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orangechickenpillow · 5 months

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Wyll is the one who starts it. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since Karlach visited her parents' grave -- replaying her words over and over in his head, feeling them in his heart. One night it gets too much, the thinking, so he just does it. Karlach gets up from the fire, giving her usual cheery "good night" to everyone, giving her nightly hug to someone. It changes every night, but this time it's Tav. And she gets her usual mismatched chorus of replies from whoever's left around the fire. Sometimes it's only Lae'zel and Astarion who are still up, so she only gets a grunt and a "Yes, good night then." Sometimes it's a "Sweet dreams" from Gale or a vague "Night" from Shadowheart as she waves her away. Tonight, the chorus consists of notes sung by most of them, as they're all still up. And Wyll says it.

"Night, Karlach. Taters."

The woman stops, a smile frozen on her face even as her eyes express something else entirely a moment before tears start to well.

"Oh dear," Astarion hums from where he's lounged back like a cat, and the mild, uninterested concern seems to be more for the rest of them than Karlach herself. Karlach, whose face has begun to smoke as a few tears evaporate on her cheek. But they're gone just as quickly as they were there, and then she's making a noise that usually means someone is about to get crushed in a hug, or kissed, or both.

"I... I haven't heard that in-- ages," she chokes, reaching for Wyll -- hesitating for just a moment (she's come to understand that it's usually better to ask before touching someone -- a lesson learned quickly thanks to some of her more guarded companions) -- before grabbing the front of his nighrshirt and tugging him into a fierce, warm hug. His wine spills and he nearly drops the glass moving it out of the way so it doesn't get crushed between them. Shadowheart, sitting next to him, takes it on instinct, and then Wyll is hugging Karlach back (almost) just as hard.

"Awwwe, Wyll." She leanes back, a few more tears swimming in her firey eyes. Then she tilts her head down to bump their horns together. "Taters," she murmurs, cupping his face in her hand. Wyll feels warm and knows it's all the love coming off of his companion. All the love that's stored in a single word that doesn't really make sense, but means so much.

"Well," a familiar haughty voice pipes up. "Wasn't that just sickeningly adorable."

Astarion gets a light smack to either of his shoulders -- one by Gale and the other by Tav, who is watching the whole affair with some tears in their own eyes and a smile on their face.

Yes, Wyll is the one who starts it, but he's not the only one who does it. Much like Karlach's "good night"s and her doled out affection, taters becomes a thing, and her "good night"s often accompany the expression of love. And the chorus of replies occasionally include it, too. Hers and Tav's nightly parting involve whispered "Taters" to one another. Wyll continues to use it, earning him many a gentle headbutt from the woman. She even gets a sighr and a reluctant "Fine. Taters, Karlach" from Shadowheart, who tries to hide her smile at the firey woman's excited squeals -- the excitement barely contained within her body.

Some of her conpanions are more giving with the word than others.

"I don't understand," Lae'zel says one night, taking a rare break from sharpening her sword to join them by the fire. "This... 'taters'... it makes no sense."

"It just means 'I love you,'" Karlach replies, shifting enough to knock her boot against Astarion's. He's lounging between her legs, arm propped up on one of her bent knees.

"Chk! Love. It's bad enough that there is one word for it, let alone as one as foolish as 'taters.'"

"I think it's delightful," Gale announces swirling some wine in the glass that Wyll lent him.

"You would, wouldn't you," Astarion snorts airily. Karlach bounces her knee -- the one Astarion isn't leaning on -- a sure sign that she was stopping herself from hugging him.

"Yes, well," Gale continues. "Some of us enjoy feeling emotions like love and pleasantness."

"I enjoy feeling emotions. Carnal lust, animalistic pleasure, the glee of driving a knife into someone's throat, among other things." Astarion lists them out on his fingers.

"You walked into that one, my friend," Wyll says with a smirk, crossing his legs -- crossing one of his ankles over Gale's shin.

"Love is not something I've often considered," Astarion suddenly says, sounding like he's talking to himself. "Lust, of course. On rare occasions, I've even liked a few wretched souls, but love... Thats.... well--" He falters a little, tsks, and then lifts his chin. "It's new."

Karlach is practically vibrating now. Astarion opens his mouth, eyes narrowing-- and then he rolls them and says "Gods, you might as well do it or our little bonfire isn't going to be the only thing lit ablaze" and it's permission enough for Karlach to shoot forward and wrap her arms around him.

"Astarion," she draws out his name, her voice pitched higher with excitement and emotion until it's almost bursting. She hooks her chin over his shoulder and nuzzles into him. "Taters," she whispers.

From across the fire, Tav notices the briefest moment of vulnerability flash across his face. It's raw, and Tav can see it's heavy, but his eyebrows knit in a way that suggests it's not exactly unwelcome. But then it's gone, and their usual Astarion returns.

"I am not saying it back," he says with the air of one brushing off the front of their tunic. Which he would have done if Karlach wasn't still hugging him.

"That's probably for the best, fancy boy, 'cause if you did, I'd have to kiss your pointy face."

"Watch out, fire girl. Remember, I bite," he threatens, a dark smile on his face -- feeling much more comfortable with this kind of affection. Maybe it was his taters.

Because taters isn't just about taters. It isn't just a word to say "I love you," it's a way to show you care.

"I still find it strange and... repulsive," Lae'zel bordely comments.

Astarion clicks his tounge, rolling his eyes once again. "It's like how you feel about that damned sword, gith."

"Ah," Lae'zel nods. Rising to her feet, she holds the hilt of her sword up in gesture. "My sword offers much better company," she says, then without further comment, heads off toward her sharpening stone. Everyone around the fire groans.

"Now you've done it," Gale mutters.

"Me? I haven't done a damn thing. She was going to do it anyway," Astarion leans forward, propping an elbow on Karlach's knee to better point an accusatory finger at the wizard. Karlach is grinning like an idiot.

"Taters, Lae," she calls to the retreating githyanki.

Lae'zel stops, and for a moment, nothing happens. And then she turns around, an expression that could have almost been confusion on her stony face.

"Yes, I suppose that--" she pauses, her voice no less coarse than usual, but perhaps there's a bit of thoughtfulness in it -- like how one might consider a strange corpse to see if it held anything valuable. "...Taters."

It's nothing more than a word, and it's nothing more than Lae'zel trying it out, but Karlach's face is doing that thing again and Astarion can feel it a second before it happens -- too late to do anything but mutter a "Shit-- Gale!" as if the wizard could do anything to save him from Karlach throwing her arms around his middle and squeezing him like a giant teddy bear. A very pointy teddy bear.

"Did you hear that, oh my gods," she cries, burrowing into Astarion's shoulder. His limbs flail and his legs nearly smack her horns as she shakes him like a dog with a chew toy.

"Kuh--" his arms fly up. Gale is laughing. Wyll is laughing. Astarion swears he'll kill them both. "Karlach, please--"

"Oh right," she says, and at least she stops shaking him. "I always forget you're all tiny and breakable."

"I beg your pardon."

"I mean, she's not wrong," Wyll says from behind his glass of wine, and Gale whistles low.

"This is your fault," Astarion turns his pointy finger to Wyll. "If it weren't for you, none of this would be happening and we could go back to being perfectly cold, untrusting strangers with a common goal."

"I don't know, Astarion, I think you like it here with us."

The vampire straightens up and lifts his chin. "Don't think too hard, darling, your horns might fall off."

"Ha!" Karlach laughs. She's still got her arms wrapped around the smaller man's waist, but they're hanging loosely now. No one mentions how Astarion has rested his forearms over her's. "That's how I lost mine," she jokes, tilting her head in gesture to her broken horn.

"And no one's surprised," the vampire nods knowingly, giving her hand a pat.

Suddenly, the grind and scream of steel against stone fills the night.

Everyone groans.

"That's it," Gale says, rising to his feet. "I'm going to hit the sack. Preferably hard enough to knock me out so I might get some actual rest. Good night, everyone," he nods. "Taters."

"Taters." It's an echo as everyone replies automatically. Unconsciously.

Almost like it's become a habit.

Oops.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 karlach #bg3 wyll #bg3 astarion #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #bg3 tav #shadowheart #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 lae'zel #lae'zel #astarion #karlach #wyll ravengard #bg3 party banter #bg3 headcanons #writing drabble

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glenechoslasher · 28 days

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"Here With Me" ||

Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader

Rating: None

Asked by @photo1030

Ok, I gotcha….what about the first time someone tells Arthur they love him? Could be reader, m or f, or an existing character?

Oh I like this idea a lot and think it’s such a bittersweet feeling for Arthur, I won’t get into the meat of it, but you know how he feels about people calling him ‘a good man’, or just how Mary ended up treating him before she left. This man deserves the world, okay?

It had been an age since he heard those words, never had he thought he would actually ever hear them uttered to him, nor did he think he'd ever find the courage to mutter them aloud again to any living soul. He found himself undeserving of any kind words, living the life he had, he knew there'd be a mark upon his soul, and anyone foolish enough to accept him as he was, well they were just that: foolish.

But there you were, admiring him from afar for so long that it almost felt like a fever dream when you two met. He'd brushed anything off at first, just thinking that whatever the weird spark he felt was just in his head, he always ignored those gut feelings because he felt that they didn't deserve to be had. But slowly, those large thick walls were chiseled away one by one over time.

When you had decided to tell him how you finally felt, he wasn't sure what to do, he sat there unblinking, staring directly at you. What was he thinking? Why was he just… sitting there? You knew he wasn't one to delve into his feelings so openly, but your admitted confession had meant a lot to you, so your leg bounced up and down due to your nerves. You knew Arthur well enough that if you rushed him or made him feel like he needed to supply an answer right away, it wouldn't work out so well for either of you, but that didn’t stop you from assuming the worst.

As you sat there and allowed Arthur to think your confession through, you sat back and thought of all the ways he'd changed your life and the way you saw things, but most importantly, he always looked out for you, even when he felt that he shouldn't have gotten you involved in his life to begin with. Boldly, you reached across the wooden table that sat in the camp, the smell of fire and booze hung heavily around you, the lingering gang members that were awake were too drunk or tired to pay you two any mind. Your hand was placed on his, you didn't need to exchange words, you felt that he understood how you felt and why, well, you hoped he understood.

Arthur was good at thinking of others, though he wouldn't care to admit it, always thinking of what was best for you, but never what was best for himself or you both. He was a stubborn man, but it was one of the many reasons you did love him.

His silence wasn't odd, you preferred that he sat back to think things through rather than immediate dismissal, it meant that he was considering your words more than anyone could realize. But you loved to hear him speak, that gruff voice that you could never get enough of, and he graced you with the sound of it.

“You uh, you sure you'd wanna love a man like me? You know what that means, don'tcha?” He asked you, his eyes stared at you beneath the brim of his hat. The light from the fire illuminated half of his face and he looked so beautiful, like a painting that was created with love and carefulness with each stroke.

You just nod in response to his question as you sit across from him, a small smile across your face. “I do, yeah,” you say with a small breath of laughter. “I wouldn't say it carelessly, Arthur. Loving you with all of the ups and downs it comes with is something I'm willing to live with.”

Arthur listened to you once again, his jaw slightly clenched as he held back what he truly wanted to say, which would only be dismissing himself, and you smiled at his ability to bite his tongue.

You couldn't help but chuckle at how his face contorted with so many emotions at once, and he just looked up at you with a hard stare, but it softened as soon as he locked eyes with you.

“No matter what I say, you ain't gonna listen to reason, are you?” He asked you, his tone more gentle this time.

You shook your head. “Nope. I've made up my mind. As grim as it seems, this world doesn't promise us anything, so why not take what time you have and enjoy it? You deserve it, Arthur.” Your grasp on his hand tightened, showing him you weren't going anywhere, he was stuck with you.

The gunslinger swallowed, how mouth suddenly dried as he nodded to your words. “It's… been a while since I heard ‘em, figured I never would again. But… it's nice to hear ‘em, ‘specially comin’ from you.” Arthur offered a smile as he continued to look at you beneath his hat, not wanting to give away just how happy you'd made him. Not yet.

“I love you, that's all you need to know,” you assured the man, “you don't have to do things alone, you never had to, okay? Let me share your burdens with you, and if you don't wanna say it back yet, that's okay. I ain't going anywhere.”

Arthur just nodded again, the smile widened, stretching his lips. “‘Course you ain't, wouldn't let you if you tried,” he said with a chuckle that followed.

For now, those were the only words you needed to hear from him, you knew that with time and patience, that man who was so closed off to the world would allow you a glimpse of his heart.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan drabble #arthur morgan writing #writing drabble #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 arthur morgan #red dead writings #tinalbion writings #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x reader #gender neutral reader

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avvail-whumps · 1 month

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I’m just thinking about a vampire hunter who lost their arm. They replace it with a prosthetic one made out of silver. Imagining the pain when they grab a vampire, or pin them down by their neck while their skin burns under the silver and there’s nothing they can do because it hurts so much. Fingers desperately trying to find something other than the arm to grab onto to try and pry them off.

#fantasy whump #vampire whump #vampire whumpee #vampire hunter whumper #vampires #vampire hunters #whump writing #whump drabble #whump scenario #whump #whumpblr #whump community #writing #my writing #writing drabble #writing ideas #whump ideas #avvail whumps #generic whump drabbles

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maybeitsalivescribbles · 3 months

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VH - Locked & out

“I’m sure,” simpered Villain to the chained Vampire Hero between two bodyguards, “that you’d love to know what happened to the last Hero who went against me.”

“Well, now that you mention it -”

“You’re here to rescue them, aren’t you ? You’ve nicely played the part of the naive newcomer, but I know who you are, vampire. I’m sorry to say that you’ve been betrayed. The other Hero was very cooperative.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sure you’ve realized that you can’t hypnotize my guards. They all have charms around their necks.”

“I noticed.”

“You’re trapped for good.”

“All right.”

“I’m sure you’d love to meet the one who betrayed you.”

“I do.”

“Perfect. You will be in the same prison.”

Without further commentary, the henchmen threw Vampire Hero in a small cell. Another person was already there, curled up in a corner. They were not in a good state. Even the blood stains around them looked unappealing. The smell was bland, characteristic of a lack of nutriments.

“Can you talk ?” asked Vampire Hero after a moment.

“It’s all my fault”, whispered the other.

Vampire Hero scratched his head and looked around, a little embarrassed. His job was dealing with villains. He was good at that. He only had to hold back a little. Dealing with Not-Evil People was another matter altogether. He was making progress – he had pinned to his fridge the Geneva Convention to be sure not to forget it during his job, it seemed like a good starting point – but still, he wasn’t the best person to deal with this situation. He was vaguely aware that threats or mocking wouldn’t do much good, so he awkwardly shrugged, his hands in the pockets of his tattered jeans. The other hero ignored him. Their eyes were glued on the ground, the iris wide.

“I tried. I tried not to crack. But – they broke me. They really, really broke me. And I – if they told you I’ve betrayed you, it’s true. I’ve told them everything they wanted to know.”

“Well yeah. Torture is torture and you only have one body. Seems logical to me.”

“You don’t understand. They know who you are.”

“I’m in a cell, buddy. I understand fine.”

Hero burst in tears.

“I’m a failure. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You can – you can do whatever you want to me. I’ll understand.”

Once again, the vampire was at a loss. He knew of a hundred ways to make things worse and one of them was the silent treatment, but he didn’t want to do it. He’d read somewhere that physical contact could help, but Hero was covered with undressed wounds.

So he booped them on the nose.

“Chill. You look like you’ve been scorched alive and you can still lament about your situation. You’re fine. You’ve succeeded the most important thing. Crucial, really.”

“What ?”

“You’re still breathing. Keep doing that. I don’t have to, so I’ll get us out of here. All right ?”

“You’re not angry with me?”

“I don’t see why. ”

He crouched to examine the bars of the cell:

“And the sooner the better, I don’t want to be late for tonight.”

“What’s happening tonight ?”

Vampire Hero grinned from pointed teeth to pointed teeth, grabbing a bar that broke under the pressure of his fingers:

“ I am a creature of decadence and debauch. Every night, I have a meeting with a pure maiden, a cunning damsel, a fierce lady and a cruel temptress in my room.”

“All of them ? You must have a big bed.”

“All of them what ? I’m talking about my wife. I love my wife.”

“Oh, the evil one!”

Hero stopped themself, horrified by the words that just had come out from their mouth. You do not insult your colleague's spouse – especially if said colleague is currently ripping off metal bars from your own cell and is known for his dubious ethics. That is rude and unwise. The vampire stopped himself and glanced at them.

“I’m so sorry”, they squeaked. “I’ve been tortured and I’m confused and -”

Vampire Hero shrugged:

“No offense taken, mate. She was evil all right, and so was I. We were both a little cringe during our first centuries, like the youth say these days. To be fair, she was really sexy.”

“I’m - I’m sure of it.”

“And now she’s really sexy while dozing off while we watch TV. She’s really sexy when she drinks blood from a plastic bag. She’s really sexy all the time, really. Everything she does is delightful.”

He neglectfully threw a bar behind his back.

“Couldn’t you just destroy the lock ?” shyly asked Hero.

“No, I like doing it that way. It’s like bubble wrap.”

Vampire Hero joyfully kicked another bar that creaked and bent under his knee.

“You know what,” he said, “She’s feeling a little down because she can’t rip off heads as much as before. You should hear her complaining ! “I barely have strength to decapitate a human in a single stroke anymore !” and such. But what do I care ? She’d stay amazing even if she was too weak to pull the guts out of someone, but I keep telling her that and she still doesn’t believe it.”

“That’s really nice” assured Hero, whose smile was very strained. “I’m glad for you.”

The vampire stopped again – although maybe it was because half the bars had been taken off.

“Oh”, he said.

“What ? Have I said something wrong ? I’m sorry ! I didn’t -”

“No, it’s just – I don’t think a human has ever said that to me. I was... surprised.”

He held his hand out:

“Time to go. Thanks for the new experience, I guess.”

This time, Hero’s smile was a lot more genuine. They took the offered arm and painfully stood up:

“You’re very welcome.”

Vampire Hero is now a recurring character. His job is to troll current villains. Check the Vampire Hero Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with him.

You can meet his wife here.

Back to Hero x Villain Masterlist

#villain and hero #hero villain community #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original fiction #my writing #writing snippet #writing drabble #writing dialogue #creative writing #vampire #vampire hero #hero and villain #heroes and villains #hero x villain

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whumpsoda · 4 months

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if ur doing prompts may I request a pet whump where pets are so common that there’s been a serum invented to take away higher cognitive functions from whumpee’s and overload them in oxytocin. so while still them—they can’t understand how to read and miss many conversation cues. all they know is that they used to be scared, they’re treated nicely, and enjoy sitting by the fire

Inspiration finally struck, and I can’t say no to pet whump!! Taglist: @softvampirewhump

cw: mentions of vomit, pet whump, dehumanization, drug use, injection and needle

———————————————————————

The rugged man sighed, gazing down at the man defrosting at his feet. “Alright darlin’. It’s time for your medicine.” Whumper’s thick, gloved thumb glazed over his pet’s frosty cheek.

“Mmm…” the pet hummed, the words of his master practically flowing right over his head. Whumpee was far too enraptured in the sensation of the growing fire warming his chilled skin, as well as the plush feel of the blanket which engulfed him.

Whumpee couldn’t exactly recall how he’d gotten so cold in the first place, but wasn’t very concerned with it. He’d probably just gotten carried away outside again. He just got so excited when Master would let him out, even in such a brutal winter. All that mattered was how nice and comfortable he was now, anyway.

He snuggled eagerly into the stroke of affection on his face, a lazy smile resting on his lips.

Whumper was trying to pull away from his beloved book, an impossibly large one Whumpee had seen him engulfed in for days now. The pet was always shocked that Master was so smart, being able to get through such a thing, and even enjoying it.

Master flicked swiftly through the pages, the crinkle of paper mixing with the pop and crackle of the fire. The pleasant beat of heat on Whumpee’s skin was beyond enjoyable, and if he had a choice he would most definitely choose to be in such a state forever.

Reading, or trying to at the very least, was always a painful experience for Whumpee, a situation he was not a fan of. A pet wasn’t exactly fit for reading in the first place though, so it was never much of a problem he dwelled on.

Master’s fingers began to slip from his head, tempting to pull away. At the notice of Whumper’s touch beginning to waver, the pet desperately pushed his head back into the man’s hand.

He simply chuckled in response. “I need to get your meds, sweet. It’ll take just a moment ‘n I’ll be right back.”

Whumpee whimpered dejectedly, savoring the last of the contact before his master fully pulled away. He held back the urge to beg for more, instead opting to be grateful that Master had been kind enough to grant him such a gift in the first place.

Whumper pushed his tired limbs from his beloved leather chair next to the fire place, his thick socks shuffling on the floor as he walked past. The pet could faintly pick up the noise of his master bumbling around the kitchen, gradually becoming increasingly nervous with what was to come.

Whumpee didn’t like the injections, or the medicine itself. The injection hurt, and no matter how slight or insignificant, he did not like it. He especially wasn’t fond of the way the drugs made him feel, spinning his animal brain in circles and bringing bile up his throat.

But he couldn’t not have the medication. All pets took it, he knew that much. And if Master said he needed it, then there was no doubt he did! Even if no amount of good behavior could seemingly get him out of it.

Whumpee was snapped from his thoughts by the sudden sight of Whumper towering over him, sweetly ruffling his damp hair. The pet wished he could have enjoyed the affection more, as his stomach churned with growing discomfort.

He wriggled in his fuzzy fabric pile, becoming visibly upset as he listened to Whumper ready his tools. “Hush, boy, you’ll be fine. Same stuff as always.”

The words did close to nothing to calm his nerves, simply washing through one ear and rippling out the other. His struggles were only halted by the commanding grasp of his master’s glove on his chin.

Master was strong, strong enough to punish any slight disobedience in the blink of an eye. As much as Whumpee disliked it, he quieted his dismay.

“I know you hate it, but there’s no way around it. Your meds help you stay such a good boy. Don’t wanna turn naughty now, do you?” Master questioned.

Whumpee shook his head energetically, staring up with pleading eyes. Of course he didn’t want to be bad! He wouldn’t dream of it, Master had to know that!

As if the pet had answered aloud, the other man gave him a satisfactory smile. “Of course you wouldn’t. So be a good boy and stay still for Master, alright?”

Whumpee tried his very hardest to keep himself still and tense, only guided by the clutch on his chin. He fearfully clamped his eyes tight, sticking his lids together with all of his might.

Familiar sounds spread around him, ones he desperately tried to shut out in fear of making any mistakes that could irritate his master. “Doin’ so good, darlin’. Just one moment and we’ll be all done. Still for just one more second.”

Master’s soothing voice licked his delicate ears, almost distracting him from the sense of the needle descending to his pale flesh.

The prick of the edge puncturing his skin was almost instant, as well as scarily alarming. Practically against his own will Whumpee lurched forward, the nick seering in a jolt of pain. Whumper gripped his frame firmly in response, almost painfully so.

Whumpee squealed frightfully. Pet didn’t like it! He didn’t like it, he didn’t like it! Master always said it wasn’t a punishment, yet it always felt like it!

Whumper’s gloves dug into his exposed skin, only encouraging Whumpee to struggle more.

“Okay, okay, we’re done!” The grip restraining Whumpee disappeared in an instant, leaving the ghost of an angry touch.

His breaths continued, yet ragged and shaky. He noticed the creep of tears in his eyes, no matter how eager he was to prevent them. Whumper cleaned up his tools, gathering them to return to their rightful spot to ready them for the next time. “S’all over now, boy. We’re all done.” Master soothed, a slight tinge of annoyance prevalent.

A light flame of anger lit deep inside of the pet. It wasn’t over, not yet.

Whumpee jerked forward yet again, grabbing for the rug below him to contain himself. A wave of painful thickness was settling over him. His vision was quickly growing fuzzy and bleak, the room swaying around him. A warm, thick slurry rose, sliding up his throat and lingering just there. He tried to regain himself, an act that quickly became futile as his strength lessened. The pet’s limbs shook, weakened and afraid.

With glossy eyes and sickly sight he searched for his master, who was sitting comfortably in his chair once again. Whumpee could only make out a pleased smile on the man’s face as the pet clung to his pant leg.

Whumpee gagged fearfully, the sick sense tainting his throat. His brain was swimming, cotton and clouds making their way inside. His thoughts were becoming gummy, slowing and allowing himself to calm. Coherency was hard to reach, and he soon gave up on the task. As long as Master was around, he’d be fine.

Whumper put a hand to his pet’s swaying head, guiding the man against his own leg. Whumpee’s sluggish muscles were thankful for the help, surrendering to Master’s whims.

With his thoughts so hard to reach, his limbs so tired, and the pain subsiding, Whumpee was gradually calming, melting into his master. Hearing was fuzzy, as well as most things at the moment, but he could mostly make out Whumper’s purr of words.

“Relax now, darlin’. It’ll be fine in a bit. Gotta keep you all nice and good, right? Be a good boy and take a little nap while you’re all out’ve it.” Whumpee cuddled further into the man, desperate to follow him. His blanket was soon placed softly back on his shoulders, as his drool drowsily trickled onto crusty denim fabric.

Whumpee was losing consciousness, a pull he was fully willing to give in to. Master said he should, and so he would, simple as that. As long as he could be a good pet when he woke up, the hurt would all be worth it.

#asks :)#my writing #whump #whumpblr #pet whump #whump writing #drug whump #dehumanisation tw #pet whumpee #writing drabble

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sculptorofcrimson · 7 days

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Yandere! Valdor

Valdor, the most loyal, the greatest of the Custodes, a Primarch in all but name. Who else can obsess more than him, whose every function besides loyalty was beaten out? A/N: Playing “fucked up obsessive twinks” on easy mode here, aren’t I? I’m sorry, SCP-XXXX who requested this, but you told me Valdor was a twink, and evil twinks are the best kind of men, so therefore this is your fault! Full throttle ahead, let us be damned together! ψ(｀∇´)ψ

Relationships: Valdor/Gn!Reader, mentioned Valdor/Emperor Mentions: @kit-williams would you like some food?

Valdor does not love.

The Custodes simply can not love. Their love perished beneath treachery and fire, ten thousand years ago, and they simply cannot piece the remnants that was a heart back together again.

The Emperor took away their ability to love any but Himself, and what else could be left but a hollow void, an immortality without substances, a heart that beats while it lacks its other half?

There was simply nothing left of him to spare when the Emperor had brought down his claws. His love, his joy, his dreams, all gone, wiped away like sand upon the sea. Leaving behind nothing more than a hollow without sustenance, a phantom vestige of a dream crushed long ago, its corpse entombed within perfected flesh and bone and blood.

He loves no one, not even himself. When the Emperor died ten thousand years ago, he lost his way. He lost his tether to life itself. And for ten thousand years he wandered for the corpse of his master. There was a poem once, a poem so long ago about the loyal dog that stood guard before his master’s bones, who licked the once-petting hand once, and laid down to die.

Valdor’s loyalty is no weaker than that dog’s.

He loves no one, not even himself. But he loves the Emperor. He loves Him, so brokenly, so obsessively, so utterly insane in his adoration, the First Custodian would have let Him tear him apart if He wished.

He loved the Emperor.

And that is why he loves you. He thinks you to be his Emperor. If not Him, then at least a shard.

He doesn’t care who you were, he doesn’t care whether you were once a captain, a Chapter Master, a Thunder Warrior even. He thinks you to be his master, back from the dead, one of His shards caught in life and flesh.

He thinks you’re Him. Or, if not Him, at least a fragment of His former glory.

Valdor calls you his Emperor, his shard, his beloved, he ignores any name you had once in favor of calling you his master. A name is only a word, after all, and you are nothing but his Emperor reborn, in his mind. A guardsman, an Astarte, a Thunder Warrior, you are all mortal beneath his eyes. He only smiles that cold, humorless smile of his when you attempt to correct him, when he brushes off your words with the same cold, humorless disinterest.

Valdor thinks you to be his Emperor. And he doesn't care that you were once someone else, you were not always his beloved, you were not the master he imagined, that you are not the master he built from memories and bones.

You were nothing before his master, he reasons, you will be nothing after his master, and you were his Emperor once upon a time. It is doubtful if he can even know love, if he had not projected his own delusions of his Emperor upon another. Valdor failed Him once and only now the fates have judged him fit enough to protect a shard of Him, one that is so frail compared to himself, so unspeakably mortal, his atonement for the master he failed so long ago.

He failed the Emperor once, and watched Him die. He will not do so again.

Protection. You will never walk free again, never without his cold presence by your side, that effortless, confident stride as he accompanies his master. You will never know the taste of sunlight, the easy voice of another conversationalist before their words taper off into uncertainty, and then fear, beneath the jealous glare of your bodyguard. How their sentences trail off, how Valdor looms like some ancient, murderous harpy, his shadow constantly overcasting yours.

He knows nothing of love, of human emotion. But he knows protection. And he knows obsession.

Valdor is not a passionate man. But he is neither a cruel one either. Of course, Valdor will never raise a spear nor blade against his adoration, to strike his master would certainly mean death, but he will slaughter your loved ones without even horror. He will whisper litanies of loyalty on his knees while his Custodes sink in the knives. He will speak ironclad promises and gilded oaths when they label your soldiers traitors and slaughter them upon the snowfields, when they hail for unity, and hear the blade fall.

He seems to like walks in wintery fields. It reminds him of what he lost long ago, when the Emperor took him atop Ararat, and he enacted His first vengeance upon the Thunder Warriors. He sometimes brings you there, to altitudes higher than even what a Space Marine can withstand, and gathers you beneath his cloak, whispering memories that were never truly yours, asking for your orders, asking for your forgiveness, asking if you can remember what it felt like ten thousand years ago.

(Sometimes, you can nearly believe him when he says you’re a shard. It’s flattering, almost, to be under the eye of the captain-general.)

He can kill. There is nothing left of him if he could not. Nothing but the Emperor’s spear, a sharpened tool meant to kill and to serve, and to be cast away when its function is complete. You have nothing to fear from him, of course, he would rather end himself than raise a blade against his master. But he loves no other. He does not know how to love. And that makes him dangerous. You know it when you gaze into his eyes, you are sure you could imagine him covered in the blood of your loved ones, guardian spear flashing as he hacks through them without even the shadow of hesitation. He will take no fear, no regret, no relief, barely even satisfaction in the grim act, and yet that is somehow more profane than joy in slaughter. Not even a single hint of joy, wild and unfettered in the sheer cruelty, not even a single hint of an ambition for why he would lay such altars of blood before his master’s feet, only simply because He wanted it to be so, and simply because he loved Him.

In his eyes, you are his Emperor. But he does not always obey you. He does not kneel as he would’ve knelt before his master. Because he knows, Valdor knows that to protect Him, to serve Him properly, sometimes he must smother Him for His own good. It’s the twisted rationale of a dog who has lost his master, whose death had rocked him so thoroughly he was willing to kill to save Him again.

Valdor kneels, of course. He’ll kneel before you and speak his words of loyalty, he’ll give you his names one by one if you only ask. Valdor has never considered himself eloquent with words, but he’ll listen to you, he’ll even let you command him as the Emperor would have done. Rank be damned, he cares not if his Emperor had been reborn as a guardsman or an Astartes or even a Thunder Warrior.

But he does not hide his obsession. To obsess is the only way he knows to love, after all. He’ll smother his beloved with his protection, with his adoration. He’ll hack his way to be their only protector, their only bulwark before the madness, the only man they can trust to defend them. Gaze upon his Emperor once, he’ll tear them apart. Love the Emperor more than him, and he’ll bury their bones beneath the snowfields.

And be loved by the Emperor more than him….and he’ll betray them as he had betrayed the Thunder Warriors. He’ll sink in golden knives and golden spears in turned backs without even the hint of remorse, Valdor will remind his beloved that it is he who is the servant, it is he who serves to be praised for his duty. Valdor can take you from your family as the Emperor took him from his, he’ll so effortlessly ensure the utter protection of his new Emperor, all for himself.

No one will protect you more than I, my liege.

It is he who should be the favored servant.

No one can love you more than I, my Emperor.

He’ll croon those litanies of loyalty to you. He’ll whisper those promises of protection, of ambition, he’ll promise you an eternity while standing atop the frozen ashes of your loved ones. He’ll promise you a throne if you don’t cry, if you’ll love him as his master did. He’ll bring you a crown of gold, he’ll strangle the living storm for you, if only you promise to let him protect you, if you promise if you’ll be his Emperor.

You died once. I will not let you do so again, my Emperor.

And his obsession would never be checked, and much less ended by the true power behind the Imperium.

You are his Emperor. In that mind He broke so thoroughly long ago, you are the Emperor, reborn. Heavy is the head that bears the laurel, bloodied is the hand that holds this mad dog’s leash.

It is Valdor who should be the favored servant.

No one will protect you more than I, my liege.

He will protect you.

He will protect you, obsess over you, guard you with the hollow that is a heart. He’ll bring you a throne, a crown, an army, an eternity, if only you promise, if only you’ll be his Emperor.

The Emperor died ten thousand years ago. And in turn, he casted you in His corpse.

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lazorbeanz · 9 days

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Late Night

Unbreakable Bond

Headcanons #3

🧡 During the times when he’s not busy or on missions, Tails has volunteered to help other kids in his area with their homework, especially maths. (one could say he’s a tutor lol) and they all love him (they’ve given him the name ‘the Fun Enstein,’ though Tails wonders if Sonic has been whispering in their ears), because he somehow manages to turn boring, stressful homework, with all its mountain load of impossible tasks, into a fun investigation, as he eagerly dives into the problem with them, breaking it up and solving it piece by piece until they can put those pieces together and get a complete answer. But it’s not just his teaching methods as to why they love him so much, but how he presents the task in front of them. He makes it not just a question on a page anymore, but rather an important mission, a thrilling adventure in their minds. He displays it to them in a way that will not only get their thinking caps on, but also make them just as excited to solve them, as tough as it may appear, because Tails wants them to know that every problem must and always has a solution…and that learning can be fun if you make it! The energy and enthusiasm he has radiates onto those while teaching, his giddiness and excitement over what they’re tryna solve spreads to them, realising that it can be fun, because he makes it look fun and easy and possible. He doesn’t push them or expect them to know right off the bat, if they have questions, he stops and listens, and will get them to use their “thinking caps,” providing small hints or information he gives out to see if they can solve it themselves. If they’re stuck or confused on something, he will go through it over and over, simplifying and carefully explaining it until they understand (he’s already used to doing that with a certain blue hedgehog)

Sometimes he will get so caught up in their work, he ends up doing a problem or 2 all by himself. He can’t help it though, it’s just out of instinct.

Many parents have come to Tails with questions as to why or how he is so good at what he does.

“When you love something with a burning passion…something that brings you so much joy, you will naturally have the ability to teach others, because you will end up finding joy in teaching them, and might just so happens to spread that joy to those you teach.” He replies

Because to him, this is his passion..this is the thing that brought him that joy. This was something that once brought him nothing but a series of bullying and mockery from his peers, now brings him a series of praise and compliments from those around him. This is the something that he can share to help others, whether it be to save the world, or to save a kid from failing their math class.

Whenever Tails thinks back on when people would bully him with names such as “Mr. know-It-All,” he shrugs…they were right, because being a genius means you know it ALL. And if there’s one thing he knows…

Is that he loves being a STEM nerd :)

💙 Sonic, for the life of him, cannot stay still for too long, and that makes sense..i mean he’s the fastest thing alive for crying out loud…he doesn’t stop moving. Even if it’s just a leg rapidly bobbing up and down, or finger tapping on a surface, or…the fidgeting…oh the dreaded fidgeting!!

And Tails completely understands his reasons for this behaviour…he knows his brother almost, if not, better than he knows himself sometimes, but BOY does it really begin to grind his gears when he begins to subconsciously start fiddling with something of Tails’ when he’s in the lab with him, or if they were eating out, he would pick up the cutlery and twirl it around in his fingers. Even if he has no item to hold Into, he will start tugging at the ends of his gloves. It’s like he has to hold or touch something…anything he can get his hands on.

Tails can’t complain too much though, as he also tends to do the same thing, but it’s almost as if Sonic’s is twice as annoying because it’s twice as frequent to happen. He’s even bought him an unruly amount of fidget spinners, all for them to have their fair share of tasting plaster, due to Sonic spinning them so fast, they’d spin right out his fingers, and straight through a wall.

So after multiple repairs and half tempted to remove the entire wall, he scratched that idea, leaving him sitting at his desk, finger tapping the surface in deep thought…finger tapping..oh no how he was doing it too! But that’s when he got the lightbulb, and began to use all that tapping energy in his fingers into rapidly typing on his keyboard.

Tails walks into Sonic’s bedroom, where he was sitting on his bed and to no surprise, fidgeting. He plonks down beside him, and hands him a tablet.

“I think you’ll enjoy it.” Was all he said, before getting up and making his exit.

Sonic stared at the tablet perplexed for a short moment before picking it up and looking at the screen, all he saw was a square button that said Start. He tapped it, and before he knew it, music began to play and multiple squares were appearing on the screen increasingly fast, but he managed to hit them before it was too late..if that was the game, he thought.

What was this Tails had just bestowed upon him? Soon enough he began to fall into the swing of things, hitting and swiping the split second a square would appear. He even changed the difficulty because it was too easy. This game…was just so…satisfying. His fingers have never felt so relieved. Even the music was catchy too. So he sat there for the rest of the day tapping away to the beat.

Tails was humming away as he tinkered about on his latest project. He then shot a side-eye to see his older brother, standing by his desk with the tablet he’d given him earlier. He looked up to face him, and when he did Sonic tossed the tablet at him. Looking down at it, Tails noticed there was a finger sized crack in the screen. He looked up at the hedgehog wide eyed. “How did you-”

“Fix it.” Sonic said, turned around and left.

Well I guess he enjoyed it then…

s/o to @mbrine for the inspo of these 2 hcs ☝️

🧡 Tails used to earn pocket money from Sonic for the little things he’d achieve when tagging along on his adventures, or if he was being a good boy and sonic decided to treat him.

Now, it’s Sonic earning pocket money from Tails…

Tails (mildy unenthusiastic): congratulations Sonic, you managed to put your laundry in the machine…here’s $1.50

💙 Sonic is fairly good at Tap and Irish dancing *cough cough happy feet sonic edition HACCK-*

🧡 Sonic takes pictures of funny or weird things and makes memes out of them to send to Tails

💙 Sonic and Tails are stargazing and Sonic points out a star.

“That’s a bright one.”

“That’s Sirius, also known as the Dog Star. It’s the brightest star in our night sky. Its name literally means “glowing” in Greek. Sirius has a high luminosity in comparison to other stars, and has a mass twice of that which the sun has. In fact, if you were to place Sirius next to the Sun, it would outshine the sun more than 20 times over…”

Hold up- HOW DOES HE KNOW THE STAR EXACTLY…NAME N EVERYTHING?

Sonic doesn’t even bother to fact check him as he’s probably right. All he’s thinking about now is whether his little brother has an IQ of 300 or 3000…

🧡 Sonic and Tails have a special handshake, and I mean a gumball and Darwin kinda handshake lmao

#okay I’m leaving it at that my brain has shut off #might come back to edit this tmr with more hcs if I’m bothered #shoulda been working on this today instead of reading sonamy fanfics but I have no regrets lol #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #sonic #sth #unbreakable bond #tails the fox #sonic headcanons #unbreakable bond headcanons #wstw #wsatw #wholesome sonic and tails wednesday #writing drabble

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generic-whumperz · 5 months

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It wasn’t professionally written and expertly edited novels that really inspired me to start writing, it was reading others’ work on here.

You may think that your writing isn’t “good enough,” or “significant enough” to encourage attainable action among your fellow writers, but I assure you, it is.

#I may sound dramatic but I’m being so forreal right now #thank you everyone for posting your writings on here #shoutout to whump for being the conduit in which all things flow through #writing drabble #whump writing

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ahfrickenfrick · 18 days

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tim grew up being shoved into a box, and being a people pleaser

so he will genuinely sit and be uncomfortable if he thinks it’s what’s supposed to happen

and no one ever really notices, as this was how he’s always been, until dick takes tim to batburger and they get milkshakes

—-

Tim frowns at the cup, full of a freshly made milkshake, whipped cream, and a cherry. The teen takes the cherry and gingerly eats it, clearly making a face of disgust.

“You know you don’t have to eat that if you don’t want to.” Dick says with a sideways grin. Tim cocked his head.

“No? But wouldn’t it be a waste? You just spent money and took me out after a rough night. And I know you used your own cash and not B’s. I can’t waste this.”

The older vigilante let his smile drop into a small frown, looking out to the skyline. “I know, but a little waste won’t hurt. Especially if it’s bringing you discomfort. Tossing a cherry isn’t going to hurt my feelings or my wallet. You deserve a space to feel safe and comfortable to have an opinion and a say, even over something as minuscule as a cherry.”

Tim frowned and took a sip of his milkshake. “I’ll…. I’ll keep that in mind.”

———

It takes a lot to break Tim out of the cycle of everyone else’s comfort. Soon he’s picking at his food and not forcing everything down.

He’s putting in his opinion for movie nights, and suggesting recipes to Alfred.

Tim’s also now giving his input to Bruce, and taking initiative on patrol and cases, even solving a few old cases the dark knight couldn’t crack.

He’s grown a lot, shoving and pushing at the sides of the box that was hand crafted around him until it collapses.

#he is neurodivergent #CLOCKED #but also this is based off my distaste for those jarred cherries #tim drake #dick grayson #dc comics #batman #dc #batfamily #red robin #nightwing #fic #writing drabble #fanfiction #dc universe #tim drake is trying #mini fic #dc fic

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urfriendlywriter · 1 year

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25 hot traits for your character :

(feel free to use <3 yall gotta agree with me on the 10th, 11th, 12th and from 17th to 21st cus :) tag me yall )

they hold eye contact whenever you talk

they love when you wear their clothes. [hehe]

they get physically clingy whenever they're jealous [ holy god]

always pulls you into a random embrace.

they manspread alot with a sultry gaze >> [imagine that gaze and that fucking smirk]

likes to tease you a lott

or easily blushes when you teach them ♡

holding gazes while kissing your body [highway looks mad comfyy rn]

"look at me when I'm making you feel good, baby" *coughing violently*

vocally expressive, isn't afraid of moaning loud > <

loves keeping you close to them

"if you ask me to fucking kneel, then I would, my love."

clicking their tongue against their cheek when they're mad or jealous !!!!!

kissable lips. sultry gaze, seductive smirk. [weak in em knees fr]

"say that again, mi sol."

loves to showcase you.

always has the top button of their shirt open [banging my head aaaaa]

slightly biting their lower lip when they smile

rolls their tongue over their lips often

sexy fingers !!!!

baby face, raspy and deep voice > \\ <

knows the effects of their actions over you [ do yk my last name?? its *yours* ;) ]

smells good 24/7

multilingual. (now tell me yall dont find multilingual people hot af-)

skilled. an all-rounder irl. smart and skilled, can easily save the world singlehandedly fr

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devoted-rotting · 2 months

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She dropped him to the ground, her heels clicking against the floor as he slumped over against the wall. The glow of the purple chains faded away, leaving him gasping, weak from the loss.

“Remind me again what you’re going to do, Alastor.” Her voice called, echoing with a musical ring into the hallway.

“I’m…” he paused, gritting his teeth as he wheezed. “I’m going to destroy this hotel if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

Her laugh rang out, rich and melodious in reply. “That’s a good boy, Alastor. I’m sure your mama would have been so proud.”

Dials clouded Alastor’s vision as his horns grew, bleating and bugled cries as he grabbed at his throat, desperate to rip away the chains and as her laughter echoed through the hallway, dissolving into smoke.

#sorry guys I’ve been thinking #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel lilith #lilith hazbin hotel #Lilith #Hazbin Lilith #writing drabble

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ask-the-prose · 11 months

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Dabbling in Drabbles

This week I want to discuss drabbles! This guide was prompted by a friend in my Writer's Block discord server.

What is a drabble?

A drabble is a short-form story characterized by its word count of EXACTLY 100 words. Not 99. Not 101. 100.

Drabbles are just like other short stories, with characters, a plot, and a setting. Drabbles are an excellent test of precision and brevity. The goal is to tell a complete story in 100 words, which is no easy feat.

Where do I even start?

Like any story of any length, a drabble requires characters, a setting, and a plot. Begin where it best suits you. A character or two makes an excellent starting point. Who stars in your drabble, and what do they do? What do they want, and will they get it?

You might consider the setting of your drabble. Is there conflict or stakes that come easily to that setting? How does your character interact with their surroundings?

How am I supposed to fit a plot in 100 words?

Writing drabbles is a lesson in editing. Try writing out your drabble first. Go back and edit. What is absolutely necessary to the story? How can you reword sentences to reach that exact goal of 100 words? In this situation, “kill your darlings” may help.

Kill your darlings doesn’t necessarily mean killing off the character or getting rid of everything you like. It means you are taking out what doesn’t serve the story. Whether you like the cut bits or not doesn’t matter. It’s about what best suits the story. With drabbles, you must be especially vicious in your editing.

Conclusion

Did you know the last section is exactly 100 words? It’s not very long, is it? Drabbles are quite challenging, but they are incredibly interesting to read and so much fun to write. Edit mercilessly, my friends!

– Indy

#writing advice #writing tips #writing resources #writeblr #amwriting #writblr #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #writing help #writing guide #drabble #drabbles #writing drabble #writing drabbles

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glenechoslasher · 23 days

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"Savior" ||

Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader

Rating: None

Length: 2.1k

Asked by: @photo1030

Ooo! Random thought, maybe can link to my last request. Reader (or character, your choice) gets hurt and Arthur has to take care of them. Maybe shot in the leg and he has to carry them. They get to see a softer side to him, being all caretaker and protective.

Protective Arthur is just... *chef's kiss* I can't explain it but seeing him so good with a gun, being able to down someone within seconds then to turn around and be so gentle with you?? I need it, crave it, even. Thanks for the ask, hon!~

It was supposed to be a simple bank coach robbery, just a quick in-and-out sort of situation, and you insisted that you go along to assist Mary-Beth and Sean, but with Arthur being as worried as he always was, he felt it was best to tag along and make sure Sean didn’t pull you into any other mischief. The Irishman, of course, took offense to that, but he didn’t exactly mind that you two wanted to tag along. The more the merrier, even if the cut of the pay was less.

As much as Arthur tried to insist you remain back, you were headstrong and refused to let him tell you what you were capable of. You’d had a successful string of heists you were able to pull off with the other gang members, so why would this one be any different? Without much argument afterward, you rode off on your horse behind Sean and Mary-Beth, and a disgruntled Arthur followed you all from the rear.

It was difficult to put into words how this made Arthur feel, but he knew that going along to assist would have eased his discomfort, and hearing Sean’s plan to distract the coach was more than entertainment in itself. But with Sean being inept with firearms, Arthur had ridden alongside your horse to listen in on the plan.

Mary-Beth was more than excited to get out of the camp and put her talent to good use, and even more so when you had offered to tag along if they wouldn’t mind. “Oh, this is excitin’!” She exclaimed with a large smile on her face. “Easy enough to flag ‘em down, I think.”

Sean was proud of his idea and felt that he should have had more credit, but Arthur, being who he was, was unsure and unimpressed with Sean’s usefulness when it came to stressful situations.

“I’m just keepin’ an eye on you, MacGuire, I know they’re solid,” he stated matter-of-factly as his horse trotted along to the speed of Ennis.

“Alright, alright, you get knocked out on a mission one time-”

“More than once,” Arthur corrected.

The Irishman just scoffed and shook his head. “Look, you can write about it in your journals, but let’s get back to my job, the one I brought y’all in on!” He huffed.

You couldn’t help but laugh at how much those two men were always at each other’s throats, no matter what the other was doing. “Let’s focus, gentleman, the lady and I will have this done lickety-split, it’ll be a cakewalk.” You looked over at Arthur with confidence shining in your eyes, and you thought you caught a glimpse of a smile from across his face, but it was gone before you could blink.

Sean led the way until they came to a crossroads, then he told you all to keep the horses out of sight as he scoped out where they could hide for the time being. “Alright then, here we are, they’ll be comin’ from the North any minute, you both know what you’re doin’, right?”

Arthur just scoffed and shook his head. “Course they know what they’re doin’,” he replied gruffly.

You jumped down from your horse and patted its muzzle gently. “Mary-Beth is gonna run out and flag ‘em down, I’ll be off a ways to scope out the guards, and you two will be behind the log. Sean will ring off some shots, and Arthur will come in and clean up while I pick ‘em off from behind. Easy.”

Sean looked satisfied with that response and nodded. “Alright, perfect! Now, Morgan, let’s go and get behind this log, you-” he pointed in your direction, “-get over to those trees and don’t be spotted. Mary-Beth, get ready.”

The redhead felt proud of this plan, he was sure everything would work out, and he had the details down to a T. Everything went fine until it didn’t.

Instead of spooking the guards to throw them off, Sean took aim after hearing the way one of the men spoke to Mary-Beth and scoped him from his spot behind the log. Arthur immediately began to fire, albeit reluctantly since Sean was deviating from the initial plan. He hadn’t caught sight of you yet, but he figured you were doing alright for yourself. Then suddenly, a man lunged for Mary-Beth and held a gun to her head, his arm clenched around her throat.

“Let GO of me!” She snapped, trying her best to claw at his arm.

“Got your little lady friend here! Drop your guns!”

Arthur removed his rolling block rifle and watched the man hide himself behind the woman through the scope. “Dammit, he keeps movin’, don’t got a clear shot.”

“I got it!” You suddenly yelled out, and before you had a chance to line up the shot, the man had heard you and took aim. The shot rang out and the bullet penetrated your upper thigh.

Your scream echoed out and Arthur finally had a clear shot to take the man down for good. “Sean, get Mary-Beth! I got them!” He said as he threw the gun over his shoulder and took off running where you’d fallen to the ground. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbled to himself as he finally caught up to you.

You were trying your best to hold onto your leg the best you could to apply pressure, but it didn’t help much, you couldn’t stifle the scream you released when it hurt a little too much. “Shit, guess I messed that up badly…”

“Nah, you didn’t, lemme see,” Arthur said as he moved your hands, checking out where the wound was. “Ah, right through the meat of the leg but just missed your femoral artery. You’ll be alright, just gotta treat it when we get to camp. C’mon, it ain’t gonna feel pretty.”

Arthur grabbed his bandana and tied it around your leg the best he could to keep pressure, then he scooped you into his arms and carried you back to his horse.

Sean and Mary-Beth had cleaned out the coach and the dead men’s pockets as he took care of you, but Mary-Beth felt awful. “Are they gonna be alright?” She asked, her tone laced with worry.

He just nodded and helped you as carefully as he could onto his horse, but the discomfort was a lot, yet you remained as strong as you could and held onto the horn of the saddle. “Call my horse, please…” You whimpered. “Can’t leave ‘em here…”

“You worry ‘bout yourself, your horse’ll be fine,” the gunslinger assured you as he hopped on behind you. “It’s gonna hurt with the ride but the faster we get back the better. Y’all go on, we’ll split the money when we meet back, don’t let anyone follow you.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Sean said with a meek smile, feeling awful you’d been hurt. “Take care of ‘em, will ya?”

Arthur nodded in response, whistled for your horse to follow, and rode off as quickly as he could. The ride was definitely painful, but you managed to hold out long enough until you got back to camp, where Arthur had taken you to your tent, which thankfully had some privacy. He left you alone for all of two minutes when he came back with all the necessities he needed to fix you up proper.

You lay there on your cot, and as you tried to look up at him to speak, all you could do was groan in pain until he placed his hand gently on the back of your neck, having you sit up slightly. “Here, take a shot of whiskey, it’ll help a bit. I gotta dig the bullet out and cauterize the wound.”

After hearing all that and swallowing the burning liquid, your consciousness was in and out, very hazy, until you saw black and just heard the sound of Arthur’s voice.

Hours later, you awoke with a dry hoarseness in your throat, your eyes blinked rapidly to adjust to the low lamplight that had been inside your tent, and you looked up to see Arthur beside your cot. He already reached for the deerskin and placed it to your lips. You drank greedily at the water until you felt satisfied enough to pull away, coughing from the coldness.

“There you are,” Arthur greeted softly, removing the deerskin from your grasp. “You’re gonna be fine, just gotta stay off the leg for a while,” he commented. “You feelin’ alright?” He leaned over and dunked a cloth into a bucket of water, then wring it out, and placed it gently over your forehead.

You looked over at him and smiled softly. “Didn’t know you were so caring,” you joked softly, chuckling to yourself.

Arthur waved his hand dismissively and scoffed. “Had my fair share of bullets is all, makin’ sure you don’t pull a stunt like that again, you hear?”

You nodded and a small smile crept across your face, you couldn’t help but stare up at him and admire the man. He acted as if he didn’t care much about others, that he wasn’t any better than a stone-cold killer, but here he was worrying about you and taking care of you. Usually, it was left up to one of the women who were more well-versed in bedside manner, like Miss Grimshaw, but Arthur had insisted on your behalf. Naturally, he didn’t tell you this, it was Mary-Beth who informed you when she came in to visit while Arthur had gone to refill the bucket and grab some more medical supplies from Strauss’s wagon.

“Oh it’s been real sweet, he ain’t left unless he needed to get somethin’ for you,” Mary-Beth beamed. “Almost like somethin’ straight out of one of my books, he’s been real particular, too.”

“Of what?” You questioned.

“He hasn’t let anyone other than me and Tilly into your tent, even was on edge when Charles offered to help.”

This information made your cheeks feel warm, he was practically babying you back to health, you’d never seen this side of him before. “Wow, I would have never expected Arthur Morgan to be at my bed-side,” you teased as you looked up at the young woman.

She nodded, still all smiles. “Well, I hear him comin’ so that’s my cue, better leave you to it or else he’ll kick me out,” she joked and stood up from the chair. “You feel better, and holler if you need anythin’ from us.”

“Thanks, Mary-Beth.”

She nodded her head and left the tent, then was quickly replaced by Arthur, who set the bucket down beside his chair and had a bowl of stew in the other hand. “You think you can eat yet?”

You hummed in response and wet your dry lips with your tongue. “I can try if it’ll make you feel better.”

“It would, now here,” he offered as he slowly placed his hand beneath your shoulders, giving you a little push to help you sit up.

“Heard you’ve been fussin’ over me since we got back, that true?”

Arthur sighed, knowing damn well Mary-Beth was going to say something to you at some point. “It ain’t a big deal, no big drama,” he waved it off. “Just makin’ sure you’re gonna be okay, which you are, by the way.” He held the bowl until you were ready to take it and try to feed yourself, but still leaned forward in case he needed to grab it from you. “Just rest up and you’ll be right as rain soon enough.” You grabbed the bowl and smiled over at Arthur, the adoration in your eyes quite apparent. “Arthur… thank you, I know you’re gonna think it’s no big deal, but it is to me. Couldn’t have made it without you,” you remarked. “I owe you-”

“You don’t owe me nothin’, well, except maybe one thing.”

Your head perked up and you offered him a smile. “Anything.”

With that, his mouth curled into a wide smile, thoughts running through his head as if he could have said so many things, but those thoughts would be shared later. For now, he figured he should settle on the obvious. “Promise me next time you ain’t gonna go runnin’ with MacGuire, you need a job done, you ask me.” He sat back in the chair and offered a lopsided grin.

Thankfully you didn’t bring the spoon up to your mouth; you’d laughed and almost dropped the bowl. “Sure thing, Arthur, anything for you.” Your eyes locked with his and you couldn’t help but feel like you owed him more than that, but for now, you owed him to get better and listen for once. You’d show him how grateful you were when you could use your leg again.

“Hey, Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks again,” you said softly.

The man just chuckled and lit up a cigarette after getting your permission. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

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