#frame overo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lacrymatoryao3 · 8 days

Text

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.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 posting #rdr #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #rdr2 community #red dead 2 #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption community #arthur morgan rdr2

16 notes · View notes

blubushie · 1 year

Note

You know those misconceptions posts you made about things like weapons and medical stuff? Could you do one for horses (and maybe along with some other animals, too)?

Yeah, no wukkas! :]

Horses sleep standing up. Horses can nap while standing, but REM sleep only happens when the horse is lying down.

Horses are colourblind. Horses have dichromatic vision. They're able to see blues and yellows (and thus certain shades of green) but they can't see red, pink, or purple.

Horses communicate vocally. While neighs and nickers are used for long-distance "where are yous", horses primarily use body language for communication. Most of this is done with ear signals.

Horses need shoes. This is more an individual or breed thing than a necessity. Many horses do fine barefoot, especially breeds like mustangs or brumbies, where they've spent generations without shoes. Other breeds who generally have softer feet (like thoroughbreds) often require shoes as a baseline. Shoes also depends on how much work a horse does. Horses that have a large area to roam and are often active don't need their hooves trimmed often either. When I was a stockman and worked with Wiluna, who was a brumby caught at 2 and trained as a stockhorse, she never wore a shoe a day in her life and she didn't need trimmings since she was run often and naturally wore her hooves down.

White horses are common. The horse on the left is not white, it's grey. You can tell it's grey because it has black skin on its muzzle and black skin around its eyes. Greys are born grey and often lighten to white as they age. True white horses are the result of the dominant white gene, which is extremely rare. They have pink hooves, pink skin on the nose and around their eyes, but brown eyes. Dominant whites are born white. The thoroughbred on the right is a dominant white. ALBINO HORSES DO NOT EXIST. THERE IS NO ALBINISM GENE IN HORSES. That said, the closest gene to albinism in horses are lethal white syndrome foals, none of which survive longer than 72 hours after birth because the frame overo gene that results in their white colour also results in them being born without a colon. It's an agonising death and most are euthanised a few hours after birth. They're born with pink skin, all-white coats, pink hooves, and blue eyes. Sometimes their colour is almost a lilac purple.

Horses don't live a long time. With modern care horses often live into their 30s and even 40s. The oldest horse to ever live died at 62 years old in 1822. The most recent World's Oldest Horse, a gelding named Shayne, passed away at 51 years old in 2013.

Mules are stubborn. Mules aren't stubborn, they're just extremely smart and more certain in their own abilities than horses are (something they get from their donkey parent). Horses are self-destructive and have practically zero sense of self-preservation. Mules have incredible self-preservation and will not do something they do not think they can do without harming themselves, which makes people think they're stubborn. A horse will jump a metre to the ground and break its legs doing so, a mule will refuse the jump and slide down inside, preserving its life.

Mares are calmer than stallions. Any equestrian can tell you that mares are just as bad if not worse than stallions sometimes. They're moody and temperamental and very bloody obstinate. In my experience stallions are generally fairly easy to handle as long as there isn't a mare in oestrus nearby, but even then most riding/working horses are not stallion, they are gelded. You cannot geld a mare and they show it. Wiluna (the mare I rode when I was a stockman) would not tolerate ANYONE but me, and would frequently bite other horses around her, which is why she was relegated to working with me instead of being doubled up with someone else. Because of this she also had to be hobbled alone. She ran the mob and she knew it.

Mustangs have always been in the Americas. While it's true that horses WERE native to the Americas at one point, they (like most Pleistocene megafauna) went extinct in the Americas during the tail end of the last ice age, possibly due to overhunting by humans. The mustangs that are now in America (and the brumbies now in Australia) are technically feral animals, having descended from domestic animals what went wild or were left to wander. There is a case that could made, I supposed, for how long a species has to be in a place in order for it to be considered native (for example, dingos are considered a native species in some states despite having only been in Australia for ~5k years and not evolving on continent) but this is up for debate.

The natural gait of a horse isn't a gallop, but instead a trot. In the wild, galloping is only for flight to escape predators. A trot is the comfortable cruising gait of a horse.

Horses don't have sensitive skin. Horses have very very sensitive skin! It's why I don't like pointed spurs. The spurs I wore were rowels with the prongs filed down so I wouldn't poke Wiluna when I used them, but often they just ended up being for show since she responded so easily without them. All I needed was a light tap of my boot and she'd sidestep or do whatever I needed her to. That side, while the hide is sensitive, the mane is not. I would routinely fist a hand with the reins in Wiluna's mane when riding hard and she never fussed over it. You also grip the reins with one hand and fist that hand in the horse's mane when mounting as well.

You don't drive a horse. You guide it. You can drive a wagon/cart but you're still guiding the horse. Driving when it comes to animals/livestock means to bring an animal (but typically a group of animals) somewhere. So "driving horses" would mean you're mustering a mob of horses to a certain location. Think "cattle drive."

Most horses don't actually like their faces touched. This goes especially for strangers. Do not touch the face of a horse you do not know---you're liable to be bitten. If you want to present yourself to a horse, hold out your palm FLAT OUT with your fingers extended slightly downwards and let the horse sniff it. Then pull your hand back before it can bite you, because it's liable to try. (Also, if you feed a horse, the whiskers tickle!)

That's all I can think of for now. Have some horse moustaches.

#blu whos #blu zoo #horses

35 notes · View notes

wyverndaemonart · 9 months

Text

Forgot I could be posting some of my adopts on here to, ooop who needs braincells.

$3 each, will send transparent version of the horse or horses you want without logo through private message or can message through something like FaceBook Messanger or Discord.

1. Black Tobiano. 2. Silver Black irregular frame Overo. 3. Seal Brown, think that's what the coat is called.

Ignore that my coats are odd, I'm not great with realistic ones lol Though fantasy ain't much better for me recently. Need more ideas

#horse #adoptable

2 notes · View notes

graceful-adopts · 2 years

Text

Horse Adopts [OPEN]

Each one is $5 through PayPal and Cashapp! PLEASE READ; - Sta.sh file will be deleted 24 hours after purchase - Will do 48 hour holds and no longer - Payment must be sent within 24 hours of claiming 1 - Dun with Extreme Primitive Markings [OPEN] 2 - Dunalino Tovero [OPEN] 3 - Dunskin Tobiano [OPEN] 4 - Grullo Splash [OPEN] 5 - Red Dun Overo [CLOSED] SnootTheAllMighty on DeviantArt 6 - Red Roan Splash [OPEN] 7 - Buckskin Roan Tovero [CLOSED] equi.holic on Instagram 8 - Bay Roan Brindle [OPEN] 9 - Blue Roan Tovero [OPEN] 10 - Perlino Dun Overo [OPEN] 11 - Silver Black Splash [OPEN] 12 - Cremello with Grullo Chimera [CLOSED] equi.holic on Instagram 13 - Black Tovero [OPEN] 14 - Silver Dunskin Tobiano with Ink Spots [CLOSED] equi.holic on Instagram 15 - Bay Spotted Blanket Appaloosa [OPEN] 16 - Sooty Dunskin Tobiano with Mushroom Chimera [CLOSED] Nexizes on Discord 17 - Buttermilk Buckskin Frame Overo [OPEN] 18 - Seal Bay Overo [CLOSED] cyeglol on Instagram 19 - Red Sorrel Rabicano (Sabino Carrier) [OPEN] 20 - Palomino Snowcap Appaloosa [OPEN] 21 - Chestnut with Birdcatchers and Golden Champagne Chimera [CLOSED] equi.holic on Instagram 22 - Sooty Palomino with Buckskin Pearl Chimera [OPEN] 23 - Silver Black Sabino with Dapple Gray Chimera [CLOSED] equi.holic on Instagram 24 - Dunalino Overo with Black Chimera [CLOSED] stormae.skies on Instagram 25 - Buckskin Roan Tovero with Cremello Chimera [CLOSED] equi.holic on Instagram

Designs - Me Base - Frost-angel2000 on DeviantArt

#horses #horse adopt #horses of tumblr #horse art #character adopt #open adopts #oc adopt #adoptables #adopts

10 notes · View notes

bluepeachstudios · 2 years

Note

I would very much like to hear the mentioned horse rant :)

Oh boy now you've done it. Let this be a lesson to you all. I SAW YOU ALL IN THE TAGS AND COMMENTS ASKING FOR THE HORSE RANT. I apologize in advance if you don't know horse terms, this might be a little confusing. Everything should be google-able??

Leo's horse is literally just named Ninja. She's a 4 year old mustang mare that Leo got when he was 12. (He rode Splinter's hold horse before that). Ninja was born at a neighboring farm's mustang mare and Leo was there to see, the neighbor decided that he was gonna sell her anyway so once she turned a year old she went over to the Hamato's ranch. Splinter trained her but let Leo help with some things, they're thicker than thieves. Ninja doesn't panic easily, and to anyone watching them ride she appears to have a calm demeanor, but she cannot handle inexperienced riders. She has little patience for them and she's a difficult horse to control. She usually likes to be at the front of a group when riding, which suits Leo just fine because that's where he wants to be too. They do reining for competitions!

Raph's horse is a blood bay Quarter Horse gelding named Flashfire. He's 3 years old and Raph stubbornly picked him out of a yearling sale. Flashfire is as stubborn as Raph and it leads to them... Butting heads sometimes. Raph has been thrown more than anyone can count. (That's a lie, Mikey is counting.) Flashfire's got a wild temperament and is hard for anyone to control, but Raph does it best. When they're working together, they are an unstoppable force. Raph and Flashfire do calf-roping at competitiong. (Though Raph wants to do bull-riding, Splinter won't let him.)

Donnie's horse is a 6 year old blue roan near-leopard Appaloosa mare named Fibonacci (nicknamed Fib). Splinter had trained her for Leo initially, but when Donnie was 10 he hurt his leg out in one of the fields and Fib just kinda. Stood next to him the whole time until someone came looking for him. After that he was attached to her, so Splinter gave her to Donnie instead. Fib is super calm and easy to ride, but she's very intelligent and wil use it against her rider. She's the type to suck in a breath when you're tightening the cinch so it's loose. She is also an escape artist. Cannot keep the horse anywhere, she will find a way out. They cannot figure out how. Her and Donnie get along very well. She'll accept other riders just fine, but Donnie knows how to make her shine. Fib and Donnie compete in barrel racing!

Mikey's horse is an 8 year old chestnut frame overo Paint Horse gelding named Butterfly. Splinter got him as a rescue as a yearling and started training him for Mikey. He is the literal friendliest horse ever to exist, he thinks he's a big dog. He follows Mikey everywhere even when not on a lead, which has led to him walking into the house multiple times without Mikey really. Noticing. Anyone can ride him pretty easily, he's a patient horse. He will go to Mikey if he calls, though, even if he has another rider on him. Mikey will regularly take naps on him in pastures bareback. Mikey and Butterfly do cutting events in competition!

#asks #tmnt #tmnt cowboy au #i can't believe I have had to make this a tag

16 notes · View notes