#starting with fria

[howlett-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

8. Time Of Need

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: here it is, guys. i apologize in advance for this very hard read, it was mostly just a way for me to vent out some frustration that I've been having recently with things that have resurfaced in my life. if anyone has ever gone through something like SA or similar to it, please know you can always talk to me. I understand, and i am with you guys.

Summary: With John back in the camp, things go back to normal, until a town excursion with a few gang members leads to a terrible tragedy.

Warnings: literally everything holy shit- Sexual Assualt, Gun Violence, mentions of blood. Mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage. mentions of mental illness and depression. PTSD. mentions of dismemberment and other acts of physical violence.

WC: 20k (yes, you read that correctly)

“Oh,” you smiled, trying to be decent with someone who has potentially seen you before… although you aren’t sure how. “I know a lot of people.”  “His name was Christopher Mathis,” the man’s voice changed, and turned cold. It sent a chill down your spine immediately and you sensed that you were in danger. “You shot him dead right in front of me.”  And it was only then when he was before you that you assessed his nature. He was a threat, because he knew who you were. No one has ever recognized Texas Red outside of his facade.

There will come a time of need, and when that need comes, there is no better man to have in your corner than Arthur Morgan…

-

John has kept to his word, showing just how much he cared about his family. It was a slow process to reintegrate, and to start taking on responsibilities, both for Jack and Abigail, but he was doing it. You saw with your own eyes just how much he was trying. 

You were also experiencing something over the past week that you thought was impossible. Dutch started favoring you. 

He even let you lead a job for the first time since your accident on the train a while back. It was a small job, that was for sure, but it felt good to have the balance of before, of Charlie Brooks and Texas Red. It may not be your true origin, but after years of wearing the name and the talent that goes along with it, it’s becoming who you are. 

You’ve been wearing dresses around the camp again. Although you still kept the look of a young man to fool the people in town whenever you could. It was easier that way, making sure no one saw resemblances. You remember back in Agua Fria how there had been wanted posters with a masculine outline of your face on it, Texas Red being the name in thick letters above the drawn lines. It was easier to confuse people there when they had a face on paper, not just in their heads. No need to put that face on top of a girl wearing a frilly dress.

It’s been a good week, you’d like to think. The camp seems to have completely forgotten about your troubles, and moved on with eloquence. It most likely has to do with the fact that you brought John home, and no one was as upset about it as they originally thought. 

Sitting with your back against one of the desert trees, you scribbled away on a ledger that you were working on, face completely focused until a radiant, sun kissed figure appeared before you, kneeling down. 

You pretended to ignore him, rereading the list you made a few times over. He knew it was a farce, but he loved playing these games with you. They seemed to intensify with every interaction. He was trying his absolute best to work himself another opportunity like he’d had around the campfire the night of John’s return. 

He huffed an amused scoff, shuffling around on the dirt until he was sitting with his back to your outstretched legs, faking a wide yawn and laying backwards onto your lap. You couldn’t hide your smile if you tried, peering over your book to greet him. 

“Hello, Arthur,” you spoke, holding back a giggly grin. He’d now taken to ignoring you, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes as if he were napping. 

Two can play that game. You set the pencil back down into the fold of the ledger to free one hand, letting it card through the strands of his hair. It was getting longer again, the pieces in the front framed his face how you liked it.

“Keep that up and I’ll fall asleep for real,” he uttered, his own smile spreading gently at the feel of your fingers. 

“Can’t have that, you’ve got a busy day ahead.” 

“I do?” He peeked with one eye open at you, with confusion woven through his furrowed brow. 

“I don’t know. That’s how it usually goes,” you shrugged, continuing to rake your fingers through his hair despite the threat of him falling asleep. 

“I think for once I’m gettin’ an easy day. The question is, how should I spend it?” 

You could think of several things, but of course you wouldn’t voice these things aloud. You were certain of Arthur’s feelings by now, but even with the assurance that your adoration is returned, you’re both still on the precipice of changing the dynamic, and ending the game. It’s fun, and it makes the tension thicker with every encounter. 

“I say you should help me with my busy day,” you replied, taking up the pencil in your hand again and scribbling away the next part of your task. 

“Yeah? And what are we doin’ exactly?” 

He sat up from his reclining position on your legs to move onto the ground beside you, glancing over your shoulder. 

“I’ve been making a list of necessities we’re missing from the inventory. I guess Hosea’s gonna take a cart into town tomorrow for supplies.” 

“Ah, I see…”

He leaned close, watching you write each thing down as it was needed. With the budget for items, you were working hard to figure out what was needed more and how much of it. He liked watching you write, your handwriting was so neat and elegant. 

He sat there for a while, staring at the page, then turning to watch the camp. He seemed to be enjoying himself until his restlessness caused him to fiddle with the outer skirt of your dress. You weren’t wearing the top of it today, just a corset and chemise because of the heat, but the light blue skirt had some holes in it, too big for patching or mending in his opinion.

“I’ve been meaning to buy you a new one.” 

You let your pencil fall to the page, turning your face to see his eyeline reaching the holes in your skirt. “You don’t have to buy me anything, ya hear? Besides, s’just a few little holes, no one’s gonna know.” 

“I bought you this one, already,” he reminded, trying to get you to concede, but of course you were stubborn and hard-headed. 

“And it’s my favorite thing I own,” you defended it, although it was falling to pieces every day you wore it. 

“Besides your gun…” he corrected.

You sighed, needing to admit it was in fact second to the pistol that you depended on. 

“Besides my gun…” you nodded along.

“I like gettin’ you things,” he shrugged, leaning a little further into you when he reached for the other side of your skirt hem. “If your skirt has holes I’ll buy you something new.”

“Half the girls in camp have holes in their skirts, Arthur.”

“They ain’t you,” he spoke firmly. He started standing to his feet, dusting his pants off and shaking his hands after. “If I don’t find something else to do today, I’ll go into town and get you a nice one.” 

“Arthur-“ 

“Nope. I won’t hear it,” he shoved off your reply, keeping any further protesting from reaching his ears. 

You huffed a breath out, rolling your eyes before letting a smile across your lips. He was so stubborn, but you couldn’t deny you loved how much he wanted to do something for you, wanted to provide for you.

The day went on until about noon, and Dutch called everyone to the center of the camp when the sun was right overhead. Everyone was hot and sweaty in the midst of the heat, but they listened to the speech anyway. 

Apparently, there was a Grand Marquis passing through the town, only making a stop to tour the mountains. It was highly unlikely that someone of such status would linger for longer than they had to, and Dutch knew it. He wanted a select group to go into town this afternoon and scout out the area around the Inn that he was staying at. 

The special list of people included: Arthur, Javier, John, Mac, Karen, and You. 

You weren’t necessarily sure how he came up with the list, but you weren’t complaining, you were just glad to be back on jobs again. So was John, funnily enough. 

Sean asked what the rest of them were to do in the time being, and Dutch had a spooky little answer of: get ready…

You weren’t sure if he already had a plan in place, or if he was waiting on the intel you all would bring him, but you imagined the job was going to be huge. You hadn’t been on such an expensive job since the train, but you were ready to prove yourself this time. Whatever happened, you would not be the reason this job goes south. 

You started heading towards your tent to change, but then Dutch stopped you, a hand on your shoulder. 

“Maybe it’s for the best on this one that Texas Red isn’t recognizable,” he said in a concerned manner. At first you thought he was being over cautious, but on second thought, you remembered just how much of a ruckus you’d caused when you dueled a man outside the saloon. Even the shopkeeper is afraid of you, now.

Dutch was right, it’s for the best that no one knows. 

So instead you grab the holster meant for your lower thigh, strapping it on and setting your beloved pistol into place. It was all you really needed for a small reconnaissance job, and it wouldn’t even be drawn. 

Arthur catches you with your foot up on a barrel, the exposed skin of your leg on view for him to see. He leaned against his wagon and whistled out in a low tone, grabbing your attention. 

“Arthur Morgan,” you scolded playfully, dropping your skirt and putting your foot down to the ground. “Don’t you know it’s bad manners to stare at a lady without proper apparel?” 

He stopped leaning on his wagon, taking slow strides towards you with his hands on his belt. 

“I’ve seen you in less…” he trailed, raising a brow and tilting his head. When you saw the smirk on his lips you scoffed. The devil himself, but he was still so handsome. 

“Only one time, and I was bleedin’ out,” you remarked, arguing with his naughty sentiments. 

He scratched the back of his neck, nodding in agreement. He was almost too timid to say his next line, but as he began to take his leave, he turned around, walking backwards to keep you in his eyeline a moment longer. 

“I’m sure it won’t be the last…” 

With that, he turned back around, avoiding the aftermath of his comment that left you completely speechless. Your eyes grew wide, and it took you a moment to process what he was really saying. Arthur Morgan is thinkin’ about taking my clothes off. 

You shook your head to try and get refocusing on the job, but he stayed within the confines of your mind. 

-

Standing in the middle of town beside Karen, you looked around the Inn. Arthur had already gone down another path and taken Mac with him. The two were trying to examine the exit through the back. 

You had just been lingering around the front of the establishment, but given that it’s a bigger, slightly wealthier Inn, you figured the terrace might be the best way inside. You looked to the left and right, listening to Javier and Karen squabble about the Marquis himself before you decided you wanted a new perspective on the building. 

“I’m gonna try and find a way onto the terrace,” you nudged Karen, hearing a vague response before they were back to arguing. 

You took your time, trying to act as inconspicuous as possible, going down one alley, then the next, trying to find a point of entry to a neighboring building. If you could just get to a nearby roof, it would be easy to climb over the railing of the Inn’s terrace. 

You finally found a spot nearby, where some carpenters had been taking a break, setting their tools down and throwing down their gloves. When they left the area, you nearly cheered. There was a maintenance ladder, perfectly placed by the building three doors down. 

You minded your own business, continuing to walk through the alley, looking left and right before scaling the ladder. Once on the rooftop, you were able to inconspicuously walk along the edge of each rooftop until you reached the terrace. You didn’t bother making a spectacle of yourself to actually climb over, but just made mental notes on the small distance and where the windows were placed. 

Overall, it looked like the easiest way inside, never mind the fact that no one knew which room belonged to whom. 

You leaned around the side, making sure you were still relatively hidden before descaling the buildings. You realize only now that another hole in your skirt was made when you went down the ladder. The worn fabric caught on a steep splinter in the wood. 

You huffed out a sigh, knowing that if Arthur already checked out the building, he was likely at the general store now. 

“Excuse me, pretty miss?” A voice erupted from down the alley, further away from the street. 

You turned and were met by a man, likely a towns person who was unsure of why you were climbing ladders in a back alleyway. Curiosity killed the cat.

“Yes, sir?” 

“My name is Earl Hayes,” he began speaking gently. Holding his hat in his hands before taking slow steps towards you. “I believe you knew one of my friends…”

He looked cordial and timid, likely a farmer from the attire he wore:

“Oh,” you smiled, trying to be decent with someone who has potentially seen you before… although you aren’t sure how. “I know a lot of people.” 

“His name was Christopher Mathis,” the man’s voice changed, and turned cold. It sent a chill down your spine immediately and you sensed that you were in danger. “You shot him dead right in front of me.” 

And it was only then when he was before you that you assessed his nature. He was a threat, because he knew who you were. No one has ever recognized Texas Red outside of his facade.

“I’m sure you’ve got me mixed up with someone else…” you trailed, taking steps backwards until your back hit something. Turning around, you were face to face with two other men, taller and stronger than you if you had to guess. You couldn’t take either of them if you tried.

“Grab her hands,” Earl said, his tone firm and his words fast. You didn’t even have a chance to reach for your gun when they got you by the arms, taking you to the brick wall behind you. You notice immediately the black ink tattoo that’s right by your face, keeping you in line.  “Hold her still.” 

“Let go of me!” You jerked around, feeling as though another brick wall was holding you down. You started screaming, but before the breath in your lungs could even carry it out, Earl placed a dirty hand over your mouth, the harshness of it had slammed your head into the wall. The dizziness was almost a comfort when it distorted your vision, but it didn’t last long, and you were again met with the demon eyes of the man you thought was a timid farmer.

Earl reached beneath your skirt, drawing your gun and holding it in his hands before tossing it to the side. “Can’t let her get her hands on this. We’ll all be dead…”

“We gonna kill’er?” One of the men spoke, his tone conveyed just how dull minded he was, probably convinced into this situation by the lunatic who’s hand is over your face. You have no idea how he was sure about you, but you didn’t care, you just wanted out of here, wanted to be back with your family. Back with him…

You tried to kick at the man in front of you, but it didn’t do much. The men holding your hands down each picked up a leg, spreading them apart as Earl stepped between them. 

“Not yet,” he muttered darkly, gathering up the skirt and petticoat you were wearing. You started thrashing around even more, but their hands were just too strong, and too determined. “She is a pretty little thing…”

No, this wasn’t happening. You weren’t stuck here, with no one around… this couldn’t be happening, right? Someone would come and stop them, they had to. Someone, anyone. 

As the men were able to get your skirt and bloomers to the ground, they struggled with the petticoat, so you broke your mouth free of the man’s hand for a long enough second to scream the only name that came to mind. 

“Arthur!”

-

John came back to Javier and Karen, holding a piece of paper in his hands. 

“I got something good. Take a look,” he opened the folded page, showing a floor plan of the entire top floor. Not only did it have the complete design, but also a room number. 

“Is that where the Marquis is?” Javier asked, drawing a finger over the biggest suite.

“I’d imagine so. It’s the most expensive room they got,” John reasoned, refolding the paper and shrugging his shoulders. “Now we just need a way in.”

Right then, their heads turned in every which direction, hearing a scream that was foreign yet somehow familiar.

“Did you hear that?” Karen’s voice perked up. She looked every which way, but standing where they were, they couldn’t determine where the sound was coming from. 

“It almost sounded like…” Javier trailed, his train of thought being silenced for a few seconds as they listened for it again. 

The air was stiffly quiet, and their hearts raced in their chests in the hushed moments, unsure of what to do, yet. 

It wasn’t until the blood curdling call of their enforcer came that they realized the situation at hand. 

“Arthur!” It rang in the air, and they now had a general direction of where it came from. 

“Shit, it’s Brooks…” Javier breathed out, his hands getting clammy from just the thought of one of their own being in trouble. “John, go find Arthur.” 

And as soon as the instructions were given, they all split up, John running towards the last place he saw Arthur, and the other two running towards the sound of the screams. 

They looked down every road, checked every nearby building with an open window. They went at a panicking speed, and still it wasn’t fast enough. 

Javier was the one to find you… and he nearly doubled over and emptied his lunch onto the ground. There were three men, and there was you, and you were completely at their mercy, a hand over your mouth and overflowing tears running down your cheeks as one man pounded you against the wall. 

He intervened immediately, pulling his gun and rushing into the scene with a yell. 

“Hey!” He shouted, his gun about to be unloaded into someone’s head. 

When they knew they were caught, they tried to scatter, dropping you to the ground without regard. Earl and one of his men got around the corner before Javier could do anything, but he shot one man in the leg, tackling him into the wall the next second. This man was bigger than he was, but he was putting up a fight to keep him down.

You never stopped crying, and how could you? Your hands shook, and your body was aching with a pain unimaginable.

“Karen!” Javier shouted, and within a moment, the woman rushed down the alleyway. She froze at the sight, her hands going over her mouth as she slowly approached. “Get the others over here.”

Hearing the command was not exactly a comfort. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this, and in this moment you just wished the earth would swallow you whole. Everything was happening at you and around you so quickly, you were trembling at every thought.

Javier was still struggling to contain the man he’d caught, the sheer size of him becoming a hassle. But he couldn’t let him go. He knew Arthur would want a say in the matter. Arthur had strong hands, and a gruesome temper when it was brought about. He’d make quick work of dismantling this man.

-

Arthur had long since ditched the idea of recon, nearly the moment they arrived. He said he was going with Mac to check out the back entrances, but once he got there he let the younger man take the lead on it, and headed directly for the general store. 

He’d made a promise he intended to keep, stepping into the establishment and going to the counter. He’d looked at a few trinkets on display, noticing some of the old and cheap pieces of jewelry they kept in the case atop one shelf. There was a ring inside, small, and nothing extravagant, but completely and totally fitting of an outlaw. The stone was not a diamond, but instead a small, dirty turquoise. He knew he could shine it up nice and pretty, so before he even got into the catalogue, he asked the shopkeeper to open the small case for him. 

He plucked the ring from the bunch, and the shopkeeper looked appalled at his decision, but there was only one thing that Arthur could think of. She’d love this…

And that’s the thought that possessed his next decision. “How much?”

“This old thing? Can’t ask for more than a dollar…” he shook his head, seeing as though this customer was extremely lacking in good taste, his opinion on the matter, anyway. 

“Sold,” Arthur joked, laying a bill on the counter and pocketing the ring. He didn’t quite know what he planned to do with it yet, but he figured he had time. 

He took a while browsing the catalog, looking through each dress in the book and making notes on the things he remembered that you liked about the first dress he bought you. It’s not too long, and easy to clean the hem. It’s lightweight cotton, and keeps you cool in this treacherous weather, supposedly springtime in the desert. It was easy to put on, minus the few buttons at the back. It had shorter mid-sleeves that accommodated your work.

All of these things he was taking into careful consideration before the door of the establishment burst open. Arthur turned and saw John, a look of fear on his features. 

“Arthur,” he let out, taking a quick breath. “It’s Charlie.” 

And then every muscle in Arthur’s body tensed, his mind immediately going to the worst case scenario. There was a duel, and someone was finally faster. It’s the only thing he could think of, but he didn’t ask. He just dropped the catalog and ran from the store with John, following him back into the square when they saw Karen. 

“We found her,” she said, shaking and crying with every step. 

“What happened?” Arthur asked angrily, but she couldn’t answer him. He would have to see it for himself. She choked out a sob and led them to the alleyway, nearly stumbling over her feet in her distraught manner.

Arthur could see everything in slow motion when he turned the corner. He froze in place for only a second or two, but with each beat of his rapid heart, he could see and feel everything that had happened. It was like the strongest dead eye a man could have.

You were on the ground, huddled against the wall. Your skirt was torn and puddled in the dirt next to you, holes be damned. Your petticoats were shoved up in a bunch, and he could see that there was blood on them, and running down the inside of your legs. You were completely disheveled, the dirt from the wall stained your skin, and your hair was a mess. When he saw your bloomers hooked around one ankle, stuck on your boot, he broke from the trance. It had only been a moment, but he feared it had been too long. 

He ran to you, kneeling down on the ground and trying to figure out the best way to touch you, if he even could. The sobs that erupted from you had broken him in a way he doesn’t think he could ever recover from. Not his Red… no.

He placed a hand at your face, as gently as he possibly could, and wiped away some tears with his thumb. More fell right after, and as he met your eyes, he couldn’t see the usual glint in them. Even when you were angry with him he could normally see it. It scared him half to death to find it gone… you weren’t even there. 

He finally turned from you, seeing how Javier had just about wrangled a man to the ground, and Arthur took one look at the man before his vision was clouded and his physicality took over.

He doesn’t even care to hold back. He moves Javier out of the way, and starts beating the man senseless. The man is begging, pleading for mercy, for forgiveness… but Arthur is an angry animal. His punches only get harder, and he can’t stop himself. He wonders for a moment if you begged and pleaded for this man to stop, and that’s when he starts to hear and feel the cracking of bone under his fist. 

He momentarily notes how John and Karen are talking to you, hearing the sobs continuously over it all. It fuels his rage, the blood dusting his fingers barely becomes a consequence. 

He cares about much. The camp, the members within it, his family for as long as he can remember… it’s all he’s been able to focus on since his last love broke his heart years ago. But then you came along. You had shown him up, you had impressed him, you had angered him, and most importantly, you had intrigued him. 

When he first began teaching you, he’d grown a fondness, something the likes of a good friend. When he was the only one who knew your secret, it became more protective, and those feelings turned into something stronger. Devotion. He wanted to do anything he could to help you, to shield you from harm. When the camp found out about you, he’d been scared. Not knowing your fate that day made him contemplate something he thought he’d never do. Leave the camp, if you’d been kicked out. His loyalty to Dutch was strong, anyone could see that… but after waiting years for the right person, his loyalty to you was now stronger.

It was then he knew his heart had been mended. He no longer feared the loving touch of a partner, he craved it. He craved you, and everything that came with it. The ring in his pocket weighed heavily, and the strain on his mind came quickly. 

He hadn’t been here, and he failed to do the one thing that had been in him since the very beginning. He didn’t protect you. He left you alone and you went through hell without him. 

“Arthur…”

He’d heard the call of his name, but took a moment to come out of his own head. 

“Arthur!” He heard it loud and clear this time. Javier stood beside him, trying to pull him away from the bloody and downright destroyed body of the man he’d been beating senselessly. “He’s already dead.” 

It’s not enough, Arthur thinks. He should be obliterated. 

“We need to get her out of here,” Karen said, sniffling her own tears long enough to get out the words. “I have to get her somewhere I can check her, make sure she doesn’t need a doctor.”

And then Arthur was back to work. He’d only now noticed that Mac had shown up, being kind enough to lay his jacket over your shoulders. He was the only one stupid enough to wear a jacket in this weather, but Arthur was grateful you would have something to shelter yourself with.

“The Inn is just a few doors down, we can get a room.” 

Arthur let John take the lead, not saying a word as he knelt down beside you again, trying to find the best way to pick you up. You were sensitive to touch, but you held onto him when he scooped you from the ground. Your entire body shook, and he had to keep himself together for you, otherwise he’d be a mess. 

“I’ve got you,” he choked out, unsure of what else he could possibly say. 

John led the group towards the Inn, and Karen went inside first to get a key. It wasn’t long before Arthur and Javier were following Karen into the building, leaving the others outside. The Inn keeper would be very confused in a days time, but it was of little consequence.

The room was thankfully on the first floor, right next to a bathing area in case it was needed. Arthur set you down on the bed in the corner, and Karen had to literally shove him along to get him outside the room to close the door. 

He knew for propriety’s sake that he needed to wait out here, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to be by your side and do everything he could to make up for his time of absence. 

He paced outside the door for a few seconds before turning to Javier. 

“What the hell happened?” 

Javier was frightened, not of Arthur, but of recalling the events as they occurred. They’re going to be burned into his memory.

“We were scouting this place, and John got a lead,” he began, taking a deep breath and rubbing the back of his neck. “We heard someone scream, but we didn’t know where it came from…”

Javier was keeping his eyes away from Arthur’s, because he knew he wouldn’t make it through the story if he didn’t. 

“A few seconds later we knew it was her, because she was screaming your name.”

Arthur got a lump in his throat just imagining it. His heart had not stopped hurting in his chest since he saw you, but knowing you called for him was too much. 

“We didn’t hear anything else, but when we found her, there were three men involved. I shot the one, wrangled him down, but the others got away.” 

“There were more?” Arthur’s tone was still on a sharp edge, but he was trying to hold back from shouting when he knew you were right behind that door. 

“We’ll find them,” Javier assured, placing his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “And we’ll kill them.”

And usually this sentiment would hold Arthur up for the time being, but right now, it was just another stab to his heart. The monsters that did this were still alive and walking. They think they got away with it. 

He turned his back to the wall, leaning against it before letting his body slide down until he was sitting. He tried to hold it back, he tried to keep himself strong… but that’s the love of his life in the room behind him, and he can’t bear the thought of everything you went through while he was off somewhere else. He will never deserve you after this. After what he believes he’s done. 

He drops his head, and Javier hears the faintest snuff. He’s almost shocked. He’s seen friends and family die in front of Arthur, but the man’s stoicism remained. He has never seen Arthur cry before. 

“You said she called for me?” His weary voice sounded faintly in the hall. 

“Arthur…” Javier knew him, and he had a good idea of what went through his head. He was a very self deprecating man, who didn’t think much of himself to begin with… but add a situation like this, where the girl he loves was abused? “You can’t blame yourself.” 

Arthur disregarded his statement, ignoring anything that might try and make him feel better. He didn’t want to feel better, he wanted to feel shitty, and let the guilt punish him.

“Did she sound scared?” He asked, knowing that he probably shouldn’t hear the answer.

“It all happened so fast, I don’t remember…” 

He was lying. The blood curdling scream still echoed in his head, but it doesn’t need to echo in Arthur’s too. Especially knowing Arthur would imagine it much worse. 

“When you found her… were they-?”

“Yes…” he cut Arthur short, not wanting to hear his question in full. “I couldn’t see everything, but her blood was on him.” 

Even just recalling the sight made Javier nauseated again. He slid into a sitting position with Arthur, head against the wall as he waited. 

Karen took a few more minutes before she came out of the room, looking directly at Arthur. 

“She doesn’t need a doctor for now, but that could change….” She shut the door behind her, not wanting you to listen in on the conversation, though the thin walls probably allowed you to, anyway. 

“Why? What’s wrong with her?”  

“She has a small tear that she’s been bleeding from… but I’ve taken care of it for the time being.” Her explanation didn’t put anyone at ease, and her next remark would do even less. “We’ll have to watch her real closely, and might even have to track her cycle.”

“Track her….” Arthur trailed, putting the pieces together in his head. He looked at Karen with an immense seriousness, his eyes wide. “You think he-?

“I don’t know. Given he was interrupted, I’m guessing not, but we still need to be sure.” 

Arthur couldn’t bear to think about what that would mean for you. What might happen if you were to fall pregnant with the baby of your abuser. He hopes it never comes to that. He hopes for the absolute best outcome for all these things concerning you, but he knows his forced optimism is probably misplaced. 

“Can I go in there?” He asked, taking his hat and holding it in his hands. 

Karen sighed out, her brows raising in thought. It’s not like he could do any harm. You trusted Arthur more than anyone. 

“I suppose,” she paused when he hastily reached for the doorknob. “Be slower than that, and be careful, ya hear?”

He nodded, his eyes closing for a moment as he took in a deep breath. 

He entered the next second, and tried to keep his reaction steady. He knew he’d be pained by the view, but he had to be beside you again. 

You looked much better than earlier, albeit slightly tired. Karen had cleaned you up, and laid you down, letting you rest amongst the sheets of the bed. They were comforting, and engulfed you in warmth and safety. As much as a piece of fabric could do, at least. 

When you saw him approaching, hat in his hands and head tilted downwards in sorrow, you tried to sit up a little, ignoring the pain between your legs in favor of seeing him face to face. 

He looked nervous to approach you, but he really shouldn’t have been. You wanted him near you. He was a source of comfort, and he was a safe haven.

“Arthur,” you spoke his name, and immediately he knew that he was in the right place. 

You didn’t look excited to see him, your face was too expressionless for that… but if he had to guess, you seemed a bit relieved when he walked in. 

“Red…” he took slow steps until he was at the edge of the bed, lowering himself as gently as he could. “I feel like a fool for asking, but are you alright?”

You huffed a breath, and it came out shakily. 

“I’m as well as I can be,” you told him, and though it was meant to make him feel better, he didn’t care to. He could hear the break of your voice. 

He nodded, dropping his head. He didn’t want you to see him cry. He wanted to be stronger for you, but he couldn’t be. 

“I think I’m still coming to terms with what just happened,” you explained, furrowing your brows and trying to continue. “It’s so strange… I don’t even remember most of it, just that I was really scared. I thought when they were done they would kill me.” 

You’ve almost never been afraid to die. From the very beginning of Texas Red, the mentality has always been ‘I’ve got nothing to lose.’

All of that changed in the alleyway. You had actual regrets, and things you’d wished to do. Things that you’d always been afraid to say because of how bad it may end up. Now you had everything to lose, and you’d been afraid you would. You’d already lost so much in that moment of time.

“They stole my gun, yknow?” You told him, curling in closer to yourself when you spoke. “I watched them take it and run.” 

You hated how much you were having to talk to fill the void of silence, but Arthur refused to speak, and didn’t look at you except once every so often. You wanted him to be here. You needed him to be present with you, to tell you that what happened wasn’t the end of the world and that you were going to be okay. 

You didn’t know what else to say to him. He was listening, that much you could tell… but you wanted him to say something, anything. 

You were already in a fragile state, but seeing him react like this was making it worse. You teared back up again, reaching your hand out. He gladly took it in his, wrapping his other hand overtop. You started crying more, and then in the silence, Arthur moved over, and wrapped you up in a cocoon of his embrace. It was so secure that you felt nothing could ever reach you. The only problem was, it already  had. You’d already been through hell in the span of an afternoon. Your sobs fell on the ears of the only person who could hear them to their fullest. He knows the depth and heaviness of each strained sound, because unlike the others, he knows what you lost.

Knowing that you were in his arms, and under his gentle touch, the thought came to your mind, the one that you’d been holding onto since it happened. 

“It was supposed to be you…” 

If Arthur hadn’t been sitting already, he would have sunk to his knees on the ground. He had known that already, but hearing you say it now made him feel lost somehow. He’d remembered your conversation from before everyone even came to El Paso. 

“I think I’m still gonna wait until I can give it to someone I love.”

He dipped his head. He definitely understood, and only wished he’d been wise enough to do the same. There was a time in his life before where he wishes he’d waited for a certain girl… but that was ages ago, and he knows his count is higher than it should be. 

“Do you think you’re close to findin’ that someone?” his voice was just above a whisper, now, and he knows that the question he’s asked is risky. He doesn’t know if he wants to know the answer, but without thinking, you give it to him. 

“Real close,” you told him, looking down at your hands when his dim-lit stare became too much.

He comes out of his memory and back to the torturesome present, his hands trembling the slightest bit from his internalized anger. It’ll never be shown to you, of course, but the rage he still feels having known this wasn’t over yet was stirring. He hates it all. He hates the men, he hates himself for not being there to protect you, but moreover, he hates that you hadn’t been Texas Red, the one time it mattered. 

He just wants to set it all right. It would be an impossible task, but he would try, starting with this moment. Keeping you in his arms for as long as you need, and heeding your every request when it is spoken. 

“I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am, sweet girl.”

You sniffled, pulling away from the crook of his neck for a moment to look at him. 

“If I had died today… and I never got to tell you…” Your words were still weak as you trailed off, so you took a deep breath to try and steady them.

“Tell me what?” 

You raised a hand to the side of his face, more tears coming to your eyes when you finally spoke the words of sincerity that you’d been holding back for so long now. Nearly since the day you met him.

“I love you, Arthur,” you let out with a shaky breath. “I only wish I’d said so before.” 

Guilt washed over him almost immediately, and for a second time, he’s absolutely taken aback by your words. He’s filled with the shame of knowing that those words had been uttered before in a different circumstance, and he never responded with the same sentiment. He’s angry now, because he had every chance to.

“You-“ He cuts himself short, shaking his head before dropping it. “You did…” 

Your confusion and curiosity outweighs your sadness for only a moment, and Arthur can see in your eyes that you’re searching for the moment it happened, but your mind turns up blank. 

“That night in the saloon,” he explained, his hands becoming looser on you. He recalls his mistakes, and feels unworthy to be holding you this tightly. “You were drunk as I've ever seen you, but you told me then… and I didn’t say it back to ya.”

His voice broke on his last words, and he took a sharp inhale afterwards to hold himself together.

“Arthur…” 

You don’t even know how to feel about it at first, but he doesn’t give you enough time to think about it. He wants to rectify everything. He looks you straight in the eye, with all the certainty he has.

“I do love you, Red. More than anything in this whole damn world, I love ya… and all this? It’s my fault,” he reflected, the dip in his tone echoing his guilt. She hated that sound, and would do anything to be rid of it. She’s already emotional over what happened, and she doesn’t want to hear him say things that aren’t true.

“No, Arthur, it’s not… I can’t let you believe that.”

He furrows his brows and averts his eyes from yours again.

“I might not be the reason it happened, but I should’ve been there with you. I’ve spent so long tryin’ to protect you, and I let it go to shit.”

You didn’t argue with him. Arthur was like an oak tree. He was strong, able to withstand any storm that blew his way… but he was also stubborn and unmoving, deeply rooted in the ground and needing the strongest of winds to even sway in the slightest. You weren’t going to change his mind, but in the future, you would try and sway him. Right now, though, you just rested in his presence, against the sturdy oak that kept you upright.

It’s quiet again, and you can hear his heart beating. It’s a welcome distraction, though it doesn’t keep your mind occupied long enough to forget about why you’re here in the first place. Earl Hayes. A man who’s voice will ring in your ears for the rest of your life. The one who took your innocence when it was meant for someone else. A gift that you can never get back. 

“Arthur, I wanna find the man that did this…” Your voice sounded, a bit muffled against his chest. “I want him to die.” 

“He will, I promise. I’ll kill him, and I’ll find your gun,” He swore, with no hesitation whatsoever. That had already been decided in his mind, so it didn’t hurt to agree with you.

“I wanna help you.” 

“I can’t let you near him,” he said sternly, but not necessarily in regard to you. Just the proposal as a whole. He didn’t like the idea of the man even getting to lay eyes on you again. He just wants to tear him limb from limb and leave nothing left. 

“You have to let me…” You argued, pushing away at arm’s length again to look him in the eyes. The glimmer has still not been restored to them, and he knows it’ll be a long road to get it back. You know it, too. It’s why you stay persistent. “I need this.”

He goes silent for a moment, considering it all. You have every right to be there when your abuser is dismembered. You’ve never been a bloodlusting outlaw, but you do have a knack for revenge, and he knows that watching the man who hurt you being tortured to death might bring some sort of peace. Knowing that he’d paid the price for what he did. 

“Alright…” he nods, his hand sweeping a strand of hair away from your face. “I understand.” 

He leaned forward, kissing the crown of your head and laying his hand ever so delicately at the side of your face before taking a deep breath. When he woke up this morning he had no idea that hours later he’d be here, tending to the girl he loves after a tragic event. 

“I need you to know,” he began, his eyes fogging up slightly from the emotion he felt. “from this day forward… I belong to you, ya hear? Anything you ever need of me, it’s done. I’ma take care of you, and be there when you need me.” 

You had a new round of tears springing about now, but for a better reason than the others came to be. He wiped them away before they could even really fall, catching them on your cheeks with the gentle touch that he reserved only for you. 

He helps to settle you back against the soft down pillows, feeling your body become tired against his own. He kisses your head once more, lingering a little longer this time, before standing up to return outside. He knows the others are probably waiting to hear something other than what Karen said.

“Arthur?” You ask gently, raising your head off the pillows.

“Yeah?” He turned around immediately, ready to stay planted like a tree until you’ve spoken what you needed.

“I don’t want everyone back at camp to know about this…” you shook your head, trying to keep your tears at bay.

He completely understood. You’d had a rough go of it with a lot of the camp members, and for better or worse, they always managed to be far too involved. 

“Then they won’t,” he nodded, “I’ll have a talk with the others, make sure they know.” 

Before he was able to get out the door, you spoke one more time.

“Thank you,” you muttered quietly.

“Don’t thank me.”

He didn’t want gratitude from you in any front. He’s going to have to work hard and long just to earn those two words from you. 

He left without another word, going to the hallway where Karen and Javier were still waiting. The group would be given specific instructions on what to do and say, and they would hold good on those instructions for Arthur’s sake and yours.

The return to camp is slightly awkward for those who actually came back. They witnessed something terrible in the daytime that they have to keep shut up about. No one else gets to know. Arthur’s orders. 

When Dutch sees the cavalcade riding in, missing two members, he immediately has suspicions. Not because two of them haven’t returned yet, but because of the specific two. He’s caught wind of something he dare not deny, and it almost irks him to have to ask. 

“Where’s Arthur and Brooks?” 

John looked to the others, trying to act natural and fill in the blanks. They had already been given a story to cover up any questions, yet somehow the others felt caught, and couldn’t answer. 

“They’re hidin’ out,” he began, pulling the piece of rolled up paper from his satchel, handing it over to Dutch. “I got this floor plan drawn up by the guy behind the desk. Told him I was scouting out a nice place for my boss to stay a couple days. He seemed to believe me well enough.” 

“This is excellent. All entry points were looked at, I’m assumin’?” 

“Yes sir,” John nodded, crossing his arms and trying to conduct himself in a nonchalant way. “Arthur and Charlie got eyes on the main entrance right now. We got a room on the bottom floor of the place, and we can watch everyone that goes in or out.”

“And the security measures?” Dutch asked with a narrow stare. 

“One man stationed at the door.” John is calm and collected over this ordeal, while the others stay silent. The job is in the back of their minds and yet they have to stand here and act like nothing happened.

“I believe we’ve got ourselves an ideal job here, boys,” Dutch replied, his intuition not picking up on the stiffness coming from the other three outlaws standing by. “As soon as that Marquis leaves his room for the mountains, we’ll strike.”

When everyone was dispersed, Hosea was the first to notice something was wrong. He sensed that John was the head of the cover up, whatever it was, and knew that he wasn’t a viable option for approach. 

He went for Javier instead, which was just as bad of an idea, only he didn’t know it. 

“Arthur and Brooks are still in town?” Hosea came up beside him, accidentally spooking him slightly. 

“Yes, that’s right,” Javier breathed out, but he was tense, more than the others. 

“Arthur always reports back to Dutch before a job…” the older man trailed off, brows furrowing over the matter.

Arthur was a loyal dog. He clung to the gang and his position within it. Any stray from tradition would indicate something more important coming to pass, and Hosea was dying to know what it was.

“He thought it would be best to keep an eye on the building.” 

Javier tried to busy himself after his reply, but it wasn’t enough to keep Hosea from coming to his own conclusions. 

“Something happened, didn’t it?” He asked solemnly. His hope was that the two outlaws left in town were alright. He knows they’re alive, otherwise the group that returned home would have panicked. Instead they were very calm, and secretive. They were hiding something. 

Javier looks over his shoulder to Hosea, a sigh on his lips. 

“I can’t tell you,” he whispered just loud enough for Hosea to hear. “He made it very clear…”

Javier is still reliving that moment in the alley over and over again. He was the only one who actually saw what those men did, and it’s a sight he wishes would leave him. The force of strength against a young girl, the blood on her legs and on the man who took advantage of her. The screams for help that never passed the dirty hands of a disgusting man. 

“I understand.” With a scratch to the bottom of his chin, the older man had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. 

Something happened to Brooks, he thinks.

Hosea has been witnessing it for some time now, the slow yet steady growth of affection between two outlaws in camp. One being the stoic brute with a soft side, and the other being the red haired firecracker with anger issues. 

Arthur is protecting her, somehow, some way. That’s why they’re still in town. 

He didn’t press any further, but he knew that whatever happened was still going on to some degree. There wouldn’t be any reason to lie about it otherwise.

-

You got past the job. Sort of. 

Arthur insisted that you and him be the ‘lookout’ on the bottom floor for the entirety of the time, and nobody bat an eye… but you didn’t do anything. You stayed in the room you’d been in all day, letting the others raid the Marquis’ room through the window of the suite. You’d been able to pass along the information about the ledge and the terrace. It hadn’t been worth it at this point, but Bill and Sean were grateful for it, given that they had actually searched the room. 

The job turned up around three thousand dollars in the end. Enough money for the gang to support its backend for a while. The Marquis never even knew what he lost until after he was gone from the town later that afternoon. No one was the wiser about the Van Der Linde’s being responsible, either. 

It was overall a clean break, minus one steep price, which was yours to pay. No one knew, no one needed to know. 

‘Act like you’ve forgotten about it’ Arthur had told those who were present, and they listened. You’d get the odd glance from Karen and John, looks of sympathy from Javier… but no one noticed and no one cared. It was back to business as usual, and you did your best to play the part. 

It felt weird, being in the camp afterwards. You stopped sitting around the fire for a drink at night, and you stopped socializing in the daytime with the other girls between work. You barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t Arthur, and that was because he always approached you first. The others tried to from time to time, but you didn’t give much effort to keep up the conversations. 

They all assumed you were just moody from the summer months setting in closer. 

Truth be told, it did have its effects. You’d find yourself overheated and overwhelmed several days, having to step back from camp with a wet rag and breath a little. 

The worst were the nights. Nothing to distract you, no work for your hands or distant chatter to eavesdrop on. Just silence, and a small closed off space in your tent on the edge of camp. You’d always been set up by Arthur’s wagon, just a few feet away. Since you were just Texas Red, he’s always been within arm’s reach. 

Sitting alone in your tent every night, he feels the furthest away he’s ever been. And it hurts you to feel that way. He’s given you an undying declaration of his devotion to you, and yet you feel distant from him. It’s a sad and guilty feeling, because you know you’re the reason for the distance. You could just ask for him and he’d be by your side, but you feel embarrassed every time you think about it. You’re tougher than this, tougher than needing to be coddled. So many women experience this same thing, and you know it, and you know that they’re probably stronger and more resilient than you. Arthur wouldn’t think any less of you, and you know that, but just the thought of groveling from what happened makes your skin crawl. 

You curl into yourself on your cot, sitting up straight and bitting your thumb to keep the sounds at bay when the tears start rolling. There’s still a few stragglers by the camp fire, and you know if you don’t keep quiet, someone will come looking… but when the fire goes out…

You let it loose, still small enough that the camp won’t be bothered, but just loud enough that the camp enforcer catches the tail end of a sniffle when he walks by behind the tented cloth. 

He ducks his head in immediately, face falling into a dim frown when he sees you curled against yourself like that. 

You don’t say anything to him, just turn your head away to try and save face before he rushes in. It’s his job, though. He’s already committed to it, and told you as much. He wants to be there, for all of it. He knows the reason for your tears, and he wants to hold you until you can feel the weight shift from your shoulders to his.

“I’ve got you, sweet girl,” he rushed to your side, laying beside you and making sure you were tucked closely between his arms. “You’re alright now. Ain’t never gonna let it happen again.”

Your body was shaking, which was a new occurrence. You didn’t used to tremble like this when you cried, and it pulled at his heart to see the effects you went through. 

“He stole it from me, Arthur…” you trailed, the quiet and hidden sobs breaking apart your words. “The one thing I had to give, and he stole it.” 

He didn’t want to be angry at you, because it wasn’t your fault, but he hated that you thought of yourself that way.

“Red, you gotta know you’re worth more than that.”

“I saved it all that time,” you shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut to try and dispel some of the tears. “all for nothin’, now…” 

He could admit, he understood your anger. Having waited on something for so long without any profit or satisfaction of payoff is difficult, especially something of such a high caliber. He’d do anything to return it to you, if it were even possible. This road you were walking was something he could probably never understand.

“I know,” he told you, “but he’s gonna die. Slowly.” 

“I just want it back. I want what he took from me,” you cried, clinging to him like he was your only vice. “And I want my gun. He took that away, too.” 

Arthur nodded, trying to soothe you as best he can. He’s never been good at this sort of thing. He would always turn heel at the first sign of tears in camp, knowing he wasn’t much of a consolation… but he’s trying his best for you. He is the only one who knows how severe the situation is, even among those who witnessed it in real time. He knows the aftermath of what happened has to fall on him.

“I don’t know who I am without that gun.” Your voice sounded hollow almost, and it scared him.

“You’re still you,” he immediately told you, his grasp becoming the slightest bit tighter.

“No,” you looked up at him through tear filled lashes. “You don’t understand. Without that gun, I’m not Texas Red, and I’m not Charlie Brooks, either. I’m just a scared kid that doesn’t know where to go or what to do. It’s what I was before I ever found it… and it’s what I am now.”

He doesn’t know what to say or do for a moment. He’s so taken aback by your admission that he really has to think about how to respond.

You’ve always been Texas Red to him. Always been cocky, somewhat arrogant, and full of the confidence that only comes from a gunslinger of your skill. He’s never known you without your gun, but he knows for a fact it isn’t some magical object that gives you the abilities you’ve been blessed with. Before you had it though? Well, he didn’t know you back then. 

“It’s just a gun, Red. It’s not what makes you special…” he trails. He believes it wholeheartedly, but he knows in this fragile moment that you don’t. You shake your head to brush off his words but he isn’t finished.

He reaches for his own gun, sliding it from the holster and into your hands. You barely grasp it at first until he wraps your fingers around the handle like it was meant to be there.

“If I put this in your hands, you’re still just as fast,” he says confidently, not a doubt in his mind. “If I give you a can to shoot and I fire off a round myself, your bullet still hits first.” He knew it was a while ago, but he thinks about that first moment a lot. The first time he’d been genuinely intimidated by another gunslinger. “You remember that?”

You sniffled, smiling with a nod. If anyone else had tried to make you see things differently, you doubt it would have happened. Arthur gave a perspective that no one else ever could. He knew you inside and out by now.

“I remember… it was the first time I’d been scared of someone in a long while.” 

He chuckled under his breath at your response, holding you close to him again and kissing the top of your head gently.

“If I’m scary, that makes you terrifying,” he let out. His hands never stopped caressing the skin they had access to, drawing invisible lines of light touch. His fingertips even held a great reverence for you.

He seemed tired, the longer he sat here in silence, and even though you wanted him to rest, you didn’t want to be without him. You knew that the second he was gone it would all unravel again, and the lonesomeness would feed your mind’s sadness.

“Arthur, stay with me?” You asked, clinging tighter to him in an attempt to show your need of him. 

“Of course I will.”

-

Some days pass, and slowly but surely, Arthur starts moving pieces of your camp to his. It’s only four days total until your cot is pushed up next to his, and your tent cloth is used to wrap around the perimeter of his living space, closing it in from the rest of the area. 

Rumors are big with the Van Der Linde’s, something you learned early on, but they don’t really have much to go off of when Arthur starts acting so… domestic. In their minds, the only explanation of him being so protective and acting in servitude is that he’s doing so for reason of family. Meaning, they think Arthur knocked you up. 

Abigail, who hadn’t really thought about it much until the rumors, was all too happy to approach you. She’s the only one with a right to do so, knowing how it had been when she was carrying Jack. 

When you’re by yourself after breakfast, she takes it upon herself to be outright, and confronts you with the question that made the most sense to start with.

“When’s the last time you bled?” She corners you, checking left and right to make sure no one else can hear.

It takes you a minute to fully understand the weight of what she’s asking. You haven’t exactly been focused on it, but you know that if you count back to the last cycle you had, you were probably late.

“I don’t… I don’t remember-“ your eyes widened, and your breath shuddered out. This wasn’t something you needed right now, on top of everything else.

“I knew it. I told Tilly just last week that I didn’t think Arthur was bein’ careful,” she shakes her head, placing her hands in her hips. 

She doesn’t know, and you can’t bring yourself to tell her about what happened, but now you have another heaviness on your shoulders to bear. You can’t be pregnant, you can’t be pregnant, you can’t be pregnant.

“Do you really think that’s what it is?” You ask, trying to prevent yourself from having a panic attack in the middle of camp. 

She shrugs, running a hand over her hair, trying to rid herself of some of the sweat gathered there. 

“We’ll know this time next month for sure,” she huffs, raising her brows and shaking her head again. She thinks it’s simply just a case of Arthur being irresponsible, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

You nod to her, excusing yourself and walking speedily away from the camp. You know that if you encounter anyone else right now you’ll just fall apart. 

It wouldn’t be so bad if you had this kind of a scare with Arthur. You want everything with him. You want a life, a family… but one man with a need for vengeance has ruined all of that. He has ruined you. 

Arthur finds you behind one of the shady desert trees not long after you get to it. You assume he probably saw you leave in a hasty manner, and came as soon as he could. You hate to worry him, but it’s nice to know that he does. 

“Y’alright, sweet girl?” He comes up beside you, seeing as you were in a fragile state. Your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you leaned against a tree, head down to hide the fact that you were crying at all.

When you shook your head, unable to look at him, he did the one thing he does best. Protect you. 

He stood in front of you, arms on each side of your shoulders on the tree to make sure if anyone came by, they wouldn’t see you falling apart. He didn’t try to touch you or make any bold moves just yet. He just let you get it out, and let you be.

 You probably wanted to be by yourself, having come a bit away from camp… but he wasn’t gonna let you cry alone. He’d just stand here and make sure you had some privacy from those who didn’t understand, and be here when you were ready to talk, or touch, or whatever else you needed of him. 

You lifted your eyes to meet his, the tears having come to a slight halt. You sniffed and let out a breath, trying to focus on his features. They have always calmed you before, and you see no reason that now should be any different. 

“Arthur, I’m scared,” you let out, hands trembling as you pull them tighter around your arms. “Abigail thinks I might be pregnant.” 

His face falls, but he tries to keep a calm about himself for your sake. He doesn’t know what to say or do. All he can think about is how his rage and thirst for revenge has not quenched in the slightest. Earl Hayes is the devil, and with or without God’s help, Arthur knows he’s going to send him straight back to hell where he came from. 

“Do you…?” He trails off, wiping a hand over his face to try and pull himself together. His other hand clenched into a fist on the tree. “Do you think she’s right?” 

You shrug your shoulders, furrowing your eyebrows as you shake your head in thought. “I don’t know… I’m not really sure what other signs I need to look for other than the normal.”

“The normal?” He asks, slightly confused. He knows well enough how a woman works, but all the little specifics, and whatever is deemed ‘normal’ is usually lost on him.

You find his eyes again before dropping them to your feet. Suddenly your boots are very interesting to look at. 

“I ain’t bled for a while,” you explained, the thought of Abigail being right somehow starting to solidify within you. It makes your stomach turn, but then again, that could just be another sign. 

“Shit…” he says under his breath. 

No matter what happens, he’s here. He’s always gonna be by your side, and he’s made clear of that fact several times. He just hopes that whatever happens, you’ll let him help. You won’t push him away or keep him at arm’s length. He longs to do nothing but serve you in the ways he’s always served the gang. A loyal dog, and a valiant soldier, Arthur Morgan is the most valuable person in camp. You know you’re lucky to have him. 

He’s the best of the men, you remember one of the girls saying. 

“I don’t want it to be true,” you shake your head, tears coming back to the surface as you tuck your head again. 

He can’t stand by another second without holding you. He knows you feel comfort by him, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do the utmost to make you feel comforted in times of trouble. 

He thinks about the future for a moment, trying to put it all into perspective. 

In theory, if you are pregnant, he’s prepared to raise a kid that ain’t his if you tell him to. And even though he hates the bastard that did this, he knows he’d love the kid as his own because it would belong to you. 

On the other side of the fence, he thinks about the possibility of Abigail being wrong. If you’re not pregnant, then you both have years ahead of you to decide whether or not it’s a road you wanna go down. 

“You’re gonna be alright, ya hear?” He whispered against your hair, hand combing through the windblown strands. “I’m right with you. It’s gonna be alright.”

-

You didn’t mean for anyone but the few people who were sworn to secrecy to find out what happened that day, but Hosea had been rolling over his suspicions for weeks, now. 

Since the heist, you’ve been on zero jobs. You’ve refused to go into town unless Arthur specifically asked you to accompany him. You’ve been very quiet and timid, and he just knows it isn’t like you. Even after the Texas Red facade wore off within the confines of camp, you were rowdy. You were rowdy and you were loud. Pearson’s description of you was one of the easiest ways a person could get the jist of your personality in seconds. ‘The carrot top that keeps heads spinning.’

He knows that whatever happened on the day before the heist, it couldn’t have been good. It affected you even to this day. And he noticed it when the others didn’t. 

He knows he can’t go looking for answers in the few that were by your side that day, so he cuts the corner completely and just goes to you. 

You’re doing your weekly routine of cleaning the rifles and sharpening the hunting knives when he finds you, sat quietly in the corner of camp, focused on the task at hand. 

Even the way you attend to your chores looks different. 

“Afternoon, Miss Brooks,” he settles himself down a few feet beside you, a book in his hand that he’d been reading before his thoughts brought him here. 

“Hosea,” you nod with a smile, setting down the rifle to listen to whatever he has to say. He doesn’t often come and sit by you unless he really wants to talk. Usually, you aren’t the quiet type that just sits for company. 

“It’s been a hot one today, but it’s nice n’ shady here,” he says, giving a justification as to his reasons for sitting beside you, though you don’t need them. You love Hosea’s gentle presence whenever it appears. 

“It’s not so bad as last week,” you shrug, continuing on the rifle, but doing so in a slow and somewhat half-assed manner. Mostly just to look like you’re doing something so Miss Grimshaw doesn’t bite you in the ass for slacking.

“Perhaps not,” he sighed, preparing the opening he’d thought of on the way over. “Still too hot for the fires at night.” 

“I haven’t been out for em’ lately,” you responded, unknowingly giving him the chance to ask a question. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you why you haven’t,” he paused, turning to you and giving a little smirk, “I miss your little shots at Bill when he’s misbehavin’.” 

“I guess I’ve been gettin’ tired easy… used to be able to stay up till sunrise, but now,” you shrugged yet again, and didn’t really finish your train of thought. 

You think that maybe he’s just being kind, asking after you when you haven’t been around, or rather, haven’t been interacting… but then he surprises you.

“I think it’s got something to do with what happened in town,” he suggests, although he doesn’t elaborate, and you desperately wish he would. 

Your eyes are stuck to his, and your face is frozen. You don’t blink or move or even breath for a second, trying to figure out what he knows, and how. 

“I don’t-“ you stutter, words failing at the worst of times. “What do you-?”

“I don’t know what happened, but I know something did,” he assure you, but it does little to settle your nerves. “When the others returned from recon, they were all… bothered, in some way. They wouldn’t speak of it, and tried to convince me that all was well.” 

“But?” You asked, knowing there was always a negation. 

“But,” he nodded, his fingers lacing together after he dropped his book to the dirt. “You n’ Arthur were the only ones who didn’t come back… and Arthur always comes back.” 

Oh. 

Yes, he does always come back, because he’s loyal, he’s thoughtful of those who need him, and he’s personal about delivering information to Dutch. It made no sense for him to stay in town, unless something had been wrong. Dutch may not have picked up on it, but Hosea was always Arthur’s closer mentor and father figure. He would have detected even the slightest stray from character a mile away. 

“You expectin’ me to tell ya?” You asked softly, hopeful that he would say no and you could just let him wonder, but Hosea was never so impersonal with the camp members. He liked to talk with everyone, and know them by their stories. He was good to you, and had been there in the rocky times when the other camp members were cold or a bit mean to you. Past Arthur and Abigail, he’s the closest thing to a family member you’ve got. 

“I don’t expect anything, but I’m here to listen to whatever you care to tell me,” he admitted. 

It crossed your mind to pick up the rifle in your hands and keep washing it clean, to tell him that you really had work to do and maybe he could come back and chat another time… but you’ve been holding it in for so long, and the only person you’ve discussed it with is Arthur. The others who were present that day are too uncomfortable to bring it up to you, and for good reason. 

You heave a deep breath before turning to him. 

“I was… violated by a man n’ his friends that day,” you shared, a cringe on your face when the words came to out. “I guess I killed his buddy, and he recognized me.” 

Hosea’s face drops, and it all comes together. You’re Arthur’s girl, and something like that happening to you meant he’d be by your side, not the camp’s. 

He knows that most of the speculation about yours and Arthur’s relationship until now had been just that. Speculation and camp rumors. He understands, though, that this terrible situation was a wake up call for Arthur. No more playing around. No more games that involved you tip toeing around each other without getting serious.

He looks at you and sighs. If only it didn’t have to take something so drastic for you both to come together. He knows you’re not the same because of what happened, and it saddens him to finally know the reason. 

“I’m very sorry, darlin’,” he muttered, thinking about what else he could possibly say. Maybe just check on the care you’ve been getting… “has Arthur been takin’ good care of ya after-?”

You nod rapidly, a small and faint smile across your face when you think about him. Your life was changed that day, but if one good thing came out of it, you know it was Arthur’s devotion. He’d shown it to you in some way or another since the beginning, but now it was clear and evident.

“He’s always taken good care of me… now I’m just with ‘im,” you explained, eyes dropping back to the dirty rifle. 

Hosea smiled, nodding his head in understanding. “I’ll let you get back to those guns… but, miss Brooks?”

You watched him stand, looking to his eyes. “Yes?”

“If you need to talk, about anything at all…”

“I know where to find you,” you said with a little chuckle, pausing before bringing your words to a finish. “Hosea, do you think we could just keep this between us? I already asked the others not to say anything…”

“Of course.”

-

Javier found the second man. Or at least he thinks he has…

“She’ll have to go with you to make sure,” he explained, unpacking his saddlebag and hastily putting everything down. “But he’s there. Drinking in the saloon.” 

Arthur nods to him, thoughts running through his head a million miles an hour, but he understands this opportunity is fleeting, so he seeks you out. 

The reaction is immediate, the way you drop everything you were doing and run for your hat. You refuse to leave camp without the Texas Red facade, now. Obviously for good reason. 

When you saddle up your horse, you practically cut yourself on the sharp edge of the buckle for how fast you were going. Town awaits, and you have every intention of coming back with a form of revenge. However small it may be.

Arthur is the first to set foot in the saloon, with you in tow behind him, just barely protected from the saloon’s population. A quick scan of the bar reveals exactly the man you’re looking for. He’s borderline drunk, rambling on to the bartender about God knows what. His beard is covered in drool, and droplets of whatever alcohol has put him in this condition. He’s about to sober up real fast.

“That’s him,” you nod to the man at the counter, his hands and arms in full display were showing he was currently unarmed.

“You sure?” He tipped his head down to you, knowing that once he got his hands on this man, his death warrant was signed.

“Positive… I recognize his tattoo.”

It was just a small crest, likely of family heritage. But the smudgy black ink and the poorly drawn lines made it easy to pick out of a lineup. You remember that tattoo right in front of your face not too long ago.

Arthur came up with the quickest route possible, inviting the man outside for a chat. Being as drunk as he was, the man immediately complies. It was almost too easy, and you say a thankful prayer under your breath that no one has to put up a fight. 

You can tell he’s dazed completely when he walks passed you, not even glancing in your direction. He has no idea who he just encountered, and that much is clear. 

You turn heel and follow them out the door when there’s enough distance, going into the alley on the side of the building. It’s dark, and it’s hidden. But Arthur told you to stand guard of the alley, and not to let anyone cross the threshold of the quiet corner. It was best that nobody saw this man get brutalized.

“You best tell me where your buddy’s hidin’ or I’m gonna beat you till your head falls off, understand me?” He threw punch after punch, keeping a certain rhythm that made the man dizzy with pain.

“I’m just a farmer, I ain’t know nothin’,” he cried, but Arthur didn’t let up. He’d never let up for what these men did to you. 

Every time he throws his fist, he remembers how he found you, curled into yourself on the ground, blood down your thighs, dirt on your back. The tears in your eyes would have been enough for him to bring the world to its knees, but the sight of your bloomers around your ankle had been the thing that drove him to the edge. They’d been torn, and there was nothing you could have done to prevent it.

You tried to keep watch, your back turned to the scene, but every punch was like a jolt of satisfaction, and you wanted to turn around and see. You craved knowing just how much pain this man was in. He held you down, and he watched his buddy hurt you worse than anyone ever has. You want him to feel that pain, and Arthur is all too happy to help.

“I don’t care what you are,” he finally responded, blood dripping over his knuckles, but not his own. “Where is Earl Hayes?” 

Silence follows, and Arthur knows that it’s just a terrible man’s last attempt at trying to show he’s not a coward. Now he doesn’t hold back, using his bare hands to break bone under the man’s skin, and bring forth new places of pain the likes this man can’t handle. They most often never can.

“Fine! Fine, I’ll tell you,” he cries out, his weak hand coming up to defend what’s left of himself. He’s a deadman walking anyway, but the pain is indescribable, and he knows that the brute in front of him won’t let up until he speaks.

“Where?” Arthur holds his fist where the man can see it, and shows no signs of bluffing.

“He’s hidin’ out on beggar’s mountain. There’s a cabin up there that his family owns… he’s by ‘imself,” he rambles on, his voice shaky and his breathing ragged. You imagine his lungs are probably trying to inhale beneath broken ribs, and it can’t be easy.

“You swear?” Arthur looks him in the eye for the first time. He’s not always good at judging character, but he can tell when someone’s lying to him.

“I do, I swear!” 

The pitiful sound was music to your ears. You’d cried like in front of him, and now the favor has been returned. Arthur takes a step back, knowing that the man can’t run anywhere in his condition. 

“Alright… Red, you believe him?” He asks, finally letting you turn around. You both got what you came for, and you wanted to go home. 

“Yeah, I believe him.” 

And then without any sort of warning, Arthur pulls his gun out and shoots him straight in the face. He didn’t even have a moment to beg for his life before it was gone.

It’s now when you look at Arthur that you can see him covered in blood, none of it being his own. He’ll have to make a run for his horse to avoid suspicion from the folk around town. Even though El Paso hasn’t had a significant amount of law folk, the crimes committed are still punishable, and it’s best to stay out of the town jail. 

Arthur doesn’t speak on the ride back to camp, and neither do you. Everyone is nearly asleep when you arrive anyway, with only a few exceptions. Javier is still strumming his guitar by the fire, and Pearson is still cleaning up from the day’s work. Uncle is passed out against a tree again, an empty mug in hand. 

It was peaceful, and quiet. It was serene, and comfortable. The camp was a safe space for you, but it didn’t ever feel quite right unless Arthur was there. He brought a presence to the group that was more than just protection. He could make you smile at the drop of a hat, and laugh even easier. He could be the most angry man in camp on any given day, and still somehow show more joy than the others. He loved this camp, this gang… this family. And moreover, he loved you. He showed you every day just how much. 

You’d gotten settled into your tent, much bigger now that it was combined with Arthur’s. 

When he heaved a heavy sigh, sitting back into the cot, you looked him over. He was too tired to go and wash himself up, but the blood would dry over and become unbearable if it didn’t get cleaned from his skin. 

You knelt down in front of him, examining everywhere the blood had landed. He looked at you all sleepy like, but smiled all the same when you ran a hand through his hair, a little bit of sweat lingering on his hairline and forehead. 

You stood up quickly, going for one of the available wash basins before returning to where you’d knelt before him. 

“You don’t gotta…” he trailed, not having a real moment to really protest before you shut him up. 

“Let me,” you said firmly. It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command.

You started on his face, wiping the small splatters with a now dampened rag. You were gentle in each stroke, making sure you got every little drop before moving on to his neck, where only a little bit remained. Most of the blood had been centered on his hands and forearms, which were the closest to the man’s body as he practically disassembled it. 

It should scare you, how strong he is. It should terrify you that with the smallest flick of his wrist, a grown man can die. It’s something that is unspoken by the members of camp, but they all hold a certain reverence to Arthur that you don’t feel the need to. He could bring down ten men single handedly, maybe more… but you’re not afraid of him. You don’t even feel the slightest aversion towards his strength and power. 

He has already proven in many ways that you control that power. Everything he does, he does for you, and you have come to understand that fully. His gentleness and kindness is reserved for you, but likewise, his anger and brutality is reserved for you, in any way you deem it necessary to be used. The man you’re hunting is not safe. His days are numbered and Arthur is at the end of them. You feel peace knowing that he’s going to make the ground even again.

“I don’t think I beat him hard enough,” he spoke, taking you out of your thoughts. You’d been carefully scrubbing the skin of his forearm, dipping the rag back in when it became too red.

“You beat him within an inch of his life, and then you took it,” you recalled, trying not to think of it fondly for how violent it was. “S’as good as it was gonna get, I reckon.”

You smile, moving to his hands to wipe his knuckles off. When they were clean, you kissed each one, and he pulled one out of your grasp, touching your bottom lip. The heat of the moment has you leaning into that touch, but not going past it. He’s so close, you can feel the warmth from his face radiating off his skin. Arthur always ran hot, and you could pick that warmth out of a lineup. 

“Arthur,” you breathed out. 

You awaited the day he would kiss you for the first time. After every line that’s already been crossed, it’s something you crave, but you know why he doesn’t do it, and you try to respect him for it.

“I know…” he let his finger drop, his hand holding the side of your face when you lean into it. “I know, sweet girl.” 

He doesn’t feel worthy enough. He knows he won’t until he’s avenged your virtue. It would have never mattered to him had you taken other lovers in your past, but knowing that you’d been violated before you could even experience that kind of pleasure pained him. He wanted to avenge you in every sense of the word. He wanted to avenge the person you were before it happened. He wanted to bring her back. Then he’d be worthy, and then he could kiss you. Gently, delicately, and with all the love that you deserved in the first place.

After sitting there and realizing he still wasn’t going to budge, you kissed his palm, standing up to put everything away. After that came the mundane task of getting ready for bed. Arthur still turns away when you change your clothes, only helping here and there if you absolutely need it… but having been Texas Red for the day, you’re able to do it all on your own. 

Once back in a chemise and bloomers you lay down on your side of the conjoined cot, curling up and waiting for your bed partner to join you. You knew if it was up to him, he wouldn’t sleep beside you… but you’ve made it clear that you need him to be able to go through the night without waking, so he does it on that account. He takes his turn, undressing down to his union suit before taking his side. He’s so much bigger than you in all aspects, looking like a strong mountain when he lays down to rest. 

You turn over to face him when he finally settles. He takes a strand of hair in his fingers and pulls it away from your face, laying it back with the rest of the unruly stands. You know that if you want to keep up the Texas Red act, you probably need to cut it again soon. 

He lays silently across from you, but lets his eyes wander over every part of your face whilst he does so. It relaxes him to see you in such a peaceful state. It relaxes him knowing that you’re safe with him, and not somewhere else. 

“I haven’t thanked you, for everything you’ve done for me lately,” you whispered, tucking your head against his chest and wrapping your arms around his midsection.

“Because you don’t have to. You know I’d do it anyway.” 

You did know that, and he’s made himself abundantly clear on several occasions.

“But I am grateful, Arthur… you have no idea,” you continued, breathing him in as deeply as you could.

He pulled you back just enough that he could see your eyes, sleepy and full of the day behind you, but slowly regaining the glint that had been gone since the incident.

“All of this is of no inconvenience to me. I can’t rest at night unless I know you’re taken care of… and as for Mr. Hayes, devil that he is,” his voice dropped lower when he mentioned the name of the man who wronged you, the taste of it feeling like acid in his mouth. “When we find ‘im, I’m gonna rip him apart. He’ll never touch you again.” 

And you know he means it. It’s these few words every night, the smell and seemingly insignificant promises that make you feel safe enough to fall asleep.

-

The sun rises, and then it’s time for a man to die. 

He doesn’t know it yet. He’s comfortably settled in the side of a mountain range in a small cabin. He’s probably sitting and watching the same sunrise, drinking from a flask and thinking that nothing could ever harm him. 

It’s good that he has that security. It’s good that he thinks he’s safe. It means he won’t run until the last second. 

You didn’t speak a word to Arthur, yet. Your mind is focused, and you can’t be bothered to interact with more than a nod or a shake of the head. He knows, you have endless thoughts running around. 

This man has ruined everything. You are not the same person you used to be. You can’t smile without it aching, and you can’t think about certain things without traumatic memories slipping through. You can’t even go to sleep at night without Arthur, because if you do, you wake up crying. All these are just motivation now. You’ll deal with them again when you return, but right now you’re clinging to the feeling associated with them to help you feel stronger. More angry and determined.

Arthur stays quiet, only speaking when necessary, and letting you keep your own space. He gives the occasional hum to alert you if he holds something out for you to take, or he gives you a small nudge. Otherwise the environment feels very calm and singular. 

By the time you leave your tent, you almost jump in surprise of who is there to immediately greet you. 

“John,” Arthur nods, trying to step past him, but the younger man keeps in step.

“Wait,” he hold a hand up, stopping you both from leaving. “I know where you’re going. I wanna come, too.” 

Arthur shook his head, “No.” 

“Arthur,” John pleaded, his eyes searching his friend’s for a sense of emotion he could latch onto. “I was gone a long time, and when I was, you took care of Abigail and Jack. I wanna pay it forward.” 

It would take a lot more than this to make up for that lost time, but he thinks this is a start, and you understand why he wants it so bad. 

“It ain’t up to me,” Arthur let out with a sigh, turning to you. 

His expression tells you he’ll do whatever you want, but you already knew that. You don’t even give it another thought. You could use the help if this Earl Hayes is half as agonizing to deal with as he was the first time. 

You nod to Arthur, and from there it’s all set into motion. 

Two horses are saddled. You’re riding with Arthur. 

The open plains leading up to the mountain side are completely empty and covered in dirt and half dead plants. El Paso is among the uglier places you’ve been to, but it feels symbolic somehow. Bad things happened in this town, so it almost feels right that everywhere you look is a barren wasteland. An outward show of an inward feeling.

The mountainside is more picturesque, with trees and a small stream running through. The sun getting higher in the sky reflects off the rippling current. It’s almost enough to distract you until you come into view of the cabin. 

The second you see it your stomach drops. You can’t explain how or why, but suddenly you wish you weren’t here. You wish you were back in your cot with Arthur, lazily keeping track of the morning hours while he plays with your hair. 

You feel extremely frightened just by the the four walls of that cabin. He’s within them, and you’re about to encounter him for the second time. 

Arthur dismounts the horse, and John does the same, but they both lock eyes on you when they notice you haven’t moved. 

“Red?” Arthur asks gently, his hand settling on your knee where it still straddles the back of his horse. 

You look in his direction, tears backing your eyes and a grim expression on the rest of your face. He asks a million questions at once with one gaze, but you answer only the most important one with a simple nod. Are you alright?

You get off the horse and follow behind them. 

You’re going along with them but you’re not really paying attention to anything they say. You miss the making of the plan, and Arthur knows that your head is somewhere completely different. He doesn’t say anything to check you on it. It’s not his place to do such a thing. He’s here for you, and if you need space during this, that’s okay. He’s going to carry out the plan, and you can be a part of it in any way you see fit. This is for you, and you get to decide what your actions are.

You stand off to the side of the entrance when they first enter, and wait for them to bring the perpetrator outside his small confinement. 

Your ears are nearly numb to the shouts. Earl Hayes is much louder than you assumed he would be. You almost don’t believe it’s him, until they drag him out and throw him to the ground, guns out and pointed at his head. You freeze again, catching eyes with the man that started it all. You should feel power by looking down on him. You should feel an immense sense of calm knowing that you have two strong and capable outlaws who are willing to tear this man apart for you. But you don’t. 

“You,” he snarled, face contorting into a deep grimace. He was even uglier than the lands of El Paso. “I knew I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”

“Shut the hell up,” John said, gun still pointed at his head, while Arthur holstered his and knelt down to grab him by the shirt. 

“You know why we’re here?” He asked rhetorically, almost a statement of fact more than a question. Of course he does. “And I reckon you know what’s about to happen.” 

Earl lifted his chin high in the air, the arrogance and pride he still wore was astounding for someone who was about to be dismantled like a dead animal while he was still breathing.

“She killed my best friend,” he sneered, trying to justify himself as if it would make a difference. 

Arthur had to keep his cool in this moment. He knew that if he started just beating the man senseless, he’d die too fast, just like the man in the alleyway from last night. Of course, the bullet got him in the end. 

“Red?” Arthur threw a glance over his shoulder, first to check on you, and secondly to ask you, “which hand he touch you with first?”

You were timid in your answer, and you shouldn’t be, but you couldn’t help it. Your voice got caught in your throat before you stepped forward and answered with a point of your finger. 

“The right one.” 

Arthur nodded, turning back to Earl and shoving him onto his back. John came and stepped a foot on his chest to keep him from moving while Arthur pulled his hunting knife. 

You had a front row seat to watch as Arthur made quick work of cutting his hand off, severing everything he could in the man’s forearm to make him feel it worse. The screams that erupted were haunting. You want to remember the sound of those screams for the rest of your life, knowing they were caused on your behalf… but for some reason the thought of it turns your stomach.

“You fuckin’ bitch!” Earl’s voice echoed, his head turning to you. 

Arthur punched him as soon as the words left his mouth. 

“Think we oughta shut him up proper,” John suggested, his foot on the man’s chest digging in as he took a knee. 

This time it was Arthur’s turn to hold him down while John cut out his tongue. No more words for the man spewing bullshit. 

Cuts and slashes were made all over the man as he wriggled around in the dirt, but the next big check off the list of dismemberment was the part of him that violated you. Arthur wouldn’t be happy with his work until he’d separated it from his body completely. John assisted him in getting access to his manhood, throwing the occasional punch to stop the screaming that came from a tongueless mouth. With one swift chop of a hunting knife, Earl Hayes lost the right to call himself a man. 

You closed your eyes tightly, trying to take yourself out of the moment. Everything was happening too fast. Too much too fast, all at once. 

The second you saw the back of your eyelids, it started replaying in your head. That day in the alley, against the brick walls covered in dirt. A dirty, sweat salty hand over your mouth, and a burn between your legs that made you want to vomit. 

Your eyes opened wide, and you tried to come back to reality. This man can’t hurt you anymore, he’s about to die… Arthur is about to kill him.

You came closer, thinking that seeing this would bring you satisfaction and stop the visions of what he did, but it didn’t. You weren’t gaining anything. You were just standing there. Your hand didn’t take part in it, so it wasn’t your satisfaction to have. You want him to die, but by your own hand. 

Arthur made it clear that you wouldn’t touch him, nor him you, but there was still another variable he didn’t consider. 

You disappeared behind the two of them, and into the cabin, but they never stopped their work of torturing the man. Earl was still screaming, and Arthur wanted to shut him up for good. He put away his knife and started beating him the only way he knew how. Mercilessly. 

John held him down, but within the blink of an eye, Earl’s survival instincts kicked in, and he scrambled beneath the men to get up, swinging a leg to trip Arthur. 

Arthur stumbled back but didn’t fall, reaching for the man who was now standing, regardless of his injuries that had already been caused. 

“You think you can run?” Arthur yelled out the question with furrowed brows, practically screaming in the face of the man. “You hurt the girl I love… there’s nowhere in this world or in hell that you could hide from me.” 

John came around to the back of Earl, holding his hands steady behind his back, even as he tried to break free from them both. 

Arthur was about to start swinging again, his emotions taking over as he thought about why he was doing this. His girl, his sweet girl. His Red. A firecracker that’s lost her spark. 

He winds up his arm, but the quick sound of gunfire and Earl Hayes head exploding into a a mass of blood and bone stops him. 

He’s shocked at first, watching the body fall limp to the ground, but when he turns and sees what he knew was waiting, he realizes that this is how it was supposed to end. 

You’re standing still, gun still raised, and looking at the dead man’s body. You lower your arm, reholstering your gun and finally releasing the breath you’d been holding.

Fourty-Seven.

It doesn’t feel like any other person you’ve shot before. The guilt you’ve always felt after a duel, your gun becoming heavier… you don’t feel it now. If anything, your gun feels lighter than ever. It weighs practically nothing as it sits on your hip. 

The pit in your stomach suddenly feels filled, the feeling that replaced it is like a relaxed muscle after being tense.

“You found it…” Arthur trails, the meaning of his words covering many bases when he speaks them.

Arthur stares at you for a moment, and so does John. They look like they’re awaiting instructions, seeing as with only one pull of the trigger, you’ve started calling the shots. 

You don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, you just shake out your shooting hand, and start back towards the horses. 

They follow you wordlessly, and watch as you pull your own knife out of the saddlebag, making a giant notch on the handle of your pistol. It spans the entire length of the handle, and crosses over every other notch you’ve ever made. Fourty-six plus one. 

When you settle the knife back into the saddle bag, you twirl your gun over your finger, getting used to the feeling of it being back in your most capable hands. Then you turn to Arthur, and he’s at a loss for what you do. 

You smile at him. Genuinely, without the forced nature of it, or the immediate retrieval of the expression upon knowing you’re wearing it. It’s your smile. The real one. 

“Thank you, Arthur,” you let out in a breath, the relief that fills the tone is unmatched. “And you, John.”

The latter nods his head, mumbling something along the lines of ‘don’t need thanks.’

Arthur doesn’t respond, too caught up in staring at you. He tosses it over in his head once before making the move to wrap you in his arms. He’s covered in blood, and now you are too, but neither of you seem to care. His arms always feel like home, and you can’t reject that feeling in a time like this. 

He is the keeper of your peace, and you realize now that you finally feel it again. Peace.

“Let’s go,” you whispered to him. The morning is still young, perhaps there’s still time to be lazy and irresponsible back at camp.

-

You finally get your period, and it’s the biggest relief you’ve ever felt.

You’re not pregnant, and the last of your worries over Earl Hayes has finally disappeared. 

Abigail is just as relieved when she finds out. She makes a comment about ‘two screaming babies in the camp’ being a disaster.

You only laugh it off, now. She doesn’t know the half of it, but you know she means well in everything she tells you. Someday you know you’ll have the option to go down that road, but it won’t be forced upon you, and it won’t be by a man who you hate and resent with all your heart. He’s dead now, and the ground has been evened out. He died quickly, which hadn’t been the plan, but it turned out to be the right course of action. Every man you’ve ever killed has been by a quick hand, the fastest there ever was. He was no different from them, you could see that, now. He was just a man, and he doesn’t have anything over you.

You begin settling into camp with more ease again, and several people take notice. Hosea even mentions that he’s glad to see you back at the campfire nights, sharing a laugh. Him knowing what happened makes him a pretty good judge of the fact that these are your first signs of normalcy since it happened. He’s happy beyond belief for you, that you’ve been able to overcome something so harsh and unforgettable. 

Arthur notices the change in you the most. He obviously pays more attention than the rest, but even if he didn’t, it’s so easily evident to anyone that cares to look at all. You’re happy again. Not quiet, not secluded, and not timid. You’re loud again, and rambunctious. Your laugh echoes off the dirt and desert trees when someone makes a bad joke. 

You’re asking to go on jobs again, and poking fun at those who tease you first. It’s like a complete reset has happened for you, and you’ve come back to being the person that you once were. 

Arthur invites you to go on a hunting trip with him, having been tasked with stocking up by Dutch. 

He knows it’ll be a half days ride to the place he wants to hunt, but he’s willing to put in the hours, and so are you. You’re not afraid to leave camp, and you’ve been damn near everywhere in the last week or so. 

He reckons that some alone time, away from the camp might be beneficial. It’ll give you a chance to talk to him openly, without having to censor any details that you would otherwise have to around the others. 

The ride is long, but your horses seem to enjoy being in a more beautiful spot than they’ve had the pleasure of residing in lately. El Paso is ugly…. But wherever you’ve found yourself is not. 

There’s a mountain in the distance, but for miles all you see is trees and sky. It’s stunning to look at, almost resembling a painting you saw once in a small hotel. 

Arthur takes to hunting almost the second you arrive to the area, jumping into his element and enjoying his time. 

You were never much a hunter. Not that you couldn’t learn how… but it didn’t really appeal to you. You’d much rather watch Arthur, his slow and calculated movements, each one drawn out with a deep breath. 

After he’d caught something, watching him take the time to skin the animal and wrap up what he needed to. His muscles contracting when he’d throw a deer over his shoulder like it weighed nothing at all. 

You watched from a small grass patch under a tree as he worked away at his recent catch, wiping the sweat off his brow. His shirt had been unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest, and you were barely keeping it together. His skin being on display was something you’d become accustomed to, and you enjoyed it whenever it happened. 

Arthur is a beautiful man. He doesn’t know it, and thinks poorly of himself, but if he could see himself through your eyes, he’d be the most prideful and boastful man that ever lived. His strong frame that could labor any task that was thrown at him, and his face that seemed to be carved out of some precious stone. When God created Arthur, he took time and care to make one of the most bewitching men on the earth. He allured you in every sense of the word.

You start to think about that attraction, and what it means to you. You’ve found him to be striking since the day you saw him. The first moment he glanced up from under his hat at you, a spell had seemingly fallen on your shoulders. Even when he teased you, you still found him irresistible. 

No one else gets to call you Red but Arthur, even to this day. You used to hate it more than anything, but hearing it from his lips is the most endearing sentiment.

You fall into another slew of thoughts, ranging from yourself, to Arthur, to your gun, and to the events and past happenings of late. You’ve been thinking on them very carefully, but for good reason. There had been a decision made by you only a day or two before, that could help attribute to your good mood within the camp. It had been in your head for the last weeks, but it had only just been solidified. You wanted to share the conclusion with the only person it concerned.

“Arthur?” You ask, sitting up from the tree root and laying on your elbows. 

“Yeah?” He throws a look over his shoulder, tentatively letting you know he was listening despite his task at hand.

“I think I’ve decided something…” you began, words coming slower because you wanted them to sound right. “Hayes is dead… and I’m not pregnant.” 

He nodded on for you to continue, setting the pelt aside and turning to face you from where he was kneeling. He assumed that this required his full attention.

“What he did to me… it didn’t ruin me, and he’s the one that paid the price…” you settled on that phrasing specifically because of some of your past conversations. You wanted him to know that you felt differently. “but he didn’t have any right to take what he did.” 

Arthur agreed, a dip of his head to go along. 

“No, he didn’t. Sent ‘im straight to hell for it…” 

“I’m not finished…” you trailed, eyebrows furrowing to contemplate the next bit. It was a hard concept to explain, especially since you were just now grasping it yourself. “what if when I killed him i got it back? Like my gun.” 

“I don’t understand,” he stood up, walking over to you. He sat down in the grass beside you, leaning on one arm as he stared at your face. Your features were deep in concentration, trying to string together your thoughts. He didn’t rush you, just let you take your time to find the words. 

You pushed yourself to a sitting position, leaning on one arm to be closer to him. 

“He never had the right to take something from me that needs to be given. I’ve decided that now that he’s dead, it didn’t count.” Your tone was firm and unwavering on the subject for the first time since it happened. You’d barely been able to speak on the matter so plainly, but now it was as easy as the breath you just took. “My virtue still belongs to me… and I’m the one that gets to choose who keeps it, not him.” 

The smile that lights up his face isn’t missed by you, even though he ducks his head in a steep nod to try and hide it. He can’t help but beam under the soft sunlight, coming down through the trees in pretty streaks. 

He can finally see it again. That gleam in your eyes that was missing from the day of the incident. He was completely filled with joy to know that after the hard road, you’d come back. You were back. Your red hot flame had been reignited, and you were finally there, completely present, and just like your old self. 

“I see,” he said plainly, trying to act like he wasn’t on the verge of being downright giddy. “I’m happy you feel that way.” 

You sit up closer, nearly right in front of him, and wrap your arms over his neck and shoulders, holding him like nothing bad had ever happened. 

“I think you might be happier about the next part,” you spoke softer, playing with the strands at the back of his neck, a bit sweaty from the work he’d accomplished.

“Yeah?” He mused, arms going around your waist and pulling your body in. His hands always felt so natural there, like the size of his hands was meant to fit just above your hips.

You nodded sweetly, putting your face right by his and whispering in his ear. There’s no one around, but even the animals can’t hear your confession.

“I want you to keep it.” 

He already knew that, and had known it for some time… but hearing it now was enough that he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Smile is too small a word, because the expression more fits the description of a wide grin. He even lets out a breathy laugh, his eyes squinting in the corners. 

“It’d be the highest honor of my life,” he lets out, hugging you into his body. You loved the feeling of it, and you’re not sure you’ll ever truly grow used to it. His broadness against you, reminding you every day just how big and strong and powerful he is, but he bends to you, covering you and protecting you from everything he can. 

He pulled you back at arm’s length for a moment, a thought coming to him that he’d long since forgotten. Now was a perfect time to bestow upon you a gift he’d been saving. 

He held a hand up in pause, maneuvering to stand back to his feet as to grab his satchel, still perched on the log by his knife.

When he comes back, you can’t tell what he’s holding, fingers tucked tightly around the item like it’s some precious thing. To him, it is, because it was meant for you.

“I’ve got something for you… been holding onto it.” He hesitated to explain the reasoning for his delay, but figured you showed him just how little it bothered you now. “I got it that day, and it never felt right to give it to you until now.”

He got close again, reaching for your hand before he held up the ring. It’s been in his possession a long time now, and every so often, he’d look at it in the hopes of this moment. He’d cleaned it up real nice, it had a shine to the silver that the shop keeper had probably never seen. The turquoise was polished up, too. 

You felt your chest tighten with a feeling of adoration. He’d gotten this for you way back then. He’s been holding onto it. You reckon it had been in his possession before any of the confessions you made were exchanged. He just loved you that much. 

“Arthur, it’s beautiful… I love it,” you said, damn near tearing up over the small piece of jewelry. You take it in your hand and slide it over the finger you think it’ll fit best, your pointer, before holding your hand out to see how it looks. 

Arthur says nothing in the moment, but he thinks he’d rather see it on a different finger, in a different context. 

You wrap him into another hug, feeling him tug you closer again with those strong, bear wrestling arms. He turns his head to kiss the side of yours, his lips staying by your ear when he speaks.

“It’s only a place holder until I find something nicer…” he trails, not even thinking about the words he just said. 

In his head he wants to ask you, but the question itself is terrifying. Maybe he can just let you guess what he wants to say by the hints he can drop you.

“A place holder for what?” You ask, leaning back to search his features. He’d sounded like there was more to say.

Suddenly his nerves get the better of him, and he decides now ain’t the time. What a chicken…

“I uh-“ he shakes his head slightly, giving the best excuse he can think of. “Well, it’s just not as nice is all…”

You furrow your brows and take another look at the ring, the way it fits you, and just how good it looks. It’s not fancy, but it’s not supposed to be. It’s supposed to be for you, and you think it matches up exactly.

“It’s perfect… I don’t need anything else.” 

You caress the side of his face to pair with your assuring words, even though he didn’t really need assuring, and just used that excuse as a cop out for what he really wanted to ask. He nods in agreement, leaning into your touch. 

“Alright…” 

Sitting here on the grass, the soft sunlight gleaming down through the trees, and the wind blowing gently, the ambience is damn near the best you’ve ever seen. You start to fall back, a grin on your face as he realizes he’s being pulled along with you. You land back on your elbows, his hand still splayed across your mid back, and the distance between you closing in. 

Arthur has gone through hell and high water for you, and served at your beck and call whenever you needed. He has killed for you, and you know if it came down to it, he’d die for you. He has shown the utmost respect, love, and loyalty to you that any man possibly could… but he’s never kissed you before. You’ve waited ages for him to just get close enough. 

You understood why he didn’t want to after the incident, though in your mind you didn’t agree… but now there were no boundaries left. He didn’t have to feel unworthy. He’d restored the light in your eyes, and the fiery spark that had gone dim. He was practically the only person worthy enough to kiss you anymore. 

Even after waiting for so long, he didn’t just dive in. He still savored every moment, each second that passed was of no inconvenience to him. He took his time, forehead pressing against yours. His other hand came up to tuck your hair behind your ear, gently tracing your jaw, before his thumb ever so slightly parted your bottom lip from the top. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, and your eyes fluttered shut, your hand traveling behind his neck again to ground yourself on his skin. 

It was so delicate, the way his lips swiftly brushed yours to test the waters. Everything in your was screaming to just kiss him already, but there was so much intimacy in this moment that you couldn’t dare skip over. 

The first time he actually slotted his lips against yours was like the softness of a lucid dream. It feels real, but there’s a cloudiness around it that makes it feel ethereal. 

You can’t even describe the sensation in your stomach when he kisses you. It’s a warm and soothing experience that creeps up into your body, onto your skin and down your spine. 

It’s over too soon, even though you’re taking sharper inhales of breath to compensate. 

His forehead rests on yours again, and you can practically feel his smile an inch from yours. 

“I think I’m a goner,” he says quietly, nuzzling your nose against his. 

“Get in line.”

-

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll @yyiikes @phantasyy @puffyhairedhipster @scorpio-echo @vargassdottir

[mayomio]

‎ “ porque te sigo queriendo? ya no puedo más ”

‎ ‎‎under the weather ;; kinich x fem!reader * social media au

synopsis she’d describe him as the most genuine soul she had ever come across in her entirety of walking earth, how she craved to be cuddled into his arms just to feel that warmth she once felt, even if it was just for a few seconds. that constant sick feeling of being without the person that completes you was like a disease to her, and she only wanted to get rid of it, but if it was only that easy. 

genre modern/college au, social media au, angst, crack-ish, fluff but not rlly like until the end or halfway, lovers to exes to lovers again, right person right time but uhmm . . .

warnings english is not my first language, I use (name) instead of y/n I just prefer it more, there will be some spanish used in the chapters (it will be translated dw), kinich is mexican!! (and implied hispanic/mexican reader but anyone is welcome to read it), writing from a beginner, heavy cursing, kys/kms used as a joke, sexual content (smut mayb..idk most likely not but just in case 😭) < by a minor btw..

status started 03.14.25

tag list currently open (click here to be added)

‎‎‎‎ ‎‎" shes under the weather, or whatever " || profiles (2)

mayo enjoyers — (name), xilonen, heizou, lumine, hu tao, kokomi

hw hq — kinich, mualani, xilonen, chasca, citlali, aether

‎ ❀ for chapters with written fic

o. prologue (❀)

i. under the weather (❀)

ii. class with the blue hair girl (❀)

iii. tus ojos (❀)

iv. cheater cheater pumpkin eater

v. estas loca??

vi. gng i’m failing this

vii. my brother’s on the wrong side

viii. parking lot date (interrupted) (❀)

ix. new number who’s this

x. la noche tan fria

TAGLIST @keiiqq, @liyahbug, @wraithisd3adinside, @anqelkoz, @inelinastyle, @liimcrencx, @jiminscarmex, @mplesyrup, @animelover100, @fandomfan-102, @yuyawanz, @hydration-is-for-weenies, @ashyiiy, @melancholiaav

[starsluver]

The Slytherin Boys fav artists

Notes: realistic but kinda delusional (not tiktok kinda delusion tho🎀) ALSO NONE OF THESE GIFS ARE MINE!!

Before we start, we all know FOR A FACT. They all listen to UK drill rap cause they're all British. Kinda Except Theo,Mattheo and Blaise AND DEFINITELY TOM. Theo's Italian and he'd probably listen to Italian hip-hop which is a thing 😭. Mattheo's LATINO which a lot of people forget, Benjamin Wadsworth is Mexican but ngl I feel like Mattheo would either be Colombian, Puerto Rican, Guatemalan or Mexican or like a mix of either two. I feel like Blaise would like 90's and early 2000's hip hop like 2pac,Eazy-E, etc. Tom wouldn't listen to music at all because he thinks it's a waste of time🎀

Mattheo Riddle

He def listens to the smiths, We know thissss. But he'd definitely listen to Arctic monkeys but he'd be the type of person that's like "well you don't like the song LIKE I LIKE THE SONG" (our sassy king) and would gatekeep every unreleased song. He'd probably also listen to Peso Pluma but either people wouldn't believe him or he wouldn't tell anyone. I already know he listens to Kali Uchis and Melanie Martinez, they're literally his celeb crushes like he'd have literally all of their merch NO MATTER THE PRICE and when someone says they like Melanie or Kali he'd be like "oh well do you have the crybaby coloring book/ red moon Venus tote bag? I didn't think so 🙄" low-key feel like he's a theater kid but wouldn't tell ANYONE (Tom would threaten to tell people tho) He'd definitely listen to Ivan Cornejo and Dannylux and Junior H (blud is MAD depressed) I also feel like he'd listen to Chicano oldies or modern Chicano oldies like parachute, la vida es fria, nobody's clown, etc. ( I NEED CHICANO!MATTHEO RIDDLE!!!) he also listens to Mon Laferte and Selena Quintanilla<3

Theodore Nott

We already know he'd listen to Deftones but he'd DEFINITELY listen to Pierce The Veil. I feel like he'd listen to Lana Del Rey because People kept telling him to, he listens to Lana with Mattheo but Theo's not like the "I need this song injected into my veins" fan. He'd listen to Cigarettes after Sex to be mysterious. HE'D LISTEN TO MANESKIN!!!! I can't even lie he'd listen to Daniel Caesar and Frank Ocean because Blaise made him (Frank PLEASEEEEEE DROP ANOTHER ALBUM) secretly listens to beach Bunny and Laufey but wouldn't tell anyone. I feel like him and Mattheo would listen to Mac Miller and/or Mac DeMarco but that's probably out of delusion

Lorenzo Berkshire

To be fr, Enzo would listen to Brent Faiyaz and the neighborhood. But out of delusion he'd listen to Laufey, Sabrina Carpenter, and Olivia Rodrigo. He'd definitely listen to the weekend, Arctic monkeys, Chase Atlantic, and Montell Fish. BUT OUT OF DELUSION AGAIN he'd listen to Ariana Grande. Honestly all the Slytherin boys would listen to Frank Ocean and the weekend.

Draco Malfoy

My fav ferret. I already know this MF listens to Chappell Roan, he won't admit it but it's not like everyone can tell (he listens to Good luck, babe! Thinking about Harry) he'd definitely listen to Chase Atlantic and the neighborhood, it's like common sense. But this MF listens to Sabrina Carpenter, Megan Thee stallion, Lady Gaga, and Ariana Grande when everyone thinks he's listening to The weekend/ Brent Faiyaz. Ngl I feel like he's team Drake and would try to convince himself that Drake won as Blaise and Mattheo play not like us for the 7th time.

Blaise Zabini

My underrated king. My man has TASTE. he listens to Bob Marley, 2pac, Eazy-E, 50 cent, Lauryn Hill, Mary J. Blidge, Destiny's Child, TLC, Megan Thee stallion, Sade, Flo Milli, Kendrick Lamar, Micheal Jackson, The Weekend, Tyler the Creator, Bruno Mars, Frank Ocean, H.E.R. and Childish Gambino. Superior music taste but HE DOES NOT PLAY ABOUT HIS MUSIC, if you change one of his favorite songs while he's listening to it. You're done, you're cooked.

Tom Riddle

Funny than you think he'd listen to music but anyways he only has Spotify to listen to true crime podcasts. He'd secretly listen to Arctic monkeys and Queen and possibly the smiths if you're really delusional. And I mean REALLY REALLY DELUSIONAL. Mattheo would tell everyone that Tom listens to Karma by JoJo siwa and no one would believe him (he actually does)

[comikbook]

realistically i know the differences between first mercy ref vs most recent are most likely just style/improvement changes but i can't help but find it cute how much confidence she seems to gain 😢😢😢. going from so sad, her expression in the first ref almost seems hopeless, all the way to having a big smile on her face and actively in action as if she's about to have to run soon.... it's such a good representation of how much growth she's had since she first started her journey 😢😢😢 mercy i love you...

i love this so much and its kinda funny bc shes doing so much worse now </3 she switches between extreme depression and mania, as of rn shes going to be in her mania part of the cycle. since killing the sheriff of agua fria and having a dream where the deacon who was arrested for it was hung for her crime she is NOT doing well. but since we’ve left the town shes distancing herself from it and her feelings, pretending it didnt happen and therefore convincing herself nothing is wrong.

mercy has pretty intense mood swings and it is inevitable she will crash soon and it will be messy, but her brain is trying its hardest to prevent that.

there are things that have gotten better with the campaign but unfortunately shes going thru it at the moment HAHA

[matrim-cauthons-hat]

To the hive of Agua Fria rode a stranger one fine day

in lieu of having the right colours to paint my guards, i decided to finally paint up M4-ARTY instead. Not a perfect recreation of the Imperium's greatest warrior, but close enough i think its close enough. would yall believe it, but this is actually the first admech ive painted, despite them being one of the first armies i started to collect. Got a Start Collecting Adeptus Mechanicus and a couple of kits of Serbrys cavalry and just... never painted the dang things, unlike me, i kno xD

[anthurak]

Theory: Penny the Great and Powerful

A while back, I did a post theorizing on how Penny could return another time, specifically due to having essentially ‘piggybacked’ her consciousness onto the Winter Maiden powers before they transferred to Winter, likely with the hope that she could be extracted from Winter at a later date.

And ever since I made that post, I’ve only become more convinced that this IS indeed where the story is going. For one, looking back at Penny’s final moments, I think it’s clear that SOMETHING is being set up for later. I mean just look at Penny’s final words to Jaune:

“Trust me.”

This wasn’t some apology, a call to action or some last goodbye. Penny had a PLAN.

Then of course there’s her final words to Winter: “I won’t be gone. I’ll be a part of you.”

Now sure, at the time we were all thinking the same thing as Winter, that this was Penny echoing Winter’s own figurative words when Fria passed the powers to her at the end of the last volume.

Buuuuttt… what if Penny was speaking LITERALLY? I mean, speaking literally while everyone else is speaking figuratively/metaphorically IS kinda Penny’s thing.

And on top of all this, Penny attaching herself to the Maiden powers frankly makes perfect sense when we consider just where the powers came from.

I think at this point it’s safe to assume that the ‘Maiden Transference’ is really just the Oz Reincarnation Cycle at work. I mean think about it; upon the death of the holder, the Maiden Powers jump to a new host that fits a certain set of criteria, just like Oz does.

When Oz split his powers among the four original Maidens, I imagine they ALSO got the reincarnation protocol. However, because the reincarnation program was made specifically for Ozma, this meant that the consciousness/memories of Maidens didn’t transfer. Instead, it’s just been the raw magic alone that’s been reincarnating into new hosts.

I imagine that this is likely due to Oz’s own lack of knowledge/understanding of both his magic and the reincarnation cycle. He may have believed that simply giving these girls the magic would allow them to start reincarnating just he like does, not knowing or understanding that additional steps needed to be taken in order to ‘key’ their own spirits to the magic in place of his own. Or perhaps Oz simply didn’t expect the reincarnation magic to transfer at all.

Incidentally, this would also explain why the Maiden transference can seem to be so random. Oz’s reincarnation protocol is keyed specifically to HIS consciousness, and thus has very specific criteria to look for when selecting a new host, a ‘like-minded soul’ as various people have put it. Whereas because the Maiden Powers aren’t transferring a consciousness/spirit, their criteria for selecting a new host is likely as basic and general as possible. Heck, the age-range criteria may have been a built-in base-criteria, given how Oz also always seems to transfer into young men/boys, meaning that literally the only new criteria for the Maiden Powers’ reincarnation protocol was ‘girl/woman’. Which in turn explains the whole ‘goes to whoever’s in the host’s final thoughts’ thing. The criteria for the next host are SO general/nebulous/vague that the previous host can actually influence/guide where the powers are going to go.

Basically, the Maiden Powers have been reincarnating into new hosts just like Oz has, just simply absent of any conscious spirit attached to them.

Until now.

THIS is the bit I’ve gotten particularly interested in just now.

What if Penny was able to figure out HOW the Maiden Transference/Reincarnation Cycle worked and in turn was able to key her own consciousness/spirit to the reincarnation program just as Oz was?

Which in turn, would effectively make Penny another Oz-spirit.

I mean, they ARE both associated with the color green…

Now I know that everyone reading this is probably immediately thinking about the unsettling implications this could have for Winter, ie; does this mean Penny’s consciousness is going to overtake and merge with Winter’s just like Oz does with his hosts?

But let’s not forget a KEY aspect of RWBY’s character dynamics is contrast. Meaning that Penny becoming another reincarnating spirit like Oz means that she would end up representing a FOIL to him. Which would mean that Penny’s situation would be decidedly DIFFERENT.

What if everyone is at first terrified that Penny and Winter are going to merge just like Oz has with all of his hosts, but after a while it becomes clear that the merging… isn’t happening.

What if Penny has wound up gaining a far greater knowledge and understanding of the reincarnation cycle/protocol, and has figured how to simply STOP the merging process from happening. Something that Oz never could do himself.

Or perhaps, something that Oz never TRIED to do himself.

I think it’s all too likely that Oz has always simply assumed that there was nothing that could be done to stop his spirit from merging with those of his hosts. After all, this reincarnation cycle was created by the God of Light, the all-powerful creator of the world. How could he, a mere mortal, possibly hope to stop, alter or even understand such a power?

While Penny is under NO such compulsion and could have spent a LOT of time poking around in the metaphysical program files of her new maiden powers to figure out how they worked. Possibly even getting some ideas of how to extract herself from Winter, with or without the Maiden Powers. She may even have some ideas of how to extract Oz himself…

And of course, this would all thematically tie in PERFECTLY with the whole ‘actually the gods aren’t so all-powerful’ revelations that Team RWBY will be bringing.

[bestworstcase]

HI HELLOE HAVE YOU SEEN THE RWBY BEYOND EPISODE???? BELIEVE ME YOU KNOW WHAT BIT IM ASKING ABOUT

I HAVE

grhrksg i’m actually not sure what bit you’re asking about because there were like three things that made me go hm. hmmmmm

sun referring to oscar as “ozpin” and being repeatedly corrected is very. hoo boy between that and the violence the curse begins to inflict on both oscar and oz once ozma starts to fight it… can you hear the cannons being loaded

very interested in raven being around, because she isn’t in the 9.11 animatic—either she arrived on the refugee ship from vale and has been working with the coalition since, or plans for her got shuffled around because of whatever had to be cut from v9. both very juicy possibilities

huge side eye at mystery girl. the obvious answer is summer maiden; raven and winter being known as maidens even to outsiders like sun says mystery girl has hitherto not been around, which might indicate that mystery girl is someone they just identified and are bringing into the circle. or it might mean she isn’t the summer maiden YET, but she’s the candidate they’ve picked out to receive the powers, which in turn would suggest the current maiden is either incapacitated a la fria or an enemy. either way the possibility that vacuo might be round three of team oz trying to anoint a maiden is very exciting. especially with raven involved!

i lied. secret fourth thing. ren and nora are excluded from this meeting—which might just mean they’re busy, we do see them involved in meetings in the 9.11 animatic, but. oscar/ozpin, theodore, qrow, two maidens plus one either maiden or maiden candidate. sun and neptune get bodily thrown out when they’re caught eavesdropping—compare “you should always get friends involved” in v2, which became team rwby’s guiding philosophy. where are ren and nora and robyn and the ace ops? the ‘inner circle’ expanded dramatically from v4 to v8; now team rwby is gone, and we’re glimpsing secretive headmasters-maidens-and-spies (oh my!) meetings again. old habits die hard?

thoughts still need a while to cook. but some delicious crumbs

[rhysdarbinizedarby]

Our Flag Means Death Season 2: Exclusive First Look

Vanity Fair joins Stede, Blackbeard, and the rest of the cast on set in New Zealand for an exclusive early look at the second season, debuting on Max in October.

BY SARAH CATHERALL (AUGUST 24, 2023)

Only the fans of Our Flag Means Death can determine whether they’ll be satisfied with the show’s second season, which debuts on Max in October. But if you ask Fernando Frias, who directed three of the season’s episodes, he sounds pretty confident: “If my life depended on saying whether it’s yes or no, I would say yes.’’

It’s December 8, 2022, and the principal actors on Our Flag Means Death as well as the 800-plus extras and crew members have three days left of their three-month shoot for season two. Things are starting to get emotional. “You’ve been the most amazing crew I’ve ever worked with,” says one actor as he wraps his final scene. Frias says it’s like leaving “a long summer camp,” adding, “it’s like a family.”

Rhys Darby as Stede Bonnet. COURTESY OF NICOLA DOVE/MAX.

The series created by David Jenkins was a surprise breakout hit when it debuted in the spring of 2022, building a fiercely devoted fan base with its silly yet emotional deadpan, and defiantly queer take on the adventures of real 18th-century pirates. Everyone involved in Our Flag Means Death is eager to preserve the surprises in store for season two, which kicks off with gentleman pirate Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby) and softhearted bad boy Blackbeard (Taika Waititi) ruefully separated after finally realizing their love for each other at the end of season one.

It’s “going to be unexpected and surprising, but also very pleasurable and satisfying for those who like the show,” promises executive producer Garrett Basch. It “doesn’t follow the expected route,” teases Con O’Neill, who plays Blackbeard’s devoted enforcer, Izzy. All that means is we’re not at liberty to share too much about what happened on set that day, which included emotional conversations, new cast members, banter with the Kiwi crew, and some seriously killer costumes.

But these exclusive new images give a hint of what is in store. There are fresh faces—Minnie Driver will guest-star as the real-life Irish pirate Anne Bonny, and Ruibo Qian joins the cast as the mysterious merchant Susan—and a lot of New Zealand actors and locations, now that the production has decamped across the Pacific.

“The viewers will see the scope of their world has expanded based on the fact we’re able to get to these amazing locations within a short travel time,” says executive producer Antoine Douaihy. “You will notice a marked difference between the two seasons in terms of the scope and the scale.’’

Minnie Driver joins the cast this season as Anne Bonny. COURTESY OF NICOLA DOVE/MAX.

There will be plenty of familiar faces too, of course. On set that day in Kumeu, New Zealand, a rural area about 20 miles outside of Auckland, are Waititi and Darby along their fellow returning cast members O’Neill, Vico Ortiz (Jim), Kristian Nairn (Wee John), Joel Fry (Frenchie), Matthew Maher (Black Pete), Leslie Jones (Spanish Jackie), Samson Kayo (Oluwande), Ewen Bremner (Nathaniel Buttons), Samba Schutte (Roach), and more. New onboard are two Kiwi actors, Madeleine Sami (most recently of the Australian mystery-comedy Deadloch), and Samoan-born Anapela Polataivao. And there’s one returning figure impossible to miss on the soundstage: The Revenge, the stately ship that Blackbeard—a.k.a. Ed—commandeered at the end of season one. In real life it was carefully transported across the Pacific Ocean from the show’s original Los Angeles soundstages.

The Revenge is vast and impressive, much larger in real life than it appears onscreen. But it’s not the only stunning scenery in store. There are around 50 sets involved in the production of season two, including the 30-acre forest behind the Kumeu Film Studio, Piha Beach, and the wild, black-sand Bethells Beach.

Waititi, who also executive produces the series, was part of the push to film season two in his native New Zealand. “Taika is an extraordinary talent and what’s really great about him with his international success is he’s remained very committed to New Zealand and very loyal to our industry,” says Annie Murray, the CEO of the New Zealand Film Commission. “The beauty of filming in New Zealand is that you can find incredible varied locations within a very short driving distance. [And] when you get to those locations you can turn your camera in any direction.’’

Rhys Darby as Stede Bonnet, filming at New Zealand’s Bethells Beach. COURTESY OF NICOLA DOVE/MAX.

The scope of the season is very evident back on set, as well. There’s a whole other pirate ship in addition to The Revenge, plus sets for a floating market, Stede’s cabin (empty when we visit), and the Republic of Pirates first glimpsed in season one. Behind the scenes it’s a maze of wardrobe, wig rooms, and dressing rooms. In another facility, props are stacked on shelves, ready to be taken away to storage as soon as filming wraps—vases, plates, antique furniture, and piles of mannequins replicating dead bodies which were used in one of the battle scenes.

Costume designer Gypsy Taylor joined the production this season and has designed hundreds of costumes, checking with everyone on set that day to make sure everything is in place before cameras roll. Taylor says each of the principals have six to eight looks in this season, and that every item—every leather belt, wig, bit of jewelry, even a mermaid tail—has been made by her 60-strong workshop. The costumes this season have a “Mad Max, ‘streets of New York’ feel,” says Taylor. “David Jenkins was keen to give the series a cool rock-and-roll vibe…so we had these rock-and-roll elements with an 18th-century twist.’’ As is evidenced in the image below, even Stede’s crew winds up with some unexpected new looks over the course of the season.

Wherever it is these Revenge crew members have found themselves, there’s something that surprised them. COURTESY OF NICOLA DOVE/MAX.

Two armies are part of the action in season two, all of them needing elaborate costumes—around 150 Chinese pirates and a fleet of 100 navy officers. Even the breeches are in studded black leather, and punkified. Says Taylor, “The theory behind their costumes is they would’ve stolen from other pirates…. Although our Wee John has started to become quite the seamstress, so he’s knitting this season.’’ True enough: Nairn is wearing what looks like a hand-knit sweater on set that day.

Wee John isn’t the only pirate getting into crafts. Nancy Hennah, who has managed the hair and makeup for both seasons, points to Blackbeard’s wig—made in London—and tattoos as Waititi works on set. With 14 tattoos on his right arm and 10 on the left, plus plenty of scars, he needs at least an hour in the makeup chair. “Taika wanted most of the tattoos to look like he’d done them himself,” Hennah says. “Like on slow days on the boat when there’s nothing much to do, they sit around and give each other tattoos.”

She gives a hint of a storm in one episode: “One of the hardest days here in makeup was when they were caught in a storm on the back of the boat. [The cast] were saturated for a whole day, which caused havoc with things like tattoos and hair, wigs and beards.’’

Taika Waititi as Blackbeard, who begins the season with a broken heart. COURTESY OF NICOLA DOVE/MAX.

By mid afternoon, Con O’Neill is taking a break in his trailer. He pulls his slim, leather trousered legs up to a corner seat. A candle blazes on the kitchen bench as the veteran actor talks about the physical endurance required during the shoot. “It’s been frantic,’’ he says. His signature gray hair barely moves, frozen by the team of hair stylists who arrived on set around sunrise. (All interviews with actors in this story took place before the SAG-AFTRA strike). 

Izzy “goes on a remarkable journey” this season, says O’Neill. “He understands what love is and whom he’s in love with.’’ On a series featuring a variety of joyful queer relationships—not just Stede and Blackbeard, but Black Pete and Lucius (Nathan Foad), Jim and Oluwande, and Spanish Jackie and her many husbands—Izzy’s unyieldingly straitlaced devotion makes him an odd man out. By the end of season one many fans speculated that Izzy was driven by something at the intersection of love and obsession. This season, according to O’Neill, Izzy gets even deeper into that dynamic. “Physically it’s been quite demanding, and also emotionally it’s been quite demanding to be playing a man enraged by unrequited love, who’s basically a hopeless romantic, and to be able to play all that and also remember that this is fundamentally a comedy.’’

Though the show is often warm and fuzzy when it comes to feelings—one of Stede’s mottos in season one is that when faced with challenges, “we talk it through as a crew”—Izzy represents the darker, more violent side of pirate life, which the show doesn’t shy away from either. “What I love about this show is it does allow itself to swing between the two,” O’Neill says. “We’re almost operatic in our darkness at times, and then we swing back to the sweetness of the simplicity of the love of our two guys. It’s been challenging just to get the tone right.”

“We’ve gone further this season than we did last season with those tones,” he continues. “So sometimes it’s quite interesting to remind yourself that you have to take your foot out of the tragedy—literally, your foot—and put it back into the comedy.”

With a season behind them to build the dynamics between the characters and the actors alike, on set there’s been “a lot more spontaneity and script revisions based on what’s happening day-to-day,” says Douaihy. “The cast are so comfortable with one another and their characters, that they move through it naturally.’’

Leslie Jones as Spanish Jackie and Taika Waititi as Ed a.k.a. Blackbeard. COURTESY OF NICOLA DOVE/MAX.

The way O’Neill puts it, they’ve also built trust with Jenkins, their showrunner, to follow some bigger swings. “I don’t think David Jenkins is ever going to follow an expected route. I’d hate to drive in a car with him.” Thinking of the fans who will greet the series when the show returns in October, O’Neill continues, “I think they’re going to appreciate what [Jenkins] wants. Season two does stick to the original premise that we created in season one, which is take it on to other levels.’’

One character leveling up in a major way this season is Jim, the quiet badass (there are knives involved) played by the nonbinary actor and activist Vico Ortiz. “Jim really evolves in season two,” they say. “They’re a bit more chatty and a bit more conversational…. Most of the first season you see Jim in disguise, hiding, but in this one you see them a bit more [thinking,] Oh, this is my chosen family, and I feel good. There’s a bit more zaniness and a bit more softness.’’

Like O’Neill and several other castmates, Oritz had attended their share of fan events by the time season two began filming, and the entire cast and crew returned to the high seas with a strong sense that their show had taken on a life of its own. “It’s so beautiful to see that people are finding community within the fan base. It’s about creating spaces where we feel safe and seen, and it’s so great to see that so many people watch the show and feel validated in their experiences, whatever that may be,” says Ortiz. “A lot of people that watch the show are like, “Yeah, I’m a guy and it’s good to see all these dudes being vulnerable.’ We can just shake up [ideas about gender].’’

Ruibo Qian joins the cast this season as Susan, a merchant with secrets of her own. COURTESY OF NICOLA DOVE/MAX.

Basch admits the fan following surprised some of the team, “but it made a lot of sense” too. After years of television shows and movies that built up the potential of queer romance only to stop short, Basch thinks the fervor for Our Flag Means Death “says that shows in the mainstream aren’t delivering that promise or that setup, and we have. That’s really why the fans have gone wild for it.”

That promise, it’s safe to say, is kept in season two, and then some. On set that day in December, for example, there was a major romantic moment between two key characters. But we’d risk Ed Teach’s wrath if we told you any more.

Source: Vanity Fair

[mur-art]

Mur's WTTT Art Master Post (Part 1)

A compilation of all my Welcome to the Table/Ben Brainard-verse art (so far), sorted by topic and character. I think I covered everything! I tried to organize them the best I could but some categories were hard to define. If I missed anything, plese lmk! WARNING: LONG POST AHEAD!

(GEN) COMICS/MULTI-CHARACTER SCENES:

---> Weekend at Congress (Florida, Loui, Gov)

---> Baby's First Hurricane! (Florida, California, Mother Nature)

---> Pile O' Corners (Four Corners)

---> The Gambler, The Family Man, and The Stoner (Nevada, Utah, Colorado)

---> A Family Affair (IDC, Penn, Gov)

---> Gator Onesie (Florida, Gov)

—> Surfin’ USA (California, Hawai’i, Alaska)

—-> To the Town of Agua Fria Rode a Stranger One Fine Day (Texas, Arizona)

FLORIDA AND CALIFORNIA ANTICS:

Continued under the cut...

---> Karaoke Night at the Statehouse

---> Halloween Horror Night

---> What is This "Moun-tan" You Speak of?

---> "Whatcha readin', Safe Space?"

—> Cali’s Gonna Yeet Him off a cliff

—> The One Where They Work at In-N-Out

INDIVIDUAL WTTT CHARACTERS:

Alaska

---> Good View From Up Here (Alaska + Hawai'i)

---> I Was Born Under a Wan'drin Star... (tw: blood)

Arkansas

---> Pirate Kansas!

California

(This diva has his own category; see below)

Colorado

---> Snowy Selfie

Florida

—> Florida!!! (Mur’s Version) (TW: Blood)

—> Emotional Support Alligator

---> Astrophysics for People in a Hurry

---> The Price of Freedom

---> Gator Onesie

Gov

---> You Should See The Other Guy (tw: blood)

---> "I Was So Worried" (Gov + IDC)

---> Gator Onesie

Hawai'i

---> Good View From Up Here (Alaska + Hawai'i)

---> Gossip Girls (California + Hawai'i)

IDC

---> "I Was So Worried" (Gov + IDC)

Louisiana

---> <3 Heart Eyes <3

Massachusetts

---> Spiked Dunks!

---> I Started a War!

---> Dunks Onesie! (feat. New York)

Michigan

---> "I Brought Salad!"

Montana

---> Treasure State // Big Sky Country

National Guard

---> POV You're Late to Your Date w/Natty Guard

Nevada

—> Playing With Fire (Nevada and Utah)

—> Vegas Vic (collab with @freshwolfhell)

—> Circus, Circus (collab with @freshwolfhell)

—> “Wait, YOU don’t have a lottery?” (Utah and Nevada)

---> Neon Showgirl

---> Caution, Do Not Dig (semi-nsfw)

---> Oh, You're Actin' So Holy (Utah and Nevada)

---> MOBvada

---> Being an Absolute Mood

New Jersey

---> Stick 'Em Up! (tw: blood)

---> Bad Boy (tw: smoking)

New York

—-> Emotional Support Pigeons

Oregon

---> Get In Loser, We're Dying of Dysentery

Utah

—> “Wait, YOU don’t have a lottery?” (Utah and Nevada)

---> "I'm Not Like Other States, I'm a COOL State!"

---> Oh, You're Actin' So Holy (Utah and Nevada)

Washington

---> Get In Loser, We're Dying of Dysentery

---> Judgy Washing Machine

Wisconsin

—> Go Pack Go!

SHIPS/DUOS:

Texas/California

---> Dios Mio, Erán Vaqueros!!

—> “Stay Still, Idiot!” (Hurt/“Comfort”)

—> OMG They Were Cowboys!

---> "Let Him Kiss Me..." (nsfw)

---> I Hate Everything About You

---> Not-So-Lone Star (semi-nsfw)

---> Wildflowers

---> Saw Your Face in a Dusty Daguerrotype

---> "It Suits You, You Know" (Cali/Austin)

Florida/Louisiana

---> Summer Afternoon Flirting

—> Karaoke Night at the Statehouse

---> "Mornin', Sunshine" (semi-nsfw)

---> OMG They Were Pirates!

---> Bisou Ur Face

---> Those eyes, damn those eyes

---> "Hey Loui-- <3"

Utah/Nevada

—-> Playing the slots (slot canyons)

Florida/Gov

—> Send Me a Selfie

California/Nevada

—> “Fighting” Over the Remote

---> California is a Big Spoon (nsfw)

---> 99 Problems

California/New York

---> First Meeting (“I’m Not Here For Your Silly Rocks”)

—-> Working Late

---> Straight Gay Espresso Morning

---> "Get Loved, Idiot"

---> Can't Handle the Cold

New York/New Jersey

---> "What the [bleep] are you lookin' at?"

Massachusetts/Virginia

—> The Gentleman and the Sailor

---> Kingdom of Days

Oregon/Washington

---> Get In Loser, We're Dying of Dysentery

---> May 18, 1980 (tw: blood)

Alaska/Hawai'i

---> Good View From Up Here

Massachusetts/New York:

—> I am NOT Wearing That!! (The Dunks Onesie Saga continues!)

A SECTION just for CALIFORNIA since I draw him so much (whoops):

---> Money, Power, Glory (CA Statehood Day Art 2023)

---> Fem!Cali

---> Looking for the Golden Light

---> Two Sides of the Same Coin/King of Diamonds (NorCal + SoCal)

---> Twelve Atmospheric Rivers Later...

---> "I am California, Can't You See?" (CA Statehood Day Art 2022)

---> Gossip Girls (California + Hawai'i)

---> Firebender Cali

NON-CANON CHARACTERS/OCS:

Jefferson

---> Abolish the Police...Birds? (feat. Austin)

San Diego and San Francisco

---> CA's Favorite/s?

[onceuponalegendbg-rwby]

With how perceptive Elijah is about RWBY, you think she won’t be surprised by Ironwood’s descent to villainy because of all of the shady stuff he does throughout the show?

Bringing his entire military across the world to what is supposed to be a peace tournament

Showing off his totally cool military mechs to Vale

Sending soldiers from the kingdom most well known for its racism towards Faunus after White Fang goons causing trouble

Getting Ozpin kicked off the Vale Council for disagreeing with him

Making Vytal Festival security a team of easily hackable robots

Abusing his power towards Jacques (easy to miss, because, you know, it’s Jacques)

Closing the Atlas border and recalling all of his soldiers due to not trusting Leo

Imposing a law that unlicensed people can’t use weapons in a world where flesh-eating monsters lurk around every corner, which wouldn’t be as big of an issue if he weren’t neglecting to fix Mantle’s security system while regularly updating Atlas’ security (Thus giving the parents crushing on Jaune every reason to fret about their kids, Marrow)

Committing embezzlement by redirecting the materials meant to fix Mantle’s outer wall to his Amity project

Illegally detaining Fria, not because an elderly woman is easy to attack and murder and thus wants her to choose who her powers go to, but to groom Winter into becoming the next Winter Maiden by making Winter the only person Fria is allowed to see

Ordering an unwarranted black-bag arrest on Robyn after the rally massacre

Reminding the Atlas Council that Penny is “under his control”

Refusing to send Atlas airships to help in Mantle because “Atlas will be vulnerable”, when Mantle is vulnerable now and needs the help now

Honestly it wouldn’t surprise me if she does pick up on at least some of these. While she does tend to get very excited and (in the moment of her reaction) miss a thing here or there, as you said she is a very perceptive individual that loves to speculate and theorize.

Of course we obviously won’t know until we get there, because while Ironwood was definitely overstepping from the very start, I didn’t even really clock him as a possible threat until the end of V2 when he snatched control of the Vytal Festival from Oz. Then I was like “oh… you might actually be a problem later.”

And then there’s his minute role in V4/5 that almost paints him in a better light… if it weren’t for the little nuggets dropped that he has two seats on the council and that he was ordering an embargo. The only reason people stayed on Ironwood’s side then was because he was being directly contrasted with Jacques who is an undoubtedly awful human and it’s not hard to look better than him by comparison.

Regardless I’m looking forward to Elijah getting to meet our resident tin man and her thoughts on some of his actions. I have no doubt it’ll be a fun ride regardless.

[howlett-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

6. Down The Road

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: i just was scrolling through tumblr and saw a post that a girl on twitter made and it was talking about a hot dad and I was like 'that's so me' and then at the end of the post it talked about how he called her miss aven and I threw my phone across the room because my name is also aven and i guess I am not the only one but anyways yeah all aven's are hot if ur name is aven ur hot.

Summary: The men of camp have begun to act strange, and Arthur seems to be the only one standing out... until a particular train job goes terribly wrong, then all bets are off.

Warnings: Not many, just some angst, canon typical violence, misogyny, and arguing... oh and some blood :)

WC: 12.5k (I went very insane last week)

He sensed your awkward reaches, even if he didn’t see them. He adjusted himself on the saddle before meeting your hands behind his back and pulling them around his sides to hold on. Your breath caught in your throat from how casually he’d done it, and how softly he touched you.  “That’s a nice flower in your hair, by the way,” he muttered, not even looking back before grabbing the reins and leading the horse out of camp. 

It was nearing fall again, and a year since you first arrived at camp, but things were beginning to get hectic. Not just with the attitudes of people in camp, but with the local law of Agua Fria getting more involved in the jobs the gang was pulling. You weren’t quite sure if you should be thankful for the distraction, or worried that it could make things worse for you. As far as you know, there’s not been bad feelings towards you, but there certainly weren’t friendly ones, either. It’s strange, since right after everyone found out your secret, they almost revered you in a way they hadn’t before. You supposed the walking on eggshells had to cease eventually.

The only people brave enough to talk to you now are Arthur and Hosea… you can’t say you don’t understand why. The lies finally caught up with most people, and it seemed to only get worse as time went on.

The men weren’t the only ones shunning you, either. The women, minus Tilly, were very straight and to the point if they had to speak with you, and if they didn’t, they just avoided you at any cost. 

It was beginning to feel more lonesome, almost like before you joined up with the Van Der Linde’s. 

The moment that all of it came to a head was around the campfire one night. You hadn’t spoken a word in fear of being over-talked or interrupted. You wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of cutting you off. 

Bill was the first to become irrationally drunk. Sean and Mac were next. You could swear Javier was drunk, too, but with every drink he took, his guitar rhythm never stuttered. Arthur was teetering on the edge of drunkenness, but the man was a unit, and it took a lot of alcohol to turn his mind. 

You felt relaxed enough to hit the bottle that Sean had set down, but then all eyes were on you. 

You forgot. The women don’t drink unless there’s a special occasion, though you aren’t quite sure why. You set the bottle down and let your eyes stay on the ground when you do until the conversation starts back up again. 

Arthur doesn’t really participate, he stays out of most of it, as do you. If you’re being honest, you don’t know why you sit at the fire with them anymore, because they don’t seem to give a shit if you do, and don’t seem to revere you like when they hadn’t been exposed to your secret. 

When the drunken chatter of the Agua Fria women comes up, you’re glad you took enough of a swig to boost your confidence. 

“I think they’re fine and what not,” Bill stumbles over his wording, barely making any sense. “Them girls in Charleston Town were better…”

“Better at what exactly?” You chimed in, finally taking part in the conversation.

“Screwin’, mostly… other things too I guess,” he coughed a little after speaking, taking yet another drink out of his mug. 

“Why’s it matter?” Sean started in, and though you understood he was a good kid and just mildly outspoken, you hated how these little talks seemed to only have started now that they knew about you. Almost like they’re pushing it in your face.

“Maybe because it don’t sit right with me, comparin’ girls like that,” you shook your head. It’s like talking to a sack of bricks, and it won’t change anything, but you try anyway. It angers you, how they used to talk about interesting things around the campfire. Sure, sex came up from time to time, but it was never just about their views of women and the only things they’re good for.

“You don’t needa worry, we ain’t comparin’ you,” Bill laughed, and even got the Calendar boys snickering under their breath. They should be keeping their mouths shut, since they were out of camp when everyone found out about you in the first place. They didn’t even realize it when they came back. 

“That’s because you’ve never had me,” you argued, and you could feel Arthur tense up beside you, almost like he was bracing himself for what he knew was coming. 

“I could if I wanted to.” The pure audacity, and all because of some drunken words. Bill was never your favorite amongst camp goers, but he’d grown on you when he got to know you as Charlie… Now it seems he hates your guts and will do anything to antagonize you. “I bet you’re nice n’ easy, huh darlin’?”

“You’re the last person in camp I’d let have me, jackass.”

Some colorful words for a pretty girl like you. At least Bill thought so. 

“You say that now… but I bet it didn’t take too much convincing to get you to spread 'em’ for Arthur,” he motioned to the gruff and stone-faced man beside you. 

“Knock it off, Bill,” Arthur chimed in, knowing that if he didn’t, the man would push you to your limits and then maybe you’d shoot him. Knowing that you didn’t miss your shots was a good reason to step in, even if he knew you could hold your own. 

“You can tell me, ol buddy,” Bill kept on, leaning forward. “Was it smooth as silk, or drier than the texas desert?” 

Everyone else in the circle was pretty damn quiet by this time, just watching as Bill repeatedly made a bigger fool of himself. They had participated, but only to a certain degree… but this felt too messy, and they didn’t wanna chance stepping in it. Especially where Arthur was concerned.

“I said knock it off,” Arthur was more stern, but felt the need to defend your honor further, and clear your name. “She ain’t done nothing with no one in this camp, ya hear me?” 

Bill let out a low and long whistle, looking back to you and seeing that your face was flushed. You were thankful for Arthur sticking up for you, but with the look on Bill’s face, it may have been just a touch too far. 

“Alright, Arthur… I believe ya,” he chuckled, eyes narrowing in while everyone still watched on. “You know, seein’ things clearly makes me think you’re the opposite of what I said.”

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brow in concern. You should have never asked. 

“Boys,” he laughed out, nudging Mac to his left and slapping his knee in gleeful manner. “I’d say we’ve got ourselves a virgin.”

Your eyes widened, and immediately you were panicking. You’d never felt unsafe in the camp until right now, with the gaze of half the men in camp beginning to take you in as if it were for the first time. The way you reacted, they knew it to be true, and you weren’t sure what you could even say or do to hide it at this point. 

“You ain’t got any idea what you’re talkin’ about, Williamson,” you tried to defend, and Arthur jumped on the bandwagon. 

“That’s enough,” he grumbled, standing to his feet, offering you a hand to yours. “You’re all too damn drunk to even be livin’ right now.”

He issued a few less kind words that ushered them off to bed, and they dispersed from the circle, most of them to their sleeping arrangements. 

Arthur went with you to your tent, and at first you weren’t sure why he stayed so close. When you went inside and he tried to close the flaps you stopped him. 

“I can close up, I’m not quite tired yet…”

He gave you a respectful nod, but still held the flaps in his hand. “I just think that maybe you should close ‘em. I’ll stay outside here for a while just to make sure nothin’ happens,” he explained, but now you were fearful. 

“What would happen?” You ask with the same amount of fear creeping into your voice. 

“Nothin’, I won’t let it,” he assured you, but even though he brought some ease to your mind, he didn’t answer your question. 

“Arthur, what would happen to me?” 

“I don’t know… I don’t think they’re stupid enough to try anything, but…” he trailed, his voice leading off into a soft spoken tone.

“But?” 

“Bill is very drunk right now, and he’s had some problems in the past,” he didn’t want you to think Bill was some sort of evil man, but if only for right now, he wanted you to be cautious of him. “Just want you safe, is all.”

You looked at him for a moment before concocting an idea. Probably a bad one, but that remains to be seen. 

“Would you come sit with me a while?” 

He looked back outside the tent, where across the camp, a few of the men still lingered, watching from a distance. Looking back to you, he couldn’t say no. It’s been part of his new curse, unwilling to see you upset or in need of anything at all. He doesn’t even know why, but his brain won’t let him function like he used to. 

“I s’pose, but it’ll fuel their rumors that we…” he let his words fall off, but you knew what he was getting at. 

“That’s the point,” you told him, a nervous smile on your face. “If you don’t mind the rumors, that is.”

“M’not understandin’,” he shook his head. Wasn’t that the whole reason he had to interject in the first place? To clear your name of any intimate relations with him that had been suspected?

“Even if it’s just lyin, maybe they’ll leave me alone,” you explained. The thought of people thinking you were impure was a strange one, but you’re sure it beats the feeling of being hunted like prey. 

“Alright,” he nodded, looking at you with a decent smile. “Yeah, it’s alright with me, Red.”

You smiled in relief, suddenly all too focused on how he was looking at you. His hat was tipped slightly, so the brim framed his eyes in the moonlight from outside. You closed the flaps and sat back down with him, trying to think of something to say. 

“How long do you think we oughta stay in here for?” 

He shrugged, leaning back against the furthermost tent pole. “For them to actually believe it? I’d say a few hours…”

“Oh, really?” you teased, crossing your arms and giving him a cynical look. 

He smirked, nodding his head around some. “I’m only kiddin’... mostly. But you can kick me out whenever it suits you.”

“So long as you’re willin’ to help me, stay as long as you want.”

He smiled again, genuinely, and though he could barely see your face in the dim light of the closed tent, the small hole in the fabric ceiling made for the prettiest glow in your hair. He got to thinking, and of course that’s a dangerous thing, but he had to ask. 

“If you don’t mind sayin’ so… why haven’t you uh-?” His gesture towards the campfire outside, still going but soon to be snuffed out by the desert winds. 

“Honestly?” you searched the files of your mind for something that didn’t sound too privileged. You knew you had it good growing up, and no one here could compare, but you still had issues that eventually changed your entire life. “My mother taught me to save myself for my husband.”

“Oh,” he furrowed his brow. Your wild and careless nature didn’t match what you were saying. “I didn’t take you for someone who would.”

“I’m not… but, I’ve been Charlie Brooks ever since I ran away, and no one ever knew me otherwise until you.” 

He seemed surprised, but it did make sense when he pieced it all together. You’d gotten so good at playing the role of a young man, that countless people believed it. So much so, that you’d never been able to take a lover, though multiple women tried.

“And what about now? You ever thought of it?” He asked gently, his questions, though a bit intrusive, didn’t feel hard to answer. You knew he was curious, and after what just took place, you felt you owed him at least a few things to be resolved. 

“I have, a few times,” you admitted, your voice becoming softer when you realized what you were about to share. It didn’t really matter, though, you trusted him more than anyone else in this world as it were, and knew he wouldn’t mock you. He acts all tough, but he’s a soft and gentle creature deep down. “I think I’m still gonna wait until I can give it to someone I love.”

He dipped his head. He definitely understood, and only wished he’d been wise enough to do the same. There was a time in his life before where he wishes he’d waited for a certain girl… but that was ages ago, and he knows his count is higher than it should be. 

“Do you think you’re close to findin’ that someone?” his voice was just above a whisper, now, and he knows that the question he’s asked is risky. He doesn’t know if he wants to know the answer, but without thinking, you give it to him. 

“Real close,” you told him, looking down at your hands when his dim-lit stare became too much.

“Yeah?” he smiled, genuinely and with a hope he hadn’t felt in a while. 

You nodded to him, tilting your head as you took him in. Not tonight… you’re not ready, and you know you won’t be for a while. It’s just then, however, that you’ve decided it will be him. You nearly decided that on the day you first arrived at camp. That day when he teased you and you swore on your life that you didn’t like him all that much… but then the very next day he went and surprised you. His kindness and gentleness will never be forgotten. 

“Thank you for doing this, Arthur. I know I’m probably dooming you to a whole list’a questions tomorrow, but I’m grateful.”

“You don’t needa thank me,” he shook his head, being his generous and benevolent self. “I’ll always help you, whatever ya need.”

You stayed silent for a moment until he chuckled under his breath. “What?”

“Oh nothin, just thinkin’ of the look on Bill’s face tomorrow.”

You gave it a single thought and it made you laugh, too. It would probably be a terribly inappropriate slew of nasty questions after a round of congratulations, but he would deal with it, not you. 

You crawled over next to him, sitting on the ground by his side, and leaning your head on his shoulder. He didn’t mind, nor did he say anything. He just picked up your hand that was laying strewn on your lap, and threaded your fingers together. It was a silent action, but both of you understood immediately what it meant. We’re gonna be something, just give it time.

You sighed in contentment and turned your head to look at him. His profile stared on into the edge of the tent wall, until he could feel your eyes on him. He looked back down at you, but didn’t make a move. That’s not what tonight was about, and there would be plenty of time for all of that soon, he was sure of it. He squeezed your hand and turned back to face the tent wall, dipping his hat a little. Maybe he’d fall asleep here, and it would be the perfect crime scene for everyone to experience the next morning. You’d no doubt let him slumber here throughout the night, but you’d likely drag him into the bed, knowing how sore his back got every now and then. 

You wanted to make sure he was comfortable, you wanted to take care of him. You knew by now all of his little quirks and strange necessities, and were willing to bend over backwards to make sure he got them. You were willing to do anything it took to make sure he smiled at you like he’d just done seconds ago, to keep that look on his face whenever your eyes met, even in a crowded room. 

You’d lasso the moon for him if he asked, and pull it down so he could know its beauty from a closer perspective. You’d come to the conclusion that no matter which way you framed it, you were in love with Arthur Morgan. Had been for some time, but denial was a strong presence within you, and you were stubborn as hell when it came to admission.

You both eventually fell asleep like that, leaning against each other on the ground, and no effort of getting into the bed came about.

-

Bill’s face was indeed priceless, but you think you got more of a laugh from Sean. You didn’t even need to see his face, you heard his hollering from across the camp. You’d been cleaning rifles when the other redhead’s bellowing voice made you giggle. You’re sure that Arthur was annoyed as hell, but you’ll thank him for putting up with everything later. 

The strangeness of the men lingered only a bit longer, but when a few days passed, and Arthur started acting more protective out of nature towards anything that was said about you, they backed off. In their minds, you were Arthur’s girl… Off limits to everyone else.

There were of course more than just the men who had heard about your ‘all nighter’ with Arthur.

The women, albeit a bit nosy, were actually quite fun to gossip with. It seemed like faking the loss of your innocence with Arthur did wonders for the whole camp and their acts of shunning you. Did it bother you? Only slightly… it would have been worse if you’d actually gone through with it and appeased the camp

“Is he a good kisser? He did kiss you, right?” and “Did it hurt? I bet it hurt, he’s a big man…” were your favorite contenders for questions asked. You did as you needed to, alluding to the facts without actually saying anything of substance. To be very clear, nothing happened in the tent that night, or in the morning before he left. You had no actual idea if anything you were hinting at was true, but that was the fun of it. 

“You measured your cycle, didn’t you? You don’t wanna end up like me,” Abigail chimed in, Jack thrashing around on her hip while he cried. He was a sweet baby, but sometimes he was just a mess to deal with, and being in a camp full of outlaws didn’t help anything. 

“Yeah, I did…”

“Did he uh… prepare you first?” Karen chimed in with her own curiosities, and a small giggle followed. They knew that Arthur was the best of the men, and he was good to women… but none of them had gotten up close and personal proof of that fact. 

“Yes?” You answered with a bout of confusion… preparation? Your mother never mentioned nothing about damn preparation.

“Lucky girl,” she sighed out, her eyes rolling dramatically. “You really are, I hope you know. Arthur’s the best of the men.”

“Oh I know, trust me,” you snickered at just how lucky you were. These girls were drooling over the details you gave them. All were false, but you knew he’d own up to every single one of them, because he was just that good and kind to you. He was like a loyal dog, Dutch said, and he was right. You were more than lucky to have his care and protection, and it started to feel intimate in a way that sex never could. 

There was a word for that, you think… devotion. 

“So, are you Arthur’s girl, now?” 

That one caught you off guard, because even with a fake answer, you weren’t quite sure what to say. 

“I don’t… I don’t know,” you answered truthfully for the first time that morning, and it was almost refreshing to speak something that wasn’t just a blatant lie. 

“It was just a one off, then?” Abigail furrowed her brows. Since she’d rejected Arthur’s offer, she’d been starting to feel some regret. He was indeed the best of the men, and she’d turned him away in favor of a man who left her. How silly that was… but she knows it’s too late, now.

“I hope not,” you said nervously, again with truth.

“You’re fond of him, we can all tell…” 

You looked at them with surprise and a bit of alarm. “Since when?”

Karen leaned in on her elbows with a small giggle at your reaction. She quieted herself as to not draw more attention to this side of camp, in fears Miss Grimshaw would come force them all to start back on the chores. 

“It’s funny, when we found out you weren’t a boy, everything kinda made sense,” she chuckled. 

Abigail kept nodding along, her smile broadening. “You used to follow him around like a puppy, we all thought it was because you looked up to him, wanted to be like him.”

“Even I could tell, and I’d been pretty blinded by my own fondness of you,” Tilly joked, nudging you in the arm as you’d come to the realization that even under the guise of Texas Red, you had absolutely no subtlety. 

“Was it that obvious?” you asked in annoyance with yourself. You dipped your head into your hands when they all nodded in the affirmative. 

The girls were about to start round two of questions when Dutch and Hosea came out of the center tent, Dutch commanding the attention of all the members in the camp. 

“Everyone, listen up!” His large and brutal steps seemed angry, and you waited patiently to find out why. “We’re moving camp!”

Everyone was immediately caught up in the new announcement, conquests of nights past becoming completely forgotten. Questions of ‘Why?’ and ‘What happened?’ were uttered, as this seemed very sudden. The cash flow from Agua Fria was rather booming, and it didn’t seem like there needed to be a move. 

“I’ve just gotten word from Davey that the Pinkertons know we’re here. They’re looking for the camp as we speak, so we’ve got to go.”

His intense speech was followed by everyone leaving where they were, running around and trying to get things packed into the wagons, tents included. 

You were new to the ‘being on the run’ part of outlaw life, as even before when you were just a gunslinger, the law never chased you. You’d earned a reputation for killin’ folk, but the law deemed you harmless when they found out that you only shot those who wanted to shoot you first. You’d not ever committed a real crime among the citizens, and even paid your way for everything. It was only after becoming a Van Der Linde that you figured you were about to be in trouble. 

You had your entire living situation torn down and packed up within the hour, tying it all together and slinging it in the back of Arthur’s wagon. You came around the corner and saw that he was still packing up. Being here longer meant he had quite a few more belongings to take care of. 

“Need some help?” You smiled at him, ready to lend a hand. 

“You done already?” He responded to your question with one of his own, pleasant surprise in his expression. 

“Not much to pack away,” you reasoned, no longer waiting for him to answer you as you started dismantling his cot and rolling up the canvas around the iron bar pieces. 

You were happy to help him get done faster, you’re sure with his strength and size he’d be needed elsewhere soon. You did have a few questions for him, though. 

“I don’t think I ever asked… When did you all get here?”

“Not long before you did, I reckon. We used to be able to stay years in the same spot, the law would never catch us…” he shook his head, tossing some picture frames he had into a sack. “Times are changin’ for folk like us.”

“You were here before me?” You asked in confusion. Obviously they were at the camp before you… but you’d been in Agua Fria for over a year yourself. 

“Yeah, and we’d all heard the stories about Texas Red before we even met ya,” he chuckled, his speed increasing the more he saw other members of camp rushing with panic to get moving before sundown. “The day Dutch brought you back, I almost thought he was kiddin'.”

“Glad to know I made a good impression,” you teased, a laugh being huffed out with slight annoyance while you heaved his clothing chest up and into the wagon. Probably a heavier item you should have left for him, but then that wouldn’t be helping. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He assisted you in shoving the chest further in the wagon, since you struggled just slightly, and didn’t want to bend over in your skirt. “I just had it in my head that you’d be all big n’ scary.”

“You mean more like you?” you taunted, giving him a smirk to show you didn’t actually think he was big and scary. 

“I guess so,” he shook his head, throwing his sack of belongings in with the other junk. “But then I first saw you, talkin’ with Tilly and Abigail… you looked all scrawny and what not. I thought, this can’t be the kid I’ve been hearin’ about.”

“And what do you think of me now?” You asked honestly, stopping the haste of the afternoon for only a moment to share a gaze with someone special to you. He stopped too, a side smile pulling at his lips when he answered. 

“I think you’re much scarier, now…” he trailed, reaching his hand to touch your hair where it had grown just below your ears. 

“You think I’m scary?” You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, his eyes meeting yours. 

“Terrifyin’...”

He started to get closer, and in the setting light of the day, you almost thought he might close the small gap, but then-

“Arthur!” Pearson’s shrill voice rang out loudly, and you flinched away from the moment, coming back to reality. “I need you over here!”

“Just give me a damn second!” He shouted back, but by the time he’d turned his attention to you again, you’d jumped away from him from the startle, and the moment was cut short. “I better get over there…”

“I’ll finish up for you,” you waved him off, moving to the barrel with his shaving kit. It was one of the last things that needed packing. 

“I’ll owe ya,” he nodded, tipping his hat forward before having to run off. 

He wouldn’t owe you a damn thing. 

-

The gang traveled north and west for several days, until coming to a clearing in a nice little town called El Paso. What could be so great about this town? Well, for starters, the law was mighty thin in this region, and there were roads nearby that had rich folk traveling as well. Dutch said it was like an outlaw’s paradise… 

He’d also mentioned there was a railway station in the next town over, something to look into. 

Arthur had done so right away, leaving the newly set up camp for a few days to scope out the area and put on a good cover. He was always the best man for the job, so you couldn’t complain about him being away, but there was of course a downside. Neither you nor Arthur pulled a stunt in the new camp like you had at the old one, and with him being gone, it gave the men a bit of leeway to behave as they did before. 

It wasn’t as sexual as it had been, but their bad attitudes towards you, and now that you’re seeing it, the other women as well, was atrocious. You’d been so blind to it all when you didn’t have to deal with it first hand, but now that you did, it was constant. 

Bill was the worst, as you knew him to be. He often didn’t even wait for Miss Grimshaw to collect the laundry anymore, just throwing dirty shirts and trousers in your direction and telling you he needed it cleaned the next day. 

“Not my job, not my problem,” you threw the articles of clothing at him every time, and every time he’d just scoff and go to the next woman, who would do as she was told because, even though you’d lucked out in skill, the others still had to earn their keep somehow. 

Lucking out in skill didn’t even seem to be helping you recently. Every job you suggested you could help with, Dutch turned you down. It had even caused a fight with Hosea, who wanted you to go in his place. 

Hosea had kept his distance with you when your secret was first revealed. Not to be cruel or unfair, but because you’d been embarrassed about the whole thing, and he could sense you didn’t want to open up to anyone right away. 

He did, however, become far more acquainted with you on the journey to El Paso. 

“I think you’re a mighty brave person, you know,” he’d struck up the conversation. 

“Me? Brave? I just shoot folk,” you shook your head, watching the horses in front of you both as they towed the wagon you sat on. “Ain’t nothin’ brave about that.”

“Not for shootin’ folk… I think you’re brave for bein’ on your own as long as you were. Especially a young woman.”

“Well, I appreciate you sayin’ so… but nobody knew I was a young woman, it sort of helped.”

He’d nodded sweetly, giving you a smile and a pat on the shoulder. The gentle and comforting talks between you became common from then on. 

Arthur had come back to the camp one morning, when everyone had woken, bringing a few different things. His first stop was Dutch, obviously, giving the intel over so a plan could be formed. The next job was going to be important. If it went down well, then this little town could be a great place to settle for the months to come, but if not, it would allow you all to know just how involved the law in this town actually was. You’d heard it wasn’t much. 

When Arthur came out of Dutch’s tent, he made a beeline to you… or more specifically, your tent. He actually didn’t even see you sitting across from your living quarters when he approached it, but you watched him with great curiosity on what he was doing. He’d been distant since leaving Agua Fria and arriving here, and you wondered if he was trying to rectify that. 

He left your tent just as quick as he went in, and met your eyes with a small nod and a soft smile. He’d been caught. He just went on his way after that, and didn’t even bother to greet you properly. 

You furrowed your brows, dropping the rifle you were cleaning before going inside your tent. He obviously didn’t take anything, you knew that. You didn’t keep anything of value except for your pistol, thirty-two notches now carved into the stock, but you always kept it on you...

When you looked at your cot, you found only one thing out of place. A pretty orange flower laying against your rolled up woolen blanket. Its bottom petal was slightly bent, and you wondered if he had kept it in his satchel on the ride back to camp. 

It was very sweet of him to think of you, and bring it back. You don’t think you’ve ever told him how much you like the color orange, but you reckon he just brought back the flower without even thinking about the color. 

You wanted to go and thank him, to talk with him for the first time in several days. You missed him whenever he was gone… you always hoped he missed you, too. He probably missed everyone, but he brought you an orange flower.

He was somehow already on the other side of camp, hassling Pearson about something nonsensical you’re sure, getting the man riled up over probably nothing. Pearson was a decent guy, but he was a little obnoxious, so teasing him was something you could definitely condone. You thought about just marching up and breaking up the scene, but then thought it might be better to instead make a lesser deal of it, just like he did. 

The men left the flower with no words to be said, so you’d thank him for it the same way… unless of course he broke the silence first. 

You tucked the flower behind your ear, letting the orange color sit nicely against the similar shade of your hair. You ran over to Arthur’s shaving barrel, close to the edge of your living area, and checked how it looked before walking nonchalantly towards Pearson’s kitchen. 

They were still grobbling over nothing, but when you came to the table, leaning forwards on it they both stopped. 

“What can I do ya for, miss?” Pearson asked, having become a much kinder, albeit a little bit more sarcastic person to you since your secret came out. 

“Just wondering what’s for dinner tonight…”

“How about that, Arthur, she wants to know what’s for dinner,” the man laughed, hands on his hips when he looked back to the younger counterpart. 

“I’m goin, I’m goin,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, clearly knowing he was the one responsible for hunting today. He’d just gotten back, but of course they made him do damn near everything. “You wanna come with me, Red?” 

“Me? Huntin’? I’ve never been, I’d probably scare ‘em off…” you resisted slightly, but knew that if he asked you a second time there would be no hesitation. 

“I’ll teach ya,” he offered, nodding his head towards the horses. “Not like they’d get far with your shootin’, anyway.”

You followed him immediately, picking up your skirt and rushing up behind him. Hunting with Arthur seemed like a mighty good idea at first, until you realized Dutch would probably be upset with you for not finishing the rifles… Tossing it over in your head for only a moment more, you neglected the prospect of the rifles. 

You could tell that Dutch was slowly trying to keep you out of the shooting jobs, even if you were the fastest gun in camp. Somehow learning you were not a man had tainted his idea of you… the one he’d spoken so highly of that first day to Arthur and Hosea. You supposed that going along with Arthur could only help you in the long run. 

You went to saddle your horse, but he stopped you, a gentle hand on your wrist, letting go as soon as he had your attention. “We don’t need ‘em both, just ride with me.”

You nodded, doing as you were told and trying not to make a big deal out of it. He’d helped you up first, hands placed carefully at your waist when he heaved you upwards. He climbed up in front of you, and suddenly you didn’t know where to put your hands. You’d never ridden behind a saddle before, you never needed to. 

He sensed your awkward reaches, even if he didn’t see them. He adjusted himself on the saddle before meeting your hands behind his back and pulling them around his sides to hold on. Your breath caught in your throat from how casually he’d done it, and how softly he touched you. 

“That’s a nice flower in your hair, by the way,” he muttered, not even looking back before grabbing the reins and leading the horse out of camp. 

-

The train job had been decided, but not without long and strenuous arguments about the roles to be played. 

The first draft of said plan excluded you, and you didn’t even have to wonder why. None of the other women were included, either. 

The second draft of the plan included both you and Abigail, but as mere pawns instead of actual roles. 

The final plan will go as follows:

Abigail is going to make it so that a certain man never boards the train with his colleague. Fair enough, she is definitely the woman for the job, as even having her in the near vicinity of a man is distraction enough. You will board the train with the colleague, and lead him to believe that you’re frightened of the journey ahead, getting him to drink with you and become more ‘comfortable.’ After that, it’s up to you to lure him to the back of the train, where Arthur, Bill, and Dutch will be waiting to interrogate this man, and find out where his private safe is. From there, Javier, who will be at the front of the train, will cause it to stop by sticking up the enginemen so you all can hop off at a designated point. 

From there you’ll go find the man’s safe, and rob him before he even has a chance to understand what’s happened to him. This is the only chance you will have at this job, since the man in question will be leaving El Paso once and for all.

It sounds like a solid plan, except for the fact that it was suggested you don’t even need a gun. 

“Of course she needs a gun, Dutch, she’s the fastest one here,” Hosea argued, a hand running over his face. 

“If we’re not planning on shooting, what makes you think she needs to bring it with her? It could blow our cover,” Dutch insisted, arms waving around for emphasis. He didn’t even make a good point, because as it were, you always kept a gun on you in the holster on your thigh, a little present from the man you gave you flowers. 

“You’re sending her to do the most dangerous part of the job, she needs a weapon.”

“If Abigail doesn’t need one, then she doesn’t need one, either,” Dutch reasoned, but that just made you chime in. 

“Abigail should have one, too. Everyone involved on a job should have protective assurance, just in case,” you shrugged, uncrossing your arms and leaning on the table. “I don’t even leave camp without my pistol.”

Dutch sighed, having dug himself into a deeper hole the more he kept on talking. He was smart, and he had a way with words, but he wasn’t going to be able to pull something like this and now he knew it. You’d been attached to that pistol for far longer than you have been to the camp. 

“Alright,” he nodded, continuing his explanation of what happens after they find the man’s personal safe. 

The man in the plan was named Albert Templeton, and he apparently was a very wealthy man, looking to make it big in the west by covering as many territories as he could with his canning factories. From what Dutch says, he seems to be a very selfish, very ambitious, and very rich man. 

You agree to this job, unknowing of the way it will unfold, but when you finally board that train, handing over your ticket with your hands shaking, you don’t know what to do, suddenly. 

Everything is going according to plan, except for the fact that you have absolutely no experience in trying to get a man drunk on purpose. 

“You look, a bit frightened, miss, are you alright?” Mr. Albert Templeton asked, right after you ‘accidentally’ bumped into him. 

“Yes… Well, no… I’ve never been on a train before,” you huffed out, your stressed tone coming across perfectly for the job. “You seem like you’ve been on many.”

“That I have, my dear,” he smiled eerily, moving an unwanted hand to your hip to try and guide you to the bench he was sitting at. “Come and sit with me, perhaps I can ease your mind.”

“How gracious of you,” you played along, sitting down beside him in the seat closest to the window. You didn’t like feeling trapped between him and the wall, but there was no difference. You still had a gun up your leg if he tried anything stupid. 

“So, where are you headed?” 

“Oh,” you had forgotten to think of a backstory, so as quickly as you could, you made one up. “I’m going to visit my aunt. She’s very Ill, otherwise she would have come to see me. She knows I don’t like trains.”

“How unfortunate for her,” he nodded, snaking his arm behind you on the back of the bench seat, caging you in further. “I’m sure she’ll be happy for your company.”

“I hope so, we’ve always been a great comfort to one another.”

The conversation kept on like this for a while, until you realized you were getting closer and closer to the point of which Dutch needed him in the back, but he hadn’t even gotten to the bar of the train car yet. 

“Would you have a drink with me, sir? I feel that maybe it would ease my nerves a bit.”

He laughed, a smile on his face when he leaned back to you. “I never drink on trains. But I would be much obliged to buy you one, yourself.”

You started to panic from there. 

You smiled at him and nodded, getting him to stand up… however, before you got him to the bar, you tried to carefully and quietly take your gun from its holster, pressing it against the rib of the man before you. He froze, knowing what was happening immediately. 

“Don’t make a sound. Just keep walking until I tell you to stop, you hear?” 

He nodded, making his way to the end of the car, going into the next one, and the next one after that until you could see three familiar faces sitting and waiting for you. 

“What the hell is this?” Dutch asked, his eyes narrowing in on the gun in your hand. 

“He wouldn’t drink, had to come up with something else.”

Arthur ran a hand over his face. This is why you usually rode with him. You did things the way he would, and not with the gentle and intelligent touch of a female outlaw like Abigail. For all intents and purposes, you'd always been a man, and this was breaking the cycle for you.

“Please don’t hurt me, I have nothing you could want.”

“The hell you don’t,” Dutch manhandled Albert onto a cargo box, pulling his own gun and holding it to strike fear into the man. “We’ve heard about the safe.”

“What safe?” He played dumb, and then Dutch immediately got angry. 

“You see? This is why he needed to be drunk!” Dutch took out his anger for the situation on you, even though the majority of this was not your fault. 

“Told ya, she should be back at camp fixing buttons and shit with the others,” Bill shook his head, and you were about to pull your gun in his direction if he said another word. 

“He wouldn’t drink, it ain’t her fault. She still got him to us… I say we make him talk,” Arthur stood up, clenching his fists and intimidating the man by coming closer. “S’nothing I ain’t used to.”

“Do what you can, Arthur… and you,” Dutch pointed in your direction, his brow still angry. “Go back up there and make sure no one saw you pull that gun.”

You nodded, taking yourself away from the scene in order to keep your composure. Arthur stood up for you, but you could tell that even he was upset about straying from the plan. This was a big job, with many key elements. One thing going wrong could ruin it all.

You made your way back, but saw Javier rushing towards you in the bar car, his gun out as he tried to reach you. 

“Brooks,” he started to shove you back to the car you came from, and just over his shoulder you could see the men trailing not too far behind, looking like train security. “We have to go, they know we’re here.”

You started rushing for the last car again, tripping over your skirts here and there. This dress was not practical, and was far too formal for a job like the one you were pulling. You much preferred the one Arthur bought you, but Dutch insisted it didn’t ‘sell the story’ that you were trying to tell. 

“Why in God’s name are you back here?” 

Dutch didn’t have a minute to grill you, because Javier took the floor first. 

“They know we’re here, there’s about five men heading this way, now. Maybe more.”

Arthur sighed heavily, pulling his fist back to his side. He’d only hit Mr Albert Temlpeton a few times, but it seemed the job was going south, and he hadn’t said anything anyway. 

“Arthur, turn him loose, the rest of you, find cover… we’re gonna have to shoot our way out.” 

Albert taking off through the doors only allowed the train guards to know exactly where you all were hiding. With guns blazing, the five of you were able to get past the small group that had headed for you… but once you got to the civilian travel cars, there were more, and they had bigger guns, too. You got scared to pull a gun in a heavily crowded train car, especially one that had innocent men, women, and children inside. You held your aim, like always, but got scared when the second round of guards came for you. 

“Drop your weapons!” The man at the front of them shouted. “Get on the ground, now!”

“Or maybe we could walk right through,” Dutch was the first to shoot, nailing the man right in the face. It was challenging to stay focused on the task at hand, when so many people were screaming. 

A child was crying, and most everyone was just trying to duck in their seats as the bullets flew. You were too scared to shoot at first, seeing the windows break around you, and the high speed of the train causing the winds to blow inside the car, making it hard to hear anything. 

You tried to hold your ground, knowing you were a better shot than anyone here… but there comes a time in everyone’s life, when the chaos prevents them from doing the one thing they know how to… this was that moment for you. Everything was caving in. You’d completely ruined this job, and it was going haywire because of you. You put your friends, no, family, in a very dangerous position, and most of all, you put innocent men, women, and children on the front lines to fend for themselves. All because you strayed from the plan. 

You saw it, but it was too late… the man had pulled his gun directly towards you, and you barely had any time to react this time. You still fired first, and still shot him dead first, but his bullet still left the barrel, skewing downwards because of your own shot, and hitting you directly by your left hip. 

You collapsed into a seat, trying to get yourself back up. You started bleeding profusely with every steep movement you made, and once the last Guard had been shot down, Arthur saw what happened to you. 

“Red!” he shouted, reaching for your body, making sure you’d not been hit badly. He was relieved to see it was a hip shot, but the amount of blood concerned him greatly. “Can you stand?” 

“I can try,” you groaned out, holstering your gun before using him as a lift. 

The others went to the front of the car, not wasting any time, but as soon as they looked through the broken window, they could see more men quickly approaching.

“Shit, we can’t stop the train.” 

“We’ll have to jump from the back of this car,” Javier responded to Dutch, who was pacing back and forth, glaring daggers at you out of the corner of his eyes. 

“Are we close enough to the exit point?” 

“It doesn’t matter, the ground is even now, we need to jump before the bridge.”

Arthur was freaking out, trying to hold pressure to your hip and hold you upright, while they were talking about jumping off a train. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so stressed out about a job before. 

You start to get light headed suddenly, and sway in his hold, trying to keep yourself balanced, though the train is making it hard to do that anyways. 

The sound becomes fuzzy, but you can here when Dutch calls everyone back to the door of the cabin car. 

“Stay with me,” Arthur tells you, watching your head tilt forward and your eyes get heavy. He knew you would pull through, because even though you were losing a decent amount of blood, you were still on your feet, moving along with him. You were a fighter, he’d known since he met you. Probably because you liked fighting him on damn near everything he said. 

He stood at the edge of the rail, the only thing separating the gang from jumping the transport was a little dingy chain that hooked onto the edge of the cabin car. 

“It’s up here!” Javier shouted, removing the chain and getting ready to disembark. 

“We gotta jump, Red,” he tried to keep you conscious, and you nodded, but you were clearly too weak to do this yourself right now. 

You felt yourself being tucked closer to Arthur, his arms coming around you. You finally closed your eyes, unsure if they would even stay open on their own anymore. Then there was a lift and a jump. You felt the air around you flying fast until the wind got knocked out of you, hitting the ground. Arthur took the harder fall, but to be fair, he hadn’t been shot. 

You opened your eyes in a rush of adrenaline, but once you caught your breath, it started to fade again. 

Everyone stood up, including you, but you were still wobbling back and forth. 

“Well,” Dutch looked to Bill and Javier, “We’re alive, but we got nothing.”

“S’all the girl’s fault,” Bill spat out some blood from his bleeding lip and shook his head. 

You didn’t even have the motivation to call him out right now. Didn’t have the energy to stand, either. Before Arthur could even steady you, your head started throbbing, and you hit the ground again, hand over your open wound.

-

The sounds were familiar when you came to. The usual ruckus of the camp, nothing strange or out of the ordinary… except for when you tried to sit up you were immediately pushed back down. You had a look around and saw that you were not in your tent, but lying in Arthur’s cot. His gentle push was what kept you laid back, and you saw the look on his face when he found out you were awake. 

“Don’t get up, I gotta fix you so ya don’t bleed out.”

You didn’t say anything, just obeyed his instruction. 

He’d gotten that stupid puffed sleeve nonsense off of you, leaving you in a corset and chemise and a small petticoat. Of which he was having a hard time figuring out how to untie. 

“I’ll get it,” you leaned up slightly, groaning when you did. You untied the petticoat, and worked off the corset while you were at it. Being in a chemise and bloomers in front of the camp wasn’t an irregular thing, as it was standard sleepwear when on the run. There were not many normalities when being an outlaw, but even still, you nearly felt embarrassed being in such a skimpy state of dress, especially when he wasn’t even done. 

He looked to you, his hands on the hem of your chemise, and you nodded to him in permission. 

He pulled it back, only enough to see where the blood was seeping through. His face twisted in disgust of the wound before shaking it off and getting to work. You laid back and waited, knowing that when all was said and done, you didn’t want to watch yourself get stitched up. You’d never had to do it to yourself before, and thank God for that. 

“It was stupid, what you did…” He brought up, cleaning the wound with some whiskey on a rag. 

“I know,” you winced, squeezing your eyes shut. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

He paused his wording, unsure of what else to say to you. He’s sure getting shot was a revelation for you that you weren’t invincible, but he also wanted you to know you weren’t blameless in this endeavor, either. 

“You got some innocent folk killed today.” 

When the first and second stitch went in, you were about ready to die. Him telling you this was not helping with the outstanding pain. 

“You know I never meant for it to happen…” you trailed, thinking about those poor children that you heard screaming in the train today. Such a sad and significant moment, and you’ll never forget it. You knew you’d been the one to cause them such distress, and some of those innocent folk were dead now.

“You sure about that?” He looked up at you from his task, his hands still gently working your skin back together. His actions and words confused you, because they were so opposite right now, and you didn’t know why. 

“What do you mean?” You met his gaze, a furrowed brow on your face.

“As I see it… you used to kill a lotta folk just for fun before I met you.”

Why is he even bringing this up? You’d told him why you did what you did, and how much of a toll it took on you… so why now, when all this has transpired, would he bring up the origins of your gunslinger facade?

“Arthur… I did what I had to. They would have killed me first. I ain’t never started a duel in my life, n’ you know that,” you reminded him, and he seemed to understand that it was wrong of him to say. He didn’t apologize, though… just kept on with what he felt he needed to say. 

“Look, all I’m sayin is… you had one job today, and it felt like you went off the road just to spite Dutch,” he argued, tying off the thread that pulled your skin closed. There was still cleaning to be done around the wound, and some sort of bandage would need to be applied, just in case of excess bleeding… but you sat up, stopping him from finishing anything. 

“Is that what he told you?”  you asked, referring to Dutch, of course.

“No, I was wonderin about it myself.”

“I wasn’t tryna get anybody hurt. Dutch used to put me riding with you, remember? I always did good. Now he wants me to do a job he thinks a woman is suited for, and I’m not so good anymore. Why do you think that is?” You asked, the annoyance written all over your face and dripping in your words. 

“You could’ve called it off. We could have just told Javier to come back and wait it out until the next station. We’ve bailed on jobs before when it got too dangerous…” he explained, his voice raising just slightly again to meet your level of ferocity. 

You took a second to breathe when he spoke. In all honesty, you’d never had to leave a job before, because when you started riding with them as Texas Red, the jobs always went through. No one told you about the bail out rule.

“I didn’t know that...”

“Well you should’ve at least told us he wouldn’t drink. Then you wouldn’t be to blame.” He didn’t quite meet you at the calm state, his anger still peeking, even when yours had come down. Saying what he just said was about to make matters so much worse, though.

“You think I’m to blame?”

“I think you played a massive part in this shit hole, yeah…” he huffed out, nodding his head and looking at you as if that should somehow get you to agree with him. 

“I don’t wanna hear this anymore,” you scoffed, standing to your feet and grabbing your belongings. You felt the sting of the stitches pulling, and tried to be mindful of them, but the way he was speaking to you, especially while you bled on his cot, was not something you could take. 

“Get back here, I ain’t finished cleanin’ you up.” He stood to his feet, trying to take steps after you, but even injured, you were stubborn and quick on your feet, pulling away from his reach.

“Abigail will help me.”

“You stubborn ass, why can’t you ever just listen when you’re wrong?” He shouted after you, which had you turning on your heel to shout back to his face. 

“Maybe because I’m not!”

Your face didn’t even read anger as much as in did pain. Not the physical kind. The ailments you faced with your body, you took like a champ… but this pain in your heart and mind was far more complicated, and when he saw how saddened you were by him, he didn’t know what to do… but of course, his anger was still rising, though yours turned to something else.

“Damnit, Red… you’re gonna find yourself in a nice deep hole someday, and you���ll have pushed away everyone that cares to help you out of it.”

“I can climb out of it myself, then.” You muttered, taking the steps back to him so he could really look you in the eye when you said this… “I used to think you cared about me… wanted to help me. But you’re just like him.”

“Like who?” he asks, jutting his chin out for a moment to seem tough. 

“You’re just like Dutch… just want me to play the part of the sweet little pet that lures the men into your jobs. I won’t do it… I can’t do it, clearly.”

“That ain’t what this is about,” He grabbed your wrist as you went to turn away again, and you pulled it loose. “You know I think you’re talented with that gun.”

“Then why don’t you ever fight for me to use it? Why is it that every time Dutch wants to make me into something I’m not, you stand by and watch it happen?” You weren’t meaning it as a hypothetical question, you really wanted an answer. Standing here, the camp noise having been drowned out by your argument, you watched as he searched for something to say, but he couldn’t find anything… nothing that could save him, at least. “That’s what I thought… just stay away from me, Arthur.”

“Red?” 

“Leave me alone!”

-

You took to the new town, the argument with Arthur the days prior still fresh on your mind. You knew you’d messed everything up, and it was most definitely your fault. You can only see it now, Dutch giving a big speech while you’re away to convince everyone that you shouldn’t be doing big jobs anymore. If only he’d just given you Javier’s place on the train, and had Abigail or Karen go after Albert Templeton, the gang might be a couple thousand bucks richer right now. 

You’d not just taken to the town as the girl they wanted you to be, because that girl didn’t exist. 

There was only the girl you grew up as, and Texas Red, no in-between. It wasn’t the sweet Miss Brooks going into the bustling saloon of El Paso, it was Texas Red, the unkillable. 

Maybe that’s where you’d gone all wrong. Wearing dresses, letting your hair start to grow, and even wiping the muck off your face whenever it gets there… you’d practically handed them a reason to treat you differently. 

All of this is your fault. The mistreatment, the exclusion, the job gone wrong, everything. 

It’s the heavy weight on your mind when you roll up to the bar, gun hanging heavy on your hip, the now thirty-three notches becoming a bigger and stronger presence every time you reach for it. 

“Whiskey, double,” you knocked on the wooden bar slab, a grimace on your face while waiting for the drink. You put the money down immediately, just as always. It became a habit as soon as interruptions became common anytime you went for a whiskey. 

You threw back the first drink then ordered another, throwing that one back, too. You got into a steady rhythm until there was a tap on your shoulder. 

You turned around, eyes becoming glazed, and hands becoming tightly fisted. Whoever was bothering you has no idea how much of a mood you’re in, but if they aren’t careful, they’re gonna end up dead. 

“Hey, I know you,” the man spoke. He looked to be about early forties, with silver lines in his dark hair, and smile lines over his cheeks. 

You gave him a look, up and down, before you decided he was mistaken. 

“No, you don’t.” You turned back to the bar, but he tapped your shoulder again, and the pistol at your side was feeling oh so heavy, waiting for your hand to pull it. 

“Yeah, I’ve seen you,” he laughed, a broad and excited smile. “You’re that Texas Red fellar from down in Agua Fria.”

“Just ‘cuz I got red hair, it don’t make me Texas Red,” you slurred, slightly, the alcohol buzzing your senses, but not your reflexes. Your hands are practically itching to shoot something, or someone, and this guy seems like the perfect target. 

“Nah, I know s’you,” he seemed a little drunk, too… but probably not drunk enough to walk away. “Seen your face when you shot that farmer.”

“Farmer?” You don’t even recall a farmer-

“Robert Sims… good man that fellow,” he droned on, seemingly hesitant to get to the point. “But you were the better shot.”

“M’sorry if he was a friend’a yours,” you gave condolences, hoping it would shoo him away, but as you remember, they never go away. “I didn’t wanna shoot ‘im.”

“Nah, he wanted to shoot you,” the man nodded, backing away only slightly before pulling his coat back, revealing a pistol of his own, right on his hip. No notches. “I wanna shoot you, too.”

You rolled your eyes and heaved a breath, looking to the man with a direct gaze. “You’re too drunk, you’ll die.”

He tapped the wooden counter, where your unfinished drink was sitting. “You’ve been drinkin’ too, been watchin’ ya.”

“So you think it’s fair?” You laughed, knowing you were nowhere near drunk enough to miss even a moving target, and be fast enough to hit him first. Maybe your fingers had been itchin’ for a reason, and this was it. 

Shooting this man may not bring you joy, but it would bring some security. You’re still as good as they say, despite Dutch and some of the others back at camp. You’re still Texas Red, and you’re still unkillable. Earning the respect of this town, just as you did in Agua Fria would bring you that feeling of confidence that you had slowly been losing in the gang. 

“I think I like my chances,” he quipped, earning some oohs from the crowd in the bar. By now you both held almost every ear within the reach of your voices, and the attention was deafening. 

They always say that… Why do they always say that?

“Alright,” you turned back to the bar, slamming your drink. “Let’s take it outside.”

The cheering, followed by the chants of your challenger’s name were louder than you expected. They don’t know you, but they will. 

You set your pistol, taking thirty paces away from your opposer. As soon as you turn around, there’s a silence amongst the whole town. You watch the man’s hands, the alcohol doing nothing to stop your trigger fingers from getting ready. You never draw first. It’s already an unfair fight, why make it worse?

“Need me to count?” the man says, and you shake your head, thinking you ought to just shoot him. He’s an obnoxious bastard, but he’s cocky and confident, you’ll give him that. 

“I ain’t one for countin’,” you yelled, and saw that he almost seemed a little nervous, now. He was always nervous, but now it was on his face. He was drunk, and this was stupid. You should just shoot him in the hand and let him walk away… but you don’t. 

You’ve been angry since what happened with Arthur, and you have to take it out somehow. If you can’t drink in peace without ass-hats like this bothering you, then you just have to take care of the ass-hats. 

Suddenly, you see his hand dip, gripping the stock and beginning to pull it. You reacted like always, your hand on autopilot while your brain was elsewhere. 

The man was dead in less than a second, and you came back to reality with a hammering soberness once the shot rang out.

Thirty-four....

It was the adrenaline, finally kicking in, only long enough to give you a moment of clarity… and looking up from the dead man, across the way by the general store, stood Arthur. He was probably getting supplies for the camp. 

He’d stopped to watch, a look of disappointment on his face. He doesn’t think himself a good man, but he’s never had to go from town to town, striking fear into those he meets. He tries to be kind when he can, earning the trust of people, unlike you. You haven’t even earned the trust of the people in camp. You’ve lied to all of them.

The crowd’s cheers and encouragement pull you out of your haze, and a man jumps in front of you, separating your vision of Arthur. You didn’t want to see his sad eyes, anyways. 

Everyone pulls you back inside the saloon, and the music strikes back up again… maybe this ain’t so bad after all.

-

Ten drinks is a lot for anyone, but especially for you, who already had multiple drinks upon first walking into the saloon. No one else dared challenge you, nor did they want to. The drunker you got, the crazier you seemed to act, your reserved gunslinger facade melted right away, and you turned into something of a wild man. The people were very entertained by your stories, the ones about Agua Fria, and then of course traveling with a gang to explore the west. You left names out, of course. Just because you were drunk, didn’t mean you were stupid. 

It was after you started stuttering over your feet that two working girls came up to you. They were some of the most gorgeous women you’d ever seen, busty around the chest, with low necklines, and stunning faces framed by their bouncy brushed out hair. 

“Can I help you ladies?” You tipped your hat to them, a smirk on your lips from the last joke you told to the crowd. 

“We were hopin’ we could help you,” The blonde one spoke, and with a smile she started to lean against your arm. “We’ll knock the price for two…”

“That’s very kind’a you, but I ain’t gettin’ a room,” you told them, the same excuse you always had used for women of the night in Agua Fria. 

“We’ll get the room, handsome… just pay the price of one for a night,” the brunette girl said, trying to hang off your shoulder, running her hands over it. You had to slide back into the bar to avoid getting her hands on your chest. If she did then you’d be in deep shit. 

“How about I make a trip back here some other time, then I’ll come n’ see you two?”

The blonde girl didn’t seem to be holding back, her lips trailing mighty close to your ear. You always knew how to play the part, but you never expected that women would be falling over you this way. It was both alarming and reassuring.  

“You sure? Why don’t we just take a ride out back?” 

You were getting woozy, the way they pulled at your arms while you were leaning against the bar was swirling your head. 

“There ya are, Red!” Came a familiar voice from the side of you. “Knew I’d find you in here…”

“Arthur?” Your vision was only slightly fuzzy, but you could always make out the clear silhouette of the most towering and strongly built man you knew. 

“Thanks for findin’ my brother, girls,” he played it off, reaching for your arm to pull you forward. You resisted him at first. “C’mon Red, let’s get you a nice place to sleep tonight.”

“No,” you pulled out of his grasp, unwilling to be manhandled by the same person who told you all those awful things just a few days ago. “I wanna stay with my new friends.”

“They ain’t your friends, kid. C’mon, let’s go.” He tugged you forwards, heaving you up to stand on your own two feet, before picking you up like a hay bale, letting you dangle under his arm as he made his way for the stairs. 

“Hey! Let me down!” You cried, squirming in his hold. 

He’d already paid for a room for the night, but getting you up there was hell. “Would you stop fightin’ me?”

“No, I wanna go back downstairs…” You trailed, getting stood upright again as he shoved you into a room and closed the door. 

“If you do that, Texas Red is as good as dead.”

He locked the door and made sure to put a chair under the knob. He didn’t necessarily know how the folk in this town behaved yet. You’d seen more of it than he had since arriving. 

 “Ain’t no man ever killed me,” You droned on, your words pouring out like that of a child, with little to no thought. 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You mean them pretty girls that wanted to take me for a ride?” You laughed, letting him push you until you were sat on the bed. He knelt down and helped you take your boots off before tugging your hat from your head, throwing it in a chair. 

“S’not the kinda ride you were thinkin’,” he sighed, unsure of if you even knew how drunk you were. 

“You mean the other kinda ride?” Your obnoxious and bellaring voice could nearly pierce the walls when you were this inebriated. 

“Would you stop bein’ so damn loud? Whole place is gonna hear you n’ yer blabberin’...”

“You’re just jealous cuz the girls were fallin’ all over me instead’a you.”

He rolled his eyes with a scoff. Those girls were seein’ an easy target. They thought you were a man they could distract and rob, and maybe have a little fun with along the way. 

“I’m sure that’s it… lay down and shut up, will ya?” He shoved you back into the bed, and you groaned, your head hitting even the soft pillows was jarring, and you were sure you’d be feeling it tomorrow. 

You figured you better do as you were told, with this situation feeling less ideal the more sober you got. Each minute passed by made you realize just how much shit you would be in with him once you woke up tomorrow. Still, you were drunk enough to start raking over all the earlier thoughts that lead you here in the first place. 

“Arthur?” 

“What?” He laid back on the other side of the bed, crossing his arms and trying to rest… but of course you weren’t done. 

“Do you think I’d be better if I were a real man?” 

“No, I do not.” He huffed, his tone flat and his motionless figure unchanging.  

“Why?” You turned on your side to look at him, and boy, he looked handsome in this light. Barely illuminated through a window, but you could see the dark outline of his features.  

“You’re just fine as a woman,” he claimed, still unchanging in position. 

“But everyone hates me as one, they love when I’m him.” You liked being him, too. You were confident as Texas Red. Stronger, Faster. Braver…

“They don’t hate ya, they just have different ideas about ya… not that it’s right.” He thought that maybe you’d drop it from here, maybe pick it up another time when he was less tired, and you were more in your right mind. 

“What are your ideas?” 

“Huh?” He finally turned to face you, unsure of what you were even talking about. 

“About me… what are your ideas?”

“Well… I happen to think you’re real strong, and smart. I think you’ve got gifts that even I don’t understand, and you’re good at using ‘em… I also think you’re a caring person, even when you shouldn’t be.” He listed only the things that came to mind, but he knew there were so many more that he was only not remembering. 

“Those are all good things…” You supposed. 

“Guess so,” he nodded, watching your face contort, as if you were debating on telling him something. You were still stone cold drunk, even if there was a hint of normalcy to you at this point. You wouldn’t remember any of it tomorrow, of that he was sure. 

“I think I love you, Mister Morgan,” you let out, looking at him, but not waiting for a reaction. Even in your tarnished state, you’d just wanted him to know what you were feeling.

“No you don’t, s’just the whiskey,” he argued, his whole body tensing up in fear of how to respond to this drunken revelation. Drunk words are sober thoughts. Everyone knows that. 

“I do, I love ya more than anything,” you rambled on, completely entranced with the silhouette of him against the cool light of the moonlit windowsill. 

“If you really do, you gotta tell me when you’re sobered up,” he instructed. He wanted it to be true, hell, he’d thought it might have been true when first arriving here… but the train job seemed to put you both at square one again, and he was getting tired of it. There was so much he wanted to say to you, but he couldn’t risk being wrong about you feeling the same way. He’s lost too much love in this life to blindly pursue it again. He was tired of getting his heart stomped on.

“I’ll tell you… Swear it,” you crossed your heart, giving him a doe eyed smile. “Do you love me?” 

“I can’t tell you yet,” he shook his head, looking back up to the ceiling. 

“But I told you…”

“I know, sweet girl… just be patient, alright? I’m gonna get there, promise.” 

You nodded, turning on your own back and staring up at the ceiling, a single crack in the painted plaster going along the corner of it, keeping you distracted enough to stop thinking about Arthur and fall asleep next to him. 

-

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll @yyiikes @phantasyy @puffyhairedhipster @scorpio-echo

[desib717]

Reading the newest war machines chapter today got me thinking about Fria, and then I started thinking about her in the context of canon, and about how, if Penny's story were truly to be finished as it is now, it kind of makes Fria's whole arc pointless? The last several months or even years of her life were manipulated and controlled by Ironwood to make sure the powers would be sent to Winter. All agency taken away, separated from any family or friends she may have had, but in the end, she chose Penny anyway. She denied Ironwood's plans for her and her death, and sent the powers to someone she decided was worthy of them. So for that to ultimately result in Winter's gaining of the powers being delayed by... a single volume? Feels weird

We know Fria had to have been the Winter Maiden for decades by the time of her death, so for her dying choice of who to pass the powers to, especially with so much working against that choice, to end up being so inconsequential just doesn't sit right

[bridgyrose]

Great stories as always! Now for my next prompt request:

Oscar tells the gang about a cousin that used to visit him regularly. The gang later finds out that said cousin was in fact, Amber.

(I'm pretty sure Jaune is the only one, so lets have some angst with this.)

“All of this maiden and magic business reminds me of a cousin of mine,” Oscar said as he swung Ozpin’s cane at the target in front of him. “Though I stopped hearing from her after classes started.” 

Jaune paused for a moment as she watched Oscar start to slow down with his training. “What was she like?” 

“She was nice, a few years older than me, always traveled around after becoming a huntress. When she’d stop by the farm, it was a nice change of pace to watch her do some small tricks with her semblance. Usually small things like using fire or ice to create images in the air, levitating with the wind, just some fun parlor tricks.” 

“Sounds like she’s a pretty interesting person,” Ruby said as she folded up her scythe. “What was her name?” 

“Amber.” 

Jaune froze mid swing of his sword as he heard the name as it almost echoed in his mind. All it brought back were memories of following Pyrrha down into the depths of Beacon Tower with Ozpin, Qrow, and professor Goodwitch, seeing Amber in the aura transfer machine and Pyrrha agree to get in without any further questions. He was pulled out of his thoughts as he felt Nora slam her hammer into him, knocking him into one of the walls of the Atlas training room. He winced as he picked himself up, aura starting to flicker. 

“Jaune, are you okay?” Nora asked as she offered a hand to him. 

“I’m fine,” Jaune said as he took Nora’s hand, glancing at his scroll on his wrist and watching his aura start to recharge. “Guess I got a bit distracted.” 

“Maybe that’s enough training then,” Ren said. “Its been a long day for us and it’ll be even longer tomorrow with all the missions we have to run through.” 

Jaune nodded as he half listened to Oscar tell Ruby and Blake about Amber, Ruby practically hanging on to every word that was said as if she was listening to one of her favorite fairy tales. Not that he blamed her, the way Oscar talked about Amber was almost as if she was a fairy tale herself, using the elements with her semblance as easily as Nora was able to charge with lightning or how Ruby was able to use hers to maneuver through crowds.Though the longer he listened, the more he realized that he was the only one that really that Amber was the previous fall maiden. When Ozpin and Qrow talked about the maidens before, they were always careful to leave out names of who they were, even Fria’s name took time to get from Qrow and Ironwood while she was being protected by Atlas. 

But that wasnt what bothered him. No, what really bothered him were the memories he thought he was over. The last few memories he had of Pyrrha, his partner and friend, a woman he didnt even realize that he loved until she was gone. All because she was given the illusion of a choice that played at her emotions. 

“I do hope she’s okay,” Oscar continued as he neared the end of his story about Amber. “The only time she ever got this quiet was when she was sick, and even then it was only a few weeks of silence. Now, its been almost a year.” 

Jaune sighed quietly as he sheathed his sword into his shield. “Its because she was killed by Cinder.” 

Everyone went quiet as they heard Jaune speak, his words speaking louder than what he had. Minutes passed while everyone let the revelation sink into them, only the sounds of weapons being folded up and sheathed. Finally, Oscar broke the silence. “You… you knew her?” 

“I… I didnt know her, but I saw her.” Jaune folded his shield and put it onto his hip, looking around at everyone as they watched him. He sat down and pulled out his scroll, smiling at a small picture of Pyrrha that he kept as a tear rolled down his cheek. “When I saw her, she was half dead. Put into the same aura transfer machine that Fria’s in, scarring along her face. My partner, Pyrrha, she… she was chosen to be the next fall maiden by Ozpin. But instead of letting things happen naturally, they wanted to transfer what was left of Amber’s powers and soul to Pyrrha using the transfer machine.” 

“I-I didnt know she was a maiden,” Oscar said as he sat down next to Jaune. “Then what happened?” 

Jaune wiped a few tears from his eyes and put his scroll away. “She was killed. Pyrrha went into the machine, they started the transfer, and then Cinder shot an arrow into her heart and stole the rest of the maiden powers from her.” He took a breath and looked down at his hand, not realizing how much he’d been shaking after he started to talk. “I… I ended up losing Pyrrha that same day. She went after Cinder, and I know she didnt think she was going to survive, but she did what any huntress was supposed to do. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” 

Oscar nodded and stood up, voice shaking as he spoke. “I-I… I need to go.” 

“You sure know how to kill the mood, dontcha?” Yang joked as she lightly hit Jaune’s shoulder. 

Jaune didnt answer, getting up and following after Oscar. It hadnt been his intent to upset him, but the old memories had boiled back up to the surface and he couldnt hold it back. He nearly flinched as he heard the dorm room door slam shut, pausing in front of it before knocking. “May… may I come in?” 

“Sure,” Oscar answered through the door. 

Jaune slowly walked into the dorm and quietly closed the door behind him. He sat down next to Oscar and sighed. “I’m sorry. I didnt mean to hurt you-” 

“It wasnt you.” Oscar took a breath and laid down on his bed. “After I heard Beacon fell, I had already assumed the worst when I didnt hear back from her. And as the months went by, I figured that maybe by following what Ozpin wanted, finding you guys and helping stop Salem, I could find her again. I… I didnt want her to be gone.” 

“She’s not completely gone.” Jaune moved a bit closer to Oscar and placed his hand on his. “A friend told me that even though someone’s dead, it doest mean they’re gone. Amber’s spirit will always be with you no matter where you go.” 

Oscar wiped a few tears. “T-that does make me feel better.” 

Jaune smiled a bit and got up. “Take some time, let it out, and then tonight we can go out and find something to do. Maybe get some ice cream or something.” 

“That… that does sound good.” 

“You’re like a brother to me. And I want to make sure you’re taken care of too.” 

“Thank you.” 

Jaune walked out the dorm, closing the door behind him and pausing when he heard Oscar start to cry. He stayed outside the dorm for what felt like minutes before walking away, pulling out his scroll and starting to plan out a night around town and re-arranging the missions he took for the next day to make sure he could stay close to Oscar. Oscar needed someone and he was planning to be the best big brother he could be for him. 

[monokerus]

Vet ni, ju mer jag tänker på det desto mer förbannad blir jag på SVT. Melodifestivalen är Sveriges största underhållningsprogram. Om man tittar några år tillbaka i tiden fick vi mellanakter som var minnesvärda och roliga, programledarna hade manus som faktiskt bidrog med något och programmet var upplagt så det kändes så att de hade tid att visa allt de ville. Det här är vad vi fick i år:

Programledaren var till hälften ersatt med expertkommentatorer. Då programledaren väl syntes hade hon inget manus som hade med tävlingen att göra - hennes jobb verkade vara att låta tiden att gå så att det skulle finnas tid att räkna röster.

Manuset - vad pågick? I år var det många regeländringar, som knappt nämndes för en sekund, det var väldigt tighta deadlines för röstning som aldrig förvarnades, jag tror det nämndes att vi ska hålla i Eurovision i Malmö typ en gång på 6 veckor och 5 av 6 gånger som telefonslussarna stängdes satt programledaren mitt i en intervju och fick försöka avbryta/prata över publiken som började räkna ner själva.

Mellanakterna... här tycker jag vi ser antingen en väldigt tight budget, eller en stor brist på fantasi. Vi fick en fantastisk start med A*Teens, men vad hände sen? Björn verkade ha nästan fria tyglar (vilket jag kan säga som en överpresterande prokrastinist med konstant imposter syndrome kan intyga troligen inte var great för hans mentala hälsa) och det blev ofta mer awkward än kul. Hans tal med Kristian och hans trolleritrick var riktigt kul, men vem tyckte det var en bra idé att han skulle sjunga för sin mormor i tre minuter, något som inte hade något värde för publiken eftersom texten knappt kunde locka fram ett par enstaka skratt? Kunde de inte ha wrappat upp Björn/Carina-storyn under förra veckan och sen pumpat upp finalen med något stort (Björnzone var fantastiskt, men behövde Björn verkligen vara i ALLA mellanakter? Var budgeten så tight i år?)

Det är ett plus att artisterna får framföra sina vinnarlåtar igen, vilket de inte fick förra året, men att låta den börja i Greenroom och sen awkward vandra genom arenan känns billigt. Kan produktionen inte ge tillbaka de extra minuter som krävs för att sätta upp numret och låta dem framföra låtarna så som de är menade att spelas på scen?

Jag har följt vartenda deltävling i Mello sedan 2006. Några år har det varit lite sämre än andra, men produktionen i år kändes mer opersonlig än någonsin. Melloproduktionen älskar inte sitt program längre. Om Melloproduktionen tror att de fortfarande älskar sitt program så har de istället helt missat varför vi tittare älskar programmet. Gå tillbaka några år, se kärleken och charmen till den här cirkusen som bland andra Edward af Sillén och Daniel Rehn gav programmet med sina starka manus, och se hur stor kontrasten är. Det här är inte modernisering, det är ett hån mot vad underhållning kan vara.

Det var mitt TED-talk, ses till Eurovision då vår frälsare och gud Edward af Sillén kommer ge oss en show vi kan njuta av

[inspiredwriter]

Stefany : Dios, hace demasiado calor hoy 🥵😣💦☀️mejor me quitó mi ropa para refrescar mi cuerpo 😄👗🌬️*se quita su vestido* Oh si, justo que lo necesitaba tal vez me de baño 🤔😃🛁🫧🧼*mira en la mesita de noche* parece que uno de mis leos me dejó agua y una pastilla antiembarazo bueno si quieren 😏🤭💊🥤🩷💕💘*toma la pastilla y bebe el agua *Aaaah~😄🤤🥤💦(pensamientos💭) Cuál será de mis Leos que quieren hacer el amor conmigo🤔☺️💖🩷💕💘

Leo! Frío :*aparece enfrente de Stefany y la abraza en la cintura* hola cariño veo que viste el agua pasilla que te dejé 😏😉💖🩷💘❣️

Stefany :*se sonroja* Oh Leo frío eres tú veo que tienes las manos frias😳😄🤝❄️💓💞💝❣️

Leo! Frío : Sí porque siempre soy tan frío por ti 😏😘❄️🩷💝💞💖💕*quita el sujetador a Stefany*gatita tienes unos pechos tan hermosos que visto en mi vida 🥰😉👙❣️💘💞*besa a los pechos de Stefany* muah~😚💗❣️ mauh~💝💞❤️‍🔥 mauh~💘🩷💖*quita la tanga de Stefany* estoy emocionado que tener sexo contigo para refrescarte con mi frío igual que el baño 😈😘❄️🌬️💞💝🩷💕¿estás emocionada de hacer el amor conmigo? 😉😏💖💘💗❣️*aprieta el trasero de Stefany*

@inspiredwriter

Stefany: *Caresses Leo's cheek* Aaah, yeah, babe, I'll be happy to make love with you, because you're so beautiful moth with such pretty face😍🤗💖💘🩷💕 *Kisses Leo on the lips* Mmmmuah~😚💋💗💝❤️‍🔥💞 Let's start as soon as possible, I can't wait to feel you inside of me😍😄💓❤💞

Leo!Big Chill: *Places Sefany on the bed and continues caress her breast* Then get ready, Stefany, this is going to be something refreshing and exciting😏🥰🌬❄💘💗💞 *Takes off his hood and undresses* You've never seen me without a hood, my little snowflake, do you like what you see?😉🤗💖💓❤️‍🔥💕 *Becomes in a sexy position and waves his wings*

Stefany: *Blushes* Aaah, of course, baby, you look glorious, I just want to kiss your whole body😃😍💝💖❣️💕

Leo!Big Chill: Mmmh, thanks, Stefany, then you can already start doing this!🥰😈💗💘❤️‍🔥💕 *Lies on Stefany and kisses her on the lips* Mmmmuah~😚💓💗❤💞 *Inserts his penis into Stefany* Aaah, are you feeling better already, snowflake?😍🥰🌬❄💝💓💖💞

@swagreecrow

[bestworstcase]

You know, if the possibility of Summer not only being Salem's final lieutenant, but also possibly the person who accidentally killed the Spring Maiden (and who might also be Gretchen Rainart based on a previous theory mentioned somewhere)...

That's gotta be reaaaaaaally awkward if Summer was ever around Hazel at any point.

i’ve mentioned this before i think (<- i assume by “mentioned somewhere” you mean you read a theory post but can’t remember where in which case, the op was probably me, i’ve been on this train for a while) but:

the official story is that gretchen rainart, after enrolling at beacon academy, “tragically lost her life” on a training mission

per lionheart, the spring maiden was “determined, at first, when she inherited her powers, but the weight of responsibility proved to be too much for the child. she... ran. abandoned her training, everyone. that was over a decade ago.”

per raven: “she was scared when we found her! weak! no matter how much training i put her through, she never learned! she wasn’t cut out for this world! and with those powers, she would’ve been hunted her entire life. what i did—”

(“and which we are you referring to?”)

raven: “that’s why i tried to leave when i did. i’m not afraid, i’m smart.”

raven left taiyang shortly after yang was born. this would be approx. 15-16 years ago as of the beginning of V1. however, her statement that she “tried to leave” suggests that she stayed (reluctantly?) entangled with ozpin’s cause for longer.

eyeballing it, summer left when yang was around five and ruby about three. this would be about 12 years before the start of V1 and 3-4 years after raven broke things off with tai. since raven and summer were obviously still in close contact then, this tracks with the interpretation that leaving tai <> leaving ozpin.

‘more than a decade ago’ is vague but presumably means >10 and <20. so spring running away would have occurred approx. 10-18 years before the start of V1.

hm.

“nice story. but if gretchen’s death taught me anything, it was never to trust you.”

let’s consider the case of the runaway spring maiden. and, more specifically, the assumptions the fandom (myself included) have tended to make.

first assumption: the spring maiden trained in mistral or at haven academy.

no one ever says as much. qrow’s suggestion that the spring maiden was “picked up” by the branwen tribe after she ran away does not, in a world where trans-continental travel is commonplace (and was explicitly safer a decade+ ago than it is now), necessarily imply she ran away from haven. weiss got picked up by the branwen tribe after she ran away from atlas, after all.

likewise, amber’s presence at beacon and, later, fria’s in atlas prime the audience to link the spring maiden to haven. however, both amber and fria were in the academies because they were medically fragile and not expected to live for very long; prior to cinder’s attack, amber was traveling in rural vale, tailed by qrow. it also makes sense, in general, not to keep the living keys to the vaults in the same fortress as the vault they can open.

second assumption: lionheart knew her.

this follows from the assumption that she attended haven, but look at what’s missing from lionheart’s account: he never uses self-referential pronouns. his syntax leaves it ambiguous whether he knew this girl or if he’s simply repeating information he was given.

third assumption: raven’s “we” is the tribe, and she’s talking about finding the spring maiden after the girl ran away.

before V9, this was more plausible, but i don’t think it adds up now that we know raven was still at least notionally aligned with ozpin, via summer, as recently as twelve years ago. in order for “we” to mean the tribe, raven would have had to actually leave (as opposed to “trying to leave”); thus, either summer was conspiring with raven while raven was leading the tribe, or raven met the spring maiden after whatever went down with summer, in which case the third person involved is a complete mystery. the former is possible, but i think the simpler explanation—that this “we” is ozpin’s circle—is more plausible.

especially because what raven says lines up with what lionheart says. except for “she was determined at first,” but even if lionheart did know her, raven was clearly much closer to her and is the type to see through any façade the girl might have put up. (pyrrha was also “determined” but you know that if raven knew her, she would remember how scared pyrrha was. same principle likely applies here.)

fourth assumption: “what i did—” is solely about raven mercy-killing her.

which, it might be.

but if “we” means ozpin’s circle, that would mean raven was training the spring maiden on his behalf—and because it doesn’t really make sense for #3 to be anyone but the spring maiden, we can assume with high confidence that raven had a kindred link with her, ergo she loved the kid like her own family.

the spring maiden “ran away.” gretchen rainart “tragically lost her life on a training mission.” raven “tried to leave.” summer and raven and a third person were involved in a rogue mission to end things once and for all, none of them ever came back, and raven never told anyone what happened.

all of these things happened a bit more than a decade ago.

“what i did—”

i think she’s talking about summer’s last mission. the young spring maiden was overwhelmed, scared, struggling to learn what she needed to learn—and she had a huge target painted on her back because of salem. raven cared about her. if she wasn’t cut out for this world, the one defined by eternal war between ozpin and salem, then maybe the answer is to change the world. end it, once and for all. (sometimes it’s worth it all to risk the fall?) so she conspires with summer to do exactly that.

and then it goes so catastrophically wrong that a) summer joins salem, b) there’s a fight, c) gretchen is mortally wounded, d) raven either mercy-kills her or just can’t save her, and e) raven becomes the spring maiden.

ok.

now. if gretchen was the spring maiden, how do we square the circle of “died on a training mission” vs “ran away”?

in V3, qrow talks about having to search for maidens and in V5, ozpin says that one of the reasons he gave the branwens bird forms was to make it easier for them to search for new maidens when the transference of power was “unclear.” gretchen enrolled at beacon “against her brother’s wishes” and hazel holds ozpin responsible for her death; i think she was the spring maiden before she enrolled, raven identified her, and ozpin recruited her personally.

(if only because unknown maidens are mentioned twice in connection with the branwens and that has yet to pay narrative dividends; and it fits quite nicely.)

it does not go well. gretchen gets more freaked out with every new inkling she’s given of the conspiracy and is under intense pressure not to back out or tell anyone on the outside what’s happening. raven, her mentor/handler, sours more and more on the whole situation and eventually decides she’s not going to be a part of it anymore.

she’s not backing down from the fight. she’s not running away. but she’ll give gretchen a way out and make sure no one else can find her, and if that blows up her relationships with the rest of the inner circle, so be it.

so the spring maiden runs away. “abandons” her training, except raven still knows where she is and is still trying to help her figure out the magic because, well, she’s sort of stuck with it until she dies. gretchen can’t go home yet (salem might find her), but she can lay low and focus on mastering this power to defend herself away from the pressure of being one of ozpin’s guardians.

raven refuses to tell anyone where gretchen is. hazel is getting increasingly frantic; either she’s dropped out of contact or her vague, cryptic messages have him worried. nobody at beacon can give him a clear answer.

several years go by. the situation does not improve. somehow or another summer and raven cook up a plan to Fix Everything by taking salem down. it goes horribly wrong. summer joined salem, gretchen is dead, raven is the one left standing with blood on her hands and magic in her soul, after years of obfuscating where the spring maiden went.

what to do?

tell no one about summer. no one would fucking believe her if she told the truth. refuse to answer questions about her bond to summer, no one will think twice about her doing that because it’s what she did when gretchen went missing, too.

tell hazel gretchen is dead. he deserves to know. what happened, and why it happened, but leaving out summer’s involvement. if she’s vague on how and when—if she makes it sound like she was too cowardly to tell anyone that she, perhaps, let gretchen die (“[you saved yang] once. because that was your rule.” <- qrow really believes this)—or couldn’t save her—she can reveal that gretchen is dead without linking her death too obviously to summer’s disappearance.

if ozpin hears that gretchen is dead from hazel—when the infuriated meltdown rampage happens—then he can quietly tap qrow to confirm (by talking to raven) and restrict who knows the truth; hazel’s explosive grieving anger is easy to spin as hysterical paranoia.

and playing gretchen’s death “close to the chest” is a classic ozpin move. after all, learning that gretchen has been dead the whole time will only sow negativity, and the situation doesn’t materially change very much either way; they’re looking for the spring maiden either way, and everyone is aware that gretchen might die before they find her, so they’re already keeping an eye out for unknowns. qrow knows the truth, but he’s not about to spill the beans to anyone without ozpin’s say so.

and summer’s the one who suggests recruiting hazel to salem, because it’s her fault gretchen is dead but she can at least bring hazel into the fight to tear down the system that led her there. (“you’ve never wondered why she recruited you? you, specifically, to help her find the relics?” <- a narratively interesting line of attack in that it explicitly puts this question in front of the audience, follows up with an unequivocal confirmation that salem sought hazel out very deliberately, and follows that with ozpin’s overtly manipulative and unsatisfying answer of “because hazel is easy to manipulate.” lots of people are easy to manipulate. why choose hazel? how did she even know about Just Some Guy who lost his sister?)

like

all it really requires to tie everything together around the discrepancies is for ozpin (a liar) and raven (a matryoshka doll of secrets she refuses to talk about) to be, er, lying and keeping secrets. and narratively gretchen being the spring maiden just makes sense, to almost the same degree that summer joining salem just makes sense. it’s intuitive. it fills in gaps the narrative quietly circled in V8. it tracks with gretchen being so important in the same volume that makes a huge thing of how no one knows what salem is really after. no more gretchens; so you’ve decided against vengeance for your sister, after all this time?; in pursuit of a new world.

but yeah like. it’s fun because hazel is so malleable and so good at pretzeling his thinking that he could conceivably have been told the truth—summer killed gretchen—and still been talked around to aiming all of his fury and vengeance at ozpin because 1. ozpin is the reason gretchen got pulled into this mess, and 2. gretchen died in the crossfires of a fight that broke out when summer learned the truth (that the war was one-sided paranoia), and 3. for salem and summer the point of this war is to end the paranoid conspiracy so nothing like this can happen again. but my god, the tension between him and summer could probably cut glass.