wipe.
“This will sting a little,” you quietly warn before gently pressing the wet cotton against the wound, the young man wincing in response as he inhales, though his eyes remain closed. Passing the swab a few times, you remove most of the blood and dirt from his face before reaching for the box and pulling out a bandage, placing it on top of the cut.
“Thank you kindly,” he whispers in return, as you roll up the trash and stuff it into one of the inside pockets of your bag. You'll find a place to throw it away later. Exchanging a single glance, you and Yuuken stand up and take each of the man's arms and swing them over your shoulders, helping him to lift himself off the ground.
“Let’s get out of here while we can,” the Kendo student nods at your quiet words, and the two of you prepare to make your way out of the building before the crow man returns, which was your original plan before the monster wreaked havoc. Unfortunately, before you can take another step, you're stopped by the redhead whose name you learned is Riddle Rosehearts, as he angrily points his pen at you.
“You! How dare you insult me just now!?” he asks, irritated, his gray eyes fixed on your bewildered expression. “What!? How did I insult you? We barely interacted before!” your brain sorts through every single memory since the very moment you awakened in this cursed place, trying to figure out how you could — wait…
“Are you offended that I didn't let you get hit by that giant fireball!?” you ask, dumbfounded at the audacity of this man. Riddle's eyebrows furrowed in response to your question, a scowl etching his pale face. ‘What an insufferable dude! I didn’t mean to steal his stupid thunder.’ “Let me make this very clear to you… This is the same as insulting the Queen of Hearts, and I will have your head for it!” have your head!? He’s going to kill you!? Before you can even retaliate to the insane comment, a dry laugh at your side interrupts the confrontation.
“Insult? Heh, you’re quite sensitive if you believe that my friend removing you out of harm's way is an ‘insult’,” the blond man chuckles before lifting his head, icy blue eyes staring mockingly at Riddle.
The redhead's confidence does not waiver as the piercing eyes stare back at him, Riddle only tightens his grip on the pen. You believe that the light is more likely playing some tricks, because, why is the house warden’s face turning redder? The blond man simply barks a laugh at his actions. “What? Cat got your tongue, 'queen'? You seemed eager to rant to my friend just now. What happened to your self-confidence?” his head lulls to the side as if he were a doll, a Cheshire grin decorating his lips.
Quickly, the blonde man slides his wrists out of your and Yuuken's grasp before lazily standing up and shoving his jewel-adorned hands into the front pockets of his pants. You have a bad feeling, even though he's mocking the redhead, you feel a murderous intent emit from the blonde man as he suddenly straightens his back and cracks his neck, a loud "pop" reaches your eyes and you automatically cringe.
His movements are slow but taunting as he makes his way over to Riddle, a cold smile on his lips, and the atmosphere becomes heavy and tense. The rest of the nearby students notice it too, quietly yelling at the rest of the people in the back to "shut up," and the people sitting on a nearby balcony lean forward to pay close attention to the scene. You've just noticed them. For his part, the house warden slowly backs away, and you can tell he's beginning to feel intimidated, though his face doesn't waver.
“Go on, I’m interested in finding out how you’re going to cut their head off. Will you use a knife, a cleaver, or will you point that pen at them and cast a spell like you did at the cat? Or perhaps… you spill nothing but empty threats?” the students beside you whisper excitedly at the confrontation, some even pulling out their phones to record, the spectacle before them must be amazing.
As the little man opens his mouth to retaliate, two figures suddenly rush forward, one of them a young man with green hair and a small black clover on his left cheek, placing a firm hand on the house warden’s shoulder. “Riddle, why don't we all calm down and wait for the Headmaster to return?” finally! Someone in this room with some common sense!
At the sudden appearance of these two figures, the blond man rolls his eyes and backs away, deciding to stand right next to you, the smile now turns into an amused grin, and he chuckles darkly next to you. “Pfft, what a boring show,” he mutters lowly, his sharp eyes briefly connecting with yours, but his gaze returns to face the tiny tyrant.
The murderous aura is now gone, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. ‘This guy… Yuuken and I have to be careful around him, he feels like a ticking bomb, poking at others for his own amusement.’
"Calm down? Why should I, when these three have done nothing but cause trouble and ruin the entrance ceremony!? They're guilty of misconduct,” Riddle sneers, his eyes focused on you. Did he forget that the chaos was caused by some random creature that broke through a window and proceeded to set the entire room on fire? Also, the concept of 'calm' or 'rationality 'is completely absent from this guy's vocabulary.
The green-haired man sighs, gritting his teeth at the redhead's reaction. However, despite the obvious frustration toward the house warden, his expression quickly changes to one of warm nervousness as the man laughs in response. It's almost like a mother's reaction to an upset child, attempting to quiet him down before he throws a tantrum. ‘Interesting.’
“Still, this is the first day for these guys, they don't know all the rules of this place,” and you're back to square one. You're momentarily distracted when the second figure, a man with orange hair partially pulled back into a ponytail, squeezes between you and Yuuken and places a warm hand on both of your shoulders, side-eyeing and avoiding the blonde man. “Yep! Soooo, can you maybe let them off the hook this time?”
You just shake your head, a tired sigh leaving your lips. “Please, we're not here to enroll, this is a mistake. We want nothing to do with this, we just want to go home!” you sound like a broken record at this point, mentally exhausted by the stubborn people who seem to be completely deaf to your words. The orange-haired man gives you a small, pitiful smile as he gently pats you on the shoulder.
“Why do you keep spouting such nonsense? The black carriage wouldn’t pick up a person who has no magical abilities,” as soon as Riddle finishes his sentence, a booming sound resonates within the walls of the room as you notice some movement in the background. In the mirror, which bizarrely shows no reflection, a sea of green flames appears, dancing fervently, and moments later, a stoic theatrical mask comes into view. “It is as you said.”
You stop dead in your tracks, the world around you momentarily comes to a halt as the monotone words spoken by the mirror reach your ears. ‘That voice… it was the one that was speaking to me before I got run over by that horse.’ It seems that you're not the only one who recognizes it, as when you turn to look at Yuuken and the blond man, their faces are ones of shock and surprise.
“You… you were the one inside my head,” Yuuken, who had been relatively quiet throughout the entire confrontation, mutters under his breath, his owlish gaze glued to the magic mirror. Though the mask pays them no mind, continuing with his monologue. “No color, no shape, nothing.”
The entire room falls silent, several eyes now staring at you, watching and examining your every move. They feel like vultures, waiting for your reaction as if you three were vulnerable prey. But, you ignore them, more focused on looking for the answers to the questions that have been eating at your brain for the entire evening.
“Did you bring us here? If so, why us?” you make your way towards the towering mirror, the warm hand that was previously placed on your shoulder now falling back towards the orange-haired man’s side. Yet the soulless, dark eyes of the mask just stare back at you without answering any of your questions.
A pair of footsteps make their way towards your right side and the smell of expensive sandalwood and cinnamon cologne reaches your nostrils, as the unknown blonde man scoffs. “What? You too as well? Are all of you this rude or are we just simply not worthy in your presence?” behind you, Riddle gasps in shock and you can feel the incoming verbal attack from the redheaded even if you’re standing so far away from him.
“My goodness! Tonight has turned out to be quite a night! First, that monster raccoon wreaking havoc, and now this,” the room turns to face the voice that speaks from the entrance. The crow man has returned, this time without a certain noisy monster in his arms, long gone after he went out to throw it off the school grounds. “But if that's the case, then we will have to send you three back to your homes. After all, we cannot accept magicless students here.”
Yes! Finally! Thank whatever god or entity has heard your pleas! As the crow man walks towards the mirror, passing Riddle, and the other quiet students, you can't help but almost cry tears of joy at the thought of finally being able to return home and leave this nightmare of a day and place behind.
As soon as you get home, you'll tell your dad to shove that part-time job at the police station where the sun doesn't shine, and you'll lock yourself inside your bedroom for the rest of the summer, completely forgetting that this day ever happened. You’ll never set foot near the police station unless it’s necessary.
The crow man, standing in front of the mirror, stretches his arms out to his sides, a powerful aura suddenly emanating from his body as a mysterious wind shakes the crystal chandelier and the charred curtains. “O, Mirror of Darkness, guide these children back to where they belong!” you close your eyes in anticipation, waiting to wake up somewhere in the streets or inside the police station. ‘Just get us out of here!’
Yet, there’s a terrifying silence, one that takes what feels like hours to break, but in reality, it’s a few seconds. “It is nowhere to be found. Nowhere in this world does there exist a place where these three souls belong,” the voice booms the terrifying reality and the whispers of the students come back at full force.
You can't describe how you feel right now, the only word that comes to mind is "dread." You want to cry, scream at the sky, curse whoever dragged you to this place. You place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating a mile an hour, your breath coming in short gasps as you try to calm yourself internally. 'Now is not the time, I have to keep a cool head, I have nothing to gain if I just start to panic!'
“That can't be true! If our place doesn't exist, how is it possible that the carriage picked us up!?” Yuuken appears on your left side, his face drained of color, and you notice his chest rise and fall rapidly, experiencing the same emotions as you. The blonde man on your opposite side is eerily quiet, however, you feel him nod at the black-haired words.
It’s true what Yuuken says, how can the mirror possibly claim that the world you’re from doesn’t exist? Unless you’ve somehow been living inside a simulation, your body once occupied a physical space back in your world where you experience sensations like touch, smell, and taste.
You suffered from injuries, a broken finger, scraped knees, knife cuts, burns, and even two rejections. You’ve laughed, smiled, cried, been angry, felt proud, scared and so many other emotions in places that you remember clearly in your memory.
At this point, you’ve come to accept that you’re nowhere near home, you’re stuck in a place where magic is real and palpable, perhaps you’ve somehow ended up in a different plane of existence, but, for your world to not be even real?
No… that can’t be… claiming that your world does not exist is a blatant lie! Whatever is going on here, either somebody is hiding the truth and playing dumb or your captor has decided to play a cruel game and involve other people in it. ‘That mirror is by far the most suspicious one out of anyone in the room, but it looks like he won’t let up easily, so how can I get answers from him?’
“Where are you three from again?” you’re snapped out of your thoughts by the gentle voice of the crow man, who in your stupor, failed to notice him has turned around to face you three. His golden gaze is a lot softer as he addresses the three of you, most likely taking pity at the words of the mirror.
“We're from a town called Kotohira, in Kagawa Prefecture, Japan,” the faces of those in front of you are painted with puzzled expressions, the red-head even closing his eyes in an attempt to rack his brain attempting to remember if there even is a place with that name in this world. Unfortunately, judging by the crow man’s expression, your hometown doesn’t ring a bell.
“Where exactly is this? Many of our students come from all over the world, but I've never heard of this place,” suddenly, as if an idea had dawned on him, the crow man's eyes narrowed as a hand scratches his chin. His soft eyes quickly switching to a scrutinizing gaze. “Are you... please don't tell me you three are lying to me.”
‘I wish I had selective hearing like these guys.’ You're tired, you're usually good at debating and dealing with stubborn people, experience from school and multiple part-time jobs have blessed you with those skills, but it seems the exhaustion of the day coupled with an existential crisis has completely drained you to the bone. You just want to go home.
A tired and purposely loud sigh leaves your lips as your hands dig through your bag, looking for your wallet. “Believe me, we have nothing to gain by lying to you. Here, you two... if you have any kind of identification, we should show it to him to clear our names,” you don't wait for the others as you hand two small cards to the crow man: one is an Individual Number Card and the other is a motorcycle license. You point a finger towards the residency line, as the crow man examines the small object with great interest.
The other two dig through their pockets as well, Yuuken hands over his high school ID, while the blond man almost hands over three cards, but chooses at the last minute to give only one to the crow man, a Japanese driver's license. Though he quickly tucks it away, you manage to catch a glimpse of the other two IDs, noticing that each is a different color and even has a different language.
The extravagant man examines the cards, yet shakes his head after a few seconds. "I see... my, this is quite puzzling. I'm terribly sorry, but I've never heard of this place before, so if the mirror says it can't return you there... I'm afraid I can't do much either", the crow man hands you back your IDs with a disappointed yet perplexed look.
So this is it? You're stuck here with no way to get home? You feel the color draining from your face as your legs suddenly turn to jelly, the headache increasing in intensity as countless thoughts swirl in your mind. No matter how hard you try to suppress your emotions, you have run out of ideas on how to get home, as such, panic has made itself home in your cognition.
Fortunately, you don't fall into your dark thoughts when Yuuken suddenly grabs your wrist and looks at the crow man with a fierce gaze. “If the carriage found a way to get us here from our world, we can find it ourselves. So we'll make it back on our own. Thank you very much for your help!” you don't get a chance to protest as the Kendo student begins to drag you towards the exit.
His grip is rather gentle on your wrist, the complete opposite of the harsh tone he used to address the rest of the people in the room. Yet you can’t help but go into overdrive at the idea the kendo student proposed. “Wait, Enma, how is that going to work? We don't even know what path the carriage took!” you whisper to him, worried about where to start looking.
Yet Yuuken simply turns to you, a small smile on his face, switching his grip from your wrist to hold your left hand, those sharp eyes giving you a warm look, as if to comfort you. “Sorry, but it's better than just standing here and dealing with these guys, right?” well, he has a good point.
The blond man, amused by the whole confrontation, doesn't spare a glance at the stunned crowd as he quietly follows you two, the pain from the earlier fall not affecting his movements at all. You make a mental note to check for bruises on his torso once you're in a safe place away from all these people, as you highly doubt that falling from that height would leave him unscathed.
“Goodness! You three! Hold on a second!” as if snapping from a dream, believing that the words declared by Yuuken were nothing but a product of his imagination, the crow suddenly shouts, his voice now sounding far away.
At a fast pace, you and the other two men finally reach the gigantic oak doors that shield this room from the outside world, ignoring the command of the extravagant man. Yuuken uses his free hand to push the doors open, a gust of wind invades the room, in its invisible yet short path, it ruffles and messes with the hair and clothes of those sitting near the entrance and blows out the candles on a candelabra that managed to survive the monster's attack.
The air feels very good on your skin, which still suffers from the high temperature caused by the beast's fire. It's a momentary relief from the turmoil that has taken place in less than an hour.
“My, this landscape looks like something out of a fantasy book. What a breathtaking view,” the blond man's voice startles you as he suddenly stands at your right side, causing you to turn your head to look at him in surprise. The man chuckles softly at your reaction before his slender fingers gently grasp your chin, forcing you to look at what lies before you.
Your cheeks turn slightly red and warm at the sudden contact but you have to agree with his statement, as in front of you stretches a magnificent huge land filled with trees and night lights, and nestled among the lush greenery are various gothic-style buildings. At the edge of the horizon, you notice the majestic and ever-expanding blue deep sea hidden behind pointy rocky mountains, while the beautiful moon hangs over it, its warm yellow light reflected in the ripples of the water.
‘We are either on an island or somewhere near the beach. In either case, we might be near a port. The crow man did say that the students from this school come from all over the world, perhaps the carriage or our coffins were transported via boat.’
However, Yuuken isn't as mesmerized by the view, and he drops his gym bag while looking up at the sky in utter shock. Following his gaze, you notice several cloaked students floating in the air as they mount antique broomsticks. "Dude, Misato's gonna fucking flip out when we tell him what happened at the entrance ceremony," two students laugh as they fly off, most likely to harass their friend.
The Kendo student rubs his eyes hastily, as if he had just woken up and thought he was still dreaming. “I’m not seeing things, right?… Pembroke, where are we?” he sounds so desperate and lost as he questions what he sees. Your stomach twists in knots as you can’t find a feasible answer to give him, you just shake your head with a solemn look.
If the thought that your home doesn't exist and that you're somewhere you can't recognize is driving you to near despair and madness, you can't even begin to imagine how your other two companions feel. They were ripped away from their families, friends, and their lives, ending up in an unknown magical fantasy world with hostile people and no current way to return.
The blond man, however, seems more curious about his surroundings than worried, perhaps that is his way of dealing with whatever is going on. He begins to walk down the massive flight of stone stairs, pausing momentarily to turn to look back at you two with a mischievous smile yet his eyes are warm. “Weren’t you the one who suggested we find our way back? Let's go, we lose precious minutes just standing around.”
The man extends his hand towards you, the jewels on his fingers shining beautifully against the moonlight and this whole scene reminds you of the end of a fairy tale, where the protagonists set out on their way to the unknown destination.
However, there is something that has been eating at your brain out of pure curiosity since the moment the blond opened his eyes. The description of the two policemen inside the file room repeats itself over and over again every time your sight lands on the man. “Excuse me, before we go, I want to ask you a question,” you walk down a couple of stairs to stand in front of him, having to tilt your head up a little to be able to look him in the eyes. He nods, a flash of curiosity momentarily lighting his eyes up at your question.
"You are... Figaro Koskela, right?" upon hearing his name leave your lips, you notice his face darken, and what seems like a scowl etches on his face, but it is a reaction that is practically fleeting, being replaced with a mocking smile. “Oh my, what a lovely surprise! Are you perhaps a fan of my work?” you can clearly hear that his cheerful tone is completely forced, compared to the way he mocked Riddle earlier which seemed a lot more natural. You don't understand why his name brings him such disgust, but you won't pry on it.
“Unfortunately, I haven't had the pleasure of witnessing your works. Actually, I know you because you disappeared two days ago while returning from a party,” his eyes widen and you notice his elegant air disappear the moment the words leave your mouth. You turn to look at the Kendo student, who is now paying close attention to the conversation between the two of you. “Yuuken... you too have been declared missing, after you left the gym.”
You don't waste a single breath as you tell them everything you know: the information you gathered at the police station, the bizarre sound, and the corrupted CCTV footage. You also quietly accept that you've most likely suffered the same fate as your two companions have.
Yuuken's face turns pale and his lips tremble as you recount his grandmother's sobs and worried face, he quickly ducks his head and hides his face from you as a hand shoots up and harshly wipes away his tears. Fígaro, on the other hand, looks somber, lost in his thoughts as he stares at the horizon.
You didn't want to hide any of this, as it might be important information to explain why you suddenly appeared in this strange world. But seeing their reaction, your stomach twists into knots as you scratch your fingers nervously. "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," you apologize softly, but your voice snaps both men out of their thoughts. Yuuken sniffles, painfully trying to hide his feelings from you and puts on a strong front, though his red and swollen eyes betray him. “No, it's okay. Thank you for telling us,” Fígaro nods at the black-haired words, and his dark expression changes to one of warmth. “We should still follow Enma's original plan, it might lead us back home.”
But before you can nod in agreement, a pair of hurried footsteps catches up with you and you turn to face the crow man, who is standing at the giant doors, slightly out of breath and clutching his staff to his chest. “You three... my, you walk fast... it's dangerous to walk around at night in a place you don't know! Especially since you three have no magical abilities,” the crow man chokes on his breath as he speaks in a rather shrill tone. His expensive shoes click loudly on the stone steps as he walks towards you three, his decorated fingers ruffling his feathered coat, dusting off any dirt, and adjusting his mask.
He clears his throat as the tip of his wooden cane thumps loudly on the floor. “But since I'm so gracious, I have a suggestion!” you cringe quietly at his self-complement, but Fígaro and Yuuken seem more interested in the latter part of his sentence, paying close attention to the extravagant man. “There's an empty house that was once used as a dormitory. It would break my heart to kick you out, so you three can stay there in the meantime!”
The suggestion sounds good, in fact, considering your circumstances, it sounds almost too perfect. He was so adamant just a moment ago that non-magical students can’t be here, and yet, he suddenly offers a home? Even though the crow man seems more than excited about the proposal, you still have your doubts, and it seems that your companions do as well.
“Wait, wait, don't be too hasty, there's a catch, isn't there? I highly doubt that you're just offering us a free place to stay out of the goodness of your heart…” There are kind people in this world, you don't doubt it, but something tells you that this man isn't just going to let you stay here for free, even if he's aware of your circumstances.
Of course, you hit the nail right on the head as the crow man closes his eyes and smiles at you with a wide grin. "Ah, you would make such an exemplary student! Why, yes! I can't just let you mooch off me, so, food and clothing will have to come out of your own pockets," he walks by the three of you, his cape flowing with the wind, and quickly turns to face you, though, you can't help but feel slightly intimidated by him.
“As such, I would like you to do some jobs around the campus. Don’t worry the pay is good” - you highly doubt that- “Oh my, my kindness truly knows no bounds!” you cringe at his abundant self-love, but thankfully, the crow man doesn’t notice as he heads down the stairs with a slight bounce. “Now, come along, children!”
As the night wind blows caressing your skin, you look up to face the dark sky that’s decorated with small silver stars and the comforting moon. Somewhere out there, is your world, your home, slowly rotating. There, in Kotohira, your family must be worried for you, desperately searching for you in every nook and cranny. Yuuken’s grandparents and Fígaros guardians are most likely conflicted and distressed as their children are nowhere to be found.
‘Will we… be able to return home one day?’ After all, the proposition of a place to stay and a job is a sign that you won’t get out of here any time soon.
Yuuken, sensing your distress as you failed to move from your spot, gently intertwined your hand with his and slightly tugs at it, directing your attention from the never-ending void to his eyes. A warm gaze comforts your nervousness and you can’t help but return his kindness with a small smile. “Come on, let’s go.”
You nod and follow along. However, you fail to notice a pair of green eyes watching you.
Objection! Stand your ground! Marvelous! (Twisted Wonderland x Reader)
← Prologue | Masterlist | Chapter 2 →
Word count: 4.4 k.
WARNING: N/A
Note: thank you for the likes, reblogs, and comments! I'm really happy you guys are enjoying this story! This chapter is based on the beginning of the manga "Disney Twisted Wonderland - Episode of Heartslaby
You stand on the edge of a cliff. Below you, your boots leave deep impressions in the dark green grass, and the loose parts of your wet clothes dance with the violent wind.
A storm. It was supposed to be a thunderstorm, but somehow it turned into a powerful hurricane.
You can't see what's in front of you, just three silhouettes — on the opposite sides of you are two people you believe to be male. They're screaming, but not a sound is coming out of their mouths.
But there's a third figure in front of you, a terrifying gigantic creature emerging from a whirlpool created by the pale blue sea.
Elongated limbs with claw-like fingers extend into oblivion, a set of pointy teeth form a psychotic smile that opens and closes as if it is laughing or talking, and sharp spikes sprout from its head, forming a crooked crown. But what scares you the most are its empty, void-like eyes. Even though the creature is shrouded in darkness, you can feel it staring at you. Not with anger or hunger, but… with curiosity.
“Kneel, for before you rises the king of gods!”
The gray light in front of you casts a shadow on the monster, making it appear ethereal, even though its form is that of what you would find in your worst nightmares.
“Thine presence in this world…”
Before the voice can finish its sentence, you awaken.
Everything around you is silent. Small particles of dust dance around your body, landing softly on your hair, eyelids, and chest. You feel dizzy as your eyes open and confusion sets in as you find yourself surrounded by a terrifying darkness. It's so dark that you can only see your own hands and shoes and nothing beyond.
The piercing headache from earlier has now subsided to a mild throbbing, a reminder of the voices that once plagued your thoughts, begging you to reveal your hidden desires. Under your hands you feel a velvety surface, like that of felt, gently scratching against your palms. Your back feels warm, but the rest of your body is strangely cold.
"Where am I?" you whisper weakly, raising a hand to reach into the void, only to come in contact with an icy, solid surface a few inches away from your body. Moving the rest of your limbs, you try to measure how much space you have, only to find yourself constantly bumping into a steel-like material.
You feel enclosed, as if you have been placed inside a box. And suddenly, a flood of memories comes back, the scenes flash like a movie as you remember the horses, the missing people, the hearse carrying three coffins... wait a minute.
"Am I... dead?"
No way! You can still feel temperatures and sensations, so you must still be alive. But just in case, you decide to double-check, as your hand immediately flies to your neck and quickly finds your carotid artery. You breathe a small sigh of relief as you feel the pulse of your heart beating against your fingers, but your stomach drops as you reach a secondary and more terrifying conclusion.
You are going to be buried alive!?
Panic runs through your veins as your hands fly over to the object on top of your body, and you begin to push with all your might. Damn it! You don't want to die like this, you thought your death would at least be peaceful and in your sleep, surrounded by your loved ones or your precious and extremely expensive figurines. Instead, you probably got run over by a horse and are now being buried alive by accident or worse, on purpose!
There’s something strange though, as you don’t feel any pain. You were most likely crushed beneath an animal that on average weighs around 900 to a thousand pounds, followed then by a vehicle that’s carrying three coffins. Yet you feel completely normal, minus the small headache. No body pain, no broken bones, not even a single scratch. Just what is going on!?
But your thoughts come to a screeching halt as you feel your hands push the lid open with surprising ease. After applying a little more force, the lid slams against something, the loud sound making you cringe. Light finally pours into the small, darkened space and your eyes squint, taking a while to adjust to the brightness.
"Holy shit! Someone else managed to open the 'door' by themselves!" you hear hushed and surprised whispers outside your box, eerily reminiscent of the voices that plagued your mind earlier, but thankfully not coming from inside your head. ‘Okay, time to find out who the hell wanted to bury me alive.’
You stumble out of the space, your bag smacking the side of your thigh as you accidentally miscalculated the distance between the floor and where you're standing, but fortunately, you don't fall. The whispering grows even louder, as if your appearance stirs something in the room. The slightly warm air from the room brushes against your cold skin, sending a shiver down your spine as you open your eyes to examine your surroundings.
An enormous glass chandelier hangs over your head, its warm light reflecting off the huge mirror that strangely floats below. Elegant curtains are placed in front of the tall windows with intricate designs showing the stars that decorate the dark sky, and in their reflection, you can see the flames of the small candles softly dancing.
Your eyes widened in disbelief at the hundreds of coffins floating softly around the mirror, the lid in yours fully open revealing a burgundy-colored interior. Were you drugged? No, maybe you're still dreaming! Nothing like this is physically possible unless you have landed in some sort of simulation, or perhaps you somehow ended up inside an elaborate theme park.
As you turn your head around to see the source of the whispering, you can feel the color drain from your face as your mouth hangs open in pure shock and your stomach lurches. Sitting in rows of pews there’s a sea of people in front of you, wearing elaborate black and purple cloaks that obscure their features. “Is this a cult!?” you can’t help but shout at the scene in front of you, quickly backing away from them as if they were a group of predators. Your outburst causes some figures in the crowd to snicker and snort at your comment, others taking out their phones or using their figures to point at you.
“Honestly, you children are very impatient! Coming through the door of your own accord is practically unheard of”, a voice speaks in an exasperated tone, as you hear the sound of a cane approaching. Instinctively, you turn in the direction of the voice and laugh almost sarcastically when you see the person standing in front of you. You're too tired and confused to even question what's going on.
What the hell is that man wearing? Two glowing orbs are staring right at you from behind a crow mask, the over-the-top feather coat completely ruining the rest of his expensive-looking outfit. You wonder how long it takes this man to get dressed and undressed, given the amount of accessories he carries.
"Hello? Are you listening, young-", out of the corner of your eye, the crow man slowly approaches, golden claw rings shining in the warm light of the chandelier as a hand reaches out to you. Out of instinct to get away from this man, your hand quickly reaches into your pocket before coming in contact with a small rectangular object.
Driven by pure adrenaline and desperation to get out of this place, you pull out said object and point it at the man, who recoils in shock. Wasting no time, you turn the device on and press the button, a flash of light followed by a crackling sound has the man emitting a short shriek. "One more step and you'll be eating 50,000 volts of pure electricity, my friend."
"What is wrong with you two!? First, you break the door and get out before being called, and now you two are threatening me with weapons!" Two? Who else is he talking about? The man steps aside, revealing the other person he was referring to, a young man holding a large covered object while pointing it at the crow man.
Your breath catches as you instantly recognize the undercut haircut and piercing eyes. You briefly recall his grandmother's screams and the CCTV footage of him exiting the gym before it cuts to black still very fresh in your mind.
"Yuuken Enma?" you whisper his name in disbelief, it feels unreal to see him in the flesh after spending so much time discussing his disappearance.
Hearing his name, the Kendo student turns in your direction, his eyes widening in surprise, and he opens his mouth to speak, but he resumes his defensive position as soon as the crow man moves again.
"Please, both of you, calm down, I mean no harm!" he raises his hands in surrender, and you loosen the grip on your taser slightly. You have tons of questions that desperately need to be answered, and it doesn't look like the crow man has any intention of harming you.
To be honest, he looks even paler than when you first saw him, so it's best to interrogate him before he shuts down and refuses to answer any questions.
"No offense, dude, but you're suspicious as hell," you suddenly find Yuuken standing at your side, still holding what you assume to be his Kendo sword. When did he get here? You weren't the only one who didn't notice the sudden movement, as the crow man stares back and forth from where the Kendo student once stood to you.
Anyway, you don't have time for this, you want to get out of this bizarre place as soon as possible. "Where are we?" you begin, getting straight to the point. At your question, the crow man relaxes, his shoulders straightening as he clears his throat. "I see, you two aren't quite lucid yet. Ah! Must be the effects of transportation fogging your brains," he whispers the last part, a pointy finger scratching his chin.
You and Yuuken exchange a confused look. With a sigh, the crow closes his eyes before continuing. "Very well, let me explain. You're currently at Night Raven College, a magic school in Twisted Wonderland. Here, students with exceptional magic gather and are trained to become the best magicians in the world," he explains, proudly puffing out his chest like a bird as he finishes his explanation.
On the contrary, you and Yuuken are completely lost, the explanation making no sense to any of you. "Ma... gic... As in the type you see in an anime or a movie?" the black-haired boy asks innocently, his eyes widening in shock. You can hear the previously silent "students" now laughing softly at the two of you, mockery evident in their voices as they whisper between each other. Fuck this, you're so over this sick joke!
"I don't know what kind of crazy cult you're running here, but we want nothing to do with it!" you yell, this time tightening your grip on the taser. Even though you're speaking on behalf of Yuuken, you can guarantee that he's also incredibly disturbed by what's going on here.
"Well, you're here because the Mirror of Darkness" — the crow-man points to the giant floating mirror in the middle of the room — "has recognized your magical abilities. You were picked up by a carriage, weren't you?" you instantly remember the panic that ran through you as you watched the horses run towards you. That thing going so fast was supposed to pick you up?
You slowly nod. "I see! Now that we're done clearing up any questions, it's time for the entrance ceremony to begin!" his tone suddenly changes to a more cheerful one and the crow man begins to walk away with a slight bounce in his step. Millions of questions run through your mind, but his nonchalant reaction makes you even more angry.
"Wait a damn minute! We were never even informed of this decision! Our families must be so worried, we suddenly just disappeared out of the blue!" you yell angrily, while Yuuken nods fervently at your side. "Yes! Besides, the two of us can't even use magic!" This sentence seems to silence the entire room. Suddenly, the student's eyes feel like bullets as they dig into your back and neck, staring at you with scrutiny or surprise.
"What did you say?" the crow man stops and turns to look at you with a puzzled expression on his face. Is this man on drugs? No one can use magic!
Fortunately, Yuuken has grown tired of the conversation and prepares to leave, swinging his Kendo sword over his right shoulder and grabbing the strap of his gym bag with his free hand. "This is pointless! Pembroke and I have important things to do, and our families must be worried. So excuse us," you're surprised he knows your last name since the two of you never really interacted.
But you don't pay much attention to it, giving the crow man a nod before turning off your taser and stowing it in your bag as you follow Yuuken down the large corridor. The whispers of the "students" now turn into full conversations, expressing their disbelief that the two of you would just walk away from a "once in a lifetime opportunity", as one of them put it.
Yeah, right... being kidnapped from your hometown to suddenly wake up in a coffin with bizarre special effects decorating a gothic-looking room, and having a cult leader with furry tendencies dressed like a crow tell you that you're in a school where they can teach you magic. Ha! ‘A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, my ass.’
Behind you, you hear a gasp before a pair of footsteps quickly approach the two of you.“W-wait just a moment! Let’s all calm down and–”
BAM!
The sound of breaking glass frightens everyone in the room, shocked gasps and quiet screams can be heard as everyone turns to face the source of the sound. The window behind the mirror now has a huge hole in the middle of it. Shards of crystal fall at your feet, but what scares you most is the creature that has caused such a scene.
A rather large gray cat with blue flames sprouting from its ears and a tattered black and white ribbon tied around its neck stands proudly on its hind legs. Its right paw reaches to the sky, showing a row of sharp claws before it points them at you and Yuuken. "I've been listening to ya!" it, no, he shouts proudly. "Do ya know how many people would kill for a chance to get into this school?"
The little guy walks awkwardly towards you, and you can't help but freak out as you stare at whatever this creature is. "So, tell ya what? If you don't want it, let me enroll in your place!" the cat exclaims happily, a grin spreading across his face. You can hear the crow man complaining about something, but you're too busy trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
"Pembroke," Yuuken's soft voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you turn to face the young man. A look of pure disbelief is on his face as he points a finger at the creature. "Why is the raccoon talking?" the creature's face contorts into an expression of annoyance, the flames on its ears growing larger in pure rage. "HUH!? I AM NOT A RACCOON! I am the Great Grim, who’s going to become the greatest wizard of all time!"
You’re going to pass out. Laughter can be heard across the room as the "students" criticize and mock the cat's sentences. This angers the creature even more. "Yeah right! A monster becoming a wizard? As if!" a certain row of students to your left roars in laughter at the thought, but you are more concerned with the next words "Grim" says.
“OH YEAH!? I just have to show ya, what I’m made of!” the creature spits a small ball of flames as a test try, before inhaling a large gulp of air and–
FWOOSH!
He’s setting the students on fire!
In a matter of seconds, the entire room is engulfed in blue fire and chaos. The beautiful linen curtains burn quickly, you hear how the chandeliers fall and the metal twists in the flames, and you feel Yuuken take your wrist as he guides you through the sea of people trying to escape the room.
The students scream in panic, and you end up helping several of them extinguish their cloaks that have caught fire. As one boy thanks you under his breath for the help and promptly heads for the door, another guy accidentally runs into you while screaming at the top of his lungs, the tail of his cloak slowly burning.
You don't waste a second before stomping on the fabric, quickly extinguishing the fire as the boy breathes a sigh of relief. "Thanks for the help!" he replies in a cheerful tone, surprising given the situation, short white hair peeking out from under the hood as his red eyes stare up at you. He's quickly led away by another man who carries him to safety.
Your head swivels again as you hear more cries for help, but out of the corner of your eye, you see a strange movement in the background.
One of the coffins floating near the ceiling begins to move violently from side to side. You don't know if it's the heat waves or the smoke that's making you cough and sneeze, but you swear you can see the lid starting to open. You are still unable to move, a blockade has now formed at the entrance of the room, and the students are shouting in panic for those at the front to move.
"I'm not done yet!" Grim continues to spit small balls of fire, not aiming at anything, just showing off the amount of chaos he can cause. Your eyes briefly focus on the creature jumping happily in the middle of the room- ‘That thing's a tiny psychopath!’ -but your attention is quickly diverted as you hear a loud banging noise.
Your eyes focus on the previously moving coffin, the lid now open and whoever was inside is lying on his side on the floor, completely still. The flames continue to spread and you soon realize that the most likely unconscious person is incredibly close to a curtain that is about to be completely consumed by the fire.
"Enma! I’m going over there! Another person has escaped from the coffin! You get out!" you free your wrist from Yuuken's grip and move skillfully through the crowd, slowly approaching the person.
‘Move! Move! Someone is about to be burned alive!’
Yuuken shouts for you to wait for him, but you don't pay attention, as you manage to get out of the crowd and can move more freely. The person is already a few meters away from you, curling himself into a fetal position, the fall of the coffin has possibly knocked the air out of him, or worse, a rib may have been broken. ‘Shit! Hopefully, the injury isn’t too bad!’
You're stopped in your tracks, however, when a red-haired young man crosses your path and begins to make his way to Grim with full determination. "First people refuse to enroll, and now a monster breaks in? How dare you sully our initiation ceremony!" the young man points what looks like a pen at the creature, who glares back at him with a frown.
"You... REMOVE YOURSELF FROM THIS SCHOOL IMMEDIATELY!" his scream projects throughout the room, causing some of the students who were previously panicking to stop dead in their tracks. You, on the other hand, are completely taken aback by the display in front of you. What is this kid thinking? Does he have a death wish!? Grim, however, takes his command as a challenge, as you can see the hairs on his back stand up, and this time he stands on all four paws.
"Get out of my WAY!" the small creature screams, spewing a huge ball of blue fire straight at the boy. Even from where you stand, you can feel the heat of the fire warming your skin. The boy does not even attempt to move out of the path of the threat, much less impressed at the magnitude of the attack.
You turn your head to look at the crowd behind you, staring intently at the scene. "HEY! ALL OF YOU, GET ON THE GROUND, NOW!" you yell, snapping some students out of their stupor.
Instinctively, as if you were a puppet, your legs move on their own as you run toward the redheaded boy, the projectile growing larger and larger. Your right arm quickly hooks around the young man's waist, and you pull him hard against your chest, he gasps in surprise as his hands clench into fists and grab a hold of your shirt. You pay no attention to it, more preoccupied with the threat in front of you, so you quickly maneuver your two bodies away from the path of the fireball.
You turn your head to look at the students, who fortunately heard your command, as they lie flat on the floor, the fire quickly leaving the building through the open doors and exploding in the air outside. Some students scream at the sound, hands flying to their ears; from the corner of your eye, you see Yuuken covering the heads of some boys, shielding them from the debris.
You breathe a sigh of relief, thankful that nobody got hurt. But the momentary calmness is gone when you hear someone grunting in anger. "You... JUST WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" the pair of hands that were clinging to your shirt now lie flat on your shoulders, and he shoves you, hard, your back hitting the side of a nearby pew, the air momentarily leaving your lungs.
You stare owlishly at the red-haired boy, who doesn't even spare you a glance as he points his pen at Grim. ‘How the hell does such a tiny person have so much power?’
Your lungs feel like they're on fire, the room spinning as the throbbing of your headache seems to rear its ugly head around the corner. You feel two pairs of hands grab your forearms tightly, lifting you off the ground with ease, and you come face to face with Yuuken, whose expression is one of concern.
"Pembroke, are you okay?" the tone of his voice is soft, you can hear it despite the screams and relaxation in the background. You nod slightly, the adrenaline coursing through your veins a few minutes ago now replaced by exhaustion. "The guy... the one who fell out of the coffins," you remember the poor man writhing on the ground in pain and Yuuken takes his eyes off your face for a moment to observe where the boy is.
"I'll go get him, you get out of here, and we'll meet again outside. Can you walk?" the Kendo student studies your appearance with complete determination, and you nod quickly, praying that nothing has happened to the boy. You feel a tad intimidated underneath his watchful eyes.
After a few seconds of staring, the two of you separate, Yuuken swing his gym bag on his free shoulder, sprinting towards the figure at full speed while you make your way to the entrance, helping various students up from the floor and pushing them to get out of the boiling hot room.
"SILENCE!" the redheaded boy yells behind you, but you ignore him, still pushing through the crowd. "Get ready!" someone steps hard on your foot, and you're pushed, your body turning to the opposite side. Yuuken grabs the injured man's arm and swings it over his shoulder, helping him to stand.
"OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!" your eyes shift to the redhead, watching the tip of the pen lights up before it shoots a bright light. Dust-like particles, twinkling like stars, surround the creature's neck before a heart-shaped collar magically appears on the creature, who screams in disbelief.
‘… No way… there’s no way…’
"What is this thing? Get this shit off me!" Grim uses his small paws to pull at the collar, then his hind legs to kick at it, but the object doesn't even move. His head whips around to look at the redhead with fury, and he sucks in air again to launch another attack. But this time, not even a tiny flame comes out of its mouth. "HA!? My magic! What have you done to the Great Grim?"
The red-haired boy sneers, and even from where you're standing, you can feel the shit-eating grin he's giving the monster. "I used my magic to seal yours," the Grim's eyes widen in shock as he continues to kick at the collar, unintelligible complaints and colorful words coming out of his mouth.
Soon, several cloaked figures begin to use their "magic" to put out the fire, spraying water on the flames that are eating away at the curtains and carpet. Another group focuses on calming the students, getting them back into the room, and checking for injuries; fortunately, it doesn't appear that anyone has been badly burned beyond their clothing.
Suddenly, the crow man, who you strangely didn't see during all the chaos, reappears from the shadows and proudly claps as he heads towards the red-head. "As expected from the Heartslabyul house warden! Great catch, Mr. Riddle Rosehearts!"
Suddenly, the crow man, who you strangely didn't see during all the chaos, reappears from the shadows and proudly claps as he heads toward the redhead. "As expected from the Heartslabyul house warden! Great catch, Mr. Riddle Rosehearts!"
The boy named Riddle is showered with compliments, however, he ignores them, more concerned with cleaning the dust and debris that have soiled his cloak. But, between the celebrations and gasps of relief, you and Yuuken stare at each other with pale complexions and worried looks. It's clear you're both thinking the same thing.
The monster, the magic fire, the heart-shaped collar and the pen... where exactly are you right now? How far away from home are you?
