#also shout out to rob for telling me to post this. hi rob �� | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whumpbug · 4 months ago

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whumperless whump event day 6: summer is a curse @whumperless-whump-event

heat stroke / panting / “why don't we… find some shade, quick?”

see this post for character information!

caretaker: Gene

whumpee: Cassidy

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It was the hottest day of the year, and Cassidy was starting to think that anyone trying to travel in this weather had a screw loose.

Well, maybe he had a screw loose for trying to pull a job in this weather in the first place.

He gripped the top of the door of the stagecoach he had heckled into stopping in the middle of the road. The metal burned his hand. He stepped into it, ducking down to face the man sitting in the seat, looking about ready to crap his pants.

“Ante up,” He barked. The passenger whimpered softly and reached into his shirt pocket.

Cassidy resisted the urge to swipe the sweat from his brow. A bandana was pulled up over his face to conceal his identity, and he was seconds away of saying to hell with it and yanking it off. He had no idea why Montana insisted they had to rob the stagecoach today, but who was he to argue? He just needed to get in and get out. He could cool off at the river later.

He glared down at the man and clicked his revolver, pointing it down.

“Don’t got all day,” He grumbled. The man’s hands shook as he emptied some coins into the pouch Cassidy held out. Cassidy could see a drop of sweat fall from the tip of the man’s nose.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang through the air and everyone inside the stagecoach froze.

“Silver! We gotta run, law’s comin’!” A voice called from outside. It was another of Montana’s boys, Red.

Cassidy cursed softly under his breath as he heard distant shouts and hoofbeats. Goddamn it. He snatched away the pouch and cocked his gun.

This was just his luck. The law always managed to catch up with him at the most inconvenient times. He just hoped Delaney wasn’t with them. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to deal with that stuck-up deputy, feeling as shitty as he did.

Cassidy found his gelding, Scotch, waiting outside the stagecoach, whinnying softly. He ran at him and used the momentum to hoist himself onto the horse. Scotch anxiously hoofed at the ground.

“Sorry boy, y’gotta run a bit more, alright? I know it ain’t fun..” Cassidy placated, clicking his teeth and tapping a heel into his mount’s side.

Scotch huffed, but was spurred into action, and soon, Cassidy was off.

Red had gotten a headstart and was already out of sight, and Cassidy thought he might make it out as well, but it seemed even Scotch was feeling the sluggishness of the heat.

The law caught up.

Gunshots rang out behind him. Warning shots. They were practically at his heels. He grunted in frustration. There was almost no chance of outrunning them this time, and he really didn’t want to be roped off the saddle.

Montana was gonna kill him.

He yanked back Scotch’s reins, causing the gelding to slow and pin his ears back in annoyance. Cassidy whispered an apology and clutched at the reins until came to a stop

The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by 3 lawmen and--

Goddamn it.

“Now Silver, tell me, why in the hell did you decide today was a good day t’pull this stunt,” Gene huffed, steering Calliope in front of Cassidy, effectively cutting him off.

“Delaney.” He mockingly tipped his hat. “Fancy seein’ you here.” Cassidy tried for a smirk, but it came out as more of a grimace.

“Enough. Get down.”

He grumbled and swung his leg to hop down from Scotch’s back. He gave the gelding a light pat, partially to comfort the animal, but also partially to steady himself. Truthfully, the quick movement caused a vicious headrush that had him seeing stars.

He was really wishing he could shed some of his layers.

Gene was suddenly beside him, yanking his wrists behind his back, and he figured he oughta cooperate. It beat the alternative of being sent to the gallows for resisting arrest.

Soon enough, his hands were cuffed, and Scotch was being hitched to Gene’s mare.

Gene turned to his men and told them something, but Cassidy stopped listening after a few seconds. Now, since he wasn’t moving anymore, he felt the sun beating down on him at full force. He moved to pull his bandana down to get some air, but all he could do was jerk against the cuffs uselessly.

This heat was starting to get real unbearable.

The other lawmen left, presumably to go chase Red, and Gene pulled Cassidy towards the horses.

“You can ride double with me if you behave. Act a fool, and I won’t hesitate to drag you all the way to town,” Gene grunted, heaving himself up onto Calliope. He cooed at his mare under his breath, silently apologizing for the extra weight he was about to add.

Without warning, he grabbed Cassidy under the arms and began pulling him up. Cassidy, to his credit, didn’t try to make it harder for the deputy. He simply hooked his foot into Calliope’s stirrup and settled behind Gene.

He was too goddamn burning to try and resist anything.

He was sweating even more than before, if that was possible. When Calliope began walking forward, he found himself jolting with the movement and leaning more on Gene than he’d like to keep himself upright.

Gene wasn’t a big talker, especially not with Cassidy, but he found himself wishing the deputy would make some kind of conversation, so he could focus on something other than the dizziness and nausea that was beginning to overtake him.

He swallowed reflexively and tried again to release the bandana around his face.

“Quit squirming, Silver,” Gene barked, patting Calliope when she became fussy.

The truth was, Cassidy was trying not to squirm, but he couldn’t seem to find his balance.

He practically grew up in the saddle. He started riding when he was just 11 years old, so it made no sense that every small movement the mare made seemed to send him listing to the side. His world was tilting on its axis. He felt like he was seconds away from spewing or blacking out, and he wasn’t sure which would be worse.

“D’laney,” He slurred, focusing every muscle in his body on keeping himself upright.

“What is it?” Gene grumbled, wiping some sweat from his neck with a handkerchief. Lord, this weather was miserable.

“I.. I don’t..” Cassidy swallowed again, blinking against the black spots that danced in his vision. “D’laney..”

Suddenly, Gene let out a curse as he felt Cassidy start to slip to the side. Calliope and Scotch both let out a worried huff.

Gene caught Cassidy limply by the waist, straining his arms behind him to hold the man up. He cursed again at how clammy Cassidy's skin felt, even through the layers of fabric.

“Goddamn it, Silver..” He breathed, carefully dismounting Calliope while keeping a hand on Cassidy to keep him steady on her back.

Cassidy’s eyes were half-lidded and hazy, and he was unnervingly pale. His lucidity was going, and fast. His breath was coming out in short, quick pants and sweat dripped down his jaw.

Gene made quick work of pulling him off the horse and lowering him unceremoniously to the ground.

He squinted against the sun and scanned the area around them. “Why don’t we go find you some shade, alright? Won’t do me no good if you kick the bucket on the way to town.”

Cassidy found it odd that the deputy was being so amiable to him, but he wasn’t about to complain. Usually when he felt this run down, Montana told him to suck it up and figure it out. This was a welcome change of pace. He was too out of it to think too hard about it.

Gene half-helped-half-dragged Cassidy to a small tree off the side of the road. It did little to block the sun, but it was better than nothing. He lowered him against it and jogged back to lead the horses over as well. Scotch flicked his ears worriedly and leaned down to nose the side of his rider's head.

Cassidy was still panting hard against the heat, feeling like his entire body was pulsing with nausea and vertigo. He had heard about one of O'Malley's boys dying of heat sickness a while back, and he vaguely wondered if that was what was happening to him. He shuddered at the thought.

Gene approached once again, and before Cassidy could attempt to ask, he made quick work of yanking off the fabric around his face, before bending down to begin stripping him of his extra layers of fabric. He removed his own hat and fanned Cassidy, seeming a little more worried than he was initially leading on.

Cassidy wanted to say something, maybe make a snarky comment and the situation, but instead, his head lolled forward lazily. He could practically feel the deputy’s worried gaze boring a hole into the top of his mussed hair.

Suddenly, he felt gentle, calloused fingers grasp his wrist and press against the artery. Gene counted quietly and frowned.

His voice was now much more serious. “We need to cool you off.”

Suddenly, Cassidy was leaning back a little further against the tree with the buttons of his shirt pulled open. Gene fumbled around his bag for his waterskin, and unscrewed the top. He wet a small strip of fabric and placed it on the back of Cassidy’s neck before pressing the spout to his lips.

Cassidy drank desperately, not caring that the water dribbled down his chin. He was left breathless when the waterskin was pulled from his mouth.

“Alright, you just stay there. We’ll keep moving once you’re more.. stable. And for the love of all things holy, wear less clothes if you’re gonna pull a stunt in heat like this.”

Cassidy let his eyes flutter close, his head finally feeling a little clearer.

Gene clicked his tongue in disaproval and smoothed Cassidy's sweaty hair from his face.

"Just so you know, you're still gettin' locked up for this. I'm not that nice."

Cassidy huffed a small laugh. Yeah, it was probably deserved.

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#whumperless whump event day 6: summer is a curse #whumperless whump event day 6 #whumperless whump event #heat stroke whump #enviromental whump #whumpblr #whump prompt #whump community #gene and cassidy #cowboy whump #western whump #fun fact this was the first fic i wrote for them

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ohbo-ohno · 11 months ago

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tagged by @ceilidho in wip wednesday, and while i do tend to lose any focus when i post about something, i do still love attention. so here we are <3

i'll tag literally anyone who sees this and wants an excuse to try it for themselves :)

ceil shared a ghoap thing so i will too - this is 1.2k from a pwp wip that honestly might be a little too dark/weirdly kinky for me to comfortably post on tumblr lmao, it's way more geared for twitter ghoapers. it's got the same caliber of plot as the absolute worst pornos you've ever seen.

(also i can't remember if i posted part of this before, someone tell me if i have and i'll post a different wip lmao)

The knock comes late at night, frantic and loud in the otherwise silent forest.

If Simon were asleep, it would've woken him. As it is he's just disturbed from his late night cup of tea. It's an annoyance certainly, but not one he's uncomfortable ignoring. The whole reason he moved to the little cabin in the woods was to get away from people, he's not above pretending not to hear a knock at the door.

But his guest is persistent. They go on knocking for at least ten minutes, an incessant pounding at his door.

Ghost's lip curls in a snarl as a headache starts at the base of his skull. Decades in the military have left him easily irritable and with aches and pains all across his body, quick to flare up at the slightest aggravation - and the knocking is quickly becoming far more than a slight aggravation.

He finally gives in a full ten minutes later, throwing his mug into the sink without checking to make sure it didn't break and storming to the front door.

He throws it open with a scowl, growling "What?!" down at the idiot on his front doorstep.

Said idiot happens to be an attractive young man, tall in his own right but just barely eye-level with Ghost's throat. He's heaving where he stands, sweat soaking through his white shirt and leaving it nearly translucent.

"Oh thank God," he gasps, one hand coming up to grasp at his heart. "Please, sir, I need help. Someone's- someone's chasing me!"

Ghost cocks an eyebrow, glancing over the boy's shoulder. It's possible that someone could be hiding behind a tree out in the forest, but he doubts it. Something tells him if this kid was really worried about someone chasing him, he wouldn’t stand still making all that racket on Simon's porch.

“Why should I care?” He gruffs, setting his feet wide and glaring down at the boy.

“Thank- what?” He makes an aborted movement forward, then freezes with his foot mid-air. “What do you mean why should you care?”

Simon doesn’t bother repeating himself, willing to wait him out.

“Wh- of course you should care!” The boy’s voice rises, and he looks indignant. “You would just let me die out here?”

Ghost almost smirks at that, just barely managing to wrestle down his amusement as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Yeah? You gonna lead the killer right to yourself, then?”

The boy has the audacity to look confused, a little angry twist to his lips. “What are you talking about?”

“All that pounding and shouting. Almost like you want to be found, huh?”

The kid scowls more deeply at that, abandoning the scared little boy act with ease. “You fuckin’ jackass-”

“Watch it,” Simon snaps, entirely unwilling to put up with disrespect on his own property. “Let me guess - I’m supposed to let you in, then you try to knock me out and rob me blind?”

He nearly pouts at that, sullen little thing, crossing his own arms across his chest and glaring at Ghost’s throat. “You don’t know that.”

A laugh rumbles from Ghost’s chest, almost against his will. “Oh, yes I do. You think you’re the first dumbass kid thinkin’ he can take advantage of an old man living alone?”

The kid glances up at his face, tracing his expression. “Don’t look so old to me.”

“I should. Must be at least fifteen years older - what are you? Twenty?”

Another pout and a quiet, “Nineteen.”

Ghost whistles lowly, resting his shoulder on the doorjam. “Nineteen. When you were born, I was sneakin’ booze into the barracks.”

His scowl grows. “So? You’re old, what, you want a trophy?”

Oh, Ghost already knows this one is gonna be fun. He rarely indulges in brat taming these days, but when one presents himself so easily… well, he sees no reason to resist. Not out here in the middle of nowhere, no one around for miles to hear the boy scream.

He takes another look at the kid, now that he’s not planning on throwing him off the property. He’s got a bit of bulk, probably just recently started working out, and there’s a cocky energy coming off of him. Ghost would bet this is far from the first time he’s robbed someone with this little ruse, probably thinks he’s the smartest burglar in town. Too bad he chose the wrong man to try and trick this time.

Ghost straightens from the doorway, rolling back his shoulders and standing tall. The kid isn’t short by any means, but compared to Simon he’s practically little. Odds are he’s still got some growing to do, but for now Simon gets to enjoy the way he can loom over the teenager.

“No one ever taught you to respect your elders, boy?”

Oh, the kid doesn’t like that one. If he were a dog, his hackles would be fully raised, but he’s left settling for curling his lip back in a snarl. “You think just cause you’re old I have to respect you?”

“I think you’ll respect me because you’re on my property. That, and I don’t think you’ll like what happens if you keep the attitude up.”

The kid flushes, either from rage or the innuendo. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You think just because we’re out here alone you can say whatever you want to me?”

“‘Course not. We’re out here all alone, which means I can do whatever I want to you. And I will, if you don’t get off my property.”

The kid looks him up and down, then visibly steels himself. Ghost bites back a smirk. He’s not used to being underestimated, but he finds he doesn’t mind when it means getting to see the kid play at being his equal.

“What do you think you’ll do if I don’t go?”

Oh, Ghost can’t wait to beat the attitude out of the little shit.

He doesn’t let the kid see how much the rudeness is getting to him, intentionally keeping his face flat and unimpressed. “What’s your name, kid?”

That permanent scowl doesn’t shift, even as a flash of confusion crosses his face. “...John.”

Ghost nods. “Alright, Johnny. If you don’t get off my property, I’ll take you over my knee and teach you what your daddy should’ve.”

It’s nearly impossible to keep from grinning when Johnny’s mouth pops open in surprise, the flush creeping further up his neck. “You- you’ll- who do you think- you can’t-”

Ghost reaches out like he might slap Johnny, instead snaps right in front of his nose, sharp and loud. “Spit it out, boy. I don’t feel like listening to a kid learn how to speak all night.”

Johnny’s letting himself get worked up, and not doing a good job of hiding it. His teeth grind and he shifts from foot to foot, like he’d like to try and attack Ghost. He’s apparently smart enough to know how idiotic that would be, and Simon finds he’s almost disappointed. Wonders idly if he can provoke the kid enough to save himself a chase.

#if i were a good person i'd post some serial killer ghoap x reader #but i can't risk losing steam on that lmfao #ask game #not really but i want this in the same spot as those :)#bo writes

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rollinouttahere-writes · 1 year ago

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Strawhats with Rob Lucci’s younger sibling? But they aren’t aware of CP9 due to ✨reasons✨ and just think their big brother wanted to work at Water 7

Anon, I have some extremely unfortunate news for you. My dyslexia pulled a fast one on me and completely omitted the word 'strawhats' from this request, and I didn't realize it until I had already finished writing it and came back to post it. I am so sorry, feel free to send this request in again if you want to give me another shot to properly answer it. I'm gonna be reading requests 50 times over just to make sure I don't do this again. I am mortified. Hope you like this regardless, so sorry again.

Estranged

Yandere Rob Lucci x Sibling Reader

2.7k words

This was going to be a good thing for you, a healthy change of pace. An opportunity to move on from your past and no longer let it weigh you down. It was for the best, even if everything felt more than a little hollow right now.

After you finished putting away the rest of your belongings, you meander to the open window to take in your brand new surroundings. Water 7 was easily the most beautiful city you’d seen in your entire life.

A light breeze carried the scent of the ocean into your small apartment. The walkway as well as the canal beneath you was busy, full of people going about their daily lives. Everyone here seemed so gleeful and carefree, as if they didn’t have a single problem hanging over them. You wonder if you’ll be able to fall into a similar state of mind.

Probably not, but you can dream.

Your train of thought is interrupted by your cat, Roberto, leaping up onto the windowsill next to you. You lightly scritched behind his ears as he looked down at the bustling city with his typical scowling expression. He was the grumpiest cat you’d ever met, but that just made his toleration of you all the more endearing in your humble opinion.

Shutting the window, you make your way to the door, “I’m gonna head out and take a look around the neighborhood, don’t cause any trouble while I’m gone.”

Roberto barely spared you a glance before jumping down to the floor to curl up in a sunny spot to sleep. A small smile tugged at your lips. Yeah, you weren’t worried about him doing anything bad in your absence. For all his standoffishness, he was a very mild mannered cat. As long as his food and water bowl were filled (which they were), he was fine.

You’d barely made it out the door before a couple of kids went sprinting around you, narrowly avoiding a collision. One of them shouted a quick “sorry” over their shoulder but kept on running to wherever their destination was, giggling about who knows what.

They looked similar. Siblings probably. Just like that, your mood took a nosedive, much to your aggravation. How childish to be bothered by merely seeing two potential siblings. You needed to get over it already.

It’s not like you were ever going to see Lucci again. He was gone and you needed to accept that.

The relationship you had with your older brother was odd to say the least. Mostly in the sense that you didn’t really have one to go off of. The last time you’d seen him, you were three years old, so you two could only be so close.

At the time, you felt like you were thick as thieves with him. Wherever he went, you followed, and vice versa. He’d do everything with you. From tying your shoes before you figured it out, to letting you wear his top hat, to fighting anyone else at the orphanage that had the audacity to try and pick on you. Even back then, you could distinctly remember how stoic he was, but you never doubted that he cared about you. And also his pigeon, Hattori.

The only time you could recall where he was upset with you was when you’d spent the whole day pestering him to tell you about your parents. The orphanage was all you’d ever known, but surely he remembered something about them. After hours of changing the subject or blatantly ignoring you, he snapped, “It doesn’t matter! They aren’t here anymore, only I am. Just be happy with that and stop asking.”

You didn’t bring it up again. Not that you exactly had much of a chance to.

The following day was a strange one. Some men in suits showed up and took Lucci “on a walk”, not letting you come with. They never came back. When you asked the nun running the place where your brother was, she acted like she had no idea who or what you were talking about. It was as if he’d never existed.

Without your brother around to protect you, it became abundantly clear what a shithole that place was. You’d come to the sad realization that he’d been giving most of his food to you so you wouldn’t have to go hungry. There was also the issue of having to watch more and more kids disappear every couple of years and having no idea what happened to them or if you were going to be next. The general consensus between you and the remaining children was that they were being sold into slavery, but you never were able to confirm that.

As soon as you were old and strong enough to go off on your own, you did. For years you would bounce around the island doing odd jobs to stay alive all while trying to get a clue as to your brother’s whereabouts. Nothing ever came up, so when you scraped together enough money, you left for another island.

You repeated this cycle for years. Working, investigating, and then moving when the trail was cold. As disheartening as it was, you couldn’t bring yourself to give up. He wouldn’t give up if the roles had been reversed, so you wouldn’t either.

At least that’s what you told yourself at first. When you were first thinking this, you never imagined that he would still be missing over a decade later. You had never considered that you would genuinely never find so much as a hint to his whereabouts. Or his livelihood.

At this point, it was easier to assume he was dead.

“I could go for a drink,” you mumble to yourself as you take a look around and notice a bar. You’ve been so caught up in your own thoughts that at this point you don’t even know where exactly you are. How responsible.

You push open the door to the establishment and do a quick once over. It’s busy, but not crowded. You should be able to quietly enjoy a drink or two without much trouble.

The sound of wings flapping catches your attention, and the next thing you know, something lands on your shoulder and starts cooing. Slightly startled, you snap your attention to where it landed and see a white pigeon happily nestling itself into your neck.

Holding out your hand, you gently guide it onto your finger to get a better look at the bird. It’s wearing an adorable red necktie and looks positively thrilled to see you for whatever reason. Despite your previous bad mood, you can’t help but smile. You’ve always had a soft spot for birds. What a cutie.

Someone at a nearby table laughs loudly, “Look at that Lucci, even your bird is better at making friends than you are!”

Your blood runs cold.

“Lucci?” No. No it can’t be.

Slowly, you crane your neck around to look at where the voice had come from. That’s when you see it. The top hat. The dark, curly hair underneath it. Your breath catches in your throat as the man turns around. His facial expression is one of pure annoyance, until his eyes meet yours. Then he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

It’s him. He’s aged, obviously, but you would recognize those features anywhere. That’s your brother. That’s Lucci.

As if on autopilot, you mindlessly approached him, “Lucci, is that really you?” Your voice is so quiet that you’re not sure he could even hear you. He didn’t respond, so you continued, “I looked everywhere for you. Is this where you’ve been?”

Logically, you know you should be ecstatic to see him again, but as he continues to silently gawk at you something else creeps into your heart.

Rage.

“You gonna say something, or are you just gonna keep staring?” One of your hands snaps out to shove at his shoulder. Still nothing. “I’m your fucking sibling, your own flesh and blood, and this is how you treat me after all these years?! I thought you were dead!” His fists clench and unclench, and his breathing is becoming uneven, but he still won’t talk to you.

In a fit of fury, you snatch a pint of beer off the table and throw the contents of it in his face, “Fuck you, I never should have wasted my time looking for you!”

Hattori flies off you from the commotion and is circling the table. The patrons of the bar are mostly silent save for some gasps and hushed whispers, but you don’t hang around any longer. You can’t. You don’t want to let that bastard have the satisfaction of seeing the tears that are seconds away from spilling over.

How dare he? How dare he do this to you? You’ve spent all this time remembering him fondly, searching for any sign of him, and when you finally find him completely by accident, this happens. He gives you the silent treatment and acts like he doesn’t know you. You thought he was dead or a slave when in reality he was leading a normal life and getting a drink with his buddies.

Maybe he’d been glad to get rid of you.

You choke out a sob as you run, not sure where your feet are taking you but hoping to see anything that can point you to your apartment. All you want to do is to curl up in your bed with your cat and cry. Fuck it, maybe you’ll pack up your things and leave Water 7 tonight. You can’t stomach the thought of seeing him again now.

You can register the sound of someone running after you. Probably the guy whose drink you threw if you had to guess. Way to go, (y/n), making a scene and ruining your reputation within hours of moving to a new city. You don’t want to face the consequences of your actions though, and pick up the pace to try and get away from them.

This doesn’t work and they close the gap far quicker than you expected. Strong arms wrap around your torso, and they pick you up and carry you into some quiet alley. You try to kick and scream, but your kicks do absolutely nothing and a hand covers your mouth.

As soon as you’re out of sight of the general population, you’re put down and pushed into a wall. You can finally see who your assailant is, only to lock eyes with Lucci. Scoffing, you slap away his hand, “What? Now you want to talk?”

“Yes, I do,” his response surprises you. You hadn’t actually expected him to speak to you after how he was acting at the bar.

“Oh really? How come you didn’t want to talk before? Too embarrassed to speak with me in public?”

“I can’t speak with you publicly, but not for that reason.”

He didn’t elaborate further, but you decided to move on. There were a lot more things to get to. You cut to the chase, “Where have you been?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

Forget this, he’s fucking with you at this point. You try to walk away from this pointless conversation, but he’s holding onto your wrist and won’t let go.

“I’m leaving, I don’t want to talk to you,” you’re trying to wrench your arm out of his grasp but he’s much stronger than you thought. He wouldn’t budge.

“We’re not done talking,” his eye twitched in irritation at your behavior.

“We never started talking! You aren’t saying anything meaningful, I would get more out of talking to a brick wall!” You screamed at him, trying not to start crying again.

While you’re trying to get away, you feel something land on your head. This makes you stop and calm down ever so slightly. The cooing immediately gives away that it’s Hattori. You hold up your hand for him to hop on. How is it that you’re connecting with the pigeon more than your brother? You sighed, “At least someone is happy to see me.”

From your peripheral vision, you can see Lucci stiffen and avert his piercing gaze. He grumbles a bit, “I am… Happy. To see you.”

You scoffed, “Wow, that sounded so convincing.”

Lucci released your wrist, and if it weren’t for Hattori thoroughly enjoying the attention you were giving him, you would have taken the opportunity to leave. You eyed him warily as he inched closer to you, looking incredibly unsure of what he was doing. Then his arms reached forward and enclosed around you in what was hands down the most stiff and awkward hug of your life.

He let go and took a couple of steps back, refusing to make eye contact with you, “There, do you feel better now?”

Your memories took you back to the time you’d scraped your knee while playing tag with Lucci when you were children. In typical little kid fashion, you were inconsolable from the minor injury. He carried you back to the orphanage and bandaged your knee himself, but didn’t know what to do when he saw that you were still upset. In a last ditch effort to get you to calm down, he’d brought you into this uncomfortable side hug while looking everywhere except for at you. The whole display was so silly looking that you couldn’t help but giggle at him.

Despite everything that just transpired between you two, your heart felt warm. He hasn’t changed a bit after all. You chuckle, “No, that hug was terrible. Not to mention that now I smell like beer.”

“And whose fault is that?” His eyes narrowed at you accusingly.

“Yours for making me mad enough to throw it at you,” you laughed again at the dramatic eye roll he did in response.

“You’re the only person in the world who I would let get away with that, I hope you appreciate that,” he muttered.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” you shrugged off the comment, not putting much stock into it. The previously tense atmosphere had relaxed, but there was still some awkwardness to it. It was unavoidable really, after this much time apart you two didn’t know each other. What were you supposed to talk about? The questions you asked before went unanswered so now you didn’t know what to do.

“What are you doing in Water 7?” Lucci had mercifully been the one to break the silence.

“I just moved here. Wanted a fresh start, you know? What about you? Can you at least tell me that?”

“I’m a foreman at the Galley-La Company, have been for a few years,” he states plainly.

You’re honestly surprised to have received a real answer. You decide to push your luck and ask another question, “How come you never came back?”

Lucci took his time mulling over how to respond, “I wasn’t able to. If I could have, I would, but it wasn’t an option. I can’t tell you why, but I need you to believe me. The second I’m in a position to do so, I will tell you, but for now I simply can’t.”

“What the hell are you tied up in?” Something bad is going on here, but you’ll be damned if you have any idea what.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Well, looks like he’s done answering your questions again. At least you made some progress. The awkward silence came back, and you found yourself wanting to go home. You needed time to take all of this in and decompress.

Setting Hattori onto Lucci’s shoulder, you tell him as much, “It’s been… Interesting seeing you again, but I’m tired and want to go home.” You don’t wait for him to respond before hurrying away.

“I’ll walk you back,” Lucci closes the distance quickly and the look on his face leaves no room for argument. You suppose that’s fine. Him knowing where you live will make meeting up again later easier.

You have no idea how your relationship with him is going to evolve after this. Considering how much time has passed, it’s impossible for things to go back to how they were. Maybe you’ll be able to forge a new and improved sibling bond with him, but only time will tell.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #yandere one piece #yandere #platonic yandere #rob lucci #i am so embarrassed kill me

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augustjustice · 2 years ago

Note

i HAVE to go with steddie bodyswap 👀

I'm so glad you asked about this one! Bodyswap is one of my favorite tropes, so this fic is a bit of a pet project for me. It's set post-S4, around April. Eddie is still trying to finish up his final senior year, and the boys each get a taste of each other's respective struggles with school/parents/chronic pain, etc while their friendship is still somewhat new but they're already steadily growing closer. There's also a lot of silly shenanigans with the rest of the ensemble figuring out what's going on with them along the way, and a little bit of plot explanation for why exactly this happened.

A decent-sized chunk of shenanigans below the cut:

It's not his finest moment.

Because Eddie is only half paying attention when Robin turns pointedly to Steve, frowning as she gives him a curious, probing look.

"Hey, Steve," she starts slowly, a questioning lilt to her voice, "did you hear about Tammy Thompson?"

Steve snorts, shooting Robin a coy, teasing look.

"What, is Muppets Live back in town?" he asks expectantly, like he's waiting for her accompanying cackle of laughter.

It never comes.

Instead, Robin's eyes widen as she breathes out, "Holy shit."

Fuck.

"Holy shit, I'm not crazy."

Then she wallops Steve hard on the arm.

"Ow!" Steve shouts, clutching Eddie's shoulder a tad dramatically as he pouts at her. "What the hell was that for?!"

"That was for lying to me, Steve Harrington," Robin snaps pointedly, and Steve's eyes widen as the penny drops.

"Oh, shit."

"Oh shit is right," Eddie agrees from Robin's other side.

Robin turns and smacks him too.

"Damn, Buckley, put those guns away," Eddie complains.

"I'm mad at you, too, Dingus #2."

"I think, technically, I'm Dingus #1 right now."

"Hey," Steve protests with a laugh, "You can't steal the top spot from me, Munson. I'll always be Dingus #1."

"You're damn right you are," Robin interjects. "And also, can I just say…what the fuck, you guys?!"

"Steve?" she confirms again.

Steve looks sheepish, giving her that awkward little wave he sometimes does, wiggling all of Eddie’s ringed fingers in a way Eddie really doesn’t think he should still find endearing when Steve is wearing his body.

“Hey, Rob.”

She whips back around to Eddie, looking almost bug-eyed.

“Eddie?”

He gestures to his own borrowed body with a dramatic flourish.

“In Harrington’s handsome flesh.”

“Oh my god, that really is you inside of there.”

“‘Fraid so,” Eddie tilts his head in acknowledgment. “We’ve gone full Invasion of the Body Snatchers on you, Buck.”

Steve’s brow creases, face screwing up in genuine confusion.

Eddie definitely shouldn’t find the way his nose crinkles and mouth goes all crooked, the way they always do, cute. At this rate he’s gonna develop some kind of a complex.

“I thought it was Freaky Friday?” Steve says quietly, like he’s talking more to himself than he is to them.

The back of Robin’s head hits the wall with a thud, like she’s been physically hit full force with the reality of the situation.

“And here I thought alternate dimensions beneath our feet waiting to swallow us whole was as weird as it was gonna get around here, but, no. We’ve officially found a weirder place. Somebody alert The Weekly Watcher.”

A moment passes, and then her eyes widen in what looks to be slow dawning horror.

"Wait!” Robin jabs a finger in Eddie’s direction. “I told you about–but…oh, god, it wasn't you."

While Eddie blinks owlishly at her, she jerks her head around to look at Steve, doing that thing they do where they have a whole silent conversation with just their eyes and eyebrows.

"God, this is weird," Robin confesses when they seem to have settled whatever just happened.

"Yeah," Steve agrees with a sigh, "tell me about it."

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #bodyswap #bodyswap au #asks #wip tag #steddie bodyswap au

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splendentmoon · 2 years ago

Text

Incorrect Quotes/6/

hello!! hehe I haven't posted in a while, huh? I'm sorry, I was having some personal problems but I'm back!

enjoy! ✨

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-Jin in the middle of a call with Yin, driving a stolen car with Red Son bleeding-

Jin: don't worry Yin, I'm already taking Red to the hospital!

-Jin turns to see Red Son and notices that his eyes are closed-

Jin: RED IS DEAD!!

Red Son: JUST REST YOUR FUCKING EYES!!

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-Jin in the passenger seat next to Yin who is driving-

Jin: ............Bro, where are the kids?

Yin: in the back seat.

Jin: Bro, they're not...

Yin (stop the car suddenly): HOW ARE THEY NOT THERE?! WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY?!

Little Sprindax: they forgot us at the McDonald's games...do you think I can?

Little MK: I guess...

Little Spindrax: well....... THEY ARE SONS OF-

-Spindrax shouted several bad words with MK covering his ears until Yin and Jin picked them up-

----------------------------------

Yin: do you really think it was a good idea to buy MK that squeaky toy?

Jin: yes, don't worry, MK is very quiet and calm, we won't regret it!

-After 2 weeks without sleeping or concentrating thanks to MK liking the toy-

Yin: did you say?

Jin: yes, my fault

----------------------------------

-when the trio of idiots decide to give MK drugs-

Yin: this kid is crazy...

Jin: BACK FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY!

MK: LET ME GO FUCKING FUCKING COPS! DO NOT TOUCH ME! THEY DON'T KNOW WHO I AM?! I AM THE FUCKING MASTER ASSHOLE!!

Spindrax (holding the stoned MK): damn, MK is being a jerk right?

MK (pointing to Red Son): AND YOUR FOUR EYES ARE GOING TO FUCK YOUR MOTHER!! YOU WILL SEE!!

-Spindrax and Jin manage to take him home to keep people safe-

----------------------------------

Red Son: So, what's the stupidest thing you believed as a kid?

Jin: I thought that if Santa didn't have a chimney he couldn't enter the house.

MK: I thought I was going to be happy...

Spindrax: I thought that-...wait, what the fuck did you say MK?!

----------------------------------

-Yin, showing her garden to the whole group-

Yin: look, here are my crops, aren't they great?

Yin: People think they are potato crops, but no, they are weed crops.

Jin and Spindrax: Oh, you invite?

Yin: let me think about it...... NO! It's my fucking speck to sell! Where do you think I get money for bullshit? From Narnia?!

Jin and Spindrax: selfish...

----------------------------------

-the stupid trio (MK, Spindrax and Red Son) were caught drunk by the police for vandalism and were taken to Yin and Jin, who robbed a store, MK came up with something to escape-

MK: I can get my pulse down to zero but only for a minute RUN! -snaps his fingers and temporarily dies, all the officers surround MK and his friends escape-

Yin: MK scares me sometimes....

Spindrax, Red Son and Jin: same....

----------------------------------

-Spindrax and Red are in a fancy restaurant for demons-

Spindrax: They used to give bigger glasses in this restaurant.

Red Son: really?

Spindrax: Yes, but they changed them because people were taking food hidden inside them.

Red Son: and how do you know-...

Spindrax: the people were me jsjsjsjs

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Red Son: I'm the only one who can do it!

Jin: you're also the only one who doesn't trust his friends.

Red Son:

Yin:

Spindrax:

MK: run Jin....

Red Son: HOW THE FUCK DID YOU TELL ME?!

Jin: I'm screwed!!

----------------------------------

MK: Why does he call you baby in the chat you have with Mei?

Spindrax: How about we stop talking for a while?

----------------------------------

Spindrax: Red Son won't wake up, what do I do?

Jin: Did you try to kick it?

Spindrax: Yes.

Jin: I ran out of ideas.

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Spindrax: A party is the celebration of life, bringing people together so that the guest of honor knows how much they are loved. DBK has done a lot for us. This is our chance to do something for him.

MK: Forcing him to have fun at a party he doesn't want to be at?

Spindrax: I knew you'd understand.

----------------------------------

Red Son (to his parents): I tell you, my friends are competent -a call arrives and he answers-

MK (on the phone): Red Son! Spindrax tried to make pasta in the coffee pot and now it's broken!

----------------------------------

Teacher: Your brothers got into a fight.

Yin: What they what?!

Jin: Did they win?

----------------------------------

Spindrax (at Red Son's funeral): I need a moment with him.

All: Of course. -They go-

Spindrax (leaning over Red Son's coffin): Okay, listen, you little shit. I know you're not dead.

Red Son: Yeah, don't fuck around

----------------------------------

-MK and Spindrax set fire to half the kitchen-

Yin: I hope you have an explanation for this.

Spindrax: We have three actually-

MK: Pick your favourite.

----------------------------------

Spindrax: Alright, listen up you little idiots.

Spindrax: Not you MK. You are an angel and we are delighted that you are here.

----------------------------------

Red Son: I'M GOING TO SET FIRE AND BURN EVERYTHING TO THE GROUND! I AM ANGRY-

MK: Awwww, you're so adorable! Come on give me a hug~

Red Son: NO, I'M SUPPOSED TO BE AFRAID! TREMBLE BEFORE MY WRATH-

Spindrax (recording): -laughing- awww how cute

----------------------------------

Yin: MK, how is it possible that you have gotten into so much trouble in one day?

MK: No... It didn't take all day.

----------------------------------

-Trio of idiots on the roof of a very drunk building-

Spindrax, Red Son and MK: JUMP!! JUMP!! LETS JUMP!! -the three jump-

-at home with Yin-

Yin: something just happened...

----------------------------------

Jin: I'm fast at math.

Red Son: Ok, what is 38 times 76?

Jin: 24.

Red Son: That wasn't even close.

Jin: But it was fast.

----------------------------------

Spindrax: You think you're smarter than the rest.

Red Son: I don't think I'm smarter than the others. I know that I am.

----------------------------------

Spindrax: We need to open this locked door. Red Son, give me your credit card.

Red Son: Here. -He gives-

Spindrax (pocketing it): Thank you. MK, break down the door.

Red Son: ...DAUGHTER OF-

----------------------------------

Red Son: So I might be in love, but you're not gonna like it

Spindrax: just rip off the band-aid

Red Son: ... is your brother, MK.

Spindrax: put that damn band-aid back on.

----------------------------------

-Spindrax is holding MK to prevent him from falling off a cliff-

Spindrax: hold on please! That without you there is no team!

MK: Bye, Sis! Thanks for giving me a hand, but it's slipperyyyyyyyyyyyy.... -falls off the cliff-

Red Son (catches it in the air): uff....... BUT HOW DO YOU DROP IT ANIMAL?! DON'T YOU SEE YOU'RE USELESS?!

Spindrax: WHY DON'T YOU SAY IT TO MY FACE?!

Red Son: YES I TELL YOU QUADRUPE!!!

Spindrax: SHUT UP VIPED!!!

----------------------------------

#lego monkie kid #lmk mk #lmk qi xiaotian #mk #lmk spindrax #lmk yin #jin lmk #venomdragon #VenomDragonShipping #lmk au #abandonedprinceAu #spicynoodleshipping #spicynoodles

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red-doll-face · 10 hours ago

Text

Snow Angel

Chapter 1: elation

low to medium honor Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Hi, I’m unwell about him and I needed to post this bc I need people to talk to about it and I probably also need help lmao also may be a bit ooc. New to posting here 😳😖😵‍💫

Warnings: dubious consent, low honor Arthur, smut, naive reader

WC: 7504 this is so long I’m sorry boys

Tags: innocence kink, size kink, vaginal and oral sex, no TB thank god. Arthur is sweet still but has mean tendencies obviously

Arthur’s new visitor has him hot under the collar.

The snow up here is about to overtake Lucky, the loyal Clydesdale you had known since you were a girl. His legs amble forward, winds whipping his mane and tail about. Hunkering over him; gripping his reins for dear life, you try to urge him further. Your throat is tight with nerves and of course the impending reality that Lucky has been slowing down. That the weather has only been getting worse since you started riding out. The last thing isn’t worth mentioning.

As if he could hear you over the blizzard winds, you clutch tight to his reins.

“Please Lucky, you can do it, boy. You can’t leave me here,”

His hooves trudge through the snow, his big legs managing to stay above the snow fall. He falters a bit here and there, more often as you go on. Grunting and shaking at his tack. You pat along his strong neck. The cold turns the moisture in the air to ice, the heat in his breath disappearing.

“I’m sorry, Lucky…” Shuffling onward, leading him on. Frost gathers over your coat and you would think the landscape beautiful if not for the lethality of it all. You’re not sure if people are meant to survive in places like this. With nose numb and fingers creaky in your thick gloves, you know you have to stop. Scanning the horizon for anything resembling a shelter, imagining yourself curled up in Lucky’s side, you can see the soft glow from a cabin a ways down the road. The only vestige of humanity you had seen for miles on what feels like the edge of the world. Windows glow with the tell tale orange of a warm fireplace. Your foot nudges into Lucky’s side for your last push, your last chance.

“Go!” you slap the reins on his neck, working him up to a trot. You approach and see what looks to be some sort of barn. It’s a small stable, a nice place to put a horse or two, maybe a dairy cow. Another horse lazily sleeps, fresh hay for his bedding. At your entrance, he perks up but stares oddly, easing back. Lucky knickers and snorts, just happy to be inside, you think.

“I’ll be back, hopefully not too soon…” You leave him there while he starts mooching the hay laid out for his new roommate. You pat his flank and watch the ice melt from his lashes.

Braced for the cold, arms crossed over your chest, you pull your legs forward through the snow outside. It’s a fight to get through the piles of snow, clouding around your lower thighs. Finally, you're on the wooden steps of the porch, which creak a bit underneath your feet. Panting, you meekly pat on the door.

“Please, I need help,” you shout, trying to speak over the blizzard. “Is anyone there?” You can hear the crackling fire, feeling like it’s warming you already. Heavy steps come to the door.

“Who’s out there?” A gruff masculine voice answers your call. It grates over your nerves, though if you weren’t alone you might have found it to be soothing. With any luck, he’s the father of a nice family whose heart would be softened by a lone young woman near frozen to death on his front door.

“Please, sir. I promise it’s just me,” your pleading seems to have done the trick and the man opens the door. Finally hitting you with a heat you had almost forgotten. He moves to the side after sizing you up. Hesitating even for a second causes him to dip his head to direct you inside. Forcing your stiff legs to lift. He takes a moment to analyze the gap you left behind. Carefully, he shuts the door and pulls the curtain closed. Maybe he had been robbed before? Lonely homesteads were easy and preferable targets for bandits. Typically neighbors were miles away, if you had any neighbors to speak of or to.

You get a better look at him, tall and strong, chest the size of a barrel. The sleeves of his plain white shirt are rolled up and the top two buttons are undone. Leather suspenders keep his deep brown trousers up. He stands as if unsure what to do with his body besides intimidate you with it, showing not an ounce of uncertainty on his face.

There is no one else here and if there is, they’re in the other rooms of his quiet and moderate home. The house smells of coffee, a disarming smell. Salt pork and boiled potatoes too. Certainly provisions that could last through this harsh winter.

“What the hell were you doin’ out there?” His tone is accusational and judgemental. He must think you an idiot to be traveling in this weather and maybe he wasn’t all wrong. Instead of talking, your jaw clicks your teeth together. The hard look he gives you melts away and he helps you out of your coat. He's almost surprised to see you, eyes stuck on every piece of you revealed to him. Snowflakes and icy debris are shed from you and you sigh. You try your best to get your natural reactions to stop but they insist on ceasing on their own. The man huffs, stepping towards the percolator on the stove. You watch on, feeling strange that he hasn’t really invited you to sit or do much of anything else.

“You mute, girl? Asked you a question.” he takes a seat by the fire in a big chair seemingly made just for him. He sets down the coffee before taking a match and striking it, lighting the end of a cigarette he retrieved from the table. The coffee steams gently and you take it; seeing as you're very sure he had made it for you. Jerkily, you move to sit as he sets his eyes on you. The couch is soft and warm, homely with a pretty blanket, thick and colorful patterns. While his gaze seems easy and relaxed, he watches you like a hawk.

“No, I… was getting something for my granny. She’s not feeling too good. Ma sent me to get something for her. The doctor, I suppose. Didn’t make it too far,”

He exhales. The smallest noise of amusement.

“I can imagine,” You take a sip of the coffee. Warm and sweet smelling. “What kinda mother sends a pretty thing like you on a fool's errand? You really thought you was gonna bring your ol’ granny a doctor in this?” You stare, feeling a bit like a child being scolded by this man.

“Oh well, I-”

“Your granny probably already kicked the bucket while you were out here, damn near gettin’ yourself killed. If it weren’t for me, well…” scratching at the darker scruff that grows on his face. His hair is that same light brown, almost blond. He sucks the smoke out of the slim roll of paper. It's bitter and acrid, a contrast to the warm smoky fireplace. Your brows furrow. Deciding to change the subject before you say something out of turn, you take another sip out of the enameled cup he had given you. The smoke he inhaled releases in a cloud around his features, obscuring the knowing smile he wears.

“I’m sorry mister, but I don't think you gave me your name…” He ashes his cigarette, tossing his legs up on the table in the center of the room. The weight of him and his leather boots don’t rattle the table, he’s careful with himself.

“Arthur. You married?” His gaze is as hot and red as the cherry burning on the end of his cigarette. You almost start to feel uncomfortable. If there weren't a blizzard outside, you might consider walking out. He hadn’t even given you a chance to say your name. Your nervous look only seems to enthrall him more. You only now notice he’s looking at your hands but thick gloves still encase your fingers.

“No, I'm afraid not,” You contemplate telling him a lie but think about when you might have to remove your gloves. You’d rather not get caught in a fib. Though perhaps his rather brusque flirting might have come to an end should you have warned him of a man who would be looking after you. Being out here by yourself seems to have him convinced that no one truly was looking after you anyway.

“Young lady like you, unwed and caring for your Ma, Pa, all by yourself? Now that’s just sad, is what it is,” The butt of his cigarette meets its end in the ashtray on the table. Your face tweaks into a small nervy smile, nodding. “You are… a sight, for an old ugly bastard like me is all,” Your fingers start to twiddle, feeling your face warm, maybe because of the flames licking at the logs on the hearth. He’s certainly not the ugliest man you’ve ever seen nor the oldest, you frown at such an oddly self deprecating comment. You’re surprised he doesn’t already have a wife and several children running around, reading stories by the fireplace that you sit in front of. You revert back to old tactics.

“I left my horse in the stable out front, I hope you don’t mind too much,”

“Ain’t no trouble,” His hands seem to itch to be doing something, he also seems to twiddle his fingers. One hand propped over the arm of his chair.

“Why don’t I get you somethin’ dry to wear? Should be turnin’ in soon. Gettin’ late.” He stands, hands on his knees and then he’s going into the next room. It gives you a chance to evaluate the room you're in. The mantle has all sorts of strange little knick knacks, the walls, plenty of… distinctive hunting trophies and supplies. Several gleaming guns in different finishes are displayed proudly. Although pretty, they don’t seem unused. If anything, well loved and worn. You’re starting to feel every bit the lamb in the wolf’s den this man is already treating you as.

He comes out of the room, holding a pair of cotton long johns in a cream color. You’re not sure why he thinks you need them but he has been nothing but hospitable if not a bit too strong on his pleasantries and very blunt. It can be lonely out here in the country, so you offer a small smile. He stares at you, even as you awkwardly side step him and go to his bedroom. You close the door and sigh, nice to just have a moment to yourself. Away from the strange man and the cold. The warm smell of fabric and the natural musk of the wood calm you, along with the faint smell of something distinctive to him. You claw and peel at the layers of your clothing, riding gear and boots. You notice how wet your clothes are from the melting ice. Perhaps he knew better than you did.

You slip into the warm cotton of what must be his long johns. They’re nice and feel almost new. Far too big for you. That man, Arthur, did seem to be quite big. Here in the quiet room, you can remember the wind, the cut of the cold air against your cheeks, hear the wind rattle the glass. You're glad to be out of all of that.

It’s a rather modest room, a bed, an armoire, a nightstand, a cabinet. Cigarettes and a few cigars, several empty bottles of bourbon. Some old faded photographs but you're not so brave as to pick them up. The room is severely lacking in the touch of a woman department, bed pushed up against the wall. The smallest mirror adorns the wall, dusty and plain. You turn to the door and see him, standing there.

You startle and put your hand to your chest.

“You scared me Mister…” no last name to utter has you confused, he had never given you one. Your smile isn’t forced but it fades a little when you see him looking at you.

“Morgan, Arthur Morgan,” he’s really giving several once overs that feel like thrice overs, drinking you in like those bottles of bourbon. Your face feels hot again. He stares at the junction between your legs, up to your chest and then finally your face. You don’t think you've ever seen a man look at you like that; not that you spend very much time around men. The type of men at the saloons in town were no good for you, or at least that’s what Ma would say.

“Put somethin’ on the stove for ya, man can’t leave no woman hungry…” he puffs up in pride a bit, you tilt your head. Hopefully he hadn’t been watching you snoop around, or even worse, changing. You nod, a small gesture.

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I really appreciate your kindness,” he makes space for you to exit down the small hallway. You try not to brush against him but he’s so big, fills up the sparse room between you and the wall. He drops his arm on the doorframe, making you pass underneath him. Looking up at him, you can make out the color of his eyes, a pretty summer blue. His shirt and suspenders smell clean and wintery. He makes you feel miniscule, a mouse and cougar. His features; squared and rugged from weathering the elements, are set in a stony expression but there’s excitement in his eyes.

“Been a long time since somebody called me a kind man, usually it was the opposite,” he says. His hands twitch again, the one in the door is a tight fist. You know that you can’t leave. And you wouldn’t beat him should he chase, you doubt you’d even make it to Lucky. Especially now that he insisted you put on his underclothes. The temptation to be in dryer clothes has trapped you here. You flinch as his hand descends to rest on your neck and collar, rubbing. His body moves forward, taking your silence as acceptance.

“Please, I-“

“I think you need a man to take care of you, honey, need a man to keep you inside- wouldn’t let you go out alone like this if you was my woman,” his hand squeezing at your shoulder, you don’t dare to move. Broad chested, he seems to block out all of the light from the meager lamps and the fireplace.

“Lemme show you how a man looks after a girl like you,” He eases off you and guides you down the hall, your heart thumping out of your chest. Certainly not because of the romance but the claustrophobic feeling of being alone with a man such as him, big and very strong in his advances. Thankfully, not too strong. Yet, a voice in your head warns.

The weight of him thumps down the wooden floors of his home. He’s big and he seems very adept at killing things. And you think you’ve heard the name Arthur Morgan before. The very man has his big hand on your lower back, warm and firm. He guides you to sit, pulling a chair out for you at a small dining table, plates and tin cups, forks out for your dining needs. Very gentlemanly for such a gruff man.

“I already had my supper but I thought you might be hungry,” He sets down a bottle of fine brandy and a plate of steaming food. More of the potatoes and salt pork, fried in more pork fat. Your hands slowly reach for a fork. He has two small tumblers set out, in which he pours two small servings of the liquor. You don’t think you’ve had much to drink except perhaps a bit of wine. He slides one glass to you and you nod.

“Thank you-”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. Think your company is enough for me,” He stares and he watches until you finally take a slow, small bite of the food he had laid out for you. As if the name he called you wasn’t enough to make heat rise to your face. He hasn’t done anything too bad yet. But you can’t shake the feeling that something at some point may go awry. Not that you could do much about it. He’s made sure of that. Finally he takes a sip of his drink, throwing it back with no hesitation. It slips easily down his throat. You decide to taste it and it immediately begins to burn the back of your throat, you can’t help but make a displeased face at the bitter taste. You can hardly bring yourself to swallow the fiery liquid. He smirks.

“Now ain’t that cute. You ain’t never had no drink before?” Arthur’s face is smug and endeared all at once. As if he’s just seen a puppy or a litter of kittens, all snuggled up. You feel embarrassed at his reaction.

“I have; some church wine, once,” You murmur out, trying to sound brave but you only sound defensive and inexperienced. Based on what you’ve seen of him, you don’t think there isn't liquor he hasn’t tried, an animal he hasn’t shot, or a gun he hasn’t fired.

“Where you from, girl?” You finally tell him your name in, again, what is a defensive and girlish tone when you had wanted to be assertive. He quirks a brow, repeats his question and somehow your name in his mouth makes you shiver. The half smile he gives you is even more charmed. He leans over the table, pouring himself another glass of brandy.

“I’m from west of here, out by Long Pine and that abandoned lumber mill. My family has lived there a while. My Pa traps and once upon a time, he went to California to find some gold with my uncle. My ma is from round here…” He listens to you, attentively. Focused on how your mouth moves, how your fingers mess with your hair. The prongs of the fork sink into a softened piece of the potatoes he made you. He nods, watching as you take more and more bites of the food he has given you.

“Not really from nowhere, moved around a lot when I was a boy. Had to make my own life. Didn’t matter though, that all went up in smoke…” It seems as if he remembered bitter memories at your included topic of family. It's all rather secretive, no Ma or Pa to be mentioned. The crackling fire does little to fill the silence.

“Do you like living here?” You ask him, hoping to not put him in a bad mood, especially with drink involved. It was your turn to question him anyway. He looks up at you, his eyes meet yours and your stomach feels strange. It feels like he's glad you’ve asked him a question. Like your interest is unexpected.

“Well, maybe not right now, weather’s shit, long ride to town, real quiet and lonely, but I can think of a few things that have made it more bearable today,” You nod along, his voice rough and deep, you can feel how it almost touches you, over your ears and down the sides of your neck. “I’ll let ya finish, all this yammerin’ on,” you try to finish but he really has given you much more food than you had even wanted nor needed. He corks his brandy, storing it away and takes away the glass you hadn’t touched after your first sip. He finishes your glass, putting away the dishes in the basin.

You’ve eaten all you could and you stand, placing the dish with the rest.

“I ain’t the best cook but I get on okay,” He stands in the small kitchen. As you set down the plate, he corners you again.

“Might be better if you did it next time, the cookin’, I mean. Your Ma teach you to cook?” You can read the subtext. Did she teach you to cook for a man, your prospective husband and family. The idea makes you feel strange. Just what does this man think is going to happen?

“As much as any mother teaches her daughter, I suppose. Somehow I feel you wouldn’t be too hard to impress,” You let your tongue move before you think but he seems to just enjoy it. He breaks into a smile, playful but still, he has you backed into the counter.

“I like your little spitfires, girl, think I’d like your cookin’ too, more than any fancy bullshit they make in St. Denis,” You feel that shy heat in your cheeks. A compliment for your cooking and you haven't so much as boiled some water. His hands are up on you, your hips, petting and rubbing with his thumbs. “You’re just the prettiest girl, you know that?”

“Mr. Morgan…” you saying his name in a soft tone only makes him more excited, leaning in. He crowds you with his body, his broad shoulders and muscled forearms trapping you against his wooden counter.

“Y’ain’t got no boy at home, do ya? Some yellow-bellied greenhorn, trying to touch on you like this?” He’s almost angry at just the idea of you having a younger beau waiting for you at home. No man has ever called you pretty, let alone the prettiest thing he ever saw. Maybe being alone on this mountain has driven him mad. “Wouldn't blame the feller, I ain’t exactly no better,” his hands tighten, pinch into your flesh, to almost the bone.

“Sir, you must be drunk, I don’t think you mean that,” his expression becomes more annoyed at your words.

“So you do?”

“No, I don’t have anyone, Mr. Morgan,” his grip is on your waist now, just under your breasts. A satisfied smile stretches his lips, his eyes relax again.

“You can call me Arthur but I kinda like when you call me that, respectful little girl I got. N’ I ain’t the kinda man gets drunk on half a bottle,” The front of his wide frame is up against yours again, a quiet groan leaving him, something rather stiff presses into you. “Mean every damn word I’m sayin’. I look like I’m a liar?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Your voice falters slightly, “I’m sorry, I hardly know you, Mister, I shouldn’t be here, I can’t-” You sound so squeaky and whiny but you have no wherewithal to notice. Your hands come up to grab him, trying to push him away in a panic. He’s finally pushed you enough that you’ve started to squirm.

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll make an honest woman outta you, said I’d never leave ya alone,” Then there’s an iron grip on your wrists. “Swear I’ll make you my wife,” He’s shushing you, calming you like a skittish mare. His lips against your ear, the scratchy stubble on his jaw against the delicate skin of your face. Your arms stop pulling so he lets you go, slowly. He takes a deep breath, thinking for a moment. He deliberates, looking down at your chest, at your face and hair. You look up, bewildered and unsure.

“Darlin’, I’m gonna take ya to bed now and I don’t want too much fuss from you, do you understand me?” His voice is hot and cold, low like a sweeping bird of prey. Your eyes well with tears. You can’t believe that this man is the one who saved your life. His hand is around your neck, so small in his hold. You can only imagine what will take place in the next moments of your life.

“I said, do you understand me,” He punches his words out one by one. Arthur’s fingers don't tighten around your neck, a small notion of his patience. He hasn’t quite ravaged you like you thought he might either, hasn’t torn your clothes and groped at you crudely. Hasn't gripped cruelly at the hair on your head. You hum and nod, trying to stay strong but you’ve never been particularly good at that. He hasn’t been too mean about this and you hope nothing you do spurs him to be meaner.

“Good girl,” he picks you up, like the bride he thinks you are, carrying you towards the bedroom you had changed in. He’s much more excited now, happy to show off his strength. His tone is proud; you think of you but you're not too sure. You think you’ll make the distinction.

“Please, Arthur, no,” You whine through your hiccups, trying not to sound too defiant but it’s hard with the word ‘no’ in your mouth. “Can’t we jus-t-t-talk more? Please…” You cling to his shoulders, aiming for his heart strings. He looks down to your face, your appeasing expression. “We haven’t even kissed yet…”

“Well, honey, I can fix that,” His smile widens, he sets you down on the bed, blankets sprawled over the mattress. His mouth is over yours as he spreads your legs and pushes the breadth of him into the space. “You're so goddamn beautiful when you look up and beg,” His lips fit over yours and start kissing, licking along the softest flesh. You squeal and hold onto his shoulders, legs kicking weakly at nothing. His lips don’t feel unpleasant, you actually quite like the feeling of him kissing you, even with the taste of liquor on him.

“My darlin’s first kiss, how special is that,” It’s piping hot and messy, his spit all over you, the strange feeling of his tongue trying to touch yours, inevitably succeeding. You gasp and grip onto him. Your heart feels like it’s going much too fast.

“As good as you look wearing my clothes, I think it’s time we take these off you,” He pulls at the buttons of the long johns you put on, fiddling and then impatiently tearing at them.

‘Christ alive’ are the words he mutters when he has the front opened, staring at your breasts. Your face is white hot and your hands reflexively move to cover your chest. However, he’s faster than you, grabbing onto you. His eyes of blazing blue warn you without a word spoken, then they scan over you, drinking in every detail. His gaze makes you burn, you can feel the reverence of every second he spends committing you to memory.

Like a furnace, he runs so hot, making you sweat. His hands are slow and gentle, rubbing the swell of them, watching the way your face reflects your feelings. You're not supposed to enjoy how a man touches you, especially a man like Arthur. But his hands are just the right texture, temperature.

You can hardly think of anything to say, listening as he pants, getting spurred on by the sight of your skin, your soft underbelly and the sensitive tips of your nipples. How to make him stop is completely lost to you. A small part of you doesn't want to find out how.

“C’mere,” he lifts your midsection to his lips with his big rough hands, helping himself to you, putting one of your nipples in his mouth. Every bit of you tingles, a million shivers rack your insides. The sound you let out makes him laugh. Each swipe of his tongue, glance of his teeth on you makes you squirm. His stubble tickles your chest and scrapes roughly. Your hands are easily held down, he catches them.

“I thought I said there weren't gonna be much fuss,” His voice is firm, scolding. “Tell me you were listenin’ to what I damn well told you,” You flinch even if he hasn't even so much as raised his voice. You nod again. “C’mon darlin’, wanna hear you say you’ll be listening to me from now on,” His hands wrench the rest of the union suit off you, down your now bare legs.

“Yes, I’ll listen,” you breathe and whisper, putting those meek airs he seemed to like in you were you not giving him lip.

“That’s better, you know how to make me happy already, don’tcha?” This time, his head lowers to tuck into your neck, biting and sucking. The feeling has you squirming away more, harrowing noises that embarrass you to the core leak from your voice box. Your fingers are in his hair, legs squeezing him as hard as they can.

“You like this, I know you do,” when you try to shake your head, his hand slaps your thigh, like a horse that needs to get. You feel betrayed almost, having convinced yourself that he wasn’t lying, that he wanted to be sweet on you, marry you. That he wouldn’t hurt you. Whimpering and a small cry, make him look at you.

“Aw, honey, don’t like when I hit ya?” You’re so confused, as if he would care, his tone only slightly mocking you. A laugh jitters his words, a deep soft sound. Warmly, he kisses you, rubbing along your thigh, spreading you open. Can hardly see when his hand dips down between your legs, his thumb grazes the little slit which usually was nothing more than your unmentionables to you. The hair that grows there is tenderly pet and laid flat by gentle strokes of his fingers, making you whine, shutting your legs. To no avail on his strong grip on your legs.

“Sometimes girls who don’t listen need a little spankin’ from their daddy, don’t they? Not all the time but only when you ain’t actin’ right,” a finger of his starts to explore the tightness of you, pushing against you. Your body feels alight, a pure pleasure filling your lower belly. A pleasure which you had always been told was for lesser women. But how did he know how to make you feel so good?

“Promise I won’t hit ya if you keep listenin’, honey, never raise a hand to your face, neither. Girl like you don’t need a violent man,” your legs are tense and your lungs stall, unevenly breathing as he takes liberties exploring your most private spots. His finger is shallowly pumping against you, testing your limits, watching your face. Your body is half relaxed and half electrified. You can hardly stand to loop up at him, shy and ashamed but not enough to stop your body from relishing in his ministrations.

“Need a gentle hand, don’t you? Like when I’m sweet to ya,” dipping his head lower, he licks down the centerline of your body, “need your man to lick your little pussy, sweetheart,” the sticky spit dries on your skin, mouthing at your belly and down to your pubic triangle, tongue parting the fattened folds. If you were being forced to do this, why couldn’t you fight anymore, couldn’t kick at him? Why could you only whine for him? Were you really so weak? You spasm and moan, thighs over his ears, his hair tickling you. Small fires are set underneath your skin, you don’t understand why your body panics but also receives him, wants him to continue, finds his touch pleasing.

Arthur spreads you wide over the edge of his bed. Your hazy eyes look at the wooden ceiling, hips moving around in search of the way he makes you feel. He licks along your slickness and drinks you in. After a minute of his exploratory advances, he finds the spot you so longed for him to touch, heaven blooming on the tip of his tongue. The loudest he’s ever gotten you, abandoning the fight to enjoy the smoothness of him moving in circles.

Everything seems to slow down, makes you feel as drunk as drinking that bottle of fine brandy might have gotten you. You can’t understand what he’s making your body feel and do, continuing his assault. There’s something building in you, the pleasure is stacking up and you’re not sure what should happen when you’ve no more room for it inside you anymore. It feels warm, sloshing against the walls of your lower belly. Something about him makes you feel protected, even as he goes against your will.

“Arthur,” it's embarrassing how uncontrollable you are, how you’ve just let it slip from you in the face of this man. Your rather lewd call of his name makes him groan, licking all that you’ve been leaking from his lips. You were warned that a sin such as this was simple to avoid but you had let Arthur do what he wanted with you. Any propriety of yours peeled off along with his union suit. You want to cry, every tingle, every pinprick of pleasure, every bead of sweat pushes you further. His hands hold you, thumbs pinning you wide open for him. An undignified moan has you covering your mouth. You don't want to caterwaul like a cat.

“Wanna hear you, honey,” backing away from you, his fingers taking the place of his tongue. They start pushing harder than they had before, trying to pull even more from your lips. Tears track down the sides of your face. You promised you’d listen so you let him hear your desperate whining. You call his name, your legs helping your hips wiggle. Guiding his fingers to the perfect place.

“Arthur, I can’t, stop,” It's a weak plea, something is happening to you, wells up inside you, and you feel fit to burst. Your face is all scrunched up, mouth drawn open to cry for him. He responds by squeezing your hand.

“I ain’t gonna stop, girl,” You thrash, his fingers slick, sliding in and out of you, faster and faster. The feeling of him defiling you is so warm and good, even as he holds you down, waiting out whatever wracks your body. Your back arches and he gives you an affirming noise, encouraging you to buck and meet him, crying out. Floods and floods of sensation make you writhe and twitch, your mind blank for just a moment, completely subject to his will. And he has surely imposed it on you, you lay at his mercy, panting, confused and so very relaxed. The most perfect feeling you’ve ever felt, and at the hands of a man who has just met you. At least he also proposed. You don’t have the courage to look down at him. When you do work yourself up into looking, he has the most satisfied smirk on his face, looking at how he’s ruined you with just the touch of his tongue and the tips of his fingers. With sweat dripping all over you, and your hair all tangled about you, you're hardly the image of beauty.

Yet the look he gives you makes you wonder just what he sees in you. All of the comments at just how pretty, beautiful he found you. His grumbles are low, a panther's purr, a wolf's growl.

“I don’t think you know what you’ve done to me,” He drags out his words, his hands unbuttoning his pants, pulling down his suspenders, leaving them dangling down his hips. There's an erotic undertone to the jingle of his belt as he unbuckles it and spreads it open. His shirt, he unbuttons in a hurry, ripping and popping at least two of the buttons off. Revealing his chest and his own belly, soft but still showing all the years a man like him has labored, kept himself upright on a horse for hours. There are scars, pale and jagged all over him and you think of him telling you where he got them. You're getting more and more nervous, you can see what you know men have going on between their legs but you haven't seen one so close.

Arthur is only happy to show you, rather proud looking of his manhood, standing at the edge of the bed. Your skin is damp but you can’t bring yourself to complain about the temperature. His hand comes to caress it, slow motions over the entire length, while watching your face, staring into your eyes.

“C’mere,” Husky and slow, his command moves you, makes you sit up and let him pet your hair, your cheeks. “Give it a kiss, honey, right there on the tip,” Putting your mouth on him makes you shiver, sure that this isn’t what husband and wife do behind closed doors but who were you to argue? Impolitely, you can’t tear your eyes away from him, staring at the small slit at the very tip, the veiny texture, the red and pink flush to the skin. Wiry hair crowns the bottom, the same dark blond of his stubble. His hand only covers some of it and you had thought that his hands were big. His hips inch forwards, eager to get you to lick and kiss him. Something in your throat makes you gulp.

“Be a good girl, ‘fore I lose my goddamn patience,” Rushing to appease his rather short tone, you nod and approach, trying not to seem so tense. You're sure your face gives it away anyhow but he seems unbothered, gladly holding your hair, fingers rubbing along your scalp.

“There’s my girl,” He sighs as you kiss, gentle and timid, a small peck at the very tip and center of him. It's warm but you don't taste anything with your lips closed.

“Do you… want another?” Hushed words fall from your mouth and he gives you another smug look. Looking down at you, at the way you tremble, your nude form. He must know that he has you right where he wants you, naked on his bed, about to do unholy things with him, despite your reluctance just twenty minutes ago. Easy and whore-like. You thought good men don't like women like that. Maybe he’s not such a good man.

“Mmhm, then you can open that sweet little mouth of yours,” You kiss and ease your mouth open, a groan escaping him at your tongue brushing against his smooth tip. Your mouth obediently widens to fit him over the width of your tongue, salt and the natural smell of him on your taste buds. “Take me, jus’ like that, sweetheart,” you’ve never thought in your whole life that this could happen to you, a man holding you and making you take him in your mouth. You struggle to inhale around him, trying not to retch as he pushes forward. He looks down at you, breathing heavily at the mere sight of you. Could swear there's some type of love in his eyes, some softness that gives way for you. Even if you think he’s mad.

“Don’t know how I got on without ya, darlin’, won't be able to after this,” Arthur pants out his words. His rough noises of pleasure spur you on, relaxing your jaw for him. He grunts when he hits the back of your mouth and throat and you whine, holding yourself open for him, flushed with heat. Your fingers go to touch his thighs, feeling skin you’ve never felt before. The hairs and marks on his skin are completely novel to you. The first time you’ve actually touched him. His words lull you, soothe you more than you want them to, considering he could still prove them to be empty promises.

Very suddenly, he pulls himself away from your mouth, a debaucherous line of your saliva dripping down to the floor, the weight of it pulling between you two. You feel dazed, gone from the world until Arthur pulls your attention back up, tilting your face to look upon him. He looks smitten, a thumb pulling across your lips, wet with the deed you’ve just done.

“Was gonna finish in your mouth, tha’s how good y’are, make a man like me finish from just the sight of ya, chokin’ on me,” He hitches you up the bed, so there's more space to take up more of it. You know what’s next but at the same time, have no idea what to expect.

“Look at what you’ve done, just by walkin’ in here, lookin’ like you do,” He strokes along himself again, spreads your legs, like he’s meant to be there. “Drove me damn near crazy, teasin’me, actin’ all sweet. Can tell you just need a man to be sweet to,” Your face is hot at his usual heavy flattery, not nearly close to used to it. Even after he had talked all his talk. His hands are on your hips, squeezing your waist. Then the tip of him is pressed flush to the slit between your legs. He sees the way you tense up.

“Relax, darlin’, can’t fill you up if you’re shut tighter than a frog's ass,” He chuckles and you wince at his peculiar and crude comment. “Aw, I’m just messin’, c’mon, show me that pretty little spot,” reluctantly, your legs open and you relax again, letting him cover you, press into you. “There she is, I know what you need, girl,” The push of just the tip of him makes you whimper, panicking and clenching your thighs on him. He fights to gain control of you, his voice in your ear to shush you.

He’s lost in his own pleasure for a moment, letting you cling to his chest and shoulders, pumping shallowly inside of you. The most obscene slick-wet sounds fill up the room, along with his groans, your squeaky whines. You're frightened at how quickly your body accepts the feeling of him officially taking your innocence away, turning the uncomfortable stretch into the most toe-curling warmth inside of you, the sweetest pain. Every loose part of you bounces to the rhythm of his slow rocking.

“Lemme hear how good you feel, honey,”

‘Arthur…Please,” you cry and beg for him, not entirely deciding on what you want him to do. He seems to know anyway, pushing harder and faster. Arthur may not be your husband and you not his wife, but he treats you so well, kissing you, reassuring you, holding you so tight.

“Who do you belong to?” He pants between his pleasured grunting, rocking his hips and slamming against the most sensitive parts of you. “Y’ain’t listenin’, girl,” He smacks your inner thigh, making you squeal again, clenching down tight.

“I said, who do you belong to?” His hand is on your throat, there's the smallest squeeze, right between his thumb and middle finger. The growl in his words makes you swallow, letting him feel the effect he has on you.

“You, Arthur,” Your answer is soft and just what he wanted to hear, a hazy smile breaking his straight face.

“That’s right, only man you need,” Slinging your legs up on his elbows, he makes it feel as if he’s been going easy on you, the frame of his bed almost scraping against the wooden floors. “Ain’t gonna last much longer, you’ve got the tightest little pussy,” You certainly feel as if he’s stretching you on him, the thickness and length pressing into. So delicious, you roll your hips, even if you don't notice it until he’s smirking down at you, all smug and Arthur-like.

“Gonna make yourself finish on me, sweetheart? Makin’ yourself feel good?” He lets out his gruff laugh, which compels you to stop your movements on him, shy and embarrassed. Your little pout makes him grab at your face. His wolfish grin doesn't falter, even as he grunts and forces himself as deep as he can, into the squeeze of your walls.

“Keep goin’, don’t you stop now,” He holds your face, not too harshly, you grind into him, the dirty slap of his hips into your thighs so obscene. Shivering and bucking against him, you feel that euphoria spread down your muscles, boiling your blood. Your moan has him groaning and holding you down, grabbing your hips so tight. Your spasms don’t stop him from rutting his hips into yours.

“Ah, shit, darlin’-” In a hurry, he pulls away. You whine, your body missing him, missing the stretch of him within you, the fire it sends racing up your spine. Your grip is practically tearing into his arms and shoulders. The sound he makes is like nothing you've ever heard before, a growl of what sounds like so much pleasure it's painful. Something hot and messy splatters against your skin, all over the softness of your belly. His face shows his relief, his brows are still drawn together, Arthur’s arm wipes sweat from his forehead.

He gasps for air, watching as you ease and relax. The pads of his fingertips pet down your face, so soothing and mindful. It's truly suffocating now, the heat in the room makes you wish you could open a window. You're exhausted out of your mind, limbs numb. He hums, turning you over gently, kissing along your neck and lips. ‘So good for me, honey’s and sweetheart’s and darling’s’ tumble from his lips, slow and easy praises. He licks at you like you're made of honey, down your neck and chest. Drifting off, you murmur and sigh.

If you made it, thanks for reading and pls send feedback 💝😭

#arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 x reader #low honor arthur morgan #tw dubcon #I’m insane I know #low honor arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #hamburger help me #red writes #:v

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cartoon-buffoon · 6 days ago

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Recently I was watching one of my favorite Sonictubers playing Alex Kidd, a different Sega game. Anyways I deeply love this YouTuber's content, I'm a regular in their stream and my first ever piece of proper digital art was fanart for them (oh god this drawing sucks but looking at this you can tell I HAVE improved!)

Anyways shitty fanart of their character getting robbed by Fang The Sniper aside, in the Alex Kidd playthrough they call me out by name? Obviously it's in a joking manner and their shout-out to me is just a brief gag but they do say "shout out to Toon Buffoon" (high-key check out this channel, it does good Sonic reviews and the characters have lore within the reviews). But yeah, watch the video for yourself and see, THEY DO SHOUT ME OUT! Upon hearing this the first time I was shocked and as you can see by my comment I'm beyond flattered and it was this that made me realize I've made an impact on at least a few people?

Like I owe a lot to SpinyNorman and his YouTube channel. That fanart I made above was something I did with my fingers whilst waiting to receive meds yet I decided to share it with him, he complimented it, and that inspired me to draw more and actually have fun with it. I don't just wanna strictly talk about my favorite YouTuber though and getting back to what I said: my support of this FAIRLY SMALL CREATOR and their great content (seriously go watch their vids if you like Sonic) made me go "people register I exist...". Like, this may sound I'm fucking with you but I genuinely cannot fathom the idea people are aware of me and my dumbass existence. From my name being shouted out, to the new followers here on Tumblr, to a few comments over on my AO3 it makes me genuinely happy. When I started posting stuff I was an socially anxious wreck, now while I still am I can't help but be thankful for all the people I may have left an impression on to the point they register me as somebody. Whether this be my uhh, fanfics, or maybe it's just me cheering someone up, or something else I did that left an impression, some people DO see my name and or pfp and think "oh it's that one fella" and that makes me happy. I'm thankful I can be of entertainment and or camaraderie, if you're a person I met on here I can't thank you enough for whatever interactions we may have had (its mainly two people, Mr-Pgeon and SkitSwap, shout out to them), still I have interacted with others.

Sorry if this is nonsensical because my ADHD and emotions are working in unison to make a lot of this rant detached, but my point is: THANKS! I can't fathom the idea people like me and honestly when I made this Tumblr it was during a time when I was genuinely contemplating killing myself (I still contemplate it, just less now). Now of course my IRL friends have gotten me through rough times, shout out to my betas Z and Quartz, however the people I've met online have also helped me. Knowing what I do has left an impact, a positive one at that, makes me happy. Whether it be cheering somebody's art on, having them enjoy one of my fics, or perhaps talking, I'm glad to not have ended myself and I really do wish to keep on going and keep creating so I can hopefully make more people's days in the future. Sorry if this sentimental, I'll probably go back to talking about how I want a variety of cartoon rabbits to bang me soon, but I still just wanna say thanks ❤️.

#rambles from toon #thank you!

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alicia-18 · 3 months ago

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FRIDAY THE 13TH PART IV REVIEW

SPOILERS AHEAD!

Before anyone says anything, I know. I have skipped another movie. But before you call upon Jason himself to turn me into a shish kebab, let me explain.

I am based in England and watch this franchise on Paramount Plus. For some reason which I can only assume is to annoy the fandom, both movies 1 and 3 aren’t on the platform but 2,4,5,6,7, and 8 are. I’m just as baffled as you but as we are broke bitches out here, I can’t afford to rent it currently. I am actually going to borrow the first movie from my sister-in-law’s girlfriend soon so I will post my review of that too!

But with that out of the way, let’s get into my thoughts and opinions on part 4.

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie! I think I might have even enjoyed it more then the second, though I expected as much as I know the fandom view this one and maybe number 7 (?) in high regards. The characters conversations, although still super corny, we’re a lot more realistic sounding then in part 2. Like the way Ted and Jimbo (I’m assuming his name is Jim but all I have in my head is Ted shouting Jimbo) were talking about girls does feel very reminiscent of typical teenage boys, just obviously very 80s.

And the kills were also a lot more interesting typically. You can tell by this movie that they had more of an idea on how to use Jason and his strength, even if at times he still seemed quite goofy. Just seeing the way he killed Doug by squeezing his face until blood poured and then throwing him through the shower glass for the girl to see was so entertaining, as well as the seen with Jimmy getting the corkscrew through the hand. I even appreciated when Trish sliced through Jason’s hand slightly.

This movie also seems to lean slightly more into the goofiness it has. Like when Rob is being killed and he keeps shouting “he’s killing me!” just had me cackling in bed at the unseriousness at it all. The movie had the ability to create suspense whilst still being laughable - in a great way. I’ve stated before I truly do appreciate the cheesiness of older horror and this movie is the epitome of that.

It isn’t a perfect movie though. I find Trish to be a much weaker final girl in comparison to Ginny. Like how she just watched Rob get murdered, went to run away and then went back like she would have been able to stop death? It made such little sense. She also felt pretty useless overall. Because realistically, Tommy is the star of this show. All she does is find a body and scream “he’s here!” When it’s bloody obvious he is by how the front door has been hacked down. She also left Tommy with little choice but to kill Jason himself when he is literally a small child! He has to try fixing the car, he has to stay by himself at the house whilst there’s a masked killer. All that she did successfully was hit Jason when he grabbed Tommy and then distracting him long enough for Tommy to shave his head.

The way they killed off Mrs Jarvis was also jarring because it’s completely offscreen and you don’t actually get any definitive answer to if she is dead. They could have atleast had her body show up in the third act or something similar to that but no. This goes back to my grievance with the second movie surrounding the ambiguity of Paul. I hate not receiving an actual answer and just makes me think they didn’t know what to do with either of their characters so they’ve left it open ended.

All in all, despite my few negatives, I did genuinely really enjoy this movie! I think it has a lot more rewatch-ability then the second too. I’m hoping the fifth part has a couple answers regarding Mrs Jarvis and I hope Tommy does come back because the ending where he looks straight at the camera is chilling!

I also wrote this a couple of days after watching due to my children being crotch goblins and not giving me a second to myself so this isn’t as in depth as the Part 2 review. I’ll try adding more when I review Part 5!

RANKING SO FAR

1) Part IV : The Final Chapter

2) Part II

#friday the 13 game #friday the 13th #the final chapter #jason voorhees #movie review #review #first time watch #horror #horror movies

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kcrabb88 · 2 years ago

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I posted 1,927 times in 2022

That's 165 more posts than 2021!

382 posts created (20%)

1,545 posts reblogged (80%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@pilferingapples

@rosesutherlandwrites

@amarguerite

@thegreatblondebalrogslayer

@kcrabb88

I tagged 1,925 of my posts in 2022

#les mis - 334 posts

#fanart - 320 posts

#gifs - 303 posts

#star wars tag - 231 posts

#kcrabb rambles - 219 posts

#obi-wan kenobi - 198 posts

#pirates tag - 188 posts

#sea tag - 144 posts

#the constellation trilogy - 139 posts

#black sails - 131 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#god i remember casual fans being like oh dominic west was good in this and i'm like he couldn't be because the script did valjean no justice

My Top Posts in 2022:

Les Mis meets Black Sails + Robin Hood in Sailing by Orion’s Star (The Constellation Trilogy, #1), out TODAY!

In the 18th century West Indies, stories hold the ultimate power. Sailors spin yarns about pirates. Newspapers tell tales full of half-truths. Myths spread like whispered wildfire.

East India Company sailor Nicholas Jerome has no patience for pirates, determined to leave his father's thieving past behind. After a convict and an enslaved woman escape his grasp with the aid of an aristocrat's mysterious wife, he faces one last chance to save his career. Finding an unexpected home with a new crew, he gains a chosen younger brother in René Delacroix, the son of his wealthy captain and the grandson of Jamaica's cruel governor.

But there's a storm brewing in the Delacroix household. For René and his best friend Frantz, the Robin Hood tales about legendary pirate Ajani Danso and his famed female quartermaster are a lifeline amidst the governor's abuse. Danso robs greedy merchants, frees slaves, and shelters queer sailors, inspiring the downtrodden across the New World.

When death and betrayal shatter the lives they knew, René and Jerome each face a choice: obey, or rebel.

A war for history's favor begins, and as an uprising against colonialism erupts on the ocean, everyone must choose a story to believe in.

You can order here (paperback or e-book from several retailers) or here (for readers outside the US who want to order a paperback from a non-Amazon retailer).

135 notes - Posted April 26, 2022

Sailing by Orion’s Star Cover Reveal!

I am so EXTREMELY excited to reveal the cover for Sailing by Orion’s Star! This gorgeous artwork was done by the wonderful Abby Gavit, whose work you can check out here. @prosodi

I’ve spent a long time thinking about what this cover would look like, and I honestly could not be more pleased with this. Truly, it is a dream cover. I want to give a special shout out to the Les Mis fandom, who have been with me on this project since its very early days, when I didn’t know what it would be. <3

Sailing by Orion’s Star will release on April 26th!

Also, check out the full wrap cover (and the blurb!) for the print edition. Don’t miss the skull in the clouds!

See the full post

150 notes - Posted February 22, 2022

Do you like Les Mis, Black Sails, Robin Hood tales, queer pirates, found families and epics? Paperback pre-orders for Sailing by Orion’s Star (The Constellation Trilogy, #1) are live! Release is set for 4/26.

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Book Depository (Sometimes if you’re using Chrome the cover doesn’t pop up, so if you don’t see it, it is the right listing and you can still pre-order! The cover has popped up on all other browsers)

Bookshop (US friends, if you haven’t used this website before, you can choose a digital “storefront” for participating indie bookstores, and they will profit off the sale. If you’re near the DC area, I tend to choose Kramer’s or East City Books. And hey, if enough folks buy from particular indies, maybe they’ll consider stocking it in store!)

International friends: you should be able to buy paperbacks from Amazon if it’s available in your country, and Book Depository (above) ships to something like 160 countries (The UK, pretty much all of Europe, some parts of Asia and South America, etc.)

Interested in e-books? I have those too! You can get it on Kindle, Kobo, Nook, and others. (Kobo is easy for international folks!)

Add the book on Goodreads!

Subscribe to my newsletter for fun pirate facts and updates!

For content warnings, check out my website

Book trailer!

240 notes - Posted March 28, 2022

The 2012 Les Mis movie surely has its issues, but god, that transition from Stars to Look Down (Paris) is just *chef’s kiss*

344 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Okay so here’s the thing. If I see one more “who cares about historical accuracy in a historical piece of media” I am truly going to lose my entire mind. I’m not asking for TOTAL accuracy down to the detail (I don’t strive for that, and things should connect with a modern reader) but I AM asking that books and shows and movies ENGAGE WITH THE PERIOD THEY’RE SUPPOSEDLY SET IN. The new Persuasion is just the newest (and one of the most egregious) instances of this, but I’ve seen this sentiment a lot, recently. If you don’t care about historical stuff, then why create or engage with historical media? The goal should not be to “modernize” historical fiction, but to create and engage with more diverse historical media. Different settings and periods! More stories about queer and BIPOC folks! Historical fiction has so so much to offer without stripping it of all historical context. I’m tired.

1,793 notes - Posted July 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #WOW THIS IS ALL SO ON BRAND I'M LAUGHING

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beastblade69 · 4 months ago

Text

// tw in game rape?? mentions

I SO FUCKING MET THIS GUY LMAO, BEFORE FINDING THIS POST ON REDDIT XDD. I've actually visited him for 4 times. for the first time I wanted to speak to him, but Arthur pointed a gun at him and he ran inside of his house and started shouting some gibberish like "you are the perverted one, not me" and "if you don't leave now I'll think you like me". so I became interested in what's going on w this guy and reloaded the game to actually enter his house. then like he invited me in and I knew fpr sure he's gonna attack arthur from behind but I couldn't have done a thing at that point (I actually thought arthur would turn back and defend himself but he didn't lmao). so he hit arthur w a rifle stock before I could've done a thing and arthur blacked out, soon finding himself laying in the bed and the guy telling him that he's gonna take good care of him n calling him a pet 💀💀 and then arthur woke up in the middle of nowhere lacking $150. so I decided to go back and rob the guy back. and while I was robbing his place he actually got away somewhere so I had no way of taking revenge on him so I thought "later" because I knew exactly where the house was. and I came later, tied him up and threw him into the muddy swamp waters. he drowned. should've left him tied up to die of hunger tbh

also I thought it was just a robbery or smth tho it was kinda strange that he actually had arthur in the bed. like ok bro at least I killed the creep

also I kinda don't get the ppl who shoot him right away because AIN'T IT INTERESTING TO LOOK AT WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN NEXT?? I mean it's just a game after all, you can always replay it n shit. so I always find myself in the middle of questionable circumstances in this game

#black.session

0 notes

shadowsndaisies · 2 months ago

Note

Reference: takes place post ep 23 (insecurity) and pre ep 25 (usual suspects)

WC: 1.2k

synopsis: in which artemis nearly makes birdy (violently) sick

main masterlist

codename: nightingale series masterpost

a/n: was thinking about this recently, and came up with the following in like 5 minutes

“Do you have a crush on Wally?” the question comes out blurted.

Your eyes go wide as you turn to look back at the girl behind you.

You’d been working on some escrima drills using your training sticks and a dummy, and had paused for a water break. Artemis had appeared out of no where and while you did not jump, thank you very much, you did startle as you turned to her, one wooden training stick aimed at her neck.

Her eyes seemed equally wide when you met them, and then the question she’d asked you fully registered as your brain finally caught up.

“What? you shrieked, dropping the training stick and your water bottle both onto the table.

“It’s just you and he, you guys are so close. Like so incredibly close, and he’s not really talking to me right now… you know because of the bayou, which I get! Really, I totally deserve it! But like you and he seem to be closer than almost anyone on the team, but you’re also close with everyone so sometimes it’s hard to tell! And I’m like pretty sure it’s you and Rob, but like again you just seem so close with Wally! Or maybe it’s the other way around…” she trails for a second her brow furrowing.

You open your mouth to interrupt, but you’re too slow. Mostly because you’ve never heard her talk so much all at once, and the way she was rambling could be considered cute, you know, if the idea of having a crush on Wally, or even worse, Wally having a crush on you, didn’t make you want to throw up a little.

“Oh my gosh, it all makes sense. Wally has a crush on you, that’s why you’re close with him and Robin. Because you and Rob, well, you’re you and Rob, but like Wally’s fit makes so much more sense, unless you’re like a thruple which, like no judgement-”

“Shut up!” you finally shout.

A thruple?? Really? Is that how the three of you came across?

“First, just no. There is no thruple,” you begin because that really had to be the most concerning thing to tumble from her lips. “Just-” you cut your self off with a shudder, “no.”

Artemis looks hesitant as you speak, and opens her mouth again but nyou hold your hand up, “not done,” you interject.

She nods slowly biting her lip as she keeps quiet.

“That was the first thing, because like, that need’s to be very clear, it’s just no, not happening, not real,” you reiterate and then pause to take a deep breath. “And second, no, I do not have a crush on Wally. Like at all,” you tell her seriously, eyeing her warily.

“It’s okay if you do, you know, I just, you’ve known him a long time-”

She’s back pedaling, you realize, trying to cover from what must’ve been a very vulnerable display for her. Now that you’ve processed was she said, you’ve also become aware of the god awful amount of anxiety she seems to be carrying right now.

“No. Seriously, Artemis, Wally’s like my brother, seriously. The idea of having a crush on him, kinda makes me want to throw up,” you admit, “and to be so incredibly honest, I’m 100% confidant that it’s the same for him, including the throwing up feeling.”

She’s still hesitant.

“You were right about one thing, Me and Rob, we’re us, whatever that might be. But Wally is my best friend, Wally’s his best friend, but that’s it.”

“Okay.”

Is all she offers, but you can feel her uncertainty.

“You very clearly do not believe me, which normally would be a you problem, but this is one of those topics where I need you to understand with complete clarity, also I mean this so respectfully, but if your anxiety and disbelief get any stronger I might be sick,” you tell her with brutal honesty.

Her cheeks turn bright pink, and embarrassment floods your senses. God, what a trifecta, disbelief, anxiety, and embarrassment.

“Roy is my brother in every sense, you know? Dinah adopted me, and Ollie adopted him, and Dinah and Ollie are together, and so we’re siblings. Even when Dianh and Ollie had their ups and downs, we’ve always been able to refer to each other as siblings. Always,” you begin and she nods, though you know she’s a bit lost and whatever point you’re trying to make. “I spent a year in Atlantis, and Kaldur was my first friend who knew all about me, because he knew who I was. He knew me as both the Nightingale, but also as (y/n), and I’d never had a friend like that before. If you were to ask him, I promise he’d tell you I am a close friend, an old friend, and that’s the same answer I would offer. He was, and still is, my first real friend.”

Artemis nods, but you can see the confusion.

“Which leaves me with Wally, and Rob,” you say gently, and you can see the understanding spark in her eyes.

“As established already, and no, I will not be going into more detail, Rob and I…. are Rob and I, and right now that’s all you or anyone else needs to know,” you warn her, and offers a nod.

“Like I said, Wally is my best friend, if only because Kaldur and Roy were that for each other, the two of them being closer in age with each other than they were with me. It doesn’t diminish my relationship with either of them, but it does mean that when Wally and I became friends, it was easy for him to take up that space. Wally who knows me well, and who I know well. I’m not going to act like you’re wrong and say we’re not close, because we are. But it’s purely platonic.”

It’s quiet as Artemis digests all that you’ve said. She takes her time and you can basically see the wheel in her head turning. You on the other hand know exactly everything you need to. Artemis Crock has a big fat crush on Wally West, you smirk at the thought, and bite your tongue when you realize and if I say that out loud, she’ll probably run away.

Finally after minutes that seemed to stretch for hours, she meets your gaze head on, much more composed that she’d been since she accosted you.

“Okay,” is all she offers up, but this time you know she believes in what you’d said.

“Okay,” you offer a smile in return, one she meets slowly. “Great! Now, I’d like to move on from this, and never speak about it again, what do you think?”

“I would really appreciate that,” she confirms.

“Awesome, get changed, and we can spar?” it’s an olive branch on your end, to help ease her back from the brink of bright red embarrassement, which was still simmering in undertones beneath her skin.

“Absolutely,” she agrees.

You offer her another smile and she nods, turning around, but pauses, “thank you,” she adds before quickly walking away.

When she came back, it was as if the conversation had never happened, and you were perfectly happy to act that way too.

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

dc taglist: @grey-water-colors @batarella @loninctzencarat @escapenightmare

cnng taglist: @babymango-writes @smile-more19 @bruiscdlikeviolets @truly-dionysus @farfromjustordinary @sometimeseverythingsucks @dweeb-central @lucy-roo @casedoina @cipheress-to-k-pop @anonomano @seninjakitey @whelmedparker @officiallydarkgeek @midnxghtblue @unini @blackwhiteandshadesofgradient @dontmesswithbeebo @raggedyoldwitch @bouqet-of-gay @duckmylife18 @kendallambrosio @notslaybabes @torchbearerkyle @cynthiarose07 @lolsnacks @mono--moonchild @emo-space-tea @notsostraightweeb @cryingnotcrying @sassyspanishartist @ahyeonah @acceber1313 @onepieceformeplease @whatislifeandhowdoidoit @luvelyxp @lovelyartemisa @evermoore580 @mischiefmanaged71 @cryingnotcrying

I love Robin but is it weird I ship NG(myself) with Wally more than him??? I mean, they’re just so compatible and flirty..Also I literally cannot wait for the Failsafe chapter!! It was my favorite episode and I’m so excited for it!!

oop!

lol, no, but it's easy to see the connection with wally! but it's important to remember flirty is kind of a part Wallys character. But they are super compatible, that's why they're such good friends.

As for failsafe, let's just say it's a bit of a roller coaster. I've already written it, and it's definitely a wild ride, especially for our main girl NG.

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