#implied vandermorgan

[storytellering]

Young Arthur, waiting on orders.

[rott3nlamb]

morston just hurts sooooo good if they never even fucked each other and the only bit of intimacy they’ve ever shared together is arthur locking eyes with john through the cut linen of dutch’s tent — john’s eyes are hollow, wet with tears and red with a young boy’s rage, his jaw is slack, bleeding strangled hymns, his darkly shining hair is splayed over the cot, forms a twisted halo around his skull — arthur feels sick, wants to gag, almost does, wants to run and he almost does that, too, but he can’t bear to leave john alone like this, wonders how many times he’s been alone like this — with dutch — and when dutch hunches forward to run his hand over john’s chest and grasp at his throat his wide frame shadows john, swallows him all up until arthur can only see dark shimmering eyes peering up at him over dutch’s shoulder, refusing to look away and it all makes him feel deathly ill, stomach twisting, the stench of rot in his nose and when john cries and cries and dutch groans, hitches himself flat to john and holds fast there, lips twitching into a smirk, heaving with pride, arthur trembles with anger — fists clenched at his sides, fingers twitching because he can’t decide whether he wants to beat dutch to a bloody mess of fractured bone and mush or fire into him until his body is so full of holes that’s it’s nearly shredded in half — but he just keeps watching and he hates himself for it, and when dutch finally lifts off the boy and moves across the tent and john stays there, torn and shivering, glistening with sweat and tears and perversion, warmth, not hate, not fear, fucking warmth returns to his eyes that never once strayed from arthur’s.

[amrass]

Excited for Barbwired Tumbleweed! For your consideration: (1) Dutch/Arthur, grooming; snippets from a real fucked up relationship. Bonus points for the cycle continuing with John and/or Jack. (2) Sadie/Kieran, hate sex/noncon. (3) Charles/Molly, sex as self-harm.

I hope your excitement remains, anon 😈 Ah, I like your ideas!

I went with your first suggestion, and I've called the piece Cydonian Apples, because ofc there must be a reference to Ancient Greek practises when the theme is grooming. (Heed the tags. All characters are 16/17 in the fic itself, but stuff is implied, and depending on your country this can be underage and/or non-con.) I went for the most bonus points possible, so there is one snippet of Dutch/Arthur, one of Arthur/John, and a short one with ambiguous John & Jack.

Some more thoughts on the requests after the cut (I liked thinking about them! Warning for Amras going full Pennywise mode) ...

The first request was a bit out of my comfort zone, verging on the "innocence" I dislike writing (but can enjoy reading), buuut I adore challenges so I guess I tried to create a disquiet mixed with a calming quiet, to create fucked-up-ness through the contrast. I'm kind of writing blind, so I don't know if I succeeded. Anyway everyone please go read My Country Has No Borders, the best Vandermorgan fanfic of all time in my humble opinion, the writer nails ambivalence.

For the Sadie/Kieran one, I recommend my friend Purl's Adrenaline Rush, because I'd probably write something similar to that fic, even with Kieran, as I write him rougher than the common fanon interpretation. I would also make Sadie piss on him at the end. And then another gang member (someone who dislikes O'Driscolls) would find him when he's lying there covered in filth. "Aw, did I come too late? I was hoping for a show, but ... I guess a fuck is just as good."

For the third one with Charles/Molly, aaahhhh, I know exactly how I'd write that one, but it's too angsty for me 💀 I'd make the story happen in Clemens Point or Shady Belle after a party, during a storm, both of them drunk and heartsore. Molly seeks out Charles because she thinks he has a big penis that she will use to punish herself, then she's so disappointed (also in herself) because he's average sized. But when she realizes he's a virgin, she convinces him anal sex is normal without lube or any kind of prep, and gets her self-harm that way, but harms him in the process .......... Ensue a lot of pain, confusion and guilt. I see no way out of this but angst galore. Sometimes I want to write really fucked up ideas and wish I could just steal an angst writer to keep in my pocket, dictating that stuff, while I revel in the horror.

Someone else can try their hand, if they want to!

Thanks for reading 🤡

[drkocnsummoning]

I’m gonna have a stroke I do not care about shipping rules. Vandermorgan is fucking weird. Like it really implies grooming how can u not fucks not see it

[jackiesieks]

Jackie Thoughts

So, more VanderMorgan discord is upon us. I know, shocking.

But I thought I'd take this opportunity to share a thought with everyone, courtesy of my friend that I won't tag because I want everyone to see it.

If Arthur had been a woman, I guarantee the "incest" thoughts wouldn't exist to such a high degree. In fact, we've seen what happens when a woman is "taken in" by an older, charismatic man and he falls in love with her. It's considered romantic. Countless books, movies, and television shows exist with this trope.

Yet with Arthur it's incest.

Which makes me wonder... Why?

There are problems in every ship. VanderMatthews, for example, is implying two men can't just be really good friends without it being a relationship, yet ignoring the fact that Dutch loved Annabelle, and Hosea loved Bessie whole heartedly.

Morbell, you're shipping Arthur and a man who kills him if you play low honor. A man who beats him within an inch of his life if you play high honor.

Sadie and Arthur, you're ignoring the fact that she states "I found true love once and I know I'll never find that again so I don't want anyone else." And implying they cannot be friends without wanting to fuck.

But VanderMorgan? Oh, that's incest and therefore we must hate it.

We must go out of our way to start arguments then claim to be bullied when the original poster retaliated.

We must go out of our way to send as much hate as we can. Because we don't like it.

Because Arthur is a man.

So. I'm here to propose a new idea.

If you don't like something, ignore it. I see a lot of things I don't like, spot many problems in ships that I don't agree with, but you know what? Everyone is having fun, and these are fictional characters at the end of the day. If you don't like it, just scroll past, or block the tag of whatever ship bothers you and move on with your life. It really is that simple.

You want to fight for a cause you believe in? Why not put that dedication towards something that matters. Feed the poor, volunteer for Habitats for Humanity, volunteer at a Wildlife Sanctuary. Volunteer at a hospital, help raise money for disease research.

Attacking people just because they have a ship you don't like? That's just silly.

Let us remember that behind these screens we are people, we do have feelings. Words can affect said people. You may walk away feeling fine, or proud, but you've no idea the impact you had on that person. Why not aim to make a person feel better, or don't come into their life at all, rather than knocking them down?

At the end of the day, we all love Red Dead Redemption. Our love for it brought us into the fandom. Our love for it will continue to help it grow. The more love we show for it, and the more welcoming we are, the more Rockstar sees that we want, and need, more content.

But making people feel unwelcome and unwanted, or afraid to like something? They'll walk from the game a lot faster. And if Rockstar doesn't see a profitable audience, they will not release more content. It is that simple. It's business.

So let's remember WHY we are here. Let's remember WHY we love this game. Let us remember we ARE humans. And let's be kind.

[afinenightofdebauchery]

my gross fics so far

--

debauchery

Ship: Vandermorgan

Warnings: dubcon

Summary: Arthur is drunk, sad and willing. Dutch doesn't let the opportunity to go to waste.

soft breaths, beating heart

Ship: VandermorganWarnings: rape, strangulation, abusive relationship

Summary: 

He should hit Dutch, should push him off and get up on his feet again but he can’t find it in himself to raise his hand against the man that raised him, Dutch already believes him to be disloyal. Hurting him? Well, that would just be a nail in the coffin.And again, he should have known that this was something Dutch wanted when called him into the tent. He lead him on, in a way he was just as much at fault as Dutch.

Dinner and diatribes

Ship: Vandermorgan

Warnings: PWP

Summary: 

Dutch and Arthur shares an intimate moment in Saint Denis.In other words, they fuck after the Mayors party, weeks before it all goes to hell. Want

Ship: Vandermorgan, Arthur/OC

Warnings: Referenced dubious consent, emotional abuse

Summary: 

Arthur is tired of feeling alone. 

Going in blind

Ship: Arthur/OMC

Warnings: Implied rape, implied forced prostitution

Summary: John thinks about the con that changed Arthur.

Morning dew

Ship: Arthur/Dutch

Warnings: Spoilers for the end, implied torture

Summary: Dutch watches Arthur sleep. Arthur catches him in the act.They share a tender moment, weeks before the end.

[redmodernredemption]

Haunted

Characters: Sean, Hosea, mentions of Karen and Bessie

Pairing(s): Implied Sean x Karen, mentioned Hosea x Bessie

Word Count: 1244

Warnings: VERY SAD! TURN BACK NOW!

A/N: I don’t know why I do this, but I do. I do it every time. Grab the tissues and get ready to run.

(Gif is not mine, belongs to @abigaillmarston)

Sean sat at the table, a bottle in one hand, his other hand scratching at the splintering wood. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He wasn’t supposed to be alone. They were never exclusive, but he had been trying to work up the courage to ask her to move to that level. Even if he wasn’t the man of her dreams, she was the woman of his.

But he’d never get the chance now.

“Sean,” Hosea called softly, settling on the stool across the table. “What’s on your mind, son? Better to talk than try and drown it.” The red head sighed and took a long swig.

“I was supposed to go with Bill and Micah and Arthur,” he began. “But I was so hungover, I couldn’ shoot straight. Karen said she’d handle it, that she’d convince them Grays that she could do the job.” His lip began to tremble. “I knew she could. Was no question about it. She’s the toughest woman in camp aside from Grimshaw.”

“But no one could have known that the Grays were on to us.”

Sean closed his eyes tightly. Crying was weakness. At least to these men it was. His da always made time for emotions, but here, there was never time. Even the women had to hold it in and deal with their emotions in private. And this was Hosea, for fucks sake. He couldn’t let the man see how badly he was hurting.

“You were sweet on her,” Hosea pointed out. “We could all see it. She hung the moon and stars for you. And she was sweet on you, in her own way.”

“It should ‘ave been me,” Sean finally blurted, his tear-filled eyes meeting the older man’s gaze. “I should ‘ave been on that job. Not her. It should be me buried in that field, not her. I was born into this life. I knew from the time I was a wee child that I would die in this life. She wasn’t. She still had the chance to get out.” Hosea shook his head.

“She’d have fallen completely into the bottle, and you’re at risk of doing just that,” he argued gently. “And I don’t blame you. After Bessie died, I spent a year in the bottle. Didn’t really do me any good, but that didn’t stop me. And I know I might not be able to stop you, but I have to try.”

Sean had to look away again. The strongest man he knew aside from his own father, and yet here he was, admitting that even he had his weak moments.

“There’s no weakness in mourning, son. There’s no shame in missing someone. Karen was your Bessie, anyone could see that. Don’t hold all that pain inside. It’ll wind up killing you, Sean.”

He closed his eyes again, a few tears sliding down his face. He didn’t want to completely break down. Not in camp. Not with everyone watching. He just wanted to go set up camp somewhere else, alone, and drink the pain away.

“Sean, I know what you’re thinking. Come on. Let’s you and I go ride for a bit.”

They had been riding for hours. He wasn’t even really sure if they were still in Lemoyne anymore. And he wasn’t sure how they got where they were aside from on horseback. But Hosea’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“It’s getting late, Sean,” the older man pointed out. “Why don’t you get us a rabbit or two? I know you’re good with those throwing knives.”

Sean nodded, keeping his eyes peeled as he pulled out one of the knives. He felt so… disconnected. As if he was simply going through the motions. Nothing felt real. It almost felt like a bad dream. He was vaguely aware of the cold, sharp steel in his fingers, of the beast beneath him breathing as they rode slowly.

He spotted a rabbit, and raised his hand, ready to send the knife into the small critter’s skull.

But then he stopped. That rabbit was as oblivious to him as Karen was to the gunman. It wasn’t even aware that it was being hunted. Had not a clue that it was about to die. His hand started shaking, and his heart raced as he stared at the defenseless animal.

He couldn’t do it.

“Sean,” Hosea called. “Sean, it’s okay. It’s just a rabbit.” The Irishman lowered his hand, his eyes filling with tears again.

“It’s not even aware we’re ‘ere,” he muttered. “It’s just goin’ about life like nothing’s wrong. I... I can’t. I can’t, Hosea. All I see is my Karen, an’… an’…”

“And we’re the only ones up here. It’s okay to weep. It’s okay to mourn. No one else has to know. Just let yourself feel, son.”

He closed his eyes tightly, and slowly began to let the emotion overtake him. She was really gone. He would never hear her voice again. Or see her smile. She’d never call him a fool in that beautiful laughing voice she had. His heart shattered, and his whole body shook with each sob.

Every person he ever loved completely was gone, and Karen’s death was his fault.

“There, there. Just let it out, Sean. I know it hurts. Trust me. But holding it in is worse.”

“How,” Sean forced out, meeting Hosea’s eyes. “How can I jus’ keep going? How do you keep going?’

He felt so empty. So alone. The guilt was overwhelming, and he wasn’t sure if he could even face going back to camp. Knowing that she wouldn’t be there, knowing that he would wake up alone, it made his chest ache.

“You take it one breath at a time, even when you feel like you’re suffocating. Then you take it one hour at a time, no matter how long that hour feels. And then one day. And one week. Until you eventually find that you can live with the pain. You’ll still have days that are harder than others. But you’ve always got a family around you, Sean. You’ve always got the gang. And you’ll never forget her, I know you won’t.”

He wiped away the tears, nodding slowly.

“I want her horse,” he pleaded. “I know it’s stupid an’ I’m a fool. I’ll sell mine if I must, but jus’ let me ‘ave something of hers.” Hosea’s hand gently gripped his arm.

“That is not stupid, son,” he soothed. “It’s perfectly reasonable to want to keep something of hers.”

“I jus’… I feel like it’s my fault. I should ‘ave been there. An’ all I can see is… is…” He bit his lip and looked away. He shouldn’t have insisted on seeing her one last time. But he didn’t believe Micah. Who would have? And now, all he could see was her golden hair matted with blood.

“It’s not your fault, Sean. You didn’t know. I didn’t know. We didn’t know. Not until it was too late. I won’t say that you should feel lucky to be alive, because you may never feel lucky. But do not blame yourself for something beyond your control. It won’t bring her back.”

He nodded, staring at the ground.

“You aren’t alone in this. You’re never alone. You’ve got me. And Dutch. There’s plenty of us who understand, or at least will try to understand. Let’s set up camp, and get you through this. I can only afford to bury one child today.”

@nsfwredead @postholdblackhole @weathur @vandermorgan