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Silver fans knew we used to pray for times like these!!

Nomming every Silver Vanrouge content like a starving man.

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hc about leech famm?

I have so many, I've written about them all throughout my blog and here's some more!!

They consider giving the business operations of their "Leech Family trade" to Jade. Jade is cold and calculating, whereas Floyd is unpredictable and therefore much suited to the role of a Capo.

Their house in the coral sea, comprises a few hectares. It is so big that it makes Yuu wonder how the concept of real estate works in the sea because their house is literally a whole underwater cave.

Rich. Georgina and Papa Leech go on shopping sprees often. The allowance they give their children every month is enough to cover the living expenses of a family of five for a year.

They refuse to wear some clothes twice. Lol. Partly because Papa Leech had an instance where his pride was wounded when he "did not dress meticulously". This is why he absolutely entailed both his sons to always show their best. People might think this is not true but think about it, Floyd is effortlessly handsome and Jade is just so-professional looking.

Makes you wonder why Jade and Floyd works for Mostro Lounge right? Jade charges it to experience since Georgina and Papa expects him to run the business, what better way to learn than be a vice dorm leader to the ambitious Ashengrotto. Floyd is well, Floyd. Just tagging along because it's fun.

Georgina, right after laying her twins and many more. Left them. In the middle of the dark, and cold ocean to determine if they can survive. Her joy can't be contained once she realizes it is her favourite twins that survived. :)

The Leech Family just sticks together all the time. Sure they might claw and slash each other to death but they will kill for the sake of their family.

Papa Leech is incredibly well-connected. He’s got ties with politicians, businessmen, royalty, small shopkeepers, merfolk of all kinds—including the shady ones who work under the radar. Half of them work for him.

Leech fam are one of the actually progressive merfolks. Since they feel the opportunities under the sea are limited, and they’re quite discriminated under the sea for practicing err, cannibalism they don't practice this in the current times tho..., they’ve made it a point to branch out into land-based ventures. Georgina pushes for networking, and land-acquired influence, while Papa Leech funds initiatives that allow merfolk to "blend in" above water. They're seen as pioneers among their kind—either admired, feared, or hated depending on who you ask.

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UR THIUGHTS ABOUT LEECH MAMA???

So many thoughts about Madam Georgina!! Thoughts are being thunk. She's absolutely spoiling her two leech babies, but I hc she's much closer to Jade. I also hc that she and Jade enjoys mind games every now and then. They're literally in-sync. If Papa Leech and Floyd are the brawls of the fam, they're the brains!! I bet when she walks in a room she's the embodiment of a siren's charm.

Also she looks like she will be a good mother in law, who expects grandchildren within a year or two, because you gotta continue the business and the Leech fam yknow.

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I CANT silver's mom's genes didn't even try 😭🙏

He looks like his papa. But Princess Leah is literally sooo pretty. I guess Silver got her demeanor, and I mean, who am I to blame the Dawn Knight...

Creds: Twst Assets

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I've been dying to see the twst parents and my goodness. They're aura farming against their own children!! They're so cunty that I don't even wanna think about their husbands!! Madam Georgina and Queen Meleanor are literally goddesses.

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A Food sequel commissioned by @angelcorecult, thank you so much for your patience and support!

Warnings: Implied rivalry, anxious reader. Others. 5,000+ word count.

Not beta read.

Characters: Rook, Leona, Jade, Floyd, Malleus, Lillia, Idia. Others.

Food II.

- Cravings deeper than hunger. A dinner of devotion.

The morning after the feast—it can't be called as such because you swore you were running on three hours of sleep at most. The sheets clung damp to your skin, the fabric oppressive, suffocating. The air was thick with humidity and the scent of plants—

They do not smell like the earth, rather they're too thick, too sweet, like perfume rotting in the heat. Your hands trembled as they pushed against the mattress, forcing yourself upright.

You heaved a sigh, a sound so heavy it felt like the air had rested on your nostrils far too long for a normal intake of breath. Rolling your shoulders and head, hearing a joint or two popping.

Grim jumped toward you, his tail swishing side to side behind him. He tilted his head, "Is something wrong?"

Yes. Yes, there is.

Yet you shook your head and gave your companion a tiny smile. Maybe you could dismiss what happened as a dream. A hyperaware dream. There are studies on the human mind playing tricks on its owner; perhaps this was your brain's way of grounding you in reality, convincing you that none of what you saw last night was real.

The carcass-shaped roasted meat, the finger on whoever's plate, the iron scent of their drinks, the way their shapes seems to untangle in their true forms—

Stop.

None of it is real.

You couldn’t put it into words. A weight settled in your chest, thick and suffocating, but you forced yourself to move. To dress. To ignore the way the air felt too heavy, too charged with something you couldn’t name. The morning routine should have been simple yet every movement, every glance in the mirror, felt foreign, like watching someone else go through the motions of your life.

The halls of Night Raven College were a solace, at least for now. Students bustled about, their chatter a comforting backdrop. Normal. This was normal. You just needed to act like nothing was wrong.

The first class was potions with Divus Crewel. It had gone as smooth as it can be. You don't know how you can act nor face the headmaster after he bribed you, the heavy cling of mora tucked away under the covers of your bed. You're not sure if you could take the blood money and spend it. Heck, just holding it feels morally wrong.

Lunch arrived without much fanfare. Ace and Deuce had been bickering over something trivial, Grim stuffing his face with whatever he could get his paws on. It was routine, familiar, grounding.

Hmph!

You bumped into someone.

A student, who looks normal, a Diasomnia student perhaps—one whose name you couldn’t recall, but who clearly recognized you. His eyes locked onto yours, their expression twisting into something unreadable. "Watch where you're going," he muttered, voice oddly low, too controlled.

You mumbled an apology, but the way he lingered, the way his gaze stayed fixed on you just a second too long, sent an uncomfortable chill down your spine.

You forced yourself to keep walking. It was fine. It had to be fine. The cafeteria. A perfect place to gather your thoughts. In the company of many, your worries can be buried under the guise of the public.

Grim frowned as he looked at you, his mouth half-full of pasta and pastries. "You’ve been actin’ weird ever since you woke up. Did something happen that I, the mighty Grim, don’t know about?"

You hesitated. "Nothing. Just tired."

Grim huffed. “Eh? You just got out of bed and left me! But ya smelled really good when you came back! Like you went to a fancy restaurant.”

Your breath hitched.

Fancy restaurant.

Sweat trickle down your nape. Could it be that Grim does know? Can you even tell him?

Memories slithered into your mind—fingers gripping silverware too tightly, Rook’s teeth tearing into something fibrous, Leona, Malleus, Lilia, and hell forbid even Idia drinking something goey red and metallic from their glass, the way Jade and Floyd had provoked you into taking a bite of what seems to be a carcass of some sort, the cloying scent of iron and roasted meat thick in the air. The meal. The feast.

What was it?

What had they been eating?

Your stomach twisted violently.

“You didn’t smell the food? I mean, you didn't smell it coming from the cafeteria?” you asked carefully, voice thinner than intended.

Grim’s ears twitched. “Huh? What food?”

You swallowed. “From last night. Did you smell anything… different?”

Grim chewed on a piece of meat before shaking his head. “Nah. If there was somethin’ good cookin’, I’d have woken up! You know me, I never miss a good meal.” He paused, then added, “You’re out for like, five minutes this mornin’ when I woke up lookin’ for ya, but you’re back real quick. So nothin’ exciting happened.”

"Are you sure?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper. It came out wrong—too frantic, too desperate. You were already standing before you realized you’d moved, your fingers tangled in Grim’s fur, gripping him too tightly. His ears folded back, startled.

Ace paused mid-chew. Deuce’s spoon hovered just above his bowl. Their expressions shifted into concern. They were watching you now.

"Is everything alright?" Deuce asked carefully.

"Did something happen?" Ace added, squinting.

But you couldn’t answer. You were spiraling. Because now the questions were forming too fast. There was no feast in the cafeteria. There was no scent. Grim didn’t wake up.

Grim always wakes up. Especially when there’s food involved.

Last night—what had woken you up? The smell of food. Delicious, roasted meat. Mouthwatering in its pursuit to awaken you.

Your breath caught. The blood in your veins felt like ice, and yet your skin burned.

Your knees nearly buckled. The walls of the cafeteria shifted—no, not physically, but perceptually. Like something behind your eyes had clicked out of place. The light above flickered once, and it made you flinch.

None of this is right.

"Are you sure Grim?" you snapped, louder than intended. Grim scrunched his eyebrows. You had never raised your voice at him like that before.

"I'm tellin' ya, there was nothin’!" Grim barked, voice tinged with rising fear. "I was asleep all night! You were beside me—I even snuck under the covers ‘cause you were shiverin’ like crazy! And you’re back so fast, nothin’ coulda happened!"

The breath left your lungs.

You were cold. You were shivering. You remember running, escaping into ramshackle where Crowley waits for you at your door—

Huh?

He's waiting. He knew. They knew you knew. Had they been watching you?

Then a hand clapped down onto your shoulder.

Your vision blurred, ears rang, your pulse exploded in your ears. Every muscle in your body seized. You were already turning—slowly, too slowly—before your mind could even form the thought.

You let out a shaky exhale. The familiar cut of blonde hair, and his hat obscuring your vision.

Rook Hunt, smiling that too-perfect smile. That predator’s glint. His hand on your shoulder was warm.

“Ah, trickster,” he greeted you, voice low and unhurried, “you seem troubled. Did something unnerve you?”

His grip was gentle, but it felt like a shackle.

He was standing too straight. His posture, like a marionette held upright by unseen strings. The skin on his cheeks was pale and tight, and in the flickering cafeteria light, it looked almost translucent.

You swore you saw something twitch beneath it.

A vein? A muscle? A worm?

“Your heart,” he said suddenly, tilting his head with the grace of a falcon mid-dive. “It beats quite loudly even now. How beautiful! How human, oui!”

Your breath caught in your lungs, your heart thrumming in your ears.

Grim looked up at you, confused and scared. “What’s goin’ on?” he whispered.

You looked down at him.

You should’ve seen reassurance in his eyes. Instead, you saw your own panic reflected back at you.

Your gaze darted around the bustling cafeteria, the once comforting sounds now grating on your frayed nerves. Ace and Deuce were still staring, their earlier concern morphing into something akin to alarm at your sudden outburst. You could feel their eyes on you, questioning, perhaps even wary.

Somewhere in the cafeteria, you saw Malleus Draconia, nodding at you, words coming off from his mouth and yet you ignored him in favor of the hunter, now intensely staring at you. Eyes boring holes in your skull.

Rook’s smile didn’t waver, but the light in his eyes seemed to sharpen, like a hawk focusing on its prey. His grip on your shoulder tightened almost imperceptibly, a silent warning. The air around him felt different, the cloying sweetness you’d noticed earlier intensified, overlaid with something else, something entirely unsettling.

You had to get away. You had to think. This place, filled with them, was suffocating you. Every smile felt like a mask, every casual touch a potential threat.

Without a word, you pulled away from Rook’s grasp. The movement was jerky, fueled by a sudden surge of adrenaline. You ignored his soft, questioning “Trickster?” and the bewildered looks of your friends.

Run, run. And you did run, not even bothering to apologize to a few students you bumped into on your way outside. Your legs felt heavy, but the primal urge to flee propelled you forward. Think? Where can you go? The library. It’s vast, quiet, a place of knowledge and, you hoped, relative safety. The towering shelves, filled with magic books, offered the illusion of anonymity, a place to disappear amongst the pages.

You pushed through the heavy oak doors, the scent of aged paper and dust filling your lungs, a welcome change from the cafeteria’s oppressive aroma. The silence within was a stark contrast to the clamor you’d just escaped, though it felt heavy.

Your breath hitched as you scanned the rows of shelves, the shadows between them seeming to writhe with unseen eyes. You told yourself it was just your paranoia, the lingering residue of the nightmarish feast. Slowly, you tried to inch yourself to a shelf that you could feel can hide your form.

The rhythmic thud of your own heart echoed in the stillness, each beat a frantic drum against your ribs. You risked a glance back towards the entrance, half-expecting to see Rook’s silhouette framed in the doorway, his unnerving smile cutting through the dim light.

But the entrance remained empty. A sigh of relief, left you. Perhaps you ought to thank the Sevens for not abandoning you.

Still, the feeling of being watched persisted, a prickling sensation on the back of your neck. You ducked behind a particularly tall shelf, the musty scent of decaying parchment filling your nostrils. You pressed your back against the cool wood, trying to regulate your ragged breathing.

Think. What did you see? What did Grim say? The feast. The lack of smell. Grim’s insistence that you were shivering in bed after being gone for quick. Crowley waiting at your door. The blood money.

It didn't make sense. It was all disjointed, terrifying fragments that refused to coalesce into a coherent whole.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the images that flashed behind your eyelids: the glistening meat, the too-red drinks, the unsettling smiles.

A soft footstep echoed from the next aisle over.

Your eyes snapped open.

You held your breath, straining to hear over the frantic pounding of your own heart.

Another step.

Closer.

You pressed yourself further against the shelf, your fingers digging into the worn leather of a nearby book. Was it one of them? Had he followed you?

The footsteps stopped just around the corner of the shelf. You could almost feel their presence, an unseen weight in the silent air.

A low, melodic hum drifted from the other side of the shelf. It was a familiar tune, one you’d often heard in Pomefiore.

Rook.

Your blood ran cold. He had followed you. Of course, he did. The hunter always tracks his prey.

You remained frozen, every muscle tense, waiting for him to round the corner, for that unnerving smile to fill your vision once more. The humming continued, closer now, laced with a disconcerting cheerfulness.

Fuck, should punch him? Can you even punch a seasoned hunter like himself? Perhaps you ought to go for his eyes and gouge it as means of protecting yourself because—

You had nowhere left to run.

The shadows in the library seemed to deepen, to coalesce into indistinct shapes. The scent of old paper no longer felt comforting, but suffocating, like the air in your dorm room that morning.

The humming stopped.

Silence descended once more, heavy and expectant.

Then, a soft voice, just inches away, whispered your name.

“Trickster where have you gone?”

Your breath hitched. You remained frozen behind the towering shelf, the scent of aged paper doing little to mask the rising tide of panic. You knew that smile, that voice. Rook’s pursuit was relentless, his fascination bordering on obsession. Escape felt impossible, the library suddenly less a sanctuary and more a gilded cage.

But even as fear constricted your chest, a flicker of something else ignited – a desperate need to understand. What was happening? What did they see you as?

Before Rook could round the corner, a sudden, heavy presence filled the aisle, cutting off the soft sound of his humming. You couldn't see what was happening, but the air thickened.

 You slowed your breathing, it sounds like Leona. The usual cloying sweetness of Rook's presence was abruptly overshadowed by Leona's musky, feral scent. There was a low, almost imperceptible growl, a sound that vibrated through the bookshelves.

Then, the humming stopped altogether. After a moment of strained silence, you heard Rook’s voice, tight and uncharacteristically subdued. "Ah, Roi des Lions. Fancy meeting you here."

Leona's reply was a low, dismissive grunt, a sound that conveyed both disinterest and a clear warning. You could hear them talking, yet you can’t understand a word they’re saying. There was a brief pause, and then the distinct sound of retreating footsteps. Rook was gone.

You remained frozen, your heart hammering against your ribs. Leona, he had intercepted Rook. But why? A shiver, not entirely from fear, ran down your spine.

Then, a shadow fell over your hiding place. The familiar, oppressive scent of Leona intensified. He was there.

A large hand reached around the edge of the bookshelf, the fingers long and calloused against his glove. Your breath caught in your throat. It hovered for a moment, as if considering, before gently but firmly closing around your arm.

A low rumble vibrated from his chest, a sound that seemed to resonate deep within you. "There you are, little herbivore." His voice was a low purr, possessive and undeniably dangerous.

He pulled you from behind the shelf. His amber eyes, narrowed and intense, locked onto yours. Raw hunger in their depths.

He reached out with his other hand, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. You flinched. Fuck, first it’s Rook now its Leona. His touch sent a strange mix of fear and a bewildering sense of nervousness through you.

"You're trembling," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips. His breath was warm against your skin. "Calm down herbivore, anyone can smell how scared you are." 

Before you could speak or even fully process his nearness, a voice, smooth and deceptively calm, echoed from the library entrance.

"Leona-senpai," Jade began, his voice carrying clearly through the silent space, "how refreshing to see you out of your den. Have you finally decided to grace us with your presence?"

Leona’s grip on your arm tightened almost imperceptibly. His gaze flickered towards the entrance, his expression shifting from possessive intensity to a simmering territorial snarl. He didn't release you, but his attention was momentarily divided.

Floyd’s more chaotic presence followed Jade’s voice. "Yeah, sea lion-senpai! What'cha doin'? Did you find some tasty shrimp?"

Leona’s eyes flicked back to you, coldness in his stare before he turned slightly to address the approaching twins, still keeping you close.

"Spare me your insincere pleasantries, Leech," Leona growled, his voice low and dangerous, addressing both with their surname. "I'm here on more pressing matters." His amber eyes flicked back to you, a clear claim in their depths.

"Pressing matters?" Jade's smile widened, revealing the unsettling rows of teeth within. Eyebrows scrunched in amusement, "Or perhaps you're simply ensuring our little Prefect doesn't get lost in the stacks? How considerate."

Floyd chuckled, a low, gurgling sound that made your skin crawl. "Lost Shrimpy? Maybe they were lookin' for a snack!"

Leona’s grip on your arm tightened further. "Watch your tongue, Leech. Or you'll find it missing." His hold was a tangible thing, a protective barrier he was erecting around you.

Jade’s smile didn’t waver. "Such territorial behavior, Leona-senpai. Almost endearing. For a land-dweller, I suppose. But the Prefect is quite capable, I'm sure. Not easily swayed by the dry heat of the savanna." His gaze flicked to you, lingering for a moment too long, a silent challenge in his eyes.

"Capable of getting into trouble," Leona retorted, his voice calm and oddly deep, his grip tightening around your waist. "Unlike slippery eels who can't keep their fins to themselves in open air."

Floyd took a step closer, his mismatched eyes fixed on you with an unsettling curiosity. "Shrimpy looks scared, sea lion-senpai. Is all that dry fur makin' 'em nervous? They probably prefer the nice, cool deep."

Leona smirked as he pulled you closer, only did you notice that Floyd looks… irritated. The beastman clearly enjoys taunting the merman. "Back off, Leech."

"Not your food?" Floyd tilted his head, his voice deceptively innocent. His mismatched eyes, gleaming, one gold the other teal, "Thought land-beasts only liked dusty bones."

"Perhaps, unlike the soggy fishes you call food," Leona retorted, the composure in his voice leaving no room for argument. He tightened his hold on you, his gaze daring the Leech twins to challenge him. The air crackled with unspoken threats, a silent battle for possession being waged right over your head.

Your breath caught when Leona suddenly leaned in—his nose brushed the nape of your neck.

You froze.

Is he—What the fuck—is he sniffing you??

His gaze not leaving the twins, especially Floyd, whose jaw is clenched. Wait, is that a vein popping in his neck?

"This is getting us nowhere," Jade said, his voice smooth but firm, though a hint of irritation flickered in his mismatched eyes. "We are both distracting the Prefect. Unlike certain sun-baked simpletons, we understand the value of time."

"Simpleton?" Leona's smirk deepened. "Heh, coming from a glorified barnacle scraper. At least I don't smell like low tide and dead fish."

Floyd’s eyes narrowed. His grin twitched wider, too wide. “Hehehehe…” Then his voice dropped, low and sharp. “Bet your blood tastes all gritty.”

His fist clenched. Shoulders rolled. Jaw slacked and ready to bite. He was about to move—fast.

Before Floyd could do, Jade’s hand shot out, his grip surprisingly strong as he clamped down on Floyd’s arm. "Floyd. Control yourself." His smile remained, but there was a steel in his voice that even Floyd seemed to heed, though his mismatched eyes still burned with animosity towards Leona.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, You’re going to die as a casualty between the land and sea montsters. Sevens damned it.

"We wouldn't want to keep you, Prefect," Jade continued, his unsettling smile now directed solely at you. "We know you have important things to do. Unlike some beasts who just like to mark their territory." His gaze flicked pointedly at Leona’s arm around your waist.

His words were a dismissal, but the intensity of the possessive energy radiating from both Leona and the twins left you with a chilling certainty, as if you were caught in the middle of something far more dangerous than a simple rivalry, a primal clash between land and sea, and you were the contested prize.

"Get off me!"

You try to push Leona off of you, knees weak from the lack of sleep and… what was that tension? It was so thick you could slice it cleanly with a knife. 

Besides, Why are they so territorial with you?

The hallway, once a place of peace, now felt like a cage, the air thick with simmering threats. You needed to escape, to find somewhere, anywhere, that felt safe.

The image of Ramshackle, however dilapidated, flickered in your mind. At least there, the dangers were somewhat predictable. Here, surrounded by these powerful, unnerving figures, you felt like a fragile insect pinned beneath their gazes.

With a subtle shift, you tried to disengage from Leona’s hold, a small, almost imperceptible movement. His grip tightened fractionally in response, a silent reminder of his claim. The casual dominance sent a fresh wave of panic through you. You had to get away.

As if sensing your distress, a familiar, lilting voice echoed down the hallway, cutting through the tense atmosphere. "Ah, there you are, my little nightingale! And what a lively gathering we have here!"

Lilia Vanrouge approached, his movements as graceful as a bat. His red eyes, however, held a curious, almost knowing glint as he took in the tableau: Leona’s possessive grip, the Leech twins’ simmering animosity, and your own palpable discomfort.

"My, my," Lilia continued, his gaze now settling on you with a gentle concern that somehow felt just as unnerving as the others. "You seem a tad flustered, Prefect. Is everything alright?"

Before you could stammer out a reply, Lilia’s gaze flickered past you, a hint of a sigh escaping his lips. "Oh dear. It seems our young master is in a bit of a mood."

His words were casual, but you could sense a shift in the air, a subtle drop in temperature, a prickling sensation on your skin. It was as if an unseen weight had settled upon the hallway.

"Malleus-senpai," Jade’s usual smooth tone held a hint of apprehension. Even Leona seemed to stiffen slightly, his grip on you remaining firm but his attention clearly diverted.

Following Lilia’s gaze, you saw him. Malleus Draconia stood at the end of the hallway, a figure of imposing grace and barely contained displeasure. His serpentine green eyes, usually alight with a quiet curiosity, were now narrowed, a storm gathering within their depths.

He wasn’t yelling, wasn’t making a scene. In fact, he was perfectly still. But the silence emanating from him was more deafening than any shout. You could feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and accusatory, and it was directed squarely at you.

You remembered your hurried departure that morning, the gnawing anxiety that had prevented you from seeking him out. You had been so consumed by the lingering horrors that you had inadvertently slighted him.

And now, witnessing the scene before him – you in Leona’s possessive grip, conversing with the Leech twins – his silent fury was palpable. It was the fury of a powerful being who felt overlooked, perhaps even betrayed.

A low, almost mournful sigh escaped Malleus’ lips, a sound that somehow amplified the oppressive silence. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, but the sheer intensity of his displeasure was enough to make your blood run cold.

Lilia chuckled nervously. "Now, now, Malleus, my dear boy. There's no need for such theatrics. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for this little gathering."

But Malleus’ gaze remained fixed on you, unwavering and accusatory. It felt like an invisible weight pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe. The possessiveness of Leona and the unsettling interest of the twins suddenly seemed almost manageable compared to the silent, wounded power radiating from Malleus.

Your instincts screamed at you.

You need to get away.

This hallway, this school, was a pressure cooker of unspoken desires and grudges, and you were trapped dead center. The urge to flee, which had momentarily subsided in the library, surged back like a tidal wave. You needed to disappear—to find a place where you weren’t the object of such intense attention.

Before anyone could react, you moved. With a surge of adrenaline, you twisted out of Leona’s grasp. The unexpectedness of it caught him off guard for a second. You didn’t look back at his surprised snarl, or the Leech twins’ curious gazes, or even at Lilia’s astonished expression.

You fled, the echoes of your frantic footsteps chasing you down the long, silent hallway. Each turn led you further into the labyrinthine depths of Night Raven College, away from the immediate tension, but not, you suspected, from the underlying danger. The oppressive atmosphere of the school clung to you like a shadow, a constant reminder of the powerful forces at play.

Finally, you reached a quieter section of the corridor, the ornate portraits on the walls your only silent observers. You leaned against the cool stone, catching your breath, your mind racing.

Truthfully, you were on the edge of a breakdown.

A subtle hum vibrated through the stone beneath your hand, the same low thrum you sometimes felt near Idia's tablet. The temperature in the hallway dropped, sending shivers down you. A heavy silence fell, broken only by the distant, rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock. You straightened, a sense of unease prickling at the back of your neck. The air crackled with unseen energy.

Suddenly, there ia a ringing in your ears and a flash of green light.

Malleus appeared at the end of the hallway, his figure imposing even in his stillness. His jade eyes glowed with an intensity that bordered on otherworldly, and the very air around him seemed to vibrate with restrained power. He began to walk towards you, his movements deliberate and inexorable, like a force of nature that could not be stopped.

You backed away, your heart pounding against your ribs. Fuckfuckfuckfuck, you thought. There was nowhere to go. To your left and right, the walls were solid stone. Behind you, the way you had come was now blocked by Malleus, his presence filling the corridor, cutting off any hope of escape.

He didn't speak, didn't utter a single word, but his intent was clear. He was cornering you, herding you, like a predator closing in on its prey. The wounded pride, had coalesced into a raw display of power, a silent demand for your undivided attention.

You stumbled backward, your hand reaching out to find purchase on the cold stone wall. Oh my god, I'm gonna die, you thought, the panic rising in your throat. Malleus continued his advance, his gaze never leaving yours. You could feel the ancient magic radiating from him, a force that seemed to warp the very fabric of the hallway.

You flinched. Damn it. You’re not going to be breakfast for lions and leeches; perhaps a fae will eat you out.

Just as you felt the cold stone press against your back, and Malleus loomed before you, his shadow engulfing you entirely, a wave of blue energy washed over the hallway.

The ornate portraits flickered, their painted eyes widening as spectral code flickered across their surfaces. The temperature plummeted further. A low, distorted hum filled the air, the sound of arcane technology pushed to its limits.

You gasped, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Idia? Why are you here?"

Idia Shroud materialized beside you, his form shimmering and glitching, his blue flames casting an eerie glow. His expression, usually hidden behind a veil of detachment, was tight with a strange intensity. He positioned himself between you and Malleus, his spectral body crackling with dark energy.

"Malleus Draconia," Idia's voice, usually a soft murmur, echoed with an unnatural resonance, distorted and amplified by his magic. “I... uh... strongly advise you to cease your... pursuit,” he said, the words coming in a rush, almost as if he regretted saying them. “The Prefect is clearly distressed. I've, uh, been monitoring the... situation... and your current course of action is... suboptimal. It's, like, totally uncool, fr,” he finished, his tone shifting back to his more familiar, awkward cadence.

Malleus halted, his eyes narrowing as he took in Idia's defensive stance. The raw power emanating from him clashed against Idia's technomancy, creating a visible distortion in the air, a shimmering wave of conflicting energies.

"Shroud," Malleus said, his voice a low growl, the ancient power in his tone barely contained, yet laced with the regal displeasure he usually reserved for those who dared to question him.

"This is between me and the Prefect. Your interference is unwarranted." A flicker of genuine, dragon-like irritation crossed his face. "You were monitoring?" He paused, the word heavy with implication. "Were you observing my every move, Shroud? That is hardly behavior befitting a fellow student." His tone remained calm and measured, but there was an underlying edge that promised retribution.

Idia's shoulders tensed, his blue flames flaring slightly. "I am merely ensuring the safety of the Prefect," he retorted, his voice gaining an uncharacteristic edge, though still laced with his inherent awkwardness. "Unlike some, I do not express my affections through, uh intimidation and coercion. My methods are more efficient, and less barbaric." He subtly adjusted his position, his spectral form solidifying, becoming more present, more real, but his gaze darted between Malleus and you.

"Barbaric?" Malleus's lips curled into a mocking smirk, a hint of ancient amusement in his eyes. "You, who hide behind screens and manipulate the world through cold calculations? You dare to speak of barbarism, Shroud? You wouldn't recognize passion if it burned down your precious server room." His voice was still smooth, but the underlying threat was unmistakable.

"Passion is a destructive force," Idia countered, his voice a low hiss, you blinked. Perhaps you're only releasing this now but Idia is almost as tall as Malleus. 

He cleared his throat, "Ahem, it clouds judgment, leads to  rash actions. I prefer... logic. The Prefect requires a more stable influence, not the volatile whims of a dragon." His gaze flicked to you, a flicker of something that might have been concern in his usually distant eyes, before quickly averting back to Malleus.

The air crackled violently as Malleus took a step forward. The force of his magic sent a shockwave through the hallway, and the ancient portraits rattled on the walls. "You dare insult my heritage, Shroud? You, who are tethered to machines, a prisoner of your own making? You cling to your technology like a child to a security blanket." His voice was rising, the carefully maintained composure beginning to fray.

"My technology is an extension of my will," Idia hissed, blue flames dancing wildly around him. "It allows me to interact with the world in ways you cannot comprehend. I am not limited by flesh and bone, by primitive instincts. I am connected, networked, transcendent." He seemed to be arguing as much with himself as with Malleus, his usual mumbling gaining a feverish, defensive quality.

"This is hardly your concern," Malleus repeated, his voice dangerously soft, the ancient power thrumming beneath the surface. He took another step, and the clashing energies in the hallway intensified, the air growing thick and heavy, making it hard to breathe. It was a silent battle of wills, a confrontation between ancient magic and cutting-edge technomancy, with you caught in the crossfire.

As the two powerhouses clashed, their words laced with barely restrained animosity, you saw your chance. The hallway is awash in a storm of conflicting energies, their attention completely focused on each other. 

Gotta go, gotta go, gotta GO, you thought, seizing the opportunity, turning and sprinting in the opposite direction, putting as much distance as possible between yourself and the escalating confrontation.

You heard both of them calling your name, yet you didn't turn back.

Fucking hell, you can never get a break.

You didn't stop running until you were far from the sound of their voices, the echoes of their magical clash fading behind you. 

You sniffed, gosh what did you do to deserve this? There’s a mix of emotions within you. You bite your lip as you try to control your emotions.

And then a gasp left you.

Rook Hunt stood in the shadows, his smile impossibly wide, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. He seemed to be waiting for you, his presence radiating a hunter's focused anticipation. The relief of escaping Malleus and Idia was immediately replaced by a fresh wave of unease. 

You are trapped again.

He stepped forward, his movements fluid and graceful, like a predator stalking its prey. But unlike Leona's raw possessiveness or Malleus's overwhelming power, Rook's felt different.

It is more... intimate, more focused, a burning obsession directed solely at you, masked by his theatrical charm. 

A human's obsession. 

"Ah, mon petit trickster," he purred, his voice a melodious caress that sent shivers down your spine, but now those shivers were icy, laced with dread. "Have you finally tired of our little chasse? Such a delightful game of cat and mouse, but the hunt is nearing its exquisite consummation. The rarest of ingredients is finally within reach."

You backed away, your hand instinctively reaching behind you for the cold stone wall. 

Sevens damned it.

The coldness seeped into your skin, mirroring the chill that had settled in your bones. "Rook, what do you want?" you croaked, your voice barely a whisper.

He chuckled, a sound that was both charming and deeply unsettling, like a perfectly tuned instrument playing a dissonant chord. It scraped against your sanity. 

His gaze intensified, his eyes tracing the contours of your face, your neck, your form, as if committing every detail to memory, preparing for a feast he alone was invited to. A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes as he remembered the others. The beastly hunger of them, Rook frowns.

They had no right. 

He is the hunter here. He found you first. You were his prey. And the thought of being prey, of being his, sent a fresh wave of nausea through you.

"Your essence," he whispered, his voice thick with a strange longing, "it is an intoxicating bouquet, a symphony of flavors. A tantalizing gout that promises a taste unlike any other. A truly magnifique composition, a culinary masterpiece crafted by the gods themselves."

You felt a wave of dizziness wash over you. His words, his gaze suffocating. The world seemed to tilt, the edges of your vision blurring. You were no longer in a school hallway; you were in the crosshairs of a predator who saw you not as a person, but as something to be consumed. 

The ultimate delicacy, and he was the only one worthy of the meal. The implications of his words, the hunger in his eyes... It is too much. Your mind struggled to process the sheer wrongness of it all.

"You speak of me like...like food," you managed to stammer, your voice trembling, barely audible above the pounding of your heart.

Rook's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with a feverish intensity. A possessive fire burned within them. "Food? Oui, in a manner of speaking. But not crude sustenance to sate a common hunger. You are the rarest of delicacies, And you, my darling, are a dish worthy of gods. The plat de résistance.”

He took another step closer. Shit. Your heart is beating wildly, perhaps this is what animals being hunted felt. 

Immeasurable dread.

Rook chuckled as he reached out, gloves finger tracing the contours of your face, cupping your cheeks and caressing your lips as you gasp. “A complex creation, a multi-layered experience to be savored, to be experienced in totality. Every nuance, every subtle note, every hidden spice... before the final, exquisite taste. The culmination of the hunt." He was close now. Too close. His presence filled your senses, crowding out everything else.

His touch was surprisingly gentle, a deceptive caress that sent a jolt of pure terror through you. It is a violation, an intimacy you hadn't offered and couldn't comprehend. You flinched, trying to pull away, but he held you captive with his intense gaze, his other hand moving to your waist, preventing any escape. His jealousy was a tangible thing, a suffocating pressure in the air between you, thick with unspoken desire and a desperate need to possess.

"I have been watching you, Trickster," he murmured, his voice a hypnotic drone, laced with an unsettling undercurrent of possession.

 "Observed your every move, every reaction. I know the precise shade your cheeks become when you are flustered, the delicate tremor in your hands when you are afraid. I have cataloged the subtle notes of your being. And I find myself...utterly consumed by this grand performance, this exquisite hunt, this... irresistible dish. Mine." The last word was a low, possessive growl, a promise and a threat all in one. It resonated deep within you, a primal fear you'd never known existed.

And then, before you could process his words, before you could react, he moved with lightning speed. His hand, which had been caressing your cheek, moved to your neck—gripping it. You cry a choke out.

His other hand tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly close, eliminating any distance. A desperate, needy, human need, a craving that transcended simple attraction and delved into something darker, more primal. You were trapped, a cornered animal, and the hunter was closing in for the kill.

His lips, soft yet demanding, descended upon yours. It wasn't a tentative exploration, but a claiming. A taking. The first touch was gentle, a mere brush, a prelude. Then, the pressure intensified, his mouth molding against yours, demanding a response you were too stunned to give. 

His lips parted slightly, inviting you in, but also trapping you, making escape impossible. You were drowning in him, in the scent of old spices and something else, something wild and untamed.

The kiss was not gentle, not tender. It was a claiming, a devouring, a desperate expression of possession that left you breathless and utterly bewildered. It is a violation of everything you thought you understood about this strange, twisted world.

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't think. You could only feel the terrifying intimacy of his desires.

His tongue traced the seam of your lips, then slipped inside, exploring your mouth with a thoroughness that sent shivers down your spine. He savored you, as if committing your very essence to memory. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more demanding, stealing your breath and leaving you disoriented and trembling, your senses reeling. Tongue caressing yours and even the sides of your mouth. You cried out when he bit your lower lip as you tasted iron.

Rook is eating your face.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes glittered with a triumphant gleam, a predator sated, for now, yet already anticipating the next hunt. He brushed his lips against your ear, his voice a low whisper. "Your saveur is even more intoxicating than I imagined, mon magnifique trickster. A taste I shall never forget and one I intend to repeat. Soon. Only I..."

You stood there, frozen, your mind reeling, utterly disoriented. What... just happened? The hallway seemed to spin, the ornate portraits on the walls mocking your helplessness. You had escaped Leona, the twins Jade and Floyd, and even Malleus and Idia, only to fall into the trap of someone even more... unfathomable. 

Your legs trembled, threatening to give way beneath you. You were alone, utterly alone, in this nightmare.

Rook’s obsession was human, uncomfortably so. Intimate. Focused. Dangerous.

When he pulled away, his breath trembled against your skin. “Delicious,” he whispered. “More.”

You couldn’t breathe.

And somewhere in the echo of your mind, you finally understood. Rook hadn’t just been watching you from the shadows.

He’d been here all along.

Waiting.

A terrified scream bubbles in your throat. 

Only then with the proximity did you notice that Rook's smile stretches too wide, like skin pulled over something that doesn’t know how to be human. 

You barely get a breath in before something flashes—a pressure, sudden and blunt. You can’t even process where it hit. Head? Ribs? Shoulder? You don’t know. You just know it hurts.

Fuck, fuck, it hurts so much.

A cold ache spreads through you, and you stagger, knees buckling. The world spins sideways.

Colors bloom behind your eyes, nausea coiling in your gut. And then—

Darkness claimed you. 

[smokesandsonatas]

Got back from the depths of the universe to say that JADE LEECH IS SO FUCKING FINE.

HO, IS YOU A MERMAN?!

THIS IS THE CLOSEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN JADE USE HIS SIREN CHARM. HAVE MERCY.

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did you saw book 7 😭😭😭😭 its was such an emotional ride especially malleus with his broken horn, do you think it will grow back?

Hi! Yes I love it! It's an ending truly fitting for Diasomnia (though I wish they grounded it a bit more on reality) and it left more room for more answers. I'll try to combine some asks here.

Crack theories ahead.

Where's Malleus' birth father?

It's confirmed that Malleus doesn't really have enough parental figure growing up, hence he's really attached to Lilia, the only one who is willing to let him have a semblance of normalcy. Malefecia is most likely still grieving her lost daughter, while simultaneously ruling the kingdom. I do like to hc that she loves Malleus in her own ways, albeit not as openly as Lilia.

His birth father is probably still alive. No confirmation of his death, no apparitions via Lilia's magic. He's just... out there. Trying to achieve his dreams of uniting every species.

Will Malleus' horn grow back?

I'm pretty sure it will, they said that it'll take a span of 200 years (?) and that he's guaranteed to "not" overblot during that time, though I need to confirm if what I've read is true. But! I do think something will happen that will push Malleus to the limits. Again. His horns = power. Something is about to happen that is so heartbreaking that Malleus doesn't have a choice but to seek more. Aka, Yuu leaving

Is Lilia strong enough to live a few more hundred years?

I think yes. He actually died, he was just revived by the power of love. Literally. Hopefully it did reset his fae lifespan, adding another 800 years.

What's more?

We still don't know what's the purpose of Mickey appearing every time someone might overblot.

Yuu is the biggest mystery of twst. If it's possible to a trap a powerful Fae into a game, what makes it impossible to not trap a multidimensional being into a one dimension?

Grim and his stones. Grim is most likely related to the ancient magician from 2,000 years ago in Sage Island that is said to have caused a catastrophic event, yet not disowned by its master.

Crowley and even RSA. Book 8 might focus on Yuu, but it might also focus on the player staying at RSA. Remember, there are top 5 mages in the world, one of them is Malleus. Who are the other 4? How powerful are they compared to Malleus, who being a young, inexperienced fae, have already caused such events spanning the realm of dreams, and literally the whole Sage Island?

That's what we need to find out. :))

[smokesandsonatas]

Silver's parents! Lilia using his um, showed it to him. A closure for our sweet knight. TT

Silver Vanrouge looks so handsome.

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Spoilers!! Please mute me.

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King Malleus Draconia of Briar Valley, First of His Name, Prince of Fae, Heir to the Thorn Fairy Queen, and Sovereign Guardian of the Valley of Thorns

[smokesandsonatas]

Open for Commissions!

- $10 for a 1,000-1,500 word fic. 2 slots open.

- Open to Yuume ships, self-inserts, continue an on-going fic or general prompts—just send a clear outline of what you want.

- Can write SFW or NSFW—sky’s the limit. Kindly look at my previous fics for reference.

- Urgently need $20 for my pup.

If interested, please reach out to me here on Tumblr. Thank you!

[smokesandsonatas]

Rereading the onlycams series got me kicking my feet and shit😍

Thanks youuu! I'll try to post more since twst is pulling me back again.

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Malleus is not even the actual king yet and he's already committing some serious international, multinational crimes. This is bad pr for him, good lord.

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Bruh, Idia in the recent story chapters is so hot. Point blank. He just has massive balls to trap a prince of fae into a game, WITHIN A GAME. He's so irritatingly smart he just continues to outsmart everyone. Also the information regarding the twst cast he possesses in order to make the game? I would be afraid of making THE Idia Shroud my enemy. I'm excited to see Draconia and Shroud go throat for throat.

[smokesandsonatas]

Hello everyone! I'll try to answer questions/requests as soon as I can! Thank you for waiting patiently. Also, I'm thinking of opening around 2 or 3 story commissions before or after 2025. Happy Holidays!

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I just read your angst fic and I want you to know that you will be hearing from my therapist ☹️

It's been a while since I opened Tumblr and I'm glad you like it! Hahaha, you can tell your therapist about it and now they'll need a therapist for them too, jkkk!