#we know what you're doing lenny

[devilishheart]

I've been bingeing New Girl to stave off the existential dread and

Hmmmm.....you don't say

[bigification]

Pretty Eyes

"You've got pretty eyes, you know that." Your boyfriend, Lenny, tells you.

"You think so?" You reply, no one's ever complimented your eyes before.

"Yeah, they're perfect windows into your soul." He smiles as he looks into your deep brown eyes.

You blush in response, trying to hide how much the compliment affected you.

"I think the rest could do with some work, though." Lenny adds.

Your smile drops instantly. Why would he say that? Is he messing with you? What does he mean by that?

"What.." you ask, hoping he starts laughing and says it was a joke. But his face remains serious.

"First let's work on that belly." Lenny says while pulling up your shirt, revealing a soft pad of fat on your stomach.

By now you're freaking out. He's gone way too far for it to be a joke, why is he being so mean? And what does he mean working on your belly? You want to push him away and hide your stomach but you feel frozen, completely incapable of moving or talking back.

Lenny plants his hand on your stomach, it feels warm. He pushes firmly into your body, knocking you back a bit.

"That's better." He says with a charming smile.

You look down in a mix of happiness and horror, seeing your belly entirely disappear. In its place is a perfectly chiselled six pack with a sharp V line leading down to your crotch. But before you can even react, Lenny has moved on.

"Hmmm." He ponders to himself. "That chest needs fixing too."

He cups your soft chest with both his hands and starts to rub. You hate to admit it, but it feels great. So good in fact, you almost forget that you're mad at him. He keeps rubbing, sculpting your pecs into the perfect shape. You notice them grow and grow, but with muscle rather than fat. They begin to push out from your body, creating a shelf over your six pack. You even feel your nipples growing as they slowly drift to the underside of your juicy pecs. By the time Lenny pulls away, you're left with two massive pecs that are threatening to burst out of your tiny shirt at any moment.

"I think I'm gonna need to broaden your shoulders to match your expansive chest." He states as if you have a say in it.

His hands grip tightly onto your shoulders and begin to pull them outward. Each pull broadens your shoulders like they're made of putty, eventually ripping right through your shirt. The torn fabric falls to the ground, unveiling your muscly physique and revealing a tattoo sprawled across one of your pecs.

Lenny continues to pull your shoulders until they're wider than your chest, giving you a masculine V shaped torso. And while he's at it, he massages your traps and causes them to triple in size, forming two solid humps of muscle on either side of your neck.

"It's looking good, but not down until we finish your back." He says as he circles behind you.

You feel his warm hands dig into your back, almost like a professional massage. Unbeknownst to you, though, he is creating waves of muscle up and down your back.

"We're almost done with your upper body, but those arms look pathetic compared to that body." Lenny swings back around in front of you. "I have an idea to fix it." He says with a devilish smile.

He grabs your right hand and sticks your thumb into his mouth. He starts to blow, and like a balloon your arm starts to inflate. Your bicep inflates to the size of an American football as veins start to surface, adding to the muscly look. Your forearm follows suit while a black tattoo forms over it. And finally your delicate hand grows into a thick calloused manly mitt. He then repeats the process on your left arm, creating a star tattoo on your shoulder and another black tattoo on your forearm.

"That completes the upper body, but those scrawny legs just won't do anymore." Lenny states as he looks at your severely top heavy body. And you couldn't agree more as your puny legs are struggling to hold up your hulking upper body.

"First let's get you some manly attire." Lenny snaps, and suddenly your short shorts are replaced by a rugged pair of jeans with a brown belt. The belt doesn't seem to be doing much though, as the pants are still much too big for you. That won't be a problem for long.

"Now let's get you an ass to be proud of." He chuckles to himself before wrapping his arms around you and cupping each of his hands on one of your cheeks. He squeezes your flat ass, pumping it up with each squeeze. You feel the shelf form behind you as your pants get tighter and tighter until they feel like they're about to explode. Lenny finally lets go, making your cheeks bounce as they fall into place.

"Now that I see it, that bulge is basically non existent. Let's fix that." Lenny grabs your crotch and pulls up, aggressively handling your cock and balls. A visceral erotic sensation shoots up your muscular body as he handles your meat. Though you can't help but notice a pressure rising in your pants. Your now tennis ball sized testies are being squished between your legs and your thickening cock is struggling to tuck inside your pant leg. You let out a moan, the first noise you've been able to make and it shocks you how deep your voice comes out. You almost don't recognize it. Though that's the least of your concerns as Lenny finishes his final touches to your crotch. An unmistakable outline of your cock is permanently etched into a bulge in your pants, 10 inches long and as thick as a pop can. No pants you could ever wear will hide that monster from the world.

"You're coming along perfectly, but you're not done yet." Lenny says as he kneels down. "Time to fix these chicken legs."

He grabs your legs, slowly sliding his hands down your pant leg. Your thighs inflate as his hands glide by, making them double in size with muscle and fat. They're so thick that they permanently rub together, even when you try to spread your legs. If your balls weren't squished before, they sure are now. His hands then glide down your calves, leaving them thicker than your thighs used to be.

"Hmmm, these runners won't do. It just doesn't suit you. Some cowboy boots would suit your style much better." He snaps again and your brand new running shoes are gone, replaced by some massive size 20 cowboy boots with the spurs and all.

Lenny steps back and takes a moment to admire his work. "You're lookin good, but there are some details I need to get right before I work on your face."

He starts brushing his hands across different parts of your body. First across your chest, growing thick brown hairs all over your pecs. Then a light dusting over your stomach, arms, and back. Finally you feel an itchy sensation take over your legs as a forest of brown hair engulfs the lower half of your body.

He yet again takes a step back to get a good look at you. "Oh right! I almost forgot to fix your height, 5"8 just isn't gonna cut it."

He first grabs your legs and stretches them by 3 inches, temporarily making you look out of proportion. But he quickly fixes it by lifting up your shoulders, causing your torso to stretch 5 inches. This leaves you at an intimidating 6"4, making you tower over your boyfriend. The longer body really makes you look more manly, and gives more room to show off that six pack.

"And now there's nothing but your face. Don't get me wrong, your face is pretty, but it just doesn't match the rest of your body. So we're gonna have to change it."

Lenny starts by squaring off your jaw and making it sharper, accentuating your chiselled features. He then shaves your head, leaving a short buzz cut in place of your lucious locks.

"Let's give you some more manly features while we're at it."

He pulls out your browline, giving you a simpler and manlier look. Then he thickens your nose, complimenting your square jaw. And he pushed in your cheeks, making you look more mature. Speaking of mature, Lenny has much older plans for you. He starts by receding your hairline slightly, not enough to make you look like your balding but just enough to make you look mature. He massages your skin, forming wrinkles around your forehead, mouth, and eyes, though he makes sure not to touch those beautiful eyes if your. And finally he rubs his hands across your jaw and upper lip, leaving behind a somewhat patchy beard and moustache on your face.

"Now to deal with that pesky brain of yours." Lenny says as he rubs his thumbs over your temples. Suddenly it's getting hard for you to think. What was your name again? What do you do for work? What are your hobbies? You can't seem to remember anything, not even the grueling transformation that your body just went through.

"That should do it." Lenny smiles as he pulls his hands away from your head.

Ahh that's better, so much easier to think. You remember that your name is Bruce and you're a 43 year old farmer.

"What are you looking at son?" You ask Lenny in a deep southern accent.

"You're eyes, they're very pretty you know." He responds.

"You goin make me blush boy." You flash a rare smile as you pull Lenny in for a kiss.

[spongeyspot]

Toxic Traits/Red Flags HC

Characters: Arthur, Javier, John, Lenny, Dutch, Micah, Charles, Sean, Hosea, Mary Beth, Abigail, Tilly, Karen, Sadie, Molly

(A/N): WE WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT THIS DAWG. I LOVED @cowboyfromh3ll 's take on that shit sm and these hcs have literally been swimming in my head for weeeeeeeeks bro

Edit: some of these were kinda hard because there's not a lot of bad in the characters themselves... I had trouble with specifically Charles, Lenny, Mary Beth, and Tilly. Sorry if they may be OOC. IM EVEN DOING THE GIRLS BECAUSE IM IN A SILLY GOOFY MOOD

Content Warning: female reader, jealousy, self hate, narcissism, gaslighting, physical abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, mentions of murder and violence, mentions of infidelity, mentions of sex (Sean, Micah, Sadie kind of) (MINORS DNI)

Not edited btw

The boys

Arthur Morgan

- Honestly, I feel like Arthur would have this insane, crippling fear of rejection, especially when it comes to dating. - His self hate/deprecation plays a huge part in this, and quite honestly, him and Mary not working out probably also probably contributed to it. - Very emotionally distant. Has a hard time expressing his feelings openly due to that same fear of rejection.🚩 - Bottles shit up until he feels like he's gonna explode 🚩 - His impulse control is almost nonexistent 🚩 - Will resort to saying things that he doesn't even mean. He just says things when he's angry🚩 - Will hate himself even more if he makes you cry - Won't hesitate to run away from camp for a while to cool off. This isn't necessarily a bad thing per se, but he usually takes his time away to overthink the fuck out of everything - Prone to acting violent. (not to someone he cared about, but to other people, absolutely)Also due to his poor impulse control. 🚩

Javier Escuella

- Has a flirty personality, but around women, it just seems to get worse. 🚩 - Tells you you're overreacting if you tell him it bothers you🚩 - Overprotective of you. Always has his eyes on you, and practically orders you to stay in camp where it's safe. - As if you step one foot outside the camp without him, you'll spontaneously drop dead - Jealous asf. Are you laughing at what Bill just said? It wasn't even that funny. Why are you standing so close to him? You should be at least 6 feet away from him, not 5 and a half. 🚩 - Also has a problem with how you dress sometimes. God forbid your shirt is ever low cut. He'd probably ask you to change. 🚩 - And if you get offended or upset, he'll lie and tell you it's because he can't stop staring at your chest, and he'd like to focus of whatever it was he was doing.🚩

John Marston

- Stubborn as all hell. Doesn't listen to anybody for anything.🚩 - Commitment issues up the ass - Says mean things out of anger and sometimes actually means them 🚩 - Won't apologize half the time. He thinks kissing it better actually makes it better 🚩 - Regularly ignores his own bad habits instead of actually facing them 🚩 - Will run away from problems like Arthur, but worse. He'd be gone a really long time.🚩 - Gets annoyed with you if you get angry at him for leaving and staying away for a while. He told you he needed space, didn't he? What else do you need from him?? 🚩 - Ignorantly clueless half the time. Head empty, no thoughts.

Lenny Summers

- Not assertive in the slightest, and usually, respectfully, keeps to himself. -Takes orders without verbal complaints but inside he's annoyed as fuck 🚩 - Even if he hates doing something he'll probably just go "Okay" and do it anyway, and he'll sulk all day afterwards - Refuses to tell you what's wrong because he thinks he'll sound childish.🚩 - If you push the issue, he might snap at you out of annoyance like "Would you just let it be??" - Immediately feels guilty and shameful, and he'll hide away until he's ready to apologize and face you again - Also kind of a know-it-all... He'll correct you a LOT. It would get annoying 🚩 - Would blatantly tell you you're wrong before correcting you🚩 - Not necessarily an asshole about it but he still tends to get under your skin sometimes

Dutch Van Der Linde

- The BIGGEST Narcissist you'll ever meet.🚩 -He loses another piece of his mental state with every breath he takes. Slowly but surely losing his mind.🚩 - King of gaslighting🚩 - How could you even think that about him? He could never do anything wrong! You must be crazy...🚩 - Tries to recite his "pretty words" from Evelyn Miller to try and sound smarter than he actually is 🚩 - Expects you to just feed his ego without him actually doing anything to earn it🚩 - Will try to correct you even when he's wrong🚩 - Refuses to admit he's wrong. He can never be wrong. That word isn't even in his vocabulary unless he's talking about literally anyone but himself🚩

Micah Bell

- Where do I even start with this guy - Not above putting his hands on you if he doesn't get his way. Let's be honest here.🚩 - Mega Narccisist, almost as bad as Dutch 🚩 - Will brag and share every sexual encounter you've ever had with him like he's talking about the weather🚩 - VERY prone to Violence 🚩 - NO impulse control. Murders people for fun.🚩 - Backhanded and borderline abusive compliments 24/7 "You'd look so good if you weren't so fucking fat..." 🚩 - Selfish lover. Thinks just sticking it in will do the trick, and it does, for him at least.🚩 - Little to no affection. What are you? His girlfriend? Wait...🚩 -If he actually does show you affection, and you react in surprise, he'll tell you to go fuck yourself, and that that's the last time he ever does anything nice for you.🚩

Charles Smith

- Impossible to read sometimes - Like Arthur, Charles tends to keep a lot of his emotions bottled up until he feels like he's gonna pop 🚩 - Like most of the men in the Van Der Linde gang, Charles is also prone to acting violently. I mean, he started a bar fight with a fucking chair, and he fights in street fighting rings, let's be real for a second.🚩 - He's incredibly quiet and reserved a lot of the time, and sometimes you just assume that he's listening to you when you talk, but a lot of the time, he's lost in his own thoughts. - Will do everything anyone asks him to at the expense of his own free time and energy, and sometimes he works himself to exhaustion just to try and please everyone.🚩 - In doing so, he sometimes doesn't have time for himself at the end of the day. It also seems like you spend time together less and less as the days go on. - If he ever got himself hurt and you tried to help him, he'd decline any help with anything to save his own pride. The last thing he needs is you thinking he's weak. 🚩 - Extremely Overprotective. Like to the point where he'd beat the shit out of anybody you asked him to🚩

Sean Macguire

- An Alcoholic🚩 - horny 99% of the time, but half that time he probably has whiskey dick. Still asks you to try but doesn't understand that it's like trying to play pool with a rope... - If he can manage to be sober enough to actually get it up, and you're not in the mood, he'd get pissy and annoyed with you for "wasting his boner" 🚩 - Will probably also brag about having sex with you to everyone🚩 - Needy as all hell - Bro sulks on purpose - Low key loves the attention you give him when you continue to ask him what's wrong, but he never actually tells you and constantly says "I'm fine..." or "It's nothing..." 🚩 - But then sighs dramatically and continues sulking and dragging his feet so you keep giving him more attention 🚩

Hosea Matthews

- Ignores his physical health until he's practically dying. You've told him to get that cough looked at for literal years and he just says "I will" and does nothing 🚩 - sometimes talks to you as if you're a child especially if he's around Dutch -low key gaslights you sometimes 🚩 - and he says it with such a gentle tone, its hard to catch it 🚩

The girls

Mary Beth Gaskill

- Daydreams way too much - Likes to live in her romance novel fantasy land rather than face reality 🚩 - Cries a lot - Tries to be angry but can't help but cry instead - If crying makes you feel bad for her, she'll probably do it on purpose so you comfort her and give her attention🚩 -If you're in a fight, she'll turn on the crocodile tears to get you to stop being angry with her or whatever it is you're arguing about.🚩

Abigail Roberts

- She can be verbally abusive if she's pushed far enough 🚩 - Holds in a lot of her emotions🚩 - Neglectful of her own personal needs to make sure you or Jack are fully provided or cared for🚩 - a lot of the time, when she's upset with you, you're probably given the cold shoulder and the silent treatment - incredibly protective. Not necessarily a bad thing, but she can sometimes be super overbearing.

Tilly Jackson

- Tells it how she sees it, sometimes accidentally sounding a lot colder than she means to 🚩 - Too sarcastic for her own good 🚩 - Laughs a little too much sometimes when you tell a joke, and you can often tell it's actually incredibly fake🚩 - gets irritated really easily, especially if she's bothered while doing her chores. The last thing she needs is Grimshaw on her ass again.🚩 - irritable a lot of the time, unintentionally becoming short or snapping at you - like john, she also believes that kissing it better is better than actually apologizing

Karen Jones

- An alcoholic 🚩 - picks fights with you for fun, finds it entertaining to see how red your face can get from anger 🚩 - Screaming matches are a regular occurance between you guys, and she starts it almost every time 🚩 - Pretty jealous when it comes to the opposite sex🚩 - Has self doubt and believes that she can't give you everything a man probably could

Sadie Adler

- The nosiest woman in America. No chill. She reads everyone's mail. - Makes a lot of loose threats 🚩 - Anger issues🚩 - Low impulse control🚩 - Can be a little too rough sometimes 🚩 - If she's upset with you, she'll either yell or storm off. Sometimes both. 🚩 -(She tends to walk away a lot more often because she's actuall self aware that her anger issues are a problem) - She'd never admit that to you though.

Molly O'Shea

- Even more jealous than Javier🚩 - Glares at and envies anyone you talk to that isn't her🚩 - Has immaginary conversations with people in her head🚩 - Rubbing her hands together when the real life conversations are following the script she had planned out in her brain - Needs constant reassurance - "D'you even love me anymore?!"🚩 - Overthinks everything 🚩 - Paranoid as hell about infidelity - Gets mad at you when she dreams about you cheating on her🚩

[nthspecialll]

The fandom glorifies Arthur Morgan

Now I am not talking about about low honor, I play high honor and got it as the top at the end of every damn playthrough but my Arthur, as it is the cannon Arthur, is not a good guy. I am not going to talk about all of the murder, robbing and stuff he does, because we are majorly aware of it, I am talking his sexism, casual ignorance and disrespecfulness.

I quite often see people say that Arthur Morgan is a woman lover, and he definitely is, he is better than a lot of men from that time (which isn't hard), but he would not hold up in modern times, because he is not from modern times.

Generally speaking, Arthur Morgan is a man who believes in gender roles, he believes in the idea of "a man being a man" and "a woman being a woman." He has opinions about what a woman should do and what a man should do.

I think the biggest hint at this is his relationship with Sadie, because while he accepts her running with the boys he doesn't seem entirely happy about it. "You got a pair of pants and all of a sudden you think you're Landon Ricketts?" "You want to ruuuunnnn with the men?" and also "can Ms Grimshaw spare you?" when the girls asks if they can come to Valentine with him.

Talking of that quest, when he runs off to get Jimmy Brooks he puts Uncle, a lazy old bastard, in charge of getting the girls home even though they are more than capable of doing it themselves as they are healthy young women who knows how to handle horses.

In several antagonize lines against women performers (which are just as cannon as his greet lines) he shouts things like "That isn't very ladylike!" or "Go back to the kitchen" and "go make someone supper."

People keep saying Arthur would "treat them right" and he would, to an extent, he would care for you, he would be nice to you, but he would force those gender roles. He does have a belief women are somehow "softer" and that he as a person with a provider gene should do more of the harsh work.

So now we covered that, lets talk about the racism, or as I probably should rather call it, ignorance, because it is very commonly know Arthur does not judge by the color of skin.

The first one is that Arthur uses the whites-only saloon in Rhodes. Tilly mentions it to Arthur that they don't allow people of color into it, and yet he still supports it, it isn't a big thing but it is something of notice.

Secondly, when he talks to Eagle Flies where he "sets him in his place" Arthur, honey, you are so wrong here. Eagle Flies is being chased by the government for the mere fact that he exists with a different culture, you are being chased because you murdered so many folks, you can run across the sea and live a good life, they are fucked regardless.

When we first arrive in Lemoyne, Lenny and Arthur talks about the Lemoyne Raiders about racism and Arthur says "These boys got a manner about them but I haven't particularly noticed," Arthur of course you wouldn't, you are a tall, muscular, white man with sun kissed hair and blue eyes, you are the poster boy for eugenics.

Lastly, which will also bring me to the third point, the casual disrespect:

Arthur causally calling Javier a slur on the boat for no reason, did you really need that one-liner so badly? That goes for a lot of times in the game such as: "are you secretly normal" "what a lunatic" "we should find a better story for that scar" "But you continue to irritate me, I will kill you and make my appologies to the lady" "stick around and you might die for her as well" "oh I didn't know I was talking to a lady." All those were a slight bit disrespectful, enough to be able to annoy the majority of us if he said it to us, and they were also unnecessary.

He is also canonically chronically late, most notably we can hear Sean saying "that man will be late to his own funeral," and when you go around antagonizing characters in camp they are not surprised at all, rather they go "back at it again huh?"

All of this is just to sum up, Arthur is a pretty bad man (also counting in all the illegal stuff) and we tend to glorify him and forget some of these things, partly is also because Rockstar are amazing at hiding them, at making them seem natural, and they are because this is a historically accurate game! It is set in 1899 and this is a man from 1899 he is going to be casually sexist and disrespectful, and again, considering that he is from 1899 he is a decent guy because the majority of folk would be like Micah, not Arthur.

I definitely love Arthur, and I love Arthur exactly because the point of his character is him not being a saint but a human. His redemption is choosing to do good where he can, but even so, this is a man in 1899 and he is going to have a 1899 mindset. If you want to play a game that is set in the past but don't have that type of accuracy it is not Red Dead you want to play.

Also here is an Arthur pic as a thank you for reading all of that. I love him.

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 2: CHARLES SMITH, THE MAN THAT YOU ARE 

synopsis: charles makes sure you're getting on okay as you continue to try to evade arthur (poorly, might i add).

word count: 3k

ships: Arthur Morgan/Modern!Reader, Van der Linde Gang & Reader

notes: i almost leaked this to my classmate when sending her a link. nearly shat myself but we're all good this is all still under wraps

TOSoA taglist: @one-green-frog (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask <3!!)

THE OLD SOUL OF AMERICA MASTERLIST

Charles was right. Even though you want to help, there’s really nothing to do besides hunt – and the good Lord knows you’re useless when it comes to that.

For the last day or so, you’ve just been hanging around the garage-made-kitchen. Even though Javier told you you weren’t intruding (and that “everyone needs shelter”), you feel like you are. It’s not a good feeling. So you stayed outside, in the company of a man who introduced himself as Simon Pearson and the camp cook, Charles, and occasionally Javier when he found the time to swing by. 

A fair few people have introduced themselves as well – Hosea Matthews, Bill Williamson, Lenny Summers, Reverend Orville Swanson, Leopold Strauss (who just oozed sleaze), Miss Karen Jones, Miss Tilly Jackson, Miss Mary-Beth Gaskill, and little Jack alongside his mother, Miss Abigail Roberts. Those who didn’t directly introduce themselves to you were pointed out by Karen and you were given a run-down on them.

So far, these are the people as you know them: Missus Sadie Adler is a grieving, skittish widow. Uncle is a lazy sack of shit. John Marston is better at being wolf food than being a father. Miss Susan Grimshaw is stubborn (but caring – somewhat like how neighborhood mamas care). Miss Molly O’Shea has a stick so far up her ass she spits splinters when she talks. The man tied up in the barn, Kieran Duffy, is an O’Driscoll (or ex-O’Driscoll, if what he insists is true is really true). Oh – and the blond man that punched Bill? That’s Micah Bell: a man with the eye of a viper tasting the air and the nose of a shark waiting for blood in the water. From what you’ve deduced, his general vibe is “I would take sexual relationship advice from Bill Cosby if given the chance.”

All in all, a healthily diverse group of people – even if the traits that make them diverse aren’t all that desirable. (Mostly Micah’s. Especially Micah’s.)

But Charles is nice enough. So you’ve stuck with Charles. Even if you need to hang around Pearson to hang out with him. Pearson isn’t an intrinsically bad guy, just… a little off-putting.

Right now, you’re able to put your hands to use by opening canned vegetables and putting them in the cauldron-looking pot Pearson has for rabbit stew. Across the table, Charles is butchering and deboning a rabbit as best he can with his injured hand. You try your best to keep your eyes on the cans of carrots and celery you’re opening. 

There’s footsteps. You glance up. It’s Arthur. You look back down. 

“I can’t believe it’s come to this,” Pearson gripes to no one in particular. 

You watch Arthur approach the fire and he holds his hands out towards the coals in your peripheral vision. He shakes his head. “Ah, we’re okay.”

“We have a few cans of food and a rabbit. For, what – ten, twelve people?” Pearson gestures over to where you and Charles are working. “Even more with them and that widow.”

Despite yourself, you can feel the tips of your ears start to burn. What do you have to be embarrassed about? Needing to eat? If anything, Pearson should be the one feeling embarrassed for talking about you in front of you. Yeah… that’s it. 

Pearson continues. “When I was in the Navy…”

Arthur immediately interrupts him. “I – I do not wish to hear about what you got up to in the Navy, Mister Pearson.”

And yet, he keeps going despite Arthur’s protest. “We were stranded at sea… for fifty days.”

“And you, unfortunately, survived,” Arthur drawls. 

You glance up at him from underneath your eyelashes and smile. His eye catches yours, and your gaze drops, as does your smile. Instead, you work on getting your finger under the tab of a can of chopped onions – which is hard, considering the thickness of your gloves.

You feel Arthur’s eyes leave you and let out a soft sigh of relief that clouds in front of your face. Charles holds out his knife to you. You tip the top of the can towards him, and he wedges the (bloody – ew) blade of his knife underneath the tab and opens it. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. You clench your jaw when you feel Arthur’s eyes on you again – yes, very briefly, but still. You can count the number of times you’ve made eye contact with him on one hand, and you don’t want to add to that total. 

Thankfully, Pearson seems ignorant to your plight and continues complaining. “When we ran away from Blackwater, I wasn’t able to get supplies in!”

“Well, when government agents are hunting you down, sometimes shopping trips need to be cut short,” Arthur snaps. “We’ll survive. We always have. And if needs be, we can eat you – you’re the fattest.”

You bite your lip to suppress a laugh and clear your throat to mask any noise you might’ve made. You pour the onions in the pot and glance at the rabbit carcass, now carved up and stripped of meat.

“Damn, there’s nothing left on that thing,” you say. “You’re good at that.”

Charles nods in response. “If you’re done, you can put it on the fire.”

You lift the pot with a grunt – it’s heavier than you expected, but nothing you can’t handle. You move over to the coals and hang the pot on a hook over the fire while Pearson and Arthur continue talking. 

“I sent Lenny and Bill hunting, and they found nothing,” Pearson says. 

“Well, Lenny’s more into book learnin’ than huntin’,” Arthur says. You perk up at that. “Bill’s a fool. Unless those mountains are full of game that wanna read, ain’t no wonder they haven’t found –”

“Enough of this,” Charles interrupts. Even though his voice is relatively quiet and deep, it still cuts through whatever Arthur was planning on prattling on about. “We’ll go find something. Come on, Arthur.”

“Well, take them.” Arthur gestures vaguely in your direction. “Since they seem so keen on helpin’ out, and all.”

“I, um…” You shake your head. “No, thanks.”

“They don’t even know how to hold a rifle correctly,” Charles says. (His bluntness stings a little, but it’s true. You know how to hold a handgun, but not these old-timey types.) “If they knew how to hunt, we would’ve gone already.”

Arthur sighs and shrugs. “If you insist.”

“Wait a second, hold on.” Pearson hurries over to the table you and Charles had been working at earlier. He pulls out a can from the small pile you had organized and tosses it to Arthur. “You’re gonna need something to eat out there.”

“Hm… “assorted, salted offal”,” Arthur reads off the label. He levels Pearson with a dead stare. “Starving would be preferable.”

You stifle a laugh and, again, clear your throat.

“Come on, let’s go,” Charles says, adjusting the bandage on his hand. 

“You can’t go huntin’,” Arthur says. “Look at your hand.”

“I can’t stay here listening to you two,” Charles says. He gestures to you without looking at you. “The conversation they make is tolerable, but, again, they can’t hunt. Look, if there’s game in those hills, I’ll find it – and you can kill it.”

“You need to rest, Charles,” Arthur insists.

“You think this is rest?” Charles’ face twists into a scowl, then he turns and walks towards his horse with a “Come along.”

Arthur scoffs under his breath and his eyes flick to you. You do your best to suppress the temptation to duck away from his gaze, as piercing as it is. You win, and he looks away, following Charles to the hitching post. They quickly mount up and ride out.

You draw your shoulders up to your ears and shudder. When Pearson shoots you a questioning glance, you excuse it with “What? It’s cold.”

When a few seconds have passed, you roll your shoulders back. You settle down on the chair that’s inside the kitchen, just watching a few late, fat snowflakes fall outside.

After a good ten minutes of watching Pearson and playing with your hands, you figure he’ll be fine on his own and wander out along the footpaths in the snow. You find who you’re looking for quickly. 

Lenny gives you a polite nod as you stand across from him, the fire on the ground separating you two. He has a rifle – the sight of which doesn’t surprise you as much as it first did – and he settles the butt of the gun in the inner corner of his elbow. 

“You’re Lenny, right?” You try. 

“Yeah. And you’re…” Lenny gives your name. You nod in response.

“I just…” You clear your throat and bat away the embarrassment and anxiety that’s creeping up on you – something that always comes with approaching strangers. “Arthur mentioned that you like books. I, uh… I read, too. Sometimes.”

“Really?” Lenny says. “What kinda books have they got out in the Mojave?”

You look down at the fire and think, trying to come up with some excuse and build your backstory. “We don’t have a lot of books – I live in a pretty isolated part of the desert. But there’s traders, and they bring medical books, and a few storybooks. I like the medicine books they bring. You?”

Lenny seems to hesitate for a moment. “Poetry.”

“Poetry?” You hum. “Huh. Poems are nice.”

There’s a lapse in conversation. You don’t know how to fill it. You say the first thing that comes to mind. 

“Micah’s kinda a prick, right?” You blurt out. 

Your eyes snap up to Lenny’s face. He’s surprised, but his face quickly melts into a smile and he laughs. You feel the coil of anxiety in your stomach loosen. 

“Why, I didn’t expect you to come out and say it,” he says. “But your assessment is correct.”

“Yeah, sorry.” You laugh nervously, your eyes falling to the fire again. “I just get bad vibes from the guy.”

“Bad vibes?” Lenny echoes. 

The coil is tight again. You think for a moment. “Uh, yeah. One of the tribes I live with believes in, um… vibrational energy, that kinda thing. When you look at someone and you get a bad feeling without knowing them that well, they give you bad vibes.”

“Hold on,” Lenny says. “Vibrational energy?”

You nod and continue to pull things out of your ass and curse Lenny for being scholarly. “Yeah. Life… um, well. I don’t remember the explanation too well. But I remember White Bird – the Sorrows’ shaman – saying…”

You tilt your head and look to the side and think for a moment.  “He said, “All life is music – all music is rhythmic – all rhythm is life.” And that somehow relates to vibrations. I don’t know, you seem smart. Maybe you can understand what he was talking about.”

“Well, I don’t know what it means, but it sure sounds pretty,” Lenny says. 

“They’re good people,” you say. “Maybe you’d like to meet them someday – if you’re ever so far west you’re in the desert, I mean.”

Why the fuck did I say that?! You curse yourself in your head. They’re not real! The Dead Horses and the Sorrows and Joshua Graham and Daniel are all made up! They’re fictional characters –

“I don’t know, maybe,” Lenny says. “For now, it doesn’t seem like we’ll be goin’ that far.”

You hum and pretend to act disappointed while you fight the urge to crumple in on yourself in relief. “That’s a shame. I’m sure you’d like them. They’re interesting people, especially the Sorrows. Though, Joshua…”

You trail off as you check over your shoulder. Hoofbeats, you’re pretty sure. And you’re right – Arthur and Charles are riding back into camp, a dead, snow-dappled doe on the back of each horse.

“Brought some food back, boys,” Arthur calls.

They both hitch their horses at the post and hoist the limp does onto their shoulders, carrying them over to the kitchen. 

You look back at Lenny and jab a thumb over your shoulder at them. “Should we…?”

“I don’t think so,” Lenny says. “From what I seen, Arthur’s a butcher – a mean one, at that. I don’t think he’ll like it if his work’s disturbed.”

“That’s fair,” you hum. (Secretly, you want to thank Lenny profusely. You already know that Arthur’s a mean man – you don’t want to see him even meaner.)

You check over your shoulder again. From where you’re standing, you can see an old man has taken your seat in the kitchen, and you can hear Arthur giving him hell for whatever reason. What was his name again… Uncle, maybe?

Unfortunately, your staring caught Uncle’s eye. He beckons you over with a wave of his hand. You give Lenny a quiet, polite “See you later,” and head over, trudging through the thick layer of snow that’s settled on the ground.

“Yeah?” You nod at Uncle as soon as you step into the kitchen. You sidle up to the fire, warming yourself with the smoldering embers. 

“Thought it’d do Arthur some good to see the…” – Uncle waves you up-and-down – “…wonders some modernity will do you.”

“What? Modernity?” You repeat back. You tell yourself to calm down – you haven’t been found out. (Not yet.) “I’m far from modern.”

“Why, you’re perfectly modern!” Uncle says. 

“You don’t even know me.” You scoff and turn away. 

Your eyes catch Arthur wrapping wire around the back ankles of one of the doe corpses. He pulls it taut, then hooks both legs to the deer hoist. He lifts it with a grunt and puts the hoist on the hook sticking out of the wall. You avert your eyes before he turns around. 

“Well, I mean…” You shrug. “I guess I’m… sort of modern? But I don’t see any issue with what Arthur’s doing. He’s just hunting.”

Arthur’s eyes fly to you again when you say his name. You wish that the Spanish Flu had come sooner so you could wear a facemask to hide your pursed lips and clenched jaw. After a moment, he looks away.

“What a surprise,” Arthur drawls, “to find the camp rat loiterin’ around in the kitchen, chargin’ dimes for his thoughts.”

He pulls away from the deer hoist and walks over to the fire. He keeps a healthy distance, but you can still feel some sort of heat coming from him when he stands next to you. You guess a man that tall and broad would be a furnace in cold like this. 

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” Uncle asks. “I feel we haven’t spoken for days.”

“I do my utmost to avoid you,” Arthur retorts.

Charles approaches the fire, standing on your other side. He gives you a small look that says “Ignore them. They can, and will, go on for hours like this.”

Uncle looks over at you and laughs. “He loves me, really. It’s his… sad way of showing affection.”

“I doubt that.”

“No, it isn’t.”

You and Arthur turn to look at each other. You hadn’t meant to speak over him, and from the kind of-surprised look he’s sending your way, you think he didn’t mean to speak over you, either. You nod, gesturing for him to continue.

“It isn’t.” He turns back to face Uncle and waves a hand. “Now shoot, get lost.”

“Well…” Uncle shrugs and stands. “See y’all later.”

Pearson swipes a bottle from Uncle as he steps out. He then looks over at one of the deer. “See you got on just fine.”

Arthur nods toward Charles’ direction. “Charles is a wonder.”

“Have a drink, my friends.” Pearson holds out the bottle across the fire. “Ya earned it.”

Arthur takes the bottle after you wave it away. He takes a swig and sputters, coughing. “Jesus!” His voice cracks. “What is that?”

He passes the bottle to Charles, who sniffs the rim and takes a tentative sip. 

“Navy rum, sir. It’s the only thing – the only thing!” Pearson laughs as Charles hands the bottle back. “Keeps you sane, it does.”

“Yes, seems to have done a treat on you.” Arthur glances at Charles and waves a hand in his general direction. “You go rest that hand, Charles.”

“I’ll be fine in a few days,” Charles says. 

He makes eye contact with you and nods towards the cabins, indicating for you to follow. You do so while listening to Arthur and Pearson talk about skinning the deer. (And you hide a smile when Arthur asks Pearson if he gets to skin him, too. He’s mean, but at least he’s funny with it.)

“You settling in okay?” Charles asks when you’re in a somewhat secluded area. It’s not all that isolated, but it’s out of earshot for most people.

“Yeah.” You nod. “Thanks. For… y’know. Not being a massive asshole about everything.”

“You’re lost,” he says. (You notice he leaves out the very obvious “and scared” he could’ve tacked on the end.) “And you need help. It would be cruel not to give it to you.”

Yeah, totally! You think to yourself. You’re literally one of the kindest people alive and I’m… what? A scumbag that’s taking advantage of you? Oh, it’s so sweet that you’re ignoring the blatant lies I’m throwing in your face! Thank you, Charles! Thanks a fucking million.

“Still. Thank you,” you say instead. “You could’ve easily kicked me out in the snow and left me to freeze.” 

“We could’ve.” Charles looks out at the horizon. The way he pauses almost makes you think he’s considering it. “But we didn’t.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. You didn’t.”

Apparently, he doesn’t feel the need to reassure you or continue the conversation at all. After a few moments, you awkwardly hook your thumb over your shoulder.

“I’m gonna, uh…” You nod. “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you later?”

Charles is still looking out at the treeline, looking at the way the snow weighs down the leafless trees and the way even the smallest sound could disrupt everything. 

“Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

[ceirinen]

December 2023

I decided to make a list of every fic I read each month.

I would like to interact more, but life has been complicated recently and when it comes to interacting, I get very anxious which is something I'm trying to overcome.

So, here I made this to appreciate such amazing writers and stories that inspire me and others everyday. To the authors, I want to thank them for their dedication and time spent on writing to offer us fascinating stories.

I totally recommend their work.

(If you are in this list and you don't want to, please let me know so I can fix it).

@cillianmesoftlyyy

So New | Cillian Murphy x fem!reader Method Acting | young!Cillian Murphy x Reader

@runnning-outof-time

Research | Tommy Shelby x Reader Bedtime Stories | Tommy Shelby x Reader & Daughter

@zablife

teacher!Luca Changretta x Reader Funeral | Tommy Shelby x sister!reader A Visit to the Peaky Blinders Set | Cillian Murphy x wife!reader

@gypsy-girl-08

Festive Spirit | modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader All I Need... | modern!Thomas Shelby x Reader A Gentle Warning | Thomas Shelby x wife!Reader

@pacifymebby

Arthur Shelby x Reader

@fkmarrycill

Pre-Gaming | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@holacia3

Lost and Lucky | modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader Surprise visit | modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

@beastofburdenxo

Let Me Praise You | Tommy Shelby x Reader Raising Catherine | Tommy Shelby x Reader

@look-at-the-soul

If I let you go | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@your-nanas-house

What does my princess want? | sugar daddy!Cillian Murphy x sugar baby!reader I'm pretty sure you're mine | sub!William Killick x dom!fem!Reader What are we, idiot? | Neil Lewis x best friend!Reader Thirsty | Tommy Shelby x secretary!Reader

@raincoffeeandfandoms

To the end of the world | Alfie Solomons x fem!oc Tommy, the teddy bear | Alfie Solomons x fem!oc Emergency surgery | baby!Tommy Shelby Fanfiction | Alfie Solomons x fem!oc Anon | Alfie Solomons

@lis-likes-fics

Loner | Edward Cullen x Reader At the End of the Day | Tommy Shelby x wife!Reader

@rafeology

Mentor!Finnick Odair x victor!reader

@wife-of-all-dilfs

Flower Therapy | Finnick Odair x Reader

@darlingsfandom

Cillian Murphy x Reader Tommy Shelby x artist!reader Soft sugar daddy | Robert Fischer x Reader

@pinguwrites

Home Is Where the Heart Is | William Killick x future!reader

@http-finnick

Skin to skin | Finnick Odair x fem!insomniac!reader

@acewritesfics

Lost Love | Tommy Shelby x Reader 36 Minutes | modern! Tommy Shelby x Reader

@dearshelby

Had you first | Tommy Shelby x Reader Little Tommy | Thomas Shelby x oc

@lau219

Red Carpet | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@peakyswritings

I Do Bad Things | demon!Tommy x Reader

@shelbystales

Ceramic Lessons | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@darthannie

Day eighteen: breeding kink with Lenny Miller | Lenny Miller x f!Reader

@hllywdwhre

Afterglow | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@red-write-hand

I'll be home for Christmas | Thomas Shelby x Reader

@mysaintkitten

Bad Behaviour | Mike Kiernan x fem!Reader

@notyour-valentine

The Spirits that I summoned | young!Tommy Shelby

@brummiereader

No Son Of Mine | Tommy Shelby

@youbyradiohead

Strawberry Syrup | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@cillianthinker

British accent | Cillian Murphy x Reader Young and in love | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@cillspropertea

Coming home | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@cillmequick

Operation Christmas Tree | modern!Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

[sgiandubh]

Anon rebelde.

Detecto un nerviosismo muy revelador en Mordor. La finalización del rodaje abre un escenario nuevo acerca de las posibles interacciones de Sam y Cait fuera de esa burbuja de trabajo, ya sabes, solo es fan service por lo tanto nuevo tablero de juego con unas fichas que se pueden mover, hasta cierto punto porque no olvidemos que queda todo lo relacionado con la 8 y última temporada, libremente. Y hay una cosa que me intriga acerca de los planes futuros de Cait. Mordor da por hecho que va a permanecer en UK ya que esa casa que compró va a ser su residencia habitual pero las ultimas noticias de hace ya tiempo era que esa residencia estaba inhabitable y me pregunto si ese factor ya está resuelto. Por supuesto dejo en tus manos actualizar esta duda.

Dear (returning) Anon Rebelde,

Lamento mucho la respuesta tardía a tu mensaje. Como siempre, el otoño parece ser esa época del año en la que las cosas se aceleran, por algún motivo aún oscuro, hasta ese agradable paroxismo navideño. Pero, sin más dilación, traduzcamos primero lo que me enviaste:

'I'm sensing a very revealing nervousness in Mordor. The end of filming opens a new scenario regarding the possible interactions between Sam and Cait outside of that work bubble (you know, it's just fan service), and so we've got a new game board with pieces that can be moved, to a certain point, because let's not forget that everything related to the 8th and final season still remains open. And there is one thing that intrigues me about Cait's future plans. Mordor assumes that she will remain in the UK since that house she bought will be her habitual residence, but the latest news from some time ago was that that residence was uninhabitable and I wonder if that factor has already been resolved. Of course, I leave it up to you to update this doubt.'

I don't think we need to comment more on the nervousness (you're elegant, I would rather call it hysteria) across the street. If these people are so damn RIGHT about everything, how come they seem to have completely blown a fuse, five minutes after their well-oiled, mean routine came to a brutal stop? Smooth operators (remember? LOL for an entire geological age) they are not, and never were; still, it's a thing to behold, just seeing the amount of clones trying to step into my backyard. You'd never make me believe that an entire battalion of newbies suddenly follow me, with empty pages and a whole list of shipper contacts to boot. And then we have those Anons, whose dull, morose perseverance is only matched by their obsessive cruelty. Anons who, mind you, are pretty much transparent in their style, punctuation and stylistic mannerisms - all of these always betray them, and yet they keep going on and on and on. Pretty mental, if you ask me.

The dubious advantage of answering late is that now we know C was eventually (and predictably) spotted in London, at an intimate dinner hosted by Jessica McCormack, a jewelry creator and Zoë Kravitz, Lenny's daughter and an actress in her own right. No family vacay in the sun with McGill and as soon out of Scotland as S - their pundits are worthless. We could logically assume a hefty part of her life will be spent in London, where all the glitz and the glam and the networking are, rather than in rainy and industrious Glasgow. And I cannot help but wonder what do all these people make of their own relationships, and the immediate vision I have is one of a very monotonous life, eons away from all that glamorous gypsiness. Which is quite alright, if you ask me. What is ridiculous, however, is to naively assume that everyone makes the same choices as them.

But you asked me about that house and I think it's time to share with you what I can share at the moment. For obvious reasons, I have obliterated the address and kept from the single document I am about to quote (there are several more in my possession) only the essential parts. The researcher I was, once upon a time, cringes at the thought. But it's better to be safe than sorry: encouraging stalking is certainly not a responsibility I am willing to take, even if the new address is known by all the factions of this fandom and even if the documents are public, therefore usable.

For context purposes, let's just remind that C's new "residence" is a high profile carriage house built in 1841 (featuring a wine cellar!), that one can see even on Wikipedia and in all the architectural guides of the city.

As such, it is protected by the national legislation and local regulation on heritage - the Scottish competent authority being Historic Environment Scotland (https://www.historicenvironment.scot/). They have a three-tiered listing system, with more or less flexible protection criteria and regulations. C's house is an A listed property ('outstanding example of a particular period, style or building type'):

It is a criminal offence to make any alterations to an A listed building without prior proper consent, on top of all the other planning permissions applications:

Any update or repair must, therefore, be vetted by the local city council, after a rather lengthy procedure of public consultation, where anyone (NGOs, but also private persons) can send comments. Quick aside, here: why would someone as private as C buy such a prominent property, situated on top of an elevation, nonetheless? I have my own idea about it, which is easy to guess, I suppose.

The house was bought in December 2022, for a hefty amount exceeding 2 millions GBP, way above its asking price of 1.6 million GBP:

Permission for further alterations was duly sought, several times. I will just mention one of those applications, which I could almost find comical (but no, I don't, really). Let's see where this takes us.

It took the new owners almost four months to submit the first application to the City Council. You'd say the architect's office was probably busy: fair enough. But then, this lackadaisical rhythm carried on, almost as if no prior strategy to address existing problems of the property and/or maximize the profit of a very expensive acquisition had ever existed. Almost as if one of the owners, or both of them didn't really GAF about the whole affair - and it is true and readily available online, that all the applications have been managed by ahem... The Manager himself or his appointed agents. C seemingly had nothing to do with the entire process: a bit curious, don't you think?

The second application (and the one I am going to talk about, here and now) was sent for consideration in July 2023, almost seven months after the sale was concluded. Curiously still, it aimed to widen the driveway entrance and make substantial changes to the entrance of the property. Discretion be damned, of course - how odd, huh?

It was flatly refused in September 2023 by the City Council, pending three objections from a neighbor and two national and local heritage protection charities/NGOs (Architectural Heritage Society of Scotland and Friends of Glasgow West):

With a bit of patience, you can read all the documents - they are not that hard to find, after all. I will not comment further upon them, as I find the above clear and enlightening enough. There is, however, one detail that definitely made me smile, remembering what brought me here first:

This, to be exact: 'the paving of the driveway (...) could lead to potential surface water/rainfall discharge onto the public footway and carriageway'.

As compared to this (remember? LOL):

[Remember: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/720483288334090240/it-all-starts-with-a-smoke-alarm]

There seems to be something odd going on between McGill and water damage. Carelessness, perhaps? I wouldn't dare presume.

Anyways. The entire permission tango with the City Council ended early March 2024. Since then, radio silence. The Taj Mahal stands empty, with not a sign of busy kerfuffle, as far as we know. I am well aware that the owners have three more years to go until the permission would be useless and they'd have to reapply again, but given the nature of the other planned updates (vacuum glazing, anyone?), I would doubt it is okay to wait until March 2027.

I hope this answered your question and I am once more grateful for your patience, Anon Rebelde.

[heavenlymorals]

Arthur Morgan's Depression

(Warning: Spoilers for RDR2 and mental health issues)

Arthur Morgan is depressed. Yes, I know the writers haven't exactly come out and said that he is depressed, but it does not take a genius to see that Arthur Morgan is a man who deals with many demons and monsters. Arthur Morgan has some sort of functional depression, and it is shown in many ways. In many missions, he seems downtrodden and sad, but he goes along with it anyway because what else can you do? He talks about himself in such a degrading manner in the mirror, and not just in a way that we all do sometimes, but in a way that invokes actual hatred of himself.

He thinks he's ugly when he's a conventionally attractive man. He thinks he's dumb when he's very witty and smart. He gets knocked down for his intelligence a lot by both Dutch and Hosea (we, as a fandom, need to stop pretending that Hosea is perfect because he really isn't). I know that dudes generally joke like that a lot, but those two aren't his “friends”; they are quite literally his father figures. It's different. His journal is filled with self-doubt, pain, and a general apathetic outlook on life.

But as I was playing “A Quiet Time,” one interaction between Lenny and Arthur stood out to me.

“Why ain't you never married?”

“'Cause no one will have me.”

In the context of this mission, I think this was written as an “oh damn” kinda joke, something out of left field to make the player laugh. But after thinking about it more, I realized something.

If you guys follow my posts, then you probably know that I love to interpret things from a sociocultural perspective—so let's do that.

Now, this is an obvious reference to Mary and how she rejected him in the end for Barry Linton to keep her family satisfied. It might also allude to Eliza or other female love interests that Arthur might've had at some point.

But it may also be a nod to the culture of 19th century America and what it entailed for men.

Arthur isn't married at 36 years old. Men were expected to be married generally by their twenties. He has no children or legacy—the only one he did have died years ago. He doesn't have property or a home—he's always on the move with the gang (given how defensive he got with that woman he picks up to go to Lagras, it's probably a point of insecurity). He has no respectable profession—he should've had an honest career by now.

He hopes that Dutch will get his shit together and have them put their outlaw ways behind them, but Dutch literally cannot, and Arthur is the one feeling the burn for it. He has missed so many milestones that he “should've” reached by this point, yet he is still doing the same thing he was doing since he was a young teen.

He can't bring himself to leave Dutch either, as he feels like he has a debt to pay to the man (“I gotta try! I owe him that, at least.”) that can never be paid.

And that has to fucking hurt. You already hate yourself on the outside by thinking you're hideous. You hate yourself on the inside because you think you're dumb. You feel unaccomplished, like a damn loser. And on top of all of that? You can't bring yourself to let go of all the factors that make you feel that way because “they're family” and “they need you.”

You're trapped, and everything feels awful. I'd be depressed too.

It might also be another reason why Arthur is jealous and angry at John. He has a wife, he has a child, he doesn't feel particularly obligated to the gang (hence leaving for a year), he has a chance to do better, and he just doesn't care. He's reached so many milestones that Arthur misses not because he wants them, but out of pure luck, and I'm sure Arthur feels bitter about it.

It's just sad, man.

[mediocrecowboyhat]

Set in sand - Chapter 8

We mark the year 1934 and a peculiar journal falls into your hands. It's telling the tale of an outlaw and the downfall of a gang. Some pages are torn and others are downright unreadable, but nevertheless, you are still able to make out some parts of the tragic story.

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to safe the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

Previous chapter

Next chapter

Word count: 3316

TW: end-game spoilers will be mentioned very early on in the story, 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, violence, gore, death, misogynistic themes (anything that happens in the game as well)

Everyone in camp is on high alert and doing their best to pack up everything as fast as possible. No matter how much you keep yourself busy by putting as much on your plate as you can, you're still unable to shake off the concern you feel for Arthur.

It's nibbling at you, feeding on your anxiety and you catch yourself listening for the familiar sound of hooves approach or looking out for a flash of black from his hat between the trees. Something dawns on you then.

I could leave during this commotion.

Not a single person would notice and you'd even bet money on that. A strange mix of guilt and betrayal spreads in your chest for just considering that option though and you shake your head. This is bad. Really bad.

-

"I'm just worried that it might get to you.", Francis comments and you wave it off.

"What? Are you worried that I might find out how amazing of an outlaw I am?", you tease with your lips curled up into a smirk.

The red head shakes his head in both amused disbelief and frustration. "No, but think about it. You will live with these people, possibly even befriend them. Leaving them behind could proof to be difficult."

His words make sense, but you're not too concerned about it. Arthur Morgan is the only person you have to build up an at least decent relationship with and besides, you highly doubt that you'll manage to properly befriend anyone there.

They're all criminals and you're not. These are two different worlds.

-

I'm a criminal like them now.

It doesn't happen everytime, but every now and then when you close your eyes you see the faces of the two men you killed. One a contorted mask in terror and shock from above and the other a cruel, bloody pool from below.

It's haunting to say the least.

"Arthur! Have you been followed?", you hear Dutch call out and you quickly turn on your heels to get a better look at the man who you've been so worried about this entire time.

His clothes are dirty and he's panting heavily, but you can't see any injuries on him. Not even a speck of blood on his shirt or pants. That's a good sign.

Unfortunately he's not staying for long, because Dutch almost immediately sends him away with Charles to check out a potential spot to set up a new camp. Someone pushes you harshly from behind and you let out a startled yelp.

"Move it! We ain't got time!" Miss Grimshaw's scolding puts you right back to work and you completely forget about the fact that your departure is long overdue.

---

The spot Arthur and Charles have found for the gang is directly by a river and close to a town called Rhodes. You remember reading the name in the journal and recall two families living nearby.

If your memory can be trusted then they're supposed to have some serious feud or so. It would be smart not to get too involved, but you never know with Dutch.

Together with Sean, Karen and Lenny you sit at a table and listen to the Irishman boast about that one trainjob back in New Hanover, the one where you helped steal the oil wagon. How many times has he talked about that now?

"And then that gobshite hit me on the head, but that didn't faze me at all!", he proudly exclaims while puffing out his chest a bit and you fight back an eye roll.

Even Karen who is usually glued to his lips seems a bit indifferent towards the tale. Lenny on the other hand looks quite troubled as if something is weighing heavily on his mind.

"Sean! How about you stop fucking around and instead lend me a hand!", Bill yells over the entire camp and earns himself an annoyed grunt from the red head.

"If you'll excuse me. I have important business to attend to." With these words Sean leaves the table and you shake your head once he turns away.

"I wonder how often he will talk about that.", you comment and get a rather hasty nod from Karen.

Shortly after she gets up from her seat as well. It's her turn to stand guard at the edge of camp. So now it's just you and Lenny and you decide to investigate what's been bothering him so much.

"You okay?", you ask and furrow your eyebrows in concern. The young man let's out an aggravated sigh and scratches the back of his neck.

"I don't know. Sean keeps bragging about all the money he brings in and I guess I feel like I'm not contributing enough.", he hesitantly admits and you place your hand on his shoulder.

As you two lock eyes, you give him a soft squeeze. "Don't take everything he says so seriously. You've heard what Arthur said about the train job."

The outlaw wouldn't shut up about how much Sean was overwhelmed with the task of checking the baggage wagon. He still mentions it regularly, because it gets such a rise out of the Irishman.

"You're right, but I still feel so...I don't know."

You pull your hand away and give him a reassuring smile. "Don't see this as a competition. Everyone knows how much you're doing for the gang."

"Maybe, but it would still be nice to have something to show to the others, you know?", he says and you nod.

Of course you know. That's the whole reason why you decided to learn how to steal from people. Now that you think of it you should maybe also focus on bringing some money in again.

The few dollar bills from that one guy from Valentine definitely aren't enough. Sure, you helped with the oil wagon, but got yourself kidnapped right afterwards and you feel like that overshadowed your accomplishment with how much effort they had to put into your rescue.

"How about we head into Rhodes and talk to the people? To look for a lead, I mean.", you suggest and Lenny's lips curl up into a wide grin.

"Sounds good!"

Together you ride on his horse towards the nearby town and he hitches it outside the post office. There you split up and he heads deeper into Rhodes while you decide to pay the saloon a visit.

With your newly acquired experience in scamming people, you slip into your charm and head straight to the bar to order a drink. As you still try to decide which role to play as and the bartender pours you a whisky, you overhear a conversation at the table next to you.

"They're gonna send me out to Saint Denis to drive this bank coach.", a man says in an almost hushed voice and you throw a quick look in his direction. Two men are sitting across from each other and slightly bend over the table.

How very secretive.

Casually you sip at your drink and pretend to admire the many different bottles behind the bar counter while you focus all your attention to the conversation. If there's anything you've learned so far then it's that bank coaches are a promising steal.

"But you won't drive alone right?", the other man asks.

"Of course not, you moron. Yes, this shithole is a backwater place, but that thing will be loaded with money. Only a fool would make this a one-man job."

You linger a bit longer at the bar with the hope of finding out the exact number of guards that will be assigned to this coach. They might even spill when and where the coach will pass.

Perhaps you should stroll over and make yourself acquainted with them? There is a chance that the guy will even tell you all that himself if you get him drunk enough.

In one go, you finish the glass infront of you and brush your fingers over the right pocket of your coat. The light bulge of the Schofield inside gives you a sense of comfort, especially now that you've gotten so much better at shooting.

And especially now that you're a bit less scared of using it against a person as well. Quickly you fix up your appearance a little and confidently saunter over to the table.

"Hey, boys.", you say in a sultry voice and curl up your lips into the sweetest smile you can muster up.

Both of them give you their attention pretty much immediately and you tilt your head in innocent curiosity. "Do you mind if I join you for a drink or two?"

"No, ma'am! N-not at all!", the coach driver says and hastily pulls out a chair for you.

Now let's get to work.

---

By the time you're done faking your interested, getting both men absolutely hammered and squeezing them of every last drop of information, the sun is beginning to set. These guys would probably sell out their own mother over a few drinks and attention from a pretty lady.

The sunlight from outside is drowning the interior of the saloon in a warm, orange hue and you feel your eyelids growing heavy from both providing entertainment and drinking.

Much to your relief you see, in the corner of your eye, Lenny push open the front door and you wave at him. His face lights up the moment his eyes fall on you which is a vast contrast to the two men you're still sitting with.

As they notice you lock eyes with the young man, their features darken as if they've just received bad news.

"Who is this boy?", one of them mumbles irritated and you stand up from your chair.

Even though you have made sure not to drink too much to keep a clear mind, the alcohol still gets to you. You should have definitely eaten something before heading into town, but alas.

"He is my ride home. Now, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me."

Just as you're about to walk away, one of the men grabs you by the wrist and gives you a sickening grin, one you've seen before not too long ago. Mental images of the O'Driscoll boys who have abducted you flash before your inner eye and you feel something strange boil up inside your chest.

"Aw you can't just leave like that, miss.", he says in a feigned nice tone and his eyes roam over your figure.

The wide grin on his face reveals a set of yellow, crooked teeth and the stench of alcohol hits you in the face like a freight train. You give your hand a light tug, but his grip on you is tight. He isn't intending to let you go so easily.

He says something else, but you're unable to hear what it is. The blood rushing through your ears drowns it out completely and it's as if someone has put a veil over your head.

Your body is on autopilot and with your free hand you fish out the Schofield from your pocket and point the other end of the barrel right at his forehead. His eyes go wide in shock and he quickly lifts his hands up, letting you go in the process.

"I was just jokin', miss.", you hear him say, but it sounds like he's talking to you from another room. His voice is so far away.

That's also when you feel Lenny's hand gently tugging at your arm and you blink a couple times after you snap out of the weird trance. Everyone in the saloon has their head turned in your direction and they're all staring you down.

Some of the faces reveal fear and others carry an unspoken warning with them. Without saying another word you lower the revolver and let Lenny drag you out of the building in the direction of his horse.

"It's a bit early to make enemies, wouldn't you agree?", he says and you brush your hair out of your face.

"I'm sorry.", you mumble and he give you a quick look which you can't quite decipher.

"What was that just now?", he asks and you shake your head.

Indeed, what was that? You're not sure if you can quite explain it yourself. "No idea."

Thankfully he doesn't question you any further and you ride back to camp in awkward silence. After a while you clear your throat.

"So got any interesting leads?" Your attempt to lighten up the mood is pathetic, but he doesn't comment on it.

"Some feller told me about this place, Shady Belle. Apparently there are some good weapons and money."

You nod. "Worth stealing."

"My thoughts exactly.", he answers as you two reach the camp. "I just need to figure out who I could bring with me. I was thinkin' about Arthur maybe."

That's a good choice and the two of them get along so well with each other. When you found out about the bank coach you were also playing with the thought of bringing Arthur on board as well, but you're not sure if he'd want you there.

It still seems like he doesn't quite trust you with big jobs just yet. Especially not after the whole ordeal with the O'Driscolls. While Lenny hitches the horse you tell him about your own findings and he gives you an impressed look.

"That's a good lead, actually.", he admits and you throw your hands in the air.

"Thank you! I just have to figure out what to do next." It's no secret and no surprise to anyone that you lack the knowledge or experience regarding robberies like this.

Or well, robberies in general and you desperately want to change that.

Why? I will be leaving soon anyways. I should have left already.

But it doesn't hurt to extend the stay a bit. Right?

I might have saved Arthur from tuberculosis, but that could have changed the timeline and now something else could kill him.

Exactly. You're only staying here for now to make sure that nothing else happens to him. That's a good reason and you're doing a good thing.

Lenny rips you out of your inner monolog. "If you need help you can always come to me. I might not have been long in this business, but I know a thing or two."

His joke earns him a laugh from you and you give his shoulder a friendly pat. "Thank you. I'll remember that."

With that you part your ways and you make your way closer to the river. There's a log you can sit down on and you sweep the sand off it before you take the seat. You replay the events from the saloon in your mind as you stare out towards the almost still water.

You still can't explained what might have happened there. Perhaps it was your survival instinct that kicked in? Possibly.

A sigh escapes your throat and you feel someone rest down right next to you. Arthur holds out a cup of coffee and you murmur a quick 'thank you' before taking it.

Not everyone in 1899 seems to know of hygiene and you obviously didn't expect for people to smell like roses when you traveled back here, but there's something about Arthur's scent that you really like.

It's not like he takes a bath everyday, but he doesn't smell bad at all. Whenever he's near you, an aroma that reminds you of the forest after heavy rain fills your nose with an undertone of cigarette smoke.

Is it weird that you know exactly how to describe his scent like that? No, you're just a very perceptive person. That's all.

"I like this place. If I ever decide to look for land to own myself I should send you and Charles to search for it. The sight of you two could even give me a nice discount.", you break the silence and he let's out a cackle.

"Will we get compensation for our hard work?", he asks with an eyebrow raised in amusement and you pretend to think.

You tap your finger against your chin in a thoughtful manner. "I'll let you live in the barn. If the land comes with a barn, that is."

"How mighty kind of you."

Your lips curls up into a sly smirk. "I'm nothing, but kind, Mr. Morgan."

He throws his head back and let's out a hearty laugh. "I believe that you're spending too much time with Mrs. Adler to be saying that. I fear the woman might be rubbing off on you."

The conversation goes on with him telling you about his shopping trip with Sadie and you regret not joining them. Sure, you had fun with Lenny too and you love spending time with the boy, but you would have preferred pretty much anything else over the company of the two drunken morons from the saloon.

"It sounds like you did good with defendin' yourself.", the outlaw says and you simply shrug.

"I don't know. I feel bad, considering Dutch told us not to cause any trouble here.", you answer which he waves off in a matter of fact way.

"I'd rather you go threaten folk than gettin' snatched away again. Besides, how much worse can it get than a shoppin' trip with Sadie?"

That's true. You might have held a man at gunpoint today, but Sadie was still the one who fired. The thought gives you some comfort and you nudge Arthur's shoulder playfully with yours. "Thanks. I feel much better now."

"Always a pleasure."

You sit there in silence for a while and finish the coffee. "Got any plans for tomorrow?", you ask and try to mask the anticipation in your voice.

All that is on your agenda tomorrow is doing chores around the camp and you don't particularly feel excited about it. Not after having such a fun day out in the field with Lenny.

"Dutch wants me to find out more about this Gray family so looks like I'll pay 'em a visit.", he answers and your eyes fall on the empty cup you're holding.

You swirl around the little bit of leftover coffee. "Can I come with you?"

Arthur seems to think for a moment before nodding. "Sure, why not?"

His response makes your eyes go slightly wide in surprise and he give you a puzzled look for that. "What?"

"It's uh nothing. I just didn't expect for you to say yes so easily.", you answer. It's true. Last time with the oil wagon you had to come up with a step by step plan to convince him.

"I'll just do some talkin'. Nothin' dangerous and I guess it would look a whole less suspicious if I got a lady with me."

That makes sense. The outlaw has something rather threatening about him with his broad shoulders and the constant frown that seems to be glued onto his face. A smile begins to form on your lips.

"Perfect then! Will we dress up? Pretend to be someone else? Oh, do you want me to work on background stories for us?"

The more questions leave you the less excited he looks and he raises both hands to stop you from continuing.

"None of that please. I'll come up with a plan tomorrow mornin' and you just...try to keep ya head. Don't want another woman shootin' up the place again."

Yes, that sounds good. The last thing you want to do is make him believe that he can't let you join during his jobs ever again. You want to proof that you can handle yourself just fine and then hopefully Dutch will start sending you out too.

That bank coach might just be the prime opportunity to show that. Only thing missing is a helping hand and you got just the right person in mind.

Taglist: @shackspossum

[robinbuckleysfringe]

paper rings

a joseph quinn social media au

pairings: joseph quinn x keery!reader

warnings: pronouns for reader vary between she & they, I've tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible even tho I do use female faceclaims

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | masterlist

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

*madelyncline has posted*

tagged yninstagram

liked by rudeth, hichasestokes, josephquinn, florencepugh and others

madelyncline surprised my bestie on their trip to LA. happy birthday flower 🌼

View comments

madelyncline photo creds for the 1st pic to @/rachelzegler who helped set up the best birthday surprise

> madelyncline and of course photo creds to @/rudeth for the 3rd photo of me and my bestie goofing around on set

yninstagram aww, thank you maddie 🫶🏻❤️. love you and can't wait for more onset chaos soon!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

yninstagram and thank you to rach for somehow keeping this whole thing a secret 🫶🏻❤️

> rachelzegler happy birthday babes. love you big time 😘🫶🏻

maya_hawke happy day of birth to the best on screen girlfriend ❤️❤️

> yninstagram love you maya!! 🫶🏻❤️

joekeery you're old now, happy birthday y/n

> yninstagram shut up. 26 isn't old 😤

josephquinn happy birthday y/n xx

> yninstagram thanks joe. come to LA soon so we can hang before I leave for Charleston!!! xx

hichasestokes happy birthday 🌼

> yninstagram 🫶🏻

gatenm123 happy birthday y/n. thanks for being the best on screen sister ❤️

> yninstagram aww, love you gaten. miss you already 🫶🏻❤️

florencepugh happy birthday babes!! have the best day, you deserve it!! 💕💕

> yninstagram love you flo!! 💕💕

zendaya happy birthday y/n, miss you!! x

> yninstagram thanks hun. miss you too!! xx

user omg happy birthday y/n!!!

user their friendship >>>>>>>> everything else

user does this mean we're getting OBX3 soon??!!!

> yninstagram soon!! I promise as soon as we get a date, you fans will be the first to know!!

☆☆☆

y/nupdates | Y/N spotted getting all cosy with her stranger things costar, Joseph Quinn, in LA this week

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user omg are they together??

user they're so cute together oh my gosh!!!

user omg new ship???

> user2 yes!!!! what would their ship name be tho??

user I wonder if they're dating

> user2 I wouldn't be surprised if they were tbh

> user3 thought y/n was dating Rudy Pankow, her OBX costar, no?

> user that was just a rumour I think. neither of them confirmed anything

user have you seen the way he looks at them?? someone get me a man who looks at me like joe looks at y/n 🥺🥺🥺

user they'd make such a cute couple if they're not already dating

> user2 so true!!!

user omg I hope its true that they're dating. but even if they're not and they're just friends, that's cool too. they should be allowed to be happy regardless

> user2 THIS ^^^^

☆☆☆

*yninstagram has posted*

tagged obx, madisonbaileybabe, madelyncline, hichasestokes, jonathandavissofficial, carlaciagrant & rudeth

liked by josephquinn, rachelzegler, joekeery, drewstarkey and others

yninstagram we are so back baby!!! season 3 of the beach show is officially in production!! 🏖🫶🏻❤️

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user OMG YES!!! CANT WAIT FOR THIS SEASON!!

user I've been waiting for this one!!!

millybobbybrown girl, isn't this like your 5th project in a row or something? pls take a break

> yninstagram my 3rd. but yeah, I hear you. I'm taking a long ass holiday after we wrap this season

> millybobbybrown I bet you're exhausted

> nattyiceofficial y/n, hun, please make sure you're resting xx

> yninstagram love you guys 🫶🏻🫶🏻

obx P4L!!!

> yninstagram P4L bby!!!

josephquinn good luck with your next project, you busy bee 🐝 xx

> yninstagram haha thanks joe xx

rachelzegler I love seeing you win at life but pls come back to LA, Lenny misses you 🥺🫶🏻

> yninstagram I miss you too!! come to Charleston!!! 🥺🫶🏻🫶🏻

> rachelzegler getting on a plane rn

> yninstagram bitch, you better be 🫶🏻

☆☆☆

been a few weeks since I posted part one of this little series, apologies for that. hope you enjoyed reading this chapter 🩷

[satureja13]

The Boys returned from Batuu just in time for Winterfest and started decorating right away. They'd found quite some winterfest stuff in Great A'Tuin's storage from when B.D, his kids, Lenny and Albaleyh had celebrated here. And Vlad and Kiyoshi decided to play along this year and wear some ugly sweaters too!

The others surprised Jack and Vlad with Batuu's special dishes they'd learned to cook and so they have an assortment of dishes none of them had tried before. (Did you know that every time you eat a dish you've never tried before, you're going to live 70 days longer? Such a sweet saying <3)

The Boys grabbed their plates and chatted excitedly about their adventures at Batuu. And how awsome it was B.D could return to his kids and celebrate with them (depending on how fast of a ship he found that brings him back (and where 'back' even was ö.ö)) And how weird it was that Val, Jino and their friends resembled them so much. How was it even possible that the happenings of the story 'Escape from Batuu' hadn't happened aeons ago but apparently only a few months/years? Had only the last part about Val and Jino's long life and their urns turning into meteorites been made up then? But the meteorites had to be Val and Jino's remnants, right? Did they fall into a timeslip when they followed the meteorites' route backwards to Batuu? What this the reason the meteorites had left Great A'Tuin when they changed the route to reach the outpost to repair the ship? Ouf, that's a lot to digest and to ponder about and they decided to let the future Boys deal with that ^^'

Time to consume and digest their Winterfest Meal instead!

And then the Winterfest Miracle happened! They all stayed sit and ate! At the table, all at the same time! None of them picked their plate and ran somewhere else! That has never happened in all those years, oh my!

Until: Saiwa: "Dammit Vlad!"

Vlad: "What?" (Their faces! hahaha)

But - and that was the second miracle, they still stayed sit! And only got up when they stared to clean up. Wow. Usually, when Sai or Vlad hiss, the others stop whatever they do and their position and complain.

After dinner, they moved the table aside and some sofas around the fireplace. Sai and Jeb started kissing right away and Kiyoshi needed his mate close too.

And Ji Ho was disappointed Vlad didn't make a move on him! Tch.

The Little Ones were already sleeping but Skully was still awake and thought it's the perfect moment to play 'Last Christmas' once again:

'A crowded room, friends with tired eyes I'm hiding from you and your soul of ice My God, I thought you were someone to rely on Me? I guess I was a shoulder to cry on A face-on lover with a fire in his heart A man undercover, but you tore me apart Ooh-ooh Now I've found a real love, you'll never fool me again Last Christmas, I gave you my heart But the very next day, you gave it away (You gave it away) This year, to save me from tears I'll give it to someone special (Special) Last Christmas, I gave you my heart But the very next day, you gave it away (You gave me away) This year, to save me from tears I'll give it to someone special (Special)'

Outtakes

When I logged in and we started decorating, Lenny came running down the stairs and clawed on Vlad! They did this autonomously 💞

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: starts ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-29

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Maisel character of choice discovering an old love letter

Noah Maisel sighs heavily. He's been doing that a lot lately.

2015 has been a tough year. He was denied funding on a study he's been trying to get off the ground. His girlfriend of a year called it quits on New Years Day (nine months ago. He's mostly over it), and the icing on the shit cake, the coupe de gras. The worst of the worst.

Pop-Pop passed away.

And Noah supposes that makes sense. Lenny Bruce was an old man. He had certainly lived quite a few different lives in the last ninety years, but it seems oddly unfair; oddly short for someone so excited about life.

Last week, Noah had received a text message from his grandfather that simply said "fuckin' cronuts are great. Go get one! It'll change your life!"

"Pop-Pop, after all the crap you've been through, how are you not more jaded?" he asked once a few years ago.

His grandfather had chuckled and nudged Noah's foot with his own. "You take the good with the bad, kid. Yeah, I did that one time, and the addiction problems are a pain the ass. But there are flowers that bloom, and chicken salad sandwiches, and orgasms."

"Agh. Gagh."

"What?"

Noah laughs quietly to himself and then sighs again. Offering to help his father and aunts go through his grandfather's belongings. Softa isn't up for it yet, and...well. Who could blame her?

He sorts through a stack of papers and letters, one falling to the floor. He bends down to pick it back up, and glances at the front of the envelope.

To: Upper West Side

Noah frowns and sits with it for a moment. He probably shouldn't read it. It's meant for Softa, and he should walk it up the stairs to hand it over.

But he's really fucking curious, and what if it's sad, or upsetting? He doesn't want to just hand over a mysterious letter to his grandmother only for her to read it and feel more heartbroken.

He sits down at the desk and opens the envelope (not sealed shut, thankfully), and pulls the letter out, taking a look.

Midge -

You won an Emmy yesterday, and I thought I'd drop you a note letting you know how proud of you I am.

Not that you need me to be proud. It's just the reality of the situation. I am so proud of you, I could keel over.

From the second I saw you on stage at the Vanguard that one night, I knew you would surpass us all. There is more talent in your pinky finger than most comics have in their entire body. You've astounded me from the beginning, truly.

So yes. Again. Very proud.

I know we haven't seen each other in a little while; California and New York being so far apart. But I wanted to let you know. I saw you accept that Emmy, and I cheered. I woke my mother, I cheered so loud.

In any case, I hope you're celebrating. I should be in New York again soon, so I hope to run into you while I'm bumming around.

Congratulations, Upper West Side

Love, Lenny

Noah smiles sadly and blows out a breath, tilting his head up to do some math. Softa won her first Emmy in '64, and she and Pop-Pop married in '65. He wonders if they ran into each other before Pop-Pop could send that letter. It's a really nice though.

Carefully, he slips the letter back into its envelope and gets up to deliver it to his grandmother.

[cowboydisaster]

Closer

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k

summary: You reveal a secret about your sexual preferences to Arthur when liquor has loosened your lips. Later and sober, he brings it up again, and you find yourself in ecstasy with the idea of being edged.

a/n: I wrote this in one day. idk where it came from, sorry not sorry. High honor Arthur loves consent and so do i, here we go!

warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, minors dni (edging, receiving oral, vaginal sex, you get the idea)

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

Arthur has opted not to drink tonight. Just a week ago he had taken Lenny to the saloon for a quiet night out, and woken up a day later in jail. He doesn't feel like drinking for a long while. You on the other hand, have had your fill and then some. Sean had been safely returned home earlier in the day, and Hosea had come back with a wagon full of liquor to celebrate. At this point, Arthur has lost count of the number of times you and John have passed the whiskey crate around the fire. Arthur chuckles as you sing along to Javier's song, glancing at him every once in a while. You've been staring at Arthur in between the lyrics, and there's a blaze in your eyes, a heat in your gaze that tells him exactly what you're thinking about. 

Javier's song crescendos to an end, and everyone laughs, hooping and hollering, except for you. You instead are staring at Arthur, biting your lip lightly before leaning down to the whiskey crate, pulling a bottle from it and holding it in your hands as if it's.. something else. You're driving him mad, especially as you squeeze your thighs together, unbuttoning the first few buttons of your shirt, just to get rid of the heat, of course. 

Arthur tries to keep his eyes off you, because your relationship is pretty new and you've only slept together a handful of times. Though they ended up on his list of best nights, he feels it would be a disservice to eye you like this, especially with your drunken state. 

He can't help it though, and some sweat runs down his temple as he rearranges himself to lessen the strain of his cock pressing up against his jeans. Your cleavage is kept hidden from him by your shirt, but the open buttons reveal the beginning of the swell of your breasts, and he wants nothing more than to kiss the sweet flesh there. 

The times you've laid with him you were a bit shy, nervously covering certain areas of your body with your hands. Usually he has to reassure you, coax you from your shell a bit to remove you from your self consciousness. That feeling is gone now. The alcohol has made you brave, bold as you trail your fingers from your knee to your thigh. It's just subtle enough to drive him mad, but anyone else who didn't know your intentions would think nothing of it. Arthur squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, thinking of anything to get his erection to go down. He opens his eyes when he feels your hand on his, and you start pulling him away from the fire. 

"Come on, cowboy." You tease, pulling him towards his covered wagon. Your voice is slurred with drunkenness, and your steps are stumbling. It's then that Arthur realizes just how drunk you are. 

"You tired?" Arthur asks as you pull him into his tent. He's hoping you'll say yes, because he can't give you this tonight, not until you're sober. It would be a disservice to you, not to mention that he's sober, and it would feel wrong. 

"Nope." You whisper, turning towards him with sparkling, half-lidded eyes. Then you lean up and intertwine your fingers into his hair, kissing him. It's drunk and sloppy, but Arthur isn't complaining. Your lips taste like whiskey as you devour him, saving no room for delicacy or the coy demeanor you usually have. Your lips slot against his breathily and with hunger as you press yourself up against him. You can feel his hardness pressing into your hip, twitching as you release his hair with one hand to undo the buttons of your blouse. 

You shove him back lightly, and he lies down on the bed, looking up to you. He concludes that something has taken over you, it must have with the way your actions have flipped from coy to bold. He loves you so much, he wants you, but he can't do this, not while you're drunk. Then you're sitting on top of him. Your blouse is gone, and your jeans have been unzipped the whole way down, leaving nothing to desire because you haven't worn any underclothes. This in itself causes Arthur to curse, and his skin blazes with a burn that only you can create and quell. You're looking down to him, panting. Your pupils are blown, and messy waves fall around your face. You look like some goddess, something divine that he doesn't deserve, surely. His cock aches in his jeans and if something doesn't happen soon, he's going to embarrass himself greatly. 

"Sweetheart-" Arthur is cut off by his own groan as you smile, grinding yourself against his hips. His head tosses back as he thrusts his hips up against you, and you've never been more proud than now, watching him under you. You lean down to kiss his lips again, but you stop, just inches away from his face. He hesitates, breathing hotly as you stare at his lips, then up to his eyes.

"T-take me, Arthur." You whisper, kissing his lips while intertwining your tongues before pulling away again. A clarity pokes through the fog of alcohol as you look into his eyes again. 

"I want you to draw it out. I want you all night, over and over, and over again." You whimper, leaning down to kiss his neck. Arthur can't tell if he's ascended to the heavens or if this is real. He's not sure where his sweet, shy girl has gone, or how she's been replaced by this wanton dominatrix, but he isn't complaining. You kiss up to his earlobe, grinding yourself against him again, moaning in his ear at the slight friction. Then, lips pressed against his ear, you whisper. 

"You know that moment? That moment when you're so close that even the smallest touch will send you over the edge?" 

Arthur nods lightly, losing his composure while his hands grip your hips tightly. 

"That's the best part." 

Arthur's eyes slip closed and he groans. You're so foul-mouthed while drunk, and it's delirious, something he never knew could be so damn attractive. 

"Take me there. Take me there, Arthur and torture me." You beg, just a breath in his ear. 

"Christ alive, sweetheart." Arthur groans, never having seen you so… unhinged. Drunkenness has loosened your lips, and your limbs, and it's then that he remembers his promise to himself. 

You're drunk, and he's not. Having you like this right now would be taking advantage of you. He wants to give you everything you could ever ask for and then some, but only when you're sober. His length throbs against his jeans, and as much as he wants to have you right now, he can't. He could never forgive himself if you woke up upset with him. With a sigh, and a bittersweet smile, Arthur looks up to your lust driven eyes. 

"I can't." Arthur states apologetically, peeling your warm, beautiful body from his. You pull back from him with a shocked expression, and your eyebrows string together forming a tight little crease that he wishes to wipe away from your worried face. His features soften sadly at your expression, and his thumb rubs against your cheek.

"What?" You ask, confused, and a little embarrassed. You hadn't expected him to reject you. Although you'd never ask him to partake if he doesn't want to, you're still a little hurt that he's pushing you away. Suddenly some of the anxiety seeps through into your drunken state, and you wonder if it's your body, or your alcohol ridden lips that have caused him to push you away. You blush, embarrassed, but Arthur only takes your hand in his own, encasing it.

"I'm sorry darlin, I can't. You can't hardly stand up right now, let alone make decisions like this one. N' we're still new to this. I don't want you wakin' up tomorrow, sober, and regrettin this." He whispers, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. Despite all that he's just said, your foggy brain fixates on three little insignificant words. 

"Y-you dont… You don't want me?" You sigh, hurt and tired and seeing double. Arthur can only chuckle on account of how wrong you are. But whatever altered state of mind you're in that could convince you that he somehow doesn't want you is exactly why he can't go through with this. 

"Oh I want you, alright. But you ain't in the state of mind to be acceptin' that invitation right now." Arthur explains, and you feel a weight slip off your shoulders. 

"Oh." You nod, disappointed, and aching for his touch. But nonetheless, you trust his judgment, even if you don't understand it right now. Sighing, you lay down flat on him, chest to chest. He wraps his arms around you, pressing kisses up to your forehead. It's then that you realize how tired you are, and the way the room seems to spin a little. A question raises itself in your lips, and you prop your chin on his chest to look down at him. 

"But you do want me right?" You ask, just checking. You're not exactly sure what you've just talked about, or what happened. And you're already falling asleep as Arthur answers.

"Yes, darlin." Arthur chuckles, sliding you off of him so that he can lay with you properly. You fall in line with him, back pressed against his chest as he spoons you. 

"Hey, Arthur?" You mumble, eyes closed as you breathe slower and slower, relaxing into his arms. 

"Sweetheart, go to sleep."  Arthur mumbles, one arm snaking around your waist whilst the other lies under your head. 

"Okay but just one thing." You implore, turning around in his arms so that you can nuzzle into his toasty warm chest. Arthur huffs, amused, and so in love that it aches in his bones.

"Go on." 

"Can we try again?" You ask, pressing a chaste kiss to his neck. 

"Yes, we can try again if you want, but first you gotta go to sleep." Arthur chuckles, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You're satisfied enough with that, and you nuzzle into him again with a drunken smile on your lips. 

— — — — 

Two nights later, your hangover is gone. You'd spent the previous day aching, throwing up and sleeping for the most part. Arthur had stayed with you all day, taking care of you. You were grateful, but a little frustrated that he wouldn't let you do anything. Tonight is better, and you lie in bed, unable to sleep. Arthur has been snoring behind you for some time now, but you can't stop thinking about the party. Mostly because you don't remember it. You'd woken up in Arthur's bed, shirtless with your pants completely unzipped, hungover. But you have no recollection, besides what Arthur told you. He had assured you that nothing happened, not that you would have minded. You're just wondering if you made a fool out of yourself, or embarrassed yourself in some way. You sigh, sitting up in bed.

 You can't help but look down at Arthur and his unworried, sleeping expression. With a warm, loving smile, you lean down and press a little kiss to his cheek. Arthur startles, eyes blinking open quickly as he looks up at you. He's shocked for a moment, then worried as he quickly leans up on his elbows.

"Darlin? What's wrong? Why're you up?" He asks, sitting up fully. You feel awful, never meaning to have woken him up. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." You mumble as he pulls you towards his chest, enveloping you into his arms. 

"S'okay, what's goin' on?" 

Arthur's arms are so warm, so big, you could be swallowed up by them entirely and remain content. 

"I just can't believe how much I drank the other night." You sigh, shaking your head in horror. Arthur nods, chuckling lightly as you pull away from him. He takes both of your hands in his own and holds them in his lap. 

"Yeah me neither." Arthur swallows thickly, looking up to you with a question. "You uh- you remember anything you said to me that night?" Arthur asks, and your skin goes pale. 

"No. Oh no, what did I say?" You ask, afraid you'd hurt his feelings or said something you shouldn't have. You wince, dipping your head as you await his response. Arthur pulls your chin up with his finger, coaxing you to meet his eyes as you shiver. 

"Practically jumped me, darlin. Put on quite a show, then you asked me to 'take you, all night long' and the kicker, you asked me to edge you. In fact, you said it was the best part. Asked me to 'take you there n' torture you', if I remember correctly." Arthur says nonchalantly, and you recoil. You're horrified by what you've said, and though it's all true, you can't believe you spoke it so plainly, so early into your relationship. 

"Oh, that's embarrassing, Arthur I'm so sorry." You wince, head falling into your hands. 

Instead of judging you, or mocking you, Arthur lightly pulls you towards him. His lips find the crook of your neck, and he starts kissing there, slow and patient and hot. Your breathing quickens, and you crane your neck to give him better access. Your heart races, you still can't believe he's here, he's yours. He lightly pulls some of your skin between his teeth, and it hurts in the best way as you yelp.  He runs his tongue over the spot to soothe it.

Then, one of his hands snakes up your shirt, and he teases your breasts as you moan. His lips move right against your ear as he whispers. 

"Is it..? The best part?" Arthur asks right against your ear. You blush, not wanting to respond from the embarrassment. He pulls away, cocking his head at your silence.

"Darlin, don't get shy on me now." Arthur chuckles, watching with an intensity as you bite your lip, smirking at him. 

"Yes, it’s the best part. For me anyway, I know it's different for everyone.” You whisper, and then squeak as Arthur quickly pushes you down against the bed, towering over you. Arthurs fingers trail up your hips, you're not wearing anything under your chemise and he growls. He pulls the chemise over your arms and tosses it down on the floor, smirking at the little gasps that leave you. Towering above you, Arthur takes a moment to drink you in. He’s seen you like this before, but only on a few occasions.

“Y’know,” Arthur says, stopping to press a kiss to your breast, “I did make you a promise.” Arthur whispers on your skin. Your hands tangle into his hair as you arch your back, searching for more of his lips against you. 

“And what’s that promise?” You exhale, wrapping your legs around him. Arthur moves downwards, and your breath hitches in your throat.  

“Promised you we’d try it.” He says, and your pupils dilate. Your legs loosen some, faltering around him as you sit up on your elbows. Arthur stands up from the bed, smirking down at you while pulling his clothes off quickly. 

“Ain’t gonna be too comfortable with these on.” He explains gruffly, before crawling back on the bed and leaning over you. A piece of his hair falls down, dangling over your face that you brush behind his ear to better see him. 

“Just remember, you asked for this. Beg all you want darlin, I’m takin’ my time.” He growls, and you shudder underneath him. He rests between your knees, spreading them while latching on to your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

Arthur wasn’t exaggerating. He starts painfully slow, kissing your hip and thumbing your thigh. He presses love bites on the inside of your thighs, and you whimper, bucking your hips upwards to try and get him where you need him. 

“Patience.” Arthur growls, the soft flesh of your thigh in between his lips. After a few moments more, you’re squirming, sweating and whining for his touch between your legs. One of his hands reaches up to flick at your nipple slowly, and your back arches. 

“Arthur, please, please touch me already.” You whine, hips fidgeting as he runs his finger featherlight over your lower lips. He has to stop and gather his control from the way you whine his name, fidgeting and arching underneath him. But after a deep breath he gives you what you want.

Arthur leans in to you, and you feel his nose brush against your heat as he just lightly brushes his tongue over your already sensitive clit. You gasp, clenching your muscles as he releases. 

“Oh, Arthur come on, please.” You whimper, and he smirks with satisfaction. His fingers run down your opening, and he stops, groaning when he feels how wet you are. His cock is pressing hard into his mattress, but he ignores it, focusing on you. A finger teases your entrance, and then ever so slowly sinks in to you. He doesn’t move it, watching as you buck your hips to get something. 

“Like I said, you asked for this.” Arthur says, curling his finger just a tiny bit before slipping it out. 

“Fu- I know!” You sort of yell, pulling an amused chuckle out of Arthur. You’re somewhere in between mad and pleased with yourself for suggesting this, but Arthur has no plans on rushing that decision. 

“Yeah, you like this. Don't Cha' sweetheart?” Arthur observes, watching as your hands grip at the sheets when he slips two fingers back in, curling them slowly. 

“God- please go faster Arthur.” 

“Nuh uh, not gonna happen, darlin.” Arthur states before lightly flicking your clit with his tongue, stopping as soon as you start to moan. You cry out, frustrated, gripping his hair, and the sheets and anything as your abdomen clenches and you try to find friction against something. And then in a heartbeat, his lips are on your clit, suctioning and flicking and it’s heavenly. Your back lifts from the mattress as you moan, covering your mouth to keep the Van der Linde’s from hearing you. 

“Oh, like that, Oh my god Arthur-” You moan, bucking your hips against his face as he curls his fingers in you, hitting all of your sweet spots at the same time. No ones ever touched you like this, and he’s turned you into a whimpering, moaning mess. This is just as addicting for him as it is for you, and when he feels your hips start to buck and the clenching of your walls around his fingers, he knows you’re close. It's risky to keep pushing you, but he goes just a few seconds longer, drawing out your ecstasy. You’re stepping over the edge of a cliff, just ready to fall, and then Arthur pulls you back, slipping his fingers out of you and releasing your clit.

“No no no no no, Arthur, no please.” You whimper and cry, feeling so empty from the lack of him. 

“Darlin, I’m sorry. You asked for this.” Arthur mumbles, feeling bad for torturing you like this, but he knows the release will be worth it. He doesn't leave you feeling empty for long, and soon his thumb is rubbing tight, slow circles over your clit. With his mouth unoccupied, he keeps his thumb on your clit, leaning over you. 

“That feel good, darlin?” Arthur asks, watching the way your face slips into pure ecstasy when his fingers stop and continue to touch you. He chuckles lightly, deep in his chest, “Yeah it does, look atcha.” 

Your nails dig into his forearm, feeling the flexing of his muscles as he works at your clit, touching you just right. He leans down to your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and nipping it, flicking his tongue over the hard peak. You gasp, breaths loud and quick as you feel yourself closing in on an orgasm. You’re in that spot, when it's just about to hit and the heavenly way your body shudders and moans signals so to Arthur. 

“Right here, this what you like darlin? Feelin’ like this?” Arthur asks, watching as you nod, face drawn up as you gasp. Arthur presses a chaste kiss to your chest, stilling the rhythm of his fingers. You cry out in frustration. You were so close, and in the absence of his fingers a few tears drip down your face as you cry out.

“I can’t- I can’t take much more Arthur, please, please!” You whimper, shuddering underneath him, so fragile that a simple brush of skin could push you over the edge that he just will not grant you. Your core aches for release, your mind clouded with the fog of so much pressure that it blurs your vision. He’s going to make you pass out.

He parts your legs again, but this time settles his hips between them. Gasping and panting, you dig your heels into him, needing him in you so desperately that you can scream. Slowly, he pushes himself in just past the tip, groaning at how drenched you are. He’s had plenty of time to wind you up, and a mess of slick is on your thighs, him and the bed, it's a mess.

“Shit sweetheart.” Arthur huffs, leaning down on his elbows to kiss your forehead. Your arms wrap around to his back, and you pull him down to you, leaving red marks on his shoulders. 

“Move, Arthur, I need you to move.” 

And oh, he does. 

Arthur groans, sliding in fully. He takes a breath before slowly pulling the rest of the way out. He sets a steady pace, rolling his hips into you so slow and hard that every thrust hits your cervix and you gasp from the pleasure of it all. You grip onto him, digging your nails into his back as you lift your hips to meet his. You’re so close, teetering, but you try to keep your reactions muted so he doesn’t stop. Arthur’s eyes are on you, watching as your breasts bounce with every thrust, and the way your face is drawn up as you bite your lip so hard it starts to bleed. He smirks, knowing exactly what you’re keeping from him. 

“That’s my good girl, takin’ me so good. So beautiful.” Arthur murmur, hands planted on either side of your head. He picks up his pace, just a bit, thrusting into you fast enough that you barely have enough time to recover from him hitting your sweet spot before he's coming back into you again. 

“Oh, Arthur!” You moan, unable to hold it back anymore. 

“That's it sweetheart, let it go, you can have it.” Arthur growls, feeling a tightening in his abdomen.

“Oh, Fuck, Arthur, Oh please don’t stop-” You pant, and Arthur smiles at your foul mouth, something only liquor can pull out of you, and his touch apparently.

His hand reaches down in between your bodies, raking over your clit just enough for it to send you over the edge finally. A strew of gasps, moans and curses fall from your swollen lips as your abdomen clenches, your walls constricting around Arthur with every thrust of his. It's unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and you actually scream. Your usual waves of pleasure have been replaced by a tsunami, and all you can do is gasp and pull Arthur closer to you. Arthur is barely hanging on at this point, fighting with everything he has to let you finish before he does. But you look so damn beautiful, grabbing him everywhere and yelling his name out in between strangled moans. Your toes curl, and your thighs clench around his waist so tightly that he struggles to keep pace. 

“Easy, that's my girl, you’re alright.” Arthur coos, still pounding into you as you start to come down. You can already feel the ache in your hips as they slow from bucking against Arthur hastily. You whimper, returning from your heightened state just as Arthur groans deeply a few times. His hands clench tightly around the pillows by your head as he slips out of you just in time. Panting for the breath that you’ve been holding, you reach up to run your fingers through his stubble, watching the way his face draws up and he gasps and groans, spilling his seed over your stomach. Exhausted, he rests his forehead against your own. 

“Holy shit, Arthur.” You breathe out, chuckling lightly at how quickly the whole situation played out. There's a residual ache in your thighs, hips and stomach, and a few bruises on your hips from Arthur’s hands. 

“You were right.” Arthur mumbles, arms shaking from holding himself up above you. He kisses your hair before he stands up, grabbing a rag from his bedside table. Slowly, he walks back to the bed, covered in a sheen of sweat. He wipes you up carefully, cleaning up his mess completely. Then he quickly changes the sheets, tossing the old ones in a pile that you’ll clean tomorrow, god forbid they go to one of the other girls. Once everything is settled, Arthur climbs into bed first, leaving room for you. With a small, tired smile, you lay your head on his chest, intertwining your legs together. 

“Reckon I should get you drunk more often if you’re gonna keep havin’ ideas like this one.” Arthur huffs, running his fingers up and down your spine. 

“It seems so.” You mumble, smiling.  Your hand runs through his chest hair, and you’re so glad to just be with him that part of you wishes you never had to sleep. But alas, your tired, sore body wins over quicker than you would have liked, and your sleepy eyes slip shut. Arthur doesn’t last much longer than you, and shortly the two of you are cuddled up together, equally parts comfortable and satisfied.

[2demondogs]

Hey! If you are still accepting requests, could you possibly do some Charles and Lenny friendship headcanons or one shot? An underrated duo

I am :D This was fun to write! A true "we are not enemies but I don't fw your vibes" to "excuse me Charles did not want pickles on his burger" arc.

Everyone does the LENNYYY joke but anytime I read his name I can only hear this one lyric I misheard as "KENNY!" from I Know You're Fucking Someone Else. (Worst discovery ever: it's "hickey.")

Their horses were friends first. Taima can chill with the best of them, and Maggie is much more reserved than her owner. They drift off now and then from the others to eat grass together. And ain't that darnedest thing? Charles thinks Taima is a decent judge of character, and that how well a man takes care of his horse says a lot about him. Otherwise, he'd probably not have entertained Lenny for very long.

It is a struggle to get to know one another. That first wall is always the toughest to tear a hole in with someone as reserved as Charles, so Lenny doesn't stop trying. He sees how the man gets along with Arthur and John, and he wants at least a hello out of him now and then, too. He also prefers to be on good terms with people, and he suspects Charles despises him for some reason he can't grasp. Unfortunately, he just kinda looks like he hates everyone. (Charles also isn't too fond of him, but that's besides the point.)

After the first genuine conversation, things get smoother. It was pure luck catching Charles on a chatty day — meaning he nodded a greeting instead of ignoring him — in which everything seemed to be going wrong within camp. Though he usually remains optimistic and lighthearted, Lenny's serious side is much more Charles' speed. They have a good talk about where things are going and where they've been, why exactly Miss Grimshaw is like that, why Swanson is like that, and where all the money in the world seems to go.

They're more like brothers than friends, and Lenny's age shows often, if you ask Charles. Every time they speak, he's shooting down some big idea or fighting for his life to understand a joke. It's tiring, but, well... it's Lenny. He isn't sure how or when he got to the point of dismissing things as that's just Lenny, but he's starting to feel a little protective of him. Worse, sometimes he feels proud to see him pulling off the stunts he does for the gang.

Lenny's youth does show, truthfully. Fresh off his teenage years, he's done believing that he has his head sorted out. Usually, he ends up talking to Hosea about worries like his future. Charles' general, on-the-surface apathy (read: fear) towards that big question is put in jeopardy any time the subject comes up, whether it's because something's happened or just an occasional nineteen-year-old crisis. After a few awkward trail offs, he finally admits he doesn't know what the Hell he's doing either, and Lenny feels infinitely better that he's not the only one. Without realizing it, he'd started looking up to Charles. Which, of course, he's going to balance out by poking him with a proverbial stick later. Or maybe a real one.

The first time Lenny goes hunting with Charles, the rest of their respect for one another falls into place. He pays attention and does it well, which shocks Charles a little despite his increasingly positive opinions of him. He's a fast learner, and he actually gives a damn about listening to him despite all the teasing he does day-to-day. Lenny finds himself enjoying getting more than a few sentences out of Charles, especially over a skill he takes pride in.

[marauders-bs]

i swear this one was originally a microfic and then it wasn't. putting a cut because it's long af

@myvaginacalledmehomo-blog this is... similar? the thing you commented under was a fic but i figured i'd tag you anyways since this one is longer

@aletharaej THANK YOU FOR BETAING THIS YOURE MY FAVORITE

i would tag my lovely partner for getting me through this by bringing me cheese but. oh well sorry lei

Luna twisted a ring on her finger. "You're sure this will work, are you?"

"It worked for me and Ron, so, yeah, I think so," Harry said, pulling out the Stone. It had shown him his mother and father and Sirius and Remus, and Harry was curious who it would show Luna.

As she turned it over in her fingers, figures began to pop up. First, a boy and a girl who looked similar to Luna, one with blonde braids and the other with cornrows. Next was a smirking dyed blonde with eyeliner. Close behind her was a tall woman Harry recognized from the papers as Dorcas Meadowes. Soon after appeared a taller boy not much older than Luna or Harry who looked rather like Sirius, and then Remus.

"Luna," said the girl with blonde braids. She was clearly Pandora Lovegood, Luna's mom.

"Mum," Luna said, then turned her head to each spirit in turn. "Uncle Evan. Aunt Lennie, Aunt Cassie. Uncle Reg. Uncle Remus."

"You're tall now, Luna-girl," the dyed blonde Luna had addressed as Aunt Lennie said. "Last I saw you, you weren't much bigger than a bottle of soap."

"Yeah, she's got the Black eyes, too," the boy who was clearly Regulus Black said, smiling softly. "I guess I didn't live long enough to see that. We match."

Luna smiled back at him. Knowing when Regulus died, Harry knew that they wouldn't have met. Harry wondered why he had appeared. By all accounts, he shouldn't have.

"You've got the right idea, Luna," Remus said suddenly. "You might try that. We've got some lovebirds here who need to catch up."

"What, like you?" Luna's Aunt Lennie said teasingly, poking a ghostly finger into his arm.

Luna laughed softly as the spirits began to bicker good-naturedly, and she passed the Stone to Harry.

He took it, a bit confused, and his father appeared, then Lily, then Sirius.

"The fuck?" Sirius said, looking around. "Reg, what are you doing here?"

"I brought him," Luna said. "I wanted to meet him."

Harry took a look around and found the way the spirits were standing- odd. His father was standing next to Regulus. His mum was standing next to Luna's. Remus and Sirius were standing together, closer than he'd ever seen them in life.

"Haz," James said, eyebrows knitting together, "Do you not know?"

"I don't think Luna does either," Dorcas said, smirking sideways at the dyed blonde next to her.

"Stop being horny for Marlene, Cassie, you're dead," Regulus said.

"Know what?" Harry asked, trying to direct the conversation.

Sirius's only response was to hold up his left had. A sparkling ring was on it, gold amidst all of his silver. Remus held up his hand as well to show the same ring, but in silver among all his gold.

"The fuck?" James shrieked, flying to tackle the two. "You got engaged and didn't tell me?"

"Well, yeah, Prongs, it happened the night before you died," Sirius replied, voice muffled.

"Us, too," Luna's mum said quietly, holding up her and Harry's mum's joined hands.

Harry blinked repeatedly, trying to process what Pandora had just said.

"Dora, you can't just drop that on them, they'll freak," said the boy with cornrows. "Also, where's Barty?"

"Barty Crouch Jr?" Harry asked. "Why?"

"He's the love of my life and he held me while I died, duh," said the man who had to be Evan Rosier.

Luna's shoulders slumped. "He impersonated Alastor Moody for nine months and kept him in a box, attempted to have Harry killed by Voldemort, and was given the Dementor's Kiss."

There was a noticable posture change for all of them. Dorcas, James, and Regulus slouched a little, but Evan brightened. "Petty motherfucker."

"Topic at hand, Ev," Pandora said.

Lily grinned at Harry's dumbfounded look. "Yup, Haz. I was a surrogate for these two fucking idiots because Reg wanted a kid and James will do anything for him, at all, ever."

"Rude," James said, arms crossed playfully.

"True," Regulus countered, sharing a grin with Remus.

Harry wasn't quite sure what was happening anymore, but he knew one thing for sure: these were people he really should've grown up with.

[wizard-on-whales]

Modern AU! for rdr2 characters

These are my headcannons for each character and what I think they would do in modern times.

Characters included: Arthur, Micah, Dutch, John, Abigail, Mary-Beth, Karen, Tilly, Sadie, Strauss, Charles, Susan, Bill, Lenny, Hosea, Sean, Molly, Javier, Swanson

_______________________________

Arthur Morgan: 

He works a blue-collar job. He would most likely be a ranch hand, but for some reason, I can also imagine him being a plumber or welder. In his free time, he does art and sells prints on Etsy. He is still an old-fashioned gentleman (In a good way), and all of the ladies he meets swoon for him, but he is a himbo and doesn't realize they are practically in love with him. They will give him the most obvious hints, but he will think the women are just being nice. 

Micah Bell:

He's the creepy uncle that you avoid at every family gathering. He hasn't had a job in like 15 years, and no one knows how he can still pay his bills. And he also always smells like lingering alcohol and cigarettes. He will lean too close to his nieces and say extremely concerning things everyone would choose to ignore. Im also getting the vibes that he went to prison for several years, but no one knows what for.

Dutch Van Der Linde:

He sells people scams or owns a pyramid scheme business. Similar to Scentsy products, he somehow convinces all of these people to buy his products to sell to other people, telling them they will get rich by selling these products, but, in reality, he's screwing them over and making most of the money himself. 

John Marston: 

If we are talking about early Red Dead 2 Marston, he still lives in his parent's basement and plays video games on his PC all day. He also watches Andrew Tate and would try to boss Abigail around and tell her he's an alpha male. (She'd slap him and tell him to get over himself) Late rdr2 and rdr1, he's grown out of that mindset and has become a working family man. Potentially also a welder, like I said for Arthur. But any high-paying physical job works.  

I feel like Abigail, Mary-Beth, Karen, and Tilly would all have a mom group they host every week to discuss their child's newest achievements. Their husbands think that is all they do at the meetings, but they also have in-depth conversations about women's suffrage and how the world caters to men. They think of ways to better the world and bring more women together to discuss these topics and bring light to issues regarding women. The girls would run a pretty popular Facebook group where they let other women express their opinions on those topics. (Arthur is a part of the Facebook group and likes every post he sees and comments shit like, “You're doing great, ladies! Keep up the good work! 😁🥰👍”) 

Sadie would probably occasionally attend these meetings (Although I dont see her having children, she would go for the cheap wine and to hang with her friends). Sadie would also go for the in-depth conversations and bring new thoughts to the table because she is a CEO or manager for a very successful company. She would share her experiences of what it's like to be on top of the men who work for her but still be looked down upon by them simply because of her gender. She would also probably share tips on that Facebook page on how to create a successful business without having to attend years of college and give tips for all stay-at-home moms who want to be more than just moms and wives. (She would also be the cool rich aunt)

Leopold Strauss: 

He would do the same thing. He gives loans to people who he knows won't be able to pay back the money, and then when the bill comes, he'd ruin their lives and probably end up breaking up families/ relationships and send people to jail for not paying back the money in time. 

Charles Smith:

I can see him being a park ranger or working in any conservation field. Potentially even a firefighter who deals with all of the forest fires that happen in places along the West Coast. He’d also be one to do something similar to what he did in the game, but he would work with the local native tribes against companies to try to win back their lands before it gets plowed over for an Amazon factory or something. 

Susan Grimshaw:

I can see her being the mean substitute teacher who yells at everyone to get to work, and then when someone does something slightly wrong, she would yell at the whole class and be like, “In all of my years of teaching, I have never seen a class behave this badly.” Either that or she would work at the front desk of the business Sadie runs. Miss Grimshaw would NOT play with anyone who would try to be rude towards her. 

Bill Williamson: 

Ehem…a police officer. I feel like this one is self-explanatory. But he would mostly sit in his car and do nothing his entire shift. Occasionally pulling someone over for speeding. If they are a white dude, he'd would let them off with just a warning. Poor Lenny would probably get the ticket. 

Lenny Summers: 

I feel like he would be the one to graduate high school early and go to college as soon as possible. I dont know exactly what he would choose for his degree, but I feel like it would be something involving politics. Maybe that wouldn't be his major, but he would take a government class. Or Potentially going into journaling. 

Hosea Matthews:

He's the retired grandpa who used to work in a factory where he made a surprising amount of money and was able to retire early. He spends most of his days walking up at 5 in the morning to watch the sunrise and read the morning paper. And he’ll spend every opportunity he gets to take his kids or grandkids fishing. And if you stay at his house overnight or for the weekend, he gives you a bowl of ice cream every night before bed and recounts every story he could think of that happened from the last time you saw him. (Some of them are surprisingly concerning, but he is one of those badass grandpas)

Sean Macguire:

Similar to John, Sean would spend most of his time gaming on his PC and arguing with children on COD or Fortnite. But he also works at a local bar as the bartender and won't hesitate to argue with the drunk assholes and would slap a bitch if needed. But he also embarrasses himself by flirting with women who will give him dirty looks or tell him that they are gay. (I feel like Karen would also work late-night shifts at the bar with him, but shes also taking online college classes because she wants to be a social worker) 

Molly O’Shea:

Instagram and TikTok influencer 100%, and lots of brands like to sponsor her and send her free stuff (Mostly because of Dutch’s business.) and she posts videos of her and Dutch, and everyone in the comments freaks out about how he is grooming her because of their age difference but she denies it all and says that they are actually in love.  But then she would post a video to that one sound, “My god this reminds me of when we were young.” And Molly be like 8, and Dutch be in his mid-to-late 20s. 

Javier Escuella: 

He’d be a musician. He would have started out in a shitty garage band with Sean and John or something, but then he’d realize he actually wants to be a serious musician while the other guys were just messing around. So he’d leave and make solo music that blows up, and he ends up going on tour, and making a lot of money and becoming hugely successful. 

Reverend Swanson:

The preacher you always see in the corner of the bar Sean works at. And if you went up to him and started talking to him, he’d tell you the most profound things. He would tell you about his life when he was younger and what happened that made him lose hope, but he would motivate you to never give up. He’d be that person you meet by chance for a few seconds that you would never forget. Hosea probably invites him to go fishing with him from time to time. But instead of fishing, Swanson stares at the water ripples in silence. Hosea would let him sit in silence and let Swanson enjoy the company and the time to think while being sober. 

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