#hosea's death happened

[arthursfuckinghat]

Full disclosure, I'm still on chapter 6 but I wanted to say a few things:

Arthur isn't a mindless killer. If he is mass murdering civilians, that's your choice.

Arthur knows that pain is not currency that you can exchange, and causing it only builds a debt - the kind he can't pay off.

He says it himself, "Revenge is a fool's game" - He writes constantly about his remorse in the journal.

Led by Dutch, the Van Der Linde gang have been chasing the feeling of living by their own terms so much that it's killing them. Pursuing that high has only left them to run forever, from those who want to clip their wings of freedom for the sake of law.

The O'Driscoll and Cornwall feud is a scapegoat for Dutch to get revenge for himself and his pride, he uses his charismatic rhetoric to sway the gang and justify all his actions. If they don't obey, they get named and shamed. Dutch labeling the gang as a family and treating them as such has conditioned them to know not to disappoint him, especially Arthur.

Arthur was taught not to bite the hand that feeds him, even when he wasn't fed.

The days of stealing from the rich and giving to the poor are long gone. Their way of living is outdated and they're running out of land to run away to.

This pursuit of freedom, once idealised, has become a desperate attempt to survive in a world that doesn't want them.

Their hearts have always been in the right place, but their guns were misguided by Dutch.

That loyalty has killed them.

[hihomeghere]

Salt and Pepper | Arthur Morgan / Reader

Word count : 1.4k Summary : Arthur notices his hair is starting to gray. I saw a post on here about Arthur with salt and pepper hair and I couldn’t stop myself hehe. Warnings/Tags : talk about death, getting old, Arthur loves his wife, no tb, Arthur and reader own a house, mention of past gang members, cursing, lots of fluff, self deprecation on Arthur’s side, bullets, mention of weight gain (in a positive way)

“Godamn ugly bastard.” Arthur huffed, his gaze piercing as he looked into the mirror. He hadn’t meant to have himself a pity party this morning. In fact he was feeling quite fine this morning before looking in the small bathroom mirror. Waking up next to you always puts a spring in his step. Especially when he’s waking up in a real bed, underneath a soft quilt that you happened to sew in some free time. Mismatched patches and all, it was his favorite thing in the small home you two shared. Hell, you were becoming quite domestic ever since the house was completed.

But he wasn’t exactly expecting to find gray hair sprouting from his hairline. He wasn’t that old, was he?

“Jesus.” He sighed, inspecting further he realized it wasn’t one or two gray hairs, it was almost twenty. Hidden under his longer than normal locks after forgoing a haircut for the last couple weeks. He was surprised you hadn’t noticed them, especially with how much you loved to run your fingers through his hair. Although, he loved it just as much, maybe even more.

God, he needed to get rid of these before you saw them. He was sure you had some tweezers around here somewhere. He opened up your drawer, rifling around for your tweezers. Bingo. His hands gripped the small piece of metal, a triumphant smile on his face.

It was only once he looked back up into the mirror, determined to fix this issue before you woke up, that he noticed you padding into the bathroom. Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you wrapped your arms around his middle.

“Mornin’.” You hummed, laying your cheek against his bicep, smiling sweetly at him through the mirror.

“Mornin’.” He said, clearing his throat.

“What do you need those for?” You asked, eyeing the tweezers in his hand. Caught red handed, he tried coming up with some excuse.

“Nothin’ sweetheart.” He said, giving you his signature smile, kissing your forehead. He slipped the tweezers into his pocket for safe keeping, at least until he had a free moment without you around. After all those years on the run and he could come up with nothing, Hosea would have been so disappointed in his lack of an answer. He swore he could hear the old man chastising him now.

“For a former outlaw you sure are an awful liar.” You tutted, shaking your head, slipping your fingers into his pocket and pulling out the tweezers.

“Well it ain’t my fault,” He huffed playfully, “Could never get nothin’ past you anyway.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. You removed your hands from around his waist, leaning back on the sink as you looked up at him.

“Spill.” You said raising an eyebrow, your arms crossed over your chest.

Knowing he’d been caught, Arthur hung his head, a low sigh leaving his lips.

“It’s just-“ He cursed, turning to look away from you, “Well I’m goin’ gray.” He admitted, not meeting your eyes.

“And?” You asked in such a nonchalant manner.

“And?” He asked looking up at you, his brows furrowed.

“So you have some gray hairs.” You said with a shrug, “You’re acting like the damn world is ending.” You chuckled softly, a smile tugging on your lips.

“Well-“ Arthur sighed, pursing his lips, he didn’t want to be vain but damn it, it did feel like the world was ending.

“Honey.” You said softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Ain’t nothing wrong with some gray hairs.” You said, shaking your head, looking so goddamn patient as always. What he did in a past life to deserve you he would never know, he definitely didn’t deserve you in this one. You smiled, running your thumb over his couple day old stubble. He couldn’t help but sigh softly, leaning into your touch.

“Just makes me feel old ‘s all.” He shrugged, closing his eyes.

“Arthur.” You said softly, he opened his eyes. His bright azure pools looking into yours. “Getting old means we’re still alive.” You said pointedly, not missing the way your fingers trailed lightly down his chest.

He sighed softly, anyone who said he was the most like Hosea had obviously never had a one on one conversation with you. You had shared the same dry wit along with being just as wise as the old man. Sometimes he wondered if the two of you were more closely related than just being adopted by him as a kid.

As your hand settled over his heart, he couldn’t help but remember a time when you didn’t have this place. When his next breath had been an undeserved blessing. When you and Charles had pulled his broken body off that godforsaken mountain. You were right, he should be grateful for these gray hairs and new lines on his face. Should be grateful that he made it this far out west with you, where the air was dryer and slowly his lungs didn’t hurt as bad with each breath.

If anything he should be grateful that you’re here, here in this house. The house that he built specifically for you. That you’re not buried six feet under like most of the fellow gang members. That you didn’t catch a bullet like Lenny or Sean, how he wished they could have had the chance to grown old. Even as mouthy as Sean was, the poor bastard didn’t deserve that. Lenny was just a boy, foolish enough to be sucked in by Dutch’s silver tongue. He shook his head trying to clear any thoughts of the past.

God, along with the fact that somehow both of you still happen to be standing, the fact that you chose to stand by him after everything you went through makes his head swim. You could have left him at any point, hell he had begged you to leave after his death sentence. And yet, here you were.

“Guess you’re right.” He said, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Course I am.” You teased, a smile spreading across your face. You leaned forward, brushing your nose against his. He accepted your silent invitation, pressing his lips against yours. So soft and warm and inviting. He could feel you smile against his lips. That small smile warmed him from the inside out, nearly making his toes curl.

Jesus, he was lucky. More than lucky, he still couldn’t figure out how he had tricked you into marrying him. He wanted to be the best version of himself for you, he had made a promise to try every day to be a better man for you. You shouldn’t be tied down to a miserable old fool like himself.

As if you could read his mind, which he often suspected you could, your soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Besides,” You began as you pulled away, “I like the salt and pepper look.” Arthur scoffed, shaking his head.

“Really?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Really.” You nodded, running your hand through his hair. “Think you get more handsome every day.” If anyone was getting prettier every day it was you. Your hair was longer, cascading down your shoulders in waves. No longer tied up in a tight braid or bun. You looked relaxed, at peace. You became softer once you both settled into your new lifestyle. Not just emotionally, although you still had that fire which had first drawn him towards you, like a moth to a flame. You were physically softer, your harsh edges smoothing out as you started to eat and sleep better. Your curves became more prominent, and he certainly didn’t mind having more to hold onto late at night.

Maybe you truly did feel the same about him. He had never known you to lie. A blush settled on his cheeks at the thought. He shook his head, a small chuckle rumbling through his chest.

“Yeah, alright darlin’.” He says taking your face in his hands, kissing you again before you had the chance to embarrass him further.

Maybe getting old wasn’t so bad if you had someone to grow old with.

[heavenlymorals]

I feel like a lot of people forget that the Van Dir Linde gang was actually famous in their universe- Dutch Van Dir Linde was as famous as the real life Butch Cassidy. The gang had as much infamy as the Wild Bunch or the Dalton gang. Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Bill Williamson, Javier Esculla, Lenny Summers, Charles Smith, Sean McGuire and more were probably as famous as the real life Doc Holliday, Jesse James, Black Bart, Rufus Buck, Ike Clanton, the Sundance Kid, Wild Bill Hickock, and more.

Sadie Adler would've been just as famous. She was a gunslinger like the real life Calamity Jane and Anne Oakley and she was an outlaw at one point like Laura Bullion, Pearl Hart, Belle Star, The Cassidy Sisters, and more.

The other women of the camp would've probably been less popular but still very intriguing figures to people in the future.

In the newspapers, we see that there are songs about Dutch's boys and books too. Trelawny mentions them being on dime novels. In the future, the pieced together story of the Van Dir Linde gang might've gotten adapted into a movie, similar to "Butch Cassidy and the Sun Dance Kid" or "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford". They could've gotten biopics, documentaries, and more.

Historians and fans of the wild West era would dig up records, find pictures, and maybe even track down people who were apart of the gang, accomplices to the gang, or victims of the gang. They would try to piece together stories to figure out the mystery of what actually happened to the gang.

People would argue over things that happened in the gang and have their evidence to back it up. Letters written by gang members would become so valuable. If they ever someone come across Arthur's journal, it would probably be considered one of the most valuable pieces of documentation to ever exist for that time period.

The guns of the gang would probably be kept in museums if found. Albert Mason's portrait of Arthur Morgan would be found in history books, same as other pictures.

Dutch would probably be a very controversial figure in history- some would hail him as a failed hero and others would condemn his violence no matter the reason- they wouldn't know what the people in the gang knew- especially in the end. Same with the rest of the gang members.

They'd probably all get romanticized. Hosea and Dutch's friendship, the raising of the boys, Dutch and Annabelle and his fued with Colm, Mary and Arthur, John and his family, Javier being a revolutionary- no one would know the full story.

And then there is Jack- he may live to see the 1960s and 70s and 80s. He may have grandchildren who'd pull him into a theater to watch a retelling of the gang that he was a part of at one point. He'd be amused. He'd think that the actor playing his father was too clean looking, too pretty. He'd think that the movie Arthur was too skinny. He'd think that the man playing Dutch had a funny voice as he tried to mimic the accent. He'd laugh and make notes in his head of the historical accuracy. He'd feel sorrowful at the deaths of the characters- he knew them at some point. And no one at the theater would know that the old man with the rowdy bright eyed boys who brought him there was Jack Marston, the last of the Van Dir Linde gang.

Jack might talk about it to the public. He might do interviews. He might even write a book about his father, the infamous John Marston. Those would be priceless. Even Beecher's Hope might be kept around and visited as a historical site for history goers.

And honestly? It is such a bittersweet thing.

[verdemoun]

I’m sorry but can you imagine the impact Isaac’s death had on the rest of the gang. No one knowing what to do but watching Arthur change. Arthur losing himself, drinking constantly, going through episodes of uncontrollable rage to being emotionally vacant, where he asks Hosea (post-Bessie) if he’ll ever feel anything again. Nights where they think they can hear Arthur crying in his closed tent, and there’s an unspoken fear they could lose him. Fear that Arthur is going to die with his son, whether it’s drinking or increasingly reckless missions where it feels like he’s not trying to dodge bullets, or if one day he’s going to go off on a hunting trip and be found months later as a corpse with a gun still in his hand.

But he somehow pulls through. Recovers, or represses the grief enough to masquerade as okay. Starts smiling again.

John not understanding how devastating that grief could be until he’s holding his own son - a tiny fragile baby and knowing he already loves him too much. He doesn’t know how to be a parent, he doesn’t know how it’s possible to love something so much. He does know he could never be as strong as Arthur, because if anything happened to that tiny baby he wouldn’t be able to live. It’s terrifying, knowing something so small could destroy him. So he puts up walls: maybe it's not his baby. Still loves him. Tries to avoid Abigail and the baby. Still loves him.

He has to leave. Before that baby kills him.

[nthspecialll]

I think we sometimes as a fandom tend to hyper-focus on certian characters' backgrounds simply because we like the character when in reality other characters who might not be as interesting has way better backstories, because no, Javier, Arthur and John are not the only ones with sad backstories

Like why does no one talk about what happened to Leopold's sister? Why does no one talk about young Lenny tracking down and killing folk? Why does no one talk about Javier actually in a way working for the government for a while and the reason why he killed that powerful military man? Why does no one talk about why Dutch is called Dutch and not by his actual first name? Why does no one talk about Bill's worst childhood fear coming true? Why does no one talk about both Swanson and Micah saving Dutch's life or that Tilly is also a murderer?

Anyways here is a full explanation of all the Van Der Linde gang members backstories.

Sean MacQuire

Sean Macquire and his father lived in Ireland possibly with more family but had to flee because the English (who were at the time in charge of ireland) were chasing them. They fled for their lives and they were in Boston for a month before his dad was shot in his sleep, showing the remaining Sean that there was truly no honor or shame in the world.

He was then sent to a reform school, which we all know was abusive and a living hell, so he ran, living as a low-life thief, he was a teenager, when he in a bar somewhere in North Elizabeth saw Dutch and Hosea and liked Dutch's watch. He followed the two into an alleyway and threatened them at gunpoint, however they laughed at him and told him to shoot, so he did, except the two others had noticed him first and taken the bullets from his gun. Sean started crying, thinking they were going to kill him but instead of doing that they gave him a home, a place to belong.

Lenny Summers

Lenny's grandparents as well as parents were slaves and his mother was born on a cotton field and taken away from his grandmother, who hadn't even known she was pregnant, immediately. His grandmother was then told to simply get back to work.

After the civil war, the old overseer kept making advandages towards Lenny's grandmother, to a point that in the end she needed to kill him and just barely escaped being lynched. Lenny's mother never saw the grandmother again.

Lenny's mother later met Mr Summers who was an educated man and taught Lenny to both read and write, however when Lenny was 15, his dad was beaten to death by several drunk men. Lenny stole a gun, tracked and hunted down the men, shooting them and showing no remorse even years later.

Kieran Duffy

Kieran Duffy's father was an Irishman who came to America with a dream of farming. It was there that he met Kieran's mother and not long after having Kieran, they both passed due to Cholera and not shortly after that the stables that he worked at to support himself threw him out. He decided to join the army to support himself but it didn't last long before he quit due to it "not working out well."

After returning from the army, he fell into work with a bunch of unnamed outlaws, though they all passed away, leaving him alone once again.

At some point he ran into the O'Driscolls who gave him a choice, to ride with them or to get killed, esencially forcing him to join them and work as a stable hand for them, though he was at the bottom of the latter simply working with the horses before being kidnapped by Arthur Morgan and joining the Van Der Linde gang.

Leopold Strauss

Leopold Strauss was born into severe poverty in Austria and his family struggled heavily with food. By the time that Strauss was only twelve, his older brother was beating up nightwatch men for whatever cash and food scraps they had on them. By that time Strauss's father had already sold his younger sister Anna, by the age of nine, into bonded labour to be able to provide for the rest of the family.

When Stauss was seventeen he was sent with his uncle to the US due to health problems, however the hellish sight of Brooklyn gave Strauss's uncle a heart attack on the spot, leaving Strauss alone in a forgein country. To survive he began doing illegal money scams and after doing so for years Dutch picked him up.

Tilly Jackson

Tilly Jackson was the daughter of a slave and became an outlaw by the mere age of twelve, running with a gang called the Foreman brothers who kidnapped her but after murdering the leaders cousin after he made advandages on her, she had to flee. She returned to her mothers workplace but found that she had already passed.

Later Tilly ran into Dutch Van Der Linde and as he was already taking care of John Marston and Arthur Morgan, he took her in, becoming just as much as a father figure to her as to the boys.

Micah Bell

Micah Bell was born directly into a life of crime as his father Micah Bell jr was a petty but ruthless and violent outlaw. Already when Micah was 17 him and his father were on run from the law as they had slid Jean and Roscoe Briggs throats and later hung them as well. His father was also his primary partner in crime, however he also seemed to have teamed up with his brother Amos a few times as well, however Amos regretted his past life and started a proper one with wife and children and threatened to kill Micah if he came close.

Micah had several partners in crime later in life, including Joe and Cleet who appears later in the game, as well as a fellow named Norman.

Micah runs into Dutch Van Der Linde in 1898 in a bar as Dutch is trying to sell some stolen goods, however the deal doesn’t work out and Micah steps in to help Dutch and save his life, earning a place in the gang.

Bill Williamson

Bill Williamson, also known as Marion Williamson, was born into an abusive family with a father who lost his mind to alchohol, even going to the point of mixing moonshine with whiskey. Watching this Bill always feared falling in love with liquor and suffering the same fate.

Bill always showed signs of being more of a troubled kid and being sent to a reform school did not stop him from building s solid criminal record as a kid.

Bill would later apply to the military and serve in the 15th infantry, fighting against the native americans before being dishonorably discharged for deviancy and attempted murder in 1892. For a year after he lived rough, truly falling in love with liqour and stealing from people om the side of the roads, one time being robbed himself by a "woman" (likely a cross dresser or genderqueer person).

In 1893 Bill tried to rob Dutch and got angry as the man simply laughed at him, however he calmed down as he was allowed a spot in the Van Der Linde gang.

Daniel(?) "Dutch" Van Der Linde

Dutch's mother was an english woman named Greta and his father a dutch man who lived somewhere near Philadelphia who fought in the civil war and died, which is why Dutch hated southeners.

Dutch's nickname rumors to come from his father's desperate attempt at keeping touch with his ancerstory.

When he was 15, he left home due to troubles with his mother whom he never got along with and simply saw him as a disobedient and troubled kid. He wished for freedom above all so to gain this he started a life of crime and in mid 1870 met Hosea Matthews.

Hosea Matthews

Hosea was born in around 1844 and lived the majority of his earlier life in the mountians, growing to love fishing and hunting. His father was mostly absent, living a life of "sin and debauchery that would make an emperor blush." Hosea saw his dad only about three times in his life but loved him none the less.

He tried to make his way with comedy as a stage actor, however he turned to petty thieft, stealing from his audience and later others in town. He was caught by the sheif stealing a chicken and sentenced to be hanged. Luckiy for Hosea the town folk saw it as a punishment too cruel and a riot broke out which ended with someone shooting the noose around Hosea's neck, allowing him to flee.

Mid 1870 Hosea found Dutch sitting by a campfire and decided to rob him, however found that Dutch had already robbed him. Hosea feared for a moment for his life but it ended with the two of them laughing it off and teaming up.

Molly O'Shea

Molly O'Shea was born into a wealthy Irish family, set up to live a proper and educated life, however she quickly got bored and showed little interest in the life set up for her, so she ran off to America in search of adventure and excitment. At some point she ran into Dutch Van Der Linde and found an interest in him and his life style, only to later genuiently fall in love with him.

Arthur Morgan

Arthur Morgan was born to Beatrice and Lyle Morgan in northen US. His mother died in his early life and he never really got along with his father whom there are rumors was abusive. Lyle lived a life of petty crime and was arrested and executed. Arthur saw his father die and although not having the best relationship, Arthur kept his father's hat and picture.

In 1877 Arthur was 14 and a wild delinquent. He ran into Dutch and Hosea, being picked up and taken under their wing, taught not only the ways of crime but also skills like reading, writing, hunting and so on.

Uncle

Uncle was born in Ohio (insert Penelope Braithwaithe shutter) with the only family present being his parents who died when he was nine and an "uncle" named Jeb whom Uncle hints at being a pedofile.

After his parents death he was on his own and was forced to a new city where he had to care for himself, and from that time to the game start in 1899, we know he has been married at least twice.

Uncle tells many stories of his past such as going to Africa and being worthshipped like a god by the locals, however the truth of these stories are highly doubted due to his tendency to lie. He does tell stories of being a "one shot kid" in his younger days, the truth of these also being doubted, however it may have been his tricket into the Van Der Linde gang.

Susan Grimsaw

Along with Hosea, Dutch and Arthur Susan was one of the founding memebers of the Van Der Linde gang, having run into Dutch during a poker game where both he and she found interest in one another, causing the curious couple and their unruly son to stay in the area a bit longer, paying poker long into the night while Susan sat on Dutch's lap.

Having gotten into a romantic relationship with Dutch, Susan was allowed to join the small group and even stayed when Dutch moved on to Annabelle, now serving as a form of housemother, making sure that people did their work, took properly care of themselves and made camp feel like home.

You can also hear Susan talking to Mary-Beth one time in camp, admitting that she had a fiance once however he went to heaven.

John Marston

John Marston was born in 1873 to an illiterate scottish father born on the boat to New York and a prositute mother who died during his birth. At first John lived with his father who constantly spoke of Scotland and his love for the country, however he was blinded in a bar fight south of Chicargo and later died when John was eight. The true cause of his father's death is unknown however John was told it was a barfight.

John spent a few years in an orphanage before running off and living on his own, at the mere age of eleven commiting his first murder by shooting a man, though he claims it was not his fault.

At the age of twelve John had been caught stealing from homesteaders who planned to have him hanged, however Dutch stepped in and took him under his wing.

Orville Swanson

Swanson used to wrok as a Clergyman but after indulging in the "earthly pleasures", being seduced by alchohol and sex, he lost his family, job and in the end faith, though he desperately tried to regain it.

At some point or another he fell in love with a woman named Margaret, though she was already married, so he simply added bigamy to the list of sins he had already commited. When the two of them were in San Fransisco, the law finally caught up wth them and while she fled onto a ship headed for Shanghai he was stuck and never saw her again.

Under unknown circomstances Swanson came to save Dutch's life and due to Dutch's debt to Swanson he was allowed to join the gang.

Mary-Beth Gaskill

Being a woman of good nature, Mary-Beth did not struggle getting close to her victims after having found herself needing to find a living in the streets. Due to her looks and personality she could with ease fool the richer men into thinking they were saving a poor maiden in need while her fingers slipped into their pockets.

It was through this that Mary-Beth got in trouble with not just the law but her victims as well. One night she had gotten a few foul men on her tail that she ran into the Van Der Linde gang who saved her and asked her to join them.

Charles Smith

Charles Smith was born to a Native Mother and a free African American father, all three of them living fairly happily with his mothets tripe together with a few other free men before the US army chased them away.

They continued to live together but a few years later Charles' mother was captured by the army, leading Charles' father to fall into alcoholism and a deep depression.

At the mere age of 13 Charles left his father and began to live on his own, becoming a supreme survivalist from an early age.

Some point during the late 1898 ran into the Van Der Linde gang in the Grizzlies and joined them.

Simon Pearson

Simon Pearson's family were whale hunters and although Pearson wished to follow in their footsteps it did not go that way due to the whale industry having lessened by the time that he got out of school. Having been forced to look for new employment options, Pearson joins the Navy where he even managed to get stranded for fifty days on a ship filled with plauge, watching his friends and coworkers slowly drop one by one.

After having returned from the Navy Pearson begins to struggle financially and takes a loan, however unable to pay it off loansharks comes after him and it is during one of these attempts at getting to Pearson that the Van Der Linde gang saves him and brings him to camp as a cook.

Abigail Marston

Abigail Marston, originally born Abigail Roberts, was orphaned at a young age and started roaming around bars, scraping whatever few coins she could take from folk before starting a work of prostitution, making an earning by selling her body and at some point running into Uncle at a bar who introduced her to the gang.

Now living with the gang, Abigail still worked as a prositute up until falling pregnant with Jack Marston by John Marston.

Josiah Trelawny

Josiah Trelawny was born in England though he has no memories of his life there, he later imigated to America where he starts working as a conman and trickster. It was during this line of work that he met yhe Van Der Linde gang and joined them bur with a special advandage as he, unlike the others, was allowed to appear and disappear as he pleased, always knowing when Dutch planned to cut him off and return with a big hit.

Josiah has a family living in Saint Denis concisting of a wife and two sons named Tarquin and Cornelius. Just as with the gang, he would disappear on them for months.

Karen Jones

Karen Jones lived as a scam artist in her early years and absolutely loved the outlaw lifestyle and hoped for a bit more which partly drove her to accept the Van Der Linde gang's invitation, hoping to achieve more.

Javier Escuella

Javier Escuella was born in Mexico to a drunkard father who worked for Allende' (a main antagonist in rdr1, a military man) uncle. When he was young he saw his own uncle as well as four other separate men get casterated and fed to pigs for simply suggesting fair wages for their work.

Javier moved on to become a violent and known bounty hunter and revolutionary, fighting against what he saw as a corupt system.

Javier ended up killing a powerful former military man for a woman that he loved, fearing for his loved ones life he fled to America where he knew no english and had no work or food, leaving him starving.

It was in America that he ran into Dutch as they both were trying to steal the same chickens. Dutch took Javier in, fed him, gave him a family and a life, leading Javuer to idiolize Dutch also for his revolutionary ideals.

At some unknown point someone attempted to kill Javier, leading to him having a prominent scar on his throat.

Sadie Alder

Sadie Alder grew up in a harsh envioment and from a very early age learned how to hunt and ride to care for herself, things that Jack Adler fell in love with. The two of them married september 1896, moving to a ranch in Ambarino where they had three happy years of marriage before the O'Driscolls arrived at their cabin.

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Henlo! If it's alright, could I request some headcanons for Arthur, Dutch, Hosea, Micah, and Kieran being told that their S/O has been killed by the O'Driscolls? But nobody can find their body because it turns out they survived and took care of the worst of their injuries before making it back a week or so later. I am a sucker for hurt/comfort content. Thank you for your time and hope you're doing well.

HC For VDL Boys Being Told Their S/O Was Killed By O'Driscolls Ft. Arthur Morgan, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Micah Bell, Kieran Duffy

Ohhh nice and angsty

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of violence, angst

Arthur Morgan

He would be absolutely broken

I don't think he'd go as far as to go out and kill O'Driscolls for revenge

But a new cavity in his heart would open up, and his hatred of the O'Driscolls would intensify

He wouldn't be able to get out of bed, would be incapable of taking care of himself, needs people to remind him to eat

Constantly scribbling in his journal about you

Probably the first time anyone in camp has seen him cry in a long long time

Only thing he'd get up for was to go in searches for your body

Is incredibly anxious the entire time they're looking for you and tries to mentally prepare himself for the sight of your body in who knows what state of decomposition

Once you return he'd think you're an apparition

He would be absolutely over the moon and crying tears of joy and relief

Interrogates you about your time gone but doesn't push it if the memories are too painful, you can visit that later

Helps mend any of your remaining injuries

Incredibly protective of you now and refused to let you go off on your own for a while

Holds you so so closely in bed the following nights, absolutely blots out the rest of the world with his body because he's scared if he lets go you'll disappear again

Dutch Van Der Linde

Like Arthur, he'd be destroyed as well

His mourning would cause him to jump to the anger stage immediately

Colm has already taken one lover from him, and now he's done it again? Tensions between the two gangs would be higher than ever before

He'd use the presumed death as an excuse to target Colm and the O'Driscolls for the week

Used the search for your body as an opportunity to interrogate and torture O'Driscolls. For once, he tells Arthur to back off so he can get blood on his hands

Despite everyone else's warnings, he just keeps on going and killing more O'Driscolls

When you finally return, he feels like he's hallucinating you because of his grief, and anger

Allows everyone else a moment to check over you before ushering you over to the privacy of his tent

Allows Ms. Grimshaw to follow so she can clean you up while he talks to you

Holds your hand the entire time and looks into your eyes while reassuring you that he'll never allow that to happen again

Insists you don't lift a finger for weeks afterward

Does NOT tell you about what he did while you were gone and simply speaks of his grief and his now relief that you're back

Hosea Matthews

He'd be grieving, but silently

He wouldn't be MIA like Arthur, and he definitely wouldn't be blinded by rage like Dutch

But he'd be a lot quieter, understandably, and you'd be able to see the deep sadness in his eyes

He didn't expect to lose a second lover, and his heart is heavy with feelings of loss

Would spend a lot of time talking about you to anyone who'll listen, mostly good memories

Turns down any of Dutch's suggestions to go out and take revenge, sees right through his attempts to use your presumed death as an excuse to kill a bunch of O'Driscolls

When you return he is all over you and is overjoyed by your presence

Takes care of all your injuries on his own and holds you sooo close the entire time

Reminds you how much he loves you because he feels like he didn't do it enough before he thought he lost you

Spends so much more time around you. If he wasn't attached to you by the hip before, he definitely is now

I don't think he'd doubt your ability to handle yourself; in fact, it'd probably be enforced by the fact you kept yourself alive for a week. But there'd be a lingering anxiety every time you go out

Micah Bell

Similar to Dutch, he'd go out and kill a shit ton of O'Driscolls

His grief translates to anger, and because I can't see him as a very sentimental person besides in terms of anger, that's the only way he'd express it

Probably wouldn't cry or show moments of vulnerability, but he'd be a lot more brutal in his killings

He'd spend a lot of time away from camp with Dutch probably looking for your body

Wouldn't return to camp for days

So you'd probably return to camp while he's gone, so everyone else tends to you before Micah can

When he returns he insists everyone else get away from you so he can take his own look at you

I wanna say you wouldn't receive a big welcome back gesture from Micah besides a rare shred of vulnerability where he tells you how happy he is to see you back

Don't get too mushy over it or else he'll backtrack

Kieran Duffy

He'd be HYSTERICAL

On his knees crying and wailing in the middle of camp while people try to comfort him

Would be the same level as MIA as Arthur and wouldn't talk to ANYONE

Spends all his time around the horses and doesn't talk to anyone

If anyone does try to talk to him he just stares off silently in the opposite direction

The gang could probably hear him sobbing silently at night while trying to sleep

Drinks himself half dead because he doesn't know how else to cope

Drinks so often that when you come back he doesn't think you're real for a few minutes

It's a huge moment of vulnerability between the two of you where you see each other at your lowest

But it would definitely bring the two of you closer! After the two of you have cleaned yourselves up and taken care of yourselves, you'd have long, deep conversations about what you went through and how happy you are to be back

Lots of reaffirming his love for you, never leaves your side

Insists he comes with you every time you go out. Thinks he wouldn't be able to do much in terms of protecting you, but the sentiment is so so sweet

Becomes more of a way of comforting himself and quelling his own anxiety

[sourbvgs]

rdr2 boys reacting to you getting mauled by an animal

characters (not in order) arthur, john, sean, javier, hosea, dutch, kieran, charles

tags: gore/blood, different animals attacking reader, hurt/comfort, past abigail/john, crying, angst, near death experiences, broken bones

✧─── ★: *.✦ .* :★ ───✧

arthur | snake bite

he wasn’t actually in camp when you got bit on watch

a snake had snuck up on you and bit your leg, and whilst the poison was drained quickly by hosea’s quick thinking, you were still in rough shape

arthur comes back, money in his bag, and he puts it into the cache before looking to hosea who’s calling for him.

“it’s y/n… she’s not doing too well. snake got her.” he’ll explain, and arthur is immediately by your side.

he sits beside you, massaging your leg, taking your temperature, getting you food- whatever you want he’ll get you

will 100% not leave camp until youre better.

as soon as you’re up and on your feet he’ll let you lend his book to learn about snakes and such so the same thing doesn’t happen twice.

he will quietly admit how worried he was and how he was sorry he wasn’t there to immediately aid you. you smile and assure him it’s okay, give him a kiss and get back to helping pearson.

will 100 percent get rid of any snakes near camp.

-

sean | wolf attack

the two of you are out camping after you begged him to take you up near ambarino to get some plants for your work

sean begrudgingly agrees, but is now regretting it.

it will soon by nighttime and the two of you are having to camp in the wilderness

he’s very uncharacteristically worried, keeping the fire low to prevent any animals seeing it.

you start assuring him that everything’s gonna be fine when a howl interrupts you.

sean’s tense, rifle ready as he listens.

surely enough, a wolf pack comes barrelling into your makeshift camp, and sean immediately shoots.

you scramble to grab your pistol from your bag, a stray wolf jumping you

it left you with a large bite upon your jugular and scratches along your body

sean notices your pained shouts and immediately shoots the oversized dog, luckily the rest don’t like their odds and retreat.

he’s immediately by your side, defensives still raises in case they come back.

“it’s okay, darlin’. i got you. fuck..-“

is panicking so hard

quickly composes himself and rips up his shirt, tying your wounds as he cradles you close.

“i’m so sorry, baby. i’m so sorry.” he’ll whisper, leaning his head to yours as you whimper in pain

with your meek instructions, he’ll make you something to ease the pain.

panics when you pass out, but let’s you sleep and keeps a close eye on your breathing

as soon as you’re back in camp, he gets strauss and susan to look at you, explaining what happened. doesn’t care if people give him slack for ‘not protecting you’, will fight them even.

holds you close out of fear of you getting attacked again. doesn’t let you leave camp without a rifle or a strong revolver anymore

-

john | gator attack

you had spotted little jack near the swamp water, and your heart lurches as a pair of slit eyes stare back at him

you immediately snatch him up, throwing him from the bank as the gator lunges

jack, as he would, starts to scream, and everyone comes running

there’s a thrash and blood in the water, yet luckily you had your knife on you and killed the gator

abigail holds her son close as the men jump in to help, specifically arthur, john and charles

when john realises it’s you his blood runs cold and he’s on the brink of tears.

you push them away, rising up and getting out of the water, clothes doused in swamp muck and blood

you’ve got a large bite shredding through your side as you stumble up onto the bank

hosea immediately gets you to a tent and the camp attends your wounds

abigail thanks you countless times for your selflessness and quick thinking, and jack gifts you a pinecone he found earlier on as a get well soon gift

john is the last one to visit your tent, a guilty, kicked puppy look in his brown eyes

you beckon him over softly, and he immediately sits beside you, holding your hand

tells you all sorts of shit like how “it should of been me” and how he’s sorry

you shut him down and kiss his knuckles, saying how you’d do it again in a heartbeat

gives you a kiss and, much like arthur, will not leave your side until you’re better, will bring you plenty of stuff; whatever you ask for he brings you

-

javier | cougar attack

he hears it before he sees it, and just as he turns your horse bucks you and your arms being mauled

he immediately jumps off of his own horse, shooting the cougar and pulling its carcass from you.

you’re crying, because let’s be honest anyone probably would, and he immediately crouches down, hugging you tightly

wraps his poncho around the bite on your wounded arm, kissing it to try and ease you

you got off lucky, and he knows it, stays more alert when you’re both out and about

when you get to camp, he won’t let anyone else aid you. he’s good with his hands, he knows how to stitch

bandages your wound too, he’d do anything for you.

you smile and kiss his cheek, explaining how you’re a little shaken but grateful that he insisted to come along with you.

on the plus side the pelt was amazing quality and he gets it made into a nice bedroll for your saddle <3

-

charles | gila monster bite

the two of you were taking a week to travel and gather information and supplies for the gang

you were stood gathering certain plants sprouting from the humid desert floor when charles hears your yell of pain

is immediately there, watching you shoot the lizard

“did it bite you?” he’ll ask, grasping your hand. “yes… fuck- i didn’t see it- i must of spooked it, i’m sorry.” you’re panicking, which is never good.

your hand is swelling and charles leaps into action, keeping you calm as he leads you back to the makeshift camp he was setting up, not caring how the tent was slumped and not put up properly, he’d deal with that later

you start to cry due to the burn and how sick you feel, and charles nods sympathetically, draining your hand carefully

gives you some medication and a self made medicinal mix to help you feel better

your fever doesn’t go down, and you’re tired, but you’re not vomiting, not trembling in anyway, and your hand is becoming calmer

let’s you rest, keeps an eye out for any other threats. keeps insisting mentally that you’ll be fine but hes very anxious

insists that you both go back to camp so that herr strauss could look at it and give you proper medicine, but he lets you rest first before riding out.

sorry dutch, but your health comes first to charles

-

kieran | coyote attack

he wasn’t actually there when it happened, no one was

you had stumbled into camp all bloody and bit and the poor boy doesn’t even know you’re back until abigail starts shouting for help

does not leave your side, is muttering under his breath that he can’t lose another love, how he refuses to let anything happen to you- it takes dutch and hosea giving him a talk to calm him down

doesn’t let you out of his sight, watches everyone closely as they tend to you

gently strokes your cheek as you whimper in pain, assuring you how you’re going to be okay and that you’re in good hands

as soon as you’re all patched up, he hugs you and insists that he’s coming with you next time you’re out

even if you resist his words, he’ll come with you anyway

definitely holds a grudge against coyotes after that absolute heart attack he had seeing you covered in blood

he’s not great with aim, so he won’t hunt them, but he definitely steers clear.

if you’re both riding together, this boys a merchant with horses and keeps them both calm until you’re both safe

-

hosea | bharati grizzly bear attack

both you and hosea know you’re an amazing hunter, so he brings you on a trip with arthur to hunt a big bear he had saw

you were excited, you loved hunting, especially with hosea

arthur seems pretty stoked too, happily following behind you both as you trot together

you help out, readying your rifle nearby when the battered bear charges suddenly

you pushed hosea out of the way, the bear’s teeth snags your arm, claws digging into your torso

as it goes for your throat, both hosea and arthur shoot it, causing it to retreat

hosea is swearing loudly, apologising to you profusely as he sits beside you, helping you up

hastily grabs some rags from arthur’s satchel, wrapping your deep wounds

he doesn’t take you back to camp, he takes you to an actual doctor asap as arthur insists on staying and hunting the behemoth of a bear

you meekly wish him luck, leaving with your anxious lover

he won’t stop apologising, explaining how he just froze due to fear, and that you should of just let him get jumped

“i’d never let you get attacked, love. we’re a team, remember?” you mutter, slouched into his back as your horse follows behind

he has the money, the bonds, he pays this doctor top dollar to get you into peak physical form

you both go back to camp later in the day, and arthur had come back already, no scratches, much to your relief

you tell everyone what had happened, finding some humour in the new story you could tell, much to hosea’s bruised ego

-

dutch | horse kick

you had offered to help brush the count, and foolishly, dutch agreed

just as you were about to brush the muck from the elegant horse’s feet, he kicked your arm sharply, breaking it

you yell, obviously, and dutch immediately swoops to your aid

“ah, see darlin’ i said to be careful.” he scolds, not realising your arm is literally broken

as the day goes on, you can’t use your arm at all, and dutch starts to feel bad, but doesn’t assume it’s broken

you go the whole damn day without telling anyone, working through the pain until you literally can’t move your hand and shamefully go to hosea

dutch feels terrible when hosea says you’ve most likely broken your arm, a large bruise where the count had kicked you evident on your skin

you’re out of action until you’re better, dutch will see to that, on the bright side, he sits beside you and reads to you so you don’t feel bad

susan makes you a sling, and you feel even worse, but dutch kisses you and all the shame melts away

makes sure you’re always careful around the count from now on, neither of you need any broken limbs

[inky125]

Mary Linton and Jack Marston meeting in 1922

Okay but these are just my headcanons for the very improbable scenario that they end up bumping into each other in the future. / My headcanons for what they would do with their lives after the events of rdr/rdr2

(I'm going to explain them under the cut)

Okay so, starting with Jack:

I want to believe Jack lived a more or less normal life after killing Ross, successfully getting away with this one (1) murder, and having that as a skeleton in his closet. Not finding peace really, so the whole revenge thing doesn't fix his miserable life but he can go on to try to do something with his life. Gunslinging doesn't really have a place anymore here.

When the US joined WWI I know that boy DID NOT join the US Army, he would NEVER join the group that killed his dad, or make the same mistake as him and make a deal with the government. He would rather be jailed for dodging the draft, what will they do, threaten him with what? He has nothing to live for really, so they can't make him. I don't think he cares much if he gets shot (he has a like saying as much in rdr when he duels Ross).

After the whole jail thing he'd go back to a more or less normal life, I'd guess he would have to have a regular job and write whenever he's able (I want to believe that one Easter egg in GTA is canon...it is to me...), but I don't think he'd be able to make a living just from writing.

As for Mary, I always wondered why Mary was dressed the way she was during the credits cut scene in Rdr2. Because I'm guessing it takes place in 1907 (given that most cut scenes appear to happen at the same time more or less than the epilogue). But I wondered why Mary was dressing in black; I mean, during the Victorian era there were very specific mourning traditions, especially for women. Wearing black was pretty much a part of a social thing, you'd publicly mourn. The extension of your mourning would depend on who died and what was your relationship with them.

And here is the thing, Arthur had died 8 years ago by then, we could assume Mary had found out shortly after of his dead because newspapers in the Rdr2 universe love to brag whenever law enforcement/Pinkertons kill renown outlaws. (Even Arthur and Hosea get mentioned years later in some sort of article in 1907 too). And additionally, we know that Mary kept up with how the gang, especially Arthur, was doing through the news on the newspapers. So again, it wouldn't be crazy to assume she knew about Arthur's death back in 1899.

So then, why is she wearing a black dress to visit his grave in 1907?. Black is the color of mourning, but as far as I am aware (and correct me if I'm wrong) it was not required to visit a grave back in the day. So I like to headcanon Mary mourning Arthur like a widow, because widows would have to wear their black weeds for 2 years (there were different periods of mourning, for instance Mary's clothes could be classified under the 'half-mourning' type, meaning there has been at least 6 months since her loved one passed away, meaning she could now wear some jewelry, other colours, ect.

But here is a little extra, Queen Victoria popularized among some women the practice to never abandon their period of half mourning, and especially, keep wearing black the rest of their lives even if they move on, as a sign of love for their dead husband.

Mary and Arthur never got married, but I like to think Mary lived as a widow for him. Continuing with her life as normal, of course, but always having that bittersweet ache in her heart, dressing in black out of respect and love for him and the life they couldn't have. Even if she had wanted to move on from him after she realized they couldn't be together as Arthur wouldn't leave the gang, I think she would have folded if Arthur had gone after her (I mean she did re-initiate contact after they were supposed to never speak again), and I think she was still preparing herself emotionally when she heard the news that Arthur was dead, ironically not moving on from him.

She didn't remarry, Jamie made good money and maintained her, Mary knew the kind of life she didn't want and she could be respectable and old as a widow. Plus marrying someone new at her age would be a titanic task.

I think Mary kept her mother's brooch Arthur returned for her as her reminder of him, given that she returned the picture and the ring. In fact she's wearing it when she visits Arthur's grave in-game!. So I kept that

It just warms my heart to think of the very few people left who knew about the gang finding each other in usual ways. Maybe next time I'd do Sadie or Charles. I'm just a sucker for this kind of things

[lesbian-for-arthur-morgan]

Hello! Love your work!

Can you do headcanons for Hosea with a daughter? (Or child if you'd prefer gender neutrality)

She's his kid with Bessie, and I was wondering how the two would be, growing up in the gang, how he'd be as a father, how she'd be with the other members, whatever you'd like to write!

As for her age, I'm thinking young adult during the events of the game, maybe John's age too

Thank you!

Hosea with a Child

Gender Neutral language!

Genre: Fluff! Some angst - No game spoilers Featuring: Dad!Hosea, Platonic John, Platonic Arthur Warnings: Mentions of death and grief

AN: I hope you like these! I really enjoyed writing this request it was so cute and fun to think about Hosea as a dad raising a kid in the gang <3 Thank you so much

---> Requests are open! Check out my guidelines if you have any questions!

<><><><>

Childhood Years:

According to Hosea, you were the only good thing he had ever done with his life.

Being his only child with Bessie, you were spoiled as much as he could afford. As an infant you were given the warmest blankets, the softest toys, and the most attention he could give you.

That short period of time where he left the gang was around the time that you were born after him and Bessie’s wedding. He wanted to give you a proper childhood away from the hardship of the life of an outlaw.

As he said himself, though, the life just draws you back in.

When he went back to Dutch he brought you and Bessie with him.

Hosea worshiped and adored you. Everything he did in the gang he convinced himself was for you and Bessie.

He told you the story of Robin Hood as you grew old enough to understand stories before bedtime. He’d sit you in front of the fire and smile as you gazed up at him in wonder while he told the tale of the hero who stole from the rich to give to the poor.

During the earlier years of the gang, when they still stole for the good of others in one way or another, you always thought of Hosea as Robin Hood - he was a hero to you.

You started calling Dutch “Uncle Dutch” and considered many other members of the gang as family.

You were only eight when Arthur was brought in to the group. You followed him like a shadow and it warmed Hosea’s heart to see you trying to play with another kid (even though Arthur was fourteen by this time - he was still the youngest person for you to hang around).

Since Hosea eventually started viewing Arthur as a son, you viewed him as your badass older brother.

Teen Years:

By the time you turned fifteen, you were expected to start contributing to the gang. Most of the time you were just a pickpocket. Hosea didn’t want you robbing trains or putting yourself in any real danger, and Bessie wouldn’t allow you to do anything that could taint your soul (as she would put it).

For a while you were just quick and sneaky.

Arthur watched over you whenever you went into town to grab a few coins and watches from the people walking through the streets just in case anyone caught on to your act and you needed assistance.

You whined to Hosea that you felt like he didn’t trust you to take care of yourself since Arthur was always babysitting you, Hosea said he’d figure something out. He knew you could take care of yourself, of course.

He fixed it by telling Arthur to be sneakier while he was watching you.

Once you turned sixteen, Hosea started taking you on hunting trips with him. He wanted to make sure you could take care of yourself and your mom in case anything happened to him.

“Give a man a fish, he’ll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, he’ll eat forever.” He’d say on nearly every hunting trip the two of you went on.

“But we’re hunting deer, Pop, not fishin’.” You’d correct him and he’d just wave his hand in the air as if to dismiss you. “Same concept, kid.” He’d retort.

At seventeen, John joined the Van Der Linde gang. It was the first time there was someone exactly your age near you daily that you got to interact with.

At first, John was following Arthur around like a puppy and it made you so jealous. You complained to Hosea about it, you said John was taking your brother from you and it wasn’t fair.

Hosea laughed lightly whenever you dramatically groaned and whined and told you to give it time, John would become your friend as well.

Hosea was right of course, as always. After a month or two the amazement over Arthur Morgan wore off and John became a great friend of yours.

The two of you bickered a lot, though. Being the same age and all, you were constantly at each other’s throats.

Bessie always said that you and John were like an old married couple. That comment caused you two to look at each other gag over dramatically.

Young Adulthood (around the events of the game):

When your mom, Bessie, died a part of you died with her. Hosea might as well have died too.

For a year, he never left his bed and when he did it was only to grab another bottle of whiskey to drown his sorrows in.

Some days were better than others during he grieving, but there were weeks that would go by when he couldn’t bear to look at you.

You had Bessie’s eyes and her smile. You had all the best parts of Bessie and seeing her in you but not seeing her made Hosea’s heart shatter all over again.

During this time you depended on Arthur and John to be your rocks. They were the ones who kept your focus away from the black hole of grief eating away at your insides. And during the days that the grief was too much to handle, they pat your back and held your hand while you let yourself rot away in bed.

Some nights John would come to see you when he couldn’t sleep and the two of you would cry over Bessie until you drifted out of consciousness.

Everyone felt her death deeply.

As time goes by, your wounds have healed as have Hosea’s. He sobered up and after a long crying session where all you two did was hold each other and reminisce over Bessie, you were a family again.

During the events at Blackwater, you were Hosea’s first priority. He got you packed and to safety as fast as he could once it was time to flee.

In that huge snowstorm on your way east, Hosea gave you his extra jacket and gloves to keep you warm. You rode in the wagon with Abigail and Jack, huddling with them for warmth and assuring them that John would be okay and back soon.

For a while after Blackwater, Hosea refused to let you out of his sights. After what happened with Bessie and the chaos that was that whole situation, you were the only thing he lived for. He couldn’t have anything happen to you.

You didn’t complain, either. You didn’t want to be away from him for a while. You were terrified during Blackwater, terrified you’d lose him or John or Arthur. You let him baby you and watch over you like a hawk as long as it gave his mind peace.

At Horseshoe Overlook, you went hunting with Hosea as often as you could. It was like a tradition for the two of you.

“Give a man a fish,” He’d start his lecture on the importance of learning survival skills and you’d have to stifle a groan and a laugh.

You’d probably heard that phrase nearly a million times at that point. He always said fish, too. Never changed it for whatever you were hunting.

Hosea wasn’t only your father, but your best friend. He was the best person you knew despite his occupation, and you adored him with your entire being.

He wasn’t technically a good man, but he was a great dad.

<><><><>

I hope you enjoyed these!! Thank you for reading

[babyaiker]

It’s 3:30am but I have another rant idea. As a writer myself, when I go into fiction I tend to ask why a lot. Like, what importance does this scene have, why did this event happen and how did it affect the characters. Writing isn’t real life, and every event HAS purpose, and that to me is fun to analyze ^^

So anyway

Overthinking the purpose of the different character deaths in Red Dead Redemption 2

I know I’ve talked about spoilers a fair bit without warning, but I’m not holding any punches, so

SPOILER WARNING!!

Get ready for a long rant folks, and apologies for any spelling errors I missed,

First and foremost, rdr2 is a prequel. But more importantly, rdr2 is a prequel that depicts the explicit fall of the Van Der Linde Gang. Every death serves to cement that fact, as the game strategically will take out certain characters to both break down the gang’s stability, and the players emotions.

The first thing the game does to permanently shift the tone is to kill the comic relief characters. Both Sean and Kieran, while both complex in their own rights, serve specific, almost “gimmicky” roles in the gang (funny Irishman and whipping boy). These more comical purposes unfortunately don’t fit the game’s tone in the later chapters. And while I could go on about how interesting it would have been to see these two characters dramatically change over the course of the later chapters, their deaths are what the writers used to establish the beginning of the end.

The next duo the writing team had to take out of course had to be the smart, leveled headed characters, back to back no less. While Sean and Kieran’s deaths served to change the tone for the player, Hosea and Lenny’s deaths are what changed the tone for the gang. There’s a reason the fandom jokes that if Hosea had lived, he wouldn’t have let what happened happen. Both of these characters in their own right served as important emotional pillars for the gang, especially Dutch and Arthur. They were both rational and incredibly resourceful, two traits that made them a liability to the destined fate of the gang.

Hosea’s death also now introduces us to the section where a lot of characters die because they narratively HAVE TO. Like I said, rdr2 is a prequel, and you don’t want any loose ends popping up in rdr1 cause a character was introduced and not properly wrapped up. Lenny Kieran and Sean, while had their own purposes behind their deaths, didn’t have to die BECAUSE the story was a prequel. It’s easy to rationalize that if they had lived, their lives wouldn’t have affected the plot of rdr1. Hosea however, due to his personal connection to Dutch, HAD to die. He would have absolutely been brought up in rdr1 had he survived, as he was that important to Dutch and the gang.

That goes the same for Molly and Grimshaw. Both of these characters in my opinion would have been loose ends in the first game had they survived. Their deaths did serve other purposes though,

Molly for one served as both the gang and the audience’s sign that things were never going to be ok again. She’s the first death to happen within camp by the hands of another camp member, foreshadowing at its finest.

As for Grimshaw, standing as the last gang member in camp to stand by Arthur and John, had her fate sealed the moment she lifted her gun. By now the tone and the stakes were set, everything was falling apart, and nothing can save it. Grimshaw’s death doesn’t serve to set a tone or change anything for the characters, she’s just a victim of the gang’s fall, getting shot like a dog as reward for her years of loyalty.

And of course, we now get to Arthur,

For those who played the first game, it’s safe to imagine that when going into the next game, there’s a lingering feeling that Arthur isn’t going to make it out of this. The pinnacle of rdr2 tying its loose ends if you will.

And yet you bond with Arthur. You experience the world with him, meet new people with him, you bond with the gang and your family with him. You bathe him, you feed him, you make sure he’s rested, you make him do chores, you do little errands for others with him. You watch him grow scared and doubtful, you watch his eyes grow red, his skin go pale, his cough worsen. And because of the nature of a prequel, you know this can only end one way.

Sure, maybe the writers could write him out quietly, make it so that John would have no reason to ever mention his brother. But untouched grief works well too to keep a man quiet about his loved ones.

Despite everything, despite most players knowing Arthur doesn’t get to stick around, to live a long life, to get out of this ok, we still fall in love with him, and become completely undone at the end of the game.

And Micah’s death in the epilogue, of course, just feels good. It ties up a loose end for the first game, and it gives the player all the freedom in the world to pump his ass full of lead. It’s your reward for 40 hours of cowgirl simulator hell.

And also shout out to Strauss for not ratting despite getting kicked out and tortured, secret og right there,,

—————

Alright it’s now 5am as I finished writing this, but I have 3 more deaths I wanna quickly comment on. Davey, Jenny, and Mac, right?

Due to how sparely these three are mention outside of how they mildly affected other characters, I view their deaths as essentially worldbuilding. Characters WILL die in unfortunate and unfair ways, especially if it involves the Pinkertons. Characters don’t always get to go out with a bang, you are not immune to succumbing to the elements in this game, nor are you immune to the consequences of your actions.

—————

But of course, you can write a story however you want. I can see myself being easily convinced that any of these deaths weren’t required, as it’s all really just up to how well you can write it. I wholeheartedly think that the story could’ve been benefited by the presence of Sean and or Kieran for one. Whether it be watching Sean breakdown over the stress of the gang falling apart, or watching Kieran finally become a trusted member of the gang and break out of his shell more. And hell, I think there’s something interesting in the idea that Hosea survives, but is unable to help quell Dutch’s paranoia anymore.

There’s room to argue that each death wasn’t required, but in the end, they did die, and there were good reasons behind it. Yes, even as a fan who regularly forgets Kieran died due to the amount of “he lived” AU’s bouncing around in their head, his death was cool as fuck, and both thematically and narratively made sense. It’s beautifully tragic and deeply depressing, and the religious themes only make it that more interesting. Saw him pop up in a Twitter thread of “most graphic video game deaths” and felt genuine pride-

[heyfenturd]

so i started playing rdr2 *cutely tucks hair behind ear*

also one of arthur’s famous glares

edit: im in chapter 3 btw and dutch’s vibes are RANCID and there’s death flags ALL OVER both hosea and arthur. i mean i know what happens to arthur; bro basically wears “doomed by the narrative” emblazoned booty shorts. but hosea, to me, so obviously opposes dutch in a literary sense that if dutch survives there’s no way hosea can and i get the feeling dutch survives.

i clearly haven’t ever played rdr1

[red-dead-do-over246]

Can I get some javier x reader angst with #214?

Yes! Hope you enjoy!💖

*Angst Warning*

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There's a Rat Among Us

Javier is extremely loyal to Dutch, and he won't let anything interfere with his boss's grand plan. Not even you.

#214 “I didn’t realize I was such an inconvenience.”

Beaver Hollow was as dark and empty as the gang's morale. People were turning on each other, secrets were being whispered, and lies were being told. After the death of Hosea, Micah had weaseled his way in as Dutch's right-hand man. And Dutch...he had completely turned his back on everyone who he raised. You, John, and even Arthur.

But Dutch still managed to sway the minds of even some of the most level-headed gang members.

Of course, Bill would continue to ignore the truth and stay by Dutch's side, but you were surprised by Javier's actions. He was an extremely loyal man, it was one of the reasons you loved him, but he was becoming a different person. With the way he treated you and others...it made you uneasy.

It was like Javier was becoming paranoid.

"Arthur, what's wrong?" You were busy with your horse outside of camp, finding the company of the four-legged animal to be more appealing than anyone in camp, even Javier at the moment.

"I need to leave." He muttered, voice raspy and ending with a rough-sounding cough. It made your heart break each time you heard him. It was like Arthur was withering away.

"What happened?" You asked. You knew things were shit right now, but Arthur was usually the backbone of the gang. The one who would stand up and persevere if things were to go arwy.

"Sides are being chosen...Micah's gone and convinced Dutch that there's a rat among us...Javier just got done harpin' on me about that. I need some time away from here." Arthur said, all that talking leading him to have a coughing fit. Again, your heart ached for him, but you knew better than to ask if he was alright. Arthur was never one for wanting pity or concern.

But hearing what Javier said to him...it made your blood boil.

"I'm going to go and talk to him." You said angrily. Arthur already knew who you were talking about and nodded, wishing you luck as he went to go and mount his horse. He decided that some fishing might be more peaceful.

Meanwhile, you marched back into camp like you were on the warpath. You've had it up to here with Javier's behavior. The whole camp was silent, each doing their own thing. Micah was whispering something to Dutch, the ladies were keeping to themselves, expect Karen who was drinking again, but there was one thing that would always hurt you whenever you walked back into the camp of Beaver Hollow.

No sound of Javier's singing.

No matter how upset you were right now, the pain that came with his silence would always hurt you. The camp used to always be warmed by his guitar and his singing, and now, it was void of all delightful music. It was like the man you knew really did die back on Guarma, and this is all you have left.

The shell of a man you once loved.

"Javier? Where are you?" You muttered to yourself as you peered around camp, avoiding eye contact with Micah's buddies that decided to make themselves at home. As you moved behind one of the wagons, you caught your lover leaning against a dead tree, smoking.

"What did you say to Arthur?" You cut right to the chase before he could try to swoon you with any of his charming words. But his eyes didn't even soften when he looked at you. He didn't even greet you with one of his pet names that he's given you.

"I said what needed to be said." He responded, tossing his cigarette with force as his full attention was now on you. You hated that you tensed.

"Arthur is no rat! How dare you even accuse him so!" You shouted at him, not even caring that other members of the gang were starting to stare. He narrowed his eyes, a suspicious look on his face as he gazed at you.

"Why do you care so much? Do you love Arthur now?" He accused you, and you scoffed. You couldn't believe that Javier would actually say that to you after all the time that the two of you had spent together. All that time around the fire, the sweet moments that you guys had away from camp, how he would always know how to cheer you up and make you smile, and even more, that night you gave yourself to him for the first time.

Did that mean nothing to him anymore?

So, you slapped him.

"Fuck you Mr. Escuella!" You shouted at him, voice full of rage. Your body was practically shaking as you tried to calm your anger. Your hand stung, but it was nowhere near the pain that was inflicted on Javier's cheek, which he was now clutching, using his other hand to keep him from crashing into the tree.

He was fuming, but he kept himself from cursing at you, even though curses were going through his head a mile a minute.

"You know," Javier waited for the ringing in his ears to die down a bit before speaking up again, removing the hand from his cheek, "with how quickly you defended him, I would say you know who the rat is."

"There is no rat." You seethed at him, but he just crossed his arms, eyes narrowing on you once more.

"I think it's you."

Those words hurt you more than upset you. Even after everything that's just happened, even though your guys' relationship is seemingly crumbling, you never thought that Javier would accuse you of betraying the gang. Not ever.

"I would never betray these people like that." You defended yourself, but he merely shrugged, a redness forming on his cheek from where you slapped him; a painful reminder that you've probably lost him for good now.

"I don't believe you." He simply said.

"Are you calling me a liar?" You asked him, hurt feigning on the tip of your tongue as you tried to sound tough.

"Mentiroso." He said to you in Spanish, and you didn't even need him to translate it to know that he was calling you a liar. Your shoulders shook, but not with anger this time. You could already feel the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

"You know, we don't need this right now. We don't need you. You're just causing problems for everyone, especially me." He told you and your chest heaved as you tried to keep yourself from emotionally breaking.

“I didn’t realize I was such an inconvenience.” You muttered to him, and Javier just looked away from you.

"Dutch needs me strong." Javier said to you, obviously ignoring the sounds of your heart shattering. You didn't even have the strength or anger to hide your heartbreak anymore. He was gone. Javier was gone and replaced by someone else.

"Then you can sleep with him from now on." You growled at him before turning on your heels and leaving.

"Puta." You hear him mumble.

Once you were out of sight and in the safety of your tent, you allowed yourself to cry freely. You hated how pitiful you sounded right now, desperately trying to cover your sobs with your hand as you grabbed your clothes and other belongings. But soon, you couldn't stop the pitiful wails as you packed your things. You were sure that everyone could hear you, but Javier broke your heart, and you accepted the betrayal now.

"Where are we going?" You asked Javier as you held onto him from behind on the back of Boaz. Out of the blue, he had asked you to come with him somewhere.

"It's a surprise." He responded, and you could practically hear the smile on his face. You groaned a bit, causing him to laugh.

"Nearly there, mi amor, I promise." He said, urging the horse to move a bit faster. The sounds of hooves hitting the dirt filled your ears as you watched the sun dip further into the sky. You soon rested your head on Javier's shoulder, dozing off a bit until the horse was finally halted.

"We're here." He announced before sliding off his horse and helping you down. You thanked him with a kiss to the cheek, and looked around.

You noticed that you guys were at a cliff that overlooked the Grizzlies and the sun that was starting to set. It was a bit chilly as the wind blew and you soon noticed that someone (a certain outlaw perhaps) had already been here as a blanket was lain there. There was also some flowers.

"I noticed that you were sad, querida. I heard you crying in your tent, and I knew that I had to make you smile again." Javier explained to you as he walked by you, grabbing your hand as the other held his guitar.

"I...I love you." You nearly cried again as your gratefulness came out in the expression of your feelings for him. Javier just chuckled before pulling you down onto the blanket with him, telling you that he loved you back through a tender kiss to your forehead.

"I know how much you love to hear me play, so I brought this with." He said as he settled the guitar in his lap, seeing your eyes light up with pure happiness.

As the evening went on, Javier had discarded his jacket to you once he realized how cold you were. You then cuddled into him as he continued to play, sharing a bottle of whiskey here and there. You were no inconvenience to his songs as you wrapped arms around him and kissed his cheek, letting him know how much happier you felt now.

"Are you truly better, mi amor?" He asked, hoping he did a good job in cheering you up.

"You always know how to make me smile again." You told him as you moved to kiss him properly, your heart swelling with love for him.

You blinked away more tears as you recalled that memory. Last time you were sobbing like this, he had planned something just to cheer you up. Javier took time out of his day just for you. He gave you affection and it was clear to you just how much you meant to him. Now, you knew that it was all gone, which caused another sob to escape your mouth as you covered it pitifully.

You made your decision to leave him and the gang for good.

But little did you know, Javier had heard you sobbing from where he was against that tree on the outskirts of camp. You would never knew this, but he did feel a little guilty about the things he said, but it was too late for regrets. All he could do was push it to the back of his memory and focus on his loyalty to Dutch.

However, when morning came and you were gone, all those regrets he pushed away came back tenfold.

"What did I tell you? Relationships do nothing but make you soft, that's why Y/N left. Too soft." Micah told Javier the next day after discovering your disappearance.

Javier said nothing to him.

"You're stronger now." Micah said in a tone that could be compared to the hissing of a snake as he patted Javier on the shoulder before leaving and going back to Dutch.

Javier soon found the strength to move his feet and enter your tent. The whole place was devoid of any sign of you. All he could think of was you sobbing in here as you most likely packed to flee this place. To flee from him.

The Mexican outlaw then sat on your cot, shoulders heaving as he tried to control his emotions. Not anger, however, but rather sadness. His head found its way into his hands as he gripped at his hair till his knuckles turned white. Soon, sobs could be heard coming from your tent once more.

But it wasn't you.

It was the man you once loved, feeling all the guilt in the world, and wishing he could've lost enough arrogance to sing you one last song.

[heavenlymorals]

I absolutely NEED to hear your thoughts on Bill liking Kieran your writing is so good

@escapingsin

Thank you so much ❤️❤️

I am but a servant of the people and I have been put on God's green earth to serve (cunt)- so of course!

Let's start off with the basics- Bill is gay. Though it hasn't been officially confirmed by Rockstar, it doesn't take a genius to see that that man is gay. He's the only male gang member with no female relationship or mention of a female relationship and his sexuality is implied multiple times by gang dialogue: "Arthur and Martha, or Bill and Phil." "Is he about to kiss that guy or punch him."

Oh and the hair pomade request. That was a lubricant back in the day and Bill is balding- doesn't mean he can't use pomade to slick back what he does have, but let's put two in two together, babes. He's messy, stinky (Dutch: "You could try washing"), and doesn't really take care of himself. I doubt he wants pomade for the sake of styling his hair, let's just get that cleared up.

And there is also his reaction to Arthur getting r**** in the swamp. I won't go too deep into it in this post but I have made a post all about it here :

But the main point of that post is that Bill is trying to test the waters to see if Arthur is also gay because I doubt Sonny would tell him what actually happened.

So yes: Bill is gay.

He's also gay in 1899 America, where homosexuality and homosexual acts can be met with jail time or even death. It wasn't a kind time period to gay people and Bill represents this by his general attitude. He's isolated and angry because of men. He hates them and he is attracted to them and that makes him act flustered and violent many times throughout the story. He can't properly express how he feels either about men because even in the gang, it wasn't accepted of him to be gay and it was treated as an out of sight, out of mind sort of thing.

So what does this have to do with Kieran?

Well, Bill likes Kieran, but what makes their dynamic interesting is that while the rest of the gang members, bar Dutch, Hosea, and maybe Arthur as the old guard, have the same status, Kieran doesn't. He is below them because of his former status as an O'Driscoll and any mess up or disrespect can very much end with him getting killed or punished in some way- the amount of characters threatening to castrate him is insane.

Kieran doesn't have the same protection as the other gang members, nor the respect, so Bill can get "close" to him without any real pushback because no one would stop him. And given the frustrations that Bill already has + the homophobia of the 1800s + the opportunity to hop on some "fresh meat", he wouldn't know how to express his interest in Kieran besides aggression and overly friendly aggression.

Like there is the scene where he tries to give Kieran a drink out of kindness. He starts off friendly, but when Kieran declines, he becomes aggressive, and Kieran being terrified for his safety, takes the drink and runs away, with Bill begging for him to come back, confused at the whole situation. He can only do that because of his seniority status over Kieran. Remember the reaction Bill has to Arthur being SA'd? He is playful, not aggressive, and doesn't get aggressive because Arthur, even though he aggressively tells him to get lost, has a higher rank than him.

And of course, you have Charles and Arthur talking about how Bill likes no one and then Charles says that he likes Kieran with both him and Arthur then laughing at it because of what it implies.

Bill likes Kieran but because of the life he lives and the attitudes of society and the gang in regards to homosexuality and just him in general, he can't bring himself to act normally with Kieran to express his attraction to him, which leads to poor Kieran getting terrorized the way he is.

Poor, poor Kieran.

[verdemoun]

honestly think kieran's death devastated hosea.

they're both constantly at camp, they must've interacted. and kieran has every reason to hate them: the way they treated the boy was proof to hosea of how far they'd fallen, how much dutch had changed and how much he missed the old dutch. but instead of hating them, kieran, terrified and meek and charmingly pathetic, frantically gets to work helping out however he can. kieran's so grateful for being allowed to stay, and seems genuinely delighted whenever an interaction in camp doesn't end in threats of violence. hosea looks at the gang and sees the pinkertons closing in on them like a noose and then there's kieran saying joining their gang was the best choice he'd ever made (as if he had a choice) and intially, hosea cannot understand it.

so when hosea notices kieran making a poultice with burdock, he's intrigued. he strikes up a conversation about herbal medicines and is oddly delighted to find kieran very intently listening as he prattles on about ginseng. then when hosea notices kieran very not discreetly eavesdropping on a conversation about fishing spots, and discovers the boy is a passionate fisherman, he immediately has to correct the injustice of kieran not having his own fishing pole. and again, kieran is just so overwhelmingly grateful for the smallest kindnesses.

over campfire conversations he learns more about kieran, not intentionally but y'know, he might happen to listen more when he notices the boy actually having the confidence to speak. hosea learns about how his parents died when he was young, and he was orphaned, and alone, fending for himself because when had the world been anything other than cruel, and when the army didn't work out it was inevitable he'd become an outlaw to survive - and hosea's heart aches a little, because how many times had he heard that story? how easily could kieran duffy have been one of the troubled youths they picked off the street in the early days of the van der linde gang and raised as their own?

perhaps accidentally reawakening that old paternal instinct he thought he'd buried, hosea very, very indirectly tries to make kieran's life a little easier. reminds him he's one of them now, he's allowed to take branwen out and go fishing whenever he wants (despite how awful arthur has generally been to him, kieran still very excitedly asks him to go with him). hosea keeps an eye out to make sure kieran's eating enough to gain back some of the weight he lost under their abuse, even going fishing himself when he notices they're running low on food. quietly makes sure there's always coffee at the scout fire, since the boy so rarely seems to come through the main hub of camp. when mary-beth mentions he can't read (though the comment seemed to make the poor boy self-conscious) hosea offers to read a horse meal pamphlet to him. kieran duffy, who is such a gentle soul it's frankly infuriating, immediately thinks to give the pamphlet to arthur because arthur would appreciate it.

the payoff for all his discrete work comes at shady belle, when hosea notices kieran sleeping inside the circle of wagons instead of with the horses. finally, finally, a sign he was starting to believe he belonged. at jack's party kieran actually relaxes enough to get drunk, still too anxious to join in with the louder celebrations, but he's talking to arthur and they're laughing: and it's nights like this that reminds hosea why he stuck with dutch so long - because they aren't just a gang, they're a curious conglomeration of a family, and in that moment they're all safe and happy

and then, days that felt like minutes later, he's kneeling beside kieran's decapitated corpse. he's the only one who kneels beside kieran's body, as dutch says to bury him near but not too near. it wasn't like sean's death, or davey's, where they were outlaws killed in the line of the lifestyles they'd chosen: missions. the poor kid had been taken, tortured and killed and they were too busy with dutch's goddamned plan to notice him missing. no one was sent looking for kieran duffy: whose life had been the tragedy any one of them could have lived if they didn't have the van der linde gang. they'd all let their guard down that night. it could have been arthur, or john, or tilly, any of the brilliant people hosea considered his children, who he had raised, and taught to read and write.

but it was kieran duffy, and he died alone. the only kindness hosea could offer was carrying his head, so it - he - was buried with the rest of his body - and vow they would start learning from their mistakes.

[nthspecialll]

Camp is my favourite place of them all, especially in chapter two and three but every now and then I can't stand being there because all I can think about is their future, how they will hate each other, how they will lash out, how they will be split, how they will die.

I will look at Javier playing his guitar around the campfire with a smile on his face, and think about how in the end he will have his life taken by the man he considered his best friend even after they both desperately tried to avoid it.

I will look at John sitting on the ground behind his tent, carving some figure out of wood, and think about how he did all he was told to protect his family, yet in the end, he was still shot like a dirty dog in the backyard.

I will look at Molly sitting in her and her lovers tent, quietly reading to herself, and think about how she will be shot dead merely because she loved.

I will look at Hosea reading the newspapers every morning without fail and think about how he had to watch as the man he considered his partner slowly fall apart and in the end get him killed.

I will look at Lenny eating his soup next to the man who called him his son, and think about how they will die not even an hour apart and be buried right where they wanted to be, next to a friend.

I will look at Dutch standing and talking about greatness and all the promises he has made, and think about all the people he has hurt and has yet to hurt, how he doomed them all.

I will look at Sean singing by the campfire about the land he loves so much, and think about how other than Arthur he was the only one to notice that the job was wrong yet he was the one who payed for it with a shot to the head.

I will look at Kieran standing by himself as he brushes the horses, and think about how he was worried about straying too far away because the O'Driscolls might find him and how that was exactly what happened because he didn't feel safe in camp either.

I will look at Bill listening to the stories told by his friends and think about how all he ever wanted was Dutch's approval and how he didn't even get it in the end.

I will look at Abigail caring for her son, worrying if she will have enough money to clothe him, and think about how she will have to wander the farm her husband built just for her without him by her side for three years before dying of the same as her brother in law who had saved her family.

I will look at Karen who at 10am has already found the bottom of the bottle, and think about how she will never escape that addiction that in the end will kill her.

I will look at Strauss making sure that the money is right, and think about how even when he was thrown out by Arthur, he never told on them, he never said anything, he was an old man of 60 something years who got beaten to death protecting the people who had thrown him on the street.

I will look at Uncle sleeping against a tree, and think about how in the end he died surrounded by those he loved, protecting them with his life.

I will look at Susan sitting all alone, sewing a hole in some ungrateful man's clothing, and think about how she got shot and bled out in front of her old lover who didn't even bat her and eye, all because she cared for the family she used to replace the one she could never biologically have.

Even though they are still alive, I mourn them.

[outlaw-apologist]

Bitter Sweet Goodbye - RDR2 - You Die In Their Arms

Imagine you, as their lover, die in their arms (Fem!Reader)

Characters: Arthur, Charles, Micah, Dutch, Hosea 

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence and character death, mentions of Chapter 4, use of Y/N and L/N

If anyone has any writing requests or want to see any other characters/scenarios please let me know! :D If you rather read it on AO3 it can be found here! ______

Arthur

This couldn’t be happening. Arthur would have laughed at the absurdity of it, really. If he weren’t so choked up by the gnawing realization that you weren’t going to make it. Micah had insisted on pulling another O’Driscoll bust. Stealing the mother-load from a bank transport wagon the rival gang had their eye on. “C’mon Arthur. After what they did to you and Kieran? They deserve it.” He coerced you both into it. “And Y/N is a quick shot. In and out, easy job.”

You were excited to fuck over the Irish gang. When Arthur returned half dead on his horse you were in shambles. Heartbroken over seeing your lover at death’s door. “Let’s do this!” You exclaimed. “Let’s make their pockets hurt.” Just as Micah had pointed out, you were quite experienced. You had been running with the gang for a long while and your talents were admirable. Hell, you even saved Arthur from getting shot a few times.

“Okay.” He agreed reluctantly. “Let’s go.” He didn’t trust Micah but if you were there… Well… The job would probably be fine.

Arthur should have known by now it was another setup. After the O’Driscoll boys strung him up in that cellar he should have known… After Sean’s head was blown off during the blood feud he should have known. When he saw you fall from your horse everything clicked for him. The world slowed as he watched the horses of the men behind you trample your limp body mercilessly into the dust. The O'Driscolls outnumbered the three of you greatly and it was clear they were out for blood. Arthur shot every single one of them with little hesitation, leaving behind no survivors.

Micah rejoiced while the dirt cleared from the air. “Whoo-hoo!” He laughed, sliding from his saddle to loot the O’Driscoll corpses. “They got some good money!” Micah gazed up, tilting the brim of his hat while scanning the area for you. “Shit-” He breathed. Your horse was dead and you… Well, he could tell by the way Arthur dropped everything to rush to your side that something not so good probably happened.

Arthur noticed you hadn’t moved in awhile. By the time he collapsed by your side and held you in his arms he was able to take in how much you were in rough shape. Arthur swallowed hard, watching you gurgle on your blood and gasp, struggling to breathe. “Arthur-” He winced when the broken sound of your usually sweet voice reached his ears.

“Shhh, Y/N. Save your energy. It’s gonna be okay, we’re gettin’ you outta this.” Though they were meant to be soothing, his words were desperate. A silent prayer to whatever god above had long abandoned him and his friends, and now his lover who was suffering badly. Arthur knew you wouldn’t make it to camp. Shit, you probably wouldn’t even live long enough for him to get you both on his horse. All he could do was hold you in his arms. Memorizing the weight of your body against his. The warmth of your skin and how beautifully you always looked up at him even in your last few moments.

Despite the drying blood coating your bruising face you were still the most ethereal being Arthur had ever laid eyes upon. He could have laughed right then and there. He could have cried. He could have begged; ‘No! Not Y/N too. Please- take anyone but Y/N! Take me instead!’ but who would listen? The universe never answered his prayers or his pleas. Surely the universe would be quiet today too.

He didn’t want your last moments to be scary. Instead he pet your hair, kissing your lips while trying to make sure you were laying in a comfortable position. It wasn’t easy since your ribs were shattered but it was all he could think to do. “Guess what?”

“What?” Your voice was barely just above a whisper.

“I wanted to tell you earlier, but… We finally have enough money to get ourselves a nice cabin out West. Just you and me. Maybe we can get ourselves a dog. Doesn’t that sound nice?” It was a lie but it was also a beautiful dream.

“Mmmm.” Your breaths were shallow now. There was a smile growing on your busted lips. Arthur’s heart sunk as he watched your eyes flutter shut. You looked so exhausted. Ready for eternal rest. Never had he felt such heartache. “It does sound nice. I really….. really want a dog.”

“I know you do, sweetheart. I know.” His voice trembled, finally giving away his emotions. When your breathing slowly came to a stop he pressed your foreheads together letting out a soft anguished cry. ‘I love you.’ He wanted to say, but who would listen? You were gone. The whole world fell silent. The birds didn’t chirp, the coyotes didn’t bark, and Micah Bell somehow had enough wit to him to give you both privacy in your final moments.

Arthur held you until the sun had long set and your body was growing cold. He couldn’t let go – wouldn’t…. Until Hosea finally came and squeezed his shoulder. “Arthur, my boy… I’m so sorry. Micah told me everything. Charles and I are here to help. Let’s let Y/N rest.” Slowly, Arthur uncurled from you, reluctantly passing your body to Hosea. Even as you were taken away he stared blankly at the spot you had been before slowly staring up at the twinkling stars above. Finally, he laughed. A cold hard grief filled laugh that was as heavy as his heart and mind.

“This is it for us.” He murmured, taking out a cigarette. “None of us are long for this world now.” Lighting it between his lips he flicked the match away then took a long drag. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.” The breeze pushed back his hair while he smoked. Just taking in the scene before him. This was a scene he’ll never bear to draw in his journal. A scene that he’ll carry, burned into his memory, to fuel him until he too takes his final breaths.

Arthur Morgan stood. Covered in the blood of the only person who had genuinely loved him for who he was. In the blood of the most beautiful human being he had ever had the privilege of sharing life with. He carried his trembling body to his horse. “Follow me. I know where she’d wanna be laid to rest.” __________

Charles

Charles took you hunting in the Grizzlies West, an activity you and him have done a dozen times together if not more. Pelts were needed to upgrade things around camp and to keep everyone warm, it was a simple task. You were an experienced hunter and he loved spending quiet lazy days with you out in the mountains. That was, until today.

You had tracked a moose to cliff overlooking a nearby river. “We’re close.” Charles admired the snowflakes shimmering in your hair as the sun moved through the trees.  The day had been long and you two were wrapping up for the evening. Just one last catch…

Then, you were suddenly gone.

Charles blinked in confusion. It happened sp quickly his mind struggled to make sense of it even as the loud SLASH of your body hitting the frozen water reached his ears. “Y/N!?” Charles rushed to the ledge, watching you scramble to catch onto a rock since you were swept away by the deadly current.

He wasted no time in mounting his horse, riding fast and hard to catch up to you long enough to toss you his lasso. “Y/N!” He tried hard to call your name over the rushing sound of water. “Y/N grab the rope!”

You coughed and sputtered, flailing wildly. You couldn’t see anything in the water, the current dragging you under every few seconds. “Charles!” You sobbed out. Finally you felt something wrap around your wrist. Charles managed to throw his lasso just right for you to grab onto. The frigid water bit into your skin like a thousand stinging needles while you were being pulled to the bank.

“You poor thing.” Charles breathed, gathering you into his arms once you were close enough for him to grab. You were half frozen and turning blue with hypothermia. Teeth chattering and shaking so hard you couldn’t even speak. Your skin burned so badly your brain was begging you to rip it off. The cold was a shock to your system, all you could to was press helplessly against your lover’s warm chest. Never had you felt such pain.

Charles did the best he could. He knew he had to get you warm or else…. Luckily you were close enough to Colter, he was able to bring you there quickly. Returning to the spot was bitter sweet. He set you up in the warmest cabin, stripping your wet clothes off. Charles then covered you in his coat and the furs you two managed to collect earlier. Finding dry firewood was a struggle so he ended up burning little kindling with paper from a book and some fat from an animal you both killed.

“S-s-so c-cold.” You whispered. All of your energy had depleted trying to keep your body warm and now your eyes were growing heavy.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’ll be warmer soon.” The fire really wasn’t heating fast enough. Charles gathered you in his arms again in an attempt to share his warmth with you. He could tell you weren’t doing well. Even if he could bring you into the warmest place possible you probably weren’t going to make it, you had been in that water for far too long. He tried not to let that get to him. If he ignored that fact, maybe it would disappear from existance and you would be okay.

Charles brushed the hair from your face, kissing your forehead. Your head rest against his chest and he stared into the fire as he rocked you gently. He was silent for awhile, trying to conjure ways to save your life or to ease your suffering. Nothing came to mind and Charles was beginning to feel terrified. “Don’t go to sleep.” He whispered, resting his chin on top of your head.

“I’m trying not to.”

Oh, your voice was so strained and weak. Was this the last time he’ll ever hear you speak?

“I love you.”

Charles swallowed hard. He looked down at you again, searching your face with desperation. “I know. I love you too.”

“I know.” You teased him, snuggling up to your lover one final time. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Y/N…..” His brow furrowed. A part of him didn’t understand why you were saying these things while the other half was realizing the reality and severity of the situation. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He held you tighter as if that would somehow keep you bound to this world. “Always.” He whispered. “Now and in the future.” Please… please let there be a future…

You didn’t answer. Your eyes were shut peacefully and your breathing began to fade. Feeling helpless now that his best friend was slipping away in his arms, all Charles could do was silently cry. He kept rocking you, singing a lullaby his mother had sang for him as a child. He wanted you to go peacefully and well loved. It was the least he could do.

Only hours ago you both were on top of the world. Enjoying each others company. Giving thanks to the animals you hunted. Only this morning he woke up to you in his arms kissing all over his face while giggling. And now…. Now you were gone. In his arms, yes, but not really here at all. He’ll never see you again.

Charles sobbed, his whole body shaking as he clung to you. He wasn’t ready for you to leave. Not like this… He stayed with you until the sun rose and a new day broke. Placing one final kiss to your lips he carefully bundled you up in the pelts and brought you to his horse. It was too cold up in Colter to dig a grave and he wanted to place you somewhere beautiful. Somewhere meaningful. The ride down the mountain was slow and painful. Charles sang sorrowfully his lullaby the whole way.

After that day, Charles no longer found any peace in hunting. It only brought memories of you. ____________

Micah

Micah had a hard time loving people. Letting people in. He was shown from a young age that love was a weakness and he was a survivor. That was, until you came around and somehow tore down those walls. With you in his life he was calmer, milder, less likely to shoot up a town for looking at him wrong. If he had to do a job you were always right there by his side.

Micah didn’t consider this might be a setup. He thought it was just another day out and easy money.  A house robbery where the occupants had recently come into some decent cash while gambling in Saint Denis. However, they were simple country folk and seemed innocent enough. The wife was supposedly away visiting her sister with their children and the husband was fast asleep. Easy. Sneak in, grab the money, sneak out. Maybe steal their carriage. Something you could probably handle on your own but Micah thought the two of you riding off into the moonlight with pockets overstuffed with ritches was rather romantic.

It was an ambush.

You found the cash effortlessly just as assumed. There was a book here you picked up and glance at, or a bottle of alcohol there you stowed away in case it was useful. You always had a good eye for these things and since you’ve robbed plenty of homesteads you weren’t too concerned with things going south. Instead you took your sweet time as quiet as a mouse.

Micah was right behind you. He even teasingly spanked your ass at one point, causing you to glare playfully at him. “Really?” You mouthed. He shrugged. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here.” His hand was on your hip as you opened the front door. Micah could feel you freeze.

“Shit-”  Was all you could manage before stumbling backwards, clutching your throat in a feeble attempt to stop from bleeding out. Bounty hunters! They had surrounded the house as soon as you two entered, waiting for an opening. One hiding behind the door had shot you point blank in the jugular.

“Mother fucker!” Micah’s voice cracked with rage. His eyes were wild with insanity as he shot the man to death. Micah kicked the door shut in an attempt to buy you both a bit of coverage, dragging you to lay in the safety of his lap. “Come on out Micah Bell. We know you’re in there!” The team of bounty hunters circled the house, shooting at its walls, shattering the windows.

Micah ignored them the best he could. They could wait. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your writhing choking form. You couldn’t breathe. Your hands reached out for him, clawing at his arms desperately as if Micah could give you your breath back. Crimson stained the both of you and your clothes.

“Shit baby-doll.” He let out a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry. I’ll make ‘em pay. I’m so sorry, I shoulda known.” He brushed the hair from your face, wiping the blood from the corner of your mouth with his shirt sleeve while his free hand put pressure on your spewing neck. There was so much blood and he could tell by the way your wide eyes glistened you were in pain. “I know, I know.” He hugged you while listening to your gurgled plea. “I know it hurts. It’ll go away soon.”

His hand wet with your life force slid down your body to rest over your still beating heart. He felt it thrum a moment longer before pressing his gun to the area. “I love you baby-doll.”

BANG!

Your body falling limp brought relief to Micah’s own lungs and he let out a shaky breath. He couldn’t stand the thought of you dying while wretching like a wounded animal. A mercy killing was most fitting of his sweetheart, he thought darkly with a heavy heart. Micah stayed with you a moment longer, whispering soft nothings until the bounty hunters caught his attention again. All of that rage filled him once more and he wasted no time in kicking open the front door and gunning them down in cold blood.

Silence filled the midnight air accompanied by crickets. The scent of gunpowder and iron was so thick he could taste it. It was peaceful. Life and death mingled in silent spaces held in the shadows. It was as expected, Micah thought.

Shrugging off his jacket he slid it on your form before scooping your lifeless body up in his arms. He set you on the back of Baylock before dragging the other corpses into the house and lighting it on fire. Micah watched it burn, smoking a cigarette. The dancing images cast over the land in a faint glow amused him. Were you there? Rejoicing in the death of the men who killed you? He wanted to think so. To think that you would dance in every fire he lit from here on out.

Once dawn broke Micah finally mounted his horse to find a place to bury you. He actually considered this a lot. He wanted to lay you to rest in a place easily accessible so he could visit you often. He stayed silent the whole ride, replaying memories of you in his mind. You were his one and only and Micah knew he would never find love again. _____________

Dutch

Dutch had many lovers but none were quite like you. You were ethereal. Special. All he ever wanted to do was make his plans then return to his tent to hold you in his arms as you both spoke about the future and fell asleep for the night. He looked forward to his time with you. Unlike his other lovers you enjoyed going out and working for money. Charming a fella for his days wage, or stealing from a rich man’s wife during teatime. It was a quality about you he found… Well… Sexy.

When Dutch met with Colm O’Driscoll he thought it went rather well. Arthur never met them on the road home but he didn’t think too much of it. Riding back to camp he was in high spirits. Speaking loudly to Micah about how they were finally moving forward in life. “Where’s Y/N? I have wonderful news!” He announced after hitching his horse. Charles and Ms. Grimshaw exchanged looks.

“She hasn’t returned yet Dutch, I thought you went to meet her in Rhodes.” Grimshaw flattened her skirt.

Dutch scoffed. “Now why would I go and do that?”

“She said she’d be back in the evening.”

“It’s evening now, Ms. Grimshaw.”

“I know. We were waiting for her.”

With a sigh, Dutch simply stalked back to The Count, climbing onto his saddle. “I’ll go fetch her then.” It was such a chore! He shouldn’t be out when he has such a price on his head. But Dutch was quite giddy after Colm complimented him and he wanted you to be the first to hear about how the meeting went.

He rode into town, walking through on his horse as his eyes scanned the buildings for any sign of you. Maybe you were mingling?  Before he could consider any other possibilities something caught his ear. His heart sank while he overheard words he never dared imagine the combination of.

“O’Driscolls? Down this far South? Unheard of. I guess they were searching for a gal. Grabbed her and took off with the Lemoyne Raiders hot on their tail. Nasty business.”

Nasty business indeed. Now, he could be slow but Dutch van der Linde was no fool. Why else would the O’Driscolls be down this way, during the day of their meeting no less, to kidnap a random girl? Oh, he knew. This was their idea all along. To kill his other sweetheart.

Dutch’s knuckles turned white with rage, snapping the reigns violently. The Count whirled around, running out of Rhodes until he carried Dutch back to camp. “Micah, Bill, with me. Now!” He barked through gritted teeth, pacing straight to his tent to grab his revolver. “Y/N has been taken. By Colm O’Driscoll.”

“Shit! That bastard. You shoulda’ killed ‘em!” Bill ran, grabbing his rifle while Micah walked leisurely to mount Baylock, completely unbothered.

“I should have, Bill. I should have. Now com’mon!”

They rode fast and hard. Somehow catching up to the O’Driscoll’s little posse before they could reach some encampment with you stowed on a horse. Micah flanked the enemy gang on one side while Bill came in from the other. Dutch held the back, eyeing you tied up and gagged. The sight made his blood boil. There was eight O’Driscolls in total and their horses were fast, but Dutch, Bill, and Micah managed to keep up. Riding and shooting at each other as they went.

The Irishmen fell from their horses like flies. Some with their face half blown off, others screaming as their horses dragged them to death.  One by one they were picked off until there were only two left. Dutch dug his spurs into his horse, moving him to ride along the man who held you captive on horseback. “Give it up son. Give me the lady and we’ll spare your life.” He didn’t want to shoot the man just yet in case you got hurt.

When a gun was pulled out of his pocket, Dutch veered to the side, assuming the fucker was going to shoot at him. His eyes widened when he realized the O’Driscoll boy wasn’t aiming for him at all. A severe miscalculation on Dutch’s part. “Colm says hello.”

BANG!

“God damn you!” He snarled. Dutch finally raised his pistol.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

He emptied a barrage of shots into the man until the gun clicked and no more bullets came out. Dutch chased after the boy’s horse, corralling the spooked animal into stopping. Time seemed slow. Too slow. Dutch tried his best to calm the horse enough for him to safely take you off its back and into the comfort of his arms. “Oh, my darling.” Dutch fell to his knees, untying you so he could inspect the growing blood stain near your abdomen.

“Dutch! You came for me. You came-” You sobbed, gripping your side in pain.

“Shhh. Of course I did.” He placed a kiss to your trembling lips. The wound was bad. This situation was bad. Everything was fucked. He had seen men shot in this area more times than he could count and he knew they never survived for more than a day at most.

“Com’ere.” He picked you up, carrying you to his horse. After sitting you down he climbed into the saddle. “Tell the others…” His mouth opened and closed for a moment. What does he even say? He didn’t want to scare you but… He didn’t want that filthy camp to be the last thing you see. He knew how much you hated it...

“Alright.” Bill said, seeming to understand what was happening. He took his hat off, staring at you for a moment before bowing politely. “I’m happy you’re safe, Ms. L/N.”

You smiled gently. “Thank you Bill.” Your throat was dry and your words were weak.

Dutch held you close to him as you rode off.

“Where are we going?” You wondered.

“Somewhere nice, my dear. With a wound like that you need rest and fresh air. Simple as that.” Somehow Dutch managed to keep his voice calm even as his heart churned with sorrow.

He brought the both of you to stop overlooking a beautiful meadow with a perfect view of the lake. After placing a sweet kiss to the top of your head Dutch scooped you into his arms, carrying you to a nice tree where he then settled you in his lap. “Here, take this.” He pressed a bottle of alcohol into your hands. “It’ll help take the pain away and you’ll be able to sleep.”

Dutch pet your hair as he watched you. Studying your face. Every bump, wrinkle, scar, and blemish. He wanted to remember every single aspect of you. His last lover… Whenever he tried to recall her face the picture was fuzzy. He couldn’t stand the idea of not being able to remember you. “I love you so much, you know that? You were so brave today. I’m proud of you, sweetheart. Real proud.”

“I wasn’t really…” You gave a little laugh, wincing as the alcohol burned your throat. “I love you too. Thank you for saving me.” You felt stiff and exhausted. Snuggling against his chest you both watched the sunrise and Dutch began reciting lines from your favorite book he had memorized. It was lovely, you thought as your eyes became too heavy and sleep was hard to battle. You hummed happily, a smile on your face as you drifted off peacefully.

Long after he felt your breathing stop did Dutch keep telling your favorite story. As if your spirit were lingering around and would return to your body. Then, maybe, everything would be okay. When he reached the final line of his remembrance only then did he cry. Burying his face into your hair he sobbed and took in your scent one final time.

The last thread of his sanity broke that day. He no longer cared about what future the gang might have. What future he would have with the price on his head… The only future he ever cared about was with you and you were gone now. He held you until Hosea came looking for him. Together they buried you somewhere meaningful. This was the only time Dutch actually payed for a headstone to be made. In your honor. __________________

Hosea

You and Hosea were always together no matter what you were doing. Half of the time you didn’t even need to speak with each other and just silently enjoyed each others company. Naturally you joined him on many outings to scope out who to rob. This particular occasion was a party on the outskirts of Saint Denis located in a beautiful garden home. You were dressed brilliantly, posing as Hosea’s lawful wife.

You’re charming. More charming than anyone else in the gang. With your sweet angel face and your gentle voice, everyone who spoke to you immediately thought of you as a good friend. And so there you were, mingling with the other guests. Giggling with the ladies and awe-ing (falsely so) with the rich gentlemen. Everyone loved you! So many people were trying to speak with you and flag down your attention.

It wasn’t usual to have such an elegant, smart, sweet, kind, and funny lady in their midst. You were a bit of a commodity. Hosea could hardly make his way to your side there were so many people surrounding you. He watched fondly from afar. Many times men would approach him to compliment you. “You’re one lucky man, Mr. Matthews. Mrs. Matthews is such a charmer.”

“Oh, I know it!” He laughed.” Trust me, fellas, it’s hard to keep my wife for myself some days.”

They all laughed. One man handing him a cigar which he happily accepted. The evening was bright and joyful. Though he nor you enjoyed events like this somehow you both were having fun this time. Hosea followed a group of men into a private back study to discuss investments while he left you at the main party.

This particular crowd was juicy, you thought. You heard so much gossip and many of the attendees were telling on themselves; bragging to you about what they’ve recently purchased for themselves or who’s neighbor was hoarding cash in personal safes. You were careful to make a mental note of each and every person as you nursed a glass of champagne.

“Did you hear?” A woman leaned close to you and a few of her friends.

“Hear what?” You inquired.

“Apparently Mrs. Conway has asked the local apothecary for… a permanent sleep cure.”

You tilt your head as the other ladies gasped and giggled. “Mrs. Conway… Our host for the evening?” Were they really gossiping about this woman in her own home?

“Yes. Oh, she must be dreadfully bored of Mr. Conway. I wonder if he’ll join us this evening.”

All you could do was smile and nod to blend in. It wasn’t the first time you had heard of a woman wanting to poison her rich husband. To each their own, you didn’t really care. You flinched as a loud clattering noise reached your ears. Looking behind you  your eyes settled towards the source of the sound. The kitchens.

“I heard they hired new help and the kitchens are a mess tonight.” Another older woman snickered. “The Conways are lucky mingling has been this evening’s high point. Otherwise a ruined meal would sully the party.”

“Absolutely.” You agreed, setting your glass aside. “Will you please excuse me? I wish to powder my nose before dinner.” With a hum you moved away from the group to find Hosea. It wasn’t hard for you to follow his voice down the hallway. You smiled to yourself, simply listening to him work his magic. He truly was such a likable man.

Once dinner arrived Hosea had met up with you and brought you to the dining room where he pulled out your chair. Even if you two weren’t in such a luxurious setting he would have still done this. Always such a gentlemen to the love of his life. “How goes it?”

“Quite well. The ladies here are wonderfully friendly. I’ve learned a lot from them.”

Hosea admired how stunning you looked in the chandelier lighting, ignoring the help as plates of food were set in front of each guest. “I’m happy to hear that, honey.” He gave you an easy but loving smile. A smile you were quite familiar with.

There was a short speech given by Mrs. Conway, who’s party this was, where she thanked everyone and made a few jokes that earned a chuckle here and there. Finally you were able to eat. It was spaghetti which was, apparently, an Italian dish. Jack had told you and Hosea all about it when he returned to Shady Belle.

There was still chatter in the air as you took your first bite. It was delicious! It made your throat tingle a little but you thought nothing of it. Perhaps it was just the spices used. After your third bite your throat suddenly completely restricted. Your fork clattered against the table, hands flying to your throat. You couldn’t swallow. You couldn’t breathe.

“Y/N?” Hosea’s startled gaze snapped to you immediately. The room went silent as looks of horror washed over the faces of guests. “Y/N!?” Hosea gasped when your body began convulsing. He quickly took you into his arms, helping you to the floor so you wouldn’t hurt yourself. “Someone call the doctor! Quick!” He screamed. His eyes met with Mrs. Conway’s only for a split moment. She was frozen into place, guilt written all over her face. “Hurry!” Hosea pleaded.

You cried out the best you could. Holding onto Hosea who tried his best to calm you. “I’m here my love. I’m here. Hang on. Please Y/N.” He felt so helpless. All he could do was wipe the spit from the corner of your mouth and the tears from your cheeks while whispering soft soothing words. He held eye contact with you, shushing you, promising you help was on the way. “Stay with me, love. Stay with me.” His words were desperate. Eyes filled with tears.

Your face was turning blue. Your body trembling, writhing and heaving. It was a disturbing sight for Hosea, who had always assumed he would meet his end far before you ever met yours. The poison was swift. As soon as it started it ended and you finally fell limply against his chest. Hosea paused, studying your face. He couldn’t understand at first why you were quiet. “Y/N?” He gently shook you.

“No…. No! Y/N!” He cried out for you. Hosea pulled you tightly against him, wrapping his arms to cradle your head away from prying eyes as he sobbed openly. The whole thing was a whirlwind. What was supposed to be a tantalizing evening ended in tragedy. A selfish woman meaning to poison her husband. The messy kitchen staff mixing up the guests’ plates. You choking to death on an elixir from hell. Hosea Matthews experiencing his lover being ripped away from him violently a second time.

To onlookers he was nothing but a broken man refusing to let go of his murdered wife even as the police came and tried to break them apart. He wanted so desperately to fight them away, but he knew he couldn’t.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Matthews. I never meant for-” Ms. Conway whimpered pathetically while her hands were being bound by an officer for her arrest.

“You never meant for what?” He snapped. “An innocent person to die? You didn’t mean to get caught? You didn’t mean for your greed to bring you to such lows?” His eyes were cold and Ms. Conway hung her head in shame. “Go to hell, Ms. Conway. Where you belong.”

Once it was allowed, Hosea left the party. He went straight to the Saint Denis morgue to see you one last time before making funeral arrangements. It felt fake. As if the events of the night were a figment of his imagination. The gravity of reality didn’t sink in until he returned to Shady Belle alone. Every ne was asking where you were. All he could do was drag his old bones to his room, collapse onto his cot, and cry.