You Like ARK More Than You Like Drawing And Other Stuff Please Get Off It Once In A While. :)

A random thought I had while outside that people probably won’t care about

I look up to the sky, I see birds and a plane

The sky is pretty and it has many beautiful things 

The birds are pretty as they fly high in the sky

So clueless about everything around them just flying

Oh, that cloud looks pretty the sky looks pretty in general

I continue to lay there watching the sky, the plane passes by

And the birds are still flying up high

Thank you for reading :)

June 13

Hello it is morning for me so now lovely reminder!

You are loved and valid and I support you for who you are.

How many of these people were there in your class or did you have all this classmates?

V i d e o  B y  : Mrs. Woolley in 5th (on Youtube)

Also @scape-esque in the shy one the book their reading is Wings of Fire Book 1: Graphic Novel, Correct?

favorite Aventurine x reader so far

˚☽˚｡- AN AMPLE WAGER

Aventurine isn't one to express how he feels, but he finds himself longing and desperate when he decides to neglect IPC protocol and go on a mission alone. It's astounding what just one game of Black Jack can do.

OR

Revelations occur when you save Aventurine, and he saves you.

wc - 4.7k

Warnings - Blood, Gore, Slightly Nsfw

“What beautiful eyes.”

That’s the first sentence you ever said to Aventurine. 

Although he had just been promoted to manager of the Senior Investment Department, the IPC still considered him new. Becoming a manager meant meeting fellow managers of other departments for the first time. 

It meant meeting you, a Senior Manager of the Marketing Development Department. So he stayed over in the meeting room to introduce himself to you while others packed their stuff and fled. But you beat him to the punch. 

It was the first compliment he had received about his eyes. Others had thought them to be “unsettling” or even “bird-like.” Your words had shattered his snarky persona, and his eyebrows raised. Before he could even answer, you followed up your compliment with a question. 

“You walk around like that?” You ask, your hands grasping at papers on the meeting room table. 

Aventurine’s brow quirks, his mind puzzled by your words as he stands in front of your desk. 

You laugh, entertained by his confusion. “With your eyes for everyone to see?” 

He doesn’t respond; instead, his eyes travel over you as you walk closer to him. Your hand sneaks to his shoulder, and when your lips get closer to his ear you whisper, “Be careful now. Such pretty eyes would go for a hefty price if the right person found them.”

You pull your business card out of your blouse pocket. “They’re a privilege to look at as well.” You smile, holding the card in front of him. He takes it hesitantly. 

Aventurine watches as you walk towards the office door, seemingly having somewhere to be. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” you say. “Oh, and congrats on the promotion,” you wink. Then the sound of your heels click and clack down the hallway and Aventurine stares at your business card, twirling it between his fingers. 

The next time he sees you, he wears shades 

However, he makes sure to take them off when speaking to you—wanting to give you the privilege. 

At times, Aventurine thinks that there is no other place that he belongs more in than the IPC. 

Being a Manager for the Strategic Investment Department gives him opportunities like no other. Although his job was to spot depleting planets that had the potential for profit, the IPC gives Aventurine plenty of more ways to invest his time. 

Like investing in people. 

And, oh, what a great investment you were. 

He learns so much by your side. He learns what other managers to avoid in different departments. He learns how to navigate the brash personality of Diamond. He learns how to use his tongue more efficiently to get what he wants. 

Like when you kiss. 

When you touch.

When you fuck. 

It’s been different doing all those things with you. It’s never forced when it comes to you. It’s never a transaction like how it was before he came to the IPC. Oh, he learns a great deal, but it leaves him scared of the difference. He wants to kiss you. He wants to touch you. He doesn’t just want to fuck you, but he wants to make love with you. And this scares him greatly. 

But he’ll never admit those things out loud. He barely admits it to himself inside his head when his arms are wrapped around you in the middle of the night, and his thoughts begin to run in the back of his mind. Aventurine is able to adapt quickly. It just seems your gentle affection he can’t comprehend

Aventurine had gotten comfortable. 

He was too used to his position of power at the IPC. It made him forget that he was but an endangered species to everyone looking in. 

“Beautiful eyes,” the man says to him as he closes in on Aventurine, too close for comfort.  Raga was his name. His frame was built and bulky, along with the accomplice that sat on the other side of the room. Aventurine doesn’t remember his name due to the twist of dread that fills his stomach at Raga’s words. 

The compliment doesn’t sound much like one to Aventurine’s ears. He cringes in disgust at it instead of feeling the excitement when you had given him the very same compliment all those years ago. 

“Heh, why thank you, Sir. ”He reaches for his shades in his coat pocket and takes a step backward, trying to regain his personal space. 

“They’re a privilege to look at…” 

He hears your voice ring in his ears like a reminder. A privilege—he reassures himself. A privilege that the man in front of him is undeserving of. 

He flicks out his sunglasses. But as his shades reach towards his eyes, Raga grabs his wrist. Aventurine’s eyes dart upward to meet the man’s. 

“Tryna hide them from me?” 

The blond smiles sweetly, yanking his wrist out of Raga’s grasp in the process. “Such pretty eyes come with a downside, Sir.” He puts on his glasses, making sure they're snug on his face. “They’re quite sensitive.” He lies. One of the perks of being the sole survivor of an extinct race was that there was no one to fact-check him. 

“Only eyes like those can belong to a Sigonian.” Aventurine’s head snaps to the man sitting down in the chair. “And working for the IPC too?”

The bulky man looks back at Aventurine. “Well, color me impressed! A Sigonian this far from home?” He lets out a booming chuckle that causes him to almost wheeze. “Well, I guess you ain’t got none, do ya?” 

The man slaps Aventurine on his back. “I thought all y’all were all dead.” 

Aventurine forces a laugh. “Well, you get to see a miracle today, don’t you.” He'd rather not go into detail about his home, so he just continues to plaster a grin on his face.  

The man walks closer—cornering Aventurine once again. “Those eyes of yours sure are a miracle, too, huh? 

Aventurine can only glare up at the man. 

“Hey, Chidi!” The man calls. So that was his name? “How much does a Sigonian eye go for ya think?”

Aventurine’s gaze doesn’t leave the man that leers down at him when the other answers. “Not sure…but maybe we can continue our negotiation if we find out.” 

The bulky one grins. “How’s that sound?” 

“You’ve never played Russian Roulette?” There’s genuine confusion on your face when you ask. But Aventurine can’t help but eye the backside of your naked body as you try to meticulously fix your sex-ridden hair in the mirror. 

You pull out one of Aventurine’s shirts and put it on. 

“We can’t have an IPC strategist losing his bets,” you say as you sift through your clothes. “Here, let me show you.” 

The next thing he sees is your revolver in your hand. You fling out the cylinder and empty all the bullets in your hand. 

He remembers only looking at your glossy and bruised lips as your painted fingers slowly put a round into the gun. 

You give it a spin and fling the cylinder back in place with one hand as you creep onto the soft comforter of Aventurine’s bed. He can’t help but watch as you get closer and closer to him with a smirk of mischief that only The Elation would be proud of. 

Your hands grab his’ as you put the gun in his hand. Your fingers are soft—welcoming as you guide the weapon to your heart. The barrel touches your chest and Aventurine notices the small movement of your breast. 

You smile and lean towards him. His facial expression stays unwavering, but his eyes intrigued as they meet yours. 

“One in six,” you say. “A one in six chance that you’ll shed blood, take a life, end a path.” Your free hand snakes to Aventurine’s thigh, your thumb leaving soothing circles on his skin. His head tilts back ever so slightly, and he smiles. “That’s what this game is.” 

Your fingers guide his thumb to the hammer, pulling it down.

“Wanna take the chance?” You question—tilting your head. 

What a game this was. Aventurine jerks the gun from your grasp, taking the bullet out of the barrel. He chuckles breathlessly. “And here I thought you weren’t as crazy as everyone else here.” He leans back, triggering the safety on the gun. 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Have to be a little crazy to be a big shot here,” you reply. Your hands replace the gun in Aventurine’s hands as you crawl over his frame.”Don't you think?” Your lips press to his cheek, his neck, and then his chest. He leans into every one. When you give him this affection, he wonders if you mean it. Or if it's just part of the arrangement you two have. 

“Why do people play this game?” He groans, closing his eyes and leaning back on the headboard. “You win nothing b-“ A gasp slips from himself after you give him a small nip on his collarbone. He tries again. ”…but can lose everything.”

You leave one more chaste kiss just below his jaw and lift your head up. “Power,” you answer. 

Your hand is still in Aventurine’s as he opens his eyes to gaze at you. Your head tilts. “If you avoided the fates of death, would you, too, not feel on par with an Aeon?”

He sighs. What a game. What a crazy and outlandish game. 

He might actually like it if he were on the other side of the gun instead of you. 

Aventurine is a lucky man. He always has been. 

He’s lucky that you’ve been paired up with him to come to this planet–he’s also lucky that you’re quick on your feet. 

He shouldn’t have come to this negotiation alone—if you could even call it that. He should have waited for you. Maybe then you both wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place and maybe then you wouldn’t be cleaning up his mess in the form of two twisted games merged as one. 

This small planet had been corrupted over the years. Its government had been rendered useless against a hate group's planned coup d’etat. Their citizens now only obeyed and obliged them. It was now yours and Aventurine’s job to either rebuild the government or eradicate the new one—whichever was faster. You both knew which was faster. 

So there you two were standing in front of this so called “Leader” as you humored him with a potential way to get the eye he apparently desired.

“I love a good game,” you had announced when you arrived.“How about we play one for it?” Your fingers gently grazed Aventurine’s eyelid, sending him a flirtatious but knowing smile. Your warning had come to fruition. 

Black Jack. 

It was Aventurine’s favorite game he had learned since becoming a Stoneheart–a freed man–a human being. He thinks it’s because it punishes those who feel overzealous but simultaneously those who are too modest. A perfect balance, he thinks.

But the men had suggested playing it differently, a way that involved more risk. The loser of each round would have to play one game of Russian Roulette. However, another bullet was added to the chamber after each round. 

How exciting. 

You both obliged. He knew that you wouldn't disagree to such an exhilarating twist on a game beloved by everyone in the IPC. However, when one of the men suggests that you be the dealer, Aventurine notices the way your lip twitches slightly. What he fails to notice, however, is the way you somberly sneak a glance at him in worry. 

The tension in the room fills the air like thick smog as the first round commences. There’s nothing but silence as you deal out the cards. 

One by one, a string of commands comes your way from each man. 

“Hit.”

“Hit.”

“Hit.” 

“Hit.”

“Hit”

“Stay.” The built man to your left says. 

“Hit.” Aventurine smiles. 

When the time comes when all must show their hands, Aventurine is the first to offer. He presents a nice even 18, and you a 20. 

Raga spreads his cards before him, showcasing a total of 14. 

You frown unapologetically. “Mmm, looks like it’s too low.” You get up from your sitting position and pull out your revolver. Everyone watches as you take a bullet and put it in the chamber, giving it a good spin. 

You stand in front of the burly man, gun to his forehead. He smiles. Oh, it’s a sickly smile. A smile that exudes hunger and madness. You smile back, of course. 

“Say, I thought your people were ones to brute force with negotiations, not play petty games.” You tilt your head expectantly. 

He laughs, the smell of liquor wafting in the air as a result. “Everyone knows the IPC ain’t ones to be messed with, pretty. Do us good to play fai-“

Click 

Theres silence. But soon follows a snicker from the other side of the table from Aventurine. He practically coos at the man’s dumbfounded expression. 

“Hmm.” You remove the gun from the man’s forehead. “Ever the lucky one,” you commend with a smirk. 

The man on the other side of the room starts to cause a ruckus, but Raga calms him down with a wave of his finger. 

He smiles. “Couldn’t have two pretty things if I were dead.” His dark eyes drift to Aventurine and then back to you. 

Aventurine refuses to let his smile drop, although it yearns to. 

The next round is then set in motion. 

Cards are dealt, drawn, and played. When the time comes for all to flip their cards over, it doesn't matter the poker faces shown throughout the round or if Raga’s hand is closer to 21 than Aventurine’s because Aventurine says one small word when he tallies up the total of his hand.

“Bust.”

His shades glint in the dim yellow light of the room, and he shows a beaming smile. Your heart sinks, but poker faces are never turned off on the clock when you are an IPC manager. So, you neatly place your own cards down and begin to stand. 

Aventurine watches as you take the gun out of your holster. His eyes follow your every move as you add another bullet to the chamber. When the chamber is flicked back in place, he smiles at you sweetly–innocently. Like this is all a game of checkers. 

You say nothing and point the gun to his heart. 

He chuckles. “Want me to suffer, huh?” His gloved hands gently meet your hand, and he moves the gun so it points at his head, the cold metal stinging his skin. 

His peacock-esque eyes put on a performance for you as he looks up through his blond eyelashes. “If my luck runs out, at least make it quick, boss.” 

His smirk is sickening, but your face stays that of a stone. You pull the hammer down and…

click 

You’re silent, but your actions speak for yourself. You quickly remove the gun from his head, causing all eyes around the room to stay lingering on you. You forcefully lighten your expression, forming a smile on your lips. “Hm.”

“What?” Aventurine questions playfully. “Did ya doubt me?” He just watches as you turn your back without a word and begin to set up the table for the next round. 

Its a quick round. One filled with few distractions. And when it’s time for everyone to flip their cards, all at the table are surprised at your hand, including yourself. 

Black Jack. 

You look around, observing the men’s hands. Aventurine smirks, his eyes practically sparkling at the outcome. He holds an almost perfect hand of 21. His opponent, not so lucky, grumbles as he slaps the deck of cards on the table–his cards only adding up to a measly 17. 

You stand up from your seat and begin to make your way over to Raga. Your fingers fiddle and twirl the bullet in your hand. The chamber opens with a clank, and you gently slide the bullet in place, giving it a good spin before closing it. 

“That’s three,” you warn. Your shoulders are squared as you aim at the man’s head. “You could call this all off now if you like.”You bend down to his level and give and furrow your brows “Is it really worth it?” You ask. 

“Think I can’t win?” He asks boldly as he puffs out his chest.

You smile sweetly. “I think bullets don’t care what your title is, Raga of the Waste.”

You pull the hammer, and Raga grins ear to ear at your smooth voice, calling him by his self-proclaimed title. That is until there’s a loud-

Bang!

Silence fills the room like no other.

Until there isn't. 

A wet noise riddled with death plagues everyone’s ears. Shock and fear fill Raga’s eyes as a gargling noise escapes from his throat. Blood threatens to make its way out his mouth as he claws at the wound in his heart. 

Your eyes widen as you watch the trail of blood escape his lips, and a small smile appears on your face. 

Maybe it wasn’t small enough. 

Because then your head is being grabbed and crushed down to the floor as screams and shouts mixed with the wet gasps of death flood your ear. 

“You bitch!”

“You knew, didn’t you!” 

“Answer me!”

The wind has been knocked out of you, but you still manage to laugh hysterically–your mind just as gone as your physical body. This angers the man, causing him to grab you by the neck, squeezing the life out of you while you’re on your back. You choke, still smiling at him. Your vision becomes blurry. Your mind hazy. Your eyes watery. You can barely even see the man’s malicious expression over top of you. 

A sudden loud noise makes you flinch, followed by a sharp, irritating ringing in your ears. A warm, wet liquid begins to drip, drip, drip on your cheek. The man’s grip on your neck begins to fade, and your vision returns just enough to see his eyes roll in the back of his head. 

The next instant, your chest is being crushed by the dead weight of the man on top of you, his body limp and lifeless. 

You gasp. Wrangled coughs begin to erupt from you as your chest heaves up and down–gasping for air. You look to your left, the sight of splattered brains and blood littering the wall behind you. The smell of iron floods your nostrils. Aventurine stands above you. His own chest heaves as his gun still points at the dead man’s body. You look up at him through your wet lashes, his gun just as flashy as him. You wonder how he was able to conceal it withou-

Bang!

He fires again. The noise makes you flinch, causing your body to jump back to reality. His nostrils flare, and there is a look of pure rage and insanity as he looks down at the already deceased man.

Then he fires again. 

And again.  

And when the last round fires into the limp man’s body, you can’t even think to react to it anymore. 

You both stay still taking in the newfound quietness–the newfound safety. There are only small breaths as you both calm down, the adrenaline leaving your bodies. 

Aventurine breathes in harshly through his nose and licks his lips. “Tell Jade…” He lifts his glasses up, resting them on the crown of his head. You watch as his hands shake as he does so. 

“Yeah…” You breathlessly agree, already knowing what he’s about to say. You squirm beneath the man’s body and lift his weight off of you.“That we’re not doing business…with this shit hole of a planet.”

He offers you his handkerchief.

You take it graciously while walking ahead of him–your strides unusually long. “Wasn’t that something?” Aventurine humors. You continue to walk as you rid your face of the almost dried blood on your face. 

Aventurine tries to catch up to you. His steps hold a slight bounce in them as he does so while readjusting the hat on his head. “You’re hot with blood on yourself,” he flirts, trying to cut the tension. “I ever tell you that?”

You stay silent and keep your pace, wiping the remainder of the blood that imposes itself on your skin. You politely hand him back his handkerchief. When it reaches his hands, he looks down at it, his eyes weary. 

“Besides the last part, you have fun?” He inquires. ”Bet you got a kick outta pointing a gun to my hea-”

There's a loud smack as the palm of your hand meets the side of his face. Silence follows, and you look down upon him as his head hands down to the side. He groans slightly as his hand makes its way to soothe the stinging pain of his cheek. 

When he recovers, all he can manage to do is look you in the eyes like a kicked puppy when his gaze lands on your mortified face–made so by his previous words. 

Your horror turns into anger as you bear into his soul before you turn and walk away without a word. 

You had taken a shower to remove the smell of iron and brain matter from your skin, but you had left the bathroom door closed, seemingly uninviting Aventurine to bathe with you. 

He waits for you patiently. When you come out clean and dressed, his hand tenderly trails to your neck in worry, the bruise becoming more visible now that your skin has been cleansed.

Your hand reaches for his. You take it away from your neck and squeeze gently. “I’m alright,” you reassure him as you lay down on the bed of the hotel room. He follows. 

He doesn’t like this, and he doesn’t like what you do to him. For Aeons' sake, you slapped him hours earlier and haven’t said a word since. 

Yet he follows you like a weak lap dog as your silence makes him more and more worried. You had struck him down and given him a look of utter disgust and horror. Hell, he might even like it if it were in the right context. But he believes he hates your silence more than being bitch slapped. 

He doesn't know what to say or how to feel, and he is clueless about how to make things right. 

So, he resorts to what he knows. Pleasure. 

Your thoughts are still processing while you lay down on your back in the cold hotel room. Your arm sprawls across your eyelids to block the sunlight that intrudes past the curtains. 

Aventurine places a kiss on your jaw. 

You let out a sigh. “I told you not to go without me.” Your voice is soft but stern, not at all reflecting the look of disgust you had given him before arriving back from the mission.

His lips travel to your neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispers softly. He tries to show it by suckling at the tender spot between your shoulder and neck, eliciting a small gasp from you. His fingertips gently trace along your neck, your soft skin now forming a bruise from the previous pressure. 

You let out a slow muffled moan. “You almost died.”

He trails small pecks down to your stomach, his hand traveling underneath your shirt to tenderly grope one of your breasts, “Hah, me? Never.” He presses his lips down to praise your skin, 

“I could’ve killed you,” you rebuttal. 

“I wouldn’t mind dying by your hands.”

“Don’t say that, please.” Your eyes are still closed, and you let out a small sigh of frustration. 

“Shh,” he murmurs as his mouth traps down to your hips, and his fingers hook underneath your underwear. 

“Kakavasha.” Your voice is sharp and in the present, as you yank his head up with your hand. You say no words, but your eyes speak for you. You don't have to do this. Talk to me. Listen to me. Your eyes beg him. There’s a hint of shock and pain in his beautiful eyes at the sound of his birth-given name. He waits patiently for you to speak, a worried expression riddling your face. 

“Don’t say that! I could’ve killed you!” You reiterate with a scream. 

“Okay, oka-”

“Why would you do that?” You question. Your own iris’ staring into his with fire in them. “The IPC needs you. You’re too valuable, and you would throw your life away?” You scream. “And let me be the cause?”

He looks at you in bewilderment. He had never seen you with this much panic in your eyes–in your voice–in your body language. You’re stiff as your hand still gently grips his blond locks. Your poker face at the time had fooled him, too. You were always calm; collected. He thought you enjoyed the game as much as he did…that is…until he started not enjoying it… 

Flashes of your face enter his mind. Replaying like a broken DVD on a loop. He sees your face turning a wild shade of blue, red, and purple, with the man’s hands on your neck. He comes back to reality, his eyes finding the bruise on your neck. 

“Me?” He questions, his voice raising, much different from his normal nonchalant tone of voice. “You act as if you weren’t dying on the floor.” He takes a sharp breath inward. After all that happened you chose to worry about him? “Be angry at me for almost getting you killed god damn it, not for playing a stupid game!” 

You let go of his hair in shock as he continues. “What the hell do you think would’ve happened to me if they found you dead and me alive?” 

It is at that moment that you both realize what you’re trying to do. You both aim to cover up your glaring emotions with selfish reasoning, to mask the wanting feeling in your chests with your calculated words.  

He’s the first to break as his voice begins to crack. “What would I do without you?” His eyes look into yours, and the weight of his question settles in on your heart. “What do you think would’ve happened to me without you here?”

You don’t answer; you only stare at him in bewilderment. He doesn't let you answer–gratefully– because you're not sure if you have one.

“And you were laughing—” he adds. His frame crawls on top of you. “Why were you laughing?” His eyes reflect the utter amazement and shock that he feels remembering your strained laughs, even in the face of death. 

With his body so close to you–with his face so close to yours, you have no choice but to answer him. 

“I wouldn’t mind dying by anyone’s hand,” you reply quietly, barely above a whisper. 

Aventurine’s own words replay in his mind as his eyes widen at your declaration. “Don’t say that!” he grunts, his hand grabbing your chin roughly. His fingers and thumb squish into both sides of your cheeks as he leans forward, his face mere centimeters from yours. “Why would you say that?” His voice is breathy when he questions you. You’ve never seen him so worked up, with so much pain in his eyes, so…vulnerable. 

He lets go of your chin and continues to stare into your eyes–a mutual level of understanding found between you two in the thick silence. A somber look. 

Both tired of working.

Of negotiating.

Of investing.

Both wearied of your lives. 

Aventurine breaks eye contact, and his head begins to sag. He whispers. “I shouldn't have gone alone. I-I shouldn't have had you fix my messes…”

“Shh, shh,” you interject. Your gentle hand travels to his cheek, where you had struck him, as you lift his head up. You usher him closer, and your foreheads meet. “You did well, Kakavasha,” you whisper softly to him. A sigh escapes his lips at the praise. “Please, be careful,” you plead. 

Aventurine nods ever so slightly. “Only if you are,” he counters, leaning forward to kiss you. His tongue slips in between your lips. It’s eager, yes. But it’s like no other kiss that you usually share with him. The ones filled with pleasure, want, and lust. Instead, it’s filled with another word that Aventurine dares not think of because it scares him too greatly. 

But there is a lingering feeling inside him that thinks you might feel it too.

Don’t date your coworkers, chat. Especially if ur both lowkey suicidal. Also, you know I had to make him say “bust.” C’mon now.

ty for making it to the end, whew. reblogs are appreciated. <3

Is this a sign to stop crying over losing a bunch of progress on a post being made and go to sleep even though it’s only 3:20 am?

what if I annoyed you

what if I annoyed you

what if I annoyed you

what if I annoyed you

what if I annoyed you

what if I annoyed you

what if I annoyed you

what if I annoyed you

😋

I think you'll find chocolates melted under your bed at night

😁

I love this so much. Adorable

The best milk commercial ever

heizou.

HEIZOU!!!!!

Happy Birthday, Dazai Osamu :)

Happy Birthday to this Suicidal Maniac (if I could make art I would but I suck at it)

June 9

Hello Lovely reminder that you are loved and I care about. Remember to have a lovely day being who you are and also remember I love who you are.

Have a lovely rest of your day :)