#bea morgan

[shellibisshe]

“Look at that, our names in lights. Ida Odell and Isabel Morgan. Quite a pair, ain’t we?”

(template.) (icons.)

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #i love them a lot ok #bea morgan #margie odell #my edits #if u see spelling mistakes no u dont

[shellibocs]

I missed rdr2

#bea morgan #margie odell #MARGIE’S FIRST APPEARANCE ON THE OC BLOG

[cowboydisaster]

I have no idea about the historical accuracy of this but imagine a reader who used to be in a pretty well off family (think like the braithwaites level in society) but she left it all and gave everything up to be with Arthur. It’s her first Christmas away from her family and she misses the Christmas tree back home. Queue Arthur cutting a tree down with his big manly man strength and dragging it back to camp to surprise her🥲

* ˚ ✦ Stardust * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 4k a/n: margo!! This prompt was too cute. I kinda took it and RAN so I hope I did it justice! xx

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: SEVEN days 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

If there's one thing you haven't gotten used to in this way of life, it's the elements. Camp is situated in Big Valley along the Upper Montana River. It's beautiful, and more open country than you've ever seen in your life. But damn, is it cold in winter. Snow drifts down from Mount Shann, creating a beautiful flurry of white around camp, albeit a freezing one. 

At this moment, though, the cold doesn't bother you. In the safety of your tent, back tucked against Arthur's chest, it's impossible for the cold to reach you. He keeps you warm. Like a furnace, that man. You'd be worried he was running a fever if you weren't so used to his toasty-warm temperature. 

You shuffle against Arthur, readjusting in the soft cotton cot. The wind whispers quietly outside, peacefully. Gone is the loud whipping ice storm that had come through a week or so ago. It's been replaced by a quiet falling of snow, the creak of nearby oaks. 

“Darlin’? What is it?” Arthur whispers, voice sleepy against your ear. The hand that's hung over your waist squeezes gently, a small act of encouragement to respond. You smirk. You can picture his face, eyes closed, or half-lifted, eyebrows knitting with worry. 

“What's wrong?” He whispers again. The hand on your waist flattens against your stomach, gently pulling you back towards him. 

Oh, your Arthur. His heart is perfectly in tune with yours, and well, when yours is sunk, he notices. A peculiar little thing you've discovered– he always notices those small details, those small fluctuations in your mood. On top of that, he always addresses them. 

Those selfless personality traits are why you left the city in the first place. Arthur is genuine, real. He's caring, and he communicates with you when you're upset. Your mamá and papá were far too concerned with selling you off to the most eligible bachelor in Saint Denis to care about your feelings. The bachelor's characteristics were of no importance, just his wealth and status in society. That life was… a load of shit, as your dear Arthur would say. 

You'd started sneaking downtown at night to get away from the chaos of your home. Your parents were always fighting and screaming. Broken dishes and ringing ears became a staple in that house. La Bastille Saloon was a short walk from your house on Flavian Street. And that's where you met Arthur. 

Despite his career, you immediately recognized him to be the first honest man that you'd ever met in your life. In a mere thirty seconds of conversation, you'd found a depth to him that your father could never scratch, a kindness that no arranged husband would show you. And so it became a habit. You'd sneak out of your window a few times a week, meeting him at La Bastille– talking, laughing, drinking. Arthur's whiskey burned far more than the French wine you'd sipped on in your life. Where you came from, drinking was for show. To sip on a glass of imported chablis was to assert class, but Arthur taught you how to drink for fun. He'd taught you how to play cards and how to cure a hangover. Your parents would be mortified at your unladylike behavior. 

Arthur showed you fun, and kindness, spontaneity and honesty in a world that you thought was without those virtues. When Arthur had asked you to join him, it was an easy yes. He laid it all out. the good, the bad and the ugly. Criminals, you'd be joining. He was afraid that you would turn away, but crime is no stranger to you. Coming from high society, you saw the rich take from the poor time and again. You saw laundering and fraud, servitude, coercion and arranged murder. 

All your family does is twist lies for their own benefit. They're all snakes, sinking their teeth into everything they come across. Gluttonous in their pursuit to expel venom. It has drowned the whole city of Saint Denis, sunk into the cobblestone roads and poisoned the entire place. 

You see more honesty in the Van der Linde's life of crime than in your family's. At least the Van der Lindes are honest about what they do, and only rob from those who rob from others. 

Leaving with Arthur was the most freeing feeling you've ever experienced. You love him with all your heart. You love the gang, and your new life, and yet even with all that you've gained, you still left so much behind. Joining Arthur; it's the best decision you've ever made, and you don't regret it for a moment, but the approaching holiday is bringing out sadness, memories of your childhood, friends that you'd left in the city. Any good memory of the city is recalled through rose tinted glasses, but still, it's beginning to sting now that it's almost Christmas.

“Darlin’?” Arthur says, the grogginess no longer evident in his voice. He pulls you back to the present like a tether. His thumb drags soothingly over your hip bone, and underneath the thick blankets, you lay your hand atop his. 

“Hmm?” You offer. 

“Where's your head at?” Arthur whispers, breath against your ear. 

“Oh, just thinking.” You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. It's a sad smile, bittersweet. If a candle were lit, and he could see it, Arthur would be much more worried. 

His fingertips brush your hair away from your face, gently pulling some strands behind your ear towards the braid they have escaped from. 

Arthur lifts his hand from you, adjusting the blankets as you turn over in bed. Once you're facing him, he makes sure that all of the blankets cover your frame.

“It's just that this will be my first Christmas away from home.” 

A small silence ensues. One that threatens to let tears slip down your rosy cheeks. Your nose tucks into Arthur's chest as you sniffle, hoping he hasn't taken your words with offense. This is your home now, and you wouldn't have it any other way. But old habits die hard. 

“You missin’ home?” Arthur whispers between kisses to your hair. You shake your head quickly 

“No-no. I don't want you to think-” 

“Baby, I ain't gonna give you a hard time ‘cause you're missin’ home. Hell… my childhood weren’t nothin’ but a world of pain, and sometimes I miss it.” 

You should have expected his understanding. Arthur's never made you feel foolish for your feelings. His hand traces along your hip, keeping you warm and coaxing you to settle back into the comfortable space that he’s surrounded you with. 

“I’m finding it difficult.” You whisper, “The holidays are coming up, and they’re bringing lots of memories. Fond ones, things I don’t want to forget.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Well…” You crack a small smile, eyes going far away, back to old memories long ago, “Papá would have a Christmas tree shipped from Cumberland forest, only the best for him of course.” You chuckle, and Arthur smiles for the sweet sound. 

“And we would decorate it with candles, blown glass, popcorn and cranberries. Oh, it was such a sight Arthur.” You say, a wonder in your voice. The memories are crystal clear in your head. Bright colors, laughter, songs. 

Arthur's Christmas memories don't bring much joy. Except for the year his daddy didn't come home. Still, the way your eyes have lit up– Arthur wishes he could have experienced the Christmas that you're describing. He wishes he could see you with that much joy. 

“Have you ever seen a Christmas tree?” You ask, rekindling that tether and pulling him back to you. 

“Nah, only in the papers. I ain't never lived nowhere so fancy to have a Christmas tree.” 

“It was so beautiful…” You whisper, a chill running down your spine. You hardly notice it, but Arthur pulls you closer nonetheless, his body heat wrapping around you like the warmest of blankets. 

“It seemed as if when the tree was decorated and we all sat together, maybe it was not so bad.” You murmur, and the wonder dissipates from your eyes, replaced with reality. 

Arthur waits for you to collect your thoughts. A whistle of wind breaks the silence before you do. 

“Ah, I'm sorry for this show of emotion. It's silly of me.” 

He shakes his head, forehead gently meeting yours. Your eyes marvel up at Arthur, making out the deep blue of his eyes from a stretch of moonlight that's infiltrated the room. 

“You ain't ever gotta apologize for gettin’ emotional, sweetheart. Not with me.” 

All you can do is nod, feeling again like a schoolgirl with butterflies running rampant in your stomach. His breath traces your face, noses just barely lining each other. 

His lips meet yours, soft and sweet. Your heart soars like it does every time he kisses you. It's something that you're sure you won't ever get used to. But something you're hoping to find familiarity in, because you never want to stop kissing him. 

He pulls away all too soon for your liking, placing a sweet kiss to your forehead. When he hears your small whine, he huffs. 

“I know, get back to sleep baby, I'll still be here in the mornin’.”

It doesn't take long for you to slip back into slumber, not with the soft whisper of the wind, and the cocoon of warmth around you. Arthur practically carries you across the threshold into sleep with the way his arms wrap around you. 

In the little tent, deep in the snow, Arthur begins to hatch his plan. He kisses your head, climbing over you and out of bed to light a candle. It provides just enough light to illuminate the pages of his journal. Just enough light for him to illustrate his surprise. 

He had promised you– all those months ago, when he'd packed your bags onto his horse and ridden you out of the city– that he would do anything and everything to make you happy. It's a promise that he intends to keep  

— — — 

a few days later 

“This is the one.” Arthur marvels, sparkling eyes cast upwards toward the fullest, greenest evergreen in Cumberland Forest. You deserve nothing but the best, and he’s sure that he’s found it.  

Arthur takes a short moment to pull out his journal, dusting some fallen snow from the leather cover. He sketches the tree, a way for him to remember the moment. To remember how the tree had been, perfectly untouched in nature. He takes his time, back propped against the unhitched wagon in the forest, hat covered in a thick dusting of snow. A few flakes even drop onto the page, melting and smudging his charcoal. 

When the branches are sketched to his liking, he accompanies them with a quick passage and closes the book. 

For the lady. Christmas. 1899. 

When the book snaps shut and is stuffed back into his journal, he looks up, finding a questioning look on his trusted stallion’s face. 

“What?” Arthur’s brow furrows, “I’ll plant another one.” 

The stallion sighs.  

Arthur moves around the back of the wagon, pulling an ax from the toolbox, dusting some snow off the handle with gloved hands. The ground is covered in a thick layer of white, the horses too. They press their noses together, whinnying and rumbling, entertaining each other with horse-typical play in the snow. 

“Jasper. Sugar. Quit bein’ sweet on one another, we got work to do.” Arthur calls back to the two horses. What a pair, those two.

Jasper is Arthur’s stallion. He’s well behaved. Shy. Obedient. Then there’s Sugar. She was a gift from Arthur to you. White as snow and wild as the wind. She still is, despite all of her training. 

Arthur had brought the pair of them with the wagon to pull the tree back to camp. But now, Sugar seems more interested in kicking up snow, and well– Jasper is only interested in following Sugar around, hearts practically emitting from his eyes. 

Snow falls in thick flakes,  dotting Arthur’s red flannel and melting against the thick material.  He pays it no mind. The snowfall silences the forest, save for the rhythmic whack…whack of Arthur’s ax hitting the evergreen, and the softened sound of playful hooves in the snow.

“Don’t tire yourselves out.” Arthur huffs to the horses, “Jesus.”

A few more swings of the ax, and the tree begins to fall. It hits the ground with a thud, not nearly as loud as Arthur imagined it would be. But, the snow softened the fall, he supposes. 

In a matter of minutes, the tree is in the wagon. Just a few more, and Jasper and Sugar are pulling it home. 

If everything is going according to plan, right now you should be with Marybeth, picking holly. She had taken you out, because she had “wanted to spruce up camp a bit.” Little do you know, the little adventure is a part of Arthur’s plan. With you away from camp, he was able to borrow Sugar, take Jasper, and get the tree. With you away from camp, the final touches can fall into place.

Arthur gently taps the reins over the horse’s backs, urging them into a faster canter along the beaten down snow path back towards camp.

“Hyah! C’mon, we’re pushin’ it.” He calls to the horses. The little golden bells on their harnesses jingle and ring as he pushes them towards camp, massive evergreen in tow. He checks his pocket watch, cursing quietly before putting it away.  Sadie should be done by now. 

It’s not long before the horses are pulling into camp, large puffs of white billowing out from their noses as they catch their breath. Arthur hops down from the wagon, his hand running along the expanse of it as he reaches the back. 

“Well,  I’ll be damned!” Dutch’s voice booms from across the camp. He makes his way towards the wagon, “Now this is how we celebrate Christmas!” 

The evergreen nearly overtakes the wagon, branches sticking out from all directions, billows of snow still stuck to them. Dutch has no idea how Arthur managed to get it into the wagon. An approaching Hosea is just as flabbergasted.  

“You know, I never took you to be much of a romantic, Arthur. But this might just prove me wrong.” Hosea 

“Whatever you say. Now, quit gawkin’ and help me get this big bastard up.” Arthur mumbles, grabbing the thick tree by the trunk and pulling it down. Sap sticks to his hands as he begins to drag it out of the wagon. Carrying it into the center of camp is a group effort– much easier than Arthur getting it into the wagon by himself. 

“I reckon you two can handle this. I got some other things to check up on.” Arthur steps back, sizing the tree up and down.

“Run along then and leave us the hard work.” Dutch muses, within earshot of Arthur.

“Figured it would do your old bones some good to do real work, Dutch!” Arthur hollers back over his shoulder,  chuckling to himself as he makes his way towards the circle of tents.

“Mrs. Adler?”  Arthur hollers, approaching the A-frame tent, “You in there?”

Before he can part the white canvas tent, Sadie emerges, and he backs up.

 “You get it done?” Arthur asks, cheeks tinged bright pink from the cold. Hat white instead of black. Sadie chuckles for it. 

“Did I get it done?” Sadie mocks with a huff, “A’ course I got it done.”

From her tent, she pulls out a Christmas tree garland. A string carefully woven through dried cranberries and popped corn. It's beautiful and long. It must have taken her hours to make. Arthur’s eyes go wide in small wonder as she transfers the garland to him. 

“S’perfect, Sadie. She’s gonna love this.”

A wide, bittersweet smile stretches across Sadie’s face, “Jake taught me how,” there is a pause as Arthur nods in understanding, “Now go. Go decorate it for your woman.” Sadie smirks.  

“Dear boy! Dear boy, how does it look?” Hosea calls out, and Arthur’s attention shoots towards the tree. They have it standing upright now, perfectly in the center of camp. It stands tall, a real beauty. 

“Perfect.” He gapes at it, wishing he could have done something like this when he was younger– hoping that it will live up to your memories. Arthur doesn’t have the money to buy fancy ornaments, but he’s doing everything in his power to make it special for you. 

With the help of the horses and the wagon, everyone manages to wrap the garland the whole way around the tree, even up to the top. The little trail of white and red looks beautiful against the dark green of the pine. Arthur places lit candles in holders on the branches, casting a beautiful hazy glow that lights up the tree. Camp members begin to gather, circling around the tree, watching and helping. Mrs. Grimshaw offers some holly. Karen offers some candy canes that she had bought in town, hanging them from the branches. 

The sun begins to set, and Arthur checks his watch, knowing that you’ll be back any minute. A small tug on his pants pulls his attention downwards. 

“Uncle Arthur?” Little Jack whispers, eyes sparkling with the reflection of the tree lights, “I made this for you! For you to put it on auntie's tree!” 

Arthur’s brow furrows, and he glances quickly up to Abigail, who is smiling warmly. Jack reaches into his little bag and pulls out a beautiful paper star. He has apparently put a lot of time and effort into folding and cutting the paper into a perfect little topper. Jack’s little hands extend the star up to Arthur, the smile on his face brighter than any of the tree’s candles. 

“You made this?” Arthur asks. 

“Yep, I sure did! Momma even helped me cut the paper!” 

Arthur kneels on the ground– eye level with Jack, a smirk on his lips,  “I think we better put it on the top then, don't you?”

“Oh yes! It would be perfect on top! I just hope aunt y/n likes it…” 

“She’ll love this, buddy.” 

With some more help from a very grumpy Sugar, Arthur manages to place the star perfectly on  the tree top. And just in time, apparently.

When Arthur steps back, taking in the tree for all its glory, his jaw falls slack, eyes filling up with wonder.

It's beautiful. At dusk, the candles shine brightly. The garland has attracted a few red cardinals, and they rest in the branches, comfortable in the new camp tree. Everyone looks in awe. It’s perfect.

— — — 

“No peekin’.” Arthur whispers in your ear from behind, his hands covering your eyes. He slowly walks you forwards towards… something. He hasn’t explained anything to you, just… kidnapped you right outside of camp. You’ve been walking with him, eyes covered for nearly five minutes. 

“Oh, Arthur, what is going on!?” You giggle, hands covering the length of his own, a smile plastered on your face. 

“S’a surprise, darlin’. That’s why you can’t peek.” Arthur’s voice whispers from behind you,  his chest nearly pressed against your back as he inches you forward. 

You roll your eyes. Suddenly, his footsteps are still behind you, and you stop in return. 

“Is this why I was stuck in the forest picking berries all day?” You ask. Arthur huffs. 

“Shhh. We’re here.” He shushes. 

Your heart quickens with excitement, bottom lip tight between your teeth with anticipation. As much as you try to listen for any clues, all you can hear is the munching of hay and the crackle of the campfire– typical for camp after dusk. 

“Arthur…?” You whisper, almost afraid to break the quiet. Anticipation swirls in your stomach, followed by anxiety tickling up your spine. 

His calloused hands pull away from your eyes, and your lashes flutter as you focus on the sight in front of you.

It’s… a christmas tree. Your jaw falls slack, and as unladylike as it may be, you can’t help it. A small gasp escapes your rosy lips. 

It must be twelve feet high, and it's thick with branches. Candles, and decor wrap around the tree like a dress tailored to perfection. Color and light burst from the beautiful tree, and before you can control yourself, tears are welling up in your eyes. 

“Arthur, I–” Your voice cracks, the tears almost spilling over.

“Darlin’?” Arthur’s thumb softly brushes the inside of your hand. For a moment, he worries that he’s misstepped terribly. The sight of your tears brings forth a small panic, quelled by the outburst of your smile. Tears fall freely from your eyes, but they are of joy– not sadness. 

“You got me– You got me a Christmas tree?” You smile, wiping away the tears as he envelopes you into his warm arms. You sniffle, laughs of pure joy escaping into his chest as he holds you tight.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” Arthur whispers to you, arms wrapped around your waist. The light from the tree dances in your eyes, almost as beautiful and bright as your smile. 

“Oh, Arthur, it’s perfect.” You gasp, eyes glued to the tree, pulling away to glance into Arthur’s eyes, “How ever did you get it here?” 

“With a little help.” Arthur nods towards the horse station where Sugar and Jasper are laying in the hay, nuzzling each other sweetly. As if knowing, Sugar whinnies towards you softly, followed by a quiet neigh from Jasper.  

Your eyes wander back towards the tree in front of you, and then to Arthur once again. His hands slide down from your waist, thumbs settling into the dimples in your back. 

“It's beautiful.” You say.

“It’s all yours.” 

In all of your life, Arthur has been the first person to cater to your emotions– to care about them. Your heart fills with love, so much that it overflows and floods the earth at your feet. Soaking into the ground of the camp, touching the hearts of the others around you. 

“I love you.” You whisper, head resting on Arthur’s chest, eyes fixed on a cardinal that’s pecking at the popped corn on the tree. 

“I-” Arthur pauses, realizing. His brow furrows, eyes flickering down, “Wait, what?”

“I said I love you.” You reiterate, chin propped on his chest to look up at him. Arthur looks nearly blown away by the words. Words he’s not heard from you yet. Words that he’s nearly let slip time and again over the past few months. 

Arthur’s lips crack into a smile, crows feet wrinkling for the action. His thumb brushes your cheek before trailing down to your chin, pulling you in towards his lips. You lean on your tiptoes, brushing your lips against his, meeting him with all the love and joy that you never thought would be possible for you. He’s taken you from a bad situation, and given you everything you could have wanted and more. Your lips press against his, pink-tinged noses lining each other. Your eyes flutter shut, snowflakes catching in your thick lashes as you deepen the kiss. Your fingers tangle into the hair at the base of his neck, your tongues dance with one another. 

When you pull away to breathe, your eyes lock with his, sparkling with light. 

“I love you too.” He smirks, hands wrapping under your thighs, eliciting giggles from you as he hoists you into his arms. Fat snowflakes fall into your hair as Arthur turns towards your tent, ready to carry you to bed. 

“No- wait!” You grip his arm, stopping him in his tracks, “Please, Arthur- just five more minutes. I’d like to keep looking at the tree.” 

Arthur pauses, brushing your cold cheek, “Alright. Five more minutes.” He smiles, pressing a sweet kiss to your hair.

The tree shines bright as ever, as if god had sprinkled stardust down from the heavens, painting your tree in beautiful white light. 

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola

#divider by cafekitsune #cowboydisaster's christmas countdown #bea's christmas countdown #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan fluff

[omegabenaeart]

AAAAA YOU LIKE CHARTHUR? Omg that’s so amazing I literally couldn’t love your art more

They love each other ❤️

Also, bonus baby shenanigans

#answer #meg's art #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #traditional art #charles smith #arthur morgan #charthur #rdr2 oc #honey bea smith #just look at them <3 #they make good dads #damn honey i let you have 2 dads??? #i didn't mean to make this a charthur au #but here i am now #dad charles #dad arthur #you're both dads now

[princess-serah]

I saw a fancast poll going around, so here's my Skulduggery Pleasant Book One fancast

Frankie Corio as Valkyrie Cain

Domnhall Gleeson as Skulduggery Pleasant

Katie McGrath as China Sorrows

Jamie Dornan as Ghastly Bespoke

Daisy Ridley as Tanith Low

Continued on reblog:

#skulduggery pleasant #skulduggery pleasant book one #fancast #Valkyrie Cain #frankie corio #domnhall gleeson #china sorrows #katie mcgrath #jamie dornan #ghastly bespoke #daisy ridley #tanith low #mark strong #mr bliss #nefarian serpine #andrew scott #aisling bea #Melissa Edgley #colin morgan #Desmond Edgley #liam neeson #eachan meritorious #fiona shaw #morwenna crow #aiden gillen #sagacoius tome #graham norton #Oisin

[silanb]

@omegabenaeart and their Dad Charles au inspired me to revive my Charthur baby au so here we are!

And of course I had to draw Bea as well!

Song is Little Honeybee by Anne-Marie Choon.

#dobes draws #my art #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #fanart #Charles smith #arthur morgan #Charthur #au #how else do I tag this uuuuhhhhhh #omegabean ily and ur art #Honey Bea Smith #Eliza Morgan-Smith #she’s meant to look like both of them so do with that information what you will

[margowritesthings]

There’s a fire in your eyes and there’s blood on your hands₊˚⊹

Star — The Fire In Your Eyes

by @cowboydisaster

read now

#arthur morgan #the fire in your eyes #Bea my beloved <3 #starthur #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan rdr2 #moodboard

[salonduthe]

Barbara Morgan, Bea Seckler Solo, 1938

#barbara morgan #bea seckler #femme #dance #body

[riverstardis]

happy lesbian visibility week to jan jenning and ffion morgan and bea kinsella and kathleen “dixie” dixon and archie hudson and stevie nash

#also to that bts photo from ethan and fenisha’s wedding where someone on twt said they looked like a soft butch and butch lesbian couple #bc they weren’t wrong and i can’t unsee it now😭 #also was archie ever even actually confirmed to be a lesbian in canon??? #cause like clearly she is but i don’t remember her actually saying it? #anyways they need more lesbians!!!! #lesbian visibility week #bbc casualty #casualty #jan jenning #ffion morgan #bea kinsella #dixie dixon #archie hudson #stevie nash #i will die on my lesbian stevie hill okay

[simplysummers]

Sending you hugs, my love!! 🫂💜

Thank you Morgan, love you 💛💛

#you’re such a sweetheart 💛 #ask bea #bea’s beloved besties #Morgan 💫

[squidproquoclarice]

Yeehawgust Day 21: Desert Paintbrush

March 1912

Paradise Run, New Caledonia

They’d gotten the assignment to draw something for class, and chores done for the day, she finally turned towards it.  Put it off in favor of assignments that felt easier, and that even included math.  But math was simple enough.  It was or it wasn’t, matter of fact.  Draw something.  Sounded easy, but it wasn’t.  So many possibilities out there, and all of them running through her mind, ideas examined and picked over, and nothing seemed right.  Looking out the window of the farmhouse, seeing the endless sea of white snow under a heavy leaden grey sky, Bea had to think the long, long winters here on the edge of the Canadian prairies didn’t help either.  Nothing much to see until you went into the forest, and there was a beauty to that, but she didn’t want to draw that either.

Sitting by the fireplace, hearing the wind roaring outside and rattling the frost-dusted windowpanes, she found herself picking up the pencil and starting to draw what felt like the furthest thing from.  

She’d been born all the way down in Nuevo Paraiso.  Gone from Mexican desert to Canadian prairie, and that seemed like one heck of a jump to her.  Didn’t remember much about Chuparosa, because they’d left that house when she was only two, gone on the move with the circus for the next few years, before settling down here.

All the same, there were wisps of images in her mind, and something in her wanted to try to put them on paper before maybe even they faded.  So she sketched, sitting there with her hot cocoa, and ended up with a sweeping rock formation on her page, a hole in its underside, turning it into an arch.  Cactuses and the like dotting the landscape, she imagined.  They must have been there.  She started to draw one, not remembering them too clearly.  She looked at it and hated it, seeing it looked more like the winter-bare maple tree in their front yard than anything, and moved to erase it.  But redrawing it, trying to make it stockier, just made it look like a shapeless blotch of nothing.

“There’s a face,” Dad said, passing through the parlor, and obviously having glanced her way.  “You’re looking at that page like you want to cuss it out, just about.”

“I’m drawing,” she said, scowling at the stupid tree-cactus-thing.  “But it ain’t working.  I don’t see it clearly enough and it just looks stupid.”

Coming over, he leaned over, gave a low whistle.  “Ojo del Diablo,” he said.  “No, you got that right, pretty well.  You remember that, huh?”

“A little.  Just got a picture of it in my head.  Not sure why, but it’s there.”

He smiled at that.  “Your momma and me used to take you out there for picnics sometimes if the weather weren’t too bad, and we had a day off from whatever work we was doing at that point.  Took both you and Mattie after he came along.  Guess you remember a bit of that for it to have stuck.”

That made sense of it, and when he said it, she felt like there was a flicker of memory too, of Mom sitting on a blanket, laughing and reaching up to take Bea in her arms.  “Don’t remember what them plants in the desert looked like,” she admitted.  “And so my cactus just looks dumb.  And there should probably be other things there and I ain’t…”

He gave her a quick pat on the shoulder, and gestured for her to hand over the pad of paper and the pencil.  Headed over to his chair near the fire and flipped to the next page of the paper, sat there, one booted foot crossed over the other knee, pencil scratching in quick, confident strokes she could only envy.  She knew he drew some too, had seen little doodles and the like that he made, and wished she could get something to look like that.

Sitting there sipping her cocoa, she could only wait, wanting to go and peek, a bit fascinated at seeing the look of intent focus on his face, caught up in whatever he was seeing in his own head.  After a good while, he handed it back.

He’d drawn a whole page of plants for her, a few strokes somehow giving the look of them in a way she could almost see them in her mind, alive and real.  Labeling them too in his neat handwriting.  Cactuses, trees, even flowers–she hadn’t thought about there being flowers in the desert, but there had been.

Barrel cactus

Desert paintbrush

Chuparosa

Desert sage

Saguaro cactus

Desert chicory

Ironwood

Nuevo Paraiso thistle

Buckhorn cholla

Prickly pear

Mesquite  

She looked up at him, unable to help a grin.  “Those are real fine.”

“Well, I had more years than you to study plants in the desert,” he said teasingly, reaching out and tapping the tip of her nose with his finger.  “Sadie had even more than me, growing up in New Austin as she did, but unfortunately you’re stuck with me as the one scratching out drawings.  But maybe that helps, all the same.”

It helped.  It helped more than she could say, and it made her eager to get back to the drawing now.  “Thank you, Daddy,” she said, already studying the buckhorn cholla intently.  

Heard a low chuckle from him in reply as he headed out to whatever he’d been on his way to do before.  “Welcome, Beanstalk.”

#yeehawgust #yeehawgust 2022 #arthur morgan #bea griffith #sadithur if you squint #rdr2 #sunrise'verse

[shellibisshe]

— picrew tag

tagged by @indorilnerevarine to make some ocs and myself in this picrew!! thank you!!

I’ve sent out a lot of picrew tags this week so I’m not sure who to tag, but tag me if you want to use this!

me | vanessa jeong (cp2077)

bea morgan (rdr2) | marian ramos-de león (rdr2)

#tag game #about me #vanessa v jeong #bea morgan #marian ramos de león

[lanitabear]

 morgan and olivia adopted a cat named bea into the family!

#ts4 #ts4 gameplay #postcardlegacychallenge #layton: gen 5 #layton: gen 6 #bea #morgan #olivia

[cowboydisaster]

Hi again! Thought of another one….

Arthur finds out that reader has a gift for him for Christmas but he hasn’t gotten them anything. So he has to scramble to think of a gift. He ends up making a handful of drawings of reader including some with their beloved horse. And of course reader is over the moon about it

This one isn’t too clever so if you’re not feelin’ it, it’s ok.

🎄❤️

* ˚ ✦ Icebreak * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 720 a/n: Just a cute lil' drabble. Merry Christmas' eve! Thank you for another really cute prompt!!

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: ONE day 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

Arthur distinctly remembers the conversation in which you’d both agreed that you wouldn’t be exchanging gifts this year. Alarm bells are going off in his head. Was he supposed to get you a gift anyway? Should he have ignored that conversation entirely? Been a gentleman and got you something nice? Arthur swallows thickly. 

Despite the conversation, Arthur had just found out that you have a gift for him. Sadie has a loud mouth, especially when she’s drunk, and for once, Arthur is grateful for it. At least he has a little time to think of something. He pulls his pocket watch out, glancing at the time. 6:27 PM. A little time. 

In a rush, Arthur jogs into his tent, pulling his journal out of his satchel and placing it on the bed. Beside it, he tosses down a piece of charcoal and a pencil. The camp isn’t in a great financial situation; hence the agreement of no presents. So, he reckons if he can’t buy you something, he’ll just have to make you something. 

Arthur begins drawing, and after a while, the sun fades away, forcing him to switch to lantern light. The side of his hand is caked in lead as he runs the pencil over the pages, capturing the curves of your body, the shine of your smile. He draws his favorite memories of you. The day he gifted you your mare, Sugar. The day you kissed him for the first time. The day he’d brought you to camp. 

Arthur stays up far too late, sketching a handful of pictures of you, taking his time to capture you in the utmost detail. His hand flicks perfectly, catching the waves in your hair, the line of your jaw. Arthur draws you with your mare, with his gelding, with him. 

The group of drawings encapsulate the things that you love the most, and the memories that you hold dear. After finishing half a dozen good drawings, Arthur inspects them, fixing little mistakes, and adding little notes about his love for you. When he’s finished, he takes some old baling twine, tying a little bow around the pages, fixing them until they’re all wrapped up perfectly.

He knows you deserve better, a bracelet of silver or gold. A necklace embedded with gemstones, or a new dress. Those are the things you would have been gifted back in the city. He sighs, looking down at his little homemade gift, knowing that it will just have to do.

— — —

“Alright,” Arthur whispers, pulling out the ribbon-wrapped sketches, “Go on n’ open ‘em.” 

Your eyes open slowly, drifting to the white pages that Arthur is extending out to you. 

Hesitantly, you take them, eyes searching up to Arthur’s for reassurance. He nods, and you smile, pulling the twine ribbon, letting it spiral to the floor. You flip the first paper, recognizing it as being ripped out from Arthur’s journal, and you gasp. 

It’s a beautiful sketch, one of you sitting up in bed, hair draped down your back, a graceful smile on your lips. Even through paper and pencil, Arthur has managed to capture the sparkle in your eyes, the optimism in your countenance. Next to the drawing is a small note. 

Early mornings with my lady.

Your heart warms, and you flip to the next one. You find a sketch of you, laying on the back of your beloved mare, arms wrapped around her neck. The drawings are stunning. Works of art that should be posted in a gallery in Saint Denis, and he’s giving them to you. You know how private Arthur is with his journal, and you’re honored.  

“You like ‘em?” Arthur asks, nervous of your silence as you continue to look through. Tears pool in your eyes as you look up to him, holding up some of the precious gifts. 

“You drew me. Arthur,  I love them.” Sincerity is thick in your voice, and Arthur wipes a tear away from your cheek. 

“Didn’t wanna make you cry.” He jokes. You huff. 

“They’re so beautiful, so meaningful. No one’s ever done anything like this for me. Not in my whole life— not before you.” You whisper. 

Arthur’s arms wrap around you then, pulling you into his chest, shushing away your sniffles. 

“They’re perfect, Arthur.” You murmur against him. He smiles. 

“Merry Christmas, darlin’.”

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola @calcarius445

#divider by cafekitsune #cowboydisaster's christmas countdown #bea's christmas countdown #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x f!reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan

[omegabenaeart]

When both your dads are smokers...

Little baby doesn't know any better

Also, mind your business, Charles.

#meg's art #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #traditional art #charles smith #arthur morgan #rdr2 oc #honey bea smith #everything's fine #the baby just put a stick in her mouth #worst thing to happen there was getting dirt in her mouth #but yeah #you know when kids start copying the things you do? #that's this situation #dad Charles #this is entirely self indulgent

[radiant-reid]

NO BC IMAGINE HER COMING IN WITH THEIR KIDS (we all know spencer can't stop at one so they'd have 3 max) AND EVERYONE IS LIKE. "whos goddamn wife is that.."

(I'm talking at least spences slick back hair era)

him >>> this is in my top 5 hairstyles, i wish he wore it more

Spencer had been out the door early that morning with the usual kiss on the forehead for his kids and a minute's worth of chaste kisses for his wife.

Friday nights are dance classes which usually works well with Spencer's schedule since their cases start at the beginning of the week and wrap somewhere in the middle.

He didn't take his car to work, figuring they didn't need two, especially since they were going out afterward to get ice cream and celebrate the girls' recital.

Morgan had distracted Spencer while he's waiting for a message from Y/n to tell him she's there, and when his phone chimes, he doesn't hear it.

So the four of them make their way up to the sixth floor, the girls bouncing up and down while Y/n holds their youngest.

Spencer doesn't notice them until the girls squeal and run across the floor to where he's standing in the kitchenette. He knows those sounds well and turns from tipping out the rest of his coffee to greet them.

"Hey." He grins, bending down to their height and holding out his arms so he can catch the three-year-olds. The twins attack him with cuddles, excited to see him after so long. He effortlessly picks them up, carrying one in each arm against his sides as he looks at his wife. "Why are you guys up here?" He asks.

"I texted and called." She tells him, and he looks for his phone before realizing he left it sitting on his desk.

"Oh, I was in the board room. I'm sorry." He apologizes, knowing it can't have been easy to lug three kids out of the car.

She shakes her head, stepping closer to kiss him. "Don't worry. Are you nearly ready to go? These two are pretty excited."

They agree, kicking their ballet-shoe-clad feet up and down. "I can tell. You both look so pretty." He tells them, looking at their identical white tutus and slick back buns. "And yeah, we should probably go." He spins around, carrying them to his desk to skillfully pick up his stuff while holding them.

Y/n follows him with the baby carrier, helping put his (thankfully closed) files into his satchel while Spencer chats to the girls about their days.

While they stand in the middle of the bullpen, they're viewable from the boardroom where Morgan, JJ, Emily, and Penelope are sitting.

Morgan catches them in his peripheral vision first. "Uh, guys, who's that with Reid?" He draws everyone else's attention to the happy family outside.

"Spencer's got kids?" JJ asks as they all make their way to stand closer to the glass where they can see the mysterious visitors.

"Spencer's got a wife?" Penelope echos her confusion.

"A hot wife." Emily jokes, getting hit on the shoulder by Penelope as punishment.

Morgan seems to agree with her, though. "That can seriously not be someone's mom."

"Should we, like, leave them?" JJ wonders, although she really doesn't want to.

"No." Penelope shakes her head. "We've got to meet those adorable children."

It's Morgan's voice that draws Spencer out of the bubble of their happy family, reminding him he was never out of eyesight. "Hey, pretty boy," Morgan smirks, out of the room and leaning on the railing.

JJ, Penelope, and Emily all stand next to him, watching Spencer's reaction."What is going on?" JJ asks.

Spencer's speechless about their secret coming out, so Y/n steps up. "Hi, I'm Y/n Reid, and I'm his wife." She introduces herself. The four of them make their way down to shake her hand, except for Penelope who can't resist hugging her.

"You have a wife?" JJ asks.

"And three kids?" Penelope adds.

"A beautiful wife, too." Morgan flirts playfully.

Spencer chuckles slightly. "Surprise?" He offers. "This is Belle." He turns to the side, showing them one twin. "And this is Bea."

"Daddy!" 'Bea' complains with a giggle. "I'm Mabel."

He's been mixing them up on purpose since they were little, amusing them to no end which was his goal as a parent. He just grins at her. "And that's Beau." He nods to the 6-month-old boy still in his seat, still asleep. Y/n turns his car seat around so they can see the baby.

"I'm sorry you guys never knew." She apologizes. It would have been nice for both parts of Spencer's life to overlap, but he was paranoid about something happening to them.

"Wow." Morgan verbalizes for the rest of them. "You really can keep a secret."

Penelope places a hand over her heart jokingly. "Even I didn't know."

"It won't make you feel better, but Gideon, Hotch, and Rossi all know." Spencer tells her menacingly. He knows she's going to go look them all up when they leave. As little people as possible knew since he was terrified about someone bad getting to them, but it feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulder now that his two lives have overlap. "We do kind of have to go." He remembers, looking at his watch.

"We'll just send you a list of questions when we finalize them." Penelope settles as they say farewell to each.

Morgan waits until they're just out of earshot to make his next comment. "Number one, how did you get such a hot wife?"

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb