hello! this is a twisted wonderland blog designed to explore a college au for the game's original plot. i was disappointed the game is set at night raven college when they really meant high school, so i decided to fix that myself as a fanfic writer. the characters here are all depicted as college-age students (except for ortho, who is always written platonically) with more details linked below.
note: this blog is 18+ and this au is written for an older audience in mind. minors dni. there is a possibility that there will be nsfw or dark content featured on or interacted with by this blog-- if this makes you uncomfortable, feel free to scroll! it will all be tagged appropriately. minors, do not engage please!
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rules + byf โ college au details โ masterlist
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i don't take actual requests. i find i don't really feel as inspired when i feel obligated to write something. but i do take suggestions-- if you have a fun idea, i'd love to hear it! also chatting, sharing jokes, generally engaging in fun fandom shenanigans, all of it is something i'd love to see as well! feel free to hang out in my ask box so long as you are respectful and here to have a good time.
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#garden directory - navigation posts
#garden guide - masterlists
#garden guests - asks and mail
โฟโฟ current guests: ๐ฆanon
characters will be tagged by name, and warnings will be tagged as "tw: trigger"
mornings in the pomefiore dorm are, well, interesting.
after the descruction of ramshackle dorm by the styx agents, you and grim are invited to spend the length of the repairs in one of pomefiore's spare rooms. it's a stunning dorm, truly, shining with jewel tones and elegant decor that sets it apart as the pinnacle of beauty amongst the others. but life continues on after yet another overblot, and with school to attend, you have plenty of mornings to experience the range of pomefiore's unique morning routines.
vil schoenheit wakes you up with the sun, insisting that a good day begins with a thorough and meticulous morning routine. you're dragged into his private bathroom and provided an herbal tea blend as he coaches you through a multi-layer skincare routine. your head is swimming as instructions and serums alike are given in his authoritative tone. is this a morning routine or a test? then it's off to yoga in his room as a face mask soaks into your tired skin. rinse, pat dry, then moisturize, all so your skin is prepped when he then guides you to his vanity. vil acts as though doing your makeup alongside his is such an inconvenience, yet refuses to let you wriggle out of this step-- as an honorary pomefiore resident, you will be as graceful and elegant as the rest of the dorm. you feel more awake (and much more sparkly) as you're brought downstairs to join the rest of the dorm for breakfast. a wide array of dishes catch your eye, all politely requested and passed between manicured hands as you consume the most dignified meal you've had in ages. grim is more than happy to shove various fruits down his greedy gullet as the morning progresses, but finds himself quite grumpy as he's forcibly wiped clean right after the meal is dismissed by a particularly demanding housewarden. the whole routine feels exhausting, and you wonder how vil brings himself to do it each and every day. but it's hard to argue with how energized and put together you feel by the end of the day, waltzing back to pomefiore when the day would have usually worn you ragged.
another morning, you're awoken by clinks and clanks somewhere downstairs, and a particular voice carries across the dorm that piques your curiousity. rook hunt is found in the kitchen, assisting some other pomefiore students with breakfast preparations. his face lights up as he sees you, and an energetic greeting from the frenchman makes you more exhausted than when you woke. he coaxes you into a seat at the edge of the kitchen for an impromptu lesson about the work ethic of pomefiore's finest, chattering as he hands you a mug of some warm tea. he's attentive to both you and the students around him. a student struggles with cutting open one of the fresh melons for breakfast and he swoops in to assist without complaint. the flex of his muscle underneath his nightclothes catches your eye as he uses a big knife to cut through the melon like butter, leaving everyone awestruck for just a moment before he continues on with the preparations like nothing had happened. grim makes his way downstairs as you and the vice housewarden are setting up the grand dining table, and you hear his groggy complaints as rook ushers you back upstairs to get ready for school. the hunter moves fast-- by the time you're done getting dressed and making yourself somewhat presentable, he's at your door once again, fully dressed with neatly applied makeup, welcoming you back downstairs with flourish. he oozes hospitality as he glides across the dining room back into the kitchen, effortlessly fixing place settings and touching up dishes as students begin to gather for breakfast. rook's across from you as the meal begins and flashes you a charming smile over his mug as he takes a sip. for such an oddball, he really is put together-- that is, until you squint to see a few freckles he didn't cover in all his hurrying this morning, visible only when he turns to ask vil how he slept. not so perfect, after all?
you don't realize how late it's gotten one morning, not until the door swings open and a panicked epel felmier begins shaking you awake. you hear something along the lines of "we overslept!" and "did ya even set an alarm, dummy?" in all your grogginess. grim begins to complain about the yelling, but hearing vil's sharp tone from somewhere in the hallway makes you sit straight up in a cold sweat. you and epel stare at each other with wide eyes for a few seconds. then it's a flurry of movement-- epel rushes out to get dressed, and you're yanking open the wardrobe to grab your wrinkled uniform you neglected to hang up the night before. epel had snuck in after lights out to complain about the endless rules at pomefiore with you, and the conversation lasted long enough that you both crawled into bed far too late to remember trivial things like "alarms" or "school". but now the consequence of that transgression rear its ugly head as you search frantically for your belt and grim's ribbon. you and epel nearly collide in the hallway once you're both halfway decent, and you tuck grim under your arm as the three of you book it to breakfast. vil's disappointed gaze watches you take your seat next to the first year. you're preparing for a scolding, but one never comes-- epel distracts the housewarden with a request to tutor you both for an upcoming potions exam. your supposed studiousness saves you a lecture, and epel playfully nudges your foot with his under the table.
a/n: heavily inspired by "i look in people's windows"-- aka, my fav holiday song atp
riddle rosehearts looks in people's windows.
the thick layer of snow covering sage's island is a leaden blanket upon the sounds of the evening, making the already half-empty street seem more barren than he expected. his boots crunch with each step as he trots along the sidewalk alone. puffs of his breath curl from his lips in the frigid air. each breath fogs up his glasses-- his first winter with them, after his dormmates scolded him for stubbornly refusing to acknowledge how his vision had started to fail him-- and he wipes at them, resigned to a half-blurry walk back to campus.
the island is quiet. most everyone is home for winter break. tonight is christmas eve. not even the staff remain on the island, leaving a smattering of students with no plans to linger in the dorms. riddle holds his head high as he volunteers to stay and do his rounds to make sure everyone left is safe over the break-- maybe if he keeps his eyes forward, he can avoid the sideways glances from his peers who know why he's alone for the holiday.
it all happened so fast. something welled up inside of him one evening, like a cancer or poison or hope, a defiance in which he confronted his mother about his dreams to pursue law. it was the first time he found himself wholly unreasonable when talking to his mother, unwilling to hear her try to force him to pursue whatever life plan she'd laid out in front of him. rebellion was satisfying. a weight had been lifted off of his chest as he was finally true to himself, his desires for the future.
he was cut off by his mother before the sun rose.
his first holiday alone feels hollow. it was to be expected, he supposed, but the awkward shame doesn't stop gathering in his throat just because he knew it was coming. the pitying glances feel like flames licking at his heels. he hates this feeling. the holidays had never been all that enjoyable growing up-- stiff, unemotional, just like the rest of his upbringing-- but at least he had a home to return to then.
christmas lights twinkle from houses lining the street on his way back to campus. the strawberry tart in his bag was a small treat to make the holiday special, but it felt heavy and awkward in the paper bag tucked under his arm, like a white flag of surrender. dessert for one. a signal that someone will wake up alone, celebrate alone, as the year draws to a close.
riddle's eyes catch movement in an open window. the curtains are pulled back, revealing a group gathering around a dining table. all at once, the heartache of the past few months begins to hit.
you went home. your home. some foreign land he'd never heard of, completely removed from twisted wonderland. he hears your voice when he's alone, the quivers and catches as your said your goodbyes on a loop as he makes tea or studies in the library. you disappeared into the mirror. alone. never to be heard from again. he watched his underclassmen put on a brave face, thinking to himself about how pitiful they looked with glossy eyes and twisted grimaces-- hypocritical, knowing he must look the same.
you're a staple in his thoughts. the magicless prefect, back in their magicless world, reunited with friends and family after you were whisked away into an unfamiliar world. are you happy? healthy? do you miss the life you had? in his fantasies, you yearn to return to the way things were, to wake up one morning in your bedroom in ramshackle and trot across campus with that same aloof look he'd come to recognize you for. you'd be home.
the group around the table continues with their lighthearted chatter trapped behind the icy window pane. riddle's heart thumps against his chest. he doesn't even realize he has stilled where he stands, staring hard into a stranger's home like some deranged weirdo.
what if it was possible to see you again?
he grasps at the thought so hard that the tart in hand is unknowingly squished in a moment of fervor. his mind projects the image of you on these strangers. maybe you'd come into view with a wine glass in hand, laughing over some joke he can't hear and enjoying the smell of dinner cooking in someone's oven nearby. a christmas party in full swing, yet you'd peer outside, fuzzy from the liquor and missing someone, to spot a familiar redhead just outside with foggy glasses and the most intense stare you've ever seen.
what if your eyes looked up and met his one more time?
a/n two: happy holidays to anyone who might be on their own this christmas. may your day be peaceful and full of little joys that make the day special in its own way <3
the prophecy of the noisy upstairs neighbor always rings true, even unintentionally-- and you are riddle rosehearts' most obnoxious peer in the building.
somehow, he has grown fond of it.
the stairwell to the university apartments is, for as much as tuition is at such a prestigious academy, poorly sound-proofed. noise spills in through unsealed door gaps and thin walls. riddle's mother insisted on him avoiding the housing in central campus where trey and cater live-- something about distractions and other such frivolities-- and thus, here he is, in a less-than-luxurious accommodation far from any of his classes or friends. as expected. after switching his major going into his junior year from pre-med to pre-law, his mother's decisions regarding his education were just as icy as the glares she sent his way over silent dinners on holiday breaks. hearing his neighbors have weekend parties or intimate encounters was his punishment for straying from his mother's grasp in his early twenties.
familiar stomps echo up the stairwell. riddle sighs and peels off his glasses, discarding them beside his textbook. the gold rims glint under warm light from his desk lamp. those footsteps are yours, meaning he's been studying for almost four hours and has not retained a single word.
the minutes trickle by. riddle resolves to at least begin preparing for bed while his mind wanders aimlessly-- the lack of discipline is unusual for him, but, in all fairness, his friends have complained about him going overboard in studying for finals this term. but it feels less lonely to know in some way you have, too. your footsteps have woken him from a restless sleep more than once this past week.
it's a dance, almost. he hears your footsteps above him as he too wanders his apartment to settle in for the night. thumps echo above his living room-- you're in your own, assuming the layout of your apartments is the same-- as he's brushing his teeth before bed. your voice is muffled through the walls. you're always talking to something or someone when you get home. a friend on the phone, maybe? a pet? yourself? riddle wouldn't dream of knocking on your door to ask such a pointless question, no matter how his curiosity eats at him when your laugh spills from your open window on warm mornings. you are simply a footnote in his university experience. riddle cannot spare the time to make new friends-- would you even consider the notion?-- as he works overtime to catch up on classes in an attempt to graduate on time. his pride couldn't handle anything less.
and it's a lousy idea, to settle at his desk once more as your footsteps retreat to your bedroom above his. heavy eyes try in vain to focus on the notes he's scrawled in uniform lines across notebook pages. but then a pleasant tune begins to play from above, melodic and sweet...
it's you. inconsiderate of the time, too, as you abandon common courtesy to practice so late at night. that same violin he hears night after night, the one he's seen slung over your shoulder in a decorated case as you scurry off to morning classes, the siren song luring him into an ill-advised nap, just resting his eyes...
in the morning, when he wakes with a start and a crick in his neck, he'll be far less forgiving of your antics. riddle might even finally stomp up to your apartment and chew you out for breaking the curfew for quiet hours. but tonight, to the tune of the piece you've been rehearsing all week, riddle finally finds a restful sleep.
a/n: watched sleeping beauty for the first time today and had this idea
you've met him before.
you can feel it coming-- only once, the first time, had you ever been caught off guard. you always find yourself in the same forest clearing. the small chitters of animals accompany the gently sway of the trees. the sky is sunny, but you can never quite see the sun from where you stand. wandering too far into the hazy gray ether on the edge of the open glade led your feet back to the same spot where you found yourself originally.
the birds sing their song. you, too, find yourself humming along. the words are foreign to your mind, but not your tongue, as you utter a tune too familiar to be unknown entirely.
i know you, i walked with you once upon a dream...
you tend to busy yourself with whatever seems most enticing. boredom seldom finds you here, regardless of how many times you open your eyes to find the same tree line sprawled out before you. the animals here do not seem to fear you as they would in the world you know-- instead, they weave between your steps and follow your movements with a grace too easy to be natural. fear seldom finds you here, either.
i know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam...
your voice continues to carry through the trees, no matter how quiet you find your words. neither do they seem to waver when you realize you're not truly alone.
yet I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem...
most days, he joins you in ways that keep him hidden from your sight. a deep baritone voice melds with yours as you recite lyrics you can't quite predict-- a figure's shadow lingers just foggy edge of the glen. vivid green eyes peer from between the leaves of a nearby treetop while you crouch to pluck ripe berries fresh from the bush. you're always careful to watch for the thorns you can't see. on the days you find yourself swept up in some invisible music, captured in an aimless waltz, you feel a presence behind you guiding you through the steps with a poise ingrained in each blade of grass, each pleasant breeze and each leaf clinging to every branch.
the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. the strange baritone is closer now. smooth. too smooth. an icy cold blooms across the side of your neck, glacial in the same way the palms of your hands begin to stiffen from an unfamiliar drop in temperature. you turn to look behind you and catch a glint of silky raven hair and a sallow, sickly flash of skin fading into something dark and tall reaching towards the sky.
you awaken out of breath, heart pounding as you stare into the darkness. your bedsheets feel cold, almost untouched, around your body. the fan in the corner hums its same tune night after night. everything is as it should be.
from the window, you spot a pair of glowing green eyes. swirling, vivid, hypnotizing you to rise from the safety of your bed and march towards the unknown. yet... it's not quite unfamiliar, is it? no, you know those eyes. you've seen them before.
This might be coming out of the blue. Iโm typically a very private person and tend to stick with social circles Iโm already familiar with.
Recently, Iโve been thinking that it would be nice to put myself out there and interact more! I can get easily overwhelmed, so I thought a good way to go about this is to do a handful of art/writing trades. This keeps the number low and conversation approachable, and I think thatโd help slowly ease me into being more comfortable interacting and participating in community events.
Here are the parameters and other important notes (setting these for my own comfort and lifestyle):
This will be a Twisted Wonderland themed trade because thatโs the one thing we can guarantee to have in common.
Iโll write a fic for you! Minimum 1-2k words (but I tend to ramble so it could easily go higher than that), starring at least 2 characters (I can write more, but letโs not go too crazy and ask for all 22 NRC students in one fic).
I CAN write platonic, romantic, angst, fluff, yandere, AUs, etc.
Iโm okay with writing any and all TWST characters, including staff, RSA students, family members, and other NPCs.
Of course, OCs are also welcome! Iโd love to learn more about yours.
Be prepared with references for your OC(s) if applicable. This could include illustrations, but at the bare minimum should include a written explanation of who the character is, their personality, likes/dislikes, and relationships with canon characters.
There are limits to what I will write, as I am uncomfortable with some subject matters. For example, Iโm not willing to write anything pregnancy-related. We can discuss my โno goesโ in more detail if we decide to trade!
Upon request, I can do a simple digital piece of art OR a washi tape illustration (you wonโt receive the physical piece, just a picture of it) for you. I believe most people know me more for my writing, but I wanted to keep these options on the table!
You trade me a fic of your own OR an artwork of roughly the same quantity/quality. As the saying goes, โwhat you give is what you get.โ
We will talk and agree before we start on our pieces what each of us will generally provide at the end. (For example, a 5k word fic for a full color waist up illustration, 1k word fic for a black-white doodle, etc.)
You have to be okay with receiving a vague prompt. I like to be surprised, so Iโll probably just give you a list of general themes, ideas, and characters I like, then set you loose to see what you come up with.
You can be as specific as you like with your own prompt for me thoughโIโm flexible. Let me know what you donโt like as well so I can avoid including those elements.
To keep things fair, weโll both hold onto our pieces and exchange them at the same time.
Regarding my written piece, it will be in a Google Doc for you to access.
This is NOT first come, first serve. I can only realistically take on 3-5 trades at this time depending on interest and complexity. If I turn you down, itโs nothing personal!
Priority will be given to mutuals (chances are that thereโs more likely to be common ground if weโre already following each other).
Preference will be given to those indicated as adults in their blog intros/profiles (this is just what vibes the best with my personal communication style)
Be patient!! It may take me a few weeks or more to complete my part.
Be aware that doing a trade with me does NOT necessarily mean we will become best friends, and nor should this be the expectation ๐
If youโre okay with the above and are interested in a trade, please DM me! In your DM, you should indicate some prompts/ideas for what youโd like me to write. Please wait for me to respond; do NOT assume that Iโve accepted the trade request just because youโve messaged me.
thank you all for being so kind about the ruggie piece i posted :') i really didn't anticipate all the love and praise but it makes me hapoy to know you all saw the vision too!!
i was a bit worried people would be upset about the perception of ruggie as a "gold digger", and in that piece i tried to explain where i ultimately believe those thoughts would come from. i think anyone that's been in a shaky financial situation would understand the thought process of yearning for stability, comfortable wealth, etc., regardless of what your actual preferences for attraction are. so i think it's very in character for him to be practical in that sense. and i'm glad everyone else seems to agree <3
also! we're approaching 100 followers and i'm!! so grateful. thank you for following my silly little twst blog. in the coming weeks, i have more planned-- longer fics (noteably a summer camp collab fic with two other wonderful creators and that mer"may" fic i talked about awhile back), more entries in the unofficial "lazy makeouts" series, and more drabbles and aus exploring these characters and universe. thank you for tagging along for the ride, and i hope there's a lot more for you to enjoy here!!
ruggie bucchi remembers receiving this advice well. back when the news of his acceptance into night raven college felt like a dream, when the congratulations and well wishes from his neighbors back home clung to him like the subtle glow of streetlights at night. those days felt... fragile. breakable. there was a subtle tension in the air as he pondered whether the haughty halls of the academy would change him into someone he didn't recognize. he knew hunger pangs and cool nights on the savannah, not whatever bullshit academia had in store.
some of the folks his age-- deeper into their twenties, a bridge he had just begun to cross, with more life experience and cynicism under their belts-- had made jokes about him getting hitched to someone with enough money to give him a good life. money. status. no worries about where your next meal is coming from or if treating a broken leg can leave you homeless. hey ruggie. make sure you pick real good, okay? maybe if your in-laws are rich enough, you can get us all out of here!
ruggie was never one to have romantic fantasies. his ideal partner had a fat wallet and a retirement fund, a formless blob devoid of anything other than the sense of security only money can provide. rich kids just didn't get it. the scars of poverty ran deep.
why, then, did he not follow that advice given to him all that time ago?
his feet carried him across the icy steps of ramshackle, dry knuckles shoved into a threadbare coat, letting the puff of warm air from his tired sigh keep his nose from freezing over. he let himself into ramshackle dorm with a customary knock. the warm crackle of the fireplace greeted him, chasing away the clod draft he'd brought in as he left the entryway.
"i got some extra thaumarks from leona today." he announced upon spotting you in the common room.
"and i got my paycheck from the mostro lounge!"
your smile was infectious. an involuntary shyeheehee left his lips as you scrambled up to your feet, throwing your arms around him in greeting as he teased you for your eagerness.
getting paid was the excuse you had for making dinner together biweekly. when the strain of bills felt less heavy and spirits were lifted, you'd venture out to sam's shop and pick up something to make together. it was a night of luxury, of indulgence, the two of you feeling spoiled to have a meal your classmates would more than likely scoff at.
you were not the rich suitor of ruggie's dreams. magicless and lost in a new world, you'd managed to scrape by doing odd jobs and living in the rickety shack known as ramshackle dorm, all without complaint. he saw himself in you. scrappy. clever. there was an optimism in you that enticed ruggie to stay, even if it meant scraping by for the foreseeable future. "date for money, not love" was a proverb lost to the wind the moment you held a spoon up to his lips and urged him to try whatever you'd been mixing in that pot across the kitchen.
... well, not all advice is good advice. ruggie would rather spend the rest of his life shoving thaumarks into mason jars with you than in some spoiled rich person's mansion, anyways.
a/n: ruggie bucchi, contender for Most Boyfriend twst character of all time
"... i should have realized it was going to rain. that's my fault. i apologize."
jack howl is stiff and unmoving next to you as he speaks. his eyes are stuck staring straight ahead at the bookstore across from the bus stop where you both stand. fat droplets hit the pavement in a cacophonous melody that both remind him of his failure and keep his mind from going astray.
what was supposed to be a peaceful day on the town had been ruined by the sudden burst of rain, leaving the two of you to abandon the park where you'd been cloud gazing over convenience store snacks and race to the nearest shelter. you had both decided to call it a day when the skies darkened to a heavy gray-- the storm that had crept up on the two of you had decided to stick around for awhile yet. now you're both stuck under a flimsy umbrella you bought to wait for the next bus passing through. what a disappointing end to a pleasant day.
but jack is determined to keep his eyes forward. he must.
because if he looks to his side, he'll see you. you, a hair's breadth away, sharing the umbrella he's holding between you. he'll spot your slicked back hair still dripping from the mad dash you both made through the downpour towards the storefront that gave you respite. and worst of all, jack will see you in the jacket he wore to this outing. it slouches on your shoulders and hangs loosely over your hands in a way that he finds so incredibly cute that it makes his chest burn. who knew you could be so adorable in his clothes?
but fate is not on his side today. in that moment, you lift your gaze to see jack staring down at you. and you smile. damn those eyes of yours, somehow bright enough to illuminate overcast skies with a simple glance in his direction. and that smile. your smile! it renders him speechless in his own thoughts, forces to look off with an expression caught between a grimace and a scowl to hide how delighted he is.
but alas. he did not account for his tail, how it spills his deepest secrets. the dampened fur weighing down the appendage is no match for the way you make his heart flutter. and thus his tail begins to wag. it draws your eye immediately, and you laugh-- damn, that's cute too-- and it only makes his tail respond more vigorously.
rain trickles down the edge of the street into the drain. leaves buckle and drip under the weigh of water droplets weighing them down. the sky may be gray and the weather dreary, but the budding romance between two friends at the bus stop is the flower blooming after the downpour.
lazy makeouts with leona. orange light glimmers through the large windows in his luxurious dorm as the sun embraces the horizon, the heat of savanaclaw's arid days simmering into a comfortable warmth. you're stirring again after a several hour nap by his side, but the beastman seems content to continue his snoozing. leona's ears twitch ever so slightly as you shift closer into his chest. he's awake. you begin to rise from his bed, but a quiet grumble and the irritated flick of his tail onto your leg stop you in your tracks. you glance back. an emerald eye peaks from behind his scarred lid in warning. you mumble something soft and amused about needing to go back to your dorm, but he rolls his eyes and catches your wrist to yank you back down to the bed. a protest dies in your throat as he nips at the meat of your palm with sharp fangs. then he's tucking you back into his chest as his eyes shut once more-- you assume you're a glorified body pillow for his extended evening nap.
but that's not quite it.
those same fangs graze your squishy cheek, and he bites softly at the skin. you whine and start to push off of him. an amused chuckle rattles his chest. you don't get very far before his tongue licks your cheek in apology. it's hot, textured with slight bumps that make you shiver, as he laves it lazily over your skin again. it's oddly vulnerable. leona's breath is hot as he lingers over the spot he just teased, before his lips just barely press against your cheek. his thumb finds your chin to shift you closer, until your lips are positioned under his and he finally graces you with a proper kiss. it's much softer than the ones you usually get from him. warm and gentle and welcoming-- very unlike the lion that corners you in hidden corners of night raven and delights in making you squirm under his haughty gaze and rough kisses. leona's other hand finds your lower back and eases you closer, closer, until you're enveloped in the warmth of a man who seems a bit softer than before. a content hum vibrates between you. you're not quite sure if it's yours or his anymore.
concept: an orpheus/euridice retelling with lilia.
maybe it's a tale with general vanrouge as orpheus. you're his fae lover killed in the war. amongst the many heart-wrenching losses, there's one he never expected-- you, an innocent bystander, one who he tried to hide away from the horrors of war and yet lost all the same. he... he can't do this without you. there's too much responsibility on his shoulders. he can't mourn the loss of his loved ones without you. he can't raise this orphaned child, the only heir to the throne and the last hope of briar valley, without you.
somehow, the opportunity arises to save you. his devotion has driven him to a point of madness. this is what earns him an opportunity to rescue you from the afterlife. there's simply one rule lilia must follow: he may not, under any circumstances, turn around to look at you.
there's many interpretations of this myth. in some, orpheus fears he's been tricked by hades and grows doubtful of whether his beloved is really behind him-- he cannot hear her breathing, nor her footsteps, and in a fit of desperation, he turns around. others depict it as crueler twist of fate. upon reaching the surface, he turns to embrace his lover, only to find she's a few steps away from the threshold and thus never makes it to the land of the living once more. one interpretation has orpheus hear eurydice trip behind him and, on instinct, he turns around to soothe her woes and finds he's unintentionally failed the one task meant to save her.
general lilia's walk through the underworld is no exception. the man has grown desperate in your absence. the circumstances of the war seem to have toughened him into a strong, stoic soldier, but that has never been the reality. his soul yearns for respite. will there be a briar valley left standing after the war is said and done? will he even be alive to see it? the loss of his lover ruined him further. lilia's a wounded animal backed into a corner, baring his teeth with a feral glint in his eye. he's not well enough to handle this. he needs you back, alive, with him, to help him rebuild. himself. briar valley. please.
the sound of silence. the shuffle of a fallen body. the break of dawn illuminating the glimmer of hope in his eyes.
in the end it's all the same-- lilia turns around. you never make it back to the land of the living. the tale plays out again in the most cruel of ways. but does it sting you to know your fate has been, in both life and death, to be loved to the point of tragedy?
hello! i'm joining other lovely fanfic writers with @ficsforgaza to help raise money for the folks in need in palestine! i wanted to show my support in the best way i can, and this to me is a wonderful effort to bring the community together to do some good.
to participate, make a donation to a vetted fundraiser found on @ficsforgaza's page (aka, don't send me any money!) and send me a screenshot (with your personal information removed, please!) along with what you'd like to request to my ask box. please do not "double dip" aka use the same donation for several writers-- this is a fundraiser, after all! here is what a request looks like:
hello! can i sponsor your mermay fic? i donated $5 to gaza, here is the screenshot! thank you!
[insert screenshot]
my pricing will be as follows:
โ sponsor-a-WIP: $1/100 words
โ drabbles: $2-3/100 words (elaborated below)
โ no money to contribute, but you want to support the cause? that's okay. sign a vetted petition from the @ficsforgaza page and send proof, and i'll add a sentence to a WIP of your choosing.
if you have any questions, feel free to take a look here on @ficsforgaza's page or reach out to me. be patient, i will work on these fics at a good pace for me. thank you so much for helping me raise money for a good cause :D
before night raven college, each student had their own lives and experiences in high school. what did those years look like? how did they affect each student at the arcane academy now?
headcanon paragraphs for each student. college!au. estimated length = unknown. characters completed: none. wc: 0. current sponsors: none.
โ mermay: azul, jade, & floyd
you're a researcher and rehabilitation expert at an injured merfolk sanctuary near the coast in a small city. one day upon arriving to work, you're greeted with news of a new arrival. he's a bit... odd, it seems, but you're determined to coax him from the depths of his tank and help him recover from the injuries that landed him here in the first place.
small fics for each character. x reader. nonhuman!au (aka no school, no transformation potions). estimated length = unknown. characters completed: none. wc: 449. current sponsors: two! sponsored word count: 449/1000.
โ summer camp collab
a super secret collab with two other amazing writers! support this fic if you want to sponsor a fun project i'm keeping under wraps for now...
fics for each character (limited cast). college!au. estimated length = unknown. characters completed: none. wc: 0. current sponsors: none.
โ escape room hcs
in a convoluted set of circumstances, the members of night raven college are paired up together in completely random groups for an escape room bonding exercise. how does this go? who thrives, and who flounders? which groups make it out alive?
character groups made up of main cast of 24 (22 main students + yuu and grim). six groups of four chosen at complete random by a spinner wheel. college!au. estimated length = unknown. groups completed: none. wc: 0. current sponsors: none.
โ tattoo/piercer!au
you're looking to start your apprenticeship in tattooing and piercing at a small shop on sage island. there, you study under an employee at the shop meant to take you under his wing. who is he? does your apprenticeship land you your dream job (and relationship), or is it a disaster from the moment you lock eyes?
fic, x reader. limited characters. post-college!au, tattoo/piercer!au. estimated length = unknown. characters completed: none. wc: 0. current sponsors: none.
โ yandere!fem!vil x reader
vil never expected you'd ever break up. the split was blinding, leaving her in a stupor as she stumbled through coveted on-screen roles and modeling gigs for the most prestigious publications in twisted wonderland. in her mind, you're still hers. it's only when she finds out that you've found another lover that her world-- and mind-- officially crumbles. it's time she takes matters into her own hands.
fic, x reader. trigger warnings: murder, stalking, general yandere behavior. post-nrc!au. estimated length = unknown. characters completed: none. wc: 0. current sponsors: none.
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i'll be accepting drabble requests for the main cast. i write in a collge!au unless otherwise stated, elaborated further on my page here. drabbles are estimated to be ~500 words. they can be sfw/nsfw, tropes, fluff, etc. please specify what you'd like to see in this drabble, whether you only have a character in mind or a very specific scenario! (note: anon MUST be off for you to request nsfw, and you must be 18+).
since requests require a bit more work, i'll be pricing them at $2 per 100 words for sfw drabbles and $3 per 100 words for nsfw drabbles.
do you want to support gaza and request fics for obey me! or obey me! nightbringer? check out my other blog here
yeah no i'm perfectly normal about the new rook hunt card art that came out! i'm totally not insane with desire! (me when i lie)
spoilers under the cut
genuinely... i'm going insane. his arms. the pose. the hair. his ARMS. oh my god. i can't do this. we have to suffer through that dumbass bob when THIS is what he used to look like??? vil count your days
mdni. consensual sexual images discussed. college au.
cater diamond is the type to never shut about about the fact that he was lucky enough to fuck you. he won't act pathetic about it in public-- in fact, he's sly and haughty, brazenly slipping in details about that night around his peers and underclassmen, always dancing on the line between too much and not enough detail.
"did you know the prefect has such cute bedhead in the morning?" "oh, listen to how loud they are when they're angry! i know it's not the only time they're that vocal, though~" "the prefect's bed is quite comfortable, especially while they're in it cuddled up against you... how do i know? well, cay-cay spends a lot of time with them, you know."
most of his classmates have started to call his bluff. there's no way he's that close with you. out of all the people you're close with on campus, you'd let cater of all people into your bed?
it comes as a surprise, then, when cater's showing something to ace and deuce on his phone, that he slips up and shows them his home screen while switching between apps.
the background of the image is dark, drawing all focus to the two bodies on screen. cater's over your shoulder, lips on your ear as he whispers honeyed filth to you in the dead of night. ginger strands hang loosely from his usual hairstyle. sweat beads visibly at his hairline. his body is bare and blurry, hinting at movement, as he has you pinned on your stomach and presses into you from behind in a classic prone bone. your shoulder and enough of your face are in the image-- just enough to give your peers a look at the lust-drunk grin on your fucked-out face. it's hot, messy, and a bit blurry. nothing explicit is shown but, well, the image is all too clear in suggesting what must be happening.
maybe it's a simple slip up on his part. maybe it's just enough to get the rumors doubting cater's special relationship with you to stop as your fellow freshman spread the word.
maybe you're just as naughty as him, seeing as your response to the rumors is to send him a simple text.
"i want matching home screens. my room tonight? we'll get the perfect shot this time."
