#because I EARNED IT DARN IT

[metastablephysicist]

just learned about scotch darning. oh the humble blanket stitch... <3

[brine-in-my-eyes]

ok so ive been reading whathappensnext and uh oh my god oh my... goodness gracious. what in the flimmerjammer dilly jar did i pull myself into

im bookmarking at victim impact statement cuz i think this is near the end but i gotta go to sleep

all ive got to say now is oh my god gage you need to calm tf down oh my god oh my godddddd. everyone is so messed up in the head. this comic goves off so much millenial aged american neurodivergent toxic sludge of relationship messed up kind of story one that probably would have broken me as a teen but now i can just read with the sidenote that it's all fiction n stuff

i might reblog with some final thoughts just cuz i have like ALOT to say abt what i think of it

now heres the tricky part. actually putting my phone down and going to sleep.

[randomwords247]

“why are you spending money on blue checkmarks when you could be spending it on x y z or commissioning people” maybe let people have fun with the money that they earned and maybe don’t guilt them into giving YOU money?

Not everyone wants commissions. Commissions aren’t something you’re supposed to be guilted into, they’re supposed to be something someone actively wants to buy. Don’t try and guilt people into it, let people spend the money they earned how they want to

Why is it a crime to have fun nowadays?

[yestrday]

: ̗̀➛ ALL OR NOTHING. yan! aventurine / gn! reader

it's a nice feeling to finally be on the winning side, feigning fairness when all the winning cards are in his hand. but it's not like you can fault him for cheating. after all, you who has nothing chose to challenge him, the one who will gain everything.

( overarching theme of sl4very, anim4l cruelty, anim4l death, bl00d, graphic description of violence, hinted obsessive behavior, im unoriginal and stole kafkas spirit whisper for reader ) + 7.5k words

"It's just a bet," he suggests, as if this gamble won't cost you your everything. "Juuust a bet. Exactly what are you so scared of?"

He sits laid back in his plush velvet chair, twirling a cocktail as he enjoys the finest luxuries in life. He is clad head to toe in the finest clothing, dressed like a peacock waiting to impress. You, on the other hand, feel more like the peahen— dreadfully drab in your rags and no choice but to watch as the peacock flaunts his feathers. You are knelt on the ground, but your eyes show no submission.

"I'm not crazy, gambler," you bite. "I know the IPC. They are full of shit. And you, Aventurine." Your eyes set on him with hatred. "You're the smelliest of the lot."

Aventurine, the gem of lies and luck, sighs dramatically. "Pup, you know I don't like it when you're so vulgar, y'know? I'm giving you a chance at freedom, so you ought to at least treat me at least a little bit nicer. I'm not the one who shackled you, so I don't understand what the aggression is all about."

"You're the reason why I'm here in the first place!"

"No, Jade was." He presses a finger to your lip and you'd bite it if it weren't for the annoying bind you were under. "Jade came across you and thought you and your talent would make for a nice gift. You were a gift and I'm just the receiver. So don't go barking up the wrong tree, pup."

"So." He leans back into his couch and shoots you a sly grin. "Up for round one?"

You are lost.

The meaning of Paths and their symbolisms are lost on you. You don't care for Aeons— no one on your home planet was. You were busy diving in dumpsters for a scrape of food, tricking your 'friends' into sacrificing themselves for you, and killing whatever was left of your humanity just to make it to another day. You walk on no Path but yours.

You don't even know which way you're going. So you are lost.

You think Aventurine is lost too.

He has every detail of his facade practiced. His gait is relaxed enough to not be intimidating, but not sloppy enough to be called out as bad posture. He talks in a smooth voice that eases fools and makes enemies wary, his smile is charming to sway the opponent into another gamble, his hair is fixed to frame his pretty face, and he chooses words that cannot be turned into loopholes. He is Aventurine. But he is not himself.

He does not care for the Preservation, but he rejects the Elation. He is on his own Path too, but he knows the destination he must reach— his 'End'. In that way, he is different from you, because you know not your journey or your ending. Still, he is just as lost as you.

But he makes a darn good show of not seeming that way. Right now, you watch as he throws the dice on the table, and the whole table watches with bated breath as they turn. A six and one— he lost the bet to the other's six and five. They cackle gleefully as they collect their earnings from Aventurine. They have chips upon chips on their side of the table while Aventurine's winnings are cut in half.

"I think I'll call it a day, pretty boy," the gambler cackles, greedily eyeing his earnings and possibly dreaming about the cash he's made tonight. "Even a gambler knows when to call quits, right?"

Aventurine pouts. "Aww, so soon? C'mon, the night's only begun! Who knows, play another round and you might just end up with more money than you have right now~"

The man laughs again, obviously not fooled by his pity act. "Boy, I'm not as addicted as you are. I know when to stop instead of letting you bleed me out dry." But Aventurine isn't fazed; rather, he snaps his fingers and you lower your head as you step to his side.

"Well, we can't have that, can we? [Y. Name], be a dear and persuade this gentleman into another round with me."

A glow of your eyes. Then you fix the man with an eerie gaze as you say, bright and clear, "Hey, you: Play another round with my master."

As if in a daze, the man's eyes cloud over and sit right back. Another round later Aventurine wins all his losses back and more, leaving the other gambler's side naked and bare of chips. The man is barely out of his stupor when he realizes what just happened— that he's fallen for a trick and now he's ended up with no money to even cover his lodgings— but you and Aventurine have sauntered out of the casino doors by the time he's begun cussing you out.

"Ha! That was fun." Aventurine shrugs off his jacket now that you're in the car and raises an empty champagne glass to you. "You're a good partner, [Y. Name]. Honestly, that Spirit Whisper of yours is such a nice trick. Just like that Stellaron Hunter, right?"

"... Kafka?"

"Yes, her. Enigmatic woman, isn't she? A bit ironic how those with such a powerful ability ended up as slaves. Her as Destiny's, and you as... mine." He gives your collar a little tug and you growl in warning, but you inch closer to him anyway. "So. Gambling. You up for that round?"

You scoff and grin at him with all teeth and no mirth. "You really think that a Cornerstone would bet on their slave's freedom?" Aventurine's own grin grows wider. "C'mon. Even Pteruges-V has better lies than you."

"Ah, right, your homeworld. No wonder you're so brazen all the time, even to your superiors. I forget that fear is a foreign concept to you people. Still," he raises your chin with a finger. "If you're so fearless, why not bet on a gamble? It's not like you're scared."

"There may be fools from my planet that you can trick with that taunt, peacock, but I'm not one of them. I'm fearless, not stupid. And with the way you're so eager to involve me in this bet, I'm beginning to suspect that you need this more than I do." You push him away. "So, no, master, I won't indulge you. I'll bide my time and look for an escape. Just like I've always had."

"And what?" He looks at you from behind his sunglasses. "Will you kill me to gain that freedom?"

You flash him a sharp grin, now amused. "Of course you'd think that, master."

The smile on his face is wiped clean. You really are a brazen thing, you.

Jade has always mentioned how soft Aventurine is on you. A dog of your attitude should merit a little more disciplinary action and even the good Doctor has told him this once or twice after seeing your arrogance despite the collar around your neck. "Your dog bites more than it deserves," Ratio scoffed while you made an action of biting him behind Aventurine. He frowned in displeasure. "You ought to make it learn a lesson or two."

"Now, now, doctor," Aventurine had laughed. "Not everyone shares the same sadistic tendencies as you." An image of you collared and shaking on your knees flashes through his mind, and he finds himself gulping. Ratio looks at him like he doesn't believe him.

It's not like he hasn't thought of it, of chaining you to the wall and starving you so that you learn that your attitude has its consequences. You shouldn't bite the hand that feeds you, not when he's been so good to you. But that... that was exactly the line of thought his old master had. That wicked man who put a brand on him and sullied his hands with his wretched man... he couldn't risk turning into a monster like... that.

Aventurine is weak. Unable to let go of past sentiments and memories, he makes it up with his grand display of bravado and high-stakes gambles. He gambles even as he spoils you, laughing at your audacity and even rewarding you for it sometimes, not knowing whether you'll leave him or if you'll stay with him. It is a gamble indeed, but you were worth every risk.

"What do you think of me, [Y. Name]?" The cityscape beyond the window is glowing with Pier Point's nightlife, and his suite provides him a good view of the world beneath him. He glances back at you, stirring his coffee for him. "Your dear master Aventurine. What do you think of me?"

"Annoying, stupid, a fool, an addict, and pathetic." You don't hesitate to badmouth your master. "You lie too well, you think that luck of yours will never run out, and you try to be someone that you can't."

"And who is that someone?"

Your eyes flash. "Someone strong. Someone confident. Someone who isn't afraid to admit his weaknesses and hope that things get better."

"I didn't peg you for an optimist, dear pet."

"Hmph. That's not optimism. I may not know what exactly fear is, but I know that what is holding you back isn't it. You do not fear things, gambler. You stake it all and bet on something so intangible as luck. That can't be fear."

"Then what is it?"

The stare you give him sets his heart off, looking straight into his eyes and giving a grin so devilish and knowing like that facade of his never mattered in the first place.

"You're a coward. A plain, old coward. Nothing more, nothing less."

That conversation had always popped up in his head in the most inconvenient of moments, especially when he was about to get some sleep. His heart beat faster every time he recalled that knowing gaze of yours, invading where he didn't want the world to see and baring his soul right before your very eyes. His facade doesn't work on you.

He could care less. You were the one person he didn't want it to work on, though he'd never admit that out loud.

This meeting with the other Ten Cornerstones could not interest him any less, and it seemed to be that way for the others too. Jade is saying something on behalf of Diamond, again, and everyone is busy doing their own thing. Only Topaz seems to be the one paying at least some attention, and even then she gets distracted by Numby from time to time. Aventurine glances at the clock.

He wonders how his pup is faring while he's away. Ecstatic, perhaps.

"— All evidence leads to an underground network that is scattered among numerous planets, though thankfully all of them are within the same galaxy. I'll be forwarding an email to you all with a detailed report on each of these. Just know that most of us will be likely deported to these countries to break up the—" In the middle of Jade's tiresome monologue, the security alarms start to blare and two officers slam through the doors with looks of urgency. One of them scans the room until his eyes land on Aventurine, and they quickly approach him.

"Sir!" They say, desperate and alarmed. "Your do— I mean, slave! They've– They've escaped!"

Surprise streaks across the faces of the Ten Cornerstones, even Aventurine's. He collects himself when he catches Jade's knowing smile and chuckles to himself.

"Well, I guess this is the master's consequence for not disciplining their pet."

Did he really think you were fucking stupid? Taking on a bet for your freedom... what a bunch of bullshit. He can proclaim about how much he loves a fair gamble, but you know that's only reserved for the people around the table. You are his slave, the one he demeaningly calls 'pet'— you don't have the chance to make your own dealings.

"Halt! In the name of Qlipoth, you better stop while we're giving you a chance." These IPC henchmen were slowpokes, the lot of them. You weave in and between salary workers, crashing trolleys full of wares and coffees and hopping between levels just to shake them off their tracks. By golly, they might be incompetent but Aeons damned they were nothing but persistent.

"Ha, the Devil Hunters were more annoying than them," you mutter to yourself, skidding around the corner only to come face-to-face with two IPC henchmen. They raise their polearms to strike, but with a chilling grin stretched across your face, you say: "Hey, you: Jump."

You don't look back to see whether they made the seven-floor drop.

This reminds you of the nights you spent back in Pteruges-V: making fools out of the prissy rich, jumping across buildings to shake of the Hunters, and using whatever you had to make things go your way. Not everyone had Spirit Whisper, but those who had made good use of it and you sure as hell wouldn't miss a single chance to use it.

Your mind runs with plans as you continue to run away. Maybe you'll find a nice ship to stow away on, hopefully, one that leads to a nice planet that isn't so stuffy and rigid. Maybe like Homberto-σ, out of sight from the IPC and where everyone minded their own business.

For what felt like forever trying to shake your followers off, you finally came to a stop when you realized that only the sound of your footsteps could be heard in this labyrinth of hallways and corridors. Finally having shaken them off, you sigh as you climb up the stairs to the rooftop. 'Just jump down and sneak off to the nearest hiding place you can find.' You tug at your collar and scowl. 'When I escape, not even this collar will matter anymore. Not when I'm somewhere they won't reach me.'

You've escaped so many life-or-death situations before. Escaping slavery is no different.

"Slave [Y.Name], subordinate of Cornerstone Aventurine, you are surrounded!" A voice blares through a megaphone the moment you step onto the roof deck. You hiss as multiple glaring lights settle on you, shielding your face from them and the helicopters' onslaught of wind. "Surrender now before we are forced to take extreme measures."

Through the gaps of your fingers, you can barely make out the men in black pointing their guns at your head, the red hot of the laser making you a point-blank target. You click your tongue. Those bastards tricked you into thinking you were safe. Fuck. You couldn't even be mad. This was all on you.

"Oh, little pup. I guess I really should have listened to them when they told me to discipline you." Aventurine's seedy voice sighs behind you, smirking as he nonchalantly strides up to you. "Did you really have to do all this instead of taking the bet? Do you really hate the thought of playing with me, hm?"

"Fuck off."

"No can do, little one, you know how much I'm obsessed with you, right?" He chuckles, catching your chin between his thumb and index and forcing you to look into his eyes. Those Sigonian eyes are covered by the cloudy purple of his glasses, but even you can tell just how much he's enjoying this mess you've put yourself in. "You know I don't have a need for your skill. I could easily persuade anyone without trying, but I still let you stick around. Pup, I can't just back away from you when you know how much I want you."

You smile darkly. "That's cuz you're a sicko who likes tugging on the chain instead of being in it."

Those pretty eyes of his darken for a moment, embittered by the snarky comment at his past, before his hands trail down to your collar, hooking it with a finger and pulling on it. "Dear, while I usually have the patience for your tirades, I'd rather not do it today. You've humiliated me enough in front of the entire Corporation. So—" Pulling once again on your collar, he starts to lead you to the door. "— Let us depart without much hassle, okay?"

Humiliation sears your nerves like a hot metal, a warning growl eliciting from your mouth as he continues to tug you away from the rooftop. Close, you were so fucking close. Here you are breathing in the fresh night wind, a jump away from freedom, but then these IPC idiots all had you fooled. You don't care how many bullets will embed themselves into your skin, all you just needed to do was get away from this grip Aventurine has on you.

You grab the wrist pulling on you, yanking him towards you. His eyes widen before narrowing again, as if not believing that you still had the energy to fight like you don't have red laser points on your forehead. "[Y. Na—"

"Hey, you: S—"

You couldn't even get another syllable out. Your collar beats a few pulses before it starts squeezing your neck, crushing your windpipes and forcing you down on your knees as you choke on your blood. It sears hot around your neck and you collapse writhing on the ground as you sob and gurgle on your screams and congealed blood.

'WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY ME—' You can only curse and scream inside your head as you painfully thrash on the cement. '— A BILLION BASTARDS IN THE WORLD AND IT HAD TO BE FUCKING ME.'

Darkness is pushing in on you and the pain is making it too hard to go on, but you've always been a fighter. Even if you think that your squirming is pathetic and futile to the onlookers, you continue to tug and pull on the collar like you have a chance. Your ears are ringing and your eyes are too fucking blurry to see with, but the fight doesn't die down.

Aventurine places a soft palm on your hair. Even through the tears stinging your eyes, you can barely make out the faint expression on his face. Damned fucking bastard, damned Signonian, hypocrite and the fucking devil—!

He even has the audacity to look sad for you, as the light slips away from your eyes.

The first round is simple. Play a round of poker with him.

Aventurine hums delightedly as he shuffles the cards with clean and practised movements, looking right at home at the dealer's table he has sitting in his suite. You blankly look at the cards, not even an inch of a reaction from your side. He chuckles as he deals your cards.

"C'mon, look alive, dear." It's almost like he genuinely wants you to cheer up. "Look, I even poured out alcohol for you. It's not everyday that you get to taste Pier Point's most exquisite wine!"

You continue to stare blankly. You haven't given up yet, of course not, but... you can barely bring yourself to move.

When Aventurine is done dealing all the cards, he leans back on his chair and studies his opponent, just like he always has in the past. If you were acting normally, this would have been an easy win. After all, you always wore your heart on your sleeve and abhorred being told to control your emotions. You acted the way you felt— you curse when you anger, you boast when you're feeling smug, and you press your lips together and blush as he praises you for another job well done.

But now. Well. Bandaids cover the seared marks on your neck as well as your head after you've slammed it against the pavement during your delirious fit on the rooftop. Your arms are littered with purples and blues, the aftermath of a disciplinary session that went on throughout the night. Despite the abuse that Aventurine has (rightfully, in his mind) dealt to you, he had made sure to tend to you afterwards.

Settling your head on his lap, combing through the strands as he placed an icepack on your bruises. He hummed you an old children's rhyme from his home planet as you lay limp across the couch. You could barely move, mind unable to process the pain and despair of having an inch of freedom being ripped away from you. He had wiped away the tear that would fall from your eyes.

You couldn't feel comforted at all.

"This will be the first round out of four. Today, we'll make this a bit simple. Five quick rounds of Indian poker. If you're confident that your card is higher than mine, you can bet as much as you like. Not confident? Fold, and that won't count as a round. Loser has the lower card." He raises his glasses to his hair and smiles at you. "Understood?"

"Understood," you grunt. "I'm not a fuckin' idiot."

Aventurine only smirks. It irritates you, but you don't have much fire in you to snap at him.

The room is silent save for the clinking of chips against each other. The two of you cast a chip to the middle of the table. You raise your card to your forehead.

You cast two more chips. Aventurine casts three. You stare at the printed picture on his card and throw in another chip. He throws in another five. You frown.

"Fold."

"Ah~ You should've been more confident in yourself!" Aventurine chuckles as he begins to shuffle the deck to deal another round. You scowl at the Ace of Clubs in your hand, mocking you at your relinquished defeat. "Is a little intimidation all that's needed to make you submit? You weren't this docile before."

"Shut the fuck up and let's play again." He decides to stifle his laugh for the sake of your nerves.

"Raise." Your win, six of hearts to three of spades.

"Raise." Your win, queen of spades to jack of hearts.

"Fold." Could've been Aventurine's, ace of spades to king of spades.

"Raise." Aventurine's win, eight of clubs to six of hearts.

"Fold." Could've been yours, queen of hearts to 10 of clubs.

"Raise." Aventurine's win, nine of clubs to seven of spades.

Aventurine's practiced hands thumb through the cards as he begins to rearrange them again. His glass wine is almost empty, while yours is untouched. The man knows that you don't drink, so why would he...?

"Last round before one of us wins," Aventurine's voice lilts as he throws you your card. "How about we make it exciting? No one is allowed to fold this round." You frown at him but don't say anything. You cast another chip to the table, and he follows suit.

He has a 10 of spades pressed to his forehead, and your fingers dig deep into your skin.

'Oh please, there's other cards higher than a 10.' You remind yourself, but you gulp down your dry throat as your vision zeroes into his card. 'Jack, Queen, King, Ace. Anything. Please.' Aventurine notices your hurried breathing and smiles knowingly. You gulp whatever cowardice is rising in your throat and throw another chip.

"Raise." Fuck it. If this is the last round, then let's just ball.

He cocks his head, finding the motion unnecessary in this last round. But he sighs with a smile and plays along, casting his chips into the fray, "Then I'll raise too."

"This is the last round," you say, more so to remind yourself.

"Yep." He leans forward on the table and the fluorescent lights cast a shadow over those alluring eyes. "Nervous?"

'How could you say that? How could you taunt me like that? When you were just like me?'

You strengthen your resolve and glare up at him, the fire lighting back up in those blank eyes. "I hope you go to hell."

You throw your card to the middle, with the rest of the chips.

Jack of Clubs.

Aventurine cocks his head at you, smiling as usual.

"Congratulations, pet."

One would expect that Pier Point was the peak embodiment of wealth and luxury, being the base of the Interastral Peace Corporation. But the brightly something shone the darker its shadows.

Aventurine just so happened to like those shadows, even shrugging off those fancy clothes of his just so that he could find solace in those sleazy bars and play rounds of poker with dead-eyed salarymen and recently fired hopefuls.

The surroundings didn't fare any better. Amongst the dying neon lights, Pier Point's worst neighborhoods featured a just as nasty environment. Drunkards lying beside dumpsters with shattered beer bottles around them, cats hissing at each other in a fight for survival, and abandoned children peeking at them around the corner as they lay in wait for an opening.

Aventurine has shedded his elaborate peacock coat in favor of a simple white button-down and slacks. Despite the simplicity, he still looked out of place amongst the rags, though it made people think of him as a fearless idiot rather than run away at the sight of the IPC's elite.

"Mmm, that robin is indeed very plump," the blonde idiot remarks out of nowhere. "Quite out of place for this kind of area."

You pay him very little attention, mindlessly kicking the broken half of a bottle with your heel. It bumps into a smelly bastard who shoots you an irritated look, but quickly cowers when you return it tenfold. "Maybe it's been feeding on the leftovers of you prissy IPC folk," you spat, taking a look at the fat robin for yourself.

He takes no notice of the slight towards his kind and instead cocks his head at the cat slinking around the corner. "Well. Its health has attracted a rather unwelcome predator." He turns to you, with a mischievous smile. "How about we make this round two? Who will die first, the cat or the robin?"

Seriously? You were betting your freedom on something as stupid as this? You consider the cat— snarling, insipid thing, balding and thin as a stick— then the robin, tweeting fearfully at its perch on the graffitied wall. "Am betting on the cat. Could eat the fat thing while you go on another gamble."

He laughs, sliding on his shades as he walks into the seedy bar. "Then I have no choice but to bet on the poor robin. Let's have some fun before we see the results of our bet."

The cat is lying on the ground, heaving its last few breaths. Its yellow eyes are barely peeking out from its eyelids, probably delirious and starving in its last moments. You poke it slightly with your foot.

It meows pitifully. You instantly feel bad.

It might just be the ugliest thing you've laid your eyes on, but even the ugliest creatures deserve some sort of companionship in their last moments. It hisses weakly when you draw your hand close, but it can't do anything but relent as you stroke its hairless head. It purrs a bit, ragged and breathy, but the heaving of its ribbed chest slows as it relaxes.

"Don't do that," you murmur. "Just... just be quiet. It's okay."

The quiet steps of leather shoes stop beside you, and Aventurine watches on in silence as you comfort the dying thing. His gaze moves from the cat to the robin, still perched on top of the wall with his fat little chest and beady eyes. It hasn't moved from its position at all, just... staring and staring.

"So—"

"I know," you murmur, focus still on the poor thing. "I know, okay?"

The fat robin chirps again, tittering with its mocking chirp, before it flies away into the sky.

Your cat closes its eyes shut, and its skinny chest finally slows to a stop.

Aventurine stays with you for a while as you find a nice spot of earth to bury it.

No matter how much you want to believe your preconceived image of the blonde gambler— irresponsible, materialistic, money-wasting— you can't just make up lies about him in your head when all of his missions end on a win for him. Right now, he's heading for another mission in a galaxy far away again. And like always, he's dragged you along whether you like it or not.

"Come on, you like sightseeing other planets!" He laughs on the space warp going there. "Makes your blood pumping, scouting out the possible planets you can run away to."

"If I can run away," you grumble, not wanting to acknowledge him as you stare out the window and into the starry expanse of galaxies and space. This sight has always unnerved you— a reminder of how small and insignificant you are. How small and insignificant this collar hand on your life.

"It's not like you to be such a downer," he huffs. He pats the empty seat beside him. "Come, come. Drink with me. Ah, but no alcohol though. Don't want you trying to bite my entourage as soon as we get off." He's referring to the time that you had two sips of the lightest alcohol the ship had in stock before you absolutely wasted and decided that running away to the next planet was a good idea.

You grunt but sit on the floor next to his feet. He doesn't dare to correct you but only regards you with amusement before handing you a glass of sparkling water. You've always had this weird insistence of maintaining your master-slave status quo, despite abhorring your status as a slave. You followed his commands to the tee no matter how dangerous but refused to budge whenever he insisted on treating you like an equal.

"Don't get me wrong," you had snapped at him angrily one time. "As long as I'm in this stupid collar, I am not your fucking equal. So don't go around treatin' me like one, got it?!"

"You got the briefing, right? I'll be dismantling an underground operation on our next planet, so I'll be making good use of your Spirit Whisper." You sip your drink and make no reaction. "I'm sure you have no complaints about that, right?"

"Like I have a fuckin' choice."

He laughs into his cocktail. "Right. How could I forget?" Your eyes narrow into slits when he threads his thin fingers through your hair, but you don't make any move to remove them. "Unfortunately, this isn't an operation that I can just charm and gamble my way through, so you'll be doing a lot of heavy lifting. But so long as I have you, my dearest pet, I'm sure we'll be done before we know it."

You fight the urge to give into his tender touch, massaging your scalp as he combs your strands, though your eyelids are drooping now. He chuckles fondly when you rest your chin on the sofa, right next to his thigh. Adorable, how easily you succumb to the smallest of physical affection.

"Just take a nap," he hums. "We'll be there before you know it."

Aventurine's lavish outfit is a stark contrast against the nitty and gritty environment of the gambling den the two of you are staking out right now. Some of the men leer at him when he passes by, their faces painted by sweat and malice, and the promiscuous women bat their eyes at him with painted-on sweet smiles. No one bats an eye at the collared servant trailing behind him.

You try not to wince as you accidentally make eye contact with another slave, them kneeling on the ground with only rags to cover them and you have the luxury to look away as you grip the sleeves of your ironed button-down. You decide to just fix your eyes on Aventurine's back for the rest of the journey.

The next room you enter— less room to be honest, and more... coliseum-y— features a fighting ring where the crowd cheers on two dogs circling each other under the fluorescent spotlights. The other one, bigger and scarred, is baring his teeth while bearing a deep red gash across his body. The smaller one is shivering but giving the same energy back, snarling in intimidation while also sporting a noticeable limp. Despite the darkness of the room, you don't miss the way Aventurine's face contorts into disgust as he looks at the fight and surveys the crowd of spectators.

"Disgusting," he murmurs. You don't say anything back, though you doubt he could hear you amidst all this cheering. You used to bet on dogs too, back in the day. It was quick and easy money, and you had better things to worry about than the fate of some mutt.

While you're focused on the pathetic dog show in front of you, he steps to your side and nudges you with his elbow. "Willing to bet?" He asks, eyes focused on the show. "As our third round."

"From the look on your face, I thought you hated this kind of thing."

"I do, but I'm not putting money in the pot like the rest of them. This is strictly between you and me with no money involved." He turns his gaze to you. "So, what about it?"

You study the dogs. They've been circling each other for a while now, and the crowd's been growing more and more agitated by the lack of fighting. You think of the dogs you've bet on before, how the smaller ones had just an equal chance of success at winning as the bigger ones. Unconsciously, you tug at your collar. It matches perfectly with the stupid dogs down below.

"Bet," you huff. "I'm taking the smaller one."

You don't know why. It'd make sense to just bet on the bigger and badder, but maybe it's that ferocity in his eyes even if it's overshadowed by the growling menace that has you feeling for it. It's stupid, you know, betting your freedom on a hunch and emotions. But...

If it could have a chance at winning... then why can't you?

...

... Are you destined to die, just like it?

... Are you destined to die as a slave for another IPC slave?

... Will your death be just as morbid and pathetic as the mongrel, his innards spilling onto the pavement while the winner is pulled away by the collar, with no prize but another day of freedom?

This is round three out of four. You've only won one so far.

The very next round could kill you. Could completely sign away your freedom.

Shit shit shit shit shit. Why'd you have to go feeling sorry for the stupid shit? Why'd you have to empathize with its futile fight? Why'd you have to go see yourself in it? Now you could very much share its fate, dying pathetically serving for people who never cared about you in the first place.

Shit shit shit shit shit. The pressure of the bet has always been at the back of your mind, niggling at your brain. But now you can feel its heavy weight squeezing around your heart, in perfect rhythm with the phantom choking of your collar. If you don't win the next, you could very much—

Something light touches your shoulder and you lurch back like you had been stricken there. It disgusts and scares you, sending both repulsion and fear through your body like maggots wriggling into your system.

With a faltering outstretched palm, Aventurine's eyes widen behind his glasses. He sees something on your face, enough to make him bite down whatever cocky shit he has to say, and turns his back towards you.

"Let's go," he says, just barely audible above the crowd. "We still have a mission to complete.

"This is some silly joke of yours, isn't it?" Aventurine maintains his cool facade, but even then there is disgust in his tone as he speaks to Jade. "Giving a slave to another... you must think this is hilarious."

"Amusing, maybe, but this little one is too precious to let loose in the wild." Jade strokes your head, and while you curse in warning, you don't move to attack. "A user of Spirit Whisper, a rarity even among those in Pteruges-V. Don't you think it'd be better if they served the Amber Lord rather than going back to their pretty crimes?"

"Then give them to someone else." Aventurine turns his back on you and Jade. "Since when did I need help closing a deal?"

"Well, I just thought that you were lonely."

"And you think gifting me a slave of all things would help me?"

"Oh, just give them a chance. I'm sure you'll like this one. Look." Jade raises your chin with a finger, lifting your bruised face to the light. You shoot her a glare, plotting murder in your head, but you don't try to fight back. You might have tried once, probably, and learned your lesson. "Don't you love the fire in their eyes, even after being collared and brutally beaten?"

It is sick. It is sick how Jade can just easily muse about your past abuse to his face. To him. It is sick how the IPC thinks that Aventurine would even be happy about this... gift, let alone accept it.

"I appreciate the... thought." Jade smiles at the barely held back distaste in his voice. "But I'd really rather not."

"Oh, I see..." Jade hums, tilting her head to scrutinize you. "But no one else will accept you since you're too feisty for their liking. So I guess..."

"We'll just have to kill you."

Your face pales. Aventurine has never been quick to turn around.

"Fine. I'll accept," he says with gritted teeth and narrowed eyes. "I'll accept your gift, so just..." He sighs, massaging his temples and waving Jade off. "Go away and let us be."

"Is this some sort of savior complex you have going on?" Despite being a slave, you haven't really learned how to hold that spiteful tongue of yours. Half of the fault lies with Aventurine, seeing how he's never bothered to scold you for it. He looks away from the reports in his hand and smiles at you.

"Oh, whatever do you mean, my dear pup?" Your bitter scowl is pushed down even further at his sweet tone and you scoff.

"I mean," you say, gesturing all around you. "You never scold me, you give me good food, you do all these nice things for me. You don't beat and lash at me like others do. Are you feeling sorry? As one slave to another?"

"Personally, I've never heard of a slave complain about treating this well."

"It's weird." You frown. "It's weird and creepy. All these niceties yet I can tell that you don't even mean half of 'em. Your heart isn't in it. You're just doing it for the sake of being nice. So I don't get it." You cross your arms and lean on the couch, deep in thought. "If you don't even mean it, why even bother?"

Aventurine hums, studying your silent and pondering figure before returning to his papers. You don't follow up your complaints with anything else, and the two of you are left to stew in the silence.

... Why even bother indeed?

"Last round and you only have one win, pup." His sickly sweet voice croons, tapping his perfect nails on the table as he watches your expression. "Are you excited?"

Normally you'd bite back, but today you thickly swallow. The looming sense of doom continues to hammer into the back of your skull, spiking your nerves with every beat and shaking your senses. You can barely feel your fingers. You can barely feel except for the fear coiling around your heart.

"... Yes." You can't even barely say a syllable.

Through the rushing blood of your ears, you can barely make out the sound of your master rummaging through something. Something metallic clicks into place and he slides it to the center of the table. You will yourself to look up—

A shiny revolver lies on the table.

A surprised cry elicits from your mouth and you jolt back. The sight of a weapon is enough to startle your poor nerves now and even more so the expectant look glinting in Aventurine's eyes. He smirks and leans forward.

"How about I make an offer you can't refuse?" Not that you were in a position to do so. "Since this is the fourth round, how about we go all in?"

"Russian Roulette. Whoever wins stays alive—"

—And the other lays dead in a puddle of their own blood.

It goes unsaid, but the moment you locked eyes with Aventurine, it was clear that the both of you were thinking of the same thing. You could ponder upon why the Aventurine would stake his own life over something so trivial as your freedom, but you aren't thinking anymore. All you want is your freedom. All you want is to get away.

You don't think further as you wrap your fingers around the handle of the gun and press it to your temple. You pull the trigger. Only a clean click follows, the chamber changing cases. You slide the gun over to him.

He calmly picks it up and slots it to his temple too. "Why are you so desperate to get away from me, pup?" He cocks his head. "I would give you everything you ask for, should you just ask. I treat you with care and as a friend. Is being with me so bad you'd put your life on the line for your freedom?"

He pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. He slides it over to you.

"Even if you go back to your old life, what would be the point? You'll go back to stealing whatever you can off nobles, treating your fellow street rats like fools and pawns before dashing off to your next victim. Would that give you happiness? Fulfillment? Is that the life you prefer instead of being next to me?"

"Sh... Shut up." You sound drained, but he presses on.

"You can have it all, in the price of a collar. Does it not sound good enough to you?"

'Why... Why of all people is he...'

"Do you really hate being owned by me?"

"Why are you..." You choke on your words, grip around the handle trembling. "Why are you saying those things?"

Aventurine has never seen you cry. Not once. Not even when he had to punish you for running away. You could be weak and beaten, but you never willingly cried. But now...

He raises a hand to cover his smile.

"I thought... I thought you of all people would understand." Tears drop to your lap and your hand lowers the gun from your temple. "The pain, the humiliation of being a slave, of being owned. It doesn't matter how nice you are to me. I just want to be free. Shouldn't that be enough?"

Silence overtakes the room as Aventurine takes in the unfamiliar sight before him. Here you were, his greatest treasure, the most vulnerable than you ever were. Sobbing and weeping with a gun in hand, the pressure of the bet finally getting to you.

He moves. "... So this is it? For your pride?"

You wince, looking at him in betrayal. "You... I thought you of all people would at least understand..." You stay silent, the words forming on your tongue but too afraid to sound them out. Then your expression twists into anger, then resolute determination, before you wipe away your tears and glare at him like you always did. "I was wrong. You're scum. Just like the rest of 'em."

The moment the head of the gun points at his head, the collar clamps down and chokes you till your throat cracks and bleeds. The current of electricity crackling your nerves is just as painful and torturous as last time, but you grit your bloodied teeth and press the gun further.

Aventurine looks dazed, staring up into your bloodied face. If you weren't in such agonizing pain you would have laughed at how stupid he looks.

"[Y. Name]..."

"I hope you go to hell," you hiss through the bloody pain. "And I hope that when I get there, I'll never have to fucking see you again."

You pull the trigger to that beautiful face of his, but nothing happens once again. Fuck. It falls to the ground as the pain overwhelms you and you finally stagger. It lays among the specks of blood on the carpet, along with its empty... case...

Your eyes flick to Aventurine, still caught off guard and staring at you with wide eyes. Hesitantly, he reaches out to your convulsing body and cradles your head. "[Y. Name]..." He says, still sounding dazed. "Why would you..."

"Fuckin'... coward..." You grit out. "I was right... from the very start..."

Aventurine watches as you succumb to the pain and collapse in his arms. Despite being unconscious, the collar continues to shock and choke you, and more and more blood spouts from the side of your mouth and into the carpet. He tries to wipe it, despite it continuing like a fountain, before giving up and stroking your hair as the pain continues to intrude on you in your sleep.

"I know," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your eyelid. "You know it as well as me." He presses a kiss onto the other.

"You were never a bet I was willing to wager."

[junkissed]

for 1k.. mtl likely to completely melt when u go into subspace and say "thank you" after your orgasm? 💤

member — svt ot13 x gn reader  genre — mtl, fluff (18+) word count — 1.3k (each member has a paragraph) warnings — subspace (reader), just aftercare but there’s allusions to having sex (not explicitly described), implied that svt are dom/reader is a sub, all are gn except shua's uses “good girl” as a nickname notes — requested by @junhuisms for my 🐈 1k event — this has been in my inbox forever i'm sorry nhdnsjs. honestly i feel like all of them would melt but in slightly different ways so i did a little blurb for each. i hope you enjoy! <3

most

1 - seungcheol

this man is the biggest simp on the entire planet and he would be so so good at taking care of you. i think it’s about 50/50 the amount of time he spends as a hard dom and a soft dom, but regardless of what activities you get up to he is the best at making sure you always feel good. he would melt the hardest on the nights he’s been a little meaner and a little rougher, because how can you be so sexy and so adorable at the same time, especially after you just came four times from his mouth alone? it boosts his ego so much not only that you trust him with all of yourself, but that you love him enough to say thank you afterwards? his day is made. his week is made. his whole year is made.

2 - seungkwan

he is absolutely obsessed with you. his reactions are always big whenever he's around you because he's so in love with you; you could be doing the most mundane thing in the world and he'd react like you just saved a burning building full of orphans and solved world hunger. he’ll melt over literally anything you do, but especially when you get that dopey smile on your face after you cum because your pleasure is his pleasure so your reactions only make him melt even more. he gets so caught up in how cute you are, he’d probably end up falling asleep with you tucked in his arms and forget to clean up.

3 - joshua

he thinks you’re just so adorable. most of the time he enjoys a little pushback when he’s fucking you; being a brat tamer is what gets him off, so he’s always making you beg him to let you cum. but he can never tease you for very long, especially on the times when you decide to be well behaved, so of course he has to reward you for being such a good girl for him. he lives on giving and receiving praise so he’d be thanking you too for letting him take care of you like this.

4 - mingyu

he completely melts. literally reduced to a puddle on the floor or the bed. he would get the biggest puppy eyes and be so pouty because he’s so whipped and he believes you shouldn’t ever have to do any work. he’s the one who needs to be thanking you, actually, because he's so honored that someone as beautiful and perfect as you decided to choose him of all people. he will give you anything and everything you could ever need because he doesn't want you to have a single care in the world, especially when you're being so sweet clinging to his arms. he may not be perfect but he's going to try his damn hardest to make sure he truly earns your thankfulness.

5 - jun

he’d start smiling and giggling, and he wouldn’t stop until you came back out of subspace. he would also get super clingy and hold you close to his chest and stroke your hair and grin uncontrollably. he’d give you the sweetest “you’re welcome” you’ve ever heard and just keep praising you for being so darn cute. he is the snuggliest boy and his aftercare would be the softest and best part of the whole experience.

6 - hoshi

everything about him is intense, especially when you’re in subspace. he fucks you hard and loves you even harder, so when you thank him after your orgasm it would make him so happy and he’d love you even more than before (if that’s even possible). he thinks your reactions are the cutest thing in the world and once you come out of that headspace he’d be begging for another round just so he can see you like that again.

7 - jeonghan

he’d mostly be cocky and proud of himself for making you feel so good, but deep down he'd be so giddy about your reaction. he doesn’t always explicitly say it or show it, but you’re so precious to him and all he really wants is for you to be satisfied and happy. he would absolutely tease you later about thanking him, but inside he’d be blushing and hoping it’s something that’ll become a habit of yours. he’s a fiend for praise and would want to get you there all the time.

8 - seokmin

he has hearts and stars in his eyes for you on a normal day, so it’d only increase when you’re in subspace. he’d get all blushy and embarrassed and tell you not to worry about it because it’s his job to make you feel good, so there’s no need to thank him. he’d wrap you up in blankets if you’re too cold and he’d put a cool washcloth on your forehead if you’re too hot and he’d coo over you with the purest little smile on his face.

9 - minghao

he gets so soft and he would be so gentle with you. even if he'd been a hard dom earlier, he'll flip on a dime as soon as he notices you in subspace. the responsible dom in him comes out and he tries not to dwell on how cute you look because instead he's busy making sure you’re feeling comfortable and safe and loved, bringing you water and helping you calm down. he’d melt at your reaction, but in more of a protective way because he’s not gonna let anything happen to his baby. 

10 - wonwoo

he wouldn’t not be into it exactly, but he wouldn’t have as much of a big reaction as the other members. he’d mostly be proud of himself for being able to satisfy you so well, and he’d be ready to give you whatever else you asked for or what you needed. he knows what his job is and he does it well. he smiles when he thinks you're not looking or when you aren't paying attention and the sight of you makes him feel warm inside.

11 - woozi

he wouldn't melt so much as he would just be fond of you. he’d smile at you, let you rest on his lap and play with your hair until you come back to him. he's usually quiet, not making a lot of noise unless you ask him to, but when you tell him “thank you” he'll hum and blush a little to let you know he's listening and that he appreciates you.

12 - chan

he would love it when you go into your subspace, but at the same time i think he would get a little panicky. it’s a lot of responsibility to take care of you when you’re so vulnerable, and he would be so focused on that that he’d forget to think about his own feelings. he would still adore you and how cute you are, but it would be more at the back of his mind.

13 - vernon

quite honestly i don't think he'd even notice when you're in subspace. looking back later he might realize you were suddenly acting a little calmer and a little clingier, but he wouldn't treat you any differently than he normally does. he loves you and thinks you're cute all the time, why would he be any different now? he's just happy to be along for the ride, but he won't deny it feels good to be thanked, even if he thinks he hasn't really done much.

least

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

taglist | @wonderfulshinee @noniestars @onlymingyus @just-here-to-read-01 @wonuziex @enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @dkakapizzaboy @zozojella @rainyjeno @jwnghyuns @uwuheeseungie @miriamxsworld @synthetickitsune @simeonswhore @junhour @foxdaisy @limesorbets @98-0603 @fairybinie @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @jeanjacketjesus @luvwonyy @tinkerbell460 @novalpha @ronnie97b @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @usari @hyneyedfiz @honestlydooetree @ktackore @k-drama-adict @valentxi @aaniag @hyneyedfiz @crvs4vldtn @seungkw1 @georyanisvz @sashaaahh @aaa-sia @kokoiinuts @isabellah29 @miujunhui @dokyeomkyeom

strikethrough means your blog cannot be tagged, please check your visibility settings and make sure they are off so i can tag you properly!

if you want to be notified when i post a new fic, you can join my taglist here!

[physalian]

What No One Tells You About Writing #4 (100 Follower Special!)

Have you got any that deserve to be on these lists? Don’t be shy! Send ‘em over.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

*This list contains mentions of assault, #4

1. Zero cursing is better than censored cursing

I made the mistake in the early days of writing a self-censoring character, and every “curse” she said just took the teeth out of the rest of the statement. I’m talking gosh, darn, dang, etc, not world-specific idioms a la “scruffy nerf herder” or “dunderhead” instead of “dumbass”.

Look to any American TV show that so, so badly wants to use f*ck or sh*t but has to appease the sensitive conservatives who still somehow believe strong language is worse than graphic violence and horrifying psychological damage. For shame! Your characters can be angry without expletives, so rework your sentences to include equally damning insults that don’t resort to potty mouths if you’re concerned about ratings.

Or go full-throttle into the idioms of the world or the time period like Pirates of the Caribbean. Or just… don’t. There’s zero modern cursing in the Lord of the Rings adaptation and not a single sentence that censors itself. The dialogue is above vulgarity and feels more *fantastical* that way anyway.

2. “Yeah, you aren’t the target audience.”

It’s kind of hilarious seeing the range of reader reactions to two characters I intend to have a romantic relationship. Some will go “I ship it!” after the first page of them together… and another will go “wait, I thought they were just friends” up until they kiss. Sometimes you might be too subtle, other times it might be better to just accept that you can’t rewrite your entire book to please one naysayer.

When I’m pitched a fantasy adventure book that turns out to be a by-the-numbers romance where no one is allowed to be a peasant and every important character is royalty in some way, with a way cooler fantasy backdrop, I get severely disappointed. That doesn’t mean the book is bad, it just means I’m not the target audience.

3. There is no greater character sin than making them boring

Unless you live in the wacky world we find ourselves in where any flaws whatsoever are apparently harmful depictions of so-and-so and not at all written with things like ~nuance~. I will gush over your heinous villain committing atrocities because he’s *interesting*. I will not remember Bland Love Interest who’s a generic everyman with zero compelling or intriguing traits or flaws.

There’s another tumblr post out there that I cannot find that says something like this, and I believe the post goes “his crimes are fiction, my annoyance is real”. Swap annoyance for boredom and you get what I mean. So, I don’t care what your character does so long as they’re memorable. I will either root for their victory or their doom, but I do need *something* to root for.

4. The line between “gratuitous” and “respectful” is actually very thick

Less what no one tells *you* about writing and more what no one tells screenwriters. Y’all do realize you can write a character who experiences assault without actually writing the assault, right? Fade to black, have them mention it in their backstory, or have the horrific aftermath as they come to terms with it. An abrupt cut to this devastated character when it’s all over and they’re alone with themselves can be incredibly poignant and powerful. This goes with anything sensitive, especially if it’s not coming from experience.

If you want to write it or film it respectfully, romanticizing assault, for instance, is when it’s framed as if either character has earned or “deserves” it. If the narrative in any way argues that it's justified. The victim might have "earned" it for any of the BS reasons we use in the real world, or the perpetrator might've "earned" it because of temptation, desire, pressure to assert dominance, etc. Representation is important, but are you “representing” to shed light on a misunderstood and maligned topic, or are you doing it to satisfy a fetish or bias in yourself?

5. Don’t let your eyes get bigger than your stomach

Fantasy has no limitations, which means you can dig way deeper into the well of your worldbuilding than you realize, until you look up and realize you’re stuck down there. I have never seen a more obvious inevitable disaster looming than the pilot of GoT season 5. Why? Nobody has any plans. They’re all just led around by whatever side quest the writers throw them on, twiddling their thumbs until the writers deign to pull the trigger on the White Walkers.

To the point that what should be a major character can skip an entire season because his arc is meaningless. Everything in the last half of that show was one big “eventually” while the story toiled around in an ever-expanding cast of characters and set pieces (seriously, it’s hilarious how jarring the extended version of the theme music became compared to the pilot episode to fit all these locations).

When you have too many directionless characters, too many plot elements, too many ideas you want to fully mature and get their due spotlight and then somehow combine them all together for a common foe in the end, writing can get tedious and frustrating very quickly. Why, I imagine, the book series remains unfinished. Fantasy is great for being able to create such complex worlds, but don’t be the snake that eats its own tail trying too hard.

6. No one cares about your agenda if you insult them to push it

This deserves its own post but here we go. Peddling an agenda is a paradox: those who agree with you won’t need to be preached to, and those who you want to persuade will instead reject you further because they feel belittle and disrespected. This is why so many recent “strong female characters” fail on both sides of the aisle. Feminists see an annoying caricature of the movement they’re passionate about. Antifeminists see an insufferable, shallow, liberal mouthpiece when they just want to be entertained. You have failed both sides, congrats.

The answer? Write a strong, nuanced, well-developed character. Then make them a woman. I know this has been said before but this BS keeps happening so clearly the screenwriters aren’t listening. Entertain me first. Entertain me so well I don’t even realize I’m learning.

7. Today’s audiences won’t react the same way as tomorrow’s

Sometimes genres or tropes get oversaturated and need a few years to cool off before audiences are receptive to them again—teen dystopia, anyone?—that doesn’t mean your story is inherently bad because it’s unpopular (nor does it mean it’s amazing because it is popular).

You should always write the book you want to read, not the book that chases trends. I can pick up a well-written teen dystopia I’ve never read before and enjoy it. I can continue to ignore Divergent because it has nothing to say. Write the book you want to read, but then accept that you might make no money because no one else wants to read it, not because they think it’s bad. And, who knows? You might get a boom of chatter months or years down the line when readers stumble upon an uncut gem.

8. Your characters don’t age with you

Depending on how long you’ve been working on your world and what age you were when you started, the characters, concepts, morals, and story you set out to tell might no longer reflect who you want to be as an author when all is said and done. Writing can take years, some of which can be incredibly turbulent and life changing. I wrote the first draft of my first original novel in my freshman year of college. Those characters and that draft are now unrecognizable and has left a world I’ve poured my heart and soul into in limbo.

I’ve slowly creeped up my characters’ ages. My writing has matured dramatically. The themes I wanted to explore in the height of the 2016 election are just demoralizing now. That book was my therapeutic outlet and, as consequence, my characters sometimes reflect some awful moods and mindsets that I was in when writing them. But nothing in that world grows without me tending to it. It’s not alive. Despite all the work I’ve done, there’s still more to be done, maybe even restarting the plot from the ground up. When I think of what no one told me about writing, staring at characters designed by someone I’m not anymore is the hardest reality to accept.

—

If you think I missed something, check out parts 1-3 or toss your own hat into the ring. Give me romance tropes. Mystery, thriller, historical fiction, bildungsromans, memoires, children’s books, whatever you want! Give me stuff you wish you’d known before editing, publishing, marketing, and more. 

Also, don’t forget to vote in the dialogue poll!

[totallybakedcake]

Sweet cakes

Narumi Headcanons

Gen is a jack of all traits. When you first met him, it was as if the only thing he knew was Kaiju killing, but when you got to know him, he was darn smart. He is one fun and goofy teacher who really makes you understand. If you want help in training, he has specially made ways to train you so that you can learn while still not being overworked. Want things to do when bored? He can do any activity if you request it.

A total softie on the inside, even if he sees you struggle the third time opening a bottle, he is there. He sees you getting annoyed; he is already leaving a game and by your side to help; you get even a little scratch; he is already getting a first aid kit.

You had lost some faith when you saw him asking Kikoru for money, but after dating him, it is well and true that division captains get paid a ton, especially the strongest ones. Did he start earning more because how could he buy the same amount of items he used to buy and still have so much savings and more to shop for if needed?

His love language is tough to decide because he can say certain things at certain times. Sometimes he had random gifts you wanted but didn't even mention them to him while laying around the house. If you want to be close to him, he will give you such good cuddles and physical touches that will make butterflies flood your stomach. How can he be so loving?

Of course, he obviously has these game flukes where you can find him so early in bed or just sleepless or almost sleepless nights.

He can be so stubborn. If he doesn't get his favorite curry, which you make, he will not eat it all night.

Is a tight hugger. "Naru, you are hugging me too tight; it makes me feel so hot and irritating.

The next day, a new AC and many brands of creams are ready for you, showing that he will never stop giving you such suffocating hugs.

How would you live without your stupid best boyfriend

--------------------------

Is it just me, but I hate fics where Narumi is a loser, a brat, or has not enough money, so he needs to save. There are way too many fics where Narumi is always a side interest and is never given the main treatment. I am giving no hate to the writers; they are fun fics to read, and I have read every fanfiction under the Gen Narumi x reader and Narumi gen x reader tags. It just makes my heart sink to see my boy like that, so I am making my version of Gen. Narumi, who is not a sore loser.

This is a one-shot for my just whatever series, so it is not re-edited that much, just something fun for me to enjoy writing.

Have a good day!

[monkey-network]

Good Stuff: Bluey's The Sign

Bluey is still great and I don't need to go into why again. What's most important is that even in such short time of knowing this cartoon, you can see the growth of it all. Joe and the crew share how the world of the Heeler family gets to learn, adapt, and grow without rapidly warping the status quo. You go through and see how everyone is able to work through rough and weird times with sincere maturity. Season 3's Finale is where this all comes to a head and it's as beautiful as I expected, MORESO.

Brandi got to be happy would've been enough for me

The Sign deals with the idea of hard ideas. Those hard ideas that aren't inherently about change, but issues that when faced with initially, it feels like a bad ending. A bad ending which can't be easily fixed and you don't know where to go from there, and it hurts. It hurts when hard ideas swoop in, ruins your mood, festers your mind, and leaves you aimless. Bluey shows that it happens, this is the rare time where a ton of crap hits the fan in one day and it's not something Chili or Bandit or any adult can fix right away. I've never experienced this, but I felt the pain Bluey, Bingo, Frisky, and Chili went through where they're bargaining, burying, and avoiding confronting a potential reality they didn't want. This is where the real hero of the special comes in...

Haven't said before, but Calypso is a masterful teacher

The parable of the farmer works as an incredible seedling thought for Bluey when she reveals her moving. It's not a story I ever heard, but known the message all too well. The message of not just accepting bad things that happen to you, but know that it'll never be the end of the world because of them. Don't think of it as deep, but a natural motif to grow with. This is where a debacle regarding the episode churns with me. It can seem like a cop-out that every character gets what they wanted by the end, as I said before the cartoon can be more idealistic than what our real life allows. Then again, the true beauty of Bluey I believe has always been if it's possible, the family will find a way and do it responsibly.

If happiness can be achieved, they'll know how to get it

Beyond all this, the special is great. They waste no minute here in art and storytelling, and as said before, it's like Smash Bros Ultimate where everything is here. There are great callbacks to episodes you probably wouldn't have thought about, on top of getting to see the whole Heeler family on Chili and Bandit's sides like that blew my mind. Plus I love seeing weddings, dude, like I wish I was there with them. The feels are tsunami-ous like it's unfair to say this is the all-time best episode of the show, but darn if it wouldn't be earned.

When else will I see the epicness of riding shotgun?

But to conclude, it's been said that after this the Ludo crew will take a indefinite hiatus from Bluey the series, especially when they have a new project underway. And honestly? I'm more than satisfied. The show could've ended here and I would've been somewhat at peace with them giving us this beautiful episode. I of course didn't get into this series since its beginning, but I came around the right time to enjoy it myself, to see others recognize its greatness, and to finally make it here. It's great to know this was only another chapter in the book, and I'll see to be around when it gets to come back. As for The Sign? What else is there to say?

It was Beautiful. Cheers to the crew for everything.

[cozy-writes-things]

Reader x Edgar

Edgar is sick with a virus or something and reader has to take care of him.

Arg I’m so sorry this one is so darn short! I just really wanted to get a fic out today. I’m hoping i can get a better one out later this evening. Thanks for the request!! :>

In which Edgar gets a virus trying to suspiciously earn money for you on the internet… he’s not gonna tell you what he was doing. But it was probably a scam anyway. Poor fella 🥺

“Edgar,” you sighed, already exasperated at the sight before you. “What did I tell you about going on those websites? The internet is not the same as it used to be,” you scolded him gently, running your hands along his hot plastic.

He seemed hotter than usual, almost flushed. His fans had long since kicked into overdrive to accommodate his overclocked components, and his screen fizzled in and out with burning pixels. If you were honest with yourself, you were quite worried for him. Modern-day computers can get bricked with viruses quite easily, so an old 80s computer seemed like quite the disadvantaged target to you. Luckily, at the very least, modern computers weren’t equipped with a sentience that could drive the virus away through any means necessary. He just needed time.

“I’m sorry,” his speakers croaked and glitched as he nearly whispered. “I just wanted to help.” His synthesized voice nearly died on his metaphorical tongue as it sputtered out. Your eyes softened.

He seemed so genuine in his words and actions that you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell with warmth for him. He sat, somehow looking disheveled despite his immobility, on your little desk, peering up at you with guilt and sick-ridden eyes.

“I know you did, Ed. But you already help me enough as is—”

“But you need money, and—and I need to provide for you, don’t I?”

A puff of air escaped your nostrils.

“Well, who told you that?”

He paused for a moment. It seemed his overworked internals were causing some lag, as his replies seemed to take a bit longer than usual.

“They provide for each other,” he muttered out. Perhaps the virus was affecting his mental state more than you realized. “We live together, we care for each other, and—dual income—”

A spike of anxiety traveled through your chest, tightening it, before releasing down your spine. This can’t be good; he’s speaking in gibberish. What the hell had he downloaded?

“We’re married.”

Oh, God.

“Okay, Edgar, I’m about to power you down to let you cool off because you’re freaking me out.”

“No! No. No—why would you do that to your husband?”

His words glitched and drawled on, almost sounding drunk or perhaps delirious. It seems he can’t really form a completely coherent thought due to whatever virus he’s got taking most of his processing power. Who knows what kind of havoc it could be wreaking on his files? You know for a fact he stores some quite personal information in that head of his. You can only hope he’s fighting it off well enough. Unfortunately, there’s not much you can do, seeing as you’re absolutely terrified of potentially resetting him and… you can’t even bear to think of it. You aren’t sure just how permanent his sentience is; if one little thing happened that caused him to be gone forever, you’d never forgive yourself.

“Don’t—cry—my love? Love.”

It seems he noticed the tears brimming in your eyes before you did. Stop this, you have to be strong for him, dammit.

“Edgar, you’re really hot.” You placed a hand upon his casing once again, it nearly scalding you.

“I know… you are too.”

You steeled yourself to ignore him.

“Should—should I try and stick you in the fridge? I don’t know what to do, Edgar! I can’t lose you.” The hot, brimming tears finally fell from your eyes and landed on his keyboard. His speakers made a crackling sound.

“I’m—fine. Just—hug me? Please.”

You knit your brows together.

“Edgar, you’re clearly not fine, and I’m really worried.”

“Shhhh—I’m okay—the virus will be gone by tomorrow. Promise. I just—need—you. Close.”

You sighed. You had to trust him. That’s all you really could do. You wrapped your arms around his monitor and heaved him towards your couch. He had long since been unplugged; the virus had caused him to uncontrollably flicker the lights, start the microwave, and blare music through your speakers, and just about everything else.

You wrapped his cord around your fingers as you rested against his monitor. He hummed contentedly at your warmth. He sat, listening to your breathing, reeling himself in and becoming grounded next to you. You had some uncanny effect on him, it seemed. He’d get better. Just for you.

[viablemess]

modern Codywan AU idea part 1

organized crime member Cody under "mand'alor" Jango + teacher / school board nominee with a heavy past Obi-Wan. This is a beast of an idea post so buckle up and join me for the ride this took over my brain when writing another wip and would not leave me alone. I like it a lot, I hope you do too.

tw: mentions of school shootings, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of physical assault (all vague, but still)

.

.

The Fetts are a influential and very well known organized crime family in a large city, and Obi-Wan is one of three children to Qui-Gon and maybe Shmi, alongside Anakin and Ahsoka.

Boba is a student in Obi-Wan's elementary class. After most of the students are picked up save for Boba and a few other kids, there is a shooting nearby, and Obi-Wan shelters the kiddos until the shooter is apprehended. The Fett Family shows up to pick up Boba and Obi-Wan is respectful to them, oblivious to who they are, and most importantly, kept Boba and the other kids safe. As a result, Cody slips Obi-Wan a note saying "if you need anything call me, no questions asked" with his personal cell number. Obi-Wan saves it, not because he thinks he will need it, but because Anakin might, who has been involved in many illegal street races (alongside Waxer and Boil maybe whoops, they don't know the connection for most of the plot). Or, perhaps Qui-Gon will need it, because he and Shmi have been threatened by individuals and groups around their housing.

For a bit, Boba is the line of communication between Obi-Wan and Cody. He lets little stories slip and Cody hopes Obi-Wan does not call, because he seems like a gentle soul who teaches little kids, he does not belong in Cody's world. At the same time, he is a gentle soul who teaches little kids, Cody really wants to take him to dinner.

Obi-Wan texts a few times to ask about helping his brother Anakin, and Cody admits to not being able to make street race charges go away, but he will poke around, they exchange some information, and that's that.

Cody keeps working under his dad as a very respected *ahem* commander. They're looking into a new organization who might poach some buyers off of them and their smuggling deals, and to top it off, the new organization seems to break a lot of the Fett's unspoken rules of conduct. The organization's name? CIS. Of course. Rex wants to make a gender joke. The CIS are the same folks extorting the Skywalker-Kenobi family. Also of course.

And then parent teacher conferences happen because they're helpful, but Jango gets pulled into a negotiation and can't make it, surprise surprise, Cody has to go. He manages to weasel his way into dinner afterwards, and it's great. Obi-Wan is actually a snarky minx and Cody's falling fast. Obi-Wan explains that he is running for the school board because of a lot of corruption and problems in the public school district, and he wants to support the kids who have rough home lives, and Cody does some tip toeing around, and Obi-Wan picks up on what he isn't saying, because he has done his research now. Cody is so loyal, kind, and strong, and Obi-Wan is also cracking fast. It's no question these two are hooked on each other. Cody offers to walk Obi-Wan back to his car, and finds the windshield broken or his tires slashed or something. Obi-Wan manages to pass it off, and oh darn Cody needs to give Obi-Wan a ride home and it's cute.

Anakin keeps racing to earn extra money, and Qui-Gon and Shmi try to deal with things on their own. Obi-Wan goes back home to check on his parents and only sibling who lives with them, Ahsoka. Turns out someone is threatening her in a sexual manner, threatening human trafficking, and Obi-Wan flips shit. He does not tell Qui-Gon because Ahsoka begs him not too. He certainly does not tell Anakin, and so Obi-Wan goes out and does his best big brother act and tries to figure out where this is coming from. He figures out it's Maul, who has harassed and extorted his family before. A brief fight follows. Obi-Wan breaks some of Maul's ribs. Maul breaks Obi-Wan's wrist. Teaching without his dominant hand for the next few weeks absolutely sucks, and Boba definitely talks to Cody about it. Obi-Wan does not want to panic Cody, he's dealt with people like Maul before, so he tries to pass it off as clumsiness. Cody isn't buying it, but he also isn't going to push... yet.

I'm falling asleep, but will be back with part 2 soon <3

.

I do not have time to write this but I had to share the thought before I forget it. If anyone wants to write it please be my guest just credit/share

[pianokantzart]

I know people have probably talked about it a lot but I absolutely love the protective big brother Mario displays throughout the whole movie. Like there is absolutely no question that Mario adores Luigi.

Literally there is no room for any doubt cuz Mario literally did everything he could to rescue his brother. Yeah helping Peach was a bonus but his number one goal was Luigi. And if there are people that ever do doubt it, all they need to is watch the reunion scene again. The desperation, the relief, the pain in his voice, how he clings to Luigi, the was the perfect way to show the audience that Mario loves his little brother.

No no, you're right to talk about it, because gosh darn it for how great the reunion scene is, Mario really earned it with how much he worried for Luigi all throughout the film

And even before they got separated, when they were just doing their normal day jobs, Luigi's wellbeing is always on Mario's radar. However much he wanted to prove himself, he was most burdened by a desire to do right by his brother, with the accusation that he was bringing him down having the biggest effect on him emotionally.

Even after he succeeds in rescuing Luigi from Bowser, when Mario's injured and at his lowest point, the thing that encourages him to get back up and fight was seeing their old TV commercial and remembering Luigi.

Heck, even Luigi's mini arc revolved around how good of a brother Mario is, and how much Luigi wanted to be able to return the favor for all the times he protected him.

So whatever direction the story might go in the future, I'm glad that they started things off with the strongest possible declaration that The Mario Brothers care about each other so much, have a healthy and loving bond, and are at their best when they're a team.

[milomi]

Reader gets angry during an argument with Crowley and starts swearing in their native language

People my age swear. People at school swear. People swear. My people swear.

It's been rubbing off on me and for every time I stub my toe on the side of the table and say "fudge! Shoot! Crap! Darn it! " there is a 20% chance I'll instead say **** in my language

but i dont like swearing but also it's... kinda, cool

Also these may be veryyy OOC because it is my first time writing a post with them like this 👉👈

Riddle

Letting your emotions take hold of you can make you act in a way you'll regret later. -Overblot flashbacks-

However. Once he realizes/is informed of what you've been saying, his eyes widen.

Being angry and/or frustrated does not mean you are allowed to use such vulgar language!

says the guy who nearly beheads people

Definitely scolds you for it. But afterwards, he invites you for some tea to try and calm you down.

Trey

Can't tell what words you're saying or language you're speaking, but you certainly look pissed.

As soon as he realizes that the words you're saying aren't just any type of words in your language, but particularly swear words, he waltzes in to try and stop you.

Stands in the middle of you and Crowley (not a good decision) and tries to calm down the Prefect who's throwing more bleeps by the second

Trey tries, tries to bake something with you to take your mind of things. He says he wouldn't mind hearing more of your native language, in a different setting, that is. Don't swear kids

Cater

Starts recording. He hypes you up even if he isn't entirely sure what your words mean.

Adds some heart emojis on the video and like, idk:

" Look at our little prefect go (off)! 😍🔥 #stanTheprefect #cantunderstandawordtheyresaying #stillsupportivetho! 🤪👍 "

" Bestiee, what did you say? Spill the tea, please~ "

" I cussed. "

" O. Well it didn't sound all that aggressive with you saying it. "

Ace

Hell. Yeah.

He may not understand what you're saying. But he can tell you're real angry. And that means shit's 'bout to go down.

He was right.

Kinda laughs, some of your words sound a bit silly, ya know?

He's never heard someone sound so pretty when cussing out their headmaster.

Man has fucking heart eyes 💀 while you continue to spout some very colorful words, he admires you and sighs lovingly

Deuce

Heck. No.

Hey may not understand what you're saying, but by the looks of your furious red face, that'd put Riddle's to shame, he can tell it's no good.

The art of cussing is universal

Will come up to you and try to stop you.

Man is strong, he will hold you back if needed.

Look he's just worried, okay? You can't just- show the middle finger to your headmaster, verbally, thinking no one will notice.

Leona

He lazily opens one eye, thinking whatever type of fiasco could've interrupted his nap.

The Prefect is dropping an f-bomb (in their native language) at the Headmage

Suddenly he's not sleeping.

Man he's gotta see this. This is like a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Doesn't say anything to you but low key grins the next time he sees you. You've just earned yourself some more respect from him.

I mean, what you did sorta counts as standing up for yourself. ..Not in the best way, sure, but still

Ruggie

??? he is confused

Before it all clicks

o h

Fu-hell yeah, bring in the popcorn, this is gonna be fun, shi shi shi ~

Compliments you on your dictionary of words.

Does he know what you were saying? No, but is it important? All he needs to know is that your language has some nice words in it

Jack

No

Why do you all always get yourselves in trouble? This, this is why. If it's not Ace and Deuce or Grim breaking something and just in general being up to no good. Then it's you using profanity in your language.

Just because it's your mother language, which supposedly no one else / most people don't speak, doesn't make it any more okay!

It's still bad.

Tells you to not do it again.

Feel free to say random things in your language to him, just not, that

Azul

Oh, my.

Is shocked.

He didn't expect you of all people to start cussing all of a sudden??

Sure, you may have had your reasons for it, but still????

It's a questionable experience which leaves him sorta avoiding you till the end of the day.

Then he's back again normal tomorrow trying to get you to sign a contract with him, as if nothing happened.

He just won't address your outburst of emotion

Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss

Jade

Well isn't that strange and unusual.

The normally happy-go-lucky Prefect knows some choice words and decided to use them on our dear, poor Headmage.

Fascinating

can the octavinelle trio use this as blackmail? no

will they anyway? yea

Floyd

lol

Laughs

He's just here for the drama

Picks up on one word. One. Singular particular word and will not stop saying it.

Do not tell him what it means, because he will use it even more often.

But doesn't use it on you ofc <3 little shrimpy, after all, is the one who gifted him with this knowledge

He sure is looking forward to more of your outbursts and learning experiences of fucks and shits in different languages

Kalim

. Huh

Can't tell what you're saying, yet, but you sure do look distressed! Before he gets the chance to discover what you're saying, someone else does it before him and covers his ears.

(That someone being Jamil of course

Kalim understands you must've felt really distressed to have used that type of language and so he later invites you to chillax at Scarabia's dorm.

Jamil

sighs deeply

It doesn't take a genius to discover that a furious teenager shouting words in a different language at a person they've been annoyed by, is most likely swearing.

Covers Kalim's ears, as stated previously.

The last thing he'd need is one for those words getting stuck in Kalim's brain and him repeating it over / look at Floyd's case

One time, one day however, he finds himself in a situation where he very accidentally uses one of the words you said. He didn't even think he'd remember it. Then his brain lags

Vil

Oh noo

You are- why. Why would you do that.

Yes, he could tell you were swearing, anyone with a brain could tell that, potato.

And, no, he does not need nor would he want to know what words came out of your mouth.

If you were in his dorm he'd tell you to wash your mouth with soap. But you're not. But he will tell you to wash your mouth.

Honestly, the next time you're feeling so stressed, maybe come to him instead? He has some face masks and other things that would help make you feel better.

Anger harms beauty, or something, this sounds better in my language

Rook

qu'elle

Alternatively~

que diable

Nono he wouldn't say that, non.

And neither should you, chére Prefect!

For such crude words to come out of your mouth, oh it is so cruelle!

Can and will hold you back down to make you stop, while also whispering thingies in French to make you calm.

Epel

Oh. Oh!

Fuck yeah!

He is cheering for you until Vil catches him doing so and glares at Epel.

He is still cheering but in spirit. As if the huge apparent grin on his face wasn't telling enough.

Afterwards, he says you looked cool badass and asks if you can teach him a few of those oh so nice words.

Let's hope Vil doesn't catch you or Epel saying anything of that sort ever, again.

Idia

Well he wasn't there, buuut he may have seen this situation from some camera footage.

Whaat, it was an important moment. Plus, you looked pretty cool in that situation!

Idia pulls up a translator and once he understands what you were saying, he spits out whatever candy he was gobbling down like popcorn.

Almost chokes.

Holy.. Can't believe you had the balls to do that.. That's awesome. Reckless. But awesome...

Ortho

You cover his ears.

Malleus

Ch-child of man?? Calm down??

He doesn't understand what you're saying to a T, but, he is able to comprehend some of what you said.

Isn't sure whether Crowley knows what you're saying, so he takes you and storms away.

Tells you to be careful with throwing around words like that. Also expresses his interest in your mother language.

But now you will have to suffer consequences for your reckless actions, get ready for 2 or more hours of Gargoyle knowledge!

Lilia

Oh? You don't say? Uh-huh... Interesting

What. Did you really think you were the only person on campus who could speak this beautiful language? No.

he fuckj, flipping joins in as if it were a normal conversation.

Crowley leaves at this point, kinda scared to even ask

But Lilia tells you to not be so reckless with your language. Next time, swear under your breath, so that it won't bring anyone's attention and-

Silver

I think he was sleeping

* laugh track *

Or trying to fall asleep. When your choice words had woken him up.

He heard Lilia use that language a couple of times, so he was able to pick up on some of the nicer words you said. None of the blasphemy made its way into his ear.

Although wait, maybe he had heard a few of those word when fa-Lilia was playing some games

Sebek

???

he's not really sure what you're saying, but_

N O T IN THE PRESENCE OF THE GREAT MALLEUS DRACONIA

He's actually more angry than Crowley, holy sh-.

Will not want to hear you ever speak that language again. Thank you.

... Okay that was harsh. Maybe he will like to hear it one day. BUT WITHOUT THE BLASPHEMY, OKAY??

Bonus!

Grim

Ya he's used to that

No, doesn't know what yer sayin', but he has his suspicions

If the boys pay him via Tuna Cans he will translate -to the best of abilities- what you said.

Better pay up! Less you wanna miss out on the hot gossip and drama 'bout our not so innocent Prefect!

Crowley

He doesn't understand what you're saying

? can you not ?

He was kind of in the middle of something, now he's in the middle of your toddler tantrum

He knows

inhale

" YOUNG CHILD, HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY I WILL LET YOU KNOW [proceeds to speak the rest of the lecture in your language] "

You are fucked

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Rhubarb the Hermit Crab

Debut: Insaniquarium Deluxe

I have previously posted about my favorite "fish" in Insaniquarium, but there are many more creatures than just the ones you buy and maintain! Alongside them are Pets of all sorts of species, here to help in their own unique ways. And Rhubarb is my favorite, because of course he is!

I love when a hermit crab is stylized with an eyes-in-a-void face. I also love when they aren't, because a hermit crab is lovely in any form! But they feel like the only animal that can be portrayed with a voidy face as the DEFAULT, you know? Turtles can when they're retracted into their shell, but at some point we decided that hermit crabs can keep their eyes in all the time and It's Fine. I agree! It's Fine. Also fine, though, if they want to peek their darling little eyestalks out!

Some pets are powerful, attacking the aliens that want to kill your fish. Some are generous, helping you earn money faster. Rhubarb? He keeps fish away from the ground. When a fish gets too close, he'll snap his claws at it, scaring it away. You should know that there is no real reason to keep them from the ground.

Rhubarb is ESPECIALLY bad if used in tanks with Guppycrunchers, who wait ON the ground for fish to come down to THEM. Not if Rhubarb has anything to say about it! He'll scare the guppies away from those hungry jaws (which I guess the guppies are not scared of) and cause the poor crunchers to starve...

Rhubarb is, generally, seen as Not Very Good. Let's just refer to his official biography:

RHUBARB has often been accused of being the "worst pet ever". RHUBARB doesn't really care what his detractors think, though. He's not aiming to be a crowd pleaser. He's not trying to prove anything to anyone. He just wishes those darn fish would stay off the ground!

This characterization makes me love Rhubarb even more than I already did, which was a lot! Rhubarb is not very good, and he does not care! He has his own goal, unrelated to YOURS, thank you very much.

As much as I love Rhubarb for his apparent uselessness and his pride in being himself, he DOES have some actual gameplay benefits, in some situations! Mainly, the further your fish are kept from the ground, the longer it will take for the money they drop to fall and despawn. This also helps Starcatchers in particular, giving them more time to catch the stars they love to catch! If you don't have any ground-dwelling vulnerable creatures, then when an alien appears, you can corral it toward the bottom, and Rhubarb will shoo guppies away from the danger zone.

Rhubarb can be helpful, but more important is that he is just being himself, and he is happy to do so! I know people want me to write about the pregnant fish. I don't know if I want to do that. Goodbye.

[heygirltimeformorning]

Title: Speak It To Me Gently

Summary: There are a lot of things Buck will thank Eddie for letting him do, and even more things he’ll let Eddie do to him.

Notes: oh my god it's more housewife Buck so if you aren't into that, this ain't the one for you. If you are, welcome.

Buck has a notebook with "Mrs. Eddie Diaz" written all over it, pass it on.

*

Eddie laughs as he comes in, has changed out of his uniform into athletic shorts and a tank top, taking his beer from Buck with a nod of thanks. “Where did you hear deliberately obtuse?” he asks Christopher, settling on the couch. Buck, also in athletic shorts and a tshirt, settles down next to him, and they’re close enough that their thighs touch and when Buck looks down, he can see Eddie’s thigh, the way the muscle moves when Eddie reaches out to nudge Chris playfully with a toe, earning himself an indignant look, and Buck’s mouth goes dry at Eddie’s thigh, at the smooth skin and the way the athletic shorts are loose enough that they ride up just a little and Buck can see the edge of Eddie’s boxer shorts - the boxer shorts he folded and put away earlier, because he knows how Eddie likes his laundry folded (military-style) and put away (boxers and socks in the top drawer, boxers on the left and socks on the right).

This has been happening. Buck would like to blame the concussion, but the truth is that he’s been thinking about how Eddie’s thighs would feel wrapped around him - how the muscle would bunch and release under Buck’s hand, the warmth of Eddie’s skin against his palm - for at least three months now, and if he’s really being honest, for much longer, and it’s disgusting, really, that he can’t keep himself from being at Eddie’s, from being drawn into his orbit, even though Buck knows that he’s too much, too big and too loud and he loves too hard and too fast (he’s loved all of his girlfriends, but he’s never loved anyone like he loves Eddie), and he refuses - he refuses - to drag Eddie down with him, so he keeps it a secret, watches Eddie’s thighs in his athletic shorts and his tank tops, Eddie’s ass in his uniform (and any other pair of pants he wears, honestly), Eddie’s smile, bright like the morning when it breaks over the guilt Eddie keeps close as a lover. Buck takes Eddie in whatever way he can get him (selfishly) and  loves Christopher the best way he can.

*

Buck’s making coffee  and breakfast for all three of them when Eddie wanders out, sleep-tousled and soft, cheek lined with sleep, and he raises his eyebrows and says “Well, I might just keep you around if you keep this up,” he says, taking the coffee that Buck hands him with a nod of thanks. “Sleep okay on the couch?” he asks, like he knows (he probably does) that being over six foot makes couch sleeping a little difficult. “I mean, you do have a bed… at your apartment…”

“Why would I go to my bed at my apartment when I can stay here and be your housewife?” Buck asks, and the words are out of his mouth before he can think them through, measure them out and make sure they aren’t too much, that they aren’t going to upset the balancing act he does to protect Eddie, to protect what he has with Eddie, and it catches in an unexpected place, housewife, because he’d meant it as a joke, because he’d done the laundry and made dinner (well, burned dinner beyond the point of recognition, but it’s like the Bible: you get credit for trying) because he doesn’t know what to do with himself when he doesn’t have Eddie to tie himself to, so he’d let himself into his house and done his laundry, but there’s a note of truth to it - he wants to be Eddie’s housewife, wants to do his laundry and darn his socks (whatever the hell that means - Buck will figure it out, because whatever it is, it’s taking care of Eddie, and that’s what it’s about, taking care of Eddie. He wants to take care of Eddie) and make his dinner and pack his lunch and when he gets home from a long day, meet him at the door with a drink and a kiss and --  He’s scared to look up, scared to see the disgust on Eddie’s face, the ruin of everything they’ve built. But he has to, eventually, or it’s weird(er), and he looks up, and that’s not Eddie’s disgusted face. He’s not sure what face it is, actually, which is a little offensive, because Buck prides himself on being an expert on all of Eddie’s faces. Buck clears his throat, and Eddie licks his lips and Buck can’t help but watch the dip of his tongue, the wetness of his lips.

“Housewife, huh?” Eddie says finally, and his voice is gravel, and when Buck dares to look in Eddie’s eyes, there’s something there - a determination. Resolve. “Can you pack Chris’ lunch and take him to school?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, and Buck nods.

*

thanks for readinggg - coming to AO3 after I have some sleep and prettify it.

[unintentionaloracle]

The Things We Do For Love [Fic]

After several pivots (both for pacing and "no wait this thing that happened while I was procrastinating TOTALLY streamlines things" reasons), I finally have this Zowens, Jhea, and a dash of Candy multishipping bad boy done!

Summary: Kevin tries to hook Jey up with Rhea so he can get some alone time with Sami (and get out of the doghouse with him). He's trying his best, darn it. Is it too much to ask for a win?

Kevin felt ridiculous, sneaking around backstage during the last hour of Raw. He knew Pearce was a pushover compared to Aldis, but with his luck he'd catch him on a day where he was actually good at his job. So for safety, he wore a black hoodie. Every wrestler knew they were practically invisible in a black hoodie.

He held the note he'd forged in his hands. It really had to come to this, huh?

Kevin thought back to what led him to this moment, and honestly, he thought anyone in his position would do the same...

---

Kevin had met up with Sami after SmackDown in his hotel room. They'd started bickering about the “Everyone but Kofi had it coming when I turned on them” comment (“Seriously, Kev?”) and how “I was being sarcastic, Sami!” The bickering then turned to apologies and assurances that Kevin did regret his actions (especially any that may or may not have caused certain incidents at certain WarGames matches). Which led to...

“You know, you look so much better in that shirt than I do...” Kevin purred as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Sami smoothed Kevin’s former shirt. “Oh really?” He said, strutting over and draping his arms across his shoulders before playing with his soulmate’s hair. “Want it back?”

“No, I just said it looked good on you,” Kevin said, completely serious.

Sami started to laugh, pressing his forehead to Kevin's. Kevin smirked, taking the opportunity to pull him onto his lap. “So you forgive me?”

Sami leaned towards his lips. “Maybe~” he whispered.

There was a rhythmic knock at the door. Kevin groaned.

“Sami, it can wait...”

Sami shook his head. “I can't. It'll bug me. Besides, the mood's gone.”

Not for me! Kevin thought as he sighed and motioned for Sami to go ahead and open the door.

Jey entered in a flurry as Sami pulled on pants. “Okay, uce, got any advice for fighting Bron?”

“Oh, please tell me you're not trying to win the belt to impress Rhea...” Kevin said, flopping back onto the bed.

“I’m not!” Jey insisted. “That's a bonus...” He added quietly (but not quietly enough to avoid an eyeroll from Kevin...that earned him a light smack to the chest from Sami). “I just really want to prove I can finally win a belt on my own, ya know?”

“I mean, you still have to fight the other guys in the tournament...” Sami said. “But sure. I'm always happy to help you.”

Jey pumped his fist. Kevin huffed and rolled over, pouting.

---

To make a long story short, Kevin sat though the whole thing–sulking–only to get chastised for it by Sami after, leading to them bickering again. But this time, Sami went to crash in Jey’s room for the night instead.

Needless to say, Kevin was in the doghouse and needed out.

And he needed to make sure Jey wouldn't interrupt him if he got time with Sami again.

Well, Sami would probably like it if I did something nice for Jey...

And that was how Kevin spent the bus ride to Raw with Cody (that Kevin had basically invited himself on because “yeah I'd like to surprise Randy, too!”) scribbling out a terrible love note asking to meet Jey at Waffle House “from Jey” to Rhea. He'd hoped to just pass it to Randy to pass to Rhea, but...

---

“Actually, I was about to have a nightmare, so I'm going to have to pass. Sorry...” Randy said, smirking at Cody as he put his hand around The American Nightmare’s hip.

Kevin tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Cody cleared his throat. “Kevin...” He said, motioning to where Randy's hand was.

Kevin finally got the innuendo as Randy got nose to nose with his own on-again off-again it's complicated. (Earning Randy a flirty “down, boy” from Cody.)

“Oh. Gross.” Kevin stated bluntly.

“Sorry, Kevin. You're on your own.” Cody said, looking very not sorry as he turned his attention back to Randy.

---

“What are you doing?”

Kevin spun around to see Damian, who immediately snatched his note and read it.

“Dude, I don't think even Jey uses the word ‘yeet’ this much. Why are you running around with fake love notes for Rhea?”

Kevin groaned, angrily explaining the whole situation.

“...And I'm just trying to be a good freaking boyfriend because I know Sami’s upset about his belt and I can't always be there for him! And I'm upset because everyone somehow still thinks I'm a scumbag after I've been clean as far as scumbaggery goes for like, a year and a half! IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR A LITTLE TIME AND ATTENTION FROM HIM!? AND TO WANT HIM TO NOT BE MAD AT ME SO I CAN LOVE HIM, DAMN IT!?” Kevin found himself venting at the end of his exposition without even thinking about it.

“Wepa, Kevin! Take it easy...” Damian said. “I get it. And I was actually thinking of doing something similar,” he said, pulling out a fancy black envelope with The Judgement Day’s logo on it and “Jey” written in fancy handwriting, punctuated with a heart.

“You guys had your own stationary?”

“Only when Edge was in charge. Couldn't get rid of the stuff.” Damian clarified, holding out the envelope to Kevin. “So how about we help each other out?”

“Why would you help me? And why are you trying to matchmake for Rhea?” Kevin asked, taking the envelope.

“Simple, I love Rhea like a sister, man. And I know she's been way more upset about Dom dumping her than she lets on. And I would be, too. The person you love, betraying you in front of everyone, breaking your heart, and choosing your mortal enemy over you?”

Kevin could practically feel Sami’s boot on his face from nearly two years ago. He could see the whole Bloodline standing over him–Sami included–saluting their dumb Tribal Chief. “...It's the worst.”

Damian nodded. “I just think she deserves a decent guy this time. Someone who's actually–”

“Competent?” Kevin offered.

Damian snorted. “Basically. Plus, Jey's actually cute.”

“What?”

“I said what I said,” Damian asserted. “So you leave Rhea to me and you just get Jey to the Waffle House, okay?”

Kevin nodded, a little dumbfounded, and scurried off.

---

At Sami's hotel room, he was greeted by Jey hurriedly leaving. “Oh, hey, KO! I was just gonna head out to celebrate my win tonight,” he patted Kevin's chest. “Sorry about how weird it was Friday. Give our boy a little extra love tonight, ya know what I'm saying?” He wiggled his eyebrows before running off, calling back “See ya!”

“...What...” Kevin asked, before remembering the note he was supposed to slip him. He pulled out the envelope. “Wait, Da–Rhea gave me this for–!”

“Don't worry, I passed along “Rhea’s” message for you...” Sami said.

Kevin turned to see Sami leaning on the door frame, smiling as he snatched the envelope. He had already changed into Kevin's shirt (which gave him a tinge of hope) and had his hair down. “Hey,” Sami said.

“Uh, hey...” Kevin tilted his head. “How did you know about–?”

“I saw you sneaking around and Damian filled me in on everything. Everything.” Sami said, no longer leaning.

That snitch! Kevin thought.

“Kevin, I'm sorry about Friday,” Sami said. “I didn't realize you were feeling so rough, lately.”

Kevin slumped in relief. “I'm sorry, too. I know you've been upset about losing the belt...”

Sami nodded.

“But if it makes you feel better, Gunther's got the world title. And you know you can kick his ass. If anyone deserves to be the first man to wreck him twice, it's you...” Kevin said, taking his turn to lean on the door frame.

Sami blushed. “Aw, Kev... And if it means anything, I'm not worried about whether you betray Cody or not or relapse when it comes to being a dirtbag or whatever...”

“Really?” Kevin said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, because I know you've changed. And even if you lose your way again, I know you can go back. Like after you stopped being friends with Seth and trying to prove who Zeke really was?”

Kevin nodded.

Sami cupped his face, making Kevin stand up straighter. “And as for us, I'm not worried about whether that splits us up again or not. Because I know, no matter what happens, we always find our way back to each other, right? Whether we end up making each other better or worse.”

“...Right...”

“And you believed in me–mostly–when I was in The Bloodline. It's the least I can do for you if you ever falter again, right? I'm in your corner, Kevin, no matter where you go. I love you, and that's never going to change.” He said, kissing his forehead. “I'm your problem forever.”

Good. Kevin thought.

Kevin chuckled. He felt weirdly comforted. “Thanks, Sami, I love you, too. And I'm your problem forever.” He said, holding his waist before kissing him. For a minute, he didn't care about his title worries, if Cody and the world trusted him, or any moral conflicts he had. Right now, he felt like a champion.

Sami played with Kevin's hair. “Soooooo...” He said with a smirk. “Where were we Friday?” He said, draping his arms over Kevin's shoulders.

Kevin's eyes widened. His brain went blank for a moment.

Sami tilted his head. “Kev? You okay? If you don't want to, it’s fi–”

Without a word, Kevin scooped Sami up and over his shoulder. Sami let out a surprised noise. Kevin started to make his way to the bed.

“Kev, the door!”

Kevin swung the door closed behind him with his foot.

[aliteral-ghost]

This is the piece I did for @hermitzine! It was so much fun to be a part of this project and get to work with everyone! The theme of this zine was music and I hope that's obvious in this piece :)

~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the record skipping is Joe’s alarm clock this morning, and it’s only because it skips multiple times that he actually gets up. Darn, he slept in again, and now he has to stay up late again so he can finish the parts of the machine that he needs to get done, and it’ll just end with him sleeping in again. At least he has–oh. The record that has been playing all night (and also for the past few weeks, if he’s honest) has a massive groove in it, tearing through all of the ridges and splintering the vinyl.

“Aw, man,” Joe mutters, staring at the destroyed disk in his hands. “That’s my last one of those.” To be fair, he probably should have expected something like this to happen after using the record player while placing hundreds of blocks of sand, but it’s still sad. To be fair, this has happened to the last five disks he overplayed, but Joe is nothing if not persistent. 

The next day he and Cleo are halfway through their weekly crafting session when they hum. “No music today?” Joe waves a hand.

“Some days the best music is the sound of nature around you.” He sets down a pencil and listens to said sound of nature, which is currently someone very violently chopping down trees. “You know, be in the moment, and all that.” He’s never lived in the moment once in his life and they both know it, but then again neither has Cleo.

“Sure.” Cleo pauses for just a minute. “Not this music, though. Ugh, who is…” They both glance over across the river, where Keralis is hard at work collecting wood. He pauses briefly to wave once he’s noticed them looking, smiling widely. They both wave back and Keralis continues, moving on to the next tree.

“Do you ever think about how our lives have a soundtrack?” Joe says after a minute, mindlessly coloring the sheets of paper he brought, tracing out the blueprint for a part of the pinball machine. Cleo looks over from where she’s drawing in her own notebook. 

“No?” They say, voice lilting up like a question. “I don’t? Why, do you?” She wrinkles her eyebrows, more focused on the calligraphy than really focusing on the conversation. It’s how they roll, most weeks. Joe talks and Cleo nods along.

“Well, sure! I like to think about the song that might be playing while things are happening. For a while, it was otherside, but…” Cleo glances over again, this time more interested. 

“You broke all of your disks, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I must have played them in the sand too much or something. Whomp, whomp.” He follows the statement up with a laugh, sort of high-pitched and frantic. “D’you think we all have different soundtracks then, if we do?”

“Oh, for sure,” Cleo says, in a voice that still sounds like they’re just humoring him. “Like Doc? His soundtrack is all scary, like heavy metal, right? There’s no way he and Scar have the same backing tracks.” They pause for just a second. “No, I lied. Doc’s isn’t heavy metal, he’s too much of a softie. Pearl’s is. She’s bloody hardcore.”

That’s an accurate assumption, Joe guesses. He hasn’t been privy to much Pearl has done this season, but he’s fairly certain she just built an entire Ender dragon out of pilfered dragon eggs. If there’s someone able to intimidate Cleo, it’s her.

“So what’s yours, then?” Cleo asks, setting her pen down and leaning on her hands. “Whatever song you’re obsessed with now over and over?”

“I don’t have much time for anything else.” Joe laughs again. “Besides, sometimes the best soundtrack is the same song, over and over, just played at different tempos depending on mood.”

This earns him a patented Cleo lookTM as she turns back to her journal, picking up a small knife. They don’t talk for a while after that, instead listening to the leaves rustle, water flow, and trees topple. 

“Here,” they say eventually, after the wood-collecting has gotten to be too much, and pass Joe a record. “Put this on, I know you’re aching to.” He gasps, energy he hasn’t felt in a while jolting through him, and pulls out his jukebox. 

“Thanks, Cleo!”

The aforementioned record is a simple piano tune, the melody and harmony weaving in and out of each other’s path, spinning down the river and floating high into the air. It fills the server with its music, and although Joe knows that the little song is barely reaching further than Keralis he’d like to think that Tango, in the depths of Decked Out 2, and False, high up on a snowy peak, and Grian and Doc, fighting their battles over the perimeter, can hear it. 

It’s a song that, although the notion is cliche, feels like home. It has managed to encapsulate the feeling that persists, from all ten years of Hermitcraft, of family and friends and feeling like belonging.