Wilmaa
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Jeanne scrambled up, first with hands and feet, then crouched, then completely sideways, running up the building, up to the woman, up to the witch, winded and heart pounding out of her chest in urgency.
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Jeanne, the last of the Umbra witches, has a chance encounter one evening that changes the course of her life forever.
((NOT DEAD just in college)) -
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Cold. It was so, so cold.
____There were only two witches left, bound by a shared loss and no one else to remember what it had used to be.
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There was a war on the horizon. There was a fire tearing through the ruby fields; but she’d be there, by Rosa’s side, strong and unyielding and radiant.
Rosa will make sure of it.
Rosa and her retainer, and their love that never was.
Need to read moth_knight's fic, Desert Hearts to understand this one.
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“Witches die. They all signed up for it, kid.”
Viola hadn't.
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In which Viola thinks about the events of Bayo 3 and processes it poorly.
Recent bookmarks
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The Pure Vessel does not ruminate on its Sister, their Father, or the wounds of children desperate to make others proud. It has no thoughts on the matter.
Or so it thinks. Or so, at least, it tells itself.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,353
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 5
- Kudos:
- 59
- Bookmarks:
- 8
- Hits:
- 240
Bookmarked by Wilmaa
29 Jan 2026
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what's gold is gold, what's real is us by Anonymous
Fandoms: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
21 Jan 2026
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Hornet is badly injured in Whiteward. Second Sentinel comes to her assistance.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,660
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 17
- Kudos:
- 159
- Bookmarks:
- 23
- Hits:
- 620
Bookmarked by Wilmaa
21 Jan 2026
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Summary
Lace thinks that the person she should be isn’t even a person that exists.
Bookmarked by Wilmaa
19 Dec 2025
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Summary
His serpent heads taste the air, but there is only smouldering resin; the flavour of lilies just below, packed in close, suffocating, their petals like a blanket stuffed into his mouth. A garland of them over his eyes, so that he cannot turn, cannot steer his serpents away from the gaze of this god-child, his kin. Cannot see how Miquella glimpses over his shoulder, following the path of ruin that has led them here. How his own words settle in the dark like seeds where they will grow.
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From a shattered kingdom, a young stranger comes before Messmer, smelling of lilies and gold, with a story to tell and a favour to ask.
Series
- Part 2 of O Mother Of My Misfortune
Bookmarked by Wilmaa
26 Oct 2025
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Where is it written? He will burn that, too. This should be a world that no longer chains them with rules, with proclamations and prophecies. They have torn that world down, an old curtain from the wall, and unrolled their mother's glorious tapestry in its place.
So why is her blood pooling in his hands?
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Those who have never birthed something from a forge think all fires burn the same. Messmer and Melina know better.
Series
- Part 1 of O Mother Of My Misfortune
Bookmarked by Wilmaa
05 Jun 2025