#arthur b. woods

[gatutor]

Will Hay-Helen Chandler "Radio parade of 1935" 1934, de Arthur B. Woods.

[haverwood]

On Secret Service Arthur B. Woods UK, 1933 ★★ Pretty uneventful but that's ok, it's not like a spy story should be exciting, right?

[nofatclips]

Director: John Badham

Wargames (1983)

[bitcoinversus]

Bitcoin's Future Price According to Industry Experts

Prominent figures in the financial and cryptocurrency sectors have made ambitious predictions regarding Bitcoin’s future value, reflecting their perspectives on its potential role in the global economy. Cathie Wood, CEO of Ark Invest, projects Bitcoin reaching $1 million by 2030. Her optimistic outlook is based on anticipated widespread adoption and Bitcoin’s potential to become a standard store…

[johnpriceslamb]

— 𝓙𝓐𝓝𝓤𝓐𝓡𝓨

You are to be wedded by the end of the year. Upon travelling, you’re met with a group of pesky bandits.

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓒𝓔𝓔𝓓 : age gap . fem ! reader . afab ! reader . hyper feminine ! reader . reader is mentioned to be physically smaller than chars mentioned in story . reader is in early 20’s . arthur is in late 20’s - early 30’s . fighting scenes . gore . traditional gender stereotypes heavily mentioned .

At the end of the year, you’ll be married off to a man.

Someone strong, handsome, clever, and gentle in heart. You hope.

“Marriage is the ultimate goal for a woman.”

Your corset is tightened by your nanny from behind. The tightness of it makes your breath hitch slightly, hands curling up unconsciously.

In the late winters of 1892, the rolling plains of Lemoyne were no match for nobility. You were dragged along by daddy who was on a grand tour in the west, despite not being keen on the idea. He insisted on seeing the rails and trains he invested in, so you didn’t have much of a choice other than to tag along.

She ushers you to stand up so she could fit the petticoat around your hips. The bands of the voluptuous under-skirt were stretched, allowing you to titter in the large hole and shape your figure again. You’re thankful that it’s a lightweight cotton fabric, considering that all the other layers you adorned added a bit more unnecessary weight to your small frame. Then comes the underskirt, adding another layer of volume and structure.

“If a man stares at you, avoid direct eye contact by using the fan your grandmother has gifted you.” She instructs, remembering the lessons your governess taught you. Her frail hands place the soft, silk evening bodice over your tightened corset. A beautiful little thing which accentuated your curves even more so, kissed with ribbons and flares below the piece.

The burning wood which crackled near the fireplace left a smell around the changing room which you longed for. You’ll be leaving in just a few more minutes, having to face the harsh winter storms outside. You wonder to yourself if the amount of beauty products delicately touched on your face was really worth it, considering that the weather outside will most likely dishevel it. And of course, you’ll be spending most of the day travelling by carriage.

Finally, the skirt. The main part of your outfit. Nanny brushes off the remaining particles on the skirt with her wrinkled hands. You couldn’t help but admire the beautiful little thing, pleated with satin which ended with small bows. She repeats the steps like for the other underskirts, stretching the band, allowing you to step in, and lifting it up to shape your figure.

Upon the stool you sat, you squirm uncomfortably because of the amount of layers you had to wear. She notices, and kisses her tongue.

“A woman should not squirm uncontrollably in their seat.” She hisses, lightly tapping your hands with a ruler as a way to discipline you. “Repeat what I have said.”

A sigh escapes your tinted lips. You hold out your hands.

“Marriage is the ultimate goal for women,” You repeat, “I must not stare back at a man and avoid direct eye contact.”

“Why must you not stare back at a man?” She asks.

You hesitate. The ruler comes down to your skin and places a stinging kiss. You hiss at the pain.

“B-because—” Another hit.

“No stuttering.”

You take a shaky breath, enduring the soft whimper which begs to escape from the bottom of your throat, “Because returning a man’s gaze could interpret as an invitation or a sign of interest.”

“What must you do if they stare?”

“Avoid eye contact by using my grandmothers’ fan.”

“Good.” She nods her head in approval. You place your hands neatly on your lap, looking down to avoid eye contact.

You’re ready to leave as soon as she ties the delicate satin bonnet on your head, ensuring that your face is covered with enough shade provided by the head piece. With the helping hands of the maids in daddy’s manor, all of your luggage was carried to the boot of the carriage. You bid your goodbyes to a few of your selected favourite maids, lightly kissing their cheeks before tittering away.

As soon as you walked outside, you knew that the cold winters of ‘92 would affect you much more than you’d expect. Suddenly, you appreciate the amount of layers you adorned. You could hardly feel the cold winds blowing even if you stuck your head outside the carriage’s openings.

The old man who drives the carriage around hops out of that tall seat in front to open the door and lend a hand for you to enter in. Upon entering in, you can see that there was a small lit candle; your only source of warmth.

You feel really glad for all of the layers.

You vaguely remember daddy boasting about all of the railroads built all over this part of America. ‘The Central Union Railroad’, a camp made up by working men who were in charge of building all railroads— daddy owned that camp. Some parts of you feel grateful for being raised in wealth and comfort, while the remaining parts felt guilty for seeing others having to slave away just to get ends meet.

You’re not convinced that all the men in that camp were capable of working. You’ve seen a good litter of youths labouring here and there. You pitied them greatly but alas: you were a woman. The most you could do was provide them more food rations and safety gear.

But as time slowly passed by, you’ve noticed the laws overseeing the amount of child labour happening in businesses. Daddy wasn’t too happy seeing a slight decline of workers in his company, nevertheless it did make your lips curl up a bit.

You’re not particularly interested in watching the railroads daddy invests and funded in, only because your thoughts immediately go back to the amount of workers that barely get payed to slave away in building these roads.

On the other hand, it was also how you’re able to sleep in a large manor everyday.

The roads slowly turned more bumpy and rough when leaving Lemoyne territory. You’re quite surprised that your carriage hasn’t been robbed considering the amount of warnings of raiders being littered across this part of territory. Your beady eyes boredly peer out of the windows of the carriage, watching the distant white-tipped evergreen trees pass by.

There wasn’t much to do other than watch nature unfold or perhaps pester the driver. You’d rather the former since you don’t even know the drivers name.

You can still feel the stings from that stupid ruler your nanny punished you with. They catch onto the fabric, which makes you twitch a bit at the abrupt pain. The more bumpier the road was, the more it caught on.

It’s been a few hours since you’ve left home. If you remembered correctly, you’d be arriving to a town somewhere in Chicago. You peak out to the driver up front, politely asking him what the time was. You left during the early hours of the morning, and you could see the sun rise much more.

His warm, honey-dew tipped voice replies back with a frail ‘9 in the morning’. Just a few more hours until they’ve reach to Chicago. Maybe even another day is to be filled with travelling.

You can’t help but sigh, “Could we take a break and rest somewhere in a few hours time?”

The old man hums, “We may, if that is what you wish.”

You smile sweetly. Of course, being told no was quite foreign to you. “Thank you kindly.”

You rest back onto the velvety cushions, heaving out another deep sigh. You look out of the openings again, and for the first time in a few months you lay eyes upon a long stretch of natural snowy land. It’s a vast difference between the usual scenery you’d see back in Lemoyne. There was no puffs of dark grey smoke in the sky, the heavy scent of engines and oil running wasn’t to be smelt, the bellowing of officers directing a crowd, no city life around.

Sometimes you’d see a few run-down stables with a few animals. Other times you’d just see landmarks with just the never-ending cold covering in it. On one occasion around noon, you saw a dead animal with its bones protruding out. Your nose scrunches up at the sight before looking away to the other opening of the carriage. Not much of a difference in scenery.

You tinker your lashes out of boredom, now playing with the satin-tipped bows on your bodice. The travel becomes much slower and difficult because of the amount of snow which catches onto the wheels of the carriage. It’s excruciatingly difficult to be entertained in these types of situations, considering that you left your novels back at home. You scoot back to the front seat of the carriage, peaking out to the man who lead the vehicle.

“May we please take a stop over there?” You ask with a shy smile, gesturing towards the small town from afar. You wonder if there’s any pastry stores nearby. The last time you ate was a few hours ago, a bowl of porridge and a few thin slices of bread. The man acknowledges your polite request with a gruff.

There’s been a bit of a food problem because of the cold winter, more snow meant less crops being able to grow and lesser animals being produced. You’ve been stuck on porridge and bread for a while now, and you’re hoping that it’ll change.

Once the driver stopped near the town, you’re greeted with the wind yet again. You unconsciously curl inward to protect yourself from the cold, peering at the people who lived in this little area. It’s humble, isolated, quiet.

Cold. Too cold.

You take a few steps, the bottoms of your shoes caked with snow. The man beside you takes ahold of your arm in case of any danger which falls upon you. He coughs a bit when the air hits his lungs. You pity him, asking if he needed a hot cup of tea or anything of the sorts to get him to warm up again.

His old eyes light up at the mention of tea.

“You mustn’t fret over me, my lady.” He whispers lowly.

“I insist.”

He takes a slow breath before sighing. “ If you must.”

Another pause to take a deep breath, “Your attitude is nothing like your father’s.”

You quirk a brow, “Pardon?”

He grabs onto your arm for support, mindlessly dawdling. “It’s a shame that you’ll be married off soon. When you see potential candidates during this trip, take a look at his attributes rather than his looks.”

What?

You tilt your head, “I thought this trip was a tour around the West.”

He grunts slightly, flinching a bit. “Perhaps I’ve spoken too much.”

Before you utter out another word of disbelief, you’re met with a click of a gun.

“Another step from either one of ye’,” A hoarse voice from behind grumbles like a predator, “One of yer head’s gon’ be rollin’.”

You’ve never been in situations like these before. Your nerves are getting to you. A soft sob escapes from your mouth as the tip of the gun threatens to puncture the back of your head. Your hands are immediately up in defence, beady eyes staring back at the frail man who could not do anything but mimic your actions.

You croak, “Please, sir. We don’t have anything valuable for you—”

Many more of them pop up. As if a litter of ants come and pour, the man behind scoffs before kicking your knees to buckle and kneel on the floor.

“Bullshit,” He snarls, “Look at what yer wearing. Pretty lil’ thing like ye’ ought to have somethin’ hidin’ under that skirt of yers.”

“What do we do with this one, boss?” One of them knocks the nozzle of his gun into the old man’s head. An old wail of pain escapes him, and your eyes water even more as you helplessly look around.

“Get rid of ‘em.”

“Wait, please! Don’t harm him! He hasn’t done anything wrong!” You sob, trying to reach out for him— only to be held back by these bandits, “No- stop, stop!”

The man who holds you back cackles, mocking your high-pitched pleas and sobs. The old man is knocked out with another blow to the head with the end of the bandit’s gun. You could see the back of his head starting to bleed.

“I’m telling you, a pretty girl like ‘er would sell real well in the markets.”

“How much do you think we could make?”

Another tug on your bodice gets you to raggedly gasp. Before your eyes peer to the Heavens above and beg for mercy, bullets from afar ring past and alert the others. You can hear gallops of multiple horses coming your way, and a heap of other outlaws.

“Shit, ‘s the Van Der Linde Gang!” The leader of the group- who currently holds you captive in his arms, yells at his group to gun them down. A bullet zooms past and catches onto his shoulder which allows you wiggle away and squirm to hide.

With the remaining strength you had, you drag the driver’s unconscious body with you and behind a barrel. He’s cold, everything is cold, you’re cold.

He’s dead.

The impact of the gun’s end must of cracked his skull. Tears pour down your beauty-tinted face, mustering up quiet prayers for him. Bullets are the only thing you can hear, accompanied with loud bellows and curses.

You have never in your life witnessed anything like this before.

You peak from the barrel, watching the man who gunned your driver down drops dead to the floor from one bullet which hits his head. Another array of shots are fired, and soon enough the litter of bandits are all gone.

Your ears perk when you hear them converse lowly, “Who the hell were those guys?”

“I don’t know, son. John, you ‘n Bill find supplies ‘round this town. Rob, steal, or be law abiding citizens— I don’t care. Just get as much as you can.”

You stifle a soft sob at the rowdiness. The man who was recently talking hears your soft whimper, before wondering over to you and crouching down.

“Arthur,” He seems to be calling for one of his men. He looks like he was born from wealth like you were. His clothes are tinted with jewellery and his vest looked like red velvet fur, “Come over here ‘n escort this girl!”

He lends you a hand. He sees the hesitation in those eyes of yours which lead him to a more softer approach.

When his eyes focus onto your face, he squints. He sizes you up and down quickly, the clothing you adorned clearly catching his attention. “Oh, you poor thing.”

Your small hands are held firmly by his as he hoists you up. Burdened with trauma and shock, you could only hear him murmur soft words of encouragement. You see a younger man strolling towards him, only for him to blink in surprise when seeing you.

There was something about him which sparked your interest greatly.

He scratches at his light stubble, barely visible yet. His breath seemed to hitch at the first sight of you.

“Can she talk?”

The other man who holds you closely scoffs, “‘Course she can. She’s just shocked.”

“Huh. Okay. What do we do with her?”

The man looks at you, “Hm. What’s your name, miss?”

You sniffle a bit, shakily replying with a meek babble of your name.

“Lovely to meet you, my dear. Dutch. Dutch Van Der Linde.” He squeezes your shoulder a bit, “Where were you last heading to before.. all of this?”

“Ch— Chicago,” You stutter, either from the cold or from the scene which unfolded beneath your very eyes.

“Damn.. That’s a long way away.” The man who eyed you with interest mumbles, not taking his kind eyes away from you.

You stare back of course.

Some sort of spark in you flared up.

He could feel it too.

“We ought to take her back to camp. She doesn’t seem like she’s in good condition.” Dutch makes you step forward out to Arthur, who grabs you and hoists you in his arms and to his horse, a soft grumble of annoyance escaping his lips, before murmuring a low ‘up you go, girl.’

“When she’s settled enough, we’ll ride ‘er to Chicago. We’re headin’ north aren’t we?”

“Indeed we are.”

“Not much of a problem, then.”

You needily paw at him before he could settle you on the large saddle of his horse, “W-wait but my luggages..”

He quirks a brow at you, “What about it?”

You meekly look around, stammering. “I need it. ‘s— ‘s important, I just—”

He cuts you off, “Where is it?”

You gesture to the carriage from afar. You watch his built figure stroll down thataway to retrieve them. You’re still surprised that the bandits from earlier didn’t manage to spot it. But nevertheless, you profusely thanked him before he left to go grab it from the boot.

You watch Dutch’s other men grab your old driver’s body and sling it on the back of their horse, probably to bury it somewhere. You deeply thank them in your mind, only for a chuckle to interrupt your thoughts.

“The boy’s smitten, Hosea! Look at ‘im,” The man who found you nudged an older looking man’s shoulder, pointing to his bulky figure which held onto your absurdly large luggages, “Never did that with any of the other men we saved. Didn’t even protest when I said that we’re bringing her back to camp.”

Dutch titters to you with that beautiful stallion of his. You couldn’t help but envy at how gorgeous that mane was. You remember back home your horses were used for training and educating rather than for show. “You’ll be staying with us for a while until we can get you on your feet again.”

You slowly nod, sniffling a bit. You rub your arms for comfort, hoping that they won’t do anything funny to you, “Th—thank you..”

Hosea— if you recalled, only looked at you with eyes as warm as the fireplace back home. He pitied you too, but in a sense that wasn’t belittling like how Dutch pitied you.

Arthur grunts as he heaves the luggages on the back of his horse, securing it with some rope to not make it fall. He mounts from the left and settles behind you, before kicking his spurs gently which makes his horse start walking in a slow pace.

A comforting hand is placed on your shoulder. He leans in a bit and murmurs, “You’re safe with us.”

[nonsensology]

This was supposed to just be a rough sketch, but then I started getting really invested in it.

I hadn't initially intended to include so many picture book characters, but the nostalgia was overwhelming. Does anyone remember the animated short films produced by Weston Woods? My local library used to have a bunch of them on the Scholastic VHS tapes from the late 90s. (I know some shorts were released on the Children's Circle VHS tapes back in the 80s (🎶 Come on along! Come on along! Join the caravan!), and some were packaged in Sammy's Story Shop in 2008.)

Characters:

Max, from Where the Wild Things Are, written and illustrated by Maurice Sendak

Peter, from The Snowy Day, written and illustrated by Ezra Jack Keats

Brother Bear and Sister Bear, from The Berenstain Bears series, written and illustrated by Stan and Jan Berenstain

Pooh and Piglet, from the Winnie-the-Pooh books, by A. A. Milne, illustrated by E. H. Shepard

Owen, from Owen, written and illustrated by Kevin Henkes.

Mouse, from If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, by Laura Joffe Numeroff, illustrated by Felicia Bond

Louis, from The Trumpet of the Swan, by E. B. White

Mr. Toad, from The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame, based on the illustrations by E. H. Shepard

Mr. Tumnus, from The Chronicles of Narnia series, by C. S. Lewis

Pippi and Mr. Nilsson, from the Pippi Longstocking books, by Astrid Lindgren

Willy Wonka, from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, by Roald Dahl, based on the illustrations by Quentin Blake

Matilda, from Matilda, by Roald Dahl, based on the illustrations by Quentin Blake (with an homage to the Mara Wilson movie)

Peter Pan and Tinker Bell, from Peter Pan, by J. M. Barrie

Merlin and Archimedes, from The Sword in the Stone, by T. H. White, based on the illustrations by Dennis Nolan

Pinocchio, from Pinocchio, by Carlo Collodi, based on the illustrations by Enrico Mazzanti

Alice, White Rabbit, and Cheshire Cat, from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll, illustrated by John Tenniel

Rupert Bear, from the Rupert stories, created by Mary Tourtel and continued by Alfred Bestall, John Harrold, Stuart Trotter, and others.

Arthur Read, from the Arthur series, written and illustrated by Marc Brown

Tin Woodman and Scarecrow, from the Land of Oz series, by L. Frank Baum, based on the illustrations by W. W. Denslow and John R. Neill

The Cat in the Hat, from The Cat in the Hat, written and illustrated by Dr. Seuss

a frog on a flying lily pad, from Tuesday, written and illustrated by David Wiesner

Charlotte, from Charlotte's Web, by E. B. White

[a-cloud-for-dreams]

one of the reasons why it lives in the woods is better than it lives beneath is because of the catharsis it gives to arguably the ultimate victim of its story - jane. jane's spirit is kept on earth by the power, unable to rest after a sudden and violent death. she eventually comes to her senses and is "peacefully" set free by either mc or noah in the endings where noah does not kill mc. after years of being some shadow being in the woods, she is free. it's a sad ending because either mc or noah has to take her place, but it's ultimately still cathartic.

by contrast, josephine doesn't get that. sure, she's allowed the catharsis of fucking up pine springs and beating up arthur, but the casting aside of her soul isn't the same as it was with jane. she is forcibly removed by mc in the middle of her rage with no real comfort from mc for the decades she's had to relive her death. she gets no real moment of comfort before her soul is released - no "you can rest now" as it was with jane. and ultimately, that lack of catharsis and comfort for josephine is what makes ilitw as a story better than ilb.

[slaughter-kin]

SFW alphabet: Arthur Morgan

a/n: warning not proofread!!

i’ve been obsessed with this man since 2018 so i figured it was time to write about him on here

as always if you have any comment or critiques leave them in the comment section! also reblog as are nice!

also credit to saradika for the dividers!!

A= Affection (How Affectionate are they? How do they show affection?

𐚁₊⊹ Arthur isn’t much into PDA. He may kiss the side of your head or give you a quick peck before leaving on a mission. The only time I see him actually not caring about PDA is when he’s drunk and then he’s very grabby.

𐚁₊⊹ However when it just the two of you, he is very touchy. he likes to have his hands on you at all times.

𐚁₊⊹ I definitely feel like his love language is acts of service and quality time.

𐚁₊⊹ Whenever he leave for a mission and comes back he always like to bring you back something small that he knows you like or something that reminds him of you. Also around camp he will do your chores without even being asked.

B= Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

𐚁₊⊹ Arthur would constantly tease you. Like we see with any of his interactions with the gang, but with you as a best friend he would say a little jab and then grin at you to let you know he was just teasing.

𐚁₊⊹ also having Arthur as a best friend means you would have someone constantly in your corner. he is extremely protective of the ones he cares for.

C= Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

𐚁₊⊹ Arthur would say he doesn’t cuddle. this is a lie.

𐚁₊⊹ the only time I could see him cuddling in public is if you two are sitting around the camp after most of the gang have bent to bed. then he’d probably pull you in his lap or have an arm wrapped around your side.

𐚁₊⊹ HOWEVER in private this man loves to cuddle. he likes holding you in his arms and feeling like a protector.

𐚁₊⊹ Sometimes after he’s been gone for a longer period of time or a mission was especially tiring all he craves is to hold you in his arms.

D= Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

𐚁₊⊹ That is a constant internal struggle with Arthur, i mean that’s a big reason him and mary’s relationship ended. but yes i do believe he would want to settle down, if he ever got out of the gang. He would want a small house with his partner with enough room outside for horses.

𐚁₊⊹ At camp he is always trying to help everyone out with chores and especially his partner. Grimshaw asked you to cut wood? He’s already on it! Like i mentioned earlier acts of service would be one of his love languages so helping his partner out wouldn’t feel like a chore, he would it because he wants to make things easier for you.

E= Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) 

𐚁₊⊹ yay now i’m gonna cry. Arthur is 1000% committed to the gang so more than likely it would end over something of that nature.

𐚁₊⊹ It would obviously be done in person. He may get a little cold just to distance himself from i guess the emotional aspect of breaking up with a partner. of his partner broke up with him i think he would of course be upset but wouldn’t show it just nod in understanding. however if he did it, he would just be kinda forward and straight to the point, then probably leave very shortly after it happens.

F= Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

𐚁₊⊹ When Arthur is in a relationship with someone he is 100% committed.

𐚁₊⊹ With marriage that’s a little tricky. Again obviously with Mary, he wanted to marry her but the situation with the gang. Then of course with Eliza, but that situation was a little different.

𐚁₊⊹ However, if he found someone that understood him and understood his commitment to the gang, then yes I do believe he would marry them. I don’t think it would be a quick process though, it would take a while for him to get to that step and a lot of built up trust in his partner.

G= Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) 

𐚁₊⊹ Arthur would say he’s not a gentle/ good man. His hands are dirty and he’s an outlaw, however with his partner he would be as gentle as he could possibly be.

𐚁₊⊹ I mean we’ve all seen how he treats women in the game.

𐚁₊⊹ Of course if you guys got into an argument he may say something he regrets and hurts you, but after the fighting is over and both of you had calmed down he would come back over and apologize.

H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

𐚁₊⊹ Back to the pda thing, he wouldn’t be hugging you in public or anything like that. However in private it is a completely different story.

𐚁₊⊹ I feel like a real hug from Arthur, not just like a quick one with a pat on the back, would be so comforting. Arthur is a broad dude so his arms would just engulf you and make you feel safe.

𐚁₊⊹ so while hugs aren’t super common when they do happen they are something to relish in.

I= I love you (How fast do they say the L=word?)

𐚁₊⊹ This would take a while

𐚁₊⊹ Firstly, i feel like Arthur would struggle admitting to himself that he has those feelings for you to himself. he has been hurt before, and we all know he doesn’t have the best self- image of himself, so he would also probably feel like you wouldn’t feel the same way even if it painfully obvious that you did.

𐚁₊⊹ Once there is an actual confession, whether is be from him or you and you actually do get together. Again he would probably struggle to admit the feelings are that deep.

𐚁₊⊹ So I would say it would take a while for him to actually say I love you to his partner just because of all the mental barriers he and you as his partner would have to break down. However when he does say it, he 100% means it, no doubt.

J= Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

𐚁₊⊹ I don’t believe he gets jealous often. However when he does get jealous he just kinda goes quiet. I think he more so turns into a ‘They realized they could do way better than me’ situation for him mentally rather than him getting jealous, if that makes sense??

𐚁₊⊹ So I feel like he would just kinda get a little distant and quiet and then you would have to reassure him that you do love him and that he is good enough.

K= Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they  like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

𐚁₊⊹ Oh lord

𐚁₊⊹ Kisses with Arthur are amazing. Whether it be just a rushed peck before he has to leave or it’s a tender loving kiss in private. There would always be emotion in that kiss, letting you know how he feels.

𐚁₊⊹ also you’re telling me with a man who’s lips look ike that, he gonna be a bad kisser?? no way

𐚁₊⊹ Favorite place for him to kiss his partner: Probably on the forehead. there is something so tender in the act. Him holding in his arms while softly pressing a kiss on your brow. It’s a tenderness he doesn’t get to show often, so when he does get to do it, it’s his favorite.

𐚁₊⊹ Favorite placed for him to be kissed: I know it a little bit of a basic answer but probably on his mouth. He loves the feeling of your lips on his, the intimacy of it all. How warm and inviting they are and how you can make every worry or doubt go away just by pressing a kiss to his lips.

𐚁₊⊹ also he would never admit it but hand kisses are his favorite too. his hands are dirty with crime so for you the the best thing that has ever happened to him, takes his hands and presses small kisses to his knuckles that have beat people. he feels a little shame i suppose, but also he feels incredibly loved at the same time.

L= Little ones (How are they around children?)

𐚁₊⊹ Just going based of the game and not even hc he is amazing. Just look how he is with Jack.

M= Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

𐚁₊⊹ Whenever there is a mission and you two are together on it, I don’t think he would be as relaxed. Just because there is the chance that something could happen. He would probably keep watch throughout the night to let you sleep, and maybe have some coffee waiting on you when you wake up.

𐚁₊⊹ However if it is a trip just for you two and you are camping or at a lodge, he likes to hold you as long as he can. He likes to hold you in the soft hours of the morning and just pretend even for a moment that it is just you two in the world.

𐚁₊⊹ I do think though that he would always like to wake up before you just so that he can sneak not so shameful stares at your sleeping peaceful face.

N= Night (How are nights spent with them?)

𐚁₊⊹ Again it is all about setting, but just for the sake of this I’ll say it’s at a camp.

𐚁₊⊹ whether it be sitting by the fire just basking in each other’s presence or in the private of your guys tent, holding each other talking in whispers so you don’t wake everyone up.

𐚁₊⊹ nights are always a little more quite because there is no rush to start the day, or the build up to what will happen once everyone is awake. it’s just a quite time for the two of you.

𐚁₊⊹ I also believe Arthur would love stargazing

O= Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) 

𐚁₊⊹ yeah this is definitely a slower reveal.

𐚁₊⊹ Arthur is not open about his feelings at first. It would take a level of trust to be built before he would start being vulnerable.

P=Patience (How easily angered are they?)

𐚁₊⊹ With his partner i don’t think he could get easily angered. It would have to be a pretty good argument for him to get angry, and even then he would never harm them or anything like that. he may say some things out of anger that he immediately regrets, but i do believe if he ever got so angry over an argument with his partner he would just walk away and cool down before things got too heated.

Q= Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) 

𐚁₊⊹ He remembers a lot. Obviously he wouldn’t be able to remember everything single thing you mention in passing, but he would remember a lot.

𐚁₊⊹ Like the flowers that you said you like the smell of or your favorite kind of candy.

𐚁₊⊹ and whenever you aren’t together and he sees these things he would always make it a point to get it for you, just to see your face glow in surprise and happiness that he remembered something that small.

R= Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

𐚁₊⊹ Probably seeing how well you just accepted him for the man he is and not trying to change him into someone he isn’t.

𐚁₊⊹ Arthur is a good man no matter how much he insists he isn’t, and for you to see that in him and for him to know that you believe in him 100% that’s a feeling he isn’t used to, and something he would always remember.

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

𐚁₊⊹ are you joking? this man is so protective!! and it’s not because he feels like he needs to just because he is a man, it’s because he loves providing the people he cares about with a sense of protection, he likes being a protector.

𐚁₊⊹ for him a sense of protection, would you always being in his corner. like always taking up for him, and supporting him. that would give him the most sense of being secure.

𐚁₊⊹ and of for how he would protect you, i mean it’s 1899 and he is an outlaw and this is a cowboy game, you do the math

T= Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

𐚁₊⊹ it’s not an extremely common thing to go out on a date when you’re an outlaw, so as for dates that would be stretched far and in between

𐚁₊⊹ however for anniversaries, i feel like he would try to make an effort. it probably wouldn’t be anything grand, more so like him picking your favorite flowers and waking you up with a cup of coffee saying happy anniversary type thing.

𐚁₊⊹ and we’ll as i’ve mentioned before with everyday tasks, he has no problem with that, he loves helping out his partner.

U= Ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

 𐚁₊⊹ i would say when when you two get into really heated arguments, him saying something hurtful. he almost instantly regrets it and feels bad for days after, even if you two have made up.

V= Vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

𐚁₊⊹ lmao he is so not concerned with how he looks, he already thinks he’s ugly. however if you mention that you like his hair or beard a certain why he will try his absolute damnedest to keep it that way.

W= Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

𐚁₊⊹ He would have to be okay without you and you without him because of the environment that you two would be in. However it doesn’t stop him from always wanting you around.

X= Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) 

𐚁₊⊹ i will die on this hill. Arthur would 1000% draw his partner in his sketchbooks. he would have whole pages dedicated to you. it would be random things like your side profile, you cutting wood, taking care of the horses.

𐚁₊⊹ he also seems to me like the type of guy that would stare at his partner a lot. whether he means to or not, and if you catch him doing it he would totally deny it but there is a slight warmth to his skin.

Y= Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

𐚁₊⊹ just to say it to get it out of the way. abuse and things of that nature

𐚁₊⊹ and i’m gonna make these a little silly cause i don’t want to get in too deep

𐚁₊⊹ i don’t think he would like taffy because of how it gets stuck in your teeth

𐚁₊⊹ would hate the feeling of wet socks

𐚁₊⊹ would not be a fan of spicy food, or more so couldn’t handle it lmao

Z= Zzz (What are their sleep habits?)

𐚁₊⊹ oh this man does not have a consistent bed time. just whenever he can get a couple of hours in.

𐚁₊⊹ but i feel like he likes to lay on his back with his partner laying on his chest and his arm around them, or him being the big spoon.

𐚁₊⊹ i also feel like he prefers sleeping out under the stars rather than sleep in the hotel. yes the beds are nicer than a bed roll on the ground. but he prefers sleeping under the stars with the sounds of nature.

𐚁₊⊹ also falls asleep in like 20 minutes and definitely snores

[oftlunarialmoon]

MOVIES ON YOUTUBE

Cats Don't Dance

The Borrowers

Osmosis Jones

Bratz Live Action Movie

Judy Moody and the Not Bummer Summer

Ugly Dolls

Old/B Horror Movies (scary warning)

Maya the Bee Movie

Sailor Moon S the Movie

Sailor Moon SuperS the Movie

Alpha & Omega: Journey to Bear Kingdom

Anastasia

Snow White

A Stork's Journey

The Ant Bully

Quackerz

Uncle P

I Am T-Rex

The Clique

Hoot

Pixies

Dan Vs. - The Wolf-Man

The Breadwinner

Just My Luck

Penelope

Twilight Zone: The Movie

Daisies (1966) (one of my favourite art films from Czechoslovakia in the pre-soviet era)

Into the Woods (2014)

Fantastic Mr. Fox

Sailor Moon (Original Japanese)

The Carol Burnett Show

Popeye Cartoon

Naruto (English Subtitled) (Subbed)

H2O: Just Add Water

The Dick Van Dyke Show

Hunter x Hunter (Subbed) (Subbed)

Ghostbusters

The Neverending Story

It Takes Two

Peanuts: Race for Your Life Charlie Brown

Thunder And The House Of Magic

Quest for Camelot

Adventures Of Shark Boy And Lava Girl

Arthur's Missing Pal

Ghost Hunters International

The Big Comfy Couch

Me, Eloise!

Kitchen Nightmares

Wow! Wow! Wubbzy

Death Note (Subbed) (Subbed)

Candid Camera

Flash Gordon

Street Fighter - The Animated Series

Hell's Kitchen

Captain Simian & the Space Monkeys

Hello Kitty

The Storyteller

The Weird Al Show

Treehouse Masters

Inuyasha (Subbed) (Subbed)

Care Bears: Grizzle-ly Adventures

Wow, I Never Knew That!

Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader

Bruno & The Banana Bunch

Care Bears: Welcome to Care-A-Lot

Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction

Patchwork Pals

ALF

Storm Chasers

Little Rascals Shorts

The Lone Ranger

All Dogs Go To Heaven

Baby Einstein Classics

Baby Einstein: The Sandbox

[lecsainz]

WHO I WRITE FOR

( back to nav || go to main masterlist || requests are OPEN )

If there's no one you want me to write about, send something in the inbox, and I'll take a look; I might try to write for you 😉

FORMULA ONE; charles leclerc, carlos sainz, daniel ricciardo, pierre gasly, lewis hamilton, george russell, mick schumacher, oscar piastri, lando norris, lance stroll, kimi raikkonen, sebastian vettel.

FORMULA TWO & THREE; arthur leclerc, ollie bearman, dennis hauger, paul aron.

COLLEGE HOCKEY; ethan edwards, mark estapa, rutger mcgroarty, luca fantilli.

NHL; matt barzal, jack hughes, luke hughes, quinn hughes, trevor zegras, vince dune, connor bedard.

NFL; travis kelcey, joey burrow, nick bosa.

FOOTBALL; mason mount, pedro gonzalez, pablo gavira, paulo dybala, vinicius jr., jude bellingham, antonie griezmann, joao felix, marc guiu.

RIODANVERSE; percy jackson, annabeth chase, grover underwood, luke castellan, clarisse la rue, nico di angelo, thalia grace.

HARRY POTTER; harry potter, ron wesley, hermione granger, fred and george wesley, draco malfoy, oliver wood, cedrico diggory.

OUTER BANKS; jj maybank, rafe cameron, sarah cameron, john b routledge, kiara carerra.

SPIDER-MAN; mcu!peter parker, miles morales, If you wanted a character being peter parker I can write too (ex: dylan obrien!spider-man).

MISCELLANEOUS; dylan obrien, logan lerman, nate archibald, tristan dugray, stiles stilinski, milo manheim, evan buckley, chris evans, tom holland.

[huariqueje]

Picnic in the Woods - Arthur Maderson

Irish, b. 1942 -

oil on canvas, laid down to panel, 66.5 x 81.8 cm.

[twola]

Defying Conventions

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI, A/B/O

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link ➵ Next

Navigating the world as an omega is hard enough - but navigating a friends with benefits relationship with an alpha is even harder. You're hell-bent on not being defined as anyone's property, not belonging to anyone - but biology has other plans. ABO. Honestly this is just smut.

It’s a dangerous game you are playing. 

You know that. He knows that. But living on a blade’s edge is something you all have been doing all of your life.

Your breath heaves as you come down from your high, sweat plastering your skin and your hair hopelessly tangled. 

Your limbs are also hopelessly tangled with his in the slightly lumpy bed. Sure, it wasn’t the Bastille in Saint Denis, but it was the best you could get in Valentine.

Beats his cot, it’s much too small for these activities anyway.

His lips gently press against your neck, tongue darting out against that sensitive spot under your scent gland, and you shiver delightfully in response, clutching at him everywhere.

He rumbles in approval, pressing up on one elbow to catch your lips in a long, satisfying kiss.

“Mmm, you like that?” His deep voice drips like honey from his lips as he pulls back, balancing on his forearms, his hips still pressed deeply into yours.

You smirk, running one hand through his hair, “What do you think, cowboy?”

Arthur’s knot pulses in your cunt, and you know it’s going to be several minutes more before it shrinks enough for him to extricate himself from you.

Not that you mind. Deep underneath it all, your bleeding omega heart yearns for it, though you would never speak those words into truth. 

He mustn’t know how you plead for him when you’re in the throes of your heat. How you beg, whispering into your pillow needily for him to come and fuck you, to knot you, to mate you, to breed you.

You don’t want to give anyone that kind of control over you. Even Arthur, your current bedmate with whom you’re aghast to admit you have been imagining all these things and more during your heats.

Your last heat was downright painful - the burning desire in your cunt couldn’t be slaked by your fingers. You wept, holed up in a cabin outside of Blackwater, wishing and pleading and begging for Arthur to come fill the emptiness within you.

But no - that was your rule. Never during your heat. The temptation would be too much. Hell, you gave up on refusing to let him knot you the third time you slept together. But never, never enough to tie you to him, to make you belong to him. You don’t want to be just some alpha’s omega. 

Even his.

Arthur leans down and places his lips upon yours again, moaning into your mouth when you open it for him.

For now, this arrangement suits you both. 

-

After the mess in Blackwater, after nearly freezing in Colter, finally - things seemed to settle down as the gang found refuge on Horseshoe Overlook.

A splendid time, of course, for Arthur to go into rut. When he came to you breathing heavily through his nose and his irises bleeding red, you supposed that it was better now than during all that previous mess. Even though you and he had not been together long enough for you to see him like this, you knew enough of alphas to recognize it when you saw it.

But rut - rut was a powerful thing. The kind of thing where he grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the laundry you were doing with a force that nearly knocked you over. Pulling you away from the camp, deeper into the forested area surrounding the gang’s hideaway.

“Fuck-” He curses as he stumbles through the woods, trying to get far enough away that he can touch you without some dumbass from camp interrupting.

You’re yanked forward into his embrace as he stops in a small clearing.

“Don’t you want to go to a hotel or somethin’?” You ask as he nips at your earlobe, unsure if you’d actually be able to remove yourself from him long enough to get to a hotel room.

“Naw-,” Arthur nearly growls in your ear, “Can’t wait that long to have you.”

You smile - there’s something incredibly endearing to see him so needy. Almost omega-like, if you had to put a descriptor on it.

“Show me what a good little omega you are.” His voice is rough like he’s been gargling gravel.

You nod, completely under the spell of his dominance. Leaning back against the tree, you hike up your skirts to pull your bloomers down, letting them flutter to your ankles as Arthur’s hand shoots forward between your legs, coating his fingers in the slick that’s accumulated there.

He growls in approval, his other hand working at his gun belt. After a few moments of finagling his belt crashes to the ground in a heap of leather and metal.

“How - how do you want me?” You ask meekly. 

Meekly? That is a word you would never use to describe yourself. But now, with Arthur’s eyes blazing red, his muscles bulging and his breath heaving like a wild animal, your instincts overrule everything and you just want to submit.

“Present to me, little omega,” Arthur smirks as he moves to press the entire line of his body against yours, engulfing you in the warmth of his embrace.

You sigh in contentment as you tilt your neck upward, allowing him access to the sweet-smelling gland under your jaw.

“God-” he rasps, his cock ramrod hard against you as he buries his face in your neck, “Gonna fuck you so good, darlin’.”

You moan in response and grab his wrist, shoving his hands back between your legs, where you drip with unmet need. As he mouths against your neck, his hand probes between your folds before he slides two fingers into your cunt, making you mewl as he begins to thrust his fingers in and out of you, coating them in your slick. 

His other hand immediately paws at his gunbelt, yanking the leather hard enough that it whines as he unravels it from his hips. In a blur of heavy breathing and dizzying arousal, he removes his hand from you and maneuvers you to the ground, your skirts hiked up as he peels his pants down like a man possessed. As he crawls over you, you look between your legs to see him hard and ready for you, the beginnings of his knot swelling before he even has a chance to press himself into your heat.

You mewl as he covers you and desperately pushes in, with one long, forceful stroke of his cock, he buries himself in your cunt without preamble. Your slick eases the entry, but still, the ache of his intrusion makes you gasp as you get used to that double-edged sword of pain-pleasure. You dig your nails into his shoulders as he retracts his hips and presses forward again, unrestrained in a way he has never been with you before. 

He’s not gentle, not in the depths of his rut. He slams his hips into yours like some wild beast, grunting and snarling as he uses your body to slake his needs. You whimper with each thrust, your head dipping backward out of biological habit, and you bare your neck to him completely. Time becomes irrelevant as he rocks your hips into the earth below.

“Gonna fill-” his breath stutters, “y-you up, sweetheart-”

“Yes,” you plead, and he throws his hips into yours one final time before you feel the sharp pain-pleasure of his knot expanding, locking himself into you. It’s naught but a few seconds more that he lets out a long breath, his cock twitching within you as he lets loose his spend.

Draping himself over you, the harshness of your coupling quickly fades as he catches his breath. The red rims around his pupils begin to fade as he returns to a state of mind not completely controlled by his sex drive.

“I, uhm… it’s gonna be a while.” Arthur admits sheepishly, tucking his head back toward your neck as his breathing slowly starts to even out.

You cock an eyebrow at him as a blush forms on his cheeks. He nuzzles gently at your neck as you tense slightly.

“How is that any different-”

“Like… a while longer.”

You purse your lips and narrow your eyes, “How long?”

“…An hour?”

“Arthur.” You snip back at him, frowning, “And you couldn’t… y’know, do this in a bed?” He finally presses himself up from where he had buried his face in your neck.

He smiles down at you, adjusting himself on his forearms to keep most of his weight off of you. “Sorry darlin’, couldn’t wait.”

You roll your eyes, but as he leans down to kiss you, you eagerly return it. “At least,” you whisper between kisses, “Let’s lay on our sides if we’re gonna be here a while.”

Through a jumble of limbs, the two of you finally situate yourselves on your sides, one of your legs thrown over his hip where you remain joined. You toss your skirts over the both of your legs and hips, shielding yourselves from anyone unlucky enough to stumble by.

“One more thing, sweetheart.”

You frown as you feel your shoulder dampen from the damp patch of moss you’re laying on. This blouse won’t get another wear out of it before it goes into the laundry tub…

“What now?”

Arthur lets loose a breath from his nose, and you notice his pupils are blown and the fingers over your hips pulse as he squeezes your hip hard.

You feel him rock forward ever so slightly - as much as his burgeoning knot will allow, and you understand what’s happening.

Arthur groans, quietly at least, his eyes fluttering shut. The blooming of warmth from where you are joined makes your cunt quiver.

“And how many times is that going to happen?” You huff, feigning annoyance but secretly, in that damned omega heart of yours, you cannot help but to love this moment, locked together with an alpha who chose you during his rut.

“Few times…” Arthur mutters.

A lopsided grin forms across your face when you kiss his reddened cheek. There’s a growing part of your heart that wishes you were heating. A traitorous part, one that longs to belong to someone. One that longs to belong to him.

Against everything you’ve fought for, the hard-won independence and defiance of your biology, here you are, wishing and wanting to be owned. To be marked. To be bred.

Is this the true nature of an omega? 

He softly presses his lips against yours, and damnit, you sigh contentedly as you grasp at his shirt. Arthur winds his arms around your shoulder.

Damn him, damn him properly.

-

Unlike your situation with Arthur, the gang spirals ever downward - from getting chased out of Valentine by Cornwall’s goons, to Sean’s death at the hand of the Grays, to the Pinkertons finding their last camp. And Christ, that’s not even counting Jack being kidnapped.

It’s like the world is imploding around the Van der Lindes.

Thankfully Jack has been returned.

Dutch has been doing more and more in the city, and the men have been out and about quite a bit 

You rub at your brow absentmindedly, wiping the sweat that collects there. Damned swamps. Damn Lemoyne. Even inside, it's so damn hot… the sweat seems to be pouring off of you, even after the sun has gone down.

You rub at your neck absentmindedly as you sit on your cot in the large room you share with the other girls, alone for a moment with everyone else sitting around the fire outside.

Your finger swipes across your mating gland, and you pause as you look at your hand in the dim light.

Your palm has a hint of gloss upon it.

Fuck. Fuck.

It wasn’t just how stupidly hot and humid these damn swamps were. No. No, you were going into your heat.

Stumbling, you try to be as quiet as you can be as you get up from your cot, grabbing your gun from underneath your lumpy pillow, and heading to the back door, latching it gently behind you as you walk quickly away from the mansion toward the river. 

You look back at the old plantation house to see the yellow-orange hue of the oil lamp in Arthur’s room lighting up the night.

The traitorous voice in your head whispers in your ear.

This could all be over if you just went to him.

No. No, you won’t do that. You won't be someone’s property. Even his.

You shiver as another jolt runs through your body, breaking out in a sweat you know to be from your heat-fever. You swallow, turning back around, and stepping away on unsteady feet, you head south, your revolver gripped tightly in your trembling hand.

Your breathing is heavy and labored as you make your way slowly to the arcing path at the edge of the property. By some miracle, you’re able to stay upright over the rope bridges and prevent yourself from becoming alligator bait.

Leaning against a kudzu-covered tree, you curse under your breath as you feel your slick begin to come. Saint Denis glitters in the distance as you pant, out of breath and you know you can’t go much further. 

A run-down shack on the edge of the Lanaheechee seems to be your only option. You press onward, your boots dragging through the swampy mud and ankle-deep river water as you haul yourself toward the old shack, praying that it isn’t already occupied.

Fortunately, in the one stroke of luck you are having tonight, it’s not. You can at least pull a chair in front of the door to keep it closed before you collapse to the floor, breathless, clutching at your gun as you try to drag yourself to the corner of this small room, tears finally bursting from your eyes as you lean back against the wall.

Goddamnit.

You’ve been so wrapped up with Jack’s disappearance and the move to Shady Belle that you completely lost track of when you were due to have another heat. You should have prepared. You should have packed supplies and locked yourself in a hotel room in Rhodes or Saint Denis or anywhere.

You shudder again as a feverish wave hits you, and the trickle between your legs is more noticeable. A sob escapes your mouth as you lean your head back on the old wooden wall, cursing yourself and your existence in this damned omega’s body.

Waves of feverish need threaten to drown you as you curl in on yourself, panting, your hand diving beneath your skirts to try to assuage the burning, but you know, nothing you do will quench it.

You’ve hiked your skirts up over your knees and worked your bloomers down your thighs when you hear heavy footsteps on the porch outside. Cursing again, you right yourself and grab at your gun, your heart dropping as someone starts to try to open the door.

The door bursts open with a hail of splintered wood and you huddle yourself in the corner of the room, raising your revolver toward the door. The gun shakes violently as you pant, dizzy and feverish in the throes of your heat.

“Shit, sweetheart.”

You can barely see straight, but you know that voice. The gun drops from your shaking hand as you cry out in need, clattering on the floor.

Arthur’s heavy footsteps rush towards you, and he drops to one knee at your side and cups his hand softly under your jaw, lifting it gently to make eye contact with you. Tears stream down your face, over your flushed cheeks as all you can make out is a watery visage of his frame looming above you.

“Are you hurt? Jesus, you're scaring me.” Arthur looks you all over, his other hand running down your arms to look for any wounds.

God, everywhere he touches you is fire.

You sob aloud and Arthur immediately sits down next to you and pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around you. 

“ ‘S okay, I’m here.” He says soothingly as he rubs your back, “Saw the tracks of you leavin’ camp on foot… what are you doin’ out here?”

You wonder how on God’s green earth he’s not affected by your sorry state when all of a sudden he shudders, his arms tightening around you near painfully.

He curses under his breath as he pulls you off of his lap and back onto the floor next to him. You mewl pitifully at the loss of contact with his body.

His large hand cups your cheek and you open your bleary eyes to look at him.

Arthur’s blue eyes have started to bleed into red, he winces slightly when he sees the gold of your irises.

“Christ, you’re in heat.”

You sob again, one of your hands flying to your lower abdomen as your body cramps in furious need, here he is, here’s your alpha, he can make this all go away.

All your life, you’ve fought against the nature of being an omega. You’ve locked yourself away during your heats, and you’ve pushed back violently from the idea of needing someone to take care of you. To own you. You’ve hated the helplessness of it all, but it seems like it’s all caught up to you here in this run-down cabin on the edge of the swamps.

“Sweetheart -” Arthur rumbles, his voice growing low, dangerous, but his tone still gentle and patient.

“It hurts so much.” You’re able to choke out, doubling over in pain as Arthur catches your shoulders.

“Y’gotta want this- Christ, I’ll do anything for you, but-” he pants, righting you and keeping a strong hold on your shoulders, “Y’gotta want this.”

Your voice cracks, “I…”

It is so hard to put into words, not when you’ve lived your life trying to escape the truth of your nature.

You’re so close to letting the words spill from your mouth - I want you, I always want you, I want to belong to you -

“I… I hate this- bein’ an omega. I don’t want to be… owned by someone… I want, I want-”

I want you to belong to me.

“Sweetheart.”

You moan pitifully in response.

Arthur gets up on one knee, and another crack of pain shoots through you as he inches away from you. It is assuaged briefly when you feel his hands on your shoulders trying to keep you upright.

“I can stand watch outside. I’ll make sure you’re safe.” Arthur’s hands move from your shoulders once he’s established that you can hold yourself up, to grasp at your hands, reassuring.

“I-” You wince and take a breath, feeling your slick soaking your bloomers beneath your skirts, “I don’t want that..”

“I’ll give you everythin’.” Arthur nearly croaks, his hands tightening their grip on yours involuntarily.

“Will ya-” You swallow your pride as you shift uncomfortably, sweat creeping down your neck along with the sweet-smelling oil from your scent gland, “Will you mate me?”

Arthur swallows visibly, “I will.”

“Will you-” You trail off, looking down at his hands holding yours, the heat radiating off your body, the thrumming need in your core… you close your eyes, let out a final breath of resistance, and give in to what you realize you truly desire.

“Will you breed me? Will you give me a part of you to create somethin’ new?”

Arthur’s hands nearly crush your own. “I had a boy once, he died along with his mother. I never mated her.”

You realize you’ve gone too far, you go to pull your hands back from him, but his grip does not let you go. You look back up at him, to his red eyes bleeding his own biological need for you, and cannot look away.

“Ain’t that stupid no more.”

“You mean…?” You ask timidly.

Arthur Morgan gets up on his knees again and gently, but with a barely concealed strength underneath his skin, pushes you to lie on the floor.

“I’m gonna knot you, girl. And if it doesn’t take, I’m gonna keep fillin’ you til it does.”

The cry that escapes your mouth sounds like a wounded animal, a sound of such primal need you were unsure that it really came from you. You tear at your clothing, far too hot on your skin, hiking up your skirts to grab at your bloomers again.

Arthur’s large hand brushes yours aside and presses against your cunt, he groans loudly when he feels the wetness of the cotton shielding you. He grasps it and roughly pulls on your bloomers, tearing the cotton off your body and you cry out pathetically, needily.

He throws your skirts up around your waist, baring your lower half, as he gets up on his knees and starts unlatching his gunbelt. It tumbles to the floor loudly as he undoes his suspenders from his pants and shoves them down, his large cock bobbing upward the instant it is freed from its confines.

Once, twice, three times he strokes it as he moves to lean over you, his free hand next to your head holding himself up. Before he covers you completely, you shiver as you stare at a bead of precum pearl on the head of his cock before dripping down to land on your thigh. You spread your legs for him and without any further preamble, he guides his cock to your opening and presses inside.

The amount of slick weeping from you should be embarrassing, he slides deeper into your cunt without resistance and groans while doing so, not stopping until your pubic bones touch each other.

You mewl as you feel him stretch you, fill you, satisfy the burning hunger deep in your body. Christ, if only he could never leave you - never leave you feeling hollow and alone. Christ, his flesh splitting you - so much more sensitive now, it is like you have been empty all your life and suddenly found the piece to fill you. You can’t imagine ever spending a heat alone again.

He gets down on his elbows to suspend himself just above you, rocking his hips slightly. Your legs wrap around his waist and he grunts in approval.

“H-how do you want it?” He hisses through his teeth, and when he opens his eyes again, you see his pupils blown and rimmed by red. The muscles of his neck cord along the collar of his shirt. He’s fighting off his baser instincts, it’s obvious to see. He’s gone into a rut, triggered by your heat.

That simply wouldn’t do.

“Rut me, alpha.” You whisper, and he groans aloud in response. Large, warm hands grasp at the back of your thighs and your legs are heaved up and over his shoulders.

Arthur bends you in half, snarling as he throws his hips down into yours and fucks into you with the force and brutality of an alpha in rut. You accept, mewling, loving every second of the near pain you feel as he thrusts himself into you. God, you wish this would never end.

He’s panting, straining, sweat dotting his brow - a sight to behold as he takes your legs off of his shoulder and allows them to fall open on either side of him. You can feel the swelling of him build as he grinds himself deeper into you before pulling out slowly.

Arthur throws his hips into yours with finality, and you scream aloud in overwhelming pleasure as his knot swells within you, deeper than he’s ever been before. He groans breathily before his lips find their way to your neck. You feel his entire body lurch into yours, smothering you, as he spills his seed into your waiting cunt. You whimper at the feeling of warmth blooming inside you before you yelp aloud as you feel his teeth encircle the gland on your neck and sink into your flesh.

This, this, this is what it means to be an omega, not to be owned like a piece of property, but to be wanted, needed by the one person in the world you’re mated to. Tears cloud your vision as you wince at the breaking of skin on your neck, your fingers digging in hard into Arthur’s back as a low moan flies free from your throat.

It takes several moments, but as both of your breaths begin to calm, Arthur presses up on his elbows and takes most of his weight off of you, his knot still strong, locking the two of you together. 

His river-blue eyes catch yours, and you smile at the red stain on his lips - the sign of his claiming you as his own. You raise your head to kiss him, the coppery taste of your blood heady as he opens his mouth to yours. A hand weaves through your messy hair, long having fallen out of the updo you had earlier in the day.

Arthur pulls back slightly, pressing his forehead against yours and letting his eyes slide shut. You press your lips up to his once more before whispering joyfully.

“You’re mine now.” 

He snorts but does not correct you. Here you are turning conventionality on its head, but Arthur is not the kind of man to throw it back in your face. With a tired, contented tone, he gives a sound of agreement before his low voice rumbles against your cheek.

“I am, little omega. All yours.” 

A rush of excitement fills you at his spoken admission, and with a strength you didn’t know you had, you press your hands onto his shoulders and roll him over, so that you are splayed out over his hips.

“Mine.” You gasp out as his hands clamp to your waist like vices. You begin to gyrate your hips over his, the only thing you can do with his knot still hard and keeping your hips locked together.

Your hands land on his pectorals, and his eyes flutter in pleasure as his breathing speeds up, moans bubbling up from deep in his chest.

“Fill me up, alpha. Your omega wants you to breed her.”

Arthur’s eyes shoot open at your words and in naught but a moment, his hips leave the cabin floor and he groans out another round of completion, spending within your heat with a loud grunt.

You lean over him playfully as he catches his breath. A triumphant smile beams across your face as you sit back up on his hips and pull your hair out of your face, twisting it back in a messy bun - just about all you can handle right now.

Arthur’s large, warm hands encircle your waist, his thumb rubbing at your hip bone as he calms down.

“Yer gonna kill me tonight, aren’tcha?” He breathes up at you, a grin appearing across his face as well.

“How many more times you got, old man?” You giggle, and Arthur shoots up into a sitting position, making you squeal as he tips you backward, letting you untuck your knees and swing your legs around him once more.

“Plenty enough to keep you satisfied.” He nips at your chin playfully.

“Oh yeah?”

“UUh-huh” he rumbles into your jaw as he kisses back toward your ear, “Gonna be drippin’ with me by the time I’m done with you.”

You press back on his shoulders so that he looks at you fully. You study his face for a moment before one of your hands brushes back a strand of his honeyed hair behind his ear.

“I don’t want to just be your omega.” You whisper, your eyes falling down his face to his neck, knowing yours is marred with his mark.

“You ain’t, sweetheart. You’re my partner. My equal.”

“But how can an omega ever be an alpha’s equal?” That voice that’s been teasing you all your life pipes up before you have a chance to quiet it.

The next thing you know, you’re dipped backward onto the floor, gently spread out as Arthur lays on top of you, still joined at the hip.

He leans down and presses a kiss softer than he should be allowed to give upon your lips. 

“Since I need you jus’ as much as you need me, maybe more.” He breathes, rolling his hips against you, causing you to gasp as his knot slips a little in the vice of your cunt.

“Promise?” You whine breathily as you can tell he’s heading toward another orgasm.

“P-promise.” He stutters.

Arthur presses his lips to yours with a finality that sends you reeling, clutching at him as he pours himself into you once again.

[gayandfairycore]

Just hold me

Summary: y/n pendragon, is well protected by the knights of the round table and her big brother but when they’re ambushed in the woods and the capable princess is hurt, Gwaine comes to her rescue. But is he too late to save her?

A/n: I love my Irish husband!! gwaines one of my absolute favourites, I Also couldn’t resist making him reader’s bodyguard ahh so cute!! Princess x bodyguard trope or well Princess x knight. I swear it does end in fluff (nothings ever permanent) Also c/h/n means childhood nickname.

Warning: blood, fighting, reader stabs people, readers kinda savage, until she gets owned, angst, major character death, gwaines a little ooc, grammar mistakes.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

The, cool breeze of the forest blew through your hair as the horses continued their trot through the woods neighbouring Camelot, your friends hyper aware of every sound, of every creak in the trees, that blew the leaves. They were wary of every rustling of breeze, and every old muddy footprint.

Everyone on edge since morgana turned a new leaf, and decided her siblings were her enemy and the crown was her life’s purpose, it made a heavy sadness linger in your heart. A great deal of dread that made your skin itch.

Your e/c eyes observed the surroundings, Arthur infront, Merlin beside him, you behind Merlin Gwaine next to you, and the rest of the knights littered all around you all in a protective circle, so that if your sister crawled out from the wood work and decided to attack you they would be ready. And prepared for a fight with the witch.

Out of the both of you Arthur had been taking her betrayal harder than you, he had been sulking in his room with Merlin more than usual and the loss of your father, it was a wound too fresh for the man.

From morganas betrayal, to uthers death, magic seemingly left only destruction in its wake, and Arthur’s life felt like it was falling apart. you were Arthur’s only hope.

the only one he had still on his side. still alive. If the boy was protective before he became even more protective after your sisters betrayal, so protective he assigned gwaine as your personal knight.

Smooth talking, drunk, sticks his hands in beehives, Beautiful, talented, quick witted, gwaine. You never wanted a personal guard but he was talented with a sword, and it helped he looked good in the uniform. So you weren’t too angry at your brother thinking you needed protection, you were fully capable of course you’d been sparing with Arthur since you were kids and beating him for just as long.

But no matter your skills you were defenceless against your sisters magic. everyone was.

You let out a nervous breath at the thought, the hairs on the back of your neck started to stand up your purple velvet cape obscuring your face but still you felt bare, like there were eyes on you.

Whirling your head around your eyes bore into the wooded bush a few meters away looking for any movement or any sign of life, you observed the bush with narrow eyes, paranoid.

“Are you alright Princess?” gwaine asked his horse matching your pace beside you, as he leaned to your ear, his hot breath fanning your face as he whispered. His brown eyes staring protectively at you.

“Hm? oh- yes fine…” you trailed off eyes never leaving the trees, your heart dropped to your stomach as you gripped the reigns tightly in your hands the leather straps rough against your skin as you squeezed tightly.

your twin daggers strapped to your hips, their weight giving you a sense of comfort as your brain started to catastrophize.

“You don’t look alright.” Gwaine pressed, his eyes flickering over your face protectively, You could tell he didn’t believe a thing you said. Ignoring the fluttering in your chest you couldn’t stop looking at the woods around you something felt off.

“There’s nothing there, princess.” The man reassured his voice stern but gentle, his hand placed over yours on the reigns. And his comforting hands over yours made you release your bruising grip on the reigns.

“I know, I just have…a bad feeling.” You murmur, your eyes swimming with worry a mix of familiar paranoia, and intuition.

gwaine was inclined to believe you and your bad feeling when he caught sight of a dark figure hidden behind trees.

The man had been hiding his own unsettling feeling since the moment your group ventured further into the forest, but Arthur appeared unaware of his sister, and her guards paranoia as he commanded the group, “we’ll stop here, let the horses rest.”

Arthur always had a voice that seemingly echoed even if he didn’t want it too, and by his tone of voice he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Your eyes locked with Gwaines and it appeared the man didn’t have enough energy to mask his emotions this time. Anxiety was present in his eyes. A wave of nausea washed over you.

As Arthur lead the seven of you to a small grassed area surrounded by trees a small stream only a few steps away the soft continuous flow of water hid the shakiness of your breaths as you shrugged your leg over your stallion, your leg leaving his stirrup as you hit the floor, Gwaine already circling around to you his reigns in hand as you lead your horses to the river.

“I have a bad feeling still. and I know you do too. Do not lie to me gwaine.” You pleaded to the man as you lead your horse to the stream and your hands run over your horses back as he drinks beside you. The cool breeze blowing under your cape.

“Please, Princess. I don’t want to worry you.” Gwaine eventually says his gaze lowered onto the stream at your feet.

“Please gwaine, you know nothing scares me.” You tease bumping his arm with yours but your voice betrays you it shakes as you speaks. you had lied to him you were scared. who wouldn’t be, you may have had the knights of Camelot to guard you but it would do nothing if you were caught by surprised and surrounded. Which was easier to do the longer you waited.

Gwaines gloved hand came out to hold yours in a tight grip, “nothing will happen to you princess I swear.” The dark haired man promises his dark eyes stern with promise.

Before you could reply to the man the whiz of an arrow souring past your head and shouts of your friends alert you to your fears and you whip your head up quickly looking into the trees around you, a large group of 60 men clad in dark clothes surrounded you.

Bandits working for morgana, great.

Sharing a look with Gwaine the man draws his sword and a smug smile graces his lips at the idea of a fight and you can’t help but think he looks really hot but the fight around you snaps you from your daydream and alerts you to pull your daggers from their sheaths.

And they glint dangerously in the light the shouts of your friends in your makeshift camp only a few few feet away, fades into nothingness far too focused on yourself and gwaine to worry for your friends. They had more knights than you and Gwaine did.

But by the sheer volume of bandits around, you and gwaine began to realise just how much trouble you’re really in. gravitating toward eachother you stood back to back as the leering bandits drew closer.

“Stay close Princess I’ll take majority. if they come at you, you know what to do?” Gwaine asked his sword out infront of him protectively

“Kill em?” You look up at the man with a tilt of your head a mischievous look in your eyes and the knight beside you laughs

“Yeah, kill em.” The raven haired man looks at you with a smug, slightly proud smirk on his face and he gentle elbows you to focus,

So you Hold up your daggers to protect your face an equally smug smile draws across your lips and in a blink of an eye the fight begins.

the silver sword of one man goes to come down on you and you parry it with ease holding it away from you as you slash across his chest with your other dagger, as his body leans to the side you plunge your weapon into his chest his blood staining your silver blade, and you watch in morbid curiosity as the man groans and he falls to the forest floor dead.

You don’t bat an eye at the corpse, Instead you find yourself ducking a long sword from another bandit as the whiz of arrows fly around you, you can’t see Gwaine in your periphery too busy avoiding the large man infront of you as he stalks toward you. no matter your height he seems to be giant.

“You’re going to die little dragon.” He laughs his voice like charcoal and his sword held easily in his hands

“No. I’m not.” You sneer spinning your dagger in your hand and planting your feet into the mud more as he goes to slash at your torso you leap backwards out of the way, he’s as slow as he is big but the power of his hits shake the very earth beneath your feet.

And what’s worse his powerful hits are full of accuracy, as he whirls around to hit you again and both daggers go to hold him off, the sounds of your blades grinding together hurts your ears and you grind your teeth determined to not die by this giant.

pushing his sword to the ground you surge forward planting your dagger into an artery by his leg in retaliation the giants blade comes towards you at full force his swing takes you off guard and you narrowly miss his blow that was meant to sever your head from your neck. and in doing so you don’t pay attention to the pain that lands itself in your shoulder.

The adrenaline masks any pain, but you’re angry now the smug smile of the bandit infront of you angers you so much you take your dagger in your hand and fling it into the eye of the giant Infront of you and the sharpness of your dagger embeds itself into his eye socket. His eye makes a horrid squish as blood and juices squirt. And the man drops dead beside you. Bus long sword falling beside him.

You sneer and grab your dagger from his eye and as you pull it from the socket more blood squirts, you exclaim in disgust as his blood stains your face

An angry shout from a small dirty blonde bandit fills the air as he makes quick action toward you his battle cry falling on deaf ears and you go to throw your dagger, gwaine beats you too it his sword lacerate the man’s throat and he falls dead easily.

Breathing a sigh of relief you look to the brunette knight and he nods in respect before going to fight more of the approaching bandits.

The sound of twigs breaking behind you urge you to duck and you narrowly miss a sword meant for your head instead you grab the man’s arm and fling him over you as he hits the ground with a groan, he lays underneath you as you prepare to plunge your dagger in his chest. his legs sweep yours and you too end up on your back beside the man and your weapon lays just out of reach as the man crawls ontop of you.

His hands grip your throat tightly and your eyes blow wide in panic as your claw at his hands it’s useless so your fingers vacate to his face and your fingers lodge into his eye sockets as his grip on your throat tightens

“Come on!” Your mind screams at you as blackness swims in your vision before a sword lodges through the man’s chest and drenches you in his blood Gwaine is there standing above you as he watches you cough desperate for air. His eyes filled with worry as he gives you his hand helping you to your feet as you continue to wheeze lungs screaming for air.

“Are you alright princess?!” His hands grip your biceps as he pulls you to his chest hands holding the back of your head in worry

“I’m fine, pretty boy. Thanks for saving me.” You nod at the man but your hands shake as gwaine hands you your discarded weapons the daggers bring you comfort as you look at the world around you still there are more bandits around you but it appears many have dissipated.

Whether they have retreated, or they’ve gone to cause your friends havoc you aren’t sure but you can’t find yourself to worry for your friends. You’re too busy looking into gwaines chocolate brown eyes, and you can’t help but place a kiss to gwaines cheek when you pull back from his bearded face you catch sight of an approaching man.

“DUCK!” You scream and the knight ducks just in time. You quickly bring one of your dagger to block their sword as they manoeuvre their blade back and then you both fall into a kind of deadly dance pushing further and further away from Gwaine. Your blades mash against each other and you continue to miss his slashes and jabs.

The bandit moves his sword quickly, too quick to dodge and he manages to cut off a piece of your hair and slice your cheek your blood begins to trickle down your face and in anger you jam your dagger through his leather armour and directly into the man’s heart.

His blade falls from his hold and he drops limply. His eyes glare at you the entire time his body fails him. The body collapses onto the bottom of you cape staining the purple darker with blood and you make the decision to cut the latch dropping your cloak so that nothing holds you down.

Your tunic, and pants cling to your body tightly stained with the blood of your enemies, you don’t care not about the bodies littering the forest floor, or the wetness in your boot from stepping through the stream for better ground to fight on. Not about your friends and if they’re fighting an onslaught of bandits. All you care about is not dying.

The volume of men have dipped significantly but there are still 4 or 5 of them and one man left is an archer quickly loading his bow and releasing the arrows at yourself and Gwaine, if you two were worse fighters he would’ve loaded quite a few into the pair of you marching toward the man you hold your daggers outward crimson blood drops from the tip and soaks quickly into the squishy mud ridden forest floor. The bandit quickly loads an arrow and lets it fly, you avoid his shot with ease ducking beneath it he knocks another and fires it in quick succession and you find yourself skidding against the mud it coats your pants as you miss his fire and the man is panicked now as you stand up,

And you watch his hands shake as he tries to load his bow, it’s too late, you’re on top of the man. “Please! Please your grace, Spare me. I have children! please” He whimpers beneath you and your heart aches in your chest

As your eyes rake the man’s figure you make the decision to hit him over the head with the butt of your dagger and you don’t spare the man another glance before you walk away.

Turning your back to the archer you observe the carnage, Gwaine had gotten quite a few bandits defeated in quick time, the man now intense fight with probably the best bandit here. he’s quick, and talented with a sword.

But Gwaine keeps his own, and you deem it safe enough to not watch the man anymore instead you find yourself up against the final man he’s large like the man you fought before, but this man is smart.

And his dagger drips with something other than blood, a deep blue, oozing liquid? poison. You quickly realise

And now you’re sure you never want to let this man’s weapon touch you. his stinking grey teeth peak through his lips as he sizes you up, the princess of Camelot, clearly exhausted. Clearly covered in a mix of blood and mud, and very obviously in pain. The giants sword from before had managed to rattle your teeth with his hit but you’d been so distracted it hadn’t even registered. clearly the adrenaline of your other injuries had began to wear off.

And This man is quicker then expected as he hurries to you, his sword cuts through the air like butter and he’s clearly just as skilled as the man battling against gwaine. And looking back on it they seemed to be twins.

the moment his blade comes too close for comfort you’re parrying his strike, and the grinding of blades are deafening in your ears.

the ache in your shoulder swells through you the gruesome cut oozing and it makes your strength falter you move slower the burning pain shooting through your shoulder sends you waves of more then just discomfort.

you feel bile well in your throat but you don’t falter as you slash at the bandit he avoids it with ease, every duck, every twirl, every slice, he avoids.

It’s like he’s been watching you? observing your moves? and it’s abundantly clear even with the exhaustion plaguing your muscles and the slick mud beneath you. It makes you worried.

Springing back away from the man you slash at his shoulder nicking him with the blade and watching as he cringes back in more annoyance than pain. and when his sword goes to make contact with your body you duck away from the man until eventually you find yourself behind him

just when things began to look up, just when you were finally winning.

Until The pained shout from gwaine only a few feet away causes you to lose focus and your gaze is set on the Irish man on the floor his chain mail dirty, his face covered in blood and mud, his hair a mess, and a sword held above the man. In a deadly fashion.

And your body moves before your mind and you find yourself flinging your dagger into the bandits back watching satisfied as the man falls dead over the top of gwaine, letting out a sigh of relief at the sight you completely forget that you were mid fight with a bandit yourself. A bandit with a blade coated in poison.

“Y/n!” Before you can get your bearings in order gwaines shouting Your name

And you turn just in time to see the man drive his sword in your side and you whip your head up to look at the man who just stabbed you a horrid smile on his face, as the sharp searing pain of a sword impaling you burns your insides. your warm blood trickles from the wound around the sword, and you drop your spare dagger to the floor unconsciously you seemingly have no control of your body, and your eyes shine with unshead tears. It’s the worst pain you’ve ever felt in your entire life like the world is spinning and your side feels like it’s on fire.

The man stand carelessly above you smiling a sickly smile as he rips his blade out of you and you don’t muffle your shout of pain, you know you’re going to die when the man brings his sword up to cut you down and your tears fall you can’t bare to look at his face your mind filling with thoughts of gwaine if you were going to die you’d die with the man you loved on your mind.

Shutting your eyes tightly you expect the killing blow, only to feel nothing? Cracking an eye open Gwaine’s sword embeds itself directly in the bandits heart, you watch as gwaine pulls his sword out quickly and rushes to your aid as he watches your knees buckle. And you don’t go to stop your knees from colliding with the mud instead your shaky hands go to hold your bleeding wound, your hand immediately stain with blood when they come into contact with the wound.

Gwaine Holds your bloody form in his arms your hands stained with your blood you feel sick to your stomach, and sweat begins to break on your forehead, you feel like you’re already losing feeling in your feet.

As Gwaines strong arms wrap around you as the knight lifts you up against him, his arms around your knees and shoulders respectively.

He moves quickly to the rest of the knights, and despite the delirius state you’re in from the lack of blood you can only heart your heart beat in your ears but everytime he runs you see a glimpse of his face and you can see he’s screaming.

Your heart constricts in your chest and you whimper in his arms “j-just hold me.”

the man looks down at you with eyes full of tears and that shine with something akin to love. But almost as quickly as the shine came its gone, replaced with fear. It makes Gwaine tighten his grip on you and scream louder

And through the blurriness of your vision you see your brothers scared face break the tree line and b-line to you, as your head lulls to the side you watch Arthur get closer to you and you feel him take you in his arms, sobs escape the young kings as he slumps to his knees you in his embrace “y/n- c/h/n, please don’t do this to me.”

Arthur mutters rocking you back and forth and you see Merlin over his shoulder, face white as a ghost. Hands tightly held over his mouth, and the last thing you see is the servant boy boss the knights around with commands about how to help you, before the darkness takes you.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

There’s a guttural ache in your bones from the fight and a dull burning from your stomach it’s accompanied with a hard pressure on your wound that makes you yell out a sickening blood curdling scream and by the feeling of multiple hands holding you down to stop the thrashing it’s abundantly clear Merlin’s trying his best to save you.

Your brothers hands are familiar as they grip your shoulders, holding you down, you’re alive, mentally you’re awake but you can’t open your eyes.

You can’t control your own twitching body, the wet feeling of your sticky blood on your side, but you can hear every little thing around you, and yet you still can’t open your eyes and there’s this horrible wheezing sound.

And you come to realise it’s your breathing…it feels like you’re breathing through sand and every breath you take fills your lungs with sand like an hour glass.

and then you feel that familiar pressure on your wound and suddenly you feel everything, every burning stabbing sensation, all over your body it burns as quickly and as hot as a wild fire and it feels like hours before you finally feel absolutely nothing again.

And you think maybe it lasts for awhile, but there’s no way to tell time. It’s funny when you can see nothing but the back of your eyelids and the world is dark and you can’t feel the muddy floor beneath your back. you can’t feel the sticks, and the dirt, and the sound of the stream, you can’t smell your brothers familiar scent, you can’t feel the wetness of your boot, or the dried blood on your body, and you can’t see gwaines face.

Or hear his comforting voice, you can’t discern anything but blankness and you half think you’ve stopped breathing. As if your very lungs don’t heave against the poison in your blood stream anymore

But you think whilst you’re trapped in darkness that Your nose bleeds, and your mouth fills with red blood and those who surround your body begin to realise how dire every second is.

Merlin is the only one who can save you. He’s the only one who can rip deaths cold hands from your body and ground you to earth. your chest doesn’t rise.

and those around you know you’re dead. And you can’t feel it yourself, like your spirit is lifting from the cage that is your body up into the sky, ripping through you and part of you is ready to go.

But Gwaine and Merlin will not allow it, Gwaine drops beside your body his hands pumping your chest to start your heart and his lips are on yours pumping oxygen into your lungs.

and it gives Merlin enough time to mutter a healing spell his eyes glow gold and its mere moments that your translucent spirit ripping from your vessel slams back into your body.

Gwaine still continues his assault on your ribs breathing air into your lungs, he ignores the metallic taste from your lips, and he pleads with every god he can that you will come back to him.

And it’s almost as if the gods deem him worthy.

And you wake up gasping for air springing up from your brothers hold your eyes snapping open your chest heaves with effort to fill your lungs and your heart beat is sluggish before beating hard and strong against your chest.

And Merlin’s hands are on your side checking your wound the gaping hole sealed, and Your wound is practically gone. The servant boy quickly bandages your side before anyone can notice but his bandages

Can’t hide the gross greeny purple tendrils that peak out from the off white plaster. Your side feels clean but the blood still sticks to your face and the pain in your side and shoulder still lingers but you can’t bring yourself to care when gwaine gently takes you from your brothers embrace and hold you so gently against him.

“Oh Princess, never do that to me again.” His calloused hands hold you against him tightly and he tries to mask their shaking.

But you don’t care pulling back from his holds Your eyes take his figure and you can’t help yourself, You smash your lips against his and his beard tickles your skin. and it takes him no time to kiss back his lips mash against yours in a feverish kiss. It’s like your lips fit together perfectly and you find yourself wishing to never let go of the knight in front of you.

His tears fall onto your skin and you don’t care, you pull him closer to your body and you don’t care when your lungs burn screaming for air.

You never want to be apart from him.

Not when you just tasted the sour nothingness of death. It doesn’t wait. It’s cold, and uncaring.

And Gwaine feels your hands shake as you pull him closer his heart physically hurts for you he’s sure you’re probably freaking out.

After you pull back from your kisses you look at the faces of your friends around you, Arthur’s blood shot eyes filled with tears stare at you with such fear, such uncertainty.

the ghostly look in his eyes as he looks at you tugs your heart strings. You realise he can’t differentiate if you’re truly here. And alive he had just seen his sister die. And be brought back.

Of course it would be a lot to process.

beside you Merlin his shaky hands and nervous smile his red hands stained with your blood, and his wet teary face that looks so scared as he looks at you with a mixture of nervousness at the use of his magic and happiness you’re alive.

And your eyes flicker to everyone around you from Leon, who you’ve known since childhood- to elyan, and Percival. who you haven’t known for such a long time but still felt their world shake when your heart stopped beating. You were their princess to see you die in front of them…it was heavy.

Your dead body would haunt them for the rest of their days,the cold desolate blue of your lips and the way your head lulled in gwaines arms.

Tears littered everyone’s eyes as your brother and Gwaine were the first to pull you into an embrace the rest of your friends quickly followed, their iron grip on you brought you so much love and peace.

A chorus of “I’m glad you’re alive” to “good to have you back” ranged from your friends before elyan was the first person to suggest moving to a safer area the unsettling feeling of the corpses scattered around you all made you uneasy, it especially made Gwaine the most uneasy, the man couldn’t stop his intrusive thoughts what if it was you they were leaving behind? What if you died and your corpse was left to decay on the muddy floor of the forest no one around to mourn you it made him feel a bit unwell.

So finally you all high tailed it out of there to a new camp well maned by your friends, a camp where absolutely no one could ambush you. Where it was safe enough for Merlin to patch up your friends injuries.

And night fell quickly the stars shone overhead the green grass served as a pillow under your head and the rocks surrounding you like a barrier from bandits.the ruins of an old castle like a comforting shield and The slight hill you all now camped on was far out of the forest of the rival kingdom where you all were ambushed, finally on safe ground.

Merlin had stayed close to you for most of the early evening to ensure you were alright. And that he didn’t seal up any left over poison.

Crickets chirped in the back ground as yourself and Merlin sat in silence staring at the fire. You turned to the boy, speaking gently “thank you, I know what you did.”

You smiled at the boy, a knowing glint in your eye and Merlin felt his heart drop as he shrugged

“It’s what anyone would have done, milady. I’m glad you’re still with us” Merlin smiled kindly he had a soft spot for the youngest pendragon she was always kind to him, and unlike her sister her perception of him didn’t change. Out of every pendragon she was probably the one Merlin trusted with his secrets the most.

You were Always clever and observant, you were definitely someone he’d protect with his life just like Arthur.

“That’s the thing though, Merlin. I was gone…I wasn’t- my heart stopped” you struggled to find the words putting your legs to your chest as you watched the flames

“I was dead. I felt my heart stop, my heart knew what was happening my- my soul? Was leaving my body and something pulled me back in. It wasn’t Gwaines kiss of life although it did help” you chuckled before you became serious again “It was you Merlin.” You spoke your voice shaky but sure of yourself as you looked the boy in his terrified eyes

“Please y/n It’s not like that.” Merlin pleaded, his hand reaching for you and his skin getting sweaty and nervous at the thought of the youngest pendragon knowing he had magic, it wasn’t that he didn’t trust her on the contrary he trusted her whole heartedly but he was always nervous to let people in on his magic it tended to get them killed.

Will, His father, Lancelot… Merlin hated how his magic could save lives but in the end he’s always lose something he hoped this time things would be different.

“I know magic when I see it Merlin, don’t worry I’d never tell. You saved my life. I should have you knighted” You smiled at the boy, before bumping your shoulders together.

“Oh please don’t-“ Merlin started disgust in his voice at the idea of joining your friends as a knight laughing at Merlin’s horrified face

“Don’t worry, I won’t. But really thank you Merlin. You deserve more credit” you smiled at the boy before pushing off of the ground and making your way to Gwaine over by the ruins watching the stars through the window on the second story lost in thought

“Mind if I join you?” You called, watching as the Irish man jumped clumsily almost falling through the window.

“Not not at all, please sit” Gwaine replied shuffling over sitting beside the man you watched the stars from the window in silence for a moment

“I’m sorry” you both spoke at the same time, swallowing a laugh at the unintentional overlap

“You go” you pressed sitting up and looking at Gwaine intently

“I’m sorry, I’m the reason you died…I didn’t protect you. It was my only job and I let you get stabbed.” Gwaine shook his head the man couldn’t bare to look at you in your eyes too afraid he’d see your lifeless ones staring back in a way he was thankful your eyes shut when you died.

In a way it looked like you were sleeping, only the lack of a rise and fall of your chest showed gwaine that you weren’t just sleeping. You were dead and it was gwaines fault.

The man blamed himself, kept running through the last battle moments over and over in his head. If he didn’t shout, if he was quieter maybe everything could have been avoided, or if he listened to your funny feeling maybe you all never would have even been ambushed.

It made Gwaine start to appreciate his friends “funny feelings” something Merlin and the youngest pendragon both shared Gwaine couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head that he was the reason everything happened.

“Gwaine” you placed your hand over his, “it wasn’t your fault, I know what you’re doing. Stop blaming yourself.” Your grip on gwaines hands tightened trying to reassure him it could have happened to anyone.

“But I should have listened to you. I didn’t and you died! You fucking died!” Gwaine cries, his hands cover his mouth to mask his sob he’s striped himself of his chain mail now he’s left wearing a blue tunic and a leather bangle that clings to his muscley arm you know it’s not the right time but god does he look good.

“Gwaine.” You shout shaking his shoulders so he’ll finally look at you

“Just shut up and kiss me.” You sigh in the silver light of the moon, its only Gwaine and yourself in the ruins and you want to take full advantage of that

“Yes Princess”

[dk-ghostmachines]

i gotta talk about FourDogs

I really do. 'Cause I posted a lil' passive-aggressive hot take a few days ago, but this is Tumblr not TikTok. Here we can have our 60-second hot takes and eat our long essays too. Kipperlilly Copperkettle was introduced as a rival in episode 3, after which there were a number of posts criticizing The Bad Kids' response to her, labeling it disproportionately mean at best and bullying at worst. I think that's an unfair reading of that interaction and I'm gonna talk about why.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that it's parasocial as fuck over here and The Bad Kids are my personal best friends actually, so where necessary I'll do my best to separate the ((loyalist ride-or-die-bad-boys-for-lyfe emotional reactions)) from the actual points I'm trying to make.

((That being said, the fuck was FourDogs talking about? Y'know? Like what was she on about, for real?))

Here's what's true: over the course of their time at Aguefort, three adults directly related to The Bad Kids - Jawbone, Gorthalax, and Gilear - have been instated as faculty or staff. And if I'm a third-party, especially another student, then for sure. It's giving nepotism, it's giving cronyism, and I'm drinking my Haterade about it every morning. But favoritism is about treatment. It's about actions, rewards, benefits - and ma'am, if you're gonna levy a charge like that, I'm afraid you're gonna need receipts!

What actual benefits have The Bad Kids received from the school that is not available to other students? In freshman and sophomore year, The Bad Kids get detention like anybody else, they don't make it on the Bloodrush team, Gorgug in particular was always not doing great in Barbarian class, they take their midterms, they have to complete the big 60%-of-the-grade spring break project, etc. And now this year, Fig is getting punished for not going to class, Kristen is getting consequences specific to being a kid with ADHD who doesn't live at home anymore, Gorgug's still getting the literal opposite of favoritism from Porter, and Riz, Adaine, and Fabian are all getting the treatment from professors that is proportional for historically successful students in good academic standing.

((And someone else brought this up but, re:that 60%-of-the-grade project, miss ma'am, what were you doing in the Far Haven Woods?? In addition to saving the world again, The Bad Kids endured borderline psychological torture for their final grade, while the Buttcrushers got to step on bugs in the neutral zone??? But they're the privileged ones, no, for sure))

Whether or not saving the world is as big a deal in-universe as it would be in our real world is up for debate. Brennan said it was an outstanding feat in the scope of student adventuring at Aguefort to consistently complete Class B and C quests, but then, when TBK comes back from Hot Yorb Summer everyone acts like they went on a class trip to Six Flags. Either way, unearned success is the wiiiiiildest claim to lay at the feet of consistent world-savers.

Freshmen year it was the Helioic Fundamentalist Apocalypse and the Emperor of the Red Wastes. Sophomore year it was the Nightmare King and the Night Yorb. They've saved the whole school, they've saved specific students at the school. They My Little Pony-ed Ragh, one of the biggest actual bullies Aguefort had, and then Fabian killed toxic masculinity! Even if the favoritism was in the room with us, would it not be the natural result of all this hero shit??? Aguefort hasn't done The Bad Kids any favors he wouldn't do for the rest of the student body, but even if he had I'd get it because KRISTEN APPLEBEES SNUCK HIM INTO HEAVEN AND THEN BROUGHT HIS ASS BACK TO LIFE.

Again, maybe not remarkable in a world where Revivify is just a thing you can learn, but y'know! Shit!! Diamonds aren't free!!

Also FourDogs' whole tone of disdain for the "eccentricity" of Arthur Aguefort's administrative decisions truly boggles the mind, because we found out in freshmen year that he has some kind of mass Power Word over the government of Solace that allows the students of his school to do crimes, AND in sophomore year he has that auto-call-ex-machina that students can evoke when they're in danger overseas. His "eccentricity" is the reason the school can function at all, put some respect on man's name.

Now, let's get word-perfect.

That's the American Psychological Association.

And that's StopBullying.gov, which is managed by the Department of Health and Human Services.

Here's what's true. At moment 00:00 of their relationship, Kristen said something pretty freakin' mean to Kipperlilly for an audience of her friends with like, no provocation.

Kipperlily then revealed that she has based her entire campaign around addressing the perceived privilege that "some students" have under Arthur Aguefort's rules. And THEN, Jawbone revealed that Kipperlilly had been snooping around asking questions about Kristen's relationships with her god and trying to get general dirt on The Bad Kids. BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE, in the preview for episode 6, we get Murph's line of "Kipperlilly's team is trying to get us kicked out of school".

Does that excuse the thing Kristen said ((yes it was hilarious)), no. Not at all. She didn't know that stuff, Kipperlilly just failed a vibe check. In the moment though, that's all it was. The Bad Kids met someone they didn't like and perceived as a threat, and Kipperlilly had something mean said to her by people she already didn't like and already wants to see brought down. While she was not threatening them in that moment, Kipperlilly is a threat. She's not a victim, she is an equal with opposing goals. And now that Ruben has the song of the summer, The Buttcrushers are probably just as popular as The Bad Kids. There is no greater imbalance, they're just adversaries.

Ultimately, Kipperlilly's got them fucked up. But she's a kid. Kids are allowed to get shit fucked up and misdirect their anger at systemic unfairness. TBK are also kids and well within their rights to feel what they felt when Four Dogs walked up with self-righteous vibes and started yappin about academic privilege in what is already the most academically stressful year of their lives.

As the audience, we not only know all the shit TBK has gone through that Kipperlilly does not, we also are aware of how Brennan is introducing her in the story. As soon as he brings her into the scene, you know what's up. The voice he gives her, the tone, the actual things he's saying - if you watch everyone's face after the line about favoritism gets dropped it's the culmination of the whole interaction. Oh, she's our enemy, like our specific enemy and her team is coming for us, specifically.

So what do we gain from ignoring all that? From ignoring the JUICE of this rivalry and flattening it into "the bad kids were mean :/". I actually love Kipperlilly, the rivalry is giving and I love feeling big emotions and getting to use angry, feral, fandom language. FourDogs, can't wait to see you next week, and I can't wait to read the 40k word, FourDogsxKristen, enemies-to-lovers fics. And y'know, shout out to all the people who kin her because she found the rogue teacher, it's pretty goated, I won't lie.

But also. Bad Kids Supremacy. Buttcrushers, stay mad.

[kaitaiga]

COD MW OC: Damien Whitlock Profile & Reference Sheet

》 Open File

GENERAL INFO

Full Name: Damien Whitlock

Nickname: Damo

Birthday: 7th March 1996 – Sydney, Australia

Face Claim: Zane Phillips

Affiliation: 2nd Commando Regiment (2CDO REGT), Tactical Assault Group East (TAG-E), Task Force Dagger 🗡️

Rank: Sergeant

Call sign: Bravo 2-6 (2CDO)

Height: 186cm (6’1)

Weight: 90kg

Blood Type: B- (B NEG)

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Pronouns: He/Him

Languages: English, Arabic (conversational), Indonesian (conversational)

Family:

Father: Arthur Whitlock

Mother: Audrey Mae Whitlock

Older Brother: Thomas Whitlock

Older Sister: Sienna Whitlock

Younger Sister: Zoe Whitlock

Affiliates:

Task Force Dagger

→ Captain Lachlan Jones (2CDO)

→ Sergeant Daniel Greenhill (2CDO Combat Medic)

→ Flight Lieutenant Archie “Frost” Campbell (RAAF F-35A Pilot)

→ Sergeant Joseph ��Joey” Hernández (RAAF Combat Controller)

Task Force 141

→ Sergeant Major Hannah “Sparrow” Cayton (@revnah1406)

→ Sergeant Annabelle “Kit” Pham (@applbottmjeens)

→ Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin @sleepyconfusedpotato

→ Captain Price, Gaz, Laswell, Soap, Ghost

Los Vaqueros

→ Alyssa “Aly” Martinez (@alypink)

Para SF

→ Captain Arjun Dhingra, LT. Aditya Tripathi (@welldonekhushi)

Warrior Task Force (@islandtarochips)

→ Tiala "Shark" Toa

→ Agnes "Blast" Falagi

→ Nigel “Squirrel” Harrison

Urzikstan Liberation Force (ULF)

→ Farah Karim

→ Alex Keller

Other

→ Jackson Wyatt (1CDO, Warcom)

→ Benjamin “Otter” Lee (SAS)

Appearance

Hair: blond, short mullet.

Eye Colour: blue/grey

Build: tall, muscular

Scars: Bullet wound (left shoulder)

Beauty Marks: Right jaw, above and below the left eye.

Tattoos:

Personality and Traits

Damien comes across as a very laidback and open guy, very easy to approach and talk to. He is a pretty big jokester, likes to crack a few jokes here and there to make people laugh or lighten the mood.

Though in the heat of battle, he has known to be brutal towards his enemies, sparing no mercy and absolutely no time - getting a job done quickly and efficiently. He isn’t afraid to speak his mind when needed, even if it may be more emotionally driven.

Nevertheless, towards those he likes, he is a very caring and loyal person. Ride or die buddy. It’s pretty damn obvious too, he’ll never stop bugging someone he cares for no matter where they are in the world. He can read their emotions like a book too; he can tell when someone’s feeling down and will try his best to cheer them up.

ESFP-T (MBTI)

Damien is also really good with any sort of trade work which he learned whilst growing up on his family farm. You need an electrician, mechanic, or welder? He’s your guy.

Damien’s also the sort of guy to take care of others but not himself. Truthfully, after he lost Daniel, he found it very hard to cope. Thus, he took on Daniel’s role of looking after others.

Skills/Specialisations

Like any other commando, Damien has undergone a multitude of training, preparing him for anything and everything. Alone or with his squad. A few of these include:

Demolitions and Breaching

CQC/Melee Attacks

Wilderness Survival

Long Range Recon

HALO / HAHO (including water insertion)

Roping (aid climbing)

Hostage Rescue

First Aid

And so on. In his own time, Damien frequently trains in Jiu-Jitsu, earning his purple belt, further enhancing his CQC.

Biography

Coming from a family of farmers, Damien spent most of his childhood living and working out on his family farm in rural New South Wales. Throughout his younger years, he was constantly harassed/bullied by his drug addicted older brother, Thomas. Young Damien was no match for him but luckily enough, his older sister had his back at all times. Thomas would eventually runaway and was never seen again – presumed dead.

As he grew up, Damien attended an all-boys boarding school in Sydney where he met Daniel Greenhill – his best friend for many years to come. He never really excelled at any subjects other than wood/metalwork and P.E., so when it came down to his final ATAR exams he absolutely flunked them. Not wanting to continue studying or returning to farm life, Damien worked the odd job here and there to make ends meet.

Whilst working one of his jobs alongside his buddy, Daniel had dropped that he had met an operator by the name of Jackson Wyatt and suggested that he should meet with him.

After hearing all about Wyatt’s career as a Commando, Damien was sold on the idea; so much so that at the age of 19, he enlisted into the Australian Army after being trained by Wyatt himself much to his parent's disapproval. He served two years as an infantryman within 3RAR before completing the Commando selection course and earning his green beret, where he was placed in Lachlan’s B Company. Turns out he had a real knack for this sort of thing as he continued to undergo a range of further Commando specialist courses after initial Commando training.

 Since then, he’s done multiple tours to Urzikstan, Afghanistan and Iraq where he was introduced to Captain Price (via Lachlan) and Benjamin “Otter” Lee (via Wyatt).

Damien has since then worked alongside Captain Price closely thanks to Lachlan’s close connection to him, particularly in Urzikstan, but isn’t opposed to flying out to lend a hand wherever.

Modern Warfare I

During 2019, Damien is first seen in the UK on a training exercise with the SAS before he is swiftly sent to London’s Piccadilly Circus to assist against AQ’s terrorist attack, alongside Gaz. Afterwards, he joins the SAS Anti-terror wing along with Price and Gaz to clear a house in Camden, full of AQ affiliates in search of any information related to the Piccadilly attack and The Wolf.

Damien returns to Urzikstan alongside 2CDO REGT, where not long after he is called to assist Captain Price, Gaz and the others at the US Embassy, also aiding to save the Ambassador’s Assistant, Stacy. Following this, he follows the rest of the team back to the ambassador’s residence only to find the Wolf had been extracted by AQ forces already. Furthermore, he is seen briefly helping SAS and CIA on the night raid to locate The Wolf at his compound.

2020/2021

After the events of MW19, Damien spent this time on rotation in TAG-E, though was later sent back to Urzikstan on an emergency deployment to help aid in the assassination of an AQ leader. This proved to be a struggle. They were given little to no information and thus were subsequently ambushed, leading to the death of best friend, Daniel Greenhill, who tried to pull an injured Damien out of enemy fire.

After the funeral, Damien spent his time spiralling down. He became depressed, not leaving his Sydney apartment for days at a time and ultimately almost being discharged from his duties. Though thanks to his Captain and two close friends - Lachlan, Sparrow and Aly - they helped him find the means to work towards getting better and soon enough, he was ready enough to go back to his duties.

Modern Warfare II

In 2022, Damien is first seen undercover at Café Gracht alongside Captain Price where they wait for representatives from both AQ and Las Almas Cartel to show up. After seeing Gaz tranquillise the cartel member, they all move to enter Laswell’s vehicle and leave the area swiftly.

Later on he returns to Urzikstan, where he is again enlisted for help by Price to rescue Laswell from AQ along with ULF fighters.

Modern Warfare III

Damien spends this time going home to Australia for a little while before being sent on another tour around the Middle East. It is in Urzikstan that he (and 2CDO REGT) work alongside Phillip Graves and his Shadow Company, unaware of the events in Las Almas concerning Los Vaqueros and TF141. He is only made aware when seeing his friend Sparrow again, where she rips the SC patch off of him and promptly has a go at Damien for wearing that thing around them, explaining the full story.

2024 Onwards

Sometime during 2024, Damien was recruited into Task Force Dagger, a task force created in order to combat and end ‘Project Nightfall’ created by ‘STALKERS’ personnel. To be continued…

Trivia

EDM and rock/metal music is what he listens to most.

He is a Mclaren F1 fan, as well as being a big fan of the AFL team: Collingwood Football Club (Magpies).

Absolute gym junkie. Has an extensive collection of pre-workout, protein powder and creatine stored in his apartment (and snuck onto base). If he wasn’t a Commando, he’d probably be a bodybuilder or athlete of some sort.

Drives a 79 series Landcruiser. His number plate is “WHITLOCK”.

Damien keeps a scrapbook that he fills with stickers, trinkets, thoughts or drawings from various places he has visited.

During his downtime in Sydney, he likes to go café-hopping! He’s a big foodie. Also likes to take long walks during the night, overlooking the Harbour Bridge and generally just taking in the city lights. It's one of his favourite things to do to ease his mind.

In the past, Damien has never had a good relationship - they’ve all either cheated on him or ghosted him. He gave up looking for a partner even though he longed to have a family of his own.

Does jiu-jitsu and is currently at a purple belt.

Thanks to Daniel, Damien is pretty good at speaking Indonesian and really enjoys Indonesian food! His favourites are nasi campur and soda gembira. He’d mix Indonesian and English together to gossip about something to Daniel. After they both graduated high school, Daniel took Damien to visit Jakarta for the first time and he loved it! Also owns a couple batik shirts.

Frequently visits Daniel’s grave when he has the time. He sits there for hours just catching him up on every little event or thought that has happened, as if he were there to listen like the old times. Frequently catches up with Daniel's family too, they've taken him in like he's their son.

Moodboard + Playlist

[t1oui]

tastastastassss please would you share some percy weasley headcanons or thoughts about him in general

(just remembered he and oliver wood were in the same year and thus dorm... and percy gives me Massive twink energy, like a less dramatic francis abernathy)

HI YES i will indeed do this

so yeah in canon percy and oliver shared a dorm but in my mind there is no way percy weasley isn't in slytherin so my percy shares a dorm w marcus flint instead. anyways here are some headcanons

he's very bisexual and yes definitely a twink

he's also tall. probably one of if not the tallest guys in his year

good poker face but this man is a huge simp. for christmas, valentine's day, oliver's birthday, etc. he always panics on what to buy and gets oliver like 40 things including like 8 bouquets of flowers lol

penelope clearwater and marcus flint are his best friends other than oliver !! these four are chaotic. marauders vibes but they don't get caught

definitely a bit of a drama queen, but he hates when people (marcus) point it out b/c he does not see himself that way.

studies too hard for his own good and still has time for quidditch somehow (he's only playing to beat fred and george. he's a chaser btw)

actually very sensitive. like he will be stoic until something inconveniences him and then he will SOB

hates himself a little bit (sometimes a lot) because he's so different from his family

insecure about his freckles

takes younger slytherin students (like draco malfoy) under his wing because he knows what it's like to be part of the house everybody hates

fully despises dumbledore

always the first to notice when something's wrong (quirrell being sus, something being wrong with "moody"/crouch sr, etc) but alwasy the last person adults listen to

has been best friends with ginny since she was a little kid

does more for his siblings than they realize. cares about them so much, and his heart breaks every time they choose to fight with him or tease him instead of seeing how fucked up it is that he was shunned for being different

was almost put in gryffindor/is in gryffindor because he's extremely brave

was put in slytherin/almost put in slytherin because he will do anything for those he cares about, even if it's considered morally wrong

has and will use unforgivables; they're just spells to him, they're not anything scary or different

patronus is a crow

animagius form (i told you he and his friends were like the marauders lol) is a cat

if he notices two people pining for each other he will do everything in his power to make them date because he's quite the romantic. oliver helps.

has trained himself not to blush because he's so pale he just turns into a beet if he blushes at all (his friends, oliver especially, still make him go red occasionally)

cut off contact with arthur and molly for a little while after the war and was only really talking to ginny, occasionally charlie and bill

becomes head of the dmle

starts a petition after the war to get the atrium statue at the ministry - which shows a bunch of non-wizard creatures looking up to wizards like they're the superior beings - taken down. he does not shut up about this project until the statue is replaced, he hates it so much

that's all for now !! but feel free to send me more asks, ty for this one :)