Random Blurbs/Writing Snippets

Gambling Addiction

He is The House. The Man In Charge. You are but a fool, a fighter who calls themselves a hero when in truth they are but one simple word: A gambler.

You bet against the odds, looked for the little guy, chased the long-shot. It's what gave you that high of being right. Of knowing that no matter who you were, you were right.

And when you weren't you scattered back to a safe place offered to you by an unsavory ally, a monarch claiming anarchy. He gave you the little gambles, the easy ones to roll you back on your hill. Unknowingly, ever unknowingly, he fueled tour addiction to odds. He fought against a man, a short fiery man, one who brought chaotic, fluctuating odds wherever he went.

You followed those odds to Las Nevadas, watching as a slime and a god walked into a bar. The punchline never hit so you went back to your safehaven. There, as always, you went against all odds and found him.

Quackity was snooping around Phil's things, squeaking in surprise when you walked in unannounced. It was an odd curve ball, a surprisingly good roll on a dice, a checkmate you could've never predicted. "It's not what it looks like!"

"It looks like you're stealing," You crossed your arms, watching as the leader, a man who's life revolved around a hidden deck, lost all his aces. "I've got half a mind to call Phil and tell him what you're doing."

"No! Buddy, big man, we can talk this through," he pressed a hand to his chest, trying to pull a coin behind your ear. It would've been a neat illusion of a trick if you hadn't seen through his sleight of hand. "I'm just here to get something back. Something wrongfully taken."

"Phil's not usually a big fan of stealing, I doubt he took anything without good reason," You don't look amused at all, even if deep down beneath the heroic front you're cackling with laughter. "So why are you really here."

"Okay, okay, I'll admit I was stealing. But-" Quackity raises his hand in a placating manner, voice lifted on the ladt word. "I have a good reason. See, Technoblade took something from me and I want it back."

"And why would Phil have this thing?" You ask, raising a brow as the man leaned forward, pursing his lips as he looked left and right. A con man through and through, you smiled.

"Okay, so I shouldn't be telling you this but take it as a sign of trust," He grinned wolfishly, like you were a lamb he was waiting to slaughter. "I got a shulker box and Technoblade took it. Now i have good reason to believe that Phil asked to borrow it and Technoblade let him."

"You got a shulker box? Wait, how would you know Techno let Phil borrow it?" You asked, taking a step forward.

Quackity smirked, putting his hand up in a shrug."If I told you that I'd have to kill you."

And those odds, the chance that he could handle a sword against you, it lit up a flame in your stomach. Lifting up your netherite sword, glimmering with the spoils of a powerful hand, you smiled. "I'd like to see you try."

"Okay, okay!" He yelped, taking a step back with a nervous laugh. "Let's not get trigger happy. I had someone come here to watch Technoblade and they saw the whole thing happen."

"And the shulker?"

"Even your meaty arms aren't enough to make me open my mouth," He licked his lips with a wry grin, nervous but flirty. "I'm more scared of them than I am of you."

"Fine," You put your sword back, still itching for something more.

"But why would I not let Phil know you're here?"

"Uhm," Quackity paused before he laughed loudly, playing off the hesitance. "Of course you wouldn't. We're friends now, big man."

"We are?" You asked, eyebrows raised.

"Of course," They brushed themselves forward, looping an arm around your shoulder with a (little/some/a lot) bit of difficulty. "And friends have each other's back. Unlike how Technoblade treats anyone other than Phil, I would help you when you needed."

You didn't mean to but you hesitated. Techno was someone you didn't fully call a friend, a sentiment he shared, but you were both still allies. You stayed a little ways away, came to fight during Doomsday. Techno had given you a title in his little anarchy club but he was still always an arms length away.

Quackitys arm grew tighter on you while you hesitated and it felt encircling, warm but dangerous, a trap waiting to ensnare you. The odds of survival around him were testy, but you loved testy odds.
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[Not finished. Likely not continuing.]