Jun 9
Good gods I’m late for this post but happy gay month to my gays Robert Townsend and @ask-abraham-woodhulll
This blog is not dead guys I promise 💔
seen from Spain
seen from Oman
seen from South Africa
seen from Canada
seen from Brazil
seen from Maldives
seen from Germany
seen from Ukraine
seen from Philippines
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Nicaragua
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Saudi Arabia
Good gods I’m late for this post but happy gay month to my gays Robert Townsend and @ask-abraham-woodhulll
This blog is not dead guys I promise 💔
Roughly half an hour after closing, Robert sees Abraham descend from the stairs.
“Hello, Abraham. We haven’t gotten to be just us in quite a while.”
He’s sitting at one of the tables, a preset droughts game in front of him.
“Care to play?”
@ask-robert-townsend
Abraham gives a small smirk, hoping he’d be victorious in their little game of draughts this time.
…but he was also ready to ask Robert about….if he found Abe attractive.
Abraham pulled the chair far from the the table, then down, analyzing the draughts board with a keen eye. He then glanced up at Robert, saying, “I’d be delighted to play.”
As Woodhull made his first move, he asked, “So, Robert…let’s get to the point.”
He knew Robert may be hesitant to discuss the matter, which just made this even more fun.
“You bastard.!”
Robert yells, a slight rasp in his voice. He strikes the Major across the face before shoving a freshly printed paper in his arms.
“We don’t speak for a month, then I get word of an execution!?”
((I think Robert might go insane chat. In his defense ppl weren’t supposed to DIE over his lie 😭))
“Good evening, Mr. Townsend,” There’s no warmth behind André’s smile. “Angry, aren’t you? I thought Quakers weren’t supposed to throw hands.”
The crisp, chilly air bit at Abraham through the evening: He could practically feel the blood freezing against his skin. Every breath was almost intensified when he could even see his inhales and exhales.
He limped towards Robert’s tavern, still horribly wounded as he did so. Abe ran a hand through his hair, and— shit, he got the gore all over his hair, now…his looks would need heavy fixing after this.
Abraham’s entire body shivered as he bent down to pick up a stone, his hand holding onto a pole in order to prevent him from falling. In fact, he grasped the metal for dear life. But his hand did grab a pebble from the floor. A smooth but hard rock, this would steal Robert’s attention.
He eyed a lit-up window in the tavern, and could barely see Robert’s face, seemingly working at a desk a little far from the glass.
Abraham threw a pebble at Robert’s window, wincing at how loud it was. As he tensed at the wince, he also felt his entire body numb with it, and Lord, did it hurt. He clutched a certain place on his chest he knew was critically bruised, practically radiating waves of pain to his entire body.
He knew Robert would notice him—the sight was too bloody to miss.
— Culper Sr.
@ask-abraham-woodhulll
Robert, momentarily distracted by the routine he’s grown used to, quickly has his attention stolen when a piercing noise splits the comfortable silence, emitting from the far window. His head jolts upwards, examining the scene intently, determining if the sound signaled threat or not. Spotting a disheveled silhouette, he made his way to the door.
He opens the door ajar, just to see who it is and their condition, before identifying exactly who they are.
“Jesus- Abe!?”
Robert quickly moves to help the man, bringing him inside and assessing his condition and bandaging his injuries.
“Good god, what’s happened to you??”
Robert stirrs awake the morning of, Abraham still laying to him, though already awake.
((Too tired to put thought into this))
@ask-robert-townsend
Woodhull is still sleeping next to Robert, his eyelashes calmly resting over his cheeks. He seemed tired after their…activities of the night, soundly getting lost in his slumber.
Even as the rays of dawn illuminated the room, Woodhull remained in his repose.
((Its a little while later))
Robert notices André coming through the door of the tavern, fixing him a quick cup of Madeira before he inevitably orders it anyway.
“Any new leads, Major?”
He asks halfheartedly, not truly engaged in the conversation.
@ask-robert-townsend
((gah my inbox is fucking with me…I literally just saw my eighty billion asks sorry))
André laughs slightly when he saw Townsend had beaten him to the Madeira and takes a seat. “No new leads for me, but the Continentals might think they have new leads. I managed to gain access to a confidential party of the officers through my husband.”
At the tavern, Townsend serves the Major a mug of Madeira, staying by the table.
He waits for people to divide into their own conversations, speaking low.
“I think it would be best for me to go on hiatus from the ring for a bit…”
“Hm?” The Major startles, snapping his sketchbook shut. “Hiatus? Whatever for, Mr. Townsend? The cause needs you.”
sire, abe's son has a tumblr acc. who made one for him // mod, new sprout askblog ^_^ by me
is he even old enough for tumblr?
I haven’t the knowledge of who’d made the account for him, but it’s best to inform Abraham if you haven’t already.
(( yayayayayay !!! Turnblogs coming back 🥹 ))