#can you tell i just finished rdr2 for the first time???? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

verdemoun · 5 months ago

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I wonder, how's Kieran doing, from the side of his neurodivergency? Was it diagnosed? Does he get support? An AAC perhaps, seeing as the poor guy's semi-verbal? How'd the rest of the gang accept it? I'M JUST SO CURIOUS ABOUT HIM I AM HOLDING HIM I AM SHAKING HIM LIKE A TOY HOW IS HE HANDLING HIS NEURODIVERGENCY

I am so normal about Kieran

You come into my house, the certified kieran duffy hyperfixation page, ask about my blorbo, my boy, the sole reason why RDR2 has infected my brain and completely changed my ability to engage with any other form of media, while also addressing my special interest of neurodivergence as a fellow brain wonk and career disability support worker all while finishing with the line 'I am so normal about Kieran'? Like shit I mean can I take you out for dinner?? Marry me maybe??

I am also so normal about Kieran

kieran duffy is autistic thank you goodnight!

no i will write a 2k word essay. kieran is pretty mid-spectrum (brief pause to acknowledge spectrum language lowkey outdated and problematic but no universally accepted alternative) he has chronic anxiety and mild aversion to eye contact, misses a lot of social cues, is hyper fixation central, but executive function-wise if he had spent his whole life in any one time period he would have been a-okay at being independent with some adaptive strategies

side tangent literally the first conversation he has with mary beth is so autistic he completely misses a rhetorical question, happily answers it, and then jumps straight into 'you're very pretty'. he apologizes for being forward he can and does acknowledge social conventions but just autistic brain does not understand why. is aware his brain is not wonking in the same direction as other people's brains.

but so. many. common sensory issues are a direct result of advances in technology. sure in 1899 wanting to cover your ears during a gunfight is a minor disadvantage but you know what isn't?? having every instinct in your body tell you to run away from the overwhelming loud noises. it took more effort to go into a city than to avoid them. going from horses, campfires and comfortably worn in clothing to the constant noise of cars, searing of artificial lights and synthetic fabric with clothes tags? bad time. Bad Time.

the real big issue for kieran in timewarp au is the c-ptsd autism combo meal. in general, buddy's got trauma. very clearly articulates how bad being an o'driscoll was physically and mentally. his intro is literally colm grabbing his collar and slapping him. gets starved and threatened with genital mutilation and still begs to stay with the VDLs because he hates colm. talks about the absolute power and control colm has. anxious whimpers telling arthur he saw o'driscolls riding around. it ain't just hate he is terrified of colm. you ever have a hypothetical anxiety situation become real and feel that knot of dread as your skin turns cold? knowing your literal worst nightmare was unfolding. and in this case, worse than he imagined. yeah. that's what it would've been like when kieran got taken at shady belle. immediately knowing he wasn't going to survive. only thing he could do is make sure he protected the VDLs and he instead he talked. it's canon kieran talked, whether tortured or manipulated into talking he did. first people to treat him decent, people he considered friends, and he died feeling like he betrayed them.

timewarp means dying. memories of dying. personally hc eye gauging was first but even - being beheaded. intentional deliberate time taken to make a show of it and inflict maximum psychological torment knowing what's going to happen opposed to the immediate bang and bullet of being shot. already autistic chronic anxiety man helpless to stop what's about to happen. i wonder if he thought the VDLs would care enough to try to rescue him and tried to hold onto that faint belief or if he immediately knew he meant so little they wouldn't? he died as he lived - alone.

only to immediately be thrown into modern era. fending for himself for approx a month before the gang stumble across him. with those memories being recent. with the overstimulation of suddenly being thrown into modern era saint denis. he is a homeless autistic man with no idea where he is what's happening what is a car why are they so loud why are street lights so bright and he just went through literally dying. having all his anxieties and the memories of the pain of whatever he went through with the o'driscolls. and the guilt? he is so terrified of the consequences of talking and betraying the gang that he literally runs from lenny and hosea when they first find him in timewarp. a month of starving, surviving on loose change and corner store coffee and occasional apple he may have picked out of a bin and still chooses to run because he's so completely traumatized by being taken/betraying the gang.

it's a lot more ptsd and that anxiety around 'i talked' that lead to semi-verbalism with autism reinforcing it opposed to the other way around. it only takes a few days of gentle encouragement + food + safe warm place to sleep (first time since long before even riding with the o'driscolls) for kieran to get comfortable with nods or the occasional one word response and most of the gang are happy to leave it there because they get he's been through a Lot. lenny and hosea saw what happened to him. hosea carried his decapitated head to his grave. they're all struggling and learning to adapt to modern era. kieran locking himself in a room for a week, flinching at any noise or touch like he's been scalded just seems reasonable after what he's gone through.

except despite being stray dog starved he's still picking at meals obviously only eating the meat and veggies which he has always done so they don't really think to mention it. and he doesn't really start settling in. he just. sits in room. might tremble into the kitchen like a wee lamb at 2am when he thinks everyone's asleep, grab an apple and vanish back to his room. gang increasingly confused because kieran is completely avoiding eye contact but clearly listening, answering questions as he stares in horror at the dishwasher no matter how many times they've explained it and let him like try to figure it out realise it isn't some sort of torture device. but maybe he was always like that how many actually talked to him??

resident tech lad lenny tries showing him a basic AAC app but having to remember to 1. charge phone 2. use phone 3. open app 4. scroll until finding image that probably means what he wants because he can't read 5. click button until gang charades out whole sentence is a lot of steps compared to just fidgeting/staring until someone asks the right question. it gets frustrating because he knows the complete sentence is 'hi sean what's the deal with you always bringing home pizzas also is there any way you could please bring home the one that's plain cheese again??' but he can't read so it's just guessing based on images 'sean why pizza? please pizza cheese' when he uses the AAC. instead he can eat his cheesy pizza, make a point of getting sean's attention, point at pizza, nod and get the point of 'i really like cheesy pizza please can you get more' across all while still chewing.

bessie, who is a history professor and absolutely talks to autistic people on a daily basis is embarrassed how long it takes her to realize hey wait kieran is a) only leaving his room at times where sensory load is reduced b) stimming to soothe when confronted with something new or higher anxiety than usual and c) only has multiple syllable conversations about horses and fishing. he went from terrified rabbit to genuinely excited to be talking about those things only to shut down immediately again when the conversation shifted or something happened that spooked him. she introduces him to noise cancelling headphones, slowly, gently explaining what they are, giving him multiple options to say no because still a new weird sensation but the relief is instant. kieran looked around, realized he couldn't hear damned buzzing and cars and just beamed leg bouncing in sheer excited relieved joy.

it's a lot more figuring out what works for kieran through trial and error because the gang have not heard of autism and don't really get it despite bessie's best efforts to explain. sean absolutely hit her with the 'wouldn't that make everyone autistic??' and she snapped back 'wOuLDn'T tHaT mAKe EveRYoNe iRiSH'. but they're all going through adapting to modern era and can empathize pretty well with how overwhelming a lot of the modern era is. electricity does have a noise most people get used to but every single one of the timewarpers went through a phase of looking over their shoulder in mild irritation because it's constant until their brains learned to filter the sound. kieran won't and wears headphones to cope with it? sure thing that makes sense!

trauma brain is desperate for assurances of safety by avoiding triggers (loud or new noises, green clothing, strangers, anything unfamiliar=dangerous) while autism brain is screaming safety is found in routine so that becomes a very important thing. with no horses to look after his routine is very much watch tv, do gardening, help out around house because feeling helpful is a dopamine hit for him. it's a lot of letting him do things at his own pace because he is a people pleaser and will do anything if he thinks he is being useful even at his own expense. but 'being helpful' goal setting a really easy way to gently expand his comfort zone. grocery shopping was withdrawn meltdown inducing but the second he has a job like being asked to push the trolley he will merrily shop for hours because he's just focusing on one task. brain suddenly content ignoring things that would otherwise be overwhelming, and once all the neurodivergency in his brain decides grocery shopping is not a potentially fatal experience he's suddenly wandering aisles picking up things they forgot or content going to the grocery store alone because he wanted a specific thing.

after catching kieran self-medicating anxiety with alcohol they do go through the process of at least getting him on SSRIs which is a lot easier than going through the process of a full diagnosis of adult autism but it's already a footnote in his medical file because it's pretty clear to anyone with an ounce of neurodivergent awareness that he is textbook autistic. and honestly modern era for kieran: it's not better or worse than canon for his particular brand of autism but definitely different. he's actually more comfortable around people in general because the odds of running into someone who has committed murder is a lot lower than it was in outlaw circles. because of supports like noise-cancelling and sensory toys he's more curious about things that would have made him want to tear his flesh off his bones in the past. genuinely enjoys when the gang decide to catch the train somewhere vs the heart attack the idea would've been in 1899. instead of needing to retreat and stim and be alone he will catch himself getting distressed over something (it's sean putting away dishes with reckless abandon) and pull on a weighted blanket and be at peace again. still would rather be in 1899 taking care of horses because there was less things to get used to but he can get comfortable with new things and actually find new things he enjoys

plus the gang do genuinely care about him. it started as crippling guilt of not realizing he was taken by the o'driscolls until horsemen apocalypses but they almost all come around to him being a really pleasant guy and are more than glad to support whenever he needs it. like hosea will merrily encourage an infodump because he also really enjoys fishing. in a sad but wholesome way the gang don't really notice how neurodivergent he is because they just didn't pay enough attention to him in canon era to see how the manifestations of autism have changed. just yeah there's duffy he don't talk a whole lot but do not ask him about seasonal fishing unless you have 3 hours to spare. do not go into his room that is his space he has hosea's permission to react violently to people messing with his things and the whole posse will rain hellfire upon anyone who takes his snacks without replacing them.

with it being clear kieran is not the biggest fan of the AAC lenny learns and helps teach kieran basic ASL so on less verbal days he can still ask for things and join in instead of getting frustrated with himself. most of the people he regularly hangs out with know enough words for it to be insanely helpful. his most used 'sign' is flipping people off. the gang's whiplash actually getting to know more of his personality as he feels safer around them than he ever did in 1899?? he might be a gentle buffoon but he is also a sass gremlin. arthur complains once about it being the 17th time kieran has watched spirit stallion of the cimarron and kieran sweetly threatens to reverse saving his life if arthur tries to reach for the remote again. he'll join in making fun of lenny and sean for how obviously they are simping for each other.

#rdr2 timewarp au #kieran duffy

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nutluvs · 9 months ago

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musicians in love - fluff

javier escuella x fem!reader

hellooo! 🤍 🪻 this is my first rdr2 post! some things i should point out: • i take requests, i rarely do smut but i always do fluff and angst • requests can be of any rdr2 character, whether major or minor • expect a lot of posts of charles smith, he's my husband and i love him bunches. • i mostly do short writings, but i can also do headcanons if requested! 🪻 warnings for this piece: maybe a little sloppy; it's my first time writing for javier, don't yell at me. also i don't even know how long this is, but it's kinda long.

you never thought of yourself as a terrible singer—you felt you were alright. you just needed some rounding out over a few roughened edges, after you took a few years off of your singing practice. not only did you need practice, but you needed confidence to be what you truly wanted to be: a singer. out in front of crowds in bustling cities all over the country, that's where you wanted to be. you wanted to use your own voice to please the public and provide entertainment in the grand theaters. but you resorted to the life of an outlaw, making reckless decisions, and now you knew that you couldn't ever be something as wonderful as a singer. it brought you down more than anything.

however, with your good friend javier, you lightened up significantly. he knew what your struggles were. he had to go through these same feelings at least once, maybe twice. he sang too, and quite frequently. not often in english, no, but he taught you a few a thing or two, some mexican spanish songs mostly, and you'd harmonize. compliments of your voices flooded in from the listeners nearby once you finished your duet.

"ah. you learn well and fast, mi amiga." javier praised gently after the crowd dispersed, nudging his shoulder gently against yours. you smiled sheepishly at him, your cheeks blooming in a light pink hue. "oh, you flatter me, javier." you sighed out. his deep brown eyes softened at your flushed face, and he couldn't help the smile that etched onto his lips as well. how he wanted to tell you that he was eager for any attempt to make your heart race, but he was just unaware if you felt the same or not. he didn't want to get used to directing flirtatious spews of words at you, just to be turned down. it wouldn't be worth it. however, javier could never just.. ignore his feelings for you. you were a kind soul, soft and delicate with one of the prettiest voices he'd ever heard. you had talent in music, identifying chords and defining them well enough. it wasn't so easy to find a bandit possessing real musical talent like you. you also took good care of him. you had patience, listening to him when he needed to discuss anything that bothered his calmly flowing day, and you always provided advice whether or not the issue was big. he liked you a lot. but his worry of rejection was pushing his confidence down. you were perfect to him, and he didn't want this failed opportunity to seep down the drain. what he didn't know was that you felt very similar.

your eyes trained down to javier's scarred fingertips as they delicately and idly plucked at the guitar strings. you loved his passion for his instrument and the music played with it, you loved the soft tones of his voice as he drew a handful of folk in the gang with each lyric. it wasn't just his musical skill you loved, but you loved his care for the gang and his personality, loyal, friendly. only sometimes was he a bit arrogant... you could deal with it when he was, and it wasn't like you disagreed with his vain behavior. his eagerness to save john when he was up in the mountains after a grizzly wolf attack, how quick he went when bill got caught by bounty hunters. he wanted only the best for his close ones. javier was just perfect in your eyes. a wonderful friend, someone you wanted to keep. you wondered what it'd be like to keep him forever as your love. the man noticed your lingering gaze, and he hummed gently to catch your attention. you looked right up at him. those pretty eyes, swimming with a wholesome light. "what is it?" you asked. "nothing, nothing, no worries. you just looked like you were zoning out," javier answered, looking at the strings of his guitar again before back at you. "i know you have a tendency to do that..." he pointed out in a humorous tone, and you laughed. the way you smiled, and the sound of your laughter... damn it. he had to bite back a groan and look away to cover up the furious scarlet that rose to his cheeks. his heart pounded hard in his chest, and he thought you heard it due to how it thrummed. he wouldn't get over this love for you. now that he thought a bit more about his feelings, he learned had to confess at one point or another. he had to do it, even if he was shy. it would be whatever if you didn't like him back, you'd still be friends. "listen," javier started. "you're special to me. very special to me. it's.. weird, it is, but, you.. you are mi corazón. i love you dearly. this might be stupid to you, you might not love me back, but.. i just wanted to tell you." your lips remained parted in surprise as the, first sappy, then insecure words left his mouth. you began to grip and fist your skirt, looking at your knees shyly. you hadn't the words to reply, you were oh, so stunned. "i'd understand if you don't love me back." he blurted. you both remained quiet momentarily, but his confidence was contagious, and it bloomed in your belly as you leaned a little closer. at first you moved hesitantly, but your leaning turned to a needy lunge as you cupped his flushed cheeks in your soft palms. what happened next was a blur to the both of you—your lips meeting in a swift kiss. you flinched lightly when you felt his hand rest on your back, and you retracted. your eyes were wide and so were his, but eventually, his grew soft once more. he grinned, "so you do love me back."

ohh stupid love stories thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed <3

#theres a taylor swift reference .. or a few .. in here somewhere. squint and youll see them >:)#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella rdr2 #fluff #nut's fluff 🪻

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sapphic-outlaw · 5 months ago

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Thinking about my first playthrough in RDR2. I had been playing RDO on and off for over a year and didn't give a shit about the story, but gave in and decided to play it because my TikTok followers kept telling me to.

So I did, and I rushed because I thought I wouldn't enjoy it. I was startled the first time Arthur started singing while riding, and then I stopped and listened. It made me so happy, such a small but lovely detail and that was pretty much the turning point for me, where I knew I was in love with the game. But I kept rushing, more or less because at this point I didn't realize that there was so much more to it than the main story.

Then suddenly Arthur got his diagnosis and I realized just how attached I was. Thought I had more time. I knew the story ended in tragedy, I mean I had been making RDO content for a few months at that point so it isn't too shocking. But Arthur getting his diagnosis still shredded me to pieces.

I didn't get to finish my first playthrough because I accidentally corrupted it, but ultimately, I'm kinda glad. I don't really feel like I earned the ending. I literally just went from story mission to story mission and hardly stopped for anything else. Didn't do any optional camp missions. Didn't even ever hang around in camp long enough to hear fucking anything. I missed WAY too much.

So now when people are asking on Reddit, TikTok, etc. for tips on their first playthrough, I tell them to take their time, especially if you don't intend on playing again, because there's SO much you can miss.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead online #rdo #red dead 2 #blair grumbles #rdr2 spoilers #red dead #spoilers

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sushisocks · 1 year ago

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hi i just finished rdr2, really love your stuff (FINALLY a blog that properly info dumps!! keep them coming please!!). i don't know if this is your thing, but the song I Gave You All by Mumford & Sons makes me think of arthur so much because each lyric corresponds so perfectly to his ending. obviously it's in the song title (arthur's "i gave you all i had"), but the lines "how can you say that your truth is better than ours?" and "you rip out all i had just to say that you've have won" makes me wonder what arthur's last thoughts really were?? the song has a very bitter tone, which is opposite of the game, but i can't actually tell what arthur's last words are supposed to mean, especially with him repeating "i tried...i did." were the "i dids" meant to be a plead for mercy (to remind dutch of his lifelong loyalty in hopes that he's spared from a violent death) or was it meant to be sympathetic (to indicate that they were both doomed men who were only trying their best)? or was it an apology, like "i did all i could, but it wasn't enough"? knowing his level of self esteem/guilt i think arthur would feel a very heavy obligation and responsibility, so it makes sense for him to say "i did all i could, but it still wasn't enough because i was not good enough," but he seemed to be very accepting of his death. sorry if this was rambly/late to the party, i would love to hear your thoughts about it!!!

Oh, Anon, this is the sort of thing I LOVE seeing in my askbox, I am kissing you on the lips rn for giving me the permission to talk about this so lets TALK about it!! (Sorry it took me a minute to get to it, I had to rotate ur questions in my mind for a bit so I could best formulate my thoughts, you know how it is)

First off, I Gave You All by Mumford & Sons is SUCH a good RDR2/Arthur song, I agree hugely on this, and it makes a LOT of sense for the ending notes, especially on a High Honor/Save John run. I've been listening to it on repeat since I saw ur ask, all while typing this up, and I got a lil emotional at times man. I love music recs and while I know some Mumford & Sons songs this was a recontextualization I very much needed in my life thank u <3

The rest of this is LONG so putting in a read more to save my mutuals lol

Okay, so, I now have a LOT of thoughts about what's going through Arthur's mind and what he might've meant at the end of his last mission, so lets get into it. To begin with I want to list out the lines that are said in this scene, so we're all on the same page. (Helpfully and lovingly pulled from the gamescripts wiki blog, which my life has revolved around for the past year and a half)

Dutch van der Linde: It is over now… Arthur. It’s over. Arthur Morgan: Oh, Dutch… he’s a rat. You know it and I know it. Micah Bell: He’s sick… he’s dying… he’s talking crazy. Pinkerton: There! Up there on the ridge! Arthur Morgan: (to Dutch) I gave you all I had… I did. Dutch van der Linde: I… Micah Bell: Come on. Dutch… let’s go, buddy. We made it. We won. Come on. Arthur Morgan: John made it. He’s the only one. Rest of us… no. But… I tried. In the end… I did. Micah Bell: (to Dutch) Come on… let's go. We can make it. Come on, Dutch… come on!

So WHAT is going on here? Surface level, this is the last appeal to Dutch. The last battle of wills between Micah and Arthur, where Arthur is STILL trying to make Dutch see sense. I think it's an important part of Arthur's character to understand that he believes, until the very bitter end, that there's a chance for him to reach through to Dutch. It's the main reason he heads back to camp, after saving Abigail. Milton has told him Micah is the rat, and Arthur believes that if he can just get back to camp and tell Dutch the truth, that will be it. He, erroneously, believes his word alone will be enough.

But the thing is, in my opinion, in a way Arthur is RIGHT! He DOES reach through to Dutch, but he has to die for it. That is what the "I gave you all I had" line is for.

It is Dutch, unsure who to believe. It is Micah, screaming for Dutch to listen to him. And it is Arthur, gently reminding Dutch: I devoted my entire life to you, all that I know has been with you, all that I am has come from you.

Arthur would have gone to the ends of the Earth for Dutch -- he would be grumbling and complaining the entire time, but he'd still do it if Dutch asked. He is, in this moment, telling Dutch, I gave you all I had and you took it, there is nothing left but my death, what reason do I have to lie?

It is the crack in the wall, a small moment of clarity for Dutch, which has him leave them both on that cliff, which has him turn up again 8 years later and kill Micah. Not enough to turn on Micah right away, but enough to truly have Dutch stop and reconsider. Because with those words Arthur is not only speaking on his own behalf, whether or not he knows it. He is reminding Dutch of everyone else who has died for him; Grimshaw, Molly, and Hosea, as the most notable ones, I think. Arthur slots neatly in with those three as people who truly devoted their everything to Dutch, gave him all they had, of life and time and energy, and were served nothing but death, destruction, and heartache in return.

It stuns Dutch; for once he is truly speechless, having to reckon with Arthur's words and what they mean, what they imply. Micah knows Arthur's words are more impactful, and keeps trying to sway him to his side, for ends we can only really guess at. But we already know there's no chance Dutch will go with Micah at this point. But he also wont stay with Arthur.

Then: "John made it. He’s the only one. Rest of us… no. But… I tried. In the end… I did."

One of Arthur's main objectives in Chapter 6 is saving as many people of the gang as possible. The Pinkertons are closing in and, while Arthur believes that it's just bad luck until Milton tells him otherwise, he still hopes for the best outcome possible, for the women and children, as he says.

Which is why he says John made it. Because to Arthur, John's making it, means the women and children making it. It means Abigail, Tilly, Sadie, and Jack, all waiting at Copperhead Landing, are not waiting in vain. It is the reassurance that they will be fine, and the idea that John might finally actually step up and be the father Arthur has so desperately wanted him to be for Jack. To Arthur, John making it is the best outcome.

But he still wanted to save as many people as possible. Dutch, Javier, and Bill included. They were still Arthur's friends and family. They still mattered to him. But I think Arthur realizes, dying upon that cliff, that there's no way out for them anymore. They'll get off this mountain and continue their way of living, and the government will keep hunting them. He is essentially saying the rest of them are just as doomed as Arthur is, even if Arthur is the one currently dying. And he tried.

I want to say that Arthur saying he tried, is both about saving the gang, and about being better. There are SO many interactions you can have in chapter 6 alone that's about being better than you were. Edith Downes, Sister Calderòn, Charles, Rains Fall, and Mary-Beth are just SOME that I can think of, at the top of my head. I think in this moment, Arthur is reaffirming to himself that at the very least he tried. He did everything he could, in the time that he had. He doesn't know if that's enough, or if it means more than what it is, but he tried, and that, to him, HAS to mean something.

It is him accepting that this is the end, and that he doesn't know!! He genuinely doesn't!! If he has done enough to actually change the course of events!! But God do I love the message of Arthur finding peace in having tried. In having done what he could, and seeing what changes he could, and knowing in that last breath, watching that rising sun, that he did make a difference.

Do I think Arthur is angry or bitter when he passes? Not in a High Honor/Save John run, no. I think he is disappointed and sad with Dutch. But I also think he has found a place within himself where he can accept that this is it, for him. And he is hopeful for those whom he has saved, who got out of there and live to see another day.

He gave his all, and he really really tried, and he finds peace in the end. How simultaneously heartbreaking and heartening isn't that?

#mannn now im emotional #i hope this all made sense HAHAH jesus #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #micah bell #rdr2 meta #rdr thoughts #teki talks #bitches be ranting (im bitches)#i LOVED this though my askbox is ALWAYS open for stuff like this #and ALSO music recs if u have songs or playlists for rdr2 or ships or characters pleaseeeeee i love music give me that shit NOW #asks #rdr asks #meta asks

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maleficore · 1 year ago

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Saw someone else do it and I think I've done this before too, but the list has grown since then a bit so here's my current lineup of read dead wips that I'm working on!! :D Minus the stuff that's already posted on AO3 cuz I see no point in doing a synopsis for things that have left my google drive and you can go and read ahah.

Turned out loooooong so lookie under the cut if you're interested in knowing what I'm up to.

Morston Soulmate AU (title tba, multichapter, around 20-30k when finished) - An AU where you can feel all the injuries your soulmate gets, both minor and major ones. There's no soul marks, seeing your soulmate get hurt and connecting the dots is the only way to find out. Has a lot of time skips and focuses more on feelings than events, but starts out pre-canon when John almost gets lynched and works its way towards the end of the canon story. Chapters alternate between Arthur's and John's POV. Canon compliant :)

RDR2 "Modern AU" (title tba, multichapter, long as shit) - I only call it a modern AU for the sake of simplicity... I'm not sure if it counts as one. Set in 1999 and focuses on the case of Arthur Matthews -- a 36 year old adoptive son of the infamous criminal defence lawyer Hosea Matthews, who went missing without a trace for six months and then reappeared miles from his hometown, seemingly unharmed, but also... not quite right. Delusional, confused, suffering from some sort of memory impairment. The story is about Arthur struggling to adapt to being back home in a reality that is apparently foreign to him. Outsider's/John's POV, but not really shippy. It can be read as pre-slash, though.

My Self-Indulgent Jesse/Arthur fic (another title tba lol, it's too early to tell but I'm thinking multichapter? A collection of scenes from 1878 to 1899) - This one is for me and me only, though I will eventually post it 😂 Written in second person, like a reader-insert and can be read as one if someone wants to, but I am including Jesse's backstory and feelings that are way too specific to be immersive for anyone but myself... I'm working real hard to write it in a way that portrays growing up queer in that time somewhat realistically, so it's not always pretty, but I do try to keep it not that depressing. Features: Jesse's early-life backstory, the story of the scar, his first Gay Experience, how his brothers died, the ups and downs of his relationship with Arthur, why they eventually broke up for what felt like last time, how he got arrested (altered RDO storyline bit) and how he got back up with the gang. I'm planning to do a rough rewrite/fix-it of the canon story with him in it too, but that's... an "one day" thing ajsddjfk

Morston Omegaverse (title tba, one shot, around 10-15k probably? I can't keep things short, sorry) - Young-ish and freshly presented Alpha John, "Closeted" Omega Arthur. Ngl this one is smutty as hell... but! I think my take on omegaverse is rather fun (very transgendered) and it's porn WITH not without plot so something for everyone there lol. John's POV again + lotsa feelings, misunderstandings and some angst :) Just the way I like it.

Vandermatthews Daemon AU (had a title but ao3 yeeted my draft and I forgot what it was, oops)- I say Vandermatthews, but it's more of a "curious couple, unruly son" genfic than real slashfic 😅 This is supposed to be the beginning a series of oneshots from different characters' POV. This one is maybe a 1/3 done (needs a serious rewrite tho) and written from Hosea's POV. It's about him and Dutch finding and taking in young Arthur -- a very traumatised child who has undergone intercision and therefore lost his daemon. More of a collection of vignettes from that moment to when they take in John than a real coherent fic tho. The next one is going to be John's POV coming of age thing and we'll see where my brain will go from there. I want to do a separate big ass post about this one later because I have Opinions on the gang members' daemons that I need either challenged or validated...

1907!John/Isaac fic (title tba... a two parter, one set in the epilogue and the second is a RDR1 fix-it) - NOW HEAR ME OUT!!!!!! PUT DOWN THE GODDAMN PITCHFORKS FOR A SECOND PLS This is a plot bunny that Refused To Fucking Die. Isaac is obviously an adult in this (22), they have never met before, and the story begins in the months where Abigail and Jack were gone and John worked alone on Pronghorn ranch. It's not so much a romance (despite the slash) but more two people dealing with different types of grief in Very Unhealthy ways, okay. It's supposed to be a bit iffy because of that and the... 12 years of difference between them in this universe. I'm not trying to make this shit uwu or anything. It's also a bit of a daddy issues vent piece for me and I've been working it for MONTHS because I want to write this one right. This is the the fic I redacted in my last WIP showcase, but now decided that... fuck it. Here you go.

(Doubt anyone has made it this far, but if you did ily.. please lemme know what you think? My ask box is open for questions too... I love talking about the stuff I'm working on even if it's not posted yet ❤)

#wrote this instead of working on any of these like i promised myself i'll do today..#master of procrastination #(well i wrote like 500 words of and i'll die if that counts.. but i've been at my puter the whole day so that's like nothing rip)#rdr2 #oh the joys of fic writing

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kirain · 4 years ago

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I started playing rdr2 but stopped because like idk but I can't seem to get over the fact that all the women are prostitutes and they don't really have any important roles. Like what's Abigail do? Ooh she's a mother who's always mad? What do the other women do? Oooh they sleep with the gang. What's Sadie do? Oooh she becomes a badly written femme fetale who suddenly becomes a flawless killer. The women are just so badly represented.

I get the feeling you didn't play the game naturally or see any random encounters, because none of what you said is true. There's a lot to unpack here, so let's start with the "all the women are prostitutes" comment.

First of all, none of the women are prostitutes, a fact that deeply irritates Micah. During a coach robbery where he rides with Arthur and Bill, he even says, “Why the hell do we need a gaggle of girls who won’t even fuck you if you put a gun to their head? Is it too much to ask considering they get a piece of every damn dollar I bring in?” Poor baby. He even tries to proposition all of the women (Grimshaw included), but they all insult him and send him running with his tail between his legs. It’s hilarious and I love it. Arthur also responds to Micah with, “Everyone does their share. I don’t see you lifting a finger around camp.”

Now a bit about the girls:

Mary-Beth was a skilled pickpocket, but she ended up being caught by a group of her victims. She mentions this during a conversation with Arthur, where she points out how hard it was for women who came from nothing, and the inequality of it all. RDR2 actually regularly highlights how difficult frontier/outlaw life was for women back then, often pulling zero punches. While fleeing her pursuers, Mary-Beth luckily ran into Hosea, who helped her escape and welcomed her to the gang. You can see Dutch lusting after her a few times, because he's an old pervert, but she always shuns his advances. She was never a prostitute and she was actually underage when she joined.

Tilly was a child outlaw and a member of the Forman gang from the age of twelve. She ended up killing the leader's cousin because he [as is heavily implied] tried to rape her. She was around sixteen at the time and tried to return to her mother after the ordeal, but she unfortunately passed away while Tilly was running with the Formans. Out of options, she eventually joined the van der Linde gang after Dutch saved her from some unspecified trouble. You can find most of this out during one of my favourite side missions, where she gets kidnapped by Anthony Foreman in retaliation for killing his cousin. With Grimshaw’s help, you can rescue Tilly and put an end to it once and for all. She was never a prostitute and was also underage when taken in.

Susan Grimshaw was one of the original members of the gang and one of Dutch's first lovers. They parted amicably and both fell in love with other people (Dutch with Annabelle, and Susan with a doctor who sadly ended up dying), but she stayed with the gang because of their mutual respect for each other. She later became the arbiter of the camp and a kind of surrogate mother to Arthur, John, and the other girls. She was never a prostitute, but rather a rough-and-tumble outlaw.

Karen is a little more complicated. Overall, she was a scam artist (Hosea even called her an “actress”) who sometimes lured men into brothels, then stole from them or picked their brains for leads. That doesn't necessarily mean she was a prostitute; however, it just means she used sex as a manipulation tactic. Out of all the women in the group, she was the freest and most unconventional. She also stood on guard duty and participated in heists. The only man she ever slept with in game was Sean, and his death absolutely devastated her. If you talk to her or observe her interactions, you also discover she’s a raging alcoholic suffering from some very deep-seated issues. She likely did have to do things she wasn’t proud of in order to survive, but in my opinion that makes her one of the most realistic members of the group. She was never described as a prostitute.

Molly was an aristocrat who left her family to be with Dutch. His abusive treatment eventually led her to suffer an identity crisis, where she ended up hysterical and heartbroken. Her story is sad, but she was never a prostitute. If anything, Molly is the best example we have that Dutch views people as items, not human beings.

Abigail is the only prostitute in the game, but by the events of RDR2 she's an ex-prostitute. To say she's nothing more than "a mother who's always mad", I feel, does her character a great disservice. First of all, she left that profession behind to raise her son, to give him a decent chance in life. Unlike John, she stepped up immediately to become a responsible adult. I don't think people realise how impressive that is because, one, she could've easily abandoned Jack at the roadside (which was common back then), two, she could've induced an abortion, and three, she was quite young when she had him; around nineteen years old.

You say the women are "poorly represented", but they're stronger, smarter, and more mature than most of the men. A few of them even become self-sufficient in the turn of the century, something dear old Dutch couldn't even do/accept. Abigail in particular helps Sadie mourn her husband and the two grow very close. Their interactions are both grounded and heartwarming, with Abigail telling Sadie she’ll suffer the loss of her husband, but that it’ll get better if she keeps on living. She takes care of her, and Sadie later returns that kindness. These women are so full of quirks and humour and personality, I don’t know how you missed it.

As for Sadie ... where do I even begin? Badly written? Femme fatale? Flawless killer? Sadie is one of the best written characters. She's not flawless, she's exceptionally flawed, temperamental, and traumatised. It's never expressly stated, but it's implied at several points throughout the game that she was repeatedly assaulted while the O'Driscolls kept her captive. At first, she's petrified and miserable, to the point that all she does is cry and express suicidal ideation. Then, she gets angry. Very angry. Having nothing left to live for, her home and husband torn from her grasp, she throws herself headfirst into danger, which almost gets her killed on a number of occasions.

She's not a "flawless killer", she's a messy killer. She's not an expert death-dealer, and that's made evident from the start -- but she was a hunter who shared the workload with her husband, so it's not as if her skills just magically appeared. You do see how much it weighs on her, however, near the end of chapter six. If you help her kill the rest of the O'Driscolls, she laments what she's become because she thinks her husband would be horrified. She’s extremely complex and struggles between mourning and moving on.

I also can't help but laugh at the "femme fatale" accusation, because Sadie actually defeminises herself, which is understandable considering the hell she’s suffered. She even wears men's clothing, which wasn't illegal [anymore] back then, but it was openly frowned upon. Femme fatales use their beauty and sexuality to their advantage, ensnaring men with their feminine wiles. Sadie never does that and fights side-by-side with the boys. Interestingly enough, that's partially why Calamity Jane, an actual historical figure, garnered so much attention, because of how she behaved/dressed. It’s pretty clear to me that Rockstar might’ve used her as inspiration for Sadie. This was a real woman who lived from 1852 to 1903.

In addition, Sadie plays one of the most important roles, yet she does so without falling into the category of a Mary-Sue. She saves the gang and moves them to a new location when the Pinkertons attack Shady Belle. She hatches the plan that frees John from prison. She helps Arthur rescue Abigail after she gets kidnapped. She tracks down Micah and puts an end to his reign of terror. But most of what she does she accomplishes with a partner--Arthur or John--both of whom she respects immensely. No one, not even Arthur, does everything alone, and when they do there’s usually negative consequences. It's the camaraderie and shared experiences that make these characters successful, and aside from Charles and Hosea, I’d even argue that the women are more well-rounded and fleshed out than the men.

I gather from for comments that you didn't finish the game, so I hate to spoil it, but I kind of have to if you walked away with this mindset. The women of RDR2 are a force to be reckoned with.

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dilfenthusiast · 4 years ago

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Camp Boys Comfort You After a Bad Dream

RDR2 Men x GN!Reader - Comfort/Gen

Arthur

- He’s a heavy sleeper but he’s gotten used to sleeping next to you so when you startle awake it’ll rouse him

- He’ll probably be a little groggy but when he sees you sitting bolt upright in bed he’ll sit up immediately too, listening for anybody around

- “What happened? Did you hear something?” he’ll ask, reaching for his gun by the bed, but when you tell him it was just a bad dream he’ll sigh in relief, before realizing it was serious to you

- “Well... want to tell me about it?” he asks hesitantly. He rarely talks about his dreams but he knows it’ll calm you down if you talk about yours, and he loves hearing you talk

- He listens intently, slowly laying back down and wrapping his arms around you when you do too, both of you falling back asleep to your quiet murmuring, feeling safe in each other’s embrace

Bill

- Bill would sleep through you waking up, but as soon as you reach for his hand, squeezing it reassuringly for yourself, he’d wake up slowly

- “You alright?” he’ll ask blearily, eyes squinting at you through the gloom, but he can tell you’re stressed by how you’re sitting

- “Aw, dreams ain’t nothing, darlin, c’mere,” he’d say after you told him why you woke up, sitting up and pulling you back against his chest, his warmth and solid presence grounding you

- He’d kiss your shoulders and give them a little massage as you sit with him in comfortable silence, the dream slipping away, replaced by the calm love he radiates

- He spoons you extra close as you lay back down to sleep, saying “I got you, baby, don’t worry”

Charles

- Charles talks a lot about the beauty of the night sky so when you wake from a bad dream you decide to leave your tent and go look at the stars, hoping to relax your racing mind before going back to sleep

- You head a ways away from camp to get away from the fire and lantern light and take a seat, looking at the patterns in the stars and thinking about the stories Charles told you about them

- Suddenly you feel a blanket around your shoulders and Charles is standing there, looking at you with concern in his eyes

- “I didn’t mean to wake you, I had a bad dream” you say and see his eyes soften

- He sits next to you, wrapping the blanket around you both

- “Sometimes dreams are the mind’s way of working out problems or concerns. Sometimes they’re not pleasant,” he says, kissing your temple, “do you want to talk about it?”

- You both sit, looking at the night sky, hoping to see a shooting star, until you get cold noses and toes and quietly return to your tent to sleep until the sun rises

Dutch

- Dutch often stays up late into the night, reading his novels, writing down plans, considering leads, and doing his own personal finances in his journal

- When you wake up from your dream with a gasp, he looks over, concern on his face illuminated by the dim lantern on his desk

- “Oh Dutch, I just had the worst dream” you’d sigh, the last fragments of the dream playing on your mind

- “My love, I am sorry. What can I do to make it better?” he’d ask, sitting next to you on the bed and taking your hands in his, kissing your forehead, rubbing his thumbs across your knuckles

- Whatever you ask for, he’ll do. He likes it when you ask him to read to you, his smooth voice lulling you back to sleep but if you just need him to climb into bed and wrap his arms around you, he will, saying “it was time for me to come to bed anyway.”

- He runs his fingers across your cheek after you fall asleep, joining you in slumber soon after

Hosea

-Hosea is a light sleeper and your restless movements and soft noises of distress woke him up first and he’d gently shake you awake

- “What’s going on in that mind of yours, sweetheart?” he’d ask, a smile on his lips, hoping to ease the tension on your face

- “Bad dreams are mighty miserable” he’d nod, having had plenty is his time, rubbing soft circles into your arm with his thumbs while thinking of what to do to take your mind of it

- “Tell you what, I’m going to tell you a story. Whenever you like, just go back to sleep, okay” and he’d lay down next to you and start murmuring, his story told in hushed tones and whispers, just loud enough for you to hear

- The darkness of the night and the warmth of Hosea would make you sleepy again and listening to his soft voice next to you as he told his story would take your mind off the dream you had

- Your eyes would slip closed, and you’d mumble “I’m still listening” but as soon as he heard your soft snores he’d chuckle and kiss your temple and say “I can finish this story another time”

Javier

- Javier is another light sleeper and wakes up just as you do, confusion and concern on his face as he realizes it was you that woke him up

- “You ok, mi amor?” he’d ask, taking your face in his hand and kissing your cheek

- “Ah, I hate bad dreams. Always get them when I think about problems too much or when I’m scared about something,” he’d say, pulling you against his chest, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, “tell me what it was about”

- Whatever your dreams was about, whatever problem you might be worrying about, he takes the time to reassure you the opposite

- “You’re always safe here. The gang loves you and will protect you, and more importantly, I love you and I will protect you, no matter what,” he says, kissing your shoulder “there’s nothing I won’t do for you, corazón”

- You both lay back down and he pulls you in close to him and as you drift off you hear, “remember I’m always here for you”

John

- Sleeps through everything, but you gently shake him awake after a bad one, making him groan and roll over, a frown on his face as he looks for you in the darkness

- “It’s just a dream, darlin’, they ain’t real” he’d say, a little irritation at being woken up in his voice

- “Yeah but it scared me pretty bad” you’d say, laying down and curling into his chest, wrapping an arm around him

- “Alright well, are you gonna go back to sleep now or not? I gotta get up early” he’d huff, but he’d pull the blanket back over you, tucking you into his chest with an arm around your shoulders

- “Tell me you love me, John,” you murmur into his warmth, snuggling as close as you can. You hear him hum before saying “you know I do. Now please be quiet.”

- He hates being mushy but when he thinks you’re asleep he leaves a little trail of soft kisses across your forehead and whispers “Of course I love you”

Micah

- Micah wakes up, being a light, restless sleeper himself, and finds you awake from your dream, staring into space as you think about what you just dreamed

- “You alright?” he’d ask quietly, his drawl not covering up the concern in his voice, hand reaching out to take yours in the dark

- “Well shit, dreams ain’t so bad. I thought it was something serious,” he says, laying back down and rubbing your back absently with a hand,trying to get you to relax and come back to bed

- “It was serious to me. Scared me to hell,” you’d say, pouting a little as you laid down next to him, arms crossed

- He’d chuckle and nuzzle up to you, pressing soft kisses into your temple, “you ain’t got nothing to worry about so long as I’m here, sugar” he’d say before pulling you closer to spoon you against his chest

- “I’m going back to sleep now ‘cause I”m tired as hell, but you wake me if you get any more bad dreams”

-He falls back asleep very quickly and his soft snoring lulls you back to sleep too, warm in his arms

Sean

- Sean wakes you up, shaking you awake frantically, concern and uncertainty in his eyes as he hovers over you

- “You were being loud as hell, darlin’, what’s got you all riled up?” he’d ask, hand gripping yours tightly as he waits for an answer

- “Just a bad dream, Sean, I’m fine,” you mumble, last tendrils of fear dissipating as you come back to reality and feels the blanket on you, the cot beneath you, and Sean’s warmth beside you

- “Aw, with the noises you were making I was hoping it was a dream about me,” Sean would chuckle, leaning down to kiss you, “wait, it wasn’t a bad dream about me, was it?”

- “No, it was nothing, I’m fine,” you’d say, yawning as the absence of adrenaline left exhaistion in its wake, tension dissipating from your limbs to leave lethargy behind

- “You certainly are fine, my love” Sean would say, kissing you a few more times, “but, for what it’s worth, you know, you have nothing to worry about here, right? You know I love you, don’t you? Because I do. And so does everyone in this gang, we’d do anything for you,” words coming out in a quiet rush as he squeezed your hand

- “Of course I know that. I love you too, Sean,” you say, pulling him down for one last kiss, “but go back to sleep, I’m ok.”

~~ End ~~

(A/N if I didn’t write someone it’s just because I couldn’t think of anything for them, not because I don’t like them. Enjoy)

#Arthur morgan x reader #micah bell x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #charles smith x reader #bill williamson x reader #hosea matthews x reader #jon marston x reader #javier escuella x reader #sean macguire x reader #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 headcanons #isabela writes #some of these turned out longer than i expected wtf

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systemdump · 2 years ago

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Red Dead Redemption 2 Review

I finished RDR2 a few weeks back now, so the review is long overdue. Buckle up.

Unlike most games I review, I knew exactly what I was getting into when I booted up RDR2. I knew a fair amount of the story prior to playing; being one of the biggest games out there, I knew the fate of Arthur Morgan. Spoilers were inevitable. However, I did not know about his journey to that point, so I was pleasantly surprised when I discovered its narrative. I tried to start this game back in July 2021, but I stopped before the first chapter ended as I didn't feel compelled by the story. With this in mind, I decided to give it another shot. If it turned out I still didn't like it, then no biggie. It's just not for me.

Story

RDR2 is a tragic story. A tale of a man who is self-loathing and morally ambiguous (depending on how you play him) who inevitably wants what's best for everyone. He is someone who cares a whole lot, and none of it is reserved for himself. His guilt for his unlawfulness rears its ugly head when he becomes ill. Making amends isn't so easy, especially when he is who he is. Not only does he have TB, but the gang is falling apart. I loved the togetherness the gang provided, especially socialising at camp. Engaging with members made the story more immersive.

Regarding the ending. I would be lying if I said I didn't cry. There's something bittersweet about his death. He knew it was coming and he never once looked behind him. He wanted desperately to see the good in Dutch, the man who raised him since he was a boy. However, Micah was a parasite that latched onto the gang, polluting Dutch. Once a man who had some form of morality to his killings was now running wild. The true TRUE ending, however, was lovely. I'm happy John managed to make it out, even if we know he doesn't stick around for much longer with the events of rdr1.

Combat

Combat was okay. I think something is satisfying about pulling the bolt and getting a clean headshot. Meanwhile, it was unforgiving in places. The trigger between interaction and open fire was a thin line. I shot people many, many times when I intended to speak with them. The gunplay is great. I love the customisation it allows you to really make the gun your own. Melee combat was something I rarely used outside of missions. Usually, it was the result of running into someone, or a bar fight that started randomly. RDR2's combat isn't the shining beacon of the game and I think it acknowledges that.

The World

This is where the bells and whistles are at. As some of you may know, I am a big fan of huge open word games. I love immersive RPGs that let you take this world and make it your own. Even if you aren't someone influential, like Jin Sakai in GOT, your actions still have an impact. And even when they do, the world still moves on without the player present. You are not the sole progressor of the world. Continuity was well established, with rewards for helping people on the road. The random encounters in this game were super fun. I also loved the amount of detail that was put into the world. The interior of the shops in particular really stood out to me. Actually picking stuff off the shelves? Unheard of. Not for Rockstar, though. Not only is the world immersive, it's also stunning. From the swamps of Saint Denis to the snow-capped peaks, it truly is breathtaking. You can tell that a lot of care was put into the creation of this map.

Final Thoughts

I love this game. Truly. It's now near the top of my list. It's an experience that I enjoyed thoroughly, and will likely return to in the distant future. There's no surprise as to why RDR2 is considered one of Rockstar's greatest accomplishments. Maybe one day GTA6 will top this masterpiece.

#rdr2 #chloe reviews #Red Dead Redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rockstar #r*#red dead redemption

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gaaavin · 3 years ago

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Edmund Lowry Jr.

Hiya! I've had another idea and wanted to write something for it, too. It’s inspired by / based on that serial killer in RDR2. Feel free to give me feedback or whatever you'd like. Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x gn!reader

Words: 4.9 k

Summary: You thought it'd be an easy job with a nice prey at the end of the evening, until everything took the wrong turn.

Warnings: angst, mentions of torture but nothing too graphic, kidnapping, thoughts about death but with a happy ending

Finally, some green around you. That was your first thought, after you and the whole Van der Linde gang had arrived in Horseshoe Overlook. It was a lovely camp with a beautiful view. You sure could stay here for a longer period this time, hopefully. The constant moving took a toll on everyone just as much as the running from the law. Before finally settling into your current camp, all of you had to flee from Blackwater. A job there had gone terribly wrong and there was talk about Dutch losing control and shooting a woman. You hadn’t been there at that moment but you just couldn’t imagine that something like this would ever occur. The Dutch you knew would never harm any innocent folks. This escape resulted in an overhasty departure for the mountains – Colter had been the place of refuge up there. It was cold and you almost had no supplies. You generally liked the cold weather and snow but the storm up there you all had to endure was way too much to enjoy it at all. For now, though, you tried to push the negative thoughts away, instead concentrating on your new surroundings.

About a week after all things had been unpacked, you decided to go into the nearest town – Valentine. Dutch was right about all of you needing money urgently and you of course wanted to contribute, too. You saddled your mount up and rode out, but not before telling Karen where you wanted to go. “I’ll check, if I can find anything interesting in Valentine. Do you need something from the store while I’m in town?” you asked her. Her response coming promptly. “Some candies would be nice, would make these days here a lot more enjoyable.” As she concluded her answer, she winked at you earning her a small laugh on your part. After nodding, you spurred your horse and went into town.

The first thing you noticed was the smell, even before you entered the city at all. The second thing was the auction yard. Well, that explains it. No wonder it smells like horseshit everywhere around here, you thought as you entered the city. The people seemed friendly towards you, greeting you here and there. Although, you knew that you shouldn’t get on the town’s bad side. Some of the guys from your camp had caused trouble in the saloon some days ago and let’s just say that they aren’t as welcome in there anymore.

One of the boys was Arthur, your- well, you didn’t know what exactly the two of you were. Back in Blackwater your friendship slowly turned into something more intimidate, even romantic, with it peaking one drunken night around the campfire when you shared your first ever kiss. The sparks flew through the air and you felt like you were on cloud nine, being the happiest you had been in months. Since then, though, it felt like Arthur was avoiding you. Or maybe you were just imagining things. After all, you two hadn’t had much time after all the fighting, shed blood and the running after that. You had a special bond with Arthur like you’ve never had with anyone before – even before your relationship went to some sort of next level. You could communicate without words, understanding the other in more than one precarious situation. Currently, Arthur was away to get Sean back from those bounty hunters – that’s at least what John had told you earlier. You tried to push the thoughts of Arthur to the back of your head, trying to focus on the task at hand – find a lead or somebody to rob.

As you finally arrived at the saloon across the gunsmith, you hitched your horse and entered the facility. You were greeted with warm, liquor-filled air as you headed towards the bar, letting your eyes wander around. Drunk men were an easy prey. Before leaving camp, you had put on nice clothes, that were quite revealing. For you, that was the best way to gather information about anything or to rob someone. You mostly played either the damsel in distress or someone looking for some night company and most of the men fell for it every time, letting you close enough for you to relieve them of their valuables or information. Either was welcome.

After some time, your eyes landed on a stranger, that was looking directly at you. Bingo! You tried to approach him with your best smile. “Hey stranger.” You said, earning you a small smile from him. He had something odd to him. You couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but something about him put you off and gave you goosebumps all over. For now though, you tried to ignore your gut feeling. You were experienced in the things you did on an almost daily basis. Even if he could possibly be some sort of danger for you, you would definitely be able to defend yourself. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time some drunk feller had inappropriate thoughts about you.

“Hey there.” He grinned at you. As you took a real first look at him, the thing you noticed right away were his eyes. You were a firm believer that the eyes displayed the door to the soul and his were just so… dark. Not just the color but also their aura. They had a strange glint to them and there was something deeper hiding behind them. Something bad maybe? Nonetheless, you offered him a drink and ignored your gut feeling again. After all, you wanted your camp members to have something to eat or rob in the future. “You seem lonely tonight. May I offer you a drink and maybe my company?” you asked him while fluttering your lashes. He seemed to think about his response for a moment, before finally saying. “Sure, that would be very kind of you. Thank you. Name’s Edmund Lowry Jr. May I ask yours?” You smiled innocently at him, before telling him a fake name.

Unfortunately, Mr. Lowry declined every further offer of you to buy him another drink. It would make things definitely more complicated if he didn’t want to get drunk. Quickly thinking of a plan B, you ultimately decided that you could just knock him out with the revolver hidden under your clothes if you’d be able to lead him to a more secluded area somewhere outside. He had told you earlier that he was a rich man and owned some land outside of Valentine, so the prey was too rewarding to not at least try to rob him. Although your plan was pretty dangerous, you put it into action by asking him if he’d mind joining you for a small walk outside. “The air in here is really getting to me and I think I need some fresh, new air.” He grinned almost devilish at you, before offering you his arm to lead you outside.

Taking a stroll in the streets, you tried to steer him towards the stables. This terrain was secluded enough for you to hit him and flee without causing much of a scene or getting caught. He guided you towards the fields in the back of the stables, let go of your arm and took a step forward, facing the wide area behind Valentine. This was your moment. With his back to you, you reached under your clothes to grab the revolver but just in that moment he turned rapidly around and pointed towards the theatre. Out of sheer shock your revolver slipped from your hand. Damnit! You tried to drown out the clattering of your weapon with an awkward cough. “My dear” he started and you turned around to follow the direction of his finger. You now stood one step ahead of him and couldn’t see him. “Would you like to visit a show with me?” In that moment you heard him shuffle behind you. Bewildered, you turned around and everything went black.

Arthur came back to camp after successfully rescuing Sean from those bounty hunters in Blackwater with Charles, Javier and Trelawny. He was dead tired and just wanted to eat something and go straight to bed. As he dismounted his horse, he went directly to get some stew and grab a bottle. Along his way, he was greeted with a well done here and there. Arthurs eyes wandered around camp, searching for you but you were nowhere to be found. It wasn’t strange for you to be absent; you often went to look for jobs and therefore were away for some days. Nevertheless, he was a bit disappointed to not be able to talk to you. The both of you hadn’t really had the chance to properly speak, especially not about your situation. He was so goddamn afraid of what was to come, of what you had done to him – he had opened his heart for you unwillingly and wasn’t sure if he could handle another proper relationship. What if you left him? What if one day you woke up and decided that he wasn’t what you wanted anymore. He couldn’t deal with another heart break.

After Arthur finished his stew, he went directly to bed. This night a welcome party for Sean was set to be celebrated and he just wanted to close his eyes a little bit before that. After some hours of more or less peaceful sleep – after all the party was being prepared and people were rummaging everywhere in camp – Arthur finally got up and let his eyes wander around camp in search for you again. “They aren’t here. Karen told me earlier.” Arthur looked to his left from where that characteristic voice came from. “Marston.” Arthur greeted him before John continued. “They went to scout for any leads in Valentine.” Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. Was it really that obvious to others? He decided to play dumb in hopes that he’d eventually be left alone. “I don’t know what you mean. Am not looking for anyone.” John smirked knowingly as he countered. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. Don’t you dare to think I’m stupid. I have eyes, Morgan and I know you pretty well.” Arthur sighed, slightly nodding. “Yeah, whatever.”

The celebration was pretty fun. Almost the whole gang was gathered around the campfire, singing songs away happily. These were the times in which Arthur almost forgot that they were actually running from the law. Of course, they had done that before but it never seemed as bad as it was now. Blackwater left a stain on everyone in one way or another, Colter wasn’t much better for regaining strength. His rock, though, has always been you. Since he’s gotten to know you, you always were able to calm him down, ease his nerves and see right through him no matter how inaccessible he tried to appear. You weaseled your way right into his heart. Although your way of life was a dangerous one, he knew deep down that you two were somehow meant for each other – understanding each other on a level he’s never had with anyone before.

As the night went on, Arthur’s mind always wandered back to you. He just wasn’t able to get you out of his head for even one goddamn night. Soon, he said his goodbyes and went to his tent, writing down his thoughts first before finally retiring to bed. By midday the following day you still weren’t in camp and Arthur started to worry, a bad feeling creeping up on him. Should he go search for you? No one knew how long you’d be gone. But even if you were just at the saloon or wherever it wouldn’t hurt to check in on you. Maybe you two would even be able to spend some quality time together after everything that has happened.

Soon after, Arthur mounted his horse and rode off, shortly after arriving in Valentine. Where should he start to search for you? Maybe the saloon? After all, it was so to say the heart of the town. If here was going on anything, he’d find his answers in there. After arriving at the facility, he immediately recognized your horse. So, they’re here, he thought to himself. Relieved, he finally swung the doors open and headed towards the bar. His eyes roamed the room, but found you nowhere. That struck him odd. You wouldn’t ever leave your horse behind somewhere. Just as Arthur sat down at the bar, the bartender spoke up. “Oh no, not you again mister. I don’t want any more trouble in here.” Arthur sighed, before replying. “I’m not here to cause trouble mister. I’m actually looking for a friend of mine. Have you seen them?” Arthur gave the man behind the bar a brief description of you and looked at him expectantly after he finished. The bartender seemed to think about it for a moment, before saying “Oh my memory isn’t the best, Mister. Maybe a little tip of yours could help it.” Arthur groaned and rolled his eyes while reaching in his bag to throw some coins towards the man behind the bar, adding “Now spit it” with gritted teeth. “Thank you. Well, I have indeed seen them in here. Yesterday they spoke to a man, seemed pretty cozied up, flirting the whole night. They left together, too. Seemed to go towards the hotel.” “Anything else?” Arthur asked. “No, not really. It’s just… That man that was with them yesterday seemed fairly strange. I didn’t have a good feeling with him. I can’t explain it really, but he was rather sinister.” Arthur thanked the man, before heading outside to try and track your footprints. He knew that you wouldn’t go with a man into his hotel room just like that, at least not to actually engage with him. You just weren’t the type for something like this. Hopefully, Arthur could track you down quickly. He didn’t have a good feeling in this.

As you slowly came back to your senses, your head practically screamed at you. It hurt like hell. What happened? You forced your eyes open and although the room was dimly lit, you tried to take in your environment. Where am I? So many questions came crushing down on you all at once as you tried to comprehend what you were seeing around you. While examining your surroundings, your eyes landed on the wall. There were many reports of missing persons. Where the hell am I? Letting your eyes travel further, the next thing they saw was blood. A whole lot of blood. Everywhere. And was that… a corpse in the corner? I need to get out of here immediately. You thought terrified and tried to move, but didn’t get away. You were tied up. God damn it! Your movements seemed to attract the attention of something or someone else in there. So, I’m not alone in here. You didn’t know whether that soothed your nerves or made everything worse. Just in that moment a voice from somewhere near sounded. “Oh good, you’re finally awake.”

Arthur finally arrived near the stables where your tracks ended, your horse in tow as well. Hmm, seems like someone was dragged from here to a horse. He examined the surrounding ground as he suddenly saw something shiny near one of the barrels. As he got closer to the object, his mouth fell slightly agape while his brows furrowed simultaneously. It was your revolver, he recognized it immediately. It had a special engraving he bought you while out in Blackwater. You two had to grab some ammunition for a job beforehand and as you saw the engraving you were thrilled. It looked so pretty. Seeing you all excited, Arthur wanted you to have something nice reminding you of him that you always took with you – no matter where you went. So, it was even more concerning finding it laying here with you nowhere in sight. What happened to you?

You knew that voice. This couldn’t be… Or could it be the man from the saloon? Just as you tried to recall the events from the night before, the man came into sight. You turned your head to look at him, letting your eyes wander from his face further down to his hands. They held something shiny in them. Finally recognizing that it was a huge knife, your eyes widened in shock and you gulped audibly, starring at him blankly. “Lowry.” You managed to get out between gritted teeth, your voice sounding too hoarse to really sound mad. “Welcome to my most favorite place in the world. Save yourself thinking what is about to happen. Now, I’m not going to lie. It’s not going to be nice… and fun. I mean, it will be fun for me, but it won’t be nice for you. At least, no one’s found it nice so far. Maybe you’ll be the first.” Lowry laughed maniacally, before he continued. “Do you like pain? Is it your friend? It’s about to become your very close friend. Very close. But when it’s over…release. Glorious release. Now, there’s no point fighting. You might as well try and relax a little bit.” Lowry approached you slowly, looking almost peaceful while you wanted to scream, scratch his eyes out, just do anythingto escape the upcoming hell awaiting you. As Lowry moved the huge knife slowly closer and closer towards your torso, a thought came to your mind. It was one single thought that hadn’t occurred to you up until now; you weren’t going to make it out alive of here and you wouldn’t ever see your family or Arthur ever again. You were tied up too strong to escape. As the realization hit you, you let your desperate tears fall freely – hopefully he wouldn’t stretch it out too long and you didn’t have to suffer too much.

Arthur had a bad feeling, a really bad feeling about this. Something just wasn’t right. Things weren’t adding up. You’d never leave your two most precious things somewhere voluntarily. Something had happened to you and Arthur was determined to find out what that was, to find you above all. Hopefully alive. He thought to himself but pushed that thought away quickly. He couldn’t stand to think something like this. After all, you could handle yourself pretty well, right? Arthur had seen you many times shoot yourself out of a dicey situation. You were smart, not taking too many risks. But no matter what he knew about you, he knew just as certainly that this time something went the wrong way. He tried to track the hoofbeats up to a door on the ground. Maybe an entrance to a cellar? He thought to himself with his stomach dropping to the floor.

Arthur examined the door closely, eventually discovering the locket on it. He took a steadying breath, before attempting to crack it. His hands were shaking, he was so afraid of what he’d find behind that damn door. Just as he leaned closer towards the door and the lock to start cracking it, he heard a bloodcurdling scream from inside the cellar. Was that your voice? Oh damn, yes, that sounded definitely like you. His first thought was that he’d kill that bastard causing these sounds to escape from your lips. His second thought, though, was Thank God, you’re alive. As he finally was able to enter the room, he could hear heavy panting. He didn’t waste any time looking around, heading straight towards the source of the sounds. As you saw him, your eyes widened, shaking your head frantically. Your mouth was stuffed with some sort of white cloth, so you couldn’t speak to him. This is a trap! You wanted to scream at him. Arthur looked at you with a deep sadness in his eyes – and adoration. You looked like a complete mess. Everywhere on you was blood. Lowry cut along your torso and beat you, resulting in a black eye and a burst open lip. But nonetheless, Arthur had that look on him that he just gave you – a special soft one. It let the tears well up in you even more than before, now crying desperately.

Arthur couldn’t believe it. You were alive, but only barely. You looked like you went through hell and you probably been there for the last hours. How long have you been down here? At that thought, guilt overcame him completely. While he was in camp sleeping, partying with his family, you were being tortured and bearing unspeakable torment. How could he have been so dumb? He should’ve listened to his gut feeling, searching for you earlier. He sprinted towards you and wanted to free you from your bonds, beginning with your mouth. “Are you alright?” He asked you concerned, before looking you up and down for any deep wounds. “It’s- It’s a-“ you tried to answer him, but your throat was sore from all the screaming and the lack of fluids.

Arthur heard something behind him, a slight movement, but enough to cause him to turn around pretty quickly. Too quickly for Lowry, who hadn’t expected that. Lowry stumbled slightly back, hitting the wall with his back. Arthur took advantage of the confusion of his opposer and hit him hard, once, twice. Arthur was so furious. How dare that man to do something like this to you? How dare he touch you at all? All these thoughts were crushing down on him, altogether with his guilt about not being able to protect you. He beat him up, again and again and again. It was almost as if his fists moved alone by now. “Arthur, stop!” He heard your raspy voice, breaking with every syllable and it brought him back to reality. Lowry was knocked out and didn’t move anymore. Arthur shook his head as if shaking all those thoughts off for now. He tied Lowry up quickly, before rushing to you to finally free you for good. As you were finally free, you basically fell in Arthurs arms and just started to cry. It was a mixture of everything – pain, fear, but also relief and gratitude. Arthur helped you up the stairs and lifted you up on his horse. After that he sprinted back to get Lowry and loaded him on your horse and finally mounted behind you in his horse.

The way to the Sherriff’s office was quiet. No one said a word. You were sniffling and resting against Arthurs body with your eyes closed, while he soothingly rubbed circles and held you close so that you wouldn’t slip off his mount. “I’m gonna bring him in and tell the Sheriff where to find that damn cellar and after that, I’ll finally bring you home. Just wait here a second. I’ll be back in a moment.” You nodded slightly, hoping it wouldn’t take too much time. You just wanted to head back to camp and sleep it all off.

After a short time, you heard a shot from the office. Your eyes widened in shock and your heart started to thump heavy in your chest. What was happening in there? After a few moments, Arthur finally came out again. “That bastard tried to kill the Sheriff. I had to shoot him.” You just nodded, sighing relieved, while looking him up and down for any injuries. “I’m fine. Now, let’s get you back home.”

The last few days have gone by in a blur. After you arrived back in camp, Ms. Grimshaw tended to your wounds and you were on a good way. Arthur hadn’t left your side all this time – bringing you stew, a coffee or just keeping you company. He wouldn’t even sleep in his own tent, always staying with you on a chair next to your kot. Today was the first time in days that you felt like you could walk around a bit – and you desperately needed it. Being trapped all those days in camp was making you go crazy. “Arthur, would you mind taking a walk with me?” you asked him. He seemed to contemplate for a moment. Shouldn’t you go easy a few more days and rest? “Arthur, please. I’m gonna go mad if I have to stay here for another day. Just a small walk along the shore. You’re with me, so what could possibly happen to me?” That question stung a bit. He couldn’t protect you before, why were you still feeling so safe with him? Nonetheless, Arthur finally agreed, offering you his arm to support you just in case you felt weaker again.

As the two of you arrived at the little beach, you held tightly onto his arm. You never wanted to let go. Coming to a halt, you two turned to watch the water. So peaceful. “You know...” you started, breathing in and out. “When I was trapped back there in that cellar, I really thought I wouldn’t make it. I thought that the last things I’d ever see would be blood on the walls and that bastards face with that devilish grin. I was so mad at myself for not listening to my gut feeling, for being so goddamn stupid, that I kinda felt like I deserved it. I thought that the last thing I’d hear would be that maniac’s laugh or my own screams. I thought that I’d never see daylight again, flowers, my family or you. Before that happened, I thought you were avoiding me or that you maybe thought that this kiss back in Blackwater was a mistake.” At that his head snapped towards you, watching you intently before you continued. “And I had regrets. Not about the kiss, of course, but about not telling you how I truly felt about you Arthur. I love you; I really do. I couldn’t bear not seeing you again. It broke my heart.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you thought back to your personal hell, Lowry’s most favorite place as he called it. This thought struck a nerve inside you, his voice echoing those exact words. Your tears started to fall freely by now and a chocked sound escaped your mouth. “I really thought I lost you, Arthur. I thought I lost against him. After all this time running, it would be a failed lead that had the power to end me.” You cried and just couldn’t stop. Arthur embraced you, pulling you tightly against him as if he never wanted to let you go again. While holding you like this, he said. “When I came back from rescuing Sean, I was disappointed you weren’t in camp. When you weren’t there for the welcome party I started to worry. But when I saw your horse outside of the saloon and you weren’t nowhere in sight, I panicked and freaked out. I knew you’d never leave him behind. I was so desperate to find you and just so goddamn afraid. Afraid, I’d never see you again. That I’d lost you while I was back at camp relaxing. I wasn’t able to protect you, eating and sleeping while you were being tortured. That image of you tied up, covered in blood just won’t leave my mind. Maybe if I went to look for you earlier, you didn’t have to endure all this. I couldn’t protect you and I’ll never forgive myself for that and I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

You slightly leaned back to look him in the eyes that were filled with so much sorrow and guilt, it made your heart ache. “Arthur” you began, while cupping his cheek with your hand, the other still holding tightly onto him. “This wasn’t your fault, do you hear me? There isn’t any chance in the world you could’ve prevented this. You know I normally can handle myself; it was a job gone terribly wrong. If anything, you saved me. You saved my life – I owe you my life, Arthur. Don’t you dare put this burden on your shoulders. I never asked you to come along with me, I went alone and I knew that something could happen. Believe me, this wasn’t your fault, not at all. Lowry did kidnap me, not you. He mistreated me, not you. He used his knife to hurt me, not you. Even if you had been there earlier, he still would’ve had more than enough time with me alone. Please believe me when I say, that there is nothing I have to forgive you. And there isn’t anything you have to forgive yourself. You couldn’t have changed this in any way. I should’ve listened to my sentiment. He had something strange about him from the beginning. But he told me that he was rich so I went for it nonetheless. “

Arthur still wasn’t fully convinced, but seemed more at peace – at least for the moment. “I really thought I lost you and I never want to lose you again. Back in Blackwater, I was so damn afraid of what we had but now I can’t get into my head how foolish that was of me. I love you, too, so damn much. And if you’ll still have me, would you want to be mine?” You were smiling through your tears, as you nodded and finally kissed Arthur the second time in your life. This time, though, with more certainty than ever before.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x gn!reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x y/n #reader insert #mywriting #mine #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #edmund lowry jr.#rdr2 community #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fandom

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verai-marcel · 3 years ago

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Forever and Always (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x F!Reader)

Summary: You reminisce about your life and have a sweet moment with your family.

Author’s Notes: I was listening to a podcast about wedding dress design and got inspired.

Tags: pure fluff, Arthur x F!Reader

Word Count: 1644

AO3 Link is right here, darlin’.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Twenty-five years.

A quarter of a century.

Funny how time flies, and all of a sudden you're nearly fifty years old. Looking back, you can see the crazy turn of events in your life like some kind of movie, detached and yet feeling every single emotion as if you were there in that moment.

***

Fresh out of college, you remembered the night you found your partner sleeping with your roommate. The white hot rage and cold grip of disbelief sent you fleeing into the rain, into the streets, into a bar in the middle of the night. As you meandered between sadness and anger, a bartender had given you a cold glass of orange juice, soda water, and a bit of ice, with a shot of grenadine.

"Here ya go, sweetheart. On the house."

You had looked up and drowned in eyes the color of volcanic springs, finding the same warmth and comfort in his kind gaze. Taking a cautious sip of the drink, you found it to be the perfect drink, not too sweet, and took your time savoring it.

"What brings you here tonight?" he had asked.

After a moment of silence, he held up his hand. "You don't need to tell me if you don't want to."

He leaned in close. "But I'm happy to listen, whenever yer ready."

His sweet smile undid you, and you poured out your heart. He seemed to nod along with your story, as a stranger would, but there was a steadily growing fire in his eyes. After a while, after a few interruptions from other customers ordering drinks, you had finished venting, nursing the last of your drink and debating what your next move should be.

"Alright folks, last call!" the bartender shouted. A few people came up and got one last drink before he started to clean up.

"Well, thank you for listening to me," you said, dropping a tip on the bar. "I really appreciate it."

"I didn't catch yer name."

You told him.

He smiled. "I'm Arthur. Could… could ya wait a bit? I'll walk you home."

You slumped. "I don't want to go home."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at you. "Where were you goin' to go, then?"

You shrugged. "Walk around until sunrise, I guess. Not feeling sleepy."

He tilted his head as he observed you. After a few moments, he shook his head. "If you don't mind, you can come sleep on my couch. You need some rest, darlin'."

"Um…" As sweet as he was, you had just met him.

Arthur pulled out a pen and scribbled something on the back of a bar coaster before giving it to you. "Here's my address. You send it to someone you trust, so they know where you are."

Touched by his offer and his understanding of your hesitation, you agreed. You texted his address to your best friend who lived a city away and told her that you were staying with a new friend and that you'd call her in the morning and tell her everything.

Then you waited until Arthur was done with his shift and followed him home.

***

That was years ago. He had helped you deal with the whole situation with your ex-significant other and ex-roommate. He stood outside as backup while you confronted the two of them and told them that you were leaving. Then you found yourself temporarily moving in with Arthur, bunking on his sleeper sofa for a couple of weeks while you searched for another place to live.

And then you slept in his bed. And your temporary move became permanent.

Life continued. You slept together, in the adult sense of the term. You got pregnant. You dated. You gave birth. He proposed. You got married. He finished college. You became the breadwinner while he worked part time and took care of your daughter.

Nothing went in the 'normal' order of things, but what was normal, anyway?

Looking at the photos of your wonderful daughter when she was a small child, you smiled as you heard the doorbell ring.

"Hey Mom!"

"Hi Avery!" You greeted her with a warm hug. She was twenty-three now, working hard during her first year out of college. You got to see her a couple times a month, and each visit made you smile, no matter how grumpy she might be.

Today the two of you were just hanging out, having tea and going through some of the old boxes in the attic, when she pulled out an old scrapbook.

"Wow, didn't know you did scrapbooking."

"I didn't, I only made one for my wedding."

Together the two of you looked through your silly notes and hand picked photos, telling her the story behind each one, and who each person was.

"Do you still have your wedding dress?" she asked after seeing the photos of you and Arthur, dressed up in a tuxedo that barely fit his broad shoulders.

"I do, somewhere."

After some time searching, you found it, brushed it off, and held it up to your body. "I don't think it'll fit, I've gotten a bit wider since I wore it."

"C'mon Mom, just try it!"

Smiling, the two of you went to your bedroom and you managed to shove yourself mostly into the dress. Except for the shoulders.

"I've gotten more buff," you joked as you pulled the dress off yourself. "You try it."

Avery took the dress, stared at it for a moment, and with your help, pulled it on. It looked like it fit, until she moved her arms.

The sound of a seam ripping made you both pause.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry–"

You patted her shoulder. "It's fine, sweetie. It's just a dress, it can be fixed. And you look beautiful in it."

Your daughter grinned, and you could see Arthur's eyes and smile on her face.

After she spun around a few times, she took it off and handed it back to you. Out of curiosity, you checked which seams had torn.

"It might fit you now," Avery joked.

"Sure, why not?"

You pulled it back on, and sure enough, the seams that had torn were the very ones stopping you from fitting your thicker arms through. You turned around and looked in the mirror. Twirling around a bit, you suddenly felt young again, remembering the first time you had tried this dress. Your two closest friends had been by your side, encouraging you to buy the dress because you were so pleased with it.

And you remembered the last time you had worn this dress, walking down the aisle with Arthur, hand in hand, the two of you grinning at each other as if there was nothing else in the world, just the two of you, happily in love.

"Let's take some photos outside!" Avery suggested, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm.

Smiling at your daughter, you walked through your house and out to the small backyard that Arthur lovingly cared for, with a small waterfall and herb garden.

He was there, kneeling in the dirt, planting some new basil plants. He turned around at the sound of the back door opening.

"What're you two doin'–"

Arthur's words stopped abruptly as his jaw dropped. He hadn't seen you in that dress since the wedding, and for him, time stopped and all he saw was his beautiful lady, dressed in white, smiling like a goddess.

He quickly washed his hands with the garden hose, wiped them on his jeans, and came towards you.

"Beautiful, just like an angel," he said in awe.

You went to him, holding your hands out to him. He took them and brought them close to his heart before lifting your hands to his lips and kissing your fingers oh so so tenderly.

"Amazin', I feel the same as I did on our weddin' day, seein' you like this."

"I'm a little wider now…"

"That don't matter none," he said, leaning closer to you. His forehead touched yours and he looked into your eyes. "Yer always lovely."

"Awww!"

Avery's exclamation brought the two of you back to reality. She had her phone out and had been taking photos of the two of you, a giant grin on her face.

"I'll send these to you later, after I touch them up a bit," she said. "I, uh, got an errand to run. Bye Dad, bye Mom, I'll catch you later!"

She left, giving you a conspiratorial wink. You looked back at Arthur to find that his eyes hadn't left you for a single moment.

He was in his late fifties now, streaks of grey in his hair, giving him a sophisticated appearance. He smiled much more these days, finding happiness in tending his small garden and being outside in the sunlight. He was still strong, still broad shouldered, but he had filled out a little from your delicious home cooked meals.

And he still looked at you like you were his entire world.

"Should we go inside?" you asked with a mischievous smirk.

"I got mud on me," he said, although he didn't resist when you pulled him into the house.

"I'll get you all clean," you said. "Then we can get dirty."

"Darlin'," he said as if he was chastising you, yet he was chuckling softly as he let you lead the way.

***

That night, looking at the photos Avery had emailed, you realized how the two of you appeared, so deep in love. You both looked younger in her photos, and you wondered if it was because of the photo editing.

Showing Arthur, he just smiled and kissed your cheek, his whiskers scraping your skin lightly as he nuzzled you.

"See? Told you my feelin's fer you would never change." He pulled you into his arms and held you close.

"You'll always be my shinin' star."

--------------------

End Notes: I started with a small idea and it kinda got longer. Oops.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #RDR2 fanfic #arthur x fem!reader #Writing #Fanfic #Fluff

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strandsofgold · 3 years ago

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okay, so, i'm gonna try something out. i think i might have more motivation to finish my fics if i know there is at least one person who might want me to do just that. like, if i know there is at least one person who might want to read a fic i'm working on, then i'm just more likely to have motivation for finishing it.

so, i've written the title, a few tags, and a vague description of the fic, along with a line of dialogue, for each of the 15 different rdr2 fics i'm currently working on.

if you go through this and find one you think you might like to read, i would be eternally grateful if you wrote on this post or sent me an ask or something and told me which one <3

shades of green – arthur & tilly, character study, fluff: tilly asks arthur to take her to the tailor to buy a dress and meets a very handsome lawyer in the process.

“It’s just, I haven’t left camp in so long. Except for… you know.”

how does one go about getting a dog – arthur & hosea & dutch, fluff, humour, pre-canon: arthur gets a friend in an unconventional way. dutch is easily swayed. hosea is not.

“But Hosea!”

like she's lost – tilly & everyone, character study, hurt & comfort, hurt & no comfort, growing up, pre-canon, canon, post-canon, angst: tilly's life in the van der linde gang from beginning to end, and then a little bit after. everything she's gained and lost.

“You have grown up to be a fine woman.”

rings and hairpins – tilly & dutch, character study, pre-canon, fluff – tilly tries to donate her mother's hairpin to camp. dutch refuses to accept it and tells her about his rings.

“But they hold more value than that. They are special to me.”

up north – arthur & charles or arthur/charles (can be read either way), pre-canon, character study: charles goes on a ride with arthur, their first ride together, at the request of dutch, and charles finds he quite likes arthur's company.

“I’m not much company.”

like father, like son – arthur & hosea, arthur & dutch, arthur & hosea & dutch, pre-canon, character study : hosea does not believe it is a good idea to keep young, 14 year old arthur morgan around. surely, he will be more trouble than he is worth. he's also strange; violent and decent all at once.

“I know I haven’t exactly been keen on you joining us, but–“

with lilies in hand – arthur/mary, past hosea/bessie, character study, pre-canon, romance, break-ups, arranged marriage, miscommunication: arthur courts mary over the course of a few years. they are the best years of his life, culminating in his worst.

“Good thing people can change, huh.”

come home with me – hosea & dutch or hosea/dutch (can be read either way), pre-canon, character study, based on how orpheus and eurydice meet in hadestown: hosea attempts robs an unsuspecting man, who not only turns out to be very suspecting, but also turns out be strange, naive, and crazy. he makes hosea's insides twist. for once, it's not because of hunger.

"I'm the man you're gonna spend the rest of your life with."

money making – susan & karen, humour, crack (kinda): on the hottest day of the year, the members of the van der linde gang keep hearing strange noises. must be the heat getting to their heads.

“And how, pray tell, does this make us money?”

fiona and molly – implied/referenced molly/dutch, pre-canon, character study, hurt & no comfort: fiona o'shea finds a letter her cousin molly has received from the mysterious tacitus kilgore, and is so distraught by what she reads that she decides to confront molly about it.

“Why all this secrecy? Have you thought about what his secret reasons may be?”

hey, stranger – implied/referenced arthur & hosea & dutch, stranger mission, character study (kinda): arthur meets a woman who somehow reminds him of hosea and dutch all at once. she asks him to look for two boys who have run away from her.

“Jonathan! Aaron! Boys! Please come back! I do not have time for games!”

auntie – sadie & abigail or sadie/abigail (can be read either way), sadie & jack, camp interactions, fluff: sadie helps with jack's reading lessons while hosea is away doing business. both abigail and jack are grateful for her assistance.

“You did good, Jack.”

untitled – arthur & eliza, pre-canon, pregnancy, compromises: eliza does not expect arthur morgan to show up after she sent him her letter. when he does, however, the conversation they have is as tense as it is relieving.

“I ain’t no kind of father.”

untitled – tilly & jack, tilly & arthur, tilly & abigail, angst, hurt & comfort: after their goodbye with arthur, tilly and jack anxiously wait for what comes next. neither are sure they will ever see arthur, nor abigail again.

"Where is mama?"

untitled – humour, crack, dirty jokes, pre-canon: the men of the gang take a bath by a river away from camp. newly joined member sean macguire cannot help but comment on arthur's... physique after seeing him naked for the first time.

"Jesus, Morgan, be careful not to hit anyone with that thing."

#do not reblog please <3 #this is long but i don't want to put it under a read more #so let's just keep this on my blog #my writing

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reddeadreference · 3 years ago

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Blog Progress Update (Not so Low-Honor Blog #4)

Drafts: 65 - Queue: 60

Finish Dates (as in last post of the category will be posted on the day specified)

New Hanover Gazette - April 29th

Chapter 6 - April 30th

Epilogue Part 1 - May 10th

Blackwater Ledger - May 13th

Epilogue Part 2 - May 22nd

Saint Denis Times - May 27

Point of Interests - May 27th

Not really low honor blogging anymore cause I’m into the Epilogue.

I’ve realized how to get certain scenes without having to replay the entire game so many times. If I save before each mission, use a cheat to lower honor all the way (cause I need a certain newspaper to raise it all the way) get that version of the scene then reload with no cheat on and get the opposite. I’ll be able to make the posts/videos quicker this way.

(If I had known I’d be getting the cutscenes recorded I wouldn’t have to replay so many times but I have none of the scenes from chapters 1-4 soo… oh well At least chapter 1 is all the same which like maybe two small changes depending on hunting first or Kieran first.

More opportunities to get more photos and everything else. Plus I only need Strangers missions for John and for Arthur once each it’s only main missions I need so many times cause honor doesn’t affect strangers I don’t think.

In epilogue part 1

I both understand and don’t understand Abigail being angry at the end of “Jim Milton Rides Again?” Like… John Boss told him to get his guns. Geddes doesn’t care as long as John helps. Like I understand she wants John to give that life up but John’s right “What choice do I have?”

Part 2

Oof hearing Charles and john talk about low honor Arthur… but also Charles just ran over like two people in the getaway XD

But this also tells me in order to get all the proper dialogue I’m going to have to complete the epilogue’s first part more than once to get the other versions of it.

Honor doesn’t effect John like it did Arthur so I only need the convos about Arthur and doing diff missions in diff order (like sadie before uncle and vise versa at the end of Ep 1)

I noticed something, Mr Wayne said “I didn’t think they’d attack.” So does that mean he SAW them in the woods? Or that he just didn’t think the Skinner Brothers would attack them in general?

Dutch… “Same as you… I suppose.” Like.. he KNOWS we’re here to kill Micah… so… he basically says he’s gonna kill Micah right away, right?… but also Micah says they’re teaming up again… meaning this is also the first time Micah’s seen Dutch again after all these years?

Okay anyways I got the Ep missions all recorded and there’s only two places where honor determines dialogue in the first and last mission of part 2 which I can get to with a previous high honor chapter 6 save so that’s no problem.

Listening to the credits as I do stuff now.

Okay, so I didn’t buy a single newspaper and apparently I can’t get all three versions at once. If I buy the first of one the other two are gone. SO, I did a save reload thing to check all the default articles so when I replay and get all the Arthur stuff (cause I hadn’t recorded those) I’ll get the added articles. They don’t get added if I do the things as John unfortunately.

Soon I’ll have all POI and newspapers done and queued so I can start on the cutscene posts. I’ll have a handful or more done by the time the mission posts are done in the queue. I’ll get some character posts going (outfit details, location details, etc.) starting with the Van Der Linde gang. I still need to finish the chapter 4-6 camp posts but that’s just more a matter of putting them together.

I need to 100% the Colter posts first so I can make the navigation for the app work. So I’m gonna work on that, I have the queue set for more than a week so it’s not like I’m rushing -

Okay did the first 1 and a half missions before I just googled rdr2 transcripts and found someone else already did the entire game BUT they didn’t get added or alternative lines (as in they played one way and just wrote that down but didn’t write down choices or extended lines). I’m only gonna copy the dialogue, not the descriptions they wrote, it’ll be the same as me typing it from watching the cutscenes only it’s not gonna take me over a year. Like I said, they didn’t get all optional dialogue or alternative lines so I’ll add in those. I also don’t think they did Stranger missions.

I’ll have a link to the original page <- here as well as probably either on the disclaimer/credits page(I’m gonna add credits to the disclaimer page) or on the page for cutscenes. Because considering it took THEM over a year… I REALLY don’t wanna have to pause and type and pause and type over and over again just for the cutscene posts.

I’ll do the video stuff myself. I’m going to post the first missions cutscene and transcript asap just to show how the rest will look. (and again cause I need to finish the Colter page)

I should have Chapter 1′s first mission done within a couple hours it won’t take long. I’ll do like I’ve done before, upload them to my YouTube channel to have them on the blog (cause the videos would be WAY too big to just post to tumblr alone).

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #blog progress update

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hoseas-angry-ghost · 3 years ago

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okay so. who is the strange man. literally i have NEVER seen or heard of him before u started talking. I’m Intrigued About Your Mans

Anon, you know my love language... I will Tell You About My Mans...

I thought I'd write a small guide ~*with spoilers!*~ because I think quite a few people are unfamiliar with the Strange Man? Also I have too much time on my hands:

RDR1

- First appeared in a Stranger mission called I Know You. John encounters him three times, and in two of those encounters the Strange Man issues him with a task that has a good choice and a bad choice -- good choices are here, bad choices here. (I'd recommend watching one of the vids before you go further!) The Strange Man makes a lot of cryptic comments and knows personal info about John, like his name and his involvement at Blackwater, but John struggles to identify who he is or where he knows him from. We also don't ever get an actual name for him -- "the strange man" is just how the in-game text usually refers to him. In the final encounter, it's revealed that the Strange Man wasn't actually a man at all but some kind of supernatural entity, and the tasks weren't tasks but moral tests.

- People went apeshitt, theories circulated for years as to who he was really supposed to be and what he wanted with John. Popular theories were/are that he's God, Satan or Death, but you can find all sorts of takes if you poke around.

RDR2

- Gets a cameo appearance at Bayall Edge in Bayou Nwa, which he maybe owns? Or has possessed somehow? IDK how supernatural real estate works. Anyway, there's a painting in there that gradually changes until it's eventually revealed to be a portrait of the Strange Man, and this also happens. (For ~yet unknown~ reasons, only John can see this and the finished portrait, not Arthur.)

- Bayall Edge also has paintings that change depending on the player's Honour level, some landscapes that depict the I Know You locations where John runs into the Strange Man in RDR1, writing on the walls, a poem carved into a table about Jimmy Brooks (different depending on if Arthur saved or killed him), and generally odd bric-a-brac. And human skulls! And blood on the floor! Cool cool cool

- Herbert Moon has a small portrait of the Strange Man in his shop that he gets shifty about, and he's apparently immune to all the outbreaks of disease that have plagued the town over the years. There's also a bloodstained plan of Armadillo at Bayall Edge with the writing "I OFFERED YOU HAPPINESS OR TWO GENERATIONS. YOU MADE YOUR CHOICE." The implication is that Moon made some kind of deal with the Strange Man (although his choice is left ambiguous), and the consequences -- intentional or unintentional -- are that Moon is immortal and Armadillo is cursed.

- A camper you can run into talks about Armadillo and local Strange Man sightings here.

- People have speculated that Trelawny is linked to the Strange Man somehow because of how similar they look, the Strange Man's knowledge of John, and John feeling like he knew the Strange Man from somewhere, but aside from hints that Trelawny is kind of weird and otherworldly no one ever found a solid link. R* was probably just trolling but WHO KNOWS

- There's a fun theory that the Strange Man was Jimmy Brooks, testing Arthur in disguise

BONUS:

- The cast talk about fan theories, some Strange Man-related. Rob Wiethoff kills me every time ("But also like... you know...")

#Marge voice: I just think he's neat #I could've written more but #I didn't want to ramble too much #I have my own theories about things but those are like #whole other posts lmao #Deets on request OF COURSE #The Strange Man #inbox

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meowdymista · 3 years ago

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For my first RDR2 event, I was paired with @sunspott / @polybigbang. Their art was for a playlist on spotify called Going’s All We Know, and I’ve tried to incorporate the mood of the playlist into my first impression of the art.

You can read my submission on AO3 or follow through with the read more :)

Still No Rest

Feet are itching again, plus it ain't like we can stick around much longer. Going is all we know, even if we ain't got nowhere else left.

Things had been too steady of late. They had been too safe, had slipped away far too easily, had pulled moneybags out of places that should have fought back but hadn't even batted an eye.

Arthur pushes back his hair, greasy and long, off his brow. The clouds above are smoky and dark - a storm, just as anticipated.

Maybe he jumped a little too far too fast today. Maybe if he hadn't been so on edge waiting for something to go wrong, they could have deescalated the situation. Maybe lives could have been spared, but it’s not like the guilt isn’t scratching the ridges of his brain like a dusty gramophone needle.

What makes you any different? You who's always scraping for a scrap of some sort. Them trying to do the right thing and crossing your path to do it. Better you than them, right? Like Daddy always said, if they didn’t want to die they should mind their own business.

A new start: isn't that what they had promised themselves? A new state, a new town, a new camp: a clean slate that he had managed to bloody in a record three days.

Every bullet that screamed past his ear left his bones ringing with that too familiar dull tired ache. Every blade that snagged his clothes instead of his skin embittered him. The tiniest of voices hummed with the thought that maybe, maybe, he should fight that craving for carelessness and even tell someone about it… but the beast he’s become scowls and reminds him with a low growl that then they would stop him. They would take him off the front line, teach the gangly adolescent John - who is a far worse shot - to replace him.

It's not even jealousy really, he reasons as he slips his journal away and stretches into a stand. They need him. Need his gun, his eye, his blade. Worrying them isn’t an option, especially right now. He doesn’t need to make them doubt his reliability, or question whether they’ve misplaced their trust. He knew in his heart that if anyone in the gang confessed the same, he would refuse their gun, even if he needed it - and afterwards? In the weeks, months, years to come? He would always pick someone else. Someone less vulnerable. Someone he never doubted or needed to protect.

Which is how he ended up going out with the feller Dutch had picked up when they were up North. He’s had a few too many close shaves under Hosea’s watchful eye of late as he struggled to conceal the beast's rearing head. The old man was onto him, his brown eyes still boring into him, even after Copper found his way to him.

Bill, on the other hand, is always game for a ruckus. He has as much of a temper as he does, and can match him drink for drink. Some of the stories he lets slip prickle him - like the beast recognising a party equal, a fellow host. He says nothing. Doesn't validate them, doesn't acknowledge them or aim to empathise, he just accepts the added weight of tar and grudges home with another bottle.

“Arthur?”

"M'tired," grunts Arthur, walking past Hosea, boots scuffing the dry red earth beneath them. “Besides, you know how it is. Sometimes bullets fly no matter what you do.”

Hosea doesn’t dignify his excuse with a response, and despite the poker face, Arthur can feel the guilt twist a little tighter in his gut as he sets about washing his arms and face in the barrel by the food reserves. He knows nothing good would come from trying to explain the truth of the situation... How a glimpse of a little boy in his peripherals is as sure a sign of upcoming thunder as lightning flashing in the distance. His not-brown-not-blond tussle of hair brushing the wind with fat drops of rain… rain that never came, leaving Arthur to water the ground with blood, like somehow it could make him feel less like he’s drowning in the driest desert outside of New Mexico.

He pats his pockets for the cigarette he had rolled earlier, until, retracing his steps mentally, he sighs in disappointment. He had been about to light it when it all kicked off. Or rather… it had been in his mouth whilst he tried to align yet another match to the tobacco when he had caught the eye of another patron and decided to swap the nicotine for some adrenaline.

His fondness for Bill always grew at moments like this. Bastard heard one cross word and his guns were out before he found his balance.

Deflated, he uncaps a beer instead, emptying it, tossing it aside and grabbing another, before spotting the girl devouring a bowl of stew a stone's throw away.

"Who's she?" he asks before Hosea can try to raise the day’s events.

"Your new ward."

Arthur stops, scoffing, growing angry when the elder doesn’t back down. "Nuh uh! No way! I just got rid of Johnny! Get Williamson to do it!"

"You'd trust him with her?"

"Sure! Why not?" He glances back at the girl despite himself. His index finger is itching again. "Or get Marston on it. Ain't like he's doing much else."

"John is still learning how to take care of himself, and Bill…"

"He ain't gonna beat up a little girl." Restless, his feet shuffle beneath him, his beer swapping hands before touching his lips again. "And ain't like he's gonna have interest in her."

"You think he wouldn't do it just to prove a point?" Their eyes meet briefly before Arthur's gaze drops. "People who are insecure are far more dangerous than those comfortable in themselves, never forget that Arthur. Besides, I'd rather not expose her to the prejudices she can get any day of the week. She ought to feel safe here, don't you think?"

He finishes the dregs and tosses the bottle, preferring to change the subject than admit he’s right. "Where’d she come from? She got any family?"

"She left her cousin back east. Came this way looking for her mother but she’d passed meanwhile."

"So… what’s the plan? We taking her back east?"

"Sure as shit you ain't!"

The girl has stepped around the table, legs planted apart, hands folded across her flat chest, her hair as free and untamed as her temperament. She is glaring something fierce, making the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end in a fight or flight instinct.

Hosea chuckles softly, eyes bright with pride. "I reckon she's one of us now."

"Well, does she have a name?" asks Arthur, incredulous.

"Jackson." She jerks her heart shaped face in a defensive greeting. "My name is Tilly Jackson."

"Well, Miss Tilly Jackson, you always so fierce?" He stalks the couple of steps to the nearest crate of whiskey and pulls one free.

"You always this stupid?"

"Hey now, Miss Jackson," interrupts Hosea before Arthur can bark. "We don't talk to each other like that here."

"He started it!"

"And you’re sitting with Mrs Matthews when you’re done so she can keep an eye on you!” He ushers her towards Bessie to keep her out of harm's way before turning back to his first product of adoption with a raised brow.

"You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

"Try coming back just half soaked some time. Might make them go easier on you."

Arthur scoffs, his rebuttal dying in his throat. He dampens the ash with another swig.

"I want you to take her with you when you go out."

His scoff is solid. "No way."

Hosea straightens up, watching him, using his body language to ask the questions.

"I ain't taking her out. You want her shot?"

"You intend to shoot her?"

"No, course not-"

"Then what's the problem?"

Arthur's eyes roll in exasperation, his finger flexing around the neck of the bottle like it's a button that will win the argument if he squeezes tight enough. "The problem is other people shooting at us."

"You intend to get shot at?"

"No, but-"

"Then I see no problem."

"That don't mean we ain't gonna get shot at!"

"Why would you get shot at?"

'Cause that's what I set out to do most days, he wants to counter. And if I ain't likely to get shot, I'm likely in jail or black out drunk in a saloon someplace.

Instead he closes his mouth, any excuse dead before it passes his lips.

"I'm not asking you to take her with you to rob a bank, Arthur." Hosea's tone is firm but still soft - a talent of his. "But while you're out looking for leads, or even looting a homestead or something… She's nifty."

"Hosea, I-" He trails off, distracted by the clip of notes Hosea is picking through, and downright thrown when he passes him the thinned out clip. "What's this for? I gettin' paid to be a nanny now?"

“This-” Hosea holds up a couple of notes before putting them in his pocket. “-is for arguing with me. This is for the box, as it seems you’ve forgotten to pay the camp's share, and this-" He casually holds out the last few dollars to the side like he’s ashing a cigarette. A small brown hand slips it away as both Hosea and little Miss Tilly regard him smugly. "Is for a mark well scammed."

"You mean-?" He checks his pockets, ears growing hot. "You son of a-"

“Ah-ah! Language!” Dutch swaggers up with a smirk like he has been watching the introduction unfold in its entirety. “C’mon, Arthur, you have to give it to her. She’s talented!”

“Might finally have picked up a smart one, eh, Dutch?” winks Hosea. Arthur scowls and turns on his heel, leaving them laughing and praising their newest addition.

****

Arthur remains cool and calm the next few days, hunting local and sticking close to camp. Every time he approaches his horse, the little girl is waiting, watching him with her fierce brown eyes.

"Where we goin', Mr Arthur?" She asks as soon as he's within earshot. "Do I need anything bringing?"

Every time he offers to pay double what Hosea has offered her, and every time she refuses to discuss the terms of their negotiation. Every time he curses everything under his breath, keeping his language savoury for the child nearby. Every time he scowls, and every time he gives her a grunt of "naw, we ain't going far" before mounting up and lifting her onto the rear.

"I can ride myself, ya know?" She shoots one morning as Arthur leads his stead into a trot away from camp, heading towards the softer, greener terrain that’s barely visible on the horizon. "Properly. Not side saddle."

"Good for you."

"If I had a horse I would show you."

"And run off with the money we got, huh."

She bristles. "I ain't no snitch."

"Sounds like somethin' a snitch would say." He pops the cork from a half full bottle of rum and takes a swig. Replacing the bottle, he notices her scrunching her nose in disdain. “Got a problem? I can take you back to camp.”

“You sure don’t drink much water,” she comments drily. “You ain’t worried ‘bout heatstroke out here?”

“Liquor’s hydrating,” he scowls, pushing the horse into a canter.

“Pretty sure it ain’t, but you do you. Besides, I got dibs on your things. We all gotta start somewhere, right?”

Arthur snorts angrily, adrenaline prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. “You sure as hell do not, princess. I ain’t going nowhere!”

Miss Jackson hums sarcastically. “Sure you ain’t. You don’t eat, don’t drink anything under forty proof, don’t talk to no one-”

“If you don’t like it, I can drop you right here!”

“Go ahead.” Her tone is defiant, but it doesn’t escape his notice that she grips his sides a little tighter. “Mr Matthews was pretty explicit about what he’d do to you if you tried.”

He stews the next mile or more, not speaking up until he finally dismounts for a break at the change of terrain.

Wide open spaces always helped to ground him, even though it could make vanishing into thin air difficult. To some extent, it forced him to not be so careless. In others, it made it easier to kid himself that he had never crossed the threshold into civilisation, let alone crossed a kind faced waitress.

Listening out for creeping cougars and restless rattlesnakes, he crouches down by the water’s side and splashes his face, washing off the worst of the sweat and dust that’s caked itself into every pore available. The girl makes no move to dismount, so he takes it upon himself to refill her canteen as a gesture of goodwill.

“You don’t got to stick to us, you know.” She turns her big brown eyes from the sky onto Arthur’s face. He shuffles his feet awkwardly, focusing his attention on brushing out the biggest clumps of dust from the horse’s mane before they continue. “If you need me to take you somewhere-”

“And what’s a girl to do then? Hit the road with a couple dollars?” She fixes him with a look that is too old for her face. “Naw, I think I’ll stay with youse a little longer.”

“That’s alright, but we’re gonna have to be moving on real soon.” He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the unspoken reminder that it’s because of him and his actions. “It ain’t like we can promise to be back up this way any time in the near future. If you change your mind-”

“I won’t change my mind about them, Mr Morgan.” She shivers in a breeze that only seems to touch her. “No, sir. They had me bound real good for real long, but I don’t need ‘em. I won my freedom, Mr Morgan, an’ I ain’t going back.”

He risks a glance, curiosity getting the better of him. Her eyes are sparkling as bright as the water's surface, but her jaw is clenched tight. He debates riding further, doing what he can to get them set up at the fishing spot Hosea had heard about as they moved through the state to their current set up, but the child looked too old. Too tired. Too existentially exhausted.

Plus, when you get low enough, it's like some things will follow wherever you go.

“Let’s stop here a while.”

As predicted, Miss Jackson double takes. “Don’t you want to get to where we’re headed?”

Arthur shrugs. “Ain’t like there ain’t food to be foraged here. Nothing to come raising any hell or bother us into raising it for them. Reckon this spot’s as good as any.”

He turns his back to her as she dismounts warily, focusing his energy on starting a small campfire they can add to.

"I ain't goin' anywhere if you wanna swim." He grimaces as his words come out gruffer than intended. "I got clean clothes in the saddle bags here if you want 'em for the trip back or to swim in even. Can't imagine that skirt is the lightest when it gets wet."

"You ain't wrong, Mr Arthur, sir. Thank you for the offer but I think I'm just gonna stick to paddling for now."

"Sure."

It's not his first choice. This land is a little too dry for his liking, but that's what comes with being so close to the desert. Money means nothing to nature, besides she provides everything and more than what shops and butchers supply. Who needs civilisation when there's the wilds to retreat into? When there is wild carrots and rhubarb aplenty, fresh meat, shelter, all for the low cost of taking what you need as you need it?

The fire started, he sets out to look for fuel and food. Crouching down to check dung and disturbances in the foliage, he finds the damage is minimal. He swears again, taking a swig of whiskey from his satchel.

He doesn't really remember a time he didn't drink, but he knows this is different. He knows this isn't a choice on his behalf. The demon demands fuel as a child demands milk, and like the fool he is, he provides without much hesitation. Anything for a glimmer of peace from the screaming child in his mind.

He scoffs at himself and straightens up, looking around on the off chance some animal is dumb enough to be caught out in the open - and as luck would have it, a pronghorn buck is grazing a stones throw away.

He inhales deeply, taking aim with newfound focus, and fires.

The pronghorn bolts, but it's no contest for the bullet soaring his way. A mournful cry bleats through the undergrowth as it flees. He follows, as loud as he likes given the rip of the shot would have blasted a warning to anything within earshot. Breaking through a wall of cacti, he spots Miss Tilly aghast in the shallows as the buck splashes into the lake he had washed up in on their arrival.

He keeps going, realising the buck is heading for a wet escape. Shedding his guns as he runs, he wades in after it, shouting.

The buck is swimming in deep water, leaving behind a trail of blood behind with every baleful bleat, leaving Arthur with no option besides taking a spur of the moment swim or going home with an empty stomach.

"C'mere!" he cries, breaking into breaststroke. The buck is slowing, every cry growing more lamenting and mournful. "Stop! I can make it stop, just come a little closer."

It's crying weakly by the time he manages to reach it. He throws an arm over its neck and fumbles for his hunting knife, but the blood proves too thick and one small fumble sends it disappearing into the depths.

"C'mon," he grunts, tugging the wounded animal with him as he kicks his way towards shore. "You ain't gonna get any lighter."

He struggles towards shore, gasping assurances every chance he gets. When his boots finally scrape the bottom, he whistles for his mount with the last of the air in his lungs.

He finally releases the animal, using both hands to search for a knife or a pistol - something to end its suffering quickly. Drowning the thing felt too callous, too slow, too-

"Will this be enough?"

Arthur, still gasping for breath, hair dripping into his blue eyes, pauses, surprised. A small hand is proferring a flip knife, her small face reflecting the distress of his own. Recovering, he nods quickly, thanking her as he takes the tool from her and advising her to look away and cover her ears. Obeying doesn’t lessen the heart wrenching last cry of the animal, but on opening her eyes again, she decides it is less painful than watching the poor thing struggle as it drowned.

Arthur is holding the animal, counting, as though held to some strange code to make sure it is dead before removing the tool of choice. He shakes the knife under the surface and folds it up, passing it back to her with a grunt of thanks. She takes it, still in shock at the unexpected show of violence.

He pushes the carcass out of the water, promising to be back soon before swimming back to where he caught the animal. Watching his head disappear under the surface, she is left with the silence of the cooling body nearby. It looks strangely peaceful staring off into the east.

Arthur swims back, pushing back the sodden mop of brown hair as he wades out with sopping boots and a shiny carving knife he must have dropped earlier. He advises her to leave him to it if she’s squeamish, and she refuses up until the animals guts plume onto the sand.

From a distance, she watches him carry them away from their makeshift camp, covering them up with some leaves and branches to disguise the worse of the mess but leave it readily available to the creatures due a feast. Returning to the body, he begins to carve with care, piling steaks onto canvas. He wastes as little as possible, even wrapping the exposed neck of the head in canvas before tying it onto the horse. He turns to the water, notices her watching and walks over.

“Reckon we’re almost done here,” he calls as he gets close enough. “Just gonna wash up and we can get going.”

“You always butcher your kill before going back?” she asks.

He huffs, a twinkle in his eye. “Sure, when I don’t plan on walking back. Figured you’d rather hitch a ride than straddle a dead deer.”

She shudders, making him laugh as he kicks off his boots and setting them aside to dry from earlier. He doesn’t remove his clothes, just pulls a bar of soap from the saddlebags and asks if she minds if he doesn’t dry off. She herself finally admits internally that she feels grubby. She had washed and washed and washed, and eventually came to accept the grime was not going to wash off her. Too much dirt, too ingrained, too repeated to ever shed properly…

She follows him, still keeping her distance. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just keeps scrubbing suds under his nails, over his forearms, into every fibre of his shirt. When she finally feels brave enough to speak up, she takes a deep breath, and on a whim decides to splash him.

He turns around, frowning, before picking up on the giggles and grinning himself. His arms are stronger, thicker, longer - the retaliation engulfs her with a responding tidal wave that leaves her gasping for air. In the small glimpse she makes of him, she notes the guilt and the apology on his lips as he believes himself having gone too far, but she’s too quick. She pushes him in the chest and tries to swim away as quick as she can, squealing the whole way.

Their laughter disturbs the birds in the branches, and they take flight, not that either of them notice. They play until the sun lowers to kiss the leaves around them. They share the bar of soap, and Tilly takes refuge in his disinterest. He lets her wash. She lets him wash. Both of them keep their distance when appropriate.

“Perhaps we oughta ride back in the morning,” Arthur muses when he notices how much she is shivering. "It's only gonna get colder, and at least we've got a fire going here."

“I don’t mind making the ride.”

He chuckles, eyes soft. “Miss Tilly. You’re dead on your feet, and sure as hell will be dead in the saddle. I can fall asleep just about anywhere if you’re alright with the tent and bedroll? Hell, it’d make a nice change to waking up to Susan and Dutch arguing, huh?”

“You ain’t wrong...” She is still hesitating. Arthur tried to shake the thought of what she must have been through and instead tells himself that it's standard practice to be wary of new folk. She could feel safe in camp because there were more people to keep tabs on one another. Out here, it was just him, her and the stars, and since when did the stars ever do anything to help?

“Listen. Choice is yours. I’ll ride through the night if that’s what you want, but I promise you’re safe with me.” He checks the barrel of his revolver, counting the six bullets nestled inside before snapping it in place and holding it out by the barrel. “Here. I can’t give you both in case we get jumped, but I’ll stow the long arms on Wyn if that makes it easier.”

She sits in silence for a long while before nodding slowly.

“Alright then. You get to eating your fill while I set you up for the night.”

*****

She wakes up, well rested and warm. She takes a few minutes to lay there, watching the shadows of the flies buzzing on the canvas above before finally crawling out in search of fresh air.

Owain is grazing not so far away, but Arthur is nowhere to be seen. His long arms are still stashed, the fire just ash now. Panic rises in her throat, torn between the fear of him being jumped and him abandoning her willingly.

She frets, pacing, checking their reserves. No, she has no clue where the hell he has taken her so she doesn’t know where to even start on trying to return to Mr Matthews and Mr Van der Linde. She curses him for being so spoilt as to be threatened by a little girl.

“Mornin’, Miss Jackson.” She flinches, immediately retreating from the greeting. Arthur is frowning under the brim of his hat as he dismounts the small bay coloured horse. “Everythin’ alright?”

“I thought you left me,” she admits, still choked up. He seems surprised, then bashful, trying to hide it by patting the neck of the horse he has with him.

“Naw. There was a herd moving through here early this morning and I remembered about you wantin’ a horse of your own.” He gives her an awkward nod. “Whaddaya reckon? She rides pretty nice. One of the smaller one, but she seems friendly enough. If you wanna keep her, I’ll set you up on mine until we can get this one broke in properly if tha’s alright?”

“Sure.”

“Awesome.” He begins to pack their things away, tacking Owain and bribing both steads with sugar cubes.

“We going hunting again?”

Arthur puts away the brush and pats his horse’s neck. “Naw. Today we’re headed to Greyhound Station.”

“Why?”

“Boring stuff. Check to see if anyone’s tried to write us. Check for bounties and that we ain’t most of ‘em. See if there’s any jobs goin’, keep an ear to the ground in case there’s money to be had. You know, standard outlaw stuff.”

“I ain’t ever been on a wanted poster yet,” she muses. “That I know of anyhow. Knowing the Foreman Brothers, they’ll be tryin’ to frame me for something.”

“The Foreman Brothers?”

“The… gang. The ones I was with when Dutch and Hosea found me.” Arthur hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t press it. It’s like he knows it’s a big bruise still there after months of riding with them. “They was wrestlin’ to hang me or bury me alive. Never did find out which since I managed to wriggle off the wagon without them noticin’. So much for family.”

“Y’all were related?”

“Yeah.” She spits off the side. “Good riddance to ‘em.”

He hums. “If anybody tries to pull that with you again, you lemme know. I’ll get ‘em before they blink.” He rummages in his saddle bag and pulls out a glass bottle of clear liquid. She frowns as he takes a greedy few gulps before offering it to her.

“I ain’t much a fan of the bottle, Arthur.”

He throws her a look of befuddlement over his shoulder before understanding befalls him. “It weren’t my first choice, Miss Jackson, but I’ve yet to learn how best to store water if not in a bottle of some kind.”

“Water?”

“Water,” he repeats with a shake of his head. “Whiskey’s the other side if you want some.”

“I’m good for now, Mr Morgan,” she smiles, raising the bottle to her lips, squinting at the sunburned strip that’s the back of his neck. “Maybe some other time.”

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