#okay so now what

[springsylph]

// lucky charm

low honor!arthur morgan x female reader. mdni. dub-con fondling. i typed this on my phone and she’s unedited and and and and—

arthur knows dutch has his eye on you.

he’s got you by your elbow when he drags you back from the parlour house out in rhodes to meet the gang. assuages the concerns of having another mouth to pile food into with a long-winded account of your potential for pocket nibbling. you’d have nearly bested him, he says, if not for his reflexes. but arthur gets the feeling that it’s another one of his embellishments when you turn your cheek to look at a patch of dirt.

by the time he’s done, most have had enough time to take in the waxy pallor, the fact that you’ve been traveling alone, because what lady travels alone in these parts? in any parts? so the girls—save for molly—crowd in, pull your gills from his hook and shuffle you off to change you out of those dirty clothes before that wax starts to melt.

dutch is your second shadow around camp after that. telling you how smart you are for listening to his advice. smart is in short supply these days, apparently. he whispers it to you one night over the barrel that doubles as a table and a den for his rum.

(expensive—always expensive at night.)

he mentions that he saw you reading earlier, that’s good; it’ll be real helpful for something he’s got planned later. haven’t touched your rum, he reminds you. pushes the golden liquid toward your limp hand. it’s the good stuff—don’t tell mrs. grimshaw. oh, you don’t drink? no, no, that’s alright. fine by him. so he dumps what he’s poured into your glass into his while you take a dry gulp. he asks if you’ve got any family, pushes his knee just between where one of yours hugs the barrel, and the night noises seem to get louder.

not a one? oh, you poor thing—

and by this point, arthur’s already stuffed the heel of his hand into his ear to block out what he can and go to sleep. molly’ll pull dutch away at some point, anyhow.

so yes. arthur knows dutch has his eye on you.

(it’s just, he’s not quite sure he likes dutch right now.

but he loves a good joke.)

so when he catches you trying to put bullets through empty bottles out in the woods a week later, he crawls into your space. says looking pretty wont get you that shot.

you make it almost too easy for him. arthur watches as you shrink, and expand, and shrink again. you’re tripping over your sentences, and he thinks you bite the inside of your cheek one too many times, but you make him a deal: three bottles down in 15 seconds, and he has to take you out on a supply run.

your plan goes to shit, of course.

but arthur is nothing if not benevolent, so he brings you along anyways. tells you to stay close. no, a little closer than that. s’your head screwed on backwards, girl?

he’s not sure how you’ve managed to make it out here so long, so when he presses a searing palm to your lower back, brings you into his side, it’s with the careful consideration of someone that knows the kind of danger you’ll be in if you stray too far.

that’s what you’re telling yourself when your back is pressed to a wall of crates while shots are firing to your left, opposite shoulder scraping up against the brick wall to your right.

it’s a little harder when he’s squeezing your knee just a little too tight. rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb so hard that you think the flesh underneath might purple if the two of you make it to tomorrow. another bullet pops from his revolver, and when he sits back his body is a little closer. hand a little farther in. you’re almost certain he can feel the muscles jumping under his palm, even through the bunched up fabric of your skirt.

eyes shut, you wait for the noise to pass. it’s silent. your breathing is loud in your nostrils, but it’s silent. you can hear the people that’d caught you stealing following some other noise, and you go lax. finally. let this be the last time you try and play rough. your weight is in your heels, prepped to rock forward and stand, but a rough hand skimming your slit sends a jolt of electricity up your neck.

when you turn to look at arthur, he looks none the wiser. if the arm connected to the hand at your cunt weren’t attached to his body, you might be inclined to believe him.

(shh, shh, darlin’. i know, i know. just keep real quiet for me, hm?)

each pass of his thumb has you arching, knocking your head up against brick. you don’t have to look to know that your lips are drooling onto the ground below, but christ does it feel good. he’s gathering your arousal on his fingers, and you’re pleading for something, though you’re not sure what, and you can’t quite recall if you say thank you or why, or if your hips are wriggling away or pushing downward,

because arthur is pulling his fingers away from you just as quickly as he’d put them on you. like he’s grown bored. the sheen on his fingers catches the midday sun as he cocks the hammer on his revolver. loops his fingers over the trigger.

you watch in a daze as he leans out around the crates. but the moment he’s got his target in his sights, his arm falls into that well-worn position once he takes aim.

he’s nice enough to toss a cursory glance at you over his shoulder.

“thanks for the good luck charm, doll.”

bang.

(it’s dark when the two of you return; you’re thankful for it when you have to hobble back to your bedroll on shaky legs. you think you hear dutch clap arthur on the back, ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing—)

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"

just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible

[bacchuschucklefuck]

typical tavern scene

[forgettable-au]

PROLOGUE

FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 1-9)

AND SO IT BEGINS!

I don't think I can fit all 20 pages of the prologue in just one post, so I'm dividing it into 4 posts! This one's the longest...

[CONTINUE]

[verflares]

(click for higher quality!) draconified link concept ive been chipping away at this past week ..... here's my funny little compendium concept for him:

"A heroic spirit has taken the form of this bestial dragon. Unlike it's kin, this creature exhibits an extremely aggressive disposition. It appears highly territorial, and will relentlessly chase down those who disturb its skywide patrols - of which it seems to be endlessly searching for either a long-time vassal or foe. Unfortunately, it seems the spirit within has long since forgotten exactly who it was looking for…"

[hinamie]

brighter days ahead

[inkskinned]

hey btw if you're in the USA at  2:20 p.m. ET on Wednesday, Oct. 4, they're testing the emergency broadcast system. your phone is probably going to make a really loud noise, even if it's on silent. there's a backup date on the 11th if they need to postpone it.

if you're not in a safe situation and have an extra phone, you should turn that phone completely off beforehand.

additionally, if you're like me, and are easily startled; i recommend treating it like a party. have a countdown or something. be surrounded by your loved ones. take the actions you personally need to take to make yourself safe.

i have already seen mockery towards any person who feels nervous about this. for the record, it completely, completely valid to have "emergency broadcast sounds" be an anxiety trigger. do not let other people make fun of you for that. emergency sounds are legitimately engineered to make us take action; those of us with high levels of anxiety and/or neurodivergence are already pre-disposed to have a Bad Time. sometimes it is best to acknowledge that the situation will be triggering for some, and to prepare for that; rather than just saying "well that's stupid, it's just a test."

"loud scary sound time" isn't like, my favorite thing, but we can at least try to prevent some additional anxiety by preparing for it. maybe get yourself a cake? noise cancelling headphones? the new hozier album? whatever helps. love u, hope you're okay. we are gonna ride it out together.

[lilybug-02]

Pain is a great motivator…

Part 26 || First || Previous || Next

—Full Series—

Meanwhile Toriel:

(Loud noises don't wake her up usually.)

Artist note: I’m so proud of this :))) I know it’s a lot of dialogue and reading, but dialogue is grueling work for me. I’m glad with the art and for the amount of pages I made in such a relatively short time span -w- page 5 was super fun to work on. A lot of blood, sweat, and hours here... :) The backgrounds were a big bore tbh, but I finished them! Yippie!

[favoure]

"do the opposite of what people tell you to do"

[deathricedrawn]

i'm ready to try

[destiny-islanders]

i get it now

[introspectivememories]

was it casual when i sat in your lap in public? was it casual when i said "recently my heart is crying because you're leaving"? was it casual when we decided how your last name would fit with mine? ("yuki tsunoda-gasly" / "no tsunoda, only gasly" / "yuki gasly?") was it casual when we sang adele's "someone like you" together at your going away party? was it casual when i knew it was you just by touching your ass? was it casual when i knew it was you by smell alone? was it casual when "will you miss me?" / "for 2-3 minutes maybe" / "i'll take that. even if it's just 2-3 minutes, i'll take that"? was it casual when that bus was completely empty and we still sat right next to each other, all the way in the back? was it casual when i picked you up multiple times so you could dunk a basketball? was it casual when i begged to come over to your house multiple time and then you finally let me and we cooked fried rice together? was it casual when we played christmas twister together and i said "your big eggplant is touching my ass"? was it casual when we were pressed up against each other on a scooter going two miles per hour? was it casual when-

[egophiliac]

messing around with techniques! I...like the foxman and the catboy a lot okay

also, a couple of quickies that honestly don't deserve any more effort than I've already given them:

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Flower Empowered.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[creekfiend]

when items which claim to be made of linen are like "hand wash gentle only do not use machines" it's soooo. guys linen is like. the durable fiber. I should be able to fucking boil this and hit it with rocks biweekly. you are doing something wrong

[christadeguchi]

you think YOU had a bad day at work?

bonus: sid shrieking "no!!!! NO!!!!!" loud enough to be heard in the stands and on camera