#cowbians

I do have a ref sheet of her, but this drawing holds a special place in my heart. Especially since I’m a sucker for song inspired art. ‘People are strange’ by the doors is absolutely a banger in the context of the queer Wild West. She’s got a whole playlist that’s been carefully curated over the past two years.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4pDdGazCHg74q4tdMOp8LU?si=udm-veC2R3q4F4zaOQUWSA&pi=GZJMR5gsRZeod

Technically I’ve had Lydia since I first played rdr2 a little over 2 years ago, but she’s a cowboy and a lesbian, so I feel like it fits the criteria lmfao. Plus I’m obsessed with the cowbians, and have sort of integrated them as just- part of red dead lore at this point. So they get to all exist in the same universe officially now 🤝

A bit of her backstory:

A child born out of wedlock, she lives with her mother on a ranch just east of Colter. Her mother is a ‘ranch hand’ for the owner, who is really just a close family friend who had taken pity on her when she became pregnant. Lydia grows up helping around the ranch, trying to prove herself through grit and tenacity. Her quick tongue and ‘unruly’ behavior gets her in trouble often.

When she’s 17, a small up and coming gang makes its way through Colter, and their ranch. When a shootout ends up killing her mother and burning a large amount of the property, Lydia decides to flee with whatever she can pack onto her horse.

Spending most of her remaining youth traipsing from town to town, she travels all across New Hanover and West Elizabeth; searching for any kind of work. She quickly learns how to swindle and con unsuspecting folks for a living. Her favorite? Poker and black jack. Batting your eyelashes really does distract from a quick sleight of hand.

Growing a bit too comfortable in her new skills, she begins to set her eyes on bigger goals. Real robberies and thefts. Drowning in naivety and hubris, she gains a sizable bounty after a couple of messy train robberies. Now on the run for real, she has a run in with the Van Der Linde gang while they’re camping at horseshoe overlook.

She spends almost two years with the gang. During that time she meets a woman (Willow) and eventually splits off from the gang to settle down with her. The two of them purchasing a small cabin and plot of land in the north eastern grizzlies. They marry and live in that cabin raising sheep and goats until Lydia eventually dies of heart disease at the ripe old age of 81.

Her story has always been symbolically linked with a black coyote. Traditionally symbolizing cunning, adaptability, and shapeshifting. For sure that is her animal counterpart and I’m obsessed with the idea of literal shapeshifting rather than just narrative overtones.

Lydia is an Aries sun, Cancer moon, Gemini ascendant. Chaotic neutral.

Just as another little add on (because I’ve got a shit ton of art lmao) here’s a pic of Lydia and Willow. Willow is an Afro-Indigenous woman who was part of the Pawnee tribe (in the middle of Nebraska/where Valentine is based off of) before they were run off their land.

(Also based on the song ‘Lady May’ but specifically the Maggie Antone version.)

“the usual?” rio, one of the bartenders at the bar asks.

“yeah, n’ gimme two of em.” you mumble back.

rio shakes her head as she pours two glasses of whiskey out for you.

“long day?” she smiled.

“i think that’s an understatement.” you scoffed.

“tell me about it, hon. i got all day.”

before you could answer her, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. it felt as if the bar had gotten slightly quieter, but it hadn’t.

“y/l/n.” the smirk that crept up agatha harkness’ face was evident in her tone of voice. it sent a shiver up your spine. you could feel her before you saw her.

“agatha.” you replied. she stopped in her tracks at the use of her first name.

“and what gives you the right to call me that, doll?” she smirks, and your breath hitches as you feel her breath graze your cheek.

“what have i gotta address you like my superior now, harkness, is that what this is?”

“who the hell do you think you’re talking to, whippersnapper?” she spat.

you had to laugh. a loud cackle, right in her face, “i’m not afraid of you, agatha.”

“oh yeah?” she replied, staring you down before she turned on her heel to leave. as she walked away she hesitated, before turning around once more and spitting at you. and that did it.

before you even knew what you were doing, your hand had collided with her jaw. she gasped at the impact before grabbing at a chunk of your hair, attempting to drag you around by it. she was pulling so hard that it felt as if she was going to tear off your scalp.

you let out a quiet whine at the pain, and agatha lost her focus slightly, her grip on your hair loosening and her composure faltering. you took your chance and booted her hard, right in the stomach. the impact caused her to lose her balance snd stumble to the floor, but she wasn’t even down for five seconds. she leapt up almost immediately and threw herself at you, slamming you into the bar. you yanked the back of her hair hard, so hard that you were pretty sure you saw a whole chunk fall out, and she let out a loud yell in pain.

then , you had her on the floor, pressing her shoulder, hard, into the rotting wooden floor. there was dirt on her face and her eyes were tearing up from the pain.

“tap out anytime you want, agatha.” you smirked, acting as if holding her down on the floor was nothing, when it was, in fact, taking all of your strength.

your stomach dropped slightly when agatha let out a humorless chuckle, before flipping you over and pulling you to your feet by the collar of your shirt, she was gripping the shirt so hard that it had begun to restrict your breathing. she forced you back against one of the pillars in the bar with three strong strides, before her hand slid slowly up around your neck, squeezing lightly. you let out a strangled sound, but agatha didn’t react. she was too busy searching for something on her belt. then it hit you. her gun.

she unholstered it swiftly and within seconds she had began to slowly drag it along your chest.

“you wouldn’t dare.” you smirked, mustering whatever you could of your fake confidence.

“oh, but i would.” she smirked, dragging the gun up your neck and onto your face. as the gun neared your mouth, you realised the severity of the situation.

“agatha…”

“back out any time you want, pet.” she giggled, pressing the gun hard into your cheek, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips.

before you had the chance to, a loud voice filled the room.