desolatewizard

[desolatewizard]

O

reblog with what ball deodorant scent we should launch

[desolatewizard]

E

after so many years i have returned to tumblr and oh man everything seems cooler now .. chill spot fr

YOU ABANDONED US YET YOU CAME CRAWLING BACK

[desolatewizard]

Nova dodges and the mug slams into the wall where their head once was, shattering on impact. They have a shit-eating :33 grin on their face. How were they doing that actually? Hang on that's uhhh... That's a bit weird, right? Thats not normal- What the- what the fuck-

Yayyy!! We did it everyone!!

-🔥🧙

*the Archivist chucks its empty mug of hot chocolate at Nova’s head*

[desolatewizard]

>:0

"I also vote for Homestuck time." Nova begins reminiscing about their graffiti at the destroyed church.

-🔥🧙

And I am reminiscing of the time I knocked you out with blunt force trauma.

[desolatewizard]

the desolation

[desolatewizard]

@entities-of-posts The Flesh

Low poly meats but with hearts cause it’s Valentines day. 🥩❤️

[desolatewizard]

[desolatewizard]

Nova waltzed into the archive, seemingly on a mission. They wore an outfit quite uncharacteristic for them, a nice black suit with maroon pinstripes, a black button-up, and a stark red necktie, tied in a full Windsor (half Windsors are for quitters, they always said). Upon closer inspection, they also bore makeup which was especially out of the blue. Black lipstick, mascara, and sharp eyeliner made their features stick out in a bold yet almost unsettling way. Behind their eyes was a spark that was unidentifiable unless one had been blessed with the Beholding.

"Hello Archivist. I wanted to look my best as I gave you my statement."

-🔥🧙

My, dressed to the nines! I’m flattered :)

Take a seat, please, I’m eager to hear it.

[desolatewizard]

"Sounds good, just let me know when you need me."

They stand from their chair and smooth out their suit. "Now if that's all, I'll be seeing you, Archivist."

Nova waltzed into the archive, seemingly on a mission. They wore an outfit quite uncharacteristic for them, a nice black suit with maroon pinstripes, a black button-up, and a stark red necktie, tied in a full Windsor (half Windsors are for quitters, they always said). Upon closer inspection, they also bore makeup which was especially out of the blue. Black lipstick, mascara, and sharp eyeliner made their features stick out in a bold yet almost unsettling way. Behind their eyes was a spark that was unidentifiable unless one had been blessed with the Beholding.

"Hello Archivist. I wanted to look my best as I gave you my statement."

-🔥🧙

My, dressed to the nines! I’m flattered :)

Take a seat, please, I’m eager to hear it.

[desolatewizard]

Nova hums. "Threat or not, my statement stands. If it ever came to y'all or him I will always choose him.

"As for the bit about 'for my own survival' that wasn't about you. Nor the Eye for that matter. That's between me and the gods.

"Finally, in regards to the spiders, I will offer any assistance you might need from me when the time comes. As long as my fiancé does not become involved, I pledge my loyalty to the Quebecois Archives. Should a situation arise where he becomes involved, we will rediscuss the terms of my allegiance."

Nova waltzed into the archive, seemingly on a mission. They wore an outfit quite uncharacteristic for them, a nice black suit with maroon pinstripes, a black button-up, and a stark red necktie, tied in a full Windsor (half Windsors are for quitters, they always said). Upon closer inspection, they also bore makeup which was especially out of the blue. Black lipstick, mascara, and sharp eyeliner made their features stick out in a bold yet almost unsettling way. Behind their eyes was a spark that was unidentifiable unless one had been blessed with the Beholding.

"Hello Archivist. I wanted to look my best as I gave you my statement."

-🔥🧙

My, dressed to the nines! I’m flattered :)

Take a seat, please, I’m eager to hear it.

[desolatewizard]

Nova looks at the Archivist, almost stricken. Although not quite. It was definitely an attempt to mask a feeling of hurt. "That's a deeply personal question, Archivist. I have half a mind to tell you to screw off for it as it's frankly none of your business. Fortunately for you, being a Lonely marked Desolation Avatar is a messy combination and I feel compelled to tell you in order to ensure my own survival."

They take a deep breath before continuing. "This doesn't leave this office. Should anything happen to them I swear to you I will make good on those threats. I trust you will do the right thing.

"As far as I'm aware he knows the extent of my feelings. I was the one that proposed after all. We're engaged and I'd do anything for them. Anything."

They hesitate for a moment. "Anything except abandon the Flame. I fear if I did it'd just find a way to take him from me anyway. It's not very 'professional' for one of the Desolation to have such a strong emotional bond. I may be toeing the line as it is."

Nova waltzed into the archive, seemingly on a mission. They wore an outfit quite uncharacteristic for them, a nice black suit with maroon pinstripes, a black button-up, and a stark red necktie, tied in a full Windsor (half Windsors are for quitters, they always said). Upon closer inspection, they also bore makeup which was especially out of the blue. Black lipstick, mascara, and sharp eyeliner made their features stick out in a bold yet almost unsettling way. Behind their eyes was a spark that was unidentifiable unless one had been blessed with the Beholding.

"Hello Archivist. I wanted to look my best as I gave you my statement."

-🔥🧙

My, dressed to the nines! I’m flattered :)

Take a seat, please, I’m eager to hear it.

[desolatewizard]

"What do you mean? How I feel about what?"

Nova waltzed into the archive, seemingly on a mission. They wore an outfit quite uncharacteristic for them, a nice black suit with maroon pinstripes, a black button-up, and a stark red necktie, tied in a full Windsor (half Windsors are for quitters, they always said). Upon closer inspection, they also bore makeup which was especially out of the blue. Black lipstick, mascara, and sharp eyeliner made their features stick out in a bold yet almost unsettling way. Behind their eyes was a spark that was unidentifiable unless one had been blessed with the Beholding.

"Hello Archivist. I wanted to look my best as I gave you my statement."

-🔥🧙

My, dressed to the nines! I’m flattered :)

Take a seat, please, I’m eager to hear it.

[desolatewizard]

((Disclaimer: people and events described in this statement are inspired by things that happened in the Mod's actual life. They have been edited to fit the narrative of a TMA Desolation Avatar. All persons described in the statement are, to the extent of my knowledge, still alive. Except Tim who is a completely fictional character. Names have been changed to respect privacy.))

Nova sits across from the Archivist and straightens out their suit. "I thought it only fair after all the times I've itched to burn your things. Anywho, let us begin."

Statement of Nova Malt regarding a fever.

I don't know where to start. My father? My grandmother? Let me think.

I suppose it would suffice to simply say that I had a troubled childhood. I didn't know it at the time; it was subtle, gradual. I wouldn't say I was abused, not physically at least. Just… often manipulated in some way.

I don't know how much of it was intentional or not and I suppose it doesn't really matter now. All that's important is that I was hurting a lot as a child.

I don't mention this to get your sympathy or your pity, nor am I bringing it up so you have some sort of dirt on me or whatever it is you may do with this information. I only say it to provide context, as I believe it is what started me on the path I am on today.

Now where was I? Oh right! I was hurting a lot as a child; a combination of mental illness and family troubles. As I grew older I started becoming increasingly violent. It started small. Getting into fights at school, petty theft, etc. It wasn't until I was spending time at a summer camp—one of my mother's many attempts to correct my behavior—that I really became interested in fire.

They had been teaching our group basic survival skills. How to pitch a tent, what foods were and were not forageable, how to make a bear bag. Anything that would be useful to surviving in the wild, not that the New Mexico wilderness is terribly difficult to brave 

One of the things they taught us, as you may have guessed, was how to construct a fire. Needless to say I was fascinated. They instructed us to try out making our own and I was a natural. I think I was the first in my group to succeed in making one. I was so happy. I sat watching the flames flickering, completely enamored. They were mesmerizing, almost hypnotizing. If I'd not known any better I would say they seemed to call out to me.

I decided then that fire was going to be my new weapon of choice.

They probably should've realized that teaching a violent troubled child to create fires was not in their best interest. Although I didn't do anything to them.

Jump forward a couple years and I'd done several instances of light arson by this point. Nothing that couldn't be rebuilt. This was around the time that my father came into play.

I'd always known he was a criminal and that it was the reason that he and my mom had separated. It wasn't until I was fourteen that I'd learn what it is he did.

I won't go into detail but suffice it to say that he was a monster far worse than any of us.

There wasn't much I could do at the time as I couldn't drive and he lived in the next state over. Visitations we're also extremely limited due to the nature of his crimes so I'd just have to wait until an opportunity presented itself. And present itself it did.

I was sixteen when I'd claimed my first real victim. I'd hatched a plan to drive to his location and make him pay for all the people he'd hurt. 

I'd told my mom that I was going to be staying at a friend's house for the night and then I turned off my location and drove to my father's house in Phoenix. It took almost all day to get there and it was about dusk when I arrived.

As soon as I arrived, I made sure he was alone and quickly and quietly set to work. The details are unimportant but I knocked him out and used lots of gasoline (do you guys call it petrol in Canada?), plenty of shredded paper, some wooden boards, and a single match to set his house ablaze. After he woke back up enough to realize what was happening.

I watched, contented, no, excited as his house went up in flames with him still inside. It's funny, I could hear him running around inside, frantically trying to find a way out but I'd already thoroughly sealed up all the exits.

The damn bastard spent his final moments terrified and alone and I couldn't help but to feel elated at the prospect. How I reveled in his pain and terror. I'd never felt anything like it before and I'd not feel like that again for a very long time.

Anyway, the house was gone before the fire department even arrived. After that I got back in my truck and drove through the night back to my own home.

Through the whole ordeal the calling feeling from the fire had returned. It felt like I was being beckoned towards the flames and, I'll admit, I almost listened. Had it not been for my trying not to get caught for first degree murder, I doubt I would have stayed back.

That's when I think the fever started. The drive home had been hot and uncomfortable and no matter how high I turned the air conditioner and how many windows I rolled down, I couldn't seem to get cool. At the time I'd attributed it to the hot Arizona summer even though the trip there had certainly not been that bad and I was now driving at night.

The next several days were spent with this burning uncomfortable heat. I thought maybe I'd caught something but I had no other symptoms so I figured I'd be fine. I didn't have my own healthcare at the time so I couldn't take myself to the doctor and I'm glad now that I didn't.

Over the next several months, I felt the fever in my body, this incessant, unending heat, get ever hotter. I'm fairly sure that it'd been long since my vital organs should have shut down.

And the dreams, the damn dreams. I'd have recurring dreams about my father's murder. How good it was to be rid of him, how right the fire felt. The calling of the flames echoed in my mind, getting louder and louder with every passing night.

I tried satiating it with some minor arson here and there but it almost seemed to make it worse. In hindsight it probably did.

It all came to a head on a rather unfortunate evening with my cousins, sister, and grandmother. I was already volatile as it was without the mounting pressure of the flames calling for whatever it was they wanted.

I don't like recounting this particular story but it ended with my grandmother's death as well. Serves the bitch right. 

To keep it brief, we'd gotten into an argument and she made it physical. It was the moment she hit me that everything suddenly came out.

I can still hear the voice of the flames at that moment, clear as day. "Feed." And I did. 

As she went in to touch me again I caught her arm and squeezed. The smell of smoke wafted through the air as she screamed. I didn't let go. She tried to pry me off but I just grabbed her other arm and did the same.

I don't know what happened after that, it's all a blur. What I do know is that all I could think about was this need to hurt, to feed. And how good it felt to do so. After all this woman had done to everyone in her life she deserved to suffer, to die. So I killed her too. By the time I was done with her, she was nothing more than a foul-smelling charred corpse.

God damn did it feel great. The euphoria I felt ending that woman's life didn't hold a candle to anything I'd ever experienced before. Except, now that I think about, when I killed my father.

Unfortunately the rest of my family saw it all.

My cousins and sister looked on in horror as I did my thing and I'm pretty sure they had been begging me to stop. I hadn't. When I realized what I'd done and who had seen it, I ran.

And I ran.

And I didn't stop running until I was out of the city. I never saw my sister again.

I don't know how I ended up where I did as the following weeks or maybe months had been a haze. I don't really know how long it had been between my grandmother's death and me waking up in a stranger's bed. What I do know is I was somewhere cold. I couldn't feel it but it must've been cold because I saw snow outside the window.

The stranger walked into the room and startled at seeing me awake. He began fretting about my condition, saying he'd found me unconscious at his door and he, being the good Samaritan he is, decided to help treat my fever but it just wouldn't break. I informed him that no, I don't think it ever would. I thanked him for his kindness and tried to excuse myself from his home but he insisted I stay, at least until we were sure I wouldn't relapse. 

So I did.

That was the day I realized that I no longer felt the heat as unbearable. No, it was comfortable now, welcome. Like a warm hug or a cup of cocoa. If hugs and cocoa were evil fear entities. It felt natural, like it'd always been there. The heat was no longer a screaming, demanding call to action but rather felt like reuniting with an old friend.

I'm getting off track. Eventually me and the stranger, whose name I learned was Julio, became roommates and we spent the next several months getting to know each other. Any time he was out I'd test my newfound Flame, cultivating it and making it stronger. Sometimes I'd do more than training. Not that he knows that. I'll admit, my grandmother wasn't the last person I killed before coming here.

If I waited too long that calling feeling would return only to be satiated by the feeling of taking a life. I began chasing that feeling for oh how did it excited me. I was like an addict chasing their next high. Kinda still am.

Anyway, in the meantime—anytime I wasn't trying to kill some unfortunate person—I tried to read up on people that might be like me and found a website for the Magnus Institute. A place where people researched and documented the supernatural. I got into contact with a man named Tim, whom I eventually befriended and he gave me the information about the supernatural including Smirke's list—as a sidenote I'm fairly sure he had some sort of hyperfixation on the guy—and the and contact information for your archives. I'll admit, a trip to London just to find other folks with the Flame so your place it was. 

Shortly after Tim passed I decided it was probably time to find my way to your place and several months of wandering later, I ended up knocked unconscious by an umbrella by a certain purple-haired Archivist. Which brings us up to speed.

Any questions?

Nova waltzed into the archive, seemingly on a mission. They wore an outfit quite uncharacteristic for them, a nice black suit with maroon pinstripes, a black button-up, and a stark red necktie, tied in a full Windsor (half Windsors are for quitters, they always said). Upon closer inspection, they also bore makeup which was especially out of the blue. Black lipstick, mascara, and sharp eyeliner made their features stick out in a bold yet almost unsettling way. Behind their eyes was a spark that was unidentifiable unless one had been blessed with the Beholding.

"Hello Archivist. I wanted to look my best as I gave you my statement."

-🔥🧙

My, dressed to the nines! I’m flattered :)

Take a seat, please, I’m eager to hear it.

[desolatewizard]

Nova arrives at what the believe is the meeting spot. It matches the description at least. In the woods, near the train tracks, is a field. They send Lu their location, just to be sure he actually makes it.

A whistling comes from the woods as Lu walks into the clearing. He's dressed for a night out, his makeup light but still noticeable, he wears a deep blue velvet coat which he slips out of, letting it fall behind him. He steps forward, silent feet on the brilliant white snow. Lu's shadow arches behind him.

"Nice day we're having, isn't it," he calls across the field.

[desolatewizard]

"Meh. It's probably fine till we get back to the archives. Plus, I forgot my sewing kit so I don't know if you could do anything right now anyways."

Nova arrives at what the believe is the meeting spot. It matches the description at least. In the woods, near the train tracks, is a field. They send Lu their location, just to be sure he actually makes it.

A whistling comes from the woods as Lu walks into the clearing. He's dressed for a night out, his makeup light but still noticeable, he wears a deep blue velvet coat which he slips out of, letting it fall behind him. He steps forward, silent feet on the brilliant white snow. Lu's shadow arches behind him.

"Nice day we're having, isn't it," he calls across the field.

[desolatewizard]

Nova continue staring a moment longer than Lu. "I see," they say simply before turning and retrieving their own jacket. "I know that's a tense subject so I won't press it but if you want someone to tag along for support, my door's always open. Or the Archive's Spiraled™ doors are at least. You'd find my place." Nova slung their jacket over their shoulder, not wanting to get the probably too quickly flowing blood from their waist on it.

Nova arrives at what the believe is the meeting spot. It matches the description at least. In the woods, near the train tracks, is a field. They send Lu their location, just to be sure he actually makes it.

A whistling comes from the woods as Lu walks into the clearing. He's dressed for a night out, his makeup light but still noticeable, he wears a deep blue velvet coat which he slips out of, letting it fall behind him. He steps forward, silent feet on the brilliant white snow. Lu's shadow arches behind him.

"Nice day we're having, isn't it," he calls across the field.

[desolatewizard]

Nova takes his hand and hoists themself up. "Haha, thanks!" They dust themself off and look to where Lu is looking. "Yeah, I feel better. At least for now. Remind me to get you a victory gift later." They stare at the trees for a moment before continuing. "What are you thinking about, Lu?"

Nova arrives at what the believe is the meeting spot. It matches the description at least. In the woods, near the train tracks, is a field. They send Lu their location, just to be sure he actually makes it.

A whistling comes from the woods as Lu walks into the clearing. He's dressed for a night out, his makeup light but still noticeable, he wears a deep blue velvet coat which he slips out of, letting it fall behind him. He steps forward, silent feet on the brilliant white snow. Lu's shadow arches behind him.

"Nice day we're having, isn't it," he calls across the field.