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mrs-gauche · 2 days

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Let's talk about the Red Lyrium Idol

(…Because it's not like this thing has been discussed to death over the past ten years, right? 😂 *drops my two cents in the Scrooge McDuck money bin*)

Ah yes… The red lyrium idol. The one thing that's given me a headache since 2018, as I'm still trying to figure out how this damn thing could possibly fit into my bazillion tinfoil theories.

Whether it's the first official DA4 teaser in 2018, the Blue Wraith comic series or the entirety of the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, a lot of the supplementary media and promotional stuff setting up the course for DA4 seems to be centered around the idol. Quite literally, in some cases, like this mural from the first 2018 teaser:

It certainly led us to think that the idol won't just be another McGuffin (or so I hope lol), but other than that, it's still heavely shrouded in mystery…

Which is why I will now make an attempt to unravel this and gather every single bit of information we have on it (so far) and maybe that'll get us closer to some sort of answer in the end (actually, it won't, because this got SO long that I had to split this post in two parts lol No one's going to read all of this anyway 💀)!

Look, I just needed to get this behemoth of a post out before we might get an actual substantial trailer tomorrow and none of this will probably matter anymore. 😂💀

(Note: This whole thing was initially intended to be solely for myself to keep track of any information we've gotten about the idol since DA2. But since it's gotten SO long over the years, I figured why not just rewrite it into a somewhat coherent text and post it on here? :D ......Seriously, it's really, REALLY effing long.)

The Idol's Journey so far

To me, the idol always seemed to be something like "The One Ring" in LOTR. A forged ancient artifact with creepy unknown powers that is said to feel "alive", almost as if it possesses a will of its own, seeing as it has somehow found its way from countless random people, back to (presumably) its former owner. It also appears to be somewhat cursed, given that almost everyone who held it at one point seems to have died or gone mad by now (Yeah, I'm very worried about Varric and Hawke 👀).

Let us start with a quick summary of the journey the idol has made in the span of about 12-13 years (not counting the unknown timespan in which the last chapter of Tevinter Nights takes place):

First discovered by Hawke and Varric in an ancient Thaig in the Deep Roads.

Stolen by Bartrand, who then made a quick trip to Rivain.

Sold to Meredith, who turned it into a sword.

Taken out of Meredith's petrified corpse by Carta dwarves.

Sold again to a Tevinter mage, who brought it to House Qintara in Ventus.

Handed to a secret agent of Fen'Harel named Gaius (who was impersonating Magister Qintara).

Traded away to Tractus Danarius.

Handed to Magister Nenealeus at Castellum Tenebris to be used as part of a ritual.

Picked up by Cedric Marquette after the fortress fell, while trying to escape.

Handed back to Tractus Danarius, who then probably (not confirmed) went to Nevarra to perform another blood magic ritual.

Picked up by a Mortalitasi who (maybe) took it to Tevinter.

(Supposedly!) ended up in a vault under an auction house in Llomerryn in Rivain, where it was (supposedly!) retrieved by Solas.

That's quite the journey… that you wouldn't even know half about if you didn't read the comics or Tevinter Nights. But whereas the book and comics were all published after the first teaser trailer in 2018, after which the idol became the center of the fandom's attention and speculation, it should be noted that a connection to the idol was in fact already made way back in 2014, when people noticed that the image of Solas holding Flemeth's lifeless body at the end of Inquisition was very reminiscent of something else.

...Which brings us to the point of what the idol is even depicting to begin with.

Description

Before I'll start to give my own description based on the models in-game, the teaser and concept art, I'd like to quote the people who've actually seen it in person.

In the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, we are being told three tales by three different people, who all describe the same idol differently.

The Carta Assassin: "A couple hugging, too thin to be dwarves - but it's sitting there, glowing softly like a ruby lit by the grace of the Maker himself. […] It's heavier than you'd think - lyrium's heavier than you'd think, too, but this was heavy even for that. When I hefted it in my hand, it was like it wanted to keep moving, like it was liquid inside."

The Mortalitasi: "An idol crafted from red lyrium, which seemed to show two lovers, or a god mourning her sacrifice. It whispered in our minds when we saw it […]."

The Orlesian Bard/Solas: "He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other."

The one thing that all of these seem to have in common though is two figures who embrace each other in some way.

Which is interesting, because in all the depictions of the idol we've seen so far, it clearly shows three people instead of two. Granted, the third figure is a bit cramped up in the back of the crowned figure, but what's strange is that not even Solas himself mentions this third figure.

Most notable though is the crowned female looking figure in the center, which is holding onto the two other figures on each side of the ring shaped object (or it's the two figures holding onto the female?). The figures themselves look rather goulish, deadly or skeletal, with their bone structure clearly visible and all their expressions captured in a mix of horror or torment. The small carved-in lines coming from the middle figure's eye sockets also resemble black tears, much like we've seen on "The Mother" in Awakening.

There's also no sign of clothing, which is all the more apparent on the concept art of the idol, in which the breast of the middle figure is.. much more prominent. lol (We don't make fun of saggy boobs in this house, it's just nature and gravity after all, but for the sake of observation, I will note that they do remind me of Broodmother boobs, too 😂), aside from a hint of what could be a veil on the middle figure's head.

At the bottom of the idol, the lower bodies of the figures seem to fully submerge within its name-giving red lyrium and this "claw" type thing, which is coming off in the shape of crystalline red lyrium spikes at the tail end, though in the concept art and the DA2 model, these spikes were clearly more like red lyrium roots. But either way, the bottom makes it kinda look like it's been broken/ripped off?

We can also see tentacle like features, that remind me of the figures we've seen in the mural in the 2020 teaser and the depiction in the 25th anniversary book that revealed to us what the Archdemons were initially supposed to look like. 👀

I'd also like to point out that in the original concept art of the idol, the ears of the crowned figure look much more pointy to me than in later versions. 👀

There's also this "ring", that I've seen many people connect to how the Veil is often portrayed in Solas' murals.

But if this ring is supposed to depict the Veil, then what could it mean for the crowned figure reaching across to hold that ominous third figure on the "other side"?

And yes, I recognize that this ominous third figure also seems to be missing a left arm, just like another certain main character. 👀

The one thing that stands out the most though, is probably the crown itself. Most people might first associate it with Andraste, when the same shape can be traced as far back as ancient statues of Mythal.

Yeah, there's definitely a pattern here. 😂

That being said…

Connection to Mythal & Solas

Okay, we all know about the theory that Andraste might have been Mythal's previous host, right? We all know about the parallels between Mythal's story, Andraste, Flemeth, etc. And after comparing the idol to Flemeth and Meredith in their moment of death, considering all of the above/following and how old this thing potentially is, I will now make a wild guess here and argue that the idol is in fact depicting Mythal's death.

"He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other. But I could not make out the words, for I fear they were elven."

Not only does Solas seem to hold sentimental value for whoever the crowned figure is supposed to be, while also talking to it in elven, but the way he describes to "caress" the idol in Tevinter Nights does also seem to mirror how Flemythal was comforting him at the end of DAI.

However, I always thought it was a bit odd how Solas describes the idol as "a figure comforting another", when… tbh, "comforting" would probably be last thing that comes to my mind when I look at this...

"Agony" would be more fitting here, maybe? lol Kinda begs the question of how Mythal was murdered, too, with this being her expression in her moment of death? 👀

Without getting too much into it here, if there's one thing we can take from everything we've learned so far about their past, Solas' relationship with Mythal must've been a rather complicated one, to say the least.

"He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face."

Solas calls Mythal "the best of the elven gods", calling her "the mother, protective and fierce", and Solas is even described in the designer's notes as "Mythal's oldest friend" who is all about free will, yet if the spirit origin theory is true and Cole's cryptic comments in Trespasser are in fact about them, it was Mythal who gave Solas a body against his will, potentially bound/enslaved him with her vallaslin, and maybe even forced him to act against his original purpose?

"You should have seen me when I was younger. Hot-blooded and cocky, always ready to fight."

Cole: "You didn't do it to be right. You did it to save them." Inquisitor: "Solas, what is Cole talking about?" Solas: "A mistake. One of many made by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything."

How much of what happened was Solas acting out Mythal's will, or rather, acting out of vengeance and pain in reaction to Mythal's death? How much of it was him acting downright impulsive?

Solas: “Cole is a spirit. The death of the real Cole wounded him, perverted him from his purpose. To regain that part of himself, he must forgive.” Varric: “You don’t just forgive someone killing you.” Solas: “You don’t. A spirit can.”

Or was it Mythal's death itself that "wounded him and perverted him from his purpose", just like he described what happened to Cole?

And what does that say about Mythal then, when she clearly hasn't forgiven her murderers and still strives for vengeance after all this time? What if Solas' own perception of Mythal and all the circumstances surrounding her murder is warped because he was once bound to her? 👀

Anyway. To get back to topic.

So if we assume that the idol is in fact depicting Mythal's death, then that brings us to the next question of why the idol is even made of red lyrium? Or rather, what is Mythal's connection to red lyrium?

We know that red lyrium is tainted blood of a Titan. Mythal was the first to kill a Titan and mine their blood for things we won't get into in this post. So, how did the idol end up in the Deep Roads, anyway? How long had it been there? One thing that's kinda strange to me, is how the DA wiki page about the idol says that it was forged by the dwarves, solely based on the fact that it was initially found in the Deep Roads, when we have no actual evidence for that. We've seen statues of both Mythal and the Dread Wolf in the Deep Road section in Trespasser where the mining of lyrium was undergone, but we don't know if the dwarves even had any part in building them as well.

Would the dwarves forge an idol of the elven deity who conquered them and killed their Titan, if they were somehow forced to do so? We also have to remember that dwarves were and still are the only ones able to actually mine raw lyrium safely, but even the Carta dwarves in Tevinter Nights had to take several precautions in order to recover the red lyrium idol from Meredith's corpse. And even then, many of them still fell shaking or went mad in its presence like Bartrand.

So if it only takes that little exposure to have that much of an effect on someone's sanity, how were the ancient dwarves or anyone even able to create it in the first place? What if the idol was initially made of blue lyrium but was then somehow corrupted?

And if we take one moment to really think about what an idol actually is.

"An object representing extreme devotion and religious worship to a god."

While Solas doesn't think of any of the Evanuris as actual gods, he still seems to hold Mythal at such a high regard that he wouldn't even speak of her at a sacred place like the Temple of Mythal (whether or not that was because he just wanted to withhold any secret ancient knowledge). He's able to fully recite the invocation to Mythal if you bring him with you to her altar. He also looks exactly like the sentinels in Mythal's temple.

I could go on, but generally speaking, there are so many little hints pointing to Solas being a former slave/servant of Mythal that, again, we won't get into here, but it's important to mention when trying to figure out why the idol (presumably) even belongs to Solas.

"The idol's journey is now complete, and it has found its master."

In Tevinter Nights, the Dread Wolf claims that the red lyrium idol belongs to him. He also made sure to punish those who tried to misuse it, going so far as to march in with an entire army of spirits and snapping a guy's neck with his jaw. (Yup, you're better off not to touch the Dread Wolf's stuff for dirty blood rituals, kids.)

"You use my idol carelessly, and in doing so, you threaten all creation."

Additionally, in the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, Charter and other spies conclude that Solas must need the idol for whatever ritual he's planning, while Solas in Bard disguise claims that he's already in possession of the idol now and therefore, I quote, "cannot be stopped". (Though I personally still don't actually buy a single thing about his vivid tale at that auction house, but we'll get back to this later. lol)

And if the idol belongs to Solas, was he the one who created it, or did he order the dwarves or someone else to make it for him? But why would he intentionally make an idol out of red lyrium, anyway? He is fully aware of the dangers and corruption that comes with being exposed to red lyrium and its use. Especially considering that red lyrium is blighted and how he repeatedly expresses great concern over the Blights and gets furious over the Grey Wardens' attempts to preempt them by killing the Archdemons (because he obviously knows more than us).

So, does he know a way to use it without getting corrupted like everyone else? The Seekers of Truth are so far the only ones we've seen to be immune to red lyrium thanks to having their minds touched by a spirit of Faith during their vigil. Could Solas' connection to spirits/his hypothetical spirit origin allow him to use the idol without it effecting him?

But if any of this is true, then l'm again asking myself what even was the purpose of the idol to begin with? Why or when was it created? How does it differ from any other red lyrium, and what could Solas have used it for in the ancient past?

Powers & Effects

So, let's talk about what this thing can actually do (as far as we know).

(Btw, this is the part where I will shamelessly copy a lot straight from the DA wiki, because truth be told, I'm just a German struggling with limited vocabulary and I figured there's simply no way to summarize this any better than the wiki already has. 💀)

Just like any other red lyrium, we know that being exposed to the idol for too long will make you mad/paranoid/possessive/violent, while also grant you special powers, until overuse causes your body to be completely overtaken by red lyrium. It seems to thin the Veil wherever it is currently kept, allowing spirits or demons to interact with the physical world.

It also emanates a song that is slowly turning people who hear it insane.

The Song

"It sings… sick music." "It eats you inside until you're nothing." "It creeps into your thoughts, humming." "They hear a different song. The song behind the door old whispers want opened. They are dead and dark and done." "Songs screaming far away. It wants to wake up but can't remember how."

(- Cole's comments about red lyrium/red templars)

After Bartrand took the idol and left Varric and Hawke to die in the primeval Thaig, he started hearing voices, claiming the idol was "singing" to him. Even after selling it, Bartrand could still hear the idol and was eventually driven mad by its red lyrium.

Three years later, it is discovered that Bartrand had chipped a piece of the idol off and left it in his estate, which causes the house to behave like it was haunted and the Veil was torn.

Then during the "Haunted" quest, Varric himself remarks several times to hear music while walking through the estate, much like the Carta assassin in Tevinter Nights recalled to have heard "music in the wind, like some old song I heard as a kid but can't quite remember" when obtaining the idol from Meredith's corpse.

Important to mention here is that Varric seems to also be the only one in the party able to hear this song.

Varric: "Hey… is that music? Where is that coming from?" Hawke: "In don't hear anything." Varric: "Where is that singing coming from? You hear it, right, Hawke?" Varric: "Where is that voice coming from?" Hawke: "What voice?" Varric: "I can barely hear it… I wish I could make out the words."

Varric also told us that, after Bartrand went mad, he tortured his non-dwarven servants by cutting pieces off them to help them "hear the song".

(And remember, the idol was found in an ancient primeval Thaig in the Deep Roads, sitting on something like an altar, indicating that it was being worshiped by the ancient dwarves as well. Presumably because they too were being influenced by the idol's/red lyrium's song?)

Haunted

During the "Haunted" quest, we learn that the mere presence of a shard of the idol in the estate causes:

"Voices whispering in the walls"

Random objects moving on their own

Apparitions/screaming spirits appear running across the floors

When Varric picks up the piece of the idol, he starts to exhibit the same symptoms of madness Bartrand showed, at which point Hawke can either let Varric keep the piece, or can take it from him with the intent of having Sandal destroy it.

If Hawke asks Anders to diagnose Bartrand in Act 2, he suspects a demon at work, however Bartrand is a dwarf. Instead, he determines that "his mind has been poisoned by something powerful".

In Tevinter Nights, the Carta assassin recalls that, in the attempt to retrieve the idol from Meredith's corpse, most of his colleagues fell shaking and whispering the closer they got to it.

Meredith

After Bartrand sold the idol to Meredith, she reshapes it into her sword Certainty, which does eventually drive her insane as well. It also gives her unnatural powers, such as the ability to animate the statues in the Gallows, and even limited flight capabilities.

(My question is though, were the things happening in that final fight directly caused by the idol or was this just the result of the Veil being already weakened that much by the many terrible things that happened at that place/Kirkwall in general?)

Anyhow, during the final battle at the Gallows, Meredith overuses the lyrium sword, causing it to burst into dust and petrify her into a statue.

Though as we all know now, some part of Meredith seems to have survived somehow, as her… mind(?) or something was shown to now still "live" within the red lyrium somewhere in Kirkwall at the end of Absolution. She (or "it") also seems to have somewhat control over the red templars now, too.

So, how is this possible? What exactly is she now, if it even is herself and not just a manifestation/echo of her memories or something? Could it have something to do with the idol? No one really knows (and we might never find out, if Netflix won't give us a second season, anyway lol), but I do think it's curious how the idol is likely depicting Mythal's death, who didn't actually die either and lived on through the ages as a type of lingering "wisp" clinging to various hosts. 👀

I also want to point out how Solas did suspiciously include Meredith's petrified corpse in his mural in the 2020 teaser as well, placing her right under that ominous upside down figure with the tentacles.

Furthermore, just like Meredith, the idol also seems to be somewhat indestructable. lol After Meredith's sword burst into dust, it regrew inside her petrified corpse (which Solas was apparently also aware of). What's interesting is that it regenerated in Meredith's chest of all places. You know, like, where the heart is supposed to be? 👀

Then there's also this curious line from Anders, when talking about Varric acting strange after obtaining a shard of the idol:

"This thing's magic seems only more potent when broken."

I've mentioned it before, but with the spikes (or roots in DA2) at the bottom part of the idol making it look like it was ripped or broken off of something, you have to wonder if its current state is somewhat broken, even after regenerating.

"Hot-Blooded"

During the Haunted quest, Fenris will remark this:

"Whatever is here is angry."

In DAI, Cole repeatedly comments on how red lyrium feels "very angry" and how it is "less angry when it's cold". We know for a fact that red lyrium emanates a noticeable heat. A corrupted Bartrand is especially weak to cold/ice magic.

While anger is generally associated with heat, I find this aspect particularly interesting, given that red lyrium is tainted blood of a Titan.

And building on that, while still searching for further connections between red lyrium, the idol and Mythal… Remember how the ancient sarcophagus in the Blue Wraith and Dark Fortress comic was used in a ritual, in which lyrium combined with fire of a Great dragon carved lyrium infused markings into Fenris' and Shirallas' skin, granting them special powers.

Not only was this ancient sarcophagus specifically built only for elves, and its design resembling that of Mythal's statues…

…but here we have a case in which lyrium is purposefully "set on fire" by a Great dragon to create "elven super soldiers". Mythal is always depicted as a dragon. And she mined lyrium in humongous amounts.

Again, red lyrium emanates heat. If this was common practice in ancient times, then I feel like it's not surprising that a Titan would eventually be pretty damn angry in reaction to its blood being continuously burned for centuries [insert boiling blood joke here].

So, aside from the red lyrium being blighted, could there be a connection in Mythal burning the Titans' blood? As far as we know, it did take a couple of aeons in which Mythal (presumably) continued to mine (and burn?) the Titans' blood, before the ancient elves sealed the Deep Roads for good, because they discovered something… bad. As Solas himself declares in the vision described at the mural depicting a Titan's death:

"Let this place be forgotten. Let no one wake its anger." "The vision grows dark. An aeon seems to pass. Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic." "Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast."

And there it is again. That anger we're talking about. What's so interesting to me, is how this does sort of come full circle with Mythal and the idol after all, since the motivation behind Mythal's actions, even after thousands of years, remains her unwavering desire for vengeance upon the people who betrayed and murdered her, which, in a way, does mirror the same anger/heat that the Titan is emanating from its tainted blood.

And speaking of blood……

A Ritual Blade

In Tevinter Nights, we learned that the idol is able to produce a blade, which is then used as part of a blood magic ritual.

"The Tevinter mage was killing his slaves. […] He had cut the throat of one of them, and then another, catching the blood of his victims on the idol as he made his way around the circle. […] The Tevinter mage raised the idol before him, and I saw a spike of lyrium spring from the base of the idol, so that all at once, it was not merely an idol, but a ritual blade. He slashed his own hand, and a wave of power pulsed through the cavern. It was as though we were the blood, and the cavern was the body through which it flowed, and we fell, all of us, to the ground, our minds pulled into the raw chaos of the Fade by the power of his ritual."

In the end of the Dark Fortress comic, the idol produced another red lyrium sword, that could be fully detached and was then placed onto the before-mentioned sarcophagus, turning Shirallas into a raving beserker that was pretty much invincible as long as he was in possession of that same sword.

While the blue lyrium infused sword that was used in Fenris' ritual simply dissolved in the process, the sword produced by the idol could "regenerate" and was especially resistant to Great dragon fire.

"Unlike the lyrium-infused swords of the so-called Arcane warriors, this sword should survive the ritual."

In the final fight against him, Marquette comments on how Shirallas "feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins" and how in turn "the sword heals his wounds".

So in both the comic and Tevinter Nights, the idol/the weapon produced from the idol seems to draw power specifically from the blood of its wielder. It makes me wonder if it was initially intended to be used this way, since we have to remember that it still presumably belongs to Solas, who claims to not practice blood magic, because it seems to make it more difficult to enter the Fade.

Which is ironic, given what the mage in Tevinter Nights did to disrupt the Fade, but also how the Magisters Sidereal used a massive blood ritual to enter the Fade physically.

And oddly enough, in your first conversation with Solas about blood magic, he makes this curious analogy with daggers as an example…

Inquisitor: Every time I've seen blood magic used, it has been for some evil purpose. Solas: I once saw a woman being stabbed in the stomach with a dagger. She died slowly, in angony. It was repulsive. If the Chantry outlawed daggers, would that stop the people from using it? Of course not. […]" Inquisitor: "You don't need to sacrifice a slave's life to make a dagger." Solas: "I suppose it depends upon the dagger."

So… Could Solas be referencing Mythal's death here? Or what if the dagger here is referring to the idol in its blade form? What the heck does he mean by "I suppose it depends upon the dagger"? Was a slave's life sacrificed to create the idol maybe?

But if blood magic wasn't the sole purpose for why it was made, then what else could the idol as a ritual blade be used for?

Which brings us to…

Dalish mythology

According to Dalish legends, Fen'Harel told the Creators and the Forgotten Ones that the Avvar had forged a "terrible weapon", a blade that would end the war between both clans of gods. He told the Creators that it was forged in the heavens, while the Forgotten Ones were told that it was hidden in the Abyss. And when the gods went seeking it, Fen'Harel sealed them both in their realms forever.

Okay. So, let's just assume for a second that the blade in this legend was actually the idol in its blade form. Because hell, what are the odds of having two "super powerful ancient blades that belong to Solas"? lol

If they are in fact the same weapon and the part about Solas tricking the gods is true, why were the Evanuris and the Forgotten Ones so eager to get this thing, to the point that they would fell into a trap?

And with this, I'd also like to point out the level design in the scene in which Flemeth takes Kieran's Old God soul in the Fade. I can't help but feel like the statue of Dirthamen being stabbed in the back with a sword, crying a stream of blood, resulting in a huge pool of blood, as well as a bloody ouroboros symbol on the ground, is a very deliberate design choice. Especially considering the context of this scene with the revelation about Flemeth and Mythal, I'd argue this is all in reference to how Mythal was betrayed and murdered.

Again, the idol could depict Mythal in her moment of death. In the final fresco in the rotunda, the one Solas never finished before leaving the Inquisition, we see a wolf looming over a dragon slain by a blade.

In the last visual of the 2022 cinematic that, going by Varric's narration, could potentially depict the destruction of the Veil, Solas appears to hold something that resembles a blade with a very destinct handle. Additionally, we've since discovered an icon hidden on the Steam page of DA4, that shows a dagger with an identical shape and the same glowy purple as the Dreadwolf title.

So we have the idol in its blade form, the blade Mythal was potentially slain with, the blade Solas is holding in the 2022 cinematic, Solas mentioning a dagger in relation to blood magic and Fen'Harel's blade in Dalish legends.

That's a lot of blades... and a lot of blood. lol

The Hunt of the Fell Wolf

"The Hunt of the Fell Wolf" is the title of a poem that can be found in the Jaws of Hakkon DLC. It tells a story of former Inquisitor Ameridan, his friend Haron and their fight against a demon wolf.

Along with numerous odd things in this tale that could be interpreted as some kind of metaphor (or just the devs messing with us, if you want to know more, please check out this post), it also mentions an "idol of fade-touched stone" in connection to the demon wolf.

The wounded knight in darkness Found within the cavern’s gloom An idol of fade-touched stone, Which could prove the monster’s doom.

In the poem, after a grim fight, the wolf takes Ameridan's friend Haron to its lair, a "labyrinth of winding cave" (which many believe is referring to the Deep Roads, just like the ancient Thaig in DA2 where Hawke and Varric found the red lyrium idol originally) where Haron, oddly enough, also happens to find an idol. What's intruiging though, is that this idol seems to be connected to the wolf in such a way that he can only be defeated if both him and the idol are destroyed and struck down at the same time.

With burning blade, Ameridan And monster met again Whilst elsewhere did Haron valiantly With demon-wards contend.

As demon-stone was shattered, Ameridan struck true: Beast and spirit—both felled at once, Though neither hunter knew.

"Beast and spirit—both felled at once"

Two entities that are connected across two different places… as in the physical body and the spirit maybe?

As in the waking world and the Fade?

So, let's reiterate.

The red lyrium idol belongs to the Dread Wolf. Cole remarks how he can feel that Solas is "in both places". The word "Dread Wolf" itself is an anagram for "World" and "Fade". We've talked about the popular spirit origin theory before, Solas taking a physical form against his will because of Mythal. The whole matter of Solas' "true name" before he called himself Pride. Solas' entire personal quest, which may or may not mirror his own past, a spirit of Wisdom being denied its original purpose, turning into a pride demon ("He wants to give wisdom not orders"). His strange remarks at the end of Cole's personal quest ("We cannot change our nature by wishing"). The fact that Solas makes Cole forget about his true identity, just like spirit!Cole does. The visual portrayal of Solas "consuming" Flemeth's powers at the end of DAI. The way in which Solas doesn't recognize anyone in the waking world as "people", but will vehemently debate you on why spirits should be considered people.

"But the People… They need me." (- Solas to Flemeth at the end of DAI) "Never again." (- Solas after burning the mages who were responsible for Wisdom's corruption) "From this moment, should you ever bind a spirit, your life is mine." (- the Dread Wolf's final warning to the mages in Tevinter Nights)

All of this considered, what could the poem in JOH imply for the connection between Solas and the Dread Wolf/the Dread Wolf and the idol?

"They made bodies from the Earth, and the Earth was afraid. It fought back, but they made it forget."

One theory assumes that the creation of the Veil lead to the separation of the ancient elves' bodies and their souls/spirits, assuming that before the creation of the Veil, the Evanuris somehow made bodies from the Titans/lyrium for spirits to manifest and then enslaved/bound them to their will by marking those bodies with their vallaslin.

But if that's true, then what happened to Solas when he created the Veil?

"He broke the dreams to stop the old dreams from waking. The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap."

In all the murals, tarot cards and illustrations, the Dread Wolf and Solas are always depicted separately.

What really IS the Dread Wolf? And what is he to Solas?

"It was a beast unlike any I had ever seen. Lupine in appearance, but the size of a high dragon, with shaggy spiked hide and six burning eyes like a pride demon, and it came to us on wings of fire that resolved themselves into a horde of lesser demons."

From what little we know of the Dread Wolf himself, he only seems to exist within the Fade (that is to say, before the Veil, Solas was already depicted as a wolf, presumably even before his rebellion and before the Evanuris "bestowed" him with the title "Fen'Harel"). In the Mortalitasi's tale in Tevinter Nights, his army of spirits follows the mages back to the waking world, yet the Dread Wolf himself remains in the Fade. In one of the frescoes in the rotunda, Solas portrays the Black City surrounded by the six burning red eyes that resemble those of the Dread Wolf, almost like he's keeping watch over the eternal prison of those he banished. In the Tower tarot card, the Dread Wolf is ominously looming over Solas, almost like it's about to consume him, while in one of the Trespasser murals, it looks more like the Dread Wolf follows his lead. And then there's the DA4 2018 teaser mural, in which they're opposing each other, only seperated by the red lyrium idol in the center of the Veil.

If the red lyrium idol is connected to Solas like the idol in the poem is connected to the wolf, could this be part of the reason Solas is so desperate to find it? Does it possess some kind of spirit? Can the Dread Wolf only be defeated if the idol is destroyed at the same time, just like in the poem?

Where is it now?

So where's the damn thing now?

Well, in my opinion, there are two options.

Option 1) The bard's tale in Tevinter Nights was complete bullshit. lol

Despite Solas trying to convince us that he already obtained the idol in a vault some time ago under an auction house in Llomerryn, it's possible that, much like his whole charade in that chapter, this tale was also entirely fabricated. lol

To make it short, here is a list of arguments for why the "bard's tale" could've been a complete lie:

Solas attended this spy meeting specifically for information on the idol's whereabouts (because he doesn't actually know where it is currently?).

Everything until the last two pages was an act.

Both the Mortalitasi and the Carta Assassin point out several contradictions within his tale.

Upon hearing the other spies assuming that he needs the idol, it would just make sense that he would want them/Charter to believe that he’s now in possession of the idol and “cannot be stopped”, so that they would drop all effort to find it before him.

On the very last page of the book, there's a lists of bullet points of information when Charter is about to write down her report, and it does not explicitly say “He has the idol” but rather just what it looks like, which suggests that Charter didn’t buy his story either.

So if this was all lies, the last known location of the idol would therefore be the unknown person who took it when escaping from the Dread Wolf's spirit army in the Grand Necropolis in the tale of the Mortalitasi.

Meaning that Solas would therefore still be searching for it now. (Which would actually be kind of hilarious, considering how there's likely gonna be a ten year timeskip since DAI, so he would've been searching for the flippin thing for the better part of a decade now. 😂 We know from the end of the Blue Wraith comics that he had followed the idol's path via eluvian, but maybe he just lost track of it at some point? In fact, the last we heard from him, Solas was apparently busy pursuing some Venatori people to get another ancient artifact called the Crucious Stone in the The Missing comic, much like he prevented the Tevinter mage in Nevarra from using his idol. Solas after ten years of searching for the idol was probably like "Oh fuck it, I give up, on to McGuffin Nr 2 then". lmao)

In an interview with the comic writers Nunzio DeFilippis and Christina Weir, they talked about how in their initial draft of Dark Fortress, Solas actually *got* the idol(!!) from two of his agents by using the eluvian located at Nenealeus' place before BioWare stepped in and requested a change. 👀 That version would've explained how Solas was able to track the idol through the eluvian we see at the end. Their own interpretation was that Solas can only overlook a certain radius within the area of where another eluvian is located. Which would actually support the assumption that Solas might've lost track of the idol at some point after Nenealeus left the place… but that's just their interpretation and not official BioWare canon (yet), sooo…. Hm.

Option 2) Solas has the idol now.

So let's assume that the part about him obtaining the idol in Tevinter Nights was actually true and it's now in his possession.

Aside from this, the only thing that could speak for Solas already having the idol in the beginning of DA4, is once again the final visual in the 2022 cinematic.

If this cinematic is in fact playing at the beginning of the game as a general re-introduction to the lore and the last visual is depicting Solas in the middle of destroying the Veil using the idol, then.. well yeah, there it is, in his hand…. at least, for now. Making Solas succeed in the first 10 minutes, I guess? lol

……Unless!

See, a few years ago, I speculated about how the idol might actually be the perfect plot device/motivation for our new protagonist to get involved in the whole Solas deal without even knowing who he is.

Let's say the last visual in the 2022 cinematic is actually showing us a hypothetical scenario, and not something that has already happened/is currently happening. Like, Varric gives this expository narration explaining who Solas is and what might happen if we don't succeed in getting the idol. (Notice how Varric says "And we're the only ones who can stop him" at the end… Like there's still a chance to stop him before this actually happens.) We know from Tevinter Nights that Charter knows that Solas needs the idol for whatever ritual he's planning. And Charter obviously informed the Inquisition/Varric about this as well. So the next logical step for the Inquisition now would be to obtain the idol (whether or not the bard's tale in TN was true) to prevent this ritual at any cost, right?

The comic The Missing re-emphasized that Varric is now in charge of getting people that Solas doesn't know. And this might be where the new protagonist gets recruited by Varric (who is still a spymaster after all) and gets assigned the alias "Rook" for a heist mission to obtain the idol. (And after a very thorough observation of the DA4 reddit leaks from 2023… it looks like Rook might've actually succeeded in this potential quest?)

While we don't know when the stuff in the leaks actually takes place within DA4's storyline, I think it's safe to say that Rook will obtain the idol at some point in the story and that it will play a pivotal role, if the blurb on the Steam page for DA4 is to be believed. lol

As well as what could likely end up being the game's icon, found on the Steam page.

And again, remember how in the Hunt of the Fell Wolf poem, it seemed like Ameridan struck the wolf’s body in the waking world, while his friend Haron killed the spirit (inside the idol?) in the Fade. What could this imply for DA4 then, if we are applying the role of Ameridan, Haron and the wolf in this tale to the Inquisitor, Rook and Solas?? 👀 Is this how we can stop him? The Inquisitor confronts Solas in the waking world, while Rook has to destroy the idol/fight the Dread Wolf in the Fade?

Or could it just be a metaphor for the Inquisitor in DA4 keeping Solas occupied to distract him from Rook, while they can figure out another secret way to deal with him/how to get/destroy the idol?

See, the thing is, we have to remember that this is after all, a video game. lol Meaning that, if our protagonist gets to carry around a powerful ancient artifact/weapon, I would assume that this has to be somehow implemented in the gameplay as well. What we can take from the short footage of the 2023 reddit leak, is that Rook might carry the idol (if it really IS the same thing) while still fighting with their own main weapon in combat. So, what if the idol serves as more of a special power tool outside of combat, for example, like the anchor did in DAI, where it can only be used for special occasions? Let's say, the idol in its blade form can't be used in battle but is able to "split" the Veil or reality, like the anchor was able to open and close rifts? Or, if we assume that the idol is something like an ancient phylactery (which btw is my favorite theory and I will talk about in my second post), maybe it can be used as some kind of "tracking device"? Actually, I'm super curious to learn how Rook is even able to carry it like this in the first place, since we know what kind of effect it usually has on people. lol

~~~~~

Anyway, I'll make a hard cut here now and save the rest of this behemoth of a post for a second separate post (because I also just realized that tumblr doesn't let me add any more images 😂💀), so if any of you actually made it this far... thank you for being just as crazy as me about this and I will post the second part shortly after. lol ❤

#tinfoil time #da4 #red lyrium idol #solas #dragon age 4 #mythal #good god that got long 💀💀💀💀

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dark-night-hero · 19 hours

Text

Imagine Al Haitham opening his house only to realize how silent and cold it has become. Looking around, the light into the living room has off, making him wonder if no was around the house which was strange. It should be around the time were you were at home but then again, he himself have nothing to say since he was usually still out during this time. Today just happened to be the day where he found himself under time at work.

Imagine Al Haitham who quietly made his way into the the house, was about to open your shared room when he realized it was already open, left unlocked as he went high alert. He stood there for a moment, looking around for any signs of intruder, mind going miles as he suddenly thought of you. Is that why you are not there to welcome him as usual? Because something happened to you- sniff.

Imagine it was soon followed by a fit of sobbing. Unlike before, he turned stiff in place. Suddenly not knowing what to do. Al Haitham have seen you cried before, but it was often due to happiness. And now that he was hearing those seemingly pain sobs that he knew you were trying to hide. He does not know what to do. Should he enter the room and comfort you? Or should he walk away and give you more time for yourself? If he happened to work just in time like usual, would ever knew you were in such state?

Imagine for who know how long, you heard the sound of the door slamming causing you to flinch. You had just finished your breakdown for some time now. Maybe it was the stress or maybe it was something else. But today was just one of those days were everything seemed to be going south and before you knew it, you found yourself locked into your lover's room on tears, losing track of time. Come to think of it, it was about time Al Haitham went back. But then again, you were a mess. You just finished crying a little while ago, you still have not washed your face. In the end, you found yourseld under the covers when there was a knock on your bedroom door.

Imagine the shift of weight of the bed upon feeling his presence. You are tense, not knowing what to do if he were ever to see you in such state. And to your concern, you felt his hand reach out upon feeling his hand right on your head. "Are you awake?" His question made you sniff. He knew. "I bought some stuffs back in the dinning room, care to join me for a meal? It's late." There he was speaking so gently as you felt him caress your head gently through the sheets in unknowingly make you tear up and you sniff once again. You then felt him pat you gently before there was a shift of weight in the bed again. "I'll be waiting, hmm."

Imagine just in time as Al Haitham finished setting up the dishes and plates, you emerged in the room with an exhausted look on your face. Nevertheless there was a small genuine on his face that brings you comfort as he opened his arms to welcome you. "Come here." And you did, no questions and hesitation, you throw yourself at him as he warp you in his arms. Once you do, you found yourself crying once again but, "It must have been hard, hmmm?" You felt him caress your head, running his fingers in your hair. "It's alright." He pat you onnthe back with his free hand. "I'm here now."

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024° :(

#dark night hero #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin comfort #dude my mind is pulsing of how much of a bad ans stressfuk day this is #genshin alhaitham #al haitham x reader #al haitham #al haitham imagines #al haitam x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you

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slutt4ellie · 3 days

Text

Hearts Over Hierarchy

PT4 - Forgiveness Or Farewell

Loser!Ellie x Popular!Reader

masterslist

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3

Do opposites really attract?

Summery - Ellie has the least bit of concern of rekindling what you broke, and on the other hand you and Emily haven’t talked about what happened.

Warnings -> Miscommunication / THIS CHAPTER IS MESSY NGL. / Sexual themes mentions / Cut off sex 🤨 / Reader is PROBLEMATIC / feelings are heavily disregarded / brief mentions of Skater!Ellie / (Lmk if I missed anything else.)

WC: 5.1k

(Not proofread)

You’ve tried again and again to get Ellie to talk to you.

She just won’t, she’s blocked your number, has avoided you through campus, and it almost feels like before you knew Ellie.

She just hardly made an acknowledgment she even fucking existed. And that you hated.

Because now since Ellie’s entered your life, picturing her not in it seemed impossible.

And it’s been only a week since Ellie saw you swapping spit with someone you assured her was just your “friend”.

And you genuinely feel like you’re going crazy.

Because if you can’t last a week without her, you don’t know how you’re going to last any longer. It just fucking sucked.

You wanted everything to just sink into the ground and forget any of this happened.

You especially wanted to forget everything that happened with Emily.

Despite you saying you were going to talk to Emily you haven’t got around to it.

Not because you didn’t want to, but the night after the party she had family stuff she had to do. It was planned before everything between the two of you happened, so it couldn’t be avoided.

At least that’s what she’s been telling you.

You’ve texted her a lot, it feels like a parallel with you and Ellie almost, you guys both haven’t discussed what you are, or what is even happening between you two but again it seems oddly romantic.

And that’s just through texting.

Another thing that you’ve been blocking is what happened the night of the party. The one where you and Emily kissed. The drive home was almost silent. Just you and Emily reminiscing in silence both trying to figure out what the fuck happened.

But what unfolded once you reached inside the comforts and privacy of the sorority was something you could have probably gone without.

Because not only did you and Emily kiss once you reached inside, but it resulted in you waking up in her bed.

So yeah. You fucked up.

You’re whole life seems like it’s been thrown for a curveball and you’re just desperately trying to have it be stable.

You don’t know what you want right now.

Or more so who you want.

Emily’s been there for so long of your life, and do you really want to break that simply because you can’t choose between her or Ellie.

No..

You just can’t wrap your head around why it felt like the kiss between you two was something that had to happen, rather than you wanting it to happen. The same when you guys slept together.

Every time you kissed Ellie you didn’t once feel obligated.

So with that knowledge the answer should be easy?

With one person you feel forced, and compelled, and with the second person it feels almost natural.

Fuck if only it was that easy.

After thinking for a solid 5 seconds you decided to make a split decision, that sulking in bed for any longer then you already had wasn’t going to settle anything.

So you groaned as you lifted your body getting a good glance at your bedroom.

Ellie’s skateboard.

Right! She left it in your car after that night.

All you have to do is give it back? You know where her dorm is.

That can give you two a proper chance of actually talking, no Emily, no one near you two. Just you and Ellie.

All you can hope is that she’ll hear you out. That’s all you need.

So that’s what you did.

You put on some clothes looking a bit overly dressed for a simple return of a skateboard but you wanted to look nice…for yourself..?

Because this really isn’t about Ellie finding you attractive it’s about her forgiving you, maybe even rebuilding a possible friendship.

At least that’s what you hoped.

Because as soon as you got out of your car 10 minutes off campus you see the student dorms.

It’s been a little bit since you’ve been to Ellie’s dorm but you had it memorized. So it really didn’t take long.

Because soon you were faced with her door.

It should be as simple as just knocking, but you’re choked up.

Which is weird because you never usually feel yourself get extremely nervous, while interacting with a girl.

But It’s not really just a girl.

It’s Ellie.

You look at her skateboard and quickly remind as to why you’re actually here.

And with that you knock.

It didn’t take long till you were hearing a trail of footsteps coming from the opposite side of the door.

A voice who’s is not Ellie’s saying “I’ll get it El..”

Fuck- fuck is she with a girl right now?

Now you’re wondering why you even came here because is Ellie hooking up with someone? and your looking fucking desperate on the other end with a stupid skateboard and a shitty apology.

But no. Ellie wasn’t hooking up with someone.

It was just Dina.

Dina was the first to hear about what transpired that night. She knows because Ellie called her immediately after the matter.

She was sobbing and her voice was incoherent.

Just a shit ton of hiccups and desperate attempts to get back air she was losing due to your actions. She was really on the brim of a full blown panic attack but some how she managed to keep that factor under wraps.

Dina pulled up a good 5 minutes after, she wasn’t stupid and knew something happened, but she just didn’t except the site which she pulled up on.

Ellie was sitting on the edge of the sidewalk head deep in her palms fully sobbing.

She hated how she was crying because of you.

It made her feel dumb that you got her in a position that resembled a toddler getting told no.

Either way once she felt a hand on her shoulder and Dina’s voice coming through soft she knew it was over.

Because then more tears were coming through and she stood up with the intent to get into Dina’s car. Try to ignore the awkward question.

Basically just not trying to talk or let the thought of you flow freely through her mind any longer.

“Ellie..?” Dina hugs her softly.

Ellie’s arms wrap out Dina instantly and her head goes deep in her shoulder.

A attempt to hide the fact she was bawling. Which was not thought through, yet did give Ellie comfort.

“What happened.” Dina says pulling back to wipe Ellie’s tears.

Ellie just shakes her head and let’s out a out of breath. “Her..”

There’s only one “her” Dina thought of and it was you.

And yet she didn’t know the story at that moment it’s all she needed to hear that you were cut out of Ellie’s life.

Because not once in their 10+ years of friendship has she ever seen Ellie like that.

Ellie’s had meltdowns, like literally everyone in her life. But even when Cat broke up with Ellie her girlfriend of a year she didn’t have a reaction like this one.

She didn’t completely understand what you could have done to get Ellie in this position but she knows it has to be bad.

“You need to leave.” Dina says, her eyes seem mad and directed to you.

“I just want to talk.? Please.” You beg out desperately.

“Leave.” Dina shakes her head once again.

“I have her skateboard..” You hold out allowing Dina’s gaze to trail off of you and onto the skateboard.

Dina reaches out her palm. A flat surface so you can easily give it to her.

“D-dina can I just talk to her..?” You ask again. Not yet handing the skateboard to her.

Dina’s wants to laugh in your face, because it’s ironic how you ended up kissing someone, yet you’re outside acting like you could cry.

“Are you fucking joking?” Dina says now stepping out of the dorm shutting the door gently trying not to have Ellie assume somethings happening.

“W-what?” You say.

And now Dina does laugh, making you feel like an idiot for even coming.

“You weren’t the fucking one who picked up Ellie after she saw you!-” Dina emphasized on the you by pushing her finger right in the middle of your collarbone. “Fucking kissing Emily or whatever the fuck her name is!”

“I know-I know I fucked up.” You shake your head.

“Is that supposed to offer comfort?” Dina says.

“But it’s not like that?!” You try, but it goes ignored by Dina.

“Are you trying to justify it or some shit?” Dina says.

“W-what no!” You shake your head really fast.

“I’m not! I know what I did- was insanely fucked up! And if I could take it back I would?” You say.

“Well you can’t.” Dina says.

“Stop trying?” She continues.

“Just leave Ellie alone. It’s over and you made that decision..” Dina sighs out.

You look her up and down. Trying to think of anything so Dina won’t walk out just yet.

“..You block me or her?” You spit out nervously. You really don’t know why you’re asking that. It just feels like you should try to talk as much as you can. Maybe Dina will see you actually do care.

“Does it matter?” Dina rubs her hand down her face, a result of being annoyed by you.

“Yeah?” You look up at her.

“Me.” Dina says shaking her head.

“You’re not good for her.” Dina says looking at you.

“I’ve never seen Ellie like that before.” Dina try’s to explain.

She doesn’t like you, or thinks you deserve any sort of explanation, but she thinks you do deserve to realize how much you actually did hurt Ellie.

“As in.?” You questioned.

“It doesn’t matter.” Dina shakes her head slowly going back to Ellie’s dorm door.

“It does!?” You say desperately. About to get another word out.

But both of you gazes are turned at the door when you hear a click signalling it opened.

Ellie has a grey hoodie and baggy jeans on. Her eyes are red.

You know she’s been crying.

Before seeing you in front of Dina’s body she talks. “Dina why are you just fucking out her-“

Ellie gets her voice cut off because she’s looking at you.

Her frown comes back, and her eyes are glossy once again.

You don’t say anything, neither does Dina, and obviously Ellie.

So now the whole hallway is filled with a shit ton of awkward silence..

Dina decides to break it first.

“I was just sending her off.” Dina says turning to look at Ellie.

Ellie hardly responds her gaze pierced on the floor. “Ah..”

“Can we talk?” You say and Dina sighs, she knows Ellie’s going to say yes..

Ever since Ellie sobered up and her anger partially subsided she wanted to reach out to you first.

Dina told her nothing good is going to come from it, and since your number was now blocked on Ellie’s phone she couldn’t really so much.

Dina’s been glued to Ellie’s side so it made it impossible to even see you.

“Yeah.” Ellie immediately responds before looking at Dina.

“I’ll be fine.” She offers a comforting smile.

Dina groans but nods, she knows she can’t fight it. Because Ellie seems to stick to things when her minds focused on it.

So she complied telling Ellie she’ll grab the two of them some food.

And soon you’re in Ellie’s dorm, somewhere where you haven’t been in about 2 weeks.

“S-sorry it’s messy.” Ellie finally pulls down her hood sitting on the edge of her single bed..

“It-it’s fine really..”

Ellie out of nervousness subconsciously start’s fidgeting with her two fingers before spitting out some that feels like fire on her tongue.

“Are you and Emily dating..” Ellie clears her throat as tears again are brewing.

“No.” You say fast shaking you head.

As you feel a singular tear fall down your left cheek you wipe it off. Ellie notices and looks at you.

“I-I don’t even know why I kissed her.” You say.

Ellie doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t want to forgive you, she just doesn’t really want to see you crying, despite the state you had her in a week ago.

“Okay..” Ellie says.

“I don’t know what you want me to do with that information.” It came out cold, but right now she couldn’t act like she was happy.

“I’m not waiting for you to fucking figure out who you want.” Ellie says having you quickly cut her off.

“It’s not like that?” You shake your head.

“Mhm..” Ellie sighs.

“Did you guys-“ Ellie starts but you cut her off.

“Ellie?..” You don’t want to answer it, because the only thing you could reply with would be the truth. That being yes.

“It’s literally a yes or no question.” Ellie presses.

But when no response comes from you, she got her answer.

“Dina was right- you should just leave.”

“Ellie-“ You sigh out.

“No you need to leave.” She says standing up. Clearly her throat so her voice appears as more full.

“I-I can’t..” You say looking at her also standing up.

“Please just leave.” Ellie looks down now tearing up. Her walls feel like their crumbling all over again. The last thing she wants to do is cry in front of you.

You hesitantly move your hand to her cheek.

Ellie’s eyes close and she leans into your touch.

“Do you like me.” Ellie ask.

“Yes..” You say not hesitating.

“Do you like her.” Ellie ask.

“Ellie she’s my best friend.” You say.

Ellie sighs and pulls back opening her eyes. The lights again were just turned on. “Yeah well she clearly fucking loves you?”

Ellie feels like she’s growing crazy the more she talks to you. It’s like everyone but you sees it.

“Dina’s my best friend and i’ve never wanted to make out with her?! Fuck let alone sleep with her!?” She says.

“You don’t get it Ellie!” You yell.

“Then fucking explaining dude!” Ellie yells back.

“Am I a fucking joke to you?” Ellie ask.

“What..” You say looking at her.

“Am I a FUCKING joke.” Ellie yells right in your face. Something that you’re unfortunately getting used to..

Neither of you willing to admit that yelling about it isn’t going to fix shit.

After a long pause you finally talk.

“Would you be my friend if I hypothetically started dating Emily.” You say it like your tired. And to be fair you are.

Ellie doesn’t respond, she just looks down embarrassed. Her anger fading.

Because no.

She wouldn’t be.

And you know she wouldn’t be. Just by the fact Ellie’s eyes can’t meet yours and her teeth are slotted in her bottom lip are a clear sign she wouldn’t be.

Her mannerisms made that clear.

“Exactly.” You say.

“I doubt Emily would want to be friends either.” You clear your throat.

Ellie looks at you.

She doesn’t know what to do, because now she’s currently feeling multiple emotions. It feels like everything is flowing through her mind and she can’t control it.

That she hates.

Because she doesn’t like feeling anger when she looks at you. It’s shitty.

So she takes a step forward and literally just hugs you.

You instantly wrap your arms around Ellie falling into her embrace which grants you in warmth. It’s been a bit since you’ve guys been physical but it wasn’t off.

I guess something you didn’t anticipate is the light kiss on your forehead which followed. But either way you didn’t mention it. It’s literally only been a week and before everything went down with Emily you and Ellie were obviously often being physically. That including kissing.

So even though she hasn’t kissed you in awhile the kiss to your head wasn’t shocking.

“I would never make you pick.” Ellie sighs pulling back.

“Y-you know that.” Ellie smiles lightly. It’s more to comfort you. Because even though she doesn’t want to make you pick she doesn’t want to face you with someone else.

“I just- I don’t think I could be your friend if you dated her.” She looks down.

“And that’s not even fucking supposed to persuade you. I just- like couldn’t.” Ellie says her arms still wrapped around you.

Yours eyes met and it feels again like you again, have a decision. She moves her hand to your cheek and tucks a strand behind your ear.

Ellie’s eyes glance to your lips and she internally leans in.

You also lean in.

You don’t really know who kissed who. But once your lips met the two of you both started making out hungrily.

There was little pants as Ellie’s lips moved to the side of your lips, meeting your jaw, then neck. She sucks accompanied with a bite which is going to leave a mark. You know that and she does too, that being the reason Ellie why she even felt the need to leave a hickey..

She wanted it to be known.

“Fuck..” Ellie pants out moving the both of you to the bed sliding off her hoodie in the process.

It doesn’t take long till Ellie’s pressed on top of you refusing to break the kiss.

Her hands slip on the hoodie out of pure nervousness but she eventually gets it off.

It leaves her in just her sports while she’s desperately trying not to break the kiss between you two.

Your hands hastily find Ellie’s jean button and you don’t waste time to unbutton them..

While her jean button is getting undone her hands go under your shirt squeezing your boobs, again still not breaking the kiss.

It happened fast, because the moment went from making out to your hand inside Ellie’s jeans cuffing get pussy.

As you’re rubbing light circles on Ellie’s clit feeling the wetness through her boxers there’s a consecutive number of knocks.

Ellie’s whole face turns red and she starts to pull back from you as your remove you hand from her jeans.

You guys are both just silently looking at each other wondering if there really was a knock. Or if it was your mind playing tri-

There’s another knock and Dina’s voice talks. “Yo- can one of you grab the door my hands are full”

Ellie scrambles and helps you off the bed first before standing up and buckling back up her jeans.

She watches you slowly walk to the door straightening you clothes in the process.

As you walk to her dorm door you see Ellie’s now back in her grey hoodie giving a signal you can open the door.

Even though you can you hesitate having your hand shadow the door handle, hesitating to open it.

But after swallowing a big chunk of air you do. You see Dina’s gaze travel back and forth between you and Ellie.

Based on Ellie’s flushed cheeks, and how she’s purposefully avoiding Dina’s gaze, you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that’s the fuck was happening.

Or what was going to happen?

“You two were gonna fuck!” Dina accuses putting the food on Ellie’s studying table.

“W-what no!” Ellie shakes her head nervously.

“W-we weren’t!” Ellie talks.

“I was gone for like 13 minutes??” Dina then turns to look directly at you.

“Fuck Ellie you fold so fast?” Dina groans.

“No I don’t??” Ellie says embarrassed walking towards Dina falling right beside you.

“Yeah sure you don’t?” Dina looks back at Ellie rolling her eyes.

“So you two didn’t kiss?” Dina questions tilting her head.

Ellie just groans and grabs your hand out of instinct, again like always she doesn’t really think. She just does it.

“You’re so weird?.” Ellie sighs.

Dina nods and rolls her eyes. “You two literally were about to fuck after I was home for like 5 minutes, but you know! i’m weird..” Dina mutters.

“We weren’t!” Ellie says putting her head in her free hand.

Emily was coming back to the sorority today. And you were nervous.

And if you’re being honest with yourself that was an understatement, you didn’t know what the fuck to do.

It was late and you’ve been staring at your ceiling for what feels like a few hours.

After you and Ellie kissed, you decided to stay the night. Where you guys did end up sleeping together..

And the rest of that night was filled with kissing, cuddling, staying in each others arms all night, and a few hickeys which you now needed to cover.

But then again after that moment with Ellie it became ultimately clear that with Ellie it wasn’t forced..

And with Emily it was.

You hated yourself for feeling that way and there’s a part of you that wishes maybe those feelings could be reciprocated.

Because then everything would be easy.

But no.

You’ve only ever seen Emily as a friend.

And that’s something you had to face.

So when you hear the door open and the other girls greeting Emily you knew she was back.

And you knew you had to talk to her,

As much as you wanted to run away.

You had to..You had to face an awkward ass conversation.

So reluctantly that’s what you did, you turned over getting off your bed, putting on some makeup to cover the few hickeys, and sucked up any nervous feelings, making your way down the stairs.

It didn’t take long till your eyes meeting blue ones.

That’s when the guilt struck. Because you haven’t told Emily what the fuck happened while she was gone, and it’s dawning that you again led another person on. It was Ellie first and now her.

Emily smiles and walks to the end of the stairs where you were coming down.

“Hey!” Emily says hugging you.

“Hi..!” You’re arms wrapped around Emily as she hug you, the thing was you couldn’t hide that your voice was off. Having Emily pick up on it.

Like she always done.

“What’s up.?” Emily uses one hand to cuff your cheek.

“Can we talk.” You clear your throat.

Emily nods and smiles trying to cover her nervousness.

She didn’t understand what could have happened to have you want to talk to her immediately?

“Yeah..course..!” Emily frowns then covers it quickly plastering on an obvious fake smile.

Which you ignored.

With that you and Emily trail to your bedroom.

Once the door is closed Emily sits on your bed and you’re nervously looking down on her.

“W-what’s up?” Emily says.

You look at her for a few seconds. You don’t know how to say it? How to tell her that just a few days after you left you and Ellie kissed? Then slept together.

“I-Em i’m so sorry..” You tear up.

“What..?” Emily frowns again.

Emily stands up and holds your cheeks.

She’s obviously still oblivious, she’s not sure what could have happened to have to freak out so fast?

“What happened..” Emily kisses your nose.

You close your eyes and finally spit out the words that were longing on your tongue..

“Emily me and Ellie we-“

Emily doesn’t even let you finish you sentence before she pulls back.

“Emily..” You reach out and she looks at her.

“I’m not doing this..anymore.” Emily shakes her head tearing up.

You look at her. “Emily you know I love you so much” You nod.

“I just-“ You try to talk.

“You love Ellie..don’t you?” Emily shakes her head running her hand down her face.

“I-I don’t kn-“ You can’t spit it out.

“You guys deserve each other. Don’t worry. You really do.” Emily puts on a fake smile before clearing her throat.

“I’m not gonna fucking beg for your love anymore.” Emily says.

“Emily-“ You try but she just shakes her head.

“It’s fine really.” Emily nods.

“You’ve never begging for my love?” You say again stepping forward which just leads her to step back once again.

“I do love you- you’re my best friend.” You wipes you own tears.

“Exactly!- you don’t fucking..you don’t see me like that. So i’m done” Emily says her voice choking up in the middle.

And it’s true, she was done. She was done.

So now you’re just alone with your thoughts, finally letting it dawn on you what the fuck has happened..

You lost Emily.

The girl who you’ve known for years, left your room on the brink of tears and now it’s starting to feel like you just permanently closed a chapter.

Now no longer being able to open it.

You don’t know what to do. And to be honest that really scares you.

You go back and forth between a decision for a few seconds..

You finally grab your phone out of your pocket, shaky hands and nervousness coursing through your body.

You hesitate to click Ellie’s contact but you do.

Right now you only have one person and that’s her.

Emily was a person you could always go to. whether it be serious or stupid she was always there.

But this time it was about her? And you didn’t know how to handle it without any reassurance.

Leaving Ellie as the next option.

It rang for a few seconds before Ellie’s voice came through. She sounds like she’s been sleeping since you notice a rasp and tired tone.

“Hi?” Ellie says yawning.

“Hi.” Your tone is shaking and you sound like your about to cry. Ellie notices that.

“What’s up?” You can already hear sounds of Ellie standing up probably deciding whether or not you need help or something.

“Where you at?” Ellie questions.

“I’m okay- just wanted to talk?” You don’t want her to go out of her way to come all the way to the sorority.

Ellie didn’t have a car and it was late. You didn’t want her outside.

“Yeah we can talk when I get there? You just home.?” Ellie ask as you hear shuffles only assuming she was putting on her shoes.

“Ellie-“ You sigh choking back a shit ton of tears.

Even though you didn’t explicitly tell Ellie that you’re home she assumed. She could hear a few girls in the background talking so she just took that as a sign.

Ellie talks again. Opening her dorm room door. “It’s okay i’ll be over in like 10 minutes bab-“

Ellie hung up before she could even finish her sentence and now you’re again left with your thoughts.

And that’s when you finally come to the conclusion.

You’re 100% the problem.

You’ve taken Emily and Ellie’s feelings for granted and it’s showing.

You lost Emily and you’re not exactly sure why Ellie sticks around. It doesn’t feel fair to hold both of them by a thread and it was proven when Emily’s broke.

Now it was only time till Ellie’s did.

At least that’s what you were starting to believe.

“Baby..” Ellie sighs leaning into hug you. Putting her skateboard to the side.

You can only respond by hugging her back tears now starting to fall.

“What happened?” Ellie ask pulling back and wiping your tears accompanied with light kisses to the nose.

“Emily..you don’t have to worry about her anymore-“ You clear your and rub your eyes.

“I don’t think we’re friends anymore.” You say trying to plaster a fake smile. Causing Ellie to frown.

Ellie could honestly care less if Emily left, it’s the state that she sees your left in which hurts.

Your hands are shaking when they wrap around her, tears are flowing, and the confident tone she can distinct you for, is gone?

It feels like you’re leaving her, pushing back.

“I’m so sorry-“ Ellie try’s but you wave your hand dismissively.

“No-it’s fine. Really.” You say.

“Why’d she leave.” Ellie ask.

“I told her we-“ You start.

Ellie cuts you off with yet another hug. You can feel her shake her head on your shoulder.

She doesn’t need an explanation. She can use context clues to understand why Emily decided to leave.

But that’s when you finally spit it out.

What’s been going through your mind.

“I can’t do this Ellie.”

You look straight at her.

“What do you mean you can’t do this..?” Ellie now ask.

“You need someone who is good for you. Dina said it and she was right..i’m not good for you?..” You say.

“You can’t be serious.” Ellie looks straight at you.

“What-?” You breathlessly sigh.

“I’m not doing this with you again?” Ellie shakes her head.

And when she said that, you assumed she’d leave. Ending two relationships you had in just one night.

Even though on the contrary it seemed like this would be the worst thing to ever happen for you it gave comfort.

Because with no one around you can’t hurt anyone else…hypothetically at least..?

But Ellie doesn’t leave she just keeps going, and now it feels like her mouth and thoughts might just not stop.

Like she can’t control it.

“Why-why can’t you just understand I don’t fucking want anyone else?” Ellie’s at this point was begging.

Begging for you to understand.

“I’ll leave you alone- if you really do want me too.” Ellie says.

“But since we kissed it’s like the only thing I think about.” She needs you to get that she doesn’t want someone else.

She just wants you.

It’s the reason she’s been going through thick and thin for you. She just needs you to understand.

“I love you..?” It sounded more like a question then a statement.

Because Ellie hesitated to say it even though she meant it.

Plus it being the first time Ellie had ever said that to you made the whole situation all that more intense.

Because you don’t know if you can mentally accept the fact you just might love her back.

So you just look at her.

And now Ellie’s embarrassed.

Because never would she ever want you to feel forced to say it? I guess that’s why it hurt when you didn’t say it back.

Because if you’re not forced and you seemed to have no interest in saying it. You really didn’t love her the way she loved you. That hurt?

Because it put into reality you and Ellie truly weren’t on the same page.

That maybe she was imagining it-

Ellie probably didn’t notice that you conflicted gaze turned more into a determined one as she spaced out.

Because..

Your lips are suddenly on Ellie’s.

Ellie can only respond by pushing her lips hardly back on yours holding you cheeks not leaving room for her to pull back.

And with that, you finally something that’s been longing.

“I love you too.” You say into her mouth.

That’s all Ellie needed to hear to realize it wasn’t some fling.

You loved her.

And she wasn’t letting that go.

A/N -> I KNOW THIS IS BAD.

I DONT WANNA TALK ABT IT.

I literally had zero fucking clue how to end this shit so everything happens extremely fast.

(mainly because I was making the plot as I got to it! 🌚)

BUT! I was gonna do a sad ending where the reader ends up alone so be happy I didn’t stick with that. 🙂

Honestly I was just trying to close off this story so I can put my main focus on Fated Hearts Start With Fire since I have SOO much planned with that 🙏

But I hope you guys enjoyed reading because despite it being ass it is the last one for this series.

(Like and reblogs are always appreciated!)

Taglist : @bready101 @onlinelesbo @amberputh @seraphicsentences @a-little-bit-of-everybody @zoehxnji @graviewaviee @i-feel-violated @elliesexual @macaroni676 @liasxeatt @m4rshm3ll0

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ajsljfe · 1 day

Note

Request for John b (smut): reader is acting like a brat so John b puts her in her place. (daddy kink)

Hihi! Sorry it’s short but I hope you like it!

I promise you guys that I will write longer stuff soon. 🎀

“Daddy no…p-please!” You sob as he pulls you in by the hips and shoves you over his lap ass up. “I’m sorry..”

“Yeah? Fucking should’ve thought of it before you thought I was a good idea to flirt with JJ huh?” He spits out before landing a hard smack on your ass.

——

In your defence, earlier in the night you had been dragged to a party you didn’t wanna go to, due to being forced you chose the shortest dress you owned and strutted in late after him. He was pissed but let you off.

Later while you were getting some drinks at the bar you glanced over to see some girl flirting with him, he wasn’t pushing her off and you immediately got jealous.

Pushing through the crowd with your fresh drink of your choice your eyes landed on JJ who sat at a table on his own nursing a beer.

“Hey j..”you smiled as you sat way too close for John b’s comfort. Running your hand up and down his arm like that girl did towards your boyfriend.

Glancing up you see your boyfriend now on his own glaring daggers at you while the girl was distracted with her friend who sat next to her.

——

“I said I was sor-! Ow! Daddy…” you sobbed harder, tears now flowing from your eyes while he landed another hard smack to your ass.

“Not fucking good enough. What did I say huh? What did I say to you the last time this happened?” He spat as he rubbed his hand over your now sore and red ass.

“Y-you said that you only had eyes for me…” you hiccuped as you tried to wiggle out his grasp.

“What else?.”

“And that I should sto-“ *smack* “ow!” You whined out before finishing. “Should stop acting like a b-brat.”

“And yet here we are doing exactly that.” He says before pushing two fingers into your wet heat before you could realise. You gasped at the sudden intrusion.

He thrusts his fingers in and out of your wet heat as you writhe and wriggle in his grasp. This lands another smack to your ass which makes you cry out and clench around his fingers.

“Fuck me you getting off on your daddy punishing you huh? Letting me manhandle you however I want baby?” You nodded fast as you feel your impending orgasm and the tightening in the pit of your stomach.

“Mhm!” You gasped out as he suddenly managed to go faster, his fingers hitting that gummy spot inside you. “You close baby?” He asks and you nod fast moaning out loud.

“Too fucking bad” he says as he pulls his fingers out and smacks your ass again, pulling your hair in a makeshift ponytail to lift your head up.

“Daddy please!!…” you whined at the loss of his fingers and the ache of your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Nuh uh..you gotta learn for good this time that this is what brats get when they wanna act like a fucking slut.” He says before tapping your cheek and dropping your head back down to lay it on the couch as he rubs your red asscheeks.

#john b smut #john b x reader #john b x reader smut #john b routledge #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #pope heyward smut #pope x reader #obx x reader #thoughts

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theitgirlnetwork · 9 hours

Text

Earn It

Ch. 7: Heaven's Happiness

Note: As always, the love this story receives amazes me. Thank you so much for reading. Thank you for the notes, the reblogs, the comments and messages. Interacting makes this so much fun! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. There will be a lot more time skips from here on out! So you'll all get to know the gang as adults. I will ask that if anyone wants to use my story as inspo for one of your own, or anything else, you let me know, it's more fun that way. I also don't post this or any of my other stuff anywhere else. Once again, hi to my best friend who now reads this story, love you miss girl <3 Anywayyy, I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for reading <3

Taglist:@spookystitchery@anehkael@fkaams@butterflyybabe@sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

Warnings: Some strong language

“She’s very gifted, Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock. The best I’ve seen at this age in my career. You could have a professional dancer on your hands.”

The three adults watch from the observing window as Heaven demonstrates Grand Adage for a group of her peers. Her little back straight and stomach tight as she accomplishes the move with a stern discipline that many adults struggle to achieve.

“We know. So why is she playing Clara?”

“Beatrice-”

“I’m just wondering, Luca, I mean I just believe it’s our right as her parents to ask Madame Sidorov why our 9 year old daughter is teaching the snowflakes that are twice her age the dance she doesn’t get to be a part of.”

Madame Sidorov swallows hard as she brings her clipboard to her chest. She’s been running her youth dance company for over 20 years. Many of her dancers have gone on to be successful, working artists. But she’d never seen talent like Heaven Whitlock. The girl came into her studio at the age of 6, excited to show her that she already knew how to go en pointe even though children really shouldn’t and normally couldn’t do it until they were 11. Madame Sidorov had been overcome with excitement. She had a star on her hands.

The older woman also learned that Beatrice Whitlock also knew what she had. The teacher has dealt with gunner parents before, but none like the stern young woman who trailed in behind her prodigy daughter with her nose in the sky and demands on her tongue.

“Mrs. Whitlock, Clara is the lead role in the Nutcracker-”

“Bullshit, Sidorov, we both know that the prima dancer role is the Sugar Plum Fairy and the arguably most complicated dance is the Waltz of the Snowflakes, the dance you had my daughter demonstrating yesterday. So,” Beatrice’s heels click as she shifts her weight from one leg to another, hip jutting out. “Why is your best dancer playing the dumb little girl who spends most of the ballet watching everyone else dance?”

“I think my wife is frustrated because we all know our daughter is talented. So we’re having a hard time understanding why those talents aren’t being showcased.” Luca cuts, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist in an attempt to calm her.

“Heaven is only 9. We need to allow the older dancers to play the more advanced roles-”

“Then they should be better.” Beatrice interrupts, swinging her purse over her shoulder, pushing her shades up onto her head. “How about this, until your priorities are straight, we can take Heaven somewhere where things are fair and you can dust off your pointe shoes and start teaching again instead of using my child.”

“But, all of my friends go there.” Heaven whines as they speed their way down the highway for the hour drive back to their home. “I don’t want to find another studio.”

“I know, Stellina, but we want you to have every opportunity. Wouldn’t you want more chances to dance?”

Heaven is stubbornly silent in the backseat, her step father softly pats her foot, reaching back from the driver seat. Her mother turns to face her, a noncommittal look on her face. “Baby, when you came to Mommy a couple years ago, what did you say you wanted to be when you grew up?”

The younger girl bites her lip, tugging irritably at her seatbelt. “A ballerina.”

“Just a ballerina?”

Heaven huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, looking away from her mother. “The best ballerina ever.”

“The best ballerina. Ever. And Mommy and Papino have worked very hard to make that possible for you, yes? Practice everyday, paying for lessons, buying you everything you need. But you’re a big girl now. You’re going to have to learn how to work very hard too if you want to be the best, baby. We can only take you part of the way. You need to think super hard about whether this is what you want. You need to think about if you’re going to earn it.”

Beatrice’s voice is soft and kind, but her words are harsh. She turns around, not waiting for a response from her daughter, satisfied that her whines and complaints had quieted to obedient, stifled little sniffles.

Heaven stares down at her hands through wet lashes, her bottom lip wobbling as she smothers her sadness. She does want it. She wants to be the best ballerina ever. She is going to be the best ballerina ever. And she’s grateful. Papino and Mommy had given a lot. And she won’t disappoint them. So she’d go to a new dance studio. She would make new friends. And if not, that wasn’t what she was there for.

Luca Whitlock frowns as he drums his finger on the steering wheel, looking forward at the traffic ahead of them. “How about some ice cream, Stellina? Might cheer you up?”

Identical sets of brown eyes meet in the rearview mirror. The little girl in the backseat simply sinks against the leather, forcing indifference into her voice. “No thank you, Papino, I’m…not hungry.”

“And you have your, um,” Heaven scratches her head, mentally scrolling through the list of items Tashi would need at home. She was going to spend the first few weeks post-knee surgery with her parents. Heaven had stayed with her girlfriend for the days following the injury, lying to her school and telling them she had a death in the family that required her to take some time away. She just wanted to get Tashi settled before she headed back to UCLA.

The dancer had assumed that their boyfriend would emerge out of the shadows, and use his charm to weasel out of an apology, ultimately taking over Tashi’s care since he had the most free time.

Unfortunately, he continued to disappoint her. So, instead, she lingered. Slept in Tashi’s bed with her, unwrapped and rewrapped her knee. Cleaned her dorm, brought her any work she missed. The girls in the athletic dorm thought she’d moved in. But now, Tashi’s parents were here to take her home for a little while.

“I have everything, Hev, you made sure of that.”

Her heart aches. Tashi sounds so tired. So down. Heaven is so frustrated. She’s ready to move past this part. She wants Tashi to just be better. She tells herself over and over that the surgery would fix it. That once she got the treatment she needs and a little physical therapy, she’d be back to where she was, ready to take over the world with her.

“I’ll see you when we open, right? You’re still gonna come?” Heaven rocks on her feet, careful not to bump Tashi’s crutch. “You don’t have to, you’ve seen me do most of the dances and I know it might be hard to travel-”

“Babe, I’ll be there. Okay? I need to go.” Tashi lifts Heaven’s chin, giving her a halfhearted peck before turning to climb into her dad’s truck, gesturing for Heaven to stop when she goes to try helping her into the high seated vehicle. “I’ll call you. Why don’t you have Art help you get your stuff from my room? He probably wants to say goodbye.”

“T, are we gonna talk more about that-”

“I told you,” Tashi shrugs, hand on the car door handle, her pajama pants poorly covering the large brace on her knee. “M’not mad. It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. Heaven isn’t stupid. Ever since Tashi and Patrick found out that she’d done…stuff with Art, Patrick has been radio silent, and all Tashi does is encourage Heaven to spend more time with Art who she was decidedly avoiding. She’d gotten…caught up in the infirmary. The combination of the heightened emotions and Art’s soft attention and care caused another moment of weakness. She’d accidentally said something that she’d been denying to herself ever since, and thanking the good lord above that Art had apparently missed. She was determined not to tempt fate for a…fourth time?

Which is why she’d gone back to Tashi’s room and started packing her stuff and straightening up without alerting the blond tennis player who’d been haunting her dreams as of late. And it’s also why she almost pissed herself when he’d somehow materialized in the dorm room doorway, rapping his knuckles against the light wood, in a failed attempt not to startle her.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, but, um, Tashi texted me and said you might need some help getting this stuff to your car.”

He looks good. She can’t ignore that, but she can refuse to get caught up in staring at him as he leans in the doorway, muscled arms on full display as he leans in the frame, a poorly hidden pout on his face.

“I’m good.” Heaven shrugs, slinging her bookbag over her shoulder, trying to lift her purse and her other two bags at the same time, only to have all of her belongings fall out of her purse. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, let me help you.” Art bends and starts grabbing the miscellaneous items from her bag.

“I can do it-”

“It’ll be quicker-”

“Art.” She huffs, tucking her hair behind her ears and sitting criss-crossed on the floor. “I meant it, when I said that I was done…Tashi might be trying to teach me a lesson in some kind of twisted way, and I’m sorry you’re getting mixed up in it, but I’m…I can’t be around you and be with her at the same time. Clearly, I can’t handle boundaries.”

“So…so what does that mean? Not talking at all? Is that what you want?” He asks, shoulders dropping, eyes filled with hurt as he inches closer. “Heaven-”

“Sure. If that’s what it takes for it to get you to get I can’t do” she gestures between them. “This, then fine, let’s say that’s what I want.”

Art clenches his jaw, blinking quickly as he tries to think something he could say. Anything to change her mind. “Heaven, please, I’ll…we’d be friends. We can just, I can’t…please don’t.” he finishes, giving up on trying to articulate his thoughts through his panicked haze. Through all of this back and forth, chasing and running, he’d forgotten the chance that once Patrick was out of the picture, that he might get written out too.

His eyes scan her face as she shakes her head, shoving the last of her stuff back into her purse and standing. “Art, it’s not like I don’t wanna be around you. But stuff is getting too complicated. This shit is just too much. I haven’t been back to my school in days, Tashi’s leg is fucked and I don’t want to make things any harder for her, Patrick is just fucking gone and I really can’t handle anything more. So when you say we can be friends, I need you to mean it. I need you to tell me we can do that.”

Art finds himself in between a rock and a hard place. He wants to be honest. He wants to acknowledge that he can’t see himself getting over her within the foreseeable future. He wants to tell her that he’s glad she’s probably not with Patrick anymore, and as bad as he feels about Tashi’s leg, he quite frankly does not understand why it has to change anything between them.

But he’s desperate. Art is humiliated to admit it to himself but, he would do anything to keep the line of communication between him and Heaven open so if he had to appease her by saying that they would be platonic despite the fact that he quite literally gets dizzy standing next to her, fine. Like he’d told himself before, he was playing the long game, collecting the points that matter. So, offering her a tight smile, Art sticks his large hand out to her, encasing her smaller one and jumping to stand at his full height. “Friends. But, friends don’t ignore each other for days, Hev.”

Heaven bites her lower lip, choosing to ignore the blue-brown eyes that drop to her mouth before looking back up at her and shaking his hand. “Okay. Yeah.” The pair slowly pull their hands apart, Heaven shivers as she feels the calluses on his palm slide across her hand. “As my friend, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Is,” the girl rolls her eyes to the ceiling, releasing a heavy sigh. “Is she done? You saw it, and you obviously know more than me…is that something she can keep playing with her knee like that?”

He can’t bring himself to dash the hope she was clearly harboring on the behalf of Tashi but the girl’s recovery is…unlikely. Art tucks his hands in his pockets, tilting his head as he chooses his words carefully. “Tashi’s strong, and really fucking good, if anyone is going to recover from that kind of injury, it’s her.”

“So…no.” Heaven sits down on Tashi’s bed, staring forward at the wall that’s littered with pictures of some of the best tennis players in the world. A shaky breath leaves her as she stares at the professional posters, accompanied by the posters Adidas had made with Tashi on them.

“You’re a really good girlfriend.” Art whispers.

“I cheated on her with you. I’m pretty much the worst girlfriend ever.”

“No, I mean, you’re really invested in her. In the thing she loves, like you care about tennis the same way we do, f-for her.”

Heaven smiles softly to herself, grabbing Tashi’s pillow and hugging it to her body. “I fell in love with Tashi watching her play tennis. Just like everyone else does.” she jokes, poking Art’s leg with her toe. “When I’m watching her, it’s like I’m getting to witness something. It’s…corny but tennis is her calling. She goes to some other little world when she’s playing, and, even though I’m not a tennis player, she takes me with her. It’s this feeling of closeness that I can’t get anywhere else, you know?” Or at least, nowhere else I’m willing to talk about.

He does know. Art does know exactly what she’s talking about. He felt it. Once, when he and Patrick sat and watched Tashi play for the first time. It’s an all encompassing feeling. He was so caught up in watching her every move that he hadn’t looked anywhere but at Tashi. If he’d just looked three rows in front of him he’d have seen the girl in front of him now.

The second time, the feeling was more intense, more of a sensation than a mere feeling. It was when he was sitting in an empty theater, watching Heaven dance, just for him. Art had never felt the things he’d felt before. He’d never had the thoughts he thought. He’d held his breath for the entire minute and 26 seconds that she gave him. He sat on the edge of the red, fabric auditorium seat, scared to blink and get left behind. He wanted to capture the feeling and keep it forever. And he has. He’s kept it. And everytime she gives him another taste, a smile, a kiss, a laugh, a touch, he goes back to being alone in the theater, experiencing euphoria for the very first time.

If that’s the feeling Tashi gives Heaven, then he’s very jealous. And he wants it.

And that’s another new feeling the girls introduced him to. He’d never wanted something like her…or…uh them.

Jealousy. Longing. Needing.

Art knew exactly what Patrick was talking about when he said he liked seeing him fired up about something. Because, as much as he loves tennis, it didn’t make his blood boil. It didn’t make his stomach muscles clench with intensity. He didn’t feel that satisfying nervous burn. Not until…

Art needs to test a theory.

He scratches the back of his head, looking down at his sneakers before clearing his throat. “Uh, so, Hev, I’ve got a match this afternoon. And, I know things are weird right now, so you might think I’m a dick for even asking-”

“Arthur.”

“Come watch me play.” He blurts. Heaven’s eyes widen and he finds himself taking a tentative step forward as if he was trying to soothe a spooked horse. “I don’t know, I just figured…I mean, you might miss watching someone play, with Tashi taking a break and Patrick being…himself.” When Heaven continues to look unsure, Art puts himself out there again, trying to entice her the way he knows how. He moves to stand in front of where she’s seated on the bed, crouching to be just below her level. “When I win it will be for you. I’d like you to be there.” Art carefully tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, before grabbing her chin between his thumb and index finger, moving her face around playfully. “As a friend.”

As a friend. That’s exactly what Heaven repeats to herself, over and over when she carries her bags over to the tennis courts, placing one foot onto the metal bleacher and opting to sit in the seats down on the front to rows. Just so she can see better. And it’ll be easier to slip out before the match is over. Besides, she couldn’t bring herself to sit with the women’s tennis players towards the top. All she could think of when she saw them was that it should have been one of their legs cracking instead of Tashi’s and it didn’t exactly make her feel like a great person.

She slips into the seat and crosses her legs, struggling as she pushes her overnight bag under the low seat.

“Hey, let me help you.” A blonde girl crouches beside her, pushing along with Heaven and getting the back underneath.

“Oh,” Heaven offers her a bright smile. “Thanks, I have to head back to my school after this so I have all my shit with me, didn’t think I was gonna come.”

“No problem,” the girl chirps, plopping down into the seat next to Heaven. “Sara. Myles’ girlfriend, he’s playing after this first match. Whose girlfriend are you?”

Tashi’s name is on the tip of her tongue. She swears it is. But the girl is clearly talking about the players that were starting to filter in, with their red shirts that Heaven could see fitting Art perfectly from her seat. His blond curls flopping as his head moves side to side, she knows he’s looking for her. Heaven gives a soft wave to catch his attention and can’t help but match his smile when he spots her, waving back. “I’m not dating a player.”

“Well these are girlfriend seats, so don’t let anyone else hear you say that.” Sara says lightly, pulling her shades down over her eyes.

Heaven turns to look at her, tearing her eyes away from Art stretching. “What the hell are girlfriend seats?”

“They’re seats…where girlfriends sit?” The girl sits up to get a pixelated picture of her boyfriend on her razor. “You know, the players’ girls sit, so they can see them. No wonder I don’t recognize you, you’re a plant.”

“I’m Heaven, I don’t go here, I’m just watching my friend before I go back to UCLA.”

“Oh, shit,” Sara’s eyes widen in realization. “You’re Donaldson’s girl right? Myles’ cousin Kyle, trust me I know the names kill me too, but he was saying how Donaldson brought his hot girlfriend out with them the other night and was dick trying to show off for her.”

“Again, we’re friends, m’not his girl.”

“Hey, Hev!” Sara ducks her head, watching out of her peripheral as Art jogs over, racket in hand, pushing up onto the fence so he could be eye level with Heaven. “Match is about to start, kiss for good luck?” He grins, holding his racket handle out to her. He playfully pouts until she gives in, leaning forward and pressing her glossed lips to the handle, looking at Art through her lashes. The blond wets his bottom lip and pulls the racket back. “Eyes on me, okay?”

“Whatever, just remember you promised me a win.” Heaven giggles, crossing her arms as she settles back into her seat. Art beams even wider, hopping down off of the fence and jogging backwards back to where the players sit. “And spit out your gum!”

Faintly, she could hear Art’s teammates reprimanding him for ‘making the rest of them look bad’ and she smiles to herself, bringing a hand up to play with her name chain.

“Girl.” Sara snorts.

“Just friends.”

“Yeah sure.” the blonde girl shrugs, pushing her shades back down. “Don’t tell me, tell Donaldson.”

Art delivers a win, as promised. It wasn’t hard, really. One thing Patrick had gotten right was that college kids weren’t really much competition. And maybe he had some very good motivation sitting out in the crowd with her eyes locked on him. So he showed off a little, served a little harder, made the other guy run a little bit more than necessary. He could always explain that away as wanting to impress his coach and any possible reps looking to endorse him. And sure, he might’ve looked over at her for each point he wrenched out of the poor guy from Temple’s hands but…well he didn’t have an excuse for that other than it gave him a rush knowing that she is sitting pretty, legs crossed, perched with the other girlfriends, watching him, rooting for him, breathing heavy for him.

When matchpoint is declared his, Art smiles cockily, strolling up to the net and shaking hands with his opponent before making his way over to Heaven again, this time climbing completely over the fence, leaving behind his tennis bag on the opposite side of the court. This time she stands, catching him a little as he lands in the small space in front of her and the fence. “Well?” he pants, lifting his hat to adjust his hair before placing it back on his head.

“Well, what? You want me to say congratulations?” Heaven grins, sweeping some sweat that dripped from his forehead off of his cheek. “Congratulations, Arthur.” she hums.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah,” Sarah calls from her seat, smiling smugly up at the pair. “Good job, Donaldson. Why don’t you try to pass some of that mojo to Myles, huh? Getting kinda tired of coming out to these things just to watch you play.”

“I’ve got a lucky charm, that’s all.” Art nudges Heaven, wrapping an arm around her waist so she doesn’t stumble too far away from him.

“Yeah, so, lucky, or the other guy sucks and Art is good-”

“No, I think you’re my lucky charm, don’t try to ruin it-” Art laughs, taking his hat off again, his messy blond hair falling all over as he places it on Heaven’s head, holding her to him as she squirms.

“Ew, Arthur, it's sweaty!”

“It’s the fruit of my labor, Hev, that win was for you!”

Sarah scoffs, shaking her head as she watches the pair, leaning away to avoid getting hit when Art lifts Heaven, swinging her to the opposite side of him to help her get to the steps before grabbing her bags. As she sees him guide her by her waist down the bleachers, both of them cheesing as they chat as if no one else was there and she realizes that Art is leaving the courts before his fellow teammates play, Sarah commends her own instincts.

And then she makes a note to herself to start saving the returning girlfriend seat next to hers for Heaven. The other girls were sort’ve bitches, anyway.

“So, I should head back.” Heaven leans back against the driver door of her car, clasping her hands together behind her. “But, this got my mind off of things for a little, so thank you.”

“It’s what friends are for.” Art laughs, stepping in front of her, hand behind his neck.

“Pft, you’re such a dick. Aren’t you supposed to be the nice one?”

“I am nice.” he smiles, rocking on his feet, feeling his chest tighten as Heaven bites her rose petal bottom lip again. His eyes soften as he stares down at her delicate features and thinks about how right things feel when they’re together. How he hasn’t felt this good in…ever. “So nice, I’m not gonna say what I want to say. I’m just gonna say,” he takes her hand gently, toying with her fingers, pushing her thumb with his own, “goodnight.”

Heaven’s lips part, and looking up into his eyes, how kindly he looks down at her. What she can see in them almost does it. She almost got lost, just like that. But a buzz in her jacket pocket has her grabbing her phone and the message has her taking a small step backward and placing her hand on her door handle. “Goodbye, Art.”

“One two three, one two three, and Peter please keep up with Heaven, Heaven a little less hatred on your face, thank you, two three and up, I want her in the air-” Madame Fontaine claps her hands to the pace of the movements she wants from her two leads, following them as they move across the floor. Heaven holds her breath as she’s lifted into the air for two counts before she’s slid down Peter’s body, draping herself across him romantically as he kneels to accommodate her. “Yes, that is exactly it. Now kiss.”

Heaven feels herself wince, squeezing her eyes shut as she feels Peter’s lips press against hers.

“Still doesn’t look good, Madame.” Fallon calls from her seat.

“No, no it doesn’t, does it? You two, what’s the issue, tu veux m'humilier et me faire me suicider ou quoi?”

“No, Madame,” Heaven huffs, swatting Peter’s hand away from her waist. “We don’t want to humiliate you or make you kill yourself, I don’t understand why we have to do the version with the kiss, there are plenty of variations without it-”

“You understood her?” Peter squints at the girl next to him before huffing, “Fine, whatever, MacMillan intended for there to be passion between Romeo and Juliet, and you curl your lip up everytime I kiss you.”

“I don’t like doing it.” Heaven shrugs. “I’m a professional dancer, not a porn star, and I’m playing a 15 year old girl, I don’t know why any sane, adult audience would want to watch me lay on top and kiss a grown man and then kill myself to be with him-”

“We open tonight. We are doing the ballet as we rehearsed, you two will kiss and you will tolerate it. Practice if you must, pretend he’s someone else, take a shot before you do it, I don’t care.”

“Madame, we’re 19.”

“Oh please.” The older woman storms off, her assistant behind her and the two dancers are left side by side.

“So…should we practice?”

“Absolutely fucking not, thank you very much.” Heaven pushes past Peter, snatching her dance bag from the floor. “You’re gonna practice until your knees bleed for the next hour and then you’re gonna soak in the athletic building so you’re actually ready for tonight and I’m gonna go…I don’t know, pray.”

As Heaven storms away, dramatically slamming the theater door behind her, she can recognize she was in a bitchy mood. She felt like she had a lot of shit to be annoyed about and was frankly pissed to feel her world collapsing around her on the first night of her first college role in which she’s the fucking prima.

First, she once again demonstrated to herself that she has absolutely no fucking self control when it comes to Art Donaldson, a truth that she’s learned about herself that really agitates her. She discovered this as she struggled into the routine of only responding to the blond every couple of days and found herself sitting up in the privacy of her own dorm, reading and rereading every message she sent, the bright light of her phone shining brightly on her shame.

Second, she still hadn’t heard from her boyfriend (ex?), Patrick. She’d watched a couple of his matches while she was on the treadmill at the gym and as he does, he wins the first two rounds only to lose in the third. He found time to get lazy in his tennis playing but failed to pick up his goddamn phone and call either of his girlfriends.

Which leads to the third thing haunting her. Tashi is fucking irritable as shit. Apparently, surgery does not agree with her, because Tashi had been crabby for the last few days. It started with the day of Art’s match when she’d sent her perfectly timed message. 'Did he win?' It was like she was taunting her. Like Tashi knew Heaven couldn't stay away. It pisses Heaven off even more that she was right. Then Tashi had moved on to venting about how Patrick was absolutely wasting his talent, how the fact that he’s not winning pisses her off even more now that she can’t play. How she’s going pro as soon as she gets the chance because if this injury told her anything, it was that there was no time to wait. How now that she’s got time on her hands, she’s been thinking more about her plan for her life and Heaven’s.

And lastly, the real kicker, what had Heaven gritting her teeth as she did bar warmups this morning, was that fucking phone call. The one from her mother that she received at 5:00am when she was stretching. The one where her mother said she wouldn’t be able to make it to her first night of her first ballet in college in which she’s the fucking prima. And when she expressed her disappointment, Beatrice responded ‘It’s just a school ballet, I’ll come to your first professional one.’

So, yep, she was in a shitty fucking mood.

But she wouldn’t let all of that stop her debut as an adult dancer. She was going to be a pro, she was going to do it her way, even if the 5 seats she had reserved in the front row were empty.

So, she sits at the vanity backstage, putting her hair into Juliet’s first hairstyle. She listens to music that reminds her of when she was 15 to get into the right headspace as she puts blush on her cheeks. She offers Peter a soft smile when she sees him in his costume and forces herself to try to look at him the right way. Because the things that are pissing her off don’t matter right now. Right now, all there is is Juliet.

It doesn’t matter if Heaven’s smile is fake as the lights shine down on her when she first prances her way onto the stage. Juliet’s smile is real. It’s meaningless if Heaven’s tears are real when she squints and sees that her mother’s seat is indeed empty, her stepfather attempting to send her a thumbs up to distract from the woman’s absence. And so what, if Heaven can’t go to her happy place as she solos because she sees both Patrick and Tashi’s seats are empty as well. As long as she can still breezily get through her motions, as long as it looks beautiful for the crowd, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter.

And it definitely doesn’t matter, that as she came out of her fake balcony in her sleep gown to blow everyone’s minds with the most loving, fucking passionate pas de deux they’d ever seen, she accidentally caught eyes with Art in the audience, staring up at her intensely.

So she doesn’t have to feel guilty that when she kissed Peter, she envisioned him with curly blond hair and heterochromatic eyes. Or the fact that Madame Fontaine told her when she stepped off stage to change into her next costume that it was the most romantic, realistic kiss she’d ever seen.

Does Art know he's stupid? Absolutely. He's never dared call himself intelligent. He didn't need the little voice that sounds like Patrick calling him pussywhipped. He knows. But, he still found himself on the highway, traveling at a breakneck speed, eyeing the bouquet of flowers that he has placed in the seat.

He'd known Heaven was serious about this whole friend thing. She's so good, and kind. And she cares so much about Tashi and Patrick. But Art knows he can treat her better. He's sure of it. Despite what he knows to be true, Art refuses to pressure her...anymore. He'd just rely on the fact that if they were supposed to be together like he believed they should be, they would be. Eventually. Soon. Hopefully.

So he came fully ready to play the dutiful friend. He was gonna stand politely by as Heaven leapt into Patrick's arms after the show. Art was gonna smile politely as she and Tashi shared kisses and exchanged giggles as they talked about inside jokes that they only understood. But then he got there. He'd been directed to the front where the two premier dancers families were arranged to sit and found three empty seats separating him from a man with peppered hair and smart looking glasses who had his own bouquet of flowers across his lap and a Chanel gift bag next to his feet. As he inches into his seat the man looks at him with a smile.

"You must be Patrick. I'm Heaven's stepfather, Luca Whitlock, I'm sorry I missed you at her birthday." The older man holds his hand out to Art with a kind smile. "Nice to meet you."

Art offers him his own awkward grin, accepting the tight squeeze of the man's hand. "Uh, no, I'm Heaven's friend, Art. It's really nice to meet you Mr. Whitlock."

"You as well." The man lifts his wrist to check his watch. "Show is meant to start in a few minutes, hopefully he will be here shortly. Stellina won't like for her boyfriend to be late.

Art shifts uncomfortably again, checking his phone. Patrick had reached out to him a couple days after Tashi's injuries. Mostly to make insults thinly veiled as jokes, clearly still pissed that he yelled at him. Art responded with short, one worded messages.

It's the least they'd ever spoken since they'd met.

The guilt he feels for his part in this fight they were having is very real. But it was currently heavily outweighed by his annoyance at the fact that his friend was seemingly punishing Heaven by not showing up for her big night. He knew Patrick didn't deserve her, and he was only proving his point.

"Is Tashi with Mrs. Whitlock or..."

"Oh, my, my wife couldn't make it. And Tashi is still...healing. Her mother called right before I was supposed to pick her up."

Oh. "Oh."

As much as he's glad he could be here for Heaven, he knows that Tashi and her mother being there would mean more. His heart aches for her as he settles back into his seat and the lights dim. The pain he feels for her only intensifies when he sees her step out onto the stage. She's beautiful. The perfect Juliet. If anyone would make a man fall in love within a few glances, ready to die at the thought of not being with her, Heaven would be it.

Her eyes are sad as she eyes the empty seats, using them as a tragic point of focus as she completes her expert turns. Behind him he could hear people whispering about how gorgeous the girl playing Juliet was, how talented she is. All Art can think is that they have no idea. They don't know how she's managing to be so elegant, so beautiful, so perfect, even as she's in the type of pain she's in.

Art would do anything to bring the light back into her eyes so they would shine the way the rest of her was.

He loves her.

He knows it. He feels it as her eyes finally make their way to his seat and her smile is a little more real. A little bit of light slips back into her eyes. She dances even more beautifully, more genuinely than before. And his mind is filled with the same thought.

Yes baby, that's right. Eyes on me. I'll make it better. I'll make you happy.

And he means it. Friends or not. Lovers or not.

It's on Heaven's first night of her first ballet in college where she's the fucking prima ballerina that Art makes a vow to himself.

He was gonna dedicate himself to Heaven Whitlock's happiness. No matter what that meant.

3 Years Later (California)(Age: 22):

Tashi shakes her head to herself as she watches Art pace in the kitchen. She brings her coffee to her lips, blowing at the smoke slowly as she observes him from the couch, taking a small sip before setting the mug loudly on the glass coffee table. She rolls her eyes when he doesn’t stop his steadily paced steps across the floor. “You good?”

The blond finally pauses to look at her, jaw clenching and unclenching before he opens his mouth to speak. “This is just different, you know?”

“How? It’s still tennis.”

“It’s pros, Tashi, I’m just nervous.” Art says, running his hand through his blond curls. “These guys are good.”

“You’re fucking good.” She asserts, crossing her arms. “Look, I can’t make you believe in yourself. If you can’t do this, please, let me know now, because I need to know if you’re not going to make this happen. We have a deal.”

Art sighs, planting his hands down on the counter, staring down at the scattered marble with a frown as he tries to get out of his head. Suddenly, he feels a hand slide across his back and an envelope lands on the counter between his hands, into his line of sight.

“Something for you to consider while you decide if you’re gonna fuckin’ play like I know you can.”

With that, Tashi storms out, heels clicking on the hotel room floor and the door beeping as it slams shut behind her. Art stares down at the envelope, reading and rereading the name of the sender.His heart both clenches and races as he thinks about what the 4 little words on the small, insignificant piece of paper could mean for him. How those 4 words and whatever they’re hiding behind them will ruin his life.

The Paris Opera Ballet

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penvisions · 19 hours

Text

one fish, two fish {frankie morales x reader}

Pairing: Native! Frankie Morales x Transplant! Reader

Summary: Setting up a new chapter of your life should be easy, but there's someone that keeps popping up and making it much harder than it needs to be...

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: mentions of past recovery, narcotics anonymous, mentions of past drug use, recreational drug use, consumption of alcohol, miscommunication up the wazoo, i think that's it for this one!

A/N: this is for the lovely @janaispunk and her 1500 kisses challenge / celebration! the kiss assigned to me was: goodnight kiss! wanted to write something a bit different and this helped to get some stuff tinkering again

ao3 link || frankie masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

You were new to the area, the city and the meeting. The mediocre coffee and the drab, stagnant air of the rented out room the only thing linking this new chapter of your life to the old one. Anonymous meetings always seemed to be held in the same types of places, outside in large parks too crowded and loud with other people or playgrounds off in the distance or errant rooms of old church buildings where they typically held their holiday social gatherings. The faces were always the same with washed out expressions, dull eyes, shaking hands all clamoring for the too bright amber liquid that barely passes for coffee and too sugary sweets for the snacks alongside it.

But there was something new about this scene you were all to familiar with, no matter the city you were in or the state of your recovery. A man was walking in through the doors, dressed in a simple pair of dark wash jeans and a heathered grey t-shirt. Atop his head was a worn and well loved hat, a patch over the front of it depicting some foreign to you oil company. But it wasn’t the nondescript clothes or hat that caught your attention, lord knows it wasn’t, it was the man who adorned them. He looked so different from the others in the room even as he shared greeting handshakes and close-lipped smiles with everyone milling about before he was standing in front of you.

He tilts his head to the side as confusion swirls in the brown depths of his wide eyes, so much more the embodiment of coffee more that the liquid in your little styrofoam cup. His full lips are pursing slightly as he begins to speak and there’s a large hand held out in front of him. Sound and awareness slam back into you and you realize he was repeating a greeting to you. His hand is lowering, going to mirror his other on his hip and you feel like you’re getting scolded as he stands tall over you.

“Oh, oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Yes, hi, I’m-“

“New, haven’t seen you before. Most of the people here have been comin’ to this meeting for a long while. Sure you’re in the right place?” His eyes are tracing over the features of your face, heat pooling underneath the scrutiny as you realize the words he’s speaking to you. And it sounds a lot like you aren’t welcome. You swallow the lump quickly forming in your throat and try to tamp down the fluster of embarrassment at having chosen the one meeting that worked out for your schedule only for it to be wrong for everyone else.

“I-I can- go? If it’s not…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to impose, there’s just…this was the only one in the area and I don’t have a sponsor helping me figure out the lay of the land.” You’re turning from him, placing the little cup beside the coffee maker and wiping your hands on the sides of your jeans, palms sweaty and nerves alight. You feel foolish, for thinking that you could just pick a meeting even if the list had been published on an online forum. Your legs are twitching as you quickly stride across the room and out into the tepid evening air.

You barely muster up the courage to look over your shoulder as you cross the small path set into lush grass, the propped open doors to the room are blocked by the form of the man that had caught your attention. His figure is backlit by the fluorescents on inside, the evening dark as the sun had set over an hour ago. You can’t see his face for the silhouette his broad body is creating, though you don’t imagine it’s anything kind as he seems to be ensuring your departure with a survey of area. Your heart hammers in your chest at the sickening feeling of being unwelcome, of having been approached and explicitly asked if you were in the right place. And fuck if you weren’t sure.

The asphalt is still hot from the day as you cross over it to your car, the happy beeps of it unlocking doing nothing to improve the mood. The feeling of being completely out of your element consume you as you pilot your car through the half-full lot and onto one of the only roads you were familiar with in the city that is now your home.

A few days later and an hours long phone call with your old sponsor, you’re feeling a little better about the whole thing. An invitation to join your coworkers out for a drink helping to ease the transition of a new work place, one of paperwork to use the degree you had devoted yourself to finished through your recovery. Pieces of an easy life fell into place, new car, a new apartment, a trip to the shelter to look for a furry friend to keep you company. It was all so precious and new, equal parts exciting and daunting as you tried to create something for yourself that you never had before.

The chase of addiction long past, nothing more than an errant nightmare every so often or the twitch of a muscle as you recalled the feeling of endorphins and chemicals, now only a lingering phantom.

You decided to try and dress up a little, your favorite pair of jeans that fit just like a warm hug, a nice tank top lined with lace at the collar and hem, a pair of chunky heeled boots to make you appear a little taller. All of it paired with the scent of your summer perfume and gold jewelry to bring the whole look together and make you feel more like yourself than you had in years.

All of it came undone the second you settled your elbows on the bar top to wave down a worker for a beer when he sidled up beside you. Crackling tension douses the jovial, upbeat scene and you feel your entire body tense up and your thoughts scramble at the scent that seems to cling to his skin. It’s a combination of faint motor oil and something woodsy. It’s not a bad one, and the errant thought of catching it lingering on your sheets pulls your mouth down into an unfriendly frown as you turn to look at him as he clears his throat to speak in that deep, full voice.

“I wasn’t sure if it was really you, but-“

“You can’t kick me out of here too, this is a public space.” You find yourself saying roughly, annoyance and a little more boldness behind the words than you would normally display so plainly. Born of embarrassment and the feeling of shame, for having accidently stumbled into a space that was meant to be inviting and accepting only to be turned away by the handsome man who had quite literally materialized beside you now like he had done so many nights ago. You look straight ahead, eyes focused on the backlit bottles on the shelves of the bar back.

“Hey, no, that’s not-“

“I won’t bother you, just…please leave me alone.”

“I wanted to apologize for the other night.” His apology steeped in genuine condolence catches you off guard and you miss the spare second to get the bartenders attention as you turn to look at him again. There’s a nervous air about him now, nothing like the way he had approached you during that first meeting. “I didn’t mean- I wasn’t trying to run you off.”

“Sure seemed like it, ‘sure you’re in the right place’?” You repeat his words back to him, an imitation of his deep voice so spot on it catches him off guard and pulls a barking laugh from someone on the other side of him. The man’s brows fly up underneath the curls that peek out from underneath his cap, his plush lips parted slightly at the hint of something that would normally be playful but is now being weaponized and turned on him with intent.

“Oy, Fish, she’s got that down perfect! Fuck, that’s hilarious.” Your eyes look over his shoulder to the person, he’s just as handsome but in a way that makes you wary of his intentions and the truth of his words should he have been the one to sidle up to you. Memories of being teasingly asked out by your old coworkers ring in your ears. “What’s your name, hermosa?”

“You brought a friend with you to- what exactly? Ask if I’m in the right place again? Well, I am. Apology acknowledged but not accepted, please leave me alone.” You lean forward a bit more, putting weight on one of your hands to wave the other for the attention of a much needed drink, even more so now. You’re very aware of both men’s attention on you as you manage to get something on draft, ordering whatever local amber they offered and turn away from the crowded bar to go back to your table.

Only, it’s empty when your eyes zone in on it. The vinyl seats of the booth are unoccupied for only a moment until another group of people swoop in and claim it for themselves. Sighing, you down the beer with quick gulps as you make your way to the door, the crisp liquid soothes the nerves of confrontation and being ditched only minutely. The condensation beaded up on the glass making your hands damp as you pop it atop a high top table with a couple obviously on their first date before you’re pushing through the door into the humid night.

You’re barely a few paces down the street when the door opens again and he’s walking through it. A frazzled look about him as he turns his head this way and that in search of something. He’s worrying that plush bottom lip and you hate how your eyes trace the movement.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, please leave me alone.” You can’t help the rumble of your exasperation as his eyes land on you and he pivots toward you.

“Look, I didn’t mean for- you’re reading into this all wrong- I-“ He’s stumbling over his words as he closes the distance, catching up with your quick gait further down the street.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m allowed to be wherever I want to go. I will not shirk away from what you think is yours just because you don’t want me around. I haven’t done anything to you and I don’t even know who you are!”

A few passersby glance your way and you see a deep pink tinge the tops of his cheeks as his shoulders bunch up in obvious embarrassment. You feel it too as eyes linger and murmured words are shared. You feel the weight of your phone in your back pocket and pull it out as you turn to face him head on. The screen illuminates the way frustration had given way to slight panic as you type in your address for an uber. Tears splatter on the screen that displays too expensive drivers, and you try to get your thoughts together with a long blink. More tears cascade hot down your cheeks and you feel so foolish and overwhelmed.

“I-I didn’t mean to frighten you, please, I’m just trying to-“ He’s stopped a few feet in front of you, gauging the strike of fear that courses through you harshly.

“I don’t know why I thought this would work out.” You sob, body humming with anxiety you thought was starting to abate day by day. “I thought, I-“ Your phone slips from your trembling hands and you scramble to catch it just as he moves to do the same. It evades your attempts and smacks into the concrete of the ground, the crunch of glass telling you it’s ruined.

Everything freezes when you look up from where he’s crouched down to pick up the broken phone, his eyes wide and beseeching as he holds it out for you to take. But you don’t, body tense and rooted in place. His eyes are such a deep brown and your heart flutters in your chest in a twist of emotion. He looks so panicked, worry and concern wafting from him. It’s a puppy-eyed look if you’ve ever seen one and you feel bad for having reacted so emotionally.

“Look, I’m just- I’m new here and it was supposed to be a good night. But my coworkers ditched me and I don’t know how to get home now.”

“I could-“ His teeth clack with the force he shuts his mouth around what you were sure was to be an offer of a ride. He seems to realize that’s not the best and rubs a hand over the back of his neck in a nervous motion. “I can get you an uber or I can call a cab, if-if that’s okay with you? If you’re comfortable with that. It’s the least I can do.”

When you don’t respond, he’s reaching for his own phone in a front pocket. He fiddles with it for a few moments before he heaves a deep sigh.

“Everyone has a wait time of about half an hour, is that- are you okay with that?”

“I don’t…I…”

“Hey, it’s okay. Look…if…”He’s slipping his phone back into his pocket and holds yours out to you again. A feeling of something akin to relief floods you as the tension begins to ease. He’s trying so hard to turn the interaction around and you can’t help but think it’s endearing, if still a little mortifying at how badly it had spiraled out of control. “There’s a diner down the street, on the corner. Why don’t we grab a coffee or something with a little sugar to even out the adrenaline and just…we can talk a little and then I’ll take you home. No ulterior motive, I swear to you. I just…I can’t leave you out here, I’d feel so bad if I left you out here alone. Think about you all night…”

“O-okay.” You hear yourself agree, exhaustion slamming into you so reminiscent of a waning high that you find your body aching and sore. Coffee sounded good, a little pick me up….

“Yeah?” His eyes are glancing between both of yours, trying to read if it was really okay or if you were just trying to shrink yourself in hopes of appeasing him out of fear. When he doesn’t seem to see any, he’s taking a step closer. You don’t back away or flinch, your mind too weighed down but obviously not on edge around him any longer. Instincts telling you he’s better than the two interactions with him belay. That he’s truly a person trying to do good and smooth over the miscommunication.

“Yes.”

You find yourself in a booth across from him a few moments later, steaming mugs of fresh coffee in front of you both while you wait for the food you had ordered. You’ve calmed down enough to feel nervous for an entirely different reason. He’s…he’s handsome, but that was what had caught your attention in the first place. Broad, tall body that moves with an easy confidence. The way he carried himself telling you of his past more than words. You could recognize someone who served, and it lightens the burden of him being a complete stranger even more so.

He’s wearing a pair of thick rimmed glasses now, that he had pulled from a back pocket to read the menu and you felt your stomach flutter at the sight.

“So..um, why did your friend call you Fish?” You try to break the awkward tension that feels a little too much like the first date you had interrupted earlier on your way out of the bar. The thought sticks in your brain like a prickly burr, unyielding as you try to shake it away. There was no way…that this would turn out to be anything than a weird story to tell people at the next meeting you managed to find.

He’s glancing up from where he stirs in a hefty pour of sugar into his black coffee, thick fingers wrapped around the mug. He’s searching your face as you do the same, and you worry for a moment if your make up had smudged from the bout of tears that had taken over you. You see faded scars over his knuckles, the backs of his hands, small pieces of his past on display for your roving eyes.

“It’s a nickname, well…it was my call sign.” He seems cautious, to admit it across the formica table. Unsure if it would unsettle you or ease your worries about him.

“Mine was Angelfish.” You respond without thinking, sharing something about yourself that you don’t tell people anymore. It doesn’t seem to matter once they see the sobriety keychain attached to your keys or the label on your work file you’re required to provide.

“You served?” His brow furrows as he looks you over once again, seeing the traces of your time served in the muscles of your arms, the straight set of your posture, the way your eyes tracked the movements of everyone else in the diner.

“Navy, SEAL explosives expert.”

“Army, Delta Force pilot. Real name’s Frankie- Fransisco. Fransisco Morales.”

You give him your name in return, out of respect, out of wanting to. He wasn’t at all the person you thought him to be.

“Do…what do you prefer I call you?” He’s rubbing his free hand over the bottom of his lip, the hush of his facial hair drawing your eyes to the movement. He’s got a bare patch on each side along his jaw and the urge to reach out and run your fingers over it startles you.

“Angel is fine, but what makes you think you’ll be needing it?” You quirk a brow at his forwardness, finding it endearing even if you felt the respect of his question. The feeling of wanting to refer to you as a civilian you both seem to be now or a reference of your shared past. He’s…he’s still new to you, but you feel your personality beginning to shine through as you sit across from him with the air cleared.

“Because, well, fuck, I-“ His eyes fall down to stare into his mug, lips pursed. But your hand is reaching out from around your own mug to rest over his on the table. The spark of contact pulling his gaze back up quickly to find a small teasing smile on your lips. You wonder if he felt it too, as your heart rate spikes when he doesn’t shove it away, instead turning to lay it palm up on the table to cradle yours.

“I’m really sorry for the way I reacted, but in my defense, you did seem rather upset with me both times you approached me.” Eyes trained on your hands, the sight of it calming…it had been so long since anyone had wanted to hold your hand, and you can’t deny that it felt good. He was warm, not just from the heat of the mug.

“I really didn’t mean for my question to run you off at that meeting. It was just…a new face makes some people nervous since it’s a pretty close group. I’m sorry if it came across that way.” He’s squeezing your hand still in his, soothing you further, trying to take what he could from you to make this a little less awkward.

“It was the one closest to me.”

The waitress suddenly appears with your meals and you’re reluctantly pulling your hand from his to reach for the silverware. He’s watching you with a soft expression as you cut up the pancakes into small pieces and stirring in the pat of butter before you reach for the syrup, his own food untouched in front of him. Before you even take a bite of yours, a fork is piercing a steaming piece of potato covered in eggs, hollandaise and bacon. And how could you possibly know that he was thinking he would give you anything to see your eyes light up as you cover your mouth as you chew the bite and nod your head to tell him that it was good?

The drive to your house is spent in comfortable silence, your attempt at directions failing. Frankie had just handed over his phone for you to type in the address for him to bring up the directions. You doubted he needed them, having learned that he grew up here and returned after his service. It was probably more for your peace of mind, though you no longer thought he was who you had at first. He was kind, a little shy, focused as he made sure you ate at least half of your food over tidbits of different lives were shared. You feel a little remorse that the evening was coming to an end, but it was probably for the best. It had been a long day of too many emotions.

His truck quiets as he pulls to the curb outside the house you had just moved into. It’s in a suburb that he tells you he lives in as well, a few streets away. He’s reaching for the glove compartment to retrieve a small pad of paper and a pen, scribbling his name and number on it. All broad shoulders and big hands in the cab of the truck.

“Don’t,” He’s pulling it back from where you go to reach for it when he holds it out to you. His lips quirk up at the corners, a dimple appearing in his right cheek as his eyes glitter in the streetlamps. “Don’t throw this away.”

“I won’t,” You can’t help the roll of your eyes and your own smile as you reach for it again. You get another whiff of his faded cologne as you so do and your cheeks warm as you realize it would linger on your skin from being in his truck. You hold it tight to your chest, as if he were making to take it back. But you’re turning to him with a reach of your hand for his and he meets you halfway. You’re pumping his clasped hand up once before releasing it with a huff of laughter.

His teeth glint as he smiles so wide it spurs butterflies in your stomach.

“I’ll put it in my phone as soon as I get it repaired or get a replacement. It’ll have a different area code than here, though, so don’t,” You’re wagging a finger at him. “Don’t ignore it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” He breathes out, voice quiet as you lock eyes with him.

“Okay.” You’re reaching for the door handle with a held breath, unable to look at him without feeling the urge to press your lips to his cheek in parting. As your feet touch the still warm concrete of the sidewalk, he’s out of the truck and rounding the front of it to hold the door open for you as you gather your purse from the footwell.

“Is this the part where you reveal your true intentions and kidnap me?” You’re only slightly joking as he crowds you against the now closed door, one hand on the closed window and the other reaching for to tuck your loose hair behind an ear. He’s so close it makes you a little dizzy, his eyes trained only on you.

“No,” His voice is so low, so close. It rumbles through your chest as he dips his head, the bill of his cap bumping the top of your head. The thickness of the air palpable beyond the humidity of the season, spurring your heart into quick beats. “This is the part where I kiss you goodnight.”

“Oh.” You barely manage to breathe out before he’s pressing his soft lips to the apple of your cheek.

“Goodnight, Angel.” He’s pulling away with the graze of a knuckle to your other cheek. Hands stuffed into his pockets, he watches as you stutter out your own ‘goodnight’ and walk down the path set into the yard. He’s only back in the truck once he sees you step onto the covered porch, gears shifting as your keys are dug out from your bag. He’s driving off with a piece of your heart as you open the front door and turn around to watch him make a right at the corner.

You smile to yourself, feeling the lingering touch of his lips to your cheek with tingling fingers as you let yourself into the house. You already know it wasn’t the last time you’d be seeing him.

taglist: @sawymredfox @tuquoquebrute @littlemisspascal @jessthebaker @burntheedges @tightjeansjavi @thetriumphantpanda

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yuus-sentient-teddy · 1 day

Text

While stuff is going down on Sage's Island, what's happening with some of the families of the NRC students?

S.T.Y.X. probably had to be the ones to tell the families the situation. Even though they explain it as lightly as possible so that there's no major panic, that won't stop the families from worrying.

I thought about Deuce's mom after Malleus casted the spell, when Deuce hasn't called her to talk about his day. Her intuition is telling her that something is amiss, but she tries to brush it off even though Deuce has never missed a call.

She sends a good morning text the following day.

She tries calling him an hour later when there's no response. What if he got sick and that's why he hasn't said anything?

But the call immediately goes to voicemail.

Okay, don't panic. She's sure her son must have forgotten to charge his phone (unlikely, a part of her says) or maybe he's deep asleep from being sick.

Dila debates on whether to call the school. She doesn't want to be overprotective or overbearing. . . and yet her mother's intuition is still screaming at her that something isn't right.

It wouldn't hurt to just be sure, right?

Dila's heart sinks when the call to the school immediately goes to voicemail.

The next chance she gets, Dila drives to the Trappola residence. She starts to feel a little ridiculous when Mrs. Trappola answers the door without a single bit of worry. What if it's nothing? But she still asks if Mrs. Trappola has heard from her son.

Mrs. Trappola shakes her head. "No, but he usually talks with his brother a lot. What's up?"

Dila explains how her son hasn't called or texted her and that the call to the school was unsuccessful. "Hmmm... it could be your phone. Let me try calling."

But the same thing happens--the school doesn't pick up. Dila notices something she missed in the beginning: Mrs. Trappola's stiffness beneath a casual mask. Does Mrs. Trappola also feel like something is wrong?

"Hang on, let me try calling his brother."

He's casual when he picks up and tells his mom that Ace hadn't called him last night. But there is a bit of trepidation when he asks, "Is something going on?"

"No, just checking. I'll call you later." Mrs. Trappola lets out a breath and meets Dila's eyes. Both mothers recognize the look in the other's eyes.

"Do you know Clover Bakery?" Dila asks. "Deuce told me that the son of the family who runs it is in the same dorm as him and Ace."

Mrs. Trappola nods. "Ace mentioned him a few times. Trey."

"I'm going to go over there. Want to come with?"

"Give me a second to get my stuff."

Two worried mothers become three, and they're all sitting around a table in the back of the bakery while a father is with the employees at the front. At this point, it's clear that something has happened to their sons and the school.

The three discuss what to do next. Should they try calling the school again? Reach out to the police station? To another family? How about contacting that Diamond kid's family?

But why stop at this part of the world?

Perhaps a while after the sleeping spell is cast, a little heir is wandering the streets pouting because no one is telling him what is going on.

Something has happened to his uncle, that he knows, but he doesn't know just exactly what.

This little heir may bump into an older woman, a grandmother, who asks why he's wandering around on his own so late in the day. He almost cries in frustration while telling her about the adults not telling him anything about his uncle. He lets slip that his uncle goes to Night Raven College.

That makes the grandmother pause, the uneasy feeling inside of her making itself known once again.

She tells the child that his family might be worried about him and eventually persuades him that going home would be a good idea. She escorts him out of the slums, listening to him talk about his uncle, until some guards find the two.

Before the guards escort the little prince back home, the grandmother asks about Night Raven College. Her grandson is a student there and in the same dorm as Leona Kingscholar. The guards reply with an apology and that they have not heard of an incident at the school.

But she stops them. Surely, they must have heard of something. She doesn't miss the fleeting look in one of the guards' eyes--perhaps that woman has a child who goes there too?

That guard tells her partner to go on ahead, and once the prince and his guard are far enough, she tells the grandmother that all communication to the school and Leona--even to anywhere on the island--have been unsuccessful. Other ways of communicating are being sought, but the guard is bracing for the worse.

She tells the grandmother that if she hears anything, she'll come find her.

The parents of four families congregate in Clover Bakery before it opens. It's clear that no one has gotten much sleep. Cups of coffee are handed out as they all take a seat in the bakery's main area.

"Any word?"

"No."

"Actually," Mrs. Trappola says, "my eldest told me that his friend on the Land of Dawning was given an evacuation order alongside every single citizen there."

". . . The entire land?" Mrs. Clover says faintly, disbelieved.

"The entire land." The weight of the words is heavy and they all silently contemplate what the evacuation could mean.

"Doesn't the heir of Briar Valley also go to the school?" Mrs. Diamond asks. "It's possible he might be keeping everyone safe. Plus--" she fixes a bright smile on her face--"our boys have survived two Overblots. What's one more?"

"There's also a magicless student who goes to the school," Mrs. Trappola says. "I heard from Ace that they've gone through multiple Overblots and survived without so much a scratch. If they can stay standing after that kind of disaster, then this should be nothing for them."

". . . I'm sorry, did you say multiple?"

The bell above the door chimes. In steps none other than Mrs. Rosehearts and a man who seems smaller in her presence. It's not missed the way the woman stands stiffly, and in the corner of Dila's eye, she sees Mr. and Mrs. Clover sitting up straighter.

"Is there anything we can help you with?" Mrs. Clover asks. Dila hears a little tremble in her voice as she tries to sound neutral. She meets Mrs. Diamond's eyes across the way and the two share the same thought: there's a strained history between the Rosehearts and Clovers.

That is when Dila remembers a phone call with Deuce early in the school year--Riddle and Trey's past and Riddle's Overblot.

Mrs. Rosehearts takes a deep breath and lets it out in a half-huff. It seems like she's fighting with her pride. "Yes. Have you heard from the school or your sons?"

"No. None of us have."

Mr. Clover gestures to the chairs. "Have a seat."

The man accompanying Mrs. Rosehearts, Mr. Rosehearts, accepts the invitation. However, halfway sitting down, he notices his wife is still standing. "I'm fine. This shouldn't take long," she says.

He blinks, then fully sits. "So, uh, what have we missed?" he asks.

After the two are filled in, Mr. Rosehearts nods sadly while Mrs. Rosehearts's scowl deepens. "So there's nothing." She almost spits out the last word.

"What about you? Have you tried anything?" Mrs. Diamond asks calmly, like the two were acquaintances.

"Of course I have! But nothing worked!" Mrs. Rosehearts shuts her eyes, tightens her grip on her handbag, and tries to calm down from the outburst.

"We both tried calling people we knew on the island, but our calls kept bouncing," Mr. Rosehearts supplies. "I heard about the Land of Dawning evacuation from a friend of mine. They also said that S.T.Y.X. was the one issuing it."

"S.T.Y.X?!" the room explodes.

"They're only involved if there's an Overblot. So does that mean. . . ?" Mr. Clover doesn't dare finish the sentence.

"But what kind of Overblot causes an entire island to be shut down and another island to evacuate?" Dila asks.

"One that can be caused by a powerful mage," Mrs. Trappola softly says.

The room is once again blanketed by horrified and tense silence. Thoughts return to what Mrs. Diamond said earlier. Doesn't the heir of Briar Valley also go to the school?

Mrs. Rosehearts suddenly spins around and marches to the door.

"Where are you going?" her husband asks.

"To the emissary. I will not sit idly and ponder useless things with useless outcomes while my son is in potential danger."

She's halfway through the door when her and everyone's phones go off simultaneously, creating a cacophony of text notification sounds. They're whipped out and Dila holds her breath as she opens the text application.

. . .

Mr. Clover takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. Mr. Diamond runs a hand through his hair. And Mr. Trappola and Mr. Rosehearts can't stop staring at the message on his phone.

It felt good finally having a confirmation that something was amiss and knowing that a major organization was handling it. At the same, however, it left longing for more information.

"What about my son?!" Mrs. Rosehearts's demand to know her son's well-being felt like a reflection of what the other parents were feeling inside. Anger, worry, helplessness.

Mrs. Clover sits back in her chair with a distant, worried gaze. Mrs. Diamond leans on her husband's shoulder. Mrs. Trappola rubs her face. Mrs. Rosehearts slams the door as she leaves the bakery.

After a few attempts, Dila finally opens the internet application. It brings her to a news article from a while ago, written by a Sage's Island reporter, and at the very top is a picture of her son performing in the Star Sending Ceremony. She can't stop staring at it. What if she never sees him again?

"Deuce. . ."

Meanwhile, in Sunset Savannah, a little prince runs down a street. His head turns wildly, searching for a certain face. Anyone outside pause to stare at him, no doubt curious as to why the heir is here in this neighborhood of all places. He finally spots her leaving a run-down home and sprints the rest of the way.

The grandmother hears him before she sees him. He slows to a stop before her and is panting as he says, "I know what's happening! The island is shut down and some sticks are fixing it!"

"'Some sticks'?" she repeats, puzzled.

He nods feverishly. "Yeah! That's what I heard."

She assumes it's magic-related. "What about the island? Did you hear why it is shut down?"

He goes to answer, but pauses. "Um... I didn't," he says bashfully.

She's disappointed, but doesn't let that show. "That's all right. Thank you for telling me about what you heard."

"Prince Cheka!" Marching down the street is the guard from yesterday. The little prince's ears press down. "Please, notify any of us when you plan to leave the palace," she says, though it sounds more like scolding.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to let grandmother know about the school."

The guard sighs. "Your parents have already been told and they expect you back soon. I will stand guard beside the house. Let me know when you are ready to return."

"Can you tell grandmother what you know?" Cheka asks. "I saw you talking to her yesterday."

The guard, beneath the stoic exterior, had been impatient to tell the grandmother. "Very well."

She relays the message she, a couple of the other guards, and the queen received. An incident on Sage's Island. . . All travel to Sage's Island and the Land of Dawn are prohibited. . . S.T.Y.X. is currently handling the situation and will notify when the situation has been resolved.

"I am sorry I can't give you more information," the guard says.

Grandma Bucchi shakes her head. "You've given me enough."

She makes her way to a cracked chair and tries not to fall back on it as she sits. "Are you okay?" Cheka asks, approaching as the guard readies herself to help.

"I'm all right," she half lies. She prays to the stars of the coming night that nothing is happening to Ruggie. She already lost her daughter-in-law and son; she cannot lose her grandson.

"He'll figure out a way to survive. He's resourceful," she says, partly as a reminder to herself.

"My uncle might be helping him. They might be helping each other, like the King of Beasts and the hyenas!" Cheka says, brightening.

Grandma Bucchi knows the story well--everyone in Sunset Savannah does. It came to mind when Ruggie told her about his working relationship with Leona, and the thought wasn't lost on Ruggie either.

Perhaps they are helping each other through the danger that has taken hold of the island. "It is possible. My grandson is in the same dorm as your uncle."

A/N: I have been dying to share this with ya'll for a couple of weeks. I also kind of oneshot this XD

#dila spade #mama spades #ace trappola's mom #ace trappola's dad #trey clover's mom #trey clover's dad #riddle rosehearts's mom #riddle roseheart's dad #mama rosehearts #cheka kingscholar #grandma bucchi #anippola #deuce spade's mom #cater diamond's mom #cater diamond's dad #btw the guard who talks with Grandma Bucchi is no one in particular--she just suddenly appeared and I went YES #twst angst #twisted wonderland

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 hours

Note

WIBTA if I told a very poor person to stop asking me for money?

(🧍‍♂️💸 for ez finding, names are fake for obv reasons)

I (21, any prns) met Pink (21, she/they) in a fandom-specific RP server about a year ago. Everyone was (and still is) very nice, including Pink, the server owner. Pink and her family are very poor, barely even making rent, and she often plugged her donation posts in the server announcements channel (this happened a lot. at one point there was even a donations channel just for her). I didn't really mind because desperate times call for desperate measures, ya gotta do what ya gotta do, y'know?

About nine months ago (mid september) I decided to pay something for her (it was either the remains of her rent or her meds, I forgot which). I did it because I felt like it, and it wasn't much. I figured if I could make someone's life a little easier, I might as well. Then about a month later (last week of October) she DM'd me, also about meds. She seemed apologetic and honestly kinda desperate. I figured if she was going this far it was probably by necessity, so I sent money again. She asked about paying me back, but I declined the offer since when I give people money I pretty much expect it to be Gone lol. She asked me again for money twice within that week for some Emergency Essentials. I obliged the first time but gently refused the second. I work retail, I'm not made of money...

She didn't contact me again about this until early December, due to an overdraft. I declined because of a vet appointment and also Xmas shopping. Plus, I was in kind of a tight spot myself at the time (from around Nov-March I had to be really careful with my spending). She asked again in mid-December for rent money, to which I obliged. It was the last time I gave her anything. She then had *another* rent emergency at the very end of December, which I refused because I Have Bills. I should mention that some of these emergencies were not posted publicly (i.e. in the server) - she was asking me, personally, for help. Nobody else, at least as far as I know. Maybe she DMs everyone who sends money her way. I have no way of knowing.

In mid-January she asked me again for rent money, to which I politely declined due to my own financial struggles, and stated that I probably wouldn't be in a better position to donate until April. She seemed to understand and wished me well.

...until recently. She's made a habit of asking me for money again. Not as frequently as before (about once every 2-3 months. she did this in late May and again around march), but it does happen. I thought about telling her off the first time, but I wanted to compose myself lest I say something really mean, but by the time I felt like responding, she deleted it. Maybe she realized it was embarrassing? I don't know. This also happened with the May message. I was super inactive in the server by then due to being busy with Life Stuff. I've wanted to chat in it again lately because everyone else (including Pink, at least in overall demeanor) but it's kind of awkward when I have the literal owner DMing me for cash every few months.

At this point, I'm at the end of my rope. I want her to stop. It makes me seriously uncomfortable how she only ever contacts me to ask for money. Not even my closest friends of almost a decade - who also have financial struggles of their own - would ask me personally for money, and Pink is barely more than a friendly acquaintance. But at the same time I know she's only doing any of that *because* her situation is so desperate. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and it feels rather two-faced to turn my back on her now.

WIBTA?

#aita #am i the asshole

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sooguru · 16 hours

Text

AVIDITY

©sooguru

[⌗synopsis ⸝⸝ 𝜗𝜚] when a man decides that he’ll take better care of you than your husband.

[⌗cw ⸝⸝ 𝜗𝜚] DARK CONTENT - this will be a series . stalker! geto x married black fem! reader , cheating husband toji , strong language , sex , violence (domestic abuse) , drug references , cheating (f+m).

chapter 00

─── ⋆⋅𝜗𝜚 " IN the grip of obsession, all else fades away, leaving only the burning desire for what we cannot have. "

desire. something me and my husband toji no longer shared. i tried, trust me i did, but it was pointless. he was no longer with me. his mind was elsewhere. my best bet was that it was with the colleague at his work. the one that would always text his phone asking where he was; the one that would text him saying that she misses him.

i sighed at the thought, continuing to type away at my computer screen. i send a quick text to toji saying that i’ll be home late. i got back to it, wanting to get my work done early so that i could head home at a good time. the office become uninhabited as the sun ran away for the day, the moon coming out for her daily shift.

i sighed once again, looking around the dark office. it felt like i was being watched. i shook it off though, knowing i was just being paranoid beacuse it was dark. i glanced at the time, pouting slightly.

“8 already? i wanted to get home early..ugh.”

i packed up my stuff, calling it a night. i left my workplace, walking downstairs to the car park, my car keys in hand as i walked to my car. as i opened the drivers side door, i spotted a figure in the distance, my eyes narrowing as i looked around the empty area.

as my gaze focussed, i noticed his eyes boring in to me, a blank look on his face; gaze intense before he breaks into a smile, giving me a slow wave.

he was beautiful to say the least. his long raven coloured hair, his muscular frame covered in a black suit. i watched him walk away, my lips parting slightly, unsure of what to make of what just happened. should i be scared? maybe he thought i was someone else.

i get into my car, turning on the engine as i drove out of the car park. on my way out, i spotted him once again. as i drive past, i got a closer look at what this mystery man looked like. i could see his head turn, brandishing another grin as he gave me a wink, his light brown eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

how odd? i don’t know.

once i got home, i was met with the sounds of sex. the bed creaking and slapping against the wall.

“oh.”

i stood at my front door, unsure of what to do. i knew he wouldn’t care if i caught him in the act, instead i took off my shoes; leaving them by the door before heading to the kitchen, my belly grumbling as i hoped there was some food somewhere. maybe he bought something and left a little bite for me..

who am i kidding.

i looked into the empty fridge, nothing but water in it. i sighed loudly, going to the alcohol cabinet, taking out some whiskey while i pulled up doordash, wondering which fast food place would deliver at this time.

pizza? maybe some chinese food..hm. options, options, options. i decided on just getting a pizza since it was the cheapest option. i tried my best to ignored the loud pounding followed by screams of pleasure upstairs, remembering when we used to have sex. it always feels amazing when you’re in love.

i pushed the thoughts from my head, taking a swig of the whiskey, resting my head on my hands, wondering how my life ended up like this. the opposite of everything i ever wanted. the bruise on my thigh was evidence of that.

i wanted to escape, to turn back time and choose a different path. one where toji fushiguro wasn’t in my life..then maybe i wouldn’t be stuck in a loveless marriage with a husband who’d rather hurt me than love me.

who’d rather give me bruises instead of kisses.

anything would be better than this hell.

i wanted to leave him, but every time i’d bring up getting a divorce, he’d yell and throw a fit. i was pulled from my thoughts at the sound of my doorbell. i quickly got up, taking my purse with me so i could tip the doordasher, however, when i opened the door, nobody was there. just my pizza box on the ground,

“what the hell? god..”

i huffed, grumbling as i snatched the box up, slamming the door shut, causing the noises from upstairs to cease. opening my pizza box, i discovered the strangest thing.

the pepperoni was obviously moved, discoloured patches remained on the cheese from where they once laid. the meat was shaped into a heart, in the middle, written in ketchup was ‘I SEE YOU’.

my heart started to race, unsure of who would do something like this. maybe they got the wrong address? but my name and address were on the receipt stuck on the box.

perhaps it was a prank? yeah. a couple of kids live across from here so i wouldn’t be surprised. but..it was so late. who would be pulling pranks at this hour..?

nonetheless, i ate the pizza, hearing my husband and his coworker come down from upstairs, her heels clicking as she left the house, leaving me with just him. i didn’t turn to look at toji, just chewing on my pizza silently as he walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge door to see if there was anything.

“so you only got food for yourself?”

he said lowly, glaring at me. i didn’t reply, staring down at the pizza, continuing to eat it, eating a bit faster; not liking the look he was giving me.

“stupid bitch.”

he seethed, snatching the pizza box from my hand, landing a harsh slap on my face, scoffing.

“this should teach your selfish ass a lesson.”

with that, he left with my food. my belly grumbled, a long sigh leaving my lips as i went back to the whiskey, deciding to fill my stomach with that instead. i couldn’t even go to my friend shoko’s for the night because she was on holiday with her girlfriend.

i sighed, resting my forehead against the table, crying softly, my cheek feeling hot and uncomfortable, more tears welling in my eyes because of it.

after a few hours, i stumbled upstairs, only once i was sure he was asleep. i stripped out of my clothes, stumbling into our bedroom, changing into my pyjamas before walking back downstairs. laying on the couch, i could only toss and turn, struggling to sleep with this uncomfortable bruise forming on my cheek. i sighed softly, tears welling in my eyes again, wondering why i ever let my life get this bad.

as i closed my eyes, the face of that man from earlier popped into my head. admiring his beauty from afar in that car park, although, his actions were a little odd, waving to me in the car park? maybe he was just being friendly. i shook it off, soon falling asleep to the dream of living a better life without my husband.

what a great dream.

the morning eventually came, meaning i had to get ready for work. thankfully toji had already gone to his job, leaving the house to myself. i didn’t have work until later, so i spent most of the day gathering groceries and lazing around the house before getting myself dressed into a simple black long sleeved maxi dress that clung to my curves.

it was quite warm today, so i was sure everyone would be dressed in similar attire to me. i put my heels on, hearing them click against my floor as i sprayed my perfume, grabbing my keys and getting in my car, driving off to my job.

—

upon arriving, i was pulled to the side by nanami, a bunch of files in his hands.

“good afternoon y/n, i need you to look over these files for me and hand them to mr. geto’s desk later on. he’s a new transfer from a different firm so try and welcome him as best as you can.”

“oh of course! i’ve been waiting for someone new to come, we’ve been understaffed for too long..”

i said with a pout, complaining about how our team was being overworked. nanami agreed with me, giving me a bottle of water to stay hydrated in the heat before going off to do whatever managers of an accounting firm do.

sighting, i put a smile on my face, greeting all of my coworkers, met with pleasant smiles and sweet conversation. everyone was so nice to me, i really did love working here. it was a nice escape from my life back home.

after completing the files, i walked around, asking others if they could point me to “geto’s desk”. i was excited to meet someone new, wondering what i could do the help welcome him here.

i finally found his stall, walking over to it and knocking on the wall to signal my arrival.

“hello! are you mr. geto?”

as he turned to look at me, my eyes widened in surprise.

“it’s you from the car park last night!”

i blurted out, a warm smile on my lips. it made more sense now, he must’ve seen me at work and wanted to say hi knowing we’d be working together, how nice of him!

he stood up from his desk, taking tall strides towards me, smiling down at me.

god he was taller up close.

“you remembered me?”

he said calmly. his voice was smooth like silk, his eyes trained on me, giving me all of his attention. i looked up at him, my neck straining slightly, the scent of his cologne wafting off his muscular frame; a divine scent, welcomed appreciatively by my nose.

i nodded, my lips parting slightly as i stared at his face.

god he was beautiful.

when they said he was transferred from a different firm, i half expected some old man, but he..he only looked a little older than me..maybe late twenties? early thirties? i was one of the younger workers here, only 24, so mostly everyone was older than me.

“are you alright mrs fushiguro?”

i shook off what sort of trance i was in, closing my mouth as i looked away briefly, clearing my throat. i held the files out to him, giving him a warm smile.

“i was told to give these to you, i’ve looked over everything so it should be relatively easy to input the data. we’re all happy that you’re here mr geto, especially me!”

i said softly, placing my hands in front of me as he took the files from my grasp.

as i said my words, he gave me a certain look. i couldn’t pin what it was..but it sent chills down my spine. good or bad? i didn’t know yet.

he simply nodded, turning around and walking back to his desk, laying the files down. he exuded calm confidence, an addictive aura surrounding him. i feared that if i lingered too long, i’d say something unprofessional.

“your words are extremely kind. thank you mrs fushiguro.”

“you can just call me y/n, i’m sure we’ll be friends soon enough”

i said in a soft tone. he gave me a small smile, his beautiful hair falling into his face slightly as he nodded.

“well then you can call me suguru.”

as i was about to say something, i noticed the time.

“oh no! i’ll be late for my meeting!”

i rushed off, stopping myself and running back to geto.

“goodbye suguru! i’ll see you later!”

i rushed off again, heading into my meeting with suguru stuck on my mind. he was so handsome. too handsome. what was a man like him doing in a stuffy office like this? i was now officially excited to know more about this new mystery man.

who exactly are you mr. geto?

#anime fanfic #anime x reader #fanfic #geto x black y/n #geto fanfic #geto x black reader #jujutsu geto #geto smut #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto x y/n #jjk smut #jjk series #sooguru

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izukuwus · 1 day

Text

I don't think we can put this in the sports column (NSFW) - karasuno/reader

m.list - read on ao3

A/N: wrote this months ago. didn't edit it for ages bc I thought it would suck to edit. it didn't suck to edit it fucking rocked and I'm never questioning myself again hell yeah

Summary: You infiltrate Karasuno's volleyball club for the university paper and take to bed a few of the rumors you've heard.

Warnings: smut, orgy/gangbang, oral sex, fingering, handjobs, double penetration, spitroasting, creampies, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, uhhhhh marking, exhibitionism, accidental voyeurism, overstimulation, light dom/sub stuff (submissive reader), uhhhhhh there's. there's a lot going on here guys. I wasn't fucking around when I said karasuno gangbang.

Word count: ~7000

It’s the night before your first game since you started this little investigation, and you are pressed flat against the wall outside the gym, a hand firm against your mouth in a desperate attempt to not make a noise.

There’d been rumors, sure. And yeah, you were here to investigate those rumors.

Karasuno is such a good team. They’ve gotta be doing some crazy shit to be that close and play that well, though.

That had been the… family-friendly version of the rumors. The more salacious of them had gone into detail you’d blushed too hard to repeat—images of working out issues with clothes off and loud gasps and—

Okay, chill. You’re a journalist. This is nothing.

(Okay, you’re a journalism major, technically speaking. But you need to get used to these things. It’s not like you’ve never had sex before.)

You had enmeshed yourself in the Karasuno University volleyball team after picking up the scent of those rumors about a month ago. Most of the rumors, you thought, were too stupid to entertain. It’s not like they were actually partaking in witchcraft to win games. That would be completely stupid. You assumed, honestly, that they had just clicked. Yeah, it didn’t really seem like everyone got along—the freshmen were constantly at each other’s throats, the captain had his hands full reigning in half the team comprised of spitfires, and there was at least one guy who seemed to believe his job on the team was to piss off as many of his teammates as possible. The only ones safe seemed to be the seniors and the girls, of which there were three if you counted yourself.

So far, it had seemed to be that there was no version of the rumor that was true—no, there were no blood sacrifices, yes, they did sometimes sleep, no, there were no crazy orgies in place to encourage team bonding, and no, they did not seem to be some sort of micro-cult. Disappointing for your article though it was, they had welcomed you in with almost no resistance, and you had found nothing out of the ordinary. They were just… normal athletes. Maybe a bit more passionate than most, but… normal.

Except. Except.

Here you are, the night before they have a match, listening to wet squelches and distinct slaps and what is undoubtedly moaning, unable to figure out exactly who the moans are coming from except that there’s definitely more than two people involved in whatever’s happening inside that gym, and fighting back the urge to peek through the cracked door and figure out exactly what the fuck is going on. (Or, uh, who the fuck is getting it on.)

Fuck. Are they seriously… seriously fucking in the gym right now?

There’s the burning shame of having caught them. The absolute mortification of knowing that you’re sitting there listening to them have sex with reckless abandon. You should be uncomfortable, but instead, you catch yourself squeezing your thighs together.

A particularly loud moan catches you off guard, and you jerk your finger from your mouth—when had you started biting it to keep quiet?—and flee while you still have the chance.

(As far as anyone else is concerned, when you’re safe within the confines of your single-person dorm room, there’s no proof to say that you snaked a hand down your pants, still thinking of that brightly-lit gym, of the idea of having been caught listening to them, of being pulled inside and—

There’s no proof.)

The day-to-day doesn’t change. You don’t let it. The guys played their match, and they won, and it was great. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t smiling as they won, and your report for the sports column of the university paper was more than glowing. They’re a really fun team to watch, more so now that you know them—even if you’re now taking every effort in your head to not act like a total freak around them.

Honestly, you even think you're doing a pretty good job of it. You pretended not to notice the smell in the gym the morning after The Event—faint though it was, there was undeniably the hint of sex still in the air—you forced down any errant thoughts around them, and you didn't breathe so much as a word to anyone about it. What does it matter if they're having orgies or whatever the night before a game? What does it matter at all?

Luckily, you spend more time talking to the girls than anything—Shimizu and Yachi are becoming fast friends with you, you think out of an eagerness to have another girl around in a large group of guys. They're easier to talk to, too, since you don't recall hearing any particularly feminine moans during The Event. It's possible they have no idea. Possible that they, too, think things are normal. (Or else, they're the source of the orgy rumors, but neither seems much like the type.) They tell you innocuous little things about the team, like that time Hinata and Kageyama were so focused on their little rivalry that they ran clear to the next town before realizing they'd lost the rest of the team, and you get caught up in much-needed girl talk when you go out to eat together. Little debates on birth control, on dating, on whether or not that one psych professor can get it.

By the time the next game rolls around, you've nearly re-assimilated into the concept of a normal life. It’s really not a big deal, anyways—people have sex. It’s normal.

“Well, [name],” Daichi says towards the end of practice one day, about a week before. “You were only going to be here for a few weeks, right? How have you liked it?”

You nod, polite smile decorating your lips. “It’s been really enjoyable! It’s a bit sad that I won’t be around after the next game, honestly. You guys are really fun to be around.”

“Hmm?” Tsukishima says, an eyebrow raised your way. At some point, you seem to have captured the attention of everyone in the room, though you’re not quite sure what you did. You can sense their eyes on you though—a few of the more open guys stare, a few of the more polite ones glance out of the corners of their eyes. You’re stuck in the spotlight as Tsukishima takes a step towards you.

Why does one step suddenly feel so dangerous?

“You know, I’m sure no one here would stop you if you decided to stay.”

Yeah, your blood’s running cold. You get a firm grip on your brain in hopes of not horribly misinterpreting everything that’s going on, but—

“You confirmed the information you were looking for, right? Two weeks ago, hanging around outside the gym before the game.”

Ah.

Your face isn’t sure whether it wants to go pale or erupt in a furious blush. You, for your part, scramble for an answer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t? Are you that dense, or are you lying to us?”

A tiny squeak passes from your throat. “W-what’re you—“

“I was expecting something to show up in the school paper by now, but instead we just got a glowing column about how well we played the next day. Not a word of it. Why is that?”

“Oi, Tsukishima, aren’t you laying it on a bit thick?” one of the others says.

“It’s fine,” he replies, looking down at you as you look down at the floor. “Well, [name]? I’m waiting, Miss Reporter.”

The words burn a path down to your crotch, and you are absolutely not losing here, not now. You’ve just decided that. You meet his eye with a determined look. “I run the sports column, not the gossip column, Tsukishima. It hardly matters to me what you guys are getting up to—“

“You’re blushing, though. And you had to have heard before getting wrapped up in this, right? I’m comfortable speaking for everyone here when I say you can really find out the truth, if you want.”

“H-huh?”

He’s boxed you in, your back hitting the wall. Nowhere to run.

“What do you say? Wanna become an honorary member of the volleyball club?”

A sound sort of reminiscent of a boiling kettle leaves you, and you shove him away before you register it. “P-please give me time to think about it!”

A heavy silence.

“Alright, that’s enough. Let’s try not to scare the poor girl, yeah?” Suga says. He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “If she wants to, she wants to, and if she doesn’t, she doesn’t. [name], if you wanna go for the day, you can.”

“I, um…”

He nods and guides you towards the door. Before you can properly escape, he leans in close: “if you do decide you want to, come see us after practice Friday night and we’ll initiate you. If not, we’ll respect that, okay?”

Initiate.

Friday night.

You swallow, throat feeling suddenly dry.

Just what have you gotten yourself into?

You spend the week caught between a rational panic and another emotion you are not willing to put a name to. Yachi had texted you not long after your escape that night, an apology and a really genuine “no one will be mad if you don’t show Friday”. That was relaxing, just slightly, except the little pang as you realized you actually did want to show. You’ve had a text back drafted to her the past three days, glaring back at you as you agonized over your phone screen:

No problem at all! I just had one question about what this “initiation” would entail. You know, to prepare myself!

You’re pretty sure you’ve deleted and re-drafted the exact same text about fifty times. Normally, you’d text a friend, ask them to help you review what you’re saying to make sure it sounds chill, but who the fuck are you going to tell about this? The implication was clear. Freaked out as you are, you’re not exactly interested in spreading the information, either.

Friday morning is when you actually do get the guts to send it, having spend the week pointedly avoiding everyone, volleyball-related or otherwise. The final draft:

Sorry for being a little AWOL! Had some thinking to do, lol. I just wanted to ask what I can expect if I did show up tonight? You know, so I’m prepared?

She’d responded immediately—not with a text, but with an email and a call, the call coming through less than a minute after you’d gotten a notification of an email from her.

Somehow, your morbid curiosity on what you should know before showing up, if you chose to, turns into an hour-long phone conversation turns into sitting down with an open notebook turns into you reviewing the document she’d emailed you, freshly showered while Yachi goes through your closet.

“You wanna wear something sexy, but kinda cheap. Sometimes they get a bit too excited. After the first time, you don’t really have to participate in this stuff, if you’re busy or just not up for it, but especially for this first time, don’t give them the opportunity to wreck any clothes you care about.”

You nod, make a note on your open notebook, thighs squeezing together impatiently. She emerges from your closet, a bright look on her face as she holds up a miniskirt you’d long since relegated to the very back. “This is a cute skirt! It’s a really strong candidate.”

“Do you think so?” you cringe. “Honestly, I’m worried it might be a bit… y’know, short.”

“[full name].” She gives you a flat look. “You do understand what’s happening tonight, right?”

“…right. I’ll wear the skirt.”

She brightens up in an instant. “Good! Now let me find a matching top…”

When she’s satisfied, your outfit laid out and you almost mentally prepared to actually get dressed for this sort of thing, you expect her to leave the room, but she simply waits.

“Uh, Yachi, I need to…”

“I just thought of something,” she says, face blank. “[name], have you ever been with a girl before?”

Ah.

Your cheeks feel hot. You’ve not exactly tried to hide that you’re bisexual—if nothing else, the bi pride flag on your wall would be indicator enough—but as far as actual experience with girls…

“I’ve… thought really hard about it…? I haven’t really had the opportunity.”

She nods to herself. “Right. Before you get ready, it’ll be easier if I do this now.”

Her lips are on yours before you can fully process it, soft and tasting faintly of pineapple chapstick. She kisses you long and slow, lets you relax into it. When she pulls away, she smiles shyly, like she didn’t just kiss you for the purposes of prepping you for an orgy she’ll be involved in later today. “There. Get that first out of the way before we have to make out in front of the volleyball team.”

She waves on her way out of your bedroom. “Get dressed! I wanna make sure that outfit works for today.”

Right. Get dressed.

Well, if nothing else, you’re definitely sure about being bisexual now.

If not for Yachi, you would have backed out a hundred times already. As it is, she keeps a gentle, reassuring hand on your back as the two of you enter the gym, a good few minutes after the usual practice officially ends. They’ve already finished cleaning up everything from the day, the air already seemingly charged even before the part where they notice you’ve actually shown up.

Yachi closes the door behind you with a sweet smile. “We got her!” she cheers by way of greeting.

The eyes that suddenly land on you—all fourteen pairs, including Yachi—seem heavier than usual. Hungry. You can’t help the nerves that threaten to make you tremble at the promise of what’s to come.

But there’s Yachi again, ever-sweet and cute as she wraps an arm around your side.

“Oh, I see that!” Daichi is the first to say. “Glad to see you’ve decided to join us, [name]. Here I thought we’d scared you off for good!”

You giggle nervously. “Well, I just… you know me! Always gotta over-think things.” That’s good. That’s casual. You’re managing an almost-even tone while you talk. Almost like you’re a normal, real human person.

“I know the feeling,” Asahi sighs.

Suga sets down a chair near the center of the gym, eyes watching you in silent interest.

“I’m guessing since you came with her that you’ve been coaching her, Yachi?”

She nods. “She’s had the whole rundown. Knows what to expect and everything.” She unwinds herself from you in preparation for whatever’s to come next. You try not to jump at the sound of the lock on the door clicking shut.

“Good. Good.” Daichi nods. “Come sit, [name]. No sense in putting it off, right?”

You nod slowly, timidly stepping forward. Yachi follows close behind.

“Limits?” Daichi asks firmly. “Loud enough so we all hear you.”

Another laugh from you, shaky with nerves as you perch on the chair Suga set out for you. You rattle them off, having memorized the list in order for this exact moment. Knowing you, you’d forget something otherwise, and you nearly do.

“Got it. And Yachi told you about the stoplight system?”

“She didn’t really need to,” you admit, a bit quieter. “I’ve got it.”

“Good. Shimizu, Yachi, if you’d get her ready? Ladies first, and all.”

Wordlessly, they descend on you. You were expecting… you don’t know. Not the sudden press of lips, familiar from an hour or two prior, against your own, or Shimizu’s arms so quick to drape over your shoulders from behind. You press your lips back against Yachi’s insistently, perhaps a bit excited, perhaps just trying to get yourself into the right headspace before you think too hard about the twelve guys currently watching you be sandwiched between the girls or Shimizu’s delicate fingers unbuttoning your top.

Your head spins with it already—Shimizu’s perfume, Yachi’s chapstick. Shimizu’s hand pushing your hair out of the way, her lips attaching to your neck gently. “You didn’t mention anything about marks in your limits,” she mumbles against your skin as a little whine escapes you. “Can we take that to mean it’s okay to mark you, or should I be careful?”

Yachi pulls away a bit, and you chase her lips. She pushes you back with a giggle. “She asked you a question.”

“Oh. Right.” You blink owlishly as you play back the question in your head. “Uh, yeah. I mean—it’s—it’s fine.”

“Are you sure? A few of the guys are not going to let up if they know that.”

Despite the exhibitionist dream going on right now, you don’t quite have the strength to admit that you quite enjoy the marks, actually, so instead: “I’m sure.”

“Alright.” Then, both pairs of lips are back—suckling your neck, kissing you until you’re out of breath. There’s no hurry, none at all, and you barely notice when your top is discarded completely, barely even notice the chatter of the guys bickering—when you strain, you just barely figure out that they’re deciding something about who gets a turn with you when.

You try not to shudder too hard at the thought.

Yachi slides a hand up to your bra and underneath it, rolls a nipple between her fingers. Shimizu follows up, finds your wrist and guides your hand beneath Yachi’s waistband to palm at her heat. “Have you ever…?”

You part from Yachi again, shake your head, eyes half-lidded and head swimming as you look up into the gym lights. “Hadn’t gotten the chance before—before today,” you admit.

She huffs a gentle laugh in your ear. “I’ll teach you, then.”

Her hand slides up your thigh, up your skirt. Yachi crawls into your lap, arms around your neck for stability as Shimizu’s fingers find your cunt, already wet. “It’s not that different from taking care of yourself,” she murmurs as two delicate fingers, too pretty to be where they are right now, stroke your slit. “Follow my lead, okay?”

You nod, whining when her fingers find your clit.

She teaches you in gentle, fluttery strokes. You lose track of it all quickly—your fingers buried in Yachi, thumb dancing over her clit as she leans over your shoulder to kiss Shimizu. You find it’s not that hard to adjust, and with every breathy gasp you draw from Yachi, you’re well rewarded by the slender fingers pumping into your cunt.

Needy and slipping into the mythical subspace you’ve only had the pleasure of reading about, you lean forward to plant your lips on Yachi’s neck. “No marks,” she sighs to you. You whine and move on, not letting yourself linger long enough to mark her skin. Seeming pleased with your listening, Shimizu slides a third finger inside you, stretches you out carefully.

“You’ll thank me later.”

She works you up so easily. Is it because you’re pressed between two pretty girls? Is it the ravenous eyes raking over this scene? Or—

Her hand retreats too soon, just as your hips had begun to really move with the friction, and you whine.

“I promise you’ll get there. Just hold on for now, okay?”

You nod, pouting at having been edged, and focus on the way Yachi writhes on your lap.

She’s close, too, you realize.

“So pretty,” you whisper in awe at the look on her face: eyes closed, head tilted back, lips parted just slightly. “You’re so pretty.”

Ah. Clearly she likes the praise, because she flutters around you. You work her more urgently, the wet squelches from your fingers buried in her joining the hushed moans and sighs of the team watching. When she cums, it’s a soft, quiet moan that you could honestly get used to hearing. Her walls flutter ceaselessly around your fingers as she leans down and kisses you again, and you’re sure not to stop until she slumps a little, though, truth be told, your wrist is already sore.

When she climbs off your lap, legs a bit shaky and a sweet, dopey smile on her face, she backs away, exiting the fray entirely. You nod in understanding. The goal, as she’d made very clear, is to make everyone cum at least once, and she’s gotten her fill. Shimizu takes your chin in her hand, tilts your face so she can kiss you, too. After a moment, you pull back. “Um—can I… my wrist… I don’t think I can…”

God, you’re already stupid. By the time you’ve gotten to everyone, you’re gonna be completely brainless, aren’t you?

She nods, helps you out of the chair only to sit you on your knees in front of her, having taken her place. She’s sweet and perfect on your tongue when you eat her out, paying careful, deliberate attention to her clit, and she instructs you in a low tone as she pets your head. It’s a blessing to be between her thighs, a blessing for her to be the first girl you’ve ever eaten out, a blessing to be allowed to draw a quiet moan from her when at last she cums on your tongue.

“Good,” she murmurs to you with a smile when you pull away, cheeks and chin wet with her slick. “I think you’re ready for us to pass you off. Will you be good for them, too?”

You nod, smiling dreamily. She looks over your shoulder and nods before standing and straightening herself out.

Three of your loyal watchers step forward. Seems like the seniors get you next.

You sit nervously, wait for… orders? Guidance? Anything?

You feel like you’re being circled by sharks, honestly. One of said sharks laughs, angelic, and you yelp when Suga’s hands come to rest on your waist. When had he joined you on the floor?

“You’re already tense again. Come on, relax a bit, [name].” His thumbs rub soothing circles into your hips. “See, Asahi’s gonna get nervous, too, if you act like that.”

Daichi pushes Asahi forward, a stern look on his face. Suga pushes you forward, too, until you’re nose to Asahi’s crotch and the prominent bulge in his shorts. “Go on. You took such good care of the girls, and it’s our turn now. Go ahead and open for him.”

You let your mouth hang open. You can be obedient. You can be good.

The bulge in Asahi’s shorts jumps a little as he looks down at you. You’re already deep in this, might as well go all-in—you paw at the waistband of his shorts, waiting for his nod of approval. When you receive it, you grab the shorts and his boxers and pull them down in one swift motion, swallowing thickly when you see the size of the thing.

If all the guys on the volleyball team are this hung, you’re going to be very, very sore in the morning.

You close your eyes, lean in. If you just keep your eyes closed, you don’t have to think about the guys watching you with varying levels of interest, don’t have to think about performing. You stroke him at the base, take as much of his cock into your mouth as you can handle. He lets out a soft groan as you begin to bob your head, and again you feel those hands on your hips. You let Suga do whatever it is he’s planning on, which is how you find your legs being spread a bit, your hips lifted just slightly only for someone—Suga, presumably—to slide his head between your thighs.

There’s a huff of a laugh against your pussy, and you try your best to keep up with sucking off Asahi as you’re yanked downwards to rest on his face. Asahi’s hot on your tongue, and Suga’s tongue is hot on you when he finally lathes his tongue over your sex. Your moan comes out muffled, cutting off into a squeak, almost a gag, when Asahi’s hips buck in response.

A murmured apology, a ruffle of your hair. The gentle affection has your heart and your walls fluttering against your will—Suga pulls away to laugh at you. “She liked whatever you just did, Asahi. Just so you know.”

You whine, roll your hips down in hopes of keeping him from saying anything else incriminating. He punishes you with a harsh suck of your clit, and the three of you fall into a nice rhythm—you taking Asahi’s cock as far into your mouth as you can handle, Suga fucking you on his tongue.

“S-so pretty,” Asahi murmurs when you dare a glance up at his face. He’s been watching you work him intently, sighs and groans filling your ears to let you know you’re doing well. You clench around Suga’s tongue at the praise, go back to work as you dip your head deep. When Asahi cums, he’s low and loud, and you greedily drink up the cum that hits the back of your throat. You’re not far behind, thanks to Suga, writhing on top of him as he forces you to stay seated on his face.

Asahi backs away. Suga slides out from underneath you, moves around to your front to kiss you softly. You shudder at the taste of yourself on his lips, shiver when his tongue slips into your mouth. Against your lips, he mumbles: “you could probably use a little rest already. You’re being really good, you know?”

Daichi chuckles darkly. “Oh, come on. She’ll never be done if we keep letting her rest.”

That’s the only warning you get before your skirt is tugged off. You’re left in nothing but a bra as Daichi begins to slide his fingers between your lips. “You’re doing great. Yachi said you were on birth control—I can assure you everyone here is clean, and she also said you’re okay with no condoms, but I want everyone to hear you say it, if that’s true.”

You whimper. You’re too sensitive for this right now, still shaking from your first orgasm of the night, but his fingers won’t stop moving.

“Well? Yes or no? Don’t make me ask you a third time.”

You gasp—his middle finger dips into your hole, just enough to make your hips buck. “P-please, I—I can—no condoms, please,” you nearly sob, hoping in vain that your bowing to his request will get you some respite.

“You’re so mean, Daichi,” Suga tuts.

You let out a sigh of relief when his fingers leave you, but then you’re being bent over and something hot and thick is sliding through your heat.

“S-sensitive,” you whine out.

“I know,” he replies, and then he’s pressing his way inside you, stretching you out, and you’re letting out a loud keen into the gym. He sits inside you a moment, gives you just long enough to adjust to the stretch before he’s moving. “You really worried us, you know. Do you think it’s polite to disappear without a word all week, [name]?”

“N-no, I’m sorry—“

A single harsh thrust. You cry out. Suga, ever-helpful, kneels down in front of you to give you his lap to rest on. Ever-obedient, you reach out and begin to palm the bulge in his shorts. He takes the chance to unclasp your bra as Daichi sets a slow, almost conversational pace.

You pull Suga out of his shorts, rest your head on his thigh. Focus on jerking him off as Daichi’s pace picks up from slow to harsh. “It’s nice of you to apologize. Don’t do it again.”

“I-I won’t—ah—“

The slow, lazy kisses you’ve taken to pressing against Suga’s cock—pretty and long—don’t mesh well with the bruising grip on your hips, the sharp snap of the captain’s cock in your pussy as he fucks you out. You cling desperately to Suga, jerk him off with no real rhythm as you struggle to take the abuse to your still-sensitive cunt.

By the time Suga’s cum shoots in ropes across your cheek, you’re close again, and Daichi isn’t letting up. “You want it inside, pretty girl?”

“Please,” you whine.

“Good girl,” he croons, and that sends you over the edge a second time, too fast—the fluttering of your walls drags him over with you. Suga takes the chance to stroke your hair almost lovingly as you’re filled up with hot cum, and you whimper as Daichi pulls out of you.

Five down. Nine to go.

You think they might kill you before the night’s over.

They really don’t let you rest—before you even process the retreat of the seniors, three more have stepped forward, and from the corner of your eye you notice the seniors holding back two guys in particular.

(“Dude, it’s our turn—“

“She can’t handle five at once. We already decided before this that you two get to go after them.”)

Ennoshita’s cock hangs heavy in front of you, and with a whimper, you drag yourself to sit up and take it in your mouth. He laughs softly. “You got used to this quickly. Look at you, you’re a mess.”

You’re not really willing to reply to that. You’re so far past embarrassment—if he’s trying to embarrass you, all you’re getting is a surge of heat low in your stomach all over again, as though your body could possibly handle any more right now.

There’s a nudge at your side, someone’s hand sliding up your arm and bringing you to take another cock in one of your free hands. A glance—Kinoshita is on one side of you, Narita on the other, and you are more than happy to take care of them, lack of coordination be damned.

“Take your time,” Narita says in a low voice. “I get this weird feeling the other two are not going to be very gentle with you when they get a turn.”

You shudder, moan around Ennoshita’s cock at the thought. His hips roll into your mouth, and you shoot him a pleading look. You weren’t particularly trying to send him any hints, but he takes some sort of hint anyway—his hand tangles in your hair, really expertly, actually, and he takes just a little bit of the load off you as he begins to fuck your throat, slow and easy, so you don’t have to keep track of getting off three at once. You relax your jaw, let him work, almost enjoy yourself as you twist your wrists around Kinoshita and Narita’s cocks.

Ennoshita is careful with you. Forceful, sure, but careful. You could gag on him—easily, if that was what he wanted—but he never makes you take him too deeply, simply enjoys the feeling of your mouth, your tongue, the way you’re completely lost in your little initiation. As his pace begins to stutter, you try to bob your head with him, unpermitted by his grip in your hair. You’re fully under now, head caught in a delicious space you’ve never quite experienced. Floating, really.

He pulls you off him firmly. “Color?”

You let out a little half-whine, looking up at him with lidded eyes and a quizzical head tilt as you try to remember what the fuck he’s asking you through the fuzz.

“Mm?”

“Damn, she’s totally lost.”

“Think she’ll be okay? Should we—“

A little panic surges in you, and you jolt forward as you finally process what he’s looking for. “G-green! Green. I’m green.”

He nods. “You’re sure?”

“Mm. Floaty. But green.”

“Good. That’s a good girl. You’re gonna keep being good?”

You reply with a whine, a tug forward in hopes of giving him the message to put his cock back in your mouth right now.

He gets the message.

The two in your hands tumble over the edge first, and you moan as you feel them paint you with their cum. You might like being taken advantage of like this. Ennoshita isn’t too far behind. He spills into your mouth with a groan, untangling fingers from your hair and smoothing it down gently. Before he backs away to let the next guys have their way with you, he leans down, keeps an affectionate hand on top of your head. “Good luck.”

“Mm?”

He backs away without explanation, and before you fully process it, you’re being pushed into a new position on your hands and knees. “Finally,” Noya groans from behind you, hands groping your ass almost reverently. “You’re being so good, it was so hard not to come take you while the others were busy with you.”

A whine. You’re more or less losing your ability to speak, between the soreness building in your jaw and the cotton in your head. Something bumps against your pussy, and you flinch with a whimper.

Tanaka is in front of you, watching your face carefully as Noya’s hands roam your body from behind. “Still good, [name]?”

You nod.

“Good,” he says, and then there’s yet another cock in your mouth. You’re starting to lose count. But, hey, Tanaka’s dick is an effective gag to keep you from getting too loud when Noya slides into you with an obscene squelch.

“There you are,” he groans, grip bruising-tight on your hips. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

Tight and sensitive. Noya isn’t particularly thick, but at this angle he’s already pressing against a spot soft and delicious in your cunt. Fuck, he hasn’t even moved yet and you already feel dangerously close.

You rock your hips back against him, desperate even as you take Tanaka’s cock as deep into your mouth as you can manage. You get barely any movement before Noya takes the hint, and then one hand is holding you steady as he snaps his hips, sharp and hard, into you. The other sneaks around, finds your clit with ease and begins to frantically torture it. You cum hard and fast around him, and he lets his head drop backward with a groan, not stopping even as you struggle to hold yourself up and take it.

It’s all so much. So much. So much—

You barely manage to bring a hand up to finish Tanaka in your mouth, desperate to have just one less thing drowning you, and lucky for you, it works—he grits out praises as he spills into your mouth, strokes your hair as you swallow as much of his cum as you can handle.

With your mouth free, Nishinoya pauses just long enough to pull out and flip you onto your back. “Your knees are starting to hurt, right?” he coos, cock throbbing against your entrance again. “But you’re doing so well.”

You whimper. It’s all you still know how to do. He takes in your body, chest heaving and tits shaking from exertion, and slides a hand up your side, pausing to tweak a nipple. Your back arches. “God, you’re perfect. Are your tits always this sensitive, or do you just like being watched?”

“Al-ways,” you moan out, voice broken. His eyes are ravenous as he takes you in, like he doesn’t know where to look.

“Oi, Noya, you’re not the last one that gets her today. Go ahead and fuck her already.”

He doesn’t need telling twice. His arms are shaking as he pins you down by the wrists, shaking as he plunges into you all over again.

Noya is brutal. Dimly, you have the thought that you understand why they held him back as long as possible, though you think it might have made things worse. He leans down, lips against your neck, and groans when you immediately clench around him. “Your neck, too?” he hisses out.

You nod, barely able to catch your breath or un-fuzz your head long enough to talk.

“Fuck,” he breathes, taking the time to suck a few marks into your throat.

“Please,” you whine in reply. That’s all it takes for him to sink his teeth into a soft spot on your neck, and then you’re cumming again with an actual sob as he cums inside you, the second time someone’s cum inside tonight.

Nine… ten? Down. You can’t count anymore. He pulls out of you, lathes his tongue over where he’d bitten you, leaves you laying there to catch your breath.

“Need a break?”

You shake your head, not even bothering to check who’s asking you.

A laugh. “You sure? You look a little dead.”

One eye opened lazily. Yamaguchi. “Can take it,” you slur out. You’re utterly boneless. Exhausted, really. But you’ve got… a number more to get through, and fuck it, you’re in way too deep to give up now, and Yamaguchi’s looking kind of delicious, and—

Next thing you know, you’re slumped between him and Tsukki, one in your ass, the other in your cunt, you openly sobbing as Tsukki hisses condescension in your ear, fingers in your mouth to keep it open while they split you in half—

(“How is she even alive right now? I don’t think any of us made it through the whole thing without a real break.”

“We’re keeping her. We have got to keep her.”)

Next thing you know, you’re jerking Kageyama off onto your face, tongue lolling out to catch every drop of cum you can—

(“Genuinely impressive. Are we sure she’s never done this before?”

“Dude, I’m serious, what do we have to do to get her to come every time?”)

Next thing you know, Hinata is thrusting into you at blinding speeds, and you’re cumming again, moans more like broken sobs—

(“I mean, she keeps saying she’s good, and she’s almost through…”

“She’s just having a good time. Probably been dreaming about something like this since before she showed up for her ‘article’.”)

There’s a few expectant looks as you lay there at last, thoroughly fucked out, unable to even think about moving as the TV static in your brain begins to finally fade out.

Holy fuck.

Are you done? That was the last of them, right? You’re done, aren’t you?

“Now, now, [name],” Tsukishima says, and his tone has you whining. That was everyone. You’re done.

“The rule was that you have to make everyone cum before you’re done,” he explains, like you’re five or something.

“D-didn’t… didn’t I…?”

A few slow shakes of the head from a few guys.

“You’re here, too.”

Your blood runs cold.

“Noo,” you whine. “Can’t.”

“You can’t?” Tsukki crouches down beside you. “You’ve made fourteen people cum tonight, and you’re giving up now? What happened to the slut we’ve been watching all night?”

“Can’ttt,” you repeat, new tears already forming. How many times have you cum already?

He sighs. “You’re really not serious about this, are you?”

“No, I am, I-I—“

“Then you can make yourself cum one last time for us to see.”

You whimper, limply bring a hand to rest between your legs. Should’ve brought a damn vibrator.

You work yourself up as fast as you can handle, cup one breast in your off hand to roll your nipple between your fingers. Slide two fingers in and shudder when you find the mix of cum there.

(“It’s just mean making her do it herself after all that.”

“If she can actually cum again after all that, I don’t even know what to say.”)

Technically, you could probably get away with faking it. …probably. But, well…

The little competitive bitch in you wants to prove them wrong, and, hell, you’ve already put on a show for everyone here, right? So you get into it, best you can. Roll your hips weakly against your hand, sigh and whimper at just how much this all is. Rub your clit as fast as your wrist can still handle, actually fucking thrash as you fall over the edge one last time.

You blacked out.

That, at least, you can figure out. You’re being held against one of any number of potential muscular bodies, cradled, really. Like you’ll break or something.

“How long do you think she has to be out before we call someone?”

“Don’t,” you groan. “’M alive. Barely.”

Fucking hell, your throat is dry. You open one eye to peek at Suga, who’s already got a water bottle ready for you. It’s Asahi holding you, and he shifts to let you tilt your head back as Suga tips the water bottle into your mouth.

Someone is wiping the worst of the cum off you with a damp rag. You squirm, whine as they clean you up. Drink like you’ve spent the past six months in the desert.

“How’re you feeling?” Yachi asks sweetly. Ah. She’s the one cleaning you up.

“Gooood,” you slur out. “Tired. Sore. Don’t wanna be a good girl for the next twennyfour hours at least.”

She laughs. “You know you could have taken a break, right? You didn’t have to get everyone off in one go.”

You simply groan. In the background, a few of the previously unaccounted-for guys are cleaning up the mess where you’d been laid out on the floor. Someone taps something against your lips. You accept it, mostly out of laziness. Sweet. Crunchy. Chocolate-covered pretzel. You wonder if you can get them to move your jaw for you.

“Do you still want to come back after this, [name]?” Shimizu asks.

You nod. Accept another pretzel. Snuggle into Asahi’s arms. You think they picked him for cuddle duty because he’s got good arms. “’Sgood. ‘Mgood.”

She laughs slightly. Drapes something over your naked body.

A black jacket, reading Karasuno Volleyball Team.

“Welcome to the team, then,” she says, tilting her head with an ethereal smile. You blink blearily. Smile back.

You cannot fucking wait for their next match.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory

If you'd like to be tagged, let me know via any contact method what you'd like to be tagged in (eg. character-specific, all works, all smut works, etc.). If your url appears on this list but is not underlined/you didn't get a notification, please ensure your blog is set to appear in search results in your blog settings! If you've got it set not to for some particular reason, consider subscribing on my ao3 for an update notification, as I always crosspost on ao3 simultaneously. After three unsuccessful tagging attempts, you will be removed from the taglist.

As always, thanks for reading! <3

#haikyuu x reader #my fics #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu reader insert smut #karasuno x reader

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sea-salted-wolverine · 2 days

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I'm violently obsessed with the salmon plushie, is there absolutely any way we could get even a very rough pattern? Like rough ideas of shapes/sizes/placements? It wouldn't have to be super detailed, or even complete, I'm mostly interested in how you did the head/jaw and fins. I would be willing to pay you for it. You are the BEST auntie ever!!!! 🐟💗

@benevolentbirdgal you asked something similar i just haven't got around to answering

I have had people in real life ask for a pattern of how I did this and unfortunately I don't even know how to read/follow a pattern much less write/arrange/format one. If you scroll back through my blog a bit you can find all the progress pictures, they should all be tagged with both #plushie and #neice creature.

I suppose if you wanted a write up of the process it would go something like this.

Step one, become intimately acquainted with fish. Be born in a place where a large chunk of the state charter is about fishing rights. Go to kindergarten in a place where they not only teach kids about every phase of the life cycle but also raise salmon fry in classroom aquariums. Catch and clean alot of fish, like alot, like get up into the thousands. Become so quick and efficient at cleaning fish that tourists stop to watch you and people ask for lessons and knife sharpening.

Step two, now that you have the anatomy of a salmon ingrained into the fibers of your soul, just, draw one in its entirety on the inside of a pair of jeans that never fit. Make it half size, for baby hands, about the size of a trout. I literally never put a ruler anywhere near this thing, but like, 12-14 inches tip to tail.

Step three, make the pectoral, pelvic, anal, and dorsal fins as well as the caudal fin(tail). Make vague plans about the adipose fin and then give up and ignore it because no one cares about the adipose fin, including the fish themselves. Turn all the fins right-side out and stitch their rays on, giving them a little bit of structure and shape. Get to the tail fin and realize you are not stitching 20 fin rays on there and find a happy medium between accuracy and ease.

Step four. Fuck. Fish are hollow. The whole point of cleaning a fish is to cut it into lots of little pieces, some of which you eat and some of which you discard, which is not something you want of a child's toy. You could. But you don't want whoever is cleaning up after this toddler to run around picking up lil fishy organs. Rethink the way you filet a fish. Cringe at the thought that the most efficient way to make this plush is the least efficient way to filet a fish.

The filets themselves are easy, or at least, they're easy if you've done step one. It's an oblong shape with the belly color stitched directly to the denim, about the width of a hand. The meat is a safety orange tee-shirt that is now a crop top (insert long rant about the correct color of sockeye salmon meat here. It should not be fucking pink. Do not let anyone tell you it should be pink.) Stitch everything inside out and turn the seams in, then stuff them with shredded tee-shirt scraps because batting and stuffing is for people who can plan projects before they do them.

Step five, carcass. The dorsal fin gets seamed between a pair of denim strips to make the back. The adipose fin is a useful reference point for the locations of everything else but I couldn't figure out how to get the seams to work the way I wanted them so I ignored the adipose fin. Rip. The meat color gets seamed to the back and then the belly color to make a funky looking tube shape with fins sticking out. There was some finagling to make the fins sit in the places I wanted them to but everything sits in a seam except the anal fin which was easy enough to shove in a dart.

Step six, fishheads. Uhh, okay, there's how I did it and then there's how I would do it again. What I did was make a head out of a single piece of denim with some darts to make it the shape I wanted. Then I made the gills a sort of half moon shaped pocket with a redish pink color and seamed the pectoral fins in where the red met the orange. The jaw was a stuffed tongue of material attached to the belly and inside of the mouth, which is when realized I forgot to stuff the body. I do like how I stuffed the body because I took 6 layers of tee-shirt material tacked together in the vague shape of a fish and crammed it inside so it laid flat. It held more structural shape without being rigid or puffy. If I could have remembered to do that before I stitched everything close it would have been ideal.

If I was gonna do it over I would have made the head hollow and lined it with the red gill color and made the jaw a continuation of the belly so there would be an opening all the way through. I would also add some gill frills and fill them with rigid plastic to maintain the structure. I would also rearrange the pectoral fins to seam them in right behind the gills rather than below them.

Eyeballs this time around were buttons and finding sew on eyeballs is harder than I thought it would be but thats the obvious upgrade.

Guts were just a simple blob hand-sewn on, but with a bit more planning, I could actually do a digestive tract gas bladder, liver and roe sac. If I was gonna get that in depth I would rearrange the piecing order to have correctly fileted belly, so it would better explain how to harvest roe and belly meat. Plus as long as I was planning things rather than just slapping things together I would do some quick machine embroidery for muscle separations and a midline on the scales, mostly to make it pretty but also as a reference and indication of musculature.

Oh. Step six, the damn Velcro. Every craft store in Alaska is out of Velcro at the moment. Okay, maybe not every single one but all of them in between Fairbanks and Anchorage. And Home Depot. I found the stuff to stick on walls at Lowes which did not work nearly as well as I hoped it would. I had to force the needle through by bracing it against the floor and forcing the plush down on top of it. Forget a thimble, I was considering pliers. I was rushing (and also finishing it at my moms house) by the time I got to this part but I would get more creative and cut it into a shape more reminiscent of a spine next time.

I was gonna vacuum pack it before I wrapped it as a present because it would have been hilarious but I was slapping wrapping paper on while getting squawked at about being late, so we can all mourn the joke that never got the chance to land.

In conclusion, winging it gets you some crazy places and wild results but there are trade offs to careening speed, mostly in missed opportunities. But if you have a lot of pre-existing knowledge like general understanding of how seams work and also how fish work, you can pad out a lot of the inevitable fuck ups. If you are just jumping into raw dog a plushy pattern, I recommend starting out with something you are innately familiar with, rather than something that strikes you as cool.

#ask answered #plushie #Salmon #Project write up #Jesus this took forever #Tumblr ate another paragraph every time I looked away #Not a pattern but close enough #Pattern

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sw1ft-sniff · 2 days

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Ok guys I was causally watching ‘the beginning’ animatic again and a thought hit me what if techno was on the QSMP during Phil’s EnderKing arc like with all the deity contact and stuff I would imagine some things like

when Phil had the EnderKing contact him in his base or when rose contacted him the first time I’m assuming he would call techno first and I think it go something like this

‘Hey can you come ohvr?’ techno looks over the message from Phil, lifting himself from his bed and gathering his gear he arrived to the wall the warp loudly making his presence known

“Hey Phil,” techno greets Phil who is standing out front of his base waiting for him

““Phil?” Techno calls out from above the entrance while he enters, “I’m here!”

“Hey tech, I really need you to check something out for me” Phil replies from the back, the uncertainty and fear in his friend’s voice instantly putting him on alert.

“Phil are you alright?” Techno follows him down into the basement the empty beds of the kids sitting across the room still. “to be honest with you mate, Probably not.” He chuckles slightly while going down to where Lullah was building her farms. “What do you need to show me?” Techno looking over to Phil who is squinting towards the back wall “just a second mate, I-I need to check.” Phil runs up ahead stoping before the back wall and staring.

“Phil?”

“It not here anymore..”

“Phil what’s wrong?”

“It’s not here, I’m a fucking dumbass of course it’s gone!”

“What’s gone Phil??” Techno walks in front of his friends gaze. “I- There was flowers all over the wall and vines, and a giant skull of a crow or maybe deer?” he stops “And and a book I should still have it!” He opens his inventory his eyes dropping more. “Techno it’s all gone…” he says tears glazing over his eyes but never falling “I’m going fucking insane aren’t I?!” He looks at techno “Listen phil, your not going insane I don’ know what’s going on but tell me what you saw.”

#And then he tells Phil about all the things that appear and disappear and sometimes reappear :)#emerald duo #qsmp #philza #minecraft #qsmp philza #philza minecraft #philza lore #technoblade #technoblade qsmp #technoblade never fucking dies #o7 bird guys brain #qsmp eggs #qsmp lullah #qsmp chayanne

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rontra · 2 days

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My hand never seems to actually translate the ideas that are spinning up in my brain. how do you get it all out? any advice? just draw more? do i need to use more references? your art is just so beatiful you are one of my top inspos.

ah first of all thank you very much! i'm honored! 😳

(long post incoming lol)

to answer the question though, i don't think i sufficiently translate what's in my mind and i frequently let myself down! but it's important not to let that Stop you. i think overall it's sort of multifaceted and different for everyone--theres no single answer i can give you that will guaranteed work for you--but for me personally i think it mainly comes down to Derangement, DISCRETION!!, Discipline, & Diet

before i say anything more though it's important also to remember that making visual art (in our case drawings/comics) is training like 2 or 3 separate skills (depending on how you divide them). the HAND represents your current drawing ability & technique; what your drawing hand is physically able to produce when you set pen to paper. the BRAIN is the creative engine that cooks up your ideas and thinks of ways to assemble them. and the EYE represents your ability to recognize what art looks like and how it "should" look. when your brain is thinking of ideas and your hand can't capture them, that is not because you're "bad" at it: it means your eye skill is currently outpacing your hand skill. your ability to discern art, to see things like proportions and anatomy and composition and whatever else is going on, is currently stronger than your ability to draw them yourself. this is not a flaw. this is not a flaw. this is not a flaw!!!! but it does mean your hands' ability to capture what your brain has imagined will let your eyes down until your hands catch up. once they do--by studying, practicing your technique, using references, and gaining confidence--your eye skill will then begin to outpace it again. this cycle, the dance between the two skills, is why you might sometimes feel yourself suddenly "getting good" at art, then just as suddenly plateauing or "getting worse"; you are training different parts of what makes art happen. there is nothing wrong with this. you are improving even when it doesnt feel like it--even when it feels like THE LITERAL OPPOSITE is happening. because you're improving different skills!

(and of course as your eye skill develops you will look back at previous stages of development and go "HOW COULD I NOT SEE HOW BAD THIS LOOKS!"--and yeah. that's the thing; you probably, rather literally, couldn't see it! you only think it looks bad now because you've improved your "eye" skill. you should try to be proud of that feeling, even though it also likely sucks and is embarrassing to you at the same time. there's posts, even recent ones, that i go "i cant believe i thought that looked OK enough to post PUBLICLY" and it is embarrassing for me! but all it means is that i'm better at what i do now...so it doesn't get me down too badly. you gotta shrug that stuff off.)

with that out of the way, my four evil councilmen are as follows:

DERANGEMENT: find something you are not normal about. this can be anything (whether it's a topic that interests you, The Character, a medium, a damn color palette...anything!), as long as it captures your mind and motivates you to create. your brain should be spinning up ideas like crazy and your only choice is to draw them. because once you have Derangement the only thing that feels worse than Making Something Subpar is sitting around Not Making Anything At All. you should be interested in what you draw. you should ideally love it, even if you don't love your own art yet. once you know what motivates you, let that simmer until you have no choice but to draw even if you're scared it'll turn out bad. and hey--there will probably (unless you become some kind of Art God) always be parts you think should've turned out better in some way, however:

DISCRETION!!: realistically nobody NEEDS to know what parts of a piece you're unhappy with. it's valuable to have friends/art partners/mentors/whatever that you can comfortably check in with and go "i dont like [part], what do you think" and get feedback, but that's for YOU. for the audience at large, maybe people will notice, maybe they won't, but as an artist you are constantly growing and you will very likely be constantly looking back at past pieces (even just days or hours old sometimes) and going "what the hell was i thinking? how did i not see [error/s], or why didn't i go for [different idea/finish/color palette/etc]?". getting hung up on this will probably either light a fire under you or demotivate you completely depending on your particular brain soup. for me it can go either way depending on where i'm at in my current hand/eye development phase. but i try not to fixate on it. it's enough to observe it and take notes for next time. every drawing is part of your growth and you have to make wonky art in order to occasionally make something that satisfies your eyes. in the meantime, don't beat yourself up or put yourself down. you are gaining experience and technical know-how, and spotting things you'd like to work on for next time; especially if you're sharing this work and other people are telling you they like what you made, there's no need to undercut this by dwelling on the rough parts so much that you can't enjoy it. the important thing is that you made it.

DISCIPLINE: you made it, it's done, now make something new. do it again from the top! you're right: Drawing A Lot is absolutely the key to Drawing Better. it is also usually an evil curse that reveals How Bad You Drew 3 Months Ago. but you have no choice, if you want to hone your skills and improve the Brain Image -> Art Image translation. you have to do it even when it sucks. do it bored, do it scared, but you have to do it or you'll never get anywhere. when improving yourself, you have to draw a lot to see change, and this is the part that sucks, right? feeling like you're not really getting anywhere or like you'll never capture what's in your mind. you can do studies where you collect references and focus in on ironing out something that's bothering you (such as, like, specific objects, perspectives, clothing details, anatomy pieces, light and shadow, etc etc); this can help crack the malaise for sure... learning how to use references is good, as well as whatever tools are available to you (in your medium/software). How To Do This is sort of a different post, but it does help (and sometimes annoyingly so; there's been rare but very annoying moments in my career where i will be simply looking at a picture and idly make an observation that cracks a style/anatomy problem i've had for Years and im always like COME ON!!! hahaha--but yes looking at references and studying them "like an artist" definitely helps, even when it's not as miraculous as that). overall work smarter and nail down the stuff you're unsure about, then incorporate what you've learned into your art style until it looks a way you like. you will likely have to just grind it out sometimes, and often this grind will not feel particularly fun. but you can Dog Medication Salami Pocket yourself into it if you're drawing something you're sufficiently Deranged about. <- this is what diesel is always doing with those women (LOL)

also, Output. you do have to Be Making Stuff in order to finish stuff. for example for comic projects like adastra or failteacher au, if i can draw ~1 page a day, the update will be complete in no time. but i have to draw that 1 page every day to make it happen, even if i feel off or lack confidence about what i'm making. of course i'm not saying you shouldn't take breaks; you NEED to take breaks, set your goals to your own level, and listen to yourself (and don't get some kind of wrist problem like me please). but the point im trying to make is that if you can make yourself sit down and do it even though you're scared it'll turn out bad, (or, hell, even if this part of your project is Simply Boring), then you can do it anytime. this is important too. but you will probably still sometimes feel stuck if you try to work and grind all the time.

DIET: regularly, but especially when you're stuck in a rut, step away from your craft and enrich your diet. you have to play just as much as you have to work. for example, i am always ALWAYS reading comics. at any given time i probably have 1-4 (sometimes more) tabs open of different comics i am simultaneously reading!!!! i read webcomics, webtoons, manga, DC--any demographic or genre, i take random recs from people and just go read them. whatever medium you're in, you have to take in what other people are doing with it, you have to let them teach and inspire you. you have to branch out and look at genres and styles you usually don't. unwind and look at comics, at illustrations, at design, at animation, at video games. enjoy them as an audience, but look at them like an artist too. when you like something, pause and examine (as both an artist and audience) why you like it. (vice versa: if you don't like something, you can try to figure out why that is!) let other people's ideas and habits flow over you. you have to relax and enrich your mind, to refresh your creativity and motivation. this is crucial. when you come back, you'll feel refreshed and ready to go, and your big brain cauldron of tools + ideas + techniques will be all shiny and bubbling. it's just as important to experience art as it is to make it. i really can't stress that enough!!!!

i talk about comics specifically here because right now obviously i am making a lot of comics (adastra, failteachers). i often feel like i get stuck in boring page layouts and can't think of how to panel something. and honestly sometimes a basic layout that just Gets Through The Scene is simply sufficient (after all, not everything has to be a Groundbreaking New Masterpiece; we would all get fatigued by that!)--or otherwise a "boring layout" is just what i have to put down in order to put down anything at all. but in both cases, reading comics and taking in what people are doing with their layouts makes me feel refreshed and i can return to my own work all rested and bright-eyed. everything we read and watch and take in is added to our "mental library" for the brain to reference when it's time to create something. it is just as enriching and important to experience someone else's art and perspective, and to enjoy a diverse range of impressions. you are always learning and observing, so try to pay attention--it's feeding your brain... :j

(and now, hopefully, your enriched Diet has added fertilizer for your Derangement, and the entire council can take their turn again from the top of the order. HDFHBJFS)

hmm...

well, overall, like i said at the top, there's no One Solution or really Single Piece Of Advice i can offer you. but i hope maybe you got something out of it anyway. everyone's a bit different and everyone's ideal workflow and journey is different too. but don't give up, keep at it, and...GOOD LUCK!!! 🫡🫡🫡

& always remember: in the end, making something YOU like, that looks good to YOU and fulfills YOUR goals, is more important than making something "perfect" (if such a thing even exists). as long as YOU'RE enjoying making your art (yes, even when making the art is hell and sucks!), that's all that matters. 🤝

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antoinettevanessa-blog · 14 hours

Text

Fortified Wager ♧♧♧ 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 2

♦︎♦︎ Aventurine x Reader ♦︎♦︎ 𝕀𝕝𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕

🄱🄰🄲🄺 🅃🄾 【ＣＨＡＰＴＥＲ　Ｉ】

╔══ ≪ ♦♦♦ ≫ ══╗

The next time you woke up, you found yourself tucked comfortably in the bottom bunk bed of a familiar-looking room. There were no flashing, colorful lights anywhere, only the gentle, peaceful morning sunlight.

...And a brutal, head-splitting headache.

As if your bed had transformed into a speeding bus that braked just as you were about to get up, you fell down once again. You clutched your throbbing forehead, it took all your strength just to look up.

Your dull ceiling had somehow turned into a mesmerizing dance of shifting shapes, creating ever-changing patterns as the ‘gentle’ morning light threatened to singe your eyes.

You had done it.

Amidst the series of transforming shapes, you caught sight of a certain silhouette. You needed a few solid seconds to finally recognize her as the girl who had shared a room with you for more than a year.

The same girl also accompanied you to the nightclub last night.

Despite how blurry your vision was, you could somehow tell that she wasn’t smiling.

Your vision cleared up a bit more, allowing you to register the fact that your roommate was towering over you with her arms folded, looking pissed as hell.

You had done it, alright.

“...Morning?”

You said, mustering an awkward smile.

“—You idiot!”

All of the sudden, she pulled you into a hug. Her voice was shaking, and so were the arms that enveloped you.

Did something happen last night?

“W-what happened?”

“You still dare to ask!?”

You suddenly got yelled at by your roommate.

No matter how hard you tried, your mind only returned blank. You remembered downing your alcoholic drink as fast as you could so you could leave the place but—or, unless...

You began to connect the dots.

“...Did something happen when I was drunk?”

“No! Thank God no! Which is a relief... Something could’ve happened to you!”

Your roommate became hysterical for some reason. Yet, no amount of questioning would warrant you a real answer from her. That was no way to react to someone who had just gotten drunk at the end of the weekend.

Nevertheless, when you saw her shoulders shaking as she quietly sobbed, you couldn’t find it in you to dismiss her as being overreacting.

Something indeed happened, and your roommate was reduced to a teary mess as a result.

Let’s leave it at that.

If it was THAT serious, the news would probably reach you sooner or later.

For the time being...

You reached for your roommate’s back, hugging her back.

“Sorry for making you worry. I, uh... won’t get drunk again?”

“You better be—!”

Afterwards, your roommate cooked you a tasty hangover soup, which worked like magic. You ate it as she gave you a whole sermon about how you should curb your drinking.

“Never drink alcohol again! Not even a single drop! Let this be a life lesson and don’t forget it for the rest of your life!”

Why was your roommate treating you like some kind of a raging alcoholic? Last time you checked, last night was your first time drinking.

You had almost suspected that she was on some kind of anti-alcohol campaign or religious pursuit.

“Seriously, what happened...?”

She still wouldn’t reply. Your roommate seemed panicked... no, terrified, as if she wanted to get rid of the incident from her mind as soon as possible, and it pained you to see her like that.

In the end, you decided against asking her, and just like that, days and then weeks passed.

You attended your lectures, did your assignments, studied for tests, hung out with your friends, played some online games, worked part-times—pretty much the usual stuff.

Life had almost fully returned to normal.

At a later date, you tried asking your roommate again about the incident at the nightclub, and she finally fessed up.

“Because of you, I almost died from second-hand embarrassment. I still dream about it to this day!”

Ouch.

Okay, that did hurt.

Gee, thanks, Nancy.

Oh well, you vowed to never go back to that nightclub, so it wouldn’t happen again.

🂡 🂠 🂣 🂠

A week later, you were back again.

Just like before, as you entered, the pulsating beat of the music enveloped you, blending seamlessly with the dim, sophisticated lighting that cast an alluring glow across the space. The interior was adorned with sleek, modern furnishings, plush seating areas, and elegant decor that added to the upscale ambiance.

However, unlike before, the dance floor, illuminated by dazzling light displays that synchronized with the rhythm of the music, was mostly neglected. Even the volume of the music was lower.

Instead, most of the patrons that Friday night flocked around the bar section.

Yes, your exact location the night of the supposed incident, for the exact same reason.

Two gentlemen sat across each other in a game of poker.

The sleek chair was gone, replaced by a premium glossy red sofa. They were now using a poker table surrounded by red rope barriers, preventing anyone from coming close.

That little corner had completely transformed into an exclusive gambling spot for a certain gambler who gained massive popularity overnight.

Indeed, in just a week, Aventurine was no longer the talk of the whole nightclub, but the whole town.

Not even in your wildest dreams would you have expected the news about a certain good-looking gambler to knock on your door one day. Or to be precise, the door of the place where you worked part-time.

After all, you worked at a fairly remote restaurant, and the old couple weren’t that updated on the latest news. And yet, the news about him still reached you.

About how a certain unbeatable gambler had been on a consecutive win streak for 7 days in a row.

At first, everyone thought, ‘He has to be cheating, right?’ And the high-end nightclub, Primavera, was no exception. However, to this day, no evidence to substantiate such a claim had been found.

Through sheer luck(?), Aventurine raked massive fortune and multiplied it by the hour as more and more challengers came forward, attempting to bring an end to his win streak. So far, none of them have had any luck.

The last time you saw something multiply this fast, it was in the Bible with five loaves of bread and two fish.

That Aventurine guy had too much power.

As such, it was no wonder even the hosting nightclub, Primavera, got worried. There was no saying he wasn’t going to win the whole place, gamble, and multiply it into three more nightclubs.

So, new ground rules were established.

The dealer who was bribed by that loser Duane was fired on the spot, as was the next one, the one after that, and so many more. Knowledge of various casino games, cash handling experiences, and communication skills were no longer enough. They also had to be unbending in the face of irresistible temptation (bribery), unyielding in the face of absolute power (bigshots who threatened to fire their ass and raze the entire place to the ground), powerful (in case things got physical)—and above all, the courage to do the right thing (prevent that lucky bastard from bagging the entire nightclub’s earning). That, along with passing other tests, including but not limited to psychology and IQ tests.

Nowadays, to be a dealer at Primavera, you needed more qualifications than your country’s doctor.

They also imposed a limit on the amount of money you could deposit in a day. Yes, on your deposit, when other casinos were scrambling to do the opposite. If they couldn’t stop Aventurine from winning, they could at least reduce his winning.

Sounds like a lot of efforts just to rain on a single guy’s parade. Why didn’t they just outright ban him, you ask? After your last visit, you searched his company name, ‘IPC’, in Gagle, and found out they launched a nuclear attack that decimated an entire planet a few years back. So yeah.

...During your browsing session, you also learned of the true meaning behind the word Avgin.

That was how you knew that despite fearing the IPC, the nightclub may not necessarily feel the same towards Aventurine, hence the not-so-subtle retaliations.

“...Answer truthfully, where did you hide it?”

A gruff and throaty voice of a chain-smoker broke your reverie.

“What could you possibly mean?”

In response, a gleeful and innocent voice asked.

“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m referring to!”

“I don’t. Have we or have we not drunk the wine laced with truth serum so we couldn’t cheat each other?”

The exchange, reminiscent of a detective questioning his latest suspect, did not in fact take place in an interrogation room, but at the poker table in front of you.

Aventurine’s opponent, a delinquent-looking, muscular guy wearing a black leather jacket, slammed his fist against the table.

Also, yeah, both gamblers were required to drink truth serum before each game as part of the new rules. As expected of a mixologist at a premium nightclub, the flavor of wine and the serum blended seamlessly with each other; it was impossible to tell the difference.

“Then what are those cards—!? You were on the verge of losing—!! Where did that Full House come from—!?”

“That, my friend, is the unpredictability of luck.”

“Shut up! You hid those cards somewhere!”

“Didn’t they go through our inventory with x-ray scanner earlier?”

Ah yes, the scanning routine, also part of the rules.

“Gggrrrgh—!”

The delinquent guy hung his head, gritting his teeth, but no amount of denials could change the reality in front of him.

Meanwhile, Aventurine was lazily checking his watch, lightly tapping his foot on the floor, waiting for the reality to sink in. Occasionally, throughout the game, he would glance over those around him. Whenever he was about to look in your direction, you would rush to hide and blend in amongst the crowds.

Anything, anything but being recognized as that drunkard who screamed at the top of her lungs that day.

In terms of trying to escape from reality, you and Aventurine’s opponent were on the same boat.

...At last, the guy who was his opponent came to terms with it.

“...I lose.”

As he admitted defeat, his shoulders sank. The guy, who looked like a member of a biker gang, seemed to have shrunk. The pile of chips on his side of the table was immediately transferred over to Aventurine’s side.

That night marked Aventurine’s eighth consecutive day of winning.

The nightclub and the guy who got defeated definitely weren’t too happy about it, but the same couldn’t be said about you and the crowds that flocked around his table.

Some were cheering loudly, some were clapping excitedly—genuinely, this time, and you found yourself smiling.

With his top hat in his hand, Aventurine elegantly uncrossed his legs and stood up, eloquently flapping his yellow scarf to the side. Stream of golden lights poured on him, highlighting his handsome features and lean contour—

—and above all, his smile.

His charmingly wicked grin.

The pile of chips on their tables suggested that his winnings were no small amount, so his opponent must’ve suffered a devastating loss. In fact, that guy was still clutching his head at the table as of the present.

Anyone with a heart would feel a tinge of sympathy for that guy, but on the blond gambler’s face, there was absolute joy. There was neither the guilt of bleeding someone dry nor the relief of not being the one bled dry, only pure happiness from having risked it all for one thing and won.

Right on cue, the flashing lights turned red, as if the entire world was burning.

You swear that for a moment, your eyes met.

At that moment, his lips stretched wide in a maniacal grin, while his eyes gleamed with a disturbing and feverish light.

You saw his lips move, forming a sentence.

‘F, O, U, N, D, Y, O, U.’

—Then, the lights turned blue, but your heart was still hammering in your chest.

...What was that about?

When you stared at him again, Aventurine was smiling at the crowd, so you were probably mistaken. Apparently, he had an announcement to make.

“—Thank you for the enormous support, everyone. I truly appreciate it. In fact, as you may know, I’ve been on a winning streak these days, so I thought of giving back to my community.”

He spoke clearly, his tone so friendly as if he met every single person in the room on a daily basis.

He probably does, considering he has been gambling here for a full week.

Everyone waited with bated breath.

“Order anything you want, the tab’s on me. And of course, don’t worry about refills and whatnot. Tonight, everyone shall dine like kings!”

The entire room burst into applause and cheers, with the staff of the nightclub being the loudest among them.

🄾🄽🅆🄰🅁🄳 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ３】

𝕋𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥

#aventurine fanart #honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #aventurine honkai star rail #fanfic #fanart #hsr fanart #hsr x reader #star rail aventurine #aventurine hsr #fortifiedwagerfic

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