#i have some stuff in my inbox i WILL get to answering them all I promise

[shaymincafe]

Ask Karma

Okay so since we're dispensing advice into the community for our newer members, I thought I'd throw my hat into the ring with an ask blog etiquette item that I think people have somewhat neglected recently: ask karma.

Ask karma is the practice of sending asks back to people who have sent you one. When someone sends you an ask, it is generally expected that you will send one back in return. It is to your mutual benefit to do this since now not only do both of you have asks in your inbox to work with, but it also exposes your blogs to each others' followers and can potentially gain you new readers.

Ask Calls are a Two-Way Street

Generally speaking, when someone makes an ask call, you should view it as a quid pro quo situation. Unless the person explicitly states in the post otherwise, they usually wants asks back in return for the ones they're sending out. While this is not always the case, like with me where I have way too many asks already and don't need more, more often than not, this is the expectation and it's bad form to not do so.

It's the equivalent of borrowing someone's pencil in school and never giving it back. At the end of the day, it's not super consequential, but the person whose pencil you just took isn't going to be super happy that they gave that to you and got nothing in return. You feel me?

This is especially true for written blogs, who I have noticed tend to get hit by this the most. Written blogs can get through their posts a lot faster than most art blogs and therefore need asks more often. But they also tend to get a lot fewer asks!

I experienced it myself during the PokeAskMagi event where I sent out around 20 asks from @askthewhiterocket and got back 7 in total for the entire event. By comparison, Shaymin Cafe also sent out around 20 asks and got approximately 12 in return. Not a lot more but it's still a better ROI especially consider Shaymin Cafe was the far less active of the two blogs during the event.

Everyone who sent an ask to Ask the White Rocket also sent one to Shaymin Cafe, despite the majority of the blogs I interacted with getting asks from BOTH of my blogs. In addition, during my final ask call for Ask the White Rocket, I got 1 ask in return for like 5 sent out, even after explicitly stating that the inbox was empty and I wanted asks.

I realize Shaymin Cafe is a popular blog and since I had two blogs, people probably ended up just sending an ask to the more popular blog of the two since Shaymes is a fun character and such. But the same thing happened last year when Shaymes wasn't even an active character and I was really only answering asks from Kyo's blog. To be quite frank, that's unfair to the written blogs, and unfair to me too.

It takes time to send asks. Ask hints make it easier, sure, but not everyone has them. Additionally, not all ask hints are incredibly straight forward. Some require you to read a bit in the blog's backlog if you aren't familiar with it to craft an ask that a person can work with (this is why I tend to link stuff with my ask hints). Some people might also want to double check the rules of a blog first or read up on the characters to ensure they're not sending a human character to a blog that doesn't allow them, or a Gengar to a character with trauma from ghost-types without expressed permission from the creator first. This goes doubly so when you're sending asks out from multiple blogs, like I was during the event.

That effort should not go unrewarded, so the least you can do is send an ask in return! It's just good manners.

This also goes for Munday asks

Admittedly, I am pretty bad about this myself, so we're going a little pot calling kettle black, BUT it's generally good form to also send Munday asks back to people who send them to you. Now if they're not open to Munday asks or w/e then no sweat it's fine, but let's be real, we all like to yap. We all like to talk about our characters. We all enjoy answering Munday asks, so spread the love and send asks back to people who send them to you.

Part of the reason I don't really make the effort to send out Munday asks much anymore and part of why I don't open for Munday as frequently either is candidly I got very tired of sending out like a dozen Munday asks to everyone I saw open for Mundays and then getting like... 2 in return. There were a couple weeks back in like July-August were I quite literally got 0 Munday asks, and it was incredibly disheartening. Like, don't get me wrong, I enjoyed coming up with questions for other people, but it was also a total downer to sit there the entire day waiting for asks to come in and then never getting any. Not even one asking how my day was or how my weekend went. Total and complete silence.

And sure, thinking of questions is hard, I get it! You wanna know my secret? When I was sending out Munday asks regularly, I googled first date questions or improv icebreakers. There's so many great questions to ask people from those. Sure, they can be be incredibly shallow and I'm sure any veteran ask blogger whose been at this a while has probably asked and answered whether they like coffee or tea better. But I'd rather answer that ask for like the fourth time than get nothing because then I'd at least get the opportunity to talk about my thoughts on both for a minute.

This also goes quadrupley so for the memes. There are times where I see people reblogging memes and going the whole day without any interaction because they're a smaller blog. And I'll admit, I straight up have sometimes gone on anon and sent them like three asks back to back because I didn't want them to feel like no one cared about them or their characters. They deserve to get a bunch of asks too, that's part of the fun!

And I think with memes the not sending asks in return is far less excusable because usually there's emojis or numbers that you can literally just copy and paste into the ask box. I cannot tell you how many times I saw blogs I'd never met before reblogging a meme post and it took me all of five minutes to go pick a random emoji and a name from their cast page and drop that into their inbox. It is quite literally that easy.

You should also, generally speaking, send an ask to the person you got the meme from too. Whether they were the one who created it or simply just brought it into popularity, sending them an ask for the meme is a nice way to say thank you for letting you use it too. It took time and effort to create and/or find that meme, and I guarantee you they did not do it simply because they wanted other people to use it on their own blogs. They did it so THEY could answer asks from it on their OWN blog. So give them the opportunity to!

FAQ

The blog I want to send an ask to has (insert species of character) and my blog doesn't interact with that (or vice versa).

That's fine! You don't have to send an ask in character if you don't want to. Sure that's the norm, but if the casts of your blogs are incompatible for some reason, then by all means just don't send an in character ask.

The blog I want to send an ask to doesn't have readily available/up to date asks hints.

You have a couple options here. You can read back through the blog to see what has recently happened to get a feel for what might be a good ask. If you're lucky maybe they'll have a taglist somewhere that'll make backtracking easy. But if not, skimming is fine too. Otherwise, just directly DM the blog and ask them what kind of ask they want. I've done this several times and that can be a great way to get a blog exactly what ask their looking for.

The blog I want to send a Munday ask to is doing a meme I don't want to engage with.

Send them a normal question then! I guarantee you they wouldn't be opposed to answering something opposed to the meme, and even if they don't respond, they'll at least know you tried to return their ask.

The blog that sent me an ask said in their ask call they don't want asks in return.

No need to send one back then! If they said they don't want any, then they aren't expecting any in return. I do this all the time! Sometimes we just like sending out asks for fun and that's a-okay!

The blog I want to send an ask to has closed their inbox.

That's okay! In this instance, it is perfectly reasonable to not send an ask in return. If they've closed their inbox, they're likely not expecting asks back. So you're totally in the clear to not send one in return. No need to go crawling through their submission box to send one in (people actually don't usually like this). Just maybe keep an eye out in the future for if their inbox reopens!

Unless they like explicitly made a post asking for asks within like the last day. In that case please tell them because they probably forgot to open it again (happens more often than you think).

The blog I want to send an ask to doesn't have an organization system making their story, characters, hints, and other materials used in ask crafting difficult to find.

In that case, the burden lies with that blog, not you. Organization is EXTREMELY important. Skins covers this a bit in their ask blog advice post. Having easily accessible tag lists, ask hints, and casts pages can really help with getting asks sent your way. In the same way it isn't fair to someone to not send asks in return, it's equally unfair to make someone scroll through a bunch of meme reblogs just find materials to send an ask with.

The best you can do in this situation is message the blog to ask them for what they want. But if the materials to craft the ask aren't readily available to you, that is on them not you.

In short, please exercise Ask Karma. If someone sends you an ask, please send one back! Thank you!

[daily-odile]

AUGH I’d love to see more time looping odile if possible,,,,, how do you think she’d like; “devolve” over each of the acts as compared to Siffrin over time :O

ok im gonna be honest i did like portrait edits months ago and just never finished them. so here you go

act 3:

act 5:

[ribbononline]

Pokemon Masters made a really cute halloween Iono outfit so obviously I put Courtney in it

[cloudysfluffs]

I love the way you drew Sam and Max in your art style! I hope you do more tk art of them (no pressure though draw what you want)

there is nothing id rather draw for you anon!!!! i LOVE making art of these two <3333333333

(dont worry, sam's got a sneaky way of escaping)

(ns//fw and/or fetish blogs please dni🙏🙏)

[batsplat]

This isn't the usual kind of ask you answer, but I've been working my way through the videopass archive sequentially and have been thinking about the historic/vintage livery that the teams are going to be using in Silverstone after the summer break quite a bit. Personally I'm very fond of the West Honda Pons' black and white livery especially with how they had the names of the riders on one side and the team name on the other, and obviously the gauloises and camel yamahas are iconic. But you've obviously watched a lot of the older seasons, so are there any liveries you'd like to see/which ones would you personally pick for the teams?

I too have been having thoughts about this! I do have some of my faves in a wee folder, and initially my picks were a bit limited in terms of range of years and teams. BUT let's do this properly. all eleven teams. my hot take for each and every one of them

CAVEAT NUMBER ONE look I don't know how 'design' or 'colour theory' or even 'taste' work. most of my reasoning doesn't extend beyond 'I thought this looks nice'

CAVEAT NUMBER TWO I also don't... quite know how this works in terms of who's allowed to use which livery? like not just the sponsor stuff, but would teams be able to use liveries from... idk, a different satellite outfit that was in the sport before they were? this ask mentions the pons liveries.... could honda teams actually use those? what if you don't have a lot of history? is anyone allowed to use mv agusta liveries? would teams go for special liveries, or just the regular ones? how strict are the rules for what you can use?

so. y'know. I'm really just guessing here what's even possible, which meant that for... uh. some of these teams. I did have to reach a bit to come up with a viable livery. let's just make clear this is all vibes and go from here

HONDA

they should have no problem with coming up with plenty of options. let's start with the west honda pons, which the ask references:

excellent pick, anon. if they can use this one, I'd very much support it! we're missing black bikes on the grid currently... this one's simple, it's classy, it's got a little bit of identity with the name written on the side. the dark red highlights work nicely. it's also a livery that, unlike some of the ones to follow, should still work well on the current bikes without losing its identity too much - though maybe you'd have to put some thought into how you'd place the actual name. should still be plenty of space though! and it'd be easily recognisable to fans who are familiar with the old livery, which I reckon is also an important metric

while we're on pons, shout out to the ducados honda pons livery:

nice shade of blue! nice design of the leathers! pleasing shape of the numbers! just has a lot of character and charm to it

anyhow, let's get to the factory honda team. the VERY first pick that popped into my head was the special livery for aragon 2011:

so I get that sense that plenty of people hate this livery and think it looks 'childish' and I'm sorry, but if you think that, congratulations on having bad taste. it's cute! honda barely ever has fun! look at how orange it is! look at the stars! there's a star on the leathers too! I'm fond of the way the front of the bike looks too, how the numbers are placed kinda messily on the star. this one's just, y'know, a bit more creative, something that's just different from how we usually expect liveries to look. screw classy and stylish, give me something with a bit of charm

moving back in time a little further, here's the valencia 2003 livery (valentino's last race with honda):

isn't she gorgeous?? I'd put that bike in my bedroom. lovely from every angle. if you look it up, you can find more photos to show it off properly - just see the sun on the top of the bike. really nice mix of the traditional repsol orange with the yellow, it all just works together. bright like the sun

and one more special livery from the early noughties (if not from the factory team), here's mugello 2001:

hardly a controversial choice, people love this one for a reason. it's pretty!! blue flowers!! this one should work reasonably well on the modern bikes too and obviously most fans should be able to recognise it. again, I don't know what the stance is on special liveries - but hey, it'd be fun to give a certain someone in your factory team a livery from this era

and going back further still, here's eddie lawson 1989:

yes, it's rothmann's honda, yes, I've decided not to care. this is my personal top pick for honda. it should be recognisable even on the current bikes, it pays tribute to honda's long history by not just sticking to something from this century, and it looks cool. clean cut colours that are nicely separated out - I really like the yellow highlights on either side of the bike, plus the way the separation of the blue and white is handled on both the bike and the leathers. it's all quite clearly demarcated, but with nice details to give it character - those stripes on the front of the bike and on the the leathers. the touches of gold. the rider's name on the side of the screen. the number on the back of the bike. cool bit of history, too, like they stole that man away from yamaha and it certainly worked out for them. it's fun!

and one more jump to the past to hailwood's late sixties honda:

this one is proper honda #heritage and I'd totally get if they go with that. my main issue is... I'm not quite sure how it'd work on today's bike, shape-wise? like, the charm here is really the simplicity, the way the orange-gold spreads over the silver. does that work if you have all the bits sticking out everywhere? maybe somebody with a better understanding of design than me can figure it out, and I do like this one. the numbers look nice. idk. it's neat

LCR

well. I guess you'd want to go with one of the cecchinello liveries here? my problem with lcr is that they seem to generally be pretty big on their retro liveries anyway - the first one I thought of... basically looks like the 2021 lcr livery anyway? boring! done that! then there's a few years that are like... silvery, but, and I know this is an unfair way to go about this, I kind of feel I've already gone silvery with a few of my other picks and they're all nicer. so, here's my pick from 2000:

it's a bit busy, but that's kinda the fun of some of these older liveries. big chunk of red, some blue, the nice bright yellow number, even all the logos are kinda fun... I like the weird shape of the white line that separates the red and the black. I don't know, it just works for me as a complete package in a way some of the other lcr liveries don't

YAMAHA

yes, gauloises yamaha. my beloved. everyone's a fan for a reason

can't not mention it!! I do think valentino's version specifically works the best because of the extra bit of flare the yellow highlights provide here. but also the GO!!!!!! thing works on every version. it's fun! sometimes it's okay to go overboard with exclamation mark numbers! this one kinda hits the sweet spot as being proper classy but also joyous, enthusiastic. just overall very much a vibe

on camel yamaha, I do like the livery, but personally I do just associate it more strongly with camel honda? which was literally the same livery. that might not have been the factory team, but those were still serious frontrunners during the early noughties... and, well, it just doesn't feel specifically yamaha to me idk

okay, I'm going to restrain myself here on the valentino livery front. yes, I too liked laguna and valencia 2005. I have only 30 images to play with here and I'm not going to blow half of them on valentino special liveries, so I'm going to stick to my two faves. assen 2007 and catalunya 2008:

they're just! fun! when it comes to liveries in general, my basic criteria are a) can I easily figure out who's riding them, and b) do they make me smile. elegance is boring, give me something more quirky and memorable and FUN. assen is just. a lot. lots of colours, such a bright and cheerful livery that still works as a complete package. the bike's fun, the livery's fun, fabio would look fantastic in this one. and catalunya (in honour of the italian national team) is just a cool idea! the football helmet! the mock shirts! the pink sleeves! there's a real creativity and charm to this one - and at the same time, the base design of the bike is actually really lovely and stylish. also I associated both of these liveries with extremely fun valentino races that I'd definitely recommend (literally two of the top six vale/casey duels), which... well you can't say that about the two 2005 liveries I mentioned above is what I'd say

now, I know I just said forget laguna 2005, but of course laguna 2005 was in itself a reference to a past yamaha livery. so cut out 2005 and just pay direct homage to the iconic late seventies design, feat kenny roberts:

another one everyone loves for a reason! it's a nice shade of yellow, it works well with the white and black... the black dashed line thingies are of course iconic and they just make the whole thing quite dynamic and snazzy

and one more. marlboro liveries do unfortunately slap, plenty of them are fan favourites... look at this red one, feat. eddie lawson 1984:

it's very. blocky. you've got the red bits the white bits the yellow bits. they have nice shapes. nice lines. the yellow bits where one's a circle type thingy and the other one's whatever you call that shape and then you've got the numbers on them. please don't read these descriptions. there's plenty of the marlboro liveries over the course of yamaha's time, but this one's my favourite. and it's the one I'd choose! I know it's super iconic but we already did a tribute to the 70s one back at laguna 2005. do this one instead! it's very yamaha but also a little more creative than the most obvious picks

DUCATI

well. if we're talking marlboro, then yes, of course the old marlboro ducati livery is very memorable:

this is a bike that looks good. there's not much more to say about it (or, well, there probably is, but again it should be obvious I don't know how design works). it's a nice shade of red, I really like how the front looks... my issue with this one is that low key it is the marlboro logo that makes it particularly distinctive. kinda feels against the spirit of the whole thing, damn those tobacco companies and their lovely bike designs

here's mugello 2006, which in itself is a retro livery. I'll allow this one and I do think it's just?? very nice??

really pleasing dull colours, three shades that work together well, got something old fashioned to it. my main problem with this one is... I don't feel like it'd look as good on the current bikes? I don't know, this one works because of the kind of... soft curves of the front of the bike. I do also think quirky and a bit in your face just suit the current bikes better than trying to keep things too classy?

my general problem is that ducati history in motogp is like... we're working with a limited sample size. and when I go through the options I do find them a bit. meh. the thing is, right, the red bikes are nice, I do like the marlboro design, but it's also still essentially a red bike. and if you translate these designs to the current bike shape, it's not going to look THAT different to the bike they're riding any other week. the mugello 2006 probably does better on that account, but I don't know. I think I am kind of committed to making them all actually switch around colours here

so I was wondering if maybe you could delve into the superbikes archive? you could go for the 2001 livery, feat. bayliss (also a motogp race winner):

I think the silver pairs quite nicely with the black leathers... also I like it whenever the bit on the front where they put the number on has a slightly quirky shape. I'm not going to pretend like this is my all time favourite livery, but I do like it well enough! it'd translate well to the current bikes, would give us a proper switch-up, works quite nicely imo

and one more from superbikes, this from 2012:

this one isn't happening for a bunch of reasons, not least because I doubt the effenbert team is one that's remembered particularly fondly by ducati. still, it passes the 'does it look distinctive' test to me, making a 'what if you threw a pint of beer over a motorcycle' livery is at the very least something different

PRAMAC

there's a few different ways you could go here, but I'd just keep it simple and go for one of the years where the pramac logo is big on one side of the bike. here's harada in 2002:

not a bad logo! you've got the arrows and everything! you've also got another more subtle silver arrow in the middle of all the white, makes the whole thing feel quite dynamic. simple colours, very pramac. bold and brash

(you could go for the 2018 mugello livery too but I philosophically reject having a 'retro' livery from 2018)

GRESINI

another satellite team that's been around for a while, and my suspicion is they'll go for one of fausto gresini's liveries. none of those... really appeal to me... so I wanted to suggest one from their telefonica movistar days back in the mid noughties. that's right: I'm talking sete's livery:

in practise, this livery does deeply annoy me in 2004 to 2005 because - despite not being in the same factories - you've somehow managed to get both title rivals in pretty damn similar liveries. like, can I tell them apart? sure. but especially with the poorer video quality, is it really necessary to make it this tricky? well! no! but also sete had this livery before his title rival switched to yamaha, so he came first. I like this one a lot! I like the way the yellow is integrated, the chequered bits around the telefonica movistar logo, good helmet too. slightly unusual patterns for the win - there's quite a lot going on with the lines on this design but it all kinda comes together. I actually think you could make this one look really good on the modern bikes, and it has a real spark and flare to it. also I would find it narratively pleasing if marc rides with sete's livery

but if gresini wants to go another way, shout out to their 2010 livery (several of the early 2010s look quite similar):

I'm not the biggest fan in the world of white liveries, but the style of this one pleases me idk. there's a slightly unusual shape on the side of this one, which I've already said I approve of. it's a nice shade of red to pair with the white. not my first pick, but I'd settle for this one

VR46

right, this is one where I really have questions. ... are they allowed to use just any of valentino's old liveries? what are the rules here? I think to maybe keep things straightforward here, I'll avoid his actual honda and yamaha liveries (those kids are not getting the gp11/12 let's be real) and stick to the lower class ones. now... those are aprilia liveries, and if aprilia wants to use some of those then please have at it. otherwise: vr46, lads, this is the way you want to go. here's 1999 (though 1998 also looks lovely):

one where the leathers and helmet really feels like a part of the design, like that's the bit that really completes the look. the dark grey base tone works as something you can layer all the fun stuff on. the font of the numbers! the warm reds and yellows! the stickers! this one's just FUN, it has a real adolescent verve and joy to it

and of course there's the mugello 1999 special livery:

she's so pretty!! recognisable! I don't even know what to say about this one apart from. look. it's fun. just something youthful and joyous and energetic to the whole thing... keeps things pretty straightforward on the colour front, the dark orange-brown highlights really brings it all together. or something

APRILIA

so. here's another question. are we just stuck with premier class liveries here? because if so, it's pretty slim pickings... but look, thirty images, we're not getting into everything they've been up to in the lower classes

luckily, aprilia do have quite a nice 2002 entry in the premier class:

dark colours are fun sometimes!! I like the shape of the ms logo! it's a bit chaotic, but in a fun way! it feels very aprilia, somehow. this would be my pick I think, I could easily transpose this to the current bikes in my mind's eye. aprilia kinda feels like it's supposed to be a bit chaotic, all those bits sticking off. love the red sleeves of the leathers

you could also go for the 2004 livery:

I'm not personally? super into the white and gold as a combination? definitely prefer the darker base colour of 2002. but it's quite distinctive - the red sleeves actually pop out more in this one. it's neat!

TRACKHOUSE

uh. um. uh. are they... allowed to run petronas colours? I mean it's basically still the same team? maybe they can borrow some aprilia ones? if not, then well they're the rahh rahh america team. I would ask ducati very nicely if maybe they could use this indianapolis 2009 livery in honour of the late nicky hayden:

I know you probably can't do that, but well! if you could, that'd be my pick for them! I like stars, america has stars on their flags, this is very rahh rahh america. the helmet and liveries are also fun and have stars on them. that's all I've got, sorry

KTM

okay, we've got an even bigger problem than aprilia here. these guys have NOT been in motogp long enough. my idea here was... so obviously ktm just do not have a suitable back catalogue of liveries, but aren't they like basically red bull? and red bull did like. a one off partnership with suzuki for laguna 2005, and suzuki isn't even in the sport any more so it's not like there's a CLASH there. I don't know how this works! whatever. I think it's nice!

it's not the most exciting thing I've ever seen in my life, but the red bull logo works well on the black. looks classy! and if suzuki gets mad then well red bull can just chuck money at them idk

the other option is... doesn't ktm own mv agusta now? go for one of those! they look quite similar for much of a decade, so I could have included another hailwood photo here - but I'm just going to use the early seventies mv agusta instead:

it's very simple, very basic. I'm not... sure this works on bikes these days. anyway I chose this one over its predecessor because I do like the stripes on the leathers, very adidas coded. if you can figure out how to make this whole design look good for the more complex bikes of today, then this would be a good pick imo. I like quirky shapes to put my numbers on... but sometimes circles are also good

TECH3

so. for a while, these are running the gauloises yamaha liveries, which we've already covered. maybe they could take the fortuna yamaha liveries instead that they used, especially if the factory yamaha squad doesn't want the kinda similar ones they ran at certain points. basically they're the red yamahas in the noughties. I'd go for 2004 tech3, which... y'know, the fortuna font is just quite nice, they're stylish liveries, they're just bikes you look at and go 'wow that sure is a nice bike'. and yes, we do need to at this point also mention the estoril 2004 spiderman livery

all I'm saying, if pedro acosta does not show up to silverstone on the spiderman bike. a part of me will be disappointed

otherwise, I thought the dunlops in 2007 were quite nice?

yes, yes, it's another yellow and black yamaha livery. but hey, it's a bit different from the one they referenced at laguna 2005, keeps things fresh. wouldn't mind this one

IN CONCLUSION

might add to these at some point, but those are kinda the first picks that come to mind! a lot of these are annoyingly recent, because most teams on the grid aren't that old. not quite sure what the rules of the game are here! which does mean that, as much as I enjoy the recent designs, I kinda hope honda and yamaha don't go for liveries from this century and dig a bit deeper in the archives

basically, what I'm looking for from the teams is a retro livery that a) is clearly recognisable to anyone familiar with said past livery, b) works with the actual shape of the current bike, c) looks different enough from their current livery, I want colour swaps, and d) looks cool. also, they should coordinate. istg if half of the grid shows up in white liveries... hopefully at least some of the teams will go for the fun ones!

[appreciatingtokrev]

hey guys do y’all remrmber me ..... i am alive and doing well 👍👍

[awkwardtickleetoo]

I'm gonna try to go through my drafts and inbox today (or tomorrow) as much as I can to try to clear some stuff out :)

[justladders]

First off, I want to second the thing about tiktok. Unless it is literally your job to market for a company or something, that platform is so extremely blood-sucking. Beyond everything else about it, creators are forced to constantly post, constantly shift to do what's popular for attention in the algorithm, etc. An incredibly easy way to burn out and be down on yourself if you aren't keeping it up. Just don't do it.

But what I find to be very important to realize and applicable to a lot of artists is that, because of what they have seen or been told, they have started to prioritize numbers over what they originally went online for: sharing.

It is incredibly easy on social media to compare yourself to other people -and their numbers- which is what everyone always says you should never do. One of my own friends mentioned to me that they were disheartened when something of mine got attention because their stuff "doesn't do as well." It's not that I don't understand why they want engagement, it's that the comparison is damaging and pointless because there will always be someone with a more popular post, with art that more people seem to like, with stuff that more people will engage with. What you have to realize is that doesn't make them "better." Even if you're considered a popular artist, there may be times where you make something that doesn't get as much attention as before, in which case the person you're comparing yourself to is yourself, which is still the same principle:

"Comparison is the thief of joy."

Share your ideas and your art that you enjoy, and the people that like it will find it, and people will echo appreciation and ideas, and a group or community of like-minded individuals may start to form, and you can make new friends, and you can find ideas/inspiration/new media through those people and what they share, and the list goes on. If one amount of engagement is higher than another, that doesn't stop any of this from happening anywhere else. And this could just be like 5 people. It doesn't have to be 5000.

A quick aside about Tumblr. I've been on a number of social medias to share art, but over time I always end up finding it incredibly easy to just drift off of those platforms. They always go the same way: "post, get some likes/shares, post again." Tumblr has been the only one where I've found actual engagement easier, especially in the form of asks, which is much more fun. It's like the difference between "passing a friend and waving hello" and "passing a friend, but stopping to ask about that new game they just got, make an in-joke, suggest a movie to watch later, then do a silly handshake."

Now, I want you to consider this - you, the creative reading this that is constantly comparing themselves:

Imagine that there was no way to check the "numbers" on the engagement you get. You can still see interactions and respond and whatnot, but there's no way to quantify it. And now imagine that there's no way for you to check other people's numbers. You can never know if anyone else's stuff has gotten more attention than you.

Would you be content with the people that are there that want to engage with you? If there was no metric for comparison, would you be upset about the amount of attention you aren't getting? Would you be happier responding to the engagement you do get if you weren't wishing there was as much as someone else?

If you find that this applies, I have a trick for you. Just pretend like the numbers don't matter so you can be happier. Then, through the experience of it, you can come to realize that they really don't matter. And then you won't have to pretend. And then you can be happy.

also we fucked up as a society the moment we started telling teens and aspiring artists to conflate being an artist with building a brand as if the two things are inextricable. the name of the game if you want to share your art is to work a job and sell yourself as aesthetizied content. back in my day we could just POST SHIT. to deviantart! what the fuck!

[lovecolibri]

I also don't remember what your anon is referring to as far as another anon and Tim (PHEW 🤣) but I saw the point about him and Lucy and had to chime in. This is not me saying that he's above reproach, as I have plenty of criticisms of him, BUT I also don't think it's fair to say that him and Kristen are on the same level about things, including their views of Buddie.

Anyway, the only thing that I ever found him say on the record about Lucy was in a TVLine preview of 5B and it was, "I'd say she's like a female Buck."

Which...knowing what we know about how their story unfolded, is extra creepy 🤣 It's also not accurate description of her character, or at least not the version that we saw, which makes me think that he was fairly out of the loop in the creative process. I know that he was interviewed after 5.1 because he wrote the episode, but I really don't think that he said anything (or at least not much) about the OG 911 after that. Which again gave me vibes that he wasn't super involved in the plotting and writing for season 5 aside from episode 1. But I definitely think that he involved in the editing, given how much was cut, especially with regard to Lucy. I can't remember the source, but there was a quote circulating last year that Tim was basically always present in the editing room and extremely influential in terms of what made it in.

Also, I know that he told Variety that he deleted his Twitter account because he was getting annoyed with Tarlos/Carlos fans complaining about Carlos' lack of screentime and he got sick of defending it (which 🙄 ... maybe you shouldn't defend it then! ) BUT the deleting occurred ahead of the OG 5B premiere and I turly always felt that he was trying to avoid Lucy backlash. Like, he was smart enough to know it was coming, and was all, "It wasn't my idea - don't blame me!" (Which again begs the question of WHY you put Kristen in charge, but whatever)

The original anon just said something about it being interesting that Tim basically hasn't said anything about OG because he doesn't want to be involved/associated with the mess and was distancing himself and focusing on LS. As I said, I don't really read the interviews so I can neither confirm or deny any of this but him being in the editing room wrt L does make sense, but then again, knowing how personal Eddie's story with PTSD and his military service is to him and to Ryan, I feel like if he had stepped in we might have gotten less of that stupid spider call and more focus on Eddie's story instead of it being shoved into the end of the episode. But either way, none of us will REALLY know what happens behind the scenes unless someone comes out and confirms anything. I'm sure *someone*, even if it wasn't Tim directly made the call to cut as much L as they did because KR sure AF has not let it go and has fought tooth and nail to get her back and to squeeze her in where she can.

I will say it would surprise me zero amounts to find out Tim just doesn't want to deal with people calling him out for how he does things and also Twitter is...a cesspool so him leaving there kinda tracks HOWEVER, he's clearly still on Facebook where the Tarlos and Buddie fans are far fewer and far less engaged soooo 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

I certainly don't think him and KR are on the same page about Buddie (especially because it would be quite the feather in his cap to pull off and get a lot of "critical acclaim" because apparently following the obvious narrative and telling a coherent and well-built up love story is still groundbreaking storytelling) however if someone over HIM is pumping the breaks? It would make sense for him to leave the show with someone who is in line with that vision, and put his energy into LS instead, with the bonus of letting someone else take the backlash.

[skulla-rxcks]

Was that message for me?

Paring: friend!bang chan x afab reader

Rating: explicit

Genre: smut

Warnings: PIV, mutual msturbation, friends trope, chan thinks the message wasn’t for him, slight daddy kink, oral, fingèring

Asking best friend!Chan for help orgasming.. but he thinks the message wasn’t for him

Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl @mal-lunar-28 @bangchans-gf5 @fun-fanfics @iwannabangchan @linosluver

Please dm me or use my inbox if you’d like to be added to the taglist ^^

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

“Heyy can you come over? I need help :(”

“Why? You okay? What do you need help with?”

“I can’t seem to cum. Every time I try to orgasm I just seem to can’t, it’s like I’m stopped.”

“Were you meant to say that to me?” Chan asks typing his fingers across his phone, clearly confused. This message wasn’t meant for him.. right?

“Wdym?”

“You asked for help with.. you know.. uh things. That wasn’t meant for me right?”

He looks at his phone, his brows furrowing in confusing as he reads over the explicit question asked.

“Chris just come over please. It’s easier to talk in person”

I sigh my mood changing to regret as I can already see the confusion in his face even though I can’t physically see him through my phone. I end up receiving a thumbs up in response ‘thank god I didn’t just mess up our friendship completely’ I sigh in relief; and about twenty or so minutes later I hear the door bell ring; getting up from my bed and exiting my room I go and answer it, opening the door to Chan, clearly questioning what the fuck just happened not too long ago.

“So im guessing it was for me if you asked me to come over..? You did use my name after all.” He steps inside, making his way to my living room and taking a seat on the couch, I sit down next to him, both of us completely flustered.

“I’m really sorry for bringing this up I know it’s probably a bit uncomfortable talking about something like this but-” Chan cuts me off, looking at me with concern.

“No no don’t worry it’s fine! I uh, get like that sometimes I understand.. do you not own toys or anything that could.. give you a hand?” I shake my head, looking embarrassed for bringing this ‘issue’ up to someone who I’d probably consider my guy best friend.

“No.. I mean, I use the handle of my hair brush sometimes but I’ve never had this issue before.” I blush, why am I asking him about something like this? I feel like I’m going to cry out from embarrassment.

He sighs, noticing how uncomfortable I am and how much I trust him to even bring up an issue like this.

“Have you tried anything else? Pillow humping?.. uhh… maybe use more fingers if you.. never mind I’m so sorry I sound really perverted giving suggestions haha.” He laughs, trying to lighten the mood and get some of the tension out of the air that’s filling the room.

“No! Don’t worry Chan it’s fine.. I’m finding it helpful to talk about this stuff..” I mumble under my breath.

“Okay well.. are you stressed? Maybe that’s the reason I’ve heard that stress can stop people from orgasming sometimes?” He suggests, trying to get to the bottom of whatever’s happening. “I’m not sure. Can you give me a hand and see if that’s the problem maybe? I uh, maybe if someone helps me I’ll be able to..”

Chan nods slowly looking into my eyes for permission before reassuring himself with his words. “So you want me to.. help you cum? Like you want me to touch you or..” He scrunches his face, a hint of lust glazing over his features, his soft lips puckering with his expressions, a mix of frowns and smiles cover them.

I Look away, fiddling with my own hands. “If that’s okay.. hopefully it doesn’t ruin our relationship or anything.” I blush, fluttering my eyelashes at him, silently pleading for more. “Of course if that’s what you need to make you feel better then I’m happy to oblige, especially if I’m the one who can make you cum.” He chuckles, the top of his ears turning red.

I smile, beginning to take off my sweat pants along with my panties, watching as he strips himself of his bottom half as well.

“So what now..?” I ask. “Maybe we should start with mutual masturbation.. don’t wanna rush things, you know?” He smiles politely. What a gentle man he is, not rushing into anything fast, even though I’d be happy for whatever he wants to do first with me. “Okay” I nod, picking up our pants and bringing him to my bedroom and sitting down with him. “You know how to do this right?”

“We just.. masturbate side by side?” I look at him. Receiving a nod. I look at him as he starts to wrap his fist around his cock, pumping it slowly before picking up speed, the site of his dick making my insides ache and my cunt twitch with need. Watching him, I slowly thrust two fingers inside of my hole, curling them up to hit my g spot, my eyes however, are hooked onto his dick, watching him like he’s some sort of drug to me, drawing me in more and more with every stroke.

“You’re staring quite a bit, you okay?” He giggles, rubbing his spare hand on my thigh reassuringly. “Yeah yeah it’s just.. wow, I never expected to do something like this with you.. I mean, you’re probably one of my best friends after all” I shuffle closer to him, my pussy twitching around my fingers as I think about how his dick would feel inside of me; raw or protected I don’t care, I wonder how good he’d feel inside of me with his thick length, if he’d let me cum immediately or if he’d dominate me and use me to his liking; controlling whether or not I’m allowed to cum as I squirm under him.

I finally decide to let my horny thoughts get a hold of me. “I want you.. but I still can’t seem to..”

“You have me, princess. What’s on your mind?” He says, looking into my eyes with concern, noticing how needy I’m getting. He probably noticed how I was twitching around my fingers and lost in my thoughts. “I’m wondering how.. how your..” I try to get my words out but they’re tied back against my throat. “How my what?” He teases, clearly enjoying this side of me. “Tell me or I won’t give it to you, yeah?”

I nod, “I’m wondering how your dick would feel inside of me.. e-every inch and the thickness of it stretching me open.. how you’d treat me differently while I’m under you or on top.” I look away after finally spilling my words out, feeling my cheeks get hot. There’s so much more I want to say but it would take hours.

“Do you wanna stop wondering and try it out? Id be lying if I said I wasn’t wondering similar things about your pretty little pussy.. wonder how tight you are and how your face contorts as you make a pretty mess all over my dick.” He teases, reaching over into my lap to stroke his fingers over my clitoris, making me squirm with need.

“Please Chan.. Please Chris..” I beg him, using both of his names. “Good girl. Protection or no protection?” He asks, wanting to know my preference or if I want him to fill me up with his hot seed or not.

“As much as I want to risk it.. I don’t wanna accidentally you know, get impregnated and regret it once I’m not extremely fucking horny.”

“Mm that’s okay.. hopefully one day you’ll let me pump that cunt of yours up full of my cum, hm?” Chan smirks, enjoying making me into a soaking wet needy mess with his words.

He lifts his shirt over his head exposing his bare muscular body as he climbs on top of me. “Be a good girl and take your bra off for me, let me see those tits..” “yes da-“ I pause, realising what almost came out of my mouth. “Daddy huh? Fuck that made me so turned on.” He groans, reaching into his bag and finding a condom before rolling it onto his dick. While he does that I obey his order and unclip my bra, my breasts now being on display.

He licks his lips at the site of me now laying under him completely naked and vulnerable, dripping and ready for his cock. Chan positions himself at my entrance and pushes in, making me let out a moan of pleasure.

“Chris oh my god..!” I cry out, savouring the feeling of how his cock fills up my dripping needy cunt perfectly, slowly calming the urges inside of me but slowly making me want more. “Shh you’re okay.. just focus on how good I feel inside this pretty pussy, okay?”

“M-mhm..” a whimper leaves my mouth before feeling Chan press his lips against mine, his tongue parting my lips and our tongues now dancing and tangling together as his hands slowly creep their way down to my breasts massaging and playing with them making me squirm under him with even more need pulsing through my body as a result of his actions. “So fucking tight just for me..” he murmurs Into the kiss, beginning to plunge his dick in and out of my hole harder and faster. “Y-yes only for you daddy… I’m all yours ” I moan, parting away from the kiss to look into his eyes, my brain studying every scrunch and frown of pleasure lurking upon his face.

Fuck, I imagine how he must feel pounding and ruining me raw, without protection; every vein and every pulse as more blood runs to his dick making him grow and twitch inside of me. God, how I want him to fill me up and impregnate me with his children so Fucking badly. It’s definitely not right for our first time being intimate though.

“Whatcha thinking about now baby girl?” He teases again, pumping his length deeper into my pussy, I can’t even get a solid response out of my mouth it feels so fucking good. “So loud.. you gonna cum? You gonna make a mess all around my dick?”

“A-ah.. yes.. yes.. soon!” I cry, feeling myself tighten around him as I creep up the road to reach my peak. “So loud..” he chuckles, connecting his lips to my breast sucking gently on my nipple as I let loose a soft scream that turns into a loud moan as I feel him pound his length deeper Into me.

My back arching slightly from the pressure, tears starting to well up in my eyes as a loud string of moans leave my lips.

“Come for me baby~ Come for daddy~”

And so I did, screaming and crying louder than I ever had before, clenching him tighter, cumming around his cock. HARD.

Not long after I feel Chan reach his too, filling up the condom, making me feel a little bubble inside of me before pulling out, tying it up and properly disposing of it. “You sound so pretty when you cum baby? May I eat you out? Show you I can make you cum in more ways than one?” He chuckles, clearly amused with himself at the mess he’s created

“Please..” I pout, the thought of his plush soft lips against my clit and his tongue thrusting in and out of my needy little hole making me go feral.

“Only for you.” he smirks. I shivering as he slowly makes his way down to my cunt, licking and trailing his tongue down from my breasts until he reaches his desired destination. He grips his hands around my thighs, gently prying them open before attaching his lips to my now swollen clitoris flicking it with his tongue as his beady brown eyes look up at me and watch while I throw my head back in pleasure. “C-Chris..! Ah..”

“You taste just as good as you look..” Chan groans into my pussy, making me whimper even more this time due to the vibrations of his voice flowing through me and my pussy. “Fuck! You’re ruining me..!~” I sob out in pleasure, my hand reaching down to push his face deeper into my folds, needing more of his mouth, which only causes him to start moving his tongue and lips faster.

“Chris!! Don’t do that ill-“ I try to warn him but it’s too late, I’ve already made a mess of myself all over his face.

“Well at least you’re not complaining are you?” God, even his way of words makes me so horny.

I shake my head. “Good girl. My good girl.” He grins, moving his head up from my crotch to my face, forcing his lips on mine making me taste myself. “Mmph!?-“ I gasp against his lips as he pushes two fingers inside of me, bending them and moving them back and forth against that sweet spot inside of me.

“You like that baby girl? Tell me what you like about my hands.. since you stare at them so often you must have some naughty thoughts about them, yeah?” Chan pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva still connecting our lips as he waits for my response.

“Y-yes.. I.. i Imagine your fingers in me as I touch myself, but f-fuck they’re so much better and faster than mine.” I connect my lips back to his, our tongues beginning to swirl and twirl again. “Get on your knees for me.” He demands me, I let out a whine of disappointment as he pulls his fingers out of my pussy. “Mhm..” I smile, getting down on my knees and looking up at him. “I ate your pretty little pussy so now it’s time for you to wrap that mouth around me.,”

“Yes”

“Yes what?”

“Yes daddy.”

“Such a good girl you are, already knowing your place” he praises. I wrap my mouth around his already dripping cock and start taking him Into my mouth, sucking him. The flavour of his precum hitting my taste buds making me feel special, making me feel that I’m maybe definitely more than a friend to him.

“You wanna take me deeper? Think you can do it?” I nod, my mouth filled with his dick, I take him deeper and deeper, slowly beginning to deep throat him. Accidentally gaging around his length in the process.

“Your throats so tight baby. Im Gonna cum soon fucking swallow every drop of me.” I look up at him, he’s biting his lip as he spills his seed down my throat, I swallow it all, hungry for every bit of his cock, I whine slightly as he pulls out of my mouth, a tiny bit of his semen still dripping down my chin, I lick it up greedily.

“Good girl. Did you get what you wanted? Happy you could finally cum?”

I nod, now laying down with him and snuggling my head against his chest like a lost kitten.

“If you ever need help again don’t hesitate to call me baby girl.”

“Same for you Chris.”

[red-doll-face]

Heeyyy! Soooo I have a fun request idea that I totally came up with on my own with no help from anybody else, from my own mind and not some super creative person that answered my question about Arthur proposing to reader 🤣 it goes something like this:

-takes three months to work up the nerve and like another one to pick out one ring.

-chickens out at least two times bc the moment isn't right

-asks Hosea for advice 19 times (Hosea is tired)

-he's the trope where reader starts crying and he's like ohh goddd i fucked up of course you don't wanna marry my ass

-the way he would ride around for a week looking for the perfect spot to do it

-marks it on his map with a heart

-the essays he would write in his journal about this situation

-he's so cute i love him pls marry me Arthur Morgan

-awww once you say yes??

Hehehehe no pressure though!!!!! I just looooovvvveeeee this idea so much!

Yes !!! Yes of course I’ll write this!!! ❤️❤️💕💕🥰🥰😵‍💫😵‍💫😩😩As always it ended up running really long even though I didn’t even really flesh out a back story. 🥲 I’m glad you enjoyed my response ☺️☺️ I definitely had high honor Arthur Morgan in mind for this when I read it, I hope it’s ok and that you like it!!! I was so happy to see you in my inbox !!! @zae-heeyyy 💓💓💓💓💓 writing this was so cathartic and I loved the rdr1 setting so much so that I made this pre black water heist or whatever 😭🫶 from Arthur’s pov hope you like the characterization 🥹

Tags: established relationship, marriage proposals?? Arthur being a major weenie. Like huge weenie. He is soooo sooo sweet it’s almost like too much and I love love love sweet Arthur so very fluffy!!!! Pre black water !! Dutch being a jerk 😒 but cute dad Hosea moments ☺️

Arthur wants things to be perfect for you.

(High honor) Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur knows he’s made up his mind when he’s in the tailor’s shop in Blackwater, looking like a lowdown cattle rustler among all of the fancy fabrics on the wall. He and his spurs, his boots scuffed to hell and a leather satchel slung over his chest. He’s out of place and he knows it. But he’s here to buy a new shirt.

Yesterday, he had nearly driven himself insane looking for a shirt of his that wasn’t ruined, ripped and mended, dirty, stained irreparably. None of them were good enough for what he wanted, something nice to get down on one knee and ask his girl to marry him. And so he kissed you goodbye and rode into town in search of something better. He makes an effort at pretending to be interested in any of the fancy stuff, silk and linen suits that he sure will never be fitted for him. He clears his throat as the attendant drags his eyes away from the sunday paper.

A tight lipped smile consumes the man's face. Arthur already can sense the assumptions he’s getting but he pays little mind to it. He’s getting this shirt and that's that.

“How can I help you, sir?” Obnoxious and nasally, the thin and short man's voice already gives away his air of superiority. Arthur's eyes narrow but he isn’t too irritated yet.

“Here to get a shirt.” His words are simple. The attendant raises a brow.

“Just a shirt, not… pants or shoes?” the attendant lowers the paper to scan over the rest of Arthur’s clothes. Arthur can hardly ignore the burn of insecurity.

He gives a look that conveys how quickly he is losing his patience. “Excuse me?” He can only tell his posture changed when he observes the man's attitude change, clinging to the counter between them like it would make any difference.

“No, well sir, perhaps I’ve overstepped, I apologize. What kind of-of shirts were you thinking?”

“Listen, I ain’t here to cause no trouble, just show me what you’ve got,�� The attendant hurries to show him some options, tries to sell him a vest but that isn’t happening with his budget.

In the end, he picks a blue french dress shirt. Costs a real pretty penny but he wants it to be special. Because you’re special. He stuffs it away in a saddlebag after thanking the attendant, who no doubt heaves a sigh of relief after he leaves.

-

He’s been collecting rings. In a special bag is a collection. A few plain gold bands, some with stones set in them. They’re pretty blue and red gems, some have filigree detailing. But he still can’t find the right one.

Worse then, is that they’re rings of all different sizes which he gets from his more sordid activities. Debt collecting or train robberies. It’s all stolen goods. It feels wrong to give you something like that but when he told Dutch his intentions, he clapped him on the back and told him to look in the collection box for more rings. He nodded then but it was half hearted. Somehow that was more souring. Did he really want to give you something he took from someone else? That someone else bought for their loved one with the express purpose of giving them something to symbolize how they loved each other? His own thoughts swirl circles in his head, why he had these scruples about it, he didn’t know.

It’s riding with Hosea that he asks for advice. They’ve been working on a job in Tumbleweed, trying to con some poor fool into giving money he shouldn’t by pretending to sell land deeds. They ride all the way from the yellow grasses of Hennigan’s Stead and it’s been mostly quiet over the stretch of passing though Armadillo. Arthur decides to speak up after they pass through town. The sun is beginning to dip a bit lower in the sky but they’ll be in Tumbleweed before then.

“I been-”

“This about you n’ the girl?” Hosea already has a knowing smile and Arthur rubs the back of his neck. “I think you should do it! You two would make quite the couple, she’s a sweetheart, that girl,”

“Yeah, she-she’s… I’ve been lookin’ at rings to give ‘er,” He grips the reins before going lax, riding easily along the path. Hosea murmurs, letting Arthur continue. He guides Boadicea down the dusty road. “I don’t think I wanna give her something I got robbin’, don’t seem right,”

“Then get her something new, I don’t think she’ll mind at all. But you do what you think you should. You could probably fence all the other rings you thought about and get her something quite nice with the cash,”

“Yeah, I could do that,” why hadn't he thought of that?

“That’s a wonderful thing, getting married. Don’t be afraid to, y’know, go through with it. If you’re thinkin’ about it. Maybe, once Dutch and I find the perfect spot for the gang to settle down, we’ll build you two your own little thing on the land,”

“You that confident she’ll say yes?” Arthur has an awkward and disbelieving laugh but Hosea keeps his earnest smile.

“Why wouldn’t she? Arthur, somehow, she has gone for a man like you, you should be over the moon, you should be whistling tunes everywhere you go,”

“Like me? What's that supposed to mean?” He knows what he means. A man like him had very little to offer you, a young woman who could easily charm some other well established man into giving you a home. Leagues away from his cot and the weathered canvas he put up to give you some small amount of privacy.

“You remember what happened with that Mary woman. This time, things oughta turn out better. This one’s got no old man to chase you around with a shotgun,” Hosea figures himself very funny and laughs, ending it with a shallow cough. Arthur furrows his brows.

Of course he reminded him of his disaster with Mary. He could never escape that woman, even when he severed ties with her. But how he had wanted to, especially with you. Yes, it was true, he had loved Mary. But now he loves you. He needs you. His idea of the rest of his life always includes you, laying in bed with him, gently stroking his chest, leaving him love notes in his satchel, telling him what happened in the camp while he was gone. He always listens, always wakes up smiling with you tucked under his arm.

“I remember just fine,” he grunts,

“Good, because you’ll forget about her soon enough. Month from now, I suppose. Where are you going to tell her?”

“Where? I didn’t think we was gonna go nowhere, just tell her when I was ready to…” he hadn’t even imagined a place when he first set out to do this.

“So you wanna propose; with Uncle standing behind her, drunk off his ass in just his soiled union suit?”

“I-”

“Take her somewhere special, somewhere to make her feel special! Women like to feel special, Arthur, you know that,”

“I do?” He says, with a sarcastic edge to his voice, though he tries on his attempt at sounding uninvested.

“You should. I didn’t do that enough. I should have before, well…” Arthur nods, bowing his head a little as if in remembrance. He hopes to always have you by his side. Otherwise he would be much like Hosea: carrying a torch for a woman who passed through his life too quickly.

-

He starts his journey looking for something special. Special like you are. Keeps his eye out, marking potential things in his map, and makes a list in his journal. Aurora Basin maybe, a pretty lake deep in the forest but getting attacked by bears doesn’t sound romantic in any way. There are some sweeping vistas overlooking the San Luis River in Rio Bravo. He isn’t quite sure about anything though, thinking it over deeply. He just wants things to be perfect.

He’s still thinking about it when he comes back to camp, close to Lake Don Julio, sighing. Thinking much too hard obviously, he doesn’t notice that you’re sitting on his bed, biting your nail nervously until you see him first. You look worried, happy to see him but worried. You stand, hugging your arms around yourself and then placing them on your hips to make you seem more upset but you just drop them when he’s close enough.

“Hey, darlin’,” He utters, opening his arms to give you a hug but you just look up at him. He drops them, mentally kicking himself before taking his hat off and sitting down on his bed.

“Arthur, you’ve been gone three days,”

“I know,” you’re disappointed in his answer. You take a breath and a pause, looking off to the right. He stares down at his scuffed and weather worn boots. He hates to disappoint you, hates when you’re upset. It takes a lot to get you there, too. You’re a forgiving soul when he knows he doesn’t deserve forgiveness. He looks away, like a dog who knew he shouldn’t have chewed those leather boots up to bits.

“You know. I asked everyone where you were and they didn’t know,”

“Honey, I ain’t gonna leave you, I’m not-”

“You leave other men out of this, Arthur,” you already predicted he’d bring another man’s failings to make up for his own. Maybe bringing up John’s shortcomings while you’re upset is a little below the belt but it worked better in his head. He puffs some air out in a laugh. God, he just can’t seem to find the right words to say.

“Is something funny? Is how much-how much I worry funny to you?” You look like you’re gonna cry, squeezing your arms tight around yourself. Your eyes flick around, thinking of all the people watching, never any goddamn privacy in this place. You start to back up, looking for a place to hide your tears.

“No, no, I- I’m sorry, don’t go walkin’ away,” You let him pull you back. Let him tug you into his lap. You sniff and tuck into his neck. “I’m sorry,” he says at least 5 more times. His hands pet down your hair, holding you. He hadn’t wanted to come back to such a harrowing fear in the pit of his stomach, the thought of you walking off without him. He thinks himself lucky that you haven’t had enough of him and decided to leave already.

Arthur pulls you in real tight, doesn’t let up til’ you start to calm down a little. “Shouldn’t cry for me, sweet girl, bastard like me ain’t worth them tears,” he wipes a few away. Seeing you like this could make him cry if he thought about it too much, how he had let you down. His nerves almost make him tremble, the slightest shake in his fingers when he brushes them under your eyes, shiny with tears. If anyone else made you cry, he’d knock their teeth out. But what is he supposed to do when it’s him? Sickness roils around his abdomen.

“Where were you, anyway?” You shake your head at his words. “Mac and Davey said…” he perks up at that. Those boys are a terror. His face screws up in an anticipated anger. He’d be angrier with them, they’re the ones who need to see it, not you.

“What’d they say?”

“No, they were just messing with me. I don’t think it’s true,” You look away. But he knows exactly how nasty those boys can be. He gives you a look and you give him a defeated one in return. An embarrassment leaks into your words. You can’t meet his eyes, twiddling your fingers.

“They said you were at the saloon in town. They said things that aren’t true and I know it but it isn’t nice to leave me here with nothing to say about it,”

“I know, darlin’, next time, you’ll be the first to know where I’m goin’,” You nod and wrap an arm around his shoulder while he pats your back, grabs your thigh so he can pull you to sit across his lap fully.

“Are you gonna answer my question or should I take their word?” you tease and he reassures you about those boys. They’ll be hearing from him soon enough.

“I’m gonna have a word with them, don’t worry about it,” he scratches his beard. How is he supposed to say that he went riding around looking for a place to take you so he can ask you to take his sorry hand in marriage? He had already disappointed you and saying it’s a secret is a laughable idea.

“Well, I was out, uhh- huntin’?” You frown and lean away.

“Arthur, you’re an awful hunter and an awful liar,” you look really hurt. You almost stand but he pulls you back. He needs something to tell you and fast.

“I was out lookin’ for somethin’ real special to give you. It’s supposed to be a surprise…but well, I can’t keep no secrets from you, sweetheart,” You fuss a little, a wariness in your posture. You study his expression. It isn’t a complete lie, makes it a bit easier to pull off. He really does have a surprise for you. He tries to keep his face neutral, but his lips twitch up when yours do to, a small smile shining through the clouds of your emotional turmoil.

“What surprise?”

“I didn’t find it, guess a surprise, it’s gonna have to stay,” You pout and wiggle, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest.

“Ok, but once you find it, you better take me to see it right away,” You kiss him, soft and sweet, holding his prickly jaw in one hand. He can feel how your pout gives way to a smile. The feeling of your soft lips on his is one of those things he’ll never get sick of, never get over.

“I will, promise,”

-

He’s found the perfect ring, really, by chance. It’s a little thing but it’s the right color, goes well with you. The rock on it isn’t very big but he saw it in a window while in town. Some big fancy jewelry store, showing off all the finer things that he never paid any mind to. Unless it was to steal it of course. But he had bought it. With money that may have been also robbed but it was from hitting a Del Lobo stash. A good deed, probably in a backwards sense.

The girls had ‘oohed’ at it, Mary-Beth had an excited tiny clap and Tilly rejoiced. Jenny nodded with a small smile.

“We’re happy for you Arthur! Oh my god, Arthur Morgan, gettin’ married…” Tilly giggles, putting her hands to her cheeks and clasping her hands in front of the skirt of her yellow dress.

Karen laughed. “Never thought I’d see the day,”

“Don’t listen to her, I mean we was hoping when we saw you two huddled up all the time,” Mary-Beth takes the ring from him, holding it closer, so that Jenny and Tilly can get a closer look.

“Hey, be careful with that,” he murmured, trying not to sound too desperate. He scratches his neck instead of snatching it back like his instinct wants him to. Evening is coming soon, purple dusk and soft coyote yipping and howling far in the distance marks the sun's descent. Meaning you’re probably finishing up whatever it is you’re doing. He hopes you don’t come around the corner at an inopportune time. Arthur turns his head this way and that.

“Where’d you get it? Looks new, ain’t scuffed to high heaven like everything else around here,” Jenny points out and the girls nod.

“Bought it in town,” playing it off doesn’t work so well.

They ‘ooh’ some more. “Fancy. Only the best for Arthur’s sweetheart,” Karen coos teasingly.

“Gimme that,” grumbling, he takes the ring back, bowing his head so they can’t see the embarrassment plain on his face. He meanders off after asking how things have been. Of course, they only give him updates about you, Karen jokes that that’s all he wants to hear about anyway. He scoffs and wishes them a good evening.

But the perfect spot is yet to be discovered. Evades him like just about nothing else. He almost gives up on the idea. He’s been taking you out, trying to get you in the almost perfect moments. Taking you out on the town in Blackwater was a good time, he bought you dinner and took you on a stroll down the cobbled streets, watching your face light up when you saw something pretty in a window, clutching his hand and pulling him in more. He almost proposed on the veranda at the Blackwater saloon. Only for a fight to break out at the poker table to interrupt.

Then he took you out to see the poppy fields in Great Plains. But he had let his anxiousness and his nerves overtake him. He had tucked the ring away. You had looked so beautiful standing among the flowers, it was perfect but he just…couldn’t. Instead, he wrote in his journal about his own cowardice. Wrote about if he should lock you to him for the rest of your life. If he’d end up leaving you a widow. Or if you were to be taken from him like Annabelle and Bessie. Leaving behind lonely men who longed for a woman gone from this world. Then he scribbled pictures of you, trying to draw the motion in your hair and in your dress and the beaming most enchanting smile he had ever seen.

Boadicea munched on the long wheat grass, waving in the wind while he kept a watchful eye on you, picking flowers in your pretty dress fluttering against the bright blue of the sky. You have a bunch of candy orange poppy flowers held together by your palms, a bright smile on your face. You walk to where he sits, leaning against the tree, next to a small broken down stone fence. Your smile falters when you see his pensive expression. You come close enough to touch. You dangle one flower above him before you tuck it into the frayed ropes banded around the crown of his hat. He lowers his head while you fuss. Smiling like a fool. You smile again too, sitting beside him. You both listen to the sound of the quiet plains, breeze in the branches above him. The shade is cool, light filters beautifully over your features, speckled like the back of a doe.

“Something has been going on with you, Arthur,” you state as pure fact, knowing him all too well. You had only really known each other a year and have only been together as a couple for six months but you knew him better than anyone else. You had let him be himself, let him just…be. He didn't need to say anything for you to understand him.

“I’ve just been… thinkin’ bout some things,”

“Really? I thought you said you weren’t very good at that,” you smile a little, nudging his shoulder. Hoping to lift his spirits with his similar brand of humor but when he hardly huffs a laugh, you frown. “Is it about you and me?”

“Yeah, in a way,” he says, unable to hide anything from you. Why should he bother? Saying no would make you more suspicious. Arthur closes his eyes and can feel the panic rising in you. He could have been better about saying it but he’s quick to deflect it away from his secret. “You happy with me?” low and grumbled, the severity makes his tone go way down.

“I don’t understand. Do I not seem happy? Arthur, I’ve never…I’ve never been happier than I am with you. You’re the kind of man any girl would be lucky to have,” You smile, leaning to face him. Softening up, your eyes track over his face.

He wanted to ask you right then and there. Tell you just how much you complete him. How lucky he was to have you, how there never was a happier time in his life. He doesn’t believe in that sentiment you have, he had failed the women in his life. But he had wanted to make a vow, to never leave you alone. It’s his own nerves that wrap tight around his hands, don’t let him reach in his satchel for the little treasure that will be your wedding ring.

“No, I just know I been gone, I don’t wanna ignore you. I just been busy,”

“You have things to do,” You sigh heavily. “I wish the other men would be as helpful as you. Sometimes, I watch Sean, Uncle, and Bill lay around all day while you’re out working. It doesn’t seem fair,” Your brows pinch in a small dissatisfaction with the idea. He smirks.

“I don’t know how much I trust Sean to get things done right. We’d probably eat nothin’ but leaded rabbit meat and whiskey if we left it up to that boy,” You giggle and nod. Happy to see him back in his joking mood.

“Arthur… You know I love you, don’t you?” God, those words make him shiver. Make his heart rattle in his chest. Could swear his insides turn about 3 times. So sweet, you look at him, hands on his thighs, leaning into his side. He opens his arm for you to tuck into, grabbing your waist to pull you close.

“Yeah, I do. Love you more,” he can feel heat flush up his neck and cheeks but he doesn’t care if he looks like a lovesick idiot. Your joy is worth it. The wind blows your hair over your shoulder, you let him sweep it back some more. Your pretty laugh when he bows over to lay you down on the grass makes him chuckle.

-

He’s finally found it. Montana Ford. A shallow spot in the river he discovered, looking for a short cut trying to cross from New Austin into West Elizabeth. He hated riding through the Del Lobo populated Thieves Landing, especially after they were catching on that it was Dutch and his boys robbed their stash two weeks ago. He sighed and then he veered off the road, looking for somewhere to cross. And the shaded river was perfect.

He stays there a moment, looking at the pretty grass growing alongside the water, the light glittering over the surface. The sound of the river rushing by fills his head pleasantly. You’d love it, you’d toss your boots aside and wade into the river, lifting your skirts high enough to hopefully not get wet. But you’d be wet anyway. He’d do it too, you made him feel like he was twenty despite his thirty some years on this earth.

He decides to sit and sketch it and write about you. Just how excited he was at how everything was coming together. He feels like a kid, sappy but too devoted to care very much at the small heart he puts on his map. He’s almost embarrassed of himself. Even with no one to see. He folds his map up and stuffs his journal away, whistling his horse over. With a soft word or two, he mounts up and continues on to his destination.

-

It's been three days since he found the spot he would take you to and he’s had a ring in his satchel that glares up at him every time he opens it to pull out a cigarette. Of course, just as everything comes together, Dutch insists he go scouting for some new venture, looking to follow a treasure hunter so they could rob him. It ends up being a whole lot of nothing from a bad tip but Dutch has a ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’ speech to try and lick his own wounds at Arthur’s expense. Arthur rolls his eyes. Feels his hands knot into fists.

“Maybe next time, it’ll be you runnin’ all over New Austin on some wild goose chase! And I’ll give you this bullshit. Wouldn’t that be just fine, wasting your goddamn time-”

“Arthur, calm down! I don’t have time for your complaining. Where is that girl of yours? Why don’t you blow some of that steam off with her? It’s obvious to me-”

“Dutch…stop pushing the boy,” Hosea remarks from where he’s reading a book nearby. Arthur postures to continue arguing and Dutch shoots a glare before waving him off. He looks to Hosea and backs away, huffing. But before he can go for a smoke to hopefully calm himself down so he could be with you, Hosea calls him over.

“So… have you popped the question?”

“No, I ain’t got time most days,” He sighs in defeat, dropping his weight on the seat next to him, resting on his knees, leaned over. He takes his hat off to adjust his hair before putting it back on. He hadn’t seen you in another two days on account of this stupid ploy to rob a treasure hunter who didn’t know left from right and east from west. What an idiot. But not nearly as foolish as he.

“Tomorrow, I’ll tell Dutch to leave you out of these plots of his. I’ll even tell Miss Grimshaw that she’ll be gone. Take her and ride away for a couple of days. I hope to see a ring on her finger when you get back. In fact, I’ll be expecting it!” Hosea has a smile on his face, the excitement is genuine. Arthur nods.

“And what if she says no?”

“Well you keep at it. Perhaps a little persistence is all you need but why do you insist on imagining the worst?” It’s as if after asking, he considers why Arthur might not want to change things irreparably, might have already put his heart on the line and had it thrown away before.

“Arthur, the sting of rejection must be pretty…pretty lamentable. But you wouldn’t be trying this hard if you really thought you didn’t have a good chance,” Hosea sets his book down. “Go get some rest… leave first thing in the morning,” Hosea pats Arthur lightly on his shoulder. Arthur looks up as Hosea wanders in the direction of his tent.

His heart does yearn to see you at his side, wearing his ring on your finger. To hear you referred to as Mrs. Morgan. But all he can see is an incredulous look on your face. ‘Marry? Me? Arthur, you must be joking,’ you laugh and laugh. You’d never be so cruel but whatever part of him hates his own guts imagines the scenarios with great fervor. The anger from the rest of his day and the anger at himself grit against each other. He growls low before marching off to his tent.

You’re already inside, looking very lovely, one of his mended shirts serving as something of a robe to wear over your underthings. You look up and smile. He could forget the whole world just by looking at you. You hum, scooting over in bed.

“Arthur…” the way you call his name, you hardly need to give him any pet names, just Arthur will do.

“Come out with me tomorrow. First thing in the morning,” He states. More like a command, the residual anger drips off his words. You look at him strangely.

“Alright but I’d like to know what all of this is about first,” You set whatever you were working on, perhaps brushing your hair as you set a horsehair brush aside. You give him a concerned look.

“Found that surprise,” he grumbles, sitting down and tugging his boots off. “Hope you’ll like it but…” he stops to tug his gun belt off, his suspenders too. Arthur rests his hat gently on the side table. “Can’t be too sure til I show it to ya,” You smile softly.

“I think if you think I like it, I’ll love it,” God, he hopes so. Anticipation bounces around in his head and in his lungs. He’s practically short of breath. How he’s going to sleep, he has no idea.

“Yeah?” you hum in agreement. Looking sleepy, he’s endeared by how your eyes blink slowly, how you wiggle onto his chest the second he lays down. Your hands rub down his chest and belly. You’re asleep in a matter of minutes. He almost wishes he had you for company still but he’d never wake you for something so selfish. Instead, he pets down your hair and listens to your breathing, the natural hush that covers the camp once it’s too late for much of anything but small chatter.

-

Like clockwork, he wakes early. He can’t remember falling asleep but you're softly murmuring, you won’t wake unless he expressly wakes you. He gives himself time to put on that shirt he bought and rub his hand over his face at how nervous and silly he feels buttoning it up. He pulls a jacket over it to hopefully hide how ridiculous he looks. The morning is a pale blue when he steps out, thinking to bring you coffee to wake you.

You dress, half asleep, when he comes back to you, humming into the cup he brought you. You wear something nice but not overstated. You put kisses on him to wish him a good morning after you’ve decided you’re cleaned up enough.

He helps you up on his horse, Boadicea already very used to you. The ride isn’t too bad and you certainly make it better, he’s quiet with nerves, responding as much as he can without getting lost in his thoughts. The sun has climbed up and blazed down on you for a while by the time you get there. But your face when you see his surprise is too precious, eager to slip off the back of his horse.

“Arthur, it’s so beautiful!” The summer sun is high in the sky, perfect for your plans as you tug your boots off. He ambles after you, hitching his horse to a tree. You’re already sighing and knee deep in the center of the river. Your stockings lay haphazardly tossed over your boots. You’re some fabled creature, come from somewhere else. He could see it. No woman shined like you did, at least not how he saw things.

Just like he imagined, he rolls his pants up and tosses his boots aside, the spurs jingle when they hit the ground. The light catches the river’s surface, shades of yellow and green, the earth's gentle brown. You’re excited to see him join you, taking his hand that he holds out to you, pressed to his belly and chest, just where you belong.

“You like it, sweetheart?” He mumbles, really fishing for compliments. He knows you do but he’d love to hear you say it.

“I love it, Arthur, how could you say I wouldn’t? Sometimes, you’re a silly man,” you laugh, sway with him in the river. Birds sing, the water is cool, it’s perfect. He pulls you up to a shallower part of the ford, the sun forms a halo around you, reminds him you’re pure heaven and he couldn’t let you go.

“I have something else for you,” his voice is shaky instead of the easy confidence he likes to portray himself as. You look up excitedly but the dazzling smile slips off your face, you're shocked as he pulls a ring from his satchel and kneels down in the river.

“I-uhhh…I-“ he had really planned all of this and didn’t think of a single word to say. He can't bear to look up, he’s sure he’ll lose his nerve. “I haven’t loved…anyone like I love you,” the ring looks tiny and pathetic in his fingers. They’re also calloused to hell but he continues anyway. “There ain’t anyone else for me in this world but you. I just wish I was a better man, you deserve more than I can give but… if you would have me,” he looks up and your hands cover your mouth and tears leak over your fingers.

He really had ruined everything, hadn’t he? How was he supposed to go on living with you? What would he tell Hosea? His face falls and his heart cracks but he’d be glad to take you back home and disappear for a few days.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, don’t know what I thought,”

“Arthur, just please…” you hold out your left hand. You wipe your tears, trying to compose yourself and when he sees your smile, your hand over your right cheek, he lets himself ease. “Nothing would make me happier than to be- to be your wife, Arthur, you are…you’re the best man I know,” you wiggle your fingers excitedly and he slips the ring over your ring finger. He stays stunned, kneeled in the water, his pants soaking it all up but he couldn’t care less.

The ring looks so perfect on you. He holds your hand, kissing it like a knight of old, looking at him down on his knee, still crying but that brightness in your eyes is all he needs. Your giggle makes him smile at you too. And you drop to embrace him, tucking into his chest, arms around his neck. You murmur his name, rub his back. Tangle your fingers in his hair. He settles with you, surrounded by your unmistakable presence, basking in it. Holds you tighter, trying to not squeeze the air out of you. He breathes you in, holding you through your overwhelmed clinging, wiping your tears on his shoulder.

You pull back a little, enough to kiss him, his relief is groaned into your mouth. He loses track of himself and slips, sitting in a river with you in his arms, giggling more into his kiss.

You sit with him on the banks, trying to dry out after he tipped over. So much for his fancy shirt. He thinks the both of you will look half drowned by the time he brings you back to camp but he isn’t sure he wants to go back. Just you and him for a few days sounds rather enticing. You keep looking at your ring, leaned into his shoulder. A pleased little smile blooms over your face. How can he not smile at how beautiful you look, hair wet at the ends, warm light casting its glow over you.

You look up at him, with a look that says you’re gonna cry again but you just give him a teary smile.

“I’m a lucky bastard, get to call you mine,” You wrap one tiny hand over his neck when you kiss him slow and deep, letting him consume the very air in your lungs, grip over your body to feel it. You moan just softly enough to pull on his need for you. But you part ways for you to continue.

“Did you really think I’d say no?” you give him a sad frown. As if upset that he would think such a thing of you. You brush your fingers against his skin. He looks away.

“You wouldn’t have been the first,” you sigh.

“Who could say no to Arthur Morgan?” You ask no one in particular but he huffs a small laugh.

“Many people,” a joking tone tinges his words. But then he dips towards the sentimental. “Don’t even remember, really, all I think about is you, darlin’…” You laugh before coming closer, unable and unwilling to part from him. He knows he’s a hundred and one percent sap but he lets himself melt in your presence.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t me,” you wiggle your left hand in his face. He chuckles a little at your cute little fingers. “I’m glad…it means I get you all to myself,” The joy is boundless in his chest, he could light the night like a lightning bug with the flame in his heart.

“Arthur, I… I… sometimes I don’t have the words to tell you how much I love you,” you lean onto him. He shakes his head with what he’s sure looks like a stupid grin on his face. He wasn’t sure this would be in the cards for him but here he is, with you.

“Every part of me loves you, honey,” is all he has to say, paling in comparison to the pure power of your own words over him. They tumble clumsily from his mouth but you pull him down for kisses anyway. Your teasing ‘do you?’ has him nodding between your giggles and wet kisses.

-

Thank you so much for leaving me this request, I loved writing it!! It was so much fun and I really had fun including some parts of rdr1 map that were really special to me and brought me back to when I was a kid playing that game 🥹🥹🥹🥲🥲🥲❤️❤️❤️ any feedback is appreciated and thanks for reading 🥰🫶

[froggibus]

hiiiiiii i just wanna say i love ur work so much. i was wondering if i could request a jason todd hurt/comfort fic. i recently had a really scary experience outside of a bar, and it has been taking a toll on me. maybe something like reader and jason fight over something silly, and then something like that happens to reader and he comforts them after and feels bad about the fight before? with a lot of fluff and reassurance. maybe he gives them a bath or something:) THANK YOUUUU

Never Let Me Go - Jason Todd

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn! reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst -> fluff

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: after an argument with Jason, you're left to fend for yourself outside of a bar

CW: attempted assault, attempted SA, chasing, slight violence, dissociation/shock (reader), arguing, alcohol, hurt/comfort, pet names (Jason calls reader baby/hun), bathing together, jason is snarky at first

sorry this took so long! really hope you're feeling better, but if you (or anyone else reading this) ever need to talk, my inbox is always open <3 i talk about my own struggles with ptsd on this blog, and i want everyone to be able to feel safe enough to talk about theirs, too

i tried to keep the assault scene short and brief, but i've also added cuts before and after in case anyone would like to skip it.

(title slightly based on this song)

“You know that stuff is pure sugar and no alcohol, right?” 

You roll your eyes when Jason gestures to your drink with a look of distaste, hiding his snark behind the rim of his glass. You’re tempted to remind him that the foamy beer he’s pounding back has even less alcohol than your Cosmo, but think the better of it. He’s in a bitchy mood, and there’s no point making it worse.

He’d gotten into a fight with Bruce the night before, and had practically gone on a rampage through Gotham’s underground. The anger radiated off of him still when he’d showed up at your apartment an hour earlier, even after he’d flashed you a tense smile and planted a tentative kiss to your lips.

You’d told him at least three times since then that he didn’t have to come with you—given the bar was around the corner from your home, and you could stumble home from it drunk, backwards and in your sleep—but Jason had insisted. As if you ever thought Jason would be able to relax knowing you’re out at a bar in the heart of Gotham, despite your assertions that you would only be having a couple drinks and maybe some chili fries.

You swish your glass around, watching the raspberry coloured booze slosh on the sides. “We can go home if you’re not feeling up to this,” you say gently. “I don’t mind.”

He gives his broad shoulders an irritating shrug. “You wanted to get out of the house, we’re out of the house.” 

Though he doesn’t say it, you can hear the unspoken words crackling through the air. What more do you want from me?

“But do you want to leave?”

Jason’s eyes narrow, black pupils forcing out imperial blue. “I go where you go.”

It takes more effort than you’d like to admit to resist tugging at your hair. Though it’s been years since he lived in Wayne Manor, and even longer since he studied under Bruce, the lessons he learned have never left him. Including this form of aggravating, diplomatic speech where his answers gave no answers at all.

“Whatever,” you sigh under your breath, crossing your legs and tilting your body back to your drink.

Jason scoffs, “whatever? Really?”

“Yes, really!” You’re grateful that the mix of conversations and the drone of 90s rock are loud enough to cover up your rising voice. “I just wanted to get out of the house for once and you’re being mean.”

“I’m being mean?” There’s a cruel smirk on his lips. “The only reason I’m here is because of you, so that you wouldn’t have to be alone.”

“I never asked for that.”

Your heart races painfully in your chest. You’ve never liked arguing, especially not in public when the both of you have been drinking and especially not when Jason is already chafing under the expectations of others. It’s a nightmarish combination that leaves electricity sizzling in the air and everyone in the room on edge.

He chugs the rest of his beer, not even bothering to wipe away the tiny bit of white foam that catches on the shadow above his upper lip. “Fine then,” he grumbles, and tosses a fifty onto the counter. “I’ll see you.”

He leaves no room for protest, already barreling his way through the tables. By the time you’ve even processed what just happened, he’s already at the door, back muscles tensing beneath brown leather as he yanks it open hard enough to shake the hinges.

You wait until you hear the familiar rev of his motorcycle before ordering another round.

It’s late by the time you decide to pay your tab and head home. Your phone has long since been dead weight in your pocket, but even if it weren’t, you wouldn’t have bothered to check it. There was a part of you that hoped Jason would come back, that he would apologize, but that part is about as dead as your phone is.

It’s brisk outside now, and cold rain sprinkles from above. The dark rain clouds block out the moon, dim flickering street lights the only light you can see. You take a long, deep breath that clouds the air as you release it, rubbing your freezing forearms. Home is just around the corner, but that’s still an eight minute walk. Minimum.

A groan slips past your lips as you lean against the outside of the building, peering into the dark streets for any sign of a cab. A rock skids across the ground to your left and you snap your head in the direction it came from.

A man saunters towards you, his body encased in shadows. “Need a ride?”

A shiver rises up your spine. You shuffle further to your right, trying to put more distance between you and the stranger. 

He doesn’t take the hint. He moves closer, purposefully slamming his boots harder into the ground to get your attention. “I said,” he repeats, “do you need a ride?”

“No,” you swallow hard, adding a quick, “thank you.”

You don’t know this man, but you despise him. You despise his imposition, the southern twang of his voice, the fact you’re instinctually polite to him so that you don’t risk pissing him off.

Despite your plea, he keeps coming towards you. “I reckon you do.”

The alarm bells in your head start to shriek. You shove off of the wall, stumbling only slightly before you regain your balance and take off down the sidewalk. It’s dark and though you can no longer see him when you glance over your shoulder, you can hear the pounding of his boots on the pavement behind you.

And then his cold, clammy hands lock around your wrist and tug you hard. You strain against his grasp, using your entire body weight to get away, to go anywhere but here.

He’s so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath, feel the warmth of his body. Not warm the way Jason is, but warm the way a fire you shouldn’t go near is. You cry out desperately. The bar is still within sight, someone has to come out, someone has to see.

“Why not just let me show you a good time?” He says, “I’m a really nice guy if you give me a chance.”

You drive your elbow into his arm and his grip loosens enough for you to tug away. You rip your wrist from his grasp, but as you do, you lose your balance and crash onto the dirty, wet Gotham pavement. With how cold you are and the adrenaline your heart is furiously pumping through your body, you barely feel the impact.

You can’t see the expression on his face as you drag yourself across the pavement, but you hear a low chuckle. You imagine it’s similar to that of a wolf zeroing in on its prey.

And then, a booming voice cuts through the darkness. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jason sounds pissed, but it's maybe the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. The most beautiful string of words in the English language.

The man spins on his heels away from you just in time to catch a harsh uppercut to the face. A loud crack reverberates through the buildings, and he goes down like a sack of potatoes on the concrete next to you.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, looking up at Jason through your lashes. “You’re—how?”

“Oh, baby. Baby, baby,” he sighs, dropping to his knees on the pavement next to you. His new jeans are probably ruined from touching the ground—as are yours—but that seems to be the least of his concerns right now.

He cradles your head in his lap, his hands trailing up your damp, aching skin for any sign of injury. You shiver, closing your eyes and letting Jason hold you. The adrenaline flooding your veins has not yet diluted, and the calloused warmth from Jason’s hands is the only thing keeping you from floating away.

“I didn’t leave, baby, would never leave you. I was waiting around back when I heard you and,” he sighs, “I’m so sorry.”

His words are faint, so faint, and more gentle than you’ve ever heard him speak. Though he clutches you tightly to him, the feeling registers as barely a whisper. And then you’re on your feet, propped up against his side as he helps you back to where he propped his bike.

Your mind is somewhere else now. You’d have completely forgotten about your own body if it weren’t for the frantic, rhythmic shove of Jason’s heart against his ribcage with every step you take.

You’re not sure how you got back to your apartment, but you’re sure it was through no small effort on Jason’s part. Your waist is warm from where his hand rests—he’s refused to let you go for even a moment since he saw you on that pavement. 

You shiver violently even after you return to the warmth of your home. Jason had wrapped you in his jacket but even that did little to stop the shaking. 

He cups your face, a soft intensity in his eyes. “Let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

You barely react to his touch, or to his words. It doesn’t take a genius to know you’re in shock—Jason’s seen it more than enough times in his lifetime to recognize it at a glance. 

The shivering, that faraway and glassy look in your eyes, the way your lips move as if they’ll form words but no sound comes out. Your pupils themselves have almost doubled in size from the adrenaline coursing through your system. 

He’d take the crowbar a thousand damn times if it meant he would never have to see you like this. He would give away all that he has, and all that he is, to never subject you to this kind of pain.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, and starts towards the dark hallway leading to your bedroom and bathroom.

You let out a choked gasp—the most sound you’ve managed since earlier—and Jason whips around. Blue eyes snap to yours, looking more like broken glass through the tears catching on your own lashes. 

Don’t leave, you want to say. Not even for a minute, not even for a second. But your words fail you, and all you have to fall back on is a gasp of air and the tears in your eyes.

Jason understands, though. “Let’s go together, then.”

He grabs one of your hands in his, and holds your waist with the other. You walk like that down the hall, Jason holding you tight and guiding you to your bathroom. He helps you settle down on the toilet seat while he runs a hot bath.

Jason has you sit on the side of the bathtub, only your bare feet resting in the warm water. He sits with you, his legs on either side of your own and his arms around your waist. Already, the shaking has subsided and your eyes have started to clear. Relief floods his system, wiping away the guilt that’s been bubbling in his stomach.

He waits a few minutes, before saying, “let’s get you out of those clothes and into the bath.”

It’s posed more like a question, his fingers tracing inquisitive circles on your hip. He’s asking, you realize, if it would be okay for him to help you undress. If you’re comfortable being naked in front of him right now. The kindness of the gesture has your shoulders dropping from your ears.

“Y-yeah,” you manage.

Jason keeps his touch firm, steady, while he peels your dirty shirt over your head. He has you raise your feet above the water so he can help you with your pants and underwear, discarding your clothes in a pile on the tiled floor. 

He squeezes your shoulders reassuringly when he sees you hesitate at the side of the bathtub before finally stepping in and letting your aching body settle in the warm water. 

It’s an immediate relief. The chill your skin has taken on, the ice running through your blood, starts to defrost. 

Jason watches you relax into the warm porcelain, your impossibly tense muscles finally loosening. “Feeling any better?” He asks quietly.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble quietly.

He grabs a washcloth from the drawer beneath the counter. “Hey, none of that.”

“I just,” you take a deep, shaking breath, “if we had never gone out tonight, none of this would have happened and you wouldn’t have had to help me and—”

Jason splashes warm water over your head. “None of that,” he repeats. “I don’t want to hear any of that.”

“But—”

“Nothing that happened tonight was any fault of yours.” He brushes the wet washcloth across your face, wiping away stray tears. “You did nothing wrong. I should never have left you, plain and simple.”

“It’s not your fault either, Jay.”

He strokes the washcloth over your forehead. “I’m supposed to protect you, hun. I didn’t do a very good job of it tonight.”

“Get in here with me?” You clutch his forearm.

He chuckles. It’s been a very, very long time since Jason Todd could comfortably fit in a normal sized bathtub, but for you, he’d do anything. He’s  gentle climbing in the bath behind you, propping his legs around the outside of yours so you can comfortably lay back on him.

It’s a cramped fit, it couldn’t possibly be comfortable for anyone—but Jason sucks it up for your sake. Despite the ways his knees ache from the angle he keeps his legs, it all feels worth it when you lay your head on his chest.

“Thank you for being here,” you say quietly.

He plants a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “For you? Anything.”

And you know he means it.

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

Masterlist | DC Masterlist

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

i’m obsessed with your declan fics! can we get one where the reader has to calm him down? it would be even more fun if they were mad/annoyed at each other but he can’t help but seek her out when he needs comfort 👀

Paradoxical.

you currently can’t stand the sight of each other. and yet, in this moment… yours is the only face he wants to see.

declan o’hara x female reader (nickname - lucky.)

warnings - smut. cursing. angst. unspecified age gap. yeeeeeearning.

word count - 4.6k

authors note - she’s back 💋. loooved this request, so thank you so much to whoever sent it!! i’m still on my rivals shit, so please join me in this never ending journey. never getting over this man <3

masterlist. inbox.

“How are you doing?”

You snuggle further into the pillows on the bed, popping another strawberry in your mouth to avoid the question.

“Lucky.”

“Hmm?”

“I asked how you are.”

“M’fine,” you answer as you chew, praying the subject gets changed. She clearly doesn’t believe you, so you sigh and look at her pointedly. “I’m being serious. I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

“Taggie.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What? No! I’d never think that.”

“Then why are you treating me like I’m oblivious? I can see that you’re not fine, but you keep lying to my face.”

Taking a deep breath, you exhale in resignation.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re caught in the middle of all of this, Tag.”

“I’m not-”

“You are. He’s your dad, I’m your friend. You are quite literally the middle man here.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” she counters, perching on the edge of her bed. “If I have to be the peacekeeper, I will be.”

“You shouldn’t have to be.”

“I know, but these things happen. I just… if I knew what had happened, I could try and fix it.”

“You can’t fix this, Tag. I promise you, you can’t.”

She’s quiet for a moment, tracing the patterns on your socks as she thinks.

“What happened, Lucky? I swear that whatever it is, I won’t judge you. I just want to know how it all went so… wrong. One minute the two of you were the best of friends, and the next minute you’re packing up your office and leaving without so much as an explanation.”

“It’s complicated,” you murmur.

“So complicated that you had to quit your job?”

“Yes.”

“He’s never going to find a better assistant than you, you know. Never. He doesn’t even want to look for one, says he’d rather do all the work himself.”

“Well that’s stupid of him. He can’t do all that stuff himself.”

“Exactly. He’s willing to put himself through all of that stress so as not to replace you.”

“That’s his foolish choice, Tag.”

She sighs in frustration, leaning back against the footboard of the bed.

“Did he upset you? Did he say something stupid? You know what he’s like, he often doesn’t think before he speaks. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation here.”

“It wasn’t him, it was me. I quit by my own volition. He didn’t upset me, he didn’t offend me… I just had to do the right thing, which was to leave. I know you’re trying to help, Tag, but you can’t. Not with this.”

Taggie finally realises that she’s fighting a losing battle, choosing instead to shuffle over so she’s all cosy in the pillows next to you.

“I won’t tell him you were here,” she whispers, bumping your shoulder with hers.

“Thank you. I’m sorry you’re caught up in the middle of all of this.”

“I don’t mind, honestly. I just wish there was something I could do.”

“Give it some time. It’s meant to heal all wounds, after all.”

She chuckles, resting her head against yours affectionately.

“Will you help me make some raspberry tarts? I need at least forty of them, and I could do with an extra pair of hands.”

“Of course I will. But if your dad comes home, I’m sprinting out the back door.”

“Alright,” she laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll help with your escape, if need be.”

✵  ✵    ��　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You’re tempted to smash your head into the bar top.

You’ve been debating the pros and cons of it for the last forty five minutes, actually.

The gala is bustling, bodies packed into the beautiful ballroom with barely an inch between them. Everyone has a drink in hand, the light from the chandelier glinting off of the champagne and whiskey poured into crystal glasses.

You’d said yes to the event when you were still Declan’s assistant - assuming that you’d go together, just like always. And now, here you are, standing on opposite ends of the room and avoiding each other like your lives depend on it.

A cool hand finds your waist, spiced aftershave hitting your senses and letting you know who it is before they even have to speak.

“Hello, darling.”

“Hi, Rupert.”

He spins you around gracefully, smiling at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“You look ravishing, as always.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself, you know. You scrub up quite nicely.”

“Oh stop, I’ll start blushing.”

You can’t help but laugh, accepting his arm as he offers it out to you.

“Come on darling, let’s socialise a bit. You can’t stand in the corner forever.”

“I can.”

“Not on my watch.”

He’s dragging you across the floor before you can process what’s happening, people passing by you in blurs of colour and sparkles.

“Dance with me.”

“Is this fun for you? Torturing me?”

“Oh, immensely,” he grins, hands finding your hips.

You reluctantly wrap your arms around his neck, looking at him with a quirked brow.

“Don’t you have a thousand other women you could be dancing with, Rupert?”

He spins you playfully, laughing as you shriek.

“I do, but none of them are nearly as beautiful as you.”

“Oh god,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Does that line usually work?”

“Never on women as smart as you,” he chuckles, swaying you gently.

You stare at him carefully for a moment, realising you know him too well when you instantly see through his carefree facade.

“Ask it, then.”

“Hmm?”

“I know that’s what this is. You’re going to get me all soft and relaxed and tipsy, and then you’ll ask me about Declan. You might as well just cut to the chase, Rupert.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re much too intelligent to think that I believe that.”

His eyes don’t leave yours as he tilts his head, getting a good look at you and your unwavering expression.

“Fine, you stubborn woman. Fine. I wanted to ask you about Declan at some point tonight. But only from a place of care and concern, not because I’m going to try to wrangle the two you of back together or anything.”

“Subtlety has never been your strong suit.”

“Forgive me for being confused, alright? You were joined at the hip, and all of a sudden you can’t stand the sight of each other. It’s just so unlike the two of you.”

You sigh deeply, dropping your head forward so it rests on his chest. Rupert’s arms tighten around you, silently letting you know he’s got your back.

“It’s complicated,” you explain, muffled by the material of the man’s shirt. “Stupidly complicated.”

“So complicated that it can never, ever be repaired? I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Blimey,” he half gasps, the sound vibrating through the both of you. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day, you bastard.”

Rupert laughs so loudly that people turn their heads to see why, the cadence of it completely infectious. Declan watches from across the room, unable to help himself from at least glancing at the two of you together so cosily.

“He’s currently watching you like some sort of bird of prey,” he informs, tilting your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes. “Whatever it was that happened, it hasn’t erased the fact that he cares about you. A lot. And I know for a fact you care about him.”

“Of course I do.”

“There we go then. Surely it’s nothing that can’t be solved with a bit of good old fashioned communication.”

“You’re a terrible communicator,” you argue.

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, shaking your head as you both sway to the music once again.

“If I had a pound for every time that applied to you, Rupert, I’d be a fucking millionaire.”

He twirls you outwards quickly, watching as the skirt of your dress billows with the breeze of the action.

“And if I had a pound for every time Declan has pretended to stare interestedly around the room this evening just so he has an excuse to look at you, I’d be a millionaire too.”

You ignore the way your heartbeat picks up at his words, choosing instead to focus on the steady rhythm of the music from the piano that fills the space.

“Maybe he’s looking at you.”

“No, Lucky. He’s always looking at you.”

You sigh in resignation, fingers fiddling with Rupert’s collar as you straighten out his tie.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to respond to that.”

“You’re practically his right arm. This separation, whatever its cause, is doing both of you more harm than good. I don’t want to push you darling, because that isn’t fair - but just think about everything I’ve said, alright?”

He stares at you expectantly, brows raised in questioning.

“Alright.”

The grin on his face is almost blinding, beaming out in all directions.

“Now, you look too beautiful to stand on the fringes. I will dance with you all night if I have to, if it means showing off this stunning dress of yours.”

“So charming,” you smile, shaking your head. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse, isn’t it?”

“You’d be stupid to,” he winks, still grinning like the devil.

You let him lead you further into the middle of the dance floor, chuckling as he spins you as you go. Your hand has just slipped into Rupert’s once more when you’re both startled by a crash coming from the other side of the room.

The two of you whip your heads around towards the source of the commotion, to see two men in undoubtedly expensive suits brawling with each other. One of them is throwing punches while the other can do nothing but take them, merciless at his opponents hands. Some people are shouting and screaming, trying to physically separate them, while others turn a complete blind eye to the ruckus.

“Fuck,” Rupert mutters, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the scene.

You’re about to ask what the hell he’s doing when you’re pushed forwards and given a clearer view of what’s in front of you, understanding Rupert’s panic immediately.

Ginger is on the floor. Declan is standing above him with bloody knuckles.

“Fuck,” you repeat.

You want to run in the other direction, desperate to not be involved with the drama. And then you look at Declan - the way he’s falling apart at the seams, nerves ruined and adrenaline rushing through his veins, clearly on the edge of something awful… and all of a sudden you’re walking towards the brawl, logic be damned.

There’s so much noise surrounding you that you can’t hear yourself think. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and your heart pounding against your ribcage in your sudden determination to get to the Irishman.

You’re yelling his name without even realising you’re doing it, shouting at the top of your lungs to fight over the commotion.

“Declan! Oh for fuck sake… Declan!”

Your voice somehow breaks through the noise like a sirens call, the familiar melody of it finding his ears like his favourite song. His eyes finally meet yours, and the rest of the room melts away.

You have a conversation without saying anything, so many words exchanged in such a short amount of time. The two of you have always been good at this - communicating in your own language, silently and easily.

You grab his injured hand and intertwine your fingers with his, pulling him away from the scene of the crime with determination. You cast a look back to Ginger, who remains on the floor with blood dripping from his nose, before dragging Declan through the crowd and towards the front door of the huge Manor House. You can hear Rupert trying to mitigate the situation as you leave, using his charm as he does best.

You make your way outside, yanking the man behind you in your path without so much of a glance backwards. You trudge through the gardens in your heels, ignoring the way the dewy grass brushes across the tops of your feet occasionally. Finally, after walking for what feels like hours but was actually mere minutes, you come across a bench, sheltered by an old stone wall and neatly trimmed hedges.

You shove him to sit down, still refusing to look him in the eye. Neither of you say anything, the evening breeze and two sets of lungs heaving all that can be heard.

“What happened?” you whisper eventually, reluctant to disturb the peace. “Who started it?”

Declan looks surprised that you’re speaking to him, failing to hide the shock on his face.

“Will ya sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

“You’re not the boss of me anymore, remember?” you half joke, sitting down anyway.

“Funny,” he says, completely deadpan. He looks at you carefully for a long moment, before continuing. “It was Ginger, obviously. I wouldn’t waste my time with him otherwise.”

“What did he say?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Matters to me.”

“Well it shouldn’t.”

“Right.”

You stare at your shoes, wondering why you even bothered to rescue him back in the ballroom.

“Fuck this, then,” you mutter as you stand up to leave.

A hand wraps around your wrist as quick as a flash, pulling you back to sit down where you were.

“No. You don’t get to just walk away from me, not again.”

“Tell me what Ginger said.”

“Tell me why you quit workin’ for me.”

“I already did.”

“Liar. You gave me a poor excuse that’s absolute bollocks. I don’t believe it for a second.”

“That’s your problem, then.”

“Yes, it is.”

You stare at him, completely exasperated by the events of the last hour.

“You can’t just punch people at galas, Declan. It’s a bad look for you, for Venturer, and for every member of staff that relies on you.”

“I know.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

He scrubs his hand over his face, clearly frustrated with both you and the situation at hand.

“He made some horrible comment about you. I fell right into his trap too, like a bull and a fuckin’ red scarf.”

“What did he say?”

He hesitates for a moment.

“Just… something crude about you sleepin’ with me to get to where you are. Called me a cradle snatcher, too.”

“You can’t be a cradle snatcher if I’m a grown woman.”

“Exactly. And it’s not true, anyway. We all know that.”

“So why did you hit him, then? If we all know it’s not true?”

Declan sighs, fatigue painting the sound.

“Because no one gets to speak about you like that with no consequence. And because I was angry.”

“At me.”

“At you. Yes.”

You fiddle with your fingers, entirely unprepared for the fact that you’re about to have the one conversation you’ve been completely avoiding.

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” you begin. “I’m sorry that it’s come to this.”

“Then what did you mean to happen, Lucky? Did you think that you could just up and quit with absolutely no warning, without a problem? That I’d just let you walk out? Did ya think I’d help you pack your things?”

“Obviously not,” you whisper. “I’m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not. Which is why I know that you thought about that decision long and hard. And that’s what I can’t seem to wrap my head around.”

“It wasn’t easy.”

He looks at you with pleading eyes, clearly desperate to resolve the issues between you.

“Please, Lucky.”

His voice is cracking just like his heart, breaking down the middle to allow all of his emotions to spill out onto the grass. You’ve never heard him sound like this. You hate it.

“I had to, Declan. For both of our sakes.”

“For fuck sake, can you cut it out?” he snaps, volume raising.

“Cut what out?”

“Speaking in these fucking riddles! I can’t even pretend that I have any idea what you’re talkin’ about. Please, whatever it is, however terrible you think it is… I just need you to say it. We’ll deal with the consequences. But I can’t keep goin’ around in circles, dancing around the subject constantly.”

You take a deep breath, bottom lip wobbling as you will yourself not to cry. You’re well and truly at the end of your tether, unsure of how much more you can take - or how much you want to. Deciding to throw caution into the wind, you exhale carefully before turning to face the man next to you.

“You’ll hate me. When I tell you.”

“I could never hate you. Never, Lucky.”

You get lost in your own head for a moment, staring off into space as you debate the best way to go about this. A large hand finds its way into your knee, comforting and grounding. His thumb rubs patterns into your skin where the slit of your dress is, warming you up from the outside in.

“I thought about it for a long time,” you begin. “A long time. Because being your assistant is the best job I have ever had, or will ever have. It was a dream, Declan. Even when we had a tough day, or week, or month, I always knew we’d be okay.”

He nods, his full attention on you.

“We were comfortable, me and you. Maybe a little too comfortable for a boss and his assistant, but in a good way, I think. I was settled, with you.”

He squeezes your thigh, urging you to continue.

“But then, I think we got too settled. People started to notice - which doesn’t matter, but they did nonetheless. I was sleeping over at your house, staying awake with you until the early hours, attending galas and events as your date. And I wasn’t sure what it was - the thing that was bothering me - until one day, it clicked.”

“Lucky…” he whispers, desperate for you to spit it out.

“I’m in love with you.”

The two of you sit the silence for a moment, listening to the breeze softly whip around you.

“That’s what clicked. And that’s why I quit. Because it felt like a conflict of interest, like a… betrayal.”

“A betrayal?”

“Yes. Like I was taking advantage, or something. And I didn’t think it was fair, for you, having me pining over you at work. I didn’t want you to feel pity for me, if you noticed eventually - I hated the idea of being treated differently by you, all through fault of my own. So I quit to get ahead of it.”

“Are ya done?”

“I, uh… yes?”

“Great.”

Declan surges forward, smashing his lips to yours with the most passion than you’ve ever experienced in your life. One of his hands tangles in your hair as the other cradles your face, pulling you as close as he physically can. His tongue slips into your mouth cheekily, allowing you to taste whiskey, cigarettes and the cool night air. Eventually, when you both need to breathe, he pulls away reluctantly, resting his forehead on yours.

“Did you do that to make me shut up?” you murmur, fighting to keep the smile off your face.

“Yes and no.”

He’s grinning like the devil, chuckling as the palms of his hands find your cheeks.

“Yes and no?”

“Yes and no. I took the action needed to stop you rambling. But I’ve been thinking about doing that for a long time.”

“… What?”

“Why do you think we got so comfortable, Lucky? It works two ways. You were just the only one brave enough to make a change - even if it was the completely wrong thing to do.”

“So you don’t hate me?”

“The opposite,” he laughs. “I can’t remember when it happened. I woke up one day and I just knew. And I knew that you’d never feel the same way, but I love being around you so much that I was willing to make that sacrifice. So I was a coward, and I stayed silent.”

“We’ve made this complicated. Too complicated.”

“Much too complicated.”

“But… it is. You were my boss, and you’re older than me, and I’m good friends with Taggie now, and-”

Declan kisses you again, sweeter this time.

“We can figure it out, Lucky. You know we can.”

“Maybe,” you whisper.

“And I want you to come back to work.”

“Declan-”

“I’m serious. I cannot cope without you. I will never find an assistant as good as you, and quite frankly, I don’t want to. I want you. No one else.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a conflict of interest, like I said earlier.”

“But it isn’t. Not anymore. Before all of this, we were two people in love working together. And when you come back, we’ll be two people in love working together.”

You can’t find it in you to argue, realising that he’s actually making a good point. If anything, it should be easier now that you’ve both communicated your feelings - no more skeletons in the closet.

“Tell me you don’t miss it,” he provokes. “Tell me you’re not even remotely tempted to come back.”

“I can’t.”

“Exactly.”

You take a deep breath, moving the hair away from his eyes tenderly.

“I’ll think about it, alright? I’ll have a think when I go home.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

He smiles like the cat that’s got the cream, entirely too satisfied with the outcome of this conversation.

“I know we’re in uncharted territory here, Lucky. But we can figure it out. You know we can.”

“I know. It’ll be hard, but… I know.”

You lean up to kiss him softly, sighing as your eyes drift closed. He winds a hand around the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he pulls you closer, trying to plaster every inch of his body to yours.

You lose yourself in everything Declan - the way he tastes, the way he smells, the way he feels underneath your fingertips. You want to strip him bare right here and memorise every curve of his muscles, every line in his skin, every mark on his face.

His hand slips further and further up the slit of your dress, gripping at your thigh as if he’s worried you’ll slip away. You’re half in his lap, draped over him on the bench as he still pulls you impossibly closer.

“I’ve dreamt of this,” he whispers against your throat. “Every. Single. Night.”

He kisses his way along your neck, revelling in the way you squirm at the feeling of his moustache on your skin. You grab fistfuls of his white shirt, crumpling it in your hands to try and give yourself some sort of anchor.

When Declan’s fingertips slip into your underwear, all you can do is sigh, resigned to the fact that you’d let him do absolutely anything he wanted in this current moment.

“We’re in public,” you protest weakly, both of you knowing you don’t want him to stop.

“We’re at the bottom of the garden, surrounded by three hedges and a wall. If anyone sees, that’s their fault.”

You drop your head forward onto his shoulder, parting your legs to give him a better angle. He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels just how aroused you are, practically vibrating with want.

“Are ya this wet f’me?”

You nod against his shirt, not trusting your voice.

“Oh, sweetheart. Well I can’t leave you like this, can I? That’d be cruel.”

He pulls your underwear to the side fully so he can slip a finger into you with ease, both of you groaning at the sensation. Sliding a second one in, you hold onto him for dear life, panting like you’ve run a marathon.

“Please,” you whisper. “Declan, please.”

“I’ll do anything to hear you say my name like that again, Lucky. Anything in the world.”

“Declan.”

He sets a steady pace, crooking his fingers as he goes to make sure you see stars. Your eyes are rolling back, lip caught between your teeth to stifle any sounds that threaten to escape.

“God, I wish I could hear how pretty you sound,” he groans, looking at you intently. “You can make as much noise as you want when I take you home. Promise.”

You whimper softly, bucking your hips up to meet his rhythm. The bench is cold underneath you, the air turning chilly, but neither of you pay any mind to it. You’re too far gone to care.

You grab Declan’s other hand and stick two of his fingers in your mouth, laving your tongue around them to keep you quiet. He moans at the sight, all deep and rumbled, the sound reverberating through both of you.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

All you can do is look at him with big, bright eyes, pleading with him silently to finish the job at hand.

“You want me to make you come, sweetheart? That it?”

When you nod, he picks up the pace of his fingers, thumb pressing circles into your clit.

“Have ya thought about this? In bed, alone, getting yourself off in the dark?”

You whine at his words, nodding your head in answer.

“That’s a good girl. Come for me, sweetheart. Come for me and I’ll take you home and fuck you properly, yeah?”

You see stars as you climax, gripping onto his shirt and his hand for dear life. He works you through it, murmuring filthy promises into your ear as he does it.

Lifting his fingers from between your thighs, he pops them straight into his mouth, both of you groaning in unison.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmurs against your lips, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Perfect girl.”

You shuffle sideways so you’re pressed into Declan’s side, two strong arms encircling you immediately.

“Thank you.”

“For the orgasm?”

“Yes and no,” you laugh. “For listening to me. I’ve been going insane trying to think about what I’d say to you if I got the chance to explain myself, but no words seemed to suffice.”

“I just wish you’d talked to me sooner, sweetheart. I’ve been going insane trying to get through life without you. Not to mention that office is chaos.”

You laugh gently, cuddling into him and his warmth.

“I’ll fix it on Monday.”

“Yeah? For definite?” he asks, hope colouring his voice.

“Yeah. Like I said - best job I’ve ever had.”

“You’ve just made me the happiest man alive, sweetheart.”

You grin as you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, all soft and sugary sweet.

“Besides. Someone’s going to have to sort out the inevitable mess that’ll follow you hitting Ginger at a charity gala.”

“Ah, I forgot about that,” he laughs, planting a kiss into your hair. “What would I do without ya, hmm?”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you smile, resting your head onto his shoulder. “Never again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You sit on the bench for a little while longer, both of you looking up at the stars that paint the sky in a canopy above your heads. You’re quite convinced you could stay like this forever, just the two of you in your own little universe.

There’s paperwork to be done, meetings to be had, deals to be made. But all of that can wait.

Right now, it’s just you and Declan.

The way it should be.

reblogs are gold dust, lovers!! reblog and circulate your favourite fics, and your writers will create more. simple. <3

[art3m1spng]

— There is really no other way of saying besides yes. I did, in fact, just decide to make a Dratchet fankid and upon that, I fear he has become my new fixation. Regardless,

{{ Meet Abrasion! Initially a medic under Ratchet, but has dropped his apprenticeship with him to be a swordsman like his sire. }}

— He is an emotionally constipated mess, to be honest. Bit of a people pleaser and perfectionist, but hey. It is called trying to please either your carrier or sire for your whole life despite really, they are both proud of you and you shouldn't have to feel so inclined to making them proud all the time for some validation. Yeah. He's that kind of traumatized, unfortunately.

— I honestly do highly encourage you guys (even the followers I suddenly have accummulated, like damn where did you guys come from /lhj) to ask questions about him in my question inbox. He will PROBABLY be my main source of content for now until I get something together. Just be sure your questions are appropriate enough for me to answer !!

Anyways, yeah. I'll be dropping more stuff with Abrasion here and there, so expect plenty of things to figure out about this angsty mech.

(A/N: Above art isn't mine. Left character is a SoundBlast fankid made by a good friend of mine; let's say there's things going on with them... ✨)

[wings-of-ink]

Chapter 5 is finally here!

Tumblr crew, please let me know right away if you see any issues with running the game. I *think* I fixed the issue with fonts not changing but I did the upload a different way so I'm paranoid. It works for me though.

This was a big one – do not anticipate your saves working. Such is the nature of a work-in-progress. Some of the code for early chapters had to change. I do apologize, I know it's a lot of content to click through.

I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know if you find any serious problems/errors – especially ones that break the game. I have tested it myself a few times, but I can only do so much on my own. I will be watching Tumblr closely for a bit, so if there are any urgent issues you can pop them into my ask-inbox.

This chapter was written using a different method. Mostly, it worked out for me and helped me find more typos and grammar issues, but I found more programming errors than normal. My hope is that all the major ones have been resolved. A game-breaking issue was found just this morning and took a few hours to resolve (it was a mess so I redid the entire section - peeps, if you see issues in the moment with Zahn let me know because they were my troublemaker, go figure).

A couple of new trigger warnings were added as well, so be sure to peruse the list if you may have areas of sensitivity. In the future, a couple of areas of this chapter may receive options to bypass segments with certain difficult content, so be advised that these do not have a skip function enabled currently.

Coming in the future…

Lunan is taking a break through the end of the year! I will still be monitoring Tumblr, answering questions, and resolving any technical issues of course. But I will not be writing chapter content. Some short extras may be posted in the meantime to Tumblr.

Each chapter will get a passage-by-passage check for typos and grammar issues before the release of Chapter 6.

A chapter skip function will be arranged so you can bypass content you've already read. This will likely be implemented before or with Chapter 6.

The release time for Chapter 6 is currently unknown but estimated for late Spring of 2025 (March-May *ish).

The Patreon will likely start up in January 2025 and will focus on early releases of new content and extras/POVs (including the spicy kind).

Thank you so much for sticking with me. I hope you enjoy this chapter and have fun with it!

~Lunan ^_^

PS: Also let me know if you find weird stuff in there that might be from testing, lol. I think I deleted all that stuff, but I am more than a little bit frazzled today and there is a real possibility that I left some garbage behind...

Itch.io Link:

[ifangirlalot]

AHH I luv Rich w a shy reader 🤭 Could u maybe do him taking shy!readers virginity ahahhsjdhebskfj

˗ˏˋ 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐇𝐘!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 ˎˊ˗ | starring richie tozier ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

~smut!~ [𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘:] mentions of prep fingering, oral (fem receiving) p in v, praising, just soft smut in general, sorry guys no filthy kinky stuff here this time <3

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

⋆ ˚｡୨୧˚ I think Richie actually would have took time to think out how he'd have sex with you for the first time, which is a first because Richie barely ever puts thought into anything. But really, that's only because joking about having sex is one thing, but actually doing it is like a different thing entirely.

⋆ ˚｡୨୧˚ Truth be told, Richie was nervous as fuck.

⋆ ˚｡୨୧˚ You're a virgin, he's a virgin, neither of you have ever done anything remotely sexual, so how the hell is he supposed to do this? He'd been talking a big game about how big his cock was for weeks now, what if his dick isn't actually as big as he thought it was?

⋆ ˚｡୨୧˚ Ultimately, he decided the best course of action was to do something romantic to make you feel comfortable. He invited you over when his parents weren't home, and right away you notice that he actually cleaned his room and had done a half decent job at combing his hair (which like, that's fucking pointless cuz like it's gonna end up messy anyways-) ⋆ ˚｡୨୧˚ Richie started off slow, putting his hands on your shoulders while he gave you an oddly sensual kiss. Usually he just kissed you kind of roughly, which usually lead to a French kiss. But not this time. ⋆ ˚｡୨୧˚ When he finally got down to knitty gritty, he was very careful, because he knew how shy and easily anxious you were. He was sure to ask you if certain things were okay before he actually did them, and asked for your preferences beforehand.

"Hey doll, can you touch here?" "Is it okay if I put my hand there?" "Do you want the lights off? It's totally fine if you do, but just so you know you're perfect and I'd love to see if you if you'll let me."

⋆ ˚｡୨୧˚ If you wanted the lights off, he'd respect your wishes immediately and flick them off. His breath would hitch as you slowly allowed him to take your clothes off, one piece at a time. His mouth would greedily yet slowly trail kisses along your stomach and breasts while his hands stroked and rubbed at your thighs. ⋆ ˚｡୨୧˚ He'd make sure to meet your eyes for consent as his hands ran up your thighs and thumbed at the button of your shorts. As soon as you nodded, Richie would eagerly unbutton and unzip them, tugging them down your legs in a slow, yet clearly excited gesture.

⋆ ˚｡୨୧˚ He would place a kiss over your panties before pulling them down as well and gently lapping his tongue over your clit, eliciting a moan from you. He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing? But based on the noises you were making, he assumed that was a good thing and continued with it for a few more minutes before slowly pulling his mouth away, his lips swollen and wet from your juices, before slowly inserting a digit or two between your folds to prepare you.

⋆ ˚｡୨୧˚ Richie would carefully watch your face, see the redness on your cheeks as you anxiously glanced at his bedroom door as though you were afraid someone would hear the lewd sounds and suspect what you and Richie were up to.

⋆ ˚｡୨୧˚ He was quick to assure you.

"Hey, babydoll, just focus on me, okay? My parents are out, no one will hear you I promise. Just me, baby. Don't worry your pretty little head about it. All good, I swear."

⋆ ˚｡୨୧˚ When he was finished prepping you with his fingers, he slowly undressed himself and removed his glasses with shaky hands. He took his time rolling a condom onto his length. He told himself it was so you had time to prepare, but really it was because he was nervous as all hell.

⋆ ˚｡୨୧˚ Soft, gentle strokes the whole time. His eyes are crinkled in pleasure while he breathes heavily and moans shakily. He's barely able to think straight, but he manages to ask how you're doing.

"Are you.. fuck, oh God oh fuck yeah.. you okay, baby?"

⋆ ˚｡୨୧˚ When you're both finished, expect Richie to be all over you, in the cuddly, I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, kinda way. After your first time, he'd be more protective over you, mostly because he feels more connected to you than he's ever felt.

[A Note From Zee] So, I'mma take a bit of a break on taking requests (since my inbox has like five more I have to answer, which I will get to I promise), but I have some ideas I wanna do first, thank you. My next post is probably going to be a Yandere Alphabet post since I saw someone else do it and decided I wanted to do it so. Look forward to that.