#and i strum my small banjo as i go | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gasnewsletter · 1 year

Text

Two Round Robins - Interview & Studio Tour

Gear List

Synths & Grooveboxes

Teenage Engineering - OP-1

Teenage Engineering - PO-33 KO

Teenage Engineering - PO-35 Speak

Teenage Engineering - PO-20 Arcade

Monome - Norns Shield

Monome - Grid

Bastl Instruments - Kastle Drum

Korg - NTS-1

Korg - Monotron Delay

Nintendo - Gameboy Color + Arduinoboy

Recovery Effects - Instrument 01

Alesis - Micron

Yamaha - VSS200

Tape Stuff

Tascam - Porta Studio MK II

Sanyo - Dictaphone

Sanyo - Pocket Corder

DIY Cassettone

Loads of tape-loops

Pedals & FX

Electro Harmonix - Memory Man 2

Boss - DD-7

Boss - Looper

Boss - RE20 Space Echo

Boss - Tremolo

M-One - Effect Unit

Controllers

Akai - MPK mini

Native Instruments Maschine Mikro MK2

Interface & DAW

Audient - iD4

Logic - Pro X

Instruments

Acoustic Guitars

Deering - Banjo

Mandolin

Violin

Lapsteel (modified)

Electric Guitar

Kalimba

++ small musical toys, instruments

----

Who are you and what is your relationship with music?

I live in Ljubljana, a capital of a very small central-Europe country called Slovenia.

I started making music in my early teens. Coming from a non-musical family, it was your usual "Dad bought me a guitar" story that through trial and error and some basic lessons transcended into a music-making love affair, that seems to roll on.

I never really bothered with playing other peoples stuff, like most of my peers did, but I'd rather strum away and try to find my own thing from the very beginning.

From your usual early-teen metal phase I moved on to alt-rock and then it kinda jumped into all sorts of genres. In my early 20s I started doing film scores for smaller movies and various other media. This helped me to become quick in the various technicalities of music composition and production.

After my job at SAE Institute sadly ended, I moved on and did a lot of freelance work within the music field, before getting another regular 9-5 job in another media educational institute, which still provides my main income.

It's hard to survive only with musical output in Ljubljana, Slovenia especially if you come from a rather non-privileged background. So having a regular salary definitely helps that when you focus your creative energy on making music, the output is strictly what you decided to be.

What's the one thing in your studio you can't live without?

It's a hard question since every synth or music making gadget, at some point, is like a little baby that you can't live without. But thinking of it logically...

It's probably my laptop.

Thinking with heart however, I'd probably go with TE - OP-1 or Monome - Norns Shield.

What's your process?

Since I consider myself a newcomer into the intriguing world of DAWless jamming and ambient music, I tend to find my process to be constantly shifting.

However, what I seem to revolve around is texture. I start with texture - may it be a sample, synth or a field recording. The initial sound and colour has to draw me close enough that I can just sit and listen for a few minutes, enjoying the soundscape.

I learned slowly (and I still do) that I need to take time with each new sound element, processing it and still keep enough space within the atmosphere to let the piece breathe naturally. I was guilty (and still am at points) of doing the newbie mistake of adding and adding different harmonic layers, melodic ideas until all that is left is an asynchronous mess.

I still have a long way to go until I'll be comfortable enough to call myself anything close to a sound artist.

How would you explain your style?

I'm drawn towards a sound that sounds nostalgic, innocent and broken so I guess my style would be considered in the brighter spectrum of ambient music.

Taking a lot of ideas from nature and childhood, I try to create something that I would consider warm, beautiful, calm but at times chaotic. A lot has to do with gear that I own (or at least aspire to own) that I just enjoy the sound of and believe that such sound will push this initial style into a firmer ground as well as new territories.

Norns was something that changed my style as exploring. It's scripts forced me out of my comfort zone of quantized based music. It helped me understand that emotion is not grid-locked and my (now more open) mind found ways to conceptualize the uniqueness that came out of that little machine.

A similar breakthrough were tape-loops as well. There is no doubt in my mind that my style will evolve and something I consider now to be groundbreaking will look like a mere happy accident that kind of happened.

Has this journey of building a hardware setup changed the way you think about music or life in general?

Definitely!

The thing I really disliked when my creating was only based in a DAW setup was getting home from work and having to open my laptop yet again, staring at the same screen and making something that seemed I made a million times before. With this typical DAW fatigue I started losing interest in creating electronic music and found that strumming away on an acoustic instruments was a far more satisfying creative session.

But soon enough, the limiting sound that strictly acoustic instruments produce pushed me to search for alternatives. Once I got myself an OP-1 everything kinda changed. I took it to the park and found out that I really enjoy noodling on these portable synth around the beautiful scenery and I just let these droney textures take over.

I always knew that music has a healing effect on me, but making something that seems so naturally slow and evolving really adds it to a new level. Ambient sessions have now become far more therapeutic.

Music making (at least in this context) is now a far more meditative experience that makes me more relaxed than it used to with just creating a track in Logic Pro and now I come out of it far more satisfied.

What’s your ONE tip on music-production or creativity?

Be bravely slow.

I did a lot of music with a mindset of being quick is the only right way. But now I find that this tends to push me back into making the same stuff over and over again.

But taking time and really enjoying the process is a way more rewarding experience, giving you a sense of yearning for more exploration. You take this feeling and let yourself be hungry for a new session or better yet a new exploration into the whole unpredictable world of sound. This will then make you excited whenever you sit back with your gear just to noodle around and most importantly have fun doing it.

A book/movie/article that fueled your creativity?

Huh, a hard question since a lot of books, movies and music inspire me, but if I'd have to put a finger on it I'd say probably Steinbecks "Grapes of Wrath". I took a lot of themes from that book and used them in lyrics for a folk inspired EP I'm working on.

Another book that greatly inspired my sense of trying to mix emotion with a unique take on creativity is Danielewski's "House of Leaves". I absolutely adore that book.

Do you have a question in mind that you think I should have asked?

"What is your current dream gear?"

Anything by Ciat Lonbarde

---

Friends, this is a past issue from the G.A.S. Newsletter. Every Tuesday and Friday a new artist is featured.

#studiotour #producerlife #musicstudio #homestudio #mystudio #producer #musicproducer #synthesizer #soundengineer #sounddesigner #beatmaker #musician #eurorackmodularsynth #eurorack #electronicmusic #gasnewsletter

4 notes · View notes

existentialmagazine · 2 years

Text

Review: Matty Hendley boasts an indie-pop sound with an edge of folk in his latest summery, feel-good tune ‘Nobody Like U’

Following up to his debut single ‘I feel bad’, singer-songwriter and indie-pop up-comer Matty Hendley is back on the scene with his second jaw-dropping release ‘Nobody Like U.’ As a graduate of journalism and new media, Hendley credits his education with aiding his storytelling abilities, as it’s without a doubt his talent in painting vibrant pictures and evoking emotion within his words is one of a kind. Previously the frontman and writer for his alt indie-folk band, Happy Landing, Hendley decided to stray away towards a solo career as pop beats and catchy lyrics called out to him.

‘Nobody Like U’ relishes a vibrant indie-pop sound with a slight twist as Hendly incorporates a fairly unseen instrument in the genre, leading from the get-go with banjo strums ringing out into atmospheric bliss. Adding a slight flair of country spirit into the mix, ‘Nobody Like U’ flourishes within its incredibly individual sound as a radiant banjo riff seeps into the backing of the entirety of this three minute release, truly transporting your listening experience to a small, secluded town with open roads right off the bat. Paired beside a steady but fluid drum beat and an electronic, synth-esque drawn out note potentially from a keyboard, ‘Nobody Like U’ boasts quite the unusual array of instruments within the genre without feeling for even a second that it would fit anywhere else other than indie-pop. Hendley’s vocals atop this gorgeous instrumental mix adds the final touch of individuality, residing in the lower tones with an edge of warmth and familiarity, whilst his distinct accent rings out in every softened word. Showcasing a retrospective sound that strikes an air of nostalgia within every beat and colourful tone, it’s hard to pin whether ‘Nobody Like U’ feels like a track lost in time, or whether Hendley is just so brilliant at creating a soundscape that leaves you pondering your own past so heavily that it feels somehow dated in the best way.

Intended to leave you feeling good, ‘Nobody Like U’ carries a story that’s meant to uplift you rather than leave you emotionally stirred - although at times the sound can certainly evoke a numb aching as you find yourself pinning Hendley’s words to your own experiences. Describing the youthful essence that a man in particular feels when meeting someone who instantly makes their heart pound, ‘Nobody Like U’ feels like the intimate male-version of Taylor Swift’s earlier releases, aiming to show a more intimate side to his male audience and remind them it’s okay to feel things deeply - especially love and vulnerability. Telling an entire whirlwind of a romance in its lyricism, ‘Nobody Like U’ takes you along for the journey of the protagonist finding his way around a new love interest and falling in deep: ‘Feels like something straight off of the screen… and know I never met nobody like you.’ There’s a real multifaceted underlying nature to the release too, whether intentional or a welcome interpretation, ‘Nobody Like U’ carries such brightness and joy in both sound and words yet below the surface lies an unexplainable longing that comes with it too. As Hendley depicts such an effortless romance, hints of melancholic desire seeps through too, whether it reminds you of a previous lover turned to heartbreak, or just the yearning to find someone that could leave you feeling that way too, it’s surprisingly wonderful to unpack the layers of ‘Nobody Like U’ and find yourself lost in your own experiences from Hendley’s exceptional writing. “‘Nobody Like U’ is the sound I’ve been trying to find for a long time,” Hendley speaks on the single. “I call it “deep-south pop,” because I think the banjo embodies the spirit of the southern US – the place where I grew up listening to and playing folk and americana music, though I was never certain whether this part of the country was really where I belonged or not. I want to be really open and honest about love and hurt and the complicated nature of relationships in my lyrics, and I hope that this song and all of my music lets other men know that it’s okay to be vulnerable, and you can still love with a broken heart.”

If Hendley’s ‘Nobody Like U’ is the individual indie-pop release you’ve been searching for, or if you’re just drawn to his gorgeous love story, then you can check it out for yourself here!

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

#music #singlereview #mattyhendley

0 notes

high-fructose-dreamscape · 2 years

Text

Crimson butterfly

It was a long day. That worthy of a good rest yet for some reason I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t seem to make myself comfortable. I tried for what felt like hours yet the clock barely moved.

I was compelled to do something. I took a drive. Something to ease my soul. As I walked I saw the weirdest thing. A butterfly with a glowing red tint. A weird almost vibrating sound came from it.

I wanted to take a picture but as I pulled my phone out it flew. I have to capture a picture of this thing. As I slowly followed it waiting for the angle, I noticed the wet sensation around my ankles.

Like a dummy I didn’t notice the puddle I stepped in. Silly me as I sat on a rock drying my pants I noticed 2 more butterflies.

Compelled to take pictures I grabbed my phone. It landed on my hand. Well isn’t this a conundrum. I tried to perch it on my other hand but another flew in my face. They really seemed to follow me.

As I stood up I saw it fly barely out of reach. Barely away from me. I followed. I was so intrigued by this creature that I didn’t see the rock in front of me. The small stones. The fall.

I just remember waking up in a fog. A literal fog. How long was I out? Where am I? I had no reference of anything. Yet I saw the butterflies illuminate the thick air for me.

With nowhere to go I felt in front of me. I had to trace myself back to something. I closed my eyes and focused. Listening for the sounds of cars or people.

How did I get lost? I was only outside.

I tighten my eyes as I tried to listen closely. Nothing. Nothing. Instead I heard there jingling is a bell.

A smash into a tree looking for the sound again.

It’s so loud I could swear it’s next to me. I step forward but it grew faint. To the left maybe?

It rang true again.

I follow.

It rings.

I turn.

It’s faint.

I find my compass and follow.

It rang.

Repeat.

Repeat. Until my legs grow tired. Until my hips hurt and i was out of breath.

I stop. I sat. Then I just fell against a tree. I can’t see shit. I can’t keep going. I need a minute.

My back aches against this think prickly tree. My legs lifeless in the dirt. Then I felt the cold grasp on my hand. I look to see pale blue fingers against mine.

My brows furrowed. My eyes narrowed. By shoulders tensed.

Soon I heard the chime of the bell once again. The hands tugging me forward. They pulled me up. Dragging and leading me… and what flew next to them? The butterflies lighting a way.

A way to a village. Houses littered haphazardly. The chime of the bell grew loud again. As the fog thinned I saw more and more of the village. Huts and shacks of a day long gone. The hands disappeared as I stumbled around.

With nowhere to go I followed the river up. Up to the biggest house I could find. Up to the sound do the bells. They jingles. With them came the strumming of a string. A twang. A pluck pluck.

“If you go away you won’t hear me play.” Said a soft voice. It was feminine and sweet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was for me,” I said. I tried my best not to offend by Bowing.

I turned to see a tall slender girl. Pale and blue she sat in a spring dress playing some kind of banjo-like instrument. Between the long strands of black hair she looked to me with the eyes of someone asking for a favor.

“Listen close.” She strummed slightly. “It’s not yet time to play the encore”

“What?”

She giggled and played me a tune. It was soft abs melancholy. It was easy on the ears and well just what I needed. I couldn’t describe it to anyone but I could tell what I hear was what I liked.

I could hear it for hours and hours. At least until I woke up.

It was sudden but I woke up. That’s how I remembered it.

It was in the middle of the street. Legs sore. Shoulder busted. And a butterfly drawing next to me.

What happened?

What a weird dream.

0 notes

astaticworld · 3 years

Text

what do the oh hellos put in their music that makes it absolutely fuck like that. like tell me you can listen to thus always to tyrants without going absolutely buck wild and wanting to run through a mossy forest

#its like #i am a funky intrepid little bard #and these are my traveling songs #i have all my worldly goods in a little handkerchief #and i strum my small banjo as i go #tonight i will dine on lamb stew at whatever tavern i fall across #and fall asleep knowing i have found fulfillment #wow okay static #cue the yall are hella specific b99 gif #the oh hellos #dear wormwood

3K notes · View notes

bump1nthen1ght · 3 years

Text

Meet Cute (GN!Reader/Mothman)

Pairing: GenderNeutral!Reader/Male!Mothman

Genre: Cryptids

Warnings: Car accidents, descriptions of bruisings and pain

Word Count: 2564 words

Summary: After an incident, You find yourself in the care of a rather strange savior.

Request: Hey, long time fan, but I could never think of anything to request! I was wondering if cryptids were considered monsters here? Would you be willing to write a meet-cute with Mothman? Maybe something along the lines of them saving the reader from a disaster and sparks fly, and boy, if that's not a pun: like a moth to a flame. Mothman can be man or gender neutral, and I'd like the reader to be gender neutral! But everything is to your discretion! Have fun~! And thank you~!

He doesn’t usually do this.

As he cradles your neck, feeling the microfibers of human hair at the base of your skull and your thrumming heartbeat, it feels as if you could shatter apart in his talons. Your pupils flutter behind your eyelids, the pain of the collison definitely affecting you, even in your near-unconscious state. He sets you down on the scraps of thrown away jackets and ratty down-comforters, paying extra attention to your head and side, where splotches of purple and yellow already bloom up your ribcage. You easily fall into the warmth of the pile, snuggling into the fabric.

He sighs, anxiety decreasing as your body relaxes. Having already checked you, he thinks you should last a night before needing to go to a human hospital, just to double-check. He perches by you, tuning the ancient radio to a subtle night-time station, and waits.

Your chest flutters rhythmically, peacefully. Your features seem to shine in the firelight, catching the shadows and giving the appearance of a Baroque painting. So serene for someone just hit by a car.

He sighs.

He just hopes you won’t freak out.

-------

You wake up in a jerk, immediately filled with regret as your right side screams in pain. You clench your teeth, hand immediately checking your ribs as the memories of last night come flooding back.

You had been walking back home after a night out with your friends. You weren’t drunk, barely even tipsy, but had decided to walk the short path to your tiny house anyway. It was quick, just a 5 minute jaunt by the side of the highway and away from the bar. Just enough time for some asshole to swerve off the side of the road, send you flying, and take off without a care for the deer they assumed they just killed.

It takes a little while longer for you to process that you are definitely not in a hospital right now; Not even in your own house, or any house for that matter. A dying fire crackles nearby, the rising sun beams peaking through makeshift curtains attached to a structure of branches. You sit in a small pallet of fabric, right next to a collection of newspapers and old cctvs.

It’s ramshackle, sure, but well-loved. It doesn’t look like a permanent residence, but is lived-in nonetheless.

“Are you feeling alright?”

A calm tenor breaks the silence, causing you to shoot your eyes away from your surroundings and to focus on the person across from you.

Well, person probably isn’t the right word.

His eyes, even in the morning light, flash with red. They’re huge, set deeply into his face with very indistinguishable features. His neck is nestled into a large amount of fluff, reminiscent of winter scarf, that extends back into his large wings, which are tucked behind him. The antennas that flicker on top of his head are distinctly insect-like, but his long, muscular body and hands are more mammalian. Not human, but more similar to an animal. His hands are long and near-spindly, each finger ended with a long claw.

All these features should come together into an uncanny-valley, terror-inducing nightmare. But there’s something about his voice, the way he sits, so cautious yet concerned, that says the contrary.

“U-Uh...I think so.” You shift your body, a lightning bolt of pain shoots through your ribs and you wince. “I’ve felt better, though.” You tentatively lean down and touch your side, trying to check for a fracture without hurting yourself even more.

The creature stands up, wings still closed and kept to his back, and walks over to you.

“Would you mind if I checked your injuries? I have some experience with collisions such as yours.”

After a second, you nod. He steps closer to you, still moving at a micro-speed, and his hands slowly begin to wander up your side. You suck in a breath, but are more afraid of the potential pain than him. His slow, southern drawl reminds you of old movies and your grandpa, radiating comfort with almost every word. Plus, whatever he was, he had shown you more compassion than the human asshole who had hit you last night, so you felt a little more relaxed having him this close.

Nevertheless, he treats you gingerly, fingers just grazing your bruised side. You wince as his index finger finds a particularly dark bruise, and the creature quickly pulls back.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it just-fuck that hurt.”

The creature nods but doesn’t move to touch you again.

“Does it hurt when you breathe deeply?”

You shake your head. You had been taking calming breaths to assuage the anxiety of waking up in what might be a monster’s den.

The monster hums, a light chittering sound, like several wind chimes all at once. He reaches over to a small, nearly-rotted, medicine bag in the corner and pulls out an ancient-looking jar of pain cream. He gingerly slides it towards you. “You may try this, it might relieve the pain for a while. Although you should probably see a human doctor to see if you’ve sustained any serious damage to your ribcage.”

You uncork the cream and tentatively dab a bit on your fingers, looking up with a shaky smile to your savior.

“Uh, t-thank you. For everything-”

Growl

Your hand jerks to your stomach, face going flush as you accidentally brush against your swollen side. The creature perks up.

“I believe I have some human food. Would you like some?”

Sucking in a quick breath, trying to hide the tiny pain and your embarrassment, you nod.

The creature stands up, fumbling with the remains of a kitchen cabinet. From his hunched posture, you’d guess this tiny shelter isn’t big enough for his full height. With his long fingers, he reaches and flicks on the radio. The sounds of a local station’s jingle filters through the air as he grabs a can of beans from a shelf.

You slowly begin to rub in the medication to your side, occasionally looking up at your savior as he flutters around his den. Despite his extended limbs and large body, every movement is very similar to that of a human’s; He moves around the make-shift kitchen like a doting partner, a thought which brings a small blush to your face.

The illusion is shattered when he tears the top of the can clean off, cutting through the metal like a hot knife through butter. As he turns to rekindle the fire and start your breakfast, you quickly look back to your wound, trying to hide your curiosity.

The creature lazily stirs your breakfast as a song begins playing on the radio. The strumming bass is perfect for the morning haze, the low drawl of the singer rhythmic and relaxing. You notice the creature bobbing his head, humming along to the tune. His voice sounds slightly distorted, squeaking like the crackle of tv static. You find you quite like it.

The silence returns, filled only by the radio and the crackling fire. The creature's disposition is amicable, but you're still not sure how to initiate small talk.

“Um, thank you, again. For everything. You really saved my ass.”

The creature gestures with their hand as if to say “No problem.”

“I saw that man hit you with that car and take off. As you were hidden from the road, I thought it best I intervene.” The creature pulls off the now-cooked beans and grabs a spoon, handing the can to you. You take it eagerly, another rumble growling from your stomach. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were, foregoing all table manners to scarf down the breakfast.

“If I am being honest, I don’t typically interact with humans in such a….direct manner.”

“Ah, I guess that,” You eyes do another survey of his gangly, inhuman appearance, “makes sense.”

The creature nods, grabbing an apple before sitting across the fire from you. You can tell he is tense, probably waiting with baited breath for you to come to your senses and scream. There is a small part of you that wants too, desperately, but you silence it with a large mouthful of beans. The apple is tossed back and forth between the creatures hands, his eyes locked on the fire. The curiosity of how he eats things sneaks its way into your thought process. “Do you have a name?”

The creature perks, pausing it’s movements and looking at you with its large, red eyes.

“.....I’ve heard humans call me Mothman. I think it is quite accurate.”

You nod, swallowing down another bite of beans. “Do you...like that name?”

The creature doesn’t respond, eyes still piercing into your heart. His face has a small micro-expression, but you’re not sure you can read it. “Because my brother always said first impressions are the perfect time to reinvent yourself, so I could call you something else if you wanted?”

The creature's eyes flicker, in a movement you think is slight shock, before his eyes roll back to the fire. The small light of the fire flatters the dark black of his fur (You think it’s fur?) and only accentuate his large eyes, flashing and reflecting like rubies. In his relaxed position, he sort of looks….handsome.

“You may call me Mothman. Thank you for asking.”

You nod, letting the strumming banjo of a new song on the radio fill the void. The bouncy beat has you unconsciously bobbing your head as you scoop a spoonful.

“I love this song.” You mutter, lamenting how you're almost out of food to stuff your mouth with.

Mothman hums in agreement. “Me as well, this station is my favorite.”

Given your empty bean can, you take the leap into a conversation.

“Do you have a favorite kind of music genre?”

Mothman fiddles with the stem of his apple, brow (if it can even be called that) furrowing.

“I guess I never thought of what my favorite would be. I mostly listen to whatever the radio plays, enjoyable or not. Though,” Mothman points his thumb to the radio, “I love the sound this instrument makes, though I am unsure what it is called. It’s almost like….”

Mothman’s voice begins to make a squeaking trill, one extremely similar to that of plucked strings, although much sharper and shorter.

“Oh, you mean the banjo? Uh, the one that goes like-” You try your best to imitate the chords of the banjo, unconsciously moving your fingers to imitate playing. It’s not nearly as musical as Mothmans’, but his eyes widen and he nods excitedly.

“Yes! Yes, that sound is very pleasant. I’d say any music with that in it is my favorite.”

“Ah, country, that’s a really popular one around here. Have you ever heard ‘Goodbye Earl’ by The Chicks?”

Mothman shakes his head. Your face drops in surprise.

“Oh, it’s so good, it’s about-” As you lean over to give a long spiel about the song, another bolt of pain shoots up your side, forcing you to bite your cheek so as to not cry out. You keel over your legs, clutching your rib cage.

Right, car accident.

In a second, Mothman is next to you, tentatively laying a hand on your shoulder. His fingertips just barely brush your skin, yet you can still feel a slight fuzziness, the same that covers his whole body.

“You might want to see a human doctor, soon.” You suck in through your teeth, slowly adjusting yourself back upwards. “Yeah, yeah, that’s probably a smart idea.

“I can take you as far as the end of the highway, if you’d like to call a friend or a cab.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to stay steady. Mothman’s other hand slowly moves to your other hip, only applying a modicum of pressure.

“May I help you stand up?” He almost-whispers, a hot breath of air blowing across the side of your neck as he speaks. A shiver runs down your spine as his large fingers play gently against your skin, covering a good portion of your pelvis. You’re thankful you can explain away any blush with the pain. You nod once more.

The two of you stand up gingerly, Mothman almost extending to his full height and brushing the blanket-ceiling with his antennae. You take a couple of small steps, the pain in your side taking the occasional moment to sting you.

Your eyes squint as you exit the encampment, sun already fully risen and in your face.

“If at any point you feel uncomfortable or in pain, let me know.”

You turn your head towards Mothman, but before you can ask any questions he sweeps you up in a bridal carry and extends his wings in one motion. From the corner of your eyes you can see dark red patterns that swirl on them, invisible until caught by the sunlight. Your hands instinctively lace around his neck, fingers tucking into the soft fluff of his neck. Mothman gives you a quick nod and what you think is an assuring smile

Without a word, you two take off.

----------

You two fly low to the ground, Mothman expertly maneuvering through the trees and underbrush as he glides along the highway. You’re sure if you were to drive by, he’d look like a flickering shadow in the woods, nothing more.

He sets you down by the edge of town, just out of sight of the semi-busy main street. You basically collapse to your feet, heart pounding with adrenaline and mind wracked with “Holy fuck, I just flew with the goddamn Mothman.”

“This is where I must depart. Do you think you can find suitable transportation to the hospital from here?”

You nod, still trying to wrestle your vocabulary from ‘What the fuck, Holy shit, Oh my god.’

Mothman gives you another smile and comforting nod, patting you on the shoulder.

“Very good. Good luck on your travels. Oh, and try not to be hit by any cars, alright?”

With a playful glare from you, Mothman begins to unfurl his wings and ready himself to fly back into the woods, buut before he can-

“Wait! Uh….” Mothman halts, wings still wide open. Your mouth and mind stagger, not even sure what you wanted to say. “I have some old country cassettes back at my place. If I found my mom’s old WalkMan I could….show them to you? Some time, maybe? Give you a chance to be your own radio DJ?”

Mothman’s face remains relatively neutral, but the way his antennae unfurl and his wings slightly perk upwards betrays his interest. It’s extremely adorable, like a little kid who hears the word ‘ice cream.’

“Yes, I think I would love that.”

“A-Awesome.” You breath out, not realizing how long you had held it in. “Same place, maybe next Saturday? Though hopefully I won’t be thrown in there by a car this time.”

Mothman lets out a series of squeaks, which you assume is his laugh. He gives you a thumbs up. “Cool, it’s a date.”

With the last word, you walk away, still hobbling with your probably-fractured rib, a large smile on your face.

As Mothman flies away, the cold wind of a West Virginia morning blowing across his body, he can’t deny the certain warmth that radiates from his chest.

I have a date.

#my writing #mothman #monster x reader #monster romance #gender neutral reader #reader insert #mothman x reader #fluff #cryptids

526 notes · View notes

clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years

Note

Can we get a zardy’s maze character or your choice with a reader that plays the ukulele? That is, if you don’t mind.

I choose Pumpkin Jack!

.......

While you’re sitting on the porch, this mischievous scarecrow is watching you from afar, and he notices a peculiar instrument in your hands.

It’s like a small guitar. Not too big or bulky. And when you’re playing it, it makes a rather..sweet sound.

He’s heard a banjo from one farmer, but this sounded nothing like a banjo at all.

Eventually you spot him staring at you from the other side of the fence, and you smile and strum one last note before going over to greet him.

“Hi, Jack. Need something?”

He tilts his head, pointing to your instrument. “What’s that? A mini banjo?”

“This is called a ukulele.” You show him. “It’s my favorite. The music is really mellow and relaxing. Whenever I play it and close my eyes, I feel like I’m on a tropical island.”

“What’s a tropical?”

“...oh, like uh..beaches and palms trees...y’know?”

“Never seen ‘em.” He pouts, though he looks at the ukulele again with curiosity. “Can I try?”

You eye him suspiciously, knowing his tricks. “You’re not gonna steal this, too, are you?”

Jack shakes his head silently, and you allow him to strum one of the strings, urging him to be careful.

But, of course, he’s not careful enough to avoid getting his rake fingers entangled in them.

He panics, you panic.

Though he just grins at you, giggling. “I guess it’s mine now.”

“You jerk..” You grumble, trying to tear it free, succeeding in severing his hand. He shrieks in betrayal but you just roll your eyes. “Calm down, you big baby. I’ll stitch it back on.”

You let him through the gate, and he stumbles onto your property, annoyed and huffy the whole way to your house.

But you do keep your promise. And you ukulele wasn’t broken, thank god.

#clanask #anonymous #zardy's maze x reader #pumpkin jack x reader #headcanons

21 notes · View notes

my-funky-little-cowboy · 3 years

Text

@johnmarston I was your secret santa for @rdr-secret-santa I know I’m super late on this, but holidays are a mess here. I hope you enjoy, I wrote kind of a pre-relationship AU thing for Sadie and Arthur in a timeline where the gang went west after Colter.

The Inheritance

Summary: Sadie comes across what could be a really good score, but it means she needs to pretend to be someone else. The gang gives her the go-ahead to follow up, but only if she takes someone along as back up, and may be Hosea knows exactly what he was doing. Relationship: Sadithur (if you squint) Characters: Sadie Adler, Arthur Morgan, Hosea Matthews (minor), Dutch Van der Linde (minor) Themes: Two broken idiots catch feels, heists Words: 6,162 SFW [ ko-fi] || [ ao3 ]

The snow had started to fall as Sadie reached the outskirts of the small town, she dug her heels into Bob’s flanks and hurried up the road, hoping to escape the worst of the storm. Finding a small stable she stopped to see if there was space to put Bob up for the night, the stablehand gladly taking her money and directing her to the saloon.

Sadie welcomed the warmth as she pushed her way into the building, it buzzed with patrons looking to unwind and, like her, escape the cold. She shook the snow from her coat as she walked through the door and found a spot at the bar. Ordering a drink and some food she settled down at a quiet table near the back. While this hasn’t been an intended stop on her scouting trip, she was here and might as well see if there was any cash worth taking for the gang.

She had finished her meal when two men settled at a table near her. Nursing her drink as the men carried on, both of them locals. Sadie had all but written them off as she finished her drink, annoyed that she had wasted her time listening when one of the men asked a question that piqued her interest.

“So, still no word from any of her family?” He took another swig from his bottle and the other man shook his head. “Such a shame, she ain’t got anyone else?”

“Not that anyone can seem to remember. Just her daughter. Will’s been gone, hell, seven years now. God rest him. Miss Maggie moved away before that. We sent word to her, but no response yet.”

“Hell, at this rate we ain’t gonna be able to bury her proper ‘til the ground thaws.” The first man grumbled. “That’s the problem with money. Makes everything take longer.”

Sadie turned slightly to look at the men, taking them both in with a quick glance. An interesting score, but Hosea and the gang may want to hear about this.

The man laughed, raising his glass. “Ain’t that the truth!”

The conversation drifted between a few other topics, occasionally returning to the late Missus Mary Gunderson, as Sadie would come to learn. She pushed herself up from her table, the men having taken their leave for a round of cards. She glanced outside, the snow really having begun to fall, and made her way to ask about a room for the night.

Sadie thanked the young woman who had shown her to her room and closed the door. She draped her coat over a nearby chair and put her gun belt on the seat before taking a seat on the bed. She took a small notebook out of her bag and wrote down what she had heard before putting the journal back into her bag.

Sadie kicked off her boots and laid back on the bed. She thought about what Hosea and the others may have to say about this kind of job.

It had been nearly a year that she had been running with them, all of them trying to run from their past, getting lost in the wild of the west. She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, wanting to get on the road early and get back to camp.

-- ❖ --

The sun hadn’t risen yet when Sadie opened her eyes, that pale grey light of pre-dawn giving her just enough light to make out the room. She went about getting ready and collecting her gear, moving out the door and down the stairs into the quiet saloon.

Giving a quick wave to the owner she tightened her coat around her waist and stepped out into the cold morning air. The snow made the walk to the stables a bit more difficult, but she got there eventually. She pushed open the barn door and found Bob in one of the stalls.

Getting him saddled up and paying the stablehand for a few extra provisions, she mounted up and they started on their way back to camp.The trip took most of the day, but Bob picked up the pace as they neared the familiar entrance to camp.

“Who’s there?” A gruff voice called through the trees.

“Sadie.” She answered.

“Well, welcome home, missus Adler.” Arthur replied, appearing from behind a tree, a repeater held loosely in his hand. “Find us anything good?”

She pulled back on the reins and Bob slowed to a stop, she thumbed over her shoulder at the small doe slung over Bob’s back she had managed to snag along the way.

Arthur gave her a quick nod and waved her in before disappearing again among the trees. She rode into camp and got Bob settled, removing his tack and pulling the doe off his back when Charles walked by and offered to help. She accepted, excited to share her findings, and let him take the carcass to Pearson as she put her tack away and went off to find Hosea and Dutch.

She found them chatting quietly in Dutch’s tent, both of them looking up as she approached.

“Missus. Adler, you’re back. We’re glad you’re safe.” Dutch said, pushing up from his chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go talk to John about a job.” He gave them both a quick nod and ducked out of the tent, disappearing into the growing darkness.

“I think I may have found us something as well.” She said. Hosea waved her into the tent and she took a seat across from him.

“Let’s hear it!” He clapped excitedly.

Sadie started the story of the poor woman who had died, leaving behind a sizable inheritance. The only living family that anyone seemed to have known was a daughter that married and left town a long time ago.

Hosea rubbed his chin and she continued, explaining how they had sent a letter out, she wasn’t exactly sure when, but had yet to hear from the daughter. Hosea sat forward, resting his arms on his knees, his fingers laced together and cradling his head.

“It doesn’t seem like many people remember quite what Maggie looks like, so I thought maybe I go to town, pretending I’m her and collect on that inheritance. Money seems easy enough.” She shrugged.

Hosea was quiet a moment as he took it all in, a smile cracking on his face.

“You’d think you’d been an outlaw all your life, missus Adler! You should follow up on that. We will see if we can’t send someone to retrieve that letter.” He paused. “Take Arthur with you, you’re supposed to be a married woman after all.”

Hosea gave her a knowing look as she opened her mouth to argue.

“It’s not because I don’t trust you, just think you could use some back up.” He explained and looked down at her travel clothes. “And see if one of the other ladies can’t lend you a dress. It doesn’t have anything to do with your normal attire, just, the less you stick out, the easier to go undetected.” He held up his hand as he explained.

“I have my own dresses.” She said dryly.

Hosea had a point, she thought, it would be best to have the back up. And what married woman wouldn’t travel with her husband? She told him she would get things ready before talking to Arthur. Hosea laughed and shook his head, she knew Arthur well enough to have it all ready to go before asking, so he couldn’t say no.

She made her way over to the ladies’ wagon, setting down her things. She found Abigail darning some socks and Jack playing quietly with Sean, the bottom of a rather lumpy snowman between them. Gathering together a few items, she pulled a bag from the back of the wagon and began to pack.

“You finally come to your senses and gettin’ away from us rag-tag band of outlaws?” Abigail joked, putting down her work and pointing to Sadie’s bag.

“Sorry, but you lot are stuck with me it seems, don’t see myself livin’ some peaceful city life.” Sadie laughed and shook her head. “Hosea is sending Arthur and I to check out a lead in a town not far from here.”

“Well, I’m happy to hear you’re stickin’ around.” Abigail smiled, she put the sock away and stretched her arms above her head. “I’d miss ya if you left.”

Abigail looked down to Sean and Jack playing near the horses, deciding she could leave him be while she got them both some food. She stood and walked off, leaving Sadie to her packing.

The sun set and the cool wind blew through the camp. The gang gathering together near a few of the fires burning around camp, the soft sounds of Uncle’s banjo carrying through the crisp air. Sadie finished up her packing and joined the gang near the fire.

A heated discussion had started about whether or not Sean could actually beat Jack in a shooting contest. Which had started as a joke from John that Sean had taken offense to, and now John had put money on his son winning, the rest of the gang jumping at the chance. Abigail quickly put an end to the silliness.

Sadie shook her head as the boys settled down, each returning to their food and drink and lighter conversation. She looked around, not seeing Arthur around the fire. She finished her meal and stood up, figuring he would be off by the horses or still out on guard duty, she set off into the darkness to find him.

-- ❖ --

Arthur slung the repeaters over his shoulder and rubbed his hands together, shaking the cold out as he headed back toward the camp. His stomach growled as the light from the campfires came into view.

He dropped the repeater off near one of the wagons and headed for off to get himself some food before wandering over to the small fire near the horses, preferring to be alone as the sound of Sean and John going at it reached him.

He ate quickly, the warmth of the stew thawing him out. The arguing had died down, replaced with the soft strum of the guitar and he looked over at the gang, debating whether he should make an appearance when he saw Sadie approaching.

“Missus Adler.” He greeted her and she shook her head in mild annoyance, he was always so damn polite.

“I’ve told you damn near a hundred times, call me Sadie.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t get up either, allowing her to join him at the fire.

“Hosea said you should come with me on a little job.” She held her hands over the fire.

“Oh yeah?” He looked up at her, reaching down and pulling a log from the nearby pile and tossing it into the fire.

“Yeah. It’s nothing too dangerous, but he still said I should take you, as back-up.” She continued. “There’s a small town, about a day’s ride from here. Some rich old widow died, they ain’t been able to find her daughter, and she apparently had a bit of money to her name.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“So, what, I’m supposed to be your doting husband?” He chuckled, standing up.

“That was the plan.” Sadie turned toward him.

“How long you suppose this is gonna take?”

Arthur held his hands out over the fire, curious about the idea of another con. It had been a while since they had done something so theatrical. Hell, it may have even been since he and Hosea had to abandon that job in Blackwater since they ran a true scam.

“Won’t know for sure until we get there.”

Arthur rubbed his chin. No use arguing with Hosea. Plus, Sadie didn’t exactly get on with most of the other men in camp. It’d been rather dull around here, what the hell.

“When we leavin’?” He hooked his thumbs into his belt.

“I think we should head out tomorrow, Hosea will be sendin’ someone out to look for that letter. We can get settled and check out the town.” Sadie settled down near the fire, the warmth from the flames soothing her stiff muscles from the day’s ride.

“Right then.” He sighed. “I’ll meet you by the horses tomorrow.” He excused himself and disappeared into the night.

-- ❖ --

The sun was just coming up over the horizon when the smell of coffee drifted through camp, waking Sadie up. She stretched and slid off her cot, pulling on her boots and coat she slipped out of the tent. The camp was still quiet and the cold night air bit at her nose. She found Arthur already enjoying some coffee and a bowl of stew by the fire.

“Ready to head out?” She knelt down and poured herself a coffee.

“Sure.” He finished off his coffee, shaking out his cup and putting it away. “I’ll get the horses ready, get yourself some food. It’s a long ride, right?”

Sadie gave him a small smile and nodded. Arthur gave her a wave over his shoulder as he left. She drank her coffee and prepared herself a bowl of stew, pulling some oregano from her satchel and sprinkled it into the bowl. Finding a spot near one of the fires she enjoyed the stillness of the camp as she finished eating, soaking up as much of the fire’s heat as she could before the long ride.

Arthur found the horses grazing near the edge of camp, Bodicea looking up as he approached , she whinnied happily as he reached her. He gave her a quick pat on the neck and got her saddled up before moving over to Bob, giving him a small treat before working to get him ready.

The sun had pushed up just over the horizon when they finally got on the road, Sadie leading the way. They rode in a comfortable silence for a while, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Occasionally Sadie swore she heard Arthur humming a tune to himself. It was early afternoon when they stopped to let the horses drink and rest a bit, Arthur took it upon himself to build them a small fire.

He held his hands over the fire, letting the feeling return to his fingers. Reaching into his satchel and pulling out a couple pieces of jerky, he offered a piece to Sadie.

“So, we gonna have a story?” He took a bite off the jerky as Sadie took the other piece.

“We’re a married couple, at least 7 years now. Moved west looking to start your own stables, but working as a farrier until we can save enough. I’m teaching at the local schoolhouse. No kids.” She took a bite from the jerky and looked up at Arthur, who was staring at her.

“Oh, that it?” He said sarcastically. “You got a last name worked up for all that story?” He shook his head in disbelief. Sadie rolled her eyes.

“Thought I’d run those by you.” She snapped back at him playfully, and Arhur shot her a quick glare.

“I was thinkin’ either Colt or Cooper.” She continued. “They seem generic enough, and we won’t have something silly, like Sadie Smith. Or, I guess it’d be Maggie, Maggie Smith.”

Arthur laughed, a deep and genuine sound. Sadie hadn’t heard that laugh from him in a long time, usually reserved for smaller groups. Quiet nights around the fire in the early hours, thoughts clouded by liquor. She chuckled along with him

“Let’s go with Cooper.” He finally said. “I like the sound of that, Sadie Cooper.” The smile still playing on his lips.

Sadie told him a bit more about the situation. The information she had gathered from locals. Arthur asked her if they had a place to stay and Sadie told him there were rooms available above the saloon. They talked out a plan for their initial introductions before agreeing it was time to get back on the road.

The sun was beginning to set when they arrived in town, Sadie led them to the saloon, the snow had started to fall again dusting the main road.

“Can you go in and get us a room for the foreseeable future? I’m going to see about getting the horses some water.”

Arthur nodded, sliding out of the saddle. “Sure thing, boss.” He shot her a sarcastic salute and pushed his way into the bar.

Sadie rolled her eyes and leaned over, taking hold of Bodicea’s reins. She led the horses around back, tying them to the post and making sure they could get some water. She’d take them down to the stables as soon as they could get settled with a room.

Inside the bar was loud, and Arthur grit his teeth, adjusting to the sound. He pushed his way through the rowdy patrons fresh off of work and looking to have a good time. He tapped on the bar, getting the man behind the counter’s attention.

“Can I get a room?” Arthur asked loudly, leaning over the bar.

The man held a finger up to him and he growled in annoyance. Pushing back from the bar he turned to check out the locals. Most of the men were young, throwing themselves at anyone who dared look their way. Arthur felt the temptation to put them in their place.

“Oi, what you want?” The bartender called at him, bringing him back, he turned around.

“A room. Few days.” He grunted at the man.

“It’s two dollars a night.” The bartender sneered and Arthur grumbled under his breath, pulling a handful of coins from his satchel. He counted out enough for a week’s stay and slid them across the counter.

“Fine.” He pushed himself back from the bar as the bartender tossed a key onto the bar. “Which room?”

He snatched the key and put it into his pocket, turning to leave the bar when Sadie called to him.

“Arthur! You get the room taken care of?” She stood near a door that led to the back of the building, he pushed his way over to her through the crowd.

“Yeah” He held up the key. “Let’s get our things up to the room and get the horses put up, before the snow gets much worse.”

-- ❖ --

The suite was cozy and a welcome warmth from the cold night air, the temperature dropping as the sun dipped below the horizon. Arthur put their things down, and shrugged out of his coat, hanging it on a rack by the door.

The room was sparsely decorated, a double bed sat across from a small fireplace with a small couch off to one side. Sadie grabbed her things and crossed the room, turning to look at the bed. She was tired and half frozen, her stomach started to growl loudly and she shivered.

“I’ll take the couch.” Arthur said and moved to light the fire seeing her shiver. “Get out of that coat, it’s wet and you’ll never get warm that way. Come over here by the fire.”

“I should take the couch, I’m smaller.” She countered, tugging off her coat she hung it up and joined him by the small fire. “We should check out the town this evening. I should at least be a little familiar with it, if I grew up here.”

“First let’s get warmed up, get some food, then we can go snoopin’.” He moved toward the door, holding it open for her.

The bar was alive with people looking to relax after work, they made their way down the hallway and to the bar. Arthur pushed in to get them some space, moving to the side to give Sadie space at the bar.

He was surprisingly good at this, she looked up at him. He held out his hand, assuming that he had crossed a line.

“Thank you, Arthur.” She smiled, shaking her head.

She ordered them some food and they found themselves a table in a more quiet part of the room. They talked more about the job as they ate, Arthur seamlessly slipping into the roll of a doting husband. Sadie found herself pleasantly surprised.

Arthur was usually brought along as muscle, but she knew he was more than that. Frequently they were the last two left at the campfires. Each haunted by their own demons, but happy for the company all the same.

Hosea had claimed she needed to take him as back-up, but as the night wore on she couldn’t help but curse the old man for being so sly.

They finished their drinks and split up to talk more to some of the locals, agreeing to meet back in the room before midnight. Sadie took some time to chat with the working girls, who were always a wealth of knowledge, before moving over to the bar and Arthur got himself caught up in a game of poker.

Sadie was the first back to the room, she collapsed onto the bed, it had been a long day and she was starting to regret saying that they should canvas the town tonight. She closed her eyes, maybe she could get in a quick nap before Arthur returned.

She blinked a few times, and sat up. The room was still and the bar below had quieted down, she pulled out her watch, 2:54am.

Arthur looked up from his journal, slapping it closed as Sadie stood.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Sadie said, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

Arthur shrugged.

“You looked tired, and we can check out the town in the mornin’.” He laid back on the couch cradling his head in his arms.. “Go on now, get some sleep.”

She wanted to argue, but she was too tired...and he was right. She kicked off her boots and crawled to the top of the bed, slithering under the covers and letting sleep take her again.

-- ❖ --

The couch had made for a difficult night’s sleep and Arthur decided to stop fighting it as the sun started to rise. He rolled his shoulders, glancing over at Sadie in the bed. He stifled a yawn and headed quietly for the door. He reached into his bag, pulling a small piece of paper from his journal, he jotted her a quick note and placed it on the bedside table.

A couple new inches of snow powdered the ground as he made his way out of the bar, heading toward the stables. The cool air felt good on his skin, not accustomed to sleeping indoors. The streets were quiet and he got the lay of the land on his walk to the stables

The town seemed nice enough, blue collar, the usual complaints from the poker table last night. Seemed a lot of the town worked for a couple of the bigger farms nearby. He paused briefly as he came to a cross-road outside the stable, reading the sign he heaved a sigh. So, the Gunderson’s owned one of those farms. Great. He pushed open the door to the stables, calling out for a hand to fetch the horses.

Sadie opened her eyes as the light filtered through the window, sitting up she looked over to the couch.

Of course he’s gone

She slid out of bed, reaching for her boots but not finding them where she left them. She looked around, seeing them near the fireplace and she smiled. Such little things. Things most people don’t even notice that he does, the gestures, to show he cares.

Slipping on her boots she found the note on the table.

Went to get the horses, meet me downstairs for breakfast when you’re ready, I’m buying.

She grabbed her coat, sliding it on as she headed downstairs, pocketing the note.

Arthur sat at the bar as Sadie came down the stairs, working on some oatmeal, he turned as she reached the landing, giving her a small wave.

“Did you get any sleep at all?” Sadie asked as she settled beside him at the empty bar.

“Enough.” He said, taking another bite of oatmeal. “ You?”

“Yeah. Tonight, I’m serious, you take the bed.” She flagged down the bartender, ordering herself some food. Arthur grunted, waving her off.

“The horses are outside, we can take a ride around town when you’re done, acquaint yourself with the town.” He changed the subject and she rolled her eyes.

“You know, some local boys last night told me they work up at a local farm.” Arthur looked over at Sadie, taking another bite of his oatmeal.

“The girls told me something similar.” she responded. “That most of the town works for a couple of the big farms around the area.” The bartender returned with Sadie’s food and Arthur tossed a couple dollars onto the bar.

“The Gundersons own one of the farms, you know.” Arthur said matter-of-factly.

“That is gonna extend our stay.” She sighed and Arthur nodded.

“It will.” He agreed. She was quiet a moment before she chuckled.

“Could keep it goin’, hire people to run it? Keep the income?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, cocking his head slightly. It wasn’t a bad idea, and ongoing income? They might as well be stand-up, law-abiding citizens. They’d have to run it by Hosea and Dutch, if nothing else they’d get a kick out of the idea.

“It’s not a bad plan. Hell, I wouldn’t say no to some reliable cash comin’ in, and legitimate too? Sign me up! Though, we should send a letter to Dutch and Hosea, get their opinion.”

He looked over at Sadie, she was a survivor, a flower blooming from the ashes of her old life. Driven by this rage that scared even him from time to time. But there was a kindness in there still, he saw it. When she interacted with Jack and some quiet mornings, when she thought no one else could see, she would sit with the chickens, talking to them gently. She had convinced herself she had lost this kindness, but Arthur saw it, even if she didn’t.

They finished up their breakfast and headed out into the cool winter morning Bob and Boadicea huffed as they approached, shaking out the cold. Arthur gave each of them a pat before they mounted up.

“Take a walk around the town, then head to the sheriff to see if they can point us to who we need to talk to about collectin’ on that inheritance?” She asked and turned Bob toward the road.

“Sounds like a plan, once we know you can head over and I’ll drop a letter to Hosea with what we should do about the farm. I can meet ya after.”

-- ❖ --

The sheriff sat outside the small building at the edge of town, lazily watching passersby as they made their way into town.

“Excuse me, sheriff?” Sadie called, pulling Bob alongside the porch.

The sheriff sat forward, tilting back his hat. “Ma’am?”

“I ain’t been in town a while, but I got a letter sayin’ my ma died and they needed to talk to me about her will? You know who I need to talk to?” Sadie exaggerated her drawl.

The sheriff stood up, pulling off his hat, his eyes sad.

“Miss Maggie. I’m so sorry about your ma. She was one helluva lady.” He worried the brim of his hat. “I think mister Edgarton down at the bank is who you’re lookin’ for.”

Sadie flashed him a small smile before thanking him for his concern and his help. She turned Bob back toward the road.

The inside of the bank was quiet, empty except for her, some guards and the teller.

“Good morning, ma’am. How can I help ya today?” The teller greeted as she entered.

“The sheriff sent me this way. I’m Maggie Cooper, uh, Gunderson. Someone sent notice that my ma died?” She held her hat nervously in her hands, her brow knit.

“Oh! Miss Gunderson! Yes! Hold on, let me get mister Edgarton.” The teller turned and disappeared into a back room.

Sadie glanced around the bank, greeting the guards as she walked the space. Time seemed to stand still as she waited, the guards watching her every move. A few minutes passed and the back door opened, two men emerging from the back.

“Miss Gunderson, this is mister Edgarton, he handles our business accounts.” The teller excused himself and moved back to the desk.

“Miss Gunderson, what a pleasure. We were worried, we didn’t know where you’d taken up residence.”

“Mail moves a little slower out west. Our little town only got it’s own post about a year ago.” She laughed airly. “It’s real nice to meet you mister Edgarton, sorry it weren’t on better circumstance.”

He nodded. “Your mother was a real firecracker, real savvy businesswoman. Took over and ran things better than your pa, God rest ‘im.”

Sadie was sad she never got to meet this woman, and almost felt a tinge of guilt stealing from her. A powerful woman in a man’s world, she knew a thing or two about that.

“Ma was always a shrewd woman, nothin’ ever got by her.” She replied, as mister Edgarton gestured for her to join him in his office in the back.

The room was small and cramped by the large desk in the center, he motioned for her to sit as he rounded the desk.

“If I’m being honest miss Gunderson--”

“Please, call me miss Cooper.” She said gently.

“Apologies, miss Cooper.” He corrected. “I’ve not had to deal much in these kinds of transitions. Most the farms around here handle their own finances, but when your mother died, they came to me.” He shifted uncomfortably. “She named you as the sole beneficiary in her will, in hopes that you would return to run the family business.”

“Ah. There was always a catch with her.” Sadie mused. The woman had been a shrewd businesswoman.

“The house, their accounts, and all the land has been left to you.” He read from the small piece of paper he picked up from the desk.

“My husband and me, we don’t make enough money to have a bank account.”

“You might think twice about that now.” Edgarton interjected, sliding a ledger across the table to her.

Sadie stared at the number on the page, her mouth dry. “There, there must be some kind of error here. The farm, it was, not even ten years ago, we was almost out of money!”

It was getting harder not to be impressed with the late Mary Gunderson. Sadie had never seen a number that big. Arthur was going to have a fit when she told him.

“Like I said, your mother was quite the entrepreneur.” He pulled back the ledger and shuffled through a few other papers on his desk. “Let me pull a few documents here and we can get these signed over to you.”

Edgarton rifled through the stack of papers on his desk, pulling a few aside before digging into the pile once more. Sadie shifted in her seat as the minutes ticked away.

“Right. So, we can start with the deed to the farm.” He slid the paper in front of her. “Just need you to put your mark here.” He indicated a line near the bottom of the page, handing her a fountain pen.

She made a simple mark on the page, her eyes scanning the document. She pushed the document back. Arthur had said they would need to talk it over with the gang before deciding what to do with the farm, but they could worry about that later.

Not twenty minutes later and Maggie Cooper was a much wealthier woman. She thanked the gentlemen and left the bank. They had agreed to meet back at their room when the business was finished, and she made her way back to the saloon, her heart racing as the reality of everything set in. It had worked, the properties were theirs, the money was their, and damn was it a lot of money.

Arthur looked up from his journal as Sadie opened the door. The color drained from her face as her eyes met his and he stood up, his hand immediately going to his revolver.

He looked over her shoulder as she slid into the room and closed the door behind her turning the key in the lock.

“What’s goin’ on? We in trouble?” Arthur moved toward the door and Sadie shook her head, finally finding her voice.

“No worse, we’re rich.” She laughed nervously. “Arthur, I ain’t ever seen this kind of money!” She pulled the ledger from her bag, shoving it at Arthur.

He flipped through the book, the color draining from his face. “Ho-ly shit!” He flipped the page again, trying to make sense of the numbers. “I thought you said it was a modest inheritance?” He slapped the book closed. “We can’t move that kind of money without getting caught! Shit.”

“There’s also the house.” She held out the keyring the banker had given her. “We can at least see what is there worth anything.”

He took the keyring from her hand. Yes, this felt right, normal. Just another house, just a normal score. He tried to convince himself, the rest they could worry about later, but this? They could do this now.

“Sure, let’s go check it out.” He ran his thumb over the key, handing it back to Sadie. “Here, it’s in your name.”

-- ❖ --

The sun had set when they set out to find the home, looking to avoid the attention, they followed the signs to the farm, finding the house on a hill set just off the road. A comely home, nothing as lavish as the farm’s success would seem to justify. It sat dark and empty on the hill, pristine snow powdering the roof.

The lock clicked and they swung the door open and Arthur stepped inside, lighting a small lantern by the door. Sadie stepped inside and closed the door, the house smelled of disuse. She found another lantern in the kitchen and lit it, pulling open the cabinets.

Arthur had moved to a room off the main living room and had started to comb through the space. Pocketing various bits and bobs, whatever he found of value. The room was sparsely furnished, probably once belonging to the actual Maggie. He lifted the mattress, feeling along the seam for a slip stitch, but came up empty. Convinced the room held nothing else of value he returned to the living room.

Sadie had cleared the kitchen and moved to the fireplace when Arthur returned, moving past her and up the stairs. They worked methodically, clearing each room quickly and completely, not bothering to take stock in the moment. Snuffing their lanterns, they crept out of the house and back down the hill to town.

The saloon was alive when they returned and they were relieved as they made it back to their room undisturbed. Arthur locked the door and took a seat at the small desk, emptying everything he picked up from his bag. Sadie shrugged out of her coat, hanging it by the door before joining him at the table. She dumped her take onto the table with his, before sliding into the chair across from him.

Overall they hadn’t done too bad, a fair amount of jewelry had come from a small jewelry box in the master bedroom, adding to the large stack of cash that Sadie had found in the fireplace. The rest was small odds and ends worth a bit of cash, but nothing of import.

“Not a bad haul.” Arthur said, sitting back after separating it all. “Though, compared to the cash…” He looked up at her. “What are we gonna do about all that.”

She knit her brow. “I actually had some thoughts on that. I told the banker that we had settled in a small town out west. We can say we are pullin’ money to get our stable started. That shouldn’t draw too many questions.”

Arthur rubbed his chin, leaning back in the chair. “That could work, and with that, we could probably get a couple thousand.”

“I was thinkin’ about five, a real good haul.”

“What’ll we do about everything else, the farm? Aren’t you gonna need to be here?” He leaned forward again, his eyes meeting hers.

“I don’t think so, the banker said the farm runs itself. And if we leave it be, we don’t put anyone out of work and draw suspicion.” She shrugged.

Arthur cracked a small smile. This might just work! He reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, sliding the bottle to Sadie.

“You know, miss Adler, that sounds like a fine plan! Color me impressed. I think that deserves a drink.”

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #sadie adler #fanfic #rdr 2 fanfic #rdr secret santa 2020 #gifts #one shot #johnmarston

41 notes · View notes

thegalleonsnest · 3 years

Text

Wiggle’s Muse - Short Excerpt turned into a FanFic

Yo, so, I wanted to share a small snippet of a future project I’m working on (while also delaying my current art projects). What I’ve written out here in this post was originally in a format not meant for professional writing purposes, but I said “eh, why the hell not,” and written it out in sort of a short fanfic format for you guys to read. This project btw, is not a fanfic (had to make that clear). What I am working on is a very large scale project for myself and is still in the blocking out/rough draft phases. This right here is probably my most fleshed out scene I’ve written out, and feels pretty complete as it’s own thing. Honestly, I’d appreciate the feedback if any of ya’ll found this interesting!

Also I’m putting this in a tumblr post because I don’t have an AO3 or fanfiction account, and this is already too short for it anyway. Read the excerpt below

In front of the camera lenses, multiple grumpuses walk back and forth discussing a matter of topics but most importantly, where was Wiggle?

"Has anyone gotten ahold of Wiggle yet? She was supposed to be here hours ago,” a gruff voice coming from out of frame says. “We’ve tried calling her for over an hour, but we got nothing,” says another off camera, “do you think we should reschedule-” before they could finish, the studio doors bust open with a loud thud echoing the studio room. A tall, short armed grumpus with a boa stumbles along the room carrying an oddly shaped banjo.

“There she is,” said the gruff voiced grump, “Wiggle, whatever you got going on, you better do it now cause we got a meeting with investors in half an hour!” From the blurry view of a slightly out of frame Wiggle, she barely registered what the grump said. In a stumble, she walks to the center of the camera’s view & shakes her head, almost slurring her words, “Doooon’t worry, Darling, we’ll get you a new vest later.” “What, no, wait, that’s not what I-” before another word could be said, Wiggle readies her banjo and strikes a quick pose before strumming the strings like her life depended on it.

It didn’t take longer than a few seconds before the crew sprung into action, setting the proper lightning, mics and cameras around her. Her rhythm and measures became a lot more stable, catchy even, and then she broke into song. The next set of lyrics would become an instant, regrettable classic.

It’s not long before the VHS tape stutters and stops, showing mostly static. A magenta furred Grumpus with some hair covering a part of eye, hits the eject button, takes out the tape and turns off the tv. “Girl, you were a right mess there!” She said with a giggle. “Tell me about it, Vrittany...” Wiggle said frustratingly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And you’re telling me you can’t come up with anything better than that? Come on now!” “I wish I was lying, but I’m not. No matter what I come up with, nothing is topping whatever the heck my walking coma came up with instead!” Wiggle grabs her mug of coffee and takes a longing sip.

The two sit across from one another at the coffee bar. The aroma of that day’s set of cocoa beans waft through the cafe as most of the outside lamps fill out the darker spots inside. The place is nearly empty besides them, and a single muted green furred occupant sitting at a booth at the opposite end of the cafe, drawing away in his sketchpad.

“So, whatcha gonna do?” Vrittany asked sarcastically, “Stay awake for another week? Get inspired again? Hehe.” Wiggle sets her mug down, and answers, “I did try that again, but in style I fell asleep comfortably on a couch in the lobby”. Vrittany looked a bit stunned. “You’re kidding?! You’re crazy!” “Not crazy, Vrittany,” she takes another sip of her coffee before striking a pose in her high stool seat, bellowing out her voice. “Just creatiiiivly driveeeen~” “Whatever you say, darling,” Vrittany says before turning around to her bar’s sink. She cleans several mugs and glasses with gusto while preparing one last pot of coffee, enough for a single cup for later.

Vrittany takes off her apron and hangs it on the wayside of the counter as she walks around to take a seat next to Wiggle. After situating herself, she puts a paw on Wiggle’s shoulder. “Listen, pretty sure this is just a rut you’re stuck in right now,” she says. “Doesn’t every artist go through that every now and then?” Wiggle turns her head toward Vrittany, “Well..yeah, but this is different,” she desperately says. “I can’t let a song I made in my sleep be the best thing I’ve ever made! I know I can make something that’ll shake the world more than whatever ‘Do The Wiggle’ was.”

Vrittany pulls back her paw from Wiggle to put on her best thinking cap. As deeply in thought as she was, her face immediately relaxes into a deadpan expression, “Have ya tried singing from the heart?” Wiggle cracks a smile, “HA, if only that’s how it works! It takes a musical genius to write a hit song in show biz, not just some field day with my feelings.” “Eh, worth a shot. Got any other plans?” “I’m still trying to figure that out. I need some kind of inspiration...almost like a-”

Before she could finish her thought, they both caught a glance at the muted green furred grump who walked up to them. He mustered up the words and said, “E-excuse me, you’re Miss Wiggle, right?” Wiggle turned in her seat to get a better look at the young Grumpus. She could tell he was nervous, clutching his sketchbook in his arms rather tightly. She quickly put on a more relaxed front to help calm things down, while also still showing off a bit of her excited side. “Why yes I am, Darling,” she said enthusiastically. “And I can tell you must be a fan of mine.” “Y-yeah...!” The green grump looked a little more relaxed, but still stiff in the shoulders. “Hey now, no need to be so nervous. I always got time for my fans.” “Thank you, Miss Wiggle. Um…” “No need to finish that thought, Darling, I know what you’re about to ask and I’m happy to oblige!”

Before the young man could stop to say something, Wiggle pulls out one of her many professional hand out photos that she has, and quickly signs with her autograph before handing it to him. “O-Oh, thank you, Miss, but that’s not what I was going to s-say.” he sheepishly says. “Really? Not an autograph,” Wiggle says surprisingly. “It’s usually the first thing fans ask of me.” “Sorry, I just...I wanted to show you this sketch I made…”

The nervous grumpus slowly turns his sketchbook around to reveal a fully sketched art piece depicting a stylized Wiggle singing her heart out at the bar with Vrittany hanging out in the background cheering her on. He hands it to Wiggle to give them a closer look. It was still somewhat messy, showing a few guidelines and early roughed out shapes, but for what it was, it was still impressive to the two girls.

“Woah, that’s pretty rad!” Vrittany yelled out, leaning out from her seat trying to get a closer look. Wiggle was pretty stun, gasping at the sight of such a piece of artwork. “Darling, you drew this?! Just now,” Wiggle asked in awe. “Yeah! I was listening to some of your music and then you came in and sat down. It made me wanna draw you as fast as I could,” the green grumps says excitedly before rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry if it’s still a little messy looking though…” “Don’t be, because it is beeeaautifuuul~” “T-thank you so much, Miss Wiggle! T-that means a lot to m-me!” the grumpus says while his face lights up red from the praise. “You’re like an inspiration to me.” “Really now? Like a muse? All I do is sing the night away, Darling. You draw little masterpieces like this from me?”

As Wiggle continues to be enthralled by the young man and his work, Vrittany notices the coffee pot had finished brewing. She gets up from her seat and go back behind the counter to finish her last cup for the night. Wiggle and the green grump continue their conversation.

“W-well kind of,” says the grump, “it’s a bunch of music that inspires me when I draw. A lot of your stuff is so upbeat and fun, it gives me lots of different ideas to pump out!” Wiggle looks back, almost flabbergasted. “I’m...honestly a bit stunned that I had that kind of impact on you, Darling,” she says, almost with a melancholy tone, “...heh, kind of forget sometimes I do make some kind of impression on grumps like you.” She looks back down at the sketchbook, entranced by the creativity that sparked in the moment. That dazzling moment where it all clicked...where could she find that, when someone else can find it in her?

After an awkward minute of silence, the young grump spoke up and said, “If you like, you can keep the sketch page, Miss Wiggle?” Wiggle snapped her head back up from the sketchbook to the green fuzzball. “W-wait really? Are you sure you wanna give up this piece of art?” said Wiggle worryingly. “It’s no problem at all,” said the green grump proudly. “I already took a picture of it to save for later. I’m gonna make a painted version of it online later! Besides, it’ll make me happy if you kept it, since I was going to give it to you anyway.” “Oh Darling, you’re nothing more than a sweet one now, aren’t you? I’ll gladly keep it!” “Thank you so much, Miss Wiggle!”

Wiggle hands the sketchbook back to the green grumpus and he tears out the sketch. “No, Darling, thank you,” Wiggle says ecstatically. Vrittany returns from behind the bar with a to-go cup in hand, saying “Here’s your order, kid.” “Oh, thank you, Vrittany. How much was it again,” the green grump asked. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Don’t feel like counting change. It’s on the house.” “O-oh you sure?” “You wanna change my mind?” “Don’t think I can, so thank you!” The green grump turns back to Wiggle and says “It was so nice meeting you in person, Miss Wiggle!”

“The pleasure is all mine, Dar-,” Wiggle catches herself before she realizes something. “Actually, what was your name?” “It’s Grite, Grite Tillsland!” Wiggle lets a genuine soft smile grow on her face. She felt a lot more at ease and happier knowing her new friend was much more relax and happy overall. She reached out her paw for a handshake, and Grite reciprocated.

“The pleasure’s mine, Grite, Darling.”

#Bugsnax #Wiggle Wigglebottom #TheGalleonsNest Writing #Fic #wip excerpt #Bugsnax Fanfic #Hope you guys enjoy a taste of what's to come #even when there's very little context #I've got multiple large scale projects lined up #this is just one of them #I hope to officially start it this year #but there is still a lot of backend work to be done #and also I got tons of art to make too before then

9 notes · View notes

victoria-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Till Kingdom Come

Chapter Nine: Home on the Range

AN: I’m back! I had trouble writing certain parts of this chapter and at one point I gave up and started writing for the next two chapters. But finally this chapter is done. I also published a playlist for this story that had been sitting in my drafts. Listening to some of the songs I selected as you read through the chapters is just *chef’s kiss*. After this chapter I’m probably going to take break from the story since writing this particular chapter was so draining for some reason. But hopefully when I return I will be feeling rejuvenated and ready to write again.

Happy Holidays!!!

Word Count: 5.1k

Trigger Warnings: violence, racial slurs/dated language

Taglist: @nerds4life246

Chapter Ten: The Black Belle of the West

Sabine was fond of saloons just as much as anyone else, but tonight she visiting the establishment strictly for business. The bounty of Percy "The Fiend" Doyle had been issued by Sheriff Horace Lane, a man who usually offered the bounties that Sabine and the rest of the immortals took up. Working with him was quite the eye opening experience for Sabine. The sheriff was in the minority of accepting women and colored folks as a bounty hunters in a usually white, male-dominated occupation. It gave Sabine some comfort to know that there were some men who didn't let ego, bigotry, or ideas of femininity completely cloud their judgement.

Sabine swirled her bourbon around in its short glass as her eyes scanned over the saloon. The billiard room was so thick with smoke from cigarettes and cigars that it nearly burned her lungs, and the strains of piano music could be heard far off amidst laughter and chatter in the saloon. Laughter that came from rowdy men and pleasurable squeals from the working women lounging in the arms of their potential clients. Throwing back her shot, Sabine placed her glass down and began her prowl for the wanted man.

It was easier said than done.

There were so many people in the saloon that Sabine was having a hard time finding the outlaw. She moved from person to person, to table to table, until she found a familiar looking face. The unshaven beard, the wild, black hair, and the liver-spotted face. She took out the poster that she had been given, and compared the face on it with the man that she was looking at. No doubt, it was a match.

She stuffed the handbill into her chest and pulled the sleeves on her dress down to her shoulders. And with a vivacious smile, she strutted over to the table where The Fiend was playing poker with several other men.

"Anyone one you fellas named Doyle?" Sabine asked, placing her hands on hips.

"Who wants to know?" The Fiend questioned defensively.

Sabine shrugged, "You see, I'm new here and Charlie told me that you're a regular," she explained, playing the stereotypical vapid floozy. "And you always likes to see the new ones," she said, twirling a strand of her hair.

The Fiend looked Sabine over and smirked, "Never laid with a negress before, but I guess you'll do," he remarked, eliciting a few chuckles from the men around him.

The Fiend picked up his glass and downed his whiskey in one swift motion and excused himself with a wolfish smile, showing off his disgusting teeth. Sticking her hand out, Sabine sent the man an alluring smile and the man readily took it and she began to guide him up the wide staircase, The Fiend swatting her behind as they went. She tried not to tense nor flinch when she felt his hand, his action briefly transporting her back to her time on the Martin Plantation, but keeping her cool Sabine maintained her composure. The two of them made their way down a dimly lit hallway, where prostitutes lingered in their doors, smiling flirtatiously at him.

"Gimme a holler if you want a second inning, mister," one girl called, and winked at him, while another blew him a kiss.

They reach the end of the hall to "Sabine's" room and she opened the door, ushering him into it and closed the door behind her. Sabine smiled coquettishly at him as he began to undress, unbuttoning his shirt.

"What's your name?" he asked, pulling the shirt from his body.

"Lisa,"

"Well Lisa, I hope that you don't mind licking," he commented, his tongue darting out from his lower lip.

Sabine felt bile rise in her throat at the gesture, the very thought of his tongue making contact with any part of her made her want to gag. It was repulsive.

Sabine began tugging at her own clothes, "I don't pay no mind to that," she lied smoothly, allowing her dress to fall to the floor.

"Good girl," he cooed, eyeing her from head to toe. "You know, you're a lot prettier than the last one. Hardly had any teeth, and no tits," he described, shaking his head in distaste. "She was a flat thing, and I never liked flat. I wouldn't have mind all that, if she hadn't been such a bad fucker," he remarked, before letting out a sigh and plopping down on the bed. "I enjoyed seeing that bullet go between those blue eyes," he mentioned casually, tugging his boots off.

Sabine feigned shock, "You mean you killed her?" she asked, her voice slightly high pitched, placing her hand on her chest.

"Sure did!" he boasted, a large grin on his face. "She won't the only one too. Five other whores have been met similar fates all across this state," he informed. "I don't like to kill women folk, but if they disappoint old Fiend here, well I don't have a choice then," he went on. "Men are a whole lot easier to kill, they don't usually scream. When I robbed a bank in the Dakotas, I shot this lady and she screamed like a harpy. A shame that I wasn't able to strangle her instead," he finished, shaking his head and laughing lightly.

"It sounds like you've done a lot of killing," Sabine commented, feeling her disgust rise higher and higher at the sorry excuse of man in front of her.

"Oh darlin', it's what I do. I know it's probably not smart to talk to you about this, but if the noose ain't around my neck by now, then I don't think it'll ever be," he gloated, shrugging his shoulders.

She turned to The Fiend and smiled, "You sound like a very smart man," she complimented, watching him unzip his pants.

"What I am is horny," he corrected, staring at her hungrily. "Now come over here and let me get a better look at you," he ordered, beckoning her over.

Sabine walked over to The Fiend and he laid back on the bed, tucking his arms underneath his head. She planted her foot on the bed and slowly began to draw her chemise up.

"I'm sure many people are wanting your head, mister," Sabine mused, biting her lip.

The Fiend shrugged again, "I've got a bounty. About 7,500 dollars. Bunch of bullshit if you ask me, I'm worth a lot more," he proclaimed, puffing his chest out a bit.

"You know, I'd have to disagree,"

Sabine pulled her skirt up to her thigh, revealing her revolver in its holster. Before The Fiend could even react, she whipped out her gun and shot him dead center in the forehead.

"7,500 is far too much for you, bastard,"

High pitched screams and confused shouts rung out from behind her door and below her as she heard of flurry of movement downstairs. Blowing the barrel of her gun off, she slid the revolver back into its holster. Sabine picked up her clothes and redressed herself, mentally reciting the words she was about to say to the more than likely frenzied crowd that was going to be at her door in any moment.

"Everybody calm down, I mean no one else any harm," she would begin. "I am Corinna Vance, a legal representative of the Criminal Justice System of the United States of America. And this man here was a wanted man," she would explain, unfolding the warrant that matched Percy 'The Fiend' Doyle's description.

~~~x~~~

The sound of cheers, clapping, and the thumping of feet against wood reverberated in the air alongside the instruments being played. Strumming and singing to the rhythm of the tune, Sabine felt herself smile at the small audience who were clearly enjoying her performance. She didn't plan on doing this, not in the slightest, Sabine thought maybe around this time of the day she would be having a cup of coffee after finally getting up from bed from the long night she had. She had been tracking down another bounty given to her, this time she didn't even go under a pretense, she just sniped him from afar.

A well deserved rest was in store for her, she could taste it on her tongue.

But then, as soon as she rode into Hickory, Sabine was surrounded by children begging her to play on the banjo. And as much as she wanted to say 'no', Sabine could see the way their eyes lit up at the mere prospect of her performing.

And so she played.

So now that I am old and gray Listen close to what I say The white folks, they will write the show If you can't read, you'll never know

Sabine watched as the children swung each other around to the sound of the fiddle player, his bow striking across the strings as he rolled out the notes. She stared off to her side as she plucked the strings of the banjo with her skilled fingers. Bastien was sitting on their porch drinking from his flask, a smile was stretched upon his face at the cheerful kids in front of him.

Weeks had passed since the incident in Bastien's bedroom, and like with the 'river incident' the two of them mutually agreed in silence that nothing happened. Because technically, it was true. Yes, she and Bastien had a...heated moment that came close to a kiss, but did they do it? No. But of course that didn't stop Josef and Nicky from teasing her, because they knew something had gone down behind the Frenchmen's door.

Better git yer learnin' Better git yer learnin' Better git yer learnin' Before it goes away

Sabine and the fiddler drew the song to a finish, playing the same notes with much enthusiasm and joy. The last note rang out in the air and everyone from the children to the adults lounging around to hear Sabine play erupted in applause.

She did a little bow, "Thank you, thank you," she said, smiling herself. "Like the song I was just singing," she began, gazing at the young children in front of her. "You all need to get your learnin', so back to the schoolhouse," she ordered gently, and all the children simultaneously groaned. Sabine shook her head and wagged her finger. "I will be hearing none of it. Go on, off with you. Playtime is over," she informed, shooing them away with her hand.

Sabine pushed herself up from her seat on the porch step and turned around to see Bastien looking at her already.

"Quite a dark song to sing to children," he stated, with a chuckle. "'Ol' Massah found out, sure enough. And poor old Nick, he got strung up,'" he recited, putting the cap of his flask back on and tightening it.

Sabine walked closer to him, "It is true though," she responded, holding her banjo by the neck. "The penalty was death if a slave was caught trying to educate themselves," she continued, look down the road where the small schoolhouse was. "I'm glad they don't have to suffer or be beaten for wanting to learn," she added.

"I am too,"

She her turned attention back to him, "Why are you drinking so early?" she asked curiously. "It's only eleven," she pointed out.

"Well, in France I believe it's five o'clock," he retorted, slightly grinning.

Sabine snatched the flask from his grip, "That's not an excuse," she said letting out a laugh and running away from him into the house.

As soon as she crossed the threshold of the front door, Sabine felt a hand wrap around her waist and spin her around. Giggles bubbled from her throat as her surroundings whirled around.

"You two having fun?"

Andy's voice shattered Sabine and Bastien from being in their own little world and he quickly placed her on feet, grabbing his flask back with little resistance.

"Morning Andy," Sabine greeted awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck and making her way to the den area.

"Your hunting go well?" she questioned, glancing back down at her newspaper.

"Plentiful," Sabine answered, laying the instrument against the wall. She shrugged her knapsack off her shoulder before reaching into the bag and pulled out a wad of cash. "It's all here. All $7,500 of it," she beamed, walking back over to Andy and handing her the cash.

Sabine remembered bringing the body of the outlaw to the sheriff and him giving her reward. He promised that all the money was there, but she counted the money nonetheless. It was better to be safe than sorry in her opinion.

Andy smiled and nodded, "Nice job," she complimented. "I'd figured you would want to wash up, so I heated some water up for you," Andy explained. "Booker, if you would be so kind to take that pitcher to the washroom," she requested.

"Sure boss," he answered, and walked over to the stove, wrapping the pitcher's handle with a towel.

Sabine watched as his figure disappear down the short hall where the washroom was located, but stopped when she felt like there were eyes on her.

She glanced over to the oldest immortal who had her brow arched, "What?" she asked, removing her hat from her head.

"I've been hearing...rumblings," Andy began, her voice low as she folded the newspaper up.

"Rumblings about what?"

"That something transpired between you and Book while I was away," Andy answered.

Sabine scoffed slightly, "Josef and Nicky said something didn't they?" she questioned, taking off jacket. "What did the two gossipers say?" she asked again, turning around to go hang her things up.

"Nothing compromising if that's what you're worried about," she reassured. "Matter of fact, I'm not completely sure what is going on," she admitted, the chair creaking underneath her as she stood up. "I have an inkling due to Joe's teasing mood as of late,"

Sabine shrugged casually, trying to brush off Andy's suspicions.

She turned around, "It's Josef, when isn't he teasing one of us," she said, with a chuckle.

Andy approached her, "Booker is fond of you," she said bluntly, just loud enough for only her to hear.

Sabine's mouth opened and closed like a fish, trying to form words, "W-Well, I hope he would be, we've only known each other for a decade-"

"That's not what I mean and you know it,"

"Is everything alright?"

Sabine stared past Andy's shoulder and saw Bastien looking at the two of them with a slight frown.

"Yes," Sabine answered, flashing him a smile. "Just us two gals talking," she explained, moving past Andy. "Thanks again for the bathwater," she added, looking over her shoulder at the oldest immortal.

Andy let out a chuckle in disbelief, "Sure, no problem Sabine," she replied, shaking her head.

Sabine went down the hall and pushed the door closed, seeing her clothes that she forgot she left in there folded neatly. Sighing gratefully, she stripped herself from the clothes she was wearing and put them aside before she rinsed her hair. Next, she soaped her face and hands, humming to herself as went. She carefully rinsed her face before taking a wash rag to the rest of her. Finally, Sabine bathed her body and shivers ran down her spine from the chill in the house. She quickly dried herself as best she could and dressed herself in her clothes from the day before.

Dirty clothes in hand, Sabine left the small washroom and out to the main area where Andy, Nicky, and Josef were all seated at the table while Bastien was

Josef's eyes lit up at the sight of her, "My good friends, I think we have a genteel lady in our presence again," he commented, staring at her outfit.

Sabine rolled her eyes and did a little twirl, her skirt dancing at her ankles, "Yes, it is I, Lady Sabine," she announced, straightening her posture and lifting her hand in the air.

Doing a quick bow Sabine left the den, walking towards her bedroom to place her things down and return back to the main area of the home.

"You know that Juneteenth is approaching soon?" Sabine asked, tucking the sides of her blouse into her skirt a little more. "Last year we missed out on the festivities, too busy chasing down outlaws," she remarked, going to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"Ah yes! I can hardly wait!" Josef cheered. "Good food, good drink, music, and dancing. Who could ask for more?" he added, leaning back in chair with his arms behind his head.

"We could all use a bit of fun," Nicky chimed in, as Sabine looked up from her cup.

"But not too much fun," Andy suggested cautiously. “I am not trying to play nanny to any of you,” she joked, a smile reaching her lips.

Sabine went to join the group, "Oh come on Andy," she complained, pulling her damp hair over her shoulder. She walked past Bastien, lightly letting her finger trail across his shoulder, his body stiffening in response. "Bastien is our resident functioning alcoholic," she quipped, taking a seat next to him. "I think we'll be just fine," she added.

~~~x~~~

A light breeze swept through Hickory as Sabine did her afternoon chores outside.

She looked over the clothesline to see children sitting around Hans listening to him tell stories from his homeland. They were interesting tales that had the kids attention completely eaten up. Just the way he told them made them all the more captivating. His hand gestures, the voices he would give the characters, even the facial expressions he put into it. It made her wondered why he didn't teach at a fancy school somewhere instead of...being here.

Sabine pinned another shirt onto the line and lifted her eyes from her work again, just in time to meet Hans' gaze. He sent her a quick wink as he continued his storytelling, she chuckled to herself and shook her head as she bent down to pick up another article of clothing. The sound of a bell being vigorously rung echoed in the air followed by the loud chatter of children passing by her home.

Back to the schoolhouse they go.

Attaching her chemise to the line with clothespins, Sabine could see from the corner of her eye Hans' form strolling over to her.

"Afternoon Miss Vance," he greeted, from the other side of the clothesline.

"Afternoon," she echoed, wiping her hands dry on her dress.

"Hard at work I see," he joked, motioning to the drying laundry.

Sabine chuckled slightly, "Trust me, I've done harder," she replied, knowing the statement would go right over his head.

Hans didn't know that she was a slave, he didn't ask, so she didn't tell. Sabine always wondered if he didn't ask out of dignity or out of pity.

"Then let me grant you a reprieve," he said, sticking his arm out. Sabine glanced over to the clothesline and Hans chuckled. "I make better company than the laundry, I promise," he assured, a twinkle in his eye.

"I guess you have a point," Sabine agreed, her lips quirking up into a smile as she walked over to him.

"How about a ride to the nearby meadow?" Hans suggested, glancing over at her.

"That sounds lovely Hans," she agreed, before walking over to her horse.

Freedom was a beautiful horse, Sabine knew so. The animal was well built, a white stripe ran down nose, her coat a light brown that seemed to drop into a darker brown around her under belly and legs. Yes, Sabine adored the horse, it was her companion on her many bounty hunting trips. She stroked Freedom gently and in return the horse nuzzled her shoulder.

"Good girl," she cooed, giving the horse a pat and mounting it.

Sabine maneuvered her horse, guiding it to the front of her home where Hans waited on top of his own steed.

"Race you there," Sabine said, squeezing her legs on the horse's sides.

Freedom's light trot turned into a sprint as she took off, Sabine felt her plait bounce on her back as she sped off, looking back at the German with a wide unmistakable smile on her lips. Hans flashed his soft gray eyes at her, smiling back as he tugged on his reigns to catch up with her and ride at Sabine's side. Leaning her body back a little, let out a whoop as she felt the wind rush past her.

Soon, the two of them found themselves at a wide meadow full of flowers and tall, green grass.

Slowing her horse down, Sabine gazed at the scenery with a small grin and dismounted Freedom. Hans followed behind her, hopping off his saddle and dusted off a sprinkling of dirt on his horse's rear. Sabine lowered herself onto the ground and laid on her back, not caring if grass got in her hair. Without taking her eyes off the clouds in the sky, Sabine could hear Hans plop himself down next to her.

"Not that I'm not grateful," Sabine began, staring at a cloud that reminded her of a feather. "But why did you bring me out here?" she asked, lazily turning her head in his direction. "The porch is a very comfortable place to sit as you know," she joked.

"Too many prying eyes," Hans answered, staring down at her.

"What? My friends?" she questioned, with a chuckle. "They're harmless," she assured, giving a dismissive wave.

"You sure about that?" he asked back, letting out a laugh of his own. "What's his name, Samuel? I don't think he's that much fond of me," he commented, taking his hat off.

"Oh, Samuel is like that with everyone," Sabine replied, knowing that was lie.

"Miss Vance, I think you're lying to me," he stated, tearing some grass from the ground.

Sabine snickered, "Was it that obvious?" she wondered, resting her hands on her stomach.

"Just a little," he replied, pinching his fingers closely together.

"Samuel is...Samuel is something else," Sabine explained lamely. "He can be a bit cold towards people he doesn't know. I wouldn't take it personally," she instructed.

Hans hummed, "I'll take your word for it," he responded, stroking his beard, clearly not sold on the idea.

Sabine laughed lightly, "Anyways, did you have fun telling your stories today?" she asked, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

"It was wunderbar!" Hans answered, with a grin. "The children seemed to be hooked onto my every last word I said," he recalled proudly.

"I don't doubt it," Sabine agreed. "It makes me wonder why you're not a teacher in some big, fancy school in New York," she commented, looking at him in curiosity.

"I use to tutor children from the upper class for many years and life soon became monotonous for me," he explained, staring out into the meadow. "I kept hearing people say that 'The West' is full of opportunities and new experiences and I couldn't help myself," he went on, shrugging a little. "I know I'm a bit old, but I couldn't shake that sense of adventure off me," he finished, turning towards her with a grin.

"I think you're never too old to have a sense of adventure," Sabine disagreed. "You only get one life, why not live it?" she questioned, managing to keep a straight face as the hypocritical statement slipped past her lips.

"And what about you?" Hans inquired, lightly tapping her thigh. "The children have told me that you are quite the singer," he informed. "Your voice could take you places," he suggested.

Sabine scoffed, "Where would I sing?" she challenged. "In a fucking minstrelsy show to humiliate myself?" she asked, shaking her head.

"Goodness no," he disagreed vehemently. "And I wouldn't want you to subject yourself to that," he added. "I just thought with your singing-"

"There isn't a stage in America that would let my colored ass perform," she cut in. "Look Hans, you may not know this, but being a female bounty hunter sometimes isn't really the most grateful job. Whether it's because you don't have a cock or your skin is not the color of milk. But at the end of the day, I still enjoy what I do. It helps me provide for myself and my friends, takes me to new places, and meet new people along the way," Sabine continued, running her hand through the grass. "Plus, I get paid to kill white folks," she added, a smirk on her face.

"An added bonus I'm sure," Hans responded, with a chuckle. He began to play with his hands before looking at Sabine again. "May I hear you sing?" he requested, with a hopeful look on his face.

"What?" Sabine asked, raising her brow. "Come on," she complained, throwing her head back.

"I haven't had the pleasure of hearing you sing," Hans pointed out.

Sabine exhaled dramatically, "Okay, fine, fine," she conceded, pushing herself up completely.

One evening as I rambled among the springing thyme I overheard a young woman conversing with Reynardine.

Her hair was black, and her eyes were blue, her lips as red as wine. And he smiled as he gazed upon her, did that sly bold Reynardine.

"That's it, I'm not singing any further," Sabine stated, lifting her hands in the air. "If I sing anymore this week, I'm gonna have to start charging people," she quipped.

"But my appetite has not been sated yet," Hans pouted humorously.

Sabine grinned, "Too bad," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders.

"Where did you learn that song from?" he asked curiously.

"Some English fellow that I met this past winter," she replied, a faint smile on her face. "He was a...very pleasant man to be with," she commented, thinking of fond memories about Oliver.

"You meet the darnedest of people out here, don't you?"

"It's like I said, perks of the job," Sabine reminded.

A silence fell between them as another breeze swept through meadow, blowing strands of hair across Sabine's face. She turned her head and stared at Hans with intent. Something was off about him today, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Was there another reason you brought me out here?" Sabine asked, staring at him.

The smile on his face lessened at her question, "Actually yes," he replied, tossing some blades of grass back onto the ground. "I received a telegram from Texas. A friend of mine is having trouble. You've heard of Theo Beck, I take it?" he asked, returning her gaze.

Sabine shrugged again, "A little. Sheriff Lane told me that he killed his family and then robbed a bank?" she answered, wondering where this was going.

"That'd be him. He was suppose to hang last week, but he escaped from his cell the day before his execution. Now, my friend is a federal marshal and he's the one that set the bounty. Dead or alive. Everyone's been searching, and his last sighting was in Oklahoma..." he trailed off.

Sabine's mind quickly put two and two together about this conversation.

"You're leaving?" she remarked, both of her eyebrows raised.

"I'm afraid I am my dear," Hans confirmed, nodding his head.

"I feel like you just got here and now you have to leave," Sabine grumbled, crossing her arms.

"I have to Corinna, I might never see an opportunity with the size of this reward like this again," he explained, raking his hand through his hair. "You are the one who told me that we only get one life," he reminded, slightly grinning.

"Yes, but I didn't think your next adventure would be this soon," she retorted, throwing her hands slightly. "Who's going to teach me German now?" she questioned, shaking her head a bit.

"I'll think you'll do just fine without me schatzi," Hans assured.

~~~x~~~

Sabine and Hans walked alongside their horse as they approached Hickory, deciding to give their horses a rest.

"Before I leave here, I want to give you something," Hans stated, before digging inside his coat pocket. He pulled out the German language lesson book that he had been going over with her. "Something for you to remember me by," he added, extending the book towards her.

Slowly, she pulled the book from his grasp, "Hans, are you sure about this?" she questioned. "We may never see each other again, I'll have no way of returning this to you," she pointed out.

"It's a gift remember?" Hans replied, a small smile on his face. "And when we do meet again, I expect us to have full fledged conversation in German, recalling all our wonderful exploits," he corrected, with an affirmative nod.

Sabine laughed, "I look forward to it," she concurred, clutching the book against her chest.

Hans stepped forward, gently taking her by the arms, "Before I depart I would like to also give you a proper goodbye,"

She arched an eyebrow, "'A proper goodbye'?" she repeated, wondering what he meant as he pulled her into his embrace.

"Yes, something that I've been wanting to do for a while," he continued, as he slid his hands around her waist.

Lowering his head ever so slightly, Hans planted his lips on her mouth. Sabine gladly allowed herself to lean into him, exhaling gently as she reciprocated the kiss. For that instant, they were totally unaware of everything and everyone around them. Hans' grip on her waist tightened, deepening their embrace. From the corner of her eye, Sabine saw a figure emerge from the front door of her home. Abruptly, she pulled away from Hans when she recognized who it was. Bastien. Clumsily, the book slipped from her hands, dropping it onto ground with an echoing thud.

Embarrassment was written all over her face.

"Samuel! I-I-didn't you see there," Sabine said sheepishly, her hands folding into one and other in a nervous, awkward motion.

"I can see that," Bastien responded, with harsh plainness.

Sabine glanced over to Hans, expecting to see the same wide-eyed expression as her, but instead Hans looked smug. Completely unfazed that Bastien had caught them in such a position. Sabine started to believe that's what made Bastien angrier as his nostrils flared and a vein on his forehead protruded out in anger.

Hans faced Sabine again, "Auf wiedersehen," he said, before kissing the top of her head.

The German climbed onto his horse and spurred it forward with his heels, sauntering past the town's wooden placard. As he left, Sabine could hear him humming a little tune to himself and she instantly recognized it.

It was the song Reynardine.

Chapter Eleven: Green-eyed

23 notes · View notes

danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 3 years

Text

Car Mending 101.

Boss! I found an open window! We can crawl in through here!

Ok!

*Kuripa opens the window slightly wider to allow Makoto an easier time of fitting through it.

Alright! We’re in!

Cool. Now, you go upstairs, and find that couple’s bedroom. I’m gonna stick down here and nab us some provisions.

Don’t take anything that isn’t of value Kuripa. We’re just here for some clothes and provisions.

I know, I know.

*Makoto heads upstairs to get changed.

After a few minutes, Makoto comes back downstairs. Kuripa is leaning back in the armchair, strumming a banjo.

So? How do I look?

Basically the same...

Oh come on, that’s not true...

Eh whatever. I don’t care how you look, just if you have new clothes that you can go with for a few days...

Yeah...but...that aside...What’cha got there?

A banjo?

No, not that...That thing...

*Makoto gestures to a shotgun Kuripa has leaned up against the armchair he’s on.

Oh that? It’s a spare shotgun I found. I figured we should take it just in case.

Didn’t I say something about only taking essentials?

Hey, this COULD be essential! We might actually really need to use this shotgun!

Don’t worry! I don’t plan on actually shooting and killing anyone with it. It’s really just a precaution.

If you say so...but you’d better keep your word on that.

Anyway, what else do you have on you.

It won’t take us that long to get back to the city. We’ve been travelling for just one night.

But I got us some food that’ll keep us going in that time.

I was gonna take some beer too, but I think it’s best you stay off the alcohol for a bit. Besides, it was left open.

Ew...Good call in that case.

Yeah, right? In any case, I didn’t touch anything else.

Alright then...so I guess we’re gonna go grab a vehicle?

Assuming these people have one yeah...

*Kuripa puts down the banjo and picks up the shotgun. The two then exit the house.

*The duo arrive at a barn next to the house. They open the gates to it and inside they find a small truck.

Oh my fucking god...!

Welp, there’s our vehicle.

No! No it’s not!

Huh!? Why not?

Look at it! It’s a piece of shit!

*Sure enough, the vehicle is completely rusty and battered, in completely not working order.

Oh come now, it’s not THAT bad...

What do you mean “it’s not that bad?” Look at it for crying out loud, we’re not going anywhere in this thing!

*Kuripa and Makoto examine the car. It’s a mini-truck with an open back.

Look at this! It’s even missing a tyre!

Yeah...and it’s out of fuel too...

Wait...lemme check...Shit! Car battery’s dead too! What the hell is wrong with these people?

To be fair, they are both quite elderly. If I had to take a guess, they’d probably use this to go down to the city, but as they grew older, there wasn’t much point.

So...we’re really gonna have to fix this thing up for them? I’m not a damn mechanic!

We don’t have a choice. This is the only vehicle on this farm other than the combine harvester and the tractor. And it definitely beats running on foot. Let’s just fix it up, then we’ll be out of here.

I hope to god they never find those horses.

Found us a tire! Catch!

*On the second floor of the barn, Makoto tosses down a spare wheel to Kuripa. Makoto hops down himself, softening his fall with some hay bales.

Here, I found a wrench and a pinch bar. I’ll lift the thing up, and you attach the wheel.

Got it.

*Kuripa takes the pinch bar and uses it to hold the truck up, while Makoto attaches the wheel to the car and screws it on.

Hey, I gotta ask. If we actually get this thing moving, which of us is gonna drive?

Do you even have a license? I’ve never seen you drive before.

Sure I do. I’ve got a license but I don’t have a car...

Why not?

Eh, they come with vehicle inspections and a crapton of loans, and it’s just not worth it in my eyes.

To each their own I guess. Oh, you can drop the car now.

Cool. I’ll go fill it up with gas then.

Do we have something to charge the battery?

Well I’ve got an idea? You know how you mentioned the tractor?

Yeah?

If we get the wheel on this thing, push it towards the tractor and hook the battery up to the it, that should give it enough juice.

Gotcha! That’s pretty clever.

*Kuripa finished filling the car with gas. He takes it at one end and Makoto pushes it from the back.

Carefully now.

Yeah...

...

*Makoto looks towards Kuripa, and the shotgun slung around his back.

Kuripa...I’m sorry, but I’m really not feeling the shotgun.

Huh? Why not?

Well it’s just...You know...

Boss, seriously, don’t worry. Even if I wanted to kill someone with this thing, my aim is garbage. This is just a precaution.

Like you have to aim well with a shotgu-AAAH!

NONONONO!

*The boys push the truck to a slope, when all of a sudden it starts gaining speed. It slips from their grasp and almost crashes into the tractor barn.

What the hell happened!? D-Did you let it go?

No, of course not!

Eh, whatever, let’s just go get it.

Right...

...

*Kuripa hooks up the tractor battery to the car battery.

Let’s just give that a bit.

Right...

*Kuripa leans up against the truck as the two patiently wait.

...

Boss...

Yeah?

If I ever came close to actually really badly hurting someone...with shotgun, sword or otherwise...what would you do?

...I’d try to stop you.

Hehe...Not even a moment’s hesitation.

I trust you with my life Kuripa. And I know the violent solutions don’t always come first with you...

But when you do make violent decisions you sometimes take it too far. No, you do most of the time.

It’s always all or nothing with me. No matter what, but...

I’m glad to hear that.

Really?

Yeah. I don’t want to hurt innocent people either. So I’m glad you’re here to keep me in check.

Don’t know what’d happen without it...Don’t really want to think about it...

No...me neither...

Though...I’ll say this much...

*He stands up, and looks at Makoto seriously.

I have nothing but respect for you, and like I said, you’re free to get in the way if I ever hurt people...

But if the day comes where I finally find my sister’s killer, no one, not even you, is going to stop me from taking his life. No matter how far off the edge I go, I will not take your hand so you can pull me back.

...

Does it really have to be that way?

What?

In reality, you don’t know anything about this guy. What if he had a reason for killing your sister? Like, his family’s life depended on it or...

No, I feel this will go out one ear and out the other.

Let’s just say this...What if, you were in my stance, and a man with an iron mask ran you over with a car and shot your wife?

...!

Hate to strike you in the heart like this man, but wouldn’t you want revenge too? In fact, don’t you desperately want a piece of whoever it was that set that bomb off and almost killed her?

Yeah, I want to find out who it was that framed me and betrayed the Future Foundation...

But that’s it. I just want to find out who they are. And I want them brought to justice by the Future Foundation and the law.

Are you sure? Are you certain of that?

...?

I’m willing to bet...even if it’s reserved little you, if someone was to shoot and murder the person you love right in front of you, while you’re unable to stop them...I think you’d give birth to a monster inside you too.

I am not a monster Kuripa...

And neither are you...

...!

Well, whatever...Just saying...Don’t get in the way.

And if I do? Will you cut me down too?

...I...Possibly.

...Alright then...

*Makoto scoots Kuripa over and reaches inside the truck. He tries to switch on the engine, and in response gets a little growl.

Oh shit!

*As soon as the engine turns on, Kuripa jumps up.

Bingo!

I can’t believe it...This piece of crap actually works...!

See? What’d I tell you?

You did, but to be real, I still had my doubts...

Sometimes it’s worth having a little faith in me and the things I say.

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #danganronpa 1 #dr1 #oc #kuripa kurafto #makoto naegi #ask #the fugitive arc

5 notes · View notes

princessdevy03 · 4 years

Text

Tumblr Exclusive!!!!

Author’s Note: Happy birthday to @anybodihearme! I know it’s late but it’s done. Don’t fight me! I’ll fight you, damnit!

Birthday Surprise

Kevin leaned his head back and sighed.

The city whipped by outside the window of the Uber Eddy ordered as quickly as the thoughts in his head.

“Rolf has the dogs and Nazz is holding my present from mom...”

“Ed is gonna cut the grass Saturday…”

“Sarah’s gonna make sure the guys at the shop are on schedule…”

“Johnny’s got the shop…”

As the city gave way to the countryside, he closed his eyes to lock away the blue of the sky that reminded him of a certain set of the eyes he hadn’t seen in far too long.

Edd was stuck across the country at his dream job as a director of a biomedical lab in the Pacific Northwest. His and Kevin’s relationship started there because Kevin was stationed at a nearby US Navy base as a Marine, but when Kevin’s dad passed away, he came back home to West Virginia to take over the family auto body shop as his contract was up and decent mechanics jobs were hard to come by without moving down the coast to even more expensive locales.

Edd said they’d make it work, but Kevin was wary.

His career in the Marines took him to Hawaii, Germany, Japan, Korea, Texas, and England.

Every duty station led to new heartbreak as every other guy or girl just couldn’t handle being in a long distant relationship.

Edd was the first who seemed to understand, but he was also the first person that got Kevin to think about life after he couldn’t handle being in the Marine Corps anymore.

The stress of dealing with his PTSD and trying to juggle being a good son, good friend, and a good Marine was tough.

And when romance was involved, his being all in could be the most stressful thing of all.

Edd had always been a bit high strung when it came to how he liked his home to look, how he applied himself to school and work, but his love for his family and friends was easily given as breathing.

So while Kevin would be there with gifts, surprise dates, and mushy compliments, Edd was more likely to suggest getting coffee before spending the day running errands and grabbing a quick bite to eat before Kevin had to be back at the barracks.

But the sudden cross country shift had them rethinking about how to keep the love flowing.

Kevin would send flowers everyday and Edd would call him every night.

Up until about a month ago.

The texts were short, but he’d still get a good morning text and he started sending GrubHub to the shop every Friday with donuts and a box of coffee from Dunkin’.

Kevin would be lying, though, if he said that Edd ignoring his Duo calls didn’t have him feeling some kinda way.

But Edd did suggest that Kevin head up to the dude ranch in the mountains for his birthday to get away from work and his lingering issues with closing his father’s estate.

“I’ll call you when you guys have dinner, and I’ll make something with you and it’ll be like having dinner together,” Edd had said when Kevin finally got a hold of him two weeks ago.

Edd was dressed in his lab coat that looked like it was losing a fight with the chemicals in the lab and he needed a haircut and some sleep if the bags under his eyes were any indication of what he was feeling like at the moment.

Kevin felt a tinge bad that he had a snarky attitude in the texts he had been sending, and Lort his voicemail messages…

Edd’s work was desperately needed in the middle of the current global health crisis they were living in, so he hadn’t been purposely ignoring his man, but he could make time, right?

But with the world being on a tight lockdown, dinner via video call would have to do.

When he got to the ranch, the fresh air had him feeling a bit better.

And the horses…

Growing up, he’d spend at least a week every summer with his whole extended family at the family ranch in Wyoming, so riding horses was second nature to his bike and motorcycle.

When Edd suggested going riding in the Cascades one long weekend, Kevin started falling in love.

Having a long weekend to himself on the beautiful creatures would be just what the doctor ordered.

Eddy knew about this particular ranch from his leadership networking conferences and got Kevin a deal, and let him use his Uber Black membership to get a ride there and back provided Kevin didn’t steal any of the horses.

Once he laid eyes on the black stallion with blue eyes in the field behind his cabin, he knew he was gonna have a hell of a time keeping his promise to keep things on the ranch…

When he walked in the cabin, he was pleasantly surprised to see a shoebox on the bed of his favorite brand of riding boots.

“I wonder what color he got this time,” he chuckled to himself.

For the last five years, Edd would get him a new color of boots for his birthday.

“I think they’re green,” a voice coming from the bathroom said. “I don’t think I’ve gotten you green ones yet.”

Kevin doesn’t remember screaming but it took a good ten minutes for him to stop shaking after he scooped Edd in his arms and tossed him on the bed.

Once his heart beat returned to something resembling normal, he looked into sky blue eyes and frowned.

“You’re here.”

“Yes,” Edd chuckled and Kevin rolled his eyes as he sat up and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“And ruin the surprise?!” Edd laughed. “Nah.”

“What about work?”

Kevin knew Edd’s work was leading the charge to get the United States out of a pandemic it hadn’t seen the likes of in a good century. He just didn’t like the idea of Edd blowing it off, even if it was his birthday weekend.

“I can’t really do anything about it now,” Edd sighed, feeling a bit guilty about the slightly white lie. “It’s back to the lab techs to sort through the latest findings, so I can take a few days.”

“But just a few?”

“I’m sorry, Kevin,” Edd said softly as he rubbed his arm. “But we’ll make the most of it. I’ll even make dinner.”

Kevin’s stomach growling echoed around the quiet room in response to this as the dinner bell rang.

Dinner on the ranch was simple, you could take a picnic basket back to your cabin or have dinner in the open field off the side of the main house’s commercial kitchen. If you opted for the latter, there was a story time with one of the permanent ranch hands, embellishing the history of the ranch, as everyone ate at the huge picnic tables that circled a large fire pit.

Once the sun went down, the fire pit was lit, small brown paper bags filled with blocks of chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers were passed around, and more than a few ghost stories told.

But not a single twang of a banjo was heard, just the soft strumming of a six string guitar dueting with a low harmonica. And the low moo of a cow or two.

Kevin and Edd opted for dinner in the field as Kevin was eager to see the temperament of the horses before trying to pick which one to make his own over the long weekend, after which they fed a snack or two to the horses before they went to the barn for the night. Then it was s’mores and ghost stories with a lil stargazing and a nice, long leisurely stroll back to the cabin.

Kevin honestly didn’t want the night to end, even if his body was nearly begging him to sleep.

Edd’s wasn’t, though.

As soon as they walked in the door, Edd had him pinned against it, deftly locking the deadbolt with one hand, the other undoing Kevin’s pants.

And the breeze blowing through the valley gave Kevin his second wind.

Edd’s beanie was gone as fast as their shoes, they walked out of their pants as Kevin walked them backwards to the bed.

“God, why do you have to over dress so much?” Kevin whined as he undid the buttons on Edd’s shirt, thankful he hadn’t worn a tie.

“You look good, you feel good,” Edd huffed as he undid his cuffs and then batted Kevin’s hands away so he could pull his shirt over his head.

Kevin always thought he looked good, but he looked even better now with his dick in his mouth.

His hands ached as he grasped silky strands as dark as the night sky. The few silver highlights looked like stars, but Edd rather he see color bars.

Kevin squeezed his eyes tight, flashes of technicolor sparking with every jerk of his hips as he fucked his boyfriend’s face.

It seemed cruel, Edd grabbing his ass to take him all the way in, like he didn’t care that Kevin’s yearning and frustrations were aching his jaw, but he loved the man so much that it felt good to do this.

Right until Kevin tore himself away.

Edd sputtered but Kevin grinned.

“Stop your whining, Dork. I brought my chaps and my good sweats.”

“You are not riding in sweats and chaps,” Edd laughed as he shoved him on the bed and went to get his lube out of the bathroom.

“I do what I want!” Kevin protested. “It’s my birthday and I do what I want!”

“Your birthday isn’t until tomorrow and committing crimes against fashion shouldn’t be a birthday wish!” Edd cackled as he leaned against the door and juggled the silicone lube in his hands

“Well, riding your dick is, so get over here!”

Edd couldn’t argue because he really wanted Kevin to ride his dick. If he hadn’t been so shell shocked that he had shown up or so hungry or so eager to see the horses, he’d told him to hop on sooner.

But watching him finally relax and put the stress of work out of his mind was worth it.

Especially since what he had planned would knock him out for the rest of the night.

A ride would mean Edd would have to be on his back, at least to start, so while Kevin flipped their positions, Edd guided him to his side and told him to get his horse ready.

Kevin shrugged his shoulders and went to put his head between his legs, but he nearly choked when Edd started to work a finger in his ass. Edd nearly stopped, but Kevin popped his ass out and Edd’s finger went deeper as Kevin took as much of him in as he could.

“Fuck,” he softly moaned when Kevin spread his leg a bit more, gently massaging the joint where hip met thigh with one hand, using the other as an extension of his mouth.

It was hard to focus in a moment like this but Edd had plans.

And so did Kevin.

When he dropped the lube so he could add another finger in, Kevin snatched it up.

Edd figured he was gonna use it to slick him up and get the show on the road, as it were, but he cried out like a whore when Kevin put his mouth to the tip of his dick, spread his lower cheeks with his greased up hand and whispered, “Get to work.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

His mind was tearing apart at the seams while Kevin sucked him off and played with his ass. He held on by fingering him as fast and hard as he could.

Kevin liked it rough and it was his birthday weekend. The present from Edd’s strong right hand was AMAZING. The left one gently playing in his hair was sending goosebumps all over and when the A/C kicked on, Kevin nearly exploded as the added sensation of cool air on his hot body was absolutely enrapturing.

Edd must have been feeling the same way because he pushed Kevin’s head away from his cock with one hand, but the other grabbed his waist to make him come sit in his lap.

“C’mere.”

Then the room spun.

Well, Kevin thought it did til he realized Edd had spun him around to sit in his lap, but facing away from him and towards the mirror.

And Kevin had never seen Edd’s hands move so fast before.

He gripped the sheets as Edd lifted him up, spread his cheeks, and slowly but firmly pulled him full into his lap, filling him up with everything he had.

The stack of pillows on the bed gave him enough of a cushion to sit up, spread Kevin’s legs, and give the order.

“Ride. Me.”

The visual was mind blowing.

Kevin was flushed, glistening with sweat, his dick throbbing against his hard abs, and Edd wanted a show.

He moved against the fullness in him slowly, enjoying the electrifying numbness that spread all over his body. His fingertips reached for Edd’s hands that were caressing his chest, and that gapped tooth mouth sunk into his shoulder on a whine as he gently kissed his knuckles and started to ride him.

Hands were everywhere, in his hair, turning his face to kiss him senseless, gripping strong arms to hold onto some sense of reality, pawing at his abs, squeezing his chest, playing with his nipples to get him to moan like a slut so in touch with themselves that you can’t help but touch them like they want you to.

But they never broke their gaze in the mirror.

As Kevin lost control, his dick leaking with cum, Edd held on...to his dick.

“Fuck, yes Baby! Just like that!” Kevin screamed as he rode him harder, his movements putting porn stars to shame.

“You gonna cum for me?” Edd whispered and Kevin whined as he nodded, his hand reaching around to grab Edd’s hips to make him fuck him hard and senseless.

“Harder. Faster. Edd…,” his words came out disjointed, but he had to say something! “Dear God, pleeeeeease.”

The bed creaked as Edd pulled him close with one arm, stroked him off with his free hand, and jerked his hips as fast and hard as he could.

Watching the man in his lap jerk once, then twice as he came in his hand was so fucking sexy; jaw dropped, eyes wide in elated shock, legs kicking, both hands around Edd’s one that was stroking him into oblivion.

They had never done it like this before and Kevin wasn’t too sure he’d live til his actual birthday the next day if they kept it up. But he didn’t care. Seeing himself in the mirror like that, as the object of all of Edd’s desires was enough.

That orgasm, tho!

Edd checked his smartwatch then giggled.

“Happy birthday, Kevin.”

Kevin gave him a weak thumbs up as thanks while his thoughts slipped away.

He awoke the next morning, dressed in clean boxers, still slightly embarrassed Edd had to drag him to the bathroom and back again, but no shirt, hearing Edd whisper into his phone.

“Yes, Megan,” Edd said, “I got it all right in front of me. I’m going to see about making some moves later this week but I don’t see why I can’t do it from here.”

“Do what?” Kevin whispered confused and feeling nosy.

Edd squeaked when he noticed he was awake and then said, “I gotta go. I’ll call you Monday with my final answer.”

“Wha? Why are you working?! It’s my birthday!” Kevin pouted. “And that’s my shirt!”

Edd looked down at the shirt he was wearing.

It was an old Marine Corps PT t-shirt Kevin used to wear around Edd’s apartment out west. Actually, the red head left several of these t-shirts in Edd’s apartment when he moved back East and Edd would sleep in them often because it was his way of keeping Kevin close after he left.

“You left it in my house, so it’s mine now,” Edd grinned and Kevin’s ready to fight!

“Stupid dork with his stupid smile,” Kevin thought to himself knowing good and damn well that Edd was right.

“So!? It’s still my birthday,” he half pouted trying to figure out a way to get back at Edd for...working?

“It is,” Edd nodded as he got up to join him in the bed. “What would you like to do today?”

“For you to stop working,” Kevin snarked and Edd laughed.

“I am off til Monday,” he shrugged and Kevin honestly frowned, not that he wanted to talk about it but he did need to know.

“Do you have a ride to the airport?”

“More like,” Edd sighed and then let the words tumble out all at once as he stared holes into his hands, “Iwaswonderingifyouwantedaroommate.”

“Wha?”

“Well, I said-”

“I know what you said, Edd.”

Edd finally looked up at him and he doesn’t remember seeing Kevin ever looking this happy.

“Well, it’s just that, in order for things to keep progressing smoothly, they need a new lab director out here because Dr Stavian is retiring.”

“And they want you to come out and do it?” Kevin asked as he pulled him into his lap.

“Well, yes, but only as an interim because I don’t have my doctorate degree.”

“Yet.”

“Kevin.”

“It’s been like four years, Edd!”

Edd made a face because when he had run into Kevin again after so many years away, he was a year done with his masters program and didn’t have any desire to go back to school. He was just too burnt out.

Kevin figured he just needed a break because he had been in school the entire time he had known him. He couldn’t imagine him stopping forever.

“Listen,” Kevin told him as he gripped his twitching hands still, “You said that Justin said that they’d pay for it when you’re ready and apparently you don’t have much of a choice if you move back this way.”

“But I don’t want to lose you!” Edd protested and Kevin looked at him like he had two heads.

“HOW?!”

“School is an all consuming thing,” Edd sighed. “I can’t really focus on us if I have to go to class, then the lab, then work everyday for the next four years, at minimum.”

“You can if we live together.”

“Wait a min -”

Kevin laughed as he saw the wheels turn in Edd’s head and said, “You just asked if you could move in Mr DoYouNeedARoommate, like I’m gonna let my boyfriend just be my damn roommate. So how hard would it be if you went to school and we lived together?”

“You might have to move actually, because the commute from your place to the lab is like 45 minutes. Add in the campus and you’re looking at a good hour and a half.”

Edd thought he had him til Kevin shrugged and said, “So we move. Be closer to Ma that way anyways.”

“What about the shop?!”

“The further away I am from that place, the better,” Kevin laughed. “It’s one of the joys of being the boss. Besides, Johnny lives upstairs so he keeps the place in line. I just do paperwork.”

“Oh.”

Kevin smirked as all of Edd’s arguments died away.

They could make it work.

“We can do this, Edd,” Kevin said softly as he gave him Eskimo kisses. “Just go back to school and let me worry about the rest.”

“Especially since we ain’t paying for it!” Edd laughed and Kevin snorted.

“Damn straight.”

“I thought you were bi.”

“I’m about to bite that ass,” Kevin grinned but the breakfast bell rang and the smell of fresh bacon had to be indulged.

They took a picnic basket back to the cabin for lunch after their morning ride and used Kevin’s hotspot to look for apartments and houses to rent closer to the labs and university as the ranch’s free wifi was sketchy. A quiet neighborhood not too far from Kevin’s mother’s retirement community seemed the perfect place to start and Edd sent out a few online applications while Kevin made arrangements for dinner.

They rode the black stallion together to a grove of apple trees for a picnic at dusk and discussed the plans they made.

And make out like teenagers.

But the first mosquito bite had them racing back to the cabin as neither wanted to have any more awkward scratches in public than necessary after this trip.

They led the stallion back to his barn and walked slowly back to the cabin, Edd taking note of the constellations overhead.

They collapsed into the bed in a tight cuddle, worn out from their excursions for the day.

“You know, tomorrow is Saturday,” Edd said as they laid in the content silence.

If Edd was mentioning Saturday…

He didn’t know where Kevin got the birthday hat from, but it was a much better outfit than the sweats with chaps.

Especially when one needs to be ready for a day in bed with your homieloverfriend.

#kevedd #reg!kevedd #reg!kev #reg!edd #kevin barr #eddward vincent #for anybodihear me #happy birthday #birthday present #birthday fic

39 notes · View notes

gauntie-o-dimm · 4 years

Text

Dutch van der Linde | A Lesson About Ownership

Because a few members have been flirting with you during a heavy night of partying, Dutch has to set the record straight about to whom you belong.

Word count: 2900+ Warnings: Smut, swearing, alcohol abuse, semi-public sex

The air reeked of drink and testosterone and Dutch van der Linde didn’t like it one bit. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy a good drinking-fest every now and then, and he was very glad that Sean McGuire had returned to camp right in time before being turned in to the authorities by a bunch of bounty hunters. No, something else was irking him till no end - the fact that said Irishman was trying to get your attention in a rather affectionate way. How dare he, Dutch pondered, after all he had risked for him! Was that a way to thank your superior?

But Dutch didn’t intervene just yet. He knew that you were loyal to him and wouldn’t give in to Sean’s fruitless attempts of wooing you. You were too kind - just waving him off with a small laugh and a light-hearted rejection.

The ‘stached man just sat there at a table, one hand clenched around a bottle of whiskey, the other balled to a fist underneath his chin, teeth scraping against his knuckles in an attempt to keep his cool.

“Ah, enjoying some alone time, I see.” there was no sarcasm in Hosea’s words, but a tinge of humor lingered. Dutch looked up to face his best friend for a second, taking in a sharp breath. The silver fox followed his gaze, eyes falling onto you, who was currently being coaxed for a dance on the giddy tune of Uncle’s banjo - you didn’t give in.

“You know, she is right there and you are here sulking around. It’s not like there is nothing you can do. If anything, I’d say you were jealous.”

Dutch hated it that Hosea could see right through him - but they had been putting up together for decades, now.

Yes, he was very possessive of you, but Mr van der Linde would never - ever - let his envy get the better of him, right? Sure, he wished he was the one over there making you laugh about some stupid joke. There was nothing else that would bring him more joy than to guide you onto the dance floor (just a small patch of grass, really), but something that he never wanted to show was weakness.

“It’s just a dance, you know.” Hosea muttered, taking a swig from his beer. “It ain’t like people are going to judge you for it. For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t pass the opportunity to share another dance with my Bessie if she was still here. Spend time with the one you love while you still can, Dutch. She ain’t gonna stick around forever, and you know it. You’re not stupid, but I sincerely pray that you won’t make the same mistake again, like with miss O’Shea.”

Dutch’s teeth gritted together, ringed fingers playing with the half-empty bottle in front of him. He kept quietly observing the scene, a jealous pang shooting through his chest as he witnessed Bill joining in on the conversation, daring to put an arm around your shoulders in a friendly way - at least, that was what he was trying to make it look like.

No, Dutch van der Linde knew better - he had caught Mr Williamson staring at you several times. He didn’t like it at all that he was so close to you.

There was a change of tune, a song that would certainly make everyone want to dance - apart from Uncle with his chronic lumbago - and before Dutch could comprehend what was unfolding, you were already dancing with both Sean and Bill. Even though it was not a romantic dance to be shared between lovers only, Dutch felt a unpleasant twist in his stomach. Seeing you have fun with in one hand some beer and the other resting on Sean’s shoulder; something didn’t sit quite right with him.

Hosea stood with the notice of having to empty his full bladder, walking off towards the side of the camp and leaving Dutch to his thoughts. How long had the gang leader known you for? Seven years? Eight?

You were long part of the gang when Molly joined. He recalled how broken your eyes had looked when he introduced you to each other. It wasn’t until later that he realized why that had been the case. And yet, he found you difficult to fathom. You were still like this unreachable vixen that had been there with him for such a long time, he was your lover for at least a year now and still he barely knew anything about you. Or maybe Hosea had been wrong about him and Dutch was indeed stupid.

He tilted his chair backwards as he witnessed Bill resting his hands on your waist, trying to get you a little closer to him. The gang leader knew that said man was drunk and currently knew no boundaries, but it was all the more of a reason to keep a close eye on the situation. Karen had started hollering obscene things towards the two, yelling to rent a room in Saint Denis and have a hot foursome with both her and Sean, and that was the moment that something within Dutch snapped. Even the ladies around camp had forgotten who you truly belonged to.

With a thud, his chair fell to the ground. He didn’t bother picking it up as he took large strides over to you and Bill, who looked like they were getting pretty cozy.

“Hey Marion, get your filthy paws off my beloved!” he barked, immediately silencing the sound of Uncle’s instrument.

All eyes were on him now, and his were resting on Bill, who was gritting his teeth - Dutch knew how much he despised being called by his birth name. “It’s just a fucking dance, chief!” Bill spat back, breath reeking of drink and tobacco. Dutch visibly cringed, not knowing why on Earth you had enjoyed dancing with this vagrant.

“Dutch, love, we were just dancing.” you tried calming him down, putting a hand on his shoulder. He turned his gaze to you and you slightly gasped at what emotion was manifesting in his eyes. He was seething, grabbing your wrist firmly as he started to walk right through the crowd of gang members, pushing aside everyone in his way.

You couldn’t do anything else than follow like an obedient dog, trying to pry his fingers away from your arm. He got the hint, loosening it slightly. You weren’t the one wronging him after all.

“It seems that the lot of you have forgotten something quite important! I know that I always say: ‘What is mine, is yours.’ However, that does not, and I repeat it does not... Apply to partners, be it touching her, flirting with her, trying to get into her pants.”

Hosea had re-joined the ruckus and approached you and Dutch, trying to interrupt his speech by saying that Dutch was overreacting, but the gang leader didn’t give him the chance.

“(Y/n) here, she belongs to me and only me. She is my girlfriend, my beloved, and you must be reminded about that! No one touches her but me and I will make sure that you lot will never forget that. I am going to fuck her so nicely right now that she will sing my name until dawn, and all of you, all of you, are going to listen to me do it. Do I make myself clear?”

Hosea made a gesture towards young Jack, “But the boy.” Dutch momentarily eyed the young kid, rubbing his neck as he realized that he hadn’t taken him into account. From his pocket, he grabbed a wad of cash, throwing it towards Abigail, who was holding her hands over the child’s ears.

“You go to a nearby hotel, then, and keep the change for the inconvenience. The rest of you better open your ears really good.”

At least he had the decency to wait until Abigail had left camp with her son, and it was a moment for you to collect your thoughts. What was he going to do to you? And why was no one talking back? Dutch was respected, but you figured even Hosea couldn’t crack through his thick skull right now. Instead the older man was standing a bit away, his eyes locking with yours for a moment as he shook his head slightly. In return, you shot him a helpless look, and he let out a sigh. There was nothing to be done about it now.

You almost wanted to tell Dutch that you’d prefer it to go to a hotel room together instead, but you knew what he would say. How else would everyone hear that you belonged to him? You had to admit that the idea of it turned you on. The knowledge that in a few minutes you’d be whimpering underneath him made you clench your thighs together in excitement. As soon as the light of Abigails lantern was invisible from between the trees, Dutch turned to the remaining members. “So, don’t let me catch any of you turn away. Hosea, I trust that you will keep an eye out for me while I prove them something, alright?” “Absolutely not, Dutch! You’re being a disgusting weasel!”

If someone else had been yelling those things at Mr van der Linde, they would’ve certainly ended up with a bullet between their eyes. But it was his best friend, so instead Dutch took a deep breath before responding: “No, I am being reasonable! I need to teach them a little lesson about boundaries if someone is in a relationship.” “Well, I am certainly not going to contribute to those filthy concepts of yours. If someone around this camp knows no bounds, it is you!”

Dutch scoffed at Hosea before grabbing your arm again, taking you into his tent before pushing you onto his cot. The furs felt nice and slightly tickled your skin as you almost sunk away in them. Dutch turned to the opening in his tent and rolled down the flaps, tying them together firmly.

“Do you want a romantic tune to be played, boss?” you heard Uncles voice from outside of the tent, who had already resumed the strumming on his banjo. You had to prevent yourself from laughing.

“Shut the fuck up!” Dutch barked loudly while gripping the front of your dress, practically tearing off the buttons as he bared your breasts. You gasped, throwing his hat to the side before you went to tangle in his hair the very moment he wrapped his lips around one of your exposed nipples.

You arched your back into his mouth and he let out a low hum, roughly sucking on the small button that started to swell in his mouth. His moustache tickled, but you didn’t mind. The power behind his lips made your stomach tingle pleasantly when you realized what was in store for the rest of the night. “Don’t hide those pretty sounds for me, but you certainly shouldn’t do it for them. They need to hear you, remember? And I am going to fuck you as long as it takes to get through to these thick-headed mongrels!”

You whimpered at his words and the pressure his knee applied between your legs, your hips involuntary moving against him. “Look at you being all desperate. You love feeling me in you, don’t you, darlin’?” He slid his hands under your dress before taking it from you in a solid movement, leaving you in your bloomers alone.

He eyed your exposed body for a few moment, his hands moving to rest upon your stomach. He slid them down, peeling your underwear off of you, and so you laid, completely nude whilst he was fully dressed apart from his hat. It made you feel even more vulnerable underneath his touch.

Dutch gave an assuring smile, leaning down to press a few light kisses on your tummy and navel. You slightly whimpered, wriggling underneath his lips as he smirked, straddling your body, inching ever closer to your sex.

But right as he was about to press his tongue between your folds, he pulled back, undoing his belt and coaxing his erection from his briefs. It was a familiar sight and he beckoned you closer, immediately telling you what to do. And so you sat up, crawled towards him and took him in your hand. You collected some saliva in your mouth before letting a dollop of it fall onto his tip, covering his length in it as he grew stiff and ready for you.

You moved your tongue around the head of his cock, catching the first few drops of his excitement from the slit on the top. Momentarily, he let you press a few open-mouthed kisses over the base before letting his hand slide in your hair, rings becoming tangled in the (h/c) locks. He grunted and rolled his hips forward, pushing himself past your slightly parted lips, forcing you to take him whole.

You slightly gagged, closing your eyes when tears appeared in the corners of them. Trying to keep a steady breathing, you swallowed around him, ignoring the lack of oxygen as you started to move your head. Dutch let out a moan, accompanied by a sound that came from you when he slid in even deeper and hit the back of your throat. It was wanton and saturated of lust. Everyone could hear you choking on his cock and the man in question loved every second of it.

It was nearly as if you could feel their embarrassed eyes burn through the cloth of the tent, but the publicity of the act taking place only added to the sensation. You just hoped that the outlines of your bodies wouldn’t be projected like a shadow by the light of the candles around you. But then, if it were indeed visible...

Your lover took two fistfuls of you hair and without any kind of warning, he started fucking your face. The sudden change of events made your airways become restricted. The fact that were looking more disheveled by the second

You let out a gagging sound, for a moment believing you would either pass out or throw up, but Dutch pulled himself from your mouth, leaving you gasping for air, several tendrils of saliva connecting you to his swollen cock, tears and snot dribbling down your face. He smirked at you, rubbed some spit off your chin and gestured towards the bed. You obeyed, laying down and spread your legs for him.

For a moment, he lingered above you, taking off the remaining pieces of clothing that were still on your body. His skin was hot against yours, and as he pushed himself in, you moaned at the contact. He settled his arms next to both sides of your head and kissed you for a moment.

“Love,” Dutch spoke softly, “You better don’t hold in those sounds, understand?”

You nodded, letting out a whimper as he began thrusting into you. Even though his movements were demanding, the sounds slipping out of you were sincere. You wrapped your legs around him, slowly unraveling underneath him. And Dutch’s eyes, they never left your face for a second, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips as he fastened his pace, the cot starting to creak underneath the force.

And with the increase of his thrusts, so did your breaths become uneven. You were sure that the gang members that had walked away in disgust could hear you on the other side of camp, including the person who was currently on night watch, even though you couldn’t remember if it was Javier or Charles, but it didn’t matter. What mattered is that you sang for Dutch, quivering under the weight of his body, inner walls clamping around him desperately.

Would he make you beg for your release? You murmured his name, letting it slip from your tongue like silk, only loud enough for him to hear. Something in his face changed, the possessiveness he had been mustering for minutes soon vanished like a thin layer of snow in the searing sunlight. He looked at you with complete adoration in that moment, before returning to his original, claiming self.

“You’re mine, (Y/n)!” he grunted loudly, “Mine and mine alone!” “Yes, Dutch!” “Say it! Tell me to whom you belong!” “I belong to you, Dutch! Forever! I love you! Only you!”

And that was all he needed to hear to push you over the pleasurable edge of an orgasm. He was quick to follow soon, not even asking if he could spill himself in your depths. Your body arched into him and a whimper left your throat as he pulled himself out of you, seed dribbling down your thighs, and he allowed you to finish your orgasm with his index finger tightly pressed onto your clit.

Dutch got up, passing you a clean piece of cloth that he had slightly dampened. He kissed your forehead swiftly before reaching for his boxers. “Stay here, (Y/n).” he ordered, and of course you did as he said. Not that you could walk right now, anyway.

He quickly threw it on before quickly slipping outside of the tent to see who truly was still watching. You heard his voice, muffled by the flaps of the tent yet audible enough to pierce through your bones like a knife through butter.

��Is it now fucking clear to whom she belongs?!” You could only imagine the flustered faces of the ones that were standing there. “If it isn’t, you should let me know. If anything is vague to your lot, just let me know. I don’t mind proving it to you again.”

#dutch van der linde #x reader #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption x reader #rockstar #dutch van der linde x reader

82 notes · View notes

ozarkhealingtraditions · 4 years

Text

Winter Solstice in the Ozarks

Solstice traditions are hard to find in the Ozarks apart from some signs of upcoming winter weather, but it’s a time of the year I’ve tried reviving in my own life. On this day we celebrate the dying and reviving of the Sun, the vital life force of our lives. Ancient traditions would have been centered on celebration, especially through bringing together of harvested foods for feasting and the all important terrestrial representation of the Sun in the fire.

Personal Purification

I gather purifying plants like red cedar (Juniperus virginiana) throughout the year for use in healing work. The winter solstice is a time of cleansing and preparing the body for the upcoming year. This is most often performed with smoke and water. I always try and make a fire, however small, to which I offer boughs of dried red cedar and tobacco, both solar in nature. The smoke cleanses off the worldly weights carried throughout the year. To this I add a bath made from red cedar, of course, tobacco, a few varieties of the Monarda genus (for loosening ties with draining spirit entities), as well as rabbit tobacco (Pseudognaphalium obtusifolium) which can also be smoked as an aid to protection work.

A tradition added to the corpus of knowledge in the Ozarks from the indigenous peoples of the southeast (including Cherokee, Yuchi, Muskogee, and others) is that all the evergreens hold immense power because of their ability to stay awake during all the days of creation. This time of the year we bring in our evergreen friends to bless our homes and we use their smoke to fumigate our bodies as an act to bolster ourselves for upcoming trials of the new year.

Food Traditions

The winter solstice is a time of feasting, a tradition that has been moved to Christmastime, but one I keep on the solstice as well. The past few years I’ve taken to making one of my favorite treats, mincemeat. It’s a combination of ingredients from the recent harvest like apples and pears, as well as dried fruits gathered earlier in the year. For me it’s a perfect representation of nourishment and renewal. It brings together all the elemental representations of earth, in the form of fruits, of air by the steam of cooking, the fire through baking, and water by the addition of liqueurs, especially brandy. Together this amalgam of ingredients staves off hunger and warms the body, an important remedy in Ozark folk healing to prevent the winter chills to come.

Folklore

There’s a story I always like to tell this time of the year. One with no doubt many hidden meanings for those with ears to hear. It’s on of the Jack tales, focused on the solar figure of Jack, a trickster and wizard in his own right, who in this tale represents the Sun, (the warmth of hearth and home) overcoming the encroaching power of winter and the dreaded cold. Storytelling was an important past time in the winter. With the short days and cold weather, hillfolk would spend a lot longer indoors. This was time for home crafts like sewing, carving tool handles, and telling tall tales.

“Jack and the Stranger”

Once upon a time Jack was visiting his kinfolks down in Greenbrier Holler. Every year, at the winter solstice, Jack’s aunt and uncle would have a big party at their cabin to fight off the cold, and they would have all the families from the holler over for a night of eatin’ and dancin’ and general merriment. Well the much anticipated night rolled around again and Jack’s aunt and uncle’s cabin was full of kin and friends from all around the hills. Despite the snow and bitter cold a band showed up to play, and folks were dancin’ and having a good ole time when all of a sudden a knock comes at the door. Jack went over and opened the door and an old man stood there holding a banjo in one hand and an old rucksack in the other. “How do sir?” The old man asked. “Couldn’t be better if I was in a barrel of gold!” Jack replied. “If you would permit me,” the old man said, “I’d play you this here banjo for some food and a bed to rest my head? Well Jack was the kind of person that would give a polecat a bed to sleep in, so he brought the old man into the cabin, sat him down by the fire, and loaded him up a plate of beans and cornpone. “Everyone!” Jack yelled, “Our guest is gonna play us a song.”

The crowd quieted down while the old man warmed the skin of the banjo beside the fire. He strummed a few notes then started playing just about the prettiest song Jack had ever heard. Well pretty soon Jack was starting to feel sleepy. “It must have been the good food and good dancin’.” He thought to himself. So he leaned himself up against the wall to listen to that pretty ballad plucked by their guest. “I’ll just shut my eyes a spell.” He thought, and as his eyes closed he saw everybody else in the room start laying out on beds and couches and some people were flat out on the wood floor. Everyone hushed up and started dozin’ off. The old man sang some words, but Jack could barely make them out: This song I…yer head…fine…yer house…yer gold… Jack woke up suddenly to the smell of a fire, and looking around folks were in a tizzy running out of the smoke filled cabin. Jack jumped up and ran out into the yard with the rest of his folks. It was broad daylight outside, “We must have slept through the night!” Jack said to his aunt. Jack’s uncle said it must have been that stranger that they’d invited in, but Jack and his aunt hushed the man sayin’ it was always bad luck to turn away a stranger. A year passed by and the party night was here already. Jack and his kinfolks had lit the bonfires and were celebrating with plenty of food and dancin’ in his aunt and uncle’s brand new cabin. Just as Jack started dancin’ with pretty Margaret from up the holler, a knock came at the door to the cabin. Jack rushed over and there standing in the doorway was an old beggar woman carrying a reed flute in one hand and a worn out potato sack in the other. “A fine night sir!” The old woman said. “A fine night!” Jack replied. “If you would permit me,” the old woman said, “I’d play you this here flute for some food and a bed to rest my head?” Despite the protests from Jack’s uncle, he invited the old woman inside the cabin, sat her down by the fire, and loaded her up a plate of beans and cornpone. “Everyone!” Jack yelled, “Our guest is gonna play us a song.” The old woman took out her long reed flute and started playing the prettiest melody Jack had ever heard. Pretty soon he and the other guests were plumb tuckered out and everyone took a seat on chairs or on the floor. Some lay out under blankets, others piled up in the corners of the cabin, pretty soon everyone was fast asleep. The old woman started to sing some words, but again Jack could barely make them out: This song I…yer head…fine…yer house…yer gold… Jack woke up to a similar scene as he had the year before. The cabin was all full of smoke and everyone was running around like headless turkeys trying to get out of the place. Out in the yard Jack’s uncle was a-ravin’ and a-rantin’ about the stranger they’d dare let into their house again. Jack’s aunt hushed the man up telling him that no one should be left out in the cold. Well Jack helped his aunt and uncle build their cabin again for a whole year. They were fast approaching the party night and Jack was sure to not let anything bad happen this time. So he went up the holler to old Mr. Green’s cabin. Everyone said that old Mr. Green was a witch but nobody ever dared call him that, and Jack always figured the man was probably just more wise to the ways of the world than anybody else was. Jack told the old conjurer about what had happened the last two years and Mr. Green told him not to worry then handed him an old hatchet. “What’s this for?” Jack asked. “Jack,” Mr. Green replied, “you make sure your aunt and uncle has their party, and when that beggar comes to the house you let them in, feed them, set them there by the fire, and when they play their song you hold that hatchet up to your head and it will make sure you won’t fall asleep, but you have to close your eyes and act like you’re asleep like the others.” Jack took the axe and knew exactly what he had to do. He rushed back to his aunt and uncle’s cabin and set them to cleaning and cooking for the party they were sure to have that evening. Around midnight and everyone was a-rompin’ and a-dancin’ and having the nicest time, when there come a knock at the door to the cabin. Jack rushed over and there in the doorway stood a little orphan child with a fiddle in one hand and a handkerchief sack in the other. “Please sir,” the child said in a soft voice, “if you’d let me, I’d play you this here fiddle for some food and a bed to rest my head?” Jack just smiled and brought the child into the house. He sat him right there by the fire, and gave him plenty to eat just like Mr. Green had said, then quieted everyone in the cabin down. “Go ahead and play somethin’ fer us.” Jack said. The orphan boy took out his fiddle and started playing the nicest, prettiest song any of them had ever heard, and as the crowd started getting sleepier and sleepier Jack quickly sat down over on one wall and hid himself behind some flour sacks. He held the hatchet up to his head and even though he had his eyes closed he didn’t fall asleep like the others. Pretty soon the boy began to sing and this time Jack heard the words: This song I play, That you may lay Yer head on a piller fine. Yer house is nice, You’ll pay the price, For all yer gold is mine! When the boy was finished playing Jack opened his eyes just a little bit to see him taking off his skin like it was a coat, and there underneath was a strange feathery critter with a face like a possum, with hands like owl claws, and feet like two goat legs. The critter quickly set to gathering up all the coins and jewelry from the pockets of the guests asleep and snoring there on the floor. Then Jack saw him go over to where his uncle hid all the family loot tucked in behind a rock on the mantle and he pocketed that too! Jack quietly got to his feet and crept up behind the critter while he was busy stuffing all the money and gold into his handkerchief sack. And just as the beast was about to spit fire out and burn the cabin down Jack went SWISH! SWISH! with the hatchet a cut the critter’s head clean off. The next morning Jack’s aunt and uncle and all their kinfolks started waking up and much to their surprise the sun was shining and the cabin was still in one piece. “This year’s party,” Jack’s uncle said, “was a mighty success I reckon!” And Jack’s aunt asked him where’d their stranger had gone to, but Jack just told her that the boy had played and played before Jack let him sleep up in the loft, then, this morning, a nice preacher and his wife came and took the boy to live at their house. To this day Jack never did mention that strange critter to his aunt and uncle, never did say nothing about talking to Mr. Green, nor about the magic hatchet.

“Best not worry them.” Jack thought to himself.

#ozarks #folklore #folk magic #traditional witchcraft #winter solstice #traditional medicine #traditional healing #ozark folk medicine #Ozark Folklore #ozark folk magic #ozark folkways #ozark healing traditions

75 notes · View notes

subukunojess · 4 years

Text

Banjo Blues

A Secret Satan Gift for @lt-lemonade

I am sorry this is so late, but a lot of personal issues were going on at the time along with my studies and I wanted to write a good drabble for you! They requested either a drawing or a fanfiction with several prompts and I picked:

“Wally X Sammy- Sammy singing him a song on his banjo”

I decided to get into practice with my BATIM fanfiction by using my Wally and Sammy from my Ink Gluttony AU. Might redesign or add more detail on them on a later date. It’s a nice ship and I tried to convey it as much as possible while also keeping into their character. Also wanted to try out a few concepts as well. I hope you like it and if you’d like more or if you want me to change anything feel free to ask!

By the way, the song that Sammy sings to Wally, I borrowed the melody from a cut Little Shop of Horrors song because it was the only song I could think of that’ll fit Wally’s bounce. It’s on YouTube and if you’d like a link, I’ll provide it!

Without further ado, here is the drabble under the cut! I hope you enjoy.

For Samuel Lawrence, Joey Drew Studios was chaotic and mundane at the same time. Work was much more simple in the early years. Back then, it was a small studio with only a few employees in charge of their own section. Henry drew the cartoons, Joan would help Henry with drawing and writing up ideas, Norman was in charge of projectors, Sammy himself was in charge of music, Wally would clean up the studio, random people would show up to help out here in there including some repair man named Tom, and then Joey Drew would oversee them all while sticking his nose on everything he could.

But now? Now things were much bigger. More complex. It wasn't until recently that Sammy found out he was more content with the old set-up even though he would have said otherwise in the past. He'd stay in his designated room, writing and playing his music for the studio until a bigger musical opportunity showed up for him. Needless to say, it didn't. When he got his own spacious department along with an entire orchestra at his command, Sammy was thrilled that Drew saw his full potential. What he didn't count on was the increased work load. Or the incompetent workers. Or the excessive amount of questionable ink. Or a little ink demon running around. Or a number of other things that made the man pull his brown hair out.

It was just another night at the studio in New York City. Some of the employees stayed overtime to make ends meet. By some, it meant a few animators, writers, and Sammy especially. Sammy walked out of his office, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief to clean some of the ink away. He sighed. The amount of ink Joey provided seemed to increase every year and it was getting everywhere from toilets to instruments to his very office. He'd complain out loud another time. For now, Lawrence wanted to check on his instruments to inspect the day's damages. Sluggish, he trudged down the hallway before turning to what he dubbed the orchestra room, only to stop and stare as he found someone sitting by a piano.

It was a familiar red-haired man with overalls and a light brown cap on, his chestnut, blank eyes staring at the keys below. His shoulders were leaning against his lap as he slowly pressed against one of the keys with a finger, letting out a soft sigh.

Out of all the fools Sammy had ever met in the studio, none of them took the cake like Wally Franks did. Figuratively and literally. Whether it'd be losing his keys, slipping on ink down the hallways, or attempting to eat Sammy's chocolate cake, the young man was quite the cheerful handful. At least for Sammy. To see the sole janitor in such a somber state unnerved him, however.

"Wally, what are you doing? Are you feeling well?" Sammy asked, his voice croaked with at least some concern. Instead of jumping in reaction like Wally would normally do whenever someone was talking to him, the man turned his head to glance at the music director standing behind him. Sammy could see slight bags under his eyes as if he had aged along with the studio.

"Nothin' much, Sammy. I'm just missin' ol' Bubba, that's all." He shrugged, going back to plunking the piano keys. "Jay and Tom says he's gonna be sick for a while. I know he needs ta get betta, but things are gettin' tough around here. Ya know what I'm saying?"

Sammy sat down on the bench next to Wally with a nod. "Ah, yes. That's what you call Bendy. I haven't seen him as of late. And things are always tough here, both in and out of the studio."

"Yeah, but not like this! No one's smiling anymore. All everyone does is rush off and complain. I know some of it's hard work, but we're makin' cartoons for people for cryin' out loud! We're supposed ta be smilin' and laughin'!" Wally threw his arms up in the air, before dropping them to his side. "I dunno... wheneva' I'm with Bubba, we always cheer each otha up. Maybe I'm startin' ta lose hope..."

As Sammy listened in, he felt something tug at his chest. Guilt? Sympathy? Whatever it was, he knew that he didn't like seeing Wally in this state. Plus, Sammy wasn't much of a people or feeling person. He communicated well with music. And it was then that an idea popped up in his head. Telling the other to wait a moment, Sammy got up and went across the room to retrieve his banjo, his favorite, personal instrument. He dragged a stool as well to sit in front of Wally, placing his banjo in position and tuning it. Once it was tuned, Sammy's fingers pressed against the strings when he froze.

What kind of song should he play?

One of Sammy's talents was analyzing a person for a period of time and figuring out what kind of song would they be. What type of instrument and tempo. At the moment, however, he didn't know what type of song to play. He knew this piece called for something to say, but he didn't know what.

He wasn't much for lyrics like Jack Fain, but it was worth a shot to improvise. Sammy wasn't much for prayers either, but there was a first time for everything.

Please, if there is a Lord up there, help me with the right words to say, Sammy prayed in his mind as he closed his eyes. His fingers rested on top of the strings as he slowed his breathing. Suddenly, he felt a presence in the back of his mind that had seeped in from nowhere. It was warm and familiar. He started strumming on his banjo and opened his eyes, his emerald eye changed into a blazing orange while the blue one remained intact.

"When it's time to sweep up the inkwells, who is Bendy's pal?" Sammy sang as he strummed the strings, taking a pause as he looked to Wally, seeing if he would respond. He was met with a couple of blinks in the eyes.

Sammy continued playing, "When it's time to pick up the damn keys, who is there to raise our morale?"

As the music director's song became much more vibrant, Wally's eyes widened as he listened to the words and music. It was bouncy. It was unpredictable. It was... about him? The janitor must have died because Sammy would never make up a song for anyone, especially him. Eager to listen more, Wally sat up in attention.

"In this place of demons and big smiles, here's who you give thanks." Sammy was getting the hang of it now, a smile growing on his face as he leaned forward to Wally with eyes that seemed to glow with life. "Not Alice Angel and Boris, too. Not Tom or Norman or Joey Drew. You tip your hat to the bumbling wonder of Wally Franks!"

He paused for a good minute, then added, "And then Bendy, Alice, and Boris pop up and sing 'Wally, Wally, Wally Franks'!" Sammy tried to imitate Bendy's voice as best he could, tilting his head from side to side as he ended the song sticking his tongue out.

At that, Wally burst into rolling laughter and fell off of the bench, holding his own sides as his freckled cheeks turned cherry red. Sammy blushed as well, averting his gaze to the side as his orange eye faded back to green. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

"Oh gee, that was great! Ya sound almost like Bubba! Nice voice for 'im!" Wally continued to laugh until his sides hurt, then he gradually breathed and sat up. "How did ya come up with them words anyways?"

"I don't know." Sammy shrugged with honesty as he lifted his banjo a bit in thought. "It just came to me like that." The janitor slowly stood up and wiped a tear away from his eye before placing a hand on Sammy's shoulder.

"Well, whateva' it is, I like it! You should smile more, Sammy. It suits ya!" He patted his shoulder, then tipped his own hat. "Thanks for the song. Ya made me feel betta. I gotta go make sure there ain't too much spills around. I'm outta here!" Wally then left with a wave in his hand and a smile on his face.

Sammy Lawrence watched him leave the room with a dumbfounded stare, his cheeks still blushing in awe. Wally really was a wonder. He placed his banjo down, then wiped his face to inspect the ink. To his shock, the stains in the palm of his hand were glowing a dull orange. He felt the familiar presence sitting in his mind as if looking in. The music director blinked and glanced up at the ceiling.

"... Bendy?"

#Bendy And The Ink Machine #fanfiction #drabble #SNJwrites #gift #ltlemonade #lt lemonade #Secret Satan #secret santa #BATIM #Wally Franks #Sammy Lawrence #SNJstories #Bendy #ahhhhhhh I can't believe I finished this #I hope this is okay #First time writing for Wally and the ship

34 notes · View notes

elysianrey · 5 years

Text

what could be as lonely as love?

[part two of it’s a slow cinnamon summer. read part 1]

(a/n: Y’ALL. I JUST DELETED THE ORIGINAL POST. I’m so mad at myself... if you liked this or reblogged it sometime yesterday or today...feel free to do it again. The feedback i’ve gotten has honestly been the best. You guys are amazing. I will try to get part 3 up tomorrow. xoxo Content T+)

In the weeks following the secret lake party, Josie decided to throw a small get together at her house for their group of friends. Although Anne did not necessarily consider herself a friend of Josie’s, Ruby had begged and pleaded in the wake of Diana’s absence, especially since Moody was going to be there, and the two had been spending an awful lot of time together. Ruby was convinced that it would only be a matter of days before they officially began courting. Anne could find it within herself to be grateful that Ruby had given up her lifelong pining of Gilbert, however, the reasons why were still not entirely clear to her.

But she knew it had something to do with that night at the lake, where she was beginning to see him as potentially more than a friend. And it frightened her.

Josie spared no expense in ensuring her friends had plates of food and many glasses of punch to help them enjoy the midsummer evening. After one glass, Ruby was giggling uncontrollably at a joke Moody had made and by glass two she was sobbing hysterically at a song he was strumming on his banjo.

This was when she understood exactly just what kind of beverage this punch had in it, and she took it upon herself to drink enough until the movements of her body felt looser and her mind was a little less sad. Marilla trusted her judgement and Anne had grown far wiser when it came to drinking alcohol since the day when Diana and her consumed a whole bottle of raspberry cordial. She smiled reminiscently at the memory as she swirled the orange liquid in her glass and finished the rest with a silent toast to her bosom friend, hoping that she was savoring her time in France.

Deciding she had enough of the girls’ dramatics, Anne slipped outside of the house into the clear, July evening that she was fixed on enjoying properly.

She found herself trailing delightedly through the Pye’s enormous garden, the scent of blooming roses wafting through the twilight air and encompassing her slightly buzzed senses. Giggling lowly, she closed her eyes and attempted to follow the direction of that glorious smell with solely the use of her nose. She reached her arms out to feel for the delicate texture of a petal as she continued further into the maze of tall bushes.

“Where, oh where, are you my lovely friends?” she called out joyfully into the nature surrounding her. For the most part, she was doing well to avoid running into the walls of bushes, but occasionally she walked headlong into one and had to use her vision by slightly squinting open one eye to redirect her path. The several glasses of punch she drank with her classmates seemed to be helping her discover the world in a new light tonight and she could not resist feeling grateful for it.

Eventually, her fingers found the source of her elation, and she knew she had made her discovery when she felt not only the feather-soft, smoothness of rose petals, but also the prickly thorns that accompanied them. Gasping from the slight ache on her pointer finger from the unexpected sharpness, Anne let her eyes drift open fully to appreciate the hundreds of red blooms that lay before her.

“Ah, there you are,” she grinned cheerily, sticking her finger in her mouth to stop the small drop of blood that had formed. “You are especially marvelous tonight with your velvety red petals and deliciously smelling perfume.” She dropped her hand to glide along the tops of the flowers and revelled in their feel.

“Anne?”

The girl heard her name, yet her jubilant ministrations on the rose bushes continued.

“Anne is that you?”

Pausing this time, she turned slowly to face the owner of the curious, low voice. Before her sat Gilbert Blythe, glass of punch in his hand, resting comfortably on an elegant wired bench that was almost humorously too petite for his large, broad form. At this realization, Anne let out an amused laugh, her mind still rather loose from the alcohol she had consumed.

Gilbert’s eyebrow raised in perplexity, his eyes looking bright and content in the dimming evening air. The side of his mouth quirked upwards, revealing half of a smile, as Anne’s laughter began to grow louder and harder until she was clutching her side in a desperate attempt to keep herself from toppling onto the green ground.

“Oh Gilbert,” Anne choked, tears streaming down her cheeks as she choked for air. “I--you--” she attempted again, pushing the falling tendrils of coppery hair back from her face. “That bench you’re sitting on--it looks as it could nearly topple in half at any moment.” If only her brain would have allowed her to consider the words coming out of her mouth…

“Anne Shirely-Cuthbert,” Gilbert chuckled, quite entertained at this girl before him. “Are you calling me fat?” His face broke into a wide, dimpled smile that Anne could not help but saunter toward slightly, her feet moving on their own accord.

“I would never,” she playfully gasped, stopping directly in front of him so that she could get a better look at his dapper features. This was the happiest she had seen him look in a long time, and she wondered if it had anything to do with the drink in his hand. It had certainly aided in lowering her inhibitions. “I am positive that your big ego could do that all on it’s own.”

His face twisted into a mock expression of hurt and Anne’s laughter returned, a melodious tune ringing in his ears. “My ego may never return to the size it once was after a remark like that, Anne,” he grinned, his eyes staring fondly into hers. He brought his glass up to his lips for another sip of his drink.

Anne watched as his lips curled around the rim of the glass, an unwelcome heat forming in the pit of her stomach. These were not details about him she would usually notice and she tried her best to redirect her line of thinking onto something less romantical.

“Do you know what I’ve always wanted to do, Gil? Touch your hair,” she gingerly stated. Great, Anne. That was just the perfectly normal comment to say to someone who was definitely not your romantic partner.

She watched his shoulders tense and the lighthearted expression on his face faltered enough for her to notice. “Anne,” he replied in a tone that denied everything his body had already told her. “How many drinks have you had tonight?”

Anne crossed her arms, irritation building in her chest. For him to think that she needed to be drunk to say something like she wanted to touch his hair. The nerve. “Why is it of your concern? I’ll have you know that I am entirely in control of my thoughts and actions, thank you very much,” came her terse response.

He glanced away from her, not buying into what she had told him, however, he would not dare tell her that for he was a bit tipsy himself.

Anne waited crossly until he finished the drink in his hand, which he was gulping down this time. No longer caring that she would later regret a majority of the choices she was going to make from this point forward, the freckled girl stared boldly at him gulp down his drink, his adam’s apple bobbing, wanting nothing more than to prove him wrong.

The heat in the pit of her stomach had returned, and was growing until she could feel it everywhere. Her whole body was hot and it was all because of him. The handsome boy in front of her with his deep, warm eyes that constantly brought reassurance in her moments of doubt, the spotted beauty marks on his face that she wished to count and connect to form new constellations, and that hair. His dark, wild head of curls that folded in every direction, and had been tempting her to reach out and run her fingers through for weeks now. The jealousy she had felt all because of those water droplets that had clung to it that night.

When he turned his head back toward her, he seemed to pick up on the newfound intensity in her sparkling blue eyes. He rivaled her dark scrutiny with a matching expression of his own.

“So may I?” she asked once again, her chin tilting up to signal that she was not going to relinquish this quest.

“Fine.” His retort was clipped and unfeeling, which left Anne further annoyed that he was acting childish about simply granting her this one wish.

Normally, she was not the selfish type. She was always ready to leave her work at the drop of a hat and run off to help someone in need. But not today. No, in this secluded section of Josie Pye’s garden, filled up on a little too much spiked punch, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was bound and determined to get her way.

She sealed the distance between them, inching forward until her knees brushed against his. Despite the fabric separating them, her skin burned hot enough that she almost stumbled backward. Quickly steadying herself, she reached out a tentative hand that ghosted along the side of his head. Anne was trying her hardest not to look at Gilbert for she had a sinking suspicion that she would know exactly what she would see if she looked into his eyes. Her hand trembled as she moved her fingertips ever so slowly along the tips of his hair.

Then she brought her fingers into his curly locks and he let out a small gasp of pent up air that she feared had come from her mouth instead because as she touched his hair lightly with one hand, her heart nearly exploded out of her chest cavity in trepidation. His silky strands were everything that she imagined and more. It was as if she were running her hands along the tall wildflowers that grew in the fields near Green Gables. She began to lightly twist a finger around a strand and she watched as it coiled gracefully to her request and then bounce back to its original form. However, one hand coursing through his luscious, sleek hair was not enough for her, and Anne raised her other hand to continue her analysis. As that hand landed on his head, Gilbert’s hands were suddenly grabbing ahold of her waist.

Anne immediately froze, her tender exploration coming to a halt as she inhaled sharply at the contact. She looked straight ahead at the green shrubbery before her and her fuzzy brain wondered if he was going to let go. He did not. Yet she would be a liar if she tried to deny that she didn’t enjoy the slight pressure his large hands were currently presenting on her waist. Reluctantly removing her hands from his hair, she brought them down to hover on top of his hands instead, still not meeting his gaze.

That’s when she heard a whisper, barely loud enough for her ears to register, and quite desperate, “Anne.”

And for the second time that evening, the copper-haired girl was selfish and finally gave in to what she wanted, no matter how insane the desire was, her blood pumping furiously throughout her body with courage. Closing her eyes, she swiftly pressed her lips against his, sunbursts of light exploding behind her eyelids. A noise of shock bubbled out of Gilbert’s throat at first, then he was pulling her closer to him and her body was wedged between his legs quite scandalously, but when had she ever been one to care about what society deemed as proper?

Here she was, heatedly kissing the most beautiful boy she had ever met, and he was returning her advances with all of the passion and fervor she had ever dreamed of. His lips were slightly chapped, however they felt nearly as soft as his hair that her fingers had returned to, and when she pulled at it, a low moan reverberated in the back of his throat, and Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was confident that Gilbert Blythe was going to be the reason for her undoing.

Finally pulling back, Gilbert leaned his forehead against hers and looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes. “Anne-girl,” he murmured breathlessly, a hand coming up from her waist and caressing the freckles on her cheek with his knuckles. Anne’s heart soared from hearing his affectionate nickname spoken from his lips in such a delicate manner. “I think you’ve made your point,” he added with a quirk of his lips.

“Hmm...I’m not sure I have,” she teased lightheartedly, tugging again at the dark strands, which prompted Gilbert to go in for another stolen kiss. She ended it quickly though by pulling away from his embrace from where he sat on the bench and taking a distancing set away from him. “We should be getting back to the house. It’s getting late.” Her mind felt like it was becoming clearer. Anne would have tried to walk back by herself, but the game she had made up to find the roses had ultimately left her lost in this garden.

Gilbert could not help hiding the look of disappointment that crossed his face at her abrupt request after the moment they had shared. He rose and offered her his arm, which she accepted graciously with a placid smile, and they started in the direction from which they initially came in silence, neither seeming to know quite what to say.

“If I behaved immodestly--” she blurted out anxiously, keeping her eyes directed toward the ground. Now that the alcohol was wearing off, rational Anne, who knew how to behave in the presence of a boy, a friend, was returning.

The boy walking beside her let out an incredulous huff. “You didn’t Anne and if I did anything to lead you---”

“Absolutely not Gil,” Anne broke in vigorously, lifting her eyes to meet his with a calm assurance. As much as it pained her to say it, she added, “I think I just need some time to think and process some of the events that conspired tonight.”

Gilbert’s voice sounded tight as he hollowly agreed, “Yes, of course.” This did not do much to aid the guilt she felt in the pit of her stomach during the rest of the walk to the house.

He did not say a word and neither did she.

+++++

The journey back to Green Gables with him by her side was just as quiet and tense, which was very unlike them. Usually they talked far beyond their arrival at the front gate of her home, to the point where Marilla was calling for Anne to come inside the house. Tonight, Gilbert gave her a brief ‘Goodnight’ and turned in the opposite direction toward the Blythe Farm. Anne stood at the gate, watching him go until she could no longer see his broad outline, her throat feeling exceptionally dry. Not like when his lips had been dragging along hers only hours prior. She briefly considered shouting out to him and working to talk this whole situation out. Explain that she had wanted it to happen so badly. Yet he had shut himself off to her because she had hurt him by not saying more.

Here it was, the regret. She was a foolish girl, Marilla was right.

Sighing loudly, Anne opened the gate and made her way into Green Gables. She had assured Matthew and Marilla that she would be alright without them waiting up for her tonight so they were fast asleep in their beds.

When she got to her room, she shut the door quietly and flopped down on her bed, biting down on her bottom lip, hard, in an effort to keep the tears welling up in her eyes from spilling. It was no use. All she could picture was Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert. The way his mouth tasted, how he made every nerve in her body act on their own accord, the noises he made because of her.

She knew sleep would be futile tonight.

#anne with an e #awae #shirbert #shirbert ff #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #anne x gilbert #anne with an e season 3 #no spoilers here though #i'm an utter idiot #thank you for being gracious #ellie writes

62 notes · View notes