#just a random feller

[just-a-boxx]

Drew this as a warmup :] will go back to some more madcom stuff here soon

[gremlin-boah]

dutch tries to give someone a mango and they reject him and he goes 🥺

Take the MANGO.

Would you take the mango @vey-does-stuff?

[orange-fresh]

I/me/myself by will wood weirdly fits PvP Evbo and the song made me headcanon that Evbo is transfem so

[kri-babe]

[wakasagihimes-pond]

The funniest part of the one piece thing is that, for a lot of people, it just happened. Like, completely unexplained, one piece tab, here ya go!

[judas-officially]

things to do when understimulated; a unprofessional list made by 3 fellers who get under stimulated very easily but also overstimulated very easily

• knead your pillow like a cat

• start making random verbal noises (ex: lalalalala, flicking your tongue, random vocal exercises)

• tappy tap w/pencil or pen or whatever you have

• eat ice, I prefer Wendy’s ice but any works

• flex random joints of your body, I did this alot in school and now I do it subconsciously

• roll around on a fluffy rug, maybe just run your fingers on it

• if you have filtered or safe to drink tap water, drink out of that like a dog with a hose

• mind explosion music, i recommend stomach book, IXI, and sophiaaaahjkl;8901 (yes that’s the artists name) i usually do most these activities along with music as silence drives me insane

• run in place, wave your arms around, sway in place, just whatever physical activity you can do

• I really like being able to play an instrument bc then I can just grab it and start experimenting, sounds really help me personally but whatever floats ur boat

•watching Kurtis connor loudly with a weighted blanket or plushie on your lap, trust me this is like The Best Thing

•recommendation from askbox: wiggling around under a blanket or covers, using a bigol plushie as a pillow, and watching YouTube loudly

that’s what works for me, and I wanted to share it

this list will be updated when I think of other things, and also when people send me stuff to add

cheers!

[babyaiker]

I’m writing this at 5am but when @verdemoun “kieran duffy hyperfixation page” themself encourages you to talk about your now 5 month long obsession, you know you gotta,,, 

Mini break down of Kieran’s characterization in the Paying A Social Call mission, lets go

Before I get too far please know I genuinely have no beef with people who baby Kieran. He’s a fictional character and we’re all just having fun, I just really like analyzing the text ^^

In my last post where I talked about my favorite part of Kieran’s character, I briefly mentioned how the mission Paying a Social Call (the mission in chapter 2 where Kieran is freed) contains a lot of characterization for Kieran that a chunk of the fandom misses. It was when I was watching someone's random stream did I remember how much was getting left out. While I've seen plenty of people rant about Kieran's mischaracterization in the fandom, details from this mission were often left out of the discussions I personally saw. So while I really don't care WHO you interpret Kieran as, having an excuse to rant about the mission I could probably quote start to finish is fun.

Despite the circumstances Kieran finds himself in, he’s not a coward. He knows his worth and isn’t afraid to bite back at others for messing with him. The only reason he cowers and runs off is usually because he was physically hurt, threatened to be hurt, or knows the person he's talking to would gladly hurt him. We have evidence of him acting like this in maaany different ways through the hidden dialogue scenes in camp. His goddamn catchphrase “I ain’t no O’Driscoll” is an example in of itself, showing that he isn't just cowering and crying because of how he’s treated, he's actively fighting against it.

But now let’s actually get into Paying A Social Call, as the only thing Kieran does throughout the entire mission besides show the boys where Six Point Cabin is, is defend himself. 

The beginning of that quest is well… a beginning for sure. I’d probably be a mess too if I was starving and about to get my nuts ripped off. 

His whole “I ain’t no O’Driscoll” shtick only gets louder the second he’s untied. He’s as cooperative as he needs to be, but is gonna make sure everyone knows he isn’t happy about it. While there's a lot of snarky shit he can end up saying, the dialogue where he directly compares the Van Der Lindes to the O’Driscolls is something special. Like Jesus I would not be saying that shit in the predicament you're in right now! While you can still hear the unsureness in his voice, he’s not afraid to say it as it is. (I still find it interesting that even non Kieran fans will point back to that dialogue as foreshadowing and be like "aw shit the horseboy was right fellers")

Okok skipping ahead to the end cuz arughh there's a specific line said in the last scene that completely changed Kieran’s character for me. All I’ll say about the gunfight is that right before it, when John has his gun up against Kieran, while the camera pans to a group of O’Driscolls, you can see Kieran give Arthur a thumbs up when Arthur shushes him. It’s such a tiny detail but it amused me and my partner when we discovered it.

At the end of the mission, after Arthur realizes that Colm isn't there, he confronts Kieran at gunpoint, pretty much ready to kill him. Kieran of course acts like how we’d think he would,,, he promptly begs for his life. But once Arthur spares him and gives him the decency of running away, Kieran doesn't grovel back to him, begging to be taken back, he fuckin yells at him. He understandably points out that letting him go free is as good as killing him, as the rest of the O’Driscolls would likely have his head for this (didn’t like typing that). His very blunt, angry line of “So I’m one of YOU now!” genuinely made me rethink what I’d been assuming about him. It likely dawned on me while I was staring at the streamer’s “hose goat” cam, but just demanding a spot in the gang like that isn’t something a coward would do. He is incredibly firm in his “fuck you, you’re stuck with me now”.

Even his dialogue after is just more examples of him being very aware of his vicarious situation (Arthur: “Alright, but I’m warning you”, Kieran: “Oh, I know”) and being more than eager to start proving himself useful (Kieran: “See Arthur, I ain’t so bad!” ^^)

I genuinely think the whole “whiney useless baby” assumption comes from the fact we play as Arthur. Arthur VERY adamantly views Kieran this way, literally calling him a baby as a way of antagonizing him. And because most everyone loves Arthur, they’re bound to view Kieran the same way he does. Unreliable narrator kinda thing, though I'm not saying that's a bad thing in the slightest. And with the magic of RDR2’s actually good character writing, I can sit here for 700 words summarizing why Kieran’s actually kinda cool sometimes. 

So ya, I wouldn’t say Kieran’s a coward, but I’m also not gonna say he’s some crazy cool badass murderer outlaw. He’s a dude trying to survive who’s been kicked out of or lost every home he’s known. He’s still a silly guy I wanna lovingly snap over my knee like a twig. With the life he’s lived you can’t afford to be unable to stick up for yourself, he’s just smart enough to know when it’s time to lay low.

[woman-of-balnain]

Bold as Love Part 2 (Arthur x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 | Masterlist | A03 Ver.

Summary: A requested part 2, where the Reader gets back at Arthur for making her jealous.

A/N: @anyas-stuff, I hope it's okay. I wasn't sure if I was making him too dominant, and then later if he wasn't dominant enough lol 😅 Please let me know if you aren't happy with any of it and I'll edit it to your liking.

Warnings: Possessive Arthur, jealous Arthur, dominant Arthur, reader flirting with some random guy lol, Arthur punching and threatening said guy, swearing/cursing, smut, unprotected sex, spanking, creampie, no use of Reader's name/Y/N etc.

Word Count: 3,409

Divider by: cafekitsune

You were treading into dangerous waters as you flirted with the handsome man you’d spotted while in the Bastille Saloon. Arthur had noticed that you were still annoyed with him for going off to see Mary, so he’d taken you out of camp for the night, planning for you both to spend some time alone together in Saint Denis. But the saloon was filled with people, meaning Arthur had to work harder than usual to get the bartender’s attention.

That had given you the perfect opportunity to get back at him. All it took was spotting this attractive stranger - who was clearly interested in you - from across the room. You had made your way over to him, struck up a lascivious conversation and now you were seated in his lap, toying with him and waiting for Arthur to notice.

You played with the collar of the man’s jacket, while his hand disappeared under your skirt, trailing up the bare skin of your leg. You hoped Arthur would realize soon, before things got to a point where backing out would cause a scene.

“How ‘bout we find somewhere more private, beautiful?” The man spoke deeply, right by your ear.

You tried to think of a way to stall him. He was attractive, sure, but you had no real interest in him other than to incite Arthur’s jealousy.

“This feller botherin’ you darlin’?”

Speak of the devil.

You tried to hide your smirk, not wanting to give yourself away as you turned your head to regard him.

“No,” you replied simply. “We’re just talking.”

Arthur looked absolutely livid, and his gaze only hardened even further as the man snaked his other arm around your waist.

“Yeah, back off mister,” the man told Arthur, not seeming to realize that he knew you, let alone that you were together. “I saw her first, so I’m havin’ her first. You can do what you want with her after that.”

You tensed at his words, disgusted by the way he talked about you like you were just some shiny new toy that he got the first dibs on playing with. But you barely had time to truly react, because Arthur seemed to like it even less. He moved with lightning speed, pulling you away from the other man right before he brought his fist back and then slammed it into the bastard’s face.

“I best not hear you talk about her like that again,” Arthur warned him lowly, seething with anger. “’Cause if I do, I’ll do worse than just breakin’ your nose.”  

Your heart pounded with excitement as Arthur took hold of your wrist and you got one final look at the blood pouring down the man’s face before you were being pulled up the stairs and towards the hotel room Arthur had booked. You let out a startled gasp as your back was pushed against the wall of the room after you entered it.

Arthur’s gaze was dark with both anger and possessive desire. You couldn’t stop the small smirk that played across your lips, as you realized that you had successfully brought out his jealousy.

“Did you forget you’re mine, darlin’?” He asked in that deep and gruff tone of his.  

He was pressed right up against you, his eyes heated as one of his hands moved to your collarbone. Arthur’s fingertips brushed over your skin, teasing in the way that he was barely touching you, but providing just enough contact to leave you wanting more.

“Are you jealous?” You asked him playfully, attempting to mask the way his touch always got to you.

“He had his hand up your skirt,” Arthur practically growled out. “I’m the only one who gets to touch you like that.”

His answer only confirmed your suggestion, even though he didn’t outright admit it. You reveled in the raw possessiveness that you found in his gaze, feeling yourself already becoming wet with anticipation. You tried to bite back a moan as Arthur began hiking up your skirt until your bare legs were revealed.

“Where did he touch you?” Arthur’s fingertips trailed softly over your knee. “Here?”

“Mmm hmm,” you nodded slowly, eyelids drooping slightly as you bit down on your bottom lip in open desire.

“What about here?” He moved his hand further up your thigh.

“Yes.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed with annoyance, but his touch kept travelling further upwards until he reached the very top.

“You better not have let him touch you here, darlin’,” Arthur warned you lowly, his hand cupping your now dripping wet pussy.

“What if I did?”

“I’ll go back down there and kill the son of a bitch.”

You should have found that to be a turnoff and you should have felt shame due to the fact that it only filled you with more desire for your man. But you felt neither of those things and your pussy just got wetter at the possessive fury Arthur was exhibiting.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare tell me you’re this wet for anyone but me.”

“What? I’m not allowed to have a little fun with someone else?”

You were referring to him going off to see Mary, of course. The number of times your mind had tortured you with imagined images of what the two of them might have got up to in that dark theatre left you rightfully angry.

Yet, you realized with satisfaction that Mary seemed to be furthest thing from Arthur’s mind in that moment. He didn’t seem to pick up on your insinuation and instead he just seemed to get angrier at the idea of you wanting any man who wasn’t him.

“You’re mine,” he reminded you again. “And you’re gonna prove it to me.”

Your eyebrows raised in question, but he didn’t give you time to think over and guess at what he might mean. Arthur took hold of your wrist again, pulling you over to the bed and unceremoniously pushing you down onto it. Then, his hands were on you, unfastening the belt around your waist, which kept your skirt up.

You were quick to work on removing your blouse as well, flinging it off to the side at the same time Arthur pulled the skirt down your legs. Once you were naked before him, he took a moment to eye you up and down with open lust before his gaze hardened again.

“Turn around.” He ordered.

“Or what?” You challenged. You were still unwilling to give in, partly out of pride and partly because you wanted to see how far you could push him and just how possessive and dominant he could get.

“Don’t make me ask again, darlin’,” he warned. “Or it’ll be ten instead of five and I’ll keep goin’ up ‘til you listen.”

Ten what? You wondered.

You did as he said though, turning around until your stomach was pressed against the bed.

“Lift up your hips,” he continued instructing you.

You lifted them up, resulting in your ass being presented to him.

“That’s it,” he praised. “My good girl.”

You felt the coarseness of his calloused hands smoothing over your exposed ass, his fingertips trailing over the naked skin before he squeezed down appreciatively. Then, he moved his touch down to your dripping folds, stroking along the slit of your pussy and then up to your clit, causing your legs to shake with need.

“That feel good, darlin’?”

“Mmm,” you couldn’t form any words as your body became desperate for more.

“What was that?” Arthur teased you by pulling his hand away. “Tell me.”

“It feels good,” you moaned out, pushing your hips up even further in an attempt to have him touch you again.

“What does?”

“You…” the reply was breathless and filled with desire. “Touching me.”

“Good girl,” you could practically hear the smirk he must’ve had. “Just my touch, right darlin’?”

You managed to regain some of your stubbornness now that he had relinquished his touch, so you bit back a little.

“Maybe…”

Yet, you were surprised when Arthur didn’t verbally respond straight away, and the only thing you could hear was the sound of him removing his gun belt. You went to turn your head and look at him, but Arthur was quick to give you another order.

“Eyes forward, sweetheart.”

You did as he said, waiting with anticipation as you heard him place the belt on the dresser before the sound of clothes rustling filled the room. Then, Arthur’s body was bending down over yours, pressing against you until his lips were right by your ear. You realized that he had stripped as you felt his hardened length against your lower back.

“I want you to count for me gorgeous,” his deep and gravelly voice spoke into your ear. “Can you do that for me?”

“What?” You asked in confusion.

“You’ll know when to start,” was all he said in response.

Then Arthur was pulling back, and you expected to feel his cock thrusting into you fast and hard. You were aching to have him filling you up, deep inside. But you weren’t expecting to feel the forceful and sharp slap of his hand against your ass. A shocked sound – something between a moan and gasp – escaped your lips.

“I told you to count, darlin’,” he reminded you. “If you forget, this’ll just take longer.”

“Oh, fuck!” You moaned out, realizing that he was going to make you endure this at least another four times.

The sharp sting of his hand against your skin was shocking and gave you just the slightest twinge of pain, but it also made your pussy even more wet and needy for him.

“You got a dirty mouth, gorgeous,” he chuckled darkly. “But that ain’t what I wanna hear right now.”

He spanked his hand down again, his free one holding your hip to steady you.

“T-two,” you got out.

“No, sweetheart, that was one.”

You groaned, realizing that he was serious about drawing it out even longer if you lost count.

“One,” you corrected yourself, your pussy clamping down on nothing as you yearned to have him just fuck you already.

“Good girl,” he praised, squeezing down on your hip.

“Oh, Christ! Two…”

He had brought his hand down again and the sweet mix between pain and pleasure was already too much to bear.

“Look at you darlin’,” Arthur admired the sight of you. “Your pussy is soaked. Is this turning you on?”

“Please, Arthur,” you begged, noting how he had stopped. “I need you inside me.”

“You sure?” He asked, making you frown.

“Of course, I’m sure!”

“You don’t want that feller downstairs?”

“No,” you insisted. “I just wanted to get back at you… Make you jealous too…”

“Oh darlin’, I ain’t jealous,” Arthur told you lowly. “I am god damned furious.”

He brought his hand down again, a little harder this time and you scrambled to get out the word ‘three’.

“You’re mine,” he said yet again. “All mine.”

Your only response was another deep and desperate moan, so he did it another time, forcing you to continue counting.

“Say it, darlin’,” he coaxed you, his fingers soothing your skin by tracing lightly over where he had been spanking you.

“I’m yours,” you breathed out. “Just yours.”

Then you were crying out in euphoric bliss as he pulled back and finally thrust into you, deep and hard.

“Don’t forget it sweetheart,” Arthur warned you. “You do that again, and I won’t leave the bastard alive.”

Your hands balled into fists, clutching tightly at the sheets as he continued to pound into you.

“Your body is attuned to mine,” he grit out, quickly becoming lost in his own sense of desire. “You think another man can make you feel like this?”

“No,” you breathed out, knowing he was right.

He didn’t even have to touch you. Just one heated look, or the way his voice deepened and got rougher with arousal was enough to make your body yearn for him.

“Shit, darlin’,” he groaned, finally giving away just how badly he needed you too. “You’re always so tight around me.”

Arthur faltered just briefly, taking a second to enjoy the way your pussy wrapped around him so snugly, before he pulled all the way out and then slammed back in again. Your entire body seemed to thrust forward from the force of it and you could no longer hold back the constant and eager sounds that left you.

“That’s it,” Arthur encouraged you huskily. “Don’t hold back, darlin’. I want everyone here to know what I do to you.”

You bent your head down, letting it rest against the bed as the feel of his velvety but rock-hard length against your walls brought you closer and closer to the edge. You were so wrapped up in the fact that he was finally deep inside of you, that when his hand slapped your ass again, gentler this time, you almost forgot his earlier instructions. But you managed to moan out the number ‘five’ in time and then his hands were on your hips again, using his grip on them to give him leverage as his merciless rhythm continued.

“You’re close, darlin’,” he observed. “I can feel it. What do you need?”

You could only moan in response, but Arthur didn’t seem to mind. He knew your body just as well as he knew his own. He lifted you up until your back was pressed to his chest and then one of his hands gently held your throat, while the other slid down your body until it reached the apex of your thighs.

“You need me to touch you?” Arthur guessed, brushing his fingers ever so slightly against your clit. “Right here?”

“Oh god,” you moaned. “Please Arthur…”

“Tell me.”

“Please touch me. I need it so badly.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder. “Whatever you need.”

Arthur pressed down harder, his fingers rubbing in circular motions over your clit. Your pussy reacted instantly, squeezing down even harder on his cock. He moaned, tilting his head to give you another kiss, this time to the crook of your neck.

“Come on, darlin’,” he coaxed you. “I need to feel you cumming around me.”

He lightly pinched your clit, applying just enough pressure to cause a wave of pure bliss to wash over you.

“Arthur…” you moaned out.

“Shit,” he cursed.

Arthur held your hips tightly, keeping himself buried deep inside while your pussy spasmed perfectly around his cock. He loved the way it felt when you came undone, knowing that it was him who did that to you. Your legs shook and your head fell back to rest against his shoulder as your orgasm left your mind and body reeling. Arthur gave you time for your body to settle again before he was slowly pulling out of you and turning you around to face him.

He hadn’t cum, so you knew he wasn’t done with you yet and you moved to lay back on the bed. Arthur followed, his perfectly chiseled body caging you beneath him. You spread your legs, allowing him to settle between them and you let your eyes move slowly down to look at his chest and the light hairs that spread across it.

Then your gaze descended further, taking in his long and thick cock, still achingly hard. You reached out, wrapping your hand around him and lifting your hips to line him back up. Arthur didn’t waste any time, thrusting quickly back inside you.

“Sweetheart,” he moaned, lowering his head until his forehead rested against yours. “You drive me crazy.”

He moved a little slower then, no longer setting the brutal and ruthless pace from before. Now, he allowed himself to take in every little feeling and sensation, like he was savoring the way your body fit his so perfectly.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

You felt slightly bad for making him so angry, even if it did mean that you’d successfully gotten back at him.

“Just don’t… forget… darlin’,” he murmured between thrusts. “I ain’t gonna… let you go. ‘Specially not to a… son of a bitch… like that.”

He brought his hands to yours, entwining your fingers together and using the grip he had to move his hips quicker and deepen his thrusts.

“You’d better not,” you grit out, your back arching a little from how deeply he was filling you up. “Just like… you’d better not see that… bitch again…”

Arthur just let out a light, amused laugh and it surprised you that he didn’t seem bothered by you cursing her out for once. Then he dipped his head and caught your lips in a fervent kiss, pressing his tongue against yours while he continued his steady but passionate rhythm. The way his cock moved in and out repeatedly, with his hips smacking against yours in desperation, caused that fire to build up in your lower belly again.

You met his thrusts eagerly, loving the feel of his naked and toned chest pressing against your hard nipples, teasing them and the rest of your body even further. You were both covered in a light sheen of sweat, bodies tangled together and desperate for release.

His taste filled your mouth, a mix of whiskey, tobacco and just a hint of the mint he often chewed. Along with the little sounds of pleasure he was letting out, it all meant that you were totally and utterly consumed by Arthur.

He gave one last lingering and deep kiss to your lips before pulling back, releasing his grip on your hands and taking hold of your thighs instead. He picked up the pace again and you realized how close he was. His hips moved rapidly, pounding into you forcefully and your body writhed in ecstasy beneath him.

You peered up to watch him through hooded eyes, seeing the way his own were squeezed shut and his mouth was slightly agape with open lust and desire. Then you looked further down your body and observed the swift way his cock slid in and out of you.

Paired with how it felt, tantalizing your sensitive walls with every stroke, brought you to a state of elation once again. Arthur was getting louder now, unable to hold back the moans and groans of pleasure that rose deep in his throat.

The way he lost control and began to unravel whenever he was close to cumming always turned you on. He threw his head back, muscles flexing slightly as he continued to smack his hips against yours. The sounds coming from him were now becoming more unrestrained and guttural. You were so close as well and when you clamped down even tighter around him, in a vice like grip, he thrust all the way forward, burying his cock completely inside you and holding himself there.

You both let out a simultaneous moan and as the first spurts of his cum filled you up, another orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy milked him, convulsing around his length and making Arthur get completely lost in the feel of you as more desperate sounds escaped him. His cock throbbed inside you, further stimulating your sensitive walls and keeping you in a state of euphoric bliss until his body finally began to settle.

When you looked up at Arthur again, he had a small but content smile playing across his lips, and he regarded you with deep affection. Then, he leaned down again, bringing his body closer to yours so that he could look you right in the eye.

“We good now, darlin’?” He asked, voice still deep and gravelly with unadulterated lust. “’Cause I can’t handle seein’ you like that again, ‘less it’s me you’re wrapped around.”

“We’re good,” you promised him, reaching up to run your fingers over his cheek, the coarseness of his short beard tickling your skin. “Although, jealousy does look good on you.”

You let out a light, playful laugh, showing that you were just teasing him.

“I ain’t jealous,” he insisted once again.

“Sure,” you nodded, still unable to hide your smile.

But Arthur was quick to wipe the smirk of your face, causing it to melt into an expression of desire once again as he stole another kiss from your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and forgetting about everything else but him.

--

--

[thelastspeecher]

Weird Little Critter - Chapter 6: Transitions, Part 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 AO3

Here's the final part of what was meant to be one chapter but turned into three! I would normally space it out a bit more from the previous one, but I'll be going on vacation soon, and I wanted to get this posted before then. Here's this year's final chapter of "Weird Little Critter" from @elishevart and me. Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

                 Banjo reclined on the dock at Lake Gravity Falls, looking up at the clouds slowly lumbering across the bright blue sky.  His feet, freed of their shoes, dangled over the edge, dipping into the water, as did Stan’s.

                 “So, you bait a hook like this,” Stan said, drawing his attention.  Banjo looked over at him.  Stan was holding out a hook and a wriggling gray worm.

                 I know that kind of worm ain’t gray.  It’s pink.  Darn colorblindness.  Banjo tilted his head, a small smile playing around his lips as he watched Stan’s demonstration.  At least Stan’s charm ain’t affected by his color palette.  When Stan first came to stay with them, Angie had clashed with him constantly.  But there was something about him.  Stan just kept worming his way into Angie’s good graces with his cheesy sense of humor and random moments of kindness and warmth.  The budding emotions Angie had felt towards Stan weren’t changed now that she was Banjo.  If anything, they seemed to be stronger.  I ain’t sure what that could mean ‘bout me.  Banjo looked across the lake.  The dark blue water rippled lazily.  But I also ain’t sure if I want to open that door or leave it alone.

                 “Think you can do it yourself?” Stan asked.  Banjo rolled his eyes.  He sat up, grabbed the other fishing rod, and quickly baited the hook flawlessly, then cast it out into the lake.  Stan’s jaw dropped.

                 “I told ya I don’t like fishin’, not that I can’t do it,” Banjo drawled.  Stan grinned.  A faint blush spread across his cheeks.  Banjo felt his own face warm slightly in response.

                 “I thought you would be a bit squeamish about baiting the hook,” Stan said.  Banjo laughed.

                 “Stanley, I grew up on a farm.  I slaughtered my first chicken at five years old.”

                 “Oh.  Right.”  Stan laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.  “I forgot you grew up on a farm.  I just thought- you were a girl and-”  Stan cut himself off.

                 Smart move, feller.  You were headin’ fer dangerous territory there.

                 “I shoulda figured you wouldn’t mind the worms and stuff.”  Stan cast his own line.  “Why don’t you like fishing?”

                 “I don’t got the patience fer it,” Banjo sighed.  “I’ve always been what my folks called ‘spirited’.  Which is code fer never sittin’ still.”

                 “I know exactly what that’s like,” Stan said.  He coughed.  “So, uh, hate to break it to you, but I’ve got an ulterior motive for asking you to go fishing with me.”

                 “Oh?”

                 “Yeah.  Uh.”  Stan sighed.  “I need to ask you some stuff about when Ford is normally in his lizard form.”

                 “Salamander.”

                 “Same difference.  Anyways, what do you guys do?”

                 “Hmm?”

                 “During full moons.  When Ford’s not human.  What do you guys do?”

                 “Well, I ain’t been ‘round fer many moons yet,” Banjo said hesitantly.  “But we mostly do research on him, either in his study or the livin’ room.”  Stan swatted away a fly that was buzzing around his head.

                 “And by research you mean…?”

                 “I write down observations ‘bout him.  Things to help figure out more ‘bout his condition, y’know.”

                 “So no fun,” Stan said flatly.  Banjo frowned at him.

                 “It might not be yer idea of fun, but remember, we’re scientists.  We find this sort of thing quite fun.  And it’s to better understand his condition, so’s it’s two birds with one stone.”

                 “Okay, hear me out.”  Stan seemed to be choosing his words carefully.  “I get the two of you nerding out being nerds and actually liking doing research.  But…would it still be fun if you were the one being researched?”

                 “I…”  Banjo swallowed.  The question was simple, yet ominous.  “I don’t rightly know.”  Stan nodded.

                 “I’m gonna tell you what I know,” he said.  “After we got home last night, when Ford was all gray, I gave him some food.  I expected him to just go to his tank or something.  But he stayed with me, curled up on my lap while I watched TV.”

                 “I walked by later to grab some water.  I didn’t see him on yer lap.”

                 “Yeah, ‘cause he scurried away when you went through the room,” Stan said.  Banjo’s blood ran cold.  He could feel the color draining from his face.

                 “He- he was scared of me?”  Banjo set aside the fishing rod.  He put his head in his hands.  “I- I-”  The idea was foreign to him.

                 My whole life, I ain’t never scared a single soul.  ‘Cept that one time I sleepwalked into Fidds’ bedroom.  How could I have scared Stanford?  Tears began to prick the corners of Banjo’s eyes.  I didn’t mean to!  He’s my friend!  A warm hand rested on his shoulder.  Banjo looked up.

                 “I don’t think you scared him,” Stan said softly.  “I think…”  Stan sighed.  “When we were kids, our parents took Ford to a million doctors because of his hands.  He got better about it when we got older, since he stopped being poked and prodded as much, but I don’t think he ever really got over his fear of doctors.  I wouldn’t be surprised if he still tries to put off appointments for as long as he can.”

                 “You think that my studyin’ him is bringin’ up bad memories?” Banjo asked.  Stan nodded.  “But- but he was the one what wanted me to study him!  He wanted to learn more ‘bout his condition!”

                 “He probably didn’t think it through,” Stan said.  “Everyone does stuff without thinking sometimes.”

                 “Fair enough,” Banjo mumbled.  Stan squeezed his shoulder.

                 “All I’m saying is that it might be a good idea for you guys to take a break from the research stuff.  I know you couldn’t see him gray, but it was- it wasn’t great.  I don’t wanna see him like that again.”

                 “Agreed.”

                 “And who knows, maybe he’ll stop being so down on his salamander self once he gets to experience it without being a test subject,” Stan said cheerfully.  Banjo managed a small smile.

                 “That would be nice.”  Banjo elbowed Stan.  “Hey, you called him the right kind of critter!”

                 “I listen, I just don’t care,” Stan said with a shrug.  Banjo laughed.  The bobber of Banjo’s fishing rod wiggled briefly, then began to move.  “Looks like you’ve got a bite!”  Without warning, Banjo’s fishing rod, resting on the deck beside him, shot off.  Banjo attempted to grab the rod rocketing away from him.  His eyes widened as he felt himself begin to topple forward.

                 Shoot!  My center of gravity ain’t what it usually is!  It was too late.  Banjo hit the cold water of the lake.  A split second later, he heard a faint splash.  A large arm wrapped around his torso, pulling him to the surface.

                 “You okay?” Stan asked.  Banjo stared at him.  Stan’s long, dark hair was soaked, sticking to his face and neck.

                 “Why’d ya jump in after me?” Banjo asked numbly.  Stan blinked.

                 “You didn’t grow up near the ocean like me.  I didn’t know if you knew how to swim.”

                 “Wh-”  Banjo covered his mouth, trying to muffle the laughter bubbling up from his chest.  “S-Stanley, I grew up swimmin’ in lakes just like this one!”

                 “Oh.”  Stan winced.  “Right.  I guess I didn’t think.”

                 “It’s okay.  I didn’t either.  I should’ve known better ‘n to try to grab somethin’ what was already off the dock.”

                 “I’ve never seen a fishing rod move like that.  Maybe it’s best that you didn’t catch it.  Who knows what was on the end of the line?”

                 “In Gravity Falls?  Just ‘bout anything you can imagine,” Banjo said.  He reached out for the dock and gripped it.  A few wooden splinters dug into his hands as he pulled himself up.  Beside him, Stan was doing the same thing.  They sat on the dock for a few moments before bursting into laughter.  “I can’t believe ya went in after me instead of just waitin’ fer me to surface!” Banjo chuckled.

                 “Sue me for not wanting you to drown,” Stan said, punching Banjo’s shoulder playfully.

                 “I’m a grown adult!”

                 “I don’t know your life!  How was I supposed to know they teach you how to swim in whatever podunk town you come from?” Stan retorted.  He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it to one side of his head.  Their laughter slowly died down.  “Guess we better go back to the house and dry off.”

                 “Yeah.”  Banjo slipped on his blessedly dry shoes.  “Bein’ in wet jeans is awful miserable.”

                 “Wanna come back to the lake to fish after we change?” Stan asked, putting on his own shoes and socks.  Banjo cocked his head.

                 “I don’t know ‘bout fishin’.  But we could come back and go fer a hike or somethin’.  Did ya know there’s a secret cave behind the waterfall?”

                 “Really?”  Stan’s eyes widened with interest.  He leaned in, ever so slightly.  Banjo’s breath caught in his throat.

                 No, no, don’t think ‘bout his wet T-shirt stickin’ to his chest, don’t think ‘bout his hair draped over one shoulder, don’t think ‘bout the sun shinin’ off the water droplets on his skin.  Banjo swallowed.  Welp.  Given I just explicitly thought out all of that, I ain’t doin’ a great job not thinkin’ ‘bout it.

                 “I’m not usually into hikes,” Stan said, not noticing Banjo’s reaction to his close proximity.  “But a secret cave?  That actually sounds interesting.”

                 “Oh, g-good,” Banjo stammered.  He could feel his face burning.  Stan stood up.  He held out a hand.  Banjo took it.  Stan pulled him to his feet.

                 “Let’s head to the car.  I’m already getting sick of being soaked.”  The two headed down the dock, water dripping from their drenched clothes.  “How much you wanna bet Ford’s still in his room when we get back?”

                 “Ugh.  I ain’t takin’ that bet.  From his tone earlier, I get the feelin’ he’s only goin’ to leave fer food.”  Banjo sighed.  “Which stinks, since I want to talk to him ‘bout what we talked ‘bout.”

                 “Maybe you should set up camp on the couch,” Stan suggested.  They got to the car.  Banjo frowned down at the ground while he waited for Stan to fish out his keys.

                 “I might just do that.  All I can do is hope he gets hungry enough to go to the kitchen ‘fore I fall asleep.”

—--

                 Ford’s vision was somehow better in the dark than in the light, he was discovering.  As he made his way to the kitchen on all fours, he was able to see furniture that he had struggled with the night before, when he was watching television with Stan while all the lights were on.

                 When he got to the living room, Ford slowed down to make his footsteps extra quiet, as, for some reason, Banjo was on the couch.  Luckily, he was facing away, sleeping deeply.  Ford got to the kitchen and quickly but silently rummaged through the fridge.  His stomach rumbled hungrily, the result of his skipped dinner.  But Ford hadn’t wanted to come across Stan or Banjo.

                 Thankfully, there were some leftover mealworm patties from a few days ago that could be eaten cold.  Ford grabbed the container in his mouth and closed the refrigerator door with his back legs.  He exited the kitchen.

                 As he walked past Banjo, the sleeping man stirred slightly.

                 “Mm…” Banjo said longingly.  Ford froze.  “Oh, yes,” Banjo moaned, still fast asleep.  “Yes, Stanley!  Yes…”  Ford’s face began to burn.

                 Shit.  Shit!  I really don’t need to hear my friend salivating over my twin brother!

                 Ford scurried to his study as fast as his stumpy legs would let him and half-closed the door behind him. Exhausted from the sprint, he dropped the tupperware on the floor to catch his breath. He held his head in his hands and tried to process what had happened. 

                 Okay, think, Stanford… 

                 He didn’t have to think much at all.  It was maddeningly clear, looking back.  His twin and Angie had been bickering from the start. Somewhere along the way, that bickering had turned into playful teasing, possibly even flirting.  And even now that Angie was temporarily Banjo, the sparks and chemistry between the two were still present.

                 Not to mention, it sounds like Stan has been preventing Banjo from having a mental breakdown over this whole situation, by keeping him distracted and happy.

                 The big axolotl sat on his hind legs to lean against the glass of his tank.  He  idly picked a patty to munch on. It wasn’t rocket science what was happening between his brother and friend, but it still made him wonder where he stood.  True, they were both adults, responsible for their own decisions.  And he would be glad to see them finding happiness with each other.  Though, frankly, it didn’t seem to be his business.

                 But something nagged at the back of his mind.  A worry about what would happen if it all went south.  If the worst came to fruition, and Banjo/Angie and Stan became antagonistic towards each other, would he have to choose one?  Could he?

                 A few bites later and Ford had finished all the patties in the box.  He yawned widely.  He squinted toward the clock on his wall, but couldn’t make out what time it was. Late enough that even he, a notorious night owl, could feel tired. He stretched his front legs and arched his back, making his tail curl over him. Likely, he resembled a cat at that moment. He shook his head thinking how Banjo would have probably found it adorable. Or would he?

                 Tiredness was creeping into his limbs and mind.  Ford abandoned those thoughts in favor of focusing on climbing the ramp they had put in his study for him to reach his tank. He dived lazily in the water and slowly drifted toward the bottom. 

                 Stanford immediately felt better in the water, almost wanting to swim a little, but his tank was sadly too small for him to move around much. Granted, the tank was a great update from the tub, but he couldn’t help but remember the brief giant tank he had been stuck in. It had been perfect.  It even had fish and small water currents…

                 Ford closed his eyes, thinking of that giant tank.  He soon drifted off to sleep.

——

                 Stanford had just pulled on his robe, his hair still damp with water from his tank and eyelids heavy from sleep when he heard someone clear their throat. He jumped and spun around to see a blurry figure in the doorway with caramel-colored hair. 

                  “Banjo?” he asked as he fumbled for his glasses. Once on his nose the figure came into focus to reveal his friend. “Wha-what are you doing here?”

                  “I needed to talk to ya. About everything,” the southerner said, still standing in the doorway. “I noticed how ya avoided me and figured I’d corner ya here ‘fore you could run.”

                 The knot in Ford’s stomach came back, along with the shame he had felt for the past few days. It was true. He had been so embarrassed that he had simply opted to ignore his friend, vainly hoping it would go away. He should have thought better since it hadn’t really worked with his twin. Would he have ignored Banjo, or, starting tomorrow, Angie for five years? He shook his head with a sigh and invited his friend to step into the room. Banjo did so, closing the door behind him.

                  “Yes, I have been distant for the past few days,” Ford started slowly. He hung his head low, bracing himself against his tank and avoiding eye contact. He couldn’t help but blink a couple of times as his vision became blurry again. He scowled, frustrated by the tears obscuring his vision despite his glasses. He kept staring at his hands to stay focused. “I- I apologize. I misread your feelings over your situation and thought you were just having the… time of your life. It was an illogical conclusion to come to, given my own emotions when I myself undergo a change each month.” His voice choked up, a shuddering breath caught in his throat.  “I should have thought before reacting. I truly, deeply apologize.”

                 He closed his eyes and waited. 

                 After a few minutes a long sigh came from the other side of the room. 

                  “It’s true that yer lil blow-up was uncalled fer,” Banjo said softly.  “Don’t worry, though, I accept yer apology.”  Ford’s shoulders slumped in relief.  Part of him had worried Banjo would hold a grudge.  “But…” Banjo paused.  “It’s come to my attention that there might be a dif’rent reason you lashed out.” 

                 Ford swallowed the lump of emotion stuck in his throat. 

                  “I have no idea what you could be talking about,” he whispered.

                  “I might have been startled and, quite frankly, scared by yer outburst, but I was listenin’.  When ya blew up at me, ya rattled off a long list of grievances,” Banjo said, his voice quiet and level.  “It’s quite clear that ya ain’t lost any of the frustration over yer sit’ation.” Ford’s head shot up.  He finally met Banjo’s eyes. 

                  “I was just-” he started. Banjo held up a hand. Ford fell silent.

                  “Stanford, yer brother explained to me that, due to yer polydactyly, you had an awful lot of exams ‘n tests ‘n whatnot done on you when you were just a lil one.  He told me those negative emotions ‘n memory ‘re prob’ly why ya don’t go to the doctor near as often as you should. Well, that ‘n yer good old-fashioned stubbornness ‘n procrastination.”  Ford felt himself blush at the incredibly accurate assessment.  He remained silent, staring at his hands, his twelve fingers intertwined with each other. “I think we went about your curse all wrong.”

                 “What do you mean?”

                 Banjo sighed. “Ever since I got here, we’ve been doin’ research on ya.  Every time ya turn, every night of the full moon, I’m examinin’ ya like yer my study subject.”  Ford glanced up long enough to see Banjo’s worried expression, then quickly downcast his eyes again.  “We turned yer time as an axolotl into a- a chore. Every time you turn, I’m right there takin’ notes, writin’ things down, pokin’ ‘n proddin’ ‘n photographin’ ya and…”  Banjo sighed again. “What I’m gettin’ at is that yer hate fer yer amphibious side might partly be rooted in that.”

                  “But I agreed to it!” Ford protested. “From the start, I have wanted, no, needed to know what is happening to me!  I want answers!”

                 “I know,” Banjo said gently.  His voice was almost maddeningly calm. “Don’t get me wrong, I want ‘em too.  But we went about this the wrong way.  We need to slow down.” Banjo took a pause. “Stan told me how the night we went to the Crawlspace you turned gray, acted all odd.” Ford’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. “But once we got home, you loosened up, actually seemin’ happy with Stan.”

                 As he idly played with his annoyingly blue streaked hair, a few memories came back to Ford from that night. They were all a bit blurry, but had a feeling of being warm and happy.  A feeling he struggled to recall experiencing often in his amphibious form.  He looked at Banjo.

                  “I admit that some aspects of this curse are infuriating to me. All right,” he said.  Banjo smiled hesitantly.  “What do you suggest?”  Banjo’s smile strengthened.

                  “We take a pause from observin’ and analyzin’ ya. Give ya a break. I’ve got plenty of data to keep me occupied anyway.  Of course, I might still write down some observations here and there, but I won’t be askin’ or pokin’ ya anymore,” Banjo elaborated.  Ford nodded. 

                  “That sounds reasonable.” He walked to his desk and opened a drawer.  After taking a steadying breath, he pulled out a few pieces of paper to hand to Banjo. “You might need these. You’ll have more use of them than I do, anyways.”  Banjo carefully took the papers from him.  He looked down at them in awe.

                  “Is that…?”

                 “Yes, the test results from the vet. I trust you’ll use them well.”

                 Cradling the documents in his hands, the southerner nodded. “I will! Promise!”

                 Ford nodded in return and smiled.  It was the first one he’d shared with his friend for far too long. An easy silence settled between the two until Stanford broke it.

                 “If we are taking a break from studying, what should we do?” he asked.  Banjo laughed.  It still sounded eerily like Fiddleford.

                  “Whatever ya want, silly.”

                  “In that case…”  Ford decided to broach the topic that had been bothering him the night before. “I don’t feel comfortable going back to the lake anytime soon, but I was wondering if we could do something about my tank.”

                 Tilting his head, Banjo looked at the tank behind Ford. “What’s wrong with yer tank?”

                 “Nothing.”

                  “But?” Banjo prompted.

                  “It’s adequate to sleep in but too small for me to actually swim.  I quite enjoyed the freedom of the tank in the Northwest mansion,” Ford confessed.  Banjo nodded slowly.  “You’re the expert when it comes to animal enclosures, with your history working for a zoo.  What do you think we could do?”  Banjo beamed.

                  “I reckon there’s quite a few things we could do to make ya more comfortable!  Once I’m back to m’ proper self, I’ll make some calls.  I’ve already got somethin’ in mind.”

                  “Excellent.”  Ford paused.  Something Banjo had said earlier was bothering him.  “You said that Stan told you I turned gray,” he said after a moment.  “You didn’t notice?”

                 “Yeah, uh, turns out Banjo is colorblind,” Banjo said with a shrug.  Ford’s jaw dropped.  Banjo smiled.  “So, what do ya want fer breakfast?”

—--

                 “Hello there stranger,” gushed yet another of the bachelorettes of Gravity Falls.

                 “Oh, uh, howdy, miss,” Banjo said awkwardly.  He politely tipped his cowboy hat, which Stan had convinced him to wear, as it was his last night as Banjo.  The woman giggled.

                 “Can I buy you a drink?” she asked eagerly.

                 “Um.  I think I’m set.”  Banjo held up his glass of whiskey.  The woman pouted.  “Thank you fer offerin’, though.”  The woman walked away, visibly disappointed.  Banjo began to head back to the booth Stan and Ford were sitting at, only to be intercepted by yet another woman.

                 “Dammit, can’t he drop the whole ‘proper southern gentleman’ thing long enough to sit down?” Stan grumbled.  Ford chuckled.  “This is our last night as three guys!  And he’s spending half of it getting flirted with.”  After a relaxing day at home, Stan had finally convinced Banjo and Ford to go out to a bar.  However, the women of Gravity Falls were enthralled by Banjo’s “exotic” way of speaking, good looks even in the bar’s dim lighting, and southern manners.  As such, their advances kept interrupting the boys’ night out.

                 “Can you blame them?” Ford asked.  Stan’s face softened as he watched Banjo frantically trying to politely turn down the woman talking to him.

                 “No.  I can’t.”

                 “You, uh…”  Ford stirred his non-alcoholic drink.  He had offered to be the designated driver, as he hadn’t tried any alcohol since becoming afflicted with his curse and wasn’t sure if he’d have a strange reaction to it.  “You seem to be rather…fond of him.”

                 “He’s nice,” Stan said with a shrug.  Ford nodded.  “And he appreciates my sense of humor.  Not a lot of people do.”  Stan frowned.  His eyes flicked over to Ford.  “Wait.  You were saying that like…”

                 “I recall well how you acted when you first developed a crush on Carla McCorkle,” Ford remarked.  “I’ve been seeing the same behaviors popping up from you as of late.”  Stan’s face reddened.  The crappy song being played by the horrible cover band in the corner ended.  A new one started.  Ford waited patiently for Stan to say something.

                 I’ve got plenty of time before Banjo gets back.  He’s too polite to turn down any of these women quickly.  Ford stirred his drink and watched Stan’s face turn redder and redder.  Sweet Moses, is he ever going to crack?  After what felt like ages, Stan finally sighed.

                 “Fine,” he muttered.  His gaze dropped to the table.  “I- I’ve got a thing for Angie.  But I’m not- I- it started when he was Angie, so I’m not- I’m not into men or- or-”

                 “Stanley, you know full well my own, ah, romantic inclinations,” Ford said quietly.  “Do you really think I would judge you for being interested in both Angie and Banjo?”  Stan traced out a few letters in the condensation on the table from their drink glasses.

                 “I- I guess not.”

                 “Are you going to make a move?” Ford asked.  Stan looked up at him, aghast.

                 “Are you a fucking idiot?” he hissed.  “I’ve done a lotta stupid shit, that might be the stupidest thing I could ever do!”

                 “Why?” Ford pressed.  “Since when have you worried about shooting your shot?”

                 “Wh- because- he- she-” Stan stammered.  He paused and took a breath.  “We live together.  If he turns me down, that’ll fuck up the mood in the house.”  Stan turned his head to watch Banjo, who was now desperately attempting to escape the clutches of three women.  “I’ve been homeless before, Ford.  I’m not gonna risk losing a roof over my head just to hit on someone outta my league.”

                 “You think he’s out of your league?”

                 “He told me he’s got a doctorate,” Stan scoffed.  “I didn’t even graduate high school!”

                 “There’s more to compatibility than how much education one has,” Ford said gently.  Stan grunted wordlessly.  Ford looked down at the ice cubes melting in his drink.  “Don’t tell Banjo, but I overheard him last night and- I think you should take a chance.  Your feelings are more mutual than you think.”

                 “Are you sure?” Stan asked.  Ford met Stan’s eyes and nodded.  “If this all goes to shit, it’s your fault, okay?”  Ford quirked a half-smile.

                 “Understood.”

                 “Whew!”  Banjo slid into the booth, sitting right next to Stan.  His caramel-colored hair was getting sweaty in the warm bar and sticking to his face.  “I fin’ly got away from those ladies.”  He shook his head.  “I ain’t got the foggiest idea why they’re tryin’ so hard to get romantic with me.”

                 “Really?” Stan and Ford asked together.  Banjo blinked.

                 “Yes?  Should- should I know?”

                 “You’re nice and cute, man,” Stan said dismissively.  Banjo’s cheeks turned pink.  “And people in town only know Angie.  They don’t know Banjo.  So you’re exciting and new.”

                 “Ah.”  Banjo coughed politely.  “I- I see.”

                 “You were gone for so long I finished my drink,” Stan complained.  Banjo looked down at his own glass.

                 “I finished mine, too,” he said sadly.

                 “What were you drinking?” Ford asked.

                 “Whiskey, neat,” Banjo replied.  Ford nodded and got up.

                 “I’ll get the two of you some new drinks.  Stan, perhaps you could talk to Banjo like we discussed.”

                 “Sixer!” Stan hissed at Ford.  Banjo looked back and forth between the twins.

                 “The two of ya discussed somethin’?”

                 “Yes.”  Ford stared intensely at Stan, who shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.  “And I fully expect him to take what I said to heart.”  Ford strode away from the table.  As he waited at the bar, he glanced back at Stan and Banjo.  Stan had leaned over to whisper something into Banjo’s ear.  It was difficult to tell in the bar’s horrible lighting and cigarette smoke-filled air, but Ford could have sworn he saw Banjo blush fiercely.

—--

                 The rays of the morning sun filtered through the window of Stan’s bedroom.  As the light fell upon his face, Stan opened his eyes.  His eyes widened.  He wasn’t alone in bed.  The events of the night before came rushing back to him.

                 Oh.  Oh, shit.  The person lying next to him rolled over.  Instead of handsome Banjo, it was Angie’s adorable face.  She’s back to normal.  Huh.  Stan reached out a hand to stroke her cheek.  Angie smiled at the gesture.  Are we still gonna-  Before Stan could finish  his thought, Angie opened her eyes.  Her smile broadened.

                 “Good mornin’,” she said softly.  Stan grinned at her.

                 “Morning.”

                 “I missed how ya looked with full color vision.”

                 “Yeah?”

                 “Yeah.”  Angie sat up, stretching.  The blanket covering her fell away, exposing her bare chest.  Stan inhaled sharply.

                 Damn, she’s gorgeous.  Stan sat up as well.  Angie looked at him, clearly expecting him to say something.  Stan cleared his throat.

                 “I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” he said.  Angie cocked her head.  Her caramel-colored locks bounced from the movement, falling into her face.  Stan tucked her hair behind her ear.  “I went to bed with a handsome guy and woke up with a beautiful girl.”  Angie beamed at him.

                 Yes!  It landed!

                 “Yer quite the charmer, Stanley Pines.”

                 “Not everyone thinks so.”

                 “Good thing I do,” Angie purred.  Stan’s smile broadened.  He leaned in, planting a kiss on her lips.  It was different from kissing Banjo, but somehow the same.  They pulled apart.

                 “So, uh, do you think we’re- uh, we’re gonna keep this thing going?” Stan asked.  Angie frowned thoughtfully.  “Ya know, doing…stuff together?”  Angie snickered.

                 “Not the most romantic way to ask me to try datin’ ya,” she said.  “That is, if that’s what yer sayin’.”  Stan nodded.  “Well, sure.  I was Banjo last night, but I was still me.  Just in a body built a bit dif’rent.  I don’t see why we can’t try out bein’ together.”

                 “Sounds good to me, sweet cheeks,” Stan said.  Angie giggled.  Stan leaned in to kiss her again.  The bedroom door slammed open.  Angie yelped, grabbing the blanket and covering herself with it.  Stan whipped his head around.  His twin stood in the doorway.

                 “Stanley, we have to-” Ford started.  He paused, taking in the scene before him.  “Ah.  I am glad to see you back to yourself, Angie.”

                 “It- uh, it’s good to be m’self again,” Angie squeaked.  Her face was beet red.  Stan was reminded of the embarrassment she’d displayed on the morning she woke up as Banjo.

                 “Come on, Sixer, learn how to knock,” Stan said, rolling his eyes.

                 “In my defense, I wasn’t expecting this.”  A small smile appeared on Ford’s face.  “Though perhaps I should have.”  Stan felt his own cheeks burn.

                 “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

                 “The two of you are not very subtle.”

                 “Well I think you-” Stan started.

                 “Uh, boys, if ya don’t mind, I’d like to go get dressed,” Angie interrupted.  Longing shone on her face.  “I’m awful excited to wear my old clothes again.”

                 “Here, you can make yourself decent with this.”  Ford tossed one of Stan’s shirts, which had been on the floor, to Angie.  Angie caught it.  Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

                 “It smells.”

                 “That’s just the musk of a man, hot stuff,” Stan said.  He wagged his eyebrows at her.

                 “Hmm.  I think I disagree.”  Angie sighed.  “But beggars can’t be choosers.”  She slipped the shirt on, climbed out of the bed, and scurried away.  Stan watched her leave, wishing that his shirt wasn’t so long on her it covered her cute little tuchus.

                 “Would I be correct in assuming that the two of you will continue to be…together?” Ford asked once Angie was gone.  Stan shrugged.

                 “Seems to be the plan.  At least for now.”

                 “I see.”  Ford’s eyes narrowed.  “Don’t blow it,” he said, his voice serious.  Stan grinned.

                 “I wasn’t planning on it.”

                 “Genuinely, I don’t want things to sour between the two of you.  It would make living together…difficult.”

                 “Stanford.”  Stan lowered his voice, hoping to convey that he was being just as serious.  “I’m not gonna screw this up.”  Ford nodded.

                 “Good.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I don’t want to choose between you and Angie.”

                  “Sixer, we aren’t married.  And you aren’t our kid.”

                  “Still, my friendships with you and Angie are precious to me.”

                  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”  Stan rolled his eyes.  “Get outta here so I can get dressed.”

—--

                 “C’mon, babe, you can’t be distracting me like this,” Stan complained.  “Breakfast is serious business!”

                 “Mm-hmm,” Angie purred.  She wrapped her arms around Stan’s torso from behind and leaned her head against his back.  “And how many times did ya bother me when I was doin’ the serious business of makin’ breakfast?”

                 “That was different, I was just telling you the right way to cook.”

                 “Ya didn’t mind my cookin’ yesterday mornin’.”  Angie stood on her tiptoes to kiss Stan on the cheek.  Stan grinned.  He set down his spatula and turned, pulling Angie into a deep kiss.  Ford stifled a groan.

                 I don’t know whether the constant bickering was worse or better than this constant flirting.  Now that Angie and Stan got along swimmingly, Ford had assumed that breakfast would be smoother.  He had been wrong.  If anything, Stan and Angie’s relationship made the first meal of the day more chaotic, as the two were all over each other to the point of forgetting whatever was cooking on the stove.

                 “You’re going to burn the bacon again,” Ford said loudly.  He finished his last bite of bug sausage, a new recipe that Angie and Stan had worked together on.  Stan pulled away from Angie.

                 “Huh?  Oh, shit!”  Stan spun around, quickly adjusting the heat of the stove.  “Ang, I told you not to distract me!”

                 “It’s fine,” Angie said.  “Nothin’ wound up burnin’.”  She fluttered her eyes at Stan coquettishly.  Stan grinned, his cheeks pink.

                 “You’re crazy hot when you’re sabotaging breakfast.”

                 “And yer quite the attractive feller when yer makin’ breakfast.”  Angie ran her fingers through Stan’s hair.  “And when yer not makin’ breakfast.”  Ford put his head in his hands.

                 I’m going to get a migraine.  Or, given how cloyingly sweet they’re being, a cavity.  The phone rang.  Ford sighed in relief.

                 “I’ll get it,” he said quickly.  Stan and Angie ignored him as he got up from the table and went into the living room.  He picked up the phone.  “This is Stanford Pines.”

                 “Stanford Pines!” a very familiar voice drawled.  A smile began to spread across Ford’s face.  “I was expectin’ my sister to pick up.  She and I have been discussin’ plans fer a project what has to do with some sort of critter.”

                 “A…project?”

                 “It’s all very hush-hush, apparently.  I was gettin’ the impression she wanted it to be a surprise fer you.”

                 “A surprise?” Ford murmured.  His eyes widened.  He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Banjo the week before.

                  “I reckon there’s quite a few things we could do to make ya more comfortable!  Once I’m back to m’ proper self, I’ll make some calls.  I’ve already got somethin’ in mind.”

                  “Is Angie busy?” prompted the man on the other end of the phone.  Ford glanced in the direction of the kitchen.  He could hear Stan and Angie continuing with their incessant flirtation.

                  “Yes, she is.”

                  “Well, it is yer house.  I might as well discuss when I’ll be comin’ up to see y’all.”

                  “That sounds like a splendid idea.”  Ford leaned against the wall, playing idly with the phone cord.

                  “Splendid!” laughed the other man.  “Oh, how I’ve missed ya.”  Ford smiled again.

                  “I… I’ve missed you as well, Fiddleford.”

[auckie]

Dude I am so sick of people’s attitudes towards wild animals. They are not domesticated they are not pets they will not be happy as pets and even if they are you are either going to be unhappy or have to deal with their impulse to breed and do what they would be doing in the wild, which is shit and tear your house up and probably bite you. If it works out. Well hey! Cool.

I’ve befriended this adorable cotton tail and been able to keep it alive, a miracle because they’re difficult, and it adores me and I love it but once I’m able I’m going to put this fucker outside around other cottontails and hope a hawk doesn’t swoop it.

And seeing as it’s so trusting, that very well may happen. Not a lot of juvenile wild rabbits make it to adulthood. The hawk gets to live and that’s fine by me. They’re not endangered and while I’m glad I could keep it alive I have severely handicapped its ability to fear, which is vital. As it gets older it may regain its original, instinctual sense of terror and anxiety, and I hope it does for its own sake. It’s the very same people who insist I put a bow on it and breast feed it and all that stupid shit who would probably fail to research where to get cecotropes and be confused when an unspayed adult female rabbit starts becoming aggressive towards them and dies early from being confined indoors, if it even makes it that far.

I mean. Even if I’ve been doing a good job it could literally drop dead any moment. Rehabbed rabbits do that constantly without warning. And it’ll be sad but that’s just the risk. I’m not a professional but I’ve had experience with squirrels and frankly while I know it’s illegal in some states, i also know that’s to prevent a lot of random people from nabbing cute baby animals and not doing any research and attempting to keep them as pets. But I also think, that like agriculture, carpentry, tailoring— they’re skills you can and should learn. It’s like in human DNA. Are you gonna be a licensed professional? No, I mean probably not. Animal husbandry is the same. Buuut, it’s alive. So you gotta respect that.

There’s an in between of the ardent scare tactics professionals use (rightfully so) to deter laymen from say, putting a brachypelma tarantula on their face. It will probably be fine to do that. I’m not recommending it bc it totally could bite you, or kick hairs into your eyes and nose. But like, it’s probably gonna be fine. But don’t it. Don’t take a baby Robin from its nest but like if you have to for whatever reason, be good to it, do your research and send it to a rehab center probably but you totally can learn to care for it. And if you do, you should be ready and willing to attempt to reintroduce it to its natural habitat. And it might die. It could at a rehab center too. It’s not a baby eagle*, but it’s a living creature that serves a niche in the food web and it’s important to try and put it back into that place even if it means it gets predated.

*sucks to assign animals like. Priority levels but you can and should step on Japanese garden beetles should you see them on your knock out rose bush. You find a dying bee yeah give it honey water or whatever. Don’t fuck with the mantids. You get the gist.

I don’t regret taking the little feller in at all but I also will not regret trying to acclimate him back into his natural habitat: my yard lol.

[seaofolives]

so this is a really random poll (and my first one on this blog!) but it figures now that I've come up with a "good name" I'd be interested to try:

the abstract of the poll/challenge/idea:

1. I'm calling it "torokatober" from トロカト/torokato. no need to apply strict top/bottom dynamics, of course.

2. I do this challenge every year where I write drabbles every day of october for a particular character/ship. this time, 3x4 is my subject of choice

3. anyone who wants to join won't have to be limited by drabbles! that's just me. others can do whatever they want like longer or shorter fics, art, cosplay, model kits, gif sets, amvs, playlists, etc etc etc

4. if the poll gets good traction and interest, I can open a prompt suggestion form just so I won't have to come up with all the prompts myself 😂 but if the poll doesn't get any traction/we don't get enough prompts to fit 31 days, I can just fill it up on my own, dw XD

6. probably gonna use the hashtags #torokatober2024 and #トロカト１０月２０２４年 for collecting works. so even if no one's interested, I'll post the prompts and my own works there 😂

5. this is going to be strictly diy—no mod accounts, no ao3/sqwa collections, zero promotions or pressure, no strict rules, whatsoever. if you answered you'd love to participate but suddenly can't, there's no guilt or penalty. any kind of pairing that involves these two are welcome, any rating or restrictions welcome, etc

7. poll is up for a week! someone also remind me to submit this thing to the central gw accounts bc I'm queueing up this post and don't always check tumblr 😂

8. last random ask! do these two have an "official" emoji pair??? like 🎭🎻? 🤡🎻? 🪈🎻?? 🤸🤺 or 🎪🏜️ or just 3️⃣4️⃣???? or am I just being too much of a feller-kids lmao but I like shippy emojis ok (or should I do another poll)

[davidlcki]

scared together

this is part 2 to “payment”! read part 1 here.

pairing: medium honor arthur! x female reader

warnings: cursing, game typical violence, age gap, lots of blood in this for some reason, female pronouns used. let me know if i missed anything!

summary: after showing up at the van der linde gang, you needed to earn their trust. in the process, you notice arthur distancing himself from you. will you figure out why, or have to head back to your family, who pawned you off in the first place?

words: 7,331

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“come on dutch. with the pinkertons AND oddriscolls, we need anyone we can get. we need to put trust in some folks.” you kept quiet as you stood outside the tent, listening carefully. dutch let’s out a rather large sigh and you can hear him pacing around the tent.

“you sweet on her or somethin’? she don’t know how to shoot. she’s a farm girl! hell, she could even be working with them for christ sakes!”

“oh jesus, she’s not, dutch! i told you, there’s no way she’s a spy. it’s too random. she was originally payment from that family, remember? she’s just lucky i don’t like strauss enough to care.” you frown at his words. was that really the only reason he let you go? “i’ll teach her to shoot. don’t you worry.” arthur pushes his way out of the tent, and before you could move his chest collides directly into you.

“what the…” arthur’s initially angry tone quickly diminishes as he realizes that it’s you. “you spyin on me girl?” a teasing smile appears on his features as he looks at you with amusement. you were speechless, opening and closing your mouth like a bass out of water as you struggled to find some sort of explanation because, well, you were spying. arthur didn’t seem to notice your hesitation as he continued to talk.

“this is perfect timing actually, why don’t we go practice shooting some bottles? always good to know how to use a gun.” arthur wasn’t really asking you as he placed his hand on the small of your back and directed you to walk with him.

“i only shot a gun once, you know…” you trail off, trying to shake away the memory of the man you killed to save arthur.

“well, it wasn’t half bad, the way you killed that feller. got him right in the skull. best to aim for their heads, most sure way to kill ‘em.” you shudder to yourself at the thought of killing more people the way you killed that man. you and arthur stop about 15 feet away from a large rock.

“we’ll do it here.” you watch as he places a few bottles and pieces of fruit on the rock, then he comes back and hands you his pistol. he watches as you take a few shots, which whiz into the woods somewhere with a high pitched zing, not even close to the bottles. arthur watches with seeming enjoyment as you huff and try to fix your stance.

“this funny or somethin?” you glare at him teasingly.

“a little bit” arthur laughs, pushing off the tree he was leaned against and finally stepping in to help.

“here, first you need to relax your shoulders,” arthur places his hands on your shoulders and pushes them down to a relaxed position. “now, your feet should be like this.” he lightly kicks the inside of your feet until theyre further apart. meanwhile, you could hardly think about anything but the warmth of him being so close to you. “now your arms… should be like this” arthur leans forward, completely pressing his chest against your back as he wraps his arms around yours to position them correctly. you take a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on shooting and not the way you could feel muscles flex against you. he leaned forward so his mouth was by your ear and his voice was low as he spoke. you noted how he smelled like cigars and whiskey, and you hated how it started to become a comfort for you.

“now when you’re shooting, you wanna breathe in, exhale, and pull the trigger. only ever shoot on empty lungs. got it? now, line up the sights,” arthur nudges your arms up, then places a hand on your chest. you were sure he could feel how fast your heart was beating at the contact. “now inhale… exhale… and shoot.” you can feel arthur nod against you as you inhale and exhale, and when you squeeze the trigger the bottle in front of you explodes into thousands of pieces. arthur laughs again as you jump at the sound.

“good, good girl.” arthur stays for a second more before reluctantly stepping back, releasing you and letting you continue your practice and get a feel for the gun.

you quickly got sucked into it, determined to shoot everything on the rock. you were always willing to learn a new skill, and if this was what it took to join the van der linde gang, you’d do it until your aim was perfect. after a while of frustration, learning to control your breathing, and lots and lots of bullets, you obliterated all of the targets. the grass below the rock was littered with glass and chunks of mushy apple. you turned to arthur with a grin, ready to joke about how you were prepared to be the best gunslinger in town, only to find he was fast asleep.

you stood for a while, observing his sleeping body. you weren’t mad, in all honesty you were shocked he slept through all the shooting. he was leaned against a tree with his head down, chin resting on his chest. his hair has clearly not been brushed in a few days, but it somehow still looked perfect, falling a few inches above his shoulders. you leaned down slightly, looking at him from under his hat to see if he was really sleeping. he was. you were in awe of how long his eyelashes were and just how overall perfect he was without trying. in this state, he looked peaceful. you decided to leave him and go talk to dutch. you ignored the untrusting glares other camp members gave you as you weaved your way throughout the tents. you thought about how badly you wanted to be a part of something like this. you wanted to be laughing and drinking around the fire with the others. but first you needed to earn their trust. especially dutch, you wanted him to like you. he was the leader, after all. you found him at his tent, nose in a book and music playing softly in the background.

“hi, dutch” you stand before the man who acknowledges you with a grunt, reluctant to put his book down. “i just wanted to let you know, uhm, shootin is going well, i’m really getting it down. i just want to know if there’s a way that i can earn a little more of your trust.” now, dutch was looking up at you, brows furrowed as if he was searching for a lie to catch you in, for any reason to kick you out of his camp. you expected him to yell, but in the end he seemed to approve of your words as he started to pull a piece of paper from his pocket.

“yeah, why don’t you go head into rhodes? we need a few things for camp.” dutch hands you a small list and some money. “if you wanna earn our trust, this is a good start. there’s a spare horse over that way.” you nod at dutch with respect, and you couldn’t hide the smile that crossed your features as you thanked him and practically skipped off towards the horse. you felt like dutch was giving you a chance.

the trip to rhodes was easy. you got in and out with no issues and managed to get everything on the list. you liked the small town, even with all of the rich snobs that littered the population. it was calm.

the ride back was quiet, at first. you hummed to yourself, patting your horse and taking in the beautiful scenery of lemoyne when you heard quiet commotion behind you. you peer over your shoulder, noticing 3 men who were eyeing you like hawks. nerves began to rise in your throat as you kicked at your horses sides, speeding up to a trot. the men must have noticed this as they began to call out your name.

“hey miss! you there!” one of the men came up besides you, a misleading smile was on his face. you said nothing as you slowed to a stop and looked at him. the other two came over as well, you were surrounded.

“you look familiar… yeah, yeah! i seen you around not long ago with… what was his name? arthur, arthur morgan. that’s you right?” your heart sank as the man eyed you suspiciously, waiting for an answer.

“no, no. i don’t know of an arthur morgan.” you shake your head quickly, heat rising up into your face.

“no… that’s gotta be you. you just join the van der lindes?” another man questioned as they look at each other, and another one chimes in. “why don’t we take her to colm? see if he recognizes her.” you instantly recognized the name, as you heard dutch speaking about colm just the other day. you knew you weren’t supposed to be causing commotion around rhodes, but you needed to escape. your hand found arthur’s pistol that you kept on your hip and you made sure the odriscolls saw.

“i advise you let me keep on going.” you looked between the men carefully, trying your best not to show your nerves as you straighten your back. one of the men scoffs a laugh at your warning and began pulling rope out, and that was your last straw. the last thing you wanted was to be tired up again.

instantly you drew the pistol, shooting at the man with the rope. to your surprise, you shot him square in the forehead. time seemed to move so quick that you didn’t even get to see the odriscoll hit the ground. another gunshot went off, and your horse bucked you, sending you flying into the dirt. there was a warm, dull pain spreading through your abdomen, and when you looked down you noticed a gunshot wound that went straight through your side. everything started to spin as you tried to look for your gun, but the men were quick to jump off their horses and make their way to you. a string of vicious curses escapes your lips as you helplessly kicked yourself away, but it was no use. not a second later, you were knocked unconscious with a boot to the face.

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this was truly not the way you thought joining the van der linde gang would go. you were tied to a tree at an odriscoll camp, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the fact that you seem to somehow get yourself into situations that involve being tied to trees. you couldn’t really remember the first day you were here, most of it was spent in between consciousness and trying to remember where you were. today, however, you remembered. you sucked in a shaky breath as colm walked back over to you. your head felt heavy and it felt like you were filled with wet cement.

“you’re going to tell me where the van der lindes are at. NOW.” you flinched as colm screamed, giving you a glare that could pierce holes through your flesh. you avoid eye contact and decide to stay silent. you don’t think you really had the energy to speak anyways. colm dosent like this, and delivers a smack square across your cheek. you let out a yelp and continue to squeeze your eyes shut. the smack shoots adrenaline throughout your tired body, giving you the energy to keep conscious for a little while longer. tears begin to drop, rolling down your stinging cheek. you didn’t think you were tough. not like any of the other van der linde members. you we’re afraid you’d buckle under the odriscolls torture. the only thing that kept your mouth shut, was the desperation of wanting to earn the gangs trust. you wanted to be a part of them, and you didn’t want to see any of them hurt or killed by these monsters. colm spits at your feet and scoffs with anger.

“when i come back, you better have some information for me, otherwise you’re dyin’ by my knife, girl. unless you bleed out first.” your mouth stayed shut as you watched him laugh and walk away through vision blurred by tears. you were afraid that no one was coming for you now. you knew people had to be wondering where you were, but did they care enough to come rescue you? does arthur care enough? hell. it had to have been almost 2 days now. your legs were going numb from standing for so long and the side of your dress was stained dark red with dried blood. you were having severe doubts. after all, arthur was not so kind to you just a week ago. why would he all of a sudden save you now? for the next hour, you hazily watched the sun set through the trees as you prayed for someone to save you. your wound needed to be tended to, and soon. you wouldn’t make it through another night. when the sun was barely lighting the sky anymore, colm came back over to you with a knife in hand, spurs jingling. roughly he holds the knife against your neck and you try your best to tilt your head away from him.

“last chance. tell us where they are, or you’re dead.” your mind seemed to run a million miles per second. if you told them where the van der lindes are and you somehow still escaped without being killed, they would never trust you again. you would have nowhere to go. and if you didn’t rat, you’d die, but the gang would be safe. it was crazy, giving up your life for a gang you just met not long ago, but you’d made up your mind. anyhow, you almost wanted him to kill you. to end your suffering. you close your eyes and prepare for the knifes blade to slice you open, ending you right then and there, but it never came. slowly you opened your eyes, realizing colm was staring at you, almost looking through you, the knife was held steady at your throat, drawing a little bit of blood. you quickly realized he was listening for something. slowly, he peered out into the trees behind you, and before he could speak, an arrow flew from the woods, straight through his shoulder. you watched, dumbfounded as he stumbled back, dodging a second arrow as he slid out of sight and back into camp. you craned your head to the side as much as possible as you attempted to see who it was, but you couldn’t.

suddenly colms men came rushing from the camp, firing wildly into the woods at the attacker. bullets we’re flying mere inches from you, and you flinched when one would graze the tree. you realized any of them could kill you in an instant, though they were preoccupied with the threat in the woods. suddenly, bullets began whizzing out of the forrest the same direction the arrows came from, and you heard familiar voices. colms men began dropping like flies, and the rest that were alive began to turn and flee the camp. upon hearing arthur’s voice, you dropped your head in relief, letting out shaky sobs.

“hey… Y/N? jesus…” arthur’s voice was panicked and soft as he ran up to you. he grabbed your cheeks with his gloved hands and tilted your head up to look at him. though you were crying, you managed to give him a smile. blood trickled from the corner of your mouth as you spoke.

“you found me.” you remembered the man who shot the arrows name, charles, and you must have thanked him a million times as he cut the ropes that held you to the tree. the second the ropes slid to the ground, however, you realized you couldn’t really stand anymore. your legs buckled, and arthur was quick to catch you. you let out a hiss of pain as he lifted you bridal style into his arms. the bruises and cuts on your body screamed at every movement and it was causing the world to spin. you grabbed onto his shirt and breathed deeply through the pain.

“i didn’t tell them anything”

“i gotcha honey. just breathe. don’t worry about that right now, you did good okay?” arthur whispered to you as he lifted you onto his horse as gently as he could, then hopping on behind you in the saddle.

“m’ bleeding a lot” your voice was slurred as you looked down at your blood soaked clothes, the movement reopened your wounds that were trying their best to heal. you were struggling to sit up straight, using all of your might to not fall forwards in the saddle. arthur notices this. without second thought he snakes his free hand around your waist, pressing firmly into the gash in your side to stop the bleeding while also stopping you from falling completely forwards. a loud moan of pain escapes from your lungs as your blood seeps out between arthur’s fingers and onto his saddle. your hand landed on top of his, an instinctual reaction as you resisted the urge to pry his hand away from you.

“lean against me darling.” his words snapped you back into reality for a moment. his voice was smooth and calm, keeping you from freaking out. you listened to arthur’s instructions, leaning your body weight fully against his chest and laying your head back against his shoulder so it wouldn’t fall forwards. every bounce of the horse, every shift of arthur’s hand, every breath he took, put you in agony. it was nearly unbearable at this point as you galloped towards camp, and you soon began to violently fade in and out of consciousness. you tried to say something, but the words just wouldn’t form on your tongue. the second the camp came into sight, you were out cold.

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when you opened your eyes again, you were back at camp in a cot. carefully you observed your body, noticing you were in a clean night gown and wrapped in a few bandages.

“oh, take it easy now.” an older woman with a large hairdo you couldn’t quite remember the name of rushed over with a wet cloth in hand. she gingerly pressed it against your forehead and sternly instructed you to relax.

“arthur… where is he?” your voice was hoarse as you coughed the words out, and you greatly accepted the canteen of water that she handed to you.

“don’t worry about that now sweetheart, just relax.”

“grimshaw! she awake?” you noted her name as dutch came into the tent. he gave you a pat on the shoulder, not noticing how you winced in pain at the contact as he continued.

“you could have given us away, but you didn’t. for that, i thank you.”

“yeah, of course, dutch.”

“you’re welcome to stay with us as long as you like. i don’t trust you fully yet… i cant, in a time like this, but you have my respect.” even through your pain, you were satisfied, and a smile sat on your face for the rest of the gloomy day. the only other person you saw that day was mrs. grimshaw occasionally, but otherwise you were alone. left to do nothing but watch the tent flap gently with the breeze and listen to the distant chatter of camp members around the fire.

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the days swept by in a pain induced haze, and before you knew it, it was the evening of day two. grimshaw carefully helped you up to a sitting position, insisting you needed to move around a little. it was excruciating, but you did it. slowly you walked through the tent flaps, an arm slung around grimshaws shoulders as you did so. you kept your eyes trained on the ground as everyone stared at you like you were a freak at the carnival. with the sun beginning to set, mostly everyone was back at camp, fixing themselves a bowl of pearsons stew and settling around the fire. grimshaw helped you sit down against a log by the fire, instructing you to stay still as she ran to get you stew. you scoffed to yourself, as if you could get up and do anything anyways.

slowly, you lifted your eyes to inspect who was sitting around the fire. you remembered a few of their names, bill, javier, who strummed on his guitar gently, and of course, arthur. he was sitting to the right of you on a log, uncomfortably avoiding eye contact and taking a swig of whiskey. you leaned towards him slightly as you tried to get his attention.

“hey, arthur.” you say his name, and he looks at you nonchalantly. there was a terrible rasp to your voice and you imagined there was a twist of pain on your face, but you gave him a small smile. arthur huffs a hello towards you and stands up quickly. you watch him, confused.

“wait,” you tried to rise to your feet, but he was gone. a sudden flash of pain ripped through your side as you sat back down. it was hot, and spread outward the more you tried to move. you looked between the other men around the fire.

“what’s wrong with arthur?”

the men just looked at you, shrugged, and went back to whatever they were doing before. the strumming on javier’s guitar continued. at this time, grimshaw came back with a bowl of soup for you. you scarfed it down quickly, ignoring the stares you got as you did so. you were upset and confused on why arthur would all of a sudden not even look at you. you took it he was drunk, but still.

you asked grimshaw to help you back to your tent, deciding you wanted to hide away from everything for the night.

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you hadn’t heard or seen arthur since that evening. it was late the next day now, which consisted of mostly sleeping, eating a bowl of soup, and thinking about arthur. you felt you were going crazy. you tried your best to get out of bed again, but your body wouldn’t allow it. you could practically hear your limbs screaming to stay down, so you tried to do so though you were restless to know what was going on with him and why he was suddenly acting so weird around you.

there was an inner battle going on inside you as you laid on your back uncomfortably. your body ached and screamed, though not as bad as a few days before. you needed to see arthur, and you were upset by the fact that he still hadn’t came to see you or ask if you were okay even once. you wiped the sweat from your forehead as you stared up at the ceiling of the tent.

you couldn’t tell how he felt about you. it was constant mixed signals from one day to the next. you decided you needed to get up and out of this tent, now.

you knew it had to be late by the fact that reverend stopped his drunken singing and the music from dutches tent had shut off a while ago. you took your time getting to a sitting position, and you observed the stitches in your wounds to make sure nothing had torn. then, you rose to your feet, inhaling sharply as you did so. it hurt, a hot, searing pain, but your determination to see arthur pushed you further.

upon exiting your tent, you realized that it was REALLY late. the fire had died down, only a dim orange light was emitting from the burnt wood, and everyone’s tents were closed. you eyed arthur’s closed tent across the way before limping your way over. once there, you slowly pushed the flap open, revealing arthur fast asleep on his cot. his breaths were slow and even, and he looked content, no anger present on his features. now, you were debating turning back. you didn’t want to wake him, but you also felt like you couldn’t hold back your thoughts anymore. after carefully weighing your options, the thought of going back to your tent without answers convinced you to step inside.

instantly, you were infatuated with the little items around his tent. you picked up a photo, noticing it’s date and name, beatrice morgan, 1870. you smiled at the fact that despite being such a hard and tough man, he kept a photo of his mother on his nightstand.

next, you noticed his journal, on the chest by his bed. you contemplated for a while, not wanting to be nosy but also wondering what the hell he was constantly writing in it. maybe you could find some answers without you having to be confrontational. slowly, you picked it up. you flipped through the pages, mostly finding little sketches and observations, until you get to one of the last pages. you nearly let out a gasp, catching yourself at the last second before alerting arthur of your presence. there was a beautiful sketch of you taking up one page. on the other, was a passage about you.

“i know i should be visiting her right now. she almost died keeping our camp a secret for christ sakes, but i can’t. after what happened in valentine, i’m not sure she feels the same as i do. i’m a fool, afraid to fall in further than i already have.”

you were so focused on re reading this passage in arthur’s journal, you almost forgot you were standing in his tent. that was, until his rough grip was on your wrist and there was a knife at your throat. instantly you dropped the journal, locking eyes with him in a panic. you muttered an ‘im sorry’ that came out barely audible in your shock. arthur quickly realized it was you as he blinked sleep from his eyes. he lowered the knife, although not letting go of your wrist as he swiftly rose to his feet, his frame towering over yours.

“what you think you’re doing in here, huh? you readin my journal?” his voice was rough and deep with sleep and irritation as he walked you backwards until your legs hit his dresser. you kept your head tilted up at him as you spoke, never breaking eye contact.

“i wanted to come talk to you since you’ve been pretending i don’t exist.” you kept your voice even, clenching your fist in pain as he kept his crushing force on your wrist. a hidden anger seemed to begin to bubble within you.

“this dont seem like talking to me. the way i see it, you’re trying to rob me, rob all of us, and make it outta here a rich woman.” you could smell the alcohol on his breath from earlier as his voice continued to raise.

“search me! i ain’t take shit. i’m sorry i looked through your journal, it was wrong. but really, i did want to talk to you.” your voice comes out in a growl more closer to an animals than human. you hold in your pain as arthur grunts and pats you down rather roughly, hands gliding over your cuts and bruises without a care. when he’s done, he stands up to make eye contact with you again.

“i don’t know if i can trust you, girl.”

“if i wanted, i could’a killed you in your sleep. but i didn’t. i don’t have a single thing on me but the clothes on my back.” arthur runs a hand over his face, stepping back from you and looking down at his journal on the ground. it was still open to the page you were looking at.

“that’s nothin. i wrote that drunk.” your heart crumpled a little as he spoke. what did he mean?

“what? what are you saying?”

“i’m saying, what i wrote there don’t mean nothin! it’s bullshit. if that’s what you came to talk about then you’re- you’re wasting your time. now get out of my tent. now!” you physically flinched as his voice rose with each word. you knew he was obviously very angry with you, and possibly still a little drunk, but it still hurt. it hurt that he wouldn’t give you the time of day, and is now telling you the feelings he had were bullshit.

“so… you drag me all the way here… to tell me what you felt is bullshit.” it came out as more of a statement than a question. your voice was shaking with anger and betrayal, and you could see arthur’s face fall slightly as he realizes what he’s done. fresh tears fall from your eyes as you look at him. his features continue to soften as you hold eye contact with him for a moment. neither of you spoke, a silent exchange was held between you both.

“you won’t see me again.” with that, you turn and exit the tent, ignoring arthur as he called your name. you kept his pistol, and took the spare horse, riding quickly and fiercely from the sleeping camp.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

you don’t know how long you were riding from camp, but it was a while. long enough that you assumed you were somewhere in new hanover. you slowed your horse to a stop in the middle of a large plain, deciding to give her a rest as you hopped off of her gingerly.

the way the grass, as soft as feathers, tickled your skin as you sat down was comforting. the sun had just began to rise, leaving a faint orange hue in the sky and over everything you could see. this is exactly what you needed. peace, silence, no arthur. your heart was threatening to shatter the more and more you thought about what happened a mere hour ago. how dare he? he uprooted your life, dropped you in valentine, and when you came back after him he decides he dosent want you anymore. you knew he was drunk, and angry, and it was wrong of you to snoop through his personal items, but did he mean it? you were conflicted and you needed to get out of your head.

as you laid back fully into the grass, you began to count the faint stars that were beginning to disappear in the sky. they looked like punctured holes in a piece of paper. you didn’t know if you were coming back to camp. we’re you really never going to face arthur again? never to look into his icy blue eyes or feel the comfort the came with his scent? for a while, you let your thoughts drift aimlessly. most of them revolve around arthur and if you were really never going to see him again. the angry half of you said to hell with him. he deserves it, after all that he’s done to you, but the other half of you wanted you to go back, back to his unforgiving presence.

you let the wind roll over you, it was the prefect temperature outside without the harsh sun. you could probably stay like this forever. relishing in the warm comfort of new hanover, and for a while, you closed your eyes and pretended you were back home. home with your mother and father, who would never trade you off to a gunslinger in trade of a paid off debt. when the only care you had was when you’d read your next book. tears unwillingly fell from your eyes, rolling past your temple and dripping into the shell your ear and into the flowy grass. you were so in your head that you didn’t notice the sound of hoof beats approaching until it was too late. your eyes flew open with the speed of light, and you were quick to place a hand on your- well- arthur’s gun. that’s when you realized who it was.

“arthur” you greet him as casually as possible, pretending you didn’t hear the waver in your voice, a threat of more tears to come.

“Y/N,” arthur steps off his horse and stands awkwardly, fiddling with his gun belt. you could practically hear the cogs in his brain as he thought of what to say. you rolled your eyes at the fact that he didn’t think of anything on the ride here.

“look, i’m sorry”

“oh, you are now?” your response was quick and shocked you as it came out of your mouth. arthur frowns, looking off at something in the distance as he continues.

“i’m- i was scared.” he turns his head to make eye contact with you again, and you could tell he was genuine. the way his brows furrowed up into a look of distraught was something you never thought you’d see on his face.

“why? why now are you scared? you took me from my home, treated me like a toy, like i wasn’t human, and i’m still here, for you! and now, now you’re scared? i shoulda known this was a mistake, i’m a damned fool chasing after someone like you.” you stood up swiftly, whistling for your horse and brushing grass off your clothes as you avoided eye contact with him.

“please- don’t. don’t go.” you turned back towards arthur, lips pressed into a flat line as you thought. you could have sworn as you looked at him that there was the glint of a tear in his eye. it was hard for you to hold your anger with the gunslinger.

“i don’t wanna go, arthur. hell, i have no where else TO go thanks to you, but i’d rather be alone than sitting here trying to figure out what’s going on in that damn mind of yours.” during your rant, you had stepped closer to him. you pointed a finger roughly into his chest at the end of your words, and arthur took this as an opportunity to grab your hand gently. the contact effectively stopped you from speaking.

“i don’t want you to have to do that. im, i’m trying to figure out what’s going on in my mind myself for christ sakes,” arthur let’s out a dry laugh. “but what i do know, what im figuring out, is that i need you. when you were taken by those odriscolls it scared the living hell outta me and it, it made me wanna run the opposite direction. i haven’t felt like that in a long time, Y/N. my first instinct was to distance myself from ya. ”

“just because you’re scared dosent mean you have to push me away, arthur. how do you think i feel? i’m scared too! there’s nothing wrong with being scared together.” your fingers interlaced with his, and at this point, there was no going back. you were in too deep. even though you were mad at him mere hours ago, his touch, his words, made it disappear.

“can we try this again?” arthur was looking down at you desperately. you couldn’t say no. something in your gut was screaming at you, screaming that this was the right choice. or was your mind overcome by him? maybe this would be the worst decision of your life. you couldn’t tell. without another word, you leant forwards and pressed your lips against his. you could feel his shoulders relax as you wrapped your arms around his neck. there was a deep hunger that you could sense in him as he practically devoured you in his embrace. his hands were everywhere, his grip tight as he held you like there was no tomorrow.

in between kisses he began to mumble something you at first couldn’t understand. then you realized it was a string of apologies.

“m’ sorry. m’ so sorry. let me try again, please” his voice was nearly smothered by the attack of your lips, but you heard it.

“it’s okay, arthur. s’okay” you attempted your own response which came out about the same as arthur’s.

pain flourished throughout your side, reminding you of its presence as arthur accidentally grabbed it. you let out a quiet gasp of pain, causing arthur to quickly pull away, looking down at you with concern.

“did i hurt you?” his voice was breathy and deep, lips swollen as he spoke near inches from your lips.

“no… no” you spoke in between breaths, your own lips swollen and tingly as well. you moved in for another kiss, this time catching arthur’s bottom lip between yours in the process and biting just enough to draw some blood. arthur winces, pulling away, eyes large. his pupils were blown wide, the icy blue of his irises barely visible.

“what was that for?” he gives you a lopsided, confused smile, to which you return. his blood left a metallic taste on your tongue.

“everything” you shrug, not having much of a better explanation. arthur couldn’t disagree. he wanted to say that he deserved it, but the howl of a wolf in the distance pulled the two of you back to reality.

“shall we?” arthur tilts his head towards the general direction of camp, not eager to be out with the wolves, still prowling the early morning for prey.

“what? scared of wolves? id have thought you were john” you smile innocently as arthur rolls his eyes.

“shut up” he smiles, leaning down to give you one last kiss. before fully pulling away he takes your chin between his fingers and wipes a smudge of blood away from your lip.

“really, i truly am sorry,”

“dont. i know you are arthur. i’m giving you another chance. i don’t need to hear your sorry.” you give him a soft smile, showing you weren’t trying to be hostile when you say this. you both knew arthur had things to make up for and work on, and you were willing to give him another chance.

when you arrived back at camp, you were greeted with smiles and hellos. the feeling you felt inside your chest was indescribable. you felt like they were accepting you and that they were genuinely worried when you left earlier.

you spent the larger half of the day meeting everyone, trying to get to know them. even micah, who you learned only seemed interested in getting in your pants, so you decided to steer clear. you talked with mary-beth about books, planned to learn to hunt with charles, and you practiced your shooting on the outskirts of camp with sadie. you looked up to her immensely and you had to restrain yourself from straight up begging her to let you go on scores with her. she told you with some practice you’d get there. you knew you could put your knowledge from a lifetime on a ranch to use in the gang.

night began to settle again over the camp, and a peaceful silence had fallen over everyone. you’d spent the last half of your day fishing on the bank of flat iron lake a little ways off from camp. pearson had asked you to try your hand at fishing since you have some experience fishing from your father. you think of all the times you went fishing with him at owanjila lake which was right by your ranch. you looked up at the sky, wondering what your parents were doing right now. did they regret what they did? or were they happier without you? you shake away the thoughts with a heavy sigh, deciding to take a break from fishing to sit against a rock by the water. the sound of the water lapping against the sand calmed you in a way nothing else did. you were so in your head that you didn’t hear when arthur walked over to you.

“Y/N”

you nearly jumped out of your skin as you looked up at him. “jesus! you have a habit of sneaking up on me don’t you?” you shake your head as arthur laughs at your scare.

“you need to be more aware of your surroundings is all” he sits next to you on the sand, sighing with content as he leans against the same rock, shoulder brushing yours.

“any luck with the fish?”

“not the best, not the worst. i got enough for a few meals” you hold up the sack full of fish to arthur.

“must be your calling then! you can be the camp fish catcher.” you roll your eyes and bite back a smile as arthur laughs at his own joke. once his laughing stops, a silence settled over the two of you. for a while, the two of you sat quietly, watching as the stars appeared once again in the vast sky.

“hey, what i said in my tent last night, i hope you realize it was a lie. i was half asleep, and drunk, and confused, and i’m gonna regret those words every day of my life. what i wrote about you in my journal is true. it’s all true.”

for a while, you couldn’t do anything but stare at him. you were processing his words, processing everything. even though you knew it was true, hearing him say it was relieving. arthur started to look nervous as he stared into your gaze.

god, you could stare at him forever. the way his hair fell perfectly around his face, no matter how much dirt or sweat or blood is caked into it. the way his brows furrowed ever so slightly when he was deep in thought or writing in his journal. the slight twitch of his lips when he was trying to hold back a laugh. the almost jagged shape of his nose from being broken so many times. you loved every inch of him, every imperfection (though it was utter perfection to you) and every scar that riddled his body. you realized now, you needed him just as much as he needed you.

“i… i understand if you-“

you cut arthur’s sentence short as you leaned forwards a little too aggressively to smash your lips against his. it was all teeth, and the force at which you came at him sent him tumbling backwards. he instinctively grabbed onto you, pulling you with him so you landed on top of his chest. you let out an ‘oof’ as your chest collided with his, and you couldn’t stop the outburst of laughter that escaped from you.

“that’s funny, huh?” arthur began letting out chuckles of his own as a few tears escape your eyes, half because it was funny and half because the pain began gnawing at your side.

“shit… you alright?” arthur places a gentle hand on your wound, his features instantly morph into worry.

“yeah. i think.” you speak between breaths as your laughter died down. you were propped up by your forearms resting on each side of arthur’s head and you looked down at him in awe.

“i’m no good at this” your heart was beating quicker than ever as arthur looks up at you with a large grin on his face. he was taking in your features, just as you were not long ago.

“neither am i” arthur responds, running his hands thoughtfully up your back and to your jaw, where he pulled you in gently this time for a kiss. it was sweet, and you could feel the love behind it as his lips moved in sync with yours. the more time you spend with arthur, the more you realize how well you fit together. it felt like you were unlocking parts of him every moment you spent together. he was changing, you were beginning to see that. you figured he didn’t really have anyone to keep his head on straight, no one to talk to, no one to hold, and neither did you. even through the fighting, and kidnapping, and murdering, you were puzzle pieces.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

i got too excited and furiously revised this so i could get it out. i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! <3

[hannibalzero]

Do you know who I am?

Charthur 🦬🦌🦬🦌 dabble!

With Dyani! Beware of cute and just Arthur.

Coming back from fur trapping, Charles Smith had hardly been gone a week but he was already so damn homesick. Turns out when you have a home to miss, it happens so easily. Charles hardly got on the trial before wanting to turn back and run straight into that little ranch house up on the hill with that large flower garden.

Charles missed Arthur, missed Dyani, his bed with that heavy quilt and a warm bath.

Taima being a spoiled and beloved horse now, saw her barn and broke out into a canter. She was sick of being on the road, she wanted to be home.

“Easy girl!” Charles soothed but couldn’t help but to smile. Excited himself to be home with his family. Taima stopped to allow Charles to open the stable door, Charles hurriedly got off before pushing the door open.

He stopped for a moment and counted. There were eight horses, when Charles left there was only three. Peaches, Gin and Brandy. Taima was with Charles of corse. Five random horses where looking at Charles curiously.

Arthur’s horses were still here.

But Charles still worried.

Removing the saddle and blanket, Charles took care of Taima and stabled her, he also cleaned his equipment and hung his fur haul to process later. Worry churned his stomach, did something happen while he was gone?

Charles took a deep, slow breath and settled himself as he approached the ranch house. He carefully pushed open the back door, the sound of Dyani crying made his heart hurt.

“Oh I know, it’s awful ain’t it.” Arthur soothed the crying baby in his hold. The sound of water filled poor Charles in on what was happening. In a washing basin on the kitchen table, Arthur was bathing Dyani much to her dismay. “Gettin’ wash up, I gotcha I ain’t gonna let ya go. Such a pretty girl.”

Beside the table was the actual tub, seems like Arthur was about to have a bath himself. The water was heating over the fire.

Charles relaxed a lot. “Hey.” He called out to his family, entering the room now as he closed the door behind him with a click.

“Hey you!” Arthur called out not hiding the smile on his face. Moving Dyani onto the towel on his shoulder and wrapping her up. “Wasn’t expectin ya till tomorrow!” He stood up and walked over. “God I missed ya.”

“Got done early, headed home as soon as I could.” Charles rubbed noses with Arthur before kissing him. Then moved down a bit to kiss Dyani. “Saw all those horses in the barn. You been busy?”

Arthur moved the baby to Charles shoulder towel and all. “Not by choice, but my hand was forced. Descent horses should fetch a good price after a little training.” Arthur went to pour the warm water into the waiting bath.

“Whatcha mean?” Charles asked his worry coming back to full force.

“Ohhhhhhh, small gang of outlaws broke into our house in the middle of the night. Thinking they could strong arm me for some money and well…pleasurable company.” Arthur said with a hum. “They hit the ground after sayin what they wanted and I got to work.”

“You took out a gang of outlaws?” Charles asked in shock holding Dyani closer now.

“While nursing.” Arthur sounded proud of himself. “I ain’t puttin up with nobody’s foolishness.” He looked back at Charles. “….we’re alright, I took care of everything.”

Charles was stunned for a moment. “You know something Arthur? I sometimes forget who you are and what you’re capable of. You are so sweet and caring, now that where out of the life it’s easy to forget.”

Arthur snickered cheeks turning red. “Imma Arthur goddamned Morgan Smith. I have a bounty of five thousand dollars and pretty red letters underneath saying don’t approach.” He bragged. “Husband of Charles Smith which they can’t find or charge. mama of the prettiest baby in four territories!” He leaned over and kissed Charles.

“Imma complicate feller you know?”

Charles smiled into the kiss. Nodding in agreement. “Yeah yeah you’re complicated. I’m glad you and Dyani are safe when I’m gone.”

“Miss ya awfully fierce when ya are gone. Makes me grumpy.”

“Those poor souls.”

“Ya got that right.”

[izzy-the-chaotic-gremlin]

Hello I have some fellers for y'all to meet

MEET SMG 8 AND SMG 2, cus cuz why not let's add on to this little bandwagon of eights we got :]

This is SMG 8 ⤴️

And this is SMG 2 ⤴️

Rants about them under cut!

Let's do 8 first!

She is extremely short, like 3 ft and a half kinda short

She is extremely energetic and kind of chaotic

She is the meme guardian of animation memes! And yes I'm talking about the kind that we all went through a phase constantly watching when we were seven

Using the ink pen that she has across her back she can draw anything, and those drawings can come to life aka anything she draws becomes reality

She has a pet Smurgle, here I put an image below so you all know what I'm talking about

She is on par with Mario's level of power but she doesn't use said power because she doesn't want to hurt anybody, she she does use her power is to cause chaos with her friends though >:]

She's a regular at SMG3's restaurant

She is extremely creative plus she has ADHD, and combining that she can practically make anything as long as her mind is up to it

She's good friends with Tori and Boopkins

She is surprisingly dirty minded, she's also the one to always initiate the kiss or the one to push her partner up against the wall and kiss them >:] she's also the one to suggest the dirty times in bed *wink wink*

She is a DemiGirl and lesbian

She is biologicaly male, and no she has not had bottom surgery cus she wants to have babies at some point in her life, also because, and I quote this from 8 themself "its makes me more cunty"

Her pod looks like this

oh dear God what am I doing

Hears some extra details

Her hat design ⤴️

The design of her eyes ⤴️

My head cannon relationships that she has with the other 8's

@bear-boi-5 Smg8 : honest to God she views him as an older brother figure / Uncle figure, also I headcanon that she will sit there and stand in front of him jumping on her heels and grabbing at the air a above her saying "up up!" Over and over until he finally snaps and picks her up, oftentimes she'll climb on his shoulders and just kind of ride around

@strange0-0storm Smg8 : honest to God she imprinted upon him like a baby duck, she will literally just follow him around everywhere he goes, what I'm trying to say is she really looks up to him and she just really really likes him in general, he's also a older brother / Uncle figure for her PS he's the funcle aka fun unkle :]

@mrfellsans Smg8 : she just observes him from afar like he's a creature that must be studied for science and research, she does like him though shes just not too sure about him

Ok let's do 2 now!

She's also pretty short like around like 4 ft tall

She is extremely protective of 8, like if you dare lay a finger on it she will make you say nighty night for a couple of days lafmo

Do you surprisingly strong physically, like the girl has flipping abs and everything

She has a black belt in karate

She has multiple tattoos that are unseen the eye, the only ones that you can see are the ones that go up her arm around the back of her shoulders and down to the other arm (aka the snake one)

Her tail works like an extra hand

She usually keeps her eyes closed like Falin for Dungeon Meshie, she does open them though when she is feeling a strong emotion or just surprised angry aor scared

Have yall ever seen The owl House? If you haven't or if you have two's magic works exactly like how that characters in TOH's works! She does the whole circle in the air thing as well (reference photos so you get the idea of it) also pls go watch The Owl House if you haven't seen it, its really good :]

She's the mean guardian of really old and timeless means, like the whole IS THAT THE BIET OF 87? and BUT THATS JUST A THEORY, A GAME THEORY! She also deals with TV show and movie meams like Cursed cat Alastor and this random ass screenshot for movies that get made into memes

She has a heavy Russian accent

She knows fluent Russian, German, and Japanese

She is female and lesbian

She calls 8 親愛なる and 私の愛 (親愛なる translates to my dear and 私の愛 translates to my love)

She has a pet cursed cat Alastor aka this thing

(oh Lord)

She is a year older than SMG 3 and SMG 4

She's also regular at SMG 3's Cafe

She has a crush on SMG 8 :]

She is super sleep deprived due to her staying up and making theories on games and movies, or just staying up all night watching Mat Pat lafmo

Her pod looks like this

Extra details on her (I'll add the rest later in a diff post)

Her eye design ⤴️

My head cannon relationships that she has with the other 8's

@bear-boi-5 Smg8 : she doesn't trust him at all, the only reason that he's allowed around SMG 8 is because 8 likes him too much for 2 to safely take them out, but if 8 dare lay even a finger on SMG 8 SMG 2 will imady make him say nighty night for a couple days

@strange0-0storm Smg8 : eh shes alright with him, I mean she doesn't fully trust him but it's not to the level of Bear-Boi's 8

@mrfellsans Smg8 : she likes him and considers him a good acquaintance :]

[oakshade]

Anons, those scared lil fellers. Asks should be sent proudly. Anyways.

My all time favourite random ship that nobody else has ever even thought of would be Ravenpaw x Longtail. Longtail idolizes Tigerclaw like hell, but by hanging around him a lot starts to notice that Ravenpaw's skittishness might not be just because he do be like that, but due to mistreatment. Then when Longtail does even a little something to protect Ravenpaw that cat falls head over heels for him. Longtail also does not recieve actual affection from anywhere, that's not a part of the deal for joining the Tigerclaw fanclub, so when Ravenpaw starts showing him that he just sort of melts and let's it happen. Longtail would find a way for Bluestar to notice how scared Ravenpaw seems to be around his mentor with sheer stubbornness if need be, make damn sure that he would get his warrior name and not be driven out the clan, and voila. Couple of all time. One of the agressive cats and the one scared of his own shadow. They're just neat. Thoughts?

OOOHH I like that you explained the whole thought process!! Usually someone just tells me two random cats that don't immediately make sense but with no context or information about how they think they'd react to each other, and I'm like "haha not for me but sure I guess!!" This hc makes a lot of sense and is pretty cute ^^

[lady06reaper]

👉👈 can we get a soulmate! AU for Butters maybe? Something a little sweet? Any soulmate trope you want, just love the boy so much!

Thank you for posting your writing I really love it ^^

my writing? *looks around* are you talking to me?

but srsly im glad you like my writing!

seeing as how I have freedom i have chosen the tattoo soulmate AU where when you turn 16 the first words your soulmate says to you is tattooed on your wrist

Leopold 'Butters' Stotch x reader hcs

So his parents forgot to mention what would happen on his 16th birthday

when his tattoo appeared, he looked at it and his first thoughts were

"Oh jeez, I'm grounded"

he looked at the phrase 'Are you alright?' and he got a lil warm feeling in his heart

like this random person who he has never met before CARES about him???

when your 16th birthday rolled around, you had known about the tattoo beforehand

you were just confused on the phrase that stared back at you

'Hey fellers!'

like who says fellers? an old southern gentleman?

ANYWAY

going to when you both have both of your tattoos

Butters was worried about what this phrase on his wrist was and decided to consult his 'best friend'

Eric MF Cartman

Cartman took one look at it and laughed

then got this brilliant idea

by putting Butters in a dangerous situation

FAST FOWARDING (it gets sweet in a lil bit :) )

you were hanging with the main four just talking about your soulmate tattoos when this little blond floof pops outta nowhere

"Hey fellers!"

"Oh, hey Butters,"

Did i forget to mention you said something about your tattoo and Cartman realized that you two were soulmates? I did? well now i said something

as soon as Butters gets close

he goes down

due to Cartman pushing him

you immediately bent down to see if he was alright

"Are you alright?"

when i tell you this mans eyes went big

he didn't anything at first, mostly because he was interrupted by you picking him up and taking him to the nurses office

When you arrived to the nurses office, you realized it was empty, as in there was no nurse.

"Great, the nurse isn't here. sit down and I'll get bandages," you sat the nervous bundle down on the nearest chair and went to the cupboards.

"Thank you," it was an almost inaudible whisper, but you caught it.

"For what?"

Butters flipped his arm over and showed you his tattoo that was now red. This goofy goof was your soulmate? It had now just dawned on you that Butters was the old southern gentleman that says fellers.

"Well," you took a seat besides the boy. "I suppose that means we're soulmates."

"Y-yea, I suppose so. Oh jeez," Butters yanked his arm away from your bandaging and shot his hands up to his head. A worried look painted his face, a concerned one adorned yours.

"My dad is gonna ground me if he finds out I have a soulmate!"

I had to channel my inner ball of anxiousness to write Butters, but I hoped you liked it anon! Thanks for the request!