#probably before arthur dies too

[adhd-merlin]

💥 i'm curious

💥What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

Well, if it just one thing...

I think Merlin and Morgana should have had a proper showdown. Because after Morgana discovers Merlin is Emrys, she takes away his magic and... laughs in his face a little before trapping him in a cave? That wasn't very satisfying, in my opinion (yes, I get that Merlin getting sealed in a cave is a reference to Arthurian legend).

I just wish they had written a more extended scene for their final confrontation. We deserved it after all that build-up. Like, it's basic rules of storytelling.

[arthursfuckinghat]

@horseishere Your tags are so well put, never ever apologise for rambling because you're so right

You know, I don't think I'll ever get used to Dutch's constant two-faced behaviour.

One minute you're coming back to camp and then getting an earful from Dutch about not bringing in enough money, then the next minute he'll greet you and say how he missed you and asks what you've been up to as soon as you walk into camp.

On a bad day, you're the person who's going to betray Dutch in the end. Then on a good day, you're his favourite son who's always been special to him.

The camp gives Arthur grief for his 'moods' but the others didn't seem to comment on Dutch's camp behaviour in the same way, even in the early chapters.

[wcters]

𝗜 𝗖𝗔𝗡 𝗦𝗘𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨

paring: carlos sainz x fem!leclerc!reader

summary: you’re the twin of arthur leclerc . . . and you’re dating your other brothers teammate, though he doesn’t know that

request: carlos x leclerc!reader fic pleaseee! reader is arthur's twin and is secretly dating carlos

warnings: establish relationships, family fighting, jokes of assault | for everyone who sent requests, i am slowly making my way through them, i just have a lot going on so be patient 😚 merci

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc, and 80,321 others

yourusername waiting for the weekend

view all 124 comments

leclerc_pascale ma fille intelligente 😘

↳ yourusername merci maman ❤️

user1 she always slays

user2 cute and smart??

arthur_leclerc what’s got you so excited?

↳ yourusername not telling 🤫

user3 cutie ❤️

↳ yourusername miss you 😔😔 we need to do another study date

user4 what university does she go to?

↳ user5 berkeley. it’s in california

f1gossip

liked by user1, user3, and 132,045 others

f1gossip carlos sainz seen in california over the summer break. any idea who he’s seeing?

view all 132 comments

user1 doesn’t he have friends in cali?

↳ user2 i think so

user3 he looks good ❤️

user4 he’s probably just visiting because he can

↳ user5 i would too if i had a jet at my disposal

user6 do you know where in caifornia?

user7 this is actually so random 🤨

user8 he looks so lost all the time 😭😭😭

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc, and 102,995 others

yourusername weekend you ❤️

view all 145 comments

arthur_leclerc is that a man

arthur_leclerc who is that?

arthur_leclerc y/n

user1 arthur really panicking at the moment

↳ arthur_leclerc yes.

user2 you look so comfy in the second photo

↳ yourusername i was 😌

leclerc_pascale dis-lui que je lui dis bonjour 👋

↳ yourusername fera 🫡

↳ arthur_leclerc maman?

user3 . . . who’s that man?

yourfriend text me asap !!!!!!

poopy 👺

poopy 👺

who was that man

i have no idea what you’re talking about

poopy 👺

yes you do

in your post on instagram

there was a man

it could be one of my girlfriends who’s masculine???

poopy 👺

😐😐😐

no it can’t

none of your friends look like that

how do you know that 🤨🤨

poopy 👺

that’s besides the point

why are you hiding this from me? i’m your twin brother

exactly.

charles, lorenzo, and you (especially) scare everyone off

poopy 👺

no we don’t

what about ryan? or jack?

poopy 👺

they weren’t good enough for you

they never are!

maman liked them and i did too and you made them leave

poopy 👺

does maman know about this one?

yes. now leave me alone arthur, i’m happy for once

i’m not letting you guys ruin this

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 676,414 others

carlossainz55 quick recharge before heading back for some more racing!

view all 327 comments

user1 why did he in cali the time i’m not there 😭😭

user2 boyfriend material

charles_leclerc ready for another week!

user3 is that a woman???

user4 that is not a man’s hand in that last photo ‼️

user5 wasn’t expecting to see a soft launch today

user6 that last pic is so random but okay

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2, and 141,034 others

f1gossip carlos sainz seen in berkeley, california with a mysterious girl. sources say the pair would very close and cuddled up with the other. any ideas on who the girl is?

view all 157 comments

user1 girl what

user2 really pulling out those dance moves 🕺🕺🕺

user3 that kind of looks like y/n leclerc…

user4 why is it so hot that he’s lifting her up like she’s a feather

user5 this is actually so random

user6 when did this start?

user7 doesn’t y/n leclerc go to berkeley university?

yourusername

liked by arthur_leclerc, charles_leclerc, and 202,537 others

yourusername last photo is us waiting for arthur

view all 176 comments

arthur_leclerc i was not late you guys were too early

↳ yourusername 🤨🤨🤨

↳ charles_leclerc sure…

user1 where are y’all going now

↳ user2 probably the dutch grand prix? where else

user3 is arthur just chronically late?

↳ yourusername yes 😔

↳ charles_leclerc yes

↳ arthur_leclerc lies. all lies

user4 he really be kicking his feet

f1gossip

liked by user1, user4, and 123,084 others

f1gossip carlos sainz seen with the same girl he’d been with in california after the dutch grand prix. the couple was reported to be kissing and holding hands while out.

view all 137 comments

user1 who is she???

user2 they’re very touchy

user3 he looks like he doesn’t know what’s happening

↳ user4 he always looks like that babe

user5 you have to admit they’re cute

arthur_leclerc

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 351,180 others

arthur_leclerc it’s my twin sisters birthday! lucky to have you as a sister. happy birthday ❤️

view all 221 comments

yourusername i feel exposed and vulnerable

user1 stunnin since birth

↳ yourusername you know it 💅

yourusername thanks ig 🙄🙄

user2 THE GOGGLES

user3 gorgeous babes

charles_leclerc happy birthday little sis ❤️

↳ yourusername i’m still not forgiving you for the 3rd photo

user4 her and arthur were so cute as little kids ☺️☺️

↳ yourusername still are babe

↳ arthur_leclerc what do you mean were???

user5 iconic

leclerc_pascale joyeux anniversaire ma belle fille ❤️

↳ yourusername je t'aime maman ❤️😘

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, and 907,508 others

carlossainz55 feliz cumpleaños a mi bebé ❤️

happy birthday to my baby ❤️

view all 401 comments

yourusername merci my love ❤️

arthur_leclerc It was YOU?!?!

user1 i’m actually shocked

user2 was not expecting this

user3 my jaw is on the floor

charles_leclerc we have to talk

user4 the leclerc brothers are planning an assult

[potato-lord-but-not]

FAROEVERSE DOODLES I can only think about her for 5 minutes at a time before I become unwell and need to lie down

(also in this au Arthur dies during the book incident instead of Parker (who probably wasn’t present), she’d been going thru his office trying to find a way to be helpful bc her father never tells her things and keeps his job from her and she found some things she probably shouldn’t have, Arthur caught her a bit too late)

((AND Jane is literally the exact same as John except her gender got transed in the opposite direction))

[moonshapedbox]

modern!au truck driver arthur headcanons

fluff, elements of arthur morgan x fem reader, very brief suggestiveness

a/n: AHHH i'm nervous ok i’ve written fics and drabbles & stuff before but i have never posted them…so this is my first time posting. big shout out to @rdr2enjoyer for her scrumptious modern au fic that started this idea in first place !!!! and to @cassievanlauritzen for even more ideas and inspiration, i’ve written this with her in mind <3 haven't written in so long so it feels like warming up. pouring my all of trucker knowledge into this + did tons of research just in case. sorry in advance if it's not super accurate or accidentally out of character. enjoy!

- he’d be a snack lover. when he stops at gas stations fuel up he stocks up on a ton of snacks, chips, candy, jerky, you name it. also drinks lots of coffee, sodas, really anything to keep him energized.

- additionally I feel like he’d be big on Buc-ee's. loves how clean the bathrooms are, he’d go in get washed up a bit (wash his face and forearms, combs his hair, etc). then he’d get a huge bbq brisket sandwich and a dr. pepper and eat it in his cab. probably has a small Buc-ee’s cup or thermos.

- on the same note abt eating habits-- would hands down eat while he's driving. type of guy to dip in his fries in a milkshake and devour it, his unwavering attention still on the road.

- would definitely have one of those hanging rear view mirror ornaments of a like deer or a horse.

- collects little trinkets from all the states he’s been to (keychains, shot glasses etc.) would buy you a small plushie and surprises you with it when he gets home.

- the type to call you on late nights and puts you on speaker phone when he’s tired. makes you to talk to him to keep him up until he can get to his next rest stop, “darlin’ you gotta keep me up for a lil while longer…tell me ‘bout ur day”

- the only phone he's got is a flip phone. he runs out of minutes a lot and he can’t get service most the time bc of rural areas he’s traveling thru, so he calls from a pay phone. he leans against the pay phone and pulls a drag from his cigarette while he listens you on the phone, “i’m okay hon, cellphone died again i’m sorry” he flicks the ash and waits for your response, “...what’s wrong baby?…. you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout me i’m fine. i can take care of myself don’t worry….”

- if there’s not a payphone available he’ll stop by a diner and use the landline, fidgeting with the cord while he talks to you, he hums and sighs to himself listening to you talk, “mhm, I know baby I miss you too…just wanted to hear that sweet voice of yours…been thinkin’ ‘bout you a lot…” he smiles to himself and looks down at his boots. “don’t cry sweet girl i’ll be home soon…in a couple days, ok?”

- when he finally does get home he’s handsy. he’s grabbing you every chance he can, he holds you in his big arms and pulls you close, snuggling into your neck and shoulders. “you have no idea how lonely it gets out how there sweetheart...” he pants into your neck, pressing warm open mouthed kisses on the underside of your jaw. “if only i could take you with me, you’d look so pretty sittin' in my passenger seat”

- he's a patient guy so he's not the type to road rage but i think he’d be a vocal complainer with the stupid ppl on the road. he's out on the road for so long that he can't help that his patience runs out sometimes. will throw up his hand in annoyance when ppl cut him off. he rests his temple against his hands in irritation, leans up to the wheel to get a better view “what the hell are we doin’...you gettin' over or not?” he grumbles to himself, “use you’re damn signal!”

- but it's quiet in the cab for the most part, it's just him and the soft hum of the road-- aside from answering the calls on the CB radio frequently.

- although it’s lonely out on the road, he gets homesick and he thinks about you a lot. the nights are even longer and more painful. some nights he doesn't mind the quiet but other nights it makes his soul ache a bit.

- the song “wichita lineman” by glen campbell….yeah it’s like that

- when he sleeps in his cab he’ll look out at the stars, it's really his only moment of the day he can truly zone out for a moment. he never gets tired of looking up at them. sometimes he'll allow himself one smoke before bed, he'll stand outside at night and breathe the fresh air, looking up at the night sky.

- similarly he loves all the scenery. one of the best parts of driving to him is traveling around, seeing how the sun sets and rises differently in every part of the country--but still equally as beautiful. it makes his heart soften, but he'd never tell anyone that

- always keeps his journal with him, writes down things that interest him. places he's been, people he's met, and so on.

- he’s always changing radio stations when it fades into static as he crosses county lines, has lots of CDs or cassettes just in case the radio doesn’t have anything good on or he can’t get rid of the static

- as for the CDs and cassettes— definitely classic rock guy and like old country/folk music (you know johnny cash, willie nelson, john denver type of stuff). is a sucker for ballads bc they express emotions he feels yet can’t explain in his own words :’)

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

if there's anything u think i should add let me know and i might make a part 2 !!! thank u sm for reading :)

[bitin-and-barkin]

Come Back To Me

Currently imagining Arthur Morgans reaction to seeing you again after you supposedly died.

Warnings: Angst, mentions/descriptions of blood/injuries + torture, eventual fluff, no smut (yet), Arthur Morgan x reader, gender neutral reader, religious talk, probably out of character, but he just really loves you okay, so he gets emotional

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT + PT 2 HERE, PT 3 HERE

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

Let's say when Dutch was going to meet up with Colm, you offered yourself to act as backup instead, not wanting to make Arthur work any harder than he had.

Infact, seeing how exhausted your husband was, you were about to tear Dutch a new one for trying to make him work even more.

But they needed a sniper. And sure, you were tired. You had just gotten back from another solo job, where you scored a pretty penny for the gang. But you knew Arthur deserved a break. And so you said you'd help instead.

But while waiting on that mountain top for Colm to try something, you got distracted. You were tired, and you got sloppy. You weren't expecting his men to come for you. They snuck up behind you and wrangled you to the ground, with it taking four, maybe five men to keep you pinned down before they finally knocked you out.

When Dutch returned without you, Arthur knew something was wrong. Dutch claimed that you were probably out just doing another job, running off like you always did. Your horse was even gone from where you hitched it. And foolishly, Arthur believed him.

Now, it had been 5, maybe, 6 months after your disappearance. One month in Dutch stopped sending out search parties after they found your hat bloodied in an abandoned house, along with your ring finger.

They knew it was your ring finger, as it still had the wedding band Arthur bought for you on it.

Charles and Javier searched the area for any trails, but all of them were ruined past the point of tracking.

They arrived back to camp, bearing the bad news, that no trail could be found. Dutch pronounced you dead and had a honorary funeral. Swearing they would all eventually get revenge on Colm for this.

Revenge hadn't come.

It became even more of a common sight to see Arthur come back to camp covered in blood that wasn't his. He obsessively picked off O'Driscolls, killing and torturing every camp he found. Questioning every single one; Where were you? Where was Colm? What had Colm done to you? Were you even still alive?

Screaming that if he ever found Colm, he would rip him apart. Telling Dutch he should've killed him when he had the chance.

The image of your severed finger was engraved into his mind. They hadn't even sold the ring. They left it on just to rub it in his face.

He almost collapsed to the floor when he first saw it. He felt like he was dying. Who knew emotional pain could be so physical?

Even after the camp had sat him down and told him you were probably dead, and that he needed to accept that, he had never stopped searching. In fact, he punched Dutch in the face after he told him that.

He drew away from the gang, isolating himself. Dutch, Tilly, Hosea, Marybeth, Charles. Nobody could get through to him. He shut them all out, trying to act like everything was fine.

But nothing was fine. He knew that. He hated the world for moving on without you.

Every night he was drinking himself into a stupor, it was the only thing that let him sleep. He stopped talking or eating much, he was obviously losing weight. Always working, bringing in cash but never staying for too long.

He stopped sleeping at camp. He stopped sleeping much in general. He had nightmares whenever he did.

Your tent reminded him of you. Whenever he did sleep, it was always in your tent. It made him feel less alone.

Nobody ever took it over or moved your things because they all knew Arthur would gut whoever did.

He always thought of you, and whenever he did, he couldn't help but blame himself.

Why did he let you take his place? Why hadn't he searched for you the second Dutch came home without you? He couldn't do anything right. The same thing that happened to Eliza and Issac had happened to you. And all he did was sit around like a fool and let it happen.

How many days, weeks, had they tortured you before you died? Months, even? God, did they even wait for you to die before they took your finger off? Could you still be alive? You've always been a fighter, he knows that. If anybody was to survive being at Colm's mercy, it would be you. Could you still be waiting? In some basement, some hole in the ground, some old shack for Arthur? For the gang? For anybody to come save you? He knew what type of man Colm was. He knows Colm would do worse just to spite Dutch.

Was this punishment? For everything he had done? Was this hell? He wasn't religious, but every night where he went to bed without your presence next to his, it sure felt like it.

He was losing Dutch to his insanity. He was losing his way of life to the passing time.

And now he had lost you.

You.

God,

Why did it have to be you?

Why couldn't it have been him? Why did it have to be you? Why couldn't he have at least died with you? He would spend an eternity in hell if he could spend his eternity with you.

But what could he do about it?

What was he doing about it?

Riding into Valentine to drink himself half dead. Alone. Riding into an endless nightmare alone without you.

As he was hitching his horse outside the saloon, he saw your distinct mare hitched right next to his.

For a moment he was happy. Happy for the first time in a long time. As this was proof that maybe, just maybe you were alive. And then, he realized what had actually happened.

Some bastard after killing you had taken your horse. Like some sort of trophy.

He stomped inside the saloon. He bought that horse for you. Saw it at Strawberry while going to free Micah and just knew that you had to have it after your last one died in Blackwater.

The girl was so sweet, and obedient too. He had hunted down a panther in Lemoyne and sold it to the trapper to make a saddle for you. He made sure to fill up the saddle bags with everything you'd need to care for it, along with a couple of other gifts for you sprinkled in. When he shyly brought the whole ensemble to you, you jumped into his arms like you two were young again.

And now some selfish bastard was making a mockery of it.

He walked up to the Bartender and slammed his hands on the bar, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt. Demanding to know who rode in with that horse.

The bartender nervously said they had rented a room. Were still upstairs as they spoke. He walked upstairs, unholstering his knife.

He was gonna make this slow.

Treading carefully towards the bedroom, turning the handle. It was locked. He backed up and kicked the door open, pointing his gun at whoever was inside, ready to shoot them in the leg if they tried to escape. No way was he gonna give them an easy death with a headshot.

And then?

He saw you.

Standing near the bed, bruises and cuts, scars new and old littering your body. Wrapped in bandages soaked in blood. Leaning against a bedpost, barely able to stand, pointing a shaky gun at the intruder.

Time stood still as your eyes met.

He dropped his gun. You lowered yours.

He whispered your name, almost like a prayer. Praying this was real.

You said his back.

Then, he ran towards you. Wrapping you in a hug, holding onto you for dear life.

Praying that if this was a dream, he would never have to wake up.

Running his fingers through your hair, gripping onto your shirt, he felt your chest heave. Your tears falling onto his shoulder, wetting his jacket.

You were crying- no, you were apologizing.

To him.

For worrying him.

And then he started crying too.

Crying into the crook of your neck like a little boy.

Arthur never really cried. He hadn't cried in so long. After your death, he never let himself cry. He felt like he didn't deserve it.

But you?

You were alive.

Your hands wrapped around his back, the distinct pressure of your ring finger missing.

Feeling your missing ring burn a hole through his pocket. Remembering the sight of your severed finger.

And the hell you must've gone through to stay alive.

He felt sick, as he sobbed into your shoulder.

What kind of man was he? Needing you to comfort him after you were tortured?

He dropped to the floor, his knees couldn't hold him anymore. Still holding onto your body, now just your legs, for dear christ. Like you might fade away if he let go. He wouldn't let you go.

He missed you more than anything.

You slowly bent down, running your fingers through his hair.

He began wondering if you were real. Was this real?

You got down to his level, sitting on your knees. Kissing him on the forehead and putting your hand on the back of his head. Pushing him into your chest, as he only sobbed louder, blubbering and crying like a fool.

About how he thought he lost you. How the whole gang thought you had died. How he never stopped looking for you. How he thought he was dying after you didn't show up back home. How he never stopped wearing his wedding ring. How he always kept yours in his pocket. How he cradled a photo of you the first time he slept after you died.

How he wanted to bleed the world for killing you.

How he wanted to shoot everything to ashes.

How he missed you every waking moment.

How he dreamed of you every night.

How he would've given anything just to hold you one more time.

Crying into your arms,

Begging you not to leave him.

You rubbed circles onto the back of his head as you comforted him. Whispering that they only tortured you, that you eventually managed to get out, that you were fine. That you're alive. That you're here with him. That you're here for him. That you weren't going anywhere.

The months that he thought you were dead melted away as he felt your fingers run through his hair,

As you promised you weren't leaving him.

You're alive.

You're with him.

You're here.

And he swore to fucking God,

He was never letting you go again.

|

|

|

|

|

Okay, so should I do a smutty pt2 where he REALLY shows you how much he missed you, or should I do one who he goes fucking yandere esque from the prospect of almost losing you?? Or should I do both??

[imnosuvu]

bounded by business (2)

part one here!

peaky blinders x fem!reader, thomas shelby x fem!reader

type: fluff/angst(?)/smut(ish)

summary: a second class powerful gang in the south of london reaches out too a strong working class gang in the south east of birmingham for a union. Whilst the wedding takes place, unwanted guests break in, causing the newly wedded couple to panic.

timeline: preferably at the start of season 2, maybe even before, but after grace’s betrayal. (Arthur is not married to Linda yet.)

warnings: swearing, gang talk, arranged marriage, weapons, kissing, toxic uncle(?), mention of cheating bf, violence, mentions of blood, reader getting sh, mentions of slight sexual interaction, smoking, drinking, brief mentions of guests getting high,

note: guys i apologise if the wedding isn’t correctly done as i am brown, and i don’t often go to weddings outside my culture, however, i have tried my hardest by following how weddings within the show went including some research. i highly apologise! thank you💗

masterlist.

requests are open❗️

Three days have passed since the meeting with the Peaky Blinders. It’s rather late and you’re at one of the posh pubs your family owns, drinking away the sorrows for the next day. Tomorrow’s the day you’re dreading. Oh how you’d rather get thrown in the cut than marrying some man that threatens to cut people with razor blades - a man you barely know.

“It’ll be alright,” you hear your best friend say, placing her drink down, snapping you out of your little daydream, offering comfort by giving you a little side hug. “He’s probably not as scary as you think.”

“(best friend’s name), He’s feared by the whole of Birmingham.” you speak in an obvious tone, turning your head to face her, raising your brows.

She, smiles, clearly amused. Whilst pressing her lips against the glass of wine, she teases, “Looks like you’ve done your research on your soon-to-be-husband.”

That earned her a wack on her waist.

“Ow!”

“Shush.” you remark, smirking lightly, watching her playfully glare at you from the corner of your eye, whilst sipping on your wine.

“I am NOT doing this!” you yell out, pushing away from your uncle and mother who are practically dragging you into the church.

“y/n you’re marrying him whether you like it or not!” your uncle growls out harshly, anger fueling his eyes, grabbing onto your arm again, harder than before.

“Mum!” you whine out, moving your pissed gaze from your uncle towards your mother.

“y/n, darling, just do this for your dad, you know how bad he wanted you to get married.” she calmly and sympathetically answers with, unlike what your uncle is doing. Your father died in the war, by an unexpected bombing attack from the German troops.

Trying to resist your uncle’s harsh grip, who’s attempting to get you into the church without messing your gorgeous white gown, flawless makeup and hair, you snap a light remark towards your mum, “I’m sure he would have actually wanted me to marry someone I love, not some wannabe gangster who waves his razor around.”

“Well that ‘wannabe gangster who waves his razor around’ provides you protection.” your uncle interrupts your mum from speaking, mocking your words, raising his voice towards you, “My brother- your father, would rather have wanted a man who’d protect you till his last breath than a guy who cheats on his girlfriend with a whore!”

You want to say something back, but the mention of Andrew stung, you thought you’ve drank the pain away, but of course, it’s still there.

“Now you’re going to fucking go into that church and marry him.” he yells in fury, pushing you towards the church harshly, each word being spat with anger, there’d be no surprise if the people inside the church heard, “I don’t want you causing any of your fucking scenes in there, you understand? No fights, no arguments, i don’t want any of that shit!”

When he hears no response, he snaps, scaring you,

“Do you understand?!”

Your mum shoots you a warning look, both of you knowing that if you don’t respond, he’d drag you in by your hair that has been curled gracefully by your older sister.

“I understand.” you softly mutter through gritted teeth.

“Now get in.” he pulls your arm, dragging you towards the church, your mother following behind.

“Tommy there’s still time y’know,” John mutters to his older brother, who’s stood at the alter, “You barely even know the woman! Who knows, she could probably one of those fuckin’ pointless activists?”

“John, listen to me, yeah? We might not know what she’s like, but are we going to drop a really fucking good deal over some woman, aye?” Thomas raises his brows at his younger brother.

“But Tommy-” John starts, however getting stopped when he notices you beginning to walk down the aisle. The younger Shelby sighs, cursing under his breathe, moving himself away from Thomas and towards Esme.

As the ceremony begins, everyone hushes down, watching you and your uncle, who’s masked his irritation, walking down the aisle, your veil coving your face, disguising your fury which you’re trying to stop from releasing, for the sake of the wedding. You keep your eyes low, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Now stood infront of the Altar, your uncle passes you to the feared brummie gangster you’re forced to marry, you feel his thick, calloused hands taking your slimmer soft ones carefully, as if you’re glass that can be easily shattered. Those same hands now lift your veil up, revealing your neatly done makeup which is applied onto your soft, pretty, gorgeous face. His piercing blue eyes study you, yet keeping a stern expression, making you feel interrogated. Your gaze can’t help but lightly examine Thomas in return, noticing the way his expensive suit decorates his muscular build.

Breaking away from your gaze, both you and Thomas now turn, facing Jeremiah Jesus - a close friend of the Shelby’s.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join together in holy matrimony, Thomas Michael Shelby and (reader’s full name).” Jeremiah speaks aloud, “Thomas Micheal Shelby and (reader’s full name), have you come here to enter into a marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?”

“I have.” Tommy replies, beside you, in his usual raspy tone. Jeremiah’s eyes now land on you, as you haven’t said your confirmation.

“I have.” you mutter carelessly, looking away.

Jeremiah then lightly nods, “Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and to honor eachother for as long as you both shall live?”

“I am.” you both now say, you now wanting to get this shit over with.

“Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church.” Jeremiah continues, watching how both you and Tommy hold hands.

“I, Thomas Micheal Shelby, take you, (reader’s full name), to be my wife. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. To love you and to honor you all the days of my life.” Tommy states his vows, repeating after Jeremiah, in a stern, cold tone, with his usual brummie accent, staring down at you, his piercing blue eyes glued onto you.

“I, (reader’s full name), take you, Thomas Micheal Shelby, to be my husband. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. To love you and to honor you all the days of my life.” the vows come out your mouth, unwillingly, not wanting to have come out of your plump lips. You return his stern look he gives you.

Jeremiah then continues on with his speech, finishing off with 'Amen'. He then sprinkles the wedding rings, that bound you with Thomas, with holy water, handing one to you and to Thomas.

“(reader’s full name), receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father and the Son, and the holy spirit.” the feared Birmingham gangster announces the vows Jeremiah indicates him to say, as he places the wedding band onto your left, ring finger, sliding it on.

“Thomas Micheal Shelby, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father and the Son, and the holy spirit.” you repeat the words, failing to hide your light annoyance as you place the wedding band onto Thomas’ left, ring finger.

“Now let us humbly invoke God's blessing upon this bride and groom, that in his kindness he may favor with his help those on whom he has bestowed the Sacrament of Matrimony.” Jeremiah states to everyone within the church, “In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife. The husband may now kiss the bride!”

As Jeremiah speaks the last sentence, your now husband, carefully cups your face, bringing his face closer towards yours, pressing a kiss onto your lips, instantly melting into it, you hesitantly place your hands onto the nape of his neck, closing your eyes, the kiss now turning quite intimate. Cheers erupt.

“Alright, calm down you both, no need to eat eachother up, you’ve got a whole house to do that shit in!” a deep, joy fall teasing voice erupts behind Thomas, snapping you both out of eachother’s mouths, seeing the owner of the voice, Arthur, smirk. You pull away from him, your brownish pink shaded lipstick now lightly smudged onto his lips, looking away, moving your gaze around, seeing your uncle nod lightly - in approval - his stern facade still remaining. As you look around, your eyes then land on a couple of Spanish lads, rivals of yours,

they surely weren’t on the wedding list.

“Right everyone, let’s get the fuckin’ family photo done!” Arthur yells aloud, snapping you out of your train of thoughts, making everyone get outside the church, where the wedding photo is meant to be taken.

As both yours and Thomas’ family gather around you both, infront of the camera, Arthur bellows for space to be made, guiding the less important guests away from the camera. You then look towards the field on your right, the same group of unknown Spanish men huddled together, seemingly discussing something suspiciously. Unexpectedly, you get pushed, loosing your balance on your heels, you fall into your husband. He quickly reacts by grabbing your waist, letting the cigar be held with his lips, holding you upright as you regain balance.

“Alright?” you hear him ask you, through the cigar, softly, yet his Birmingham accent present, looking down at you.

“Yeah, thanks...” you mutter, your light London accent contrasting his, as you straighten yourself, avoiding to look at him, still stubbornly furious at this wedding.

The rest of both families now finally find places to stand for the photograph. As the photographer announces the photo will be taken, Thomas snakes his arm around your waist, catching you off guard as he pulls you closer to him, your arm unconsciously resting onto his back, hand placed onto your shoulder. The Spanish men depart, moving away from others, you notice and can’t help but feel a hint of panic growing within you, you weren’t aware of their presence being made at the wedding.

As the photographer states that the photo has been taken, both families now disperse, mingling with each other. You notice how John and your younger brother getting along, having a laugh with one another. Yet your mind is still on those group of lads.

Family and friends now gather around you - same with your husband, you feel arms wrap around you in a friendly hug, you then notice it's your best friend, your chosen bridesmaid.

“I told you it'll be alright.” she mutters into your ear.

Unable to hide your light smile, you step back, letting go of her. “Don't get too full of yourself.” you mutter back, teasingly. She now moves to the side, as your mother embrace you. “Your father would be proud.” your mum states, cupping your face, smiling lightly.

You smile very lightly, placing your hands upon your mothers. “For dad.” you mutter.

Time passes, family and friends congratulate the newly weds. Finally, your uncle approaches, patting Thomas on the back, congratulating him and the rest of the Shelby family, the rest of your family following along on bidding their now in-laws a congrats, the Spanish not to be seen.

After a while, the party makes their way to the Arrow House for the reception. Thomas makes his way towards you, placing his hand on the low of your back, guiding you towards the chariot.

“Let's take you to your new home, aye?” he says as he helps you up into the chariot.

“I can get on it myself.” you snap lightly towards him, refusing his help, causing his corner of his lip to curl upwards into a very tiny smirk.

The ride to the Arrow House was silent. As the chariot approaches your new home, you can't help but notice how gorgeous the victorian house is. You look up mesmerised by the beauty. Thomas notices but doesn't say anything, instead he gets off the carriage and puts his hands out to help you down, which at first you refused to take, until you realised your wedding dress weighs you down, giving you a high chance to face plant the floor. Stepping into the house, you look around, captivated by its stunning decor, looking at the paintings with decorate the walls. The wedding party follows behind, cheering and laughing with one another.

“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Shelby.” you hear an older woman say, you turn your head to where the voice was coming from, realising it was a maid.

“Is everything set, Frances?” he mutters, exhaling smoke.

“Yes, Mr. Shelby.” she replies.

Everyone settles in, music erupts in the hall, couples singing and dancing, getting drunk and high. You observe around the room, figuring out where the Spanish lads have wondered off too.

A woman, seeming a couple of years younger smiles at you, “Welcome to the Family.” she passes you a glass of irish whiskey. “I'm Ada, Ada Thorne, Tommy's younger sister.”

You gladly take the whiskey offered to you, taking a long needed sip, “Thanks, Ada, i'm y/n I/n-”

“Shelby.” Ada corrects, a light smirk plastered on her face as she sips on her own glass of whiskey.

“Oh don’t worry, darling, you’ll be hearing ‘Mrs.Shelby’ all the time, it’ll stick.” an older woman speaks, smirking at you, standing next to Ada, sipping on her champagne.

Ada then speaks up, gesturing over to the woman beside her who looks you up and down, “This is Aunt Polly.”

“If Tommy ever lays a finger on you, or even says or does something horrible, you come straight to me.” Aunt Polly added in a strong womanly tone, “I’ll sort the man out.”

You and Ada let out a light chuckle.

“Pol, you’re making him seem like he’s fucking crazy!” Ada states.

As you’re in a commotion with the two shelby’s, drifting the worry caused by the Spanish off your mind, giggling whilst drinking, your older sister and your 5 year old niece, walks over to you. Your niece then smiles up at you, embracing you, you lift her up, and let her nuzzle into you. Your sister leans over and whispers in slight worry into your ear. “y/n, I don’t know where (uncle’s name) is, (younger brother’s name), (older sister’s husband’s name) and (male cousin) is looking for him, Mum’s just told me there’s unwanted guests here, I think it’s the Spanish.”

As she speaks your smile falters, the two Shelby’s notice the change of your dementor and how panicked your older sister seemed. “Is everything alright, loves?” polly asks, her happiness now being replaced with concern.

“I- yeah…” you mutter out, staring at your sister in disbelief, you then look around the hall, downing the rest of the whiskey and putting the glass down, “I saw a couple of them…”

“And you didn’t think of telling us?” your older sister says, in a more lecturing tone, backing up, so she can see your face.

“I-” you try to reason, but judging on the look on her face, you knew there was no point, you look around the room, trying to spot any of the Spanish, or anyone involved with them.

“What's going on?” Polly now questions more seriously, Ada now backing her up.

Your sister turns to face your in-laws, “There's uninvited guests here, some of our enemies...”

Polly's face darkens and Ada's brows rise.

Polly then turns her head looking around and then her gaze lands on 3 young lads. She takes a couple of steps across the room.

“Mum?” one of the younger lads, seeming the eldest out the three, furrows his brows up at polly, and then eyes you and the others around you, “Is everything alright?”

“Micheal, I want you to go to Tommy and let him know there's unwanted Spanish guests here, enemies of the l/n foundation.” Aunt Polly states in an authoritative tone, “Isaiah, Finn, just keep an eye out for the Spanish.”

All three boys nod and does as they're told.

The door to Thomas' office gets swung open, revealing a panicked Micheal, “Tommy!”

The Shelby gangster looks up from the paperwork, a string of smoke releasing his lips, he promised to polly that it would take only a couple of minutes, yet has been stuck in his office for half an hour, “Micheal, what's wrong?”

“Tommy, there's unwanted Spanish guests here, enemies of the l/n foundation.” Micheal walks towards his desk, eyeing the paperwork.

Tommy then stands up from his seat, stubbing his cigar out, placing his pistol into his holster, “Make sure everyone stays put, Micheal.”

Thomas leaves the office, Micheal following behind into the hall.

“John, Arthur!” He motions for the two to come over, joining your sister and niece, your mother, your auntie, polly, Isaiah, Finn ada, esme, Micheal and himself.

As the family has all came together, your mother begins to fill the family in on how no one knows where (uncle’s name) is, (younger brother’s name), (older sister’s husband’s name) and (male cousin) are looking for him as well as the fact there are unwanted Spanish enemies here, as guests.

Tommy looks around the group.

“Is everythin' alright?” Arthur asks his younger brother, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Where the fuck's my wife?” he spits out in protectiveness, his gaze darting around the room for his spouse. You're his wife now, you're his woman now, you're his responsibility.

“She was with us a moment ago.” ada blurts out, worry overtaking her body, worried for her sister in law she just grew a strong bond over.

“Where is she now!?”

“Who's that?” Esme states, motioning over towards an older lad, who's walking at a fast paste, across the dance floor, standing out, like a white crayon in a box full of black ones.

Everyone looks at the guy Esme gestures towards.

“John, Arthur, come with me. Everyone else, keep guarded.” Tommy then follows the older man with his two brothers following behind.

“Mum, she'll be fine, she's capable of anything.” your older sister wraps her arms around your mum's shoulders, assuring her you're fine. Polly passes her a glass of whiskey, knowing how the worry feels, as she felt the same when Tommy, John and Arthur went off to war.

“She's a strong woman.” your auntie adds.

“Auntie y/n the best!” your niece butts in, making the family chuckle.

Your fist meets one of the Spanish men's nose, causing him to stumble back into the wall holding onto his broken, bloody nose, a couple of the enemies lay on the floor, dead, blood covering your white wedding gown.

“You bitch!” a strong Spanish accent is heard behind you, causing you to turn and grab the wrist that was aimed at you, pulling the lad forward, putting him into a headlock, “Oh, I'm the bitch?” you sarcastically spit out, facing him towards the other man, him watching as you shoot the man in the headlock, dropping dead.

The guy with the broken nose looks at you in horror, horrified at what such a pretty, naive-looking woman could do, he clearly underestimated you. You're no naive woman, you're a woman with power and intelligence. In your eyes, no msn can own you, snd you'll make sure that Thomas Shelby's well aware of that.

Another bullet releases from your pistol, piercing the heart. He falls dead. As the bullet was shot, you get pushed to the side, harshly against the wall, getting pinned. You groan at the harsh contact. The man lifts his gun up. Unable to react in time, he wacks the gun across your face, face snapping to the right, pain shoots through, a few cuts begin to let out blood. Without being able to process what just happened, he punches you, your face snapping the other direction. You let out a painful grunt.

A cold, metal barrel meets your chin, face now tilting up, looking at him coldly and with deadly eyes, even though he could end your life in seconds.

“I knew you were sexy, but I didn't think that having you under me, with the ability to end your life in seconds could be sexier.” he growls out in a strong Spanish accent, “What should I do hm, darling? You've killed all the others.”

You stare up at the man as he looks you up and down, checking you out in the bloody white wedding gown with the stained veil decorating your head.

He then grinds his hips into yours, causing you to back yourself more into the wall, you've never felt so vulnerable, “Should I fuck you and then kill you, or just kill you, huh? What would your husband think when he sees you dead, my cum traveling down your legs?”

You close your eyes, not wanting to look at the older man, disgusted, “You dirty fucking bastard.” you mutter out, clearly not wanting to admit how you're in a dead end.

That earned another sack across your face, you whine out in pain, the gun barrel retuning to where it first laid. He clearly didn't like your attitude.

Bang.

part three coming soon!

dm to be added on the taglist!

taglist: @meadowshelby @iceyyycapsicle @lunxrstellx @jbrownta

[zanazirafanfic]

What Charles Would Do To Micah

I sent @noshirdalal the following question on Cameo: "Since Charles was denied the chance to flatten Micah's face in the Epilogue, I would love to see him roast the hell out of the rat. Be as mean as you would like. (All in good fun, Micah is my favorite villain and I love Peter too.) Happy holidays!"

This was his response (transcript below the video.) Y'ALL. I was not ready for how amazing this was. Rather than roast Micah, he opted to burn him to a crisp and scatter the ashes. Very cathartic. It is very, very lucky for Micah that Charles wasn't up there on the summit beside John, because neither Micah nor Dutch would've even been able to open their mouths before it was just over.

PERFECT. Poignant. Believable as hell. As much as Charles cautions John against seeking vengeance on Micah, I don't think he'd reserve any of that same caution for himself. I think, like Sadie and Arthur, he considers himself more ghost than man. In another universe (where John didn't have to make a decision that would lead the Pinkertons to kidnap his family in RDR1) I can definitely see Charles and/or Sadie striking out on their own to take down Micah. John had more to lose, and Charles wouldn't (and didn't) want him risking himself when Arthur's dying wish had been to keep John and his family safe.

Thank you as always, Noshir. Your takes on these questions always exceed anything I'd imagined!

Transcript:

Zana, hey. You always ask interesting questions. "Since Charles never got to beat the crap out of Micah in the Epilogue, how would he roast him?"

I'll always be honest with you guys, so I think, uh... I'll just be as honest as I can be. If at any point in the Epilogue Charles encountered Micah, there would be no roast. There'd be no jokes, there'd be no games. He killed my best friend, and broke apart the only family I've ever had. And maybe that would've happened with or without his push, but he was definitely a big part of it.

I would hunt him. If he tried to go to ground, I would give him no ground to go to. If you're a friend of Micah's and you come to his aid, you are a dead man. If you have family, then at some point you walk off into the woods and disappear and your family never sees you again. But if you're a snake like Micah, well then the... The local sawbones probably rates that they died of fright, or from asphyxiation from the rat feces shoved in their mouths.

It would become known that Micah is hexed, that anyone near him for any period of time comes to a horrible end. And I would keep this up for a long time, until he has absolutely no one. And I would slowly guide him away from civilization and into the wilds.

I would liberate his horse, and then from there on in, he would never get a peaceful night's rest. His fires would always go out in the middle of the night. His food would spoil. He'd hear people at the edge of the campfire but find no one. And I would keep that up until he really started to break.

And then, I'd make myself known, carrying nothing but my bow, arrows, and my hatchet, and we'd play a game of cat and mouse, until he expends all his ammo. And then I would close on him, subdue him, but try not to hurt him. And I would take an arrow and push it between his ribs, and puncture his lung. 

And then I would let him go. And I'd give him bullets. I want him to run, and gasp, and drown on dry land, like my friend. And then I'd watch him waste his rounds trying to keep the wolves away, and let them tear him to pieces. And I'd let him see me watch.

That's what I would do to Micah Bell.

[the7thhorcrux]

Hello! This might be a common theme among Snape fics but…

What do you think about Severus and reader being good friends in school and slowly grow further apart due to his Death Eater status. That is, until they see each other again later in their adult years and maybe dormant affections rekindle?

severus snape, ❝ i missed you. ❞

i just might have an idea for an eventual part two-

༺☆༻

You tried. You really did! But no matter how hard you tried to keep in touch, it wouldn't matter. Because friendship should go both ways. And even though Severus clearly cared for you, you two eventually... drifted apart. You have to admit that you didn't treat his meetings with other Death Eaters seriously at first. But who can blame you? His constant excuses were made to make you think it's nothing serious. "we're just going there to talk" or "they are my friends too, so i need to help them when they need me" were one of the many things you'd hear in your teenage years still at school. But once you both graduated and his 'friend group' turned out to be officially well known literal cult (!), you did set the boundary there. Long talks turned into brief conversations, those into writing letters, until finally Severus stopped replying to those that you had sent. You suspected he didn't even read them at all. Why would he? All you knew was the rumors of what the Death Eaters were doing now and apparently how far they were willing to go to prove their point. You were not only angry but also disappointed. In him, but also in yourself for not reacting sooner, when maybe there still was a chance to stop him. Prevent any of this from happening. Especially now, that the Dark Lord was back.

༺☆༻

You sat at the table, drumming your fingers against the wooden surface as Molly set down a warm cup of tea in front of you. With a small nod and a smile you took a sip. The Order members were still on their way here, as you were informed. It was rather spontaneous - bringing you here to help them. After your contact with Severus died down you decided to focus on your studies, mastering your abilities. And now, your connections and knowledge could be useful to help the Order and many other people. After all, if Albus Dumbledore himself asks for your assistance, then it's probably important. So here you are now. Sitting at the table at Grimmauld Place 12, chatting with Sirius and Molly, drinking tea as they tried to update you on what they got so far. You looked down at the newspaper Arthur brought in, focusing on it briefly as everyone walked into the room where the meeting was supposed to take place in. So many old and new faces you could see again. It should bring you joy, maybe even a sense of comfort. To see old friends again. Yet your heart stopped for a moment as Severus sat down at the end of the table, avoiding your gaze. You looked away, not sure what to do. Smile? Wave? it was confusing, so you decided to focus on more important matters at the moment.

After the meeting (and rather heated argument in between Severus and Sirius, that briefly made you realise how not as much they both had changed) you stood up, looking as the room to cleared. before you could even do anything you saw Severus was already gone. Even though you could've sworn he was right next to you just a moment before.

It was only two meetings later that Severus finally pulled you to the side on your way out of the building.

"Sev!" you blinked, not expecting him to actually initiate any contact with you, and definitely not like that. He muttered your name quietly and you had a feeling he said it out loud for the first time in years.

"I need to talk to you. Just for a minute," he explained. The tone of his voice betrayed how uncomfortable he actually felt at the moment - something you haven't seen in years. he must’ve noticed that too, because he relaxed slightly shortly after you nodded.

"i had no idea you belong to the Order." you said, awkwardly folding your arms on your chest.

"i, as well, was not informed you do too now." he responded, his voice a bit lower this time and tone much colder than he intended.

"is that a problem?" you frowned, asking defensively. "i know you probably didn't wanted to talk to me, but i don't think that our past should have any negative effect on the Order's efficiency-“

“what are you taking about?” he stopped your rambling and frowned.

“you’re not going to ask me to not talk to you outside of the Order meetings?” you asked, also frowning in confusion.

“Merlin, of course not,” he shook his head, visibly frustrated and maybe even annoyed. “i wanted to…” he paused. right. what did he wanted? “i suppose i wanted to say… that I’m sorry.” he muttered.

“you suppose?” you shook your head. “you decided to completely throw away our friendship and for what? to just come back years later? as if nothing happened?” you said, even though your tone betrayed that there was no real anger behind those words; just regret that so many years were wasted.

“that’s my fault. for pushing you away.” he admitted reluctantly. “and i apologize for it.”

“i wrote you letters…” you said quietly after a moment of silence. “…but since you stopped reading them i stopped sending new ones-“

“i was always reading them,” he said defensively. “i still should have them somewhere… i just had no idea what to write to you back.”

You looked up at him, his expression showing how sincere he was in this moment.

“…we should catch up.” you offered quietly. “a lot of things had happened.”

“yes. we definitely should.” he nodded.

After a moment of silence you looked up at him again after he called your name again.

“i missed you.”

You smiled softly, feeling his hands rest on your shoulders gently, pulling you into a hug.

[taliesin-the-bored]

Tag game: tag nine people you’d like to know better.

Tagged by: @oneshoulderangel (Thank you for tagging me!)

Last song: At the moment, I have "Losing Your Memory" by Alan Star stuck in my head, which I suppose makes it my current song, not my last song. Hm. I get songs stuck in my head very easily, but the last one I had there for a significant amount of time was a mashup of different language versions of "Les Rois du Monde" for about a week. "Lehetsz Király", the Magyar version, is probably my favorite of them. It's worth a listen.

Currently watching: Normally, the answer would be "random mostly terrible old movies/shows" or "nothing much", but I currently have a hyperfixation on the musical Roméo et Juliette and have been watching it in multiple languages. (Thus, the song).

Three ships: This is hard. Maybe as a result of being on the ace and aro spectrums, I'm more likely to care about which characters are interacting than whether it's romantic or platonic. Here goes:

Kedivere/Bedikay. It can be romantic, platonic, or queerplatonic, but whichever way, I'm here for it. I probably spend too much time thinking about how in Cullwch and Olwen, when Cai gets mad at Arthur and marches out, Bedwyr stays behind, keeps acting like nothing's happened, and isn't the one to avenge Cai's death. The feeling of betrayal on both sides has a lot of unexplored potential. And the version where Bedivere dies and Kay fights to bring his body back safely while mortally wounded himself... And the version where Bedivere survives Camlann and Kay isn't said to fight in it, so they might be left together after their world has fallen apart...

Platonically or queerplatonically, Galahad and the Grail Heroine. I really like the tragic Grail Quest friendships, but I like theirs most, maybe because there's something weird and otherworldly about them both. I like it when characters are strange and endearing and doomed by the narrative.

Ever since reading John Matthews' retelling, which I read before the original, I've had a soft spot for Caradoc and Guinier. The Story of Caradoc is very disturbing, and I have some major qualms with Caradoc over a detail Matthews cut out, but all the same, there's a reason these two have the best track record with magical fidelity tests. Each of them would go to the ends of the earth for the other, and together, they're stronger than any curse.

Favorite Color: Blue, particularly royal blue and some teals.

Currently consuming: Black licorice with chocolate.

First ship: This is a hard one, since through elementary and most of middle school, I tended to go along with whatever I thought the author's intentions were and was more likely to unship something. The first non-endgame ship I got invested in was Sonya/Nikolai in War and Peace. I didn't like Nikolai, but Sonya did, and she was my favorite character, so I wanted her to be happy. The first non-canon couple I thought was meant to be together was also in War and Peace: Marya Bolkonskaya and Julie Karagina. My eighth grade self did not think their letters could be interpreted platonically. I still don't.

Last movie: If the musical doesn't count, the last movie I watched was Quest for Camelot, which was awful. Though not Robot Monster-level bad, Robot Monster has an elegance to its simplicity which Quest for Camelot lacks.

Currently working on: Various fics, most of them Arthuriana or CotRK-related (I am woefully behind on the Badfic Bingo), and (theoretically) an epic-style poem, though I haven't gotten much of it written for quite a while now.

Tagging: @gawrkin, @emperorcandy, @wildbasil, @gorewound, @knightsofsomethingorother, @ladyminaofcamelot, @tasosotaso, @amashelle, @gingersnaptaff (I have no idea who's been tagged so far, apart from the people on @oneshoulderangel's post, so I apologize for any multi-tags)

[scarfacemarston]

Abigail should be allowed to say she wasn't prepared to have Jack or did not want him at the time.

TW: Pregnancy, abortion mention, child mortality mention, death during pregnancy mention. People criticize John for not caring for Jack --- as they should! However, when it comes to the idea of whether John wanted him or not, he gets a free pass in comparison to Abigail, who is always demonized. This leads to how women are viewed in society. Why is it so evil that a woman says that she's not ready to have a child or didn't want one? Because of 1950s and earlier notions that women HAVE to be in the home? Ideas that conservatives still try to force down women's throats? Abigail was 18, for God's sake. She was JUST rescued from a brothel. She finally had freedom for the first time in her life. (She was literally either in the orphanage, living on the streets, or working in the brothels.) Most 18 year olds aren't ready to have children ----even if times were different back then. Just because women did have children back then at 18 or younger, doesn't mean they were ready or that they wanted to. She had just fallen in love, she finally had people that cared for her. She was doing what she was GOOD at. Hosea canonically praises her as the best thief/conwoman and actress he has EVER known. I have the audio link as proof if anyone wants it. That was all taken away from her the second she found she was pregnant. Massive amounts of women died, and by 1900 - 30 percent of children died before their first birthday. (hence what likely happened with the Marston baby, but I have my theories on what happened there in another post.) Those numbers would have been WORSE in 1895 and Abigail was living in a TENT most of this time. Can you imagine being pregnant, constantly on the move and giving birth with only the possibility of a roof above your head? Abigail would have grown up seeing the women in the brothels handle pregnancy. She would have seen the fear in those women's eyes. The hopelessness. She would have seen those try to perform abortions or women die during childbirth - or be kicked out of the brothel for becoming pregnant in the first place. Also, Abigail lost her status once she became pregnant. She couldn't provide for the gang in the same way. She didn't have John's support. Grimshaw canonically doesn't like her and Bessie is dead at this point. She has no woman who cares about her. Then Jack came and she was treated like a burden - a charity case to everyone but Hosea and probably Arthur. Single women in the 1890s, especially illiterate ones with zero prospects were almost never accepted. Abigail also might have dealt with post partum depression, too. Abigail talks about how she's always wanted a family, but she also talks about how frustrated she is with Jack and how she wishes she had help. She talks about how the gang views her and outside of Tilly and Hosea, hardly anyone ever talks to her...at all. Sadie is extremely busy and there aren't any conversations between them outside of chapter 2. Most of the camp doesn't. She's completely isolated and considered a source of drama. Abigail had everything to lose, including her life. So why is she demonized?

[ceo-of-sloppy-women]

OKAY SO I HAVE THOUGHTS

There is definitely someone who's probably said this better than me but here's my two cents anyway

I've played this game like twice and never really though to pay attention to where people get shot/how they die... but then I saw a piece of art and something clicked in my brain. If this was a quick in the moment shot, the placement wouldn't really matter, but this is a) a work of art and fiction b) extremely deliberate on Milton's part

Milton lets Hosea walk off - there is a long moment where Milton could have shot Hosea anywhere (the leg, head, nape). What I mean is he had a clear shot. Yet, he waited until Hosea turned around. He aimed deliberately for his chest. He had enough time to think it through and he knew for 100% that Hosea had no weapon (since he was captured). Turning around wasn't a threat. Yet, Milton still chose to act. And the creators of the game had to fully animate and decide all of this - this moment would have had to go through so many hands, from writers to animators to supervisors (so let us assume any symbolism wasn't lost on them). So, I am treating this as deliberate.

Realistically, shooting someone in the chest is the best place to kill someone. Especially over the heart. While headshots are effective, its a smaller target and far easier to miss. But, hit the heart? All that blood is suddenly not going to the brain (or anywhere for that matter) and the victim is very likely to die. Painful too because you have nerves in your both but no pain receptors in your brain - meaning Hosea could damn well probably feel that bullet (if he was real). We even see how painful this is in game (his death is pretty brutal because he has a brief few moments where he is very much alive an d dying alone in the street). Milton, being a man of the "law", definitely already knew how painful this death was - he probably even killed people this way before - so combined with the deliberate intent, Hosea died suffering, choking out his last wilting breath in a gurgled cough. Brutality chosen over execution (heart-shot instead of head-shot).

Don't even get me started on the dying breath - given that Hosea had been coughing since the start of the game, his last breath wasn't even a moment of peace. It was probably utter suffering as he choked on the very air he had desperately been trying to breathe for months.

Symbolically is an entirely different story. Up until now Dutch has pulled some crazy schemes but there is a definite shift when they come back from Guarama - which happens AFTER Hosea dies. The heart is a symbol of compassion, of virtue, of love - of having respect for your fellow man and ultimately, morals. All of which Dutch seems to have lost post-Guarama; he is a changed man who burns the world around him with every step. We see this fire symbology a few times, but most especially when Dutch leaves Arthur in the burning warehouse. Almost as if the snow we start in at the beginning melts into water without Hosea to keep it cool (ie the ocean of chapter 5) until it evaporates in the wake of Dutch's spiral into firey insanity. This is implying Hosea to be the cold/ice to Dutch's heat/fire. The death of the companion leaves behind only the passion of compassion, as Dutch is left with only conviction and no withstanding moral compass. Micah and Dutch together are only fire with fire, while Arthur manifests into ice too late, with only enough time to save the rest of the gang from Dutch's fallout.

Hosea is also not the only one who dies during this mission, he is the only one to die of a shot to the heart. Lenny also dies, but he's shot in what I can best estimate to be the guts - his guts to join up with an outlaw gang and rob a back literally led to his death. Lenny's death doesn't seem to affect Dutch as much as Hosea though - like Dutch is like "Oh no! Anyway lets keep going". But with Hosea's death - Dutch gets SUPER PISSED - that whisper of "Hosea" to himself speaks volumes more than his reaction to Lenny. Dutch was close with Hosea; whether you want to call them friends or lovers, they were narrative parallels and each other's foils. THus, it makes sense that Hosea's death had a profound impact on Dutch, far more than Lenny, and since this is a work of fiction, Hosea's death being a shot to the heart should not be taken lightly.

Hosea being shot in the heart was the symbolic death of Dutch's heart. The world took the last piece of good Dutch thought he had left - the last reason to hold back and Dutch wanted to burn the world down around him. And its even more insane that this was a deliberate act on Milton's part - while he didn't know that Hosea specifically would hurt Dutch in this way, he is a smart man. Milton had been following and researching the Van Der Linde gang for a hot minute, he knew the members, he knew the history, he knew that Dutch and Hosea went way back than most other gang members. Milton knew what he was doing - this was a deliberate attempt to dismantle the gang by "cutting the head off the snake" (making Dutch desperate and isolated with the death of his oldest partner). Especially since Dutch calls Hosea his friend right before Milton does this. What better way to drive that message home than shooting his friend in the heart - making his last moments suffering alone in the street?

While Milton had no idea how well his plan would work, shooting Hosea in the chest was a deliberate choice intended to aid in the dismantlement of the Van Der Linde gang by getting to Dutch psychologically. As a work of fiction, killing Hosea in this fashion was a choice by the creators riddled with symbolism.

[wisteria-lodge]

Always imagined the Weasleys as in debt. Not Arthur’s fault, but his father’s, probably. Poverty can’t be an old thing about them, both Molly and Arthur have very “rich people” habits, and they are in fact still on the sacred 28 list, which I’m sorry, like it should mean something even if JKR retconned it later as some sort of unofficial thing.

So my headcanon is this: the Weasleys were your regular pure blood family, aristocrats essentially. Maybe not as rich as Malfoys or Potters, but still very well-to-do, and then lost it all very recently. That’s why we are presented with the world where there are supposed to be many many weasleys, but in fact there are only Arthur’s branch. His brother Billius was a raging alcoholic, too. The twins said he died from delirium from drinking basically.

So here goes: the sacred 28 form the wizard House of Lords, that’s why Arthur is able to push for some laws (and I think that given that the laws thing and the sacred 28/blood purity are explored in the same book, that’s probably what she intended), because he has the seat in the wizarding House of Lords. He and Lucius knew each other well and were friendly/grew up around each other before the Weasleys went bankrupt and Arthur chose to side with Dumbledore in the war. That’s why Lucius is going around talking to his son about Arthur, while sounding very bitter. Explains the strange money flow and all of the connections and favors, too.

What a fantastic theory. I absolutely love this. You can absolutely make the case that the Weasleys and/or Prewetts were aristocratic families who fell from grace *recently.*

Like we have:

~ Molly's squib second cousin the accountant who they "never talk about." Yeah I BET. It sounds like this cousin just left the wizard world completely. Are you even allowed to do that?

~ Uncle Bilius, Ron's namesake. The alcoholic who officially died after seeing a grim... but it's kinda vauge if grim even exist, so we're going to chalk that one up under "died under mysterious circumstances."

~ Aunt Muriel, who has money... but she's not helping out Molly and Arthur, even though she's "fond of Bill" so does she really? She's the one with the goblin-made moonstone tiara, which kinda sounds like (the last?) family heirloom.

~ Molly's brothers Fabian and Gideon who died unexpectedly young, and without heirs. Does this mean that the Prewett money went to another family/branch of the family? Was Molly out of the running because she technically wasn't a Prewett at the time, and the money follows the name? Also, she'd already had most of her large family before they died, so maybe she was counting on an income that dried up.

(do they have death duties / inheritance tax in the wizarding world? they MIGHT.)

Any one of the above relatives might have absolutely cost the family a LOT of money, and left Arthur and Molly playing catch-up.

[twola]

idk if this is too vague, but arthur/f!reader in the classic trope of, oh my god I can't believe we both almost just died sex? did they both almost drown? Was there a fire? did he save her life? who knows! i feel like arthur would sees the woman he loves almost die and immediately fuck about it

Okay this has been in my asks for WAY too long and it’s such a good one and I wanted to do it justice.

Left Unsaid

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

When he think's he's almost lost you in a run-in with a rival gang, Arthur quickly gets over his nervousness in approaching you.

The bloodcurdling scream jolts him from sleep, making him stumble up from where he was sitting on a rickety chair in the main room of the old cabin. At first, he thinks it's a dream, but when the sound of breaking glass pierces the night, Arthur shoots up; the chair falling to the ground in a clatter as he quickly shakes the vestiges of sleep from his mind.

This abandoned cabin off of Eris Field seemed the perfect place to spend the night instead of making the trek all the way back to Shady Belle tonight - your yawning from behind him on his horse had him chuckling as he made the decision to stay - doing the gentlemanly thing and giving you the bedroom with the old single bed. As much as he’d like to be sharing it with you - he remained externally aloof - proclaiming that he’d sleep on the chair in the main room. He certainly did not dare to ask to share your bed - not now, probably not ever. 

But the rustling and thumping behind the door where you sleep has his heart racing - his hand flies to his revolver as he readies himself to throw his shoulder into the door and shoot whatever it is that is making that noise, but the door bursts open before he gets the chance.

A man stands on the threshold - dirty, and grimy, with a faded gray woolen military uniform and a yellow bandana around his neck.

Of course, goddamn Lemoyne Raiders.

The raider holds up his knife in front of him, and in the din of movement and chaos around them, Arthur can see the liquid sheen over the steel in the man’s hand.

The knife, dripping with blood. The man, seemingly unharmed. The door, slightly ajar, to the bedroom where you slept.

A cold stone settles in Arthur’s gut as he puts the pieces together. In an instant, he snarls, diving toward the man with little regard for his own person, tackling him to the ground and ready to rip him apart with his bare hands for what he’s done to you. As Arthur mounts himself on the man’s chest and begins to strangle him, the movement knocks the oil lantern off the table, crashing to the wooden floor and immediately bursting into flame.

The man’s neck snaps between Arthur’s hands and he immediately leaps up, moving toward the bedroom where you were sleeping.

Another body crashes into him, a Lemoyne Raider dressed like he is straight out of a Civil War battle tackles Arthur to the ground, the two of them tumbling along the floor and breaking through the rickety door to the porch. Arthur rolls backward, unsheathing his hunting knife as he grits his teeth, ready to slice this damn bastard into shreds.

Of course, the wannabe soldier is no match for the hardened outlaw. They sure as hell don’t make them like they used to. Arthur easily dodges a swing of the man’s fist and throws his weight forward. He sinks his knife into the raider’s gut, and immediately shoves him to the ground. He gurgles blood from his mouth as Arthur rushes over him, back toward the house.

The flames burst out the windows as he barrels back toward the door, grabbing at the handle and cursing aloud as it burns him. 

The constriction in his chest has settled into a churning in his gut as he prepared to kick the door in. At this point would he be finding your charred, lifeless body, having bled out on the floor because he couldn’t protect you?

“Arthur-!”

He steps off the porch, not sure if he is lightheaded or hallucinating, but you move toward him, hitching your skirts, blood covering your blouse, your hair wild.

“Jesus-” He crashes into you, having nearly leaped the final few steps, crushing you into his chest, nearly causing you to stumble.

He yanks you back, large hands on your shoulders, and looks you up and down, eyeing the blood patch on your blouse.

“N-not mine.” You breathe, but he does not move his hand from your ribcage. It presses inward, against the wet cotton, splaying across your side as if he did not believe you, checking for where the knife would have marred your flesh.

“Arthur-” You whisper, your hands tight on his biceps, “I’m alright.”

His eyes dart back up to yours, searching, pupils dilated, breathing heavily.

“Ar-”

You’re cut off completely as he pulls you against him and presses his lips desperately against yours, muffling your surprised yelp as his tongue demands entrance into your mouth. After a moment of shock, you melt into his embrace, fingers tightening on his shirt sleeves as you open your mouth to him.

He kisses you like you are the air he breathes. Like you are some kind of salvation… like he thought he almost lost something.

Arthur pulls back, breathing heavily, a flush having taken over his face, “Christ-” he goes to unwind his arms from you, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

It’s his turn to be cut off as your hands immediately travel to the collar of his shirt and you pull him down to your lips to kiss him again, needy as you moan into his mouth.

His arms immediately recircle you, hands moving down from your ribs, down, down to your waist, your hips, your rear. Hooking his arms around the back of your thighs, you’re lifted up, squealing in surprise into his mouth as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

Continuing to press into each other's mouths, you barely notice him walking the two of you back, further from the flaming cabin, into the woodline, and finally against a tree trunk a safe distance away. He pulls back, panting as you recline against it, his arms tight under your thighs.

He gazes upon your kiss-swollen lips; your heaving chest as you breathe heavily, your pupils blown wide in arousal. Arthur takes the opportunity to roll his hips once, his hardening cock pressing against your cunt, and your eyes flutter closed as a needy, breathy whine escapes your lips.

“Arthur-”

He does it again, maybe for his sake as much as your own, the blood rushing to his groin and filling his cock properly. He grits his teeth as the rolling becomes rutting, your gasps driving him insane.

Before he gets to the point of no return, he slows his hips and leans over to recapture your lips in another kiss. As he pulls his 

“Thinkin’ you was dead back there-” He pushes his lips to yours again, “Christ- I… I never told you-” 

One of his hands leaves your thighs, but you have no fear he’s going to drop you. He buries it in layers of cotton, pulling at your skirts to move them from his way, reaching your bloomers and pressing against your cunt, watching your face intently as you moan, the cotton separating you quickly dampening against his fingers.

He leans in again and groans against your neck. Grabbing the cotton tightly, he yanks until he feels the seams give way, the tearing sound ringing in his ears as he delves within the ruined fabric to your soaking folds. You jolt against him and whine loudly as he slides his fingers along the seam of your body.

Arthur covers your mouth with his own as he sinks his fingers into you, working you open as you clutch desperately at his shoulders.

After you’ve cried out several times in the night, his hand leaves you and you sigh at the loss, he shushes you gently as he works at the buttons of his trousers, finally freeing his cock from his pants after moments of fiddling. His hand returns to your thigh as he adjusts you in his arms. The head of his cock presses gently against the rim of your cunt.

Your hands move from his shoulders to cup his face, your thumb tracing his lower lip gently before he sucks the tip into his mouth, his eyes trained on yours.

He pulses his hips and his cockhead slips inside you. Your brows crinkle with the first vestiges of the ache of penetration, and he leans forward again to press his lips upon your forehead.

“What did you never tell me?” You whisper as he holds you on the cusp of joining, the precipice of sheathing himself into you.

One of his hands leaves your thigh, though you are completely unafraid of falling with your legs wrapped around him and the strength of his other arm. His fingers brush back a strand of your hair from your forehead, tucking it gently behind your ear before his rough and calloused palm rests on your cheek.

“You’d have died and I woulda never told you I’m in love with you.”

Your eyebrows raise in shock as you clutch at him, and while you remain silent, after a moment, you pull him closer with your legs, nudging his back with your ankles, and he slowly slides himself inside you, inch by inch, until your hips touch and you mewl with the stretch. He hums softly before slowly, gently, rocking his hips, starting a slow rhythm as you get used to him.

His powerful arms keep you suspended against the tree trunk with each roll of his hips, each glide of the inches of him in and out of you, well glossed and hot with your slick.

Arthur’s lips press to yours incessantly, muffling your gasps and whines as he presses into you. After one particularly deep thrust, you throw your head back in ecstasy, bumping against the trunk of the tree.

“Careful there, darlin’,” Arthur slows his hips, and tightening his grip on your thighs, he pulls you away from the tree, you yelp and tighten your legs around his hips. He chuckles softly as he walks you, still joined, a few steps from the tree and slowly lowers the both of you to the ground on a patch of grass. Spreading himself out over you, he buries his head against your neck as he lets go of your thighs, his forearms on either side of your shoulders, rocking his hips into yours again.

The staccato whine of the syllables of his name escapes you as you hook your ankles around each other over his back. Carding your hands through his hair, your fingers interweave between his honeyed strands, his hat long gone in your desperation to join yourselves.

He presses himself up above you as his thrusts become more erratic, his breathing loud and heavy as he pounds you into the ground.

“God-” you cry out as your hands grasp his shirt, “Arthur, yes-”

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, looming over you as he careens toward completion.

You arch your back, your thighs wrapping tighter around him as you begin to babble - “Yes- Arthur… I love you too-”, another gasp as he hits that spot within you, “God - I love you so much-”

That’s it. There it is, stripped bare and bleeding out like an open wound, his heart catching in his chest at your confession, and his amazement leaves him speechless as he thrusts into you once more, holding himself as deep as he can possibly get into you, feeling you pulse and clutch around him, wailing your pleasure into the night. It’s only a moment more before he has the wherewithal to yank himself from you, in the nick of time as he spurts his seed over your cunt, dripping white into the dark curls at the joining of your legs.

He’s gasping, you’re gasping, and he groans as he settles himself to the side of you, barely able to hold himself up with the exertion. Your legs hang open as you pant, flushed from your cheeks down your neck.

One of his large hands spreads out over your chest, against your racing heart, and you turn your head toward him, breathing out through your nose as a smile graces your lips.

“Probably should get outta here before any more stragglers find us.” He says, out of breath as he removes his hand to tuck himself back into his trousers. You nod and sit up, pulling your skirts down over your legs.

“D’ya think…” you trail off as you watch him rebutton his pants before he pushes himself to stand. His hair is ridiculously ruffled from the amount of times you've run your fingers through it.

“Mm?” He holds out his hand to you to help you up. 

You take it, and he pulls you up into his embrace, his hand secure on your lower back.

“Was wondering if we could spend the rest of the night in Rhodes or somewhere instead of heading all the way back to camp…” You ask as you lay a hand on his chest.

He squeezes you closer to him. 

“Sounds mighty nice… certainly wouldn't mind a stay in a hotel room tonight.”

[lolazoel]

It's valentines, i know, but i'm aroace and therefore not bound to the conventions of love! Have some hurt minimal comfort!

Concept idea:

Overkill potential

After Arthur's death Merlin waits. He waits a long time until all those he called family are dead, their descendents having forgotten their existence, the walls of camelot crumbled to ruins despite his best attempts to prevent it. So Merlin tries to follow Arthur, he lets himself sink to the bottom of Avalon lake, he knows he can't die but he wants to rest. Slowly air leaves his lungs, his vision blurrs until it fades to black, his ears ring. And then nothing. Silence.

His lungs draw in air and he sits up. His body feels too hot and too cold, his muscles stiff and joints aching but not from age like he has grown used to, instead from sickness and disuse.

"Gaius? Gwen?", he whispers as he sees Gwen, his queen, his first friend in Camelot, hug Gaius, his mentor and father figure. They flinch.

Suddenly Gwen has her arms slung around him, her lips meet his. He freezes. Gwen draws back, biting her lip and shaking her head. At least they both agree how kissing isn't for them.

"Merlin! You're alive!" Gaius patts his shoulder before ruffling his hair. "We feared the worst."

And suddenly Merlin understands. He is reliving his memories. After Nimueh had tried to kill him, his first encounter with death, this exact thing happened. He is just dreaming because his body is unable to properly come to life yet. It's okay. He can see his friends for a bit.

"Don't worry, I'm very bad at following orders, even when they come from the universe itself." Gaius gives him an odd look. That hasn't happened before... maybe his brain is adjusting the dream based on his actions and his knowledge of the people around him? Probably. Most likely.

Because none of this could be real. He studied magic, time travel was impossible. He checked. He could make time slower and faster but reverse its flow or stop it? No. Not even he could force time to do that. So it must be a dream. Of course it's a dream.

Yeah... it's not a dream. Every time he dies he creates basically a safe file, depending on how often the next death could kill a normal human he reverts back in files (>1 death potential) or stays in the same (1 death potential). The drowning thing? Given he didn't resurface? Very big death/overkill potential. Flinging him all the way back to his first death. Nimueh's poison. And how is Merlin supposed to explain that to anyone? Therefore hurt cuz Merlin dies a lot and believes it all to be a dream. Minimal comfort because he gets to see his friends!

[gingersnaptaff]

who are the main characters in welsh arthurian mythos?

Hi anon! You know, I looked at this question and just fuckin DIED with GLEE! Ehdhdjdhdjd I LOVE SHIT LIKE THIS!!!!! SHDJDJDH

First off, Arthur is pretty big. He's less a king and more of a warlord, but there's still a lot of cultural reverence for him in Welsh things. Seriously, Henry VII - a notable faux-Welshman - named his firstborn son Arthur purely because he was going to be Prince of Wales. Also, in Culhwch and Olwen his retinue has TWO Welsh GODS in it - Manawydan and Pryderi (my beloveds.) Idk what they're doing in it but I am inordinately pleased that they are there.

Also, Uther Pendragon / Uther Ben. Taliesin wrote a poem about him which is super fun. (Also, oddly enough Taliesin himself HAS been linked into Arthurian legends on multiple occasions. He's also another Arthur-type in that he's still regarded as tooling the line between mythical and real.)

Gwenhwyfar is also important even though she takes a back seat. Speculation is rife about whether she had a quest/myth about her (sorta like Culhwch and Olwen) and also her name means 'white phantom!' BRING IT BACK. I, for one, think she definitely did have a quest attributed to her in which Arthur had to do something to get her hand in marriage but idk WHAT.

Also, she's a GIANT!!!!!!!! EJDJDKDKDKD

Gwalchmai is also Super Important. There's speculation as to whether he was a mythical character who got implanted into the mythos or if he was always Atthur's nephew. Basically, he's a giant and he kills giants. Seriously, he's CONSTANTLY killing giants in the mythos. Plus he is called 'Gwalchmai Golden / Silver-tongued' in poetry too. In the Mabinogion, he's very often the one to soothe discord between the other knights so he's very diplomatic too.

Cai and Bedwyr, obviously! They come as a pair. Do Not Separate. Now, Cai is sometimes also seen to be a giant but his dad is Cynyr Ceinfarfog who was a real king. He ruled Dyfed and was the dad of Saint Non and, therefore, grandad to SAINT DAVID. (Wales' patron saint!) So Cai, like Arthur, has a saintly lineage. Before the French Romances shifted his character into the more recognisable Kay, Arthur's grumpy seneschal, Cai was a warrior of great renown. And literally superhuman. Like, nobody would received from.a blow from his sword, he could brave fire and water like nobody else, he has the ability to go nine nights and days without sleep or the need to breathe. He's a ledge.

Now, Bedwyr! Again he's a great warrior and ONE-ARMED. He's called Bedwyr Bedrydant (Bedwyr of the Perfect Sinew) and he's HOT SHIT. Seriously, he's like the most beautiful Knight in Arthur's court. The 10th-century poem 'pa gur' says that assailants 'fell by the hundred / before Bedwyr of the Perfect sinew ... fighting with Garwlwyd/ furious with sword and shield.' (Also, BTW Garwlwyd is possibly a werewolf.)

They have to put up with SO MUCH SHIT from Arthur's escapades it's ridiculous. They had to convince Arthur not to intervene in a King abducting a princess and carrying her back to his court, ffs. Give them a HOLIDAY. WITH SALMON TAXIS.

Now, I would say Merlin BUT he is added later into the mythology. He isn't there straight off. But he is Welsh. He's FUN. He was apparently based on Myrddin Wyllt. He went mad, and lived in a forest. His bestie was a king who died.

Now, I also think Owain, and Geraint on account of their having stories written about them but they're two kings who got folded into the mythos a bit later. Urien (Owain's dad) is another example.

Also, Macsen Wledig too. But again writers melded him in later. And I mean this in the sense that he and Arthur share similarities in how they're perceived in Welsh culture.

Anyways, anon, I hope this helps. I'm probably forgetting a TONNE of characters (Peredur, for one.) But I Don't want to bore you or make anybody trawl through this unwillingly so I shall stop! Hopefully, this helps! Thank u for the question!!!!