#Is not that bad but better safe than sorry

[crossf1recreat1ons]

Not sure who has their ask box open or not, but sharing this just in case

(Not sure how bad it's going to affect the ARMS and Coroika tumblr communities (probably not as badly as others mentioned like Mouthwashing and Stardew Valley) since they are smaller communities, but hey better safe than sorry

I think I already have my ask boxes closed on both my general and art blog though

Hello dear!

Sorry for bothering you, but it's important to remind you to turn off your asks for a few days! Bad things are going to happen on Tumblr soon...

Don t know anything about this but BETTER BE SAFE EVERYBODY!!!!!!

[writingwisterias]

Day 23: Praise Kink

ID! Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Reader Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Praise Kink, Training, Gun, Training room sex Masterlist

Of course, Leon had noticed your training had begun to slip, he was dragging himself to the shooting range with you every morning. No matter how hard he tried your score never increased. He could see your confidence slipping as the other recruits began to notice your low score. If he wanted to find you he was sure you were in the shooting range. You tried everything you could to get better and yet the more your confidence slipped so did your score. He could see the fire of ambition slowly die inside of you and decided enough was enough. 

He hated being awake so early, especially after he spent the night in some stupid bar he stumbled into. At least you were thankful for the extra attention he was offering. He saw you standing outside the door to the shooting range, two coffees held in your hands as you looked off into the distance. Your headphones looked like earmuffs over your head as you wrapped up warm to fight the winter chill. It was early enough the range would be empty, none of the agents assigned to training groups of recruits would be arriving any time soon, and the sky was still dark. Your frame is highlighted dimly with the street lamps. 

Your smile was brighter than any lingering stars as you saw him. Your sweater-covered hand holding out the hot drink to him. “I needed one so I thought you might as well” You spoke. He could hear your music as you pulled the headphones away from your head, they now hung around your neck. “Keep listening to music at that volume you won't need any ear protection when shooting” Leon teased. His heart fluttered at your shy smile blush coating your cheeks as your hands began rummaging your pockets for your phone to lower the volume.  

Easing into the training wasn’t the hard thing, it was just your aim. It was even worse than before everyone started teasing, Leon predicted the constant bullying from everyone else was a direct result. So instead of following the methods of all the other agents assigned to this task, he took a kinder approach. Hoping his praise and chilled-out attitude would help you relax and not overthink. It worked to his credit; your aim was improving and your score was slowly increasing. Yet your mind loved the extra attention Leon gave you, heart fluttering at every adjustment he would step closer to do. His rewarding words heading to other areas. 

You jumped slightly as he stepped closer to readjust your grip, his eyebrows pinching in confusion as his hands touched your hip. “You good? I didn’t mean to make you jump” Leon spoke. His breath tickled your neck causing you to flinch slightly, blush coating your cheeks as you felt bad for your reactions. You knew it was because you had woken up earlier than normal, your toy in your nightstand finding its purpose yet again after another dream of Leon fucking you. Having to face him after such a graphic dream was tough, his close proximity didn’t help either. 

“I’m good sorry, I don't know why I’m so jumpy today..must have been a dream I had” You half laughed. Leon clearly assumed it was a nightmare the way he nodded, silently agreeing with you. “I’m here if you want to talk about it. We have time before the others show up” 

He was too kind for his own good sometimes, his caring nature making him all the more alluring to him. You could have made up something, some random nightmare but Leon was smarter than that. He would have clocked on instantly. Instead, you chose the cheap side and said you didn’t want to talk about it. Leon just raised an eyebrow. 

“Our training sessions are a safe space for everything and anything…Do you trust me?” 

Your heart stuttered unable to think of a reply faster than the hot flush set in. “I do trust you…it’s just…just complicated” You muttered, your arms crossing over your chest as you met his gaze. You felt so small and shy like you were about to be scolded by a teacher. Once that was always nice to you and then you suddenly get into their bad books. “Complicated how?” Leon asked, his body now resting on the bench - nudging ammo out of the way to set his arms beside him. His hands looked so good, flexed over the edge of the table. His veins were now more prominent. They always looked well-kept. “Something on my hands?” he laughed meeting your eyeline. You broke out of your trance shaking your head. “No No, they just look good” 

“My hands?” 

God you were just making this worse. Digging yourself deep into a hole you weren’t sure you could get out of. Leon smirked, his teasing attitude written all over his face. He had already caught you out on your own lie, your body language speaking volumes over your words. Leon stood up, sauntering over to your stuttering form, his hands landing on your shoulders instantly calming you. “Do you ever relax?” He chuckled. Leon was so close, yet there was no gun in your hand. He was voluntarily in your space. “It’s hard to relax sometimes” You muttered back, hand rubbing the back of your neck nervously as you met his eyes. Leon chuckled, his face inches from yours. “Let me help you” 

He watched your features for any rejection, giving you time to process his request. His grin grew when he saw it, the subtle nod of your head. His lips were softer than you originally thought they would be as they landed on yours. They worked in sync perfectly with yours. His presence was dominating demanding control which you gladly gave him. Leon spun you around, walking you back towards the shelf he was just perched on. You worked on removing your leggings, whilst he focused on his trousers. The kiss never broke. 

He only broke it to hoist you up on the shelf, his body spreading your legs as he invaded your space. “You impressed me today. Seems our 1-1 time is working” 

Leon tasted like the coffee you had given him this morning mixed with the faint taste of whiskey he drank last night. It was intoxicating. Your tongue already craving more. His compliments melted your brain as his lips muttered them against your neck. Blemishes making themselves known with the sting he left behind. Leon sunk his cock inside of you with a groan. Your walls instantly welcome him, warming him. “Fuck..pretty girl having such a perfect cunt” He grunted as he began to move. 

He made sure you felt every inch, his hips pistoning inside you at such an insane speed. Leon’s hand gripped at your thighs, holding one over his hip as the other hand gripped at your head bringing you in for another kiss. Leon was bold and passionate with you. Worshipping every clench, moan or whimper you gave him as he continued to fuck you. “Such a good girl, I should reward you like this all the time and then maybe you’ll be the best agent there is” 

Your brain faltered at creating any form of a coherent response, the letters jumbling up as your head fell against his shoulder. His praise continued to tighten the coil in your stomach, almost ready to snap. “Be a good girl and cum before the others arrive, I want to feel it around my cock” 

He groaned loudly as you finally snapped, your cum instantly coating his cock coating his trousers. The forces of your orgasm caused his. He moaned as your legs tightened around him, trapping him inside as he coated your walls. “There's more if you break your record in front of the rest of them” 

“Seems like a worthy reward”

Taglist: @kasueli@luvrgreyy@michellekmsh@miss0giarra@cinnabunnysavvy@redollface@my-loved-figure-skates@luvlouiee@drawboo22@moth-quasar@nyxxoxo@crazy-b1tch

[mattslilies]

✩ criminologist!reader - lets matt comfort her after seeing a bad scene ✩

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warnings: general descriptions of human remains/bodily fluid such as blood in context of a crime scene

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you couldn't sleep. you'd been laying awake in bed for god only knows how many hours, your boyfriend sleeping soundly beside you. he'd fallen asleep ages ago, curled up against your warm body.

you reached for your phone, seeing that the time read 3:56 am.

sighing you put your arm out to put it back onto the nightstand, your heart jumping when you accidentally knocked over matt's phone and water bottle, hearing them clatter to the floor.

swearing under your breath, you immediately got out of bed to pick up both items, as well as putting your own phone back onto the charger.

getting back under the covers, you were just about to thank all the gods that matt was a deep sleeper, when he started shifting next to you.

he rolled over to face you, blinking his eyes open and trying to make sense of the darkness surrounding you both.

"babe?"

"sorry, sorry, just knocked over some stuff off of the nightstand when i was trying to put my phone back." you quickly apologized, hating that you had woken him up.

you didn't want matt to know that you were having trouble sleeping, knowing that it would cause him to worry, and you hated when he did that, despite knowing it came from a caring place inside of him.

"what were you doing on your phone? 's the middle of the night."

you just shrugged, laying back down and resting your head on the pillow.

squinting, matt reached over and flicked on the lamp next to your bed. when the dim light shone on you two, he could very clearly make out the rapidly darkening circles under your eyes from lack of sleep.

"you never went to bed, did you?"

your silence was enough of an answer, and he sighed, but not a disappointed or annoyed sigh, a quiet one, filled with concern.

it wasn't often you had nights you couldn't sleep, or that you saw a case or a scene bad enough to rattle you, but matt had seen you through a few of them, and he knew what this meant.

you didn't often talk about your cases with matt, knowing he didn't stomach them as well as you did, but on nights like these, exceptions were made.

"cmere, baby." he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, and it didn't take much more than that for you to begin crying. sobbing, really, which you would have considered embarrassing around anyone else.

"there was just so much blood, matt. and it wouldn't have bothered me so badly, but it was a kid, and their mom, just laying there. you're not supposed to realize how much blood can come out of a child."

he didn't say much, letting you cry, a hand rubbing your back and another one gently caressing the back of your head.

"and i can't sleep. i can't sleep because i can't get that image out of my head. they should be sleeping, safely, and they're not."

he kissed the top of your head, softly whispering. "i know, i know. it's horrible. i'm so sorry, baby. i'm so sorry you had to see that."

"i love my job, matt, i really do. this one just hit hard."

he gently lifted your face from his chest, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before kissing your lips, and wiping tears away with his thumbs.

"i know you love your job, and you're damn good at it. cases will stick with you, baby, you see horrible things every day. i don't know how you do it, because i wouldn't be able to handle it. it makes you human. i'd be much more concerned if they didn't ever stick with you, although i hate that it gives you trouble sleeping."

you let out a small sigh, enjoying the comforting words and presence of your boyfriend. he really was your rock when you had difficult nights like these, and never failed to make you feel a little bit better. as you laid in his embrace, both the late hour and the exhaustion of crying caught up to you, and you let out a large yawn.

matt smiled down at you, kissing you again, before getting comfortable himself and pulling you against him.

"i've got you, baby, try to rest. it's going to be okay, tomorrow is going to be a better day."

when you closed your eyes for the final time that night, all you saw was peaceful darkness, clouded with love from your boyfriend, and you finally fell asleep.

[prettypinkporkchop]

The way i've been going thru all your post just reading everything 😍😍😍

If your accepting request, would you mind writing a little something about jacob x shy reader, where jacob is shocked when he finds her little stash of sex toys 🤭

I'm really obssesed with your writing 🩷🩷🩷

Stash

Warnings: sexual ish? Making out, language

Since being imprinted on by Jake, he has done everything to make you blush. He loves that you're shy. God, to get under your skin makes him satisfied. He swears you're secretly bad under your shy and innocent attitude.

There's a knock on your bedroom door. You know it's him. The guy literally has a key to your house. You don't mind. It makes you feel so damn safe.

"Come in!" You call out.

He opens the door, shirtless and handsome as fuck. He eyes you sitting on your bed in your christmas pajamas. He smirks and sits on the end of your bed. "Hey, pretty thing." He touches your jaw and kisses your cheek.

Your heart skips a beat, and your cheeks burn red. Your eyes widen a bit. "Hey.." You smile.

He smirks and lays back on your bed. "How was your day?" He asks.

"It was good! Been wondering why you haven't been texting me back." You bite your lip.

"Sorry, pretty one, I was just busy doing wolf shit." He groans before smiling up at you. "Missed me?"

You slowly nod your head. "I did." You whisper.

"Good." He lays out his arm behind you, his hand resting on your hip. Suddenly, he sits up. His eyes scan your face. "Would you like to go out tomorrow? Dinner?" He asks.

You smile widely. "I'd love to, Jake." But then you frown. "Wait, I don't know if I have anything good to wear."

He stands up and walks to your closet. "You look good in everything. I promise you that." He opens the closet and turns on the light. He looks up at a plastic box full of dildos and vibrators.

You totally forgot about it. Oh, shit.

Jacob is in shock. He grabs the box in disbelief. He slowly walks to the end of the bed and puts it down. He looks up into your eyes with a raised eyebrow and his mouth slightly open. "Care to explain?" He asks.

You gulp, blush, and want to scream. "I.. I. Oh, god." You groan and cover your face.

"You use these?" He asks.

You nod your head behind your hands.

He chuckles before putting the box on the floor. "I knew you were freaky." He jokes. "But, I'm better than a toy." He says casually before turning back to go through your closet.

You gasp and look at him. Now, you wanna find out. "What do you mean?" You ask.

"Exactly what I said." He grabs an outfit and places it on your vanity chair. He falls back on your bed and looks up at you.

You breathe heavy as your heart pounds out of your chest.

Jacob senses your want. He sits up and grabs the back of your head, and smashes his lips onto yours. You kiss him back and wrap your arms around his neck. His hands grip your waist, digging in your flesh. He pulls you on top of him. You run your fingers through his hair and tug. He grunts and pulls away. "Let me show you.." He whispers.

[waynes-multiverse]

“You can’t really call yourself a civilian though, can you?” Colter pointed out.  Russell shot him a look. “Yeah well, neither can you, Colt.”

Ooooh, snappy 😆 I've been diving into the books a bit and I do think they still have some tough things to talk out. The show's making it look way too easy lol

But I loved all the kindergarten teasing and bantering between them. Such a fun moment! 🤍

“Well, he’s not the most upstanding citizen,” Bobby said. “He’s a cocaine dealer by trade. Other fun items on his rap sheet include illegal gun possession, theft, and domestic violence.”

Read this fully in Bobby's voice. You totally nailed his cadence too! You're killing it here, Alex!! 👏👏

Rookie fucking move. Should’ve made sure she got home safe, he thought. Better yet, should’ve kept her with me.

Ahaha knew it! Right on time too 😂

He really cares for her a lot after such a short amount of time already 🥹❤️

Oh, he knew he’d find you eventually, and your brother. He just didn’t want to think about how he might find you.

You're a hopeless romantic. You wouldn't do this to me, right? Right, Alex???? 😭

“Fuck off, Timberlake.”

They do share similarities 🤣🤣

A few minutes went by before the back doors of the bar opened to Pete and his gaggle of delinquent friends. As Colter suspected, one of them made a call. It lasted no more than a couple of minutes. Then, they piled into Pete’s car and pulled out of the parking lot.

I do love how resourceful he always is 🤓👏

You’d suspected the truth, but it was different from being faced with the reality. Charlie was the one who stole from the museum. He’d likely been doing a lot worse for the past few months. And somehow, Feinman had gotten in between. He’d also paid the price.

Like the reader, I'm not surprised but was hoping it wouldn't be this bad. Geez, Charlie, you call this getting your shit together? 🙄

“In the national forest, less than an hour out,” Charlie replied. “But you won’t find it without me.”

Why? No, not the woods!! 😂 (Being lost in a forest is one of my worst nightmares lol)

He aimed his .45 caliber M1911 at their friend Pete, who had Cheeto stains on his shirt.  “How about you, Pete. You finally wanna share with the class, before I blow your fucking face off?!” Russell shouted. 

Russell's dark side is doing things to me... 🫠🫠

“He was my dealer,” he admitted, though his gaze was heavy. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, but…a few weeks after I left rehab, I slipped. I never really did quit. Just got better at hiding it.” 

Figured something like this happened. I do feel for him, though. It's called addiction for a reason ❤️‍🩹

His argument for stealing was hilarious, however. Like, boo, really? Don't pretend you care about the Native Americans now. I think he knows his sister too well and figured this might work 😂

“I love you, you know that?” he whispered. Your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth to reply, but you found the look in his eyes suspicious. Like he was saying goodbye. 

You did it, too!!!! The "I love you" goodbye!! 🤣

Oh, I can't fucking wait to read the next part!!! 😁👏

Every Second Counts - Part 3

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: *Deep breaths* Are you ready? 😉

Word Count: 4.4K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, protective Russell, perilous situations, violence, character death, and another (literal) cliffhanger…

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 3: "Timer Starts Now"

As he drove away from the museum, Colter could see it even more clearly. 

“You like her,” he said, giving his older brother a smile. 

Russell glanced at him, then rolled his eyes. 

“Focus on the road,” he said. 

“Just admit it. You like her,” Colter smirked. “And the fact that she called you for help isn’t a coincidence.”

Russell made a sound of annoyance and shook his head. At this point, he knew Colter wasn’t going to drop the subject.

“All right, we went out on one date,” Russell held up a finger. “It was fun, but we agreed that I’m just not relationship material.”

Colter sobered at that, at the wry tone of his voice. It sounded like Russell liked you even more than he was willing to admit.

“Do you have a timeline on that brewery?” Colter asked.

Russell chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, I’m just a few dollars short on that one.”

He stared out the window for a while, but he eventually turned back to his brother.

“She called me because her brother’s a vet. Because I know what it’s like to deal with the assimilation process, coming back to civilian life. Trying to figure out where you belong, you know?” he said.

“You think you’ve assimilated?” Colter asked.

Russell shrugged. “Best I know how, anyway.”

“You can’t really call yourself a civilian though, can you?” Colter pointed out. 

Russell shot him a look. “Yeah well, neither can you, Colt.”

That created a kind of tension in the car. A call from Bobby, Colter’s analyst, mercifully broke the silence. He’d gotten some useful information on Eddie Mendez, the man Charlie was supposedly working with, or for.

“Well, he’s not the most upstanding citizen,” Bobby said. “He’s a cocaine dealer by trade. Other fun items on his rap sheet include illegal gun possession, theft, and domestic violence.”

“All right, thanks, Bobby,” Colter said.

Great, Russell shook his head. Just what had your brother gotten himself into?

They were getting closer to the bar, and it mentally brought him back to his date with you.

Okay, maybe he did like you. But he also respected and understood your reasons for cutting things short that night. Usually, he was okay with being in a new town every other week, the occasional one-night stands, the skeevy motel rooms and the fast food. It was all with a goal in mind, and that made the hustle easier.

He’d started to wonder though, what it would be like to set down roots somewhere. Doug made it work with his wife and still did his contract work, even if there were some major pros and cons to that too…

Russell was only broken out of his thoughts when he got a call himself, from Dory. He answered it and held the phone to his ear.

“Hey, D. What’s up?” he asked.

“Russell, something’s wrong,” she said. Her voice was panicked.

He frowned, his brows furrowing. “What? What happened?”

The more he listened, the more his eyes widened in shock. He looked to his brother.

“Colter, turn around. Now.”

Russell and Colter arrived back at your house, where Dory was parked out front. She came out of the safety of her car when she saw them. Russell got to her first. He laid a hand on her shoulder in the driveway.

“What happened?” he asked. 

She tearfully explained that she found your purse in the bushes, but your phone was missing. She had just picked up your call when it suddenly cut off. 

“But I heard her scream,” Dory said, with a stifled breath.

Russell’s mood darkened in response, and the longer he took in the scene. He looked over at Colter, who also wore a frown. 

The tracker examined your car and driveway first. Already he found signs of struggle. He noticed a couple pieces of dark glass on the pavement, and when he scrutinized his surroundings further, he picked your broken phone out of the grass. The screen was cracked beyond repair.

Next, he climbed the three short steps of the porch, up to the front door of the house. There were marks on the doorknob, likely scratched by a key. He spotted the Ring Camera next.

Good. He took it right off the wall.  

“Do you have her keys there?” he asked his sister. Dory handed them to him and he let himself in. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

The three of them entered your house and found it dark and empty. Colter switched the lights on and got to work, after going back to grab his laptop from the car.

Russell stayed with his sister on the couch, a supportive hand on her back. He tried to shove his anger and upset deeper below the surface.

Meanwhile, Colter had Bobby retrieve the data from the camera. Within a few minutes, he sent Colter a video file, which Colter then played on his laptop. The three of them watched you approach the door.

Someone with a man’s build grabbed you from behind, wearing dark clothes and a mask that obscured his face. You screamed and tried to fight, but the man dragged you away as you struggled.

Russell’s frown deepened as his body tensed with anger again, his jaw ticking as it clenched. And then came the self-loathing.

Rookie fucking move. Should’ve made sure she got home safe, he thought. Better yet, should’ve kept her with me.

Dory covered her trembling mouth and dissolved into tears. Russell tucked her against his side, rubbing her arm. Colter laid a hand on her shoulder as well, but he continued to analyze the footage. He couldn’t make out the attacker’s face with the mask he was wearing, but Colter saw a blue sedan in the background. It peeled off after you were hauled off-screen.  

“Why would they take her? What the hell is Charlie into?” Dory said. She sniffled and wiped at her face.

“To keep her quiet after she started digging into his disappearance, possibly. Or for leverage against him,” Colter said, leveling her with honesty. “Someone doesn’t want us to find Charlie. I’m betting it’s whoever he’s working for.”

He thought it was safer if he didn’t tell his sister exactly who Charlie’s employer was.  

Dory shook her head in worry. “We need to call the police.”

Colter shared a grim look with his brother. He knew Russell understood the score here. 

“If we get the police involved, it’s at least a 50% chance that whoever has her and Charlie…will kill both of them,” Colter said. Dory sucked in a trembling breath. 

“Our best bet is to keep digging,” Colter said.

“Let’s go,” Russell said, nodding at him. He stood, parting from his sister with a hand squeezing her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Dory asked. She got up to her feet along with her brothers.

“Howley’s. It’s our only lead on Charlie’s employer,” Colter replied. 

“Okay, but wait—” Dory reached out for Russell’s arm. It was a reflex as she tried to wrap her mind around all of this. 

Russell grasped her shoulders gently enough, but he made sure she saw the sense of urgency in his eyes.

“We don’t have time,” he said. “From here on out, every second counts.” 

After a beat, Dory nodded in acceptance. She let go of his jacket. 

“Okay, keep me updated.”

“Will do,” he said, and he swiftly followed Colter out the door.

The brothers drove in silence to the bar. Colter noted his brother’s tension, and the grim set to his jaw. 

“Hey,” Colter said, earning Russell’s attention. Colter gave him a reassuring look. “We’re gonna find her. We’ll find both of them.”

Russell exhaled. “Yeah.”  

Oh, he knew he’d find you eventually, and your brother. He just didn’t want to think about how he might find you.

Once they got back to Howley’s, they started by questioning the bartender about Eddie Mendez. 

“He’s not here. But that’s a couple of his friends over there,” the bartender said. He pointed them in the direction of a couple of guys drinking near the back. Three of them were sitting at a table playing cards. 

Russell recognized two of them. One was the same guy who made the mistake of hassling you by the pool table. He’d gotten a bloody nose for his trouble. Russell smirked at the memory. 

“Pete, make a fucking move already,” said one of the guy’s buddies.

Russell caught it as he and Colter approached them. This time, Pete seemed at least somewhat sober, even with his second beer in hand. Another bottle sat empty beside his arm.

“Hey, fellas,” Russell greeted the table. “Little Blackjack, little booze. Looks like a good night you’re having.”

“Do I know you?” Pete asked. His face showed a spark of recognition when he took in Russell. 

“Well, you’re about to. We’re looking for one of your friends, Eddie,” he replied. 

Pete set his beer down on the table. Predictably, he crossed his arms and closed up.

“I don’t know no Eddie.”

Russell resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I realize it’s hard for you, but don’t be dumb. Eddie Mendez,” he pressed. 

Pete glanced at his friends, then he stood from the table, drawing himself to his full height. He was a bit bigger than Russell, but a beer gut wasn’t everything.  

Russell seized up the man in front of him with an almost lazy grin. By contrast, his eyes were sharp, betraying his true thoughts. 

“Now remember. Whatever you start, I’m gonna damn well finish,” he said. 

That sure ignited Pete’s memory. He seemed to be remembering your smaller fist nearly breaking his nose. His face fell with an angry frown. Russell smirked.

Colter laid a warning hand on his brother’s arm.

“We’re not looking for trouble. We’re just trying to find someone Eddie might know. Charlie,” Colter said. “Do you know him?”

“No, I don’t,” Pete claimed.  

“Like you didn’t know Eddie?” Colter replied, raising a brow. “Where can we find him?”

“Now you are looking for trouble,” Pete spat. “Fuck off, Timberlake.”

Just then, Colter’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and saw a text from Dory, asking for an update. He ignored the message for now and put his phone away.

Hearing a commotion, he quickly looked up in time to realize that Russell had wrangled Pete into a stronghold with his arm behind his back and had slammed him onto the table. Drinks and bottles rattled and spilled; playing cards fell to the floor. Pete’s friends got up with angry, threatening gaits.

“I think you can point us in the right direction before I break this meaty arm of yours. How about that?” Russell said. 

“Hey! No fighting!” the bartender called from the front. “Take that shit outside.”

Colter internally sighed, but he’d have to roll with this, even though this wasn’t how he’d wanted to play it. 

“I wouldn’t test him,” Colter advised. “That’s gonna be a bad break. You got good health insurance, Pete? You’ll probably need surgery, expensive bills, a little physical therapy, a few months of recovery time.”

Pete seemed to weigh Colter’s logic, albeit with an angry huff. He waved off his friends and caught his breath while pinned against the table. 

“I can’t talk to you,” he said. “I’ll get myself killed.”

“I’d worry more about your odds right now, Pete,” Russell said. He tightened his twisted hold on the man’s arm, earning a strangled sound of pain. 

Colter weighed the options here in record time, and he came to a decision. He grasped Russell’s arm firmly.

“Let him go,” he said.  

Russell gave him a look of disbelief. “Colt?”

Colter implored him with his eyes. Trust me.

After a few more seconds, Russell’s lips pursed, but he let the guy go. 

“Ah, fuck,” Pete muttered. After he was able to straighten up, he rubbed his aching arm and shot them both a red-faced glare. 

Colter steered his brother out of the bar before a real fight could break out. He knew it’d become a bloody mess, and they didn’t have time for a night stay in a county jail cell this time.  

“You better have a damn plan,” Russell whispered, as they neared the front doors of the bar.

“You know I do,” Colter replied.

They later sat in his truck while it was still turned off. Just waiting in silence.

A few minutes went by before the back doors of the bar opened to Pete and his gaggle of delinquent friends. As Colter suspected, one of them made a call. It lasted no more than a couple of minutes. Then, they piled into Pete’s car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Colter started up his own car, and he followed them.

You were led into what sounded like a warehouse. You couldn’t know for sure with this musty bag over your head and your wrists bound together with zip ties, but you clenched your teeth and tried to stop sniffling. Your fear made your heart pump fast and loud in your ears.

Voices echoed around you, arguing, yelling about shipments. You were shoved hard to the ground, and you gasped, instinctively throwing your hands out when your knees hit the hard cement. 

“No…” 

That voice was all too familiar. 

The bag was finally ripped off your head, the edge of it catching in your frizzy hair. You blinked wearily at the florescent lights above, and you wiped at your tears and smudged mascara. Your breath left your lungs when you saw your brother, Charlie. 

He was tied to a chair, shirtless and shoeless, beaten and bloody. Some parts of his skin even looked burned. His jeans remained, at least. But his face was hard to look at. His left eye was swollen, his lip split, his cheek cut and bloody. Both his eyes were red-rimmed, and he was sweaty and dirty, as if they’d been keeping him down here like an animal. He looked thinner too.

He stared back at you in dismay, your name falling from his lips.

You tried to scramble over to him, but someone grabbed you by the hair and yanked you back. You cried out in pain.

“Eddie stop! Don’t hurt her!” he shouted. He drew enough strength to pull at his restraints. Your hands reached back on reflex to grasp at the hand holding your hair. 

“No, you did this,” Eddie said. He clicked the safety off his handgun and pointed the barrel at your head, right between the eyes. You gasped and froze where you sat. 

“You couldn’t make it easy, huh? Well now, I’m making it real simple for you,” he continued. “Even more simple, now that we cut out the middleman.”

Eddie gestured to what looked like a woven potato sack laid behind Charlie’s chair, but really, that was just part of it. As your eyes scanned over, you saw the narrow shoulders of a man with a familiar dark blue blazer. It was stained red with a bloody hole carved through the back. Your breath stilled in your lungs.

Eddie glanced over at you, his lips curving. He walked over to the dead body, turned it over with his boot, and dragged off the potato sack to reveal the lifeless blue eyes of Dr. Feinman.

Your eyes widened.

You let out a blood-curdling scream that startled a pigeon out of the warehouse, from where it had been perching on a high support ledge. You leaned back on your bound hands, but you could go no further as one of Eddie’s men grabbed your shoulder, pinning you on the ground. His annoyed face told you to shut the fuck up.

Charlie grimaced and turned his face from the sight of the body. Both shame and hate filled his eyes when Eddie bent down to face him.

“Tell me where you hid the goddamn weapons,” he demanded.

Your lips trembled as new tears brimmed over and streamed down your cheeks. You’d suspected the truth, but it was different from being faced with the reality. Charlie was the one who stole from the museum. He’d likely been doing a lot worse for the past few months. And somehow, Feinman had gotten in between. He’d also paid the price.

Your brother saw your disappointment, and he accepted it. But lacking an answer, Eddie pistol whipped you in the face, earning a pained cry from you as you fell back onto the ground. You had to blink the stars out of your eyes.

After his shock wore off, Charlie’s face hardened with fury.

“Oh, don’t give me that fucking face,” Eddie said. He grabbed you by the back of the neck, startling another sharp breath from you. “If you don’t tell me what I want to know, what I did to you’ll be child’s play, compared to what I’m gonna do to her. And you’re going to watch.”

Against your will, tears filled your eyes while you stared at your brother. You were terrified, and Charlie knew it. He was scared too, but he also knew then what he had to do.

“I buried them,” he admitted. 

“You buried them?” Eddie repeated. He brushed back his dark hair with the same hand that held his gun. “Ain’t that ironic. All right, where did you bury them?”

“In the national forest, less than an hour out,” Charlie replied. “But you won’t find it without me.” 

Eddie shook his head on a sigh. “Of fucking course.”

He gestured to his men waiting nearby. He wordlessly gave them the order to untie your brother. 

“All right, Charlie. Let’s go for a drive,” he said, and gave you a sleazy smile. “You too, sweetheart.”

He hauled you up onto your feet and kept you close to him, with a hand like a vice around your arm. God, you hated a sweethearting man.

You held your breath. You could only pray that Dory had noticed you were missing…and that Russell and Colter could find you before it was too late.

Please…

It was still dark out, but the sky was beginning to lighten when Colter pulled to the side of the road. The car they followed had stopped in front of a warehouse near an industrial downtown area. Colter spotted the blue sedan from the Ring Camera footage. It was parked out front. 

With a shared nod of understanding, Colter and Russell climbed out of the truck and took the time to arm themselves properly before scoping out the warehouse.

“What does a drug cartel want with museum artifacts?” Russell remarked as they were gearing up. “That’s still not adding up for me.”

“It is odd, but maybe the idea came from Charlie,” Colter said. “He had access. Maybe he saw it as a way to buy their trust.”

“Okay, then what went wrong? Why’d they take her?” Russell replied. “I don’t know, man. Something feels off here.”

Colter nodded in agreement. “We don’t have all the pieces yet.”

But they were about to get them. They moved closer to the warehouse, with Russell heading towards a side door and Colter going around the back. They saw a few men crowded around a TV in the corner of the warehouse. Behind them were crates upon crates of what surely was product. Probably tens of thousands worth of coke.

Jesus, Russell thought. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, but still. This was a serious operation.

Colter caught sight of a lone chair under a bright corner of the room. It was stained with sweat and blood, and some cut ropes hung from the seat. He alerted Russell to the scene with a subtle gesture of his raised gun. Russell’s face turned grim. He nodded minimally, then pointed with his eyes at the group of unsuspecting men. The brothers drew in closer.

Russell fired a shot directly into the TV screen, making it crash onto the ground. The men startled like rats, but they soon faced Russell and Colter’s guns. When one of them reached for the gun tucked in their pants, Colter aimed directly at him.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Colter warned. 

“Where’s Charlie?” Russell demanded. “And his sister.”

He aimed his .45 caliber M1911 at their friend Pete, who had Cheeto stains on his shirt. 

“How about you, Pete. You finally wanna share with the class, before I blow your fucking face off?!” Russell shouted. 

The depths of his voice reverberated widely in the warehouse. It set the tone for things to come, if he didn’t get some cooperation.

Pete shifted on his feet, betraying his nerves. His forehead was starting to sweat too. 

“They’re not here,” he admitted. “They left a while ago.”

Russell flexed his finger over the trigger of his gun. 

“Tell me where,” he said.

Eddie wasn’t exactly an outdoorsy kind of guy. He kicked his boot against a tree while leaning against it.

“Fucking rock in my shoe,” he muttered angrily.

He was getting more and more frustrated with the uneven terrain (and the mosquitos) the longer the five of you trekked onwards: including you, Charlie, Eddie, and two of his men, Rick and Kevin. Both of them had guns trained on your back and Charlie’s. 

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said quietly to you.

You shook your head. Disappointment didn’t even begin to cover what you were feeling as you looked at him, but at least they’d given him a shirt to cover his beaten torso. His face wasn't so lucky.

He righted you when you struggled on the gravel and loose dirt in your ankle boots. Your hands were still tied together too.

“What the hell happened to you?” you asked, as you caught your breath. 

“I needed the money,” he said, though he knew it wasn’t an excuse. “I was his bodyguard.”

“He’s a drug dealer,” you snapped. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“He was my dealer,” he admitted, though his gaze was heavy. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, but…a few weeks after I left rehab, I slipped. I never really did quit. Just got better at hiding it.” 

You let out a sharp breath, and tried to blink past your tears. Another disappointment, another heartbreak for the books.

“But when he offered me a job to pay off what I owed, he wanted insurance that I’d stick around. To prove myself,” Charlie explained. “He came up with the idea to rob the museum.”

“Why was Dr. Feinman involved? Did he find out?” you asked.

Charlie nodded with a sigh. “He caught me the first time I tried to steal the artifacts. I…I lied. Told him we planned to sell them. So instead of turning me in, he wanted to be cut into the deal.”

“What? Why?” you said. Your former boss was many things—a stuffy, self-important man chief among them—but you’d never taken him for a thief.

Charlie gave you a wry look. “Owed his second wife up to his eyeballs. Alimony’s a real bitch.”

You shook your head. That explained why Charlie hadn’t yet been a suspect in the theft. Feinman had probably helped cover Charlie’s tracks. But whatever shortcomings Feinman had, he hadn’t deserved to die like that. A shudder went through your body, remembering his lifeless eyes. You breathed out slowly and tried to rid yourself of the nightmarish image. You managed to push past that to ask your next question.

“And who chose the Native American weapons?”

Charlie’s lips pursed. He glanced over his shoulder. “He did. Thought they looked cool.”

Eddie smirked and waved his gun at him, spurring you both onward. Charlie kept walking and turned his attention back to you. 

“The way I figured it, the museum shouldn’t have them anyway.” 

Your lips pursed at that. You sort of saw his point there, however convoluted his justification, but putting those artifacts in the hands of a drug dealer was even worse.

“And this is so much better for them,” you said pointedly. 

“That’s why I couldn’t go through with it. Tried to get out of the whole damn mess,” he said. “I know what you would’ve said to me. And I knew if I ever saw you again, I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes.”

Your tears welled up again, when you saw the sincerity of his gaze.

“Okay, this touching little scene is making my balls itch,” Eddie said. He grabbed Charlie’s shoulder and turned him around. “Where the fuck are we going? If you’re trying to pull something smartass here, Charlie, I promise you, you’re gonna regret it.”

He cocked the safety back on his gun and pointed it at Charlie’s chest. Charlie raised slow, placating hands.

“It’s just a little further,” he promised. 

“If you’re giving me the runaround—” Eddie started.

“Then what? Without me, you’ll never find it,” Charlie barked back. 

Eddie’s face tightened, and he pointed the gun at you instead. You sucked in a breath.

Charlie quickly held up his bound hands again in surrender. After a beat of tension, he pointed up when he heard rushing water. 

“Hear that?” he said. “I buried it on a cliff near a waterfall. We’re getting close.”

Another stretch of silence filled the clearing. 

Eddie weighed Charlie’s words. When he was mollified enough, he lowered his gun away from you. At his command, Rick and Kevin kept you and your brother moving. 

Charlie glanced to his right side. He realized that you all were walking near the edge of a steep hill that careened downward. Taking in a breath to center himself, he turned to you.

“I love you, you know that?” he whispered.

Your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth to reply, but you found the look in his eyes suspicious. Like he was saying goodbye. 

That was when he swiftly turned. He snapped the heel of his hand into Kevin's throat and grabbed his gun while he was choking. Charlie shot him in the chest, then he clipped Rick in the shoulder. 

Just as Eddie began to raise his own weapon, Charlie met your look of shock with his own determination. 

He pushed you down the hill.

AN: I know, I know. Two cliffhangers in a row is cruel, but I promise we're getting to even more fun action and cathartic moments in Part 4! 😘

Next Time:

Russell called your name as he searched through the dense trees. Sunlight was beginning to filter through their leaves in dappled color on the trail. It gave him a better view ahead.

He stopped short when he saw a splatter of blood on the ground, painting the dirt and some dead leaves. A well of unease rose in his gut.

He headed toward the sound of running water, and he soon found another cliff. Just beyond it was a waterfall, and river below. Seeing no signs of life, he pulled back and continued to call your name, and all the while, pushing down his worry.

“Russell?!”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 4

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[pinep-ne]

Req: How do you think Charles and Arthur's first romantic dance went out? It can be a drabble or one shot, whichever you'd like! Go ham-

Ohh I love this.. I have an answer and a little one-shot for you. I got really carried away with this one,,

I think in a modern au, which is what I am assuming, for the sake of *romantic* and their *first*, it'd have to be the classic dinner date.

I like to think they knew each other beforehand from work or similar, and after some painfully obvious pining, Abby and Hosea were practically begging Arthur to just ask the dude.

I've never really thought of Charles being the type to initiate too much in relationships, being alone for so much of his life, and Arthur's probably had more experience being a ladies' man if Mary says anything, so I thought the trope fit. And with Charles being a closed book, Arthur probably didn't have any other promising ideas such as this one.

So he pops the question, to which he receives a sheepish yes. Panics a little because he was fully expecting to be friend-zoned, or a secret open-ended thing in between, and also had nothing else planned except for a place, a budget, and the time.

Of course the cherry on top is that the 'table-for-two at a warmly lit and hushed restaurant that pours champagne for hundreds' scene isn't really something familiar to either of them, so the dinner itself ends up pretty abysmal. I mean the evening is nice, and they're clicking, and it's not necessarily awkward, but they'd really just rather be anywhere but here.

Anywho. In truth, as their relationship unfurls I think Charles and Arthur would kind of stray to the more unconventional dates— hiking, camping, volunteer work, roadtrips, etc etc. It's safe to say a rich and lavish night of romance isn't really something they're super inclined to. Plus, there's just something a little impersonal about sitting across from the table from your potential lover, and these idiots have always seemed like the 'parallel play' type to me.

I hope I've embodied a lot of this in the fic well enough... sorry if it's all a bit of a spoiler!

Anywho. I hope you enjoy!!!!!!!!! It gets a little introspective like most of my works... so apologies in advance. And for reference, this is probably set in the early 2000s.

(i have this fic and more posted on ao3!)

----------

Arthur leans across the center console, trying to catch a glimpse of the apartment numbers once more. Re-checks his watch. Flips the visor down, and re-checks himself. He gives the reflection a once-over, kneading at his face, flicking back a particular chunk of hair, only for it to bounce back over his forehead. Curses, mulling over for the umpteenth time this whole affair, and steps out of the truck.

He thinks, immediately, that he should've asked earlier. In April, or something. Not December, when the sun's always further than it should be, and the truck only starts up on a prayer. It's too cold to wear something nice without it looking unfitting, but he supposes he's done okay. He wonders if Charles is any better, as if the man's ever looked bad a day in his life.

The quick jaunt to the door has his stomach flipping inside itself. He buzzes once, and twice, and considers a third time before it squeals open. Straightens. Crosses his arms before letting them down again at his sides. Thinks it better to just push them both into his pockets.

Charles is there, like he should be.

He's wearing about the same thing Arthur is, about the same thing they both wear normally, only more polished. Boots and jeans and a simple flannel, covered by a thickly lined denim jacket.

He gives Arthur a look. Something akin to amusement, maybe. Holds his gaze to Arthur's and gifts him an earnest little smile, like it's a secret just for the two of them.

Usually, he's got an inch or two on Charles, but with the man on the doorstep, Arthur's looking up a good bit. He's got one hand on the door, the other occupied with necessities, rested in the air with idle anticipation. Gaze following Arthur's every move, every frantic bout of shuffling, and fidgeting.

Arthur's chest stirs at the sight, at the tilt he keeps his neck to. He lingers on the feeling, and breaks the contact, looking over his shoulder while it settles.

It takes a second or three for him to even process that he's supposed to do something. He shifts on his heels and lets out a chuckle himself, smiling ear to ear.

"Hey," he huffs, and gazes up once more.

"Hey," Charles mimics. It makes them both laugh, the whole situation. Arthur can't seem to wipe the smile off his own face at that. He shoves fists further into his pockets, glances back to the truck, then down at his feet. Face feeling like ice, burning at the core. He's sure it's screaming quite a shade of red.

He steps back, letting Charles step onto the porch beside him. "You ready?" He asks, to which Charles hums.

They both settle in the truck. Arthur quickly fumbles for the keys before he can bear any drawn silence. His shoulders drop as the engine sputters to life, just ready to start the damned night.

He doesn't remember ever being this anxious for anyone. With Mary, there was almost a standard, or rubric for him. He knew her type well, what she fawned over in their early days. Could mold himself into it easily enough and be loved by a woman how he ought to be loved, and in turn love her the way he ought to love her.

With Charles, it seems it's flipped itself around. Some way or another Arthur'd bared himself enough for Charles to wrench that mask from him. And he supposes that is the issue, that there may in fact be nothing behind it, or at the very least, an entirely lesser man. One that would be realized, and discarded for what it's worth.

But, hell if he doesn't want it. Hell if Hosea didn't plead him for it either.

Arthur never told him about this excursion, but he plans to. Regardless if it goes well or not. The man deserves that much and more after putting up with his stubborn self. He just worries like a parent should. Arthur doesn't blame him, with how his past two relationships went. He supposes he worries too. Wonders many more chances he can take, before his heart is disciplined into something less malleable, less childish.

If anything, he is grateful that it'd have to happen now. He's felt freer, softer than he has in years. By instinct he wants to hate that, wants to beat it down before it gets a chance to blossom, but as a stronger nature, he finds that mere notion impossible the moment Charles finds him again, and shows him how easy it all is.

And Christ, it makes him sick.

They haven't even made it a minute down the road before Charles nudges Arthur, supposedly thrilled if the look on his face says anything, but with something unreadable behind it.

Arthur figures his nerves must be afire, too.

Charles turns to him, speaking low, an odd tilt of his tone, "Surprised you didn't bring me flowers or nothin'," he rests his elbow on the center console, pausing. "The girls told me about your... 'charms', as they called it."

Arthur balks, "Oh— pff. You're kiddin' me," he groans, rubbing a palm over his face.

Charles makes an amused noise through closed lips. "Maybe Ms. Gaskill just told it a little rosier than you did."

Arthur tilts his head around, shrugging. "Well... I mean, it was all puppy love back then. I ain't blamin' her none."

"Lucky I'd known before. Woulda second-guessed this whole thing."

Arthur leans back in his seat, one arm outstretched to steer, like those big rig drivers. Trying to loosen up, even if it seems unnatural. He looks at Charles, brows furrowed. "You ain't already?" Still trying to ride on the teasing, but there is genuine surprise there. He wonders if Charles wants it just as bad.

Arthur watches him open a pack of Marlboros, offering one. Watches him light both and take a drag. Voice a little more genuine, a little lower, "Can't say I'd ever," he says.

Arthur nods to that, and they fall back into silence.

The last bit of blue hour has fallen beneath the horizon, a void swallowing the road. The restaurant is further into the city. Not like neither of them really live in the city to begin with. The reviews were good enough, a little too distinguished for his taste, but he hopes there's at least some bit of casual-ness, with it being downtown.

They make it to the place, parking a block or two down. Before Charles can even think, Arthur's rushed out of the car and rounded to the passenger side. He whips open the door with a flourish and bends down with a hand out, grinning coyly.

Charles barks a laugh, turning his face away, as if he could flee the scene. "You bastard."

But Arthur persists, cheeks round with an actual smile now, still holding a palm out for Charles to take. "You ain't an exception to my romantic charms, Mr. Smith."

Charles steps out, shoving past the hand. "Sure," he breathes, face to face with Arthur on the curb, who's stood like a deer in headlights, performance quickly smothered. Charles gives him a perplexed look.

"Could use a little work, though. Face gives it away." He starts down the sidewalk.

"My— What about my face?" Arthur's pitch raises, catching up to Charles. He merely laughs in response, and throws another look Arthur can't quite put his finger on.

They reach the restaurant. A glistening tower of brick, about three stories, crammed between its larger neighbors. Arthur quickly settles in. Strides past Charles and makes a bee-line to the host, leaning across the stand. Mumbles where Charles can only hear the drawn vowels of his accent, low and grumbly.

They both follow the host like a family of ducklings. It's a lot more crowded than Arthur anticipated, or wanted frankly. He immediately begins to recognize his own askew presence, but decides not to bother.

Their seats are snug against the wall, on the second floor, with a little square table that hardly fits both their forearms, and a large window that reaches past their heads and down to their heels.

They each order a beer, in quiet agreement that they've already painted an odd portrait of themselves by wearing jeans to what is quite the esteemed establishment. There's a second of consideration before just picking the cheapest meal the place has, and deciding they'll share it.

Charles shifts in his seat. He clears his throat and takes a few sips of beer. Clearly the dread in the air has become palpable.

"Arthur, how've you been?" He says. It's blunt, and uncomfortably shallow. Arthur thinks like second nature, though with some amount of disappointment that it's where they must tread now before hitting any deep-end.

He tries his best to salvage it, anyway.

He takes a few sips himself before opening... whatever this conversation should be... and scrunches his face at the taste. Right. Cheapest options.

"Well y'know," his confidence tapers as soon as it had been mustered. "Pretty static right now. Dutch ain't sending me on any jobs lately, 'cause of the ice. Good time to—"

Charles, honest to god, giggles, though faint, waving his hand in a subtle gesture to Arthur. "We're not here to talk about work, Arthur," he sets both his elbows on the table, shifting again, like it's some interrogation. "How are you?"

Arthur sits, lips parted. He looks out from the window, then back at Charles, who stares expectantly. Then, his body suddenly rights itself, reanimating with an odd ferocity.

"Right— sorry... I ain't really connected like this, with you. Just not used to it." he pauses, "Long way from coworkers now..." he winces. "But I'm good. Not just in a shallow way, I mean. I'm real happy about this. Happy, in general. At least Hosea thinks so." he looks back out to the window, humming. "How're you holding up yourself? I know you... ain't really open up much 'round work and all."

Charles also falters, it seems, spotlight suddenly upon him. Arthur thinks the same epiphany's occurred to the both of them simultaneously. That a date does, in fact, take two.

Charles opens his mouth with a brief noise, much like a string of vowels that've been severed. He settles a little dejectedly, posture slightly shrunken.

"I don't really know what I'm doing, to be honest," he says. Avoids looking for Arthur's reaction, he barrels on. "It's just been a while since I've really... pursued anything? But I'm glad— y'know, that you are, but I'm also glad myself. Content, I think. Maybe a little anxious," he huffs and hides behind his beer again.

Arthur balks, "You?" He watches Charles perk up, smile growing, even if a little reluctant. "And here's me wakin' up 'fore dawn and starin' off half the day, I was so worried."

"We're in the same boat then," Charles says in stifled laughter. Arthur bites his cheek, stirred by the sight of it. He keeps the yarn spinning, coaxing more, slowly peeling back the layers eagerly.

The food comes, and he takes it as an opening. They share it together as planned, which could be a little tastier with the damn price of it. Not that Arthur is really paying attention.

They trade throughout the night. Little details, and Arthur learns more than he'd expected to. About Charles' mother, with sparse mention of his father. That this is both their first serious date with another man. That Charles has a sweet tooth, shyly confirmed after the pursed lips he'd given when Arthur declined a dessert. Little quirks about him that Arthur's already begun nailing into his own heart, forgetting entirely to share anything about himself until prompted to.

By the end of it, the creaky stools and odd stares all around hardly really mattered anymore. He supposes he's grateful for the experience as they walk out, and only knows for sure when they're both shoulder to shoulder on the street again. His heart stutters despite it. He feels he owes something.

"Charles. Hey, I'm uh," he stops them when they reach the truck. "Sorry if this was all kind of a bust."

Charles faces him, remnants of a smile still lingering. "What do you mean?"

"Not that I didn't enjoy it! I mean you're— it was really amazing. I loved it, I'm just kinda realizin' maybe the fancy night-outs ain't fit for us, or me for that matter," his hands stay at his middle, fidgeting with the keys, averting his gaze.

Charles looks at him even more confused. Taking a second to process that, then, his features relax in what seems to be understanding. He lends another smile, "Your company was wonderful Mr. Morgan," his voice falls back into that same timbre from earlier in the evening. "But I think you're right," he says, to which Arthur only huffs.

They settle back into the truck, silence looming over once again. Arthur can hear the rustle of fabric as Charles shifts in his seat; he doesn't feel any urgency to turn the keys.

"What about lights?" Charles asks.

"Lights?" He mimics.

"Christmas lights. Whole festival for them, next weekend. Should be near your area." He does the same move he'd done on the drive here— elbow on the console, except his head rests in his hand, and he's leant closer a great deal, wholly confident in his proposal, although Arthur can't imagine how he's already figured out the answer.

He clicks his tongue, turning the keys. "Sure," he says. "I'd love that," voice pitched and quieter, like an admission to himself.

The drive back is in contentment. Arthur feels like a wad of knots that've been untied and strewn limp on the floor. Part of him longs for more, more of Charles, more of his voice, for some odd reason. Part of him wants to just crash at his place and wake like it's been the two of them all along, but he knows he can't rush it. For both their sakes.

Dutch has always prodded him for having a pliable heart. He's never found it in him to disagree. He's starting to think he wouldn't have it any other way, though.

They reach the screen door, mirroring the position they were in just hours earlier, Charles on the doorstep, Arthur tilting his head to meet his eyes.

He sways around, air a lot colder, trying to keep his nerves about, before stilling a moment, and turning to Charles with as much coolness as he can. "What was it about my face? Said it didn't help my 'charm'?" He asks, voice breathy.

Charles squints, confused, before his eyebrows raise with recognition, a faint laugh bursting out— a small 'oh' buried somewhere between it.

He takes a breath, "You blush a lot, Arthur."

Arthur's face scrunches, "What?" He exclaims. "That ain't fair, 's just cold, Charles,"

"Mm. I noticed it that first ranch job in August," Charles offers, snuffing out Arthur's poor excuse.

Arthur turns his head to where the truck sits, trying to save the embarrassment for later, if at the cost of Charles' amusement. "Pfft. Bastard. It can't be that bad?"

"How do you think Hosea picked up on it before either of us did?" Charles supplies, still grinning.

Arthur grumbles out a string of empty curses, letting the topic go, for now at least.

A pause. The truck rumbles behind them.

Arthur inhales sharply, "Well I suppose I should get going."

"Yeah," Charles says. He rests his hand on the door handle.

"Thank you, for y'know. See you next weekend?"

Charles searches his face, eyes like palms tracing the shadowed features. "Yeah. Take care."

Arthur lends a smile in response and finds another shot back at him with a fervent sincerity. Turns around before it gets the best of him, and walks down to the truck.

[crazylittlejester]

(Modern au) How did Sun react when she found out about Sky's epilepsy? Are they childhood friends like in canon sksw, or did they meet slightly later? Also, is he more willing to accept softer, more gentle care from her after seizures? (Sorry for all the questions and if you've answered any of these before)

no need to apologize!! i love talking about this au, you can ask as many questions as you’d like :)

They aren’t quite childhood friends, they knew each other a little bit when they were younger through a summer camp thing, but Sun didn’t know him well enough and wasn’t around him enough to know about his epilepsy until they met again in college and became friends/started dating (they barely remember each other from the summer camp). Sky doesn’t particularly LIKE having to tell people, but if he’s going to be spending enough time with them and thinks he’d be around them enough that he might have a seizure around them then he WILL say something, both so they don’t panic and also so they know what to do so he can be as safe as possible. Sun reacted pretty well, she was one of the only people who didn’t immediately respond with “I’m so sorry” and Sky REALLY appreciated that, and she asked what to do if he had a seizure if he was with her and he told her. She listened and asked reasonable questions and it made him feel a lot better because he’s always pretty uncomfortable having to explain to people because he’s expecting bad reactions and stupid/insensitive questions

he DOES accept softer, more gentle care from her, but it took him a bit to accept that. Being friends with Twi and War got him a little used to being taken care of out of genuine love. he got used to them doing things for him he could EASILY do himself because they care about his comfort and don’t want him to have to move if he doesn’t want to when he doesn’t feel the best, and NOT because they think he can’t do things on his own and are trying to baby him, but Sky is prone to lashing out when he feels like he’s being treated like he’s useless or can’t do anything (which is a reaction caused by years of bad experience). Sun did have to experiment a bit to discover the fine line between being gentle with him and making him feel loved and being gentle with him and making him feel useless, but she figured it out pretty quickly and Sky really trusts her when she takes care of him. He loves her a lot and is definitely more willing to accept the gentleness from her

War and Twi are also able to be more gentle with him than most, but this is because Sky’s seen that that’s not special treatment coming from them. They act the same way with him post seizure as they do with each other when War has a migraine or Twi isn’t feeling good, they’re just sweet people who like taking care of their friends and Sky knows they’re like this because they know HE takes care of THEM with the same amount of gentleness because he loves them. He sometimes can get snappy still, but he’s much less likely to snap at them and Sun

[physalian]

Seen a couple varieties of post on here in the realm of “nobody owes you fic comments” and… actually?

Some of the reasoning was like “you aren’t entitled to praise” or “maybe nobody commented because it’s bad and it helps you write better” which is… you’re supposed to interpret my silence as constructive criticism is not great. Or, the big one, “write for yourself”.

Cool.

First of all, nobody "owes" you fic comments? I'm sorry, is this a new bitcoin I haven't heard of? Is there a bank collecting interest on fic comments? Do you have a strict budget of commentability? Ffs you should want to comment and show that you like something, you gatekeepy cynic.

I write plenty for myself. If I choose to post what that writing is online, I am doing so because I am seeking engagement. Every fic out there is posted under the presumption that the writer wants feedback, otherwise you could easily disable comments, likes, kudos, and shares. Even if somebody in the notes says “y’all don’t have to read this I’m just archiving it”

… Do you really believe they mean that and wouldn’t be excited that somebody gave kudos anyway? Have you ever met people?

Saying this because writing is supposed to be fun. I love writing for myself, but the moment I decide to share it with others, the whole of my enjoyment of my craft is split right down the middle, 50% ‘I’m happy with this’ and 50% ‘are you happy with this?’.

If I’m not getting feedback, I will keep it to myself. Time is the one thing you can’t get back and if I get a more positive and healthy experience just keeping shit to myself and not risking silence from the void, then I’ll do that, and you won’t get fic. Not here holding fic hostage or anything, but if I’ve only got 8 hours out of my week to write and one private WIP makes me happy while one pubic WIP is just a reminder that no one likes it… I’m going to put the effort into the private one, the one that’s written for me.

Now I’ve never largely participated in fandom in the first place and am utterly shocked whenever anything I write for older fandoms gets engagement and I’m not posting with the mindset of “if this doesn’t get 5 kudos fuck ‘em” it’s a subconscious thing.

It’s a “Imma try this out. Oh, ok, well posting online feels no different than keeping it to myself and in fact the act of getting nowhere makes me feel a little worse, so never mind let’s take that down and go back into the safe space of a private Word doc.”

The act and love of writing is not intrinsically tied to the approval of our readers. The act of sharing our writing is.

Especially with fanfic: fic is designed for sharing, it's the act of showing love and support over a beloved story.

And this weird idea of “only good fics get kudos” is like… babe, people gotta start somewhere. I’ll read a lot of “bad writing” that has a good idea just executed poorly and still have something positive to say. It’s not hard. Being nice takes, like, 5 seconds.

Tap the kudos, send the bare minimum of a heart emoji through the comment, hit submit, and go about your day. You’re not out here rewarding “bad fic” with attention. We can all tell which fics are of higher quality and one little comment isn’t going to turn a bad writer into an egomaniac. You aren't rewarding bad writing, you're telling a hopeful writer "I see you over there standing awkwardly in the corner, here come join the rest of us, it's okay, we're here to have fun".

All of this shit is free. They write for free, your account is free, kindness is free.

So be kind.

[liliox-ciel]

“Stolen from the tree’s hands

A regretter’s friend. The forbidden fruit”

[fallenclan]

would you guys believe me if i said i only remembered that "we thought there was 3 but there was actually 4" is an official warriors plotline After i wrote this one. because i really am just that forgetful. <3

anyway FINALLY DONE WITH THIS THREE-PARTER!!! finally i can draw cats other than feathersight honeysong and darkstone... beautiful world

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[l3irdl3rain]

I actually don’t think I’m interested in Chloe’s bloody chin post Surgery being my phone wallpaper. Thank you though.

Edit: this doesn’t actually bother me!!! Just thought it was a silly suggestion

[choccy-milky]

oh boy anon, you’ve activated my trap card. GET READY FOR A SEBASTIAN CHARACTER ANALYSIS ESSAY BELOW LMAO

ok so first off I know im obvs biased, but I don’t actually think my seb is that ooc, AND PUT DOWN YOUR PITCHFORKS IMMA EXPLAIN WHY. but im also gonna explain why I don’t think the other more friendly and lighthearted renditions of seb are ooc either. bc theres so many aspects of seb we get in the game that can be interpreted in so many diff ways, and so this is how i see it/landed on MY rendition of seb:

PROTECTIVENESS/POSSESSIVENESS: this is one of the main aspects of him, imo. his entire questline is about wanting to cure anne, and how he’s not giving up, and how he believes that HE is the only one that can do it, because “she’s MY sister!” seb is super tunnel visioned and has a one-track mind when it comes to this, and I headcanon that he’s this way because of their parents deaths. he’s the brother, the boy, he’s gotta be strong for his sister, and ofc when their parents died, he tries to comfort her and be there for her/be the rock, and it happens again when she’s sick. shes his sister, his responsibility, and he’ll die before he gives up on her and her safety.

SO, I just transfer all those aspects over to a romantic relationship instead. you just replace “shes my sister” with simply, “she’s mine/my gf/my wife/etc.” and in the same way I think seb tries to be strong and reliable and protect anne because he’s the brother, I think seb would be the same way in a relationship, because he’s a boy and she’s a girl and its 1890 and he’s chivalrous and he just sees it as his responsibility. I think the death of his parents and his dynamic with anne has baked this sort of mindset into him, and its even MORE intense in a romantic aspect, because then hormones and puberty and sexual tension and attraction is involved (plus the fact that seb in my fic is 17, so he’s older and has even stronger raging hormones and testosterone LOL.

JEALOUSY: who can forget the lines “between the two of you, I’m starting to feel left out” and “ominis simply needs a moment with you and he’ll change his mind. is that it?” the first one is more playful but I feel like the second one really showcases sebs brand of jealousy, and how biting and uncharitable it can be.

AGGRESSION/VIOLENCE: yet another iconic line with: “fine. but ominis knows, I won’t step back from a fight.” LIKE... the fact that apparently ominis knows this means its come up more than once…and im not saying seb is some unruly aggressor who flies off the handle at anything, but he defs has a capacity and is willing to get violent if HE believes the situation calls for it—basically the same way he feels about the dark arts. he felt justified using imperio to protect anne, and taking the relic to save anne, and so he would have fought ominis to get out of the catacomb. and with MY seb, while he doesn’t go picking fights with any boy who looks or gets close to clora, he’ll definitely be willing to beat up or lay hands on a creep who bothers clora/who is in the process of bothering her LOL.

SO YEAH, that’s pretty much it, and I’ll be the first to admit I definitely ramp up these traits further because he’s older in my fic and i think these traits would only get more intensified with age + being in love and also bc IM A TWILIGHT GIRLIE!!! what can I say. there are so many moments in my fic where you can just replace seb with edward and it wouldn’t seem out of place tbh LMAOO so blame twilight, it was a formative experience for me BAHAHA

BUT like I ALSO said, I don’t think peoples more lighthearted interpretations of seb are ooc either. because even all my earlier above examples, you can just focus on diff aspects of them. like his tunnel vision and obsession to cure anne? instead of seeing it as over the top protective and possessive, you can just view it in a more wholesome determined selfless sort of way. like I said we got so many nice little bits and ingredients of his personality that we can turn into anything we want, really👌just pick which flavour of seb u like best and use what we got in game to create it HAHA

AW TYY QUEEN BAHAHA💖 and aw im always so honoured when ppl tell me they consider my stuff canon that’s like the best compliment I can get, tysm 😭 and im glad you like my fic and art so much (enough for your friends and family to unfortunately know💀 LMAOO)

im adding your ask to this because it kinda ties into my seb essay. LETS GET INTO WHY A SWEET BABY ANGEL WOULD LIKE SOMEONE LIKE SEB. the answer ISSS: the same reason WE’RE also all into him I guess?? BAHHA

ok but to start off im gonna defend my seb, not only cause of what you said anon (i dont want you to feel like this is targeted to you!) but also bc I got an ask recently asking me to summarize seb and clora’s relationship since all they see from my art is that “they fuck and seb is possessive” LMAO, and I feel like ppl who JUST see my art and don’t read my fic have a warped image of my seb.

this may be shocking but I don’t consider my seb a red flag LMAO. I joke about how hes more of a pink flag tbh, but even THAT i dont even really believe, and don’t even consider him overly possessive. like yes he keeps an eye on her when shes hanging around other boys, but I feel like that’s normal (esp for 1890) and all of his most possessive moments have been when theres been a threat to cloras life/coming from a place of love and protection (especially since clora is so self-sacrificial, she’d have killed herself by now if not for seb LOL) so to me id actually put Sebastian as being PROTECTIVE as his first and foremost trait, followed by the possessiveness.

and yeah he gets jealous, but unless a dude is actively trying to get with her/hitting on her/harassing her, he’ll otherwise just kinda be unhappy about it/let it play out/ watch on unhappily LOL. and even when lawley was blackmailing clora and getting in between her and sebs relationship and lying about how close he and clora were, seb demanded answers from CLORA on what was happening between the two of them, but he didn’t touch lawley or tell him to stay away. bc seb thought that was what clora wanted, so he let her drift away. if he was TRULY a red flag, in this instance he would have just beat up lawley for taking what was "his"/not allow clora to leave him/immediately go to lawley instead of clora, and tell him to stay away despite what clora might want. (and clora even WISHED seb had interfered and done this. she was like 'why is he letting me drift away and go off with lawley i WANT him to fight for me...but she couldn't actually say anything thanks to the blackmail)

clora doesn’t just 'put up' with sebs more possessive and protective behaviour though, she actually likes it HAHA. just bc shes a precious baby angel, we all like a bad boy, even back then. just look at jane eyre, and how popular the dark and brooding and assholey mr. rochester was.

she tells seb at one point that she likes those things about him, even his immature competitive side, and his darker sides, and that he shouldn’t try to hide them or change himself because she accepts them. and even putting aside all of the stuff they’ve been through together that has bonded them (like the main canon quests + annes curse and then CLORA being cursed, and then clora being kidnapped and seb saving her) clora thought seb was roguish and charming and witty and intelligent and good looking from day 1. add to the fact that he’s just so devoted to her in everything he does, that even if he CAN get a bit overbearing at times, how could you NOT fall for someone like that😩 someone whose possessive behavior just stems from wanting to protect you and love you and want to keep you safe and cherish you like DAMN…. GET ME A SEB, TOO. WHERES MINE!!!😭😭

clora also realizes in ch 32 WHY seb is so protective of her (the trauma with his parents and wanting to be there for anne) and that she accepts it, and enjoys it, and that she might even MISS it if seb were to ever get less protective of her/might get lonely LOL, and then sebs like "i’ve "spoiled you, have i?"

so YEAH I don’t think sebs protectiveness and possessiveness goes into any toxic territory or red flag territory PERSONALLY (and the time that it DID get toxic was because of the relic, and clora DID put her foot down)

but my normal seb? whose dream in life is to whisk clora away into a tower and lock her up to keep her safe and keep her all to himself, but that he’d never ACTUALLY do because he knows its insane and unreasonable but jokes about wanting to do it anyway bc he would if clora agreed? clora finds that endearing and cute and is touched by how much he loves her and wants to keep her safe.

IN CLOSING: I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOUR AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

[diiambee]

The middle portion of Love in paradise is great because not only is it catchy— the catchines catches you off guard to the very disturbing (in context) lyrics

It has the similar vibe to songs like the first few minutes of "Our love is God" from heathers or "You will still be mine" from waitress I think.. Love songs masking bad, potentially dark, intentions..

[kakyogay]

GRAAAH I FORGOT IW AS GONNA POST THIS TODAY GGRGSGRG

anyways a couple of sliggies

and I drew this a while back so kinda changed the designs a bit since (AND I FORGOT TO COLOR THE FUCKING PEARL AGAIN GOT DAYMNIT)

[starflungwaddledee]

is that silhouette at the end of your last post supposed to be a morpho form of meta?

it looks like it has meta's wings and his galaxia

this fandom is incredible...

"what is the unintelligible shape in this shadow?!"

"pfft. starflung this is easy. despite the fact we can see only two of her tines and the hilt is wrong it is CLEARLY the legendary sword Galaxia."

kirby fans really are so powerful at picking up hints and clues from just a shred of information. anyway, here's your... reward?

and uh... and uh...

@phanzon no but it.... it could be.

[xysidhequeen]

I know in your Red Knight AU, Jason when on the rampage in another realm, after finding out that Batman replace him with another Robin.

Did Danny manage to be there for him during that time?

He did! Danny was always there for Jason. He actually wanted to chase after Jason immediately, but luckily, the first thing he did was panic call Jazz, absolutely out of his mind. Jazz promptly told Danny to let Jason have some space for a little bit to process.

Which was for the best, really. Jason needed to not feel like he was trapped and that he could be angry. He never really got that before. But the most important thing is Danny came after him and brought him home. Jason needed to feel like he could be angry, but also, like his anger wouldn't mean he'd be punished or abandoned. It was a very delicate time for him, but Danny, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and all our favorite ghosts made sure Jason knew he was very much wanted still. And that he was utterly irreplaceable.

Skulker handled this by breaking all of his weapons and suits overnight and saying he didn't know how to fix them. (Jason very much knew what he was doing, but the time spent on fixing things helped ground him)

Ember handled this by announcing that she couldn't possibly ever sing ever again unless her only other band member was there (Still very obvious, but music time with Ember usually devolved into very necessary crying time. A lot of ice cream was consumed)

Johnny and Kitty handled this by getting into a MASSIVE fight and refusing to speak to each other unless Jason mediated. (This actually was far less obvious, as the two tend to get into fights often. No one is actually certain if the fight was fake or not to this day, but they also haven't broken up once since and Jason is incredibly proud of that)

Fright Knight handled this by.... well, actually, he took the blunt approach and told Jason there was no one in any realm dead or alive he'd ever consider worthy to be his apprentice besides Jason. (This was highly effective as Frighty has always been bluntly honest with Jason. He didn't wholly believe it but it was a comfort. Frighty then beat his ass in a spar and he didn't think of much else)

Basically, everyone was there for Jason. Not just Danny. Jason was made to feel like his anger and hurt were valid, because they were. But he was also not just told, but shown how precious he was to every life he touched. He didn't get it, not at first and he struggled to really believe it.

It wasn't until later, after Danny opened up more about his own trauma and the effects it had on him that Jason actually began to somewhat understand more of what Jazz meant when she said Danny was getting better. He pieced more of the story together from the others to paint a better picture, and that's when it clicked for him. As much as he needed Danny, Danny had needed him just as much. (Clockwork may have had a hand in this as well, but whatever those two talked about, no one will ever know)

Also, as an aside, once everything calmed down, Danny was very pleased to learn the rebelling realm was now back under control and quite terrified of the Ghost King and his Knight. It saved him so much paperwork.

So yeah, this was a bit all over the place, but hopefully, it answers your question. Team Phantom and the ghosts are basically a very large family, and they might fight and bicker, but they seriously pull through and muster together if anyone is hurting. They're a bit clumsy sometimes with it, but the love they all feel is very obvious. I really, really wanted to give Jason a much more healthy origin story into becoming Red Hood than he got in canon. The poor boy went through enough. It was past time for him to get to heal.

Jason still has some hangups. His abandonment issues are still there, and his fear of rejection. But it's not as bad as it was, and because he'd been allowed to express his anger without being punished(or enabled, anger is a fine emotion to feel. But you should never let it consume you) for it, he figured out how to manage it.

He might still slip now, and then, he has trauma, and that won't go away. But Danny will never, ever let him fall. Neither will the rest of the weird little eclectic family they've built.