THROWING FISTS﹙☆﹚—  TWST

HAPPY 1 MONTH ANNIVERSARY TO MY ACCOUNT YAY

seriously you guys are so sweet thank you for your support, it means a lot to me <33 I'm glad people like my writing so much!!! I'll keep doing my best!

Vargas Camp

Loved your take on him smelling like smoke and I completely agree! I have no idea how his hair works, physics wise his hair would be burning at atleast 2,500 degrees F if not up to 3000 degrees F so by all means simply brushing past him would leave you with atleast a slight burn if not worse, yet we see him tie it up in a ponytail and braid it. Also just a little silly fact since his hair canonically turns red when he’s angry that would mean his hair becomes a colder temperature when he’s angered than it is when he’s completely fine (p.s I love Idia thank you for talking about him with me!!) -🦭

I'm glad you did, 🦭!!!

RIGHT? but I don't think it burns at all, not himself nor other people, since no one has ever mentioned it? Idia is insecure about his hair, yes, but not because it's dangerous and has hurt people before, but because it's different and people might look at him weird. and just like you said anon, simply by brushing past him it would be able to leave a burn mark on someone!! which has never happened at all!!

maybe it has something to do with his curse? I don't know much about his backstory yet, though I'm pretty sure he's not fae or a demigod, but a human like most students, the only difference is that his family carries a curse that causes his hair to be in flames, his teeth pointy and his lips blue. I'm pretty sure that's it? there must be some reason (something involving the underworld?), but I haven't read chapter 6 so I'm not aware of it yet.

this curse might mean his hair is not actually on flames, but these are more like a symbolical fire? it imitates real fire, but acts just like hair (with a few exceptions at the tips that end up floating and giving it a fiery effect). that might be why he's able to touch it and mold it into different hairstyles.

it would also explain this emotional fact! like you said, his hair turns colder when he's angry, which wouldn't make much sense if you consider that there's a tendency of your blood rushing and making you run hotter when feeling strong emotions, particularly one as strong as anger. if you consider the color theory of it, though, it makes more sense: Idia is usually chill and calm, even melancholic, so blue fits his natural state. red is associated with negative fiery emotions, such as anger. pink is a soft color that brings to mind love, so when he's flustered it might burn pink. so on and so forth. it's very cute how you can tell his emotional state by his hair!

Idia is so interesting (and relatable at some points), I totally understand why he'd be one of your favorites, anon! I really enjoy talking about him with you, as you bring up so many good points I wouldn't have thought about!! I can't wait until chapter 6 comes to the english server so I can see more of him!

[Valentine's first spring - Riddle Rosehearts]

Summary: Autumn passes by, with winter following closely. You stay, keeping his heart safe. You stay, and Riddle craves you more than anything in this world.

Notes: gn!reader, fluff with a bit of angst, riddle's mother is it's own warning, wrote this in like an hour while listening to Valentine by Laufey and First Love/Late Spring by Mitski

The wall was red. Not too vivid, to not hurt the eyes to look at, but not quite light enough to be pink. Riddle remembers clearly, the hours of staring at it, locked in his bedroom, marked it in his memory, burnt a hole and stayed at the back of his mind. Sometimes, if he closes his eyes long enough, he feels as if he's staring at that wall again.

As a child it felt agonizing. He stared and stared and stared, trying to will his brain to keep quiet for a little while, to stop thinking. He never managed to do that, not like the other kids, who always looked so cheerful, without a care in the world, only thinking about the present moment. Riddle wasn't like them, he never was. His brain didn't look at the wall and wondered about what the next episode of a cartoon would be or what sweet he would eat next or what prank he'd pull with his friends.

No, he wasn't like these misbehaving brats, his mother told him so. He thought about the exercise he couldn't get right and his mother's disappointed frown. What should he do to be better? He didn't want to be burden, the least he could do was get a simple exercise right. Other times he would think about the high grade he got on his latest test. His mother looked pleased then. Not happy, she was never happy, not around him. Perhaps if he only put more effort into studying, if he followed the rules, if he did everything as she told him to, perhaps then she would smile and tell him he did a good job. She loved him, she told him so. It just didn't feel like it, sometimes.

After meeting Trey and Che'nya, he stopped looking at the wall for a while. He was happy, he couldn't stand that reddish color anymore, nor his stray thoughts. He met a blue sky and green on the streets and the world was full of color. He bid the wall goodbye for good. 

Even so, he missed staring at it when his free time was taken away from him. Back when he still could, his mind would rest a little and he could pretend he was doing it out of his own free will, not because he didn't have any game to play or any non academical book to read or any candy to snack. The books were nowhere as comforting as that familiar red shade. His chest ached. He wondered if that was what love felt like.

After his overblot, Riddle was lost. He was thankful for your help, for you stopping him from commiting even more mistakes and making him see how he was doing things wrong. Still, he couldn't help but resent you a little for opening his eyes, forcing him to leave the comfortable zone he was in.

He was taught to follow the rules, since it was the right thing. Naturally, everyone should do the same. Have their mother's never taught them how to behave? Riddle could do the job, put everyone in line, make Heartslabyul follow proudly in the Queen of Hearts' steps.

But the rules weren't always right, human nature was a complicated thing, there would always be exceptions. He couldn't expect everyone to act like him when they weren't brought up the same way. He should have been more considerate to their feelings, stopped to hear their justifications before collaring them mercilessly. 

Riddle had never wanted to be a tyrant. He only ever had wanted to be a good ruler, someone his subordinates can count on.

He continued to be lost as he stared, alone, at the cooking book's instructions. Trey was so kind to lend it to him, even after all the mess he had made, even after everything he had put him through. He still smiled at Riddle and tried to help, in his own way.

Riddle wanted to cry, then. He wanted to apologize over and over, to thank Trey until he couldn't talk anymore, to ask why didn't he stop him sooner, why did no one tell him he was wrong, why did his mother mislead him so? He felt like a child, so small and pathetic. A lost child, at that. He refused to let the tears fall and only thanked Trey politely with a strained voice. From his firend's pitying smile, he could tell Trey saw through his façade easily, but didn't comment on it, letting him save the last bits of his dignity.

Wallowing in self pity wouldn't fix his mistakes nor get the tart done. He should get started as soon as possible and follow all the steps perfectly to bring a most satisfactory result. Although he couldn't find the measures for the secret oyster sauce Trey had told him about. 

There's a sudden noise at the kitchen's door as someone enters, surprising him. Riddle turns around, not expecting any company, much less yours.

"Prefect. Have you forgotten something here?"

"No, I didn't. I wanted to see you, actually."

There's dread in his gut and his hands tremble slightly. He's not sure how to act after the stunt he pulled, after he had put you in danger on your first week, after he broke down crying in front of everyone. Perhaps you're here to demand a better apology or to mock him. So be it, he'll take it all gracefully.

"Oh? What for?"

"I want to help."

There's a soft smile on your face, determination shining in your eyes as you roll up the sleeves of your uniform and look around for an apron.

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused." Your smile turns into a playful grin and you let out a victorious sound as you put on the apron you found laying on the corner. 

He's baffled. What were you talking about? Ace made it very clear he should do this alone to prove he was truly sorry for his past actions.

"I'm... not sure if I understand."

"Well, it's just that I didn't want to leave you alone after... uh... everything." You make a motion in the air with your hands, as if it would be enough to sumarize the whole disaster that had transpired. "You don't have to isolate yourself, you know. You can count on us if things get too tough."

There's a strange lump on his throat and he swears he has stopped breathing. What were you talking about? Why were you being so kind to him, of all people? You haven't even known each other for that long and he has only caused you trouble the whole time.

"Also, I had a lot of fun baking with the guys! I want you to have fun too! The more, the merrier, and all that."

You walk to his side in order to look at the book, all smiles and confidence in a pink apron. He stares at you in shock, scooting away as soon as your elbow makes contact with his. He feels tingles on the place, as if your touch could burn. You pay him no mind, reading carefully the list of ingredients. 

"Alright, sounds easy enough. Let's get started, then!"

"Wait. You don't have to do this. I don't need your pity, prefect, I can handle myself just fine."

Riddle wants to slap himself as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but he couldn't let you help. He needed to this alone, that's how he's always done things. Your stare makes him want to scream in frustration. He doesn't understand it, it isn't the disappointed one his mother gave him, nor the pitiful one from his dormmates. If he looked long enough, he would have concluded it was an understanding stare, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I don't pity you, Riddle. You knew what you were doing and you deserved to hear those things from Ace."

His breath hitches and he's never felt so ashamed before. It feels worse than a slap, to have the truth thrown at him like this. His actions mocking him, his own faults tightening the collar around his neck.

"Still, I can see you truly regret it. And it doesn't feel right to just leave you alone. Don't get me wrong, you're not my charity project or anything. It's just... I understand how hard it is to start again, to try to be better. And it's so much harder when you feel like no one is by your side."

Like an open book, Riddle feels you can read every line from his being, that his thoughts are yours to pick apart. Is he so obvious? He feels rooted in place, a poor fool waiting to receive his sentence at your mercy.

"You're not a bad person, Riddle. I can see that. So, let's start again, together."

Your smile looks too much like the light at the end of the tunnel, like some sort of salvation. His chest expands and contracts again as his breathing resumes, he gulps the dryness out of his throat and blinks firmly, holding the tears in. Suddenly, he doesn't feel as lost as before.

You extend your hand at him, expectantly. How could he deny that? Sparkles fly on his skin as your hands touch, the gentle feeling like nothing he's ever felt before. How did you manage to make him feel like he's floating, like everything will be alright, like there's a shock running through every single bone of his body?

"Come on, we've got a tart to do!"

"Yes. Let's do this." He can't control his facial muscles, a little smile forming on it's own.

Only after both of you had gathered all the ingredients did he remember something.

"There's just one more thing."

"Yes?" Your attention focuses solely on him, head tilted slightly and he feels at the top of the world to have you looking at him like that.

"We don't have any oyster sauce."

The cute inquisitive expression falls from your face, a carefully neutral one taking it's place, making him fidget on his spot, worried he might have done something wrong. He truly didn't want to ruin things with you, not when everything has started to feel right again.

"Why would we need any?"

"Trey has told me it's an unlisted secret ingredient that all the finest bakers use..."

He watches, mesmerized, as your expression cracks, a giggle leaving your lips, followed by another and another until you're full out laughing, eyes crinkled so hard they're almost closed, teeth exposed and chest heaving, pure joy flowing through you. It's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

Still, he's not sure if he should feel hurt or offended that you're laughing at him. He settles on confusion, not wanting to jump into conclusions.

Once you've calmed down enough to speak again you explain, between giggles sweeter than sugar, that it was only a joke Trey had pulled on you as well. 

The embarrassment creeps up his spine and makes his face blush, cheeks warming up. He would have been mad, had it happened a few days ago. And yet. Your happiness is contagious, making a laugh break out from him, joining the chorus with your melody. 

It feels so silly, laughing together in the kitchen like that, but he's not lost anymore. The air is comfortable once more and it feels sweet on his tongue, it feels like home.

As the time passes, you grow on him, you make a place for yourself in his life, to the point he can't remember how he's ever lived before you.

You study together, you listen to all his explanations attentively, he answers any questions you might have, you make sure he's taking breaks. You take him on walks around the campus, hand clasped in his. You rope him into snack runs, sharing with him a piece of whatever you're having.

You give him hugs without asking anything in return, your arms open and oh so inviting, so alluring. You tousle his hair when you're feeling playful, fixing it gently when he complains. You give him a kiss on the cheek when you're proud of one of his accomplishments, loudly congratulating him.

He's never had this before. No one has been this affectionate with him, so openly and unashamed. No one has treated him like he's precious, like you do. 

Riddle craves you. He has never desired something so fiercely before. He has never had the chance. 

The next best thing he could compare the feeling to was to a strawberry tart. Not any strawberry tart, but Trey's parents' bakery's strawberry tart. Whenever he gazed at the window he would see it on display, the red color calling to him. His mouth salivated just thinking about how it would taste should he take a bite of it, the sweetness exploding on his tongue. Maybe he could satiate the aching whitin him, fill that empty hole and feel happy. Then, his mother's voice would play on his head, reprimanding him for even thinking of consuming that amount of sugar. He'd look away, ashamed, but the red strawberries would always pull his eyes to them again, like a magnet.

Whenever he saw you, he felt the same ache on his chest, but stronger. A yearning to see your smile, to feel your warm hands against his, taste the most delicious red from your lips. Just from having your attention on him it felt like lady bugs dancing on his stomach, making his heart accelerate, face flushing. He craves you, more than any strawberry tart in the world.

It scares him. He's never felt like this, never felt this strongly for anyone. He's still young and sorting his life out, he doesn't even know what he wants to become without his mother's overbearing demands. He's figuring himself out, getting lost in the maze of his feelings. He's always acted older than his age, always complied to his mother's desires, and now he feels younger than ever and he's scared.

Riddle wants you to like him back, desperately so. Still, he can't bear to imagine you saying you love him. The thought leaves him breathless, his chest aches and aches and aches for you and he doesn't know what he'd do without you.

Autumn passes by, with winter following closely. You stay, keeping his heart safe. You stay, and Riddle craves you more than anything in this world.

The fresh breeze of spring brings forth the scent of the flowers scattered across the garden. Riddle can hear birds singing at the distance and the sun's warmth settles pleasantly on his skin, warming up his bones. It's as if the flora has come to life, buzzing in excitement for the season.

There's nothing prettier than your smile directed at him, nothing else that could make him feel like he's lost control of his heartbeat.

Your hands are behind your back and you have a spring in your step as you stop right in front of him. You ask him to extend his hand and he does so, watching intently as one your hands takes his and brings it to your lips, tenderly pressing a feather light kiss on the back of it. His eyes are blown out, his lips drying and heart running wildly.

"These are for you."

A bouquet of flowers in red shades is given to him, your other hand making contact and holding his. A smile blooms on his face, stretching his red cheeks as a loving sigh leaves his mouth. 

"Thank you. They are lovely."

"Just like you." You wink playfully, sticking your tongue out a bit and letting go of his hands. He has to stop himself from reaching out again, missing your warmth terribly.

Riddle clears his throat and motions at the other side of the small round table he's set up. "Please, have a seat."

You do as he says, admiring the decorations he's prepared. Between the red and white roses of the garden, the two of you share a cup of milk tea and a strawberry tart. The conversation flows naturally, telling each other how your days have been and how things are going. Riddle could listen to you all day, every story you have to share captures his interest as easily as you've captured his heart.

It's such a domestic scene, the two of you. Riddle thinks that's what love must feel like. Like a warm embrace, or like the sweetness of the tart melting on his tongue, or like your smile. Not like a red wall and a disappointed frown.

The sun sets in a hue of reds, the sunlight creating a dream like atmosphere between yourselves. The way your relaxed face reflects the colors makes Riddle feel full of affection. He's content, he realises. He wishes he could share a million other moments like this with you, a million other springs.

"It's beautiful." You comment, breathless. You're not looking at the sunset anymore, though. Your gaze is on him and only him, as if he's the most important thing in the world. "You're beautiful." Your voice is filled with sincerity and something else, something that makes his heart ache with yearning, something that makes him want to hear you say that again and again.

It feels so much like a confession.

He can't help but blush, red like his hair. He's never had this before, he's not sure how to react. So, he blurts out the first thing he thinks of, the truth slipping from his lips.

"You're beautiful too."

It feels like a promise.

You look surprised, eyebrows rising and mouth opening. He's surprised too. And then you laugh, honey dripping from the sound. You look pleased as you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers and squeezing it gently. 

The table is small, small enough for you to lay your elbows against it and come closer to his face, for your other hand to cup his red cheek and bring his face closer to yours. Riddle is lost in the moment, closing his eyes and tilting his head, his free hand resting against your shoulder. 

As your lips press together, Riddle feels elated. His fingers tremble and grip harder onto you, not wanting to let you go. The kiss is slow and so tender, so sweet. He can taste the strawberries on your tongue, can feel your thumb caressing his cheek. You deepen the kiss and he lets out a whimper from deep within, a sound filled with sheer want. He lingers over this moment, wanting to commit it to memory, carve it on his soul.

You pull back, separating your lips. Riddle chases after you, wanting more, needing more. You giggle and nuzzle your noses together, such an innocent act that it feels more intimate, somehow. You've got his heart on your hands and you hold onto it with the utmost care, so much so that he can't feel himself ever regreting this. If he could, he'd like to kiss you, and only one, for the rest of his life.

"Riddle." The way you say his name is soft, not breaking the moment. "Will you be my valentine?"

He opens his eyes and traces every inch of your face, his hand moving to the back of your neck and pulling you closer. He gives you a chaste kiss, trying to satisfy his craving enough to be able to get the words out from his throat without choking on it.

"I'd love to, if you'll have me."

Your answering smile is exactly what he needs. Your lips connect again, it feels a lot like love.

Masterlist

Ok i raise to you though jade when he crushes talks to his mushrooms about said crush as well as maybe azul and floyd on occasion send help to them cause he probably doesn’t stop

HI ANON!! I'M. SHAKING YOU BY THE SHOULDERS RN. YOU'RE SOOO RIGHT!!!!!

he'd have a very soft smile and his eyes would look so gentle as he'd whisper about something his crush did that day... such a vulnerable moment...

tho when he talks with Floyd and Azul, I feel he'd be bragging about them? like, still with his mushy feelings yes but in a less vulnerable lovesick way and more in a "my crush is so cool look at what they did, bet you wish you had a crush cool like that too huh" way. because he's a little shit like that. Azul and Floyd know how much affection he holds for them from the sheer amount of times he's mentioned them in conversation in the past two hours. they are planning an intervention asap.

SO TRUE, the way they both trusted each other so much... that last fight with Nine becoming Melissa's eyes... them..................

YESSS yuri's character is much more than the "sweet and innocent MC who cares about everyone", she's much more well rounded than that! in my heart, the true ending is Melissa marrying both Nine and Yuri and they live happily ever after (with Yona being their maid of honor who gets really rich)

YOU'RE SO RIGHT, especially with Ian since he's the one that had more screentime, you could see him changing after Melissa confronted him inumerous times and Melissa's own feelings on that matter. I also really liked how they straight up just threw Peacock in jail LMAO that's what he deserves!!!! and the whole stalking thing with Jake was really cool, to see Melissa and Yuri confronting him like that. Jack is so funny to me too because he didn't even go after Yuri, he was just vibing being a dumbass who causes trouble all the time lol, Melissa is a real one for protecting Yuri and putting everyone in their places, what a girlboss

HII LIYA!! just wanted to say I've just fineshed reading Beware of the Villainess and OMG??? IT'S SOOOOOOO GOOD???? THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR RECCOMENDING IT I LOVED IT <33 seriously it's so funny and captivating, Melissa is such a cool protagonist, breaking the usual stereotypes like that and writing her own story!! I also LOVED Nine and Yuri, they are so sweet, I was rooting for both of them! LITERALLY NINE AND MELISSA INVENTED ROMANCE. NO ONE WILL EVER TOP THEM EVER. how am I supposed to move on from such a heartfelt relationship................ soulmates fr fr. and the original male love insterests ARE SO FUNNY?? the art style, as you had mentioned, is beautiful as well, some of the scenes took my breath away, I just had to take an extra moment to appreciate them! again, thank you so so so so much for introducing this amazing manhwa to me, it's such a nice way to start reading this genre!

HI BEE!!!! <3 I’m so glad you enjoyed Beware the Villainess!!!!! It has such a soft spot in my heart and it’s such a genuinely great story!!!

You’re right, NO ONE did romance better than Melissa and Nine… they’re so sweet? I love how they felt like they were friends, not just lovers, like they really get along and care for each other :’0

Something I like about Beware the Villainess is how Melissa and Yuri have fully rounded characters, and are both victims trapped in unfortunate circumstances? Neither of them fall into a cliche role, and their relationship is so cute… Melissa has two hands: one for Nine and one for Yuri <3

Another thing I enjoy is that the og male love interests are portrayed as horrible people and they… are properly punished by the narrative for their actions? They’re not redeemed for some shallow reason, they’re redeemed by properly reflecting on their actions and trying to do better. It really grinds my gears when manhwa go “oh this guy was shit and treated the mc terribly and was even the cause of her death BUT he changed and they’re in love now :3c” like…? Get away from her rn!!!!! We’ve seen their relationship at the lowest, and the fact he has the capacity and ability to do horrible things to the mc means I do not want him near him tysm !

i’ve become the villain’s lover!

summary: You have the worst luck in the entire world to be transmigrated into a novel as some faceless side character, where the most notorious villains in the story won’t leave you alone. (ft. Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus).

notes: 12k words, scenario, fluff, mentions of violence, reader gets injured once, heavily based on my love of cheesy isekai/reincarnation/villainess manhwa 

All of your problems started with the book your friend lent you.

You didn’t even want to read it at first, but you took the copy because she wouldn’t stop pestering you and spamming you with texts. The title—I’ve Become the Villain’s Lover!—was embossed gold, and the cover picture had seven beautiful men lounging around a woman with brown hair, the woman gazing wistfully into the distance. In short, it was so cheesy it sent chills down your back.

You really weren’t going to read it. But that summer night was hot and humid and you had nothing better to do than stare at the television and stir around your half-melted ice cream. So when you saw the book on the edge of the kitchen counter, you thought, why not? and opened it up.

If it was bad, you would stop after a few pages. But the television kept droning on as you read, and your forgotten ice cream was now melted slush in its bowl, and soon you were halfway through the story.

The premise itself was simple enough: the heroine, Hera Winn, was the treasured daughter of a down on his luck baron. He sent her to the city to make her debut, and after a series of mishaps, she ended up running into the crown prince, Malleus Draconia, who fell in love at first sight. However, the crown prince was feared by his subjects, and rumors swirled around about his fearsome power and his family. To make matters worse, six other men fall in love with Hera. The cherry on top? All seven men were notorious villains, feared by people far and wide for their cruelty.

You were still a few chapters away from the ending when your eyes started drooping; it was impossible to keep them open, even though you were dying to text your friend. It was deliciously bad, in an over-the-top and campy way, and you appreciated how self-indulgent the author was. Seriously, why would seven villains even fall for an ordinary person? It was way too contrived.

Whatever. You could call her tomorrow.

You closed your eyes, and when you opened them again, you found yourself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. Oh no. No way. This wasn’t what you thought it was, was it?

Conveniently, there was a hand mirror next to you, and when you stared into the frame, the face of a stranger stared back at you.

Your worst fears had come true. You’d transmigrated into I’ve Become the Villain’s Lover!

Shit. You were never going to read another book in your life.

Continuar lendo

GETTING DRESSED! WITH JADE LEECH

Fingers ghost along your arm as Jade tugs the sleeve down your elbow, touch lingering against your skin far longer than necessary.

To make sure you look presentable, he claims, with an all-knowing smirk tugging at his lips. If that wasn’t evidence enough, then what of the attention riveting upon you so shamelessly, that the glow within his eyes ignites your skin like bioluminescent particles waking within deep, deep waters? 

You can’t hold his gaze for long, already fighting the urge to sink to your knees and smush your hands to your face. So you keep your eyes trained on the fingers rolling each cuff around your wrist, tantalizingly slow. 

He’s doing it on purpose.

Noticing your stare, Jade leans closer, just to see you squirm. “By the way you’re reacting, you’d think I were undressing you instead.” 

Meanwhile he moves on to smooth down your tunic, thumbing against your waist as he presses his lips to your temple. 

Warm breath ripples against your ear. He steals your voice yet again, by clasping that jade pendant around your neck. Attempting, at least.

You know he can hook it in a single try, like he’d done when he first gifted it. But he’s still so close, lips grazing your ear, hands ghosting the skin near your collar.

He apologizes for the delay, he just can’t seem to catch the clasp right — now he’s chuckling, all too amused by the fluster he’s got you in. 

When he steps away, your words return. “Done?” 

“Ah. Not so fast, Prefect.” He pauses for a moment, as if considering something. With a quiet sigh of relent, he pulls his gloves from his breast-pocket. He plays with your fingers, interlocking them within his. 

Jade attentively guides his gloves onto your own fingers, gentle with his touch. Cool to the touch, yet undeniably safe. There’s a tenderness when he kneels to press his lips to your gloved hand. “Don’t forget,” he says. “I’m all yours.”  

So a little something I’ve never really analyzed is how much symbolism is in each overblot design!! You can find small hints and nods to events and stories in each outfit. If I had to give an example I think Riddle’s is the easiest to spot, the cards on the bottom. The cards used to symbolize Ace and Deuce are shown in the front of the dress with the cards used to symbolize Cater and Trey being in the back. Of course this could be me over-analyzing, but having Ace and Deuce being shown in front somewhat leads me to believe it was intentional to show how Riddle somewhat followed them and how they refused to follow him. Cater and Trey being in the back shows how they followed him and stood behind him even though they knew what he was doing was wrong! And there’s little things like that in every outfit if you look closely!! - 🦭

🦭 ANON HIII HOW ARE U DOING???

you're so right, all the overblot designs have little details and motifs that are very interesting to analyse and can tell you a lot about the characters themselves!

honestly, I think there isn't such a thing as over-analyzing! the artists usually put a lot of intentional little details into the designs, so there could be meaning to them! I really like your interpretation of it, I'll admit I never noticed or thought about this before, so now I'm convinced it could represent this!

my favorite design choice for the ob!designs is how many acessories are made from pure blot, like in Riddle's case: his crown, boots, gloves and the little thingy behind his neck! also, how the phantoms represent their fears/insecurities and the villains they were inspired by! in Riddle's case, it could be interpreted as his mother's influence and how he still feels like he has to follow all she thaught him and the rules bearing down on him, besides the Queen Of Hearts herself.

if you'd like to tell me more about your theories and observations about the overblot designs, feel free to! I've missed reading your thoughts on things, thank you for sharing them with me! 🫶

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

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

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

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

Thanks for the request <3 |

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

Cherry’s Harvesting 🍒 Masterlist

Winter Melts Into Spring

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        “You.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        “And I don't know why.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        “Hyperfixation?,” he tried to correct it.

        “It's love, Idia.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        “I-I’m not saying it again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        “Thanks.”

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

        “It is. For me, it is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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