Boba

TH/EN is okay☘️| I like writing fics, reading webtoons and playing games. | I'm a huge introverted otaku 💕| I'm 20+ y/o!

[mewpangxin]

— Twisted Wonderland —

A/N: Welcome to my navigation page.

I hope you will find the stories you search for, my readers. Do tread with haste, you wouldn't want to get trapped in wonderland, ah would you<3?

About me: You can call me as Nobu, Boba or Xin! I'm okay with all, and my DMs are always open.

•━━━━༻❝ ♥️ ❞༺ ━━━━•

Villain to Kill/VTK fic - ❝—Listening — ❞ • FT. Crow and Driver. | General themes

— Proceed with caution —

☽ — Rules —☽ | Favorite work | TWST_NL/Yume

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Main account | My friends/mutuals | 🎈WRITERS AND ARTISTS APPRECIATION POST🧸—

•━━━━༻❝ ♥️ ❞༺ ━━━━•

⭑ Masterlist ⭑

— OVERBLOTS! X GN! READER —⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ . ┊FT. Riddle, Azul and Malleus in this.

♥️The Queen Of Hearts♥️ • Riddle Rosehearts x Alice! Reader — ( Beware of the red monarch! )

— Swapping body with the dorm leaders — FT. Leona, Kalim, Vil, and Idia♟

— Swapping body with the dorm leaders — FT. Riddle, Azul and Malleus in the fic.

・・❥・OB! TWST BOYS SAYING THEIR LOVE TO THEIR S/O THEIR BEST・・❥・

・・❥・OB! TWST BOYS SAYING THEIR LOVE TO THEIR S/O THEIR BEST PT. TWO・・❥・

☆ﾐReacting to you teasing them about their crush— • (FT. Epel, Deuce and Ace by a request.) ☆ﾐ

TWST SELF AWARE AU

—✦Thoughts on what would happen if the reader loses memory in Glorious Masquerade Events —✦

— Housewardens With An Innocent S/O — • FT. Riddle, Azul and Malleus in the hc.

—❝ What is your answer to their devotion? ❞— FT. Riddle, Azul and Malleus.

— ❝ Have You Been Dreaming Of Me? ❞ — FT. OB! Azul X GN! Reader X Azul Ashengrotto

❝ I CAN’T BE WITH YOU. ❞ — By Dorm leaders ✿

- General Yandere! Jamil Headcanons -

- A Letter By Leona Kingscholar -

— Swapping body with the vice heads — FT. Trey, Jade and Rook in the headcanon.

Hopelessness — Riddle Rosehearts X GN! Reader.

⊹˚ Loneliness ࿐ FT. Malleus Draconia.

- A Letter By Azul Ashengrotto -

- A Letter By Riddle Rosehearts -

— More on the list by @mewpangxin —

✦—Meeting Their OB! Selves—✦

— With a s/o who is a writer and illustrator— • ☆ﾐ(FT. Riddle, Azul and Malleus.)☆ﾐ

What IF Riddle was engaged and he doesn't want it?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

ⓒ MEWPANGXIN, please do not repost, copy or translate my works unless I give you consent to it.

[merakiui]

pareidolia.

yandere!female!azul ashengrotto x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, gn (no pronouns used) but basically doomed yuri vibes, obsession, death, implied suicide, angst, grief, codependency, man that mold sure is freaky note - when azul promised she'd never leave you, she was serious. so as the world outside falls apart, you embrace sickening rot from within.

Your girlfriend is dead.

She’s been dead for two months now, but it seems like years since you last felt her warmth, listened to her breath, smelled her. Sea salt and lavender or whatever other perfume oil she’d roll onto her wrists. She was your other half in all aspects of life. Like when she’d slide into bed with you and you’d click together like puzzle pieces. Or when you’d curl so close to her in hugs that it was almost as if you were trying to melt into her soft, pudgy stomach. Love is stored in the gut, and you’d squeeze her and she’d grouse at you for that, embarrassed and flattered in the same measure. 

Now she’s gone and in her absence there is emptiness. A cavernous stretch of what-if and what-could’ve-been. You’ll never understand why the dead are made to look peaceful if they’ve met a gruesome end. The sort cosmetics just can’t cover.

The sort that requires stitching or, maybe, a closed casket. In fact, just cremate her already. You don’t want to see her. You don’t want to live it all over again.

So that’s what they did, and now you keep her urn on the highest shelf so that she may overlook your bedroom. A place of bliss, once shared. Now the bed feels larger and empty, and you’re cold at night.

What is it about Azul you miss? You try to write about her, sketch her, sing her favorite songs, eat her favorite foods. You try to emulate her. To become her—it’s the closest you’ll get to having her in your life again. Wear her sweaters and then yank them off because it feels wrong. Because it burns your skin. Because you’re not Azul and your Azul is gone.

You miss her smirk-smile. Her pretty mole, placed so perfectly beneath her pouty lips, and every morning you’d roll her onto her back and kiss it. You miss her wry sense of humor. You miss her dedication. You miss the way she’d laugh, genuinely and honestly, when it was just you and her. You miss going places with her. Errands. Dates. Simple outings. Extravagant outings. Every outing ever. You miss listening to her huff and puff over the stock market. You miss her. Everything. The good and the bad. The ugly and the pretty. The physical and the emotional. Her weight atop you. Her legs tangled with yours. Her. Her. Her.

Sometimes you wonder why she did it. That’s what everyone always wants to know, right? She didn’t leave a note, but instead left the gaping pit caused by her absence, hollowed out into your heart like a worm chews through an apple core. 

Maybe you’re not supposed to know. One of those ‘between her and the sea spirits’ thing. Maybe you don’t want to know.

Maybe you shouldn’t know.

You leave her side of the bed untouched, though sometimes you swear you can still smell her on the sheets. Sometimes you think you see the imprint of her in the duvet. She could be a ghost, but then what reason would she have to haunt you from the grave? And it’s not like it’s the grave anyway. She’s right there on the tallest shelf, overlooking the bed. At night, the impenetrable darkness spills into your eyes and you think you can see the outline of her, standing at the foot of your bed, watching.

“Please,” you’ll beg her, rotting there in your misery, waiting for your angel to embrace you, “just come back to bed, Az.”

Come back to me from your ashes. In one piece. Like a phoenix. 

There’s never a reply until recently, when the darkness blinked back at you. As if sapphire gemstones caught some secretive light. Most of your days are spent affixed to your bed. What day is it? What time is it? How many calendar pages have you turned? What’s become of the world outside?

You’ve gotten used to swanning about in the darkness, clumsily kicking up trash and clothes, empty bottles, half-used hair products. If Azul were here, she’d complain about the mess. She was always so tidy and meticulous. You try to keep her memory clean, but inevitably it’s buried in filth and sadness. Sometimes the two are interchangeable because you can’t have one without the other. Because sometimes the sadness is so all-consuming it makes you immune to the accumulating trash.

Lately, the dark spot in the corner of the room has gotten soft and squishy, fuzzy like putrid mold. You can’t tell in the dark. The house is probably falling apart. You should call someone. A friend. Azul’s family. Anyone. Have they tried calling you? Your phone is dead or lost. It’s somewhere. 

Like always, you pull the covers over your head and decide it’s not worth it today.

— — —

In life, Azul was effervescent. Crisp and bright like the fizziest soda, she popped into your world like a gunshot.

The both of you were searching for outfits for an event. A marketing thing for her. A family friend’s funeral for you. She was ripping into two taller women, who seemed to be teasing her about something. A dress that wasn’t her size. A nasty prank, which warranted every bit the hissing, Medusa-esque tone she took with those mischievous twins. You happened to drift over, like sea foam, to say, “I think that dress would look pretty on you. Anyone with eyes could see that.” And then you pulled the correct size from the racks. “Try this one.”

It was a small, simple gesture, but after she shooed the twins off the both of you got to chatting about fashion. You marveled at your opposing situations. “In some cases, marketing is as much of a funeral as you can imagine.” So you tried to imagine and came up with a funeral director trying to pawn caskets and urns at a funeral, and you laughed. You shared this morbid bit of humor with her and oh. Oh, her laugh. It was the air in your sails. You felt happy to make a pretty lady smile, even more so to see her worry melt away into carefree amusement.

You remember asking for her number just as the twins returned, knowing smiles etched on their near-similar faces. She promised to message you soon.

And, like the other promises she’d make in the two years you were together, she never once broke it.

So you’re not really sure what to think when you see her face in the window during an uneventful Thursday rainstorm. The droplets rolling down her reflection make you think she’s crying, and you all but throw yourself out of bed to meet her at the window. You yank it open, ready to drag her inside, bury your face in her sopping hair, thank the skies she’s returned—

She’s not there. Mud-slicked landscape sprawls endlessly. The trees whip to and fro in the wind. Rain batters your face. You call out to her: “Azul! Azuuul!”

Something curls around your leg. 

You glance down at your ankle and just miss it.

You peek under the bed and find nothing but shadows and the boxes containing Azul’s stuff. 

Shutting the window, you trudge back to bed, flop onto the mattress, and cry.

You’re unable to gauge the time spent there, making a waterbed out of your tears, but the grief piles up around you. You’re floating on an island in a too-calm sea, just within the eye of a very terrible, horrible storm. 

In what little slivers of the carpet you can see, you can just make out traces of her face. Sometimes she smiles at you. Sometimes she frowns.

But she’s always there, watching. In tiny corners, within your peripheral, on a turn taken too fast.

— — —

“You’re a liar,” you tell Azul’s urn or, more specifically, Azul. She’s huddled within ceramic confines, listening to the verbal barbs thrown her way. You wonder how much of that is really her. What if they just scraped sand together and called it Azul? What if she’s still alive?

On a day of particular hate-driven grief, you address her with malice.

“You fucking liar. You said you’d never leave me. What the hell?” You throw your arms up in disbelief. “I thought we… I thought…”

Like the tide, your anger is quick to ebb out to sea. With the flow comes the emptiness. More sadness. You wilt and sob into your hands.

I thought that someday we’d get married. I wanted to share my life with you. I wanted to wake up to you every morning.

You dig through her side of the closet, which has been left untouched for six months now. Time feels sluggish in the moment, but looking back you realize those two years flew by. So, too, do the months that stretch between you and an increasingly distant Azul. You can’t bring yourself to look at pictures of her or listen to voicemails and videos. But then you also don’t want to forget her face.

Grief is so fucking weird.

It turns you inside-out, almost like a plushie in need of new stuffing. Only the stuffing hurts because healing hurts and this isn’t really healing if you’re just stuck in stagnating suffering.

Today, you poke at the thing growing in the corner of the room. Blackened tendrils spread out from the furry center, crawling up the wall, reaching for your finger. It wasn’t this big the last time you spared it a glance. Or… Was it? You don’t know.

By tomorrow and the next day and the one after that, it will have slithered up half the wall. 

You’ll scrape some of it off, only for more to return. 

The furry tendrils reach up, up, up towards the shelf where Azul’s ashes rest. 

They creep along the carpet towards the bed. 

When you wake up next, they’re folded around your feet. 

You decide you’ll finally step outside when the mold grabs hold of the shelves next, nearly tipping Azul’s urn in their greedy pursuit. 

“You’re gonna hate me when you come back,” you tell the urn as you walk along the beach, sand cool and gritty between your toes. The waters are calm today, brushing along the shore like fingers through hair. Like your fingers, tangled through Azul’s sea-salted strands, so soft and sweet, so stained with blood and tears. “The house is a total mess. I’m…a total mess.”

A cough suddenly seizes you. You cradle Azul in your arm and hack up blood so deeply purple it’s nearly obsidian. Staring at the splatter in your palm, you contemplate its meaning. Bad. Definitely bad.

Frigid, wispy fingers drag across the beach and grab at your clothes. Wiping your hand on your sweats, you resolve to trek back inside. 

Wish you were here, you think, setting Azul on the kitchen table. Why aren’t you here? 

Sometimes you’re angry with her. Other times you’re sad and you mourn for her. Other times you try to laugh with her: I’ve started keeping up with the stock market. Just for you. It’s crazy out there. But you always come back to the same thought: Wish you were here. 

You wish for a lot of things.

Once, you believed Azul was a magician. She could grant all of your wishes with a flick of her fingers. Bring you to your knees, build you back up, whisper enchantments in your ear. And suddenly everything was better.

You wish for a lot of things.

But Azul isn’t around to hear.

Can’t dance her fingers along your shoulders, your lips, up your spine and back. Can’t take you in her arms and cling. Can’t sit at the table and eat with you, muttering all manner of mundane music. Gratitude and pleasantries, all flavors of love and admiration, stamped into your skin and exchanged at all times of day and night, even when you were bitter with each other.

If there was a spell to bring her back, even if it was against all worldly rules, you’d become a criminal for her. Punishments mean nothing in the face of your beloved, who’s looking through the window at you again. Or maybe her face is shaped in the growing mold, beckoning you close like a siren through duplicitous smoke. 

You wish for a lot of things, but most of all you wish for your girlfriend to come back. Just once. So you can hold her again.

Just once.

— — —

CRASH.

You’re slow to react. Through the darkness, it takes a minute for you to realize you left Azul’s urn in the kitchen. The door is pushed ajar; something’s shuffling about on the floor.

You drag yourself to the edge of your bed and peer down at the floor. Your arms shake with the effort. You forgot to eat again. Blood and bile sit on the tip of your tongue. You swallow thickly. 

A tendril curls along the bed from the floor, reaching with another and then another. Eight of them, each working in tandem to bring her to eye level.

There she is.

It’s her.

It must be.

But you hesitate, pull back, retreat to the corner of your island. She pursues slowly, sluggishly, as if it takes great effort to breach the duvet shore from the carpet sea. Like water’s heaviness is holding her down. 

“A…zul?” you ask. 

A reaching tendril flinches. She’s scared. You know she is. Self-conscious. She’s always been beneath self-satisfied grandeur. 

But the blue. Her eyes. It’s her. It’s really her!

You throw the covers off and throw yourself at the mass propped on the bed. When you embrace her, you feel something cold and squishy. It attaches to you immediately, soft and itchy like peach fuzz. You don’t give a damn about appearances because it’s her. 

Sobbing like a newborn, you squeeze and your fingers sink into her. Azul has always been soft but never this soft. Like decaying fruit. 

But she’s strong, pushing you down, to be on top, so her long hair could fall around you in beautiful curtain curls. You can see her smiling at you through the shadows. 

“A-Azul,” you gasp out, just as she’s surging forth to hold you, to cover you entirely, to take you into her arms just as she always did. “You came back! You finally—”

Like a wave folding over and taking the innocent surfer with it, you’re swallowed in so much sweetness you can’t even choke out another cry.

[siphoklansan]

magicam chronicles ᯓ★

notes ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

ilovemalleus123 is sebek’s account ⚡️

ace shits on siphok in her magicam comments religiously

ramshackle.prefect is siphok’s public account for school stuff and group projects

jade manages the mostro lounge account but gives the password to floyd for shits and giggles

malleus was too tall to fit the frame but it was also badly taken because siphok is short malleus is tall

malleus’s account was made by siphok (he still doesn’t know how to use it)

charin kamolnath is my oc!

[kalims]

⭒ㅤnot gonna lie !

premise. pov prefect opens a ngl, except! the story they shared it from can only be viewed... by one person!

characters. first years

ace

not gonna lie ! smash tbh

unironically pretends that he never sent one when you start bombarding him.

uniquewhere: i didn't even see ur story

shrimp: [attatchment]

uniquewhere: i have no wifi to see that sorry not sorry

vehement denial is actually the most effective defense according to him. even if it bypasses all forms of realism, it's not real if he doesn't believe it to be! <- real life advice from ace trappola guys.

if you haven’t already guessed, he can indeed see the picture you just sent and just assumes his very first form of defense… no amount of proof will remove him from his little ball of: “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

you gotta prepare some kind of miscrosoft presentation, and sit him down. though he will 100% do that thing where he plugs his ears in with his fingers pretending he doesn’t hear anything even though it doesn’t block out you reading out the words.

“here is the real, actual screenshot of my replies—”

“I NEVER EVEN SAW YOUR STORY.”

“ah, good! next slide after this is the views of the story!”

deuce

not gonna lie ! i like you

very demure, very straight to the point is deuce.

he would've written some long ass paragraph in all honesty but he just can't because he sees what he writes, deletes it, then cringes to himself.

atleast with that one he has the excuse for whichever scenario that might randomly ask about it.. (yes, he's thinking that far) weird flex but ok

1. "you ever confessed to your crush?" someone asking

2. "yeah sorta....." deuce

3. "???" someone confused

he was feeling reaaallyyy proud of himself. the anxiousness finally settles down, alongside with his rapidly beating heart. even if it isn't a real, confession it still brings him a bit of peace.

shrimp: I know what you did

tokyodefenders: WHAT?

there goes his heart rate.

like, you did not offer context to any of that but he's still gonna think you somehow, actually do know even if you didn't provide an explanation to... whatever it is you know about him!

tokyodefenders: whaTEVER IT IS IS NKT TRUE

shrimp: please, ur breaking my heart

shrimp: I like u too :(

heart? ascended

he's not even gonna question it. all his braincells got dumped out, and all he can focus on is that particular message. he isn't even gonna remember backtracking about the ngl cause he's gonna be like:

how did they hack my keyboard.. are they tracking it?! LOL

"I'm a mastermind,"

"HOW DID YOU KNOW?!?!" <- deuce, scared for his life.

jack

not gonna lie ! stop getting into trouble. I'm not always there to pull you out

is concerned with how many times you've managed to unknowingly walk into trouble, jack had been lucky enough (yes, him. not you, cause knowing you, you wouldn't be too phased) to be a near constant presence when the shenanigans during the tournament concluded, he stuck to you then.

as in reluctantly following around you like a tail. narrowing his eyes at the less than friendly faces often wore around you, that you were... well, amazingly oblivious to. or maybe you acted like you didn't know, the carriage didn't pick you up for nothing if you were here in nrc.

shrimp: do u rlly think I'm a troublemaker?

iheldheroncejacob: yes

the random topic being brought up went completely over his head. jack probably had forgotten he'd given the link to your story the time of your day, in all honesty

shrimp: well maybe I keep getting in trouble so u can rush in, and pull me out?

iheldheroncejacob: you're a terrible friend then

shrimp: :(

in retrospect jack is able to keep up with joking around, usually. but it's so hard to take you seriously that he takes whatever you say with a grain of salt, you're almost always tipping between flat sarcasm, or calm nonchalance between your words. it almost always has something to do with the people you're with.

the heartslabyul prefect for example, you take a kind, subtle undertone of teasing to (which is crazy, because you're scarily tame in the presence of the vice-dorm head.) and then you're all stony faced when you're with someone you don't like.

^ and you obviously don't dislike jack, if the little selfish, presumptuous nrc part of him would like to claim confidently so... would you really be joking?

only does jack realize the connection between your text, and the ask he sent when he's just finished his laps.

"I'm not your guard dog! why would you even get in trouble for that, next time I'm not even gonna spare you the time cause—"

"what a pee brain."

"what? don't compare my brain to a tiny pee—"

epel

not gonna lie ! CAN I PLS TRANSFER TO RAMSHACKLE AHHHH

you've never met anyone who's disliked being sorted into whatever the dark mirror fitted their 'soul' into as much as epel.

even without the private story only limited to his response, you're sure you could pick out his message and put a face to it.

epel, in his defense, still has savanaclaw as number one in his heart. though upon asking jack if it was possible to transfer there, the latter confirmed but it was... a tedious process, and suggested asking rook, who literally came from savanaclaw!

the boy only spared his friend a side glance before scurrying away. no use traipsing around that...

but of course, getting away from pomefiore is only a goal! always being near your proximity was a biiiiig bonus!

shrimp: hey I need ur files for the dorm transfer

catchwhathands: [escapeplan.jpg]

catchwhathands: I knew u wanted me in ur dorm!!

shrimp: actually I don't. ur the one that asked ;)

catchwhathands: who cares. I'm finally getting out of this hell YEAHHHH!!

shrimp: who said I was gonna use the files you sent?

okay, admittedly the moment he'd sent over the files, epel shut his phone, and quite literally did a victory lap around his room. making sure to frolic so vil has less chances of hearing his chaos...

the dorm leader woke up so easily from noises that you'd think rook was the reason he developed such a habit.

probably.

epel was already planning the plan! he could see the vision! maybe he could plant around ramshackle since it is a pretty big area. you guys would be together for the remainder of the year—and he'd finally bump the adeuce duo from their pedestal!

*ping*

"AGHHHHH STUPID FRIGGIN'—"

"epel!"

"sorry..."

sebek

not gonna lie ! since it is a request for unbridled honesty, I shall deliver what you've requested. you have done so without much thought, clearly! if you've given such leeway for... criticism! you, human, could use a lot more educating in terms of the glory of our eternal lord, the glorious malleus! in accordance to your previous, description of our relationship. the farthest I can give is acquaintance, but I shall only call you a companion (AKA friend) if you are atleast educated about my interests! as the good companion you desire to be!

woo, alright. he really wrote all that...

oh, uh oh.. you just got another ask from him, maybe even longer..?

shrimp: what would that make silver then

rizzvolt: my brother in arms!

shrimp: but hey, actually I do want to know

rizzvolt: ah! finally! I knew you atleast have some common decency, and sense. for that I shall agree for your request in our friendship! these are the most accurate ones pertaining the great lord malleus' biography! [link] [link] [link]

rizzvolt: is that enough? I will send you more, but only if you finish these three. I will test you rigorously to confirm that you are indeed genuine in your interest!

why he has all that, you have no idea.. if only he displayed that much dedication for his studies...

shrimp: I don't wanna learn about malleus

shrimp: I want to learn about you

rizzley: how dare you! the lord's name should only be addressed with a: 'lord', 'the great', 'the

...

sebek stares at his screen, just in the process of finishing his... educating sentence, because even in text, malleus should only be treated with the highest form of respect!

have you no integrity?! he wonders.

only then does he focus on your response, does he make a rather... dubious sound of shock? sebek doesn't know why he breaks into a cold sweat as he runs the sentence through his mind a hundred times in the span of a minute.

what is this... some sort of human illness? or maybe love—

of course he'd never even consider such a thing! (just did bro)

shrimp: sooo.. since you sent me an ask, does that mean you actually like me?

shrimp: sebeeeeekk.. did you actually read?

with the speed of lightning (and the adrenaline maybe, what else could this frantic pounding of his chest explain besides that you are indeed, dangerous!) he opens the story on your media

'send me an ask if you like meeee :)'

sebek promptly falls over.

[devosin]

PERSONALIZED ADVENT CALENDER

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[ recent example work ] [ previous account (over 200 works) ]

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Buy now here (Limited slots) | Genshin Version . . .

[oepionie]

— "HE'S THE OTHER MAN!" . the corpse groom

SYNOPSIS: A ghost groom has claimed MC as his unwilling bride. Unfortunately for him, she's already got a lover

⊹ [ c.w ] — violence, possessive behavior, malleus blows a fucking green laser down ramshackle, mentions of blood, yuu is poor but we alrdy knew that, papa crewel crumbs

⊹ [ w.c ] — 1.6k opening post with malleus! if this gets enough attention, I might do more :P

"You what?" Crewel seethed, eyes wide as an unsettling smile stretched across the red of his cheeks.

"Repeat that."

"I…I accidentally released that ghost from the spellbook," Grim sobbed, his glossy eyes reflecting both fear and guilt as he looked up at the imposing figure of the professor. "And he's taken my henchhuman as his bride!"

Oh, Great Sevens. Not again.

Crewel groaned, his hands reaching up to frantically rub at his burning eyes. The flickering candlelight cast erratic shadows across his face.

"Please, do tell. How in Wonderland did someone with your lackluster skills manage to—" The professor was abruptly cut off by a loud, almost obnoxious cry that echoed from the doorway. Turning sharply, Crewel saw Crowley hunched against the entrance frame, hysterically sobbing into his palms. Fat tears dripped beneath his ornate mask, glistening in the low light. "They grow up so fast! My dear child is already getting married!"

Crewel's eye twitched as he took in the scene: Grim shaking like a leaf, and Crowley, dramatically weeping, pathetically looking to him for a solution.

"Fools," Crewel snarled, striding out of the room as he fished his phone from his coat pocket. "If you two won't be of use, then I'll have to enlist the help of those mutts instead."

The day had started like any other in Ramshackle, but you certainly didn't expect it to end with a wedding. Surrounded by the ghostly residents of the dorm, you stood dressed in all white, a bouquet clutched in your hand. Curling in yourself, you sighed and rested your head in your hands, avoiding everyone's gazes which felt like icy needles on your skin.

Ramshackle's old lounge, with its worn-out floorboards and faded wallpaper, was the chosen venue for your ceremony. Whispers rustled through the gathering, carried on a faint breeze that stirred the dust motes in the dim light. Somewhere in the background, the somber notes of an organ piano echoed. You didn't even know you had a piano…

"Dear?"

Jumping with a shriek, you whipped your head around. A ghostly visage, bathed in a deathly pale blue glow, hovered inches from your face, an unnaturally wide grin stretched across their blue lips. Bony fingers gently traced up your cheeks, sending tingles down your spine.

With sunken eyes and high, sharp cheekbones, Elizan—a "visiting" friend of one of Ramshackle's ghosts—was truly a sight to behold. His complexion had a pallor that matched the moonlight filtering through the decrepit windows of the form. Wisps of long, flowing indigo hair framed his face, swept back as if caught in a breeze that only he could feel.

"You look wonderful," he cooed, pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead, leaving your cheeks burning.

"Ah. Thank you," you stammered, averting your gaze and gently pulling away. You could hardly focus on the words being spoken to you, your mind spinning with the surrealness of it all.

"You look... Good as well," you forced out with a cough, tugging at your hair nervously. "But... Listen... I—"

Before you could finish, the door to the entrance slammed open, nearly breaking off the hinges with a sound that could wake the dead, sending cracks spider-webbing through the already dilapidated walls.

On the inside, you screamed louder than the hinges.

You had painstakingly patched up the door after Grim's recent screw-up—a feat that had tested your patience and carpentry skills to their limit. Unless you wanted to survive on a diet of stale canned food and cafeteria leftovers for another year, you couldn't afford any more repairs.

While you were busy mourning the loss of having decent meals, heaving and leaning against the door for support, your friends called out your name in a panic, their bleary and furious gazes zeroing in on your figure. Clad in white, you stood there, the perfect picture of a pretty blushing bride.

The uninvited guests didn't go unnoticed by your "groom," and in seconds, you were pulled into a suffocating grip. Elizan's usually serene demeanor shattered like fragile glass. His deathly pale features contorted into a snarl, veins pulsing ominously beneath translucent skin. His typically gentle eyes blazed with an unsettling fire, icy whites now narrowed and piercing.

"Mutt!" Crewel seethed, his foot slamming into the floor and shattering the newly installed tiles. Your soul nearly left your body as you screamed inside again. There go a thousand thaumarks…

"What in the Sevens is this!?" Crewel shrieked, running a gloved hand through his tousled hair. With sharp movements, he pointed a finger at Elizan. "I'll have you know I can have you arrested for trespassing, unlawful detention, and violating the sanctity of this academy!"

"How... How dare you? Barging into this sacred ceremony—Who even are you?!" Elizan snapped back, his arms coiling tightly around your torso. The crowd erupted in a haze of shouts and muddled answers. Unable to understand anything, Elizan's intense gaze shifted and bore into yours, demanding answers. You gulped nervously, suddenly feeling small and vulnerable in his grasp.

"Who is he?! Who are they?!" he barked like a dog, flashing his sharp fangs at you.

"Uh… That's my professor—uh, Crewel," you stammered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "And those are… They're my… friends?" Your gaze flickered to the group of men who had entered, their expressions ranging from confusion to anger.

Elizan's wide eyes now filled with shock, white orbs glossed over with luminescent blue tears. He pushed you away as if you had burnt him, recoiling from your touch as though it pained him physically.

"You know other men?!" the ghost cried out, his hands clenching into fists, his midnight blue hair cascading wildly around his face like a tempestuous sea. The tortured cries of the groom echoed through the room, sending a shiver down your spine as you awkwardly shifted on your feet, feeling like a character caught in an soap drama.

"…Yes?" you replied, unsure.

"How could you do this to me?!" He sobbed, a dark shadow covering his face. "Running off on an affair the DAY of our marriage?!"

"Well, that's a rather dramatic accusation—" you started, but Elizan shook his head in anguish.

"Answer me! Do you have another man?!" His voice shook the room, and you took a few cautious steps back.

"Elizan, please," you uttered gently, your eyes darting nervously toward one of the men in the room.

Your lover didn't meet your gaze; instead, his eyes were locked onto the ghost, a storm of emotions brewing beneath his features. As you jumped down from the makeshift podium, you shot an apologetic frown at the ghost, hoping to diffuse the escalating situation. "Don't you understand? You're the other man."

"No! You're married to me!" Elizan shrieked, lunging forward in a frenzy, his nails clawing at the air as if trying to grasp something intangible. "Whoever he is—He's the other man!"

MALLEUS DRACONIA

"Whoever he is—He's the other man!"

Lilia raised an eyebrow with a chuckle, his form reclined against a fogged-up window of the room. The weather was gloomy and stormy, the skies tinted green outside, casting an eerie glow over the scene. The window pane, streaked with raindrops and mist, blurred the view of the turbulent skies beyond. Lilia hummed a tune under his breath, a calm figure amidst the brewing storm.

With a sidelong glance, his eyes locked onto Malleus, whose entire figure shook with a barely contained wrath that threatened to engulf the very air around him. The young prince's chest heaved in violent, choked breaths as smoke wisped from his mouth and nose—tendrils of flames flickering amidst the swirling dust and ash.

A deafening crack tore through the air as a vivid surge of green emerald lightning erupted from the heavens, descending upon the roof of the venue with explosive force. The blast of energy painted the sky with a blinding flash of green as it crashed into the building, sending broken glass and wood raining down upon the venue.

Cursing, Elizan moved you both aside, a large chunk of debris hurtling past, narrowly missing your startled form. As more debris crashed down, he shielded you with an outstretched arm, a shimmering barrier briefly forming to deflect a particularly large piece of wood.

"Spectral pest," Malleus seethed, his eyes aglow with an eerie green hue as his nails elongated into sharp claws. With a click of his tongue, he raised his hands, summoning thorns that spiraled towards Elizan, ensnaring the ghost in their sharp embrace. Simultaneously, from the floorboards below, vines emerged like serpents, their tendrils gently but firmly pulling you away from Elizan's protective embrace and guiding you into the safety of Malleus's arms.

"How—?! Ngh!" Elizan writhed against the thorny vines. The prickly tendrils twisted around him like serpents, their sharp points digging into his ghostly flesh.

Malleus paid no mind to the struggling spirit, keeping his gaze fixed on you as he checked for any signs of harm. His expression softened with relief upon finding you unscathed, albeit a bit dusty.

"Beloved," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm amidst the lingering chaos. His gloved hand moved delicately, sweeping away the clinging dust from your shoulders and arms. Pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingered there briefly, conveying a warmth that contrasted starkly with the raw power he had displayed moments ago.

"Are you alright?"

Blinking up at him with wide eyes and frazzled hair shooting up in every direction, you nodded dumbly. Turning away from him, you nearly gasped aloud to see the room in shambles, debris scattered everywhere, and the eerie green glow of energy still lingering in the air. The ghostly residents were in a state of panic, their translucent forms flickering as they moved frantically.

"My dorm," you whimpered, your mind racing as you calculated the cost of the damage.

With a chuckle, Malleus adjusted his grip on you, his muscles flexing as he gently set you down. Your legs felt shaky as you tried to steady yourself.

"I will handle the cost of repair, my dearest," Malleus assured you, bending down to your height, his voice dropping to a whisper. Green eyes bore into yours, strands of his midnight hair falling over his face. "You will not need to worry about such things once we are formally betrothed."

You froze, your face suddenly warming and burning.

"What?!"

Malleus reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek, claws dragging across your supple cheeks. "Yes, my dear," he murmured, chest rumbling as his lips curved into a sharp smile. "You heard me correctly."

"I… I don't know what to say," you whispered, feeling dizzy with emotion.

"Will you consider it?" he asked softly, a faint hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Please?"

Caught in the depth of his gaze, you felt your resolve melting away. "I-I guess?" you breathed, your voice trembling. "I'll… consider it."

A smug smile spread across his face, and he tenderly pressed his lips against yours. "That's all I ask, my dearest."

After ensuring you were alright one last time, Malleus redirected his focus to Elizan. With a flick of his wrist, the thorns under his control tightened around the ghost. Elizan shrieked and thrashed about, his translucent form writhing in pain as the thorns dug deeper.

"Do try to exercise some restraint, my boy," Lilia drawled, tapping his sharp fingers idly against his crossed arms. "We do not want Ramshackle to be bathed in blood. It would be very unsanitary."

not too sure if i am continuing but feel free to suggest some peepl bookies

[spadecentral]

💍 Scaring Off All The Hoes | Deuce Spade x Reader

>> requested: no >> a/n: this was based off a wind breaker (satoru nii) post i read but i cant find it FOUND IT!!

>> masterlist: here!! >> summary: ace helps deuce realize the truth >> reader prns: they/them >> warning(s): referred to as [Name]

Deuce is not usually the guy with much interest in relationships. He's focused more on schoolwork and trying not to goof off with his friends (even though he tends to get roped in anyway).

He does however, seem to shy away from looking at people in relationships, and even joins in on the fake gagging that Ace does.

That is, until Ace says, "Dude isn't that what you and [Name] do."

"What?"

"Yeah you're basically a couple right?" Ace raises an eyebrow. "I coulda sworn you guys were dating or something."

Deuce is not aware of his feelings for you until that moment, and it hits him like a ton of bricks.

"Oh."

"Oh shit wait man did you not.. are y'all not dating?"

"Obviously not?!!" Deuce almost screeches back.

"How was I supposed to know?" Ace frowns, matching his friend's energy. "You two are fucking attached at the hip."

"We aren't!"

"You are I swear. I had someone come up to me and ask if you and [Name] were dating because they wanted to confess and I said yes because I thought it was true!"

"Why would you say that?!" Deuce groans.

"Maybe stop acting like that and I won't??"

In the distance, you spot the two of them sitting at the picnic table and run up to them. As you sit down next to Deuce as per usual, Ace sticks out his arms.

"See?!!" Ace yells.

"I don't!"

You can tell that you've interrupted an important conversation.

>> deuce taglist: @tulipluvlettr | @strawberry-hyacinth | @oseathepebble | @wisteriainslumber

@villaim | @pastelmage | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie | @divinesapph

@ze-maki-nin | @ezr4n | @l1vyatan | @savanaclaw1996 | @enigmatic-pers

@queerlordsimon | @kyraxiyn | @rayisalive | @monochromepalette

[spadecentral]

🫂 Comfort My Soul | Savanaclaw

>> requested: yes, by an anon >> a/n: this was an adorable ask thank you anonnie <3

>> masterlist: here!! >> summary: how they like to be comforted >> reader prns: not specified >> warning(s): none

Leona Kingscholar is prone to toughing it out by himself. He's learned from his childhood that everyone despises him, even the people designated to take care of him.

He's not open to touch when he's feeling unwell. Not yet, at least. But if you sit in a room with him in silence, he'll truly appreciate it.

Ruggie Bucchi is best comforted when he bundles himself up. If you bundle yourself up with him, he'll feel better even faster.

Sitting together in a cocoon of blankets and laying on pillows, he's distracted easily from whatever made him feel bad. Of course, it might come with the expense of being tickled, but who really counts that as an expense anymore?

Jack Howl just asks for a simple hug when he's sad. Burying his head in either the crook of your neck or your hair, he'll soothe himself over time.

He just wishes for some time alone with you and to not be the strong man he projects himself as, but instead to be open and vulnerable with you. He wants to be coddled and for you to run your fingers through his hair.

>> twst taglist: @tulipluvlettr | @strawberry-hyacinth | @oseathepebble | @wisteriainslumber | @villaim

@pastelmage | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie | @divinesapph | @ze-maki-nin

@ezr4n | @l1vyatan | @savanaclaw1996 | @enigmatic-pers | @queerlordsimon

@kyraxiyn | @rayisalive | @ravenlking | @oheyfox | @ruggiethethuggie

[siphoklansan]

Leona wearing a kiss-the-cook apron that I made last year🍳

[ceruleancattail]

doesn't seem like anyone has dropped them yet, so here's what I think heartslabyul android version would be like! (and yes this is still mechanic mc)

tw (mention of abuse in deuce bit/not proofread)

for ace, his model is famously known to be seen in gambling sites along with jack and octavinelle models. this model is very fun to be around, made carefully to mimic what young man are like. he's rowdy, snarky, strangely witty and whimsy. his existence is meant to grab as much attention on him, and heartslabyul models are not suitable for anything that requires them to stay still. maybe that's why he's in their hands now, the side of his originally charming face badly damaged. blunt force, either a really bloody fistfight or something metal. there's no way a human punch could do this much damage on these specially crafted robots without weapons. there's even several bullet holes around his chest, the oily substance meant to mimic blood smudged on several part of his body....

deuce and ace model is a popular choice for parents who are interested in having children. while ace might be for those who are more experienced with teenagers, deuce is compatible with early parents who wants to play safe. he's gentle, very hardworking, a people pleaser and easily excitable. his model definitely received a lot of positive reviews, he's everything anyone could ask for a child, a perfect representation of heartslabyul line. persistence and patience.

so why's the one on her table are in this state? what caused this perfect robot boy with 5 star review to ends up in their hands, his skin melted by fire. what kind of inhuman strength needed to nearly pulled his hair off his scalp, or that suspicious scratches they spotted in that certain area? each hit they took on their stomach with the screwdriver, the darker their face got....

it's uncommon nowadays to see a trey model in eateries location. this ai software is oftentimes promoted alongside cater, even though cater is more for mobile softwares. his comforting voice is sought after by tired overworked young ladies who would instantly perks up over his awkward attempt at lifting up moods, plus his suggestions for foods and dietary is a nice touch for his model's promotional lines (brother or boyfriend? why not both!). but honestly? maybe this certain one isn't exactly what he's supposed to perform. the snide remarks he made that quickly got brushed off with strange bleep before his preset lines return? the long silent pause, the 2d model unmoving despite worried fingers tapping on the screen? the electric equipment in the store that sometimes got turned on by itself whenever his service went unaccessible? the coffee might taste good, but it's still concerning, isn't it?

"I don't know, maybe your trey is tired of your dry ass chiffon cake. by the way, do you believe in ghosts?"

cater ai is certainly trending nowadays as another one of those pocket boyfriend thing on online store, apparently more well known among university students. beware though, he's not for free! just through a single purchase, you can have your own cay-kun cheering you up as you went through another day of bland colourless life, as bland as mayo without sandwich, as tasteless as soft drinks without it's additional flavour, as lonely as him without you in his arms maybe...? ha, gotcha! I caught you smiling, baby! you should smile more, you're getting wrinkles from all that frowning!

keep playing the game. tap on the conversation options, dress him up in various attires, unlock more new lines through events as he continues to make you smile! hmm? what's that? the phone is making strange popup notifications? there's clicking sounds that sounds like nails tapping? what could you possibly mean, I'm just a game character you silly! I can't do anything like that, look! all I can do is wave....

out of all people they've work with, this is certainly the first time an android itself came to them. this red haired robot boy confidently maintained eyesight with them, posture straight as he requested for an assistance regarding his programing. he believes his default system is faulty in a way as he explained in full detail of his most recent input on recent weeks. about how he'd look at certain foods and question about its taste, as in questioning it's taste beyond what's already programed for his tongue. or dipping his arm long enough in the bathtub to hear his "mother" screeched as she yanked him away. or when he'd be around other android and they would give him this look that... doesn't seem like a look. it's like they are just staring, an eye of nothingness with flickering lights. as if he know of their lack of sentience.

maybe he did, or on his way of connecting it.

this is dangerous.

INSANE INSANE INSANE

PAU I AM SO IN LOVE WITH ALL OF THESE HEADCANONS WHAT THE HECK???? INCREDIBLE. THE LORE!!!! THE LOREEEEEE WE LOVE THAT AHHHHHHH-

I actually have nothing to add, this is a masterpiece oh my goodness🫶🫶

[siphoklansan]

HEYHEY SIPPY!!! For the ask game, I hope you don't mind me asking for... kind of a lot because I'm really curious jskdkfs but you can cut some out if want to, dw!

🌹♥️♠️⚗️📚🏆 for Siphok and 🌟🤖 for Pin-cha?

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS ᝰ.ᐟ

sippy and riddle are friends! both of them have one thing in common: a stickler for rules. the only difference is that sippy doesn’t follow crazy rules (ex. heartslabyul’s strange traditions!)

fun fact: they both hated each other before the end of book 1 because:

⤷ sippy likes to voice out her opinions, so she gets into a yelling match from time to time with riddle when she disagrees with his behavior. ( “IT’S JUST A TART, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!” 💀 /j but yeah something like that-)

⤷ riddle hates how she doesn’t give two shits about his rule. ( “Nuh-uh.” “What do you mean “Nuh-Uh” ?!?”) and she also defends adeuce when they break the rules, much to their surprise.

at the end of book 1 they both had a truce and became some sort of buddies to each other! they both share an interest in small critters <3

ACE TRAPPOLA & DEUCE SPADE ᝰ.ᐟ

besties for life (adeuce will not admit it) they always go everywhere with each other and grim!

sippy is #1 deuce defender because she kins him😭 so ace rarely wins and argument when she’s around. sippy tutors deuce for history class (more on this later!) and deuce returns the favor by helping her fix things around ramshackle <3

like deuce, sippy bickers a lot with ace but it’s all fun and games. she’s like a tired mom with him (begrudgingly watches his basketball matches because ace insists on it so much, secretly doesn’t mind and enjoys it lmao-). I lowkey see ace as a therapist friend for some reason since he’s usually the voice of reason so she goes to him for advice sometimes! Only for certain occasions though cuz we know how ace is💀 /hj

DIVUS CREWEL ᝰ.ᐟ

#1 dad for sippy. they both go on shopping sprees together (crewel insists on it, because sippy wears the same outfit everyday and it irks him 💀). sippy isn’t the best at potions class so he tutors her privately at times!

crewel designs outfits for sippy sometimes! in the ghost bride event, her suit was tailored to her by crewel.

a short angst scenario for them would be sippy feels bad to see him as a dad because she doesn’t know if crewel sees her as a daughter but he actually feels the same😔.

other than that, sippy got a little more strict because she picked up some habits from crewel (much to adeuce’s dismay😭).

MOZUS TREIN (doesn’t look like him, i know) ᝰ.ᐟ

that one proud grand-uncle (?) TM /j

sippy is likes history classes, so it’s like a breath of fresh air for him in class (“Finally, someone who does not snore every 2 minutes.” /j)

not much to comment on them, but one thing trein dislikes about sippy is that she covers for students who are slacking off in class ( ex. covering grim’s sleeping form with a book) and he’s just like -_- but trein counters that by deducting both her and the other student (who’s mostly grim) participation points💀

ASHTON VARGAS ᝰ.ᐟ

that one crazy and upbeat uncle at family gatherings TM 💀 /j

while sippy is good in athletics, she doesn’t do very well in flying due to a small fear of heights.

⤷ “THE BROOM IS TOO THIN IT CAN’T CARRY MY FATASS!” “LANGUAGE! But no, it *can* hold your weight.”

sippy dreads vargas’s class because he pushes her more than anyone else.

⤷ “lift some more weights! your arms are like noodles!” vargas says, as he dumps some more shit into her arms-

KALIM AL ASIM ᝰ.ᐟ

pin-cha and kalim is like the worst nightmare for jamil, who’s already acting like a single mom who works two jobs who loves her kids and never stops-

yes, they go on carpet rides together🥺💓 pin-cha reminds kalim of one of his siblings back at home so they hit it off pretty well!

jamil is a little weirded out how well pin-cha is good at household chores but is also secretly relieved (and concerned) how pin-cha is babysitting kalim and not the other way around /hj

CHEKA KINGSCHOLAR ᝰ.ᐟ (NOT A SHIP ART!!)

RRAAAGHSGSHHSHGSHSG FINALLY SOMEONE MENTIONS CHEKAAAAA!! THEY’RE BESTFRIENDS, YOUR HONOR😭✨

cue leona thanking the gods for giving cheka someone to play with so he can finally nap in peace LMAO

cheka drags pin-cha away from his cleaning duties in rsa! the headmage of rsa adores them both (happy grandpa noises) <3

cheka enjoys when pin-cha shows his unique magic, summoning little spirits around to play with them. it’s like having extra friends to play!

yes, they both call leona “unca”💀 leona had to call sippy over to help him babysit them both (an excuse to be with her I MEAN WHAAATTT⁉️ I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING-)

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK, TARU!!💖💖 SO SORRY FOR THE LATE AND VERY LONG REPLY😭🙏 I had a lot of fun with this ask though I can’t find the link to the OG post anymore :((

I swear this whole post looks like some character who is liked by everybody but I promise you it’s not the case😭 she just has a good impression on the professors AHUSHSUGSYSI BUT ANYWAY I’ll list some characters who doesn’t like sippy (but i’ll leave the reasoning out for now👀)

⤷ ruggie

⤷ sebek

⤷ idia

⤷ jamil (kinda like a hate-neutral relationship?)

With that said, thank you again for the ask!!🥺💖🫶🫶

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: people say suffering is what it means to be a shroud. you could not think more different.

WARNINGS: mentions of blood & self mutilation.

COMMENTS: PHEW THIS ONE WAS A DOOZY!!! idia stop being my muse pls 🙏🙏 i keep writing 2k - 3k word fics in one sitting because of you

“Don’t you wish the world treated him better?”

You blink, entranced by the swirls of green. The voice beckons you closer.

How was that door open...? It should have been closed, right...?

“Don’t you wish you three could live up on the surface, like everyone else?”

More voices have joined.

“Don’t you want that for him and his brother?”

It sounds beautiful, like a symphony.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud.”

You step closer, muscles relaxing as you slip under their spell. The voices are right. They deserved better. They should have been able to live where they pleased, to escape this island and their fate.

The voices giggle—they know they’re right.

They’ve reached you.

Black consumes your vision, blocking out the glowing green. You shut your eyes. Your world grows darker. There's a seizing in your chest and a fluttering in your heart as something pours into your body, staining you.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud.”

“Set us free, and we’ll set all of you free.”

—

The hallways are blaring red, but all Idia sees is the floor swimming in his vision. Ortho is by his side as he punches access code after access code into the door panels, running like he’s never run before. He has a stitch in his side but he keeps going, your face flashing in his mind.

He lost Ortho once. He’s not losing someone again.

It’s like the stairs last forever, winding deeper and deeper into the Earth. Idia doesn’t stop running once, even though he feels like he’s going to fall over and throw up. He’s almost one-hundred percent certain Ortho has carried him at some point but his mind is too messy and his vision is too muddled to care.

Time seems to slow as he reaches the bottom. He raises his head as his ears ring, and the second he lays eyes on you it’s like his vision is clear again. Ink pours out of you and the black markings on your face are all too familiar. Blue fire spits out from behind you and your shrieks are heartbreaking, like you’re wailing for something you want so badly but could never have. Wings sprout from your back, broken and crooked, feathers twisted and clumped. Your hands are worn and bloody from stretching at the walls, and that’s when Idia realizes—

You want to be free.

Guilt crashes over him and it's a critical hit. Of course. He should have been sure this is what you wanted. He should have known you’d get sick of life here, even though you said you loved him time and time again, even though you held him on all those nights that he couldn’t sleep because the thoughts were too much, even though you bonded with Ortho and stepped back for him, letting him set boundaries even though that meant not doing things you wanted to do, like holding his hand or kissing his forehead or playing with his hair.

He should have known this wasn’t the life you wanted.

The ring on his finger feels like nothing more than a heavy stone now.

—

It took years for Idia to open up to you about his family situation. In fact, he seemed to be braced for the possibility that you’d leave him in a heartbeat after hearing it. Your heart ached for him when he explained his past and his inevitable future in a soft, low voice, rushing through the whole thing as if it was the scariest thing he’s ever done.

You placed your hand on his knee once he stopped, letting his words trail off into the night.

“I understand you.” you’d said, looking him straight in the eyes. They seemed to glow in the darkness of his room, flickering like a fire about to be put out.

Idia curled in on himself that night, dragging a clump of his hair over his shoulder and twisting it into knots. You’d reached over and gently grabbed his hands, stopping him from tangling his precious hair. You’d gently smoothed out the fiery strands before kneeling in front of him, looking up at him as if paying him reverence.

“I want to stay with you.” you’d said softly, cradling his shaking, fragile hands in yours.

In that moment, it felt like his very heart was beating between your intertwined hands.

Soft sniffles filled the room that night, and you kissed each tear away. More kept coming, more and more and more, his eyes blotchy and red as he tried to keep quiet. You kept quiet too, whispering how much you cared about him and how if he would let you, you’d stay with him forever because you loved him and he deserved someone by his side. You kissed each tear well into the night, fighting his overwhelming sorrow with your love.

—

Your memories are patchy. It’s like you don’t remember who you are, or where you are. In the dark expanse of your mind, you remember two things.

Idia Shroud and Ortho Shroud.

Your throat feels heavy as your heart starts to palpate—what happened? Where is the green glow? Where are all the comforting voices that whispered your new future to you?

Where were the people you were fighting for?

“Vitals stable.” a faraway voice calls, a sharp clatter piercing through your quiet, inky haze, “Commencing full body scan for blot.”

Blot...

Your eyelids pry themselves open. All the energy has been sapped from your body, your limbs heavy and useless. The strings holding them up have been cut, and it's scary that you can’t remember how you were strung up in the first place.

“Mx, we ask that you please stay still.” the man above you is in a white coat, his hands holding a clipboard and a pen.

You nod passively. Something about him seems familiar enough.

His voice drones on statistics about your well being as your eyes slip shut again, and arms of sludge reach out from your mind and pull you back under the ink, into a deep sleep.

—

Idia is chewing on his fingernails again.

He wishes you were here to scold him for it and paint a new coat over them so he wouldn’t chew on them anymore, being too sentimental to mess up your hard work and too repulsed by the taste, even though he would only ever tell you the latter and—

You were still asleep.

Your vitals are stable, You are fine.

You are fine but there are still black scars all over your body.

Your vitals are stable but the marks will stay there forever.

You almost died and it’s his fault.

You want freedom and he took that away when he said “I do.”

He kissed you and he sucked the soul right out of your body, keeping it clutched in his hands because he’s selfish and stupid and why in the world did you even fall in love with him in the first place?

He has nothing to offer you.

Nothing but this.

Suffering and loneliness and contempt and headaches and cold nights and machines that fill your whole day, leaving no room for the whimsical leisure you enjoyed before. There are no more board games, no more trips to the school store, no more fresh air and nighttime walks, no more watching movies and eating gummy worms, no more talking to anyone who isn’t him.

The ring on his finger burns.

—

You don’t know how long it's been since you went to sleep.

You wake up to a room with dark walls and metallic shelves above your head. The bed (cot?) is firm underneath your body, which is adorned by a gray uniform. There’s a desk right across from you with a tablet and a chair. You can’t see anything it’s hooked up to. The one constant among all of these things seems to be the triangular details, criss-crossing and curving and connecting with each other.

They make your vision spin, so you look away.

You stay in bed.

For some reason your face and neck sting, as does your back. You trace the parts of your face that burn, finding that the areas are almost symmetrical on both sides.

What happened?

“...Idia?” you whisper, your left hand resting over your smoothly beating heart.

The door opens.

Your heart lurches into your throat when you see a dark uniform, fiery blue hair that swings well past his elbows, and eyes that are sunken in. His skin is as pale as ever, his lips chapped and bitten by worry, his nails stubbed and torn, but—

He came.

But it’s him.

He came when you called.

“...Idia—!” you gasp, choking on your words as you lurch forward and cough, black ink splattering all over your gray shirt.

“Easy!” he yelps, rushing to your side. You feel his cold hand press against your back and you lean into the touch, starved for it.

“What happened?” you ask between smaller coughs, following his hand and he lays you back down.

Idia bites his lip. He does not answer.

Instead, he turns his back to you and moves over to the desk grabbing the tablet. He still doesn’t look at you as he taps a few bottoms. He gnaws on his lower lip before twisting the chair to face you and sitting down.

“How much do you remember?” he counters your question with another question, eyes heavier than usual.

“I remember green.” you whisper, the intriguing whispers poking into the corners of your mind again, “I remember voices...they said sweet things to me.”

Idia winces as if that’s the last thing he wants to hear.

“You overblotted.” he says, so blunt it surprises both of you, “You went...deeper than you should have, and you overblotted.”

You touch your face. The burning sensation wiggles as if it’s been recognized, and is pleased. It’s like there's something under your skin, something alive and yearning,that was waiting for him to say it.

“Oh.” you whisper, and in turn, the voices begin to beckon you again.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud. Don’t you wish you three could live up on the surface, like everyone else? It’s not fair, is it? He deserves better. His brother deserves better. You all do. We can help you, we can make that happen, you just have to help us—”

“They were phantoms.” you breathe, tracing the lines on your face over and over and over and over and over—

You don't notice when he gets up and reaches for you. Idia grabs your hand when it looks like you’re pressing too hard, your nails digging into your skin. You stop immediately, looking up at him with glossy eyes and trembling lips.

“Idia...is this what it means to be a Shroud?” you ask, forming each word carefully.

The phantoms said as much.

But he says nothing.

“I don’t blame you if you decided this isn’t what you want, you know.” he says, tone flat and disinterested, like you’re someone he doesn’t even know.

“What do you mean?”

“Your phantom looked like it wanted to be free.” he says, tablet still in his hand.

He pulls up the footage of your rage and shows it to you—your crooked, clumped wings and your bloody, inky hands and your screams as you cry for freedom, freedom—

He misunderstands.

“Not for me!” you seize his wrist, squeezing it so hard you fear it’ll break but this important, “For you! Freedom for you! It’s always you and it always will be you! I wanted you to be free and Ortho to be free. I wanted all of us to be free—!”

You start coughing again, this time even harder. Ink splatters on your bed and this time Idia is on you, he’s truly with you, cradling you against his chest as the ink stains his uniform as well. It pours out of you like a dead, polluted river, and yet in a twisted way it’s a symbol of how much you care.

You vaguely feel his nose pressing against your head in the haze, whispering what sounds like swears and pleads but none of it reaches your ears over the sound of your coughing. By the time you’re done, both of you are thoroughly painted with the remnants of blot.

The voices are gone.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” he whispers it into your head like it's a confession, meant for your ears and your ears only, “I thought you...wanted to leave here. Leave me.”

His arms are around you like a vice grip.

You’re grateful you’re alive to see him be selfish.

“Idia...my love.” you say, equally as soft, “How many times do I have to tell you that I want to be with you?”

“It’s hard to believe!” he protests, voice cracking.

He pulls away from you, just enough to look over your face. His eyes are watery and he’s so vulnerable—you really scared him. His thumb traces down the parts of your face that burned, the parts of your face you know will be scarred for life now.

“Good thing I’m still here then.” you smile weakly, cupping his face, “I’ll remind you every single day.”

His ring no longer burns.

His left hand rests over your left, and your rings clink together as they connect.

You’re okay. You still want him. You’re alive.

“You’re crazy.” Idia groans, stepping forward and falling into your arms, “You are absolutely crazy. Any normal person would be running for their life right now, calling me a freak and hyperventilating. A normal person would never want to come back—”

His slumps over you like a big cat, arms encircling you in warmth once again. It’s his way of hiding his expression when he’s getting a bit too into his feelings—you know this by now.

“Goodness. It’s a good thing I’m madly in love with you then.” you laugh, hands splayed out on his shoulder blades as he hugs you again, “You know what they say about love making you do crazy things.”

“Please don’t ever do that again—oh Great Seven.” he squeezes you even tighter and you let him, putty in his hands.

“I’m not planning on it. I promise.”  you reassure him, “I don't want to leave you—”

“It’s not about leaving me, you could have died!” he protests, cradling the back of your head, “I’d be fine if you just left! If you were somewhere else...somewhere safe!”

“You would not be okay with that. Don’t pretend to be.” you chastise him quietly, and you know you’ve won when he goes quiet, “You want to keep me here, and you want me to stay. I want the same thing. You don’t have to pretend I’m a sacrifice that can be made. I didn’t fall in love with you because you’re noble or a goody-goody.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Then—

“I love you so much.” he mumbles.

It’s a rare confession, one that has never lost his sweetness even after years together.

Now this, this is what it means to be a Shroud.

It means staying with each other no matter what.

It couldn't be farther from loneliness.

“I love you too.” you murmur back, and his thumbs trace your blot scars as he presses a single, barely noticeable kiss to your forehead.

[ceruleancattail]

Lilia tenderly dying your hair for you.

He’s so gentle with your hair, carefully combing strands of it out. Brushing and sectioning it as carefully as he can, chatting with you as he does so. He clips parts of your hair with little cute hair clips he’s picked up from his travels. One of his favourite is a little pink bat, which he places on your hair with especially great care.

Doesn’t it look just like him? You can keep it if you want to. So there’s a little piece of him following wherever you go, y’know?

He spread the dye onto your scalp slowly, gloved fingers gently blending the dye into your hair. Lilia talks aimlessly while he does this. Random pieces of gossip he’s heard throughout the halls of Night Raven College, some childhood stories of his three boys, and so on.

While he’s talking, his fingers are massaging your scalp slowly, tenderly. Lilia’s experienced with dyeing hair, so you can just sit back and relax, hm? While he’s working the dye into your hair, Lilia tosses a few remarks your way.

This colour fits you so well… maybe he’ll dye his hair again just to match you. Wouldn’t that be cute? Like those matching couple charms that seem to be all the rage nowadays. Or would you like to go pink for a change? It’ll be rather charming on you.

Maybe the same shade of pink as he has? Oh, he jests…. It was simply a joke…. Unless you’re interested? In that case, Lilia wouldn’t mind helping you dye your hair again!

It’s a rather relaxing, working on your hair. Just simply sitting beside you, talking about whatever… Lilia does truly enjoy your company, especially when it’s just the two of you.

You two should do this more often, hm?

[siphoklansan]

Siphok’s Swimwear(?)🌺

Slight spoilers for Twisted Wonderland Stitch event!

design notes ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ྀི₊ ˚. ⊹

in the event, Ace commented on how Yuu and Grim’s outfits match each other- so I had to give Sippy a red jacket(?) to match with Grim!💕

the whole inspo on her swimwear (and sunglasses as well) revolves around the artist; Sabrina Carpenter.

the yellow flower accessory in her hair is the (white) Plumeria flower! It grows everywhere back at my previous house and I think it’d be cute as a hair accessory. the real flowers have this sticky sap, so sometimes it’s a bit annoying to collect them HUSHXJJSJYXN

originally, I made a smiley and cheery expression for her, but it looked a little off so I decided to give a cool and calm vibe ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

other… ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ྀི₊ ˚. ⊹

i’m loving the event so far and I can’t wait for the next part!

yes, this is floydhok content😔 i had to.

floyd looks so sketchy with how i drew his glasses BAUHSHBAHUSH we love our little sketchy car dealer-

[ceruleancattail]

Finding a Vil android in the trash and going “what a waste of a pretty face”.

You’ve never been one to resist beauty.

So when you saw that slender face amidst all the trash of the junkyard, you couldn’t help but reach out towards it. Gently prising that metallic face out of the heap of trash, before sticking your hands into deeper into the pile in order to find the rest of this gorgeous piece of art.

Once you’ve salvaged all you could, you lung him back rather inelegantly to your workshop. Hooking him up with some electricity, and slowly get to work. Working through his circuits, carefully debugging some oddities in his system. Vil’s vaguely awake for most of these parts.

He can’t remember much, considering how he’s just been rebooted by you. It felt like coming out of a deep, dreamless sleep, where there was nothing but black for as far as he could see.

Until his artificial pupils blinked and whirled to life, staring at the person standing before him. The same person whose gentle hands dip into his mechanical chest, touching his circuits almost tenderly.

He could hear you muttering softly as well. Talking to him as you worked. Apologising when something sparkled and spluttered out of nowhere, talking about your day… piecing Vil back together slowly.

Slowly, Vil regained his functions under your careful (occasionally careless) care. His eyes could blink now, and his lips could move. Vil answers some of your questions now. There’s something enjoyable about having intellectually stimulating conversations with someone quite unlike you. Mankind to Machine. From heart to heart.

Vil’s rather fond of you, truly. After he’s relatively fixed, he still lounges around your workshop, arranging tools in aesthetically pleasing ways. Vil tends to sit beside you as you work on your latest projects, offering his own input into your designs. Practicality is important, yes, but elegance is much more pleasing to the eye, don’t you think?

Sometimes his hands brush against yours on the table, and Vil has to pause for a moment. Just to process the sudden rush of warmth that shot through his artificial core. How odd. Surely there isn’t anything wrong with his system now… are these what the humans call feelings?

Not a terribly unpleasant feeling. In fact, Vil finds himself carving these “emotions”. There’s just something special about you, he supposes. What he feels with you… it’s real. What he feels about you… that’s real as well.

There’s just something fascinating about having something as normal as daily life take on a whole new meaning just because of another individual. Vil hopes he’ll be able to feel more of this calming warmth.

You’ll assist him, wouldn’t you?

Vil’s shows his affection through the little things. Constantly helping you pin or tie your hair up, gently dabbing the sweat off your brow as you work. He forces you to take breaks as well. You cannot possibly think that you would do good work sleep-deprived and exhausted, hm?

Vil’s hands find their way onto your shoulders, kneading into them. Pressing into the knots in your back, massaging you with all the skill of an experienced masseuse.

Even before you go to bed, he sits you down for an entire skin-care session. Slowly applying various lotions onto your skin, tapping them into your face softly. For the briefest of moments, you feel his hands cup your cheeks softly, metallic fingers cradling your face within his hands, before the sensation is gone. As if it never happened in the first place.

Please hold his hands in yours, tell him that it’s all right for him to touch you. For him to want you. It’s Vil, after all.

You’ve never been able to say no to a pretty face, especially his.

[kalims]

⭒ㅤwith a disney princess

premise. surely there's been a mistake, cause there's no way someone out of place like you ended up at nrc, right? (spoiler alert: months later and they will fight whoever might drag you to rsa)

featuring. dorm leaders (from diasomnia to heartslabyul)

content. at best this might imply a female reader, given they're based of a 'princess' but I tried to take the gender vague and focused mainly on the qualities of them! mc has hair in the rapunzel part lol

note. no beta we die lol. I worked on this by group so i honestly don't remember if I accidentally gendered mc. I absolutely love idias part lmaoooo

malleus (aurora)

ooh intimidating x soft couple.

you look way out of place in somewhere like nrc of all places, given your mother is the infamous sleeping beauty (infamous, in the college’s standards that is.) your kindness is easily taken advantage of, even if you do realize it there is always forgiveness spared for the undeserving.

said kindness was extended to the quiet malleus.

surprise no surprise. he’s impeccably drawn to the sparkling aura you seem to exclude. malleus feels as though there are traces of familiar magic always hovering around you, like its embowed into your very being. a blessing would be a better word for it.

well, he’s just curious but if he were to ever ask he’d be met with the confirmation that you were, indeed blessed by the same three fairies your mother was blessed by (minus the curse… ironically he’s quite similar to the same lady that your mother loved and looked up to.)

he’s just fascinated. something as glittery as you, shiny like gold would’ve been whisked away to his nice tower, homey. he’d tell you. almost as if making its image seem heavenly. (lowkey highkey getting your consent for kidnapping)

animals always seem to flock around you everywhere you go, they sneak around to reach you. in your dorm, during lunch, even in class. there’s either a bird on your shoulder or a squirrel making itself comfortable atop your head. its a curious sight, critters don’t really like him much.

in short they run away, humans or animals alike are both afraid of his presence it seems.

so he’s incredibly still when you nudge an adorably round bird in his palm, peering at it with cautious eyes. tense as a statue lest it flies away.

cue staring contest.

he felt incredibly accomplished that day, and immersed him in the role of making this creature like him. leaving seeds, offering it the most sought off food from the valley, literally conjuring a small home for it. everything.

HE’S SO HAPPY.

malleus often asks of you to sing, perhaps its the blessing talking but its the most unique form of sound he’d ever heard in his life, the more he sings the more he wants to imbue his very being with the loveliness of your song.

always following you around like a lost puppy (lizard?) any evil that actually wants to take advantage of your unfortunate naive desire for peace and kindness is scared away. although malleus would never want your interactions to be reduced entirely because of him, he only starts looking like a demon one he figures out their motive is less than fitting for you.

“yeah, the ingredients were to complicated for me to remember—”

“oh! perhaps i can help you?”

spots the demon behind you (just your lovely giant staring them to their grave.)

“you know what i actually got it— sorry for wasting your time.” you watch them, confused as they dip.

you look to him, as though to ask what just happened but he merely casts you an oblivious glance and shrugs.

favorite past time → coddling you in his dragon form.

he was doubtful whether he should pull through in actually showing it to you, since you were already such an angel towards him. would it be a stretch if he let a selfish desire get in the way? perhaps you’d get scared if you see how large he is there—or if he’s—

idia (rapunzel)

okay that amazed smile on you was totally worth it.

wow your hair is fire.

he should have never made a comment about it in the first place because now you’re completely confused about his reference, were you living in like… in isolation? a cave? you’re a little less worse than the scarabia’s dorm leader when it comes to being oblivious.

just two idiots miscommunicating, he atleast is trying to make an effort to explain that he doesn’t mean it literally but his wording is so bad that you get absolutely nothing from what he is trying to infer.

okay your hair though.

“why is that person stuck in that square!?”

good thing ortho was near cause you almost charged towards a television and judging by the, pan!? in your grip you definitely would have smashed the screen trying to be righteous and rescue the character.

okay then. 1. don’t let you near electronics, specifically when its playing something.

you are a literal danger to his society. shivers

you’re always asking something like “what are those glowing balls on the ceiling?” those are lights… “why is that thing speaking?!” that’s a speaker… “why is it on fire?” oh that’s his hair, he doesn’t really know either it was just like that.

it does feel a little nice to get asked like that and he’d know the answer (its literally the most common knowledge ever but whtv)

EPIC! idia is now trying to figure out how resistant your hair is. its literally like, the most OP shield there is!

at first he had some reservations. like, used a knife once and was flabbergasted when it came back in half. your hair didn’t even move an inch. then he got motivated and tried a sharper sword, longer, and larger of course. he let ortho handle it cause he probably would have stabbed himself.

“wtf.”

flinches cause the half of the sharp end came completely off and stabbed right beside his head onto the wall.

what are the limits of it?! had some doubts before using one of the tech he came up with, it could literally cut through a diamond and he isn’t sure if its entirely safe but you’re all for it cause you were always curious whether your hair could even get cut in the first place.

anyway you’re way too happy to be near a lazer that could obliterate you and its kinda infecting him. yikes.

less than happy cause the lazer literally got reflected by your hair and hit itself so it’s just gone.

on the bright side he can use you as a scapegoat (in a good way)

alright. 2. don’t enrage you unless he wants to experience getting hit by a pan really hard.

wow. he felt that for days.

maybe its the hit or he’s just feeling a little woozy whenever you’re around.

definitely the pan.

vil (mulan)

bold x shy couple

pretty x pretty defender

he’s used to people heeding his suggestions but damn, are you a stubborn one.

not only have you not listened to his propositions for becoming a more refined person (cause the way you held yourself was too.. much for him to ignore, and it bothered him for a long time until he decided to help you.) but he can respect you, he supposes. not a lot of people can stay true to themselves.

it seems like epel, the boy himself has taking a liking to you. no wonder he’s been becoming more rebellious lately.

vil would never stoop so low to purposely direct someone advice that would change their entire self, decimate their unique traits. but all he told you was out of the goodness of his heart, if you’d be less clumsy of your ways your reputation would be better for the long run.

not being respected amongst nrc is never a good thing.

still, you’re still headstrong. never too overconfident, nor cocky. just a humble soul, that’s rare so he tends to stick by you if he ever wanted an honest opinion cause people just tell him what he wants to nowadays. vil never enjoyed the biased remarks.

more often than not he enjoys making your already pretty face, prettier than it is.

finds out you’re no bark and all bite, he never even knew you could take down someone who has an advantage over you in physical terms. come on, its savanaclaw. apparently the guy had spared him an unsavory comment and (apparently, in your defense. only told him a few words, got attacked so it was self defense.)

it came a surprise to him. seeing as you’re generally relaxed in nature, your military prowess a mystery to most since you seemed content with resorting matters with peace. though you seem to lack more restraint when it comes to your close relationships.

vil scolding you in the infirmary (you don’t have a scratch, and the guy whose pride you handed back to is in some corner lamenting cause he can hear you guys.) and you just taking it.

contrary to how you first treated to each other. you seem to be more prone to his opinions, or suggestions the more you progress with each other. he admits maybe he was too outright in his manner of speaking the first time, but it only highlights the change you’d gone through with each other.

you’re the perfect doll, in a way. not in a demeaning way or anything but its so satisfying to him to use products on your face just for the sole reason that you sit so still. his absolute favorite past time is skin care together even if you mostly just follow his lead.

you and epel must be kindred spirits, once he was on his way to retire to the indoors of pomefiore. seeing as it started raining, heavy so it meant it would stay for a while. and then paused when he spotted you both sharing words.

and planting apple seeds in the rain? both of you are stained with the rain, some dirt and mud alike. and vil had never looked so mortified. so just cause you don’t protest when he cares for you doesn’t mean you’re bothered by getting dirty he guesses.

“you both… clean yourselves up, i’ll brew medicine lest you fall under the weather.” ← disappointed sigh.

kalim (jasmine)

ended up waiting for you both to finish under the covers and ushered you both to baths.

you have a tiger!

just living char x their absolute biggest stan

wow you have a tiger.

did he mention you have a tiger?

majority of nrc knows not to mess with you haha, if it’s not obvious already with the seemingly lax tiger that behaves like some sort of overgrown cat following you around and growls at someone when you aren’t looking.

then you always raise a brow at the people who tell you otherwise. “bab doesn’t bite.”

kalim is lowkey highkey their biggest fan, i mean. jamil is having the worst year of his life dragging kalim away wherever you seem to be because the first apparent instinct of the boy is to try to pet the tiger cause it’s ‘cute’.

at some point jamil had to investigate your routine throughout the day, what you do, where you go at specific times like after classes conclude to make sure kalim doesn’t cross path with you.

well, not necessarily you but rather your… tiger. which is hard, honestly. you seem to visit scarabia a lot for a reason unknown. jamil would be suspicious you’d be planning something but all you really do is stay out on the balcony with your companion.

but alas, fate would have it otherwise.

“hi,” kalim blurts before he could remember his friend’s warning. you turn, along with your… also friend who watches him closely. you blurt out a greeting back, seeing as it’s courtesy, you seem to be amused at his fascinated eyes staring at your tiger.

“want a pet?” you offer, bab making sounds of protest.

jamil almost had a heart attack seeing the two of you attached by the hip, only calming down a few weeks later. seeing as your companion wouldn’t pose as much danger as he assumed, seeing as the tiger’s protectiveness started extending to the ray of sunshine.

rich couple ig. everyone overhears your conversations and doubles over. “i had a small statue of gold made for bab, for you.” and then a; “oh, thanks. but we already have a lot at home. hmm…”

actually it’s not really the manner of being attached, more like two following you. kalim, and then your cutie pie tiger.

your reserved nature in particular greatly contrasts kalim, yapper x listener i guess. although the object of his interest was initially because of bab, he might as well be another overgrown cat of yours cause he seems to love touch.

its concerning cause bab themselves felt challenged for your affection and when they spotted kalim’s head nestled on your lap they ‘accidentally’ kick him off.

in a way you seemed untouchable, pet included. you don’t seem to mind kalim much, people might even go as far as to say you enjoy his company. occasionally the vice of his dorm as well, the three of you have this sort of aura that screams ‘don’t approach’

said aura is in the form of a very big cat.

azul (ariel)

one time you admitted to having not much friends and three heads turned towards you. face twisted incredulously.

he doesn’t know why but you looked like you went through ten stages of grief (3 more cause the 7 definitely wasn’t enough.) when you took a glance at him, during the time you were looking around, you almost went past him, actually. but then doubled back immediately.

that’s concerning.

morally suspicious (devil in disguise) x angel

azul often asks your opinions out of habit, he himself isn’t even sure when it started but he considers you a factor in decisions. though he does prefer to keep you out certain… endeavors of his away entirely, no need to concern your innocence in his doings.

as such he often uses the twins to steer you away from trouble cause you seem to have no sense for it whatsoever, whenever there’s a fight brewing instead of walking off you stride closer. curious to whatever was happening.

and, you believe too easily apparently.

jade had held you by your shoulders and directed you away from the fight before the dispute reached you and inevitably dragged you in. “why are they fighting?”

he replied. “ah, well. they inhaled an unpleasant shroom and got affected.” your mortified face spoke you believed him. human culture! you thought.

your brain should be inspected honestly. floyd told him all about the pile of stuff you had “found” in your dorm, ranging from innocent collectibles to items that brought the question of whether or not they were really yours but you didn’t really claim otherwise, just that you found em’ so no more questioning.

azul doesn’t even wanna know why you started staring at mushrooms like they were a mortal enemy of all living forms. speaking of, the three of them didn’t even consider that you could be from the sea as well. seeing as, well. you have two feet, even if they have the same.

besides the fact you’re too clumsy for your own good you sure had no fear when you leapt overboard during a field trip cause a trinket that caught your eye fell and gave the entirety of the attendants a heart attack. floyd had patted him on the back and wishes him condolences.

also the shock of the century when you emerged, pretty tail and all. holding it the trinket up like you just found it the most fascinating thing on the globe.

since then underwater dates were a thing. which took a lot of prompting honestly, you didn’t know he was a merman either, curiously asking him what kind he was. in nature, you were persistent. like a need to sate your questions so he eventually relented.

even then, it took a while before he let you see the form. ← to his fluster you seemed engrossed in this form of his. swimming around him and asking questions.

now azul also have a small pile of items hidden in a box beneath his bed, all from you. which, upon being opened would be mistaken for unused items since its literally random stuff, and a concerning favor towards forks.

oh yeah. sometimes the tweels crash your date.

you could be in his office, going about your business. chilling on his couch and playing with one of your treasures and be completely unaware of the ominous discussion ongoing within the three about anemones? contracts?

“what are you guys talking about?”

“hairstyles for azul.”

“what—”

“ooh. i can brush his hair so you can style it!” pulls out a fork.

leona (belle)

“oh my sevens, WAIT—”

i was having a crisis trying to think of a dynamic so why not just, beauty x beast.

leona is less than pleased to admit he doesn’t like you much. or atleast, he used to. it was clear his feelings of you was reciprocated, based on the uninterested side glances you cast him. your type, well liked, pristine, proper, and informed reminds him all to well of what mold he was forced into. though it never really fit.

you on the other hand, just dislike him in general. more pointedly as to how he acted, too self righteous in your opinion. he sure spends a lot of time moping about how he could have been king when he’s acting like he’d be a terrible one. you’d say it to his face but even you aren’t too crude.

if you’re both looking at the bright side though, you’d probably prefer each other’s company above others. you’re quiet, perfect for napping around. he’s surprisingly true to himself, his morals aren’t too bad either.

as such, to your disdain he now naps in the library. which you had titled your own space, but he didn’t really just care.

relatively you’re a lot more cool headed than he is, you told him concerns about his laziness which he weaved through. after opening up with each other… well you know how it goes.

okay, fine. you no longer berate leona for napping at the public space, quickly shut up when he threatened you. “i’m gonna tell you the real reason ‘m here nowadays if you don’t calm down. and it ain’t the peace i’m here for.” he eyes you, and you shut up after that.

leona doesn’t know if he should be amused or annoyed at the fact that you stand up to whatever he says. ‘that’s rude,’ this. ‘are you out of your mind?’ that. at some point where he doesn’t wanna admit, leona had disliked seeing you upset (particularly towards him) that he started listening.

at others is a different story though. he will gladly watch you shut down someone else.

sometimes he makes weird remarks, like. “throw an egg at them, who knows might hatch into a chick and give them the company they’ve been lacking.” ← just bullies random people while you defend them. “what? don’t be stupid, eggs that are sold don’t hatch into chicks.”

you often lament in his arms, regretting ever coming near his sleeping frame cause next thing you know you’re subjected to prison, and you had accidentally dropped the book you were reading so even if you try to reach for it he’s pulling you back.

will reach for it if you ask tho lol.

just one look from you has him suddenly behaved tbh.

bothers your productive time by crashing it with his opposite word of productive idk im to lazy to check. more often than not tramples over your things, but always looks dead to life when you end up scolding him heavily.

also kicks out the animals that gravitate towards you for some reason, got jealous of a bird nestled in your hair once cause apparently you paid too much attention to it.

apparently told ruggie to fetch books for you when you’re running out, at that point you might actually milk the nrc library with how fast you burn through them.

“you’re not even from here, what do—”

“actually. originally from times before, they—”

riddle (cinderella)

got lectured about history, eugh.

easy to fluster x enthusiastic and sweet

how are you so nice.

you’ve got most of the population of nrc enamored with your natural charm alone, though some do tend to mock you. unfortunately they aren’t wrong, you really do fit in more at a different school like rsa with your personality.

i mean you fit the bill, kind, pretty, talks to animals.

good for you though. cause riddle would prefer a behaved student than a troublesome one anyway so he would definitely dig you lmao.

speaking of. he definitely goes to you whenever the hedgehogs are lost in the maze, or the flamingos just don't wanna step out the farther spot from the pond, somehow they love you in whatever you do.

as in, you spoke to the hedgehogs with a lower tone. almost like a coo, and he almost tells you to stop because that's the universal worse tone to talk to hedgehogs until... it nuzzles into you?!

flabbergasted, he can only watch.

sevens... you're just so pleasant to be around he could die.

at some point it felt like you were the epitome of being kind. riddle understand that the virtue was just embedded into you, letting others berate you for whatever... he even thought you were too kind for a place like nrc where the complete opposite traits are admired.

you are, but only to those who deserve it. riddle had the pleasure to spot you nitpicking a crude student and they looked like they were gonna burst into tears.

so... you knew what to say almost always. when troubled, he'd learn that it's best to talk to you cause you'd know what to say to ease his worries, when you're treated wrongly? sevens.. you also know what to say.

but, in a putting whoever in their place way?

(idk man I'm just rambling at this point lmao idk how to write a cinderella reader.)

riddle has grown accustomed to random critters breaking in the door. well, he was used to animals in the first place. or atleast thought he was when he opened a door in the dorm and almost yelled at the sight of a group of mice looking like they were having conspiracies.

a few weeks after that he knocked on doors before opening them.

was also very disturbed when you announced they were your friends.

I don't know. I feel like he'd lowkey be the type to write your name in a heart on the back of his notebook and straighten his face like: 'what in the world am I doing' but not erasing it anyways.

over time, your little 'friends' got used to him, and vice versa. at the very least he isn't screaming at their sudden visits, be it flying through the window or just popping out of something they climbed on.

who's screaming though are his dorm members, and he's found humors in the encounters.

"ah, thank you, myrcella." he nods gingerly, toward the very tiny white mice who seems to twirl around, touched by the thanks. the little thing was nice enough to carry the pen he'd been using to scribble down the main definitions he'd been copying from the textbook.

in the middle of reaching for a glass of water the door opens, riddle watches one of his residents striding in rambling. probably about to be exposed to the sight of a group of mice sleeping on top of each other atop a cushion he'd personally placed for them.

and maybe the birds. whom seemed comfortable by his small collection of plants.

"dorm leader, octavinelle stude—GAHHHH—"

[rotting-batcorpse]

Twisted Wonderland Spoilers!!! ⚠️

HELP!!!😭

Not Idia presenting his plan on how to defeat OB Malleus by creating an adorable video with the characters. I love his confidence and ability to make an informative video in the middle of a disaster where over thousands(20k) of people are put into a deep sleep.

His editing skills are top notch 👌