#karthur

[lockaccle]

swap au arkayne 🤤🤤🤤

Hear me out.

[devilishloser]

Arthur and Kurt are one and the same

[maiji]

[image 1: digital ink-brush style illustration of Rean and Alisa from Trails of Cold Steel. Rean is wearing a blue plaid scarf, winter coat and gloves; Alisa is wearing earmuffs, a fluffy muffler, and mittens. Their noses and cheeks are pink from the cold, and their hands are forming two halves of a heart together. Around them are lacy frost patterns, as if we're seeing them through or reflected against ice or glass, with a pair of snow bunnies etched just below their hands. The surrounding border text reads: "Wishing you warmth & coziness" with sparkles and a heart.

image 2: very rough scribbly sketch of the above]

Before 2022 is out (well, in this part of the world anyways) - here’s a commission I did this year for @welkikitty, a very lovely and sweet person who is also an amazing profilic ficwriter! She does this wonderful project where you can sign up to get fandom holiday cards, and I used to draw one of them every year. It was a delightful tradition for both of us. I had to stop a few years ago due to too many work and art projects/commitments... but this year I was so happy to be able to do it again. Thank you so much Karthur for this opportunity to draw Rean Schwarzer and Alisa Reinford from Trails of Cold Steel - coming up with this idea based on the inspirations, and drawing all the lacy frost patterns, was super fun!

I’m currently still open for commissions! More info here.

[mega-gh0st]

hello dbh fandom i have a hot take (all these ships are valid btw no hate, this is just my experience with them lol)

[faolanorionsstuff]

My RDR2 ships ✨

Vandermathews (Dutch + hosea)

Vandermorgan (Dutch + Arthur)

Morston (John + Arthur)

Karthur (kieran + Arthur)

Charthur (Charles + Arthur)

jovier (javier + John)

[hello-imasalesman]

arthur and kieran in a boat out on the lake. and they rock the fuck outta it.

yeeaaaah boooooy!!! short n sweet PWP, 1k words exact 

“I ain’t good at fishing.” On the opposite side of the rowboat, Arthur’s under-his-breath grumbles are just heard above the water lapping at the hull.

“I know.”

“... I hate fishing.”

Kieran side-eyes Arthur, still slowly reeling in his line. “I know.”

“There’s plenty of things we could be doing instead.” Arthur grouses above the click of Kieran’s spool. Arthur’s irritation is more than apparent with the force he’s using flicking the rod across the water, too hard to attract any fish. Flat Iron lake is beautifully placid early morning, with the sun having just only recently risen east. 

“Fishing ain’t that bad, Arthur.” Kieran says softly. “You’d enjoy it more if you tried.”

“Haven’t caught a thing.” Arthur stretches out his leg, nudging the bucket sitting on the boat floor with the toe of his boot. It’s starting to fill with fish, small-mouth bass, though nearly all of them are Kieran’s catches.

Kieran ignores Arthur. He can hear Arthur folding his fishing rod back up, but he pays him no mind. He can do as he pleases, but they promised Pearson at least one buckets worth of fish for the camp stew pot. The boat rocks as Arthur shifts from one side to the other. Kieran spreads his legs to ground himself, digging his heels against the bottom of the boat. “Aw, c’mon, now. Don’t tip us over just ‘cause you don’t want to fish.”

“Not tipping the boat.” Arthur grunts, suddenly close to his ear. Kieran feels himself jump, his startled yelp coming out strangled as the boat pitches sharply to the side, dips enough that some water splashes up and over the side.

“Coulda fooled me!” Kieran warbles, arms outstretched as the rocking slowly evens out. “You know I can’t swim well.”

“Hm.” Arthur hums. His breath plays hot against the shell of Kieran’s ear as he wraps his arms around him from behind. “Well, you’ll keep still then, won’t you?”

“Arthur—“ Kieran sucks in a sharp breath, shivering as Arthur settles his chin onto Kieran’s shoulder, pressing cheek to cheek, knocking his hat akimbo on his head. He’s white-knuckling the grip on his fishing rod, trying not to jerk it too erratically. “Arthur, you’re going to scare away the fish.”

“Damn shame.” Arthur mumbles. Kieran finds himself not minding half as much as he should, not when he can look down and see Arthur’s thick fingers skating down his chest. He worms his hands underneath his shirt, gun-calloused fingertips brushing against the softness of his belly, tugging teasingly at the dusting of hair there.

“I’m serious.” Kieran says it with little conviction, especially as Arthur drapes himself around Kieran fully. The boat leans in warning. Arthur’s fingertips try to find their way past the hem of Kieran’s pants, but his belt is in his way. He makes short work of that, tossing it away to land wetly on the floor of the boat. The fishing rod in Kieran’s hands is dipping as his hands go slack; it’s awful hard to concentrate as Arthur thumbs the clips of his suspenders off his slacks, lets his pants sag. He’s already half-hard, embarrassingly enough, and Arthur doesn’t hesitate to pull him out of his pants, spit into his palm before he wraps his hand around his cock.

“Alright—“ Kieran nearly drops the rod into the lake. “Arthur, we’re out— anyone could see us—”

That doesn’t slow Arthur’s strokes. That’s how it usually was in-between them, stolen moments in semi-public situations; he can’t stop thinking of the last time they fished together, the man swimming naked around the bank. It makes his cock twitch in Arthur’s hand, shamefully, the thought of someone from the sandy shore seeing Arthur draped over him like this, his arm jerking lazily up and down, his cock only blocked by the side of the rowboat. Arthur Morgan, Van der Linde Gang muscle, wanted in Blackwater for $500 dead— alive was not recommended— wetly mouthing at his neck, his free hand now occupying itself under his shirt. 

“Thought you were serious?” Arthur breathes against his ear, scraping a thumbnail against his nipple, hard and pebbled. “There’s a bucket to fill, O’Driscoll.” He turns his mouth to his throat again, runs his lips against the stubble there. 

“Can’t catch nothin’ with you...” Kieran swears under his breath, his fingers fumbling with the handle of his spool. Almost turns his head, to speak more at Arthur, but it turns to him just tilting his chin up, exposing more, a silent plea. “With you neckin’.”

“Then be quick.” Arthur says, almost growls, sinks his teeth into Kieran’s neck in the way that makes him groan and his fingers flex useless around the rod.

Distantly, he feels it, in his slack fingertips— something’s on the end of the line, tugging at the price of corn hooked there. Nibbling, ever-so-slightly. He closes his hands around the rod a little tighter. (So does Arthur, squeezing at the base, calloused grip on just this side of painful—) With trembling fingers, he starts to slowly, slowly, reel it in. The fish bites; and Arthur squeezes, rolls his thumb over the head of his cock, ruddy and oversensitive. 

Kieran comes, sudden and hard; he can feel Arthur’s laugh, muffled against his neck, when he shoots between his fingers, over the edge of the boat into the water, the boat rocking underneath them as his body lurches. Kieran hunches and shivers; the rod lies on the floor, line snapped. Arthur flicks his hand out over the water, ripples forming where the drops land, unceremoniously wiping the rest onto his work pants.

Kieran lets himself lean back boneless into Arthur. The boat rocks. He could be lulled to sleep, almost; the solid warmth of Arthur at his back, the sound of the water against the wood, the quiet, faraway trill of calling morning birds on the shore. Arthur presses his lips to Kieran’s forehead. Not quite a kiss. 

[hello-imasalesman]

y’all got any smut prompts/hcs/requests for me to write... kieran/arthur especially...

[maiji]

Chris and Percival from Suikoden III for @welkikitty‘s annual fandom Christmas cards project! It’s a pleasure and an honour getting to illustrate one of these cards each year, and hopefully for more years to come!

For these two characters, I was thinking about conveying the strength of their relationship while still recognising their stature as knights (so not something too typically "loveydovey"), as well as all the good things you would want to wish someone during this season that you hope can last forever. Hence the phrase “evergreen”. I wanted the brush pen linework to also stand out as much as possible, so the colours are quite minimal, approaching it almost more like a pattern.

Thank you Karthur so much for commissioning me and for being so open as always to my suggestions~!

WIP photos:

original thumbnail sketch of composition for approval

base pencils

brush pen lineart

Merry Christmas eve all~