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quinnharperwrites · 7 months

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The Isles of Blirrosia: Chapter Four (Full)

Taglist: @anonymousfoz, @kaiarchives, @awleeofficial, and @immortaladrien

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Saffron could faintly hear the rustling leaves from the trees outside. How peaceful. The wind didn’t usually start blowing on this side until the evening.

Saffron snuggled her head into her pillow. If only she could stay like this forever, or even for just one day. In the background, she could hear the familiar sounds of screeching tires and the city hustle-bustle. She cracked one eye open to look at the window. The sky was getting darker, but she could still see the light of the sun. It should be set in a few hours.

Wait…what?!

She jolted up from her bed and immediately leaned over to her bedside table for her phone, only to discover its absence.

“Oh, no. Where is it, where is it?”

After groggily groping around the bed and floor for an embarrassing amount of time, she found it under her bed (she didn’t even want to think about how it got there) and checked the time.

5:54. 5:54? Already?!

A wave of guilt washed Saffron over from head to toe. There was no point in showing up to the lecture now. She had missed her emotional control class. She always did her best to make that class because she felt bad for Professor Harley; no one showed up to his class on Mondays because most of them had a conflicting class specific to their aptitude—the rest usually didn’t show up. Aura manipulation is a pretty rare aptitude, so there wasn’t a teacher to instruct her. Her parents managed to find a private tutor a couple of years back who had an aptitude that enhanced his knowledge, so he was able to help her. She sees him about once or twice a week now, as opposed to every day like she did while growing up.

This day was like a roller coaster, but at least Saffron could see that the end was soon.

Saffron clambered back onto her bed and opened the news app. She didn’t want to go to the library and work on the project, but at least she could do this to pass the time. She clicked the ‘Hero Society’ tab, and after scrolling through a few headlines, she was starting to wish that she hadn’t.

Sensation Defeats an Amateur Villain at the Rosia Central City Bank!

Ace of Spades Releases his Custom Deck of Cards!

Water Jelly Surprises a Third-Grade Class on a Field Trip!

Saffron Solis Nearly DESTROYS a Mango Nectar Billboard!

Ginger Solis Spotted With Flowers! Has she Finally Rebounded from her Break-up?

Saffron checked the last two authors, and she wasn’t surprised by the names. Amelia Roberts of the Morning Star Chronicles and Larry McCarten of the Rosia Daily Express. Two rival reporters from two of the most successful news companies in all of Blirrosia.

Ms. Roberts was known for her extreme curiosity, but the way she satisfied it was pretty nosy. She seemed to have it out for Saffron, and everyone involved knew why.

When Saffron was in middle school, she caught Amelia staking out in a car outside the school like a weirdo, probably to get some pictures, judging by the size of her camera. Don’t ask her why, but Saffron decided it would be a good idea to listen to Lai when she said to mimic the auras of a handful of her classmates and creepily surround Ms. Roberts’ car. She had been looking down at something on her phone, but Saffron knew the moment she saw the auras from her scream. After that, the prank went horribly. Ms. Roberts had jumped up and hit her head on the roof of her car before passing out. At first, Saffron was worried that it was from the impact, but she later found out it was from the shock. Saffron’s parents had to reimburse her and were surprisingly able to convince her not to sue; Saffron had been suspended for a week for using her powers without permission.

After the altercation, Saffron’s name was perpetually on the news. First, it was about the incident. But after Ms. Roberts returned to her job, she would watch like a hawk for any time Saffron screwed up, then blow it out of proportion. Saffron had no clue how she still had her job, but by now, she’s learned to deal with it.

Larry McCarten on the other hand? He was a real piece of work. Despite the denials, he was a prominent member of the Anti-Hero Movement. Saffron thought that it couldn’t get much worse than Amelia Roberts, but for the past two or three years, Mr. McCarten proved her wrong. If Ms. Roberts was nosy, Larry McCarten was downright invasive. He was close to crossing the line to stalker behavior. He was constantly writing about scandals—most of them untrue. But Saffron hated him for personal reasons.

She was about to skim through the article written about her when she received a call. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw her best friend's caller ID pop up on her screen.

“Hey! How was your class?”

“I didn’t go.”

“Wha–? But you never miss class. We need to attend as many as we can so we can be the best! What happened?”

She let out a shaky breath. “Lai, you won’t even believe what happened today.”

Saffron doesn’t know why, but she never told Lai about the elevator.

They had to have been on the phone for at least an hour, maybe two; there were so many opportunities to say something, anything! But she chose to keep quiet.

The sun was barely peeking above the horizon at this point—hues of orange, pink, and purple perfused with the darkening blue sky. After Saffron ended the call, she decided to walk to Lizzie’s Twilight Diner, the best place to indulge in spicy, crispy chicken, fried calamari, and a strawberry milkshake. Just thinking about it made her mouth water.

As she was walking to the diner, Saffron had the familiar feeling of being watched. Her pale pink skin and gray birthmarks suddenly stuck out like a sore thumb. Seven, thin, gray rings appeared on her neck when she was thirteen years old—the press had gone crazy for a week or two, claiming that she had entered her rebellious stage. The point was, Saffron wasn’t exactly difficult to recognize. She was used to this; she had to be. This was her life–full of lingering looks and stares. She should be used to it by now.

So why…why was it so unnerving all of a sudden? This isn’t like her at all; this isn’t right. She was never this off guard. First the elevator incident, then more flowers, and now this? Today was a day full of disappointments, that’s for sure.

Before she knew it, she was in front of the diner. The white walls were grayed from age, but the red, orange, and yellow accents on the awnings and door made it appealing. The fluorescent sign with the name of the store flickered and a few letters didn’t light up at all, but it wasn’t creepy. The exterior was very inviting.

As Saffron pushed the door open, a bright bell signaled her arrival.

“Welcome!” A middle-aged woman called out as she was wiping a counter. She was wearing a floral shirt and a red apron.

“Good evening, Mrs. Lizzie,” Saffron responded, “how’s business?”

The woman looked up at her voice, eyes glowing. “Why, if it isn’t my pinkest customer! Everything’s dandy, just dandy! How’re you doing, love bud?”

Saffron couldn’t help but curve her lips at the familiarity. Everything had been so…different.

“I’m doing great, Mrs. Lizzie!”

“Don’t just stand there,” she scuttled behind Saffron and began to push her towards the front counter, “Have you eaten yet? Sit! Sit! Order something!”

Saffron smiled as she swung her feet on the swiveling barstool, teeming with excitement and nostalgia. She couldn’t remember the last time she indulged in fast food, but during middle and high school, she loved to secretly try different places—it was by luck that she stumbled upon this place, but oh it was so worth it. She tried not to eat so much (after all, a full stomach could slow her down while she was flying) but she couldn’t resist this diner.

“Are you eating well? Every time I see you, you look thinner. Here,” she slid over a menu.

Saffron gazed over the old letters behind the lamination. She licked her lips as she wondered what to ask for.

She was going to order the fried chicken for sure and the calamari was always a must; however, she was still debating on if she should get red velvet cheesecake or a strawberry milkshake. But eventually, she decided on the cheesecake because she had never had that flavor before, so she told Mrs. Lizzie her order.

“Coming right up, dear! But here,” she said as she placed a platter of ribs covered a dark red sauce, “Try these for me,” she asked.

Saffron’s mouth watered as she stared at the plate—they looked delicious, but she knew that adding this to her meal was crossing the line. Saffron would feel way too guilty eating all of this.

“Sorry, Mrs. Lizzie, but I don’t think I can finish all of this. Maybe just one or two…”

“Nonsense!” she replied. “You have one of the biggest appetites that I’ve ever seen! And when was the last time you ate something that wasn’t a salad or ice cubes?” she asked. After waiting a moment, she continued. “I can tell by your face that your answer won’t satisfy me. Eat!” As she walked back to the kitchen, Saffron could hear her mutter about how much these new generations loved to starve themselves as she stared at the plate of ribs in front of her.

She needed to build good habits for when she became a hero: after all, one bite of food could weigh her down when she was flying or running—that could cost a life. But on the other had, she was only a student, so maybe a break wouldn’t be such a bad thing, especially if she was benefiting Mrs. Lizzie. After every thing she did for Saffron, it was the least she could do in return.

This was officially one of the worst days of her entire life.

The food looked so good, but after taking a few bites of one of the ribs, she was starting to feel very nauseous. And now that all her food was staring back at her, she couldn’t help but notice how unhealthily greasy it looked. Just smelling the hot oil wafting off the chicken and calamari made her head hurt. The cheesecake looked so good in the picture, but the only thing she could eat were the berries; she tried the frosting and almost puked right then and there.

“Mrs. Lizzie, it’s getting kind of late and I have to get back to the dorms. Could you help me pack these things to go?”

“Why, of course, dear!” she responded, getting to-go boxes from a rack. “Be safe—I don’t care if you’re aptitude is Level 89 or whatever. And don’t forget to come back soon!”

As she stepped back onto the street, the pungent odor of oil, ulfur and carbon overwhelmed her all at once. A scarlet haze tightly enveloped her head as she was forced to rely on muscle memory to take her to the dorm.

She didn’t remember tripping on the way back.

She didn’t remember dropping the food somewhere along the way.

She didn’t remember entering her building.

She definitely remember how she couldn’t focus on anything other than how the stairwell smelled like bitter alcohol and smoke. Saffron couldn’t handle it, so she turned back to the courtyard and fell on the grass.

It wasn’t perfect, but the earthy smell cleared the haze and her mind.

Saffron felt like the same question repeated in her head over and over again today, but what in the world was going on?

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writerscommunity #writing community #writers #writblr #writers of tumblr #boost #fiction writing #on writing #creative writing #am writing #wip: isles of blirrosia #the isles of blirrosia #isles of blirrosia #IoB

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bluebellhairpin · 1 year

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A/N: This is all me. I'm shipping you with me, but also I'm married to Erwin. But we could kiss if you wanted us to. (I have no idea what this is but its over 3k long and I put my heart and soul into it, and I just wanted it posted as soon as I could because I love it THAT MUCH.) - Nemo

Summary: Somehow you - a nobody college student- have found yourself invited to the most prestigious New Years parties in the country, and the hostess takes a liking to you.

Warnings: Some bitchy guests and a cry in the bathroom.

Masterlist || art <3

Invitations to the Smith’s New Years Parties were unspeakably converted.

Getting an invitation was like getting a ticket to the Wonka factory. Everyone was jealous, but some respect was given to you because you’d done something worth being invited to the Smiths. Them being the most prestigious and known couple in the whole city - sweethearts by any name and with enough combined wealth to have their generosity make a difference - everyone loved them.

Everyone wanted to be them. Or be with them.

Erwin - the husband whose charisma left anyones knees weak, and a quick thinking mind that never had him clutching at straws for what to say. He was surely his parents pride and joy, handsomely picturesque and with a kind smile to boot.

His wife, though, was more than just a pretty face to hang off his accomplishments. She was truly the heart and soul of their kindness. Erwin wasn’t half as ready to spend a few ten thousand dollars on charities every few months, but his wife? She threw cash around to those who needed it as much as she could. And he’d let her, he’d do anything for her.

She had him wrapped around her little finger like a teenage fool in love - even though they’d been married for close to ten years - and anyone could tell she was just as head over heels for him too.

The Smith’s never held parties at their home - parties were to meet new acquaintances, the home was where you had friends - and each New Years Eve celebration was at someplace new. Someplace glamorous and glittering like the stars, photos of it splashed over social media the next day. Last year it was at a garden near a lake - further out from the city and done up like some storybook wonderland.

And they never went to the same place twice.

You’d been dropped off in front of the building by a cab - a sprawling red carpet lined the footpath up to where the doorman stood by a revolving door.

You could see people chatting inside the foyer - all dressed to the nines. One had a glittering yellow dress with her hair done back in intricate braids and a man on each arm who were decked out with just as much glamour - one in red with a thick mane of hair, the other in orange with a blond undercut. They looked like they’d been before.

Remembering how you’d started looking for an outfit as soon as the gold envelope came through your mail, and how you’d looked at yourself in the mirror thinking you looked really nice. Even your roommate said you looked the part. Simple, and the earrings really pulled it all together, you’d thought. Thinking now, though, maybe at least you shouldn’t have found your clothes at a second-hand store.

Gripping your clutch, you approached the doorman - a little unsure about what to do. He smiled kindly, and you offered a shy one in return and fished out your invitation. He instantly recognised it with a nod and instructed you to take an elevator to the eleventh floor.

And if you were feeling intimidated in the foyer - simply passing everyone by to get to the lift that would take you to the party - it was nothing compared to how you felt stepping out of the elevator.

You looked to your left and knew exactly where you were supposed to go.

A huge dining room lay beyond two propped-open glass doors. Twinkling lights of gold and yellow lined the ceiling, and round tables were decked out with fancy dinner sets and cheese boards of food. Across the far wall was glass, and a balcony looking across the cityscape - perfect for firework viewing, even if you stayed indoors. Another wall had a stage with a wooden floor in front of it, where a band had been put together and was currently playing upbeat jazz, while the opposite wall across the tables was more food - and no doubt the kitchen.

You could tell - while it was a big room, and probably wouldn’t be chocked full of people - that only about half the guests had even arrived yet and it was only just past 9pm.

You worried momentarily that you’d have trouble finding a seat, but a table plan came into view as you walked through the doors. Finding your name, you felt your palms get sweaty. Surely these were randomly assigned - why else would you not only be sitting on their table, but also right next to Mrs Smith herself?

You felt a great need to sit - anywhere at all really - because of a wave of lightheadedness, but luckily your table was close by, near the centre of the room. Of course it was.

Once seated, a waiter passed by with a tray of various drinks. You picked one and gulped down half its contents in one go - to cool your insides down more than anything else. A cheerful eruption of greeting had you turn your direction back to the balcony - and there they were, enthusiastically greeting the trio you saw below in the foyer.

Erwin stood with an arm around his wife. He was in a deep gold three piece suit with the top three buttons of his dress shirt undone. He looked like he’d stepped off one of those business magazines you’d see in a corner store display. His wife looked just as photo-worthy.

Her hair was styled back and her dress had a red velvet corset with a flowy silk skirt - a slit up one side with shining silver stones around her neck and wrist, and a shimmer of more around her exposed thigh.

They were, admittedly, less flashy than some of their guests, but it was obvious that they held the attention of those around them as they greeted everyone with shaken hands and kissed cheeks.

As the minutes ticked by and they greeted more guests, you started noticing things.

You’d never been so close to them before - mostly seen on social media clips or tabloid news - but they kept sending looks to each other back and forth. Softer, or harsher, knowing and less so - all depending on who they were talking to. Something about it made you think they were telepathically linked - after so long together people would start to think the same way.

You didn’t know at that point in the night, but it meant they weren’t as kind as they looked.

It meant Mr and Mrs Smith could be cruel, and mean, and they could shun whoever they wanted - and with how everyone liked them, and how powerful they were, meant they could get away with it. It meant everyone would follow.

Socialites were like that - people came and went just like trends, no matter how big your impact is. But the ones that stayed, by some soul-selling miracle, stayed for good. And those that stayed had the biggest say in who else was able to stay too.

Luckily, more often than not, the Smith’s kindness outweighed their darker side. And luckily, others in their circle were more than content following.

Bottom line; whatever they say goes.

The night went on, and eventually - despite your inner turmoil about how you should go and approach them yourself - the couple made their way to your joined table. By now they’d begun nursing drink glasses of their own, and an arm reached beside you to place a champagne flute down.

Then a silk red dress slid into the seat next to yours.

“Hi,” she said, and you had trouble meeting her eyes, “You must be -”

You blurted out your name before she could continue, sticking your hand out to shake. She took it, wrapping her fingers around your palm and shaking slowly.

“Nice to meet you, officially. I’m really glad you were able to make it tonight.” she softly said, letting go of your hand and grabbing her glass again as she got comfortable in her seat. “I was a little worried you’d get scared.”

You met her eyes for a moment - some shade of brown, or honey, maybe green? - then turned to the platter of food, distracting yourself by choosing a grape.

“Why would I do that?”

“Most college students we invite don't even RSVP.” You gawked a little at that.

“How’d you know I was in college?”

“We try to invite a variety of people to our parties,” she said as if you hadn’t noticed - which you hadn’t. “We request looks at the more promising non-scholarship students in a few colleges - there's a lot of job openings that can come from simply meeting people - so we give them a chance to get their feelers out on some more upper-class opportunities.”

She leaned forward on her elbows, trying to meet your eyes. When you did, she smiled - there you are, they said.

“Not everyone needs scholarships, what they need is a chance to prove themselves to the right people.” You knew she wasn't necessarily wrong.

You still would’ve liked a scholarship though.

“So don’t drink too much, and go say hi to some people.” she said, leaning a little closer to give a reassuring pat on your shoulder. “If you need anything, come interrupt me. I’d love an excuse to get away from some of the people here.” She turned away from you with a wink, giving her attention back to her husband - who you noticed as he did you, and raised his glass in brief greeting.

You looked around the room - indeed there were a few people here you recognized - there were people who matched with both your major and interests. If only you didn’t feel so much like you were thrust into the deep end of a swimming pool with no floaters on.

It was ten minutes until midnight.

So far, you've done better than you’d thought you would’ve when it comes to introducing yourself. Quite a few people were rather friendly, and the ones who were less so still had made conversations short and sweet. Though one thing had been bothering you most the night.

You’d guess from their age, and how they all lingered together that they were college students like you - invited for their promise in whatever major they studied - but unlike the two or so students you had met, they stuck out like sore thumbs.

You did too, in a dull kind of way, but they did in a way that was worse. Like the gaggle of popular girls at prom who were spoiled and entitled and did themselves up too much. Or like they didn’t belong because they snuck in.

They kept looking around the room, giggling and pointing and talking behind their hands. Surely more than just you had noticed how clique-y they were being. Most gossip was pointed at other guests - as if any self-respecting person would dare to do that to the Smith’s guests - but as you walked past their table back towards your seat, you heard them talking about you.

“Look at their fit, it belongs in a dumpster.”

“Been busy kissing ass all evening, hope they know a New Years kiss is meant to be on the lips.”

How had they even been let in, you wondered, as you tried to ignore them. You looked fine, and you were doing what you were told to do. They arrived after you, and you knew that they hadn’t been given the attention or time of Mrs Smith like you had.

You were sitting on the Smith table, you reminded yourself, they weren’t.

But somehow that only made you feel worse.

Most of the guests were inside the dining hall or out on the balcony, leaving the foyer sparse - you hopped the bathroom would be empty. Because you were washed with a wave of sadness - you should be in bed, you shouldn’t be here. You didn’t fit in here. You needed a little cry as the clock struck midnight.

The bathroom was just as fancy as the rest of the building, but you didn’t think about that too much as you ripped some paper towel from around near the sinks, and practically fell on one of the ottomans. You heard the door Swing open behind you and tried to fix yourself enough for whoever it was to pass by without asking anything.

But then they sat down behind you, and a hand brushed your shoulder before running away again.

“What happened?” Of course it was her - someone ran from her party crying, she’d need to know what to fix so it wouldn’t happen again.

“It’s nothing.” She leaned back on one hand, sitting far enough away not to push the subject, but close enough to know she wanted to know. You sighed.

“I don’t really fit here.” you mumbled, picking at the paper in your hand. “It’s nice, and it looks really pretty, and I do really like it here, but it’s… I’m not…”

“It’s intimidating, I know.” she said, quietly nodding. For once, when you looked up at her, she wasn’t looking at you first. “It took Erwin half of our marriage for him to stop having to convince me to come to these parties - and they’re mostly my idea.”

She looked at you, and crossed one leg over the other.

“I know how you feel. I swear it.” She said, “And I also know that you’re very brave. I didn’t last half as long as you have at my first New Years party, and you don’t even have a husband to hide behind.” She tapped her fingers against the fabric of the seat, and you had half a mind to believe what she said - that someone so at ease now used to be as skittish and unsure as you.

“Thank you.” you breathed, feeling a little better, and using the paper to wipe away your ruined make-up. She watched as you composed yourself, smoothing down the front of your clothes and fixing your hair a little. You stood near one of the large mirrors, feeling a little overwhelmed still.

Her nose scrunched, and she tutted as she shook her head.

“Here,” she said, turning and reaching behind her neck, unclasping her necklace, “Try this on. Sometimes you need something flashy to hide behind.”

“Oh no, I -” But despite your protests she ignored you and pulled the shining crystals across your neck. They were still warm from where they once were on her. Shining against your skin, and you had to admit they looked even better when they were this close.

“They look like part of that Cartier necklace from the movie.” Your comment made her let out a breathy laugh.

“This is Swarovski, actually. Quite different.” She said, adjusting the gems so they sat flat. “They suit you.”

“I can’t wear it.” you protested. She shook her head, standing behind you in the mirror.

“You can keep it.” she said, insistent and stubborn, “It suits you. We’re supposed to all look fabulous in crystals - but I look better wearing pearls, you’d be doing me a favour.” Of course you would be.

You reached a hand up to graze the crystals - they did suit you, and somehow matched your outfit down to your earrings. You looked back at her, still stunning even without a centrepiece of her jewellery.

“What about you?” She raised an eye. What about me? ”You don’t have one anymore.” You explained, fiddling with one of the gems resting on your collarbone. She smiled, a smug cheekiness reached her eyes.

“It won’t matter, my husband will be quick to remedy the situation if it does.”

She’d let you through the door first, after you’d finished making yourself properly presentable again. What superied you - more than the rest of what had happened so far tonight - was how easily her hand slipped through to rest in the crook of your elbow. You found yourself not minding as much as you probably should have.

It was like she belonged there.

You could see in the eyes of the guests as you walked back into the room. They took you both in and waves passed over their faces.

It wasn’t pity or shock as they registered the fact you now had a necklace, and that she was missing hers. It was recognition, and for some certain ones - ones who knew they’d made some awful mistake in making you feel bad - dread.

It told everyone that you had someone watching your back - someone they didn’t want to have to find themselves facing if they were to try and get to you. It told you that you were going to be okay, that you had a friend - one that could be the best one to have on a night like this.

It helped you. Made you feel a little more important. A little more pretty. You guessed, from what she said, that half of belonging was looking the part.

The necklace wasn’t diamonds - they were crystals - but on the neck of someone so important it didn’t matter what they weren’t. It mattered what they looked like, what everyone would assume they would be.

No one would look twice at a string of gems on the neck of Mrs Smith, thinking they weren’t the Best. No one would look at you wearing her necklace thinking they were fake either.

She was right in saying that what you needed was something flashy to hide behind.

As the timer changed from minutes until seconds, you found yourself in a pleasant position. One you would’ve never guessed you’d be in. Ever.

You were still in the dining room - technically - but the windows separating it from the balcony had been pulled back and bunched together so you couldn’t tell when it started or stopped. A cool breeze cut through the room, diminishing the stuffy atmosphere and making way for a clean slate - a fresh start to a midnight new year.

Five.

Mrs Smith still had her fingers curled around your arm, but she’d latched onto Erwin on her other side. With all the people in the room, standing and sitting and dancing, you fit right by their side like a always-been-there friend. Like you belonged there.

Four.

You looked across at the groups of people, eyes catching on the same trio from before readying themselves for kisses and cheers. Them and others preparing to welcome a new start with every stereotype imaginable under the sun.

Three.

You watched Erwin lean down to whisper into his wife’s ear, she reflexively gripped you tighter as she giggled at his unknown words. You smiled even though you didn’t know what it was about, because it felt like the right thing to do.

Two.

2023 would come to an end with a cheer and flash of lights. With kisses and new beginnings. You knew, deep down, that this would be a better year. For the first time in a long time you felt that this year would be better.

One.

#nerwin #selfship fic #erwin smith x oc #new years fic #midnight post and pass out fic #marq asked where this was so i dumping it and then zoinking out #if ur seeing this marq good iob i hope u like it

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