#and he left Arthur to die because he was threatened by him

[arthur-morgans-last-journal]

RDR2 Horse analysis - Dutch Van der Linde

Hi, hi, don't mind me I'm just going to ramble incessantly into the void about the horses in RDR2 and how they reflect their riders. The RDR2 game developers and writers clearly put a lot of time and effort into designing the horses and the various breeds and choosing what horses the gang would ride specifically. There are lots of discrepancies between how the horse breeds and colors are represented in game and how they would be referred to in the real world, and I'm choosing to believe this is fully intentional. Any such discrepancies I point out are therefore not intended as a criticism, just. FYI.

This will of course contain spoilers for both RDR games.

First up is the easiest! Dutch!

Dutch rides a horse called The Count, and this is a very obvious allusion to his own sense of self-aggrandizement and import. Dutch fashions himself an outlaw prince, a king in waiting, a philosopher, and so of course his horse must be named for nobility and royalty. Dutch on The Count also just references a lot of imagery about european kings and riding noble white horses (like that one very famous painting of Napoleon on his grey horse) which also evokes imagery about man conquering nature and such.

The RDR2 wiki indicates The Count is an Arabian, which is probably the best breed of horse in the game--there's only four available to the player, one of which doesn't even show up in the game until the epilogue and therefore is never made available to Arthur. I suspect perhaps The Count's breed information is in the game data, but in game there is no way to know this. It does not show up in the compendium and the study feature only lists the color and stats. The information is blocked from the player, as if Dutch himself is preventing you from knowing The Count's breed lest you find a horse of similar quality.

The only information you get to know about The Count in RDR2 is the handling (elite), the stats (awesome) and the color, albino. Albinism exists in horses just like in any other animal, but it indicates very little about which breed the horse is, because it's just a genetic quirk. There are a couple of physical characteristics that differentiate an albino/white horse from a grey horse in real life--namely, there will be no pigment of the skin, hooves, and eyes in an albino horse. It is far, far more likely that a horse would be grey with a white-appearing coat, with dark skin, hooves and eyes. The Count does appear to be an actually albino or "white" horse as it would more commonly be called in the horse world. Dutch choosing to call it "albino" is an intentional choice and is probably intended to reflect the "specialness" of his mount and therefore himself.

This is important because it lends a credulity to Dutch and everything he says he is. He may be a narcissist, he may have delusions of grandeur, but he does have the rare, unique horse, the one that is unlike any other horse in the game, the only one of its coloration, because the other "white" Arabian horse in the game actually is grey in its coloration as you'd define it IRL (dark skin, hooves, eyes). He does mean what he says, he doesn't intend to get everyone killed, he just--can't help himself. It's not enough for Dutch to have the rare thing. Dutch has this fantasy of himself as an outlaw prince and so of course he has to ride a "white" horse like Jesus is supposed to in Revelations. That image is something Dutch proves throughout the game he'd go to any length to protect. He needs to gatekeep and protect it to maintain power, and prevent anyone else from obtaining something even close to similar.

And what's more, we learn of The Count that he's tempermental. He bucked Arthur off the one time he tried to ride him, because The Count "will take no one but [Dutch]." IRL that is very unusual behavior for a horse tbh. There's such a thing as incompatible horses and riders, especially if the rider isn't very experienced, but it's much more likely Dutch trained the horse to buck anyone else off, especially since we see Arthur is capable of working with and riding pretty much any other horse in the game including others of the same breed. And if he did train the horse to do so, it just lends more creedence to the idea that Dutch did so out of ego, to protect his image. The Count has to be the most temperamental and special of all the horses because if it wasn't, if Dutch had anything less than the best then he would feel his ego slighted.

Add to that the fact that The Count is the only horse in the group--of the gang members at least--that has "elite" handling is notable as well. These people are thieves and outlaws, they SHOULD all have "elite" horses, especially the ones who are actively taking part in all the action. But no, only Dutch. Because he has to be above everyone else. Because under no circumstance can he allow others to be faster, better, stronger, not even his allies. Arthur can't even purchase an "elite" horse until Sant Dennis, where there's a black Arabian in the stable.

And Dutch shames him for it! They have a horse race in Lemoyne to the second base camp, and he criticizes Arthur's skills as a rider, despite the fact that he's the one who rigged the deck. He tells Arthur it's "a shame he never really got the hang of riding" and it's because Dutch needs Arthur, needs him thinking he's dependent on Dutch, needs him thinking that he'll never be the man Dutch is. The fact that he knows Arthur loves horses, the fact that he is good with them and has been able to work with any horse he tries to ride except The Count, only makes the comment meaner, more effective, more humiliating. Your mileage may vary on what you think Arthur's internal reaction to this was. Mine was indignation and outrage on his behalf because Arthur has been the only reason the gang managed to stay together to this point and Dutch knows that, and is punishing Arthur for it here.

Dutch may love Arthur, may even know Arthur loves him. But he doesn't believe Arthur would stay with him and stay at his side no matter what, and he spends so much of the early half of the game trying to make absolutely sure Arthur has no thought of leaving, whether he has to use cruelty or kindness or praise to do it.

This is actually why in my first playthrough I chose to ride Bluell as soon as I got him, because firstly, he's a breed and color that actually exists (Cremello, Standardbred), and like The Count he's "elite." He also mirrors The Count's coloring in a way that's actually real and "obtainable" so to speak (Cremello colored horses are not common but they do exist in the world, you can go out and buy one if you like, you can breed for it). Dutch can have his dreams and fantasies, Arthur has something realler than that, more meaningful.

Bluell represented (to me) Arthur's blossoming into a truly redeemed man even as he died (obviously I played high-honor Arthur). And on top of that, Bluell was originally owned by a man who, imo, in this game represents the kind of person Arthur could have been, had he never met Dutch. A man who loved nature and loved living despite his suffering and struggles, who could have lived peacefully if Dutch had actually wanted that for anyone.

[arthursfuckinghat]

I'm still on chapter two of my second run but I'm learning and questioning a lot about Dutch the more I stay at camp.

The way he flicks from "you were always special to me, Arthur" to "I know you'll betray me in the end, you're the type" in the same day - and how frankly unfazed Arthur is to any of this really makes me wonder what it was really like for him growing up with Dutch as one of his parental figures.

Was it normal for Dutch to go back on his praises so often? Was it normal for Arthur to not take Dutch's words to heart because he knows he probably won't mean it? Did Arthur grow up having to be desensitised to any kind of praise because of Dutch's constant hot and cold reactions? What part did Hosea have in helping Arthur understand Dutch's ways?

Did anybody else see how Dutch (and partly Hosea, he isn't free of blame either) was indoctrinating Arthur through all their years together? How Dutch had perfectly crafted Arthur into being his personal work horse and guard dog?

Even in his final breaths, Arthur did not once blame Dutch for his demise or express any anger, he simply confessed how much he had tried and given Dutch all he had. He was hurt and exhausted and confused, the man who raised him had left him to die again.

He had chosen Micah, a man Dutch had known for not even a fraction of the time he had known Arthur, because Micah tells Dutch all the things he wants to hear.

Whereas Arthur asks questions, offers suggestions and isn't afraid to express his opinion - All the things Dutch dislikes and tends to mock him for (take the 'I insist' conversation for example), he sees it as a question of his authority and his 'faith' ideals.

Dutch seemed to need Arthur so much more than Arthur needed Dutch, was he afraid that Arthur would realise that?

Was Dutch threatened by Arthurs place in the gang?

[immajustvibehere]

Spark (8/8)

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader - Enemies to Lovers

Chapter 8 summary: Found and taken in by the Natives, Arthur is walking a fine line of living and dying. In the grip of illness and fever, he often imagines seeing you by his side.

This is a long chapter, so I gave it sub-headings. Easier to manage if you can't read it in one go :)

link to my masterlist

chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven

7500 words, +30 minutes reading time

I. The Downfall of the Gang

A prevailing notion circulated in the gang that you and Molly shared culpability for the Pinkertons’ decent upon Lagras. They nearly razed the settlement to the ground, and the frustration about the new location of camp being found out so soon certainly didn’t help to improve the general mood. With you gone, there was no way you could justify yourself and nobody was keen on defending you either, though some people were convinced of your innocence either way. Notably, Abigail, though somewhat resenting you for having left, given Jack’s affinity for you and John’s confinement, was sure you wouldn't send the agency to shoot at them. Artur knew that you wouldn't do such a thing, as you had absolutely no reason to. Many people in the gang knew that it was way likelier that the Pinkertons picked up the trail from some of the boys coming back from Guarma, considering the gang was worth almost nothing without its leader anyway.

Dutch readily agreed that it must have been you, his main intention probably being to silence Micah, whose ceaseless prattle on the matter had grown unbearable. Micah spit phrases like: "She probably thought that she could get rid of us so we wouldn't go after her for the betrayal."

This went too far, even for Dutch’s taste, who was aware that they had other battles to fight. It was useless to hunt either you or Molly down and just a waste of resources and guns that were scare to begin with.

Arthur was distraught that you were gone. When he rode out with Charles, to search for a new camping spot up North, Charles handed Arthur the gun that he had borrowed you. The gesture resonated with a finality surpassing all preceding farewells…though there hadn’t even been proper good-byes.

"She uhm...she said anything? 'bout where she's headed?", Arthur asked as he let the gun slip into his saddle bag.

"I'm sorry", Charles shook his head, "She was a great help when we moved camp, but she disappeared soon after. She gave me the gun and told me to hand it back to you if I get the chance. You know, we weren't even sure if you had survived."

And the topic was left at that. The gang moved to Beaver's Hollow and Arthur felt a sickness nagging on his body. He started boiling with rage, every time your name was mentioned in a negative sense. Mostly by Dutch and Micah. Soon after, Bill started to complain about you too. Arthur would be lying if he told someone that he wasn't looking for you. It wasn't an active search, but whenever he was in town, he'd ask a few men at the bar if they had seen a woman of your description. Though the answers were barely trustworthy most of the time.

At the saloon in Annesburg, he spoke to a drunk man, who, as answer to your description mumbled a "fierce little creature" before he fell asleep on the table. This was the best lead Arthur had, and it wasn't nearly enough. He was roaming the country, avoiding collecting the debts, suffering under how sluggish his body was willing to comply to what he wanted it to do.

The first time Arthur was happy you had left, is when the doctor had told him, that he had tuberculosis. Until then, Arthur had mixed feelings. He appreciated that you left the gang to save yourself, because it took no genius to understand that whatever had bound the gang together was a thin thread that threatened to snap any moment. When he saw how Molly ended, however miserable he felt for her, he had been glad it wasn't you that had come back to die in the dirt. And still he had harboured feelings of resentment for you. Leaving without a word, without showing yourself ever again, when on that ride back from Guarma to Shady Bell he had hoped for you to be there, for some hug or any sort of gentle sign that would have soothed his aching soul and body. He realized soon that he was foolish to hope for that. And that Micah was right to accuse him of having become soft, if your gentle hands was all he could think of, despite your hands being mostly anything but gentle.

But as he sat outside camp, wheezing and wiping the blood off his lips that he had coughed up, he was glad you weren't here. Whatever urges he had to be comforted, to see something else but a bitter and angry face, the feelings of having failed and paying for his sins was the stronger force. He deserved it, after all. And he shouldn’t wish for comfort.  

-

He, as many others, tried to avoid camp as often as possible. In those two weeks, when the hostility between him and Dutch was especially high, because he and Sadie had rescued John from prison, he spent most of the days roaming the country and helping strangers. It wasn't that those trips took his mind off you, quite the contrary.

It was when he was out fishing with Hamish, a veteran with an impulsive horse, that he mentioned you for the first time to anyone that wasn't Charles or Mary-Beth (not counting Jack, who regularly asked where you where and why you had gone).

"Ya know. There's this girl...we went fishing a while ago and she couldn't deal with the waiting."

Hamish felt that it was dangerous territory, so he considered Arthur's pondering face for a while before he finally said: "You should take her here sometime. While we wait for the fish to bite, I can tell her stories so interesting, she' gonna hope that nothing bites."

Arthur chuckled sadly and shook his head: "She left, 'm afraid. She was right to do so. Ain't especially lucky to be around me."

As if the universe heard those words, Hamish was pulled into the water only moments after by the gigantic Pike they were after. It gave him and Arthur something to laugh in the aftermath.

-

"I'll draw them away from you! Go!", Arthur yelled, desperate pulling the reigns of his horse as John dismounted his.

"Come with me", John implored, "We can make it out of here!"

But Arthur understood he couldn't. The train heist only hours before and Abigail’s rescue had drained his strength. His body was tired, no, it was surrendering. He knew he couldn’t keep up the pace. His horse was his only support now, if he abandoned it, his legs would betray him. It wasn't just the tiredness of his limbs, he felt nauseous, sick, the sweat was on his forehead, causing his hat to cling uncomfortably.

"No. I pushed all I can”, Arthur’s voice was strained, “I'll buy ya some time, keep them off your back a while longer, you run and join Abigail and Jack."

"You're my brother!"

"I know", and with those words said, the brothers turned their backs to each other, John fleeing up the mountain, Arthur desperate circling the small area with his horse, firing round after round until he had shot himself a path of escape. The horse’s pained bucking under the impact of a bullet seared through Arthur’s heart, yet he urged it on. The loyal animal complied, carrying its master through thicket and woods as bullets whizzed past. Finally, it collapsed, half of its heavy body falling on Arthur who had ungraciously been thrown off.

The head of the horse was weirdly twisted, but Arthur still heard its heavy breaths. That aside, it was silent in the forest. Killing it would be the noble thing to do. But his vision was already blurred when his hands crept to his gun that was long out of bullets. And before he realized that it was silent in the forest and he had managed to shake the Pinkerton’s, Arthur closed his eyes, not being able to fight the exhaustion any longer.  

He was dead. Or dying, at least, because every time he gained consciousness, his whole body felt like it was on fire. With immense effort, he pried his eyes open, only to be greeted by a hazy image, his pounding headache blurring his surroundings. Arthur struggled against his own lethargy, he wanted to gain control of his body again. Neither of his limbs moved, no matter the effort he was putting into it. His eyes wouldn’t focus, his chest no rise enough for a proper breath. Every time however, without failure, weariness washed over him and unconsciousness reclaimed him before he could even form a thought about the state he was in. It was a cruel cycle.

When Arthur woke up for the third, maybe fourth time – there was no way of keeping count of those seconds of consciousness – he thought only one thing: Namely, that if that was dying, he hoped it would go a little quicker.

At some point, Arthur stirred awake. He felt stronger than before and finally had enough wits to take in some of his surroundings. It was nighttime, he perceived the nocturnal chorus of crickets. His attempt to open his eyes was met with a revelation, his vision, though fatigued, offered him a somewhat clear image. It was exhausting to look; he barely blinked a few times. He was in a tent, or something of that sort, he noticed. And it rocked around, like a boat or a waggon…or maybe he was just feeling dizzy. And when he managed to move his head just a little, to glared to the side, there were you. For a second, Arthur thought nothing. Then he concluded that he must be dreaming or was indeed dead and this was some funny way to pay for his sins. He closed his eyes. His arms felt too heavy, he wouldn't be able to rub his eyes or pinch his nose in concentration. But he simply opened them again. And the image of you was gone. So was Arthur's consciousness, a few moments later.

II. The Recovery

Over the next couple of days, Arthur would wake up from time to time. Sometimes seeing you, sometimes faces of women he didn't recognize. Dark skin and dark hair, Indians, he thought. Then he'd have nightmares that sometimes took his breath away and he'd wake up, feeling like a heavy weight was crushing his chest. And there would be someone - you, another woman, some strange man - pressing wet rags to his face and he wasn't strong enough to complain about it. To tell them to stop because it kept waking him up from dying, from sleeping, from unconsciousness. Whatever that black void was he'd fall in, but he much preferred it because then his body didn't hurt so much.

"You're going to be alright, mister."

Arthur opened his eye to look into the face of a dark-skinned woman. Braids falling from her head that was dangling right onto his face. There was the wet rag again, but it didn't feel so crushing this time.

Finally, his vision was…almost clear.

It was she who explained that he had collapsed and now was with Rains Fall’s people, as they were heading North to escape. The women that took care of him, Arthur caught glimpses of three different faces and though his headache was mostly gone, a persistent cloudiness lingered over his senses. Maybe it was because he sometimes seemed so confused or because he still lacked some control over when he fell asleep out of exhaustion, but when they talked to him, it was always very vague.

"Your friend will return soon. He's securing the perimeter, but he'll be back in a day or two", one of the women explained to him. They must mean Charles, he was certain. But when he wanted to ask, he found that it was hard forming words. His throat was parched and the attempt to speak yielded only a hoarse croak. A sympathetic smile from the woman conveyed understanding, at least.

….

You had sat at his side for four hours. It was late at night, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave his side. You had been running errands the last couple of days and had missed him waking up. Well, waking up without fever and therefore capable of forming thoughts. Tonight, he was restless, dreaming maybe.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and grabbed your wrist. His hand was clammy, still remnants of his sickness and probably his latest nightmare, but this time – for the first time ever – he was fully awake.

"It's okay, I'm right here", you reassured him.

Arthur simply stared at you like you were a ghost. Then his eyes narrowed to one of his signature contemptuous stares. It was a terrifying expression that you had seen a couple of times before. His nose would scrunch in disdain and his facial muscles were coiled with tension – a sign of irritation. In a firefight, it marked the precipice of drawing his gun; in a brawl, it forewarned of the impending launch of his first punch.

"Yer real" Arthur stated, his assertion hung in the air. His voice was low and quiet. It sounded like he needed something to drink, something to oil up his throat that has dried up from weeks of not using it.

"Unfortunately so, yeah", you said. Your heart sped up. He was awake. Finally. After all those days of not knowing if he'd make it, he was okay. Far from fit or fully recovered, but he wasn't dying no more. The thought made your eyes wet and forget about Arthur's sceptical glance.

Arthur blinked slowly. Those weren't dreams. They never had been. You had been there all this time.

Arthur closed his eyes again without saying something. His hand slipped from your wrist and onto his chest. He didn't want to talk, no, he didn't even want to see you right now. A swell of emotions came over him and he wasn't sure how to feel about your presence. For his inner turmoil, he kept silent on the outside, giving you the impression that he had dozed off again.

Eventually, he really fell asleep. Though when he awoke and pled for water before even opening his eyes, it was you who led a bowl to his lips. Whenever he woke up, you would be there, ready to jump at his commands. You didn't speak about why you were here or where you had been. Nothing of that matter. Nothing about Dutch or Micah or little Jack. It was always just handing him water or soup or helping him change his clothes.

Two days later, Charles showed up with a warm: "Welcome back, brother." It was he who explained what had happened. That two Indians had found him unconscious, buried under his horse. That his leg had been bruised from the impact, and he was weak, feverish and on the brink of death. It was an intricate matter, caring for him while heading North with the tribe and he admitted that only after one day with him under their care, Charles had seriously considered staying behind and caring for him. It had slowed down the group that much. Then they ran into you, simply sitting on your horse and watching the caravan of people go, before catching Charles' eye.

Arthur remained conflicted when Charles broached the topic of you. This inner struggle was not lost on Charles, keen observer that he has always been.

"She took good care of you. Without her, your recovery might have been in doubt."

And as this didn't seem to do the trick, he added…

"She sat with you every night. Washed you, made sure you had everything you needed. Even though Rains Fall disagreed, she stole a waggon so you had a comfortable place to get better.”

“She had left, Charles…”, Arthur croaked. You leaving the gang behind had left him with mixed feelings. He had worked through them before and had arrived at the conclusion that it was better for you, and still…seeing you here, healthy and restless, he regretted not having you there at the end. You could have been of great assistance. Could have prevented Abigail from being taken or made John’s prison break easier. Hell, he might have had more fun killing the last of the O’Driscoll’s if you had been by his side. The prospect of your sudden absence when he might have required your presence left a bitter aftertaste in his mind.  

“Don’t blame her for that. She had no obligation to stay, she was only with us for little more than a month at this time and she could tell that it was coming to an end”, Charles said.

Arthur thought what might have happened if you had been there at the stand-off. The notion of having another ally by his side, countering the overpowering presence of Bill, Javier, Micah and his two traitorous cronies, weighed heavily on his mind Yet, this reverie crumbled upon realization – there was the cruel possibility that instead of Miss Grimshaw, you would have found your demise. Or considering your proclivity for action over passivity, you might have opened fire earlier and would have caused an even worse outcome. Yes, maybe your absence had been the better.

“She rode hours through rain to fetch you a doctor”, Charles went on as he saw Arthur’s thoughts wander, “She found a nice man with a waggon. The doctor said he knew you and that you helped him one time in Rhodes.”

That put a little smile on Arthur’s lips, because he remembered the Doctor well. He was talking all funny and had had his waggon stolen. “Yeah”, Arthur answered as a sign of recognition.

Even Charles didn’t know what more to say, so he put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, before he left him alone.

The group had settled down near a creek. You had been on the move for a while now, and food supplies were running low, so they had decided to camp here for a couple of days, until hunting and gathering had provided enough resources to continue the travel. It was then that Arthur left his little nest that had been made for him. A simple waggon really, with some linen span across it to shield him from the weather. Sitting up was exhausting, but he managed to more or less crawl to the opening, sitting there and letting his legs dangle from the waggon. Everyone was working. The horses were grazing, a couple of kids were running around. It wasn’t difficult to spot you, chopping some wood and carrying it to the fire. That’s when you caught Arthur’s eye and approached him.

Seeing him out of “bed” put a big smile on your face.

“Why even bother?”, Arthur asked when you had reached him, jumping up the waggon to sit next to him. “Should’ve shot me when they found me. Tuberculosis can’t be healed, as far as I’ve heard.”

“Tuberculosis? What are you talking about?”, you looked at Arthur curiously. He stared back in silence, furrowing his eyebrows.

"It's what I've got", Arthur explained, a little sceptical as if your gaze alone had made him unsure of the diagnosis.

"You don't have tuberculosis. At least, the doctor we consulted said so", a smile played on your lips. A knowledgeable smile, as if you knew more than him. It was a cheeky smile.  

Arthur didn't believe you.

"Y/n, I was on the brink of death when you found me. I cough up more blood than I ever lost through bullets…taking a deep breath was almost impossible.”

"How's it now though? The breathing...", you asked.

Arthur halted and for the first time since he had regained consciousness, he drew in a deep breath. Then another, and another. It was slightly uncomfortable, as though something was constricting his lungs and made it harder for him to let air in, but it didn't hurt. It was only after the fourth big breath that a slight cough stirred from within. But it didn't ripple his airpipe, bringing red fluid onto his lips. It almost tickled. It reminded him of the sensation of pressing upon a spot where a bruise had once been, recently faded. It wouldn’t hurt, but it would tickle, and the skin would be terribly sensitive.

"It's...okay I guess", Arthur concluded.

You smiled, satisfied: "You don't have TB. I mean...maybe you do, but Doctor said if you had, it wouldn't have shown so soon and with such vigour. But he did say you had the worst case of pneumonia he had ever seen. We weren't sure you'd make it. But now that you have pulled through the worse", you shrugged, "I'm afraid you'll have to see my ugly face still."

Arthur didn't know what to say. Was he relieved? Happy, even? He didn't know. He was just speechless.

"Doctor said that in case you recover, you'll have to rest a lot. He knew you, by the way. Black fella with a nice-looking waggon. Weird grinder thing on top. Had to help him fix a wheel when I brought him up here. He said you had helped him some time ago, fighting the people who had stolen his waggon. And then he said you wouldn't be fighting anyone for a while, even when you are back on your feet. You need to rest for months, fresh air,...and especially, seeing that you have lost about half your weight, lots of good food. No smoking, of course."

Arthur’s chuckle rippled through the air as he started to grasp the situation. “That’s quite the relief”, he murmured, chuckled lightly as he finally started to grasp the whole situation: “That’s good news.”

“What? That you look like skin and bones?”, you teased, bumping your shoulder into his.

“No. That I’ll get to see your ugly face for some time longer”, he bumped back, stronger than you had and almost knocking you into the edge of the waggon. You hadn’t been so relieved for a long time. You felt something thick in your throat and tears gathered at the corners of your eyes.

“Missed ya, ya know”, you said quickly before a sob could work its way up.

“I missed ya too”, Arthur looked at you. He noticed the wet eyes and scrunched his nose immediately: “You gone soft while I was out? You crying ‘cause of me?”

The teasing tone alone was so friendly and welcome, it cheered you up even more.

“You ain’t worth crying over, Mr. Morgan”, you lied.

“Damn right I’m not”, he said. He let his eyes roam around the camp again. It felt familiar. The image or Horseshoe Overlook came to him, but this was different, of course. Or was it?

“You hungry?”, you asked.

“Starving. If ya can offer something else but soup”, Arthur quickly added. He only had eaten soup the last days. It was the only meal which didn’t require chewing and wouldn’t immediately choke him in his half-conscious state. This time, you brought him a small portion of stew. Not comparable to the stew Mr. Pearson had cooked. The small pieces of meat that you had granted him in his portion were as soft as they possibly could be, almost melting in his mouth.

“Slow down, god damn it”, you warned him.

“Yes, ma’am”, Arthur quietly mumbled. It was hard to slow down, but he knew he had to, since this was the first time he ate properly in – he later was being told – 13 days.

In the evening, you approached him again. Arthur was lying in his bed, half-recumbent with his journal on his lap. It was closed, Arthur was merely thinking. He had flipped through some entries before, but now he enjoyed being idle and watching everyone getting ready for the night.

“Arthur”, you knocked at the wood before appearing in his field of vision, “got something for you. I almost forgot, I had it stored away.”

You climbed on the waggon and put down a gunnysack. You carefully spilled its contents onto the floor. Arthur recognizes the round glass with the flower first. Then the picture of his mother. The picture of him and Mary. The shot of his father, though big chunks of the little picture were charcoaled and burnt, he only recognized it because he had looked at it so often. Two shirts, one pair of pants and an old belt that he hadn’t used in a while.

“That’s all that was really left, I’m afraid”, you said. He didn’t need to ask, he understood. You had gone back to where they had last camped and had rummaged through what was left after the fire to store it for him.

“Why did you…?”, Arthur started, picking up the picture of his mother.

“I…don’t know. I never had many belongings to my name, but those I had, meant much to me. Figured you feel the same”, you shrugged. Then a cheeky smile appeared on your lips: “Thought it would be nice to bury you with them if you didn’t make it.”

Arthur clicked his tongue. “It was stupid to go there. Might have been dangerous.”

“Felt worth it for me, I guess”, you said.

After a pause, Arthur thanked you. You wished him a good night at let him be. As soon as your frame vanished from the little field of view that the open canvas space granted him, he opened his journal again. He pulled out Mary’s last letter to him. Not reading the neatly written words again, he simply turned the envelope upside down, until the ring fell into his hand.

…

It took two more days before Arthur was strong enough to walk around and be on his feet for more than ten minutes at a time. But he felt fine enough to take a bath in the creek and shave. It was shocking to see his cheeks that have sunken quite a bit due to the weight loss, but Arthur’s appetite was as good as ever, so you didn’t worry about it too much.

Most of the day he spent by sitting in the shade and observing the people. Mostly you, if he was being honest. You played with the kids, helped wherever another hand was needed.

He was trying to get up from his little patch under a tree when Rains Fall approached him. Arthur hadn’t encountered him yet, he had been busy with arranging and managing the move. The last time Arthur had seen him, he had delivered him his dying son.

“How are you, Mr. Morgan?”, Rains Fall’s voice was as gentle as ever.

“Feeling much better now. I can’t thank you enough for taking me in”, Arthur said.

“After all you have done for us, it is I who must thank you”, Rain Falls smiled slightly. Silence ensued between the two men before Rains Fall spoke again, “I recall our conversation when you were my company on the ride up the mountain. You said that some people in your gang still had a chance for a good live and that you wanted to give them that.”

“Yeah”, Arthur said, his eyes fixed on you. You were brushing some horse in the distance.

“What’s with her?”, Rains Fall asked, following Arthur’s gaze, “I heard she took excellent care of you. Charles told me she’s a fierce spirit when cornered, but she seems tame and gentle. I can see that you care for her deeply too.”

“Suppose I do”, Arthur answered, “I’m not sure if that’s what she wants.”

“There are always some uncertainties in life, don’t waste too much thought on those that can be resolved with one simple question”, the chief answered. Arthur nodded, as if he understood, though he wasn’t so sure how much of the situation he had actually grasped. The ring that Arthur had picked out of the letter was in his pocket, and he felt it, when Rains Fall spoke those words. When nothing more was said on that matter, Rains Falls sighed: “Tomorrow, we’ll be on the move again. We haven’t covered much ground yet, but I’m certain we’ll make it.”

It was a statement that needed no comment and Arthur watched as the old man walked away.

-

The group barely covered ten miles a day. It was a good pace, nevertheless, for Arthur was on his feet again and tried to make himself useful. He tended to the horses, seeing they are well cared for and rested for the journey. All this time, you were pretty much at his side non-stop.

“You used to say ya don’t need me to do babysitting…but now yer the one watching me like I’m gonna do something stupid the second you lay your eyes off me”, Arthur teased.

“I don’t trust you to do no heavy lifting”, you said with a smile. It was a good opportunity to be close to him and help.

All of a sudden, you had started sleeping in the same waggon as he. Because the one you had used was “needed otherwise”. You sat next to him at night, watching him draw in his journal and often fell asleep way before him. Arthur was unsure if this was a sign that everything was like before, that you still liked him, but he was glad about the closeness again. The second night, he held you. The third night, you fell asleep with your head resting on his chest.

-

“I’m going to leave”, you said. You sat next to Arthur and watched his pencil strokes. They had been shading the horse he had just sketched. The pencil halted and Arthur looked at you.

“What?”

“Day after tomorrow, I’m leaving. I want to head south again. Then west, maybe”, you looked Arthur in the eye. His blue eyes which were warmly illuminated by the oil lamp in the waggon darted around your face. You weren’t teasing or joking, he could tell as much.

“You know I’m not someone who sticks with a group. If this thing goes bad, I’ll feel like I’m responsible”, you offered further explanation.

“Yer gonna head out there alone?”, Arthur asked, his voice strained.

“Was hoping you’d join me, actually”, you swallowed. You had dragged the question out for a while now. You knew that Arthur needed to be somewhat recovered if he was to travel with you, so you had had a good excuse for not asking for a long while. But the last couple of days the anxiety had been eating you from the inside.

Arthur didn’t answer. He watched you; you watched your own hands. As he remained silent, you unwillingly lifted your head to look at him. This was all that Arthur needed. His hand found your chin and lifted it even more, turning it towards him. In the blink of an eye, your lips met. Arthur tasted the tobacco on your lips and figured he missed smoking. Or at least, he missed sharing a cigarette with you.

“I thought you might not like me no more”, Arthur said as the kiss had ended. Both of your faces remained so close, your foreheads touched, and Arthur only needed to whisper the words to make you understand.

“Well, there’s always been lot of nonsense in your brain”, you grinned. You were relieved, because frankly, you had feared the same.

You kissed him again before asking: “Can I take that as a yes?”

“You better”, Arthur breathed, now snaking his hands around you and pulling you into yet another kiss.

III. The Life After

The parting with the Rains Fall and his people unfolded smoothly. Farewells were exchanged without any pressure of time and in good spirits. Charles and Arthur, in particular, enjoyed a more extended exchange of goodbyes compared to their previous parting. Both could go smiling, knowing that the other one would be fine.

Arthur got a spare horse, a young, not entirely tamed one, though Arthur was more than capable of handling it. Your travels back South progressed fast. It took a toll on Arthur, traveling on horseback after he had only been on his feet for a week, but you took care of that with long breaks and early nights. Sometimes, you’d rest for an entire day, also giving the horses some time to recover. You’d take care of food in a nearby town or go hunting, while Arthur watched the little possessions you travelled with. By the time you reached Ambarino, the leaves on the trees had assumed hues of red and brown and the nights were getting colder.

“Shouldn’t we head West?”, Arthur halted his horse. You had just crossed the Grizzlies and had travelled along the Dakota River for a while, before you stirred your horse East. The air was fresh, and Arthur was wrapped in a coat you had bought in a town before crossing the Grizzlies. The sun was still strong enough that the buttons could remain open, but sometimes a strong gush of wind would send a shiver through your spine and remind you that winter would be here soon.

“We can’t continue traveling”, you said. Arthur was exhausted, and so were you.

“So, what do you suggest?”, Arthur rode next to you, stirring his horse into a slow trod next to yours.

“I know a place where we can lay low for the winter”, you said, not explaining further, even though you felt Arthur’s curious gaze. Only when you arrived at O’Creagh’s Run later that day and headed so decidedly for Hamish Sinclair’s cabin, Arthur understood.

“That’s where you wanna live?”, he asked amusedly.

“Nice man lives there. I’m sure he’ll let us stay with him for a while”, you explained. Arthur smiled, but didn’t want to spoil that he knew the old veteran. Hamish was already outside doing repairs on his little boat when he saw you approach.

“Ain’t that a nice surprise!”, Hamish raised his arms, “A visit by two friends at once!”

Now it was your turn to be surprised: “You know each other?!”

“Of course. Arthur Morgan!”, Hamish shook the hand of Arthur as soon as he had dismounted, “You’ve lost some weight my friend, but you look as fine as ever.”

Over hot coffee, Hamish was filled in on the happenings of the last month. When you asked to stay at his place for a while, Hamish was delighted. Almost immediately, you started to build another bed, because it was agreed upon that Arthur would need something more comfortable to sleep on. You would be fine with the floor in front of the fireplace for now and Hamish would continue to sleep in his bed.

It worked remarkably well. The three of you were rather quiet and when something needed to be done, it was done sooner rather than later. Arthur fished most of the time, you were out hunting with Hamish. Hamish would teach you to cook some meals, because, as he put it “A man that has lived alone for such a long time, knows his cooking spoon”, and you’d run errands in town, if something needed to be fetched. The fall of the Van der Linde Gang was still comparably recent, so the posters were still all about and to risk Arthur being seen, wasn’t a risk anyone was willing to take.

As idyllic as most of the days passed, one would think that there weren’t any struggles or that you spent your days hunting and selling pelts. But you would have never been able to sell enough pelts to support three adults, so sometimes, you’d go out and rob a stage or some rich looking traveller. You told Arthur but kept quiet in front of Hamish.

The days became shorter and the chill of winter settled in, Arthur’s recovery progressed steadily. He started to put on some more weight and longer walks or chopping wood didn’t leave him struggling for air any longer. Hamish would sometimes go out for a whole day, granting the two of you precious moments of solitude and intimacy.

In December, Hamish announced he’d be gone for a few days, visiting a cousin in Valentine. He’d be back for Christmas Day, he promised. Arthur and you considered the possibility that Hamish’ cousin was a fabrication, a ruse to give the two of you some more time alone. Nevertheless, you appreciated the gesture wholeheartedly.

Snow had fallen and the fireplace had been ceaselessly crackling in the past few days. So, the hut remained comfortably warm. In Hamish’ absence, you shared Arthur’s bed. Nestled against his chest, you traced circles through the dark patch of hair just below his navel. The only sounds to be heard were the steady crackling of the fire and the hoot of an owl nestled in a nearby tree.

“Ya mean a lot to me, y/n”, Arthur’s words slipped out so unexpectedly that you sat up and looked at him with surprise and suspicion. You were well aware of his feelings. After all, he had demonstrated as much just half an hour ago, in that very bed.

“Yer talking strange”, you remarked and raised an eyebrow.

“I love you”, Arthur said, his tone carrying an unusual weight.

“And…I love you too”, you replied slowly. This wasn’t the first time you had said that to each other, but the manner in which Arthur said it felt different. Arthur gave you a look that was so full of uncertainty and self-depreciation for himself, you lightly slapped him on his bare shoulder.

“What is going on? Did I do something wrong?”, you asked. You even raised the blanket to check if this was a new sort of foreplay that he was trying because he was ready for the second round. It was also an attempt to lift the mood, because the tension of the situation started to prickle your skin.

“Ain’t nothing wrong. I just gotta ask ya something and it ain’t easy”, Arthur complained. sitting up straight.

“Yes. I’m sorry Arthur, but the Gingerbread you baked yesterday is inedible”, you joked. You and Arthur had tried to make some gingerbread yesterday and because you hadn’t felt like baking, he had taken control of the matter. The result was…lacking, to say the least. You had lied that it looked and tasted alright, but you had been sure that by the disgusted face you had made it was clear that it had to disappear before Hamish came back and threw them out for dishonouring his kitchen.

“That’s not it and…”, Arthur looked at you funny, “It wasn’t that bad.” You smiled at him sympathetically.

“I just…god damn it, woman”, Arthur rearranged his sitting position. The he got up and slipped into his pants and shirt. He was somewhat angry, irritated maybe. Or nervous? You watched him confused.

Arthur was still fastening his pants when his voice, low and hesitant, reached your ears: “I just wanted you to know that I love ya…”

You nodded as if it was silly to suggest otherwise. With Arthur’s warmth now absent from your side, your body was cooling down and you pulled the blanked further up. And then Arthur caught you completely off guard because he knelt down besides the bed. His fingers swiftly plunged into his pockets and retrieved a ring.

“I was wondering if ya might wanna marry me”, Arthur voice was firm. He didn’t want to give the impression that he was in any doubt that he wants to spend the rest of the time with you. He was fully aware that he wasn’t the youngest anymore and that the sickness had marked him significantly. Since recovering, he had gained back most of the weight, yet ther were times when his muscles reminded him of their limitations, failing him when he attempted tasks that were once effortless.

You stared at him in disbelief, a thousand thoughts running through your head. When Arthur opened his mouth again, you were afraid that you had taken too long to answer.

“I thought it was too late for me to marry someone. I’m old. And unlovable, mostly”, Arthur chuckled warmly, “If two people ain’t too big of a group for you…” Arthur added mumbling ‘maybe three or four at some point’ before continuing, “I’d want ya to know that I plan to stick with you. Yer still young, so I understand if yer don’t want to-“

“Yes.”

Arthur shut up at looked at you. Was that a yes to “not wanting to marry”? Arthur looked like a kicked puppy for a moment, before you cleared his confusion: “Yes, I want to marry you, you dumbass.”

The ring slipped on seamlessly. The Arthur picked you up, naked as you were and hugged you lovingly. You squealed because of the cold air.  

“Are we telling Hamish?”

Arthur mumbled the response into the crook of your neck which he was peppering with kisses: “If ya want. That enough of a Christmas present for him?”

You hit Arthur’s back: “Hell no! The man lets us live in his home. I was thinking about getting him a new rifle.”

Arthur set you down and you gathered your clothes, putting them on slowly, as Arthur was taking his time admiring you.

“Put some money back”, you grinned mischievously, “It was also meant for buying you a present. But I suppose that being my husband is good enough.”

“Oh you!”, Arthur growled and scooped you up, throwing you over his shoulder. For all the strength he had lost, he was still strong enough to do that. Barefooted, Arthur stamped out of the cabin. “Give me one reason to not throw you into the lake!”, he teased and approached the jetty. It wasn’t frozen yet entirely, but the water was icy cold and black.

“I’m your wife!”

“Not yet you ain’t!”, Arthur made a motion that made you shriek, but he only feinted to throw you in, “besides, that is no valid reason.”

“I’ll kill you, if you do!”, now you tried to break free, but Arthur’s grip was firm.

“Ohh. That’s more like it. Though I think you love me too much for that.”

“Many wives kill their husbands!”, you screamed.

“I could drown ya first, ya know”, Arthur teased and swirled around, so you faced the black water.

“You’ll never find out where I stashed the money and won’t afford a present for Hamish!”, you finally said.

“That’s true”, with that, Arthur let you down. As soon as your bare feet touched the snow, you darted inside, shivering violently in front of the fireplace.

Arthur soon followed, having more of a quieter complexion. He closed the door behind him, and the warm and loving atmosphere of the cabin was restored. In many ways, Arthur saw you as an equal. You were just as good as a shot as he was, just as fast when it came to running or riding. There was no need to escape his old live, because you were an outlaw just like him. You didn’t mind if life meant running away from the law. He didn’t need to tread lightly with you. You could take criticism; a discussion or whatever life threw at you. And yet, he found your movements graceful, gentle. Most of the time, at least. Arthur smiled at the thought. When your opponent was a bigger man and it would come to close ranged fighting, you became sloppy and angry, but with a gun you were the definition of accuracy and grace.

“Hello?”, you looked at Arthur wit tilted head, drawing his attention back from his reverie, “Where have you wandered off to?” His daydreams had lasted so long, he had barely noticed that you had dressed yourself.

“Jus’ dreamin’ about my future wife, ‘s all”, Arthur grinned sheepishly. He extended his arms invitingly, and you moved closer, nestling into his embrace.  

“Don’t start expecting things I’m not capable”, you said.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know?! Maybe I want my husband to be capable of baking proper gingerbread for Christmas and then you come along and-“, Arthur interrupted you by poking you into the side and making you squeal.

“You do it better then!”, he challenged.

“I suppose I will!”, you grinned back, heading for the little stove, “I bet mine are at least two times more…edible than your sorry experiment.”

“What are we betting? A kiss, Mrs. Morgan?”, Arthur said slimily, his arms crossed and watching you. The name made you feel warm and happy. For all the times you’d been mistaken as a Bell, you like that name way more. But for old time’s sake, you turned around and looked at the man you love.

“Your life, Morgan!”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

taglist: @xclovers @photo1030 @cowboydisaster @stilinskiwitch @globetrotter28 @unbotheredbeeeee @eyelovie @ashjbu @lovrgirlsstuff @how-the-heck-would-i-know @j4llyf7sh @urfavjanalein @thatonestrangebird @nirvanaaaonly

[vids-rdr2-artblog]

Undead Nightmare 2 Headcanons

CHARACTERS: John Marston, Arthur Morgan, Sadie Adler, and Charles Smith

Now, I know that the first Undead Nightmare didn’t follow the timeline, but this one sort of does for the second game.

THESE ARE FOR FUN AND MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS!

General Headcanons:

The plague reached Blackwater around the time of the massacre however the gang didn’t realize it right away

People were rising from the dead in the streets as the gang made their escape

Davey Callander was the first zombie encountered in Colter when he passed away/Luckily the cold made it hard for him to move before he could bite anyone

When the gang reached Horseshoe Overlook, they began to see how the infection was spreading through New Hanover

Gang quickly becomes suspicious and paranoid of each other

People outside of the gang were trying to keep civilization together even though the world around them was crumbling apart

At some point, the gang stole a train and tried to use it to keep moving around, but it became too dangerous when supplies were depleted and some areas were just more dangerous to pass through

John Marston:

Recognizes that if the plague had reached the wolves before they mauled him, he would have died in Colter

For a while, he worried that he would still become infected and suffers with nightmares of eating his family alive

Was taken to Sisika because he and the others were caught trying to steal supplies, and mostly escaped thanks to Arthur and Sadie risking bringing the undead on the island to cause a distraction/The outbreak that followed helped mask John’s escape

After a close call of Jack almost being bitten, he becomes very protective over his family

At some point he tried to leave the gang WITH his family but was threatened by Dutch and Micah

Arthur Morgan:

Had to put an infected Boadicea down/He thought she was just sick but realized later that it was the plague

The gang’s brutalist and main protector/He’s often sent out on the supply runs

Is sleep deprived and suffers from constant insomnia from many nights of being asked to watch the camp at night

Was bitten by an undead somewhere in the end of chapter 5 because of the Pinkerton encounter in the Lagras camp

His honor determines whether he comes back as the undead or not/Low honor he gets shot and does not come back/High honor means he dies peacefully but comes back as the undead

Sadie Adler:

Watched her husband get bitten by an infected O’Driscoll that they tried to treat after robbing her and her husband’s house

Wanted to give her husband mercy herself but was denied when the O’Driscolls killed him themselves

Because she hated seeing her own husband turn, she takes bounty missions where she hunts down family members who weren’t able to be given mercy in trade for supplies

She constantly finds Arthur half asleep while on guard duty and takes over/She refuses to rat Arthur out to the gang and after a while convinces Arthur to let her take some of his shifts so he can rest

She refused to let Colm die peacefully so she left him tied to a tree where he was eaten alive by zombies

Charles Smith:

Became the gang’s main tracker and hunter and helped Pearson cook

When he returned, he found a zombie Arthur and had to put him down before burying him (High Honor ending)

Second in command when it comes to guarding the camp at night

He too also tries to take over some of Arthur’s shifts so he can rest longer

He is the one who mostly has had to put the gang down after they reanimated

[zapsoda]

i think supervillain organizations need human resources too: zapsoda states the obvious for a looooong time

i find black hat fascinating because he is truly sadistic in a way many villains are not and it gives him a really bizarre dynamic with his 2.5 employees.

his sadism is something you have to keep in mind when analyzing all other asepcts of his character because it immediately answers most of the questions that arise throughout. for example:

q. why does he torture and threaten his employees?

a. he enjoys it :3

q. why is he so adamantly opposed to replacing them, despite his supposed contempt?

a. either he doesnt actually dislike them that much, or the catharsis and pleasure from tormenting them all the time makes up for it.

and finally, the one i enjoy the most: why is his favorite employee flug?

obviously, his least favorite is 505, because 505 is like. the embodiment of good. the opposite of evil. hes basically a big fluffy hero which is like. exactly what he hates. you might be asking: why does he let flug keep him around then? the answer:

i just have to trust all the bullshit the wiki says at face value since none of its sources are accessible anymore as far as i can tell.

anyways, that leaves us with flug and demencia. and demencia is like ... the obvious choice. i'm not just like biased cause i'm in love with her shes got it all: she's evil (at least more evil than flug), shes strong as fuck, and she worships bh. that's perfect, isn't it? the thing is, he doesn't seem to like her as much. this is the most evil part about him i think but here's why:

dem looooves him and i don't think he really wants to be loved i think he wants to be feared. he doesn't want people to feel happy when he's around, he's evil. theyre like orin scrivello and arthur denton.

in this regard, dem is a little too crazy for him, in the sense that she does not have the self preservation instincts flug has. she knows when to fuck off so bh doesnt rend her to pieces, but she generally doesnt exhibit the same fear or caution that flug does, because she believes fully that she is sooo awesome and black hat is soo perfect and in love with her that nothing bad will happen ever.

this makes her supremely difficult to fuck with in the traditional sense, because if he tries to do it without some sort of disguise or element of surprise, she'll just make big heart eyes lol. black hat doesnt get his desired reaction, and the interaction is no longer enjoyable for him.

obv, bh still has some attachment to her and does still find ways to screw with her, but it is harder and he has to be more creative. i think what he primarily enjoys about her is how evil she is. this might be a bit far fetched, but in the wrestling episode he clearly loved making her beat the shit out of flug. i think maybe he sees a bit of himself in her. but see, even here he is using her to accomplish the larger goal of getting under flugs skin (literally and figuratively).

so ultimately, we are left with flug. he is (also) entirely loyal and obedient to bh, but also he is scared shitless of the guy. i cannot stress enough that flug sees himself very highly, thus, he values self preservation above most other things. the way he sees it, he is so smart and awesome he can't die or feel immense pain, that would really suck! this is perfect, because it makes him so, so easy to fuck with, and black hat takes advantage of this constantly. its basically his favorite hobby.

this dynamic wouldnt work, of course, if flug didn't also have this weird fucking stockholm syndrome or whatever. he does adore bh. the bit in the opening of the pilot where he dreams of getting like. the mildest praise imaginable from black hat. haunts me esp cause it doesnt seem to come up again after that. he obviously wants to be respected/revered/admired for his intelligence and accomplishments, and from someone who he respects as much as bh even the tiniest crumb of validation is enough. because of that, he will do basically fucking anything for bh.

thus, black hat gets the best of both worlds: 505s fear and eternal suffering and demencias evil love and respect.

[verdemoun]

two asks in one here sorry BUT theyre both about john

how does john feel when he sees dutch again, considering how dutch yolo’d himself off a cliff right in front of him and left him standing there to watch him fall? is he angry or relieved or just has nothing left to say?

also how does arthur and the rest of the gang that died in 1899 react to how john has changed? hes now so much more mature, calmer, caring and scarier when he threatens people but when they last knew him it was 1899 angry petty 26 year old john (well at least for sean hosea and lenny who didnt see his chapter 6 development)

john my boy my love

john probably struggles the most with repairing his relationship with dutch out of all the VDLS. he saw the great, evil dutch he would come to be remembered as first-hand when most of the gang only read about it. he experienced dutch shooting at him. he heard dutch, his father figure, the man who saved him from hanging at the age of 12, say he would kill him for sport

there's a line, i think, where it is understandable and even encouraged for children to cut their parents out of their lives. dutch crossed that line so many times he might as well have been playing jump rope with it.

i don't think john would be one to visit dutch, and the first time he saw dutch at one of the gang gatherings, it was little more than a hello. truly, nothing left to say other than 'you are a person and i am being polite even acknowledging your existence'

john already had to reconcile with the fact he had to see dutch die. he had bureau agents, former pinkertons, men he loathed, offering their sympathies because even they knew how difficult it would be for john to be the one who killed dutch van der linde. dutch, who hated him, who acted like john betrayed him and treated him like a traitor. john, who still loved him like a father, who couldn't help but love him even though he knew his life would be all the better if he didn't.

but his life, his son's life, the lives of every single person john ever cared about or loved, were cursed and contaminated by the shadow of dutch van der linde. dutch saving his life at 12 years old was only a guarantee that dutch would be either directly or indirectly responsible for his death, eventually. inevitably.

while john always had and (to his own dismay) always will love dutch as a father, he began to doubt and see through dutch long more most of the gang. in chapter 3 he was already angry and questioning dutch, let alone surviving long enough in canon era to see what dutch became.

sometimes forgiveness is just forgetting what a person meant to you. for john, dutch became another person he shared the strange circumstance of timewarping with, another face, but he would never let himself try to forgive or let dutch be anything more than a passing presence in his life.

john still loves dutch, or the idea of dutch, or the distant memory of a dutch that saved him, raised him, taught him to read, but that dutch is so seperated from the dutch he experienced in 1911, the dutch trying to find his pre-blackwater self when even that was a man hungry for money, power and control, for love to be enough to fix his relationship with modern era dutch

seeing dutch die, dutch killing himself in front of john maybe as an act of sparing john the trauma of killing him himself or a final reminder that dutch was always the one who held all the power in their dynamic including controlling his own death, was when john said goodbye to dutch and what dutch meant to him. seeing him again might as well be seeing a photograph.

dutch was hurt, of course, but he actually reached a level of mental wellness in modern era where he was still happy that even at the cost of his participation in john's modern life, john finding peace and happiness and 'okay' was more important

TO THE SECOND POINT

the gang are almost used to having to get to know people again after timewarp. a charles that is comfortable being silly and goofy and joking around? a sadie who wears the ruthlessness she is capable of as a badge of honor? a strauss with a work ethic who enjoys his job? like they are used to the gang being almost strangers for a bit but that bond is still there.

arthur admits to john that sometimes he doesn't even seem like himself. in a positive way. without saying i'm proud of you but very obviously proud of him for how much more capable he is of being calm, how attentive he is of his wife and daughter and unabashedly in love with abigail and making an effort with jack even though rdr1 epilogue jack is really not wanting it (he does he's just got a lot of damage to work through)

abigail really did look at this angry little emo man, decide he was her ride or die and inspired him to become better

they become closer as brothers in timewarp because those little glimpses of them being able to talk to each other - when they got jack back and john thanked him - those conversations become so much more commonplace because john has that maturity.

also john loves his brother. maybe took losing him to realize how much he looked up to and adored arthur as a sibling but he didn't talk about him all those years because of how much it hurt. he never forgot and he's so relieved he gets to have not only arthur but an aged arthur an arthur who found happiness and peace the same brief way john did at beecher's hope they both got to be their best, happiest versions of themselves and it shows in how much better their relationship is

that being said the second they are just hanging out they do immediately return to monkey brain. sometimes they are these awe-inspiring mature grown men who can talk to each other about things akin to feelings and sit in peace with each other's presence but most of the time if they are hanging out it is absolute joy of getting into stupid shit together, sharing a brain cell and accidentally setting things on fire

[river-of-wine]

I would love to hear all about your Outlaw!Molly AU. 👀

I would love to tell you about it!

Saying up front that this whole thing is very self indulgent, but that’s the point!

Things play out as usual up to the Saint Denis bank robbery. Hosea and Lenny still die, John is still in prison, the guys are still in Guarma, and Molly still leaves camp. She brings anything she owns that is worth money (mostly her clothes and jewellery, since she doesn’t seem to have many possessions) and sells them wherever she can so she can have some money to support herself. Since Agent Milton knows her face (he would have seen her when he showed up at camp in chapter 3), she is quickly taken in by the law when she arrives in Saint Denis and is intensely interrogated. She refuses to tell them what she knows, but it is obvious given her close connection that she knows plenty about Dutch and the gang that she is not telling them. By the time they give up, Molly is completely mentally worn down and physically bruised, and for what? To protect Dutch van der Linde? The man who lured her into this life of crime and violence, who stole her from everything she knew, who used her and discarded her the second she started to irritate him?

Molly doesn’t know what to do with herself. She doesn’t feel safe in Saint Denis around so many lawmen and people who’s motivations she can’t be sure of, but she doesn’t know where else to go. Most of the country is a mystery to her, and she has nothing to defend herself with.

Well, she can change at least one of those things.

Using what she has left of her money, Molly buys herself some supplies. A revolver, a knife, some ammunition and enough food to keep herself alive for however long it will last. At this point, she is under the assumption that Dutch, Arthur and everybody else in Guarma will not return, wether they die or just never find a way back. She doesn’t think she will see him again.

After a LOT of trial and error (and almost all the ammunition she bought) Molly finds herself to be a pretty good shot. That’s not to say she’s a natural at it, she misses her fair share of stationary objects more times than she would care to say when she’s still getting used to things. She’s better with a knife, though, and when she gets over the fear and squeamishness (and the disgust over blood, which almost makes her sick the first time she kills something) she starts to hunt for herself. Eventually, she is doing rather well. She has meat to feed herself, pelts she can sell, and enough skill with weapons to defend herself. She moves daily, walking in whatever direction feels right or leads her away from any sounds that feel threatening. She finds herself back in Rhodes, that horrible town she heard about where Sean had died, and makes herself scarce after she sells some rabbit pelts and uses the money to buy some supplies and a gun belt, plus the hat I drew her with because it wouldn’t be Molly if she wasn’t still prioritising style.

Her routine becomes setting up a small camp wherever she’s ended up and staying there for however long she may, keeping herself occupied with her foraging, writing whatever poetry she can in the notebook she took when the inspiration finds her or general thoughts when the inspiration does not, and upsetting herself by seeing just how different she looks, living rough and sleeping rougher, in the reflection of her pocket mirror, the last thing she has from home.

Eventually though, the little camp Molly has set up for herself gets found. A man tries to rob her, thinking her an easy target. Molly just barely fights him off when she pulls out her revolver before he can grab his, shooting him in the leg, stealing his horse (a REALLY nice horse which she’s happy about) and leaving him there. She rides up near Annesburg, where she sells whatever pelts she had on her that she hadn’t already sold and trying to work out where exactly she is.

It is while she’s there that she sees Arthur returning from the mission that would’ve been That’s Murfree Country, and her certainty of Dutch’s death is thrown out the window. If Arthur made it, surely he must have, and she is hit with a feeling she cannot describe, but she imagines it is what Mrs Adler must feel about the O’Driscoll boys, because all her willpower to stay away from Dutch for the rest of her life is out the window and she is back on her horse.

From a distance, she follows Arthur back to their new camp. She dismounts her horse and hitches her nearby, hiding out in the treeline and observing what remains of the gang like she always had before. Dutch doesn’t leave his tent. If her absence has been noticed, he clearly doesn’t care.

When everybody has gone to sleep, Molly gets back on her horse and rides closer to Dutch’s tent. Somewhere easy for her to run to, which she will need to do soon enough. I won’t type out the whole ordeal and I’m sure you can tell where this is going, but Molly enters Dutch’s tent and - after some well earned taunting and monologuing - stabs him in the throat. With the amount she ends up stabbing him when she flies into the blind rage we all know she feels, she almost decapitates him. If the sounds he made didn’t wake the gang up, her setting fire to his tent does.

She rides away, but not before being seen by people. Most notably Micah, who is ready alongside everyone else still loyal to Dutch (Bill, Javier, Grimshaw) to go after her, and Karen and Mary-Beth, who are ready to do the same, just with a different end goal in mind. I haven’t worked out the details of what happens to the whole gang just yet, but Arthur and Sadie still rescue John from prison and Tilly still gets Jack out of there, just with Abigail alongside her this time.

Karen and Mary-Beth find Molly first. She has dismounted her horse and is in a pretty bad way emotionally, panicking and face drenched in Dutch’s blood. She’s never killed a human before, and she went about it in quite a brutal way. Mary-Beth tries to comfort her to some kind of success, relaxing her until she is stable enough to walk. The three find a place to hide, and Karen has questions for Molly after Mary-Beth falls asleep, because neither of them are able to.

They have a pretty serious talk about the danger Molly has put herself in. Truth be told, it was such a quick decision that Molly hadn’t considered what the rest of the gang would do to her once she killed Dutch. There’s no telling if others will join Micah (who’s motivations are up for debate) in his hunt for her once John is saved. Molly knows how to survive, but she doesn’t know how to live on the run aside from being pulled along wherever the gang goes. The gang itself is no more, leaving Karen and Mary-Beth with nowhere to go and no one to go to, and Molly desperately needs some people to help her out. Thus begins the start of Molly’s gang.

Molly decides once she has gotten over the impact of murdering Dutch that she wants to get back to Ireland. She can’t live like this forever in America and she doesn’t want to be there anymore. Getting back to Dublin becomes her goal. Steal enough money to get out of this country and stay back where she shouldn’t have left. Karen and Mary-Beth quite wisely don’t make the comparison of Dutch and Tahiti, both because Molly will definitely not want to hear that and this idea is actually feasible, given it’s just to support the travel and livelihood of one person. Just a nice note, she wants to become a poet when she moves back.

This is where I’m up to, but I have general ideas for later! Molly eventually gains more members to her gang, prioritising women in similar situations to her. Women that she sees men mistreating (she kills the men more often than not which raises her bounty high enough that she’s very thankful for her very fast horse) or women who are otherwise vulnerable. Maybe she finds another Irish immigrant woman who is in need of help, which would result in a very emotional conversation for both of them. But yeah! That’s what I have so far! Thank you for your interest!

[21witnokidz]

IN THE GHETTO

Chapter 22

Warning: Smut

“I’m ready to get outta this damn snow!” You complained.

“There’s a lot of things I can do dear girl, but changing the weather is not one of them” Dutch explained.

You could hear Abigail begging Arthur to go and look for John.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Micah killed him before he got back here” you half joked.

“You got a problem with me girl?” Micah threatened.

“Yea I do-“

“Well no one gives two shits about you bitchin’ and moanin’ about whatever it is you bitch and moan about behind my back”

“You watch your damn mouth!” Arthur growled.

“Woah there cowpoke. Just because you’re fucking her don’t mean you gotta get aggressive”

“The nerve of all three of you!” Hosea yelled. “One of our members are stuck out there and we need to bring them back. Y/n and Arthur you go with Javier to retrieve John. Micah sit down and leave everyone alone”

“Hey to be fair that bitch came at me first. If she never said anything we wouldn’t have a problem” Micah put his hands up.

You went to lung at him but Arthur held you back and dragged you outside with Javier behind.

“Some morning huh?” He chuckled.

“Exactly! It’s literally 7 in the morning! The day just started and he’s already starting shit”

-

“This way. Last I know, John was headed up the river” Javier lead.

You guys made it up a mountain and started calling for him.

Not long after you found John on a ledge.

“Little John” you greeted him.

“Look can you just make fun of me later so we can get the hell outta here?”

You and Javier helped John onto Arthur’s shoulder and walked to the horses.

From the corner of your eyes you could notice a pack of wolves coming down the mountain.

“I got it” you took out your shotgun and shot the wolves while the boys got John on a horse.

“Y’know John we ought a put a whistle on you for whenever you get lost from the gang” you joke.

“Or when you try to run away again” Arthur includes.

“Y’all will never let me live that down will you?”

“It was a dick move John”

“And I apologized for it. Besides didn’t you say you two would work on each other?” John referred to you and Arthur working on your relationship.

“Just go to sleep Marston”

Blackwater

“Josiah Trelawny” you greeted Trelwany who was laying on his stomach looking at the prison in front of him. A few of us were in blackwater now ready to get Sean back.

“Ike skelding’s boys are moving him to a camp nearby”

You all came up with a plan to just go to the camp and get Sean while Josiah makes a distraction.

“How’s the family Josiah?” Arthur asked.

“Not too bad. What about you? We’re around the same age yet you’re not even married”

“Well I guess there’s a time for everything”

Josiah went down to make his distraction while you, Arthur and Javier went up the mountain taking out the guards.

Finally you got to Sean Maguire. You cut him loose and untied his hands.

“Miss y/n. Still as pretty as a picture”

“Oh don’t let Molly hear you say that”

“But it’s true. Or are you just saying that because Charles is here and you don’t want to make him jealous” Sean was aware of your past relationship because the girls in the gang love to gossip “was it Charles or Arthur? I always get them mixed up”

“Sean there’s nothing that means more to me than this gang. It’s the realest thing to me. I would kill for it and I would happily die for it” Arthur put his hand on the young man’s shoulder “but I would’ve left you here to rot if Charles hadn’t stopped me”

“I don’t believe a word of that”

Then Sean just went on about how Arthur was a good man. Of course Arthur denied it. You hated how Arthur would talk to himself sometimes it really made you upset because of how much he meant to you.

“Alright you all go on back to camp. Me and y/n will catch up” Arthur sent them.

“Come on Arthur what are we doing harboring an O’Driscoll?” You demanded to know why Arthur had bring back an O’Driscoll boy named Kieran Duffy “and to put more salt in the wound, our newest girl hates O’Driscolls”

“Well that’s great maybe you and her can play pin the donkey with him”

“Pin the donkey?”

“Yea. Y’know cause he’s Irish and you can pin him with a knife- oh forget it”

“No Arthur it was just a bad pun. If you can even call it that”

“It wasn’t bad you just need everything to be explained to you”

Back at camp

Sean was finally back and everything was the same again. He was telling some stupid joke that didn’t even make sense but you didn’t care. Sean was naturally funny and that’s why you enjoyed having him around.

Everyone was having a good time and you saw Javier sitting at a table writing something.

“What’s that Javier?”

“Nothing!”

You looked and saw a quick glance of his paper. All the words were written in Spanish but you saw Tilly’s name a few times.

“Are you writing about Tilly”

“Hey” he looked around “let’s just keep this between us ok?”

“Oh my god you’re writing poetry? I never knew you were sweet on her”

“No one can know. It’s already embarrassing enough”

“Let me help you. I’ll go tell her to give you a chance right now”

“No!” He grabbed your arm “you can’t say anything especially to her. Promise me”

“Ok fine” you stuck your pinky out.

“I don’t get it what’s with the pinky?”

“You’re supposed to link yours with mine. To seal a promise”

“Must be an American thing” he shrugged and linked his pinky with yours.

“But I won’t forget about this. We’ll talk later”

You got up to look for Arthur. You haven’t seen him the whole night. You just found him in his cot writing in his journal as usual.

Before the Blackwater incident, Mary-Beth had suggested Arthur try journaling since he didn’t like talking about his problems he could just write them down.

“Arthur” you made your presence known.

“Hey I’m just finishing up” you looked to see him drawing a picture of a wolf. Identical to the one we saw on the mountain.

“I don’t know how you’re so good at this”

“Me neither. But it’s really calming” he closed his book and set it aside.

“You really think we could make it back to blackwater and get that money?”

“Hell no. But lord knows Dutch won’t dare forget about it. I just wish I could’ve saved a little some of it for the gang”

“It’s not just your fault we were all there”

“No I should’ve done something. I don’t know… nowadays I just kinda feel useless. You know how back in the day I used to be this gang’s most useful asset. Now I’m like a firefighter helping people get outta mess”

“It’s not like that. People just trust you is all”

“You even heard Josiah. I ain’t married yet. Do you think.. maybe we’ve been wasting our lives with this?” He said referring to the gang.

“No. I mean we’re all a family and we have each other. You don’t have to marry people to live your life. And that’s coming from a woman”

“There’s just this clock inside me that’s been ticking ever since. Like I need to discover something soon”

You stopped him and kissed him on the lips.

He looked at you in the eyes and you stared back.

He grabbed your jaw and kissed you this time.

“I could feel a clock ticking too. I’m done beating around the bush with you Arthur”

You slammed your lips on his again.

“Let’s go someplace else”

He led you into the forest away from the party.

You walked to a tree and leaned your back against it. Arthur stared at you like you were his meal and walked slowly towards you.

He grabbed your hips and pulled them to his and he began softly kissing your neck.

“I missed this. I missed you so much”

He pulled took off his jacket and laid it on the floor for you to lay on. He climbed on top of you and kissed you once again and grabbed your hand.

“I don’t want you to think about Charles” he whispered from the crook of your neck.

“What?”

“When I’m making love to you. I want you to forget how Charles ever did it”

“Me and Charles never had sex”he lifted his head to look at you “you’re the only man who’s ever touched me Arthur”

This made Arthur incredibly happy. He would literally be kept up at night thinking about the chance that Charles probably had you but he didn’t. “Me and Mary never did it either” he explained.

“I’m so glad”

You kissed him again and he pulled your dress up and you ran your fingers through his hair.

He unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants just a bit to release his already growing member.

He aligned himself with you and you squeezed his hand. He pushed himself in and you both moaned at the same time.

“Oh Arthur I-“

Arthur couldn’t get his own words out neither. It’s been too long without each other.

Your body automatically knew how to respond to his. It’s like everything about him was engraved into your genetic code or something. His smell was everywhere. The noises he made filled your ears. The way he touched you sent shivers down your spine and all over.

He continued thrusting into your hot pussy and he finally was able to construct a conceivable phrase.

“I love you y/n. I really love you”

“I lov- I-“ you couldn’t even get it out before your orgasm came crashing down on you.

Arthur was not far behind.

You two were just laying there catching your breaths. He laid his forehead on yours and closed his eyes with his dick still deep inside of you. Cum spilling out of your pussy you didn’t care.

“Hey when was the last time you came before me?”

Your joke caused y’all to laugh and Arthur pulled you on top of him.

“Why are we such fools?” He whispered.

“We were just young”

“We’re you really in love with me back then?”

You took your head off his chest and looked at him.

“I loved you ever since that day we spent at the camp alone. I never stopped since then”

“I loved you ever since I saw you dance in that bar” you smacked his chest. “What I’m being honest”

“Let’s just stop fooling around and making ourselves miserable”

Arthur kissed your forehead again and began to sit up.

“I really don’t want the rest teasing us when we get back. Let’s hurry now”

[flw3rrr]

A Quick escape

paring: Dutch van der Linde x fem!reader

warnings: Angst, Slight swearing. (Let me know if anything else is missing.)

A/n: this is my like first ever fully post with a story. So I apologize if this isn’t well🫶

Word count: 1,022

Ever since the Saint Denis robbery, everybody in the gang has been on edge. Nobody knows what will happen next, or when something will happen. We have found a new camp, called Beaver Hollow. It’s not much, but you would say it’s somewhat hidden from the world. Though with people being off and on edge, you would say Dutch had changed the most. Micah has always been the same bitchy self.

since he returned from guarma he has been not himself. Becoming full of more broken and dishonest promises. and more lies than ever. Starting at never leave a man behind, to leaving a member behind.

With Dutch‘s erratic behavior, he’s has neither looked nor spoken a word to you. With this result, you had to sleep with the other women of camp. He had completely kicked you out of his tent, without a word. This obviously hurt you, but you never spoken a word about it to anyone.

As you began to repairing the holes in the clothing that clearly was from gunshots, you’ve realized that people began to slowly leave camp, and though it was sad to see friends who had become like family members leaving, But you knew they had a point. They all wanted their own lives now, without anymore bloodshed, and you understood them.

You couldn’t lie, you wanted that for yourself. However, you wanted Dutch in this new life for yourself. But, the possibility’s on that dream where slim. “(Y/N)? Are you alright?” You snapped out of your thoughts and saw Tilly was talking to you. “Yes, I’m fine. Just… thinking on the events happening lately.” You began, your words weren’t full of cheer, and full of hope like usual. No, they were doubtful.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” Tilly said as she began to wash a peace of clothing. “Things are getting tough and scary now a days.” You nodded in agreement, no further words spoken as you resumed back to your Chores, knowing Ms. Grimshaw would start to yell for the whole camp to hear.

As you completed all the chores, more thoughts had crowded your mind. You couldn’t bare the sight of others dying, or being left behind. So once you finished everything you headed to your spot where you currently slept. Collecting your things together, and putting them in a bag securing the items. “Miss.” You heard a voice behind you. Taking a look behind you, you’ve noticed it was Arthur. Oh, poor Arthur. He’s gotten more pale and bloodshot eyes than ever.

“Arthur” you replied looking at him with sadden eyes. You knew something was wrong with him, and you felt for him.

“You plannin’ on leaving also?” He questioned. Looking like he needed rest but refusing. “Yes, I have too.” You began as you went back to packing your belongings. “I cannot see the rest die here, while I sit and watch and-“ “And watch Dutch go more crazy than he already is?” He finished your sentence. The mention of his name stopped you in your tracks. Knowing you haven’t even been near him in well… weeks. You turned around to face him with tears threatening to fall down.

“Yes… something is terribly wrong with him, and Micah is making it worse.” You spoke. “That is why I cannot bare to see others die.” picking up the luggage you finished packing. “Then…” he stated as he began to rummage for something. “Take this…. It’s not much but it’ll help you stay on your feet for while.” he said handing you the money, looking at you pleading for you to take the money. At first you hesitated, But took it because desperately you knew you would need it. “Thank you Arthur, Really.” you Said as you walked to a random horse.

“No need for thanks, just make sure you keep yourself safe.” As you came to a stop, you turned and hugged him. “I’ll miss you, really.” Tears now falling down your face, blurring your vision. “Me too… now get going before the rest notice.” He said helping you onto your horse.

Tears continued to flow down, but as you turned on your horse and looked back, you spotted Dutch standing near his tent. He clearly wasn’t happy to see you leave, possibly now thinking you of a traitor. But you just gave him a cold stare before riding off on your horse, ready to start your own life and leave all this behind.

As you began to ride your horse to the nearest train station, you instantly knew you were free. Free from the harm that was to come to the gang.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Until then it’s when you heard the gang fell apart. Attacked by the pinkertons, and chased away. Unfortunately for your ears you even found out Arthur passed. You felt sorrow for him and will always be greatly appreciative for the help he gave you.

nonetheless life for you was good. Living in a house not far from Saint Denis, a quiet town with nice people around. You lived the calm respectable life you wanted. You couldn’t regret the choice you made, Yet you did think about Dutch time to time. It hurt to leave him, but you knew he was loosing his mind everyday. It was dangerous to everybody around him, even dangerous to himself.

But that was over now. You needn’t to worry on the things that used to happen to the gang. You had a chance now at life, a chance to perhaps meet someone and have a family. Nonetheless, that was too early for the moment. You where still taking in on having your own house to yourself, able to do anything you wanted. The job wasn’t much, all you did was clean up fancy houses and get paid a fair amount. But it was able to keep you on your feet to live around.

It was the best choice made and never regretted it.

[eolewyn1010]

Having done their job, Mina and van Hellstoker make their way down the mountains, the latter looking for a hide-out in case of sudden Dracula attack. Having found a wind-safe spot, he snuggles Mina up there in a bundle of blankets and furs and tries to get her to eat, but it makes Mina nauseous, so nope. At least they're not left to fret; van Hellstoker gets out his binoculars and they manage to see a little bit in between the snow gusts. Nearing from the river, Dracula in his box is escorted by his very own loyalists. Stoker has Mina charmingly call them "peasants or gypsies of some kind". *sigh* Onward. Van Hellstoker traps / secures Mina in a Communion wafer circle and points out the dude squad who are getting ready to chop up some Dracula. They're closing in on Dracula's posse, the sun's setting, the snow is going freaky, and there are wolves abound. And then Dracula's men find themselves between a rock, namely Mina's and van Hellstoker's safe place, and a hard place, namely the dude squad with drawn guns. So it's on.

Dracula's posse surrounds their master's coffin and tries to win time till nightfall, but, uh... instead of the dude squad delivering an amazing battle, Jonathan just... awes them into cowering submission with his sheer determination. Stoker, what? Only when he tosses Dracula's box off the cart and into the snow, they attack. Quincey takes a bad cut, but keeps going until Jack and Arthur make Dracula's posse yield via threatening them with their guns. Jonathan and Quincey pull off the lid of Dracula's box and, at the very moment the sun sinks behind the mountains and Dracula awakes, chop off his head and sink a blade into his heart. And dude goes out like a punk, crumbling to dust. Urgh, and because Stoker is a religious weirdo (or a colossal wuss), he has to drive home that our heroes did Dracula a favor and this was really a moment of absolute salvation for him, as he dies with a look of peace on his face. I imagine that's hard to do when writhing in pain and suffocating on your own blood, but suit yourself. Dracula's posse including wolves just skedaddles - whatever; no point in being loyal to a box of dirt.

Mina is immediately freed from the Communion wafers holding her at bay and rushes to the side of a dying Quincey. He gets a real Boromir farewell, surrounded by his weeping comrades. And he thinks it's totally worth it, seeing as Mina has lost the stigma on her forehead and is free to live and die a human. Which, I'm admittedly very over the stuff about the purity of Mina and her perfect forehead and how Stoker has to make a religious point of how she is "cleansed", but. The dying scene is genuinely sad. Farewell, dude. Tumblr shall remember you as the gentleman cowboy.

See y'all in seven years for the epilogue.

[crazedhatesoul]

(Freddy Carter) [The Ashamed] Please welcome [Arthur “Arty” Drake (He/They)] to Huntsville, WV. They are a [33]-year-old [Visitor] who lives in [Town]. You may see them around working as a [Stock Worker @ 7/11].

FULL NAME: Arthur “Arty” Drake FACECLAIM: Freddy Carter HEIGHT: 6’0 AGE: 33 DOB: January 11th OCCUPATION: Stock Worker @ 7/11 ROLE: Gather (not by choice) IDENTITY: He/They ORIENTATION: homosexual RELATIONSHIP STATUS: taken

Biography

tw for homophobia and amputation

Arthur always preferred to be called arty when it came to friends because family would always use his full name in situations where he was in trouble, which to them was apparently all the time. He grew up in chicago and knew pretty early on in his life that he was attracted to men and seemingly only really liked women as friends more than anything romantically but arty knew he couldn’t tell his parents that because they were strict christian parents. That didn’t stop him from secret relationships, always lying to his parents saying they're ‘just friends’ and things of that nature.

That was until he met wolf while they were in middle school, the what should’ve been awkward eye contact for two dumb kids felt like stars aligning instead, the two of them hit it off almost immediately but because of artys parents and wolfs dad the relationship they both wanted remained unlabeled and almost strictly to school, except for the few occasions that friends would help them go on dates when high school came around, saying they’d vouch that they were with them rather than each other and it was working out. Arty wanted to keep labels off the table not really ever calling wolf his boyfriend despite him being just that but it was how they were, it was easier since arty was afraid of his parents finding out.

But eventually that fear became a reality right as arty turned 18, his parents had found out about wolf and that he was more than a friend to him and threatened to send him off to private school to finish off high school there but arty refused, gave them the finger basically and signed up for the military to be shipped far away from them. They hadn’t realized him leaving would cause wolf to leave too so their relationship unfortunately had to come to a screeching end since there was no way to contact him anymore.

During basic training was where he met jamie, and how he learned about huntsville after having conversations with him about where they grew up and other things of course. Arty looked at jamie as a friend so it was a little sad for them to have to go separate ways since his skill set was vastly different then jamies but they’d still run into each other on occasional missions where the other was needed and caught up as best as they could until jamie stopped coming around to sniper missions anymore. Someone having to tell him there was an accident and artys letters never being returned after trying to ask if he was okay only called for more concern. 

It was a little over a year and a half ago now that artys accident had occurred, his unit being ambushed while driving and made it to where arty’s leg was pinned under the vehicle and the choice was either amputate or die. As much as he wanted to give up in that moment he told them to do it and the next thing he knew he was waking up in the hospital, looking down to see his left leg below the knee was no longer there but hey at least they were alive. They stayed at the hospital for almost two months while he recovered and eventually got fitted for a prosthetic to make it easier to walk without the use of crutches. 

They had to relearn how to walk which was weird when that’s the only thing you’ve always known how to do and suddenly it was taken away from you but slowly it went from using crutches with it, to a cane, to sometimes not having to use either at all. He brought both with him to huntsville though, not knowing that wolf was also there but also not knowing the secrets it held and why it was the reason he never heard back from jamie. They’d originally come to see if jamie was alive, besides there was nowhere else for him to go since his parents had disowned him the moment he left at eighteen. 

[raisedbyheathens]

Mental health type stuff under the cut

One of the things my daily cocktail of pills and potions do is help quell my urge to unalive myself. I've long had a very Nietzschean relationship with suicide; The thought of suicide is a great consolation by means of it one gets through many a dark night. 

One thing I have noticed recently is while I consume a LOT of media; the only characters that I generally find myself having the deep, 'write super soft smut fanfic' brain rot for are ones that are either overtly or indirectly suicidal.

Jon Sims by about S3 has 100% accepted that he will die, and it will be his fault and his doing. Even if someone or something else makes the killing blow, he's come to some sort of fragile peace with the fact that it was his own addictive personality that lead him there. He's the friend you call the police to wellness check on if you haven't heard from them in a week

Arthur Lester threatens suicide so often, it's become almost a joke. But a joke that isn't really all that funny anymore? He's the friend that posts 'kms' memes so often on the Discord you are honestly starting to worry now. And he probably would never actually do it, but when his recklessness gets him killed, you'll be left wondering if that's what he had meant to happen all along

Warren Godby, in any other context would be 5150'd so quickly and so often being in hospital would be second nature. He'd have an entire collection of grippy socks, and a special wardrobe of no string, no metal hoodies and sweats he kept specifically so he didn't get issued new ones every time. You're almost relieved when he threatens to jump off a bridge, because you know when he actually does decide- he won't be telling you about it.

Hell, even Runaan the noble elf assassin accepted his likely death at the hands of an enemy combatant well before the show's timeline starts. And even having a loving husband and duty to care for the ward in his custody, he never waivers from that at all. You can talk about honor and duty and all of that, but HIS honor and duty hinge entirely on his willingness to obliterate himself.

Anyway; when I write them I always make them more normal, more stable and more healthy than I will probably ever be. They are more loving, less touch averse and more stable than I will ever hope to be.

I wonder if this is therapy; or just maladaptive daydreaming on my part.

Anyway; just a weird musing I had and you know; go read my super soft smut.

[messers-moony]

Secrets | R.L

Paring: Remus Lupin X Wife!Reader

Summary: Y/n withholds her past from the Order of the Phoenix but it all comes loose after one eavesdropped conversation with Sirius.

Standing in the kitchen of Grimmauld Twelve after cleaning up dinner was always a fun experience. The Aurors finally allowed themselves to relax, even if it was just for a moment. Everyone could feel the amount of ease in the room, including the children. Harry Potter always remained grateful for these moments to relax. But he was never far from the woman who raised him, Y/n Lupin.

Remus was having an animated conversation with Sirius, Nymphadora, and Mad-Eye. Meanwhile, Molly, Arthur, Y/n, and the kids all spoke together, just joking around. Y/n couldn’t believe that Harry was fifteen. It felt like yesterday when he had gotten spit up all over her shirt while she tried to feed him. It was astonishing to watch Harry grow into the man Lily and James always wanted.

“ Professor Lupin! “ The Weasley twins called in symphony making both Lupins turn their way, “ The female Professor Lupin. “ Fred specified, and Remus chuckled.

The twins pulled her away into a secluded corner, “ Did you get them? “ George queried, and Y/n scoffed, “ Of course, I did. What do you take me for? A liar? “

“ Absolutely not! “ Fred replied, “ They’re all in your room. Make good work of those fireworks. “ Y/n whispered, and both boys were jumping with joy.

They bowed, “ Only for you, Professor. “

Both boys ran off to presumably go and check their new items. Y/n chuckled at their antics when arms wrapped around her waist. A chin was rested on her right shoulder, and the scratch of scruff tickled her jaw. Caramel-brown hair fading and flecked with grey obscured part of her vision. Two hands were rested on her waist—the left hand adoring a very familiar ring.

“ What have you given those mischievous boys? “ Remus asked, “ Nothing. I’m not quite sure what you’re on about? “ Y/n answered, turning to face her husband.

His eyebrow quirked, “ Okay, I made a trip to a particular store. I got them some fireworks. “ Y/n informed, “ Fireworks? “ Remus questioned.

“ They’re magical fireworks. “ Y/n stated, “ The boys like to experiment, so I let them have their fun. “

“ And that’s why you refuse to give them detention. “ Remus rolled his eyes, “ I do give them detention! “ Y/n exclaimed, pouting slightly.

“ I lecture them about all the things they did wrong. “ Y/n added before Remus could speak, “ And then I tell them how to do it better. “ She mumbled.

Her husband laughed, “ Oh, there's the marauder in you, my dear. “

There was a prominent silence between them before Remus spoke up again, “ Have you told Harry about your former last name? “

“ No, I haven’t. “ Y/n swallowed, “ He doesn’t need to know. “

“ I think he’d like to know. “ Remus replied as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, “ I think he’d like to hear all the stories about your twin brother. “

She shook her head, “ Sirius can tell him. “

“ Sirius can’t tell him everything, love. “ Remus informed sweetly, “ Only you knew James Potter since he was born. “

“ I know, I just- it’s hard. “ Y/n bit her lower lip, “ I know, darling. “ Remus responded as he pulled her lower lip from her teeth with his thumb, gently.

They stared at each other for a moment before someone interrupted, “ Y/n, I think you should talk to Sirius. “ Molly informed, and she furrowed her eyebrows, “ He showed Harry the Black Family tree. “

Molly left, and Y/n kissed her husband on the cheek, “ Talk about this later. “ Y/n whispered, leaving him.

She walked around the house. Sirius was standing in the doorway, about to close the black wooden door. Y/n only stood a couple of feet away, but he was hesitant. He didn’t want to shut the door just yet. So much history laid on the wallpaper of the room. So many awful memories. Y/n laid a hand on his shoulder gently.

“ Come on. “ Y/n beckoned as she pulled him into the room, and he shut the door behind them, “ Colloportus. “ She muttered, locking the door.

Sirius stood in front of Regulus’s name, “ Go on, speak. “ Y/n said, and Sirius sighed.

“ It was hard. Losing him, I mean. Even though we didn’t have the greatest relationship, it still felt like I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected him. He was my little brother, for Merlin’s sake. “ Sirius ranted, “ Maybe if I stayed. Maybe if I took him with me that night, this would’ve never happened.

“ Losing a brother is hard. “ Y/n began, “ It’s a pain I wouldn’t wish upon anyone, but people die. People come and go. Truth be told, there isn’t much you can do about it. “

“ My brother wouldn’t have wanted me to live my life suffering. That’s why I married Remus even if he wasn’t by my side. Even if he wasn’t the one walking me down the aisle like he promised. “ Y/n continued, and tears streamed down Sirius’ face, “ Harry still doesn’t know. “

Sirius turned faster than a threatened spider, “ What? Haven’t you told him? “

“ No. He doesn’t know. I’m Y/n Lupin to him and everyone else aside from the adults. “ She shook her head, “ To be fair, it feels nice. “

“ Call me daft, but it feels nice not to be Pity Potter anymore. It feels nice to be Professor Lupin. “ Y/n shrugged, “ You raised him, and you lied to him. “ Sirius retorted.

“ I’m not lying to him; I’m just not telling him the entire truth. “ Y/n corrected, and Sirius turned back to the family tree, “ You were never Pity Potter. “ Sirius muttered.

Y/n chuckled, “ Everyone pitied me after they died. Poor Y/n Potter. She lost her parents at seventeen, lost her brother at twenty-one, became an unexpected parent at twenty-one with her brother's son. People didn’t have to say ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ for me to see the pity in their eyes. “

“ When Regulus died, nobody even said I’m sorry. “ Sirius whispered, “ Nobody knew Regulus like you did. “ Y/n replied.

“ Regulus wasn’t meant to die. He shouldn’t have died. But he did, Sirius. “ Y/n stated, and Sirius turned to her with tear-filled eyes, “ And if your brother was anything like mine, he wouldn’t want you to sulk your entire life. He wouldn’t want you to ask yourself ‘what if’; he’d want you to live your life. “

She took steps in front of the crying man, her hands placed on his shoulders, “ Regulus Black and James Potter didn’t die because they wanted us to suffer. They died because they wanted us to live. “

“ So please. Live for them. Don’t let their death be in vain. “ Y/n said, taking Sirius in for a hug which he returned gratefully, “ Harry loves you. He likes having his godfather in his life. Live for Harry. “

Sirius nodded, and they pulled apart, “ Remus got really lucky. “

Y/n laughed, “ James used to say the same thing. “

When they left the room, it felt like time stopped. Everyone stared at them. Sirius and Y/n were given glares aside from the adults. The children looked betrayed. Harry looked almost in tears. The Weasley twins looked guilty. It seemed to freeze, and Remus looked stressed. Molly and Arthur looked disappointed in their children. Mad-Eye looked unimpressed. Nymphadora looked intrigued. Remus and Y/n exchanged looks, his saying everything– he found out.

Y/n coughed, “ Why- Why is everyone staring? “

“ You lied! “ Harry’s voice sounded heartbroken, betrayed, “ I never lied to you, Harry. I just- you never asked, and there was never a suitable time. “ Y/n tried to explain.

The extendable ear in Fred’s hand told her everything, and she took a breath, “ Harry, can we talk about this in private, please? “

Remus walked forward and took Harry from the shoulders, guiding him to their shared bedroom; once Harry was out of earshot, the Weasley twins stared at their Professor, “ I’m- I’m so sorry, Professor. We didn't- “

“ I’m not mad at you. “ Y/n interrupt, “ I’m not mad at any of you. To clear the rumors, yes, James Potter was my twin brother- “

Before Y/n could continue, Sirius interjected, “ And Y/n Lupin is one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. “

“ She has suffered a more remarkable feat than any other witch I know. Y/n was the one who found Marlene McKinnon’s family dead. She watched her best friend bleed out right in front of her eyes. “ Sirius continued, and Y/n swallowed, looking at the ground, “ She watched Frank, and Alice Longbottom get tortured to insanity. “

“ And finally Y/n suffered losing her other half, James Potter and her sister in law, Lily Evans or Lily Potter. “ Sirius put two hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her, “ So before you glare at her, understand what she’s been through. Understand that she’s been tortured, hurt, and killed in more ways than one. “

Sirius still wasn’t finished, “ Her husband is a werewolf. Her husband has hurt her before, and she bears the scars. Her brother was killed. Her brother by choice- “ Sirius chuckled before he continued, “ Was sent to Azkaban for twelve years, and someone she trusted betrayed us all. “

“ Y/n Euphemia Potter-Lupin has endured more pain than everyone in this room combined. But Y/n Euphemia Potter-Lupin is always the one holding us together, the glue to this horrid new world we live in. So please, before you glare. “ Sirius repeated, “ Understand that she’s been tortured, hurt, and killed in more ways than one. “

Hesitantly, Y/n raised her head to see everyone almost in tears. The children weren’t meant to know; they weren’t meant to hear all the suffering she’s endured. It wasn’t their time yet. But as she looked up, she saw Harry and Remus. They hadn’t entirely made it to the bedroom before Sirius began talking. Tears trailed down her husband's cheek, remembering that faithful night he had broken his vows and attacked her. She didn’t blame him.

Hermione was fully sobbing. The Weasley boys had light tears falling down their cheeks. Molly cried in Arthur’s arms while he tried withholding his tears. Nymphadora and Mad-Eye looked astonished. Ron was brought into a hug by Hermione but remained shocked. Y/n didn’t quite know what to do from here. They had just heard her entire life story.

“ I’m sorry you all had to hear that. “ Y/n chuckled, “ I didn’t know Sirius was going to give you a biography on how the first wizarding war went for me. “

She swallowed, “ I’m sorry for keeping this secret from you guys. And Harry, because I know you’re only a floor above me right now in the comfort of Remus’ arms. You need to know that I love you from the bottom of my heart. I just- I just didn’t want you to find out and get too excited. “

“ But I’m your biological Aunt. I fought Dumbledore tooth and nail to take care of you. I remember sobbing and wailing in Remus’ arms because you were right there, right in front of my face, yet I couldn’t have you. “ Y/n explained, “ Vernon and Petunia are awful people. You deserved love, and you wouldn’t have gotten it there. You would’ve been an outsider your entire life. “

Y/n was sobbing as Sirius rubbed her back, her words choked up, “ B- But, I love you, Harry James Potter. “

Harry left Remus’s arms and ran down the flight of stairs. His arms took around his Aunt. The fifteen-year-old held onto his aunt closer than he could ever imagine. Remus walked down the steps slowly to take his place beside Sirius. Harry pulled away slightly, and Y/n wiped her face. Harry’s eyes had that glint of mischief James always had, and it made her want to sob all over again, but Harry spoke before she could.

“ What was your marauder name? “

[cielrouge]

YA SFF Books by Black Authors 

A Song Below Water by Bethany C. Morrow: About the strength of black sisterhood set in Portland, OR, best friends Tavi and Effie discover their true supernatural identity when Effie starts being haunted by demons from her past, and Tavia accidentally lets out her magical siren voice during a police stop.

A Chorus Rises (A Song Below Water #2) by Bethany C. Morrow: Teen influencer Naema Bradshaw is an Eloko, a person who’s gifted with a song that woos anyone who hears it. Everyone loves her — well, until she's cast as the awful person who exposed Tavia’s secret siren powers. When a new, flourishing segment of Naema’s online supporters start targeting black girls, however, Naema must discover the true purpose of her magical voice.

A Song of Wraiths and Ruin by Roseanne A. Brown: Inspired by West African folklore in which a grieving crown princess, Karina, and a desperate refugee, Malik, find themselves on a collision course to murder each other, despite their growing attraction.

Akata Witch by Nnedi Okorafor: Sunny Nwazue, an American-born albino child of Nigerian parents, moves with her family back to Nigeria, where she learns that she has latent magical powers which she and three similarly gifted friends use to catch a serial killer.

Akata Warrior (Akata Witch #2) by Nnedi Okorafor: Now stronger, feistier, and a bit older, Sunny Nwazue, along with her friends from the the Leopard Society, travel through worlds, both visible and invisible, to the mysterious town of Osisi, where they fight in a climactic battle to save humanity.

Bad Witch Burning by Jessica Lewis: For fans of Us and The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina comes a witchy story full of black girl magic as one girl’s dark ability to summon the dead offers her a chance at a new life, while revealing to her an even darker future.

Beasts Made of Night by Tochi Onyebuchi: After he eats the sin of a royal, Taj, a talented aki, or sin-eater who consumes the guilt of others whose transgressions are exorcised from them by powerful but corrupt Mages, is drawn into a plot to destroy the city, and he must fight to save the princess he loves and his own life.

Beasts of Prey by Ayana Gray: Two Black teenagers, talented Beastkeeper Koffi and warrior-in-training Ekon, must trek into a magical jungle to take down an ancient creature menacing the city of Lkossa, before they become the hunted.

The Belles by Dhonielle Clayton: In the opulent world of Orléans, where Beauty is a commodity only a few control, Belle Camellia Beauregard will learn the dark secrets behind her powers, and rise up to change the world. 

A Blade So Black by L.L. McKinney: A whimsical and butt-kicking Alice in Wonderland retelling featuring a black teen heroine who battles Nightmares in the dark and terrifying dream realm known as Wonderland. 

Bleeding Violet by Dia Reeves: 16-year-old Hanna reunites with her estranged mother in an East Texas town that is haunted with doors to dimensions of the dead and protected by demon hunters called Mortmaine.

Blood Like Magic by Liselle Sambury: Set in near-future Toronto in which, after failing to come into her powers, 16-year-old Black witch Voya Thomas must choose between losing her family’s magic forever or murdering her first love.

The Bones of Ruin by Sarah Raughley: Set in Victorian England, African tightrope walker Iris cannot die; but soon gets drafted in the fight-to-the-death tournament of freaks where she learns the terrible truth of who and what she really is.

The Cost of Knowing by Brittney Morris: A gripping, evocative novel about Black teen Alex Rufus, who has the power to see into the future, and whose life turns upside down when he foresees his younger brother’s imminent death.

Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi: 17-year-old Zélie and companions journey to a mythic island seeking a chance to bring back magic to the land of Orïsha, in a fantasy world infused with the textures of West Africa.

Children of Virtue and Vengeance (Legacy of Orïsha #2) by Tomi Adeyemi: After battling the impossible, Zélie and Amari have finally succeeded in bringing magic back to the land of Orïsha. But with civil war looming on the horizon, Zélie finds herself at a breaking point: she must discover a way to bring the kingdom together or watch as Orïsha tears itself apart.

Cinderella Is Dead by Kalynn Bayron: 16-year-old Sophia would much rather marry Erin, her childhood best friend, than parade in front of suitors. At the ball, Sophia flees, hiding in Cinderella’s mausoleum. There, she meets Constance, the last known descendant of Cinderella and her step sisters. Together they vow to bring down the king once and for all.

The Cost of Knowing by Brittney Morris: A gripping, evocative novel about Black teen Alex Rufus, who has the power to see into the future, and whose life turns upside down when he foresees his younger brother’s imminent death.

Crown of Thunder (Beasts Made of Night #2) by Tochi Onyebuchi: Taj has escaped Kos, but Queen Karima will go to any means necessary--including using the most deadly magic--to track him down. 

A Crown So Cursed (Nightmare Verse #3) by L.L. McKinney: Alice is ready to jump into battle when she learns that someone is building an army of Nightmares to attack the mortal world, before she learns of a personal connection to Wonderland.

Daughters of Jubilation by Kara Lee Corthron: In Jim Crow South, black teen Evalene Deschamps finds her place among a family of women gifted with magical abilities, known as jubilation - a gift passed down from generations of black women since the time of slavery.

Dread Nation by Justina Ireland: The Civil War is over, but mostly because the dead rose at Gettysburg—and then started rising everywhere else. Fighting the undead is a breeze for Jane McKenne, an Attendant, trained in both weaponry and etiquette to protect the well-to-do. But the fight for freedom? That’s a different story.

Deathless Divide (Dread Nation #2) by Justina Ireland: After the fall of Summerland, Jane McKeene hoped her life would get simpler. But nothing is easy when you’re a girl trained in putting down the restless dead, and a devastating loss on the road to Nicodermus has Jane questioning everything she thought she knew about surviving in 1880’s America.

A Dream So Dark (Nightmare Verse #2) by L.L. McKinney: Still reeling from her recent battle (and grounded until she graduates) Alice must cross the Veil to rescue her friends and stop the Black Knight once and for all in Wonderland.

Early Departures by Justin A. Reynolds: Jamal’s best friend Q is brought back to life after a freak accident … but they only have a short time together before he will die again.  How can Jamal fix his friendship without the truth?

Fate of Flames by Sarah Raughley:  Before they can save the world from the monstrous phantoms, four girls who have the power to control the classical elements: earth, air, fire, and water must first try to figure out how to work together. 

For All Time by Shanna Miles: Tamar and Fayard, two Black teens, are fated to repeat their love story across hundreds of lifetimes, from 14th-century Mali to the distant future, as they struggle to break the cycle.

The Gilded Ones by Namina Forna: Inspired by the culture of West Africa, a feminist fantasy debut traces the experiences of 16-year-old Deka, who is invited to leave her discriminatory village to join the emperor’s army of near-immortal women warriors.

The Good Luck Girls by Charlotte Nicole Davis: The country of Arketta calls them Good Luck Girls--they know their luck is anything but. Sold to a "welcome house" as children and branded with cursed markings. When Clementine accidentally kills a man, the girls risk a dangerous escape to find freedom, justice, and revenge.

Kingdom of Souls by Rena Barron: Set in a West African-inspired fantasy kingdom, Arrah comes from a long line of powerful witchdoctors, yet fails at magic. When Arrah trade years off her life for magic to stop the Demon King from destroying the world—that is if it doesn’t kill her first.

Legacy of Light (The Effgies #3) by Sarah Raughley: After Saul’s strike on Oslo—one seemingly led by Maia herself—the Effigies’ reputation is in shambles. Belle has gone rogue, Chae Rin and Lake have disappeared, and the Sect is being dismantled and replaced by a terrifying new world order helmed by Blackwell. If the Effigies can’t put the pieces together soon, there may not be much left of the world they’ve fought so desperately to save.

Legendborn by Tracy Deonn: In this King Arthur retelling, Black teen Bree Matthews infiltrates a secret society of powerful magic wielders to find out the truth behind her mother’s untimely death.

Mem by Bethany C. Morrow: In alternate reality Montreal (1925), a young woman’s personality is the result of a startling experimental procedure, leaving her to struggle with the question of who she really is.

Miles Morales, Spider-Man by Jason Reynolds: But Miles Morales accidentally discovers a villainous teacher's plan to turn good kids bad, he will need to come to terms with his own destiny as the new Spider-man. 

Oh My Gods by Alexandra Sheppard: Half-mortal teenager Helen Thomas goes to live with her father—who is Zeus, masquerading as a university professor—and must do her best to keep the family secret intact.

The Opposite of Always by Justin A. Reynolds: After falling for Kate, her unexpected death sends Jack back in time to the moment they first met, but he soon learns that his actions have consequences when someone else close to him dies.

Orleans by Sherri L. Smith: Set in a futuristic, hostile Orleans landscape, Fen de la Guerre must deliver her tribe leader's baby over the Wall into the Outer States before her blood becomes tainted with Delta Fever. 

Nubia: Real One by L.L. McKinney & Robyn Smith: When Nubia’s best friend, Quisha, is threatened by a boy who thinks he owns the town, Nubia will risk it all—her safety, her home, and her crush on that cute kid in English class—to become the hero society tells her she isn’t.

A Phoenix First Must Burn: 16 Stories of Black Girl Magic, Resistance, and Hope edited by Patrice Caldwell: Filled with stories of love and betrayal, strength and resistance, this collection contains an array of complex and true-to-life characters in which you cannot help but see yourself reflected. Witches and scientists, sisters and lovers, priestesses and rebels.

This Poison Heart by Kalynn Bayron: In this contemporary fantasy inspired by The Secret Garden, Black teen Briseis has a gift: she can grow plants with a single touch. Up against a centuries-old curse and the deadliest plant on earth, Bri must harness her gift to protect herself and her family, when a nefarious group comes after her in search of a rare and dangerous immortality elixir.

A Psalm of Storm and Silence (A Song of Wraiths and Ruin #2) by Roseanne A. Brown: As the fabric holding Sonande together begins to tear, Malik and Karina once again find themselves torn between their duties and their desires.

A Queen of Gilded Horns (A River of Royal Blood #2) by Amanda Joy: After learning the truth of her heritage, Eva is on the run with her sister Isa as her captive, but with the Queendom of Myre on the brink of revolution, Eva and Isa must make peace with each other to save their kingdom.

Raybearer by Jordan Ifueko: In a West African-inspired empire, Tarisai is raised by The Lady and sent to kill the Crown Prince once she gains his trust. Tarisai won’t stand by and become someone’s pawn—but is she strong enough to choose a different path for herself?

Redemptor (Raybearer #2) by Jordan Ifueko: For the first time, an Empress Redemptor sits on Aritsar's throne. To appease the sinister spirits of the dead, Tarisai must now anoint a council of her own, coming into her full power as a Raybearer.

The Ravens by Danielle Page & Kass Morgan: The sisters of Kappu Rho Nu share a secret: they’re a coven of witches. For Vivi Deveraux, being one of Kappa Rho Nu’s Ravens means getting a chance to redefine herself. For Scarlett Winters, a bonafide Raven and daughter of a legacy Raven. When Vivi and Scarlett are paired as big and little for initiation, they find themselves sinking into the sinister world of blood oaths and betrayals.

Rebel Sisters (War Girls #2) by Tochi Onyebuchi: Though they are working toward common goals of helping those who suffered, Ify and Uzo are worlds apart. But when a mysterious virus breaks out among the children in the Space Colonies, their paths collide.

Reaper of Souls (Kingdom of Souls #2) by Rena Barron: After so many years yearning for the gift of magic, Arrah has the one thing she’s always wanted—at a terrible price. But the Demon King’s shadow looms closer than she thinks. And as Arrah struggles to unravel her connection to him, defeating him begins to seem more and more impossible.

A River of Royal Blood by Amanda Joy: A North African-inspired feminist fantasy in which two sisters, Eva and Isa must compete in a magical duel to the death for the right to inherit the queendom of Myre.  

Slice of Cherry by Dia Reeves: In Portero, Texas, teens Kit and Fancy Cordelle, daughters of the infamous Bonesaw Killer, bring two boys with similar tendencies to a world of endless possibilities they have discovered behind a mysterious door.

Siege of Shadows (The Effigies #2) by Sarah Raughley:  After Saul reappears with an army of soldiers with Effigy-like abilities, threatening to unleash the monstrous Phantoms, e-year-old Maia and the other Effigies hope to defeat him by discovering the source of their power over the four classical elements, but they are betrayed by the Sect and bogged down by questions about the previous Fire Effigy's murder.

The Sisters of Reckoning (The Good Luck Girls #2) by Charlotte Nicole Davis: The blockbuster sequel to an alternate Old West-set commercial fantasy adventure.

The Sound of Stars by Alechia Dow: Set in the near-future, in which a captive teen human and a young alien leader—bonded by their love of forbidden books and music—embark on a desperate road trip as they attempt to overturn alien rule and save humankind. 

War Girls by Tochi Onyebuchi: Set in a futuristic, Black Panther-inspired Nigeria, sisters Onyii and Ify, separated by a devastating civil war, must fight their way back to each other against all odds.

Vessel by Sarah Beth Durst: When the goddess Bayla fails to take over Liyana's body, Liyana's people abandon her in the desert to find a more worthy vessel, but she soon meets Korbyn, who says the souls of seven deities have been stolen and he needs Liyana's help to find them.

The Weight of Stars by K. Ancrum: After a horrific accident brings loners Ryann and Alexandria together, Ryann learns that Alexandria's mother is an astronaut who volunteered for a one-way trip to the edge of the solar system.

White Smoke by Tiffany D. Jackson: Black teen Marigold and her blended family move into a newly renovated, picture-perfect home in a dilapidated Midwestern city, and are haunted by what she thinks are ghosts, but might be far worse.

Wings of Ebony by J. Elle: Black teen Rue, from a poor neighborhood who, after learning she is half-human, half-goddess, must embrace both sides of her heritage to unlock her magic and destroy the racist gods poisoning her neighborhood with violence, drugs, and crime.

Witches Steeped in Gold by Ciannon Thomas: In this Jamaican-inspired fantasy debut, two witches from enemy castes—one seeking power, and one seeking revenge—will stop at nothing to overthrow the witch queen, even if it means forming an alliance with each other and unleashing chaos on their island nation.

Within These Wicked Walls by Lauren Blackwood: An Ethiopian-inspired Jane Eyre retelling in which an unlicensed debtera, or exorcist, Andromeda, is hired to rid a castle of its dangerous curses, only to fall in love with Magnus Rochester, a boy whose life hangs in the balance.

Yesterday Is History by Kosoko Jackson: Black teen Andre Cobb undergoes a liver transplant and as a side effect winds up slipping through time from present-day Boston to 1969 NYC on the eve of the Stonewall riots, delivering a story that is part romance, part gay history, and part time-travel drama, exploring how far we have and haven't come. 

[milliedazzledust]

Even When It Hurts (Clark Kent imagine)

Request by @icyhollands​ : Clark comforting the reader after she got hurt by someone pretty badly, and him comforting her from a anxiety attack after she gets hurt

Words: 2009

A/N: I know a lot of you were waiting for this so I’m sorry it took so long to write - thank you for your patience and I hope you’ll like it :) 

“Clark, you need to come down, now!”

Flying across his enemies on the battlefield, he faintly heard the sound of a voice, even with the distance. As soon as Bruce had found the aliens associated with Darkseid, they had been quick to act and the whole team had made the trip to fight.

While the others were keeping most of their opponents on the ground, he had taken upon himself to divert their attention from the precious object they were trying to steal by attacking from the sky. Too focused on the task, he had missed Arthur and Y/N going after a bunch of them. When she had seen her friend in bad posture, she hadn’t hesitated to put herself between him and the alien, taking the full blast of his hit. Her body had flown across the field before landing on a large tree trunk, breaking it in half. Her vision had been blurred for a moment, too disoriented as her breath was knocked out of her by the hard impact. She hadn’t been fast enough to notice the monster running toward her until she had felt the pain. Arthur had come to her rescue and killed him, but it was too late. The damage was already done.

When she looked down, all she saw was the tip of the weapon he had used, the other half was deep in her side, buried between what she guessed was her ribs. 

“Y/N’s been hit!” Arthur yelled as he grabbed her when she fell on her knees. 

High above their heads, Clark looked down and quickly spotted the wounded woman. He wasted no time in making his way to her, sending some of the aliens flying with a flicker of his hand. When one of them launched at him, and conjuring up all his frustration and his anger, he punched him with a force that knocked him out instantly. 

His eyes remained on her, always. He felt his heart clenched when he saw pain twisting her features and instantly understood the gravity of her situation. She was holding onto Arthur, clutching her side, holding the weapon steady in her flesh. Fear is all he could feel when he landed on the ground, staring at the large gash of blood around her wound. He could even hear her heartbeat getting faster by the second. 

Furrowing his brows in concern, he kneeled in front of her and grabbed her face. For a second he just studied her, softly brushing a tear with his thumb, until his eyes landed on hers.

“How bad is it ?” She asked him, her voice a weak whisper.

“You’re gonna be fine” He assured her.

“You’re a terrible liar, Clark” She tried to smile but even that simple movement seemed too much in her state.

She knew if she didn’t feel a thing yet it was purely because of the adrenaline. Tiny little molecules running through her veins, urging her body to fight back, to survive and fix what the foreign object had torn. She could sense fluid pouring out of her injury, the hand clutching her side was already covered in red. She was waiting for the moment the hormone would stop working and she would feel like a bomb had exploded inside of her. 

She closed her eyes and a sob escaped her mouth. Her breathing was getting irregular and she was losing her grip. She was exhausted.

“Y/N, stay with me” The superhero tried to motivate her, slowly shaking her head. “Show me those pretty eyes” 

She was starting to lose consciousness, and that observation alone terrified him. He kissed her forehead in a sign of encouragement and laid his hand over hers so she wouldn’t let go. She cried out in pain and glanced down. It only took a couple seconds before he was covered in blood as well. He pursed his lips, forcing himself to keep his eyes on hers and not look at the wound. His face was betraying him and he wasn’t even aware of it. She could so easily see the reflection of his own fear in his gaze, the depiction of worry over his features that she lazily traced with her fingers. The shadow of a smile appeared on her lips knowing only she could read him like an open book. 

“It’s alright, baby” He comforted her. 

“You should work on your poker face” She tried to joke. She was glad it made him smirk.

He turned his head toward Arthur, still holding the woman’s body.

“We’re gonna lay her down” He told him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” Y/N warned him, grabbing his biceps to stop him. 

“Do you trust me ?” He muttered, stroking her cheek.

“You know I do”

“Then trust me” 

She faintly nodded and let the men handle her wounded body. Arthur was behind her, holding on her shoulders, and Clark was in front of her, one hand on her wound, the other behind her neck. As gently as they could, they started to rotate her. Clark never moved his gaze away from hers, not even when her hand gripped his shoulder in pain or when her tears flowed freely as the pain started to become unbearable. 

The moment her head touched the ground, she began to cough blood. Her eyes widened at the realization and her heartbeat hastily palpitated. 

“We’re alright” He reassured her.

“We’re alright” She repeated in a whisper. She could no longer focus on anything around her. Anxiety was creeping up and threatening to take over. She knew it would do no good but she couldn’t stop it. Her hand tightly clutched the fabric of her man’s costume and her chest started to rise more rapidly as bile rose in her throat. 

“Clark” She called for help in a single breath. 

“I’m here, baby. I’m not leaving your side” 

He wiped the blood on her mouth with his finger.

“You and I have a date tomorrow, remember ?” He spoke, smiling when she faintly nodded. “So you’re not allowed to fall asleep. I haven’t even introduce you to my terrible cooking yet”

Her laugh started a coughing fit, bringing more blood out of her mouth.

“I have to take it out, Y/N” He said more seriously, motioning to the weapon in her body. 

Her eyes widened in panic and she shook her head, ignoring the pain.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright, beautiful. I’ve got you” 

“A .. plan ?” She asked.

“Yes, I do have a plan” He understood her question. “But you’re not going to like it” 

“Tell me” She murmured.

“You’re hemorrhaging,” He explained. “If we let it in, you’re risking an infection”

“And if you take it out, I’ll bleed out” She weakly responded.

“Not if I cauterize the wound” 

“How ?” 

She understood the moment she saw his eyes flashing red. She gulped, mentally preparing herself for what was to come.

“I trust you” She repeated the words she had said already.

He nodded and gave her one last encouraging smile before motioning for Arthur to come closer. He explained his plan in a hurry before standing up, letting the King of Atlantis take his place. 

“Ready ?” He questioned the woman.

“Do it” She said, clenching her teeth. 

She averted her gaze toward Clark, mouthing one last ‘I love you’ before Arthur pulled out the weapon in a very fast movement and held her down. Superman’s eyes immediately started glowing and he directed his heat vision to the open wound. The moment the high temperature laser touched her skin, she screamed in agony. A horrible, searing pain suddenly invaded her body and she was convinced she was going to die right there. She felt the urge to get away from the source but Arthur had a good grip on her. She kept shouting, as if it would ease the burning sensation. Clark’s jaw tightened and a tear rolled down his cheek, hating to be the one causing her pain.

After only a couple of seconds, she could no longer handle the torture and lost consciousness. The superhero stopped his ministration when he was sure the wound was closed properly and no blood was leaking anymore. Ignoring the smell of burned skin, he silently picked her up in his arms, listening closely to her heartbeats to make sure she was alright.

“I’ve got her” He told Arthur before bolting in the air.

She woke up hours later in a bed, completely disoriented. It took her a solid minute to recognize Clark’s bedroom inside the Kent farmhouse. She felt a throbbing ache on her side and muffled a scream when she touched it. When she looked down, she realized Clark had taken off her suit and had replaced it with one of his shirts. She lifted it to inspect the damage but all there was left of her wound was a small scar made by the man she loved. She shuddered at the memory and swung her legs off the bed. The moment her feet touched the ground, her body crumbled and she lost her balance. A pair of strong arms caught her before she could injure herself.

“You’ve not healed yet” A voice scolded her.

She didn’t answer. Her eyes closed, she let her head fall on his chest and circled his waist, squeezing him in a tight embrace that she so desperately needed. He was her safe line when she was spiraling down, which was happening now that she remembered she had almost lost him.

“How are you feeling ?” He inquired, kissing her head

“Alive” She replied. “I got … I really got scared for a minute”

She brushed a tear and tried to stop the hurricane of negative thoughts hitting her. He felt it too when her body started shaking and ran a hand on her back to calm her down.

“I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you” He swore, holding back the anxiety creeping in. “And I hope you know I won’t let you out of my sight for at least a week” 

She knew it was his way of lightening the mood when he could feel her darkness hovering above both of their heads. He had a way of guessing when it was coming and always reacted quickly, diverting her attention to anything else but her mind playing games.

“Do I, at least, get to spend that week in your arms ?” She smirked, raising her head so only her chin was resting on his chest.

“I have conditions” He replied with a smile.

She rolled her eyes.

“Name it” 

She saw the change in his attitude and tilted her head in confusion when he took a step back. Cupping her face with both his hands, he stared deeply at her. She could see his quiet emotion through the way his eyes bore into hers, his fear and his devotion.

“Never say I love you like it’s the last time I’ll ever get to hear it” He told her, his lips quivering as a shaky breath escaped his mouth.

Instead of answering, she led him to the bed behind them and together they laid down. He pulled her close and she raised her head until her lips found his. She didn’t need words when she could condensed a million loving thoughts into this moment. The emotion of that kiss alone spoke volume. A simple gesture that meant ‘you’re my home and I won’t leave’

“I love you, Clark”

She repeated the words again and again, making him laugh with happiness. He tightened his hold around her waist until she was almost laying on his chest. Her ear against his heart, she listened with a smile and closed her eyes, soothed by the steady rhythm. 

“Thank you” She whispered after a while. 

“What for ?”

“Bringing my head and soul back home to you when they get lost” 

“Always” He promised.

Her face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, she kissed his cheek and peacefully fell asleep in his protective embrace. 

[weakforarwen]

What Gwen has so special in her? She doesn't fit with Arthur like she fits with Lancelot. Even Morgana has more a complex deep who fit with Arthur.

??? What's so special about Gwen? What's so special about Arthur? Or Lancelot? Or Morgana?

If two men like the same woman, she must be "special", is that it? Can't two men just like the same woman? Does she need to be a certain way to "deserve" the attention of multiple men? Do you like people because they're "special"?

And what's so special about Gwen? How about, everything. She's incredibly brave, outspoken, kind, compassionate, resourceful, intelligent, loyal, selfless, cute, lovable, graceful.

She was just a servant (and a woman), yet she defied Arthur, the prince, and made him see that women had the right to fight for their own lives just as much as men, and did not deserve to be treated like children. She also told Arthur - who was, again, the prince - to appreciate the food that was offered to him, since food is precious to most people.

Later, she berated Arthur - still the prince - for being ungrateful and behaving as if he owned her place, and reminded him to say "thank you" and "please". She also reminded him that he wasn't a child who needed to be told right from wrong - she held him accountable. Gwen's candidness is a quality Arthur deeply values and depends on.

Do you know how brave one needs to be to speak that way to a prince? Even if she knew Arthur wasn't arrogant and cruel like his father, she still took a risk speaking her mind.

Furthermore, she even told cruel, elitist, Uther that "someone like him" wouldn't understand love, and accused him of executing a "good and innocent" man - her father.

She also stood up to Agravaine, another pompous asshole, and argued for the lives of the poor citizens of Camelot who he would leave to die. She was smart in how she did it too. Not only is Gwen outspoken, she's also well-spoken, and knows how to work people.

Other examples of her being brave and selfless:

She risked her life getting fresh water for the sick when the dragon was wrecking havoc on Camelot. She threw herself at Arthur to save him. She faced Lumia to save Merlin. She risked her life lying to Morgana and conspiring against her to release Sir Leon from prison - she used what she learned from her father to make a copy of the key to the prison cells; said key was being kept in Morgause's room. Even though she's not a fighter, she fearlessly joined Arthur and Merlin on many life-threatening adventures. She survived, alone, her banishment from Camelot. She nursed Uther - the man who killed her father - because he was Arthur's father. In the face of her execution, she only asked that Merlin looked after Arthur.

Clearly, Gwen is as compassionate and forgiving as she is brave and strong.

Gwen is very special. But you don't have to be special to deserve being loved unconditionally.

And why do you think she fits with Lancelot? They had two episodes together and Lancelot ran off both times because he was insecure. They didn't have a relationship, and Gwen deserved better than someone who liked her but always left her alone because he didn't believe in himself - no offense to Lancelot.

Gwen and Arthur are very compatible. They both love Camelot more than anything, and would sacrifice anything for its people; they would do anything for their loved ones, and they love unconditionally. Above anything, they're loyal.

They're brave too, and not just for facing anything that comes their way. They're brave enough to follow their hearts and reject ridiculous customs (ie. a servant isn't just a servant, everyone's equal; people should be able to marry for love; a King needs to choose his own path and not follow in someone else's footsteps, etc.).

They're forgiving and merciful (Gwen with Uther, Arthur with Gwen).

A very important trait they share is that, at heart, they're both hopeful and optimistic people (unlike Lancelot, who was always very serious and self-defeating). No matter what happened, Gwen and Arthur were never down for long. They both lost their parents - and, eventually, their remaining family - and were betrayed by those closest to them (Morgana, for example), yet, they never once grew bitter and resentful, or stopped believing in people. They just kept going and fighting for the people of Camelot. They're eternally optimistic and resilient.

They're also responsible people who take pride in performing their jobs well, but still know how to be playful and easy-going.

They are so alike, and maybe you don't see it because you haven't been paying enough attention, or because you don't know the whole story yet.

Also, Morgana is "complex" in what way? Surely not after season 2. And you really don't want her anywhere near Arthur.