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misc-obeyme · 2 days

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cc. your tags on the boudoir post. MAMMON recieving an album of those photos. i'd love to hear your thoughts on his reaction (and everyone else's, if you're feeling particularly inspired?)

Ah, Daisy, my dear, thank you for asking!

I apologize for this late response, but I knew I was gonna be getting wordy with this one. Because I looove the boudoir photos idea in general and OH MAN just thinking about all their reactions is making me crazy lol. I was going to just do my regular sort of response, but this turned into full on headcanons oops.

So just in case anyone missed it, here is the original post!

My thoughts change a little bit depending on whether MC is present when the characters receive the pictures, so I included both! I only did the bros but I might be willing to do the rest upon request!

the brothers react to MC giving them an album of boudoir photos

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: suggestive but that's about it, nothing explicit

Lucifer

When you're with him, Lucifer is calm and courteous, but with a flare of arrogance. Of course you would give him such a special gift. It's only natural that you would trust such intimacies to him.

He asks you if you're trying to tell him something. Has he perhaps been neglecting you, MC? Did you give him this so that he wouldn't be able to help himself? He's onto you.

No matter your reason, he can't look through too many of the pictures before wanting the real thing that's sitting right next to him. Tell him you still have some of that lingerie in your possession. Especially if you happen to have some in his colors.

If you aren't with him, he's going to be a lot less arrogant in general. He will find you later, make no mistake. But he's honestly so touched by your gift that he spends a lot of time looking through the album, simply admiring you.

Mammon

Mammon is freaking out no matter where you are the time. If you're with him, it's definitely a lot worse. Blushing profusely. Opens the album then slams it shut because he can't handle looking at it for very long.

You can't help but giggle at his reaction and then it's all stop laughin' at him MC!! You'll need to take his hands or maybe kiss his cheek, let him know that you genuinely just wanted to give him a nice gift, you aren't trying to tease him or anything.

Ask him if he likes it. You'll get a serious response. Calms down enough to say 'course he likes it. Likes it so much, he suddenly can't keep his hands off you.

If you aren't with him at the time, he buries it under his pillow or otherwise hides it because this is now one of his treasures and nobody gets to see it but him!

Leviathan

Levi is another one who'd be a blushing mess no matter what, but if you're there at the time, he might retreat to his room and not let you in. He needs that barrier between you because if he sees you right now, his heart will explode.

He'll let you back in eventually, but it might be a minute. He needs to calm down. Are you trying to kill him, MC?! Even when he does let you in, he can't look at you directly. He's probably covering his face with his hands.

Reassure him that you gave these photos to him because you trust him with them. They're personal, intimate, and you want him to be close to you. He's going to calm down the more you talk to him. Pull his hands away from his face and when he sees the sincerity in your eyes, it flips a switch. Might even slip into demon form just to wrap his tail around you possessively.

If you're not with him at the time, he's going to need to take care of that raging boner of his right away. He won't be able to focus on anything else until he does. He's so embarrassed, he has to watch several episodes of Ruri Hana to recalibrate.

Satan

He will try to keep his expression unreadable. He's not having any over the top reactions, but as he flips through the photos, he keeps getting redder and redder. You're sitting right next to him, how can he not react? At some point, he has to close the album because he feels like he's looking at something he shouldn't.

Satan is quiet about how flustered he is, but he's having a hard time looking at you. He tries to say something and incomprehensible lines about how beautiful you are fall from his lips. He sounds like a broken record of spoken word poetry or perhaps a very drunk beat poet.

Recovers himself after a minute. As soon as he's composed, you're in his arms. You knew what this would do to him, didn't you, MC? You'll find yourself pressed up against the nearest wall in moments.

If you're not with him, Satan will tuck your album into a stack of his other books. He thinks it's well hidden there - in plain sight. But he's hyper aware of it. Keeps coming back to look at it. Ends up having to put it on the bottom of a stack behind a different stack to make it more difficult to get to.

Asmodeus

Thrilled. Absolutely thrilled in every way. Oh, wow, MC, you look amazing. He's breathless. He's entranced. He's even blushing because he knows what it means that you've given these to him. He's so in love with you, he can't stand it.

Asks you about everything you may be wearing. Comments on the skill of the photographer. Tells you that next time, you should do one together. He has so many ideas. He wants to do one where all you're wearing is jewelry - bright and sparkling, just like your soul.

Covers you in kisses. He's not shy about how this is making him feel, how much he wants you. He just wants to see your beautiful figure here and now in real life, MC! Won't you let him worship you?

If you're not with him, he will find you immediately so he can say all of the things he needs to say in that moment. You can't leave him alone with all these feelings, both physical and emotional. He brings them all to you without hesitating.

Beelzebub

It might take him a minute to understand exactly what he's looking at, mostly because he's never even heard of this. He doesn't know what a boudoir photo shoot is, so you might have to explain it to him. Once he understands, he starts lightly blushing as he looks through them. His expression is serious because he's beginning to see just how special this is.

Honestly surprised that you would give him something so intimate. He's touched. He's going to hug it to himself and look at you with tears in his eyes because he can't believe how lucky he is.

Give him another couple minutes to look through them and then he's having different feelings. He's not sure if he can hold back, MC. Tell him it's okay, that you don't want him to, and you'll find yourself on your back on his bed in zero seconds flat. You're quickly reminded why he's the Avatar of Gluttony.

If you're not with him at the time, he will figure things out on his own, though he'll have a plethora of questions for you later. He keeps it close to him at all times until you answer them because he knows one thing for sure - he doesn't want anyone else seeing these.

Belphegor

Oh, he sees what you're playing at. Trying to fluster him, are you, MC? Trying to rile him up? Are you sure you can handle him when you do that? He's so wound up by the gift he can't act normal about it. He's actually very touched by it, but he's not sure how to deal with the feelings, so he comes on too strong.

You laugh because to you, this is expected. You understand that this is Belphie's way of dealing with his own shyness. You respond by meeting him with just as much intensity. It's all kisses and touching and fumbling in the dark.

It's only later, when both of you are calm, when you're nestled in his arms, that he admits to you how much it means to him. That he tells you how he'll cherish the album you gave him. That he says he's stunned by how gorgeous you are, even more brilliant that the stars in the sky.

If you aren't with him at the time, you'll be dealing with a petulant but horny demon later on. He's going to be annoyed at you for leaving it for him and then not being there when it inevitably turns him on. Just as possessive as his brothers, he hides it in the attic where no one is likely to find it.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

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whytheylosttheirminds · 4 hours

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I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally.

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was.

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :)

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here.

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission.

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could.

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill.

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously.

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window.

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt.

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter.

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

to be continued

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

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thelittlelegends · 2 days

Text

THE LITTLE LEGENDS

This is a blog for sharing and spreading love for the smaller Zelda games in the fandom!

For everyone crying over Spirit Tracks being forgotten, to people who wish someone else remembered the struggle to find a fourth player for Four Swords or sobbing at the end of online co-op for Tri Force Heroes – this is a home to join others in that love. Mainline and third-party Zelda games are all included!

The criteria for which Zelda games count as “small” is hard to quantify. To make things easier, we went by the numbers posted to Archive of Our Own, which has the option to disambiguate which game you’re writing for and is the current best-known fanfiction site. From there, we removed some things to try and narrow it down to core game fics and picked everything that was under 1000 works.

The resulting list of Zelda games is as follows:

CDI games = 14

Zelda cartoon = 29

Cadence of Hyrule = 50

Tri Force Heroes = 51

Oracle of Seasons = 76

Oracle of Ages = 85

Zelda II: Adventure of Link = 93

Zelda (1986) = 180

Spirit Tracks = 183

Phantom Hourglass = 191

Link’s Awakening = 256

Link to the Past = 260

Minish Cap = 290

Four Swords = 359

Four Swords Adventures = 423

A Link Between Worlds = 587

Wind Waker = 739

Some of this will be a case of poor tagging, and things winding up in the wrong place. (eg. Four Swords has 1200 entries, but upon removing all Four Swords Adventures or Manga story tags it reduces to 359.) Others may not be here at all because nobody has posted it under it’s own name vs a related game or “& Related Fandoms.”

While this means these numbers are not absolute, they still represent the problem: it’s hard to find content for your favourite games if it's in the list above, and we want to fix that!

WHAT DOES THAT ENTAIL?

The event we’re planning is very chill, very low-stakes way of building up interest and knowledge, and then collecting and sharing fanworks produced.

The event month will be AUGUST, 2024.

Every few days in August we’ll make a post for each game on the list (and any bonus games that were highlighted alongside the main ones), which people can reblog with a link to the fanwork they created! You can also make your own posts and tag the blog plus the game of the day but we cannot promise to see and reblog everything.

In the lead-up to August, we will be doing round-up posts for each of the above games.

Some will be doubled up and treated as “bonuses” due to their small pool of fans (CDI, the Cartoon), and if there are some we don’t know about we may take them on as suggestions!

Each of these initial game posts will include basic stats about the game: when they were released, on what hardware, where you can find them now, and what their story was. It will also include links to a walkthrough or two, for those without access to the necessary hardware.

The purpose of these posts is to be shared!

Reblog them with your favourite artwork, current fanworks you love and adore, your favourite AU they’re featured in! Share the lore you wish everyone knew, and the characters who get forgotten!

Share prompts you’ve never gotten around to using, or ones you don’t feel competent to handle!

Do not feel bad about doing this! Every exchange or event I’ve been in, people desperately wanted prompts and ideas to spark their own imagination!

The goal is for people to learn more about games that they may have never heard of before, or not had the time or ability to engage with in full on their own. And from there we can push up those numbers on AO3 for everyone to enjoy!

The scheduled games to be “main” features of this event, and their respective introductory dates, are as follows:

May 5th = Minish Cap

May 12th = Zelda II: AoL

May 19th = Oracle of Ages / Oracle of Seasons

May 26th = Cadence of Hyrule

June 2nd = Phantom Hourglass

June 9th = Four Swords Adventures / Four Swords [Game]

June 16th = Link’s Awakening

June 23rd = Zelda (1986)

June 30th = Link to the Past

July 7th = Tri Force Heroes

July 14th = Spirit Tracks

July 21st = Link Between Worlds

July 28th = Wind Waker

Exact dates for the posting schedule of new fanworks in August will be released soon!

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duckprintspress · 7 hours

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May Trope Mayhem is a multi-fandom/original creation event open to writers, artists, and creators of all kinds! We’ve put together a list of 30 of our favorite tropes (plus one free day!), one per day through the month of May, and we encourage creators to join us for this month of fun tropey mayhem.

Our goal is to promote motivation and help with habit building, so we’re encouraging authors to keep their ficlets under 1,000 words, artists to stick to making just a sketch, gif makers to only do a single image, etc., as applicable to whatever you’re making.

This event is primarily held on Tumblr, but you’re welcome to participate anywhere Duck Prints Press has an account (you can see all our current platforms here) and we’ll keep our eyes on our tag everywhere!

How can you participate? It’s easy! There’s just a few simple rules:

write a ficlet or a poem, create art, make a gif, or create any other content that you want, aligned with the prompt for the day!

post your correctly tagged fills to Tumblr, and we’ll reblog them! We’ll reskeet works on Bluesky, retoot those on Mastodon, you get the idea. Note: we do not use Twitter.

you must tag warnings such as gore, MCD, sexual content, etc., so that people can make informed decisions!

please also tag fandom and ship, so people can find what interests them!

we ask that you put the tags at the top of your post, so they’re easy to find.

if you write more than 1k words and post the whole text on Tumblr or wherever, please use a read more if the platform allows.

if you create something with NSFW content or potentially triggering material, please put the entire work under a read more.

Ping us (duckprintspress) or tag your creations “#may trope mayhem” and so we can find them! We’ll reblog all fills that follow the above rules and are posted between May 1st and June 8th, 2024.

If you post to AO3, you can also add them to our collection there!

You don’t have to sign up for May Trope Mayhem, just post your fills. You don’t have to be a member of the Press nor do you have to be following us. You don’t have to be part of a specific fandom. We’re open to all ships, genres, formats, etc.! You don’t have to post fills on the corresponding day, though we ask that if you’re creating for a day that hasn’t happened yet, please wait for that day to post.

Participating in May Trope Mayhem? Want to chat fandom, books, creation, and more? Join our Book Lover’s Discord Server!

This is a low-pressure event, held in good fun, and we look forward to seeing what you create!

(read more: the full list of prompts written out! with links or definitions to any prompts we thought might be confusing!)

MAY TROPE MAYHEM Prompt List!

Secret Relationship

Mistaken Identity

Accidental Ownership (Character A accidentally ends up the owner of Character B)

Space Western Setting

Marriage Before Love

Time Loop

Wound Tending

"This is our get-along shirt."

Reincarnation

Mutual Pining

Forced Proximity

Sentinel/Guide

Vampires

Outsider Point of View

Monster F*ing (censored in the image)

Foodservice Setting

Meet Cute

"Keep your dog on a leash."

Mecha

The Soulmate Goose of Enforcement

Steampunk

Love Requited Too Late

Bottom Storage (or however you feel like interpreting it!)

Werewolf/Shifter Character

Fake Relationship

Reciprocal Idiots (like idiots to lovers, or however else you feel like interpreting it!)

There Was Only One Bed

OMG They Were Roommates

Soul-Bonding

Homoerotic Swordfighting

Free day!

#duck prints press #may trope mayhem #LET'S DO THIS!#are you hype because i am hype

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alt-zadr-b1tch3z · 8 hours

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ALT-ZADR-WEEK 2024

This event is inspired by the vintage culture of Invader Zim (1990s/2000s) and largely relates to fashion and media trends of that time. This year pays homage to that via the magic of alternate universes and the creativity of the fandom when exploring them. RULES: Must be 18+ to enter Both written and drawn submissions may apply To submit applications, post to tumblr and tag your submission as @alt-zadr-b1tch3z Do not harass the Artists/Writers It is the preference of the blog creator that you depict Zim and Dib as Adult versions of the original characters. However, underage iterations of Zim and Dib will be posted if the artwork meets the criteria of Disney shipping (cheek kisses, holding hands, exchanging gifts, hugging, Not Being Sexual) No depictions of Racism, Sexism, Pedophilia, Homophobia, Transphobia; or anything else I think is deplorable will be reblogged. I personally will block you if you’re being disgusting or a bigot.

Trigger warnings MAY include: Blood, Eyestrain, Drugs, Needles, Cutting, Gore, Suicide Mention, Murder, Violence, Infanticide, Patricide, Negative Depictions of Hospitals, Gay Cartoon Characters, Guns, Weapons, Vomit, and much more! Feel free to send asks about specific things you want tagged. Disclaimer: This blog does not condone any unlawful or harmful acts depicted in the events submissions. I will do my best to tag content for trigger warnings but may screw up, I’m just one dude. Negative mental health symptoms such as suicidal ideation, violent tendencies, long lasting depression, and many unmentioned others; are all things that deserve to be depicted in art and shared within an understanding and mature community. Sharing your experience with other like minded people is an important part of the coping process, and makes us feel less alone when we face the dark feelings within ourselves. It’s ok to fuck up and do the things you’re not supposed to, no one is perfect. You deserve to get the most out of life that you can. Healing is a slow process and it’s ok to acknowledge your bad feelings through art. If you are experiencing mental health problems, please seek out a professional avenue for help, or find some kind of healthy coping mechanism. You will thank yourself when you look back on it. Thank you, for reading my preachy little blurb about why leaking brain badness is good sometimes. Please enjoy the showcase <3

IDEAS FOR SUBMISSIONS: The categories and subcategories are loose and unstrict, do what you want to with the prompts given, and have fun with it!

Word prompts: Scene Word Generator Fashion Prompts: Emo fashion board Scene fashion boards ART INSPO

#invader zim #zadr #zim x dib #zadr art #alt-zadr-official

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extravagav · 2 days

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Yk I never did truly recover from the sick fic chapter

#one day im gonna make a post overanalyzing every single frame from this chapter bc its just so good #everything from how confused sakura looks at the idea of them coming to visit him when hes sick #to suo suggesting they leave bc he knows them staying here the now will only make him worse/uncomfortable which is the last thing he needs #bc yeah although he shouldn't and doesnt have to hes used to dealing w/ things like this alone #hes convinced he needs to and thats not smth you can just expect to change from one visit #still i need my hurt/comfort sick fic sequel please and thank you #so we can get a full circle of sakuras character development where he actually lets them help/asks for it #and NO im NOT projecting 🙅‍♀️#i DONT just wanna see my son getting comforted through his sickness when hes at his most vulnerable nuh uh 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️#wind breaker #wind breaker spoilers #sakura haruka #ALSO ALL THIS ^^ WITHOUT EVEN MENTIONING THE REASON HES SICK IN THE FIRST PLACE LIKE????#MY SON WAS SO EMOTIONALY CONFLICTED AND CONFUSED THAT HE GAVE HIMSELF A FEVER 😭😭😭😭#ALSO also i seriously cannot get iver how scared he looks in the last panel like ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️#ok im going off in these tags rn i need to stop fr

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calaisreno · 3 days

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May Prompts 2024

Dear Writers:

It's nearly May! The month of merry little thoughts, divine mistakes, and frivolous whims.

Time to set aside that fantasy trilogy that's been stuck in the mud all winter, the six-act tragedy in blank verse you've been labouring over--and write some random bits and bobs!

Visit your mind attic. Pull open the drawer where you hide your terrible ideas and scenes that are waiting for the right story. (I know you have such an attic and such a drawer because I do as well 🙄) Dig around— not with the idea of spring cleaning, which will only produce an empty drawer and a tidy attic— but because it's a treasure hunt.

Dust off the lawn furniture, put on your sandals, take your laptop outdoors. New environs, new inspirations.

The point is this: Last year* some of us wrote and shared a month of little daily fictions. There were drabbles and 221Bs and flash-fiction and mini-epics. There were prompts, which some of us used as a starting place, and sharing of minifics amongst ourselves, which led to more inspiration.

Wanna see some more?

I've been hoarding ideas since last year and am now opening that drawer. I plan to write a short something every day in May, and will share my words with whoever wants to be tagged. If you'd like a daily prompt, I will be supplying that.

No pressure. While some structure creates opportunity and creativity thrives within structure, this exercise is not meant to create anxiety or trigger your inner completionist. (My internal taskmaster is taking the month off.)

No judgement. No prizes for reaching 31, no awards for creativity, no certificates of participation. Just cheering one another on.

No rules. Use the prompt or don't. Write 100 words or 1000. Any fandom, any characters, any headcanon. Or your own original creation. Write every day or whenever an idea strikes. Share or don't.

No guilt. Fail gleefully, write terribly, get out of the boat and swim.

Correction. One rule: write some words.

*Credit goes to @notjustamumj for last year's inspiration. Eternal thanks for that idea!

Please reblog! I'm tagging a few people who participated last year or expressed interest, but I’m sure I’m leaving someone out. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for prompts and sharing.

@raina_at @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @allsovacant @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jrow @elwinglyre @bertytravelsfar @helloliriels @gregorovitchworld @peanitbear @mydogwatson

#MayPrompts2024

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bby-deerling · 9 hours

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7 of coins + the tower (marco x reader nsfw)

and now for something completely different...

this is one of my tarot prompt drabbles that @kazieai was gracious enough to allow me to share with you all <3 thank you!!, i love ya! these are always super fun because i get the opportunity to step out of my comfort zone and write for new characters :)

masterlist || commissions

cw: friends to lovers, afab!fem!reader, cowgirl position

tagging: @fanaticsnail @indydonuts

Content with your simple life and the sprawling greens of Sphinx, you had never envisioned yourself getting entangled with a pirate; as far as you were concerned, Whitebeard was the only one with some sort of tangible moral fabric seeing as he had turned your village in a hidden paradise with his financial support, a far cry from the lawless wasteland your parents had described growing up in. The cloistered state of your village meant that meeting outsiders, let alone pirates, with good intentions happened few and far between—that is, until the new doctor rolled into town.

It should be noted that he didn’t technically roll, he flew, with blue and yellow streaking flames across the sky that had you rubbing your eyes, convinced you were either hallucinating or developing a migraine. Following the trail of colors left nothing but a man in its wake; it was Marco—that much you were certain of when you saw the fluffy mess of hair at the top of his head—but his presence only causes you to swivel your head around, concerned that a gaggle of boisterous pirates were about to follow not far behind. Whitebeard’s funeral had been a solemn affair, but afterwards, Red-Haired Shanks and his crew had drank the entire village dry and kept every inhabitant up far past their bedtime, and their idea of “fun” was quite frankly too much for you to handle.

But thankfully, Marco had come alone this time, setting up a small doctor’s office within his new home, and quickly ingraining himself in the community; so calm and carefree, you nearly forget he’s a retired pirate at all, until the occasional group of bandits attack the village from behind the waterfall, and the phoenix takes care of the issue in mere minutes before smiling to himself and returning his attention to patching up the minor scrapes and bruises of the village kids. Though you had long ago resigned yourself to becoming the village spinster, you couldn’t help yourself from letting a bud of blooming affection sprout as you watch him tend to any issues that crop up around town, including things as trivial as helping you weed your garden or cleaning out your gutters. In fact, you quite enjoyed having someone to talk to who possessed both intelligence and humility in spades, that you end up finding yourself seeking him out for tasks that don’t really require his assistance simply so that you can spend time with him—and that’s all well and good, until one day, he calls you out on it.

“You can just invite me over without the silly pretense, you know.” he says with a smug grin one sunny afternoon after you asked him to come look at a creaky floorboard in your kitchen; to his credit, it was a flimsy excuse, but the wood does let out a squeak as his feet cross through the room on the way to your living room. Tray of tea in hand, you place the refreshments on your coffee table as you sit nearby in your favorite armchair, close enough for your knee to occasionally brush against his, making idle conversation with him as you sip on the piping hot liquid. The topics stay centered around the present, the current happenings of the village; though he sometimes told a story or two, you rarely asked him about his past, and perhaps he liked that your friendship centered around this new phase in his life. Mind wandering as he talks, the laid-back, soothing tone of his voice admittedly going straight to your core, leaving you with a flushed face. Zoning out, you don’t even realize how flustered you look until he snaps his fingers in front of your face.

“You’re spacing out today, yoi.” he says lowly, carefully worming your teacup out of your hands and placing it onto the table. He’s beyond amused as he watches the way your face fails to hide the feelings you’ve been trying to hard to swallow down; your little crush has been quite clear for some time, but he was intent on worming a confession out of you himself. “Any reason why?” he probes, leaning forward with a smug smile spread across his face.

Unsure if he was messing with you or not, you avert your gaze away from him and let out a deep sigh. “Marco, if you’re gonna reject me, just tell me now and quit teasing me.” you mumble out, cheeks heated as you steal a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eyes.

“Now that’d just be mean.” he says with a small chuckle as he cups your face, gently urging you to look at him before he presses his lips to yours, admittedly with more passion than you were expecting. The way his hands trail along your torso is steeped in heaps of experience that you lack, with precision and confidence that has you melting under his touch.

“Such a pretty little thing, yoi.” he muses as he pulls you into his lap, keeping a firm grip on your waist as he rolls his hips into yours. The intoxicating pull in the air makes you lose all dignity and composure, not thinking twice about how things might look to anyone nosy enough to peek thorugh your window when he reaches under your sundress and pulls your panties to the side. Circling the tip of his cock around your entrance teasingly, you bite on his lip as you sink down onto his length, knees buried into the plush fabric of your couch as you rock your hips against his. His firm hold on you makes every twitch of your body more intense; you can’t remember the last time you’ve had sex, let alone good sex, but the way Marco turns you into a feverish mess so easily leaves you spellbound, even more under his thumb than you already were.

“Let go for me.” he murmurs in your ear; with your clit grinding against him with each guided snap of your hips, you’re unbearably close. The vibrations from his words couple with the handful of your thigh that he grips possessively send you over the edge, unraveling you into a spit up, tangled ball of string as your walls flutter around him. Ears pounding and head light, your eyes are bleary and blurry as you come to your senses; he’s whispering sweet praises to you, but as the look in his eyes comes into focus, another wave of heat floods your core.

He's not done with you—not even close.

#one piece x reader #marco x reader #marco the phoenix #x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece drabble #one piece smut

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18thcenturythirsttrap · 2 days

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how could one make the ideal football team using only frev figures?

Thank you so much for this ask, @citizen-card! I'm sorry it has taken me a little while to answer. Your question was sent to me during the anti-truth hour but tbh, creating a football team of FRev figures has been on my agenda for some time.

I present… MONTAGNE F.C.

Montagne F.C., est. 1793, are an exciting team with an attacking ethos but also strong in defence (of the patrie). They tend to play in the popular modern 4-3-3 formation, which morphs into a 4-3-2-1 in the final stages of attack with Fabre as the lone striker up front.

Goalkeeper: Hérault de Séchelles. Team heart-throb. At over 6' tall, has the reach to make saves across the width and height of the net. Tends to leave the field as soon as the final whistle has blown so that he has time to sign hundreds of portraits before heading off to some highly exclusive nightclub. Fabre always tries to tag along.

Left Fullback: Saint-Just. The youngest team member, just as well given the amount of running he has to do on the overlap. Wishes Robespierre would allow him to trust his own instincts more rather than constantly shouting, “Forward, forward – no, come back! Come back!” Has a good understanding with his right fullback counterpart Le Bas. Desmoulins lives rent-free in his head.

Centre Back: Desmoulins. Only plays here because he thinks he can leave most of the defensive work to Danton, which is interesting because Danton thinks he can leave most of the work to Desmoulins. Writes the official fan newsletter, gets annoyed that Robespierre keeps sending back articles covered in red ink. Sings “You’re shit, and you know you are” at Saint-Just, then pretends it was someone in the crowd. Robespierre often has to separate them in the tunnel at half-time.

Centre Back: Danton. Undoubted talent, but lazy a.f. Stands by one of the goalposts chatting with Hérault, only springing into action if there’s an imminent danger of the opponents scoring a goal. When he does decide to put in a tackle, he goes in studs up. Loudest voice on the pitch, constantly shouting at the lads up front to show more audacity in counterattack.

Right Fullback: Le Bas. Lovely clean player, never booked, never carded. Not flashy, but he runs his heart out for the team every game. Sometimes wishes he’d get as much attention in match reports as Saint-Just, but then pushes the idea out of his head and keeps smiling through. His Instagram account is basically pictures of his wife, their baby, and Saint-Just.

Left Midfielder: Marat. Pushing 50 and still an absolute demon on the attack. Nips around defenders easily, puts this down to his low centre of gravity. Runs an edgy underground fanzine. Team physio and doctor, takes a no-nonsense approach to injuries, believes everything can be cured by sponging off with cold water and vinegar. Gives Fabre a kick when he dives, claiming “it’ll do him good”.

Central Midfielder: Billaud-Varenne. Always turns up for training and matches with Collot d’Herbois. In rondos, has to be reminded to pass the ball to someone else once in a while. Does allegedly unscripted fun fan-meet videos with Collot.

Right Midfielder: Collot d’Herbois. Devises the scripts for the fun fan-meet videos he films with Billaud. Threatened to shoot a fan who tried to improvise. The archetypal loose cannon, as much of a menace to his team-mates as to the opposition. Once tried to throw Robespierre over an advertising hoarding for windows.

Left Winger: Maximilien Robespierre. Self-appointed player-manager. Did all his coaching certificates, attended at least one course twice “to make sure I’ve taken it all in”. Obsessive in preparation for matches, likes to have a week analysing the opposition before he presents his tactics to the team. Doesn’t like overly physical play, says 99% of the game is won by character. Often booked for arguing with the referee for so long, it gets dark. Cult icon with the female fans, nobody – least of all him – is quite sure why.

Right Winger: Augustin 'Bonbon' Robespierre. His brother’s biggest fan and cheerleader, but a gifted player in his own right. More physically courageous in attack than Maximilien, also has something of a reputation as a talent-spotter. Reckons he saw a player who might be “the next big thing” down in Toulon.

Striker: Fabre d’Églantine. Fancies himself as much as he wishes everyone else fancied him. Posts daily (but suspiciously short) topless workout videos on his Instagram. Hérault always puts three laugh emojis in the comments. Feigns injury to try and win penalties, a nightmare for Robespierre who’s convinced he’ll be red carded for fakery one of these days. Dives, rolls and wails shamelessly. Should spend longer in the shower after matches.

----

At some point I might get round to drawing the team, team kit and badge, etc... But yep, that's my FRev starting 11!

#montagne f.c.#french revolution football au #frev #frev shitposting #french revolution #football

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alitherandom · 23 hours

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Bad Batch is almost over so I'm going to ramble. If anyone can relate, please reply or reblog. Share what this show has meant to you, share your thoughts, share theories, tag people. Let's give it a send off.

Star Wars has been a massive part of my life for years.

I loved everything about the Clone Wars, the world building, the character development for the jedi, but most of all the clones. As someone who finds it hard to read faces, it was fun getting to know each of the clones as individuals with their own personalities and I actually never had any issues telling them apart. It hits hard, I think that's what makes their stories even more tragic.

Echo and Fives are my favourite Star Wars characters so I was really happy when Echo came back in Clone Wars season 7. That was why I decided to watch the Bad Batch- it then became my favourite series.

I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do when this show ends. I think the hardest part is not knowing what the galaxy has in store for the batch and where it could go from here. Whatever happens I’ll always be grateful for the experiences I've had as part of this community over the last few years.

I think that's what's great about being part of a fandom. Seeing all the different ideas and projects that get put out there every day as well as knowing everyone else is in just as much suspense as I am. I haven't interacted on here that much until the last few months, but I check the tags a lot and all the fanart has been immaculate. The writers and artists are crazy talented and work so hard, I admire the level of dedication and aspire to be like that. 😂

I'm also really grateful for the three seasons we got with Clone Force 99.

Seeing Echo go from a shiny in the Clone Wars to becoming who he is now. (I could talk about that for ages, but I'll save that for another post.)

Seeing Crosshair regain his trust in the batch and get to change.

Seeing Hunter step up for his brothers and Omega.

Seeing more sides to Wrecker's strength.

Seeing Omega go from that kid who'd never seen dirt before to learning from her brothers and proving how brave she is.

And lastly, seeing Tech make the choice he did back in season 2. It wasn't easy to watch, because he deserved more time and there was definitely a massive hole in season 3 without him.

I'm not ready to say goodbye to any of them.

My favourite episodes in season 1 were the last few, when Kamino fell. It was the end of an era as well as a new beginning.

My favourite episode in season 2 was episode 8. I was really proud of Echo, plus he got a hug from Omega which I have admittedly rewatched far too many times.

My favourite episodes in season 3 were episodes 13 and 14. The stakes have been so high and it's been great seeing Echo's ARC skills in action again. (Plus the dialogue with Rampart was top tier. Hate that guy, but it was hilarious.)

I'm well aware of all the theories for the finale. I'm choosing to ignore most of them, but I’d like to present my own.

I hope Echo gets to finish what Fives started and the clones can finally be free, including Tech if he's CX2. I hope the batch gets to burn Tantiss to the ground and fly off into the sunset with Omega and the kids from the vault, and then I hope they continue a lifetime of bullying Rampart. I also hope Emerie gets to whack Hemlock with a steel chair, and then the Zillo beast can eat him.

…After all, Star Wars is based on hope, right?

If anyone actually ended up reading this to the end you're a real one- have a great final Bad Batch eve, and may the force be with you.

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yeetus-feetus · 11 hours

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Duke is a much smaller Duke one day, he's lost all his memories beyond the young age he is now and he's scared and confused.

He doesn't know where is. But then there's Tim, his Robin! And suddenly everything is ok.

The bats have no idea what's going on, but Duke refuses to go to anyone but Tim. He's also a little ball of energy bouncing off all the walls, and Tim is SO tired. "Robin- Tim, come play tag with me!"

One night Tim ends up passing out at his desk, a sleeping Duke cuddling into him on his lap.

Except when Duke wakes up Tim is small too.

And he doesn't remember who Duke is!!

So Duke reintroduces himself and Tim let's himself be dragged downstairs to the actually Batcave!

Bruce is looking at them in absolute astonishment, they're so small!!

Damian laughs at Tim's smallness and Tim gives a cold glare. Maybe age can't change some things.

"where are Nightwing and the new Robin?" Tim asks.

"I'm Robin."

"no, I meant Jason!" Tim huffs and crosses his arms. Ah, he's so young he still believes Jay is Robin.

Duke is still clinging to him, but Tim can't bring himself to mind all too much.

Bruce doesn't know how to handle these boys, between a hyperactive Duke and an absolute menace Tim.

Dick tries to help, but even he can't keep up with the mischief and shenanigans they get up to together.

"dick pick us up!"

"yeah! Pick us up pick us up! And swing us around until we get dizzy!"

"again!"

It's time to bring out the big guns, and by that they mean calling Jason over to the manor.

Tim settles immediately, but Duke remains overly weary around the large man with guns strapped to his thighs. He's kinda scary.

But Tim likes Jason well enough. At some point he ends up cuddled up with Jason who's stretched out on the couch, and Duke is just a little bit jealous.

"hey stop hogging him! Tim is mine," Duke pouts.

Jason raises an eyebrow at the boy, and Tim tilts his head. "You know there's enough room for both of us up here, right? Jason is a lot bigger than he used to be."

Duke considers this. "Mm okay, but only because you're up there". And he climbs up into Jason's lap to cuddle into Tim's side.

It's calm for a moment, until Duke starts to fidget, not able to stay still for too long. Jason let's put an annoyed noise and looks at them over the top of his book. "Would you quit it I'm tryna read here".

"what are you reading?" Duke asks.

"Macbeth."

Tim scrunched his nose up. "Why are you reading that?"

"I like it. Reminds me of school", and Tim catches something in his tone that Duke absolutely doesn't.

"it sounds silly. Will you red it to us?"

Jason looks at the both of them for a very long moment before signing. "Sure, but you've gotta stay still, your knees are already in my ribs."

The three of them all end up falling asleep like that, tucked into the lounge and curled up together.

Except when they wake up in the morning, Jason is scrawny little boy, even smaller than Tim and Duke.

Tim explains what he can to the tiny Jason as Duke sneaks some snacks from the kitchen cupboard for them.

Cass catches them stuffing their faces with junk food and squeals. "Three baby brother's now!" And scoops them all up as the quick and try to squirm away.

"gotta tell B"

"wait who are you exactly?" Jason asks.

"big sister", Cass smiles and pets his curls.

"no way! Really? That's so cool, I've never had a big sister before", he exclaims.

Cass carries all three of them down to the Batcave because she's so strong and awesome! And Jason can't believe he ends up with such a cool sister.

"Batman!!!" Jason shouts in pure excitement, and Bruce turns around and almost cries.

Because look how small!! Oh baby Jay lad!! So precious and smol!

"I think the de-aging syndrome may be contagious", Tim speaks up. "You should have us all properly quarantined until you can find a cure."

quarantine is fun, for Jason and Tim at least (tiny Tim is plotting revenge on whoever caused this, Jason is reading and occasionally shouting at the characters). Duke can't stand having to stay still in the same one room for so long.

idk where this is going, but consider this awesome 3am idea of mine

#duke thomas #tim drake #jason todd #de aging #deaged au #de aged duke #de aged tim #de aged jason

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the-kr8tor · 11 hours

Note

KATY THINK OF THIS (IM THAT ONE ANON THAT SAID ABOUT RUNAWAY PRINCESS X PIRATE HOBIE AND I WANNA ADD TO IT)

what if she’s running because she’s getting married to this shitty aristocracy that her family arranged and she running away from that and ends up meeting ways with a pirate. Hobie probably doesn’t know she’s this princess and falls in love but news breaks out as always she gets found and forced to marry that aristocracy and Hobie’s basically gets betrayed. (Live laugh love)

Btw other anon can use this idea or make their own version

Aahhhhh anon I'm so sorry but this took on a life of its own 😭😭😭 but I ended it open ended just in case someone requests something in this au!! So sorry that this pivoted from the prompt, ly thank you for requesting ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x Princess! reader

Word count: 2.3k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW blood, CW violence.

A/N: If you want more princess! Reader x Pirate! Hobie, @pinksugarscrub has a few fics with them!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Marriage, it's supposed to be a happy occasion. One where it's supposed to be filled with laughter and dancing with your family and your new family. Looking forward to your new life with the love of your life. Not whatever the hell your father arranged for you.

As you hide from your handmaiden below deck together with your dowry which is basically a barn full of chickens and cows, their noises hide your frustrated groans from trying to rip your gown from your body. You've had enough of the silky fabric and its luscious lace, you've hatched a plan, a plan to escape from the loveless marriage that will fall on you once you step out of your father's ship. You were not dubbed ‘the realm's problem princess’ for nothing.

Whilst your sisters were called ‘the realm's delight’ or ‘the realm's most beautiful’, but, as the seventh daughter out of twelve siblings, you were not granted a title befitting of you. Even though you're not the heir or even the spare, you were given something much more priceless than a piece of land or castle, no, you were given freedom. Freedom to whisk away every night to mingle with the common folk, freedom to run around the castle without getting reprimanded by your royal parents. Why would they even blink an eye at your so-called debauchery when you're the seventh and not the eldest or even the youngest?

But that sense of freedom that they have given you has now backfired on them. You absolutely refused to marry a stranger from another country, and for political gain nonetheless. You fought everyone to not be sent away from your home. You kicked knights in their steel clad groins, you punched footmen right under their chins. The last straw apparently was when you tried to stow away on a merchant ship whilst you were disguised as a common boy, to which your father and his adviser did not appreciate.

“it’s for the good of the realm,” they said, “I secured an advantageous marriage for you” they said. Well they can shove that marriage contract up where the sun doesn't shine. If your father's adviser was so keen on marrying the strange royal then he should just marry him instead.

You grumble obscenities under your breath, a chicken tilts its head at your frustrations. The fabric of the skirt finally rips away from your hips, leaving you in only your petticoat and corset. A locket tumbles off from the sewn pocket inside the skirt. You almost forgot about the damn thing in your haste to get away.

Grabbing the golden locket, you don't even sneak one last peek at the painting inside, a painting that depicts your so-called fiancé. He's not ugly per se, but he seems…boring. Too boring for you at least. All his correspondence to you were lackluster, his poems lacking heart and character. You surmise that it was written by someone else ever since you've heard rumours of his illiteracy.

You huff, throwing it on the pile of fabric. A cow moos next to you, and you spare her a glare.

“This is for the best, Belinda.” You've named her after your handmaiden. Belinda has been your only friend since your journey. “I don't want to get married off to some strange man, to live in a strange land. And to never see my siblings, not even during the holidays!” You put on trousers that you've stolen from one of the sailors accompanying you. “I'd rather risk it out in the sea than be a wife.” Miraculously, the trousers fit perfectly. “Finally, something right goes my way today. Let's hope this luck continues.”

As you say those words, the ship lunges harshly to the side, knocking you off your feet then flinging you against the hardwood. Vision swirling, the poor animals cry out in their cages, you think they're crying out based on their frantics faces since your ears seem to only hear that high pitched ringing sound.

Dust falls on you like snowflakes, looking above, the dust comes from the deck. Before you could stand up, the ship lunges once again. You slide on the floor, together with the crates and cages.

Your vision finally clears moments before Belinda's cage smashes into you. Frantically, you crawl aside, the metal cage missing your foot by only a few inches.

“Are you hurt?!” You ask the cow as if she can talk back. Belinda moos loudly, you now notice your hearing coming back. And you just now notice the warm crimson sliding down your forehead and down to your lashes. Blinking away, you wipe it, blood coating your palms, heart pumping rapidly, you panic. “Oh, shit.”

You need help, but you backtrack as the sounds from above get louder and louder as your hearing finally normalizes. Screams and gunshots can be heard, cannons are going off from your left, and you're absolutely petrified.

You just want to go home. This isn't exactly what you pictured when your brothers tell you of their feats while at sea.

The animals in their cages cry out in the same panic that swells in your chest. If you want to run away, they must want the same thing. In your fear-addled brain, you grab the set of keys that are set on the wall to open each of their cages. The chickens cluck and scamper away the second you open their cage, while the bigger animals are much more apprehensive. You coach them out of their enclosure, Belinda is the first one out, and the rest follows.

Something hits the hull of the ship, the sheer force knocking you to your knees. A split second later, you feel water under your trousers. Looking over your shoulders, you see water seeping through the gaping hole. And you notice that you're now alone below deck.

Trudging the rising water towards the stairs, someone familiar calls after you, her voice is hoarse yet you can recognize it even in your sleep.

“Princess!” Belinda calls, the real Belinda.

“I'm here!” You yell back, the water now reaching to your hips.

She quickly comes down the stairs, she gasps, eyes wide with panic. “My girl! Come hurry!” Hand reaching towards you, you thank your older brother for teaching you how to swim.

You finally reach her before the water could drown you. Belinda sighs in relief as she yanks you away from the freezing water.

“What were you thinking!” She roams her eyes towards your clothes, or the lack of it. Half hugging you, shielding you away from wandering eyes, she guides you towards the deck.

“I didn't cause this!” You defend yourself, shivering from the cold, regretting ripping off your warm gown.

“I know you didn't, stupid girl! We're getting sacked by pirates!” Belinda practically screams in your ears, and your blood runs cold. She groans when she sees the blood coating half of your face. She murmurs something about getting sacked once she gets home. Or was it axed?

“Pirates?!” You remember all the stories your older brothers told you. ‘Be wary of the sea, for they hold sinister beings’ they said, and you thought they were talking about sea monsters. You grew up, and now you know they weren't exactly talking about mythical beings. “Oh sh–” Belinda side eyes you. “Shucks!” In your peripheral, you spot cow belinda eating cabbage inside the galley.

Your handmaiden leads you down the hallway, “we need to hide you!” Her body shakes from fear at what they would do to a princess like you.

“What about you?” And you fear for her safety.

“I'll be alright, princess, I'll live but you might not.”

“What the fuck!” You let out not because of what she said but because of the large man waiting at the end of the corridor.

“We're dead.” Belinda says nonchalantly, as if this was a regular occurrence for her.

“You the princess?” He asks gruffly, his cutlass shines from the sun beaming through the window. The scars on his bare chest and the tattoo on his neck scares the living out of you.

“...no?” You say meekly. “You're on the wrong ship, mister. No princess here!” Your voice squeaks.

“This is ‘the raven's beak’, right?” He raises a thick eyebrow.

“...no” a big fat lie on your end that you hope he did not see through you.

He looks down at you, you can practically see the cogs in his head turn.

“We'll be going now, sir.” Belinda chuckles nervously. Just as you're about to escape the pirate, he grabs your bare shoulders. Your handmaiden immediately takes your hand.

“Hold on, you're not going anywhere. That corset is too pretty and intricate for some wench.” He drags you away whilst Belinda tries her best to yank you away, and in turn she gets dragged too. Her heels scrape against the wood, her face turning red from frustration.

“A wench!” You scoff, fruitlessly elbowing him. “Ow!” Your elbow hurts, it's like you punched a wall.

The stranger chuckles, “Time to meet the captain.”

“Wait, are you going to kidnap me?!”

“Of course we will.” He says matter of factly. Belinda continues to hold your hand but she has given up from trying to take you away from the large man. “For ransom.”

You burst into laughter, the man raises a brow at the sudden outburst. Belinda cocks her head at your strange behavior.

“Oh that's funny!” You continue to giggle even when you finally reach the deck. The sun hits your skin, warming your wet clothes. The smell of gunpowder makes your nose itch.

Both pirates and captured sailors look at you having a laughing fit. Your eyes water, and your chest is hurting from all the laughing. The man sets you down right next to the bound sailors. Head in your hands, giggling subsiding, fear encapsulates you again, and now you refuse to look up.

“Havin' a giggle, eh?” A voice asks.

“Yep.” You pop the p in your mouth, face still hidden from your captors.

“Is this fun to you, princess?” A feminine voice pipes up from your right.

“Not one bit!”

“She doesn't look like a princess, you sure it's her?” Another unknown voice asks.

“Not sure, Pav.” You feel someone crouch in front of you. The leather from his clothes squeaks, metals clinking together as he moves. “Maybe if the princess graces us with her beautiful face we can identify her?”

“Nope, not doing that.”

“C’mon, love, we're not going to hurt you. Your father wouldn't pay us if we did.”

“It's funny that you think my father will actually pay the ransom.” Your voice is still muffled by your hands.

“Why's that?” He asks softer.

“He doesn't like me, if you got one of my brothers then he will surely pay you.” You take your hands away, eyes going wide for a second once your vision is blessed by the handsome pirate. Clearing your throat, fixing your composure, you ignore the smirk on his pierced lips. “Y-you’re shit out of luck because you got me instead.”

“Nah,” he tilts his head with a smile. “I think I got lucky.”

Your cheeks are suddenly warm, you don't think it's from the sun. Hands clammy, you nervously laugh.

Surprisingly, he laughs with you. “Captain Hobie Brown,” he introduces himself. Your instincts kick in, but before you could introduce yourself, he smiles genuinely at you. A smile that has his eyes crinkling in the corners, a smile that weirdly fills you with comfort. “I know who you are, princess. And I know your father will pay the ransom.”

You knit your eyebrows. “How would you know?”

“Easy, you're his favourite.”

“Bullshit, now that's funny.”

“A princess' face but with the mouth of a sailor. I think you'd fit right in with us, hm?” Hobie takes his coat off to drape it on your bare shoulders. “Your sailors were frothing at the mouth.”

“W-what?” Sure enough, when you turn your head to the side, you see your father's men quickly avert their eyes.

“Why don't we strike a deal?” His grey eyes twinkles in the sun. It reminds you of when the light hits the water just right whenever you look out your bedroom window.

“Do not, princess! He's a liar! All pirates are.” Belinda scoffs at the pirate right before a blond woman stuffs her mouth with a piece of cloth.

Despite the warning, you're curious. “What deal?”

“Come with us,” he whispers lowly, just for your ears to hear. “Let's deceive your father and your fiancé, we get their money and you get out of your marriage. Easy.”

“That doesn't sound easy.”

“Nothing in life is.”

“How would you do it?” You roam your eyes around his face for any clue if he's lying. You don't find any.

“Come aboard, and you'll find out.” Hobie stands up, hand stretched out for you.

“Sounds like a trap.” You look up with a growing smile. “But it's better than getting married.” To Belinda's disapproval, you take his hand.

“Good choice—” You pull at his hand hard, eyes threatening, grip getting stronger, stronger than a princess should.

“Don’t fuck with me, Hobie. Trust me, whatever you're planning, let’s hope my fiancé doesn't actually care about me.” Something passes by your eyes. “If he does, if what you tell me is true, then my father's army will be the least of your worries.”

A grin spreads across his face, the silver he wears is glinting just like his grey eyes. “I know of your fiancé, and your warmongering brothers.” He leans closer to your bewildered face, “do you think I need the money? When I have them?” Leaning away, he takes a step back to show you his fleet, a fleet that could even rival your father's and your fiancé’s combined. Their flags wave in the wind, red sails dancing in the breeze. “What do you say, love? Would you rather get married, or stay and listen to my plan?”

You grin back, “I've heard of you,” the infamous pirate captain smugly smiles. “Let's hear your plans then, captain.”

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kimmiessimmies · 16 hours

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📩 Simblr question of the day: Do you have a process for making your simblr posts?

answer in whatever way is most comfortable for you and feel free to share this SQOTD around, make sure to use the hashtag SQOTD and tag me in separate posts ~ 💛

This question was contributed by an anon in @simblr-question-of-the-day !

Thank you SQOTD Anon or forwarding Anon for this question!

I have an extensive process for my story posts.

Timeline. The whole story is set out in a timeline. This is an Excel document outlining what is happening when. The timeline is very much a living document in the sense that I change it constantly. Things happen as I go that spark new ideas, and then new chapters are added to the timeline. But there's an outline, I know where I'm going. 😊

Writing. My story (and the timeline) is divided into chapters. First, I write a chapter. Very much like a book. I write all the dialogues, all the narrative and I make notes about things I want to add in image later.

Pose selection / scripting. I take my written chapter and go through it scene by scene pre-selecting poses from my database (a folder system) I think will fit what I want to tell/show in this scene.

Setting up. Downloading things I need for a scene, setting up the location, dressing Sims, getting everyone where they need to be.

Shooting. I shoot my chapter scene by scene. Pose, shoot, pose, shoot. It takes a while...

Adapting. While I shoot, I adapt my chapter. I change things depending on the shot I could get. Sometimes something unexpected happens in a shoot which prompts me to rewrite a large chunk of my chapter. I don't mind that, I like when the unexpected influences the story.

Select and edit. I go through my pictures and select and edit the ones I plan to use. Most edits are minor, just adapt light and frame the shot. But sometimes I need to do some drawing to make up for clipping. Most of my shots never make it into the story. 😄

Combine text and image. I go to WordPress first and put the chapter together; image, text, image, text, etc. I don't publish yet.

Simblr. Finally, it's Simblr time. I cut up the WordPress post, deciding which points are good places to do this, add tags etc and queue it all.

Coming Up. I put up my "Coming Up on A Taste of Honey" post a day before my chapter starts running.

And we're off! When I have a running chapter, my first story post of the day always goes live at 13:00 / 1pm (GMT +1) and then every half hour. Usually three posts a day, sometimes two, sometimes four. Depending on the flow.

For all non-story posts I don't really have a system. I try to plan replies to asks, taggames and random character posts in the same time-rhythm as the story posts, but sometimes it's more random.

Thanks for asking! Sorry for the essay, I hope it was at least somewhat interesting. I'm curious to see other answers to this question. 😊

#sqotd #asked and answered #about the process #text post

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ilovelovewithallmyheart · 17 hours

Note

Hiii i lovee your ficsss and i especially love the red string of fate workkk you should definatelyyy make that a seriesss

Thank you anon!!!

I shall deliver🫡

First part of the red string series here

(this is a gojo satoru fanfic btw)

Tag: @sapphireandange

-Quick overview-

In this world where the mythical red string that connects you to your soulmate exists, the type of string indicates what your relationship will be like.

Y/n's string is perfect and smooth, indicating that her relationship with her soulmate will be perfect.

Unfortunately for Y/n that luck doesn't extend very far because her soulmate keeps trying to sever the bond (which causes pain to both parties) and Y/n is currently unemployed. But have no fear! In this chapter, she gets recruited for the job as a manager at Jujutsu Tech.

Fingers crossed her new boss isn't an egotistical prick whose red string is connected to hers!!!😍😍😍

“Jesus Gojo. This would be your…twenty sixth manager this year?” Shoko picked up the records from the table, eyes widened with incredulity. Gojo shrugged, clearly taking it as a compliment. “I’ve scared off all of them.” Pride was laced in his words. “It says here that your seventeenth manager didn’t even last a day - what do you do to your managers?” Nanami looked over Shoko’s shoulders, then back at Gojo disapprovingly.

“Nothing. My presence is too great for their puny little weakling brains.” He crossed his arms, and Nanami understood why those managers all left. Gojo was, for lack of a better word, an absolute prick to anyone who was weaker than him so…he was a prick to everyone.

“I’m supposed to be meeting my new manager today actually.” Gojo grinned like a hunter meeting prey. “What was your bet again?” Gojo said as an afterthought. Nanami thought bets were pointless, but nontheless he still raised a bet. “I bet $50 that your new manager won’t last a week.”

Shoko chuckled. “You’re too kind Nanami. I bet $100 that they won’t last a day.”

Okay Y/n. This is it, you thought.

The only thing seperating you and your future boss were the tatami doors in front of you. You thought you were having a conniption.

He’s NOT going to be as bad as you think he’s going to be, you reasoned. Brains just have a tendancy for expecting the worst.

Right?

With that optimistic though in your head, you slid the doors to the side and stepped in.

Your boss was sitting face first on the table, completely motionless. HIs hair was white - you’ve never seen anyone with that kind of hair before.

God, his stillness was offputting. It was almost like he was-

DEAD? Terror seized your gut and sirens immediately began to shriek in your head.

You were panicing, freaking out, and you had absolutely no idea what to do. If you were the main character of a shounen anime, perhaps you would’ve checked the body, or done something heroic. But you, Y/n, were a failed jujutsu sorceror.

So naturally you reached for the tatami doors to get out-

Someone grabbed your wrist.

You turned around, surprised there was someone else in the room.

“AHHHHHHHHH!!!”

You supposedly ‘dead’ boss was standing, completely alive and well, somehow crossing the room in literal milliseconds. “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was deep and rough. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, turning his back to you to look out the windows overlooking Jujutsu Tech. He stretched, his yawn obnoxiously loud.

“To the…bathroom!” You wanted to melt into a puddle in the ground and evaporate. “You’re my new manager. But I call the shots around here.” He said, broad back still facing you. You nodded, then realised he couldn’t see you nodding. “Yes. Okay.”

“First rule as your boss: you’re not allowed to go to the bathroom when you’re on duty.”

…what.

You blanched.

How the hell were you supposed to do your business?

You bit your tongue. Remember Y/n...you’ll get paid. Your first paycheck. Come on….you urged yourself not to run out of the room.

“Okay.”

“Second rule. You’re not allowed to raise your voice above 60 decibels. Your scream nearly made me go deaf.”

You seriously didn’t know how you could tell how loud your voice was at all times, but you forced yourself to picture the feeling of the smooth, paper envelope. How the envelope slightly bulged in the middle, due to the money inside. You imagined yourself peeling it open and taking out the money-

“Third rule. I expect you to answer me whenever I tell you something.” His voice was already disapproving, and he turned around to coldly asses you, his blue eyes sharper than knives-

He stopped dead.

For some reasons, without even initiating the red string vision, it flickered to life.

Huh? You thought. You glanced down at your ring finger.

Why is the vision on…? You wondered as you followed the thick red string further, and further…

Until it tied in a neat bow on your boss’ ring finger.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x y/n #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #red string au #red string of fate #part 2 #shoko ieiri #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanamin

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roseghoul26 · 23 hours

Text

Chapter 7: My House of Stone...

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, Tags Updated Per Chapter Author's Note: sorry this took so long i got such bad writers block Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay Chapter List

When Arthur didn’t show up after a few days, you tried to not let it get to you. He was a busy man, no doubt even more busy because of the job involving your husband. You ignored the fact that he proved that he would fight everything to come and see you, consequences be damned. It was almost out of character that he hadn’t come to see you, or had reached out to you in some way.

When a few more days passed with no sign of the outlaw, you found yourself going back over your last encounter, when he had taken you out on Bear. You don’t recall any hesitancy or doubt in his eyes when he was with you, or maybe you were too blind with your own desire to see it. That thought made you reel, panicking that you made him uncomfortable and scared him off.

But you didn’t let that thought fester for too long. You spent your days doing menial tasks with no real passion, trying to just pass the time. It worked, mostly, but you were getting antsy. How you wished you had an easy way to leave the prison that had become the house.

Even more days passed, each day becoming more and more anxiety ridden. Instead of worrying that you’d scared him off now, you were worried that he was dead, or in shackles, about to be hung up in the town square. Your nights were becoming restless, images of his dead body haunting you when you closed your eyes. You’d wake with bloodshot eyes, even more tired than you were when you went to bed.

You eventually stopped counting the days, not wanting to know how long he’d been gone for. You tried to spend more and more time outside of the house, bringing blankets and books from Hans’ office to your garden, waiting to escape the confinement of the walls around you. It helped, for a bit, yet you still found your mind wandering, constantly worrying about Arthur.

But no matter how hard you tried, you found that you couldn’t hate the man. Upset, sure, angry, definitely, but not hateful. No, your heart wouldn’t allow it. You were still in love with him, and the lack of contact from him was hurting you, both physically and mentally. It was hard to eat, hard to sleep, hard to find it in yourself to take care of your body. You knew it was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help it. He had wormed his way into your very being, and left a hole that couldn’t be fixed. You just hoped that he’d return soon and make you feel whole again.

It was during this time that you decided to draft a letter to your family, hoping that it would alleviate the loneliness that was once removed by Arthur. You sat in Hans’ office, pen shaking in your hand as you stared at the blank piece of paper in front of you, the task proving to be more difficult than you imagined. It had been two years since you’d last spoken to them, and you had no idea what to say. How much was too much? How honest was too honest?

You decided to keep it simple, and you began to write. It took a few tries, but you eventually produced a letter that you were satisfied with.

My dear family,

I have missed you all, incredibly so. Words don’t even begin to do it justice. I apologize for not reaching out earlier, but my circumstances wouldn’t allow it. I do so hope to hear back from you, and perhaps have the pleasure of seeing each other in the flesh soon.

Your daughter,

You finished it with your name, but just your first name. Tucking it into an envelope, you addressed it with the address Arthur had provided you, and you swallowed the lump in your throat when you saw Arthur’s handwriting, rereading the note he left you.

Making sure to leave the office as you found it, you made your way downstairs, setting the letter on the kitchen table, ready to grab for whenever you decided to go into town. You spent a few days at home after writing the letter, hoping that one night you’d hear the familiar hoofbeats of Bear, but were left disappointed each night.

Eventually, though, you needed to leave, if just for a short bit of time. It had been roughly three weeks since you’d last left the house, and if you had to look at the same things again you were going to snap, leaving the house as a pile of ash. So, with a small purse with some cash, you took the letter and yourself and left.

If it weren't for your current mindset, the walk to the main road would’ve been relaxing, enjoying the noises of animals and the cool breeze against your skin. But everything is annoying you now. The wind was causing your hair to blow in your face, and if you had to hear that birdsong one more time, you were going to lose it. Or maybe you’d already lost it.

The sun blinded you as you left the shade of the thick forest, stepping out onto the main road. You always hated doing this, but you were desperate. Slowly, you began to walk towards Rhodes, keeping a close ear for any riders.

It took a few minutes, but you eventually heard someone approaching from behind, and you perked up, putting on your friendliest face as you stopped and turned. It was a carriage, and you began to wave them down, but they ignored you, not even bothering to glance in your direction. Rude.

Still, you kept on, not letting one bad interaction deter you. A few more carriages and wagons passed, with similar responses. Everyone looked grim, you noticed, stone-faced and somber expressions. Now you were starting to feel dejected, and you debated just heading back to the house; you weren’t that far anyway.

Before you could come to a decision, a single rider passed you, glancing at you even though you didn’t wave him down. Something like recognition flashed across his face, even though you’d never seen this man in your life. He had longer, black-brown hair that was tied into a small ponytail, with a mustache and goatee, and a bowler hat protecting his tanned skin. He had a blue denim jacket on, with a red handkerchief around his neck, and you noted that he was surprisingly well dressed for being an alone traveler on the road.

“Mrs. Kerrigan?” He asked, almost in disbelief, like you were a creature from folklore, pulling his gray and white horse to a halt beside you.

You braced yourself, ready to bolt as you stared at the man. “Yes?” You asked, suspicious. It wasn’t uncommon for people to recognize who you were, but they’d never acted like they knew you personally. You dove into the deep recess of your brain trying to remember who he was, but drawing a blank; he was a stranger to you.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned, which was a tad bit off putting from a complete stranger. Still, you couldn't detect any malicious intent in his words.

Sighing, you answered truthfully. “I’m tryin’ to get to Rhodes. You… you don’t happen to be goin’ there, do you?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he answered, truly sounding regretful, but then his face turned thoughtful.

“Ah. No worries then. Have a good day.”

You tried to continue moving, but his smooth voice made you halt again. “But it’s close enough. I can only bring you to the outskirts, though.”

“You’d do that?” You smiled when he nodded. “I can pay, too. Thank you, Mr…?”

“Escuella. But you can call me Javier.” He extended a hand to you, helping you on to the back of his horse. You sat sidesaddle, keeping an appropriate amount of distance between your bodies, your hands resting on his sides.

Javier. You remember Arthur telling you about someone with the same name, and although you highly doubted that this was the same Javier, you wished that he had a drawing of him. “Thank you, Javier.”

“Of course, Mrs. Kerrigan.” Javier gestured his horse forward, setting an easygoing pace; not too fast, not too slow. A small pang hit your heart as you remembered the last time you were on a horse, your body pressed up to Arthur’s, his rough voice in your ears, the playful glint in his eye. God, you missed him.

“I’ll pay you when we get to town,” you repeated after a few minutes of riding, and you felt Javier chuckle.

“I appreciate it, but I think Arthur would kill me.” Your blood ran cold, and your heart began to race just at the mention of him. So this was Javier, the one Arthur traveled with in the mountains to rescue John. It makes sense then, why he seemed to recognize you.

“Well, it’s nice to put a face to a name,” you commented.

“He’s talked about me, then?”

“All good things,” you reassured, and he just shook his head, not believing you. You desperately wanted to ask him about Arthur, if he was alive or not, but you weren’t sure if any answer he gave you would hurt less. “Does… does he talk about me?”

Javier snorted. “Yes and no. He’ll talk about you, sometimes so much that we want to kill him, but then refuses to answer any of our questions. Some of us even doubted your existence,” he laughed, “but I’m glad to see that we’re wrong. You’ve made him real happy. I haven’t seen him this… optimistic in a long time.”

You were glad he was facing forward, so he couldn’t see the way those words broke you. Biting back tears, you kept your voice steady. “How is Arthur?”

“He’s fine?” He responded, very clearly confused as to why you didn’t know. “He’s been, well, ‘helping’ your husband.”

Oh. “So the names he got led to somethin’?”

“Sure did. We were able to track down suppliers, and disrupt his business there. He’s yet to reach out for help, but Dutch doesn’t think it’ll be long now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” You weren’t lying. “But he’s well?” You couldn’t help but ask about him again.

“Yes. It’s been a crazy couple of days, but we’re pulling through.”

Only a couple of days. You refrained from asking what he’d gotten up to earlier, not wanting to appear desperate, even if you were. “I’m glad. And don’t make me regret saying this, but if anyone ever needs a place to lie low for a bit, point ‘em towards my house. At least when my husband isn’t there.” Even though you’d barely met any of the members, you couldn’t help but feel protective over the gang because of how deeply Arthur cared about them. If there was anything you could do to help them, you would.

“I’ll be sure to let them know. Thank you.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Arthur was right about you; you’re too kind for this world.”

You murmured a small thanks, and the two of you fell into an easy silence for the rest of the ride. When the familiar outskirts of Rhodes appeared, you felt Javier begin to grow nervous, his head moving back and forth, like he was on the lookout for something. “We can stop here,” you said once you reached a long abandoned house, the yellow paint chipping and peeling.

Red dust kicked up when your feet hit the ground, and you quickly took out a few bills, handing them to Javier. “Again, I can’t take this,” he held up a hand, a small smile on his face.

“I ain’t payin’ you for the ride, though. I payin’ you to deliver a message to Arthur,” you countered, but he didn’t relent. Sighing, you tucked them into the saddlebags before facing him with your hands on your hips. “Tell him to come see me. Please.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know. Do you have a ride back home?”

“I can arrange something’. Now go; you look uncomfortable just being here.”

He chuckled, not disagreeing with you. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kerrigan.”

“You too, Javier. Stay safe.”

He nodded, smiling kindly at you before turning, taking off back down the road you’d just been on. Turning toward the town, you began to make your way to the center of town, right to the post office in the railroad station.

It was eerily quiet, more like a ghost town than anything. There wasn’t a single soul lingering on the porches or the street, and the shutters of most of the buildings were shut, which was extremely unusual for the middle of the day on a weekday. There weren’t even any animals out; it was just you and the dust.

After a few tense minutes of walking, you eventually climbed the stairs of the railroad station, the creak of the old wood almost making you jump. It was just as empty on the inside as it was outside, the other person in the building, the person behind the counter, who smiled tensely as you entered.

“Good afternoon, missus,” he exclaimed, the chip in his voice far too forced. “Say, can’t say I’ve seen you ‘round here before.”

“You’ve probably met my husband, Mr. Kerrigan,” you responded, making your way to the counter, pulling the letter from your bag.

“Ah yes. Well, how can I help you, Mrs. Kerrigan?”

You slid the letter across to him. “I’d like to send this, please.”

“Not a problem at all. That’ll be five cents.”

Sliding him a nickel from your bag, you looked around as he stamped the letter, putting it in the appropriate mailbox. “Is there anythin’ else I can help you with?”

“Why is it so… dead?” You glanced back at the man, who had visibly paled at your question.

“Interesting choice of words, ma’am. Let’s just say we had an… incident yesterday. Nothing befitting a proper lady like yourself.” He explained, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

Ominous. Realizing you weren’t going to get far with him, you wished him a good day before leaving. You made your way to the general store; Mr. Banks would let you know.

The bell chimed as you entered, and you called out for the older gentleman, and you heard the sound of crashing from the back room, clearly scaring the poor man. A disheveled Mr. Banks peeked around the corner, visibly relaxing when he saw it was just you. You opened your mouth to try and apologize, but he cut you off. “You didn't bring that ‘deputy’ with ya, did you?” He asked, growing tense again.

“Arthur? No, he’s not with me.”

“Good. I’ll kill him on sight if he even dares to step foot in Rhodes again. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Physically, no. “Mr. Banks, what in the world-”

“Him and his buddies shot up the town yesterday. Killed the good Leigh Gray, Lord bless his soul,” he shuddered, and you halted in your tracks, your somewhat amused smile at his ramblings falling.

“What?”

He pointed to a newspaper on the counter, and you cautiously stepped toward it. Bloodthirsty Gang Kills Dozens was the headline, a few paragraphs of text following below it. Your head spun at the new information, blocking out the words of Mr. Banks. You couldn’t gauge what you were feeling; you weren’t disgusted, or revolted, even though you knew you should be. You weren’t surprised; you knew that Arthur had done things, unspeakable things, and would continue to do so. You weren’t angry at what he did, but you were angry at him for putting himself in harm’s way like that.

“I’ll take the paper,” you cut Mr. Banks off, sliding him a few bills, and he slid the paper to you. You barely mumbled out a ‘good day’ before you left, nose deep in the paper as you headed back to the railroad station, sitting on the bench waiting for the carriage services, and you read as you waited.

You read all about the way the gang played both families, something you had no idea was happening. You weren’t hurt that he didn’t tell you; you knew that some things had to remain secrets. But you didn’t care much about the detail, eyes scanning for any telling of death or injury to the Van Der Linde gang. You knew that Javier probably didn’t lie to you, but you still needed to be sure.

Your heart dropped when you saw that there was indeed one confirmed killing of a member of the Van Der Linde gang, but you didn’t recognize the description they provided. The others, it seemed, were still at large, and unhurt. Knowing how deeply Arthur cared about each member of the gang, you knew that this death was probably weighing heavily on him. If only he would come and see you, just so you could help him.

The sound of a carriage approaching had you standing, tucking the paper under your arm. Getting in, you directed the driver to your house, and you quickie got lulled into the rocking rhythm of the vehicle. You ignored the paper under your arm, even though it felt like a million pounds.

The ride felt like forever, but eventually you pulled into the familiar forested area of Ringneck Creek. The driver helped you out, and after you paid him you headed inside, feeling like you were just going through the motions. Despite everything you’d learned, there was one thing that really bothered you. The shootout had only been yesterday; what had stopped him from seeing you during the previous three weeks?

Even though it wasn’t late, you found yourself getting ready for bed anyway, keeping the paper on the table downstairs and grabbing a book from Hans' office before curling beneath the sheets. Your eyes skimmed the words, not processing them, your brain too distracted by today’s events.

You weren’t quite sure how you “read” for, but you must’ve fallen asleep at some point. A loud noise, like a door being slammed, had you bolting upright, pulled out of your uneasy slumber, the book luckily not hitting the ground. When you didn’t hear anything for a few moments, you thought you had just imagined it, and you went to try and go back to bed.

That was until you heard the sound of heavy footfalls. Shit. Tearing off the covers, you padded lightly across the wooden floor, wishing that Hans wasn’t so opposed to keeping guns in the house. You had nothing to defend yourself with, so kept to the shadows as you left the room.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you flinched when you saw the shadow of a man making its way toward the stairs. You began to back away, back into the safety of your room, until you recognized the familiar silhouette of the man. Don’t tell me…

Cautiously, you made your way downstairs, barely making a noise. You had to stifle a gasp once you reached the bottom, your suspicions confirmed when you saw Arthur standing in your dining room, back to you, glancing over the newspaper you’d set on the table. His hair was longer, his clothing unkempt, but it was still the same man you had fallen for.

Too many emotions ran through you, from anger to longing to desire to sadness. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to kiss him or punch him in the face, and so you just stood at the bottom of the stairs, shocked.

Eventually, Arthur turned, the only sign of him being startled was his eyes widening. Those beautiful blue eyes that had haunted your thoughts, that you longed to see again. You let out a small gasp then, audible only to you. It was really hard to remain still, every fiber of your being craving to be in his arms again, to feel his lips on yours.

Neither of you knew what to say, just staring at each other. Even in the low light, you could see that Arthur looked exhausted, bags under his eyes and his shoulders sagging. Being on the run would do that to a man. “So Javier wasn’t kiddin’. You’re alive.” You didn’t care that your voice was scathing.

Javier must’ve said something to him, because Arthur didn’t seem surprised that you mentioned the other man. If you ever met him again, you’d have to thank him for sticking to his word about delivering a message. “I…” he rubbed at the back of his neck, “I’ll leave.” Oh, how you missed his rugged voice.

Arthur turned to head back out the front door. “Stay. Please.” You called out, making your voice softer, stopping him in his tracks. Don’t leave me again.

He took a deep breath before turning back around, somethin like guilt on his features. “It’s been three weeks, Arthur.” You sighed out.

“I know, darlin’.” You nearly broke then, his name for you crumbling your resolve. Yet you held, fingers gripping the railing with a death grip. “There was an… incident-”

“The shootout in town,” you cut him off. “Don’t sugarcoat things. I know what you get up to. I know the things you’ve done.”

Arthur didn’t bother to try to disagree, and you were thankful for that. “After the shootout in Rhodes, I couldn’t risk comin’ over to see ya’.”

“I understand, but that was only a few days ago. Arthur, it's been three weeks.” You didn’t bother to hide the pain in your voice. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too.”

“Then where’ve you been?” He didn’t respond, and you laughed bitterly. “I thought you were dead, Arthur. Or you were about to be strung up in the gallows. Or you… I was worried sick, and the only reason I knew you weren’t dead was because Javier told me.”

“I’m sorry-”

“I don’t want your apology, I want an explanation.” You let go of the railing. “Why?” Arthur hung his head, and you began to step towards him.

“You deserve somethin’ better, darlin’.”

“And you thought the best thing for me was to leave me alone and heartbroken. And who is this ‘someone better’ I deserve? Hans? No, I don’t think so.”

“I ain’t much better! You said it yourself, you know the things I’ve done. I’ve killed people, so many I’ve lost track. Hell, I was the one who killed Sheriff Gray. My whole life I’ve tricked and duped and betrayed people; I ain’t a good man’. You’re too sweet, too kind. You deserve somethin’ better than that, than me.”

“You think I didn’t know that you’ve hurt people, Arthur? You didn’t think when you said you were an outlaw that I wouldn’t, I don’t know, realize you’ve done some unlawful things? I know what kind of man you are, and who you claim to be, yet when I think of you I think of a man that is also good, generous, sweet.” You continued to move towards him, even as he shook his head.

“A man that would come check up on a sad woman in the woods just ‘cause she asked, that would find her family’s address so she could write to them.” You were close enough to him that you could reach out and touch him.

“A man that’s made my miserable existence feel worthwhile, that has become the best goddamn part of my life.” His hands were shaking, you found when you took one of them in both of yours. Those familiar calloused fingers were oh so comforting, and you brought them close to your heart.

You took a deep breath. “A man that I’ve completely fallen in love with.”

His hands stopped shaking, or maybe yours were. You couldn’t tell.

Arthur was speechless, but you could tell that he didn’t oppose your confession, because he pulled you closer. His free hand cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “You shouldn’t…”

“Too late now, Arthur.” You breathed out. “I… I love you.”

“You shouldn’t.” He repeated again with more edge, but you could see how conflicted he was. “Nothin’ good is gonna come from it.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because every damn good thing in my life gets ruined. Every person I lo- care ‘bout, I make their lives worse, and they regret ever openin’ their hearts to me. Did ya know I almost married a girl, then I ruined that. I- I had a kid,” his voice grew thick with emotion, “and he’s no longer with us. All because of me, and the life I lead. All because wherever I go, someone’ll be huntin’ down the people I care about, no matter how innocent they are. I couldn’t live with myself if somethin’ happened to you ‘cause of me.”

Oh. You were speechless now, and your heart ached for the man in front of you. “Arthur… I can’t guarantee that somethin’ won’t happen to me, but do you really wanna live your life in fear, pushing away those who care about you?”

“I can’t lose you, darlin’. I can’t.”

“But you almost did, pushin’ me away like that. What then?”

“I…” he took a shaky breath, his hand sliding down to hold the side of your neck gently. “I don’t know.”

“So don’t push me away. Yes, it’s terrifying, caring about someone like this. You don’t think I worry ‘bout you every time you’re not here? That I don’t worry that we’ll be found out, and this whole thing will come burning down around us? But isn’t it worth it? ”

He sighed, before resting his head against yours, his hat sliding back a bit. “It is.”

“Then mean it. To yourself. To me.” His lips were so close now, and you wanted nothing more than to close the space between them. You let go of his hand, choosing to rest your hands on his chest instead. You could feel his heart beating rapidly under your fingers, just as fast as yours was. “I love you, Arthur, and there isn’t a damn thing you can say that’ll change that.”

Arthur exhaled shakily, and even in the dim light you could see a small smile on his lips. “And I’m grateful for your stubbornness.” You chuckled lightly at his words. “I’ve been a fool-”

“None of that. You ain’t a fool, Arthur.”

“Maybe not. But I’m a fool for you.” You rolled your eyes at his cheesy comment, knees growing weak at the now grin on his face. That dazzling, beautiful grin. But his expression sobered, and you temporarily feared the worst. “You should know that I do feel the same, darlin’. I really do. It’s just, I can’t…”

“You can’t say it back,” you refrained from sounding too crestfallen. You could be content with the fact that he agreed he felt the same. For now. He shook his head, looking ashamed, and you forced his gaze back up to yours when he tried to look away. “Then show me. Show me that you love me.”

“I could spend every last minute of my life showin’ you, and it still wouldn’t be enough time,” he chuckled, his thumb brushing just below your bottom lip. His eyes followed the movement, and something darkened in them. “But I can certainly try.”

He leaned in, finally closing the distance, and you felt like you could cry with relief. His lips felt even better than you remembered, more desperate than you’d ever felt them. You dropped his hand, arms wrapping around his neck as he continued to kiss you, his hat falling to the ground as you tangled your fingers in his hair. He pulled away far too soon for your liking, the hand still holding your face brushing your cheek. “Darlin’, you’re cryin’,” he murmured, his brow creasing with concern.

“Good tears,” you laughed, a genuine smile gracing your lips. “I just missed you, so much.”

Another flash of guilt appeared on his face. “You promise?”

“Promise.” He regarded you for a few moments, and you nearly pulled him back down yourself, desperate to feel his lips again. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait too long, because he was kissing you again, weeks of pent up longing, fear, and love being poured into it. It made you dizzy, and your fingers tangled further into his hair, eliciting a groan from the man.

Arthur’s free hand gripped your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he kissed you. They gripped even harder when you ran your tongue against his lips, not expecting you to take control of the kiss. He willingly let his lips part, letting you explore him with ease.

You hadn’t even realized Arthur had moved until you felt your back hit a wall, the back of your head cradled by his hand. It made you groan, breaking away from the kiss, and Arthur wasted no time trialing his lips down your neck. Your head rolled back, letting out pleased sighs and light moans as he littered kisses across your neck, his facial hair ticking the sensitive skin.

“Arthur,” you groaned, hands still in his hair, and you felt him hum in response.

“My beautiful girl,” you heard him mutter, more to himself than anything, and you were grateful for the stability the wall provided. The hand on your waist moved down, securing under your thigh and lifting it so that your leg wrapped around him. You inadvertently began to rock your hips, eliciting another delicious groan from Arthur.

“God, Arthur, I need you.” You didn’t care if you were pleading. You’d been plenty patient; you were allowed to be greedy.

“I’m takin’ my time with ya. We’ve got all night.”

Another groan tore from your throat. All night. “You promise?” You asked, echoing his previous words. If he was promising all night, then you could be patient for a little while longer.

You felt him grin against your skin, nipping lightly at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “Promise.”

Author's Note: surprise javier appearance bam!

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

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