#everyday im like i wanna draw :] and then i just end up with this thing on the page

[harvestmoth]

more rejuv things but its. its just this guy again, im sorry shes all i can draw

[todayisafridaynight]

i love posting to twitter cause my posts breach containment way easier and that means once in a blue moon sometimes i see shit like people calling daigo and aoki sexy old men and THAT always takes me out forever and always

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 11

Chapter 11: fevered Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, arthur’s mental health is kind of not so good…VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. Huge HUGe Voyeurism bit, arthur being a perv 🤨👀 huge weirdo energy LMAO small mention of wanting death, WC: 7780 Hello snow angels : ) here is chapter 11!!! this chapter will be from arthurs perspective so very exciting 😳 i had a ton of fun just getting nasty with him and writing his fucked up little thoughts 😈 arthur inner monologue was a bit weird at first but im sure ill get better at it by actually attempting to do it LMAO i hope you guys enjoy and pls let me know what you think!!! i wanna thank everyone who has left replies and asks about this series, all of you have been so supportive and amazing, couldnt do it without you guys 🥹🥹💖💖💖 also this ended up way too long so sorry Tags: lots of angst todayyy, no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace.Arthur being rude as always just… low honor arthur as a warning lol - What does it matter if the man who saved your life is a little strange?

It must be dusk falling too soon. Slow deprivation of heat and light; does things to his head, as if that wasn’t half screwed off already. Arthur’s fingers clutch the dusty curtain in front of one of two main windows at the front of his cabin; his eyes swear they can see…something out in the treeline. At first he thought of Pinkertons; to collect that bounty they were on about. Why they would follow him to the ends of the earth for that would be beyond him but Arthur had been known to do stupid things for a big payout. And of course, he hadn’t lived this long without a healthy amount of paranoia. Or what he called caution. Or perhaps Charles should have left his ass at the nearest asylum.

But he can sense that he’s wrong when nothing comes of it. No gunshots, no desperate shoot out for his life. Just the quiet again. In a minute, he’ll look out the window and watch the figure disappear. And he’ll shake his head, rub his calloused fingers over his tired eyes. He drops the curtain, pouring another cup of coffee at the silver percolator in the kitchen. He is not losing his grip; he isn’t. He’d leave that to Dutch. 

It’s gotten worse with the winter; those strange things he sees from time to time. They make him feel more out of place than he already does. As if there’s something wrong with him, wrong with this moment. The frost grows over the windows like mold.

The summer sun kept the darkness from slipping in and leaking into his vision. But that’s long gone, been gone for a month. Shit weather up here, long dragging winters. Summers that were too short for his liking and an autumn that was beautiful but also short lived. The winter is too heavy now to do much of anything but loop out to the stable and back. Not much sightseeing to do, the same shock white landscape to see everyday. 

In spite of how beautiful the mountain is; with its sprawling forest, creeks like liquid glass, the fresh winter air… Arthur finds it arduous to see it. Closing himself inside his cabin is easier. He could go and hunt something, draw the scenery. But was that any better than the fireplace? The comfort and simultaneous unease of staying inside the confines of his new home drag him in opposite directions. And even if his paranoid visions are just residue from another time in his life; he knows there are people who could be still searching, who might remember his face. Bad things had a way of following Arthur wherever he went. 

Even more loathsome is the lack of sunlight. The sun disappears around 4 or 5 and it feels like it was midnight by 6. The windows of his wooden cabin blacken like soot, leaving him tired and groggy. 

Arthur tries to keep himself going with bitterness like always. Coffee, cigarettes, and alcohol. He thinks the lack of light plays with his head. It’s easy to mistake shadows for ghosts, trusting himself was hard as it was. 

Damn snow, cuts to the bone.

The stunning silence surprises him still at these odd moments in the day. Arthur thought that maybe the peace would do him some good. But there was a need that scratched incessantly at the front of his skull. Over and over and over. 

He spent a long time being needed by other people. Dutch made him feel needed at the very least. Like he was part of something that symbolized how free a man could be. And he had devoted every shred of himself to the vision that Dutch had for the world. It was all that mattered to Arthur. His fealty was really all he had to give and so he gave it. 

God, had he felt the fool on the last day he saw him, when Dutch walked away, as if everything Arthur had ever done was nothing to him. Twenty goddamn years of his life. If he was being honest, he knew that his loyalty was wasted before that day but he had waited to see if the man he knew would emerge. If he could kill that gutless rat and show Dutch the truth but he refused, leaving Arthur with nothing to show for it. Helping John, Abigail and Jack to safety was barely a comfort when he thought of all that he wasted. All he did was hand another man a chance at the life that he wanted. 

But it was too late. As always with Arthur. (Everything was always too little; too late) Providing for others was embedded deeply in his being. It was something he had done for years, especially when he decided to get his shit together. He might have dallied, thoroughly enjoying his youth. But he learned (through several extremely painful lessons) why it was important that he pick up the slack. Loyalty isn’t represented by inaction. He hadn’t been all too kind to people but he had kept his comfort that in some part, his work was what kept that camp running. And when that fell apart; he really did try to help the less fortunate.

Really, he was making up for his failures to the people he cared about most. Arthur questioned if he had cared enough. If he did, maybe things would have ended differently between him and the people he harmed by being selfish.

Maybe Dutch put some modicum of power in his hands and Arthur had wielded it badly, went around acting like the cesspool he felt like most of the time. But at the end of the day, the camp ate because of him, they had medicine because of him, hell, they even drank because it was him that brought back more money than anyone else. 

There is no one who needs him now. Arthur scrubs his hand over his face then down to rub over his shoulders. Leans his head back. At first it was nice. The independence. No more debt collecting for Strauss, no more worrying if there’s enough food for Pearson, no more looking out for O’Driscolls. He thought he would like only having one person to worry about; he had been lying to himself. Although he still had other things missing from him. They’re like phantom limbs. He can feel where they were supposed to be but when he looks down they’re gone. Hosea’s guidance was missing from him. Even if he was terrible at following it. The sound of the girl’s giggling and gossiping. Even Uncle and Swanson ambling around, drunker than he thought was possible. Dutch looming, watching through his haze of maduro sweetened smoke. He keeps looking down but they’re gone.  

The fire crackles and the wind howls; picks up the silence. Sometimes the wind from the flue sounds like the breeze over Flat Iron Lake. The fire doesn’t sound any different than it did when it crackled warmly around a circle of a mismatched band of criminals singing songs together, alongside the chatter and the drunken crooning. When it was the background noise to thick Irish blabbering. The poor kid. He was going places, as most of the younger ones were, he and Lenny would have run that gang when they got past their growing pains. He could have told them that when they were living, that sentiment would have meant something then. 

It’s been a year or two, the days sort of connect like train cars and chug along, not because he wants them to but because that’s how life goes. It’s an endless drag, an endless struggle. He can’t see how this is much better than being dead. Arthur Morgan is one of the few people who knows how precious life can be, he spent a lifetime taking it away from people as he pleased. 

He tries to savor this peace (as if he knows how to). Tries to remember what it was like, not having any time to himself, always at Dutch’s beck and call. Barely any time to take a piss, let alone really rest, really give himself room to be anything but what others wanted. How he loathes those memories. The years he spent dedicating himself to another man's dreams. Watched all those years slip away, ashes in a smoke stack, rising forever upwards until they’re forgotten. 

Arthur refuses to recall how many things he gave up for that life; down to the simple pleasures. Love, privacy, a family. He convinced himself that anything else wasn’t living, that he couldn’t ever be tied down. That old life was just… what he had. There was nowhere else to go and when he was old enough to go his own way, there were kids like him with nothing left; nothing to return to, no one to look after them. He might not have been anyone to look up to. Maybe he was a shining example of what not to be. It was Arthur who was there to keep people in line, to show them how to be killers for Dutch’s aspirations. He’s sure he ruined lives more than he taught them anything useful.

Nothing about that life was rooted in anything real, substantial to the world. Pipe dreams. Vague imaginings of living free in the west or some such tropical paradise. What a waste. Just the thought of a secluded island with palm trees on it summons a bitter laugh. 

He sits and watches the fire. Tries to ignore the shadow in the corner. It's thin and wavering. Today, it looks a bit too much like Hosea for his taste. Especially when the log on the hearth cracks, it sounds like that ominous cough that followed the graying conniver everywhere he went. 

Arthur lights another cigarette. He’s been making (quite frankly, just awful) attempts at rationing and this is his allotted second cigarette of the day. He’s two for five. He curses himself every time he forgets to take the drags and it crumbles to ash too quickly, landing on the rug beneath his boots. He hisses, a singe on his fingers snaps him back to the present moment. It burns his fingers when he forgets that he’s holding one entirely, too busy drilling holes in the walls with his eyes. He can’t stand it but he doesn’t have another choice. The silence has the mysterious property of making Arthur lose track of himself. He should have listened but he never learns. 

This deep into winter, not too far from the base of Mt. Pàtu, he can’t just head out on the road and get more cigarettes. The nearest town is a six or seven hour ride and that isn’t happening, not in this weather. He might take Currant out for a light trot so he can get some exercise but he can tell something big is coming soon. The bellows of air from the west have him readying for storm weather. Best to get a move on now if he were to be going out. 

It’s dinner now. He’s not sure where the time went but he doesn’t mind too much. He’s got coffee and he’s got hot food. Salt pork with potatoes, boiled in the salt water from soaking the corns of salt off the meat. He’s gotten better at cooking at least. Arthur scoffs at the thought of the slop he used to be eating. He takes a glass out and sets it on the counter, along with his fifth bottle of Kentucky bourbon. He’s allowed 6 bottles a month. By anyone else’s standards it might be a lot but where he spent most of his time; around other drunkards and degenerates, it’s not enough. 

The storm hits full force now, there’s gonna be snow all the way up to the porch by tomorrow morning. But the air inside of his cabin is still and smoky. From the window, he checks the stable to see if the doors stay closed. It’s well insulated so Currant should be fine. The storm will have scared most of the game into hiding away, he contemplates when he’ll head back out for hunting. He takes a seat at his plain dining table, spends a while on the same glass of bourbon. The smell of cedar and salt is nice.  So is the warmth of his cabin but it’s all lost to him. His sense for how fortunate he is to be here and not dead in a ditch is dull. Only he could be the man to crave chaos and blood and the sound of gunshots while sitting on his ass all day, sipping bourbon. 

He thinks he’ll read a boring book or pretend to keep busy by stoking the fire. Arthur listens to the silence, waiting to hear something but the crackling and the draft from a small crack in the wall. But there’s nothing. He should have listened to Charles. But he insisted that he would be fine. He can’t go back on that now, he’s always been fine by himself. He’ll just wear the groove into his leather chair even further like the sorry bastard he is, trying to ignore how small and stiflingly warm the room feels.  

The blizzard gets louder and louder. Dozing off on the sofa or in his chair sounds like as good a time as any. But he isn’t exhausted, just annoyingly groggy. Bouncing his knee does not count as activity. Neither does all the fidgeting he does, twitching his fingers, putting his legs up and bringing them back down. He tries to pace a little but wearing treads on the floorboards isn’t doing any good either. He puts his hands on his hips. 

 He grabs his journal but he doesn’t have much to write. What would he write about? Surely, the exciting things he experiences everyday. Waking up feeling like hot shit on a platter after having too much whiskey was not the kind of thing worth memorializing in his journal anymore. He’s a little past the shame now too, the embarrassment. He lets his fingers feel the blank page, the tooth of the paper. 

He lets his hand form images of spring, the point of his pencil worn into a dull tip, recollected as best as possible. It’s nothing but a pale comparison. 

There’s a pat on the door. It’s soft and weak. And just as softly, there’s a voice pleading for help, asking if anyone is inside. A light shining in through the cracks of his world. 

He pushes himself up. He knows he hasn’t had that much to drink tonight. The worst possible outcomes play in his head. A ruse from bounty hunters, a local gang taking advantage (not a whole lot better than he would have done only 3 years ago), or another ghost from his past (the ones that play at the corner of his eye). His chest gets a little tight but he’s been good at keeping unease from holding him back. Arthur shakes his hand out, placing the book on the mantle of the fireplace.

“Who’s out there?” It’s an oddity. To hear another voice. One that isn’t his own. It’s a beautiful noise, a pleasing beckon. But he’s no fool. He doesn’t even particularly want to be here, why would anyone be here if they didn’t have to be? He grabs his revolver from the small table next to the entrance, one of the only loaded guns in the house. “Please, sir, I promise it’s just me,” and the earnestness in that voice, he has to believe that promise is true. He has to open the door. With a deep sigh, he stuffs the gun away after a second thought. 

The figure is much too bundled up to gather any immediate details. She’s not very much, standing there out in the cold icy fluff. It isn’t until he nods his head to direct her does she realize she should probably come in. He peeks out at the tracks, just one long line of horse tracks in the process of getting blown over by the harsh wind and the lashing ice. Her struggle up to the porch marked in snow. Arthur scans the tree line for any of those dark silhouettes but they’ve blown away in the wind, they’re pushed from his mind when he turns back and closes the door shut behind the both of them. 

He turns to her, he doesn’t mind the way she shrinks away from his body, skittish and slight. Such a small girl, alone in a snowstorm. He can’t think of a single good reason why she would be going it alone and what she could possibly need more than a night in. She should be warming her hands next to a fire. He could do it for her, could gather them and breathe on them. He tosses that behind him like an empty tin can. He has other things to focus on, mostly trying to get a better look at her and prying an answer out of her as to why she’s out here like this. 

He’s more rude than he intended to be but a little rudeness is nothing new to him. “What the hell were you doin’ out there?” He has been described as coarse. Intentionally and unintentionally. He’s a little bit like a puffed up rooster when he catches her looking him over, marveling at the size of him. But he lets that fall away, surely she needed no old man assuming things on her part. He knows he ain’t much to look at. At his gruff tone, she has no response. The poor thing is so cold, her teeth chatter, whatever she mustered up to yell at him over the storm has run out. Arthur feels a little of his hard veneer chip away. 

He thinks to take her coat, covered in frost and not nearly as insulated as he had hoped, it’s damp with melting ice now that she’s inside. But he feels like he’s dreaming again, peeling her coat off and hanging it on the rack, a faux gentleman. He doesn't know why he’s trying to impress but there’s a chance that she’d like a man like that. So he plays, pretends. He’s surely done that before.

When her coat is shed, all of those visions he’s been having must have caught up to him. 

Jesus, Morgan. You’ve really lost it now. 

This disease of loneliness he’s been given has surely destroyed the vestiges of his sanity. He must be imagining some young soft handed girl with warm bright eyes and vibrant, shiny hair. Face of an angel, looking hopeful; grateful. Her eyes on him burn like hellfire. He feels strange, watching much too close at how her tongue wets her lips; chapped from the cold. Beautiful; she must be someone’s girl, he hopes for a widow who had lost her husband to the winter frost. He’d gladly pick up where the fucker left off. Pry her from his cold hands. Could just be the loneliness talking. He can’t bring himself to care all that much about it. 

Arthur can feel shame eating away at him, like ants at the corners of a scrap fallen off the table. He could have found himself sick to his stomach not too short a time ago. A girl as young as her and he, an old dog with even older tricks have no business together. He knows it too. But he was done with that crushing feeling of dread that ate away at his very soul some days. He had enough of his life to feel awful about. Blood on the floorboards, forgotten promises, disregarded words of affection. Just these moments, where he can hoard the vision that is this girl to himself after so long of giving pieces of himself away. 

What has that shame ever done but made you worse? 

If there isn’t the will to keep his eyes off the girl then there’s the give in him. Like a levy, it cracks a little, breaks into a million pieces of splintered wood for her. It’s been too long since he’s seen something so pretty. All flesh and blood. No graphite on paper; recollections of the women from his past, no Gem of Beauty cigarette card. She carries the smell of soap and perfumed cotton. He thinks it's geranium scented or another delicate flower crushed to pieces to make her smell like she came from heaven too. It’s a weakness he hadn’t culled. 

This girl of his; she must be something quite real. His wishful daydream would have diverted to more intimate topics by now, and he’d probably imagine a woman he’s at least met before. Deciding if he’d prefer her to be real or a misty figment of his imagination; he can’t make heads nor tails of it. Arthur knows he’d probably end up disappointing a real person more than he could offend a figure cooked up in his mind. He sighs. He turns to the iron stove beside the dining table. There’s still coffee and he can distract himself from his ridiculous train of thought by clumsily pouring it out for her. 

Hopeful bastard.

“You mute, girl? Asked you a question.” He knows she isn't but he wants to hear her talk some more. And maybe if she hears what a brute he makes himself out to be most of the time, she’ll turn her nose up at him the way she’s supposed to. Lots of women have, she wouldn’t be the first warned away by his attitude like a bad smell. He could almost let that temptation win. To change who he is at this moment. If only for the selfish purpose of luring her further into his home. However, he’s too impulsive and his tongue is too practiced at offending. He has words that are about as gentle as a fist to the nose. 

He sets her cup down on the table. Arthur doesn’t wait for her to figure herself out, grabbing another cigarette, swiping them off of the coffee table in front of the fireplace. To hell with the rations. It was a special day after all, a goddamned holiday. He strikes the match on the table, lighting it as she tentatively steps forward. Nearly singes his finger on the match he forgot to put out, wincing and waving it out to put out the flame. 

She’s a pearl, surrounded by the ugly oyster that is the less than stellar home he keeps. Carefully, she steps into his space. Suddenly, he’s hyper aware of every thing she could find awful or garish; his hunting trophies or the weapons or the wall. Or the mess of papers on the desk in the corner. It has him gripping his cigarette a bit too tight. Her face hardly moves in any particular reaction, as if used to him already. A simple neutrality is what takes her as she looks at some of the things over the mantle, then her eyes track over the small hallway, leading to the bedroom and some storage. She’s quick to bring her attention back to him, a soft smile that stuns him graces her face, kicking up some long buried hope of his.

 If there was a woman who should be a lady, it’s her. She sets herself down on the sofa, neatly keeping her hands to herself, reaching for the cup he set out for her. But first checking to see if it wasn’t for him with a nervous flick of her eyes up to his own. He can hardly ignore how it pulls at him. She holds the blue speckled cup on her thigh. 

“No, I…was getting something for my granny…” She explains she couldn’t make it to the doctor in the almost fatal weather outside. He has a humorless laugh. How could anyone send her out for the sake of some old hag; already knocking on death's door? Selfless girl but stupid. Defenseless. Her own mother, too. He supposes he can relate. The man he regarded as his father had been the one to let him down the most.

 It’s always the ones you trust. 

He makes his opinion known to her, maybe he can talk some sense into her. 

“I can imagine. 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?” He reprimands her, she might need it. 

Little girl gone out by herself. Needs you, don’t she?

What she probably needs is someone to keep her from doing things that risk her life for nothing at all. Doesn’t have to be him but he won’t turn the thought away. Breaking her open on her marriage bed. Such a pretty thing, a distracted smile into her cup of coffee. Lost in a snow drift because no one cared enough to keep her inside. 

And she does nip back. Trying to give a rebuttal but he won’t have it. He knows he’s right, giving his idea of a light hearted joke, his particular brand of poking humor. Heavy handed as always. 

“Your granny probably already kicked the bucket while you were out here, damn near gettin’ yourself killed.” 

 Perhaps insinuating her grandmother was already dead wasn’t the best attempt at familiarizing her with himself, her face tinges with an expression he’s used to seeing. Dutch said he had a sharper tongue than people thought. Hosea said it was too blunt. 

“And if it weren’t for me, well…” she’d be dead. Forgotten somewhere in the snow with a dead horse for company. Such an image should hopefully be sobering for her. It’s a harsh reality but one he would prevent from happening.  His hand comes up to scratch at his brambly jaw. She probably thought his slightly overgrown beard was ugly and unkempt. His fingers raise the delicate rolled cigarette to his lips. A nice calming drag helps his nerves calm down, they quit jumping under his skin every time her eyes pull over him, over his scarred face and his crooked nose and his gnarled hands. She looks like she holds something back. Her tongue, he thinks. He wished she would have just come out and said it. 

But she’s a polite little thing, stifling herself with another drink of the coffee. The satisfaction on her face and the small droop in her shoulders now that she’s warm makes him smile. 

She speaks up with a tremor stuck to her words. “I’m sorry mister,” her nose scrunches a little, doesn’t even know how darling he finds it. “but I don’t think you gave me your name…” 

In a well practiced motion, he leans and ashes his cigarette. It took him a while to remember that he can’t just ash them on the ground anymore. He had floors and a permanent roof now. He tends to get the hang of things at some point. He kicks his legs up on the table, gently so as to not frighten the girl on his sofa, warming herself by his fire, and drinking his coffee. The thoughts tickle that provider’s instinct so deeply embedded in his being. His name, he almost forgets all about that, looking into her pretty eyes, blinking curiously. Right. 

“Arthur. You married?” He never liked small talk too much. Never one for the surface level bullshit people put on. He watches each of her features form into something like a smile but not. Too nerve-y, falls into something else when she presses her lips together, her brows twitch as they pull together and her fingers scrunch in her gloves. 

As if she’d marry you, ain’t exactly the pick of the litter, are ya?

His fingers twitch, squeeze his short nails into the give of his palm. Then why does she call him? So enticing, then, looking at him with soft eyes, her legs pressed together and slanted. A real proper girl. Cute thing. Naive enough not to recognize someone like him at first glance. He’s something to be avoided. He wishes he could see a ring glittering on her finger, to ward away the seething heat in his head and his gut. Like a prayer muttered in the presence of evil but he doubted it’d be strong enough. 

“No, I’m afraid not,” her voice is like velvet, the rub of a rose petal between his fingers. Her eyes flick away and her teeth press gently into her bottom lip, sweet looking. No man to look after her besides her worthless father, left her out here to freeze. Alone, really. Or she might as well be. The world has been known to be cruel to women. To his mother, to a woman whose life he had ruined, to Mary even, to Susan and Molly. Well, most every woman he knew. It wasn’t fair but many things in their lives were disparagingly slanted away from them, scales always uneven. 

“Young lady like you, unwed and caring for your Ma, Pa, all by yourself?” Arthur scoffs, even as he points out her tragedy. “Now that’s just sad, is what it is,” His fingers push his cigarette into the ash tray a bit too hard, twisting it. And he looks at her blouse, drawing the outline of her with his eyes. He’d put it to paper later. She has a small nod for him. A shining opportunity. But he has to introduce his own dingy reality. The one where he was probably old enough to have been able to hold her when she had just been born. 

“You are… a sight, for an old ugly bastard like me is all,” Honest words slip from him, too loose for him to keep them behind his teeth. The bashful look crosses over her face makes his lip curl up just a little. She deserved to have someone tell her how pretty she is, who wouldn’t ever let her forget for a second how lovely she looked. Where all of these sappy things come from is beyond him. They ooze into his mind anyway.

Delicately, she sets the cup down on the table littered with other cups he had forgotten to put away and empty packages of cigarettes. He rolls his eyes at himself, of course he doesn’t clean up the day he has company.

“I left my horse in the stable out front, I hope you don’t mind,” her hands pet at her thighs, he can see where the fabric is damp. Immediately, his mind clicks into place, thinking on how he can fix it. That’s what the fairer sex truly craved, wasn’t it? Not some puffed up egomaniac. A fixer. A solution. His hands itch to move. To pick up the pieces of her problems and push them back into the shape of something whole. “Ain’t no trouble,” the relieved sag in her shoulders tells him that she actually worried about it. 

So Arthur does, he’s nothing if not a man of action. “Why don’t I get you somethin’ dry to wear? Should be turnin’ in soon. Gettin’ late.” He’s up before he can hear a protest. But she doesn’t give much of one. In his bedroom, his hands swipe his hair backwards. The small mirror he usually keeps around strictly for shaving catches the light of the small oil lamp. 

God, his best years are way behind him. So say the lines at the corners of his eyes, the gouges of his age on his forehead and the delicate webbing of wrinkles under his eyes. All of the evidence of his lifestyle glares back at him. There’s a ruddiness over the higher planes of his cheekbones from burning them under the sun. Some of the fist and knife fights from his youth have left permanent evidence of his misgivings on his face. Mostly in the form of scars and his odd nose. 

You disgust her, don’t go kidding yourself. 

If he ever told her the truth of himself, he’s sure a girl like her would go running, suddenly not minding the cold. He never was good at keeping beautiful things by his side. They rotted or wilted, or blew away with the wind. His rough fingers rub at the back of his neck. He stares deep into his own eyes. Trying to force some normalcy, some sense into himself but it’s all in vain. He grunts, paying mind to other things. 

He opens his cabinet, all of the simple clothes he keeps. Something new and not so weathered, or dirty, something clean. Like her. Some nice cotton knit union suit, something he bought when he was preparing for winter. He grips them tight and hesitates at the door. 

Just go n’ give it to her, and try not to be an idiot; for god’s sake. 

And the sweet smile he sees knocks whatever sense he had gathered out of him, he can hardly form a word. He just holds the fabric out to her like an oaf. And she rises, as to keep things comfortable, good at reading his brutish signaling, taking them gently and skirting around him. And then she’s in his bedroom. With a mental cuss, he realizes that he forgot to clean the room before he left. 

Ah, she’ll find out how pathetic you are at some point. Just a matter a’ when… 

All those empty bottles and habits he’s formed from living alone. Dirty clothes piled somewhere and sheets that probably smelled a bit too much like sweat. Christ. He sighs, pinching his nose. He’s not sure why he’s putting so much thought into this. He doesn’t care. Not a care at all. Right…sure.

At first, he distracts himself with preparing food, his leftovers, hopefully enough for her. Doing this is an action which is perhaps a bit selfish. He wants to make it clear that he can give her things she needs. He could figure out wants later.. Typically, he hadn’t thought too much of what women wanted but with her he makes lists, takes out the fine brandy. Sometimes he took after Dutch more than he would like to admit, the man was all too good at forgetting about a woman’s wants and needs.

The food hasn’t gone too cold. His hands look for things to do, stirring unnecessarily. Fumbling the dish he places it on. However, the little comfort he gains from activity fades. He can only grip the counter like a vice while staring out the window above his sink for so long. The shades of brown and orange that make up his cabin blur into nothing, the wood grain isn’t as grounding as he wants it to be. 

But then his legs drift in the opposite direction, He can hear a soft sigh and the rustle of clothing behind the door. He wets his dry throat. Arthur shouldn’t salivate. He does anyway.

You’re a creep. Something in his head laughs at him. 

Been too long since you had a woman this close to your bed and she ain’t even in it with ya…c’mon. C’mon, just open the damn door. 

His heart is about to pound his ribs into dust. He’s among the worst of the worst but this… pushes boundaries. Lines drawn in the sand. Peeping on women wasn’t something he was raised to do. And if he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see, it was an accident. 

You ain’t that bad.

He’s used to letting the tide wash those out so he can draw new ones. And here is a new one. When his fingers push at the door and he can see the sliver where she bares her own flesh. Rubs her hands up her thighs, stepping out of her clothes. His throat goes dry, his teeth bite bluntly at the tip of his tongue as his jaw gets tense. 

His eyes follow the natural plush curve of her body, pale yellow lamp light glancing off of her. He’d kill a man to touch her and he’d kill a man for touching her. Devouring every inch, his eyes soak it all up, dedicating her to memory. 

 And then she’s stepping into the creamy cotton of his clothes. Doing up the buttons at her front. Unbidden by him, his cock fills out, half hard, pressing uncomfortably at just the sight of her. The perfection of her hips, her hair brushing over her back. 

The guilt is chewing a hole in his conscience. It’s like there are termites gnawing away at the foundation of whatever restraint he had. He’s felt less disgusting after killing a man, making him choke on his own blood as it fills his lungs. But the reward had never been so delightful. A sweet girl, so trusting, putting her hand to her chest and smiling as she realizes he’s there. It doesn’t feel good at all, the realization that he’s drooling over her like a mutt. All she has given him is reluctance, nervous glances. She doesn’t touch him or leave her hand to linger. A sweet-as-cream smile is all he has, enough to tide him over. He wants her anyway, needs her to stay. Letting her walk out after this will be next to impossible. 

“You scared me, Mister…” Mister. So polite, an angel delivered unto him. He can feel how his body is tense, tight like a spring. How she doesn’t notice the evidence of his wrongdoing, pressing at the front of his pants is luck or her naivety. His expression must be dazed, a foolish look because all he can do is stare, unable to stop himself. Observing the way his clothes drape over her, exaggerating how much smaller she is in comparison. How stunning she’d look, sprawled over his bed sheets. Precious girl; struggling not to cry when she gets all stretched out on something wholly too big for her. In his mind's eye, she mouths his name, looks at him like all she wants is him inside of her. Right. His name again. 

He dips back into his own ease in which he controls all of himself with. He is self assured and well handled. And he certainly doesn’t curl in on himself. Lets her see how big he is, slips back into old habits with the ease that comes with capability. “Morgan, Arthur Morgan,” his real name, no Kilgore’s or Calahan’s. She should know it anyhow, if he has any real intention in giving it to her.

It’s dangerous and it’s like she can feel it, somewhere in her body is that base instinct. One she was born with to protect herself from people with bad intentions. But she has another instinct, bares her neck to him. Arthur has always been good at suppressing his hunger, desire for soft pretty things. Settling like sediment on them was the control he had, buried them and buried them and buried them. She's a rainstorm, flooding his mind, washing out his carefully maintained resistance. Leaves his want raw and exposed and actionable. He wants her too much, wants her more than he has any right to. 

He feels what little control he has over his urges begin to slip with that thought.  Usually, he let them take over. Let whatever pain and anguish in him manifest into pure rage, cold and unadulterated. At first, it revolted him, his actions. And the reputation he built to go along with them. But they began to grow over him like a second skin until they encased whatever hope he had for a better life completely. His self induced hatred hid whatever pieces of him weren't supposed to be his to have and to share. The things he had to hide from himself even to feel like a whole person at any given moment. And he let himself be that awful thing people thought he was. Arthur Morgan. A force of nature. 

But he deserved it, didn't he? Everyone should keep their distance anyway. He has a habit of making things worse than when he found them. But all he wanted was for her to be close. Sure, he could play the vulnerable man who could pine after his sweetheart, go out riding after her, guide her home where she would forget all about him. Just a kind man out to help the world.

That's not what he wanted. He wanted her to stay here. Can’t bear the thought of being a good man, sending her away when the storm blows over. In sickness and in health, til’ death do us part. That’s what he sees when he closes his eyes. She’s standing in the kitchen, turning the spoils of his hunts into dinner. With that easy smile. His too empty house just wouldn’t feel like a home without her in it. He’s sick, he knows; but he’s sure she can cure him. 

Arthur Morgan has always wanted more than he could have. He chews on the thought like tobacco. Bitter but eventually he begins to need the taste, to crave it. 

“Put somethin’ on the stove for ya, man can’t leave no woman hungry…” God, his tongue feels too thick in his mouth and his jaw aches from gritting his teeth too hard. And of course, he lays all his cards on the table. Man can’t leave his woman hungry.

Every little gesture she makes, wrapping her arms shyly around herself, the gentle tilt of her head and the small affirmative gesture she makes is in no way unordinary. But they’re all dripping with her appeal. How can she smile at him like he doesn't look the way he does? Like he hasn't made the world worse just by existing in it?

 He soils her just by laying greedy eyes on her neck, on her nipples which he can make out through the fabric of his union suit. And when she opens her mouth, he knows he’ll end up calling her what she is. Sweet and syrupy, soothing on his throat. 

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I really appreciate your kindness,” Arthur is convinced he heard her wrong. But her honesty is in those radiant eyes, in her easy posture. It must be meant to be, it’s not every day a woman talked to him like that. Or talked to him at all. He was perhaps too busy making sure they knew what they would be getting into; dealing with him. 

It may just be the respectful manners instilled in her. He supposed her parents had given her that; mannerisms that made her quite the catch. Utter perfection. But really, even that was a disservice. They damned her to him. Makes him see glimpses of a life he could have. Hundreds of conversations, every iteration of the precious babe they'd have together with his hair and her eyes, a son or a daughter. Two of each perhaps. Hours and hours of her gentle, refined voice taking up the empty room. He bows his head as if he can keep his disbelief and joy under the brim of his hat, currently hanging by his front door. 

She comes nearer. He can smell her cotton scent, can see the way the light casts around her hair, feathering over her, turning it into gold. His body moves to make the smallest space for her. Hoping she’ll nudge against him. He doesn’t even realize the way he’s formed himself to keep her here for just a moment. So close, Arthur nearly loses track of what he was supposed to be doing.  

“Been a long time since somebody called me a kind man, usually it was the opposite,” apprehension floods her body, her features. Her eyes focus on him, waiting for something terrible to happen. Arthur sees how she bristles. He only meant to be honest but she’s already read between his lines. Smart girl. 

He shows her just what he means. Even when he knows better, even if he’s never been this far. It’s like he has to touch though. No where uncomfortable, just to be sure she isn’t a sign that he’s truly gone from this world. 

“Please, I-” 

Her plea goes down his spine. It rakes its teeth over the parts of him that are wrong. That weren’t formed with gentleness, aren’t intricate. Just instinct that he’s indulged. 

He may not be a good man. But he can behave well enough to keep her. Now that he has the room for her. He doesn’t live in a drafty tent. He’s not a dog chained to the hand that fed him too many years ago. He would never treat her like an object to display or a mistake made in a drunken night of pleasure. He wouldn’t throw this away, this one chance at having something real. Wouldn’t lay waste to this opportunity to fill a hole in him that yawned empty for what felt like eternity. She’d be his wife and he; her man. A husband. Mister and Missus Arthur Morgan. A crock of shit, he would have said a month ago.

That ain’t the hand you been dealt and you know it. You’ve made a mess of things enough.

 But now… it's a dreamy reality. It hasn’t quite taken shape but he can get it there. Determination starts to crystallize over the idea. She’s something good; doesn’t need him. He could try to make something better too, could make the best of a situation, try to show her the best in him. But he knows it’d never be enough for her. He always throws these good things away, always ruins it somehow. But he grips and shakes like a mutt at this idea, gnaws it until it's raw. He can just take what he wants. Done that before, hasn’t he?

Just leave’er alone. God, you never learn, goddamned fool…

His fingers graze over the skin on her neck, uncovered by the collar of the union suit he lent her. Here in the dark of the small hallway, he can swear there’s something in the way she breathes, shudders. “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… Lemme show you how a man looks after a girl like you,” He’s aware that he sounds like a right bastard but he’s only telling the truth. His hand settles at her back, like it’s supposed to be there. They’re meant to be, all he has to do is show her. 

ok yall how we feeling LMAO i think his perspective was interesting and fun for me to write but idk if its any good, but i hope with practice ill get more confident 🥹🥹 bro is a freak sooo yeah it was fun to write him as a freak he is very conflicted about everything and he is super weird but also sexy sooo😳 i hope you guys enjoyed this lil backstory on why arthur is a weirdo 😊😊😭😭 lmk what you guys think !!

[drdemonprince]

hi devon! i just wanted to give you some idk words of encouragement about your hand stuff...august 2023 i began having some pretty terrible pain in my hands (like, i couldnt Carry Things pain) and it ended up being (likely) hEDS thats permanently injured my hands. so my baseline these days is much lower... BUT my baseline is MUCH higher than it was in those first days - i can get hours of computer or video game time, i can draw for afew hours, etc. basically it fucking sucks so bad and nobody realizes how devastating it is to lose function in your hands. i remember being so angry and resentful all the time. but im in a much better place now and everyday im doing more stuff i couldnt before so...........basically idk. i hope your shit resolves quicker than mine but it will get better eventually. thanks for all ur writing and posting. youll get used to speech to text, lol

thank you so much. <3 I am glad to hear you have found a big improvement and reduction in pain too. if you wanna share anything that has worked for you i am all ears!

[8igiron]

an ode to the end.

on one hand, house was rightous in his anger. he felt the most steadfast person who had ever entered his life was now choosing to leave, which was a reoccurring theme for every other relationships in his life (his father, stacy, cuddy, etc). wilson was supposed to be the exception, but he was actively choosing less time with house. and that hurt house beyond anything else that had happened to him before. of course he wanted wilson to stay, to choose the rougher path. he'd be in pain, and it would suck, but they would be together. there was a chance for MORE. and house was angry that wilson was choosing no treatment. he felt it was the weaker option. house screams "life is pain! I wake up everyday and im in pain!" he kicks and claws and bats at the notion that life isnt worth living just because it's hard. and then he scrapes "do you know how many times i've thought about ending it?" house has faught this battle, fights it everyday. but "how many times have i wanted to be left alone, and you [wilson] made yourself a nuisance?" house stuck around because of wilson. perhaps not solely, but he was definitely a significant part. so house demanding, conning, pleading, begging for wilson to fight - to stay, just a little longer - only makes sense. house doesn't understand why he isn't worth sticking around for to wilson.

on the other hand, wilson's whole life has been lived in by others. most every decision he has made has been for someone else. when things go wrong he blames himself. he blames himself for danny's disappearance, for amber's death, for house's behavior and the severity of his addiction. he blames himself for the loss of every single one of his patients, and he memorializes that sorrow and regret in his office, directly in sight so he can never forget. but then he's diagnosed, and he cant make sense of it. "why me?" he bitters. "i wish i'd been more like you [house] so then i'd feel like i deserve it." and it sucks! "Of course i dont wanna die!" but now wilson has one final choice. he can be passive in his life once more, waiting patiently until the train reaches its final stop, or he can assume what he claims is dignity. he can stand on his own two feet, making a choice thats about him, and him alone. it is in this last act of his life that wilson is finally able to say "i did something for ME." how cruel for his most personal decision to be his doom. how beautiful for that decision to be his most consequential one.

so, really, they are both right. like always, one will bow, the other will break. this time, though, house yields. there's a clock looming over them now. "how do we start?" they’ve got one more chance to get them right. (i sure hope nothing bad happens immediately after this that would keep them from being together)

•

ANYWAY edit! been slightly more active in regards to posting my own stuff on here in the last few days and I figured I’d continue. Lmk if you wanna be house mutuals! I’d love to talk!! I edit, draw, and write, but I mostly just like to scream about them 😔💔

[tsuki--sora]

helloo i was wondering if u have any tips on how to start learning how to draw?? i’m gonna try it for the nth time and force myself to not give up and since i absolutely LOVE ur art i was hoping you could help me?? thank you in advance and have a happy new year 🥰

omggg i just saw this :O!! i havent been around here so i didnt see :C but anyway!!! im not sure what advice or tips to give tbh so ill just share some things that helped me 🙇

knowing what im drawing (basically...using reference lol ) u might've seen this tip a lot but its true 😆 think of it as like... training wheels on a bike AHSAHSAHHA u use training wheels for some time until u can be good enough to ride a bike without them or something like that.... its the same with using reference. u have to know and get familiar with what an object looks like first before you're able to draw without it and with confidence. tbh i dont always do this bcos sometimes i just wanna mindlessly draw ykno 😔 and thats okay as well!!! just remember that reference is very helpful when u hit a dead end with ur artwork :D also learn from real life!! look around u! sometimes id stare at something and nod in understanding. ----------------------------------

draw what u love <33 honestly, i only got back into drawing when i went down the vtuber hole a few years ago LMAO i would draw vox akuma eveyday 🙂‍↕️ and then my love for one piece got revived so now i draw my favorite characters every chance i can get bcos its all i can think abt!!! its honestly a good motivator. ----------------------------------

accepting and learning from mistakes ive always struggled with perfectionism and that really took my enjoyment and love for creating🥹 and that also stopped me from experimenting and exploring coz id always think that it wont come out as i hoped it would. SOOOO for the past 2-3 years i think?? i make it a habit to STOP ✋ being super critical when i see or make a mistake. the perspective is wrong? noted. the anatomy looks wonky? okay!! i let them exist in my artworks bcos how would i even know where to improve in if i dont know what it is 😅 i also make sure to keep those errors in mind so i know what areas i should be working on. u can always correct them on ur next work!! and the next!! again and again!!! its never-ending! ure always improving, always learning. ---------------------------------

i also have a board of artworks and styles that i really really like and i look at them when i need inspiration hahaha sometimes u just have to scroll thru pinterest for hours and draw nothing lol

personally, i think one doesnt have to draw everyday to be good. i mean, you can if u want to! but u might burn out fast if u force urself to draw everyday. just.. pace yourself. remember to rest and be good to yourself as well :))

thats all i can think of right now. i feel like i could share more but im just not good with words or explaining things. forgive me 😔🙇 our experiences may differ and what helped me may not be of use to u,,, but i hope this can help u even juuuuust a bit :"D be proud of every piece u make. u worked hard on it after all <33

(also sharing my art throughout the years!)

[pink-pearl-plain-jeans]

im srsly begging for the dialogues to be kinda repeatitive bc i kept misclicking and end up skipping the convo and now their Drama and Dragon or something is being led by Snicklefritz 😭

(spoiler?)

i also want drunk march to repeatedly ask me to sit with him and this time im also gonna join him screaminh AWOO on the top of my lung! AWOO WOO WOOOOOO!!!!

whats that abt rock olric? idgi but lets stare at them tgt all day long! can i romance you

holt, hit me with those puns again, hahaaa im giggling man. nora used to be rough on you as a kid and now you're married and you thought she was cute? fucking adorable man. couple goals.

reina, you can make a pie out of me idk what im saying girl but you make it work

barol, no notes.

eiland, just give me the entire cake actually, i was just being shy.

adaline, would you want me to fetch you another weirdly perfect square rock so you can sit on it and think? i'll do it

valen and juniper, i think you guys should kiss.

dell's right terithia, why havent we catch any shark yet? ..you used to sleep with a spear when you're a soldier, and now you use it to catch fish...,? oh.. um wow,, haha

dozy thank you for understanding me when i backed up from taking that bath :'D

henrietta how abt a day care with me? girls sleepover?

hemlock should've been single ngl he's kinda my type.

jo just kept telling me abt me and my pep steps tbh idk what she meant by that ig im happy to see you happy watching me walk

'lo aunty elsie, whats the goss this afternoon

IS ERROL AND THERATHIA HAVE SOMETHING GOING ON BETWEEN THEM WHAT DID I MISS

i dont think caldarus ever say the same thing ever?? literally his dialogue is different everyday, and if i repeat the day, he repeats it too, its not randomized? oh hey, you like the rainfall in autumn? me too brother. i'll sit with you. oh btw i made you a shrine- wanna hug? please please please ple

ryis haha you're so handsome wow. giving you a rock is going above and beyond? let me scour that mines for you. lets work on mistria tgt for the rest of our life. uncle landen, if you will?

yes, hayden, your tiddis huge. now stay still i need to draw them realistic style

celine, original flavor. i got nothing for her except that she loves flowers

idk how to approach maple im not very into roleplay. BG ROYAL DECREE I DECLARE..... that mayhaps she could run mistria one day

BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY i want luc to tell me facts abt bugs AGAIN. like yes. tell me, how that bug's color is blue and who's it trying to impressed? oh you're impressed? yayyyy! bees have 5 eyes? heck yeah, that kinda freaks me out a little but you made it such a fun fact! i mean he's just so wholesome and little oh my god he's just baby

[kxmikomrade]

🍁˖࿐ Artist! S/O - Isagi, Bachira, Reo, Sae

╰┈➤Hcs of them with an Artistic S/O!! Genre: Fluff and crack Gn!reader or Any gender Warnings: Swearing, Not proof read bcs im lazy, idk wat else but lmk if theres anything else Waiter's Note: OH LOOK WHO FINALLY PULLED THIS OUTTA THEIR DRAFTS AFTER A WHOLE ASS 5 MONTHS LMAOO I HOPE U GUYS ENJOY <33 Reqs Open as usual!! Masterlists

Now Playing: An Art Gallery Could Never Be As Unique As You

Very VERY VERYYYY fascinated on what you do, he thinks it's really cool

He canonly likes art too so let him join in!!

Draw him in any way like even a small doodle and he WILL COMBUST

He decorated his wall infront of his desk with your drawings and doodles, other things like custom keychains, origami, glass paintings are on his desk so he can see it everyday when he wakes up 🥹🥹

Study dates with you two often end up in drawing-cuddling sessions

Starting with studying so you can both pass your exams to you two beside eachother, legs tangled under the kotatsu table while you both lay on your stomachs, drawing whatever you felt like drawing 🫶

Let's just hope that you both pass your exams 😭😭

When you have art block or you feel stressed, he offers to take you out to a walk (yk he loves those esp with you)

It may seem kinda annoying at first but trust me, it does WONDERS

YOUR WORKS ARE DISPLAYED THROUGHOUT THE ISAGI HOUSEHOLD ✨

His parents like your creations too but they ALWAYS remind you whenever you come over that it's okay to take breaks and do other things 🥹💖

He's not rich by all means, but he's willing to spend his money to get you supplies u want

When he got the letter for blue lock, you both agreed to meet at a park at night and you talked things through, promising to work hard and improve while you both are separated

Whenever the topic of art or s/o comes in, he just ends up talking everyones ear off in blue lock and the question was just from a truth or dare game😭

Whether or not you got recognized for your art and got more commissions/promotions or quit art to start something new that interests you, he's supportive just as you are for him 🫶

HE LOVES ART, AND YOUR AN ARTIST?? MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN

Introduces you to his mom <33 you both share tips and tricks and now she's like your teacher ITS SO CUTE

But Meguru gets pretty pouty if you just sit there beside his mom talking about art related things all day 😭

If you let him lay down on your lap and give him occasional kisses then he'll be able to sit still for a while longer

You gave him a bee-themed soccer ball you painted once and he ALWAYS has it on his bed so he can fall asleep hugging it 🥹

He doesn't play with it tho, atleast not outdoors bcs he doesn't wanna ruin it 😭💖

Painting with him and his mom if she isn't busy!!

He always plays around and puts paint on your face, his mom scolds him for it LMAOO

Don't take him to art museums pls 😭😭 HAVE YOU SEEN HOW HE WAS IN THE LIGHT NOVEL?? you both would get in trouble just because he was bored 💀

BRAGS TO EVERYONE AND ANYONE IN BLUE LOCK ABOUT YOU THAT THEY LITERALLY KNOW YOU AND EVERY SINGLE ART PIECE YOU HAVE DONE BEFORE EVEN MEETING YOU OR SEEING THEM 💀💀😭

Has tried to eat paint before 🧍‍♂️Much worse if you paint food then bro might try it again 💀💀💀

You sit on a bench nearby and draw while he practices, it's relaxing, just watch out for the ball 😭💀

Oh boy

Id say for a FACT that you were broke until you started dating him unless you have really cheap materials or you're just really good at saving

Yk how art materials and art school is so ridiculously expensive?? Well, your LOVELY boyfriend here has it all covered

Mans literally already bought a whole art shop 💀

Its not like it's anything new *looks at art big art studio*

PLEASE get a frying pan and smack some sense into this man's head bcs he was just about to buy his way into getting your art showcased in an art gallery/convention

He might, MIGHT stop if you use his own words against him. Like the whole 'i want to carve my own future' thing

Lets be fr, he won't stop, the most he could do is stop bribing his way to get your art showcased

Bby supports you alot tho :((

He just admires how much effort you're able to put in each work

When art block kicks in, he'll take you to go to expensive art galleries or to wherever the Mona Lisa is currently being showcased at

Just drag him out and tell him u wanna learn soccer 😭 it's honestly more fun than roaming around an art gallery

Paint him with his parents and they'll already start planning your marriage 💀😭

Bro when collage comes along, then your tuition fees and apartment bills are already paid like??? I wonder how 🤔

PLS DRAW HIM AND SHOW HIM THAT THERE ARE OTHER WAYS TO EXPRESS LOVE OTHER THAN MONEY SPENDING BCS HE'LL ACTUALLY UNDERSTAND WITH ALL THE TIME, EFFORT AND SKILL YOU PUT IN

He DEFINITELY frames all the drawings/paintings you give him. No buts

Let's be fr, he probably has a room in his house filled with your creations 🧍‍♂️

I'm pretty sure that blue lock allows anything to be brought unless it's a phone or something (because they'll have to earn it back) so Reo brought this photo album/journal decorated by you and/or your drawings

AND YK THOSE MINI PRINTERS??? HE BROUGHT ONE TOO SO WHENEVER YOU SEND A NEW ARTWORK, HE PRINTS IT 😭😭

Talks Nagi's ear off every time 💀

Supportive bank in general 👍 jkjk pls don't use him just for money or I will come for your eyeballs 🤗

Sae is pretty chill compared to his hardcore emo brother like did you see that one panel where he wanted to go home in the middle of a game while applying lotion???

He doesn't seem like the type to check social media often too so I hc that he draws after practices when he gets home to cool down for the night yk

I can definitely see him drawing his favorite characters from Chibi Maruko-chan whenever he feels stressed or has a bad day because of his stupid teammates who play like headless chickens 🙄(his words not mine)

So like when YOU came in, it's like he's surrounded by comfort when you two draw in silence while listening to your shared playlist 🌼

drawing fanarts for him that you wanna show off to everyone since he's beautiful and he's even more beautiful in your artstyle <33

he doesnt know about it tho because thats too embarrassing

rin follows you on that account with his private acc LMAOOOOOO

LISTEN. IMAGINE DRAWING HIM WITH HIS YEE YEE LOOKIN ASS BANGS AND TEASING HIM ABOUT IT HAHAHSHAHA

you secretly sent one to Rin for funsies once and he sent you a pic of Sae when he was young back, now you both have this sketchy deal thing going on that Sae doesnt know SHIT about

dw tho, both your mouths are sealed because now you got Rin to approve of you

If you live with him abroad, then your apartment/house is FILLED with notes/drawings/sketches/paintings/origamis, etc. im not exaggerating at ALL.

Imagine those cute and decorated fridges but make it the ENTIRE house

You both just slap some sticky note on walls, tables, chairs, cabinets, shelves, counters and draw on it,and neither of you clean them up, you just leave it there 😭😭

it comes off when it comes off ig 🤷

If you dont live with him abroad, then you guys have a minecraft server you both share thats literally FILLED with builds. Somehow, Sae's RIDICULOUSLY fast at learning these things and now hes an architect 🧍‍♂️

Also those cooperative drawing websites/games?? yeah, you both have them OFTEN, like, every night other than when hes like SUPER tired

just stick to screenshoting him and drawing on his face

He buys you anything you need/want too and theres basically no stopping him 🤷🤷

Tagging: @inariezaki

[1341 words]

[yourtamaki]

HI SUNNY IM HERE TO BOTHER U ABOUT BLEACH AGAIN :333 ...... do u perhaps have thots about urahara..... whats he like whats he into what kind of man is he....... ur beautiful mind never disappoints me

HIIIII i’m always down to yap about bleach 🫡 LEMME TELL YOU ABOUT URAHARA

i genuinely think this man was the blueprint for gojo (or just the blueprint in general for the goofy powerful sensei trope) so some of gojo's characterization can fit with him BUT what makes urahara stand apart imo is his intelligence and manipulation. he’s soo good at reading people and understanding their wants and motivations and he hides how calculated he can be behind his easy-going attitude. there are a couple of points in the story where he deliberately manipulated the main characters by doing and saying whatever he needs to get them to do what he wants (he has apologized before and come clean about it after the fact but not always.) urahara is always looking waaaaay into the future and taking whatever steps he needs to take to get there. he does have limits though. he knows when he’s going too far and everything he does is generally for the greater good not just his own personal agenda. very much the embodiment of “the ends justify the means.”

SOOO if we take that and try to guess how he would be in a romantic relationship i think urahara kinda clocks it immediately when you start to feel attracted to him and even worse he knows the second that that initial attraction turns into genuine feelings. i think it could go either way from there depending on what he wants from you. if he’s down for a fling but nothing more i don’t think he’ll change much about himself and if you end up in his bed then it happens. he’s not going to use your feelings against you to get you to sleep with him when he knows he doesn’t want the same thing you do but he’s also not going to stop anything from happening like some moral knight. he’s of the opinion that you’re an adult with your own will and if you wanna have some fun then he’s more than happy to give it to you. (munch enthusiast btw this man eats pussy from the back)

BUUUUT if urahara does want to be in a relationship with you i think everyday is a struggle for him. because he knows. he knows all the words he could whisper in your ear to make you his. it’d be so easy too. a couple of promises about how he won’t treat you the way others have, soothing insecurities you never even told him about, giving you the attention you obviously crave from him. he daydreams about different scenarios he could weave for you, maybe dangerous maybe just humiliating, that he could then rescue you from so that you see him as your saviour. he could have you so easily but he won’t do a thing because he thinks you deserve a genuine love, a true love. so he’ll draw that line for himself and change exactly nothing about how he interacts with you.

it sucks for you in both situations cause you can't tell how this man feels for you at all. you get surface level flirting and some touchiness and that’s it. if you two do end up in a relationship, you’re the one who’s gonna have to initiate a lot of it and do a lot of the heavy lifting at first. it’s only when urahara is sure that the relationship was organic and he can look himself in the mirror and be sure that he didn't manipulate you into being with him that you get his full authentic self.

anyway i love him here are some manga panels that itch my brain

[whotfletamothhyperfx]

Venting

TLDR: I’m not gonna be posting for a while sorry

I don’t know how much longer it’s gonna be until I have a total and utter meltdown/ breakdown whatever the worst one is cause it’s gonna happen soon. I just can’t deal with all this shit put onto me anymore, I already have enough to worry about with my exams but now I’ve got to worry about the fact I’m criminally underweight to the point that my shoulder blade got caught on my ribs and now Im in pain everyday of my life, I’ve got to deal with the fact my parents are having to pay for a private doctor that costs them hundreds per meetings. There’s a chance this might be permanent if I have it too long and I have no idea what to do if it’s already permanent, I’ll have chronic pain for the rest of my life. I can’t hold my arms above my head for even a minute without being exhausted,

I’ve got to deal with fact I’m pretty sure I’m depressed I just can’t feel anything anymore, and whenever I do feel stuff I’m sad or angry and I just can’t feel happy anymore. Every-time I do feel the slightest bit happy something comes and tears it away in literally minutes. Sleeping is all I do and eating makes me feel sick.

I can’t even let myself enjoy the things I do have because everything comes with the slightest bit of guilt. I buy books and I’m so tired I can’t pick them up. I buy games and I can’t leave my bed anymore. I can’t do a single thing without feeling guilty. I have to get my breakfasts carried to my room or I won’t eat until dinner and even then that’s all I eat. My parents are having to put protein powder like the things athletes take or I’m gonna end up more hurt. It’s never been this bad before.

I don’t have a single good thing happening in my life but still I’m forcing myself to act happy around people and I don’t even know why, I literally deleted this before because i thought it might be “too depressing” to post but ya know what? It’s my blog if I wanna scream to the void then it’s my void to scream into ya know? It’s funny that this is genuinly the only place I have to go. I can’t go to my parents, I can’t go to my friends. I don’t even know if I have friends anymore. I’m pretty sure my best friend is mad at me but I’m giving her space so I hope she isn’t mad at me

I love my parents, they’re trying so hard and I know they love me but god every time they talk to me it feels like something they say always ends up making me feel worse and I don’t even know why. Most of the time it’s just harmless jokes I spend the next weeks thinking of.

I’m so tired of just dealing with everything, I’ve not left my bed in weeks, my rooms a mess, I can’t eat and now I only sleep and draw. It’s all I do and I’m so stressed and tired and I just want to scream at someone and the notes app is getting to full of my angry thoughts so this is just me kinda hoping it’ll give me a rest. I’m really fucking tired.

So yeah if you read this far I probably won’t post for a while, I don’t have the energy.

[cubtales]

🎁 ˶˙ᵕ˙ )ﾉ hello helllooooo dearest xixi !!! hopefully it’s okay if i drop by to leave a few words with you 🥹🤍 i have some thoughts /very pos !!! can i firstly say that i adore argenti with you because i always imagine how proud he is when he tells people about meeting someone like you — a lovely heart… draw droppingly beautiful both inside and out !!!! ??? the list goes on!!! im sure he could put this into words much better than i can — but oh, you two are so precious !!! i think about femi’s art of you two all the time and swoon because 🥹 how lovely … how peaceful .. how romantic .. how comforting … ausndjk okay but i had intended this to be towards you, so i will save my argenxi yapping for another ask sometime! :] ( though i always feel so guilty when he is the final boss of something in game !!! i have to attack xixi’s beloved ?! T T i will turn away !! NO. ACTUALLY — I’D RATHER LOSE!!! ) OKAY OKAY. i know you have been swamped with things lately ): yet i saw your reminder that you love and are thinking about your moots and i just !!!! )): xixi !!! )): you are so full of love!! even with such a busy schedule, you make time to remind your friends of this and it’s so endearing to me urgh ); i wish i could somehow convey how much i adore your presence on here, but it always ends up as some kind of weird babbling ( -> ISNSJDKKDS I LOVE YOU type of responses… ) so instead, i will sit here and VERY intensely wish for you to have an amazing rest of your year !! YOU ARE SO LOVED … SOOOO SOOO LOVED . 🤍

EVIE ! ! ! ♡ sorry this took a while tew respond ! i'm tearing up just reading this for the tenth time :c hope my response is coherent ehe

first of all thank you soooo much, like so so so much for even writing all this my love. to know that's what you think about argenti and i is just sooo sweet (՞⸝⸝o̴̶̷̥᷅ ⌑ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝՞) it's just lovely to know that's you adore us and we are precious to you ! ! it just feels me with so much joy :c ( + fightin' my beloved during simluni always has me clenching my chest cause i just wanna admire him and his attacks !/!/!/ unless he one shots me TT )

thank you my love ! ! i can't help being busy as bee unfortunately but i want to atleast be able to appreciate and do my best to support and adore you guys the best that i can ! i still feel like what i do isn't enough so i wanna do it ten fold ! ! *(⑉･̆༥･̆⑉)｡ so if you don't mind ! allow me to convey how i feel about you ♡

evie my dear, you're the sun's equivalent on this app to me. your kindness and generosity to all your mutuals shines brightly even to those who were able to admire you from afar. your presence on here is one that cannot be replaced, being able to call you a friend is just being lucky on another level. honestly, you do so much. just by your adorable comments or loving reblogs or sweet messages like these you give me and many others !? i can only appreciate it all soooo much, seeing you on the dash will always light up my day cause of how sunny you are ! i love you immensely, and so does moze ! ( not as much as me tho ! ! mwheehehe ) speaking of you two hehe, you guys r just so perfect. it's as if he's your moon, shining with undying love whenever it comes to you ! the more i learn about you two i can't help gushing and squealing because hello ?!?! soulmates ?!?!? yes yes yes ! will be peeping by for moevie crumbs plssss >:) all in all, i love you sooo much evie, you will always be loved ! ! all i can wish for is that you find something to smile about each and everyday ! hehe ♡

[ofmermaidstories]

You mentioned loving those "what's in my bag/what's on my nightstand" videos. I was just wondering… would you ever consider doing something like that for the Y/Ns? 🥺 I love the way you draw/describe everyday objects, and I think it'd be so cute!

i do love those “what’s in my bag” type posts/videos. 👀 it’s bc im nosey and easily influenced LOL, i wanna know what you’ve got in your bag and why it’s there and whether or not it has any correlation to what’s been keeping u up at night. 👀

but!!! YES i wanna play this game!!!! omg i know it’s taken me an age to answer but i have poured over the list i made for this—i window shopped, asked other people what they thought, cross referenced my own writing so now we are PREPARED!!

i consider this a part 2 to how i envision the Y/Ns in the in another life verse dressing. and just like part one, this one is under a cut—so that the friends we have among us who don’t want their vision of Y/N spoilt by my subjective taste in objects ruined don’t have to see it!

weedsie-woo would favour bags that can carry a lot; a heavy waterbottle, one of haru’s toys, the little pouch packed with like, band-aids and face-mist and hand cream and lip balm. then you’d have things like the crumpled empty pack of hero chips (that’s haru’s), a wallet, a coin-purse, and obviously the all-important phone. the pocket knife from katsuki. the little pouch that holds weed’s hearing aid (and a spare battery, just in case).

scribbles would grab whatever’s near. 💀 whatever bag ends up being used, it’s always crammed full of shit—a pencil case, filled with coloured pencils and fountain pens and ink and watercolour paints—paint markers, mechanical pencils, erasers. the journal that scribbles takes with them, everywhere. headphones and a tin of breath mints and a small makeup pouch with like, idk, lip gloss and concealer, mascara. there’s a bottle of perfume in there somewhere and a mask and a wallet, scribble’s phone (although that mostly lives in scribble’s hand). it’s not uncommon for scribbles to lug magazines to the studio—for reference.

both Y/Ns would swap things, interchangeably. weeds might buy a new magazine, or a manga volume and take it to work—scribbles might take a drink bottle from a convenience store. both of them might use a flimsy tote bag one day, then the next scribbles might arrive to work with a fine leather handbag. weeds might take some florist wire or tape home and then take it back to the shop a few days later. it’s just—stuff like that! there’s gum in weed’s bag one day, some tiny gachapon toy in scribbles’ the next. maybe it pours rain in weed’s part of town, so there’s a little compact umbrella shoved into the tote, while scribble’s side of the city is dry as a bone so there’s a cap in scribb’s instead. on and on and on forever, as they go about their lives and their days. 😌

[rottytops]

squid thoughts after finalfest...

readmore bc i dont think anyone cares or even knows who runs this blog anymore but anyways

squids huh...........i have such a weird and intimate relationship with splatoon, i was SO into it when s1 came out i literally wouldnt shut up about it, i was on fucking. SQUIDBOARDS everyday pre-release sucking up all the info i could on splats, and i played it to absolute death too. at the end of s1 for final fest i was in a really weird housing situation bc i was leaving college and my like 2 month lease at my apartment i couldnt afford was running out, but i dont think i had a tv or something? so i had to use the apartment's like...public office room to play that final fest at like 2AM (i was team marie of course)

then splat 2 happened and i think splatoon was like, my entire life for several years no joke. i fell into a big splatoon community, got really into making splatoon art and OCs, had tons of splat friends, it was kind of a whirlwind. splatoon was the launching pad i used to get into freelancing commissions which is really funny in retrospect because i could not and still cannot figure out how to draw the inkling mask to save my life.

those were really really fun days and i still consider 2 the peak of my interest in the series as well as my favorite splat game + idol group, the good days in my splat fanbse didnt last forever though since my mental health and the difficulties of freelancing ate me alive in a way that im only just now recovering from, but that doesnt tarnish the memory or anyhting, the friends i made during s2's run are some of the closest ive ever had and im still with them even today, so i guess in a way splatoon 2 affected my life in a way only comparable to like...the disgaea series which is REALLY SAYING SOMETHING

but that brings me to 3 which is definitely when i fell off of the splat boat and wanted to move on. to be honest a lot of drama happened post 2's end that made me not wanna look at splat 3 at all but of course i caved and bough it anddddddd barely even played it, lol...i missed a ton of the catalog battle pass things and didnt feel the need to play that much, i didnt even get side order until like 2 months ago... it makes me sad to think that something so important to me is just not quite for me anymore, even if i love it dearly, part of that i think is just ive accepted im REALLY BAD AT SHOOTERS no matter what. a million hours in 1 and 2 and my aim is still super bad, i was able to get all X rank in S2 but in S3 i can barely land my shots or use my brella and had to swap to the 52 gal...its embarassing! i think id get really into a splatoon RPG or something, so maybe they just need to make a splatoon spinoff for me to get absurdly hooked to it but for now im pretty content closing a book on playing the games

but man, final fest made me realize how much splatoon has done for me over the years, i think ill always adore the world and its characters, even if i dont keep up with the games very much. im a little miffed team past won beecase even if i love the squid sisters, i reaaaally dont wanna see them doing more idol stuff. let those bitches retire!!! theyre like 30 now and still doing the same songs and outfits they wore nearly 10 years ago!! aauuhg, though i guess me caring so much about virtual squid idols shows how much the series still means to me...

i dont have any closing thoughts and i dont think anyone read this far either but it does feel very nice to word vomit on my blog which i. do not do. anymore. for some reason..

i love splatoon a lot i think, maybe i should just draw squids without playing the games...i think ill do that...

[seiwas]

sel I wanna hear the deets of how u and ur bf developed feelings!!!!

niku!! 🥺 welcome to the sleepover!! ✨ omg thank u for asking 🥹 im surprised i haven't told you yet tbh but!!! here goes!!!

let's have a sleepover!! 💗 send me any questions/stories you wanna share!!!

the summer before our senior year of hs we attended this extra study thing to prep us for college admissions!! at this point we were really good friends!! went to junior prom together and everything!! and we were talking almost everyday, but it was rlly just friends!! we didn't coordinate the schedule or anything bc we were both busy with our own stuff apart from the classes but we literally ended up being classmates 😭 like out of all the timeslots we coincidentally ended up in the same one & we were seatmates too!!

the teachers in those classes would tease us a lot cos we sat together in the corner at the front, i'd draw random doodles on his book for him to find later on 😭, and he and his family would drop me home every time they came to fetch him!! because i lived really nearby.

i developed feelings for him that summer, but honestly i think i was denying it for a long time and just admitted it to myself then 😭 a lot of girls found him cute (i did too, when i first met him! but didn't entertain it then bc i had a thing with another guy for a bit (who i'm also still friends with today omg this is another story...)) but!! bc lots of girls were trying to talk to him, i wanted to make sure that i was talking to him out of genuine intent of wanting to be his friend!!

anyway! so i developed feelings the summer before our senior year of hs and tried so hard to make it go away because i didn't want to ruin the friendship 😭 so we spent that year getting closer, talking everyday, going out just the two of us, doing each other's snapchat streaks if the other would be away (if you know that omg) + we were eachother's top snapchat streaks lmao and i thought i was over it!! until i found out that he was considering college abroad.

honestly i think my heart sunk a bit, but also! it was kind of the closure i needed? like. i was set on letting my feelings die along with him leaving for college, y'know? and we could still be friends. but we got together before the year ended so i guess! no need for feelings to die? (then we did ldr for 4 years!)

whenever i ask him how his feelings developed, he can never give me an answer!! but his brother told me recently that i was the only one he was chatting with constantly back then 😭 like he was notoriously bad at replying, as in 2 days delayed shdbfhgs but his brother said that he'd leave others on delivered and just talk to me (still delayed... like a day but HAHAHA better than nothing!!!) & whenever i ask my bf what caused the shift from just friendship to smth more, he always says it's bc he felt & saw a love/care that was different with me (?), like... one that he wouldn't be able to find anywhere else? (sounds sooooo funny now when you think about it, him at 18 thinking that when he's literally never been romantic ever but! maybe he was onto smth bc we're here now 5 years later...)

[lesb0tron69]

hi renren beloved you prob waited forever for this (& im sorry love eid & shit got in a way also no im not doing this bcs you asked more specifically i had a shit week & i need to do something to make me feel better)

this is prob not gonna sound like a love letter (LOONATEEN REFERENCE) but ill try anyways

its nearly a year since we’re together,,, crazy feels like ive known you forever. sometimes it feels like the only thing i really looked forward to when opening my phone is seeing your msgs / tweets & it feels really silly just laughing at it in public / private wherever. i love you so much do u know that, youre my motivation in life in trying to be a good person or hating myself lesser (prob how i survive finals week). this sounds cliche but i always think about how nice would it be if its just the 2 of us in this world or i could get rid of every bad thing that ever existed in your life (your mom ahem). maybe i should pick up drawing or print a pic of u & put it on a cardholder stand acting like youre a kpop idol just so i could live the next day in peace. one day we should meet. we NEED to meet & we’re gonna go on a date so out of my budget ill prob be broke the next day. i wanna live & be with you forever if its possible. i wanna see you smile everyday & itll just be all i ever wanted. i wanna make you proud when i got to live out my dreams. sorry if this sounds all too cliche & ooc but i had to get it off my chest. well to end it off i know you thought that i dont love you as much but i just wanna let you know the only reason i could be here right now was for you & waking up to a text from you. anyway i love you so much maybe after this tweet ill die of happiness perhaps.

p.s. what if we send each other long ass tumblr blogs & pretend this is some 1890s love letter & we’re both girls okay erh erm

[finalset]

also just a general update: I’ve been sketching on and off, here and there, etc. I really just haven’t felt it in me to get into some larger works like I used to. I’m trying not to put a lot of pressure on myself in that regard and kind of just live a bit atm! I’m still getting used to what a more productive fulfilling life looks like for me since my stay at inpatient and I’m learning everyday how thorough this process really is. I feel very grateful for where I’m at right now and couldn’t ever have pictured the contentment I have with life currently so I’m just trying to stay in the moment and be more present and stay patient with myself. That’s meant stuff like my artwork and some projects I wanted to work on aren’t a priority right now. I’m trying to find a good balance and flow so I can get back to it peacefully, as I still do miss drawing so much. Right now just trying to stay in recovery is the most important thing to me, a big fear of mine is slipping back so im just trying to take extra care of that, especially since I had a rough ish two weeks toward the end of september. Despite that everything is going very well though! Just wanna keep that up and slowly integrate other things I’m working on for myself back into the mix. That’s about it right now, thanks for sticking around I appreciate your patience and support