#because god forbid they just like a character with poor writing - that they can overlook the bad parts of the writing and appreciate them

[butwhatifidothis]

can i just say, i find it very funny how a good majority of GW defenders’ counter arguments essentially boil down to “GW makes perfect sense actually you’re all just too DUMB to understand!!1!” hdhdhsjjf fe3h fans in general have such a superiority complex, it’s genuinely hilarious watching them ardently defend the world’s most mediocre dogshit writing💀

That's such a huge part of what makes them so infuriating lmao, they act like they're so smart just cuz they're willing to overlook blatant contradictions.

"Yeah, sure, the game exclusively wrote Shahid to be a murderous racist towards Claude and wrote exactly 0 positive connections between the two of them, but Claude killing Shahid in self-defense would totally make him completely willing to kill completely innocent people! How can GW detractors just not see that!!"

"Yeah, sure, Claude himself says that Edelgard 'might be hoping she can vanquish the Alliance and the Kingdom in one go and rebuild Fodlan from the ground up' and that Edelgard wants to 'bring the fight to the rest of Fodlan,' but it TOTALLY MAKES SENSE that him reading Edelgard's manifesto OFF-SCREEN and only mentioning this AFTER SHE LIED TO HIS FACE would make him 180 and make him believe that getting rid of the Church would make Edelgard stop her war! It just makes so much sense!!"

"Yeah, sure, in 3H Claude says that Edelgard's violence both ruins his ambitions and is something the people can't stand behind, but Claude was sus of the Church and Edelgard wanted to COMPLETELY DESTROY IT, which are totally the same thing and which totally explains why Claude just becomes Edelgard 2.0 in Hopes! YOU just never understood Claude's character and only wanted him to follow Dimitri around (unlike us, who totally don't just want him to follow Edelgard around)!!"

"Yeah, sure, Claude's ENTIRE GOALS revolve around bettering foreign relations, but it makes sense for him to worsen Faerghus/Fodlan's foreign relations with Sreng because the Church was doing that already! What's so hard to understand!!"

"Yeah, sure, the devs said they wrote Claude around the idea of him being more ambitious while simultaneously giving him no ambitions for after the war and 180'ing on what he wanted to do during the war, but isn't what he's doing so much more ~interesting~ and ~dark~? Hopes!Claude haters just wanted Claude to be a goody two shoes!"

It's all just incredibly condescending and pretentious as all hell. Because it can't POSSIBLY be the case that Claude - in a noncanonical spin-off game, with a different director from 3H's in charge of it - was just written badly and OOC. It can't POSSIBLY be the case that even when disconnected from his base 3H character, Hopes!Claude is chock-full of contradictions in his characterization between his Part 1 and Part 2 iterations. And it DEFINITELY can't POSSIBLY be meaningful in any way that damn near ALL of the people that insist that Hopes!Claude is either completely congruent with 3H!Claude or is what 3H!Claude SHOULD have been... all either prefer Edelgard or ship Edel///claude (the ship which can be overwhelmingly condensed down to "Claude doing whatever it is Edelgard wants without having any character of his own" and oh, would you look at what he does in Hopes, oh gee must be a coincidence that they all lap that shit up).

Nope, Claude fans who prefer Claude as their fave lord? Secretly never liked him! It's totally US who have a fanon version of Claude we like over the canon version, and definitely not the ones who like him doing shit and saying shit and believing shit that runs diametrically opposed to literally everything he stands for in 3H ("the Kingdom threw us to the wolves first 300 years ago" yeah THAT isn't fanon Claude, nope). Claude fans who don't wholeheartedly accept that Hopes!Claude is either who Claude was all along or is otherwise 100% in-line with his 3H counterpart never liked him at all.

And don't even bring up people who like Claude but prefer Dimitri lmao.

It's just this weird habit of fandom I'm seeing nowadays, where if you don't accept the writing as perfect and if you point out blatant inconsistencies then OBVIOUSLY you either were never a fan or you just "don't understand man." It can't ever be the writers at fault for writing something bad anymore, it's always the fans who are lacking something to be able to "appreciate" what's given to them. Just look at how any and everyone who criticizes Edelgard is automatically deemed a hater of her. There's a mutual of mine who literally buys merch of Edelgard, buys zines of Edelgard, and will readily have Edelgard in their Top 5 favorite 3H characters, and even they get accused of hating her just because they have the gall to... point out that Edelgard has very noticeable flaws, both as a character and in her writing.

That's basically what I'm seeing happen with Hopes!Claude. You criticize him? You're making discourse, you aren't a fan of him, you're a hypocrite in some way, you never understood him. His fans - much like Edelgard's, oh wow would you look at that hmm must be a complete coincidence again - make it so fuckin' hard to like him, even if you do genuinely like Hopes!Claude. If you like him as the bad guy he very clearly is because he is making very clearly villainous actions? Nope, you're not liking him the right way. If you like him in concept but feel his execution was lacking? Nope, you're not liking him the right way. Just like with Edelgard, you have to like Hopes!Claude in a very specific way or you will be called a hater of some kind. And that attitude just isn't conducive to a welcoming fandom environment

#ask #anon #clyde discourse #fire emblem warrior: three hopes spoilers #fire emblem warriors three hopes spoilers #Clyde defenders are just so DEFENSIVE it's unreal #they throw shit at anyone who dares criticize his garbage-tier writing #they get mad at people for pointing out it's mostly Edelgard fans who like Clyde fans #before literally turning around two seconds later and accusing every single Claude fans who dislikes Clyde of ACKCHUALLY preferring Dimitri #and ACKCHUALLY never liking Claude at all #the mere act of pointing out contradictions in Clyde's writing is itself discourse to these people #they pull up ThE dRaFtS as if they have anything to do with what was actually written in the actual game #because god forbid they just like a character with poor writing - that they can overlook the bad parts of the writing and appreciate them #despite that #because something with poor writing is impossible to like/love i guess

[write-havoc]

Of Sons and Daughters Ch 13

Summary: Arthur is tasked by Dutch to watch over a young woman who had just lost the last member of her family she had left. That young woman just so happens to be the daughter that Dutch told no one else about.

This is a non canon AU with no major spoilers

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, PG 13 smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

It’s been a while since I’ve actually sat down to write, I guess. Things have been real quiet after all that mess we cooked up in Saint Denis at Colm’s execution. But quiet don’t mean I ain’t been busy. Especially since things have been a little harder since we still been laying low.

Me and Charles have been hunting quite a lot. Even convinced Marston to join us a few times. Don’t think that boy’s properly hunted in a long time, but he picked it back up real quick. There’s a bunch of wild hogs living around Shady Belle, so the eating’s pretty good. The pelts are plenty useful (and valuable), too. Plus, Emmeline and Hosea have been fishing, since we’re right by the water. They both got a knack for it, so everyone’s bellies have been kept fairly full even without us buying food from the store.

Those of us who’s more recognizable have had to stay out of the city, so the girls have stepped up to make us some cash to buy other things like ammo and medicine. All of them are mighty good at pickpocketing. And Karen and Mary Beth have some con devised to relieve gullible men of their money. Something about being poor widows looking for work, I guess. It’s working out, anyway, and they insist it’s all safe. Lenny and Kieran usually back them up just in case something would go wrong. It don’t bring in as much money as we’re used to, but we’re making do.

Emmeline tells me that when I’m not here, she’s been spending a lot time with Dutch. She’s happy to get to know him and he seems happy to make up for lost time with her. I guess he’s been telling all kinds of stories, trying to educate her on the evils of society like he has with all the rest of us. That’s what she tells me anyway. I haven’t really talked to him much actually. When I see him with everyone else, he seems like the old Dutch, like how he was before Micah came. Before Blackwater. But he still seems a little different with me. He don’t talk to me the same way, not exactly. I can’t really describe it, but he just seems a little off. And I ain’t so sure I like him talking to Emmeline so much. 

Just the other day, I came back into camp and found Dutch and Emma sitting on the back porch overlooking the swamp. Neither of them knew I was there listening in, which I guess ain’t such a nice thing on my part. Still, I didn’t say I was there and just listened. He was telling her a story about something that happened years ago. I had run across this church that raised a ton of money from its parishioners to build this orphanage in the next town over. Something about it just didn’t seem right, so I dug into it. And I was right. It turned out, there was no plans for any such orphanage at all. The preacher was just raising money for himself so he could gamble it away or spend it on whores. So me and Hosea came up with a plan to steal all that money and dropped it off at the nearest actual orphanage. Strung that bastard up in his own church, too, so his followers could see him for the scoundrel he was. Now that’s what actually happened. But that’s not what Dutch told Emma. He told her he was the one that found the church. He thought there was something going on. He came up with the plan all by himself and he did it all. He didn’t even mention me or Hosea.

Emma, she thought the story was amazing, completely enthralled with Dutch’s knack for the dramatic. And the way she looked at him, like he was some kind of folk hero... I froze. I couldn’t jump out and tell her he was lying, as much as I wanted to know why he did it. I couldn’t break her heart like that, knowing that her father was lying to her right to her face.

But the thing is, Dutch has plenty of stories like that he could tell about himself. That’s practically all he and Hosea did when they was starting out. They was known as “gentleman scoundrels” for years because of it. They’d rob banks and trains, but never took from those who looked like they was poor. They even gave a bunch of the money they took away. It wasn’t until we started picking up more people that things really changed. Money got tight having to feed more of us, so we stopped giving it away. But I’m just wondering, why’d he take my story? Out of everything, why’d he choose to leave me out of my own story that he decided to tell Emma? I can’t quite figure out what he’s thinking. And that’s making me even more anxious for the day that I’ll have to tell Dutch Emmeline’s with child. I guess because I ain’t quite sure how he’s going to act. And it won’t be too much longer before we’re going to have to tell him and everyone else.

Emma’s belly has started to swell. You can’t tell much when she’s clothed, but when we’re in bed alone together, I can see it. Sometimes if she falls asleep before me, I just look at her and see how much the baby’s grown already. It’s amazing and beautiful and terrifying all at the same time. I know this baby is coming and when it does, I’m going to have to be a father. I don’t rightly know what I’m doing in that regard. 

What if I’m like my own father? I don’t want that. Not at all. He weren’t a good father. Will I be like Dutch? Or Hosea? Or even John? I’m not sure if I want any of that, either. I guess John’s doing better now, but he ran away scared at first. And I suppose Dutch and Hosea taught me a lot and they didn’t raise their hands to me or nothing, so that ain’t too bad. But I don’t want to raise a child on the run. I don’t want to teach my son how to beat people or my daughter how to pickpocket. Or sell herself, god forbid. I don’t want my children worrying that if they don’t lie well enough to con some poor sap out of their money that we won’t have the means to eat. I don’t want them to think some lawman is going to come and take their daddy away and hang him in the town square. 

I don’t want none of that.

 “Arthur?” Emmeline’s voice draws him out of his thoughts.

He closes his journal swiftly and looks up to her. “Everything alright?” he asks as she approaches him. 

Before she says anything, she takes a seat next to him on the ground. Though the air is hot and muggy, Arthur’s spot is nicely shaded from the large trees standing tall above them. He had seen the little clearing while hunting in the woods just outside of Shady Belle and thought it would be a nice place to get away from camp life without actually traveling too far. 

“Everything’s fine,” she answers his question after situating herself.

“What are you doin’ out here? You shouldn’t wander too far from everyone.”

Emmeline laughs at Arthur’s overprotective nature. “It’s not that far from camp. I could practically see you the whole way over here.” She stretches her legs out in front of her and leans back on the fallen tree behind her to get more comfortable. “Are you alright out here?”

He looks over to her. “Course I am.” He puts his arm around her shoulder and pulls her into him. He isn’t usually so forward, but since they are away from prying eyes, he indulges in the contact. “Just wanted a little peace and quiet.”

“Oh. If you want me to go, I can-“

“Nah. I like havin’ you wit’ me. When I came back from hunting, I went to find you. I saw you readin’ with Abigail and thought that I didn’t want to interrupt while you was busy.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s doing really well with it. When she went off to get Jack something to eat, I went looking for you, actually.” She giggles at their shared behavior. “Sean told me you walked off this way after you came in, so I followed. I knew you didn’t go too far since you left Sparrow behind.”

“Hadn’t written in my journal in a while. I thought it’d be nice and relaxing to do it out here.”

“Were you drawing something?”

“Didn’t get that far, honestly. But since you’re here, mind bein’ my model?” he asks with a mischievous smile.

She laughs. “I’d be honored.” She fluffs up the hair around her shoulders to try to make it a little more presentable in its half up do, then changes positions so she’s resting her right arm on the log with her legs bent underneath her.

Arthur moves as well, finding a spot across from Emmeline to draw her in profile. Before he starts drawing, he leans back over toward her to smooth her skirt out around her legs, making it look better. “Now stay still.” He puts the pencil to the page, starting to roughly sketch the pose as she sits before him.

She’s never officially posed for anything before, but from pictures and illustrations that she’s seen, she figures a somber expression is what she should be portraying. After a few minutes of posing, though, she finds that the more serious she tries to look, the harder it is to suppress her giggles.

“You ain’t holding still that well,” Arthur comments as he flicks his eyes between the page and Emmeline, continuing to sketch. Though he’s acting all business on the outside, he’s trying hard to keep his composure as well.

“I can’t help it!” she says between giggles, her whole body shaking with the motion. “Nothing’s even funny, but I can’t stop laughing!”

It seems to be contagious as Arthur breaks out in a smile, though he’s still busy sketching. “It’s alright. I’m almost finished anyway.” It takes a few more minutes for him to put the finishing touches on his masterpiece. Once he deems it finished, he stands up and goes back over to her.

“Let me see it,” she requests impatiently, making grabby hands at him before he even gets to her.

He sits down beside her then finally hands the book over. “Whatcha think?”

She laughs at first as soon as she looks at the page. The picture isn’t anything like what she thought it would be. Instead of the careful pose that she had thought would look best (and failed to do), Arthur had chosen to capture the way she looked trying not to laugh. Her shoulders are hunched slightly, one hand trying to cover her smiling mouth and the other is laying across her stomach. “Is that really what I looked like?”

“As best as I could get it,” he replies gently. “I like the way you look when you laugh.”

She smiles up at him. “Really?”

He tucks a lock of her hair that had fallen out of its pin behind her ear. “Yeah.”

She leans forward to kiss him, though the smile never leaves her lips. When she pulls back, she looks down at the journal still in her hands. “How many pictures of me do you got in this thing?” she asks teasingly as she hold the leather bound book up.

Arthur’s cheeks redden before he can answer. “A few.”

“Can I see them? I remember asking once before and you told me you would at some point. But you never have,” she remarks, continuing her teasing tone.

He clears his throat nervously. “Uh. Sure.” Taking the book from her, he flips through a few pages to find one of his better drawings. “Here’s one.” 

Instead of taking the book from him, she leans over him, practically laying her head on his shoulder. The drawing depicts her sitting at the small desk in their room as she writes in her own book. She’s only in her nightgown, so she figures Arthur must have drawn it early one morning.

“I like it,” she comments cheerily. “Though you could’ve asked me to brush my hair first,” she jokes, referring to her rather bushy looking tresses.

He flips through more pages quickly, trying to find another good one. In the process, he skips over one that he’s a little embarrassed about, hoping that Emmeline wouldn’t notice it. Despite his speed, she catches a glimpse of it and sets her hand over his, stopping his motion.

“What was that one?”

“Weren’t nothin’.” He tries to flip though more pages, but Emmeline’s hand doesn’t budge.

“Arthur.” She looks over to him and he relents, allowing her to flip back a few pages to see what caught her eye.

Emmeline can tell the picture is definitely of her, seeing as she can see a lot of herself. She’s laying down on her side in their shared bed in Shady Belle, a thin blanket draped over her hips, only partly covering her lower half. Her torso is completely bare, with both her hands tucked underneath her cheek. Her hair is loose and unkempt, though there is an ethereal quality to it. The prominent shadows on her body indicate that Arthur had more than likely drawn the picture by lantern light late at night and it was probably quite recently.

She looks over to him, but he’s looking away, obviously embarrassed that he was caught with the risqué drawing. 

“Arthur,” she repeats, trying to get him to look at her. 

“I’m sorry, Emmeline,” he responds, still not looking up. “You just looked so- I don’t usually draw things like this,” he stutters out, obviously flustered.

She takes his chin in her hands and pulls his face up to finally look at her. When he sees her softly smiling face, he’s a little confused. 

He blinks a few times before saying anything. “You ain’t mad at me? For drawin’ ya like that?”

“No, Arthur. I like the way you draw me. And I like the way you see me. It makes me feel wanted. Loved.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Besides, if I didn’t want you to see me disrobed, I wouldn’t do it in front of you.”

He smiles bashfully as his cheeks redden more. “I suppose that’s good to know.”

“However...” she takes the journal out of his hands, “I think it’s only fair that I get to draw you, too.” She opens it to a blank page and pulls the pencil from the binding, ready to start drawing. 

Arthur shakes his head. “You don’t wanna put my ugly face on the page.”

“You ain’t ugly, Mr. Morgan ,” she asserts with a smile. “How any times do I have to tell you that?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at her with a sheepish smile. “A few more times wouldn’t hurt.”

As they continue to look at each other, she finds it hard to think anyone would ever call him ugly, let alone himself. To her, he’s the most handsome man she’s ever seen and she can’t fathom there’s a better looking one out there.

She leans forward to give him a sweet kiss. “If there was a set of them cigarette cards for handsome men, you’d be number one.”

He throws his head back and laughs heartily, thinking the sentiment funny. When he looks back down, he’s ready to refute her claim, but she’s quick to shut him up with another kiss. This time, it doesn’t stay a sweet peck on this lips. The privacy of where they are spurs them both on to deepen the kiss, but both of them are unaware that someone is approaching.

“Ahem,” the unmistakable voice of Dutch Van Der Linde calls out from behind them.

Both Emmeline and Arthur back away from each other quickly and turn their heads to the older man.

“Hello, Dutch,” Emmeline calls out, hoping to get past the awkwardness of the situation. “Do you need something?”

“Arthur,” Dutch answers with a wave of his hand. “Come with me. I think we got a job.”

Arthur stands without a moment’s hesitation, then helps Emmeline to her feet. “Sure. What is it?”

Dutch quirks his head in the direction of the house. “We’ll discuss it back at camp.”

As the three of them walk back, Arthur can’t help but be excited. Even though he’s been more than happy to settle down a bit and get away from the outlaw jobs, there’s that part of him perking up that Dutch is asking him for help again. He’s actually more excited about the prospect of Dutch counting on him than doing whatever job he has lined up. Despite everything that’s happened over the last few months, Arthur can’t change the fact that there’s still a deep seeded need to have Dutch’s approval. That hasn’t changed since he was in his teen years. It’s what has made him such a good gunslinger, brawler, and rider. All those years wanting to hear “Good job, son” from Dutch have shaped the man he is today.

As the men continue on to the house, they part ways with Emmeline as she heads to the tents to help Tilly with the laundry. Once the men turn into what was the dining room, Arthur sees Lenny sitting at the old wooden table, apparently waiting for them to arrive.

Dutch holds his arm out to Lenny. “Our boy here has come to us with what has the potential to be a big score,” he explains enthusiastically. “It’ll be enough to finally get us out of here,” he adds wistfully.

Arthur doesn’t take a seat, but rather leans his shoulder on the nearby archway, facing Lenny. “So what’s this job?”

Lenny clears his throat and leans forward on the table before starting. “I was in Saint Denis waiting for the girls when I overheard some of the cops talking. One of them said he was being moved to patrol near the bank because they just moved a bunch of money from all over the state and stored it in the vault. He said they’re trying to keep it quiet so far, since they‘re waiting to get some military men in to guard it. Right now, there’s just a few extra policemen walking the street.”

Arthur listens to the young man eagerly at first, but the more he says, the more suspicious Arthur gets.

“See?” Dutch jumps in once Lenny has finished. “It’s an easy job. A bunch of money laid out for the taking,” he says gleefully. “It’s the perfect score .”

Arthur finally pushes himself off the wall and walks closer to the table. “I don’t know, Dutch. It seems real risky.”

“There’s no risk if we hit it soon, before they call in reinforcements,” Dutch explains pointedly. He had hoped that Arthur would fall in line on this without question like he used to. 

Arthur shakes his head, looking away from the leader. “Don’t it seem too easy? Too perfect?” He shakes his head. “And I remember more ‘n once Hosea tellin’ me the perfect score don’t exist.”

Dutch can’t hold back the look of disdain in his face. “That was when you was young and dumb, coming to us with jobs you’d need twenty men to pull off!” He lets out a huff, then wipes his hand down his face to calm himself. “This ain’t like that. We’ve caught the law unawares before. They can make mistakes.”

“I know they can, but this just seems too convenient, Dutch,” Arthur asserts. “Not too long ago, Sean and Bill overheard a rumor about them taking all the money out of the Saint Denis bank in a train. They wanted to hit it, but I said no. It seemed like a setup to me. Like the Pinkertons was layin’ a trap just for us. Now we overhear that all kinds of money is just sitting in the bank with no one guarding it?” He lets out a huff. “Don’t that seem like an awful big coincidence? Like, we didn’t take the bait the first time so they’re tryin’ again?”

Dutch glares at Arthur for a moment before he turns to Lenny. “Will you give us a moment?”

Lenny looks between the two men before standing from his chair. “Sure, Dutch,” he replies, a little confused before heading to the door.

Once he leaves, Dutch turns back to Arthur. “When exactly did this happen?”

“What?” Arthur asks, not sure why that’s really important. 

“When did Sean and Bill come to you with that job?” Dutch almost growls out. 

“When you was...” he trails off, not knowing what to really say. 

“When I was what ?” Dutch presses. 

“It was right after we got here. You wasn’t yourself, Dutch.” He can see the rage start to build behind the older man’s eyes. “I didn’t wanna bother you with it so I told them to back off from it.” When Dutch’s face seems to drop more, Arthur adds, “Look, that ain’t important. What’s important is us not fallin’ for this trap.”

“You think you know better than me, Arthur? What’s wrong with you?”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me.”

“Then where’s your faith in me?”

“I got faith in ya, Dutch. I just don’t wanna get killed.”

Dutch lets out a huff, but he tries to steady himself. “We’ll be fine . We always are,” he tries to convince the younger man.

Arthur shakes his head. “There just too much to risk.”

“What are you talking about?! We ain’t got nothing ! Food in our bellies, but that’s it . And that won’t last! Especially if we have to winter here.” He goes over to Arthur and lays both hands on his shoulders. “We should have more . We could have more with this score.”

Arthur shakes his head again. “I can’t...”

“Why not? You’ve never had a problem before. You were always the one I could count on,” he tries to persuade, thinking he has Arthur on the hook. 

“It ain’t...” He lets out a heavy breath, his mind conflicted. 

Dutch thinks he has him, though. Arthur never was too hard to convince. Sure, there were maybe a few times that the younger man had some doubts, but Dutch always knew what to say to get him on board with whatever he wanted. He figures he only has to say a few more words before Arthur jumps on board. “Come on, son.” He pats him on the cheek. “Once we got the money to get out of this godforsaken place, it’ll be like old times again. But in Tahiti . We’ll make a new life there. A better one. But we need this money for that to happen. It’s the only way, Arthur.”

Arthur stares at the man for a moment, thinking it all over. He could easily say yes, like he’s done a thousand times before. Dutch was always much smarter than him. He always led the gang straight before. Without Micah around, that is. And Micah isn’t here, so maybe Dutch really does know better. But Arthur can’t seem to ignore the feeling of dread in his chest. 

Dutch sees the wheels turn behind Arthur’s eyes. Just as he’s is sure that Arthur is going to relent, the younger man says, “I’m gonna be a father, Dutch.”

Dutch instantly takes his hands off of him and takes a step back. 

Arthur continues despite Dutch’s reaction. “Emmeline... We’re gonna have a baby. And I don’t wanna get myself killed. I never cared much about it before; I never mattered. But I can’t leave her alone with a baby on the way. I can’t Dutch. I can’t take that risk. This job... it could lead to the rope. Easily.”

Dutch takes another step back but doesn’t say anything. 

Arthur still continues. “I ain’t really sure what we should do for money, but I know robbin’ the bank in Saint Denis ain’t how we should do it. Even if it ain’t a trap, they gonna know it was us after and the Pinkertons will be right on our tail. We’d hafta move again. And I don’t know where-“

Dutch suddenly lurches forward and swings at Arthur with all his might, punching him hard in the temple. It easily sends the younger man to the floor. Dazed, Arthur can’t even try to stand up before Dutch heaves him off the floor by the back of his collar and drags him to the front door. 

“What are you-“ is all Arthur gets out before he’s thrown off the front porch and onto the ground outside the house, catching everyone’s attention. 

“Arthur,” Dutch calls out to the gathering people, “has decided to leave us!”

“What?!” Arthur groans as he tries to right himself. He’s only vaguely aware of the gasps and murmurs of the rest of the gang around him.

“He will be leaving immediately!” Dutch further explains. “He doesn’t want to be a part of our family anymore!”

Everyone looks on in confusion, including Arthur. 

“I never said that!” he tries, but Dutch yells over him. 

“He thinks he’s better than us!”

As soon as Emmeline rounds the house and comes upon the scene, she rushes over to Arthur, seeing that he’s unsteady in his feet as he’s still feeling the effects of the powerful blow to the head that Dutch delivered. “What’s going on?” she calls out once she reaches him. 

Before Arthur can answer, Dutch does. “Emmeline, come here.”

She doesn’t move from Arthur as she examines the blooming bruise on his cheekbone. “Are you alright?”

“Emmeline!” Dutch tries again. This time he’s successful in getting her to look at him. “Come here.”

She looks away from him and back to Arthur, her worry for the man outweighing everything else. “Are you alright?”

“Listen to your father!” Dutch booms and everyone’s eyes snap to him. “Say goodbye, darling,” he says more sweetly. “Arthur’s leaving.”

“What? No. If he leaves, I’m leaving, too,” she announces defiantly. 

Without hesitation, Dutch lunges forward and grabs Emmeline’s arm, harshly pulling her over to him. “I said come here!”

Arthur retaliates automatically, throwing his own fist into Dutch’s nose. It sends the older man reeling, but he doesn’t fall to the ground. Before Arthur can wind up again, Dutch pulls the pistol from his holster and points it right at Arthur’s head. 

Everyone, including Arthur is frozen in shock. He’s had a lot of guns pointed at his head, but none of them were being held by someone he thought he could trust with his life. 

“You gonna shoot me , Dutch?” Arthur almost whispers. “After everything I’ve done for you?”

“Leave,” Dutch spits back. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”

When Arthur doesn’t move to leave, Dutch tenses minutely. Before he can do anything he might regret, Hosea finally steps between the two men, in front of the gun, though he’s facing Arthur. 

“You need to leave,” he says calmly to the younger man, knowing that the situation will only escalate if Dutch and Arthur remain in the same place. “Take Emmeline with you.”

Dutch doesn’t object, but rather, holsters his gun and turns away to start walking back into the house. Before he gets to the door, he calls over his shoulder, “Emmeline, when you come to your senses and leave him, you’ll be welcomed back. You always will. You’re family .” With that, he walks through the door and into the house calmly, like nothing had even happened. 

Arthur can’t even say anything, like his brain is two steps behind. It’s not until Hosea pats his chest that he snaps back to reality. 

Once Hosea has Arthur’s attention, he starts to speak. “It’ll only be a few days. I’ll talk some sense into him and we’ll come to bring you back.”

“I told him,” is all Arthur can say.

Hosea nods, though, knowing what he means. “He’s still not right, Arthur. I’ll talk to him while you’re gone.”

“But-“ Arthur starts, but Hosea doesn’t let him protest. 

“You and Emmeline need to leave now,” he insists. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

Still thoroughly confused, Arthur just nods, not wanting to fight it. When he looks over to Emmeline, she has tears in her eyes. She has no idea why Dutch kicked Arthur out, but she knows that she’ll never leave Arthur’s side. When she wordlessly takes his hand in her own, he realizes it, too. 

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