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hpdabbles · 1 year

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Hey! Is there a chance to continue " jewel of wool's orphanage"?

Would the blacks find out about regulus and take him?

What would happen when he gets to Hogwarts?

When will reg find out that tom is actually Voldemort??

Life at Wool's Orphanage was better than Regulus thought. Yes, they had very little in earthly possessions, and the roof over their heads didn't keep the elements out as well as it should, but all in all, Regulus found that the dynamics were close to the Slytherin Common room.

Meaning he was excellent at handling his surroundings.

The first hurdle he conquered was the caregivers, specifically Ms. Cole, who held no sympathy for the children. He quickly realized that she chose to work in this institution because muggle women didn't have many options in the workforce, unlike the magical one, and she liked to be praised.

She glowed whenever someone mentioned how "brave" and "strong" she was for taking on the heavy burden of dealing with the worthless brats of society.

In the muggle world, orphans were seen in the same scorn light as Squibs were. They were to blame for their misfortune and would likely amount to nothing because of it too.

So the way to make her look better and gain her approval was to play up his physical age and publicly thank her for everything she did for him. He was careful to not come off as a boot licker, but before long, Regulus would join her in errands, sweetly telling the muggles who watched them how amazing it was to be saved by Ms. Cole.

His perfect mannerism was a product of Ms. Cole.

His perfect speech was a side effect of Ms. Cole.

Ms.Cole was the reason little Regulus was like a doll. And oh, how she adored the way muggles congratulated her for everything that made him.

If only he wasn't a pennyless orphan, Regulus would be the perfect young boy. The muggles whispered to each other as he held the door for others, smile sweetly, and followed Ms. Cole like a little duckling.

She adores that he did what she said and when she said it. Never noticing how strangely intelligent, he was for being able to keep up at the tender age of three. The rest of the caregivers quickly picked up he was one of her favorites- a majority were orphans who, upon aging out, returned after not making it out in the world and bitterly took jobs in the hell hole. They acted slowly but surely, treating him better to not earn the headmistress' wrath.

They all remembered what happened when the Headmistress of Wool's lost her temper and had the scars to prove it. It was better to treat Regulus like a naive little prince- likely thinking him too stupid to be of any actual harm.

Regulus knew this would cause the rest of the orphans at Wools to become bitter at the favoritism, just as the other Slytherins had been when he first joined the Quidditch team. In Slytherin, he had the House of Black to fall onto and keep himself safe from their jealous sneers but in Wool's, he had to make do with what he had.

That came in the form of carefully placed kindness.

The other children didn't have to steal from Regulus. No, the boy gave his things away but never without a price. He watched the children and saw what each could offer for trade and what they needed before the child realized it themselves.

For example, Billy, who clutched his pet rabbit as his only emotional support, did not notice his rabbit was growing too big and would need a new pen. He had given one of the older girls a stylish scarf, gifted to him by one of the nuns Ms. Cole likes to flaunt him in front of, in exchange for her large shoe box. He then filled it with newspaper, stuffed it with hay from the stable, and approached Billy, offering the "bunny bed" to the boy's delight.

They had never spoken before that, but it meant that his bunny bed seemed much more genuine. Billy happily placed his rabbit in the box and named facts about the animal while Regulus smiled and listened.

Not once did he tell Billy to shut up, roll his eyes, or make the boy feel stupid for his love of rabbits, and that endured him like no other to the muggle child.

Later when Regulus mentions how fantastic the ribbons that decorated his room are, Billy thinks nothing of giving some to him. He seemed unaware of the uneven trade because it wasn't in the other boy's mind.

The ribbons were Regulus' gift for being so thoughtful.

A gift he then used to make Sally's hair look spectacular for her school dance, his tiny fingers still able to do the hairdos of the aristocrats. When he convinced her to let him do her make-up, he had turned a dull girl into a beauty. She returned with a bright smile, a filled dance card, and a little surprise teddy bear as a thank you.

That toy found its way to a nine-month baby in the nursery, who had been struggling to fall asleep, keeping everyone up with her constant wailing. One well-placed teddy to hold and a sweet lullaby had her slumbering and, more importantly, making the nurse in charge of the room internally grateful.

Soon Regulus developed a reputation for being thoughtful. He listened to everyone, was kind to everyone, helped anyone, and he become a well-respected boy at the orphanage.

It also became an unwritten rule that Regulus was a neutral party. No one bothered him because he was on friendly terms with every clique and power. Of course, he wasn't a leader of anything, but the other kids would stand up for him if anyone tried to bully him.

After all, how could they be mean to Regulus? The boy is so kind.

He was always willing to help when needed, crafting the image of a harmless little pushover without anyone the wiser that he was carefully manipulating them to his advantage. Three years since his arrival, no one had noticed.

Well, nearly no one.

"Nuse Jane thought a box of chocolate would mean you come back to change diapers for her, didn't she?" Tom asked, placing Regulus in his lap and peering at the small box the head nursery nurse had passed him that morning with a wink. "No wonder she can't get anyone to marry her. She's stupid."

"She has her usages. Manipulation is not one of them." Regulus sighed, allowing the strange muggle-born to bury his nose in his hair and smile against his skull.

Since meeting that fateful night in the nursery, the two had been roommates and nearly inseparable.

Oh, others tried to pry them apart but accidents tended to happen to them not long after. It was no secret that Tom was the cause of them even if there was never any proof.

The fact that Regulus was the only one who could curve his violent outburst only further made him more liked to the rest of Wools.

He needed to figure out what to make of Tom.

The boy was gifted when it came to magic, ridiculously so, already having control over it far better than most adults.

The three wandless spells Regulus taught him were so easily mastered that Tom took it upon himself to learn different kinds independently. The scary part was that he succeeded, having uncovered Lumos and a color-changing charm on his own, after spending weeks concentrating enough.

What could he accomplish with proper training? With a wand? Obviously, Tom wouldn't go on to make much of a name for himself since Regulus could not recall a single Tom Riddle, but he was useful now.

If he was honest with himself, Regulus also liked having another wizard about, even if it was a muggle-born.

Tom seemed to adore showing Regulus his progress, but the time traveler noticed that the muggle-born treated him much like a toy. In Tom's eyes, Regulus was a shiny plaything, and he wasn't sure if that was healthy.

Tom's crush on him may be less so. But Regulus grew up in the House of Black- healthy relationships weren't common there, and he didn't mind the boy's feelings so much.

It was nice to be someone's obsession.

"Regulus!" Billy yells, breaking the peace by throwing open the door without knocking. At once, he felt Tom's magic swirl in displeasure, so he quickly leaned back into the boy and clamped a hand on the arms around his middle.

Tom settles again, but likely glaring at the intruder, who looks pale.

"What is it, Billy?" He asks carefully, making his voice soft but sharing his articulation. It usually makes the other orphans listen to him faster.

"You won't believe it," Billy says after a moment, his eyes wide. "A pair of men arrived claiming to be looking for you!"

"For me?" Regulus tilts his head. "Why?"

"They think they're your family! A mister Marius Black with his father, Cygnus Black, saw your picture in the Christmas choir and came as soon as they could. They're speaking to Ms. Cole now." Whatever fear of Tom quickly disappeared as Billy hastily threw open their closet, taking out Regulus' church clothes- the best he owned. "Quickly, you have to change! They may take you home with them if you can impress them enough."

For Merlin's sake, they found him? After putting so much effort into securing his place in Wool's Orphanage, the house of Black was trying to exploit him again?

"They're wrong," Tom hisses, his voice dipping into the perfect imitation of a snake. "Regulus is mine. He's not going anywhere."

"I'm comfortable with that," Regulus tells him, snuggling closer. Tom's silly crush is perfect in times like these. He blinks big eyes at the boy, whose cold expression slowly melts into a blush. "Will you hide me, Tom? I don't want to go away."

As predicted, Tom folds faster than wet paper. "We can hide you in the backyard shed. Hurry."

"But Regulus! Mr. Black could be your father. you could leave!" Billy protests, but the two are already running down the hall. Regulus' tiny six-year-old legs are no match for Tom's fast stride, and sadly that is his undoing.

"Regulus is Wool's jewel. The boy could do no wrong, I assure you, sirs- oh, here he is now!" Ms. Cole says when she rounds the corner with two men behind her. Tom skits to a stop before colliding with them, but Regulus is not as lucky, crashing into the legs of once great-grandfather Cygnus Black.

The worst part was that he landed on a magic stone the man was wearing as a ring. A stone meant to glow when near family magic. Likely a test to see if Marius has produced a magical child after all.

One he just unwillingly passed.

"Marius, my son, you have found my grandson." The aged man says, hiding the glowing ring before Ms. Cole or Tom sees it. The Squib's face lights up, kneeling to stare at Regulus like he is his salvation.

And Regulus is his salvation because being called son after being disowned meant the disownment was officially over. Marius has just earned his way back into the Ancient and Noble House of Black.

"Hello there, son. I've been looking for you everywhere." Marius says in a fatherly tone, and it's so different from how he had first sounded when his whore mother dropped him off on his doorsteps three years ago. It's upsetting.

He knows deep down that his body is still young, and he can not control all of his emotional outbursts because of it. The anger he feels for this squib trying to take advantage of him so their so-called family can give a flying crap about them is enough to have his magic's careful control slip.

He feels a tingle around his scalp and the three adults mouth's drop.

Ms. Cole gasps in horror. "What in the world?! "

A strand of hair falls into his eyes, and Regulus is about to push it out of the way when he notices an alarming change.

His hair is an angry red, not the raven black he has had all his life. Both of his lives.

"A metamorphmagus." Cygnus breaths, hand over his chest and smiling widely. "Marius, you sired a metamorphmagus."

For fuck's sake, Regulus did not want to deal with any of this.

#Hpdabbles #The Jewel of Wool's Orphanage #Part 3 #Harry Potter #Time travel #Regulus being a Slytherin #None of the kids are aware #Tom sees right through his Hufflepuff mask #The Black are back!#Regulus re-incarnated but not in his own body #Metamorphmagus Regulus

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lovesickeros · 2 months

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☆ from gold, i am undone

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, implied self harm, implied suicide attempts {☆} word count 0.9k

You weren't meant to be here.

You can feel it in the marrow of your bones– it weighs you down like heavy shackles, gold bleeding from your pores until it is all you know. The taste of ichor on your tongue, the warmth of its invasion beneath your skin, that gleam of gold that lingers in the color of your eyes like specks of dust.

You are changed, and you are whole.

But you are so unbearably broken.

A shattered piece of porcelain hastily put back together with gold to fill the cracks.

Decoration, in the end, for you are not fit to walk as "mortals" do. This gold had filled every empty crevice of your body, spilled the red into your frantic hands and made you bleed so it's callous gold could make room inside your body. It has taken from you many things, given many more, but you scratch and bite and tear until it drips onto the floor and even then it never leaves. It stains the floor no matter how hard you scrub– a permanent reminder of the sickening gold that molds you into something that used to look like you– that does look like you. Desecrated, yet so horribly divine.

All you see is a monster.

Something new, something old.

A hollowed out shell, wounds left to rot and fester until you suited the image of the Creator they bore upon statues and murals, the Creator worshiped in prayers spoken in hushed whispers and joyous chants praising your magnificence.

But what magnificence is there in detachment? What joy is there to be found in carving a God out of a human? They kneel like lambs before the shepherd, but the flock has made you– and you want to unmake them. Unweave the tapestry of their being stitch by stitch until it all falls apart and the world knows the cost of casting molten gold into the shape of a human, knows the price that has been left unpaid.

You want to take it from them. Watch them squabble and pray, blind sheep stepping into the wolf's open maw– to tear the seams of their being until the world is unwound by your heavy hands.

But you know it will not satisfy you.

Nothing does anymore.

You are no wolf. Only the shepherd who guides.

And with every drop of blood spilled, they ripped the humanity from your very bones until your body was the cast in which they made something anew– something gold, something horrific. A monster as much a God, a beast as much a man.

There is nothing left but absolute authority.

You try again and again to mend this act of desecration, to peel back the outer shell and rend the gold from your marrow– but your body cannot, will not, die. It mends itself back into place no matter how damaged, and all you feel is the uncomfortable tug of your body forcing itself to live. You cannot die, but were you ever truly alive at all?

Yet with every cycle, you know only one constant besides the thrum of golden ichor in your veins– cold.

Ice that burns, ice that spreads and festers and devours. Claws that pull you apart until the gold runs thick, teeth that burrow into your bones and rip it out from the source..eyes that witness the fall of a God with reverence– hungering, all consuming reverence.

You welcome it.

It is the first time you felt pain since you were cast into an image of a being you were not meant to be. The sting of cold upon your skin makes you shiver, your body tries to reject it, but you want to welcome it– for a brief moment that lasts only as long as it takes for you to blink, you see the glint of something familiar in the reflection of her empty eyes. Something achingly, horribly familiar– something human, all the more terrifying for it.

Even when Teyvat itself crumples like paper beneath the weight of her sins – of this desecration anew, this wretched heresy – you allow her hands to do it again. You grasp her hands in yours like chains, willing her to shackle you, willing her to pull you apart and make you whole again. To break you until the gold cannot put you back together again.

You long, each time, for those eyes like spears that lodge into your skin– burrow deep and sting deeper, making gold flow like water. You long for the biting tongue, the cutting words and those teeth like weapons– long to see the spite and anger and impure disgust aimed at the woman of silver who leads you down a hall that ends only in damnation. You follow each time like the lamb led astray by the wolf, but you do not wail in betrayal when she sinks her teeth into your throat and devours you whole.

For is it a sin if you welcome it? Has their God sinned, in the eyes of the flock, for welcoming such heresy with open arms? For allowing the wolf into their home?

Is it a sin to be broken beneath the only hands that have loved you?

Is it a sin to want to love, too, those hands and teeth stained in gold?

Then you shall be damned, you swear it. Damned, but gold no more.

For death is the closest you have ever felt to being human.

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #tsaritsa #genshin cult au #genshin impact cult au #tsaritsa x reader #this is. technically not a sequel but not a prequel but a secret third thing (mental health crisis)#kidding i just wanted 2 write the prev fic from more reader oriented pov bc it wasnt fucked up enough!!!!!#i need fucked up reader who is irreparably changed in horrifying ways!!!!!! and they cant die bc teyvat kinda needs them 2 uh #exist at all. and if u die well thats it. hits reset button #the horrifying fate of a mortal forced to be a god against their will and all the drawbacks that come with it #where is love to be found when they all cannot see themselves as anything but beneath you? there will always be imbalance #oh they try. they claw and scramble and beg but being the creator has changed you.#none of their worship. none of their sacrifices and gifts and pleas make you feel a thing and what a haunting thing it must be #do they reject it? delude themselves into thinking that they must try harder?#or do they accept that this is a god? absolute. horrifying in its entirety. something that even the archons cannot truly understand #a manmade god who seeks absolution in only the most heretical. the most blasphemous #literally shaking chewing on the bars of my cage LET ME OUT #i love deep dives like this sorry 2 everyone i made think i was normal my bad #i just think immortality and godhood r funky concepts and i love making them WORSE #also this took so long because i was playing b@Idurs g@t3 3 erm. censored so it doesnt show up in tags PLEASE DONT SHOW UP IN TAGS #taking i need the tsaritsa to bite me to a whole new entirely worse level!!#i just think (starts talking for 5 hours straight and doesnt Shut Up)#this one is also. considerably more openly fucked up then the other fic. even if its hidden behind flowery language uh. take it seriously.#okay im done no more angst its fluff from here on out i need 2 be NORMAL. i am a normal well functioning adult. maybe.

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