#thank you for the tag!!! this one was Fun!

[oikarma]

we keep this love in a photograph

pairing: lando norris x wolff!reader

summary: toto wolff's daughter and his golden boy, kimi antonelli. match in heaven, right? despite all the cute pics taken of you and kimi over the years, it turns out you might like boys behind the cameras more.

a/n: thank you sm for being my first request!! this was really cute and fun to write and i hope you like it.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by kimi.antonelli, francolapinto and 770,341 others

y/nwolff: found a new photographer

view all 12,097 comments

olliebearman: idk what you're talking about p1 is nice but whoever was holding the camera in p3 did a horrible job

y/nwolff: yeah idk who that rat is 🤷‍♀️ must've snuck into the frame kimi.antonelli: why do you insist on hurting me

user1: soft launch??

user2: girl she's been posting him for years now we need real confirmation user3: but they'd look so cute together 🥺 user2: @/user2 that's what we've all been sayinggg

francolapinto: pfft what photographer i could do better

y/nwolff: take me out to dinner and we'll see user4: uh oh someone's never getting a mercedes seat user5: @/user4 PLEASE toto probably gave kimi his seat to make sure he'd treat y/n well franco might be getting a little something sent his way

user6: mother and the guy she's dating

user7: i literally love you y/n

lando: where's the "thank you lando for inviting me to this lovely dinner"

y/nwolff: i literally already repaid you 😒 lando: i guess i like calling in favors user8: they're so sibling coded

y/nscloset: immaculate style as always * liked by y/nwolff

totowolff_original: No drinking and driving.

y/nwolff: tell that to kimi i still don't have my license

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by username1 and 530,192 others

f1gossipofficial: 5 years of kimiyn! our fav bestfriend duo - or maybe something more?

tagged: kimi.antonelli, y/nwolff

view all 7,006 comments

user1: confirmation whennn

user2: so basically they've been teasing us since the last decade??

user3: maybe they don't want it to affect kimi's public view? they might think toto has a preference for him cause of him and y/n user4: @/user3 well the two of them certainly aren't private about their friendship

user5: i need what they have 😭

user6: if only i was pretty and rich and toto wolff's daughter and my boyfriend was pretty and rich and a formula one driver who drove for my dad

user7: they never hard launched but the cutest couple on the grid frfr

user8: guys! my friend and i were passing by this paddle place near where she lives and she saw y/n and kimi going inside. he was carrying her stuff (bags, drink) for her while she was yapping at 3000 miles an hour and she was blushing so hard

user9: what a gentleman user10: drop the loc please i'll be signing up for a yearly membership

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by lando and 701,328 others

y/nwolff: guess who got his ass whooped

tagged: kimi.antonelli, lando

view all 9,125 comments

totowolff_original: No cursing, Y/N.

y/nwolff: sorry dad i just had to rub it in ☹️ y/nwolff: promise i won't do it next time

kimi.antonelli: i swear you hate me

y/nwolff: it's a hate love thing kimi kimi.antonelli: where is the love???? user1: IS THIS KIMIYN CONFIRMED

lando: guess who got her ass whooped

y/nwolff: idk not me lando: 🤨 ru sure about that user2: not them bickering again lmaoo

user2: yes girl get your man

user3: kimi trying to help y/n against lando was so cute

user4: RIGHT he was all heart eyes

user5: ofc the photographer she was talking ab last post was him

user6: kimi serving romcom tortured boy love interest

user7: the way i understood this immediately is concerning

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by y/nwolff and 901,339 others

lando: nothing like a friendly match

view all 21,483 comments

user1: the way i thought that was his 🫣

user2: same girl same

user3: whoever took this photo needs a raise we're getting all the offseason lando content we need

user4: lando were you making sure kimi and y/n weren't getting too handsy

user5: poor guy having to thirdwheel

y/nwolff: nothing like a big ego

lando: you like it user6: hello?? why is it getting hot in here user7: @/user6 dont be weird they're like siblings user8: idk that was not a sibling comment...toto what are your thoughts on this

user9: hes so fine oh my god

mclaren: staying in shape during off-season i see

lando: aren't you proud of me admin

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by y/nwolff, totowolff_official and 870,193 others

kimi.antonelli: bit of a downgrade

tagged: lando, y/nwolff

view all 7,034 comments

user1: lando what are you doing in the tags 😭

user2: check his stories, he was having dinner w y/n and kimi maybe they wanted to bike around the city together

user3: he looks so fine on that bike

mercedesamgf1: looking sharp today, kimi

kimi.antonelli: thanks! user4: it's the girlfriend effect

y/nwolff: yeah you had hair in the first pic

kimi.antonelli: why do i put up with you y/nwolff: because i'm fun 🫶 much love user5: y/n be nice to your man he's balding from the stress

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by olliebearman and 270,145 others

f1gossipofficial: SPOTTED! kimi antonelli, y/n wolff, and lando norris spending time together during the off-season

view all 5,018 comments

user1: barbie and two kens

user2: i love how kimi is just in the background

user3: am i crazy or is this giving landoyn...like i can't unsee it

user4: and she's been posting him a lot recently.. user5: you're all crazy there's no way

user6: why is ollie in the likes

user7: she's so stunning

user8: giving mom, dad, and angsty teenager

user9: nono it's mother and son bonding while dad is on the phone user10: wtf is this family

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by totowolff_official and 1,039,472 others

y/nwolff: we kiss a lot, hope this helps ❤️

tagged: lando

view all 40,193 comments

user1: my kimiyn heart...

user2: absolutely RADIANT

totowolff_official: You better not be in the McLaren paddock or start wearing orange all the time.

y/nwolff: but i have to show my boy support!! totowolff_official: You can do it in private. lando: i promise she will sir user3: DID HE JUST- user4: freaky ahh user5: toto's comments backfiring LMAOO

user6: oml that one girl on twt was right

supermaxmaxmax: I WAS!!! im not crazy!!!

user7: is this what kimi meant by being downgraded lolol

kimi.antonelli: yes i went from friend to furniture y/nwolff: stfu you're still my best friend he's just more than that lando: yeah i'm a lot to take in at once 😉 user8: ????????

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

lando has added to their stories

[caption: too busy to be holding the camera this time]

replies:

user1: lando why you gripping onto her like that

y/nwolff: woah i look so hot

lando: you are very hot

user2: mother and fatherr 🛐

user3: poor kimi 😭 having to thirdwheel and having to be photographer

kimi.antonelli: i'm doing god's work here

lando: either you're improving, or maybe you just have great subjects 😊

[justtheclippy]

Tips and FAQ for Asks

Hello beautiful humans, I want to do my best to get to everyone's asks so here are a few things you can do to help make that happen! (if you're looking for the cast stream master list, skip to the bottom)

Please don't spam the same question repeatedly. I will get to you eventually, I promise! But when you submit the exact same thing multiple times, it just slows me down. I've got one single brain cell, please have mercy.

No spoiler requests. I cannot tell you anything about future episodes, when they will come out, what will happen to certain characters, how the story ends etc. We're limited on what we can say in general until more episodes release. The entire cast has signed NDAs (non disclosure agreement) preventing us from revealing anything, but more than that, we wouldn't want to ruin your experience of watching and engaging with the show organically! Trust me, just enjoy the ride, it's better that way.

Don't take anything too seriously. Please keep in mind most of these answers will just be for fun. My thoughts and opinions on the character, both for silly things like favorite dessert and more serious things like character analysis, are not hard and fast canon. Same goes for any of the actors. We can speculate about our characters, we know and understand them well, but when in doubt, assume its allllllllllllll non-canonical haha

Read through previous asks. This will help prevent asking things I've already answered. I'm going to be tagging (i swear I'll do it fr) my answers with #amanda asks and #tadc asks so you can find them more easily. If you do ask a question I've already answered IT'S OK DON'T PANIC I won't be upset haha

Even though I'll be tagging my answers so you can easily find them, here are a few frequently asked questions just to get them out of the way. If you decide to ask me something I've already answered, or something that goes against the guidelines above, I'll probably skip it, you silly geese.

Q: I've seen people use several different pronouns for you, what are your preferred pronouns? A: They/them and I prefer masc leaning terms generally! I'm queer, NB and very open about my identity. But people will sometimes use she/her because they don't know. I will never get upset with someone for not knowing- it's ok. But now that you've read this, you know! So you can go forth educated. You're welcome to correct anyone who doesn't know, but please be kind to each other. We've all been the person who didn't know before.

Q: What do you think of X ship? A: I love and support all the ships! Ships are part of a healthy fandom, keep creating content that makes you feel seen and that YOU want to see, that's the foundation of creativity. And if anyone disagrees with you, remind them that a lot of classics are just fanfiction about the gods at the time. It's always been here.

Q: What is your favorite ship? A: Bunnydoll and Buttonblossom, because the dynamics are so much fun.

Q: Do you like X AU? A: Yes. It doesn't matter what it is, yes. I love the AUs and if it's a new one, you better include a link so I can find it. I want all of them, thank you so muuuuuuuuch~

Q: Have you seen or played X game/show/movie/meme etc.? A: Always happy to chat about other media! But if you wanna ask about something specific, please include a link or explanation because lets be just so very honest, half the time my brain is off in adhd land so there's a good chance I'll have no idea what you're talking about at first.

Q: Have you watched Raggedy Ann & Andy: A Musical Adventure? A: Not yet! But due to VERY POPULAR REQUEST I will be putting together a watch stream to watch it live with yall. Once that's happened, I'll put the link here.

Q: Have you seen Queen's second game and will you be playing it? A: Yes, we've all seen the trailer and we're very excited! We will be playing it as a full cast, just like last time, as soon as the game is finished. For now, please go enjoy the demo and support the team! Once it's out and we're ready to stream it, I'll post the link here.

Q: Can you come to X convention? A: I will come to any convention that yall want to see me at!

BUT

In order for that to happen, you have to request me directly with the convention. Most will have either a request form on their site or a specific email for requests. Just write in that you would like to see me at their event, and then they will get in touch with my agent to book me!

Q: Can I request a song for you to sing? A: Of course! I promise yall I'll do my best to put out more songs this year. If there's a cover you want me to consider doing, or an artist/composer you'd like to hear me work with, let me know!

Outside of that, if you just want a little clip, you can drop requests in the asks and if I know the song I might record a bit. This is COMPLETELY dependent on time, especially if I'm busy. Please understand ❤️

You can also make requests during stream signings, which is easier to accommodate in the moment. Just put the request in the order notes, and I'll sing a little bit for you while I sign IF I know the song. So choose wisely.

Q: Can I write an ask just to show you cool stuff or tell you you're awesome? A: Of course you can! You can also tag me in stuff, that's ok too. I appreciate all the love and support yall have shown for me, Ragatha and the show in general. Yall are truly incredible. ❤️

Q: Do you have a PO Box so we can send you stuff? A: I'm setting it up THIS WEEK. I will post it here when it's ready.

Q: Where can I find X stream that the cast did? A: Moving forward, I will keep a master list of our group streams in order of date aired, to the best of my ability. If I miss one, let me know and I'll get it on here!

Saberspark TADC Cast Interview

Streamily Signing #1 (Amanda, Michael, Alex, Marissa)

Streamily Signing #2 (Amanda and Michael)

Streamily Signing #3 (Amanda and Sean)

Streamily Signing #4 (Amanda, Sean, Alex, Michael, Marissa, Vera, Hamish)

TADC Fan Game Stream: Game 1

Streamily Signing #5 (Amanda, Alex, Ashley, Sean, Michael, Marissa, Vera, Hamish, Wiz)

Fast Food Simulator Charity Stream (Amanda, Lizzie, Marissa, Michael, Ashley)

[ramshacklerumble]

“What? It’s just bone meal.”

(i was minding my own business when this au appeared and grabbed me by the hair. thanks @quartztwst for this incredibly fun au. i love the energy of hunting azul ashengrotto for sport.)

i really liked the idea of ny!gia being an npc that isn’t for or against the happenings around ashengrotto, however quartz is able to unlock new murder and/or disposal options through them depending on how she interacts with gia. generally speaking, gia won’t sound an alarm if they catch something suspicious— however they will remember and this can affect their decisions. be wary though, it’s possible to create a negative dynamic with gia in which they will betray or actively become an enemy.

ITEMS:

Phone + Earbuds: Gia loves music and striking up a conversation about varying genres can help open up Gia— if correct dialogue choices are made, anyway. Oh, you listen to Napalm Jam Revengance? Name three songs.

Trowel: Gia spends much of their time tending to plants and so a trowel is often seen on their person. It’s oddly sharp.

Experimental Phials: Depending on what ingredients are brought to Gia, the rapport made with them, and if their interest has been piqued— Gia can be convinced to create varying substances to aid (or harm) Quartz. Gia appreciates a guinea pig. Willing or not.

Berries: You can eat these. Once.

Notebook: Gia’s notes on all plants and procedures they work on, as well as other secret journal entries. This notebook can be stolen by either Quartz or other characters— Quartz can choose to return the notebook, use it to create poisons herself (with a higher possibility of failure), or use it as blackmail to get Gia to work for her. Many different possibilities, though Gia assures there are far easier ways to die.

TRIVA:

Has a strange, volatile dynamic with Ashengrotto’s left hand man. No one is quite sure what it is, but they sure do interact.

A top ranking student

If Gia is befriended, they will actively cover for any suspicious activity or make up alibis instead of completely minding their own business

They can be convinced to use their experiments on others themself, although it’s easier to convince them to hand over what they made while they turn a blind eye to any following consequences.

Likes cute, kitsch items. Especially clown themed.

tag list:

@cyanide-latte @inmateofthemind @tixdixl @winterweary @thehollowwriter @jovieinramshackle

@theleechyskrunkly @skriblee-ksk @boopshoops @the-trinket-witch @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @kimikitti

@s-t-y-x @nightwingshero @water-writings @beneathsakurashade @oya-oya-okay @scint1llat3 (dm to be added)

[frownyalfred]

you may have seen me in your ao3 notifs over the last few days... Provenance has always been one of my all time favorite Batman fics. And the other day I just decided to read basically everything you've ever written. and when I tell you you made me love tropes I normally avoid i'm not exaggerating (ahem a room full of coral). But mostly! what i'm here to say is dead man's party is my everything! I am absolutely obsessed with your interpretation of Martha and her relationship with Jay.

Like jeSUS way to make me get emotional!

(I've been recommending it to basically anyone who will sit still long enough to listen to me ramble about fanfic) Thanks for all you do for the fandom I am such a fan of you and your work. Keep having fun in our collective sandbox! <3

chanting join us in the a/b/o tag, join us, join us

Thank you so much! Jewish Martha Wayne is so important to me. I never thought she would appeal to so many other people too! She’s truly what Jason needs. No nonsense, sharp and critical, but caring beyond measure. She will shank a guy for you. She will tell you those pants are too small in front of all your friends. She will yell at her son even though he can’t hear her.

Will do! Can’t stop me from writing at this point 🫡🫡🫡

[thelocalconstellation]

Thanks for the tag! :D

Here's a few random bits, I ran out of the house to 'go make friends' when I was a small child and didn't tell my grandmother (who was supervising) that I had the thought to do such a thing. I did not get kidnapped! I have no recollection of this.

My elementary school lost me on the bus on my first day of kindergarten. this also happened to both my brothers. I did not get kidnapped during this fiasco. I also have no recollection of this.

The last two summers I've worked at the local amusement park, and I'm hoping to go back again this year!

When I was little, the following order of events happened. My grandmother gives me grapes one morning. I take a nap. Now, afternoon, I am found eating something. it's grapes. Where the hell did I get the grapes. Presumably, I stashed them in my cheeks like a strange chipmunk. Again, I have no recollection of this.

@skyshinigamialchemist @mayothefae @nicoandindy @varteeny1234 If you want!!! Have fun!! :D

it's so weird to me that everyone on this website is a human person outside of their weird internet niche so rb this with a random bit of your lore

[booksandabeer]

Crowdsourcing a Fic Rec List: Stucky & Peter Parker

Well, look at that!

Due to the numerous responses to this post, and since things have become a little cluttered there (different reblog threads, some recs are in tags or in comments, etc), I thought it would be a shame if anything got lost. So, I decided to compile a list of all the submitted recs for Stucky fics that also feature Peter Parker. Of course, I couldn't help myself and added a rec of my own. Fics that were mentioned multiple times are only listed once, and, if one was provided, I kept the original commentary. I hope I credited everyone correctly. If I got something wrong or missed anything, please let me know.

Thank you to everyone who shared recs, commented, or reblogged the original post to get more eyes on it. You're all wonderful! 💙

Here we go:

💙 recommended by @thankssaragorn

🕸 taking my time but I don't know where by cosmicocean | 35K, T so much fun, post-TWS Bucky lowkey mentoring Peter in being a hero and then some family and healing stuff, very sweet. 🕸 Steve Rogers Is (Not) A Good Influence by attackofthezee | 4K, T a goofy oneshot where Peter joins Steve on his Bucky-hunt. 🕸 the rattle of their hearts by iron_spider | 59K, T | part 1 of 2 in rattle universe series an IW fix-it where Tony & Steve try to fix things and Peter & Bucky are trapped in the soul stone together, also trying to fix things. Features irondad if that ain't your thing. 🕸 Dear Teacher, With Love by fancyh | 61K, T doesnt ~strictly~ fit the prompt but i love it so much im always gonna rec it. Bucky becomes a HS teacher post-TWS and Peter is in his class they rlly don't interact a ton but I just love this fic i can't help it.

❤ recommended by @sparkagrace

🕸 Steve and Bucky low key adopt Peter Parker by Andthrowmethekey | series in 3 parts | 3.5K, T 🕸 Drive It Like You Stole It: A Bodyswap by AggressiveWhenStartled | 28K, E | part 1 of 2 in The Old Codgers GreatestHits Album series

🤍 recommended by @eternalspine

🕸 longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak by honeycombclaire | 96K, M | part 1 of 2 in trigger words series Peter being raised by Bucky in Hydra as an assassin but he was Tony’s biological son that had been kidnapped as a toddler. I literally cannot say enough good things about this fic you should all go read it right now. I would inject it in my veins if I could. It genuinely took me several days to be normal again after reading it. There’s even a sequel!

💙 recommended by @arctic-turtle-cassiopeia

🕸 Astronomy in Reverse by pansley | 185K, T

❤ recommended by @maplefiasco

🕸 Make it Till You Fake It by AggressiveWhenStartled | 4K, E another super fun one by [this author]. 🕸 When I Am On Your Shoulders by Lady_Blackwater | 165K, M Steve reconnects with Bucky while going through a divorce from Tony and trying to navigate parenting their teen son Peter. I remember binging this in a day, I couldn't put it down.

🤍 recommended by @funkylittlelurker

🕸 Is this child Venomous? by rWolfWrites | 80K, M | part 1 of 4 in Stucky Shares Custody of Peter Parker series It's angsty as all get out, but it has a happy ending. Basically, it's a HYDRA Peter AU, wherein Peter is an asset right along Bucky. Peter is like, 12 at the youngest, so it's mcu Peter, don't worry. Bucky drops Peter off a Steve's house, designation Steve as Peter's new Handler. You can see why this might be bad. I won't spoil much, but the Maximoff twins also come into play! (Bucky saves them)

💙 recommended by @leihaddock

🕸 The Trials and Tribulations of the Watermelon Werewolf by BlueSimplicity | 67K, E Explicit between Steve and Bucky & Bucky basically lowkey adopts Peter. 🕸 Rainbow Dinosaurs by holla_the_forestfairy | ~1K, G short but sweet queer story

❤ recommended by @fsbc-librarian

🕸 Peter & Bucky Are Pals by DJ_unicornsrgr8 | series in 11 parts | 147K, G-T This series is set in the verse of Owlet's Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail, which is absolutely wonderful. 🕸 Steve Rogers' Dad Face and Other Common Hazards by AggressiveWhenStartled | 4K, T | part 1 of 4 in Workplace Hazards series 🕸 we leave through the fire by justanotherblond | 41K, T | part 1 of 3 in timshel series -> Also, always worth checking out the library for more fics!

🤍 recommended by @booksandabeer

🕸 Praetorian by RecoveringTheSatellites | 28K, M | part 1 of 2 in Amor Manet series Historical AU featuring Bucky as a pagan witch, Steve as a disgraced former Praetorian Guard, and Peter as a young recruit to the Roman army. Maybe a bit of a cheat, since Peter is not central to the story, but in the moments he does appear, he definitely makes an impression, and what we get to see of his mentor-mentee relationship with Steve really resonates. Also, look, this is just a banger of a fic with lots of action and romance that everyone should read.

💙 recommended by @stuckydrewx

🕸 Extra special treat! Drew shared a whole other fic rec list that she made a few months ago. Yay!

Once again, thank you so much to everyone who contributed to this crowdsourced rec list—you're all fantastic!

[aventurineswife]

Hi! Can I request taking a day off to play in the snow with Gepard? Ik it's a little childish but my school let us out for a snow day after 7 years of no snow and the snow is amazing. Anyway have a nice day 🩷

A Truce in the Snow

Summary: In the peaceful, snow-covered city of Belobog, you convince Gepard to take a rare day off from his duties as captain of the Silvermane Guards. What begins as a playful snowball fight turns into a heartfelt moment of connection, reminding Gepard that even someone as duty-bound as him deserves a chance to relax and enjoy life.

Tags: Gepard x Reader, Fluff, Snowball Fight, Lighthearted Romance, Comfort, Playful Banter, Established Feelings.

A/N: damn what type of school do you go to? I never experienced snow in my entire living life (it never snowed here 😔)

The city of Belobog stood silent under a thick, shimmering blanket of snow. The Fragmentum's gloom seemed far away today, with the sun casting a golden glow over the crystalline frost. It was rare to have a day of such peace, but you had seized the opportunity, determined to drag Captain Gepard Landau away from his endless duties.

Standing outside the barracks, you stomped your boots against the snow, your breath fogging the air as you waited. Before long, the heavy doors creaked open, and there he was—Gepard, clad in his uniform, the silver-blue armor glinting in the sunlight. His fur accessory swayed slightly as he approached, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement.

“You’re persistent,” he said, folding his arms.

“You deserve a break, Captain,” you countered, tilting your head with a grin. “When was the last time you had fun? Come on, you can spare a day to enjoy the snow.”

Gepard hesitated, his eyes scanning the city streets. “I have patrols scheduled, and—”

“—and I’m sure the other guards can manage without you for a few hours,” you interrupted, grabbing his gloved hand. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”

He sighed, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “All right, but just for a little while.”

The two of you found yourselves in a quiet clearing near the edge of the city. The snow crunched beneath your feet as you led the way, pointing out the perfect spot for your plans. Gepard followed, his armored boots leaving deep impressions in the pristine white.

“So, what exactly are we doing here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You grinned mischievously, scooping up a handful of snow. “This.”

Before he could react, the snowball hit him squarely in the chest, leaving a dusting of white on his polished armor. For a moment, he stood frozen, his expression one of pure disbelief.

“Oh, you’re in trouble now,” he said, his voice carrying a rare playful edge.

It was on.

Gepard bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, expertly forming a snowball before launching it your way. You ducked behind a tree, laughing as it sailed past, narrowly missing you. The two of you darted back and forth, snowballs flying in every direction as laughter filled the air.

Despite his stoic reputation, Gepard was surprisingly competitive, his precision as sharp on the snowfield as it was in battle. But even he couldn’t resist the lightheartedness of the moment, his usual composure giving way to genuine smiles and carefree laughter.

Eventually, you called a truce, both of you collapsing onto a soft snowbank. Gepard leaned back, his hair catching the sunlight as he exhaled a misty breath.

“You were right,” he admitted, his voice soft. “This was… nice.”

You turned your head to look at him, catching the rare warmth in his expression. “You don’t always have to carry everything on your shoulders, Gepard. You’re allowed to enjoy yourself, too.”

He glanced at you, his blue eyes softening. “Thank you for reminding me. I don’t think I’ve felt this relaxed in… a long time.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, the peaceful stillness of the snowy landscape wrapping around you like a blanket. Then, slowly, he reached out, his gloved hand brushing against yours in the snow.

“We should do this again,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, lacing your fingers with his. “Anytime, Captain.”

And in that quiet moment, under the gentle light of Belobog’s winter sun, it was as if the weight of the world had lifted—if only for a little while.

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 11

Chapter 11: fevered Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn snow, cuts to the bone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What has that shame ever done but made you worse? 

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

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

Hopeful bastard.

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

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

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

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

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

 It’s always the ones you trust. 

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

“I can imagine. What kinda mother sends a pretty thing like you on a fool's errand? You really thought you was gonna bring your ol’ granny a doctor in this?” He reprimands her, she might need it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You disgust her, don’t go kidding yourself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You ain’t that bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, I-” 

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

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

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

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

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

His fingers graze over the skin on her neck, uncovered by the collar of the union suit he lent her. Here in the dark of the small hallway, he can swear there’s something in the way she breathes, shudders. “I think you need a man to take care of you, honey, need a man to keep you inside- wouldn’t let you go out alone like this if you was my woman… Lemme show you how a man looks after a girl like you,” He’s aware that he sounds like a right bastard but he’s only telling the truth. His hand settles at her back, like it’s supposed to be there. They’re meant to be, all he has to do is show her. 

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

[v-for--valentine]

thank you for the tag :3

i'm very prepared to be judged for my edgy-ass taste in music, lmfao

i'll tag @tm0g @hourglass-doll @moth-lover-not-mother and @terrencetheshark13 have fun y'all <3

Challenging you all!

Put your music library on shuffle, then list the first five songs that come up in a poll to let people vote for which one they like the most!

Then tag Tumblr friends to keep the game going!

[the-inkwell-variable]

author ask tag

thank you so much for the tag, @the-golden-comet! ooh this is gonna be fun!

i'm going to focus on my current wip, Why Should I Be Careful? I'm Going To Die Anyway! because it's still very much in the planning stages (despite how much I'm writing for it) and I have Thoughts

What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

I'll be honest, I haven't really thought that far ahead. I suppose, if there is a lesson to take from WSIBC?IGTDA!, it might be that you should always chase your goals and desires, and screw what other people think. Maybe put a little more thought and planning into yours than Aura does hers, though. I mean, she almost dies due to her recklessness. Don't be like Aura.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

Well, it's a zombie book - I love zombies, in case you can't tell - so the world is an amalgamation of zombie stuff I love. The zombies are based off of the Train to Busan zombies. This is a self-insert mess, so I'm using the town and people I know in the town as location and characters. Little tropes here and there that I love in movies and books alike. It's just a big chimera of stuff that I grab from stuff I remember and shove into it. It definitely needs polish when it's done, but I'm having a blast so far, so I'm'a keep doing it :3

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help the reader grow as a person?

Uhhhhhh this is a tough question. Right now, Aura is trying to make it to Roger's Grocery Mart to save her girlfriend, but most of the time, she's just trying to have a good time in the zombie apocalypse and hopefully not die. She does eventually grow into a character that (mostly) thinks things through and takes other people's situations into account, so I suppose the lesson is "the world doesn't revolve around you - be kind and helpful to others"?

As for what I'm trying to achieve... mostly, to be honest, I just want people to pick up my book and have a good time reading it. I want to write a zombie book because it's my passion and because there aren't enough zombie books out there. I guess I'm trying to inspire others? To show them that you can survive an impossible situation if you work hard and think things through?

How many chapters is your story going to have?

The only time I've written a full-length book (sorry, the only two times, forgot about Zero: ALPHA), it had about twenty-odd chapters. Z:A had...uh...thirty? That was a long time ago and I sadly no longer have that draft. This one is going to go until it's done. Hopefully more than thirty though!

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original content! I have no idea where I'm going to post it. I'm torn between Draft2Digital (originally Smashwords) or Substack. Thing is, I'm really bad at marketing and keywords and all that technical stuff that goes into publicizing, so I'm really hesitant to share it at all. I'm the type of person that gets absolutely morally devastated if my own self-inflicted goals aren't met, and I'm not sure if I can handle that kind of crushing heartbreak with this one lol

So yeah. Might publish, might not. Unsure right now.

When did you start writing?

My dad set up a Windows 95 computer for me in his office, his old one, and taught me the basics of using it. I was five, about to turn six. I immediately sat down and wrote a story about unicorns. I've been writing ever since.

I didn't start writing fanfiction until I was thirteen and had just binge-watched Lord of the Rings for the first time. We don't talk about those works. They were awful.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

Write it. Oh it's cringe? Who cares? Write it. Oh, it's a rare pair? Write it. You're worried people will hate it? Fuck the haters. Write it. Writing is about having fun. Writing is about pouring your soul onto the page. Writing is about getting those ideas out of your head so they don't drive you insane. It's about reaching that one person that finds your work and loves it. Even if no one reads it - you still accomplished something. You still wrote it. And no one can take that from you.

I have so many writers in my follow list. Uhh. I have no idea how many are still active, so I'm just going to tag who I know and hope for the best lol

@idyllicocean, @keeping-writing-frosty, @bloodtiesnovel, @asher-writes, @kitswrite, @theink-stainedfolk, @karkkidoeswriting, @lavender-gloom, @orphanheirs, @aquixoticwrites, @alinacapellabooks, @marlowethelibrarian, @flock-from-the-void, @dyrewrites, @storycraftcafe, @writer-imagination, @toragay-writing, @inseasofgreen, @stephtuckerauthor, @thatndginger, @finickyfelix, @eternalwritingstudent, @drchenquill, @paeliae-occasionally, @the-golden-comet, @talesofsorrowandofruin, @watermeezer, @goldfinchwrites, @winterandwords, @badscientist, @clairelsonao3, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @leahpardo-pa-potato, @mjparkerwriting, @rowanwriting, @oliolioxenfreewrites, @emelkae, @rita-rae-siller, @rebelxwriter, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @stesierra, @francineiswriting, @sunset-a-story, @chauceryfairytales, @hollyannewrites, @jaydenswaywrites, @captain-kraken, @violets-in-her-arms-writes, @romy-thewriter, @pure-solomon, @writingmaidenwarrior, @koiwrites

go, go follow them. they're all so good and make my timeline glow.

[writingdevil]

Hii! Hewwo!!! Finally got the courage and an idea to get here haha. First of all I wanted to thank you for Tongues and Teeth. Like, really, big thanks. This fic got me through a pretty bad illness, and I found myself waiting for every new chapter. And, well, of course, it was an indirect reason for me even being here... I really enjoyed reacting on your fic in tags, and that, in fact, gave me the courage and impuls to post my own stuff. As for a prompt... Slay the Princess is happening at night, but rarely someone appreciated the stars. But they still were there. And in post-Tongues and Teeth they are there, too. I just thought it would be interesting to touch some voices' feelings and opinions when they are just stargazing. It could be about any voice really, or any group of voices, maybe you'll even explore them all - I would love to see it anyway :> Have a great day!!!

(Oh my God,you're so sweet!Thank you for liking my fic that much-I never expected people to actually be invested in my story.I'm really sorry that you were going through that illness,but I'm so touched that my story helped you get through it.I always love seeing your reaction to my fics-it's one of the things I look forward too!I love your idea and I hope you enjoy this,and that you have an amazing day!)

(This is post Tongues and Teeth)

It wasn't often that Contrarian liked to be still.He much preferred to be doing something that pissed one of the others-mainly Oppy-off.He liked keeping everyone on their toes,not knowing what he was about to do next-and no,he's definitely still not bitter from Oppy calling him predictable.Why would you think that?

But tonight,Contrarian was honestly happy to just relax with his flock,and stargaze with them all.

He couldn't remember who's idea it had been, probably one of the softer ones like Hero or Smitten,but eventually they all found themselves sitting out on the roofs of their bird houses at night, gazing up at the stars.

Contrarian never noticed how pretty the night sky was.Or did he ever even get the chance to,back in the Construct?Either way,it was nice to just chill out,take it easy,and look up at the stars-

"I don't see the appeal of this."

Well,not everyone felt the same way.

Contrarian chuckled,looking down at Cold,who was lying on his back and staring up at the sky in boredom.Cold hadn't seen the point in stargazing, but had still allowed Contrarian to drag him up here,and he had been silent ever since.

Contrarian had a feeling that Cold wouldn't particularly like this one activity,even if everyone had come out.He leaned back on his hands and asked,"No?You don't think the stars are interesting and cool to look at?"

"They're lights in the sky."

"Yeah,but do you think they're pretty?"Cold hummed in thought,before looking away as he replied,"You could certainly call them mesmerizing, if you were poetic enough."Contrarian snorted, knowing for a fact that Smitten has definitely described the stars as exactly that before.

"Mesmerizing doesn't equal interesting though," Cold quickly added,and Contrarian sighed,sitting up properly to tuck his knees under his chin."Yeah,I thought you'd say that,"he said,hoping to hide his disappointment in his voice.

He wasn't sure if Cold caught it or not,but he shrugged and looked back up at the sky."It was nice for a few minutes,but it doesn't make me feel much."

"Well not everything has to be about feeling something grand and overwhelming."He caught the flash of surprise on Cold's face,and then Contrarian's smile fell into a regretful frown.

This felt like a weird conversation to have,especially considering that himself and Cold were the known mischief makers of the flock.Contrarian just liked to do things that were fun,and his realm of fun had gotten a whole lot bigger now that they had their own bodies.

Cold was in that same boat,in which he could freely got out and find things to do that could potentially get rid of that numbness in his chest.The two of them spent most of their days discovering every fun thing that they couldn't before,not with that annoying Echo keeping them trapped.

He glanced back down at Cold,only to find him staring up at the sky with an empty look in his eyes. To anyone else,you would think that that was just Cold's natural expression,but Contrarian's been around him long enough to pick up the slight bitterness in his eyes,and he immediately felt bad.

He knew Cold had trouble with going about life without wanting something to make him feel something.He knew that in some ways-getting their own bodies had been harder to achieve that, because now Cold was responsible for everything that his body did.

What he chose to do,to hear,to experience,was all up to him,and sometimes his body and mind couldn't handle it.But the only reason it was difficult,was because the Decider wasn't here anymore.It was easier to want to feel something new,and block out anything that he deemed unimportant,when the situation involved whether to slay another person or not,and the horrifying consequences of it-all while hiding behind another greater being.

Contrarian sighed,then looked around at the other houses near them,and said,"I know this isn't your usual brand of fun and excitement."Cold just hummed in response,still not looking at him."But I think taking a moment to chill and relax is nice too."

"Easy for you to say,"Cold said,"you can be entertained by anything,and boredom can be easily fixed.You're not as...rigid as I am."Contrarian shrugged,looking back up at the stars."You never know until you try."

Cold huffed in quiet amusement,and Contrarian watched as his wings twitched and spread out and in-a surefire way to tell that Cold was getting restless,and was about to leave.

But Contrarian didn't want him to go.He wanted to be able to enjoy the loud and the quiet moments with Cold,without Cold feeling like it was pointless.

So he squinted up at the starry sky,until he grinned playfully,scooting closer and leaning down to whisper into Cold's ear.He pointed up at the sky and quietly said,"You know,if you squint,you can kinda see Skeptic's grumpy face in the sky."

Cold was confused for a few seconds,before he chuckled lightly,and Contrarian grinned in victory. Cold now had a soft smile on his face as he gazed up at the sky."You'll turn anything into a joke,won't you?"

Contrarian giggled,leaning away from the other bird now."Yeah,why not?Nothing's fun if everything's so serious all the time."

"But eventually even clowns get tired at telling jokes all the time."

Contrarian froze at Cold's empty words,before quickly turning to face him,and his heart twisted in guilt-something that didn't happen a lot,at the subtle sad look on Cold's face.

He thought Contrarian was getting bored of his own ways?He thought that stargazing meant that he was getting dull?

Contrarian would be offended if he didn't think this wasn't deeply hurting Cold,no matter how much the icy one would try to deny it.He thought that he was losing the one flockmate that could understand the way he thought and operated, leaving him an outcast in his own flock.

That wouldn't do.

Contrarian sighed loudly,then casually threw an arm over Cold's shoulders,which meant that his body was half bent down to even manage that,and even then,his arm was actually just circling the top of Cold's head.

He stayed in that position for a few minutes,until Cold eventually asked,"What are you doing?"

"I'm just-taking the moment in."

There was a small pause,before Cold then asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well,"Contrarian began,"it's such a nice night out, and it's rare that we're all doing something that isn't eating or having a meeting.I just wanted to take this moment in."

"Why would you bother with 'taking it in'?You could have moments like these all the time,and they'll just replace the last memory."

"Yeah,"Contrarian agreed,"but nothings gonna beat the first time you went stargazing with your whole flock." There was a fondness in Contrarian's voice that had Cold looking up at him curiously,but Contrarian took that moment to look up and around at the rest of his flock.

"There's just something-special,about moments like these,and it makes you want to stay there for as long as possible."

Contrarian's gaze went straight to Hero,who was giggling as he watched Hunted preen Stubborn's wings,and the preening appeared to be making Stubborn sleepy,to the point that he was struggling to keep his eyes open while laying on his chest. Hero smiled at them fondly,and started to pet the feathers on Stubborn's head.

Contrarian smiled at the sight,then his gaze drifted to the far left of them,where Smitten and Skeptic seemed to be utterly transfixed by the display of stars in the sky.Contrarian watched as Smitten excitedly pointed up at the sky,blurting out what was sure to be some sappy,poetic mess,looking over at Skeptic with pure glee in his eyes.

Skeptic actually looked quite calm and relaxed in this moment,matching Smitten's passion with a more calmer enthusiasm,gesturing up at the night sky and talking just as much as his counterpart was.

It was funny to imagine the conversation they must be having-a mix of lovey-dovey mush and innocent curiosity-but it also sounded very sweet.

"What's the point of dragging out something special?"Cold asked,"It's just going to make the moment boring more quickly."Contrarian made a noise of uncertainty."I don't think so.There's always something interesting to pick out."

He glanced over at their right,where Paranoid and Oppy were huddled close,talking quietly to themselves-probably the most unexpected and fascinating friendship to come out of this whole thing.

Paranoid-or Jitters,as Oppy loved to call him-was hugging himself for comfort,and had an anxious look in his eye as he spoke to Oppy,who was giving him his full attention,completely ignoring the illuminating sky above them.

Then Oppy smiled,in a way that Contrarian knew was hard for the other to easily do without fear,and softly draped his wing around Paranoid's shoulders, who's tense body instantly melted at the gesture, face wiped clean of stress,as he instead smiled and gave Oppy a grateful look.

Contrarian's attention was quickly snatched by the duo not too far away from them-Broken and Cheated.Broken had tucked his knees under his chin and looked to be in complete awe at the stars above him,and Contrarian wondered if he had found a new love to worship and submit to.

But then he saw the way that Cheated's attention was in no way on the stars-but instead on Broken. He was resting his arm on his knee,his cheek in his hand,and he had the most fond and lovestruck look that Contrarian has ever seen-that he truly believed that Cheated could give Smitten a run for his money.

He giggled and finally looked back down at Cold, who didn't seem so upset anymore,but instead was struggling to understand Contrarian's words."I don't get it,"he finally admitted,and Contrarian made a quick,sweeping gesture at their flock and said,"I'm just saying that-maybe this moment isn't for right now."

"What?"

Contrarian sat up properly again,and Cold was quick to copy him,determined to understand. Contrarian looked back up at the twinkling stars and said,"Maybe this moment is purely to look back on,to remember the soft times that made you happy.Maybe-maybe these are moments to make you feel warm in the future,whatever that may be."

Contrarian quickly glanced at Cold,suddenly feeling embarrassed at having talked so much without it sounding like a joke."I-I just like the thought of that as well.At being able to sit still,and still have good memories to look back on,with the rest of you weirdos."

He refused to look back at Cold,just waiting for the other to poke fun at or dismiss what he said.He couldn't decide what would be worse.

But then Cold hummed softly,scooting closer to nudge him with his wing."I suppose,"he quietly said, and Contrarian risked a quick look,"that you can sort of see Skeptic's grumpy face."

Contrarian froze,before he burst out laughing,and he even heard Cold's light laughter join in.

It ended being a perfect memory for Contrarian to cherish forever.

[sarah-kings]

Thanks for the tag! I had a lot of fun with this one!

My blog description literally is the ace from space, soooo...

I think that's pretty much how my blog could be summed up.

Now let's see who to tag...

@sorizaza05 @munchkin1156 @tiny-brain @ravetillyoucry @smolboiremy and @beentobeetle, no need to feel pressured if you don't wanna do it!

Design what your blog would look like if it was a person!

The picrew

I tag @red-skady @superchat @eviligo @maplepastry @nek0hime13 @bestgirlsyndrome @gentlesakura @games2girlsdotcom @deadlycoffee @bunny-stickers @starbitsun @888lvl @little-ikea-waldo @delanore-roosevelt @fefeps @imnevernice no pressure at all!!

If anyone else wants to join dont hesitate to reblog!!

[cognitiveoverload]

Suicide game (Hwang In-ho/Front Man x reader)

Summary: You get an idea during a game, a proposition for a new set of players. Since the Host isn’t present, you talk to the Front Man about it.

Tags: mention of suicidal thoughts

All the other VIPs are busy talking to each other, discussing how much they bet on certain players, how much they’ve lost or won so far. To you, it’s all background noise, you couldn’t care less about it. Your focus is narrowed to the man in gray and black, the Front Man as he was called, because there’s something you want to discuss with him, preferably without an audience.

So, you wait for the perfect moment, which arrives halfway through the ongoing game. After noting that everyone else is busy drinking or watching the players, you stand up and walk over to your target, leaning against the railing he’s standing next to. He doesn’t say anything, only watches you, waiting for whatever you want to say.

“If I remember correctly, these players are here because they need money due to their debts, right?” you wonder casually. There’s a beat of silence, and he doesn’t have to explain what it’s about. “The old man told me when he mentioned this game.”

He lets out a humming sound, tasting your words, trying to imagine his boss talking to someone about this so freely. But Il-nam has a soft spot for you, he knew your father, and when your parents died, he took you under his wings; he gave you really good advice on how to use your inheritance, and he generally helped you if you needed anything. Inviting you to be a VIP when he joined the game was a strange thing, but he survived, and for you, that was enough.

The Front Man looks out the window, watching the players argue about which glass sheet to pick, then turns back to you. “We’re giving them a chance to–”

You quickly raise a hand to dismiss the whole train of thought. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but hear me out. Wouldn’t it be fun to invite suicidal people to the games? Choosing a method isn’t always easy, and they might be debating whether or not to kill themselves, but this? They can die doing something… fun,” you suggest, aware of the fact your smile can be seen under the mask that doesn’t cover your mouth.

“And what makes you think they would be interested?” he asks, and you can hear it in his tone that he considers your idea.

With a shrug, you glance at the bridge and take a sip of your champagne as you watch a player fall to their death. “I sure would join if you made it happen.” You say this so casually that it takes him off guard, at least that’s what his silence is telling you. “Can you ask your boss if he would be interested? I have the money to fund part of it, and I’m sure I could help convince a few other people too. The winner could choose between a bullet to the head and the cash prize.”

For a few moments he’s watching you in silence, but then he takes a deep breath and turns to look at the other guests. “Which one would you choose?” he asks.

“Death.”

He turns to you, watching you in silence for a while. You hear the sound of breaking glass, followed by a high-pitched scream from the arena, but you don’t tear your gaze away from the man in front of you. It’s a staring match, one you’re determined to win. Right now, it feels like the two of you were in a bubble, safely locked away from the other people in the room.

Someone in a red suit and a mask with a square logo stops a few feet away, and the Front Man lets out a sigh before signaling him to wait. “I’ll talk to the Host after the game.”

Nodding, you flash a small smile at him. “Thank you. And tell him I have one condition. If it happens, I want to play the game,” you say, your voice determined and unwavering.

Your statement gets a reaction out of him. Although the color of his skin isn’t visible thanks to the leather gloves he’s wearing, you can see the way his grip on the railing tightens upon hearing your request. Maybe it’s not a usual request, VIPs don’t want to participate, but you feel like this could be the key to your happiness. You want to die, but you don’t like the uncertainty. What if the method you choose in the end isn’t fail-safe? But here you would definitely die, and at least you would experience that thrill.

In the end, he only nods then walks away to see what the staff member wants to tell him. He will get back to you with the answer, you’re sure of that. Especially since you can feel his eyes on you right until you leave the room after the game, like he doesn’t approve of your plan. But it doesn’t matter. It’s all up to the old man now.

[luminarystarfall]

Heh…hey chat 🙂

I honestly forgot about this account ngl, so I’m sorry to those tagging me or asking me questions!

I’ve been more active on INSTAGRAM, YOUTUBE, and TIKTOK

Overall, for now, I’ve moved on from making Friday Night Funkin’ content. I don’t want to make any promises, but it’s nearly been a month since I’ve made anything related to FNF or Sunny. I’m having a lot more fun working on my original game concept PH0NY and occasionally doodling other things!

Drawing Sunny over and over again was exhausting and nerfed my abilities as an artist. I forgot that I can actually draw pretty decently outside of FNF tbh.

But, I am aware that majority of my followers followed me because of her. I’m unsure of what to do with her at the moment, but I don’t want her directly linked to Friday Night Funkin’ anymore. I also don’t want to be a part of the Friday Night Funkin’ fandom, it’s one of the most toxic spaces I’ve ever stepped into. So, I’m good on that lol.

Thank you for nearly 700 followers on here, btw! I apologize for my absence, I will do it again (/j)

[spotlightstudios]

Eyy!! Thanks for the tag!

Mine was smth that followed me over from my days on Amino. I was most active on the Animal Jam + MLP ones, and back then I was having a hard time coming up with a 'fun + unique' username. The 'Spotlight' bit was inspired by my fursona/oc at the time as well as the concept of getting to be the light shining on other people. (<- Cheesy af, haha!) But then when I got more active on Bendy and the Ink Machine Amino. Well. Added that 'studio' on for the aesthetic. Little did I know that was the beginning of the end, because I got super duper attached to the vibes and the energy it gave off, and so many people at that point knew me as Spot (shout-out to Utaus Amino) that it like... stayed. And it started using it as a YouTube handle, then my aunt got me a fun little light-up sign w/ the name and my email has it as the main portion and just... I actually managed to nickname myself and people rolled with it ig!

Then as I came to Tumblr I realized I wanted to stick with the full thing, but I think spotlightstudio was taken so I added an S! (I also wanted to avoid numbers and that was my solution lol-)

And as a bonus, all my alts like @spotinthespiral @spotaus @spotmoth etc all stole the 'spot' bit because spotlight sounded too cheesy to transfer and the 2nd half has a reference to whatever Fandom they're for! (W101/P101, Utmv, and Sky:Cotl respectively) I love a good Easter egg <3

Now for my tags.... No pressure to any of y'all! @neonsix67 @rainy-wallflower @dyson-the-vacuum @papiliovolens @rendoa-blog !! (Some of you have already told me your origin stories but, y'know, bonus lore for others if ya want lol!)

Tag game🎉

Tag your moots and ask them where they got the idea for their tumblr accounts name!

For my name it was a nickname I was giving back in middleschool! One of our teacher had a system where we worked with 'wifi' eachtime we talked in class we lost a bar of the "wifi" (was a weird joke and we never held count on that) All the kids usually joked if they needed 'wifi' , they would borrow mine if they wanted to talk more. (I was incredibly shy in middle school, I only talked to like 3 people at school;^;)

They called me Ms. Wifi because of that. I just thought it would be funny if I put 'miss' instead of 'ms' because of my terrible actual wifi connection I have at home lol.

That's my story! Now moots, only if you guys want to, tell us your story.

Tags-> @slipping-lately @firequeenofficial @noagskryf @twinklstarrrr @halfbakedspuds @polterwasteist @rokushi-san @mygedagtes +anyone that sees this and wants to do this as well

[slaytheday12]

walker asking you to the movies as a date but you don’t realize 🙂‍↕️

Movie Date?

You were sitting on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, when Walker’s name popped up in a text notification.

Walker: “Hey, you busy Friday night?”

You furrowed your brow, typing back. You: “Not really, why?”

His response was almost immediate. Walker: “Wanna catch a movie? There’s this new action movie I think you’d like.”

You grinned. Walker knew you had a soft spot for ridiculous car chases and over-the-top stunts. You: “Sure! Sounds fun. Who else is coming?”

The typing bubble appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again. Walker: “Uh… just us.”

Your thumbs hovered over the screen, your head tilting. You didn’t think much of it. After all, you and Walker had hung out one-on-one before. No big deal, right? You: “Cool, I’m in. What time?”

When Friday rolled around, you found Walker waiting for you outside the theater. He’d styled his hair a little neater than usual, and he even had a jacket on, despite the mild weather.

“Hey!” you greeted him with a grin.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a little softer than usual. “You look nice.”

You blinked, glancing down at your casual outfit. “Uh, thanks. You look good too. Did you lose a bet or something? You’re wearing real shoes.”

He laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “I just thought I’d… put in a little effort.”

That should have been your first clue, but you brushed it off, assuming he was just in a weird mood.

The movie was great the two of you whispered jokes back and forth the whole time. But halfway through, you noticed how close Walker’s arm was to yours on the shared armrest.

After the credits rolled, you both went outside greeted by the cool night air. “That was awesome!” you said, turning to him.

“Yeah, it was,” he replied, looking at you with this soft, nervous expression you hadn’t seen before.

You tilted your head. “What’s up? You okay?”

He rubbed the back of his neck again, his cheeks a little pink. “So… you know this wasn’t just, like, a regular hangout, right?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I… kinda meant it as a date.”

You froze for a second, your brain replaying every interaction from the past week. The texting. The outfit. The armrest proximity.

“Oh,” you said, the realization finally hitting.

Walker’s face turned red. “But if you didn’t see it that way, that’s totally fine! I—”

“No, no, it’s okay!” you blurted, cutting him off. “I just didn’t realize. I mean… I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t want to hang out with you, so…”

He stared at you, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “So… it’s a date?”

You grinned. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Walker’s smile widened, and suddenly, his earlier nervousness melted away. “Cool. So… same time next Friday?”

“Only if you wear the real shoes again,” you teased, bumping his shoulder.

“Deal,” he said, laughing. And this time, his laugh made your heart skip a beat.

A/N: one of my favs thx for the request.

Tags: @izzystylinson, @sophand4n4, @kaiwrites092, @shellsarepretty, @cheoriemoawa