#first time posting writing eep

[deviousdiesel]

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[good-boy-ren]

putting this on this blog bc the og vn was an eroge, but F.ATE/STAY NI.GHT IS GETTING AN OFFICIAL ENG RELEASE ON THE SWITCH OURGHHGHHG!!!!! IN 2024!!!!! BASED ON THE RE.ALTA NU.A PORT!!!! i fucking called it as soon as they announced tsu.kihime remake and eng release, but oh my god i'm....!!

[a little ramble and talking about wanting to read it w ren, it was just too long to NOT put under a readmore]

jan 30th was the 20th anniversary for the og vn. i got into it shortly after its release (though i couldn't play it until years later, when a fan patch was released), and i would get home from school and sit on forum threads where people were sharing official art and summaries and videos. i suddenly feel so old. but. the fact that i'm getting my beloved back cancels that out and makes me feel 20yrs younger.

s.aber and t.aiga and r.in were my bi awakenings as a teen, s.aber especially. and then s.aber also became a trans awakening for me much, much later KJNDKJN.

i want to reread f.sn with rennnnnn!!! i want to see him squirm during the bad ends!!!!! >:3 i want to find out who his favs are! i want to hear his takes on the story and characters and relationships! i want him to tell me which noble phantasm is the most interesting to him! i want to show him my fate figure collection and watch him get excited over them! it'd be fun to pull out my old sketchbooks and show him the art i drew of the characters + my characters dressed as them!!!!!!! waaaaaah!!!! ;__;

[potatobugz]

More Beatstuck things!!! aka just miscellaneous doodles of ideas I have.

The gist of Beatstuck is that it's a jsab/homestuck sorta crossover au where the shapes play a version of Sburb. because . mixing my interests together is really fun. The four player shapes and the jsab bosses are playing separate games, essentially their goal is to merge both of their sessions together so they can finish the game and create a new universe! Shenanigans ensue.

Jsab doesn't really have a ton of like,, concrete lore. so I am using the age old technique of "making shit up" <3 I have a ton of jsab headcanons just lying around & I'm so glad I get to finally use them

anywho, there a few things I've changed since the last posts. Skya is the thief of void since I thought it fit better and Cirk isn't the bard of time anymore (though I haven't figured out what their classpect would be instead yet) I am still. sorta conceptualizing all this so be prepared for certain stuff to change at random </3

because I didn't wanna make this post super duper long, there's a few bonus doodles under the cut (mostly of like character dynamics n things like that I think) :]

dear jsab fans I am so sorry for putting home suck in your tag

[appalachiancowboy99]

After Dark

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Established relationship, high honor, grumpy Arthur in desperate need of release, 18+, MDNI (Minors DO NOT ENTER)

Arthur comes back to camp later than usual, with nothing but a bad disposition and a desperate need to release his pent-up frustrations.

Warnings: longer read, sexual content (oral, unprotected p in v, rough sex), mentions of violence, mentions of anger, and dabbles in sensual fluff.

Gif by: @sunwingsunset

A/N: Thank you so much to @photo1030 for not only being my sounding board in the never-ending chaos that is my writing process but also for being such a wonderful friend through it all. So grateful for you, don't know what I'd do without ya, C! <3 Thank you so much to @rivetingrosie4 for being an inspiration for my little works and being so supportive of my creative endeavors, not to mention the kind generosity of your friendship! Forever grateful for to have met you! @tortureddpoett I'm so excited to explore this budding friendship with you! Thank you so much for showing so much excitement for my work, IT MAKES ME EXCITED (EEP!). It means an absolute ton to me <3 @mr-inkslinger your friendship has been an absolute delight to explore! Thank you for posting that toe-curling smut that always has me giggling and kicking my feet! So happy to have met ya! And thank each and every single one of you for liking my first drabble and expressing interest in this next one. I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to publish this post, but hopefully, the next ones won't take me as long. I'll forever be grateful for your patience and kindness <3 But now, enough of my babbling, y'all enjoy yourselves with this one- I know I did ;)

Fuck. From the second he opened his eyes, he knew that the day was going to be fucking awful; his neck had a crick in it, his head was pounding from what little sleep he’s received over the last few nights, and now he had to trudge back out into the goddamn muggy heat to work. One disaster after another had piled up; everything that could have gone wrong, went so terribly awry that he wound up farther away from camp than he originally intended and managed to add a solid fifteen-dollar bounty to the mounting collection resting atop his head. Dutch had sent him out on a wild goose chase, following a lead from Micah that, of course, ended up being a complete waste of time. And that meant he was coming back to camp empty-handed, which almost certainly meant he'd be on the receiving end of another one of Dutch's lectures on the endless responsibilities placed upon his shoulders. He dreaded it, wanted to avoid spiraling down another conversation that would end in Dutch questioning his faith in the ever-evolving plan he’s found himself working on these days.

As if he needed any of that horseshit tonight. All he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet, a chance to catch his breath after the disaster of a day he'd just had, but instead, he was headed back to camp with nothing but bruises, a bloody lip, and a bad disposition to show for his efforts. Trees and other bits of scenery whipped by in a blur as Arthur spurred his horse onward, his surroundings melting together into a muddy mess of shapes cast by moonlight. He passed through New Hanover, his furious pace leading him down the familiar roads of Lemoyne, reaching the clearing outside of camp. Lenny and John are the first to spot Arthur approaching the thicket of trees disguising Clemens Point's main entrance. “Hey, who goes there?” Lenny’s voice echoes through the forest, bouncing off the thicket until it reaches Arthur’s ears.

“‘S me.” Arthur grunts out through gritted teeth, clearly not in the mood for any chit-chat. Even underneath the shadow of leaves and limbs, the scowl etched upon his face is easily distinguishable, a clear sign for anyone with any common sense to give him a wide berth for the rest of the night. Lenny and John, both, had a pretty good idea of what might happen when Arthur steps foot into camp and they don't want any part of it. As a result, they give each other a little knowing glance and stay in the treeline, preferring to avoid the impending shitstorm and let Dutch or Hosea deal with it instead. He strides past them in a fit of frustration, dismounting his mare with a jerky movement before she's even come to a complete stop. Kieran spots him and hesitantly approaches. That poor fool. "H-Hey, Mr. Morgan. Would ya like me to unsaddle the 'ol gal here?" Kieran's question was nothing more than an innocent query, but his expression turned the young man into a nervous wreck. If looks could kill, Arthur’s certainly could; his steely eyes are set ablaze with annoyance and irritation as he casts a hateful glance in Kieran's direction. Even Kieran knew better than to talk to Arthur when he was in this state, knowing that it would only lead to suffering at the hands of his unbridled wrath. Kieran’s eyes immediately darted to his feet, desperate to avoid Arthur’s icy gaze as his fingers trembled with the frayed ends of rope in his hands. Quickly as to not start any trouble for himself, Kieran took hold of the mare's reigns and led her away to the field of horses, putting as much distance between himself and Arthur as he could. A slight pang of guilt runs through him when he sees the way that Kieran high-tailed it out of his line of sight. He doesn't want to be harsh to the boy, he's been a useful asset to the gang, but his temper is just too far gone for him to muster up an apology. As fast as the angering thoughts snapping through his mind, Arthur turns on his heels and storms into camp in search of Dutch. His boots furiously hit the grass and reddened Lemoyne dirt as he passes by a few of the wandering eyes from those still awake at this late hour. Charles casts him a wary glance, and so does Sadie, but neither of them cares to look long enough to entertain what's about to happen. He passes by his own wagon and heads straight to Dutch's tent. Dutch is nowhere to be seen, yet the lamp light inside casts its soft golden glow upon the closed canvas flaps of the tent, indicating that he might be inside. Not wasting any more time than he has to, Arthur approaches the tent, not bothering to stop and think until it's too late. His hand raises, readying to peel back the canvas flap, when all of a sudden he hears the sweet amorous sounds of lovemaking echo through the night air.  Molly’s sweet voice gasps out between each movement of their squeaking cot, calling out for Dutch as the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin penetrates through the thin canvas walls, revealing exactly what’s occupying Dutch’s time tonight.

“Oh, Dutch. Don’t stop,” she encourages through strained, unabashed moans of pleasure. Dutch’s deep, husky voice murmurs back something unintelligible, but the increased squeaking of their bed and the filthy little noises coming from Molly are a clear indicator that Arthur should be stepping away to give them some privacy. Embarrassment washes over him, causing a faint rosy flush to heat his face and bloom across his cheeks. For once, he's grateful for the distraction from his current frustration. On most nights, he'd find comfort in your presence, seeking you out to vent his grievances as a distraction from the ever-present aggravation that seemingly follows him around these days. But tonight, he just wants to retreat to his tent, away from everything and everyone, to try to calm down before he says or does something he regrets.

He strides past the dying campfires and tables that are askew from daily camp activities, and his mind tirelessly races from thought to thought, stealing his attention away from his surroundings. If Arthur had even bothered to look, he would have spotted your sleeping form laid out upon his bed the moment he stepped inside. You had been waiting for him all evening. After working yourself to the bone doing laundry, dinner prep, and other camp chores for Ms. Grimshaw all day long, you wandered your way over to Arthur’s tent in search of a quiet place to sit. Part of you wished to find him seated right there on his cot, wanting to simply have a conversation with the man who has stolen your heart, but to your disappointment, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So, you waited for him.. And waited until the very idea of waiting became too tiresome and you unknowingly fell asleep.

Sneaking away from the gang for private talks with him has been one of your favorite things to do since you joined the gang so long ago. Y'all have always had a knack for avoiding the company of others. But somehow in the midst of squirreling yourselves away, both of you have come to find that you'd prefer being alone together. Eventually, this led to many nights where Arthur would seek you out just to speak his mind, allowing you to see the world through his eyes for a short while. You have not only embraced Arthur's thoughts, but in doing so, you have captured his heart all the same. If it weren't for you, he's certain he'd have lost his damn sanity long ago.

Arthur takes that dusty old gambler's hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to calm himself down. His eyes glance over the things laid out upon his bedside table before catching a glimpse of your figure awash by the pale moonlight in his periphery. Your hair is sprawled out over the small blanket you've rolled up into a makeshift pillow; curls flowing like a roaring waterfall, laying a mess, and finally free from the bun that was atop your head earlier in the day. His eyes rake over your voluptuous figure, noting every dip and curve from your plump waist and hips to the ample swell of your breast hidden by a layer of clothing. The moment his mind registers that your presence isn't a dream, his eyes soften and his mind no longer races with anger. You are his peace, the only thing in this world that he cherishes above all else. 

Sighing softly, he finally discards his hat from his hand and places it onto his nightstand before working off his worn leather jacket and satchel, resting them on the back of the chair nearest his shaving mirror. And while he's on his feet, he takes the time to carefully roll down the canvas walls of his tent, unraveling them with the quiet precision of a mouse, and securing them in a few simple knots to hide you two away from the world.

It's quite dark by the time he wanders over to the cot, dark enough not to notice himself brush against your legs as he takes a seat on the edge of the old creaking bed. The familiar, welcomed-warmth of his body pressing against your shins rouses you from your restful slumber. Your eyes flutter open to find his figure perched next to you, shrouded in a darkness so thick that you are sure you're still dreaming. His head and broad shoulders are slumped over as he begins working off his dusty boots, caked with remnants of mud and manure.

"Hmm... Arthur?" Your voice floats through the quiet darkness, laden with fatigue and clearly carrying the lassitude of someone who could fall back asleep at the drop of a hat.

He quickly glances over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, his eyes already adjusted enough to the shadows to see your tired face staring back at him with confusion. He silently curses himself for waking you. "Shhh, Darlin'. Don't wake up on my account. I'll be done in just a minute," Arthur lightly grunts out the last word as he struggles to remove his right boot.

Even in your own weary state, the exhaustion in his tone isn't lost on you. Thinking it best to rouse yourself as quickly as possible to free up his bed for him, you sit yourself up and will yourself awake with a slight stretch. "'S okay. You need rest more 'n me."

"No. You was restin' 'fore I got here. Go 'head and lay back down." He isn't having any of your courtesy tonight. He's worn out, far too tired to argue with you about whether or not it's appropriate for you to share his bed for the night.

The rest of the gang, aside from John, Abigail, Susan, and Hosea know nothing about the true nature of y'all's relationship. Although, the rest of the girls have picked up on the changes you've brought about in Arthur since your arrival so long ago now. Seeing him get all soft and doey-eyed at you over these last few weeks has most definitely tipped them off about what y'all really get up to when you're out running errands together. But they catch wind of you sleeping in his tent tonight, it will all but confirm their suspicions. And yet, you just can't bring yourself to move from the comfort of Arthur's cot with him sitting so close to you.

"What time is it?" The question falls from your lips, carried on the soft currents of a gentle breeze pushing through the tent flaps. Fine sinewy muscles flex beneath his shirt as he leans over to work off his other boot and you are powerless to admire the shape of his body beneath.

A muffled grunt escapes his mouth the moment he finally frees his aching feet from the confines of his boots, "Late," he simply replies.

You take a deep, cleansing breath, allowing the tranquility of the night to settle around you like a soft, comforting blanket. Outside these walls, no sounds of chatter or lively activity can be heard, aside from the gentle hum of crickets by the riverbank and the faint sounds of a squeaking cot stopping abruptly. The gang is unusually quiet, the air filled with repose now that Arthur's returned safely to you. Only a few stragglers tend to the campfires, their focus solely on themselves, interested in anything beyond the flickering flames; not even the sounds of Dutch and Molly or Arthur's irritation can disrupt the peaceful bubble encompassing Clemen's Point tonight.

The plush heel of your palm rubs over one of your eyes as you flit them toward the tent entrance, watching how the wind slightly ruffles the bottom of the canvas. It's only then that you realize that Arthur has tied down the walls for privacy on your account. Normally, he wouldn't bother setting up the walls before collapsing on the cot for a few restless hours of sleep. But tonight, he's gone out of his way to ensure your comfort. Your heart couldn't feel any more full of love for this man by your side, a man who puts your well-being above all else, even above his own. Never did you think that love would have been like this for you: sitting in the comfortable silence of privacy for lovers when that luxury is rarely afforded for women like you. But despite your gratitude for his thoughtfulness, a pang of guilt gnaws at you knowing he made the extra effort while you took up residence in his bed, a cot that's barely big enough for the two of you given your plump frame.

In an attempt to make up for taking up so much space, you roll yourself forward along the thin mattress and quickly slide past him, crawling toward the foot of his bed where his trunk of clothing is kept. You've decided to give him his space for the night, even though in your heart, you'd prefer to stay. Before your foot even slides off the trunk to touch the soft grass below, you're reminded of John stopping by Arthur's tent earlier in the day.

Through a half yawn, you speak, not giving Arthur the chance to catch-on to where you're headed, "'Fore I forget: John stopped by while you was out."

Arthur slightly leans back as his fingertips mindlessly fumble with the buckle of his gun belt. The slight clicking of the metal rings out as he works to remove the clunky accessory from his body. His strong back brushes against you as he moves with the comfortable ease he's come to enjoy over these last few weeks of secretly being yours.

"What about it?" His concentration is split half between himself and the presence of your body behind him.

Your words don't register in his mind until he's completely removed the belt from his body. He figures it was that stagecoach job he reluctantly handed off to John; it had completely slipped from his mind until this very moment, much like yourself. The cool metal filigree atop his trunk moves under your feet as you rest them just shy of slipping off its edge, causing the hazy memory to play out behind your tired eyes.

-

You were just settling yourself in, resting your weary body on the edge of Arthur's cot, just as you're doing now. Little beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead from working out in the intensity of Lemoyne's miserably humid heat. Grimshaw had you and the rest of the women working on camp chores, which you hadn't complained of, since it usually occupies the time until Arthur's usual return. However, the day was far too hot for you to not complain about the harsh conditions she had y'all in. Eventually, evening came and you were finally finished with the laundry, allowing you a moment's rest to seek out the comfort of Arthur's cot.

In the midst of wiping your brow down with one of his neckerchiefs you'd secretly swiped, the hard thump of boots hitting grass caught your attention. You'd anticipated Arthur's arrival, but something didn't feel quite right. The boots didn't move with Arthur's measured stride; they scuffed the grass and dirt, signaling a different, but familiar presence. The moment you look up, you spot John standing at the entrance of the tent, not at all surprised to see you sitting upon his cot as if it were your own.

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. It was as if he was caught between the two warring emotions, each pulling him equally. Clearly, he expected Arthur to be back already.

"He not back yet?" The gruffness of his voice has you believe the former, rather than the latter.

"Not yet," you say in kind, hoping to ease some of his burden. "Was you needin' him for somethin'?"

John did and the news certainly wasn't going to sit well with Arthur at all.

-

When the thoughts finally coalesce within your fatigued mind, you internally grimace knowing that Arthur isn't going to like the reality of the situation. Gentleness has always been your strong suit, especially when it came to dealing with half of the bull-headed men in camp. So, you lace your words with the softest tone you can manage, "Said it weren't as much as y'all had planned on: about fifty-dollars tied up in what little him 'n Charles found."

And you were right. The news doesn't sit well with him at all. All of the compiled frustration of working a nothing-lead and now knowing that the other job didn't pay well either boils beneath the surface of his skin until he explodes like a whistling kettle. Preventing himself from lashing out at you, Arthur kicks his boot toward the other side of the tent, knocking it into the chair. The loud thunk of its sole hitting wood claps harshly and causes you to flinch, startling you fully awake from the suddenness of noise and his movement.

"Every goddamn day it's some shit," he spits through his teeth.

Although you know he'd never intentionally hurt you, the anger in his voice sends a cold shiver down your spine and your stomach flips and churns in knots. Usually, you'd blame yourself, reprimanding your big mouth for even opening up to mention something that you knew wouldn't bode well for his weary mind. But you're in too much of a shock to even consider self-deprecation as an option. Your wide eyes search through the darkness, watching the shadowed outline of the man you love heave in a deep breath to steal his nerves. His shoulders slump forward and head hangs low as he rests his elbows on his knees, utterly defeated from the compiled anger and exhaustion coursing through him.

It's at this moment that you remember the job Dutch sent him on earlier in the day; Arthur didn't want to go and had very little sleep after working on yet another lead that barely got them anywhere. If it had been left up to you, you would've made Arthur stay right here in this bed to get some rest like he deserves. You would've taken care of him so tenderly, but, as usual, what Dutch wanted would have far outweighed any of your concerns. You've learned to recognize the pattern of these situations by now, and given Arthur's aggression, assuming that today's job didn't go quite as planned would be hitting the nail right on its head. You test the waters with a quiet question, "Lead didn't pan out today, did it?"

The soft shake of Arthur's head, coupled with the shadow of his palm running over his face tells you all that you need to know: no, it hadn't gotten him any farther than where he had started. Another useless effort. Your heart aches watching him struggle with so much weight on his shoulders. No matter how strong Arthur might be, he's just a man struggling to carry his own burdens, let alone everyone else's. Ever since settling down here, Dutch has placed so much responsibility on him that you've wanted to scold the man for even mentioning Arthur's name in passing. He's worked himself thin and thread-bare, barely having any time for himself outside of the time he spends on the road traveling from place to place at Dutch's convenience.

Empathy for the man that you've fallen in love with so long ago breaks your heart, aching in desperation to relieve some of his pain. Instead of walking away, keeping to yourself, and silently shouldering any of the blame for setting him off, you choose to stay the night. Despite knowing full well that the girls will have their gossip circulating by morning, Arthur's needs are far more important than any snickering comment or playful jest that'll inevitably come your way.

You scoot back where you were and lean toward him with less apprehension than what your words had suggested. Resting your delicate palm between the broad expanse of his shoulders, you feel him tense at the soft slip of your tender touch over his shirt. The tips of your fingers glide over his shoulder and silently take purchase on the taut muscle there. With a gentle, yet firm pull, you coax Arthur back toward you.

"C'mere. Lean back 'n talk to me..." Your dulcet tone pierces through his irritation, encouraging him to rest in your awaiting arms.

Arthur slowly reclines back, allowing himself to unwind in your embrace as his much larger body sits snugly against your plump bosom. Relaxing doesn't come easy for him. Hell, you'd be surprised if it had, given the high tensions between him and Micah these days or the tiresome back and forth between the two rival families in Rhodes. He has every right to be terse and tensed up like a snake ready to strike, but you aim to comfort him even if that means you risk getting bit. Silence hangs in the air between you, aside from the gentle breaths and the occasional strained grunt catching in the back of his throat while he struggles to get comfortable against you, due to the remaining stress insisting on clinging to his tired body. Your loving hands splay out over the firm expanse of his chest, feeling the steady and reassuring thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms as you try your best to soothe your brooding lover. It's as if your mere presence cracks away at the anger lingering in the stiff tendons and taut plains of muscle along his torso until he relents and finally lets go. His body relaxes back into you as if he were sinking into the plush, luxurious drapery and bedding found in the finest hotels of Saint Denis; much like the bedding of the room he'd paid for the very same night he had whisked you away to bed you properly for your very first time.

He's silent for a long while, almost reluctant to burden you with his troubles. So, you take it up on yourself to start the conversation by spilling what had happened to you earlier in the day, thinking it might earn a laugh or two, "Well, I'm sure my day weren't as rough as your'n," you hum. "But I did fall off the dock, landing my hind-end right in that water."

The image would usually cause a humorous snort to escape him, but the irritation still bristling at his nerves prevents him from reacting with anything else other than a huff of annoyance, "I told ya to watch your footin' out there. Ain't no use to nobody if you get yourself drowned."

Fortunately, as he chides you his words begin to lack much of the anger from moments ago. But you sigh softly anyways, relenting to his incessant need to protect you from life's dangers, despite being able to handle your own, "I know, I know..."

With a few buttons of that old blue work shirt popped open by your deft fingers, the smallest opening there is just big enough to slip your hand inside and rest it up on the soft but wiry hairs at the very center of his chest. "You shoulda seen me, though," you murmur as you lean down toward his ear, lowering your tone as you press your cheek to the side of his head. "Was drenched head to toe, clothes clingin' to me like feathers on a wet chicken."

He sulks, trying to stay mad at anything and everything he can to give into the bristling anger at the back of his mind, but he can't. No, not when he can clearly envision you all soaked and surprised from falling into that cold lake. A faint smile curls up the corners of his lips and then, just as he almost chuckles, he clears his throat, holding his laugh back. However, you catch on far too quickly for him to play it off so easily.

You gasp softly in mock surprise as if offended by the idea of him laughing at you, "Arthur Morgan. Are you laughin' at me?"

That's when his temperament breaks, giving way to the huff of laughter rumbling through his chest. "I ain't laughin' atchu, per say..." he counters. "Just maybe at the thought of what ya mighta looked like comin' up outta that water: madder 'n hell, hair clingin' to your head," and as if to illustrate his point, Arthur reaches his hand backward and turns his head to try and catch a glimpse of you in the thick shadows, barely making your face distinguishable to his eyes, as he brushes his fingertips over the bits of hair clinging to your forehead from the muggy heat.

Though you narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, you lean into his calloused fingertips, accepting the gentleness of his touch while a giggle of your own creeps up into your throat, "Oh? Is 'at so? Maybe next time I find you out on that dock, I'll think 'bout pushin' ya in 'n lettin' you see how it feels."

He huffs out a skeptical breath and raises an eyebrow at the very thought of you even trying something like that with him. It'd be a futile effort and one that you truly wouldn't consider without the clear consequence of him pulling you right down with him.

And just as soon as the laughter came, it was gone again, replaced instead with a comfortable silence that settles between you two once more, giving him some space to think about what's happened to himself today. Long before the days of your arrival, Arthur would keep to himself and dwell on the ever-present burdens troubling his mind, brooding for hours. But with you, he feels a safety that men like him are rarely afforded.

"Well, if ya think fallin' in Flat Iron's bad..." he continues, "Try goin' halfway 'cross the state lookin' for a man that don't exist. Then when ya find someplace to get a drink, ya end up catchin' a few stray hits from some drunken bastard."

A soft gasp enters your lungs at the revelation. Another fight? You lean over his shoulder, reaching to take his scarred chin into your hand. It's hard to see through the inky-black darkness of the night, but even in the haziness, your eyes can make out the bruising along his jaw, the harsh scrapes of knuckles cutting over his cheek, and the jagged cut on his upper lip. It isn't a rare sight to have him come back battered and bruised by some job from time to time, but that still doesn't quell the uneasiness in your heart at him going through such pain and aggravation.

Your eyebrows furrow in sympathy for your rugged cowboy, eyes softening to match as you breathe out, "Oh, Arthur."

He's quick to dismiss your concern with a soft sigh, pulling away from you to lean forward and distract himself from your sympathetic gaze, "Ah, don'tchu go 'n worry yourself over me none, Darlin'."

Being fussed over or thought of so tenderly still isn't something he's used to; he's shown you that time and time again. But it never deters you from trying to make things better, to make things easier on him however you can. Whatever turmoil Arthur's got rolling about in his mind is far from the usual and it takes patience to understand; a patience that he finds only you can give.

You reach your hand out toward him. The delicate ends of your fingertips reach up to brush over the nape of his sun-kissed neck, grazing over the ends of his slightly overgrown hair, silently making a note to yourself that you'll trim it for him tomorrow. His body shuffles slightly backward, leaning in to accept your touch while he slips off his suspenders: pulling them down his shoulders heavy with burden, before taking his time to unbutton that tattered old work shirt you're so used to seeing around his muscular frame.

"'Sides..." he starts. "I did have some good that came from today."

"What's 'at?" you hum softly with a lilt of dryness. "Hittin' that feller back?"

He can't help the chuckle rising in his throat at the dry sarcasm touching your words. Arthur shakes his head softly, "Nah, Darlin', " the last word strains from his lips as he rises to his feet with a groan, leaving the safe comfort of your touch as he stands to undo his pants.

He glances over his shoulder, peering down at you through the darkness with a smirk curling up at the right corner of his mouth. Watching as your sweet eyes follow his every movement, Arthur turns to face you, allowing you to gaze at him as he slowly pushes the brass button through the eyelet at the top of his riding pants. The fabric opens effortlessly, revealing the red cloth of his union suit underneath. The sight of him before you, suspenders hanging loosely on either side of his long legs and his pants aching to be peeled from his strong form has your lips parted in awe at the man standing mere inches away from you.

He continues from just seconds before, "Seein' you laid out on my bed, purdy as a dream."

After stepping out of his pants now crumpled around his ankles, Arthur lowers one knee upon the cot nearest your thighs. He leans over you, using his thick fingers to tilt your chin upward, meeting his crystalline eyes. "Was one helluva sight I could get used to seein'."

The low timbre of his voice sends a shockwave of desire straight through your heart and into the aching pit of your stomach. Your lips draw up into a shy smile, and a faint dusting of pink envelops your cheeks just like the moment you'd first professed your feelings for him under that canopy of trees he led you through so blindly. Although it hasn't been long since that fateful night, the closeness of your relationship has escalated so quickly that your head and heart dizzy at the mere mention of his name.

Arthur's calloused thumb brushes over the supple swell of your bottom lip, enticing you to part them just for him. You comply, of course, unable to resist how a ghost of his touch makes you so pliant beneath him. And when he leans down to meet your lips with his own, your heart swells with tender affection. Those warm, slightly chapped, but pleasantly plush lips are heady as they connect with a passion that stokes the burning coals of desire in the very base of your core.

"Been waitin' to use that one for a while, hmm?" You hum contently while blindly guiding your hands toward the flare of muscle encasing his ribs. God, how you could worship this man and never tire of feeling how warm, how strong he is beneath your palms.

"Depends. It workin'?" He murmurs, smirking cockily against your lips.

Your mind begins to spin as the calloused pad of his thumb dips from your chin and swipes over your jawline. His fingers splay out over the side of your neck, fingertips gripping you with tender passion to hold you in place. He could easily break you, bend you with his finger and thumb as if you were nothing more than a twig beneath his rough and weathered hands. Never have you felt so small and fragile, always knowing in your heart that you took up much more room than other women. But, when you're with Arthur, he makes you feel as delicate as the petals on a beautiful flower, something so precious and worth loving; it's so much more than you'd ever experienced in your whole life. He touches you so tenderly as if you were made from nothing more than ash, a veritable pile of matter waiting to slip through his fingers at any moment.

You want to hum your praises to your lover, to let him know exactly how much you've wanted this, how much you've missed him, how well he's kissing you, touching you... But you can't. There are no words. He's stolen them from you, drawing all the air out of your lungs with his lips, leaving you gasping for the air coated in his divine masculine scent: sweet tobacco, wood ash, and mossy earth. He encompasses you, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulls you close to his body, all the while shuffling himself forward to join you on the small cot. Your back presses against the hard wooden frame of the wagon making up the other half of his tent. He presses against you, holding you close to his strong body as he slides his right hand from your jaw, trailing it down over the soft skin of your neck, and down to your chest, where he heatedly palms your breast hidden just beneath your blouse. To have him touch you like this, like a man frenzied and dying for a taste of intimacy, has your head spinning and your heart on the verge of exploding if it hadn't already; for all you know, you could've died the moment his lips crashed into yours, and all that's left is a heaven you'd only dreamt of.

A low growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest for the plumpness of your body. Most men do not know the fine pleasures that extra curves on a woman can bring. But Arthur sure does. And oh how he worships your full figure, despite your opinions about yourself. His large, calloused palm shifts his attention to your other breast, kneading you tenderly while his lips work from your mouth, and instead, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over your jawline and supple neck.

His name is a breathless sigh across your trembling lips as you allow your hands to explore his body in return. Touching over the large expanse of his torso and gliding your fingertips over the worn fabric of his union suit, you desperately search for the button that would bare him wholly to you. In the time it takes you to undo one of his buttons, his skilled fingers undo two of yours. Button after button unthreads upon both of your bodies, though his hands are much quicker at ridding you of your layers, leaving them strewn about on the ground until he's stripped you down and laid you beneath him in nothing more than your chemise and bloomers to conceal your decency. Arthur then crawls over you, his movements deliberate and enticingly slow as he cages you in with his hands pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your head. Shadows danced and shifted restlessly, playing tricks on your perception as you try to focus on what little of Arthur you could see through the haziness, making the absence of light feel alive. To feel him above you like this has your stomach in knots, tightening with a firey passion that's ready to snap at any given moment. Hearts are pounding, thrumming wildly against your ribcages like birds desperate to escape the confines of your chests. You hear it, hear how his breath shutters with each wild thump of his heart, and you feel it in his breath as it puffs over your cheek. He's losing himself to you and you him, slipping so quickly that rational thinking is no longer of use. You need him and he needs you.

The flaps of his union suit hang loosely from his body, allowing your hands to reach in and press flat over his heated skin. He shivers slightly at the contact, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath the tender meeting of your palms placed upon his scarred, goose-pimpled flesh. Your fingertips ghost over a scar on the right side of his ribcage, causing your face to crinkle with sorrow for what hardship your lover, this great outlaw, has had to endure in his lifetime. The damaged tissue is the result of a nasty fight he had as a young man: when someone stabbed him with the broken end of a beer bottle; they had aimed to kill him, but he had survived. The spot still aches with the memory of Hosea digging out the shards of broken glass from the angry, bloodied wound. But somehow, the way your delicate touch brushes over that old scar with such love and care causes the outlaw's skin to tingle, and his cock to ache with the pride of knowing that you love him so.

He takes his time with you here, laid out beneath him like a perfect little thing he's captured and kept safe by hiding you away in the privacy of his tent. After the day he's had, he wants to savor every bit of loveliness he's blessed with in your presence, so he can't rush this with you, not now. Arthur takes his time admiring you, letting his eyes rake over what he's able to see, and feeling what he cannot. Leaning down close enough to your face to capture that seductive glint in your glittering, lust-blown eyes, Arthur searches for any change within them as he maneuvers his right hand away from the mattress to trail along your sensitive flesh. The rough pads of his fingers ghost over your thigh, caressing the plump deposit of flesh along your middle, snaking up over your collarbones, and over your neck in search of your delicate face before sealing your mouth with his own in a kiss so tender you whimper from the initial contact.

Shivers of anticipation roll through him as your body responds to his touch: back arching off the bed, hands pulling on the nape of his neck to hold him down and assure that his lips won't leave yours, and the way your bloomer-clad hips roll upward in search of some much-needed friction. God how he could spend hours with you like this, letting his hands roam over your body to make you shiver and plead for any ounce of affection that he can give you. Your needy state is only exacerbated by the slight tremble in your thighs as he snakes his hands down over the pillowy flesh, seeking out the waistband of your bloomers. Ridding you of the cloth separating your pussy from his line of sight is an easy feat: the clad, slightly damp undergarment peels away from your plump hips with ease at the help of his precision; the Lemoyne heat causes the clothing to stick to your slightly dampened skin, but dammit if the temperature pales in comparison to how heated Arthur makes you feel. He tosses them down onto the ground, and places his hands upon your knees, spreading them apart as he sits above you to admire the feeling of your plump body beneath him.

His hand is unhurried and exacting, gently brushing his calloused knuckles down over your inner thigh, then lightly petting them over your soaked need covered by a soft thatch of hair. He can't see you fully, but that does nothing to stop his mind from envisioning how your cunt glistens with slick, all for him. The moment he presses his fingertips to your seam, parting you with the practiced precision of a lover, he lets a low, ragged breath escape his nose in appreciation for how wet you are. You shiver and instinctively try to close your knees from the pleasant surprise of his touch, and fuck does it feel good to have him brush over your folds like that.

"Always so ready, ain'tchya?" He murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice as he takes his time in savoring the feeling of your slick upon his fingertips.

Your hips involuntarily twitch, bucking upward into his hand, seeking out his fingertips to make him swirl them over your aching little clit. You want him to touch you right where you need him, feel him right on that little spot upon that nub of nerves that makes your mind swirl and your body careen into a blissful orgasm. But he doesn't give that to you, not yet. He wants to work you over slowly, savoring every little sound he can draw out of those pretty lips. You're far too shy to answer him directly, instead favoring to cover your face with your forearms as he takes pleasure in taunting you like this. But the moment his fingertips threaten to part your folds, you let out a delicate little noise, someplace between a whine and a prayer to let him know that you're in no mood to endure his teasing tonight, "Arthur... Please."

Oh, how he loves to hear the sound of you begging; he's already half-hard at the idea of you wanting his touch, let alone hearing how desperate you are for it. He answers your prayer with a long, smooth stroke of his thumb parting your puffy, wet folds. You keen at how just a simple touch causes your stomach to flutter and your slit to clench around nothing at all. Your thighs, thick with strength, covered by a layer of squishy softness, part for him, relaxing lazily as he guides his thumb over each of your labia.

It was nearly impossible to get you to lay like this for him a few weeks ago; you'd been concerned about the unsightly appearance of your inner thighs: scarred over with dimples and imperfections, as well as the slight discoloration of having them rub together after so many years of being a larger woman. Most women that you've seen naked, don't have the same ailments upon their bodies as you have on yours. Just the other day when bathing with some of the girls in the lake, you'd noticed that even on Karen's body, a woman closer to your size, still didn't have the scars or discoloration across her skin in the same way that you have. And that night that Arthur had you laid out for him for the very first time, he'd noticed that apprehension in you, taking it as having second thoughts. But once you had explained how you felt about your own body, he hadn't even given the idea a single thought; his own body is mauled up, covered in old and ugly scars, and carrying more than three colors from all his time spent out in the sun. So, he couldn't have cared less about some scars, a little extra hair, weight, or even the discoloration over your thighs. What he did care about, however, was making sure that you felt loved in spite of it all. And now, it feels no different. To have you spread your legs for him like this, without a single worry holding you back, is a goddamn treat.

Fuck how good it feels to have the soft press of his thumb tease over your cunt, tracing the delicate path between your weeping entrance, to your swelling bud with a pressure so teasing and light that you squirm to feel more. Your plush lips tuck between your teeth to hold back any sounds that give away what you two are doing in here after dark, but it's useless; the lewd sounds of his thumb circling over your clit echo throughout the tent: a dead giveaway to anyone that dare walk by. Holding your breath like this isn't easy, not when the pounding of your heart echoes in your ears and your chest feels as if it's being seared from the inside out. A ragged gasp finally inhales through your nostrils, desperately trying to fulfill your body's need for air when you can no longer restrain your breaths.

He huffs out a low chuckle in amusement at the state he has you in: clearly desperate and in need to have your clit rubbed just the way you like it.

"Hmm.. Hear that?" He rasps out before going silent, letting you hear the sounds of your own slick being spread over your soaked cunt. He only continues when he finally reaches your clit, circling over the throbbing little nerve-ending to make you sigh out in pleasure for him. "So goddamn wet. All for me."

In a blur of movements, Arthur's chapped lips and teeth skim over your knee, slowly working their way down over your inner thighs. He nips at you, earning a few little squeaks and giggles until he kisses over your plump mound. His thumbs take hold of either side of your cunt, spreading you open to let the night air hit your wet skin. It's pleasant like this, to feel yourself spread out beneath him like a meal ready to be devoured and dammit if he ain't starved for a taste. Being eaten out has quickly become one of your favorite acts of intimacy in recent weeks; his tongue is so skilled at finding spots on you, making you come so deliciously, that most days it's all you've been able to think about. Hell, it's all you're thinking about now as his head sinks down to your core and his hot breath fans out over your aching need. His tongue slips out of that perfect mouth and flattens out over your seam, lapping at you once to earn him that little sigh of pleasure escaping your throat.

Your hands immediately seek out his head, combing through his slightly sweat-dampened hair as he swirls the blunt tip of his tongue over your clit.

"A-Agh, Arthur.. N-Not so fast," you whine out in protest, yet your hips bucking up into his mouth says otherwise. But he relents, nonetheless, giving you a moment of reprieve before he delves back in at the same pace.

He's aiming to make you cum quick and hard: slithering his tongue over your clit with the precision of knowing exactly what side and spot makes you writhe beneath him. Just left and then a little upward beneath that little hood of skin and he has you singing for him. Explicitves roll off your tongue one after another in between sweet little sounds that praise him for what effort he's putting in just for you. To hear you, feel you crumble beneath him like this is better than any robbery or score he gets out on the road. But just before he lets you come, he pulls his head back slightly and puffs cool air over your clit, making you whine.

"Shh.. Shh.. 'M gonna let ya cum, Darlin'. Don'tchu worry 'bout that none. 'M gonna take real good care of ya," he hums lowly as his lips and bristly scruff brush over your quivering inner thighs.

His promise isn't far off from fulfillment, not when he sinks his tongue into your heat and presses his opened mouth over the entirety of your cunt. He sucks hard, feeling your walls constrict around the wriggling muscle of his tongue as he laps inside your spongey center. Your thighs tremble with need as he fucks you with his mouth and slurps up your slick, drinking in as much of you as he can and relishing the tangy sweetness of your delectable taste. You throw your head back against the rolled-up blanket you had been using as a pillow earlier in the night, all while he eats you out like a man who's desperate to consume you.

But the aching throb of his cock, constricted by the thin fabric of his union suit, is far too angry for him to ignore. He's got to have you, now.

As he shuffles back up to his knees, leaving your cunt longing to cum on his tongue, you flutter your eyes open and snap your head up to try and catch a glimpse of what he's doing. Clearly, you ain't pleased with him teasing you like this, but when you feel his fervent movements, you realize that he's trying to work off his union suit. He wastes no time it peeling it away from his torso, but the moment he starts to tug it down his thighs, allowing his weeping cock to spring free, he nearly topples over and just about slams head-first into your body. Thankfully, he catches himself in the knick of time, grunting out a few curses as he grows impatient with his incapability to slide that damn fabric off his legs.

Amid his struggle to bare himself, you can't hide the giggle creeping up your throat as he curses under his breath, frustrated with how the fabric insists on clinging to his muscular legs. You help him slide the old red union suit off his body by digging your heels against the back of his thighs and pushing it down the long length of his legs until it reaches his ankles. The undergarment hangs loosely off his feet, causing him to kick it haphazardly off the side of the bed, letting it fall onto his trunk to skirt down on the grass below.

The instant his turgid length brushes over your inner thigh it twitches with the anticipation of feeling your tight, wet walls clamped around him, milking every drop of spend nestled away in his balls; spend that he so desperately wishes he could drain right inside of you. For now, however, just a single brush of your fingertips against him is enough. He has to hold his breath as he guides your delicate palm over his velvety shaft to stroke the needy ache away; if he isn't careful, he'd cum just like this. He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as your fingers wrap around him and your thumb seeks out the weeping slit of his blunt tip. Arthur is, by no means, a small man: his legs are long, torso strong and wide, feet and hands are like bear paws, and his cock.. God, his cock is big. You could use both of your hands to stroke him and still, there'd be enough room for his tip to be entirely untouched. But you make sure as you stroke him with one hand, you pay extra attention to his tip, smearing his drooling precum over as much of him as you can, even down to the dark and wiry curls along his base and balls.

He's trying so hard to hold himself back, but with each tender pass of your thumb over that sweet spot along the underside of his tip, the last remnants of his patience crack away. You feel him crumbling like this, crumbling into a frenzied mess of low-hummed breaths and grunts through gritted teeth, and you fucking love it. Before you can even think about the desire roaring in the cavernous pit of your stomach, aching to be quelled, he smashes his lips into yours so hard that you're sure one of you is bleeding. The pain of his busted lip splitting back open is an angry reminder of the frustration still lingering at the back of his mind; he's as tensed up, pent-up, as a taut rope ready to snap.

With a quick movement, he swats your hand away, preventing you from jacking him into a fast climax. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs hold of your thighs and forcefully yanks you toward him, making the round swell of your plump ass plant firmly against the hard front of his strong body. Your thighs spread out, squishing over and conforming to the contour of his hips, the intimate contact leaving you both ragged and breathless. Your heart drums a frantic rhythm in your ears, drowning out all other thoughts and sensations that belong to you alone. It's as if your mind has descended into a tangled web of strangled noises and glorious sensations that only Arthur seems able to untangle or soothe. The faint outline of his body nestled between your thighs is a constant reminder that nothing beyond this moment, beyond him hidden away with you inside of this tent, matters.

The hard length of his turgid pride parts your folds, gliding over the slick thatch of curls usually concealing your cunt from his eyes, but with his sight hindered, he can explore every single nook, roll, and crevice without you shying away. His weight bares down on you as he holds your legs into the crook of his arms, nearly bending you in half as he drags his cock over your seam. It feels so good like this, even though you can hardly breathe with the thickness of your thighs pressing against your already plump stomach, but when the tip of his cock knocks into your clit, it makes the strained pain well worth it. The back of your hand flies over your mouth as he continues on like this, pleasuring himself and you with each agonizingly slow thrust. Hearing your ragged, strangled half-breaths, he releases your thighs, leaving them to splay out lazily on either side of his hips as he leans down to steal a tender kiss.

Upon breaking his lips away from yours, the low hum of his voice finds its way through the haziness of your lust-broken mind as he murmurs against the shell of your ear, "Gonna take ya just like this..."

Chapped lips skim over your jawline and trail to your lips, where he gives you another tender kiss filled with gentle affection: polar opposite to the rough sex-driven outlaw you've gotten a taste of tonight, but aligning perfectly with the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Scraped knuckles skim against your slick heat as he slips his hand in between you both and presses flat over the thick, dark curls at the base of his throbbing length. His fingers spread wide over his pubic bone, holding his cock between his middle and ring finger, stiffening himself outward to seek out your clenched entrance. With a slight pullback of his hips, he guides himself to your slit, catching right on the taut muscle before pressing forward and splitting you open.

A soft cry hums in the back of your throat and he shushes you so tenderly, sliding his hands over your knees and down your shins to soothe the ache he knows you're feeling. You're so fucking tight, hardly different from the first night he took you and bedded you properly back at the Saint's Hotel. It nearly shatters him when your walls flutter around him, squeezing and pulling him in inch by inch as if you were carved out just for him to sink into. He stills only for a short moment, letting you feel him nestled up against your cervix before he slides himself out and enters you again with a sharp snap of his hips. Lingering anger and frustration from the shit day he's had still pulsates at the back of his mind, desperate to be released as the tension in his body rises.

The tight walls of your cunt clench onto him for dear life as jolts of pleasure and pain rack through your body.

Behind the shield of your palm, you cry out, "A-Agh, Arthur!"

You're trying your best to be quiet, to still your ragged breaths and hide your whimpers, but he's making it incredibly difficult. Each slow drag of his cock coming out of you with a satisfying pop, only to pierce you with a hard roll of his hips, sends you reeling. You're seeing stars, shaking from the pleasurable burn of the passionate fire he's stirring within you. Strong hands grip your hips, keeping you still as his thrusts guide you into a steady rhythm that makes the old wooden frame creak and groan with every subtle and sharp movement that your bodies make. Being discreet has left his mind entirely, no longer concerned with what sounds are coming out of his tent as he fucks you good and proper. No, he couldn't care less when the sounds of your slick pussy squelches as he presses himself flush against you and groans against the pulse point of your neck.

"Don't want ya hidin' them purdy sounds, Darlin'. Let 'em out for me," he grunts out between slow but hard thrusts.

Usually, intimacy like this is savored in the shaking breaths and whispered little sounds only audible to your ears, but tonight... Tonight Arthur is something else entirely. Primal. A damn, dirty outlaw. You love this new view of him, but you can't allow yourself to let the others hear. What if someone were walking by? Or Hosea or Dutch hear you two going at it? You wouldn't be able to look at them for a week! But he doesn't give you much choice in the matter: snaking his hand down between your bodies, his muscular forearm presses against your plush belly while his thumb immediately finds your clit.

"O-Oh, God," you whine as the pad of his thumb circles over you, followed by his name dripping off your tongue like the sweetest honey. "At's it... Such a good girl takin' me so deep. Mmm.. Gonna cum 'round me ain'tchu? Gonna give me a real good one, baby?"

God damn him if his mouth ain't filthy. The way he croons out those little praises and words of encouragement has your climax building faster than you ever could have anticipated. And the swirling of his thumb? It has you shaking, whining, pleading, practically begging for your release as he talks you through it, "C'mon, Darlin'... I feel ya squeezin' me real tight," he praises, "'At's it. Focus on me."

With one more swipe of his thumb over your sensitive clit and his cock hitting that sweet spot right against your cervix, you're tensing, digging your heels into the thin mattress, and cumming around him so hard that you see white. It takes everything in you not to scream, but the strangled sound coming out of you is loud enough to warrant some head-turning if anyone were awake. The moment your walls flutter and start milking him, he falls forward and drops down onto his elbows to cage you in. His thrusts are relentless as he takes his anger out on you in this way, using every movement of his body to release the bristling anger clutching onto his mind like a damn vice grip. No matter how fervent and frenzied, he's still careful not to hurt you, always thinking about how good he's making you feel while chasing his own release.

Arthur isn't a man of many words, but when you're gripped around him like this, clutching him with your arms, legs, and your fluttering pussy, he is downright mouthy. "Oh, such a good girl for listenin' to me. Shh.. Shh. I gotchu, baby. I gotchu."

His mouth hovers over yours, claiming your lips as he kisses you hard and possessively. Moans spill out of you, traveling through the expanse of his throat until it hums within his chest and he echoes one back. To talk like this with him, in a language only two lovers could understand, is far more intimate and pleasurable than anyone could ever know. Arthur is yours and you are his, no ownership or proprietary claim, but just the pleasant knowledge that both of you choose to love each other is enough.

With a few more rolls of his hips, he's nearing his own orgasm: length twitching and engorging as his balls tighten. In desperation, he quickly climbs off of you and pulls his cock out from your core. His right hand tightens into a fist around himself, and although you can't see it, you hear the lewd, effortless slide of his hand vigorously pumping over his tip like his life depends on cumming for you.

Finally, his orgasm hits him, working its way out of his tightened balls and spurting over your plump mound and belly. If he could see his spend on you like this, it'd be enough to make him cum all over again. But both of you are far too exhausted to even consider that so soon. You're still shaking, panting heavily as he lowers himself down onto you, not caring that his sticky spend is now covering the front of his body as well, as your sweaty bodies come down from such an enormous height.

His touch traces a slow, deliberate path down your leg until his fingertips reach the softness of your hip, where he gives your flesh a gentle but firm grasp. Reveling in the smoothness of your skin and the feel of your curvy form beneath his palm, he lets out a slow exhale through his nose. The heat of his breath spills over your neck and shoulder, doubled by the heavy breaths leaving his lips as he lazily peppers your clammy skin with kisses.

After a long stretch of quiet spent nestled into his hair, breathing in the comforting remnants of campfire intermingled with his musky scent, your breathing finally begins to steady. Slowly, your senses return to you one by one, like pieces of a puzzle falling back into place. Shock and disbelief jolt through your entire being as it finally hits you how easily he manipulated your body with his own strength and skill as a lover. You'd heard of men being rough with women, but never did you think it could be this pleasurable.

Your voice finally cuts through the relative silence, carrying a deep sense of satisfaction and astonishment with it, "Wh-here in the hell did that come from?"

An amused chuckle rumbles inside his chest, slightly huffing out of his nose as he slightly pushes himself off of you to gauge your reaction, "Reckon I were a little pent up. Why? You like it?"

To say you liked it was an understatement, but you'd like anything as long as Arthur were right there with you to experience it just the same. While his right hand slides up over the plump contours of your body, appreciatively grabbing at the plushness of your stomach and breasts, he lovingly brushes a few stray strands of hair off your forehead stuck there by the sweat covering your body. You hum softly in agreement to his question, deciding that you did enjoy this different side of him you hadn't respected, despite his rough exterior.

"Mhmm.. 'S always good with you," the loving words you murmur cling to his heart and earn you a pleasant kiss that tastes like the remnants of his busted lip.

As his lips trail back down over your jawline, his beard delightfully scratches over your sensitive skin, causing you to hum in appreciation for him loving you like a man who worships the very ground you walk upon. Your own body follows his lead, fingertips glide down the entire length of his back, tracing the contour of muscle that hint at the immense strength lurking beneath. You can't help but marvel at his shape, this man you love so dearly, and how his body was molded for love and carved from such a hard life. While your fingertips glide across his muscled frame, you can feel the subtle shift of his body as he adjusts himself on top of you, notricebly more relaxed than before: a clear testamanet to the calming eddect your touch has on him.

Curiosity peaked, you murmur, "You relaxed now?" as your fingertips idly trace the two little dimples that grace the base of his spine, just above the firm and muscular curve of his ass.

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, obviously enjoying the path your fingertips are carving out over his back. He'd never admit it, but he loves it when you grab him unabashedly, palming his ass like he so often does to you. The warmth of his cock brushing over your leg, hardening much faster than he expected for a man his age, tells you all you need to know.

He agrees with you, humming softly against your chest as he inches himself down to where his mouth hovers over the plump swell of your breasts, "Thinkin' that we just might need a little more time for relaxin', don'tchu?"

A/N: Big thanks for the divider from @saradika-graphics and the beautiful gif from @sunwingsunset, please go send them some love for their work! <3

Other creators that expressed interest and drew inspiration from: @subpopizzy , @cassietrn , @coltermorning , @redwritr, @zae-heeyyy, @twola , @amorgansgal

Please do go check all the blogs I tagged! You surely won't be disappointed!

As always, sending my love - M. <3

[bumblebeedrizzzle]

Original art by ug0nba on Twitter (X)

I was so inspired by this art and decided to write a little fic because I haven’t seen many for this fandom! I’ve been thinking about posting this for weeks… I’m really happy with it and I hope it makes you smile too! This is my first published fic, so please be nice to me!（╹◡╹）

Warning: This is a tickle fic, if you’re not into that then please keep scrolling, thank you!! ✌🏻 It is SFW tho!

Fandom: Welcome to Demon School, Iruma-kun!

Reblogs are totally fine and appreciated but please don’t repost! Thank youuuuu! (*´꒳`*)

Can you tell that I was heavily influenced by my favorite ship, Iruazz?

Asmodeus was feeling a little distracted. He’d invited Iruma over today so that just the two of them could hang out. It was great hanging out as a trio with Clara, but sometimes he wanted one on one time. The day had been going well, but then Asmodeus found himself very fixated on something: Iruma’s ears. They were so small and round and cute!! How had he not noticed this before?!

At first, he’d tried not to stare. But then Iruma had swept his hair back into a little ponytail and now he found himself transfixed. Small, round, cute. Small, round, cute. small. round. cute. He was pretty sure he’d missed the last few things Iruma had said, but he couldn’t help himself.

Entranced, he found himself leaning forward, his fingers reaching without his permission —

“Eep!”

Well that certainly got Asmodeus’ attention. He looked down and realized that he had pinched the top of Iruma’s right ear, thereby causing the aforementioned boy to squeal. Oh devils was that cute…

“I-Iruma-sama! My sincerest apologies! I did not mean to startle you. It’s just, I’ve never noticed how round and cu - I mean small your ears are! I might have gotten a little carried away. Again, my apologies.”

“O-oh, it’s okay Azz-kun,” Iruma said with a sheepish smile. “It just tickled a little is all”

Ticklish. Iruma-sama is ticklish. His brain overloaded. Iruma-sama was so cute so cute so devi-cute!!!! Play it cool, Asmodeus.

“Oh, I see. Yes, that makes sense.” How was that playing it cool?!

…

After a few moments, he tentatively asked:

“If I am more careful, w-would it be okay for me to touch them again? I-if it’s not weird, Iruma-sama I just noticed that our ears are so different and —”

“It’s okay Azz-kun, go ahead!” Iruma beamed.

Oh devils this boy was going to be the death of him.

“R-right, h-here I go”

He leaned forward again, focused intently on his task. Truly, Iruma-sama’s ears were like nothing he had ever seen. He made a point to be more gentle this time, which he hoped would help. After a few moments though, he noticed that Iruma’s ear was slowly turning red. Without thinking, he blew softly on it, hoping to cool it down. That was the reason it had turned such an adorable shade of red, right? He was dimly aware of some light chuckles and Iruma squirming. When he looked at Iruma-sama’s face, it too was turning a light shade of red.

Oh. Right. Oh devils. He should stop now, he should really stop —

Chomp.

“Wah! Azz-kun?!”

Yeah, he definitely wasn’t going to be able to stop. You know what they say about demons and desires and all that.

He continued nibbling on Iruma’s ear, now with the sounds of light giggles coming from nearby.

“A-Azz-kun? Are you ehehe d-done looking at my ears haha??”

Iruma was met with more vigorous nibbles.

“I-is this a normal wahahay t-to lohohook at s-someone’s ears?? I-it tihihihckles Azz-kun!” the giggles were getting harder to stop.

Asmodeus was long gone. Not in a wicked phase sort of way though. Actually, he wasn’t worried about his wicked phase coming around for a long while now, not with this adorable stress reliever in his hands. But all common sense had gone out the window the second he’d gently chomped down on Iruma’s ear. It was so soft!! And Iruma-sama’s giggles had to be in the top 3 cutest things he’d ever heard. He wanted to hear more; he couldn’t possibly stop now. His fingers appeared to agree as well, as they started fluttering lightly over Iruma’s neck, eliciting even more giggles from the boy.

“A-Azz-kun, hehehehell to Azz-kun! Y-you’re tihihihickling me! P-please! Aha!”

His squirming was getting more deliberate now as any self-control for Azz’s curiosity was losing to the overwhelming ticklish feelings on his neck and ear. He tried looking up towards Azz, but the demon let out a slight growl and continued his shenanigans. Iruma was left to helplessly giggle and hope for a break. He tried holding out for a while longer, but eventually pleaded:

“H-hehehehello?? I-I d-dohohon’t know hohohow much mohohore I can tahahahake, A-Azz-kun!” and with that he gently pushed his hands against the demon’s chest for the first time. That seemed to register.

“I-Iruma-sama?” he blinked.

“A-Azz-kun hehehey. S-sorry i-it just hehe tickled a lot and I couldn’t, “ he blushed more, “My ears are really sensitive.”

Asmodeus looked down with a mix of remorse and disappointment. His whole face was bright red, all the way to the tips of his pointy ears. When he finally met Iruma’s eyes, they were pleading.

“Could I tickle you a little more? P-please? Iruma-sama?”

Ba-dump. Oh devils. That face. Those eyes. That word. He never could say no when people said please. Well… maybe it wasn’t so bad to laugh a little. And Azz-kun had stopped when he’d truly asked.

“U-Um, s-sure. I-if you want, I-I guess. I-I suppose I c-could try to lahast a little longer” he said with a blush. Could his face get any hotter?? What had he just agreed to?

Asmodeus didn’t need to hear anything more. He pulled Iruma back into his chest and went straight for his left ear, receiving a fresh round of giggles in return.

“W-wahaha! I-I wasn’t ready! Hehe this is eheheven wohohohorse. Y-yohohour f-fangs tihihihihickle sohoho muhuhuch!!”

Asmodeus wrapped an arm around Iruma’s waist to keep him from squirming away. With his free hand, he scribbled the back of Iruma’s neck, enjoying the fresh round of hysterics and pleading. When he’d had his fill there, his hand roamed down to Iruma’s shoulder blades. Much to his delight, this produced a new response:

“EEP! Ahaha!! W-wait haha I-I’ve n-never beheheen tihickled thehehere. Ehehehe!! A-Azz-kun!! Ahahaha!!”

Iruma-sama really isn't helping himself calling my name like that. He stopped nibbling for a moment to say:

“I-Iruma-sama, if you want me to stop, then y-you’ll have to stop being so cute”

There was a pause. Well, it was official, Iruma’s face could get even hotter. But before he could think about what had just been said too much, the tickling resumed.

“C-cute?! I-I’m nohohot!! W-whahahat w-waiaiait w-what dohoho you mehehean?? Ahahaha g-go somewhere ehehelse p-please!!”

Asmodeus chuckled, sending reverberations into Iruma’s ear. He shivered.

“I suppose you are right as always, Iruma-sama. You will never not be cute. Silly me. I suppose you’ll be stuck like this forever then.”

“Wahahahahaha!!” was all Iruma could say in response. He had covered his face with his hands. Teasing, he’s teasing me! That makes it so much worse.

Iruma had erupted into full-blown laughter now, and sensing that he needed a change of pace, Asmodeus started scribbling up and down the boy’s sides with both hands. Above the desperate pleas and squirming he whispered into Iruma’s right ear,

“Don’t even think of escaping, Iruma-sama. I’m not finished with you yet.”

Iruma figured if he could melt into a puddle, he would. His pleas became incoherent babbles as he wondered what in hell had gotten into Asmodeus today. He wondered if maybe he should have been more careful. After all, this was a demon tickling him. Who knew how torturous it would be? Was this how tickling always went in the demon realm?

　　　　　　 ・・・・・・・・・

Ribs. Sides. Back. Tummy. Ears. Neck. Collarbones. All Iruma could do was laugh as Asmodeus played him like a violin. He reached new octaves when he felt black-tipped fingers slip into his armpits — and he redoubled his efforts to scramble away.

“Yahahahaha nahahahahaha A-Azz-kuhuhuhuhun p-plehehehehease c-can’t t-tahahahahake ihihihit!!!!”

“Surely you can take it, Iruma-sama. I know you can because you are magnificent in every way. Even your laughter is magnificent — “

“S-stohohohop t-teheheheheasing mehehehehehe!! Nahahahahahaha!!”

“ — you are truly worth following, I am proud to be your friend.”

“Ahahahahahaha A-A-Ahahahahzzzz!!!!! H-happy tohohoho behehehe your frihehehend too, b-but ahahaha ihihit tihihihihihickles sohohoho bahahahahad!!”

“There is a simple explanation for that, Iruma-sama. You are the best at everything, of course. So you are also the best at being ticklish!”

“B-behehest at beheheing tihihihihicklihihish?!? Ihihis thahahat eheheven a gohohohohod thihihing??”

“Of course it is! Allow me to demonstrate, using a technique I learned from our Torture class —”

Torture?! thought Iruma. Oh devil, this was it, Azz-kun had figured out that he was a human and trying to torture it out of him —

Suddenly, Asmodeus reached down and kneaded his thumbs into Iruma’s hips.

“Ah —,” Iruma sucked in a breath. “GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHH!!!!!!”

Iruma’s nerve-endings jolted and his whole body spasmed. If he’d been taller, he might have smacked his head into Asmodeus’ chin. But as it was, Iruma was quite small, so he slammed his head back into the demon’s chest instead. He continued to scream incoherently.

“AHAHAHAHAYAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!! NAHAHAHAAHAHAH H-HEHEHEHEHELP MEHEHEHEHEHE S-SOMEBOHOHOHOHOHODY HEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Oh but Iruma-sama, you gave the tickle monster permission,” Asmodeus purred. “No one is coming to save you now.”

Iruma was much too busy with flailing and laughing to reply. He could barely think of anything except how much it tickled. What had they been doing before this? How long had it been? Was Azz-kun torturing him for real or just being playful? Such thoughts were long gone. His nerves were singing and he was trying to keep up.

“WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AZKHXJAHVIKAHVDX YAHAHAHAAHA”

The thing that finally brought Asmodeus out of his reverie was when Iruma’s laughter went silent. He knew the boy was stilling laughing, since he could feel the reverberations, but the room had gone silent. Then it really registered what that meant, and he quickly stopped. The boy kept laughing even after, slowly dying down into giggles. Asmodeus was too afraid to face him, so he wrapped both arms around Iruma and pulled him close to his chest.

“I am sorry, Iruma-sama. It seems I let my feelings get the better of me. I will need to continue training to make sure that i-it does… not happen again… please forgive me.”

There were a few moments of silence. Iruma’s heartbeat was still trying to return to a normal pace.

“Actually,” Iruma said, “it was… kind of fun….” he finished quietly. The tops of his ears were blazing red.

“I’ve never had a proper tickle fight with a friend, er well, it wasn’t much of a fight, but you know what I mean…”

“Y-you’ve never been tickled before?!” Asmodeus exclaimed.

“Well, maybe a couple times. But they aren’t super fond memories for me.” he paused. “But today was different. It wasn’t so bad in the beginning when you were being gentle. Then you started tickling harder and I definitely panicked a little, but honestly Azz-kun, it wasn’t so bad after all! Not being able to do anything but laugh turned out to be surprisingly relaxing. And, I feel safe… with you.” Iruma turned and looked up at him with a blinding smile.

Asmodeus’ heart soared and he found himself blushing and grinning uncontrollably. Iruma-sama is just so wonderful and thoughtful. He always knows just what to say to me.

“I-Iruma-sama, thank you!! I am so grateful for your trust!!” he beamed. “D-does this mean that…?!” he asked excitedly.

Iruma chuckled at his friend’s enthusiasm.

“Yeah, just remember to be gentle with me! And stop when I ask” he responded with a small grin.

“Of course, Iruma-sama!!!”

“And next time I want to be able to get you back!!” he said playfully.

“Absolutely! I will wait in anticipation, Iruma-sama!”

Asmodeus was sure he had never felt so happy and lucky in all his life.

[the-moth-archives]

♱Phantom & Aurora First Summoning (in-depth)♱

Type: Fluff

Word Count: 1382

Notes: eep ! thank you all for the love on my last fic ! it means the most to me ^^ I wrote this a few days after my other post because I wanted to ramble about it a little more and go into depth about how the ghouls treat the new summons - also, my requests are open !! I can pretty much write anything but no NSFW because I don't feel comfortable to write that :) I tried to read through and fix stuff !

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

once the young ghouls arrived in the summoning circle, they were dressed in rags, goo and dirt covered their hair and skin and there were some small cuts and bruises littered on their exposed skin

the 2 clung to each other and shook, feeling so small and vulnerable under the gaze of the other; but after the adrenaline of the summoning lowered, the ghouls started cooing and comforting the newly summoned ghouls. but it was Cumulus and Cirrus who shoved past the others to care and hold them

“oh you sweet things,, you’re both so adorable and so small,, oh! you must be hungry!” Cumulus cooed at the young ghouls, pinching their cheeks and taking their hands, pulling them all the way to the kitchen with Cirrus following close behind

everything was already set up, there was so much food, drinks and sweet treats spread around the dining room table. Phantom and Aurora drooled at the sight; they’ve never seen this much food in their time in the pit. they’d always have to fight tooth and nail for a small scrap

“don’t be shy sweethearts, grab a plate!” Cirrus came up behind them and pat their heads. Phantom and Aurora immediately started piling food onto their plates, fitting some pastries in their mouths when there was no more room left on the plate. the ghoulettes were so hypnotized by the young ghouls, they would feed them some of their own food and wipe their cheeks when they got dirty. the other ghouls wanted to pamper the new ghouls but whenever they got close, the ghoulettes growled in warning and actually nipped at Swiss when he got a little too close 

after the new summons were fed, the girls immediately rushed them to Cumulus’ big bathroom where a warm bath was drawn with all kinds of floral scented soaps and candles; they young ghouls felt like they were in heaven. Phantom and Aurora were both placed in the tub filled to the brim with bubbles as Cumulus and Cirrus got to work on bathing them. Cumulus massages Phantom’s scalp with her claws while Cirrus brushed conditioner through Aurora’s wet hair as the younger ghouls purrs echoed off the walls

Cumulus left briefly to gather some of the blankets her and Cirrus have slept with along with some pillow and other things that were full of their scent. Cirrus wrapped both of the ghouls in soft, fluffy towels and started applying lotion on the dry areas of skin they may have, especially on their horns and tails. Cumulus appeared in the door with some baggy sweat pants and t shirts that were worn by them for the ghouls to change into. Cirrus helped them into their new clothes and ushered them out of the bathroom and into the nest Cumulus worked so hard on

“aw, aren’t you two so adorable! i could eat you up right here!” Cirrus purred, pressing her cheek next to Aurora’s, purring back at the older ghoulette. Phantom was clinging onto Cumulus as she ran her nails up and down his back, tail swishing slowly every time her nails gently went up his back

“look at them both! so sleepy and full.” Cumulus whispered, kissing the crown of phantoms head. his purrs grew louder as he snuggled farther into her chest. the older ghoulettes both awed and played with Phantoms hair

Cirrus moved her and Aurora closer so the younger ghouls were pressed against each other while the ghoulettes shifted up so they could connect their heads and look down at the snuggling ghouls. the young ghouls cuddled against each other, finally feeling the warmth and safety they craved in the pit

“you two will be so loved here. you’ll always have a warm bed and hot food every day. we’re going to take such good care of you and spoil you rotten!” 

-

It took the Ghoulettes 4 days to finally let the younger ghouls go out and socialize with the others. Swiss was quick to sweep them up and do his own pamper session

he made them a hot plate of breakfast with many freshly grown and chopped fruits, meats, eggs and toast. the younger ghouls finally learned how to take their time with food now that they know it will always be there and will not be taken away but there’s still that looming fear, hence why they still eat pretty quickly but not fast enough to cause concern

after breakfast, Swiss took them off to his room where he had his own nest and snuggle pile with them. that’s when Dew and Rain came in to try to see the new “babies”, as the ghoulettes call them. the new summons were only a little younger then the rest so the pair was confused on why they were treated like toddlers,,

that was until Phantom and Aurora pulled them down to join the cuddle pile, did they finally understand. their scent was so sweet and inviting, they felt soft to the touch and their purrs were so relaxing to hear and feel the rumbling of their chests. don’t even get them started on the kneading; so gentle and slow it was almost hypnotizing. even after they fell asleep, the 3 older ghouls could not stop poking and talking about them. whenever one of them poked a little too hard, they would grumble and swat them away, snuggling closer to whoever they were attached to. that did not stop the older ones, it only encouraged them to keep playing with them

when they weren’t sleeping, they would be out in the gardens or in the living space, making themselves at home. and if they weren’t in either of those places, they were in their rooms that has now been decorated to their liking. 

Aurora’s room was very bright with antique dolls and unicorn toys on shelves and soft pink curtains that were somewhat see through. her bed was a circle bed pressed into one of the corners with pink sheets and stuffed toys laying bc across the pillows and walls as fluffy blankets laid flat across the bed. she had a small day bed/couch infront of her window so she can watch the outside. she also has a small makeup vanity with a pretty circle mirror. he walls were littered with ribbons and stickers and some polaroid pictures of her and the ghouls clipped onto some pastel star fairy lights

Phantoms room was almost the polar opposite - it was halloween and bat themed with a queen size bed in the middle of the room. the sheets were black with a fuzzy black and white skull  blanket folded at the end, halloween pillows and bat stuffed animals leaned against the pillows up top. the walls had patters of webs and mini spiders all going down in a line and fairy lights shaped as little ghosts. he had a desk where he had some sewing supplies, something he’d picked up from Cumulus. there were also polaroids of him and the other ghouls along with band posters he got from vinyl and cd cases plastered on the walls.

Mountain usually stayed clear, like he usually does, but the younger ghouls loved to spend time with him in the gardens

whenever Phantom and/or Aurora needed a quiet place to stay when it gets too overwhelming, Mountain always has the greenhouse door open for them. they usually quietly sit and watch Mountain water the plants or pick the fruits and vegetables that are ripe enough to harvest. sometimes they lay in the grassy part of the greenhouse and just stair up and soak in the sun. sometimes, when Mountain is taking notes or reading, the ghouls would lean against his shoulder and read with him or ask questions in a whisper. 

there was one time when Mountain had finally finished up in the greenhouse when he found both Phantom and Aurora curled into each other and softly snoring. Mountain smiled and picked up the two ghouls and brought them to the living room where his other mates were sitting and watching a movie. they all cooed at the sleeping ghouls as the ghoulettes took both of them into their arms, littering their faces with kisses as they grumbled from being woken up.

[amunisence]

Secret Admirer (Phobos x Reader)

Consider this a late Valentine's Day post. I've been working on this on and off since last year and decided to finish it up for February. Enjoy!

As a Science Tower intern, you love the opportunity to work on Project Nexus. This is despite the Director's high expectations. Due to your coworkers' gossip and overall stress from your tasks, your impressions of Director Phobos were negative before you had even met him. His reputation had truly preceded him.

It was your third day at the Science Tower when you first encountered the Director. You were being shown around the building by your superior, Dr. Christoff, as much as he could before returning to his tight schedule. This was out of courtesy since getting lost was rather common for you at that time (didn't help that everything looked the same to you)

"What are you doing?" a low commanding voice thundered from behind eliciting a small "Eep!" from you. You peeked over your shoulder to the tall grand figure that spoke just moments ago. You whipped your body around and scurried backwards away from the seething giant.

Christoff, to your surprise, was unphased, "I was simply giving the new intern a tour of the facility since the layout can be confusing for newcomers. Is that an issue, Director Phobos?"

That is Director Phobos?! You had seen the statues, but you had no idea the Director was this grand- he actuallywears the cape?!

"I can take it from here, Jebediah. Carry on."

You pondered what that meant as Dr. Christoff turned away from Director Phobos and walked off with clenched fists.

"You need not be afraid--it is only natural for such an awe-inspiring facility to intimidate a lowly intern such as yourself," the corners of his mouth tugged into a wide toothy grin, "That is why I shall personally give you a tour," Phobos said gesturing to himself pridefully, "Only a fool would refuse such a privilege."

You immediately caught on that Director Phobos thought very highly of himself. As if his regal cape wasn't enough, his manner of speaking more than accentuated his ego.

While you wanted to politely turn down his request, you're bright enough to figure out your tour with Dr. Christoff has been put on hold indefinitely. You needed someone to show you around. With a forced smile, you agree to allow the Director to give you the tour.

"Splendid! Wise choice," Director Phobos beamed. He proceeded to take you on a very long-winded yet memorable tour. Shockingly, you found yourself enjoying it. The Director would elaborate on the importance of certain sections (some you were sure you weren't allowed in anyway). You couldn't help but giggle at times when he would demand your coworkers to focus on their tasks despite causing a scene wherever he went. You found the stories he told made certain locations easier to remember; though you wondered if you even had the clearance to hear them.

After the tour to your own shock, your heart would start to pound relentlessly whenever the Director was nearby. For some reason, the special attention that he gave you that day left an impression on you. A very inconvenient one at that. These newfound feelings were difficult to manage alongside your work. That's why you decided to write Director Phobos an anonymous letter expressing these feelings and how they developed in hopes that it would help you move on. 

The first obstacle was getting this letter to the Director. You can't just waltz up to his office and slide a letter under his door right in front of security cameras! After all, who knows what could happen to you if he's displeased by your confession (especially from an intern).You even addressed it "God Emperor Phobos" in hopes of getting brownie points if he found out it was from you. Therefore, this task required a different approach.

For one week, you paid attention to any potential opportunities to slip your letter amongst his files without being detected. Before you knew it, the perfect one presented itself to you. After one particularly long and grueling meeting, the Director took Dr. Christoff aside and chastised him. While everyone else was preoccupied with leaving, you took a casual stroll past the Director's seat. You managed to slip your letter into his thick folder of paperwork undetected and escaped to the hallway. You breathed out while clutching your frantic heartbeat. You were positive your chest was about to burst any moment, but you had to continue as if nothing happened.

~

Phobos shut the door to his office. "How dare he." He about ended Dr. Christoff's life right where he stood back at the meeting. "Opposition to MY perfect vision?! Preposterous." Not only was he irritable from lackluster results on sleepwalkers, but now he had to snuff out a new growing "doubt" amidst his staff. In another fit of rage, he forced his bulky folder onto his desk with a substantial thud. An envelope slipped out from sheer force and landed before Phobos's feet. He knelt down and irritability nicked it off the ground. He didn't recognize the envelope. In fact, he didn't even remember having any mail that day. Assuming it was work related, Phobos grumbled and sat down at his desk.

"Hm?" he hummed in confusion as he glanced at the front of the envelope. There was nothing on it except for "God Emperor Phobos" written neatly in the center. It was rather informal looking to be work related. Phobos ripped open the envelope and slid out its contents. He unfolded the single piece of paper and found a hand written letter.

"To God Emperor Phobos,

My initial impressions of you were unreasonable, unapproachable, and insufferable. I have now, however, expanded my horizons and see there is so much more to you. Your zeal for the project is very admirable and motivating. Your grand presence fills whatever room you're in. The way you are able to give purpose to the most insignificant of us has given me a sort of pride I have never felt before.

Due to recent events, I have found myself thinking about you rather frequently. When you aren't occupying my thoughts, my heart pounds at the sight of you. Forgive me, I know it's silly to say such things in my position.

I do hope my words haven't troubled you or caused any issues. I've written this letter in hopes of moving on from these inappropriate feelings.

Sincerely,

Your Secret Admirer"

Phobos sighed out as he finished reading the letter with one hand partially covering his face. At first, he didn't know what to make of it. One thing he knew for sure though was that his anger had oddly vanished after reading it. Perhaps I read it too fast. He thought and reread the letter figuring its contents hadn't sunk in properly. Then it happened--he smiled. Genuinely. Nothing like the prideful grin he usually wears. He also couldn't help but laugh at the innocence of the letter's contents but in an endearing way--not from a stance of superiority. Phobos even felt his own heart skip a beat from his secret admirer's confession.

"Oh Secret Admirer, you flatter me and have made my day. But who are you? I simply must know." 

Phobos continued to ponder this into the next day. He had trouble focusing on the most trivial of things as if the letter had put him under a spell. In what little downtime he had, Phobos wracked his brain for any clues to who his secret admirer could be.

"S-Sir?"

Phobos broke out of his trance and found you in front of his desk with a fresh cup of coffee.

"Ar-Are you alright, sir?"

"Yes, yes, I was just... you know..." He didn't finish his sentence which felt odd to you.

"Well, I have your coffee. I'll just set it here." While placing the mug on a coaster near his stationary, you couldn't help but be flustered under his gaze. The letter hadn't helped like you hoped it would. Not only does your heart rate still increase in his presence, but now your face gets absolutely flushed. As your own eyes happened to glance over his desk, you stopped for but a moment. Your temporary paralysis was caused by the sight of your letter on the Director Phobos's desk. As brief a pause as it was, your whole demeanor had changed in a single moment.

A single moment that Phobos had unfortunately observed: your stiffened composure, your startled expression, and your hushed gasp. You quickly moved away from his desk and attempted to leave in an effort to preserve what little dignity you had left.

"How has your internship been so far?" Phobos asked you casually.

You think for only a few seconds before saying, "Like any job, it can be stressful, but I feel like I'm given a purpose here. Project Nexus has given me a sort of pride I-"

"-have never felt before. Is that correct?"

To your horror, Phobos, letter in hand, had used your own words against you. Everything inside you wanted to apologize profusely for the letter. However, you stayed silent bracing yourself for the worst with your head down in flustered embarrassment.

"You know, it was peculiar. When my disgruntled self returned to my office yesterday, I came across this letter haphazardly tucked into the folder from the last meeting I attended. When I read this letter, it turned out to be a confession from a secret admirer. At first, I was stunned. My anger had vanished, and I felt... elated," he paused and stood up.

"This letter had both flattered me and improved my mood. I was so tickled and delighted by this note that I decided right then that I needed to find my secret admirer and offer my gratitude." Phobos moved out from behind his desk and slowly approached your blushing figure. He placed a finger beneath your jaw and gently tugged your chin to face him. "Thank you."

[iseethatimicy]

Hello, I saw your requests open and I wanted ask,, Could I have some hcs where Cater, Trey, Leona and Azul (separately) sees their s/o getting a keychain to match with them?

— ♦️ 💀

Cater, Trey, Leona and Azul seeing their S/O getting a keychain to match with them!

Note: Eep, I think this prompt is really cute! <3 I chose not to write Leona's part because it was very wonky and I didn't know how to write him so sorry about that :< Characters: Cater, Trey, and Azul Genre: Fluff

───────── ∙ ~εïз~ ∙ ─────────

It was just a peaceful day, scrolling through your phone as usual. Something peculiar catches your eye, an advertisement for keychains. You do have some money left over and you choose to buy a...

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

You chose to buy an Octopus Keychain. It was a small, purple octopus with black orbs for eyes that hung by a thin lavender string. The Octopus keychain represents Wisdom and Benevolence, It had drawn your attention and you couldn't help but buy it, after all it does reminds you of Octavinelle Dorm's Housewarden. It came with another key chain, but this time it's a gold shell that was held on by a gorgeous silver chain. It resembled the necklace the Sea Witch had worn, whoever made the matching keychain set seemed to have put a lot of effort into the charms. When you first approached him with the key chains, he stared at awe at first. When you gave him the Octopus Keychain, He seems surprised at how squishy and jelly-like the octopus key charm is, but it's a pleasant surprise - it's actually quite cute and fun to play with. He adores the fun smile on your face as you squeeze the "Azul Jr." key charm, he loves to see your joy, your silly laugh, and your precious smile.

"My Angelfish, How can I repay you back? This is truly a wonderful gift. No? But I insist sweetheart! Please, what do you wish for?"

❥ Cater Diamond

You chose to buy a Diamond Keychain. The diamond keychain catches your attention immediately and you can't help but buy it. You're not sure why you're drawn to it, but it reminds you of Cater Diamond. The keychain is a carefully crafted crimson jewel shaped like a Diamond Suit. The red diamond that hung from the chain represented beauty, love, and strength. When he first saw it, He fell in love. He had his phone out and had took photos all over, fawning at your pretty red keychain! The charm was even small enough to be the same size as the diamond face paint on his cheek. He thinks it would be cute to get a key charm of your signature symbol, so he could match with his beloved! Next thing you know, your magicam feed is bombarded with 100+ posts about your matching keychains.

"Like my key chain boo? I thought it would be nice to match with you, after all you're too stunning. Now, wanna take a pic for magicam? I bet everyone will fawn over it!"

❥ Trey Clover

You chose to buy a Clover Keychain. It reminds you of your beloved boyfriend, Trey Clover. It was shaped like a three-leaf clover and it had a simple sage green chain that held it. The clover keychain is a symbol of luck and prosperity. He thinks It's cute that you got a keychain with the thought of him in your head. He must say, the charm is small enough to be the same size as his Clubs face paint. He might as well buy a boquuet of Flowers, bake you a bowl of delicious sweets (or a ring) On your doorstep was a pastel green giftbox with a neatly wrapped Honeydew-colored ribbon. When you opened it up, it was a box of your favorite treat.

"Oh sweetheart, Did you really have to spend money on a keychain for me? I think it's cute, Maybe a bundle of sweets would be enough to pay back, yes?"

───────── ∙ ~εïз~ ∙ ─────────

I do not consent for my work to be plagiarized or copied. If you would like to make a similar idea, please credit @iseethatimicy.

[desultory-novice]

I like a lot of your Kirby headcannons! I wouldn't call myself a Marx/Magolor shipper, but I understand why others would and I don't mind it. Friends, lovers, or enemies, those two certainly bounce off each other very well. And VERY entertainingly!

Thanks! 

It's funny to receive this ask tonight, because I really debated if I was going to post that illust or not. I actually worried it was (...eep!) "too cringe." When I first joined the fandom I was a~ll about Marx and Magolor being all the time sad gay boyfriends. (And this piece was something I originally started drawing like three months ago.)

But I find that though I still dearly love them ~together~ I'm more and more happy with exactly that! Just seeing them in the same place interacting with each other! As b(oy)f(friends) or b(est) f(riends).

...I mean, I'm not going to lie: when it comes to couples, I prefer them with each other drastically more than I prefer either of them with anyone else (no offense to the other Magolor ships - and lets be honest, Magolor is the one everyone's competing for! Marx is not Popstar's most desirable bachelor XD ) so I still wear the badge of a Marxolor shipper! And I'll tag stuff as Marxolor if I think they're being significantly feelsy (physical or emotional) with each other.

Plus I've got several more things cooking with them being very visibly "each other's most important person!" but I've gotta say that Manager Magolor was such a departure from how I'd been characterizing post-canon Magolor it's actually been a little hard to write their game-selves as the same trauma-bonded couple I waxed poetic about in my big "ramble about Marxolor" post.

I feel like the desire to be true to their (or at least Magolor's) characterization has necessitated me expanding the ways I portray them going forward. Which is not itself a bad thing!

[dragonbard-bastard]

Started writing down what I did today to make lil summary posts cuz I've seen people do that before and like the idea of sharing more about my runs :)

Act 1 Spoilers!

The first thing I did was talk to Omeluum and Blurg, and I js wanna say I love them :) they're so husbands. We also went to the Arcane Tower and unlocked it and such, very nice, got the timmask spores and tongue of madness, forgot to go back to Blurg and Omeluum. Oops. Discovered that the tower has a BASEMENT!?

Spent a lot of time talking to corpses for fun. Canonically Soph would never- he'd rarely ever touch necrotic magic of any kind of ever. It would also freak him tf out.

We got Astarion's Sussur dagger!!! It's probably one of my favorite weapons in the early game, fuck them spellcasters fr. ALSO since I'm playing Tactician and long rests cost 80 camp supplies rather than fourth I've been very greedy with it so when we went into the Underdark Astarion was like "Hey .. Can I ermm tell you something. I'm. I'm a vampire." and Soph just said "Duh" and moved on 😭😭😭

Also for the not long resting reason Wyll only recently got his horns. Told Mizora to fuck off, and of COURSE called Wyll a handsome devil. Am growing increasingly aggravated as time goes on, however, about a lack of Wyll content. He literally won't even say well met anymore he has ONE LINE. no variety, just "You have something to ask?"

Dug up a dog's grave. I'm so sorry Myrna. Apologized by putting some flowers and a candle on it, it was all I had unfortunately.

I actually long rested twice in an row, one without using any camp supplies ofc, because I wanted the invisible Durge cape and it's actually shockingly good on Soph. I should probably give it to Astarion but I don't want to :(

Went to the mountain pass because I didn't want to go to grymforge, stole everything from the bitch who wanted the githyanki egg then murdered her because I hate her and what the fuck

fought the gremishkas (Astarion one shot a surprising AMT of them, it was awesome) and the Kobold. I tried to blow up as little of the wine as I could because more camp supplies, and found out you can apparently pocket the fire wine barrels with kobold still on them. This will be incredibly funny when I use the barrels as bombs later. DAMN I FORGOT TO TAKE A SS OF MY BARREL BOMB COLLECTION. Here's one from yesterday, though it's grown.

went to creche y'llek . went to the zaithisk, let Lae'zel use it, did this on the first persuasion check, did not use an inspiration.

Absolutely brutalized the bitches outside of the infirmary, I put an oil barrel underneath one of the light fixtures then shot it down at the start of the fight 😭😭😭

went to fight kith'rak therezynn, remembered why I ate the mountain pass. had to reload like three times until I was like fuck this Wyll go home Gale use arcane lock on this stupid door and then it was going decently well Lae'zel knocked the soul breaker out of her hands and later got her own weapon knocked out of her hands, perfect time to switch to the soul breaker I'd say. near the end of the fight a random fucking raider spawned right next to therezynn. just poof. right into existence. I was floored and slightly annoyed but therezynn hit him w a burning hands and took off half his health anyways???

Soph told the Inquisitor he can't have the weapon, the Inquisitor did not like this. Lae'zel stole his sword too and nearly killed him in four hits. He did become a pain in the ass w the mind steal link tho because oml he stole his own teammates minds or whatever. didn't know he'd do that. Wyll went down to this ranged attacker multiple times and I tried to use heat metal on him but he WASNT METAL. BULLSHIT. LOOK AT ALL THAT M E T A L.

Anyways, Soph got pissed about them hurting Wyll, went crazy went stupid, murdered the absolutely 100% has metal on him guy and one of the last spellcasters. told vlaakith to fuck off, visited the dream visitor, said get up boy I ain't killing you, signed off, and will now go eep.

Ty for reading :3

[lauramkaye]

In case you're wondering where I've been...

I was writing a Yuletide! For the first time in I don't know HOW long. It was good to get back and I am pretty happy with what I was able to do!

Now I have 3.5 days to finish a quilt that is a Christmas present (eep) and do other holiday-adjacent things and THEN I should be able to resume regular operations.

What's coming next:

My Yuletide story!

The rest of "The Ritual of Commitment" (two chapters to go! Depending on how everything else this week shakes out, one of those chapters might actually come out before Yuletide reveals.)

The last chapter of Keeps Getting Harder To Find (I'm SO EXCITED about this chapter, y'all. So. Excited. Stuff Happens in that chapter that leads directly into like four other planned stories in the series and I've been biting my tongue and not talking about it for MONTHS because I didn't want to spoil it.)

PROBABLY after that I will begin posting Operation Starbird. I didn't finish it during NaNo, because of COVID (bleh), but I have a very robust outline and a good chunk of the draft.

I am noodling around with another chapter (or possibly two) of "The Daimyo and the Huttslayer" so if I get something in postable shape in between the longer stuff, you may see it pop up!

Honestly I cannot WAIT to finish chapter 12 of KGHTF. Without giving too much away, I can reveal that it is the first and only chapter in the story - well, let's be honest, it's a BOOK now - that alternates between Boba and Kix POV, and this is because EVERYONE* COMES TO TATOOINE FOR THE RIDUUROK and HIJINKS ENSUE.

Featuring:

The Mudhorn Invitational

Kix's POV is nicknamed "Team Chaos" in the outline and Boba's is nicknamed "Team Drama"

The long-awaited reunion of the Daimyo and the Huttslayer

The answer to one mystery that people have asked me about and two bonus mysteries that nobody has yet

Hilariously terrible bootleg Royal Wedding merchandise

Kix taking his role as Surgeon General of Tatooine extremely seriously

Fennec Shand encouraging chaos for her own amusement

A cameo by the Star Wars version of Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler

Boba Fett accidentally saves the galaxy** by being a little petty and wanting to annoy Han Solo

A daring escape involving the space version of a panel van with a wizard mural airbrushed onto it

Giant foam fingers that look like Din and/or Boba's gauntlets

20+ years was not enough time for it to stop being true that having more than one member of the 501st present in one place at one time is a recipe for CHAOS

*not actually everyone but a LOT of people **well not RIGHT THEN but he sets the events that WILL save the galaxy in motion

[sorrygotthesesacks]

Response to fic request (Malleus, Idia)

For @moody-b1tch, the only person who responded to my "give me two characters and I'll write a few lines of dialogue" invitation.

Which is probably a good thing, because this is ... I don't even know what this is.

Characters: Malleus, Idia, with extra bonus prompt: water

Which is included...metaphorically, I guess.

As usual, this kinda got away from me. Don't think it's good enough to post on AO3 - it's hardly good enough to post here on Tumblr - but it's 1221 words and I do love when the word count is a fun number like that.

Also: TIL that Tumblr has a limit of 30 tags per post. How did I learn this? No reason in particular.

Also also: It used to be 1221 words and then I panicked and rewrote some of it.

“Sometimes it’s better to forget. Pretend it never happened.”

“Is that how you truly feel, Shroud?”

“Gah! You look like you’re ready to incinerate me! Not that I think you’re gonna go all OP again. … Uh, you’re not, right?”

“It would be foolish to repeat such folly. Surely you, of all people, can agree.”

“Of course I agree! I’m just like. Not used to this heart-to-heart protag chat. I’m not some shounen manga hero with an 'I'm-all-fired-up!' speech, and even if I was, it’d be pretty cringe coming from me. Your guards are good at that sorta thing. Especially the big guy. He seriously likes to talk! Or Silver. He’s got that intense princely vibe.”

“Silver and Sebek have had much to say, but it is your thoughts that I am most interested in hearing.”

“Because I’m one of the SSR level problem children? You could talk to anyone else about this! Leona, he was big mad. Your guards were there; they can vouch. Or Riddle! That hothead was the first. He probably has some S tier thoughts on his experience.”

“SSR…? Shroud, I am interested in your thoughts. You hold the power to enter the underworld. To speak with those who have crossed to the other side.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I can open the gate, but that was a one-time thing, going down there. You saw how that turned out.”

“I did not. I was at Night Raven College, if you recall.”

“Of course you were here. After you went all berserker mode, I don’t think Charon would’ve been enough to get you to the Island of Woe.”

“You could have simply invited me.”

“Invite the great and powerful Malleus to play a sim game? Are you for real?”

“I am quite real.”

“That’s not - yeah, okay. Anyway, it’s more like a curse, the gate opening thing, and not Pumpkin Knight level cool.”

“Is it not? Shoenheit, Rosehearts, and Kingscholar all mentioned that the closer one travels to Tartarus, the colder it gets.”

“I meant it wasn’t exactly fire. Not like … dragon fire, fire. I mean, it’s not…”

“Shroud. I am merely teasing. Is that not what friends do? Lilia and the Child of Man assure me that it is.”

“Friends?”

“We have spent time together. We have shared experiences. Are you telling me that is not common with friends?”

“You sound like Ortho.”

“Your sibling is wise indeed. I understand that it was he who prevented you from using your River Lethe. Come now, Shroud, surely you can agree that at least some of those memories were to be cherished.”

(Eep! Is he serious? Even if I had an IRL trap card to flip this, could I even use one against someone as OP as him?)

“Shroud, are you unwell?”

“I’m f-fine! HP is at max. Wait, what are you doing?”

“Calling Lilia so that he may assist me in translating.”

(Gah, is he really using a synchro summon?) “You don’t need to do that!”

“It appears I cannot. My phone screen is blank. Lilia will be rather cross.”

“Your phone’s broken?”

“It happens frequently. Lilia has told me many times to be careful. My lightning has broken several phones just this semester alone.”

“I, uh, can fix it.”

“You would do that?”

“Hee hee. It just needs to withstand high electrical input. EZ PZ.”

“Lemon squeezy.”

(Did he seriously just say ‘lemon squeezy?’)

“Shroud?”

“EEP! I mean, I was just surprised to hear you say that.”

“Is that not how it goes?”

“No! You got it right! It’s just weird hearing it from the Malleus Draconia.”

“Why is that?”

“It just is! Let me see your phone. I mean, if you trust me with it.”

“Here. You cannot possibly damage it more than I have.”

“How old is this phone? I haven’t seen one of these since pre-5G.”

“Can you repair it?”

“Of course I can fix it, but it needs a serious upgrade.”

“What would you like in exchange?”

“Huh? You don’t have to give me anything!”

“Of course. Because we we are friends.”

“No, we're not!"

“Is there something about myself that causes you hesitation?”

“It’s not that. It’s not you, it’s me.”

“I, too, would like everyone to forget what happened. What I did. The lengths to which I went in order to selfishly hold on to something - to someone - who is dear to me.”

“Where is all this heart-to-heart coming from?”

“If we are to be friends, we should be honest with one another. I have learned that by watching Lilia with Diamond and Al-Asim, and by listening to Silver and Sebek. It is not an easy thing, but I must start somewhere.”

“Why are you starting with me?”

“Because we have a shared experience. This ‘SRR problem child’ status.”

“SSR.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ah, the uh, it’s SSR, not SRR. It stands for Super Super Rare.”

“That makes what we share uncommon.”

“Yeah, you, me, and five other people. Uh, here’s your phone.”

“You are done with it already?”

“I couldn’t upgrade it more with what I have here, but the screen is fixed, and it has lightning fast internet speed. No pun intended!”

“You do get so easily flustered around me. You are an interesting man, Shroud. Oh, I see Lilia has been trying to reach me. We must do this again.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Until we meet again.”

“Yeah, kthxbai.”

“Idia? Was that Malleus Draconia who just disappeared into thin air?”

“Hey, Ortho. Yeah.”

“You have made another new friend!”

“We’re not friends! My HP is critically low after that.”

“Your heart rate is accelerated, but the rest of your vital signs are within normal ranges. And I clearly heard Malleus Draconia state that you are friends!”

“I know you mean well, Ortho, but-”

“I think he needs a friend, too.”

“Malleus Draconia? Needing a friend?”

“We have spent time together. We have shared experiences. This ‘SRR problem child’ status.”

“Idia?”

“Yeah, Ortho?”

“You’re smiling.”

“I was just thinking about the new volume of the Mew Mew Chronicles manga!”

“Yes, I remember. It arrived in the mail just this morning.”

“So of course I’m excited. It’s the only good thing that’s happened since all of this started. I’m, uh, going to the store to pick up some snacks, if you want to go with me.”

(Your heart rate and eye movement tell me otherwise, Big Brother, but I am happy to see you happy.) “Of course! I’m interested in seeing the ingredients in this new mystery flavored fruit twist that Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade were arguing over.”

“It can’t be worse than last year’s pineapple-lemon-licorice mystery flavor.”

Ortho remembered that. It had been very popular the first two weeks, with numerous reactions posted to Magicam. After that, the only person purchasing it had been Lilia Vanrouge. His eyes lit up.

“You should buy some for Malleus Draconia and Lilia Vanrouge! And Silver and Sebek Zigvolt, too! And Cater Diamond, and Rook Hunt, and…”

By the time they were done, they’d purchased a mystery flavored candy twist for all of the third year students, all of the housewardens, plus Silver and Sebek Zigvolt, Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade, the Ramshackle prefect, and Grim (especially Grim).

Ortho’s analysis of the candy indicated the primary flavors were seaweed and cinnamon, and he could hardly wait to see everyone’s reactions.

Everyone's, but especially Idia’s newest friend, Malleus Draconia.

[writinglittlemagics]

Check my pinned post for a general account update, but here is a little creative writing piece! This was published as a part of the Canon Future Authors program in 2022, and I haven’t done anything with it since. It’s just a fun time with two kiddos making mischief :]

The Covert Cookie Caper

“Valerie, what are you doing?” Finley, my best friend, looks over to where I’m sitting on the floor, twisting a wire hanger into a hook.

“Nothing,” I mutter, tongue peeking out from the gap where my front tooth used to be.

“Val, that looks like a weapon. Why are you messing with a hanger? Can’t we just go get cereal or something?” Finley rolls from where she's lying on the air mattress to join me on the carpet, letting out a soft ‘eep’ when she lands. She casts a suspicious look, one that is unwarranted. Playing with a hanger is totally a normal activity for 9:00 in the morning.

“Do you smell that?”

“What, the juice you spilled last night? No.”

“No dummy, forget the juice. Zio Matteo just started the first batch of brownies. That means marzipan cookies will be done soon.” The aroma of chocolate has been faintly drifting in for about twenty minutes, but now the brownies are almost done. The smell is irresistible. My room is directly above the bakery, and my uncles are down there now, preparing for the day. Every sniff is like heaven.

“So what Valerie? Did you forget that we’re banned from the bakery? Your uncle was very clear that we are not to even go near the kitchen because of your last idea.” She should know by now that a stupid ban isn't going to stop me. I’m a master of stealth; a champion of trickery! Zio Benicio knows that; he’s just trying to cut me off. And he knows Zio Matteo will feed me anyways.

“So we can’t walk downstairs. Big deal! We can crawl down instead! The vents are connected all the way down, and the covers are just on magnets. I hide stuff in there all the time.” I lift up my wire hook thingy. “I just need to pull the cover off in the hallway and then push it off in the kitchen, easy as cake.” I think this is one of my best plans yet.

“Are you insane? That’s a terrible idea!! The vents are all dusty and gross, there are probably rats! And all that dust will make me wheezy, you know that.” Finley immediately enters panic mode. This is just part of the routine: I come up with a great idea, Fin freaks out, I convince her, we do it, everything works! Sometimes.

“It’ll be fine! There aren’t any rats, it’s not that dusty, and you have your inhaler in your bag. It’s just a short crawl and we’ll get all the bakery rejects! Come on. Don’t you want a cookie?”

“Not if it means I have to go through a creepy tunnel!”

“Please Fin?” I grab her hands and shake her arms for a second before she concedes. “Fine. But you go first.”

“Yes! This will be great.” Once I get the cover off, I turn to Finley, who’s making a face like that one time I dared her to try a lemon warhead. “Off we go! It’ll be fine. Finley, trust me!”

“Why do I even listen to you? This is creepy! I swear, if I see a single rat or spider, you're dead to me. Instant friendship K.O.”

“Oh get over it, Fin! Besides, if you keep yelling at me, you won't notice the spiders crawling in your ears and laying eggs.” The darkness of the tunnel masks the grin spreading across my face, not that Fin, who is straggling behind me could see it. Then, I hear a shriek, a bang, and an “oww.” In that order.

“Valerie, you are the worst. Can we just get out of this stupid vent already? I told you this was dumb! Your uncles are going to kill us. I swear, I’m never listening to you ever again.” Finley moans.

Just so we’re clear, it’s definitely going to happen again. She says this at least twice a week, basically anytime I rope her into one of my ideas. She likes to pretend she hates them, but I know she’s having fun. Besides, I have great ideas. Incredible ideas, even. Things just happen to get in the way.

“I told you. This is the easiest way to get down to the bakery without Uncle Benny noticing. I know for a fact that you want a fresh pastry just as bad as I do. Even if it is one of your gross ‘allergen-free’ ones. Also, if I don't stuff my face with chocolate within the next hour, I might punch someone.” A beat. “And it’ll probably be you so we should hurry.” I snicker while Finley groans.

“Why couldn’t I have a normal friend? Why did I get stuck with the one who would rather crawl in dark tunnels than sleep in?”

I just roll my eyes.

“What did I do to deserve this silver death trap?!” All of a sudden, Finley stops behind me. I swivel my head, searching for the problem, but the space doesn’t allow it. Then I hear it.

“Valerie, what was that noise? Val... Val...Val! What is that?” Finley’s breathing stutters behind me. I have no clue what it is. It doesn’t sound like any rodent. It’s more like a dull thumping on the metal beneath my knees. The pounding on the tunnel increases in time with my heart rate.

“I have no idea! Just... just crawl forward!” I start to quicken my pace as I follow the shaft forward.

“Forward?? Why would we go forward? We should go back!” Finley stays stuck to the spot, shallow breaths echoing through the tunnel.

“That’ll take forever, just crawl faster!!” I try to hide my panic, but my voice jumps an octave. We start crawling as fast as we can and all of a sudden, light fills the dark tunnel. The front of the vent pops off from the outside. We both freeze as Uncle Benicio peers in at us disapprovingly, tapping his broomstick lightly against the shaft. I give him a guilty grin and attempt to shrug my shoulders in the tight space.

“Your cookies smell great, Zio Benny.” Finley groans behind me before it tapers into a wheeze. She always refuses to show how much my plans amuse her. I suppose it makes sense, someone has to at least pretend to be a good influence in this friendship.

“Nipotes that scare away my customers with their escapades get no cookies,” Uncle Benicio huffs. “And neither do best friends who should have stopped them.”

I wince at that. I hate when Finley gets blamed for my plans. Plus, she’s always been sensitive. While I spend most of my school days laughing at my own jokes in the ‘naughty corner’, Finley is always the first to apologize to the teacher with her big watery eyes downcast. I almost wish she wasn’t so quick to go along with me, but it wouldn’t be fun without her.

“Zio Benny, super sorry, hate to ask really, but can you let us out? Fin might need her inhaler pretty soon.”

“Oh yes, yes come on girls,” Zio Benicio says while he hurries to help us out. “Honestly Valerie, you are nearly eleven, you should know better. What was this, a bank heist?”

I scamper out of the tunnel and rush to help Finley down the ladder. Once she is out of the musty vent shaft, she seems much more comfortable. I give her a look, trying to see if she’s going to collapse or something, but she won’t meet my eye, choosing to instead stare at the ground and shuffle her feet.

“Oh, come on, Zio, at least give Finley one. She tried to stop me, but you know how much of a mulo I am.” I know that whining isn’t the best approach, but I really do feel bad. “I’m sorry I scared away your customers.” I probably should have started with that. Finley sneezes, a stuffy, squeaky kind of noise, and I’m struck again by my guilt.

“You should’ve known better, Piccola. Not only was that stupid, but it was dangerous.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do? You cut us off! A girl has to get her sugar fix somehow,” I retort while giving Finley a once over. “You wouldn’t even let us help in the kitchen with Zio Matteo, even though he said we were great helpers-”

“I scraped bombolone off of the ceiling.” Zio Benicio deadpans. Finley does a kind of half-snort half-wheeze noise behind me.

He stares down disapprovingly and I tip my head up to meet his eyes. He raises a thick eyebrow and I cross my arms. I have to stand my ground if I want a cookie. I got this. I can out stare him anyday. I can do this.

I can’t do it.

“So does this mean we can go get the reject cookies? We’re starving, Zio,” I plead with whimpering eyes, finally giving up my glare.

“Only after you sweep the store.” Zio Benicio thrusts the broom towards me. I throw my head back and groan, taking the broom and trudging away to deal with my chore. Finley turns to the supply closet to grab the dustpan.

“Fin, you don’t have to-” I start but she waves off my attempt with a hand before pointing me towards the tables.

I hate sweeping, and Finley’s still a little sniffly, but with cookies on the line? Totally worth it.

[pastelwell]

As you guys know, I watched Hannibal for the first time this year and developed incurable hannigram brainrot so here I am, presenting you with a fic ✨ it’s like I’m 8 years late to the party but I’ve just arrived holding the birthday cake, eep.

Anyway, if you know me you know I had to write the most slow burn intensely charged sex scene I could possibly conjure, lol, I hope you like it :3 let me know if you do bc I prob have more fics in the tank, I think I’m going to be rotating them in my head for quite a while. I did start writing a post S3 thing but idk, we’ll see how this goes 🤗

~

Begin to blur

Rating: E

PREVIEW:

“You seem tense,” Hannibal muses, he’s returned to his writing, thumb at the corner of his page to hold it in place and Will has never more deeply envied an inanimate object, “Are you anxious?”

Will swallows, assembling an appropriate answer that best describes the churning in his chest, the maelstrom of discontent that bubbles up inside him whenever he thinks about what tomorrow could bring, “I feel like a rabbit. Circling an island that’s steadily flooding. Frantic. Desperate. Waiting to drown.”

Hannibal considers this statement, “You realise rabbits can swim, Will.”

Will looks at him, eyes roving his face, the blade-like sharpness of his cheekbones, “When threatened.”

“When threatened,” Hannibal repeats, setting down his pen, “I think most animals could be coerced into a habitat that isn’t their own when they feel fear. Even humans.”

“I’m not afraid,” Will says. He hadn’t really meant to say it, it just comes out of him, quiet like a prayer, like a promise.

Read more

[ritabuuk]

Dunsparce, Tangrowth, and Bidoof!

Two Bidoofs! Bidooves? Bideef?

@devilrose and I are testing out some different Android apps for drawing, since, to be fair, the last time we checked on what was available was like ten years ago at this point. Eep! And, later, we are thinking to do a write up on our findings of each app we try.

The first we've tested is Autodesk Sketchbook. We had heard about it before, all good things, but it used to only be available for Apple devices. But now we can draw with it on Android too! As part of testing it out, I made three drawings: one with Dunsparce, one with Tangrowth, and one with two Bidoof.

I currently don't feel comfortable posting my newest art directly on Tumblr, but you can see it on my personal site and on Cohost.

[skepsiss]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by @strangersteddierthings, I've never even thought about half of these questions, so.... we're gunna go on a journey together. I MISSED SEVERAL QUESTIONS LMAO. LEMME UPDATE.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

18 (I only post like 1/3 of my fics on AO3)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

66,922. I pay such little attention to this kinda stuff xD

3. What fandoms do you write for?

A lot... and a lot more than what is listed on my AO3. If we're friends I'll literally just message you a 2k+ fic in a DM for funsies.

Stranger Things (TV 2016) (8)

Overwatch (Video Game) (5)

Teen Wolf (TV) (1)

Castlevania (Cartoon 2017-2021) (1)

Critical Role (Web Series) (1)

Promare (2019) (1)

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018) (1)

DC Comics / Batman (Tim Drake / Kon-El)

Orphan Black

Marvel (Steve/Tony)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Basket Ball Shorts

Roadrat: The Fire that Covered the World

The Comfort of Warmth (Lio/Galo)

Fifty-fifty (Roadhog / Junkrat)

Perspective (Caleb / Essek)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes. As soon as I see them I will reply with a thank you or to engage with someone's question/musings/etc.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably a Roadrat one. It's been a while since I've read my work, but The Things They Lost is a Roadrat fic where I explored a bunch of like... when Junkrat lost his arm and stuff like that. Brutal, tbh. Next closest is my Alucard (OT3) Castlevania fic where he is BIG SAD about Trevor and Sypha not being there. Nights Spent Alone.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

UUuhhhuhuhuh..... I mostly write sad shit LOL. Milkshakes has a happy ending. It's a 2 part modern-day Steddie fic about the boys asking each other out on a date over Instagram.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've never seen any hate on my fics before.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Uhh, yeah. I do. PWP or With Plot. I like full stories that have smut that BELONGS there, but then we've got just straight-up PWP. That is what Basketball short is tbh.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No, never written a crossover. I've written lots of AUs though.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No. Dunno how I'd figure that out.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope. Dunno what that would look like tbh.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Steddie; for right now. My other top 3 are Harley/Ivy, Tim/Kon-El, and Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

NO IDEA. Lol, all my unfinished WIPs are either ones I have no interest in finishing (Roadrat), or ones I can complete faith in being able to finish (Steddie)

16. What are your writing strengths?

Speed. I can compose a story very quickly and put it together.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I never promote myself/share. I'm really bad at sharing my works. Additionally, I'm bad at finishing things before I lose interest.... eep.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Uuhh maybe. I def have some Ancient Greek and Latin in my up-coming Robin (Stobin platonic) fic.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I'm not sure... maybe Batman (Tim/Jason or Tim/Kon). I RP'd A LOT from ages 13-18 and had like 5-8 rps going at once for a whole bunch of fandoms. (Naruto, OCs in the Star Wars universe, Tim/Kon, and more I can't remember atm).

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Ooohhh, I dunno. I'm bad at picking favourites. Right now I'm pretty proud of my Because I Want You Steddie fic. It's Steve and Eddie as 30-year-olds with kids. They broke up in their 20s and are trying to get back together in their 30s. Eddie has a complete breakdown in it, but Steve is there to tell him that he loves him.

I don't think about this stuff at all xDDD Fic writing is just a pass time for me. This will be the first time EVER in over 18 years of writing fic that I've EVER participated in an exchange/Big Bang. I'll tag @medusapelagia @oh-stars @br0ck-eddie @kallisto-k