#darky writes

[thedarkone121]

In light of Jekyll and Hyde’s secret getting revealed… Time to think of scenarios of how Hyde reacts to Anne-Marie already knowing the truth!

Keep in mind, this is more on the light-hearted side of things. I think if Anne-Marie admitted she knew about Jekyll and Hyde during the comic events, I think the whole dialogue would be more dramatic and emotional. But we were not doing that today! Today is about being silly and goofy!

(And yes, I did already posted this on Discord)

How would Hyde react if Anne-Marie admitted she knew the truth about him and Jekyll

Hyde: Wait a damn minute… If you knew for that long, that means you knew just as we were pinning Hyde-Hunting down! Anne-Marie: Uh… Hyde: You little gormless brat! Do you know how many whacks with that cane I had to take because I was pretending to not be your father?! COME HERE, YOU—!

OR

Hyde: Finally! Now that I don’t have to hide it from you anymore, I can use my powers as a father to my advantage! …You’re grounded! Anne-Marie: WHAT?! You can’t do that! Hyde: According to Jekyll, I can! Maybe next time you should think twice about bonking people on the head! (laughs evilly) Anne-Marie: RAHH! (bonks him on the head) Hyde: AH!

[anistrange]

You Know...?

Imagine being a teenager living on an island where a idiot king like Polydectes forcefully tries to marry your mother Danaë and making impossible the live of your adoptive parents unless you accomplish a series of task that involve your death; with a sheer of luck you get rid of Medusa but then you have to rescue a princess whose mother is a pain in the ass from a sea monster, later, fighting the consort of said princess who doesn't give two shits about the well-being of Andromeda, and then rescuing your mother from Polydectes and thanking your adoptive parents with a powerful gesture of giving to them the crown of the island for the Tumblrinas to imagine you as a raging asshole and wanting you dead because D A D D Y Ovid and your pop mythology authors are always right. What a bummer.

[kibblenoodlesnail]

War between worlds Suns,

The premise of this au is Darkie gets bored of "playing nice" and kidnaps quite a few of the people from other Suns dimensions,

MainAuSun, or our Sun, is not having it, and sets off to look for his family,

But in the midst of it all, someone glitches back, someone who should not be alive in anyway.

Anyways, this is a story I'm in the process of writing (totally) So look out for it!

Do not repost my art, Reblogs and likes are appreciated

[absentcigarettes]

Whiskey Through Anger

Relationship: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith

Word Count: 6751

Summary: Arthur near pitied the women who'd slept with Charles. He confused pity for envy. charles is mad bcs of the poachers who killed the bison, Arthur cheers him up by lending him his ass

Note: was my first time writing smut so it may be cringe. also it's completely un-beta'd so it might have mistakes

read on ao3

I need a drink.

That was the first thing Charles had thought after leaving the hunter bastards' camp. It was likely the only thing that would take his mind off of the merciless cruelty imposed upon those poor bison. It would also distract him from the unneglectable urge within him to hunt down the man who'd paid those poachers himself. That- and a quick fuck. Preferably with one of the saloon girls. The prostitutes would work, but most of them weren't as appealing to Charles; most looking for rich men rather than a good time. And it did well for Charles's ego whenever he successfully wooed the women into sleeping with him. On the way to Valentine, he'd suddenly remembered Taima's need to be brushed and fed. So with the most miniscule amount of sense left in his mind that had thankfully not been overtaken by the rumbling rage travelling through his veins, he turned back and rode towards camp.

He leaned against a tree, beside the horse's hitching posts, awaiting Taima's return from the lakeside. Earlier, he'd decided to settle for a quick shave. If he was gonna fuck, may as well be presentable. He shaved frequently but not daily; he wasn't into the scraggly, unkempt beards most men in the gang had. Except Arthur. That man could make anything Charles found revolting to be absolutely alluring.

Taima had returned, as he knew she would. "Here, girl.." He reached his hand out, to which she happily nestled her head in the palm of his hand. He felt his fury dissipate.

Until Micah came.

"Darkie!" The rough shrill of his voice called, "Where's your boyfriend?" Boyfriend. A nickname begun by Dutch to tease Arthur as he'd been seen frequently hanging around Charles more often. It ain't helped that they'd barely ever spoken up 'til Colter and that Charles rarely hung out with people. At best, he drank with Javier and John. Any other interaction with the gang members weren't personal. He didn't mind the nickname. But Arthur sure did, and that stung somehow.

"Excuse me?" His fury returned.

Micah leaned nearer, "You deaf, redskin?" He snarled, shoving him back. Charles could smell the nauseating toxins released from his mouth; Micah's breath was worse than a pile of rotting corpses.

Charles shoved Micah back. Harder. Micah fell back, knocking over the wooden crates behind him, as well as everything on them. The sound of the gang's belongings clattering on the dirt caused heads to turn in their direction. With the tip of his boot, he'd kicked Micah hard in the stomach, "Fuck." Another kick, "You." One final blow.

He considered spitting on him, but decided against it. He wouldn't resort to such feeble means to take his anger out.

"Let's go, girl," He said to Taima, jumping on his horse, who neighed in agreement before galloping away.

"Gimme a whiskey." He'd barged into the saloon and sat at the counter. The bartender was often friendly with Charles; despite the short time they'd been there, Charles had frequented going there to drink with Javier and at times, uninvited imbeciles such as Bill and when really unlucky- Uncle. Instead of striking up a conversation, as Charles usually would to pass the time, he stared at the bartender with dark eyes, expectantly awaiting his drink. It was evident that he was in a sour mood, so a glass was poured and served swiftly and without a word.

He took the sip, taking pleasure in how the burn in his throat so effectively distracted him from the seething wrath consuming him. Stirring the clear bronze liquid with his finger, he couldn't help but remember how he'd confronted those poachers. The anger that had overtaken him in that moment. The loud blast of the gunshot he'd heard after subconsciously shooting a dent in the man's face. He didn't regret it.

Suddenly, he remembered the cowardly pleas of the second poacher. How much he took pleasure in watching the man squirm. And suddenly- Arthur stepped in.

Arthur.

Oh, how his heart softened for that man.

He'd regretted yelling at him for letting the pathetic bastard go. He was always much more of a better man than Charles could ever be. Through his blind hatred, he couldn't think right, but there Arthur was. Returning to him his sight and helping him retrieve his mind- though, simultaneously overtaking his heart. After having first laid eyes on him back in Blackwater, the snarky cowboy with wits as well as beauty- he could never stop looking at him. For him. Whenever he'd leave Charles's line of sight, his eyes would instinctually begin to search for the man once more. He remembered wandering around the area for no particular reason but to catch a glimpse of him. At the time, he wasn't the kind to drink often, but whenever he was asked to tag along and told that Arthur would follow, he accepted immediately.

Pathetic. He thought. How delusional.

The man would never love him. He knew this. If by some miracle Arthur Morgan, the Van der Linde gang's best shot and toughest member, somehow held interest for the male sex, there was absolutely no way in hell he'd choose Charles.

It was enough for him that he could be considered a friend to Arthur. He was satisfied.

His solution to escape from his anger led him to wallowing in self-pitiful sorrow. Far worse than anger.

When the whiskey reduced to drops, he requested a second glass. Feeling his temper cooling, he sighed. Maybe time for that fuck.

A rough voice came, one he'd recognise anywhere: "I knew I'd find you here!" A slap on the back.

"Arthur." He near smiled.

The cowboy took a seat beside him and requested a beer. Charles took a sip, placing the glass down with a thud, "What are you doing here?"

His drink was served and Arthur took a sip. A smile played on his lips, "Heard a friend of mine were here. Unfortunately, it was you."

Though he knew Arthur joked often, he couldn't help the thought that lingered telling him it wasn't a joke. "Come on. Really."

"Well," Another sip, "I'd been searchin' for you."

"Hm?" He felt his cheeks heat up.

"Yeah, after I'd looted them bastards' camp, I rode back home. Thought you'd be there but all I'd seen were a very mad Micah." Arthur grinned, knowing damn well who caused Micah's well-deserved fury, "Second place I'd thought you'd be was here. Drownin' your anger in whiskey."

"You know me well." Charles smiled, taking a sip of whiskey.

"'Course i do."

Arthur accompanied him throughout the evening, 'til the sun had set and the customers increased. He provided a very welcome distraction for Charles from his foul mind and Charles was grateful.

The words they spoke became slurred and he couldn't help but notice how Arthur's lips turned more pink and how visible the flush on his cheeks were. They were both drunk. He knew that.

He hadn't drunken enough to puke his guts out or haze his vision 'til all he saw were distorting waves. But he was drunk enough for his lust to take over. Something that always happened when he drank and it certainly didn't help that right beside him was the man he oh so desperately craved for. They sat close. Too close. Charles could smell the wooden scent of his soap as well as the smell of cigarette smoke that lingered within his clothes. The whiff of whiskey on his breath, as he'd purchased a bottle for both him and Charles.

It didn't help the erection growing in his pants that their knees kept touching. And it certainly didn't help that Arthur was one touchy fella. Every few minutes a hand was placed on his thigh, shoulder or knee. It lingered a few seconds longer than natural that Charles nearly would've thought it was intentional if he didn't know any better.

When intoxicated he spoke his mind. It took a mighty amount of effort with the little composure he had left to prevent himself from yelling out his desire to fuck his closest friend. Instead he said, "I need a fuck."

Arthur stopped, "Don't wanna drink no more?"

"Mm.. not really."

"Really. Not enjoying my company?" He teased. God, of course he was.

"I always enjoy your company, Arthur," He said, slurring slightly. "But unless I can fuck you, I don't think I can sit here much longer. I'm still mad about this afternoon. Can't be sittin' here anymore- shit- I'd probably fuck you if I did." Fuck. Why would he say that. Why did he say that. Fuck fuck fuck.

The words Charles had uttered sent a spark down the pit of Arthur's stomach. Surely he didn't mean it like that. He was drunk. But then- so was Arthur. So he swallowed, "I wouldn't mind." The words come out before Arthur can stop them.

That had to be the alcohol talking, right? There would be no way in hell, that Arthur Morgan would ever say such a thing. Even if Charles was lucky enough to be blessed with the chance of even touching Arthur's bare torso- he wouldn't even dare to in fear of causing Arthur even the slightest bit of discomfort.

But.. Then again, he may never get such an opportunity again. Was Arthur bluffing? Or was it the whiskey. God, he couldn't think straight.

Finally he spoke, "What.." A pause, "What do you mean?"

He didn't dare look at Arthur.

Despite the bustle and laughter of the drunkards behind them and the sound of drinks being poured into glasses continuously, all that surrounded them was the awkward noise of silence. He looked at Arthur, surprised to find a prominent flush painted upon his cheeks, intentionally avoiding Charles's gaze, "I-" He cleared his throat, "A..As long as it'll help you."

Silence.

"Help me?"

A nod.

"You know what that means, Arthur?"

He swallowed. Another nod.

They sat in silence for a bit before Charles spoke, "Okay."

"..." Arthur chugged down his whiskey, "Okay."

Suddenly they were upstairs. In a room they'd rented, with Charles's large frame pressed up against Arthur's, pinning him against the door. With their mouths pressed together, moving messily in terrible synergy. Wet and sloppy as saliva ran down their chins. Their hands running across eachothers' bodice in desperation, eager for the most meager amount of contact. Charles's hands running down Arthur's sides and Arthur intertwining his own hands into Charles's hair, tangling the once straight strands and tugging at the scalp.

Immediately after renting a room they'd headed upstair, uncaring of the eyes that may have followed them nor the whispers that could've trailed behind. Once in said room, the door slammed and Arthur was shoved up against the door, Charles's lips crashing into his with drunken desire. Catching Arthur by surprise, taken aback by his aggressive passion. He didn't know what to do except melt into the sensation and oh. Oh, how good it felt. The way Charles kissed him was- he'd never been kissed like that before. Charles kissed him with hunger. With need. As if he were a man who'd starved for so very long and it was only Arthur who could satiate that hunger.

Charles placed a knee in between Arthur's thigh causing the man to break the kiss, eliciting a moan from him, "F-Fuc...k," He whispered. God, the sound was heaven. He couldn't believe this moment was real. That Arthur Morgan himself was so near. Pressed up against him in such a vulnerable position. He connected their lips once more, pushing his tongue into the man's open mouth causing Arthur to groan into the kiss. God, he was perfect.

Charles broke the kiss and stared at Arthur. His lips reddened and lustrous, slightly parted as Arthur panted heavily. Beautiful.

Leaning in once more, Charles pressed his lips upon his jaw. Trailing his jawline with kisses a small nips, down to his neck and collarbone. Arthur whimpered from receiving Charles's not so gentle bites and sucks. He wanted more.

"Arthur.." He hummed, leaving marks upon his collarbone.

"Y-yeah?"

"You're doing this to help me.. right?" He sucked another mark onto his terribly sunkissed skin.

He swallowed, "Y..es.

"Good.." He whispered, his voice low and sweet, dripping of luscious, sweetened syrup, it made Arthur feel something he hadn't felt before and he absolutely loved it. "Get on your knees."

"What?"

Charles caught a hint of doubt hidden among his words. He kissed his jaw, "You sure about this.. right?" He whispered, "You can still back out.." It was the last sober part of himself that spoke. He knew once they'd gone farther he would've been far too intoxicated by Arthur to stop.

"Yes." Arthur whispered, low and breathy.

"Good.. On your knees, Arthur." Arthur did as told.

He ran a hand through Arthur's hair in admiration, taking in every bit of the man. His eyes peering up to stare at Charles, his cheeks so very flushed and his lips. God. His lips. "Good boy.." He spoke. The praise sent a terribly satisfying warmth down the pit of Arthur's stomach.

Charles could feel his erection hardening at the sight of the man. Arthur watched as the man undid his belt, unbuttoning his pants, his eyes widening when they caught sight of the beast of Charles's cock. The length was slightly over average, nothing special but fuck, the girth. He near pitied the women who'd slept with Charles. He confused pity for envy.

He flushed. Beginning to understand what Charles wanted. "Charles.."

"Yes, Arthur?" Charles traced his jaw, tilting his head further upwards.

"I.. I ain't ever done this before.."

A force tugged upon Charles's lips. He smiled, "Don't worry, I'll guide you.."

A nod from Arthur.

"Use your mouth, love. Hands too. Just lick it, suck it.. yeah.. like that." Love. He'd never called him that before.

Arthur placed a hand at the base of the cock. Fuck, it was huge. He could barely wrap his hand around it. He swirled his tongue around the tip, flicking at it once in a while, simultaneously pumping at the base. He mouthed the sides of the prick before enclosing his lips around the head of his cock. A groan escaped Charles's lips, encouraging Arthur to continue. He tried hard to remember how women he'd been with in his past did it to him but it was so long ago he'd forgotten.

Pushing his head down further he felt the tip of the cock hit the back of his throat, he fought hard not to gag, pushing the cock down his throat 'till his nose was buried in the man's pubes.

"God, you're so beautiful.." Charles whispered. Arthur felt his own erection growing as he pulled his head back and forth, gagging on his cock each time. It felt so good. He never would've thought he could get off on choking on another man's cock but Charles made it feel so good. The hand tangled in his hair began to grip harder, taking control of Arthur's motions as it forced Arthur's head up and and down. The cock hitting the back of his throat repeatedly made him gag. Arthur choked. Tried to pull back but Charles wouldn't let him, thrusting into his mouth as if he was nothing but a hole to relieve himself in.

Fuck, the thought made him harder.

His eyes rolled back as he choked on the cock, allowing Charles to take complete control as he relished in the his groans. "Fuck, fuck.. fuck, You're so good Arthur, so good for me. I'm gonna cum Arthur. Stay put for me, sweet thing.." Charles pushed his head down hard on his cock, not releasing the vigorous grip he had on Arthur. The man moaned, sending vibrations across his cock as he felt the hot, sticky liquid spill down his throat. Finally Charles let go, Arthur pulling back, panting hard as Charles's spend dripped down his chin. His lips reddened from the friction and his tongue stuck out with drool hanging off of it. His eyes glassy and face flushed. The sight was obscene. It nearly made Charles hard again.

"Arthur.." Charles sighed, his heart near implosion from the bliss of this moment. He pulled him up, pressing their lips together as they moved messily in poor attempts of synchronised rhythm. Through sloppily sensuous movements, Arthur panting in-between each slow motion. They stumbled towards the bed, Charles pushing Arthur not so gently down on the thin, old mattress. Finally he pulled away. Arthur panted, "D.. Did I do well?" His voice rasped.

God.. How adorable, "Yes, Arthur," He smiled, pressing a kiss upon his nose, "You were so good Arthur.. So good for me.."

The words unleashed a whine from Arthur, his cock pressing so hard against the fabric of his pants he feared the cloth would tear. Suddenly a palm rubbed at his groin. The moan Arthur let out was more than shameful. He covered his mouth with both hands, embarrassed of the volume of the sound.

"Don't cover your mouth," Charles whispered, palming harder between his thighs, "C'mon.. you made me feel so good, Arthur.. Tell me what I can do for you."

Arthur flushed, he didn't expect to receive any pleasure from this- though, in truth being this intimate with Charles was already far more pleasuring than anything he could ever have in his sad life. But he'd expected to help Charles release stress, doing anything Charles wanted, and once done he'd shamefully jerk off in silence with the thought of Charles's body above his (however far they'd go,) to help him relieve himself.

"I-It's fine Charles. I'm helpin' you get off, you don't gotta worry 'bout me."

"Yeah, but what if getting you off is what gets me off?" He spoke, pressing kisses across his clothed thighs.

"Then.. go ahead."

"Take off your clothes, sweetheart." Fuck, these pet names were getting out of hand. Arthur was enjoying them far too much.

He did as Charles said. With the cold air hitting his freckled skin, he couldn't help but feel so ashamed. Of his body and how turned off Charles might be. He felt too exposed. Charles just stared at him, his eyes never leaving, his gaze never faltering. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Did he just fuck it up? Was Charles so disgusted by his body he couldn't even utter a measly syllable out of his soft, soft lips? Fuck. Of course. He's such an ugly fuckin' bastard, no wonder-

"You're beautiful, Arthur."

"Huh?" He must've misheard him.

"God, Arthur.." He spoke as if breathless, "You're so perfect." He kissed him. Slow and steady, as if trying to take in all of Arthur. As if this moment was going to end if he didnt do so. God, he hoped it'd never end. "You're so beautiful." He whispered, leaving a trail of kisses down to his throbbing, weeping cock as he whispered bits of praise and words of affections. Arthur nearly believed it.

"Have you ever done before, Arthur?" He spoke lowly against his unclothed thighs, sending scalding reverberations across his lightly haired skin.

"Not.. Not with a man, no." He slurred, the effects of the whiskey still weighing heavily upon him, stirring his mind into a hazed blur as it rushed all the blood from there to his cock.

"You do this frequently, then? With women?"

"No, not- not in a long while now."

Arthur gazed blearily at the man whose face had been positioned between his thighs, aware of how vulnerable this position was for himself- as well as how it was so terribly tantalising.

"You," He broke the silence, "You done this before? With men?"

"Yeah. Not too often but it isn't anything too rare."

"I ain't thought you were the kind."

"What kind?"

"Y'know, the-"

"Cocksucking kind?"

Arthur flushed at his bluntness, "Well.. Yeah."

"I don't mind sucking cock. Don't mind fucking anyone with one too. As long as the holes attached to a warm body, I don't mind."

"So I'm just another warm body to you?" Arthur teased, though his heart near cracked open at the thought.

You're so much more than that, Arthur. Charles thought to himself. And his drunk self said exactly that as he pressed more kisses along his jawline, Arthur flushing at the words.

"So- how does this work? Sex with two men."

"One of 'em takes it up the ass."

Arthur's eyes went so wide, Charles feared it'd remain that way.

"And you.." Arthur muttered, "You took it up the ass before?" He asked in hopes of there being a chance he wouldn't have to take Charles's horse cock up his ass.

"Never. The other guys always just happened to want me to do them."

"Oh.." He didn't really like thinking of Charles and other men. Other people.

He opened his mouth to speak before Charles did so, "You don't have to take it up the ass. You already made me feel good, I just want to do the same, Arthur."

In truth he did want to take Arthur in the ass. He wanted to fuck the man so hard he begged for more. He wanted to fuck him into the bed. Hard enough that the rusted springs of the lumpy mattress no longer worked. He wanted the man to forget his own name and for the only thing left, engraved in his mind would be how good Charles made him feel. Oh, how he wanted to ruin the man.

The last sober part of himself had fought every other terribly, drunkenly lusted part of his body saying those few words. Though in truth he did want to pleasure Arthur. It was just that he wanted to fuck him while doing so.

"Will it hurt?" Arthur's raspy voice came.

"What?"

"If I.. took it.. there. Would it hurt?"

"Not if I do it right."

"Okay."

"Okay..?"

"Lord, Charles- Are y'gon'make me say it?"

A smile drew upon his lips, "I wasn't. But now I am."

"You're a bastard, Mr. Smith."

"Bold choice of words for the man who holds your precious orgasm in the palm of his hand."

"You make it sound like a threat. I don't need you to get me off." He spat.

"Really.." Charles leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of Arthur's ear, "You really think I can't just tie you up? Leave you here, splayed out on the bed for whoever comes next. Your lassos right on the ground, at my disposal." The words sent all the blood to his cock, it cried for release as it leaked precum upon Arthur's belly. Charles reached a hand down, rubbing a calloused thumb over the head of the cock, "You like that, Arthur? If I tied you up with your own lasso. While your cock's begging to be touched. Weeping for release. You like that? If I left you here for someone else to find. Someone else to fuck." Charles was bluffing, anyone else who tried to fuck Arthur- let alone touch him wouldn't still be alive to try anything.

"Christ, Charles." He breathed. Each word had sent a shiver that travelled down to his cock, "I want you to fuck me."

"Really. Where are your manners?"

"Please." He gritted out, "Please fuck me, Charles."

"So sweet, aren't you, Arthur?"

Arthur merely rolled his eyes in response.

Charles travelled downwards. Trailing kisses down his neck. Down his torso and up to his ass. Purposefully avoiding the man's terribly hardened cock as he whined for friction. He pressed kisses around the man's puckered hole, earning sweet, sweet moans that'd leaked out of the man's sweet, sweet lips.

Suddenly, his tongue begun to stretch the man's tight ring of muscle, earning a sharp gasp from Arthur. He was invading uncharted territory, savouring the sounds Arthur made and how beautifully his body reacted each time his tongue moved around within him.

Finally he'd pulled away, earning a loud whine from the man writhing beneath him. Grabbing the back of his knees, spreading them further open, he spat on his hole, making a mess as he coated the spit around the hole with his fingers. A finger doused in spit pressed up against his hole, "I'm putting a finger in, Arthur."

Arthur nodded before feeling something stretch him out. The burning sensation was not enough for the man to tell him to stop. It didn't hurt, but it sure as hell hadn't felt good. Why any man would willingly want this was completely unfathomable. But then- if the man was doing it with Charles Smith, he wouldn't mind.

"Does it hurt?" He whispered, pushing the digit in and out of the hole in slow, unhurried motions, taking care not to hurt the man.

Arthur hated being treated so- kindly. So properly taken care of, as if he were something fragile- something worthy of care. It made him feel so pathetic. "No. Put another finger in."

Charles merely hummed in response, slipping out the digit before swiftly pushing two fingers deep within him. Thrusting inwards and out, he kept wondering whether the men who enjoyed taking it up the ass were delusional. No way in hell could this have felt good-

Oh. Oh.

This was good.

"A-Ah.. More- there, Charles." He whined, it felt too good for him to be ashamed of the near ludicrous sounds he let out. Curling his thick fingers upwards, Charles massaged the man's sweet spot, splitting both fingers apart, scissoring him from within as he stretched him apart.

Briskly, he pulled out both fingers and pushed them back in, along with an additional digit as he spread them all out, stretching him out so well the uncomfortably pleasurable burn had morphed into a terribly intensified pleasure. He wasn't aware of the sounds he'd made, all he could focus on was how much Charles's perfect fingers stretched him out.

It wasn't enough. He wanted more.

"Fuck me Charles. P-Please, I need you."

"So polite now, Arthur.." He could hear the smile in Charles's tone as he felt him press more kisses around his collarbone.

"Please, Charles.."

"Since you asked so nicely."

He pulled his fingers out, soaked and wet with his own fluids. Swiftly, he pulled off his shirt and spat on his own cock, aligning its length in-between Arthur's flawlessly imperfect ass cheeks. It rubbed against his hole, he couldn't wait anymore- he felt so empty. So- So-

Full.

Fuck..

Charles had pushed all the way in, from the head to base, he took it all in. He forgot the girth of the man's cock, how thick and heavy it'd laid on his tongue earlier. Fuck. It stretched him out. His cock rubbed at the walls of his ass, just grazing upon his prostate. "Fuck, you're tight.." Charles groaned, placing a hand under his knee, rubbing circles upon the skin with the pad of his thumb in attempts of comfort, "Relax, love.. Just tell me to stop and I will." Arthur nodded.

Despite feeling Arthur relax around his cock, the warmth enveloping him still felt as if it was clenching around him. Threatening him to stay, restraining him from pulling out.

"I'm going to move now, Arthur." Another nod.

Slowly, he pulled out and slowly, he pushed in. Repeating these motions 'till he felt the man completely relax around him. He picked up the pace, thrusting in faster. Harder. Arthur began to whine loudly. Too loud.

Charles moved his legs which had previously wrapped loosely around his hips, upwards. His shoulders just beneath Arthur's knees. The position allowed Charles to hit deeper within him. Every brutal thrust inwards inflicted such terrible abuse upon Arthur's bruised prostate. Arthur loved every bit of it.

Pushing Arthur's knees against his chest, near folding him half, he whispered to the man, "Quiet down, Arthur. We can't have people hearing your sweet noises, now can we?"

Arthur merely babbled incoherent syllables before clamping his hands over his mouth. Adorable.

He hadn't assumed Arthur to take him so literally.

"You're so beautiful, Arthur.." He repeated for likely the millionth time during their encounter. Taking in Arthur's beautifully flushed and freckled face along with his beautifully glassy eyes as tears spilled out of them. He pressed kisses along those tears, tasting the salt on his lips, "So, so beautiful.." He whispered, burying his face in the crook of the man's neck, sucking and biting at his neck, leaving bruises and marks, that he was sure wouldn't leave for at least a week.

Arthur unclasped his hands from his mouth, "Ch-Charles, I-I'm- I'm gonna-"

"Go ahead, sweetheart.." He mumbled into his skin.

Arthur's moans grew louder and far more risqué as he wrapped his arms around the back of Charles's neck. "A-Ah! More, more, Charles! Pl..ease- There! Right there!"

As his pleas grew needier, his whines grew more lubricious. His intensifying grip around his neck reminding Charles of his strength. Despite how strong the man was, he submitted so willingly to Charles. Oh, how he loves the man.

Nearing his release, he let out louder cries that practically flooded the enclosed space, he didn't bother to silence Arthur, now uncaring of the possibility of them both being hanged if someone were to discover the intimacy of the position the were in. Instead, he revelled in the sweet symphony of his whines, his cries and his moans. He relished in the scent of sweat coating Arthur's olive skin and the sweet scent of sex as he fucked faster and harder into Arthur.

Hot, white cum spurted in-between their bodies. Onto Arthur's abdomen and Charles's toned belly. Dazing through Arthur's post-orgasm haze, he didn't feel Charles stop. Instead he fucked him harder. Faster. Arthur felt like he was going to burst from such overstimulation, "C-Charles, a-ahh, stop! Stop, stop, stop please- it's, it's too much!" But he didn't stop. Instead, a hand wrapped around his worn out cock, pumping it hard as his erection reformed.

"You can take it, Arthur.. You promised to make me feel good, didn't you?" He continued fucking him, rubbing hard on the terribly sensitive crown of his cock.

"Yes- Yes, Charles.." He moaned, "A-Ahh- I can't cum no more, Charles! Please-"

"You can, love.. C'mon.."

Arthur merely whined in response, squirming powerlessly beneath him. It was all too much. Everything felt like too much. Arthur soon felt his orgasm bubbling up as Charles fisted his once-again hardened cock. Feeling Charles pounding harshly within him whilst pumping his cock was too much- He was gonna- gonna-

"I-I'm gonna cum, Arthur.." He heard the low pitch of Charles's voice.

"M-Me too." He forced out, lacking the mundane ability to string together proper sentences due to having his brains fucked out by the man above him.

He let out the loudest moan known to man. It near shook the entire saloon but he was far too fucked out to be embarrassed of the noise. The man was utterly debauched.

The warmth of Charles nearly depleted as he felt the man about to pull out before he wrapped his legs tighter around him, "Cum- inside.."

The sight of Arthur was enough to make Charles heed his plea without a thought. He hummed, fucking him harder as he chased his release.

Finally- through his own orgasm, he felt a warm, viscous liquid released inside him. It felt so good. His load felt never ending, it continued to spurt out all over his ass after Charles pulled out. Such a position should've made him feel degraded, pathetic, instead- he felt completely raptured. The feeling of Charles's semen all over him nearly made him hard again.

Staring at his own thick cum spilling out of Arthur's so very reddened and swollened asshole, the white droplets sliding the bruised skin of both his inner and outer thighs that pressed so tightly together. He couldn't help but admire the work he'd done.

His eyes trailed upwards from Arthur's terribly abused hole to his wonderfully rubescent face; taking in how his eyes brimmed with saltwater as they so gracefully fell down his rosy, freckled cheeks. As if he'd lost himself in the mere sight on Arthur. In his red, swollened lips; glistening and nitid, wet from their shared , sloppy kisses. They parted slightly, taking in shallow breaths, panting from the sex mere moments before.

"Why're you lookin' at me like that?" Arthur spoke, his voice raspy, never-changing.

"Like what?" Charles responded breathlessly.

"Like you wanna goddam' eat me." A chuckle from Charles.

"Maybe I do." He pushed apart Arthur's bruised thighs and leaned into him, pressing more kisses at his already purpling jaw. "Charles Smith." He whispered, his tone meaning to be teasing but coming out broken and breathy.

"Arthur Morgan." He said in response at the shell of the man's ear.

Charles rolled off of Arthur, laying at his side. "I can't believe that just happened." Charles sighed ever-so blissfully, as if all his troubles had just been washed away and the sex they just had had granted him the secrets of eternal life.

"Y'mean- the fuckin'? Or the fact that it was with a man."

"The fact that it was with you."

"Oh." Arthur's eyes began to avoid his gaze, his cheeks beginning to redden as he muttered several minor words, "I can't believe it too well either."

"Y'know.." Charles turned to him, a hand reaching out to trace his cheekbone with his knuckles, "I've been wantin' this for so long now."

"You're kiddin'"

"Not at all." He swallowed, the alcohol that continued to coarse through his veins gave him courage to utter these pathetically buried feelings. Feelings he'd never admit to if well and sober. It was now or never. "I.. I've been interested in you for a while now."

"Since Colter?"

"Since Blackwater."

"You- Charles.." He stammered, unable to find the words to say, Charles merely chuckled at his bashfulness.

"It's alright Arthur. I knew those feelings would go nowhere," He'd uttered, Arthur missed the hint of sadness within his words, "The moment I heard you speak- your quick wit as well as your sarcastic quips, they immediately charmed me. You were just so oddly charismatic, and your beauty- Arthur. Your beauty. You were breathtaking. You are breathtaking."

Arthur couldn't utter a single word, his face merely continued to overheat as his mouth stood agape. "In Colter, when Mr. Pearson asked you to go hunting with me- My heart absolutely flipped. I jumped at the chance."

"Yeah, it was weird that you wanted to help me out. Y'know 'cause o' your hand an' whatnot."

"You wanna know how I injured my hand, Arthur?"

"Been wonderin' for a while now."

"In Blackwater, durin' the heist- when you came to the boat, I saw a fella'. Probably a Pinkerton, wasn't sure. But he aimed his gun at you, I didn't think- I just put my hand at the barrel then knocked 'im out after."

A pause. His eyes traced the apple at Arthur's throat, watching how it bobbed as he swallowed. Watching how he took Charles's hand off his face and held it so very gently. Arthur Morgan. The Van der Linde gang's toughest, most intimidating member. The man he'd just fucked. That same man held him so, so softly. Tracing the grooves and bumps of his dark knuckles as well as the veins behind his terribly calloused hand. Then he spoke, looking up to reach his eyes, "Shoulda let me get shot."

Charles merely smiled, "I know. I'm a fool."

They laid beside each other, bathing it the afterglow of their previous activities. The only thing on both of their minds being the unknown mutual hope that it wouldn't be the last time they were so intimate. So Arthur broke the silence. "You tired, Charles?"

"Not.. in particular."

"Think you can go another round?"

An imperceptible smile, quirked upon Charles's lips, "I could go for several more rounds."

With those words, Arthur got up and straddled the man all in one swift motion. He leaned downwards, pressing their lips together for the millionth time.

His hands reached down to Charles's pants, "You gotta get these off though."

"No rush. We have all night.

The thought of Charles's fucking him into the mattress all the way 'till morning made his dick twitch. He kissed Charles once more, whispering through the kiss, "I wanna have our whole life."

He took a breath. "Let's have that then."

When the sun rose, casting it's amber hues across the rented lodging of their room and bathing the town with its slight warmth, Arthur's eyes fluttered open, wandering blearily around the foreign room before landing on the sleeping face of Charles.

Charles.

Charles?

He stared at the man beside him, the strong, sculpted arms wrapped around him. He couldn't move if he tried. The memories of the night before blurred through his mind, a flush crawling up his neck. Untrusting of his own intoxicated mind, he looked beneath the thin, cream blanket that barely covered them as it was clearly meant for merely a single person. As if their naked bodies pressed together and the near dried cum spilling out of his ass wasn't enough proof, the sight of Charles's bare cock underneath the blanket surely was.

Attempting to shuffle within Charles's death gripping bear hug, still processing the knowledge of getting fucked by the man the night before. Multiple times. The memory of Charles's cum in his mouth still lingered. The taste of salt and texture of slime that would've made him puke if it was anyone else but last night- was absolutely intoxicating.

With curious eyes he looked at Charles, taking in every curve and crevice on his face. Seeing things he'd never seen before. Every pore was visible, as was every spot of hair that trailed from his chin to his jaw. The memory of Charles's words to him as he laid beside him upon the white, dirtied mattress sheets made Arthur's heart absolutely dance. In truth, he'd felt the same. Ever since speaking to him at Colter, all that lingered within his mind was the faint thought of Charles. If the night before hadn't happened he'd never admit the fact he felt this way about another man. He didn't even know how he felt.

Suddenly Charles's eyes opened, blinking a few times as he looked at Arthur with half-lidded eyes. A lopsided smile bloomed upon his face, "G'morning, Arthur." He leaned nearer, pressing a kiss on his lips. The action made his heart thud so hard upon his ribcage he feared it'd explode. "Mornin'.." He forced out.

He didn't know how to act, considering the fact that they'd fucked continuously throughout dusk, passing out just before dawn. He hadn't had sex in years. Not since Eliza's death.

Charles merely continued to run a hand through Arthur's sandy, uncut locks, long overdue for a haircut. "I still can't believe last night." He heard Charles murmur.

"Neither can I."

A smile from Charles. "Thank you, Arthur." He looked at Charles, into his eyes, noticing the slightest bit a sorrow within them. As if unwillingly acceptant of the fact that last night was and inevitably would be nothing more than a one night stand. Charles parted his lips, as if wanting to say more. But the words never left those soft lips.

"What for?"

"Last night. Helping me blow off steam."

Oh.

Was that all it was to Charles? Were all the sweet nothings said the night before just a result of too much whiskey?

"Arthur?" Charles's voice, "You alright?"

Before he could stop it, the words ran out of his mouth, "I don't want last night to be the last."

"What?"

"I-" Fuck. He'd already said all that. Might as well. "I wanna do it again. With you. "

"Right now?"

"No- Charles. I mean-" He was never one for words. He wasn't even that good at English himself. "Arthur."

He looked up. Charles smiled.

He spoke.

"I'd like that."

"Yeah?" Arthur had never been the emotional kind but fuck. The knowledge that it wouldn't be the end made him near tear up. Or maybe getting fucked in the ass had shredded up his masculinity.

Nah.

"Yeah." Charles couldn't stop smiling. Fuck, the man was handsome.

"But- ignoring what I just said, you ain't too tired for another fuck, are you?"

Charles only laughed, crawling on top of Arthur and smashing their lips together through the laughter that bubbled throughout.

[ssavinggrace]

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒔— 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔.

hey !~ welcome to my blog ☆★-

•about me•

-----••☆☆••------

my names - thalia, cassidy, billie, cyrus, piper, jules, cobain, orion, darcy, harley, finn, mavis, gwen, ash, vi, athena, alex, eddie, sydney, jasper, robin, tori, emilio, raye, and august

-----••☆☆••-----

i use they/she/he/it pronouns, and I'm genderqueer

-----••☆☆••------

Im a minor (don't freak out)

-----••☆☆••------

i am a demisexual lesbian, I'm in a relationship

-----••☆☆••------

my sideblong for anything i dont want on my main blog is @fall-0f-grace

my pjo dedicated sideblog is @hungryd0gs-arenever-l0yall

•more info•

-----••☆☆••------

interests: osemanverse. daisy jones and the six. fourth wing. minecraft. atsv. msmischief. percy jackson. roblox. mytholgy. poetry. writing. disenchantment. fiona and cake. adventure time.

-----••☆☆••------

other things I like: my gf!!. brooklyn nine nine. arcane. fourth wing. iron flame. nimona.

-----••☆☆••------

artists i like. car seat headrest. lil darkie. freddie dredd. bad omens. artemas. hozier. noah kahan. twenty one pilots. ghostmane. mothica. post malone. billie eilish. alex g. tv girl. 6arelyhuman. asteria. ayesha erotica. gracie abrahms. alot more.

-----••☆☆••------

chronic procrastinator

-----••☆☆••-----

hobbies: drawing. writing. writing songs. reading. making jewelry. sculpting with clay. procrastinating.

-----••☆☆••------

my discord is ssavinggrace. my spotify is ssavinggrace. my main on roblox is r0ckstarrzz, and I don't plan on giving out my insta, unless we're close.

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒂 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆 𝑫𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝑶𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒅? 🌣

[lildreamycyclone]

Some headcanons cuz i'm flipping bored (tw for dermatophagia mention)

Poob has their own diary! Its covered in stickers and Poob writes in it with a glitter gel pen

Wallter's favorite type of tea is black tea with milk and sugar. So fricking Bri'ish

Split really likes cheese-cakes!

Kasper has an old Deviant-art acc, where he posted his furry scenecore oc and oc x canon content he is embarrased of (his oc is named Darki, and he was mainly shipped with Kuromi)

Prototype sleeps with a night-lamp (moon shaped one).

Mark is the master at dad jokes. If Lampert said "So much germs, i'm disgusted" Mark would say "Hey disgusted, 'm dad!"

Kasper has a bad case of dermatophagia, he chews and bits of the skin of his fingers when stressed. That's why he has bandages on his fingers. The problem increased when he was Infected...

Pest's fav horror movie is "Possibly in Michigan". He also kinda likes RayRay Vision.

[shabeeboothedrawingender]

Did you receive any writing prompts? I'll give you one! Darkstache but it's Wilford getting jealous of Dark!Chica getting all of Dark's attention lmao.

Jealousy - Short Darkstache fic requested by an anon --------------------- QUICK MENTION! Sorry this was so late, I was uninspired for a long time, right now I've got ten other things in mind so apologies! --------------------- Wilford always thought Dark was a cat person, so you can imagine his surprise when Dark brought home a golden retriever. He had been paying attention to the demonic dog for weeks, and Wilford was getting bored… and a little jealous. He would never admit this to Dark though, never. The man would rip his heart out, probably. “Darky, are you ever away from that dog?” He raised his eyebrow as he looked at the golden retriever, it had the same aura effect as Dark. “No. She’s quite clingy. Plus, I don’t think Chica is doing any harm.” He said, petting the dog beside him. Wil crossed his arms in annoyance. “Where’s my attention?!” He huffed, childishly turning his head away and pouting. Dark chuckled. “Excuse you? Are you jealous over a dog?” Wilford rolled his eyes and sat on the floor, there was no room for him on the couch. “Everything that animal can do, I can do better.”

Dark rolled his eyes. “Get off the floor, Wil.” Wilford continued to sit on the floor, still pouting and crossing his arms like a child. Dark! Chica was still comfortably taking up half of the couch, resting her head on Dark’s lap as she slept, she was a pretty big dog. “Is it because she’s loud?! I can be loud too!” He yelled. “Or because she can cuddle? Or because she’s obedient?! I can do those things too!” Dark sighed. “Wil, you’re getting way too heated over a dog.” Dark patted his lap. “C’mere.” Wilford immediately smiled and went to sit on his rightful spot on the couch.  

[blurrymango]

"All art is political" is the creativity killer. Don't let that bitch trick you into thinking you have to have a statement in your art or writing. Art and writing and music =/= inherently political. Thinking that every piece is, is very dumb.

Eminem and Lil Darkie making songs about politics and drugs is different from Freddie Dredd making songs about killing people is different from Tool making songs about addiction and trauma is different from $uicideBoy$ making songs about addiction and suicide is different from Haken making songs about. Whatever the ffuck their songs are about. Is different from Crywank making songs about being depressed is different from Gorillaz making songs about society and/ whatever the ffuck Captain Chicken is about.

Ok. So. I listen to music about violence a lot. Huh. Anyway.

Porn art is not political. Hentai is not political.

I Hate Fairyland is a comic with cartoon gore satire about childish fairytale tropes and also a story about longing to grow up. Black Butler is a gothic dark manga about a child being thrust into a world of crime and choosing to commit down that path. They're both different in tone and execution and they both ROCK.

American Psycho is a satire on yuppie stock market men and vanity in 90s as well as a story about a mentally unstable man killing people and becoming more mentally unstable the more he tries to be normal. That is. Political. But it's moreso a commentary on society, rather than an overt political message.

Like there's a difference between drawing a character who is punk and drawing a character who is "punk" in the way hardcore leftists think of it as. There's a difference between art of girls kissing to "make misogynists mad" or whatever and making art of girls kissing because you like to draw girls kissing. There's a difference between racebending a character to "fix" them or "make racists mad" and racebending a character to see how they'd look as a different race.

"All art is political" is stupid, because someone drawing gore art of anime girls or someone drawing a shota getting his ass pounded is not in fact political.

You don't have to have characters saying "SCREW TRUMP" or "VOTE DEMOCRAT" you can just have them saying "man I want some dick" or "this weed sucks you gave me bad weed I'm not even slightly high I need to kill you." You don't have to have characters saying "TRANS RIGHTS" but you do need to have them saying "kill TERFs, every single transphobe and radfem needs to die."

Draw shota porn. Draw anime girl gore. Draw dudes with top surgery scars and tdicks. Draw girls with big tits and even bigger dicks. But don't claim it's activism. Because it's not. It's ok. You can draw trans characters without making it a statement.

Can art be political? Yes. Should all art be viewed from a political or ideological lens? No, and ffuck off with that shit.

[evitamylove]

im gonna vomit i just saw a post of someone writing Ben referring to dark link as darky.

[thedarkone121]

“I think Dad’s sleeping… With his eyes open?” Anne-Marie turned back to her Dad, confusion and concern were slowly overtaking her expression. “Dad? Are you awake?”

Then, to her relief, her Dad spoke up, albeit muffled by the pillow squishing his face.

“Rachel, can you take Annie down to the parlor? I’ll be there shortly…” It was here that any relief Anne-Marie had, it washed away.

She had heard Dad tired before, where his real voice would slip out instead of the other voice he put on. He was still talking in his other voice. But something about it was wrong. Like it was almost lifeless.

This wasn’t Dad’s tired voice.

It was like he wasn’t all there.

—

Two years into her adoption, eight-year-old Anne-Marie Jekyll witnesses her Dad during his worst days. Though she may not understand what’s going on, she’ll be there. While a light may not be able to brighten everything in a room, it still manages to shine on the things that are there.

—

Who’s ready for some father-daughter angst and fluff? 😊

[stealth-liberal]

While Jumbler on this site focuses massively on left wing issues and left wing sins (of which Jew Hatred is paramount) I live in a red area, so my life and the lives many other Jews just like me are different.

Jews like us have MAGA nutbags come up to us, apropos of NOTHING, and try to get us to agree with them about the CRAZIEST islamphobic bullshit you've ever heard in your life. For Jews like us, this is the only time right wing antisemites try to do anything other than terrify us or try to bully us out of our homes and neighborhoods, or to bully our children out of the schools. And it's so clearly a trap that they actually think we're stupid enough to fall for, that we might actually play respectability politics for them. That we'll be the "good Jew" that they can point to that they know, so as to defend themselves from accusations of antisemitism or straight being a neo-nazi.

I haven't met a Jew yet who plays along. For Sephardim, MENA, Mizrahi, and Beta Israel Jews... it's so very clear they want them to play "the good darkie" and for many Ashkenazi Jews, it's so clear they want them to twist themselves into knots to prove that they're "white like you". It's a losing game. No Jew can be "the good darkie" enough for them. No Jew can be white enough for them. They will ALWAYS toss us into the fire.

In my city, we have Jews and Muslims, and we don't have the option to tear each other apart. There is an embedded hate element here, and for the most part, we watch each other's backs. It isn't always perfect, but I don't mind watching my Muslim neighbors back, and they don't mind watching mine, and so on and so forth.

Why am I writing about this? Because since the war in Israel began, I have had some stomach churning experiences in my town. Many of them some right wing fuck nugget trying to get me to agree that we should do some sort of violent act towards Muslims in this country because... blah, blah, blah. And when I back away and vehemently don't agree, they practically turn purple with rage and yell at me. I live in a city that Marjorie Taylor Greene visited on her Jewish Space Laser tour. So it's just a day ending in Y for me. It's clear they want to scare me, but I used to be a Marine, don't let the makeup fool you, I can take care of myself easily. That kind of thing doesn't scare me.

But I want to be clear. I hate Hamas with every fiber in my body. I support Israel's right to exist and to defend itself. I do not, nor have I ever hated Palestinians. They're just people, individuals. I do not, nor have I ever hated Muslims. They're just people, individuals. No Muslim that I've ever known has made me feel unsafe, hated, or in any way fearful. I've spent too much of my adult life in areas with small or even tiny Jewish populations to turn away someone who's willing to reach out and watch my back. I think most of the Muslims I know have had the same situations.

So if one more fucking right-wing antisemite/islamaphobe comes up to me and tries to get me to agree to some Muslim hatred nonsense... I swear to G-d, they're getting my hands in their teeth. Same goes for online encounters. Though instead of hands, you'll get blocked and reported.

I have been dealing with intense antisemitism both in my real life town and online. I refuse to add islamaphobia to that shitty cocktail. Go find some other putz, I'm not the one. I'm heartbroken and enraged right now. Don't try me. I'm not your fucking pawn. Jews are not your scape goats nor your pawns.

[breadandbloodybutter]

Sometimes, I see people saying they wish they could take Hope's place. And I wonder about that.

Don't get me wrong, I love me some toxic writing/shipping dynamics so on and so forth. And all is well and good in a fictional sense. But I suppose, thinking too hard on Hope's situation, the empathy side of me feels sad.

Hope feels like something shiny Raphael saw one day and convinced himself he must have it at any costs. Like a princess locked in the basement, arms and legs magically strung up. Given a dreamcatcher to terrify and claw through her sanity. She speaks of being in the boudoir, but never by choice.

It feels on the darky ends of murky waters, and a true testament to what 'dedication' can do. It's referenced here and there about Raphael's drive, the determination not to be bested - and bested by Hope as well.

Do we want to be the object of Raphael's romantic obsessions? Do we truly understand the depths of what that involves? Possible sweet gestures, sided with casual torture of youths just for petty reasons? Demanding that your attention be on him and him alone?

Of course, this is only meant as a hypothetical thought excessive, not to call out, shame, or say yay or nay to anything at all. Moreso wondering the dark hole that stretches from the Raphael that presents to the world, to the Raphael that is capable of so many heinous things in the privacy of the master's own home.

[zmediaoutlet]

in the tags of your rb what did you mean by “ao3 house style”? sorry if it’s obvious 😭

oh it's probably not, no worries. Unfortunately it's one of those things that someone else said to me and I instantly knew what they meant, and now find very hard to explain in a way that is both a) coherent and b) not mean. So uh, hm.

there's a style of writing that's very very prominent in fanfiction. Everyone copies each other because most of what they're reading is fic, and so the stories start to all take on a really similar gloss of how plots go, how characters react to things, how characters sound both in their dialogue and in how the narrative describes things. A lot of stories, you could find-and-replace the names of these characters to characters from another fandom entirely, and you wouldn't really notice a difference in how the story felt other than in some random details (an Impala vs a Jeep, say).

It's very... redolent of the light romcom. Cute snappy dialogue. References to pop culture that's relevant to the writer & readership but not necessarily anything the characters would or should know. Stories hit the same beats and have the same concerns. Very... pastel. Breezy, surface-level. Generic, but generic in the meaning both of 'wow this is like everything else' and of 'this has become a genre in itself and it is hitting those beats to perfection'.

I'm given to understand that there's a readership out there who are looking for these types of stories specifically -- like, it really doesn't matter who the characters are and what the fandom is, because we can sink into this fic as comfort food and enjoy it regardless. This is not at all at all at all how I read anything but hey, it'd be a funny ol' world if we were all alike, etc.

(*Note: it's not like darky darkerton angst and miseryguts sadness and anti-fluff are magically the only kind of fic that's allowed, either. You can have wildly distinct, characterful, delightful writing that's pure fluff romcom. But the distinction maybe lies in how you can tell the writer cares about these characters and this story rather than copy-pasting some details on top of the writing equivalent of a Starbucks iced latte. Lots of people love those! But they are all the same, even if the heart the barista drew on the cup was real cute, and I'm just... looking for something else.)

[billkaulitzwife]

can you pleeasee do more johnny nsfw hc's? i love your writing! thank youuu

Johnny Cade (NSFW)

warnings!

swearing, mentions of sh, scars, overall sexual content, p in v sex, loss of v-card

Now Playing: rap music

he probably wld thrust on every beat man

Johnny is a sucker for neck kisses

He'd probably give the best fuckin hickeys

When he's bottom, he loves when you ride him and call him puppy names

He makes sure he doesn't hurt you too much

like???

gentleman who??

He's so cute when you give him head like

He squirms

moans

whines

AUGHHH

"call the whimping johnny hotline"

"I CANT THEY KNOW ME THEY KNOW MY VOUCE THEYLL KNOW ME"

anyways

Johnny would do anything to love on you before sex

Cuddles, kisses, hugs, ANYTHING

He has a death wish sometimes

"Please, Y/N, please hurt me"

he loves when you get rough

but

he hates when he's rough

his fav position is doggy style or missionary

johnny begged you to take his virginity.

like when he found out it was normal for boys his age to be having sex

he loved on you too much

johnny seriously didnt wanna ruin the bond between yall

but

babes youre too hot

ykwim.

anyways.

HE LIKES HIS HAIR PULLED ON

HE LOVES YOU IN GENERAL

"Y/N if you feel uncomfortable at any poi-... w-woah.."

"do i look bad, johnny..?"

"you're beautiful..."

puppy eyes

he'd give you lustful puppy eyes whenever he saw your body in all its glory

he loves your sh scars.

LIKE NOT IN A BAD WAY

BUT LIKE

"darlin' youre so strong, im so proud of you"

guys im creaming rn.

he'd play lana del rey during sex

this.

hes automatically horny when youre changing your shirt

seeing your gorgeous body

(SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL, GOLDEN).

((YES I READ UR MIND)).

but the moment he lays his eyes on

Y

O

U

... hes a flustered mess

i mean hes like that anyways.

❤️🫶❤️🫶❤️🫶❤️🫶❤️🫶❤️

OKAY GOLDENS IMMA WORK ON THE OTHER TWO...

THANK YOU ANON FOR THE ASK, I LOVE YOU🫶

you and johnny fr:

[bohemian-nights]

They dont even hide their racism anymore

https://www.tumblr.com/drakaripykiros130ac/740128372398669824?source=share

Yeah, another anon already sent that to me a couple of days ago. Just report them for hate speech. That’s all that really can be done because people like this won’t stop unless they get formally reprimanded.

I must admit though I am starting to find this whole situation to be a comedy of ironies.

These people sound like their beloved queen and misogynistic maesters they allegedly hate and think are liars when they go on about how Daemon would never touch the darkie—I mean Nettles with a ten foot pole.

Personally, I wouldn’t be spazzing out about a ship I know for sure isn’t canon or it being canon in a show I supposedly hate(cause again it’s not canon), but do you boo!

While we are here, they also need to stick with one script because one moment they are screaming how there is no such thing as Black and white people in the ASOIAF universe, there is no racism in F&B, that the Targaryens aren’t racist colonizers, that we are trying to weaponize racism to attack their queen, and Nettles is without a doubt Valyrian, then the next they writing bullcrap like this.

Which one is it cause it can’t be both🙃

I don’t want to take it there, but I will. Even if Daemon was a racist(I think he’s prejudice and Nettles helped him see some things), racism has never stopped someone from being attracted to the people who they hate/are oppressing.

Daemon definitely wouldn’t be the first man upholding white supremacy(or Valyrian supremacy in this case) and then when the lights go down he’s fucking the person who he thinks is inferior.

Again that’s not the situation(before y’all get any ideas, don’t try it; out of everyone Daemon saved Nettles and put her first so if I hear someone comparing him in situation to an enslaver or what happened during Jim Crow I will scream), but Mrs. Epps whole argument doesn’t even come close to tracking with reality(which again is why she is spazzing out).

[v4ampbabe]

｡‧˚ʚINTRO POSTɞ˚‧｡

welcome to my little cyberscape i abuse every 5 minutes seven hours a day ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

after starting to interact more with people here i thought an intro page would be very much appreciated. i go by deia or darky though i haven’t used the latter one in yEARS

─⋆⋅DNI ⋅⋆ ──

minors; bigots; age players; “maps”; extremist christians; any sort of phobes, incels or ableist creeps; right wingers; pro-lifers; pro ed blogs

⋆｡‧˚ʚABOUT ME ɞ˚‧｡⋆

i’ve been on tumblr for 10 years, but only started being more active this past year after a really rough time; i’m turning 23 this winter and will start my master’s degree in clinical psychology soon; i’m balkan!(have fun figuring which kind while i drink from my goblet of blood); still feel stuck in 2014 (my prime); horror media is a big part of my personality so im a big nerd when it comes to that; have a visceral feminine need to self insert myself in every piece of media i consume (and i never do it in a healthy way); my pronouns are she/her/xe but i don’t really mind if y’all use any others; im bi with a heavier preference for girls

i used to have many hobbies like drawing, reading and writing fanfiction, but uni burnt me out so badly i barely pick them up; i’m drawing like once in a while, rarely writing and sometimes i pick a book if my eyes don’t hurt so much lol

i’m in a bunch of fandoms i talked about here before, but right now i’m hyperfixating on creepypasta again (they bring me lots of nostalgia and comfort)

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

stuff i like (a lot):

gothic literature

horror media (books; movies; games anything)

merlin and ahs

baldur’s gate3

2014 lmao i wish i would go back and be emo again (i will)

alt music

stuffed toys and monster high dolls

flip phones

autumn and my edgy sweaters

dark make up

dnd

roleplay

watching movies over discord with people (if we’re moots i’m BEGGING you!!!)

zelda games (only played OOT and Majora’s Mask on my nintendos)

dark romance (stay down and put the gun away please i am literally just a girl)

taking silly personality quizzes!

if it wasn’t clearly enough – yapping; i talk a lot.

extra fun facts about me: i have stargardt, severe allergies, myopia and look like a stereotypical annoying nerd (which i am); if there is something i miss more than anything on the internet is baptismonfire’s content

⋆｡‧˚ʚ SOCIALS ɞ˚‧｡⋆

instagram

letterboxd

spotify