#like their personalities feel so 3d and complex

[itsangelala]

reblogging again to put some of my comments in the tags ;)

NIGHT FLOWER: part i

Your place in the world was one of a tool. This was true of every slave: you were all things to be used. Kakavasha understood this about you, and he understood this about himself. It was how he survived all those years ago, and it’s how he survives now. And so, when Aventurine goes into his first heat in years and decides to suffer it alone, you can only think of one way to get him to accept your help: You offer to let him use you.

written for @/lorelune's spring fever collab & @ficsforgaza

13.5k words of omegaverse, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, angst with an eventual happy ending. gn alpha reader + omega aventurine (they each have both amab and afab genitalia). explicit piv sex, reader bottoms, the sex is consensual but emotionally complicated and deeply sad. cw slavery, racism, gendered violence, including very brief and non-graphic (but direct) references to sexual abuse during slavery. the sa and slavery are not eroticized. dead dove do not eat, mdni.

thank you to @acerathia, @minnaci, @owlespresso for all your help with beta reading and to @kosmiccarma for brainstorming omega aventurine hcs!

“I’ve alw███ l█ved ███, Ka██v█s███”

You knew it from the moment you met him.

Gaunt, pallid, weighed down by heavy chains. Irises that glowed like the auroras back in your world. Delicate features that made every passerby in the market stop to read the description on the placard. (Sigonian, it said, although you couldn’t read at the time. Avgin. Male. Omega. Sixteen years old. Sixty Tanba, no tax.) He had an all-consuming scent that was impossible to ignore—one that possessed you, made your heels dig into the dirt, every atom in your body resisting the impatient jerk of the chains at your wrist. Even through your muzzle, through the perpetual stench of carbon-steel and blood, you could smell it: honey and wildflowers. A fragrance that settled deep within you, flooded you with a warmth that felt like home.

Aventurine is not a spiritual person. He once told you this, his smile cold in the glow of an artificial moon. He'd been deeply religious as a child, but hasn’t since cared for fairy tales about fortune and fate, three-eyed goddesses or merciful rainfalls. Hasn't thought about anything like a destined love. He thinks the idea of a true mate is laughable, that no such bond could ever be forged between an omega and an alpha. That nothing so unconditional could ever exist.

You know differently, of course. You've known it from the moment you met him, from the second you laid eyes on him and thought, I need to help you, and I need to protect you, and I need you to be safe, and you’d never once heard the word ‘love’ in your life—slaves are never loved by their masters, after all, and you'd always been nothing but a slave—but every atom of your being knew that you loved him, that you'd always love him.

And when your master cradled your face that night and crooned that he owned you, that you'd always be his obedient, alpha pet—for the first time in your life, you knew that he was wrong.

You didn't belong to your slaver.

You belonged to him.

To Kakavasha.

These days, Aventurine does not smell like honey, and your jaw is not restrained.

Your muzzle was one of the first things that Aventurine threw away when he bought your freedom. According to the Amber Era system, it had been several months since the murder of your shared master. Ninety-five Star Calendar days after the Interastral Peace Corps had arrested Kakavasha. An entire rotation around the black hole at the centre of your wretched galaxy, all of which had been spent in the captivity of some new mistress. She picked you out because she liked your calming scent and the look of your face, but mostly she used you for the fighting pits just like your old master.

Aventurine had been sitting in the audience of your final match, then bought you out right after you won. “I’m in need of a fighter,” he’d said, smiling in his thick furs and jewels. He played the part of a slavemaster perfectly, his gloved hands wandering the span of your aching shoulders, touching the bloodied maw of your mask. “And I’d be willing to pay top credit for yours.”

She protested. You were her most prized possession, one of her greatest investments. Slaves from your planet were hard enough to come by—alphas capable of reproduction, nearly impossible. And you were so well-behaved, so poised, so endearing in a way that was rare for alphas. She was fond of you. Her omega slaves were fond of you too. They would be distraught if you left, and that would complicate her household affairs—and surely Aventurine, as a respectable owner of human capital like herself, could understand how inconvenient that would be?

Aventurine bared his teeth in a gracious smile. (You’d never seen Kakavasha make such an expression before—so disarming, so cunning, a crescent moon beneath snake eyes. He’d never smelt like this either, like an expensive cologne layered with bleach, and it left you feeling nauseous, wondering if he was ill.) He flirted his way into her good graces, made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, and then he brought you into the first-class ship on which he’d arrived. You were so stunned by its luxury—the handwoven carpets, the crushed velvet seats, the imported tea from several galaxies away and the custom-ordered outfit he had bought for you—that you nearly missed the tremble in his hands as he punched numbers into the remote control lock for your chains.

He had regained his composure by the time he pulled away your muzzle, though. He threw it carelessly to the ground—your titanium chains, too. Then kicked both away with his shined leather shoes.

“There,” Aventurine said, smiling cheerfully. “Much better, don’t you think?”

“Vasha—” you started, voice thick with wasted grief, and all you wanted to was reach for him, to double check that he was real, but he placed a finger to your lips and stopped you. You stiffened at the satin touch, but he seemed unbothered.

“‘Aventurine’,” he corrected.

You stared blankly. “What?”

“‘Aventurine’. Like the gemstone. That’s my name now.”

“You—” Your voice caught in your throat. You realized that you’d been holding your breath. You always had the habit of holding your breath in the luxurious, private rooms of very rich men, because you never liked what happened in them. Forcing yourself to breathe, you asked, “You gave yourself a new name?”

“No. The IPC gave me a new name. They gave me a job, too.”

“A job?” you asked, voice faint. Now that you were breathing again, you were noticing once more just how bizarre he smelled. Sterile and expensive and completely foreign. “You’re free now?”

“Well, I’m a freedman, but I don’t know if I’d call myself free. I’m a bit… indebted to the IPC, let’s say. But that’s fine. I can’t complain. I mean—look around. This beats the fighting pits, doesn’t it?” He gestured lazily at your surroundings, and you nodded.

“It’s nice here,” you replied, feeling absurd but not knowing what else to say. Once Kakavasha got talking, it was impossible to get a word in edgewise.

“You like it here? Good. This room’s yours. Mine is the next one over. You’ll live and work here, with me. I’ll make sure you’re paid well. Full benefits, vacation, salary, and overtime. The standard pay for your role is seventy-thousand credits per month, but I’ll see if I can get you more. HR is pretty strict about their hiring policies, but—”

“You’re hiring me?”

Aventurine went very still, his smile tightly controlled. His eyes remained fixed on you, but they seemed less snake-like, now. They looked more familiar. More afraid.

“I’m offering, yes,” he said neatly. “You’ll be part of my personal security detail. I don’t have the contract for you to review yet, unfortunately. I didn’t arrange one ahead of time because, well”—he laughed, as if this were polite conversation and he were making a joke about the weather—“I didn’t know if I’d find you alive. But things worked out in my favour. They always work out in my favour. I’ll make sure they’ll work out in your favour too, so long as you’re with me. So you’ll consider it, won’t you? Staying with—working for me, I mean.”

Your eyes went soft. Beneath the artificial fragrance, you finally caught a hint of his familiar scent—more wildflower than honey at that moment, the way it always is when he’s scared.

“Kakavasha—”

“Name your price,” he said loudly, “and I’ll match it.”

You sighed. “Vasha,” you said more gently, and his shoulders relaxed at the subvocal shift in your timbre, at the famed alpha Voice that necessitated your muzzle, “I don’t care about the money. Of course I’ll stay here. But—what happened? Why did you kill him yourself? Why didn't you let me do it? That was the plan. It was always supposed to be me.”

It was my job, you thought then, just as you had thought to yourself every night, curled up in your bed and trying to recall the scent of fresh honey, to keep you safe.

He shrugged and said, “It would have been too risky to involve you.”

“You were caught and sentenced to death. The risk was already too high.”

“But the stakes weren’t,” he replied simply, and before you could ask what he meant by that, he continued, “and it worked out, didn’t it? I work for the IPC. You work for me. We’re freedmen now. Whatever I've lost, it doesn't matter. Our gains far outweigh it.”

“And what have you lost, Vasha?”

He smiled at you, charming and distracting. A crescent moon beneath snake eyes. “Nothing of value,” he reassured you, and even though you could feel the calm of an omega’s voice washing over you, even though it released all the tension in your body, all you could smell was cologne and wildflowers, and you knew that he was lying.

Vasha once told you, curled up and quiet on the basement floor, that he despised his eyes. They were supposed to be a sign of blessing from Gaiathra Triclops, but they'd never brought him anything but trouble. They were the first thing that the slavers always noticed about him, the feature that made him such an alluring commodity. Their aurora glow, their strange beauty, their promise of a rare opportunity: a chance at owning a specimen of an exotic, endangered species, possibly the last of its kind. These are all things that you've heard in the parlour of your master’s house as he entertained rich company, the crowd of them gawking at his human curios.

Avgin are said to make the most beautiful slaves, he'd often say. And Avgin omegas are said to be the most beautiful among them. What do you all think? They'd all hum, peering closely at Kakavasha’s features, and inevitably someone would joke, I think I'd like to borrow him sometime, and then they would all laugh while your pulse ticked up and you imagined tearing at their throats. Vasha would search for your gaze in these moments, giving you a long, pointed look: Don't do anything stupid.

He’d always been so blasé about it, the way people fixated on his Avgin blood. You'll never understand how. He didn't react to any of the comments, the groping, the innuendos. He was, however, distinctly unimpressed at the way that your master liked to play him up as a rare and expensive acquisition, as a sign of his own status. It's embarrassing to watch, Kakavasha had remarked. Everyone knows that Sigonian slaves are uncommon but cheap—people always think we’ll bring them more trouble than our worth. This was how Kakavasha had ended up in the market in the first place: because his last master had been robbed, and he'd been wrongly blamed for it.

The blame, to this day, has never stopped. People—powerful people, politicians, businessmen, socialites—look at Aventurine’s eyes and immediately reach for their pockets. You've seen it for yourself, these spineless despots and scammers feeling for their wallets. Sigonian, you know they're thinking. Liar, cheat, thief, whore, worthless, worthless, worthless. Your hands tighten around your blade each time, a loaded gun with a finger on the trigger.

Alphas are said to be violent by nature. Aventurine has often called you the one exception to this rule: the most docile, good-hearted alpha he's ever met. But this is a lie. You do have a predator instinct, and it comes out in full-force whenever you’re around these particular types of men. These types who notice Aventurine’s eyes and see a thief; these monsters who see his irises and imagine what it would be like to bed him. You’d kill them if you could. It would be so easy, especially now that you are an IPC dog. The Company is already such a violent force; what would be one more murder?

But Aventurine has never ordered you to punish anyone. (Don't do anything stupid, he always tells you with a glance, smiling through every humiliation.) Nor has he ever seemed bothered enough by these meetings to try concealing his heritage.

A fellow Asset Liquidation Specialist once asked why he didn't just hide his eye colour—it would likely be better for fostering relationships, negotiating deals—but Aventurine had shrugged it off. I'm a gambler working with the IPC, he'd said. Do you really think a pair of coloured contacts would make anyone trust me? He'd laughed, and his voice had carried a threatening edge, and his coworker had shifted visibly at it. Being an Avgin is the least threatening thing about me, wouldn't you say?

You think that Aventurine likes being seen as a threat. Sometimes you wonder if this is why he doesn't mind wearing his eyes so much, but abhors keeping his scent. He washes his clothes until they're free of his disarming sweetness and then masks himself with an unsettling blend of ambergris, jasmine, and wood. And he is on suppressants all the time—hasn’t had a single heat since the day he killed his master. Hasn't smelled like himself, either.

At the end of the day, it’s manageable being an Avgin in this business, he often comments, spraying half a bottle of masking cologne on himself, but you can't be an Avgin and an omega. Wouldn’t you agree?

You'd know better than me, you reply, noncommittally—and truthfully.

But you're an alpha, he observes. Don't you have an opinion?

You don't pay me to have opinions, you always remind him, stone-faced. You pay me to stand here and look scary. And Aventurine always laughs at this, and he always wires you money and calls it a bonus as he pesters you for an answer, and he always gets distracted and starts scrolling through all his shopping wishlists instead. I saw this thing the other day and thought of you. And this too. Would you like either of them? Would you like them both? I’m a very generous manager, you know. I'll buy you anything you like.

But even though he always gets distracted, Aventurine never forgets. Sooner or later, he inevitably circles back to these questions—these anxieties about his scent, about his eyes, about his blood. He never cares for anyone else’s opinions, but he's always been curious about yours. Even when he was Vasha, he wanted to know what you thought.

He’d been sixteen years old and delirious with heat the first time he asked you, face wrinkling with pain as he spilled his thoughts. It was so incoherent, so sad, you thought it must have been about a fever dream. Mama Fenge, he kept saying. Mama Fenge blessed me, She blessed me, I'm blessed, it rained when I was born—did you know that? My luck, I was lucky. The Katicans, they never caught me. They got everyone else, but not me. I was blessed by Her. I'm going to save my people. I will. I'll save my sister. My eyes are proof. My mistress liked them. Said they're beautiful. Worth sixty whole coppers. A blessing. He pulled you close, pressed his scalding face to your scent gland, and his whole body shuddered with relief. This was the first and only time he'd allowed you to hold him, and it was only out of desperation, out of his mind. Do you like them, alpha? Do you like my eyes? Why? Is it because they're beautiful? Because they're from Gaiathra?

“I like them because they're yours,” you'd replied, and Kakavasha had laughed deliriously.

This is when he told you he hated them: I'd close them forever, if I could.

When you were younger—dumber—you had a habit of squirrelling away every spare coin you came across. You collected them in a little purse that one of the omega slaves had sewn for you—a thank-you for always keeping the other alphas away from her—and you hid it underneath a loose floorboard. By the time that Kakavasha was arrested, you'd saved up twenty-nine Tanba. You’d wanted enough to buy Kakavasha’s freedom and then to set him up for a comfortable life.

It had been a stupid plan. An embarrassing one. If you ever confessed it to Aventurine, he'd laugh at you. Slaves can't buy other slaves, he'd say. Leave the schemes to me next time. You’re too good-hearted for it.

You’d already known that, of course. You knew that you didn't have the status to buy him or mate him or even just provide for him, but you wanted to. God, did you want to—you spent every waking moment thinking about it, every sleeping moment dreaming of it. It wasn't even that you desired him, though he was beautiful and fragrant and more delicate than anything that had ever touched you in your life, which was only your master’s hands and your muzzle and your chains. Aventurine would feel so soft in comparison, you’d always figured. It made your heart ache, thinking about getting to hold something so lovely.

But really—that desire came second. What came first was how mated omegas feel safe around their alphas, and you so desperately wanted him to be safe. Kakavasha had looked so frail, so grim, as your master took his chains and led him home from the market, and you could smell the fear coming off him in waves. And you could do nothing to stop it. You had nothing you could use to stop it—nothing other than your hands that could kill for him and your pheromones that could soothe him and your useless heart that wanted to collect sixty Tanba for him. That was all you had.

So you failed in the end. Of course you did. You didn't have the status to buy him or mate him or even just provide for him. You couldn't even do for him the one thing you could have done—which was to kill. And Kakavasha suffered for your incompetence. He had to dirty his hands with blood and gamble his way into wealth and then suddenly he was freeing you, not the other way around.

And now you are comfortable. You'll lead an easy life from now, Aventurine reassured you when he brought you onto his ship all those years ago, and he's kept that promise. What about you? you'd asked him then. Will you lead an easy life with me, if you're working for the IPC? And he had smiled and lied to you: Yes.

It had been a painfully obvious lie. If you were a smarter person, you'd have never believed it in the first place. Aventurine has no interest in leading an easy life, because an easy life would be less profitable, and less profit would mean less safety. And he is always, always worried about being unsafe. It is indiscernible to everyone but you—an alpha (his alpha, always his, even if he doesn't want you) who has watched over him for so long that you can detect every shift in his scent. No matter how much cologne he drowns himself in and no matter how strong his suppressants are, you know when he is afraid.

And here is the bitter truth, the ultimate proof of your shortcomings:

Aventurine is always afraid.

It is a beautiful day on Agnisahr, and you can tell that Aventurine is about to throw up from worry.

You're sitting in the middle of stunning wealth—Aventurine in his feathers and jewellery, you in your tailored jacket—in a lobby made from marble and pale sandstone, with a view of palm trees and rolling, scarlet sand dunes beyond the window. The waitstaff addresses him as Honoured Guest and they keep his crystal chalice filled constantly with water—one of the most expensive commodities on the planet. Aventurine has been drinking from it religiously, which is strange as he typically has the habit of forgetting to hydrate. A faint wildflower scent is drifting from his slender form. These are the only giveaway to his mood: he's otherwise as pokerfaced as ever, smiling calmly as he discusses his plans to sabotage the local government and acquire the planet for the IPC.

“This is a very dangerous mission,” you state flatly.

“All my missions are dangerous.” He takes a sip, one pinky up. “The IPC pays me well for a reason. As they say—”

“‘High risk, high reward.’ I know.” You try not to sound bitter, though you allow yourself to sound tired. “I still do not think the risk is worth the reward in this case.”

“I think over 5.6 million in credits is a great reward, actually. We could do a lot with that kind of money.”

You raise a brow. “What could an extra 5.6 million get you that you can't already buy?” It is—as Topaz would say—‘chump change’ in comparison to his current wealth, which sums to a number so vast that you can't wrap your head around it.

Aventurine pretends to miss the point. “Tons! We could buy a new spacecraft. Get another mansion. Or—we could take a vacation to Penacony. I hear it's quite nice there.” A playful smile. “I could get us a penthouse unit. With a featherbed.”

You frown. Sometimes Aventurine likes to flirt when you're being stubborn—not out of interest, but as a ploy to distract you. He’d developed the habit after he joined the IPC. It used to fluster you, but now it only makes you cross your arms.

“You could die,” you point out.

“You'll protect me.”

“No, I won't. You always find a way to get rid of me when things are most dangerous.” You give him an accusatory stare. “You never let me do my job.”

He's too shameless to deny it. “And it's worked out fine, hasn't it? I haven't died so far.”

“Yes. Just by dumb luck.”

“I beg to differ. My luck is quite reliable.” He sets down his glass. Glances back outside. A microexpression, brows knotting for the briefest second as he studies the sky. “I'm not worried.”

“You're a shit liar.”

That gets him to look at you, letting a small frown pass over his face. “No, I'm actually a great liar. You're just too good at reading me. It's very inconvenient, you know.”

“I can't help it.” You lean toward him, making a show of it as you sniff. An orchid-like scent—faint but unmistakable—has seeped into artificial ambergris and wood. “It's hard to ignore.”

He hums. He isn't frowning anymore—but doesn't look happy, either. “I should change suppressants.” He taps the side of his empty glass, fidgeting. Aventurine never fidgets: it's an amateur giveaway. “These ones clearly don't work well enough.”

“That won't help. I know you too well.” Your eyes soften. He's looking outside again, the blues of his irises distant. “You're worried, Aventurine. More than usual. Let’s back out of this—let Jade handle it.”

“The mission isn't what's bothering me,” he says patiently. “I just don't like this planet.”

“Because you can tell it's dangerous.”

“No. Well—it is, but nothing I can't handle.” He leans back. “I just dislike the weather here.”

You arch a brow. “...the weather?”

“Yes,” he says neatly, “it's too dry here. I'll break out.”

You open your mouth. Close it. It is possibly the most absurd thing you've ever heard, and certainly the worst lie that's ever come from him. For as long as you've known him, Aventurine has had flawless skin, marble-smooth, and ever since being freed, he’s never really cared much for looking handsome so much as looking rich. But he maintains his serious expression: all-in on the farce. “Did you know that outside the capital, this planet hasn't had any natural rain in a quarter of an Amber Era? And the stellar winds are terrible. I don't know how people live on a planet like this.” His eyes narrow at the cloudless sky. “The IPC is going to need to do a lot of terraforming if they want to make this into a merchant hub.”

“Aventurine.”

“It'll be a pain crossing the desert—the elements will ruin my clothes, you know,” he continues. “It won't be so bad while we're on the ships, but we’ve got to go outside from time to time. Can't make any friends otherwise.”

“Aventurine.”

“And there's nothing to do for fun when we’re not working.” He sighs dramatically. “I can't wait to get our 5.6 billion and leave for someplace else. I'm being serious about Penacony, by the way—”

“Aventurine.”

“—though not about the featherbed. I'll get you your own room, obviously. And I'll buy whatever dream experience you’d like. What kind would you want?”

Finally allowed a chance to speak, you say, “One where you retire.”

“Retire? Why would I ever do that?”

“I don't know. Maybe you decide you've made enough money.”

“No such thing.”

“Then you can settle down with someone.”

That makes him smile. It feels mocking. ��Me? Settling down? With who?”

“Who knows. Someone who will treat you better than the IPC, I hope.”

“Anyone that nice would run in the other direction. But never mind me. This would be your dream experience. What happens to you in it?”

“I stop chasing after you and get to live out the rest of my days in peace,” you say dryly, and Aventurine blinks. “Please stop deflecting. The IPC gave you a suicide mission. We will both die if we stay here.”

He looks serious now. “I wouldn't let you die.”

“You can't know that.”

“Well, I do. And I've got decent chances at surviving too—at least one in ten.”

You feel like sighing—a deep, aggravated noise is heavy in your throat—but Aventurine doesn't enjoy it when you show anger around him. It's the one omega instinct that he can't ignore, you suppose: unease around an aggressive alpha. Voice tightly controlled, you say, “You’re going to bet your life on one in ten?”

  “Sure. My chances were worse on the last planet, and things worked out great. It'll be the same on Agnisahr.” Aventurine raises a hand, calls for the bill. The conversation is over. You lean back in your seat, watching sourly as he pays tens of thousands of credits just for water.

“You know, they say the royal family is backed by an Aeon,” you can't help but point out, once the waiter is gone. A last-ditch effort. Aventurine smiles at it, amused. Like you're a child.

“So what?” He glances outside, at the desolate landscape beyond the oasis—nothing but red sand, a blue, rainless sky, and two radiant suns shining above it all. “The protection of a god is nothing compared to the schemes of human beings. And gods abandon their people all the time, anyway.”

During your tenth day on Agnisahr, you realise that something is deeply wrong.

It takes you some time to understand what’s happening. At first you think that whatever political danger you’ve intuited is much worse than you thought, and that’s why Aventurine has been so pale, so discomforted, so exhausted. Then his scent starts changing—he switches clothes two, three times a day (because of all this heat during Agnisahran days, he tells his new business associates) and spritzes his nape with his cologne almost religiously—and you wonder if he is sick with something. If the food in this planet has something that disagrees with his Sigonian biology, or if he has picked up one of the local filoviruses, or if someone’s poisoned one of his meals because they’ve correctly identified him as a threat. Aventurine dismisses every single one of these theories when you bring it up, and—as if in denial—only attributes it to the weather. (I’ve never done well in deserts, he tells you, his eyes on his phone screen. I'm not used to them. It is above 300 Kelvin, and you do not see a single bead of sweat on his neck, and his cheeks are not even a little flushed.)

You only figure it out when he is too ill to get out of bed one morning and forbids all the IPC staff from coming near his hotel room. It sets off alarms immediately—Aventurine, no matter how sick, will work and see through meetings as long as he is mentally capable of it—and so you naturally ignore his orders and check on him, using the spare key to his sleeping quarters that you're given as a policy. And as soon as the door cracks open—as soon as you step inside only to be hit with a violent, cloying sweetness—you realise what’s happening and slam the door shut behind you.

“You’re in heat,” you blurt out, and Aventurine—a shivering, panting mess on the bed—groans in response.

“Why are you here?” He turns toward you, still lucid enough to glare at you through the tangled mess of his hair. His voice is weak, but no less self-possessed: “I was very clear—no company today.”

“I am your personal bodyguard,” you remind him mildly. Your voice is calm—both non-threatening and non-condescending. “Those orders don’t apply to me. If things feel suspicious, I look into it. And they felt very suspicious.” Your brow knits as you study his clothes. Mulberry silk clings to his form, soaked through with sweat. Thin, eucalyptus sheets are tangled up around him. There are only two pillows. No water bottles. No knotting toys.

Nothing.

“You didn't know you'd be in heat,” you realise. “What happened to your suppressants?”

“I don't know.” There’s a quiet, frustrated edge to his voice. Vulnerable too. It makes you think of when you were both still slaves, and Aventurine was confined to the basement of the manor—the one that all omega slaves were made to ride out their heats in. Either they would do it alone or were ordered to spend it with some alpha, usually either a friend of the master or an alpha slave he wished to reward. That's when they're most pliable, he'd tell his guests, or sometimes even you. They get so desperate they'll present themselves to anyone. Then amused laughter from the other party—How obscene!—as you looked away, blood hammering in your ears.

You had been your master’s favourite. His most obedient, most profitable pet—striking enough for his guests to admire, deadly enough for his audiences to bet on, docile enough for him to enjoy. Good enough for him to reward, and he often rewarded you with his most beautiful slave: his Avgin omega. Just don't mark him, he’d said, fastening the muzzle around your mouth. It'll ruin his market value. Who knows if someday he'd sell Kakavasha off to some alpha master who wished to claim him, he said. Though I don't think there's anyone in this star system who'd want a Sigonian for a mate, let alone a Sigonian slave. Then he’d paused, eyes scanning over you. As if contemplating. But maybe they'd try to get Avgin whelps out of him, he added, and you felt like throwing up.

You'd never mate him in those moments, your muzzle always prevented you from saying. You didn't even want to think about touching him, and he didn't want to think about it either. Even in the cruel grip of his heats, with nothing but the thin mat beneath him and his slave’s rags around him, Kakavasha hadn't wanted any kind of contact from you, rejecting any chance of solace. Don't, don't—not again, not again, he'd begged. Then as the nights marched on and his mind grew hazier, he’d start whimpering too: It hurts, alpha. It hurts. Help me. It hurts. Don't touch me. Not again. It hurts. It hurts. Stop it, please stop it.

It gutted you.

It went against every instinct, not to touch him. To let him lie there, in scorching, lonely pain, when all you wanted to do was to dispel it. It would be so easy to press yourself against him and let his skin cool against yours, do the one thing that your body was good at other than killing. But not again, not again, I can't anymore, I don't want it, I never wanted it, and all you could do was sit there, unmoving. Watch as the most delicate, precious thing you had in your life shatter.

And standing here now, watching Aventurine shatter before you once more—it is unbearable. He needs a nest, you keep thinking. He needs a nest and some water and some kind of touch, some kind of relief, but not again, not again, and you’re still a slave, still a worthless and stupid slave, and Kakavasha is still crying on a basement floor and you can't do anything for him.

“You need help, Aventurine,” you say, voice soft, and his whole body tenses. His scent dips, and the scent of florals overwhelms you.

“No,” he breathes, “I don't.”

“You do. You're sick.” You bite your lip. Your heart splits as you suggest it, but you say, “I can call a professional.”

“No,” he spits. The facade is gone. The poker face has cracked. The anger and the pain and the fear are all on full display, and his voice sharpens: “No strangers.”

No foreign scents, you realise he's demanding. A new scent would probably make him feel unsafe.

Then let me help you, you think of pleading, but not again, not again, and you're filled with so much shame at the thought that all you can do is look away.

“Then—can I do anything?” He goes still. “Not—not that, but something to make you more comfortable. I can build you a nest, at least—”

“No.” He takes a deep, shaking breath. “No nests. I don't need one—”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don't,” he says. His voice is wavering now, on the verge of crumbling with fever and pain. “I've never—I’ve never needed a nest, I don't—I don't want to—” He presses his face into his pillow. “I need—I need to be alone, fuck—”

He doesn't mean to whine. The cry for distress is instinct, something that all omegas are programmed to do in heat. You’ve heard that they’ve evolved to make this noise as a way of appealing to nearby alphas for help, but you think this must be a lie as you never once saw your alpha master giving mercy to any of his omega slaves. Still, whether it is your biology or not—the noise that Aventurine makes has your heart aching so much you can't help but step forward. But he shakes his head and inches away, shuddering violently, and then his voice echoes again in that cold basement—not again, not again, and don't touch it anymore, don't use it anymore, don't use me anymore, not again, and it's all you can do to back away until your spine is pressed against the door.

“I'm sorry, Vasha,” you say, strained. “I’m sorry. I'll leave you now.”

As the door shuts behind you, you catch a final glimpse him—face pressed into the pillows, shivering.

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was crying.

When you were both slaves, Aventurine hated seeing you during his heats.

Kakavasha was normally calm around you. Most of the time, he was even friendly (he was friendly to everyone whom he thought could be useful), but he was different during his heats. Sometimes he was vicious; mostly he was withdrawn. Nearly always, he wanted to be left alone. In those moments, all he could register was your alpha scent and his memories of what other people had done to him during his heats. And while you'd have hated to leave him, despised the idea of him being offered to another alpha—even more than that, you hated violating this boundary of his. Hated that you were allowed to do whatever you wanted to him. Hated being the reason he felt so unsafe.

Hated being an alpha.

Now that you no longer have the orders of your slavemaster hanging over you, it is the least you can do to respect Aventurine’s wish of being left alone. He has every right to privacy, and you have every obligation to give it to him. But instead you have been standing here, outside his door, for a full system-hour.

Every time you try to leave, your body is wracked with anxiety. The thought of other people—other alphas—coming near him in this state makes you seethe, your hands flexing at your side. The predator instinct comes out, and the people around you notice it. Every person unlucky enough to walk down this hall scurries away under your glare, even the other IPC staff wandering about to look for Aventurine: Must be their mate on the other side, they remark to one another, and then they're gone.

It is a hard thing to hear. You are not his mate. You are not even a heat partner. If you were, then he wouldn't be in so much pain. Not now, and not back then.

Aventurine has never had easy heats. You keep replaying your memories of all his past ones, each one a wound in your heart: the aching sweetness of nectar and honey; his withering body as he clutched his abdomen and curled up; the tears and sweat staining the mat beneath him. And above all: the fear. The scent of it, the sight of it, the sound of it in his voice. Stronger today than any other day.

By instinct, you know that he cannot persist like this. That this time is somehow worse than all those other times, and that he will become seriously ill if left alone.

After nearly an hour and a half, you finally open the door, fearing the worst.

“Aventurine?” you say quietly, but there's no response, and your stomach drops as you see him.

His body is pale, listless. If it weren't for the fragrance washing over you or the sweat on his temple, you'd worry that he was dead.

Tentatively, you reach out. Rest a hand on his forehead, and it scorches you. He stirs at the touch, doesn't open his eyes—but the quiet sigh of relief is unmistakable. His fingers twitch, as if wanting to reach for you.

“Aventurine,” you say gently. “Aventurine, I'm going to take care of you. Is that alright?”

He doesn't respond. You grimace, pulling away to fetch things for him: several spare pillows from the closet, an extra blanket too. From his suitcase, you grab a few of his sweaters, all thick cotton and fleece. He’d had a sense that Agnisahr would be cold at night. Deserts always get cold after sundown, since sand doesn’t retain heat, he'd told you while he was packing. Or I think so, anyway. Don't know why. Must have read it somewhere. Then he’d given you a long, unreadable look before saying, Make sure to bring a jacket. The warmest one you have. The elements on a planet like Agnisahr can kill a person—even a person like you.

I’m sure I’ll be fine, you’d dismissed him. I can survive anything. Any kind of weather, any kind of illness, any kind of pain: these are all things your species is known for being able to endure, the trait that made you such a prized slave in your master’s eyes, such a useful agent at the IPC. You hadn’t given Aventurine’s warning any thought and hardly paid attention to what you’d thrown into your own suitcase.

It surprises you, then, that you find one of your sweaters in his luggage. Made from Sedanian cashmere and heat tech designed by the Intelligentsia Guild. Cloud-soft and warm to the touch. Aventurine had bought it for you before you were deployed to Jarilo-IV to collect intelligence for Topaz. Warmest thing in the known universe, he’d commented. One of a kind, too. Remember to wear it, alright? Don't let my money go to waste, now.

You stare at it, kneading the fleece between your fingers. You hadn’t mentioned wanting to bring this sweater. You’d lost it in your closet some months ago and forgot about it. Aventurine must have remembered and gone looking for it, because—why? You aren't sure. Probably because it’s warmer and softer than anything he owns, you guess. Of course he’d want to wear it.

You throw it into the pile of things you’ve collected for him.

You take it all to his bed, the mattress dipping as you sit next to Aventurine. One by one, you scent each item with your wrist, watching him carefully the whole time. You’re quiet as you lay them out around him, leaving him undisturbed as you build a nest. You order water and electrolyte drinks too, and you’re quick about going to the door when you hear room service knocking—with how feverish he is, he probably badly needs it.

Aventurine is awake when you come back. His breathing is still laboured, pained—but calm.

“I said I didn’t need a nest,” Aventurine says, though he doesn’t sound angry. You wonder if he’s too weak to be. His voice is faint, and his eyes are barely open—focused on the pile of blankets and clothing around him.

“You’re welcome.” You open a bottle of water, hold it out to him. “Drink.”

Aventurine pauses, stares at the offering like it's some kind of foreign object. But he accepts it eventually, sitting up and taking it from you. He winces with the movement, which he tries to hide. He ignores your frown as he drinks, and he doesn't stop until the bottle is empty.

“There are more,” you say, pointing at the several additional bottles on the nightstand. “And some food and some painkillers. I don't know how well they’ll work. This isn't a normal heat. If you're alright with it, I'll call a doctor and—”

“Everything smells like you,” he says quietly, and you stop.

“...yes. Unless they’re mated, nests usually feel most comforting to an omega when they smell like an alpha.” You swallow, looking away. “...you don't have a mate, and you didn't want a professional, so this was the only option I could think of. I'm sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says. He picks out one of the sweaters that have made its way into the nest, the Sedanian one. “I don't mind it.”

“Oh.” You let out a breath. “Then—can I call a doctor?”

His grip on the sweater tightens. “No.”

You frown. “Aventurine—”

“I’ve never needed a doctor before,” he says. He sounds unbothered, but he's fidgeting with the sweater now. “I don't need one now.”

A lie. He almost certainly needed a doctor in some of his prior heats, but you don't push the matter. “Maybe you don't need one,” you say instead, “but it would help.”

“I don't need help,” he says, and you look at him in disbelief. He catches your expression, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Not more than you've already done, I mean.”

“I’ve barely—”

“Contact Topaz. Tell her I'm incapacitated. Tell her…” He hums. “Tell her I have food poisoning. The personnel too. It's not time-sensitive, our business on Agnisahr, so it shouldn't matter if I need a few days off.”

“You really need—”

“Give my regrets to our Agnisahran friends. Deliver it in person. They see you as my right hand, so they’ll most appreciate it coming from you. Topaz can help you with the verbiage. And—try to socialise with them a little, won't you? I think that little omega princess of theirs likes you. Some of the courtesans too, and they have surprising influence.”

“I do not want to be around any omega other than you right now,” you say before you can stop yourself, and Aventurine stops, blinking. His expression is blank, if perhaps a little curious—but his scent shifts. You can't identify how. You add quickly, “I’m not leaving you alone when you’re this sick.”

“Ah. Right.” Aventurine looks away. His voice sounds strange, and his heat must be getting to him again, because it carries a hint of pain. “But you have to. The IPC’s goals take priority.”

You frown. “Your life is more important than the IPC,” you say, and he laughs. Loudly.

“What? This is just a heat. I’m not going to die.”

“You don’t know that without seeing a doctor.”

“I do. I’m willing to bet money that I won’t die.” He cuts you off before you can reply: yes, you're always willing to bet on your life. “And even if I do, that would still be less important than Agnisahr. Do you know how many resources are on this lifeless rock?” His mouth slants. “If we mess up here, I’m dead anyway.”

“I wouldn’t let them touch you.”

“Yes, you would—because they would kill you too.” Aventurine sighs. His eyes close, and his brow creases—a sign that whatever reprieve he was lucky enough to get is about to end. “Go do what I asked. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll… see a doctor if you do.”

You stand immediately. “Alright. I’ll be back to check on you.”

“I know.”

You stop at the door, giving him a long look. Seeing him like this—lying on a proper bed, cradled in a warm nest, with water and food and medicine nearby—you feel a little better. This is leagues beyond what he’d been afforded in his days as a slave, at the very least. Even if he isn’t free, at least he isn’t trapped.

But it still doesn’t feel good, having to step away. The last thing you want to do is talk to other people, pretend to have interest in other omegas. There are an astonishing number of them who are interested in you on this planet—that princess, and some baron’s son, and one of the prince’s favourite paramours—but you can’t bring yourself to care even for business purposes when Aventurine is like this. You can't act as if you are enjoying yourself when you know he is in pain.

You wonder about telling Topaz the truth. You wonder if she’d be worried enough about Aventurine to let you neglect this mission and cover for you instead, without letting Jade or Diamond or anyone else dangerous know. Not that you think that anyone at the Company particularly cares about Kakavasha—it’s only that he’s valuable. Aventurine of Stratagems is valuable. How many worlds have fallen because of him?

But he seemed unwilling to bet on his worth to them. Which is startling, given how often he's bet on it in the past.

“What’s so important about this planet,” you can’t help but ask, ��that the IPC would rather you die than lose it?”

He’s silent for a long moment. His eyes are closed—hidden—but you can see his knuckles whiten as he clutches the Sedanian sweater.

“Copper,” he says. “They want it for the copper.”

When Kakavasha first suggested a friendship to you, it had felt like something in between a proposition and a threat:

Go ahead, he'd said. Use me as you wish. You can even stab me in the back if you want. Just be mindful of this: I don't make deals that don't pay off.

It might have been a strange way of making friends in any other circumstance, but in a house of slaves, it was a natural one. You had not been a clever person—still aren't—but you understood that your place in the world was one of a tool. This was the place of all slaves: you were all things to be used. Your body was a thing to be used. It was valuable for its strength, for its hardiness, for its threat in the arena and for its convenience in your master’s bed (or in a dark basement, or within a heat house, or inside whichever omega your mistress ordered you to calm down). It did not surprise you that Kakavasha wanted to use it as well. It did not surprise you that Kakavasha expected you to use him in return.

You never would have, of course. Kakavasha was not a thing to be used—he had always been a mate. Though you were happy to let him use you, because all you were was a tool anyway, so it was really all you could offer him: to be used.

None of this has changed for you. You don't think any of this has changed for Aventurine, either. With each new friendship he makes, he repeats those familiar words: Use me as you wish. And with each person who accepts, this is exactly what they do: they use him, and they use him, and they use him until suddenly they notice he's tricked them and they've got the losing hand.

You damned gambler, they always spit. You Sigonian wretch. All you know is how to manipulate people. Thief, liar, cheat, whore. Despite all these insults, Aventurine always smiles at them. Cry as they might, he’s won his bet and has their world in his palms.

Winner takes all, he sometimes gloats.

Winning and losing. Using and being used. Exploitation and treachery. This is all Aventurine knows; these are his great guiding principles in life. (He's told you this point blank, stacking up chips in his favourite gambling dens with a self-satisfied grin.) You often find yourself coming back to these conversations, particularly when you need to convince him of something.

And right now, you very badly need to convince him of something.

Aventurine is ignoring his doctor’s advice. His suppressants are unstable in extreme temperatures, he's been told. During travel on Agnisahr, they'd degraded, and now he’s experiencing his first heat in several years. Of course it's going to be painful, his doctor had said. I can prescribe you some medication to ease the symptoms, but really—nothing will work better than a heat partner. It doesn't need to be a mate. Any alpha will do.

The doctor had been an alpha. You had asked for a beta or omega, but alphas tend to dominate in Interastral Medical Schools, so they're in short supply. Aventurine had been still the whole time, face unreadable, but you could tell he wanted to throw up at the stench of an unfamiliar alpha. You had stepped between the two of them, not bothering to hide the animosity in your voice. We’ll take the medication, you had said, and the doctor had sniffed the air and nodded at you in approval.

Probably won't need it. An alpha like you could sort him out with just a few rounds, he told you, and both of you stayed quiet as he left.

You still aren't talking, or even looking at each other. Aventurine has lay down in his nest again, closing his eyes, while you stand as far away as physically possible—at the door where you'd just shown the doctor out. With the room shut off again, windows closed and door locked, Aventurine’s scent is starting to flood your senses once more. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him shivering.

“What do you want to do?” you ask.

“Nothing.” He swallows. “I'll be fine.”

He's afraid. You can tell he's afraid. And you can tell he’ll be more afraid if you take even a single step closer to him, so you nod and say, “I'll go pick up your medication, then,” and Aventurine doesn't stop you. You can see him curling up in his nest, face pressed into the cashmere sweater.

But he still doesn't stop you.

After a few more days, Aventurine finally breaks.

There is a rare sag to his shoulders when he calls you to the room, along with a taste of dread in the air. You haven't seen him so vulnerable in years. Aventurine is not an open person, so cunning and self-possessed in his wealth—but Kakavasha was more brittle, more powerless, flayed raw and open even though he didn't often get the whip. (It would ruin his value if he ever scarred—his looks were his greatest selling point, your master said.) He was especially defeated when forced to spend his heats with an alpha he didn't want. You wonder, a vice grip of pain around your heart, whether this entire situation is simply an extension of that. Whether he is calling you here against his will, this time compelled by his pain, rather than his master. Whether this luxury suite feels like that wretched basement to him.

He doesn't look at you when he talks, nor does he sit up. He remains curled in his nest, nearly clinging onto the blankets and clothes.

“That stupid medication,” he pants out, sharp even in his heat, “isn't working.”

“I can tell.” Your brow knots. He’s in so much pain, it is palpable. “I”—you hesitate, voice dropping. “Can I help you?”

He goes quiet. As both Aventurine and Kakavasha, he has always been disinclined to accept help from other people. There is no such thing as unconditional help in his mind—only leverage and weakness. He hates it when people have leverage over him, and he hates being weak. Both are things that can be exploited, and Aventurine always needs to be the one doing the exploiting. He always needs to be in control.

Even like this, the last threads of his sanity about to snap, with every circuit of his omega biology trying to drag him into insensible lust, he fights viciously to be in control.

Winning and losing. Using and being used. Exploitation and treachery. Control and being controlled. This is how he's always lived. This is how he's always survived.

This is the only way to let him maintain control when he is most afraid of losing it.

“I don't mind,” you say quietly, “if you use me.”

Even through the haze of heat, Aventurine’s eyes sharpen. “What?”

“I don't mind if you use me,” you repeat, voice neutral. Unfeeling. The proposal might sound cruel to someone else, but not you. After all—your place in the world is one of a tool, and this is what you've always done as an alpha and a slave: sleeping with people to take care of their needs, or sometimes just their desires. It did always make you feel strangely hollow, but you think it will feel just fine with Aventurine. All you've ever wanted to do is keep him safe, and surely, this will do that, but—

“I'll only help if you want. I don't want to force it.” You lower your eyes. “But if you do want it, I'll be careful with you. You can lead. I promise.”

“...I know.” Aventurine’s voice is weak, cracks with pain, but you can tell he's speaking with clarity. “I know you will be.”

You look up. “Then you'll let me help?”

Aventurine looks away—a sign that he cannot adopt his usual smile. He’s clutching that sweater again, pressed close to his chest.

“Just your wrist,” he says quietly.

You listen carefully. “What?”

“I just—I just want your wrist.” He looks away. “Your—your scent gland. Only that.”

“Okay.”

You get up, then falter. When it was your job to comfort your mistress’ omega slaves, you were told to enter their nests—no permission needed from them, no permission needed from you, because only her permission ever mattered for anything. The omegas were usually too delirious to care, often had even begged for it with the state of mind that they were in. But Aventurine is different. He's not like you, and he's not like them. He's never bent to any of his masters’ wills. And even if he did, you wouldn't want to have him bend to yours.

Instead of climbing into his nest, you ask, “Can I sit on the bed?” He doesn't answer. “Just the edge of it,” you add, and you hear him exhale.

“Fine,” he says, breathing measured.

“Thank you,” you say, and he gives you a confused look. But then you're reaching out with a hand, offering it, and he is quickly distracted.

Aventurine drops the sweater, grabs your hand almost immediately. He turns over your palms, fingers tracing your heartlines—as if testing you, as if mapping out territory. He runs his thumbs along the veins of your wrists, too, right over your scent gland, and you have to force yourself not to shudder at the feeling. You only stay still, letting him explore the contours of your hands, letting him acclimate to the feeling of your skin. He laces his fingers with your own, a latticework trap, and he finally drags his wrist along yours.

Both of you inhale sharply.

You can't react. You know it'll scare him if you do, but it's hard to keep still. The way his scent blossoms, the way it mingles with yours, the way it all washes over you—what you're doing can hardly be called touching, but you feel like you're going mad. Especially when he flushes like that, his vibrant eyes fluttering shut. Especially when the sweetness of honey overtakes your senses. Especially when you can smell the way his body is reacting, all that wetness and heat and slick dripping between his legs. You don't miss the way his thighs rub together, nor the hard outline of his cock straining against his pants.

Aventurine shudders. He brings your hand up to his face, rests his cheek in your palm. His skin is flushed and burning with fever, and it's no wonder that he's sighing with relief at your touch. You try not to stare at the way his mouth falls open. He looks at you for a moment, his gaze a hazy violet and blue—before he closes his eyes again and presses his lips into your wrist.

Fuck.

“Aventurine—” You have to stop, voice strangled, when you feel the full softness of his lips working against your skin. He’s panting now, laboured breaths sweeping over your veins. Then you feel his teeth catch, a gentle nip on your flesh, and when he groans into your racing pulse—deep, relieved, desperate, a noise that makes your gut flare with heat—you realise you can't do this.

You pull back your hand, and Aventurine startles.

“Aventurine,” you say, voice strained. Maybe we should stop, you want to say, but he cuts you off.

“I need”—a shaky breath—“I need more.”

You watch Aventurine carefully. His pupils are dilated, blue irises nearly eclipsed. His cheeks are rosy, and he can't stop panting. You can fully smell his arousal now, even through his silk clothes. He's desperate, needing to be filled.

But he also looks torn. His brows are knotted, and you can taste a faint hint of fear in the air now. His knuckles clutch at the sheets, almost white, and he stares at them. He can't look up. He can't look at you. His whole body is tense, like he wants to bolt—and if he weren't so weak, you think he might actually.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He doesn't nod. He also doesn't shake his head. His arms clutch at his midsection as he winces. He doesn't look like Aventurine. He looks like Kakavasha. It makes your heart ache as you watch him give into his body’s demands, wearing the same expression he did on the day your master bought him.

“...don't use your Voice on me,” Aventurine—Kakavasha—says quietly.

It takes you a moment to realise what he's asking. “I won't.”

“And”—his eyes somehow grow even more evasive, hidden by his long lashes— “don’t touch my commodity code.”

His commodity code. His commodity code that is seared into his scent gland. His code that, if you kiss, will ease his agony instantly. His code that, if you bite—will chain him to you irreversibly.

“Of course I won't,” you say instantly.

He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.

“And—” Aventurine looks away, jaw tight. His voice is quiet but wrought with tension: “—I don't like when people put things inside me.”

Something claws the walls of your heart.

“That's fine too,” you reply. “I don't mind doing it the other way.”

Aventurine’s sigh is nearly inaudible, but unmistakable. His scent shifts a little bit, the wildflower fragrance fading ever so slightly. But he doesn't come to you. He merely sits there—waiting. Expecting. Maybe dreading. Even in the senseless daze of heat, he’s too anxious to move.

You approach slowly. Though you're overwhelmed by the bouquet of his scent, though you feel a curl of heat in your belly in response to it—you are slow. Alphas are supposedly victims of insatiable lust whenever around an omega in heat, absolved of every action they take, but you are convinced this is a lie. You have never once wanted to handle Aventurine with such cruelty. You think that inflicting violence on him, more than anything else, would go against your biology. Every molecule in your body would reject putting him in such pain or inciting such fear. So you are careful when you approach him, slow as you inch up to him—but you do not think it helps.

Aventurine lies down, his face turned away from yours. His eyes squeeze shut, like he's expecting this to hurt. Uncertainty gnaws at your gut as you lean over him, draping your body over his—the only position you've ever taken an omega in, other than mounting them from behind.

(You do not want to mount Aventurine. You never have. It is an impersonal position, a position that omega biology supposedly would force him to enjoy, a position that alphas have likely dictated him to enjoy. You think there is nothing you would hate more. In your weakest, most selfish moments, in your worst ruts, when you’ve allowed yourself to fantasise about mating Kakavasha—you are always facing each other, and he is always looking at you with his eyes you've always loved, and it always feels intimate. Never impersonal. Never dictated. Never forced.)

Aventurine is so honeysweet beneath you. More fragrant than any omega you’ve ever been with. You glance at his commodity code, trying to ignore the scent of his branded skin, then lean down to press your face against the other side of his neck, where a faint scar mars the otherwise flawless slope of his nape. Like every other omega slave you've ever slept with, the scent gland there has been excised: a precautionary measure to reduce the risk of an unwanted mating bite.

(Not unwanted by them—the wants of a slave never matter—but unwanted by their owners. A mating bite would ruin the code seared into their neck, claim an omega more deeply and permanently than any titanium collar or carbon steel chain. It would hurt their resale value. Only owners are allowed to claim slaves in such a permanent way—and the wants of a slave have no relevance there, either.)

It's a funny thing, this surgical scar. Even with their gland missing, you've noticed that most omegas like having their neck scented by you anyway, probably from some vestigial instinct. You guess that Aventurine won't be any different, that maybe it will comfort him. But when your lips skim the scar left on him by his owner, his entire body stiffens beneath you. His fragrance cuts into your lungs, sharp.

You recoil, as if burned by the touch of him.

“Sorry,” Aventurine is quick to say. He tries to glance at you, but his diamond pupils quickly avoid you again. “Don’t worry about me. Just do whatever you need to do.”

“But you're scared,” you point out, and you see his brow twitch. “You’re scared when I touch you.”

“Not scared,” he lies. “Just…”

When his eyes finally look at you—land on your lips—you understand.

A bite would claim an omega more deeply and permanently than any titanium collar or carbon steel chain. If you lost your mind—give into the insatiable lust of an alpha whenever around an omega in heat—you might bite him, and then you would own Aventurine.

And Aventurine would rather die than be owned by anyone again.

He doesn't need to finish his sentence. You already know what you need to do.

“It's okay,” you say gently, and his brow knots. “I have an idea.”

Aventurine is always afraid.

This is a fact that has haunted you since the day you met him. You've wondered about how to fix it—the bare minimum as his mate (always his, even if he doesn't want you)—and you’ve never quite pinned down how. Because when someone has spent their life in perpetual fear, how do you make them feel safe? When their life is constantly at risk, how do you ever make them feel calm?

You still aren't sure of the answer. But after seeing Kakavasha become Aventurine, you now have a good guess.

It is clear from his scent that Aventurine does not feel remotely safe right now. Not when you leave to fetch something from your own room, and not when you return. The anxiety thickens when he sees, in your hands, a very familiar muzzle.

Aventurine stares. He is not smiling, but he also does not reveal his discomfort on his face, even as beads of sweat line his temple. But his voice is too controlled, too calm, when he asks, “You kept the mask.”

You nod.

“I told you to throw it out,” he points out, “when I freed you.”

“I know. Sorry. I don't know why I kept it.” You remember how tightly you clutched it before the incinerator, thinking about how strange it would feel, discarding something that you'd worn everyday since you presented—but you don't tell him this. Instead, you say, “But it’s convenient.”

Before Aventurine can say anything, you toss him the remote.

“You’re afraid of my bite and my Voice, but you don't have to be with this,” you explain. Your tone is gentle, soothing. Probably disarming coming from an alpha, with how he is in heat. Perhaps that's why he’s studying the remote rather than chucking it away. “You'll be in full control if I wear this.”

Control. Mere seconds after you say it, you can smell his fragrance change again, mellowing. It's only a brief moment of calm that fades when you latch the mask onto your face, but he doesn't smell as nearly as stressed before.

Aventurine watches you carefully as the carbon steel swallows your maw, its old and familiar edges biting into you. For the first time in years, you cannot tell what he is thinking—truly poker-faced even to you.

“You aren't bothered by wearing that thing while we do this,” he says—asks?—and you shake your head. The muzzle was part of you for years. You were wearing it when you killed someone for the first time. You were wearing it when you went into rut for the first time. You were wearing it when your master had sex with you for the first time. It doesn't bother you that you’ll wear it when you have sex with Aventurine.

If you could speak, you would ask him, Why do you think it would bother me? But all you do is gesture for him to sit up. To switch places with you. You lie down—something you've never done with an omega—and wait for him to get on top.

Aventurine stares at you for a long, quiet moment. It's followed by a sigh of relief. Disarmed, he—for the first time in any heat you've witnessed—finally relaxes. His scent wafts over you as he climbs between your legs, and you can feel the heat radiating from his hands as he parts your thighs, almost scalding.

He doesn't bother getting you ready, too needy to think rationally, but he doesn't have to anyway. You've been wet ever since you felt his mouth touch your wrist, hard ever since you heard him groan into it. You're equally desperate to get some relief as you feel his cockhead sliding against your opening, leaking all over your entrance as his slick drips onto your thighs. His breath shakes as he enters you, and he can't hear it with how you're muzzled—but you groan just as deeply as him at the tight stretch.

You hear him swear when you clench around him, watch him lean over you. His arms shake as he supports himself, refusing to succumb to his heat even as he chases his relief. You seek out his gaze (just as in your dreams, facing each other, intimate), and his neon eyes catch on your eyes for a brief, breathtaking second—

—before he looks away.

There's a flash of—you don't know what, maybe pain? Or fear?—in his irises as he does. A twitch of the brow, a tell he'd normally rather die than let slip. You have the realisation, as Aventurine moves inside you, that even while you're muzzled, even while he has complete control over you—he still can't stand having sex with you. Probably because he can't stand being in heat in general, you tell yourself. Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't use it anymore, don't use me anymore. He'd have this reaction to anyone.

Still—you didn't expect him to have this reaction to you.

Your hands twitch, possessed by an old instinct to cover your eyes. But you'd probably scare Aventurine if you moved your arms, so all you do is dig your fingers into the sheets and squeeze them shut. You tell yourself again and again that he'd hate having sex with anyone in these circumstances—not just you. And then you tell yourself, as a desperate, broken moan leaves his branded throat, that he would also come inside anyone in these circumstances, caught within the cruel grip of his heat.

Aventurine stills inside you as he finishes. He pants, sweat dripping down his temple as he shudders in his ecstasy, his spend hot and thick inside you. You can feel his fever break as he comes down from his high, the heat coming off his body easing into a manageable warmth.

Do you feel better, you try to say, but you can't move your mouth while your mask is on. So you wait patiently for Aventurine to come back to himself, watching him carefully as he pulls out and rolls onto the mattress beside you. He finally glances at you then. His eyes narrow once they land on you, confusion flicking through them. Then displeasure. He reaches for the remote.

To your surprise, he immediately punches in the code to unlock your muzzle. Aventurine has apparently remembered the numbers after all these years, as if the moment he freed you has been since seared into his memory.

“Are you okay?” is the first thing you say, and Aventurine gives you a confused look. He’s still panting, dazed, so you ask, “Can I check your temperature?” And when he nods, you confirm your suspicion: he's still much too warm.

There is an ache between your legs and a strange hollow in your gut (because you aren't very experienced with receiving, you think—your body likely just isn't used to the feeling of it), but you quickly forget them. All you can think of is Aventurine, and how he’s still unwell, and how you need to comfort him. The instinct is so strong that you don't even say anything as you get up, straightening out your clothes.

“Are you leaving?” Aventurine asks. His voice is neutral, completely unbothered, but the thought is so horrific to you that you turn back to him with wide eyes.

“Of course not. I'm going to get you water and medicine.” A beat. You stare at Aventurine’s eyes, then think about how he hid them from you during sex. The hollow feeling comes back, but it's mostly eclipsed by your anxiety at the next thought: “...do you want me to leave?”

“Do you want to?”

“I—” I'd rather die, you think. Being forced to leave him right now would feel like tearing out a piece of yourself. You don't know if there's an alpha in this world who could leave their mate in the middle of a heat. And even if he is unmarked, unattached to you—you still think of yourself as his mate. (His, always his, even if he doesn't want you.) “I would prefer not to. I am your heat partner. I'm supposed to take care of you.”

You hear a quiet breath. “Right. Of course. You're always so conscientious.” Aventurine nods, as if convincing himself of something. “Try not to take too long.”

“I’ll come back soon,” you promise, and the air sweetens. Encouraged, you add, voice gentle: “I’ll bring that medication, and then we can have sex as many times as you need after I come back. I'll make sure you're not in any pain anymore.” You pause, studying him. “Is there anything else you need to feel better?”

His fragrance changes once more, this time in a way you don't totally recognize. “No.” His voice sounds strange. His scent is still foreign, fluctuating, possibly hinting at some kind of pain. The heat must be getting to him again—and of course it wasn't enough, what you just did, what you can provide. He likely needs to be filled to get any kind of lasting relief, but you left him empty. “No, that's all I want.”

You nod, forcing yourself to look calm. Ignoring the emptiness in your gut. It didn't feel bad, but you hope it'll feel better next time you have sex. You think it will. Alphas are supposed to be filled with an insatiable lust near omegas in heat, after all. And even though you’ve never felt that before—never felt anything sleeping with all those omegas in your mistress’ house—you are sure you'll eventually feel it around Aventurine.

But the feeling never comes. Even though you can tell that his heat has returned by the time you're back—sweat beading his temples, laboured breaths at his lips, his bottoms now discarded, with full evidence of arousal between his legs—you don't feel much of anything as you reach for your mask again.

“Don't,” Aventurine says, before it can clasp around your face. You give him a curious look. He explains, “Don't. I don't want to have sex again. Not yet.”

You stare at him, shifting. Uncomfortable. Uncertain. Not knowing how he wants to use you. “What can I do?”

He gives you a long look. “Come here. I… I want your scent gland.”

It's a sensible request. If there's a way to seek relief without fucking someone—without fucking you, which he clearly hated doing—you're sure Aventurine would prefer it. So you climb into his nest, holding your wrist out for him, and—

“No.” His voice is quiet. “I want the one on your neck.”

“...oh.”

You stand there, not sure where to move. If he wants you in his nest again, or if he’d rather do this standing. You’re relieved when he demands, “Lie down.”

You expect him to get on top of you when you do. Assume that he wants complete control—but he instead lies down beside you. Presses his body into yours, and then his face into your neck. His nose and lips brush against your scent gland, a full-body shudder running through him, and—

—and now you know for a fact that it is a lie that alphas want nothing other than to fuck an omega when they're in heat. Because even like this, with his lips sweet on your neck, with the sheets soaked with his slick, with his spend leaking out of you—you do not want to have sex with Aventurine. You only want to hold him. You only want him to keep scenting you. You only want to scent him back.

You only want him to feel safe.

You breathe in deeply, lungs flooded by honey. You think of what it felt like to hold him in that cold basement, when he was delirious with fever and pain, and you think about how different his scent is now. How much sweeter it is. How much calmer he feels.

“Do you feel better?” you ask, and he doesn't respond, but you know the answer. His hands come up to dig into your shirt, and he presses into you like you're a sweater in his nest. Silence blankets over you both, calm and warm. His laboured breath starts to improve.

He does eventually speak.

“Has anyone ever told you,” he says, “what you smell like?”

You stare at him. Your master used to say that you smelled good, but he'd never elaborated, and you hadn't wanted him to. “No.”

Aventurine breathes in.

“You smell like—” A little sigh, shaking and feverish, leaves him. “You smell like rain.”

Your eyebrows tick up. “Rain?”

“Yes. Or not just rain, but”—he pauses, next words quiet—“more Iike after it rains. You smell like the desert after a rainfall.”

“Oh.” You don't know what to say to that. Feeling distinctly like it's a silly question, you ask, “Is that a good scent?”

“Some would think so. Especially to people from the desert. You probably smell like a blessing to them. Although…”

Aventurine goes quiet again. You stare at the chandelier above you, all crystal and white gold, and wait.

“Although?” you prompt.

“...although I wouldn't really know,” he says. “It’s just a hunch. I bet it's why so many omegas on this planet like you.”

You couldn't care less about those other omegas. All you care about is Aventurine. “And?” you say. “Do you like my scent?”

His reply never comes. He just breathes deeply again, seeking relief from your neck—not intimacy. Any alpha’s scent would work; that doctor told you so. Any alpha’s touch would work, too. There are no special feelings involved here. Your place in the world is one of a tool, and tools are never especially liked nor disliked. Their value exists only in how they can be used.

You don't know why you even bothered to ask the question.

But then something strange happens: Aventurine curls against you, pressing even further into you. His lashes flutter against your pulse again; it ticks up in response, beating fast against his lips.

“I do,” he says quietly. “I do like it.”

You swallow. “But I guess that's because you're in heat. Any alpha would smell good to you, wouldn’t they?”

“No.” His fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt. “No, I like it because it's yours.”

You know better than to read too much into his response. Aventurine had already said it earlier: No foreign scents. He's only tolerating this whole arrangement because you don't smell unfamiliar to him. Only able to use you because you are the least threatening option.

But the words break something in you—break the thing that made you unable to throw out that little pouch of copper coins that you were saving up for Kakavasha’s freedom, the part of you that made you wear that carbon-steel mask for him. It is this part of you that has your eyes squeezing shut and your arms wrapping around him. You know he’ll recoil, reject you, but just this once—you need to try.

Aventurine doesn't push you away.

He melts into you instead, inhaling deeply. Your scent gland tingles with the warmth of his breath, the feeling of his lips. He seems—comfortable.

You can't fathom why he’s staying in your arms. Perhaps he's simply desperate for some kind of relief from his heat, just like when you held him in the basement while he was delirious from pain. But Aventurine had spoken to you with clarity just now, and his skin doesn't feel scalding so much as warm, and his scent is so different than from that moment. So sweet and so gentle, without a trace of fear. It makes your heart squeeze. As much as you've always wanted Aventurine to feel safe, you'd never imagined that his scent would be so beautiful when he is.

It makes your heart ache. You've never held anything so lovely before, and you’ve never felt so warm before, and it all makes up for how badly it hurt to let Aventurine inside you. How hollow it made you feel to let him use you. How none of that matters as long as you can keep him safe like this, because you belong to Kakavasha. You'll always belong to Kakavasha, in a fate that was chosen for you on the day you met him.

You're his, always his—even if he’ll never want you.

end part i

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and thank you most of all to YOU! I appreciate you so much for reading this chapter. thank you so much for sticking it through.

additional end notes

[amrv-5]

Genuinely unbelievable how much basic face to face conversation makes life feel good and worthwhile and bearable 😭

[batfluffs]

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[heavenangelly]

Be God.

We sometimes fall victim to the 3d/mirror, which makes us waver and accept circumstances that we don’t want to accept. But it feels too real so you end up feeling hopeless, like you can’t do anything about it. You end up feeling like you can’t manifesting and find yourself in the constant cycle of WAITING. WAITING for something to happen and for YOU to be shown proof of what you want.

Let me tell you something; IT DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT. The 3d is a MIRROR. YOU validate IT. The mirror cannot show you what you aren’t showing IT. It will always reflect YOU/imagination. You’re seeing your mental creations being made physical. But where was it created first? IMAGINATION. The mirror can only make things physical when YOU accept them as already so/they’re already done/you are that person.

You’re literally GOD. You can create and be anything you can imagine. But the problem comes in when you bring in the MIRROR.

Do you really need to be validated by the MIRROR? So much so that you rely on it to be happy? To prove to you that you have your desire? Are you that weak? Can you really not accept it as done and be satisfied by YOUR WORD? By Gods (your) word?

Realise who you are. Realise that you create what you are currently seeing and feeling. Realise there is no other source that affects your life/manifestations but yourself.

It’s always going to be:

Want something —> accept that you have it in imagination/ it is done —> continue to be that person who has what they want bc you literally do. It’s in imagination, the reality that creates everything, so therefore it is true/manifested.

You don’t need a mirror to prove that you have what you want. It will show you that you have what you want when you show IT that you have what you want.

Don’t wait. Don’t wish. Don’t cry. Don’t stress.

ACCEPT THAT ITS ALREADY DONE.

I insist that you work on manifesting things through a god mindset. This doesn’t mean having a god complex where you think you’re better than everyone and that everyone should worship you, it means that you know you create and can manifest anything. The feeling is not a power trip, it’s a realisation of who you are. It’s not 3d based. Having a god mindset just means you only care about your word and not what the mirror is showing you. You trust yourself and have faith in yourself, in your abilities and don’t contradict yourself and always live in imagination/the 4d while still operating in the 3d knowing it’s done.

It’s an inner validation (from yourself), not an outer one.

Now practice it. Pick whatever you want and accept that it’s already done bc it truly is. Don’t go looking for it in the 3d or assume it in the 3d, just know it’s done in imagination/within. And when you falter because of the mirror, remind yourself who matters. You, as god of your reality, or the mirror, your creation?

Be god.

[yellowocaballero]

Putting @loneswaggingranger because they said it a lot better and more succinctly than I did!

A good character is one with a consistent internal logic - whose actions make sense no matter what because they are the type of person to do so. An antagonist can still have the internal logic of a hero, even if that logic is out of touch with reality or empathy. ATSV is well-done in every way, and it's too good a movie to have a character suck just because he sucks. That's not a story ATSV is interested in telling. It loves people too much for that.

Miguel is Fine, Actually (Being Spider-Man's Just Toxic As Hell)

Before I watched ATSV I said that I would defend my man Miguel O'Hara's actions no matter what, because he's always valid and I support women's wrongs. I was joking, and I did not actually expect to start defending him on Tumblr.edu. But I'm seeing a lot of commentary that's super reductive, so I do want to bring up another perspective on his character.

Miguel wasn't acting against the spirit of Spider-Man, or what being Spider-Man means. Miguel isn't meant to represent the antithesis of Spider-Man. Miles is the antithesis of Spider-Man. Miguel represents Spider-Man taken to its extreme.

Think about Miguel's actions from his perspective. If you were a hero who genuinely, legitimately, 100%, no doubt about it, believed that somebody is going to make a selfish decision that will destroy an entire universe and put the entire multiverse at severe risk - if you had an over-burdened sense of responsibility and believed in doing the right thing no matter what - you would also chase down the kid and put him in baby jail to try and prevent it. He believed that he was saving the multiverse, and that Miles was putting it in danger for selfish reasons. Which is completely unforgivable to him, because selfishness is what he hates the most. And then he goes completely out of pocket and starts beefing with a 15yo lmfaooo he's such a dick.

But why did Miguel believe that? Why did he believe that Miles choosing himself and his own happiness over the well-being of others was the worst possible thing? Why did he believe that tragedy was inevitable in their lives, and that without tragedy Spider-Man can't exist?

Because he's Spider-Man.

Peter Parker was once a fifteen year old who chose his own happiness over protecting others. It was the greatest regret of his life and he never forgave himself. Peter's ethos means that he will put himself last every time, and that he will sacrifice anything and everything in his life - his relationships, his health, his future - to protecting and helping others. Peter dropped out of college because it interfered with Spider-Man. He destroyed his own future for Spider-Man. He ruins friendships and romantic relationships because Spider-Man was more important. If Peter ever tries to protect himself and his own happiness, then he's a bad person.

That is intrinsic to Peter. Peter would not be Peter without it. A story that is not defined by Peter's unhappiness is not a Spider-Man story. If Peter doesn't make himself miserable, then he's just not Peter.

That is a Spider-Man story: that not only is tragedy inevitable, that if you don't allow yourself to be defined by your tragedy then you're a bad person. If you don't suffer, then you're a bad person. If you ever put anything above Spider-Man, then you're killing Uncle Ben all over again. Miguel isn't the only one that believes this - as we saw, every Spider-Man buys into what he's saying. There's no Spider-Man without these beliefs.

Miguel attempted to find his own happiness, and he was punished in the most extreme way. He got Uncle Ben'd x10000. He tried to be happy, and it literally destroyed his entire universe. It's the Spider-narrative taken to the extreme. Of course Miguel believes all of this. Of course he believes this so firmly. He's Spider-Man. That's his story. And the one time Miguel tried to fight against that story, he was punished. And like any Spider-Man, he'll slavishly obey that narrative no matter the evil it creates and perpetuates. Because if he doesn't, the narrative will punish him. The narrative will always punish him. It's a Spider-Man story.

I don't think the universal constant between Spider-Mans, the thing that makes them Spider-Man, is tragedy. I think it's the fact that they never forgive themselves. And Miguel is what that viewpoint creates. He doesn't believe this things because he's an awful, mean person. He believes them because he's a hero. He's a good person who hates himself.

Across the Spider-verse isn't really a Spider-Man story. It's a story about Spider-Man stories. Miguel's right: if this was a Spider-Man story, then Miles acting selfishly really would destroy the universe. But Miles' story isn't interested in punishing him. It pushes back against Peter's narrative that unhappiness is inevitable and that you have to suffer to be a good person. It says that sometimes we do the right thing from love and not fear, and that Peter's way of thinking is ultimately super toxic and unhappy. ITSV was about Miles deciding that he didn't need to be Peter Parker, that all he needed to be was Miles, and ATSV is about how being Peter Parker isn't such a good thing. Miguel shows that. Whatever toxic and unhealthy beliefs he holds - they're the exact same beliefs that any Spider-Man holds. He's a dick, but I don't think he's any more awful a person than Peter is.

TL;DR: Miguel isn't a bad person, he just has Spider-Man brainrot.

[peachkkuma]

ᰍִ ۫͟ ͟ ☁️ ִ✧ 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

hello, I’m Tiffany and this is my manifestation diary! If you haven’t read my previous diary entries yet, recently I’ve come to the realization that I’ve overcome all of my obstacles and there truly is nothing in my way except for me. So I made the decision yesterday to put my foot down and take the leap of faith, in other words, stop putting off manifesting my dream life because of fear. now this account will hold not just my diary entries but also the documentation of my journey to finally and seriously manifest my dream life.

╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄ ♡ ♡ ♡ 05.21.2024

let’s begin!

ㅤㅤㅤ𝐈. ⊰ ۫ 🐻‍❄️ ◌ ִ ੭ ˑ DEFINING THE OBJECTIVE

I want to make the end goal a bit more clear, the term dream life is both pretty straightforward and a bit vague. what would I like my dream life to include? how would my dream life make me feel? and ofc, I’m not just manifesting my dream life, I’m manifesting my dream self. what would my self concept be? how would I like to be?

tiffany’s dream life check list - what it means to live my dream life

attend my dream school

be 100% perfectly healthy (physically, mentally, emotionally, in every way basically)

have good eating habits and a good relationship with food

have perfect straight A pluses (revision to previous grades as well)

have the perfect friend group for me

healthy, super soft, hydrated, moisturized, smooth clear skin (and elimination of acne genes) (body + face)

perfect tangle free hair at all times, pretty, voluminous, bombshell hair

a healthy, perfect, loving relationship with everyone in my family

own a super cute and fluffy golden retriever puppy

high paying jobs for my parents <3

have a rolls royce with a pink exterior

grow taller

have every single clothing item I’ve saved on Pinterest

have my YouTube channel blow up

complete head to toe desired appearance

desired lifestyle

perfect eyesight

be super good at makeup and have all desired products

have a gorgeous bedroom

have a very active and lively social life

have the perfect, most ideal school, social, and home life

completely healed phone addiction

have a lot of desired hobbies that I’m very good at

have a fun and eventful life, always have fun plans and something going on

be on the right track career-wise

elimination of social anxiety and shyness

high self esteem and confidence

be more in touch with my culture

be a complete master at manifestation

huh, this is shorter and less serious than I thought it’d be, ig this was also a way of getting out of my own head. I thought manifesting my dream life would be a bit challenging for some reason, but ig a dream life rlly isn’t as complex as I thought it was. I mean now I feel silly, it’s just a dream life! nothing more than a lifestyle and a few personal fixes. I feel like I just got humbled.

𝐈𝐈. ʚ ⊹ ִ⏲️ 𑁯͟ ɞ THE OUTLINE

alright, I know what I want and I know how manifestation works. but just to make sure I don’t over complicate anything or things dont get confusing, I’ll create a sort of plan or outline. Little steps I can fall back on if I get a bit lost.

step number one we have covered, have a desire

step number two, put your foot down and make the firm decision that you have it. this decision is for good, nothing u do can take this decision away so don’t u dare worry about “ruining progress” or “messing up”— u’re better than that.

step number three, once you’ve decided it’s done, it’s done. the only and I mean it when I say only thing for you to do is to act like it. imagine you, the creator of your reality, making the decision that you have something only to then be like “is it coming?” “do I have it?” BE FR!! act like you have it, think like you have it, and see the world as if you have it— because you do. you decided you did, didn’t u? It’s ur reality, what u say, goes. and no, you’re not acting like u have it to get something out of the 3D, you’re doing it for your sanity. Because you deserve a break, you deserve relief, you deserve to be the you that has it all!! let yourself be in the sowf because why shouldn’t u be certain you have it? don’t entertain anything that says u don’t. getting in the sowf is easy, u deciding u have it is all the confirmation u need. there’s no reason for u to not be certain u have it.

sowf = knowing that u have it

step number four, optional not necessary but it’s really gonna help and is fun. immerse yourself in the new story. experience it!! have fun!! u finally got what u want, u finally r who u want to be, so choose to live that life!! try methods for the sake of fulfilling urself (never to make anything appear in the 3D, u know better, 3D desperation doesn’t get anybody anywhere.) try out methods to have fun and be more familiar with having what u want.

that’s it girl, that’s all u gotta do, that’s all u ever had to do. decide it, experience it, assume it. u don’t always have to feel “good” or “happy” u just have to know u have what u want, u just have to assume. the goal is to truly know that u have it, to be faced with the 3D and still know it in ur bones u have what u want. u deserve to trust urself like that, u deserve to be fulfilled like that, and u deserve those things from YOU not from the 3D. U deserve to feel secure in urself, don’t let ur security come from the 3D. loa bloggers mean it when they say the materialization is simply the cherry on top and I get that now. For me, it’s about being able to depend and trust urself, to rely on urself, and in that way everything else comes off the pedestal.

✉️ : ahhh I forgot to finish up this post yesterday but here it is!! I’m so excited!! part two to come soon ♡

[babanasaur]

Hello!

How do you draw anthro faces? I’ve been trying to learn and struggling with the mouths and eyes in particular

Ahhh, generally I don't have a "way" to draw any specific face or feature. Anthros are so varied and different with the beaks and the fangs and such. I personally suggest to try breaking stuff down into simple 3D shapes (emphasis on the 3D) and then combining that with real photo refs. Here is a video on breaking down simple and complex shapes, I don't think it is entirely helpful but it's a good start.

Here is a little demo of what I do for anthro canine heads. It's kinda just a lot of liquify and repositioning, especially with the eyes. I actually wouldn't call myself an expert with face shapes cause I really just wing it. People may feel like my anatomy is super accurate because I shade in 3D shapes. I draw a sphere, I place a hexagonal cylinder for the snout, add the nose and then and that boomerang triangle slope to blend the bridge of the nose into the face. I make rounded or hexagonal shapes for the jowls on the muzzle. All these harsh edges get blended into the sphere head. (hopefully this helps)

[multiplicationdivision]

Boots and All

Eddie knew he shouldn’t have been so careless with his favorite pair of boots. He’d just shrugged them off like any day, unfortunate considering they’d been lost in the chaos of cleaning out his closet, probably having fallen or absent mindedly placed in one of the many boxes he’d brought to the local second hand store.

Now his own face stared back at him, the same complex mixture of expressions battling there like it probably did on his own. Surprise all the same, although his copy’s was tainted by something like shame or bashfulness, face grimacing in being caught in the act. Further complicated by the eyes shooting cautious glances up and down Eddie, drinking him in.

The shamelessness in the guy was quickly fading though. Eddie wasn’t really a shameful type.

Likely the guy was just some poor young man who’d tried on his old pair of boots and had his young DNA completely overwritten by Eddie’s complete load stored in that worn leather. It was a trend with anyone with too much contact with him, although no one had such a dosage. Mostly people just came away with a slight rugged charm or a strange new proclivity towards manual labor.

“Hey Handsome” his clone finally decided on, rougish and confident. The guy seemed to wallow in Eddie-ness and unfortunately for the original, was already ahead in merely his stance. It made his mind go places. “Didn’t expect to find Eddie 1.0 so soon, although I can’t say your memories are very up to date”, the other guy said, taking a step back to get a better view. Eddie would feel almost like he was being dissected by the guy’s view, but he’d done the same hungry analysis of his body in the mirror hundreds of times.

This was better than the mirror. 3D, showing off every curve and tight twist of clothing around hard fought muscle. A replication of his work clothes hung off the other guy, torn to shreds and likely very easy to tear away. They’d be able to make short work of it.

“I’d imagine I could be convinced to give you an update” Eddie thought of just how that would work, but if his sweat had done this transformation, he’s sure just a little more would perfect the job.

He wondered how deep they could make this replication. The guy already stood like him, crossed his arms like him. The voice and tone perfect, complete with the way he readjusted his dick unsubtly.

“I know you Eddie, got it all downloaded by your boots. Our boots now I guess. Can’t say you’ll need much convincing. We’ve dreamed of something like this for ages.” the other guy spoke, referencing years of past loves where they never seemed to get him, back before Eddie had been overpoweringly himself. Years of work on himself had wrought this oddity he guessed.

Eddie wondered who this other guy used to be. Probably less than an hour ago he’d been a completely different person. Had maybe strolled in the shop for cheap boots only to be reconfigured completely. It was an existentially troubling idea, but Eddie was never the moral type. Just curious.

“Because I can practically read your mind Eddie, you are an upgrade. Trust me, I was far from a catch” He said, closing the space. Shoving his hand into Eddie’s shorts in a way that would certainly not fly as public subtlety, as far as their probably guise as being impossibly similar identical twins would cut it. Calloused hands scratched his stomach before reach down into his pocket and thieving his car keys. “Went by Robbie, was something like a stoner college drop out. Not much else to say besides that, went into this shop to try at a construction job.”

“Do you want me to call you Rob then?” Eddie offered, mind trying to control his erection as the other guy jokingly knocked his tent, threatening Eddie’s control over not cumming so quick into a narcisistic fantasy.

“Fuck no, couldn’t stand being the guy. Hated every second of that life.” They stalked over to his (their?) truck, dodging onlookers in the parking lot as best as 2 horny 61/2 foot men could. Eddie’s soundness sneakers behind his clone’s heavy gait. His clone pulled himself into the driver’s seat, already pulling on Eddie’s sunglasses and revving the engine as if to enunciate further how easily he fit into his role.

Eddie agreed with the guy. His life was certainly better. Their life was going to be so much better.

Eddie leaned on the glove box as his duplicate effortlessly sped their boxy heavy duty truck out. Just to lightly touch his elbow to his clone’s. Watch the way the guy’s eyes twitched as whatever sweat he’d left on the stearing wheel from todays humid day poured Eddie’s white hot memories on whatever sad pile of Robbie remained. The other him appeared to glow with energy at every moment, accelerating and obviously glancing back at his original as he sped. Searching Eddie, hungry for something like approval.

Eddie would make sure the guy got a full dosage of his own enthusiasm when their truck rattled into their drive way. Eddie mind was already racing with the possibilities and if his DNA was working like it seemed to be, he was sure the other guy shared them all.

The future was going to be nebulous, but there were some certainties. Eddie would fuck the rest of the clearly unwanted alien bits of another man out of that extension of himself. They’d fall asleep after a day or so of that, just to make sure the job was good and done. They’d wake up and the clone would go to work, only so the next night they could see how much they could meld their memories together given the guy would now share his infectious DNA. Probably a lot more fucking after that. Maybe spend the weekend not completely lost to themselves, try out everything he loved as a pair. His life becoming domestic.

The uncertain bits were there, not yet decided but almost certain. Eddie had gone to trade school but he fancied himself a scientist. Experiments needed to be replicable, observations re-observed. Eddie seemed to be very replicable now himself and with now 2 Eddie’ worth of curiosity, he was sure they’d buckle to the temptation eventually.

Thrift stores could always use a quality pair of reliable boots and the world could certainly use a couple more quality men.

————————————————————

Inspired by the older man clone tf stories by @dante2045 highly recommend those if you haven’t read them.

[myun-saidthoughts]

The Complexities of Having a Water Moon & It's Influence When Dealing With Saturn/Neptune/Pluto Aspects:

I wanted to make a post about aspects and how much influence aspects can have within a chart. (Needless to say the zodiac sign the planet is in/and the house it is in will bring influence as well)

My theory is that when it comes to your Sun, or Moon and there are aspects towards those planets that are extremely tight orbs; (the tighter the orb the more influential it is towards the natal individual) will cause an internal shift, these aspects can influence 3D manifestations of either harsh or soft experiences and situations. The Moon and Sun in a natal individual represents the Mother and the Father as well as your self identity, your ego, the confidence you hold (or lack thereof) and emotional coping styles/how you process emotion and feelings.

To begin, how well or poorly your Moon is aspected in your chart is key to understanding your emotions. It also reveals how you perceive your mother, how she processed emotions, and how she dealt with them.

Therefore if you have a water moon such as a Cancer, Scorpio or Pisces moon, this would mean a few different things with how you perceive your mother and how you process emotions.

Note: Your IC and your moons aspects will be the true dictator of how intense or harsh your emotions/your relationship with your mother can be.

I also personally believe if you have had a harsh or cold childhood then these tendencies to take on other zodiac traits will be more prominent or present, as well as if you have natal 8th, or 12th house placements along with these harsh aspects to your moon then that is when the influence of this will be very prominent.

Neptune rules Pisces

Saturn rules Capricorn and Aquarius

Pluto rules Scorpio

I am aware that Saturn is traditionally ruled by Aquarius and Uranus modernly rules Aquarius, but for this purpose, I will state both rulerships. I will provide descriptions of what it means when these outer planets aspect your Moon.

So if you have a Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces moon that tightly opposes, conjuncts, or squares Neptune, Pluto, Saturn, or Uranus, you will take on traits similar to a Pisces, Scorpio, Aquarius, or Capricorn moon.

(You basically will have your natal moon but with the influence of another zodiac trait; and this can influence your natal moon qualities)

A direct example of this is if you're a Scorpio moon but it aspects Neptune, you may exhibit more Piscean qualities by default. Alternatively, if it aspects Saturn, you may display more Aquarian or Capricorn traits by default.

This also means if you have a Pisces moon that also harshly aspects Neptune, you may be more Piscean in nature, so you deal with more Piscean themes when it comes to love, romance or emotions etc.

Water Moon Aspecting Neptune:

If your Moon conjuncts, opposes, or squares Neptune; then you may have tendencies to act as a Pisces moon when it comes to themes related to emotion. Whatever house your Moon is in will paint a better picture of what theme would invoke Pisces tendencies. This also would be more prominent if you have 12th House placements, such as a 12th house Moon, Venus, Sun, Mars, or Mercury.

With this placement (and on the extreme spectrum), if you have a Cancer moon that harshly aspects Neptune, you might have been the child who comforted or gave aid to your mother starting at a very young age. She might have always been asking for help or been helpless in some shape or form. She might have struggled with partnerships, and she wasn't the type of Mom that you needed. You might have seen her always being pushed around by the people around her or throughout her life, and boundaries weren't consistent in your home. As a Cancer moon, you might have been the one taking care of her, making sure she ate, had enough water, or you constantly worried about her. There were times where she might come to you for comfort rather than the other way around. You more than likely parented her because a part of you felt like you had to, there was this unsaid obligation within where you felt like you had to take on this role.

With a Scorpio moon that tightly aspects Neptune (in an extreme sense the tighter the orb the more influential this aspect will be for the native) the relationship between the two of you might have been more extreme, intense, and emotionally charged. There were constant battles and shifts from intense emotional abandonment to complete presence. If she didn't show you love, you felt her hate. Explosiveness might have occurred, and she might have struggled with BPD tendencies or addiction. She might have shown you how much she could love you; and in an abrupt change of moment, show you how little she could. She might have chosen other people or things over you and her attitude towards you needs weren't a priority. With the Pisces nature she might have cried to you insistently over her problems, she might have shared her past, shared all the hurt she endured, and state how no one 'saved' her or came to her aid when she needed it the most. Because of that you now feel her pain, her damage and her wrath; you now may view her in a place of empathy or understanding, and that could blur the boundaries within you when it comes to accepting a type of love that doesn't serve you when it comes to romantic or platonic relationships.

In a general nature if your moon makes harsh aspects to Neptune your Mom might have struggled with reality, had self destructed coping mechanisms, addiction, dissociation, or she struggled with communicating necessary things to you. Boundaries for emotional support or the parent-child dynamic might have been something you were never satisfied with, and the boundaries between her being a Mom and you being the child were blurred. You understood her pain and therefore felt the need to take on her hurt, you may have allowed her abuse or mistreatment (however minor or severe it is) since there was a part of you that understood why she struggled, acted or made poor decisions.

(If you have a Pisces moon with the moon aspecting Neptune you may relate to everything I stated above)

On the other hand, if your Moon is in another sign or the IC is not poorly placed, or if this does not resonate with you, then your mom could have been overly dissociated in a different subtle manner. It may not have been a detrimental situation involving abuse or intensity, but perhaps she was never open or communicative with you in the way you needed, or she had other priorities or tasks she focused on. Or she may have even been reliant on medical drugs to manage her mental health, which could have created some distance between you both. Maybe she was present but not emotionally present in the way that your soul needed, she might have also brushed secrets, problems or issues away causing distance and reluctance with sharing your own issues or thoughts to her. You might have been confused with how she operated.

Now these definitions may also resonate with you if your Sun harshly aspects Neptune, and if that is the case your Father would be the one who struggles with the above statements. If your Sun isn't in a water sign the chances of his behavior still being influential towards you is still likely, especially if the orb is extremely tight. There are of course differences with how it may manifest but overall there will be similar themes

So with this natal placement and when it comes to your emotional nature, you could now have Pisces tendencies when it comes to how you love, want to be loved, or how you treat others, (especially so if you have a 12th house Venus, Sun, Mars etc).

EX: If you have a 11th House Scorpio Moon that aspects Neptune, you might become more Piscean when it comes to friendships. You may idealize the perfect friend group, long for a connected soul tribe, and place your own needs on the back burner for the sake of others, especially when it comes to friends and your community. You might find yourself giving to your friendships even when those individuals do not deserve your consideration or sacrifices. You place friendships on a very high pedestal, and often the boundaries of how you are as a friend can be taken advantage of. You may allow poor behavior to continue because seeking redemption with friends is second nature to you, especially if you struggle with confidence, self-worth, or self-love. Though you relate to a Scorpio Moon, on a subconscious level, you may exhibit Piscean tendencies in how you react to or treat others. Your emotional nature might be very intense; you may have deep compassion that others don’t share, and you can be more forgiving and open to rekindling connections because you "understand" them.

Water Moon Aspecting Pluto:

If your Moon conjuncts, opposes, or squares Pluto; then you may have tendencies to act as a Scorpio moon when it comes to themes related to emotion. This also would be more prominent if you have natal 8th house placements, such as a 8th house Moon, Venus, Sun, Mars, or Mercury.

Now when you have a water moon and it harshly negatively aspects Pluto, then the intensity of your emotions is more likely to be heightened, prominent, present and emotionally charged. In essence, this adds a deeper and darker layer when it comes to the connection between you and your Mom. It also showcases the relationship with how you process and deal with emotions. You might resonate with either an "all or nothing" mindset, emotions may arise and they might sit in you in a heavy manner, but once the feeling passes it may feel like that feeling that manifested is no longer representative of what you "actually" feel. This would be more accurate for those who struggle with contradictions in their natal chart; such as having an earth Sun or Rising. The more contradictions in your chart the more heavy this aspect will feel.

(The tighter the orb the more influential this aspect would feel for the natal individual)

This would usually also indicate that you search for relationships that hold intensity with constant highs or lows. You may search for eyes to bring you a sense of peace within your bones, and because of that you may overlook everything else about the individual because they allow you to feel so deep within; it fulfills your soul in a way that you can't mimic by yourself. Intense emotions often feels familiar within you and so if there is someone in your life that doesn't "create" that exact intense feeling within, the chances of you being drawn to or interested in them is less likely.

In other words, your childhood likely involved intense emotional experiences. Your mother may have frequently dealt with overwhelming emotions, often creating an environment charged with emotional intensity. She may have shown tendencies of BPD, sharing her feelings in a way that made you feel her pain deeply. As a result, your threshold for intense emotion is now very high.

This exposure may have led you to internalize a similar approach to handling emotions, making you more prone to experiencing emotional turmoil. You may sometimes have explosive episodes due to built-up anxiety or unresolved hurt from those early experiences, processing emotions in a way that mirrors the dynamics you grew up with. In my opinion this natal aspect could evoke internal complexities and self worth/value dilemmas. You may search for external validation where you need others to tell you that you are worthy, valuable or important. Without that outside reassurance the emptiness of who you are as you are may be blurry or nonexistent. You may have dealt with emotional abandonment due to your Mother being physically or emotionally absent in your life. She may have chosen other things, or situations over you which could have caused an internal self belief that you are not lovable, worthy or important. It's important to stay aware of self-undoing behaviors that could cause you more harm than good, especially if you are unaware of any internal wounds you have when it comes to abandonment, self worth, self value or self love.

I won't go too in-depth on how Pluto will manifest with each moon because, in my opinion, all water moons will have similar experiences when dealing with Pluto. But if your Pisces moon aspects Pluto then this might showcase your mother having an extreme behavior when it comes to needing something from the child. The child would either have to place their needs on the back burner by having to save or fix their mothers' wounds. This type of manifestation of the aspect might involve more nuanced or erratic behaviors, such as the mother asking for help or to be saved, then suddenly abandoning the child or leaving without warning. (This is an extreme case; the tighter the orb, the stronger the influence of this aspect).

Now these definitions may also resonate with you if your Sun harshly aspects Pluto, and if that is the case your Father would be the one who struggles with the above statements. If your Sun isn't in a water sign the chances of his behavior still being influential towards you is still likely, especially if the orb is extremely tight. There are of course differences with how it may manifest but overall there will be similar themes

Water Moon Aspecting Saturn:

If your Moon conjuncts, opposes, or squares Saturn; then you may have tendencies to act as a Capricorn moon when it comes to themes related to emotion. This also would be more prominent if you have natal 10th house placements, such as a 10th house Moon, Venus, Sun, Mars, or Mercury.

Another theme worth noting is the effect of a water moon aspected by Saturn. This aspect often creates a heightened push-and-pull between feeling emotions deeply and restraining them, which can be overwhelming. Emotions may arise readily within you, yet due to outside influences or early experiences, you may have learned to keep them quiet from a young age. You might have been taught, that crying signifies weakness, or perhaps you received praise for ignoring your emotions and now that pattern or reaction to emotions sits within you. 

If, as a child, you were hurt but, instead of naturally crying, you learned to swallow your pain—and may have even received acknowledgment for doing so—this pattern likely carried into adulthood. This learned approach now shapes how you process emotions, creating a tendency to feel deeply yet keep those feelings hidden, even from yourself. For those with a Scorpio moon, this internal struggle may feel even more pronounced, leading to an even greater tendency to avoid emotions or self-reflection altogether.

In life, you might rely more on logic during arguments and view situations with less empathy than would have if you were a child, you may feel as if focusing on logic is safer or more acceptable than expressing vulnerability. This conditioned tendency may stem from instances when, as a child, you needed comfort that never came. You learned to manage your feelings alone, often in isolation, which now makes it difficult to offer compassion or emotional attunement to others, as you haven’t learned to extend that same compassion to yourself.

In another sense since you have heightened emotions, another way your feelings could manifest is through physical symptoms. You may struggle with OCD tendencies, anxiety or have high reactions to minor situations. This is the only way your body knows how to process the built up pain or emotions you have stored in your body. Physically feeling a symptom often prompts you to act on it which prompts you to self soothe in those moments. But in reality the deep rooted pain within is either still being dismissed or ignored. The one emotion you may only allow yourself to feel is anger, being angry may somehow be the easiest visceral emotion to let out, but behind that anger there is more pain and misunderstanding than you may even be truly aware of (This specific analysis is on the extreme spectrum so if you don't resonate with the intensity of this particular polarity with emotions then disregard).

You may want to give others compassion or empathy but there's this part of your brain that doesn't allow you to do so. You can see others hurting but you can't readily feel their exact emotion within, therefore you may look at the situation as unnecessary. And when you do amount to your heightened emotion the chances of you having an overwhelming amount of feelings is very likely (but this may be more so true for those with a Scorpio moon that aspects Saturn) Overall, you are very sensitive within, you hold more emotion than you readily feel available to acknowledge and you've learned to shun that side of you away; but in one way or another these emotions will come flooding out. You may find yourself highly reactive when you drink alcohol, or you may be more emotional, this is the part of yourself that you more than likely hide or ignore when at wake.

Moreover, a water moon aspecting Saturn often reflects a significant influence from your mother in your life. She may have shared her pain with you in ways that felt overwhelming, while not offering the care, nurturing, or emotional presence you needed. Her emotional needs or turmoil may have often taken center stage, leaving you feeling overlooked or unimportant. She may have had narcissistic tendencies, where she would constantly belittle your pain or hurt and base the fact that she's "hurting" more than you ever could. That alone would cause a great internal struggle within yourself where you would feel like holding onto any emotion promoted more problems, and so you'd rather now ignore anything to do with deep emotion.

Your inner child is now asking for empathy, kindness, and compassion. Give yourself grace and acknowledgment for all the times your emotions were ignored. Deep down, your true self is open, giving, and loving—this is the part of you that wants to be expressed, even if you were never shown that it was allowed to emerge. Now, you have the power to shift your perspective to create a space for emotional fulfillment, and to allow yourself that freedom. But remember you don’t owe anyone anything. If your mother used guilt, pain, or emotional immaturity against you then you have every right to choose what feels best for your relationship with her. However, you do owe yourself the chance to give yourself the kind of care you were never shown.

Now these definitions may also resonate with you if your Sun harshly aspects Saturn, and if that is the case your Father would be the one who struggles with the above statements. If your Sun isn't in a water sign the chances of his behavior still being influential towards you is still likely, especially if the orb is extremely tight. There are of course differences with how it may manifest but overall there will be similar themes

The themes of how your Moon may manifest is also dependent on the house, so if your Moon (especially that aspects Neptune) is in the 7th house, then you may have tendencies to give a lot of time, energy or care with relationships/partnerships. You may feel like you are at your best when you have someone next to you, or you may feel like your identity may rests on "others." You may have a lack of boundaries when it comes to relationships and the part of you that wants to give and give and give is very present and influential with how you operate in relationships. Theres always a part of yourself that is readily available for another, it's more natural for you to give or allow unfair behaviors to occur within your life, especially if you are unaware of your inner emotional wounds.

The way your Sun manifests also depends on the house placement. A Sun on the angles—such as the 1st, 4th, 7th, or 10th house—has a more direct influence on the native. Sun in the 1st house may suggest a father who exhibits selfish behaviors, while Sun in the 10th house suggests a father who prioritizes his work, status, or reputation over the child. He may focus solely on his own needs in relation to work or be physically absent due to other obligations and responsibilities.

Your Sun represents your ego—how you perceive yourself in terms of accomplishments, how you express and present your ideas, and your thoughts. It reflects your confidence and the part of you that directly aligns with what you feel capable of achieving. It's the foundation of how you view yourself, it can dictate whether you struggle with imposter syndrome or feel comfortable stating your mind and desires.

(I won't go too in-depth with how this may manifest since it can be very complexed but if you are interested in learning more when it comes to the Sun let me know in the comments below)

Overall this is all in theory! I wanted to note the possibilities of how natal aspects to the Moon can manifest and if it doesn't resonate or if you don't struggle with the above statements that's okay. This post is more so for those who have emotionally struggled throughout their life, and for those who need to do some reflection and inner healing. As always the entire natal chart will always be a better dictator in how each placement can manifest! 💋

P.S This post is directly about the water moon influence, if you are curious about how these aspects/natal placements would manifest for individuals without having water placements let me know. 💌

[elbdot]

Besides Latias being your favorite legendary Pokémon, what would be your SECOND favorite legendary?

Heck, what's your top FIVE favorite legendary Pokémon?

Aww man. There's WAY too many at this point, even top five is hard to pick. ALRIGHT I'll try...

Latias

Ultra Necrozma

Tapu Koko

Yveltal

Koraidon

...that's a lot of red Legendaries.

Latias I don't need to further explain, but probably Ultra Necrozma. The reason why he's THAT high up my list is because Ultra Necrozma IS A G O D. Like LEGIT, this dragon made out of PURE LIGHT is the absolute PINACLE of a Legendary to me. My other picks may be more personal than him, but in terms of what makes a Legendary a LEGENDARY Pokemon to me, THIS would be it. Heck, I'd put him above ARCEUS, make those two FIGHT FOR THE TITLE OF ULTIMATE POKE-GOD oh wait they already did

Otherwise Tapu Koko would've easily made it on second place. He's my next pick for a multitude of reasons. I think Tapu Koko absolutely BEAMS with personality. I love the Tapus all very much, but Koko is definitely my favorite. And I appreciate these Legendaries in particular because of their cultural significance for Alola. I think Alola may be the only region where Legendary deitys are not only KNOWN to exist, but play an ACTIVE role in their lives, interacting with the locals, protecting the islands, choosing ambassadors in form of the Kahunas and getting honored by the people of Alola. They're just. INCREDIBLY COMPLEX AND FLESHED OUT AND I LOVE THEM

Yveltal is my only pure nostalgia-pick I have to admit. Aside from me LOVING BIRDS and Yveltal being a KILLER BACON BIRD he was also the very first Legendary I ever caught by playing Pokemon Y. I may not hold much nostalgia for that game otherwise, but Yveltal definitely holds a special place in my heart.

Koraidon I just think is funny as heck. He looks SO STUPID when he's running. He's a cute goofy lizard throughout the game until he reaches his full energized form in the end and when he takes that stand he's just an ABSOLUTE badass and I LOVE that. While there's many other legendaries I could give the fifth place to, I wanted to give my appreciation for modern legendaries, because I do like the trend of some of them being included more in a personal quest. Getting to bond with them throughout your journey makes them feel much more special than others.

goofy ass lizard

HONORABLE MENTIONS: I have to give a shout-out to Rayquaaza, Kyogre, Dialga and death-noodle Giratina for being my old favorites. Xerneas is also pretty cool, I do appreciate magic fairy deer. I still think Mega Rayquaaza is THE ultimate dragon because I'm basic like that. I see badass Lung-like dragon I go WAOWEEEEE

Lugia used to be my absolute favorite as a kid but I HATE the way they've been anmating him as a 3D Model, he looks as goofy and unmajestic as one can get, what have they DONE to my boy... Meanwhile Ho-oh is doing SPLENDID in 3D, it's not fair 😞 Also shout-out to Ho-oh for having the prettiest shiny of all the Legendaries. And Galarian Zapdos is a huge improvement from the original one, that one also goes into honorable mentions.

Thank you for coming to my TED-Talk.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but how has your opinion changed on Steven Universe now than when it first aired? Like I have fond memories of watching the show while it was airing but now I realize that it had a lot of problems that I feel like a lot of fans either flat out ignore or bend over backwards to make sure their rose tinted glasses stay on.

... okay, fair question. Let's talk about this.

I'll try not to wax poetic too long, but there are a lot of things to be said here.

First and foremost - how has my opinion changed since the show has ended?

Simply put - it hasn't.

When I started watching Steven Universe over 7 years ago, I didn't have much knowledge of it. I sat down, saw a few of episodes and went 'well, this is a silly show for kids with a goofy but loveable protagonist... but it seems like it's also incredibly charming with its delivery and has some nice, more complex themes about loss and healing and grief throughout.'

And if you ask me what Steven Universe is now... I would probably say that exact same thing.

Am I wearing rose tinted lenses? Interesting question.

What ARE 'rose tinted lenses' in this context anyway?

What do these lenses represent? What do they obscure?

Since you didn't go into specifics, I can only assume what you're referring to when you say that many fans ignore the show's problems.

There have been many discussions surrounding various aspects of the show and how it might be read as 'problematic' (ahhh how I've come to despise that word.... without context, it has all the descriptive power of the word 'icky' - none of the critical details and all of the emotional punch of scrunching up your face like a cat that just sniffed a lemon...)

Is this about something as simple as the 'SU doesn't have a consistent size for its characters' debate?

Because that has been gone back to, over and over again, and proven to be a point of opinion. SU favored allowing storyboarders to show off their personal flourish, and even though Peridot was 30% hair in that one episode, it did not overall take away from the plotline being told, which was their goal. If you wanted to watch a show with consistent styling throughout, you can always watch a 3D modeled show, but keeping that up was simply never one of SU's main pillars. And I feel like it didn't have to be.

Is this about something more complex such as the way Rose was presented?

...and how her arc was shown backwards instead of forwards - showing first the person she became in the end, and afterwards revealing all the growth she had to have to get there?

That was on purpose! And I don't think this is a problem. It's a feature, not a bug. Rose was never meant to be an ideal character - she was meant to be complicated and messy, and I think the fact that the fandom is so split in their opinions of her shows that the Crewniverse pulled that off really well!

She fucked over Bismuth! She forced Pearl to be silent! Those are both parts of her character arc that were never resolved because she died before she could resolve it - that's BY DESIGN. Sometimes, you just do something absolutely stupid and cruel, and you cannot go back to fix it.

Is this about the Diamonds? The fact that they were not put in space jail, after being put on trial for space crimes, and then publicly executed for space eco-genocide?

Here's the thing - most people I know who watched and loved SU are fully aware of that. But simply put - Steven Universe was not a story about Revenge.

Steven Universe was a story about love. A story about family. A story about truth, and lies, and hurt, and healing. About how sometimes healing doesn't happen. And how sometimes it will, but you won't be around to see it.

But it's not a story that can be all things for all people.

That is the thesis of my reply: It is a story.

It is not a manifesto. It is not a bible. It is not a Complete Truth.

It is a single story. Made by a group of very talented people, who cared about these characters, who did their best. They made a funny, emotional, well-drawn and complex cartoon show about the things THEY personally wanted to tell stories about.

Does it answer all questions the way everyone wants them answered? No. That's impossible.

Everyone wants a different story. Everyone wants a different solution, a different resolution. A different ending.

Steven Universe is one story. It cannot satisfy all people.

So when you ask me 'has your opinion of Steven Universe changed'? The answer is 'no'.

I went in, expecting to see a story. I saw a lot of what I liked! I saw some parts which I thought were interesting. I saw some parts which, yes, I disagreed with a little.

But overall, it's a good story. And that's what I expected, and that's what I got, which means I'm pretty satisfied. I love that story.

I feel like recently, there's this expectation of media, to be Everything For All People. And it's a bit unrealistic. No one call tell the perfect story. We are all simply telling the stories we want to tell. And people will vibe with that, more or less.

A single story, made by a small group of people, will never be that for you. There will never be an Unproblematic Cartoon that you watch that will be devoid of things you disagree with.

Being critical of media doesn't mean 'Criticize the FUCK outta that media, and the one with the least criticisms is the best one'.

Critical thinking is about evaluating things critically - that means being critical of YOURSELF. Being critical of your OWN reactions. Asking 'why did I like this?' and 'why did I dislike this?'. Asking 'this doesn't mesh with me, but who WOULD it mesh with? It isn't for me, but who is it for? Who would it hurt, but also who would it help?'

Some people HATED how SU: Future ended. They beat their fists on the wall and cried about how Steven was leaving his family behind, and how THEY could never imagine doing something like that, and how he was running away from his problems just like Rose had.

Me? I loved it. I think it was the right choice, and I COULD imagine it and thought it was in character. I thought he needed to be his own person, instead of shouldering everyone else's responsibilities for once. Was one of us more right than the other? Maybe not? Maybe that was the whole point?

Loving things is not about putting on rose colored glasses. Sometimes, choosing to love something with flaws is an act of rebellion. It's about knowing you have differences, but understanding that there is value in the things you DO agree on, and knowing you can consume that.

Healthy consumption of media does not mean throwing the whole cartoon away as soon as you notice something is wrong with it, like a bruise on an apple.

Healthy consumption of media involves critical thinking AND feeding yourself. Acknowledging you may disagree with parts of it, but not starving yourself just because your apples all have small imperfections.

Eat, for fuck's sake. Feed yourself. You'll feel better.

Thassit.

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - Strategy Game Date - English Translation (1/2)

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

"Wow, if you remember someone, they must be really impressive!"

"Not at all. In fact, on most of the days we've played, he couldn't even win a pack of biscuits."

"So, about the same level as me then~"

"But MC is special to me. Whether it's ‘biscuits', 'candy', or even 'unreasonable requests', you always manage to win them over in another way."

Translation under the cut!

[T/N: Before reading the date, I highly recommend you all to read this R&S: Regarding What Book Doesn't Say (and while at it read The Victim Who Disappeared too~). This date contains important references to that R&S, and I would like to analyze this date later in comparison with it at the end of this date🥺 There's also some reference to S1 chapter 23 but I'm gonna assume that y'all already read it u.u.]

If you want to follow along with the voice, you can follow it here.

-

[Call- On The Way Home from Work]

Lucien: I just saw your missed call, what's wrong?

MC: [worriedly] I was just wondering why Professor Lucien, who clearly got off work an hour ago, still hasn't come home yet.

Lucien: [chuckles softly]  Sorry, I was held up a bit by something.

Lucien: If you're not too busy, could you bring a trolley and come pick me up at the small park outside the complex?

MC: I certainly can, but what happened?

Lucien: I was stopped by that old gentleman who often plays chess in the park, and he invited me to play a game with him.

MC:  Hmm? Why did that grandpa suddenly "abandon" his friends and come to you?

Lucien: Today, his chess friend stood him up, so he was searching the whole park for a "destined" person who could play chess.

Lucien: And on my backpack, I happened to have a chess pendant that you gave me.

MC: Oh~ But the Xianqi (Chinese chess) Grandpa plays and international chess aren't the same type, right?

Lucien: There are indeed quite big differences between the two, but luckily, I'm not too unfamiliar with the rules of Xiangqi.

MC: Judging by Professor Lucien’s tone, it seems like he has won~

Lucien: It was a narrow victory.

Lucien: However... I'm having some regrets now.

MC: Why?

Lucien: Things seem to have gotten a little out of hand after I won the game. He enthusiastically invited me to solve an endgame puzzle—

[Trivia: In chess, endgame refers to a chess problem where only a few pieces remain on the board, and the challenge is to find the best moves to win or achieve a draw.]

Lucien: And after I solved it, I found out that this puzzle has apparently been around for a few years.

MC: Wow! That's amazing...! So, doesn't that mean the brilliant Professor Lucien is going to become a big celebrity in the park?

Lucien: [sighs] ...But they're a bit too enthusiastic.

Lucien: [he sounds so helpless and dumbfounded it's cute LOL] To celebrate, that grandpa and the elderly watching the game gave me all the eggs, rice, and cooking oil they got from the supermarket.

Lucien: I couldn't refuse at the moment, so now I'm stuck here, overwhelmed by this weighty goodwill.

MC:  Pfft, hahaha~ So that's why you asked me to bring a trolley and rescue you!

MC: I think I see you! Hmm? Are you buying something?

Lucien: [chuckles] Mm, I just found a flower vending machine here.

Lucien: After all, I did ask my girlfriend to come rescue me, so I figured I should at least buy a bouquet of flowers as a thank you.

[Prologue-Surprise Journey]

MC: You're going to compete against the world champion of 3D chess next week?!

When I arrive home from work and step into the entryway, the news hits me like a brick, leaving me frozen in place.

[Trivia: 3D Chess is a variant of traditional chess that adds a third dimension with multiple horizontal layers. It's different and more complex compared with classic 2D chess because besides being able to move horizontally, it can also move vertically between layers, and naturally, it has different rules compared to the classic (I tried to search the rules of one type of 3D chess and ended up being confused at it HAHA). Most ppl def can't easily learn it in one try unless you're Xu Mo]

Lucien calmly takes my bag and nods slightly.

Lucien: Mm, the tournament organizers invited Carl to play a simultaneous exhibition.

[Trivia: In chess simultaneous exhibition means one player plays against multiple opponents at the same time]

Lucien: Besides me, there will also be many 3D chess players and enthusiasts participating.

MC: ...Wait a minute, Lucien, you haven't been scammed, have you?

MC: There are a lot of scams going around these days that seem to trick people with things like registration fees.

[gurl why would you think that the great and mighty™️ Professor Lucien would get scammed🤣]

Lucien: That possibility certainly can't be ruled out, but I've already confirmed it.

Lucien can't help but chuckle a bit and opens the official website of the International Chess Federation.

Following the movement of his fingertips, I quickly found Lucien's name on the shortlist.

MC: So awesome…

MC: You've obviously only been playing 3D chess for a month, yet you're already able to participate in such a competition.

Lucien: This type of game is actually not that difficult once you grasp the rules.

MC: ...That's precisely something a genius would say.

He winks a little smugly, smiles, and pulls me into his arms.

Lucien: So, would MC like to go together?

Lucien: I recall you don't seem to be very busy next week.

MC: Of course, I would like to!

MC: This is your first time participating in a chess tournament, so I wouldn't want to miss it.

Lucien: That's good to hear. Otherwise, I might have to repack my suitcase.

Following his gaze, I notice he's already packed some of my clothes in the suitcase and I can't help but laugh.

MC: You already knew I'd say yes.

Lucien: Mm, after all, it seems like MC can never bring herself to turn down my requests.

[Date]

=[Part 1]=

MC: The guesthouse you chose is so beautiful!

I lean out from the villa window and look outside; the warm breeze passes through the tropical orange trees, stirring sweet orange-scented ripples on the clear pool water.

MC: This garden is exactly like a scene from an American movie, I feel like a pool party is about to start any second now.

Lucien: [chuckles] After I finish my competition, we might as well have a pool party here too.

MC: Sounds good! Then I…

I spin around excitedly, but then my gaze is suddenly caught by a vibrant blaze of crimson, making me fall silent.

Lucien is dressed in a cherry-red suit paired with an olive-green tie, giving off a bold retro vibe.

Complementing this look, a sleek leather belt with a ring buckle and a tilted round hat adds a touch of simplicity and style.

Lucien: [teasingly] If you keep looking at me like that, I might actually get a little shy.

Despite saying so, he doesn't shy away and instead approaches me with a smile.

MC: It's just so stunning... Did this Great Chess Player pick this outfit specifically for the competition?

Lucien: There will be a lot of people at the competition, so maybe this will help me better attract the attention of a certain little lady.

[T/N: Great Chess Player (大棋手 - dà qíshǒu) is how MC teasingly and admiringly refers to him while little lady (小姑娘 - xiǎo gūniang) is Lucien's special term of endearment to MC. So yes, he's the one picking the outfit to attract her attention, just like male peacocks displaying their feather🤣 Please don't be harsh on his color choice because he literally can't see them🥲]

MC: [pouts] Humph, I want to protest~

MC: Even without any help, I can still instantly spot you in a crowd!

Lucien: [chuckles] Of course, I believe that. But I also have a selfish motive.

He gently pinches my puffed-out cheeks and meets my gaze with a smile.

Lucien: [gently and sincerely] Just thinking about you watching me throughout the competition... it'll likely fill me with strength.

✂———————–

In the vast venue, a hundred chess players are seated at their tables, eagerly awaiting the arrival of Carl, the world champion.

The audience seats are already packed with hundreds of spectators, and the broadcasting equipment, along with the commentators, is set up and ready to go.

Feeling the solemn atmosphere, I shrink back a little and quickly walk over to the family seating area within the venue to sit down.

Host: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the International 3D Chess Championship!

Host: Here today, we have chess elites gathered from all around the globe.

Host: They have emerged from fierce preliminary rounds and will face Carl, the champion of the International 3D Chess Championship, in a head-to-head battle.

Just then, on the large screen suspended above the venue, a refined-looking man is waving and greeting the crowd below.

Host: Following the classic tournament rules, each player will have 120 minutes to make their first 40 moves, after which they will have another 60 minutes to complete the rest of the game.

Host: To ensure fairness and smooth progression, a team of referees will supervise the entire match.

Host: Please remain quiet during the match so that the players can concentrate.

Host: We hope you all enjoy this feast of intellect and strategy!

As the match bell rings, the first game appears on the big screen.

Carl opens with a knight's jump, using the black pieces. Time flows in silence for a long while before his opponent finally makes their move.

Just as the unfamiliar and complex cross-layer moves are starting to make my head spin, the game reaches Lucien's table.

Facing Carl's aggressive opening, Lucien doesn't panic. Calm and collected, he establishes his defensive formation.

I quietly note the position of his piece, trying to summon the knowledge I learned from playing classic chess with him in an effort to keep up with the game.

However, as the game progresses, I quickly become lost amidst the complexity of the situation.

Thankfully, that splash of cherry-red color always manages to blur out the world, allowing me to clearly see him every time I look up.

While waiting for his turn, Lucien leans back and intently watches the live screen, unlike the others who are engrossed in studying their own games.

[This passage implies that, unlike other players who are focused solely on their own games, Lucien is observing the matches on the live screen to study the world champion's strategies and gameplay. Also, this passage is an interesting parallel with how Lucien sees the world - to him, her color blurred the world around her, allowing him to see her clearly🥺]

Yet whenever it's his turn to make a move, he does it extremely quickly.

After a few rounds, players on the field are gradually eliminated and leave, but Lucien remains seated, his remaining time nearly equal to Carl's.

Most of the time, his expression remains calm, only occasionally does his brow and eyes curve slightly as if he's noticed some clever moves.

Even though he's far away, I feel like I can see that fascinating and captivating world through his eyes.

I gaze for a long time, so long that I only snap back to reality when Carl sits down opposite Lucien.

The stage is empty, and before I realize it, only that red figure remains.

The black and white sides are locked in a tense struggle, like a small battlefield. Pieces fell constantly, yet new attacks were relentlessly launched.

A hushed silence gradually spreads over the audience. Finally, the timer goes off, and the referee, who has been observing from the sidelines, rises to his feet.

He takes a step forward, waiting for Lucien to put down the piece in his hand, pick up a pen and write something, then seal the paper in an envelope.

As if on cue, the people around me rustle and leave. I instinctively get up as well, feeling puzzled, and head towards Lucien, who is also departing.

MC: Is the match over?

Lucien: Not yet, it's just that the official match time is up. Now the moves are sealed, and the match will resume in an hour.

MC: I see. So, what do you think?

Lucien: Although the situation is a bit tense right now, I've more or less deduced the strategy he'll likely use.

He narrows his eyes, looking like a smug little fox.

MC: Wow, I knew you were good, but I'm blown away that you've been able to hold your own against the world champion for so long…

Lucien: Would you mind holding onto that compliment until the 26th move and telling me again later, MC?

MC: Um?

I suddenly figured something out, and in that instant, I found the answer in those confident eyes.

Lucien: By then, I'll have won.

=[Part 2]=

Lucien wins.

At the 21st move in overtime, Carl topples his cornered king piece and concedes defeat.

It's not that I never thought he would win, but seeing Lucien standing on the podium, the clear reality of his victory washes over me along with the tide of applause.

I clap with extra force, wanting to convey all my heartfelt congratulations to him.

MC: Congratulations, grand champion!

As the award ceremony ends, after waiting by the side of the stage, I step forward and greet the person before me with a big hug.

An icy chill clings to him, yet the voice that falls upon my ear is incredibly gentle.

Lucien: [chuckles] I received all of MC's congratulations.

Lucien: Even though you were a bit far away, the way you clapped so enthusiastically was especially adorable, just like a little seal.

MC: Of course! As your girlfriend, I can't let myself be outdone by anyone else…

??: Mr. Lucien, congratulations.

A stranger's voice suddenly interrupts the conversation as Carl, dressed in a suit, walks over in surprise.

Carl: I'll always remember this match, I hope to see you again on the competition stage someday.

Lucien: Thank you, there will be a chance.

Lucien nods politely, and only after watching the other person disappear into the crowd does he speak, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Lucien: Was that Carl?

MC: Hmm? Even a superbrain like you can have face blindness?

Lucien: Perhaps I was too focused on the chessboard, so I didn't pay attention to his appearance.

Lucien: Besides, his clothes seem completely different from what he wore this afternoon.

Seeing him explain earnestly, I can't help but laugh.

MC: [laughs] If I were Carl, I think I would be more hurt that my opponent, whom I faced for half a day, doesn’t remember me than about losing the match.

MC: Speaking of which, you don't forget everyone you've played chess with, do you?

Lucien: [stunned as if hit by a memory of someone from his distant past] …

It’s as if something leaps into the depths of those dark eyes along with my words, and they suddenly blink quickly.

Lucien: Not quite everyone.

MC: Wow, if you remember someone, they must be really impressive!

Lucien: Not at all.

Lucien: In fact, on most of the days we've played, he couldn't even win a pack of biscuits.*

MC: So, about the same level as me then~

I can't help but curve my lips into a smile, and it seems as though my rising smile also slowly melts that touch of indifference.

Lucien: [chuckles] You're right, it's about the same level. But MC is special to me.

Lucien: Whether it's ‘biscuits', 'candy', or even 'unreasonable requests', you always manage to win them over in another way.

MC: [laughs happily] Hahaha, that friend of yours would probably think you're way too biased if he heard you say that!

Lucien smiles faintly as if my words allow him to vaguely picture that person before his eyes—

Fuzzy... distant... yet somehow a little vivid.

Lucien: Perhaps, but all of those are just assumptions.

MC: Even if they are assumptions, aren't they still based on deductions from the past?

I hook my finger around his, gently swaying our hands together.

MC: Even if the past may be gone, isn't there still “something” from it that continues to run through your life in different forms;

MC: Accompanying you as you pass by and meet many amazing, yet lovely and warm people?~

Lucien: Of course, I have never denied that.

It was as though an imperceptible wound within those profound eyes had been quietly mended, allowing a trace of a smile to escape.**

Wanting to keep that smile lingering for a while longer, I wrinkle my nose.

MC: But... I've clearly played chess with you too, and several different kinds! Yet the first person Professor Lucien thought of wasn't me!

Lucien: …

Seeing his eyes widen slightly, I smile with satisfaction.

MC: Hmph, looks like I need to work harder! In that case, I'll start by learning 3D chess!

I take the prize chessboard from Lucien's hands, giving it a gentle shake.

MC: Please teach me, Teacher Lucien.

✂———————–

[T/N]

*: the biscuits!!! I'm sobbing ;-;, turns out Lucien still remembers Fan Zihang/Zack so clearly... I hope we'll get another mention of Fan Zihang/Zack on his birthday too huhu.

**: I'm taking liberties in translating this one 😂. The original line is “那双幽深的眼瞳里似有道小小裂隙被悄悄填上,终于泄 出一点笑意。” which if literally translated it will be “In that pair of deep and dark eyes, it was as if a small crack had been quietly filled up, finally revealing a hint of a smile.”. The 'crack' can symbolize an unhealed wound from the past. As it gradually fills, this wound is slowly mending, allowing him to release some of his past burdens and letting a hint of joy show through his eyes. Or, you can also think of it as a frozen lake that slowly melts and reveals a small crack, allowing the sunlight to fill in and showing what's in the water all this time (there's happiness from those past memories too).

Next: Part 3 & 4-> [Here]

[shewreckz]

Hey your art is pretty whimsical and radical my gender non specific broseph, per chance would thou be able to enlighten us on how you draw such bodacious fine art? Like how you draw bodies and fave and what have thee. (Fr tho your art really cool and I'd like to see how you make it)

okay i have whipped up a quick little visual of my thought process while drawing!! it might not be the best cause im not the greatest at teaching but if anyones curious ^_^

first lets start with how i draw bodies

a lot of people like to do the "skeleton" method which is where you draw lines and circles to plan out where the limbs should be. honestly i really dislike doing that because i like to always have volume and shape in mind when drawing bodies, but if it works for you thats great.

instead i separate the body into different pieces, kinda like an articulated doll. i think it helps visualize all the moving parts in a 3d space and makes posing and perspective a lot easier. i can also always add the detailed anatomy on top of this basic model like you see on the left. its always important to work from simple -> complex. drawing a pose while being too worried on anatomy will really hinder your drawing process.

to improve doing this it really just takes practice and observation. i could be here all day talking about proportions, and how many heads high a person is, and each specific muscle group, but i reccomend you go and watch videos and study professional artists on your own. as someone who has been drawing and studying these things for so long, i barely think about how many heads high a person is when im drawing a body. its kind of like learning how to play and instrument or driving a car. it becomes second nature eventually, but you have to apply those skills and work through that period of time where youre still trying to program it into your brain.

after you get a hang of the basics you can take this basic model and draw all types of body shapes with it. i say its always important to play around with making your body types diverse. its not only fun to do but helps make all the characters you draw unique and recognizable. (dont be like vivziepop).

dynamic posing can be the hardest thing to master for a lot of people. the best way to learn how to pose is to not think about it too much and just doing it. for example in my figure drawing class we had to sketch out gesture drawings from a picture in 15 seconds. excercises like that help a ton in making you feel more comfortable when drawing from a reference. you should definitely reference a LOT when it comes to poses, it helps build this visual database so that eventually you can get to the point where you can just draw accurate and dynamic poses from memory. after getting to this point eventually you kind of start thinking of your canvas as this tangible 3d space and considering your characters in 3d space helps make the poses feel a lot more realistic and interesting.

ok now a quick little tour into how i draw different faces yaaaayy!!!1!1!1

main thing with my art is that i LOVEEE drawing dynamic face shapes i think its so important to avoid drawing the same slim faces over and over. shape language plays a big role into this. like for example the face on the middle is more square, the one on the left is more oval and the one on the right is more circle. shape language helps communicate so much about your character without even saying a word about them and just helps differentiate people from a glance.

facial features also play a huge role into making your faces different. these are all drawn from the same exact face shape but look like entirely different characters by adding variety in the features. different noses, eye shapes, lips, etc. can make such a huge difference

i think before any of that its important to learn the anatomy of the face though. again im not gonna go into how many eyes wide a face it or how far the nose is from the mouth but like its always important to learn the fundamentals before stylizing stuff. again the face is a 3d space and if you dont consider your face a 3d plane the features will kind of just look like theyre floating on your characters face like soup...theres a lot of great resources and tutorials online take advantage of those!!! and reference from artists you like too it helps a ton.

and then you mix that all together and Boom you have cool and interesting faces. you will best that same face syndrome in no time if you take my advice Trust...

anyways yeah thats the soda design philosophy hit that like button if you liked it or douse me with tomatoes and kick me off the stage if you think i give bad advice ill leave the decision up to you

[lavaablast]

My headcanons pt1 (because i self project on everything)

(my opinion remember this is all silly fun) (also i change my mind contantly so expect me to edit this post constantly)

Kai Smith:

the band aid on his eyebrow is there because he has an eyebrow piercing, and he wants to protect it from getting ripped in battle (also doesnt want a scolding from Wu hehe)

self harms but instead of c///ing he burns because well, obvious reasons (less likely to be found out too)

orthorexic, is obsessed with being in peak physical form

hear me out on this one, i know he eats junkfood (so do orthorexics okay every 3d is diferent) anyway he never does it alone. he eats junkood only with other people, and he's always thinking he'll "make up for it" later. so yes he eats junkfood and yes he is orthorexic (felt like i had to defend my point there dsfsd)

body dysmorphia. knows he looks good but doesnt know what he looks like

"if i gave up on being pretty, i wouldn't know how to be alive" or wtv mitski said

has an extensive skincare routine but if anyone asks him he'll just say he "washes his face with cold water"

anger issues, but like he can explode on the ninja too and then he immediately regrets it but its too late which leaves him with... ->

guilt. ALL THE TIME. its in the back of his head wherever he goes

sun aries, moon sagittarius. i wont back down on this (im a sun aries and moon sag)

claims he "doesnt care" but actually cares so much it hurts (especially about Nya/Lloyd he'd do anything for them you hear me ANYTHING)

has strong morals and ideals but will give them up in a second when needed for survival of himself or the ninja (people often see this as a bad thing but he just wants everyone to live no matter the cost)

ironically, can't handle spicy food and is ALWAYS made fun of it by the others

is reckless and takes stupid risks because he does not care for his body whatsoever (the others think he doesnt know whats at stake, he does, but doesnt care when it's just his own saftey he's risking)

lowkey a perfectionist, but has a different idea of perfect than others so they wouldnt know (aka he needs things/himself/stuff he makes to be perfect, but not perfect objectively, perfect to what he thinks is right)

loves his parents because they tried their best, but still resents them. he hates that he does, but he does

cried all of his tears out ONCE after Nyas "death" and didnt cry at all after that, instead taking so much on his plate that he didnt get a single chance to think about it again (it'd be too painul, this was easier) which lead to....->

his grief being put on hold; and only when Nya already was back did it come out and he had no idea why he was feeling this way so he didnt tell anyone (what would he have said, im in agony for no reason at all?) and it was HELL to do it alone

tied to the above; he couldn't ask for help if his life depended on it (literally)

loves too hard

hates too hard

BPD coded (i dont wanna diagnose him but,,, im justsayinnn *whistles while walking away suspiciously*)

trust issues, but lowk all the ninja have them because like,,, just look at what they have to deal w bro

commitment issues because freedom is the most important thing in the world (after Nya/Lloyd) so settling down or commiting to one thing too long feels like threatining his freedom

actually smart (both emotinally and intelligently) but doesnt use his brains capabilities that much

great memory but also shit memory (remembers a whole row of numbers for no reason but forgets he has to pick up lloyd from the arcade..)

hot. thats all i rest my case

loves himself but hates himself

everything and nothing at the same time, everything about him contradicts himself, but also doesnt, but also does

hes a really simple person, really. but also the most complex one youll ever meet.

hates labels, especially being labeled by others (for the reasons above)

likes men but hates labels so,, no labels (not even the label "unlabeled")

infact he has a deep hatred for the label 'unlabeled' because if something is unlabeled, then why are you LABELING IT

red. everything is red redredred RED he loves red

has sibling bracelets with nya and lloyd (kai has green & dark blue, lloyd red & dark blue, nya red and green)

everything has to be red except the things that are black and orange. i rest my case once again

drinks just a bit too much for it to be considered concerning (started at 14)

will yell and scream at anyone who tries to help him (why do they think he needs help? why are they babying him? why cant the see he is capable?)

wouldnt let nya touch a bottle until she was 18 (be thankful nya its for the best)

paints his nails black or red.

has a strand of hair dyed red all the time

perfect teeth even tho he often forgets to brush them (how? fuck do i know)

would be a hyena i he was an animal

hates smartphones so he has a.. push-button phone?? whatever they're called. and he also only has the nokia brand. wont change it for a thing

"hates technology" but couldnt live without video games

loves to try new things but will have a breakdown if he HAS to try new things

stubborn asf, wont ever do anything he doesnt want to, which...->

makes people think he's selfish, but actually he's quite the opposite

selfless in an unconventional way, i'll make a drawing explaining it

please understand what i mean with that chart because it explains it so well in my brain

thats it for now cfdsfdr

[bosskie]

Tense Dinner

Man, I feel like it's finally time to fart this out, after 3 weeks of working on this. I know that there are still some stuff I could improve, but I don't feel like it, and my current skills aren't enough... But at least I could produce something more proper after a long time... I don't know but this took like 20+ hours, or even 30+ hours... This was a good practice work too since I rarely draw/paint this complex stuff, and I'm still learning how to understand lights and shadows... But I guess that this looks okay.

But what the odd is this thing? Welp, I have said earlier that I have felt like trying out drawing some Oddworld characters I have never drawn before, but I only feel like drawing Molluck stuff, so... I just had to figure out in what kind of situation those characters could be with Molluck. I have never drawn Alf or Toby before, and I felt like drawing them but had no idea how. Then I did remember one comment on OWI's Instagram post where they asked with whom you would like to have a dinner or something. That one commenter said that they would like to have a dinner with Abe, Alf, Toby, and Molluck because they would like to have a tense dinner. So, that comment was my inspiration.

I thought with the sitting order that Molluck wants to keep his eyes on Abe, but he also sits so that he can see all the Muds. Abe wouldn't have wanted to sit next to Molluck, none of them really, but it suited Alf the best. Though, it's probably not better to sit in front of Molluck's vicious gaze either... The story is that they are trying to work together, and well, they are trying their best to make it as comfortable as possible, especially when Molluck has lost his certain power... Molluck doesn't really trust Abe, though he is paranoid anyway, so he has that chant suppressor to secure himself. The Chauffeur is bringing them some food, and it's up to your imagination what's that. But I assure that Molluck is trying his best to be nice! There are also some other thoughts and details, but I let you figure out the rest.

I don't know if I should write more or not, but well, this is my blog. While doing this thing, I just felt like I should quit art after this piece is done. I'm just so tired of seeing only flaws in my works, having inferiority complex moments... But quitting wouldn't fix the root issue. I still haven't felt like thinking about what to draw next like I normally do. I just feel like I don't feel like drawing... So, I probably need to have a break since I cannot force art. But I also have other stuff to do, and I also wanna get back to 3D stuff... So yeah, I just don't know about drawing/painting right now... I'm feeling alright, but also depressed right now...

But I do actively follow what's going on with Oddworld stuff, even quite stealthily. And I feel like I gotta say that it has been amusing for me to see Molluck x Abe stuff since I literally said some months ago that I'm surprised at how little there is that stuff, when one anon requested me to draw them kissing... "Be careful what you wish for --, or your wish will come true." (Y) (This is a quotation from one game...) Frankly, I gotta admit that this is my fave Oddworld ship; I like it more than Molluck x Chauffeur Slig thing. Though, I would depict it in a different way, but I love Molluck being nasty. (Y) I have no personal interest in doing ship content myself but rarely since I'm busy with shipping myself with Molluck... But ain't that ship content then too? Well, you got my point still.

I'm always into seeing how Molluck is seen since I see that my way to see him is different from the usual depiction, but this mainly relates to certain depth and sides I see him having. But I also gotta say that for me, Glukkons are asexual. Though, I tend to forget whole sexual side whenever I think about people in general, since I personally prefer asexual world. Sexual desires only feel like some primitive needs/necessities I would prefer not to have, but since Molluck is still the only one I desire that way, I wanna it really be about making love since I wanna give some love to his beautiful body. And yeah, since Glukkon have no reproduction organs, for me it means that he doesn't have anything down there (but some hole to urinate) since it's what makes sense the most for me. But frankly, it's also how I prefer him, since of course, you can imagine that stuff however you like but I prefer none, and it doesn't prevent having sex with him, or him enjoying it... I can confess that I do have created (and keep creating) plenty of "that material" for myself, thanks to my 3D Molluck sculpt... It was my main reason to even create it, but I gotta create a 3D model out of it to create even better stuff! I will also create general Molluck stuff with that, so I can share something too... I have just no desire to share sexual content since it's like letting people come to my bedroom which is private. But it's probably easy to understand what's Molluck's role if he got none... It's all you need to know if you wanna know answer to this usual gay pair question. I have never seen Molluck in this role in other people's stuff, but it's just how I prefer him, his "joy holes"... (I also think that this depends on the relationship dynamics, since I feel quite equal with him.) Man, that Gluk just makes me go crazy... I want that Gluk so badly every single day... But yeah, I only would feel like posting some suggestive naked Mollucks, but nothing more, at least it's what I think now. I draw that stuff quite rarely actually, but I bet that my 3D stuff affects that... Would still love to draw more stuff to appreciate Molluck's beauty...

Yeah, I cannot help that I love Molluck so much... Even when Molluck is being his nasty self, I'm like "I love Molluck! 💓"... I love my little big butcher, professional bastard... It's probably because I do enjoy stuff like that, like dark humour, and my imagination likes to give Molluck some "good" ideas... I believe that Molluck and me could get along well and have such a loving relationship, since I do believe in that Molluck is able to genuinely love and care, but it's hidden unless he finds "the right one" who loves him just as he is. So, I see that Molluck's personality ain't all about being an angry nasty bastard, who just likes to use others, but he can also be caring and loving. It's just how Soulstorm made me see him; he feels like a friendly Gluk to me. But yeah, like I have said, I did start to love Molluck because I saw myself in him, so I bet that I also give parts of my personality to make his personality more complete. I cannot help it but I feel like saying that he is so adorable... Yeah, try to see Molluck as scary, intimidating, and sinister when it's more like hot to me... But I trust that Molluck do not wanna hurt me, like I do not wanna hurt him either.

Yeah, I didn't really have much to say... I can just keep talking about Molluck, how much I love him, and so on... I send him hugs 'n' kisses every day! It's really Molluck who keeps me creating stuff since it feels like my depression is getting worse in a way that I keep losing my interest in stuff... I just cannot get enough of that Gluk... He feels so right... He is like me as a Glukkon... I mean, I even see myself in some Molluck memes people do... It came to my mind to wonder like over a week ago if Molluck bites his cheeks or lips by accident since it's what happens to me, thanks to my own "loose" cheeks... I love Molluck's loose cheeks and his whole head's physics. (Y) Though yeah, I could list so many thing I love about Molluck...

Molluck! 💞 I really don't know what else to say... This Gluk is just so important to me. But I also don't know about drawing for a while... I just have no inspiration... But yeah, I always feel like appreciating Molluck's beauty, so if nothing else can bring it back, then it's probably what could end this art block.

[pixiebombblog]

Dev Diary #1 (Oct 27, 2024) - It All Starts Here!

Hi! I'm Pixie, and I am currently in active development on a new large-scale, fully voice-acted & immersive Skyrim follower mod named Seraph!

I've decided to start up a regular Developer Diary (You Are Here) to share progress & roadmap the release as she gets further along! Also if you haven't already, join the Discord (link after the jump) to stay updated & involved or just to say hi 🩷

Here's some early development highlights so far:

✨️ For Seraph's custom follower framework, I've built a new & improved core framework that is much more effective, elegant, & efficient than the framework most follower mod authors start with, & one of the benefits of this is that it's much harder for external problematic mods like AFT to break her brain!

✨️ Seraph's character and story has been deeply developed already, & her personal quests will be expansive! Her main personal questline is currently planned to play out in four acts/chapters, with an optional fifth chapter for...

✨️ Romance 💖 Seraph will be romanceable (& marriageable) for certain types of player characters! Without saying anything spoiler-y, Seraph's romance is not frivolous, exploitative, or lazy (as is often the case with romance options in many mods out there), it is an important narrative aspect of her character, and adds to a story that plays out over the course of your adventures together. Romance is not the main focus of the mod, & is completely optional, though just as much time & care is being put into it as any other part of the mod.

✨️ Seraph has a complex Approval system that feels much like the companion approval in Baldur's Gate 3, which has already been built & implemented. Your choices will matter, what you say and do will affect your relationship & things can turn out very differently based on dialogue chosen, playstyle choices, and more.

✨️ Seraph is feature-rich, and full of customizable toggles, options, and mechanics that range from functional and helpful to ones that just make her feel alive and fully fleshed out as a character. She can spar with you, have discussions on books and lore topics, bail you out of prison (with potential Approval ramifications!), won't call you the Dragonborn if you don't want her to, and a lot more. She also has all of the customary bells & whistles like follow distance controls, lore-friendly summon ability, relax/sandbox behavior options, etc. Many of these features are already built & implemented, or in various stages of that process.

✨️ I've also been working closely with my fantastic 3D artist @legendaryfirewizard (the artist who created Redcap's custom helmet model & several of Xelzaz's custom models) on a visual centerpiece that I don't want to spoil just yet, but that is central to Seraph's story & makes her very unique from any other follower mod.

There's so much more I'm excited to share, but without spoiling too many of the character & backstory details juuuust yet, I hope this first Dev Diary can give a small idea of what I'm hoping to achieve with this follower.

I've learned so much over the past few years of creating mods, and I've grown so much as a creator and a person in that time. Seraph is my love letter to creating, to character writing, to fantasy and RPG's, and to The Elder Scrolls which starting with Morrowind inspired me to imagine characters and stories within the world of Tamriel and beyond.

If you've read this far, I hope you'll give Seraph a download when the eventual release happens. In the meantime, feel free to join the Discord - to keep up to date with the project as it progresses!

- Pixie 💖

(Mod author, Voice Actress)