Briarvalleyarchives - Tumblr Posts

Morning Kisses

Twisted Wonderland

You spend a quiet morning in with Malleus.

Word Count: 287

Characters: Malleus Draconia x Gender Neutral Reader

Tags: Gender Neutral Reader, “you” pronouns for reader, lots of butterfly kisses, domestic fluff

When you woke this morning, it was to the gentle thrum of rain against your window and the warmth of Malleus’s head carefully nestled in the crook of your neck. His arms were wrapped around you securely, just as they had been last night when the two of you had fallen asleep talking about the ruins he’d taken you to on a date. His face was peaceful in sleep, unmarred by any worry. With his hair mussed from being pressed against you, you could see a hint of the crest marks upon his forehead.

“Mal,” you called softly.

He hums in response, which could vaguely be called an acknowledgment.

“Let’s get up. It’s breakfast time,” you nudge, but he grumbles, the half-hearted growl muffled by him cuddling closer to you.

“I’ll make you coffee,” you bribe, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of his face.

He lazily opens one eye to look up at you, considering for a long moment your offer. Then he shifts up on one arm, as if to get up, before he smiles mischievously and pulls you close to pepper your face with feather light, fleeting kisses.

“C’mon, Malleus, I’m hungry!” you manage to say in between giggles, making no effort to fend off the kisses he leaves on your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids, the tip of your nose.

“Morning kisses are always a must before breakfast,” he reminds you, leaving another decisive kiss upon your forehead before making no further effort to move, smile utterly besotted as he looks down at you. Sighing out a fond laugh, you cup his face and leisurely sit up to pepper his face with your own butterfly kisses, smiling contentedly the whole while.

Likes and reblogs are loved and appreciated!

A New Beginning

Twisted Wonderland

Deuce overheard his mom speaking on the phone to his grandmother one night. Her words that night play in his head over and over again.

Word Count: 1842 ✯ AO3 Version

Characters: Deuce Spade, Deuce’s mom

Tags: Character Study, Light Angst, Minor Story Spoilers for cards and main story details to pertain to Deuce’s backstory, a few lines of dialogue lifted directly from main story

(A/N): This is my event entry for the prompt “New Beginnings” by @briarvalleyarchives ! I am…not very creative with titles…I hope you enjoy this short piece on Deuce and a brief look into his life before he would have received his letter from NRC.

“All I ever did in middle school was screw around… I was a terrible person that went as far as to use magic to lord over those who couldn’t.

Then, one night…I saw my mom hiding away tears as she called my grandma.

‘Was the way I raised him wrong?’

Even though none of it was her fault…

I swore that I would never make her cry again.”

Deuce slouched at his desk as he stared blearily ahead at the whiteboard, the writing on the board some assignment or other he couldn’t be bothered to focus on reading right now. The chatter of his classmates, whispering amongst themselves about his presence in the room, was nothing but a buzz of white noise as he mulled over the conversation he’d overheard his mom having with his grandma on the phone last night.

“Is it my fault for not being there for him more?” she’d all but sobbed into the phone.

“Tch.”

He scowled at the memory, scoffing at the classmates that flinched away from his glare. Exhaling and forcing his face to relax, he turned his back on them to stare out the window and watch the clouds, like his mom had taught him to when he got too irritated to contain it.

“Was the way I raised him wrong?”

He forced his jaw to unclench as the morning bell rang, forcefully focusing on the clouds while the teacher called roll.

“And now Spade, who - huh? Spade? You’re here today?”

He glanced over to find his home room teacher slack-jawed, the untrusting stares of his classmates crawling all over him.

“Well,” his teacher coughed, poorly attempting to compose himself, “if even the infamous Deuce Spade of all you failures can bother showing up for once, then maybe there’s hope for the rest of you lot making it to graduation yet.”

Deuce’s hands clenched as he focused on watching the clouds.

“Would it have been better if he had both parents?”

The morning lecture droned on too fast for him to grasp anything well enough to take notes that would make any remote sense. The class work that got passed around, when his classmates even bothered to give him a handout, might as well have been written with instructions done in gibberish.

“I…,” her voice cracked, dropping to such a whisper that Deuce had to strain his ears, “I feel like a stranger to him…I don’t…”

The whispers of his classmates….the whispers of his teachers…whispering, whispering about his presence in class, whispering about his “half-assed notes,” his “piss-poor class work,” whispering “Spade’s here? A fight’s sure to break out soon…”

“I don’t know how to reach him anymore…”

He bolted the minute the lunch bell rang, the patrolling teachers too used to his routine to even bother trying to stop him from jumping the school’s chain link fence. Some students hollered “Good riddance!” after him as he ran. Some of his fellow delinquents cheered and called out to him as he ran.

“I…I don’t want to give up on my baby…”

The voices all faded, one by one, until the only sound was that of his sneakers hitting the pavement and the surf of the sea that bordered town.

“When did I go wrong?”

Running, running, running…

“How did I…get to this point?”

Running, running until he reached the familiar shore on the edge of town that no one bothered visiting because it was more mangrove roots than an actual beach. Running until his knees hit the sand, face staring up at the clouds above as he shouted, “HOW DID I GET HERE?! WHAT AM I - ?!“

His lungs heaved as he slammed his hands down with a shout, sucking in air, “HOW COULD SHE THINK ITS HER FAULT?! I - I’M THE ONE WHO - WHO’S - !”

His fists clenched around sand, squeezing and squeezing until bits of shell and shards of pebbles dug painfully into his palms, a growl of aggravated frustration tearing from his throat as the tide came in and washed the sand out from under his fists and soaked his clothes.

“I don’t want to give up on my baby…”

The fight in him washed away with the receding tide, his shoulders slumping as he allowed himself one sniffle, sitting back on his heels.

“I’m the one who…I’m the one who’s been screwing around…And…And for what? Cuz sitting around in school was lame? Cuz doing projects and festivals was stupid?”

His fists clenched around the sand again, but it was loose and slipped through his fingers quickly in the ebb and flow of the afternoon high tide.

“I don’t understand any of the shit in class now…”

The ebb and flow of the waves nudged at him like a silent friend listening to all his deepest worries, like it always did. The sea never judged him.

“Ugh!” He scrubbed through his hair in a fit of irritation, but the sight of his bleached hair just made him even more agitated. “How could she think…?! I was the one…! I was the one who got a big head when the seniors showed me how to use my magic in a fight! I was the one who got a big head when they called me cool and showed me how to skip class! I was the one who…! Who…!”

His breath hitched as he remembered the ones who would flinch away from him in fear. The ones who would always shout “Good riddance!” whenever he’d leave to skip class for the day. Of the magicless classmates that’d pale if he so much as breathed in their direction. Of the teachers who gave up on him, one by one, and began instead to name him the culprit for every wrong doing he never did anytime something happened in school.

“I don’t want to give up on my son, mom. Don’t you dare say that about Deuce.”

He’d never picked a fight himself. He was in them all the time, sure, but he never actually started them himself. Sure, he looked down on the magic-less, but he never actually hurt anybody. He would never…he wasn’t that kind of person. He didn’t go around harassing people. He didn’t…

“Maybe I went wrong somewhere. Maybe I should have been there for him more. But I…Sevens, why did I call you? I don’t want to give up on my son, mom. Don’t you dare say that about Deuce.”

He didn’t hurt people on purpose. He wasn’t a malicious person. He only ever wanted to be like the seniors he looked up to. He backed his friends up in fights. But, at some point…those friends…

“Deuce isn’t like that. No, I don’t know how to reach him. But I don’t want to give up on my baby. My baby isn’t like what they say and you know it.”

At some point, it always led to his friends dragging him into the wrong places at the wrong time more often than he was really comfortable with. At some point, it led to him not understanding any of the lectures in class anymore. At some point, it led to all his classmates being scared of him.

At some point, it led to no one believing in him.

“I’m not going to give up on my son.”

No one believed in him anymore. No one except that officer that always seemed to be around to give him an alibi to prove his innocence and the one who refused to give up on him despite it all…

“Mom…?”

She stood, wind-swept and still in her work uniform, in the shadows of where the sidewalk met the beach sand. She smiled, a weary, strained tug of lips that made his eyes sting, that stole any words he might have tried to say.

“I thought I might find you here. You’ve had a long day, yeah? You’ve always come here whenever something was extra bad. Let’s head home. I’ll make your favorites.”

Deuce nodded, swallowing painfully around the lump in his throat as he took her hand. She looked up at him in surprise and it hurt more than he wanted to admit. Her eyes tried to search his, but he was too ashamed to meet her gaze.

She sighed; a soft, fond sound. Just for him.

The drying salt of his pants clung to his legs, a scratchy feeling that grounded him just as much as his soaked socks and sneakers. They walked in silence, hand in hand like they used to, before he began insisting that he was much too grown and much too tough of man to be seen doing such prissy things as doting on his mom.

Before he began bleaching his hair, before he began wearing leopard print jackets, before he began wearing clip-on piercings, before he began wearing eyeliner to make himself look tough and before he ever began skipping classes.

“What…have I been doing with myself this whole time?”

By the time they reached home, their yard was cast in the orange glow of the setting sun and their mailbox was cracked open from the day’s post delivery. The two of them parted ways so that Deuce could unlock the door while his mom retrieved the mail.

A gasp startled him, so much so that he fumbled and dropped the keys, but he had no mind for the keys when he was too busy with what could have possibly shocked his mom like that.

His mom was holding a black envelope with a white wax seal, a stately raven printed right in the middle of it. He’d seen that exact letter before. He’d seen that exact same envelope before, in the hands of seniors past, who’d brought it with them to school to show off to anyone who’d look, to anyone who’d listen.

Boasting that the Night Raven College had reached out to recruit them for their magic.

His mother’s hands trembled as she fumbled to open the letter, her eyes just as wide as his were.

Boasting that entry into Night Raven College, on that Sage’s Island, was by invite only.

The letter in her hands shook so much that Deuce had to wonder if she could even read it properly, let alone process anything that it said.

Boasting of a school for elite mages, that those who were lucky to manifest magic could only ever dream of attending.

The shout of pure joy, the smile that stretched from ear to ear, left no doubt in Deuce that the letter was really meant for him, of all people. Him, the delinquent. Him, the one who wasn’t even sure he could even envision going to high school.

Him, who made his mother cry for him.

As his mom cried again that evening, letter crushed between them as she hugged him close, hugged him so tight that he felt like she was trying to prove to himself that he truly was in her grasp, in her reach…he couldn’t help but think…

This was a new beginning that he desperately needed.

Likes and reblogs are always loved and appreciated!

Do you think I could ask for a second part to the brushing their hair with Leona, Silver, Sebek, Floyd, and Ruggie? If that's too many characters feel free to only do a few

Thank you!

Yes, you may! Thank you for the request! <3

Brushing Their Hair (Part 2)

Part 1

Twisted Wonderland - Platonic Headcanons

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt, Floyd Leech, Ruggie Bucchi

Leona Kingscholar

Slightly skeptical the first time you ask to brush his hair, but accepts without protest. (He might tease you, though.)

Will not make it easy for you, as he’ll lounge as he sees fit. It’s a 50% chance he’ll slouch in a chair for you, 50% chance he’ll lay down to nap.

Mind the ears! Brush bristles don’t feel good on them.

Gets drowsy having his hair brushed #1.

Will snap at you grouchily if you snag on any tangles in his long, wavy hair.

Would not offer to brush your hair in turn, but would silently show his appreciation to you via gifts he just so ‘happens’ to have on hand.

If you give him a braid or two, he’ll keep them in his hair until they need to be redone. He’s very pleased with them and if he’s in a good mood, he might even compliment you on them.

Has soft, slightly textured hair that’s on the dry side when you run your fingers through it. Be slow and careful, though, for his hair tangles easily.

Silver

Surprised by your offer to brush his hair but accepts, thanking you for such a kind gesture.

Gets drowsy having his hair brushed #2.

Is liable to fall asleep on you.

He feels so pleasantly relaxed afterwards that he’ll look forward to future bonding sessions with you, even if he doesn’t vocalize it.

On occasions that he does fall asleep on you, he’s very apologetic and will want to make it up to you. He’s grateful and touched that you never seem to mind him falling asleep on you.

Would definitely be impressed if you give him braids and will be happy about them, considering them as a symbol of your bond with each other. He’ll offer to give you braids and style your hair in turn.

Has baby-soft, nearly silky hair. It is a mystery how his hair is so smooth and beautiful, because I’m pretty sure he’s the kind of guy to use 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner.

Sebek Zigvolt

Friendship level too low! Why the heck would you want to brush his hair? Do you have some sort of ulterior motive?

If you achieve the right friendship level, he’ll be awkward about it and insist on returning the favor. He’s a tad shy letting you see his hair down and unsettled, as he’s displaying a side of himself that he normally wouldn’t show anyone else if he can help it. Understand that he’s putting a great deal of trust in you by showing you a vulnerable side of himself.

Once he gets used to having his hair brushed, he’ll be much more relaxed during bonding sessions and much quieter. He’ll happily chatter with you about everything and anything, gradually talking less about Malleus and more about himself the more bonding sessions and the deeper your friendship grows.

His hair is too short to properly hold a braid. He’s slightly envious of the people that you do give braids too, because he wants to be able to boast about your friendship with him like that too, but he won’t say it.

His hair runs on the drier side from the daily styling he does to it. Given how short his hair is, it’s very easy to brush and fun to run your fingers through.

Floyd Leech

Why would you want to brush his hair? That seems so boring! Why would you wanna fuss over something like his hair? You’re not up to something, are you? He’ll not be happy about it if you’re here to nag at him over his appearance, Shrimpy!

After the first time you brush his hair, he’s quite fascinated by how nice it felt to have someone else brush his hair for him and absolutely insists on returning the favor.

He’s very serious about brushing your hair with steady, gentle fingers. It’s you, after all, and he’ll return the care you’ve shown him tenfold. He’ll tease you if you express surprise at his serious side. He knows when to take things seriously, you know?

If you give him a braid, he’ll very gladly and proudly show it off to anyone and everyone and will definitely boast that you’re the one who braided it if asked about it. He’ll ask you to teach him how to braid so that he can braid your hair too. He normally wouldn’t care about such things, but he wants you to know that he cares about you too.

His hair is on the dry side, coarse to the touch. The combo of being a merman, living in an underwater dorm, and being a likely user of 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner does not do his hair any favors.

Ruggie Bucchi

Another person who is skeptical about your offer to brush his hair. Do you want something from him? If you need a favor, he’d much rather you bribe him with food, money, or both.

If you manage to convince him of the sincerity of your offer, he’ll take you up on it. He’ll still be wary the first few minutes waiting for you to spring something on him, but then he’ll melt into full relaxation mode when he sees for himself that brushing his hair is really all you wanted.

He’s very much not used to the concept of nice gestures with no expectation of repayment, so while he won’t offer to brush your hair in turn, he’ll return the gesture in other ways via chores and freebies he scored at the school store.

Depending on how tired he is during a hair brushing session, he’ll either be silent the whole while, basking in the sensation of being pampered, or he’ll chatter on the whole while about the work Leona puts him through.

Mind the ears #2!

Hair is much too short and thin to properly hold a braid, but he doesn’t mind at all. He just likes spending time with you. You’ll need to reach a very high level of friendship before he’ll vocalize that, however.

Hair is dry yet soft, wispy to the touch when you run your fingers through it.

(A/N): I hope you enjoyed and that I did your request justice, Ryker! I’m not very familiar with a good deal of the characters that you requested, so I’m sorry in advance if they come across as being a bit OOC.

Hi hi

May I request Azul with a reader who loves to take photos? Like they have a camera and love capturing memories of those around them with it

again if you have any questions about these let me know

Azul With A Reader Who Loves Taking Photos

Word Count: 946 Words

(A/N): I hope you like it! Reader was written to be Yuu/Player character. It’s, uh, also a little more hurt/comfort than intended. Oops.

Azul has a vendetta against you and your camera.

When you first arrived at Night Raven College, he hadn’t paid any mind whatsoever to your proclivity to photograph absolutely everything that moved with the ghost camera that Headmaster Crowley had bestowed upon you. Photography was a task that was placed upon you - supposedly - and he hadn’t known you as anything other than the magicless student from another world that had been moved into Ramshackle Dorm.

And then you were a sort of acquaintance that insisted on friendship with every sorry student that went through an overblot and the sight of you at Octavinelle with the ghost camera on a lanyard around your neck became a near permanent fixture of his everyday routine ever since he’d paid you back during the whole winter break incident. At first, he didn’t mind your constantly asking for photos. Having a tangible remembrance of occasions like the school festivals and events was something Crowley had asked of you, after all. It didn’t hurt to pose for photos when you were a natural at photography, either.

Lately, however…he could not seem to go more than a few minutes without you constantly calling out to him: “Azul! Hey, Azul! Let’s take a picture together!”

He simply could not wrap his mind around how it had become routine for you to photograph every little thing so incessantly. The constant sound of the shutter on your camera had set him so on edge that he’d even gone as far as banning photography from the Mostro Lounge for a full week, until the protests of the students that enjoyed being able to show off their meals on Magicam had done a hefty blow to his profits for the month.

Even today, during your near daily visit to Octavinelle, you photographed everything from the twins escorting you to his office, the tea Jade served you before exiting with Floyd in tow, to even him retaking his seat to resume working after greeting you. He could hardly focus on the numbers he was reviewing in the lounge ledgers in anticipation of what he knew you would inevitably ask him.

“Azul! Hey, Azul! Let’s take a picture together!”

Sighing, internally chastising the part of himself that could not bring itself to be terse with you, Azul set his pen down.

“Prefect. I am trying to work. You visit knowing that you can keep me company as long as you do not interrupt my work.”

“Yea, but,” you fidget and he decidedly does not smile at your pouting, “you should take a break now and then, Azul. I’m always telling you that. Besides, it’s bad for your eyes to be staring at such tiny numbers for so long.”

“And your suggestion to take a break comes in the form of asking me for yet another photo?”

You huff, as he expects. You fidget with the buttons on your camera as your pout deepens into a frown, which he also expects. He does not, however, expect you to curl in on yourself like a blown out candle, gaze dropping to the floor.

“I just want to have proof of the things that made me happy while I was here, Azul. I…hadn’t realized that I’d been asking you for so many pictures. Sorry.”

It’s such a simple, innocuous apology. Remorseful and definitely something that he did not want to hear come out of your mouth. The reminder of your temporary residence in his world, the realization that you treasured him more than he had thought and he’d belittled your feelings for him, hit him with the cold slap of instant regret.

“No,” he stood abruptly, startling you just as much as the instant regret left him reeling with the need to make amends. “No, there is no need to apologize. I’ve had a long day and I took it out on you.”

He beckons you to him, opting to walk to you instead when he sees how you hesitate with your camera in your hands.

“I hadn’t realized I was something that made you happy,” he sits beside you on the couch, adjusting his glasses to avoid eye contact. He clears his throat when you scoff at him. “Okay, yes, it’s very clear in hindsight how much you care about me. I am just…not well-practiced in things like this.”

You stare silently at him while he struggles to compose himself. He sighs and sits up straight when he sees that you’re not inclined to speak anytime soon, very clearly steeling himself for some sort of grand declaration.

“I’m…sorry.”

You don’t think anyone would blame you for gaping up at him as you do now.

“I really am. It was rude of me. I hadn’t even stopped to consider why you would take pictures of every little thing, even outside of what the headmaster had asked of you. I’ll take as many pictures with you as you’d like from now…If I could ask you to refrain from photographing every single object in the dorm every time you visit?”

Grinning, you press your shoulder up against his as you peer up at his eyes that now squarely look back at you. “Yes. I can agree to that.”

Smiling in return, Azul scoots closer to you so that the two of you can fit into frame as you lift the ghost camera up to snap a picture.

“Thanks, Azul.”

In the photo, Azul is focused entirely on you instead of the camera, eyes soft and full of adoration. If he asks you for a copy of the picture and keeps it framed on his bedside table from now on…well, quite frankly, that’s no one’s business but his own.

(A/N): I hope you enjoyed! Apologies that it’s not all that lighthearted, it just kind of ended up that way…