#HAPPY ARTHUR'S DEMISE DAY

[eliounora]

the running sands recall the time when love was lord of all

[myanxietydemonaretootired]

Happy Arthur's Demise day!!

Reminder that Arthur's destiny was never to rule over Camelot but to die for it. It was Gwen's destiny to make it shine and bring peace between magic users and non magic.

[mediocrecowboyhat]

Set in sand - Chapter 2

We mark the year 1934 and a peculiar journal falls into your hands. It's telling the tale of an outlaw and the downfall of a gang. Some pages are torn and others are downright unreadable, but nevertheless, you are still able to make out some parts of the tragic story.

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to safe the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

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Word count: 2768

Disclaimer: This is based on the side quest "Geology for Beginners" so the reader is from the future and aware of some things that happen, but not everything. The reader will also have she/her pronouns and this fanfiction follows the story of RDR2. Also English is not my first language so pls forgive me for any grammatical mistakes!

TW: end-game spoilers will be mentioned very early on in the story, 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, violence, gore, death, misogynistic themes (anything that happens in the game as well)

It's an early morning for you. A cold morning just like the one before and the one before that. Everyday seems to be the exactly the same. You wake up, sit by the fire most of the time with the others and get work given to you by Miss Grimshaw every now and then.

The tasks are a welcome distraction from the fact that you all are just sitting ducks while slowly dying of starvation, but unfortunately they don't last that long. The others don't seem too happy with this situation either.

Every face you look at has the same miserable frown on it and while you don't have a mirror on you, you're pretty sure you got that expression by now as well.

In the corner of your eye you see a woman with dark hair approach you with a young boy following closely behind her.

"Hey.", she greets you and you offer her a smile. You see her around a lot and her name appears in Arthur's journal every now and then. Abigail.

"I haven't properly thanked you for helping John. He can be a moron sometimes, but...you know..."

As you stand up from the crate you're sitting on, you place your hand on her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze.

"It's okay. You don't have to thank me for anything."

She returns your smile and before any of you can say another word the front door of the house is being swung open. Miss Grimshaw is standing in the doorway and waves you over to her. Ah, another welcoming distraction.

The moment you take a step out, a wooden bucket is being shoved into your arms and she motions towards the woods.

"We need you to get some water from the river. Arthur and Charles brought home some game so Mr. Pearson needs all the help he can get to prepare dinner."

"Sure thing, Miss Grimshaw.", you yell over your shoulder while fighting your way through the snow towards the river.

It's a clear and sunny day. No snowstorm, no clouds, no wind. Those are your favorite days and picking up water by yourself is one of your favorite jobs. The walk takes a while so you take the opportunity to clear your head a bit.

Sure, you don't mind talking to the others, but it's still tough to be the new person. There is a certain suspicion hanging in the air, but you don't take it too personally. These people have a lot of enemies and you gotta be cautious with folk in this line of work you suppose.

No one has really told you why they're on the run and you only pick up some bits and pieces here and there when you overhear people talking. Some riverboat job that went wrong in a place called Blackwater is the only thing you know so far and that they lost some people.

You try to avoid eavesdropping and snooping around too much to not attract any negative attention this early on. Obviously you can't make everyone in the gang like you, but keeping a neutral reputation shouldn't be that hard.

Some of the freezing riverwater splashes on your hands and arms as you submerge the bucket, but you're almost used to that by now. This life out here is rough. Rougher than you could have imagined.

You have read a few westerns and seen a couple plays that set in the wild west and both of them tend to romanticize this lifestyle. To struggle is something you had expected when Francis sent you away, but you didn't think that every single day was gonna be a fight for survival.

From the distance you spot Arthur's blue coat at Mr. Pearson's makeshift cooking station. He is in the process of hanging up a skinned deer and you pick up your pace, careful not to spill any water.

There hasn't been any good opportunity to have a proper conversation with Arthur the past couple of days. Actually, now that you think of it, the day where they found John and you was the first and last time you have exchanged words with him at all.

It's strange considering he's the whole reason why you're doing all this. With a grunt you place the bucket on a table and hold your hands over the fire.

The watersplashes from earlier have seeped through the material of your gloves and it feels like something is cutting into your hands. Your eyes fall on the second deer that Arthur places on the with blood covered counter.

"I didn't know you were such a skilled hunter, Mr. Morgan.", you comment in an attempt to strike up a conversation.

Showing some appreciation might make him open up a little to you.

"Ah, you should thank Charles. He did all the trackin'. All I did was shoot it."

Grunts fill the air as he cuts open the deer and removes the skin. His hands move with a certain confidence that indicates that he has done this a million times before. You have never witnessed a deer being skinned, but watching Arthur do it is almost fascinating.

A metal pot is being shoved into your hands and you're being ripped out of your thoughts once again. Mr. Pearson takes a swig from the whisky bottle in his hand. Half his mustache is drenched in alcohol and you grimace at the sight.

"Heat up the water.", he commands gruffly and flumps down on one of the crates.

---

Thanks to the game that Charles and Arthur caught you get to sleep with a full stomach for the first time in days. All in all the luck seems to be turning in general.

Dutch took some of the boys to rob an O'Driscoll camp and they had stumbled upon plans to rob a train. Everyone seems pretty psyched about this except for one person.

"I thought we were supposed to lie low, Dutch."

Hosea has his hands on his hips as he looks at the gang leader with furrowed eyebrows.

"And we will once we have some money.", Dutch responds in a matter of fact way.

Your eyes fall on Arthur who is standing a few feet away, leaned against a wall with his back and a cigarette tucked between his lips. You join to stand next to him and watch the two bickering men.

"So after you guys do this train job, we'll leave this mountain?", you ask with your voice laced with curiosity.

"That's the plan.", Arthur answers plainly. It doesn't seem like he's in the mood to talk at the moment, but then again he never seems to be.

Everything about him, from his appearance to his tone, makes him come off as the most unapproachable man you have ever met. It's a vast contrast to how he sounds in his journal, but you guess it makes sense.

He doesn't strike you as the type to act like best buddies with a stranger like yourself.

"Are you excited?", you ask to keep the conversation going and turn your head to look at him.

His gaze is fixed at something in the distance and he takes a deep breath from his cigarette.

"I guess."

You try to mask the disappointment that is swelling up inside you. These short sentenced answers are surely frustrating.

"Where will we head to next?"

Arthur shoots you a quick side glance before throwing his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it.

"Hell if I know. Hosea mentioned somethin' about a town called Valentine I think. Never heard of it though."

"I can't wait to be amongst people again. Maybe even see some friendly faces for a change. No offense of course."

An amused huff escapes out of Arthur's throat and it gives you a sense of victory.

"None taken.", he answers. "We're not really the friendliest bunch out there."

You let out a soft chuckle and trace a pattern into the snow with your foot.

"But I do honestly think that you guys are quite nice. Aside from the whole law breaking stuff that is."

"Law breakin' stuff?", he repeats with yet another amused noise. "That's a mild way of puttin' it, I guess."

Before you can say a response, Dutch is already calling out to Arthur and waving him over. It looks like they're going to head out for the train job now.

"Good luck with your law breaking stuff, Mr. Morgan.", you say with your lips curled up into a smirk.

His expression is blank as he looks at you, but you don't fail to notice the delighted gleam in his eyes.

"Thanks and call me Arthur, will ya?"

With these words, he mounts his horse and follows the others out of the settlement. The short talk with him fills you with a feeling of triumph. Finally you had managed to grow a bit closer to him.

It doesn't feel like you can call each other friends just yet, but at least you're on a first name basis now. A win is a win and you're happy to take it.

The rest of the day goes by painfully slow as everyone awaits the return of the men who headed out to rob the train. You take the opportunity to walk out to the river again since it looks like this might be your last time.

With thoughtful eyes, you take in the white scenery before you with the crystal clear water and the snowy trees. The temperature has picked up a bit this morning so it doesn't quite feel as if your toes could be falling off any minute.

Your hand slides into the hidden pocket inside your thick winter coat and your finger tips come into contact with a smooth, cool surface. It's a cylinder made out of copper with rounded edges.

There is a slit around it that is so narrow, not even a fingernail can be pushed through. You recall Francis' instructions while you fidget the object in your hand.

-

"You have to push the lid down to be able to unscrew it. It's so it doesn't accidentally fall off and you push the button.", Francis explains and hands the small device to you.

It's fascinating how something barely the size of your hand could allow you to travel through time. Everything about it feels so surreal.

"It will send you right back here only ten minutes after your department.", he adds and you secure it inside your winter coat.

"And it's a one way ticket, you said?"

"Yes. This device only works once."

The prospect of losing that thing fills you with worry, but the two of you have come up with a plan B in case that happens. You'll always be able to send Francis a letter and then he'll simply pick you up. It would be a hassle, but not impossible.

"You said you'd return right after you prevent him from talking to this Thomas Downes?"

You nod. A big chunk of that encounter is missing in the journal so you don't know exactly how Arthur got infected. That detail doesn't matter though, as long as you make sure they don't interact at all.

-

The next morning you are being awoken by the sound of horses galloping and joyful cheering. After shaking off the initial disorientation and confusion you finally recognize your surroundings.

It's still Colter and it's still 1899. A deep sigh escapes your lips and you stumble out of the run down cottage, past the other gang members. Dutch and the others are standing in the middle of the settlement and you walk towards them.

"Quite the lively welcoming committee we got here!", the leader exclaims with a loud laugh and you stifle a yawn.

"So it went well, I assume?", Miss Grimshaw asks behind you.

"Well? It went fantastic!"

More and more people step outside to hear the good news.

"It would have gone even better if Bill hadn't messed up the explosion.", Arthur grumbles, earning a venomous glare from the man.

"Enough, gentlemen!", Dutch chimes in before an argument between the two men could break out. "Everyone, pack your things! We are leaving immediately."

Everyone got busy the moment he finished his sentence and you hurry back to your sleeping spot to pack up your own belongings. Your bag has gotten way lighter over the course of the last weeks and it's a strange feeling to own so little.

Unfortunately you're not given much time to reminisce about your home back in your own time.

"What are you doing here, sitting around? Move!" Ah yes, Miss Grimshaw can be quite the tyrant when she wants to and it's terrifying.

Being verbally abused by her is definitely not a rarity, but it is kind of comforting to know that she treats most of the camp that way. Initially you thought she only had a problem with you until you caught her give Karen the scolding of a lifetime.

After throwing your bag over your shoulders, you look around to see who might need help. That's when you spot Sadie Adler on the other side of the cabin, struggling to tie ropes together.

Abigail had told you that Arthur, Dutch and Micah had found her almost right before they found you and John. You feel pity when you think about what the O'Driscolls had done to her and her husband. Pity and disgust.

What kind of animals would do such things? The thought alone turns your stomach upside down and you join Sadie's side.

"Let me do this.", you offer with a soft tone. Her hands are shaking.

"I know how to tie a knot, goddammit.", she immediately protests and you take her trembling hands in yours.

"I know."

You lock eyes with her for a split second before she pulls away from your hold and leaves through the front door.

It barely takes an hour until everything is packed up and stored onto the wagons. You have to give it to them. These people know how to be quick and efficient when it comes to leaving as fast as possible. They must be used to that by now, you guess.

Your gaze wanders from one wagon to another as everyone climbs onto them and you're not sure which one you should hop on. Then you see a flash of blue in the corner of your eyes.

"You can ride with us. There is space in the back."

You give Arthur a thankful smile which he only returns with a nod and you heave yourself onto the back of his wagon. Hosea is sitting at the front next to him and greets you with a quick wave of his hand.

The ride off the mountain is bumpy, but at least the snow and freezing temperatures are behind you now.

"Careful now, Arthur. Try to get us out of the stream.", Hosea says as you ride through a river.

You let out a startled noise when the wagon suddenly tips to the side and the wheel comes off. Now you know why the ride has been so painfully bumpy this entire time. This will probably leave a bruise or two on your ass, but nothing too devastating.

"What happened?", someone further ahead yells and Arthur throws up his arms in frustration.

"Ah, I broke the goddamn wheel!"

Soon enough Charles jogs over and the three men get to attaching the wheel back to the wagon. By the looks of it, it doesn't seem like they're in need of your assistance at all so you decide not to get in the way of things.

The rest of the ride goes by rather smoothly. No wheels are falling off, no wild animals are attacking you out of nowhere and most importantly there is now cold wind cutting through your clothes.

While Hosea talks about Valentine and the area, you just lean back with your eyes closed and relish in the warm rays of the sun. You don't even notice that you're dozing off until someone shakes you awake by the shoulder.

A pair of blue eyes stare back at you as you blink your sleep away.

"Get up. We're here.", Arthur says and you stumble off the wagon.

You find yourself standing at a cliff side and the sight is practically knocking the air out of your lungs. Trees and mountains as far as the eye can see. You take off your gloves and brush some hair strands out of your face.

This place isn't too bad.

[mac-ann-cheese]

Happy Halloween! ₍⁠₍⁠ ⁠◝⁠(⁠　ﾟ⁠∀⁠ ﾟ⁠ ⁠)⁠◟⁠ ⁠⁾⁠⁾

Tbh, 2010s halloween outfits kinda slap. Newer ones are spectacular too, don't get me wrong!! However I prefer those, something in them is just nostalgic.

Behind the cut is crazy amount of words.

Sooo, I wouldn't put it as a big and detailed au, but some thoughts behind my drawing: I drew my ideas from fanfic/comic (don't actually remember), where Francis sort of died in Arthur's typical vampire castle and became a ghost, and I focused on more what had happened before that.

It's the 18th century, unindentified place. Francis, an heir to a generic grand fortune, spends his life (and money) on pointlessly expensive parties. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he discovers that he got chronically ill-ed by fate, cause she didn't like his way of living. Maybe the plague got him or tuberculosis, something, that can't be fully cured at that time. Of course, this unpleasant finding shakes up the whole world for Francis and... actually nothing changes. "I'm still going to die, why to waste time on lamenting?", - he probably thought, partially accepting his demise. But people drew away from him, as you know, sickness are easily spread. The only way for him having fun was closed. Nobody would invite or let him in social events even for loads of money. And that's the reason behind searching for someone who could genuinely stand to have him around.

Like any unnamed cities do, there is always a guy who lives on the outskirts of the town for a mysterious reason... Nobody knew that Arthur is a vampire, however he acted little bit on the unusual side in the public, so no one liked to tolerate him enough to communicate with. Being already a pretty unlucky man overall and having NO friends makes Arthur to long for any mortal (or not) soul to talk to. Maybe he will try not eating them first before deciding to have a chit chat.

And by logic of any wonderful universe, the seekers found each other.

Getting turned away at another late party, Francis bumps in Arthur, who was lurking for unfortunate drunkard around the place. "Um, mister," , - Francis probably wondered out loud, - "why are you hiding behind that pillar? Wait, don't turn away, I've seen you", - as a response he gets only cat-like hisses. And then Francis makes another unpleasant discovery about himself - he is into whatever the fuck is going on with this guy in a goofy looking top hat and a coat. That fateful night Arthur got himself a literal follower.

With the fact of being known Arthur was annoyed for couple of days, but quickly overcome his aversion. It was nice to have someone around for the first time in centuries. Even though Francis's blood tasted repulsively sweet of his malady, it was way better than a beggar.

And Francis met a companion for endless conversation and hanging out. In the dark, sadly. On the other side, Arthur's got a castle... Francis doesn't have that much time left, but will get used to all that biting quirks and hate of the sun of his newfound friend (no, he won't get a slightest idea of connection to vampires. Poor him!).

[javierduffy]

I've been playing rdr2 myself recently and man. Sometimes I'd argue knowing what's coming is worse than going in blind. Started ch4 just the other day and as I watched the gang sing along to Cielito Lindo all I felt was a deep sense of pain knowing that this will be the last time the gang will ever be happy-- and even then the cracks are more apparent than ever, especially compared to Sean's return party. Sure, John is taking his first fumbling steps towards being a better father, but only 20 feet away Molly's mental health is in a downward spiral as she and Dutch argue, Karen (who's drinking more often than not these days) tries to get Kieran to join the party but he remains on the side, drinking by himself and not knowing this will be his demise, and even the singing from Uncle and Grimshaw seemed quieter. It especially sucked waking up in the morning and seeing Branwen gone :(

These cowboys have absolutely blindsided me I was NOT expecting to get so invested in them esp when the guy who I watched play 2 was either speeding thru the story or ramming himself into a tree at full throttle

UGH YES I UNDERSTAND 💔 as someone who has played the game 4/5 times now and has put 1100+ hours into it, i can attest that it hurts EXTRA bad knowing exactly what happens. can’t even enjoy the good times because you know rockstar is about to punish you for it 😭 !!!!

basically my number one priority during jack’s return party for the past 6 years since my first playthrough is following kieran around all night and trying to soak up as much of his company as possible before … The Incident … and even then, it’s so bittersweet. the entire thing is. hosea is the happiest he’s been in years, and a few missions later, he’s right back to begging dutch to spare all of their lives instead of making ridiculous calls. it’s beautiful when the VDL’s are allowed to set down the weight of their mortality’s for a moment, it makes them all human again. but jack’s party almost feels as if it’s … the opposite ? sean’s party was full of life, and everyone seemed so much lighter, like joy was easy. jack’s party, everyone is choosing joy, because they are almost hyperaware of their impending dooms. those who don’t believe they are going to die soon are only in denial, i don’t think anyone in that camp genuinely believes that the end is not nigh. it hangs over them like the thick air of the swamp they’ve ended up in, and some of them can’t stop drowning in it to manage to celebrate.

regarding john being a better father, it seems that the only person happy about it is arthur (excepting abigail, of course). dutch has always urged john to be better to his family, but now that john is actually committing to that, dutch, in his paranoid state, sees it as nothing but a threat to his authority. he begins to berate and threaten john about becoming a “family man”, so as to try and get his prized pony back. hosea is preoccupied with saving their lives, and he dies too soon to even really be able to see the fruits of any of john’s behavioral labor. and micah, of course, with his narrative that john is an enemy of dutch, and by extension the gang and himself, will not see john’s growth as positive, either. (i mean, he will, but only because it bolsters his leverage for a negative narrative on john that he can twist into dutch’s ear). everyone else is uninvested, especially when they’re all facing their own paths, and the seemingly inevitable ending of them. this is to say, they’re celebrating jack’s safe return, but the air about john’s character evolution is not explicitly seen as a positive thing throughout the gang. as the protagonist, arthur���s opinion on it and desire for it sways our own, but universally, it isn’t exactly celebrated in itself, so it also tends to drag the party down a little. it’s exciting for us ! but awkward and new, too, and it comes with a price of it’s own (john’s loyalty being brought into further question, and dutch trusting him less and less). everyone is terrified, and this change that is coming with this experience only adds to the unease.

if i get into how losing kieran matters so much, not only to me personally, but also as a pinnacle turning point of the story (not to say that his death necessarily matters to the story (unfortunately), but the events that unfold following it have an unprecedented impact on the gang), i will become very upset 💔 but i understand completely the heartbreak of the gap between the party and when you so choose to play “horsemen, apocalypses” ……… i understand it …… very well ……..

i hope you’re having as much fun as you can experiencing the story and the game for yourself, though ! it’s such a lovely experience, as heartbreaking and miserable as it can get (especially if you’ve played, or at least were aware of rdr1 first). it’s truly a once in a lifetime game, and just watching someone else play it could never compare to experiencing it yourself.

thank you for coming to chat with me as always !!!

[veryfancydoilies]

My Victoria Byng Headcanons (requested by Anonymous)

I am so sorry I took so long but they’re finally here! I really hope everyone likes them. If you want me to write headcanons for another character, you can but please understand they probably won’t come right away. Ideas just don’t always come to mind that easily. I’m already writing headcanons for Sally so stay tuned for that. I’m actually thinking of writing headcanons for Johnny Bolton so let me know if you want that. Anyways, enjoy and have a lovely day!

🥻Before she became a Downer, Victoria had the delusion that her mother was never imprisoned and was currently having a lovely time in India. She does speak of India from time to time and expresses the desire to visit, but thinking of it brings up painful memories. Partially at the behest of her father, she takes an huge amount of Joy to keep them away.

☎️She has lots of friends but is not particularly close to any of them. This is due to both her tendency to be a workaholic and the general shallowness of relationships between Wellies. This is the reason why she did not realize the full extent of Prudence's feelings toward her. Victoria liked Prudence a lot, believing her to be very talented but sadly, their bond was severed when Victoria told Prudence she suspected her of being a Downer. Shortly thereafter, Prudence vanished. After the events of We All Fall Down, I think Victoria would be very sad to hear of Prudence's demise. She's another name in the list of people whose lives were destroyed by Joy and Vicky holds a lot of guilt. Her role in Prudence's death makes it even sadder. I think they would have been good friends or even lovers.

📦Her home used to have artwork, books and memorabilia from India. She loved them but when she looked at them, they made her sad to the point where she started crying. She told her father about this and he gave her tea laced with Joy. He then hired someone to come into her home and take all of the things related to India.

📚Victoria sometimes hosts book club and women's club meetings at her home. Uncle Jack's three books about the war were the subject of some of the meetings. Looking back at this, Downer!Victoria, being a lover of history, would disparage the books as being terribly written and dull.

🤬Unlike the other potty-mouthed protagonists of We Happy Few, Victoria very rarely swears. Both of her parents, especially her aristocratic mother, made it a priority to install grace and elegance in their daughter. It takes an extreme amount of stress (and anger) to make Victoria swear as seen in the cutscene when Ollie forces her off Joy. Also, if Downer!Victoria ever swore, she would hear her mother curtly admonishing her so she refrains from it.

🪅Victoria's favorite Uncle Jack segments are Funny Old Customs and Famous Britons since she likes history albiet the sanitized version of history shown to Wellies. So unsurpisingly it was her idea to bring the piñata on the day Arthur went Downer. But of course since everyone is on Joy and have no idea they're just watching reruns, many many other piñatas have probably been smashed before the one we saw.

🧳In her post-Wellington Wells, I like to think that Vicky got involved in politics in some way or another. She of course has many regrets but her leadership skills would not fade. Also, she was probably a key witness of what happened in Wellington Wells and has written books and given interviews about it. Most survivors prefer to live as if it never happened.

@we-joyless-few @sea-side-scribbles @joyful-downer

[myth-blossom]

Hey, Mythy. I could use some... inspiration, you know? I don't want my Hitman hyperfixation to be over so maybe you could help a girl out?

I'm thinking a continuation of the Hitman bad ending chapter you did with Hayloft 2 but with the song Aftermath by Caravan Palace! Please and thank you ❤️

Hi Issy! I hope you enjoy this continuation of your bad ending inspired by that wonderfully chill and haunting tune. I set it after your Hayloft II song request fic as well as your Aftermath fic!

I hope it’s inspiring like you wanted ❤️ HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! 🥳

Some “Previously On” Context for Readers: 

Madeleine Burnwood (Issy’s OC, daughter of Diana and 47) was left behind on the train as serum-induced 47 was taken away by Arthur Edwards. Since then, she reunited with her mother to formulate a plan to get 47 back. 47 is sent after Madeleine but he spares her life and lies to Edwards about her demise before returning to Providence.

Madeleine knew well what her father was capable of. As the world’s greatest assassin, he was known for being cold, calculating, and efficient. If 47 was sent to kill someone, their demise was all but assured.

So why did she survive?

She replayed the moment over and over in her mind. She remembered her father approaching her, utterly menacing despite being calm and unarmed, ready to drop her over the balcony ledge at the Constant’s orders. Yet instead of falling to her death, she was dropped into the relative safety of a swimming pool below. 47 disobeyed Edwards and left Madeleine alive, lying that the kill was successful knowing full well it wasn’t. He left her to deal with the emotional aftermath as she made her escape, feeling shocked yet cautiously hopeful.

When Madeleine told Diana what happened, her mother struggled with her own mix of complicated emotions. She took a moment to hug Madeleine tightly, releasing her once she was convinced that her daughter was as well as she could be. Trauma notwithstanding, Madeleine was safe. For now, Providence thought she was dead and they would use that to their advantage.

They settled in with some tea and discussed what they learned from the encounter. Despite being injected with the serum, 47 hadn’t lost his memories. Or rather, he recognized Madeleine as someone he didn’t want to kill. Did Providence tell him who she was? Did he figure it out on his own? Would he recognize Diana and show her the same mercy he showed their daughter?

“Dad defied Edwards because of me,” Madeleine pointed out. “He might remember us if we spoke with him together. Maybe we could convince him to leave Providence.”

“It’s possible,” Diana murmured. Though the serum was first administered decades ago, 47 was able to recognize Lucas from their days at the Institute. It wasn’t until he received the antidote that he fully recalled his past. It was possible he could still retain some memory of their family now that he’d been drugged once more, or at the very least not be wholly committed to Providence. “But there’s still so much we don’t know, Madeleine. It would be incredibly dangerous.”

“I know, but it’s the best lead we have,” she shrugged. “I think it’s worth a try.”

Diana closed her eyes and took a deep breath to collect her thoughts. She could easily bait a trap so 47 would come after her, but Edwards would likely join him and hinder their plan with his presence. The Constant would undoubtedly have more planned for Diana than a simple bullet—he may even bring a team with him to assist with her extraction. Regardless, Diana wouldn’t allow Providence the chance to capture her. She refused to let Madeleine be without both of her parents.

After a moment of silence, she looked at Madeleine and nodded grimly. “Very well. But if we’re going to do this, it needs to be on our terms. We need to mitigate the risks as much as possible.” 

They decided to locate 47 first and attempt to get him alone before confronting him. They hoped to send him a message that only he would recognize, something inconsequential enough that the Constant wouldn’t become suspicious at his response. Unfortunately, the resources for locating 47 were few. The ICA was gone and Diana had no other contacts to enlist to track his location, or at least none that weren’t possibly compromised by an association with Providence. She feared their plan was over before it could begin.

“Well,” Madeleine began. “There is one person we could call—“

Diana shook her head. “I’m not sure she wants us contacting her anymore. She’s been through enough.”

“Do we have any other choice?” 

“No,” her mother sighed. “I suppose we don’t.”

———

Delriego directed Madeleine to a diner that had seen better days, its seats cracked and counters worn from decades of steady service. She noticed the coffee makers were older than she was as she scouted for cameras, confirming there were none to be found in the building. She respected its appeal for a hacker’s business meeting.

Madeleine walked to the back and slid into the green booth facing away from the entrance as Delriego instructed. She shook the rain from her coat but left her hood on, hoping she wouldn’t immediately be recognized and abandoned before she had the chance to speak. Though no one was actively smoking in the area, she recognized a familiar scent of tobacco lingering in the booth, the flavor reminiscent of the cigarettes Uncle Lucas smoked at the safehouse. Perhaps the diner held more value for its memories than its meetings.

The bell jingled above the entrance as a patron walked in, their wet shoes squeaking loudly towards the green booth. A backpack was gently tossed into the seat across the table before its owner settled in beside it. Madeleine lowered her hood as Delriego shook off the remnants of rain. When their eyes met, she froze. 

“I should’ve known it was you,” she muttered.

“Hi, Liv.”

“No,” Olivia said firmly, crossing her arms with a scowl. “Don’t ‘Hi Liv’ me. Whatever this is, the answer is no.”

“I wouldn’t be here if there was another option.” Madeleine folded her hands on the table. “Mom and I need your help.”

“Is that supposed to convince me? That hearts and flowers crap didn’t work out so well for Lucas,” she said bitterly.

Madeleine swallowed hard and looked down at her lap. “I’m so sorry, Olivia. Uncle Lucas, he…he didn’t deserve that.”

Olivia’s glare softened as a brief silence fell between them. Madeleine felt the familiar sting of tears in her eyes.

“For what it’s worth, I really miss him.”

“Yeah, well I…I really miss him, too.” Olivia shook her head and reached for her backpack before sliding out of the booth. “Take care of yourself, Madeleine.”

She steeled herself to leave and took a step forward, half-expecting Madeleine to reach out for her in stubborn protest. But Madeleine kept still as she spoke, the fear in her small voice giving Olivia pause.

“They have my dad.”

Olivia turned to face her, her expression unreadable.

“He’s in trouble, Liv,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice even. “And you’re the only person who can help us get him back.”

Olivia closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Madeleine sniffed and quickly wiped a stray tear from her cheek. She blinked in surprise as two menus were tossed onto the table.

“Liv, I…“

“Save it. You’re paying,” Olivia said as she slid into the booth. She pushed a menu over to Madeleine. “Food first, plan second.”

“…thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t mention it,” Olivia replied. “We’ll find your robot.”

Madeleine smiled, hope blooming in her chest.

“I know we will.”

[chocolatenyancat]

To Legion:

From: The Raven Man.

Raven Man/The Guest:

The Guest: You used to be so happy, but you didn't want the fame. So I took it away, and now you lost to a blue midget, and they've forgotten about you. Moved on, it's for the best, honestly. You're too old for being a wannabe God, and because you were forgotten at that. Arthur. How morbid, how childish... You don't need to become popular anymore! It was so sad, so pathetic. And if I'm not Derpy? What am I?

But me speaking aside, what is your favorite species of bird? Ravens? How did you end up here, did Raven Brooks call to you and draw you here with It's force within? Or was it greed to bring me to you, for your untimely demise. This town has been under my cult's control for years and, even though publicly they disappeared after being unmasked.

Do you have any followers, a cult following? Because it would be quite saddening, especially if you are an omnipotent God or a demon to not have friends, or followers. Who do ANYTHING to pledge their loyalty, doing what you want and seeking your favor. I would be very afraid, if I were the victims of your entourage escape in the Trollge Containment Foundation prison.

The Guest: They operate in the darkness, and aren't actually truly gone. Because, a snake in a cage is still a snake. And you can't kill a cockroach so very easily, like true ravens of the night. And operate below, in the catacombs, in the sewers. In crypts, in observatories, secret rooms. My army of supporters still stand strong, and follow my orders to a T. And stand strong to keep bad luck occuring. Maybe a car accident, maybe a fire, loss of objects or people you love. Or maybe a child's death. Maybe something as simple as mild illnesses of loved ones, or children. That never seemed to go away, day after day after day after day.

The Guest: Does it feel soothing to speak to an fellow entity who seeks to see the world burn?

Legion: yes its very soothing to talk to someone to see this world burn~..but alas.. I have no one to go to

[agentcable]

Chicago Fire Season 2 Ep. 6 "Joyriding"

Severide gets an unexpected visitor and bad news about his father. His day gets worse after he sees a boy trapped in an excavator during his morning jog. Mouch and Greg Sullivan, the union presidential candidate, argue in a debate. Arthur comes to bother Dawson at Molly's again. The rival bar Game Day is also in trouble. Boden is worried about Severide, but he's still angry with McLeod.

If you want to watch the series for yourself, stop reading! This post contains spoilers to the storyline.

Devon, hungover, bangs the coffee maker in frustration. Annoyed, Severide turns on the coffee maker and goes for a run. Benny's wife, Beth, asks Severide where Benny is. Her kids haven't seen their dad in months. Severide promises to look into it and calls Boden to tell him about the family issues. Clarke will cover him until he gets to the station. Severide leaves his car and wallet behind and heads out on a difficult run.

Devon goes to the firehouse looking for Shay. She wants him to take a break with her. A call comes in, and Shay invites Devon to go with her. A woman on bath salts is disturbing a convenience store. Devon can't help but laugh. The situation gets out of control, so Dawson and Shay have to restrain the woman. Dawson looks at Shay angrily, but Shay doesn't care. Their relationship isn't fixed.

Boden resigns from Firehouse 51 to save the house and get a big pension. He's not happy to find out Benny is his replacement. Benny says he didn't ask for the job, but Boden won't talk about it. He'll tell his firefighters next shift. Firehouse 17 is closed thanks to Boden.

Meanwhile, the police are looking at Herrmann, Otis, and Dawson as suspects in the fire at Game Day. They think the fire was started as part of an escalation of the rivalry between Molly's and Game Day. Angry, Gabby confronts Jay, who reveals he almost has enough evidence but tells her his plan. Gabby tells Otis and Herrmann that Jay is working undercover to arrest Arthur. The two are surprised to learn Jay is a cop and ask how long she knew. She says she learned recently and says Jay told her they need to provoke Arthur to get more evidence to arrest him.

Today is the vote for union president. Mouch is nervous. There's a live debate on Otis' podcast between Mouch and opponent Greg Sullivan. Six hundred firefighters are listening. Isabella is happy to hear Sullivan is being sued by his ex-wife for not paying child support. Mouch is uncomfortable using personal leverage. During the debate, Mouch gets angry when Sullivan insults Firehouse 51, but stays calm. The debate is a disaster. Only God can save Mouch's campaign. Mouch loses the union election.

Casey shows VIP guest Griffin around the firehouse. He'll be a firefighter today. Just as Casey shows the boy his room, the phone rings. Heavy metal sheets have fallen of a truck, pinning a woman and crushing her chest. The firefighters and Clarke work well together, and they save the woman quickly. The woman and her husband are taken to the hospital.

Dawson serves drinks until she sees Arthur sitting at the bar. Wary, Dawson notices Jay and another man. Arthur demands his money, but Dawson refuses. The encounter gets ugly when Arthur confesses to Game Day's demise. Once he throws the lighter onto the alcohol, Jay knows what to do. He hits the second henchman, but Arthur shoots Jay in the shoulder.

Arthur aims his gun at Dawson, but Jay presses his gun to Arthur's temple and demands he drop his weapon. Arthur won't stop, so Jay beats him with a gun. He also threatens the other man. He calls for help, which comes quickly. Antonio says Jay can work any department he wants, and he picks Intelligence. Gabby knows Jay loves undercover work, so it's over between them. She won't make him change, and she can't date a cop. Herrmann and the others arrive. Gabby says she saved the bar and Jay confirms.

Severide sees a backhoe-loader moving erratically in a deserted area. The vehicle flips over. Severide runs to the vehicle and sees a young boy named Nathan trapped, with a metal bar in his forearm. Scrambling inside, Severide pulls the bar from Nathan's arm, and blood squirts everywhere. The bar hit an atery. To stop the blood flow, they have to put their hand in Nathan's arm and close the artery.

Severide runs for Nathan's backpack and finds a smashed cell phone. A truck drives by, but Severide can't get the drivers attention. Severide finds a binder clip from Nathan's bag and uses it to clamp the atery. He asks Nathan why he was trying to operate the backhoe. Nathan explains he wanted to show his absent father that he didn't need him to teach him anything. Severide understands the boy.

Shay looks for Severide after her shift. She goes to his car and follows his usual route. She arrives just in time to see the backoe right itself, thanks to Severide. Severide comes out with Nathan in his arms and they race to the hospital.

Shay and Severide sit tired in the waiting room, and Nathan and his mother are happy. Severide was happy to have run so far and so long.

[mediocrecowboyhat]

Set in sand - Chapter 31

We mark the year 1934 and a peculiar journal falls into your hands. It's telling the tale of an outlaw and the downfall of a gang. Some pages are torn and others are downright unreadable, but nevertheless, you are still able to make out some parts of the tragic story.

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to save the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

Previous chapter - Next chapter

Word count: 3.3k

TW: 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, violence, gore, death, misogynistic themes (anything that happens in the game as well), she/her pronouns

This morning you wake up to an empty bed. Either you have slept longer than usual or Arthur had gotten up at an ungodly hour, because you don't even feel the remnants of his body heat. With your mouth cracked open to a yawn, you scan the camp.

Most of the people are still in their sleeping garments. While rubbing your eyes and stretching your back, you climb out of bed and make your way to the fire. Sadie, John and Lenny are sitting there, their faces grim. Though that's not an unfamiliar sight nowadays.

Sadie hands you a steaming cup of coffee, as you sit down on the log next to her. You mumble a quick 'thanks' before taking a careful sip. After giving yourself some time to wake up properly, you clear your throat.

"Where's Arthur?", you ask her and she scoffs.

"Out with Micah and Dutch, I think." Her answer makes you frown.

Him being on a job with Micah isn't good news. At this point you're genuinely beginning to worry that that fool would do something to him. An exhausted sigh escapes your lips and you walk back to Arthur's tent to get ready for the day.

Since moving to Beaver Hollow you have kept your belongings in his tent. It has given you the illusion of a domestic life with the outlaw and you often times catch yourself fantasizing about the softest of things. Dreams about being married and owning a stable or a ranch flood your mind during the rare occasions, when you don't think about death.

As you button up your blouse and throw your coat over your shoulders, you decide to pay Mrs. Downes a visit. Granted, last time you saw her she wasn't too happy about meeting you again, but maybe you could offer some help. As proud as she is, she can't deny that she could find use in it.

No one pays you any mind when you saddle up Penthesilea and ride down the mountain towards Annesburg. On the way there, your stomach starts to growl and you mentally scold yourself for not eating some of Pearson's stew for breakfast. Perhaps you can buy something in the small mining town.

The road through the forest is empty with only a few riders passing you every now and then. So far you can't spot any Pinkertons, which is a good sign. You recall Charles mentioning that some Murfree folk are still roaming the area and you tense up a bit.

Imagining them running up to you with a machete held high sends an unpleasant shiver down your spine and you dearly hope not to encounter any of them. If you're struggling to fight off regular bounty hunters, then you definitely shouldn't go toe to toe with one of those cold blooded killers.

Fortunately enough the ride goes by rather peacefully and you hitch your Andalusian on the side of the street. You don't quite remember which house belongs to Mrs. Downes, but you try your luck somewhere in the middle row and you're right.

The door is being opened only a little bit and a familiar face greets you. A shadow falls over it the moment her eyes land on you and she goes to close the door again without a word, but you stop it with your foot.

"I just came to talk.", you say, earning a bitter scoff.

"I don't want to talk with the likes of you.", she snarls, pushing the door against you, but you're stronger.

"Mrs. Downes, please. Give me a moment of your time."

After a while she stops, but doesn't open the door any wider. She scrutinizes you with a mix of suspicion and dismay. You want to shrink under her piercing gaze. That's when you realize, that you haven't seen her son around.

"Your son.", you start, unsure how to word your question. "May I ask where he is?"

There is a long pause and for a brief second you fear, that she won't answer you at all.

"Out working in the mines.", she responds curtly, her voice strained as if she doesn't want to talk about it. Understandable.

But the mines aren't a place for a young man such as him. In fact, you're pretty sure that he's still a boy if you remember his looks correctly. If he continues working there, his lungs will most likely give in.

Quickly, you search around in your satchel until you get ahold of a clip with some dollar bills attached to it and hold it up for her to see.

"Please take this and move to another place."

A better place.

Much to your disappointment, she wrinkles her nose almost in disgust as if you're presenting her a pile of shit and not money.

"I don't want anything from you.", she hisses, earning a sigh from you.

"Mrs. Downes-"

"Leave us alone."

With that she slams the door shut with brute force and you barely pull your foot out in time. If she won't listen to you then perhaps her son will. As you put back the clip and turn away from the house, you hear gun shots coming from the docks.

The people around you scream in terror and flee like rats caught roaming around in a cellar. You too crouch down on instinct and rush towards your horse. Whatever is happening over there, you don't want any part of it. Right before mounting Penthesilea to ride into safety, you spot three men running towards the train tracks.

Your heart drops when you recognize Arthur amongst them and a deep pit forms in your gut. Armed men seem to be all over the town and they're all chasing after them. You watch them run up a pair of wooden stairs at a structure towering over the train tracks and you hoist yourself up the saddle.

In your current state, you won't be of much help if you follow them on foot, but you can try to make their escape easier. Without hesitation you signal your horse to take you up the hill, careful not to run any civilians over.

There in the distance, you make out a handful of riders who seem like they're attempting to cut off the three outlaws. Instead of fishing your pistol out of the holster, you grab your rifle that is securely stored on the side of your saddle and you aim.

The recoil is harsher than you expected, but you quickly steady your grip. You're anything but used to this weapon, but after a couple attempts you start to get the hang out of it. Not all of the bullets hit their mark, but enough to be effective and the dead riders slide off the back of their horse.

Once you reach the other side of the wooden bridge over the train tracks, you lock eyes with the three outlaws. Arthur's expression is filled with both worry and bewilderment at your sudden appearance. Dutch on the other hand eyes you up and down with an unreadable look on his face.

"Well done.", he says in your direction, after he notices the dead bodies further down the road. His voice carries another emotion, but it's too deeply buried for you recognize it's meaning.

With all the chaos surrounding you, you don't have the opportunity to speak up. Shortly after your small reunion more riders show up and you all take off into the forest. The chase continues, bullets flying around your head, but you're forced to store the rifle away to have a better grip on the reigns.

You cut deeper into the woods and away from the road to try to shake off the men, who are after you. With the pistol now firmly in your hand, you shoot behind you, not checking if you even hit anyone. It continues on this way to the point where you're completely disoriented.

The way from Beaver Hollow to Annesburg and from Annesburg to Van Horn is familiar to you, but now you're entirely lost somewhere in these dense woods. It's slowly turning into a struggle, avoiding rocks and threes that seem to just materialize out of nowhere.

After a while you arrive at a river, shooting the last few men and once you reach the other side you slow down. Desperately you pant and gasp for air, every muscle in your body aching.

"We're all okay?", Dutch calls out into the round, as you all jump off your saddles.

"Interestin' social call.", Arthur comments, his voice carrying a hint of discontent.

"Oh don't play superior and dumb at the same time, Morgan.", Micah chimes in and you glare daggers at him. "We all knew, that sooner or later Cornwall had to go."

Hearing this, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise and you give Dutch a puzzled look.

"Cornwall is dead?", you ask, disbelief lacing your voice and he nods without answering.

Micah hands him over a small stack of papers, which you assume are bonds or something along those lines.

"It's attention we don't need.", Arthur speaks up. "It feels like the world's closin' in on us."

Arthur walks up to the leader and they exchange a few heated words, which you can't hear from where you're standing. Much to your dismay, you feel a pair of cold eyes burning themselves into you.

"I must applaud your timing, darlin'.", Micah says directed to you and you cross your arms over your chest. "What lucky coincidence, that you were there."

"I had some business in town.", you respond, not gracing him with a single look and he hums in feigned agreement.

"Sure."

That's when you turn on your heels to face him and your expression darkens. "What are you trying to say, Micah?"

"Nothin'.", he says, his voice oozing with sarcasm. "Nothin' at all."

Before you can say anything else to him, Dutch and Arthur return to you. The leader tells you about Cornwall's oil factory sitting on a pile of money and he mentions a distraction. The crease on your forehead deepens when you hear that it involves explosives and a bridge.

"Micah, take Bill with you when you get the dynamite." He pauses and his gaze lands on you. "You'll be joinin' them."

"Dutch!", Arthur immediately protests, outraged and with a raised voice. "She's still hurt!"

"We need as many people on this as possible."

"Then let me come with 'em."

The two stare at each other for a long time and that is when it hits you.

"No, I need you on somethin' else."

Micah has convinced him that you're the second rat. With a hollow feeling in your chest, you watch the two men ride off into the distance, leaving you and Arthur standing here alone. The outlaw hisses profanities, as he takes off his hat to wipe away the sweat on his forehead.

"I ain't lettin' you go there alone.", he says, his tone making it clear that he won't be swayed.

"Bill will be there.", you answer, a poor attempt to sooth his worries.

"Williamson?" He huffs. "I ain't trustin' that fool as far as I can throw him."

Humming, you cup both of his cheeks with your hands and gently turn his head to face you. Pain is written all over his features and you notice how the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth have become deeper. In the last few days, he has aged a lot.

"I will be fine." You do your best to sound convincing.

Arthur takes one of your hands in his and places a soft kiss on the inside of your palm.

"I'll get you out of here.", he murmurs.

"Arthur.", you say.

"Hm?"

"Can I ask a favor of you?", you ask, unsure if this is even the right time.

"Anythin', sweetheart." The nickname mixed with his raspy, deep voice makes your heart flutter.

"I was in Annesburg, because I went to see Mrs. Downes."

At the mention of the name, his face darkens a bit. "I tried talkin' to her too, but she wouldn't hear me out. Can't say I blame her."

"Me too." You nod. "She said her son is working in the mines and I thought, that maybe you could talk to him? She didn't tell me any specifics, but it didn't sound too good."

"Course. I'll get to it as soon as I can."

With that, his lips meet yours. It's a gentle action at first, but it quickly turns into a more heated kiss. Arthur burries his hand in the crook of your neck, while the other slides down to your lower back. His touch is warm, comforting. After a while you break away and pant against his lips.

"I'll try to talk to Dutch again 'bout having me come with ya.", he breathes. "If he still ain't lettin' me go, then I'll threaten Williamson to keep you away from the action."

"There's no need for that.", you argue, chuckling softly.

"There is.", he says, voice firm and serious. "If anythin' happens to you on that goddamn job, then the Pinkertons will be the last thing they gotta worry about."

"Let's just head back to camp and wind down for now,okay?", you suggest, wanting to change the topic to something more lighthearted. "I'm starving."

---

Right before nightfall, you find yourself sitting at the campfire next to Arthur and with some of the others. You've noticed that Charles has been gone for a while now and Sadie seems to be riding out of camp regularly too. Once you have the opportunity, you will ask her about it, worried that she might be taking on the O'Driscolls all by herself again.

The soft crackling of the burning wood fills the air and you lean your head on Arthur's shoulder. He wraps an arm around your form, pulling you a bit closer to his side. While in camp, you do your utmost best to ignore the strange looks some of the people around here give you, but it's hard.

Not too long ago, you were sharing drinks with them. Though you're not the only one who's experiencing some hostility. Just earlier today you heard Dutch and John fight, loud enough for everyone to listen. Sighing, you push those dark thoughts to the far back of your mind and Arthur plants a kiss on the top of your head.

"You good?", he mumbles into your hair and you only manage a weak nod.

Sensing, that you don't want to talk about what's bothering you, he doesn't press the topic further. Your eyes flutter shut and you relax against his broad frame, but unfortunately the moment doesn't last long. The sound of horses echoes in the distance and you make out two silhouettes approaching the camp.

Arthur is immediately on his feet and takes a step forward, shielding you from whoever just showed up. Your own hand twitches towards the gun holstered at your hip. Once you recognize Charles amongst them, you quickly relax again and so does the outlaw.

There is a man you have never seen with him, but you notice how Arthur's eyes light up in recognition. He walks over to the two men and you follow closely behind. In the corner of your eyes, you spot Dutch approaching your small group as well.

"Dutch! This is Eagle Flies.", Arthur call out to the leader. "His father is a great chief. Charles and I uhm..."

"Pretended to be mercenaries.", Eagle Flies finishes the sentence. "Did me a great favor."

There is a pause where Dutch throws Arthur an odd look, but then he shakes the man's hand and introduces himself.

"How do you do?", the leader asks politely, still seeming a bit wary of the newcomer.

"Not well, sir."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Arthur clears his throat after the short conversation between these two. "How's your father?"

"Father has confused wisdom with weakness.", comes Eagle Flies' rather harsh answer. "His people, my people. We've suffered too much, been lied to too much. Now they've taken our horses."

"Who?", you ask, furrowing your eyebrows in both confusion and concern.

Charles is the one, who answers. "The infantry division posted at Fort Wallace."

"Why?" Dutch's voice comes close to a demanding roar.

"Colonel Favours is a liar and a murderer. His people won't stop, until we're all dead. Without horses, we cannot hunt. Without hunting, we will starve. This is another act of war!", Eagle Flies declares, growing louder and more furious with each passing second.

"I see that.", Dutch comments.

You watch Eagle Flies fish out some cash from his pocket. "Your men have helped me before and I have money."

"Put your money away, son." Dutch turns to Charles. "What do you think?"

Charles stares at Eagle Flies for a while, before speaking up. "You know, I have told your father, that I won't fight over some horses."

It's a sound argument. With the gang on the run and everyone after you all, it really isn't smart to get involved in yet another conflict. It's bad enough to have the Pinkertons on your tail, but the army? Those are forces you can't afford to mess with.

"But I made no such promise.", Dutch says and you watch with wide eyes, as he tells Eagle Flies to follow him.

"Arthur, we must stop them before things get out of hand.", Charles says, his voice urgent and pressing.

"Let me come with you!", you exclaim in a plea, but Arthur raises a hand and shakes his head.

"Absolutely not."

"I can help."

"Not in this state." His eyes travel down to your stomach and instinctively you go to touch the spot where you're injury is.

Obviously he's not wrong, but you're sick and tired of watching him go and risk his life all by himself. Granted, Charles will be by his side this time and you trust that man with your life, but you can't sit and wait alone at camp anymore.

Every single goddamn time he's out there, you're just pacing around the tent, hoping and praying that he comes back to you in one piece. The anxiety will kill you sooner than any bullet. Quickly, you open your mouth to argue some more, but shut it when he cups your cheek.

His rough thumb brushes gently over your skin and you feel like you're going to melt on the spot with the way he looks at you.

"I'll come back as soon as possible.", he murmurs, planting a quick kiss on your forehead.

With that, him and Charles leave and you do what you always do when you're alone waiting. You hole yourself up in the tent the two of you share and lay in the small bed, breathing in his musky, earthy scent. At times like this you're tempted to light a cigarette and smell the smoke just to pretend he's nearby.

All night you toss and turn, unable to close your eyes even for a minute. Only when the sun begins to rise, drowning the camp in a rich orange color, do you hear the sound of hooves. Immediately, you jump up and stumble out of the tent. It feels like a great weight has been lifted off your shoulders when you see Arthur hitch his horse at one of the posts.

He looks tired, dark circles marking the underside of his eyes. When he pulls you in for a hug, you almost fall over with how much weight he puts into it.

"Sorry.", he grumbles into your neck and you rub circles over his back.

"Don't be." You take his hand, guiding him towards the tent. "Come. Let's rest for a moment."

He let's you push him onto the bed and you bury your face into his chest. His clothes smell slightly sour as if they've been drenched in water and not left to dry properly.

But now, with Arthur here again, you're able to drift off into a comfortable slumber.

Taglist: @shackspossum @abducted-cowz @heloixe @onyxlune

[brujahinaskirt]

essay time! rdr2 spoilers under the cut

in order to understand why rdr2's unconventional storyline works as tragedy, we must first deeply understand that arthur morgan wanted to live. arthur didn't want poetic justice punishment wrested upon him. arthur didn't want to rest. arthur didn't want to die.

this seems like a small detail brought up just to drive in the sadness knife, but I have a point here about realism in tragedy, and how rdr2 carefully incorporates the messy randomness of life into satisfying fiction, something that is rarely done well.

look: no matter how realistic and often downright pessimistic he was about the likely fate of outlaws, and as much as he truly believed he did not deserve happiness, it's vital the audience understands that arthur fucking wanted to be happy. he did not eagerly embrace his death, romanticize it, or go quietly to his demise. arthur had hopes and wishes for his future, attainable ones! more than; he had plans for his life after the van der Linde gang, goddammit. and though he often writes/says that he knows he cannot escape the haunting memories of his past evildoing, and that he believes seeking forgiveness is a selfish exercise, his ultimate plan for himself was not to live in perpetual remorse and performative christian self-flagellation, to hell with what he deserved.

and then all of that is upended. death was not a satisfying final relief to him or a welcome release from a cruel world; it was the world's cruelest act of violence against him, the interruption of his hopes to one day become a better man living a better life. his diagnosis terrified and devastated him. he wanted to be there to help john and abigail build their family. he wanted to see jack grow up. he wanted to go to mary as he promised her he would. he wanted to see charles finally find a sense of place with the wapiti, a life that a truly good man like charles deserved. he wanted to help the girls save karen from her alcoholism. he wanted to see sadie start to rebuild a new life for herself.

in the end, arthur is able to face his fate with clear eyes, but he did not do so with ease and gratitude and peace. he did not get his slow denouement to heal and enjoy the time to naturally transform in disposition and nature into a "good man." he died with fear and sadness in his heart, for himself as well as others, and (if high-honor arthur) he died with contentment that he used his last days to make sure john's family had real hopes for their own happier future.

Sure, yes, definitely, this is a caring and brave choice to make. But arthur didn't choose to die -- he chose how to die -- and that's part of why I insist that arthur's "sacrifice" wasn't so much an act of great symbolism-loaded lofty-themed literary sacrifice as it was a simpler act of personal love. the world was cruel to arthur, and he was often cruel right back, until he made a deliberate choice to be kind -- at a moment where, to him, the world was at its very cruelest.

that distinction is to me what makes rdr2 an interesting tragedy rather than a maudlin exercise in grimdarkiness. arthur didn't, in fact, throw himself into the gears with the deliberate intention to seek redemption in death; redemption in death was forced upon him. he did not lay down his life for the sake of a self-congratulatory nobility in his martyrdom; he did not go gently, like a symbolic character does, selecting the poetic fate his narrative deserved.

and that's all bullshit anyway! life does not give a shit about what you deserve. and so it is in this story. Arthur Morgan was a deeply flawed man who did the best he could with the tragedy that his circumstances, his past choices, and the harsh randomness of the universe forced upon him. that's what life inevitably asks people, all of us, to do.

tl;dr: arthur's death was not a sacrifice and it was not his redemption. it was just his ending, as all our deaths will one day be. his redemption, his finally becoming a mythical "good man" (in his words), his (in sister calderón's words) "loving act" was not about his feelings or the intangible nature of his heart. arthur's redemption was the rushed but painfully earnest work he did to make the world into a fairer, kinder, less cruel place in whatever small ways he could before he went.

[killjoycatlady]

off the top of my head, a good reason to have agravaine stick around would be to make him be a diplomatically important figure. picture this for me: gaius tells arthur about the fomorrah, making it clear that there’s a traitor at court. arthur goes to agravaine to question him, the same as he does in the show. agravaine tells him to suspect gaius. arthur considers it, but also considers that it makes no sense for gaius to betray him and then expose his own handiwork to arthur. arthur could go back and forth on this - gaius has always been loyal, but gaius used to use magic, so maybe he would be in league with morgana? whta would agravaine’s motive be, if he wanted arthur dead? could gaius just be using merlin as a scapegoat? arthur could confide in gwen, showing that he trusts her with matters of the state - and of course gwen wohld vouch for gaius, saying that he wouldnt betray arthur and hed certainly never betray merlin, and that she thinks agravaine isnt good for arthur. maybe arthur would try to defend agravaine, and gwen gets upset at arthur for trusting gaius so little and trusting agravaine so much. and maybe arthur starts to wonder about agravaine. but he needs proof. agravaine is a powerful lord who controls regions of camelot that are essential for trade - arthur cannot afford to lose his support over nothing. maybe agravaine’s daughter is married to another powerful lord who arthur needs the support of during these early unstable days of his reign. maybe agravaine is a good speaker and holds sway with the older members of arthur’s court who arent happy with arthur’s repeated flaunting of tradition. and of course agravaine is his uncle, and arthur has precious little family left. he cannot make accusations without proof; he cannot offend agravaine by restricting him significantly and risk losing his support, not unless they are absolutely certain of his betrayal. but agravaine is smart, and knows that he has shaken arthur’s trust, so he limits contact with morgana so arthur can never catch him out. thus establishes the tension in the show: agravaine is the traitor, but he advises arthur well enough and does enough to support arthur’s reign in the eyes of the court that agravaine can do enough damage before he meets his demise.

and yes i understand the whole “merlin needs to use magic to defeat the fomorrah so arthur cant know” thing but like. that can be dealt with with slightly less unreasonable lying. oh no arthur trust me i know exactly how deal with this - i have to kill the snake slowly by keeping merlin unconscious and feeding him tinctures for twelve hours. yeah no you cant see him its a disgusting horrible process you’d be scarred for life, best leave me to it. merlin hurry up go kill that thing before 12 hours are up. boom merlin defeats the thing and arthur gets to make fun of him for being controlled by a worm and for being as shit of an assassin as he is a servant. to me it comes down to the fact that why wouldnt gwen not want to tell arthur - its not like she has any reason to think arthur should be lied to for merlins safety

it makes for a funny plot and some amazing gwen moments where she can act awkward and not perfect all the time but i don’t understand why gaius wouldnt tell arthur that merlin is being controlled by the fomorrah and being forced to assassinate him. you can CLEARLY see the snake squirming under merlin’s skin and the episode already establishes that arthur trusts merlin above anyone else - he’d have no reason not to believe gaius. the only explanation i can think of for this choice is that if gaius revealed the truth to arthur, arthur would have a logical reason not to suspect gaius as the traitor (because why would gaius expose his own plan?). so once again this show has gaius make an absolutely incomprehensible decision just for the sake of the plot

decisions like these just seem like stupid writing choices but it completely undercuts the tension of the storyline and makes it frustrating instead. arthur was ready to suspect agravaine! if gaius didnt actively lie to arthur for no reason his innocence would have been proven without a doubt! and instead of showing arthur having an actual reason to keep agravaine around and not immediately suspect him, they handwave it away and bury it under comedy hoping nobody questions it.

this doesnt even begin to get into how this affects gaius’ character. hes a static character whose main function is to act as merlin’s guide and informant, and his characterization has never mattered overmuch other than how it affects merlin, but this repeated pattern of lying to arthur when it makes no sense for him to do so calls into question what the FUCK is going on in his head. is he so used to seeing arthur as uther’s child that he struggles to see arthur as a king in his own stead? does he implicitly distrust arthur due to his laws against magic? does his protectiveness of merlin blind him to reason if theres even a slight chance of the blame falling to merlin? all of these would have been good angles to explore with someone like gaius, who is an interesting character in his own right, but with the way his decisions are never discussed or questioned, i wonder whether the writers were even considering characterization when writing some of his actions. why would GWEN want to lie to arthur about merlin being controlled by the fomorrah?

[javierduffy]

Well... after putting it off for 2 days I finally did Horsemen Apocalypses :(

Gods. This game is all about missed chances and could-have-beens. Not a single character is unscathed. Even those that make it out alive only have bittersweet endings. I hate it here (affectionate)

2 days … you’re so brave …. one time, i dropped rdr2 for an entire year specifically to avoid horsemen, apocalypses LMFAO it was when my hyperfixation for the game started up again this time that i had no choice but to do it so i could keep playing 💔

my condolences either way, i think it’s my least favourite mission of the whole game. it makes me nauseous to think about, nonetheless play.

i think red dead redemption 2 is about love, but grief is love with nowhere to go, and this game has such a beautiful, gut wrenching way of exploring that via young, essentially plot-irrelevant characters and their subsequent demises (regarding the “could-have-beens”). i don’t know if i agree that it’s about missed chances, though … in a way, i see what you mean … but to me, i think the vdl’s lived their way, and died their ways, but at the root of it all, it was love that saved them for so, so long. most of them didn’t belong anywhere else, and before dutch went crazy and led them awry, a lot of them were genuinely not too poorly off when they ended up following him (see people like javier, lenny, tilly, reverend, etc. people who literally would have died (or worse) otherwise. also, i am a truther that dutch genuinely had all of their best interests at heart prior to micah, despite his preexisting ego. it was simply his ego that ended up being their downfall.). they rode hard and they died for it, but they did it for love, and as … unsatisfactory as nearly everyone’s endings are, i don’t think all that loving was in vain. it saved john, abigail, and jack- and arthur, too, in it’s own way. it saved tilly and trelawny as well. for them, literally. everyone else, it saved every day that they rode their rough lives, because it gave them something to live for.

you’re absolutely right though that no one left unscathed, and that most of their endings are almost nothing but bittersweet. rockstar has hatred in their heart and believes that sharing is caring 💔 i would love a dlc where everyone makes it out and is happy and peeling mangos in tahiti or something or other but i know in my heart that it wouldn’t even feel right 💔 i, too, hate it here 💔💔💔

regarding kieran, he is absolutely wasted potential in a meta sense LOL rockstar did genuinely waste him, i feel like. we already know that he was meant for more, and who knows how much more that was, but he of all characters i believe was almost completely wasted, in the end. which sucks !!!!! i could spin a tale about how he was saved by love every day prior to his death as well (which is true. especially because he is explicitly noted to be particularly gentle, meaning he loved the hardest out of all of the men in the gang, in a way. love, for kieran duffy, is an indestructible part of his being. despite it all, it’s his bleeding heart that keeps him living, even in the most miserable of circumstances.) but since he literally was involved in a ton of scrapped material, i will bitch and moan quite readily about the expanse of his “missed chances”. i’ll spare you, though. just know … i understand … i get it ….. truly, i do …..

[aleiocus]

As requested @mtreebeardiles, one of my snippets. Specifically I nabbed the OFMD Tolkien AU.

Adventure was possible—of that he was certain.

There had been enough tales circling about of sheltered Shire-folk off on some wondrous journey or other. It was just a matter of time before the next "outlier" cropped up, so to speak.

Granted there were only two tales, and both Hobbits the blame is placed upon had come from the same rather un-Hobbity, decidedly Tookish household.

That was enough for one to begin to dream, though.

This one particular Hobbit of Buckland—homestead located nearer the Brandywine River than Old Forest—went by the rather respectable name of Stede Bonnet.

The respectability wasn't something he had earned. No, his father had made well sure to remind Stede of that every day up until his natural demise.

Having originally been from one of the four Farthings, Mr. Bonnet decided at some point in his youth to seek out fortune elsewhere.

'Elsewhere' ended up, it seems, being the former colony of Buckland.

Growing up, Stede had never understood why his father would do such a thing.

The Shire beyond the river sounded rather lovely, after all, so why leave it all behind?

Stede had his house, and his life, and his faunts, and his wife. The cupboards were always well stocked and money wasn't a concern.

Everything a Hobbit could dream of Stede had, and he still wasn't happy.

Perhaps he was beginning to understand his father, even if only a little bit.

This unhappiness had become so great as of late that it was inevitable things would turn out like this, really. With a small but well stocked cart full of everything that caught his fancy and two round little ponies named Arthur and Halifax fastened to the front, Stede took one last look at the place he once called home.

It was for the best. This wasn’t a home for him anymore.

As best he figured, following Brandywine River down and westward would land him… well, he wasn't quite sure, but he was hoping it was somewhere new, and exciting, and good.

And so Stede Bonnet, a Hobbit who hadn't stepped foot outside the Shire lands a-once in his life, set off on certain adventure.

----------------------------------

"The only thing 'certain' about this adventure is that I'm certainly lost!"

Stede was still by the river he intended to follow maplessly down and westward—just barely outside the bounds of the Shire, but still well gone from anything he knew. Without a visual aid, he had no idea how much of his journey had passed and how much still remained.

[phantom-of-the-501st]

Sad Yeehaw Hours

SPOILERS FOR RDR2 CHAPTER 6 (AND EPILOGUE?)

Thinking about how Charles buried Arthur makes me incredibly sad but also makes me realise just how much I love this man.

Charles is up north (possibly in Canada?) with the Wapiti tribe when he hears of Arthur's demise. Instead of just mourning for him and choosing to carry on, this man goes ALL THE WAY BACK to bury him.

Also, it probably would have taken at least a few days for news to get to him, as well as a few days for him to travel down, so we're looking at a couple of weeks at least before he reaches Arthur. Arthur is obviously not going to be in the best state.

So Charles finds Miss Grimshaw (who Charles is never shown as being particularly close to but he obviously still wants to give her a little bit of dignity) and buries her a little way from camp before going to find Arthur.

And when he finds him, he doesn't just do what he did with Susan and bury him nearby, oh no, he takes him miles to the overlook where Arthur's grave is. Bearing in mind Arthur is going to be decomposing by this point!

And he buries him on this cliff, facing West because that's what Arthur told Hosea earlier in the game. Let me repeat, he buried Arthur on a cliff, facing West so that he could watch the sunset because that's what Arthur said he wanted earlier in the game.

And of course he carved a grave with his own hands, not only inscribing Arthur's name, but also a beautiful quote. Like, he put effort into this burial.

When I first heard Charles say that he buried Arthur, my heart melted. But when I thought about the actual logistics of the thing my heart broke.

It must have been so difficult for Charles to do this. This man has been living on his own for years. He finally finds a group of people who actually appreciate him and don't judge him for his race or heritage (well, most of them at least). He actually finds a family. And a close friend in Arthur.

Arthur made sure to let Charles know that he was appreciated. Went out of his way to help Charles and was the closest friend that he had in that gang at the time. And then he dies. And Charles makes sure to give him the burial that he wanted.

That must have been so hard on him. I don't want to think about the emotional trauma that that man went through to carry one of his only close friends, who is literally decomposing, and bury him. Having to actually make him a grave and bury him.

Charles has been through so much and my heart shatters to think about how much this must've affected him. This man has suffered through pain and discrimination for years and one of the only people that actually appreciated Charles ended up being a man that he had to bury just months later.

I have so much respect for Charles. Honestly. I don't know how he did it and I wish that I could just hug him (and Arthur, of course). This man is so pure and just want him to be happy. This must've scarred him (even John says that Charles found the dissolution of the gang difficult) and that man doesn't deserve it.

Charles Smith is amazing.

[marie-dufresne]

eteriskromling​:

@marie-dufresne

-

Astrid had fallen into Marie’s life as if some force had dropped her there. Sure, Mr Dufresne was her target, and her eventual dispatching of Arthur seemed more inevitable than intentional—but to say that she intended to muddy the waters of her contract by fraternising with the target’s daughter was a gross misunderstanding.

She took her in as her protege, knowing that even though Marie wasn’t entirely innocent, she was still breaking a part of her open. The very same piece of her that had shattered in her teens when the Collective took her as their own. She didn’t care at first. She was entirely supportive of Marie growing some edges.

Until she wasn’t.

Something within her grew, demanding some form of domesticity with the blonde. Maybe it grew between arguments or the many times Astrid had returned after taking a contract covered in a mixture of blood and exhaustion—the many nights she could not even speak to Marie, let alone look at her.

And sometimes, it just felt good to be in her presence. She didn’t know why, but didn’t care to question the change.

Eventually, though she spent months with her, Astrid didn’t return to the estate she had them glamorously hibernating in. First, it was a little at a time—a few days or a week, but nothing unusual given her job—and then she didn’t return one day. Not for the days or weeks that followed or the weeks that turned into months.

She didn’t return for the money, either.

But there was one night when the air hung thick, and a wrongness seemed to permeate empty streets, and it was just the same as the nights when she earned the higher value contracts, where she had finally made her return. She had entered soundlessly through a window and stood for a time watching Marie as she applied her makeup, eyeing her as a wolf eyes its prey.

“Leaving so early, pussycat?” Her long legs stalked toward the blonde. “Or are you staying?”

Marie had lived in a cage nearly her entire life. First, there was her father. Then, an assassin of all people had kept her locked up. Not for money, mind you. In fact, for a while, Marie wasn’t sure why Astrid had kidnapped her in the first place.

After Arthur had been handled, she wasn’t sure why she was kept around and more importantly, she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t been allowed to leave.

This imprisonment, of course, was not nearly as bad as the first and she grew accustomed to it. Grateful, even. There were a number of things Astrid was teaching her and over time Marie wasn’t even sure if she was a captive or not.

And then one day, she was not a captive any longer.

She didn’t realize it on that day of course, and when Astrid didn’t return home, she didn’t question it. This wasn’t a job for the both of them, but that was no matter. When she didn’t return for over a week, Marie became nervous.

She spent countless hours trying to get in touch with her to no avail. She spent days pacing the estate, adrenaline coursing through her veins, making herself sick with anxiety. What if she was dead?

On the fifth day of imagining all of the gruesome ways her accidental lover may have been tortured and killed, she realized that anyone who might have wanted Astrid dead would likely not be quiet about it. She would have been a message.

As Marie had received no body parts in the mail and there was nothing in the news of Astrid’s demise, the blonde could think of only one other option.

She’d driven her away.

It had been so foolish of her to have believed to have found happiness, that someone might actually care for more than what she offered between her legs. Her father had been right and it nearly killed her.

Quite literally.

She tried. A mix of too many pharmaceuticals and too much alcohol had been a week’s worth of effort but for all of her drug usage and partying under Arthur’s reign, her body didn’t seem to like it all that much these days and instead of dying, sad and lonely in a bed once shared, she spent each night with her face in the toilet, sick.

There was nothing for it. She would have to…move on.

She was still trying it, in fact, when she heard Astrid’s voice at her window and she lowered the makeup brush, her hand shaking at the words.

She didn’t know how she felt. Relieved? Furious? Used? Joyful? All of them together, she supposed and they rendered her silent, offering Astrid nothing but a trembling lip in the mirror and silent. tears spilling onto her cheeks.

@marie-dufresne

-

Astrid had fallen into Marie’s life as if some force had dropped her there. Sure, Mr Dufresne was her target, and her eventual dispatching of Arthur seemed more inevitable than intentional—but to say that she intended to muddy the waters of her contract by fraternising with the target’s daughter was a gross misunderstanding.

She took her in as her protege, knowing that even though Marie wasn’t entirely innocent, she was still breaking a part of her open. The very same piece of her that had shattered in her teens when the Collective took her as their own. She didn’t care at first. She was entirely supportive of Marie growing some edges.

Until she wasn’t.

Something within her grew, demanding some form of domesticity with the blonde. Maybe it grew between arguments or the many times Astrid had returned after taking a contract covered in a mixture of blood and exhaustion—the many nights she could not even speak to Marie, let alone look at her.

And sometimes, it just felt good to be in her presence. She didn’t know why, but didn’t care to question the change.

Eventually, though she spent months with her, Astrid didn’t return to the estate she had them glamorously hibernating in. First, it was a little at a time—a few days or a week, but nothing unusual given her job—and then she didn’t return one day. Not for the days or weeks that followed or the weeks that turned into months.

She didn’t return for the money, either.

But there was one night when the air hung thick, and a wrongness seemed to permeate empty streets, and it was just the same as the nights when she earned the higher value contracts, where she had finally made her return. She had entered soundlessly through a window and stood for a time watching Marie as she applied her makeup, eyeing her as a wolf eyes its prey.

“Leaving so early, pussycat?” Her long legs stalked toward the blonde. “Or are you staying?”