#blessed are the peacemakers

[arthursfuckinghat]

Nothing can describe the way my heart shattered when Arthur asked if Dutch was going to go look for him after he was kidnapped by Colm in chapter 3- all he got was a "Oh of course, son" in the most pitiful, unassured tone of voice I'd ever heard from Dutch.

The three of them had set up a meeting point at "the fork in the road" if the O'Driscoll parlay went south, Arthur seemingly disappeared and didn't return for another day or so until he was physically crawling trying to get back to camp, and still nobody questioned where he was?

Yes, it's typical for Arthur to wander and find his own way home after missions, but the key word is AFTER. Arthur disappeared DURING the meeting and didn't regroup at the designated rendezvous point AFTERWARDS.

Especially dealing with the likes of the O'Driscolls, wouldn't that ring some kind of alarm? If not from Dutch or Micah, then wouldn't anybody else at the camp question it?

I imagine an (exaggerated) conversation like this probably happened if anyone at camp asked:

"Hey Dutch how was the meeting with the O'Driscolls?"

"It went fine we talked a bit then they left suddenly so weird"

"Where's Arthur then?"

"Oh I don't know we didn't see him after we split up for the meeting haha probably wandered off again typical Arthur"

God, if you're going to treat Arthur like the gang's workhorse, then act like you care about him at least.

Arthur is strong, but he isn't invincible.

[sordidamok]

Many churches do charitable work. In my area, the homeless shelter could not operate without the support of local faith communities - including Jews and Muslims.

Fewer people participating in church means fewer people doing that charitable work. If the need is going to be served, more non-religious organizations will have to serve it.

I'm all for taxing churches. I'm also all for taxing the rich and investing that money in social programs that help those in need.

[tsukioasis]

Maintaining the garden wall 🪴🤍

[many-sparrows]

Christians for a free palestine call tomorrow night! This is the group that blocked off the congressional cafeteria in protest. Let's show up in force!

[daisydood]

no matter how man times i play rdr2 i will ALWAYS get jumpscared when the o'driscoll dude bashes arthurs head in during Blessed are The Peacemakers idk why i dont expect it

[supraventriculart]

Long essay about John Marston I wrote stoned off my ass.

In Red Dead Redemption 1. Playing as John dosent make you feel any bigger or inherently better than the NPCs around you. I think this lines up with John as a person.

A genius part of John Marston is the fact that he is nothing special. This sounds like a diss but hear me out.

John is by all accounts a man on a mission. He is downright dismissive of having a viewpoint on most anything. The only thing important to him is exactly what he's doing.

A Determined Man is basically the only thing you could really title him. Besides badass.

He does not give a fuck. He dosent want fame, wealth, or anything like that. And has no ego.

He's very wise in that he's so thought out that he sees the bad in every facet of what he's presented. He dismisses concepts like hope, faith, morality, government, revolution, and war.

He only lives in reality and makes his own conclusions. He sees how pointless being anything but John Marston really is.

So that said, playing him does not feel any different.

John is not a gunslinger, bounty hunter, outlaw, legend, hero, villain, or anything.

He's just a man on a mission.

We ourselves see the bullshit in anything that gets preached to John as we're also just a player with a mission. Just as invested in getting our bounty as John is.

So playing as him. You really don't feel like an action hero or superhuman or anything.

You feel like John Marston.

Someone with a lot of experience with a gun, a long life of adventure and life experience to think on, a few big scars to show he's walked up to the edge of death and spit in it, a cynical outlook and confident in himself

He's completely badass. But not because he's got magic powers (deadeye I guess, but that's just a video game simulation of his many many years spent in gunfights basically trivializing combat for him he's so good), not because he's an honorable hero who's done good in the world, not because he's gods chosen one, and not because he's so good looking.

But because he's just a guy, who's lived a very rocky traumatic life with a lot of experiences, who's hard childhood forced him into a life of endless killing, and who's awful circumstances lead to him getting mauled by wolves and permanently engraved with his past.

Yes, having a crazy scar, being an ex big time outlaw, being insanely proficient with a rifle, having a rough voice, a constant snarl, being armed to the teeth at all times, and having great sarcastic lines do all make a character badass.

But he's not badass just to be badass. He dosent just have those things because it's convenient for the plot, he has them because he just happened to be unlucky enough to be born unto trouble and put on a path to do awful things and see awful things.

John Marston is just a man. Who happens to have lived a life with so much turmoil that it gave him the traits of a movie star badass. Everything about him is real as fuck. Hes not better than anyone else, he's not lesser than anyone else, he's a human. He's in an awful time of his life. And his past experiences of that have given him the skills to go through another one.

So playing John. You feel just like John. Rockstar totally fucking perfected that in this game.

Walking around you're not bigger than any other NPC. You're an average height male with just enough muscle to show a life of physical labor. Which was much common back then.

You are armed to the teeth, you are wearing black bounty hunter gloves, you do have the scar, the rough voice, and the confident walk.

But as a person it just dosent affect that at all.

John still excuses himself when he bumps into people, says howdy to people, he's a little anxious maybe but makes sense for a guy like him.

He talks like a person. He dosent speak like his dialogue was purposefully written better than any other characters, he's a bit wiser than most cause we're seeing it from his point of view, he's very good at threatening people because I mean just look at him and hear his voice, and he's not afraid to kill a man at any minute cause he's horrifyingly desensitized to it, and he dosent talk in some authoritative or hero like tone over others.

He justs a guy existing normally.

And so you don't feel like anything more than a guy in a world, who happens to be extremely good at killing people. And who happens to be a really likeable person despite all he's done. He really is just a guy. And his badassery dosent stem from just being badass for the sake of it needing a badass protagonist. He's badass because of who he is. Not what he is.

John Marston best girl. RDR1 is my favorite game ever.

I will do a part 2 about Arthur. I was very high writing this and have not proofread it at all before posting so have fun with that.

"People don't forget. Nothing gets forgiven."

"We die alone, but we live amongst men."

"I'm many things, most of them bad. But a man of political principals? No."

- John Marston

[moonah-rose]

When John tells Arthur during Kieran's mission "I'd do the same for you, if you were ever in a bad way." to which Arthur doubts him, the perfect moment to have John make good on that would have been to have him be the one to find and rescue Arthur during BATP and bring him back to camp!

Yes, I get that a huge part of John's guilt in the epilogue is never getting to repay or thank Arthur for all he did so revenge is all he had but, screw it, it would have felt like that mission served a purpose!

[zooophagous]

Aster is such a narc when I'm getting cranky because Cheza is acting up he actively gets out of bed to go beat her up for me lmfao

[some-sort-of-siren]

Personally my take on religion is that I respect Jesus but it all went downhill after that. I think that if we all internalized what the teachings of Jesus ACTUALLY were then Christianity would be a religion worth associating myself with.

[12timetraveler]

The Father and The Son

After Arthur disappears on a mission to try and make peace with the O'Driscolls, Hosea and Reader are faced with a difficult situation.

The first fic for my Short Sprint is done. I know this may not be short to some of y'all but staying under 10k words is a real challenge for me lol.

There's smut right off the bat so be warned

The whole piece can be read below and is also on my AO3

"Hose--mph"

"Hush, dove. We wouldn't want some poor passerby to hear," 

~~~~~~

You'd jumped on the chance to... Heh... to jump on your beloved. The moment Dutch, Micah and Arthur rode out of camp, on some mission to make peace with the O'Driscolls, you'd seen your chance and you were going to take it goddamnit. 

The mission was likely a trap. Hosea had said so. But Dutch, Micah and Arthur were more than capable of handling themselves. It was a risk, and they'd decided to take it, so there was no stopping them. 

As soon as they'd left camp, you'd pounced. Hosea was standing on the shore, puffing on a cigarette when you found him. You'd sidled up to him, slipping one arm around his back, the other coming up to rest on his chest. 

You'd purred some sweet words, quiet enough for only him to hear. He'd toyed with you a bit, knowing exactly what you were playing at, but that didn't last long. You knew he was just as eager to get his hands on you, as busy as he'd been dealing with the Brathwaite family. 

Without Dutch calling for him every five minutes, he finally had an hour or two to himself. The others could certainly spare him for an hour. He needed a distraction, a release, and you just needed him. 

So the two of you climbed into the boat that the old guard had "borrowed" on their fishing trip, calling out that you'd be back before sundown, and set out across the lake. 

You pulled ashore at one of the islands just across from Clemens Point, strolling along the beach for a moment before you said to hell with it and dragged him into the trees, where the two of you collided, teeth clashing in sloppy kisses. 

So here you were, drawers around one ankle, back against a tree, Hosea's clever fingers in your pussy and his sweet words in your ear as he pushed you toward a third orgasm. He loved to tease you, bring you over the edge again and again until you were hardly even coherent before entering you. He claimed it was to make up for his lack of stamina, but you knew he could last quite a while, given the chance. He just liked watching you come apart on his fingers. 

"Hose--mph," you cried, cut off by his lips covering yours. 

"Hush, dove." He murmured as he broke the kiss, lips beginning to trail across your face, down your cheek and to your neck. "We wouldn't want some poor passerby to hear," he rumbled. "Some innocent fisherman out on his boat, it's the last thing they'd be expecting." 

"I can't," you whined, tilting your head so he could love on your neck as you rolled your hips down against his hand. He had two fingers all the way to the last knuckle inside of you, his thumb and palm working your clit just beautifully. "It's too good. Hosea I... I can't... Hnnnn,"  

"Yes you can," he murmured. "I know you can. My clever girl, she can do anything she puts her mind to," he lifted his head, hazel eyes meeting your hazy, misty ones. "You can keep your volume down for me, can't you, you sweet, gorgeous girl? For me you'll do it." 

Damn him, he was pulling all the right threads, the master puppeteer working you like a marionette. 

You whined and dropped your head against his shoulder. "Yes," you mewled. "I... I'll keep quiet." 

"That's my girl," Hosea whispered, lips coming to your neck once more. "You never disappoint me. Such a good girl," 

You sobbed against his shoulder. Between his sweet praises and his magical fingers you just felt so fucking good. Like you were floating. 

"That's it, dove. You can muffle your sounds in my shoulder if you need to," he cooed against your skin. 

"Th-thank you," you sniffled, making him chuckle. 

"Sweet thing," he purred, stroking your hair with his free hand. You moaned as his fingers picked up the pace, hitting your g-spot perfectly as his palm rubbed your clit. 

"Oh sh-shit," you whispered, holding onto him for dear life. 

"Are you going to cum for me, dearest?" Hosea murmured. "The way you're squeezing around me, soaking my fingers. Oh, you feel like you're close," 

"Hosea," you whined. "I w-want you inside," you lifted your head just enough to meet his hazel eyes, so warm and comforting. "Please. P-please. I need to feel you," you could feel his cock through his pants, so hard and hot. You knew he wanted you. 

You sobbed when he shook his head no, flopping your forehead against his shoulder. "Please," you begged, clutching at his shirt with all your strength. "Please. Please, Daddy," 

It wasn't a name the two of you used often. But you knew it was your best card to play to get what you wanted. 

Hosea let out a wounded moan, burying his face against your neck. You heard the beginnings of a few curse words under his breath, and his hips rolled against your thigh just once. But he kept his resolve. 

"Cum for me first, sweetheart," he murmured, voice hoarse with lust. "Cum on my fingers one more time, and then I'll fill you up," 

You whined but didn't protest further. You were so close anyway. You could feel it building in you like a flash flood rumbling downstream to wash you down the gully. 

"Ah... Nnngh. Hosea," you moaned against his shoulder. 

"That's it, my sweet, beautiful girl. Cum for me. Come on, dove, cum for me," he groaned in your ear. 

You had to bite down on Hosea's shoulder as you came hard around his fingers, entire body shuddering with the force of it. You'd likely have fallen over if not for Hosea keeping you upright against the tree. For a moment you were blinded with it, aware of nothing but the immense pleasure in your core and Hosea's sweet voice in your ear.

"Good girl, dove. I'm so proud of you. So good for me," Hosea cooed in your ear as he gently eased you back down to earth. 

"H'sea," you slurred, fingers sliding down his body to his hips. He was already ahead of you, gunbelt dropping to the dirt around his ankles before popping the buttons free on his trousers. 

His cock slipped out through the opening at the front of his drawers and out of his trousers. He was so long, and presently he was hard enough to cut diamond, and the head was glistening with precum. All for you. 

You hastily gathered your skirts up out of the way and hooked one leg around Hosea's thigh. He grabbed your leg and helped you wrap around his hip, pulling the two of you closer. His cock bumped your sensitive clit, making you jolt in blissful oversensitivity. 

You could have screamed in pleasure as he pushed into you. You flung one arm around his shoulders, the other holding your skirts up. Your head flopped forward against his shoulder once more, muffling your sounds of delight as he sheathed himself fully inside of you. 

"God, dove, how do you feel so good?" He growled, clutching your waist tightly as he held himself deep inside of you, savoring the feeling of your vagina wrapped around him and giving you a moment to adjust. "You just feel..." Hosea sighed. "You feel like home," 

You whined and nodded against his shoulder. You knew exactly what he meant. You never felt more right than with Hosea balls-deep inside of you. You'd feel empty and lacking for hours after a good fucking like this. 

Hosea slowly withdrew his hips, teeth gritted with the effort it took to not pound you into the tree. You knew he was trying to ease you into it. But that's not what you wanted. 

"Give it to me," you keened, grabbing his shoulder tightly. "I can take it. I need you so bad. Please, Daddy," you begged, using that little name again, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist. 

Hosea groaned and his grip on you tightened. He shifted his stance ever-so-slightly and did as you asked, not holding back as he fucked you against the tree. 

Oh but it was everything you needed. You bit your lip to muffle your screams of pleasure as he split you in half. Not that the clap of skin against skin wouldn't give you away to any boatman who passed the island. Hell they may even be able to hear you across the water back at camp. 

Hosea, the normally composed man who had every move thought out, looked a mess in front of you. He was moaning and panting, eyes locked on yours as he took you. He had your hip in a vice grip, and the fingers clutching your thigh were definitely going to leave bruises. 

He wasn't going to last long, if the noises he was making and the tension in his shoulder under your hand told you anything. He definitely had some tells as he was getting close, and today each and every one were laid out for you. 

But you weren't much better off. You'd been longing to feel him for days now, barely able to contain yourself around camp. You needed him desperately, and finally having his cock inside, having it pounding into you, hitting all the best places, you were up in the clouds. 

"Dove I..." Hosea grunted. You could see how close he was, eyes squinted, brow furrowed. 

"Give it to me, Daddy," you whined. "All of it. Fill me up. I'm right behind," 

With a cry of your name, he came, hips slowing as rope after rope of spend filled you. The feeling, combined with the incredible sounds Hosea was making in your ear, was enough to send you over the edge, milking him for every drop.

Hosea buried his head in your neck, trembling with the overwhelming pleasure he was feeling. Honest-to-god trembling. You were used to him leaving you trembling, but you'd only seen him this worked up maybe twice before. You loved it. 

You held him tightly, nuzzling your cheek over his head as you tried to catch your breath. The two of you were propping each other up, neither of you standing on steady feet. 

It was all either of you could do for the moment. Just holding each other, taking in the sensations. His silky hair against your cheek, your walls fluttering around his softening member, his hot breath on your skin. 

Hosea let out a shuddering sigh as his cock slid out. Suddenly you felt very empty and lacking. You grabbed onto him tighter, keeping him as close as possible. He seemed more than happy to do so, shifting his stance so he could tuck your head under his chin and rubbing your back with such a tender touch. 

He broke away for just a moment to turn his face into his shoulder to cough, but it was only a short coughing fit, and within a few moments you were tucked against him once more. 

"Oh dove," he sighed. "You need to be careful. You're going to be the death of this old man," 

"Maybe but what a way to go," you teased. He coughed out a laugh, clearing his throat before settling against you once more. 

"Indeed," he chuckled, kissing the top of your head. 

For the moment neither of you could move, just content to stay in each other's arms, tucked away amongst the trees. No worries, no problems, just you and him together. 

~~~~~~~~

"There you are, old girl," Dutch called as you rowed back into camp, pulling up alongside the broken old dock. You grabbed one of the posts, quickly securing the boat to the dock with a rope. "Where'd you two get to?" He asked, standing just on shore. 

"Took a boat ride around the island over there," Hosea explained, climbing out of the boat and reaching out a hand for you. "Just a little romantic boat ride," 

"Mhmm," Dutch folded his arms, watching shrewdly as you gingerly climbed out of the boat with Hosea's help, feeling a bit sore between your legs. No doubt he'd already noticed the damp spot on Hosea's shirt where you'd bitten down, and the state of your hair as well as his, despite your best efforts to compose yourselves. Neither of you were a complete mess, but you both looked a bit disheveled.

"How'd the meeting go?" You asked, knowing the slight hoarseness of your voice was also giving you away. Well so what if you'd both snuck away to fuck each other silly? It wasn't a crime. 

"Yes, how was Colm?" Hosea asked dryly. 

"Well," Dutch sighed. "There is no truce. We exchanged some words, I apologized for his brother, but in the end he said no and we parted before things could get ugly." 

"He didn't shoot at you?" Hosea asked, surprised. 

"No," Dutch shrugged. "Not sure what his game was. Maybe he was talked into it by one of his boys like I was," the three of you walked back through camp. "Seems it was a waste of time," 

"Where's Arthur?" You asked, glancing around. You didn't see his horse next to Silver Dollar, where it normally chose to graze. Nor hitched to any of the posts. And the large man was hard to miss in camp, but you didn't see him anywhere. 

"Not sure," Dutch replied. "He didn't show back up to the meetup spot after it was over," he shrugged. "We rode up the ridge to where he was supposed to watch and didn't see any sign of him." 

"So... You just left?" You asked, trying not to sound too incredulous. 

"He was... Grumpy with us the ride there. I think maybe he just needed some time away. And you know how Arthur is. He gets stir crazy and takes off for a few days but he'll be back soon," Dutch explained. 

You looked over at Hosea, who was nodding along pensively, but the furrow in his brow told you he felt something was wrong too. 

"You two worry too much," Dutch sighed, clapping you both on the shoulder. "He'll swagger back home in a couple days with some meat for the pot, money for the box, and a crazy story to tell like always. You'll see." 

"Sure, Dutch," Hosea said with a small smile. 

"Come on," Dutch urged, jerking his head toward the stew pot. "Stews ready. And you two look like... Heh. Well you look like you need to restore some energy," he teased, elbowing Hosea. 

The two of you exchanged glances but ultimately followed Dutch to the stew pot. You knew you'd discuss it later. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later and Arthur still wasn't home. You and Hosea had ridden into town to see if he'd ended up in the jailhouse, or the saloon. But there was no sign of him. 

There wasn't much either of you could do. There was technically no sign that something had gone wrong, but you couldn't help but worry. Something just didn't sit right. 

Hosea had kept a cool outward appearance, not wanting to worry any of the others, though you could see a couple of them were starting to wonder. Arthur often took off for a week or so, just doing little odd jobs and exploring, but it just felt out of character for him to do after a job like this, without telling Dutch or Micah. 

So outwardly Hosea tried to play it off like he believed Arthur was just out exploring, not wanting to stir up camp. But privately the two of you had discussed at length where he could be. You had a sneaking suspicion that Hosea had been right about the trap. 

Hosea stayed up late, watching the camp entrance hoping Arthur would trot back into camp with some wild tale about a ghost or something. Arthur was very dear to Hosea, more dear than he might admit, though he wasn't why with his fondness either. They claimed to see each other as brothers-in-arms, but you knew it was far more of a father/son relationship. And like any good father, Hosea was worried. 

You were too, of course. But you had to push your worry aside. Hosea was not sleeping, and nearly forgot to eat, had you not reminded him. You could do nothing for Arthur, wherever he may be, but you could make sure Hosea was taken care of so he could do whatever would need to be done about Arthur. 

Once again you found him standing by Silver Dollar, idly smoking a cigarette and just staring out at the trees, waiting, watching. The sun had only just set, and it was grey out, but the treeline was dark, and it was hard to make anything out. But still be stood, like a waiting sentinel.

"Hosea," you murmured, breaking him out of his trance. He hadn't even heard you approaching, the way he started before turning his head to see you. He smiled and pulled you in close, kissing the top of your head and tucking you in against his side, but not saying anything. 

You stood with him in silence for a time before speaking again. "A watched kettle never boils," you murmured.  

"I know," he sighed, eyes still locked on the treeline. "I just don't know what else to do," 

"Come to bed," you said gently. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow we'll... I don't know. We'll ride out. Maybe head to Valentine, see if he ended up there. The O'Driscolls are still around there, maybe we can interrogate one. But there's nothing more you can do tonight," 

Hosea sighed and dropped his cigarette, stamping it out in the dirt. "You're right," he relented, turning fully to look at you. He leaned down and planted a kiss on your nose. "As always," 

You smiled at him and grabbed his hand, leading him back into camp and to your shared tent, a simple A frame tent that was set up near Arthur's wagon, with Strauss's wagon on the other side of your tent, closer to the horses. 

With some gentle coaxing you finally got Hosea to lay down and fall asleep with you spooning him, humming gently while rubbing his back and scratching his head. 

~~~~~~~~

A few hours later you woke, needing to relieve yourself. Much of camp was still up. You and Hosea had retired rather early. Abigail and Jack were settling in to their bedrolls, and Tilly was curled up on her pallet, but most of the others were still up, chatting around the fire. 

You quietly slipped out of the tent without waking Hosea, who was honestly dead to the world as tired as he was. It was a short walk out of camp to find a spot to go. 

On your way back to your tent you heard a commotion near the edge of camp. You squinted, trying to figure out who the rider was, slumped over their horse. But then you knew. You'd know that horse anywhere. 

"Hosea!" You yelled, sprinting toward the tent. Others had noticed the horse as well and were racing over to Arthur as he fell off his horse. As much as your body was screaming to go check on Arthur, you knew you needed to wake Hosea. 

As you skidded to a stop outside your tent, you were met by Hosea scrambling out of the tent, looking around wide-eyed. He grabbed your arms, steadying you before the two of you could collide. 

"Arthur," it was all you could say, pointing to the edge of camp. He took in your wild-eyed expression and followed your finger to the edge of camp, just in time to see some of the men hoisting up Arthur's limp body. 

"A-Arthur," Hosea stammered, racing over. "Arthur," he called as he fell in line with the others carrying him to his tent. You were right on his heels, ready to jump into action. 

"'Sea," Arthur croaked. He was in bad shape. His shoulder was bloody and singed, his union suit was torn up, and what you could see of his body was dirty and bruised. 

"I'm here, dear boy. You're safe. You're home," Hosea assured him, taking Arthur's outstretched hand. 

"Mrs. Grimshaw would you sit with him?" Dutch asked as Arthur was lowered onto his cot. 

"Of course," she began to say, but Hosea pushed past her. 

"No, no. I'll sit with him," Hosea said quickly. You and Susan exchanged glances and you nodded. Hosea could sit and look after Arthur, and you'd look after Hosea. 

"Alright. I'll go help gather bandages and the like," Susan said, stepping out of the way as Hosea settled on a crate nearby. You stood behind him, resting your hand on his shoulder. 

"Uh oh, Hosea," Arthur grumbled, giving you the best mischievous grin he could muster, as groggy and weak as he was. "She's giving us that look. The one that says she's not gonna put up with any horse shit," 

"And I'm not," you agreed firmly. "From either of you," you emphasized your point with a squeeze to Hosea's shoulder. 

"Arthur what... What happened?" Hosea asked, clutching one of Arthur's hands in both of his. You busied yourself in lowering the canvas around Arthur's tent. Arthur almost always had drawn up, liking a more open air set up, but he could certainly use some privacy right now. 

"You were right. Was a trap," Arthur rasped. "Wanted me for bait. Lure you all in," 

"Oh, Arthur," Hosea sighed, bringing their clasped hands up to his bowed head. 

"Well, you got away," you assured him, assured them both. "You're safe now. Safe as can be, anyway." 

Arthur grunted in response. You could see he was drifting off, exhausted and wounded. 

Susan slipped into the tent a few minutes later with a bucket and some clean rags, as well as a small bundle of medical supplies. With that, the three of you got to work in cleaning up your injured friend. 

Hosea propped the semi-conscious Arthur up while you and Susan unbuttoned his union suit and slid it off of his shoulders until he was only covered below his hips. The fabric around the bullet wound was burned into his skin in some places, and you had to carefully cut it away, debriding the wound as you went. Fortunately Arthur wasn't very awake for that part. 

Then you got to work cleaning him up. His torso was mottled purple with bruises, though no open wounds there other than his shoulder. But his face was covered in little cuts from his rough treatment. Carefully you cleaned his face while Hosea and Susan dressed his shoulder wound. 

Arthur was in and out of consciousness for the whole process. At one point he muttered something jokingly. All you caught was "Hosea" and "Jealous" as you were tenderly cleaning a cut on his cheek, hand unconsciously resting on his uninjured shoulder. 

Finally the three of you changed him into a clean union suit, leaving his injured shoulder out to make changing the bandages less of a hassle for all involved. 

Once his physical wounds had been tended, and a couple fresh tonics forced down his throat by a very determined Hosea, finally the man was left to rest. Susan took the dirty rags out to dry, and his torn union suit to be destroyed, as there was no salvaging any of it. 

Arthur was firmly unconscious by this point, mind turning off to force him to sleep. Hosea settled on a crate beside Arthur's cot, holding one of Arthur's hands in his own as he watched the man's chest rise and fall. 

"Hosea," you murmured anxiously. He looked up at you and gave you a weak smile. 

"You go to bed, dove. I'm," he looked back at his surrogate son. "I'm gonna sit with him tonight." 

You wanted to fight him on it. But you knew it was useless. You could stay up with him, but what good could you really do at this point. Someone ought to get some sleep and be useful in the morning. 

"Alright love," you murmured. "I'll be in the tent if you need anything." 

"Thank you, Dove," Hosea said, squeezing your hand where it rested on his shoulder. You leaned forward and he happily gave you a parting kiss before you stepped out and went next door to your tent. What little sleep you got was restless and worried. 

~~~~~~

The next morning you entered Arthur's tent to find Arthur awake, mostly, and Hosea snoring away with his head bowed and chin tucked against his chest. Arthur gave you a weak smile. 

"He stay all night?" Arthur asked hoarsely. You nodded. 

"Hosea, sweety," you murmured, shaking his shoulder gently. "Wake up, love," 

Hosea snorted awake, looking around wildly, ready to jump into action. You grabbed his shoulder and rubbed the back of his neck gently, easing him back onto the crate. 

"Oh..." He mumbled, seeing you, seeing Arthur, and seeing the sunlight through the canvas. "I'm sorry I..." He yawned and pinched the bridge of his nose, wiping the sleep out of his eye. "I must have dozed off. How are you feeling, dear boy?" 

"I'll be honest old man, I've been better," Arthur sighed. "But I'm alive and I'm back at camp so that's a start, I suppose." 

"Indeed," Hosea paused studying Arthur. He opened his mouth to say something. To apologize, to ask what happened, you weren't sure. But you could tell Arthur wasn't really up for it. 

"Love, go take a nap," you interrupted, gently tugging him to his feet. "I'll sit with him a while." 

Hosea hesitated, looking like he'd protest. He glanced desperately between you and Arthur. 

"Better do as she says, Hosea. Her wrath rivals Grimshaw's." Arthur teased. "Go take a nap, have a smoke, get some food."

"Alright," Hosea relented. "Just for a couple hours. Then I'll be back," 

"I'll be here," Arthur assured him. 

You grabbed Hosea, pulling him down so you could kiss his cheek. He gave you a crooked smile and pulled you in for a full kiss before ducking out. 

"You don't need to sit with me y'know," Arthur mumbled as you sat on the crate. "I'll be fine," 

"Someone ought to stay close. Mind your fever," you explained. "Besides, he'll never leave unless someone else is in here." 

"That's true," Arthur chuckled. A few moments later, he drifted back off to sleep.

~~~~~~~

Susan stepped in a few hours later, ready to take over from you. 

"I can stay a bit longer," you argued. You'd only be sitting there for maybe four hours. 

"No, I think you've got another job you need to do," Susan said firmly, pulling you to your feet. "Go take a look at your husband. He's currently sitting by the main fire." 

The sight that greeted you would have been a bit adorable if it weren't also so sad.  

Hosea sat in a chair by the main campfire, cin tucked into his chest, a half finished cigarette burned out between his fingers, snoring. He was exhausted, and you could see his eyelids were red, likely from him trying not to cry at the situation. 

It broke your heart to see. You knew how he was hurting from knowing Arthur had been captured, that he'd been held prisoner and tortured for days by Colm. That he'd had to break himself free, cauterize his own wound, and ride himself back to camp. It was heartbreaking. 

John sat not to far away from Hosea, cleaning his guns and keeping a subtle eye on him, likely making sure he didn't accidentally tumble forward into the fire. John looked up as you approached and gave you a solemn nod before standing up. The changing of the guard. 

You walked over to stand in front of your husband, trying to decide the best thing to do. You could leave him here to sleep. He surely needed it. But you had a feeling there was something he needed more. 

You reached out a hand and gently grabbed his wrist, shaking him gently. "Hosea," you cooed. 

Hosea started awake once more, looking around and quickly taking in everything around him. His eyes settled on you and his face softened just a little, as it always did when he saw you. 

"Hello dove," he yawned. "Sorry, I must have dozed off. Is it my turn to go sit with Arthur again?" He was already pushing himself to his feet, ready to go back to Arthur's tent. But you had a firm grip on his wrist, stopping him from walking.  

"No, love. Susan is with him. Come on," you said, leading him over to your tent. 

"I'm fine, dove, I..." He began to argue, but a quick look over your shoulder at him told him to stop resisting. 

You led him to your tent and closed the tent flaps behind you. You didn't say anything, just lay down in your tent and guided Hosea to lay down beside you. 

He lay on his back, certainly expecting you to snuggle up against his side like you always do. But instead you lay flat on your back and gently tugged him to cuddle up to you, his head resting on your chest. 

It took him a moment to adjust to the new arrangement, but he quickly settled in against you. The way he squeezed your waist told you that you were definitely right. With Arthur home safe and healing in his tent, Hosea just needed to take a moment. 

"Dove I--" 

"Shhh," you hushed him gently. "Just take a few minutes, no talking, just... Breathe," 

Hosea hummed and nuzzled in closer, tucking his head under your chin. You wrapped your arm up to play with his hair, fingernails lightly scratching his scalp in a way you knew he loved. 

The two of you lay there for a time, and at first you thought he may have fallen asleep. Then you felt his chest lurch, and heard a faint sniffle from him. Warm droplets of water fell down his cheek to your blouse. 

That's what you had expected. That's what he needed. 

You held him tighter as he began to weep, petting his hair and rubbing his back as his tears picked up. He clutched at your blouse and buried his face into the cool cotton fabric. 

Hosea's quiet sobs triggered a coughing fit. You gingerly sat up so you could cradle him against you in a way that wouldn't hinder his coughing fit. You gently rubbed his back, easing the ache in his lungs as best you could until the coughing subsided, and he could return to weeping against your chest. 

It broke your heart to see him all torn up like this. You knew he was blaming himself, blaming Dutch, blaming this cruel world for all it had done to his boy. As toughened as Hosea was, he was a tender man with a tender heart. He felt everything with such deep emotion. 

Hosea wept for about an hour, maybe a little more. Every time his tears would start to subside, they'd pick back up again as another wave of grief hit him. You never tried to stop him, didn't say a word other than a few gentle murmurs of sweet nonsense. But you never hushed him or rushed him. He needed to cry it all out, if you had to sit here all afternoon and night. 

Your own tears began falling. Crying for your friend, who'd nearly lost his life. For your beloved husband, who'd nearly lost his son. For the unfairness of it all. Your tears didn't even come close to rivaling Hosea's, but still you wept. 

Slowly Hosea's sniffles quieted, and the damp spots on your blouse grew cold, no longer warmed by fresh tears. Slowly Hosea lifted his head. He looked exhausted, but you could see the burden of hiding his emotions had lifted some, now that he'd been in a space where he could just feel. 

You gently cupped his face in your hands, leaning forward and kissing away the wet trails on his cheeks. Hosea just sighed and leaned into your touches like a cat. After your kisses, you used your thumbs to wipe away the remains of his tears. 

"Thank you, dove," he murmured, turning his head to kiss your palm. "I just..." He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. 

"I know," you said, pulling him in for a long hug. "I know," 

[kronkk]

curious because there are so many interpretations: what do you think was going through Dutch's mind when Arthur disappeared after the meeting with Colm O'Driscoll?

Straight up no clue. But I have no fucking idea how he didn't think. Hmm. My right hand man is gone after this suspicious meet with my arch nemesis. Maybe this is slightly off.

I suspect because Micah was the one who told arthur to act as sniper, that if Dutch was suspicious and Micah was double/triple agenting that he'd convince Dutch that arthur was on a hunting trip or something. I think a major part of the game js Dutch thinking he's better than others, always two steps ahead, meanwhile the Pinkertons ( and Bronte) are breathing down his neck at best, already mid swing to deck him at worst, so I could see him just thinking he outwit Colm and it just simply wouldn't even cross his mind that he'd been tricked

[arthursfuckinghat]

FUCK YOU COLM O'DRISCOLL FUCK YOU AND YOUR GODDAMN ROTTEN SOUL

[sordidamok]

Believe the mystical stuff or not, participation in religious organizations used to give people access to community. A church was like a big extended family that also did charity work. As churches have become more political, those beneficial aspects of participation have become harder for people to get. So they're quitting.

Christian nationalists see their hold on power crumbling, so they're becoming more radical. They're throwing more money at hard right politicians.

People who care about feeding the hungry and healing the sick - the stuff Jesus taught - are finding other ways to serve their neighbors.

It's past time churches started paying taxes.

[tsukioasis]

Discussing the feud between bobo and momo over tea, i really want try and build peace between both of them! All three of them tho

[supraventriculart]

It's so cool how John's character development works when you think about it. How after living a thieves life like he had and seeing so much shit. He's now had time to think it all over while doing mind numbing farm work. And in RDR1 we see him now very wise, having experienced so much of life and having it finally all ruminate.

[moonah-rose]

Don't suppose anyone has any RDR2 recs set around Blessed Are The Peacemakers? Like if Arthur doesn't manage to escape and the gang come for him. Or like during his weeks recovering.

Preferably not shippy unless it's Charthur but mostly looking for gen whump / hurt-comfort. That mission is peak for that shit.