#I will not commit marriage fraud

[athena-xiii]

America is on fire, might have to marry several friends to get them here, my fuckin shoulder is dislocated cus I sat weird—

But like at least the queen who taught me to bake is demolishing the frat boys of YouTube

[youn8ss-2]

people on tiktok are talking about marriages of convenience (something people have been trying to get away from) and calling them lavender marriage, i genuinely can’t tell you how much i hate this generation.

[mochlus]

we need to abolish borders to that all my internet friends can come and live with me without me needing to marry one of them for immigration purposes every 2 years. it's gonna take like 30 years to get all of them here at this rate

[daeluin]

@andlightplay you don't understand fake married for legal purposes is my favorite au and it would work so well for them. it's like that tiktok of the guy who married his buddy to get paid more at work? like pete's all like 'me and patrick we have been committing marriage fraud for years & we get paid so much more and i buy him nice things and i just have to tiptoe around the fact we're not gay' and someone goes 'well you can be married to a man without being gay' and he goes 'hey. fuck off. i love him. i love my husband a lot'

[clover-the-awesomest]

OMG OMG THERES MORE

she wants everything dead but she sneezes like a puppy so that evens out /j

[sgt-tombstone]

au where Johnny never joined the military (his knee got fucked up before he could and they wouldn’t let him enlist) but it’s okay because that means he got to go to college and study engineering, which is the closest he could get to being a civilian demolitions expert

Anyway, the city his college is in has an army base nearby, which means that every dating app he opens is flooded with army boys looking to marry the first person who so much as looks at them the right way. Johnny’s never been relationship-oriented; he likes hookups too much to settle down like that, but he loves scrolling through to drool over all of the gym pictures

And then one catches his eye. Simon. He doesn’t show his face on his profile, but his muscles more than make up for it. His appearance, though, isn’t what Johnny is most interested in, because his bio says…

Anyone interested in committing marriage fraud?

And that’s… something.

So of course Johnny swipes. He doesn’t expect to match, because Simon looks like a Greek God, and he almost throws his phone across the room when the little heart appears, telling him that he and Simon have both swiped on each other. Which means that Simon swiped on him first. It’s a heady feeling, but he’s not really sure why.

John: marriage fraud?

It’s not his strongest first message, but sue him, he’s curious.

Simon: I’m not interested in a relationship or even sex, but I have a very vested interest in being able to move off base

John: so, what? we get married and then…?

Simon: we don’t have to live together or even like each other. You can finish your studies, get the tax benefits, and live your life as you choose while I get to move off base and maintain my privacy

Honestly, it sounds like a win/win to Johnny. He’s not struggling financially per se, but being able to live exactly as he is while also gleaning tax benefits is… an attractive choice.

John: and if I meet someone else that I’m serious about?

Simon: I have no qualms about an uncontested divorce

John: let’s meet up for lunch and discuss the details

———

Lunch is a simple affair, just a local restaurant, frequented by students and soldiers alike, so they both fit in well. Simon is unfairly attractive, even if he only reveals the bottom half of his face to eat or drink. He’s massive and blond and his eyes do something to Johnny’s insides that he can’t bring himself to dissect further. They chat over their food, sharing details about themselves. Johnny shares more than Simon, and he has a hunch that that’s on purpose, but he doesn’t mind. They click instantly, and Johnny can tell that Simon is taken aback by that. It’s sweet, almost, the way that such a large military man is floundering in the face of genuine human connection. After they’ve finished, they turn to business.

With a quiet, deep voice, Simon lays out his entire plan, and Johnny is fully on board. He’s ready to sign the papers today, but they legally have to wait a month.

It’s the longest month of Johnny’s life.

They text constantly, or as constantly as they can. Sometimes Johnny feels inordinately young and sometimes very inferior; while he’s talking Simon’s ear off about some explosive compound used in building demolitions, Simon is off… doing god knows what, god knows where, serving the country. But Simon always listens, always sounds engaged over the phone when they call, always has follow-up questions that show he’s actually interested. And while Simon can’t talk much about his work, he can talk about details. Small stuff; the awful food, the hot dust where he’s stationed, the day-to-day activities that don’t give away too much. Johnny learns that he’s a lieutenant, a sniper (though that’s more through context clues than anything else), that he wears a mask all the time to protect himself, that he doesn’t like scrambled eggs (or at least, not military scrambled eggs), that he has a very complex skincare routine, that he respects the hell out of his captain. That he’s a good man, or tries to be. That he’s a sweetheart, deep down, despite trying to hide it.

They eventually get married, down at the courthouse, with Simon’s captain, Price, and Johnny’s best mate, Kyle, as witnesses.

And then life goes on. Johnny continues his studies, continues going to parties and hooking up with people every weekend, continues living his life. He assumes that Simon does the same. They keep in contact, for the most part, except when Simon’s in the field and he can’t have his phone, but he always brings back little inconsequential stories when he returns. It’s nice, in a way. They’d never exchanged rings, but sometimes Johnny wishes they had, just so he had something tangible to tie him to his husband.

I’m not sure how it would end, though…

Maybe it would be Sweet Home Alabama style, where Johnny finds someone that he thinks he loves and has to get Simon to sign the divorce papers, only to realize at the last minute that he really doesn’t want to, that he’s been in love with Simon all along

Maybe Simon gets medically discharged and ends up moving in with Johnny, where they both dance around their feelings for each other, despite already being married

Maybe they just… realize one day, that they’ve slowly but surely fallen in love with each other over the years and suddenly, nothing else matters because they’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for

[stayinlimbo]

We Become We

pairing: husband!lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, marriage of convenience, fluff, poor attempts at me trying to be funny, mc's gender is not specified word count: 1.02k note:  i am not dead yay. i tried my best since i haven't had time to write for almost a month so please take this as a peace offering ♡

Marriage. It’s an interesting concept, isn’t it? 

You’ve always thought so, at least. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

Yours happens to be a man named Lee Minho. The same man you’ve been friends with for as long as you can remember. The same man who asked you to marry him for a reason you didn’t get to learn until he was already down on one knee. 

(“I’m sorry, you want me to WHAT?” “Marry me. Please, I need health insurance.”

“Okay, yes, sure, whatever; now please get off the floor. People are staring.”)

Lee Minho, who, after dragging you to the courthouse and legally becoming your husband, finally elaborated on how his job would pay him more and cover both of your health insurances if he was married. So really, in his words, he was “doing you a huge favor” by marrying you. 

And, in all honesty, he really was. No, you didn’t have a ring to show off your new husband’s weird skill at finding loopholes in company policy, and you’re like thirty-five percent sure the two of you are committing some kind of marriage fraud, but does it really matter when you can finally start using the hot water in your dingy apartment without worrying if you’ll have enough money to fund your crippling caffeine addiction? The government will have to drag you kicking and screaming before you resort back to mankind’s cruelest form of torture: cold showers. 

Not to mention that marriage didn’t even change your relationship with Minho. And why would it? You’re still you, and he’s still him. He gets on your nerves just the same, maybe even a little bit more after he decided to frame your marriage certificate in his living room and send a photo to all your mutual friends. You’ll never forgive Minho for laughing at your helplessly panicked state when the group chat wouldn’t stop exploding with messages and incessant calls. 

You’re still his best friend that resides in his apartment four out of seven days of the week while he inhabits yours for the other three. Maybe that’s why, two weeks after your “wedding,” when it was time to renew your lease, Minho suggested with a simple shrug of his shoulders that you move in with him since “you’re here all the time anyway.” 

You’ve really got to learn how to say no to him because now you wake up next to your best friend/roommate/husband in his one bedroom, one bathroom apartment at the crack of dawn with a light pressure on your chest and fur in your face when his cats decide you need to wake up right now to feed them. 

Not to say you don’t like the new arrangement! No, that would be the furthest from the truth. 

Sure, you didn’t appreciate your skin care routine being interrupted by the unexpectedly high-pitched scream Minho let out when he saw you in a face mask for the first time, and what kind of person still has their phone’s brightness turned up all the way before bed? But who else would willingly tolerate your deliriousness before your morning coffee or indulge in your pleas to cook your favorite food three days in a row? 

Living with Minho has only made the purely platonic feelings you harbor for him grow stronger.

That’s what the fluttering in your chest means every time you see him, right? The reason for the smile that grows on your face when you hear the distinct jingling of keys at the front door?

Yeah, that must be why heat spread across your cheeks when he handed you his phone to text one of his friends back, because since when did the heart emoji make an appearance next to your pinned contact name?

You just care about each other, that’s all. It’s normal to want to make sure he arrived at work safely and ask how his day is going during your lunch breaks. It’s normal to start receiving back hugs before bed—a comforting weight as Minho’s chin rests on your shoulder while you apply the rest of the products to your face. 

It’s natural to have doubts about the nature of your relationship during an evening walk, acutely aware of his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you silently study his features illuminated by the soft glow of the scattered streetlights. What if he meets someone else and falls in love with them and wants a divorce and– oh. 

Has he always looked at you like that? With his gaze softening as it locks with yours? With the corners of lips lifting into the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen? With all the stars shining above you finding a second home in his eyes? A look so loving that it takes your breath away and you can’t tell if you’re about to laugh or cry in relief. 

And when you return home to get ready for bed, the familiar feeling of hands wrapping around your waist and a careful pressure resting by the crook of your neck quells the remnants of your worries.

It’s you and Minho. Minho and you, just as it always has been. Just as it’s always meant to be.

The distance between your bodies on the bed becomes nonexistent when you curl yourself into his side, laying your head on his shoulder and intertwining your legs with his as he immediately, unhesitantly, adjusts his arm, his fingertips finding purchase on exposed skin and roaming across the span of your back. A kiss to the top of your head is the last thing you feel before the gentle lull of breathing and the rise and fall of his chest begin to soothe you to sleep. 

…

Ah, marriage—what an interesting concept. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

You love your husband, and you’re beginning to think he loves you too. 

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

[sadesluvr]

The Bride — PART TWO.

PART ONE

Thad, yes, Thad (short for Thaddeus) went by the common name of Jude. He was one of those men with Roman numerals at the end of his name; the same kind who had summer houses and Fortune 500 companies, which was why your ‘marriage’ had made sense in the first place. Whilst you weren’t a millionaire, you came from a stable home with decent money, making you the perfect partner for someone like Jude. You’d met at college, and as soon as you’d graduated, he’d taken you home to his parents and popped the question.  

And being a foolish, naive little twenty-one-year-old...you said yes.  

Contrary to how these ordeals typically went, Jude wasn’t an old man – at least not biologically, his mentality was debatable - but two years older than you. As they often did, your relationship started off as a fairytale; with financial stability and relative freedom, at least until you found out that his fathers’ company – the place he’d one day inherit – had been moving donations from the children’s and elderly charities they sponsored and pocketed it for their own.  

This revelation came at a time when you’d also found that Jude had been screwing one of his secretaries...so naturally, you decided to blackmail him. 

Which turned into extortion.  

It wasn’t really your fault; it was an eye for an eye. So long as he added your name to his will – which he’d neglected to tell you he hadn’t done – no one would hear about the funds.  

He then retaliated with hiding assets, routinely checking wads of cash with a UV light for your fingerprints so you could be left without freedom. 

You responded with a car crash and insurance fraud in his name. 

It was this kind of push-pull, give-take, fucked up excuse of a relationship that continued for seven years, ultimately bringing you to Havana today. Jude’s 30th birthday, one set to be shared with both of your families - and his mistress of the week.  

Even throughout all your chaos and drama, you had never expected it to end in a murder. Luckily for you, you’d evolved to become someone who thought two steps ahead. Just how ‘coincidental’ had it been for you to receive an unexpected drink from a mysterious gentleman, only two weeks after you’d overheard a conversation between Jude and his friends? 

“She’s fucking crazy, man. Straight psycho. I don’t know how she got this way, but I don’t know how much longer I’ll put up with it.” 

“Be fucking serious, man. You’ll never leave her. She might leave you, but you won’t. For one, you like the attention, and for two there’s too much wrapped in it. Your parents like her, and imagine all that stress going through in changing those estate papers? The only way you get out of this looking good without her tearing you to shreds is if she dies, and you become the sad, grieving widow.” 

“…So you see my predicament?” 

Tangerine was frowning, his moustache comically pointing downwards as his eyes remained blank, trying to take in everything you’d said, whilst Lemon, equally shocked, was also somewhat impressed; a hand covering his face as he tapped his lips with his index finger. It was silent until Lemon spoke, stretching as he did. 

“So, you’ve single-handedly committed fraud, blackmail, theft and staged a car crash —“ 

“—Whilst shaggin’ a Cuban bellboy three times a boy three times a year.” 

“— Whilst shaggin’ a Cuban bellboy three times a year, but never went and offed this bastard yourself? What’s taking you so long?” 

“I don’t know how to use a gun.” You said earnestly, earning a nod of approval from the two men. It wasn’t a lie; just easier to say than the much larger, uncomfortable fact that you’d never really seen a way out of it all.  

The two men looked between each-other before glancing back down at the $20K. The money was there, and you’d presented a convincing enough argument – they just had to make sure there were no underlying risks. 

“And this husband of yours, he hasn’t got any hitmen or gangs around him has he?” Tangerine said, and you chuckled before vehemently shaking your head. “How do we know there ain’t a bounty on us if we don’t get his job done?” 

“I promise you, he’s just an ordinary white collar worker, nothing close to a Steve Jobs. You’d only have to worry about an enquiry, but I know a way of making this all spotless…Do we have a deal?” 

The Twins glanced at each-other again, with Tangerine raising a finger before dragging his brother around the corner, hands placed on his hips in frustration. Lemon looked behind him cautiously, his deep brown eyes painted with an inexplicable expression. 

“Right, now what do you make of all this, then?” 

“I think she’s a Mavis.” 

“Oh, fucking hell, Lemon —“ 

“No, no, no, hear me out on this one,” his brother interjected, raising a hand to silence him.

“Mavis is a Diesel, but she’s one of the good ones. Look, she starts off arrogant, feisty, a little naïve…but throughout time she matures and respects the other engines,” he said before nodding in your direction. “She got hitched at twenty-one, mate – maybe once we kill this fucker she can mature too. And hopefully go to therapy…” 

Tangerine shook his head, not because of the annoying tangent Lemon had taken, but the fact that it actually made sense. Running his tongue over his lips, he exhaled before taking out his phone and texting their handler, simply stating that ‘plans had changed’. 

“Right,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go bring her the good news.” 

When they returned you had opened the balcony doors, sat on the patio whilst indulging in another cigarette, staring out onto the streets of Havana. Couples walked hand in hand down the roads, whilst some men sat on the corners, laughing to themselves in the sunset and the dimming street lights, unbeknownst to the Shakespearean situation you’d found yourself in.  

Whether it was the buzz from the nicotine filled stick, or simply the fact that you’d become nothing but a black hole over the years, you were eerily calm; indulgent scenarios of Jude’s death playing in your mind like a movie.  

The two men – Lemon and Tangerine as you’d figured out – seemed decent enough, as decent as assassins could go, but you had no doubt that should your plan fall apart you’d be able to wriggle your way out of it. Because somehow, you always did. 

“Alright, love. Listen up,” Tangerine announced clapping and rubbing his hands together as he drew a seat opposite you, with Lemon leaning up against the balcony, arms folded over his chest. “We’ll do it. But we’ve got a few rules for ‘ya–“ 

“- We’re the professionals,”  Lemon interjected. “You can give us your ideas, but if we don’t like it, we ain’t doin’ it. Capeesh?” 

You nodded. 

“That’s right. If you fuck us over, or if we don’t get our money, your head is goin’ to be first on the chopping block, d’ya hear me? No second chances.” 

“Got it.” 

“And finally,” Lemon said ominously, walking over to you in his attempt to be intimidating. He was deadly, of course, but he didn’t have an inherent instability like Tangerine did. “You must never speak about this. If this shit blows up in our face, we don’t wanna see you crying on the news about ‘secret assassins’ n’ all that bullshit. We appreciate your discretion, yeah?” 

“I understand,” you hummed before rolling your eyes. “Why are you so convinced I’m going to turn on you? I hate my husband, and you’re practically giving me a way out.” 

“Well, I don’t know darling, maybe it’s got somethin’ to do with the fact that ‘yer first instinct was to blackmail ya husband when you found out he was cheating,” The moustached man said, raising his hands matter of factly. “Not knockin’ you darl’, it’s a good move, but you’ve got a pattern.” 

“You’re a Mavis.” 

“A who?” 

“Mavis from Thomas the Tank Engine. She’s a Diesel train, but she’s not like the others. You see, when she arrives in Sodor ��“ 

“Can we hold the Thomas talk for one second, Lemon?” Tangerine scoffed. “We’re talkin’ business here.” 

“No, no, I wanna hear this,” you said with a smirk, cocking a eyebrow as you leaned in and stumped out your cigarette. “Besides, it’s getting late. Can’t we figure this out in the morning?” 

The man opened his mouth to protest, but Lemon nodded in agreement. 

“Ignore him, love. He gets cranky when he hasn’t had a nap,” he said, and you covered your mouth to giggle, much to the chagrin of the man next to you. Lemon looked down at his watch. “It’s only 9PM. We’ve pulled all-nighters before; I don’t see why we can’t do it again...” 

The two of you made googly eyes at Tangerine, as if you were children asking their parents to stay up for an extra hour. He looked between you both, ultimately letting out a frustrated sigh before popping his collar. 

“Alright,” he huffed. “I’m goin’ to get a fuckin’ drink because I don’t have the patience to deal with you two babies. When I get back, we’re dealin’ with this arsehole, got it?” He finished with a sickly faux smile. 

“Is he always like this?” you murmured to Lemon. 

“He’s a Gordon, he has no choice.” 

“Fuck me...” the man grunted, shaking his head as he made his way towards the door, pretending to ignore each of your requests for a drink and some snacks, with you specifying that yours weren’t poisoned.

He breathed a sigh of relief once he reached the hallway, striding towards the stairs to the lobby and in the direction of the bar, fiddling with his clothes upon reaching the counter. It wasn’t often that he made alliances, but he couldn’t deny that you were promising – already possessing the art of manipulation and recklessness needed to be an assassin.  

Raising a finger, he ordered a drink with the bartender, making a mental note to stop by the lobby vending machine for Lemon’s items, before glancing around at the clientele.  

Some of them seemed to be well off, like you, whilst others seemed middle to working class, and the longer he looked around the more it became apparent to him that he was looking for someone – the nameless bellboy you’d hooked up with – only to find Jude himself, (he recognised him from the photos you’d shown them) sat across the bar with his mistress, laughing obnoxiously loudly. She wore a skimpy red dress, and if he hadn’t had known better, he would’ve considered her a sugar baby, prostitute, or somewhere in between. 

Squinting, he found himself fidgeting again as he watched the sordid scene in front of him, with the bastard probably thinking that his wife was hunched over, puking her guts out into a toilet before she inevitably keeled over and died. He normally didn’t care about interpersonal relationships – it wasn’t part of his job – but he knew enough about the man to know that he wasn’t worth saving...even if you yourself weren’t morally infallible.  

Perhaps that was the reason he was resisting the urge to beat the life out of him. Either that, or the fact that he wanted you. 

Grumbling to himself, he downed a glass of whiskey before lighting a cigarette, taking a long drag as held the nicotine in his lungs and puffing it out like a dragon. 

All was fine until the bastard himself decided to make a comment. 

“Hey -- You can’t smoke here, dude,” Jude said in his snotty American accent. “Have some respect for the lady.” 

Tangerine shrugged, plastering a fake smile onto his face.  

“My apologies, I didn’t realise you worked here, mate.” 

Jude winced, his mistress shifting uncomfortably in his arms.  

“I don’t, but I’m sure you can --” 

“Well, that settles it then, doesn’t it?” the man interjected, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.  “Bloody smart-arse, you are.” 

The woman clambered off him, watching as Jude became visibly more agitated, hands fidgety and eyes bulging. 

“They’re not good for you, anyway,” Jude continued, clearing his throat. “My ex-wife could barely pry herself from those things. No wonder she died.” 

Tangerine didn’t visibly react but found himself wholly amused at the fact that he was so confident to have thought you were dead already. Rigor mortis hadn’t even kicked in yet. 

“Yeah, well, if I had a partner that was anything like you, I’d smoke twelve packs a day fucking hoping that my lungs would dry up like ‘yer nan’s fanny,” he sniffed. “Fucking headache, trying to deal with you.” 

Jude winced.  

“I wouldn’t go there,” he said, his voice stern, but there was something in his stature that was rather unconvincing. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.” 

“Oh, I’m real scared. Fucking quaking,” Tangerine laughed. His hands itched to knock the life out of him, but knew that watching you slaughter him would be far more stimulating. “I pity you. You don’t even know what the fucks coming.” 

Slamming a note and a few coins on the table, he walked off without a second thought. It may have been one of the few times he walked away from a battle, but he was certainly not going to lose the war. 

PART THREE

Taglist: @mylatest-hyperfixation @thewizardcat @j23r23 (For commenting!🤍✨)

[crabbunch]

for @mcyt-aro-week - day 5 - flowers/wedding

"Etho," Bdubs says. "Should- should we get married?"

Etho blinks and sits up, moving his head out of Bdubs's lap. "What?"

"Well- hey, you didn't have to move," Bdubs pouts. "I mean, should we get married?"

"Why?" Etho says. He's not wearing his mask right now, and even with it on, he manages to expressive. He's obviously confused, which is weird, because Bdubs sort of thought...

"Well, you know," Bdubs laughs a little awkwardly as he rubs the back of his head. "It's- I mean, we're- I don't know! It just seems like something we could do."

It's hard to explain. He loves Etho. It's a deep, deep love, too, because Bdubs loves often and easily, and that's fine, he loves loving people, but Etho- Etho and him have been entangled with each other for so long that it's different. Bdubs knows Etho, and Etho knows Bdubs. Bdubs would do anything for a lot of people. He loves it. He loves them. But Etho...

Well. He's special. And maybe that kind of connection requires some kind of... marking. Celebration.

"I just kind of thought," Etho says. "That- um- marriage was for people in love."

"Bwuh- huh?" Bdubs says. "But- isn't that us?"

"What?" says Etho. "Um, no, I didn't think so..."

"Well, I do love you, you know," Bdubs says. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

Etho looks away, and a horrible dread rises up from Bdubs's stomach.

"But... um, you love me, right?" Bdubs says, voice wavering.

"Well, yeah!" Etho says. "Just- I mean, not in the get-married way."

"Oh," says Bdubs. "Oh! Well, that's fine. Okay!"

"Okay?" Etho chuckles, shoulders relaxing slightly with relief.

"Yeah, I was scared you were going to be like- oh, you've been hanging out with me for all this time, and you hated me for all of it, and were just too shy to say so. Wow!" Bdubs laughs. "So who would you want to get married to?"

"Um," says Etho. "I don't really know. No one, maybe."

"Oh!" Bdubs says. "So you- so if you're not saving your marriage for anyone, can we still do it?"

"Huh?" says Etho. "Oh, yeah, sure."

"Hey! You were so worked up about it earlier, and now you're just giving in!?" Bdubs says. "What's with that?"

"Huh? Well, if you're fine marrying someone who doesn't return your feelings, I'm fine with it," Etho says. "I like the idea of wedding presents."

"No, but-" Bdubs breaks off and grabs his face in his hands, frustrated. "It's not the hearts and kissing and stuff, because like, I wanna do that to you, but I don't care if you want to do it to me. It's just- you know me, yeah? And I know you. And that's the thing that I care about. That's the reciprocation."

"Oh," says Etho. He smiles. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I love you. Like that."

"So we can get married?" Bdubs says hopefully.

"Of course," Etho says. "Make sure you require people to bring gifts on the invitation, though."

"You got it," Bdubs promises him.

- - -

Neither of them wear white. Etho, who has about 20 copies of the same outfit and wears nothing else, wears the same outfit he always wears. Bdubs isn't really surprised.

Bdubs borrows one of Cleo's dresses and looks absolutely fabulous in it, even if he does keep tripping over the hem. They pinned it up for him, but it's still far too long- NOT because he's short. Because Cleo's a giant.

It's totally worth it though.

Scar officiates, which means that there's a 75% chance they aren't actually legally married, but Bdubs isn't too bothered about it. This is more for sentiment than anything else. Actually, it's probably a good thing if his finances aren't tied to Etho's, since he commits tax fraud. Etho doesn't take off his mask when they kiss, which kind of sucks, but is also par for the course. Joel monologues loudly to anyone who will listen about the deep bond he and Etho share.

"Congrats," Grian says, grinning like a shark as he downs what has to be his 12th glass of punch, seemingly unaffected by it. "You've got a nice hustle going on here."

"You-! You and Scar and Mumbo did the same thing last season!" Bdubs protests.

"Yeah, but we ended up meaning it," Grian says dismissively. "This? Well, I mean, maybe you mean something by it. Etho doesn't."

Bdubs chokes on his own cup of punch.

Back in the games-

Well. Bdubs tries to keep his lives separate, but it's hard when some of his closest allies don't even bother pretending like it never happened. Etho and Cleo are always rubbing it in his face, the jerks!

The point being- he doesn't like thinking about it, but back in the games, when Bdubs had been red for the umpteenth time and not quite desperate, he had thought-

"He loves me."

And everyone had laughed.

Because the thing was- it had been a little bit of a lie. Playing up the role. Leaning into the blind faith that had carried him that far. But the faith had been there, and it had gotten him that far, so-

Etho doesn't love easily, and when he does, it's a choice, fragile and thin-spun from familiarity and the thrill of trying to stay. It's a little different from the love Bdubs feels- even the platonic kind.

And. The thing had been. That Etho hadn't chosen to love him then. Or he had, but it hadn't been enough, or maybe it was never love at all and it was just- the knowledge that Bdubs was Bdubs and Etho was Etho and that they'd always find each other.

Etho plays into the roles he's given, just like Bdubs. He's a little more subtle about it, sure, but Joel decides that they're soulmates and Etho plays along. Gem decides that he's washed up and he plays along. Cleo decides that they're divorced and he plays along.

Bdubs says, he loves me, and Etho lets him die.

That's how he knows there's something more than Etho just playing along there.

"Well, you think what you want," Bdubs says dismissively, and wanders off. It doesn't matter if Grian knows that he and Etho have stumbled into something a little different than love.

"Bdubs!" Etho shouts, waving him over to the gift table. "Look what Skizz got us!"

"A crockpot?" Bdubs squints.

"An essential for any newly-wed couple," Skizz says sagely.

"Well, if you say so," Bdubs says, and sits down next to Etho to help him unwrap presents.

[writing-zelda-brainrots]

I 1000% believe that Legend and Ravio got married for tax benefits.

--

[Name]: Legend, it says here that you have been "activity committing marriage fraud for money." What exactly is "marriage fraud?"

Legend: At my job , if you're married, you get paid significantly more money. So, me and one of my buddies decided to just get married. And now I make a bunch of money and I buy him nice things sometimes and it all works out good for the both of us. At work I kinda have to tip toe around the fact that I'm not gay.

[Name]: Well, Legend, I have news for you. If you and your "buddy" are legally married there is no fraud being taken place. You don't have to be gay to be married to a man. You- I mean, you did it.

Legend: I love him, also. I love my husband a lot.

--

[knightwithakay]

we’ve had a lot of Life Stuff happening recently but there’s a joyful power in being People Who Are Getting Married. sheer mention of the wedding invokes delight. every middle aged woman I know is over the moon. random lady in the town clerk’s office saw us swear we weren’t committing fraud for the marriage certificate and said, unprompted, “I was having the WORST day and now it’s such a GOOD ONE. have a wonderful life!” and then we paid our 70 bucks and left

[zackprincebooks]

Father Ardelian: Wow, Lord Vane is so pleasant and gorgeo--I mean generous! I'm sure nothing untoward will happen to me while I'm at Whithern Hall.

Lord Vane, holding a ceremonial knife over a pagan sacrificial altar underground: what

Sarah, with her corkboard full of red string: Lord Rufus has been alive since the Wars of the Roses and the entire Rufus lineage has been swapping places over the past four hundred years to commit vampire fraud and I've been trapped into marriage with him for some sinister reason so if you find this letter I'm already dead

Lord Rufus, spending hours painstakingly painting a portrait of Sarah as a Renaissance saint: what

[bluestrawberrybunny]

Well I'll be damned

Mr. Puzzles: Smg3, it says here you've been "actively committing marriage fraud" for money. What exactly is "marriage fraud"???

Smg3: At my job, if you're married, you get significantly more money, so me and one of my buddy's (Smg4) decided to just.. Get married, and I make a lot of money, and I buy him gifts sometimes and it all works out.. Good for the both of us. Yea at work, I kinda have to tip-toe around the fact that I'm not gay..

Mr. Puzzles: Well Three, I-I have news for you, if you and your buddy are legally married, there is no fraud being taken place... You don't have to be gay to marry a man, it's just- you did it!

Smg3:... I love him also.

Mr. Puzzles:...

Smg3: I love my husband a lot :)

SMG3 just wanted an excuse. Pansexual ass /silly

[wearethewinx]

I SAID I wanted to talk about Aisha:

It's been theorized that Aisha doesn't want to be a princess. I strongly disagree. She takes her role as the princess of Andros extremely seriously, and imo she clearly WANTS to be a good ruler. Yes, she snuck out to dance sometimes and refused her arranged marriage, but that NEVER stopped her from doing her Princess Duties, and she doesn't have baggage around the decorum of her station. She deploys it effortlessly when beneficial and takes it off just as easily. She drops everything at a moment's notice to return to Andros at the slightest sign of trouble to Be Their Princess

She is DEVOTED and LOYAL. Like, maybe the most of all the winx? She knew Flora for like, a week, and that was enough friendship currency for her to BREAK INTO HELIA'S ROOM AND PAW THROUGH HIS SHIT. Yeah Stella committed identity fraud for Bloom on day 1, but that's Stella. Aisha is responsible! Considers her actions carefully! EXCEPT when a friend needs a favor

That devotion includes her parents. Aisha's respect for her mother is paramount, even after the betrothal fiasco, and that's not just a passive thing. She proudly says "source: my mother told me and she's NEVER wrong" in class. I really wish we got to see more of Aisha's relationship with her parents

She knows a lot about poetry and speaks many languages. Again, I just wish we saw more of this

Basically homeschooled

Her royal education doesn't seem to include magic? Which is SUPER interesting to me. Every other princess we meet except Diaspro is canonically some kind of magic student, but Aisha seems self-taught. While every other princess in the magic dimension is learning to be a fairy or sorceress, the princess of Andros is learning diplomacy, fencing, languages, poetry, dancing, etiquette. That says a lot about Androssi royalty!

She's gentle

GENUINELY KIND OF A MAN HATER

I feel like Aisha is often flattened as 'the strong one' (and I do have personal beef w/ how people incorporate that into her design- she's sporty, not a bodybuilder. Dancing, motorcycling, and surfing are not activities that lend themselves to big bulky biceps!!) and I really think that's a boring disservice to her. IMO she's the sort of person who would really appreciate and treasure little friendship tokens, and spend a lot of time just. Trying to do nice things for the winx, and solve their problems. She treasures quiet time spent together.

Helia loving her (despite Aisha thinking he's a loser) because she knows a lot of philosophy and has a good command over her Vibes. Her and Brandon Doing Sports together bc the other Winx aren't interested and the other specialists annoy her too much, and them becoming catty frenemies. Aisha knowing about the history of Domino and the legend of the Dragon Fire, and bonding with Bloom over it. Bloom drawing a picture of the Winx together and Aisha keeping it forever. Aisha still being scared of the dark and Stella giving her a magical light. Musa helping Aisha plan something special to celebrate the Day of the Rose. Tecna Musa and Aisha bonding over the difficulty they have being openly emotional. Flora and Aisha fretting over eachother's well-being and bonding over their shared sense of responsibility to their families

[llamaisllama777]

OH, THEY SCARED TO POOP OUT OF ME!

This episode was actually super cute. I'm glad we finally got confirmation on what crimes Monty has committed and which ones he hasn't.

Crimes Monty HAS committed...

-Tax evasion

-Tax fruad

-Gun running

-illegal arms dealing

-Murder (Who he killed, we don't know?)

-Technically brainwashing for what he did to Foxy

-Improper use of magic and star power

List of crimes Monty HASN'T committed

-G=noc!de (Thank gosh!)

- Marriage fraud. (It was a joke that got way out of hand. Also, he was drunk.)

-Other crimes I can't remember.

_______________________________

This episode really shows how much Monty has grown and how much Monty and Earth love each other... (It also shows how desperate Miku is and how badly I want to strangle her.)

Monty does want to be a better person. He wants to change it's a very VERY slow process, but he is changing for the better. He admits he did a lot of bad things and regrets those things. He actually regrets his actions. Wow.

Monty does really want to change, and that's important he's trying that's all we can really do. Try.

It doesn't excuse his actions. I don't get me wrong it doesn't, but he wants to be better.

I'm glad Monty and Earth got together. They're super cute, and I'm a massive fan of the opposites attract trope.

Earth is nice, calm, and non-violent, while Monty can be mean, rash, and very violent, but at the end of the day, they love each other a lot and that's super cute.

Also, Earth, you are borderline a saint for putting up with Monty and all his crimes. Bless your little metal heart Earth.

I love this ship so much, and I'm so thankful they didn't break up. Thank you, God. (Seriously, I was scared they were gonna break up.)

[kaurwreck]

If you want can you post your skk hcs? I was rereading you fanfic snippets of them and just wanted to know what you try to add in when writing them?

ty for asking about my skk headcanons! i'll share the ones that you can nearly always presume to be "canon" in the fics I write.

Chuuya has a vulva + internal reproductive organs, but with so few memories prior to the Sheep, he doesn't recall having an assigned gender divergent from his own and has always known himself to be a boychild. He's rarely been prompted to think anything of it: the Sheep didn't make a fuss when he started menstruating, although Shirase did defer to Yuan to teach him how to manage it once they realized; Mori educated him on his options once Mori became aware but was otherwise unfazed and had forged Chuuya's koseki anyway; etc., etc. Which isn't to say Chuuya doesn't pursue and receive gender affirming care, only that he's both self-assured in his own and rather naive regarding matters of gender and sexuality. (i.e., insofar as trans is a useful framework here, he's trans.)

Dazai is ashamed of his sexual attraction. Not in his sexuality (as in preferences), but he thinks his sexual attraction is, generally, an imposition and a vulgar burden he thrusts onto others. This doesn't stop him from feeling it and pursuing others. It's just one of the many contours of his self-loathing.

Dazai and Chuuya weren't completely no-contact for those four years, but they talk about it as if they were.

Chuuya has a Port Mafia-subsidized penthouse with an aboveground wine cellar. He still frequents the Agency dorms; he doesn't like Dazai snooping around and making messes in his penthouse. Or stealing his wine and wine paraphernalia for wine fraud, which happens sometimes and has, previously, fucked with the integrity of Chuuya's cache of Romanée Conti vintages.

Chuuya is a workaholic and very driven in his commitment to his organization. Dazai cherishes and serves at the leisure of the hand that feeds him but isn't. Quite as career oriented as Chuuya.

Both are polyamorous more or less. But exceedingly possessive of the other in hyperspecific, sometimes toxic ways.

Chuuya has extensive irezumi beneath his clothes, much of which memorializes his loved ones. (Including Dazai, but most everyone knows better than to acknowledge those pieces.) Dazai, meanwhile, doesn't have any tattoos; he can't tolerate the needles (whether hand or electric). Dazai will join Chuuya during his sessions, though, if only to bother him in ways Chuuya can't do anything about while being tattooed.

They don't negotiate anything, which is usually fine. They work it out one way or another when it's not.

They have several intricate rituals to navigate around each other's severe intimacy issues.

While they were both in the Port Mafia, there was a strict mandate against Dazai riding passenger on Chuuya's motorcycle. Enforceable by any member of the organization regardless of rank.

They're technically legally married under Dazai's birth identity (Shuuji Tsushima); that's also the identity with which Chuuya has a joint bank account and multiple tax fraud schemes (in which Akutagawa and Gin are also implicated as dependents), among other things. (Note: I've unilaterally decided Japan recognizes same sex marriage in bsd-verse, especially given the plethora of anachronistic, fictitious, and quirky policies, ministries, levers of governance, etc. canonical to bsd-verse that preclude the canonical existence of several of Japan's current irl legal institutions, including its constitution as amended.)