#the man deserves redemption

[arthursfuckinghat]

Arthur Morgan is the kind of man to save you from harm only to look at you with his sorrow-ridden eyes and tell you how much of a bad man he is when you thank him

[lelelego]

true canon ending to rdr2

commission for @neonxdecay / @por-queeee!!

[taolaoo]

I'm absolutely not okay about Arthur Morgan. This man has dedicated his entire life to other people in a desperate attempt to be needed. To be useful.

Because he didn't know any better. Because his form of love is giving. Doing what he was told.

He never even considered otherwise. It was always people that came first in his priority. His family.

And the moment he finally gets a chance to think about himself, about what he wants to do, he dies.

I'm absolutely not okay with that.

[ominous-horse-noises]

not done talking ab fhjy actually so i'll just say some of you guys who go on about how you could've done better themes and narrative arcs can't even think critically about the one in front of you.

i do wish that the other bad kids had interacted with their foils more this season because it was fun seeing them trade insults, but i also dont think it would've done much for them. i mean, people forget the tbks did try to turn reuben early on (they literally saved him from grix even though it was his fault he showed up trying to kill people). adaine thought oisin was cool and tbks were onboard with thinking maybe he wasn't that bad, and then he sent his grandma to murder them and their entire school. fabian tried to get an 'in' with ivy and it nearly cost him a genuine relationship with a character who had a way better chance of helping them figure things out without the risk of being betrayed. kipperlilly had an ego-driven hateboner for riz since BEFORE the rage stars and killed her own party member in cold blood just to stick it to kristen, and you're telling me that she could've been my little ponyied into giving up her chance to squash the symbol of all her inadequacy? buddy and maryann are the only rat grinders who havent fucked them over meaningfully and guess what? they're not thrilled about having to kill them- they're actively avoiding targeting them! almost like theyre capable of distinguishing between someone not on their side and someone who's proved to be a threat!

brennan made it pretty clear that trying to befriend trgs in their rage forms was futile and actively punished it ingame. you can have your opinions of that, but it definitely had a narrative point: if you get rage starred, you cant be 'this isnt youuuu'd out of it. you think ONLY of rage, and rage can't be reasoned with. it's arguably worse than death, bc at least someone can revivify you and there's no lasting consequences. think about how hard brennan was trying to push the ihs into taking rage tokens. he knew exactly how dire he'd made the consequences and that was on purpose. the season has no stakes if you can just talk your way out of being rage starred bc tbks could save each other easily. the whole climax literally can't happen if trgs arent being evil bc porter can't be a living god of rage without followers. tbks hating trgs isnt a flaw in the story: it IS the story.

[hawkogurl]

[jaekyungsrustyattitude]

Every now and then I remember there are people who believe Endeavor deserves/deserved his redemption/atonement arc, but Bakugou doesn’t and I just….

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

not spop-related but i can't post this on my main blog so.

i do find it funny how most of the fan depictions of belos were far more interesting and detailed than s3 belos. i've seen fanart and fanfics of him where he's a complex villain struggling with religious guilt and then the canon is just like.. lmao yeah he's pure evil. kill him.

[cedarsmoke4]

God’s perfect killing machine has the most luscious lips known to man

[pinkysberg]

"i don't like abigail x john bc they're toxic and she yells at him" u fool. uve missed the entire point! that they're imperfect and john DESERVES TO BE YELLED AT

[arthursfuckinghat]

You know, whenever I see the discussions around Jack Marston possibly getting drafted in world war one, I can't help but physically ache at the thought of it.

Jack Marston, born into a gang that honoured freedom above everything, forced to sacrifice everything he has left for war.

Jack Marston, a boy who read about knights and soldiers, now forced to become one in another fight he never asked for.

Jack Marston, raised to be away from a life of violence, but now the world has found a way to drag him back in.

No matter what happens, Jack would have to face a really tragic dilemma. Does he go to war and sacrifice the legacy of freedom he was raised with? The life his family died for? Or refuse and be labeled a criminal, putting his parents to shame and repeating the same cycle his father went through?

It just tragically mirrors the struggle he’s always had - trying to find his own identity outside the legacy of John Marston, and the violence that came with it. But he's being pulled back in, no matter what he chooses.

He was never made for the violence that shaped his parents' life.

[freyjaofredemption]

It’s just me, myself, and my unhealthy obsession with jumping through timelines and alternate realities to try save a fictional, depressed gunslinger from himself, his adoptive father figure who betrayed him entirely, and his sure-death case of tuberculosis, because I think his worth was completely taken for granted by those around him, and he deserved to be loved not only for the man he was but for the man he’d surely become if treated with the same unconditional love and loyalty he gave to everybody around him. Despite the chaos he has caused in the eyes of the law, I definitely could fix him.

[zeb-z]

missa, after his self resentment and lamenting about how he doesn’t feel worthy or like he should be accepted, after telling himself and the capybaras that he doesn’t have a home, not really - after all is said and done, he returns to phil & missa, leaving his mini mi in the house on the wall. as if he’d consider anywhere other than the house he shared with phil safe enough. seeking out safety and home brought him right back where he started.

something about how despite his internal conflicts and issues about what he thinks he deserves, he’ll still come back. and for all he worries that he is not enough to be loved in return, his name is still on the warp stone.

[galaxythreads]

i'm locking everyone who writes about abusive parents and their kids (regardless of age) in a room until they can write a storyline that ends without

the abuse being explained away or not "actually having been abuse, they were trying to protect you or insert bs excuse here"

the abusive parent child reconciling

the child is somehow at fault for not having considered their parents emotions and catering to them. yknow. as a child.

"they just couldn't reach out to you the way you needed :( sorry. He'll do better now! it actually had nothing to do with you and all the years of your life you felt ignored and belittled actually all had to do with him, and better forgive and forget!

the child having to make up because their kids "deserve to have grandparents" (not these grandparents)

emotional abuse/neglect being treated as a lesser form of abuse because it didn't leave physical wounds

moms are somehow less accountable for abuse because she's a girl and all moms are magical beings who can't be abusive somehow. (this is false)

[illegiblehandwriting1]

frankly i think the best way to differentiate fanon sky and canon sky is to take a look at groose's redemption arc. both forgive him for the bullying but fanon sky says "he didn't mean it!" Canon sky says "i deserved it"

(for reference, canon sky is sky as shown in the game/inferred directly from sksw)

[agoldengalaxy]

Rest Now, Dear Boy

read on Ao3

words: 2195

Hosea reflects on Arthur beginning to trust him and Dutch as a teenager as he watches him harbor the same fondness towards Lenny. Later, he wonders where it all went wrong.

--

1877, Spring

Hosea sat on a log, watching the embers from the campfire as they slowly rose toward the starry sky. He wasn’t sure how late it was, but he wouldn’t even think about sleep yet. It was hard not to worry when Dutch insisted on scoping this new area out on his own, but once he got the idea in his head, he couldn’t be dissuaded. It was something Hosea both loved and hated about him.

His gaze slid to his left, where Arthur sat beside him, a thin blanket pulled around his shoulders. His half-lidded eyes blinked slowly at the fire that illuminated his tired, young face. Despite it all, despite their situation, Hosea and Dutch tried their hardest to give a fourteen-year-old everything he could need, including enough rest, and it was definitely past the time he usually went to sleep. Hosea smiled as he took in the boy. “You ought to go to bed, Arthur. It’s late.”

“No,” he mumbled, managing to lift his gaze to Hosea for a moment before returning it to the fire. “Wanna wait ‘till Dutch gets back.”

They’d found him a little over a year ago, and he was stubborn, perhaps just as much as Dutch. They seemed to get along well for that reason, and Hosea found it incredibly endearing. He never would have pegged Dutch as being a good father figure, but he’d done very well. They both had, considering how loyal Arthur had become after their very rough start.

Figuring this wasn’t a battle worth having, he simply shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Quiet cricket chirps and gentle crackling flames filled the quiet that followed as Hosea turned his gaze up to the star-filled sky. It had to be the middle of the night, perhaps even later, and Dutch had left hours ago. Hosea worried, just as he always did, but Dutch always had a plan. He’d find a way to come back to him.

Noticing movement out of the corner of his eye, Hosea blinked out of his thoughts, watching Arthur’s head slowly dip downward - the poor boy was falling asleep sitting up straight. Without thinking, Hosea reached up, gently cradling Arthur’s head to guide it toward his shoulder. If he was awake, he didn’t fight it, and instead seemed content by the situation. Hosea held his head for a moment, sandy hair beneath his fingers, craning his neck to get a better look. Arthur’s face was completely slack, his mouth slightly open, the firelight dancing across his cheekbones.

Hosea’s heart burst full of warmth as he gently let go of the boy’s head to instead sling an arm around his shoulders for extra support. It had taken months to earn Arthur’s trust, and every day he was proving that they had earned it. Hosea felt special, like he was chosen, like he was really his father. He wanted to live in this moment for as long as he could.

Arthur felt warm against him, and despite his worry about Dutch, Hosea could feel a strong sense of peace wash over him.

He didn’t quite know how much time had passed until he heard quiet footsteps in the grass. He knew those footsteps well enough that he didn’t have to turn around or be on edge. Dutch approached the fire, placing a few fish beside it, and turned around to face them both. He seemed surprised at the sight before him, but said what he needed to say quietly and with a fond smile.

“There’s a small town nearby, not a lot of folks, but they seem nice enough. Stole a watch we can pawn off in the morning.” Dutch’s gaze drifted toward Arthur’s sleeping frame. “…What’s this about?”

Hosea smiled. “He wanted to wait up for you to get back.”

Blinking, Dutch approached them cautiously, sweeping some hair from Arthur’s eyes in a way that was so gentle it made Hosea’s heart flutter. “He’ll make a fine man someday,” he murmured proudly, and Hosea couldn’t help but agree. 

Carefully, Dutch placed his hands around Arthur; one on his back, one underneath him, and lifted him carefully. With his head against Dutch’s chest, Arthur blinked sleepily up at him. “Dutch…?”

“It’s okay, son. You’re safe, go back to sleep.”

With some wonder, Hosea watched as the words seemingly put Arthur under a spell, making him close his eyes again almost right away. Dutch knelt down beside the bedroll and slowly lowered Arthur into it, careful not to jostle him too much. Once he was laying there comfortably, Dutch pulled the blankets over him, sweeping hair out of his eyes once again.

Hosea walked over to kneel beside Dutch, and together they watched their boy for a moment. He looked so young like this. They knew they would miss it some day, but they also looked forward to the future, turning him into a man like them.

Perhaps they were selfish, to take a boy and turn him into an outlaw, give him a life of danger. But his life before had been even worse. They couldn’t give him the life he deserved, but they could at least give him as good a life as they could manage.

Dutch placed an arm around Hosea’s shoulders. Everything seemed right.

“Good night, dear boy.”

***

Spring, 1899

Horseshoe Overlook still bustled after a few hours with much quieter, drunken celebration. With Sean’s return, everyone’s spirits had been considerably lifted, and for one night, nobody was thinking about Blackwater. For one night, everyone was happy.

Javier’s sweet voice carried on a soft breeze, filling Hosea with a sense of peace as he sat on a nearby picnic table to watch the scene in front of him without being a part of it. Much of the gang had already gone to sleep, leaving just a few left by the campfire. Arthur, Charles, Lenny, Micah, Bill, and Javier all sat in a small circle with variations of bottles and cigarettes in hand. 

For a moment, Hosea’s unease, which had been consistently fluctuating since a little before Blackwater, washed over him again. They needed a good, solid plan, but Dutch didn’t have one, no matter what he said. Hosea figured he was still pretty rattled from their losses, and he wanted to check on him, but Dutch often waved him away. It was something he always struggled with. He never wanted to talk about himself when he had all of these people to look after. Hosea admired it about him, but he also truly worried about him.

The unease slowly dissipated as applause filled the air, replacing the song that had just ended. Bill began praising Javier, but Hosea’s attention was completely on Arthur now, noticing a difference from a few moments before.

His expression was somewhat uncomfortable, his body stiff, and the reason was obvious. Lenny, perhaps at some point during the song, had leaned himself against Arthur’s arm, no doubt the alcohol running through his body making him unable to fight off the sleep that came for him. For a moment, Hosea considered walking over there to help Arthur out, wake the poor boy so he could go to bed, but when no one else was looking, Arthur slung an arm around Lenny’s shoulders, supporting his smaller frame against him. 

As the fire flickered, Hosea could have sworn he saw a smile on Arthur’s face. Just as quickly as he saw it, it was wiped away as Micah, Bill, and Javier stood up, the former scoffing at the sight. “Look at’chu, Morgan. I knew you was gettin’ soft. And for Lenny? Here, I’ll shove him off for you, since I’m such a nice feller -”

“Hands off, Micah,” Arthur hissed, which stopped the man in his tracks. Bill and Javier exchanged a surprised look. Charles attempted to suppress a smile. “He ain’t goin’ nowhere. It’s your own fault he don’t like you.”

Micah grinned, chuckling as he threw his hands up in a dramatized surrender motion. “Oooh, feelin’ feisty tonight. Don’t you scare the boy off, now, Morgan, he may throw up on your boots.”

Javier whistled, and Bill nudged his shoulder, grinning. “If any feller fell asleep on Micah, he wouldn’t wake up in the mornin’.”

From where he sat on the other side of Arthur, Charles rolled his eyes. “Would you just drop it? Go to bed, all of you. You’re drunk.”

“‘M not gonna do anything you say -” Micah slurred, pointing a heavy finger in Charles’ direction, but the other two exchanged another look. There wasn’t going to be a fight, not during a party, not even during the last hours of it.

Javier nudged Micah forward. “C’mon, amigo , we’ll play some poker tomorrow.” Bill followed.

Quiet fell. Hosea watched the three men make their way to their tents, then slid his gaze back to the remaining three. Their voices were much quieter now, but he could still hear some of it.

“Thank you, Charles.” Arthur sounded tired as he carefully removed Lenny’s hat, setting it down on the log beside him.

“Any time.” 

Hosea smiled to himself, his heart bursting the same way it had that night all those years ago. He and Dutch had raised this boy the best they could - they hadn’t given him a great life, but they’d given him as good a life as they could manage. More than anything, Hosea loved seeing how big his heart had become, how much he was opening it to others; Lenny, like Hosea did for Arthur all that time ago, and Charles, perhaps in the unspoken way Hosea and Dutch cared for each other.

The jingle of spurs filled the silence that followed, and although he knew who it was, Hosea still looked over his shoulder at the man, not bothering to hide the fact that he was still smiling, unable to hold in the fondness he was feeling. Dutch, raising a brow, stopped just before the table. “Haven’t seen your eyes sparkle like that in a while, Mr. Matthews. What’s goin’ on?”

Hosea chuckled, the formality of it still so endearing as he turned his gaze toward the three men still left by the campfire. “Just…feelin’ proud of our boy, is all.”

Quietly, Dutch slid in to sit next to Hosea on the bench, following his gaze. Charles and Arthur still spoke to each other quietly while Lenny slept away, no doubt comforted by the closeness of his companions. Dutch smiled, wordlessly placing an arm around Hosea’s shoulder, confident of the darkness of night that shrouded them from prying eyes.

Hosea leaned his head against Dutch’s shoulder, and everything was right with the world.

[donnieisaprettyboy]

heartbreaking that people only seem to like my posts that talk about issues in the queer community. don’t y’all just wanna see me thirst over arthur morgan sometimes? 😔