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ghouldtime · 8 days

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Alone. Truly Alone. Chapter Two.

You finally go get your $500 - and more than you bargained for.

A follow up to this post:

https://www.tumblr.com/ghouldtime/761732918458597376/alone-truly-alone?source=share

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Crazy. You’re certain you’re crazy.

You’ve finally lost it. Gone off the deep end, as they say. But not just into the deep end of a pool, no. Straight into the Marianas trench, home to nightmares and abominations of nature alike.

There’s no way that you saw that… thing. There’s no way that thing could exist, right? There’s simply no plausible way. No mutation that horrible would result in anything living, sustaining, breathing. Nothing with that much dead, rotten flesh was alive. Nothing could be. Nothing should be.

Yet the picture that lay on your coffee table begged to differ. The glossy photo seemed more like found footage than anything as it lay there, almost mockingly in its freshly printed state. Blotted ink remained a little bit grainy and blurry around the edges, a little too dark - but the substantial figure was there, nevertheless, lying on the bed in the corner of the picture, tucked away in the darkness. All six arms lay on its chest, heads turned curiously towards you as it reclined.

Even if it was rough around the edges, there was no denying the proof that the nightmare of a creature was, in fact, real and not just a vivid hallucination brought on by the delirium of wandering through endless hallways and inhaling mold. It wasn’t a perfect picture, or even a good picture. But it was a picture, substantial proof, something you could wave around and say “SEE! I’m not making this up!” all the same.

The longer you stared at it, the larger the pit in your stomach grew. It had been there the whole time - watching you. That monstrosity had been there the entire time, lurking, watching. A wave of nausea hit you as the phantom smell of it resurfaced, your hand finding out mouth as you gagged and averted your eyes to the ceiling. You didn't want to think about it or look at it any longer.

Such a thing couldn’t be real. Shouldn’t be. There’s no such thing as monsters.

Sleep evaded you, lingering on the precipice of your consciousness, always just out of reach as you stared at the TV.

After all, what if that… that thing came after you? What if it followed you back? With six hands, surely it could pry apart the fencing and any door it wanted. And with how silent it moved, you wouldn’t notice it until it was too late. The only thing that brought you a modicum of comfort was the fact that it would have to pass several dozen houses and streets to get here, at the very least. And that wasn’t even including the drive it took to get there. Someone would notice it before it got to you.

But that doesn’t mean they would stop it. No one in their right of mind would confront such a thing.

You checked that every single door and window was locked with trembling hands and rechecked them again and again. Darkness bathed the inside in its inky wash as all the drawn curtains and blinds shielded you from the outside world that you wished would go away.

White noise from the TV sounded throughout the house as your favorite show aimlessly played loud enough to provide you something so you wouldn’t have to think. The voices were something familiar that you could hold onto amidst the raging storm of emotions and flurry of thoughts in your head. They were something that drowned out the chatter in your skull that nagged you, threatening to eat you from the inside out. But they couldn't tune out every rustle outside or every bump in the night.

Sporadic flickers of color and light danced continually as the hours waltzed on in agonizing slowness. The people on the TV prattled on and scenes changed, but you didn’t move. Not one bit. Every slight creak and shift of the house had you hunching down closer to the couch, eyes darting around as your heart froze and breath caught until the noise passed, praying for day sooner rather than later.

By the time the birds began singing their all too merry songs outside and the faintest slivers of sunlight finally peeked through the bottom of the curtains, you’d run over the possibility of how this thing could exist twenty times over, questioned your sanity nearly just as much, and were no closer to an answer.

You should just forget all about this, tear up the photo, and pretend it never happened. Maybe you could convince yourself that it was all one terrible, awful melatonin-induced dream if you tossed the damned photo down the paper shredder and fed the evidence to a blazing fire.

You'd never have to see - or think about it again. Out of sight, out of mind, was how the saying went anyways but a sinking feeling told you it wouldn't be that easy.

But the ugly, salmon colored flier reminded you of what awaited - of what you could get if you pushed through this nightmare long enough to throw the offending picture at the guy in exchange for the money you would really like right about now instead. It would still be out of your house, out of sight, and maybe one day out of your memory if you got rid of it fast enough.

Which, thinking about it - you didn’t know where to go to offload the accursed possessions you'd swiped. The guy had never given you his address. You only had his number and maybe he’d given his name, not that you understood much of whatever he said. A quick glance at the digital clock on your phone determined it was 7:30 AM. As far as you were concerned, that was early enough to make the call after the hell of a night you just had.

Dialing the number, the phone rang.

And rang.

And rang some more.

If it went to voicemail, you’d kill that son of a-

“Aye - John speakin’” The gruff voice crackled through, interrupting your thoughts.

You could’ve sworn you heard a yawn from the other end. The little bit of sympathy you might’ve had for waking him up ‘early’ went right out the window though with one quick, furtive glance at the picture of the being that would haunt your dreams for many moons to come.

“Hey, it’s me.” You breathed out, your own sleep-deprived brain not exactly being the best at conversations

The pause on the other end, the silence that lasted for what easily could've been centuries (or only a few seconds, it was hard to tell), shocked you into a slight stupor as you stuttered out in a single breath, “The person who spoke to you last night. About the flier.”

Licking your lips, you nearly grimaced at just how poorly you thought this call through. Maybe it would have been a good idea to take a nap before you dialed his number - or maybe an energy drink to stir yourself to alertness. Well, it was too for that late now. Far too late. “I went. Got what you asked.” You stated, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

The other end went still, silent, you couldn't even hear him breathing for a few, painstaking moments that drew on as the clock on your phone blinked 7:32. Checking to see if he hung up, you turned the screen of your phone on again before the voice came through once more.

“… you did?” By some miracle, you could distinguish the words through the slurred Scottish brogue addled with sleep.

“Mhm.” You tried not to look at the picture that watched you from all angles. “Got the, the.. thing, got the picture. Like you asked.”

Each unsteady beat of your heart thudded louder and louder against your chest as the seconds ticked away. Outside, someone starting up their lawnmower echoed through the silence. The steady humming of the machine in the near distance cutting through the air like a knife.

The man hummed a noise of approval, or what you’d classify as that. Maybe he just was a fan of awkward silences.

“Brilliant. When are you free?”

“Today. Now.” You wanted this done and over with before you could think about it anymore.

He paused for a split second before agreeing with a non-committal noise “Right. See you soon.”

It seems he too wasn’t keen on taking his time to meet up either. Before you could ask for the address, he hung up. Staring in disbelief at the now blank phone, a flare of indignation rose right in your soul. Who was this guy and what the hell was up with him?

First time you talked to him, he was near erratic and all over the place. Now he hardly seemed to be breathing. And he just hangs up on you? The gall of that man. You certainly were going to flip him the bird for all of this after you got your money.

Before you could text him a slightly passive aggressive message asking where, pray tell, you're supposed to go; a text bubble lit up the screen with the address. A residential address, come to find out with a quick mapping search. Great. Just great. Now you were likely going to this psycho’s house.

Once again, this really wasn’t your brightest idea and started to increasingly seem like a good way to find yourself lying six feet under, taking a permanent nap in the dirt. But money was money and turning back now meant kissing that sweet cash goodbye. Not to mention, it meant going through all of that would’ve been for nothing. At least you could cuss him out face-to-face if something else went wrong. Knowing your fortune, and luck, it was probably already written in the stars.

Turning the location on on your phone, leaving a note on the counter (though no one else would see it, aside from police investigators if everything truly imploded), and pocketing a switchblade, you grabbed your things and got in your car, ready to ride off to your doom.

The drive, as it turns out, wasn’t long at all. It was maybe fifteen minutes at best, including traffic. He’d been that close this whole time? You weren’t sure whether to laugh or to cry at the idea of this (possible) psychopath being almost in your own back yard. Maybe you'd even run into him at the store and not even known it.

The engine of your car sputtered out as you took your keys out and parked, your fingers tightening on the wheel as you stared out at the house in front of you. The address was exactly as he texted you. No errors, and no doubt about it. This was the place.

A normal, too normal, place. A residential neighborhood filled with cookie cutter houses and families alike.

Nothing about it screamed suspicious or intimidating or ‘likely a place you’ll be murdered’. Nothing about the neighborhood did, either. Plenty of normal people were out enjoying the early morning sun without the blistering heat of the day looming over them. They walked their dogs, chatted to one another, dug in their garden beds, all blissfully unaware of what was out there. They even waved to you, for Christ’s sake.

The quaint ranch style house settled in a cozy corner lot hardly seemed to be the kind of place where a man who knew of such horrors would live. It seemed like your average, basic, everyday house that you wouldn't think twice about; a house that blended in and was as in-line as the community surrounding it. A house where you just may meet your end.

Taking a deep breath, you let the air fill your lungs til it ached before you steadily exhaled to calm your frazzled nerves. Every lingering doubt and second guess was pushed to the corner of your mind. You’d come this far already. Okay. You’ve got this. In and out. If you could make it through the building and out with that… thing existing, you can go up to the door.

The dull thud of your car door shutting behind you sealed your fate as you steeled your nerves and approached. Graveled pebbles and stones alike crunched underneath your shoes as you strode up to the door. A river rock lined flowerbed dotted with daisies, red carnations, yellow pansies, and poppies wrapped around the front in a cheery garden that swayed blissfully in the light breeze. Bright, delicate petals dappled with dew sparkled brilliantly, so bright, so unaware of the world that you had found yourself in. They stood in stark contrast to the building dread that gnawed at your sanity, a polar opposite to what you'd seen.

Wooden planks creaked underneath your weight as you stepped up onto the tiny porch, moving even closer. With one final steady inhale, you rang the doorbell. The merry chime might as well be your death bell tolling.

Stepping back, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt as the shuffling inside began. Each small thump and pad closer matched a beat in your heart. Your breath hitched slightly as your hands grew clammy, the steps getting closer and closer, yet staying so far away inside all the same. Every tick of a second passing added another layer to your anxious anticipation as millions of questions ran through your mind. Was this a mistake? Was this really the right house? Did he know what was there in that building? Is that why he sent you?

All thoughts sputtered to a halt the moment the door swung open, creaking on its hinges, and you were greeted with a sight you never expected to see.

"Mystery man" was nothing short of classically handsome. You’d expected some batty old geezer with spectacles that made his eyes seem like full moons who wore his shoes backwards and smelled like old potpourri. Yet John, as he stood, was the furthest thing from it. A strong stubbled jaw, eyes as blue as the Circassian sea, and a grown out mohawk that curled on the top seemed more befitting of someone you'd see in a modeling catalog, not someone who would be tracked down by a poster haphazardly stapled to a telephone pole. Blinking in sheer, utter surprise, you nearly didn’t catch the words flying out of his mouth.

“-come in, then. No use in waiting out here. The lawn doesn’t deserve to be gifted my AC.”

Caught in your stupor, anything you had to say about not stepping foot in stranger’s houses or protest of “no really, I’m fine out here” died in your throat. A mute nod was all you could muster as you stepped in with tense reluctance, leaving your shoes on because you half expected to run out of there screaming anyways.

It is only when he held the door open for you that you realized the gap in the sleeve of his shirt. He was missing his left arm. All lessons about not staring at strangers, especially strangers who looked any bit different, that had been drilled in your head since you were a young kid (and were common sense and empathy, really) went right out the window as you couldn’t help but to look - you're not sure at what exactly, all of him was equally distracting. The whole ‘not being a batshit insane old man’ still hadn’t quite registered fully either and still rattled around in your skull. Or maybe it was the fact that he was unexpectedly attractive enough to make you forget the nerves that held you hostage the night before.

His eyes shone with a knowing gleam as he gave a lopsided grin, “I know, bonnie. The smile is… disarming.”

If you weren’t so caught up in the familiar heat of a blush rising to dust your cheeks a rosy hue, the pun wouldn’t have gone over your head for the first few awkward seconds. That was a thoroughly terrible joke. Much like this whole situation.

When it registered, the words slowly sinking into your brain instead of going in one ear and out the other, the warm blush only doubled as you half-heartedly chuckled. Like a deer in the headlights, you didn't know quite what to do now that he caught you staring. Your brows furrowed as you cleared your throat and looked anywhere but at him as your blush darkened, the warm feeling of embarrassment embracing you like the old friend that it was.

Unphased (much to your relief), he didn’t seem to think twice about it or read into the tension held in your frame as he led you into the house as unbothered as could be like this was a normal Sunday morning for him. Your limbs were on autopilot as you trailed at his heels, following him further in against better thought. A pungent, sterile whiff of rubbing alcohol and bleach caused you to wrinkle your nose as you passed into the kitchen but you snorted and pushed that aside. At least he liked to keep things clean.

Despite the cozy exterior, the inside more closely matched a modern museum in furnishings. Though the walls bore warm, flowery wallpaper and the appliances similarly outdated - nothing donned them. Every bit of furniture you set eyes on, from the couch to the tables and chairs, were sleek, cheap, and modern; as if everything had been bought in a rush and assembled in a weekend.

None of it fit with each other. All items stood mismatched in the same bland basic style that didn't remotely blend with the warm, earthy tones of the wooden accents of the floor and moldings alike. The feeling of unease crept up along your spine once more despite his welcoming presence, whispering in your ear about how you should probably hurry up and get out of here.

Like everything else though, it seemed fate wasn’t on your side. He pulled out a chair - John, you repeated his name to yourself, pulled out a chair and nodded for you to sit as he busied himself in the outdated kitchen. You watched as he buzzed around, moving pots and pans with seemingly little purpose or agenda aside from moving.

Once again, it didn’t register that he was talking until he was half-way through a sentence as he spoke a mile a minute. How fast he talked certainly didn’t help and your theory of him being easier to understand in person was only minimally true. Every bit of concentration you had went into straining your ears as you watched his lips, trying to figure out what he was saying.

“- so I’m sorry ‘bout the mess.” You weren’t even sure what mess he was talking about as there hardly seemed to be a speck of dust around, “Didn’t exactly expect someone…” He paused for a split second, nearly too fast to notice, “To take up on it and so fast.”

He finished polishing down the already spotless countertops, tossed the paper towel away, and headed back towards the table. Pulling out the chair beside you, he sat himself down. That bright, award winning smile back on his face beamed warmer than the early morning light streaming through the windows. “Now… best be on with it. Show me what you got.”

His unblinking eyes followed your movements, as your fingers jammed over your bag’s zipper. The intense stare didn’t ease your nerves one bit nor did it let up. Nevertheless after some awkward fumbling, you set the photo down on the table, pushing it towards him and the clipboard you had swiped too. You didn’t dare breathe a word about the thing you got a picture of. That was up to his own discretion and if he questioned, it would be his funeral.

With how nearly normal he seemed in person, he likely didn’t expect to see something like that. Sure he was a bit eccentric and things weren’t quite adding up, but showing a person a creature born of the abyss as casually as you might show them a picture of a flower you saw on a walk one day usually wouldn't elicit a great reaction.

Snapping up the clipboard the moment you placed it down with a motion so fast you jolted back, his bright blues frantically scrolled from smudged word to word. He didn’t say anything for a few, long moments as his eyes darted back and forth, his one hand near trembling as he grasped it. Silence reigned supreme as you sat on the edge of your chair, watching him with increasing unease. The turmoil only grew as he set the clipboard down and picked the picture up, bringing it closer to his face to study.

Nervous was an understatement to describe how fast your heart beat. Struggling to swallow, it was like sand clogged your mouth and lead had been poured in your stomach. Your nails dug into the soft flesh of your palms as you squeezed your hands together, trying to remain calm. Would he think it’s a joke? A prank? Photoshop gone wrong? Demand you get out and rob you of the money you so deserved? It was hard to tell the emotions going on behind his once expressive face as it drew into a contemplative line, the bags underneath his eyes that you hadn’t noticed prior seeming more pronounced.

An instant later though, he snapped back to the smile all too fast. Much to your joy, he didn't bring it up or think twice. But he smiled, a grin that didn't quite reach his sunken eyes. “Aye, that’ll do nicely. I’ll be right back with your money.”

Good, you thought. Breathing a sigh of relief to yourself, you watched with tired eyes as he stood up, taking the clipboard and picture to match along with him. He shuffled off, humming to himself, seemingly very pleased. And you simply stared at his retreating form. You didn’t know what to think about it, him, or any of this and you most certainly weren’t going to try to think too hard. Not when you were about to be out of here with money in hand and monster all forgotten.

In the other room, John moved at a leisurely pace as if he had all the time in the world. Nothing more than a slow shuffle as he whistled a tune too low to make out, the ruffle of papers flying and drawers opening and closing sounded through the thin walls.

Your fingers idly fidgeted with one another as you glanced around the stark home, trying to find something to distract yourself with. The contrast in the awkward environment reminded you much of John himself. Odd, to say the very least. There weren't any decorations or anything to note aside from the clash of it all. All of the furniture was brand new, cheap, but the bones of the house itself hadn’t been touched in years. There wasn’t anything personal - aside from a mangled wooden frame that caught your eye on the otherwise barren kitchen wall.

A lazy glance at the otherwise drab frame resulted in a double take. Two figures dressed in all black tactical gear stood side by side, illuminated by the blaze of a summer sun. Who you could guess was John, based on the bright grin and equally intense blue eyes, had his arm slung around a figure. A figure that caused your blood to run cold. In the same skull mask that you'd seen the cerberus, the mutant, was someone who bore a remarkable resemblance. An uncanny amount, as if they were twins.

Rising from your chair, your eyes widened as you took a closer look. The steady thump, thump, thump of your heart picked up bit by bit as things started to seem a bit too identical the longer you looked. The masked figure held nearly all the same gear you'd seen on the thing, albeit in significantly better shape. He had the same muscles and overall stature too. But instead of faded, opal eyes and too many limbs to match, it was a normal man with a cold, dark brown gaze.

“Not a bad picture of us.”

You jumped out of your skin as you whirled around with a suppressed yelp, your heart skipping a beat as you paled. John stood in front of you, so close you wondered how you didn't hear him sneaking up.

The forced, tense smile on his face didn't reach his wary gaze that drifted to the portrait. The contrast of bright teeth underscored by deep lines, etched into his face as his thousand yard stare drifted back to you made your hair stand on end.

“Uh… yeah…” You managed to stutter out as you choked down more of your nerves.

The lingering look he held on you dug in like thousands of knives, tearing you apart bit by bit, looking for a weakness. It made you squirm as you shifted from foot to foot, your teeth finding your inner lip the moment you sucked in a breath.

Gathering the confidence you finally asked, “So… the payment…”

You couldn't meet his gaze. Not when he was looking at you like that. An indiscernible, scrutinizing gaze that burned hot in your soul, as if he saw right through you and inter your mind.

There’s no way he didn’t know. There’s no way he doesn’t know that thing. There's no way he didn't know when he put that ad up.

And he knows that you know. Oh gods, he knew. You took the picture and were kind enough to pull that trigger yourself. You gave him the proof in a neat little glossy square and a clipboard alike.

Not a single word was spoken about it as he nodded, holding out a stark white envelope in his hand. “Sure, bonnie.” The eerie smile didn’t leave his face, nor did the unflinching stare.

Before you could take it though, he held it out of reach. Your brows furrowed as you looked at him in confusion. The tired, gaunt look in his face only seemed to deepen with the shadows as John leaned forwards, closing in on your personal space. Your hackles practically raised as you bristled, shuffling back a step that caused you to bump into the wall. The rattle of the frame was the only noise for those tense moments.

He didn't lean in nor did he cage you with his body, but you felt trapped, cornered, as he sighed. “You have every right to run and never speak of this again. But…” There always was a but, for fucks sake. Why couldn't he just pay you and let you leave?

You wanted to curse him out or at least do something vindictive and petty, and oh how you wanted to run. Yet you hesitated. For some, stupid reason you hesitated. The sheer tiredness etched all over his very being as he held your gaze tugged at something deep within you. He swallowed, forcing the smile to linger as much as he could.

“I need someone who won't ask questions. Someone who can help.”

Someone like you.

The silence between you spanned all too long as you simply stared, unsure of what to say or do. You didn't know exactly what he was asking you but you knew all the same. It has something to do with the thing in there. The thing he wasn’t outright acknowledging. The thing that both of you didn't dare say a word about but were talking about all the same.

“I'll pay you well. Name your number, I’ll have it. Please…” The last uttered syllable and the near pathetic look he gave you carved a like deeper into your heart than you care to admit.

Every word that fell from his lips was breathed out like a desperate prayer, a cry for help in a world that otherwise might not hear it. He was a man at wits end, a man who had no where else to turn. A man asking something of a stranger because there was no one else to ask.

It was your turn to study him as you held your breath, unable to tear your eyes away from the pitiful sight. The exhaustion radiating from him went beyond skin deep, deeper than the silvers of scars that littered his face. It set in his bones, the slight slump in his posture, ate away at all that he was, and consumed him in such a way he couldn’t hold the smile anymore nor did he bother to. The desperation was palpable as he glanced up at the picture, the only one there, once more for a second, before dropping his attention back to you and uttered a word so soft, it fell barely above a trembling whisper.

"Please."

You should've said no and run out. You should've put this nightmare behind you and never thought about the creature again. You should've told him he's utterly insane, especially to send you back to that thing and to ask you for help. You really should have. But since when did you make good choices?

When your eyes met his, you didn't say a word. But a simple barely-there nod cemented your fate and spoke more than any words ever could have.

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The second the front door slammed shut as the new-found help hurried off in a scamper, Johnny collapsed onto the nearest chair. The littlest part of his heart left intact ached, feeling a bit bad for scaring the poor thing but the line of normality had long ago faded in the sands of time for him. There was no normal for a man damned by fate itself.

His chest heaved with shuddering, raspy breaths as his eyes misted. The weight of the world pressed down onto his shoulders for so long that he forgot what it was like to have an ounce of it lifted and replaced with a glimmer of hope. Hope. A word that tasted foreign on his tongue after it had evaded his clawing grasp for so long that he couldn't even remember the last time he had felt such a thing, always taunting him on the horizon of his periphery so close yet so far away.

His all too exhausted gaze went right back to the only picture on the wall - the very thing that haunted him every night but kept him going all the same. It always stood as a stark reminder of what had been, what should have been, and what he still should've had. As much as it ripped him apart, sent a harsh pang through his soul and plunged him into the icy depths of despair every time he thought about it, he couldn't forget. He couldn't let it go. Not when it's all he had.

For so long, he has clung to those desperate memories that still remained fresh in his tormented mind. Though faces changed and faded with time, though the words blurred, they never did when it came to the person who had understood him the most.

The person who he trusted with his life.

The person who he had failed.

Johnny didn't bother to wipe the tears that slid down his face. The crystalline drops marred his roughened, unkempt features even further. His chest heaved as he took a shuddering breath, blinking away enough tears to see the picture clearly; to see the man that he had lost.

He couldn't save Simon then. But now...

It's like the lights of heaven finally graced him for once. This was it. A second chance, the very thing he prayed for hours upon hours each night until his knees bruised on the wooden floors and his joints ached.

He was still alive in a way that mattered. And that was good enough for a man grasping at straws who had long ago given up any logical thought or reason. Such things didn't matter in manners of the heart and soul. The gaping maw of desperation and grief had swallowed him whole, torn him apart with its razor sharp teeth, and drowned him in the acids of madness before spitting him back up to wither away and rot.

But Johnny was a fighter. Nothing would stop him. Not even a challenge larger than life standing in the way with its scythe drawn and poised, ready for harvest.

Nothing.

"We'll have you back home, Simon." He breathed out to the portrait in a broken rasp, fingers rubbing over the tranished cross dangling from his neck.

"I promise."

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Part two! I'm honestly so grateful and overwhelmed by how many people liked my little drabble, I hadn't expected much from my silly idea. I'm turning it into a series with many more chapters ahead!

Any feedback is welcome, appreciated, and encouraged. Thank you all so so much 😭

Next chapter we'll be back with our boy!

144 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months

Note

Hi! Have you seen the new Mickey Mouse Rebrushed trailer??? Twitter is goin crazy over it and how it’s related to twst 😭 just wanted to hear your thoughts on it

I did spot quite a few parallels with TWST from the Rebrushed trailer! I'm not familiar with Epic Mickey at all, so I'll just be commenting on what I noticed right away. You'll have to excuse my limited knowledge.

Firstly!! This design of Mickey is the exact same as the one we see in TWST. Most noticeable is his white face, which is a fleshy peach color in most modern iterations.

Mickey is reading Alice in Wonderland’s sequel, Through the Looking Glass. Of course, Twisted Wonderland has Wonderland in its title, and even opens with an Alice in Wonderland inspired dorm. Yuu and Mickey also connect via their dreams and through the mirror shared in their rooms.

The theme of dreams is very present and upfront here; Mickey wakes up from sleeping and then creeps to his mirror, which appears to be a portal into another world. Hmm... dreams, mirrors, and traveling to other worlds, now what does that remind you of? You'll also notice that Mickey's room is the exact same as Yuu's room in Ramshackle, right down to the "inverted" room that appears when Mickey passes through the mirror. Everything up until this point is very similar to what is depicted in the 1936 short, Thru the Mirror.

Next, Mickey spies on a wizard carefully using a magic paintbrush over what seems to be a diorama of a bunch of buildings on a plot of land. When the wizard leaves, Mickey fiddles with the paintbrush, causes a mess, and calls forth some kind of black ink monster with green light coming from within it. This seems to be a very close parallel to Overblots, particularly since the most recent OB has a signature neon green color. If we really are to connect Epic Mickey to TWST, this scene also seems to allude that Yuu, Mickey, and/or the "wizard" have parts to play in bringing these Overblots to life. And who do we know that is a powerful wizard that is aware of the corrupting power of blot and runs a large chunk of land... say, a campus? Crowley. This goes hand-in-hand with the theory that Crowley is intentionally allowing these OBs to happen or is even puppeteering his students into OBing.

I find this visual in particular to be very ominous; again, we have the colors that match a certain OB dragon fae but also the map itself reminds me of Twisted Wonderland's and the eerie visual of Malleus's thorns digging into Sage's Island and aiming to go way beyond it.

Anyway, the ink monster is temporarily contained while Mickey returns to his own world. We then get a montage of various Mickey media passing by, as well as a lot of imagery that would imply the passage of time (clocks, the date on the calendar changing, etc.). So... what? Is that implying not only parallel worlds, but also a time skip? Or maybe a time... loop? Like time loop theory???

The ink monster somehow eventually escapes and makes it to Mickey's world, with the blot dripping from the ceiling waking Mickey up from his sleep. It drags Mickey away into a hole drenched in ink. Kind of foreboding when you realize Yuu has also had prophetic dreams... Not of OBs, but of the events leading up to them. And being dragged away into an inky... opening? Like an... abyss? Like book 7, Ruler of the ABYSS?

That's how the trailer concludes!! Gotta say, there's definitely a lot of shared elements between this and TWST. If I recall correctly, Epic Mickey was a game that existed on the Wii waaay before TWST. It even has largely the same cinematic trailer (just with older graphics), so to me it feels like TWST probably took inspiration from Epic Mickey rather than the other way around. There are definitely too many parallels for it to be a coincidence. If that's the case, then we can probably pull some hints for what awaits us in the rest of book 7 from these cinematics. (This is a video comparing the two side-by-side if you think that might be of use!)

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #epic mickey #epic mickey rebrushed #question #notes from the writing raven #Mickey Mouse #Alice in Wonderland #Yuu #Dire Crowley #Malleus Draconia #spoilers #twst theory #twisted wonderland theory #twst theories #twisted wonderland theories #Thru the Mirror

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twisted-wonderland-but-gayer · 2 years

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Request: Short or Long if you want; but the Great 7 reaction to Overblot in this world and their counterparts Overblot?

The Blots vs The Seven

Only did the one available in the en version

Riddle Rosehearts/The Queen of Hearts

Horrific ink-stained roses formed from the strange blot that surrounded Riddle. As he floats up, ink overtakes him, giving him a new form. An ink covered dress went over his usual clothes, a black simmering crown rested on his head, and even more disturbing was the creature that seemed to lurk behind him.

[What is that?] The Queen of Hearts asks, horrified within your head. The ink monster took form, its inky figure taking on the likeness of the queen within your head. Its inky dress was patchy and its head was replaced with a glass heart, filled with a black substance. You swallowed and held your ground, getting into position to dodge an attack Riddle and that strange monster would throw at you.

You could feel the Queen of Hearts rage build within you, before disgust overtook. [What a horrific mockery of me!] The queen yells within your mind. [Rose, destroy it at once!] She commands, and then with a softer voice she whispers under her breath. [But be careful]

Leona Kingscholar/Scar

[Be prepared, cub] Scar snarled in your head as he glared at the sight in front of you, ink encompassing Leona and engulfing him whole before he emerged. With him a four-legged inky monster hovered around him before standing to the side of him.

It’s tail flickered side to side as the lionesque screature let out a shriek. [And strike him down.] Scars voice was eerily calm, his face showed pure focus and nothing more. You couldn’t help but obey as the cackle of hyenas in your head laughed maniacally as they emerged, ready to fight with you.

Azul Ashengrotto/Ursula and the Eels

Ursula's face dropped at the sight. [Careful Angelfish, a cornered octomer can become quite dangerous…] You know she must be speaking from experience by the tone of her voice. [Boss! He’s transforming!] The eels whispered

Before your eyes, the man emerged from ink, tendrils swaying in a deadly rhythm. Behind him, another Octomer emerged, warped, and twisted into the image of your mother. The seven whispered amongst themselves as the creature lifted its trident. [That's it, get ready boys, were taking this thing down.]

Jamil Viper/Jafar

“I WILL BE FREE!” You pitied Jamil as he blotted. He was absolutely right for it too. He did deserve to be free, to no longer serve Kalim. What was terrifying is how absolutely right he was. Even more terrifying is how similar his story was to your fathers. Should you… Should you let him win? [No, child.] Jafar speaks in your mind. [He will die in this state.]

You could only stare as he transformed into a form eerily similar to you father, along with a new monster emerging from behind dressed exactly like him, the only difference being the inky bottle that makes up its head. [Defeat him, diamond. And free him.]

Vil Shoenheit/Queen Grimhilde.

[Is that supposed to be… me?] The feminine voice sneered with disdain. The beautiful man before you floated amongst the ink that surrounded him, the monster behind him holding him up as it snarled at you.

[What a mockery!] The Evil Queen spoke coldly as she stared down the beast that was nearly an exact clone of her body, with a terribly warped face. [Child, I demand you destroy them at once for their insolence!] She tutted, [And because they dare to threaten you as well…]

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto #riddle rosehearts #the great 7 parents #jamil viper #vil shoenheit #leona kingscholar

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imminent-danger-came · 1 year

Text

A "MK is Related to the Underworld Somehow. Probably." List With Commentary (And I Consider it Evidence for EAMK)

(1x08 Skeleton Key)

(LIKE CAN I PLEASE HAVE AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS SCENE. CAN I PLEASE HAVE AN EXPLANATION??? WHAT. WHY. WHY WOULD YOU EVEN GIVE HIM THE KEY IN THE FIRST PLACE.)

(1x08 Skeleton Key)

(Idiot boy putting the skeleton key in his ear.)

(2x03 Pig Pong Panic)

(MK + Bones. Never a good sign)

(2x05 Minor Scale)

(Is this perhaps just LBD trying to take control of MK? Maybe. Is it also really weird how her powers interact with MK in general? For sure!)

(2x06 Game on)

(2x07 Shadow Play)

(Number one: The Lady Bone Demon wasn't here to provoke this, number two: MK using "blue vision" to see his friend's fate inside the lantern is equally strange!)

(2x09 72 Transformations)

(Again, could very well be LBD trying to take control of MK here—however, it doesn't seem like she's trying to do much of anything to MK in this scene, as she's focused on spider queen. So it weirds me out and goes into this post!)

(3x03 Smartie Kid)

(So, if the stuff in s2 was LBD affecting MK then I get it. BUT THEN WHY HAVE MORE BLUE EYES IN S3 AFTER LBD HAS ALREADY "TAKEN" MK'S POWERS AND THE STAFF. Genuinely want to know what this was meant to imply.)

(3x12 The Corrupted King)

(LBD HAS ALREADY POSSESSED WUKONG HERE. Wukong and the Mech alone was spreading her too thin. She certainly wasn't attempting to posses MK here—so what was happening?)

(4x01 Familiar Tales)

(The scroll ink touches MK not once, but twice this episode and it doesn't ensnare MK. The scroll touches Monkey King once and this is what happens to him: )

(4x02 Familiar Tales)

(The scroll's ink emanates from MK, which I thought was crazy at first BUT IT THEN HAPPENS AGAIN IN 4x11)

(4x03 The Great Tang Man)

(Soooo we see a vision of an all inked up MK, then we see the stone cracking, then we see a shot of the curse from 4x02, and THEN MK turns Tang Sanzang's golden power blue, a color associated with both LBD and the underworld in general. HM.)

(4x06 Show Me the Monster)

(There's no hair flip so it's not MK, so it would make me think that this is an ink version of SWK next to the stone. It's weird so I'm including it!)

(4x06 Show Me the Monster)

(So. Ink blotting out the sun, something MK/SWK are often associated with, and then pouring out of the cracked stone, which we just learned MK was born from. And then the curse takes MK's form. I'm tripping over my own conspiracy board here.)

MK: "You're not my friend—you're NOT me!" Curse MK: "Sure I am! I'm your best friend, well, closest at least! I know more about you than you'll even admit—to yourself, or to others."

(4x07 Pitiful Creatures)

(The curse claiming it's a part of MK is weird! The curse looking like MK in it's most weakened state is also weird! It's all weird!)

(4x08 The Brotherhood)

(Absolutely no reason for a weird teal smudge to be there, and yet)

(4x11 A Lifetime of Mistakes)

(BOOM. SCROLL EMANATING FROM MK AGAIN.)

(4x11 A Lifetime of Mistakes)

(The broken memories flickering in the scroll are very similar to the way MK flickers in and out of monkey form: )

(4x13 Rip and Tear)

(Scroll ink touches MK again and he does not become imprisoned inside it again. The scroll at the very least has no affect on the boy)

And I think for now that wraps up this post!

#sincerely think MK is related to the underworld/is some sort of fucked up memory based creature #''Now I will undo the memories of this world'' hmm. Will you LBD? AND IF MK WAS YOUR ORIGINAL POWER SOURCE—I'M JUST SAYING #getting this post out before the tdp s5 trailer which I know will ruin me #Look I know the red string is strong here. But that's okay.#Sometimes you just gotta throw shit at a wall and see what sticks.#Let's play the game of ''am I noticing purposeful details'' or ''am I just overthinking it''#The game I play everyday #BUT. This would all play into eamk (eldritch abomination MK) let me tell you #And now he's like. A weird power soup with both SWK's powers and whatever other powers from the underworld/scroll #lmk #lmk MK #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #lmk theory #eamk theory

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yuurei20 · 1 year

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Short Translation from Twst the 2nd novel: The Transformation

"‘It is you who should be silent!’ Lilia shouts. ‘Face the truth. Even if you were to defeat Malleus, if you do not understand what Riddle is telling you, then you can never become a true king!’

All at once, Leona’s expression has gone blank.

‘Leona-senpai…?’ Jack gives a faint whimper, his pupils dilating. Something has frightened him.

‘That's right. I think you’re right. It’s exactly as you say.’ Leona murmurs, bereft of emotion.

As his once intense anger fades, his natural beauty becomes more prominent.

His expressionless demeanor is like a sculpture. But it is eerily unsettling.

‘I can never become a king, no matter how hard I try…’

Something is tugging at Yuuya's leg, and he looks down to see Grim clutching at his pants.

‘What's wrong?’

‘This is bad—real bad…!’ Before Yuuya can ask him why, a confused Riddle calls out, ‘What’s happening? Leona-senpai’s magical power is suddenly increasing!’

Riddle tightens his grip on the golden scepter in his hands. ’No—at this rate…’

Leona roars with all his might, a deafening howl that has Yuuya covering his ears.

Simultaneously, something bursts.

Shards scatter at Yuuya's feet: the remnants of Riddle’s collar. Before Yuuya is able to touch one to confirm, they have disappeared.

‘Riddle-kun's magic-sealing collar just flew off!?’

‘This is madness. Where did that magical power come from!?’

Cater and Riddle exclaim in surprise, but Leona—breathing deep—does not seem to hear them.

He lifts his head heavily, as if its weight is a burden to him.

'I’ve been hated and rejected since the day I was born, with no place I belonged, or future to live for.’

Leona’s long hair blows about in disarray, his face contorting.

‘That pain and despair…you really think you understand!?’

Leona is crying—at least, that’s what Yuuya thought. But the tears that flow from his left eye are as black as ink, as if absorbing the light. Even wiped away or scratched, the stain refuses to fade from his skin.

‘Is that…blot!?’ Cater gasps, and a chill of fear runs down Yuuya’s spine.

Jack, sensing something is amiss, lunges for Leona. ‘Stop, Leona-senpai!’

Jack and the other Savanaclaw students all move towards Leona, but they are all blown away by a sand-laced whirlwind.

Thrown through the air Jack manages to land on his feet, but the students all around him are slammed soundly onto the ground.

Moans. Bodies buried in sand. Hands reaching out for the sky.

It is like a nightmare.

Fear paralyzes Yuuya. He does not even think to run.

Lilia casts magic of his own, but it is too late for anything now.

The sandstorm surges, scooping up everything in its path and growing even larger.

The blot oozing from Leona's wounds flows out with even more force, staining his face around his eyes pitch black.

It flows along the straight line of red marks on his neck left by Riddle’s collar in a never-ending loop.

The black liquid that has been accumulating in the hollow of his throat then bursts forth, all at once. Solidifying, the liquid blot settles upon his shoulders like a lion's mane.

‘Life is unfair…and I’m going to make every one of you understand that.’ He speaks the words like a curse.

Droplets of darkness form a puddle at his feet, resembling sludge. They are absorbed by the parched ground, and yet they do not dilute in the slightest. Instead, they spread outward like a stain.

Sinister bubbles begin to appear on the surface of the dark liquid. Slowly, at first, and then more vigorously, until soon they are exploding into foam: there is something being born from the blot.

A large and clawed, beast-like paw is first to emerge. Then comes the mane. Ears. Tail.

A terrible roar rips through the air.

In front of the dumbfounded group looms a towering, patchwork lion.

Its entire body is soaked in blot and, just like that monster that appeared with Riddle, there is a glass jar filled with blot where its face should be.

Leona's once golden magestone is now as black as charcoal, and attached to the lid of that glass jar."

↓From later in the scene↓

"The monster is stealing Leona's sanity. Yuuya looks up at Leona and the embodiment of blot that lurks behind him.

Leona's leg is securely bound to the four-legged beast by a length of blot acting like a chain. Cloaked in blot and dragging his leg painfully, Leona resembles an injured lion."

#twstnovel2 #twisted wonderland #twst translations #Leona Kingscholar

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it-happened-one-fic · 9 months

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Ink and Magic - Merchant From the Depths

Author Notes: Part 3 of this sort of halfway non canon compliant what if with the overblots and their aftermath! A lot of what I said for part 1 counts for this section too. This isn't exactly romantic. in fact, I would say it counts as more platonic, but it certainly can be taken as shippy. This will also be a series, though the Diasomnia section won't come out until that entire matter is resolved in game. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Spoilers for Book 3: The Merchant from the Depths!!

[Heartslabyul] [Savanaclaw] [Octavinelle: You're Here!] [Scarabia] [Pomefiore] [Ignihyde] [Diasomnia: To be released]

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fic series/ Can be platonic or romantic/ fluff/ angst/ comfort/ Spoilers for Octavinelle overblot.

Word Count: 1807

I landed on my backside hard, grunting from both the impact and the stinging sensation in my sides from where Azul had just hurled me with his tentacles across what had become a battlefield as soon as he’d overblotted.

The sounds of screaming had me looking up, wide-eyed, to see both Jade and Floyd firing off multiple spells in quick succession at the shrieking octo-merman.

I couldn’t see either of their faces as they blasted relentlessly at Azul’s overblotted form, which released piercing screams and jerked in agony each time a spell connected with either his body or the blot monster that seemed loomed over him.

I suppose that, in the end, it only made sense that it came down to the Leech twins. Moray eels were a natural predator of octopi, after all….

Azul collapsed with a lurching gasp as the twins at last stopped firing, and the blot monster collapsed with a great cry. Spilling ink everywhere and causing the thick black liquid to swirl through what had once been pristine water that surrounded the Octavinelle dorm. I grimaced at how the ink spiraled around like a great, dark snake until, at last, it began to slowly dissipate.

The housewarden let out a quiet whimpering sound, muttering something to himself until his voice rose so that I could at last hear him as he looked up at me, of all people.

His normally pale blue eyes were impossibly bright and shone with bitter tears as the purple flame that was over his right eye flickered out of existence, “I… I just wanted to….”

His voice cracked, and I felt something within me tense, almost like I was the one whose heart was breaking.

I was in motion before hardly anyone else reacted to him slumping forward. Reverting back to a human form as he toppled towards the ground.

My feet dug into the muddy ground, and I could hear the others behind me shouting, their voices mixing and mingling, along with Jade and Floyd’s shouts that were directed at Azul.

Distantly, a small part of me almost begged me to stop. I knew what was going to happen after all. But somehow I found myself focusing, my vision tunneling so that it seemed like Azul was the only thing I could see as I ran forward and towards him.

I felt myself speed up as Azul stared back at me, tears streaking their way, unbidden, down his face, even as his expression grew numb and he succumbed to exhaustion.

Those pale blue eyes of his, the same color as a cold winter sky, flickered shut as he collapsed into my arms, and I sank to the ground with him under the weight of his already limp body. And even as I heard his two close friends continue to call out his name, their voices tinged with something akin to fear mixed with concern, I was immediately exhausted.

But it would be alright. This was the third time I’d done this. So I ignored all of the yelling and shouting around me and surrendered myself to the oblivion of the darkness that would no doubt hold his memories and stories of trauma as I hit my knees was no longer frightening.

And that brief moment of silence was almost peaceful, as that solid blackness enveloped me and dulled all of my senses until I could no longer hear what any of my companions were shouting.

“The only place I ever belonged was inside an octopus pot,” Azul’s voice was calm as it rang out through the darkness that surrounded me, and I didn’t even bother looking for him, even though he sounded like he was right beside me.

Perfectly on cue, the film of his history slowly began to play. Unfolding his life events in front of me, all for him to narrate and explain.

He had been an adorable little chubby child, evidently enough. One that appeared to cry frequently and was generally emotional.

A silly little octo-twerp he called himself, and I immediately recalled him saying those exact words as he was overblotting.

I could only assume from his vehemence then and the events I was seeing now that he had been called that numerous times.

But from what I was seeing here, octopi mermen were not well liked. Why, I couldn’t say…. But his classmates' distaste for him was rather evident as they jeered at his tiny childhood form.

I could now say that Azul had hatched his plot for vengeance on those who mocked him early on in his life. Before he even had met Floyd and Jade.

Despite his resentful nature, which had apparently been present even when he was a child, I couldn’t keep the smile from my face as younger versions of the twins swam into view with brightly sparkling mismatched eyes as they greeted him. And it didn’t take long before it was obvious that the three were going to be sticking together.

“Octy here’s pretty funny, Jade.”

“I agree, Floyd. He’s quite fascinating.”

It was the first time I’d actually seen the tiny Azul actually appear to be happy through the course of these memories, and it immediately made me wonder exactly how close the three young men were.

They all seemed to prefer to view their relationship as one where they could slip apart at any moment, but from what I saw here in his memories and judging from Floyd and Jade’s immediate and concerned reaction as they had left to return to Azul as soon as the anemones had disappeared from Ace, Deuce, and Grim’s heads, I suspected they were far closer than they let on.

As I continued to watch the film of Azul’s past, he sank deeper into his plot as it gave him what he felt he needed. Purpose and strength.

It was saddening that he felt like he could only ever be worthwhile if he attained other’s gifts. Like his own merits weren’t enough on their own.

By the end of the rolling film-like memories, he’d vowed numerous times that he would never be weak again.

“I’ll make everyone who ever mocked me quaver and beg for mercy,” His voice held a determination that was as impressive as it was frightening. And yet, I couldn’t help but admire the amount of resolve Azul had possessed even as a child.

It was true that he’d been beyond wrong to do what he’d done. But it was also true that, just as the others had been, the root of his breakdown ran deep throughout his entire person and life experience.

I opened my eyes, blinking blearily, before I realized I’d slumped down over where Azul rested on my lap, so that my upper body was laying over Azul’s. Almost like I was shielding both him and his memories of his childhood from the world.

I leaned back, slowly pushing myself upright, and I could immediately hear the scrambling of people to reach me.

A steady hand rested on my back as another curved around my wrist, as if they were worried it would give way under the weight of my own still-heavy body.

“How are you feeling?” Deuce’s voice was right near me, close enough that I assumed the hand on my back belonged to him. I nodded in response before glancing over to see Jade Leech, of all people, kneeling down next to me.

My eyes went wide, but he simply ignored me. His gaze staying on where Azul continued to rest with his head on my lap, “What happened?”

His voice was ever calm, and his expression was unreadable, as was his brother’s, whom I could now see standing behind him. One thing I could tell, though, was that they were mystified as to what had just occurred.

“They were helping him through the direct aftermath of the overblot,” Leona answered for me, startling me with how close he actually was.

Looking over, I saw him standing over me, his arms crossed as he frowned down at where I knelt on the still wet ground.

Of those here, he probably understood what had just occurred best. But his words were still confusing. In what way had I helped Azul through a rehashing of his memories?

“So you did the connection thing again?” Ace’s slightly judgmental tone came from behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to make eye contact with the frowning redhead, who held Grim, and beside whom Jack and Ruggie stood.

I nodded, finding my head still felt foggy from ‘connecting,’ as he called it, to Azul, “Yeah…. I saw his memories and everything. Just like with Riddle and Leona.” I looked back over as I spoke, making eye contact with Leona, who held my gaze unflinchingly.

I started to straighten a bit more before immediately regretting that decision as a shooting pain went through my waist. I let out a pained grunt, and I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder, “Careful, you got hurt pretty badly in the fight when Azul grabbed you…”

Jack’s tone was firm, but the concern there was obvious, making me wonder exactly what my side looked like.

“Bad, how?”

None of my friends actually responded to my worried question. Instead, it was Floyd answered, “Azul squeezed you pretty tight, and what with his suckers….”

He trailed off in a distinctly ominous fashion that had me going tense until Leona finished what Floyd had started with a huff, “I fixed the worst of it, but you’ll still need to go to the infirmary.”

I twisted again to thank him, but froze when Azul let out a groan. The arms he’d thrown loosely around my waist tightened reflexively, causing me to stiffen slightly before his hold loosened once more and his eyes opened.

He blinked once and then twice before slowly looking up, “Prefect….?”

I smiled slightly at him, hardly able to help myself. There was something about having seen each of the overblot victims' memories that made it hard for me to stay upset with them.

Plus there was the fact that he’d been an awfully cute child……

He slowly sat up, his expression growing wary, “What happened?”

And so followed the lengthy explanation, including the awkward parts of me explaining that I saw his memories and heard his thoughts, which naturally led to the tweels teasing a rather flustered Azul.

At this point, I was getting more used to the aftermath of the overblots. But a part of me was still incredibly concerned about why, exactly, I felt the intense need to catch each victim in the overblot fallout and why I saw their memories and thoughts.

Even as I could feel Azul's gaze on me, I couldn’t deny that Ace might be right to be concerned about my connecting with them….

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junowritings · 1 year

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Hi friend, I hope I'm not bothering you. I stumbled across your twisted wonderland writings a little bit ago and fell in love with them. They're so good! I was wondering if you could do an angst comfort imagine with Jamil or Kalim where MC overblots? In game, Crowley piles so much work on poor MC, along with MC being the college's resident problem solver, and some of the students have called them worthless due to their inability to cast magic. I was wondering if you could play around with that idea? Regardless, thank you for doing what you do! Hope you have a lovely day.

Hiyya friend thank you for the love <3 I'm glad you've been having fun with these~! I'll admit this started off as a little thing but then the overblot brainrot kicked in thinking about the effects of blot on a non magic user and it spiraled from there lmao. Please do enjoy this though I had a bunch of fun giving my Scarabia boys some love,even if it is filled with angst!

The realization of what’s happening comes too late, as it always does.

Eyes have been everywhere, watching your every move since you clawed your way from that coffin into this twisted wonderland. And each of them have expected something from you, saw fit to use you and take advantage of your situation for their own gains. Making yourself useful seemed to be the only way you could earn any modicum of respect, and so the pressure mounted and mounted as every day saw you taking on more responsibilities than you could handle. But you’d been so hopeful that it wouldn’t be that way forever - things would get easier, and you only needed to put up with the pressure until you got home; Crowley promised you that the day you enrolled at the school, and he wouldn’t lie when he was the only one capable of making that a reality, right?Right?

You should never have believed him; maybe that would have saved you.

This shouldn’t have been possible; with no magic to your name or even a magical presence to call your own the thought of you of all people overblotting was laughable, some cruel joke that was humored for the few seconds before you were deemed magicless, and thus no longer a concern. And yet the impossible pools at your feet and clings to your skin and clothes like a parasite as your brain spirals into a frenzy. All you can think about is what they’ve done to you, what they made you do. You were so useless to all of these people until you had some kind of purpose to serve, was that it? Running their errands; being a personal therapist and caretaker to so many dorms when you were still nursing your own wounds; having to take care of everyone else's problems only to return to your dilapidated corpse of a dorm at the end of the day.

Perhaps it’s the stress, the mental fatigue drawing in all of that leftover magical waste with nowhere to go that accumulated the blot, allowing it to take root after months of being subjected to the worst that magic could do. It’s there which it festered until the pressure became too great, until it now seeps through your bones, your eyes, your fingertips in thick, viscous globs of ink for all to see. And from that blot comes the monster, a patchwork mockery of all of those overblots you’ve dealt with before taking shape of your deepest insecurities and regrets; and your own despondent sobs are drowned out by the screams of its birth as it rises to its full height, writhing and looming overhead.

But it’s imperfect; with no stable magic source to siphon its energy from the blotted creature latched onto you fights only to stay alive. The noises it releases are distorted, a hollow rattle that has the students taking an unconscious step back as a chill settles in the air. Many were smart enough to flee, yet there are those that stay, either foolish or frozen in fear at the sight in front of them.

You’re conscious, barely, the remaining dregs fading in and out of your control as your eyes, half blinded by the inky mass that pours from the blotted thing above you scans the sea of horrified faces. Friends, dormmates, and finally….

…Jamil

♡ Jamil feels the rush of students tripping over themselves to flee, can hear the screams of people too confused or too terrified to understand the impossibility of the situation, but his focus is trained solely on you and the thing that leeches off of you to stay alive. He watches it twist, heaving ink as it takes a defensive stance ready to attack anything that tries to get in its way. Your friends around you all make vain attempts to reach out to you; Ace and Deuce are frantically screaming out for you as they bat away an onslaught of inky limbs, and Grim gets close enough to barely brush your shoulder with his paw before the frantic swipe of the creature nearly sends him careening back in a torn mess had Jack not yanked him back to safety.

♡ For that moment he takes in the scene unfolding in front of him, watching the person who has fought to earn his respect and gain his trust being taken over by the flood of bottled up emotions preyed upon by the blot, and it hits him. Is this what you’d seen during his overblot? Is this how you felt seeing the person you cared for being reduced to a shadow of their deepest hatred and pains? If he closes his eyes he can vaguely recall the horrified look on your face in the muddled memories from his own overblot, but there’s no time to dwell, no time to panic, or scream, or cry when the most important thing is separating you from the blot and making sure you survive. And so he takes a steadying breath, steeling his resolve and shelving his emotions until you’re freed.

♡ Your friends are already mounting an offensive against the overblot and Jamil is right there in stride acting as a defensive force for those better equipped to attack. Each hit has the beast screaming, chunk by chunk being wrested away from its patchwork frame that’s barely holding itself together as is. Your screams echo along with it, only making the fight harder as hesitation hits your friends, Jamil himself almost making the mistake of stepping towards you before catching himself and refocusing on the fight at hand.

♡ He’d caught glimpses of the strain your situation had forced you under, he’d be a fool not to have noticed the pressure you’d been settled with. He knows the pressure well, having to play the part and live your life restricted by the whims of others. And yet every time he’d reached out to you, pulled you to the side away from prying eyes you’d only smiled and told him that you were fine, even if the sallow eyes and the constant tremble in your hands screamed otherwise. Jamil should have never taken you at your word, so sure that if whatever you were dealing with became overwhelming you would open up to someone - open up to him - before it was too much. Who could have ever imagined that it would get to this point? Jamil feels a sickness welling in the pit of his stomach just thinking about it, and the momentary lapse in attention nearly costs him a limb as a writhing hand slams down at his side when the overblot monster lunges forward, warbled voice screaming “-𝔸𝕎𝔸𝕐...𝔾𝔼𝕋 𝔸𝕎𝔸𝕐-!” again and again.

♡ Your overblot fights harder than anything they’ve faced before, even as the half formed twitching mass of energy that it is. Like an animal caged and surrounded it’s got no qualms pulling every ounce of power it can muster to ensure its survival even if it means turning you into little more than a husk. All it takes is watching you crumble, heaving and choking on some invisible force that saps everything from you for everything to finally snap. Whatever strength the creature pulls from you isn’t enough to keep it standing, and no sooner have you dropped the blot caves in on itself, still reaching out to you for more even in its final moments. In the wake of its dissipation the air is thick with an unspoken pressure, and the remaining students even torn up and bruised all make a beeline for your crumpled body, surrounding you in a wall of frantic calls of your name.

♡There’s a lump in his throat as Jamil approaches the crowd, elbowing his way between Ace and Deuce kneeling before you. His breathing all but stops at the glimpses he catches of you among the hands cradling you, body limp as the remaining blot flakes from your skin and turns to whisps. Those seconds last for an eternity, bated breaths unwilling to ask the question that’s burning on everyone’s tongue.

♡Are you…?

♡The next moment you’re gasping for air, rocketing up and narrowly missing headbutting the vice dormhead as you all but throw yourself up to retch. You miss the collective breath that everyone releases as the world starts to turn once again, relief flooding the atmosphere now that the imminent danger has passed. Someone mentions making sure you’re taken to the infirmary and Jamil can practically see the cogs turning in your head as you panic, finally coming back to your senses. You insist that you can take yourself there, scrambling groggily to your feet and shaking away the mass of hands supporting you only to immediately buckle the second your feet touch the floor.

♡How lucky you are that Jamil catches you before you fall, one arm firmly gripping your elbow and the other pressed against your back to make sure you don’t try getting away on your own again. Surprisingly you don’t argue, in fact you hardly even say a word as Jamil whisks you away from the crowd; the silence is only broken on the walk there when Jamil has to stop you from nearly bucking again. You’re gripping his jacket for support when you ask “Did I hurt them?” focused on your hand wrapped into the fabric and not willing to look at him. There’s a pause, and Jamil watches your knuckles turning pale from your grip like you’re afraid of the answer. “It takes more than that to hurt any of those guys;They’ll be fine.”

♡ Whether it’s the answer you wanted or not your grip loosens on his jacket but never truly lets go the entire walk there even as the infirmary sign comes into view around the corner. There’s no saying what effect the overblot had on you both physically and mentally, so the staff are on high alert as soon as you’re led into the infirmary. The nurse tries to take you off of his hands but you’re still holding onto Jamil for support and he’s quick to take the lead in getting you onto the bed so you can finally be seen to.

♡Jamil only allows the gravity of the situation to hit him once you’re in the capable hands of NRC medical staff, giving you some space to recover without being hounded by people as he tries to collect his thoughts. A part of him wants to stay there with you, especially with the way you’re so reluctant to let go of him during the initial checkup, but you’re drained both physically and mentally and need time to rest, and he needs to start picking up the pieces of the aftermath.

♡ The work keeps Jamil’s mind occupied, and provides a welcome buffer to the what ifs that are already beginning to creep in. But the moment he’s given a moment to finally rest it’s like all his energy’s been drained, using the nearest surface to keep himself upright as the events of the day finally fully sink in. You’ll live but all he can think about is what if you hadn’t; those few seconds where you weren’t moving, repeating over again and again. It’s an image that’s burned into his brain no matter how much he loathes having it there, and it forces his feet to move without thinking, heading straight back to the infirmary where he’d left you. Jamil needs to see that you’re really there, that you’re really safe in that bed and not taken whole by that creature again, and it’s something he finds himself doing long afterwards if only to set his own nerves at ease.

…Kalim

♡ Kalim is horrified to see what’s happening to you, watching the creature that rises from your barely standing form like it’s tearing itself free from your very shadow. For a split second it’s as though he’s back at Scarabia watching his childhood friend overcome the overblot and change right before his eyes. That familiar chill of fear that he’s hoped to never have to experience again hits him square in the chest and his entire body goes cold as the reality of the situation settles with the wheezing howl that the overblot creature lets loose into the air.

♡ Even though he can see it with his own eyes it’s almost impossible to come to terms with the fact that this is you. The one who always went out of your way to help people, who was so kind and there for everyone to help deal with their problems with hardly ever a thanks in return - there’s no way that the trembling, half coherent body looking out at the world with nothing but hatred burning behind ink stained eyes is really you. But it is, and there’s a beat, a split second where your eyes meet his and that anger flickers to grief, a lapse of the real you looking back at him before the hatred consumes you once again.

♡ It’s hard to think straight, and Kalim’s got little concern for his own safety as he joins Ace, Deuce and Grim in trying to reach out to you however pointless it may seem. He has to reach you, has to get to you somehow to make sure that you’re safe and get you away from that thing; he has to-!

♡ There’s a whoosh of air barely inches from his face, and Kalim only has a second to process the mangled claw that makes a swipe for him before there’s a hand winding into the back of his clothes , pulling him back into the dirt before those claws can bury themselves into his skull. It's enough to shock him back into the present moment, only now hearing the panicked voices of his friends and classmates as the chaos unfolds; there’s others here, and every single one of them is in danger the longer that this overblot is free to wreak havoc onto its new domain.

♡He hesitates to fight you - he just can’t bring himself to do anything that risks hurting you even though he knows that standing by and doing nothing it’s only going to make the problem worse. So he calls out to you, shouting your name with a near frantic desperation begging you to come to your senses even as the creature you’ve summoned continues it’s assault, gouging into the earth in its attempts to get at him with half formed joints. His cries are drowned out by the overblot monster’s screams, garbled words sounding like white noise ringing in the air only ever cut off when a sudden blast of magic from behind Kalim has the beast reeling.

♡Your friends round up to make a wall effectively creating a barrier between it and the students, their faces grave as they realize what it’s going to take to make sure everyone gets out of this situation alive. The last thing he sees before they close in is you, the blot still dripping down your face as you let out an enraged scream, the months of bottled up emotions sending goosebumps up Kalims skin before you disappear back into the overblot’s hold.

♡Hesitating will only result in you getting more hurt, so Kalim tries to pour his focus onto helping elsewhere. Hoisting himself to his feet he takes charge in making sure that everyone not directly involved in the fight has a clear path to get to safety, ensuring that the debris scattering through the air never has a chance of hitting any of the students and causing more damage. All the while he’s fighting not to be distracted by the sounds of fighting - the gurgling of the overblot, the shouts of everyone co-ordinating together and struggling to turn the tide of the fight. He can’t allow himself to think too hard about what’s happening to you; the people he’s helping are looking to him as dorm leader to keep them safe and get them out of there, and if he thinks about it for too long he knows he’s going to slip up and someone’s going to end up hurt or worse.

♡ A bloodcurdling howl brings everything to a standstill, and all at once something snaps in the air, the pressure on the back of Kalim’s skull dissipating as the blot that has soaked into every corner of the area breaks apart and disappears, no longer held together by magic. That means only one thing, and Kalim immediately drops everything that he’s doing to get back to where you are. The terrain is a mess and he trips up more than a few times on the huge chunks torn out of the earth beneath his feet as he grows more desperate to see you, to get to you.

♡His heart drops into his stomach once he finds you through the sea of people who were fighting you not moments before, now crowded around you in a protective circle. You’re curled up on yourself, unresponsive and Kalim immediately sinks down onto his knees in front of you, not caring for the last broken pieces of the overblot that try to claw at legs for purchase even as it sinks back into the mindless puddle of waste it came from. Hands trembling, Kalim holds you as close to him as he can, wide eyes scanning your face for any sign of reaction, a sign that you’re back. The time stretches on and he feels his throat burn the longer you go without waking up; he’s here, calling your name over and over again, can’t you hear him? It’s okay to wake up now, everyone’s safe! You're okay right?... right?!

♡A groan cuts his thinking off, and there’s no holding back the sob he almost chokes on when you finally come to. You’re blinking away the haze that’s making your head pound and finally make out his face, caked in mud and debris and smeared with stark tear tracks as he cries. You bring a hand up to try and wipe away the tears and grime but that only makes him cry harder, though you don’t have time to feel bad before he’s pulling you even closer, pressing your face against his shoulder and wrapping his arms around you so tight that your ribs groan in protest. It’s not like you have the heart to push him away though - you’re so tired and drained and all you can think about is how glad you are that he’s here as you zone in and out of him gushing about how he’s so glad that you’re going to be okay.

♡Kalim refuses to let you go even as the others begin to crowd around to check on you for themselves; now that this is all over the last thing he wants to do is leave you on your own again much to the frustration of Grim and your other friends. It takes Jamil stepping in and none too subtly warning him that there’s a chance you’re still suffering from complications unless you get to a nurse and find out for sure before he relents, but even then he’s going right with you to the infirmary, taking a seat right next to the bed you’re propped up in and holding your hand and supporting you through the entire checkup.

♡All he can focus on is how tired you look, the exhaustion palpable now that the blot has washed away from your skin and clothes. He knows that it isn’t from the blot though; Kalim may be naive but he knows you were suffering before the overblot overwhelmed you. He’d tried so hard to help - offered you to stay at Scarabia any time you needed a break, insisted that you could always rely on him for anything, to tell him anything, just say it and he’ll be there! And yet it wasn’t enough to save you from all of this, and he can’t help but feel guilty that he couldn’t help you when you needed him the most…♡ You have to convince him not to call in the best doctors from back home just to come and see you the second the nurses are finished with their tests, insisting that he really doesn’t need to go that far despite his protests that he wants to make sure that you’re really okay. He’s already rattling off about how things are going to be better once you’re all healed up - he’ll come to see you everyday, of course, and he’ll make sure to bring plenty of things to keep you happy so that you can focus on resting and feeling better! It’s almost enough to forget the fact that everything that happened wasn’t just some dream your stress addled mind conjured up; however, even so exhausted you don’t miss the concern hiding behind his seemingly carefree smile, grip on your hand squeezing every once in a while as though to reassure himself that you’re both still here - he hasn’t lost you yet.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #scarabia #kalim x reader #kalim al asim x reader #twst kalim #twst jamil #jamil x reader #imagines #twst imagines #twst overblot #angst #no one's having a good time here #but at least everyone's alive for now lmao #it's midnight so there's more than a few mistakes but i love this thank you for the request mwah

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