#Tags and Reading Challenges

[valkugo]

"You can only be jealous of someone who has something you think you ought to have yourself." Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale

[mossymage]

♥️Red♥️

I’ve been working slowly at this fanart for the incredible @thedivinecharis ‘s mafia au fic, and i’m finally calling it done!

[kth1]

bangtan gif challenge ☆ ↳ a concept that you cannot forget → mots7 v2

[loudclan-clangen]

Loudclan - Moon 31:

As summer fades to a close and the weather shifts colder by the day, Juneaucliff finds himself wishing that his nest wasn't so empty, and seeks advice from his friends on ways to woo a certain red-furred she-cat.

While the older toms aren't very helpful, Kingfur and Cavedew are more than willing to provide their assistance! (red substance is berry juice, not blood)

With a brief thanks for their assistance, Juneaucliff hurries back to camp, now overflowing with confidence and ready to make his move.

Rosehiptree is still just as uninterested as ever... At least when it comes to Juneaucliff.

Songpaw always seems to have herbs stuck in his fur. Juneaucliff watches jealously from across the camp.

Axeldawn takes pity on the poor, embarrassed Juneaucliff, and decides to lend him a paw. Juneaucliff decides to wear the forget-me-nots permanently, so that Kingfur and Peakpatch won't get the satisfaction of seeing him admit to being fooled.

Their bonding is interrupted by Fairbanks, a fierce young tom who wishes to join the clan, but only after he's assured that the fur-braiding and berry blush isn't mandatory.

Back in camp, Weed and Cavedew have some bonding time.

Cavedew, Weed, Juneaucliff, and Axeldawn are all poisoned after ingesting baneberries. Weed catches the symptoms early enough to prevent any immediate deaths, but the affected cats are still at risk.

[I had FAR too much fun doing the lighting and backgrounds for these! Rosehip cleaning Song might also be my new favorite panel I've drawn, they're so cute! If you are a Peakpatch or Jaggedtail fan please say thank you to the discord for bullying me into including them. This moon was not supposed to be as big as it is since the poisoning event truly happened next moon in-game, but it was just too perfect with the herbs getting messed up to not move it to this moon. Baneberries are real and they look very much like wild cranberries at a quick glance. (they also, fun fact, grow in my back yard). Also how are we feeling about the text size? I noticed it was a bit hard to read without clicking so I made it a couple sizes bigger, does it make a difference for yall? Anyway, it's 4am and I'm so tired, so I'm gonna drop this and head for bed. Hope yall enjoy!]

First Moon

Next Moon

[leons-art-pit]

some DDVAU specific doodles for This Challenge

au by @kitsuneisi and @xmaruu11 this au lives in my head rent free, thank you guys for the wonderful au <33

Tango - 1F CuteGuy - 5C

Blood Warning:

the first one I did!!

CuteGuy - 10H

[klbzplb]

Life Series X The Normal Album

[svtskneecaps]

FUCK IT!!!! I MISS WHEN MY MINECRAFT SERVERS HAD CULTURAL EXCHANGE IN THEM!!!! I MISS WHEN MY MINECRAFT SERVERS HAD LANGUAGE BARRIERS IN THEM!!!!! I MISS WHEN WE WERE ALL CRAMMED IN A PIT TOGETHER SCREAMING AND SHAKING AND SOBBING AND CONFUSED AS ALL HELL SITTING IN THE TUMBLR LIVEBLOGS HOLDING HANDS AS WE ALL EXPLAINED WHAT THINGS MEANT, WHAT THE REAL WORLD CULTURAL CONTEXT WAS, WHAT WAS GOING ON IN BITS THE TRANSLATOR COULDN'T GET!!!!! FUCK IT!!!!!!! I'LL TAKE ANOTHER GODDAMN PURGATORY!!!!! GIVE ME A BUNCH OF PEOPLE FORMING SIX PERSON FAMILIES OVER THE SPAN OF THREE TO FIVE DAYS!!!!!!!! GIVE ME THE EVIL SHADOW GOVERNMENT THAT NEVER MADE ANY GODDAMN SENSE, GIVE ME THE STUPID FUCKING EYE WORKERS THAT WERE AGGRAVATINGLY UNBEATABLE, GIVE ME THE CONFUSING ASS BLACK CONCRETE STRUCTURES THAT WENT BASICALLY FUCKING NOWHERE!!!!!! I'LL TAKE IT ALL IF IT MEANS I GET A FRENCH MAN AND A GUY FROM LUXEMBOURG AND A WOMAN FROM SOUTH KOREA SHOOTING THE SHIT IN A MINECRAFT PIT STARTER HOUSE AGAIN!!!!!!!!!! I'LL TAKE IT IF I GET BRAZILIAN PORTUGUESE AND FRENCH AND ENGLISH AND SPANISH SITTING AT A FUCKING TABLE IN A SECRET UNDERGROUND MEETING ROOM THEORIZING ABOUT A MINECRAFT CHARACTER WITH AN APPEARANCE BASED ON A JOKE ABOUT A GUY'S DOG BEING AN AMERICAN CONSERVATIVE!!!!!!! GIVE IT BACK!!!!!!!!! GIVE IT BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!

[sun-e-chips]

We love an oblivious y/n

y/n: ( Aww, they really prioritize their guests and making their experience more personal <3

WP Sun: ( Isn’t it amazing!!! Do you love it? :D Don’t you wanna stay here forever :DDD

[paperbaacks]

༊*·˚ — 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝟻-𝟺-𝟹-𝟸-𝟷 𝚝𝚊𝚐

✧ — five books i love

the invisible life of addie larue - v.e. schwab

the seven husbands of evelyn hugo - taylor jenkins reid

yellowface - r.f. kuang

piranesi - susanna clarke

paper moon - rehana munir

✧ — four books on my tbr

the cinnamon bun book store - laurie gilmore

butter - asako yuzuki (translated by polly barton)

just kids - patti smith

the picture of dorian gray - oscar wilde

✧ — three books i recommend

babel - r.f. kuang

loveless - alice oseman

blue sisters - coco mellors

✧ — two books i've read recently

intermezzo - sally rooney

in the dream house - carmen maria machado

✧ — one book i'm currently reading

the pumpkin spice café - laurie gilmore

[joshuamj]

Linktober Day 1: Mirror

Prompt list I'll be trying a few days from!

[zae-heeyyy]

Boisterous

Summary: Arthur takes you to The Loft. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader Word Count: 2,095 Warnings: 18+ MDNI Tags: rough sex, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, biting

a/n: I somehow ended up spending literal hours trying to perfect this drawing. I traced a lot and freehanded a lot too, but overall, I'm happy with the final product. TYSM for taking the time to read, like, reply, and reblog; I appreciate every interaction!

Boisterous: behavior that is loud, energetic, and often unruly. It describes a person or situation that is full of noisy enthusiasm.

When Arthur found "The Loft" two nights ago, he was grateful to sleep in a bed surrounded by four sturdy walls. The accommodation would've been perfect, but you were missing from it all. Lewd images of your past escapades together infiltrated his mind as he tried to sleep, and he made his best efforts to push them aside. Your pretty face lit up his brain, and he wrapped his hand around his cock, trying his best to imitate the ecstasy only you could make him feel. No grip was as delectable as yours, though, and despite a quick release, he was more pent-up than ever. He needed you there with him and planned to sweep you up and bring you back as soon as the sun rose.

The cowboy's sonorous voice roused you from your dreams about him, the early morning sun casting a golden glow on his face as he leaned over you. His beard had grown since the few days you'd last seen him.

"Get dressed. M'taking you somewhere."

Without a second thought, you joined him on the back of his horse within the hour. Arthur spared the details of this urgent impromptu trip, keeping you in suspense for the duration of the ride.

In a few hours, you'd passed through Valentine, went by Fort Wallace, and climbed up into the mountains of the Grizzlies East. As you rode on, the clouds grew thick and gray, and the smell of petrichor filled your nostrils. Arthur caressed a hand you had wrapped around his waist, reassuring you.

"Almost there."

But you weren't close enough; the atmosphere released a torrential downpour in the last fifteen minutes of your journey, leaving you drenched. A little after noon, you reached a towering outpost that Arthur coined, The Loft. Arthur ushered you inside, futilely shielding you from the rain and promising the heat of a fireplace as he closed the door behind you.

While you stood, rubbing your arms for warmth, Arthur checked for signs of other people, climbing a ladder and peaking over the top for a second before sliding down.

You two were all alone, finally.

When he got a good look at you, he realized just how soaked you were, the layers of your clothes sticking to you and showing every curve of your body. Arthur swallowed, mouth salivating from the view of your hard nipples peeking through your blouse.

All the blood left his head and traveled south, damn near making him dizzy. Maybe he should've been embarrassed, but he was just a man, and you were the most alluring thing ever.

Two large steps were all it took to get to you. One hand found the back of your head, and the other rested on your hip as he drew your lips to his, practically swallowing you in a scalding kiss.

You could feel the groan rumbling in his chest, and you giggled against his lips. The noise crescendoed as his lips separated from yours to find your jaw and neck. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, inhaling your scent while the hand on the back of your head traveled to the small of your back.

"Mmm," he hummed, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. "I missed y'so much."

And he had you all alone, truly alone, for the first time in your relationship. He'd been waiting to make love to you the way he really wanted. Your previous rendezvous were hushed, whispered, and sneaky, your moans muffled by Arthur's lips or hand. Even when he whisked you away to a hotel, he was keenly aware of everybody else around who could hear the two of you. Turning you into a whimpering mess filled him with fervent pride, but he wanted those parts of you, especially the sounds you made, all to himself.

The thought of finally hearing all those pretty little noises at full volume was enough to rile him up, and his hand groped your breast, kneading with a force he hadn't used on you before. You shivered against him; some of it was from your arousal, but the other part was the cold.

"The fire, Arthur," you said, shoving him off playfully. Grunting, he tore away from you, grateful for a log near the stove.

While his back was turned, you peeled the wet clothes off your body and dropped your blouse on the floor. Arthur spun back around right as you stepped out of your skirt, leaving you clad in your bloomers and nothing else. His breath hitched in his throat as if it were the first time your body had been bestowed upon him.

"Straight outta my dreams," he declared, his blue eyes shining with pure avidity. And just like that, Arthur strode across the room, dragging a chair with him and putting it against the door nob, just in case. You were back in his arms in an instant, his kisses emphasized with unadulterated sounds of pleasure. A rough hand slid into the waistband of your bloomers and grabbed a fistful of your ass, squeezing, letting go, and repeating.

You sigh breathlessly as he feels you up, leaning into his touch. Then without warning, he tastes you hungrily, tongue fucking your mouth.

His chest vibrates with titillation again, and you're hoisted up into his arms just a beat later, his hands cupping your rear. You squeal, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding on tight as he carries you across the room and dumps you on blue cotton blankets. Breathing heavily, you watch under eyes saturated with desire as he promptly removes his own damp clothes.

You were just as taken aback by his body as he was with yours. Brown curls adorned his chest and stomach and gathered in a carnal wreath around his manhood. Touching him was like running your hands over a textured map: his scars, old and new, like rivers and valleys, while his muscles, firm and hot, were mountains and volcanoes. You could spend eternity exploring that map. Arthur would never get used to you ogling him in such a way, but now your hungry eyes lured him to you.

He climbed on top of you, pinning you under his weight. Usually, he'd ask if you were okay, but you answered the question before he'd even asked by tangling your legs around his waist and crossing your ankles to bring him closer.

His hard-on brushed against your leg, making him shudder. You helped him remove the last garment of clothes between the two of you, lifting your hips to help him pull the bloomers down your legs and off your feet.

Arthur normally took his time meticulously exploring you, leaving kisses in his wake, but damn it, the thought of the sweet grip of your pussy had been on his mind for days, and he needed it now.

His forehead leaned against yours, and he clutched your jaw, holding your face still to gawk at it. If someone saw him this way, they'd think he'd just completed a full sprint, every exhale coming out in a loud pant. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, turning him animalistic. He couldn't wait any longer.

The gunslinger dipped his head to look between you, a guttural utterance escaping him as you spread your legs, exposing your needy cunt. He held his cock, nearly discolored from being so hard, and rubbed it up and down your center, coating himself in your juices.

"Need you, woman," he bellows. The bass in his voice sends goosebumps spreading down your arms, and you nod, mouth agape, eyes staring into his. His jaw also hinges as he watches himself disappear inside you. Once wholly sheathed, he moans long and loud, a stark contrast to his regular subduedness.

You'd never seen him like this, so desperate and uninhibited. Your body responds to the unexpected but welcomed change, your pussy clenching around him, making both of you jolt. Holding himself up on his forearms, he rocks his hips into you at a steady pace, leaning down to kiss your neck.

Shy and coy Arthur had left the building, replaced by wolfish Arthur, willing to howl and snarl for what he wanted. And in the moment, he wanted to brand you with his mouth. Bruising you was defacing a masterpiece, but it was a crime he was happy to commit. He was an outlaw, after all. He nipped at your neck with his teeth, leaving a mark before moving on to another spot to do the same.

You cried out, the first orgasm of the night building within you. He knew your body well and adjusted to give you what you needed, straightening his back, digging his thumbs into your ribs, and pistoning in and out, his hand going to rub your clit. Head tipped back, he moaned, no, roared, with every thrust.

You knew this was rare: Arthur Morgan losing complete control of himself. He was lost in you, lost in your wetness, lost in your tightness, and lost in those sounds. His head snapped down, and he stared right through you, eyes wild.

"Let me hear you," he demanded, slowing his strokes to get your attention. Head spinning, you gasped, too cock drunk to pay attention to what he was saying.

Grumbling, he pulled out of you to switch positions, now standing on the side of the bed. He guided you back to him, aligning your backside with his crotch. He hugged you to his chest, your back pressed into him. Your hands instantly went to his forearm, holding onto him as he practically held you in the air.

"I said let me hear you," he growled in your ear, accenting each word of his demand with an electrifying pulse of his hips. You arched your back into him, his name coming off your lips like thunder.

"That's it, darlin’."

Perverse sounds of wet skin slapping together and boisterous cries filled the cabin.

You were starting to see stars, your vision blurring as you focused on the pressure building in your insides, wanting so desperately for it to boil over. Your toes dug into the buckskin rug at your feet, trying to keep the rest of your body upright.

Arthur was a machine, pounding into you with the goal of bringing both of you to the edge. He didn't relent—didn't show any mercy for the mess you'd become under him. It was overstimulating in the best way possible.

You just needed a second, just one, to get your barrings. Attempting to scoot forward for that break was futile. Arthur moved with you, his length plunging deeper than ever.

"C'mere," he growled as his cock grazed against that sweet spot in the depths of your core, making you holler out and lose the little balance you had left. It didn't matter, though; he held you taught against him, pinning your body between him and the bed. Keeping one arm wrapped around you, the other touched you right where you craved.

"Now," he groaned into your ear, fingers circling your clit antagonizingly slow. A chuckle exited him as you melted to his touch. "Want you to come undone right here. Can you do that for me?"

Droplets of sweat fell from his head onto your back, and you moaned out, "Y-yes, Arthur."

You didn't take long then; a wave of warmth crashed over you as your velvet walls contracted around him, making the man curse into the now-hot cabin air. His hips kept their steady rhythm as you came, Arthur chasing his own climax now.

"Good girl, good girl, good girl," He moaned with every thrust as you clenched around him. He folded himself in half, once again putting his full weight on you, his heart pounding against your back like a drum. More erratic now, his rhythm lost its steady cadence as his balls tightened, his orgasm coursing through his veins.

He pulled out of you, one hand still gripping your side as the other one pumped furiously at his cock. Moaning, whimpering, and whining, Arthur threw his head back as hot spurts of his lust splattered across your back.

Hand falling from your hip, his breath slowed as clarity flowed back into his eyes. Using his discarded bandana, he wiped his sins away from your back before gently rolling you over. He scratched the back of his neck, a sly grin making home on his face as he watched you splayed out and spent. Arthur had gotten everything he'd ever wanted: a bed, four walls, and you.

[weirdglassthing]

ouaw doodle dump!!

[kairukitsuneo]

Pink Ratchet discord event entry for @avoidghost Original Event post is: here [The sky is the same as the day I lost you] It's my first time to join this kind of color palette event and I struggled alot to paint Ratchet since we have to paint him Pink instead of his original color! 😭😭💦 Everyone's entry was amazing and cute! I'm inspired to try something angst and very thankful for this event to make myself grow out of my comfort zone! 💕💕

[mourningsbane]

Honeyspring you deserved better darling. Beautiful creature. You and your kits were betrayed so tragically. So brutally. You and your babies deserved better.

Tanglefern...deserves a fate I can not rightly describe for damning you and those precious babies. I hope you make him pay.

Make him pay.

Make him pay.

Make him pay.

Honeyspring breaths shakily, lungs bloating with sticky fluid.

They are alone in the woods.

[archer-kacey]

"You okay there, darlin'?"

[boo-cool-robot]

Hieron Zine Comic: The Violence of Its Maintenance

[Read the left side as one storyline, the right side as another]

"For every inside, an outside." / "Every border implies the violence of its maintenance."

For me and @wellnoe's piece for the Hieron Zine, we were excited to tell a story about Hella’s semi-involuntary status as a mascot of Ordennan empire and borders as a literal technology of death that played with comic borders and formatting! The title is, of course, from the Ayesha A. Siddiqi quote.

Script for the comic below the cut, which also serves as a rough image description:

Layout note: Panels are small relative to the page and “float” in the gutter space. Adelaide swims freely between them and speaks to Hella inside the panels’ borders. The comic is laid out vertically, mostly in two columns. Panels on the left are labeled L, the center labeled M, and right labeled R. Panel numbers denote which row of the overall page they’re on.

Page 1: 3 Rows 

Panel M.1.A: Adaire hunched over a map of Hieron in a dimming twilight room.

Panel M.1.B: Close up of the map having Nacre added to it near the shore, and an outline sketched of its border, the pencil in Adaire’s hand. 

Panel M.1.C: Adaire’s hand in close-up, partially erasing the border around Nacre. 

Panel L.2: Hella outside the Ordennan border, at a tall gate. A guard looks at her suspiciously from the other side. 

Adelaide to Panel L.2: Adelaide looks at Hella condescendingly. 

Adelaide: Do you imagine that walls will keep Nacre’s gift out? 

Panel R.2: Hella and Hadrian ride in a halfling-driven cart through the refugee camp towards the Ordennan military camp. Hadrian watches Hella for her reaction to seeing the refugees. 

Panel L.3: Hella displays the emblem of the Tristes to a crowd of cheering soldiers, brandishing her sword in a stabbing gesture. 

Soldiers: Is that– From the cleansing of Nacre– She killed the queen! 

Adelaide to panel L.3: For every inside…

Panel R.3: Stornras Glasseye shows Hella and Hadrian a map of Ordenna’s planned invasion of Velas. 

Adelaide to panel R.3: …an outside. 

Page 2: 4 Rows

Panel L.1: Hella reads the book about her family being a line of traitors, inside the undersea cave. She is hunched over awkwardly, wet from swimming in, and visibly perturbed. 

Adelaide to Panel L.1: Adelaide reads over Hella’s shoulder. She’s draped over the panel like a cat, one hand dangling inside and the other holding an apple to her mouth.  

Adelaide: Our dear father did like that ancestor of yours, only for her to betray Nacre and then Ordenna. Varals love to hang people out to dry.  

Panel R.1: Hadrian and Hella interrogating Iduna Fel. Hella holds a torch up. Iduna, seated and hands bound, looks up at them and snarls at the torch, speaking of how Quintrona should burn Rosemerrow to stop the undead. 

Iduna Fel: We should be burning every place–every person–the curse has touched. 

Adelaide to Panel R.1: A family of traitors fits right in with the Tristes.

Panel L.2.A: Hella is on tour of Ordenna. She looks out distantly at the countryside. A clothesline with clothing hanging from them forming figures like people separates Hella in the panel from a mine like the ones her father worked.

Panel L.3.B: Hella on tour in an urban center, looking lost. Train tracks separate Hella from a guard station. 

Ordennan soldiers: Queenkiller! It’s the Queenkiller! 

Adelaide to panels L.2: Adelaide’s teeth are bared, her lazy demeanor dropping for one vicious moment. 

Adelaide:At least I remember that you should be called Kingkiller as well. 

Panel R.2: Hella and Hadrian walking back through the refugee camp. Refugees do laundry, multiple clotheslines crossing the panel, the clothes partially obscuring Hella and Hadrian. 

Adelaide to panel R.2: Do you believe your people to be better than me? They decide who dies to expand the borders of Ordenna. 

Panel L.3: Hella marching in front of a company of Anchor in a square formation, Ordennan soldiers crowding around them. Hella is smiling stiffly, uncomfortable. She is wearing a shiny new uniform. 

Panel R.3: Hella standing equally stiffly in front of a line of Pala-din that guard the Ordennan camp from the refugees. She watches a circle of refugees cooking and crafting, going about the business of their survival. Some are visibly undead. Two of the refugees are a Nacreite young Black sibling pair with an older boy and younger girl, invoking Calhoun and Adelaide.  Hadrian in the background examines a pala-din, his stance mirroring theirs. 

Adelaide to panel R.3: Adelaide looks at the siblings in panel R.3 but speaks over her shoulder to Hella on the left. 

Adelaide: Is it so monstrous that Nacre grows so that more may live after death? 

Panel L.4: Hella alone in a lavish Ordennan bedroom, looking out of place and small. Maybe in plain underclothes and curled up on a chair, looking angry.

Hella: Yes! 

Her dialogue fills up the panel, crowding her. 

Panel R.4: The refugees notice Hella and Hadrian and look at them warily. The boy steps in front of his sister. Hella looks small in the crowd of people. She holds a hand out to the boy. 

Page 3: 3 Rows

Panel L.1: Hella in a lavish Ordennan ceremonial chamber, on a stage. She is dressed in fine clothing given to her. A pearl-studded brooch with an Ordennan motif is being pinned on her by some military-uniformed functionary. 

Military functionary: For you, the spoils of our first battle. 

Gathered soldiers and civilians: Queenkiller! Queenkiller! Queenkiller! 

Panel R.1: Hella makes an awkward ‘open your hand’ gesture to the boy, who warily opens his hand. 

Refugees: Isn’t she….That’s the Queenkiller. The Queenkiller?

Panel L2: Hella, with her head bowed, has her arms and shoulders draped with garlands of gems and pearls looted from Nacre. The ends of the strands run down out of the bottom and side of the panel. 

Military functionary: May you always bear the fruits of our holy empire. 

Panel R.2: The boy has a handful of apple candies poured into his palm. He looks up, defiantly. A few candies fall down outside the panel. 

Adelaide, to both panels L.2 and R.2: She holds the end of a pearl garland in one hand and an apple candy in another 

Adelaide: Then tell me…What are you going to do about it, Hella Varal? 

Panel M.3.A: Adaire’s hand drawing the refugee camp in Knoll Hollow into a map of Rosemerrow. 

Panel M.3.B: The Ordennan military camp being drawn outside the refugee camp. 

Panel M.3.C: The wall around Rosemerrow being drawn between the refugee and Ordennan camps as a border. 

Title Text: The Violence of Its Maintenance 

Subtitle: Story and words by Will Xia (boo-cool-robot)

Art and lettering by Brenna (wellnoe)