Fanfics I Gone And Wrote

I'm a dude who writes sometimes. I am an adult. I write adult themes. Anyone under the age of 18 cannot be welcomed here.

[lacrymatoryao3]

Directory:

Long Form Fics:

⦿Redemption Was Just The Beginning (In Progress)⦿

⁍ Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 ⁌

⦿The Letter⦿

⦿Whiskey and Gunsmoke⦿

⦿A Love Like Blood⦿

One Shots:

⦿First Time for Everything (Charthur)⦿

⦿Bloedzuiger (Vampire!Dutch/GN!Reader)⦿

[lacrymatoryao3]

WIP for @photo1030 so they don't think I'm dead or gave up on it

[lacrymatoryao3]

Thank you to everyone who got me to 500 likes!

[lacrymatoryao3]

Kind of want to write a fic where Annabelle's ghost appears to Dutch and is like "quit being shit 2 ur girlfriend" and it works somehow.

[lacrymatoryao3]

Redemption Was Just The Beginning

Chapter 13: February, 1900 (Continued)

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12]

To the world, Arthur Morgan is dead. As he tries to face the idea, in a lush valley in Ambarino he comes face to face with a woman from his past, and they must reckon with an era long gone. Especially when she has secrets of her own.

(Rated explicit simply because eventually there’s smut in this.)

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I live in the US and life has become an increasing nightmare.

Tag: @photo1030

1,946 Words (AO3 Link)

It was still dark when Arthur and his son set out. It was eerily silent. There was no sounds of birds or other wildlife, not even the howling of wolves. It was only filled by the horses’ hooves crunching down in the deepening snow, or the steam created from theirs or their riders’ breaths. When the cabin was out of sight the feeling of isolation became imperious. Not even the moon was in the starless and overcast sky to keep them company. They held their lanterns close to Arthur’s compass, or to Arthur Francisco’s hand drawn map of the area they needed to travel to.

The trek lasted until the mid-morning when the snow was losing its orange tint from the dawn, higher and higher up the mountains. They stopped at a plateau over looking a small crater that became a deep, frozen over lake that fed the river below. Just off center within it was a small island. In the spring time there was likely still some snow, but not enough for the water to stay icy or to stop the plant life from becoming green. With food and a water source, it was good enough for moose.

“Is this the place?” Arthur asked quietly.

Arthur Francisco looked at the map and nodded.

“Okay.” Arthur continued, “Now, what we’re gonna need to do, is start looking for signs.”

They left their horses in a safe place and went on foot half a mile further up the mountain. They scanned the trunks of the ancient, tall fur trees. They focused upon ones where the branches didn’t start until several feet up. They finally found one with stripped bark and deep grooves in the wood, something a bull moose would do to assert dominance in their territory. While it was a good sign, there didn’t seem to be any recent tracks in the snow.

They curved their way eastward. They found an area with thicker brush that had more things a moose would usually eat in the winter months. Carefully keeping his eyes to the ground, Arthur eventually found something. Near a patch of eaten up juniper, there was a fresh pile of moose droppings and tracks in the snow that weren’t yet erased.

“Seems a way’s off, but not too bad.” Arthur muttered.

They followed the tracks zigzagging through the landscape. Along the way there were more signs like other scraped trees and fur. It led them to the other side of the lake, where there was an almost farmland-like field of bare bushes. At the center there was a great bull moose, its head bent down and making a meal of the twigs. Before it could catch their scent, Arthur and Arthur Francisco backed further away and huddled behind a large rock on the ridge line above the animal.

Arthur sized the moose up using his binoculars. It was massive even for its species. From hoof to shoulder it looked about 10 and a half feet tall. Its body rounder than that of a draft horse from eating so well to survive the season. It was probably close to 2,000 pounds. Its head was thick and solid, especially carrying its monumental antlers that spread farther than Arthur was tall.

“Looks like this is our boy, son.” Arthur whispered, “You ready?”

Arthur Francisco took his Carcano off his back. He loaded it close to the ground so the snow muffled the sound. He stood up slowly and lifted it. Arthur rested his hand on the boy’s back to stabilize his shot, telling him to aim as much to the forehead as possible to preserve the antlers and the pelt. Arthur Francisco focused with his eye in the scope. He took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger.

The shot that rang out echoed through the mountains. The bull moose’s head jerked with a spray of blood as the bullet went through its head. Its body dropped hard on the cushioned ground without any resistance and laid there completely still with vapor coming from the fatal wound where its warmth inside met the cold.

A thunderous and gleeful laugh burst from Arthur's throat, replacing the deafening ringing in Arthur Francisco's ears. He stood up and towered over the boy, excitedly grabbing him by the shoulders.

"You got him!" Arthur cried, "You sure as shit got him!"

The moose was an even more massive beast up close. Arthur whistled for the horses, and then took out his knife. He used the tip to point at where to cut open the abdomen for field dressing. He then gave Arthur Francisco the blade and talked him through it.

"Get the knife through the skin and muscle. Then just slide it in as straight of a line as you can. Nice and easy..."

Arthur Francisco opened the animal, exposing the viscera with the unflowing blood leaking out of his incision.

"Now, we're gonna need to get rid of all them organs. Anything that we can't eat needs to go, so it don't dirty up the good meat. It'll lighten up the load we'll be draggin'."

Arthur helped in removing the unpleasant parts of the animal, then left the rest for the boy to do with his supervision. They kept the heart and liver, wrapping them individually in waxed paper and covering them with cloth and string.

Arthur Francisco looked at his soiled gloves and the mess they left, "What's going to happen to all this?"

"Animals'll get them. Probably wolves or anythin' else around here that eats meat." Arthur said, "A free meal that's easy to come by is much appreciated until Spring."

When the horses arrived, Arthur pulled several feet of rope and large canvas tarps out of his saddle bags. He placed them on the snow beside the moose and spread them out. He and Arthur Francisco took the moose by the legs and rolled it onto its other side onto them. They wrapped it and secured it with the ropes, affixing them to the bodies of their horses in a way that didn't bruise the moose's flesh or damage its antlers.

They slowly used their horses to drag the moose out. Arthur patted Arthur Francisco on the back, "You did real good, son. Your mama will very proud."

[*]-----[*]-----[*]-----[*]-----[*]

Ana watched for them. That and going out to keep the snow drifts from building up at the door. The moment she heard the horses in the distance, excitement and apprehension came in equal measure. It would be a major disappointment for Arthur Francisco if he didn’t manage to catch anything.

She let out a sigh of relief when she saw they were dragging something, and it was much larger than she expected. When they stopped in front of the cabin the antlers told her they found their target before anything could be said.

“My God!” Ana cried, “Look at him!”

“We’ll have plenty of meat now!” Arthur Francisco said with the largest grin.

Arthur and Arthur Francisco dismounted and untied the moose from the horses. Arthur removed the canvas and Ana got a better look at it. She had never seen such a creature. Then again, she wasn’t sure if she ever saw a moose to begin with. She heard of them, she saw drawings of them in books and knew they were formidable, but this one seemed like a giant.

Ana wrapped her arms around Arthur Francisco and Arthur, “Good job you two! Once we take this to the butcher’s everyone in town will be talking!”

They had to hang the carcass high up in a bare tree. Arthur climbed it and threw the ropes over the thickest branch supporting the beast’s great weight. As he got down Arthur Francisco was lashing the horses in a single file, first Delfina, second Josefina, and lastly the Criollo. Ana tied the ropes to the moose’s hind legs, Arthur taking the other end of them and attaching them in a chain-like manner to each horse. Arthur and Arthur Francisco slowly leg them forward, the moose dragging along the snow until it was lifted in the air. They all carefully tied the ropes off to the tree trunk, making sure their trophy didn’t fall to the ground or be accessible to any roving scavengers looking for a quick meal.

Even so, Arthur Francisco frequently checked it from the window for the rest of the afternoon into the evening.

“Are you sure it’ll be fine?” He asked.

“It’ll be fine son,” Arthur said, “Wolves don’t jump that high.”

“And bears are still hibernating, plus mountain lions aren’t this far north.” Ana added, “Now, come and sit down. We’ll play a game until it’s time for bed.”

When they were gone, Ana had found an old and ragged deck of cards on the hearth mantle. They tried a few card games until they somehow ended up with an adapted version of Poker. She didn’t really want to teach her son how to gamble, but it seemed the only game she and Arthur were good at. Since they didn’t have chips, Ana opened and sorted a jar of mixed dried beans. Instead of monetary amounts, they became point based. The white beans were 1, the red beans 5, the orange-ish brown beans 10, the green beans 25, and the black beans were 100. The person with the most amount of points would win.

After a few hours and several cups of gin for Arthur and Ana, they ended up losing miserably to Arthur Francisco, who had every pile of beans in front of him. In any other circumstance, Ana wouldn’t have been amused by it, but she laughed just as hard as Arthur was.

Ana put Arthur Francisco to bed not long after. It allowed the alcohol to take over Arthur, watching Ana climb up the ladder behind their son in a dreamlike manner. He let his mind wander to when they were young. When they spent so many nights together, two lonely people desperate for a loving touch.

Ana climbed down and noticed the way he was looking at her. She smiled, “What’s that for?”

“Nothin’…” Arthur replied, “You just look good, is all.”

Ana laughed and went back to her chair, “I don’t think you drank that much.”

“I’m serious!” Arthur said.

Without thinking about it so he wouldn’t stop himself, he reached over to Ana. He wrapped his strong arms around her waist, lifting her from her seat and into his lap. It was surprising, but Ana was in no way going to protest.

He held her tightly and buried his face in the crook where her shoulder met her neck, taking in her scent and presence. She ran her fingers through his hair. It sent a desperate chill through his body. He lifted his head and his lips found the exposed flesh of her jaw. She let out a soft moan, and tilted her head to the other side. It further emboldened him, moving upwards until their lips met. Both eager to have some taste of the other as Arthur’s hands wandered from her back to her upper thighs.

Through frantic breaths Ana had to remind him how careful they needed to be, with Arthur Francisco just above them to easily hear.

Arthur let out a reluctant, but understanding groan, “Are we ever goin’ to be able to be alone?”

“I would like that more than anything.” Ana replied, “There is an opportunity I was going to talk to you about. Valentine, down in New Hanover. There’s a horse auction in Spring. I’d like you to come with me.”

Arthur nodded eagerly, “Oh, I’d like that.”

[lacrymatoryao3]

Happy Halloween! 🎃 Trick or Treat!👻

I give you a mango. Do not let Dutch see it.

[lacrymatoryao3]

Redemption Was Just The Beginning

Chapter 12: February, 1900

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11]

To the world, Arthur Morgan is dead. As he tries to face the idea, in a lush valley in Ambarino he comes face to face with a woman from his past, and they must reckon with an era long gone. Especially when she has secrets of her own.

(Rated explicit simply because eventually there’s smut in this.)

Tag: @photo1030

2,468 Words (AO3 Link)

The weekend that Ana’s birthday fell on was ironically the coldest days of the winter. She made it clear, more than once, she didn’t want anything special. It didn’t matter to her. It was just the day she became another year older. Arthur could relate. He hadn’t paid much attention to his own in many years, He didn’t even really know the day any longer. Sometime in July, from what Ana had told him. He supposed the trip up to the mountains for Arthur Francisco to get his moose, though he was willing to settle for an elk if they couldn’t track the former, was special enough for her.

Every breath Arthur took while outside burned, as if the air was turning his lungs into ice. He trudged to the shelter attached to the stables where the wagon was stored, missing the West more and more with every step. The deserts there were just as unforgiving, sometimes with the dust storms that were as terrible as the blizzards, but there he wouldn’t be freezing his balls off. Worse, it was going to be several more hours dealing with the weather once they were on the trails.

The radiant heat from the stable stoves made his work bearable. The wagon needed its cover put back on before he loaded it so their cargo wouldn’t freeze quite as fast or be blanketed by snow kicked up from the wheels. He started by taking the hoops off the wall, five strong but thin wood arches bent into a U shape. He inserted them deeply into the slots along the edges of the wagon’s walls on both sides. He then drug a large and heavy canvas into the wagon, draping it over each hoop until the wagon bed was completely enclosed. He jumped out and tied the canvas in place on nails pounded into the outside walls until it was tight and unmoving.

He went into the stable and brought out two strong Dark Bay Shires. He put on their collars and myriad of straps before finally attaching them by the neck to the wagon’s yoke. Then, he went back in to tack Josefina, Delfina, and a Bay Frame Overo Criollo yearling that was Ana’s substitute for Enrique – he was too old to handle the long and arduous journey. He hitched them to rings on the sides of the wagon, climbing into the seat and slowly maneuvering to the front of the house.

Arthur Francisco had carried the crates of provisions they needed to survive only a few days in a remote hunting cabin. The boy seemed immune to the cold, just sitting there making sure his gun was ready. Arthur envied him as he shivered taking the crates one after another and shoving them into the back. There was enough food to last longer than they intended to be there, and utensils for cooking and eating. There was good, thick bedrolls and pillows and blankets. There was also various tools the cabin didn’t provide. It made him question how they were even going to fit a large animal with them, but he tried to arrange them in a way so there was enough room.

“Has your mama come back yet?” Arthur asked the boy. He hadn’t seen Ana all morning after breakfast. She had to speak with Mr. Liang to make sure everything was perfectly arranged for him to take over while they were gone.

“She’s in the kitchen.” Arthur Francisco replied.

Arthur sighed with relief going into the house. He took a moment to warm himself up by the fire, then going to the kitchen and get another hot cup of coffee.

Ana had her back turned at the counter of the Hoosier cabinet counter, making sandwiches for the ride. Arthur stopped dead in his tracks in the entryway. He blinked hard. The way she was dressed was something he had never witnessed her in before. Wrapped around her head and shoulders partially covering a dark green, cable knit Donegal sweater was one of her colorful shawls. That wasn’t what stunned him. Instead of a skirt she wearing a pair of pants, decorated on the outward sides of the legs with silver, bow shaped conchos. It wasn’t the fact she was wearing them. He had seen plenty of women in various styles of them before. What changed his demeanor was how tight they were. They hugged her form, accentuating her thighs and backside that had become wider and larger than what they used to be. His eyes traced every curve up and down. It triggered a spark in his brain, rekindling a long dormant flame that burned through him and settled in his lower abdomen.

It took all he had to restrain himself, to control his more primal impulses. His instinct was to walk up to her and grab her, knead her fabric covered flesh. He imagined how soft she felt. It made the heat travel a little lower than he was comfortable with. He shut his eyes for a moment, shaking his head rapidly to knock the thought of molesting her out of his brain. It was wrong to be looking at her the way he was, like a piece of meat and he was a starved dog. He averted his gaze the best he could, going to the kettle and getting the coffee he wanted. Holding the cup, he found he was trembling slightly. He didn’t like that either, the smallest thing working him up.

“I… Don’t think I’ve ever seen you like that.” Arthur managed to mumble.

Ana turned and held their lunches bundled in warmed cloths, “Oh! You’re right! I learned the hard way trudging through snow in a skirt is a terrible idea.”

Arthur swallowed to keep his voice steady, “Think you’ll be warm enough?”

“They’re fur lined.” Ana said, “So I should be fine. Is everything ready?”

“Yes, ma’am. Waitin’ on you.”

Ana gave him the bundles, “I just need to get my coat and hat on. I won’t be long.”

Arthur went back outside to wait for her. Being re-shocked by the cold helped him calm down some. He shoved the bundles through the small hole in the canvas at the back, which Arthur Francisco had closed up when he climbed in. Arthur got into the driver’s seat when Ana joined, climbing up beside him with a quilt that covered both of their legs.

The wheels started to go deeper into the snow as they started to descend upwards into the mountain. Arthur allowed himself to go deeper into distracting thoughts, but they weren’t pleasant ones. He kept being reminded of the mad dash after the disaster at Blackwater. They had taken a long and confusing route. It was an attempt to throw lawmen, bounty hunter, and the Pinkertons off their trail. It succeeded until the spring blizzard hit them, slowing them down. Arthur had barely slept when that happened, being constantly on guard until it was too much for his injured Boadicea. He had to leave the poor, beloved horse’s body somewhere around Tempest Rim.

Then they suffered when young Jenny Kirk died and they had to stop to give her a proper burial near where Spider Gorge flowed from the glacier. All the while Davey Callander was fading faster and faster. At first it appeared he would possibly live when Dutch sent him ahead to find somewhere to rest for a while, and maybe find John and Micah along the way who went some time before him, with Charles’s horse Taima he let Arthur borrow.

If he had been a religious man he’d have said the discovery of the abandoned mining town of Colter was a Godsend. Being in those slowly rotting, drafty, and creaking structures was much better than being battered out in the open. Arthur didn’t expect where they were going to was going to be like that, but he still felt a twinge of those ghosts coming to meet him.

Halfway up the mountain there was a large board nailed to a tree with a message painted by hand in black. It was so weather beaten Arthur had to stop and get down to read it. The sign was just a large slab of untreated plywood. What it once said was something along the lines of: ‘TOWN – ABOUT 8 MILES BEHIND. CABIN – ABOUT 8 MILES AHEAD. APPROVED GUESTS ONLY! OWNER LIVES 3 MILES NORTHWEST OF CABIN’.

It was a good place to rest anyway. From there on the path was only getting steeper upwards for another 2 hours. There everyone answered the calls of nature. When they finished and washed their hands with the snow they gathered back into the wagon and ate their sandwiches. Despite the hours in the chill they were still semi-warm, just two thin slices of bread filled with a thick mixture of shredded chicken and hard boiled egg seasoned with curry powder and a paste made of spiced stewed tomatoes.

It was enough to keep them going the rest of the way, which became considerably slower as the snow piled up higher and higher. The wheels creaked threateningly and the horses – even the ones that weren’t hauling the wagon – complained loudly every few minutes. Arthur looked around, hoping he was going the right direction. In the forest be found a billow of smoke rising above the trees. As he drove closer, the trail led them into a clearing next to a mostly frozen river. Sitting on a high stone foundation to avoid snow piling up against it was the cabin. It was small and primitive, but looked sufficient for a weary traveler. It had the outhouse not too far, connected by a covered walkway, and a stable to shelter the horses and wagon from the harsh elements.

Arthur got as close to the recently cleared stairs as he could. They could finally stretch their legs more while carrying everything inside. It was a small space. There was only enough room for a dining table, a dry sink, a table counter and a single cabinet above it on the wall. To cook Ana would need to use the fireplace. The only place to sleep was a loft, only accessible by a narrow ladder. Everything was for necessity, not for comfort.

Ana started adding more logs to the fire. She pulled out some cans from one of the crates and picking out what type of pot to cook with. Arthur Francisco was tasked with putting their bedrolls into the loft, giving Ana and Arthur a moment alone, which was to be a rare occasion with the trip.

She motioned to him to come closer to her, “Do you feel up to taking Arthur Francisco fishing in the river? There’s good salmon in there.”

“I suppose.” Arthur replied.

Ana reached into a hidden pocket in her coat. He didn’t realize she had brought the two photos from her desk with her. When she gave them to him, he knew what she wanted him to do.

“I think it’s time.” She said, “However you feel like doing it.”

Arthur took a deep breath. He climbed halfway up the ladder to call for Arthur Francisco, who came down and eagerly grabbed the fishing equipment. He went out ahead to look for a good spot along the river that had visible flowing water. When Arthur joined him, he made a fire to keep at least some of the cold away.

Arthur Francisco baited both rods. He crouched in the snow, casting his. In the ice he could see fish swimming around. He set his sights on the large salmon. There were other species who also became interested in the bait, and interesting thing Arthur Francisco did was flick the line a few times to scare them away.

Arthur didn’t have a system like the boy did. He didn’t see himself as a good fisherman, but he also wasn’t terrible at it. He managed to be more successful with it the year before. He managed to start teaching Isaac many years ago. He taught Jack Marston, though the little boy wasn’t old enough to have the attention span for very long. Arthur simply cast the line as far as it would go, making a quick jolt of the line and waited.

Either way, it took a little while until one of them got a bite. Arthur Francisco’s method was more successful, or he had more patience than Arthur. From the clear icy water they watched a Sockeye nibble at his line, before taking a bite that hooked him. Arthur Francisco stood, pulling the rod upward and pulling it in the opposite direction of the struggling fish. When it became exhausted, he reeled it in. Inspecting it the salmon was a good weight and maturity, at least 5 pounds. The head was a green and gray with orange eyes, and the rest of its body a bright red.

Arthur patted the boy on the back, “Good job! Your mama will be very happy with that!”

Arthur Francisco laid the fish in the snow and went over to warm himself by the fire. Putting his rod away, Arthur decided it was now or never to talk to him. He sat down on a tree stump and took out the photos from Ana.

“Hey, Arthur…” He said gently, “Come here for a minute. I need to tell you somethin’.”

He waited until Arthur Francisco sat next to him and continued, “Now, I ain’t good with all this, but your mother and I were talkin’ about it for a while. We decided it was time for you to know about your father.”

He showed Arthur Francisco the pictures and explained them the best he could.

“You mother and I lost our parents when we were pretty young. So, to get by we ended up doin’ some pretty bad things. It took me longer to get out of them than her. Durin’ the time these were taken we had been in a relationship of sorts. A couple of years later she got pregnant with you and decided to leave to give you a better life than we had. She did a damn fine job of it too.”

He braced himself for whatever reaction the boy could have. He could see the gears turning in Arthur Francisco’s mind through his eyes as he gazed at the photos, piecing together that the man in them with Ana and the man sitting with him was indeed his father.

Arthur Francisco looked at him, “Really?”

Arthur nodded, “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you growin’ up. I want to make up for it… Do better… If you want that.”

Arthur Francisco jumped up and threw his arms around Arthur. He took it as an acceptance from the boy.

[lacrymatoryao3]

Bloedzuiger

Dutch Van der Linde/GN!Reader

Dutch Van der Linde is a vampire who crashes your family's party and targets you as his next victim.

#### 1,715 Words (AO3 Link)

You weren’t in the habit letting strangers into your home. You knew the risks of that from living in such a violent town full of cowboys, miners, and outlaws in equal measure. But on that evening your family was hosting a party. So when a knock came from the front door, you thought nothing of it. The man who stood in front of you looked familiar enough to you. Perhaps a distant relative you only saw one or twice in your life, or someone who lived in the area that your family was cordial with.

He introduced himself as a Mr. ‘Dutch’ Van der Linde. He took your hand in his with two gold rings on his fingers. On his pinky a circular one with the face of a lion that had two small rubies for eyes. On his middle was a larger rectangular signet ring with a gold D in black enamel in a Gothic font. He pressed his thin and abnormally cool lips to your top palm. His facial hair tickled your flesh, a black and well groomed mustache and an unshaven patch just above his chin.

He gave an odd energy. It was alluring, yet your deepest instincts shivered. Despite it, you were drawn to him. He was an older gentleman, but not elderly. Somewhere in his 40s, if you had to guess. He was quite tall and slender, but something told you he held incredible strength if the circumstances called for it.. His black hair was long, swept behind his ears and reached down to his neck. It was mostly straight, except with thick and loose curls at the ends. His almond shaped and wide set eyes were also dark. In the mixture of night outside and the kerosene fed lighting inside, they almost glowed like amber. Even stranger, they were piercing. As he gazed at you, it felt like he was reading your very thoughts and it only further fascinated you. It kept you looking upon his angular face, with high cheekbones that had a noticeable mole on the right one and a large well shaped nose.

His fine clothing was also dark. He had on a black velvet, wide lapel frock coat that made his figure striking. The lining of it a deep red silk, in the pocket was a well folded handkerchief that corresponded with it. His vest was also velvet and red, with gold buttons and a matching single watch chain suspended from one of them. His pants were black, the usual cut that men wore though a bit tighter than what was normal, covering his black leather boots.

It was only a brief moment that felt like hours. You welcomed him in. When he stepped over the threshold you felt and icy breeze. You led him into the large parlor where everyone else was. You offered him a drink, but he refused. He excused himself by explaining he doesn’t partake in alcohol. He wasn’t much interested in the table of canapes either, but he did help himself to a cigar.

You excused yourself to allow Dutch to mingle with the other guests. It was difficult to do so, like something had possessed you to desire to only want his attention in return for yours. You didn’t stray far. As he wandered around and chatted, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You weren’t the only one, except in the eyes of your families and partygoers there was a glimmer of deep unease when they were near him.

It was a short time later he returned to you. He found you sitting quietly in the corner with a glass of wine. His warm smile and gentle gaze intoxicated you more than spirit you were sipping ever could. He leaned over you playfully, the shadow of his form enveloped you and made you dizzy. His voice was more stimulating than the music playing over the phonograph.

Dutch extended his hand to you, “Would you care to dance with me?”

“Of course!” You replied, exhilarated by the offer.

Standing up, the both of you went to an empty spot in the room. He quickly swept you close to him, resting one hand on your lower back and taking one of your hands into his ringed one. Like his lips, they were abnormally cold. His firm hold that made your heart race, to the point you couldn’t feel his at all. It was as if he took control of your body as you twirled almost inhumanly around the floor. The people around side eyed the two of you nervously, but you didn’t care. Nor did you have any concern when you caught a glimpse of yourself – and only yourself – in a large mirror on the wall. He seemed completely absent.

You spent the rest of the evening in his company until it became late into the night when people began to leave. You felt so high, so alive, it was almost unbearable to think of parting with him. If it had not been scandalous, you would have begged him to stay. As you saw him to the door, it felt like he could sense it.

“Don’t worry,” Dutch said soothingly, “I’m sure we will see each other again.”

You deeply hoped that would be true.

When you crawled into your bed after everything was cleaned up and settled, you couldn’t help but feel a little lonely. What manner of a man, this Dutch Van der Linde, made you long for him so? What about him made you want? To throw away all propriety? To risk your reputation? You felt like you were missing a part of you, withdrawing from the strongest drug.

You turned onto your side, taking one of your pillows and holding onto it. You pretended it was him. Lying beside you, holding you in his arms, speaking all those pretty little things he did during the party. His voice soothing you into sleep.

In between the realm of slumber and wakefulness you started to hear something strange at your window. At first you ignored it, thinking it was a lucid dream. It became more insistent and demanding. It sounded like tapping against the glass. You sat up, trying to figure out what it could be. It wasn’t a tree branch, the elms and oaks weren’t close enough to the house. It persisted until you finally got up to investigate. You pulled the curtains back, flooding yourself and the room in bright moonlight. You lifted the lower pane of you window and stuck your head out. You couldn’t see anything when you looked around, except a blanket of mist on the lawn.

It moved with an intelligence you had never seen, one that hypnotized you. It crawled along the grass and up the outer wall of the house. It poured through the window and surrounded you in a cold embrace you welcomed. It felt like someone was taking hold of your shoulders, gently but firmly guiding you backward to your bed.

You sat down and laid back obediently. In the mist, there were little flecks of dust. They whirled around in front of you, taking on a human shape as they danced quicker and gathered together. At first he was just a phantom, then materialized was the man who had become the object of your desire. It didn’t disturb your sense of soothing calm. You just stared at him with half closed eyes.

Dutch was sitting at the edge of your bed hovering over you. He looked just the same was earlier, except his eyes glowed more intensely and he changed his clothes to a brocaded black vest with a red back panel. The watch chain suspended from the button had a red gem suspended from it. He caressed your cheek with his fingertips. They then trailed down your face to the left side of your neck. The sensation was overwhelming, pleasurable and repulsive at the same time. You gasped, your head tilting over to give him better access to the delicate flesh. He leaned in closer until you could feel his breath on your skin, causing it to tickle in an unfamiliar way.

“Yes, yes, just relax…” Dutch whispered in your ear, opening the collar of your nightclothes and pulling it away from your body, “Don’t you worry. I only take what I need.”

His tongue darted out of his mouth. He pressed it against your shoulder and slowly dragged it along where your jugular vein was hidden beneath the surface. He stopped halfway when he found a particularly sensitive spot that made you groan under the pressure. He let out a low chuckle.

You could only pant when his lips latched onto that area of your neck, then the tips of two sharp eye teeth. Then you felt them pierce you. Your eyes widened as an unbearable and stinging pain tore through your body. It slowly dissipated, being replaced by a tranquillizingly warm numbness. You felt a hot wetness from the wounds he created, which he sucked and licked up with satisfied sighs.

He was drawing large amounts of blood, at least from your point of view. Even if you wanted to stop him, you couldn’t. The moment he bit you he controlled you. He owned you. He now knew every little thing about you. Your hopes, your fears. Your thoughts and desires. Your personality was bared before him as he drank.

Time seemed to slow. It felt like the entire night went by in your stupor, until he finally had his fill. He closed the wounds and lifted his head. You finally saw the face of a human man, a mask hiding the creature underneath. You could see the stains of your blood on his lips.

“You are a delight.” Dutch said, “I will make a visit to you again.”

He kissed your forehead and stood, leaving out of the window from where he came. You closed your heavy eyes. Weak and light headed, you fell into a deep and dreamless unconsciousness.

In the morning at breakfast your family noticed your paleness and how frail you seemed. They wanted to call for a doctor, which you refused. You would become strong again in time. When you did, you hoped Dutch would keep his promise.

[lacrymatoryao3]

Redemption Was Just The Beginning

Chapter 11: January, 1900 (Continued)

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10]

To the world, Arthur Morgan is dead. As he tries to face the idea, in a lush valley in Ambarino he comes face to face with a woman from his past, and they must reckon with an era long gone. Especially when she has secrets of her own.

(Rated explicit simply because eventually there’s smut in this.)

Tag: @photo1030

2,471 Words (AO3 Link)

Arthur had never seen Mr. O’Hogan with a gun until the morning helping him get the wagon and draft horses out of the storage. He didn’t doubt his conviction taking the children and dealing with the problem at hand, but he didn’t expect he’d do it armed. It was just a standard Cattleman, though customized to have bundles of four leafed clovers carved onto the grip and metal in a greenish-black matte. O’Hogan bragged about getting it in a cock fighting bet when he was fresh off the boat in New York City. Arthur wasn’t even sure he could shoot the thing, but he was proud to show it off anyway.

The children were pleased with the new novelty. The older ones assisted the younger ones board from the back. Arthur closed the hatch and latched it before they pulled off. He and Ana followed them on their horses through the town. Amusingly and unsurprisingly, more local children ended up in the wagon.

“Don’t let too many on, Mr. O’Hogan!” Ana teased, “We can’t be having that break!”

At the school Ana and Mr. O’Hogan went to speak with Miss Svensson. Arthur watched from a distance. He wished once again he had the opportunity to go to one like that, interact with other children that didn’t relate to fighting other street kids for resources. His boy was so very lucky.

His boy… Their boy…

He heard Ana laugh. It was a sweet sound, like chiming far off in the distance. She looked truly radiant, a breath of life in her bright red mantle cape among the dead and monochrome landscape. He could hardly wait for the summer. To see her in her bright dresses. He hoped she still wore some of the ones she used to. He felt a pressure in his chest. An admiring longing that came close to overwhelming him, just to get off his horse and wrap his arms around her waist. He wanted to rest his chin on the top of her head, even though it could crush the hat pinned into her hair. He craved to make those around them know she was his. He needed her to be again. He would, at some point. They just needed the time alone, where they can express things freely without interruption.

Arthur took a deep breath once the bell began to toll. When Ana rejoined him, he didn’t let her get on Enrique by herself. He had to touch her in some way, if only just to sate himself. There was a slight confusion in Ana’s eyes. It was brief as he lifted her into her saddle, changing into a bashful smile. It made Arthur’s heart jump. Even in the cold, he felt warm.

They parted ways with Mr. O’Hogan and went to a building that doubled as the town’s court and meeting house, where the only lawyer there had an office. Arthur wandered around the building while Ana had the papers drawn up. It certainly was a long affair, over an hour before she was done. At least Ana knew what she needed, he would have been helpless in all that legal business. After that they had to stop at the bank to get the money. There he stood close to her at the window, staying vigilant when they handed her a wallet with the immense amount she requested. Arthur could barely believe a ranch could cost that much, or if she was going over value just to entice the Millers to get the hell out.

The route to where the Millers dwelt was one of near total desolation. Cain Valley abruptly ended in the north, becoming the wild landscape of Grizzlies East with only a barely identifiable trail with faded indentations of wagon wheels and horse hooves in the snow. Arthur inhaled the glacial air that burned his throat. For a moment he was once again wandering like he had done for so many years, in the savage and untamed land devoid of human beings. He was home, his old home, his true home. It was a bittersweet comfort, a warm embrace from somebody familiar that he hadn’t seen in a long time. He also considered if it held something different for Ana. What had she felt when she left him so young, pregnant, and alone?

For most of the ride Arthur stared at her. She was so quiet beside him, focused on every possible outcome to their mission turning simultaneously in her head. The sun’s beams that broke through the endless swaths of trees glowed around her, angelic on her skin. He didn’t notice they were close until she slowed Enrique. He looked to see the ranch up ahead. The property seemed to be a promising place, with a good swath of land that could be used for grazing and farming. However, in its current state it was a run down and dilapidated blight on the picturesque landscape.

“You sure this is the right place?” Arthur asked, just about convinced it was abandoned.

“Oh it is, trust me.” Ana said, “Be on your guard. You never know what this idiot will do.”

They crossed the crumbling fence line. As they hitched the horses, Eugene Miller barreled out of his shabby house holding a rusted bolt action rifle. He was a man of average height, and would have had an average build if it wasn’t for the pot belly that made him look like he was in the advanced stages of pregnancy. His graying hair and beard were long and incredibly unkempt. His nose was so wide it didn’t fit his red blotched face from over imbibing in alcohol. A very distinctive feature on the otherwise mediocre man was a great long scar that started at his forehead and ran down to one of the corners of his lip. Something else caught Arthur’s attention. Tucked underneath Miller’s wrinkled shirt collar was a knotted dark yellow bandana.

I’ve seen that before… Arthur thought, quickly pushing Ana behind him and hovering his hand over the grip of his pistol. He would have immediately drawn, if not for Miller’s wife who soon ran out after him. She was a homely woman, extremely thin in frame and face and resembled a chicken turned into a person. She also looked older than she was, a natural occurrence being married to such a hateful brute.

“What the hell are you doing on my land, greaser?” Miller bellowed in a heavy Southern accent like the ones Arthur was surrounded by during his mostly miserable tenure in Lemoyne.

All his wife had to do was move away from him. Then Arthur could have gotten a clean shot, but all she did was turn it into a tense stand off until Ana stepped out from Arthur’s shadow closer to the house.

“Hospitable as always, Mr. Miller.” Ana said calmly, waving the envelope of papers, “I’ve come with a business proposal I think would interest you.”

Miller glared at her and then scoffed, “Proposal! Damn big word for a something that can barely speak English! You even know what a dollar is?”

The tips of Arthur’s ears started to burn in fury. His fingers twitched, watching how Ana and Miller were reacting, ready at any indication of threat. Ana’s posture didn’t change. She simply made a lopsided, disdainful smirk.

“Mr. Miller, I am interested in purchasing your property. The current value for an acre is $20 each. You have, what, 100 acres?” She continued, “That would be an even $2,000 total. I’m willing to pay that and an extra $1,000.”

Miller squinted incensed at her, a fury growing in his gaze. His wife, on the other hand, seemed a lot more excited about the offer. She grasped her husband’s shoulder and whispered to him, “Eugene! We could use that to move near to Zachariah when he starts seminary!”

It caused a hissing argument between them, Miller turning his ire to her, “Quiet, woman!”

“Please, Eugene. The lady’s offering a generous sum.” Miller’s wife pressed, “We weren’t supposed to stay here this long anyway. It was just a stop while we waited for Lindsay to–”

“I TOLD YOU TO SHUT IT!” Miller whispered louder. He gripped his rifle harder in agitation, “You know goddamn well no amount of fancy clothes or white men’s money would make her a lady! You’re stupid for even considering it!”

Ana stifled her indignant laugh. The insolent bastard, of course he would make things hard, “If not now, I do ask you consider. The offer will stand for as long as you need it. I will gladly give you time to discuss it with your wife.”

Milled turned to Ana and replied, “I don’t want any money from the likes of you, Juanita! Use it to go back to where you belong.”

Ana shrugged and patted Arthur to let him know she was finished, “You know where to reach me when you’re ready. Good day, Mr. Miller.”

As Ana went to her horse she heard Miller mutter something and the clicking of the rifle having a bullet loaded into its chamber. There was an explosion, but it didn’t sound like it came from it. Still, she dropped to the ground and sought cover.

Arthur stayed where he stood when Ana started walking away. The way she implied they’d eventually sell to her, when they were ready, made Miller boil over. Lifting his rifle, Miller mumbled “you uppity little whore!” before loading it and pointing it at her. For Arthur, time seemed to slow. He didn’t register that he pulled his pistol from the holster, only the world around him drained of color until everything was a dull yellow glow. He chose his target location, painting a red X over it in his mind’s eye. He aimed from his side and pulled the trigger. The bullet cut through Miller’s right shoulder, embedding into the house’s wood siding. Miller cried out in pain, dropping the rifle and falling to the porch as his wife began to scream at the sight of the blood running out onto his shirt.

“YOU NO GOOD SON OF A BITCH!” Miller shouted, “NEXT TIME I SEE YOU, YOU’LL BE SORRY!”

“Oh, I look forward to it, Mr. Miller.” Arthur walked up and took the rifle, tossing it across the yard he tipped his hat to Miller’s wife, “Sorry about that, ma’am. We’ll let the sheriff know when we get into town.”

Ana looked up from over a large stone. She stood up and got onto Enrique. Arthur soon joined her, patting her gently and making sure she was okay. He made her go in front of him, using himself as a shield in case Miller had another weapon hidden somewhere on him. He only got a portion of what the Millers were saying to each other. The wife mentioned a doctor, only for Miller to rebuff her. He heard the door slamming loudly and a defeated wife sigh “I knew this would happen”.

[*]-----[*]-----[*]-----[*]-----[*]

Arthur tossed and turned for a couple of hours. He couldn’t quiet his thoughts. Not even his journal was much of a comfort. He kept playing a game of ‘what if?’ with himself that was beginning to drive him mad.

He imagined if Ana had gone there alone. What a terrifying thought. As far as anyone would know that she simply disappeared. He imagined if anyone but him going with her, unable to draw as quickly as he could. Would they have survived the encounter? Then, there was the horror of his own human failings. Despite it already being in the past, if he hadn’t reacted the second he did Ana would have been shot. Just the idea of that was unforgivable. Even worse, she could have been killed.

It wouldn’t just be him who would be lost without her. The Liangs, the Johnsons, the O’Hogans… With the world they lived in, so full of hatred and prejudices, it was unlikely they’d have the opportunities Ana had given them elsewhere. There was also the most important question – who would have taken care of their Arthur Francisco? He didn’t know Arthur was the father he wondered about in his life. His closest kin lived all the way in Saint Denis. There was a chance if something happened, he’d never see that boy again.

A jolt of panic coursed through Arthur’s body like he was struck by lightning. He rushed out of his bedroom. The quiet and darkness of the house seemed to mock the state he was in, the boards of the stairs sounded like laughter to him as he ascended them. His reason came back when he was holding onto Ana’s doorknob. He was struck by how indecent he was, just in his union suit and about to burst into a woman’s chamber while she was undressed. They had seen plenty more of each other before, but it still didn’t feel proper. She was probably already asleep! Why couldn’t he just let it go?

He took a deep breath and steeled himself, softly entering the room. Like he expected, Ana was sleeping. She seemed to have been reading a book before drifting off. It still rested open on her breast. He sat down on the edge of her bed, carefully taking it putting on the table beside her. He took in her face in the flickering kerosene lamp. Despite what happened she was so serene. He wished desperately he was able to do the same, reaching over and stroking the waves of her hair that haloed her peaceful face. He leaned down and rested his forehead onto hers, taking her in.

Ana had known he was there the whole time. His presence engulfed her. Strong, protective, calming. Her eyes fluttered open.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“Yeah…” Arthur croaked, “Just… Checkin’ in on you.”

Of course. That was the closest he was going to get to him being vulnerable, and she accepted that much.

“I’m fine, for the most part.” Ana said, pulling the blankets away from the other side of her bed. She patted the mattress, “Come on.”

Arthur hesitated, “You sure…? I don’t… You don’t need to do that…”

Ana didn’t let him move from his place until he crawled over her and laid beside her. They both turned so they were facing each other. She smiled, running her thumb along the scars on his chin. He could almost melt at her touch.

“We need to tell the boy, Ana.” Arthur blurted out, “Sooner than later, after all this.”

Ana nodded, “I agree.”

They shifted closer together. Arthur wrapped his arms around Ana. Suddenly, things made sense. He felt like he was where he was supposed to be and he was tranquil enough to finally close his eyes.

[lacrymatoryao3]

I'm still alive, but for some reason Chapter 11 is being very difficult to get into words

[lacrymatoryao3]

First Time for Everything

One Shot Smut with Little Plot

Charles and Arthur awkwardly explore each other. Still working on my main fic, but also am on a Charthur jag.

1,557 Words (AO3 Link)

They needed somewhere private, but not in Saint Denis or even Rhodes. Those were still too close to Shady Belle and would risk the rest of the gang hearing rumors from locals. After hushed private discussions, they agreed to make a return to Valentine under the guise of having a robbery lead. Charles was the one to ride in first to get a room at the hotel. He wasn’t there during the shootout with Cornwall’s men, so the owner wouldn’t cause a commotion with him like he probably would with Arthur.

Arthur waited outside the town, on the side of an infrequently used trail that led to the Dakota River. He smoked two, maybe three cigarettes in a row to calm himself with his binoculars on the side of the hotel waiting for Charles’s sign from the window. As the sun set it arrived. From the upper floor in the room the owner always seemed to put people in, he saw the curtains be pulled back to block out the view of the street below.

He urged his horse forward and into Valentine. He pulled his hat down to make it harder to see his face, hoping no one remembered the great black Shire he was sitting upon. He hitched him beside Taima in front of the hotel and walked to the side of the building where there was an outside staircase to the top floor that avoided the lobby all together. Once he was in the hall the door to the room was on his immediate left. He took off his had and smoothed out his ash brown hair, taking a deep breath and lightly knocking on the door.

Charles answered with his long black hair still damp from his bath. No wonder he took so long. He put on fresher clothes, different from the weathered light blue with white dotted shirt he wore during the long and dusty ride, an outfit he started wearing when they arrived in the South. The one with the black trousers, a faded burgundy red overshirt that he only fastened at one bottom button, and a tanned leather vest that was embroidered with small colored beads in a tribal pattern in strips on both sides down the front.

Arthur just stood there, staring at the man in front of him as if he turned him into stone. He could only utter a strained and nervous “hey”.

“Hey,” Charles replied, a soft and equally clumsy smile breaking from his plump lips, “You, uh, should probably come in.”

Arthur nodded, hastily stepping over the threshold so Charles could close the door. He took off his hat and set it on a wooden chair next to a large standing mirror in the corner of the dimly lit room. His ragged satchel joined it, but not before he went into it and produced an unopened bottle of Kentucky Bourbon.

“I… Brought somethin’ for us.” Arthur said, waving the bottle to Charles.

Arthur opened the bottle and took a sip. The burn calmed the fluttering he had in his stomach, though his heart was still racing. He handed it to Charles, who also took one. They passed it back and forth until there was nothing left.

Charles set the bottle on the mantle of the fireplace. The flames caught his figure and created a blazing halo around his wide, strong, and athletic body. A golden glow washed over his dark skin. Despite having little belief in them, Arthur felt like he was looking upon an angel. His doubts possessed him like ghosts manifesting from the shadows. His heart began to race and get caught in his throat.

What if he embarrasses himself somehow? Neither of them knew what they were about to do. He had only been with women and he couldn’t even remember the last time – 5 years at least. In the world they lived in, two men lying together in the same way was seen as unnatural… An abomination to those religious type of fools.

Another thing was Arthur didn’t see himself anywhere near attractive. When he looked in the mirror all he saw was scars, blemishes where the sun he was almost always under kissed his skin, his crooked nose and chipped teeth from so many brawls, lines that set his scowls into the flesh, he still saw the stains of blood that he shed despite them being long washed away. If it came to that, would Charles even still be attracted to him when he shed his clothes?

It was only a moment that felt like an eternity, with both feeling apprehension and doubt, before Charles returned to him.

“You ready?” Charles asked, more bashfully than Arthur had ever heard from him.

“Yeah…” Arthur responded, “If you are, anyway. We don’t got to if you ain’t.”

“I think we’ll be okay.” Charles assured him, resting his large and shaky hands on Arthur’s waist. He pulled him closer, until their chests were crushed and they both could feel their pounding hearts.

Arthur nodded and breathed, “If you change your mind at any point durin’ this, tell me and we can stop…”

The air became thick as they gazed into each other’s eyes, their minds letting go of any preconceived notions they were taught by the world. Instinctually, their faces grew closer. At first their lips traced, savoring the sensation and heat of their breaths and bodies, until they pressed together. They tried to go slow, soft, building up the flame. It didn’t last very long. Arthur took Charles’s face in his hands, his thumb tracing the large scar that snaked along the right side of his face, kissing harder. He slipped his tongue into Charles’s mouth. He grasped Arthur tighter, greeting him with his own. Their faces burned with a hunger and passion neither of them expected to experience with another man.

With eager hands, Charles gently took hold of the kerchief around Arthur’s neck. He untied the knot and pulled it away, dropping it onto the floor. He unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his broad chest. Arthur let out a low grown as he felt Charles’s rough, calloused hands explore his hair covered flesh.

“I’ve always been jealous of you for this…” Charles muttered, circling the bare halo around Arthur’s nipples.

Arthur chuckled, his face and ears turning a bright red, “Ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

They became emboldened enough to fully undress and joined each other in the bed. In Arthur’s arms Charles felt so warm, his plush skin hiding the hard and well sculpted muscle underneath. It excited him more than he expected, his cock beginning to pulse as it swelled. He refrained from touching it, focusing on Charles instead. He pressed his mouth to an area behind his ear, working downward to his neck.

Charles never experienced such tenderness, such attentiveness to the most sensitive areas on his body. His breathing increased, Arthur’s coarse fingers messaging his breast. His head tilted back for a moment, his throat letting out a soft yet high pitched moan. The ache was becoming too intense to ignore. He reached down, taking hold of his own cock and started to slowly stroke it. He looked down and saw how hard they both were. Arthur’s was slightly longer, but incredibly thick. The skin was pulled taught away from head, which was almost purple at the edges. From the tip, a clear fluid wept in long tears that dropped onto the bedspread. Charles took one of Arthur’s hands, leading it downward to replace his own. In return he took Arthur’s. He looked deeply into his beautiful blue eyes, pupils blown in lust.

Charles filled Arthur’s hand. With each movement his shaft throbbed, eliciting a sigh or grunt from the man it was attached to. Christ… It was the most foreign and erotic thing Arthur encountered. It wasn’t enough. He took Charles’s ass and pulled him closer, until their sensitive members brushed. Arthur couldn’t close his fingers around them both. Their hips moved in rhythm, spreading Arthur’s precum until it covered their cocks and they slid against each other with ease.

Words became rendered useless. The only thing Arthur muttered between the two men’s moans was an often unused ‘fuck’.

Charles started to buck more in his grasp, panting with beads of sweat on his brow. His cock was constantly twitching, begging, desperate.

“Arthur…” Charles gasped, “Arthur, I’m going to-”

“Come for me, Charles. Let it go.” Arthur whispered. He was dangerously close too, fighting to keep it before he was ready.

A few more aggressive thrusts, then Charles tensed. His cock erupted, his seed splattering both of their stomachs. It was joined soon after by Arthur’s. He shook, riding the intensity of their orgasms until they were spent. Arthur let go, rolling onto his back and huffing to catch his breath.

They laid in a stupor for some time, paralyzed by blissful relief. Arthur got up to fetch the towel hanging off the washing stand. He wiped Charles off first before himself, throwing it across the room. He opened his arms and Charles rolled over to rest his head on Arthur’s chest, the two embracing.

“What did we tell Dutch we were goin’ out for?” Arthur asked drifting off into sleep.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Charles replied with a soft and tired laugh.

[lacrymatoryao3]

No one: Absolutely not a single soul:

Me: Trying Arthur down to a chair and teasing him until he's hard and the tip is leaking precum like a faucet. Then you sit on his lap with his cock inside you until he's an absolute mess and begging for friction. Or until he breaks the ropes and just primally fucks you.

[somanywords]

come play with me?

link <3

hiii friends i was procrastinating on writing so i decided to start a random tag game ;) no pressure tags for anyone else who's bored and also @voylitscope @wllipt @blurglesmurfklaine @smfstump @greyhavensking @tessabennet @hipsterdiva and @its-tortle!

[tessabennet]

I'm kinda late with this, but thanks for the tag 🥰

Tagging @mskatharinak @myladyofmercy @somethingsgottasaveyou and whoever else wants to do this ✌️

[somethingsgottasaveyou]

Thank you for the tag !!

Tagging @eyeofthemoose, @did-you-fall-for-a-shooting-star & eveyone else who wants to join!

[im-somewhere-in-the-stratosphere]

Had to do a little magic to get my current hair color BUT! Here I am!!

Tagging @unorthodoxsavvy @my-chemical-ratz @enbyhawk @fiddlersbone @instantlyimpossibletheorist @necromancy-savant @chilipowder9

[unorthodoxsavvy]

I’m so happy I can finally do earrings now!

Tagging @princess-pathetic-112898 and whoever else wants to do this!

[princess-pathetic-112898]

Tagging @yavannah @whencartoonsruletheworld @the-director @a-supernatural-writer @thewheelofimmorality @number-one-fleshbag @theslayerbrother @bluheaven-adw @sparklyprincessjewels and anyone who wants in!

[shadowmancer1215]

@pinkytoothlesso11 @alix-xer @lemon-drop8 @rise-of-arcadia

@aevykartandcosplay

[azura-the-underrated]

@fionamybeloved @malleepp @theonceandfuturetrollhunter @theslayerbrother @imaclotpole121

[that-one-clotpole-deactivated20]

That's me done! I'm not meant to be online, but I was just looking to see if someone (a loveable dumbass) was online or not. Now, for tagging:

@bluheaven-adw, @that-multi-fandom-hijabi, @moondust-on-the-hijabi, @inluvwithremuslupin, @rock-crusher, @albentelisa and @all my moots

NO PRESSURE OF COURSE!!! IF YOU'VE DONE THIS THEN DON'T MIND ME :D

[albentelisa]

Not the exact position of my mole, but well...

@tr3xinfinite, @sunniflutter, @jmeestella, @rosemaidenvixen

and everyone who wants to join. No pressure:)

[rosemaidenvixen]

Here I am!

Tagging @elizabethemerald @pinkytoothlesso11 @avirxy @eurazba @yellowmagicalgirl @earth-ambassador-jim and anyone else who wants to join in.

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Thanks for the tag!

I'll tag (participation is optional) @happi-tree, @marianasalvado200, @icyandthefrostbites, @regwishesshehadmagic, @megacristalixblue, and @rebelliouswhirlpool

[regwishesshehadmagic]

Thank you for the tag! :D

Tagging @foundynnel @justalittlerayofpitchblack @photo1030 @purplerose244 @angelkitten135 (no pressure)!

And of course, anyone else who wants to join!

[photo1030]

Ooo, thank you @regwishesshehadmagic These are always so fun. Ok here’s mine.

Tagging, if they are interested: @appalachiancowboy99 @lacrymatoryao3 @loveheartarthur @zanazirafanfic @namesaretomainstream @cassietrn @ultraporcelainpig

[lacrymatoryao3]

Tis I

[lacrymatoryao3]

Redemption Was Just The Beginning

Chapter 10: January, 1900 (Continued)

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9]

To the world, Arthur Morgan is dead. As he tries to face the idea, in a lush valley in Ambarino he comes face to face with a woman from his past, and they must reckon with an era long gone. Especially when she has secrets of her own.

(Rated explicit simply because eventually there’s smut in this.)

Tag: @photo1030

2,304 Words (AO3 Link)

Arthur was left stewing in it, his conflicting feelings. Tidying up the house, working in the stables, even taking a damn nap. He couldn’t get it out of his head, the way the Sheriff spoke about Ana, and how it reared a possessiveness of her he wasn’t proud of. All because she told him she still loved him. In hindsight he saw it in the things she did for him in the past. She had patched up his wounds, worried about his safety and if he would even come back from his dangerous adventures. She had been the one who washed and mended his clothes, who kept him company at night. He was just blind and too much of a coward to let himself keep it in the moment.

Mary was the one Arthur had intended to marry, but Ana was the closest thing he had came to a wife. It felt odd to realize, but it was completely true. That led Arthur to wonder something. How much did he mix Mary and Ana Maria in his memories? Who did he really miss the most? He still did love Mary as well, but it started to seem different than it used to. He did fail her, like every time before, and she was right to want to move on from him. He said a silent prayer, a very rare action, that wherever Mary went after the last letter she sent to him that she was happy. He hoped she would find someone who is honest and good to her as she deserved. It didn’t hurt anymore that it wasn’t going to be him who provided it. A lot of weight of was lifted off his shoulders.

And then there was still Ana. Arthur wanted to love, to be loved, but part of himself wanted to convince her he wasn’t worth it no matter how badly he needed or desired it. He was incapable of seeing what she saw in him. He wished so desperately he could see the good in himself everyone else seemed to think was there. He couldn’t get over the thought he was never worthy of it. After everything he’d done, surely there had to be some punishment. That all went away when he looked at her, when he thought about her. He couldn’t bring himself to break her heart again. That was an even worse sin to him than every murder and robbery he ever committed.

Self doubt and hatred aside, Arthur got what he wanted. He was a father, bumbling and lost about it like every man probably was. He had a woman who loved him. The question was how to hold onto it instead of running away.

“For now I am a prisoner… in Still-water Jail I lie…” Arthur sang quietly to himself riding on Delfina, humming the parts he had forgotten, “For which I will be sorry… Til my dyin’ day…”

By the time he got to the school the children had already been let out. He knew something was wrong when the sounds of the children weren’t the usual ones they tended to have as he he drew nearer. Some were scared, some excited, but all crowded around the commotion in the front yard. Surrounded by their peers was Arthur Francisco and an older boy circling each other before taking swings like they were grown men. The older boy was taller and looked like he did a lot of farm work. Arthur Francisco, impressively, was able to hold his own against him.

Perhaps he should have let them fight it out, but he couldn’t stand the sight of poor Miss Svensson doing everything she could to separate them. She had taken hard tumble when the older boy got Arthur Francisco on the ground, striking him in the stomach. He didn’t get very many in, Arthur Francisco got the upper hand and grabbed him tightly around the neck and using his knees to roll on top of him. He kept one hand there, pummeling the boy with his other fist. He just kept punching him in the face over and over.

Everything happened so fast Arthur hadn’t fully registered what was happening when he jumped off Delfina and ran to them. He snatched Arthur Francisco from behind, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist and yanking him away as the child flailed against him.

“DON’T YOU EVER TALK ABOUT HER LIKE THAT AGAIN, MILLER!” Arthur Francisco hissed at his enemy, “IF YOU DO I SWEAR I’LL KILL YOU!”

He could feel the rage emanating from him, his blue eyes burned like hellfire glaring at the older boy lying before him. Arthur finally and fully saw what Ana had repeatedly told him about their boy: himself. It was in that unmerciful and righteous anger.

“Like hell you will boy!” Arthur objected, putting Arthur Francisco firmly on his feet and grasping him hard on the shoulders, “You don’t talk to no one like that! You hear me?!”

The emotion hearing Arthur Francisco utter those words matched the boy’s own. The audience grew quiet and quickly dispersed, leaving only them, Miss Svensson who was standing and dusting herself off, and the Miller boy sitting defeated on bloody snow.

Arthur spun around, focusing some of his ire to him, “And you, what’s your excuse?! Ain’t you a little too old for this bullshit?!”

Miss Svensson shook her head and helped the Miller boy to his feet, “This happens frequently with Zachariah, I am afraid. Another letter for me to write now.”

“Well, don’t worry about this one.” Arthur huffed, gesturing to Arthur Francisco, “I’ll tell his mama and deal with what I can in the meantime.”

Miss Svensson took the Miller boy inside the school to tend to just injuries.

“What the hell happened anyway?” Arthur asked Arthur Francisco. It had to happen on his watch. As if the day hadn’t dragged on enough. He took a bandana out of his pocket, softly wiping Arthur Francisco’s face to see the damage. His lip was split and bleeding, bruises were already appearing around his left eye and jaw. Arthur had him open his mouth. No teeth where chipped, broken, or missing. He carefully prodded his stomach, checking for any signs of internal injury. The boy only told him it was sore and not painful. That too would be bruised for a while.

Arthur Francisco sighed, “Well… Jane was talking to some of the girls about the new baby. He went up to her and started asking her… not very nice things.”

Arthur nodded, “I can understand wantin’ to defend a girl, but don’t go around threatenin’. Because there comes a time where somebody takes you up on it, and you either become a coward or a killer. Or… you’re the one that gets killed. Me and your mama seen too many men go to an early grave for it. We want better for you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I just… Don’t understand why people are so hateful just because someone exists.”

Arthur put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “There’s a lot of them out there, I fear. You just got to be better than they are.”

Arthur gathered their horses. He put Arthur Francisco onto Josefina and tied her reins to the horn of Delfina’s saddle. He led them through town, stopping at the butcher’s to buy some steaks for dinner before setting off home. He kept a close eye on the boy, but besides the darkening contusions on his face he didn’t show any signs of anything else.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened to me…” Arthur Francisco calmly protested, holding the steaks while Arthur put the horses in the stable by himself.

“Yeah, I know, but I want to make sure.” Arthur replied, “If something happened, your mama wouldn’t be afraid to beat me senseless. Now, go inside and put those in the ice box. I’m going to go beck of Mrs. O’Hogan.”

Approaching it, on the outside the O’Hogan’s gingerbread styled home was silent. Once he was at the front door, Arthur could hear the chaos that 5 children in one place could bring. He took off one of his gloves and knocked loudly so it could be heard over the commotion. Mr. O’Hogan stepped out, disheveled and with a big smile on his face.

“I hope we got some good news there!” Arthur greeted.

Mr. O’Hogan clasped him tightly on the shoulder, “We sure fuckin’ do! Little girl, 6 pounds! Both o’ ‘em as healthy as can be! Sent a cable ta the archdiocese in Saint Denis, see if we can get a priest ta come up an’ baptize her.”

O’Hogan let Arthur go, pulling a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and lighting it with a match, “So, how about that row Little Arthur had? Heard he put a hell o’ a hurt on that Miller boy.”

“He’s pretty banged up his damn self. I have no idea how I’m going to tell Anie.” Arthur replied, “I just wanted to make sure everything went well with your wife and check how your daughter is doin’. That boy said some nasty things to her I was told.”

“Nothin’ about them Millers ain’t nasty!” O’Hogan replied, “Getting’ tired o’ it. I’m gonna start goin’ with ‘em ta school an’ back.”

“As long as you let our ladies come back.” Arthur said with a hint of humor, “Anyway, you have a good night, Owen. Glad you finally got your third girl! Let our ladies come home soon!”

Making dinner was a lot easier. Arthur knew how to cook a slab of meat, not in a pan but all it did was take slightly longer than holding it over a fire. The boy had enough experience in the kitchen to heat up a can of carrots. They kept a plate in the warming box for Ana. After cleaning up they spent time on the living room floor, drawing animals with the watercolors Arthur Francisco was given for Christmas. Arthur would sketch them out with a pencil, and the boy would paint them. Arthur shared the least traumatic stories about the things he saw over the years. They spent a lot of time talking.

Arthur got him ready for bed on time. He patted the boy lightly on the head, “Your mama should be home soon. She’ll probably check up on you because… Well, you know.”

“Yeah, she usually does.” Arthur Francisco said, “Good night, Arthur.”

Arthur got up and went to the door, “Good night, son.”

[*]-----[*]-----[*]-----[*]-----[*]

Ana closed the door quietly. She took off her jacket and shoes. Her hands went to her head as she tip toed into the kitchen, pulling out every pin until her hair was free. She was glad everything went well, and that it was over for another two or three years. The O’Hogans made it seem like this would be their last. With a couple like that, she wasn’t sure how long that vow would last.

Maybe if she had something like that, Ana might feel the same about it.

The counter was a note on a piece of torn paper. In Arthur’s fine handwriting was a line about leaving a plate from dinner for her. She hovered her hand over the stove. It was still quite hot. She opened the warming box to find it nearly as fresh as it was from the evening. He was always good when cooking a piece of meat.

She put it on the table, poured a glass of gin, and sat down to enjoy it. Arthur’s door creaked open. He stepped out and sat next to her.

“I hope I didn’t wake you.” Ana said.

Arthur shook his head, “No. I was actually up waitin’ for you. How’d everythin’ go?”

“Good! Of course, there’s always that time when things can be a little risky, but I think Rosaline and the baby will be just fine. How did it go with you and Arthur Francisco?”

“It went well… For the most part…” Arthur went quiet for a moment, “The boy got into a fight when school let out.”

Ana rolled her eyes, “I heard Stephen and Jane tell their father about it. How bad are his wounds this time?”

“He’s pretty banged up. He did worse to that Miller boy.”

“I’m not surprised.” Ana sighed, “Something has to be done about them, before things get worse. I have an idea. Maybe the father will consider it, if you’ll accompany me tomorrow.”

“I sure will. I’d like to see this hated man.”

After Ana ate she went up the stairs with Arthur following behind. She entered Arthur Francisco’s bedroom. The boy was sleeping soundly when she sat down at the edge of his bed, stroking his hair and scanning the bruises on his face. She sighed again and tucked his covers around him, kissing him on the temple before leaving.

Arthur waited for her in the hall. She patted him on the back, “Thank you for everything you did today. I imagine it wasn’t easy for you.”

He saw his chance. Before he his doubts got the better of him, he wrapped his arm around Ana’s waist and drew her to him. She let out a quiet yelp in surprise, but she didn’t pull away. He held her close to his body, her head coming to rest on his chest. He forgot how small she was compared to him, how wonderful it felt to have her pressed against him protectively in his arms. Her warmth filled a hole deep within his heart, one that had grown so accustomed to pain it almost burned. He never thought he’d feel like that again, where his heart raced, his face burned, his hands shook.

[lacrymatoryao3]

Hi, there!

I was checking to see if/when Chapter 10 of "Redemption Was Just the Beginning" was going to come out. So love that one...

It should be done soon! I've been having a hell of a writer's block and I'm getting out of it now!

[lacrymatoryao3]

Redemption Was Just The Beginning

Chapter 9: January, 1900

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8]

To the world, Arthur Morgan is dead. As he tries to face the idea, in a lush valley in Ambarino he comes face to face with a woman from his past, and they must reckon with an era long gone. Especially when she has secrets of her own.

(Rated explicit simply because eventually there’s smut in this.)

Tag: @photo1030

3,075 Words (AO3 Link)

Arthur wasn’t sure what time it was, or much of anything for that matter, when Ana burst into his bedroom late in the night… Or was it early morning? Either way, the dawn had not yet broke and Arthur was jerked out of a deep sleep confused and disoriented.

“What, what?! What’s the matter?!” He shouted bewildered, reaching in a crazed manner for a weapon like his old instincts dictated.

Ana was hurriedly dressed, with a piece of paper with instructions scrawled hastily on still drying ink, “Owen was just here. Rosaline is in labor and I need to go over there. I don’t know how long I’ll be so I need you to take care of the house and Arthur Francisco. I wrote everything down… And please, use the stove this time when you cook anything. I already made lunch for him, it’s in the ice box.”

Arthur did hear pounding, but he had assumed it was something in his dream. He grunted rubbed his face, finally checking the clock on the end table. A quarter past 3 in the morning. Why did babies need to come when everyone was sleeping?

He saw her off, trying to shake the tiredness by standing on the cold porch until he couldn’t see her anymore. It seemed every man besides Mr. O’Hogan was doing the same thing, Mrs. Liang followed Ana not too soon after, then Mrs. Johnson in the distance. At least they all knew how babies were born. The only woman who had any real idea to help poor Abigail was Susan, and she had never had any of her own.

Arthur did sleep a bit more, sitting in the living room after getting the fire going, until the clock started to chime at 5. He practiced his usual morning routine and went into the kitchen, grabbing any cook books he could find. Ana had plenty of little recipe cards, however she had naturally wrote them in Spanish. He sat down after getting the coffee going and scanned the table of contents in each book to see if he could find something easy enough for him to make without it becoming a disaster. So many of the measurements they listed made absolutely no sense to him. What the hell was a ‘scruple’? Or a ‘dram’? He only knew a ‘gill’ as something fish had. He found one simple enough that didn’t have any of those, with the instructions understandable for someone as stupid in a kitchen as he felt like he was. Poaching eggs seemed simple enough. Making toast was easy.

He filled a small pot with water, setting it on the stove when it was hot enough for it to boil. As he waited he put a pan on the neighboring burner and dropped a spoonful of butter into it, letting it melt and cover the bottom. He cut some slices of bread and slapped them in, turning them every few minutes until they were crispy and a light brown. He put them onto a plate and into the warming shelf above the stove. The water was bubbling and steaming by then. According to the recipe he just needed to crack the eggs into the water and let them go until they set. He just watched them float in the water, the whites wrapping themselves back around the yolk like an overly complicated soft boiled egg. He strained them out with an odd looking utensil that looked like a metal spider’s web on a stick. He put them with the toast in the warming box.

Arthur went up and knocked on the door to Arthur Francisco’s room. When he went inside the boy was still snug in his bed. He almost felt bad needing to wake him, gently tapping him on the back until he opened his eyes.

“Hey.” Arthur whispered, “Time to get up and around.”

Arthur Francisco looked at him, baffled that he was the one there to rouse him, “Where’s Mama?”

“She’s with Mrs. O’Hogan. Her baby’s comin’ soon.” Arthur replied, silently thanking Ana that she already took the boy’s clothes out, “It’s just you and me today.”

Arthur had no idea what he was even supposed to do other than make sure the boy got out of bed. He was sure he knew how to take care of himself, he didn’t need to be supervised. On top of it he felt awkward just standing there as the child washed and dressed. He did note what Ana was talking about with him being like Arthur. It was in the way he fastened buttons, especially on his shirt when he left the two top buttons open as if he didn’t like the collar close around his neck. He moved his arms around to make sure his suspenders weren’t tight sitting on his shoulders. Arthur could really put a word on how it made him feel… The closest was a melancholic happiness, if that even made sense.

Even more like Arthur was he didn’t speak much in the morning. He mutely followed Arthur to the kitchen and sat down in his seat.

“Now, don’t expect anythin’ fancy like your mama can make.” Arthur said to him while taking out the poached eggs and the toast, sprinkling the eggs with some pepper. He absentmindedly poured the boy his own cup of coffee, before questioning if that was something Ana let him drink. He didn’t see any wrong in it. He was drinking coffee that young… Then again, he was smoking and drinking a few years later. None of it killed him, so one time for the kid wouldn’t hurt.

Arthur Francisco didn’t complain. His first few tastes of the drink gave him a puzzled look on his face, but he enjoyed the meal more than Arthur expected him to. Both ate in similar ways. They broke open the eggs with their forks so the yolk would bleed over the toast and dipped up the excess on the plate with the crusts.

In the stable the boy tended to his own horse, while Arthur helped the throng of other children. He got onto her on his own, he was still light enough to use only his arms to hoist him up into the saddle. Damn, Arthur wished he could still do that.

The youngest O’Hogan girl, Arthur believed she was called was Jane or something, went up to Arthur Francisco and asked if she could ride with him. He instantly and eagerly agreed. Arthur went over and helped her onto the back of Josefina, putting her legs on the same side so she didn’t wrinkle up her skirt.

Making their way through town more children joined. They sure did talk a lot, and all at once. Arthur found it to be a little too much noise for so early in the morning, it was like the girls giggling over coffee but tenfold. He tired to tune most of it out, staying focused on what was ahead and making sure the group didn’t run into each other’s horses or anyone in the street.

It was hard to believe the schoolhouse fit so many children. It looked like a two room shack at most with a covered bell tower and only one teacher standing on the porch to greet the pupils. Arthur assumed she was the other Svensson sister Ana had told him about.

He ushered and helped the children put their horses in the covered paddock in the yard. He made sure they had everything they needed, especially Arthur Francisco.

“All right.” Arthur said to him, “I’m heading off. If I’m back before the day ends I’ll come meet you. If not make sure everyone gets home safe.”

Arthur Francisco nodded, “Yes, sir. See you later.”

Arthur lit a cigarette watching everyone else go inside out of the elements. He sighed, turning Delfina to the direction of the sheriff’s office and jail.

[*]-----[*]-----[*]-----[*]-----[*]

Mrs. O’Hogan laid in her bed that was covered by old rags. She let in sharp breaths and slowly blew them out, making attempts to regulate the pain ever contraction brought to her. Ana and the rest of the women – including Bridget, the O’Hogans’ soon to be 16 year old daughter – did what they could to keep her comfortable as they waited for Dr. Anderson and the local midwife, an older woman the town mothers affectionately called Nurse Henry.

The air when a baby was expected was a heavy and bittersweet one, with so many potentials that overwhelmed the mind if thought about too deeply. There was excitement, the coming of a new life and a sore buy joyous mother. There was fear, no matter what birth was a dangerous affair for both. Ana had Arthur Francisco there, as did Mrs. Liang with her youngest son Caihong, and Mrs. O’Hogan herself had Jane and Adam and Nicolas in the same bed in the same house with no major or worrying troubles. With all the religious and superstitious trinkets from different backgrounds surrounding her, there was high hopes the good luck would continue.

They tried to keep the mood light, if only for Bridget’s sake. The young woman was more nervous about the ordeal than her mother was. Mrs. O’Hogan occasionally muttered that she hoped the doctor and nurse would make it before the baby did. Mrs. Liang and Mrs. Johnson agreed, with Mrs. Johnson remarking her second son Emmanuel nearly came out as soon as her labor started.

Dr. Anderson and Nurse Henry arrived just shy of 4 in the morning. Her jovial nature relaxed some of the anxiety, opening her little bag and getting right to work. Dr. Anderson was mostly there in case pain relief was needed or the birth would need to become a surgical one. She did offer Mrs. O’Hogan something called Ether, a way to reduce the discomfort, that Mrs. O’Hogan waved off with a comment that she went through it 5 other times without it and she doubted it would be any different the current time.

Then, 3 hours went by…

They kept Mrs. O’Hogan relaxed, letting her rest in any position that she deemed comfortable. They gave her plenty of juice to drink. Every woman in the room took turns walking around with her several times. In between each action to help things get going Nurse Henry would look underneath Mrs. O’Hogan’s shift to check how her dilation.

The sunlight broke and brightened the room by the time the baby was ready. Mrs. O’Hogan sat at the edge of the bed, leaning back so the nurse and doctor could kneel below her with blankets with Bridget behind them to see what it all entailed. Ana messaged Mrs. O’Hogan’s back as she pushed, Mrs. Johnson holding her hand, and Mrs. Liang dabbing her face with a cool damp cloth.

The shrill cry of a baby was a delight to everyone’s ears. Nurse Henry wrapped the baby quickly and took it closer to the furnace to clean them and keep them warm.

The nurse evaluated the baby, “You got yourself another healthy baby girl, ma’am!”

“Oh thanks be to God!” Mrs. O’Hogan cried in relief.

Once the afterbirth passed the women helped Mrs. O’Hogan affix a washable sanitary belt between her legs for any bleeding then removed the rags to tuck her into bed. The nurse gave her the tightly swaddled baby girl. Mrs. O’Hogan didn’t need instruction on what to do. Everyone watched, quietly taking in the small creature who latched onto her mother’s breast.

Ana didn’t want the experience to be sullied for herself. She smiled away the envy. Her reflection on being pregnant wasn’t the most positive one, but it seemed completely worth it once she held her son years ago. Growing up she was taught she would have several children, like every woman around her in Mexico did. Yet there was only one.

The baby was put into her cradle, rocked until she fell asleep. Mrs. O’Hogan took the chance to do the same. The lull was a welcome one for everybody. Once Dr. Anderson and Nurse Henry departed, the rest of the women returned to their stations in the room, collapsing and closing their own eyes.

[*]-----[*]-----[*]-----[*]-----[*]

The sheriff’s office looked like most others in every backwater town Arthur had found himself in, a wooden built and sided construction with one half heavy impenetrable stones where the cells were. He hitched Delfina to the side of it. He didn’t know what was compelling him to walk up to the door. He didn’t like nor trust the law in any capacity any more than he did. He didn’t need the money. That was the only thing that made him take the bounties before. He knew how easily, despite being considered dead, how it could be him running from these vultures again. What was it? To get the rush he once savored? To prove to some unseen judge he was a changed man?

He opened the door, interrupting whatever conversation Sheriff Strange was having with the three. bored looking deputies.

“Of course, if we ever get that goddamn rail line they’ve been promising-… Oh! Good morning Mr. Callahan.”

Arthur tipped his hat, “Sheriff.”

“Taking me up on bounties?”

Arthur nodded.

Sheriff Strange handed him a piece of paper. It wasn’t exactly what Arthur was expecting, just a scrawled note with a name, their crime, description of the person, their address, and the cost to turn them in alive.

“Now he isn’t the most high profile one we got around here, but how you handle him is how you earn my blessing.” The Sheriff explained, “Earl Harris is just your run of the mill card cheat. He’s mostly a thorn in my side, coming in every few months for the same offense. Check the saloon first. He’ll go easy unless he’s had liquor, but he’ll talk your ear off.”

The goal: find some old card shark and take him back to the jail. Probably just to spend whatever time he owes and get released to start it all over again. $2.50 wasn’t anything to sneeze at anyway. He left the Sheriff and his lethargic seeming deputies. Closing the door Arthur heard him chide them, for one of them to whine ‘Oh come on, Pa!’ in response.

He took a bundle of rope from one of Delfina’s saddle bags, attaching it to his belt just in case. He left her at the hitching post, the saloon was a convenient walk down the street. Arthur leaned against a support post, making himself look like another patron who had drunk until the morning. He nonchalantly looked into the large windows.

The card table was in the middle of the room, always within eye shot of the bar. The saloon was mostly empty except for a few stragglers from the night before, but there was a large group looking like they were playing a round of poker. He studied them. One that had his back to him seemed to fit who he was sent to search for – thin build, ill fitting denim overalls, long stringy white hair and from his vantage point what looked to be a matching beard, a tattered wide brimmed straw hat. He sort of reminded Arthur of Uncle if he had skipped several meals and was far more energetic.

Arthur pushed through the double swinging half doors and walked up to the table to his potential target, “Excuse me, partner. Are you Earl Harris?”

“Yeah! What’s it to ya?” The man replied, turning in his chair to Arthur.

“You think we could step outside? I have some business with you to speak about.”

Earl Harris excused himself to the other players. As he set the cards in his hand onto the table, a bundle of other cards slipped out of his sleeve for everyone to see. There was the evidence Arthur needed. It was so easy it was almost insulting.

One of the men against Earl Harris slammed threw his hand to the table, “You son of a bitch!”

Arthur swiftly led Harris out of the saloon as the men rose, taking off their jackets and rolling up their sleeves. The fight wouldn’t have been a fair one for them, Arthur was a head taller and twice their sizes, but the Sheriff wanted Harris alive and in all probability unbeaten.

“What’s this all about?!” Harris mumbled stumbling down the stairs at Arthur’s hand on his shoulder’s urging.

“Well, I’m afraid Mr. Harris you’re a wanted man.” Arthur explained, “You’re going to have to come with me to see Sheriff Strange and I’m hopin’ we could do this like gentlemen.”

Harris blinked and gave a mostly toothless grin to him, “Aw hell! Why didn’t ya just say so?”

The short walk felt like an eternity. The Sheriff wasn’t kidding about how incessant Earl Harris could talk. Arthur was audience to his entire life story and whatever detour he decided to focus upon before returning to the point. He had no concern about his impending incarceration. In fact, Arthur started to suspect he actually liked it.

Walking by Harris gave Delfina a hard pat on her rump, “Fine horse ya got here! Got the goddamn Gardener brand! Ya must be mighty close to that lady!”

“That’s no one’s concern but my own.” Arthur replied.

Harris didn’t take the hint, “Bout time she got herself a real man! That ol’ husband of hers weren’t much of one, if ya catch my drift!”

Arthur grabbed him buy the shoulder, his patience wearing thin, leading him into the Sheriff’s office. Harris gave a jovial greeting to them. He instructed Arthur what his preferred cell was. He gladly shoved him into it, getting as much distance from Harris as possible or he was at risk of getting Arthur’s gun handle across the head so he’d be quiet for a while.

“Told you he was conversationalist.” Sheriff Strange chuckled seeing the exhausted expression on Arthur’s face. He put the money he was owned on the desk. Arthur took it and made a gesture of thanks and goodbye.

“Tell Mrs. Gardener I said hello!” The Sheriff shouted after him, “Treat her right! She’s a fine, fine woman!”

Arthur took a deep breath to calm himself when riding away on Delfina. It made his skin crawl, not liking that any more than he did at the party.

[lacrymatoryao3]

I have a dumb as fuck idea in this current fic where Arthur just spends a day in the kid's classroom and just having a bunch of 8-10 year olds helping him with the courses but I have 0 idea where that would fit so expect a one shot whenever I get this finished.