#yeah there will be more

[lordnochybaty]

M*A*S*H text posts, pt 1/?

[tarklesbehindthescenes]

All right, all right. You guys asked me to voice Error, so here he is. If ya'll still want me to voice him after this, then I'll do more.

Origin of Comics by @loverofpiggies

Background Music: Mysterious Place, The Fallen Child

Voices: tarklesbehindthescenes.tumblr.com

[wewerenotthefirst]

EngCan, Snake!Arthur -- blame it on my own sick pride

"Arthur?" Matthew blinks once and tries to push himself off the ground. The leaves crunch and crackle under his hands and Arthur slithers into view, stray light from the canopy above dappling across his smooth scales. 

Matthew stares at him. His hair is shorter, now. It curls around his face and his eyes are still big, still standing out from the thinness of his face. Arthur looks away and reaches down to pick up the human's spectacles. He holds them out and Matthew makes no move to take them.

"What are you doing here?" He winces, shifting. He was thrown off a horse. Arthur forgives him his slowness and hesitation. 

Arthur looks down at the spectacles, thumbs pressed into the gold frame. He frowns, carefully choosing his words so as to keep his primordial hiss from distorting his speech. 

"I missed you." He admits, finally. 

"Oh." Matthew says, hushed. "Oh." 

Arthur keeps looking at him, traces over the arch of his eyebrows and curve of his mouth with slitted eyes. He thinks that Matthew looks strange out of his armor, as cracked and fissured as it was when he left. 

(Arthur had thrown it against the wall, emptying all his rage into destroying those insignificant sheets of bent metal. Matthew had watched, knees pressed to his chest, and said nothing.)

"...I thought we had a deal." Matthew says carefully, sitting back on his heels. He looks up at Arthur and Arthur feels very put on the spot, so he rests on his coils, letting his tail loop around them until he is face to face with the human. "You would let me go."

"I did let you go." Arthur's tongue flicks out and Matthew blushes. In turn, Arthur blushes and realizes that the tip of his tail is resting on Matthew's ankle. "I held up the end of my bargain."

Matthew stares at him and then looks down at his hands. "You're supposed to be dead." He whispers. "You shouldn't be here."

Arthur thinks he has one more trump card. He could play it, now, without remorse. But, he thinks, he knows, that he owes it to Matthew to be far kinder.

He could turn back now, return to his cliff top hideaway, slither into the safety of the endless mound of stones that separate him from the rest of the world. He misses the feel of salt air on his scales, the cool breeze and rocks worn smooth by ocean spray. 

But his home had tasted of Matthew. He saw the boy's handprints along the walls, his footprints in the sand at the base of the cliff. He spent nights tormented by wild shadows, forming Matthew's silhouette, breeze carrying his whispers. The salt air tasted like his skin and Arthur swore he could still hear his moans echoing in the cavern.

"I missed you." Arthur repeats. His tail wraps around Matthew's waist, the tip pressing into the cut of his hip. 

He can taste the way Matthew's breath catches. He intends to chase the heat of his blush down his cheeks and neck, remove every button that impedes his progress. Matthew's eyes are wide and it isn't fear that makes his pulse quicken and Arthur has never desired more.

There is a shout in the background and Arthur recoils like a whip, leaves thrown into the air as he slips into the bushes. 

Matthew looks over his shoulder.

In a moment, his companions return, dismayed faces brightening when they spy Matthew kneeling on the ground.

Someone calls out my lord and Arthur retreats further into the bushes, thorns nipping him in warning.

Matthew laughs off their concern but before the group disappears from view, he looks over his shoulder, lashes low.