#Author Allie

[sweet-art-o-mine]

Pretty Boy [Arthur Morgan x Reader - RDR2]

[[A/N: Author Allie here. Just a very short thing to show Arthur some love. He is a pretty boy.]]

-----

He shows you the bruises across his back from the fist fight he got into in Valentine. “Is it bad?” He asks, wincing as the simple action of breathing alone was hurtful. You frown, concerned, as you circle around him. Your hands hover over the skin of his back, almost afraid to put the smallest amount of pressure onto the colorful bruising landscaping his tanned skin. 

“Well… It’s not too pretty,” you mutter eventually. Arthur chuckles lightly.

“Well I ain’t never been pretty, so at least nothin’s changed.” 

You smile at his joking words, torn between laughing at his light-hearted self insult or scolding him for being unkind to himself once again. You’re trying so hard to break him out of that habit, after all. You place your hand gently on a lighter bruise finally, looking up at the side of his face when he inhales sharply and goes rigid. He looks away from you. 

“That hurt?” You ask, even though you already know the answer. 

He chuckles weakly. “Feels like a nice warm bath-” he cuts himself off when he looks down at your narrowed eyes. He grins in spite of himself. “Sorry.”

You finally remove your hand from his back and stand on your toes to press a kiss to his nose.

“For the record, you’ve always been pretty.”

[littlecibuu]

How are we spending our weekend?

[ygamiraito]

"i faint! i go!... AH!" HE IS SO DRAMATIC DAWGG 😭😭😭

[thefake-red]

I think I've sorta figured out why it bothers me so much when people simplify Harlan Ellison to just being a very hateful man or say that he's "rolling in his grave" about every dumb fandom behaviour (he would not care about you shipping the characters, be serious) or compare him to AM/say he's his self-insert.

lt's bcs this language does not allow him to be viewed as the complex person that he, and every person to exist, is.

I think it's good to criticise creators and Ellison was VERY worthy of criticism, but he's not some being running on hatred and hatred alone as so many "fans", primarily the ones who discovered he existed less than a year ago on tik tok, seem to describe him. Criticise him on his stubbornness to accept his wrongdoings, his underlying misogyny and racism in his writing, his defence of Ed Kramer, etc.

In the same breath, I'd also like to say I think, when it comes to someone as complicated as Ellison, it's also worth noting the good deeds he did alongside his wrongful behaviour.

Ellison, as he would frequently mention, was outspoken about his political beliefs and was a part of many movements. He protested the Vietnam War, he was a part of the civil rights movement, he joined the writers strike, and was passionate about the rights of creators.

He was also a major hypocrite and always believed he was right, and no one was worth listening to even if they had more experience than him in that topic. He was especially reluctant of listening to people's criticisms of his work and it's depiction of minorities.

He was complicated. He was not an especially just or kind person, but he was passionate and outspoken and more than just an angry little man.

[uramitashi]

reading abt red katherine is so dystopian bc like she made a comic you didnt like for an ideology you dont know anything about and you said "ha! her drawing is offensive for lgbtq+ people! lets report her to her dictatorship state for being lgbtq+!" and you see nothing wrong with that

[canisalbus]

To me, Machete kind of has the energy of a secondary villain/coldhearted side character in someone else's story that a lot of fans latch onto, moreso than the protagonist. Question is, would he be the villain in anyone's story?

Why, thank you! I'm actually glad to hear he gives off that vibe. I don't think he set out to become a villain but a lot of people certainly view him as one.

[carrieemberlyns-blog]

Can you handle the heat? I'd love to find out 🤭

[ani-craft]

"Martyn is loyal" this and "Martyn isn't loyal" that

Loyal or not, this man loves. No matter what he might say. Calls himself selfish, or a wanderer, or a wildcard, or whatever else he'll readily claim to seem unanchored. And sure, he is highly driven by self-interest, that is undeniable especially after Lim Life's ending. Yet every season he gets attached to people, finds a fondness in someone. To Scott, to Cleo, to the Southlands (especially Mumbo), to Ren--and to an extent he is loyal, or devoted, or whatever other word you want to use for it. As loyal as he can be up until he can't be anymore. Looks at every alliance with the idea that they'll make it to the finale together, even if what happens after is unsavory. He knows too much for his own good, knows that every life will end as him versus everyone he's allied with. It's inevitable, given the nature of his lore and his role in the grand scheme of things. It's an always present truth that backs every plan he has. An audience is Watching, and we need a grand finale, after all.

But until then:

"That's it, they're dead."

"I'm more than happy for you to link back up with me, and we can be real proper soulmates."

"You said, 'You and your allies will see the end.' You said I could bring them all!"

"I'm with you. This is us, now. This is us."

[waackery]

Am pretends to be human to mess with the survivors, It doesnt go as he plans...

[neighborly-cryptid]

I KNOW ITS JUST A PREVIEW BUT THIS FUCKING CLIP IS ON PAR WITH THE INTRODUCTION TO BARON WITH HOW CHILLING IT IS TO ME HOLYYYY SHIT

Just the smugness and power he clearly holds over Kristen while she’s crying in his office

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IM NOT READY IM NOT READY

[sweet-art-o-mine]

For You [Arthur Morgan x Reader - RDR2]

[[A/N: Author Allie here. I'm back to loving this sad cowboy. Not requested, just a little drabble in between other things.]]

Summary: After Dutch and the gang head deeper into the snowy wilderness, you and Arthur find a moment to relax by the fire. Word Count: 796 Warnings: Alcohol consumption. Nothing else

-----

You and Arthur are stuck in a cabin during a rough blizzard. He gets a fire going while you pile together all the blankets and pillows you could find. You come back into the main room to find him removing his soaked boots and jacket as he sits by the fire. 

“Look what I found,” you said in a sing-song tone, lifting a bottle of unopened wine. He smiles, calling it a lucky find. You sit beside him, removing your own shoes and coat and leaving them by the fire to dry. You huddle close to him as he opens the bottle. There are no cups to drink from, so you share the lip of the bottle between the two of you, and he offers the first sip to you. 

Ever the gentleman, you thought as you drank straight from the bottle. The taste made you grimace, sour and bitter and sweet altogether. Wine had never been your drink of choice, and Arthur laughed at your reaction. 

You learn to accept the taste, slowly acclimating as you both recount silly tales from your histories to pass the time easily. When you lean against his arm, he stumbles over his words and rubs a hand down his face to hide the giddy smile in his expression. You don’t notice it, too entranced by the flames dancing before your eyes. His body was warm, and you sought out the heat, it was as simple as that. 

He finished telling his story soon enough - an explanation for how he’d gotten that cut over his collarbone you’d asked about once before - and took another swig of the half-empty bottle. A comfortable silence fell upon you both for a moment, and you shut your eyes slowly. You contemplated falling asleep here, to the sounds of the heavy storm outside and the fire crackling in front of you, to the warmth of the flames and Arthur’s arm holding you snug to his body. Suddenly, in the haze of being half-asleep and half-drunk, you find another tale to tell.

“I ever tell you I was almost married once?”

He paused, looking down at you with surprise in his eyes. No, his expression said what he was too shocked to speak. No you did not.

You smiled up at him. “Well, almost engaged, I should say. There was this boy who liked me when we were kids, and, well, I s’pose I liked him well enough too. We were friends, see, and he’d follow me everywhere I went. My daddy liked him too, considering he came from a.. well, a somewhat well off family. When that boy turned fourteen, he took me to a park at midday and brought out a ring. I was fifteen at the time.”

Arthur stayed silent, brows furrowed as his attention was so wholly focused on you and the story you were telling. When you went quiet and took another drink of the wine, he scoffed. “That’s it? No ending to that story?” You looked up at him, confused. 

“Well,” you murmured. “I said no. I was fifteen and I didn’t like him that much, not enough to marry him." Your wine-addled brain thought that was the end of that, and you couldn’t possibly comprehend why he needed or wanted more details.  “And...?” He trailed off. You smiled. “And then I met you.”

That made him go quiet for a moment, but he eventually spoke up again. “You liked him and he had daddy’s money,” he spat the last two words out like a swear, not aimed at you, but at a past memory that brought him pain. “So why’d you turn that down?” Arthur couldn’t help but compare himself to the boy he’d only just learned about - it was a bad habit he found he couldn’t shake. After Eliza, after Mary… He just couldn’t stop himself from wondering when it would happen - some encounter, some kind of event, that would finally push you away from him and convince you that you had no future with him, just as every other woman he’d loved before had done. And now he was learning you had once had a good future for yourself lined up - good being subjective, of course, considering his own vehement dislike of the wealthy citizens of the country, but undeniably a better future than being an outlaw out in the middle of nowhere with him - with money and a stable home to go back to. 

What could have possibly driven you away from that future?

You look up at him, confusion just as plain on your features as it was on his own. 

“For you, of course,” you said with such cool conviction that it rattled the man to the core.

[littlecibuu]

Sub today to my 💙🤍 for a free topless cockrating 😘 just dm me “

[ygamiraito]

some of my favorite harlan ellison outfits ive seen him wear (ESPECIALLY THE VEST WITHOUT ANYTHING UNDER IT OH MY DAYS)

[tumblezwei]

I think the worst thing so far that's come out of the whole jelloapocalypse situation is idiots who think that he tanked his career ~intentionally~ to whistleblow about localization companies being bad, and not because he wanted to go on a rant about how much he hates a fictional 15 year old girl and her author

[narrans]

Stellar Allies | Part One

GT July | Stellar Allies | Part One

Words: Studying, Plush, Behemoth, Shipwreck, Alien

Sirens blared all around him. Lights flashed, creating blinding sparks left and right. There was no choice now. The vessel needed to land – and now. The controls and steering mechanisms groaned and tugged against his grip.

This landing wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Just another mission. In and out. Routine. Yeah, routine my juthez! Make contact with the team. It’ll be easy. Communication breakdown is common. Juthez! This is bad!” These thoughts wouldn’t do any of them any good now.

With all his might, he threw himself backwards and attempted to level off the ship, but the damage along the edges of the wings was irreparable. Whatever had hit them knew exactly how to incapacitate their ship to force a landing.

“It’s no use!” the captain pathed. “Get to the escape pods! Coordinates have been sent. Go!”

“Captain!” The second-in-command was shot a single look, which silenced her. The captain leaned over and tapped a few lights on the console, giving the ensign a determined look.

“You heard the order. Get to the pods. I’ll be close behind. Go!”

Relinquishing the controls was the most difficult thing he’d ever done, but it was the captain’s orders and the longer he waited the less of a chance the captain would have to get out safely.

“See you soon, captain,” the ensign pathed as he slid out from the chair and ran to the escape pods. It took only two seconds to slide on the emergency suit, even though it felt like an eternity, and the ensign slid into the pod, slamming it shut behind him. The other places were vacant, showing the other members of the crew had already ejected.

He was the last one other than the captain.

Leaning back and scanning in, the pod rumbled around him before ejecting. The space craft was igniting rapidly from what little the ensign could see as he sped off through the atmosphere and to the ground far below. The wings broke off. The shields were obviously failing. The ensign watched with wide-eyed horror as the ship continued to burn up as it entered the atmosphere.

Something broke free from the ship. Was it the other escape pod? Was it just more debris? There wasn’t time to think about it as the ensign’s escape pod clipped something else, making it spin and spiral.

The ground far below was spinning out of control. Everything was blurring. Nausea swelled inside him. As the pod entered the atmosphere, the ensign blacked out, hoping beyond hope that his pod would arrive at the same emergency destination as the others after hitting some unknown thing in orbit and not somewhere completely off course.

How quickly those hopes would be dashed….

~~~^*^*^~~~

Space. An unlimited source of curiosity. The ever expanding abyss that exists all around us. It is the Dark Forest. It is the potential for greatness. It is the terror of the unknown.

It was here that Clifford Neilson found his true fascination. He had been studying it for years. Well, he and his best friend Jaxon Warner. Both boys were obsessed with the idea of going into space. They stared up at the Nevada sky for hours upon hours once it was supposed to be lights out for bedtime just to gaze at the night sky. They’d memorized the constellations and made their own telescopes before their parents bought them each one for their thirteenth birthdays.

Their love of science and the enjoyment of many of the same media forms made them best friends from early on in their lives. They were inseparable from day one of elementary school and they were still so in the summer before their first year of high school.

So, as they gazed up at the summer sky admiring the view, they naturally were in contact with one another. It was the time for the Perseids Meteor Showers, and naturally both boys were glued to their windows. As a massive streak lit up the sky, Clifford reached over toward his desk and fumbled for his walkie-talkie.

“Cliff to Jax. Cliff to Jax. Do you copy?” hissed Cliff into his walkie. The mechanical button clicked under the pressure of his fingers and a light static filled the air by his ear. There was a click and the sound of jostling on the other end of the line before his best friend’s voice filled the air.

“Jax to Cliff. I read you buddy. Did you see the tail on that last one?” asked Jax. “And don’t forget to say ‘over’ when you’re done talking. Over.” Cliff rolled his eyes, which almost made him miss the next shooting star, as he clicked the button onto his walkie again.

“Copy, and I definitely did see it. I can’t believe how many we’re getting tonight. And don’t you lecture me about radio etiquette. I’m the one who taught you about using ‘over.’ Over.” Cliff’s elbows ached as he continued to lean against them as he absorbed the sky above him. The billions of twinkling lights above him was absolutely mesmerizing. He already knew he’d be asking for an astrophotography set that was compatible with his telescope for his next birthday.

“Hahaha sure buddy. Big ole’ 10-4 on that. Anyway, you logging all of these? I’m trying to guestimate the length of the tails and approximate where they’d land if they collided with earth. Over,” Jax replied. His mocking laugh on the other side of the line would have gotten under Cliff’s skin if not for the next series of massive meteors falling from the sky making beautiful arcs as they burned up in the atmosphere.

“I haven’t actually. That’s a good idea though. We’ve got some record breakers tonight,” muttered Cliff, mouth agape as he stared up. A twinge in his neck as he craned it backward to keep a full view of the sky made him groan. He pulled his eyes from the sky to try and massage the area.

“You okay dude? Over?” asked Jax. Cliff glanced down at his radio and noticed he hadn’t fully released the “talk” button. Jax probably just heard a garbled moan from his side of the radio. Leave it to a friend to call me out on this stuff Cliff thought.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry. Just a tweak in my neck. Didn’t mean to cut out on you. Over,” replied Cliff. He heard his friend scoff over the line and, before he even said anything, Cliff already knew what Jax was going to say.

“From looking up? Shouldn’t you be used to that since you’re always looking up? Over,” stated Jax. Cliff felt himself shaking his head and laughing silently as he understood his friend’s meaning; and it wasn’t just a looking up at space joke. Cliff had achondroplasia, so he was usually looking up at the people around him. It was said in jest and meant as a joke between them, along with the frequent joke of, “You’ll always look up to me,” stupidness, but it still made Cliff smile.

Jax was one of his only friends who didn’t treat him any differently than anyone else, and the jokes that he made were ones Cliff genuinely thought were amusing. He rolled his eyes and clicked his button again.

“Yeah, ya’ big oaf. I can only imagine how your neck must feel. Do giants have neck problems? Over,” grinned Jax.

“Naw, man. It’s in the knees. Always in that deep squat to talk to everyone. Gotta get that replaced. Know any good doctors? Over,” asked Jax. Cliff opened his mouth to retort when a massive streak ignited the sky. All words abandoned him as he gazed up at the dazzling lights. “Woah! Man! Are you seeing this? Over!”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, mind barely registering that he had squeezed the “talk” button as he watched the tail ignite the sky. Cliff’s eyes fixated on the meteor, but then something caught his eye. There was something about how it was breaking apart that didn’t seem like a normal meteor.

Thinking fast, Cliff redirected his telescope to the sky and the place where he could see the tail. He had just gotten it in his sights when he saw seven different pieces break off one by one. What was interesting was the fact each one of the pieces broke off separately with little bursts, each propelling it away from the main body. It was a behemoth of a meteor, at least for average size measures, and was sure to make the news the next day.

Cliff nearly continued tracking along the main body of the meteor but paused when one of those fragments broke off and, to his sheer excitement, saw it hurdling toward him. He pried himself away from his telescope and looked back out the window eagerly, heart pounding a hole right through him.

Sure enough. The piece he saw before looked like it had broken off and was arcing right for the ground and, if he was right, it was probably going to land close. Cliff watched with baited breath as the larger mass continued toward the ground far to the north while the smaller fragment he spotted spiraled and crashed. The teen boy was practically throwing himself against the window as he realized where the meteorite had impacted.

“My dude! Did you see that? Did you see it! It landed! We’ve got a meteorite in the fields! It’s in the park! It’s gotta be!” Cliff was sprinting around his room pulling on a jacket and his science bag while shoving his radio clip through the side pocket. He was pulling on his headphones when he heard Jax’s reply.

“I know! I know! And you didn’t say over! Over!” Jax said. From the rustling sounds Cliff heard in the background, he guessed his friend was also pulling on his clothes.

“I’m on my way down the block. Meet me there on your bike. We’re going after it! Over!” hissed Cliff eagerly. Despite his excitement, the teenager was able to slip out of his childhood home past his parents’ room without issue and, within a minute, was on his Joni peddling his heart out.

He beat Jax by only a few seconds as the two boys turned their attention to the fields that led to the national park right across the way. Both boys gazed in the direction they saw the crash and grinned at one another eagerly.

“You think we can actually make it?” asked Jax. “Before anyone else I mean. I can’t imagine we’re the only ones who saw that.”

“Only one way to find out. It’s probably a few miles in. Fastest peddling will get us there in fifteen to twenty minutes if we’re really going at it,” estimated Cliff. Jax grinned and pushed his unruly hair out of his eyes and under the rim of his helmet.

“Then we’d better get moving,” he said firmly.

Determination and excitement fueled the two boys as they turned their bikes to the swath of desert that lay in front of them. The terrain was tricky and navigating in the dark was also a bit of a beast. These boys, however, were undeterred. With their monochromatic lights geared for seeing in the dark and their knowledge of the terrain, their adventure felt short lived despite nearly thirty minutes passing since they’d left the safety of their home to charge out into the midnight lit desert.

Jax and Cliff both huffed and puffed as they pushed their bikes up the final part of the hill. The entire way, the smell of burning stone filled their nostrils. They knew they were close, and they had the right gear for the job. They’d done their research and had several of the essentials including gloves, tongs, aluminum foil, and even multiple containers to put it in. They’d figure out how to divide it up later.

As they crested over the hill, they saw it – a small crater. It wasn’t very big, but neither of them expected something massive. It was just a meteorite fragment after all. The bigger piece was far to the north, and it was way too far away for them to go after tonight. This piece, however, was going to be perfect for the aspiring astronauts.

“Almost… there,” puffed Jax. He hopped back on his bike and rode the hill all the way back down. Cliff did the same. The bumpy terrain shook Cliff up one side and down the other, but he didn’t care. This was going to be his first adventure harvesting a meteorite. The first of many if he had anything to say about it.

Cliff was trembling with excitement as he and his friend abandoned their bicycles a few hundred feet away from the flickering, fiery mess burning in the ground.

“Safety first,” Cliff instructed as he pulled off his backpack and put on a filtered face mask that he’d used for chemistry class. Jax did the same before handing Cliff a pair of heat resistant gloves.

“Nice and careful. You get the aluminum foil and I’ll get the tongs,” directed Jax.

“Hey!”

“I’m only saying that because my arms are longer. I don’t want to get too close to the fire. You should be happy you get to hold it first,” Jax pointed out. Cliff rolled his eyes, wanting to be the one to use the tongs, but relented with the alternative of being the first between them to hold a meteorite.

“Got it. Ready?”

“Ready.”

They crouched and cautiously stepped forward. The ground crunched under their shoes as they crouched and inched their way closer and closer to the burning place on the ground. Thankfully, nothing nearby was burning to create a dangerous fire.

Their hearts were hammering faster and faster, both glancing nervously at one another as they approached their target. Cliff wondered what the texture was going to be like. Was it going to be rough or smooth? Would it have ridges or be like an ocean smoothed stone? There were so many different reports of what it could be like.

But, as they approached, the boys began to notice some irregularities. For one, there wasn’t a distinct crater. There were skid marks that were parallel that looked more like that of a docking boat in sand and stone. Jax glanced back at Cliff, who noticed his friend looked just as confused as he felt.

Neither spoke and continued to approach. Cliff felt his hands starting to get cold and clammy within the protective gloves he had on. The hair on the back of his neck began to stand on end, and there was something unsettling in the air. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something off about this area.

Now nearly thirty feet away, they could better see their target, and it made them stop in their tracks. What they expected was a hunk of rock from space, but what they saw was far from that ideal image.

The parallel skid marks didn’t lead to a rock, but a cylindrical tube that was the color of liquid mercury. Something was hissing and whatever it was looked a bit banged up, dents creating odd imperfections in the surface making it look like scuffed silverware. Jax turned around to look at Cliff, mouthing “what on earth” before looking back at the tube.

For a moment, Cliff contemplated turning back or getting Jax’s attention to plan a new strategy, but he knew his curiosity would always get the better of him and already he and his best friend were stepping cautiously forward toward the metallic cylinder. The hissing was starting to subside and, now that they were closer, they could see that it was hissing because there was a small section that was open along the side.

Jax crouched down and, like a military sergeant, he held up his hand with a closed fist, signaling that they should stop. He turned and, in a hushed voice, asked, “Do you see this? It looks like a shipwreck.”

“Yeah. It does,” muttered Cliff as he inched forward toward his friend. “Should we get closer?”

“I mean, I think so. I’m just worried about the hissing and stuff. Like, what is it putting in the air?” asked Jax. Cliff glanced around at the smoldering brush nearby and the tiny flames that hadn’t extinguished yet.

“Well, it’s probably not toxic. Look,” he said as he pointed to the fire. “The flames are still orange. If there were other chemicals in the air, the fire would probably change color.” Jax gave his friend a disbelieving look, actually swinging his head over to stare at his friend before fixing his eyes back on the flames.

“That’s only a little reassuring. There’s a million other explanations for that,” Jax pointed out.

“I know, but it’s what we’ve got. We’re either turning back or investigating. So? Which is it?” The ultimatum made the decision an obvious one. Swallowing dryly, the boys inched forward once again, this time with the intention of moving forward.

Both of them were quaking in their shoes as they were now close enough to glimpse inside the small section of the metal cylinder. Just inside, they could barely make out what looked like some kind of odd plush made of a reflective leather. Tongs in hand, Jax’s trembling hands reached forward and nudged the slit in the metal cylinder open.

The hatch clicked and hissed again as it slid open, parts of it grinding as it clicked open and revealed what was inside. The boys’ jaws went slack as the realization hit them. Neither could tear their eyes away from the sight.

It was an alien. A real alien.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

@gianttol #gtjuly #gtjuly2024

[aesthetictarlos]

I'm a bit late to the party with this one but here we go!

Tommy edges Buck. That's it, that's the fic.

@bucktommyweek belated day one, dirty edition prompt: "No touching. You'll be patient and wait until I'm done."

Rating: Explicit

Summary:

Tommy loves when Buck turns into a babbling mess, and loves even more how debauched he looks as he glances at him through his eyelashes. He knows him so well by now, knows what drives him crazy and recognizes the slight change in his voice and in the way he breathes when he's about to come, which means he knows when to stop and pull back if he wants to draw things out a bit longer.

“No, no, Tommy,” Buck whimpers, groaning loudly, squirming beneath him. “Fuck, I was– please, I can go a second time after, I need–”

Tommy presses a kiss to his thigh and hovers over him, careful not to touch his sensitive cock, and brushes their noses together, smiling softly at him. “I know you can, baby,” he whispers on his lips. “I just– I wanna try something, if you trust me.”

Notes: for #bucktommyweekend