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Papercraft Micah and my Rdr oc Tobias

(Also why are there so many Rdr oc’s named Tobias 😭😭 I know of atleast 2 others)

Papercraft Micah base credit to @/vaquerobuckaroo

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The song ‘heaven on their minds’ from Jesus Christ superstar fits vanderbell so much

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Little Micah Bell Chibi I made

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Saytr Sean from @meeks-just-wants-to-scroll & @eggsaladsweetie ‘s monster AU

(base credits to @/_doodles_i_guess_ on tiktok

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Chibi drawings I made of each of the Mouthwashing characters :]

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Thomas Jefferson from @/rdotvel high school au

Base credits to @/mellon-soup

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I just got into Hamilton and I love Jefferson so much he’s so sassy

(Credits to @albanenechi for the base!!)

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Adam drawing cause he’s brought me back into my Hazbin Hotel phase 😭

+my traditional sketch

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Math doodles but my art style changes every time I draw and I only draw curly and daisuke

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Whumptober Day 21: Body Horror - Kieran Duffy - Part 1

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Eye horror, implied/referenced torture, cuts, bruises, depictions of gore

Setting: Chapter 4 - Shady Belle

A/n: I have literally no knowledge of medical stuff around the time of rdr so keep that in mind when reading the last few lines of this fic

Kieran can barely register what’s happening anymore. He hears voices around him, shouting? He thinks. But he doesn’t really know. Everything is fuzzy, his hearing especially. He can’t see, he’s tired, even though he’s spent most of his here unconscious.

He doesn’t remember much of the past few days, or weeks, he can’t tell how long he’s been here. The last thing he remembers is Jacks party. He finally let himself relax a bit, for the first time since joining the gang.

He’s always been awkward with parties, preferring to be on the sidelines. Especially in a party held by a bunch of people who hate his guts. But this time he decided to at least attempt to join in the festivities. Shockingly, it didn’t go all that bad. He drank some and actually managed to talk to some of the gang members.

He remembers talking the most with Sean. Although the man had been one of the first to throw insults at Kieran once he had been brought back to camp, Sean doesn’t seem to mind Kieran all that much.

But the good faith of the night had been destroyed for Kieran when he went out to the forest to take a piss. He hadn’t gone to far off from camp but a group of O’Driscolls found him and knocked him out.

They’ve been messing with Kieran the past few days. He knows they’ve beat him a shit ton, and they even stabbed his eye, with a needle he thinks. That’s about the only thing he can clearly remember.

It hurt like shit and he felt the eye itself slowly deflate. He can still feel the leftover liquid, which is already half-dry and sticky, on his cheek. He’s in so much pain, everywhere. He feels hot and cold at the same time.

The shouting and bangs get louder and closer. Kieran would be scared, but he has nothing left in him to fear, he’s fully out of it. Suddenly, the door of the cabin, room? Whatever it is, shoots open.

He hopes it’s the Van Der Linde’s coming to save him, but he doesn’t hope too hard because he doesn’t think any of them care enough to come for him.

He hears muffled words around him and sees blurred faces walking towards him but Kieran passes out before he’s able to tell who’s they are.

-

“Jesus Christ…” Arthur mumbles, being the first to step into the cabin Kieran is being kept in.

He sees the scrawny man on a chair, leaning forward since he’s not able to keep his body upright anymore. Kieran is covered in cuts and bruises on the skin that is visible and Arthur can’t even imagine what is under his clothes. The worst part, that makes Arthur grimace and look away, is one of Kieran’s eyes that is deflated in its socket, covered in blood and what seems like puss, or whatever liquid, streaming down from it.

Bill enters the room soon after, being the second to see Kieran’s body.

“Fuck.. is he alive?” He says, in an unusual tone, seemingly worried about Kieran.

“Dunno, haven’t checked yet,” Arthur replies, walking over to Kieran’s limp body and grabbing his wrist. “Barely, we need to get him to camp. Quick.”

Arthur begins to undo the ropes binding Kieran to the chair, Bill quickly scurrying over to help him.

Arthur picks Kieran up, not needing Bill to help because of how light the younger man is, and walks out of the cabin.

Charles, the only other man willing to join them in getting Kieran, is standing by his horse Taima and Branwen who he found off to the side. When he spots the two holding Kieran he moves towards them.

“They got him good huh.” Charles says, commenting on the body.

“You think he said anything?” Arthur asks.

“Doubt it, he didn’t seem to care much for the O’Driscolls.” Charles replies.

Bill stays quiet, watching Kieran intently as Arthur places him on the front of his horse, getting on behind so he can hold the man upright so he doesn’t fall off.

Bill and Charles mount their own horses, the latter leading Branwen along behind him, and the group begins their short ride back to camp.

The ride is quiet, it has an almost sad aura. They had begun warming up to Kieran the past few weeks, so it was hard seeing him like this.

As they make it to the front of camp, people begin noticing them. They hitch up their horses and Arthur gets off his own, holding Kieran.

“Mrs. Grimshaw!” He yells out. “We need help, he’s boutta die!”

“Holy hell, they fucked him up bad” Sean exclaims as he looks at the body.

Sadie quietly watches everything go down, feeling a bit bad for Kieran now that they’ve both gone through things due to the O’Driscolls.

“Well looks who’s back!” Dutch says, walking towards the group. “The O’Driscoll, went scurrying back to his own.”

“Dutch” Arthur says, wearily.

“Looks like they don’t want him no more, I bet he talked all about us.”

“Dutch. Lay off on him”

“Once an O’Driscoll, always an O’Driscoll , don’t tell me you’ve softened up on him Arthur.”

Arthur doesn’t reply, walking to his tent still carrying Kieran, followed by Mrs. Grimshaw and Reverend Swanson.

Arthur places Kieran on his cot, Grimshaw closing the tent flap behind them for some sort of privacy.

Reverend prays over the body quietly, clearly horrified by the sight of it.

Reverend and Grimshaw quickly get to work trying to keep Kieran alive while Arthur stands off to the side silently watching.

They take the top layer of his clothes off, assessing the damages, bruises littering Kieran’s body, along with cuts, some deeper like one across his side, and some just scratches.

Deeming the eye injury the most important problem for now, they get to trying to fix that.

Mrs. Grimshaw pours gin on her hand and begins moving to Kieran’s eye socket to get the deflated eye out. As she touches it Kieran wakes up, screaming.

“Jesus Christ! Arthur! Hold him down!” Mrs. Grimshaw exclaims as Arthur rushes over to hold Kieran down to the cot.

Revered quickly moves to get morphine, injecting Kieran with it who passes out again, quickly.

The rest of the procedure goes well enough, Kieran now lying on cot, still unconscious, with almost all of his body bandaged up.

“He might not make it” Reverend says to Arthur and Mrs. Grimshaw who are still in the tent, just having finished.

“We’ll make sure he does, he’s useful around camp” Grimshaw replies, trying to not show too much care for Kieran.

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Whumptober Day 20: Emotional Angst - Arthur Morgan - Part 2

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Referenced rape, rape aftermath, nightmares, recovery

Setting: Chapter 4 - Shady Belle

A/n: I love father figure Hosea so much

A week has passed since everything happened and life for Arthur was back to normal, almost. The pains in his body have calmed down though the marks on his wrists are still there, barely. Although on the outside Arthur looks mostly normal, he’s been having nightmares. Sure, he used to get them before, but they weren’t all that frequent. Now he’s had a nightmare every night since that day. And they’ve all been about the same.

He walks through the swamp, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. Suddenly a dirty, creepy, shack comes into his point of view along with a scrawny man standing in front of it. Without even speaking the man invites Arthur in and he follows before promptly passing out.

Arthur awakens again, looking around the shack. He can’t move, no matter how hard he tries. Arthur thrashes around and the old man comes into view, leaning over Arthur and silently giggling. Everything gets distorted, the man hets larger and is looming over Arthur who begins screaming.

Arthur opens his eyes, his body shooting up. He sits up in his bed, quickly looking around the room. He’s alone.

His throat feels sore, he probably ended up actually screaming out loud. Arthur takes a few breaths attempting to calm himself. Light peeks through the closed curtains showing it’s time for Arthur to get up.

Normally he would automatically get up and to work but he doesn’t want to. He hasn’t been wanting to the past few days. He feels lethargic, which is very unusual for him.

Arthur slowly gets out of bed, putting his shoes, gun belt, and hat on since he didn’t bother stripping down to his union suit to sleep. He doesn’t feel comfortable taking even the top layer of his clothes off.

He moves the chair away from the door, where he’s been placing it the last few nights, and steps into the hallway. Arthur walks down the stairs, briefly greeting Mary-Beth and Tilly in the kitchen before stepping outside. He takes a breath, calming his still racing heart, and steps towards his horse, planning to go out hunting for a bit.

Hosea walks towards Arthur, who spots the older man coming.

“Arthur!” Hosea calls out, trying to not let Arthur away before he talks to him.

“Hosea” Arthur greets, turning around to face him.

“We need to talk. You’ve been.. off lately. I’m worried”

Arthur’s breath hitches, not having thought anyone noticed past the first few days. Although, he thinks, if anyone was to notice it would be Hosea. The man has always noticed when Arthur was even a bit off, since his childhood.

“It’s nothin’ to worry about Hosea, really, just been having some nightmares”

But Hosea isn’t buying it, Arthur can tell. Hosea sighs somewhat dramatically. “You know what, how about we go for a ride together” Hosea says, moving to his horse, Silver Dollar.

Arthur gives in because he knows that Hosea will keep pushing, and a ride with another person sounds nice at the moment since he’s been mostly avoiding everyone in camp. “Sure”

The two men get on their saddles, riding away from the house. They ride in silence for a bit until them come upon the enterance to the swamp.

“Let’s go around the swamp” Arthur says. Hosea picks up worry in Arthur’s tone. He nods, turning Silver Dollar to the side, and continues riding alongside Arthur.

They continue in silence, Arthur not yet willing to speak up and Hosea giving Arthur some time to think. After a few minutes, Hosea speaks up.

“I remember once when you were younger, before we took in John, you got kicked by your horse but refused to tell me and Dutch.”

Arthur lets out a snort, easing up a bit. “I was embarrassed, i guess I thought you would lecture me”

“And it was obvious what happened, you avoided the horse for almost a week, and you were stumbling around the whole time.”

Arthur lets out another laugh.

“But eventually we got you to tell us, you were on the verge of tears, but we reassured you that we weren’t mad,” Hosea continues with the story. “No matter what you’re worried about right now, I won’t be mad, trust me”

Arthur’s smile turns to a small frown. He stays quiet but just as Hosea opens his mouth to speak again Arthur talks.

“I met this guy, in the swamp”

Hosea closes his mouth, looking at Arthur, attentively listening to what he will say.

“Real odd fellow… basically skin and bones, and lived in this shack that looked about as old as him. He… he invited me in for a meal, and I accepted.. for whatever reason.. thinkin’ that it couldn’t hurt”

Arthur goes quiet for a second. Hosea is patient though, giving Arthur all the time he needs to form his words.

“I guess I was wrong, he knocked me out as I stepped into the shack, I think it was a frying pan… I woke up some time later and.. uh.. I was on his bed… there were chains.. I think.. tying up my arms and legs.. I couldn’t move.”

Arthur goes quiet again, hating how weak he sounds.

Hosea doesn’t push Arthur to say any more, fairly confident that he understands what happened. Hosea looks devastated.

“Oh.. oh Arthur… my boy”

Arthur breaks at Hosea’s few words, as the older man moves his horse beside Arthur’s and gives Arthur a hug.

Both horses come to a stop, everything goes still and silent.

After a while Arthur pulls away, his eyes wet, but Hosea doesn’t mention it. Instead he begins talking again.

“How about we go into Saint Denis and watch a show, my treat”

“I ain’t a kid Hosea”

“So do you not want to go?”

“No I’ll.. I’ll go”

Hosea smiles and Arthur looks away somewhat bashfully.

The father and son ride off, continuing their journey to Saint Denis.

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I don’t normally post my art but here’s a few little mouthwashing doodles

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Whumptober Day 16: Swamp/Necrosis - Arthur Morgan - Part 1

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Implied rape, rape aftermath, blood

Setting: Chapter 4 - Shady Belle

A/n: Arthur my beloved ☹️

Arthur wakes up, his back stiff. He sits up, wincing slightly and stretching. ‘Where am I?’ He wonders, looking around. He’s in the middle of the swamp but he doesn’t remember why he’s here. He tries to recall the previous day but he has no memory of being around this part of the swamp. He keeps trying to rack his head for any bit of information before suddenly he remembers.

The second this memory fills his head, he starts to feel more pains throughout his body that he didn’t realize were there previously. His head hurts like shit, so do his wrists, and worst of all his ass feels like it on fire. He feels humiliated.

Arthur slowly pushes himself off of the swamp floor, wincing. He whistles for his horse, who comes stomping through the trees and right towards him. He gives the horse a pat on the neck before trying to get onto the saddle. It takes a few tries but eventually he manages. He doesn’t fully sit down on the saddle because the pressure hurts but he hovers above it as the horse trots through the swamp.

He decides to head into town to get cleaned up a bit before going back to camp. He doesn’t want the gang to see him like this, so weak. He can’t believe he let this happen to himself, especially by a scrawny old man. He shivers as the image of the man passes through his head. He hates how scared of him he feels, he shouldn’t feel this way.

He shouldn’t have let his guard down. This stuff happens to women all the time, to his disgust, but he’s never heard of it happening to a grown man. He feels lesser, weak, little, all kinds of things a man of his stature should feel. After all he’s meant to be strong, to protect others, not to be the one in need of protecting.

As his horse enters the streets of Saint Denis, he looks for somewhere that he can buy a bath. He feels dirty, he wants to scrub away at his body until all that’s left is bone. Arthur rides up to the Bastille Saloon, weakly getting off his horse and tying it up. He enters the saloon, and walks up to the bartender. “One,“ He clears his throat, his voice scratchy and weak from not being used all morning and being used all too much the previous night. “One bath” He passes over the 50 cents and the man passes him a key and points him in the direction of the baths.

He quickly hobbles up the stairs and practically runs into the bath room. He shuts and locks the door behind him, now standing alone in the room. He lets out a sigh before slowly beginning to strip his clothes off. He grimaces as his shirt comes off and he sees dark bruises around his wrists. His mind wanders back to what happened before quickly pushing it out of his thoughts. Along with the bruises on his wrists, he sees more bruises throughout his torso along with a few bite marks which he quickly averts his gaze from. He can blame the other marks on him just getting in a fight, but he can’t do the same for the bites.

Arthur quickly takes his boots off before moving to his pants.

He hesitates taking his pants off but he knows he has to. He unbuckles his belt, throwing it off to the side, before pulling down his pants. Just as they’re halfway down his legs he hears something from the hallway.

“Need any help sweetheart?”

He frantically pulls his pants back up, before answering.

“Uh n-no,” He clears his throat again. “No.”

He mentally curses at himself for stuttering. After a few seconds he hears footsteps walking away and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He pulls down his pants again, this time fully taking them off. His legs don’t look as bad as his torso but he doesn’t dare to look behind him.

He moves to the bath, stepping into it and slowly lowering himself in. He quickly relaxes into the warm water, letting out a sigh, content. As he sits in the water he momentarily forgets about everything, allowing himself to be calm.

That calmness fades as the stinging starts again. He’s tried his best to ignore it up until now but he just can’t anymore. A painful stinging feeling is coming from a place he doesn’t want to think about right now but the feeling brings him back to reality.

He grabs a bar of soap beside him and begins scrubbing as hard as he can. He scrubs until his skin feels raw but he still doesn’t feel clean. He cleans behind him and as he pulls his hand back he sees blood on it. He cringes at the sight, although he’s seen so much blood in his life that he’s basically desensitized to it now, this is different.

He quickly does his best to finish cleaning up, doing a fairly sloppy rest of the job, before hobbling out of the tub and putting his clothes back on, which makes him feel just as dirty as he was before the bath.

He leaves the saloon, hopping back on his horse, slowly, as to not make the pain worse, and begins making his way back to camp.

He ends up taking the long way back as he doesn’t want to go back into the swamp. He feels dumb for doing it, but he just can’t bear going back there yet. Not much scares Arthur anymore, but this, for whatever reason, does.

Immediately, when he makes it back to camp, he gets off the horse, tying it to a pole, and rushes into the house, up the stairs, and into his room, closing the door behind him. He knows he got weird looks from people around camp as he practically ran in, but he can’t find it in him to care.

He still doesn’t feel safe, though. He hates the feeling, the thought that someone could break into the room and everything that happened the night previous could happen again. He knows it’s very, very, unlikely, but that’s doesn’t calm his nerves. He grabs a wooden chair and places it up against the door knob, then shuts the curtains. This makes him feel at least a bit better, though he is still weary.

He lets out a sigh, takes off his hat, and decides he should probably try to get some actual rest. Arthur lays down on the bed, more comfortable than the swamp floor he ‘slept’ on last night, and, after a while of tossing and turning, manages to fall into a restless sleep.

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Whumptober Day 15: Childhood Trauma - Micah Bell

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Child abuse, dog trauma, reference to dog abuse

Setting: Pre-Rdr2 / Chapter 3 - Clemens Point

A/n: I like the idea of Micah’s name being Abel before he inherited the name Micah (reference to The Devils by Amras) but for this fic his name was Cain because it fits with the story :>

(This is a part 1 to my previous Morbell post for day 8, but can be read separately)

Cain Bell is sneaking up to the property of a barn on the outskirts of a small town. At only 10 years old, this isn’t his first robbery but none of his previous ones have been credited to himself, they’re all said to have been done by Micah Bell Jr., his father.

Cain and his brother, Amos, are both competing to get the name of Micah Bell the 3rd, they’ve been competing since childhood. Their grandfather had the name, who passed it down to his son, and now it’s being passed down to whichever one of the twins turns out to be the better outlaw. Cain feels like he’s been fighting for the name since he was born, but it feels like his brother doesn’t have the same want for it.

Amos has never been the competitive type, he has complained multiple times about going on robberies, that is until his grandfather beat the complaints out of him.

Cain jumps over the fence of the property, now officially in. He looks back towards where his father is in the forest. Cain has been in-trusted to do this job on his own, he just has to get in, get the money, and get back out, easy enough right? That is until an unexpected factor comes sprinting towards him, a guard dog. His father didn’t tell him that there would be a dog on the property.

Cain tries to get back over the fence but before he’s able to the dog is already on him, biting his leg. Cain does his best to hold back a scream as he topples back over the fence and off of the property. The dog continues barking at Cain as he covers his mouth with a hand, letting out pained whimpers.

——————

Cain sits up on his bed, tired, rubbing his eyes. His leg is bandaged up from the dog bite that he got the previous night. He can’t remember much from after the bite, but he does remember his dad yelling at him. He always remembers those moments.

Abel walks up beside Cain.

“Are you okay?” He asks, worried for his brother, but all Cain lets out is a tired “I’m fine” before turning away from his brother.

On cue, their grandfather bursts through the door, making the two young boys flinch.

“Abel, Cain, get up! We’re going hunting”

“But.. Cain’s hurt” Able says, wearily since he knows not to talk back to his grandfather.

The old man turns to fully face Able and stares at him “what did you just say?”

“Nothing” Able quickly replies, turning away from his grandfather.

“It’s not my fault Cain wasn’t quick enough to kill that mutt before it bit him, because of his accident, we didn’t get the money. Now get up” Their grandfather walks out of the room.

Able looks over at Cain, giving his a sorry look, before walking out of the room, leaving Cain alone again.

Cain gets up from the bed, wincing as his hurt foot hits the ground. He hobbles out of the room as quick as he can, which isn’t very quick.

Once he gets out of the house, he gets onto his horse and him, his brother, and his grandfather leave for the forest.

——

Cain moves slowly, aiming his rifle for a deer a few feet away from him. He moves forward but suddenly his leg gets caught on a thorn bush. Cain lets out a surprised shout, falling over and alerting the deer who runs away.

Abel quickly rushes over to Cain after hearing the shout and offers his brother a hand to help him up but Cain pushes him away, getting up on his own.

Their grandfather walks towards them and Cain freezes, scared.

The wildlife in the area all fly or run away from the area, leaving it barren and quiet apart from the old man practically screaming at the young, hurt, child.

Cain holds back tears threatening to spill, his leg bleeding from the cuts in his already hurt leg. Cains grandfather grabs him by the arm, dragging him back over to their horses, Abel follows quietly behind.

The ride is quiet, Abel and Cain not knowing where they’re going, until they pull up to a familiar homestead.

“You’re going back in there and getting the money you failed to get yesterday.”

Cain freezes on his horse, not replying.

“What are you waiting for, go!”

Cain hobbles off of his horse, wincing as his feet hit the floor. He slowly wobbles over to the fence, wearily climbing back over it, just as he did last night. And just like last night the dog sprints towards Cain, teeth bared and barking.

But unlike last night, Cain pulls a gun out and shoots the dog before it’s able to bite him again.

-

Micah jolts awake, his arm hitting a bottle beside him which smashes to the floor. He’s sitting at a small table in camp, where he passed out the previous night. He quickly sits up, looking around camp as if any of his relatives are there watching him. Micah pushes himself up off of the chair, and walks over to Pearson’s wagon, grabbing a bottle of beer.

He pops the lid off and drinks as much of it as possible in one go when something pokes him in the leg. Micah flinches, the phantom pain from the bite which healed long ago causing him to move. He looks down to see a dog who looks similar to the one from his past, a dog who shares the same name as a boy the world forgot long ago.

Usually Micah would kick the dog, the underlaying fear showing as anger, but today he doesn’t have enough energy in him, with the memory so fresh in his mind.

Micah almost runs into the trees beside camp with the bottle of beer he took, trying to escape the ghosts of his past.

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Whumptober Day 8: Sleep Deprivation - Morbell

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: reference to bad parenting/childhood trauma, small reference to dog abuse

Setting: Chapter 3 - Clemens Point

A/n: There is not enough Morbell content istg

(This is a part 2 to day 15, which focuses on Micah’s nightmare, but can be read separately)

Arthur startles awake to the sound of something shattering near his tent. He sits up and looks around, his vision still blurry from having just woken up. He sees Micah walking off to Pearsons wagon, a smashed bottle beside the small table that Micah is walking away from.

It’s not uncommon for him to see Micah awake in the middle of the night, since he barely sees Micah sleep. Though he does remember seeing the man sleeping just a few hours back when he, himself, went to sleep. Micah assumedly drank himself to sleep, as he has done a few times now from what Arthur’s seen.

He watches Micah grab another bottle of beer from the wagon, and sees Cain, the camp dog, nudge up to Micah’s leg. Arthur assumes Micah’s going to hurt the dog, as he usually does when it gets near him, but instead he seems to freeze up slightly before scurrying away to the forest beside the camp.

Arthur noticed Micah seemed almost scared of the dog, which shocked him as Micah didn’t seem to show fear of anything. He supposed that maybe he should have assumed Micah was scared of Cain, looking back on it. He always seemed weary around the dog, apart from tormenting it he hated going anywhere near it.

Arthur decided that he doesn’t care enough to further investigate this and he promptly goes back to sleep.

—

It’s been a week or two since Arthur woke up to Micah startling awake, and he hasn’t seen the man sleep since. He’s seen Micah almost fall asleep, but it’s always followed with the man finding something to do to keep himself awake.

Sure, it’s common for Micah to not sleep for long periods, but for some reason this time around Arthur feels somewhat worried. He doesn’t know why he’s worried, it’s Micah Bell for fucks sake, but he is. Arthur thinks that he doesn’t sleep because of nightmares, that would explain why Micah woke up suddenly the other night.

Arthur has found himself recently not minding Micah as much, maybe even liking him, to his dismay. Sure, Micah is still an asshole, as per usual, but Arthur seems to have developed a small crush on the man.

So because of this new found liking of Micah, Arthur decides to go up to him and talk about his lack of sleep.

“Micah” Arthur greets as he steps up to the man who is sitting on a crate by the fire, sharpening his knife.

“Morgan, what do I have the pleasure to talk to you about today?” Micah drawls, putting his knife away and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring up at Arthur with a sleazy smile on his face.

“Well..” Arthur realizes he doesn’t know what to say, he has no reason to be concerned since Micah rarely sleeps, this isn’t really an odd occurrence. “Why don’t you ever sleep? The only times I’ve seen you asleep is when you’ve passed out after drinkin’ too much.”

“Why’re you askin’? You worried about me Morgan?” Micah grins, as Arthur lets out an annoyed sigh.

“No im not. Just wonderin’… I, uh, saw you wake up the other day, you smashed a bottle and I woke up cause of it.. you had a nightmare?”

Micah’s grin turns to a frown. “That’s none of yer business Arthur” He spits out the other man’s name like an insult. “Why you care anyways? Wanna make fun a me for it? I’d say Bill’s an easier target, everyone ‘round here knows he has nightmares, go kick him ‘round for it.”

“What? No. Everyone has nightmares, why would I do that?”

“Well why else would you ask me”

“I.. fuck, hell if I know”

Micah’s face goes back into a grin. “Awh, you were worried ‘bout me, well you got nothin’ to worry about Morgan, I’m not a little boy”

“God damn, fine, I was just tryin’ to be nice” Arthur says, exasperatedly, and begins walking off before Micah speaks up again.

“It.. it was about my daddy, it’s always about him. Some stupid memory that I try to forget”

Arthur pauses and looks back, shocked of Micah’s speaking up.

Micah is looking down at the ground, the shadow of his hat covering his face to hide his expression.

“I don’t know why I always get so freaked out, I know they’re not real, at least right now, but they scare the shit out of me. Makes me feel like my daddy and granddaddy are still here, watchin’ me”

“Well.. that..” Arthur tries to form words but he’s still shocked that Micah is actually talking and not just being pissy, after a few seconds he manages to form a thought. “I’m sorry ‘bout that, it ain’t right”

Micah glares at Arthur, looking up from his slouched position on the crate. “I don’t need your pitty Morgan”

Arthur lets out another sigh. “I’m not pittyin’ you Micah, I have nightmares too, ‘s nothin’ to be ashamed of”

Micah continues to wordlessly glare at Arthur who looks back at him. They stare at each other for a few seconds before Micah eventually relents.

“Fine, is that all you wanted? You can go now” He sounds irritated.

“You should get some sleep”

“Oh come on, first your houndin’ me on my nightmares and now your tryin’ ta get me to sleep? Yer not my mom Morgan”

“Just try ta sleep, I’ve seen ya almost pass out atleast five times today alone”

“I’m not gonna set up my tent for this bullshit”

“I’ll let you use mine”

Micah pauses for a second, genuinely thinking about the offer.

“Fine” He concludes, standing up and beginning to walk towards Arthur’s tent, with Arthur following behind him.

Arthur, even though he offered his tent up, is still a bit shocked at his own offer. He doesn’t know why he cares so much about Micah getting sleep but he pushes those thoughts to the back of his head, deciding to deal with them later, as he and Micah step into his tent.

Arthur closes the flaps behind them, deciding that Micah would prefer the privacy.

“You tryna do somethin’ to me Morgan? Hidin’ behind closed doors”

“What? No, I can open the flaps again if you’d prefer-“

“No leave it” Micah sits down on Arthur’s cot before looking up at him. “You gonna leave? Or do you wanna watch me sleep” Micah grins up at Arthur, teasing the man who falls for the bait.

“No- I… I’ll leave” Arthur steps out of the tent, the flaps closing against behind him.

Micah awkwardly sits in the foreign tent for a few seconds, his previous grin turning into more of a neutral expression.

He decides that he might aswell try to sleep since he is on a proper bed. He takes off his leather jacket, throwing it to the floor, and lays down on the cot, still with his gun belt on, just incase since he doesn’t want to be caught defenseless.

And for the first time in a long while, Micah has a dreamless sleep.

[leafnyx]

Whumptober Day 5: Heatstroke - Kierthur

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Passing out, slight mentions of being starved, overworking

Setting: Chapter 3 - Clemens Point

A/n: I know this is meant to be whumptober but this fic is mostly fluff, but don’t worry there will be actual Kieran whump later on 😋

Since he was released from the tree that he was tied to a few weeks ago, Kieran has been working as hard as he can, trying to secure his spot in the gang. Although it seems that no matter what he does, it’s never good enough.

Grimshaw’s always giving him more tasks to do, if he’s not tending to the horses or cleaning their saddles he has to be doing other chores like cleaning the table, helping Pearson with the food, carrying crates, or really anything that she can think of to get him to do. He never has a moment of rest, the second he’s seen not doing anything, he’s immediately assigned something to do.

This is made worse by the fact that it’s been externally sunny recently. Kieran feels like he’s being burnt slime most days and he’s sure he looks it too. He can see how red his arms are and he refuses to look in a mirror to see how disheveled the rest of him looks.

Kieran’s currently helping unload their newest camp in Clemens Point. He feels horrible physically but he can’t stop working or else he’s going to get told off, which won’t help whatever reputation he’s trying to gain within this camp. His throat is sore and he feels as if his legs are going to give out any second.

Kieran puts a box of who-knows-what down and goes over to the wagon to pick something else up. By this point he’s beginning to feel dizzy, his heart is beating faster than normal and his steps are more wobbly than they were before. He goes to pick up another box before everything comes crashing over him and he looses consciousness, falling to the ground along with the box he was holding.

The unpacking pauses momentarily as everyone turns to look at the sudden loud noise. Arthur, having developed a small liking to the O’Driscoll in the past week or so, got up from his spot by the fire, and quickly went to Kieran.

“The hell happened?” Arthur says, his tone not conveying the fact that he is somewhat worried.

“He just passed out, I think he overworking himself.” Mary-Beth replies, being the second to walk over to Kieran, after also getting somewhat attached to him since she saw how little of a threat he was tied up.

The rest of the camp goes back to their tasks, including Mary-Beth who reluctantly goes back to where she was previously, unpacking some of the camps belongings. Arthur, though, doesn’t want to leave Kieran passed out on the floor.

Arthur moves the crate that Kieran was carrying away from him and picks him up, slinging him over his shoulder.

“Ms. Grimshaw,” Arthur starts, calling out to the woman who is now a few steps away from him after noticing the disruption.

“I know, take him to your tent since it’s already set up” She replies, sounding exasperated at the extra thing to deal with.

When Arthur walks into his tent, he dumps Kieran onto his cot. Grimshaw puts a hand to Kieran’s skin. “He’s hotter than he should be, his skin is dry too,” She backs away from him, now turning to directly talk to Arthur. “He probably has heatstroke, since you picked him up, you take care of him”

Arthur lets out a sigh, although he doesn’t mind caring for Kieran all that much. Grimshaw rolls her eyes and continues.

“Soak some cloths in cold water and put them on his neck and armpits.” She walks off, leaving Arthur to deal with passed out Kieran.

Arthur steps out of his tent, following Grimshaw, and asks Mary-Beth if she could give him a few cloths which she immediately does, worried for Kieran. Arthur steps off to the river, putting his hand into the water. Deciding that it’s cold enough, he soaks the cloths in it before returning to Kieran in his tent.

From here on Arthur awkwardly takes Kieran’s shirt off and places a cloth on his neck and his armpits. He then takes a seat on a chair beside his bed. Arthur looks at Kieran’s body and realizes that he’s even skinner that he’d imagined. Sure, he knew that Kieran was thin, but Arthur could practically see his ribcage. He internally cringes and plans on making Kieran eat more in the future.

Arthur picks up his journal and begins sketching to pass the time. He begins drawing Kieran, not the version of him in front of Arthur on the bed but a picture of Kieran with the horses, one of the only places he looks truly happy. After almost half an hour passes, Arthur goes to soak the cloths again, since they have now turned warm.

When he returns back to his tent he sees Kieran sat up on the cot, buttoning his shirt up.

“You should be resting some more” Arthur says, making his presence known to Kieran who flinches a bit.

“Oh, no I need to get back to unpacking.. but thanks for, uh, taking care of me” Kieran stands up from the cot and tries to walk out.

“Oh no you don’t,” Arthur blocks the front of the tent. “You should rest more, you passed out from the fucking sun, you’re not going back out into it.”

“Really it’s fine” Kieran argues weakly, not bothering to try and physically push by, just standing In front of Arthur.

“No it ain’t, I’m tellin’ Ms. Grimshaw that you’re not working for the rest of today, stay here” Arthur exits the tent and closes the flap. Kieran awkwardly moves around the small area of the tent, eventually sitting down on the cot again, not wanting to argue with Arthur.

He wonders why Arthur seems to care for his heath so much, no one so far has seemed to care, he didn’t think Arthur did either. Kieran glances around the tent, looking at what items Arthur keeps in it. He still feels a bit dizzy, but he ignores it.

Arthur walks towards Ms. Grimshaw who’s currently talking to Mary-Beth who perks up after seeing Arthur and calls out to him.

“How’s Kieran? Is he awake?”

“He is, Ms. Grimshaw, Kieran should rest for the day” Arthur stands in front of the two women.

Grimshaw sighs “Alright, I suppose he can take the day off.”

Arthur nods and walks off. Before heading back to his tent he decides to get something for Kieran to eat. He realized how skinny the man looked when Arthur took his shirt off. Arthur grabs a bow of Pearsons stew, which isn’t the best food but’ll have to do for now, and heads back to his tent.

When he enters, Arthur sees Kieran awkwardly sitting on his cot, still looking somewhat ill.

“Here, eat somethin’” Arthur hands Kieran the bowl of stew.

Kieran immediately grabs it, thanking Arthur, before quickly shoveling the food down his throat like a starved man.

“Jesus how long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

“Probably since yesterday?” Kieran says, his words mumbled by the food still in his mouth.

He quickly finished the rest of the food, putting the now empty bowl down on a desk.

“Thank you mister, I don’t know why you’re doin’ all this for me”

“Cause it’s not right to let you suffer, and drop the ‘mister’, it’s Arthur” Arthur looks away for Kieran, seeming somewhat embarrassed by Kieran pointing out his acts of kindness.

“Well alright, thank you Arthur.”

[leafnyx]

Whumptober 2024

(I won’t be writing for every day)

Day 1: Race Against The Clock - Poolverine

Day 5: Heatstroke - Kierthur

Day 8: Sleep Deprivation - Morbell

Day 15: Childhood Trauma - Micah Bell

Day 16: Swamp/Necrosis - Arthur Morgan

Day 20: Emotional Angst - Arthur Morgan

Day 21: Body Horror - Kieran Duffy