I honestly kinda hate how this turned out but sometimes we have pieces we’re not so proud of, that’s ok! I wanted to share anyways because I do like how the lighting turned out hahah
Abigail paces, trying to decide whether she ought to be angry or worried. She knows it’s both, but she doesn’t know what to do. The two emotions rear their ugly heads directly into her chest, and she hates how familiar it feels.
John is missing, has been for a whole day, and Beecher’s Hope is near silent. She had sent Uncle to search for him, but he had no luck. She keeps a brave face on for Jack like she always does, but he’s a smart boy. He worries, too. He knows what his father is like.
Stepping forward, she peers into the small crack through to Jack’s room, thankfully finding him asleep. Finally, after hours, he’d put down that book and rested his eyes. She won’t be sleeping, but that doesn’t mean Jack should share that same fate.
Unable to stand still, Abigail huffs softly and walks back to the living room, watching the moon try its best to peek through the cloudy night sky. She isn’t sure how long she stares out the window until she hears very faint hooves in the distance. Anger wins the fight against worry, then, as she hikes up her dress and storms out to the porch.
She watches John dismount his horse, hitching her much slower than he usually does. He whispers something to her and turns around, walking somewhat wobbly toward the house. The closer he gets, the more an uneasy feeling settles in Abigail’s stomach.
“Where on Earth have you been? What happened to you?” she asks, though it doesn’t have quite nearly the bite she wants it to, watching him hold onto the banister for support as he ascends the stairs to meet her.
“Sorry,” is all he can manage in the moment, and she gives him a once-over; thankfully, no wounds, just bloodshot eyes and sagged shoulders, looking the worst she’s seen him since he got attacked by wolves.
Some of the fire returns to her voice. “Sorry ain’t enough, John Marston!” She steps closer, resisting the urge to shove him. “You can’t just go off somewhere without tellin’ me! I thought you was dead or worse!”
Guilt settles into his half-lidded eyes. “I know.”
Her fire has nowhere to go. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him like this before. Faltering, she takes a step back. “Alright, well…You gonna tell me what happened or not?” John tries to step forward, but his knees shake and she rushes forward to prop him up by the chest and shoulders, their faces inches away from each other. She can see, even in the dark, how deep the shadows under his eyes are. She can’t help but murmur, “Jesus, John…”
Perhaps, if it were up to him, he’d just lay down on the porch and stay there for a few days. She decides it isn’t up to him, and takes one of his arms to help him inside.
It’s somewhat of a struggle, but eventually she gets him to sit on the edge of their bed. While she’s working on taking off his belt and placing his hat on the nightstand, he mumbles, words slurring together. “Haven’t been sleepin’. Went to go visit Arthur’s grave.”
Abigail pauses, staring down at her hands for a moment. Charles had buried him a long time ago. She finishes taking off his shoes and stands up, hands on hips. “Why?”
“Been a year since all that,” he answers, slowly lifting his clouded gaze to hers. “Keep havin’ dreams about him, so I ain’t been sleepin’.”
Her heart thrums painfully. She misses him, too.
“Oh, John,” she sighs, wondering how long he’d gone without any rest, and steps forward to cup his face in her hands. He seems to melt into them. “He’d be happy, y’know. To see us here.”
His eyes flutter closed, and she can’t tell if those words comforted him or made it worse. She pulls back, stepping around to climb into bed, pulling him to lay down with her. He buries his face in her chest and she runs her fingers through his hair.
“Sleep, John.”
It doesn’t take much for him to relax. She stays awake for a few hours, watching over him, shooting occasional glances toward the hat that used to belong to Arthur.
As she drifts, she hopes that someday, the brothers will be reunited.
imagining arthur taking jack into valentine and when they see a wanted poster for john, they rip it down and replace it with a chalk drawing of a wanted poster that jack made
the ‘r’ in marston is backward. the drawing of john has huge bushy eyebrows and a hat that takes up most of the page. the reward is $999999
Lyle Morgan
This was a unfinished Comic I did as a collab with @ancient-me. She did the continuation after this. I just got lazy on cleaning it up haha.
But it's basically the last moment Arthur has with his dad. He mentions that his dad was shit but for some reason he still kept his hat. So I assume this moment became a core memory for Arthur.
rdr2 modern au where 12 year old john silently appears in arthur’s doorway, stares him down for a solid 20 seconds, then flips off the lights and runs away
Arthur lit a cigarette, taking a very slow drag from it. He watched the smoke leave his lips on an exhale, watching it drift upward into the sky littered with stars. Being the only one on watch wasn’t so bad. It was kind of nice to be immersed in the quiet that night brought.
He wasn’t sure how long he was sitting there before he began to hear quiet, labored breathing. Tossing the cigarette butt, Arthur stood up, carefully approaching the sound. He was surprised to find it coming from Charles, who lay on his side under his tent. His body twitched, his face was scrunched up, and Arthur couldn’t tell if it was pain, or fear, or both on his face. The expression truly didn’t suit Charles. His heart sunk.
Charles was the best person he knew. Charles didn’t deserve to be in pain. Charles deserved happiness more than any of them.
Carefully, he crouched by his side, placing a gentle hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Charles,” he said softly, but the man didn’t stir, and Arthur wondered when the last time he’d gotten any sleep was. Perhaps he shouldn’t wake him. Maybe he should try doing what Mary used to do for him.
Moving to sit crosslegged, he kept a gentle hand on Charles’ shoulder and continued speaking as softly as he could. “You’re safe, you’re with me. You ain’t gotta worry. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.”
He didn’t know what Charles would dream about - he barely spoke about his past before joining the gang - but he knew he’d been on his own for a long time. He didn’t have to be alone anymore.
His face twitched a little, as if able to hear Arthur’s words, so he continued. “I’m real glad I met you, Charles. Things haven’t been easy recently, but they’re better ‘cause you’re here.” The words surprised even himself, but Charles seemed to relax by the second, so he continued. “You’re a good man, y’know. Think you might be the only good one out of all of us, and I don’t see that ever changin’. So you need to rest. I’m right here with you while you do.”
Arthur watched in awe as Charles’ face went completely slack, his breaths evening out, whatever plaguing him dissipating like smoke. Like this, he looked the most at peace he’d ever seen him. Without even thinking, Arthur removed his hand from his shoulder and instead brushed some of the wisps of hair away from his face. He wasn’t sure how long he just sat there, telling himself he’d move once he was sure Charles was okay, but staying much longer than that.
Eventually, he gently pulled a blanket over him and stood up, somewhat wobbly as he returned to the spot where he was supposed to be keeping watch. He reflected on all the words that had just poured out of him without even thinking about it, not sure if he was more surprised about the fact he said them or the fact that they were all true.
Maybe someday, he’d be able to tell Charles all of those things when he was awake.
vaporwave
stormborns
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
