I need more of that wizzy story- 🥹...PLEASE FINISH IT.
Wizzy the Wizard x Reader
KoM
Part 1
Smut
Warnings: humping, whining, overstimulation, blow job, swallowing his nut
Word Count: 881
A/N: Enjoy
With his lips firmly pressed against yours, his long tongue firmly explored your mouth, his puppet hands slightly trembling as he held onto your hips and shuddered when he felt your core press against his throbbing bulge, his thighs twitching as he couldn't help but thrust his hips to meet your core, his eyes watering slightly. He felt hot, he felt bothered, and he felt needy. He felt very needy for you. His majesty. A part of him feels off, like he knows its wrong for his majesty and a mere wizard to do intimate things like this. Well, to begin with, it was forbidden from the start. After all, he made the mistake of falling for you, getting jealous when he sees you speaking to another person. The list just goes on. Eventually, he pulled away from the kiss with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting you both as he looked up at you with a frown. "Your Majesty...Is this really alright?" he questioned. He is doubting this, yet his cock is throbbing and aching to be buried inside you, to feel your gummy walls squeezing around his length as he watches you bounce on his cock. Seeing his doubtful expression, you reached for him and gently cupped his face on your hands, your thumb brushing over his puppet skin, yet it felt oddly like a human, and smiling softly.
"Wizzy, I want this more than anything. I am not just your majesty."
He froze.
"I am yours. Like you are mine. At this very moment, we are lovers who want the same thing. Eachother."
Somehow, that was enough to convince him. With a shuddering sigh, he cupped your face as well and firmly pressed his lips against yours, his tongue swooping over your bottom lip, seeking for an entrance. Parting your lips, he eagerly slid his tongue inside you and started lapping up your tongue with his, his moans being muffled by your lips while he grinded his pulsing bulge against your damp core. "I...I love you so much, I need you..." He panted against your lips, and he watched with dazed, hooded eyes as you climbed off his lap and grabbed the edge of his wizard robe. With a teasing smile, you flipped it over, and watched with wide eyes as an impressive size sprung out and wobbled. His cock was thin, but long, his tip leaking with pre-nut as it twitched from the cold air in his chambers. Without wasting another second, you dropped down on your knees, and licked a long strap along his base, the feeling of his entire body shuddering before you making you feel a little powerful. Once you got an actual taste of his dick, you blew softly at his tip, and he watched with wide eyes as you started engulfing his cock into your mouth, his length slowly starting to disappear inch by inch, until you slightly shook your head, and felt his cock resting in your throat, his balls resting against your chin while your hands were placed on his thighs to keep his legs apart.
Wizzy couldn't help but moan, his puppet hand instantly covering his mouth as he watched with watery eyes as you bobbed your head at the right speed, your tongue creating this wet, delicious friction that made him want to pass out on the spot. He couldn't help but thrust his hips to your mouth, and whimper loudly as you started stroking his cock and slurping all over him, your saliva mixing with his pre-cum that made it easier to coat his dick around and give you an easier time bobbing your head. Wizzy just couldn't help himself. He reached down to where you were, and held onto your strands of hair, his fingers slightly digging into your scalp as he started thrusting into your mouth eagerly, his mouth parted to let out eager moans and whimpers. Your mouth felt so warm, so good that it practically made him see stars. Then he felt a strange knot forming in his stomach, and his balls tightening to the point that he felt like bursting. "W-Wait, hold on-- I'm gonna--" but he was cut off when he felt you double your efforts more than before. That made him instantly tense up and explode inside your mouth, his back arching while his lips parted into a silent scream. The sudden explosion of his cum flooding your throat and forcing you swallow everything made you slightly choke, but you didn't pull away immediately. Instead, you slowed down your movements and started breathing through your nose. Eventually, you finally pulled away from his softening cock, your eyes half lidded and dazed as you watched it slowly retract and go back into that hole inside his puppet body.
"S-Sorry...I couldn't hold it in." He panted while turning away to hide his blush that was creeping up to his face. Wiping at your lips, you smiled and crawled over to him as you reached over and wrapped your arms around his neck. "It's alright. It tasted pretty good." You said, catching the poor wizard off guard. With a sigh, he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into your neck.
"...does that mean we are okay?"
"Yes, we are. So stop ignoring me."
"Sorry..."
--
A/N: did this late at night and was half asleep forgive the misspells and other errors
Storm wizards are restless in their sleep. They somehow manage to twist and roll across (and sometimes off) the bed, becoming either blanketless or a quilt burrito. They snuffle and mumble in their sleep, but they’re heavy sleepers. That is, unless a storm breaks. They’ll wake with the thunder, eyes opening at the flash of lightning, and wander to the nearest window, open it, breathing calmly. They’ll let some droplets fall onto their outstretched hand, half asleep and entranced by their magic in nature. They can feel every movement, the power contained in every part from the clouds to the rain to the lightning. It’s a comfort, and they sleep much more peacefully on those nights.
Ice wizards tend to be blanket hogs, even in the middle of summer. They’ll burrow into the blankets until the air grows stale and they have to breathe freely of the blankets again, regretfully. They don’t dream much, but sometimes they do and it leads to sleepless nights full of study instead. Most times they sleep undisturbed, a static void of rest until a chill overtakes them, frost outside growing in the night as winter grows near. Then they wake slowly, comforted like many humans feel in a light breeze during summer. They’ll wake, and putter outside, watching and helping the way of things as plants grow fuzzy white coats of frost, puddles freeze, and the world gets a little more quiet, making it even easier for them to sleep that night.
Fire wizards are the type to sleep with tons of stuffed animals and pillows, but just a single blanket. They have confusing, scary dreams often, but that will happen when you control such an unruly and emotional magic. Sometimes it will get really bad and they’ll wake up feverish and terrified of their own hands, and they wake somewhere else after a bout of sleep walking. Once in a while, in the dog days of summer, when many stay awake waiting for the night to bring a coolness that will never come, the cicadas sing. They go outside, restless as they finally stop to watch the fireflies rise and begin to dance, watching the world moving around them in full summer, and staying still for once, letting other things take action and simply learning. Warm breezes curl like intoxicating smoke in the air, and the fire wizard rests that night with dreams of warmth and light, not ravaging flames.
Death wizards sleep almost too much. They find solace in getting lost in a different world, in being detached from the grief and pain of being the opposite of life. Of course, there is no solitude even in dreams, when the dead come to visit to give messages and quests, or simply to be evil and inflict nightmares on the wizard. They tend to be utilitarian in blankets and pillows, but always have one thing, a small stuffed toy or pillow, with sentimental value. They are hard to wake, and rarely do unless disturbed quite a bit, but when someone dies near them, it’s a sudden transition with no in between of sleep and wakefulness, because they simply exist in this moment as awake, and fully aware of a spirit losing ties to their body. If they don’t recognize it, and feel that another necromancer has taken care of the soul, they simply pace until exhausted again and sleep again. If they do recognize it, they won’t be sleeping soon at all.
Myth wizards sleep fitfully. They get snippets of visions, from the mundane to the Spiral saving kind. They don’t get the rest they need, busy half dozing until they See something and have to record it, fearful because what if this is the one that if they forget people die, what if this small vision determines the universe. But they continue to sleep, in a messy pile of quilts, practically a nest of soft things. Once in a while, they’ll get a full vision through their medium as they try to sleep, and they write it down, and they feel whole and real again after the sleep deprived hallucinations and the delirium. They pass out then, dropping dead into a sleep that may last for days, but will leave them healed afterwards.
Life wizards sleep either not at all or just enough. It’s when they have a patient that causes them enough worry to not sleep. They just don’t want a condition to worsen or a person to die simply because they needed something as paltry as sleep. They dream peacefully, and sleep as such, unless worry clouds them. Some nights, their magic calls on them and they wake, the world fuzzy and slow around them as they begin to go outside, feeling winter coming to its end. They rise sprouts from the ground, half asleep and smiling as they do quiet, good work that will make the world a little kinder, a little more alive. Hours later they will fall into bed exhausted but happy.
Balance wizards sleep in measured amounts. They meditate before and after sleeping, and have that quiet, static void of dreamlessness. They’re talkative sleepers, mumbling nonsense that their friends may interpret for entertainment at times. They sometimes get glimpses of something strange, otherworldly even to them, a seasoned world traveler. They see flashes of gold, darkness, warmth, vindictive spite, they see small parts of how the Spiral is out of balance, and get hints of how to fix it. Sometimes they wake, if they know they can fix it and feel the call to do so. Sometimes they don’t, and sleep contently, knowing that the Spiral works in strange ways, but not every call to fight is theirs to follow.
Hello! I've read your work and I have to say it's really beautiful✨ keep it up! I want to also ask if you can write a fanfic about Wizzy x MC that is fluff and a bit smut. Probably about him making a potion with some questionable enchantment and giving it to MC. Thank you and wishing you a lovely day!💝
Wizzy the Wizard x Reader
KoM
Fluff and a bit of smut
Warnings: Passionate sex, love confession, thigh fucking, overstimulation, making out
Word Count: 2k
A/N: im not used to writing soft horny characters
Wizzy liked hanging out with you. Like is probably an understatement, he loved hanging out with you. Whenever you were finished with your “royalty” duties, he waited patiently in his chambers for you so he can tell you about his latest experiment that he managed to perfect to the max. So when he saw you outside his room, he grinned and urged you inside while he talked about his latest experiment, his voice booming with excitement. He was so distracted from talking to you that he didn’t even realize he knocked something into his mixing pot, changing the color to a rather deep pink color that smelled a little funny. He was making a potion where it’s supposed to make you feel warm. Basically something to help when you are cold and can’t find any warmth. But with a simple nudge of his arm, he knocked over something vital, and it fell right in. He was looking at you the whole time, so he didn’t even noticed it while he continued mixing and talking about his day with you.
Eventually, he finished mixing and grabbed a generous amount of the potion. When he saw the colors, he frowned confusingly and turned the cup around while he tried to figure out why it was in that color specifically. He was sure it was supposed to be another color. Or maybe he’s over thinking it and that it’s supposed to look like that. So he just looked at you and handed you the cup with a proud smile, his body almost shaking from the excitement. His majesty praising him for making such a delicate experiment. Ah, what a dream come true! He watched with careful eyes as you placed the rim of the cup on your lips, and tilted it to drop the liquid inside your mouth. Instantly, you noticed a rather sweet, but tangy taste that made you clear your throat and stare at the cup suspiciously. Noticing your confused reaction, he smiled nervously and walked over to you to gently place his hands on top of yours, his fingers slightly squeezing. "It’s alright, it’s supposed to taste a little weird. You don’t have to drink it all, I just wanted to see if it was consumable." He reassured you, his voice gentle and caring, which made your suspicion die down. You didn’t want to disappoint him, or waste some of the potion, so you took another long drink until there was nothing but a couple of droplets inside. By the time you finished, your lips were pressed together, and your tongue felt rather weird. Heavy was the best way to describe it. Like you couldn’t mouth out what you are feeling, and that makes you a little worried.
And almost immediately, you felt your entire body shudder, and a sudden warmth started to develop around your entire body. Starting from your toes, to your head. You were cold earlier, so it felt pretty good. But the warm feeling suddenly grew hot, and before you knew it, you furrowed your eyebrows and reached down to unbutton your uniform, revealing a bit of your cleavage, and your sweaty skin that was glowing under the dim light. Wizzy couldn’t help but worry. It was supposed to warm you up, not cook you alive. With a nervous frown, he walked over to you and gently took the cup from your hands. "I’m so sorry, your majesty. I didn’t think it would make you that hot. Let me—"
He was caught off guard instantly when you randomly grabbed him by the wrist, and tugged him down to your level, your gaze, which looked strong and level headed before, now looked hazy and dazed, with your pupil completely blown out, and your lips parted slightly like you wanted to say something, but couldn’t. "Your majesty…?" He muttered, waiting for your response. After a while, you just stared at him. He was about to pull his hand away when he finally saw your lips move, his heart jumping in the process. "You…really are the greatest, Wizzy. It’s no wonder that I ended up falling for you."
He froze. Completely froze on the spot. Out of all the things that you could have possibly said, that was your initial thought? Wait, did you actually mean that? He felt as your arms, that were so glued to your side, was now reaching up and starting to slither around his neck, instantly pulling him down to where he lost his balance and landed on top of you completely, his eyes widened while his lips trembled. It wasn’t because he was scared, it was because he wasn’t used to this. He never thought that his sweet majesty, the ruler of their kingdom, could react so boldly with him. He wants to die in a good way. When he settled between your legs, he couldn’t help but avoid your gaze to prevent himself from blushing like a madman. But he couldn’t help but steal a few glances your way, and blush whenever he sees you still looking. "P-Please do not joke like that, your majesty. My heart simply can’t handle it…" he whispered softly. But he didn’t hear your signature laugh, that taunting voice you do when you pull pranks like these. Instead, he just felt your hands cup his face, and force him to turn to look at you. Your expression was filled with lust and desire, but your eyes had changed. They had completely softened, showing him that vulnerability that makes you squirm. "Oh, Wizzy. Believe me when I say that you are everything to me. I will never lie to you."
He froze. And he watched as you pulled him down slowly, and close enough to where your lips were a breath away. It was both alluring and taunting, and it made Wizzy shudder above you. "W-We mustn’t. You are under the influence of…whatever I made. I do not want to take advantage of you." He frowned. But was only meant with a small, but cute peck on his lips, making him let out an involuntary squeak. "Don’t worry. This is the most sober I’ve ever been. Like this potion awakened something that I kept buried. I am fully aware of my actions."
He looked into your expression more closely, and furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. Your pupils were blown out, but it seems like it was just from the lust. Your skin feels damp and warm, and your core seems to be twitching and pulsing against his bulge, making him whimper and look at you closely again. Even when you talked, you sounded completely normal. You weren’t under anything. It’s like the potion he gave you finally made it where it was possible for you to reveal your feelings, and has now led to this very moment. Seeing his worried expression falter, you used this opportunity to hold his face, and press your lips softly against his.
Wizzy froze once more, and he felt something warm across his body. But instead of pushing you away, he holds your cheek and returns the kiss with some eagerness, his eyes closing instantly while his long hair falls over his shoulder and creating this curtain around you. The kiss almost immediately turned from sweet to heated, as he brushed his tongue over your bottom lip, seeking for entrance. Once you parted them, he wasted no time in sliding his tongue inside and tangling it around yours, making you let out a soft moan at the contact.
His body was now pressed against you gently, while his hips settled between your legs as his tongue eagerly explored your mouth, his wizard hat sliding off his head. But he didn’t notice. He was starting to get really addicted to your taste, and he didn’t want to just stop at that.
You felt his hands slide down to your hips, all the way to your thighs, and gently squeezed them. Squishy, soft, and big. That made him involuntarily buck his hips, causing you both to gasp at the same time. Then an idea struck him, making him blush and pull away from the kiss with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. "Your majesty…May I try something?" He whispered against your lips, his eyes wandering everywhere other than your expression. But then he felt the soft movement of your head, giving him the green light he needed. With his lips pressed together, he pulled his body away from yours, taking his warmth away and causing you to shiver. You watched with hazy eyes as he lifts up his robe, and there springs out his throbbing, dripping cock, his tip seemingly shaking from both the cold air and the overwhelming pleasure. Once that was out, he reached over and gently tugged on your pants. But he didn’t move. If anything, he seems to be waiting for something. Waiting for your permission. You reached down and popped off the buttons from your pants, and tugged them down for him like he wanted, showing off your bare legs to his gaze.
He couldn’t help but take in a shaky inhale as he stared at your thighs. Maybe this is a crazy idea, but it doesn’t hurt to try it. With a blush coating his cheeks, he held your thighs together and slowly inserted his dick between your two meaty thighs, the soft friction of it making him whimper and hold onto your knees. With a heavy breath, he pulled his hips back to where his tip was nestled between your thighs, and then thrusted forward, his pre-cum already starting to coat your skin, making the friction more wet and easy to glide through. But god, did this feel amazing. It felt like he was actually doing it inside, like he was fucking into your wet pussy. Feeling a sudden burst of confidence, he started practically fucking into your thighs, his balls slapping against your skin as he panted above you like a dog. "O-Oh— oh shit…" he moaned, his veiny cock gliding through your thighs easily and messily, his tip continuing to nudge against your stomach while he kept twitching. It felt so fucking good. Your wet, squishy thighs making a perfect fleshlight for his throbbing cock. And man, is it making him drool above you. His pre-cum just kept leaking out more and more and dripping onto your panties, and it only made you squirm and quietly whimper at the scene above you. It was pretty hot, and it was making your pussy throb behind your panties. You reached up, and nudged at his sleeve as you begged with your eyes that you wanted more. That you needed more. And he understood you right away.
Immediately, he practically ripped off your panties and started to settle himself between your legs, his tip gently grinding against your wet slit, causing you to moan and buck your hips against his tip. "Wizzy…!" You softly called out, a slight whine hinted at your tone.
"I-I hear you…I hear you, your majesty."
With a deep breath, he started sliding his cock inside, his pulsing base grazing your inner walls and adding this delicious friction that makes him instantly moan and buck his hips. You locked your legs around his waist, and felt as he pulled his hips back, and slam right back into you with a sudden urgency, his balls eagerly slapping against your ass he started fucking into you with a sudden passion, his thrusts fast and eager that just made you moan louder and arch your back against his chest, letting him hit that sweet spot that made you see stars. While holding onto you tightly, he buried his face into your neck, and with a soft moan, he whispered his confession.
"I love you. Not because you are our new ruler, but because you are you."
Somehow, the way he said it made your heart flutter in your chest, and your walls squeezing around his cock tightly, making the poor male moan into your ear. He sounded so sincere, so lovesick that it made you want to cry. To reply to his confession, you gently grasped his face, and kissed him firmly on the lips, your passionate lovemaking feeling more special and everlasting. Cause you knew you made the right choice in choosing the right puppet.
Getting hit by a critical spell feels a bit like the world is ending all around you.
Dread is infused in your body by the bright flash of light and the lack of that swirling, translucent shield. It’s enough to make even a cowardly (or wise) wizard flee.
The mounting, deep-seated fear is all consuming. You are paralyzed. A shaking rabbit staring into the snake’s maw.
Your allies fear for you, the healer already staring at her cards with a stiff fixation, the others worrying, one of them even wringing their hands.
Your heart pounds, a crescendo of adrenaline slamming into you, burning through your mouth and nose and throat and lungs like salt water, your blood curdling alongside it as your stomach upsets, twisting almost painfully with your nervousness
You take a faltering step back, bound by the magic of the battle as your doom stares you down, multiplied in its critical mass.
“No-” You choke out, gasping.
The last you hear is your own panicked mumbling, and the distraught screams of your friends.
Wrote another second person fic. If you can understand the context for this then you’re already doing better than I am. Warnings for violent, vague description and also mentions of like? weird monsters I guess?
Oh what the hell did I just do- You think frettingly, only to be distracted by a woman’s scream.
You are buffeted by a crowd of wizards stampeding past you, jumping from the amphitheater cut inside Bartleby’s trunk. You try to move, to run and join the herd, because this can only end badly, but magic binds your feet, almost aching when under the pressure of a power you can’t name.
Bright magic flashes and sparks off of your wand, the magical oak twig heating up under your clenched fingers, like you’re holding a live wire, your muscles so tense you can’t let go.
The concerned mumbling of Bartleby is cut off as well, his sudden silence no more reassuring than anything else in this situation. A large rumbling resounds inside the hollowed trunk, and you find yourself alone now, save for the unconscious bodies of a few unlucky wizards caught in the crowd. The rumbling becomes louder and louder, shaking you. You feel it in your chest and when it’s over you have to gasp a bit to catch your breath. A sharp creaking sound fills the area, the ground under your immobile feet rumbling again.
All you can do is curse, snarling. You don’t know where this fearful indignation came from, but it slams through you. You catch yourself already unbuckling your card deck from your hip, fingers deftly choosing your gilded cards, monstrous creatures grinning back at you from the lifelike rendering on the card.
Everyone fled and they didn’t really know why, but you’re beginning to learn now as strange magics fill the air. It makes itself known now, no longer hiding itself now that it is awake and enraged.
There are some things you simply do not do. No one speaks of them, but it is well accepted that you do not push back against the laws that bind your magic. But you just couldn’t help yourself, and you rebelled.
What you did was unacceptable, and you face your retribution now.
The creaking rises in pitch, until you wince as splintering echoes throughout Wizard City. The ground shakes much more now, and you desperately wish for the ability to move now, to run away no matter how useless it would be. Terror claws at you, digging into your spine with threatening claws as you can’t breathe, everything becoming darker and colder.
It broke free of it’s bonds, where it built its nest and was simply waiting. It truly roars now, and your brain feels like it’s melting from the force of the sound. The rings of Bartleby begin to distort in the floor until an incomprehensible monster begins to struggle out, snapping and snarling with its maw.
Distantly, as you begin to pass out, you realize that it was waiting for you.
Guess who finally edited and formatted their fic for @spiralstudyhall‘s event!!!!! Decided to go with Mari, and the fact that she plays the violin, then added some magic in for flavor.
Content warnings, not many, just implied injury I guess.
Mari wasn’t the type to get nervous easily. She was made of tougher stuff than that, she had not cowered when confronted with saving her world, other worlds, and the entire Spiral. She had stared down a master of necromancy and dared to battle him, and didn’t falter when she was face to face with a Dragon Titan.
So the fact that she was nervous now was irritating at best, even though she knew it wasn’t unreasonable.
She sighed, turning again in the twisting, box-filled hallways backstage. The Cirque Du Wisp was new, something that people were excited about, especially the talent show. Quests, assignments, and even parties were delayed simply because of something interesting and new, a rare occurence on a magical floating world like Wizard City.
And while Mari would always prefer the vast and vibrant landscape of Mooshu, or even her girlfriend’s home world of Krokotopia, Wizard City had a certain charm to it. While Mooshu had many, many festivals and different events, she had never had the chance to compete in a talent show.
Mari cracked her knuckles, listening to each pop and trying to calm her nerves as she found where the odd charmed mannequins had guided her to, where she was supposed to sit calmly and wait until her name was announced as the strange ringmaster told her at auditions.
Their methods were strange, but terribly clever. Separate rips in magic and space allowed for dozens of rooms so the contestants wouldn’t interact before the show, making sure they didn’t know what they were up against and weren’t able to sabotage anyone. Not that Mari would.
Well, she would for certain people, but barring that, she would follow their rules.
With a shaky breath, she sat down on a plastic chair, careful of stray objects pulling at her coattails. While she would normally wear a sari, because they’re more fun and dramatic, she didn’t want to deal with others asking about it, and she’d have a harder time with her new boots.
Combat boots didn’t fit well with traditional indian attire, not when she could trip onstage.
So she bought a dark green, velvety conductor’s jacket in one of the many thrift stores in Wizard City, adjusted it a bit with magic, and she suddenly had a dramatic and showy outfit she could keep for any more events like this.
It felt like the room was deafened to the world outside. The gentle creak of old wood, most likely the floors and crates, was all she could hear. There wasn’t even a clock so Mari just sat there, staring at the instrument case on her lap.
She was tempted to pull it out and play, practice a few scales, maybe even her full routine- but she had no way of knowing when she’d be called up. It would just be her luck to be already in the middle of her song when she had to start it all over again, probably messing it up.
Mari wasn’t the most confident in her abilities. The only thing like this she had done before was at the Spiral Cup, a few years ago now. She hadn’t even won the dueling competition, even though she got to kick a teacher’s ass and also date a cute girl afterwards, which was as good as getting the trophy.
The attention and crowds weren’t something she was used to. She was invisible among the students of Ravenwood, another annoying theurgist who wouldn’t play by the rules. Even after saving the Spiral, she was just another name. Just as she intended. She didn’t do the best with people watching. Allies and friends, that was fine. But in Mooshu she and her family had lived a mostly isolated life in a small farming village, and that had made her the biggest social butterfly.
At least she wasn’t Emrys, who only made friends if they could tolerate him being an asshole for a few months and still not hate him.
Mari’s painted nails began to dig under the soft paper of old stickers on the case. They weren’t hers, and her old friend Lenora didn’t particularly care either, so at this point the old stickers of flowers and bugs were mostly just stress relievers for Mari to fidget with, a majority of them simply white silhouettes from age.
Lenora had given her the case and the instrument inside, insisting it counted toward her duties as a peer mentor. At the time it was mostly charity and pity. Professor Wu had pushed a fourteen year old Mari onto Lenora with no mercy, claiming that Mari needed a guide, especially because she hadn’t gone into music yet at her age, which was something many theurgists did before they even came to Ravenwood.
Feeling lonely, homesick, and out of her depth Mari listened to Lenora with rapt attention, even when the topics wandered from gossip and music to things they both were a bit more interested in, battle strategies and martial arts.
Mari had a lot of free time due to her lack of literally any friends, and Lenora just thought it was fun to let Mari follow her around like a lost puppy. It was like having a sister, something Mari had always wished for after her father adopted her brother.
Lenora was a fantastic big sister, and taught Mari a lot about being a life wizard, and being a musician, and being safe as a young woman questing in the Spiral. She taught her things that Mari’s father hadn’t had the time for, or had just forgotten.
When Mari was nervous about playing new pieces, Lenora had calmed her down, had been kind and patient with her in a way not many people were. Lenora made sure that Mari knew the facts about performing, much of her experience from old lessons and recitals she never wanted to go to.
“You don’t have to be the best, Mari. Just do your best. Know that whatever you did, as long as you didn’t purposefully mess up, it was your best. It might not be your best all the time, it may be an outlier. But knowing you’re doing your best is one of the ways we can let ourselves relax, let ourselves focus on what we’re doing, not what others are.”
With a last shaky breath, Mari let her fingers relax, eyes sliding closed as she relaxed, shoulders aching from how tense they had been. She was a badass. She wore combat boots and had tattoos and dyed hair. She was a badass hero who could play in front of her school and kick ass.
She could do this.
Mari let her eyes lazily open again, now much calmer. The room was still quiet, but another door was present, this one simply a doorway filled with darkness. She had been told it would lead her onto the stage, and would appear a few minutes beforehand to give her a warning. Her heartbeat was faster again as she realized what it meant. She’d be up next.
Sound was slowly filtering into the room, cheering, the dramatic voice of the ringmaster, strains of music as well. The act before her was drawing to a close, and she was almost up.
Standing, Mari brushed her jacket with an absentminded hand, making sure the collar was right and her black bowtie was in place. She hugged the case for a moment, almost as if it were a teddy bear. Adjusting her grip, she held it properly and straightened her spine, shoulders back, chin up, defiantly confident in the face of potential humiliation.
That was only if she messed up though. And she wouldn’t, not when she was doing her best.
“And up next! A young life wizard with her own original piece of music, alllllll the way from Mooshu! It’s Mahamari Jaaade!”
With a deep breath, Mari walked through the doorway, finding the glowing mark of tape that was right in the middle of the stage. The curtains were closed, but she knew the gaudy red and gold fabric would move aside in just a moment.
She kneeled for a moment, placing her case down right beside the mark, pulling out her instrument, fingers tracing reverently across the decadent whorls in the wood. She grabbed the instrument, standing and walking on shaky, bambi-like legs as she stood on her mark.
It was showtime.
The curtains parted to reveal the night sky, brilliant as always, the crowd swathed in darkness. A spotlight on her, only her. It was dead silent, and for a moment Mari wasn’t sure if it was because of her panic, a spell, or adrenaline.
She tucked the violin under her chin, raised the bow slowly. There were murmurs in the crowd, and she ignored them.
Mari began to play. She started slow- always slow, she appreciated the build up- and it was quiet, even though the magical amplification was applied to the stage. She played the notes precisely, as if it were her duty, as if it were simply all she knew. It was about something unattainable, missing a home she never had.
The crowd’s murmurs picked up again at the realization of her skill, but she played on, hearing faint shushing that made her lips quirk slightly. Her gaze was intense as she played though, and didn’t allow anything to distract her.
The song became more playful. And with that, Mari began to move. She wasn’t necessarily dancing, but it was fluid with the tempo, it changed with every note as it should. Gentle green magic began fluttering around her fingers, like hope in the heart of an orphan just adopted, and then the magic began to move, curling alongside the tattooed vines on her arm, then up to her shoulder, resting for a moment in a brief pause in the music, resting in the dip of her collarbone.
Mari found herself grinning slightly, reminiscing on a young Emrys, the excitable children they used to be, the ignition for her spell. The magic leaped off of her shoulder, wobbling midair as a sphere, and fell. It splashed onto the wooden floor of the stage like a teardrop, every little speck that flew outwards becoming birds, the small creatures a translucent, glowing mint green. The pool in the middle remained, just a few feet away from Mari’s boots.
The birds flew around the crowd, dipping and diving so close that the faint screams of some wizards could be heard. Mari’s grin devolved into a smirk as the notes became more jumpy, unsure. More vines of magic grew up both of her arms.
The birds flew back home, to the nest. As they flew above the stage in a flock, they combined into two beings, both falling onto the stage gracefully. One was a sleek leopard, mischievous, low to the ground. The other was almost the same creature, but instead of a vibrant green, it was an almost blue cyan, and fluffier, immediately pouncing on its companion playfully.
The leopards ran together, almost blurring into one creature. They were silent, but their movements were to Mari’s music, to her now happy and adventurous playing. She was still now, no longer restlessly pacing like a wildcat in a cage. The leopards chased and played around the stage, having no companion but each other, beginning to circle tighter and tighter around Mari, who stood on the mark she had started on, next to her case.
When they were almost close enough that Mari could feel the heat of the magic, she knew it was time. With a sharp, startling note, the snow leopard stumbled, falling into the puddle of magic Mari had left in the beginning, disappearing.
The lights went dark, as did most of Mari’s magic, aside from the now almost lime green of the leopard, the one that represented Mari. The creature looked frantically around, pacing and snarling to the now discordant tunes, swiping at nothing with the random jumps and changes in her music.
Quicker and quicker Mari played, her fingers twitching and movements perfectly small, the music hauntingly fast, a track in an old school thriller movie, the chase of the monster and the victim. On and on the leopard searched, until she moved slower and slower, shuddering to a halt, until finally she collapsed.
But still Mari played quickly, trying to convey how terrifying it all was, to become helpless, exhausted, unable to save anyone even as they grew closer and closer to being lost forever. The useless search, the way it ripped at a wizard inside, the millions of tricks they can pull out of their hat but unable to find one that’ll bring him home.
Sometimes they just have to help themselves, as cruel as it is. It’s the only way.
The music was slowing slightly, now more regular, a fast heartbeat thudding. The puddle of magic the snow leopard had been swallowed by appeared again, and Mari could hear the audible gasps as the cyan paw of the creature appeared, and the snow leopard began clawing his way out, a permanent snarl embedded on that ferocious face. His ragged claws left deep furroughs of magic in the floor, glowing and not affecting the stage. He pulled himself out of hell, swiping at anything, and if he could have harmed Mari, she would be dead before she could scream.
The snow leopard began limping away, and Mari’s music finally settled. The tones became lonely again as the search began anew, now the snow leopard looking for the leopard. He was in a daze, limping heavily, leaving a trail of bright magic behind, the blood stains never fading.
Then, he found her, curled up and asleep, as if afraid of waking up alone again. Mari’s playing became quieter and quieter as the snow leopard neared, almost as if in disbelief. He finally just settled, licking the leopard’s cheek once so the fur stuck out funnily, and fell asleep, so they rested side by side, back to back.
With one final note, Mari drew the bow away from the violin, raising it as high in the air as one would a wand after a victorious battle. She held the violin away from her, by the neck of the instrument.
The magic went dark, only glowing now on the tattoo of her right arm. A spotlight lit on her, only her.
And the crowd screamed.
Mari grinned, taking a dramatic bow, her heart pounding as she stood there, a wave of roaring cheers and clapping crashing over her.
charmolypi: (n.) a mixed feeling of happiness while being sad
“(n.) χαρμολύπη
This word is, both etymologically and semantically, a mixture of the words meaning “happiness” and “sadness”. Thus, charmolypi is a mixed feeling of happiness, while being sad…So, if you ever felt the need to describe that mixture of sorrow and joy, here’s the word for you.” From Ellie Karatza’s interesting blog post on a… university website? I’m not sure.
Balance wizards feel out of place, most times. In this universe with an odd mix of Earth’s technology and the advancements of other worlds, the sorcerers almost crave simplicity.
That’s why they do so well when they train in the desert of Krokotopia. It’s a blank canvas, no other schools, no other worries, nothing to cloud their mind as they focus on their studies.
They tend to wander. Sometimes for meditation, sometimes to think, but mostly for procrastination. The balance wizards peruse the shops, relax in the shade of the palm trees of the Oasis, or find their way into the potion game’s pyramid, absentmindedly playing the hours away.
Typically they make their way into the pyramids though. The abandoned sites are prime for finding a quiet spot to think, when one ignored the dangers within. Balance wizards are thoughtful people. They think themselves in circles, into corners, back and forth until they’re exhausted.
This happens a lot when they venture into the pyramids, explore hidden places and look at things that are thousands of years old, yet they rest under their fingertips, nothing but cold and ancient stone.
Whenever they enter the Pyramid of The Sun, right behind the Oasis, they’re wracked with a grief no one should ever have to feel. Just down the hallway is a collapsed wing of the pyramid, crumbled stone of broken bridges blocking the way, the occasional boulder falling into the pit below.
That was history. Kroks were entombed there, families of rulers and warriors. Stories carved into walls, poor manders spent their entire lives building it. Only for it to become inconvenient rocks and dust that people choke on occasionally.
It’s not something they like to dwell on.
They prefer to move further on, into the pyramid’s depths. They trail their fingers across hieroglyphics, speaking in ancient Krokotopian under their breath, attempting to recite the tales and translate them into something coherent in their mind. These were things that were made with nervous hands and aggressive claws. These were stories that they needed the young wizards of the future to know.
Some of them were stories of childhood, of birth and growing up and becoming someone a parent is proud of. Those make the balance wizard smile.
The ones about death, hardship. Those are harder.
The ones about the mander’s enslavement are impossible, and the sorcerer feels guilty as they pass by, their hand falling to the side, tears welling up in their eyes.
