#sick of the inacuracies

[sweetflanfiction]

Second Chances

Universe: Read Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur x reader

Disclaimers and Warnings: *spoilers* My BF just finished the game and we couldn't bear Arthur moving on, so...I had to shift the plot a bit ahahaha... Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about 1899 is from google, so inacuracies will be plenty. The reader is on the older side, and identifies as a female.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

• ··········· • ············ •

You found him lying, unconscious, near the entrance of a shallow cave after chasing a runaway horse. Mac, your shepherd dog, kept barking and you thought it was the stalion that scared him, surprised to find a full grown man lying half dead on the rocks.

You got off your own horse and approached the man, rifle in hand and eyes darting back and forth, waiting for an ambush. He wasn't moving, his face wore a peaceful expression with his eyes closed. Faded bruises matted his face. The only thing telling you he was alive was his chest slowly moving.

Shushing Mac you poked the man with your boot, waiting for any movement or for him to open his eyes.

"Hey buddy?" You ask, shaking his leg with your foot. Nothing. "You need help or...?"

Taking a deep breath you shook your head and went back to your black horse, Dusk. You were about to mount up, your foot already on the stirrup, when you heard a groan and a cough.

"I...." You turned at the sound. His eyes were still closed. "...dead?"

Mac ran to the man and whined near him as you grabbed the water canteen from the saddle bag. You took three big steps to kneel next to him.

"Not yet, friend..." You poured a bit of water on his dried lips and he opened his mouth to drink some of it.

"Sick..." He coughed and you nodded. 

"You want the doc?" You asked, moving his hair out of his forehead.

"He always had a plan..." He coughed again and turned limp.

Touching his neck, you could feel the faint rhythm of a heartbeat. You were torn between leaving here and taking him with you. He seemed sick and told you as much, but you couldn't leave a living being alone in this place, not with the night falling. You rubbed your forehead under your hat and groaned. 

It wasn't easy making a makeshift stretcher, but you managed to do a decent job with the scarce resources around you. Looking at the man, he coughed softly and you grabbed your bandanna, wrapped it around your mouth and nose and walked closer to him. You started by grabbing his shoulders and dragging him to the improvised bed. He sure was heavy, taking a few minutes to get him on the stretcher and secure him. By the end you were sweating, breathing heavily, while the big man lay unconscious.

"I'm sorry mister, but I can't leave you here to die." You finally said apologetic and patted his shoulder, before mounting up and clicking your tongue making Dusk walk towards the ranch.

• ··········· • ············ •

His dreams were filled with forest creatures and voices, some familiar and some brand new. In his mind, he was already dead to the world and did not really care about much of anything. He found peace in the end. His deer friend was walking around him, closer than ever, so close he could almost touch the creature. A small bark scared the magical creature and the cowboy cursed. 

• ··········· • ············ •

"Mac!" You hissed at the black and white dog who tilted his snout at his name being called. "Come on!"

The small animal happily walked out of the guest room, following you downstairs where you could hear two voices talking amicably. You turned the corner and walked into the parlor, smiling at the two men sitting there. 

"Ah! Miss Graham. I was just telling your father that your guest seemed to have been the victim of a crime." Doc Brant smiled back at you. He was a tall and slender fellow, his thin face adorned with a curled mustache and small round glasses pinched on his nose. He was a friendly fellow, with a strange sense of humor, but no malice behind it. 

"Really?" You scrunched up your face as you sat on the arm of your father's armchair, Mac finding his spot next to you, lying at your feet.

"Seems to have been the victim of an attempted drowning." He chuckled when he saw your eyes grow wide. "I'm just joking. His lungs seem to have a bit of trouble working. I can hear slight fuzzyness in his breathing and he seems to be fighting a fever..."

"Fuzziness in the lungs....TB?" Your father said between puffs of his cigarette.

His voice echoed fear. He was always scared of it, since your mom had passed from it. He was the opposite of the doctor. Big, brawny, tough farmer, manly man. His face held his years well and his cheeks were always rosy from the sun. He sat comfortably in his arm chair, one hand stroking the large greyhound beside the chair.

The doc tilted his head, his eyebrows raising a bit on his forehead as if thinking about something. His expression changed after a while and he shook his head in a convincing manner.

"Nah. If anything he seems to be coming out of a big round of the flu." He finished the glass of water he had in his hand and placed it on the table. "He might have been food for the coyotes if you hadn't picked him up."

"Well, if there's one thing Miss Graham over here is proficient at, it is picking strays." He joked, patting your leg.

"I don't remember you complaining before. 'Sides, every stray and get seems to help us up to this point." You smiled and fetch the glass. "Is there anything we can give the man to make him comfortable?" 

"I'll get Mrs. Brant to make you some medicine today and you can pick it up tomorrow evening. Until then...just help him fight the fever with some cold water to his forehead and wrist. If it spikes too much, throw him into a tub filled with cold water. Also, he seemed dehydrated because of the fever and his previous address, so get him some water and some food that is watery."

You and your father nodded at the instructions. Your father pushed himself out of the armchair to walk the doc outside, while you headed to the kitchen, hearing Mac following behind you.

Mac was one of the many strays you brought back home. Your father always joked that you were a magnet for creatures in need. Cats, dogs, deer, horses, birds and now people seem to appear on your path when they need help. The dog at your feet limped towards you one day when you went to the general store in town. He was whining, his tail between his legs and could not, for the life of you, leave the pup there. The other dog, Luca, a big lanky hound that never left your father's side, wandered into the ranch one night, his ear half bitten off and his left eye blind.

"You reckon he's gonna survive?" You heard your father come inside the kitchen and sit at the table. 

"Hope so..." You said honestly and turned to him, leaning your back against the simple kitchen counter. "You think his people left him to die on the rocks?"

"You said he was peaceful, so maybe he wanted to die there." You made a face at his words.

"I don't get why people quit fighting to live. According to the doc he had a flu. I had the flu, it ain't nothing to write home about..."

"You're lucky. Your momma was watching you up there." He pointed to the sky. "People die from the flu, you know that. Especially if they don't get treated. And he didn't seem to have any money on him. Maybe his people had left him there for their own sake." 

"I know..." You sighed and grabbed a pot. "Chicken soup for dinner?"

You heard your father chuckle and stand.

"I'll get the eggs. Come on boys." He whistled to the dogs and both pets ran outside.

• ··········· • ············ •

The deer kept circling him, but every time he got close it ran away. He saw it lying down in a patchy grass meadow and walked determinedly towards it. The deer meant peace, a quiet death he didn't deserve, but craved. He deserved to die in a ball of fire for all the crap he had pulled, for all the shit he had endured.

Maybe that's why it ran. Because it knew he didn't deserve peace and quiet.

"I have a plan Arthur." He turned to the familiar voice, half in anger, half in fear.

• ··········· • ············ •

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfiction #ao3 #fanfiction

[esta-elavaris]

Hello! Same anon as yesterday for Catch the Wind - I just wanted to add that I really love that you research things! It is so nice to see that you don't just use stereotypes of the genre. It is very refreshing as someone who takes interest in historical things! And it shows through but you don't write down all the research so it's not becoming a history book (which I personally would still read lol) but it shines through. And of course there are bound to be inacuracies because they come from the very movies themselves BUT that is ok because everything else is so well done that it just neatly sits there. Suspense of disbelief and all that I mean magic and Achtland and Jones exist soo. It doesn't HAVE to be 100% accurate but it has a very good foundation in historical stuff! (Also I am by far not an expert of anything history but still)

So thank you for not only creating and writing these characters so well but also for putting them in an invironment that I thoroughly enjoy!

Oh and. And thank you that Theo doesn't fall into the "I'm not like other girls" trope! She is strong and independent but also she doesn't have to complain about the dresses all the time in order to be so. Or the corset trope.

I just love your story so much!!

Honestly it was always kinda funny when I ended up having to do historical deep dives for the sake of literally one throwaway sentence, which was why I usually ended up putting full explanations in my notes - not just as a way of being like "I do know what I'm doing sometimes lol" but because if I could put two or three paragraphs rambling about it at the end, I didn't feel like I'd just spent an hour digging into the next best historical alternative to a coffee table would be.

Thank you! 💜 I'm glad you enjoyed it! Avoiding the whole "not like other girls" thing was really important to me, not just because it's a gross trap to fall into. Literally the first thing I decided going into the story was that Theo and Elizabeth had to be friends, I really didn't want to make more of a thing than was wholly necessary of "boo hiss she's my competition, she's evil" especially as Elizabeth didn't return Norrington's feelings, so like? If she was a rival at all, she didn't even want to be, really? The idea of her always being at odds with the only really super prominent female character from the thing left a bad taste in my mouth. Also because it could just get so exhausting so quickly.

And it just felt so much more real and uh? More mature? I guess? For her to not mind the gowns and the dressing up for social occasions, rather than going down some weird route where she whines about the whole thing the way some 14 y/o emo kids pretend that the sight of pink makes them physically sick. Like she's a bit of a tomboy, but I never saw her as not being comfortable in her femininity either.

Like, if by the time the real drama and hardship hits, Theo has already spent 50k words by that time whining and complaining about having to wear skirts, basic gender rules of the time (deservedly or not, in that case), and crop tops being out of the question, the high-stakes hardship doesn't feel weighty, it just feels like yet another thing for her to complain about? I think she's a pretty pragmatic character, she can mostly roll with the punches, she's not going to choose something like skirts or corsets as her hill to die on, even if she finds them impractical at times. Plus I think she'd recognise that she was pretty lucky with James in that respect, because he's not really a "women should be seen and not heard" type of lad.

Plus, I know it was an actual plot point of the first movie and all, so I can mostly wave it away because of that, but the whole corset thing is one of the few things I do not like about the first one and the whole "you like pain? try wearing a corset!" line always makes me cringe 💀

But yeah, the movies having little slips like that really helped because it kinda gave me permission to play around with things a bit more than I could if it was 100% historically sound. Like you said, inaccuracies absolutely slipped through (some I was aware of, undoubtedly some that I wasn't, too), but I tried to approach it from a standpoint of like, if the majority of it was historically sound and reasonable enough, people would be more willing to suspend disbelief where it mattered because the rest felt believable.

I am so sorry for this beast of an answer 💀

#dissertation!lucy strikes again #asks #anon #ctw #james/theodora

[mari-lair]

Norray halloween week Day 1: Ghosts!

If curious, below are some random info about this Teacher/ghost AU

Ray got a gun and he can use it. The ghost gun isn’t able to touch, much less physically hurt anyone, but it replicate the sound of a real gun, which contributed a lot to how low priced his haunted house rent has become. It nearly gave Norman a heart attack the first time he heard it.

After being dead for a while, Ray learned how to turn visible and invisible at will and play around small objects such as paper, shoes and butcher knives. He can control up to 4 small objects at a time or something relativaly heavy like a chair if he really concentrate. The more he got the hang of controling and moving small objects the lower his house rent become, rarely getting aggressive but still able to physically hurt people. On All Hallows Eve he can posses people’s bodies and get out of the house he haunts, but he always ends up back to his empty ‘home’ when the night is over.

Ray is an incredibly fast learner. Just by observing the people that visits his house, he learned a decent amount of modern english and understand the basics of how tecnology is a  thing now -he wished this advanced tecnology was invented when he was alive. It would make the of lack of food and nutrients less of a deadly nightmare in open sea.

As a pirate, Ray used to be the one in charge of doing most of the bloody work and take the night watch, protecting his captain’s back from both outside and inside forces. He was constantly alert, borderline paranoic. But as the years in death passed, he grew more calm, very patient. He usually don’t mind new people in his house, happy to learn more modern english and befriend the guests willing to tolerate him. If a new guest cross a line however,  Ray will do his best to scare them away. Hurt them or kill them by manipulating knives if he sees fit.

It’s very rare for adults to see Ray as anything other than a nonsense they have no energy to deal with or a warning sign for their crumbling lives, so he usually hang around kids. The childish company mellows him with time.

Ray is from a time where death was common and getting hurt was inevitable so what people consider pretty serious is something Ray considers mild “Why are you being so dramatic about seeing some bone? Be grateful your hand is still attached to your wrist after you slaped your daughter. If it wasn’t for her wishes you wouldn’t have legs to run away.”

Norman is considered a genius and have countless prizes under his belt. He wanted to go to the moon when he was a kid but because of his weak health, he knew he would not be acepted in the space program. He decided teaching was the next best thing later on, accepted as a teacher in a prestigious school while still young. He enjoys and understand all subjects but love history the most, unable to deny it was hard and frustrating to teach a whole class of teens at times but still liking his job. Having one student that was genuinaly interested in his class was more than enough to make his day.

When Norman first started teaching, he felt more responsable than he had his whole life. It wasn’t a bad feeling per see, but it made him anxious so he called his little sister Cherry once a week to ask her questions about her teachers and make sure he was doing a good job.

Norman may not be the funniest of teacher but he’s still a favorite for his palpable cares for his students. He does not make the subject easier than is requested but he put a lot of effort into making people enjoy their world history, teaching with passion and seriously answering any questions, no matter how silly or joking it sounds. He’s understanding and try his best to help those with dificulty with the subject, always giving people second chances, having lost countless nights of sleep correcting re-writen essays after deadlines and turning his test questions into podcasts for students with adhd, aware the big historical excerpts are fundamental for answering the test but too hard to focus, specially with limited time.

The lambda crew are problem children. Norman went the extra mile to save Barbara and Zazie from failing classes even outside history and left Vincent startruck with his wide knowladge about not only world history but a ton of subjects he could be teaching too if he wasn’t overworking himself. Norman is both happy to inspire the squad to study hard and also very awkward by their blind admiration.

The teacher had a firm “ghost don’t exist”  mentality, which is one of the reasons he brought the haunted house in the first place. He had chalked Ray up as an halucination from his sleep deprived brain, having the rotten luck of buying the house right after a bad guest owned. The ghost got more annoyed than usual from things as insignificant as Norman keeping the lights on for too long, putting music Ray doesn’t vibe with, or just acting unfairly cute, to more personal matters such as Norman studying about Ray and his family lives. They used to have a distant and bad relationship but once Ray noticed Norman had only admiration for history, being genuinaly kind when trying to talk instead of mocking his existence, Ray apologised. Norman was still wary at first but they quickly hit off, enjoying to learn what the other had to offer and matching in wits.

When Norman catch a fever or a bad cold Ray gets wary. He know, on some level, that medicine have evolved a lot, but he remenbers way too clearly how serious even the weakest of diseases could get if not imediatly treated.  He always stick by Norman’s side when the teacher sneezes, not taking his eyes off him. Usually Norman keep working when he catch a cold, so Ray learned to float Norman’s grading papers out of his reach when coughing joined his sneezes. Floating a paper is enough to get Norman to take a break most of the time, but if the get stubborn Ray will stop playing nice. Just lower his voice to comander mode and order “Rest. Now. Or I’ll make your life a living hell.” and Norman does what he’s told, it’s very unconfortable to have a gun in the face and he does feel very tired.

When Norman is seriously sick, not just coughing but stuck to his bed. Ray freak out and fear for his life. When it reached this level, most of his crewmates died or had to be thrown in the sea to not infect other. Yes Ray know it’s not as bad anymore, but even when he observed guests, they rarely got sick, and when it got bad they where taken to a doctor. Norman lives alone so he got no one to feed him and bring him blankets or take him to the doctor if he lies for hours in bed. Ray was all the help he would get and he is fucking dead, he can’t measure his temperature or take care of him properly. Ray does tries his best though. He concentrated a lot to float heavy blankets and pillows towards Norman. Imediatly fetching any pills asked of him and doing his best to make him tea. It isn’t tasty, but Norman still appreciates his care.

Ray is the first to fall in love, he think “If only I could  kiss this fool and hug him, I would do it on the daily. I wish he was alive back then... He would love meeting Emma...” at least once a week but a big part of him is just “Forget scurvy! Norman would die of cold or malnutricion before he reached 10. Thank god the helpless bastard took his sweet time to be born.”

Ray cannot touch any eletronics, he can’t even come close without phones, computers, and tvs turning to statics, so Norman buys an illustrated book about the Red Mane Pirates for Ray to see his crew again. He know is not perfect but is the best he can offer whenever Ray expresses missing his family.

They read together. Norman occasionally teaching a new word to his ghost and Ray correcting any historical inacuracy. It’s fun.

Norman finds an illustration of an alive Ray sleeping in the mast waaay too beautiful. Ray snort at the romantized draw, disolving into laughter by how Norman failed to hide his blush.

It became a habit to read history books together and tease each other. More often then not, it lead to a history class and way to much sass on both ends.

“Wait, so there really was a world war? I heard about it from old guests but I thought they were exagerating when they called world war! And what do you mean 2? There was a second one??”

“How did miss the second one? It was HUGE, quite horribl-”

“You were not even alive when it happened.”                                        

“Tecnically, you weren’t either Ray-” 

Ray is a bit scared of how attached he got to Norman, knowing eventually the man would die. He hopes it will take a long time, and that once he had a painless death, he will become a ghost too, but he doesn’t really believe Norman will ever turn into a ghost. Ray knows not everyone that dies became a ghost. Since someone as compassionable as Emma -even if she was forced to have blood and dirty choises on her hand to survive the merciless seas- was not cursed to became a ghost, he was confident someone as kind as Norman would dissapear from Ray’s afterlife once he died too.

More of this AU here

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And since you reached the end of this text wall. You can have this bonus Norman being awkward/excited about their growing friendship.

#norray #the promised neverland #tpn norman #tpn ray #norray week #norrayweek #i still can't draw adult BUT THERE WAS AN ATTEMPT #i don't know much about history so guyhiluojikço #NORMAN SLEEPING POSE WAS SO HARD TO DRAW HOLY SHI- #but i love this au #yiouhoji freaking ship week anxiety tho

[king-george-iii-simp]

charles lee x reader

time: hamil-time

short summary: so, basically, it's not like last time AND no one dies. you're one of the best nurses at camp, and every other doctor is busy, when charles lee gets shot, you help him, and he's extremely grateful, except, your stories don't end there. i apologize for any medical inacuracies, but they obviously weren't the most hygienic and we need him to live.

warnings: slight blood, kinda gore, n medical stuff. but nothing too gross.

--

"Nurse y/n! General Lee got into a duel and he is injured." Aaron Burr said, while running inside the medical tent. He held a young man that didn't look good, at all.

"Get him a bed. do you mind handing me that kit?" I asked, in a firm voice. He laid him down on one of the medical kits, putting on clean gloves you grabbed scissors and cut away at any excess fabric around the wound.

After a while of frantic stitching, the wound was patched. to be safe, you ran a small towel dipped in an antiseptic on the stitches, he whimpered slightly, as the patch would still be painful. Aaron thanked you, as lee began looking better. With a better, more flushed, complexion, and wasn't as weak as before.

For a few days, he was your top priority. it might've been a little annoying to him, (even if he never showed it), was constant questioning. Asking whether he felt better, or worse. Luckily for him, he got the best food that was offered there, which wasn't very good, but it was a step above normal food.

He seemed quite- attached to you. He'd brush off questions, or sometimes just ignore questions from other medical personnel. However, you got this often. You weren't the ugliest nurse, but it seemed as if lee brought it to a extreme degree.

Sending him home, he acted like a young child, quite angry, and pouty.

He obviously liked you, but he was different from other, woozy, bloody men. He respected you. And with a war, there's little time to respect women, or people in general. However, it's improper to be romantically involved with a patient. And it was time to bury the feelings you felt around him.

--

It was normal day, and shopping was pilling up. So it was time to go outside for the first time in quite a while, luckily, it was a nice day. The farmers market wasn't quite busy. it would definitely be worse on a Friday. You picked up pretty much everything you'd need for a while, but before you could leave, you heard.

"y/n?" Someone shouted behind you, probably thinking it was a family friend, you turned around. "Charles?" You asked, softly. "Yeah, I don't want to hold you up, or anything, but, I'd just like to thank you for saving my life. I don't know if I woulda lived without you." He panted.

"It is my job, but thank you. Say, what are you doing here today?" I smiled at him. "Just for a bit of stuff. My mom is sick n' stuff, so I told her I would do it for her." He explained. "Is she being taken care of? what does she have?" I asked. "Yeah, she is. She's getting better. Just weak n' stuff. That's all." He told me.

I nodded at him. "But, y'know, if you'd like to get a drink sometime, we can plan." He continued. "That seems nice, but, I need to go. The sun is setting." I explained to him. "I-I'll walk you." He blurted out. I chuckled slightly. "Sure, why not." I smiled.

#charles lee fanfiction #charles lee x reader #hamilton fanfic #hamilton #hamilton one shot #hamilton x reader

[sweetflanfiction]

Second Chances - Part 7

Universe: Read Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur x reader

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about 1899 is from google, so inacuracies will be plenty. The reader is on the older side, and identifies as a female. Header Gif by @miyku

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

• ··········· • ············ •

Arthur grabbed the brush for the horse looking at the woman walking away, followed by the pup, Mac. He let his gaze linger for a moment watching her play with the dog.

They were not keeping him here, there were no shackles, nothing held him down, there seemed to be no second intentions towards him. Both were honest: You work and stay, or you go.

He walked over to the horse, stroking the soft fur, and started on his task of brushing him.

“Darling?” He whispered under his breath. A humourless chuckle escaped him and the horse whined. “Yeah, I don’t like that one either, friend. But if I name you, you're mine and if you're mine you gotta behave. Do what I tell you and all that. ‘Cause I can get you better, I can make you stronger, but you gotta trust me alright?”

The horse snorted, raising his front hooves and kicking the dirt. The cowboy took it as a yes.

“Alright boy. Let's see. When we was at St. Dennis, I read a newspaper article about this young feller who was doing magic tricks, escaping handcuffs and all sorts of contraptions. How 'bout I name you after him, since you’re so keen on escaping huh? It’s much better than ‘Darling’ I tell you that much.” 

The horse blew air through his nose and moved his head gently while the moved through his fur.

“Alright then, boy. I name you Houdini. How about that?”

Arthur chuckled at the horse and brushed him. Thinking of St. Dennis made him think of the Brants' conversation. He had tried to keep relaxed when the word ‘job’ came up. Trying not to show his inquisitiveness. It placed some shadow of doubt on this whole ‘good and trusting’ issue. However, until this point they had done nothing to make him distrust them so he would wait.

“My dear daughter told me you was gonna be responsible for this gentleman’s well being.” Arthur looked towards the main stable door and found Albert standing there, leaning into the frame. His figure was imposing. Broad shoulders, sturdy forearms, the build of a man who did some heavy lifting around the farm. And yet, the feeling Arthur got from being around him was far from overbearing.

“Yes, sir. If that’s alright with you, I think I can help.” Arthur nodded and continued brushing the horse.

“Oh it’s fine with me. The less I have to deal with him the better. You know how many sleepless nights I’ve had because of him?"

The man walked closer, moving his hand slowly to pat the horse's nose. Arthur was expecting Houdini to buck or become stressed, but he kept still, even though the older man seemed to be angry at the beast. 

"Ain't that right boy? You gave me some frights didn't you?" Albert lowered his gaze gently to the animal and Arthur softened his gaze.

This was just a father worried that one of his own was sick and he couldn't help him. His words were not angry or hateful. Just like Dutch did at some point in his life. Arthur looked down, trying to get rid of the thoughts that threatened to burst through. It still hurt. The betrayal. The irrefutable evidence that his own father figure tossed him aside.

"I'll do my best to keep him happy and healthy." Arthur nodded.

"Good. And for the love of all that is holy in this world ... Change his god damned name...Who names a stallion Darling…And then shoots him…kids these days, swear to God."

"I will, sir."

"And don't call me sir. You ain't in the military. Albert is fine." "Now come on. I smell sausages and eggs in the kitchen. It ain't much, but it's filling." 

Arthur thought about Pearson's stew and how everyone complained about the taste. Even though he had done it at some point, everyone was thankful for the man who kept them fed. But the truth was, at some point, his stew started to tasted all the same. This was not because of the cook's lack of talent, but because the ingredients were, in fact, the same.

The smell coming from the house was different, from his memories' stew. He smelled of eggs cooked in grease and sausages. He closed his eyes for a moment, sniffing. Arthur's mouth watered, people would have thought he was heading for a feast.

The man sat down at the kitchen table while you served them a mix of eggs and sausage, before sitting down yourself. As they both exhaled a content sound, you smiled.

"I reckon I deserve an award for doing the most today." You said in an attempt to sound like a spoiled lady, looking at your father who just gave you a mocking annoyed face.

"I shall reward you with an afternoon of stocking the hay and milking the cows." Albert said, holding his fork up like a king's scepter as you groaned, rolling your eyes.

"Fine…I guess that'll do." 

Arthur kept his eyes on the plate, only peeking at the pair as they bickered. It was innocent, lighthearted fun and he missed that. The last days at camp, this type of discussion would probably have led to someone getting a punch to the nose or even shot. But there were times when this was common among the gang.

Something snapped in front of his eyes and he saw your smirking face looking at him, your fingers in front of his face. 

"I also believe Mr. Callahan should be awarded."

"I say the bed he sleeps in is reward enough." Albert said, raising an eyebrow. Once again, his tone was light and non-judgemental.

"It is. Just give me some eggs and a mattress and it'll be enough." Arthur nodded, still uncomfortable with joking around with them.

"Here I am thinking we could allow him a bath…" you got up from your seat and grabbed the plates, as his head jerked upwards at the mention of a bath. "I guess eating and sleeping is enough for the man."

"Judging by the way his neck snapped up when you mentioned a bath I'd say otherwise." Albert joked and helped with the dishes.

"Fine." You looked back at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief and your lips smiling. "I guess if it's not too troubling for you, good sir, you can take a bath."

"It ain't no trouble at all." Arthur grabbed his plate and walked to the dishwater bucket. "I...Well, I'm just grateful that you keep giving me things and asking for nothing."

"You're working for your keep. Taking care of land ain't easy. If we want to keep living the way we do, we have to put our backs into it." Albert nodded and the girl hummed.

Arthur thought back at how those words, said by someone else, say Dutch, would have sounded dishonest. Although, it may have been because the work he referenced was dishonest. 

"Oh! What did Doc Brant say about the job?" 

His eyes looked up and he felt his muscles tense. That single word had such an impact on him that he didn't even know he was holding his breath until Albert spoke again.

"Cattle convoy." The older man said, but Arthur didn't blink.

• ··········· • ············ •

@photo1030 :: @sylum :: @marislittlereadingcorner :: @rratman ::@clevergirl74

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction

[sweetflanfiction]

Second Chances - Part 3

Universe: Read Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur x reader

Disclaimers and Warnings: I just realized that the whole farming thing is very similar from the epilogues. It was definetly no intentional! Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about 1899 is from google, so inacuracies will be plenty. The reader is on the older side, and identifies as a female

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

• ··········· • ············ •

“Fight them demons.”

He heard it inside his mind. He hadn’t seen the deer again, his mind wandering through green forests and cool lakes. The only time he saw it again, it disappeared at the entrance to a familiar campsite.

“Arthur my boy!” He heard behind him. His heart pounded as he turned but he saw nothing. “One more job Arthur!” 

“No!” He shouted. “You always have a plan! One more job! No more!"

“Don’t let the demons get you…” A soft woman’s voice whispered.

“We…need…the…money!” The older man’s voice enunciated each word.

“No more!” He said to the sky. “People died for you! I died for you! Hosea! Sean! No more."

The campsite changed a couple of times. Sometimes it was two small wooden cabins in the snow, sometimes it was a big dilapidated house in the south. The world spun around him and he fell to his knees.

“No more.” He mumbled

“Fight them demons.” The voice whispered and he nodded absently.

“I’m done…No more.” He said and his mind became black.

• ··········· • ············ •

A few more days passed and the stranger got progressively better, to the point where your father had almost demanded that you keep the door open at all times when you were inside giving him his medicine. He was still quiet, obedient, sad and incapable of anything other than breathing, eating and sleeping. Whether the last part was because of sickness or his state of mind you didn’t know.

As usual, you kept helping the stray and it ate you inside that, unlike the animals, he didn't react accordingly. It didn’t make you angry or frustrated, but it made you feel sad too.

“When can I leave?” He asked one evening when you started to leave the room.

“Whenever you want.” You said and he hummed.

“Why did you save me?” He asked again and you stopped and turned around. He was eloquent and conscious, but most surprising, he talked in full sentences.

“Because I couldn’t come home knowing someone was dying out there.” You said and leaned back on the wall.

“I wasn’t dying. I was already dead.” He stated with conviction, looking up when you chuckled.

“Well, I might just have to call the priest then, seeing as you seem to have resurrected from a cave in the mountain." You joked but his face was blank, so you turned serious. "Listen, you either came back to life or at least three people have gone mad and have been talking with a ghost.”

“You should have left me there.” He looked up at the ceiling.

“Maybe. But I didn’t.” You sighed. “Listen, the truth is you ain't dead, not even close to it. You had the flu accompanied by a mighty fever. You seem better now…whenever you wanna leave, just walk down the stairs and out the door. Ain’t nobody gonna stop you from getting back to where you came from, back into your own life and loved ones." 

His brows furrowed at the last part of the phrase.

“But…” You continued and he turned his head to look at you. “I talked to Pa and you can stay here a little while longer than needed. The ranch is very large, and we are always in need of help. If you want to stay until you get your mind together, you can. If not, like I said, the door is downstairs.” 

He kept looking at you, studying you from across the room.

“Why would you offer a complete stranger a seat at your table?” He asked, his expression changing between blank and questioning. “For all you know I can kill your whole family, rob you, burn your house down, kill your kids.”

“I can hear you pacing in this room at night, when you think we are sleeping.” I smiled softly when his eyes widened. “You pace back and forth, and when the floor creaks, you stop. This means you’re mobile. In all fairness we did sleep with our guns the first night that happened, but then we realized that you didn’t even try to leave the room. The door has been unlocked this whole time and you never made a run for it. So, correct me if I’m wrong but whatever your end game is, it doesn’t involve harming us.”

The man’s face changed expression three times in five seconds. Initially, it was guilty, then it was angry, and finally it was defeated.

“Y’all don’t even know my name.” He said under his breath. “Hell, I don’t even know y'all's names.”

You told him your name, walking towards the bed, one hand extended. He moved slightly, his brows betraying his blank expression, telling you he tensed up at your movement. He pulled himself up to lean on his elbows and grabbed your hand firmly but not threateningly.

“Arthur M…Callahan…Arthur Callahan.” He announced and you nodded.

“Welcome back into the living world Mr. Callahan.” You smiled softly, shaking his hand.

• ··········· • ············ •

The two manly voices from upstairs kept an amicable tone as you strained to listen. You were sitting at the bottom of the stairs with the two family dogs keeping you company. Much to your delight, both men seemed to be calmly discussing something.

When you told your father about the plan to ask the stranger to stay and help he looked at you sideways, a furry black eyebrow raised upwards, leaning back into his chair. He had learned over the years to listen to your opinion, much like he had done with your mother, and take it into serious consideration.

You had placed your arguments on the table: the ranch was indeed in need of help for the upcoming season; most of the families in charge of the surrounding lands weren't getting any younger, you being one of the youngest and even then you weren't exactly a teenager and finally, your instinct kept nagging that the man somehow had nothing left to go back to.

"Oh if it's your instinct then…sign him right up." Your father grumbled sarcastically.

But at the moment he seemed to be having a conversation with the man. He was either laying down some rules or letting him know the fastest way to the train station. The voices grew quieter and you jerked your head back up the stairs as you saw not only your father, but the stranger, Arthur following behind him.

He was wearing the clothes you'd found him in. They had been washed, but you didn't stitch the holes.

"Well, it seems like Mr. Callahan will help us for a while." Your father stated, coming down the stairs. "I'm gonna grab the horses and give the man a tour of the ranch."

"Alright." You replied getting up from your place on the stairs and looking up at the men. "Miss Brant asked me to help her set up the beehives that had arrived."

The older man nodded. You looked back at the almost healthy Arthur.

"Glad to see you up and walking, Mr. Callahan." He nodded silently and you left, grabbing a hat from the hanger by the door.

• ··········· • ············ •

You arrived late in the evening, your horse on a rhythmic trot. The house was mostly dark, but the front porch had a soft orange glow coming from a lit lantern that your father usually left outside if you weren't home after the sun went down.

There was a shadow next to the lantern and you soon discovered Arthur sitting next to it, looking at the darkness in front of him. Lost in thought, he didn't hear you approach, didn't even notice when you stopped Dusk right near him.

"Hello Mr. Callahan." You tilted your hat to the man, still seated on your horse.

His head jerked and he snapped up to look at you, surprised by your sudden appearance.

"Oh.." he cleared his throat and nodded his head. "Good evening Miss Graham."

"You alright there?" You asked leaning into your saddle horn.

"Ah…just thinkin' I guess. It's the first time I've been out at night after the whole…ordeal." He trailed off and shook his head. "Your father didn't seem very worried about you not showing up for dinner." 

"Bad news travels fast in Captain's Corner. If something had gone wrong, he'd know." You said, only moving to pat Dusk's white mane. 

"Captain's Corner?" The man asked with a hint of, what you assume was, alarm in his tone.

You stood straight in your seat and opened your arms, gesturing to the air around you.

"It's the name of the land Mr. Callahan!" You said enthusiastically "Welcome to Captain's Corner Ranches."

• ··········· • ············ •

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfiction

[sweetflanfiction]

Second Chances - Part 2

Universe: Read Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur x reader

Disclaimers and Warnings: Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about 1899 is from google, so inacuracies will be plenty. The reader is on the older side, and identifies as a female

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

• ··········· • ············ •

You were halfway up the stairs, tray in hand with a bowl filled with chicken soup and a mug filled with water. The sound of a gravely moan and grunt startled you. Maneuvering the tray carefully you took two steps at a time and pushed the door to the guest room with your shoulder.

The bed was in a corner of the room, opposite the door, with a big window behind it. This window was open as the Doc advised. Next to the door was a tall chest of drawers and at the foot of the bed, leaning against a wall was a wooden wardrobe. The room was cramped, but it was mostly used by people who helped out on the farm. After a day in the field, most of them were too tired to care.

The sickly man was sitting upright on the bed, his eyes dazed and confused, his skin coated with sweat, breathing hard, like he had just woken up from a nightmare. 

"Hey there, friend." You said, placing the tray on a tall chest of drawers and turning to him with a soft non-threatening smile.

He looked up at you, surprised, as he held up a hand weakly, when he saw you come over. This made you stop in your tracks.

"Don't!" He moaned, his voice low from not having been used for a while. "I'm sick..."

"I know." You told him, grabbing the lantern from the tray and lighting it. "Doc came and checked on ya. Said you were recovering from the flu. He's bringing medicine tomorrow, but today this is all we got."

"Flu?" He asked, his tone matching his questioning face, his eyes unfocused as his mind drifted elsewhere.

"We thought it was worse too, but no. Seems the heat and being left on the rocks made you sicker than the sickness." You smiled softly at him, leaning against the wall next to the door.

"I..." He cleared his throat and sighed, shaking his head.

You couldn't see his face very well. However, you noted the sharp creases on his forehead appear and disappear as he seemed to have an argument in his head. A groan ended the argument and he fell on the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight, hands on his face, a shallow breath coming to him.

"Right…" you assented, feeling your presence wasn't helpful to the man at that point. You grabbed the tray and quietly placed it on top of the bedside table. "There's water and chicken soup. You should eat it while it's warm. And rest."

The stranger took his hands off his face and turned to the bedside table. He sighed heavily and nodded, rising again on the bed, his back to the headboard and grabbed the tray. He swayed a bit, but seemed calm. When you moved to help him, he shook his head and you stepped back.

"If you need anything else just shout, or grunt...or....something." You told him walking back to the door.

"Thank you..." You heard him mumble.

• ··········· • ············ •

Five days passed and while the man got better, he also got quieter. You or your father would visit him, give him food that he ate slowly, give him that awful smelling medicine tea that he dutifully drank after the doc explained what it was for, but he didn't talk that much after that first night.

You got curious about him and would often find yourself leaning against the wall of his temporary room, watching him for a while. You noticed his build: big, strong, built like a brickhouse even though he seemed frail because of the sickness.

His breathing got quieter as the days passed, that nasty bubbly sound in his throat disappearing almost completely. His fever took longer, sometimes he woke up suddenly, startling you. He would do his best to be polite, letting out a raspy ‘good evening’, but then would just lay down again and turn his back to you. 

On the sixth day, you were cleaning the kitchen after lunch, while your father left to handle business on the ranch. A loud noise came from upstairs. It sounded like furniture being dragged and something crashing on the floor. Mac barked at the noise and you both ran up to the guest room, knocking the door wide open.

The stranger was having an imaginary fight with an imaginary person, while still lying in bed. Sheets half clung to his body, half thrown around the bed. He had knocked on the bedside table with enough force to throw the water jug that sat on it, to the floor. This explained the ruckus you heard.

He was muttering angrily under his breath. Most of the words were unintelligible, but you caught some. Dutch, jobs and death.

You tried to avoid being caught by his limbs as you gently placed a hand on his forehead. He was burning and the closest water source was spilled on the floor. You jumped back and ran outside. The water pump had the coldest water around.

Mac stayed by the man's side, pacing the room and growling. The dog seemed tense, not understanding what was happening. 

Kneeling on the floor with a bucket filled with the water you dunked a rag in and, almost forcefully, put it on the stranger's forehead. He winced in pain and surprise, mumbling a slew of curse words, but after a few seconds he calmed down a bit. He breathed heavily and his brows were wrinkled, his expression still livid.

“It’s alright cowboy. I got you.” You spoke softly. “Don’t let the demons get to you."

“No…Always a plan…” He mumbled back at me.

“You gotta have those sometimes.” You replied, trying to subdue him back into a relaxed state.

“All of them… dead… Hosea…” His expression changed to sadness, while yours became questioning.

“It’s okay friend. Nobody is dying right now.”

“No more…” He whispered.

“I got you, you’re safe.” You kept whispering. 

He hummed and finally became calm and quiet. You sat on the floor, taking the rag away from his head, submerging it again in the cold water and placing it back. With a sigh you leaned back into your hands. 

“Whatever happened to him, did a number on the man.” You heard your father’s voice from behind you, saying exactly what you were thinking.

“He was talking about people dying..." You replied, stretching your legs under the bed and looking back to see your father leaning against the door frame, cleaning his hands with a dirty cloth.

“I heard. Maybe he wasn’t the only one left behind on rocks to die. That amount of anger…That’s not from one bad day…” You heard the older man sigh heavily. “Let him rest. He needs it.”

You nodded after a while, getting up to change the rag, looking at the unconscious man’s face. You unconsciously moved a piece of hair from his burning forehead and he sighed. The anger was forgotten, replaced with quiet sadness.

“Fight them demons, cowboy. Don’t let them get to you.” You repeated and walked away from him.

• ··········· • ············ •

@photo1030

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfiction