#mileycyprus-hill

[xiaoluclair]

are u and wdcmv1 the same person

when i'm accused of being out of my own league

[elenafishersps1]

💘💐 send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome 💐💘

Thank you!! 🥰💕💕💕💕

[husbandits]

ヾ(〃ﾟーﾟ〃)ノ

So the past few weeks have been both super busy work-wise and particularly draining mental-health wise, and I ended up taking an impromptu hiatus from tumbr, and writing, and pretty much everything in general... And completely forgot about the secret santa project! (*ﾟдﾟ*)

i’m so so sorry @mileycyprus-hill , I honestly meant for this to be more coherent and polished, but i hope you like it anyway! In any case, a belated merry christmas, and happy new year?

You can't help but feel, after a while, that this isn't the easiest for Arthur. He's home by himself for most of the day- you're not sure if he ventures out to explore the neighborhood, or if that's still too much 'civilization' for him. Either way, he needs some form of company, and you have just the idea.

He's hesitant when you ask him to get in the car with you, but cabin fever must be getting bad enough to overwhelm the  because he doesn't really fuss about it too much. Just asks where you're going and groans when you don't give more than 'a surprise' in response.

~~

By the time the two of you arrive at the shelter, though, he's pent up and antsy. Seems almost nervous, either from being penned up from the car or just anticipation.

"Humane Society?" He frowns, reading from the sign on the building. "Just what sorta 'surprise' you got planned?"

You give him a snort at that, and nudge him out of the car insistently. "Come on, you'll see." You add, when he hesitates at the door; large and imposing and giving no hints as to what could be inside, "You'll like this I promise."

Arthur rolls his eyes at that, but follows you out and into the building, ducking behind you as you approach the counter. You can tell when his attention starts to wander, as someone shops with their dog in the small supply section, and Arthur's drawn to the array of collars and toys, suddenly hopeful. Smirking to yourself, you tell the attendant the two of you are looking to adopt a dog, and she nods, leading you around back to the room where all the dogs are kept caged; almost all of them start barking and pawing at their gates as the three of you arrive. You can feel Arthur's excitement in the sudden length of his stride and the way he takes your arm.

"I'll be right out here when you want to take one of them out to look at more," the woman tells you, and you give a thankful nod before she heads off and leaves the two of you alone to look at the dogs.

Arthur grins at you when you look back at him, looping your arm at his waist. "Y'coulda just said we were, ah, goin' to get a dog." He pauses, almost reaching out to one of the dogs. "We really gettin' one a these?"

You can't help but chuckle at that. Urge him forward sticking one finger through the fencing wiring, letting the little french bulldog inside sniff you. "Yeah, absolutely. Well, it's for you more than me, but yeah. To keep you company while I'm at work."

He blinks at that, but doesn't protest, so you decide to push him a little bit more. "What about this one? He seems friendly..."

"Awful small, ain't he?" Arthur grunts, after giving him a quick look, and you can't help a small nod in agreement.

You frown as his attention turns to a big rottweiler-mix trying to shove her snout under the fencing to smell him better, "We don't have a lot of room at the apartment for a big dog." nevermind what your landlord would think, or the amount of care such a big dog would need, "And I don't think she would be happy without a yard..."

A huff at that, but you can tell he's being facetious by the grin he gives. One hand comes to rest at your side momentarily, and then he's bending down to look at a shy poodle mix. "Now this one's damn adorable..."

You hum in agreement, and look at the laminated card pinned to the cage for more information. Frown when you see the limitations listed. "My name is Buzzy, I'm a lapdog that likes girls and warm blankets, and need other dogs around me to feel safe." Arthur gives a confused sound at that, reaching to try to pet the little guy, only to have him shrink back from his reach. "There's a note on the bottom that says he's normally afraid of most men."

Arthur pulls his hand back with a frown, and the pair of you move on to the next cage....

-

Eventually, you narrow down your choices to an older terrier-retriever mix with thick, wiry hair and a cream-colored underbelly. The card had said that she'd been an emotional support dog for her previous owner, that she shouldn't be left on her own for long periods of the day, and that her name was Kit-Kat; but she'll adjust better with a new name. Seemingly perfect, and when you get the assistant to open up her cage so you and Arthur can pet her and try to see if she likes the two of you, she latches on almost immediately, hopping up and trying to burrow further into your hands.

Arthur's quick to return the affection, getting down on his knees to rub and pat her sides, and the way he chortles when she turns her attentions onto him, slathering his face in kisses, makes the worry that's been spooling in your chest start to unfurl. It's a perfect sight, almost exactly what you'd wanted when you set out to do this. The two of you are quickly working out paperwork with the attendant at the front desk, and then you're on your way to the pet store to pick up all the toys and equipment you'll need for her.

-

"She needs a name..." You hum, watching the two of them on the floor. Arthur looks up at you, both hands framing the dog's face.

He purses his lips, giving a nod. 'Kit-Kat' doesn't really feel fitting for a dog like this, and you can't help but think she could use something a little less kitschy.

"Needs to be somethin' fitting..." He grunts, clearly having turned this idea over in his head for a while. "Maybe Lucky?"

You snort at the thought, earning a huff from the man. Getting up to come sit on the floor with the pair of them, you curl your arm around his and settle into a comforting position of curling at his side and watching him play with the dog.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

So how long have you been barrel racing? My SIL used to do it and I’ve always been so intrigued by the sport. I love watching it!

A little over 10 years now! Fun to watch but even more fun to do it, haha. You should definitely try it!

[krazyyy]

mileycyprus-hill replied to your post: For anyone who doesn’t know, if like to announce...

What is “SFM” for us ignorant folk?

SFM stands for Source Filmmaker, its a 3D animation software on Steam, sfm has a workshop where you can download a ton of models from various video games. Its not as good as blender or maya but its fun to use, and its just easier in my opinion. Thanks for askin ^^ 

[my-funky-little-cowboy]

Has anyone brought up what Arthur’s reaction would be when his s/o calls him Artie for the first time? I’m curious as to how he’d react.

Aww, I haven't gotten this yet. I only know one other person who has written something like this, and honestly I cried. @squidproquoclarice did that to me, and I think they agreed on Art. If you're not reading Sunrise you may want to. (Don't be put off by the word count, 100% worth it)

I went with gender neutral pronouns.

Arthur sighed, rolling over on the cot. The camp was silent, the sun was still below the horizon but the first rays of morning light were breaking over the horizon. Sleep had evaded him for the third night, he swung his feet over the side of the cot, pushing himself to a stand and trudging over to start the coffee, if for no one else but himself.

He placed the lid back on the percolator and wandered over to grab some more wood for the fire. Three days, they should be back by now. What could be keeping them? Why did Dutch need you to go with him? Both he and John had been quiet when Arthur asked about the outing. It didn't sit well with Arthur, what were they doing that he wasn't allowed to know? Hosea had been no help, he had conferred with him shortly after you rode out. The only advice he could offer was to not worry, that Dutch and John would keep you safe.

The smell of coffee hit his nose as he placed the new wood on the fire, the sap crackling as the fire licked the freshly cut wood. He pulled his cup from his satchel, pouring himself a generous cup of coffee and turned toward the rising sun, walking to find a quiet place to sit and write in his journal. Take his mind off the time and how each hour you hadn't returned made him feel more restless.

The sun had pushed over the horizon and the others in camp had begun to stir as Arthur drew. He heard the soft footsteps approach and he looked up to see Tilly walking toward him, coffee in hand. She sat down quietly next to him, without saying anything, ge felt her there but let the comfortable silence settle between them. Finishing his drawing and closing his journal, he turned to her. Her face feigned innocence as she watched him over her cup of coffee.

"Morning, Ms. Tilly. How's ya coffee?" He smiled hollowly at her, she wasn't fooled.

"You know, I can always tell when you make it. You're the only one who makes it strong. Did you sleep at all last night? You look like shit. You worried about y/n?" Tilly's eyes searched his face. Arthur sighed, taking a swig from his own cup, which was now cold.

"I just wish Dutch woulda told me what they was up to, I know y/n can take care of themselves, but it's the not knowin." His face showed just how tired he was, and Tilly moved closer.

"Arthur, you think y/n would be okay with what you're doing to yourself?" He yawned quietly. "Go get yourself some sleep, I bet they will all be back today." She grabbed the coffee from his hand, pouring it into the dirt between them. "Now if you don't git I'll send Ms. Grimshaw your way. Go get some sleep, and before you begin, ain't nothing around camp that needs doing that we can't get one of the other men to help with." Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. Pushing himself to his feet before offering a hand to Tilly, pulling her effortlessly to her feet. She smiled and bowed her head. "You always was the perfect gentleman, y/n is lucky to have you."

"Don't know about that Ms. Jackson." Arthur scoffed as the young woman walked away. He trusged heavily back to his tent, his body felt heavy as he sat on the edge of his cot. He really was exhausted, he laid back his head hitting the cot as he laid with his eyes closed. The sound of Javier's guitar drifted into his tent lulling him to sleep as the sounds of the camp buzzed around him.

"Arthur. Arthur, wake up. What are you doing, Artie, it's so late!" Your voice drifted through the sleep. /Was he dreaming? No, your warmth next to him, your touch on his face was real./

He opened his eyes, the late afternoon sun shone harshly through the flap of his tent, backlighting you and obscuring your features. He reached his hand up, holding yours to his face.

"Did...did you call me Artie?" His voice was husky with sleep and you blushed, you never had caught him sleeping before he was usually the one who woke you. His rough hand gently brushing your hair from your face before he planted a feather kiss on your forehead. You leaned in close, whispering before kissing him hungrily on the lips.

"I did, what are you gonna do about it?" You felt his arms snake around your neck and waist, pulling you on top of him and breaking the kiss long enough to growl.

"Guess I'm gonna show you how much I appreciate it."

[galadrieljones]

☆ Put this star into the inbox of your favourite blogs. It's time to spread positivity!🖤🖤🖤

Thank you!! (*^_^*)

[the-halo-of-my-memory]

Hi 👋🏻 I’m drunk on champagne and reading your tags 😏👀😅 Happy New Year!

Hi friend! 😂👋 Celebrating the new year I see. Hope you've been fucking it all night for me. I wouldn't want it any other way. Happy New Years 🍾💕

[zarcake-writes]

I just wanna say, thank you for the Charthur fics! Your writing is outstanding. The way you create such detailed scenes that flow so well is beautiful. I’m curious as to how the 3 of them started their relationship. I also love your Not Alone Together fic, and I can’t wait to see more from you. 💛

Thank you so much for this! I’m so glad the scenes are detailed enough. I always worry about that lol. About Charles, Arthur, and the reader/narrator began the relationship, well I’m gonna explain it in one of the next chapters. It will probably be a flashback, where the narrator/reader is thinking of the beginning of their relationship. But, in case anyone is worried, Arthur and Charles will not fight (physically or any other way) for the reader/narrator’s affection. Oh, and Not Alone Together is something I’m gonna be working on next. I got some ideas for that fic lol. Thank you again for the comment, it means so much to me.

[fangirl-ramblings]

Pairing: Arthur x gn!reader

Characters: Reader, Simon Pearson, Mary Linton, Arthur Morgan

Word count: 3306

Summary: You and Arthur have recently made your relationship official by moving into his tent...but is he really into you...or is he still holding onto his past?

Notes: SFW, Angst leading to fluff

After requesting several wonderful stories from one of my favourite writers and people, I was super honoured to have the chance to be able to write something for the super talented and lovely @littlestarofthewest -  Merry Christmas from your secret santa 😘😘

Also a huge thank you to @horsegirl1h (who helped me plot this out) @verai-marcel (for wrangling in all my stupid grammatical mistakes) & @mileycyprus-hill who took a quick look over this and gave me a much better character note on how to improve Arthur's feelings in this story and give me a far better title I could ever think of myself. Thank you all 😘

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

The First Shall Be Forgotten

You slowly opened your eyes, only to find the cot next to you still empty. It was fairly late when you'd finally taken yourself off to bed last night, but you had found yourself unable to keep your eyes open as you'd sat around the scout fire. Your hope of Arthur riding back into camp and joining you in lying down for the night had turned into a wishful dream of waking up with his strong arms wrapped around you, but it turns out it was just that - merely a pleasant dream. 

It was only a few months since you'd started dating, with most of that time spent being inseparable, but lately you noticed that Arthur was staying away from camp longer and longer. Yes - the events of Blackwater had changed the gang's luck and the likes of Dutch and Strauss kept giving Arthur more and more tasks to do, but you'd felt like that most of these jobs could be done well before nightfall. Surely Arthur wasn't avoiding you because he was bored of you already….could he?

You sat upright, shaking your head free of any more of those nasty thoughts, quickly making the decision that you should get dressed and help out around camp before Miss Grimshaw marched over to berate you for wasting so much time idling about.

There was a chill floating in the air this morning in camp and so you found yourself shivering as you looked around for your light jacket. Opening your shared trunk, you proceeded to pile a mixture of both yours and Arthur's clothes on to the cot in your quest to find your missing coat. Though you soon found yourself distracted as you lifted one of Arthur's shirts up, tutting to yourself as you saw just how worn and dirt stained they all were. You swore that that man would wear these offending items until they fell apart on him...and some were close to doing so, judging by how often they'd been patched up.

   "Ah, there you are," Pearson's cheerful voice booming from behind you, making you jump out of your skin, "I need a helping hand gathering supplies in town and was wondering if you could come along with me for the ride"

   "Me? Surely there's someone more capable about?" Although Valentine was only a short ride away, the idea of being Mr. Pearson's captive audience for that short length of time was not high on your list of priorities for the day. 

   "Well, I don't know if you noticed but we are stretched a little thin on the ground right now," his hands gesturing to the almost empty camp area in front of you, "Mr. Smith & Mr. Escuella are yet to return from Blackwater with young Sean and, as you well know, Mr. Morgan is still yet to return from wherever he has took himself off to. As for the girls..." you tried to stifle a chuckle as he trailed off to glance nervously over at where Tilly, Mary-Beth and Karen were currently sitting at their wagon, making sure they couldn't hear this conversation, "...I'd rather not ask them. Uncle told me of the trouble they got up to on their last visit into Valentine."

You couldn't help but burst out laughing at Pearson's fear of trying to keep three excited young women from creating chaos. "Sorry, sorry," you apologised, wiping your eyes as he looked at you with confusion, "Well...since you have no other options, I'll join you. I've been wanting to pick Arthur up a new shirt anyways." Spotting your jacket at the bottom of the truck, you quickly threw it on, leaving all the other clothes heaped on the bed, "Shall we go now then?"

"Goddamit, why does there have to be a train in the station?" you grumbled as Pearson pulled the horses to a stop at the crossing, which was blocked by one of the carriages belonging to the offending train. After being waylaid by the shop boy slowly loading the wagon with all the goods Pearson had chosen for camp - not that any of these ingredients would do much to improve his cooking, you cruelly thought to yourself - your head was starting to ache from listening to Pearson's constant tall tales. All you had wanted to do was get back to camp and sleep off your headache, but that didn't seem to be happening anytime soon, thanks to this stupid train.

   "I know what you mean, I was hoping to get back and make a start on preparing supper," Pearson sighed before suddenly cheering up, "But, hey, at least it gives me more time to tell you about my time at sea. There was this other time..."

Internally, you found yourself groaning, trying to zone out the older man as he recounted yet another story, that this time seemed to involve him somehow, inexplicably fighting a walrus -  single-handedly -  to save his crew.

You glanced around, finding yourself admiring all the different horses hitched up around the station...until a familiar sight caught your eye.

   "Hey isn't that Brutus?" you interrupted Pearson mid-sentence, gesturing towards the big, black Shire horse that Hosea had gifted Arthur a few weeks ago. Arthur had rarely named his horses after losing his beloved Boudicca in Blackwater and was more than content to just refer to this one as "Boy", but after overhearing Hosea called this giant a brute, you'd jokingly suggested the name Brutus, a name that had tickled Arthur and agreed it was the perfect name for this beast.

Put out a little by the fact you had rudely interrupted him just as the story was getting good, Pearson grudgingly glanced over to the direction in which you were pointing.

   "Er, it does look like it. So anyway after I killed the Walrus with nothing but my bare hands…" 

   'So this is where you've gotten to Morgan,' you thought to yourself, once again not listening to Pearson's story. 'Here's hoping you're on your way home too.'

Smiling to yourself that your lover would hopefully be by your side once more, you absent-mindedly found yourself scanning the crowd of people that was starting to thin out as they slowly stepped onto the carriages...until you saw him standing with his back to you.

A smile started to creep over your face as you recognised Arthur's dirty blond hair, broad frame and filthy blue shirt. Just the fact you could see how dirty it was from this distance made you glad that you'd made the decision to buy him a new one now, as that one needed throwing out, never mind a good wash. Anybody would think that man spent most of his time rolling around in the mud than riding a horse around.

With his hands on his gun belt, he shifted his weight to one side and the smile on your face was replaced with a look of confusion as a young lady was revealed to be standing next to him, deep in an intimate conversation.

Unconsciously scowling at her, you were unable to shake the feeling that you've seen her somewhere before, but for the life of you, you couldn't quite place where.

You squinted your eyes to try and focus your vision on her delicate features before a feeling of rage bubbled up from your stomach as she kissed Arthur's cheek, in a way that suggested more than just friendship.

"And I'll tell you - I used that walrus meat to feed a crew of 50...and not one of them complained the way you and the rest of camp do about my cooking" Pearson waffled on down your ear, distracting you from your thoughts about this mysterious woman and how you wanted to jump down and throttle her. Instead you suddenly had the urge to wrap your hands around the cook's neck. 

Turning to face him, you barked, "Maybe being at sea for weeks at end with no food makes people more appreciative of the slop you always manage to serve up - no matter the ingredients." 

You instantly felt regret as the words left your mouth and you saw the hurt in the older man's eyes.

   "Christ, I'm sorry Mr. Pearson. I didn’t mean to take it out on you..." You paused, thinking about telling him about what you just saw, but you doubted this old sea dog would give a damn about your love life and so explained "I just have a real bad headache and it's put me in a bad mood."

He nodded softly and turned away so you wouldn't see him wipe the sting of the tears from his eyes.

Feeling guilty from the hurt you just caused, you looked away to the source of your own pain, only to find Arthur had disappeared from the platform and the train was now pulling out the station. Had he gotten on board with his mystery woman? Gone off to start a new life with her and left you and the outlaw life behind him? These thoughts rattled around your head as Pearson told the horses to giddy up and the pair of you headed back to camp in an awkward silence.

Jumping down from the wagon, you helped Pearson unload the wagon - still with an uneasy tension in the air, before you tried to broker the peace between you both by offering to help prepare the next meal as a peace offering.

   "No, it's quite okay," Pearson patted you shoulder to show there was no hard feelings, "You go sleep off that sore head of yours"

You nodded appreciatively, finding yourself thanking him and apologising once more as you picked up the wrapped parcel containing Arthur's new shirt, and headed back to your tent. 

As you walked over, you rolled your eyes in annoyance at yourself as you caught sight of the mess you'd left behind this morning. Picking the mountain of clothes up, you threw them in straight at the trunk at the end of the cot, surprising yourself as you heard a loud clatter of something hitting the side of the chest and then dropping onto the floor.

Peering over, you saw that a few shirts and a pair of trousers had missed their target and were now scattered over the floor... alongside a wooden photoframe, laying face down on the ground, that definitely wasn't there before.

Picking it up, you recognised the image of a younger, but still very handsome version of Arthur standing on the left.

'You've always been a good-looking bastard haven't you?' half smiling as you took in his handsome features, 'No wonder you have a long list of admirers to spend all your time instead of me.'

Well before you and Arthur had started dating, you had seen this photograph before. You recalled picking it up from his bedside table back then too, in order to get a closer look of how attractive Arthur's always been.

But sometime between then and making your relationship official, Arthur must have removed it and hidden it out of sight from you. Just as you were about to ask yourself why, you spotted who else was in the picture.

   'No…no it can't be,' you thought to yourself as you stared at the beautiful, dark haired woman standing next to him in the image. But, as much as you didn’t want it to be, it certainly was. Looking straight back at you was a younger version of the same woman from the train station…the same woman who had ripped Arthur's heart out and tore it into a million pieces all those years ago when she called off their engagement - Mary.

Time seemed to slow down as your mind went into overdrive. Did he simply remove the picture as a thoughtful gesture so you wouldn't wake up to a younger Arthur and his ex-fiancee looking at you…or did he hide it because he still loved her and her alone? Were you just a stopgap - something to fill the emptiness in his heart until she came back to him? Is that the real reason Arthur had hidden the picture and not gotten rid of it completely? So once he had managed to win her back, he could toss you aside and place it once more on his bedside to stare lovingly at while he held her in his arms?

You hadn’t realise you were crying or just how hard you were gripping the frame until you heard the sudden sound of glass cracking and a mix of your blood and tears began to streak all over her stupid, perfect face. Standing frozen to the spot, you stared and stared at her image, slowly disappearing under the physical manifestations of your hurt and betrayal, until you heard Arthur bellow out your name as he rode back into camp.

   "Hey you. Boy, did I sure miss you while I was gone," he cheerfully greeted you as he strode towards you, "I tell you, there's some strange sights out there that I've been dyin' to tell you all 'bout."

   "Tell me?" you snarled, acting the wounded animal you currently felt like, "Don't you have other people you'd rather spend your time with?"

   "What? What's got into you?" 

Your heart panged as you saw the hurt cross his face as he saw how upset you were. 

"Listen, if this 'bout me spendin' so much time from camp recently, then I am sorry - but I did miss you somethin' fierce y'know" he assured you, placing his arms around your waist.

   "Just like you've missed Mary for all these years?" Just saying her name out loud felt like you had tasted venom on your lips and needed to quickly spit it out.

"Mary? Where's all this comin' from?" He flustered, averting his eyes downwards as not to meet your steely gaze. Upon seeing you holding the photograph, he exclaimed, "Christ alive, you're bleedin'. Here lemme fix you up."

"I'm fine," you snapped at him, pulling your hand away from his gentle touch. Any other time, this small act of affection - the big mean outlaw gently cradling your hand in his - would have made you melt on the spot, but today your inner rage wasn't having any of it. Instead you blurted out, "I saw you. At the train station…with her."

Realising he had been caught out and couldn't bluff his way out of this sorry mess, he sat down on the cot and tried to explain.

   "Okay, yeah, I was at the train station with her, but it really ain't what you think…"

   "I saw her kiss you."

  "You mean when she kissed my cheek? That was her sayin' goodbye. Her and her brother are headin' back East to find their father."

You sat next to him, the photograph still in your hands.

   "Still doesn't explain why you were with her in the first place."

   "No it doesn't, does it." He sighed, running his hand down his face. "I was on my way back to camp, ridin' through Valentine when I thought I'd check and see if there was any post. Lo' and behold there was just the one - a letter from Mary askin' if I could help with a small problem of hers."

   "So you must have been in contact with her if she knew you were in town."

He shook his head. "No. No, she'd recognised the girls after their last trip into town and wrote to me on the off-chance I was also in the area."

   "Why?"

"Her kid brother, Jamie, he'd gone and got himself mixed up in this weird cult up in Cumberland Forest. Christ, you shoulda seen them all listenin' on as this lunatic spouted some nonsense about turtles or somethin'," laughing, he patted his leg until he saw your stony expression still waiting for the answer to your question.

   "Get to the point please, Arthur."

   "You're right, sorry," he said as he nodded, "Jamie was the only one in her family who stood up for me and I owed it to *him*, not Mary, him -  to help get him away from those crazy fools."

You fidgeted slightly next to him. You wanted to believe him, but he seemed to be avoiding the main topic of conversation.

   "So say I believe you about your reasonings for helping her…why did you keep a picture of her?"

Silence filled the air for a second before he simply answered. "I shoved it in there so you wouldn't have to keep lookin' at it when we lay together...and I guess I forgot all 'bout it."

You looked away as more tears fell down your cheeks. Gently placing his hand under your chin, Arthur turned your face to face his, looking deep into your eyes he told you, 

   "You’re overthinking – I’m yours. That’s all I want to be.”

   "Prove it." You pleaded.

   "Okay then...this should show you she's nothin' to me now." He took the broken frame from your grasp and carefully removed the picture from the frame, lingering for a moment before crumpling it up in his hand and walking towards the campfire.

Though his stride was purposeful, you couldn't help but feel he faltered once more as he looked at the flames, but those fears disappeared as he turned to look back at you with a warmth in his eyes and a smile stretching wide across his face. Looking straight at you, his hand opened and the picture fell into the flames, where it lay for a few moments as it slowly rendered into nothing but a pile of ashes.

Making his way back over to you, he picked you up and spun you around his arms.

   "I'm all yours...are you mine?"

Bonus scene: Arthur's POV

He slowly removed the picture from the frame, partly being careful not to cut himself on broken shards of glass and partly because he wanted to make sure he was making the right decision. He was convinced that after Mary called it all off between them, he'd never smile, let alone love again. But then you'd walked into his life and brought light back into the darkness he'd found himself in.

But maybe there was a reason he'd held on to this photograph for all this time - a reminder of the good times that existed between them. Heartbreak has a funny way of erasing those memories, but seeing the woman you once considered the love of your life in person has an equally funny way of making those feelings rush back.

But no, the heartache he'd felt for all these years outweighed the fleeting moments of happiness he'd felt with Mary. And that kiss on the cheek to say goodbye that she'd given him at the train station? It certainly didn't give him butterflies like it used too. Looking at her image one last time, he crumpled it up and walked over to the campfire.

Though he had confidently strode over to flames, he once more had doubts he was right to finally let Mary go. Turning to face you, everything suddenly became very clear in Arthur's mind. Everything he ever wanted: someone who loved the group of people he considered family, as well as loving him for the man he was - despite his faults, someone who was willing to stick with him through thick and thin, make him laugh when he was down, and never fail to make him smile, that special someone he wanted to grow old with with...he already had that with you.

Without thinking, he opened his hand and let the battered photograph waft downwards, enveloped by the flames and turning to nothingness as he made his way back over to you, picking you up and spinning you around his arms.

   "I'm all yours...are you mine?"

[wintersongstress]

I thought it was time for me to make one of these. It’s no secret that a lot of you helped make this a better year for me, and I want to give some personal shout-outs to some of my favorite content creators and blogs, as well as some all-around good friends for making my tumblr a better place ♥ It’s a shame I can only tag 50 blogs :(

a-c

@abigailmarstons // @actuallyhansolo ♥♥  // @albertmasonry ♥ // @theashenphoenix ♥ // @thebittervampire // @the-bluest-hour ♥♥ // @boozerman ♥♥ // @callmebonnie ♥♥ // @cclkestis ♥♥ // @councilspectres ♥♥

d-f

@the-darklings ♥♥ // @dicax-asina ♥♥ // @e-ripley // @flawinthemachine ♥♥ // @foundynnel

g-l

@thegunslingerstragedy ♥ // @halfwayriight // @haloinfinite ♥ // @the-halo-of-my-memory ♥♥ // @hoovesmadeofsteel // @itspapillonnoir // @jennyofvengerberg ♥ // @lockhvrts ♥♥//

 m-r

@mileycyprus-hill ♥ // @miyku ♥ // @molinasjules ♥♥// @mrskrazy // @porkchop-ao3 ♥ // @prairiemule // @rainofbrasspetalss ♥ // @reddead-confession // @river-the-fox ♥

s-v

@a-shakespearean-in-paris ♥♥ // @shallow-gravy ♥♥ // @shandrias ♥ // @shaxxs ♥ // @shethenightwolf ♥ // @silverstar15 ♥♥// @soazzar // @tiredcowpoke // @tissaia-de-vries ♥ // @tobiasrieper ♥ // @vault21 ♥// @venjpetra // @verai-marcel ♥// @vindicia ♥ // 

w-z

@winterswake // @wolfamongthem ♥♥ // @xii-twelve ♥♥ // @yennefur 

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Red Dead Secret Santa

Howdy @mileycyprus-hill​ I’m your secret Santa this year! I hope you like my gift to you! 

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Arthur sits astride his horse, his fingers aching from the cold. He shaked his hand a little, trying to fend off the ever-pressing chill. Even inside these rabbit-fur gloves, the low temperature bites his skin. Not only that, but his toes are chilled, his nose, his neck and ears. The one thing that keeps him warm is the thought of coming home to you and his two children. 

You’ve been Arthur’s anchor for many years now. Even before the gang fell apart, you were his rock. His best decision was to marry you, and his two favorite days were when his children were born. However, despite having a proper home now where you can live a quiet, peaceful, and most of all safe life, Arthur still has his wandering spirit. He definitely doesn’t stay away for as long of periods as when he was just a gang member. Usually he’s only out a couple of days. 

He’d left three days ago to go “hunting with John”. Or that’s what he told you and the kids. In reality, he’d taken a trip down to Blackwater to do some last minute Christmas shopping. He wanted something special for all three of you, and luckily Blackwater, being the large port for trade that it was, provided just that. After he’d done some shopping, he’d continued wandering to hunt for game, mostly as an excuse to you for being gone so long. 

The wind blows hard again, picking up a cloud of the freshly fallen snow and nearly taking his hat. His hand steadies it, securing it back onto his head and keeping him warm. Oh what he wouldn’t give to be in his warm home with the most important things to him. The steady mare beneath him snorts, seeming just as miserable as him. He pats her neck. “Almost home, girl.”

Around him, the iconic sharp mountains south of Valentine appear out of the fog. They’re covered in a beautiful blanket of snow, thanks to the major winter storm that had come through the night before. He looks up at the darkening sky, feeling even colder at the sight of the thick clouds. 

After another hour of riding, Arthur finally reaches the fork in the trail that will lead him home. Just as the snow begins drifting down in fat flakes again, he sees the lights of his cabin. His heart lifts at the sight, thinking about your face. 

When his mare’s in her stall with some food and a blanket on, he heads to the cabin with the gifts tucked away inside the furs in his arms. The moment he opens the door, he hears a squeal. Smiling, he drops his load on the floor and bends down to pick his five year old daughter up. 

“Papa!” she huffs in his face. She pokes his red nose. “Cold, papa.” 

“Yep, I’m cold, darlin’.” 

“I get a blanket, papa,” she says and he puts her down, chuckling as her short legs carry her off. His eyes immediately find you. His entire body warms at the sight of you coming over to him to greet him with a kiss. He returns it enthusiastically, loving the feeling of you in his arms again, right where you belong. 

“Where’s my boah?” he asks gently when you pull away. 

As though on queue, the two year old comes toddling out. He’s carrying his stuffed horse, his eyes the same color as yours nearly hidden under his mop of dirty blond hair. “Pa!” he hollers at seeing Arthur. Once again, he bends down to pick up his son. 

“Hey son. You been good for your mama?”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” you tease, patting Arthur’s back as you go over to the stove to pull dinner off. 

Smiling, Arthur puts his son down and then takes off his winter gear before helping you pull out the dishes. 

“Mm, smells so good, darlin’,” he says, looking at the meal before him. He’s just glad he got home in enough time to eat with his family. “So, how was our little girl?”

You sigh a bit. Your daughter has always been a daddy’s girl and when Arthur leaves, she can be a downright nightmare. She pouts a lot, but the likelihood of her throwing a tantrum multiplies by ten. “She’s… well, you know how she is.” 

Arthur smiles and decides to go and find her. After all, wasn’t she getting him a blanket? He goes to her room that she shares with her brother and finds her laying in bed on her favorite blanket. She instantly grins when she sees him and he knows she’s been waiting for him to come fetch her. 

“Come on, baby. You gonna come eat?”

“I have a blanket, papa.” 

He chuckles and picks her up, her blanket still clutched to her. She instantly lays her head on his chest. He loves how cuddly she is with him. He remembers briefly how when she was about a year old, she’d gotten sick. Both you and him were so scared she’d die, and Arthur spent many nights with her tucked against his chest as he sat in a rocking chair by the fire, trying to keep her alive. Ever since then, she’d been his biggest fan. 

When he walks out with her in his arms, you smile again and the four of you sit down to eat. Arthur silently says a thank you to whomever might be listening that he got home tonight. After all, tomorrow is Christmas Eve. He wouldn’t miss spending it with his family for anything in the world. 

The next day is spent in some chaos. You and Arthur always clean the house from top to bottom during the day of Christmas Eve, hampered by your two kids. Although your daughter tries to help, she’s only five. Plus it’s Christmas, which means she’s more hyper than if you’d let her drink some of your morning coffee. Her brother isn’t much better, and being two he’s as destructive as a tornado. However, you and Arthur manage to keep them mostly in check. It’s still a relief when night comes and you can finally sit down to eat dinner. 

Arthur always catches a wild turkey for Christmas Eve dinner and this year is no exception. If Arthur prides himself on anything, it’s his ability to take care of his family. He sometimes regrets not giving the same attention to Eliza and Isaac when they were alive, but he’s grown a lot since they died. When the gang fell apart, it really shook his world but when you stuck by his side he knew he’d die for you. 

Arthur sits down at the table, sighing as he prepares to carve the turkey. You’ve done your best to create a beautiful dinner; Arthur grabs your hand and tells you it looks wonderful (although he’s sure the potatoes have a little more garlic than needed). Luckily your kids are sitting relatively quiet, although it’s clear they’re jittery. 

After stuffing yourselves, Arthur does what he’s done every year since you began your family and sits down in his chair. His daughter immediately crawls into his lap, a book in her hand. 

“Papa, here’s the book,” she says, handing it to him and then curling into him. He chuckles and opens the book. He reads this every year on Christmas Eve after dinner. You sit in another chair with your son on your lap. He’s clutching his stuffed horse again, but he’s got his wooden cowboy that Arthur made him for Christmas last year. As Arthur begins to read, your son plays with his toys, thankfully quietly. 

You love listening to Arthur read, how the words come alive with his deep tones. You love watching him even more right now with his daughter tucked against him. He’s been such a blessing as a husband. Never have you had to worry about how ends would meet, about food being on the table, about your children’s safety and it’s because of his efforts. 

When Arthur finishes reading, he closes the book and his daughter yawns. “Hey, why you goin’ to sleep? We ain’t done yet, baby. Ya need your Eve gift.” 

Immediately she perks up and hops off his lap. “Papa! Go get it!” 

He chuckles and stands up, and so do you. He kisses you briefly before heading outside into the darkness. It’s traditional for your kids every year to get new pajamas and a new story book before bedtime. 

After a few minutes, he comes back in with two packages, similarly sized. Your daughter immediately squeals with excitement, but your son runs over and grabs his leg. “Pa! Up, up!” He gestures for Arthur to pick him up. 

“A’right, gimme a second, boah. Ya gotta open your present first.” 

He hands the kids their gifts and they immediately rip into them. His daughter giggles when she sees the pretty little night dress of her favorite color, while the boy inspects his new boy’s union suit. He’s young enough to not really understand the tradition yet, so he’s a little disappointed. However, he sees the children’s book and gets excited. Although he can’t read yet, he loves stories. 

After the kids have opened their present, Arthur puts his arm around you. “A’right kids. Who can get dressed in their new pajamas first?” 

Your daughter stands up, giggling madly. “Me! Me!” She books it into her arm, closely followed by her brother, although his stubby legs greatly hamper his speed. 

When the kids are in their room getting dressed, Arthur grabs your shoulders and turns you to face him. He bends down and kisses you deeply. His behavior tells you that, if the kids were already in bed, he’d be laying you down near the fire and making sweet love to you. It’s all you want as well, but too soon the kids’ door opens and your daughter comes bustling out in her new PJ’s, followed by her pouting brother. It’s obvious who finished dressing first. 

Arthur rewards both of them, telling them how good they are. He then tells them it's time to read one of their stories for bed and that the sooner they go to sleep, the sooner they get presents. You follow them all into the kids’ room and watch as Arthur sits down on your son’s bed. His daughter, as always, crawls into his lap as he reads one of their new books. It’s expected when he finishes, they both argue to him to read the other one. If it hadn’t been Christmas Eve, he probably would’ve said no, but tonight’s different. 

By the time he’s done reading, both kids are drifting off. He stands up and lays his daughter in bed, pulls the covers over her and kisses her head. After, he does the same for his son. When he’s done, you go in and say your good nights and give kisses as well. 

After both kids are put down, you and Arthur clean up the house and then lay out the kids’ presents for the morning. Without a doubt, your daughter will come out of her room in the middle of the night to gaze at them to make sure they’ve shown up. You don’t mind though, she never opens them until morning when you and Arthur have woken. 

When everything’s done, Arthur pulls you into a one-armed hug and gives you a squeeze. “Come on, beautiful. We got a long day tomorrow.” 

With a yawn, you nod and let him guide you to your bedroom. Once there, you begin pulling out your nightgown to change. Arthur’s hands are suddenly on you and he’s kissing your shoulder from behind. 

“You ain’t gonna need that now, darlin’. I’m gonna keep you warm all night.” 

Sighing, you let Arthur slip your clothes off and begin touching you. With surprising speed and strength, he picks you up and tosses you onto the bed. Giggling, you watch him crawl over your naked body. With a wicked grin, you can tell exactly what he’s going to do.

“Can I give you my gift early?” he says, but he doesn’t wait for you to respond. Sighing in the pleasure of his touches and kisses, you know it’s going to be a long night. 

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

For the RDR2 Ask: 🍩 (Arthur & John, I'd really like to know both)🐴

I did answer these already! I’d like to keep them at a healthy weight cause who doesn’t love healthy boahs

Also, my love for Arabians carries into the game. lol

[krazyyy]

It never hurts to take a break. Especially when you feel down. But just know that there is a huge group of people out there who support you. You have done SO much for this fandom. Don’t break yourself. 🤟🏻

I suppose you are right, and srsly thank you to everyone that has supported me, would not be where I am if it wasn’t for you guys

[verai-marcel]

hi! i'm a new writer interested in writing fanfics, and i have some deep, deep struggles on how to write a good fanfic tagged with "angst with happy ending". i'm struggling on when and how do we put the angst, when and how do we stop with the amount of angst, how many amount of angst is enough, and how to make this fanfic leave deep impression in the reader's mind. can you please help me with this? :(

Ohhhh boy. So. I... don’t do angst very well. I just don’t write it very often, so I’m very out of practice with it.

For me, the angst has to be just enough to elicit that feeling in the heart that makes tears prick the eyes. Then you come in with the soft warm fuzzy happy ending to make the reader feel better. As long as that angst has been earned and is reasonable, and isn’t the result of just simple miscommunication (because that particular trope bugs me the most). A truly angsty moment is when the characters come across a difficult decision that will harm the status quo, and they must choose what is the ‘greater good’, what will actually help bring a better outcome, usually at great personal cost.

For example, in my vampire fic, I made Female Reader make a difficult decision because even though it would bring her a lot of pain and terrible memories, she did it because she didn’t want Arthur to suffer. I guess that’s not really that angsty, that’s just making hard decisions... but that’s life, right? Angst, to me, comes from the agony caused by the decisions we make. Probably not the textbook definition of angst, but like I said, I don’t write it very often.

Others have a different way of writing angst, so let’s ask, shall we?

Perhaps someone can reblog with some good tips? (only if you have some free time, I understand y’all are busy!)

Tagging some writing buddies just to make sure they see this 😁:

@fangirl-ramblings @littlestarofthewest @shootybangbang @mileycyprus-hill @sunshinexlollipops @a-shakespearean-in-paris

[charlessmithhasmyheart]

17 Questions; 17 People

Tagged By: @my-funky-little-cowboy

Nickname(s): Winty, Whitwah, Knee-cap

Zodiac: Cancer

Height: 5’6”

Last Thing Googled: Stardew Valley Festivals...I love that game so much!!

Sung Stuck In My Head: ‘Before You Go’ - Lewis Capaldi

Number of Followers: 302

Amount of Sleep I Got: 8

Lucky Number: 8

Favorite Song: Oof...idk. That’s hard to answer. ‘In The Summertime’ - Mango Terry is the first thing that comes to mind.

Favorite Instrument: Is have to say the flute considering I spent 10 years playing it! Either that or the piano.

Dream Job: An actor; that’s what I went to college for or a professional tap dancer!!

Aesthetic: I have a very casual aesthetic; I don’t really have anything specific that pops out. If anything, I just like a combination of different stuff.

Favorite Author: Oh geez, I’ve read so many books it’s hard to choose. No one can go wrong with J.R.R. Tolkien so I’m gonna go with that!

Favorite Animal Noise: Hmmm....I would have to say the unearthly howl my Uber tiny dog lets loose every other week!

Random: I have such a fine-tuned sense of smell that people used to think I was a werewolf when I was in high school...it’s now a running joke.

Tagging: @fangirl-ramblings @morgans-whore

@a-vast-african-plain @la-vide

@dorathedestroyer64 @mountainhymn @gentle-outlaw @freetobetired @strwxberrymilk @journal-of-an-outlaw @that-wimpy-cowboy-doll @avr-writes @charlessmithy1875 @tahitianmangoes @viperfizz @mileycyprus-hill @heart-of-gold-outlaw

I picked some at random, some from activity, and some people who have requested stuff from me! Feel free to participate or not!