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"I'm too old for love, Tacitus... Too old to live without it.

But art will see me through, Tacitus. Surely it shall."

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Dutch: we're just normal men

Agent Milton: what do mean "normal men"?

Dutch: we're just innocent men

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Abigail Roberts at Horseshoe Overlook 🌱

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-So what’s wrong with you, you old fool?

-Go sleep it off, you drunken buffon.

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The Scientist’s Way

Hi hi hi 

So

I know I don’t really do anything here anymore but I was so inspired by @markodragic​ and their headcanons for Marko Dragic x Charles Chatenay that I couldn’t resist writing this short piece. It’s niche. It’s a bit angsty, a bit steamy, a bit fluffy, a bit of all the things I love the most ft. two of my favourite strangers. So this is for you, Cara. I hope you like it! 

This is a short fic about Charles and Marko’s first time together. 

Pairing: Marko Dragic x Charles Chatenay 

Word count: 739

Category: mostly fluff, a bit angsty/smutty. 

It wasn’t yet noon. The pale sun shone sleepily through the rafters of the small attic room, the one that belonged to the artist. Pigeons cooed on the rooftop, their little feet tip-tapping a tuneless rhythm as somewhere a church bell chimed and horses whinnied in the street below. The scientist lay on the bed.

The bed, the scientist noted, wasn’t much bigger than the ugly cot he used at Doverhill. The artist, surely, was used to sharing the beds of others. The mattress was thin and it sagged in the middle, and the metal springs hung silent after chorusing their incessant creak, creak, creak. The scientist thumbed the white sheet, his eyes scanning every fibre. His back was turned to the artist, who had leapt of the bed triumphantly and was brewing a pot of coffee on the tiny stove. He hummed to himself as he arranged porcelain cups, offering to replace the coffee altogether with brandy, for today was such a marvelous day, indeed it was.

“You know,” the artist mused. “I don’t believe I have ever fucked someone like you before.”

He glanced over at the scientist, admiring the pale arches and shadows of his body. His freckled back, his hip bones that protruded slightly, just visible above the sheets. That glorious head of the darkest hair, now disheveled and shining in the sunlight. He'd meant what he'd said. The scientist intrigued him, despite the fact he'd just explored every inch of him.

It had been a morning straight from a book. The scientist had arrived early, his face set with purpose. The artist had accommodated him without hesitation, though he had murmured with surprise at how eagerly the other man had pushed him backwards against the kitchen table, their kisses racing to keep up with one another. He’d been so ripe, and it had been so easy, after so many weeks of waiting and missed suppers and unopened letters and ignored looks across the street. When the artist had entered him he’d bitten down into the pillow and moaned deliriously. Their bodies became one, a tangle of sweat and wordless panting and the ravenous slap of skin on skin. 

The scientist rolled onto his back, his thick brow furrowed as he studied the ceiling. He ran his tongue over his top lip and the artist smiled, marvelling at how this awful city still managed to give him the most sumptuous gifts.

“I’ve…” the scientist began. “…never fucked anyone before.” His words were said carefully, deliberately, a kingdom away from his usual babble.

The artist paused, his hand hovering above the coffee pot, suspended in time. He looked back at the other man, a grin finding its way onto his face.

“Well, then this calls for champagne, not mere brandy! A glorious day!”

The scientist didn’t smile, didn’t move at all. He looked at the artist with a look of pure hurt that made the smaller man’s stomach twist.

“Do not laugh at me.”

He rolled over again, pulling the sheets up to his shoulders. He was completely still. The artist went to his side.

He ran his hand along the horizon of the scientist, watched how his fingers dipped and rose with his body. He lay next to him, wrapping his arms around the rigid body and breathing in his peppermint scent, his lips on his pulse as he kissed his neck.  

“Mon cheri…I would never dare to laugh.”

The scientist simpered, turning his head to meet the artist’s lips. The kiss was deep, the neediness replaced with something else the scientist couldn’t place. The artist cupped his cheek, his eyes soft.

“Did I hurt you? When I…” he trailed off, his usual smirk returning as his hand travelled down the scientist’s body, causing him to shiver.

The scientist blushed crimson and the artist couldn’t help but chuckle, his eyebrow raised.

“Hurt isn’t the right word, I do not think. I have been excavated!” the scientist declared very seriously, and the artist laughed so hard and so suddenly he almost fell off the bed.

The scientist did not laugh, but he sat up slightly, leaning on one elbow. He took a deep breath, as if preparing to give a speech. The artist looked at him expectantly.

“I want…” said the scientist. “…I would like to do that again.” 

The artist grinned, his plans for the rest of the day melting away as the sheets were pulled over his head, the coffee and brandy long forgotten in the delirious hours in the small attic room. 

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Sorry about the obscure pairing but do you have headcanons for Marko and Chatenay?

don't be sorry abt that, I love obscure pairings! ✨✨ ive had an idea for this particular one for a while but I’m gonna put it all under a cut bc I got a lil carried away skgkgkhk

since they're both around in saint denis at the same time its not totally unlikely that they'd bump into each other

maybe marko would wander into charles' art exhibition out of curiosity and charles would take notice of him among the crowd

I have a feeling charles would be the one to approach marko (although 'accost' might be a better word)

he takes one look at marko, his prominent nose, thick brows and intense eyes and he knows right then and there that this man is his new muse

and of course charles is not at all shy about expressing this very plainly to a stranger

initially marko is taken aback by this odd little man who is insistently going on about capturing his beauty on canvas

he barks a few insults and obscenities, but it doesn't seem have the same effect on charles as it does with most people - in fact it only seems to endear him to charles even more

marko’s usual defensive hostility does start to falter with charles’ flirtation though

he really isn't used to being complimented, and this chatenay fellow is certainly... charming. it stirs up a strange feeling inside him

eventually after some minor pestering he finds himself agreeing to drinks if only out of curiosity, and the two of them ditch the exhibition to go to some quiet bar nearby

it takes marko a drink or two to completely drop the snarkiness, but after chatting for a while he starts to realise that he kinda likes this guy

charles is funny, talented, interesting, and, loath as he is to admit it, quite handsome

they talk and joke and even bond a little over the fact that they’re both immigrants who have been pretty unimpressed with life in america so far

charles finds himself falling even more for marko too as he comes to find that marko isn’t just physically a good muse for painting, he’s an incredibly intelligent man with fascinating ideas

charles sympathises strongly with the fact that nobody seems to understand marko’s work - it makes him want to lavish marko with support and love, to be the one person who finally gives him the recognition he deserves

meanwhile marko himself can’t quell his growing attraction to charles as the night goes on, he hasn’t had a lover or even a crush in so many years and it’s all just exhilarating if a bit nerve-wracking

he used to be sure that romance was a waste of his valuable time but the more the spark grows between himself and charles the more he starts to really rethink that opinion

after a few suggestive whispers and eager drunken kisses in the alley outside of the bar, the night ends with them going back to charles’ apartment

however despite being tipsy, marko probably wouldn’t have the confidence to go much further than that since he’s painfully shy about romance but charles would be understanding

after all, he may be more used to short passionate flings than long term relationships with his lovers but he feels something special about marko

he just knows that this man will continue to captivate him for a very long time

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A noon under the cold sun of Horseshoe Overlook.

Commission for @markodragic <3

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Arthur Morgan + That Red Shirt

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Do you have any favourite red dead ships?

Off the top of my head:

Vandermatthews

Solly (Sadie x Molly) - I know they've never interacted but shhhh

John x Abigail x Sadie because it makes me happy

Idk, I'm not massively invested in fandom ships but these are the ones I enjoy thinking about!

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Portrait of Mary that I started a couple months back and finally got the time to finish 🌻

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hes doneee!!! okay i’ve never drawn a background before so pretend it looks better, alright? xD

Epilogue Jack will always be one of my fave characters, and god damn, he deserves more love<3

please don’t repost x

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some more Sadie <3

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incredibly underrated character: Captain Monroe

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Van der Linde Gang 1895 | Photographed by Hosea