#Boadecia

[ivoris-just-smile-and-laugh]

past town at the edge (looking down at butterflies) (14127 words) by horsegirlsandcowboys Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith Characters: Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan's Horse, Charles Smith (Red Dead Redemption), Hosea Matthews, John Marston, Dutch van der Linde, Van der Linde Gang Members (Red Dead Redemption) Additional Tags: Boadecia is the main character I don't make the rules, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Equestrian, Horse Girl Arthur Morgan, No Beta, Van der Linde Gang as Family (Red Dead Redemption), Family Shenanigans, Good Parent Hosea Matthews, Parent Dutch van der Linde, he tries ok, Good Parent Susan Grimshaw, im enjoying writing the gang practically being a family, They’re brothers, Background Relationships, Alternate Universe - Age Changes, everyone’s a little young/closer in age Summary:

“Now this here is Boadecia,” Dutch announced, stopping a safe distance away from a dark bay mare who pinned her ears at him. Charles followed his example.

“She recently won a three-star, put on quite a sho—” The man paused and stepped forward, putting a hand up to block Boadecia’s head when she tried to bite him. He sighed. “Arthur has got to quit sleeping in her stall.”

Charles stepped forward, following his gaze.

Ah, so this was Arthur.

OR

Dutch: you can pick out any horse you want! Arthur: *picks out the devil mare* Dutch: FUCK

OR

Dutch: you can pick out any significant other you want! Arthur: *picks out the competition* Dutch: FUCK

[outlawruben]

38 layers and 19 hours. And it all started when I googled: “Can you carry a dog while you’re riding a horse?”

Yes. Yes you can.

[romance-sick]

I’m honestly still trying to process it, guys, but I just have to say…

I LOVED IT.

Oh, my god.

It’s honestly disgusting, all of the hate that this movie is getting; it’s so undeserving of it.

THIS👏🏻 CROW👏🏻 IS NOT👏🏻THE 1994 CROW👏🏻.

It was never meant to be… Idk why that is so monumentally hard for people to comprehend.

Anyway.

Emotionally, I’m kind of devastated right now. Bill was brilliant, Twigs was beautiful; the GORE was fucking magnificent. God… I might have to go see it again tomorrow, for real. I can’t stop thinking about it.

I didn’t cry, but there were a couple of times where I was close, this makeup scene being one of them.

Having Enya’s “Boadecia”paired with it? Gorgeous. Heartbreaking. I got legitimate chills.

I don’t know what else to say, I’m still just…wow.

Is it some Oscar worthy contender that should do a clean sweep this award season? No. But it’s not meant to be, either.

It has great cinematography, was well-acted with a good story, it was brutal and intense, but also a lot of fun to watch.

Just because this film is not a carbon copy of 1994 (which it shouldn’t be, anyway, and if it was, they’d bitch about that, too) doesn’t mean it nor Bill or Twigs or anyone else should be getting shit all over the way that they are.

(Besides, how many Crow sequels were made after Brandon Lee’s death? I mean, what’s the fucking difference?)

-jumps off of soapbox-

Thank you for listening.

[drizzledrawings]

More stuff about this:

-set in the late 90s early 2000s

-hosea and Dutch live in the upstairs apartment attached to the laundromat, everyone else lives in trailers in their backyard

-each trailer houses a few people, the marstons are in one. Charles, Lenny, and Javier are in another. The girls have one. Bill sleeps in his truck, and no one has ever seen Micah sleep. Arthur has his own

-they found arthur hitchhiking along a highway in the middle of winter with no jacket, if they didn’t take him in, someone far worse could’ve. So he stuck around, they find John and Tilly in a similar way

-back in the old days, when it was just Hosea, Dutch, and arthur, they travelled the country and pulled cons from the back of hoseas dusty pickup truck

- now when they travel away from home base, it’s just chaos of pickup trucks, trailers, minivans, and one tiny Subaru that the girls drive in

-they have one of those big inflatable pools in the backyard, bill likes to sit in it on a big floatie

-Susans the one who actually manages the laundromat, the girls are her employees that got integrated into the gang

-Arthurs truck is a Chevrolet C/K, shes big and red and her name is boadecia

-jack is not allowed inside the laundromat cause abigail is scared he’ll climb inside one of the machines

-Arthur has threatened Sean and John that he’d stuff them into one of the washers many times

Modern rdr2! Au where Dutch and Hosea are laundromat owners and use it as a front for their gang (money laundering), and their nemesis, Colm opens another laundromat across the street from them

Chaos ensues

[carlydraws]

Something from the archives... Boadicea roams the London Underground, based on urban myth.

Prints available here.

[kittypichuofficial]

Early morning routine

[butterflydragon14]

A beautiful girl next to a pretty boah!!

Arthur and his mare Boadicea

[srbachchan]

DAY 4547

Jalsa, Mumbai                     Aug 14,  2020                  Fri 10:34 PM

Birthday Ef - Kishore Bhatt (UK) .. Friday, August 14 .. BELATED BIRTHDAY GREETINGS TO YOU .. 🌹🌹 .. and apologies for missing out .. in these times of CoViD , the mind does not function too well .. love from all the EF ❤️❤️❤️

Birthday - EF  Nitish Murthy .. Saturday .. August 15 .. may this day be ever remembered , may you have all the independence for a happy future ever .. from the Ef .. ❤️🌹🇮🇳

15th August .. Independence Day .. and our hearts and minds give credence and love to the sacrifices made so we may achieve what we are today ..

Happy Independence Day ..

.. MJ Akbar writes an article on Independence and Freedom and I found it interesting to share a portion of it here ..

Between Independence and Freedom  

An unsuspected, and hence uncorrected, fallacy has caused much confusion in political philology, impairing analysis and understanding of the modern nation state.

Independence is not synonymous with freedom.

Both are essential to the contemporary ideal. They are compatible and often complementary. But the two virtues follow different trajectories and attain separate objectives. Independence is liberation from foreign or colonial rule; freedom is a  right of every individual citizen which may be denied as easily by an indigenous ruling elite as by any foreign power.

India and America celebrate their independence  on 15 August and 4 July respectively to commemorate the triumphant moment when they threw the British out of their lives. England has no such day since the English claim that they have never been ruled by a foreign power. Perhaps that was so long ago that amnesia is forgivable. The Romans invaded England in 43 AD  and left only in 410 AD, when troops were summoned back to Italy, then being ravaged by “barbarians”.

The only memorable, and near-successful, British challenge to Roman might occurred early. In 60 and 61 AD,  the  queen of the Celtic Iceni, Boadecia, known in her native Welsh as Buddug, defeated Roman armies in battle and   burnt down the colonizer’s capital, Londonium,  forcing  Nero, the emperor, to consider retreat.  But his  general, Seutonius, regrouped and won the war. Buddug, only 31, poisoned  herself. Her pragmatic husband, Prasutagas, ruled as an ally of the Romans and left his kingdom to the Romans in his will. Colonial behavior has some interesting antecedents.

However, the British do retain  a soft spot for Boadicea. She is not honoured on the holiday calendar, but her memory is preserved in a heroic statue at London’s Westminster Bridge and in a romantic luxury perfume misnamed Boadicea the Victorious.  

The Norman conquest of Britain in 1066 was more nuanced, for the triumphant Frenchmen from Normandy soon blurred the difference between dependence and independence. The new conquerors did not rule England from France; they ruled swathes of their native land from England.  Normans became the new English establishment. In a delicious paradox, French history books now  venerate St Joan of Arc for liberating France from Norman royalty.

There is no confusion, however, in England’s history of freedom.  It is legitimately traced back to the Magna Carta Libertatum,  signed by a reluctant King John in 1215 to obtain support of the landed nobility against a French invasion. The charter gave barons the right of consultation on raising taxes through a council; this evolved into a foundational institution of freedom, Parliament.

From the late 18th century Britain and France began to devote more energy on conquering Africa and Asia than destroying each other, creating two formidable empires. Britain became the dominant power because India glistened as the jewel in its crown.

.. dear friend that spent anxious days when I was in hospital sends pictures of paintings that evoke my own visuals in the hospital :

.. the paintings are by Bowness Hepworth, who apparently had wished to be in the OT, where her child was undergoing a surgery .. she was permitted and these are the visuals she sketched .. so beautiful , artistic and have a certain reality grace in the lines and the use of colours ..

.. these have been the true warriors during this pandemic .. they work round the clock .. do not go back to their homes .. stay on the premises to attend to the patients , giving them treatment yes, but hope too and a gentle presence in the absence of loved ones .. salutations ..

.. the Genesis of the day is the solitude strains of the chords at play .. by yourself , by the rhythm , by the soul and heart of that which touches each bristling pore of the body .. there are attempts,  gentle though , to regain the strength of the original .. a step at a time .. to reach to comply to look at the mirror with strength and will .. there is effort .. 

.. slowly but surely ..

Amitabh Bachchan

[whiskeyandspy]

━━ ◤ ( THE SCENT OF GUNPOWDER AND WEATHERED LEATHER, THE DANGEROUS JOURNEY OF AMERICAN FRONTIER ON HORSEBACK, THE HARDENED LIFE OF AN OUTLAW ON A YOUNG MAN AND THE GOLDEN ORANGE HUES OF A FIELDED PASTURE ) welcome, ARTHUR MORGAN, HE/HIM. before you move in, tell us what you remember: ENSURING ABIGAIL AND JACK'S SAFETY, FINDING OUT JOHN'S ALIVE AND WORKING TOGETHER TO GET AWAY FROM THE GANG. excellent, now we are pleased to accept your offer to live at FARM NUMBER TWO (horse rearing and retirement ranch), and your new job as SELF-EMPLOYEED at BOADICEA HORSE RANCH is waiting for you to begin. ( RED DEAD REDEMPTION AND KIVANÇ TATLITUĞ )

THE BASICS

NAME: arthur morgan

NICKNAMES: cowpoke, pretty boy, tacitus kilgore

BIRTHDAY: november 27

AGE: 36

PRONOUNS: he/him

LAST KNOWN MEMORY: ensuring abigail and jack’s safety, finding out john’s alive and working together to get away from the gang

ORIGINATION: red dead redemption

FACECLAIM: kivanc tatlitug

THE DETAILS

FAMILY: lyle morgan (father, deceased), beatrice morgan (mother, deceased), eliza (significant other, deceased), isaac morgan (son, deceased), copper (dog, deceased), dutch van der linde (surrogate father), hosea matthews (surrogate father, deceased), john marston (surrogate brother), abigail marston (sister-in-law), jack marston (nephew),  mary linton (ex-fiancee)

THREE FAVORITE THINGS: feeling the freedom of having nature surround you, being out on the trails on his faithful mare, sitting around a fire and enjoying the peaceful calm

EDUCATION: graduated high school

SKILLS: skilled with firearms, excellent on horseback, good at hand-to-hand combat, decent with a knife, excellent liar and persuader. 

HEADCANONS: arthur was born in new jersey and grew up on a cattle ranch in kentucky - until his parents, significantly older than most parents were - passed away. falling into a delinquent life, arthur’s life spiraled - it was then that a boys home and rehabilitation took him in. ran by dutch van der linde and hosea matthews, arthur continued his teenage years working on their farm and being as close to a son to them as he could get - it was there that he met john marston (free to change this if we get a john!) - and soon found a brother in him. as he got older and graduated high school, arthur made his way west to kansas where he had enough money saved up, and an approved loan from dutch to own his very own ranch: boadecia horse ranch (named after his childhood horse, and his intrigue in the famed gaelic warrior queen). now he works hard and spends his time peacefully getting to know the people of decimation.

WHAT THEY’RE PLANNING TO DO IN DECIMATION: arthur is both comforted and troubled by the ‘waking dreams’ that flood him in his sleep - he feels as if he belongs there, in the past - but he’s desperate to enjoy the peaceful life that decimation has provided him. he just wants to enjoy taking care of animals, being a rancher, and meeting kind folks.

[victoodles]

Venatrix (Chapter 2)

short but sweet update this time before the hunt! be sure to follow the series on AO3 and read part 1

“Well that was... productive,” Charles huffs as he follows you and Arthur to the horses. 

Arthur lets out a sardonic laugh this time. “Always is with Pearson. Old fool thinks he’s actin’ all heroic by telling her to stay behind,” he says, helping you onto the back of your horse, Lady. Arthur’s chivalry comes on instinct, it’s not used as a means to impress.

You quite like that about him. Among other things. 

You can’t help the blush that forms at the feeling of his hands around your waist - firm yet careful. Arthur squeezes your hips gently as he hoists you up, as if you weighed nothing. You quickly turn your face away, hoping he doesn’t catch a glimpse of your bashfulness. He does, he feels it too, and mimics your action to hide his own flush. 

Charles notices the interaction silently and smiles to himself. 

“Arthur,” Charles calls. The two of you would run around in this circle all day if he let you, but people were hungry. 

“You can ride Taima.” Charles offers his own horse to Arthur. His own beloved horse, Boadecia, was killed in their harrowing escape from Blackwater, leaving him without a mount. It was clearly still a tender subject to approach with Arthur but he doesn’t let his grief show. There’s no room for his weaknesses to bleed through during such a tumultuous time.  

It breaks your heart. Arthur doesn’t have the luxury of expressing his emotions, verbally or otherwise. It seems all those thoughts are due to be locked away with bounds of a leather clad journal. You yearn to talk to him about it, to unlock the door he’s kept shut for years to appease others expectations of him.

But for now, providing for the gang together will have to suffice. While it isn’t much, you can’t deny the excitement behind an excursion into the wilderness with Arthur. 

Arthur looks to Charles, hesitant to accept. “Are you sure Charles?”

Charles simply nods, another half smile on his lips. “I trust you,” he looks to you, “the both of you.” Once again, Charles’ admiration has you feeling honored. Arthur seems to share the same sentiment and thanks him in earnest. 

“Think nothing of it,” Charles responds. He gestures to Taima’s saddle, “My bow and quiver are all there for you Arthur. And we already know our huntress is well prepared.”

You grin proudly; it was well-known that your bow was one of your greatest joys. The shaft was composed from a mixture of sturdy red elm and maple with a bowstring of silk reinforced with twisted rawhide. Over the years you would idly carve a variety of ornate designs into the wood, giving it a truly unique appearance; vines expanded upwards and bloomed into intricate flowers along the wood’s surface. 

Arthur thought your craftsmanship was truly astounding, going as far as to capture a moment of you hard at work on paper. 

Wild but beautiful, just like her. It’s signed with a heart.  

“Shall we, my lady?” Arthur asks. The request is lighthearted, imitating a man of high society. It reminds you of home and you laugh sweetly in response. Arthur’s heart only flutters a little bit.

“Of course good sir,” you match his playfulness with a mocking haughty accent. Now it’s his turn to laugh, deep and rich.

“Well lead the way then.”

The entire Ambarino landscape is coated in a thick layer of snow and the prevailing storm would make sure more would ensue. Frigid winds rustle the fully coated trees, sending flurries of snow cascading down from their branches. They seem to be the only visible landmarks save for the surrounding mountains in this frozen hellscape.  

If Arthur never had to see an inch of snow again in his entire life, he would die a happy man. It clings to him, and the bitter chill nips violently at the skin he can’t cover behind his coat or with his hat.

Your lips practically pucker from the sourness of his expression. “Are you alright over there Mister Morgan,” you ask with a teasing lilt in your voice. He picks up on it and chuckles dryly. 

“Not exactly too keen on this kind of weather,” he grumbles, urging Taima on just a little bit faster through the snow. His element is open fields; expanses of thick, wild grass as far as the eye can see. Patches of wildflowers so lush he can smell the honeysuckle as he lays among them and draws passing wildlife. 

You match his pace, setting into a steady trot beside him. “It seems you and I share that sentiment,” you say with a visible huff. 

“These mountains ain't up to the Wildling Princess’ standards?” Arthur says with a smirk. 

You giggle at his emphasis on your nickname, one affectionately given to you by Dutch and Hosea. A term of endearment that paid tribute to your past life of a lady of Saint Denis and now your current one of an outlaw huntress. Many gang members thought it appropriate to tease you for it but you paid them little mind.  

“No I suppose not,” you concede, “it’s considerably harder to hunt when it’s below freezing. The game is too sparse!”

“It’s a wonder we haven’t starved already.” Arthur says, half joking. 

You can’t help the scoff of contempt that escapes you. “Well if I listened to Pearson, we’d be nothing but bare bones by now.” 

Now Arthur laughs genuinely. “Thank goodness for that!” You join in his merriment with your own laughter before the two of you settle into a comfortable silence, journeying onward. 

The wind has died down considerably into a gentle snowfall, much to Arthur’s delight. Snow cascades down from the clouds above, swirling in the breeze. In this lull, Arthur dares to peek at you from under the brim of his hat. He can’t help but notice the way snowflakes coat your eyelashes and the dust of red across your cheeks. 

You’re quite a sight and you look almost...angelic.

Arthur mentally kicks himself for thinking so foolishly. About you no less. 

“So,” he tries to distract himself from an onslaught of flustering thoughts. You perk up and look at him expectantly with those beautiful doe eyes. “You, uh, still happy you fell in with this bunch?” 

If you didn’t know any better, you would say he sounded nervous.

Are you still happy that you met me?

Your heart skips a beat at the prospect that’s what he meant instead. 

“Six years and counting Mister Morgan, and you ask me that now?” You titter.

“A lot can change.” It’s as if Arthur is expecting you to have regrets. You refuse to feed into his already crippling self doubt. 

“Considering the sorry state you found me in, I’d say I’m in a significantly better place.” 

Arthur remembers. Clear as day. Four dastardly bounty hunters had been trailing you for miles: from Tall trees all the way to Blackwater. Arthur had been scouting some leads with Hosea and Dutch (thankfully) when you barrelled straight into him. You desperately clutched his shirt with trembling hands as the men approached and all you could utter was a simple plea.

Help.

Who was Arthur to deny a lady in waiting some well needed assistance in the form of a Cattleman and four bullets. 

Arthur smiles fondly at the memory. 

“Well I-” he clears his throat at his rather forward mistake, hoping you don’t catch it. You do, and again your heart flutters in your chest. “ We ,” he corrects himself, “are happy to have you with us.” It’s a comment sweet in nature, albeit delivered a little roughly. It doesn’t bother you none.

“And I’m happy to be here, Mister Morgan.”

“Just Arthur will do.” There’s no need for formalities. Not with him. 

You smile that same breathtaking smile in his direction once more. “Of course...Arthur.” 

He never thought his name could sound so beautiful. 

[reddeadinmybed]

Doubts & Anticipations (M)

The road was quiet. All that could be heard was the crickets around us – which masked the sound of my breathing – and my horse‘s (Boadecia - my thoroughbred) hoofs making contact with the ground.

I had named my horse Boadecia because that was the name of Arthur’s old horse. He said he loved that horse and that they had a special bond. I couldn’t help but feel like I had a special bond with my horse so I named it Boadecia, in memory of that horse.

I wasn’t around when Arthur had Boadecia so I never met that horse. He likes to talk about her when we are both just sitting by the campfire, or in our tent. Arthur didn’t like to talk about his past much but Boadecia, he would talk about her any day.

I breathe in the fresh air and smile. This is living. Freedom. The ability to get on your horse and just ride. I have never been the girl to stay at home and cook for her husband and three children. I know that’s what Abigail wants but I just couldn’t live like that. I needed freedom, Arthur was my freedom.

It’s not strange to me that he once was in love with another girl. A girl named Mary. I had heard about her from Hosea. He had given me the details about her when Arthur and I had just started to show our feelings publicly. Hosea warned me that there could be even the slightest possibility that Mary would come back and...I can’t even bear to say it. That she would try and make Arthur change.

The thought of Arthur being a boy who isn’t free makes me want to be sick. Arthur is practically Dutch’s son, why would he leave them? Why would Mary even come back?

Not only that but I had felt a bit scared that Arthur would just pack up his things and go after this Mary girl. She was his first love and my Mamma used to tell me that it was always hard to fall out of love when they’re your first. That’s why my Mamma used to tell me to try your hardest to stay with your first love.

Arthur was almost my first everything. My first friend. My first boyfriend. Even the first to take my virginity.

There is one thing for certain, Arthur is two-sided. On one side he was the fluffy boy who was the most awkward person to ever live and then there was his other side; a complete badass. I found that this side was the side he showed when on “official business” as he likes to call it. This side of Arthur sure knows how to use his hands, I mean he knows how to work his gun so it was only natural.

The way that Arthur makes me feel, it’s indescribable. What he can do with those hands, he brings me to my knees. He’s so gorgeous and I’m so in love with him.

I had received a letter from Mary. She had asked to meet me in Valentine. Well a little outside Valentine in this house at the back. I remember telling the camp that I would be back soon and that it shouldn’t take a day at the least.

Then I had started my journey. When I approached the door, it had opened slightly and a gun was pointed in my face. This had surprised me, I had not expected to come face to face with a gun. I had asked for Mary and soon after I had finally seen her face.

She was gorgeous. I knew in that instant that any man would feel lucky to have a girl as beautiful as her. It was no wonder Arthur would come running back to her. Hell, if I was a man I would go running back to her. All this had me feeling self-conscious. She was beautiful and I was...me. I wouldn’t have no man come running after me because of how I looked.

When she saw me, her face distorted. She had the look of disdain on her face. Her eyes travelled from my face all the way down to my toes. Our attire was completely different. She was wearing a – no doubt expensive – dress and I was wearing black pants with a red button-up shirt (to which I always kept a few buttons undone in the cleavage area – just for Arthur) and my boots. I had my holsters on and a black cowboy (or in my sense, cowgirl) hat on. I had let my hair be free, the H/C (hair colour) waving gently in the wind.

“You must be Miss L/N.” She kept her voice brief but sharp. It had appeared as if she didn’t want to see me at all. So why did she write the letter to ask to go see me?

“That I am.” I had replied with. It had appeared this was a waste of time. I could have been at the campfire with Arthur and the rest of the gang but instead, I was here looking at Arthur’s first love which looked at me as if she hated me.

“Well I can see why Arthur chose you, you definitely wouldn’t change.” That irked me. She assumed that I wouldn’t change. Arthur and I had this discussion already. We discussed that when the time is right, we will eventually get married and have children. We wouldn’t leave the gang, the children would grow up in it. They were like family, we couldn’t ditch them.

The whole conversation didn’t go down well. Mary and I ended up having a fight about Arthur. Mary called Arthur a few names (to which she said “it’s because of you, you’ve brainwashed him”) and me a few names. Then she said this one thing that really got to me.

“He might have been you first but remember I was his first. There is no beating that.”

I had left her shortly after and didn’t bother coming back to camp. I didn’t want to go back for the first time. I couldn’t bear to see Arthur knowing that what she said was right. I wasn’t a first for Arthur. Everything that I have with Arthur, I wasn’t his first. She took everything.

I had camped out for around two days before I had finally decided to come back. I had realised that I was running from my problem which was causing the gang to suffer. The gang didn’t deserve me running from them, neither did Arthur. Mary had so easily run after realising the dangers of our way of living. Why would I do the same? It took me a while to realise that I was the first to stay with him, the first not to run away from him.

Now here I am, near the entrance of our camp. I was excited but mostly nervous to see Arthur again. What would he do? Would he be mad at me? I promised him I would not take a day but instead, I took a whole two days. What would he think?

“Who goes there?!” Bill shouted out and I let a small grin escape my lips. I had missed the sound of Bill’s paranoia when on guard duty. He sounded very paranoid that anything could happen. He was probably drunk as a skunk. Don’t know why he’s on guard duty.

“It’s me, Y/N,” I called out to Bill. In the dark, I could still see the surprised look that clouded Bill’s face. Was it really a shock for me to be gone that long?

“Well look what the cat dragged in.” I rolled my eyes at him and carried on walking towards the hitching post.

When near, I hitched Boadecia and gave him a few carrots. Boadecia loved carrots. He didn’t like anything else. I also gave him a brush, getting all the dirt off of everything.

Kieron will clean my saddle tomorrow hopefully. I mean, it is his job after all. People always give him shit for being an O’Driscoll, it was funny sometimes but most of the time I felt sorry for the poor sod. Arthur still gives him shit here and there but I usually smack him after causing him to mutter an incoherent apology.

Speaking of Arthur, where is he?

Two arms snaked around my waist and pulled me back towards its chest. The action shocked me, causing me to drop the brush. I then felt someone’s breathing on my neck, as their face got closer to it. The person then kissed my neck and brought their mouth up to my ear.

“I missed you darlin’, why were you gone for so long?” It was Arthur. I knew it was him all along but it was clear now.

“I-I had some business to discuss.” I stuttered and Arthur chuckled. I could feel the chuckle resonate through his chest as his chest rose up and down.

I turned around in his grip and leant my head forward, to kiss him. It was only then that I saw Pearson had laid out food for us all. It looked appetising and I was very hungry.

My stomach rumbled and Arthur looked at me with his eyebrow raised.

“Somebody’s hungry.” He said and I looked down on the floor, a blush apparent on my cheeks. He chuckled once again and pulled away, grabbing my hand and leading me to Pearson’s pot. He grabbed a bowl for himself and me before we walked towards the table and sat down.

It was quiet for a moment and all I could think about was telling him why I was gone. He deserves to know that I met with Mary. He deserves to know what happened.

“Arthur,” I called out to him. He looked up from his plate and shyly looked at me. God, he was gorgeous.

”Yes Y/N?” He scooped some stew on his spoon and brought it to his mouth where he ate the food. I gulped, this was harder than I thought it would be.

“When I left two days ago, I met up with Mary.” I blurted out. I watched all the colour drain from Arthur’s face. His shoulders became tense and he dropped his spoon into his bowl. He looked up at me and I have never seen him so uncomfortable in my life.

Maybe telling him was a bad idea.

“You...what?” He asked and I almost didn’t want to reply. Why was I so scared?

“I...met up with Mar–”

“I know what you said.” Arthur cut me off and I placed my hands between my lap. I fiddled with my fingers, trying not to look at Arthur.

Time went by slowly and he sighed.

“We’ll talk about it later, keep eating your food.” It was then over, Arthur had literally skulled his food down. I didn’t touch my food, my appetite had completely dissolved. I was stuck in my own thoughts, I didn’t even realise that Arthur had stood up and had been holding his hand out for me to grab. 

I hesitantly lifted my hand up to gently place mine into his rough hands. He then helped me out of my chair and walked us to the campfire where everyone was sitting at. Micah wasn’t to be seen but that wasn’t a surprise. I had always gotten a weird feeling from him. I feel as if he’d snitch the first chance he could. Dutch wasn’t at the campfire either, he was in his tent with Molly O’Shea. They were probably talking, Molly loves to tell me everything they talk about - which might I say is completely boring. 

Arthur sat down on a chair and pulled me down on his lap. He was tense and it made me feel awkward. I understand that me meeting his first love must make him feel tense, I just need to tell him what I really feel. I need him to know what Mary had said and I need him to know that I feel self-conscious. 

For the rest of the night, Arthur and I had not said much. We made a few comments in the gang's conversation here and there but that was it. Even though Arthur was being tense, he was still really clingy. Everywhere I went, he followed with either his arm around my waist or with his hand intertwined with mine. I appreciated his clinginess but I still desperately needed to tell him how I felt. 

Eventually, it was time for Arthur and me to go to our tent. I was sweating profusely and I was fidgety. Arthur noticed this and wrapped me in an embrace. He must have had a bath because I could smell the soap on him. The closest bath was Valentine and I’m surprised he didn’t run into me within those two days I was gone, I was still in Valentine. I couldn’t completely run from the gang’s hideout. 

“What is it darlin’?” Arthur asked, his head still resting in the nape of my neck and shoulder. Every now and then, I could hear him breathing in my scent. I probably smelt like smoke, I was in front of the fire and almost completely blocking Arthur from the smoke. I was like a shield to him, causing me to be the bad smelling victim, not Arthur. 

“I need to talk to you about why I met with Mary.” I started off. Arthur pulled away slowly and looked me in the eyes. I could tell he was uncomfortable with the idea of his current girlfriend meeting his ex-girlfriend. I completely understood that. 

“Okay.” Was all he said. He sat down on the bed and looked up at me. 

I nodded and sighed. It was now or never Y/N. 

“She sent me a letter. She had asked me to meet up with her outside of Valentine. That was why I left. I didn’t expect to leave for a whole two days, I thought that this was going to be quick.” I paused to look at Arthur. He had his hands in his lap and his hat was off, placed on the bedside. 

“When I met her, she treated me disdainfully. When I met her, I felt self-conscious. She was absolutely gorgeous and I’m just me. There was one thing that she had said and that was why I had not come back for the two days.” Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed and he wiped his hands on his pants. I could tell this was hard for him. 

“She had told me that...that you might have been my first but she will always be your first and that had me feeling really unsure of myself. I felt unworthy of having you, I felt as if I didn’t deserve you.” I felt the tears coming up and I hated. I had never been one to cry, it made you look weak and Dutch didn’t like us being weak. He wanted a strong gang that could handle even the toughest times. 

Arthur stood up and his hand came up to cup my cheek. He guided my head up so I could make eye contact with him. He had gentle eyes and he moved his head so that we were almost kissing. 

“Listen to me girl, I will always love you. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. Don’t ever feel like that, you hear me?” He asked and I nodded, wanting to look away from him. I still felt self-conscious. 

He wasn’t having it because he made me look at him again and this time, his lips crashed onto mine. His lips moved against mine, moving in sync with my lips. His lips were rough but at the same time soft as they moved along with mine. I could never get enough of Arthur’s kissing. It had me addicted and I know I could kiss his lips forever. 

He pulled away, panting only a little. “Let me show you how much I love you.” 

I gave a little nod of my head before his lips were back on mine. The kiss was somewhat gentle and it almost made me dizzy. Those lips of his would be the death of me. His tongue swiped along my bottom lip, begging for entry. I graciously allowed him entrance, opening my mouth enough for his tongue to explore.

The kiss deepened and I didn’t even try to dominate the kiss, there was no point. Arthur was always the dominant one in the relationship. I just obey everything he tells me to do. 

Arthur’s hand gripped my hips and he turned us so that I was facing near the bed. He then moved us forward so that my legs hit the bed, causing me to fall onto the bed. Arthur stayed standing. He grabbed both of the overall’s on his shoulders and pulled them down. He then proceeded to unbutton his shirt. I just laid there and watched him. When his shirt was completely unbuttoned, he took it off and looked at me with a smouldering gaze. 

He was so good looking, I was so lucky to have him.

Arthur’s hands trailed down to his boots. He somehow managed to take them off with lightning speed and had managed to unbutton his pants along with pulling the zip down. All he had to do was pull those pants down and he was fully exposed while I was fully dressed. 

Finding it unfair, I had decided to unbutton my shirt. I had lent forward to completely take the shirt off. Arthur helped me, taking off my boots. He then leant over me, both of his hands on either side of my head. I could tell he didn’t want to put his weight on me and I appreciated that but we were not close enough. 

Arthur’s had managed to unbutton my pants and undo the zipper whilst I was distracted looking at his beauty. He then pulled them down, leaving me only in my underwear. I grabbed his face, making him look at me before pressing my lips against his. Arthur liked my bold move and continued to kiss me back. Becoming lazy, Arthur rested on his arms, causing him to be lowered. Making it easier to kiss. 

Arthur’s right hand travelled down my neck to the valley of my breasts. He growled when feeling the cloth in between my skin and his hands. He grabbed my waist, pulling me up. He then moved his other hand to grip the clasp of my bra, ripping it off. No doubt breaking my bra. He pulled the bra off and broke the kiss to look at the now exposed flesh. 

His eyes showed admiration and I felt my cheeks heating up. I had never felt so flustered around a man before. 

His hands came down to rub my nipples gently. His thumb flicked over the right one, a gasp protruding from my mouth. He looked up at me with a small smile on his face. His head went into the crevice between my neck and shoulder. His lips made contact, kissing here and there. His lips then travelled down to my collarbones. He sucked for a few minutes before moving back down to my left breast. He sucked on my nipple causing me to throw my head back in pleasure. Arthur flicked from left to right, rotating three more times before getting bored. 

He moved down my body, his lips coming in contact with my belly and slowly gliding down. His finger hooked in my panties and ever so slowly, pulled them down. He looked up at me and gave a light kiss to my belly, his hands holding my hips so I was restricted with movement. 

“I love you so much Y/N.” He whispered and I shuddered. 

When my panties were finally off, he lowered his head. 

He licked up my slit, a moan slipping from my lips. His tongue met up with my clit causing my hands to automatically grab his hair, pushing his head closer to where I needed him most. Arthur’s hands were still gripping my hips and still restricted me from bucking into his mouth. My legs wrapped around his head. 

Arthur rotated his tongue against my clit and I bit my lip to hold my moans back. Arthur didn’t seem to like that as he growled and brought his right hand down only to insert his pointer and middle finger in my pussy. A load moan managed to escape and I gripped Arthur’s hair even tighter. Arthur’s tongue continued the ministrations on my clit and the same with his hands. 

A tightening formed in my abdomen and I knew I was getting close. Arthur sensed this too and completely pulled back, causing me to whine at the loss of pleasure and contact. 

“Sorry darlin’, I can’t wait any longer.” Arthur’s hand trailed down to his pants and pulled them down, exposing me to his pulsating cock. It was hard and ready and I was beginning to be impatient. I wriggled in his grip but it only seemed to get tighter. 

Eventually, he lined his cock up with my entrance. He looked at me as if waiting for my permission to get what I’ve been almost begging for. I nodded and he gave me a little smirk before thrusting in slightly. 

His girth had caused my walls to stretch but it made the pleasure increase. As he continued to slide in deeper, I felt fuller than ever. When Arthur’s cock was fully inside of me, he waited until I gave the signal to go ahead. His cock inside me had my stomach tingling. 

I arched my back forward, letting Arthur know that I am ready for whatever he was going to give me. Arthur understood and pulled out. I whined at the feeling of being empty. Seconds later Arthur’s cock plunged back into me hard and rough. I moaned loudly as I wrapped my legs around his waist, allowing deeper access. 

Arthur continued thrusting into me, placing all his frustrations into the thrusts. He was being rough and hard but it was still sweet. The pleasure pulsated through my body and I moaned loudly, not giving a fuck who heard me. 

“Yes Arthur, yes, yes, it feels so good baby!” I moaned aloud and he grunted in response. Arthur’s thrusts accelerated and with every thrust, I was being jolted forward. 

Arthur’s hands travelled from my waist to my thigh, picking the left one up and throwing it over his shoulder. The stretch of my legs caused Arthur to have more access, causing me to scream in pleasure. 

“Yes! Yes! Right there, Arthur! Yes, you fuck me so good.” I screamed out. Arthur’s lips kissed my jawline and sucked, definitely making a bruise there the next day. 

A coil in my stomach was forming, along with a tightness and I knew I was close to orgasming. Arthur picked up on this and dragged his hand down my body to my clit. His thumb pressed on it, gyrating it in circles. Jolts of pleasure shot down my abdomen, only causing my moans to increase. 

“Arthur, baby, I’m gonna cum. Yes, keep going baby, I love you so much!” My words were rushed, my panting causing my words to be broken. I was so in love with this man and I was so stupid to doubt myself. 

Arthur’s lips made contact with mine and that was when the coil snapped. My body jolted forward and I broke the kiss to throw my head back as pleasure spread through my whole body. My body shook and I could feel my nails scratching down Arthur’s back, no doubt leaving scratch marks tomorrow. I screamed Arthur’s name making sure the whole camp knew who was making me feel this good. 

Arthur brought my jaw down to kiss me, his thrusts still continuing at the same pace. Arthur’s thrusts helped me ride through my high and eventually I knew Arthur was gonna come. 

Arthur came with a loud groan, his seed spilling in me. Arthur’s thrusts stilled as he dropped every drip he had into me, causing a strange tingling in my body. The mere thought that I could carry Arthur’s baby had me excited. I knew we talked about it, I knew he wasn’t planning just yet but it still excited me. 

When we both came down from our highs, Arthur pulled out and laid down beside me. We were both panting and our chests were rising up and down rapidly. We looked at each other and I could tell he was observing my face. 

I giggled and kissed him on the lips. “I love you so much, Arthur Morgan,” I whispered against his lips. 

He smiled at me, kissing me once again. 

“I love you more Y/N, I always will.” It was then that I realised, I didn’t have to worry at all. As long as I had Arthur and Arthur had me, we could conquer the world. 

Thank you for reading. 

- REDDEADINMYBED

[yeet-or-be-hawed]

High Honor!Arthur Vs Low Honor!Arthur: Style, preferences, and other small details

I base a lot of my fics off of my personal play throughs with Arthur, as far as how he dresses, looks, and the way he acts. I’ve played through as good and bad Arthur, and these are just small details that I usually omit from fics bc the details are small and let’s face it, we’re not here for what he’s wearing.

Clothing:

High Honor: More casual, colors on the cooler side. Blacks, whites, maybe some dark red here or there. This Arthur spends more time around camp and off helping others, so he tends to be a little dirtier. His self confidence isn’t very high so he usually doesn’t care about how he’s dressed, as long as he’s comfortable.

Low Honor: Very stylish. He usually wears warmer colors, Browns, chocolates, reds, and bieges. This Arthur knows exactly how attractive he is, and uses it to his advantage. He sees work around the camp as beneath him, and is generally in a hurry to get where he needs to be. He keeps himself clean and kept as a way to keep out of the public eye. A sharp looking man is less suspicious than a dirty bumpkin.

Hair/facial hair styling:

High Honor: His hair tends to be messy and unkept. He brushes it and washes it sure, but he’s a working man so pomade is useless against mid day sun and manual labor. High and low honor Arthur keeps a full beard, but high honor Arthur let’s it grow and sit naturally. He doesn’t trim or style it.

Low Honor: Again, Low Honor Arthur cares more for his appearance, so his hair is kept slightly shorter and styles his mustache into a handlebar. It’s in style at the time, and the ladies love it.

Horses:

High Honor: White Arabian, found while exploring. Arthur obsesses to keep this horse clean, even though he can barely keep himself clean. His admiration for animals has always run deep, and this beautiful Arabian holds a very special place in Arthur’s heart.

Low Honor: Black Arabian, bought from the stables in Saint Denis. After Boadecia, Arthur had trouble finding a horse he had a real connection to. He bounced from horse to horse, usually stealing them when they catch his eye. This Arthur isn’t as much of a horse enthusiast and primarily looked for horses based on appearance. When he saw that black beauty, he was sold.

Saddles:

High Honor: Practicality is everything. Arthur will replace everyone on the saddle except the saddle if it’s still in good condition. He doesn’t like to draw attention to himself, so he usually goes with some inconspicuous and usually something one solid color. An artist he may be, but color theory has always eluded him.

Low Honor: You can bet your ass he has the nicest saddle money can buy. His horse has to look as good as he does, and he usually matches his saddle and accessories to match his horse. He also has every upgrade money can buy. If you’ve got good stirrups, show him what you’ve got and make sure it’s your best one, more than likely he’s already got it.

Hats:

High Honor: Wears his hat for purpose, not for style. He’ll wear it to keep the sun out of his face and the dirt from his eyes, but that’s about it. It’ll give him hat hair but he doesn’t care. He keeps his ol’ reliable hat, he’s been gifted new ones over the years and looked in windows of hat shops and debated, but the character of the hat draws him to it. It’s worn and dusty and broken in, just the way he likes it.

Low Honor: There is not a man in camp with more hats than Arthur, and he will prove it. Arthur keeps a variety of hats, it’s become almost like a hobby for him. His tent is littered with them, hats of all shapes, sizes, and colors. This Arthur knows color theory very well, and seems to have a hat for every outfit and every occasion.

Weapon Preference:

High Honor: Bow and arrow are this Arthur’s weapon of choice. He has the most experience with it, doing lots of hunting for Pearson to keep the camp fed. He likes how quiet it is and, for the most part, he’s able to recollect most of his ammo. Simple, easy, and effective is the name of the game.

Low Honor: Guns, gun, and more guns. He doesn’t have much of a preference, just whatever is going to get the job done. This Arthur doesn’t care for how quiet or loud something is, he will always go in guns blazing. Being stealthy is boring to him, and he is known to be the wild card of the situation, quickly turning a carefully planned stealth mission into an all out gun fight. No one has ever scolded him for it because of how well is able to clean up the mess he makes.

I may edit this further down the road and add more, these are just the ones I had in mind. Like I said, the majority of these came from how I played/ am currently playing through in the game so they’re my own personal headcanons. I hope you all enjoy!

[outlawboah]

Murfee Brood was kidnapping a lady so I shot them and as I always free the horses from wagons I freed her with intentions to go make a little cash off rehoming a horse in need. Well this pretty little appaloosa here is now Buell’s little sister.

She’s missing fur. She’s got scars and open wounds. She’s been brushed, fed, gotten a horse care package at the stable, and that horrible tack from her old life off. Welcome to the family Boadecia II

[kittypichuofficial]

Can you spot the difference?

[just-another-busy-fangirl-writes]

November 25, 2016

I am going to be reposting old fic rec lists.  Unfortunately some of the blogs/stories have been removed, but I am still going to list them for historical reference.

Feel free to tag me in ANY fics you post, and see previous weeks’ fic recs HERE

SMUT

You’re going home with me by @ambecawatson (on AO3)  Prof. Castiel sits at a booth at a bar quietly reading&waiting till his ride home is ready to leave. He is listening, amused at the 3 girls the next table over, who are wagering on which girl is gonna talk the hot Bartender into going home with one of them after closing time. But of course Dean is not just the bartender, he’s the owner. Oh, and Castiel’s fiancé.

If You Hurt Me, That’s Okay Baby by blue_jack (on AO3)  “$1,000 isn’t enough money,” Castiel said, pulling the sheet closer to him, scanning the rows of numbers. “Please,” he said, and some of the worry and stress he was feeling must have been reflected on his face, because her expression softened. “Isn’t there another contract I can do?” She fidgeted with the folder. “I do have … one option.“

It’s Not That Kind of Bullet by @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog  Dean buys you a unexpected gift. Fun and smut ensues. This is just PWP, literally, it’s nothing but smut.

Rain Check by @mausoleumdean  Dean x reader, shower smut

Beyond Stressed by @moonlitskinwalker  Sam can’t find the book he needs, and it’s driving him insane. You know him well enough to know that he won’t get anywhere while wound up, so you decide to intervene.

Hurt So Good by @smack-that-assbutt (on AO3)  Cas needs to let off some steam.

To Make the Taker Mad by orphan_account (on AO3)  Dean’s exactly like other omegas, and it’s time for his long overdue heat.

One Way to Express Anger by @scorpiongirl1  I’m going to be honest, this is just a story about giving Sam a blowjob.

FLUFF

Fairest of Them All by @deans-impiela  Despite Lucifer and Gabriel’s attention, you only had eyes for a certain trench coat wearing angel.

Apple Pie Life by @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog  Dean finds out that maybe the apple pie life is possible.

The Fifth Morning by FlagofHeaven (on AO3)  A newly human Castiel doesn’t understand falling asleep so he asks Dean for advice. Dean grumpily lets Cas share his bed until he learns to sleep.

Sam and Gabriel are so done with Dean and Castiel by theelvenking (on AO3)  Sam and Gabriel are so done with Dean and Castiel who obviously like each other but aren’t willing to admit it

Sex Machine by toomuchagain (on AO3)  Sam has to put up with his humiliating brother and homophobic jerks. But at least maybe that UST is finally getting cleared up.

ANGST

Losing My Religion by @chelsea072498   Dean loves girl….girl loves Dean. What happens when I’ve had red wine and have been talking to someone who loves to write Angst as much as I do…

You Are My Sunshine by @chelsea072498   Reader is investigating a case and needs Dean and Sam’s help.

SERIES

Match-Maker by boadecia (on AO3)  The lovely Reader can’t stand the sexual tension between two certain people anymore, so she decides to take matters in her own hand. With the help of her best friend she plays Cupid and sets her OTP up, with unexpected consequences.

The Curse by @bookkbaby  Cas gets cursed by a witch.  Dean enjoys the entertainment.

Plus One by ceeainthereforthat (on AO3)   Castiel Novak might have to attend three weddings in two months, but he’s not about to let his brother play matchmaker. His family’s Internet streaming company is too important to let a relationship steal his time, but he knows exactly what to do–hire someone to pretend to be his boyfriend. Dean Winchester has worked five-star hospitality long enough to know how to fit in with Castiel’s crowd, and this job could score him the connections to make his acting career take off. It’s a business deal, no matter how they’re drawn to each other. When the lines of their contract start to blur into real feelings, can they withstand Castiel’s family and jealous fans working to split them up?

Lilies and Zepplin by @deanscolette  Dean is a punk high schooler who catches the reader’s eye.  She tutors his brother, Sam, and they get to know each other from there.

Trading Spaces by @ilostmyshoe-79  Sam enlists the assistance of a witch to help you and Dean work through your issues. He’s not expecting that help to come in the form of a body swap sell.

Fourth Time’s the Charm by @wevyrdove (on AO3)   Dean Winchester is a 26 year old virgin who loves comic books. When the artist for his favorite comic series, Mystic Knights, is announced as a guest at the local convention, Dean jumps at the chance to meet the enigmatic C Novak in person. He is surprised to find out that the artist is an extremely attractive older man, and even more surprised to find out that the attraction is mutual. With the encouragement and support of his friends, Charlie and Kevin, Dean shyly fumbles his way through his first real relationship. But will Dean’s lack of experience and poor self-confidence sabotage his chance for happiness, or will Castiel’s patience and understanding be rewarded? Together, Dean and Castiel discover out why it’s important to be willing and able to give each other and themselves a second, third, and even a fourth chance.

[carpet-shark]

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