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cowboyfromh3ll · 1 year ago

Note

you said to do headcannons right?

can you do sex headcannons for the members of the gang? Only ones you're comfortable with obv. Personally, I don't care much for Micah (I want to set him on fire) so feel free to leave him out if you don't feel like writing for him

But the usual Dutch, John, Javier, Arthur, Charles, and anybody else you feel like are just perfect. I love your writing, so I'm excited to see your take on these

Sex HC Ft. Van Der Linde Gang

(Dutch Van Der Linde, John Marston, Javier Escuella, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy, Micah Bell, Sean Macguire, Sadie Adler)

I should write for the girls more

Warnings: Smut, duh

Dutch Van Der Linde

He probably loves roleplaying

Pretending he's the outlaw and you're the officer punishing him

But most times he loves being in control of you, thinks it's so attractive when you submit completely to him and become his pliable little servant

Likes it when you wear expensive jewelry and gifts he buys you with nothing else on

Definitely wants you to call him Sir

Says the most poetic and flowery things to you during

Probably enjoys receiving but LOVES giving head. Views it as another way to take control

Quickies with him are non existent. To him, sex and intimacy are an art, and he will take his time with every little detail and aspect of it

Enjoys playful brattiness, definitely a brat tamer

I can see him being into BDSM. Ball gags, leather crops, leashes, blindfolds, etc

John Marston

Super messy, super rough, super desperate

Pussy eating pro. I'm talking mind blowing, back arching, toe curling, sheet gripping head. ALWAYS asks if he can go down on you

Acts like every time you two have sex will be the last

On the contrary though, I feel like he'd be into edging

Also doesn't mind letting you be dominant, he has such submissive energy

Mayhaps a mommy kink, because I can also see him calling you mommy

Would let you tie him up, totally at your mercy

He loses any semblance of shame, will beg, cry, whimper, you name it

Could consent to just about anything, if you tell him to bark he'll bark

Gets carried away when during sex sometimes, just gets absolutely drunk from pleasure

Javier Escuella

Incredibly romantic and passionate

He can fuck, but he can also make love

So much sexual stamina, and makes every time you have sex absolutely unforgettable

Loves to make sure you are as comfortable as possible and feel as though you have enough privacy. Even if it means paying for a hotel, he'll do anything to ensure your comfort

But if you wanna have risky public sex he's more than willing to as well lmao

Holds you and whispers how much he loves you while he thrusts slowly

But if y'all are fucking he'll say the filthiest shit he can conjur up in his mind while thrusting as hard and fast as he can

Slaps and grips anything he can hold onto

Overwhelms all of your senses and stimulates you in multiple ways at once

Loves cumming inside you but if not inside then on your torso or face

Arthur Morgan

Loves putting his whole weight on you when y'all fuck

Just simply pinning you down with the size of him drives him crazy

Is such a gentleman even during sex. Always stops and asks how you are and if you like how he's doing

Insists you don't have to go down on him but secretly loves it when you do

His favorite positions are ones where you're totally helpless like mating presses or locking your arms behind you

Whenever he fucks you from behind he wraps his massive arm around your neck. Idly squeezes down on your neck

Enjoys sex totally naked, makes it feel more intimate exposing yourselves fully to each other

But he loves it if you wear cute outfits for him just so he can take it off you

But he absolutely loves quickies. Complains they're too risky but every time you suggest one he's unbuckling his belt before you can finish your sentence

Definitely does the knee thing

Charles Smith

He is a pure giver. You will always cum at least 3 times or else he won't feel like he did a thorough job.

Will ignore his own aching cock as long as he can see you squirm in ecstasy

Your pleasure is his pleasure

Doesn't care if he doesn't get to cum tbh

Definitely aware of his size and uses it to his advantage if you're into that

Cages you in his arms, holds you down, puts you in choke holds, etc

I feel like he'd be pretty vanilla and you'd be the one to bring kinks to the table if anything. Will honestly do most anything you want if it brings you pleasure

Soft but firm touches, like every touch is done with intent and thought

Type to make out with you for hours without any actual stimulation and be content. Will see you off with the bluest balls.

Lenny Summers

He's still pretty young so I believe his experience would be limited

You two are probably eachother's first everythings, atleast you're his

Probably cums real fast but makes up for it with enthusiam

Will try out so many things with you, the two of you will both bring ideas to the table

Tries to start things off slow but his excitement gets the best of him

SO MUCH communication and talking during (feedback, jokes, etc...)

Very forward with his needs

Asks for hand/blow jobs a lot to blow off some steam

Very fast learner, and probably very risky

I feel like he'd ask to finger you a lot in risky situations

There's been instances where he just forgets foreplay altogether and just wants to go at it

Kieran Duffy

Submissive as hell

Definitely whimpers

Let's you take the lead 99% of the time

Will cum within five minutes max, and it really takes it out of him

Super sensitive literally everything. Touch him anywhere and he's blushing and squirming

Loves it if you wrap your thighs around his head

That being said, enjoys face sitting

Feels reassured when you tell him what to do and help him in the process

Hands roam all over you, it's like he can't fathom that you're a real being that's actually doing this with him

Eyes roll back and his face goes red when he cums. He's super embarassed about it

Micah Bell

SO rough. Drags you into position and commands you to do certain things

Likes slapping, hair pulling, spitting, I feel like he'd even be into piss. All of the above would go both ways for him.

Hate sex with him goes crazy ong. And after arguments? Just fucking all your anger away

Into degrading for sure

Sex is definitely the best emotional release for the both of you without actually hurting eachother

He's into marks. That entails scratches, bites, bruises

Make him bleed, literally beat the shit out of him during sex and he'll let it slide

Sex is a constant battle for dominance

Probably makes you do embarassing things for him like bark

Also puts you in obscene and embarassing positions just for his own pleasure

If anyone ever heard y'all have sex they'd think it sounds more like an argument and a fist fight than love making

Sean Macguire

The goofiest man during sex, not even intentionally either. He'll say the stupidest thing you've ever heard with his whole chest and you'll have to ask if he's serious

"You ready for the Macguire special?"

Loud ass moans, cannot contain them. If you're into public sex you better either prepare to be caught or mentally prepare yourself for the influx of scoldings/questions that'll come later

LOVES playful brattiness or when you want to take control. He's all for it

Has fantasies of being woken up with head

Will do the same for you in return if that's what it takes to enact his fantasies

Also into roleplay but way cornier shit like you're a nurse and he's a patient. Indulges in costumes as well

Drunk sex is the best because it's combining two of his favorite things

Sadie Adler

Also definitely does the knee thing...

Genuinely one of the sweetest and more passionate lovers, and it will translate during sex

Super gentle and passionate

Lot's of "I love you"s exchanged

Never any space between you, your limbs constantly intertwined as you kiss and move against eachother

Either of you can take the role as dom, it doesn't matter to her

Smiles the whole time out of pure adoration for you

Can be super sultry and kinky when the time calls for it though

Not opposed to being a little rougher but I can't see her going too far with that

Thinks you're far too delicate and special to be treated in such a way

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manhattanstrawberry · 2 months ago

Text

𝙎𝙊𝙐𝙋 ━━𝙎. 𝙂𝙚𝙩𝙤

Synopsis: Suguru wakes up on a late Saturday evening and the soup on the stove can’t compare to the warmth he feels when you’re near

Tags: fluff!! intimacy, established relationship, pet names (baby, sweetheart)

Word count: 1k

Authors note: I love you Suguru Geto. Just a short Drabble I did in like 10 minutes because I really wanted to write for him. I hope you enjoy!!

Art credits: 521jie

He thinks he must’ve been a caring, loved king in his past life or possibly he fed every little duck in the city’s pond, small pieces of bread so that they barely went hungry ever again or perhaps a cat that brought nothing but happiness to a kind old woman. He had to have been one of the best people on earth in his past life because it was the only solid reason he could come up with to be blessed with the sight he can't tear his eyes away from right now.

It’s simple, the sounds of crashing waves of a beach are nowhere to be heard, if you look to your right outside the large windows there's no Eiffel tower and if you were to look down the Trevi fountain is certainly not down below.

It’s just you, in his shirt, wandering around the kitchen doing whatever it is that you're doing. Your upper thigh graces him every now and then when your body quickly turns, to find something in the kitchen. He’s got to get dressed soon and get his day started, preferably not at 5 pm on a Saturday evening but you had insisted he slept in this weekend— “catch up on his beauty sleep” he remembered you saying two nights before. You two ended up staying in bed for the day but his body must've been chasing rest as he slept through most of the day, the sun already setting.

You're caught up in making "lunch", hoping to give him a taste of warmth, as you smell the flavors seeping into the air from the darling pumpkin dutch oven pot he bought for you a year ago. It was either the pumpkin or the basic red one and he just had to indulge in your love for decorated items around the apartment.

He too can smell the flavors of lunch but all of his senses are taken by you. All he can see is you, he can still smell the lotion you apply right after your shower every night from the bed sheets he just unraveled from, he can hear the tap of your feet as you move across the kitchen and the small hums that leave you as you finally find the ingredients you're looking for, he can almost feel the soft skin of your exposed legs and arms that he kisses every night and right now he's craving the sweet taste of your lips he could never forget and always seek for.

He can feel the cool air on his skin, his shirt missing from his chest, decorating yours, perhaps you couldn't feel the chill due to the heat coming from the stove. The harsh sound of the wind along with the snow outside is drowned out by the closed windows, and he can hear the quiet jazz from the speakers hooked up to the television if he listens just hard enough. You concentrate on the pot on the stove, stirring with a wooden spoon and then bringing it up to your lips to have a taste. He watches from the archway, a little jealous of the spoon but he stays still just to indulge in the sight a little longer.

You’re beautiful, bewitching and he almost feels homesick just standing a few feet away from you.

He can almost feel himself getting warm just from the sight of you and the way you rub your eyes as the steam rises to your face.

“Suguru, how long have you been standing there?” you placed the cover over the pot as a small smile settles on your face “Did you rest well?”

He moves from the wall in slow strides to meet you as you walk over to him, he nods before taking you in his arms. He holds your waist bringing you close as his head falls to your shoulder. You settle your head on to his shoulder as he drapes himself on top of you holding you tighter. Your fingers run against his scalp and down the length of his hair, it’s soft and perfect, a little too much like him. He hums at the feeling of your hands in his hair and straightens up to look at you, a tired smile on his face as he places a kiss on your nose and then to your forehead. You giggle and the sound goes into his ears and straight to his heart.

He can feel the weight of his love for you coursing through his body and he wants nothing more than to take you back to bed and hold you even closer that the concept of space doesn't exist anymore. His hand rests on the back of your head, “What are you cooking sweetheart?” the other hand holding your waist close to him.

“Soup.”

He hums, feeling warmer from your arms around his waist and the idea of soup in his stomach.

“Are you cold,” his hand glides to your cheek, his thumb caressing your warm skin. You lean into his touch moving even closer to him, the fabric of your—his shirt pressed against his bare torso.

“Not really,” You sigh. “I felt warm over by the stove and then I came over to you, I still feel warm. You must've been cold though, I’m sorry I didnt turn on the heater.” You frowned at him.

“It’s alright, I feel warm with you right here.” His arm tightened around your waist.

“Put on a sweater or atleast a shirt, baby.” You tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. You let your hand travel down his neck and to his shoulder rubbing it up and down slowly to provide some heat to his exposed skin.

“Hm, if I remember correctly, someone took it.” He looked to the side feigning sadness. You lightly slapped his shoulder before going back to your attempt of warming him up. He looked back at your face, his eyes, arms and heart filled with you as he warmly smiled.

He’s just so endearing and sweet and he’s yours.

“Get a sweater, okay? The soup should be finished right now.” You begin to pull away, but he takes a step to hold on to you a little longer. Your hand rests on his bicep as his face moves a little closer to yours.

“I’ll put something on.” He kisses your cheek before moving closer to your lips, “I just can’t stand the idea of having soup before I taste you.”

Divider creds: @saradika

#geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #suguru x reader #suguru fluff #geto suguru x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk geto

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aleenuhs · 9 months ago

Note

Helping Arthur release some tension after his right arm got injured in a gunfight. He’s been grumpy and stuck at camp; he could use a helping hand. 🤭

ᯓ★ A Helping Hand

I love this little idea, thanks anon!

warnings & tags: smut (p in v), fluff, nudity, afab!reader/fem!reader, Arthur is a lil angry, mentions of injury, established relationship, pet names, gendered language (she/her, reference to reader)

word count: 1,157

Arthur was starting to get hysterical due to his current situation. He got injured on his right arm, which he used in everyday life, especially when it came to using his guns and crafting.

The more hours he stayed in camp, he wished to be out and doing what he does best. Not that he avoided camp, or maybe he did, but he was there because that's where you were.

"I said I'm fine," he demanded, looking up at you from where he lay on the cot, your eyes wandered to the wrap on his arm, just staring.

"Let me at least get you some coffee, please?" You spoke, and Arthur didn't protest, so you assumed that it was what he wanted. "Good." You grabbed the little mug from his side table. Soon you came back with the mug and some coffee in it. Arthur sat up and took the small mug from you.

"Thank you," he said in almost a murmur. "I ain't want ta ask you for much, sweetie. I know you have stuff that you have to do 'round here."

You frowned a bit, "I finished all my chores, and Ms. Grimshaw said it was fine, don't act like it's a burden, Arthur, when it's not. I love you okay?" You smiled again, sitting beside him, resting your head on his left shoulder, he used his injured arm to swipe a few hairs away from your face.

"A'right then, I love you too," He said to you.

"How does your arm feel?"

"Fine, I want to get back out there." He said with slight desperation in his voice, his eyes bored to the house's walls. You grin.

"Arthur, you need rest." You say placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Remember how I said I was fine? Yea' I meant it." He said, with a little sass in his tone, making you giggle.

"Go tell mister Dutch that," You replied in a murmur but an even sassier tone than his one previously.

"What'd you say?" He said, not catching whatever you just said.

"Nothing." His eyes snap to your expression, and the shrug that crept onto your shoulders. He placed the mug down on the side table.

"Don't do that now..." He looked at you, "what did you say?" You can only giggle at how he yearns to know what you said, suddenly you're right under him, he manhandled you under him and you're still laughing at him. "Guess I'm gonna have to get it outta you one way or the other." He began to tickle you, knowing exactly where to get you, your tummy.

"Hey!" You said suddenly, "No not this right now!"

"Tell me!" He persisted in tickling you, and you were trying to fight back without hurting his arm even more, but you weren't going to win this at all so you sighed heavily.

"I told you to go tell Mister Dutch what you'd said!" You uttered fast and Arthur let go of you, both of you breathing hard, the little tears in your eyes from how much you felt vulnerable while being tickled went away.

"Did'ya now?" He had a smug look on his face, "I just might." You nodded when he said that.

A minute of silence fell into the air between you two, his body on top of yours, careful not to squish you, he stares longingly into your eyes and smiles. "But I wanna stay here with my sweet girl." He kissed you before you could even respond, both of your guys' lips smashing together, he lays himself down next to you bringing you closer. The little squeaks of the bed as you two moved on it filled the air. Your body shifted on top of his, you smiled down at him and he chuckled.

"Whatcha gonna do?" he playfully chided, you looked a bit lost. A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you brought your head down to kiss his neck. His warm hands slithered up your legs and stayed on your hips as he kissed you back, your skirt was riding up your thighs and Arthur smiled.

You got up and slid off your underwear and then got back onto the cot, unzipping his pants and taking his cock out. You balanced yourself above his hips, he stared up at you and smiled, your clit dragged against his tip, he groaned a bit, Arthur reached down to his cock, rubbing it against your wetness, making your hips falter a bit. He pushes his cock right into your entrance. A moan escaped your lips, hands finding his chest and applying a bit of pressure as you rode him. His cock stretched you out, and boy did it feel good. "Mhm, such a good girl fa' me..." He put his hands on your hips, slightly guiding them to move even faster.

The room was filled with the sounds of his grunts and your moans, the sounds of skin slapping together. "Fuck.." you moan when his cock hits your g-spot. Your knees already weak, he feels you starting to give up, he assists your efforts by bucking himself up into you. The only other time you've felt the burning sensation in your thighs is when you're riding your horse, but this felt good.

You lean down and kiss him some more, they were sloppy kisses but he took them gladly, you still rolled your hips.

"Takin me so well." He used his left hand to rub your clit, taking you completely over the edge, making you moan even louder. He needed you so bad, he was full of tension and pent up energy from everything. He'd been wanting to fuck you for a long time, a while, he watched you walk around camp talking to everyone as he was supposed to be resting and taking it easy, he would sit near the fire drinking, smoking or cleaning his guns.

He always thought of you, he needed you, what a man you'd made him.

Now, he started to rut faster into you, not taking it easy at all.

"Arthur--" You groaned out in pure pleasure, his rough hands caressed your soft skin, the hands that killed and strangled people, they were so soft to you, they pleasured you.

"Alright there, princess?" He checked on you and you nodded as you hid your face in the crook of his neck. Your cheeks were red and you could feel your cunt clench around him, you were both close, his hands brung you down even harder on him. "Y'gonna cum, girl?" He used his finger to tilt your chin up to look at him as you came. "Look at me." He demanded.

When your orgasm hit, you shook and moaned out his name. He came shortly after you.

"God-" You cried out in pleasure, "oh my..."

Arthur whimpered a bit, before he held onto you. grasping at your shoulders to keep himself grounded.

"Damn, you did so good for me..." he praised you.

"I did?" You smiled up at him as you laid there on top of his chest. \

"Sure did." He hugged you.

a/n if u liked this pls req more!

#Arthur Morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #fluff #smut #Arthur Morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 x reader

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cowgirlcasanova · 6 months ago

Text

I made the mistake of clicking on a link to a reddit thread about abigail marston.

the way the men on there talk about her makes me physically feel sick. the names they call her, the way they describe her and john’s relationship, the way they constantly bring up her past in a negative way.

They seem to lack any and all artistic thinking skills. to me, one of the main points of media and art is how you’re supposed to analyze and discover the things they aren’t outright said. You have to dig a little deeper, you have to actually think. The people on that godforsaken website seem to just not have/be able to do that!

abigail was a prostitute. yes, we all know this men of reddit and it’s okay! please shut up about it!!!!

she was also an orphan, even worse for the time, an orphaned girl. she had little to no opportunities in the world she was born into. EVEN JOHN KNOWS THIS. “she’s a woman in a man’s world” and they act personally offended on johns behalf. john was an orphan too, i can promise you he understands how hard it is to survive and he doesn’t look down on her! Not that it even begins to matter if john or anyone else “understands” her reasoning for her choice of survival. It doesn’t. it simply matters that abigail was incredibly strong throughout that time of her life and rest. she survived and did whatever she could to and that is to be appreciated.

These men seem to have this one single idea that “abigail was prostitute so john thought baby not his cause so many men 🤓” SHUT. UP. no actually that was so much more actually john not ready to be a father and being afraid of himself!!!! honestly speaking, the entirety of that situation has very little to do with abigail herself. but no they’ll never understand that because it was written out in black and white and you may have to think a little to get to that conclusion. not to mention, they could never accept it because then john marston wouldn’t be as “alpha” BE QUIET IM BEGGING YOU.

the way they discuss abigail and uncle made my skin crawl. there is nothing else said about that relationship, there is no one specific cannon explanation as to how or why they knew each other. but the men i saw discussing it said such disgusting and vulgar things about how uncle “reallyyy knew abigail”. truly horrifying. There’s so many different ways they could’ve crossed paths. she was a prostitute but that’s not all she was. she was still a woman, a person. i can assure you she had other hobbies and activities that she did, that she enjoyed doing.

not to mention how it seems to be such an odd and disgusting fantasy for them that “everyone in the gang had abigail” i hate to break it to you but no they didn’t! Now this is up for debate for a lot of people and i actually want to make an entire post just dedicated to this. When looking at both instances where that was said, it was purposely said to hurt john and throw him off. not to mention, abigail was never around when it was said. There wasn’t an instance of anyone saying it in camp or even throwing an insult to john about it in rdr2. hmmm i wonder why that is????? Bill said it to make him stumble and dutch said it because he knows john and he knows how to hit him where it hurts. But, i don’t think any of it is true. of course no internet bro is going to actually think into enough to even be curious so!

abigail marston is someone to be admired. someone who persevered as much as any man in that gang but she doesn’t get the same appreciation. she probably had to work just as hard if not harder than some of the men just to stay alive in her youth. Abigail marston is not a nag, she’s not annoying, she’s not “mean” to john. take a step back and look at what she’s responding to and give her the same grace you give arthur and john. “oh well arthur just had a hard time showing emotions because of the way he was raised” “oh john couldn’t deal with everything so he ran away for a little bit it’s okay.” let abigail have that same grace.

so sorry this was not meant to be this long. clearly it has been nagging at me. if you read this love you and love abigail marston!

#rdr2 #rdr2 community #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 john #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #dutch van der linde #rdr2 dutch #abigail marston #rdr2 abigail #bill williamson #rdr2 bill

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boopshoops · 4 months ago

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C'mon now, we don't HAVE to stick to one set genre. Music is about self expression!~ ...Though I wouldn't be against one-upping some competition.

Yuu Shi is strutting on down to debut as a vocalist and backup dancer for GLOWCHAIN! With eccentric flare and powerful vocals, she's here to push the boundaries of EDM and pop to new heights. After all, if it isn't experimental, it isn't her.

Part 2

Ragu Music Week is a fanevent by @raguiras!!! :D

Set to home screen: Mic check, one two!~

Groovification: ???

Home transition 1: Day three of asking Allen to let me join Hazard, no such luck as of yet. Is this how Epel feels about Savanaclaw? Maybe a bribe would work...

Home transition 2: Ohh I just love this boa! It's so cute and fluffy! Come here and touch it, it's so soft that I could use it as a pillow.

Home transition 3: No need to worry much about your performances, hon, I'll make sure to outperform you regardless! You can take that as a promise and a threat.

Home transition/Groovification: ???

Tap home 1: You think I'm getting a bit competitive over this? Hmm, Maybe, maybe. Well, this is finally my chance to show off my prowess! I didn't go to performing arts school for nothing.

Tap home 2: I'm able to keep up with Vil fine enough, but after the chaos that was VDC, I'm beginning to feel bad for my other group members... but not bad enough! Let's go again!

Tap home 3: No, no, no- That's not it. Your movements aren't big enough! You need to gesture enough for the whole crowd to see. Remember, the people in the back row want a show too. You need to hold out your arms like so!

Tap home 4: As much as I enjoy an organized, set performance, I much prefer to go with the flow. I want to get the whole audience involved in ways you haven't seen before, you know? Make it feel more authentic? It'll leave a lasting impression of me in their minds!... Oh, and the rest of GLOWCHAIN, of course.

Tap home 5: Hahaha! What, am I towering over you in these heels? Should I kneel down, is that what you'd like? What? I'm just teasing!

Tap home/Groovification: ???

Home after login: As much as I love this outfit, I could do with a little less sparkle... When the stage lights hit me and the other members, I can't help but feel like a damn disco ball. What do you think?

ALRIGHT RAMBLING TIME. Yuu shi is having a hard time abandoning her instruments for GLOWCHAIN. Therefore she takes every chance she can to be petty about it and be another headache for vil (sorry bbg). She is very jealous of Hazard/Riff due to this- but she's not letting that stop her from trying to outperform other groups or even vil himself.

As for music- I did a lot of research into KPOP i never had before KJGDSBKGJSD and I think mamamoos vibe fits Yuu Shi very well!

also I listened to the inspiration playlist, saw lady gaga, and blacked out

Charli XCX fits her more experimental style too- its her way of pushing the boundaries of the genre

KIMPETRASKIMPETRASKIMPETRAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As for dancing- ive had Royal Family brain rot lately. THEY ARE SO TALENTED AAAAAAAAAAAAA. Theyre flowy, energetic, fast paced moves fit yuu shi very well imo!!! Though she would definitely need a lot more practiced to be as organized as them sob. 3:25 in particular drives me insane:

youtube

OK RAMBLING OVER TAG TIME

@lowcallyfruity @skriblee-ksk @kitwasnothere @cecilebutcher @justm3di0cr3

@thehollowwriter @distant-velleity @the-trinket-witch @techno-danger @scint1llat3

@beneathsakurashade @twsted-canvas @qsoap @prince-kallisto

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thechanelmuse · 2 years ago

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Juneteenth is a Black American holiday.

We call Juneteenth many things: Black Independence Day, Freedom Day, Emancipation Day, Jubilee Day. We celebrate and honor our ancestors.

December 31 is recognized as Watch Night or Freedom’s Eve in Black American churches because it marks the day our enslaved ancestors were awaiting news of their freedom going into 1863. On January 1, 1863, President Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation. But all of the ancestors wouldn’t be freed until June 19, 1865 for those in Galveston, Texas and even January 23, 1866 for those in New Jersey (the last slave state). (It’s also worth noting that our people under the Choctaw and Chickasaw Nations wouldn’t be freed until April 28, 1866 and June 14, 1866 for those under the Cherokee Nation by way of the Treaties.)

Since 1866, Black Americans in Texas have been commemorating the emancipation of our people by way of reading the Emancipation Proclamation and coming together to have parades, free festivities, and later on pageants. Thereafter, it spread to select states as an annual day of commemoration of our people in our homeland.

Here’s a short silent video filmed during the 1925 Juneteenth celebration in Beaumont, Texas:

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(It’s also worth noting that the Mascogos tribe in Coahuila, Mexico celebrate Juneteenth over there as well. Quick history lesson: A total of 305,326 Africans were shipped to the US to be enslaved alongside of American Indians who were already or would become enslaved as prisoners of war, as well as those who stayed behind refusing to leave and walk the Trail of Tears to Oklahoma. In the United States, you were either enslaved under the English territories, the Dutch, the French, the Spanish, or under the Nations of what would called the Five “Civilized” Native American Tribes: Cherokee, Creek (Muscogee), Chickasaw, Choctaw, and Seminoles. Mascogos descend from the Seminoles who escaped slavery during the Seminole Wars, or the Gullah Wars that lasted for more than 100 years if you will, and then settled at El Nacimiento in 1852.)

We largely wave our red, white and blue flags on Juneteenth. These are the only colors that represent Juneteenth. But sometimes you may see others wave our Black American Heritage flag (red, black, and gold).

Juneteenth is a day of respect. It has nothing to do with Africa, diversity, inclusion, immigration, your Pan-African flag, your cashapps, nor your commerce businesses. It is not a day of “what about” isms. It is not a day to tap into your inner colonizer and attempt to wipe out our existence. That is ethnocide and anti-Black American. If you can’t attend a Black American (centered) event that’s filled with education on the day, our music, our food and other centered activities because it’s not centered around yours…that is a you problem. Respect our day for what and whom it stands for in our homeland.

Juneteenth flag creator: “Boston Ben” Haith

It was created in 1997. The red, white and blue colors represent the American flag. The five-point star represents the Lone State (Texas). The white burst around the star represents a nova, the beginning of a new star. The new beginning for Black Americans.

Black American Heritage Flag creators: Melvin Charles & Gleason T. Jackson

It was created in 1967, our Civil Rights era. The color black represents the ethnic pride for who we are. Red represents the blood shed for freedom, equality, justice and human dignity. Gold fig wreath represents intellect, prosperity, and peace. The sword represents the strength and authority exhibited by a Black culture that made many contributions to the world in mathematics, art, medicine, and physical science, heralding the contributions that Black Americans would make in these and other fields.

SN: While we’re talking about flags, I should note that Grace Wisher, a 13-year-old free Black girl from Baltimore helped stitched the Star Spangled flag, which would inspire the national anthem during her six years of service to Mary Pickersgill. I ain’t even gon hold you. I never looked too far into it, but she prob sewed that whole American flag her damn self. They love lying about history here until you start unearthing them old documents.

In conclusion, Juneteenth is a Black American holiday. Respect us and our ancestors.

#juneteenth #juneteenth flag #black american history #black american culture #ben haith #black american heritage flag #melvin charles #gleason t jackson #grace wisher #american flag #mascogos #juneteenth 2023

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godbirdart · 1 year ago

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Looking at your recent commissions, those backgrounds are soo pretty!! Do you have any tips for backgrounds? I always struggle with them :>

aAA many many thanks!!

backgrounds can absolutely be a struggle but they don't have to be! they just require a little more creative planning~!

whether it be a commission or a personal drawing, if I'm building an elaborate art piece i focus on establishing the background First.

the background is the stage for your character! planning the background first will make it easier to tailor the character's actions and how they interact with the environment around them.

planning the background first can be the difference between your character standing awkwardly front and center with the setting going on behind them, or actually participating in their environment.

if i'm super stumped for background ideas, i browse stock image sites to get inspiration. sometimes it helps to doodle on an image to generate some ideas - kinda like you're playing with JPEGs like dolls.

that said - while i'm pinpointing WHAT i want to draw, i keep the ideas loose. i don't want to focus on the itty-bitty details until i've got the overall aesthetic and layout in mind, as i might get inspired to add something in later!

THUMBNAILING

if you're planning a big piece it can be helpful to break it down into something bite-sized before you go all in and start lining or painting. these are "thumbnails" - fast little sketches that establish the scene in a way that doesn't consume a lot of time or effort. it's also great as a little perspective exercise as a treat.

here i decided i want to draw a character walking home in a back alley street. with these photo references in mind, i can plan a layout and how the character will act in the scene. is this a candid shot? are they posing cutely? are they looking down at us in a tense way? there are many ideas to be had!

after you've chosen the layout / vibe for your idea, you can scale up your thumbnail to your preferred canvas size and start fleshing out the details. be sure to keep referring to your reference images to get additional ideas, such as storefronts, items, props etc!

3D MODELS

If you're trying to create a unique environment that photo references simply cannot help you visualize, 3D models exist! This gives you that ability to rotate / scale things for better visualization. Clip Studio has a vast catalogue of 3D models to download For Free that you can fiddle around with. i know there are many 3D builder sites out there as well, though i've never made use of them so i'm afraid i cannot recommend any off the top of my head. hell, you can even use the Sims game to design a setting and go from there!

also if anyone is going to come into my house and say 3D models are cheating: they are not. using a 3D model to better grasp an angle or get a better idea for perspective is not cheating. using 3D models to help plan the environment in your art is not cheating. they are no different than brushes; these are tools made to HELP YOU. use them!

PERSPECTIVE

perspective and angles can make a HUGE difference in the art piece. there's nothing wrong with static long shots! if that's what you want to draw, do it!! there's no right and wrong here!

but if you're finding your work to be a little robotic and stiff, slap an angle in there. consider an overhead view. these same techniques are applied to photography and film! nothing wrong with wide shots, but every once in a while it can help to throw in a dutch angle.

if there is one note i'd like to leave off on, it's that your backgrounds do not have to be 100% accurate-to-life to be Good. unless realism is something you're really striving for in your style, don't feel compelled to nitpick every brick and leaf in your art. us artists can tend to over-prune our work until our art looks a little bare and soulless. flaws can give your work character, and that's often a lot more appealing than how accurate the scale ratio between background building A and building B are [again, unless you WANT to go for that realistic look then you can fuss over those details all you like].

i hope this helped a little! MY APOLOGIES FOR MAKING IT SO LONG AH

#art advice #art tutorials #godbirdart #long post

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nthspecialll · 3 months ago

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Theories I do not believe in

The Trolley Theory

To those who do not know this theory, it is essencially that during the train station robbery in chapter 4 when they fleed on a trolley and crash, that the knock to Dutch's head made him crazy/made him worse. I do not believe in this theory.

Really the only evidence I have heard for this theory is "everything went wrong after that!" Exactly! Everything went wrong! Late chapter four is generally when a lot of this starts to fall apart, it is only like four missions before Banking an old American art and it is the time when the noose really begins to tighten around the gang's neck, putting Dutch under a lot os stress.

Pretty much after this mission nothing goes right, that just means the stress is getting worse while doubt is as well and Dutch is pushed more and more into Micah's arms while he is breaking more and more under pressure. I feel like the trolley theory is just a cheap excuse for something way more complicated.

Abigail is the second rat

The title pretty much explains it, that Abigail was a second rat other than Micah and it is almost so dumb that I don't want to explain why I don't believe in it. She would be putting her family in a lot of unnessesary danger, literally killing Hosea whom she saw a father figure?? Why would Ross hunt her and John down in rdr1 if he knows she is cooperative? And finally, they did not need a second rat. Arthur is very right when he says they have gotten sloppy, they are leaving traces everywhere.

Not to mention the only "evidence" of this theory is a comment Dutch made while suffering a mental health crisis and was not meant to be taken seriously but rather show how broken he was.

Uncle is red harlow

Red Harlow is a character is Rockstars earliest red dead game, red dead revolver, he has a lot of mysteriousness surrounding him similarly to how Uncle has a lot of mystery to him.

Very simply why I don't believe this, R* has confirmed that it is in another universe (though the red dead redemption universe has a story of red harlow), and the little we know about the two characters don't match up.

John isn't Jack's son

This theory comes from the fact that a lot of the gang members slept with Abigail before she slept with John and the fact that grown Jack has Javier's mustache. When did mustache styles become genetic? Just like question.

Also in rdr1 Jack can get mistaken for John about 10 times I believe, so yeah. It would also kind of ruin John's entire character arc.

Molly was pregnant

Some say this would explain why she was so desperate to talk to Dutch, but also in chapter 3 or 2 Molly literally says Dutch has not touched her in weeks, meaning if she was pregnant she would at least be somewhat showing in chapter 6 which was months later.

Hosea gave Arthur TB

This is a theory that Arthur did not get TB from Thomas Downes but rather Hosea whom we know to have a lung disease.

I think this would be something so massive to the story and have such a big impact that rockstar would at the very least hint at it, but they don't, it comes from just people researching TB and saying "technically it is possible!" Yeah, um great but Arthur literally says "I know I ruined you lives, I suffer for it every day" to Ms Downes, and "I got it beating a man" to sister.

I also believe that Hosea has lung cancer, but that is more of a personal belief than anything. My biggest issue with Hosea giving Arthur TB is that it is just too big to have gone unnoticed if it was the truth.

(Tags: @photo1030 @pinescent-and-gingerbread )

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blackcatwriter · 4 months ago

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in the blink of a crinkling eye (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

a/n: Here's a short lil blurb because I'm in my Arthur Morgan phase rn and still figuring out pt 2 of my other fic. Honestly, I tried my best to be historically accurate regarding the camera so if it's not that accurate I'm sorry 😭 ♥︎ thank you to my pookie for beta reading this one too! ♥︎ enjoy!

warnings: angst if you squint?, no use of Y/N, no physical descriptions of reader (correct me if I'm wrong), use of nicknames, pretty much fluff

wc: 900

summary: You manage to get Arthur to come with you for a photograph of the two of you.

credit to @plum98 for the divider!

You had been begging Arthur the last few weeks to get your photograph taken together. He always managed to dodge your request, claiming “Sorry sweets, Sean and I are robbing some homestead”, or “Dutch has been on my ass ‘bout bringing in more money”, much to your disappointment.

However, today was different. You somehow steered him out of camp with the excuse of “needing his gun expertise”, although he doubted Ms. Grimshaw had put you up to such a task.

Once you conned him into taking you to town, you led him away from the gunsmith to a building that looked like it had nothing to do with what you were supposed to be doing. You had successfully fooled the cowboy into your schemes and walked through the door before he could say anything. Feeling obligated to follow after you, he did so. You had already begun introducing yourself to the photographer by the time he caught up.

“Darlin’, why the hell are you so goddamn insistent on gettin’ this done?” He grunted lowly as the photographer readied his camera.

“You get to draw me whenever you want in that journal of yours. I ain’t even got a quarter of your talent to draw you and I... I want to be able to look at you when you’re away on them missions of yours.” You sheepishly admitted, feeling yourself flush under his intense gaze.

Coming to understand your reasoning, he realized you were right, when you first caught him drawing you, you had been self-conscious but grew to appreciate it. He would always be observant to capture all the little details about you. Whenever he was away doing whatever the hell it was that Uncle or Micah managed to drag him into, he’d open his journal and look back at the portraits he made of you.

He’d look fondly at the time he drew you by campfire. You had been singing along to the tune of Javier’s guitar with the rest of the gang. There was another drawing of you when you had been learning how to read. Most of the time you hardly noticed when you were the subject of his art, but when you did there was a twinkle of delight in your eyes Arthur would make sure to capture.

Now here you had been wanting the same—a memento of him to keep you sane whenever he was gone and you’d have no idea if he had been killed or captured. Taking this in, Arthur felt an immense guilt weighing on his shoulders. Arthur Morgan had been a complete asshole to you.

“M’sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know it meant that much to ya’. Should’ve taken ya’ the first time ya’ asked.” He looked down to your feet apologetically, too embarrassed to meet your eyes.

Shaking your head with a smile, you took his hand in yours and squeezed. “S’alright. We’re here now.” You pecked his cheek and walked over to where the photographer had stationed his camera.

Arthur stood frozen in his place. You’d always been understanding to him—far more than he deserved at times. He’d always wondered when you’d finally come to your senses and leave him in the dust.

He watched you stand in front of the camera and gesture for him to come with you. You were busy brushing the stray strands of hair that were in your face and fixed the collar of your blouse to sit nicely.

In his eyes, you were perfect as in. Your hair had been tousled around by the wind from riding horseback and your blouse had stains from playing in the mud with Jack back at camp. You certainly didn’t look “picturesque” as society would deem it, you were dressed much too informally but Arthur adored how you looked. You looked like the truest version of yourself, the you that he had grown to love since you first joined the gang.

He’d only dreaded the day that you saw the ugly bastard in him that he saw whenever he looked in a mirror. There was nothing special about him nor was he the most handsome fella around. Sure, he was useful when it came to intimidating people into paying off their debts to the gang, but who was looking to love a bully?

“Come on, Arthur. We’re waiting on you.” You smiled at him.

Little did he know you had already seen him for what he is. He was a good man at heart who did bad things to protect the people he loved. He had a long past of doing bad things, but so did you and you accepted him—all of him. Shaking off his nerves, Arthur made his way to your side and offered his arm.

You happily accepted, beaming up at him with that one-of-a-kind smile of yours. He mirrored the love that shone in your eyes, not wanting to look away from you even as the man counted down.

“Ah, I see you lovebirds were not paying attention. Let us try one more time!” The man placed your photograph to the side and counted down once more.

This time both of you looked at the camera. Unable to fight your contagious energy, he let a small grin slip on his face. After the flash, while you went to happily collect the picture from the cameraman, Arthur took the first photo and folded it inside the breast pocket of his jacket.

#arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan blurb #arthur morgan fluff #this was cute in my head #i love arthur morgan #f!reader #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader

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ashs-cardboard-box · 10 months ago

Text

The Sin of Envy

~ Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Child!Arthur Morgan/Child!Male Reader

~ Familial (found family)

~2.7k words

Request :3

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You owed it all to the Van Der Linde gang. Having lost it all as a mere boy, you grew up on the streets for most of your life. Just a few months after you had turned thirteen, two co-founders of said gang picked you up and treated you like their own flesh and blood.

You thought of the two of them as your fathers. Hosea was a gentle, patient individual. He took over as your primary caretaker. Feeding you, teaching you to read, write, and pick apart safe from toxic herbs. As such, you were a lot closer to him, though that’s not to say you didn’t care for your other father figure.

Dutch was a more stern, focused man. He kept you in line should you disobey either him or Hosea. While he wasn’t as open about his affection towards you, his protection and observations over your well-being showed he had a heart.

Living with them for the next three years of your life were nothing short of great– as great as life on the road can be. Dutch and Hosea were slowly attempting to gather members for a gang, with little success. The two would always praise you for the fine young man you’ve grown to be, starting to teach you your way around a gun.

However, when another, younger, orphan boy was picked up in the same manner you were, you couldn’t help but feel a little off about it. Stubbornly standing a ways off to the side with your arms folded across your chest as your father figures feed the boy at one of the few tables around a newly formed camp.

You didn’t know his name, and you weren’t sure you wanted to. You wanted to march right up to them and ask Hosea to teach you again the proper positioning of your weaponry, but you didn't. Instead, you stand and stare as silently as possible.

Much to your dismay, Dutch is more observant than you thought. He looks over towards you and away from the new boy, that same blank expression on his face. “Boy. C’mere.” He beckons, pulling Hosea and the boy’s attention over to you as well.

Feeling awkward with their eyes on you, you shuffle over to the poorly constructed, wooden table. Slowly dropping your arms back down to your sides, your shoulders slouching forward slightly. “Ah, Y/N! I don’t s’pose we’ve introduced you to Arthur here!”

Hosea seems excited about the new addition to your family. A wide grin spread across his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling. You and Arthur don’t say anything to one another. Staring at each other as if trying to read what the other is thinking.

Arthur looks away from you and turns back down to his food in front of him on the table. Stuffing his face as if he hadn’t eaten in a long while– a statement you could fully believe. He was scrawny, but you couldn’t deny the height the other boy had on you, only serving to make you more envious.

“He’s gonna stick around for a while. Found him the same way we found you, y’know.” Hosea points out with a chuckle as Dutch merely nods, turning back to his conversation with Arthur, almost seeming like a promise of a better life if he joined the gang.

You look back towards Hosea with a small sigh. Muttering a quiet “okay, papa” and giving your father figure a subtle smile. Accepting that as your agreement, Hosea joins their conversation once more, shutting you out.

You can’t deny the pang of resentment and jealousy building in your chest. Taking your leave and heading back to your tent to find something to do. You weren’t really used to being on your own anymore. After having to fend for yourself for the first decade of your life, you assumed you wouldn’t feel this way. Unfortunately, you got attached.

You’re not sure how long has passed of you sitting still on your bedroll, staring blankly at the floor, deep in thought, but you get caught off guard by a short “hey.”

Lifting your head, you find Arthur standing at the entrance of your open tent. The sun casting his shadow across the floor. You’re not sure why, but his presence just upsets you further. Your fingers beginning to fidget with one another as your hands rest in your lap.

“What’d’ya want..?” you grumble, trying to keep your harshness under wraps. He’s only two years younger than you, at fourteen, but that fact makes you feel worse. You’re scared. The last thing you want to be is an old toy your father figures toss aside for something new. Someone younger and much different from you.

Arthur shrugs with a hum of “i dunno.” While you got passed down some of Hosea’s old clothes as a hand-me-down, Arthur’s clothes are dirty and torn. The hems of his pant legs are frayed, the fragile strings flicking with each slight gust of wind.

“You wanna play dominoes?” He asks hopefully with a small tilt of his head. You don’t really want to be so mean to the new boy, but you can already feel that urge mounting. You take a deep breath before responding with a curt “no.”

“Well why not? You got somethin’ better to do?” Arthur asks curiously, but to you, it’s just plain obnoxious. Pushing yourself to your feet and crossing your tent. Walking right passed Arthur without another word to him.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you just didn’t stop walking. Right out of the small camp and heading wherever your feet took you. Slowly shuffling through the dense woods, brooding as your boots step over leaf after twig, crunching under your weight.

It wasn’t until you made it to the nearby town that you realized just what you had done. You were forbidden from leaving camp without either Dutch or Hosea until you could learn how to properly handle your gun. They just cared for you, after all.

Unfortunately, you had the bright idea to prove yourself to them. If you could prove you were strong, maybe they’d like you over Arthur again. You wanted your family to yourself again. You refused to be replaced.

Waltzing right into the budding city with nothing but false confidence keeping your head held high. Your mind darting over what you could possibly do to show you’re a strong man. The civilians didn’t bat an eye, seeming to not even notice you among the many other individuals.

Taking what little you’ve gathered from Dutch’s schemes with Hosea, you settled on pickpocketing. It seemed easy enough, and you could make a lot of money depending on who you choose.

Now looking at the surrounding people like nothing more than their wallets, you spot a shorter, older man waiting for the train with a newspaper held between his fingers. Perfect, you thought. Taking it upon yourself to take a seat next to him on the old wooden bench. He doesn’t seem to care about your presence; he’s far too enamored by whatever’s happening in the region.

Slowly, you slide your hand across the unsanded wood, feeling prick after prick of splinters threatening to pierce your skin. You’re too focused to care. Your eyes rapidly flicking from your hand, to the man, to something mundane in front of you to avoid seeming like you’re staring at him.

You make good progress. Getting as close as caressing the man’s pocket jean with your pinky, before you hear a ruffling of the newspaper, followed by a rough grip around your wrist, causing you to hiss in pain.

“The hell you think you’re doin’, kid?” The man demands, tugging your wrist away from his body, but not letting go of it. His face contorted into one of frustration at your audacity. You don’t respond, and that seems like the wrong choice to make. Staring doe-eyed at the man with a small grimace, wanting to be strong and not show pain nor fear, though you feel it all.

The man grunts in disapproval, giving your wrist a sharp tug and sending you down onto the floor of the train station. Propping yourself up on your elbows as you stare up at him, but you don’t run away. You’re not strong. You’re terrified.

“Someone oughta teach you a lesson, boy.” He spits coldly as he stands up, reaching down to tug you up by the collar of your shirt and drag you to your unsteady feet. Letting go of you and taking a step back putting up his fists, glaring at you to tell you to follow. “Be a man. Fight me for it.” he challenges

Feeling that false, stubborn confidence return, you put your fists up at the level of your eyes, copying the man. The man has both an experience advantage, and a physical advantage over you. He might be short in stature, but he’s bulky in his old age– seeming in his late fifties. You, on the other hand, barely hold your own when fake sparring against Dutch, only meant to be a teaching lesson.

Instead of letting you try and strike first, the man cocks you in the first hit. Your head knocking back as you take a right jab straight to the nose, causing your eyes to water. Your form curling into itself as you whine in pain. Your nose dripping blood down your lips and chin. The crimson liquid staining your hands.

Not giving you time to brace yourself, the man takes you by your shoulders and knees you in the gut, knocking the wind out of you as your knees give out. “Your daddy would be disappointed. You ain’t a man. Might as well become one of ‘em two dollar whores.” he scoffs a laugh, glaring down at you as if you’re the scum of the Earth.

All you can do is clutch your stomach with your entire forearm as your other hand clasps over your mouth. The blood from your nose dripping down the back of your hand and hitting the train platform with a near silent splat. Looking up at the man through watery eyes, choking back tears.

The man pays you no sympathy. Palming your forehead and shoving you backwards, causing you to land awkwardly on your back. Groaning quietly from behind your blood stained hand. He stares down at you coldly for a long moment before stepping away from you. Bending down to pick up his newspaper from off his spot on the bench before taking his seat again, acting as if nothing happened. “Get outta here, kid. If you know what’s good for ya.”

As soon as you regain the ability to breathe properly, you scamper to your feet and run off with your tail between your legs to go lick your wounds. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you retrace your steps through the town and back into the woods. Blood staining your face and shirt.

You’re reluctant to go back to camp. What were you supposed to say? That you were jealous of their new favorite and decided to go get your ass kicked? You stumble slowly through the woods, massaging your sore abdomen. Each time you sniffle due to your tears, only swallowing more blood than you should.

Staring at the empty clearing around twenty feet away, signifying the entrance of camp, you stop. You’re a mess. You feel completely emasculated, hurt and jealous. Wondering if the stray boy they call Arthur could’ve done better than you. You’re mostly silent. The only thing heard from you are small sniffles and pained whimpers.

Hearing a cacophony of different, yet familiar, voices all calling your name into the void of the woods, you feel even worse. You don’t want to be seen like this. Your face stained with blood and tears, dripping down the front of your shirt.

Before you can even consider heading inside on your own, you hear two sets of footsteps rapidly approaching you from your left. Quickly turning, you spot Arthur and Hosea– both seem terribly worried about your sudden disappearance, only made worse when they see the state you’ve been left in.

Arthur is the first to get to you. Gawking at you as if you’ve grown three heads, only causing you to turn away from him. Your tears continuing to shamefully roll down your cheeks. He’s the last person you want to see right now. Hosea, however, is a different story.

Hosea sighs heavily as he approaches, reaching forward and pulling you into a tight hug– just like he used to when you were younger. Resting your bloodied chin on Hosea’s shoulder, you wrap your arms around his frame tightly. Your fingers balling tightly around the back of his shirt.

“What happened to you, son? You know you ain’t s’posed to run off like that..” He chides gently, running a hand up and down your back soothingly. You mumble a meek “‘m sorry, papa” in response. Sounding more like a timid boy than a young man.

“It’s alright, boy.. You’re okay..” Hosea murmurs into your ear, letting you try and compose yourself despite the soreness of your body. A much harder task to accomplish with Arthur’s bright eyes on you. “Where’d you go? Why’d you leave?” he questions, not wanting to force you to respond.

“Th- The town.. Just nearby. I–” you pause, swallowing the uncomfortable concoction of saliva and metallic blood pooling in your mouth. “I- you just…” you’re not sure if you want to be honest or not. On one hand, Hosea could help with what’s weighing so heavily on your chest. On the other, he could ridicule you for getting into trouble over something so stupid.

“You ‘n Dutch got along with Arthur so well.. ‘n I got scared that y-you were gonna leave me for him. Wanted to prove I was strong so you wouldn’t think he’s better..” you sob, feeling it all come crashing down at the admittance of your envy. Arthur is taken aback by your statement, but Hosea seems unfazed. Only focused on making you feel better.

“It ain’t a game of favoritism, son. Dutch and I care for you boys equally. You’re real damn stupid for runnin’ off ‘n getting your ass beat, but that don’t mean Arthur’s any greater or lesser than the man you’re growing up to be, you understand?”

You nod slightly with another small sniffle, slowly pulling away from the hug. You wipe your eyes with your fingers on your clean hand, not keen on the idea of getting blood near your eyes. Hosea sighs as he inspects your face. You’re grateful he’s not upset with you, but you still feel guilty. You hadn’t even considered what a fuss you would’ve caused.

“Arthur,” Hosea starts, looking over towards the other boy, prompting him to look at Hosea with a quiet hum of acknowledgement. “Take Y/N back to my tent. Clean him up a bit, will you? I’ll let Dutch know he’s back” He lays out, leaving no room for disagreement.

Arthur copies you and nods, shuffling around you awkwardly and beginning to make his way back to camp. Tentatively, you follow behind. You’re not sure how you feel. It feels like a weight has been pulled off your shoulders, only to be replaced by a heavier weight of guilt for your jealousy.

Not a word is spoken between you two as you follow the younger boy back to Hosea’s tent. Your boots scuffing against the ground below until you slink down onto Hosea’s cot with a heavy sigh. Arthur wastes no time soaking an old washrag in alcohol and approaching you again. Carefully wiping the blood off your face.

“Sorry for..y’know- makin’ you jealous ‘n whatever. Never meant to..” He mutters quietly, focused on getting the dried blood off your skin. “It ain’t your fault.. Was just- scared, I guess..” you respond quietly, trying not to speak too much so as to not disrupt his work.

It felt uncomfortable to be getting cleaned up by the younger boy, but you can’t complain. Your leg mindlessly bouncing against the floor of Hosea’s tent. Sighing heavily from your nose as you let your sore body actually relax under Arthur’s care.

“You still up for that dominoes game?” You mumble quietly, a small smile spreading across your blood stained lips as you look up at Arthur hopefully. He stands up a bit straighter at your question before he rolls his eyes and gets back to helping you. “I thought you’d never ask.”

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finished this on 2%

Hope you like it !! :3

#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x male reader #dutch van der linde x male reader #hosea matthews x male reader #arthur morgan x male reader

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onegianthotmess · 1 month ago

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I have an image of Vil accidentally hurting Velvette’s feelings after being just a bit too harsh for the last time, likely sometime before his Overblot but definitely close to it. Something about how every part of her is a mess and that she should straighten up and try to be better. Really Vil was just projecting and his temper had gotten the better of him, but he barely realized what he’d said and the damage had already been done.

Velvette can’t take it anymore, so she decides to do exactly as her brother tells her. She dyes her natural blonde hair black and keeps it in two Dutch braids for a more clean look, wears her uniform properly; no rolled up sleeves and wearing the tie and blazer even though she’s sweating her ass off, and she goes quiet and completely polite. People barely even recognize her as she’s basically become this blank doll, barely reacting or speaking and simply doing as she’s told since being how she was before was a bother to the one person whom she loved more than anything, aside from her parents.

Even Vil himself doesn’t even realize it’s Velvette until he calls her name and she answers, expression and voice indifferent as she asks what Vil needs her for and what she should do. And Vil is taken aback because he’s used to his bouncy and energetic sister, full of big ideas and passion, with her brightly colored hair and sloppy, yet presentable, uniform and her big smile on her face. He isn’t used to her being completely void of any expression and not saying a word unless prompted or told to speak.

Vil asks what’s wrong and Velvette says that nothing is wrong and that she just started being “better” like people told her she was supposed to do. She asks again what Vil wants her to do and he tells her that it was something he could handle himself and that she could go back to what she was doing. And once she leaves, Vil goes to Rook to see if he could know anything about Velvette’s recent change, only to come up without an answer.

Rook basically told him, in his classic over dramatically poetic fashion, that Velvette’s changed overnight. She was herself one day and then completely different the next. The change was so drastic that even her room changed, from a messy creative process to perfectly clean. Her art and sewing supplies tucked away in her closet since she’d been told that they were too messy and took away time from important things in her words.

Vil gets even more frustrated as time goes by and he sees that Velvette barely engages in her hobbies, outside of fixing a torn seam or two when students ask, and barely even eats; only eating half of what she usually eats and avoiding her favorite foods altogether. She says it’s to be healthier, but barely eating and still having the same workout routine that requires you to eat a good amount to replenish the nutrients you need isn’t good.

At one point, Vil decides to just go to Velvette’s room and ask her what’s wrong himself. Thus resulting in the following scene:

“Velvette, what’s wrong?” Vil asked as he stood in front of his sister, who merely stared at him blankly like a lifeless doll.

She hadn’t been herself in about two weeks, silently sitting there or studying until someone needed her, then she did exactly as she was told. It was like she wasn’t even a person anymore, just a lifeless husk that followed orders and just sat there until it was needed again. Even her eyes grew cold, it was almost like she was undead without the vibrant gleam of energy in her eyes.

“Nothing is wrong, Vil,” Velvette replied blankly, standing with her hands clasped and back perfectly straight. “As I said before, I’m just better now.”

“Velvette, I don’t know where this idea of ‘better’ came from, but it isn’t better,” Vil stated firmly. “You haven’t been eating properly, nor have you been acting like you’re even a person anymore. I don’t know how this happened to you, but I’d like to know why this happened.”

Velvette blinked, “This is better. And it doesn’t matter why it happened if I’m better than the complete mess I was before.”

“Does that so-called ‘mess’ you were before include your hobbies?” Vil asked, growing more frustrated and concerned by the second. “Why are your art supplies and sewing supplies stuffed in the back of your closet?”

“They’re both messy and trivial processes that do nothing for me or my health,” Velvette answered. “I gain nothing from them, and the creative process is both unbecoming and a waste of time when I could be doing important things.”

“Such as?” Vil pried, wondering what things were more important than his sister doing things she genuinely and so passionately loved.

“Studying, doing extra credit, and making sure I’m good enough to stay in this dorm,” Velvette replied.

“Good enough to stay in Pomefiore?” Vil questioned, now confused.

“I can’t be a disappointment like I was before, so why bother with hobbies that make me nothing but a shameful disappointment to this dorm?” Velvette clarified, waving a dismissive hand before it returned to her side. “They’re useless hobbies anyways, especially with my lack of talent.”

“Oh, Velvette, you care completely blind!” Vil sighed, punching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I’d like my sister back, please.”

“Excuse me?” Velvette quietly asked, her voice barely audible.

Vil’s eyebrows furrowed as he continued, “You’re incredibly talented and you are anything but a disappointment to this dorm.”

“Vil, I’m going to have to ask you to go,” Velvette said quietly, her voice straining to remain indifferent.

“Why? So you can not eat?” Vil asked. “I’ve seen how little you’ve been eating recently and how you increased the intensity of your workout regimen.”

“Vil, please leave,” Velvette repeated, her hands clenching into tight fists at her sides.

“I’m not going to leave until you tell me what’s going on or you go back to your normal self,” Vil stated firmly, clearly not going anywhere. “I’d like to know just what has gotten into-”

SLAP!

Vil tensed as a the sharp crack of a hard backhanded slap echoed through Velvette’s room. His head was now turned to his left to face the wall where a full length mirror was hung, and what he saw repeated back at him explained the stinging in his cheek that he slowly began to feel. Velvette stood in front of him, her right arm still extended after backhanding her brother. There was also a slight blossoming of red slowly blooming on Vil’s right cheek. Velvette’s muscle was lean, so while she had a slimmer build, similar to Jamil, she was even stronger than Vil when it came to brute strength.

Vil slowly looked back to face Velvette, ready to ask her what was wrong with her, when he saw that she had tears brimming her eyes with an expression that portrayed betrayal, frustration, hate, and just a little bit of regretful love.

“Why are you never satisfied, Vil?” Velvette asked, lowering her arm and her voice adding to how hurt she seemed to be.

Vil stayed silent for a moment before he managed to reply, “What?”

“Why are you never satisfied with me?” Velvette asked. “I do as you say, I support you, I try to live up to your endlessly high expectations, but it’s never enough for you.” Vil couldn’t say anything. He could only stare in bewilderment as Velvette continued, “I thought that I’d finally gotten it right. I dyed my hair, cleaned up my room, shoved away my hobbies, began to religiously do that skincare routine you made up for me without missing a single day, wore my uniform properly no matter my discomfort, studied more and did all the extra credit I could get my hands on, and did everything you’ve asked me to do perfectly. I was polite, perfectly mannered, even found workarounds to that food you’re having everyone eat because I’m allergic to the main ingredient in all of it. I did all of that so you’d finally be happy to have me as your sister, and I’m still all wrong to you. Why?”

“I…I’ve never been dissatisfied with you,” Vil murmured, still shocked. “I’ve always been happy to have you as my sister.”

Velvette scoffed bitterly, “Really? All of those times you corrected me, told me I was failing your expectations and standards, berated me for being a complete mess both inside and out was you being happy and satisfied? Because, to me, it sounds like you’ll never be happy with me and I’ll always be your disappointment of a family member. Dad is fine, our older sister was always a role model to you, and Momma was the mother you never had since your bio mom fucking dipped. I’m the one who’s wrong, the one to fix, and yet you’re never satisfied with how I try to fix myself for you.”

“Why would you do that for me?” Vil asked, shock fading and starting to get more heated. “I’ve never done any of that to hurt you, I just want you to be the best version of yourself.”

“You say that, yet here we are!” Velvette seethed, throwing her hands up in the air. “You’ve done nothing these past few months but tell me that I’m disappointing you this way and that I should be doing things that way. Do you want a younger sister or a clone of yourself? Because the latter sounds like the more probable one based off of your behavior.”

“I only do all of that because I care and want you to be the best version of yourself, Velvette!” Vil shouted.

“Well, sorry to tell you, Big Brother, but we’re fresh out of new versions of Velvette!” Velvette yelled back. “Would you like to place your order for the next one, because we’re fresh out of ideas for new models!”

“You were perfect the way you were!” Vil argued. “I don’t want or need another version of you!”

“You were the one who said I was a complete mess, inside and out! That I should straighten up and be better!” Velvette shouted.

Vil grunted in frustration before he shouted, “I didn’t mean-”

SLAP!

Another sharp crack echoed through the room as Velvette backhanded her brother for a second time in the same place.

“Don’t you fucking tell me you didn’t mean it, bastard!” Velvette screamed, tears now streaming down her face. “You were the person I loved most and you were supposed to love and support me just as much as I do for you! Instead you’ve berated me, called me a disappointment, and made me feel like complete shit any time I try to fix myself all to please you! You were supposed to be my big brother, not a fucking critic of every little part about me!”

Vil blinked. He hadn’t meant to do any of that.

No. No, he didn’t want to hurt Velvette or her feelings, he was just a bit too harsh with his concern, even with his family. The stress from his work and the upcoming VDC definitely didn’t help. He’d mostly been projecting the past few weeks and now he’d realized that he’d hurt the one he was meant to care for and help guide.

Vil sighed guiltily, “Velvette, I-”

Before he could get another word in, his sister opened the door to her room and shoved him out, causing Vil to stumble a bit.

“Get the fuck out and don’t talk to me unless you want help to prepare for the VDC,” Velvette hissed venomously. “You’ll get what you want, just like always, you fucking poisonous tyrant. Have a great fucking evening and I hope you choke on your smoothie in the morning.”

Then Velvette tossed something out of her room before slamming and locking the door in Vil’s face, silently telling him to fuck off. Vil stood staring at the door for a moment, almost tempted to ask Velvette to let him back in so he could explain himself, but stopping once he heard quiet sobbing coming from behind the door.

The Housewarden just sighed, figuring it would be better to give Velvette the space she so clearly needed after their argument. Vil looked over his shoulder and moved to pick up what looked to be a picture that Velvette had tossed out of her room. Vil picked up the framed image and was taken aback once he flipped it around.

It was a picture of their family; their father, Velvette’s mother, their older sister, and the two of them all smiling at the camera. Though, it looked like Velvette stabbed where her face was with something, most likely a pen or something else of the sort. Was this the effect of his harshness? Is this what he’d done to his own family?

Vil just sighed defeatedly, taking the picture with him as he walked to his own room. While his expression was stone cold, he’d died a little inside at seeing just how badly he’d hurt his sister.

Maybe he could make it up to her after the VDC…

#twst #twst angst #twst oc #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #velvette schoenheit

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flo-zoinks · 27 days ago

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Bro lowkey I feel like rdr1 is sooo underrated. Maybe it's my personal opinion but I LOVE the desolation in the game and I love 1 more than 2 😭 is it weird?? Because a lot of people love 2

YES !!! I AGREE !! 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️

(had to look up what desolation meant) I LOVE it. John is totally alone in rdr1, then Jack later and the map and style I think perfectly encapsulates the worlds view on outlaw men in a time where they aren't wanted. I love love love at going through places like ojo del diablo wheres its nothing but a giant structure and my horse

I prefer rdr1 a lot more - personally because I think the humour / style matches me a lot more and my gosh I love the plot SO MUCH. Whilst I wish yes there were more things that followed in rdr2 like interactions, I think it contributes to the that desolation theme, especially with Jack.

The plot story of tracking down men you grew up with , across into foreign land and contributing perhaps an army worth in a foreign revolution, and all the characters you meet on the way I adore. Especially just how diverse the characters are and their little time of spotlight like Marshall Johnson or Nigel West Dickens. Getting to do such different things for them and exploring their characters (eg helping Nigel sell his tonics) had me hooked into the game for suree

The game is so underrated as u said I think because people play rdr2 first and then expect the game to be an exact sequel. NO ITS NOT !! ITS A SEPARATE GAME AND SHOULD BE PLAYED BEFORE (my first long ass post was about this I might link it). Luckilyyy with the PC release its ranked up a lot more fans, just perhaps a little too late 🙏😭.

Also the art style is gorgeous. It's a little more stylistic then rdr2, and the faces like John's puppy eyes are ADORABLE.

Rambling more but again I adore more then all things the dialogue and delivery of lines. The protagonist we come in with no information on him, and still learn very little. Theres no much character exposition, save for the old man taking him to fort worth perchance, so all we learn we learn along the way. The little clues dropped throughout the story, like John telling bonnie his background, Javier cursing out his children, Dutch speaking to John about Abigail has the players listening in and reacting to all dialogue a lot more then they would for any other game. We piece together an idea throughout the story and I love how it still manages to keep so much mystery that leaves the player so invested into finding out more, and shows John + others as such rounded unique characters.

The missions too never fail to disappoint!!!! Shooting up Blackwater, great!! Even the beginning missions just racing with Bonnie or going with the Marshall's men to Pike's basin was such an amazing and fun mission with choices throughout.

It's the one of the only media I've ever cried to, (the lion king live action was the only other😭 mufasa😭) and probably will hold that title for ever. I think I tried to cry at Arthur's, but I didnt however I was spoiled for that. I'm not sure If i wouldn't of cried if i didnt know tbf.

Uhm I'm yapping for no reason.. but in summary I AGREE WITH YOU YOURE SO RIGHT BOO❤❤

What do you think???? Thanks for talking to me 🤭

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reddeadsredhead · 1 month ago

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Headcanon(s) for Sean (Or the Van der Linde gang) during snow days/winter? (Do you think any of these outlaws would do anything for Christmas?)

D'aww! Okay:

Arthur, Sean and John have a good old-fashioned snowball fight during the winter, when things were more certain, maybe before the birth or conception of Jack. They were like brothers, and Sean was determined in building his little snow fort as high and secure as possible, trying to outdo the others in terms of snow-fortitude and majesty. He was probably one of the newest additions to the gang at the time, but learned to bond with these two quickly. Maybe 18 or 19, he was at the age where certain jokes were the most funny to him and would make some immature shapes on his fort xD

John: "wait, are those di-"

Sean: *pops out from behind to hurl a snowball directly in John's face* "Hahahaha! Gotcha, shithead!"

Sean learns the art of distraction! A very helpful tool that Hosea taught him well! Although Sean's methods are a bit different xD

And of course, the snowball fight starts because Sean was trying to throw a snowball at Pearson for not cooking the food fast enough and hits John instead xD we need more Sean and John brotherly interactions. The three of them shit talk each other, but they're laughing and squealing all the while. And I like to think Hosea and Dutch both join in on the fun, soon half the gang is having a blast playing in the snow while the other half is busy with work. Maybe they play in teams. Mac and Davey on the same team of course! They could play in duos, or as a two-team fight! Maybe it becomes a tradition, they make their own rules and it becomes almost like a sport.

Another headcanon: Sean is found passed out freezing in the snow one night, and big bro Arthur picks him up and takes him back to camp, wrapping his coat around him. I think it's the first time Arthur is genuinely scared for him and realizes he cares a great deal for the little weasel (but will never admit it outright.) He and Hosea take him in and warm him by the fire, get him some warm stew when he wakes up and generally keep him company. Can just imagine Hosea going "He's like a son to me Arthur." Sean seems to be worse for wear for a while but the gang is relieved when he starts cracking jokes again.

Everyone gravitates towards the fire during these winter months. I imagine one quiet night by the fire is when Sean starts to sing. He's a bit drunk, and normally self-conscious about his singing, but the booze and the cold of winter, along with everyone by the fire brings it out of him. The gang are genuinely surprised Sean has such a strong and sweet singing voice, and though it has the characteristic roughness of his speaking voice, it simply adds to the charm. He sings a little winter song that just feels right. Sean hadn't felt true community like this since he was back in Ireland with his Da's old gang, and it's very bittersweet. Maybe he starts to cry, and the gang doesn't really know why. But Sean singing brings the group together, and soon they all join in song as the snow falls on a dark winter night.

I know Secret Santa wasn't really a thing back in the lateteen hundreds or whatever but I like to imagine it was and the gang exchange gifts. It's usually small things, maybe little trinkets people were able to rob, or something crocheted or hand-sewn, based on people's skill and experiences. Dutch is the Santa, of course, so he decides who gives who presents. He thinks it would be nice if Arthur gets to give Sean a gift one year, and Arthur has no idea what to gift the little bastard, what he enjoys. He could certainly use some new clothes, but he comes to think there's nothing Sean would appreciate more than some quality time, as much as it annoys him, so the two go out fishing together (and Sean for once blows Arthur out of the water with his skills because what Arthur doesn't realize is that Sean and Darragh would go fishing all the time back in Ireland. He's genuinely shocked)

Either that or Arthur makes a sketch of Sean to give to him :) OR maybe a sketch of the both of them! and maybe that brotherly hug he asks for in The First Shall Be Last.

Thanks so much for the ask!

#rdr2 #sean macguire #arthur morgan #john marston #darragh macguire #dutch van der linde #red dead redemption 2 #hosea matthews

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