#THE TENSION??? THE BANTER???

[lightvixxen]

okay but Photographer!best friend!Eddie??? who just happens to be a boudoir photographer??DO YALL SEE THE VISION????

[sad-scarred-sassy]

You are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad

For @elucienweekofficial Day 7: Tension/Healing

I wanted to illustrate a bit of what I think their banter will look like. I think Lucien’s rakish charm will drive Elain mad (in the best way).

Enjoy the little comic of Elain trying to stay mad at Lucien but getting a bit distracted by his lips🫦

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Good Morning, World.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[aventurineswife]

Could I request Aventurine with a reader who is just as lucky as he is? He always takes them out gambling together just for funsies. Unfortunately, reader is a very attractive person as catches the interest of many greedy people who want to use them.

Fortune’s Most Favored

Summary: Aventurine and his equally lucky partner revel in their shared thrill for risk and cunning. But their magnetic charm attracts more than admiration—it draws the attention of those who seek to exploit. When a greedy stranger tries to claim what isn’t theirs, Aventurine's protective side surfaces, revealing the depth of his feelings. Beneath the glitz and games, the duo realizes that the real stakes aren’t just in cards or chips but in guarding what truly matters: each other.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Gambling themes, Protective Aventurine, Lucky!Reader, Fluff with a touch of tension, Power couple dynamics, Subtle romance, Quick-witted banter.

Warnings: Brief mentions of possessive/greedy characters, Slight tension with implied threats, Gambling themes.

The casino was alive with the music of clinking chips, spinning wheels, and the occasional exclamation of victory or defeat. Amidst the chaos, Aventurine lounged at a high-stakes table, his signature grin playing on his lips. Seated beside him, you flicked a card toward the dealer with practiced ease, the polished surface of the Queen of Hearts gleaming under the chandelier's light.

Another victory for you.

"Impressive as always," Aventurine purred, leaning back in his chair. His eyes sparkled with genuine amusement, though there was a flicker of something deeper—a quiet appreciation he rarely allowed to surface. "You know, darling, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to outshine me."

You smirked, gathering your winnings with nimble fingers. "If I were, you'd already be in my shadow."

The table erupted in laughter, though it was half-nervous. There was a tension in the air, a mix of awe and envy from the onlookers. You and Aventurine were a pair that commanded attention, a duet of charisma and skill that turned every casino floor into your personal stage.

But tonight, it wasn’t just admiration that followed you.

The first sign something was off came as you moved to another table, Aventurine by your side. A man with a sharp suit and sharper eyes approached, his expression a mix of feigned charm and unspoken malice. His gaze lingered on you, a little too long to be polite.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked smoothly, though his question was directed solely at you.

Aventurine's smile never wavered, but the subtle shift in his posture—leaning slightly forward, one hand resting near his choker—was a silent warning.

"Funny thing about luck," Aventurine said, cutting through the man's attempt at conversation. "It doesn’t take kindly to vultures."

The man’s smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. "I was just admiring your… partner’s skill. Surely someone of their caliber attracts all kinds of attention."

"And yet," Aventurine countered, his tone velvet-soft but razor-sharp, "only the dullest sorts think they can buy or bully their way into good company."

The man’s expression hardened, but before he could respond, you spoke up.

"I don’t think you’d enjoy playing at our table," you said lightly, your voice carrying a chill that belied your calm demeanor. "The stakes tend to get… dangerous."

The man hesitated, eyes flickering between you and Aventurine. Then, with a forced chuckle, he backed off, muttering something about finding another game.

Later, as you and Aventurine stood on the casino’s balcony, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the stuffy heat inside, he turned to you with an unreadable expression.

"Attractive and lucky," he mused, leaning against the railing. "A dangerous combination."

You rolled your eyes. "Jealous?"

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Hardly. If anything, I’m relieved. It means I have someone who can keep up with me."

There was a pause, the kind that carried unspoken words. You met his gaze, and for a moment, his mask slipped. Beneath the flamboyant charm and the calculated confidence, you saw something raw—an unguarded flicker of protectiveness and longing.

"You know," he said softly, "the world isn’t kind to people like us. Greedy hands and jealous hearts are always waiting to take what they can’t earn." He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "But I’ll be damned if I let anyone take you."

You smiled, leaning into his touch. "You’d have to fight me for me first."

He laughed, the sound lighter this time, free of the weight he so often carried. "Oh, darling," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, "that’s a gamble I’d gladly lose."

And as the city lights sparkled below, you realized that with Aventurine, every high-stakes game was worth playing—as long as he was by your side.

[recsspecs]

Anthony going from a man with apathy to drowning in emotions is the kind of leap I want in my reality. 0-100 super quick

[midnight-mourning]

Sneaky Santa

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 10❄️❄️

cooked this up last night for y'all, but waited to post to make sure it was actually coherent lmao, anywho, hope you enjoy! Edit: reviewed this morning and chat 2 am midnight was cookinggg

Prompt: ok ok i have a pretty vague idea that i really love. y/n would be a burglar who breaks into the pizzaplex on christmas eve/day (cos no one wants to work at christmas time, so there should be minimal security, right?..). but they quickly sense they are not alone and dca interaction ensues :') i feel like you could go different ways with this, full chase sequence, or just witty banter with the dca. you can play with around the y/n's motives for committing theft/breaking in. i'd love to see what you cook up :D

Word Count: 2630

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The side door opens with a click, and as it creaks ajar, you can't help the grin that splits your face. Success, and after 15 minutes of fumbling in the cold, you're more than happy to finally get inside. And get to work, for that matter. 

You shove your kit back into your pocket, and adjust your mask. Slinking inside, it's as quiet and dead as you hoped. Even the cameras, which you'd think they'd bother to power on for this very reason, don't seem to be active. All the better for you, really. 

Still, you proceed with caution, while the place is more than dead in terms of human staff, there are some bots lingering about. From the last time you were in here you think they were just called S.T.A.F.F. bots? Doesn't matter, you didn't need to take any chances. 

You keep to the shadowy parts of the building, making your way to your first stop; Chica's gift shop. You make quick work, grabbing the limited edition kids jewelry set, and a plush or two for good measure. You make similar stops throughout, a makeup set and costume from Roxy's, a gator golf mini club set, a microphone signed by Freddy himself. Not to mention again, anything else you can grab your hands on. 

You wanted this trip to count, if you were going to be doing something illegal, might as well go all out, yeah? 

You won't deny, it had been a bit of an inner conflict for you at first. You had morals, stealing was wrong and all that jazz. However, stealing from a multi-million dollar corporation who wouldn't even notice the teeny-tiny little dent you've made in their merchandise? Yes, still wrong, but surely not nearly as bad. At least, that's what you tell yourself. 

You glance briefly at the list in your hand, and the map in the other, as you chow down on a cupcake you swiped earlier. You're sitting on a railing overlooking the atrium, the area quiet enough to not draw any attention. Though, still so far so good from what you've been able to tell.

None of the main attractions have been out and about, and if you had to guess, they were either doing their own thing in their rooms—which, an odd but endearing thought to have—or they were simply powered down to conserve energy over the holidays. Regardless, you're able to check off the locations on your map, and the items on your list in an easy peace. 

As luck would have it, you're well ahead of schedule. Only an hour or so in and you're already down to your last location. Circled in red marker and starred; Lucky Stars Gift Shop. 

You'd saved it for last because it was one of the trickier ones to get to. But, with how easy the rest of the night has been, you'd argue it's well worth the risk at this point. While your haul was more than enough, you knew that if you could score there, you'd be set. 

So, finishing your cupcake with a wipe of your shirt sleeve, your off. 

When you arrive, much like all the other locations, the door is thankfully unlocked. You slip inside, and set to work. You were looking once more for a specific item in particular, in this case as set of pajamas. Smalls, along with a pair of matching nightlights if you could find them. 

You find the pjs soon enough, stuffing them in with the rest of your haul. It was starting to get heavy now, and you truly looked the part of a burglar with your big canvas sack. To be fair, it wasn't like you could fit all this in your backpack. Even though you'd foolishly considered it for a brief moment. 

The nightlights are a harder find, not anywhere within easy sight among the toys and stuffies scattered throughout the darkened shop. To be safe though, you swipe a few of those as well. 

You finally spot your prize while doing a sweep over the entire place, both set up on a high shelf behind the counter. You puff out your cheeks, of course they just had to be there of all places.

You shake your head, no matter. You weren't leaving without those nightlights. Especially after catching the sight of the price when trying to order online. Just for merch for the Daycare Attendant of all things. 

Setting down your bag, you start to climb onto the counter, swaying slightly in your rush. You lean over the gap behind the counter and the shelf, finding that you just barely can't reach.

You grit your teeth, and lean further, doing your best to keep your feet steady. When your hand makes contact with a box, you internally cheer. Quickly, you grip it, and the other while you're at it. 

You struggle to contain your excitement, giggling to yourself as you step fully back onto the counter with your goods. 

"Well now, what do we have here?"

"Something of a thief, by the looks of it." The voice turns darker, chuckling. "And not a very clever one, at that."

You freeze then, but keep calm. You were too close now. You weren't expecting any guards at this point, but certainly you could handle these two, you've come too far to not try, anyway. 

You turn, tone smooth. "Well, that's not very nice. I think I've been doing pretty good so far—" The words die on your tongue when you realize that the person behind you are in fact, one bot. One of the very bots that strongly resembled the ceramic copies in your hands.

The blue and white animatronic tilts his head at you, red eyes narrowed. Moon, from what you already know.

"You were saying?" He asks. 

Initial shock gone, you shake your head, huffing as you hop down from the counter. "I believe I've done pretty well so far, not to toot my own horn or anything. And with these, I'll be more than happy to get out of your hair. Or, whatever the equivalent is for you, I suppose." You stuff the nightlights in your bag, head held high. 

"Is that so? You'll just walk on out of here, without a bit of confrontation or trouble?" The naptime attendant sounds more amused than anything, so you'll keep trying your luck. 

You shrug. "Well yes, I really would rather not be a burden on you. Would hate to be the cause of disruption so close to the holidays. Consider it a gesture of the heart." You put your hand to your chest, bowing slightly. 

"Gesture of the heart—" Moon laughs then, hard. 

You take the chance to slip by him, crossing your arms as you lean against a clothes rack. "Something the matter? I'll have you know I mean what I say, especially to a pretty face."

"A pretty, pretty face?" He asks between chuckles. The bot pretends to wipe a tear. "My, you're a curious little thief aren't you?"

You wink. "I like to keep things exciting. No need for unnecessary tension and all that, you know? And if I wasn't on the job, well, I'd be using more than just my words, let's say that."

You're almost to the door now, hand ghosting over the handle. If you can get a head start, you'll surely make it. Unfortunately, you're not so lucky. 

"Well, I'm afraid to disappoint, but I believe tension is all I have to offer, you Star. I hope you'll understand."

You keep your eyes locked on each other for a moment more. Then, as he launches toward you, you rip open the door, running out into the light again. 

As you're running, you hear a voice call out behind you. "What? You're not going to try to woo me too? Am I good enough for you, Sunshine?"

"Of course you are!" You say back. "I just figured a change of scenery would do us some good, is all."

You find you have no other choice but to enter the Daycare itself. Certainly not your favorite option, but you can hear the playtime attendant gaining on your fast. You'll have to fake him out in here and hope for the best. 

He chuckles. "How kind of you! So tell me, what's convinced you this was a good idea, friend? You have me oh so curious."

"Ah, I wouldn't want to bore you with all the details." You wave your hand, then jump to climb one of the playset walls. "That's much less fun. Instead, tell me about yourself? You come here often?"

You hear him close behind, just missing at swiping your leg in his grasp. "Well, I live here, so as it would turn out, yes! You seem too familiar with the layout yourself, Starshine."

"What makes you think that?" You scoff. Though, you can't say he's wrong, you're just hoping the mask is enough to keep your identity a secret. Would hate to be banned now. 

You stare down at him, head in your hands as Sun stares up at you, rays flicking and eyes narrowed. "We got a peak at your little collection. You're well aware of what's the priciest items here! That's something that takes time, and planning."

"Aw, why thank you! If I wasn't preoccupied, I would return that compliment with more than just verbal appreciation."

He leans against the playset, gaze focused on you. "You could always try."

You grin, and for the briefest of seconds consider the offer, then shake your head. 

"Ah, I would. But I've got no guarantees it won't turn sour, in the end." You tsk drearily. "I'm afraid our love must stay as it is. Treasured from afar in secrecy. Surely you understand, no?"

 Sun nods, hand going to his faceplate just as dramatically. "Oh course, how foolish of me to consider such. If only—Hey! That's cheating!"

You snicker to yourself as you race across the playset. "I'm sorry, my dear! But time is of the essence. Perhaps another time I can listen to your sweet nothings—"

You slip, foot catching the wrong side of the plastic bridge. Your eyes widen as you begin to fall, then squeeze shut as you brace for impact. 

It doesn't come, instead, you find yourself in a reassuring grip. Peeking an eye open, you find Sun staring down at you, concern evident in his eyes. 

Your breathing is heavy as you wait for him to do something, anything. 

"I know those eyes." He says in the quiet. "It's you."

Ah, shit. 

In a state of utter defeat, and total shock, you wind up bound in a spare set of jump ropes, sat in one of the tiny chairs for good measure. 

Meanwhile, Sun is pacing the back and forth in front of you, speaking in a one-sided conversation to his counterpart. 

"But why, surely there's no reason for them to have been—"

"I know, I know. It's wrong, but that doesn't, no, no you're right."

"What if we, it might work. I just don't want to—" He turns to stare at you, then shakes his head.

You sigh. This blows. You'd spent so long planning this out, and now you're about to lose everything. Unless, you can convince them that you really meant no major harm. 

"Listen. I know this looks, bad. But I can explain!"

The bot turns to you then, curious, but suspicious. You don't blame him. 

Your head hangs low, guilt sinking in in that moment. "Look, money's tight. Really tight. Why do you think I come here to get daycare services? It's dirt cheap, you know. And, and the kids were just so excited for Christmas this year, I saw an opportunity and I just,"—You shake your head—"I'm not proud, at all. I just, wanted to give them something nice, you know? That's the honest truth. So, before you turn me in, please, just give me a chance. You can take everything back, but please let me walk out of here tonight. I, I won't come back, I'll find other arrangements, just please, please don't tell anyone about this."

You wait for him to start laughing at you, you expect it even. Even if it was the truth, it was still a ridiculous notion. All this for the sake of some toys? God, imagine what the cops are going to say when the get a load of this—

The jump ropes keeping you tied up suddenly loosen. 

Looking up, you see Sun's gaze is on you, unreadable in that moment. Then, he hands you your sack, and your backpack, and points to the door. 

"I, you're, you're letting me... really?" You're more than surprised, you're flabbergasted. 

He nods, helping you to stand. "I believe you, we both do. We've seen how much your care for them, and we understand. To a point, that is. Now hurry along, before it gets too late."

"I, I don't know what to say..."

Sun chuckles. "I think you'll be better off not worrying about your words for once, Sunbeam."

"Still, I just,"—you shake your head, and in a brief moment of unthinking, wrap your arms around the bot in a hug—"I mean it, thank you."

He stiffens, but returns the gesture. 

You pull away after a moment, slinging your bags back over your shoulders. "You know, if I'm not banned, we should um, do this again sometime. In a more, legal setting."

"O-oh?"

You smirk. "Yeah. What? I told you, I mean what I say."

You turn then, heading for the door before they change their mind. Though based on Sun's last words to you, you doubt that.

"We'd like that!" He calls, and for some reason, the sincerity of it makes you blush under your mask. 

Sure enough, when you discover that Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Plex is hiring, in Superstar Daycare no less, you find yourself easily able to fulfill that promise. 

"Almost ready for naptime, Starshine?" Sun asks as he comes up to where you stand leaning against the security desk.

You nod. "I am, but are you?"

"What makes you say that?" He asks, tone anything but innocent.

You tsk. "You've not been subtle today, Sunny. I can tell when someone wants to kiss me, it's my sixth sense, so to say."

"Just like how lock picking, bribery, pick-pocketing, and seduction~ are also your sixth sense?" He asks, leaning down to your height.

Your cheeks heat up, and you cough. "Of course."

Sun chuckles, closing the gap between the two of you with a brief peck. You are on the clock, after all. 

When he pulls away, flicking the lights off, you find Moon staring down at you with that same look. 

You huff, smile on your lips. "Let me guess, you want a turn now too?"

"Of course not." His hand cups your face with a tsk. "Could you think so little of me?"

You grin as he bends down further.

He shakes his head slightly, "No, I think I'll take a bit more than just one simple kiss."

"One not good enough for you?" You question. 

"Not for all the trouble you've been. I think at least three kisses are in order, to make up for it, don't you?"

Your arms wrap around his neck with a giggle. "Well, I certainly won't protest."

You meet somewhere in the middle, and just like you always do these days, find yourself grateful to your previous self for the, really, quite stupid idea of trying to break into the plex the night of Christmas Eve. 

Because sometimes bad ideas can have good outcomes, and this was a clear sign of that. 

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Thank you for the request @soupdweller!! Was a very fun little idea that I MAY have gotten carried away with hehe (i see the word banter and HAVE to go all out yk?), hope you had as much fun as I did :)

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[scootkiddo]

I sympathize with arthur for a myriad of reasons but one of them was that he couldn’t get out of his own way when it came to dutch’s fall from grace before it was too late.

from the very beginning he was skeptical when it came to dutch’s plans, when it came to comparing the pragmatism behind said plans to the improbability of them taking shape. arthur wasn’t necessarily vocal when it came to his doubts towards dutch himself, but he found his outlets in john or other gang members to voice his concern. over what happened in blackwater. over the grandeur of his aspirations to unearth some kind of safe haven or paradise where they could disappear from civilization.

post-the trolley mission in saint denis is where arthur risks putting his hand on the stove. it’s from here on out that dutch’s composure begins to rattle, where he begins to snuff out doubt and shoot accusations. when the whole revenge plot on bronte brews arthur’s own kind of doubt, he communicates it. and not only does dutch double down on the defense, he retrofits the doubt to target arthur right back. he guilt-trips, gaslights— he does everything within his discernible power to make arthur feel bad about lacking “faith” in the man that raised him & brought him up.

arthur backpedals and basically rolls over on his belly bc…what else is he equipped to do? how could he place doubt in his mentor? the one that took him in, the one that taught him most of everything he knows? the co-dependency is what gives arthur an achilles’. it’s not that arthur can’t see the woods for the trees; he sees them most vividly. but he struggles to look at dutch’s behavior and see if it lines up with the persona he’s once projected. instinctually he sees the red flags. instinctually he hears the alarms bell sounding out dutch’s moral and ethical decadence. but he doesn’t have the toolset to navigate the space for challenging dutch’s mindset.

dutch taught arthur everything except to keep him in check

[that-rackin-frackin-varmint]

A apt distinction between Dafpork and Baffy (followed by a long ramble)

Since the looney tunes show era, it's not uncommon for looney tunes fans and even modern looney tunes to define Daffy and Porky's dynamic to be of the bully and doormat variant. Doesn't help when the latter half of the classic looney tunes shorts assert Daffy to be dull but domineering, and Porky to be competent but meek.

I don't reject these portrayals, but I do find it reductive to reduce Porky's aptitude for hubris, or Daffy's capacity for emotional intelligence... sometimes intelligence, period. Especially when people write them in comparison to how they write Baffy's dynamic.

So, here's a comic strip that encapsulates both Dafpork and Baffy's dynamics in a way that helps me summarise my points. The premise is the same for both: Daffy tells the latter a joke.

Here, Daffy tells a harmless (albeit flirtatious) joke. And Porky responds by crushing his trash can over Daffy's head and remarking on the quality of his humor.

As best friends, this is their normal -- usually Daffy initiates by tormenting Porky, and Porky will retaliate (sometimes dishing out more than Daffy may have earned). Other times Porky initiates and Daffy responds accordingly. This is how they banter.

Now let's move onto Baffy.

Here, Daffy tells a joke, and Bugs seems all too familiarised to his antics. Then Daffy pushes for a compromise, Bugs gives in. And then Daffy makes him regret the decision.

As best friends, this is their normal -- Daffy initiates by tormenting Bugs, Bugs anticipates this and usually shuts him down. Daffy pleads with Bugs to humor him, Bugs allows it, and then immediately regrets it (to varying degrees of legitimacy).

This is to say:

Porky can fall into the trap of being a doormat, but when it comes to Daffy, is a lot more emotionally volatile to the point of explosive anger. They're also very good at playing to their roles in relation to each other, making their interactions in shorts snappy, varied, unpredictable and hilarious.

Bugs is more attuned to psychological warfare and mind games, but has a track record of giving into Daffy's whims against his better judgment. He also has shown/admitted many times that he has a soft spot for Daffy, which makes their shorts carry this level of unspoken familiarity that is rarely found in classic looney tunes.

In the shorts, Dafpork operate like the duo that click the moment they clock each other, while Baffy operate like the duo with undisclosed history. Which I find super interesting when in terms of chronology, it should technically be the other way around since Dafpork shorts are greater in bulk and came way earlier before Baffy.

All this goes to show that truly, in my heart of hearts, Porky is NOT as soft-hearted as modern looney tunes media may have you believe. And Bugs has an understated weakness to pitiable pleas from sensitive birds.

[chaotic-trav]

Merthur is what bakudeku wishes it could be . I said what I said

[ap-kinda-lit]

The way this is so InuKag core

((clip from Immortal Demon Slayer: Legend of Wu Kong))

[writeouswriter]

Reading a fic that's so well written I wish I could close my eyes and just let the descriptions and atmosphere wash over me, but the dilemma with closing my eyes is, well, I then would not be able to continue reading this fic, now would I.

[mariejordans]

“since when do you care about anyone not named jordan” OHHH I’VE BEEN WAITING TO TALK ABOUT THIS SCENE

i fully believe up until marie said that, jordan really believed that they didn’t give a fuck about marie. like you can see the realization hit jordan’s face like her entire face softens and her demeanor changes.

and marie obviously picks up on it, bc lets face it they were not subtle at all, and all of a sudden marie’s like wait maybe they do actually care i wasn’t expecting that [insert gay panic face] and then aborts mission bc it’s too much for her to handle at the moment and then they go back to bantering and pretending that moment didn’t happen (until the inevitable moment when the tension snaps and they make out furiously until they are interrupted by an ill-timed emma meyer)

[aventurineswife]

Aventurine, boothill and dr ratio with a s/o who's a detective? :3

Detective on the clock!

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Detective!Reader, Crime-solving, Witty Banter, Partnership, Mystery, Tension, Fluff, Adventure.

Warnings: Mild Language, Implied Violence, Mentions Of Crime And Investigation, Action, Slight Angst In Boothill's Storyline.

The soft chime of the clock struck midnight as you studied the crime scene evidence, furrowing your brow in concentration. Just as the details started to piece together, a figure slid into the room, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Late night again, love?” Aventurine’s smooth voice broke the silence, accompanied by the gentle scent of his cologne as he leaned against your desk, one eyebrow arched in amusement.

“Some people work for a living,” you replied, sparing him a quick, affectionate smile. “Unlike a certain risk-taker who plays the stock market as if it’s a card game.”

Aventurine chuckled, feigning an offended gasp. “Why, I’ll have you know that every investment is as strategic as a chess move. And speaking of strategy…” He slid a small, folded paper across your desk. “I managed to get some information that might help with that case of yours. A little gift, courtesy of the IPC.”

You took the paper, heart thumping as the details unfolded. It was a lead you’d been searching for. “Aventurine… how did you even get this?”

“Do you really want to know?” He grinned, pushing his glasses up. “Or are you happy with the result?”

You leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Sometimes, I think you’re the better detective.”

“Maybe,” he mused with a wink. “But I’d rather leave the real mysteries in your capable hands.”

Together, you returned to your work—one a master of risks, the other a seeker of truth, blending your strengths to bring the shadows into the light.

The galaxy's starry expanse flickered beyond the viewport as Boothill silently reloaded his revolver, checking each chamber with practiced ease. You leaned back, arms folded, watching his every move.

“Any idea what’s waiting for us down there?” you asked, squinting at the worn map on the dashboard. The old freighter rumbled beneath you, navigating its way through treacherous asteroid fields toward the IPC's latest outpost.

Boothill's sharp teeth flashed in a grin. “Justice, sweetheart. That’s all that’s waiting. And maybe a little trouble, if I’m lucky.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your lips twitch into a smile. “Lucky, huh? You mean reckless.”

“That, too,” he drawled, glancing over his shoulder at you. “That’s why I have you, my little detective. Keepin’ me on the straight and narrow.” His eyes gleamed with affection. “Mostly.”

“Someone has to,” you said, crossing the room to stand beside him. “I may not have your… firepower, but I’d like to think my detective instincts are keeping us both alive.”

He reached out, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “Those instincts of yours are sharper than any blade. Once we hit that outpost, keep your eyes open. They’ll have what we need, but I’ll need you watching my back.”

And with a quick, heated kiss, you both turned back to the task at hand—a vengeful cowboy and his vigilant detective, prepared to bring justice to every shadowed corner of the galaxy.

The night was quiet, a stark contrast to the tension brewing in your office. You sifted through case files, piecing together the fragments of an unsolvable mystery. Every clue, every lead pointed toward an unknown answer—until a soft knock at your door made you look up

There he stood: Dr. Veritas Ratio, the renowned genius, a glint of amusement lighting his features. He entered, a scroll of notes in hand. “I heard,” he said in that calm, assured voice, “you were looking for a missing variable.”

You blinked in surprise. “Are you offering help?”

“I’m offering insight,” he replied, placing his notes before you with a flourish. “Intuition, as you call it, though I prefer ‘scientific deduction.’”

You scanned the pages, the tiny puzzle pieces starting to fall into place with Ratio’s guidance. “You did this for me?”

He tilted his head, almost as if the thought of not helping you was absurd. “A detective’s work is not all that different from mine—chasing truth, unraveling the unknown. Besides, I find it... intellectually stimulating.” His hand brushed yours lightly as he took a seat beside you, eyes gleaming with that familiar spark of passion. “Together, I believe we might solve anything.”

You couldn’t help but smile, warmth blooming in your chest. “Then let’s crack this case, shall we?”

And as you both leaned over the papers, minds entwined in a dance of logic and intuition, you felt grateful for the brilliant man who saw mystery in the ordinary and in you, his remarkable detective.

[avidaraku]

after watching a playthrough of Indika, I think it rly is so interesting seeing how expansive it is - esp after watching the demo ages ago. So many things click, like a cog in a machine, and this game has truly thrown me so many surprises at every turn, including how Indika turned into a nun.

even though I never was raised religiously in my house, there is that cultural understanding of what it means to sin and to be influenced by the fear of death and disobedience. Don't have much thoughts but I loved the ending soooo much - (spoilers!!) but I love that Indika's reflection of God and the Devil are clearly parts of her that have consumed her and that you cannot get rid of the bad if you also want to be good. You need both evil and justice, hot and cold, sharp and round - things that you think can easily exist on its own, cannot be defined by as a universality.

Sometimes I see myself as a walking corpse, and I think about my own death every time I look into the mirror. And honestly - I'm glad I can see a game clearly represent that rotting panic and urge to prove that you are not this bad person, the moments where you just have unending conversations with the worst parts of yourself and somehow everything has made you worse. I fucking LOVE that. We all have devils and gods inside of us, for better or for worse.

it is absolutely devastating when the journey comes to an end with our companion, who we decided to take a bet on, and everything goes to fucking shit. reality is often humbling and disappointing - with Ilya unable to "talk to God" and his arm will never come back. But man, did I love how the perspective of the game shifted from third person (omniscent, out of boundaries of the human realm) to first person (in reality, no longer above humanity) in the ending. It is deeply unsettling how different everything is after Indika manages to escape from her imprisonment, and how it is the devil that helps her escape. You can't tell what Indika is thinking anymore, not when now you can only see through her eyes. Even in the mirrors, when Indika stares at herself in the mirror of the pawnshop - it is the face of the Devil until the very last moment. Then you see how she's permanently changed, no longer wearing her nun habit, all her original thoughts on her journey initially coming to a hush.

it was a very bizarre but also such a cool game, I'm so glad i got to witness this journey! I would highly recommend it if you want to see some very cool displays on faith and doubt - the game gets very philosophical, unsurprisingly, but I also enjoy the Devil's voice. It's very well written and also I really enjoyed that convo between Indika and the Devil where their silhouettes were essentially merging in and out with each other in a pool of red. Probably one of my favs if u ignore the ones with Ilya haha. There's definitely more I could talk abt, but all in all, I do love how full circle this game comes. Very satisfying even if the game takes things in a crazy spin, and im sure a lot of ppl aren't used to that.

[layalu]

managing Deadfire approval is SO much more stressful than DA2 approval could ever be

[ch4rryc0smos]

⊹ scent of summer — a. donaldson.

synopsis — tennis, college, and everything in between. a celebratory party that leads to the same quiet night, just this time with unspoken words that finally leave their prisons.

genres — friends to lovers, tension, mutual pining, late-night conversations, teasing, friendly banter, admiring, friend of a friend, domestic fluff, tooth rotting fluff.

pairing — art donaldson x friend!self insert, art donaldson x mutual friend!self insert.

warnings — mentions of being drunk, if that counts.

word count — 2.4k.

author's note — i love writing oneshots, they are so fun, i swear. and i also love art very much, if it isn't obvious yet. i saw this challengers series here, and i really want to write one now, but i simply don't have enough time, i've realised. i had to put another one on hold, and over that, it requires planning. i might just die. anyways, happy reading!

masterlist.

The crowd cheers, and Marion’s ears won’t stop ringing, no matter how hard she tries to make it stop. She’s also trying to act like this isn’t totally hurting her (it is, but Art can’t know that). Art’s mop of blond hair is glistening, shining even, under the sunlight. It beams down on him, the warmth spreading under his palms. Every time he gets a bit too close to where she’s sitting she’s almost sure she can count the sweat droplets rolling down his forehead, the skin wrinkling in focus and his lips forming a pout. Every time he spares her a glance, she feels the smile bloom all over, and instead nods at the court. 

Don’t get distracted, she thinks. Tashi sighs beside her.

Tashi, her superstar-model of a best friend turns towards her, giving her a tired look. “I don’t know if you being here gives him a confidence boost or if it distracts him more—”

“I’m hoping it’s the first.” Marion’s eyes are glued onto Art’s fluid movements. He hasn’t glanced at her once since the last time their eyes met, and she’s glad. Because he looks like he has the upperhand right now. And she hates how mushy his grunts of focus make her feel. They make her feel all fuzzy and her brain turn into pathetic mush. She huffs, turning away from the teasing eyes that Tashi has focused on her. She stares at the way Art practically bounces from one place to another, his eyes darting back and forth. 

Marion’s leaning forward, breath caught in her throat as Art goes for the winning strike, his groan full of so much relief Marion has to grip onto Tashi’s hand. Her best friend grins, laughing and throwing her hands up. Marion topples back onto her seat, laughing out in relief alongside Tashi, eyes stuck to Art’s approaching figure as he jogs up to them. 

“Must’ve helped him loads, with you in his sweatshirt,” Tashi whispers into her ear when she notices the general direction Art is walking in. She slips her hand out, sitting up straight.

All while Marion feels the warmth pool in her face. She huffs, looking away.

“Hey—” Art has to stop and take a deep breath, his voice is shaking slightly. 

He’s not been that unfit, surely.

“Not hitting the gym recently?” Marion says, standing up so she can ruffle his hair. He grins at her like he’s not seen her in ages. She shakes her head when he tries to wrap his arms around her. She is not hugging him while he’s got sweat all over him that makes him look like he could be the ultimate beacon of light, with all the reflection and the gleam of his pale skin.

“I want a hug,” he says, his racket hanging at his side.

Marion looks behind him, his sulking opponent storming away, she fights back her grin, focusing her gaze on his, smiling softly. “Not until you get a shower. You better scrub off that stench, Mr. Donaldson.”

He grumbles in indignation and hands her his racket, telling her he’ll be back soon. She knows exactly what to do. She waves off Tashi who’s already talking to Patrick, animated as she narrates the game that Zweig has also just watched anyway.

Marion weaves her way through the retreating crowd, she walks into the quiet of the campus walls, walking up to the room where Art camps out before games. She drops his heavy bag onto the floor, and stuffs the racket into it. She frowns at the crumpled tissue paper she forgot to throw away, dropping it into the dustbin stowed away in a corner, hidden from the public eye. She closes her eyes and lets her behind hit the chair stationed next to a metal closet. Her eyes flutter close and she relaxes into the cold of the room. 

And then footsteps echo outside, quick as they came, the door is thrown open and Marion opens her eyes to meet Art’s gleeful face. 

“Hey,” she whispers, smiling up at him.

“You good?” He stops in front of her sitting figure, looking down at her. She nods, standing up. “How was the game?”

“Shouldn’t I ask you that?” she mumbles into his shoulder, momentarily forgetting that he’s yet to take a shower. “You better let go of me, Art.”

“Why?” he mumbles, almost whiny while he tightens his grip around her waist. “I want to celebrate with my favourite girl.”  

“Later?” she cards her fingers through his messy locks of blond hair, unintentionally melting in his arms. He pulls her closer, supports her full weight against him, somehow not wanting to collapse onto the floor. 

Marion doesn’t get him sometimes, but she doesn’t question it. She hears him mutter something, and let go. She smiles. 

“By the way,” he starts, rummaging through his bag, “Tashi, Patrick and I will be having a little party at our dorm later tonight, you should—” 

He’s interrupted by her phone pinging incessantly. She glances at him apologetically, and pulls it out. Lo and behold, it’s Tashi. Talk about the devil. She skims the message, it’s something about what Art was just mentioning. Marion laughs.

“Tashi mentioned it,” she says.

Art raises an eyebrow at her. “Well, I was doing it before her.” 

Marion grins, shaking her head as she steps up to him, planting a gentle kiss on his jawline before she takes the run, sprinting out of his room, and towards her dorm. She makes a mental note to reply to Tashi later. She expects her best friend to probably be with Patrick, either dissecting the game, or eating his face. And either way, she doesn’t want to deal with them, not just yet. 

Whenever they have these little parties, they’re timid, alright, but it never fails to end up with Art and Marion alone, the former listening and Marion speaking to her heart’s content, spurred on by Art’s nice gaze, and his interest, and the late hours of the night that ask her to open the windows into her mind.

To him. 

But the next day, neither of them talk about the way they’d end up curled in each other’s embrace, smiling like they’re on cloud nine, holding each other’s faces, pressed together.

When Marion reaches her dorm, she’s not surprised when she’s greeted by silence. She unlocks the door and steps in, a steady flow of sunlight flooding in from the window that she’d left open earlier in the morning. The air is humid, Marion now feels sweaty. She blows air into her t-shirt, shivering as she stares at her reflection on the mirror on her closet. Tashi’s tennis attire is thrown across their beds. Marion grins, picking it up and tenderly placing it on a corner. 

Now, she has to get ready. She wishes Tashi was there, to help her. 

She isn’t the best with things like this, and she would appreciate the emotional support.

Well, it never appears. 

The night air clings onto her skin as she wades her way through campus, feet carrying her down the same path that leads her back to his place. And Patrick’s place. Tashi had called her earlier, letting her know that she’s already with Patrick, that she didn’t realise the time passing when she was with her boyfriend. Marion laughed it off.

And now she treads through silence, the stillness of the quiet night making her stiff, but she continues anyway. 

She’s ever grateful to safely reach her destination. Her wrist reaches upwards to place three measured knocks on the door, she waits, bouncing from heel to heel. And then the door cracks open, locks of blond greet her before a face does, then Art appears in his entirety.

A smile breaks onto his face the second his eyes set on her. Oceans crash against the shore, a forest dances in the distance. She smiles back at him. 

“I hope I’m not late,” she says, scratching the back of her neck.

He shakes his head, “not at all, don’t worry.” He holds his hand out for her. She accepts it graciously, letting him tug into the threshold of his dorm room. Laughter caresses her senses, her eyes immediately straying towards the direction of the sound. Tashi and Patrick are on the floor, grinning as Marion approaches them.

She notices Tashi taking a swig out of a beer can. And then her eyes inch upwards, and when she notices her best friend, she starts grinning. Marion sits down beside her. Tashi places her hands in Marion’s lap. The Brit holds them gently, playing with her fingers.

“Mari’!” she says, smiling, brown eyes staring into hers. 

She blinks at her, “Hey, Tashi—” Marion starts, but is rudely interrupted by Patrick. Who is somehow slurring his words already.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He wiggles his eyebrows at her.

Marion shakes her head, face-palming. And suddenly the pressure of two palms are on her shoulder. She turns her head around and she’s nose to nose with Art Donaldson, kneeling behind her. He smiles. Marion sighs, tapping his nose, making him move back.

“Mari’...” he elongates the last vowel, pouting.

“You’re not drunk, are you?” she asks, glancing at the other two, who look considerably wasted, for the measure. 

“Not quite.” Art nuzzles his nose into her shoulder, breathing deeply. She turns around to him fully and wraps her arms around him. 

She laughs softly, “I can’t be the only one who isn’t drunk,” she whispers, eyeing the other two with mock disdain. Patrick grins, giving her and Art a look that plainly goes ‘just kiss already’, Marion looks away, trying to ignore the way her cheeks flare up. 

Tashi on the other hand, is staring at Patrick, and then glancing at Marion. And she shrugs. 

One thing leads to another, a cigarette break for Patrick has him going with Tashi to who knows where. But they’re not back, and it’s been a while.

“Don’t think they’ll be back any time soon,” Art mutters, face pressed into the crook of Marion’s neck. The latter nods in agreement, running her hands on his bare skin under his thin cotton shirt. His hands are on her waist, also under the warmth encapsulated by his sweatshirt that’s hanging loose on her skin. His hands are warm to the touch, and she shivers, but doesn’t ask him to let go. 

At some point through the night, the window was thrown open, and it’s been like that since. Warm air wafts through the open window, the scent of summer lingering in the room, clinging to their skin. Marion’s chin rests on Art’s head, he’s tracing random shapes onto the skin of her sides, her eyes flutter close.

She feels shuffling, and suddenly warm air—No, a warm breath is fanning right against her face. She opens her eyes a sliver, to meet Art’s eyes, his lips inches away from hers. His hands have her caged against the headboard of the bed. She stares up at him. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks him, voice barely above a whisper.

“Nothin’, you jus’ look pretty,” he mumbles, pressing his forehead to hers. She has to reach up, wrap her arms around his neck. She wants to turn her face away before she’s sure she’ll bloom into a scarlet mess, but Art’s fingers find their way onto her right cheek. She instinctively leans into the touch, how she does often, more often than she should.

“I don’t,” she breathes into his fingers, turning her head slightly so she can place kisses on his fingertips.

“You always do,” Art counters, turning her face back so he can look at the entirety of it. He breathes softly, she’s back to counting every smile line, eyelashes, stray strand of hair, anything, so she doesn’t have to stare at the way his lips are parted.

The way he looks incredibly kissable. 

And the way that makes her heartbeat stutter. 

She shakes her head, Art tilts his head.

“Please,” he whispers.

Her breath hitches in her throat. She thinks she knows exactly what he’s asking, but she’s scared to say anything, to just say yes. 

“Please what?” she breathes out with a shaky voice. He shuffles, pressing closer against her. Her eyes close.

“Look at me.” His hands trace the expanse of her face, cupping it. 

She opens her eyes. The look in his eyes is so plain, she nods. 

He leans down, captures her lips in a gentle kiss, pulling her as close as he can. She wants to crumble in his arms, he tastes like summer, or whatever she thinks it tastes like. His lips are warm, but soft, his breath makes her heady, tint of peppermint making her head spin. His hair is tickling her face as he presses ever closer, trying to seemingly memorise the way her lips move in sync with his. Her arms are pulling him closer by the neck until they’re practically moulded into one another. Hands weave into his hair, tugging at it. 

He groans softly.

The butterflies erupt in her stomach. 

When he pulls away, her chest is rising and falling quickly, shaky breaths slipping past as she stares at his red face, eyes barely open. He’s grinning. She chuckles.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers.

“You’ve said,” she whispers back, reaching out and pulling him closer by the nape of his neck. There’s no resistance, he just crumbles onto her, his head nuzzled against her shoulder, where he’s now peppering feather light kisses. 

She presses her face into his hair, drinking in the scent of… the beach that infiltrates her senses. He is summer, to some extent. She reckons.

“No but, you just…” he trails off, breathing softly against the crook of her neck. She glances at the clock hanging on the wall, 01:44 it reads. 

“Mhm, whatever you say,” she hums, closing her eyes, relaxing, Art’s weight pressed against her. He snakes his arms back around the skin of her waist, under the sweatshirt. She relaxes into his grip more, feels the exhaustion tugging at her consciousness.

“Wear my sweatshirt more often,” he whispers, voice quiet, the tiredness lining every syllable. 

She nods against the headboard, holding him closer. 

The strong scent of summer is wafting in from somewhere now, and she can hear a door creaking open, can hear the quiet murmurs of people from somewhere, but she ignores it. Marion’s mind is consumed by the urge to sleep and by Art’s comforting weight, and the way his chest is rising and falling against hers. 

Summer surrounds them, and sleep speaks in quiet whispers to her. She smiles against the top of Art’s head, doesn’t care if there are obscenely loud giggles echoing around her, she’ll deal with it later.

ch4rryc0smos © 2024 … do not repost, alter, translate, or steal my work.