#cyan rug

[aspoonfulofwitchcraft]

Transitional Home Bar Jacksonville

Example of a mid-sized transitional single-wall medium tone wood floor wet bar design with flat-panel cabinets, dark wood cabinets and marble countertops

[lucianaurtiga]

Single Wall Home Bar An illustration of a mid-sized transitional single-wall wet bar design with dark wood cabinets, flat-panel cabinets, and marble countertops.

[edwardkinsellaillustration]

Single Wall Home Bar An illustration of a mid-sized transitional single-wall wet bar design with dark wood cabinets, flat-panel cabinets, and marble countertops.

[turquoise-cyan]

[comatosebunny09]

cotton candy clouds | sylus

summary: you guilt-trip sylus into taking you to the carnival. you get caught up in more than just the festivities, hidden feelings finally coming to light. genres: romance, fluff, minor angst warnings: kissing, unrequited (not really) feelings, tender touches, pet names, incredibly self indulgent, profanity, cheesy af, fuck fate notes: limerence au, but a little less pain. now playing: siren guitar - carlos carty

Well, it seemed like a good idea. 

Until it wasn’t. 

You see, the boardwalk wasn’t too far of a walk from your bungalow. You saw the Ferris Wheel gleaming in the near distance from the passenger window of Sylus’ rental. Caught sight of it on the ride back after spending the morning with him.

The carnival beckoned to you. Taking you was the least Sylus could do after torturing you with restricting dresses and uncomfortable heels all weekend. And he could sweeten the deal by winning you a plushie and stuffing you full of cotton candy. 

Sylus relented with a chuckle, pulling the car into the carport. Good on you for suggesting you travel on foot to the boardwalk after you dropped your bags at the house. He looked like he wanted to contest you, gaze turned skyward like he knew something was amiss. Instead, he shrugged and settled his dark shades onto his face, following your lead. 

The carnival was lively. 

It smelled of funnel cake, smoked turkey legs, and lubed machinery. People milled about, their glee staining the stratosphere. Carnies coerced you into trying for prizes. You had an armful of colorful plushies with a grin to match by mid-afternoon, courtesy of your boss and his impeccable aim. 

If you hadn't known any better, you swore you were on a date. But you knew that could never be, given the state of your relationship and your position in Sylus’ life. 

You were halfway through a candied apple when Mother Nature decided, ah, that’s enough fun. 

The sky, once a bright cyan with a golden sun pinned to its center, gave way to ominous, dark gray clouds. Thunder followed, and eventually, the nimbus clouds opened up to pelt the boardwalk below with its glacial downpour.

You scattered along with the other carnival goers, Sylus in tow, the spoils of your endeavor forgotten. On the race back to the bungalow, he grabbed your hand, and you laughed like two carefree adolescents as he tugged you across the sand to your temporary lodging. 

You were breathless when you reached the porch, shoving into the warm sanctity of the entryway with a “Hurry, hurry!”

It was quiet inside. 

The light pouring in through the sliding doors and windows illuminated the stilled space. Your teeth chattered as Sylus helped divest you of your clothes in the living room. Such a gentleman, his gaze never dipping past your collarbones as he tore his sweater from his shoulders. He left you briefly, taking his warmth with him to light a fire beneath the mantle. 

Clad only in your undergarments, you pawed at him, giggling amid your shivering when he came back to drape you in an oversized throw. 

He led you to the high-pile rug in front of the fire. Sat down cross-legged, drawing you into his lap. He shrouded the pair of you in the throw blanket, his arms encasing your middle, hands smoothing over your arms to ward off the cold.

For a while, you sat like that, watching the fire kindle. Chuckling, panting, and existing in the moment until your shared quivering abated, and only the rhythm of your even breaths, the crackling fire logs, and distant waves crashing against the shore colored the air. 

Even now, you sit like this, still housed in Sylus’ lap and arms, his chin notched in the hollow of your shoulder. He absently rocks your body side to side, his occasional pleased hum vibrating your spine.

You’re no longer a sopping, chattering mess. You’re much warmer than before, Sylus’ proximity causing your cheeks to prickle with heat. You don’t want to disrupt the mood that’s descended onto your shoulders. Ignore the complicated thoughts and feelings that burble to the surface, threatening to bare themselves in the face of your peace. 

He feels too good. Smells even better, the scent of his cologne easing the tension from your shoulders. And a glance at him in your periphery reveals his lashes fluttering, eyes closed in what you assume is contentedness. You study him for a beat or two, ingesting the peachy tone stippling his cheek and the pretty curl of his lips. He looks so boyish and unguarded this way, his hair falling into his face, and you find yourself wanting to see this side of him more often.

“You look like you want to say something,” he teases through a smile, thumb cruising over the skin of your belly.

You shake your head no, eyes wide like you’ve been caught rifling through the cookie jar. 

His hold on you stiffens the slightest. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” He moves to pull away, but you quickly ensnare his wrists with your hands, quietly imploring him to stay. He acquiesces, holding to you a little tighter. Nuzzles a little more affectionately, inhaling deep the warm aroma of your skin.

“What’s on your mind,” he queries on an exhale, tenderness lancing through his question. He almost sounds like he’s afraid to scare you off. Afraid to let you go, swept up in the spell of the moment and the sensation of your body against his.

Your lips pull into a rigid, thoughtful line. Your pulse thrums in your ears, and you rub cautious thumbs over the veins pulsing in Sylus’ hands as you study the geometric patterns of the rug. Sighing, you figure it’s best to broach the subject now rather than let it fester.

“Is this alright?” you timidly ask. Uncharacteristic of you, but in light of everything that’s transpired since he whisked you away on this impromptu vacation, you’ve become even more confused and unsure of yourself.

Sylus shifts, drawing back until you feel his eyes on the side of your face. In the corner of your vision, he cants his head quizzically, lips parting.

“What do you mean?”

The angle is awkward, your neck straining. But you turn as best you can to look at him, and the puzzled pinch of his brows makes your chest tighten. 

“I mean, us being this…close. Is it really okay?” Your question hangs in the air like the pop and fizz of the fire. You watch his Adam’s Apple bob whilst he swallows, and he scrutinizes you, the cogs in his mind slowly turning. 

“Is this a problem? Because if I’m making you uncomfortable, sweetheart—”

“Sylus, that’s…that’s not what I mean.”

He watches your lips tremble. Expression still reads like he has no idea what you’re on about. He strokes up your arm, encouraging you to elaborate. With another weighted sigh pushing through your nostrils, you relent.

“I mean, like…what the hell are we doing here?” Try as you like to mask your frustration, bits and pieces of it leak into your words. You clench your fists in your lap, brows furrowing as your eyes burn and glaze over with the threat of tears. “Why did you bring me here? The last few days have been so… wonderful and confusing, and I—I just wanna know where I stand with you.”

The past weekend with your boss has played out like a dream. 

It began when Sylus snatched you away from the arctic darkness of the N109 Zone in favor of something brighter, more low-key. Wanted you to take a load off after employing you for so long. To show his appreciation for you laying your life on the line for him each day.

He bought you gifts at every turn. Said things that thoroughly derailed your perception of him. Touched you in ways that, although weren’t sexual in nature, lit a fire within you and gave you an inkling of hope. Hope that he cared for you as much as you pined for him despite his history with the Hunter. 

You knew it wasn’t right to covet him like that. But you couldn’t help yourself, and how he’d been behaving since you arrived on the island only worsened matters. He treated you like a lover more than his subordinate, and you needed—no, deserved—an explanation for the sudden shift in tone. 

“I thought it was obvious,” he half-chuckles, shaking his head whilst pinching the bridge of his nose. 

As if you’re the problem here.

You make a sound. Maneuver yourself in his lap to get a better look at him, fixing him with a perturbed look. Explain, demands the quirk of your brows. 

“Well, it’s been brought to my attention that maybe I haven’t been completely clear with my intentions.” 

Sylus shifts you around in his lap until you’re straddling him, your legs framing his hips, wrists instinctively crossing behind his neck. He drapes his arms about your waist, a wide, possessive hand at the small of your back to hold you in place. He peers at you with all the softness of the world, and from your vantage point, you make out the amber flecks nestled between the crimson wash of his irises.

He tilts his head, quietly studying you. Turning over the right words in his mind. “I care about you.” His voice is low and abrasive, but the crackle of it sparks in your chest like steel dragged across a flint stone. 

Your breath hitches, and you watch him with widened eyes and parted lips.

“I care about you. Maybe more than I should. Perhaps more than I deserve to, but I do. And you mean more to me than mere words can illustrate.”

Great. Now you feel absolutely horrible amid the butterflies piling in your stomach. “Sylus—”

He chuckles sardonically, glancing off to the side. “I thought that by bringing you here, I could make it inherently clear how I feel about you. No distractions. No outside forces. Nothing standing between us.”

Unconsciously, you gather his cheeks into your hands. Lure his gaze back to yours, and the look in his eyes makes your stomach somersault. You’ve never seen him so wounded. Like he fears your rejection, yet he’s determined to set the record straight.

Sylus’ voice steeps a few octaves when he closes in, his warm breath fanning over your lashes. You feel dizzy like you would collapse if not for his virile arms keeping you fastened to him. 

“Fate be damned,” he whispers. Molds his hand to the nape of your neck, fingers easing up into the delicate hair that resides there, and you shiver when his gaze slacks to your lips. “You were an oversight—a pleasant oversight. A detour in my plans that I didn’t anticipate. A detour I don’t regret taking.”

His lips graze yours, and you’re panting as pleasant tingles ricochet up your spine.

“You occupy all of my thoughts.” Sigh. “You ruin me,” he husks, sealing your chest to his. “I don’t want anyone else but you. And I know your mind has more than likely convinced you otherwise. But I’m here to say that I truly…” He draws back to kiss the tip of your nose. “Honestly…” Brands the corner of your mouth with the languid drag of his lips. “—pine for no one else. You’re the only person I want in this lifetime.”

“Sylus,” you halfway sob in the slither of space between your mouths, every nerve in your body trained to the feel of him.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You swallow thickly, your mouth dry, your mind fogging over. “You gonna keep waxing poetic, or are you gonna kiss me?”

He snorts out a laugh at your impatience, cupping your jaw with a tender, sweltering hand. “There is nothing I would like more,” he breathes, luring you closer for a taste of your lips. 

[maidflowery]

Fortified Wager ♣♣♣ 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 7

♦︎♦︎ Aventurine x Reader ♦︎♦︎ 𝕀𝕝𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕

🄱🄰🄲🄺 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ６】

𝕋𝕒𝕓𝕝���� 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥

Violet-Cyan Cadenza

POV: Aventurine

╔══ ⬥⬦⟣⟐⟢⬦⬥ ══╗

“If you know what’s best for you, you’ll forfeit this game!”

“But why? Didn't you say you'd show me the ropes? Is this all you've got? Just when things were starting to get fun...”

Aventurine had a lot on his mind that day.

“—You damned Avgin! Let's see if you can still smile when I charge you with scamming the IPC and have you shot on the spot!”

So, even when his own secretary, Duane, cursed him to death—proving that the invitation to this get-together party with colleagues was just a sham—he remained pensive, saying whatever came to mind.

By that time, Aventurine had learned the extent of his underlings' insubordination. Most of them were long-time employees who had been vying for his position. And yes, he had memorized all their faces.

He’d only been promoted to a senior manager of the Strategic Investment Department recently, so they must’ve seen it as an opportunity. They probably saw him as a pompous brat, ignorant of the ways of the world and surviving solely through luck. Although, the part where he happily signed the legal contract that’d give his position to Duane if he lost was entirely on him.

However, it turned out that Aventurine’d severely underestimated that secretary of his.

Not only was Duane punctual, dedicated and meticulous, he was also detail-oriented and thorough. If only he had applied those traits to his actual job, he might have solved world hunger by now! What a damn shame!

Instead, Duane scheduled the execution date two weeks in advance, brought his own audience, reserved a seat in a secluded spot, paid the dealer, and even prepared his own decks!

Aventurine wouldn’t be surprised if the walls surrounding them were to collapse at any moment, revealing the nightclub itself to be cardboard boxes exclusively designed by Duane as part of his scheme!

...What a bunch of dunces.

Did they not realize that this position had been granted to him by Diamond himself? Trying to usurp it was essentially the same as opposing the Ten Stonehearts. Regardless of how this game played out, he would still be the ultimate victor.

“There’s no harm in giving up, you know.”

“Sometimes you just have to accept defeat.”

However, looking at the current situation, he was most likely going to lose. In this match, anyway. The cards he was dealt stank worse than roadkill.

His luck merely improved a once measly chance drastically; it couldn’t multiply something that had a 0% chance of happening.

As he stared at his cards, Duane and his lackeys grinned from ear to ear—a stark contrast to when they first introduced themselves.

“You’re our new senior manager, aren’t you? My name is Duane Stoyanova! I’ll be your secretary from today onward. If there’s anything you don’t understand, just ask me! I’ll show you the ropes!”

“Mr. Aventurine, how are you holding up? They just threw you right into the middle of things, so it must be rough!"

“Seeing that you've been working hard lately, we thought of arranging party for you, Mr. Aventurine!"

...Eh, not that he cared all that much, honestly. He'd even throw the game just to give them the fleeting satisfaction of victory.

What's sweeter than letting the enemy believe they've won, only to pull the rug out from under their feet?

But then...

“—SHOW THEM!! SHOW THEM WHAT YOU GOT!! DON’T LOSE!!”

An ardent, tenacious scream pierced through the false encouragement, sarcastic compliments, provoking taunts, and mocking ridicules—reaching all the way to him.

Aventurine instinctively turned around, spotting a girl amidst the crowd beside him.

After screaming that at the top of her lungs, a crimson hue spread rapidly across her face, reaching even her ears. Then, she ran away while holding her vibrant-colored drink.

‘Aww, how cute, she thinks I’m going to lose,’ was his initial thought.

If only she knew he was blessed with extreme luck by the goddess of his clan.

Then again, if she did, would she cheer on him so wholeheartedly?

Aventurine adjusted his posture, sitting upright, resting his leg on top of the other.

“W-what’s with him?”

One of Duane’s lackeys pointed out, noticing his shift in attitude.

“What are you trying to do now...?” Duane asked warily.

Oh, so NOW you are scared?

No, Duane probably was the whole time. Otherwise, why would he go to such lengths to ensure his opponent had zero chance of making a comeback?

At the same time, this was probably Duane’s only real shot at becoming a senior manager, knowing that Aventurine would never turn down this kind of challenge.

As an aficionado of games of chance, Aventurine truly admired his spirit.

Unfortunately, your biggest mistake is insisting that there’s no outcome possible other than your victory.

The possibility of winning or losing always existed, no matter what, because such was the nature of uncertainty. Wouldn’t it be the job of a superior to teach that to their dear subordinates?

Thus, Aventurine shrugged and replied blithely, “You heard her. I can’t afford to lose after that?”

“Huh?! I-it’s useless... Even if you try—...” Duane was turning paler.

“Yeah, but I feel like winning today.”

Knowing that he’d never lose, Aventurine seldom played seriously.

But that day, he gave it his all, fully intending to win.

✦✦⟡✦✦

Ever since then, Aventurine always wondered how his first proper meeting with you would unfold.

That was, if it ever happened at all, with fate interfering with every single one of his attempts. Which sounded dramatic, as if the whole world was going against him. When in reality, he stopped after the third try.

The first time was at the bar right after defeating Duane. Too bad, his co-workers got in the way somewhat.

The second was a week later, when he treated everyone to free meals. But when he looked for you, you were nowhere to be found.

The third was when he realized you acted as if the first never happened and deliberately avoided him during the second.

By that point, it had become clear that you were avoiding him.

Makes sense, he thought. About half a month had passed since then—enough time for you to figure out who you cheered for that night: an Avgin and a former slave, to boot. Wherever he went, his reputation always presided him.

Hence, he thought—it can’t be helped.

Then, he stopped thinking about you altogether.

⟡⟡✦⟡⟡

Yet, without fail, you showed up every week. You watched him play all night long, seemingly having come to terms with simply gazing at him from afar.

Understandable, really.

Aside from those who openly denounced him, treating him like a stain on earth, even noble bloods and big shots sometimes didn’t know what to do with him and chose to avoid him altogether. “Too much of a wild card,” they said. Let alone you, an ordinary person.

Of course, some were simply fascinated by what they saw and chose to observe from a safe distance, turning a blind eye to everything else. That seemed to be the case with most inhabitants of this town. And to be frank, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The only reason he remained there, despite having conquered Penacony, was due to an unfinished business. Namely, Duane’s fuckups. After that man got demoted, the responsibility fell into his lap. So, who was the real victor here? It even made him doubt his luck for a second.

Either way, once his business in this rural town was concluded—preferably as soon as possible—he’d be gone with the wind.

Still, watching you sit on the edge of your seat all night, cheering him on—seeing you become the happiest person in the room when he won, jumping around...

...Alright, maybe he’d visit from time to time. His role as the popular gambler in town was starting to grow on him. So why not turn this place into a recreational spot for those occasional breaks from work?

A town where no one knew of the little slave worth sixty red copper coins.

A place where he could be someone other than the bearer of Aventurine of Stratagems, one of the Ten Stonehearts.

The undefeated gambler of the rural town, surrounded by his own audience, including you.

For a short time, he entertained such an idea.

But unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

✦✦⟡✦✦

His side project was finally yielding results. However, progress was slow and didn't reflect the blood, sweat, and tears he had invested.

Duane, oh, Duane. How can you still give me a massive headache when you’re on a planet seven light-years away?

“—You! That custom-made suit is way more expensive than mine! What’s an Avgin like you doing in something like that?!”

Standing in front of him was Billy Burnett, the local loan shark and one of his targets. The flashy, rotund man with a bald head had walked into the trap himself. Of course, at the moment, he didn’t realize it yet.

...And, as expected of Duane’s cohorts, Billy was quite vocal about his aversion toward Aventurine’s kin.

“Mr. Billy, isn’t it? I appreciate your eagerness in challenging me to a match—”

“—Cut the crap! I heard that you’ve been treating Duane real nice! I’m here to settle the score—wait... Is that... the legendary Cygnus Emerald?!”

Billy’s nostrils flared as his beady eyes were transfixed on the gem on Aventurine’s chest. As he spoke, his breathing was getting rougher and rougher.

“My eyes are up here. And yes, it is the Cygnus Emerald.” Aventurine gave him a smile.

Aventurine had noted that Billy had an eye for quality. They were similar in that they were both attracted to and appreciated nice things. Personally, there was just something irresistible about the luster of certain jewels, and he couldn’t help but get his hands on them.

They could never be friends, though. Aventurine wouldn’t stoop to prying a jewel from a dying man’s hand or ruining an entire family like the man before him. And, unlike Duane, he had no interest in funding an old man’s lifestyle.

Billy likely didn’t want to either, especially since Aventurine had cut off one of his main sources of income. Besides offering high-interest, predatory loans and refinancing debts—you know, the usual—Billy could also be paid to harass a specific individual or a family.

“I-I challenge you! If I win, that emerald is mine!” Billy was a slobbering mess as he proposed this.

Should you really be making it THIS easy for me?

Now, Billy seemed genuinely eager to challenge him to a match instead of just beating him to a bloody mess. Originally, he’d planned to entice the old man with unimaginable wealth, anyway.

Then, violet-cyan eyes narrowed as their owner grinned.

“Fine. I’ll consider it.”

“W-what?! What’s that supposed to mean?!" Billy looked absolutely dumbfounded.

“It means exactly that. I have a long line of opponents waiting to challenge me. So, see you next month, or maybe next year.”

“But what about my emerald?!”

“Let’s hope it’s still available next time.”

Seeing Billy gnashing his teeth and clenching his fist, Aventurine’s smirk deepened.

Baring your desire to an enemy like that...

“How much do you want?! I’ll pay you, so face me!”

Then, came such a cliché line. One might be tempted to ask, ‘doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of gambling?’

Well, it was because bad people weren’t necessarily stupid.

Even with all the wealth Billy had accumulated, including the one he gained from exploiting the massive policy change in this rural town, it still wouldn't be enough to afford the Cygnus Emerald. Billy must’ve known this was his one real chance to claim it.

...This single-minded desperation—didn't it remind him of someone he knew all too well? Although this one was blinded by greed.

“Oh, I don’t need your money. But I do need something else from you. Think of it as an entrance fee, if you like.”

“What is it?! Out with it!!”

“Tell me everything you know about Duane Stoyanova’s involvement in Project LAZU-R17: E from a few years back.”

“Deal!”

The greedy pig didn’t even miss a beat. He threw Duane under the bus while painting himself as a saint. Of course, Aventurine recorded the whole thing.

Well, there you go, Duane.

Undoubtedly, Duane told Billy of Aventurine’s most recent treatment of him, hoping the latter would avenge him.

This is why you don’t invest in an overly greedy piece.

“Alright, then. I challenge you to a game of poker.”

Even though Aventurine had gotten what he came for, he still fulfilled his end of the bargain, purely for formality's sake.

What followed was the most mind-numbing, soul-crushing, life-draining, and joy-sapping poker match known to man.

Billy had his lackeys prepare a substantial amount of money before wagering a measly sum every round, hoping to cheat the Goddess of Fortune and win the emerald through sheer luck and nearly infinite attempts.

Does he think I’m a toy vending machine that will drop the ultimate prize once he pulls enough?

Aventurine wondered how much more he could endure. Several times, he had been tempted to hand Billy a death sentence on the spot instead of having him arrested and tried later.

...Right, he’d be a dead man after this. Just a bit more.

Those words were his only salvation amidst the crushing boredom.

He also cheered himself up. With Billy Burnett gone, the leverage on victims of the incident from a few years back would disappear. Things should be slightly easier after this.

Essentially, he was controlling an existing fire, preventing it from spreading and going out of control—an especially tall order when all sides were out for their own. Not that he could blame them; he was only doing this to avoid catching fire himself. Once again, courtesy of Duane for making this his problem!

Now, all he had to do was preserve the thin, delicate wick while gradually snuffing out the fire until it was completely extinguished.

So far, everything was going smoothly, exactly as he had predicted.

But then, a third person showed up at their table.

⟡⟡✦⟡⟡

“Good evening, esteemed guests. We've noticed how long you've been with us, and as you mentioned, the night is getting dull! So, I was sent to hopefully stave off some of your boredom! It’s a pleasure to serve you tonight!”

Did you finally muster up the courage to talk to me? Even going as far as to pretend to be a waiter?

For a brief moment, Aventurine entertained the thought. After all, it was simply too amusing.

He’d known all along—the yearning looks you’d been sending his way all night couldn’t have been more obvious. He was merely ignoring them.

Also, yes, “pretend to be a waiter.”

Aventurine had set Primavera as a neutral ground for this ongoing side project. So, naturally, he’d memorized all the staff and you clearly weren’t among them. At the same time, he knew how tight-lipped and secretive the staff were. It was highly unlikely they would simply hand over their signature uniform for you to cosplay in.

What is happening here?

Aventurine swiftly racked his brain, trying to figure out the situation.

After a grueling battle that lasted over a month, he’d like to think that he’d somewhat won over the reserved staff members. Well, calling it a “ceasefire” would probably be more appropriate. Regardless, the staff members must’ve understood the significance of this meeting, as they could be considered victims themselves.

If an additional cast were to join the meeting, the staff should have notified him beforehand...

...Unless there was a breach of trust somewhere.

His multicolored eyes scanned the lively crowd dancing at the venue before stopping at a specific spot.

A dapper youth with dark blue hair stood near the DJ set, exuding solemn dignity. He was none other than the manager of this place, Marius. The stoic and highly-cynical youth was the reason why Aventurine had to put up with that tedious battle that lasted over a month in the first place.

Did Marius deem him untrustworthy in the end, preferring to aid the enemy instead?

Yet, Aventurine noticed that the dark-haired youth was staring at his table with an uncharacteristically tense expression. Did Marius not expect this as well?

Aventurine also knew that Primavera had many branches across the world. After the stunt he had pulled, it wouldn’t be surprising if the parent company sent someone to this rural town to monitor the situation. Given that the CEO of Primavera had been pestering him more frequently lately, the possibility was quite high. If that were the case, not even Marius, who was merely a manager, would have any say in this.

It would also explain why you kept an eye on him, even after he switched to a weekly schedule—or your newfound courage and surprising charisma, along with your magic talent.

When all these coincidences overlapped, they pointed to one answer—one plausible explanation.

“This one is dedicated to you, Mr. Big Ba—ahem, Mr. Billy Burnett. We always appreciate how sharply-dressed you are. So fiery, you stand out wherever you are.”

“Hoho! Astute judgment! Did you know? This shirt alone cost more than all the wages of the staff here combined!”

“—I can only think of one flower to symbolize you. Would you like to guess what is it?”

“Ahaha! I don’t care about some grasses, so you tell me!”

“Of course, Sir! It’s right within my hand! ...Oh, no.”

“Huh—?! Where did they go—?! Are you trying to make a fool of me—?!”

“Of course not, Sir! The flower is just shying away because of the man you are!”

As he watched you perform your magic show, displaying your expertise and deftness, he grew more convinced of it.

Honestly, if that were the extent of it, he would have turned a blind eye to the whole thing.

“How did it get there?! Especially when you never took out my wallet!”

But then you slipped a wallet and a phone into Billy Burnett’s pocket. Above all, they turned out to be that man’s belongings all along.

Now, Aventurine would understand if you held a grudge against Billy and decided to pickpocket him. But to return them? That single action gave rise to unending questions.

Were you Billy’s spy? Was this whole thing a sham? Did Billy purposely challenge him as a distraction while placing you elsewhere to gather information? Had you just returned from fulfilling your task? ...How much did you figure out?

The possibilities were endless, yet they all led to a single path: doom. In a war, the side with the most information won.

Your magic performance for Billy was coming to an end.

“That was so amazing! I like you! Your name is Ashpuddle, right?! Can we—”

“—What about me?”

To buy more time to decide how best to deal with you, Aventurine spoke.

“—Last but not least!”

“Oh?”

As expected, you came prepared and threw a little magic show for him.

“To your beautiful eyes, Aventurine.”

“...!”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the slightest bit thrilled, especially when you gave him the handcrafted bouquet.

Then, as the curtains truly dropped on your magic performance, Aventurine saw Billy leering at you, licking and smacking his lips. Was it out of perverted desire, or was Billy simply eager to reap the fruits of your labor?

He still couldn’t determine which was the truth.

Either way, if his suspicions were correct, once you and Billy stepped out of this place, it would be all over for everyone. God knows what the two of you had in store out there.

Knowing the chain of events he would set in motion if he let the enemy outmaneuver him, could he really afford to take that gamble?

In that case—

“—Leaving so soon?”

Aventurine reached for you, pulling you into his arms.

“Huh...?”

“It’s amazing, what you did with the phone and the wallet.”

He just had to keep his enemy closer.

✦✦⟡✦✦

Okay, maybe not this close—but Aventurine couldn’t help himself.

Seeing how nervous you were reminded him of a frightened rabbit being forced to sit on a human’s lap. While it was cute and all, he was more curious about the source of your fear. Given that you’d been literally captured by the enemy, it would make sense if you were afraid of him, but it seemed you were just as afraid of Billy.

“What’s this? Mr. Aventurine can’t keep his hands off her, too? I get it! Such an interesting woman she is!”

Without missing a beat, Billy butted in, thinking they were on the same boat. Aventurine could feel you stiffen in his arms.

“Yes, I’m quite taken by her.”

Various thoughts formed in his mind, but they were merely conjectures.

“Kehehe! Of course, of course... So, after you are done with her... Can I...?”

Living up to his name, the pig, who constantly indulged in debauchery despite having a family at home, made a display of his wanton desire.

“No.”

Then, seeing how flustered you were, Aventurine threw in a small trick question.

“...Or would you rather go to him instead?”

Everything would be much easier if you had caved and chosen to go to Billy. Once he knew whose side you were on, he’d have no qualms about crushing you both.

Hence, he hoped that you wouldn’t.

When you softly shook your head and clung to him, his lips curved into a smile.

“Good answer.”

Now, the only task remaining was to wring every bit of information out of this little spy.

⟡⟡✦⟡⟡

Saying he didn’t expect you to be a spy would be a lie. He’d even say he saw it coming.

Aventurine had considerable experience with women who were spies, as well as with those who turned out to be spies.

However, whether you were, say, an ace in your field, was another matter entirely.

Of course, the thought of seducing you to his side had crossed his mind. But then he realized he had his work cut out for him.

“Ms. Aschenputtel?”

The moment he called your alias, you turned around in a hurry, rushing to meet his gaze, only to falter a second later. Heat bloomed across your cheeks like fire.

Apparently, despite your false name, position, role, identity, and persona, your feelings for him were genuine.

“...W-w-what is, it?” you asked, stumbling over your words.

He struggled to contain his amusement. Then again, even this could be an act. So, he tried to test the water, but eventually stopped, for both your sake. He couldn’t exactly extract information from a fainted person, could he?

Aah, seriously... What kind of spies are they sending my way these days?

Surely, his huge achievement in reclaiming Penacony should raise his threat level quite a bit? He’d expected a spy who could easily double as an assassin, but sending someone who couldn’t keep a poker face and spilled her cards all over the table? Now, that was a unique approach.

Well, it was certainly innovative. One couldn’t spill information if they couldn’t speak properly—or were unconscious.

At the same time, it almost made him wish that you were his opponent instead. But rather than poker, he’d invite you to a game of rummy. He’d drag it out as long as possible, giving you the illusion that he was about to take the joker, only to switch at the last minute. Merely imagining the kind of expression you’d make tickled him.

Midway, Aventurine noticed you were nervously picking at your nails, to the point they were about to bleed. When he tried to put a stop to it, a small accident occurred.

Thus, you were right in front of him, dangerously close.

“I-I-I didn’t mean to...!”

Somehow, it was possible for you to turn redder than you already were.

“You didn’t mean to do what? Did you do something?”

“I—... no, it’s nothing.”

As you spoke, your lips shifted delicately before him.

When you tried to pull back, he moved forward, until only the slightest thread of reason stood between you.

He was aware of what he was doing, just as he knew he should be eliciting answers from these quivering lips, instead of sealing them with his playful banter—or his own.

“Haha! Don’t people usually apologize after they had done something?”

So instead, he leaned closer to your ear. Out of sight, out of mind.

“—So, Ms. Aschenputtel, do something to me first.”

Would he have preferred it if you had fallen for that?

✦✦⟡✦✦

Aventurine had always wondered how his first proper meeting with you would unfold.

And so far, everything was as he’d imagined. 

The bashful you were unable to stare directly into his eyes, yet would sneak glances from time to time.

When spoken to directly, you'd become so flustered and blush furiously, making it impossible for him to resist teasing you even more.

When he pretended to be contemplating his hand, you’d watch anxiously, and when he placed it on the table, you’d watch with bated breath.

When he offered to treat you to delicious desserts, your eyes lit up instantly as you agreed without hesitation, throwing all caution to the wind.

“Then, what kind of desserts do you like? Any foods you avoid due to allergies?"

“I’ll go with whatever Ms. Aschen likes. Allergies? Eh. Sure, I have that, I guess. But I can't remember what food I'm allergic to. It’s nothing to worry about.”

He really couldn’t remember.

Faintly, he recalled the deeply worried look on his sister’s face, but that was it.

In the past, there was a time when he almost went without food and had to drink from puddles in the street. So, he couldn’t care less about food allergies—neither then nor now.

He’d survive it all, anyway.

Besides, to trigger an allergic reaction, he’d have to eat the food first. Meanwhile, wherever he went, he rarely touched the food, unless it was absolutely necessary, usually to put on a show.

“Then, may I bring your attention to our mini fruit tarts? We always make the cream from scratch and use the freshest fruits!”

What he didn’t expect was for you to explain the menu to him so thoughtfully and considerately. Or maybe, knowing you, it was to be expected.

“—Ah, but you can consume dairy, right?”

“Yep, no problem at all. This one sounds good, we can order it.”

“Let’s avoid nuts because you might be allergic to it.”

“Fine with me.”

“As for this red velvet cheesecake—...”

Hearing your well-put explanation made him consider requesting that you serve his table every time he visited and explain the dishes.

At the same time, he grew convinced—so maybe, you were the waiter of Primavera after all.

In that case...

“We haven’t ordered drinks yet.”

Just as you were about to place your order, he lightheartedly suggested.

Then, you made a surprising offer.

“Then, shall I recommend you our specialty? Lazuli Bells!”

...Well, well.

“May I know why?”

Aventurine asked while studying your expression.

A coincidence? Or a code of some sort?

Of course, after the series of ‘coincidences’ you’d introduced to the table, he found the former to be the most unlikely.

“...Do you not like flowery concoctions? If so—”

“Nah. I’m more interested in the reason why you recommended it in the first place.”

“B-because it’s my favorite drink...”

You predictably shrank under his gaze, growing more and more nervous. You were unlikely to lie in this state.

“...Interesting. Why do you like it?”

“Because the drink is really flavorful, refreshing, and not to mention, aromatic! Above all, the colors really did it for me! They are so pretty, just like Aventurine’s eyes!”

While he expected you to blurt out your honest thoughts, he hadn’t anticipated you’d respond without a second thought—and with that smile, too.

The remark was nothing new. Everyone he met had commented on his multicolored eyes at least once. If anything, the speed of your delivery, as if you’d rehearsed it multiple times, should’ve made him suspect you had prepared a script.

Yet, in an instant, a certain memory flashed across his mind, as vivid as if it were yesterday.

A memory of a certain drunken girl.

He quickly dismissed the thought, staring intently at you, who were dressed in a waiter uniform, with a black butterfly mask on your face.

“...Please ignore that. You heard nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Of course. Did you say anything just now?”

So, he let you go. For the time being, anyway.

Besides, if he wanted to extort the truth from you, there was a much more reliable, if not surefire, way.

“Fine, I accept. Shall we place our order?”

Then, as you buried your face in the menu, Aventurine shot the Dealer a glance.

Sensing the implication behind his gaze, the Dealer grimaced; his golden eyes narrowing in guilt.

The ashen-haired man’s sense of righteousness must be kicking in. Aventurine expected nothing less from the Hero of Penacony—or rather, that was why he chose him as a sidekick.

With enemies hounding him from all sides, Aventurine wanted a piece that behaved exactly as he expected, precisely the way he wanted, based on what he knew they would or wouldn’t do.

Who could be more perfect for the role than the man who danced alongside him until the exact moment he plummeted into the Sea of Nihility?

Above all, not only was the man aware of the importance of this meeting, but he also possessed a great deal of reasoning ability.

A regular customer suddenly approached their table, dressed as a waiter. Then, she performed various magic tricks while returning Billy's belongings into his pocket. Coincidence? Ha! As if!

And the man, the Dealer, was aware of this too. Resolving himself, he gave Aventurine a faint nod and went straight to fetch the orders.

Then, Aventurine turned to you again.

As he teased you, he thought to himself.

Ms. Aschen, did you know?

Every time he entertained the mass as everyone’s favorite gambler, he had to go through a set of procedures to ensure that there was no foul play.

Including, but not limited to, drinking the Truth Serum.

The rules applied to everyone who sat on this particular table to this very day.

Now, since you’ve come to play with me, isn’t it only fair that you abide by the rules?

I’d assume that you’re well aware of this, since your manager was the one who came up with it.

So, if you want to blame anyone, blame him.

In exchange, he’d give you the whole truth—words devoid of any lies, just as he had been the entire time, from the beginning, after drinking the serum at the start of the game.

✦✦⟡✦✦

You weren’t lying when you said it was your favorite drink, alright.

The moment your order arrived, you didn’t hesitate to dig in. And, of course, you started with the drink. Whichever glass you picked didn’t matter—both were laced. He simply sent his sidekick to ensure the bartender followed through.

Then, without any hesitation, you sipped it using the readily available straw.

Seeing how defenseless and careless you were somewhat astonished him.

Ms. Aschen, shouldn’t you be more wary of food offered by a stranger?

After taking a sip, you remarked about how tasty and refreshing the drink was. To seamlessly blend the taste of flowers, berries, and Truth Serum... Once again, the one and only bartender of that place had showcased his talent.

As for the Truth Serum itself, the family that owned the Primavera had ties to the mafia, so procuring it shouldn’t be difficult, as evidenced by the fact that they always had something ready for him every week.

Of course, Aventurine had a surefire way to counter it: just don’t lie and omit the truth.

Due to his status, he could speak freely without worrying about any consequences. When it was something he had no business saying, he simply wouldn’t. Why put himself at a disadvantage?

—Anyway, the serum, extremely effective in interrogating spies and old enemies, simply made it impossible to tell a lie.

“...Did you especially choose this one so I’d lick your fingers clean?”

“!!”

Especially when that person was feeling flustered or panicked.

Like you are right now.

“Ms. Aschen, there’s cream on your cheek.”

“Eh? Where—...!!!!!!!!”

However, that wasn’t why he drew nearer and kissed your spotless cheek.

The sight of you eating with gusto, which he had only glimpsed a few times until today, was now right in front of him—so sweet, in fact, that he couldn’t resist taking a bite.

“Cough! Hack! Cough!”

But then, you suddenly broke into a coughing fit, and he instinctively pushed a glass of drink to you.

“Oh no... Here. Have a drink.”

At first, he thought nothing of it. He had tested it. He’d been drinking the Truth Serum for almost a month now, without any side effects. It couldn’t be tampered with either, as the Dealer was there to supervise the entire process. Or could this be the ‘allergy’ that you mentioned?

Just as he was about to pull back his hand holding the drink and call for an ambulance, you seemed to recover. Only then did he realize he’d been holding his breath.

Meanwhile, you gave the drink he offered an odd stare.

“Aventurine, that is your own glass.”

In turn, he looked down at his own hand, realizing that what you said was true.

One reason he was uneasy about the drink was due to the implications it carried.

Before going on a mission, he would usually research the local culture and history to aid his operation and coordinate his attire. That was how he learned about a certain local custom tied to this drink—the Lazurite Bells.

A pair of lovers would drink from each other’s cup to profess their undying love, weaving their destinies under the starry sky and the flowers that mirrored it. Basically, a marriage proposal.

Since you worked here and were likely a native, there was no way you wouldn’t know.

Hence, he was apprehensive about ordering it at first. He didn’t want to give the wrong signals. He had plenty of experience dealing with people who deliberately misinterpreted gestures or cues to suit their own convenience. Unless the need arose, he avoided engaging with such individuals, knowing it would only lead to more trouble down the road.

And yet, this ended up happening.

A coincidence that could only be called fate was brought about by his own hand.

Perhaps, if he were just an ordinary man, he’d have believed in destiny and even rejoiced at the turn of events.

Aventurine shook off the thought—it was neither here nor there.

“...Or so luck would have it.”

After a momentary silence, he uttered that. Unbeknownst to anyone, he was ridiculing his own luck.

You seemed to mull over his words, and it occurred to him belatedly that he could just play along. So, Aventurine took a sip out of your glass and grinned.

“There, we’re even now.”

True enough, this gesture sent you into deep thought as you stared at him, mesmerized.

No way, did she really misunderstand?

“—Hello? Earth to Ms. Aschen?”

“S-sorry... I was just thinking...”

“What were you thinking about?”

As he asked you, he narrowed his eyes, a slow, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was certain you wouldn't be able to look away, your gaze drawn to him.

Even the question itself was deliberately phrased to make you confess everything on your mind.

He expected you to fawn over his previous gesture, completely misunderstanding it, at which point he’d tell you outright: it meant nothing. But he was hoping he’d get lucky and you’d fess up about your entire ploy tonight.

Earlier, he’d pointed out why you weren’t the best spy. But as time passed, he noticed you fidgeting restlessly, increasingly preoccupied—no doubt, your own mission weighing on your mind.

You can let it all out, Ms. Aschen.

Don’t let them bother you anymore.

I promise that I’ll show you mercy.

He watched you closely, waiting for the moment your lips parted, offering him nothing but the truth.

“...The real ones look so much prettier.”

As you spoke of these words, your gaze briefly landed upon the drink and then his eyes. You stared with such intensity that, for a moment, he struggled to maintain eye contact.

A gaze that wasn’t probing or scrutinizing, but simply that of someone admiring something beautiful—so straightforward, he couldn’t even convince himself otherwise.

✦✦⟡✦✦

He wasn't in a rush to get answers from you, but he knew he was purposely taking his time.

But now, he couldn’t prolong it anymore—he mustn’t, lest he caved.

He might be a gambler, but he was also a businessman. He never bet on anything that yielded no returns, much less something that only resulted in losses.

Not even the unluckiest gambler, burdened with debts so vast that not even his entire generation could pay them off, gambled with the intention of losing—let alone a businessman.

Whenever he casted his bet, he set his sights on the target, risking it all for that one particular outcome. After all, it was only common sense.

Someone who blindly threw his chips in, convinced by his own fallacy that he’d eventually win big, was simply a gambling addict.

Someone who ran his business into the ground, without a firm footing and blinded by the illusion of something grand, was an undeniably shitty businessman.

These facts were so obvious to him, as clear as being asked the color of the sky.

And yet, a few times now, as he spent time with you, he found himself tempted to place his wager: to bet that it was all a coincidence, to bet that it was fate, to bet on believing in you.

A wager with almost guaranteed losses, followed by further setbacks.

And yet, despite his better judgment, his impulse threatened to take over.

Hence, this mustn’t go on.

“I haven’t tipped you for your incredible service tonight, have I?”

✦✦⟡✦✦

He had a repertoire of methods to extract answers, but since he was pressed for time and it wasn’t a priority, he had to choose the most effective and time-efficient approach—and finally, he settled on this one.

“This is just a little something.”

Thus, he gave his flawless sapphire collar pin to you.

Don’t be mistaken, he did intend to tip you. What he purposefully left out was that it was also an upfront payment.

While you were still wide-eyed and awestruck from just landing rich, he reached for the emerald on his chest. Cygnus Emerald.

“WOOOW!!!”

“OMG!!!”

As he placed it in your palm, the crowd erupted in cheers. To them, he must’ve appeared like a lovestruck fool, eager to part with his money just to please his lady.

“This is the most precious item on my person right now,” he added, sounding sincere.

In reality, it wasn’t. Throughout his life, he had only ever owned two precious items: a scrap of cloth, worth less than a thousandth of the gem, left by his late father, and another lost in the dunes. There would never be a third.

Hence, the keyword “on my person right now.”

“Wait—” “—WAIT A DAMN SECOND!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Sure enough, seeing the one and only thing he’d been coveting from the start falling into another’s hand, Billy blew a fuse. At the same time, Aventurine noticed a few people clad in leather jackets turning this way. They had been blending with the crowd until now.

Good grief. Looks like he never intended to let me go from the start...

Including those who openly served Billy, there were around thirty of them. He made a mental note of them and shot a glance to the Dealer, who nodded in understanding. Once again, having a sharp-witted sidekick was really handy.

“This isn’t what we agreed upon!! Why are you giving those precious stones to a goddamn waiter?!”

Amidst that, the conversation switched to the value of the gem.

“They are flawless gems! Especially that emerald! It’s Cygnus Emerald! It’s worth at least 170,000,000,000,000Credits!”

Since Aventurine was conditioned not to lie, he kindly added, “Not exactly. The mine has since closed down, so it's the rarest of the rare—probably worth five times that amount.”

Like fuel poured onto a fire, Billy's eyes blazed with greed. Meanwhile, you looked thunderstruck.  

While maintaining a relaxed front, Aventurine wondered: what’s the big deal?

The emerald was undeniably captivating, and knowing he was one of the few in the world to own it fed his vanity. Yet, in the end, it was as worthless as anything else money could buy. Although it did serve its purpose, nonetheless.

“Haa...! See, this is why a slave like you is hopeless! You’re blind to its worth, which is why you gave it away to a rando! They are wasted on you!”

When Billy uttered those words, some in the vicinity—including you—became appalled. To you and everyone else, it probably seemed like things were heating up and that Billy was getting personal.

However, as surprising as it might sound, Billy was trying to be helpful, at least in that moment. Aventurine had seen his reproachful gaze and heard the admonishment in his tone.

Surely, even without drinking Truth Serum, that man would have said the same thing, in the same manner, thinking he was helping a lowly slave who lacked an eye for value.

This simple observation, made to pass the time, quickly slipped from his mind.

“Ave-Aventurine...”

“Hm?”

Suddenly, he heard your voice from beside him and turned around.

When he saw the look on your face, he became confused. 

Why do you look so pale? What could be the problem?

Were you shaken by Billy’s offensive remark?

So, he asked in the friendliest tone he could muster, “What do you think of those gems? Do you like them?”

When you were still on his lap, he always did that to break the ice, and it worked. But this time, you never recovered.

“I-I think they’re pretty, but I don’t think I can accept them—”

If anything, as you answered with an unfocused gaze, you seemed to shrink more and more.

As he pondered why, it suddenly occurred to him.

...Ah, right.

Didn’t Billy let it slip that he was a slave? Since it was like a universal knowledge, he just assumed that everyone already knew. But could it be that you didn’t?

I see.

So, you didn’t know.

It didn’t matter either way.

“Haa...”

An almost inaudible, empty gasp leaked from his lips.

If anything, it only made sense. It certainly provided a simpler explanation for your behavior until recently. However, it didn’t explain your refusal of his gift, especially when you had been holding it so preciously—even now.

Unable to figure out why, he asked you, “Why? Because a slave gave them to you?”

Now that you knew, were you afraid that he might starve or something? Or did you start having reservations already?

Due to the nature of his job, he interacted with big shots and influential figures almost daily. During those exchanges, it was not uncommon for him to give gifts as a gesture of friendliness and politeness. However, upon learning about his past, some of those figures didn’t hesitate to throw it back in his face—both literally and metaphorically. To nobles like them, receiving a gift from a slave was an insult. No matter how precious the gift, the fact that it came from a slave tainted it.

As for you, working in such a high-profile establishment like Primavera, you had probably developed a refined taste.

Were you hesitant because they might be counterfeit? Did you suspect that he was playing you for a fool?

Regardless of what came after, his intention to give you that emerald and sapphire collar pin was sincere.

“Ms. Aschenputtel, I may be worth only a few measly coins, but I can assure you that my gifts are not.”

So, he reassured you.

However, whether those words, coming from a slave of little worth, held any value to you, he didn't know—and probably never would.

“If you dislike them that much, you may place them on the table over there.”

The dice had been thrown.

“Aventurine, it’s not like that—"

“—Hahahaha! Of course! Of course she doesn’t know! That's what you get for letting his looks fool you!”

All the preparations were complete, and the cast members were in their respective spots.

“Do you know how hard I’ve been holding back my laugh?! I was wondering how to break the news this whole time! Hahahaha!”

Now, all that was left was to spectate.

Determined to get his hands on the emerald at all costs, Billy would undoubtedly be hostile toward you. Under such a pressure, there was no way someone as green as you could maintain your composure. What kind of truth would you blabber in that moment?

Indeed, the method he had arrived at was to pit you against Billy.

He’d be able to determine whose side you were on while also ensuring that Billy never got what he wanted—essentially killing two birds with one stone. In return, you received abundant wealth. Granted, if whoever hired you isn't too stingy and allows you to keep everything.

While the two of you were at it, he reclined against the plush sofa, resting one leg on top of the other. He reached for his leftover drink—a glass of Lazuli Bell—and tipped it slightly toward you, as if offering a toast.

Cheers to your newfound wealth.

In exchange, you’ll give me a good show, won’t you?

“Serves you right, you shallow bitch! How does it feel to find out that you’ve been latching onto shit painted with gold?! Now, hand them over!”

No longer playing nice, Billy hurled all sorts of curses at you, reaching for the jewels. In response, you clutched them tightly, pulling them away from him.

His lips, only an inch from the glass, curved into a grin. 

Money shows true colors.

Naturally, this made Billy furious.

“Fucking whore! Do you think I was asking you?! Before, I was kind enough to offer you payment, but now you can forget about it! Just wait and see if I don’t make your life hell!”

He saw you tense up in fear and averted his gaze.

Seeing that you came all the way here to join their table, you should at least be prepared for this, right?

“You know what? There was a waiter just like you—acting all high and mighty and being stubborn for no reason. In the end, I had that stupid cunt begging on her knees, crying. That was the last anyone ever heard of her.”

As more insults were thrown your way, a hot, stifling sensation welled up in his chest, rising uncontrollably. In exasperation, Aventurine tore open the front of his shirt to let off steam, but to no avail.

Thinking that a sip might cool him off, he lifted the glass to his lips.

The violet, cyan, and navy liquid sparkled before him, radiating the transparency and brilliance of a crystal. In contrast, his eyes, reflected in the colorful surface, appeared bleak—like the depths of the sea where sunlight could never reach.

So, how could they be prettier?

Therefore, you had to be mistaken.

Ms. Aschenputtel, you shouldn’t idolize someone too much.

From what he’d seen tonight, your feelings toward him seemed to be genuine.

However, he only cared about ‘what is’ and ‘what isn’t.’

You matched your schedule with his, then joined his table as a waiter, doing questionable things that could be seen as aiding his enemy—it was as simple as that. Anything beyond that was mere conjecture.

Still, if...

If.

He realized he'd been using that word more often lately, even though there shouldn't be an 'if' in his world.

If.

If, somehow, miraculously, it turned out that you were still the same girl from that night.

“...Hic, your eyes, they are, hic... so pretty.”

That drunken girl who couldn’t even tell left from right...

Just then, a voice broke him out of his reverie.

“Of course I know, you piece of shit!”

A voice so firm, it no longer carried the stuttering shyness from before, followed by a dull snap.

╚══════╝

🄾🄽🅆🄰🅁🄳 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ８】

[wiltedkyinn]

healing scars (male reader!!)

(Slight neteyam x male reader, read part 2 not proofread lamo.)

y/n was deep asleep when one of the younger members of the tribe woke him up. “y/n get up they are forest na’vi”  the small girl tried dragging the older na’vi. “Fine, fine im up” his voice was barely above a whisper, still waking up. After a small walk they were meted with 6 darker na’vi. There was Ao'nung with his friend Roxto, picking on them because of their tail. y/n walked over to Ao'nung and grabbed his ear, slightly kicked his knees. He was in a kneeling position, “Ao' Nung! apologize immediately.” “y/n! Why are you defending strangers?” “Even if they are strangers, they deserve respect.” you pinched his ear, “now apologize.” his ear where y/ns hand was pinching was becoming slightly red. “I'm sorry” his voice was barely a whisper. “I'll finish dealing with the both of you later,” y/ns e/c eyed was glaring at Roxto. 

“Now, who are you?” his attention now at the unknown na’vi in front of him. “I'm Jake Sully, this is my family. Neytiri, neteyam, lo’ak, kiri, Tuktirey” the name was familiar in y/ns head “ the Toruk Makto? The great warrior neytiri? What brings you here?” Ronal and tonowari were now there. While jake and tonowari were talking i walked closer to the kids inspecting them. Suddenly Ronal grabbed one of the girls' hands, “they have demon blood!their not even real na’vi” 

y/n looked at the girl's hand before she pulled her hand back from ronal. “Show me your hand.” she told one of the boys, he obeyed. “Ronal, there is no reason to do this. They are already humiliated enough.” y/n was looking down into ronals eyes. She glared back, reluctantly letting go of the boy's hand. She then started making her way to tonowari. “Are you guys okay?” y/n again at a whisper. The boy nodded while the girl scoffed. In Front of them are the two mothers, one hissing the other arguing back. Jake apologized for her behavior. i walked back up to the front holding up Jake's hand. “You were once human right?” he nodded a couple of times, “that explains the children” i announced, hopefully to lift some tenison. The littlest one poked at my leg, the cyan na’vi squatted to be eyes level with her. “Yes?” his voice now at a normal tone, “what happened to your back?” the mother quickly interrupted “tuk! Don't ask questions like that.” “It's okay miss, let's see what they decide first.” he turned his face, smiling, to face the leaders of the tribe. 

They both looked at y/n with a somewhat concerned face, he nodded.  And that was it. They were officially accepted, as long as they didnt bring war and learn the way of water which me, Ao'nung, Tsireya and Roxto would help.

“Here I'll show you your pod. Where you'll be living.” y/n was in front of the family leading them, some kids tried to say hi, before they could their mothers snatched them away. Neytiri dropped a rug, a heavy thud was heard. Y/n started chuckling, “that's how i was when i was first accepted too,” “you aren't native Metkayina?”  He shook his head to the left and right. “I'll come collect you guys tomorrow so we can start training, good night,” with that the sully family was left alone.

Next week

(still teaching him how to dive.)

y/n knocked on the side of the pods. “You guys ready?” some hummed others nodded but Tuktirey's tail clinged onto the back of y/n's leg. y/n giggled cute he thought to himself. Finally reached the shore where Roxto, Ao'nung and Tsireya were. Y/n quickly saw how lo’ak was looking at tsireya, vice versa.

 After practicing diving to see how far they can go. y/n brought up breaking into pairs. Roxto with tuk, tsireya with lo’ak, Ao’nung. Leaving y/n with neteyam. “The way of water has no beginning and no end. The sea is around you and in you. The sea is your home before your birth and after your death. Our hearts beat in the womb of the world. Our breath burns in the shadows of the deep. The sea gives and the sea takes. Water connects all things, life to death. Darkness to light.” was whispering to netayam. To somehow calm him. “You have to breathe slower, to expand your lungs.” y/n reminding him, “breathe here. Not your lungs.” y/n was now holding neteyams stomach. The darker na’vi stared into the lighter ones eye. y/n cleared his throat, ‘’here try diving again expert you'll have to catch something’’ y/n slowly took off a necklace, it had some beads, a couple shells, small rocks and at the heart of the string was a glowy dark blue oval rock. “It's a small things i've collected over the years of traveling. Though I have a bigger collection in my pod.” he gave neteyam the necklace to inspect, remembering the patterns, he saw a familiar bead on the left side of the dark blue rock. “Have you been in the forest before or near the Omaticaya clan?” “yes but that was my first venture, I should go back one day.” smiling to himself remembering the memorious. “Thats where im from” neteyam was pointing at himself. “I know,” neteyam brows are knitted. “” Why didn't you say something earlier?” “Your mother seems to be going through homesickness. What good is it to bring it up?” The cyan na’vi was looking at the necklace before slowly lifting up his head to look at the darker na’vi. While neteyam was looking at y/n he barely noticed y/n throwing the necklace into the ocean. 

“I wasn't ready!” as he dived in.

“Only losers say that!”

After a while y/n started to worry a bit. He didn't throw it that far right? Right? While deep into thought. The forest na’vi was seen behind the reef na’vi. Slowly creeping up, like a predator looking at its prey. He jumped from the ocean onto y/n, necklace on his neck. Y/n startled bucked his head into the ‘unknown thing’ quickly taking his fishing knife out of his waistband. Slightly cutting the younger na’vis neck. “Neteyam do not scare me like that!” his voice was laced with worry. Y/n quickly put his hand onto the boy's cut, calling any ilu. He took the boy's hand. “Here sit” they were now in y/ns marui/pod. 

“Keep pressure on it.” the boy somewhat shouted while digging in a box. He quickly sat on his knees on the side of neteyam. “This might sting a bit.” y/n slowly moved the boy's hand off of his throat. Without noticing y/n didn't move when neteyam held onto his hand while applying salve onto his neck. He didn't move even after nettayam flinched feeling the cold product on his open wound. 

“ What were you thinking?! I could have seriously hurted you!” 

“Im sorry y/n”

“Don't do that again net” “net? I have a nickname?" "You do now, honoring your almost death by the hands of me!” y/n wasn't actually angered but worried. What would've of y/n killed him? How would he explain himself to his parents?

“Your parents! Oh my ewya. Your parents! What am I going to tell them? ‘Sorry I almost slitted your son's throat!! First impressions matter, dear erwya please guide me to not die of embarrassment—” y/n was cut off by neteyam “my parents already like you, you stood up for us when we first arrived." there was a silence. “I'll walk you home it's almost eclipse, i guess ill try to explain to your parents.” y/n slapped the back of his head, just as i reminder to not sneak up on him again. 

   While walking neteyam's tail stuck to y/n's leg just like tuk did. “You sister does the same thing,” y/n then placed his hand carefully on the other's tail. Taken aback neteyam tail quickly left y/n's hand and started swaying back and forth. y/n laughed at the reaction. “Hey I'm sorry if he is out after curfew there was an uhm accident” y/ns head was looking at the sand by jakesullys feet. “What happened?” Neytiri was quick to inspect both of us. She quickly noticed the small cut on his neck. “I was teaching him how to dive, and he had caught me off guard. Off instinct i had accidently cut... His throat I'm sorry.” he had finally mustered up the courage to look up at Neytiri. “When you wake up you should put this on again, also you shouldn't show up to lesson tomorrow salt water would only infect it.” y/n gave a bag filled with the slave he had used earlier. y/n started to walk into the direction of his marui. “y/n!” neteyam called out. “Hm?” “Your necklace,” he looked behind him, facing the marui. “You can have, as a token of asking of forgiveness” 

[writingoddess1125]

Boardwalk Artist

Finally used my limited drawing skills for this little story!

Support me on Ko-Fi

No warnings. Fluff-tastic!!

It had been a fairly good day on the boardwalk- Plenty of ships stopping by which allowed you to get some minor work done. Any money was good for you, especially as a artist which wasn't a common or appreciated trade in the East Blue.

Most your work came from low time pirates wanting a better drawing of themselves instead of the unflattering photo from their Bounty's. However the little Berry you got was enough to eat, keep a roof over your head and buy more supplies.

Speaking of supplies-

You sigh as you realize this is the last page of this pack of paper- better make it worth it. Maybe a landscape or the sky or..

However something red and blue catches your eye- spotting a stranger walking down the boardwalk past you.

Your eyes focus on the stranger, noticing the scowl on his face and the clear distaste he had that lingered on his aura. However despite the scowl he was unique looking and at least to you attractive. Strong jawline, pretty blue eyes, wonderful cyan hair and the cheaply painted over 5 o'clock shadow adding a rugged look to his appearance. Defiently your type in some way.

So you begin to sketch him, The last paper being filled up by this odd clown stranger walking past. It was almost muscle memory at this point as you captured him to your finest abilties.

He must have felt you staring as he turns to give you a passing glare-

So you waved him over, he glanced around himself like he was expecting forr you to call for someone else- till you pointed directly at him and waved him over again which lead him stepping forward. The pocey of circus people carrying weapons behind him also staring at you in question at your odd actions-

You finish the sketch with ease and smile at the odd man as he got within a few feet of your little set up.

"Here you go. Last paper of the day is free" You said kindly ripping the last peice of paper from your board and handed it to him as you stood up to pack up your things.

He opened his mouth clearly to say something snarky and rude but paused as he looked at what you handed him.

He stared at the paper, it was a pretty okay drawing of him from the side mainly charcoal with some light white, red and blue chalk were his nose, makeup and hair was which made them pop nicely. In the corner was a scribbled signature and note saying 'You look cool, Thanks!'

He looked up at your surprised as you finished packing the last of your supplies of the day.

"Er- Uh thanks?" He said in a confused tone, Clearly not used to stuff like this. Which was normal for most customers you got anyway.

"No problem, Should thank ya for the nice look" You say cheerfully putting on your backpack and tucking the cheap wooden easel under your arm.

"Oh by the way your nose looks really pretty with your hair color. Complimentary colors and all" You say with a wave and smile. Walking away leaving the Captian standing there bewildered and unable to process what just happened.

[ph0enix-12]

Ichorverse - chapter 3

~ Knowledge’s keeper ~

This may sadly be the weakest chapter in the story, there just wasn’t that much to say

<- Chapter 2 . Chapter 4 ->

He was named Dust, for that was all he was, dust to be swept under the rug and forgotten. To be left in a library and gather over the books, to be quiet and invisible, to not ever be seen by anyone.

His family was far too powerful and influential in high society to be seen with a son like him, a frail and cursed child.

He was never fully alone, he saw spirits as they moved around his parent’s villa, but even they didn’t spare more than a glance at the forgotten child.

Many of the books of the library were used as decoration, lining the shelves just to fill them, like magic books, his favorite thing in the world. He was honestly grateful to be in that family just because it meant he could study magic. His mana lines always felt full and stuffy, making him always sluggish and sleepy. He only realized once he grew up that the reason for that was a surplus of magical energy hidden inside him.

He studied science even if magic was his true calling. Reading every single book written by the greatest researchers he could find was easy, always hungry for knowledge and more stimulus for his head.

He found magic books of all kinds and he ate through each one, devouring the words eagerly and stewing over each single page for days until he knew it by heart.

He quickly learned that spell casters were able to save spells as cards. Spell caster, mage, magic user, he loved those appellatives, he yearned to be called that too. So, he started to make his own cards, and even if the first ones were incredibly unsuccessful, he kept going every day he spent in that library. Painting and writing each little detail he found described in the books he so loved.

And then his parents had to ruin it all, of course.

After almost his entire life spent in that library, he was dragged out to attend some sort of party, which was weird, but he would have been an idiot to question them.

The lights were too bright and the music was way too loud even if soft jazz was the only thing playing. He felt the expensive garments he was made to wear stick to his bones and the lace itched badly, the tag of the shirt dug into his neck like searing needles. It was all too much all at once.

He couldn’t look people in the eyes, even if it was required for him to speak to other nobles. He didn’t care about this stupid thing, he didn’t care that he had the honor to be hosted in the king’s palace. Why the heck would he!? His library was perfect, he liked his living conditions!- to a certain degree..

He ran out into one of the openings that from the ballroom gave into the gardens outside. His breath was short and everything was spinning. Dust tried to shield his eyes, because everything felt too bright, and loud and- Something was wrapped over his head…it was a nice fabric, it felt like good quality, but not like some stupid fancy lace.

He heard someone quietly guide him to take deep breaths and he listened, slowly being able to open his eyes again.

He was utterly stunned when he saw the man in front of him, who had wrapped the cloth over his head. This was no ordinary man, this was a god.

The god had a golden crack over one of his eyes and from that close, Dust could notice tiny cyan freckles over his cheek bones. He knew very well who the god was, since there was only one other god to live in the mortal realm. This man was Nightmare, Dust had read stories about the six gods before, and he was the youngest among them even if he came from a set of triplets.

His older siblings made the sea and the planets in their galaxy, while he made the night. From the moon and the stars, to the darkness that was casted over the world- he had made it all.

And now, there he was, looking at Dust with a calm yet worried expression.

“Are you feeling better? Can you hear me now?” He asked, making sure to keep his voice low for the startled mortal, “Yeah- i am fine-“ Dust blushed at his stuttering, it wasn’t often he spoke to new people and it was surely the first time he spoke with a god.

The star sighed relieved, “good. I worried when you ran out” he tenderly wrapped the cloth around Dust further, it was like a big scarf made of heavy cotton and thankfully not itchy wool.

The god sat beside him on the grass, keeping his legs gracefully folded under himself, “thank you..” Dust muttered shyly, “I- don’t know what happened”.

“You almost had a meltdown” he was hesitant, but he gently placed a hand over Dust's shoulder in an effort to soothe him further, “did something in particular upset you? Did someone bother you?” Dust closed his eyes, surprisingly letting himself get touched. “Uh- I don’t know” he spoke softly, starting to get embarrassed- fuck, the king had to step in to calm him from a meltdown, first day out into society and he was already messing up.

“It was…loud and bright. And these clothes suck” the god chuckled amused by his brashness. “Yes well, fancy clothing isn’t really ‘sensory friendly’” he smiled at him and the mortal felt..understood, maybe.

“You are Dust, correct? I learned just today that the Arkani family had a son” He tried his hand at some light conversation, maybe trying to distract Dust from the noise of the party. “Yeah..I don’t get out much, I mostly study” He perked up, looking interested, “really? What do you study? I enjoy litterature the most”

A small smile bloomed on Dust's face, hidden under the scarf that wrapped around his head, “magic…I like magic studies”

He was admittedly very excited to finally talk with someone cultured about it.

Dust proudly showed him his cards, he hadn't even realized how much he needed someone to ask about them and to see his achievements-

“It is rare for a young man like yourself to be interested in this field. Who taught you?” Dust blushed, ashamed, “..no one taught me..your grace” he lowered my head- most nobles had a proper education, none of them were self taught like him.

“You learned magic by yourself? That is-'' Dust hunched his shoulder, ready to be chastised or something, “-quite impressive!”

To say Dust was stunned was quite the understatement- he had understood this man to be someone interested in culture, he would have imagined to be reprimanded for not having a teacher-

“You have quite the interesting talent for cards too” the god gently picked up one of the spells Dust had displayed on the grass. He studied it carefully, squinting his good eye and rubbing his chin, the mortal admitted to himself that the god looked a little silly doing so-

“-and the writing on the cards is very pristine and polished, it means that you have been writing multiple cards for a long time-” Dust hid his little snort of amusement as the god kept examining his work, he honestly felt a lot better now, the sounds and lights were dulled by the scarf he had been given.

The star offered him a polite smile as he handed the card he held back to the mortal. “How would you like a place in my court?”

Dust blinked. “Me?” the god chuckled amused, “yes, you, Dust Arkani”

He blinked again, “are- you sure your majesty?” the god shrugged a little, “why not? I don't think you want to be stuck in a library forever, no?”

How did he-

~~~

I’m so sorry Dust, I promise you are interesting in other chapters 😭😭😭

[ashs-cardboard-box]

Lost bets

~ Arthur Morgan/GN!Reader

~ Romantic

~ 872 words

.................................................................................................

If there was one fact about you that stood above all, was that you were damn good at poker. Only getting better with time, and a few tricks from Hosea. TIme after time again, racking up money from people who wanted to try their hand with you.

This time, one of those people just so happened to be Arthur Morgan. You couldn’t deny he put up a good fight. Unfortunately, the both of you were far more intoxicated than you should’ve been. That one mistake led to stupid bets being made.

“I hate you..” Arthur grumbles as he pulls the brim of his hat down over his face to hide just how red he's getting. You, on the other hand, are enjoying his suffering immensely. Doubling over and clutching your sides, damn near tears due to his predicament.

“I really gotta do this..?” He asks hesitantly, to which you nod and force yourself to breathe, though still giggling as you eye Arthur up and down.

He looked deranged. Your bet was to put the loser into a dress for the day; nothing elegant. Just an old cyan, full-length dress the gang accidentally picked up a while ago. Doing all the normal chores one would've done anyway. 

His muddy boots peeking out underneath the hem of the dress. His broad chest almost unable to fit into where a pair of breasts are supposed to be, his lats causing the dyed fabric to stretch slightly. Unable to get his biceps through the sleeves, they just rest underneath his armpits. With one of his arms wrapped around his midsection awkwardly, his other hand holds his hat over his face. Not yet ready to leave your tent.

“C'mon, darlin', you look fineee..” You draw out teasingly, only making Arthur grumble in frustration. A broad grin plastered on your face as you step closer to Arthur.

“Here,” You say simply, removing his arm from covering his stomach, much to his surprise. Arthur lifts his hat curiously to look at what you're doing. His heart threatening to jump out of his chest as he watches you unfasten your leather belt and pull it free from your pants in one swift motion.

Without a second thought, you wrap the belt around Arthur's abdomen and lock it in place, with the idea that not only will it accentuate Arthur's waist and cause more embarrassment, but it'll hide a bit more of his shame should the dress try to fall down.

Arthur mutters something incomprehensible under his breath and looks away from you with a huff. Putting his hat back atop his head as you put your hands on his hips.

“Don't get used to it..” He cavils, stiffly reaching forward and resting his forearms on your shoulders, interlacing his fingers behind your head.

“I'll try not to.” You giggle, gawking at his figure one last time before straightening your posture and placing a small peck onto Arthur's lips before letting go of him entirely, much to his displeasure.

“I think you got chores to do, Morgan.” You tease, gesturing towards the entrance to your tent. He glares at you as if trying to say “I'll get you back for this” before he takes a deep breath to stone his nerves. Walking out of your tent with his head held high, as if it's entirely normal to see such a rugged man in a dress.

With you walking next to him, you watch as the other gang members stare at him in confusion before breaking out into fits of laughter. Arthur's cheeks flush a tinge of pink at their stares, but it's hard to deny how good it feels to see people happy again, even if it's at his own expense.

“Hey, Y/N! She your new woman?” John chortles as he looks between both you and Arthur. In a good spirited manner, you take Arthur's arm in your own and place his hand on your bicep, as you've seen the pricks in Saint Denis do with their woman.

“Damn straight. Ain't she just a beauty?” You retort with another fit of giggles. Arthur glares at you and John in silence. His brow furrowed yet his lips curved upwards into an amused smirk.

“I'll say.” John remarks sarcastically with a chuckle and a shake of his head. Finding it extremely amusing on how you even convinced Arthur to pull something like this.

“Think ya might look better than me, Arthur!” Molly jokes as she approaches the trio, only sparking more gang members to tease and mock the two of you.

“You'd make a hell of an ugly woman.” “Finally find your true form, blacklung?” “I ain't even gonna ask..” “Dutch's crazy spread to you too?” “This ain't got a damn thing to do with me.”

Comment after remark after mocking statement, all teasing the two of you for your drunken bet. Yet, at the end of the day, it's all in good fun. Arthur kept his promise and got you back after dark in your tent...much to the gang's dismay.

..............................................................................................

Still working on my last request but this idea was stuck in my head

I hope the formatting is good 💀 wrote it on my phone

[goodday-goodmorn]

Not used to posting things so fast- But the brain worms have infected me and @auspicioustidings concepts give me life. Once again- another from them, i felt contractually obligated to write this because my auntie is in Vegas for her birthday right now.

The concept in question

Not the after effects of waking up- but rather the proposal itself. This one’s short cause i pumped it out real quick. Just a little dabble.

————————

Ah Vegas. City of love. Wait no that was Paris- city of… sin? Well that sounded too much like a trashy YA romance novel for your tastes so- Vegas, City of…

Vegas: City!

God maybe you should lay off the M and M’s. Lavender and Bright cyan blue little things from the M and M factory are making you really taste the rainbow. Shit that was skittles catchphrase wasn’t it? Actually- did M and M’s even have a catchphrase other than the sexy brown M and M? Though that was less a phrase more a person. Er- candy. Chocolate.

Pah! You should have never gone to the M and M factory. Stupid little chocolate candy is making you think far more than you can handle right now.

Seriously it’s messing with your head. You’d better get rid of them.

You throw your M and M factory bag onto the floor, watching all the candies scatter the pavement in an explosion of color. That's why the pretty colors are so dangerous and not sold in the normal packs. They make people all loopy. Cause there’s no other reason you would be so outta sorts.

Except maybe the daiquiri you’d had. And the Manhattan. And those shots. And whatever that weird drink in a glowing lightbulb was.

Okay maybe it wasn’t the M and M’s.

Which means you just threw them out for nothing oh no! 20 dollars down the drain. And your M and M’s!

You whine mournfully over the loss, sinking to the ground dramatically and cradling one of the cyan shelled candies close.

“Is everything all… right?”

You barely register the voice- British and a bit rugged- before you are drunkenly rambling out-

“No- i thought my M and M’s were evil but they weren’t and i killed them for nothing!” You cry out, the words making you even more emotional, you pathetically sob, holding the cyan candy in your palms to your chest.

“Come back! Liveee please. Papa didn’t mean it i swear, i didn’t know what i was saying- you got me all tongue tied!”

“Hey-“

Oh british man has a very nice voice, so smooth and gentle, more than you were expecting.

“It’s alright love. We can get you some more candies.”

You sniffle.

“R-really?”

He smiles like some sort of teddy bear. Gentle and soft.

“Yes really. Just gotta get you back to wherever you’re stayin at first. It’s dangerous for a pretty girl to be on the street like this.”

You nod sollumly. “For the m and m’s yeah. Hard shells- but thin. Can’t be carrying em’ out in the cold. Poor little fellows can’t stand it.”

“Think you should be worrying about yourself first love.”

He really does look a teddy bear when he smiles. A very warm and cuddly teddy bear. Very warm. And you are oh so cold. Maybe…

“…maybe i’m and M and M.”

You mumble with a little frown, looking away from his oh so pretty eyes to instead stare at the cracked M and M in your hand.

He chuckles, it’s a nice sound.

“Com’re lovely. You’re shiverin.”

He held you up and you cling to him naturally. To your disappointment and utter display he is not as soft as a Teddy bear. Such false advertising. When you burry your head in his chest, while warm and soothing- it is firm with muscle. Hard just like his arms and co-

“Not exactly what i meant by that sweetheart.”

He’s pushing you away! Away from the warmth.

“No, I'm an M and M- gotta be warm or else I'll crack! Do you want me to die?”You whine out trying to stay close but he’s very strong, holding you firmly away from his toned chest.

(And raging boner. Not that you noticed it.)

“I know, I know- here. I’ll give you my coat.”

He wraps you up in his thick but soft coat and you relax immediately, snuggling into the fabric. With your eyes closed you hear the rumble of his chuckle.

“There’s a girl. Nice and warm now?”

You nod, making a drowsy and soft little “Yup.”

“Good. Now come’on. You know where's your hotel at?”

“Huh? We can’t go there! We gotta get more M and M’s first. Silly.”

“Right, course. Silly me.”

You giggle a bit hysterical. He agrees with you so easily, letting you link arms with him and walking you to the M and M factory. He’s so silly. With his cozy coat and koala-esc smile and pretty eyes and rumbly voice and-

“I think m’ in love with you.” You slur out, gazing at him with half lidded eyes.

“Shouldn’t say stuff like that sweetheart. Might give a guy ideas.”

Ah Ideas, you’ve got a lot of ideas. So many fun ones- but mostly one that you blurt out after he gently pushed your hand away when you tried to pay for your new M and M’s.

“I think I wanna kiss you.”

Price pauses as he tugs you outside the shop. Looks down at you, clinging to his arm, wrapped up in his coat; with the sweetest face and clearly wasted out of your mind. Price isn’t a good man. A good man would have called you a cab to get you back to your hotel. Would have asked if you had any friends to get you there. Would have gently told you to go to the stupid M and M factory another time.

He’s not a good man but even Price isn’t fucked up enough to take advantage of a pretty drunk girl. Even if his self control is wilting the more time he spends around the mess that is you.

He shakes his head with a little sigh, leaning down close to you and mumbling.

“S’ not a good idea to kiss strangers love.”

“So then marry me and we won’t be strangers.”

…Self control John. Self control.

“Will you marry me please?”

You plead with the teddy bear man, he’s just so cozy and pretty you can’t help it. You wanna kiss him soooo bad but he’s right you can’t kiss a stranger! But if he was your husband then it would be perfectly acceptable. And you are an ordained minister technically so it all works out!

Price looks at you, your pleading eyes, your softness, you wrapped up in his coat and clinging to his arm. Pretty little thing.

…He deserves to let his self control slip just this once right?

[popatochisssp]

Aesthetics Ref - SFF Bros

Nickname: Vi (SFF!Sans)

Height: 4” taller than you (OR 5’3”)

Eye-lights: Dark violet (#9400D3)

Magic Specialty: Purple, cyan, green

Scars/distinguishing marks: Small crack above his right eye-socket, three letters etched vertically along his sternum

Preferred Style: Business casual, aiming for sleek and professional and well put together enough to blend completely into the background. He doesn’t want to stand out as anyone or anything special, but if he does happen to have someone’s attention, he wants to be entirely unobjectionable and unworthy of scrutiny, because everything about him is perfectly, neatly arranged and very boringly ‘normal.’ Favors dark colors, lots of blacks and grays with the occasional accent color or geometric pattern—within reason of course.

Outerwear: Blazers and jackets (center-clasping stand-collars are a preferred style), generally worn open

Top: Button-ups, henleys, and other such long-sleeved shirts

Bottom: Slacks and trousers mostly, with maybe one or two pairs of dark jeans in the mix that rarely see use

Footwear: Mostly boots, flat combat style by preference or balmoral style for appearances, but also has some nice wholecut shoes for when the boots don’t work with the outfit of the day

Trademark accessory/accessories: An expensive-looking black watch with a Tyrian-purple face, worn on his right wrist

-

Nickname: Hunter (SFF!Papyrus)

Height: 1’7” taller than you (OR 6’6”)

Eye-lights: English violet (#563C5C)

Magic Specialty: Purple, cyan, red

Scars/distinguishing marks: None

Preferred Style: Rugged bad boy…but not too bad, of course, perfectly safe and approachable. Comfort and function are more important to him than style, but he’s good at working within those confines to make himself look good, and exactly the right amount of ‘dangerous’ to be interesting but not really threatening. Tends toward natural, earthy tones (greens, grays, and browns), solid colors, and little to no ostentation.

Outerwear: Hooded jackets and sweatshirts, usually leather for his outermost and something lighter underneath, but a big fan of being able to put the hood up or down to obscure his face a little or just change his vibe from spooky to chill or vice versa

Top: Athletic shirts, usually long sleeved and thumb-holes a bonus, but a good amount of tank tops and sweaters too

Bottom: Joggers and cargo pants mostly, but some sweatpants and even a pair of shorts or two (though those are usually layered with athletic tights for running)

Footwear: Cross trainers with some hiking boots in reserve, just to be prepared for other terrains

Trademark accessory/accessories: Fingerless gloves, the kind that are open and don’t circle the base of each finger. He likes having his digits free, but his palms warm and covered

[youredreamingofroo]

𓆩 Character Association 𓆪

- - [ ROO ]

[ Thank you @buttertrait and @flovoid for the tag!!! I loved reading yall's 🥹🫶 ]

- - - -

εїз - EMOTIONS/FEELINGS

➭ Tender, gloomy, infatuation, aloof

εїз - COLORS

➭ Black, white, purple, blue, cyan... most cool colors lol

εїз - SCENTS

➭ Rain, a stuffy room, apples, inexpensive/"average" brand cologne (like something you'd find in a Walmart or Target), raspberry danish pastries, hair dye (the scent) and just like... home? Very general and subjective ikik but I just heavily associate him with home 😵‍💫

εїз - OBJECTS

➭ Rugs, plants, fidget toys, CDs&DVDs of movies and shows, neon lights/LEDs, hair dye (the bottle/packaging? ig?), cracked phones, skylights

εїз - BODY LANGUAGE

➭ Squinting, hands in pockets, head resting in hands, off and on eye contact, lip biting, talking with hands, full body laughing, cracking of knuckles

εїз - AESTHETICS

➭ Webcore, voidcore, thriftcore, '80s/'90s vintagecore(? idk), lovecore, indie, gloomcore, grunge, maximalism/cluttercore (website that i found these from)

I'm tagging @groovetrys - @circusjuney - @gamyrmaiden - @miralure - @torissims - and whoever else wants to do this :) (if you've already done this or dont want to, feel free to skip)

[madmanwonder]

(Prompt, Superhero AU, Truth Serum) While Tarzan is still feeling the effects of the Truth Serum that he had to drink, Queen La uses this opportunity to ask if he desires her body. To see if she can use that.

John Clayton, aka Tarzan glared heatedly at the wicked white-haired woman. She gave him a wicked smile of mirth as she stare at him with confidence in her cyan eyes.

"Such anger, Beloved." She giggled. "I dare not assume that your wrathful nature doesn't translate in your desire for my body~?" The ruler and high priestess of Opar asked in a mockingly teasing tone of voice as she look at the rugged, handsome, heroic jungle warrior.

"You're right to assume my anger toward you translate strong desire for your body." Tarzan replied, shocked at the response he gave to the now pleased priestess-ruler.

[mhcoolfacts]

Monster Hunter concepts Pt. 7: Big Mouthed baddies

Well I have been a year without posting but got the inspiration again so here we go, today is the turn for two odd Leviathans from the third generation: Nibelsnarf and Gobul!

Let's start with Gobul, the Lantern Fish Wyvern, as you may have noticed from its massive mouth and bioluminiscent bulb, it is based on an anglerfish, but this monster from the flooded forest hides more than it meets the eye. And not just figuratively, because if you played MH3 or 3U you will know this monster hides beneath the bottom to ambush its prey, using the whiskers on its lower jaw (not its lantern) as bait and camouflage to catch unwary herbivores such as Epioth! Its combination of monkfish, frogfish and ray traits really tell us that it isn't a good swimmer, and as a bonus, this monster can inflate its back like a pufferfish, covering its back with toxic needles that paralyze its victims. Truly a smart combination of odd fishies, unfortunately, while it is a very interesting monster both in looks and behavior, its fight is rather boring and a lot of players are not fans of Gobul, and with no underwater in newer games, our beloved Gobul might not see the light (pun intended) again.

For its etymology, "Gobul" is an aberration of Gobble, a very fitting name for a monster that swallows its prey whole. The original name in Japanese is Chanagaburu, the Gaburu part is the same, while the Chana part comes from Virochana, which is a Sanskrit word that means illuminating.

Speaking of monsters that love to gobble things, Nibelsnarf is not really a monster that bothers to nibble its prey, despite the name. I am no expert, but I am fairly sure Nibelsnarf was designed originally as a land version of Gobul, both have the same body plan, with their main trait being its gigantic mouth, however, their design differences both in looks and combat are notorious.

Honestly I am not the biggest fan of Nibelsnarf, while I find the giant salamander idea nice, the execution isn't the best. There is just too much going on for my taste: it has gills that "absorb nutrients" from the sand (why), a lower jaw covered in holes to filter sand (what about the gills?), a back covered in rugged plating and in the shape of a dune (okay?), a bulbous nose (to detect vibrations?), and a vibrant lower side of contrasted dark patterns intertwined with cyan and yellow in a similar way to Volvidon. With the big nose and bright gills it ends up looking like a clown, overall, all these fancy traits do not combine despite the reasoning behind them. A thing I love about it, however, is its equipment, which has a really cool military theme with weapons resembling stuff like military knifes and grenades.

Now regarding its etymology, this monster reached the western audience in 3U with the name Nibelsnarf, while MH Portable 3rd players knew it before from its Japanese name Hapurubokka. Nibelsnarf did cause a bit of a commotion because the origin of the name is, and I quote, "Nibble, nibble, snarf, snarf!", love it, or hate it. Meanwhile "Hapurubokka" is a combination of Harpoon (a type of missile) and Bocca, which is mouth in Italian.

Would you like these monsters to return in the future? Or rather that they bite the dust :P

[true-blue-sonic]

Drabble based on @wonderinc-sonic​‘s tags on the ask I got about Silver’s gloves and cuffs and whether or not those two items are attached!

Word count: 1019 words

~~~~~~

 “Today’s done. Finally, honestly.”

With a groan Sonic flops himself onto the couch in Tails’ living room, his body stinging and complaining just a bit. Another battle with Eggman, a heart-pounding race with Metal Sonic which of course had ended in Sonic’s favour, an epic defeat for the madman who’d been blasted away by the explosion of his new toy...

But as battles tend to go, injuries are unavoidable, and Sonic grimaces as he clenches his upper arm and gives his aching shoulder a roll. That is going to be hurting for a while.

Silver is looking equally dishevelled, grey fur marred with thin cuts Sonic had forced him to clean and a painful-looking bruise on his muzzle. “But we won,” the younger hedgehog brings up, sinking into the couch as well. His quills flop all over his head, as if he’s unable to put the subconscious energy in them to keep them in their usual slightly-raised state; despite everything, it makes Sonic laugh. He himself probably doesn’t look much better.

“You’re welcome to stay here. Tails won’t mind if we crash on the couch," the speedster assures his pal, leaning down to fiddle with his shoes before kicking them off underneath the coffee table. Tails does mind unattended footwear and unwashed clothing laying around, but Tails also is not here to scold him, and thus Sonic’s gloves get flung onto the heap as well. Pushing one of the couch’s pillows in place with his elbow to sink his head on it Sonic grins at the time traveller. What the speedster himself is doing now is already breaking multiple of Tails’ house rules; if Silver were to put his shoes on the couch to sleep with, the young genius might just get peeved. “But you do need to take off your shoes, and maybe your gloves and cuffs too. That won’t be nice to sleep with, right?”

“It’s doable,” the easy response comes, as if Silver’s done it his whole life already. That probably is the case, but the younger hedgehog still leans down to obediently pull off his fancy boots and let them float beside Sonic’s shoes. He pulls on his gloves next, and Sonic’s eyes, which have begun sinking shut already with the promise of rest finally here, fly right open at the noise it elicits.

Most recognisable in a way Sonic can’t put his finger on, but also as if Silver’s glove has gotten torn right in half.

Shooting his body up on one elbow Sonic studies his friend. “What was that?”

“Hm?”

One glove laying on his lap Silver tugs on the other... and Sonic stares, incredulously, as the psychic pushes his cuff up and the ripping noise resounds again. But Silver’s gloves seem mostly unharmed as they get carefully laid down beside Sonic’s pile of items...? Sleep forgotten immediately the speedster leans closer to inspect them... before laughing, softly, as his fingers brush past the part of the glove Silver keeps around his wrist.

“Silv, are your gloves attached to your cuffs with velcro?”

“What is that,” the time traveller responds, clicking open his cuffs as well and placing them on the table tenderly. A scrutiny of those tells Sonic all he needs to know; a strip of soft lining covers the inside, whereas the gloves’ edges are much more rugged and coarse to drag his bare fingers over. And as Sonic picks them up under Silver’s suspicious glare and pushes them together, the hooks and loops of the two fasten together firmly.

“Huh,” the speedster remarks most amusedly. “I know they took velcro to space, but it’s nice to see they still make use of it even in the future.”

A spark of cyan swats at his hands, the items pulled away again. “Stop that. That stuff is just useful, you know? It doesn’t come apart unless I pull at it first,” Silver huffs, clearly not understanding the honestly-not-that-big-but-still-pretty-cool implications of Sonic’s discovery about how people in the future live.

“Hehe, certainly. But doesn’t it get stuck in your fur if you’re not careful?”

Lips pursing Silver makes a displeased grumbling noise, his hand drifting over his chest fluff betraying everything Sonic needs to know. “Only sometimes. And I’ve always gotten it loose again!”

Deciding he’s tormented his cranky friend enough – Silver clearly is exhausted, and Sonic himself too – Sonic sinks back onto the couch again, kicking a pillow towards the psychic to use as headrest. “Luckily velcro is not that sticky,” he mediates. “But it’s cool to see that there’s some things people still use decades into the future, just because it’s so convenient.”

“That is neat,” Silver agrees amidst a huge yawn, fussing with the pillow before his head sinks down on it and golden eyes peer at the large, cyan-lined cuffs one more time. “And it means that I’ll never lose my gloves. That is neat too.”

“Sure is. And if you ever need to have the strips replaced, just ask Amy.”

Silver merely mumbles something back, chest already rising and falling slowly, and Sonic lays his head down and immediately joins him in resting... only to dream of Silver entangled in a strip of velcro, pitifully fastened stuck and requiring some elbow grease from Sonic’s side to free him again.

Explaining during breakfast just why he can’t stop laughing every time he takes a look at Silver’s hands nets Sonic a velcroed glove tangled completely in his own quills and angry huffs galore about how there is nothing funny about gloves and cuffs that use velcro to attach themselves, before Silver can see the humour in it all anyway and begins laughing as well...

Even if it doesn’t make it more fun to remove said glove from Sonic’s spines again.

But that is simply the price Sonic has to pay to be one of the two people who knows the inhabitants of the future still make use of velcro, the speedster muses to himself as he and Silver fight to pull some wayward stuck quills from the barbed strip on Silver’s glove, and surely that is worth something also.

@spinn-dashh​