【 one Good Honest Kiss 】

PIERCER IN TRAINING﹙☆﹚—  TWST

you want to pierce your ears, jade offers to do it for you.

— warnings: mention of needles, ears being pierced of course, semi proofread

— characters: jade (ft. azul)

when you first complained about wanting to pierce your ears, jade offered to do it for you. immediately, you shot him down. it would be stupid of you to accept an offer from jade leech of all people to pierce your ears. the possibilities were endless. he could pierce the wrong part of your ear. he could end up making too big of a hole. he could make too small of a hole. you knew none of the staff would be impressed to see you walk in to the infirmary with your ears in dire need of first aid. however, you seemed to underestimate jade’s persuasive skills. that was your biggest and most costly oversight.

since, before you knew it, you were sitting in front of jade, after hours at monstro lounge, as he was readying himself to pierce your eyes. “are you sure you can do this?” you nervously asked as you watched him slip a pair of latex gloves on. at least he acted like a professional piercer. 

Continuar lendo

THANK YOU I LIKE YOUR FANCY WORDS !!!

me creating this in my lab while I conduct a little experiment on Azul and eximine his insides closely and pick him apart !!

[I refuse to drown - Azul Ashengrotto]

Summary: He had hurt you. Azul had hurt you and he wasn't sure how he could ever forgive himself, the guilt gnawing at his core. Despite that, you still smile at him. 

Notes: reader and azul knew each other before chapter 3, gn!reader, angst and hurt/comfort, self deprecating thoughts, some mentions of blood, injury and death but none too graphic, not proof read

Azul had lost everything.

Everything he had built painstakingly for years, crawling himself from the bottom of the depths, that he exhausted himself for, that he carefully planned and gained through his hard work. Gone, just like that, floating away in the wind the same way the sand of the beach is carried away by the waves.

But, the worst of all: he lost control. 

Control of himself, his actions and his mind. Azul couldn't remember what happened after seeing his contracts disintegrating, only that he felt more despair than ever before. Even when he was isolated and mocked by the other merman, he's never felt such helplessness, such anguish, such misery. 

His mind was muddy, he didn't feel like he was in his body. Why would it matter, anyway? It was all gone, gone, gone. 

He let himself drown in the feeling.

Drowning was a strange sensation. Azul, being a merman, never thought he could experience it, but Night Raven College was full of surprises. His lungs felt full, an inky substance occupying where once was air. His vision was dark, as if he had fallen into an abyss. He couldn't bring himself to care.

Azul didn't know which was worse, the hopeless feelings or the lack thereof. 

He stayed floating into nothingness for a while. He wasn't conscious, but he was. He was there, but he wasn't. He didn't have a body, but he did. If he could manage to string a coherent thought together, it might have been something like this: "Is this what death looks like?" Perhaps if he could muster enough strenght to feel something, he might have felt regret for all the things he still had left to do.

If he looked deep into himself, deeper than he was willing to, he might have found that he regretted making you sign one of his rigged contracts and dragging you into this mess. He should have known better than understimating you, he should have known that something like this would happen. After all, you were amazing enough to catch his attention. What made him think you wouldn't be amazing enough to find a way out of his deal? What made him think Jade and Floyd would be enough to disencourage you? What made him think someone like him, so dirty and insicere, could ever dampen someone like you, so determined and bright?

He didn't think about any of it. He didn't think about anything.

The first thing Azul felt when he came back to his senses was light against his eyelids. He was back at the surface. His body ached all over but his lungs no longer bled that viscous black liquid and he felt alive once more. He was still alive.

He could smell a familiar scent, one that he was used to smelling back at the Coral Sea, so used to he didn't identify it a first. He heard shouting that seemed to be miles away and right by his ear at the same time. His slugish head couldn't distinguish what was being said by whom, but he could swear he heard your name, it's mention alone being enough to jolt eletricity back into his being and keep him awake. There were hurried footsteps getting farther away and he finally recognized what the smell was. It was the metalic smell of blood.

He tried to open his eyes but the bright lights of Mostro Lounge burned them, so he kept them tightly shut. He couldn't get up, his legs hurt more than any other part of his body. What had happened? He couldn't have... could he? The last thing he could remember happening before passing out was... oh.

Oh. He did. Azul had an overblot.

His breath hitched, but he forced himself to keep breathing in the air, to keep the blot out, out of his system and out of his lungs and out of his veins and out out out of him. He bit his tounge, clenched his fists and forced his sore eyes to open.

The contracts, they were gone. His life's work. He had made a fool of himself in front of another housewarden. He had an overblot and put everyone in danger. He had put you in danger.

Jade and Floyd were by his side. They were talking to him, but he couldn't register the words. His head was underwater, the pressure weighting him down, his ears filled with water and dripping, dripping, dripping.

He could still smell the blood. Ah, it felt just like home.

Azul looked at his lower half, almost sure in some hysterical part of his brain that he would find his tentacles there. His legs laid on the floor, clean and useless. He breathed a sigh of relief. Still, he couldn't help but wish the blood was his.

He got the gist of what the twins were saying. Leona destroyed the contracts and you had managed to adquire his childhood photo. They were mocking him for the tantrum he threw, but he could tell they were worried. There wasn't much force behind the half hearted taunts and no matter how much they tried to hide, Azul knew them just like they knew him. They were aggravated at what happened as well, no matter how much they pretended they couldn't care less.

"What would you like us to do about the photo?" 

"I'm pretty sure we could just snatch it up with how shrimpy is now, but man, I'm not in the mood for it."

"...I don't care about the photo anymore. Tell me, what happened to the prefect?"

Jade looked at him with pity and Floyd's mood deteriorated. There was a bottomless pit of dread at his stomach, his throat felt dry all of sudden. His eyes burned, but no tears fell from them. When had his breathing become so erratic?

As soon as the twins broke the news to him, Azul tried to stand up and see you, not caring for how much his legs ached and hurt and screamed at him to stay down. Good, he thought with venom, so much loathing and disdain it left a sour feeling in his mouth, they better be hurting after what he'd done. He deserves worse.

Jade helped him balance himself on his legs and Floyd laughed at his clumsy footing, as if it was the first time the three of them set foot on land and were just learning how to walk. Azul felt like he had been stripped from his tentacles and siphon all over again. He had been stripped from his skin and from his mind, had been laid open and bare and vulnerable for all to see, had his chest teared apart and his lungs leaking onto the floor.

Once they arrived at the infirmary, Azul was almost jumped by your friends. The Heartslabyul duo and the young Savanaclaw seemed ready to plummet him to the ground, no care for his condition, if it weren't for Jade and Floyd tanking him by both sides like bodyguards. Azul was glad they didn't care, he was glad they worried so much about you. He would have let them hit him and taken the beating, there wasn't much of his pride left to salvage anyway.

The school nurse had just finished attending you and promptly went to work on his injuries. The Headmaster appeared at the infirmary right after Azul was discharged, no doubt already knowing what happened. He had never seem Crowley look as serious as he did when he asked for the three of them to accompany him to his office. 

Azul's body was exhausted, he clearly needed to rest. Still, he agreed without a fuss, the twins following him closely from behind. He could feel Jade's gaze burning the back of his neck, but he couldn't gather enough energy to care for whatever was going on the eelmer's mind. He felt empty, almost hollow. Frighteningly so, like he was still on that void state, disconnected from his body. Was he even awake?

The talk with the Headmaster was a long and tiring one. At the end of it, Azul accepted the new terms for him to keep running Mostro Lounge at the school, gripping tightly to the only thing he had left. He couldn't lose his beloved restaurant alongside everything else, it would be too much, more than he could handle.

It was dark by the time they were excused to go back to their dorm. Azul felt and looked like a mess, not like the businessman he took pride in being. His hair was dishevelled, there were eyebags under his eyes and his mouth was set in a firm line for a while, not managing much more emoting. 

There was a restlessness under his skin, on his muscles, deep in his bones, down onto every single cell. No matter how worn out he was, there was no way he would be able to sit back. Not until he saw you with his own eyes, saw exactly how much damage he had caused. 

He wasn't able to muster up the courage to look the twins in the face as he told them to go ahead, that he had something to do. Luckly, they decided he had suffered enough and didn't kick up much of a fuss before leaving him alone.

The walk to the infirmary felt like a fever dream, too long and too short at the same time. Azul wondered if your friends were still there at this time, if you were awake, if he was even allowed to enter. He stayed rooted in front of the entrance, trying to gather every last bit of confidence to put up his usual serene façade. 

He wouldn't let you see how affected he was by the whole ordeal. This wasn't supposed to be about him, he wanted to take a look at you. You, who had been nothing but friendly to him, who had caught his attention early on, who spent time with him at Mostro Lounge, who he admired so much, who wormed your way into his heart and refused to leave.

Azul was afraid you hated him now, but by the Sevens how much he wished you did. Why wouldn't you, after he tried to scam you out of your house and almost got you killed. All for his selfishness, for his stupid pride and greed. He was ready for you to scream at him, to hit him, say you never wanted to see him again. Even if the mere thought was enough for him to feel like throwing up, he knew it would be better if he stayed away from you and your light. That way, he wouldn't hurt you again, never again.

Steeling himself with the fakiest smile on his face, he pushed the door open, hands shaking.

The infirmary was quiet, no one in sight save for you. You were laying on one of the first beds, a peaceful expression on your face. You looked beautiful. You always did, to him. There were bandages all over where your skin was visible. Azul could feel the guilt choking him. How could he have the audacity to come talk to you after he was the one that did this?

He turned around and was about to leave when he heard you whisper. It was spoken so softly he wouldn't have heard at all if he wasn't hyperaware of you. "Stay." 

Azul stayed. He could never deny anything you asked for. Especially not when you sounded so pleading, when you looked at him like that.

There was a chair next to your bed, so umconfortable looking as it must feel. But it was the best way to stay closer to you, so he sat on it, waiting for you to drop the guillotine over his head for his sins. 

The silence was suffocating, denser than the pressure at the bottom of the ocean. He wanted you to say something, anything. His gaze was on the floor, lips pulled back, brows furrowed. If he closed his eyes, only the darkness would welcome him, swallow him whole, so he kept them stubbornly open.

"Azul." It felt like a blessing, like a drop of water after walking through the desert, like a warm embrace. Azul relished the way you said his name, the delicious entonation as your tongue rolled over every letter. He wanted to beg you to say it again and again. The only thing he does is lifting his head to look at you.

The proximity between you two was startling. He hadn't noticed how close you were, hadn't noticed you raising your hand, hadn't noticed the shine in your eye. He thought you were about to slap him, but couldn't drag his stare away from your eyes. They looked so gentle, so full of... something. He wouldn't dare try to name the emotion behind them, wouldn't dare hope.

Your hand made contact with his cheek, making him flinch lightly. There was no sting, only your warmth as you held his face. Your fingers left burning imprints where they touched, marked him from the inside out. Wide blue eyes meet your affectionate ones, so open and honest. Why were you being so gentle to him? Acting like nothing happened, like things were the same as before this whole mess occurred. 

"I'm glad." You confess softly, a secret meant only for the two of you, thumb brushing against his cheeks as he leans into your touch and lets himself melt into it while he still can. "I'm glad you're alright, Azul." 

"How can you say that when you're the one laying on a hospital bed?" His voice falls flat, trying to hide his emotions. But he's a cracked shell, his insides are spilling out into your palms, plain for you to pick apart and analyse as you please.

You smile, your joy is so sincere Azul can feel his eyes burn with unshead tears. How could he ever hurt someone like you? How could you still look at him without an once of hatred or disguist or fear?

"I was worried about you." You state as if it was the simplest thing in the world, because it is, to you. The sky is blue, the ocean is cold and you care about Azul. You say as if you aren't shattering his last bits of composure, as if you aren't breaking his heart into little jagged pieces. 

"Don't say that." He manages to choke out, as if the mere words hurt his throat, voice watery and breaking. "Please, don't say that." The 'I don't deserve it' is not said out loud, but both of you can hear it.

"How can I not? It's the truth." His tears flow freely, no longer under his control as he feels the urge to sob, to beg for forgiveness, to hide and never see you again in fear of hurting you. Only you had this effect on him, only you could break his barriers and composure so easily. 

You brush his tears away, whispering reassurances. Wasn't him supposed to be the one reassuring you? He had come to see how you were, to apologize, to let you scream at him, anything. He could take it if you hated him, he would understand, but how could your gaze still hold so much fondness in it, so much love? The guilt shatters him, pierces his heart, make his sobs louder. How cruel could your kindness be?

He had hurt you. Azul had hurt you and he wasn't sure how he could ever forgive himself, the guilt gnawing at his core. Despite that, you still smile at him. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He repeats, over and over. You say you forgive him, but he keeps going until his voice is hoarse. You don't, no, you can't understand it. You did nothing wrong, you're not like him, hands stained with blood and rot. He lets his guilt out before it festers and consumes him. It isn't enough to make up to you, although it does make him feel a little bit better, to let it all out like this.

You don't lie to him. You don't say it wasn't his fault or that he wasn't in the wrong, but you don't rub it in either. Azul appreciates it, the sincerity. He knows you can hold him accountable when the time is right. For now, you comfort him. You tell him how nobody else could put such effective notes together, how determinated and hardworking he is. How his past doesn't define him and how he has greater strenghts than any magic. He drinks every word up, commiting them to memory.

As his tears seem to dry out alongside his voice, you pull him closer to yourself. He submerges himself into you, your scent, your voice, your touch. He would happily let himself drown on the sensation. You just hold him, rubbing circles on his back and lending him your shoulder. 

It's like time has frozen over. Azul wishes it had. He could stay like this with you for hours if you'd let him, although he doesn't feel ready to admit it, be it to you or to himself. 

Everything is not right. You're still hurt, his contracts are still gone and Azul still feels wrong, the effects of the overblot lingering underneath his skin. His reputation took a significant blow and he'll have to change the method he's always used to work at his own establishment. 

But not all is lost, either. He can start over, the right way this time. You'll be by his side, cheering him on. There's a long road to improvement and Azul has never been one to get scared by such things. He'll put his efforts on getting back on his feet and breaking the surface of the water, as he refuses to drown. 

The late hour weights on your tired bodies, causing you to yawn, your hold on him getting laxer. With the way his body aches, he wouldn't be able to go back to Octavinelle. In fact, he doesn't feel able to move from the chair he is in. He doesn't want to leave you from his sight, to lose your touch. 

You ask him to keep you company, prompting him to lay his head on your lap, an umconfortable position, as he has to bend his torso to reach it, but he doesn't mind. Just having you nearby will be enough. One of your hands interlock your fingers with his and the other plays with his hair as you hum, not letting the silence engulf the room. He's beyond grateful for that, for how you just seem to know what he needs and is more than willing to give it to him. He's never been handled with such care before, like he's wanted, like he's precious. It makes his body feel warm and he basks on it.

He waits until you stop your ministrations, until your breathing evens out and it's just him alone with his thoughts. He keeps his eyes shut, as he knows that if he dared to glance at your sleeping face his heart would burst with affection, the feelings he's trying to rein in exploding from his chest. 

Azul only has made a promise to himself once, when he was a little kid being bullied by his peers, eager to prove them wrong, to prove he could be better than their expectations. Now, he makes a new promise, to protect you and your kindness, to never let someone, least him, hurt you again, to make up for his own shortcomings and become someone you can be proud of.

He loses consciousness for the second time that day, but this time he knows he's alive. He feels it in the way his heart beats in sync with yours, the way his breaths come out from his mouth, the way your fingers are laced with his. 

Azul is alive and swimming to the surface, as he refuses to drown.

Masterlist

VAMP AU - basics vii.

So, you want to know about the Diasomnia Coven? Well, good luck finding anything out. They say this coven has a living history, and reliable documentation is difficult to find, let alone any vampires themselves.

CW: blood, death, stalking/hunting, religious imagery, dark/obsessive/possessive characters. this au is not NSFW, but it does deal with darker content and sometimes discusses sensuality and sensual topics. reader discretion is advised.

overview. ❧ heartslabyul. savanaclaw. octavinelle. scarabia. pomefiore. ignihyde. {diasomnia.}

The Diasomnia Coven isn’t really a coven at all (if it was, it’d beat out Pomefiore as the oldest) - it’s a small group of vampires living just on the edge of the barrier between worlds, an offshoot of the realm where most of the true vampires reside. The future keeper of all vampires has been in mourning for thousands of years, and the others keep watch over him while maintaining a balance between both the realms. There is an abandoned village with a forgotten and decimated stone castle, miles and miles away from any humans, where they reside. The mourning keeper insists there are memories that play within the village when the circumstances are just right…

Nobody knows much about these vampires, and very few humans know they exist. They’re a sort of urban legend among the vampires though, both turned and true vampires whispering every little detail they have about the mysterious brethren living in an untouchable forest. Legend says that the Diasomnia vampires are more powerful than even most vampires within the vampire realm, and they’re awfully shrewd, too. Rather than hunt humans, they trick any who dare come close to their cursed forest to follow them to their lair, where the human is then hypnotized and used for a food source until they die. If vampires ever have to tread near the forest, they always go on an empty stomach, hoping to reduce their chances of being swept away. Many do not return.

…This is all a fabrication, of course. (These vampires just like to play a few good-natured tricks, and the vampires die often in the forest because they purposely deprive themselves of food and there are no humans around.) The truth is much more sad, and is halting the progress between the realms as well as endangering the balance of magic. But vampires are stubborn, and it’s hard to shake a man from mourning when condemned himself within sorrow for eternity.

Continuar lendo

2023 redraw (only face and colors changed really)

“let’s break up.” with the housewardens ╮

♯— leona, malleus, idia, vil, azul. likes and rbs are appreciated!!

summary: a heated argument leads to the housewardens genuinely hurting you ￫ a break up : requested by @diavolosbaby

cw: gn!reader, angst?? hurt???? unedited

✉︎ leona kingscholar // won’t relinquish his pride

• “let’s just break up,” you say, standing at the edge of his bed. “if you’re not going to even try and apologise, let’s just end this now.”

• in times long gone by you’d be laughing together fervently, bodies tangled between those same sheets, faces so close that your noses would bump and your breaths were shared. now, his bed is neatly made. had ruggie been in this morning, or had he done it himself?

• leona peeks a single eye open in a languid manner, staring you down as though he were sussing something out about you before closing them again, barely stirring, brooding. “fine.” he croaks, voice raspy from lack of use, forcing impassivity as his tail thrashes against his headboard displaying quite the opposite. “end whatever the hell we are, then.”

• your eyes begin to pool as your hands ball into fists, clenching the hem of your sleeves. he couldn’t even say a simple ‘i’m sorry.’ “you’re pathetic, leona.” the ugly feelings are seeping out as tears and cutting words: “you’re a coward.”

• leona is used to chagrin, he’s used to fear and he’s used to hatred from others—but when it’s you, when it’s your voice that speaks to him so cold and contemptuously—something shifts in his core. it’s when you’re already out of earshot he sits himself up with some sort of newfound epiphany, the words you had been waiting for all this time finally running off at the mouth.

• “i’m sorry,” he calls after you, “i’m sorry—” but he knows he’s too late.

✉︎ malleus draconia // can’t forgive himself

• there’s a point in every unsalvageable relationship where one knows it’s over. you had been clinging to a semblance, an empty shell of a relationship for much too long; the absence of communication forcing your relationship into a strained stalemate.

• he knows what you’re going to say before you open your mouth, eyes forlorn, cast downwards, devoid their usual shine. “you are breaking up with me, aren’t you.” (it’s less of a question and more of a determiner.) what once was a blue sky thunders with ferocity at your answer, or the lack thereof.

• “i never intended to hurt you. i would move heaven and earth for you. i wouldn’t ever dare—” but he did. he was the architect of his own destruction. the argument had been stupid in the first place—he should’ve kept his childish emotions at bay but instead he raised his voice at you. “i love you.” he tells you not because he’s trying to make you stay, but simply because it’s true, meekly reaching for your hand, slender fingers intertwining with yours loosely before moving to his sides again. his yearning for you is timeless: absolute, unwavering and unconditional. even so, you won’t meet his gaze anymore, and he wracks with devastation.

• “but i understand.” the horizon is suddenly overcast with a murky grey. you know that shade as regret. (malleus loves you, and he will continue to love you, that was beyond doubt—but he can no longer love himself.)

✉︎ idia shroud // refuses to face reality

• “i think we should…” you falter, struggling to find the right words, letting them drown into the whirs of idia’s pc fan. “i don’t want to do this anymore. us.”

• idia’s shoulders sag as he nibbles his bottom lip. “what?” he’s writhing in his seat, vision blurring as he grips onto his controller, pressing down the buttons till they’re jammed. he can’t focus on anything else but the fact that you don’t want to be with him anymore, that he’s crossed the line, that he’s hurt you beyond repair. this relationship isn’t something that can be replayed, it never was—so maybe he shouldn’t have treated it as such.

• his voice becomes a few octaves higher, panicked. “b-but we were doing--… we were doing fine..! the arguments-- the things i said, i-i didn’t mean them, any of it, you know that!” his speed picks up as he continues, as though he’s trying to fit everything he can muster into a short time frame.

• “idia, we have to stop pretending.” you hold him firmly in place, to stop him from hyperventilating on the spot, speaking over his hurried, ceaseless pleas for forgiveness. “you have to stop pretending. the things you said hurt me. you can’t just take them back.”

• he falls silent until you’re at the doorway. when he speaks again his voice is merely a whisper, so small and unsteady you can barely comprehend it. when you do, you become choked.

• idia clings on because he doesn’t know how to let go. “please, don’t leave me.”

✉︎ vil schoenheit // acts until the curtain falls

• if vil notices the dried tear stains that left blotches on your cheeks, he doesn’t mention it. or maybe he didn’t care enough anymore. you pull him away from his peers in the film studies club and for the first time in what may have been weeks, vil’s attention is solely on you. he smiles at you and you know it’s not genuine; attempting to do the same, you feign the experience of the actor before you. “vil, we should stop seeing each other.”

• “are you doing this right here? do i have a say in this matter at all?” he’s smiling with his teeth now, tight-lipped, though keeping it in place is so, so painful. “you’re just going to make this decision for both of us?” when you nod your head, vil no longer bothers to keep up appearances. his smile drops. he’s co-starred in enough coming-of-age romances to know where this leads. he knows what will become of your relationship. “whatever i said to you before-” he’s reaching out to caress you but you catch his hand, stony faced.

• “save it vil. you went too far. we’re finished.” there’s no trace of warmth in your tone. he takes you in properly, noticing your red-rimmed eyes and disheveled state. he knows that that he’s the one to blame for it—the taste of guilt is sour on his tongue. you look defeated, and vil feels his own eyes sting as he takes a step back. he can’t make a rebuttal because he knows you’re right. all he can do is watch you leave. he can’t get a hold of himself, a little faint—he was a mockery of an actor, and made a mockery of a being a good boyfriend.

• he shouts your name, a fruitless final attempt to make things right. you don’t turn once.

✉︎ azul ashengrotto // loses his voice

• “it’s over.” you say, plain as it is, but to the point. you no longer have the energy to sugarcoat things. azul freezes at his desk, pen falling out of his hands and dropping to the floor with a small ‘thud.’ he had seen it coming, just not so soon. he needed more time to prepare, to try and stop the inevitable… but this had been premeditated. your relationship had overrun it’s due course.

• he’s pushing away the negative, self-depreciative thoughts that flood his mind (he doesn’t have the time to think selfishly right now. not when he might lose you), immediately rising from his seat to stand in front of you. he hopes you can’t see the frantic shaking of his hands. “please don’t say that.” it takes everything in him to not let himself break, voice wobbling as he cups your face, looking directly at you. “we can talk, we can find a solution—”

• “we’ve been talking. all we do is disagree. this isn’t a problem you can solve by using a contract or some crappy bargain. i’m not one of your customers.” taken aback by your sudden outburst, his eyes widen, brimming with tears abruptly. “i’m done with you, and this.” you gesture to his office, years worth of his hard work, peeling him off you. he’s scrambling his thoughts together to form a sentence, mouth hung open, but nothing comes. has he lost the ability to speak altogether? he wants to tell you to stay, but his jaw screws shut again. why can’t he speak? is this a curse? why won’t his voice come out when he so badly needs it to?

• he feels himself shatter.

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

| Notes: Hi, @diavolosbaby and dear readers~ This is the part finale of my Idia’s scenario, “Winter Melts Into Spring”, and our 50th and last request for the Cherry’s Harvesting event. As I said, this fic got so looong, that I had to split it into two parts.

Curiosity: the title of this fic is inspired by a track from Fruits Basket’s (2019) soundtrack, the original name being “Snow Melts Into Spring” and its alt and longer version, “Spring Will Come When the Snow Melts Away” (here so you can listen to if you’re curious). For those who don't know, the myth of Persephone and Hades is what explains the change of seasons and that’s why this theme is so heavily implied here, just as other videogame references (tho I’m not much of a gamer myself… ik Idia, shame on me).

Hope you like the part finale and I really hope I did justice to Idia’s character, I tried the best I could. I needed to condense most of the story or this would be a longfic and not a one-shot. And it’s already a hell of a long one-shot (for my normal amount of writing, at least). Now, grab a hot beverage, a blanket if its cold where you are (its here for me) and hope its a good read.

Thanks for the request <3 |

Idia Shroud x gender neutral reader / scenario / part 1 (here)- part 2 (3550k words) / mentions of breakup with Vil Schoenheit / angst, hurt and comfort, fluff / seasons and greek mythology references / minor chapter 6 mentions and references / use of “you” pronouns

Cherry’s Harvesting 🍒 Masterlist

Winter Melts Into Spring

{𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, “𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐬”}

        You quickly turned to him, waking up from your incessant thoughts. It was another game night and you were sitting side by side in his bed, cellphones in hand. As your game was over, you became a bit dispersed.

        “Have you listened to Euterpe-ram’s new playlist?,” Idia shyly showed you his phone, your surprised and intense gaze had taken him by surprise at that moment.

        Without paying much mind, you read the title, the number of songs and the cover image, things that made you sigh. Then, almost in auto mode, you said:

        “It took me a hell of a lot of work to find that image…”

        Panic hit your senses as you turned your gaze to Idia and he looked as painfully surprised as you. You tried to think of something to say but he quickly realized what was going on.

        “Are you Euterpe-ram?!,” Idia exclaimed. You see his brain cells going short-circuit. “W-when? Come again? Ah! What you said... about what I thought… the playlist…? You wanted my opinion? Is that why?! I had no idea!”

        Idia held back a little as he noticed that you had cringed in your place, a little shaky from the quick way he was speaking. You knew that Idia spoke like that when he was agitated and although you had been amused by this little quirk on other occasions, at that moment you felt as if you had dropped a bomb.

        Well, was it a secret worth hiding? Actually, everything that happened was just an omission of information. 

        As you regained your composure, Idia looked back at his phone and remembered the playlist he was listening to when you walked into his room that night. Songs to listen to when you're heartbroken but don’t want to admit it. 

        When he found that title, he thought it was a strange coincidence to find something that could express so well what he was feeling at the moment — and Idia already had a bad opinion about coincidences. 

        There are no such things. Everything happens for a reason. And he was right in part. Idia didn't have to ask why you had created that melancholic playlist about love. Given your situation, there was no other reason.

        Mindlessly, Idia went to Euterpe-ram’s profile — your profile — on magify and found the playlist he wanted to review with you. This one, with a completely different theme, was pretty much the opposite of its playlist-sister. A playlist of positive love songs and some hesitant, longing ones. Again, you two were in sync yet by pure coincidence. How was that possible?

        “This playlist... is cool,” Idia said suddenly. You nodded silently, not knowing what to say.

        He had noticed that you were slowly returning to your usual “you” along the weeks, going back to being the endearing spring that captivated him so much. The choice of those songs seemed a manifestation of that. 

        “Are you in love?,” this question slipped away unintentionally, and Idia’s heart failed for a second. “S-sorry! I shouldn't meddle in these things!”

        “Nice move, Idia! Go there, spoil these good times you have been having!” He wanted to hide somewhere, but he was already in his own room. There weren't many places to run at the moment.

        “It’s alright... I think that would be inevitable to talk about,” you replied. You were completely turned to him but your gaze was caught in the zipper of his coat, an easy point to stare at as you talked about these complicated feelings. “A fantastic thing happened to me…”

        Idia felt as if he had stepped into a bath with cold water, disappointment already taking over his heart. He already had an idea of what was going to happen. You’d say who you were in love with at this time, he would inevitably be the Protagonist’s Friend once again — an improved version, he tried to convince himself to be — and you two would have a long, awkward conversation about love.

        “What happened?,” he asked in a low tone, since you had paused the sentence in the middle.

        “You.”

        At that, you looked up and bravely, faced Idia’s eyes. You were like a mythological hero facing the depths of Hades, ready to throw yourself into an epic adventure of life and death with no regrets. On the other hand, Idia felt like you had slapped him.

        “W-wha-what?,” he didn't even know what to say. How to talk. How to put words together. How to form a coherent sentence. His hair seemed to fry his neurons again, pink crackling at the ends.

        “It's a long story... but at first, I was always curious about you. It's hard not to notice you, to be honest,” you tried to laugh a little to relieve tension. “The more I talked to you, this curiosity increased and I really wanted to be your friend. I have met many nice people all these months and you are all special to me... well, I admit that you and Vil have had a certain prominence.”

        You sighed, like a flower after a strong breeze shakes it in the field but doesn’t get taken from from its roots.

         “Perhaps I’m a very aesthetic person and never noticed it, but Vil’ beauty captivated me. Just like you. But in different ways. And at first, I thought my admiration for Vil had become strong enough to be a passion. Epic love like in the movies, you know? Two hours of film for a splendid and satisfying ending. But it was… not so. It wasn't love. It was something good, positive, full of empathy... but not love.”

        It was the first time Idia noticed a bit of winter in your eyes, as if a snowflake had landed on one of your petals. Your gaze had dropped a little, you were still playing with his coat’s zipper — you liked to stare at that little skull for some reason. 

        Idia bit his tongue, trying to stop himself from saying something, but he couldn't help but ask:

        “When you talked about your breakup with the Vil... well, it always bothered me a little,” having said that, your gaze returned directly to him. “There's something very vague, you know? Something you didn't say. What was it?”

        He felt a bit stupid asking that. Truth be told, he was afraid of this conversation and what could happen. Still, he wanted to understand the situation better. Vil and you seemed like the perfect couple — so, what went wrong? 

        You talked about incompatibility but it only seemed like half of the truth. Something that had happened, however, wasn't the main reason. Something you wanted to say but didn't. Part of Idia wanted to know what it was, meanwhile the other wanted to be consumed in flames and simply disappear from there. 

        For a moment, you hesitated about giving him an answer. Quick flashbacks of some of your conversations with Vil flashed through your mind. During the time you spent together, you talked about a lot of things — especially after his overblot. But most subjects ended up stopping at a specific topic.

        “When we broke up, we talked about some problems between us. Things that happened but we didn't know how to solve them. Vil said that I was talking a lot about you. More than anyone else,” you revealed, feeling your heart tremble for a second. It was as if something burned inside, taking away the cold from before.

        “Because of what happened to me...?,” Idia risked saying.

        “No,” your answer was immediate. “Before that. I asked what you were like, if you were always so reclusive, if there was a way I could talk to you, if you two were in the same class. A lot of stuff. I said, you make me very curious.”

        “And I don't know why.”

        It had been a grumble that Idia let slip and fastly, he covered his mouth, looking away from you. You already anticipated such a reaction from him and, contrary to what Idia thought was going to happen, you smiled at him.

        “You're more interesting than you think, Idia,” you giggled as you watched him try to hide inside his coat, but the pink ends of his hair didn’t lie. “You can deny it all you want but you are someone very intriguing. Your way of acting, of dealing with the world... I want to understand and know all this.”

         From the depths of Idia’s hood, his eyes began to stare at you as if you were the weird one there. You leaned more into your pillow, your head tilted and looking at him the way someone stares at their favorite packet of snacks they haven’t found on the shelf in months — and finally Sam had stocked up on them again. 

        Were you trying to kill Idia?! Was this your evil plan? Not you, the sweet deity of spring, being a character with a secret sadistic side underneath your gentle smile and gaze sweet as honey and ambrosia. 

        “Maybe I should have been honest with Vil from the beginning. Maybe if I had better understood what I was doing... my own feelings,” you sighed. 

        “Did you really talk about me that much?,” Idia asked, still incredulous. 

        To his great surprise, it was your turn to take an embarrassment hit with medium damage. It was a little dark inside his coat and the lights weren’t extremely bright — even if it managed to illuminate the room well — but even so, Idia had the strange impression that your face was tense and flustered. 

        “Maybe... enough to make Vil a little jealous…”

        “WHAT?!,” Idia exploded out of his hood. “In what universe is this possible?! What kind of scenario is this? Vil Schoenheit envy me? Under what circumstances? Does he have to act like a socially awkward guy who doesn't go out in the Sun and has dark circles under his eyes and he, at the must of perfectionism, hates the fact that his makeup doesn't give as realistic an impression as my appearance? Never!”

        Idia had heard of stories of a goddess of love being jealous of some very beautiful mortal women — but in those stories, there was the implication that she had a pretty good reason to envy them. Would anyone, under any circumstances, envy Idia Shroud? 

        “Idia, your hair!,” you warned him.

        The flames of his hair were in an interesting gradient of blue, orange and pink, mixing all his emotions at once. Idia took a deep breath and tapped his long locks back to its usual blue. Was he still angry? Yes. Embarrassed? Extremely. Confused? Even more every second.

        However, his agitation has yet to be overcome. In the heat of the moment, Idia held you by the shoulders for you to face him directly. His grip was firm but weak enough for you to let go of him if that were your desire. He felt like someone who hurriedly picked up a large handful of wheat in the field to run and protect it from the heavy rain.

        Your cellphones lie forgotten somewhere between the bedsheets, unaware of the emotion-filled moment between their owners that would make tragedy plays and shojo anime envious. 

        “Please, just explain to me why you are so obsessed with me,” Idia asked, desperate. He could no longer endure such uncertainty and confusion. “You’ve finally met me! There you go! Game over. It takes no more than a day to understand how I act, how I eat and my habitat. I’m the lamest kind of lab mouse there is! How can you have fun with me?! Either you’re too bored...!”

        “Idia, you don’t understand! What I feel for you isn’t an obsession.”

        “Hyperfixation?,” he tried to correct it.

        “It's love, Idia.”

        On the Isle of Lamentation, the only grasp of vegetation is a series of large shrubs around the entire island to keep oxygen levels regulated and healthy. Nevertheless, there weren’t many flowers — or anything Idia had ever been interested in planting and observing. But he wondered if the opening of a flower bud was equal to your eyes blinking in his direction.

        “Love?!,” Idia’s blood boiled and exploded again. His hair rose in a big, hot pink blaze.

        You weren't shaken by his reaction this time. On the contrary, his heart beat fast in continual captivation — and a certain amusement too. 

        Idia was this big papyrus that was easy to open, even if it was hard to read at times. But you could understand him perfectly. Maybe it was a gift, maybe you just were very similar to him or there was some other reason. What mattered, deep down, was that his mannerisms endeared you in a way that not even the fairest of them all could. 

        You didn’t bother to ask how this was possible. 

        You already entertained yourself with the possibilities of the Underworld by facing the place from afar. When Ortho — your petite Charon — took you there, a poor sorrowful soul, you let yourself be led like someone who had no choice. Dying is never a fully realized wish, there is always some sort of regret and fear. For you, for others.

        Yet, the lord of the dead received you in his realm even in your deplorable state and let you wander there, no longer as a soul but as an equal. Someone who could belong there and make your own pomegranate garden.

        “These last times have been the best. I’m grateful for your kindness and your patience with me. This whole time you have been acting like yourself around me,” you said. “While most people here are walking on eggshells about it and another part doesn’t really care, you managed to balance the two things perfectly.” 

        Your friends sought to avoid talking about Vil. Your more distant colleagues couldn’t be less shaken about any of this. Ortho wanted to cheer you up because he had the purest of youthful hearts. And Idia just stretched out a game control for you and listened to a playlist beside you — your own pain, whether spoken, whether chosen musically.

        He didn’t have a heart of stone. He cared about you and, in his own way, he made things easier. If it was someone else, you wouldn’t have recovered so quickly. This conditioning made you feel self-doubt about what you felt. 

        But doubts aren’t such a powerful titan that cannot be overcome sooner or later. 

        “To tell you the truth, getting to know you better has only made me realize that it is you who gives me the biggest comfort to be who I am. Here there are no worries, pressure, challenges. I'm just me... and you're just you. Every day, I discover something new about you, Idia, and it's valuable. Genuine. Feel right.” 

        The more layers you peeled off of Vil, you found that he covered himself with others. He didn't want to worry you beyond what was necessary. His heart was a castle with a trapdoor, dungeons and endless catacombs, things he didn’t want you to explore in any circumstance. He wasn’t ready yet.

        One day in the future, he would find someone who could understand him better and would have more persistence in uncovering the shadows and wrinkles he strove every day to disguise and get rid of. Someone who could convince him that this ugliness is natural and not a terrible punishment. A person who Vil would listen to. 

        That someone wasn’t you. Even as a friend, your words grew on him in a sufficiently deep and, at the same time, superficial way. Beautiful roses in the first days, dried and yellowed petals at the weekend — flowers that needed to be changed in the vase every week. 

        It wasn’t what Vil or you needed. You weren’t meant to be the Hercules of his story. Your fate was connected with someone else’s.

        “I won’t delude myself and think that I know everything about you. Or that you won’t have parts of yourself that you obviously won't want to show me. But...,” Idia’s figure, with his huge golden eyes, staring at you seemed to blur suddenly. “...I’m so glad to be with you. Every day, every night. Grim sometimes needs to come here to take me off, because otherwise I won't go back to Ramshackle. But it’s not because I want to avoid memories anymore!”

        There were tears that flowed down from your eyes, just like light rain in a field of daffodils. You stood up on top of the bed, arms outstretched gesticulating energetically to everything around you two. 

        “I love this place! This dorm, this room, these sweaty sheets, bright screens at midnight, opening a Goblin can with you and toast for one more victory, smell of snacks each week. I want to convince Grim to be here too because everything about this place is wonderful. Can’t you see? We are like the gods of this cosmos...!”

        Idia held your hand suddenly and you interrupted your stately monologue to look at him --- and also take a moment to wipe some tears from your face. Idia had his eyes fixed on you, the ends of his hair crackling the same hot pink as before. 

        Your words touched him deeply, making it seem for a moment that you were talking about Elysium and not Inferno. It didn't have to have such impressive glory. He was entirely satisfied with his humble piece of Underworld. Still, you filled that morbid, dark place with flowers and fruits, finding fertility in even the dustiest graves.

        Why were you like that? Why did it make his insides crawl with shame and embarrassment at the same intensity that his heart was pounding fast? Completely unfair! 

        “Damn it, you look like an anime protagonist talking. It gets on my nerves,” Idia lowered his head so you wouldn’t see his pale face heat with color. “Ah... I love you too much to bully you about these things…”

        If you were drinking something, you would have choked. Or spilled it. It would be more mess than what was already.

        “Idia?,” you knelt there, trying to make him face you again. “Do you love me?”

        “I-I’m not saying it again.”

        “Idia, with a thousand hydra heads, put something in your stove of a head!”

        In what he wanted to run away from his bed, you held his face and stood close enough that your noses crushed together.

        “I love you. Not out of pity, not out of simple curiosity. I want to know more about you just so I can love you more. The good, the bad, the neutral parts. Everything.”

        What was that sound in your head? Your heart? Epic music?

        “You’ll be that precious game that I will play infinitely because it’s my favorite and never fails to bring me a smile on my face!”

        “Please stop talking like that. You drive me crazy,” Idia also held your face, a little harder this time, and pulled you a little away from him.

        Idia’s hands were cold as mausoleum stones. His long, pale fingers gripping the entire outline of your face. Despite the cold hands, his face was warm. 

        Your words were like gasoline to him. He was only stopping you from going on because one more intense speech about how much you loved him — unbelievable, you really hit rock bottom, huh? — would have him have a heart attack right there.

        Idia would die of embarrassment in your arms. And, for Hades’s curved chin, you would have the audacity to mourn his death with more shameful oaths of love.

        Idia was determined to be strong. For about five minutes, at least. With you there, it was as if he could hold the whole universe in his hands. It was such a scary realization, but also amazing.

        “Briger of death. Ramshackle muse. Spring deity...,” he tried to list titles for you, beautiful words that could express what he felt. But he needed a serious backup for this. “Ugh, I wasn’t made for these types of dialogue! To be honest, you make me look so normal!”

        “Thanks.”

        “Consider that I am the basis of comparison. This is not a compliment.” 

        “It is. For me, it is.”

        You gave a big smile that almost broke Idia. You really had no compassion. At the end of the day, maybe you weren’t a perfect deity. You were just a weirdo like Idia, probably more. But he liked it — without realizing it, he smiled too. 

        In your romantic playlist, Idia had found a song to call his favorite. It had no lyrics, just a melody. “Snow that melts into spring”. It was how he felt with you right there in front of him. You two could really be who you were together. Both gods and mere mortals. 

        Idia wasn’t the Protagonist’s Friend. He was just Idia Shroud. In its pathos, in its awesomeness, in its card SSR level and in its simplicity of R card. And you loved him all despite this. 

        “You’re so weird...,” Idia brought your faces closer to each other again and like a key stuck on the keyboard, he continued. “...and I love this in you.”

        Winter might be over but you felt vividly what a kiss of snow was. Frosty, gently melting into warm lips of spring petals. Love can be so lively.

| Special notes: Euterpe is the name of the Muse of Music. "Ram" is the acronym for "random-access memory" (is a form of computer memory) + Ramshackle. I forgot to explain this when I posted in case someone didn't understood the whole thing behind Reader's magify username... yes, magify, I made it |

OH ABOUT THE NEW PARTS OF THE HALLOWEEN EVENT! ofc I finished them already and it was SO FUNNY. I WAS GIGGLING AT MY PHONE WHILE PLAYING. the amount of screenshots I took...

Riddle say sike rn

AZUL'S GOT PRIORITIES !!! pls the decorations were expensive we can't have anyone breaking them

I LAUGHED SO HARD AT THIS, Jamil coringando real...

not them menaging to render SEBEK of all people speechless... the man was too stunned to speak

and now just these two images out of context. Rook copying Epel's accent got me by surprise, I think he's doing both a country and a french accent at the same time

closer

synopsis: barbatos’ birthday was an unusually important occasion to you but it left you feeling rather disappointed. That is, until you were able to meet Barbatos in the garden.  (meant to be read as if it was the start of the exchange program while you two were still distant.)

word count: 1.3k warnings: grass

Even for the briefest of times that you’ve found yourself inside the Devildom; you’ve always looked upon Diavolo with a certain sense of pity. A certain restraint too – how can someone so special to everyone around him, someone so powerful that holds strands of all that goes on – be so lonely? Is it even alright to pity him for that? Perhaps his kind of lonely was a luxury only few could ever afford?  

But then again; you are simply a human. Someone out there would surely be brave enough and ignorant enough to say that even your kind of lonely inside this darkness where you were treated so fragilely but also savagely, was a luxurious feeling.  

You might be lonely but you’re in the darkness that hasn’t swallowed you.  

But, why even compare?   Isn’t loneliness enough by itself so that it means something?  

But over time, things surely change and you’ve grown more open to this realm and in response it seemed to grow gentler to you too.  

And you’ve realized – that Diavolo sees Barbatos as an extension of himself.

Continuar lendo

Here are the roles for the other characters in my fic, i’ve become the villain’s lover! I’ve also included a sentence or two on how they would be as love interests. The difference with the side characters is that you’d have to be the one to pursue them, unlike how the housewardens try to pursue you. The housewardens would respect your decision no matter what, but would probably be a bit more happy if you decided to date someone from within their dorm (they’re petty like that).

Ace Trappola: The new, impish knight that Riddle hired. He followed in his brother’s footsteps, but doesn’t seem to take his job very seriously, playing petty pranks that often lead to hour long lectures from Riddle. Still, he’s skilled and quick-witted, and Riddle has admitted that he sees potential in him. He treats you like an old friend, quick to sling his arm around you and complain about Riddle’s temper. He’ll flirt with you as a joke, but if you don’t shy from his advances, he may take it a bit more seriously…

Deuce Spade: The other new hire who’s determined to prove himself. Coming from humble origins, Deuce once fell into a group of thieves and almost committed to a lifetime of crime before he heard his mother cry over him. After that, he turned over a new leaf and trained to become a knight to make her proud. Well intentioned but prone to accidents due to his straightforward and gullible nature, Deuce is often teased by Ace. Still, it was easy for him to fall for you at first sight. He’s determined to keep his feelings to himself, but if you reciprocate, then you might have a loyal knight pledging himself to you for the rest of your life…

Trey Clover: Riddle’s most trusted vassal, and a man born into a commoner family. He’s known Riddle since they were very little, and when he became a knight, Riddle was the first to appoint him. This caused a stir because knights are usually appointed from noble families. Still, Trey is genial and well liked, and does his job diligently. He treats you well, often pausing to pat your head and ask how your day has been. He tells you that if you need anything, don’t hesitate to knock on his door. Trey seems to treat you a little more kinder than others, but is that because you’re important to Riddle, or to Trey himself?

Cater Diamond: Cater is carefree and bright, and the most popular of Riddle’s vassals by far. Though his origins are unknown, as he simply wandered into town one day, Cater claims he comes from a minor noble family. Despite his seemingly open personality and endless list of friends, Cater keeps everyone at a measured distance. He’s friendly and affectionate with you, but if you attempt to start a relationship with him, perhaps you might be the first person to break down his walls…

Jack Howl: A man intensely loyal to Leona, Jack admires him for his strength and intelligence— though they often argue over Leona’s underhanded methods. How did a man as straight laced as Jack ever become entangled with Leona, anyways? Perhaps it’s because Jack seeks to best Leona one day. Though he acts gruff and uninterested, Jack often accompanies you around town and handles minor repairs around your house without complaint. And with the way Jack’s tail wags around you, a relationship might not be as hard to start as you initially thought…

Ruggie Bucchi: Leona’s most trusted aide and right hand man. If Leona gives orders, then Ruggie is the one carrying out the grunt work and getting his hands dirty. Born in the slums, Ruggie believes whole heartedly in Leona’s cause and wants to make a difference in their country. Wily and clever, Ruggie will follow you around town and make you laugh while his fingers inch closer to your wallet. Despite his mentality that it’s a dog-eat-dog world, it seems he may have developed a soft spot for you… Now, what will you do about that?

Jade Leech: Along with his brother, Jade and Floyd have known Azul since he was young, along with every sordid detail of his past. Though polite and calm on the surface, underneath that, Jade is always seeking a new source of amusement. He carries out all of Azul’s plans flawlessly, and handles the blackmail and interrogations for him. It seems like he’s deemed you a new source of entertainment, but perhaps his feelings run a little deeper than that…

Floyd Leech: Someone who lives by his whims, Floyd is temperamental and capricious. He handles the physical aspects of Azul’s plans, such as threatening debtors who refuse to fulfill their contracts. He doesn’t seem terribly interested in people outside of his family or his close friends, but you seem to have caught his interest due to all your unpredictable actions. It’s up to you if you want to integrate yourself into his inner circle, or pursue something farther with him…

Kalim Al-Asim: After everything that happened, Kalim sees you as a close friend! Kind, sweet, and always willing to see the good in others, it’s no wonder that Kalim ended up as your favorite character in the novel. He basically treats you like a partner, always affectionately curling up to you or inviting you out to eat whilst holding hands. It seems Kalim’s feelings towards you are frustratingly vague, so it’s up to you to define what you want them to be.

Epel Felmier: In Epel’s eyes, the two of you have been through thick and thin, so he’s very fond of you already. It’s easy to be himself around you, and not the perfect gentleman Vil is training him to be. His accent slips through while you talk, and the two of you often work on a little garden that Epel has planted out back. However, Epel seems to be a bit moodier than usual when you spend time with others, and tries to impress you with great feats of strength when you’re around. Now, what could the source of this change be?

Rook Hunt: Vil’s right hand man, and a retainer who has been by his side for years. It’s hard to get a handle on him: there are no details on his past despite his exuberant nature, and he has a habit of sneaking up on others. Vil often sends Rook on… tasks… that take him days to complete. Rook is completely charmed by you, though, and often espouses your beauty and talent. Rook welcomes any advances you would make on him with open arms; whether he experiences the beauty of love himself or watches it blossom in front of him, he will always have his eye on you.

Sebek Zigvolt: Sebek comes from a long line of fae knights who have pledged their service to the Draconia family, and takes pride in his heritage. However, he suffers from insecurity over the knowledge that his father is an ordinary human. He’s determined to prove himself worthy of his title, and seems to view you as a nuisance. However, he is the first to draw his sword to protect you, so perhaps there might more to his feelings than hostility…

Silver: Silver is Lilia’s adopted human son, though no one knows precisely where he hails from. It’s said that Lilia simply showed up one day in the palace, covered in blood and carrying a snoozing baby. There are rumors that Silver is the child of an enemy general, or from an enemy kingdom, though Silver himself seems content with his current family. It might take him a bit to realize your feelings towards him, but he’ll always welcome you to the palace with a gentle smile and an outstretched hand, no matter his own feelings.

Lilia Vanrouge: Malleus’s advisor and someone who has watched over him for a long, long time. You’ve heard whispers that in the far past, he was a great general who led the kingdom to numerous victories. Though there are contradicting accounts on Lilia’s precise age, everyone agrees that he was tasked by the now retired queen to watch over her grandson, Malleus. Though he has seen much and lost many, Lilia is not afraid to embrace new relationships in his life. He seems to take your potential interest in him as a challenge…