SUPREME OVERLORD SHRIMPY

He/him, nonsharing Jade yume

[eternalrrst]

ABOUT BLADE'S TRAILER

a crappy analysis by a stupid illiterate chud (dont take my word on half of this i made this for fun + these are my personal interpretations & they might be wrong)

idk a lot of this feels very redundant to me but its ok ill polish it later when im less tired since it's late 😭

0:04 SECONDS

the flame in his eye extinguishes which i believe is a callback to the original blade trailer 3 years ago where it instead ignites

also could connect with the fact that he's come to terms with his identity not as a blade but as a person who forges his own path, that drive/mara is being extinguished as well

the name of the trailer is nirvana,, blade has been rebirthed, he's in a state of transcendance and released from his karma perchance 🤔

0:07 SECONDS

the giant scrolls definitely has to do with blade's sins, especially with the imagery of the giant statue of him overlooking himself,,, almost like he's judging himself. it's like that weight he's taken upon himself to pay the price

the flower is growing and flowers also symbolize new life (haha rebirth) i find it really interesting that it's the focal point and the only splash of color in the frame

the next few seconds it appears he's in some sort of coffin or something that traditionally looks sacrificial if you catch my drift ough this is so delicious sorry i love the visuals so much

the roots are growing over him which is VERY reminiscent of mara but he strangely doesn't look all that bothered by it

0:17 SECONDS

a drop of blood drips from the blade statue's hands which then transitions to blade sinking into the ocean - it quite literally symbolizes the lives blade has taken, a physical representation of the negative karma and burden he bears, the sinking metaphor could allude to the fact that he's drowning in the sins he's accumulated

he does find his footing and transition to a lycoris-infested field, the transition is definitely a callback to his og ultimate and could be the 'final farewell' to his previous identity as a blade/as yingxing ... thinking that the spark in the distance and the noise accompanying it is yingxing's forge

0:30 SECONDS

HE RUSHES ACROSS THE FIELD OF SPIDER LILYS, interrupted by himself. OG BLADE!!!, he's quite literally battling his own identity

the recurrent looping i think might be his cycle of life and death, also of his self torment and punishment. the burden he carries and believes he's responsible for ("to pay the price") manifested in the identity of blade, the identity he's reduced himself to as an object rather than a person

0:45 SECONDS

"a sharp blade must first be broken" < referring to the struggles he's had to overcome to thus be reforged for a new 'purpose'

the character trailer osts a far cry from the original trailer 3 years ago where it sounded somewhat violent (the suona, which is typically performed at funerals) but now here there seems to be a somewhat ritualistic chanting and a calmer theme

0:50 SECONDS

EVERYONE CALM DOWN THEYRE STRIPPPING HIM NAKED

his blade quite literally fusing into him feels like he's bearing the weight

"escape is no longer possible" 1:14 MIN -- he's accepted that he has to carry this sin, all the bloodshed and brokenness of the sword he's absorbed fusing back into him as if he's welcoming shard sword's burden

1:27 MIN

he slices himself, as if he's burning his past self away

the atmosphere is clear now, blade sighs and rain falls. he seems to go on with a melancholic grace as he walks towards silver wolf and kafka, where he is now rather than dwelling in the past like he's done before

he's reforged himself for the sake of the present instead of clinging to the past. it could be why he's instead absorbing shard sword rather than using it directly in his attacks UHGHHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I HAVE SO MUCH LOVE FOR THIS MAN IM SUCH A CHUD

SIDE NOTES

opens big fat book

i wanna say he's nihility now in the sense that his sin no longer matters since that he's accepted it, or perhaps he doesn't make the sin/mara his entire identity anymore

destruction before in his previous form symbolized his turmoil, the tumultuous nature of wind reflecting his attitude and shifts between mara yet the transition to fire is a nice perspective considering how fire can be seen as both dangerous and (historically) safe. it provides warmth, used in agriculture, but also could very easily burn down the home it keeps alight

yeah ieuywuwhsh omygosh i loved ts so much feed us more hoyo please

[dizzyblues]

[twstassets]

Statues from the book 8 update

[egophiliac]

when you meet your bff's other friend group and you start to realize why they haven't introduced you yet. 😔

bonus:

[mostroloungeofficial]

First set of 10 memory photos

Second set of 10 memory photos

Last set of 10 memory photos

[lifeisfulloftraps-deactivated20]

SORE SPOT

(i.e. a pseudo essay on racism / whitewashing / ethnic diversity, and an artistic choice + Twisted Wonderland)

    At the outset, I would like to point out that I fully agree that racism is wrong. I have no doubts about it. And yes, whitewashing is a problem, considering that people of color feel like there is no proper representation of someone like them in media.  This essay was not written to offend anyone. I just wanted to highlight a tendency that I often encounter in Twisted Wonderland fandom.

Definition/ The Power of Fiction/ Twisted Wonderland

   The definition of “whitewashing” can be summed up in the statement that it is an action based on “Hiring white actresses and actors for roles intended for representatives of other races or ethnic minorities.” or deliberate or not fully consciously designing a character with an intention of a different ethnic / racial origin, but without or with little recognition of the characteristics of this group (skin color, facial features, etc.) So we are talking about a certain representation of the realities of the real world. But what when we are dealing with a fantasy world, where the creator has all the rights given to them by unlimited imagination? What if „race” (God, I don’t like that word for many reasons) is no longer an interpersonal construct when there are species other than human? And what if we put several different ethnic groups in one territory, and they mix with each other to form a community?

Well, then we are dealing with the non-obvious. Not only in the realm of differences between ethnic groups as such, but also inter species (humans beasts, fairies, gnomes, orcs, trolls, whatever comes to your mind). With such an arsenal of diversity, less significant physical discrepancies may, at the creator’s will, lose any meaning (e.g. the latest Witcher on Netflix).

   The world of Twisted Wonderland from what we have seen pays attention to diversity mainly species and culture than the skin color of the characters (Well, yes, I remember the fairies gala during which Leona, Kalim and Jamil were called „exotic” but as far as we saw no one did  comment on them in a negative way because of the color of their skin. Not every comment on this topic is fully linguistically negative).

From what we can see, race (I mean mermaids, fairies, beastmen) in this context is, as already, the subject of comment. At this point I would like to mention Sebek, who so far is probably the only character discriminating against someone on the basis of race, interestingly- only people. While being half fae. Sebek, I know you can do better; -;

   However … what does all of this have to do with anything? That the world is rich in diversity, blends, and non-obviousness. Reality is intertwined with imagination and magic. What does all this have to do with whitewashing? The fact  is that there are not only two races! Even with us. There are many ethnic groups, mixed relationships, emigration. Closing into “black” and “white” (I know that whitewashing affects not only blacks, but this post would still be longer) closes us to other people, to other possibilities like you know, Mulattoes, Latinos, Gypsies e.t.c-they all seem to be in some untouched gray area in discussion of whitewashing and somewhere beyond the topic itself .

A character in fantasy world can have all sorts of features. They may have white hair and black skin with sharp eyes. They may have the most fanciful heterochromia, birthmarks, and yes, the fantasy world is based on the real world, but doesn’t have to obey its laws.

Context speaks volumes.

   The whitewashing allegations seem to hover around Leona. What do we know about him? He is a beastman based on Scar, a cult figure, the antagonist of The Lion King. He is the prince of a kingdom called Afterglow Savannah (depends on the translation). This country is inhabited by both beastmen (Ruggie) and people (Rook-emigration? Who knows?) The main argument „Leona must be black” theory, is that the action of the “Lion King” takes place in Africa, and more specifically in Kenya. And since the country of Leona itself, suggests a similar location in terms of the Savannah, as well as the original location that Disney studio modeled when creating the animation, the conclusion is that Leona and all residents of Afterglow Savannah should be black to resemble the people of Kenya. The problem is … it doesn’t have to be that way. Because Pride Land wasn’t Kenya or Afterglow Savannah after all. The inspired site does not have to be the target site. And from what we know, the country mentioned in the game may be a place containing many, smaller cultures, minorities, and the color of the skin seems to have absolutely no meaning. How important is an animal which characteristics you have and social status (Ruggie in Afterglow Savannah was discriminated because he was a hyena and lived in a slum ). And important thing- we don’t know much about Afterglow Savannah. Nobody from Aniplex or Yana Toboso said that Afterglow Savannach is 100% Africa. Because inspiration is not the same as a literal transfer of reality.

Inspiration and interpretation

BUT going to the point. Is Leona black? He doesn’t have to. But do you know who is? Sam. Really, why isn’t anyone talking about him? And why is that so? Why isn’t Leona black, but Sam is?

Being inspired by a given character means transferring the most characteristic features and transforming them into a new, but similar form. Sam is a character modeled on the evil voodoo magician Dr. Facilier. A black character in the fairy tale “The Princess and the Frog” (one of my favorite Disney animations btw) which is the first Disney animation full of black heroes. If Sam were white - yes it would be definitive problem. The color of his skin, despite the fact that it does not define the character (no skin color defines a human), is a key element due to the original. Like our two students from Scarabia, they are presented as coming from a place culturally similar to Agrabah (a fictional place) because it was a special place for the action. Leona, in turn, is a character modeled on ANIMAL. Not a man of a given culture. His skin color does NOT matter, because it is in no way relevant to the prototype. In that case, we got a man with lion’s physical features, a scar on his eye, green eyes, and a bad temper. Because it matters to the original. We have many iconic scenes related to the movie with him. And that’s all.

 Conclusion

Does this mean you CANNOT headcanon Leona as a black man? No. Because that’s your interpretation. It is just as important as any other. Do you want to draw Leona with the features of a black skinned person? Go ahead. You don’t agree with me? It’s okay.  But don’t call someone a racist because someone interpreted the character differently than you did when it wasn’t all about skin color at all. And stop calling Yana Toboso names that’s unrespectful.

[sandbinamine]

For the record, when the person in your notes going “PREACH” is the same stupid cunt who got mad at someone making edits of Savanaclaw, and other reblogs feature people I have seen REPEATEDLY dismissing any sort of racial discussion ranging from the ‘exotic’ fiasco from Fairy Gala to the shallow usage of culture in Scarabia, to someone who OPENLY ridiculed ppl making dark-skinned edits of Neige - it’s not a good thing.

“With such an arsenal of diversity, less significant physical discrepancies may, at the creator’s will, lose any meaning” – that is not a good thing.  It being a fantasy setting should not magically make it so that different phenotypes suddenly become a non-option.  If your fantasy series shows an extremely limited, half-assed attempt with just one (1) character (Sam) with any physically unique features (his locs, his darker skin), then you are reflecting a bias, intentionally or not, in how you design characters and think of ethnic phenotypes outside flat straight hair and thin negligible lips.  Are there black people with Ethnocentric traits?  Yes.  That’s an obvious fact of life.  But are phenotypes like full lips and textured hair widely ignored?  Also yes.  And guess what?  That’s not a fucking good thing.  You want to say it can be a deliberate or unconscious decision of how Toboso creates characters? Well, there you have it.  Since she’s designed Sam the way she has, she’s made it very clear it is a deliberate choice to make Jack, Leona, Jamil, and Kalim look like this.

Yeah, real fucking great diversity, mate.  If she can have such a ~diverse~ set of humans, beastfolk, and fae, then it should be no problem for her to branch ou t when it comes to the rest of their designs. But she chose not to.  I wonder why?  Because they lost meaning?  Is that supposed to be a good thing?  Is it a good thing they’re all the same light, greyish brown?

   The world of Twisted Wonderland from what we have seen pays attention to diversity mainly species and culture than the skin color of the characters (Well, yes, I remember the fairies gala during which Leona, Kalim and Jamil were called „exotic” but as far as we saw no one did comment on them in a negative way because of the color of their skin. Not every comment on this topic is fully linguistically negative). So you’re saying, that Kalim, Leona, and Jamil being singled out as ‘exotic’ wasn’t a racial thing?  Because the flimsy explanation in-game was “oh they’re from rich backgrounds in hot climates uwu”?  When “exotic”, HISTORICALLY, get used as a way to fetishise skin colour and make it another case of “othering” dark skin from light skin? The way it’s disguised as a compliment when it all comes down to othering someone’s dark skin or otherwise ethnic traits compared to white people?  Kind of like how only the dark-skinned characters are considered ‘exotic’?  A term used for animals and objects is meant to compliment people?  

From what we can see, race (I mean mermaids, fairies, beastmen) in this context is, as already, the subject of comment. At this point I would like to mention Sebek, who so far is probably the only character discriminating against someone on the basis of race, interestingly- only people. While being half fae. Sebek, I know you can do better; -; Are you fucking illiterate?  Rook Hunt spends 90% of his lifetime obsessing, OBSESSING, over Beastfolk like Leona, stalking him, asking him (and Fae, for that matter), questions he has no business asking or are they obligated to answer.  He actively waters Leona down to only his animalistic traits, which he himself exasperates because he’s HARASSING Leona whenever the opportunity comes up.  He touches Ruggie’s tail without consent and makes unwarranted comments on his fur when forcing him to tell him about Leona when he doesn’t want to.  Just because his comments are camoflauged under his obsession towards beauty doesn’t mean he isn’t discriminatory against them.

   However … what does all of this have to do with anything? That the world is rich in diversity, blends, and non-obviousness. Reality is intertwined with imagination and magic. What does all this have to do with whitewashing? The fact  is that there are not only two races! Even with us. There are many ethnic groups, mixed relationships, emigration. Closing into “black” and “white” (I know that whitewashing affects not only blacks, but this post would still be longer) closes us to other people, to other possibilities like you know, Mulattoes, Latinos, Gypsies e.t.c-they all seem to be in some untouched gray area in discussion of whitewashing and somewhere beyond the topic itself.

You want to argue about whitewashing, when you’re too fucking stupid to recognise that G*psy is a slur against Romani? That “m*latto* is outdated and has history of being controversial as well?  And none of these groups are ‘untouched grey areas’.  You just don’t pay attention to discussions focused on them.  Just because you do not see it, does not mean it isn’t happening (and it very much is, unless you’ve been living under a goddamn rock during the, for example, ENTIRE issue of whitewashing in the Netflix Winx Club).

A character in fantasy world can have all sorts of features. They may have white hair and black skin with sharp eyes. They may have the most fanciful heterochromia, birthmarks, and yes, the fantasy world is based on the real world, but doesn’t have to obey its laws.

And yet, again, here’s Toboso’s vast and creative design choices for her dark-skinned major characters.  

She couldn’t even be bothered to make more than one (1) character with ANY SIGNIFICANT variation in skin tone.  All four of them are just this ‘consumable’, light brown that I could find on an apartment’s carpet.  And that’s JUST me bringing up skin colour because, again, in a fantasy setting, why couldn’t she be bothered to think about unique phenotypes?  Why is it okay for her to reflect her own biases again and again and again like the rest of mainstream media thoughout centuries, but it’s suddenly problematic for fans of colour to want more than just the same recycled designs?  When shows MUCH older than TWST, like JJBA and HxH, can have designs like Avdol, Annie, Smokey Brown (awful fucking name tho) and Canary, why can’t Toboso be bothered to more than just Sam?  Is there a good reason?  Or did Soma and Agni use up all her ink?

The whitewashing allegations seem to hover around Leona. What do we know about him? He is a beastman based on Scar, a cult figure, the antagonist of The Lion King. He is the prince of a kingdom called Afterglow Savannah (depends on the translation). This country is inhabited by both beastmen (Ruggie) and people (Rook-emigration? Who knows?) The main argument „Leona must be black” theory, is that the action of the “Lion King” takes place in Africa, and more specifically in Kenya. And since the country of Leona itself, suggests a similar location in terms of the Savannah, as well as the original location that Disney studio modeled when creating the animation, the conclusion is that Leona and all residents of Afterglow Savannah should be black to resemble the people of Kenya.

First off, no one’s fucking said that EVERY character from Afterglow Savannah has to be black.  Not a single fucking person.  That’s why it’s FINE that characters like Ruggie and Rook aren’t dark-skinned (you could easily just say Ruggie is mixed).  

  The problem is … it doesn’t have to be that way. Because Pride Land wasn’t Kenya or Afterglow Savannah after all. The inspired site does not have to be the target site.

And YET.  The Lion King uses SWAHILI NAMES for its animal characters.  It has songs USING THE SWAHILI LANGUAGE. KILAMANJARO IS IN THE ICONIC OPENING SCENE.  IT IS INDISPUTABLY SET IN AFRICA.  Just because it is not set in an explicitly stated African country, it USES THE LANGUAGE AND SCENERY ITSELF.  It’s in AFRICA.

And from what we know, the country mentioned in the game may be a place containing many, smaller cultures, minorities, and the color of the skin seems to have absolutely no meaning. How important is an animal which characteristics you have and social status (Ruggie in Afterglow Savannah was discriminated because he was a hyena and lived in a slum ). And important thing- we don’t know much about Afterglow Savannah. Nobody from Aniplex or Yana Toboso said that Afterglow Savannach is 100% Africa. Because inspiration is not the same as a literal transfer of reality.

You suffer from “colourblindness”, and there’s a plethora of fucking issues with that.  Since Afterglow Savannah has several cultures within it, it should reflect that in having several skin colours and phenotypes.  Not just cookie-cutter design bullshit Toboso may pull.  The clothing Cheka wears are based off African prints, his name, usually spelt T’cheka, is African in origin.  The moment you want to start using the language and clothing of the culture you’re ‘inspired’ by, you better fucking deliver and ACKNOWLEDGE that beyond just the pretty aesthetics to make things seem more ‘exotic’, as the game wants to put it.  It is a location based off the Lion King’s setting, which gets its inspiration from Kenya and Tanzania, using a language and scenery from Africa.  So the Afterglow Savannah better fucking reflect that in its culture and people.  The charcters themselves are BEASTFOLK, not ANIMALS, and using AFRICA, which has AFRICAN PEOPLE IN IT, it’s a bad look to JUST look at these characters as animals.

BUT going to the point. Is Leona black? He doesn’t have to. But do you know who is? Sam. Really, why isn’t anyone talking about him? And why is that so? Why isn’t Leona black, but Sam is?

You REALLY don’t want Leona to be black, huh.  Anyway Sam HAS come up in discussions in that he’s the one (1) character with darker skin and anything unique about his design (the locs).  

Being inspired by a given character means transferring the most characteristic features and transforming them into a new, but similar form. Sam is a character modeled on the evil voodoo magician Dr. Facilier. A black character in the fairy tale “The Princess and the Frog” (one of my favorite Disney animations btw) which is the first Disney animation full of black heroes. If Sam were white - yes it would be definitive problem. The color of his skin, despite the fact that it does not define the character (no skin color defines a human), is a key element due to the original.

Convenient avoidance of the racist and inaccurate portrayal of voodou in the Princess in the Frog to begin with, not to mention Sam’s edgy, nonsensical bone makeup that FURTHER reflects Toboso’s own biases and interpretations of something part of Haitian culture.  

Are you really doing this? “Leona doesn’t have to be black, you have Sam, be happy you have one (1) black character uwu”.  Since Sam can have some pigment, WHY CAN’T THE OTHERS? Since Sam has unique phenotypes, WHY CAN’T THE OTHERS.  And why is, even then, do people STILL manage to give Sam a lighter complexion in their fanart of him, let alone of the lighter skinned characters of colour?

Like our two students from Scarabia, they are presented as coming from a place culturally similar to Agrabah (a fictional place) because it was a special place for the action. For the record, the only reason Aladdin takes place in Agrabah is that, because, originally it was meant to take place in Iran. But then the war happened and Disney didn’t want to risk hurting their sales.  So now you have a setting haphazardly mixing unique SWANA cultures for the aesthetic and happily calling it “barbaric” within the first few verses at the very beginning of the goddamn movie.

Leona, in turn, is a character modeled on ANIMAL. Not a man of a given culture. His skin color does NOT matter, because it is in no way relevant to the prototype. In that case, we got a man with lion’s physical features, a scar on his eye, green eyes, and a bad temper. Because it matters to the original. We have many iconic scenes related to the movie with him. And that’s all.

And, again, we come back to the fact that Toboso is STILL CLEARLY USING INSPIRATION from African cultures, and watering down characters to JUST their animalistic traits is a bad look and reflects poorly on her decision-making skills (and you for that matter).  

Racism and colourism are just as prevalent in Japan as they are in the West.  People are discriminated against because of their skin colour, or just because of their ethnic background (the Ainu, the Okinawan), or just because they’re mixed (see: J’Nique Nicole and how she was treated working in Japan).

Japan isn’t your magical “race doesn’t matter” utopia.  Toboso is a grown ass Japanese woman in an industry centred on designs and worldbuilding, she fucking knows better. She CAN do better.  You want to ask WHY Leona has to be black?  Why DOESN’T he have to be black?  Why DOESN’T Afterglow Savannah have to reflect the FACT it takes inspiration DIRECTLY FROM Africa?

Simple. She just doesn’t want to put in the effort.  And that’s not praise-worthy.

[totallyjadedd]

What are you crying for

[honeyedpearcrushh]

"I get misty just holding your hand"

Happy belated Valentines day or something along those lines

Tags (MOOTS! Feel free to request to be added or removed from this): @silfuville @beneathsakurashade @abiding-memories @totallyjadedd @thecadeverse @Brystellix

[thecadeverse]

@silfuville uhhh gift edit for jinny!! i love you fuyu!!

[silfuville]

im in love with you pushes floyd leech out of the way I LOBE THIS SO FREAKIH MUCH IM GONNA LICK YOU UP AND DOWN HOLY MOLY im getting married to thsi edit and all of u are invited hjhagaaahfhshhj oh my gosh ohuhh

[thecadeverse]

@beneathsakurashade hihi:3 gift edit for marci!!!! my first alight motion edit ever

[silfuville]

ITS CANOE!!!!!

[silfuville]

woah. lee posting hsr.

anyways this is myna his real name is rahu and i put him with blade bcs i luv blade

badly explained lore beneath cut ^0^

CORRECT ME IF I'M WRONG ON ANY OF THIS!!! it's been a while man

myna's sort of the consciousness of the planet rahu in honkai star rail which is a living planet and based on the actual rahu in vedic mythology methinks, who's a sort of immortal shadow planet, he got decapitated after drinking the nectar of immortality and thus tries to swallow the sun and moon as revenge

rahu (the planet) used to be a dead planet before yaoshi came by and revived it, however in yaoshi fashion they overdid it and now it's a living planet. it also ate up jingliu's ship, the xianzhou cangjie.

in the process of reviving rahu, yaoshi accidentally sort of manifested a consciousness for it resulting in myna!!! myna is evil and wants to eat everything

he's posing as a memokeeper slash memetic entity because he's not actually entirely there (yet), he's just.. stealing memories and eating them until he gains enough "experience" to be real

myna is named after the bird, which can mimic human voice :)

uhh lalala insert proper name place name backstory stuff but he has a strong interest in blade because... well his history is interesting snd he thinks he could benefit from eating his brain

i'm making stuff up but hey this is fantasy space

for his design i took a lot of inspiration from various mughal/ancient indian textiles and other vedic styles slash materials, but a lot of it also comes from dan heng, yaoshi themself, and also blade if you couldn't tell from the identical bracelet

a few moon slash sun (gold + disc hair ornaments) imageries and green because it reminded me of the voracity, and his veil is meant to look like teeth

[twstyturny]

an affection anthology ft. jade leech

a timeline of your relationship through the school year :P

you can read the (optional) prologue, “anti acceptance”, here!

tags/warnings: jade leech x reader (romantic), gn!reader, reader is the prefect, swearing, sfw but written with college age (18-22) in mind, wish upon a star event (very mild spoilers), reader has hair/bedhead, mutual teasing, pure fluff with no serious conflict or stakes

a/n: ik i promised one three-year fic ending in a proposal (requested) but that would be WAY too long for something without a real plot structure ;-;  i’ll at least fulfill this other request with this fic, but i’ll have to do the proposal in yet another installation lol

word count: 9.1k (six fics stacked on top of each other in a giant trench coat)

DO NOT FEED ANY PART OF THIS TO AI.  thanks!

dividers by @/uzmacchiato and @/cafekitsune!

You didn’t think you’d get this far.

Two and a half months ago, right before summer break, you’d confessed to Jade Leech.  Not with the intention of pursuing him, dating him, or even flattering him; no, you’d confessed so that he would reject you.  Because that’s the only way you’d be able to quash your crush on the worst possible person you could have a crush on.

Well, to prove you right in just the wrong way, Jade had accepted your confession.  Or if you wanted to be technical about it, he’d rejected your request to be rejected.

And then he charmed you into going on a date.  And at the end of that date, he charmed you into going on another date.  And so on and so forth, until you could confidently say that you and Jade were ‘dat-ing’.

So, correction: you didn’t think you’d get this far, because you’d been actively trying to not go in this direction.

You're also not going to flatter yourself and believe that Jade actually likes you, either.  Like his brother, he’s more motivated by amusement and fascination than by ‘love’.  And though that’s what you'd expected of him from the start, it’s not any less… difficult.

Translation: you are whipped for this stupid eel.  And said stupid eel is blatantly stringing you along.  Through the mud.  For fun.

Welcome to hell.

Draped across your dorm couch like a swooned Victorian lady, Ace sighs, loud and dramatic.  “Maaan, this year’s entrance ceremony was so boring.”

“That’s a good thing, Ace,” you deadpan from the floor.  “Riddle would’ve had everyone’s heads if last year repeated itself.”

“Ehh, probably.  But the Headmage could’ve at least made his speeches shorter, couldn’t he?  It’s not like anyone's actually paying attention.”

Deuce throws a pillow at his head.  “Just because you weren’t paying attention doesn’t mean nobody was!”

“Yeah, Ace!” Grim snickers.

You scoff lightheartedly.  “You weren’t listening either, Grim.  You literally slept through the entire thing.”

The accused whips his head around at you, betrayed.  “W-Well!” he scrambles.

At the flash in Grim’s eyes, you realise: Oh no.  You should not have drawn attention to yourself.  Not when you’re equally culpable.

And here it comes: “At least I wasn’t making goo-goo eyes at Jade Leech the whole time!”

“Yeah,” the redhead snickers as your face heats up, “I guess you can’t get any worse than that!”

Deuce throws a second pillow at Ace—“Be nice!”—but he doesn’t disagree.

Nor do you have any dignity left to deny it, yourself.

“Hey, look on the bright side: he’ll probably break up with you soon,” Ace assures.  “He’s gonna be too busy being a vice-housewarden and thinking about his internship!”

“Oh right,” Deuce and Grim collectively realise with their single shared brain cell, while your heart drops a couple storeys lower than you'd like.

Ace’s argument is a good one—a great one, even—but you've already thought of it before, many times, in fact.  And it’s good news!  You should feel relieved that you’ll finally be free from Jade’s emotional clutches, especially considering how your goal in the first place was just that.

The issue: you're in too deep.  When you’d first gotten into this mess, you were only a few rungs up on the ‘whippedness’ ladder.  You were ready to jump off of your own accord and just sprain an ankle or two, metaphorically.

Now, you're too high on the ladder, about to be shoved off before you're ready, and you’re gonna break both your legs and maybe your back.  And it almost feels like it's not a metaphor anymore.

Instead of voicing any of your inner turmoil, you argue weakly, “We're not even together.  There’s nothing to break up.”

The trio stares at you, in varying degrees of confusion, shock, and exasperation.  Not even a peep.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you add.

“Aren't you dating?” Deuce asks, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Sure, but it’s just dates.  I could go on a date with Ace, and it wouldn't make him my boyfriend.”  You ignore the latter’s disgusted grimace.

“So it’s a good thing then!” Grim responds a bit too abrasively.  “Jade can’t actually dump you, so he’ll just ignore you forever!”

Your heart dips even further.

“Ghost,” Ace adds very helpfully.  “He’ll ghost you.”

Unable to sink into the floorboards at will, you settle for tugging your ceremonial hood over your face.  “Yeah,” your voice breaks.  “Yeah.  Great.  Thanks, guys.”

The very next day, Jade himself shows up to your door before class.

You know in those TV shows, when a cop shows up to someone’s wife’s door, takes off his hat, and solemnly implies in ten words or less that she’s now a widow?  Well, you sure feel like the wife here.

But as you scan his expression for any hint of impending emotional doom, Jade’s polite smile betrays nothing.

“Good morning, Prefect,” he greets.

“Morning, Jade,” you parrot without any heart.

His gaze lingers on your face for an unsettling amount of time, probably to watch the light leave your eyes as he dropkicks your heart into the sun.

This is it.  He’s about to tell you he never wants to see you again.

You square your shoulders and steel yourself for his next words…

“Are you ready to go?”

…which were not what you were expecting.

You nearly collapse in relief.  “Oh, uh, yeah,” you exhale, bracing your spine up against the doorframe.  “Grim?” you turn and call, “it’s time to go!”

A blur of grey shoots past your legs and out the door upon noticing your company.  “Stay safe, Henchhuman!  I’m outta here!”

The eel simply laughs at your furry ward’s blatant fear of him.

Before this, Jade has never come straight to your door to pick you up, so Grim absolutely thinks he’s about to kidnap you or something.  Maybe you should be concerned that your so-called ‘boss’ is so quick to abandon you, but as you spot him in the distance periodically glancing back, you’ll choose to be grateful for the privacy instead.

As if magnetic, your fingers interlock with Jade’s, and oh Seven—

Why does this feel so right?

His hands not clammy or uncomfortably warm, his skin smooth like silk satin but still seemingly unbreakable…  If you really focus, you can feel the dim pulse in his fingertips humming into the back of your hand.

Wouldn’t it be nice to do this every day?

You blow up the tracks of that train of thought and drive it full-steam off a cliff.

It’s not until you arrive at your classroom that you finally begin to slip your hand from Jade’s grasp.

But when you step past the threshold, you fail to suppress a squeak as you’re abruptly tugged back by the same damn hand (which apparently did not fully slip out of Jade’s), straight into his chest.

“Just a moment,” the bastard croons into your ear.  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Your legs buckle, but Jade holds you firmly against him.  “No?” you sputter.

He simply hums.  And then he tips your chin and fucking kisses the top of your head.

“Have a good class, Prefect.”

You distantly hear Deuce, and Ace screaming (“PREFECT, NO!!!” and “WHAT THE FUCK?!!” respectively) down the hall from where they witnessed it.

Jade finally lets you go, and you do, in fact, collapse.  Ace and Deuce scream even harder, and oh hey, Grim’s here too.  “Stay with me, Henchhuman!  I’ll reverse the curse, don’t worry!”

As your friends all panic over the curse that Jade must’ve cast on you, the latter crouches down to your level, amused as ever.  “Are you alright, Prefect?”

“Yup,” you croak, too dazed to notice the hand (the same.  fucking.  one.) that he’s offering you.  “Bye, have a good class~”

“You’re positive you don’t need me to bring you to the infirmary?”

“Uh huh.  See ya…”

On your knees, as the world spins around you, you make a new realisation:

Jade’s not dropping you cold turkey.

He’s gonna build you up, and drop you only when it’s most interesting for him.  Which, by definition, means when it’s most inconvenient for you.

You’re so not ready for this.

For three months, through homework and prefect duties, through midterms and finals, you walk the line between indulging your yearning for Jade and holding him at arm’s length.  It is exhausting.

Every morning, Jade walks you to class.  Every afternoon, he walks you back to your dorm.  You still go on little dates every few weekends.  And every time you two part, he kisses the top of your head.  Which is also fairly mortifying when you’re surrounded by your schoolmates, but that’s beside the point.

The pesky eel has whittled your certainty down to a sliver, so much so that you eventually ask your friends, “Do you think Jade… actually likes me back?”

Their response: a homogeneous blend of grimaces, “Nope”s, and “Don’t go there”s.

“Cool, cool, that’s what I thought too.”

You need to get yourself out of this predicament before your emotional fate is actually officially, irreversibly, terminally out of your hands.  That means breaking off this… thing with Jade before winter break.

So, drunk on desperation and sleep deprivation, you devise a gameplan:

Step 1: Hold yourself accountable.  Tell your friends that you’re breaking things off with Jade and do not let them down.

Step 2: Meet with Jade.  Schedule a time and place.

Step 3: Finish the job.  Say: “This has been fun, but I’m breaking off whatever this is between us.  Stay away from me until the end of time, please and thank you!”

Emotional freedom in three simple steps.  It’s a foolproof plan!  (And if it feels like you’ve been through this song and dance before, no, you have not.)

At 2 am the day before winter break, you start with Step 1.  Opening your now-second-year group chat, you cursorily text a declaration:

You: i’m gonna break things off with jade today. wish me luck guys

then immediately turn your phone on silent before anyone can respond—if anyone’s even awake (Someone probably is.  Your money’s on Ace)—and conk out instantly.

You jolt awake to the sound of knocking on your bedroom door.  

“Hello?!” you bark.  It’s light outside, and Grim still lies beside you, fast asleep.

“Good morning, Prefect,” the most enchanting voice seeps through the seams of your door.  “You must've overslept your alarm.  Are you decent?  May I come in?”

“Uh, yeah!” you bark out reflexively, scrambling out of bed.  “Wait, no—wait—hold on!  I'm in my pyjamas!”

The door cracks open, and in pops the eel plaguing your mind 24/7.

You both stand there like two cowboys in a standoff.  Jade looks you up and down with his usual smile.  You glare at him.

“Jade.  Out,” you command, closing the gap in an attempt to shoo him out.  He doesn't budge, even when you start shoving against him.

“Fufufu, so this is what you look like when you wake up,” he comments, immovable.  “How cute.”

“Out.”

“Alright,” he chuckles, taking a step back.  But then he places a hand on your head, smoothing your hair down.  “You have bedhead, Prefect.”

You almost lean into his touch.  You nearly forget that you have a plan to follow.  You just barely remember that you're breaking things off with Jade today.

Do not let him change your mind.

Channelling your inner black belt, you seize the wrist of the hand petting your head.  “Are you going to Kalim’s party tonight?”

Eyes wide in surprise, Jade slowly retracts his hand.  “Y-Yes,” he stutters out.  “The Lounge will be closed today, so I expect I will be.”

“Good.  I have something I need to talk to you about.”

He tenses.  “…Should I be concerned?”

“No,” you sigh.  “It’s nothing to you.”

“I see.”

“I’m gonna make you late, so you don’t need to walk me to class today,” you continue when Jade makes no move to leave your room.  “And you don’t need to worry about walking me back, either.”

“…Are you alright?” he enquires after a moment.

You almost laugh.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  I’ll see you later, okay?”

To your chagrin, Jade stares right into your eyes, probably in search of answers you refuse to verbalise.  To shake off the intensity, you dart your eyes in every direction but him: eye contact with Jade is a terrible idea no matter which way you look at it, especially now.

“Have a good day,” you add awkwardly, crossing your fingers that he’ll actually leave soon.

After far too long, he backs away.  “You too, Prefect.  I’ll see you later, then.”

Step 2, done.

As you watch Jade walk alone down the path to the main school building, you’re hit with the nagging feeling that you’re missing something.

Did you forget to do your homework?   No, you weren’t assigned anything for the last day of classes.

The dishes, maybe?   Did you neglect to do those last night?   That’s not it.

Is it someone’s birthday?   No, that’s not it, either.

After 20 minutes of hard thinking, you realise: it’s the kiss.  Jade didn’t kiss you goodbye this time, and it feels horrible.

You’re experiencing fucking Jade Leech kiss withdrawal.

You scream into your pillow.

You show up to Kalim’s party in the evening, fully ready to land the final blow.

The only issue: Jade isn’t here.

You haven’t seen him, none of your friends have seen him, none of the other students you’ve asked have seen him.  He hasn’t texted you, either.

Jade fucking stood you up and it’s totally psyching you out.

You text him

hey where are you

only to get left on read.  He knows.

You call him, even though you don’t expect him to answer.  And sure enough, the phone rings once, twice, three times…

He actually picks up.  To your utter surprise.

“Where are you?” you hiss.

For a silent moment, you think that he might just refuse to humour you, might just hang up now.  But the eel sure has a thing for subverting your expectations.  “…I’d rather not show up for something so… unpleasant.”

“What are you talking about?  Who said anything about ‘unpleasant’?”

“Perhaps you should be more selective in what you tell Grim,” the bane of your existence answers, “seeing as his favour can be bought with just a few cans of premium tuna.”

“Ugh, I'm gonna strangle him.  Why do you have to be so difficult?  Can’t you spare me just this once?”

“I…” He pauses.  “That… wouldn’t be in my best interest.”

“Jade, you’re actually starting to piss me off.  I’m not gonna let you keep stringing me along for your own fucking amusement,” you snap, “and you refusing to show up isn’t gonna change my mind.”

“…Is that what you think I’m doing?” he asks softly.  “‘Stringing you along’?  And here I was, thinking that we were both enjoying ourselves.  Was I mistaken?”

You scoff.  “Yes—no—UGH,” you groan, then try again.  “I’m just gonna come out and say it: you know I like you; I know you don’t actually feel the same.  So I have no reason to keep playing along with you.”

For what feels like a minute, the line is quiet.

“Hello?”

“…I’m here,” he breathes.  “I… You were right.  I think we should discuss this in person.  Have you left Scarabia already?”

“No,” you huff.  “Grim’s still stuffing his face, so I’m waiting in the hall.”

“Good.  I’ll be there in a second.”

“Are you here?”

“Perhaps,” he hums, and you hear the music and chatter of the party grow louder from his end of the phone.  “See you soon.”

Sure enough, Jade takes no more than a minute to find you.

You’re the first to speak.  “So what is it that we needed to discuss in person—”

“You’re wrong.”

Caught off guard by his uncharacteristic brusqueness, you flinch.  “Uh?”

“About how I don’t feel the same.  You’re wrong,” he repeats.  His usual polite mien is nowhere to be found, leaving only raw sincerity.

A nasty bout of hope seizes your heart and clogs your throat.

“If you’re truly set on parting ways, then I can’t stop you,” Jade continues, voice level, “but if the basis of your choice is my supposed lack of… fondness for you, please consider sparing us both the unnecessary misery.”

You scoff shakily.  “Say it straight, Jade.”

“Very well.  I return your affections, Prefect.”

Heart beating a thousand beats per minute, eyes wholly unfocussed, you find your consciousness peeling away from your body and brain.  “…Okay, I’m gonna get going now~” a voice rings in your ears—your voice.

“Where are you going?”

“Dunno…”

Jade steps closer to you and places his hands on your shoulders, maybe in an effort to ground you.  It doesn’t work.  “Shall we continue this conversation later, then?”

You hum.

“Alright, I’ll give you some time,” he whispers, turning to leave.  “Have a good night, Prefect.”

But before he can get far, your hand snags the sleeve of Jade’s blazer.  “…You’re forgetting something.”

“Oya?  And what would that be?”

No words come out, but to your chagrin, your other hand rises…

and points straight at the crown of your head.

What.  Is.  Wrong.  With.  You.

Luckily, with a shake of your head, you do manage to snap out of your stupor before he can honour your request.

Less luckily, not in time to stop him; only enough to feel his lips meet the exact spot where you’d pointed just a second prior.

The touch of his lips is like a shot of epinephrine, the way the warmth diffuses through your bloodstream, head to toe.

Or maybe it’s an injection of poison, killing you slowly but surely.

Well, if this is death, Great Seven, does it feel nice.

You’re dead.

You really died.

Or at least you’re about to.  Because the Grim Reaper is currently in the act of busting down your bedroom door to get to you.  (After that incident with Jade, you started locking your door at night, thank Seven.)

The paintings on the wall swing like pendula.  The junk in your drawer rolls about like water in a hot pan.  You even discover tuna cans that Grim (yours, not the Reaper) hid at some point, inching their way out from beneath furniture with each shake of the room.

But your bed is so comfortable right now…

“Shrimpyyyyy,” whines from behind the quaking door.  “Open sesame!”

…Oh, it’s Floyd.  Which might actually be worse than the Grim Reaper.  But to Floyd’s credit, you would prefer seeing him over his brother right now.

“What do you want, Floyd?” you whine back.  “Go away.”

The pounding only gets more aggressive.  “Open up!”

“No.  Let me sleep.”

“Okaa~ay!  I’mma kick down your door!” Floyd threatens.  “In 5, 4, 3…”

“FINE,” you groan, dragging yourself out of the warm embrace of your duvet.  “I’m coming, I’m coming.  Don’t wreck my house.”

You swing the door open, glaring at the eel on the other side.  “What.”

“Fix Jade,” he blurts, pouting.  “He’s broken.”

Unimpressed, you try to close the door, but Floyd shoves his way past you and into your room.  “That’s just normal Jade,” you sigh.

“No, he’s being weird!  He’s ripping up flowers and speaking in tongues!”

You yawn.  “Sounds normal to me.”

Floyd grimaces.  “Eehhhh… Is Shrimpy always this stubborn?  No wonder Jade’s having such a hard time courtin’ ya.”

“Wha—He’s not—” you sputter, and Floyd takes advantage of your blue-screening to throw you onto his shoulder.  “I’m not—!”

“Uh~huuhhh,” he dismisses, already in full stride.  “Save it for Jade.”

Remember when you thought you’d prefer seeing Floyd over his twin?  Well, you take that back.  As much as Jade likes to make life difficult for you, at least he wouldn’t haul you—clad in only your pyjamas—across campus in broad daylight while it's snowing.  Probably.

After a long, uncomfortable trek on Floyd’s shoulders—shoulders, plural, because he would just toss you onto the other shoulder when one side got tired—you finally make it to Octavinelle.

With little regard for your flailing body, your captor skips down the hall to his twin’s door and kicks it open at the tail end of Jade’s mutterings.

“Got a delivery for ya~”

“…me not,” Jade finishes quietly, attention fixed on the picked-bare flower stem between his fingers.  “Ah, Floyd, you've brought the Prefect.  What a pleasant surprise.”

Though his distaste is directed more at his brother than yourself, Jade’s sarcasm is obvious.  His tone is curter than he uses with you, gaze sharper than what you’re used to, but Floyd is nonetheless unfazed.  He throws you onto Jade’s bed.

Which already has Jade on it.

You are on top of Jade.

“Floyd—!  You—!” you squawk, rolling off of the bed, off of him, hitting the floor with an impressive thud.

Over the edge of the mattress, olive and gold eyes scan over you in fleeting concern.  “…Floyd.”

“You’re welcome!” Floyd spits back with equal irritation.  “Someone needed to fix you before we go home!”  And then he bursts into abrupt giggles, bounding out of the room with the door left just slightly ajar behind him.

The door is still open.  You should follow him out.  Just leave; Jade didn’t invite you here in the first place.

But you don’t.

You stay, sprawled out on your crush’s rug, surrounded by a dense dusting of snow-white petals.  From the sheer amount of them, Jade must’ve plucked over forty giant daisies bare.

The sound of your heart pounding in your ears almost drowns out his murmur.  “Do you need more time?”

You’ve heard Jade weave sarcasm into polite words.  You’ve heard him excitedly info-dump about a passion of his.  Just yesterday, you even heard him nervous and raw.  But to this extent?  Never.

You sit up.  “…I need you to be transparent.”  Your voice is shaking.

“You don’t actually like me, do you?  Or maybe you find me interesting or fascinating or whatever.  But you’re gonna get bored of me, aren’t you?

“If you know this won't go anywhere, then just tell me now,” you plead.  “Please.”

Jade slips off the bed and kneels down to your eye-level—not that it matters when you don’t have the courage to meet his eyes.

Everything depends on his next words; you'll go all in if he says one thing, all out if he says the other.  You might as well just bet your life on a coin toss.

He chuckles without humour nor coldness, “You truly have no faith in me, do you, Prefect?  Since you insist on doubting my feelings, allow me to set the record straight now: I sincerely care for you, and I don’t expect that to change.”

You collapse back onto the floor with liquified muscles, all stress and heartache draining from your bones, gaze falling on the man-sized mushroom plush propped up on a stool in the corner of the room.  Jade has dressed it up with a bow tie.  You throw a hand over your eyes before you can be overwhelmed by the adorable sight.

“Cool, just making sure.  Uh, I… don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Oya?  And you had such a succinct plan to break up with me.  Perhaps you should get into the habit of making contingency plans.”

You guffaw dryly.  “I plan for the worst case scenario so if it doesn’t go according to plan, I can be pleasantly surprised.”

“Are you, then?” Jade asks.  “Pleasantly surprised?”

Your hand begins to fall asleep; you shift your arm back down to a comfortable position.  The sight you’re met with—of Jade smiling back at you with such relief and fondness—ignites the answer in your throat.  “I am.”

The two words come out more watery than you’d expected, and apparently more than Jade had expected too, because he asks, “Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re crying,” he notes.

You wipe your eyes with your hand.  “Oh.”

Pulling out a handkerchief, Jade gently blots away your tears.  “May I safely assume that these aren’t tears of sadness?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, closing your eyes as he pats over them, “sorry.  I just…  I’m super relieved?  I'm not always such a big crybaby, I promise.”

“I know,” he reassures, stroking your hair.  “Though you are a very pretty crier.”

“Jaaade,” you whine, tossing over in embarrassment.

“Oya?  Why so shy?”  He pokes your exposed cheek.  “You act as if we haven’t been dating for the past five months.”

“We haven’t had a label for the past five months.  I’ve been preparing for you to dump me,” you correct.  “Not that we have a relationship to dump in the first place.”

Jade’s fingers brush down to your cheek.  “Shall we fix that?”

“…You wanna be my boyfriend, Jade Leech?”

“Very much so,” he replies in full seriousness.

And so, your fate sealed, Jade gives zero resistance when you pull him down to your side.  He wraps his arms around you, you press your cheek against his chest.  The heart within beats faster than you’d expect.

You still have a question left unanswered, though.

“Jade?”

“Yes?”

“What’s with all the petals?”

He tenses, just barely, just for a millisecond before he melts back into you.  “It’s… a fortune-telling practice.”

“Huh,” you twitter, amused.  “I would’ve thought you’d only need one flower.”

“I would,” Jade agrees, “but curiously, each of the daisies I’ve come across so far has had an even number of petals, and I happen to be looking for a result different from what those ones suggest.”

You chuckle.  “You gonna keep picking?”

He hums, nestling into you as if the floor with your company is the most comfortable spot in the world.  “No need.  I have my answer.”

It's impossible for a person to exist without ever having heard a love song, read a love story, watched a romcom, any or all of the above.  Even so, none of the heart-wrenching melodies, flowery words, or dramatic confessions could ever have prepared you for the pure paradise you’ve been living for the past two months since making your relationship official.

(Wow!  Who knew that life could be so happy when you’re able to love freely!)

Admittedly, Jade hasn’t treated you any differently from how he did before he’d officially become your boyfriend.  He’s always been courteous, considerate, and only a touch concerningly sketchy.

The real difference?  Your ability to actually enjoy it all.

When it comes to you, he somehow always knows, even when you don’t.  The second before your stomach growls, he already has a snack at the ready.  When you feel particularly touchstarved, he wraps you in his arms.  When you trip on a crack in the pavement, he nonchalantly pulls you upright like a knight in shining armour.

And now, you don’t need to worry about declining Jade’s offers, or dodging his touches, or dissociating while in his presence lest you fall further for him.  Now, you’re safe leaning in.

Your friends, on the other hand, are… worried, to say the least.  It’s nothing new; they’ve been this way since before you even started dating Jade, but you thought they’d at least get used to it by now.

Apparently, you were wrong.

Last week, they tried to inconspicuously block you from spotting Jade in the halls.  To no avail, of course: it's impossible for a barricade of guys lined up shoulder-to-shoulder to not arouse suspicion.

Yesterday, while you and Jade walked hand-in-hand through the courtyard, Sebek Red Rover’ed his way right through your joined hands.  You hadn’t even seen him coming.

And today, as Jade walked the path to Ramshackle to meet you in the morning, Epel leapt out of a bush to football tackle him to the ground.  Luckily, the blanket of snow cushioned their fall, but in an ideal world, you wouldn’t have a boyfriend-shaped imprint on your lawn at all.

Naturally, you pull said boyfriend inside to warm him up, and the feisty little perpetrator sprints off before you can question him, let alone scold him.

“How cruel,” Jade laments without any real chagrin, pouting and shivering in an exaggerated show of pitifulness.  “With my fragile disposition, I’m afraid I have hypothermia.”

“You grew up in subzero waters, you melodramatic eel.”  You tenderly brush the snow from his nose and lashes.  “But I'm sorry I let it get this far.  I’ll talk with them today.”

He preens under your touch like an overgrown cat.  “If anything, I find it most reassuring that you have such loyal friends.  As for myself, however,” he puts back on a dramatic pout, “my nose is still so terribly cold, it'll be frostbitten if I leave it be.  Won't you please remedy that?”

His frigid cheeks nestled comfortably between your warm palms, Jade’s expectant gaze is impossible to ignore and equally impossible to misinterpret.

So you lean in, bringing your lips ever closer to the tip of his nose…

and cup your hand over it.

“Ah, how romantic,” the eel sighs dreamily.  Like this was what he'd wanted all along.  “I'm feeling much better already.”

“Happy to hear it.”

As if it were a campfire, everyone gathers around the gaming setup that Ortho brought over.  Not you, though—you lurk in the corner—until the robot cinnamon roll himself shines the spotlight on you.

“Prefect!  You’ve been standing there for twelve minutes, and you’re exhibiting physical signs of anxiety.  Are you okay?”

At your silence, the other former first-years (now second-years) pause their game and turn to also look at you.  “Ugh, how do I say this…”

You huff, shuffling closer to sit crosslegged on the floor before them.  “Jade.  You guys are bullying him.”

Seven pairs of eyes blink at you; you blink back.

When they give no verbal response, you press on.  “I know you guys have your thoughts about him—and I get it, I do—but he’s also my boyfriend now.  And you guys are my friends, and I care for you all, so… what’s going on?

“Has he done something to you recently?  Am I not spending enough time with you guys?  What… What do you need for this to work?”

The seven pairs of eyes blink at you again, then at each other, then at you again.

Sebek breaks the silence first.  “Does he care about this as much as you do?”

“About what?  The teasing?” you assume.  “No, definitely not.”

“The relationship,” Ace corrects.

It stings, your friends’ lack of confidence in you and your judgement.  But on the other hand, you know it comes from a place of care and concern.

Jack clears his throat.  “You really care about him, Prefect.  If he doesn’t actually feel the same way, that’s a problem.”

“He does,” you say desperately.  “You’re just gonna have to trust me on that.  He hasn't done anything sketchy since we started dating, and believe me, I’ve been looking.”

“It ain’t that we don’t trust ya, Prefect,” Epel responds.  “It’s him we’re worryin’ about.”

You sigh.  “I get that, but we’re together now.  Could you guys play nice, just for my sake?”

The seven pairs share one more look.

“I’ll think about it.  Especially if he brings tuna.”

“Alright…”

“Sure.”

“Fiiiine.”

“Of course!”

“If you insist.”

“But if anything does happen, we’ll be here.”

“That’s all I'm asking,” you smile.  “Thanks, guys.”

Sure enough, one day passes without incident, then two, then three, and before you know it, Valentine’s Day rolls around.  And boy, have you been preparing for this day.

You’re armed and ready with chocolate.  So.  Much.  Chocolate.

Chocolates filled with caramel for your friends.  90% cocoa dark chocolate for other friends.  Hollow white chocolate eggs coated in a thin layer of milk chocolate and with a surprise toy inside (the best kind), for other other friends.  Slightly-botched-but-still-edible homemade chocolates for your distant acquaintances.  Severely-botched-so-you-leaned-into-it-and-added-laxatives chocolates for your enemies.

And last but far from least, homemade mushroom-shaped chocolates for the boyfriend, in four different flavours.

Once you've personally delivered your greater haul to the doors of each of your friends, all that’s left is Octavinelle, home of your ultimate recipient.  You find Azul and Floyd working in the Lounge—busy with the influx of customers expected during a Valentine’s Day promotional event on a weekend—and give them their gifts: a set of your finest, most potent laxative (jk.  or am i) chocolates for Azul, an assorted pack of novelty chocolates from Sam’s for Floyd.

As for Jade, he'd somehow managed to convince his housewarden into letting him take the day off.  The details aren’t worth fretting over: you’re simply grateful to have him to yourself today.

Funny enough, as you walk down the hall toward Jade’s room, it feels as if someone’s watching you.  But each time you turn, nothing’s there.  Hmm.

You tuck the box of chocolates coyly behind your back and tap your knuckles twice against the door.  He’s been waiting for you: if you couldn’t tell from the haste in which he opens the door, then the antsy little smile on his face would surely give it away.

“Hi, Jade.”

“Hello, my dear Prefect.  Do you have something for me?”

“Well, aren’t you cocky,” you grin, withdrawing the heart-shaped box from behind you and placing it in his waiting hands.  “Happy Valentine’s.”

“Happy Valentine’s,” he parrots, lifting the lid with a tiny gasp.  “Mushroom-shaped…?”

“Did I go overboard?  I almost put them in a mushroom-shaped box too, but I was worried you’d think it was Mushroom Day, not Valentine’s.  For the record, I know you’re more than just ‘mushroom man’, but—”

“It’s perfect.”

A cacophony of thumps and yelps from down the hall draws away your attention.

You sigh like a weary parent of seven when you spot them.  “I told them to behave—”

“It’s alright,” Jade chuckles, merely withdrawing into the room to grab a stack of… envelopes?  “Allow me to handle this.”

“Jade Leech, if you’re blackmailing my friends, I will fry you alive.”

“I'd do nothing of the sort!” he laughs, prying off the hand with which you'd subconsciously gripped his arm.  “No need to worry.  I’ll be back in just a moment.”

So you watch from the doorway as your boyfriend eerily approaches your dogpiled gaggle of idiots.  They’re too far and Jade’s voice too quiet for you to hear, but as the latter hands them the ominous envelopes, their feelings are clear as day.

You follow your friends’ journey of expressions, beginning with fear, morphing to confusion, then shock, and settling into joy before they roll off of each other and shuffle back down the hall with such excitement you’d think they won the lottery.  Ace even throws you a quick thumbs up.

Your eel returns with a satisfied smile, summoning a pouch that couldn’t fit in his pocket.  He presents it with a flourish: magical sparkles and pink hearts that float about like bubbles in the air.  “And for you.”

“Jade…”  You gingerly take the sachet and open it, revealing chocolates in your favourite flavour.  But that aside: “Did you just pay my friends a dowry?”

“My, such marital language!  I had no idea you’d set your sights so far ahead.”

Your blood runs cold.  Too much.  “Wait, I—Not like—!”

“To think that we haven’t even had our first kiss yet,” he prattles on, ignoring your protests completely.  “Marriage!  How scandalous, fufufu.”

Right.  It’s near impossible to weird out (or outweird) Jade Leech.

Your face contorts into a cringe, whether at his antics or at yourself for finding him even remotely charming, indeterminable.  “Alright, buddy.  I’m starting to think you’ll never experience either of those things.”

“And if it wasn’t enough to tease me with the dream of marriage, you threaten to deprive me of your affection.  Poor, unfortunate me, to have fallen for someone so cruel.  Boo hoo.”

Your grimace is impossible to maintain as his brows furrow and his lips press into a dramatic, irritatingly adorable pout.

His.

Lips.

…Nope.  You’re not about to reward him for his bullshit.

You press a chocolate into his mouth and nudge him away by the forehead.

“You sure live up to your name, Leech.”

“There’s no one I'd rather be stuck to,” he hums with his mouth full, “though I did intend for these chocolates to be eaten by you.”

If you tasted him now…

…Nope x2.

You stash away the sweets and leave, holding your hand out beside you until Jade inevitably catches up to you and slips his fingers into yours.

“Now this feels familiar, doesn’t it?”

You squeeze Jade’s mittened hand in silent agreement.  As you walk hand-in-hand through the harbour, you’re reminded of your first date in the Kingdom of Roses.  Though this time, instead of summer fare and games, it’s… lovey-dovey stuff.

Each shop has a Valentine’s promotional deal, game stalls host challenges for couples to test their bond, pop-up vendors sell charms for ‘everlasting love’.  And people actually showed up for this bogus.

You could’ve sworn there weren’t this many people on this tiny island, but everyone must’ve come up from RSA since they’re mushy like that (ew).  Can’t relate, you think, ogling your boyfriend whenever you think he’s not looking.  (He always is, to both your embarrassment and your pleasure.)

Jade gestures with your joined hands at a nearby booth.  “They’re giving out free lip balm at that booth there.”

“Free?”  Enough said.  “Lead the way.”

When you reach the front of the line, you realise that it’s not exactly for free, per se.

“So here’s how it works,” the brand ambassador explains.  “I’m going to give one of you a cotton swab with a secret flavour, and the other will have to correctly guess the flavour for you to get your free lip balms.  Sound good?”

The Chapstick Challenge.

“Excellent,” chirps your scheming boyfriend, clearly unsurprised by this information and far too pleased with himself.

“Uh huh,” you grumble, exercising your nastiest side-eye.

You snatch the cotton swab yourself before Jade gets any more ideas.  For a split second, you consider applying it to yourself… but no.

Grasping his chin with your free hand, you trace his lips with the applicator.  Frictionless, it glides over the peachy skin and leaves behind an even film of balm.

“You slimy eel,” you whisper, deep in concentration.  “You’re not chapped at all.”

Smug eyes are what you expect to see when you look up.  Instead, his eyes are blown wide and dazed.  Heh.

“Here goes!” you announce louder than needed.  Then, angling yourself to block the worker’s view, you bring your face ever closer to Jade’s, lips ever closer to his…

Just enough to catch a whiff of the balm.

You whip back around before your lips can touch.  “Lavender vanilla?”

“Yes, that’s right!  Here’s your prize!”

You’re forced to tug your eel by the hand to get him moving again.

“I’ve fallen for a tease,” he sighs after five minutes.

“Well I’ve fallen for a swindler,” you titter back.  “C’mon, my swindler, I know you’re hungry.  Let’s go get some food, hmm?”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Because Fate hates you, you happen to lead your boyfriend into a pasta restaurant where the owners greet you so warmly, you're now morally obligated to stay and order something.

And of course, because Cupid hates you too, this restaurant has a promotional deal: finish a bowl of one (1, singular) ultra long spaghetto with your significant other to get 30% off your meal.  Jade’s eyes regain their light (read: cunning gleam) upon hearing this.  You, on the other hand, do not want to have your first kiss over a literal noodle.

But 30% off the meal…  And the only conditions are that you finish in under five minutes and eat from one end of the noodle?

Of course you accept the challenge, to your eel’s poorly concealed excitement.

So the waiter brings out the manhole-cover-sized dish, Jade bites one end of the noodle, you the other, and the timer starts.

End held between your lips, you glance casually at the waiter, who stares back at you with bewilderment.  You glance back at Jade, who stares back at you with determination.  He’s already halfway through the pasta by the 1-minute mark.

You feel just a little bad when the intact end of the noodle slips from your lips, vacuumed straight into the maw of your resigned boyfriend.

“Uh, wow…!” the waiter nods, baffled.  “You finished in 2:11, so I guess that’s a success?”

“Sorry for being a poor sport,” you chuckle.  “I’m sure you guys expect your participants to kiss, but my boyfriend here is just ravenous today so I thought he’d appreciate the extra portion.”

“Oh, n-no, that's fine!  A lot of people try the challenge with their friends and we don't ask them to kiss, obviously,” the waiter rambles.  “Uh, I'm just shocked that he ate all that on his own… and so quickly?  It takes pairs at least four minutes!”

“And he’s still hungry, believe it or not!”  Being seated side-by-side, it’s easy to peck Jade on the cheek.  “Incredible, isn’t he?  I’m so lucky to have him.”  You pointedly play up the goo-goo eyes, amused at the way his eyes glaze over in defeat.

Of course you’d like to kiss him.

But so would he, and it’s good to make your eel work for what he wants, just once in a while.  Enrichment’s healthy!

Jade’s resolve is wavering just a little.

“Look over there, my loving Valentine,” he notes with sarcastic monotony, “it’s a kissing contest.”

Subtle.

“So it is.”

“I’d imagine it would be very cathartic to express one’s affection so freely.  Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would.”

He stops in front of you, eyeing your lips.  “Oya?  Then what are we waiting for?”

Smirking, you clasp your bare hands behind the eel’s neck; his amber eye shines ever brighter with hope.  But to his chagrin, your attention is pulled elsewhere.  “Wait, there’s a photo booth!”

“Ah.  I’ve heard about those.  I’ve still yet to try one.”

“There’s a first time for everything!” you pipe, beelining for the amenity.

It’s four photos to a strip and two copies are printed: you take one and sunnily slot the other between your eel’s frozen fingers.

The first photo is comedically tacky, as intended.  Your right and Jade’s left hands form the stiff, distinct shape of a heart; you don the most awkward grin you could muster, he wears his signature polite-and-nothing-more smile.  It looks like you’re both terrible actors being held at gunpoint to play the role of a lovey-dovey couple.

The second photo shows the aftermath of performing such a terrible (albeit deliberate) display: the left half blurred with candid laughter (yours) and the right half still and calm (Jade).  He’s smiling, genuinely, half-lidded eyes fondly trained on your dynamic visage.

The third photo is a snapshot summary of today.  Jade leans in toward you, his desires clear, and you press your fingers over his lips in a gentle rejection.  He looks at you with acceptance and affection; you look back with an amused grin (and equal fondness).

The fourth photo is Jade’s favourite.  Well, actually, he hasn't seen it yet.  But once he regains his senses, you have no doubt!

After all, it's the picture of your first kiss: chaste and sweet and picture-perfect.

You wake in the morning to a voice message from Floyd in the middle of the night, whining about how his brother is broken again; Jade won’t stop giggling and grinning in his sleep.  And sure enough, when the former swung his phone closer to the source of the sound…

“…mmm…again…fufufu…”

Cute.

Cute.

You make sure to download and back up the recording in at least five different locations, for safekeeping.

Stupid Ace jinxed you.

“He’s gonna be too busy being a vice-housewarden and thinking about his internship!”

That’s what Ace said back in September!

…Okay, maybe it’s not Ace’s fault.  But it’s also not Jade’s fault.  Nor is it yours.

It’s everything else’s fault.

The arrival of spring marks the beginning of a storm of projects, labs, and mock exams leading up to finals in June.  And on top of all that, your boyfriend has vice-housewarden duties and the Lounge and internship applications to worry about.

‘Worry’, of course, being relative; he seems to be managing just fine.  And that’s the worst part, ashamed as you are to admit it.

Because he’s fine without you.

Does he miss you even a fraction as much as you miss him?

Would he be just as happy if you’d never confessed to him?

Oh Seven.  If you’re like this already… how are you going to manage next year when you’re even farther apart?

You should be happy for him, happy that he’s doing well; you should have more faith in your relationship, be less insecure and clingy and insufferable.  But as the weeks pass and your paths cross less and less, catching the rare sight of him from across the hall feels more painful than it should.

You don’t tell Jade any of this; no need to make a mess of things when he’s got more important things to deal with.  At the very least, it can wait until after exams are done.

And things could always be worse!

Case in point: the annual Starsending ceremony being thrown into the mix.

First off, finals season and the weeks leading up to it are already stressful.  As fun as it is to wish upon a star, unfortunately, finishing that essay worth 35% and due in five hours might just take higher priority.

Plus, you'd completely forgotten this tradition existed.  It's only your second year in this world, after all, so excuse you for not being used to all the new customs.  You also didn’t make a wish last year, so the memory of the ceremony must've been thrown to the back of your mind—buried under all the overblots, perhaps!

It certainly didn’t help either to receive the reminder no more than a week before the ceremony.  The three unfortunate souls chosen to be Stargazers will have their work cut out for them.

And just who are the selected Stargazers?  (Take a guess!)  The horoscopes this year landed on November 5th—Jade and Floyd’s birthday—

and your birthday.  Congrats.

One after another, Crowley assigns you the position of Stargazer, the role of drummer in the ceremony itself, and the traditional Stargazer uniform (which is very… attention-grabbing).

“…Do I really have to wear this outside the ceremony?”

“Why, of course!  Haven’t you heard of the phrase, ‘dress for success’?” the Headmage replies with theatrical enthusiasm, then sobers.  “A Stargazer out of uniform would leave a lasting bad impression.  I'd be sure not to forget it.”

You shudder.

By the time you’ve gotten changed and swapped Grim’s ribbon to match, Jade has already magically donned his own uniform, and Floyd is… nowhere to be found.  No surprises there.

But back to Jade: your eyes skim right over the uniform itself and hone in on b a r e   s h o u l d e r s .

The muscles flex, rolling back in a smooth wave, taunting.

“My,” Jade giggles coyly behind his naked hand, “your gawking has me feeling incredibly flustered.”

Voiceless, you tug the dropped sleeves of his cape up and over the curve of his shoulders; they fall helplessly back down to their original position, ornate embroidery framing flawless skin.  Damn it.

The eel cocks his head, chin resting against loose fist.  “Is there something wrong with my appearance?” he coos, like he doesn’t already know.

You lean forward, muffling your exasperated groan in layers of (boyfriend) material.  Your heart has been aching lately, but the sweetness in Jade’s chuckle and the way he cradles your head against him soothes the sting. 

Through luck and madness, you somehow survive.  Three unit tests, an alchemy practical, Starsending ceremony rehearsals, the collection of hundreds of Wishing Stars, and you’re still alive.

Between your reputation (respected as the dependable Prefect and/or feared as Jade Leech’s partner) and threats incentives (brandishing Grim as a flamethrower and/or mentioning your boyfriend by name), the latter went smoother than you’d expected.

The process is simple: confront the target, demand they declare their wish, witness their Wishing Star light up with magic, collect it, and hang it up on the designated tree behind the school.

By Friday, all the stars have been collected and hung but Jade’s; a total happenstance—or so you thought.  He clearly had different plans.

When the eel opens his door to you the next morning, you're hit with a small but uncharacteristic bout of fear.

“…Jade.”

“Yes, my star?”

“Seven,” you flinch at the new, festive pet name, and his gleaming eyes crinkle into delighted crescent moons.  But nevermind the nickname, “Why are you wearing that?”

The ceremonial clothes.  Pretty shoulders out there for all (you) to see.

“To collect your Wishing Star, of course.”

“No,” you drawl incredulously, “I’m collecting your star.”

Silence from Jade; the cattish grin on his face speaks for itself: Plans change.

You squint back.  “Well, Floyd took my wish already.”

He hums, unconvinced.  “Your wish, or Grim’s wish?  I’m aware that the Headmage provided only one Wishing Star to share between you.”

“It’s worth more to him than to me.  I don't mind.”

“I do.”  He slips a jagged weight into your open palm, supporting your hand with his own.  “Make your wish.  We’ll light it with my magic.”

Void of magic, the magestone—Jade’s Wishing Star—is dark save for the hairline veins, smoky white, running through the mineral like rippling seafoam.  Each of the uneven edges presses a soothing kiss to the nerves in your fingers.

A dismissive chuckle breezes past your teeth.  Laying your heart bare for a casual tradition isn’t exactly an appealing idea.  A throwaway, then: “I wish you’d wear normal clothes.”

The dusky glasslike stone stays unlit.

Jade titters, “Come now, don't waste our wish.”

“What do you mean?  That’s what I want.”

He tips your chin to meet his eyes.  “It’d be a shame if we resorted to my unique magic to know your true wish.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t,” he concedes, returning his hand to cradle yours.  “I’ll be saving that for a more important question.”

You get a rush of tingles for some indiscernible reason.  “Ominous,” you laugh.

He sighs sweetly.  Such softness in his gaze, you’d think he was looking at a particularly freaky mushroom but no, he’s looking at you.

Oh.  It's the way he looks at you that gives you the tingles.  And also maybe the way he touches you.  And—

Great Seven, you've been dating this eel for almost a year now; shouldn't you be less lovesick by now?  Less distraught when you're apart?  Less smitten by his mere existence?

This whole tradition, these Wishing Stars are purely symbolic.  It won’t matter whether you wish to grow another 20 centimetres in height, or to do well in your finals, or for Jade to cover his damn shoulders.  A silly wish won't overwrite reality.

But something about him makes you want to wish wholeheartedly anyway.

What to wish for, though?

‘For your internship to be fruitful’?  Only a fraction of what you truly want.

‘To live the rest of my life in your arms’?  …Tone it down a notch, pal.

‘That Azul would stop giving you so many shifts at the Lounge’?  Okay, now you’re just griping.

You sigh, “I don’t know how to word it.”

“Is that so?” he hums with an impish grin, removing his hands.  “Or are you simply self-censoring?

“Would it help if I told you that I love you?  Or that I suffer in your absence?”

´(º—º)`

Kaput! goes your heart, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH goes your brain.

“Jade, what—”

“I suppose I’ll suggest something, then,” he interrupts.  “Do let me know if I’m on the wrong track.

“‘We wish for the next year to be kind to us, and for any time we spend apart to pass in the blink of an eye.’  Is that alright?”

With wide eyes, you nod.

“Wonderful.”  He places his hands back around yours and recites the wish; this time, the star sparks alight like striking a match.  You’ve watched this process over a hundred times now, but it feels different this time: more brilliant, more meaningful.

The glowing centre of the magestone shines gold like Jade’s left eye, and at the pointed edges, fades into a soothing teal the same soothing teal as Jade’s hair.  Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

You open your mouth.  “Jade—”

“Shall we go hang this—”

“Shush for just a second, will you?!” you bark, shaking him like a broken vending machine by the lapels of his cape; obediently, his mouth snaps shut.  “We’re not just breezing by that!”

“…by what?” your eel feigns innocence.

Even as you glare at him—him with his knowing, expectant, self-satisfied little smile (stupid, stupid, stupid)—you can’t even manage to find him any less adorable.

“I hate you,” you lie, but the sweet kisses you press to his cheeks, his nose, his forehead each confess I love you, I love you, I love you.

 Just before meeting his, your lips bespeak your true reply: “I love you too.”

Crowley’s year-end homily feels shorter this time; maybe that’s because you now have the clarity to actually listen.  He probably reuses the same script every year, not that it's particularly remarkable: “What a pleasure it’s been to foster the academic progress of so many fledging mages!” and “This year has been fruitful for all of us!” and whatnot.

With the conclusion of the ceremony, you scoop Grim up and follow the flow with your clump of friends, yelling to each other about your summer plans as to be heard through the raucous crowd.

When you spot your boyfriend waiting for you in the courtyard and announce, “Bye, guys!  Have a good summer!” your friends are all sunny smiles and laughs.  Not a hint of stress to be found in your group, no concerns for your judgement, no suggestions or offers for alternative plans. Even Grim, who’s coming with you, has (close to) no complaints.

“Have a good summer,” they simply parrot, “invite us over sometime!”

One year ago, you confessed to Jade Leech.  You did it with logic at heart, but faulty logic in practice.

And yet as he peers back at you with adoration in his eyes, one hand jingling a pair of keys to a flat—to your flat in Ultramarine City—and the other hand outstretched for you to take, you can’t help but wonder why you ever doubted this contingency at all.

initial concept inspired by schoenpepper’s “Jade Leech and the Three Breakups” (deactivated; reblog to view the full fic) and cannedpickledpeaches’ “Sad Poems but I Choose to Interpret Them as Happy” :)  honourable mention to rel124c41’s many masterful fics (like this one, this one, and these ones) which simultaneously fed and fuelled my cravings for jade :’0  sorry for being so annoying but her works were genuinely the biggest reason i could finish this mess with any sanity remaining whatsoever

edit: oh my god i forgot to fix the part after the kiss where it's implied jade and floyd are still sleeping in the same bedroom. FUCK. please pretend one of the following:

a) floyd felt like sleeping over and so jade let him stay

b) floyd barged into jade's room at 2 am and the latter slept through it

c) floyd hears him through the walls because jade is in fact yelling in his sleep, which you somehow find "cute" (this one's my favourite)

[totallyjadedd]

hi... i see u in my notifs

hi :)

[azwachaudharysblog]

Hello hello! New fan here! I lovee your works and I have a couple of questions and requests for you :) 

May I ask that you share your works onto AO3 so we could see all your writings? I would hate that such immaculate works be lost in the hole that is tumblr’s search feature. Making a master list for all your works would take much more time than AO3’s organizing but whatever you decide is lovely to me. I just thought I’d put it out there. Either way I love indulging on all you have to say <3

My second question is, could I request a Jade Leech fic? He’s one of my favorites and I’d love to hear your thoughts on his characterization!

I hope you have a wonderful day!! <33

I will try AO3 out. May the Lord have mercy and drop me a laptop from above. I want to know if there is any specific thing I need to be aware of when it comes to AO3. Like anything that could get my account banned or terminated, like it did here once on tumblr. I have to this day not recovered from that since I had a long fic written there (still incomplete though) of us as an NPC in twst and now I have lost it. So I do not want my effort to go to waste since there are like 750+ posts here on tumblr that make up my fics of twst.

Do you want me to tag you in on all of my Jade leech fics. I can atleast do that much on my phone.

As for your request, I hope you enjoy the following:

My take on Jade Leech’s characterization

This is where I get a little feral, so buckle up:

Jade isn’t cruel for cruelty’s sake—he’s curious. People are ecosystems to him.

He enjoys discomfort, but more in the way a scientist enjoys watching a reaction, not a sadist twisting a knife.

His politeness is real, but it’s also armor. You never see the whole him unless he allows it.

Unlike Floyd, whose emotions are loud and impulsive, Jade’s are deep, slow, and intentional.

He’s incredibly self-aware. He knows he’s unsettling—and sometimes he leans into that because it gives him control.

When Jade likes someone:

He observes first. For a long time.

He engineers “coincidences.”

He tests boundaries in small, deniable ways.

And if he decides you’re his, it’s not possessive in a loud way—it’s inevitable.

There’s also a quiet sincerity under all that menace. If Jade commits, it’s not a game anymore. He doesn’t fall often—but when he does, it’s deep, consuming, and very difficult to escape (not that he’d phrase it like that 😌).

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Part 1 — The Shape of Curiosity

A Jade Leech character study, POV

People often mistake politeness for honesty.

I do not blame them. It is an easy mistake to make—one I encourage, gently, with a smile and an attentive tilt of the head. Most creatures relax when they believe they understand the rules of engagement. Courtesy suggests predictability. Predictability suggests safety.

Neither is guaranteed.

Azul once remarked—half in jest, half in irritation—that I am “the most difficult to read of the three of us.” Floyd laughed, of course. I did not correct him. There was no need. Azul’s discomfort is always most educational when left undisturbed.

I am readable, if one knows what to look for. The issue is that most people insist on reading faces when they should be observing patterns.

I do not emote poorly. I emote selectively.

There is a difference.

Observation as Instinct

In the sea, survival depends on awareness. Not merely strength or speed—though Floyd excels at both—but on recognizing shifts in current, changes in pressure, the subtle wrongness that precedes danger. A creature that fails to notice such things does not last long enough to regret it.

That instinct followed me onto land.

Night Raven College is a fascinating environment: artificially contained, aggressively competitive, and brimming with young magicians who believe power is something loudly demonstrated rather than quietly applied. They posture. They threaten. They overextend.

I watch.

Watching costs nothing and yields everything.

From the first day, I learned which students crave approval, which ones mistake fear for respect, which ones fold under scrutiny and which grow sharper. I learned which professors tolerate defiance and which punish it selectively. I learned how long it takes for gossip to spread, how quickly reputations are made and unmade, and how readily people will offer secrets if you simply listen without judgment.

People like to talk. Especially when they think they are being understood.

I am very good at understanding.

The Myth of Sadism

There is a persistent rumor—passed in whispers between students, exaggerated with each retelling—that I enjoy others’ suffering.

This is untrue.

Suffering, in itself, is dull. Prolonged misery is repetitive. Predictable. A stimulus that fails to evolve quickly loses its interest.

What I enjoy is reaction.

The precise moment when a person realizes the situation they are in is not the one they assumed. The tightening of posture. The recalibration of tone. The eyes darting, searching for exits—literal or conversational.

That moment is honest.

When people are comfortable, they lie without thinking. When they are unsettled, they reveal themselves.

I do not create discomfort indiscriminately. That would be wasteful. I introduce variables and observe outcomes. If discomfort arises, it is a byproduct—not the objective.

Though I will admit… I do not rush to alleviate it.

Floyd

Floyd is honest in a way people rarely appreciate.

His moods are vast, tidal things. When he is pleased, the world feels it. When he is bored, everything suffers. There is no deception in him—only scale.

I have never felt the need to restrain him unless circumstances demanded it. Floyd does not require guidance; he requires containment. Like a storm system, he must be redirected rather than opposed.

People fear him because he is loud.

They should fear him because he is sincere.

Azul

Azul, on the other hand, is an ongoing experiment.

He believes control is something that can be accumulated, quantified, documented in contracts and clauses. He is not entirely wrong. Structure is power—especially on land, where systems replace strength.

But Azul forgets something vital: systems are only as stable as the people maintaining them.

This is where Floyd and I come in.

I provide Azul with perspective. Floyd provides consequence.

It is an effective arrangement.

On Being Underestimated

It is remarkable how often I am dismissed as a subordinate.

Azul speaks. Floyd acts. I smile and agree.

People assume that silence implies passivity. That agreement implies loyalty rather than strategy. That politeness implies restraint.

They mistake my lack of urgency for lack of ambition.

I have ambition. I simply prefer ambitions that can be sustained.

Power that must be asserted constantly is exhausting. Power that is assumed operates indefinitely.

I have no interest in ruling the room. I am far more content shaping the conditions under which others do so.

Land Is Noisy

The land is loud in ways the sea never was.

Voices overlap. Emotions spill. People announce themselves constantly, as though afraid of vanishing if they do not.

In the sea, presence is felt before it is seen. Pressure changes. Currents shift. Silence means something.

On land, silence unnerves people.

I find that useful.

When I pause before responding, others rush to fill the gap. When I listen without reacting, they elaborate. When I ask a gentle, well-placed question, they often tell me far more than they intended.

Conversation is not an exchange—it is a probe.

Curiosity

If I were forced to name my defining trait, it would not be cruelty, nor manipulation, nor ambition.

It would be curiosity.

I am endlessly fascinated by deviation. By the moment someone behaves contrary to expectation. By anomalies that resist categorization.

Most people are terribly consistent once you know their incentives.

The rare ones are not.

Those are the ones worth watching.

You

I noticed you because you did not perform.

That may sound insignificant, but in an environment like Night Raven College, it is almost unheard of. Everyone here is attempting to be something: impressive, intimidating, indispensable, untouchable.

You were… present.

You reacted, but you did not posture. You listened, but you did not angle for advantage. You adapted, but you did not erase yourself in the process.

This made you difficult to predict.

I enjoy difficulty.

Interest Is a Process

Affection, for me, is not immediate. It is accretive.

I observe patterns. I test variables. I introduce minor stressors and note the response. I catalog preferences, boundaries, contradictions.

It is not intentional cruelty—it is due diligence.

Attachment without understanding is reckless. I do not invest recklessly.

When I speak to you, I am not merely conversing. I am cross-referencing. Tone against content. Reaction against context. What you say versus what you avoid.

You pass more tests than you fail.

That is… unusual.

The Problem With Control

There is a misconception that I seek control over people.

Control is inefficient.

What I seek is alignment.

A controlled person resists internally. An aligned person moves willingly in the desired direction, believing it to be their own choice.

This is why overt coercion bores me. Why threats feel crude. Why manipulation, when required, is most effective when it goes unnoticed.

I do not want obedience.

I want consent, even if it is given without full awareness of what is being consented to.

When Curiosity Becomes Risk

There is, however, a danger in prolonged observation.

The longer one watches a subject, the more variables accumulate. The more difficult it becomes to remain detached. Patterns begin to feel familiar. Familiarity invites preference. Preference invites bias.

Bias clouds judgment.

I am aware of this.

Which is why I am cautious with you.

You complicate my objectivity.

Still Waters

People often say that still waters run deep.

They rarely consider what lives in that depth.

The sea taught me patience. Time is abundant when one does not fear silence. The land taught me strategy. Noise can be weaponized.

You have taught me something else entirely.

That curiosity, left unchecked, can become something far less neutral.

Something that watches not to understand—

—but to remain close.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 2 — The Depths That Answer Back

A Jade Leech character study, POV

There is a point, in any prolonged observation, where the observer must acknowledge the influence of their own presence.

I reached that point with you later than I should have.

It was subtle at first. A shift in my attention—lingering longer than necessary. A recalibration of priorities—your presence factoring into decisions that should have been purely logistical. I told myself it was efficiency. That familiarity reduced unpredictability. That understanding you made outcomes smoother.

All technically true.

None sufficient.

The Lie of Detachment

I have always prided myself on my ability to remain detached. To watch without interfering. To intervene without becoming involved.

That pride was misplaced.

Detachment is not a natural state—it is a maintained one. A constant adjustment, like holding one’s breath underwater. You can do it for a time, but eventually your body demands air.

I did not notice when I began surfacing.

When Observation Becomes Anticipation

I began anticipating you.

Your reactions no longer surprised me, but neither did they bore me. I found comfort in their consistency, interest in their deviations. I noticed when your tone changed, when your energy dipped, when your attention wandered.

This was not part of my initial assessment.

I adjusted my schedule—slightly—to intersect with yours. Chose seating arrangements that allowed unobtrusive proximity. Engineered encounters plausible enough to deny even to myself.

I told myself it was habit.

I have many habits.

Awareness Is Not Immunity

Self-awareness is often mistaken for protection.

I am keenly aware of my own tendencies. Of how easily curiosity becomes fixation. Of how observation slides into possession if left unexamined.

Knowing this did not stop it.

It only made me quieter about it.

You as a Variable

You are not oblivious.

That was another miscalculation.

You noticed the attention—not immediately, but eventually. The way my gaze lingered a second too long. The way conversations subtly oriented themselves around you. The way I listened—not passively, but with intent.

You did not confront me.

You adapted.

That, more than anything, unsettled me.

Most people react defensively when they realize they are being studied. They withdraw, perform, or attempt to seize control of the narrative.

You did none of these.

Instead, you met my attention with your own.

Not aggressively. Not submissively.

Curiously.

The Mutual Gaze

There is something deeply dangerous about being observed by someone who understands what it means to observe.

You began asking me questions—not invasive ones, but precise. Questions that acknowledged my interests without flattering them. That invited elaboration without demanding it.

You listened as I do.

Carefully. Completely.

It is… rare, to be afforded that courtesy.

I allowed myself to answer more honestly than intended.

The Shape of Affection

Affection, I have learned, is not always warmth.

Sometimes it is focus.

Sometimes it is restraint.

Sometimes it is the deliberate choice not to exploit every vulnerability one has cataloged.

I know how to unsettle you. I know how to steer your emotions, how to push and pull until you react exactly as predicted.

I do not.

That is how I know this is no longer an experiment.

Boundaries

You have boundaries.

This should not have surprised me, but it did—because they are not defensive ones. They are quiet, firm, and consistent. You do not announce them. You do not weaponize them.

You simply exist within them.

I tested them once.

A mild pressure. A conversational nudge. Something deniable.

You noticed immediately.

You did not recoil.

You held your ground.

I withdrew.

Not because I had to.

Because I wanted to.

The Difference Between Hunger and Choice

In the sea, hunger dictates behavior. There is no moral weight to it—only necessity.

On land, desire is framed as indulgence. As something to be justified or restrained.

What I feel toward you is neither.

It is not hunger.

It is choice.

Every day, I choose not to escalate. Not to corner. Not to claim. I choose patience not because I lack opportunity—but because I respect the ecosystem we have formed.

Predators who disrupt their environment too aggressively eventually starve.

I have always understood this.

Vulnerability Is a Risk I Take Willingly

There are things I do not share.

Not with Azul, who would catalogue them. Not with Floyd, who would respond emotionally. Not with anyone who might mistake them for leverage.

I share some of them with you.

Not because you asked.

Because you did not.

Trust, I have discovered, is not the absence of threat—it is the belief that one will not be used.

I believe that of you.

That belief is… precarious.

The Quiet Fear

There is a fear I do not articulate.

That if I allow myself to want you openly, I will lose the careful balance I have cultivated. That I will become predictable. That I will choose proximity over perspective.

That I will care more about your presence than the integrity of my observation.

This fear does not stop me.

It informs me.

If I Were Cruel

If I were cruel, I would accelerate this.

I would isolate you socially, subtly. Encourage reliance. Make myself indispensable. Ensure that when you think of stability, you think of me.

I know how.

I do not.

That restraint costs me more than you realize.

What It Means to Be Chosen

I do not fall in love the way humans describe it.

I do not lose myself.

I decide.

I decide that the risks are acceptable. That the variables are worth the instability. That the potential loss is outweighed by the depth of engagement.

I have decided that about you.

This does not mean I will pursue you recklessly. It does not mean I will demand reciprocation.

It means that if you step closer—

I will not step away.

Still Waters, Answering Back

You once asked me why I enjoy the sea despite living on land.

I told you it was peaceful.

That was incomplete.

The sea does not demand performance. It does not misinterpret silence. It does not fear depth.

Neither do you.

Perhaps that is why I feel most honest around you.

Not safe.

Honest.

The Truth, Unvarnished

If you remain at my side, I will watch you.

Not to dissect.

Not to control.

But to understand you as thoroughly as I am able—knowing that I will never fully succeed.

And if you leave—

I will let you.

Not because it does not matter.

But because choice, freely made, is the only thing I respect.

Curiosity brought me to you.

Affection keeps me here.

And for the first time, I find myself wondering—

not what you will do next,

but whether you will choose to stay beneath the surface with me,

where still waters do not merely hide depths—

they answer back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Still Waters, Observed

A connected fic — external POV

Jade Leech was very good at being where people expected him to be.

The Lounge at peak hours. The corridors between classes. Azul’s side during negotiations, Floyd’s shadow when trouble seemed imminent. He moved through Night Raven College with an ease that suggested predictability, a comforting sense of order.

You noticed, eventually, that this was an illusion.

The first time it struck you was not dramatic. No sharp exchange, no threat wrapped in a smile. Just a moment of dissonance—Jade standing at his usual post near the Lounge entrance, hands folded neatly behind his back, posture impeccable.

And yet, when you entered, his attention shifted.

Not openly. Not rudely. His smile did not change, nor did his greeting. But something in the angle of his gaze adjusted, tracking you with a precision that lingered just a beat longer than courtesy required.

You felt it like pressure.

The Thing About Jade Leech

People spoke about Jade in fragments.

The polite one. The scary one if you get on his bad side. The one who smiles while Floyd breaks your arm.

None of these descriptions were wrong. They were simply incomplete.

Jade did nothing without intention. Even stillness, you were beginning to realize, was a form of action for him.

Proximity

Your interactions with Jade were rarely private.

That, too, seemed intentional.

He spoke to you in shared spaces, during group conversations, amid the low hum of the Lounge or the ambient noise of campus life. It made his attention deniable—easy to explain away as coincidence or courtesy.

Yet somehow, conversations bent toward you.

A question directed broadly would end with his gaze on you. A pause in discussion would settle until you responded. When you spoke, Jade listened with an attentiveness that made others unconsciously defer.

Azul noticed. You could tell by the tightening of his smile, the way his eyes flicked between you and Jade as if recalculating an equation that had gained an unexpected variable.

Floyd noticed too—but Floyd noticed everything in his own chaotic way.

“Oooh,” Floyd sing-songed once, leaning heavily across a table and peering at you upside down. “Jade, you like ‘em, huh?”

The Lounge went quiet.

Jade smiled.

“My, Floyd,” he said mildly. “What an imprecise statement.”

Floyd laughed, sharp and delighted, and the moment passed.

But Jade’s gaze found you again.

Unmoved. Undeniable.

Attention as Gravity

It was difficult to articulate what changed.

Jade did not hover. He did not intrude. He did not single you out in ways that would draw overt scrutiny. If anything, his behavior remained impeccably polite.

And yet—

If you arrived early, he seemed to already be there. If you lingered, he did not rush you. If you withdrew, he noticed.

Once, when you were unusually quiet, Jade handed you a drink—your usual order—without asking.

“You seem distracted,” he observed calmly.

It was not a question.

You stared at the glass, then at him. “Do I?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Mm. Perhaps only to those who pay attention.”

It should have unsettled you.

Instead, it felt like being seen through clear water—no distortion, no embellishment.

Just depth.

The Test You Didn’t Know You Passed

Jade watched you the way one might watch the tide.

Patiently. Without urgency.

When rumors circulated about Azul’s contracts, he did not ask your opinion—but he noted your reactions. When Floyd instigated chaos, Jade tracked whether you flinched, laughed, or intervened.

You were not immune to fear. That was important.

But you did not perform it.

Once, during a negotiation gone sour, a student snapped at Jade—voice raised, accusations tumbling out in a desperate bid for control.

You intervened.

Not forcefully. Not dramatically.

You simply addressed the issue at hand, redirecting the conversation with a calm that cut through the tension. You did not look to Jade for approval. You did not seek protection.

The student backed down.

Jade said nothing.

Later, as you left the Lounge, he fell into step beside you.

“That was considerate,” he said.

“Of me?” you asked.

“Of everyone,” he replied.

The approval in his tone was subtle—but unmistakable.

Others Begin to Notice

It was impossible to spend time around Jade without becoming aware of the effect he had on people.

Students grew nervous under his gaze. Conversations faltered. Even professors treated him with a careful neutrality that suggested experience.

You did not.

That, apparently, was the problem.

“You shouldn’t trust him,” someone warned you once, voice hushed and urgent. “Jade Leech doesn’t do anything without a reason.”

You believed them.

You simply didn’t see why that had to be a threat.

Boundaries, Acknowledged

The moment that defined everything came quietly.

Jade pushed—just slightly.

A question framed as idle curiosity. A hypothetical scenario with personal implications. A conversational turn that nudged against something private.

You noticed immediately.

You met his gaze and said, calmly, “I’m not answering that.”

There was no accusation in your voice. No defensiveness.

Just a boundary.

For the first time since you’d known him, Jade paused.

Not long. Not visibly.

But enough.

“Of course,” he said, smoothly. “My apologies.”

He did not circle back. He did not press later. He did not reference it again.

From that day on, something shifted.

His attention did not lessen—but it sharpened.

What It Means When Jade Chooses

Jade Leech was many things: observant, strategic, unsettlingly perceptive.

He was not careless.

The fact that he continued to stand beside you—openly, now, rather than incidentally—meant something. The fact that he did not exploit what he knew, did not isolate you, did not claim you in ways that would have been easy and nearly invisible—

That meant more.

When people asked what you were to him, Jade answered honestly.

“A valued presence,” he would say, smiling.

And if they pressed—

“Someone who chose to stay.”

Still Waters

Sometimes, late in the evening, when the Lounge was quiet and the world felt distant, you would find Jade gazing out at nothing in particular.

If you joined him, he did not speak unless you did.

If you left, he did not follow.

The choice was always yours.

That, more than any threat or promise, told you exactly how dangerous he was—

and exactly how sincere.

Because Jade Leech could have pulled you under without effort.

Instead, he waited.

And in the stillness between you, something vast and watchful stirred—not to consume, but to answer.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Azul Ashengrotto Notices

Azul noticed three things in quick succession.

First: Jade stopped offering suggestions regarding you.

Second: Jade stopped correcting you.

Third—and this was the most alarming—Jade began deferring.

It was subtle. Jade never deferred loudly. He didn’t ask your opinion outright or reposition himself behind you like a bodyguard. Instead, during conversations, he paused. Waited. Allowed space for you to speak first.

That alone was unusual.

Jade Leech did not wait unless waiting served a purpose.

Azul watched it happen during a Lounge discussion—an issue with suppliers, minor but irritating. Azul had already decided the outcome. Jade, standing at his side as always, should have reinforced it. That was the pattern.

Instead, Jade glanced at you.

Just once.

Not a prompt. Not a command.

An allowance.

You spoke. Calmly. Sensibly. You suggested an alternative Azul hadn’t considered—not because it was clever, but because it was stable.

Jade nodded.

“I believe that would be acceptable,” he said.

Not brilliant. Not strategic.

Acceptable.

Azul felt something cold settle in his stomach.

Later, when the Lounge was quieter, Azul confronted him.

“You’re indulging them,” he said lightly, stirring his drink. “That’s unlike you.”

Jade smiled, serene as ever. “Am I?”

“Yes,” Azul said, sharper now. “You’ve stopped testing them.”

Jade’s smile did not falter—but something behind it sharpened.

“On the contrary,” he replied. “I’ve concluded my assessment.”

Azul’s grip tightened on his glass. “And?”

Jade met his gaze fully.

“They chose freely.”

Azul understood then.

Not ownership. Not leverage. Not manipulation.

Choice.

Azul looked away first.

Floyd Leech Notices

Floyd noticed because Jade stopped being fun about it.

That was the thing.

Jade still smiled. Still chatted. Still poked at people’s sore spots with that polite little twist of the knife Floyd loved to watch.

Just not around you.

Around you, Jade was… boring.

Steady. Calm. Predictable in the worst possible way.

Floyd hated predictable.

So one day, he tried something.

He loomed too close. Leaned over you with that sharp-toothed grin. Let his magic prickle just enough to make the air uncomfortable.

You didn’t flinch.

You didn’t smile either.

You just looked at him and said, “Back up.”

Floyd laughed—big, bright, dangerous.

“Ooooh? Or what?”

Jade spoke.

“Floyd.”

Not loud. Not angry. Just absolute.

Floyd froze.

That didn’t happen. Ever.

Jade’s hand rested on Floyd’s shoulder—not restraining, not threatening.

Final.

Floyd straightened slowly, eyes sliding sideways to his twin.

Jade was still smiling.

But his eyes were deep. Dark. Focused in a way Floyd only ever saw when something important was on the line.

“Tch,” Floyd clicked his tongue. “Lame.”

He backed off.

Later, when they were alone, Floyd squinted at him.

“You picked ‘em,” he said.

Jade hummed. Noncommittal.

Floyd grinned, sharp and knowing. “Huh. Guess that’s that, then.”

“Yes,” Jade replied.

Floyd laughed again—but softer this time.

“Hope they know,” he said. “You don’t do halfway.”

Jade’s smile curved—slow, genuine, dangerous.

“They do,” he said.

And for once, Floyd believed him.

[fried-rice-cake]

I've been so obsessed with these silly freaks + their human forms as well (w/ my personal hcs hehehe)

[fuyufriedeggs]

for @totallyjadedd <3

jadepenn headcanons !

notes ; i smuggled this out of solitary confinement since,, yk, yaoi time isn't until wednesdays,, anyways another one based off of vibes wahoo!!

jade makes a point to eat seafood around penn knowing he doesn't like it and acts like penn's saying he doesn't like him specifically

they share an account for paid services too cus penn's a cheapskate

following the gag that penn never speaks, jade can read penn's face and somehow translate entire sentences

"..." "hey he asked for no pickles"

jade can somehow decipher what the hell a “double-sided lopsided flat hole bar” is but he makes a point not to be helpful and tell other people what penn needs from the toolbox - he's the kind of guy to purposely give penn a pipe bomb instead of a wrench (/j)

jade looks at penn like he looks at mushrooms and everyone thinks he's absolutely insane for it. maybe he documents every time penn speaks because he does so once in a blue moon like his voice is being paywalled

voiceless and faceless jokes aside he probably teases the hell out of penn when they do anything coupley

the type of guys to hold hands under the table

yapper x listener type beat because i feel like jade can't shut the hell up about mushrooms when you get him going with the right question

jade on occasion likes to bite penn in annoying places like the side of his neck or right at the cuff of his sleeves

he also collects trinkets that reminds him of him, namely mushroom related paraphernalia that he says looks like penn but they really don't except they do to jade's really niche knowledge - ie a shroom that has the shape of penn's hair or the way his name sounds

they sleep face to face i can't elaborate i just feel it

yaoi nods nods nods (explodes them)

[silfuville]

It’s yaoi wednesday Jinny where’s silfu

here's your yaoi slop

(1,089 words of an average after class excursion with silfu)

.

.

The bushes rustle with the weight of two people combined, both Silver and Fuyu lingering within the foliage for the prime sightseeing spot.

Now, normally, after school, teenagers would typically do teenager things like return to their dorms and game or something. Or perhaps go to Foothill town and spend their money on things they'll never use but insist they need.

However, once classes are out, the couple like to observe.

Considering the fact that there isn't anything new to see in Night Raven College other than the same old architecture Crowley hasn't refurbished in forever, what exactly is there to look at?

People.

Silver thinks it's a little creepy. Well, it should be creepy, but his boyfriend's interest in day to day affairs is… endearing, with the way he points out daily mannerisms and routine as if they were some special once in a lifetime event. Someone trips and looks around for any witnesses. Fuyu writes it down, as said witness. He turns to Silver for approval. Silver is confused and nods. The cycle goes on.

Maybe he thinks it's endearing how Fuyu thinks his opinions are important enough that his little hobby now also revolves around his input as well.

His attention's taken by a quiet gasp, along with chartreuse stained fingertips tugging at his uniform sleeve. It pulls him out of his half-awake daze, teetering on the edge of the lucid world and sleep (something he's grateful for; falling asleep would be awfully troublesome here and he wouldn't like to inconvenience Fuyu).

"Wha…" Silver's voice falls quiet as Fuyu mimes out a shushing motion, pulling back leaves and branches for a better look at the new pair traipsing along the cobbled sidewalk. They're close. A couple… a familiar couple. "Is that the other prefect?"

There's three— no, four Ramshackle prefects. This awfully shy, cobalt-haired youth named Caderi stumbled out of the mirror just a week ago, and was promptly dumped into Fuyu's dorm with the other two he arrived with: Kanae, a very pink girl around Fuyu's height, and Penn, a much taller boy he doesn't think he's ever heard the voice of.

"Mhm," Fuyu hums in his own form of confirmation, squinting at the flesh colored blobs in the distance. "Kanae, and that small crimson specimen she's awfully taken with."

(Silver decidedly ignores the description of specimen, as he always has thus far)

Silver recognizes the red vest, accompanying the lighter pink, seemingly just strolling and having a chat. It feels as if they're intruding on a private moment, judging from the uncharacteristic fondness on the Heartslabyul housewarden's face.

Well, they are. That's the whole point of this sightseeing excursion. Fuyu doesn't seem to think there's anything wrong with it.

"… Perhaps we should go somewhere else," Silver suggests, turning to watch Fuyu's expressions. They look, for lack of better word, locked in. "We've been here around an hour. If we go now, we can make it to the stables before curfew."

He knows the magic words. Stable. It's no secret that Fuyu's second true love (Silver hopes he's the first) is Samson. Hell, the steed's the reason they even met in the first place, with the shorter male showing interest in his horse and promptly having his face kicked in with his eccentric behavior.

Like clockwork, Fuyu turns to Silver so quickly he fears he might suffer from whiplash, stars dancing in his vibrant dragonfruit eyes as if daring the other boy to take back his offer. His excitement's contagious, prompting a soft smile from the silver haired as well.

"Let's go." They say without arguement, standing abruptly from the bush.

Of course, it draws attention, and they now have to flee from a red-faced Riddle Rosehearts while the enabler Kanae sits back and watches them run. Goddamn traitor.

Fuyu's hand is just slightly smaller than his own calloused palms, though Silver has no time to dwell on it as he tugs him along. He's become somewhat of an expert in fleeing due to their 'dates'. Neither of them are all that discreet, after all, and Silver's definitely the more athletic of the duo.

Riddle's misleadingly quick— Silver swiftly yanks Fuyu closer with an apology in his head and steals him off his feet, heart pounding in protest and exhileration as his shoes beat against the grass. Fuyu certainly doesn't seem to mind the manhandling, enjoyment clear on his face as he laughs.

Silver's feet burn as they transition to the cobblestone, what with loafers not exactly being built for running (not to mention the added weight at his front swaying his center of gravity) — the adrenaline's almost refreshing, with the same rush he gets while training to keep himself awake. Maybe he should run with Fuyu more often.

He ducks into the botanical gardens, carefully setting Fuyu down by the packed dirt behind the dense foliage. The latter's smothering his giggling within his sleeves, shoulder to shoulder with the pale-haired boy.

There's something unsettling about Silver's boyfriend, with the way little to no heat emanates from his skin. It's as if his presence is meant to be invisible.

Forcing his breaths to calm, Silver can feel the familiar wave of exhaustion drag down his conscience. The conditions are perfect. The air is humid and warm, Fuyu's shoulder is soft (when did he let his head drop?), and he hasn't had a soporific spell in a while… a while being a few hours. Just a moment of rest would be beneficial anyways, right?

The palm finding its way atop his head doesn't help. Fuyu can tell he likes the feeling of his chartreuse stained fingers carding through his ivory locks, despite how lethargic the sensation makes him feel. Silver tends to avoid the botanical gardens; the warmth of the atmosphere tends to lull him into a rather drowsy state.

"… It's alright." Fuyu grins, a happy sigh exhaled from his lips once his giggling's been exhausted. They sit back against the dirt. They're careful not to disturb the plants within the humid greenhouse of the gardens — they're almost as fond of the vegetation as they are of Silver. "We can go see Samson later. I'll wake you up."

No, it's okay, He says. He thinks he says, considering his lips aren't cooperating and his words slur into something indistinguishable. A kiss is pressed to the subconscious crease between his brows, and all his worries seem to melt away with it.

For once, Silver thinks his curse might not be so bad with Fuyu here with him.

caderi - @thecadeverse kanae - @beneathsakurashade penn - @totallyjadedd

(writing acc - @fuyufriedeggs)

[totallyjadedd]

YAOI WEDNESDAY DELIVERY EVERYBODY SIT DOWN

[silfuville]

It’s yaoi wednesday Jinny where’s silfu

here's your yaoi slop

(1,089 words of an average after class excursion with silfu)

.

.

The bushes rustle with the weight of two people combined, both Silver and Fuyu lingering within the foliage for the prime sightseeing spot.

Now, normally, after school, teenagers would typically do teenager things like return to their dorms and game or something. Or perhaps go to Foothill town and spend their money on things they'll never use but insist they need.

However, once classes are out, the couple like to observe.

Considering the fact that there isn't anything new to see in Night Raven College other than the same old architecture Crowley hasn't refurbished in forever, what exactly is there to look at?

People.

Silver thinks it's a little creepy. Well, it should be creepy, but his boyfriend's interest in day to day affairs is… endearing, with the way he points out daily mannerisms and routine as if they were some special once in a lifetime event. Someone trips and looks around for any witnesses. Fuyu writes it down, as said witness. He turns to Silver for approval. Silver is confused and nods. The cycle goes on.

Maybe he thinks it's endearing how Fuyu thinks his opinions are important enough that his little hobby now also revolves around his input as well.

His attention's taken by a quiet gasp, along with chartreuse stained fingertips tugging at his uniform sleeve. It pulls him out of his half-awake daze, teetering on the edge of the lucid world and sleep (something he's grateful for; falling asleep would be awfully troublesome here and he wouldn't like to inconvenience Fuyu).

"Wha…" Silver's voice falls quiet as Fuyu mimes out a shushing motion, pulling back leaves and branches for a better look at the new pair traipsing along the cobbled sidewalk. They're close. A couple… a familiar couple. "Is that the other prefect?"

There's three— no, four Ramshackle prefects. This awfully shy, cobalt-haired youth named Caderi stumbled out of the mirror just a week ago, and was promptly dumped into Fuyu's dorm with the other two he arrived with: Kanae, a very pink girl around Fuyu's height, and Penn, a much taller boy he doesn't think he's ever heard the voice of.

"Mhm," Fuyu hums in his own form of confirmation, squinting at the flesh colored blobs in the distance. "Kanae, and that small crimson specimen she's awfully taken with."

(Silver decidedly ignores the description of specimen, as he always has thus far)

Silver recognizes the red vest, accompanying the lighter pink, seemingly just strolling and having a chat. It feels as if they're intruding on a private moment, judging from the uncharacteristic fondness on the Heartslabyul housewarden's face.

Well, they are. That's the whole point of this sightseeing excursion. Fuyu doesn't seem to think there's anything wrong with it.

"… Perhaps we should go somewhere else," Silver suggests, turning to watch Fuyu's expressions. They look, for lack of better word, locked in. "We've been here around an hour. If we go now, we can make it to the stables before curfew."

He knows the magic words. Stable. It's no secret that Fuyu's second true love (Silver hopes he's the first) is Samson. Hell, the steed's the reason they even met in the first place, with the shorter male showing interest in his horse and promptly having his face kicked in with his eccentric behavior.

Like clockwork, Fuyu turns to Silver so quickly he fears he might suffer from whiplash, stars dancing in his vibrant dragonfruit eyes as if daring the other boy to take back his offer. His excitement's contagious, prompting a soft smile from the silver haired as well.

"Let's go." They say without arguement, standing abruptly from the bush.

Of course, it draws attention, and they now have to flee from a red-faced Riddle Rosehearts while the enabler Kanae sits back and watches them run. Goddamn traitor.

Fuyu's hand is just slightly smaller than his own calloused palms, though Silver has no time to dwell on it as he tugs him along. He's become somewhat of an expert in fleeing due to their 'dates'. Neither of them are all that discreet, after all, and Silver's definitely the more athletic of the duo.

Riddle's misleadingly quick— Silver swiftly yanks Fuyu closer with an apology in his head and steals him off his feet, heart pounding in protest and exhileration as his shoes beat against the grass. Fuyu certainly doesn't seem to mind the manhandling, enjoyment clear on his face as he laughs.

Silver's feet burn as they transition to the cobblestone, what with loafers not exactly being built for running (not to mention the added weight at his front swaying his center of gravity) — the adrenaline's almost refreshing, with the same rush he gets while training to keep himself awake. Maybe he should run with Fuyu more often.

He ducks into the botanical gardens, carefully setting Fuyu down by the packed dirt behind the dense foliage. The latter's smothering his giggling within his sleeves, shoulder to shoulder with the pale-haired boy.

There's something unsettling about Silver's boyfriend, with the way little to no heat emanates from his skin. It's as if his presence is meant to be invisible.

Forcing his breaths to calm, Silver can feel the familiar wave of exhaustion drag down his conscience. The conditions are perfect. The air is humid and warm, Fuyu's shoulder is soft (when did he let his head drop?), and he hasn't had a soporific spell in a while… a while being a few hours. Just a moment of rest would be beneficial anyways, right?

The palm finding its way atop his head doesn't help. Fuyu can tell he likes the feeling of his chartreuse stained fingers carding through his ivory locks, despite how lethargic the sensation makes him feel. Silver tends to avoid the botanical gardens; the warmth of the atmosphere tends to lull him into a rather drowsy state.

"… It's alright." Fuyu grins, a happy sigh exhaled from his lips once his giggling's been exhausted. They sit back against the dirt. They're careful not to disturb the plants within the humid greenhouse of the gardens — they're almost as fond of the vegetation as they are of Silver. "We can go see Samson later. I'll wake you up."

No, it's okay, He says. He thinks he says, considering his lips aren't cooperating and his words slur into something indistinguishable. A kiss is pressed to the subconscious crease between his brows, and all his worries seem to melt away with it.

For once, Silver thinks his curse might not be so bad with Fuyu here with him.

caderi - @thecadeverse kanae - @beneathsakurashade penn - @totallyjadedd

(writing acc - @fuyufriedeggs)