#rook hunt x oc

[cyn-write]

"Her Smoldering Eyes Still Scorch My Soul"

Summary: Rollo has been eyeing you since your arrival, seeing you as the diamond amongst coals. At the Ball, he corners you into a dance, but your BF is not going to let this slide...

Pairings: Rook, Epel, Silver, and Sebek x F!Reader (separate) For Azul, Idia, and Malleus' part

For Riddle, Deuce, Ruggie, and Jamil's

For Rollo's Warnings: Possessive behavior, suggestive, manipulation (Rollo), obsession (Rollo), established relationships, romantic, fluff ~

Note: This is the last part FINALLY!!! I have been working on this for a while and am excited to move on to new projects! Any suggestions, please let me know!!

Prologue

"Who might you be miss?"

Y/n gave a kind smile and nodded her head in greeting "I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you," she stayed next to Trein as she was there as his assistant.

"Yuu is our magicless perfect of Ramshackle. She will be working as my assistant throughout the trip," Trein added.

She felt Rollo's eyes scan her, and, unlike his greetings to the rest, he held out a hand. Being poilet, she offered her hand as well, and he lifted it to his lips, grazing her knuckles quickly.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, y/n. I understand it must be difficult, being surrounded by mages every second of the day. I hope you get a chance to relax this trip." Y/n blushed at the motion and bit her lower lip. All the while she could feel her boyfriend glaring daggers into her and Rollo.

"I-I'll do my best..." Y/n replied. Throughout the entire trip, Rollo seemed to gravitate towards y/n and used every excuse to isolate her from the group. They chatted about her difficulties at NRC and of the festival. Due to her being Trein's assistant and the constant reminders to behave, she and her boyfriend had little time together.

This all accumulated at the Masquerade. Rollo had given Y/n a proper dress for the occasion instead of the attire his counsel had chosen. The (color) fabric decadently adorned your figure and stunned the NRC boys with its beauty. But before her boyfriend could ask for a dance, Rollo stole y/n away. He whisked her to the dance floor, and they started chatting.

At this point, Y/N's boyfriend has had enough of the student counsel president, but what sent him over the edge is when he takes you to the balcony and dare suggest the worst:

"Y/n, stay here with me." Y/n turned quickly on her heels to Rollo in confusion, "The fools at NRC do not deserve your purity. You belong here. with me." He has her pinned against the balcony, "This is your sanctuary."

Y/n pushed Rollo away slightly and spoke up, "Thank you for the offer, but I have not intention of leaving NRC. It is difficult at times but I wouldn't have it any other way. Now if you excuse me, I want to go back to the ball."

Rollo grabbed y/n's wrist and pulled her against him. "It's because of Draconia, isn't it? He has bewitched you!" He pinned her between the balcony wall and him. "Those fiends have enchanted you, but I will free you from those chains and show you salvation! No matter the cost!"

Rook Hunt

An Arrow landed right in between Rollo's middle and index finger splayed on the wall.

Rollo turned to see Rook with his bow still aimed at him.

"What is the-"

"Step away from Mon Ange."

Ever the observant Hunter, he could tell Rollo was attracted to his dearest as many were. He trusted y/n to take care of most of them. She was quietly capable, and he knew she preferred to fight some battles alone, but this crossed a line.

It only took a few strides to close the distance between them. Rook, being the gentleman he was, gently pulled y/n out from under Rollo's grip. He pulled her behind him and stood tall against the Student Council President.

"Hunt. What is the meaning of this? The perfect and I were having a conversation and you shoot at me?!" Rollo's tone begins to lose his composure. "You will pay for this!"

"Not if you want the entirety of Nobel Bell to learn their esteemed president is a pervert." Rook held up his phone and a video of the previous events started playing. Along with that he scrolled and displayed photos of Rollo looking at y/n's behind and chest, being aggressive towards her, and pinning her against the wall.

Rollo quieted and stared at Rook in rage, "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh I would, and the first person to see this would be the Dean of Nobel Bell and Professor Trien. Permanently ruining your reputation and the friendship between the schools." Rook took a step closer and held his thumb over the 'send' button. "And you wouldn't want that would you?"

Y/n looked at her loving hunter in shock. This was a side of Rook you were never privy to and it was terrifying. Rollo closed his agape mouth and stepped back. He bowed to the couple and retreated "Enjoy the ball, Mages." he spatted.

The moment Rollo left Rook turned to his Mon Ange and cupped her face with his soft gloved hands. "Mon Amour, are you alright?" he was so gentle with her.

Her emotions started to flood her senses as tears spilled from her eyes. She nodded and smiled, "Now that you're here I am," she brought her hands to his shoulder and he pulled her into a hug.

"Mon Amour, you're safe now. Non will dare hurt you as I stand by your side." He patted her head and kissed her cheek and forehead and anywhere he could get his lips before he finally placed them on her lips.

She smiled and let out a soft cry, "I know, I know."

"Ma Princesse, your chevalier dans une armure brillante will never leave your side again." He held her close as she cried.

Eventually, a new song began and he stepped back. Rook had an idea to make her feel better. He kneeled in front of her and clasped her hands in his, "Mon Ange, will you honor a humble chevalier with a dance?"

Y/n nodded and smiled at her brilliant hunter, "Of course, Mon chevalier!"

Epel Fulimer

"YOU GET YUR HANDS OFF HER!" Epel wasted no time, pulling Rollo off his apple-blossom. He stood in front of y/n and held out his magic pen to the predator. "YOU LAY A HAND ON HER AND ILL BUST YOUR BOTTOM THREE WAYS TA SUNDAY!"

Epel looked dashing in the moonlight. Despite the cuteness of his outfit, in the eyes of y/n he looked like a prince rescuing his love from an evil monster.

Rollo looked shocked at being thrown off the perfect by this little mage. He squinted his eyes then they widened when they realized it was one of the NRC freshmen.

"Fulimer. This doesn't concern you." He said pointedly, "Now go back to the ball and leave the perfect and I to our discussion."

"NO. YOU LISTEN TO ME." Epel said and squared up the older mage, "y/n told you NO. She clearly said she doesn't want to leave NRC. So unless you wanna go right here. right now. You leave MY Girl alone."

Rollo glared at the two and before he could say anything else he heard someone call his name from inside. He straightened up and looked past Epel at y/n, "Think about my offer y/n, we will discuss this matter later."

He turned and left the balcony. Leaving Epel and y/n alone in the cold night breeze. Epel watched Rollo leave then turned to hug his beloved close to his chest, "y/n, I am so sorry I didn't get here sooner. I couldn' find ya in the ballroom and people said Rollo took ya, and I thought the-"

She shut up his yapping by giving him a deep kiss on the lips. Epel pulled her closer, firmly gripping her waist and slipping a hand into her hair. The couple stayed like this for a long time before parting to breathe.

After regaining his breath, Epel said, "Wow... what was that for?"

Y/n smiled and placed her hands on either side of his face, her fingertips grazing his mask, "Isn't it traditional for the damsel to kiss her champion after a heroic rescue?"

Epel's smile turned mischievous, the way it always did when she complimented his masculinity. "Champion ya say? Well, Princess, do ya wanna go back to the ball or keep thanking me?"

Y/n giggled at the suggestive comment and said, "What do you have in mind?"

Epel leaned in close and whispered in a low voice teaming with desire, "I say we slip back to my room and-"

"Monsieur Cherry Apple! Madame trickster! There you are! I was looking all over for you!" Rook came out and Epel jumped back and grumbled at his senior's interruption. "The music is splendid! why don't you join me for a dance?"

He held open the door back into the ballroom open and gestured for them to come inside.

"We will be there in just a sec," Epel said and gave Rook a look of 'Please give me two more seconds'.

"Very Well, I will be waiting ~" Rook said and closed the door for a second.

"Well... looks like Rook decided for ya, but" He bowed to y/n and held out his hand, "Will you be this humble Champion's Princess tonight?

Silver

"I suggest you let the lady go." Silver’s hand gripped Rollo’s shoulder, forcing the president to turn from y/n.

The expression on his face was stone, eyes filled with a fiery rage all aimed at the man who dared to lay a hand on his princess. Rollo was taken aback by the gaze, it it made y/n’s heart swell. The momentary shock of Silver’s iron grip allowed for y/n to slip away from her captor and into Silver’s arms. The partner change changed Silver’s tactic from offense to defense. He let go of Rollo’s shoulder, took y/n’s waist, held her close to his chest. He held out his magic pen like a sword and y/n felt as if she was on the cover of a Romance Book. From where she stood, Silver looked like a fairytale prince. He may be a man of few words, but his eyes could write a novel.

“As a retainer of Prince Malleus and a Knight of Briar Valley, I cannot overlook a man of your caliber harassing a lady.” He said, his voice steady yet commanding, “Especially MY Lady.”

Y/n felt the heat rise in her cheeks, that was the first time he ever referred to her as “his.” Due to his position, their relationship had to be kept secret from everyone but Malleus and Lilia. They never used labels even in private. There were times she felt as though they were just friends, but you understood his situation. Now he called her his and acted as her knight, her Prince Charming.

Rollo was shocked to say the least. He took a step back and said, “The perfect and I were just discussing some private matters. But we can continue our conversation later,” Rollo started to walk away but Silver held his pan to the small of his back.

Silver’s expression shifted from stone to threatening, he lowered his voice an octave and whispered into Rollo’s ear, “You will not speak to her again. If you do, I swear to the sevens you will have wished those fires consumed you.”

Rollo glanced back a Silver with a twinge of fear in his eyes before retreating back to the ballroom.

The moment Rollo left the balcony, Silver turned back to look at his dearest. For someone notorious for his stone expression, Silver was very expressive on the balcony. He looked at the perfect with concern. His eyebrows knit, lips slightly frowning, and eyes looking in her eyes with deep concern.

Without any words, the two lovers embraced under the stars. Silver pressed his lips to her temple and whispered, “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

Y/n looked up at her knight and smiled, “It’s okay…” she brushed her lips against his cheek and whispered with tears in her eyes, “y-you called me ‘your lady’… you’ve never called me your’s.”

Silver brushed back a stray hand of hair as he said, “I know I asked to… to keep us quiet, but after that, I think it best that I be selfish…” he kneeled before his beloved in the (f/c) dress, one hand clasping hers while the other laid over his heart. “Y/n, will you honor the selfish request of a knight and be my princess?”

Sebek Zigolt

"Let. Her. Go."

Rollo turned to face him and was surprised to see Sebek. The usually loud retainer spoke in an even tone, barely above a sage whisper. His magic pen was drawn and pointing at directly at Rollo’s head.

He did not yell, but his rage was oozing out of every creases of his being. The fear in y/n’s eyes when Rollo pinned her to the railing made a switch click inside the freshman. He had been looking for y/n for a while. Malleus suggested the two dance n’s relax, and Sebek was never one to deny his Prince’s request. But when he saw Rollo pulled the human on to the balcony, he knew something was up. He got to the balcony just in time to hear Rollo suggest the worse: the Human switching schools… HIS human. And worse off, when she said no, Rollo forced himself on her. He could not take this anymore.

Rollo stood between the human and him. The council resident looked the freshman up and down before simply stating, “Zigolt, what are you doing? The perfect and I are trying to have a private conversation.”

“You touch her again and I will not hesitate.” Sebek Said, he stepped forward and Rollo remained unmoving.

“And I suggest you leave us be.” Rollo dare place his arm around y/n’s waist, “If the professor’s heard a NRC student threaten the Host of this event, the relations between our schools would be ruined, so I suggest you leave us be. She and I still have much to discuss-“

“You let go of her or I will-“

“Will what? Ruin the name of you dear prince and university over a human woman? I thought human’s meant nothing to fea like you-“

“The discussion is over. Flamme.” Malleus appeared behind Sebek with Silver by his side.

Sebek looked back to his Prince and his brother in arms and they could see the rage and disparation on his face. Malleus smiled at Sebek and said, “Sebek, take the child of man to the dace floor, it is simply criminal that a young couple not dance at a ball.”

Sebek understood the hidden meaning behind the words, ‘take y/n out of here.’

He strode over to y/n as she shimmed out of Rollo’s grip. In a rush, y/n and Sebek embraced upon meeting and he took her hand in his before leading his human away from the scene. Silver nodded to Sebek as they passed, releasing him of his duties for the night. Once away, the couple stopped in an alcove and Sebek embraced his human tightly.

“Y/n forgive me,” He said with his emotions finally spilling over, “I have been an inattentive lover and did nothing when Rollo had you… I’m so useless-“

“Don’t say that.” Y/n placed her hands on either side of Sebek's face. She looked him in the eyes and saw the disappointment. He was so upset with himself for what happened. Despite his rough facade, he put a lot of responsibility on himself, and if he did not live up to those impossible standards, he punished himself. "You saved me Sebek, so can we leave that behind us and go to the ball?"

Sebek allowed a small smile to grace his lips. He leaned his forehead against her's, "Oh course... I want nothing more than to be with you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: Please Like, Reblog, and Follow for more! If you are interested in seeing an NSFW part 2 or want to see more characters in this scenario, please let me know! (Do not Steal)

#twst rook #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt x mc #rook hunt x oc #epel felmier #twst epel #twisted wonderland epel #epel x reader #epel x yuu #epel x mc #disney twist #disney twisted wonderland #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland silver #twst silver #silver x reader #silver x yuu #silver x mc #silver vanrouge #sebek zigvolt #twisted wonderland sebek #twst sebek #sebek x reader #twst mc #twisted wonderland pomefiore #twisted wonderland x reader #sebek x mc #twisted wonderland diasomnia #twisted wonderland fanfic

[robo-milky]

Would Rook play with Cloche’s hair? It looks rather soft….

He would! Rook’s ‘playing’ ranges from petting, tousling, and braiding. If the day is too still, and there’s not enough ‘interesting’ occurrences in NRC, then he’ll provoke the beast that is Cloche by tugging on her hair. If Rook pulls a little too hard (which he does more often than not), then he’ll kiss the part of the scalp that hurt. Cloche doesn’t mind whether if he’s playing soft or rough. However, if Cloche is feeling particularly tense, then Feral!Cloche may take over and scratch him for tugging her hair.

#mutuals 🎊 #ask 🎊 #oc: cloche🎊 #twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twst ocs #rook hunt #twst rook #rookloche #twisted wonderland oc #twst yuu #yuusona #twst yuusona #rook hunt x oc

[vaporvipermedia]

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!

FINALLY COMPLETED THIS OMG RAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! I GOT MY GODAMN KROOK FIX LETS GO!😭😭💕💕💕

Ok imma pass out now I hope everyone’s day was amazing single or nah.

(Also rook’s freckles shall forever be superior even if it’s covered by makeup)

Also some alts:

Reblogs are very appreciated

#twisted wonderland #twst oc #oc #twisted oc #twst #kei yoshihiko #twst yuu #rook hunt #rook hunt x oc #rook x kei #krook #HAPPY VALENTINES DAY

[siren-serenity]

tonjours yours (always yours)

characters: rook hunt, aster warnings: fluff, romance a/n: - this is a birthday gift to the one and only @v-anrouge!! we love you aster <3 - feedback is appreciated!

Sometimes I wonder, what is love?

Is it the beating of the heart? Explained by scientific reasonings as why the heart flutters like a youthful, baby bird, notioned by the changing of pH levels in the body? Or is love the way the soul yearns for their other? Like some higher diety is twisting the red lines of fate until we meet, mon ange [my angel]?

I, Rook Hunt, never thought that love would find me. As a beloved, dedicated hunter of love, I thought it was always my duty to find love, to treasure the beauty of love, to protect the power of love. It was always in my grasps but never really mine to hold. But I never cried over the loss because to my mortal hands, love was unworthy. It was too pure to be in the hands of a mere mortal.

But everything changed the moment you came into my life.

I met you. My heart, my soul, mon amor [my love]. You lit my world up like the stars in the dark night and exposed me to another world of wonders that was falling in love. From sunrise to sunset, you are the first and foremost thought in my mind. Nothing could come close because you buried yourself in my heart so deeply that I feared the dire consequences of letting you go. I don't think I could ever heal from you leaving, so don't. Stay with me. Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi. [I can't live without you.]

Happy birthday, Aster. Hier, aujourd'hui, demain, toujours. [Yesterday, today, tomorrow, always]. Je t'aime de tout mon coeur. [I love you with all my heart].

A toi, pour toujours. [Yours forever], Rook Hunt

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #rook hunt #rook hunt x oc #pomefiore

[cvlutos]

HE WHO OWNS, THE COURT WINS IT ALL!!

✡︎ May.06.2023 | 6.0K| Commissioned by @pinkskybelle

✡︎ Vil S. | Rook H. | Male OC

✡︎ Bridgerton AU | Angst | Fluff | Poly | Slowburn | Courting | Hierarchy | Oblivious | Mentions of Alcohol| Etc

✡︎ Synopsis: This is a time for all the rich nobles and bacheors gather for six months to find a love, to grow their name, to make a fourtune. So shall you play along.

| One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six |

ACT ONE

“We know what we are, but know not what we may be.” - Shakespeare

The Huntsman gently closes the book, leaning against the rough bark of the pine tree, basking in the few sun rays that gently touch his skin. Emerald eyes flutter closed as he lets out a low amused hum.

“Something will change. C’est assez excitant~”

══════ •✦• ════════════ •✦• ══════

“Vil. You know I am quite disappointed.”

The tip of the fountain pen taps against the pristine white documents, each paper in some way tied to the never-ending business and work that’s conducted by the small Schoenheit Family, made up of the Head of the House, his new wife, and his two sons.

His eldest son, Vil Schoenheit, stands before him. Dressed in a simple button-up and slacks, his blonde hair in a low bun except for the purposeful loose strands that frame the sides of his face. Lilac eyes express nothing, as pink-painted lips press tightly together. The room was dimly lit with little light filtering in through the large violet window shades. A thick, dark oak desk was placed in the furthest part of the room, separating the two.

The silence between them grows more tense with each passing moment, as the head of the family lets out another annoyed sigh. Wishing to be occupied with signing papers alone, then having to deal with the son of his late ex-wife. The shadows prevent the head’s face from being seen, but Vil knows—his father has his always disappointed face engraved into his memory—he knows that his father is scowling. Like he always does. Scowling with disappointed eyes and disappointed lips.

The air, thick and cold—frigid upon Vil’s elegant skin, forcing him to remain present, then allowing his mind to wander to more savory things instead of listening to his father’s long lectures. The pen taps again, showing a bit of his father’s impatience, which is always short. Since Vil was a child, his father has never been patient. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed.

“I apologize,” Vil bows, placing a hand over his heart, “but there was not much else I could do. Time got away from me...”

The chair beneath his father creaks as he leans forward with a scoff, “The time got away? You—who is insistent upon keeping track of all things I do. Ready to undermine me at all chances.” Vil’s father lets out a tired sigh. “Just like your mother would, always trying to correct—” He speaks under his breath, placing his pen down, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yet time got away from you.”

The blonde brows of Vil’s face scrunch, his glossed lips pulling into a deep scowl, standing straight once again, his arms crossing. “Leave my mother out of this. You tormented her enough when she was here.”

“Do not get smart with me boy!” His father’s hand slams against his desk, creating a firm and echoing sound that seems to shake the very room, Vil bites back any words, watching the multitude of books, pens, pencils, and décor topple off the desk. Vil does nothing. Keeping his posture straight and unamused, eyes firm and staring. His father’s hands clenching and stretching, fixing his wedding band subconsciously, breathing heavily.

“Pick my things up, boy.” Vil’s father’s voice is firm, watching with glaring eyes as Vil’s shoulders drop, slowly sliding down and onto his knees and picking up the multiple objects and placing them back on his desk. Vil’s father proceeds to speak, staring down at his son.

“If time has gotten away from you—then you simply force my hand Vil.”

The chair creaks. His father rises from his seat and pulls out a black envelope with gold writing. He flicks the envelope from his hand, watching it flutter before landing on the wooden flooring, forcing Vil, on his knees, to reach for it, on all fours. Like a dog.

‘Vil Schoenheit’

Written in beautiful gold cursive, Vil recognizes exactly who the letter is from immediately having received a letter occasionally from the family. The Royal Draconia family. He rises to his feet, placing the objects back in place and returning where he stood. Looking over the letter in silence.

“Because I cannot trust you to act reasonably and properly, you will host this year’s courting season.” His father speaks again, straightening his hair and clothing. Vil’s gaze moves up to his father, scowling deeply.

“The courting season is in less than three months. Everyone has already made preparations for the Al-Asims to host. And I have talked to the head of the family, and he is more than happy to let you host.” Vil’s father sits back down, before waving his hand in a shooing motion, “Now go. I’m tired of looking at you.” Vil gives another curt bow, biting back any vile words that wished to escape his lips. Turning on his heel and walking out of his father’s office.

Closing the heavy oak door with a hard slam, keeping his displeased scowl, any servants were quick to move out of his way, keeping their heads low. He walks the lavish white halls quickly, steps muffled by the thick violet carpets, he holds the letter tightly. His huntsman appears beside him in stride, a small smile across his lips. Unbothered by Vil’s scowl and furrowed brows.

“Bon après-midi, mon Seigneur, pourquoi un air renfrogné orne-t-il le beau visage d’une personne?” Vil stops immediately in place, turning to his huntsman, holding up the envelope, and watching his personal guard nod in immediate understanding.

“He has not only forced me to my hands and knees like a dog but has also saddled me with preparing this year’s courting season. Even went so far as to ask the Draconia family, he has absolutely made a fool of me.” Vil’s voice is low, dripping with venom, before resuming his walk, his steps long and fast, his guard follows easily. Dressed casually in his familiar brown feathered hat upon his head.

“How would you like to begin planning?”

“Have letters sent out—Courting with take place at the Pomefiore Manor. I’ll have father regret ever forcing my hand.”

══════ •✦• ══════

“Master Robyn!”

The wind blows softly through the sunlit manor grounds, rustling the vibrant green grass and forest leaves as two figures crouch in the bushes, out of sight and view of the frantic middle-aged maid who was shouting for them. Trying to rush down the stone stairs, but also afraid to fall, leaving her to grip the ends of her black dress and white apron as she sidestepped down the steps. Swatting away at the two large dogs that yap and bark as they bound up and down the steps, messing with her as she tries to shoo them away.

There’s a handmade animal target made of hay and cloth that stands unmoving, placed in the very center of the grassy field. Something the maid is utterly oblivious to, as small hands grip the wooden bow, a hand-crafted gift made for the young brother of the Locksley house, with his name elegantly engraved along the handle.

“Ignore her.”

The master of the house’s voice is quiet, with a hint of playfulness as he tucks a strand of rose-red hair behind his ear, crouching low as he adjusts his brother’s aim. Once again, the maid shouts, which earns a snicker from the younger boy, as the Head of the house grins. Both the brothers are quite used to her panicked shouts, having grown to know the difference between her actual urgent calls and her simple faux panic that she at times sends herself into over the smallest changes.

“Do I shoot now, brother?” His brother’s voice is playful, glancing up at his brother with eager eyes, waiting for the release command. A moment passes before the eldest looks at his younger brother, giving a short nod.

“Shoot.”

The young brother does, the arrow zipping through the bushes and shooting straight into the fake deer’s neck, sending the puppet flying over. The maid shrieks in fear and surprise, nearly dropping whatever she was holding, as the dogs bark happily, rushing over to the straw dummy and pouncing on it. The younger brother immediately jumped with a cheer, revealing his hiding spot as he rushed over to the puppet.

“That was like 15 yards away, brother! And the arrow went zoom!” The young child holds out his arm, pretending it was the arrow and how it flew, nearly falling over from the extra momentum and the dogs that jump and bump into his small frame.

“Master Jay, please be careful!”

The maid, a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair and white streaks, holds the ends of her skirt as she rushes across the field, her plump peach-colored face flushed. Jay ignores her completely, entertaining himself with the dogs and the straw deer, chasing them around with it.

“Marjorie, he is alright.”

She nearly jumps 10 feet in the air, turning around and coming face to face with the master of the house, Robyn Locksley. Who has a small smile, resting a firm, gentle hand on her shoulder with an apologetic grin and laugh. “You almost gave me a heart attack.” She presses her palms against her fast-beating heart, and he gives her a moment to gain her breath as he fixes the runaway strays of her hair, watching his brother from the corner of his eyes, watching Jay play happily with their two black and white hunting dogs.

“You called for me earlier. Was something wrong?”

Robyn holds out his arm, allowing the maid, one he’s known since childhood, to interlock their arms as they walk around the grassy field. She was the main maid in charge of Robyn’s everything, making sure that he had everything he could likely need, while his parents spent days away from the manor. Leaving their young son alone for days on end, a habit that didn’t change at the surprise arrival of Jay Locksley, who was born when Robyn was only sixteen.

So, while Marjorie took care of him, Robyn took care of Jay. Even after the Locksley name was ruined, all due to his father’s negligence and his mother’s embarrassment, who fled the moment it was declared by the Draconia Family that Robert Locksley had ruined their wealth and discarded their name and found dead in an alley in the next town over. Though his mother, Jane, died six years ago in a carriage accident.

Neither of the sons of Robert and Jane attended the funeral, at the request of her third husband.

“Goodness me! I almost forgot! Well, news has it that the courting season has changed from the Al-Asim Family to the Schoenheit Family, at the last minute’s notice—”

Robyn nods, giving an occasional hum as he listens. Knowing that it was better off to simply ramble on about whatever news and or drama she gained, speaking about all the speculated drama behind the sudden decision. Cause to her, quick and unusual change is never good.

Though Robyn is curious. A sudden change three months before courting season, he can imagine quite the mad faces of some of the more prominent families. Having to rearrange everything to fit the more regal attitude the Schoenheit’s had, instead of the more freeing vibe that the Al-Asim’s conveyed.

“It could possibly be tied to Kalim Al-Asim and his secret lover?” Robyn holds back a laugh but is not unable to stop a sly smile from spreading across his lips.

“I assume it is another story from the market?” Robyn watches her face go slightly pink, making Robyn know immediately that he’s correct. He laughs, watching her wave him off in a playful fashion. “All rumors hold a bit of truth.”

“That they do.”

They continue walking, Marjorie going back to her conjectures, Robyn adding input here and there, his bright blue eyes gazing along the gardens located on the side of the house, the grassy ground shifting into gravel, crossing past a flowery hedge into the fruit and vegetable gardens. His eyes surveyed each plant, silently searching for any growing berries and fresh, vibrant tomatoes. After finding nothing of interest, his gaze moves to the thick tree line that surrounded the entire Locksley Manor. Located on the furthest outskirts of the large bustling town, hidden within the green land forests. Marjorie continues,

“And it is to be held at the Pomefiore Manor!” Robyn turns to her, his full attention, his brows pulling together in shock and surprise. The Schoenheit family had two famous manors, the Schoenheit Manor where all events are held in relation to the family, and the Pomefiore Manor.

“The one in the Northern Mountains?” The maid nods, stopping in her tracks and pulling away as she rummages through her pockets, retrieving an elegant letter, and placed it in Robyn’s hands.

Pomefiore Manor is a manor of pure and utter elegance hidden within the towering northern mountains and shielded by flurries of never-ending winters. No one except the Schoenheit Family to be allowed that deep into the mountains. Others have tried, but none ever returned alive.

“Such an odd location... And so last minute...”

Robyn mutters under his breath, he’s spent time reading about the mountains and the mysterious snowstorm that follows, some say it was caused by a jealous queen who lost her love to another, and her cold bitter hurt would make those that once stood in her way suffer. While more logical, researchers blamed it on a strange influx of magic that forced the storm to never end. His gaze moves down to Marjorie, watching her anxious-filled expression. Robyn gently presses a hand against her head, his lips curling into a smile.

“I’ll be alright. I was invited, so there should be no worries.”

“You’ll be away for six months. Oh dear,” She leans against Robyn, leaning her full weight against him like a mother would her very own son. He allows her, indulging in the slight smell of honey that surrounds her. Marjorie continues to ramble as she pulls away. Robyn watches her talk aloud, speaking to herself, then to others.

“How would I ever—you’re off to getting married? I need to prepare. We only have three months—Dear Seven—” You watch her walk from the garden and towards the back of the house. Robyn follows behind her, slipping the letter into his pants pocket, as he watches her climb up the stone steps, still speaking to herself, stepping into the manor, clearly in her own world.

“What’s courting season?”

Jay pops up beside the young master of the house, holding a long stick, watching Marjorie before wide blue eyes look up at Robyn, dirt, and grass decorating his clothing. Robyn lets out a low hum, roughing up his brother’s hair, ignoring the gentle ‘hey!’, as Jay tries to duck away.

“It’s like a long party. I’ll be looking for a spouse—Though,” The master of the house trails off, a grin spreading across his lips, watching Jay try to fix his short messy red hair, that’s always messy, even after Robyn spends 15 minutes in front of a mirror, trying to style his unruly hair before giving up. Watching Jay try and slick his hair back, squinting his eyes to look cool, making Robyn laugh when the hair practically bounced back into place.

“—I’ll be away for six months.”

The two siblings walk side by side. Jay, with similar bright blue eyes, bounds happily beside his sibling, attracting the attention of the playful hunting dogs, who zip and dart between the two.

“For six months... That is a long, long time.” Robyn’s brother sways as he walks, purposely bumping into his brother, who uses his hand to entertain the dogs, feeling them playfully nip and bite at his fingers, and chasing the siblings as they walk.

“It is—You will be alright; Marjorie and Arthur will take of you.”

Marjorie and Arthur are the only two remaining maids and butlers to the Locksley Estate. The two manage everything within the large, empty manor. Marjorie is in charge of the inside of the manor, while Arthur handles all outer duties. Occasionally, the two siblings help in secret, dusting and sweeping, maintaining the gardens, and handling the large dogs.

“But it’ll be lonely without you—”

Jay wraps his arms around his brother’s waist, stopping the two in their tracks, Robyn gently combing his fingers through his brother’s hair. His lips pulled into a frown, the last few years, since the fall of the Locksley name, everything has been nothing but hectic, meaning Robyn missed his other courting season, leaving him with only this year and the next before he’s considered ineligible, which could possibly leave the two homeless. And though every fiber in his being wants to remain with his brother—nor does he truly desire a spouse—this is one of his ‘noble’ duties.

“I’ll visit. Once a month, if possible... Our situation is no secret.”

Jay is aware of their social standing. Aware of who exactly their parents were, Robyn had no reason to paint his parents in a good light. Sparing no expense to hide the truth in bits and pieces. Jay knows they’re nobles with no riches, nobles alone in status, merely because King Draconia pitied them, and swore that they could properly regain their title if Robyn worked and proved that the Locksley family was worth helping.

Though becoming a proper noble matters little to none to the Head of the Family, it’s merely a title that comes with a following never-ending headache, and if Robyn could—he very well would rid himself of it. Yet, he crouches to his brother’s level, his hands gently squeezing his shoulders. Jay’s eyes look glossed over in worry, his bottom lip poking out as he frowns.

“You’ll be in my thoughts. Always.”

Robyn Locksley has a brother to protect, to care for, whom he loves more than any other. His only family—besides Marjorie and Arthur—and closest friend. Jay nods, his pouting lips curling into a small mischievous smile as his hands tug at the bottom of his shirt. “Then—Can you help me shoot some more?”

Robyn gasps, clearly being tricked by his brother, “I knew those tears were fake!”

Robyn attacks his brother in a flurry of tickles, bringing his sibling into his embrace, wrestling Jay in his arms, causing him to giggle and laugh, fighting back and losing terribly. “No! No! Robyn! Please!” He shouts in between giggles, the dogs barking and yapping happily, knocking over both Robyn and Jay as they practically pounce onto the two, sending them all to the floor, giving Jay a chance to wiggle and squirm away, darting away in a fit of laughs and giggles. Robyn kneels in the grass, green blades coating parts of his clothing, hair, and face, hands resting on his knees. Jay sticks out his tongue, urging the dogs to come get him, leaving Robyn alone for a moment.

Courting Season.

It’s six months long and, unlike any of the other bachelors and bachelorettes, who flaunt and flounce, wearing their name proudly, the Locksley family cannot. ‘If not for myself... then for you,’ Jay darts around with the dogs, smile large and blue eyes happily wide. Robyn can’t remember the last time he’s seen his brother so happy, the last time he’s been so present. Not simply sparing a glance, but spending a moment with his brother after his long trips, to only leave again.

Trying to undo all his father did. Trying to prove his worth to the ever-reigning Draconia Family, who at any moment displeased with Robyn Locksley, could take everything away. Robyn pushes off the ground, wiping off the dirt and grass, his gaze turning to the large house. Whatever connection Robyn felt, whatever love for the manor—whatever love for his Locksley name ceased to exist years ago. It’s nothing but a house within his name, but to Jay—even as he knows the truth, the manor means something to him. That represents something that Robyn is quite unsure of.

“Master Robyn! Master Jay! Lunch is ready!” Marjorie’s voice shouts aloud, carrying a tray out and to the sitting area located at the top of the stairs, Arthur helping her keep the glass doors open.

Jay immediately is on his feet, racing towards the garden stairs, the two hunting dogs yapping and running after the young boy. A short happy huff lips past Robyn’s lips, walking towards the manor with a small smile.

══════ •✦• ══════

Courting Season.

A season in which all elegant bachelors and bachelorettes take a break from the pressures of society, gathering together to expand their family name and grow their riches by finding a spouse. There are no expectations of love, but connections. That is the goal, to connect and grow. Win it all or lose everything. Failure results in shame, and the Draconia refuses to have shame attached to them.

Courting Season is divided into two, the Spring Court and the Summer Court.

The Spring Court [March, April, May]:

The Court of Spring is the beginning of all festivities and gives a chance for everyone to scope out potential suitors and enjoy the fun without absolute commitment.

For most of the spring, the bachelors and bachelorettes remain separate. Getting to know one another and gaining companions. The more socially accepted you are, the less likely you’ll have competition in finding a good partner.

The Summer Court [June, July, August]:

The Court of Summer, this is the latter half of all festivities. During this time, one should already have mutually picked their suitor for the last three months, spending this time to bond more, whether romantically or for future business endeavors.

At this point, most have selected their main interest and attempt to spend the latter half trying to know them. While others, pleased with their connections but have no desire for romance, spend the last three months enjoying the festivities, but must show a sign that they are out of the running and uninteresting.

Origin of Courting Season: Created and in placed by one of the great kings of Briar Valley, as a way to keep the rich with the rich and keep the poor with the poor.

This idea has changed very little over time, due to the expansion of how many noble families exist beneath Draconia’s control.

ACT TWO:

“This above all; to thine own self be true.” - Shakespeare

The Huntsman can’t help but smile, turning his gaze to the growing crowd, as carriages of different sizes and colors move in staggered lines, traveling up the rocky dirt road, lined with elegant floral bushes, filling the air with the gentle scents of lavender and jasmine, guiding them towards the gleaming manor of violet, white, and gold. Feeling the cool spring air bite at his cheeks, he slides off the towering tree branch, falling to the ground in simply ease. Emerald eyes subtly memorized each landau that stood out before landing on a bright red and gold wooden carriage, pulled by two elegant black stallions.

“J’aime bien celui-là.”

══════ •✦• ════════════ •✦• ══════

This is the beauty of the Pomefiore Manor.

It is a celebratory night, the first night of Courting Season, the first night before everyone is separated for the first three months. Yet that is the farthest thought from everyone’s mind. For some, it is their first time away from home, away from the suffocation of their titles. For others, this is a usual scene and a moment for them to take a break from their hectic life and bask in simplicity. For others, this is business, not a vacation.

DEAR ROBYN LOCKSLEY,

Greetings from the Draconia Family.

We hope all is well and wish you a very joyful and eventful courting season. May the odds be in your favor, and you find the perfect lover. We have written to you to speak gaily and thank you for all of your dedicated help, but we are also afraid that even after years of service, it is simply not enough. Your father was quite the foolish man and was built quite the debt, one you must repay. So sadly, I’m afraid that if you do not find a spouse of higher rank, you will be stripped of your title and all assets. Now don’t fear, this courting season is quite an extraordinary one, so have fun, be merry. For this might be your last time.

Best Wishes,

THE DRACONIA FAMILY

The words of the letter remain heavy upon his brain. Any formalities slipped out moreso on instinct than purpose, and barely remembering the faces of the different women and men that introduced themselves. Doing well to speak to the noble, only in name, rather than earned purpose. Which Robyn knows, aware of his name being spread across the ballroom like an uncontrolled wildfire, as others send him curious looks.

Looks he does well to ignore.

This had been on his mind for the last three months, in between preparations for his long journey, and making sure finances were in order. Making sure that Jay, Marjorie, and Arthur had all they needed while he was gone. He spent the days spending time with his brother, promising that six months would pass quickly that before they knew it, they’d be together again in the fall. While in the late night, he remained glued to his desk, furiously writing letters to different nobles and businessmen, trying to build any sort of safety net if he did fail in the task appointed by the Draconia Family. Spending nights within his bed, rereading the letter over and over.

Half of him wanted to make the unprompted journey to the Draconia Castle, demanding to speak with the King. Urge them to give him more tasks. To let him find some way to at least make sure his brother and the only two servants that he had were all right and cared for.

Though Robyn is certain that their solution would have Jay work for them. Not only does he lose the title of noble, but becomes a poorly treated servant. That thought alone forced Robyn to remain in the manor, doing well so as to not frighten the others.

He shakes the thought from his head. Suddenly very aware of his facial expressions, he forces a relaxed smile. Turning his gaze upon the crowded ballroom. Spotting some familiar faces and some not. Each and all dressed in the finest of silks and jewels, all wanted to show off to the Schoenheit heir, who has yet to make himself known.

Robyn stands against the towering white marble walls. As flickers of white and gold flames give way to bright light, placed upon hanging crystal chandeliers, as shoes tap and float against the polished floors. Dancing away with whoever filled their fancy, away from prying, judgmental eyes, with hands entwined and bodies close, dancing to the lovely orchestra.

Everyone during courting season has something to gain and something to hide.

The musicians, people that Robyn is sure that they have been alive far longer than him and have more than mastered the dark oak string instruments. The Locksley Head is certain that the orchestra is most definitely a gift from the Draconia Family. Seeing as no noble would accept less than the best, though Robyn is unsure of the last time he’s heard a live orchestra.

He holds the crystal flute glass, one practically forced into his hand the moment he stepped into the ballroom, occasionally sipping its sweet savory flavor that sends tingles down his tongue after every taste. There’s a subtle underlying flavor of alcohol. Yet the sweet flavor overpowers it greatly. He’s sure that there will be a few who make the mistake of drinking downing drink after drink.

Robyn softly sways to the music, far more interested in the different people, each seemingly comfortable in this environment. Not to say he hates dancing or even festivities, but it’s more enjoyable with someone, is it not?

Robyn’s blue eyes shifted across the enormous crowd that formed around the ballroom dance floor, mingling and gossiping—laughing at their own jokes and discussing the future events. Each within their own right, amazed with how elegant the first night seems to be, when Vil Schoenheit only had three months to prepare. While others knew that the moment Vil Schoenheit sent out invitations with a bouquet, that this year’s courting season—Vil Schoenheit's final courting season would be extravagant.

“Such a shame to only watch and never mingle—Though one can find beauty in simply people watching.”

The voice is like a cool summer breeze and has Robyn shuddering—once for the sudden cold and another out of pure surprise. A man, young, with short blonde hair, pulled into a low ponytail, and deep green eyes that betrayed nothing of his thoughts nor actions, but only showed his curiosity and amusement. He wears simple clothing, tight black pants, a white button-up shirt, and a black corset vest with green lace embellishments, with a simple black belt and a bow and quiver attached to his back.

Robyn glances over his form once more, before landing on his face. He’s watching the crowd. He can tell the strange man is a huntsman. The ends of Robyn’s lips curl. “People are the finest works of art.”

“Ils sont vraiment,” the huntsman says nothing more with a merry hum, occasionally glancing at the young nobleman, but keeping his gaze focused on the smiling faces of the people.

“From the way you’re dressed, you do not seem like a noble?” Robyn’s words make the man chuckle, earning his full attention, unlike before. He wears a bright smile, pressing a hand over his heart as he bows.

“That I am not. I am Rook Hunt, personal guard and huntsman to Vil Schoenheit.”

Robyn’s eyes widen at his words, watching Rook stand straight, a still amused smile upon his lips. “May I ask what gave me away, Mr. Robyn Locksley?”

“You know who I am?”

“Who would not? You arrived in such a crimson carriage. Such a red is quite beautiful.” Emerald eyes dart up to his hair, before resting back on Robyn’s face, unafraid of eye contact. Robyn lets out a low huff like laugh, crossing his arms, and tilting his head to the side. “You asked how I knew—”

“Oui.”

“You are simply underdressed.” The words make the huntsman laugh, a few eyes turning in their direction for the sudden loud laugh, unaware of the two.

“Such a simple fact and yet gave so much away. Tu es vraiment fascinant.” Rook wipes away imaginary tears, giving another shallow bow, as if apologizing. “Forgive me of my outburst, it is not often one speaks to me so freely.”

“Freely?” Darting past Robyn’s curiosity, his smile unfaltering, “You spoke as people being art, then we stand in a museum of moving pieces.”

A museum of moving pieces. Robyn follows Rook’s gaze, watching the crowd move and dance. No one is in the same position as before, some with their arms crossed when they once talked animatedly, some who drink when they once were eating.

“So much passes in so little time. How can one truly appreciate it without a photo?” How can one fully enjoy a moment when a moment so quickly passes? Robyn’s gaze moves to his flute glass, watching the bubbles form and pop, before turning his gaze back towards the crowd.

“That is the beauty of it.” Rook tears his eyes away, green eyes filled with so much honesty. For a moment, Robyn swears he sees Jay’s honest eyes. It has been so long since he’s met someone who’s so true to themselves.

“You speak of…” The words come out heavy, and weigh heavily upon his tongue, “beauty quite often… Why?”

Rook takes a moment to answer, though Robyn is certain that the huntsman doesn’t need a moment to think of response, but moreso for affect. “That is my life pursuit… To find beauty in all things.” Robyn’s eyes move towards the orchestra, watching them happily play, caught up in the melodies of their own music. He thinks back to the letter, one he folded and shoved into the deepest parts of his temporary dresser, unable to swallow the bitterness of it all. Robyn lets out a soft sigh, taking a large gulp of his drink, before speaking.

“In theory that would be easy… To find beauty in everything… Yet how do you look past the negative to see beauty?”

“You do not.” The Huntsman answers with ease, rocking on his heels with a smile, laughing at Robyn’s confused expression. “You take all for how it is and how it will be. Negativity is a fluid emotion—no one can avoid it, so you must learn how to see it for what it is. People will always have negativity—that is one of life’s absolutes. Yet that is not all people can be…”

“So, you find beauty in those that experience it and move past it?”

“And those who cannot—il y a de la beauté dans l’angoisse.”

Robyn finishes the bubbly drink, placing the crystal flute glass on the tray of a passing by servant, before turning to Rook with a grin. “I quite enjoy your company,” Robyn face slightly flushed, feeling the gentle buzz of alcohol in his system, yet he doesn’t stop, offering out a hand.

“May I ask you to accompany me to the gardens?”

══════ •✦• ══════

“Master Vil, many are awaiting your arrival.”

A short maid bows deeply keeping her face hidden as the Schoenheit heir finishes his hair. Pulled into a simple bun, adorned with crystals and jewels. His pink painted lips pressed together, fingers elegantly fixing the golden chain of his necklace.

“Tell me, has father said anything about the courting season?” His voice is low, while the elegant makeup brush is carefully dragged across the lid of his eye, unbothered to even look at the shuddering maid, who’s dressed in simply black and white, keeping herself in Vil’s shadow.

“He—um—The Master spoke of annoyance and disappointment, yet has said nothing else, Master Vil.”

Coating the purple eye shadow across his eyes, before switching to black eyeliner, he speaks again. “That is good, I suppose,” he moves to his other eye, “And have you seen Rook? I give him a moment to see all who has arrived, and he takes the time to simply go missing.” Vil speaks to himself before letting out a sigh, switching from the black eye shadow to a deep purple. He speaks directly to his maid.

“I am aware he has been mingling with guests, yet has yet returned, where is he?”

“Um, the gardens, I believe. He is entertaining Master Robyn Locksley.” Vil pulls the brush from his eye, staring at the two perfectly matching eyes, before placing the brush down and for once, turning to fully look at the maid. His blonde brows furrowed and lips in a low grimace.

“Robyn Locksley… If I am correct, he is a noble in name and of nothing else.” There is slight venom in his words, standing up from his vanity and towards the full-length mirror, once again checking to make sure his outfit is in order. The maid makes sure to stand behind him, keeping her hand over her heart and legs crossed in a low curtsy.

“Yes, that he is. But many say that the reason is due to Robyn Locksley having close ties to the Draconia Family. Which is why he is able to retain his title. Rumors say that it was Lord Malleus himself who gifted the Locksley with the crimson red carriage. Which has caught a lot of attention, I am certain that Master Robyn will have quite many who seek him.”

Vil clicks his tongue, heels clicking as he returns to his vanity, picking up the black eye liner, “I do not like rumors, yet if there is any truth in this—I assure you, Robyn Locksley has caught my attention.” He speaks under his breath, adding the wings onto his eyes, before clearing his throat.

“Prepare for my arrival. I want not a soul missing.”

ⓒ 2023 cvlutos — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.

#t.manor.writings #t.manor.commissions #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #rook hunt #Vil Schoenheit #original character #rook hunt x vil Schoenheit #rook hunt x oc #vil schoenheit x oc #rook x oc #vil x oc #rook x vil x oc #rook x vil #bridgerton au #twst x oc #twisted wonderland x oc #twst oc

[cloudcountry]

CONGRATS AUBURN!!! everyone is going through such an amazing milestone; so happy for you all! remember to take breaks in between, okay?? don't push yourself too hard <3

may i request rook hunt x my oc, siren? there's not much known about her, since she's not released yet, but she's a siren (ik im so good lmao) and really calm. she's the quiet to rook's behavior, yet she is sometimes really really like azul.

can this take place after rook's first date with her? the date can be totally up to you, i know you'll make it amazing as always!!!

<3 siren

my dearly beloved, i hope you enjoyed our outing.

you’re quite a dangerous one, getting me to talk of things i wouldn’t normally talk about. perhaps its that supernatural allure to yours, lovely siren of mine.

your song is made up of more than the love notes meant to lure sailors to their deaths. it’s made up of more than superficial longing and worldly pleasures. what i heard in your voice can only be described by the greatest of poets, but i am just a humble admirer of your beauty.

i heard flowers and sweet pastries in your song. i heard sunlit days and pounding heart beats and gentle kisses. i felt the wind and waves of the world around us in your song, made up of all things lovely and divine.

you are an ethereal experience.

i implore you to write back and tell me how you believe the date went. for i am desperate to hear your voice and see you again.

after the first outing with you, i doubt i will be able to ever let you go.

your most loyal servant,

rook hunt.

#im not doing ocs that arent my mutuals for this event btw #and even then i think this is the only oc request i'll accept #because the last time i did ocs the people whose ocs i wrote for didnt . Reblog. #i also saw that with your event siren. and it made me SO LIVID #I SAW YOUR STUFF GETTING ZERO NOTES AND I HAD TO RESIST THE URGE TO SCREAM ABOUT IT EVERY TIME I REBLOGGED YOUR WORK #like someone is writing something PERSONALIZED FOR YOU and you cant even APPRECIATE IT. #GAH some of you are . so frustrating. #im sorry ren youre an angel for putting up with that...i would not have. im still so fucking angry thinking about it. #siren <3 #auburn's 2.5k event <3 #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #rook hunt #disney twst #twst wonderland #rook hunt x oc #twst x oc #disney twst x oc #disney twisted wonderland x oc #twisted wonderland x oc

[yomogi-mogi-mochi]

Pygmalion (I)

Pairings: Rook/ (Pygmalion) MC // Idia/MC (Platonic)

Summary: You were frequently told that your career as a renowned sculptor did not match your dull and less than colorful personality. With your cybernetic hands, you carve the lives and deaths of those long gone‒ producing pieces which have been held in both technical and emotional high regard, dubbing you with the title “Pygm.AI.lion” despite your human heart and brain. When you accidentally still the usually flamboyant archer into silence after he comes across you working in your atelier‒ you find that you’ve become a victim to one of his ceaseless stalkings. Though, you’ve been prey long enough to know how hunt the huntsman himself.

Notes: Reader/OC based off of the myth of Pygmalion, but with a twist of sci-fi/cybernetic enhancements courtesy of the Shroud family. Rook is certainly a tricky character to write because part of his characterization being “mysterious and distant”, but as all humans have, there are layers underneath this simplicity that I thought would be interesting to explore through the avenue of the artist and the cyborg. GN pronouns and TW for some grooming, toxic adult presence, human experimentation mentioned (none of which are perpetrated by Twst characters). Also, inspired by "Apathy Wrapped in Kindness" by @twst-hanaya

CW: Human experimentation, verbal abuse in coming chapters

AO3 Link Here.

Part 1 (Here) // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6

Masterlist

————————————————-

Cold blood that gradually began to pump through your plastic arteries and into your preserved heart traced your emerging body from the darkness of your recovery pod. Your synthetic arms twitched as the pod brought you into an upright position, and though the consistent palpitation of liquid throughout your cybernetic body prevented blood from rushing to your head, it took a few heavy breaths for your eyes to adjust to this resurrection that occurred every morning. Stepping out of the container, you felt the weight of your body return, swaying your head a bit as you pulled on your new Ignihyde uniform.

The floating tablet read: “Function: stable”, illuminating your room in a ghostly blue in confirmation of your body’s successful resurrection. An icon floated below it, a glowing version of the photo sitting on your desk, the man in the photo piercing his gaze into yours as if to scold you for your late morning as he had done centuries before. “Good morning Doctor Krios.*”, you greeted as always, before heading out for the Headmage’s office to finalize your delayed enrollment.

“Ah! Finally, (name), I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up!”

“Good morning, Headmage Crowley. I apologize for the delay.” You bowed towards him, watching him shuffle through a mess of papers on his desk. “Is this what you are looking for?” Picking up a file with your name stamped on the front, you handed it to Crowley.

He beamed. “Ah! Yes, exactly that. You robots are so useful with your sensors and such.”

“I am not a robot.”

“Because I am so kind‒ I will forgive you for your delay!” The headmage completely ignored your statement. Not that you really cared. He flipped through several pages of the file, before pulling one out and shoving it in front of your face. “Now, here is your schedule. Since you are a sculptor, and because I am so gracious‒ I took the liberty of setting up a tour led by one of our brightest third year art students before the week begins.” Just then, a knock was heard at the office doors.”Ah, right on cue. Come in!”

The heavy walnut doors opened, revealing a tall blonde with a purple uniform, and wide brimmed, purple hat to match. The red feather on it swooshed as he brought it to his chest, adorning a fox-like smile on his slender face.

“Enchante, Maître d’Ivoire. My name is Rook Hunt, vice dorm leader of the Pomefiore dorm and your guide today.” He sat his hat back on his head, reaching his hand out for a handshake. “What an honor it is to finally meet the one and only ‘Pygm.AI.lion’!”

You took his hand into your artificial one, tasting the warmth that came from the red blood flowing underneath his skin. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is (Name) Jupiter. I don’t go by Pygm.AI.lion.” A look of surprise adorned his face when you mentioned the name.

“Likewise, I apologize, I’ve only seen you associated with that name. And,” he lifted a hand to rest his knuckles under his chin in an inquisitive manner. “Jupiter? Of the Jupiter Enterprises?”

You nodded. “Yes. That Jupiter. My cybernetics that were the first in the world to be as automated as they are, were produced by the scientists of Jupiter Enterprises.” You explained, reminded of Dr.Krios’ words. You are the precious child to all in the Jupiter Family. It was as if you could feel him holding your beating heart in his hands once more, stringing various tubes and needles through them.

“Alright, you two. You have much to see, go on now!” The headmage shooed you away, returning to the pile of papers on his desk. Rook held the door open for you, before closing it behind him to lead you on your tour.

“So,” Rook began, pointing his sharp gaze to the bionic components peaking through your Ignihyde uniform. “how ever did a robot‒ excuse me‒ AI make their way into Night Raven College?”

“I am not a robot. Nor am I an AI.” You simply stated. “And a carriage arrived at the lab one day, just like any of the other students here.”

“My apologies. It seems the information on you spread by the media is unfortunately very lacking, I’m a fan of your work. Ah, may I see your schedule?” You handed him your schedule. He hummed in thanks. “What are you then, Maître d’Ivoire?”

“A cyborg.” The hungry glint in his eyes seemed a bit dissatisfied with your curt answer.

“Interesting, I do not see any human components‒ though that synthetic skin is very convincing‒ it reminds me of a student here, Ortho Shroud, you’ll meet him eventually.” He tipped his neck forward to get a better look at your bare skin.

You hummed, gaze stilled forward, a bit bored of his interrogation. Though you were used to pompous aristocrats hogging your time with their ceaseless blabbering of their own mediocre lives, this was equally as dull. You weren’t here really to make friends or experience the school life‒ just to escape the invasive testing and prodding back at the lab now that Dr.Krios was finally gone, which unfortunately ended the little protection you had under him. You ignored Rook’s first statement, reminded of the human heart and brain that were not able to be bionically replaced during your reconstruction. “I already know of him. He’s a member of the Shroud family, after all.” Rook swung his neck back, looking at the paper between his fingers.

“Mon dieu!” His volume made you wince your eyes, cringing at the sudden outburst. “I must be blessed by the great seven‒ we have the same period for art! How lucky am I to lay these eyes directly upon your creations! Ah, I simply cannot wait….” Rook tittered, a Iively energy singing in his footsteps, before he stops in front of heavyset double doors. “This room here is actually the art classroom.” He leads you into a closed classroom, a spacious floor with various mediums stored in all corners of the room. Your eyes shifted towards the unfinished marble structures clustered at the lengthy windows letting in golden sunlight that bounced off the soft skin of the figures. Despite most sculptures being half finished, there were no preliminary wax, clay, or plaster sculptures in sight*. With leisure movements, you circled around the forms, scrutinizing each crevice of soft marble, observing a bit in disappointment. Amateur technique, you thought. But you excuse it with the fact that this was not a specialized college for the arts, and rather one with magic; as well as your eyes being trained through centuries of perfecting your own carving technique, enabled by the prolonged life the cybernetic enhancements allowed you.

“Do we have an atelier here? Or just this classroom?” You asked, resuming an upright position to look at Rook, observing you with an amused look swimming in his eyes. You felt like you were being slowly trapped under the viridian of his gaze, tracking every movement of your synthetic muscles and whir of your polymer joints to trail you back to the inner processing of your brain. His name was fitting, you thought, you felt hunted by the slender slits on his face. However you were used to such hungry color saturating the eyes that met your form‒ so you paid no mind, silently stalking his movements back‒ a game of par force*. His lips curved into a smile that was not at all kind, sorry, or warm‒ but rather, above all, polite. It was with a cool distance stretching far into his eyes that you had become accustomed to within yourself, over the centuries of bearing the weight of time like a feather.

“Unfortunately no, just this classroom. Does this space not satisfy you?”

“I’d rather have more space to work with all of my tools at my disposal. This place is lacking in terms of proper maintenance and available materials. The oils and other mediums of this room will taint the stone, and I don’t see a single block of wax in sight.”

Your guide let out a laugh. “As expected from Maître d’Ivoire, I can certainly lend you the key to one of the abandoned sheds in the gardens on campus…” he decorated an artful smile on his face, positioning his hand below his chin as if to think. You quirked your eyebrow.

“Great. Take me there.”

“Ah but alas, I have one request.” He dangled the keys on a hooked finger. “I am a devotee to archaeology and unearthing ancient beauties which sleep beneath this earth you see. I happen to catch wind of the fact that you bear direct knowledge of ancient techniques, lost to the modern day?*” He eyes scanned your response through the brim of his hat, measuring the change in your features with the knowledge that he knew of your extended life. You didn’t really care much, he didn’t seem like the type to be going around and sharing people’s business.

“If you allow me to stop by periodically to study your technique, I will lend you this key in my hand.” His hand reached out to seal the deal. “What do you say, Maître d’Ivoire?”

You weighed out the options. On one hand, this guy seemed to be a hassle to deal with and you didn’t like people disturbing you during your process…on the other hand, even if you were able to avoid him during class, it wouldn’t matter if your final product would turn out imperfect and even potentially damaged. Which seemed likely with the clumsy handiwork you observed in the sloppy expressions decorating marble. You took his hand into yours, reflecting his own hunger in the glass of your bionic eyes. “Alright, we have a deal.”

He shook your hand with vigor. “Magnifique! Splendid! Surely, you will not regret this.” You wiggled your hand out of his tight grasp, already drained from his antics. Gods, you hoped the students of this school weren’t all like this.

————————————————-

It was good this time period was full of technological innovations that made your life much easier than it had been when you were younger. Ah the marvels of technology, it made transferring all of your materials and works from the lab to your new atelier much easier rather than having to haul heavy materials from the lab, to your dorm, onto campus‒ not that it would be an issue with your cybernetics. Still, you were thankful that with a simple click of a button, everything was sent over with expedited shipping. You arrived early in the morning to unpack everything, picking the heavy materials up with ease with the help of your enhanced strength.

You were eager to get to work‒ finally out of the lab that scrutinized every move of yours. Do this, make that, carve this, don’t do that. You didn’t necessarily think sculpting was a personal expression for you per say, but you were tired of having to make such lifeless art appealing to the easily amused mob of aristocrats and stuffy high end clients that swamped your galleries. The rhythm in which you tapped your hammer onto the pointed chisel echoed through your gloves, into the microscopic sensors on your synthetic skin, reverberating into your metallic skeleton and into your human heart. You quietly relished the feeling so close to warm flesh.

“Such dutiful dedication! Already at work, I see.” Rook beamed, rested his hand on his chin, examining the detailed ivory ornaments sitting next to your drafting desk. Your flow interrupted, your hand hovered over the stone, phasing out of your automated trance. “Oh, apologies for interrupting.” He weaved through the statues littering the room making his way towards you.

Bit late for that goddammit.

“Just…knock next time.” You say monotonously. Anger would only feed them, him. Rook hummed in response.

“What are you working on?”

You motioned towards the wax sculpture next to you, he bent his neck down to examine it closer.

“What is this supposed to be?” His head turned to the side, positioning it to see if it would give him a better perspective.

“Whatever it wants to be.” You stated, getting back into the rhythm. In your mind there was no intention, no meticulously crafted idea that came deep within. An image descended to you like a dream, and you thawed it out, warming the figure of a life and death chilled by the stillness of time. You merely carved this life and death into stone‒ taking the past into your hands and infusing it to this present moment. Historians, archaeologists, and academics often labored over the meanings of your work‒ and you let them, knowing they would never understand the lack of novelty or personal intention within your creations, induced by the experience of eternity washing over you like a light breeze hardening in your still beating human heart.

“Whatever it wants to be?” His eyes held surprise above all, trained on your hands as his own pulled out a purple pen and leather notepad.

“Whatever it wants to be. The years I’ve lived have made me an observer to humanity.” Your gloved hands worked with a lightness almost impossible to the heavy mechanical components packed inside your synthetic skin. “I am possessed by it.”*

A hardened smile grew on his lips, as he steadied his hand on the surface of the notepad. “Beaute‒ such inspiring words! Such love and beauty felt through your art…” He scribbled something down on the paper.

“Love? Art? Beauty? No. This is not art, not knowledge‒ it is possession. Possession of life, of death, of ugliness, of nuance no longer…” found within yourself. You reeled yourself from your daze, pausing mid-way through your sentence. Perhaps you had lied when you said you weren’t an AI. An AI can only replicate the human brain efficiently because it cannot do so with the human heart‒ because when a heart emerges, it becomes something entirely new‒ too fearful, too longing, too passionate it then yearns, it wants more, more, more‒ feel something, reach out, call out, the heart says. It is not an AI then, it becomes a monster. That voice existed in you at some point in time, but now you merely stand in front of it to reflect if onto stone. Your gloved hands trembled when you stopped your hammer. To lull them, you continued your rhythm. This French bastard was really messing with your flow, humming carelessly as he continued to scribble in his notepad.

You two sat in silence after that, you continuing your work with the material as he sat and studied your every move before he announced it was time for lunch. Wanting to continue with your piece, you merely hummed in response, glad that he was no longer scrutinizing you under that falcon-like gaze. This hunt didn’t feel as dehumanizing as it was in the lab, but it definitely kept you on your guard enough that it was disturbing your usual rapid pace with production. But maybe it was because, for the first time in a while, it was not mere production‒ you had to allow yourself to be possessed by humanity, rather than the vapid requests of the people in lab coats or garish jewelry. Hearing Rook close the door, you ascended into a deep trance, your hands dancing across the surface of the marble to realize the vision.

————————————————-

The joints in your arm rasped with exhaustion when you finished the piece. Stretching your stiffened body, you searched the room for your maintenance box, hoping it wasn’t buried in the several boxes that littered the corners that you had forgotten to unpack. Finding it under your drafting table, you opened it, revealing various tools to tweak the cybernetics on your body for better performance. You grabbed a wrench, opening a compartment on your arm before loosening the tension within it with a few twists.

“Bonsoir, still in the studio at this late hour?” You turned to the voice, revealing Rook, the crimson feather on his head bobbing as he waltzed into the atelier. Giving a grunt in response, you continued to work on the weariness of your arm.

“I was just about to lock up since I’m finished.”

“Won’t you indulge me in your latest creation?” That smile, those hungry eyes again.

You let out a silent huff through your nose, getting up to flick on the light that illuminated the sculpture. There lay a hunk of marble that held its fleshy luster under the delicate layers of plaster and wax you stratified on top of the stone‒ emerging from it a disembodied figure resembling the pose of a crouched fetus despite its large, meaty form, cracked and dismembered. The wax, dyed in splotchy bursts of red, glowed pink like human tissue under the warm lamp, and supple like soft skin you could almost squeeze. You were satisfied with your handiwork today, this was exactly the image which descended upon you‒ fleshy, poignant, ghostly, writhing with hot blood. You had once known her, the figure imprinted onto the stone. She always wore a woeful smile on her flowery face until the sickness overtook her entire body. The last night you met with her to hold her hand through the eternal darkness, she cried like a worn infant, rasping in your ear a covet for another life, sweet as a summer’s child. You don’t remember her name, or your tears‒ but you remember the feather light touch of her fingers and salt on your tongue. Her divine thirst seized your hands today‒ and you carved it into the tender wax over soft marble.

You curiously looked over at Rook, who turned his back to you, stilled at the moment you flickered the lights. Stepping closer, you saw that he had an unreadable, if not, slightly perturbed expression on his face‒ the creases made between his deep set eyes feeling unnatural to his demeanor. Drinking it in with slight surprise, you stepped back quietly, gathering your tools in your canvas wrap case to let him sort out..whatever was happening to him.

“This is…different from your usual pieces, no?”

“My usual pieces are patroned by Jupiter Enterprises. I have no patron currently so I can allow my sculptures to do as they like.”

“You speak as if…this is alive.”

A phantom sensation grazed your palm. “It is very much so. I can even make it more alive, but I won’t do that.” Rook looked at you, searching your flat expression for an answer. Ah, you had forgotten Dr.Krios had framed your sculptures as a technological wonder, rather than a result of your magic. Grabbing an ivory sculpture off of your shelf, you pulled off your glove with your teeth. “With my touch, Aphrodite’s Kiss,”* the creature began to flutter in your hands. “I can animate my carvings.” The bird chirped, snuggling its soft ivory wings into your hold hands, before it began to gradually lose the lively jitter of its body, petrifying it before its heart stopped. “But it does not last for long. It will harden again before its short lived life is over.” You carefully set the bird back in its spot, encasing your synthetic hand back in the glove. How desperately you wanted to lock your hands inside that fabric to veil them for eternity, or tear them off your body entirely. But your body shook with a quiet tremor, even with the cold blood and metal‒ create, create, create.

Rook observed your movements silently, then slowly turned his head back to the pink statue, lips pursed in a thin line, breathing slowly rising his chest up and down.

“Not her though, it would be cruel.”

He flashed a polite, distanced smile again. “Thank you for indulging me. Sweet dreams, Maître d’Ivoire.” A gloved hand tipped his hat as he bade his goodbye, leaving you in the chilled room, sharp eyes tracking his movements. A slight fragrance of bitter anger wafted from his passing expression‒ you felt that it wasn’t directed towards you, but it also seemed it wasn’t not directed towards you. You weren’t really sure. Gathering your supplies, you readied yourself for a full schedule tomorrow, hopefully with less weird students than the one that you met today.

————————————————-

Notes:

Much of the cybernetic inspiration comes from media like Ghost in the Shell, Battle Angel Alita, Violet Evergarden, etc.. since I grew up with them during my childhood in my mother country lol. But also some of it comes from my academic research area, mainly addressing feminism and queer theory through the allegory of the cyborg (ie Cyborg Manifesto by Donna Haraway). I hope to continue with these ideas because I think it’s such an interesting concept that holds a lot of relevance to our current world.

Krios is a translation of “Aries” in Greek‒ both a representation of the animal symbolizing the god of war, and the god of death (black ram specifically). Like a ram, both war and death stops for no one, and charges straight through with force. Kind of like a mad scientist breeching on ethical codes lol

Marble sculptors usually make preliminary drafts made of more malleable materials like clay, plaster, or wax to tackle any potential technical issues that might have to deal with. Also results in a better replication of soft things like skin and fabric because of the malleable material. Kind of like a sketch, studies, or etchings that oil painters do before starting their piece.

Par Force: A style of hunting used for centuries, which became the preferred method of hunting during the medieval period during the cultural shift of hunting to an activity for nobles, because it was considered to be the “purest” and most elegant form, requiring lots of technical and intellectual skill in heightening danger within a controlled context. It basically exhausts (some theorize heat exhaustion) the prey into yielding. However some, even during this period, claimed that this was not pure‒ and liked to take their prey with “gentleness” and “nobility” with a bow and arrow or with traps, favoring the process and rituals to the hunt rather than say, exhausting the biggest hunt to capture it. ALSO hunting has a lot of romantic/sexual implications during medieval periods (especially in France, as they decorated many illuminated manuscripts, tapestries, and wooden chests) so I’ll definitely be using this analogy a lot lol

Though ivory sculpting has been traditionally used in ornamental pieces since prehistoric times, it was usually a very rare and expensive material to work with before the colonization (robbery) of Africa in the 19th century. Though marble is favored for sculptures with human forms because its luster is similar to that of human skin‒ ivory was favored in religious and decorative objects (mostly for high political/social classes like the church or the Chinese royal dynasty) because of its softness, creamy color, and smooth grain/texture. Ivory is also the tusks of elephants or walruses, so it’s hard to create grandeur with just size alone, so many ivory sculptures are extremely detailed.

Unlike metal it also can’t be recycled or reused, so not only is it a precious material to start with, but it also becomes even more important over time because its higher survival rate (used a lot in Byzantine art, and we actually still have a lot of well-preserved pieces, such as the throne of Maximianus).

Unfortunately because ivory doesn’t survive so well underground or in certain climates, our knowledge of Ancient Greek ivory carving is very restricted, though most Roman (the later half towards Constantine’s rule) are well preserved because they were kept above ground in church treasuries. So most of our knowledge on Ancient Greek ivory sculpting comes from the plaques and relief carvings of the Roman/Byzantine times. So I think Rook would be very interested, as an aspiring archaeologist, to get the inside scoop about Ancient Greek ivory carving, especially as its trade has been forbidden since the late 20th century.

In the Odyssey when describing the materials for the palace of Menelaos as “the heavenly palace…There was a gleam there, which was like the gleam of he sun of the moon…I want you to notice something, so of Nestor, you who are so dear to my heart. Notice the flash of bronze as its ight pervades the echoing hall and also the flash of gold and of electrum and of silver and ivory. I’m guessing that Zeus, who lives on Olympus, has such a hall inside his palace, and he would have as many indescribable things as are here. A sense of holy awe takes hold of me as I look at these things.”

Ivory is illustrated as a material favored by the gods, specifically to Zeus. SIDENOTE‒ the Iliad/Odyssey are set during the Mycenaean Greece (though written during Archaic/Ancient Greece) and therefore Zeus is not yet the headgod he is known to be in the Hellenistic Pantheon (Mycenaean Greece put more of a emphasis on Chthonic/Underworld gods like Psidon, who fulfilled the head god role). But Homer go off I guess I get what you’re trying to say‒ Ivory is a material favored by the gods, and even associated with the head god of the time period it was written in.

Side note to side note: there are so many inconsistencies like this in Homer’s narratives lol. Like Aphrodite isn’t even found in any Mycenaean texts but she’s like the main person responsible for the Trojan war?? Make it make sense lmao

In Plato's Ion, he discusses with Socrates how artists preform and create. He states that art is form of divine possession and inspiration, a type of divine madness that acts as a vessel to gods' truth. It comes not solely from a place of knowledge but experience and inspiration (capturing the essence). I think this would definitely be an interesting perspective to take with art (not one I personally believe in), especially with a being infused with the eternity of time.

The piece was inspired by both Medardo Rosso’s The Golden Age (L ‘Ea d’oro) (the materials and technique), and Jean Fautrier’s Sarah ad Petit nu Assis (the form and concept). I wanted to mainly focus on abstract pieces for the stuff created outside of the lab since it elicits a feeling, an experience, and a life and death than an image. Tachisme, which is the art movement Jean Fautrier belongs to, also is very intuitive‒ so I wanted to show the essence of memory‒ something which doesn’t take a clear form but can still make us feel depth and emotion. Memory is also something which betrays our heart and mind in the end as well, so that is also something which shows that there is still humanity inside the character, despite their willful distance away from it.

Rook is a bit ticked off when he can’t really intellectualize your art, because I think he sees beauty as truth above anything else, which can only really be pulled from objective reality and observation (explains his vote for RSA‒ he saw that the students had passion in what they did, rather than justifying his vote with his adoration for Vil). So when he can’t really put a finger on what makes his body feel the beauty of the piece, he feels like he’s being denied a part of him‒ which is something that instills a cold anger and green inside him because I think he really values “I” in the holistic sense. He won’t give parts of himself to anyone because of this greed‒ he wants to take things and run‒ hunt, kill, and move on to the next thing. Also why he admires Trey for the respectable distance he keeps from others because Rook himself wants to maintain that distance from almost everyone. He’s so complicated lmao

Aphrodite’s Kiss is a reference to the original myth of Pygmalion‒ in which Pygmalion quietly pleads to Aphrodite to bring his beloved Galatea to life. When he goes home to kiss his ivory statue, he finds that her lips are warm and soft, discovering that the goddess grande his wish. Thought it’d be cute, ya know?

#twisted oc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland angst #twisted wonderland x reader #ao3 fanfic #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #rook hunt #mozus trein #twisted wonderland malleus #twisted wonderland rook #twisted wonderland rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt x oc #rook x reader #twisted wonderland rook hunt x reader #twisted wonderland rook x reader #twisted wonderland hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #vil shoenheit #twisted wonderland vil schoenheit #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland fan fiction #twisted wonderland x you #angst #ao3 writer #Pygmalion

[miss-atena]

Hello, person whom i may or may not share a home with, it is i, simply the most guy of guys, i would like to request a simple oc (u know who) x Rook Hunt, where, possibly, Rook finds out that he has been the muse of a certain someone, if u cant or dont want to write thats ok too, drinks lots of water btw xoxo

--ur best bud ¬u¬

Ehehehe KrisRook content my beloved òwó I got u covered bro (btw sorry i wrote Kris name wrong on the other post, i forgro to change it, i'll do it after i post this teehee)

Rook Hunt x Kristoffer Hartdagger - aMUSEing

Normally the Arts and Crafts club is a silent place, with only some ambient songs from the club's collab playlist as a company to the artists all in their zone. Today started no different, the club president presenting them today with a simple mindless doodle session before them getting into the more ellaborate club activities. Kris stayed very much in his zone as always, being the softspoken and shy boy he is. on his normal seat, with a sketchbook and some colored lead eraseable pencils, he doodled. Except everyone around noticed how he would sigh and stare at his doodles. The truth is, for a while Hartdagger had been in love. He just never opened up with anyone but his bestfriend Moira about it. "Ah~Monsieur Spotted, I see you're on art duties. Beuté!" "AHHH!" Kris was close to throwing the sketchbook up in the air in fear from the oh so common voice he grew to love. Rook Hunt seemed to be observind the club... again. "ROOK! GO AWAY! SHOO SHOO!" The club leader tried shooing the man away, but to no avail. he made his seat next to Kris, looking politely at the club president. "Ah, monsieur artiste, I can guarantee I will behave according club rules during my stay, you have not to worry!" "I-I... Sir, I can keep an eye on him... I-if you want it, that is,, i'm not forcing it in aniway i'm sorry if i seem like-" "Keep him from touching anything and it's all good Kris, if he gives you trouble i'll just call the headmage." "Right. Okay. sorry..." during the small conversation, Kris failed to observe Rook's head getting closer and closer to his space, until he could quite literally feel the brim of his hat touch his forehead. "My, my... I knew you liked to draw people, Monsieur Spotted, but never thought i would be a form of inspiration for you. Such magnificence, so much attention to the details." "Eep! You were... you... were staring at my doodles?!" Kris hugged the book to his chest "don't mind it! really!" "Why, it is a beautiful! If you ever are in need of a muse, I will be happy to provide! La chasseur d'amour will always provide the inspirations to seek the beauty in all!" While others only groaned, Kriss mumbled something under his breath. It seemed almost unaudible, but to a pair of trained hunter's ears, it was as clear as day: "you already are my muse" Rook kept his composure, but of course, the hunter had the affirmation of the prey, and now he is ready to get it for himself. "Perhaps you would enjoy a posing session later on Pomefiore?" Kris stared at Rook, face already flushes since the moment Rook invaded the boy's personal space, but he didn't have in him to deny, so he slowly nodded. Rook was going to say something, when he heard the common call of Vil for his Vice Housewarden's aid. Rook smiled sweetly before stooding up "It seems Roi du Poison is in need of my hunting skills, but fret not, for I'll come back at when the meeting ends! Trés Bien!" As soon as Rook left, and everyoned seemed more at ease, the president went to Kris "Hey... Thanks for the help but..." "Yes, sir?" "Do you know how does he know when the meetings end when we have it end in different times each day?" Rook Hunt things, were all everyone could assume.

Hope u like it! I never wrote Rook and I saw almost nothing of him yet so I'm getting used to him still!

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #thanks for the request! #twst wonderland #twst fanfic #twst rook #rook hunt #rook hunt x oc #Rook hunt x Kristoffer Hartdagger #anon ask #tena writing

[yuuniee]

— 💓 Surprise!!

I feel like writing drabbles for my ships so... Send a voice line from a card of a character I ship with my ocs, and I’ll write a small thing, because until now, I had like one or two fics written for my other ships and I want to expand on them too... :(

Characters I ship with my ocs: Cater, Ruggie, Jack, Floyd, Jamil, Epel, Rook, Idia, Silver, Rollo

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #split rose #hidden claws #thorn adorned beauty #moon hunter #wildlife wonders #underwater danger #desert puppeteer #poison apple jam #deadly mermaid #scorched bells #cater diamond x oc #ruggie bucchi x oc #twst silver x oc #rook hunt x oc #jack howl x oc #floyd leech x oc #jamil viper x oc #epel felmier x oc #idia shroud x oc #rollo flamme x oc

[artsybelle1015]

making a twst persona? cringe

i would 100% overblot

sig. spell- cocoon (wrap self in a cocoon and cancel out noise and visuals from the outside world.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland rook #twisted wonderland rook hunt #twst rook #twst rook hunt #rook #rook hunt #rook hunt x mc #rook hunt x oc #twst persona #twisted wonderland persona #twst self insert #twisted wonderland self insert #rook hunt x self insert #twst fanart #twisted wonderland fanart #twst pomefiore #twisted wonderland pomefiore #pomefiore #twst vil schoenheit #twst vil #twisted wonderland vil #twisted wonderland vil schoenheit #twst mc #twisted wonderland mc #mc twst #mc twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst

[cyn-write]

TWST Yule Tide Song Fics

This is for Bunnwich Winter Event 2022! @bunnwich and @comingyourlugubriousness

This pair of short fics are inspired by songs from our world! All of them are Canon Characters X Oc but feel free to read them as Yuu or reader if you would like! Happy Holidays Everyone!

Characters: Azul and Rook (Seprately)

Ocs: Grace Wilde (Yuusona) and Eira Fox (TWST Lucifer/Roxanne)

Character Note: Eira is mute so when she signs I use ' to signify signing and " for spoken word.

Note: Songs will be linked and credited with each piece. I highly suggest listening to the songs while you read! Also, do not steal my work or plagiarize and the artwork belongs to the TWST game. Enjoy!

Azul x Cynthia: "Baby it's Cold Outside"

Grace rolled her wrists, hearing the satisfying crackles. The sound caught Azul's attention. He didn't realize how late it was.

"I better head out," Grace started to collect her books and notes, "Thanks for the study date."

Azul really didn't want Grace to leave. He felt bad for working the whole time when he meant to relax, but duty called. He got up from his chair and placed a hand on her things to try and halt her. "Why don't you stay for a little longer? We could have some tea, watch a movie, talk?"

"I really can't stay, Vil is pretty strict with curfew and I don't want to get either of us in trouble," Grace smiled as she watched her silver-haired love come closer as she packed her things.

"But Baby, It's cold outside," He smiled coyly as their game began.

"I've got to go away," She shook her head as she zipped up her book bag.

"But Pearl, It's cold outside," He leaned against the back of the couch so he was eye-level with his Gold-haired beauty.

Grace lifted her bag onto her shoulder. "This evening has been so, very nice."

Azul took her hands into his gloved ones and brushed his lips against her pale skin, feeling their naturally cold temperature, "I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice."

She giggled as she rounded the couch with Azul still holding her hands, "Rook will be suspicious."

Azul pulled his pearl into his arms and brushed a stray hair behind her pointed ear, " Beautiful, what's your hurry?"

"Vil will be pacing the floor," She placed her arms around his neck and started to sway.

"Listen to the water roar," He swayed with her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Maybe just a drink more," Grace tilted her head and smiled.

"Put some music on while I pour." Azul smiled at his small victory and went to pour the two of them some tea.

"The Tweels might start to think we are up to something." She sat on the couch and put her bag down next to her.

"Dear, they always think we're up to something," Azul said handing her a cup of tea as he sits next to her.

Cyn takes a sip of the very strong tea, "Say, what's in this tea?"

"Peppermint, for the season," Azul took a sip as well and wrapped an arm around her waist again. "Your eyes are beautiful tonight, like sea shells," He kissed her temple after his compliment.

She giggled and put her cup down, "I wish I knew how to break this spell."

Azul moved closer as he ran his fingers through her hair, "Are you trying to hurt my pride?"

"You're very pushy, ya know, " Grace raised an eyebrow as she snuggled into his chest.

"I prefer to say.... opertunistic," He chuckled and rested his head on top of hers.

"Epel will be suspicious," She half-heartedly protested.

Azul smirked and placed a hand underneath her chin, "My, your lips look delicious. Did Vil give you a new lipstick?"

"Grim, will be there at the door," Cynthia looked up into her lover's eyes with a playful glint in her eyes.

"Like waves upon a tropical shore~"

"Ace and Deuce's mind will wonder."

"Seven, you look beautiful."

"Maybe just a half a drink more," Grace leaned in closer for a second before pulling her head and shaking her head. "No, no, I gotta get home."

Azul simply loved this game, "But love, you'll freeze out there."

Grace straightened her uniform, "Say, lend me your coat."

"It's ten below out there," Azul wrapped his arms around her waist from behind her.

"It's really been grand," she turned around in his arms.

"The thrill I get just holding your hand," He took one of her naturally cold hands and intertwined their fingers.

"But can't you see? I will get in trouble if I don't go," She squeezed his hand in hers.

Azul chuckled at her glee in tormenting him, "How can you do this thing to me?"

Grace shrugged in reply, "We are bound to talk tomorrow."

"Think of my lifelong sorrow," Azul pulled her closer to him and the two started to sway to the soft jazz music playing in the background. "if you disappeared or died."

Grace shook her head at Azul's suaveness that seemed to charm her every time, "At least there will be plenty implied."

"Baby, It's cold outside," Azul said wrapping her into a warm embrace that finally made her throw in the towel.

"All right, you win this round," She went onto her toes and pressed her lips against his.

"You were very persistent," Azul complemented, "More than usual even."

Grace giggled and shrugged, "What can I say, I like to be a difficult shrimpy."

"And that is why I love you," The two fell into the couch giggling and cuddling late into the frigged Yule evening.

Rook x Eira: "The Nutcracker Suit"

Rook always enjoyed the early winter mornings, watching the sunrise and revealing the newly laid snow and the silence that pierced the air. This particular Yuletide morn, he was surprised by the faint sound of music coming from the practice room around 5 o'clock in the morning.

The faint plucking of piano notes accompanied by violins. He followed the sound to the room where he saw a glorious and rare sight, Eira, his lovely little fox, dancing on point to the classic ballet of the toy soldier and his love. She was so entranced in her dance that she didn't notice the hunter creating up behind her to join in the dance.

She leaped and spun with ease. Her white, fluffy tail followed elegantly. Her White hair was wrapped in a tight bun. Her deep brown eye closed to help encapsulate her into the dance. Rook, of course, knew every step of the famous ballet. He has watched it every year since his boyhood and it still was a Yuletide favorite.

He slipped off his boots and silently creped behind her to join in. He almost had his hand on her waist when she suddenly turned and, with a pointed toe, tendu on eleve that had her looking directly into his eyes.

She signed, breaking the traditional movements of the dance, 'What are you doing here?'

Rook put on his signature smile and spoke back to his mute love, "Watching my lovely Chaton dance in the early morn. Is that a crime?"

'In some kingdoms, yes.' She signed back and went to pause her music. She had on a black leotard and white practice skirt that twirled as she moved.

"Well, mi chaton, here it is not." He came up behind her and watched as she took a few slips of water from her thermos. "Besides, how could I resist the temptations of the toy soldier? It is my favorite ballet of Yule Tide! I have seen it more times than I can count! I can recreate every step of the dance simply from how often I have seen it!"

Eira put down her thermos and smirked, 'Is that a bet?' she signed.

Rook shrugged "Possibly, what are the stakes?" he came closer to his fox, closing the gap in a few strides.

'If I win, your hat' Eira signed.

"What about if I win?" Rook placed his hands on the hips of his love as she thought.

After a second, she signed 'A kiss under the mistletoe.'

Rook smiled and offered his hand, "Well then, Mon Amor, be prepared for the kiss of passion."

With that, the bet was on. Eira restarted the song and took Rook's hand. They got into position, as the music softly began. Once the first notes rang, the pair went into full dancer mode. The Hunter and the Fox mirror the Toy Soldier and his Love step for step. Eira was impressed at her hunter's dancing ability, but she also had a few tricks up her sleeve. She turned in a different direction suddenly, moving the movement to a different part of the room, and Rook smoothly adapted. She added frills to her traditional dance to try and mess him up, but like the good hunter he is, rook quickly shifted and adapted to her movement, matching them to a t. Even in socks, he kept up with the ballerina. The two leaped, spun, lifted, and danced till the song's end, leaving them both with a glow of sweat that was illuminated by the rising sun.

Rook held her close long after the song ended. The Pas Du Deux was complete and Rook smiled at his chaton. He kissed her in the picturesque scene as the sun illuminated them from the back as snow started to gently fall.

Eira returned the kiss and went on point to look into her hunter's eyes. "That does not count as my victory kiss, no mistletoe." He chuckled as rolled her eyes.

'Fine,' she signed, 'But not in class, I don't want to listen to Trien lecture on proper decorum again.'

The Hunter and his Fox shared one more kiss that Yuletide morn before they exited the practice room hand in hand, just like the toy soldier and his love.

#bunnwich winter event 2022 #twst fanfic #twst #twisted wonderland #twst event #the green one that saved yule #twst oc #azul ashengrotto #rook hunt #pomefiore #twst x oc #azulxoc #idia shroud #disney twst #rook x oc #rook hunt x oc #twst headcanons #rook hunt x mc #disney twisted wonderland

[villainessprefect]

~Tell It to My Heart~

title: A Queen, A Hunter, and Their Star

Dialogue #8: “I’ll be damned if I let someone else touch you like that again.”

Rook x male!OC (belongs to @pinkskytwst​ )  x Vil

Read on AO3

"Is it not wonderful to have such a beauty to grace us with his presence, Roi de Poison?" Rook asks, letting his gaze drift towards their other partner.

Curly dark red hair bounces as Robyn speaks. Stars shine in his eyes, making them sparkle as he continues with nonstop passion. The same cannot be said for the one he is speaking to. Another Pomefiore student has little to no interest in the subject he's speaking on. Alchemy by the sound of it, or so Rook hears. The poor soul looks rather bored despite the enthusiasm that Robyn projects.

It's a shame, really, that many can't comprehend the beauty of passion. The way it makes a voice turn into a melodic song, orchestrating a new piece for the world to hear. Or how it makes one's eyes sparkle in even the darkest of places. The way a person can shine brighter than the sun when they decide to speak to lose themselves in what they love.

It's something that Vil loves about him. He easily makes his heart sway, like an actor putting on their finest performance. And he simply adores the stage that Robyn puts on for himself. How anyone can't appreciate his tangents is a mystery to him.

"Of course it is," Vil answers. He allows himself a glance at the other boy before returning to his current project. Hands perfect a stack of papers. Words neatly printed on each one that turn out to be a script. The film club had been quite stagnant the past couple of months and Vil intended to produce something outstanding for their lack of productions. "Would you dare say otherwise?"

"Non! You know my answer," Rook replies with a smile. Green hues dart back towards the two. "Should I interrupt them? You know how he gets and his prey is simply..."

Vil huffs.

"If he's smart, he won't lay a finger on him."

Vil's eyes flick away from his papers. Robyn could come off as annoying to some, but surely no one would dare do anything while he and Rook are in the vicinity. They'd have to be a true fool if they did.

As if on cue to try and challenge Vil's words, the student lashes out. A hand grips Robyn's wrist. The sound of his journal dropping to the floor is what causes heads to turn. The queen and the hunter are the first to lock eyes on the scene.

Vil's eyes darken. A disgusting rage boiling inside him already. Partially at the student and himself. He should have known that a lowly potato would react this way. But one from his dorm? It seems he hasn't been keeping his students in top shape as he wished.

He says nothing as he sets aside his papers. Heels click loudly against the floor. The queen doesn't need to make his presence known, but he does. The other student tenses up as the sound of clicks grows louder and louder.

"Do you have business with him?" Vil asks while putting his hands on his hips. He keeps his head high while looking down at the unfortunate student. If looks could kill, he would be incinerated on the spot.

"I-I just wanted him to stop talking..." He weakly protests.

"Oh? And why not simply ask instead of choosing a violent path? It's children like you that need to be taught a lesson. And being under my command, I'll ensure that it's the finest one of all."

Vil holds his pen in hand and it glistens. That alone is enough to make the student free Robyn from his grasp and run. An expected outcome, but he forgets that Vil is never alone. He doesn't even need to make eye contact with Rook or speak his name. The hunter understands what needs to be done. With a slight tip of his hat, the predator begins a beautiful chase.

The moment that Rook is out of sight, Vil turns his attention to Robyn. His eyes soften as he meets with those blue ones. Calm and lovely and haven't lost their shine despite the harsh reaction from that silly potato.

"Did he hurt you?" He asks, a hand already gently taking his own.

"I'm fine!" Robyn chirps in response. It stings a bit, but he figures it's due to it being recent. He's more concerned over his journal and how Vil and Rook are faring. "Thanks for stepping in. I guess I kinda went overboard, huh?"

"Nonsense," Vil brushes off his apology. It's shocking how uplifting he can be despite the scene he caused. "He should have spoken up if he wanted a better outcome." A sigh escapes him and he quietly mutters. "I'll be damned if I let someone else touch you like that again."

He dislikes the use of such 'vulgar' language. It's not beautiful nor does it befit him or anyone, but he makes an exception this once. Robyn and Rook are special and important to him. And no one is allowed to cast harm on them. No one.

#twisted wonderland #vil shoenheit #rook hunt #twisted wonderland x oc #vil shoenheit x oc #rook hunt x oc #male oc #twst x oc #twst #pomefiore #request #tell it to my heart event

[jijijig]

yep she definitely *loves* him

Ivan(MC/yuu) as a little girl by magical accident(probably caused by Adeuce) and her voluntary henchman Rook. He’ll definitely make his petit chérie stay in pomefiore

#disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland oc #rook hunt #rook x yuu #twst rook #rook & yuu #twst yuu #twst mc #twst oc #twst x yuu #twst x mc #twisted wonderland mc

[siren-serenity]

Hi! I was hoping you could write something with my yuusona Minthe (she/they pronouns used interchangeably) for the battle of the restaurants event ^^ (here's their info!)

May I request, Minthe as a barista. She's trying to make Vil's order (which is a bit complicated) but Rook keeps distracting them with cute nicknames which only get weirder the more they don't react to it, and so they make a mistake?

Minthe, Rook and Vil are in a polycule.

Thank you, and I hope you have a great day ahead ^^

↳ *TITLE: HER LOVERS!* ༉‧₊˚✧

↳ *MINTHE X ROOK HUNT X VIL SCHOENHEIT!* ༉‧₊˚✧

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ OMFG??? THATS LIKE A DREAM COME TRUE FOR ME!!! bro minthe should be in heaven - i mean?? rook dedicating all his love for you? being vil's lover and being in the utmost care? that is honestly a dream!!! (Okay, as I wrote this, I made a HUGE mistake by deviating from the plot line…let me know if you want me to rewrite it!!! So sorry T-T)

↳ *𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘚!* ༉‧₊˚✧

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Taglist: @krenenbaker, @moonlitnyx, @azulashengrottospiano. @eynnwwyjth, @parad-ice-lostandfound, @officialdaydreamer00, @leonistic, @plutosring, @starsilluminateourgalaxy, @aceofsweets, @rav--en, @dowdos, @deathkat657, @escha-evenstar, @toffeeeez, @dearest-siblingtwst, @biromanticboba, @savanaclaw1996, @candlewitch-cryptic, @lowenergyallday

please reblog or dm if you wish to be tagged!!

Their presence in the cafe blinded the students. Who wouldn't be? It was the queen and his huntsman, Vil Schoenheit and Rook Hunt after all. Vil's appearance is as beautiful as ever; he truly deserves the title of 'the fairest of them all'. Similarly, Rook's wide grin made him glow with beauty.

"Ma cherie!" Rook crooned as he skipped his way to the barista counter. Minthe gave him a small grin and nodded. "Hey, Rook!"

"Forgetting somebody," Vil drawled playfully before reaching for her hand. He brought it to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to her knuckles. "Morning, little dagger."

Minthe clicked the computer screen and sent him a loving smile. "Good morning, my fairest. What would you two like to order?"

Vil hummed under his breath. "Something healthy to start the day, I suppose. I haven't gone on my jog yet."

The huntsman nodded. "I'll have anything Vil takes! We're going on a jog later. Truly, Vil is the most dedicated to pursuing the path of beauty!"

Minthe laughed in agreement.

"That's why we love him," she teased. "Alright! Can I serve you two a fruit smoothie and chicken pot pie to start your day? Perfectly healthy and made with organic ingredients. No preservatives added."

The blonds nodded in agreement before having a small polite "squabble" over who would pay. Minthe could hear the quiet whispers as she went to make their smoothies. Vil would occasionally go "I'm your housewarden!" to which Rook would reply with "As your beloved huntsman, I should pay! It is but a small cost."

As she sliced the bananas, she could hear her senior, Melody Striker, approaching.

"Got the two fighting over you again?" The black-purple-haired girl snickered, gesturing to the two who were still arguing. "Ah, young love."

The strawberry juice covered her fingers and made them feel sticky, but Minthe carried on. "No, they're just arguing over who pays for both their meals."

She playfully sighed, switching in the blender with a flick of a finger.

“Honestly,” she yelled over the chaotic noise. “They should just take turns or pay for their own! I don’t see the need—“

“I think they just like showing off to you,” Melody smirked. “It’s probably a Pomefiore thing; I saw Ace and Epel doing the same a few days back. Peacocks, all of them.”

Minthe snorted as she poured the smoothie into the two cups. “I can see that.”

As the black-purple-haired senior walked away to the counter, she prepared the last of the identical dishes before walking towards her lovers. Her heart fluttered as she met eye contact with both of them and almost on instinct, a smile blossomed on her face.

“Your dishes, monsieurs,” she teased, setting down the plates. Vil looked upon the meal with a glint in his eyes and Minthe awaited with bated breath for his approval.

Vil hummed before gracefully taking a fork and taking a bite out of the warm chicken pot pie. Even as she stood, she could smell the tantalising scent of the meat, cooked to perfection and smelling utterly delectable.

“You’re not good at hiding your desire, little dagger,” Vil’s playful drawl snapped her out of her stupor. She felt him cradling her chin with one hand, lifting up the spoon with a piece of the pie on it to her mouth. “Have some, dear.”

Minthe felt Rook take her unoccupied hand in his, brushing a calloused thumb over her knuckles.

“Eat, mon amor,” Rook hummed, “I can sense your hunger and your yearning to have a bite of the pie!”

As if agreeing, Minthe’s stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl. With a sigh and a smile, she relented. She took a bite, her smile growing larger with the taste of the pie dancing on her tongue. With her eyes closed, she didn’t notice Vil and Rook exchanging a fond, loving smile between them.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #battle of the restaurants #twst #twst oc #vil schoenheit x oc #rook hunt x oc #rook hunt #vil schoenheit #vil x rook x oc #polycule #polyamory

[twstfanblog]

(Reblog for the new event on EN servers!)

*At the Glorious Masquerade*

🎯: *Staring at Yuu's boobs*

🐍: Excuse you!?

🐙: Hey! No ogling without proper payment!

🎯: The mole is new, mon trickster!

🐍: Why do you know that?

🔪: I used my eyeliner to add a tasteful beauty mark.

🐲: How delightful. You've decorated your bosom for the festivities.

🔪: Wanted the girls to look nice.

(Rollo) 🔔: *Struggling to not look*

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #yuu oc #twst wonderland #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #twst jamil #jamil x reader #jamil viper #azul x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia #twst malleus #twst rook #rook hunt #twst rollo #rollo flamm #glorious masquerade

[robo-milky]

OC x Canon Week Day 2: Mundane Tasks

Cloche is definitely maintaining eye contact… totally. A very professional maid on duty right there.

#I would kill to be the towel… #cat scribblez 🌸 #oc: cloche🎊 #rookloche #twisted wonderland #twst #oc x canon week 2024 #oc x canon week #oc x canon week day 2 #twst yume #twst yuusona #twst yuu #twst ocs #twst oc #twisted wonderland art #twisted wonderland fanart #twisted wonderland oc #twst art #twst fanart #rook hunt #twst rook #rook x yuu