He has no magic but knows a lot about magic glyphs
Yuu Masaki is a 17-year-old with a rich cultural heritage, being half Japanese and half Argentinian, who lives as an immigrant in the United States in the late 2000s. From childhood, she has developed a deep fascination with the world of fantasy, fairy tales, and the Disney universe. However, her greatest desire has always been the most unattainable: to become a witch. Despite her complete lack of supernatural power or innate magical energy, Yuu refused to give up and channeled her obsession into the theoretical research of esotericism and urban witchcraft.
Through old books and internet forums of the time, she discovered a key distinction: while witches are born with their own magic, sorcerers are ordinary humans who learn to channel and manipulate the latent magic of their surroundings. Based on this premise, she dedicated years to studying written sorcery, specializing in the use of magical glyphs—symbols that, when drawn, activate natural elements—and secretly practicing in public libraries in the hope that one day they would work.
Visually, Yuu is the epitome of the urban-alternative fashion of the late 2000s and early 2010s. Her style blends streetwear comfort with a strong, whimsical fantasy aesthetic.
The night before she was to fly to Buenos Aires to visit her family, Yuu stayed up until the early hours of the morning at the public library, practicing glyph strokes in her notebooks. As she hurried out into the street, tired and in a hurry, she was struck by a mysterious dark carriage.
Far from waking up in a hospital, Yuu regained consciousness in a floating coffin in the middle of Night Raven College's opening ceremony. To her surprise, her years of writing practice had finally paid off: the dense magical atmosphere of this new world reacted immediately to her glyphs. The carriage that struck her was no ordinary accident, but the school's black carriage, unconsciously summoned by the success of her latest and most powerful written invocation.
Unlike other humans who would panic upon being transported to another dimension, Yuu's initial reaction was one of absolute wonder. Her fantasy-fantasy mindset led her to process the initial danger as "her childhood dream come true." For her, the eccentricities of Director Crowley or the threats of the monsters are simply part of the job at a real magic academy.
Due to her upbringing across three cultures and her experience as a real-world immigrant, Yuu possesses a unique social resilience. She is extremely accustomed to not fitting into a single mold, deciphering unfamiliar cultural codes, and quickly adapting to new environments. This allows her to navigate the complex dynamics of the various dormitories and their eccentric leaders without losing her composure.
Also, because the accident happened just before her family trip, Yuu arrived at Twisted Wonderland with her suitcase intact. This left her equipped with real-world clothing, wearable technology from that era (like her digital camera for the photography club), and a valuable stash of Western personal care and cosmetic products from the 2000s, which quickly become highly sought-after and valuable items within the school.
Assigned to the Ramshackle dormitory and lacking a magic pen, Yuu adapts by using sheets of paper, chalk, or carving glyphs into surfaces for defense, channeling the island's ambient energy. Academically, she quickly excels in Analytical Magic; unable to rely on instinct or biological mana like the other students, her understanding of the structure, geometry, and logic behind magical flows far surpasses that of the average student.
Just like Luz Noceda in the Boiling Isles, the great mystery for her (and for us) will be: Where is the glyph getting its energy from? Since sorcerers use ambient magic, Yuu is going to be a pure conduit for Twisted Wonderland's ambient magic.
This means that if you draw a glyph in Diasomnia's bedroom (saturated with the magic of Malleus Draconia, one of the most powerful wizards of all) or near a magic reactor, the effect could be ten times more potent than what you calculated in your city's public library. The accidents are going to be spectacular!
Thank goodness the carriage hit her after she'd packed her suitcase, not before. She's literally equipped to survive in style.
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Prompt: YOU ARE LIKE PAPA!!!!
Aka. I'm seeing a trend. The boys are all literal carbon copies of their mommas (or one parent) at this point - so how do they feel having a child that’s THEIR spitting image? In which your genes didn’t even try. Physically...and personality.
Masterlist: LinkedUP
Fandom: Twisted Wonderland
Characters: House-Wardens
Format: Headcannons+ imagine (Yes, I know I said I wouldn't be doing bullets anymore...but one more? It's mixed. Can't just cold turkey a gal)
A/N: Do I want to make this a series?...I do not know. Maybe? It's really hard to write without the kids having names - and I'm just here like...can I use the names I want? I already made them up in a past post. Would that ruin the experience for people? I mean - it's my stuff and I can do what I want but hmmm....
Warning(?): For this to be, MC's the one who popped the kid out and has reproductive ability to house spawn. Kiddos are biological. Talk of pregnancy and general child-rearing. Use of mother and she/her pronouns to make my life a bit easier.
Riddle couldn't care if his child looked like him down to the last freckle on is butt. What mattered most in that delivery room was that the child came out healthy with no complications. He's the father that doesn't shy away from asking the doctor + midwives questions - perhaps too many, since you nearly toss him out of the delivery room for causing unneeded distress.
In all honesty? Had he studied medicine like his mother pushed - Riddle would've been the one delivering his own child. He copes with stress through control - so imagine THAT scenario.
After birth, he cares much more for the child's skills and manners rather than their appearance. Do they wash their hands before every meal? Say their please and thank you? Do they trust him enough to state their opinions - respectfully, not a potty mouth.
Riddle can and will make them lick a bar of soap if they utter a curse word before the age of 15.
How's their academic drive? Are they social? It's very important that they get along well with others from an early age. He wants them to have many friends.
He's so focused on their personality - aiming to raise a happy, confident, healthy child - that Riddle takes compliments on their physical attributes with a grain of salt until his hard work all those years child-rearing amass into... well, a second less intense version of himself.
He's adamant to ensure the child's homelife is better than what he had growing up. In a way, he misses much while worrying about other things. 10/10 an anxious father, but very doting despite being strict.
"Must I paint a heart on my cheek every day? Why not a crown, or something more fitting us? Like a rose?" his daughter huffed, yet went to paint a large red heart over her cheekbone regardless.
Just like her father, she'd received her invitation to Night Raven. The girl was expecting it, her certainty fueled by perfect grades and a strong aptitude for magic. She did not lack confidence.
Just like her father, she was assured to land in Heartslabyul. Already prepping her cheek-mark before the mirror made any verdict.
Just like her father, she aimed for the position of Housewarden before setting a single foot on campus.
Yet unlike her father, she held no issues in speaking her grievances. She bemoaned about packing, groveled at her mother's feet for her favorite biscuits before living off cafeteria meals, and surely had no reservations stealing Riddle's best fountain pen for her studies.
She keenly resembled a certain ginger that still calls the Rosehearts' household every day despite getting blue-screened by the answering machine.
That’s the last time Riddle allows you to chose the godfather of his child. Ace is an insufferable influence without that power to toss around.
Riddle sighed, plucking the brush from her fingers and pinning her V-shaped bangs back to examine her uniform. He flattens her lapels and redoes her necktie.
His necktie. Gods he’s raised a little thief.
For a moment, as he loops the tie-knot, he's a young boy calling the girl's mother over each morning to straighten her uniform. It's nostalgic, especially with how his daughter squirms under his appraisal.
Definetly her mother’s daughter, he thinks.
It is then that Riddle sees himself through her wide eyes - they're the same greyish blue that were hardened on his first day. His daughter's are much kinder, he notes. She'll easily find companions to eat her meals with.
Her cheeks are full with sweetness- his were too, but by genetic design rather than an extra treat here and there. To this day his baby-face lingers.
Her cheeks were 100% rounded with uncle Trey's spoiling. Not that Riddle could deny her when he'd eat just as much sweets while toiling over papers in his office. He remembers the familiar patter of feet slipping in, tiny hands pushing a cookie on his desk and coating it with crumbs.
He'd scold her to bring a plate next time, but take a break from work to enjoy the moment. Strict yet not domineering. A child that shares should be encouraged, at least that's what one of his many parenting manuals said.
She shared his button nose and tiny stature. Except she loved wearing matching Mary-Janes with her mother, while he wouldn't be caught without a heel at that age. She inherited his height but not his insecurity. Thank goodness.
Perhaps all those comments about his genetics weren't solely in regard to her magical prowess or ambitions.
"....Father? Hellloooo?" she side-stepped to grab her bags, just as he reached to flatten her hair for the fifth time. His heart mellowed enough to not scold her impropriety.
"Ah - " Riddle coughed into his fist, " - apologies, little rose. I just never realized how much you look like -"
"You?” She cut in, “Yeah, psssssh. Mother says it at least once a day. About time you listened."
Riddle snorted, pinching between his brows. Yes, of course it was said. Although only now was he beginning to believe it.
"In appearances, yes. Yet your manners are as deplorable as ever."
Leona hopes his children are nothing like him. Which is impossible, since beastmen carry dominant traits when pitted against humans. He's not surprised in the slightest when his child has two little cub-ears atop their head, or that tiny chord barely passing as a tail. A ready snack he threatens to bite off when they misbehave.
At the very least, he hoped for your eyes. His piercing citrine was attractive, no doubt about that. He's not displeased to have them peer up at him from a bassinette each morning. Yet it is your eyes that carry a softness that this palace needs for him to get through his day.
Hey. At least there's no question of paternity. The joke falls flat with the midwives though. 'course it does.
Multiple times, by the way. For someone who claims to dislike loud children, Leona's genes are intent to sire three spitting images of himself.
In every which way - from their squeaky yawns after a mid-day siesta, to the magic flowing in their veins.
"Papa! Look what I learned how to do!"
Leona barely had time to look up from his endless pile of paperwork. The damn thing was near endless, and he'd missed three scheduled siestas just trying to get through the civil dispute filings. His brother spared no mercy in delegating the less 'enthusing' tasks to his 'smart, wise, people-smart' - pah - little brother.
He hated the sea of menial administrative filings.
His eldest daughter was well aware - she hated her homework just as much.
"A stampede's on it's way! Better freeze up before it's too late!"
Which is why she chose that moment to turn her beloved papa's woes to stone. Literally.
The moment her little fingers touched papyrus, the entire stack turned into solid rock. As did the blood in Leona's veins.
Sparkly citrine eyes looked at him expectantly. Somewhere in the palace the lioness' tutor was undoubtly scouring to find her, take her back to magic theory, maybe try to cover this up from the other servants.
"You - OI! I needed those - urk, what else have you turned to stone?" he drops the pen in his hand and tries to move the now frozen stack into a drawer.
"Dammit Ki'faji...Where are your tutors? This is exactly why I told your mom combined lessons with Cheka would be a hassle," Leona grumbles and kicks from his desk, quick to check the hall outside. The kid was a bad influence - rambunctious as a twerp and even more riled up as a preteen.
Upon seeing no servants, guards, or even Cheka running up after his cousin - Leona's both relieved and angered.
Angered that his daughter was left alone. She probably escaped to avoid classwork, which he did too at that age but she deserved better. A proper education outside of solitude. One where she could hopefully grow up optimistic about this country and the people inside of it.
Relieved that no servant witnessed her Unique magic. They wouldn't understand. He can't bear the thought of them speaking of her like they did him.
Except it would be inevitable.
Then angered again, because in his hurry her little tail tucked between her legs. She hugged the side of his work desk with her hands fisted at the hem of her tunic. Her lips set in a scared pout, looking up at him past that untamed mane in her eyes. Worried.
"Papa...did I do something wrong?"
He wonders if this is what his father felt like. Being confronted with your own child, knowing that by cruel fate they'd have to face hardships and hatred for something out of their control.
Suffocating. His own throat felt full of sand. The leather on his hands too tight.
She looked so much like him. Acted like him. That much Leona never once contested. Ki-Faji bemoaned to the skies that it was like time never passed, and he was stuck in a loop teaching the same unruly child.
It was funny, until it wasn't.
"Nah, kiddo. Nothin' like that," he tried to keep his usual drawl. Unclench his fists. Forget about when he first slipped gloves on, "ya gotta warn me before a shock like that. So you finally got your magic tamed down, huh? Good job."
He shut the door and it set closed with a load thud. Leona might have an idea of what his father felt, but right now? She came first.
Ensuring she felt wanted, strong, and damn right accomplished - came first. Everything else later.
So with just a few strides, he swept her up over his shoulder and out from under that desk. She giggled and squawked about turning 'him' to stone if he made her go back to classes.
And Leona made no promises, but set her on the edge of his desk with 'threats' of turning her sweets to sand if she didn't at least try.
"With Unique Magic like that, you'll out-class your cousin before he even catches wind," and a bit of rivalry never hurt to keep the bloodline strong too.
Which judging by his daughter's immediate squirming to go and turn the first-prince to stone? She inherited Leona's competitive streak as well.
Unions between Merfolk and Humans are rare. Roughly 1/100 and that is giving benefit of the doubt. There were too many boundaries and complications. Prejudice born from history, the need for transfiguration, differing lifespans and culture.
One strong deterrent, perhaps the most impactful, is childrearing. The genetic output - while not impossible - is exceedingly unpredictable. Each species of merfolk reproduces differently, and their genetic dominance when put against a human's gene (especially if the mother is human) can cause complications. Capricious complications.
And as we all know - Azul is not fond of chance. Were his child to be born on land, yet have gills? Their lungs are so small, so new, they wouldn't make it to water in time. The same could be if they were born underwater and needed air.
One thing he is certain of, is that Octopi carry strong genetics. Literally. Should the child inherit his strength its kicks could do much more to your stomach than be a tickle to fawn over.
His mother wanted grandchildren, as did his great-grandmother did great grandchildren. Truth be told he wouldn't be opposed to raise one to leave his legacy to. Yet the Ashengrotto genes were strong with each descendent, so much that when he discovered you were with child? He couldn't be happy. Not truly - because too much was at risk and out of his control.
He prayed, which is not something Azul ever does, that the child would take after you. At each stage of development you were monitored down to the last detail, looking for any complications. Even the slightest hint of a tentacle or incompatibility.
Luckily, the child formed feet. Its first kick scared the hell out of him, but at most left you sore. Yet he wasn't able to relax. Not until you were taken care of in the best hospital on land, with a literal aquarium set up next to the bed just in case.
A medical marvel. That's what this child was.
Not a miracle. Not a blessing.
A medical marvel, and the most beautifully unpredictable thing that has ever happened to Azul in his entire life.
There was no clear picture of how his son might look at birth. He waited with bated breath, mentally running through every text he could find on mer-human unions. Banking on all the preparations He arranged and trying not to bite through his nails from the anxiety. The success rate was too low, but you insisted.
And he was most fortunate, because had you not then he wouldn't be holding the most cherished prize of his life.
The baby didn't cry, yet neither did he according to his mother. He was pale, no gills in sight but the wispy swirls of light gray on his head showed Azul's genes wouldn't rescind everything.
It was hidden from view for now, but there were signs of mixed blood on his son's skin. Plentiful black dots spotted his entire body, too dark to be freckles yet too light to be like Azul's outer skin in his mer-form. Time would only tell if Azul's genes really did overtake all, and if his son would look at the world with wet purple eyes.
Yet what struck Azul the most wasn't these obvious traits, ones he predicted at the very start of your pregnancy after endless nights of research.
It was that right below his son's lip, in the same spot as his father, was a small mole. That truly was by chance with no genetic influence.
He thumbed the little speck, marveling at something so small yet he didn't realize he wanted until it was there.
"You weren't lying, huh? Those are some strong genetics you carry."
Azul balked, just barely stopping himself from whipping around too quick. He turned to scold you for not sleeping, worry ebbing at him all over again.
Yet you rest your head against his shoulder, cheek pressed into his ruffled button down to sink against him. His heart still spun like it did as a teenager.
"Look at his little head of hair," you laughed, and he mutely did just that, "if he gets glasses, then I think my bloodline's finished. Might as well say you did mitosis"
That got him to scoff.
"Hardly," he said dismissively, but his lips pulled to smile regardless, "I don't recall giving him feet. That's all your doing."
"Well excuse me for not having eight legs."
"You are excused," he snickered, "Truly, he would be so much more productive with them."
Azul didn't mean that. Well, partially. Yes his son would get much more done with four sets of arms but with other costs.
You hadn't pressed, and he was grateful.
Kalim wants a large family. Not only because it is expected of him as the eldest Asim, but also because he is a family man. He adores his siblings and does his absolute best to give them all attention despite their large quantity.
He's the most doting husband, and is even more attentive as a parent. One thing he will do differently from his father is keeping his family 'small'. Four children minimum, six children maximum. Monogamous as well. As much as he loves all his siblings, the unspoken tensions are too much to endure. Kalim's also a one-spouse kind of guy, and the thought of sharing - while normal for someone of his status - is not for him. No amount of suggestion or pressure will change that. It is bad enough that his children will be subject to worries about their uncles, aunties, and cousins possibly harboring ill-will. Kalim is set on ensuring that they are part of a true family, one without such tensions, and that he can give them all the love they deserve.
Perhaps he feels guilt as the eldest. He received the most attention from his father as the heir, but he has siblings who barely know anything about their father aside from how he looks. He has step-mothers he has met only in formality, and as time went on there were strains between his siblings that he couldn't ignore. Not after taking his official seat.
Kalim will not be the same as his father. Regardless for his respect and love for the man - No matter what the future does to him, no matter if he lives a long life or one cut short. Kalim will make sure his spouse and children are cared for. He loves them more than anything on the planet.
Should he have a family, and the situation demand it? He'd give up his spot as heir in a heartbeat and move far out into the dunes with nothing but the clothes on his back. All for them to be happy and safe. That's the kind of dad he is.
"Baba?"
Kalim resisted the urge to giggle. His eldest son hated when Kalim acted too childlike, and he was already pushing the boy's patience. He was just past thirteen, his fourteenth birthday already planned for a week-long celebration in just a half-month. It would be the biggest banquet the Scaldings Sands had see since Kalim's wedding. His son would soon start officially training as the next head Asim, just like Kalim did at that age.
Yet it was never too early to celebrate one of the best days of Kalim's life. Which is exactly why Kalim hovered outside the boy's window at an hour long past their family's 'bedtime'. The carpet under his feet familiar as ever, as was his son's exhausted disapproval (we wonder which attendant he inherited 'that' look from).
"Come on! Let's go for a carpet ride. Just you and me tonight," Kalim gently pat the space next to him, his smile adamant, "we don't even have to tell your mother."
His son deadpanned. Even Kalim grimaced at that one.
"Okay! If we get caught, I'll take the hit for both of us. Please? It's such a lovely night out. Perfect for a flight~"
Normally it would be the son begging his father to sneak out, not the other way around. Yet Kalim's eldest was much more mature than he was at that age. Despite being his physical copy, those ruby reds never sparkled with excitement like his father's. They were aways fully concentrated - be it on his studies, his charity, or whomever captured his attention. There came a point when a rumor surfaced that he couldn't possibly be Kalims, yet they didn't reach far thanks to the physical resemblance.
The 'only' resemblance. Since the kid hadn't cracked a laugh since he was in diapers.
Something Kalim learned to accept, but never gave up trying.
His son observed from his bed, the boy's nose wrinkled with thought. No doubt wondering if he should tattle to his mom. He was a doting momma's boy, at least he had that in common with his father.
"Fine," he sighed heavily, and rolled out of bed like it was torture.
Kalim waited, holding the curtain open eagerly until his boy hopped the ledge and sat cross-legged on the carpet's far edge.
Then they were off. High above the city where no one would see. Kalim bobbed his head happily, pointing out buildings as if his son hadn't memorized the entire map of their homeland at the ripe age of five.
"Oh! And there's the restaurant I took your mother on our first date. She loves their Kanafeh -"
"Baba, I know. We have it for breakfast twice every week."
Kalim guided the carpet towards lower ground without a response - keeping air, sassy teenagers, and his messy turban from whacking him in the face.
Only two of those three succeeded.
"Why are we even out here? Shouldn't you worry more about your responsibilities? What if mother wakes to an empty bed, did you consider the consequences? Her worries?"
There came those older thoughts out of such a young mouth. Kalim couldn't help but slump inwards, although his smile still hung on.
"You're turning fourteen soon," life will change, "Don't you want to enjoy life a bit more before starting your studies? Baba will understand, you know." he said, and perhaps that was not what his son expected to hear. The boy puffed up. His tanned skin rouging with lost composure.
"I'm not like you. Being al Asim means something to me. Maybe you'd understand if you were a proper sultan who took his job and family seriously! Rather than sneaking off in the night for merry rides on a flying carpet!"
Under the moonlight, his son's perfectly primmed white hair bounced in the wind. Even in sleep he managed to keep his appearance tidy. There were times it was like Kailm was looking in warped a mirror. Those rare moments when he caught the boy lapse, usually with his younger siblings or cousins. When he looked softer, his garnet eyes full of kindness rather than the contempt held in them right now.
Except in these moments too - he still saw a mirror. Just one he wished to avoid.
He too disliked his father's way of doing things, to a certain extent. That his own son felt similar wasn't a surprise. It did not lessen the sting regardless.
"Tifli..." Kalim started, and his son faltered at the endearment, "think what you want, but there is nothing that means more to me than our family."
And even if his son wouldn't admit to it - Kalim knew he saw the mirror too. Just because Kalim disliked his father's choices, didn't mean he did not love him.
He reached for his son without a second thought, pulling the boy down to roughly rub his cheek over his head.
and just like that, Kalim was back to being happy and his son back to groaning complaints - albeit less agitated, to Kalim's delight - and pretending he was much more mature than he was deep down. Kalim's opposite yet perfect little replica.
"Ahahaha!!! Look at you! Just wait until the council has to fight against that fire! I can't wait to bring you with me! "
"AGH LET ME GO!!! WHY DID I EVEN AGREE TO THIS?!"
Papa Vil - now that's one unexpected title to tack onto his Resume. Contrary to what everyone might believe of a superstar leading a life on the go, Vil is proud to be a father. His own raised him while juggling his goals, why should Vil's career deny him the joys of fatherhood?
No. When Vil's daughter is born, he is more than prepared to balance family and work. He locked in when taking a spouse, and is never one to be unprepared.
When you were pregnant, he announced a hiatus in his career just as you entered the third trimester. He can afford it. The public loves a family man. He has money money, and wasn't going to risk missing the birth of his first child while travelling.
Also. Supportive husband to the maximum. Considering you were carrying his child, the bare minimum he could do was be readily available as you go through the roughest stage. That baby had a college fund made and filled before she was even born.
Not that he'd just let her mooch - no child of his would grow up without ambition and practiced life skills. He was not 'aiming' to create a replica or enforce his standards...but she wouldn't lack drive. No Schoenheit - not even you - is going to go through life quietly.
His hiatus was meant to extend until she turned one. Old enough to enjoy life on the road, for you to recover, and give 3-5 years for him to work until she started school. Unlike him at that age, she wouldn't be chartered around as much for his work. Nope.
He already had it planned. She'd be enrolled in a private academy, you'd work as you liked in a good neighborhood, and he wouldn't take any contracts outside of the Shaftlands until she was a teenager. Balance. She would have every opportunity, proper support, and hopefully independence to grow outside of his shadow.
The last thing Vil wanted was for her to be influenced by his career - well, other than admiring his films and being that perfect little face to single out int the audience while at a talk-show or photoshoot.
Speaking of Schoenheit genetics and their blossoming careers - heavens above, he fell in love the moment she first opened her eyes. There were few curly blond ringlets that grew out at super speed as the months past, and she inherited his lavender eyes. Although on a baby they were more rounded, doe-like, and would most definitely take his sharp edge as she grew. Every time he booped her little nose, the little giggle that came was almost melodic.
Such a well behaved baby made a cameo in one of his largest projects to date. He took the role of an unruly ostracized duke, where the special effects makeup made him both enchanting yet horribly frightening to young children. His character gained his redemption through raising an orphan, and Vil's little girl was the only baby they could find who wouldn't cry when seeing her father act so heinous.
"Vil, everyone here is itching to know, is it true that the baby we see in 'Redemption of our Finest ' is your own daughter? There are rumors and speculations from those on set yet we'd love confirmation."
Vil shifts in his chair. The many cameras at all angles did little to deter his focus from the interview in progress. It was one of many, and the talk-host across from him looked very eager to get the first scoop on his latest hit success. He smiled to the camera with his eyes, pretending to be in thought for a moment. The questions were all pre-approved, after all.
"Your assumption and the rumors are all correct," he started, crossing his legs and folding his hands together in them, "unfortunately we struggled to find a child that would not cry when faced with my appearance. Poor little things - it is a struggle to rear child actors. Especially babies."
The reporter blinked, somehow still shocked despite knowing the already.
"And you're saying that your daughter is a cut above the rest?" they asked, and he tutted inwardly. The phrasing was poor, as always with these reporters.
"Yes," he gave them a moment's victory, "and no."
He didn't wait for further inquiry.
"My daughter is remarkable - she is my greatest production, a work of perfection alongside my beloved spouse. Yet this film is rated PG-13, and includes scenes not fit for young eyes. Babies act on instincts alone, and for the majority of this film my appearance was...ah, I so rarely say this, but I was unsightly."
His tone carried warning for them not to twist his words, and the message was received as they gestured for those behind the scenes to alter the backdrop.
"We could even argue your acting ability is that good! To make such a beautiful face and poised demeanor come off as cold." they said, and with the click of a button the screen behind them changed.
On it came a picture of an old, tattered bassinette left on the front stoop of a castle. The picture flicked to show inside, and in it was Vil's precious little girl. Special effects added some dirt on her cheeks, and they wrapped her in a tattered blanket for the scene. Yet despite their efforts to make the child look abandoned, Schoenheit genetics demanded the world see such an adorable baby for all she is.
The audience awed at the picture, even without a cue card. Vil himself took on a genuine lift to his practiced smile when seeing her.
"And just look at her folks! Such an adorable little baby! Can you really expect anything less from THE Vil Schoenheit and Eric Venue's heritage. An actor before she can even count! Your wife's genes didn't even try here, did they Vil?"
The crowd appears insatiable as the host scrolls through a series of photos. Some taken from the film, others from photoshoots and the occasional candid photo snuck by paparazzi. He knew better than to try and hide his family, but said nothing as they all made assumptions.
After all - he was beautiful, and his daughter was undoubtedly the most beloved baby in all of Twisted Wonderland. It was only natural and who was he to turn his nose when faced with one of the few facts these reporters have gotten right.
Although, he wasn't entirely content
He laughed into his palm, unable to resist the chance and made direct eye-contact with one of the cameras. Knowing full well that you were watching somewhere back stage, lips likely puckered from being disrespected and just waiting for him to come sneak your family out before the public was dismissed.
"I'm afraid there is nothing to argue there. My genes are perfection, not to mention competitive," he smirked seductively at the camera, propping his chin in the palm of his hand, "but I'm not opposed if my wife would like a rematch for a chance to win the next battle."
And with that - he simultaneously spiked his popularity rating and soft-launched what would likely be a second replica coming to life soon.
Maybe.
If you didn't kill him for that stunt first.
Prodigies spawn prodigies. At least in this case.
Idia never pictured himself as a family man. Hells he never thought anyone would even look at him with anything other than disgust (minus that one ghost lady. He doesn’t like to talk about it) let alone marry him. Needless to say that he cannot decide if you are an idiot or if he has plot armor - because those are the only two reasons you could possibly ever agree to give up your entire life and move to STYX just to be with him.
**see Marriage series for settling THAT can of worms
Yet you do, and now he’s got not only his little brother but a whole ass spouse. He’s on cloud nine. Life cannot be letting him have such good luck. The RNG is rigged
Until he learns that you’re with child - and it all goes boom. Literally. Since not only does his daughter inherit his curse, his fiery flames that never tame themselves, and his spiked teeth that nip his lips way too many times for comfort -
She inherits his genius.
Raising a child in a contained base is a living nightmare.
Raising a child with a need to infiltrate the laboratories and experiment is hell. At least he kept to his room when tinkering as a kid. Idia’s daughter has his brains and your craftiness for going around undetected…and your habit of initiating dramatic events. Needless to say that she does NOT keep to your family’s apartment, does NOT submit to any security (he regrets teaching her how to decode the base padlocks), and very much enjoys making STYX ‘lively’….haha…yeah
No one has ever met such a happy Shroud. Excluding Ortho. He was a sweet type of happy. You spawned a menace.
But let’s not derail. Even if he didn’t want her per-say - Idia loves his daughter. His gut twisted seeing the Shroud curse start taking hold over such a tiny body. She was just a toddler and already burning through enough blot to tie her to this place. He knew the feeling of those youthful amber eyes looking at him for guidance. She looked so much like Ortho as a toddler, and as a child began to resemble him more with longer flames.
It was a constant battle every day. Balancing his work while also trying to do better - because his attitude sucked. He knew his attitude sucked. You warned him about using self-deprecative language and for the most part he did learn to reign it in.
Except old habits die hard, and deep down he still struggles to like himself. Seeing his daughter follow in his footsteps burns brutally, since she has all this potential and just like him she’ end up working for the family business without a choice. All because of these stupid flames and these stupid teeth and these stupid genetics and this STUPID curse -
“MAMAAAAAAAA!!!! DADDY’S BEING A BIG MEANIE AGAIN!!!”
Her shrill high-pitched cry carried throughout the apartment. Idia had just enough time to swipe the alarm system off before it processed. He wishes he could regret putting a system to detect and alert if she was distressed when alone here - but couldn’t. Even now. Since this was totally 100% his fault.
Dammit this kid has lungs of steel.
“Nonononononono - No Mama! No! Shhh shh shh shh!” He grapppled at her little shoulders with clammy hands, “Look! Look I’m not sad, see??? We have pretty hair! Super cool hair! Please please please stop crying -“
And then she did.
The tonal whiplash. The way this tiny manipulator just ceased all her tears, mouth clamping shut with an audible click. A literal child pulling out a handkerchief from her pocket to pat her eyes dry - like some twisted 60yr old swindler at a poker game who’s been training for this moment for decades.
He should have known.
Honestly. Idia can’t even bring himself to be mad. The amount of gaslighting it took to get this kid off his Ninswendo last week already put his best tricks to use.
He is the one who created this monster.
Just like her dad - his little girl was hyper aware of people. Including him, and picked up all his weaknesses. She knew damn well that he genuinely had reason to fear only two people - her momma and her grandmother. Both of which lecture him about being a good model. She knew that system was put in place, and to be good when no one was around to watch her. Not that she ever stayed quiet in their home with S.T.Y.X labs to infiltrate.
He just never thought the day would come, when her demon like tendencies would be used for something like this.
“Your her father, not her friend” his mother said.
“It’s bad enough you turned me into a living photocopier - don’t you dare get lenient with her at this age” you warned.
“That child scares me” he thought, and you agreed. Awful. Awful parents. You both mean it in the most loving way possible.
“Hwee hee hee! I’m glad you think so, daddy,” she grinned up at him all sweet-like, with those pointy little chompers ready to stake their claim. She snapped her teeth at him like a piranha, “hehe~ Mommy says our teeth are cool too. The pointies make eating steak easier - oh! Oh! Can we please have steak for dinner tonight? Please?? Pleaseeeeee?”
Something told him that should he say no, those distress detectors would be set off before he could catch them.
“U-uh…yeah, kiddo. Sure thing. Just go play and I’ll put an order in.”
He tried desperately to hide the quiver in his voice, but knew he failed. She skipped off to her bedroom much too happily - even if father’s were supposed to want their kids to be happy, that was too much - and whatever work remained for the evening didn’t seem important
As Idia slid up to one of the house control panels to check for instant-card delivery, he wondered how this became his life, and if this is how his parents felt having a prodigal spawn of the under-hells for a son.
No. He wasn’t that bad….was he? Did he even want to know at this point?
Boom
“DADDY!!! MY EXPERIMENT BLEW UP AND IS LEAKING RED GUNK!”
No. No. He really did not want to know. For the sake of whatever relationship he had with his parents.
He wants as many children as possible. The definition of that one clip of of the kid who wanted 100 children, so that they'd all have to be his friend. Not that Malleus would force his children to be his friends - well, it would be a plus surely - but he does want a large family to live his life beside.
He finds comfort in solitude, but comfort's close companion is loneliness. He wishes to never be partnered with that feeling. There was opposition. Union between the Briar Prince and a human? Unheard of. Not to mention the life-span difference. Not just between himself and you, but also for his children. Half-fae live long, but not as long as full-blooded fae. In time he will still come out alone, but he hopes to have many memories. Much love and warmth to take with him.
Yet this isn't meant to be sad - no, let us focus on the absolute joy he felt when his first child was born. A boy, his magic exceedingly strong despite his lineage. Even the elders were surprised at the magical prowess this child held. It was almost as if Malleus' nightly wishes for his child to be well, to be loved, to be healthy - taking every precaution to ensure you were well cared for during pregnancy, speaking blessings to your stomach in the dead of night - it all just manifested and out came the world's most perfect child.
A Draconia who would grow up with both parents. He'd be protected, nurtured, loved, and never ever alone. Some might call the King overbearing, making sure his spouse had a desk in his office and attending his meetings with a bright yellow baby sling over his chest. It definitely stood out against his royal attire but Malleus didn't mind.
In magic - there was also physical appearance. Being half-human, the child physically aged quicker than Malleus did in his youth. Yet he still retained the Draconia genes, with two curled scaly horns poking out above his forehead. He had no tail at birth, but around puberty many little scales began to poke their way through at his temple, back, wrists, and neck. No one predicted this since the Draconias have never reproduced with humans, but you tried to calm him with poorly convoluted jokes about ' fancy dragon acne'.
Yet according to Lilia, the boy looked like a near carbon-copy of Malleus once he sprouted up. His hair may have been kept shorter, slicked back, and he may carry himself entirely different from his father. Yet the look in his slitted-emerald eyes was exactly the same. His aura was the same.
And Malleus hadn't any idea how to handle that observation. Surely it was meant as a compliment. In the moment, he laughed and took it as one. Who wouldn't be prideful to see themselves in their child? Especially one so accomplished, growing into his scales with pride and eagerly stepping into his role as prince.
Except Malleus wouldn't, because the thought of his child sharing the feelings he had at that age? It unsettled him greatly. Perhaps one of his worst nightmares as a doting father.
“Father?”
Three sharp knocks echoed in Malleus’ study. He needn’t look up from his book, since the door opened with a thud without waiting for his approval.
Not that he minded - no, quite the contrary. He felt excitement building up at the first knock after all. There was only one person who it could be.
No one would dare impose on the Briar King during his downtime.
None had permission for such rudeness.
No one except his dear family, of course. Although as much as he wished for them to cling to his side and be a welcome reprise from his duties - Malleus was rarely afforded such a gift. His eldest son in particular conducted himself more as a knight or distant consultant than a loving son. Perhaps that came from leaving him in Sebek’s care - as much as his knight was ecstatic to become the first prince’s personal guard, his constant reverence to the elder briar ways likely left an impact on an impressionable child. Instead of bedtime stories, the little Draconia likely fell asleep to Sebek's long-winded lectures on the daily.
Back when he was a starry-eyed toddler, of course. Now the boy wouldn't dare let his guard down enough to sleep, even if his safety was guaranteed. Somehow despite Malleus taking every last precaution to rear a tranquil child, he raised a stickler instead.
“Hm? You look troubled, my son” Malleus met his eldest’s rare lack of decorum with amusement. He didn’t bother to hide a fanged smirk from him.
His son, who seemed to bristle in the doorway when under Malleus’ eye, clearly struggled to contain himself into the proper prince he was trying to be.
“Because I am troubled, father” he grit out, hands flexing at his sides. Sharp black fingernails pricking at his palms.
“Oh? And what seems to be the problem? You so rarely come to me with such matters” - to anyone who didn’t know the king, the sentence read as a bitter slight.
Yet it was merely a father sulking for his son’s attention, in his own prideful way.
“That’s precisely the issue,” his son huffed, “with all held respect, you cannot just drop in on my classes whenever you feel like it! It’s disruptive!”
Malleus merely turned the page in his book, “and whose fault is it that I had to resort to such measures?”
His question met a guilty conscience, and so he continued.
“What else am I to do? My child no longer behaves as my blood. He writes home giving stale reports as if he is one of my soldiers and bids his precious family far too few visits,” Malleus looks up from his ‘reading,’ and gestures to the uniform his son wears, “What else am I to do to see my precious son, other than visit his school? I was a student there once. Your headmaster wouldn’t dare to deny my entry.”
“Father - I understand your anger with my negligence but that is not an excuse for disrupting my classmates -“
“They looked quite please with my presence. I even supplemented material for your lecture -“
“They were scared beyond their wits! - And what of mother?! Surely she was against doing something so drastic! Think of our image! The King of Briar Valley cannot just casually drop his responsibilities whenever he so pleases.”
The boy’s composure finally cracked - and even for a half-blood, his power easily contorted the world around them if left unteathered.
Crackles of electricity buzzed across the study, flickering through a lit desk-lamp. As did the temperature lessen some degrees. Rather than be miffed by his son’s explosion, Malleus laughed in the face of it.
So this is how he must have looked during his moments of impulsivity. Hah.
“You’d be foolish to assume she didn’t try and come along. I thought to spare you her ire, as a mercy.”
At that, the lamp ceased it’s flickering to beam a steady light once again. The teen’s cheeks flushed a shameful color, so rare for one who prides himself more than any of his siblings.
"That was not necessary," he softened almost instantly. Even if she nearly committed the same 'crime' as Malleus, it seems favorites were at play.
"You know with certainty that it was."
A Draconia through and through. What was the term Lilia used? “Momma’s boy”? Considering that none disrespect the Queen - the King included - as her ire could strike the most sore spots of their family after all.
The boy pulled at his collar, out of arguments and simmered to displeasure rather than anger. He muttered an apology for losing his temper, and Malleus found himself wishing for the argument to continue just a bit longer.
After all, these were the times he felt most like a father, a husband, part of a family - rather than a king. He misses the early days when he was only the first three, before the council and other influences pushed his children to focus on responsibilities and their lineage.
“I’m sorry for not writing home…or visiting…I hadn’t thought it would trouble you. I simply - I thought it best to place distance between us.”
“Distance?” Malleus balked, “Distance from your family?”
He couldn’t understand why his child would want distance.
How could the boy he worked so hard to instill belonging within, whom he raised from egg to man, whom he would give up everything for - possibly say such a harrowing thing.
His own blood. His heart and soul. To spew such things in the face of ancestors who were bound to loneliness.
Whatever explanation for his manners didn’t matter so long as he was happy, but to intentionally want to be away from all Malleus thought worthwhile in life?
Never-mind. Malleus wanted the argument to cease. Indefinitely. And to tie himself to this desk for a decade or more.
“Yes, Father. Otherwise it is too difficult-“ he hesitated to continue, but one look at his father- whatever expression he might hold that couldn’t be contained despite his efforts - seemed to be the last push, “- being away. From my family. Leaving. I do not like it, but it is my duty. Coming home, hearing from you, mother, even the care packages I receive from grandfather! I can’t eat them but somehow just smelling the burnt food makes me falter! How can you expect me to preform up to our family’s standards, if I am homesick all the time!?”
It was the first time since he was a boy, clinging to Malleus’ legs, begging his parents not to leave him with his babysitters, that his son cried so openly. Malleus nearly gave in each time it happened too.
The pressure of royal duties, of perfection, on his shoulders was the same as those who came before him. Yet Malleus found himself more relieved than anything, even if his child might never recover his pride.
It was also the first time in many years that Malleus hugged his son, careful to avoid his growing blunted horns, and wasn’t pushed away.
“You are already doing more than enough. Loving your family is nothing to be ashamed of, and it is one of my greatest regrets that you thought otherwise for a single moment.”
Everyone seemed to like the “YOU ARE LIKE PAPA” post so…I thought I’d share a bit of some inspiration I had for it? That prompt actually started out as a character design idea lol.
I haven’t inked these or anything but…here’s a bit of my TWST KiddoVerse. Just so y’all can see a bit of what I see? Like always, Heartslabyul kings come first
I’ll be turning the og “YOU ARE LIKE PAPA” into a series…also inking these and the rest of kiddoverse too at some point hehe
Prompt: YOU ARE LIKE PAPA!!!! Aka. I'm seeing a trend. The boys are all literal carbon copies of their mommas (or one parent) at this point - so how do they feel having a child that’s THEIR spitting image? In which your genes didn’t even try.Physically...and personality.
Masterlist: LinkedUP
Fandom: Twisted Wonderland
Characters: Vice Housewardens + Ruggie
Part(s): Housewardens | Vice HouseWardens (here) | Everyone Else
Format: Headcannons+ imagine
A/N: I didn't expect anyone to like the first part of this...but people asked for a part two, so why not? Have fun reading <3
Warning(?): For this to be, MC's the one who popped the kid out and has reproductive ability to house spawn. Kiddos are biological. Talk of pregnancy and general child-rearing. Use of mother and she/her pronouns to make my life a bit easier. Extra warning for Ruggie's part for pregnancy difficulties + dangers.
Oddly enough, Trey raises natural sweet talkers. His daughter might just literally be made of sugar, spice, and everything nice. She's sweet as pecan pie and all the neighborhood kids look up to her.
A little leader in the making, so to speak. She's the head honcho on the playground and the kids always come over to her house to play (although Trey's certain that them living above a bakery plays a strong role). Uncle Riddle might have stressed the importance of a good education onto her an unnecessary amount, since he's caught her giving mock-lectures to her stuffed animals a few times.
All her teachers love her, saying that she's well behaved and a model student. She says her please and her thank you. Heck, she can strike up a conversation with just about anyone. Especially the days she studies in the bakery cafe. Sales go up just because she talks up his sweets and how much she loves her papa.
Too cute. Way too cute and put together to be his kid - unless?
How else could she turn out with Trey for a father? He might have his own mischief streak, but as a take-it-as-it-comes kind of guy...well, he's a solid role model from the very beginning. His little girl has many aunties and uncles looking out for her. He was basically a second-father to his siblings, so they're always around making sure she's well spoiled. The Clover household is never short a babysitter.
Like most fathers, all Trey wants is for his kids to live happy lives. He's guilty of being a push-over at times, because despite having practice there's an extra layer of anxiety when it's your own kid. He doesn't want to mess this up. Since she might be looking at him the same way he looked up to his father.
Even as she aged, with her spikey green hair that never seemed to tame no matter what style he tried. Or her golden eyes that all his kids seemed to share - your genetics just wouldn't catch up...or the day he took her to get glasses, and she proudly picked bulky black frames that resembled his. Even though she had hundreds of pairs to choose from.
Trey might not verbally recognize it, but there was no 'might' in this scenario. She admired him, and he's doing much more as a father than simply making sure she takes care of her teeth, or being the flexible dad that every kid in in the neighborhood is jealous of.
That's just how fathers are, it seems. Doing their best, always trying to make the safe choice. Be the person their family can rely on and trust. Valuable traits that Trey claims he lacks, but where else is she picking it up from?
"Dad...I don't want to go to college."
It takes a strong heart and mind for a child to express themselves. Trey's been the confident to his siblings when they were scared to tell their parents about a bad grade, or when they broke something. He always pushed for honesty and to make amends.
Yet they were still scared.
His eldest daughter was not. She sat with him in the back room of the family bakery. The one he inherited, and housed his family for many years. They sat together over a pot of tea and cranberry-pecan scones that had powder sugar dusted to look like roses on top. She sifted through the daily mail while he read the news paper - both of them covered in flour remnants from prepping the day's menu. A few hours before his wife and other children would make their way down, the former likely wrangling the others for their day at school.
Trey hummed, keeping his cool as he flipped the page.
"That's fine," he said casually, "can I ask why not? I thought Royal Sword sent you an acceptance letter? Would not be my first choice, but it's still hard to get in. "
She nibbled at her makeshift breakfast, clearly hiding a scoff. Even he still clung to the NR vs. RS rivalry for a 'pacifist'.
"They did, and I haven't responded yet...but I think trade school might work out better. Or an apprenticeship. Somewhere closer to home."
Trey closed up his paper and folded it to a neat stack. He arched an eyebrow over his lenses, skin stretching the clover mark he still painted on every day.
"And what would you study?" he asked.
"Culinary."
She said it so proudly, with her cheeks stuffed since manners seemed to be a suggestion when at home. He hadn't the heart to scold her, even when she wiped her hands on her dirty apron. Although he held out a napkin for her to take.
"That's a fine career choice," he said, watching her carefully, "but is it what you want, or what you think is expected?"
The girl read like a book - and in truth, she was already his apprentice from when those little hands first rolled cookie dough. Just like himself at that age, already running the bakery alone some days when he was just fifteen.
He went to college, of course, but knew he'd always end up back here. Except he just went with it, made his parents proud and followed the flow. It was a short reprieve if anything.
"You can be anything you want to be," he continued, "there's lots of opportunity at college. It's where I met your mother. Not that I don't think our bakery is a good career, but don't make important decisions on our account -"
"-this is where I want to be, Dad." she interjected, miffed, which was rare for the both of them yet he saw that twitch in her eye.
Rare like the short silence that stretched. Not uncomfortable, but two observers waiting for the next person to talk. She cracked first.
"If I go, I'll just end up back here anyways? I like the bakery, you're the best teacher I could ask for and there are plenty of people in this area that I consider family. So what if there are other opportunities? I like this one," she huffed while making new knots in her apron, already planning to get back to work "this is Clover bakery. My birthright as the eldest. If we were 200 years in the past, this wouldn't be a conversation."
And there she went, buffering with humor before he could even slip in a poorly timed bread pun about growth.
Trey sighed, following in her suit. Ever the push-over but oddly enough didn't feel like he was 'giving in' at all.
Maybe if he'd done the same at her age with his father, his life would be different. Not that he wanted it to be, but if she was embracing the path he walked? Well, who was he to push away the daughter so many fathers would kill for.
"Let's get back to work then - oh, but don't expect my help when you tell your mother...or Uncle Riddle. I'm your 'teacher' now, but not a miracle worker."
Hyena children all look the similar to an extent. A large factor is that most belong to lower class, and grow up malnutritioned. So they don’t get to age into their features like other predators. Everyone’s shorter than the average height, which makes living easier since most homes in the slums are made for small living. No one knows the term 'baby-fat,' let alone worries when they'll grow out of it. Kids don't get braces, and are lectured to take good care of their teeth and be careful not to knock them out. Which is hard to do if you're in a scruff, and so more hyena than not are missing at least one adult tooth by sixteen. The young folk are lean, good for slipping through big crowds. All bulk comes from muscle, which is earned by those with stamina doing village work instead of hanging at the gym.
Everyone says the Bucchi genetics are strong, especially if they meet his grandmother, but if they explored a bit around his hometown then they’d realize he isn’t that unique. At least, not physically.
Personality? Yeah, you use what you have to get where you need to be. He wasn't lacking in skills to learn or connections. His grandma passed that torch well.
Setting that aside - Ruggie’s twins don’t look anything like him when they’re young and he is FINE with it. They have plumper cheeks, wrists that won’t snap like twigs, no edge to their eyes, they take on his little airy laugh when their fangs come in too big for their mouths - but he can accept that.
Because they’re well fed and taken care of. Ruggie is NOT his father. He may not have planned for children. They're expensive and a large responsibility. There are few couples in his hometown that have the luxury of planning their children, or being able to celebrate.
They don't have the money for high-end hospitals with fancy medications. Hells, the nearest hospital is a multi-hour bus ride away. Most births are at home with the family doing a natural and holistic delivery. Which would be fine if there were the proper tools, guides, sanitation preparations, and more than one person knowing what their doing.
Pregnancy is terrifying - because the rate of losing someone in the process is too high for comfort. Not everyone gets the care they need during those nine months or in the delivery room. His mother didn't.
But Ruggie is PRESENT despite being terrified.
He's worked his tail off his whole life, and he will not stop. He already hunkered down when you became his spouse, but now? Now, he won't risk anything. This is one situation where money isn't a factor, because he's one of the lucky ones who has it. You WILL get the care you need, he WILL not need to freak out, and his children WILL grow up well. Not spoiled, but not spurned like he did.
Not scumming their dad for everything they've endured.
He'll teach them everything they need to know in life. He'll give them everything he was left wondering about. From the moment they're in his arms, until they're able to out-do him. Which will never happen, mind you.
They'll be smart, cunning, witty, and free enough to be themselves unapologetically.
"Dad! Grandpa Zeji gave me the chicken for free, and all I had to do was bat my eyes and shuck some corn for 'im!"
Ruggie cocked an eyebrow at his little half-pint, pausing mid-flip through his coupon clip. Just past thirteen and his daughter already had half the vendors around her finger. Mind you that negotiating in central city was child's play compared to where he grew up - but still.
His lip curled with pride.
"That's my girl! Did you keep the husks?" he asked.
She beamed up at him, and held out a large bag from behind her back. She gave it a shake in response, her little black ears twitching outwards. They were just starting to spot yellow at the ears, unlike her brother who seemed to be changing at his roots. Ruggie eagerly swiped the bag over his shoulder and ruffled the open spot.
"Shishishi~ That school project you two have next week is in the bag. Your mom and gran'll make pellets out of these for your sling-majig-thing"
"It's a planter that spreads the seeds out! We told you yesterday!"
She swipes at his hands, like she wasn't itching for the praise in the first place. Although once the bakery vendor starts giving them the stink-eye, Ruggie decides it might be best to keep the down low. Especially if he wants to haggle a free sample.
"Eh, whatever. Just make sure ya both get an A and good credits," he shrugged, going back to looking through goods. Although he spared her a brief glance then and there, watching her cheeky little grin slip into a polite mask. Small smile, nodding to people passing, downturned eyes a little too squinted. Yet the sunny day could easily excuse it.
She teetered and leaned against his back, covering his side. Just like he taught them both when crowds were high.
"We don't need pellets, dad...the husks are for fertilizer...ugh, you never pay attention." he overheard her grumbling.
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Smart kids but not enough if they thought he'd skimp over details.
"It wouldn't kill ya to learn though. Spend some time with your family instead of in that room."
She sucked in air. Kid forgets where she inherited that sharp hearing from.
"You're the one always telling me to study!"
He snorted.
"I also taught ya to balance your time. Do you see your brother ditching family dinner to read fantasy novels? There are starving kids in the Shaftlands, y'know. I can arrange an exchange."
She stomped on his heel and he had a mind to tuck his tail down between his legs before it got yanked. She picked that one up from Gran.
Yet before he could scold her for it, the vendor came up with his order.
"That's two bags of wheat flour, cornstarch and a pound of sugar. Anything else for you. Mr.Bucchi? How about a treat for the wife, we just got in fresh pumpkin rolls."
A classic upsell. Ruggie lightly kicks his daughter's foot as he hands over the coupons and coin for his order. Their little squabble disappears when shared interest comes up. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, indeed.
"Pumpkin?" she peers over the counter, purposefully widening her eyes "Oh! Momma loves cake, but I don't think pumpkin is her favorite...We need to get her something really delicious! I think the Castillos down the block have a new chocolate cake she might like."
She makes a show of flipping over the price tag on the display and setting it back down. She leans back behind Ruggie and mutters that the chocolate cake is a lower price, just loud enough for the vendor to hear.
There is no chocolate cake.
"Now hold on one second, little missy! Just for my favorite regulars, I might be able to offer a sampling at a bargain."
Ruggie feels his teeth pinching his lower lips.
"Shishishi~ That might be just what we're lookin' for, how about a buy-two get two, eh?"
It is difficult to imagine Jade as a father — says anyone who hasn’t ever spoken to a child.
Jade Leech is highly qualified, and here’s why.
Being a father requires responsibility. It demands empathy (we are stretching the definition here) while also maintaining an iron-clad-heart. Why? Because children are menaces on society. They only get worse with age until the creeping sense of existential dread peaks around 17. Then they get that final burst of cockiness to mask their insecurity. All to mellow out when their frontal lobes finally develop around age 24.
A stable parent needs to love them at all stages. A good parent wants to love them at all stages.
It’s not for the weak-minded. At least being the good parent isn’t. Those little shits will do everything in their power to manipulate if they’ve been coddled too much.
You need to walk that fine line and do it well.
No. No no. You gotta be smooth. You need to do them worse, while also only messing them up maybe 20%. Walk that fine line. Parents get that much wiggle room for error. It’s their first time living too (and every family needs at least two good horror stories to laugh at).
Jade Leech is up for that challenge. In fact? He thrives on it. Raising a child is just like caring for any other ‘specimen’ - except, well, they talk back. They talk back and they mimic and they’re the most entertaining people to talk to if you sit down and actually listen to them. They’re hilarious because they’re always changing.
Jade Leech is an excellent father. He exceeds the standard. There’s not a single shred of doubt in his mind that his child won’t make his life better to live. He might tease or give an ambiguous response if asked - but that’s just his nature. Read between the lines.
Babies? Need constant care. A bit potato-like, but they look at the world so inquisitively. People also are faster to forgive and shmooze when you have one. Not that Jade would know anything about that… (*cough* Azul asking to babysit, but it’s just him using the baby as an empathy card during negotiations. Jade allows it and you have no idea. At least until little Leech gets her sharp mouth and can’t be bribed with candy *cough*)
Toddlers? Beasts. They’re growing into their features. You can start to see the resemblance to their parents. They touch everything, don’t really know self-control, and gods their vocal cords can make a weapon. Jade once locked his brother in a room with his daughter. Age 3. Who was just scolded for drawing on the wall. She cried (screamed at glass shattering frequency). Floyd smashed his head between the couch cushions. Possibly bit through one of the cushion covers.
Floyd the pulled out a forgotten marker from between the seats. They both left a mess on the floor by the time Jade came back. Needless to say - they are of the same blood, and she is very much an uncle’s girl. She grows up with the effortless ability to manipulate him, and Floyd lets it happen.
Children? Children talk. They’re testing their boundaries. Leech spawn in particular just don’t have a filter. At all. Jade attends all parent-teacher conferences solo. Mainly because he’s the one teaching his daughter to be blunt and seek ‘fun’ with her classmates. You don’t ask so long as the report card comes clean.
Teenagers? Ah. Well - he’ll pass. College professors can handle the rough end of what his parenting techniques have yielded. He greatly enjoys her visits home though. Even more when she brings (forces) friends along. Especially if they’re related to some long-lost connections.
For the sake of time - the point has been made. Children are a novelty, and Jade is perfectly invested. Not to say that he views his daughter as a source of amusement alone. Jade simply loves the unpredictability that comes with having a child. It makes the heart fonder.
Even her birth was not one Jade could ever conceive or predict. Half human, half moray - it shouldn’t be possible. Yet he was more than willing to test the bounds of science and try until successful. Although he does is best to avoid complications that could endanger you or the child.
It is very fortunate that his daughter is born human. No need to fight ofd any siblings after ‘hatching,’ since you could only carry one (or a few, but sadly the ultrasounds showed none of that) at a time. The battle for dominance is something integral to the Leech nature…but alas, she can just fight her cousins or peers.
Although her legs are where the only differences lie - and even then, she has an endless supply of transfiguration potions at her disposal. The ocean is to her as the surface world was to Jade. A novelty.
She becomes obsessed with marine life, just as he is with foraging. There isn’t a stripe of ocean unexplored, with every spare moment spent exploring underwater biomes and mapping the different flora and fauna found.
Tormenting Uncle Azul at his office is also her routine pit-stop. That poor mer just can’t escape the Leech women. He shouldn’t have requested her so much when she was a baby. Now it’s like having a miniature-Georgina looming next his desk when all he wants is quiet. He respects, but is afraid. You end up in his office at least twice a week.
Although for all she mimics? All she stands for? All Jade raised her to be?
There is no one his daughter loves to test more, than her father himself.
“Jade! Have you seen my cauldron’s lid? It was hanging off the side - hook, but now it’s gone?”
Said man’s eye-twitched. Subtle enough that only he could feel it. His reflection stared back at him through pristine, clear glass and perfectly neutral.
Instead of this child’s first word being ‘daddy’ or ‘papa’ - she seemed to taunt him from even then. Her first word being ‘Jade’ instead.
Very few things miff him, but that? It was funny the first time. Now it’s a weapon to get footing over him. She wielded it every chance she got. The opportunist.
Can’t be mad at her for using one of the few weapons she has. He taught her well. Just not well enough to win against him.
Not yet, at least.
He sets it down the latest addition to his terrarium display with a soft hum. Thought passing his features, but not a single one regarding his daughter’s alchemy gear.
“What makes you certain that I know where it is?” He asks dismissively.
“Because you’re that petty.”
Jade huffs, teeth splitting a taunting grin. Not even bothering to hide it.
“That’s hardly any evidence. Surely you’ve just misplaced it in prepping for your trip. You can’t blame your parents for every misstep on your part.”
The passive slight irked right under the outer layer if that thick skin. He snickered into his palm.
Three days prior hosted a slight argument. Jade warned against his daughter’s excessive use of transfiguration potions time and time again. Not in lue of any terrible side effects, but because her excessive excursions were beginning to toll on her studies. Which wouldn’t matter to him personally - except that she’d been aiming for a position within a top undersea archaeology program.
Also - she was lingering near the depths far too often. He couldn’t care less about the merfolk swept below by harsh tide. In fact - Jade’s been curious to see the remains below himself.
She’s thinking similar - and unfortunately Jade is just not willing to let his blood run dry to stupidity. They’ve already Floyd for that.
“Mother knows not to touch my equipment. I have not misplaced a piece since I was still below your knee. Soft evidence is enough to point towards the culprit - you, Jade.”
His eyelid twitched . Again.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean,” he holds the line, “but surely one so smart could find her missing equipment? One who knows everything surely doesn’t need help.”
Her brows drop, two golden hues light dangerously. Spending too much time with her uncle, it seems.
“If only Grandmother knew what type of father you turned out to be. So unsupportive. A thief too.”
“Oh - so I’m your father now? I thought I was Jade.”
The war wasn’t over. Far from, when her composure only cracked just enough for him to slip in.
“Fine,” her tone dropped, “I’ll ask mother. If I can’t craft my potions at home, then there is an open lab at school. I’ll postpone to help mother with dinner - daikons were on sale when I last checked the paper.”
She paused in the doorframe.
“Might be a nice change from our usual menu.”
And left with a mute farewell.
Jade polished off the last of his work, once again enduring that simmering mixture of annoyance and amusement which kept his life from growing too dull.
Such an empty threat. He taught her better.
Jade kicks under his workbench to check that the lid is still tucked under ‘work-only’ documents. The ones she’d snooped once and caught the blunt end of walking in on the wrong scene. Fufu. Curious until faulted.
Eventually she will get impatient and try to slip in his office. The battle won, a war waged. You wouldn’t mind if he set a few leads? For a goose chase long enough that she *might* consider a truce?
The desired ending, of course.
As Jade prepares to clue you in, ideas bouncing off each other - he thinks about how much he’ll miss this once his little Leech becomes the academy’s scholar (menace).
Ah. He’s already looking forward to her return home. They should truly name him ‘Jade’ of the year.
Note: Daikon is an ipecac for eels, along with other water-based vegetables.
Fatherhood comes easily to Jamil. He might just be one of the most prepared of the bunch. It was only a matter of time, after all. There are steps in life that people loosely follow. He hadn't quite pictured himself as a family man, but wasn't against the idea. Children were expected of him, oddly enough. It's just not as apparent as say Kalim, since he is the eldest Viper but not inheriting a title like Sutan. He still carries a house name.
Jamil willingly offered to share his life with you. When he did this, Jamil made peace with himself that his life will forever be split amongst many. Except he is choosing who, in this regard. His calmness is intoxicating, truly. Overwhelming even.
There is anxiety. There is always anxiety. To be a Viper is something he has lived to despise. The thought of his child being forced to serve one of Kalim's? Just as he did? To have relationships and friendship tainted? One of his greatest concerns, one he plans ahead for. He does not hope for full freedom, but that Kalim has taken something. Anything. From their growth, and will at the very least treat his child well.
For his idiocy, Jamil knows the new Asim head is not malicious. He can work with the situation.
A situation that is part of life. Hardship is part of life. His child will understand this, but not from an early age. Jamil is strict yet doting in his own way. He will spare them as much as he can, unlike his parents did for him. He will protect them. Nurture them. Place them first on all accounts and prepare them to be self-sufficient...but not divided from their parents. Their family.
His child will be exactly like him, and he will not be surprised. Since there is no other way to be as a Viper. Except he will make an effort not to pass on his dark humor. It will fail, since he can't help but let his true feelings slip. You've softened him too much unfortunately.
He will protect you as well. There is no need to fear during pregnancy. Cravings? He makes everything from scratch. Exercise? Light strolls every evening. Pain? He gives great massages.
Jamil has your hospital bag packed two months in advance. He has everything under control. His control. He is very anxious. Let him built the nursery. As much as he complains that he doesn't get to relax, he physically doesn't know how to so just let him have an outlet.
The moment his eldest son is born - with wisps of dark hair atop his head, sandy skin, and a cry that was much too quiet. Nothing to be alarmed of, but almost like he wasn't bothered being pulled free from his nine-month prison. Coming into the world knowing that many people were waiting for him. His first and possibly only time in the spotlight.
When Jamil held him in a firm hold on that first night in the hospital, just as the book said to - and his eyes opened to show deep grey. Jamil's own reflection in them, the sight drowning out everything else. He too, was quiet.
The beeping heart monitor.
Your soft snores, utterly exhausted and vulnerable.
The obscene amount of flowers and presents crowding the room.
A music box, wound up half-way with a Briar lullaby meant to sooth the baby. It did a job well done.
Even the personal nurse just outside the door, who insisted on coming in every hour. He told her there was no need, that he had it covered, but no one could refuse a request of house Asim.
It all feel quiet.
"You're a small thing," Jamil muttered, shuffling the baby to one arm, "sorry for the loud environment. I doubt you were expecting any of this."
His son said nothing, merely reaching out for his braids with his little arms. Jamil winced and pulled one from him.
"I must be mad, talking to a baby...ugh, not a word about this. I'm not crazy."
He cringed at himself for that one. As if normal people are up at three-am talking to their baby like its a retail worker. Despite the source of his anxiety being mostly quelled - it wasn't.
Jamil sighed deeply, sparing you a look. Careful not to wake you despite his own unwinding.
"Ouch!"
His head tips down when his son grips another one of his braids, and scowls.
"Not even a day and you're already causing me trouble," he huffs, and this time pulls all his braids back over his shoulder.
His son squirms, but doesn't cry.
"...now don't look at me like that. You can grow some of your own," he brushes his thumb over the baby's wisps, "in a decade or two, maybe."
This time his son garbles something, and Jamil takes it as a mutual agreement. He huff an airy laugh, scrunching his nose up and settles back into the uncomfortable hospital chair in the corner.
It isn't quiet anymore. The heart monitor reminds him that you're there, and the nurse would come in again soon. The bundle in his arms is warm, somehow he'd begun to internalize the jokes about his spawn being cold blooded. Even if it was physically impossible, he was grateful for this warmth.
It's odd, the effect looking into those little eyes has on him. You once told Jamil that his calm was infectious, with or without his magic. His eyes could sooth storms.
He's never looked into them himself, so he couldn't confirm.
Yet the adrenaline in his veins faded, the noises all soothed rather than spiked his pulse, and the little eyes looking at him made the night pass blissfully. Even when the nurse came, Jamil didn't push her out. With his son back in his bassinette and the first rays of sunlight coming in, Jamil could finally relax.
Actual 'Father of the Year'. There is a trophy on display that his daughter made out of an old candleholder, the narrow nozzle from their vacuum, wood chips, and plenty of glitter glue. Made just for Rook when he stopped another kid on a sled from taking a one-way trip down a frigid pond. Child and guardian thanked his quick reflexes - but he said to thank him by continuing to enjoy the snow. Just somewhere safer.
His daughter (who was but a toddler waiting patiently for him to push her own sled around) saw the whole thing, and decided right then and there that she was a papa's girl. Rook was her hero and she wanted to be exactly like him when she grew up.
Rook was moved to tears. Even when you needed that nozzle to clean under the couch, he wouldn't part with it. That trophy sits proud on his nightstand until the day he dies. It's in the will that he's buried with it too.
He'd spend eternity with all things he finds beautiful, in truth. All your family albums (there are many), his 'passions' (At least lay him with his autographed DvDs), and a smile on his face.
As Rook lives his life appreciating the world for what it is. Unfiltered. He finds beauty even in its frightening, yet merciful end. Something most people struggle to see throughout the course of life.
Yet for a man who can see all? Who can find the worthwhile parts of every person?
He never once struggled to find the beauty in his daughter. His little creampuff. "Ma petite choue".
With her ability to sparkle under any light. Sweet, always changing, always recognizable even as her appearance changes with her growth, and undeniably a 'fan favorite'. He'll always be her #1 supporter, and loves her with as much passion as his mortal body can muster times infinity. For a man who keeps his affairs away from prying eyes, Rook shows no mercy when his daughter is brought into a conversation.
He will talk to anyone who will hear. Rave about the adorable, angelic squeak she let out that morning while they walked together under flush trees and honeybees buzzing in tune with their steps.
Meanwhile the baby merely burped from too much milk.
Or how she once decided to have an impromptu fashion show in his closet, and he couldn't bare to wear his own clothes after seeing her model them with the form of a professional.
Meanwhile she just got into his things, and decided his huntsman hat would be the perfect thing to steal (and would not return it).
Beware when he pulls out his pocketbook. There are around 32 polaroid's stuffed inside. An even distribution between his dear girls, and his idols. Your wedding photo is also on quick call, but no one knows where he whips that one out from. Best guess is it's stuffed in his coat...but it's a 12 X 12 photo and there are no crease lines in sight.
Yes. Rook, purveyor of genuinely and seeker of novelty, is the doting father and husband his reputation supports. Therefore it is only natural that he raises his daughter to appreciate all life, to be a free soul, and to cherish her loved ones just as much as he.
-
Two sets of footprints leave tracks deep in a woodland grove, far off in the nether end of the Shaftlands where naught a soul who spoke common tongue resided for miles. With pines as tall as giants that were coated with nature's bounty whipped ice, and the more perilous of beastly inhabitants hibernating until the groundhog dubbed it spring again.
Two souls bound by blood and faint traces of magic. One elder and one on the beginning threads of mastering the craft. Huntsmen to the naked eye, but sharing their game for the art of sport and survival rather than sullying their bonds with anything other than friendly father-daughter competition. Bows light on their backs and matching quivers strapped tight.
Their song rings as snow falls, as their tracks are covered by the bound elder buck being pulled towards wherever their destination lies. Voices similar in spirit and soul, both enemy and friend to nature alike.
~♫"Heigh-ho, heigh-ho -" ♫~
~♫" - it's home from work work we go"♫~
~♫"Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, heigh-ho, heigh-ho"♫~
~♫"Heigh-ho - " ♫~
"Papa?" Rook's petite choue cut through their shared ballad. Her tone none the less airy and whimsical as her father's, but heart no longer in song.
She heaves her half of the buck with one arm, stuttering the animal in snow so she might wipe the cold from her rosing nose. Any brighter and he might just have to fight Jack Frost himself for her.
Oh, the tragedy.
"Oui? What perils your thoughts and our duet?" he asks. She sneezes.
Oh, what dire tragedy. A battle on the horizon but with his beloved wife instead, should they both catch ill out in these wilds.
"Why do we always sing when out for game?"
It is true that Rook poses favorites, but they are favored for a reason! Such spectacular music in association with marvelous memories of his youth. It's only for good that they enjoy it habitually.
What's more, "Do you no longer desire to serenade the trees? This was your favorite tune as a little baby. Oh, how you'd babble when I would play it on loop and - "
"And you knew I was singing along. I've heard the stories, Papa, " she briefs in, although it's merely that teenage rebellion. Oh the trials of youth.
Rook mimes a wounded heart, his end of the buck no struggle to pull with just one arm. She might as well have struck him with one of his very own arrows.
“Ah! My stories are no longer of interest to my baby! What’s next, will you say that I have no wisdom left to impart? That you will leave me to weep in your mother’s embrace as you abandon us both for better parents.”
Rook’s words were as genuine as they were dramatic. Although her sweet laughter soothed both the whistling winds and his pride. The huntsman tipped his hat against the winds, as did she in sync.
“Your stories are always a joy to hear, but I was thinking,” she ponders, as if already sure of the next question, “…maybe, we could try something new?”
“Something new?” He muses, and the idea is fond.
“Yes. Not that I don’t love Neige or Uncle Vil’s music like you. Their charm plays a core part in my childhood and I associate their songs with nothing but the sweetest dreams….however….”
She gauges Rook’s reaction and slows her words. It’s amazing to see what others must when he is on the observer’s side. There is nostalgic in how his daughter’s deep emeralds seem to disappear under the hoods of her eyes. The shadow cast from the sun on her hat shrouds the dozens if freckles scattered across her cheeks, nose, and down into the depth of her wool scarf. Wrapped tight by her mother just short of when they left that noon. accompanied by wishes for a well hunt for them both.
Rook can tell the exact moment in which she began to look for his tells. The question stands if she has ‘found’ them or not - if he should have them.
“Which means that you’ve already found an alternative, no?” He tests, and grins all the same.
And in a split moment, she brightens.
“Oui, Papa,” with a flash of gusto and brevity - she produces her phone from ‘nowhere’. He caught the movement, but doesn’t out her hiding spots so she doesn’t out his.
His wife still couldn’t manage to figure out his movements, after all. He’d hate to lose the fun with both girls.
“Oh la la ~ You even came prepared ! Oh, how happy I am that my daughter wishes to share her passions with me. What a wonderful moment this is -“
“Papa. I love you too, but can we?”
She sticks one of the earbuds in her ear, and unravels the chord to hand him the other. He barely falters before responding in kind. Her excitement gives by the slight tremble in her hands, quick to bite off one of her gloves with the device stuck in her scarf’s nook. She grabs it, and searches for the already-prepared playlist without spitting the glove from her teeth.
Rook can only wonder what music has sparked her heart aflame in such a way. He’s long yearned for her to find a spark like he found in his passions, his love, his family -
‘Hello Everyone! Thank you for tuning in for today’s episode of ‘Early Automata’. Where we discuss the ins and outs of restoring retro mechanica and clockwork figures. Remember to subscribe for more content and let’s get into this historical dive -‘
Ah.
There is a moment where Rook’s joints seize all at once. He opens his mouth with questions hanging. Endless curiosity on where this interest stems from. Wondering where she could have possibly gathered such knowledge, from whom, for how long she’s held this passion.
Or if this was a practical joke.
He tunes in right then, unknown tells possibly showing if only she cared enough to look. There shines her mother’s habit of daydreaming, he notes
Rook’s daughter hums once or twice while stuck in her own little world, heaving their hunt without a hitch as they listened.
Together.
As they walked, she’d occasionally break out from her focus with the most elaborately nerdy ‘did you know -‘ that would only seem to branch into another segment, and then another. Even as her mouth dried from cold, she’d answer any question he asked with passion.
It was then that he realized that she’d become more like him than his petit choue possibly realized. He was ecstatic! To listen, to talk, to learn -
Rook could confidently say that he knew next to nothing about his daughter, and mean it in the most wonderfully adoring way.
It is official. The Vanrouge bloodline is cursed to only yield sons.
Correction.
It seems Lilia is destined to be a boy-dad. In blood, in guardianship, in kin and through unconditional love. The world sends him yet another little warrior in the making. Although this is the first of his own 'making,' so to speak.
Lilia never thought he'd change another dirty diaper in his lifetime. Never pictured dusting off Silver's old cradle and giving it a fresh coat of paint. Never thought he'd cut fruits into little bite sized pieces, watch little fingers graze them just to throw most back in Lilia's face. Maybe eat three of four.
Above all else - Lilia never thought he'd do it again with you. Someone to love and welcome new life alongside. Not that his family is incomplete. Perish the thought.
All his young ones carry a piece of him, but you? My dear, you compliment him. Make his final one-hundred years novel. You share in him, and that is a different kind of love. One just as valuable.
Lilia raises his blood-kin no different than he did Silver. He guards him no different than he did Malleus. He humors the boy, guides him, no different he did Sebek. Loves him no different.
Although the experience is altered in ways that attest to Lilia's long-lived life. He is no longer a single-father figuring out how to care for a baby as the hurdles come. The nights are no more easier, settling a child's cries. The pressure no less daunting.
But oh - how the bounties of his long-lived life all bloom around his child. A little bat-fae, one a half-breed no less. Had he any picture of himself as a baby, Lilia is certain the resemblance would have you sulking in a corner. Your genes stood no chance.
Nonetheless - this babe is one of the most beloved fae children in all the lands. This little thing is a testament to all the change he has bore witness to across seven-hundred years.
Lilia wouldn't call his life unfortunate, but the rose-colored glass over his childhood was nonexistent. Groomed into a hardened solider, his status constantly hung over his head. His purpose as a pawn in the Council's grand design. A lesser life forfeited to the tides of war, not that he cared. He fought for Melanore, and he'd have died back then without hesitation.
For a time - he held that belief strongly. If he could somehow secure Silver a loving home, he'd go back and die so Malleus could have his mother. So he could save his best friend. So that the world could have a chance to be whole and his 'purpose' fulfilled.
He is older. Wiser. His purpose was not to be a weapon. His death might have changed his sons' lives, but there is no telling if it would be for the better. He is their father. No matter what time or law say - Lilia cannot imagine them being anything else but who they are.
Perfect.
Just as his life is now. With you. Full. This child never would have been born, and from his first cry Lilia could never imagine such a thing.
-
"Mah, Mah - just hold still another moment. Otherwise I might just nick your ears, and we wouldn't want that. Right?"
Steel scissors round the curve of one dully pointed ear. Lilia snipped at the air a few times, hovering over the boy's head with a steady aim targeting any frizzed fly-aways.
Not that he would ever actually clip his son's skin. Although even the most skilled barbers could draw blood if their client jolts. it just so happens that Vanrouge blood breeds the most energetic children.
"Hurry Dad! I hear the carriage outside!"
His son just so happened to be the extra feisty sort. At least for now. The boy had a habit of getting spurts of energy, where he couldn't be tamed to sleep no matter what. Flying to high points, sneaking out past bedtime, scarfing his meals and finishing al his chores at a record-breaking pace. Then he'd switch to an old-man inhabiting a child's body. Listening to radio shows, sleeping half the day away, watching the bugs outside and barreling through all the books Sebek sends from the castle.
Lilia clicked his tongue, and cast a quick holding spell on the boy. Surely you wouldn't mind.
"Calm down now," the elder bat clicked his tongue and stepped in his view. Magenta reflects magenta - one pair of eyes aged with time and starting to wrinkle after hundreds of years. The other pair bright, young, and who knows what they'd see in the next century. Lilia pulled framing pieces forward, their sleek texture akin to his own as he trimmed fresh bangs.
"Please! They're going to forget me!"
"Forget you? They're too unfortunate for that." Lilia snickered.
"Father!" little fangs flashed with desperation.
The boy might be in his image, but Lilia can't recall ever raising such impatience.
That’s a lie. He is fully responsible for this kid’s big mouth. He’ll blame it on you though.
"Annnnnnnd - done!" Lilia smirks, sets the scissors far from reach, and snaps his fingers.
The holding spell yields, and so does the chair. It wobbles dangerously when his son zips off, his short legs propelling him out the kitchen and front door.
"Finally!! Mama! Wait for me, khehe!"
You, who this child was so desperate to see.
Lilia might not remember his own birthday, but he knows his children's by heart. His youngest turns seven in one day, and you'd been gone on work to Briar Palace. He was in grandpa-mode the night you left, and preferred to stay home in a quiet farmstead with his father. Listening to Lilia's war stories before bed with those attentive ears, possibly burning down the kitchen (and fixing it before you come home), and keeping away responsibility. Knowing full well that if he went with, then his brother and uncle would insist on checking his studies and swordsmanship.
He said he wanted time with 'papa' - but everyone knows this little bat would say anything to avoid the 'knight's responsibility' speech. Sebek might have to give up on training the next generation. At least another Vanrouge.
His mood altered during your stay. Now he wants nothing more than to be at the palace, admiring the darker corners and flying his way through the knight barracks until those soldiers get their cardio trying to catch him. All until he calms down once again, to stroll the halls and beg to see one of the plays or concerts in town. He gained Lilia's ear for storytelling, with a strong love for music as well.
Lilia sighed to himself. Keen hearing picks up on four voices. You, who strain to get in the house. Likely to make sure your kitchen was still in tact. He snickers, already planning to sneak a kiss once you make it in.
Silver, the first to greet with warmth and to check the house for any weathering from nature or it's inhabitants.
Sebek, who's volume scared nature away. Lilia hears him offer a new training sword to his little bat. He hasn't the heart to say that they're all collecting dust.
Malleus, who definitely shouldn't be taking an entire day out of the Palace. Lilia knows that both boys are being spoiled. His little bat - definitely not ignorant to a king's work but still wanting his time anyway. Malleus, more than ready to delegate responsibilities to play.
This quiet, humble cottage is now full of chatter. Warmth.
That's what had his little bat riled up so much, after all. Off to see his favorite play, anxiously waiting for his mother and family to come. Lilia would be lying if his heart wasn't excited for the same thing.
"Honey? I'm home - "
Footsteps near the kitchen, and he's quick to hover atop the doorframe. Still quick for his age.
He grins when you walk through, his four protege's on your tail like little ducklings. The tiniest one catches his eye and he mimes for his silence. Little fangs poke out, mirroring Lilia's playful grin.
Lilia swoops down to kiss your cheek.
"Welcome home~ Are we all ready to see this play? It's a classic - I would know, being there for the real thing, Khehehe!"
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Since Christmas doesn’t exist in Twisted Wonderland, Yuu should make ‘baby’s first christmas’ handprint ornaments for all the dudes in the new event and not tell them that they’re meant for actual babies
oooh your twst kiddos are nice!! do you have any headcanons on their relation with their respective yuu/mother?? would they ever want to meet their maternal grandparents (apart from clara who already wants to go to her mom's world ofc)? 👀
Hi! I'd say the mother-child relationship depends on the kid...so far I've only written for the vices/dormheads and only drawn a handful of the kids?
You've all met Rori, Clara, Khalid, Beatrice, Virche, Alma, and Anton in full. Out of them? Clara and Virche are likely the most in tune with their mom.
Clara because of being raised at STYX + her mom being the main one for emotional care (IK parenting is 50/50 but Idia's definitely the type to defer a lot). Her mom's not as in tune with what she does as Idia is, and she's the hard-ass. Thing is? She's who Clara counts on the most.
Virche because he's raised as a human, and Azul's a bit too cut-throat for someone with his empathy level. Virche is 100% a mother's boy since she's who he clung to for the most of his childhood. She taught him how to see other people, and always encouraged him to look into his heritage. Azul already knew everything about the sea, so Virche liked how interested his mom became when he'd ask for books, build aquariums, etc. He also knows how risky it was for him to be born and greatly appreciates her for keeping him.
Rori respects her mother and sees her as a role-model. She's more of a dad's girl, but Sunset Savannah's definitely matriarchal. She definitely butts heads the most out of the currently fleshed out kids though.
Beatrice is close with her mother, but doesn't really have a favorite? She dislikes when Riddle gets a bit too strict + who he becomes when her paternal grandparents are around. Her mom's a good match for him in her eyes. She appreciates all her mom does to give herself and her siblings independence.
Alma's also another one on the 50/50. She takes after Vil's ambition etc. but it's not like she spent more time with her mother than she did him. Not enough for her to pick a favorite. She does have a slightly skewed relationship...because to Vil she is also his protege. The granddaughter of Eric Schoenheit and daughter of Vil Schoenheit. With her mom? Well, Alma's just her daughter. All she has to be is her daughter and that's nice.
Khalid values family above all else. One thing he never doubts growing up is that Kalim loves his mom, and his mom loves their entire family to pieces. He definitely prefers her more as a child, but as he grows he loves both parents equally. Will still always side with her since she is the reason Kalim doesn't go off the handle too often. The woman needs a breather with 5 kids and hundreds of people nagging her on his father's side.
Anton's his father's son through and through. Which means he respects his mother, because she's a good woman who balances his father well. His mother acted as 'devil's advocate' in a way, making sure that while Jamil prepared Anton for the worst? He was also prepared for the best too. He speaks a prayer for her to stay exactly as she is every morning, and for Jamil to shave the damn goatee.
I would say that every kid wants to meet their maternal grandparents to some extent. They're from another world, who wouldn't? I think digesting that their mom is an alien would be something to learn a bit later on though. Some might say they don't care because it's impossible to do (Alma, Khalid, Anton, Rori, etc) while others might ask questions (Beatrice, Clara, Virche, etc)
-
All in all? Mom's meant to be Yuu so I try to keep it ambiguous. I imagine in the AU that Yuu goes with whoever ya want, and then all the other kids just...idk. Spawn. I'm trying to make them as close to Dad as I can, while mixing it up a bit in my head by using a mom that I think has a personality the guys would go for.
Like...I think Azul would fall for someone a bit dopey/overly empathetic. In the annoying way that looks easy to use but can actually get under your skin with their words. He has a bit of a power complex so being with someone like a 'jellyfish' fits. Someone constantly challenging him work-wise or too abrasive makes a good business partner...but bro has trust/self esteem issues so someone he can shelter a bit fits his bill. This is why Virche is the way he is lol.
If anyone remembers? I've been drawing the children from my TWST Kiddoverse...and I finished some of their designs and backstories hehe.
Based on the 'YOUARELIKEPAPA' series: Here
(Note: I'm kinda using this as a chance to learn composition a bit...so they're all kinda different. The most recent one is Kalim's son (Khalid) and the fist one I did was Vil's daughter (Alma))
A bit about Alma:
Alma was a 'road-trip' baby until she hit elementary school age. Vil knew that keeping her out of the public eye would be impossible so he chose to keep his family nearby as much as possible. Then - like a dedicated father - he settled down with his family in the Shaftlands and only took smaller roles until Alma was in her teens. His popularity never died out. If anything, the public adored his devotion to being a good father and husband.
As for Alma? She made a few cameos in films as a child actress. She even played Vil's child in a few roles (or his younger self) back when she was a baby. Needless to say that the audience adored that little face of hers.
Yessir - the Shoenheit legacy lives on. Alma grows up with her father's confidence and strict criteria for self accomplishment. Receiving an acceptance to Night Raven College was an expectation, not a hope. Although she doesn't spend her entire childhood working towards her career.
Alma lives one of the more 'normal' lives compared to the other children, which is odd considering a Shoenheit is anything BUT normal. Yet aside from the press, higher class living, and occasional press conference/gala/etc? Her life's one of peace and luxury. She has parents who love her and are openly affectionate. She's taught to keep a healthy diet but isn't deprived (Vil is NOT one of the dancemoms). All of her passions are encouraged so long as she gives her best effort (Schoenheits do not quit). She grows up with friends, hangs out at the mall, went to her middle-school dance that wasn't anything special, and only started to take her magic training seriously around her pre-teens.
Even her grandfather's not too 'sparkly' or as 'difficult' as one would expect. It's the grandpa effect. Eric's way more loose with his grandkids than he was with Vil. It helps that he's retired and just the papa they go to the cinema with every weekend.
She's the eldest of two with a younger brother, their age gap perfectly spaced to match Vil's hiatus (3 years apart), and had as structured a childhood as the tv sitcoms portrayed. The annual holiday tradition at the skii slopes, summer trips to the beach, making 'potions' out of grass and mud in the backyard, sewing her dolls dresses out of her old clothes. Her younger brother isn't a mage, but they were loved equally. Both grumbling together about their father's standards and fist fighting over who got the good tv before bed.
Make no mistake that she does not belong in the spotlight. Alma's like Hannah Montana. She's set to have the best of both worlds. Once she packed for Night Raven, Alma was set to start her path into stardom just like her father. She intends to make a name for herself by her fourth year in the cosmetics industry. Acting's not necessarily her speed, but modeling? She wants to design AND be the canvas. Hence her unique magic 'Perfection Comes In All Shapes And Sizes' which allows Alma to cast an illusion, allowing for her to 'customize' herself without the need to make anything ahead of time. It's perfect for playing dress up and experimenting with new fashion lines (before having prototypes made).
Other things to know about Alma:
Alma's roots are very obvious. She's a near photo-copy of Eric with her stronger//sharper features, but there's no mistake that she is Vil's daughter.
Vil had a 'perfect'' plan for raising Alma...which went right down the drain. He planned for her to be a prodigal child who would never so much as look at a bologna sandwich or utter a cuss word. She was going to be set up for success in every which way.
He learned very quickly that there would need to be compromise with her. It was a stroke of luck that he wanted to follow Eric's lifestyle - in a way? Vil had to learn while she was in elementary/middle school that kids are kids. She still took after him...just in her own way.
Alma and Vil have regular spa days while she is starting out in her career. Mainly where she complains and he wonders if they're going to be kicked out. He lets her though because life is just like that
While studying at Night Raven, Alma is especially close with Professor Crewel for the same reasons Vil was. She's always running outfit designs by Crewel and secretly idolizes him. His work is something she's followed since she was sewing those doll dresses
Crewel knows she idolizes him but doesn't say anything.
Alma is in Pomefiore, as expected. She is Housewarden, as expected. She is not as strict about the concept of beauty as Vil is. In fact, she often goes to other dorms searching for 'inspiration'. She wants to design new dorm uniforms that can be modified to the wearer. Since every member deserves to express themselves.
Alma's hands are covered in needle pricks. She carries thimbles in her pockets (forgotten from when she used them)
Alma LOVES catering to the witch stereotype. The big hats from the summoning uniforms made her squeal
Her best class is poison making for obvious reasons. She had the best tutor her entire childhood after all.
She hasn't cut her hair since her single-digits. If anyone asks the secret, she recommends her father's products. Although all the fun styles she tries are thanks to her own creativity and UM
She hates steamed chicken and anything unseasoned. You do not need to have plain food to hold a lean figure. Diet culture mad pisses her off.
She WILL go to town on a whole lobster though. Is it unladylike to enjoy a meal so thoroughly? The press can have as close a look as they want. She will gladly rip the claw apart and dangle the meat for the camera like a prize one. Then dip it in butter and float to the heavens
Alma opens the show choir club just so she can use other students as mannequins. She can sing, dance, do it all etc. Her voice is more of a lower Alto and great for soothing migraines...but she prefers to direct, stage, and style
Statistics
Age: 18
Best Subject: Potion Making
Birthday: July 21st
Height: 5ft 9
Hobby: Cosmetology // Modeling
Likes: Lobster, Potato Bisque, Unique Cosmetics
Dislikes: Steamed Chicken
Club: Show Choir
Talent: Critical sense of smell. Can tell the components of potions, perfumes, etc. with one sniff.
UM: "Perfection Comes in All Shapes and Sizes. Voila!" : Allows for ones outer beauty to reflect an audience's perception. The spell is an illusion, allowing Alma to change her hair, clothes, complexion, eye color, etc. (anything cosmetic) to match a given description. Should she develop it further, the spell may one day be used on others.
A bit about Anton:
Anton Viper is the epitome of spiritual peace. His lore is inspired by the founding beliefs of Buddhism, actually. He lives with a disciplined mind an character - holding true to the 5 core Buddhist beliefs (no killing, no stealing, no lying, no sexual misconduct, and no intoxicants). Buddhism doesn't exist in TWST, but Anton was raised with attentive parents who encouraged him early on to find balance in a life that would be otherwise unjust.
Just like his father, Anton is born with the expectation to age alongside the Asim's eldest - Khalid. Except his services are unneeded due to Khalid's independent and stubborn nature. Thus the two grow up as good friends with the hanging power-imbalance quite literally brushed onto the back burner. Khalid's competence is to thank for this, making the needed arrangements so that if an incident occurs then Anton is spared any blame.
Anton is deeply devoted to his spiritual and academic studies. He consistently places at the top of his class while also being known for his acts of service in the community. He is Khalid's attendant in name, but other than basic aid he is left with much free time. Anton devotes this time towards productive behaviors.
His unique magic develops naturally over time - so seamless that he barely realizes it is there. His magic "Weight of Memory" - shackles an individual to the gravity of their choices. It reflects his belief that the spirit is separate from the body, and that one's actions are what cultivate regret rather than the hand they are dealt by the world. As Anton is against acts of aggression, his magic allows him to immobilize attackers and identify threats. Should a soul be worth peace, they will be light as a feather and free to speak. Should their heart be tainted by misdeed/malice, then they will cripple under the weight of their transgressions.
A large factor that pushes Anton to maintain peace over all is the very reason his father learned to walk among the shadows. While he was shielded from being boxed, Anton witnesses the treatment his father receives from his grandparents. He hears stories from his aunt and mother after some prodding. Anton wishes to prove to his father that one can hold the spite of fate and morph it into something greater.
Other things to know about Anton:
Anton waits one year to enroll in NRC despite receiving an acceptance so that he and Khalid can be in the same year.
Anton is always the first one awake and the last to sleep in his dorm. He gets up before sunrise, and can be spotted meditating in the open pavilion/lounge long before any other student rolls in half-awake.
On that note, Anton only needs 5 hours of sleep to feel well-rested. He takes one 30 minute nap in place of lunch.
Anton handles the majority of cooking for banquets, just as his father did when enrolled. He abstains from any extravagant foods but knows how to prepare them. Anton is also the go-to for manual labor within his dorm. He rarely says no to offering his assistance.
Anton only holds malice for those who carry it in turn. He is merciless beyond the bounds of his moral code, and should one sink into a crumpled mess when faced with his spell? He is not a martyr. Anton will walk away, his ire coming as abandonment rather than violence.
Anton has never used his UM on his father, mother, or any of his relatives. There are some questions even he does not want the answer to.
Anton dresses plainly. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from Khalid, until Anton began training while Khalid stuck to desk work...he keeps the bare basics. Anything new is typically a gift.
Anton prefers his dishes simple and made with whole ingredients. His favorite food is porridge/congee, prepared with colorful vegetables and eaten in solitude.
"Hair Holds Memory"
Anton dislikes being separated from Khalid, because he finds many students at NRC to carry 'heavy' souls. He enters Heartslabyul as he pleases despite dorm tensions. In his eyes, all souls are judged under the same criteria. He dislikes the dormitory wars.
Anton forages many of the edible plants used in Scarabia's kitchens during his hikes. He dislikes when picky eaters act as if the ingredients are not the same quality as those in the cafeteria.
Anton is afraid of planes. Very much afraid of planes. The sensation of blood being pushed down feels like his spirit is being destabilized. In truth, he hates the flying sardine cans and curses whoever invented the damn things.
Anton can meditate for 16 hours without a break. Possibly longer if he had the time.
Dislikes: Artificial Sweeteners, Protein Powder, Selfishness/Ego, People (-_-), Air Travel
Club: Track
Talent: Martial Arts
UM: "Balance is the Key to Everything // Weight of Memory " : Assigns physical weight to memories — burdensome ones make you sink, light ones lift you.
A bit about Clara:
Clara Shroud has a complicated relationship with her father. They don’t talk about the shroud curse or what it means. He’s always been there for her in every way except that. They bond over being geniuses, gaming, hobbies, etc etc - she could get anything she wanted from him as a little girl and there hasn’t ever been a time where she thought he didn’t ‘like’ her. They’re best friends discounting that she’s a demon spawn and his lack of discipline does have consequences.
Except there’s always that lingering thought, wondering if he truly ever wanted her. If he loves her because of who she is. Not because she is his daughter and he has to.
The rare times he does talk about their family or his emotions? It’s like he’s talking through her rather than at her. Then he shuts down and takes everything back - and as a kid she thought she could get that pessimism out of him? He had to love his hair because it was her hair. He had to love his teeth because they were her teeth too. He had to love his eyes because those were her eyes.
As a child she would tattle on him to her mother, thinking that if she did then he’d stop being so mean. Then maybe he’d love himself and think he’s super cool, like she did! Her mom always told her that she was perfect and that her dad was too. Then when Clara was a teen, mother would say that Idia was trying to kick old habits and that he loved Clara so much that it made his words come out wrong.
Idia also gets extremely defensive when people compare him to Clara. He stopped denying their similarities when he saw it was hurting her - even though it was painfully obvious that he didn’t want her to take after him. Except she did and she was proud of it. Even if his reaction was born from self hatred and desperately wanting better for Clara than what he could offer? It’s easy for a child to internalize that. Especially because Idia’s her idol.
Despite being emotionally estranged? Clara grows up with both parents present and she’s more of an isolationist by choice rather than out of self-doubt.
She does adopt a sense of recklessness though. One that puts her uncle on babysitting duty through the majority of her childhood. Ortho’s possibly the most doting of the family because hello??? She’s living proof of his brother and sister-in-law’s happiness? Proof that everything turned out okay despite Idia’s disbelief?
She doesn’t look for a cure to the Shroud curse or anything. If she spends her life at STYX then that’s what it’s going to be. At least she can invent other cool things.
So…yeah. Remember those consequences? From Idia acting more like a friend than a dad sometimes?
Yeah. So. The missing leg. Definitely the SECOND worst day of Idia’s life (right behind you-know-what). It’s very hard to enact strict security measures against a child that’s been able to decode and reconfigure clearance since she could touch a holograph panel. It’s why either her mother or Ortho would hover about all the time. Once she hit middle-school, Clara wanted her own access card to the labs and the ability to experiment at her will. Sometimes she just got a Zing and would want to keep going all night before the juices left.
Idia - considering he was a whiz at that age too - saw no problem with it. STYX isn’t like how it used to be. After what happened to Ortho and his OB? The chance of monsters getting out was near zilch. She’ll be fine, he said.
Except a child with no regard for her own personal safety, slight bpd, and access to high-grade dangerous materials is just a match made in heaven (said no one).
Keep it plain: She had an idea, the idea was explosive, the lab was destroyed at the ripe hour of 1:43am, her leg was crushed beyond repair and Idia heard her cries for help in his sleep for months. Ortho has the CCTV tape but Idia never wants to see it. Ever.
Clara doesn’t look at that night with discouragement though. If anything, she’d do it again. That was the night she developed her unique magic - “Bingo Bongo. Boom. Boom. Boom!” - which allows her to convert blot into explosives. She can pull from herself or other mages, making a quick way to suck blot from a mage teetering on the edge.
It was also the first time she ever saw her dad cry over something other than a good plot…and the first time she really felt like his daughter. He really ‘looked like a dad’ - because Idia was freaking out so bad that he might’ve chopped off his own leg right there if it kept her alive. Blubbering about how sorry he was for being a shitty father (she didn’t think he was). Absolutely inconsolable. Not by her grandparents, not by her mom, not by ortho - he wouldn’t touch a document, a game, a book, his phone - nothing.
Clara hated when her dad ripped himself apart the most, because it always made her feel like she should be doing the same … but she then realized what her mom was saying all along. Clara was the spitting image of her father, but he didn’t hate her. He loved her more than he hated himself, and the chance of hurting her scared him more than anything.
“Is there anything more undoing than a daughter” - Arcane, Silco.
Other things to know about Clara:
Girlie did NOT agree to attend Night Raven. She sent that invite back to the sender with a big fat 'NO' scratched on top in red letters. Her uncle Ortho intercepted the missive and sent out an acceptance in her stead. Thus, she woke up in a coffin with no idea where she was or how she got there. Clara jumped out screaming 'CULTCULTCULT' at the entrance ceremony....even though she 100% recognized the uniform. She was hoping they'd expel her. It did not work.
Like her father, Clara ends up housewarden because she doesn't want to answer to anyone. She also wants Ignihyde's lab unoccupied for 3 hours out of the day....for 'reasons'
Ortho Shroud re-enrolls at Night Raven college to watch over his niece. The school made an exception after she almost set the chemical lab into quarantine. He doesn't mind studying again, and reports regularly to her parents.
Idia develops ulcers while Clara attends Night Raven.
Clara's mother wrote the staff a formal apology letter and STYX funded replacements for all the heating lamps in NRC's cafeteria when requested. No questions asked. They don't want to know.
Clara is a certified magical mechanic in nearly every territory in twisted wonderland aside from the Sunset Savannah.
Clara can eat a large pack of string cheese in one sitting.
Clara likes space and wants to visit her mother's world - just so she can beat the scientists to Mars.
She sews a new pocket on her jumpsuit every week because she likes all her tools in arm's distance, and hates mixing screws together. There are pockets in pockets which are in pockets.
Clara is proof that karma exists and Idia accrued enough to create the devil
Clara loves steak. Well-done. She hates when people comment on it and will ask for ketchup to piss them off
Statistics:
Age: 17
Best Subject: Magical Mechanics
Birthday: October 13th (Friday specifically.)
Height: 5ft 7
Hobby: Fixing old sport cars // Racing
Likes: Ribeye Steak, Vintage Mecha, ‘Funny’ people / STYX residents, Gaming, Sharks, Space
Club: Mechanics (Her own club. Those 3hrs of unused lab time... open for members, but people are big scared. She'd welcome them if they could look under a car's hood and hold a light on the carburetor)
Talent: Giving Trein migraines and Roller Skating
UM: "Bingo Bongo - Boom Boom BOOM !!!" - Allows Clara to convert blot into explosives.
A bit about Rori:
Rori Kingscholar. Eldest of three with only one thing on her mind - to lead her country to victory. Nevermind that the Savannah is at peace with no need for war preparations in the foreseeable future. Rori is a girl who wants to be respected, and what guarantees respect within the Savannah? Strength. Most warriors of her homeland are women and she's grown with countless role models. He mother included. While not a Savannah native, Rori knows no other woman who her father respects more.
She does not like being defined by anything other than what she has earned. If one calls her a spoiled bitch, it better be from something she did and not because she's part of the royal family. The same goes for if someone shows her respect. Rori calls honeyed words out for what they are and has no patience for anyone using underhanded tactics to curry favor. Those people tend to carry a rotted scent, like bananas left to sit too long
From a young age, Rori found her place among the land and stone. She developed her unique magic as a toddler while playing in the trees and hiding from her tutors. Whatever she touches with her spell will turn to stone. Specifically granite. It's irreversible and there are no limitations.
Just like Leona, she was feared. Prejudice stuck to her like a leech and syphoned at her confidence. Especially when she heard insults spat at her parents. They said it was because she was 'her father's child' and mixed with magicless 'unfamiliar' blood. What stung worse was when they went for her siblings, wondering if they would be cursed children. Just like Rori and Leona.
The whispers never stopped as she grew older, but Rori learned to live with them. She was fortunate enough to have parents that spoke out on her behalf, a cousin as her 'rival/friend' who never seemed to go away, and siblings who didn't look at her differently. She took a sigh of relief when neither of them developed a similar spell...but they are still young so time can only tell.
Despite everything, Rori ages with a strong love for life. She gardens and takes the time to watch plants grow from her efforts. In a way, it's like proving those whispers wrong. She donates the gardens yields to impoverished communities. Her "uncle" Ruggie - while not working within the Palace like he did when she was little - does come to collect what she has from the palace gardens and takes it back to communities he knows might benefit. She ropes her siblings into it and they have their own greenhouse. It's not much, but helping one village once every so often is better than nothing
Rori's relationship with her family is solid. She values being a KingScholar, and intends to live up to the name. She was a hellish child and apparently caused Ki'faji more strife than her father ever did...but she is loved. By the King/Queen, by her parents, by her cousin and siblings....by the people. Rori KingScholar is a name known in the palace barracks as a woman of strength, aptitude, and brains. She truly is her father's daughter.
Other things to know about Rori:
Rori wants to be captain of the guard of Sunset Savannah's warriors.
Rori is envious and resentful of Cheka. She respects his energy and liberty, but hates how he knows just what to say to make her angry. Damn teenagers and their need to pick on little kids...the rivalry stays when she's a teen and he's in his mid-20s.
He's a graduate from Royal Sword when she enrolls in Night Raven...and the comments he makes when they're both on break feel too personal to be anything but condescending. For reference, Cheka is 7 years older than Rori (she is born 2 years after the current events of TWST).
"Healthy competition," her uncle says. "Rip him to shreds," her father says.
Rori's Liongarb mask was made to resemble Leona's. She became the reigning champion the first year she lead a group to compete, and looks forward to displaying her skill every year succeeding.
Rori has a weapon collection made of 'stone' improvisations. Rather than fear her magic, she began to control it in her teens. Her favorite addition is a spear with a stone head made from a dragon fruit.
Rori often plays chess with her father, her mentor, other guards, and essentially anyone who will join her for a game. She enjoys the tactical aspect and getting into 'her' warriors minds. It helps when she draws up mock battle tactics and arranging training regimens.
She is short for women in the Sunset Savannah, and is often underestimated for being a half-breed. If anything the smaller stature gives her an advantage. Her build is leaner than other warriors, and she still has the keen senses of a lioness.
Rori is very flexible and can dislocate some of her joints at will. It grosses Leona out immensely.
She enjoys vegetables after choking them down all her childhood to set a good example for her siblings.
Savanaclaw's dorm leader and for good reason. She did not challenge the current dorm head until the end of her freshman year. She spent time to learn her dorm mates, curry their favor, and display her strength. Then she took the title.
Rori also started a bit late, similar to her father. She felt hesitant to leave home and was secretly hoping that Royal Sword would send her a letter...but one look at her parents' old graduation photos was enough to give it a shot. Her mom and siblings promised to care for the garden. It would do.
Age: 19
Best Subject: Physical Education
Birthday: March 20th
Height: 5ft 5
Hobby: Gardening // Chess
Likes: Her cousin Cheka, Vegetarian Nachos, Pozole Rojo, Smell of Fertilizer
Dislikes: Being ignored, Her cousin Cheka (yes. again), dull weaponry
Club: Spell Drive
Talent: Tactics
UM: "One With The Stone" : Rori is capable of turning whatever she touches into stone. There is no limitation, and the effects are instantaneous.
A bit about Virche:
Virche's lore is inspired by melody from the Little Mermaid 2. Being a half-breed, Virche was kept from the sea for his safety. Mer/Human mixes are rare and Azul was not playing around. Despite Virche sharing physical traits with his dad's Mer-form (black speckles, pallid skin, etc.) - he is born with feet. Being a scientific enigma, there lied a possibility that he would grow into his mer-characteristics or change when exposed to sea water (like how the merfolk revert back after taking a transformation potion). Thus Virche was raised on land and only brought to the sea once to see if he would change.
He did not, and it was decided that Virche would change on land and not be allowed near the ocean despite being aware of his lineage. There are two reasons for this. 1) Virche has a weaker constitution, being born from a magicless human as a half-mer (going off the headcannon that merfolk are closer to fae than they are humans, and bestmen are closer to humans than they are fae. So some magic is needed to sustain a pregnancy). 2) Azul is afraid that Virche will not adjust well to sea life after living solely on land, and does not want him to be bullied.
Virche's unique magic is called "Play Pretend // Play Both Sides" - stemming from his split identity (an ode to children of mixed heritage). Virche sneaks to the sea when he is on a school field trip as a human. When he enters the water, his act of rebellion, he develops his unique magic (transmogrification) which is inspired by Ursula's ability to change her appearance. This magic allows for him to become an octo-mer without the use of a potion, and for as long as he would like. Should he choose to develop it further, Virche may one day be able to take the form of other creatures at will...but he must have a strong desire to do so.
Other things to know about Virche:
Soft personality. The exact opposite of Azul due to being protected as a child.
Weak constitution. Virche easily becomes sick and never misses a flu shot.
I read once that octopi turn white when critically injured, therefore I assume that Virche's black spots turn white/light grey when his health declines.
Virche wears circular glasses only in his human form
Virche has an obsession with the sea. Despite not being allowed to go, his parents let him explore the topic to his hearts content. He maintains aquariums in his spare time.
Virche has no interest in becoming housewarden. Ever. He has no intention of inheriting his father's 'empire' either, despite being an only child. He plans to move to Atlantica after graduation and wants to do his fourth-year internship at the Atlantica museum.
Virche loves his mother very much. His father...yes. He loves his father. There isn't a question in Virche's mind that his father loves him more than he ever vocalizes ... the over-protective behavior is a testament. He loves his father the most when Azul isn't in work-mode. He is mildly afraid of his leech uncles, and very afraid of his cousins. He shares a love for marine biology with Jade's daughter.
Possibly one of the kindest people at Night Raven. There is a lingering question amongst many as to how he was given an acceptance letter. Also how in the hell is he the spawn of Ashengrotto (other parents words)
Virche has a coin collection. Not because he likes coins, but because he is making an effort to relate to his father. It is a work in progress.
He collects seashells for himself and occasionally brings his mother the finds extra beautiful. His favorite is the classic conch.
Virche is good at singing. His preferred genre is jazz.
Virche believes in love at first sight.
Statistics:
Age: 17
Best Subject: Music
Birthday: August 21st
Height: 5ft 4
Hobby: Collecting Seashells
Likes: The sea, full-coverage clothing, sweet potato pie
Dislikes: debate, dry air (eczema), hospitals
Club: Archaeology Club
Talent: Tap Dancing
UM: "Let's Play Pretend" - Allows Virche to transmog into whatever species he pleases. Currently believe he can only become an octopus.
A bit about Khalid:
Khalid Al Asim - the man, they myth, the legend (I wrote all this once and tumblr deleted it...and I forgot what I wrote).
One thing to know about Khalid is that he is just as 'naïve' as Kalim was at his age. His perspective on the world is warped under the pretense that hard work will always yield results...and it causes him to intentionally push the grim realities of life under the proverbial rug. He thinks that if he works hard enough to prove himself, that he will be able to guide the Asims in a new direction within the Scalding Sands.
Khalid is the eldest of five children, which is the smallest family any head Asim has ever had. He is to be the next head and begins his studies at the age of fourteen. Even when his father encouraged Khalid to wait until after he graduated from school, he would not yield. Thus he studies business and commerce on the side throughout his teens. He leaves campus on the weekends to accompany his father at meetings and banquets. No one knows how he manages to balance it all. Beatrice always has an updated copy of Heartslabyul's ledger and notable changes to dorm propositions, etc. first thing every Monday morning. Normally it wouldn't be allowed for a student to leave campus so much...but he isn't against using his family's name to some extent.
In a way? Khalid is spoiled. He holds a bit of resentment towards Kalim's flippant attitude and is severely disappointed to find that Kalim is the same at work as he is with their family. He thinks that his father should express more self-control to preserve the Al Asim name and for their family's safety. Khalid finds it odd that Kalim is adamant that their family doesn't grow too big, because he's so doting it makes Khalid's teeth hurt. Considering that Khalid has over 30 aunts and uncles...he'd expect to have at least 10 younger siblings? Maybe they could divert some of Kalim's attention away...
But no. For a man who rarely offers no compromise, Kalim won't take a second wife and won't have any surrogates. Khalid once wondered if it's his reckless nature that makes him divert from tradition here...but no. Kalim doesn't want to spread his attention too thin and he wants his family to feel fully loved. Khalid has aunts and uncles who don't even know their grandfather beyond a name.
He doesn't know most of them either. Not for a lack of effort, but because they don't care. There are tensions...ones he was sheltered from. Khalid is very, very sheltered. He just doesn't realize it.
It's how he unlocked his UM "Do you have the time?" - the phrasing is so casual. Something that can be slipped into any conversation. The power allows Khalid to rewind time for 10 seconds and it comes with extreme costs. The spell uses a substantial amount of mana and accrues a week's worth of blot in one sitting.
You don't realize how valuable ten seconds can be. It's enough time to pause a poor business deal, enough time to prevent a kitchen fire, and the exact amount of time needed to stop a child from being swiped from the bustling market streets. For him to grip his little brother's hand tighter and pull him into a shop. For someone who made such a stink that having a bodyguard wasn't needed? That no commoner on the streets would be dumb enough to try?
It's the people you know. The man who sold you cut fruits last week...or the estranged cousin you'd met over dinner five weeks ago but luckily didn't forget the face.
Caring for his family one thing Kalim did right, and stands as a small wedge in Khalid's mindset for what paths he has available to single-handedly guide the Asims once he's older (...maybe his father CAN be relied on? Maybe. This issue really has a different answer by the week)
Other things to know about Khalid:
Heartslabyul's competent treasurer and Vice Housewarden. He is the only one to challenge Beatrice for her reign. With those two competing, no other student dares to step up to the plate. Especially because Khalid handles all of Heartslabyul's official affairs. He is the logical lead while Beatrice is the emotional. They have an enemies to lovers thing going on.
Khalid's design is a combination of his home's fashion and the color requirements of Heartslabyul. He is known for the long, burgundy trench coat that marks his position. Khalid wears his personalized dorm uniform at all times - because "you never know" - which is true. Important guests are always touring Night Raven's campus.
For his stickler personality, Khalid greatly enjoys dancing. He was a star sender during his freshman year and enjoyed the 'remedial' activity more than others. He is a professional belly dancer and would teach courses to the younger children as a way to seek community support at home.
Khalid rarely smiles. Not because he is grumpy, but because it makes the rare ones more surprising. His father enjoys trying to earn one and Khalid secretly likes that Kalim exerts the effort.
Khalid is addicted to espresso. He greets the morning with two shots and can become very testy if coffee isn't available. Heartslabyul is always pre-prepared with two months advance.
'Greet the morning' is a stretch. Khalid endures insomnia and has little patience. If he lays in bed longer than thirty-minutes without falling asleep, he will not go to bed at all. He considers the effort wasted and will go work.
Khalid's eyebags are so deep, that Beatrice once balanced a jelly bean on one and it stayed. He wears press powder only under his eyes. You can still see the shadow though.
While uncommon for men to wear outside of ceremony - Khalid wears a tilak every day. Men may wear a tilak to enhance their connection to their spiritual beliefs, often for specific rituals, festivals, or ceremonies.
Surprising to anyone who crosses his path - Khalid is highly superstitious and spiritual. He expresses disbelief in luck or guiding spirits ... but considering his family's station, he gains peace of mind from the tilak's protection. He always knocks on wood when speaking of ill omens, etc. He tells himself that it's a self-induced placebo - because "you never know," once again. He would rather believe and cover his bases. This is one thing he has in common with his friend Anton.
Age: 16
Best Subject: Practical Magic
Birthday: November 19th
Height: 5ft 8
Hobby: Belly Dancing
Likes: Mocha Breve, Cafe Con Heilo, Tiramisu, High Quality Stationary
Dislikes: Sleep Aids (do not help), dense crowds, mornings
Club: Dance Club
Talent: Ambidextrous
UM: "Do you have the time?" - allows Khalid to go ten seconds back in time. He can only do this once per day, it is not a range (it has to be ten seconds), and to the average person it will look like he's merely spaced out for a brief second. Like the punch after you've eaten a sour candy.
A bit about Beatrice:
Beatrice hates her lineage with a passion. Especially her grandmother - who, mind you, was severely against her parents' marriage. Grandmother Rosehearts behaves much like Grandma Foreman from 'That 70s Show'. She doesn't believe that any woman out of her choosing is fit for her son, and begrudgingly complied with Riddle's marriage after he put his foot down. The topic is always ignored until holidays or whenever her grandparents come to visit...it's like every year she gets a piece of lore. Bea finds it romantic that her father turned down every possible option his mother tried to arrange ... but she feels the tensions still. It's so uncomfortable.
When Grandmother Rosehearts visits their house, it's like Beatrice's father becomes a different man. Everything must be perfect so that her grandmother doesn't poke flaws in their lifestyle. The entire home gets flipped upside down. She constantly makes comments about how Beatrice is being raised, slighting her mother's approach to parenting with backhanded remarks (frontal remarks were barred in a very stern ultimatum given by her father).
She wonders why her father stays connected. Her attention to detail is very astute for a child. Beatrice reads emotions very well...and frankly hates the man her father becomes when her grandmother is involved. Hates how the only time he seems to come out of it is when herself or her mother is in question.
She doesn't mind her grandfather though. Stale man, a bit stubborn, and his handshake is clammy but whatever.
She grows up under a steady hand despite the tensions. While not the emotional sort, her family's roots are impressive. Every member (aside from her mother) has contributed immensely to society through their exceptional magical aptitude.
One thought she heard whispered into her father's year was for her to be one of those people. To become a medical mage just like her grandparents wanted him to be (he strayed).
And rather than let Riddle argue or brush it off? Bea, young and much too wild for someone's liking, agreed. After hearing boast after boast about what Riddle could have been if he hadn't married her mom? Hadn't done what he wanted?
Well, spite is one wonderful motivator. She becomes determined to be the best medical mage in all of Twisted Wonderland. Better than ALL Rosehearts that came before her. She'd specialize in psychiatrics - a particularly difficult field and still relatively new - and she'd make sure to attribute every accomplishment to the parents who raised her right. She even considers changing her name to her mother's maiden one, hyphened with Rosehearts.
Steer clear from Speech and Debate with her. You will not win.
Her unique magic " Telephone // I'll just do it myself" is born from her adolescent frustrations. It allows her to transmit a line of thoughts to someone within her line of sight. The thought comes as a whisper in their own voice, like an extension of their own consciousness. The deeper the thought, the more likely they might realize it is not one of their own. It highly depends on the targets self-awareness.
All it takes is an idea - or a seed of doubt - to change the course of action. Especially when in a position where you cannot speak.
Beatrice uses her unique magic to air-drop memes into her dad's head without his consent.
Other things to know about Beatrice:
After hearing how her father struggled to relate to his peers as Housewarden, Beatrice decided to complete a 'Social Index' for each academic year she attends Night Raven. She keeps tabs on all of Heartslabyul's students by the week, notes their interests/birthdays/etc, and carries the book everywhere. It's her most attentive study, much to the dorm's vice/treasurer's chagrin. It is also why she goes her entire reign with only one challenger.
Beatrice became dorm leader within her first year. She challenged for the position the moment it was allowed. Just like her father.
Beatrice is very lively, but stern when it matters. She believes in trust given until a reason takes it away.
She is a straight-A student, and has been studying one-year ahead of her curriculum all her life. Many would not believe it given her attitude towards dorm paperwork...
Beatrice runs on sweets. Having open access to Clover bakery really fueled the addiction.
Contrary to the typical Night Raven pride, she does not mind Royal Sword academy.
Beatrice's baby pictures look nearly identical to Riddles. Her toddler years too. They had the same hair cut, but her photos are more 'colorful' and candid.
Beatrice is emotionally in tune with everyone but herself. It makes her a bit rash and oblivious (*cough*she'sdownbadforkhalidAsim*cough*)
She considers herself the 'mother' of her dorm, rather than the queen.
She has a younger sister of toddler age, and desperately wants her family to come for all open events at Night Raven (Halloween, etc etc). Always sends letters home so that her parents and sister might 'escape' for the holiday and come see her (Her father always declines as he can't leave work...only to show up saying that his schedule 'cleared'. Got guilt?)
Age: 16
Best Subject: Poison Making
Birthday: May 4th
Height: 4ft 11in
Hobby: Testing Medicines / Playing Chess
Likes: Strawberry Shortcake; Short Ribs; Sparkles; Summer; Fluffy Animals; Classical Music
Dislikes: Her grandparents, latex gloves, tea, laziness,
Talent: Tongue Twisters
Club: Science Club
UM: "Telephone / I'll Just Do It Myself" - allows Beatrice to streamline one thought to a persons conscience so long as she can see them. The deeper the thought, the more it translates to an outer voice. The longer the thought, the more magic it exerts. May upgrade to multiple targets if honed properly.
Prompt: Just some thoughts about some Yandere!TWST boys
Pairing: Yan!Jamil, Yan!Vil, Yan!Cater, Yan!Lilia, Yan!Malleus with the Reader/Yuu/Prefect
Genre: Yandere
TW: Mentions of tampering with food, Vil and Jamil using their unique magic wrongly, isolating behaviour, manipulation, and just generally unsettling vibes because this is a yandere thingy. Let me know if I missed anything!
Yan!Jamil will do a lot of things for you to choose him. He will beg, steal, even kill, if necessary, to ensure your eyes and heart never stray from him. However, there is one line he will never, ever cross. He will never tamper with your food. Jamil has experienced his fair share of food-related scares throughout his life while looking after Kalim. Food, for him, is sacred; the very act of making it, though learned more out of necessity, is something he enjoys nearly as much as he enjoys your company. Watching you enjoy the food he makes makes him happy beyond words, so why would he risk losing your trust by mixing anything unwanted in your food? Jamil sees making food for you as a reflections of his love and care for you, so no food he serves you will ever be tainted with substances, even if you are being a little too difficult. After all, he can just use his signature spell to ensure your obedience if he needs to go that far.
Yan!Vil will insist on you enjoying a glass of his morning smoothie with him before you leave his side. Of course, he conveniently leaves out the part where he uses his unique magic on the drink, making it so that the longer you stay away from him, the weaker you get and the more tired you are. Throughout the day, you feel your energy levels dip the longer you are around people, be it your friends or just crowds in general. It is only when you come back to him that you feel some relief, your energy flooding back into your veins and rejuvenating your entire person. Vil makes sure you equate him with feelings of strength, warmth and comfort; having you rely on his presence and turn all of your energy and affection towards him and him alone makes him almost dizzy with happiness. When you rely on him so blindly and badly, there's just no way he would ever be second to any one else in your mind, is there?
Yan!Cater finally understands why his sisters used to doll him up. He finally sees the appeal in spending hours upon hours selecting the silkiest, softest clothes and making you wear them. He is sweet about it too; just oh so sweet and soft and playfully mischeivous as he tugs you into his room, showing off the 'perfect' outfit he bought for you just a few days ago. Frills, lace, net, he wants to see you in everything. He makes you model the outfits, almost unconsciously choosing those similar to the ones his sisters would make him wear. Of course, your preferences are kept in mind when he chooses anything; he wouldn't want you to be cross with him after all. And he will never force you to wear those clothes out in the public if you don't want to. But surely you wouldn't mind taking a couple of selfies with him, even if some of the outfits he makes you wear make that cute face of yours darken in embarassment, right? And don't worry about those pictures being posted on his magicam; those are for his eyes, and his eyes alone.
Yan!Lilia will rekindle his love for globetrotting with you by his side. You wish to see more of Twisted Wonderland, fill your memories and increase your knowledge of this wonderous world, no? Who better to be your adventure buddy and guide to all things Twisted Wonderland than your beloved little bat fae? He manages to convince you to leave Grim behind with Malleus and Silver and Sebek in Briar Valley. Having raised those boys himself (to a certain extent), he knows they can keep the dire-beast occupied while he enjoys your company uninterrupted. While you two venture into the unknown, he takes the opportunity to slowly yet steadily isolate you from your friends. It is so natural, the way you lose contact with Riddle, Leona, Vil, Azul; people you talked to occasionally after graduating from NRC. The next victims of missed calls and gradual silence are your closest and dearest friends, Ace and Deuce and Jack and Epel. Ah, but fret not; his sons will always be in touch with the two of you, no matter how remote of places you visit. Such are the joys and wonders of fae magic. And they would, of course, be more than happy to pass on confirmation of your good health and even better life with their father-figure to the others, if you so desire. All you need to do is enjoy the world with your dear old bat.
Yan!Malleus will make you wear jewelry from his mother's personal collection. Is it a bit morbid to have his beloved wear the coronet his mother preferred? Perhaps. Did the royal silversmith look at him in confusion (and the tiniest bit of horror) when he had silver claws fashioned out of the pieces that his mother used to adorn her horns with, for you? Yes, but he sincerely believes his mother would approve of his decisions if she had had a chance to meet you. You're soft, far too soft for his world; it just makes him adore you more. And the jewelry is his method of warning those foolish and insolent enough to even think of threatening your place by his side. They are a sign of his favour, and a way to satiate his more draconic desires that scream to make you a part of his horde. Malleus adores the way the cold metal glints against your skin, highlighting the fragility of the human he has sworn to protect forevermore. Enchanted with the strongest protection magic he knows, they also double as a way to track your whereabouts, calming the more... possesive part of him that would happily lock you far, far away from anything and anyone that could hurt you. Wear them willingly, show them off as you are meant to, and Malleus' mood is immediately lightened. Briar Valley's skies will remain clear and bright as long as you let him drape you in jewelry fit for a royal consort of Briar Valley.
Okay okay I can’t be the only one who is interested in imagining how Yan!Vil would react to MC being like drop dead gorgeous, near or even above him in the looks department. I can’t see it going one of two ways 1.He embraces it and it makes him feel like it’s fate that brought hpthem together or 2.He feels jealous of everyone looking at them and feeling as if he’s the only one who deserves to admire their beauty
Thoughts?
OOH YOU COOKING-
Tw: controlling behavior, MC referred to as “dog”
Hmm…I think if MC is near gorgeous as he is then I think yeah he would believe fate played their turn in bringing the two of them together. I think he believes only the beautiful should run around together so it makes sense for him to believe it.
He would try to help them get into some kind of job with looks involved. Whether it’s model, actor, performer, etc. He’s supporting them every step of the way. If their fans come near though? He’s stepping in the way, giving them a stern eye.
“Excuse me, I must discuss something with them.” Then he’ll turn over and congratulate them on their success. He’ll also fuss over any imperfections that might have appeared throughout the gig.
I think he would love the like “power couple” status. So he would ensure both of them get famous and successful. While still instilling control over which jobs MC takes and that they still follow him.
They’re still his dog regardless of their fame and beauty.
(What about MC who doesn’t fit the conventional beauty standards at all?)
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She pecked his cheek before pulling him close as she nuzzled her nose into the crook of his neck that made her release a happy sigh in relief that the man she loved had returned her feelings.
“You wanna know something.”
At this she hummed softly into his neck as a sign of acknowledgement as she listened closely.
“That night when you kissed me, you do not know how much beauty sleep I’ve lost. Honestly you’re such a dense and stupid girl cause I’ve been dropping hints that I’ve liked you!…”
He exclaimed in frustration with no bite particularly, especially since the way his face had softened into fondness said otherwise as he ran his fingers through her hair.
At this the girl couldn’t help but burst out laughing before shouting playfully back at his words.
“WHAT HINTS?!”
She feigned a disbelief look, while pulling away to face him.
But she took in his words all in seriousness of what he might have gone through with the whole situation and felt a little bit at fault that she didn’t explain herself rather than pretending it never happened.
“Sorry…”
Whilst leaning over for another kiss (which he begrudgingly meet with a huff) as an apology for all the roller coaster emotions he might’ve felt.
“I’ll take the apology when you cancel your date with that gremlin,” he said, raising an eyebrow elegantly.
“Done! I was already going to.”
Glancing at the flowers behind him he scoffed and looked away with a frown.
“and rid of those flowers too.”
She looked at them and pouted playfully,
“Aww but they're pretty…”.
He then looked genuinely offended.
“Darling I’ll buy you better ones, ones that are picked for the best, not brought from the nearest convenience store.”
He retorted, leaving no room to argue.
She hugged him more closer now as she rested her head on his shoulder, smiling in bliss. She whispered in his ear,
“Alright, love. Whatever you say.”
And in that moment, everything seemed right holding onto one another as they wouldn’t want to change it for a thing.
The idea of Vil being A Yearner. He’s always so prim and proper, knows what to say, how to say it, and when to say it. He’s always prepared and rarely lets his emotions slip him.
But when it comes to you he just can’t help it. The fleeting glances and heartfelt stares don’t escape Rook and Epel, but they choose not to mention it. They see through the lingering touches when Vil fixes your uniform in the morning and the way his voice is just a touch higher when he speaks about you.
He gifts you products and that he says he has no use for (which is partially the truth, they were gifts during film shoots but didn’t fit his skin type, but knew it would fit yours), he fixes your hair when it gets blown by the wind without a word, he makes sure you’re eating and keeps your health in mind.
Vil’s love stems in care. He doesn’t just love who you can be, he loves who you were before, who you’ll be in the future, and most importantly who you are now.
𝆹𝅥 Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier (TWISTED WONDERLAND)
𝆹𝅥 Grim accidentally confess your feelings for them while you aren't around
Vil Schoenheit
Ever since you two grew close to each other Vil has been giving you lessons and advices to correct your posture and take better care of your skin and hair while sharing a tea (he swears it is because you should present yourself better as representative of NRC and not because is the perfect excuse to be close to you), it have even become rutinary but it seems you decided to don't come today. He was starting to get mad when Grim came in your behalf, explaining that there was a emergency you had to take care of (something more bothersome than serious honestly), Vil understood but he wasn't pleased when Grim took your place at the table, but before he could say anything Grim asked him if he wasn't mad for you not coming, explaining that you were so worried about him getting mad about you and getting bad impression because that would mess your chances with him and bla bla, clearly Grim was not happy with the anxious ranting you said before he left you, unlike Vil who was quite happy with the new information, perhaps he should ask more about it
Rook Hunt
As the romantic man he is, Rook has been showering you in compliments, gifts and poems, without even a bit of shame trying to court you with a smile and romantic gestures, by this point you may already be used to him appearing out of nowhere to flatter you, the gifts left on your path or even arrows throw on your way with a recently wrote poem, but even if you get used Grim doesn’t, and he is all startled and on the edge, complaining non stop about that guy from Pomefiore that always scare him. That is why Rook started to talk more and even give gifts to Grim too, in an attempt to get in his good side so he would forgive him (and, perhaps, give him his blessing, after all he is the closest to family you have around), and ever since he has been given free tuna Grim has been even expectant of Rook, one day telling him without thinking twice that now he understand you why you get all giddy and blushy, why you smile like a fool when reciving his gifts or whenever you tell him how much you do love Rook
Epel Felmier
He was making his way towards Ramshackle and the fact that he have sneaked away from Vil wasn't the only reason he was running, after all you two would be spending the afternoon alone, just the two of you, he couldn't waste a oportunity like that! Still, he stopped when he saw Grim walking away from Ramshackle and complaining about something, he asked Grim what happened, hoping nothing bad happened, but Grim just complained that you kicked him out for being so bothersome wich he obviously wasn't he was, you were just being irrational! Saying that you wanted everything nice and tidy for when your "future husband" arrives, so he is going somewhere else, he doesn't want to be where he is not wanted, but his overdramatic rant wasn't even heard because Epel was shocked, remembering the invitation (making sure to comfirn that you said it would be just the two of you before getting jealous) before growing incredibly flustered, he doesn't even know how he will look at you right now, not between the blush and the foolish smile in his lips
In which Y/N dreams of the child she might have had with the love of her life only for it all to be just a dream...
(Takes place during Book 7)
Wasn't there some saying about having children and them being lessons that one did not learn when they were children? There should be, because as Y/N watched and enraptured by her daughter- she was surely thinking that when she was a child, she was not nearly as smart as her own daughter. All she could do is watch in amazement as her daughter combed her hands through all the dresses that the attendants brought her- shooing away the ones that displeased her with such grace that it was impossible to believe she was only 5 years old.
Her blonde curls framed her rounded face- frowning with determination as she was clothed in a dress with puffed sleeves that stopped short of her elbows and in a royal purple color that made her eyes look even paler in comparison. There was a golden ribbon that wrapped around the waist loosely, and what had supposedly been a bow was now lying limp- untangled.
How time had flown by so quickly, without anyone even catching it. It had at least been a decade since Y/N and Vil’s last year at NRC as third years. They did their fourth year off campus in their own respective apprenticeships, and when they reunited after their almost year long break… well…
“No! It’s not right-“ The little girl cried out irritated. She motioned to the bow on her dress, clearly tied wrong. “It’s supposed to go like this- not that-“ her sentences, though longer, were still extremely simple as she huffed and puffed and got frustrated at the ribbon in her hands. They were too inexperienced- her motor skills still not completely developed- and so, though she tried her hardest to tie it correctly, the ribbon did not obey to her will. She almost looked exactly like- no. She DID look exactly like Vil in that moment, her chubby hands on her waist and the tapping of her foot- frustrated at the circumstances. She turned to her mother, holding out her dress skirt towards her- “Help.” Was all she said and Y/N sighed at her daughters orders.
If Vil was the queen (and he was), their daughter was the princess undoubtedly- and the princess always got what she wanted. Y/N obeyed her daughter, though corrected her words. “It’s ‘Help me, please?’” Y/N crouched down, now at face level. “Do you want to try?”
She pursed her little lips- as if reluctant to ask rather than demand… but she was so sweet when she wanted to be. And so she lifted her little face, and with a smile, she asked; “Help me, please?” She was so cute that Y/N couldn't even contain herself! Her violet eyes sparkled and even her light eyelashes were so long that she almost didn’t look real- like she was a doll. She had certainly taken after her father, and it was for the best she had- though her attitude was something to be desired.
The attendants were no where in sight now- even though the dress shop had been emptied for the mother and daughter so that they could browse privately without the paparazzi catching sight. Her and Vil had agreed early on that they would shield their daughter from the public- so that she would have time to grow up, and be unaffected by others words or judgment on her. She would be able to be her own person- not be influenced by opinions on her father, or what her own role should be in life. By keeping her from the public, they were also ensuring that everything she did in life would be of her own effort and volition.
A rustle came from behind the curtain that separated the dressing room from the rest of the boutique- however, instead of another sales associate with an arm full of more clothing, her beloved poked his head in. “Dear!” Y/N stood from her place beside her daughter, greeting her husband and placing a kiss on his cheek. “You said you wouldn't be able to join us today-”
”I did, but I couldn't bear the thought of my family shopping without me- and I knew you and I have hardly had any time together. So, I worked twice as hard to ensure I would be able to meet you here. Perhaps we can grab a nice dinner whilst in town, how does that sound?” It was like listening to rain when he spoke- so easy on the ears- and he said everything she wanted to hear. He always knew how to make her happy- like he was from a dream.
Their daughter took notice of her father, and her smile widened into a large grin and her eyes widened. She walked over towards Vil, a small pep in her step as she finally reached him- raising her arms and expecting to be picked up. He also obeyed her, because it seemed even the queen could not deny the princess anything. “The fairest in the lands and in my heart-” He held her on his hip and placed a soft kiss to her hair that matched his own. “Have you been behaving for mama?” He asked, brushing the stray stands of baby hairs down, though it seemed like no matter how hard he tried, they were persistent in sticking up at odd angles.
“Yes!” She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging Vil, and he returned the gesture gladly. He looked so natural with her- and had been so diligent when she had first become pregnant with their daughter. He had started reading books about how to not only physically but emotionally be able to care for ones child, and even taken classes- applying himself even more so than if it was any of his jobs. She pushed herself off of him finally, kicking her feet to be let down. When he did so, she put out her arms and twirled around. “What do you think papa? Do I look pretty?”
His eyes softened. “You look perfect to me Kleine- absolutely beautiful.” It seemed like he could not deny his weakness for their daughter either, as the both of them watched her continue her search for more clothing. She continued by making her way back out into the boutique, with Y/N and Vil following behind her and observing.
Y/N leaned in while their daughter shook her head adamantly at a pair of red and blue shoes- clearly not a fan of them. “She gets it from you, y’know?” Y/N whispered, and Vil leaned in towards his wife, raising an eyebrow.
“Does she?” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking towards their child. “If i seem to recall, you certainly had a part in her creation as well.”
Y/N chuckled. “Maybe just a little bit. You could hardly see my contribution though when she is an exact replica of you-” She gestured.
”She did get your smile.” Vil counters- still watching their daughter walk around, feeling fabrics. The playfulness dropped from his voice, becoming something gentler and more sincere. “Im glad, as its her best trait… What I would give to see both of you smile for me for the rest of our lives.”
”Vil-” Y/N started, on the verge of crying as her eyes watered, but she was saved as their daughter called out and let out a delighted squeal.
”Eeeehh! This one, this one!” She jumped up and down- unable to contain her excitement as both her parents came rushing over to her to see what she was holding. In her small arms was a dress that was a pale lilac color, almost bordering on pink. She held it up and exclaimed “This is the perfect dress for me!” It certainly looked like it was made for a princess as it sparkled with glitter and other small jewels sewn into the neckline.
Vil raised the garment for inspection, rubbing the material between his hands just as their daughter had. Everyone looked, waiting to see if the Queen himself approved- and with bated breath it was finally released with a nod of his head. “Do you truly love it Kleine?” She nodded her head, and Vil handed it to the nearby sales associate. “Please get this in her size and add it to our tab.” The lady was more than happy to do just that, taking the garment and walking off towards the backroom to package it.
”Im done- im getting tired and hungry papa.” The girl sighed.
”Then let us go eat dinner, hm?” Y/N reached down and picked her up. After gathering their bags of clothes, the family walked out of the boutique together. Luckily, it was a slow day in town, and so hardly anyone saw the family together, with both Y/N and Vil sporting sunglasses to conceal their eyes and a delicate scarf being tied over their daughters head to hide her face from possible cameras and the suns harsh light. Her skin was still so delicate that too much sun easily burnt her and irritated the skin- and so a scarf or small hat had helped when outside.
They were walking down the sidewalk, which was abnormally empty now that she really thought about it. It was like everyone had disappeared besides the shop keepers- but they also all minded their own business. But that suited her just fine- the less people who approached them, the better.
And then, of course they were stopped eventually- however it was by a director that Vil had worked with on multiple projects previously. Y/N didn't know him personally, but was more than happy to walk ahead and meet him at the restaurant so that they could get a seat by the aquarium. Their daughter enjoyed the aquarium and fish that decorated it.
”Are you sure Leibling?” Y/N nodded her head enthusiastically, and Vil sighed. “I am sorry my love, I’ll only be a moment.” He placed a kiss to his wife head and she went on her way with their daughter in her arms. But then… something odd happened.
She was outside the restaurant, about to go in, when she heard his voice from around the corner in a nearby alleyway. She walked around the corner, confused. She could have sworn she heard him- but perhaps it was an echo of his voice from down the way? She looked around, and then she saw him. Her eyes widened as she stepped forward- “How did you get here love? Was there a backway that I was unaware of that was faster?” She asked- still unaware of what was going on.
He looked different- the same but different. This was her Vil… but at the same time, not the Vil that was the father of her daughter. He looked startled, and a bit flustered as he spoke with such worry; “That isn't your child Y/N. Yo-” He stopped to correct himself. “We don't have a child.”
She frowned, her arms wrapping tighter around her daughter as the person with the face of her love dared to spew such blasphemy towards her; “W-what?” She narrowed her eyes, and even though the group of people who had cornered her couldn't see her eyes, she was sure they could see her eyebrows and just how displeased she was. “Who are you?! What are you talking about? Is this some kind of cruel prank?” It had to be- the cruelest of pranks imaginable as a person with the face of her husband denied their daughter’s existence. She gritted her teeth at that- she would kill them.
He approached her, and with every step he took towards her, she took one step backwards. Where was everyone? Why weren't there any people on the street nearby? Where was her Vil? “We’ve never gotten married, you are still a student at NRC and have never been pregnant. ” His hands were firm on her shoulders, disrupting her silk blouse. He had gifted it to her after he had taken their daughter shopping, and claimed he had seen it in the window and thought she would look good in it. She blinked, startled by his steel gaze, and how determined he seemed in his words. But, she could also feel her daughters body hanging onto her own, and how she shook in fear. “If you had graduated and this is real, then remember our graduation-”
“I- No. I don’t know what you mean-“ She argued back. A pounding in her temple throbbed, and she almost doubled over due to the pain. She felt so weak, and like she was trying to remember something- but it was slipping her mind. NRC… she had finished, and graduated… but then why couldn't she even remember the ceremony? Actually, she didn't recall any memories before the birth of her daughter- just vague statements she knew were true.
The stranger pressed on; “What’s her name then?” He motioned to her daughter, who was now hiding in her shoulder. She couldn't see her daughters face, but it was engrained into her memory at this point- her blonde, thin hair, her violet eyes, round cheeks that puffed out when angry- “When is her birthday? How are you able to go shopping without being followed- despite knowing anywhere I go I am bound to be found and watched.”
“I don't have to answer you! I know my own child's name, and her birthday- I know everything!” She yelled out now- startling the other group members- but Vil remained unchanged in his expression as he watched her. “Her name is…. Her name-“ and two things came to her at once: the first was her daughters name- which had slipped her mind- or perhaps, had never ever been real. “… is Reina.” Reina. The second thing she remembered: Reina was what she would have named the daughter her and Vil would have if they ever did have one… but she wasn’t real. Reina didn’t exist- and Vil had never gifted her a blouse he had seen in a window, nor had they ever gotten married. “It’s a dream.” She whispered out loud.
The moment she uttered the words, it was like the world shattered around her. It was so clear now- the colors were far too bright, she had never even visited Vil’s hometown so for all she knew this was just some random town that she had pieced together in her mind of what would be the perfect place to live. And then the child- her child, her daughter, her physical reminder of her connection to Vil- collapsed into a puddle of a black slime. She was pulled back by a strong hand on her arm, as Vil- the REAL Vil, brought her close to him- helping her to avoid getting the tar like substance on her.
”Vil…” She breathed out, and he looked down to her. He didn't need to say a word, for she knew what he was thinking. How pathetic was she- out of all her dreams she could have, her dream was to have a family with him- a child. But- she couldn't be ashamed in that moment for she felt like her heart had just been ripped out of her chest. “It was so real… I wanted it-” She sniffled, leaning into his chest. “I wanted it to be real!”
”I know Y/N…” He comforted her the little way he could- wrapping his arms around her. “I know…”
Pervy!Vil who hides his dirty desires behind discipline and order, excitedly talking about making a Boudoir album for you as he guides you to adjust your positions, facial expressions, as he makes you wear clothes full of lace and bows, all pink and blue, as he takes picture after picture, sometimes changing the lights or adding a symbol full of meaning. He is meticulously as he creates his muse.
Pervy!Vil who suggests each time more and more skimpy clothes for you to wear, even more if you're the shy, insecure type, saying how that will help build up your confidence. But all his words are slurred through his lips as his cock is pressing against his trousers, aroused to just watch you move around in the clothes he put you in.
Pervy!Vil who pushes himself inch by inch inside you after the photoshoot is over, his hands moving you around like a doll, bunching up your underwear in his hand as he bottoms out. Words of affection and love spill through his gritted teeth as he enjoys you, enjoys your body, pushing you to the edge just to not let you fall, watching how you cry and babble about being too much. Pervy!Vil who keeps the camera on to film everything; just a keepsake for him.
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Pervy!Vil who hides his dirty desires behind discipline and order, excitedly talking about making a Boudoir album for you as he guides you to adjust your positions, facial expressions, as he makes you wear clothes full of lace and bows, all pink and blue, as he takes picture after picture, sometimes changing the lights or adding a symbol full of meaning. He is meticulously as he creates his muse.
Pervy!Vil who suggests each time more and more skimpy clothes for you to wear, even more if you're the shy, insecure type, saying how that will help build up your confidence. But all his words are slurred through his lips as his cock is pressing against his trousers, aroused to just watch you move around in the clothes he put you in.
Pervy!Vil who pushes himself inch by inch inside you after the photoshoot is over, his hands moving you around like a doll, bunching up your underwear in his hand as he bottoms out. Words of affection and love spill through his gritted teeth as he enjoys you, enjoys your body, pushing you to the edge just to not let you fall, watching how you cry and babble about being too much. Pervy!Vil who keeps the camera on to film everything; just a keepsake for him.
