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thefiery-phoenix · 8 months ago

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YANDERE THOMAS SHELBY HEADCANONS

There is a REASON he is known as the Devil of Small Heath around Birmingham. Pretty much all the men who come for a drink at the Garrison have the common sense not to mess with Thomas Shelby, just by hearing his mere name sends shivers up people's spines and for a reason too because of his dark deeds against people who stand against him. If there's one thing he values the most, it's family. He's willing to kill anyone who dares to prove to be a danger to his family

You were new to the city of Birmingham after completing your education overseas at a reputed university and you had a dream and passion for becoming a writer, to make a name for yourself in the literary world. You were supposed to meet your childhood friend Russell whom you've known ever since the two of you were in your school days as you opened the door to the Garrison and took a shaky breath as you entered the pub and sat down on a stool. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your dress nervously as you'd never had the habit of consuming alcohol much less even stepping foot inside a pub. The bartender Harry Fenton's eyes landed on you, as he had a polite smile on his face. "Where are you from miss, haven't seen you around here'' he said in a friendly tone as you told him about you visiting Birmingham for the first time and how you were supposed to meet your friend Russell. The bartender offered you a drink on the house but you politely declined as his lips curved into an amused smile at your refusal, finding it amusing that even though you were in a bar, you'd refused a drink of alcohol. Little did you know, there were 3 pairs of eyes watching you without your knowledge from a nearby booth

"Oh, she's new. Haven't seen her around'' said Ada to her brothers as she sipped her drink and looked at you with an interested expression on her face. "I know...she looks like a goody two shoes, bein' in a pub an all and not drinkin'' said Arthur as he smirked to himself as he gulped down his beer. "I know...real beauty ain't she?" said John as he grinned and took a swig of his drink as the three of them started discussing about you. Just then, they went quiet when Thomas entered wearing his glasses, his smart black suit along with Polly by his side as the two of them sat down at the booth with the rest of them. "Alfie's men are causing trouble again...need to get rid of that bloody dolt for good'' grumbled Tommy as he fished in his pocket for a cigar and lit it as he took a puff of smoke and sighed. His eyes fell on John who was still staring at you as his gaze landed on you as well and he surveyed you with his calculating piercing gaze. "Whos' she?" he asked the others with a stoic expression on his face as they told him about you and how you were waiting for someone

He couldn't help but feel slightly amused when he heard you wanted to become a writer at Birmingham of all places which was definitely NOT the place for you in his opinion. Yet his eyes never left you, as he kept observing you from a distance. "Oh, looks like you fancy her now don't you?" asked Ada in a teasing voice. "Shut up Ada'' he retorted as he continued to look at you. However a few seconds later he spotted some lousy drunk sleazebag trying to make you uncomfortable as he kept getting too close to you and you had an uncomfortable expression on your face. You tried to keep politely declining his offer to join him for the night but the man finally had enough as he grabbed your wrist. "I'll show you what happens to wenches like you who think they're too good for the world...little brat'' he drawled as his eyes traveled down your body hungrily. Within a matter of a few seconds, the man let out a sharp scream of pain as the whole pub fell silent and the chatter around you ceased at once

"She said no...'' said Thomas in a cold voice as he glared at the man who tried to have his way with you and twisted his hand till the man fell on his knees, writhing and groaning in pain. "Pathetic...next time you do something like that, I'll be sure to actually cut your bloody hand off and feed it to the dogs'' said Thomas as he looked down at the man in contempt as the man whimpered and got up and left. Thomas looked at you as you thanked him and he waved his hand dismissively telling you it was nothing, Deep down, secretly, there was a part of him that was glad he could just help you in time. Your friend Russell arrived into the pub a few seconds later as he looked at Thomas with a slightly pale expression on his face. "How about you be punctual on time and not make a lady wait...'' said Thomas as he glared at Russell before he went back to join the others at the booth and continued to stare at you and Russell talking with each other. He hated the feeling that was rising in his chest when he saw you talking to someone else, it was a bitter feeling bubbling inside him

Russell and you talked about your old school memories and how things were back in your childhood days as the two of you caught up with each other on what was going on in each other's lives. Thomas couldn't stand the way you were laughing at that moron's dull jokes, as he scoffed slightly to himself. He saw Russell hugging you which made him clench his fists till his knuckles turned white and he couldn't understand why the hell he was behaving like this for someone he'd just met. Yet, he didn't like the feeling of seeing you with that dimwit. Congratulations, you've managed to spike his curiosity regarding you so you now have the most dangerous mobster in all of Birmingham at your back. He's determined to find out more about you when he's determined to do something, he takes his task at hand very seriously

He'll have Arthur and John dig up information regarding you for him, everything from your history to your daily activities and your likes and dislikes. He's a complete stalker and blends really well in the shadows, his family don't even call him out for his behavior, they're just glad he's finally found someone to love and don't see anything wrong with his obsessive and possessive behavior towards you. Polly is looking forward to making you a part of the family as soon as possible. He'll start off slow, getting to actually know you personally and talking to you. He likes your company and likes hearing your voice. It soothes him and whenever you tell him something about yourself, he'll just smirk slightly to himself since he already knows everything about you, nothing he hasn't heard of before but he'll still play along for your sake

He'll start leaving little gifts at your doorstep like your favorite chocolates or a pretty dress for you to wear or something like that or some of your favorite flowers. You have a feeling like you're being stalked and when you rush to him for protection, his eyes glint with amusement, oh you sweet child, you truly had no idea. But all the same, he's glad and pleased he was the first one to come to your mind when you felt like you needed protection and he's more than willing and pleased to protect you and keep you safe. Rivals? What rivals? He's Thomas FOOKIN Shelby of the Peaky Blinders, when he wants something, he gets it. It's best if you don't know how many people's he's killed for daring to get too close to you. He'll either send John and Arthur to abduct the schmuck in the middle of the night and take the person to a deserted secluded location where Thomas will just use a single bullet to put the lousy scumbag who dared to lay his filthy eyes on you to put them to sleep permanently

He WANTS you to rely on him, it just feeds into that god complex ego of his, but also because he loves you, in his own twisted manner of course. He hates it when you show interest in someone else who's not him, it's like you're insulting him to his face and telling him that he's not good enough for you. Deep down he's just insecure and he doesn't want to lose you, he's already lost plenty of important people in his life and the last thing he wants is to lose you too

He's a control freak, he wants to know EVERY thing that happens in your life and his men are ALWAYS watching your every move. He finally decides to take things to the next step and approaches your parents to ask them for permission to marry you while you aren't in the house. Your father is slightly surprised to see Thomas standing outside his house as he invites him in and after the usual small talk and serving tea, Thomas clears his throat and decides to speak. "Sir...I would like to marry your daughter'' he said as the atmosphere became slightly tense. "Mr. Shelby, with all due respect, I am a father who wishes the best for his daughter. I know what kind of man you are Mr. Shelby, my daughter shall not marry a man as dangerous as you where her life would be at stake constantly or get thrown into the madness of the underworld. Please refrain from seeing my daughter again'' said your father in a firm tone as your mother agreed with his words. Thomas had to hand it to your dad, he was a gutsy courageous man who could actually stand up to him which would make things far more interesting

Seeing your parents and asking them for their permission was merely a formality, he already made preparations to being you to Arrow House which even your parents could not stop. "Mr. L/N, you are a smart man, a father who's willing to protect his darling daughter and I admire that to a certain extent. Your daughter WILL be mine one way or another, coming to see you was just a mere formality. Good day'' said Thomas as he put on his hat and enjoyed the way your father's expression turned pale at his words

That night after you returned back home from your publishing office and you set your books down, during dinner, you saw your parents looking slightly tense and nervous than usual. "Mom, dad...what's the matter'' you asked them gently as they stared at you with mournful looks on their faces. Your mother took a shaky breath before she spoke "Darling...your father and I love you very much, but you...you need to leave Birmingham immediately. It's for your own good'' You stared at them in shock, what were they saying? "Mom, dad... have I...have I become a burden to you both?'' you whispered as your eyes welled up with tears. "Shush child. Don't say such nonsense. You are the light of our lives but that man Thomas Shelby is a dangerous man...he's a relentless monster who wants to make you his and I'll be damned to let my darling daughter get married to a monster like him...you are to leave Birmingham immediately. We've already packed your trunk, you'll be taking the next train to Istanbul where you'll be staying with your aunt and uncle there for a while...it's just temporary my dear...hopefully'' said your father in a gentle tone as he sighed heavily and his eyes welled with tears too

"Mom...dad...I don't want to go, please...'' you said as you sniffed sadly. "It is not up for argument pumpkin, it's for your safety'' said your mother as she said as her voice cracked with emotion and she gulped down a glass of water. After dinner was over, you sat in the carriage with Russell who helped you with your trunk and you hugged your parents as tears streamed down your cheeks, you didn't know how long it would be before you'd get to see them again. You made it to the railway station and got out of the carriage as Russell helped you with your trunk. "It's for your own good you know, Thomas Shelby is a dangerous man...your parents are right. I'll miss you, don't worry, we'll keep in touch with letters'' said Russell as he placed a comforting arm around your shoulder. There weren't any people at the station since it was midnight but you thought it might work in your favor, unaware of what the universe had in store for you

"Step away from my future wife before I shoot you'' said a familiar voice nearby as you saw Thomas and the rest of the men from his Peaky Blinders gang head towards you. Your eyes widened in horror as you tried to back away from them when Russell stood in front of you to protect you from them. "Leave her alone Shelby'' he said. "Tch...how annoying, you know, I'm not a man with regrets but I regret not killing you that day at the Garrison. Not to worry, that can be arranged today'' said Thomas as he brought out a revolver and after a loud bang, your dear friend Russell was now on the ground dead, his eyes looking lifeless as the blood oozed out from his wound and you let out a scream of horror as tears streamed down your eyes. The train to Istanbul was approaching as you saw the train from a distance and your heart almost leapt from relief, this was your chance to escape and leave

John and Arthur held you by your arms and prevented you from escaping as you flailed and screeched on top of your lungs. "Shhh... don't worry, you'll be happy with me. Just be a good girl for me...I'll keep you safe'' he said and those were the last words you heard from him before a rag was placed on your face and you passed out. His passion for your love is beautiful and terrifying at the same time, laced with extreme obsessiveness and devotion to keep you safe. Love truly was the most powerful force of all...

#yandere thomas shelby #yandere thomas shelby x reader #yandere thomas shelby scenarios #yandere thomas shelby headcanons #yandere thomas shelby oneshots #yandere thomas shelby imagines #yandere thomas shelby x reader oneshots #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby headcanons #dark thomas shelby #dark thomas shelby x reader #dark thomas shelby imagines #peaky blinders #yandere peaky blinders x reader #yandere peaky blinders characters #yandere peaky blinders characters x reader #dark peaky blinders #dark peaky blinders x reader

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brujahinaskirt · 1 year ago

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You know, when it really comes down to it, the main thing that tears me to pieces about Arthur & John is encapsulated so nicely in the trope of the Lonesome Cowboy.

RDR2's storytelling is particularly masterful as it shows us that everyone is the mythic Lonesome Cowboy... but at the same time, I believe it manages to quietly suggest there is one true Lonesome Cowboy of the series.

And it ain't Arthur Morgan.

DEEPLY overwritten explanation below!

On the surface, Arthur is clearly set up by RDR2 to be our Lonesome Cowboy. He even sings the song. But is he really? Really, truly? Or is Arthur's brand of lonesomeness a clever model to help us, through comparison and contrast, begin to notice and understand another, deeper type of loneliness?

Arthur thinks he's unlovable and alone because he lacks one specific type of love, romantic domesticity, which he has dreamed throughout his life and consistently been denied. But though his pain is genuine, the idea that Arthur is alone and unloved is almost laughable. R* shows us every single game day that Arthur is surrounded by people who love him, live with him, and depend upon him.

But that's the great irony of the RDR Lonesome Cowboy, right? Arthur feels lonely and believes he is alone because he is a "bad man" and nonbeliever whom "no one will have" (not even God, and he remains true to his atheism through the bitter end [and thank god for that honestly because the last thing I needed was a Come to Jesus cowboy game...]).

But the inverse is true, and his depression is lying to him; Arthur is almost never alone and pretty much everyone in his family unit actively enjoys his company and wants him around. And yes, many of these people are damaged and have trouble communicating that (though fewer than you'd think). And no, it isn't the same as getting married to one person and raising a family with them for the rest of your life. But lonesome? As in, emotionally and/or physically alone?

Nah! Come on, man! Not even close.

Arthur is more than just loved and needed: he's actually understood by those he chooses to let in, because Arthur is definitely capable of telling his closest confidants how he feels and what is lurking in his heart. We see him do this many times. Sometimes with surprising ease and honesty.

When Arthur is physically alone in RDR2, he's wandering at the player's command, and if he wanders for too long, he's eventually retrieved & lambasted by the people at camp who quite openly/forcefully tell him they missed him and worried about him. Even Low Honor Arthur is a popular man at camp, in his own way, the support beam of his strange family (though LH Arthur is more likely to selectively deny that support, or to provide that support with the caveat of verbal cruelty).

A messy run-down of some obvious examples to illustrate my point:

Despite Dutch's deterioration and manipulations, Dutch and Hosea openly dote on him and relish telling embarrassing family stories about their Big Man Old Guard son to each other. Hosea especially frets about and tries to care for Arthur, mostly physically but sometimes emotionally as well. Susan can be abrasive at best, but she also clearly favors Arthur, thinks often about his well-being, and is one of the primary worriers when he's away from camp for too long.

Abigail and Jack completely rely on Arthur for a significant period of their lives, and though Abigail struggles greatly with showing affection & vulnerability, I would argue her primary and most extraordinary mode of care and affection for Arthur is allowing him to help her raise her son. Sure, she needs the help... but Arthur needs the nuclear family experience of being heavily relied on, too, and Abigail makes it clear she understands that about him better than anybody else. (I'd go on to argue that being relied on in a family way is essential for Arthur's self-esteem and is how he can continue to function despite the massive clash between his true nature and his violent lifestyle, for which he constantly berates himself. But that's neither here nor there...)

The Girls (Tilly, Mary-Beth, Karen) actively worry about his mental health and invite him to share his burdens with them, comfort him (each in their own unique way), play games, dance, etc. They do this for Arthur we don't see them do for anyone else in camp (apart from each other, which leads me to believe Arthur is sort of an honorary member of The Girls, though I won't get too much into that here).

Sadie: "Aside from my [BELOVED HUSBAND AND SOUL MATE] Jake, you're the best man I've known."

Though Arthur seems more likely to trust & befriend women/non-masc men, he has masc men friends & confidants too, and most of the men at camp seem to rank Arthur as somehow more reliable than other members. Charles very obviously loves Arthur & vice versa to the point where I tried to pick one demonstrative example and couldn't figure out where to begin. Uncle is a pain in Arthur's ass, but when shit hits the fan, he knows (and tells him) that Arthur is the best man of them all. Lenny, while young, enjoys Arthur's company (though I would argue Arthur feels more strongly about Lenny than the inverse due to Arthur's tendency to protectively fuss over young people). Hell, Sean constantly tells Arthur, word for word, "I love ya, Arthur Morgan!!! I really do!!! I love ya!!!!" He's being goofy, but he's not joking! He said that!

And that's just a surface-level sampling of gang members. These threads run much, much deeper and we could spend essays analyzing each one, but my god this has gone on too long already.

One could argue that Arthur's story aloneness is at the moment of his death, but I can't quite agree. With Save John + High Honor Arthur path especially, I would argue Arthur has never been less emotionally (even spiritually) alone than when he chose to change the very nature of his death from a random consequence of his hard life to an act of love that gives his surviving core family (John, Abigail, Jack) a chance at happiness. In less peaceful endgame scenarios, Arthur might not actually die alone, or even have time to linger on his approaching departure from the world.

So I posit that Arthur is not, was never the Lonesome Cowboy. Arthur is loved as much as he loves others.

I posit that the true Lonesome Cowboy of RDR is John.

John Marston, who on the surface has everything Arthur ever wanted... but who, due to the nature of his heart and what he's seen, cannot bring himself to fully open up in a way that enables him to be truly understood and embraced by anyone, not even the person he comes to love most in the world (Abigail). There's a reason the epilogue feels so shocking and lonely, and while I do think Rockstar could have done a better job on the transitional cinematics from playing as Arthur to playing as John, that crushing loneliness and sense of discomfort and incompleteness is vital.

It feels awful. It feels like we just lost a limb and were thrown back into everyday life with no fanfare, no true honorable sendoff, no closure, no greater understanding of the world, no peace or contentment. And it feels that way because that discordant, jarring dis-allowance of grief is the ONLY mechanism that helps us feel how John must feel now. Because unlike Arthur, John cannot express or unfold or understand his own pain and loneliness. Not to us, the player, and not even to himself. He never grieves.

Of course, when Sadie and Micah drift back into his life, John snaps. He's never grieved! He's been emotionally alone through all of that, even when he has his family and friends, because he can't open up and let them in! He risks destroying his family in a way that would have undoubtedly caused Arthur extreme horror and anger because John's family is not and has never been a cure for John's loneliness, even though John truly loves them more than anything at the end.

John can't express it, so it's these lyrics themselves that serve as the fount of his grief: I ain't got no brother. No wonder Abigail has her own quiet epilogue rendition of this song (and she, too, is a profoundly Lonesome Cowboy in her way, just like Karen, Hosea, Javier, Jack, etc....). Once Arthur is gone from the world, so too is the only person who knew this deeply damaged kid well enough from his wild childhood to really even hope to see into John's heart.

tl;dr: Arthur thinks he's the legendary Lonesome Cowboy, but he's not. He's just lonely, not alone. In reality, the character who is fundamentally alone, truly lonesome, has always been John.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption #john marston #arthur morgan #redmeta #long long long long post

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cowboyfromh3ll · 1 year ago

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Charles smith is usually a very quiet, reserved man. But when he hears Micah insult fem!reader (Whom charles is sweet on) for rejecting his advances, the reader pushes him away, which he responded with slapping her hard enough for her to fall down.

Charles couldn't help himself, and he tackled Micah and would have beat him to death if Arthur and John didn't pull him on.

Afterwards, after his adrenaline seems to wear off, he starts to feel pain in his knuckles. The reader pulls him aside to set his broken knuckle back into place and to wrap his hand up. She thanks him with a kiss :) fluffy, angsty, the works <3

Million Dollar Man

(Charles Smith x Fem!Reader)

This was so cute. I love my followers' reqs. Also I have a near identical request after this which is kinda freaky but they are literally asking for the exact same thing and idk how to do a different spin on this so this will be for both of y'all anons whoever you are.

Warnings: Man on woman violence, then man on man

There was something about the vulgarity of a man that made you all the more appalled with them. Often when Micah would be near you, you’d have to swallow hard in fear that you might abruptly throw up on your shoes. There was nothing appealing about the man. Whenever he spoke to you, you would’ve liked to wring his neck for disturbing your peace. And his tepid attempts at flirting were described as otherwise laughable. His initial advances were turned down politely, not something you wanted to make a big deal out of. But he was consistent, so much so that your patience began to wear down with him.

You once giggled and waved your hand dismissively, repeating reluctant no’s over and over until Micah finally got tired and left you alone. It seemed to be a ticking time bomb though, because the next time he approached you his advances would increase tenfold. Walking around freely in camp felt like walking on eggshells, and you’d often have to duck behind someone anytime you heard the familiar raspy, drawl of Micah. Your polite refusals slowly transformed into you demanding he leave you alone, hoping and praying that one of the men in camp would come over and help you get rid of him. Occasionally it’d get as bad as Micah calling you a whore, before throwing a flurry of other insults at you and storming off angrily. It was times like these you wished you were a man, so you could possess the same mass as one to hopefully beat the hell out of Micah. But your limber body provided no such abilities.

“C’mon sweetheart, just let me take you on one date.” He invited himself over to your tent, leaning on the wagon situated behind it with crossed arms, eyeing you uncomfortably. You were sitting there with Mary-Beth, who was just as uncomfortable, and frankly scared, as you were. She offered you a sympathetic look, mouthing a “sorry” to you before averting her gaze back to her sewing.

“Micah, for the last time, leave me alone already. I said no.” You were firm in your inflection, your body rigid and shaking out of irritation and fear. As much as you hated the man, he also intimidated you. You knew how violent he could get, and the fact remained in the back of your mind always.

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on.” He insisted, chuckling afterwards in a way that made you swallow a gag of disgust. His attempts at having a sugar sweet laugh that could seduce you were fruitless, sounding instead like the metallic screech of a train braking.

“I could show you a real good time…” He added.

You stood at once, gathering your things to move elsewhere in camp and bidding Mary-Beth a silent farewell. You bunched your fabrics and sewing materials against your lap, moving to walk away until you felt Micah clamp his hand down on your upper arm. You tried to push him off but he was using all his strength.

“You ain’t going nowhere.”

“Micah, you're hurting me.” You warned him, your voice inflected with actual fear. It wasn’t so much the pain but the act of him holding onto you that felt so awful, the knowledge that he was the one in control of the situation. You weren’t sure, despite his violent streak, if he’d actually hit you right now. But he definitely wasn’t opposed to using applied force.

“This is the last time you say no to me, you hear?!” He yanked you towards him by the arm, looking to Mary-Beth, who had already gone up and left to retrieve someone for help. When your chest met his, you dropped your materials and instinctively put up your arm between the two of you, your elbow acting as a protective barrier. You shoved as hard as you could, just barely managing to push him off of you.

“Let me go you fucking creep!”

Before you could even register him stepping forward, he delivered a heavy slap to your face. Your body jerked to one side from the force of the slap causing you to fall on your hip. You raised your elbow once again to protect yourself from the fall, promptly moving to cup your stinging cheek. You were seething at this point.

“What the fuck?!” Your voice trembled in your rage, squeezing your eyes hard with each blink so as to not allow tears to escape. You dare not look up at him again in fear, only staring at the ground beneath you. You hoped to god people from around camp had noticed by now.

God himself seemed to have answered your prayers, because not a second later you turned to see Micah tackled by Charles. With a guttural yell, he pinned Micah down to the floor, swinging his fists at him with his full force. You weren’t sure of the force intended by Charles, but the impact of his fists alone caused Micah’s flesh to lacerate, forming raw gashes that began to bleed in seconds. Charles’ anger was near animalistic, seeing red and blinded by rage as he continued to strike Micah’s face, who was helplessly clawing at him in an attempt to get him off. You’re sure he would’ve killed him, if not for the fact that Arthur and John had to pry him off. You hadn’t even registered the horrified screams of people around camp, some even clicking their tongues and slyly commenting that Micah was asking for it.

You felt two gentle hands lift you up, presumably Miss Grimshaw, who was frantically asking you if you were alright. You whispered out a yes, the stinging of your cheek reduced to a throbbing warmth. No one offered Micah any help in getting up; everyone was far too focused on getting Charles’ to calm down so he wouldn’t charge him again.

Once the dust settled, you insisted you were fine and walked past Miss Grimshaw, approaching Charles who still seemed to be grappling with his anger and keeping it in check. In unison, the two of you looked at eachother and asked, “Are you okay?”

The two of you stared at each other, and you felt a small laugh bubble up in you at the coincidence, Though your amusement was replaced by horror when you looked down at Charles’ left fist, which was swollen and bruised.

“Oh my god!” You cried, moving to cradle his hand but promptly retracting your own when you heard him hiss. “Your hand! It’s broken!” You looked back up at him in concern, feeling the heavy weight of guilt settle within you like a boulder thrown into a lake before sinking to the waterbed. He shook his head, wincing as the pain became more prominent as his adrenaline wore off.

“Don’t worry about me. Are you okay? Micah hit you pretty hard… I…” Charles pursed his lips at the very mention of his name, having to suck in a deep breath before he looked back at you. You shook your head, grabbing Charles’ arm and leading him to your tent.

“I’m fine! But we need to tend to your hand asap.” You sat him on a crate just outside your tent, briefly venturing inside before remerging with some bandages you had sourced from your satchel. You sat before him on your knees, taking his massive hand into your own. You felt your heart swell in tenderness for him, wanting to throw yourself on him as an embrace to thank him for the valiant act.

“You didn’t have to do that…” You began carefully coiling the bandages around his knuckles, looking back up at his face occasionally to spot any signs of pain you might be causing.

“He had it coming anyways. It was bound to happen. But I’m sorry it had to happen this way.” He motioned to your cheek once again, which was still a flush red. You were sure it would bruise, but you tried not to think about it. As you tightened the bandages around his fist, he hissed, his body jerking slightly.

“I’m sorry…” You stilled your ministrations, looking up at him with a pout.

“No it’s okay… Thank you. This means a lot. And it was worth it to defend you from the scum bag Micah.” He smiled warmly at you in a way that made you giddy.

“Well.. thank you for that. It was actually quite satisfying to see.” You admitted with a sly smile, breaking into laughter.

“Anytime, I mean it. Anytime.”

You finished wrapping his knuckle up, planting a gentle kiss on it to finish your care off; a bold act that left you internally panicking. But he found it rather cute, and continued to hold your hand as he moved to stand.

The final act of your boldness would be you leaning forward and landing a kiss on Charles’ lips, leaving him standing there in bewilderment and pleasant surprise.

“Thank you, again.” You cooed, your face burning up and blending in with the shade of your already red cheek. In the morning, your cheek would ache with the memory of the pain inflicted on you, but your heart would swell in remembrance of your salvation.

Million Dollar Man - Lana Del Rey

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 x reader #van der linde gang x reader #writing #red dead fanfiction #charles smith #charles smith x reader fluff #charles smith x reader #Charles smith fluff #micah being an ass #micah bell

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oneknightstand-if · 4 months ago

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I'm 100% sure that the saboteur is either Percy, Broderick or Gwyneth. Here's my nonsensical analysis based on nothing but my gut feeling

Percy - pretty sure everyone suspects him

Broderick - someone this normal in a royally abnormal group is suspicious. His cover that he considers everyone weird and wants to leave is good at first glance but then why won't he just leave then? Merlin only kidnaps Mc because of Adrain, no one's holding Broderick

Gwyneth - you never should underestimate the characters who seem way too sweet to be the traitor

As for the rest of the ROs, Merlin and Arthur are way to iconic and poignant characters without whom the group's success seems flimsy. Vivian and 404 make no sense in the role of a saboteur. Lorelei and Adrian have the most trustworthy vibes ever. As for Cassandra, she's a cop, her being a saboteur would royally mess up the group's plans and ability to freely traverse the land, all she needs to do is mess with the evidence and declare the group as "very dangerous criminals who should be shot on sight" and broadcast their faces on TV (plot twist, it's Cassandra)

Broderick:

Adrian: I agree, the saboteur is Broderick. Vote him off the RV!

All I'll says is there's a reason Broderick's the last one scheduled to show up. If you're the first one and being a pain while Merlin is scrambling to reach the other Harbingers before they get Midnight Maulered, then they'll leave your pain-in-the-ass behind.

If you're the last one with everyone else already safely gathered, then they've got time to do some stalking!

#oks-asks #oks-Broderick #oks-Adrian #oks-Saboteur #oks-ROs

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the-pen-pot · 7 months ago

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'The druids mentioned a Quercetum is ailing: a blight of some kind.' 'Sounds painful,' Gwaine said from where he and Elyan rode behind them, the tack jingling in rhythm to the horses' steady pace. 'Do they need an ointment or something?' Merlin snorted. 'A Quercetum is a grove of oak trees. I don't think one of Gaius' creams will do much good. It needs me and Arthur to set things right.' ------ When Arthur assists Merlin in a magical ritual, he realises just how much could truly be his, if he only had the courage to ask for it.

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Of Root and Sea and Sky

Arthur Pendragon watched the man who rode the pretty bay mare at his side, his seat confident and steady after years in the saddle. Merlin sat straight and at ease, his clothes suitable for travel but far more fine than his baggy servant things. A dark coat of soft leather fit across his shoulders, showing off his narrow frame and the subtle strength that lay within it. The blue tunic beneath, Arthur had noticed as they departed that morning, matched his eyes. Tight breeches clad his thighs, no longer threadbare at the knees and hems, but sturdy and perfectly tailored.

The sight had a detrimental effect on Arthur's composure, and he'd had to tear his gaze away more than once since they'd set out from the citadel.

'Where are we going?' he asked, proud that he managed to keep his voice steady. Now was not the time to be caught mooning over Merlin. He could not tell when the unfortunate admiration had begun; only that it had been years. It had grown since their first meeting, unacknowledged as they seemed to careen from one calamity to the next. It was something Arthur had learned to live with: not just the lust that glowed in the pit of his belly, but the love that threatened to bloom in the caverns of his heart.

He was fortunate to call Merlin his friend. He had resigned himself, long ago, to the realisation that anything more was nothing but a fantasy.

'The druids mentioned a Quercetum is ailing: a blight of some kind.'

'Sounds painful,' Gwaine said from where he and Elyan rode behind them, the tack jingling in rhythm to the horses' steady pace. 'Do they need an ointment or something?'

Merlin snorted. 'A Quercetum is a grove of oak trees. I don't think one of Gaius' creams will do much good. It needs me and Arthur to set things right.'

That, at least, Arthur understood. After his father had succumbed to a blade in battle and Arthur became king, Merlin had spent long evenings drinking wine with him in front of the fire and explaining the ancient connection between the throne, the magic and the land itself. They sustained each other, the rule of a kingdom going far deeper than the crown upon someone's brow.

In the days before the Purge, magic had been an integral part of every realm in Albion. A mere twenty-five years without it had sent many lands plunging into poverty and conflict. The earth withered, and the corruption his father had railed against found a home in the hearts of ruthless men.

Slowly, that damage was starting to heal, and it was something that could only be achieved by a ruler who took his vows seriously and a sorcerer who used his power well.

One of his first acts as king was to overturn Uther's laws. He had done it for the good of his kingdom, of course, but if he were honest, there had been more pressing, personal reasons to make it legal once more. He cast aside tyranny for Morgana and Merlin, neither of whom deserved to live in fear.

He still remembered, sometimes, how pale they had been when they confessed to him – terrified. In that moment, Arthur's character had been tested. The balance could have gone either way. He could have fallen back on everything his father had told him, leaning into the safe foundation of prejudice, or he could have tipped forward into a future of possibility, one that led his realm into a golden age as the wounds of the past began to fade.

To his shame, it had not been an easy choice, but in the end, he had placed himself firmly on the side of sorcery. Now, more than a year later, Camelot flourished with a new kind of peace.

'Anything we should know?' Elyan asked, raising his voice to be heard as they left the road, guiding the horses through last year's leaf-litter. It rustled as they picked their way through the boles of the trees, following Merlin's lead.

'Not really. It shouldn't take long, but these are holy places to the druids. Swords should be set down outside the edge of the grove. There's a good chance the magic will hide us from your line of sight. Don't interfere. Not unless I call for you, or you'll throw the whole thing off and we'll have to start again.'

Arthur hid a smile to hear the calm authority in Merlin's voice. It shouldn't surprise him. Even as a servant he'd had a way of speaking sometimes that gave others no choice but to listen. Now, with magic legal once more and its study permitted, Merlin only grew stronger and more knowledgeable of his abilities.

And with each passing day, Arthur found it easier to accept the druids' claims. He looked at Merlin and could well believe it when they said that he was the strongest warlock to walk the earth – and the nearest thing the magical community had to a king of their own.

And Merlin was his: his court sorcerer and his closest friend. Perhaps that was why Arthur had not spoken of the way he felt. One by one, so many of his excuses had fallen away, revealing the fear that lay at the heart of his silence. In truth, he had far too much to lose, and so he held his tongue and let his longing flourish unheeded.

A huff from Hengroen broke into his thoughts, and Arthur frowned, focusing once more on their surroundings. At first, he could not understand what had made his gelding tense, but before long he noticed the smell in the air: sweet, dry rot and arid earth. It was out of place in the lush, flourishing woods, tickling at the back of his throat and stirring some prickling, instinctive awareness to life. He was not like Merlin. He could not tap into the living world all around him and hear its hum, but he could detect that something was amiss. His kingdom bore a wound, and he could not leave it to fester.

'Gods.' Gwaine's curse was low and sympathetic as they brought their horses to a halt, staring. The oaks stood in a cluster, occupying a broad clearing amidst the more slender pines. Yet where Arthur would have expected to see tender young leaves, there were instead withered branches. Strong trunks were bleached bone-white except for where dark blisters pocked the bark, and more than one large branch had fallen from the stark canopy to lie, twisted and ruined, upon the ground.

'What happened?' Elyan breathed, sounding devastated. 'What could do this?'

'That's what we're here to find out,' Merlin promised. 'You two stay here. Arthur and I will need to be in the middle of the trees to work out what's caused this and set it right.'

'Be careful. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.'

Arthur threw a glare in Gwaine's direction, but it softened the moment he got a look at his face. There was no customary leer, and the joking tone in his voice had fallen flat, dragged down by his concern. He and Elyan were more lax with protocol than Leon, but they still took their duties seriously. While they may understand that they needed to keep watch from a distance, that didn't mean they were comfortable having either Arthur or Merlin out of their sight.

'We'll be all right,' he promised as he slipped out of the saddle, the leaves rustling under his boots as he unstrapped his scabbard and set his sword aside. 'Merlin knows what he's doing.'

'Course he does,' Gwaine replied, all unapologetic confidence as he dismounted, stopping at Arthur's side and lowering his voice. 'He'll blast anyone who tries to harm a hair on your head. Just – Be careful, yeah? Watch his back?'

Arthur clapped a hand on Gwaine's shoulder. 'Always.'

Elyan took Hengroen's reins, promising to tend the horses as Merlin jerked his chin towards the grove: a wordless invitation. Each rustling footstep left the knights further behind, their weapons drawn and at rest, ready to fight any danger that made itself known.

'They'll be all right,' Merlin murmured, resting his palm against one of the ailing oaks.

'The trees?'

'No. Well, yes. I meant Gwaine and Elyan.'

'There's plenty of dangers that lurk in the woods,' Arthur pointed out.

'But nothing they can't handle. Besides, I put a up a ward as soon as we entered the forest. It covers more than a mile. If anything crosses it meaning us harm, we'll know about it.'

Arthur's heart fluttered, and he stepped closer, bumping his shoulders and grinning as Merlin nudged him back. He shouldn't be surprised about the wards. Merlin had been feral about protecting the people he called his friends, right from the start. These days, he made sure they were safe without apology, weaving stunning magic as if it were as easy as breathing, and it warmed Arthur through from soul to skin.

'So, what exactly are we doing?' he asked, peering up at the sad remnants of the trees. 'Can you really fix this?'

Merlin's long fingers grabbed the sleeve of Arthur's jacket, tugging him towards the centre of the grove. 'Remember what I said about how, once, rulers of their kingdoms were tied to the land? How they can act as conduits?'

Arthur suspected he knew where this was going. 'You plan to use me in the spell, don't you?'

'Not... exactly.'

Merlin stopped, turning to face him, and in his expression, there were subtle hints of that same old pain that had come to the fore whenever Arthur, in his uncertain past, had twitched away from Merlin's magic. It had happened more often than he'd like to admit, back when he had first confessed. His father's teachings were hard to shake, and Arthur had needed time to learn there was nothing to fear. Not when it was Merlin who wielded the power.

'If I can pour the spell into the land through you, it will have more strength and precision. This' – He gestured at the trees around them – 'is caused by a corruption in the natural magic of the earth. I can cleanse it without you, probably. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. It's just that it would be easier if –'

'Merlin.' Arthur reached out, grabbing his hands and holding on, bringing the rush of words to a halt. He wished he could ease those scars of uncertainty that lingered still, not in his own heart, but in Merlin's. He had spent far too much of his life hiding what he was. Too many years had passed where he had heard, time and again, that magic was something monstrous, and Arthur hated to see him apologising for what he could do. As if his power was a curse, rather than a blessing. 'Of course I'll help you. Just tell me what I need to do.'

Merlin's grin was bright and infectious, showing his dimples and making his eyes gleam, yet he still gave Arthur a probing sort of look. 'Are you sure? I mean it. There are other ways.'

'You're the one who has been harping on at me about how king and kingdom are connected. Besides, I want to help.' He looked at the trees, stark and suffering, and saw nothing more than a cry for mercy.

Perhaps they were not important to the people within Camelot's walls, but there was more to his realm than the souls sheltered in the citadel. The druids had started to creep back in, tremulous and uncertain, but with growing confidence. This was their land, too, and he would not deprive them of assistance simply because of his father's old prejudices. 'You said this was a sacred place. Why? What makes it special?'

Merlin looked up at the window of blue sky above them, criss-crossed by the bare, skeletal branches. 'Oak is supposed to have a lot of magical properties. Different groves have different qualities. Some are meant to imbue strength to those who seek shelter beneath their boughs. Others offer wisdom. This one is a Sōþfæstnes.'' The word rolled of his tongue, comforting to Arthur's ear for all that he didn't understand it. 'A place of honesty. The druids use them for ceremonies and meetings. They believe you can't utter a lie when in one of these. They're used for handfastings, too, so that people know the vows are genuine.'

'Are they right?' Arthur was still not sure where the druids and magic came together. There was a whole system of belief that he knew very little about. It was part of the reason Merlin kept reminding him that he was not a druid himself. He had power, but not the culture that the druids valued so highly.

'I don't know.' Merlin shrugged. 'In a way, I don't think it matters. The druids believe it's important, so it's worth fixing. Besides, it would be a shame to see these trees die.'

That, Arthur could agree with: on both counts. 'Where do you need me?'

He watched as Merlin closed his eyes, his body falling motionless as a sudden, playful wind swirled the leaves around them. Arthur did not know what he was looking for, but it seemed he found it as he reached for Arthur again, guiding him to a spot that looked like any other. 'Hold my hands, and relax. This might feel a bit strange, but it won't hurt you. If you want me to stop, just say.'

That last part was added in a firmer tone, as if Merlin knew full well that Arthur wouldn't back down, even if his instincts were screaming at him to retreat. It was enough to make Arthur shoot a quick, imperious look in his direction, trying to hide the flutter of trepidation that stirred deep in his gut.

He'd seen Merlin perform magic before. He had stood on the periphery as he wrought his enchantments, revelling in the warm-sunlight sensation. Yet despite all his talk about the importance of the realm's ruler to the balance, Merlin had never invited him to be a participant. He'd always worked alone.

Now, as he watched those blue eyes flare bright, brazen gold, Arthur felt a new world open up within him. It started softly, like the breath of a summer breeze, gradually filling his senses. He could hear the steady hum of life throughout the woods; could sense the birds on swift wing or taking their perch, the dart of deer and the slippery chill of water as it seeped through the roots. The rich, heady perfume in the air intensified, and he could feel the pull and ebb of sap across his skin, sticky and vibrant.

Yet there was more. Hidden within those details there was a sense of something vast and ageless: a slow, steady beat like the pulse of the earth itself, resonating up through the bones of the world. Magic flowed there, pooling and diverging, collecting in knots only to disperse once more: an eternal lightning storm miles beneath his feet.

Yet where they stood, the light had turned thin and frail, its thick branches ebbing to threads as it choked and stuttered. Here, the magic had fallen out of balance. Arthur could feel how it threatened to drain away entirely. It had retreated deep, deep down, leaving the oak trees withered husks of their former selves.

'Ready?' Merlin asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

Arthur focused on the man before him. Seeing the world through the lens of magic, Merlin was like the sun, so bright his outline was almost lost. Yet Arthur could feel his heat and life: the warmth of a hearth and the cold splash of water on a sweltering day. He was helpless to do anything but shift closer, pressing near to the interface of that power as if he had been starved for it since the day he was born.

'Ready,' he managed, his voice little more than a rasp that faded to nothing as all that light poured through him and into the earth beneath his feet.

He had expected it to feel overwhelming, a surging tide threatening to eradicate every facet of his being. He had anticipated a struggle to contain it and feared being lost in its surge. He had never thought it could be like this: soft and brimming with love.

It did not smash through him, but whispered down his thighs and filled his chest with its glow. It rushed down to his feet and stirred the fine hairs on his arms into shivering awareness. Each breath tasted sweet, and as the magic reached out through him, he felt the tattered remnants of it in the earth stretch back, curving towards him like seedlings seeking the sun.

He watched them, not with his eyes, which had slipped shut in pleasure as Merlin's power filled him to the brim. Instead, it was as if it were the essence of himself that observed the world. Something deeper than skin and bone, intimately connected in ways he had never imagined. He bore witness to the magic's struggles to thrive once more, and he urged it on with the race of his heart and the mute cries of his being. He lost his breath, somewhere in the tumult of it all, until he felt that his own fate had aligned with the oak trees around him – that in this moment he would triumph or perish, and one was just as likely as the other.

And then, a single strand, as delicate as spider-silk, brushed against the plunging roots, and power surged up through the earth.

Arthur reeled as it exploded through him, his grip tightening fretfully around Merlin's hands. Yet there was no pain. It was euphoria and ecstasy: heat in his blood and the pit of his belly. Every part of him felt alive, tingling and pulsing as the darkness was washed away. It was like sunlight after the longest night, chasing off the shadows and bringing the warm touch of life in its wake.

Distantly, he heard the trees creak, their bark swelling as sap moved once more, sluggish at first, and then with growing urgency. The ground beneath his feet shifted as the roots shook of their rot, and overhead there was an ongoing susurrus as the magic rushed across the bare branches, doing the work of a season in a moment to shade them with a canopy of emerald green.

Yet there was something tenuous about it, and Arthur drew in a shuddering breath as he felt what he had to do. Merlin had provided the power. He had poured it through Arthur's skin and bones and blood, but it was up to him to anchor it in place. Without him, while the grove may not die, it would always struggle to thrive. The land would bear the scar, but with Arthur's influence, it could be healed in its entirety.

His lips parted, a question trembling on the tip of his tongue, but he did not need to speak a word. Merlin's magic was like his hands, strong and capable. It ran up his arms and curved around his shoulder, cupped his jaw and rested over his heart. And with it, silent but sure, came the knowledge of what he needed to do.

There was no incantation to utter – no grand spell to tie everything in place. Through the oaths he had taken and the crown he wore, he and the kingdom were one. All he had to do was accept the magic, and the land would welcome it in turn.

Once, it would have been impossible. Fear had been his foundation, and his father's words were nothing less than poison dripped in his ear. All his life, he had been told of the evils of sorcery, and yet, thanks to Merlin and Morgana, he knew his beliefs were flawed.

Morgana had been the one to show him the human face of sorcery – to bring the issue closer to home in a way Arthur had always secretly feared, but it was the man in front of him who had taken the time to teach him. He had shown Arthur that, in the right hands, magic was a gift. He had challenged his belief that it corrupted those who wielded it, because if there was anyone who Arthur truly believed was incorruptible, it was Merlin himself.

Yet it was also by his gentle explanations that Arthur came to understand that magic was far more than a mere tool. It was a natural force, like the winds or the tides: an essential part of the world that Uther had sought to strip away. To decry its nature was like shouting at clouds, utterly pointless.

And it was thanks to that quiet tutelage – to long nights in front of the fire and Merlin's steady, low voice explaining everything – that he was able to peel aside the lingering veils of his doubts and open himself to the power seeking admittance.

It was... indescribable. A falling star blazing through him, threatening to burn him up even as it chased off every last shadow. Each breath felt painfully inadequate, as if nothing as simple as air could keep him alive. His head spun and his muscles shook, his blood surging as his heart hammered fit to burst, driven wild with elation.

For one, fragile moment, he could feel his kingdom within him. Its rivers were his veins, its mountains his ribs and the valleys the spaces in between. He could sense the blaze of life and the tender cradle of death as existence unfurled through him, and he revelled and mourned in equal measure.

At last, when he thought he could bear it no more, the frothing tide began to recede, draining from him with a lingering caress that stalled the breath in his lungs. Every inch of his skin felt hot and aware, his flesh too tight across his bones. He came back to himself in increments, no longer standing toe-to-toe with Merlin, but slumped in his arms, that surprisingly broad chest holding him up as he sagged against him. His nose was buried in the hollow under Merlin's jaw, and one hand smoothed up and down his spine, coaxing him through it.

'You with me?' Merlin asked, his voice deep and rough. 'Sorry. I should have warned you it's a bit intense.'

Arthur managed a huff of agreement. He felt wonderfully drunk, warm and care-free. His senses echoed and blurred, so that for a moment he was able to enjoy the feeling of the sun on leaves he didn't have and the rich, dark earth between his roots. Gradually, even that dimmed from his awareness, binding him once more in the constraints of his human frame.

Yet there, on the very edge of his hearing, no louder than a breath of a breeze, there was a voice, soft and musical, whispering in his ear.

A truth, our dearest King, in thanks for what you have done for us: he guards his heart well, but he would be yours, if you would have him. He loves you, as you love him.

Arthur blinked, barely daring to believe his ears. At any other time, he might have written it off as the cries of his stupid, desperate heart, but Merlin himself had said that this stand of trees was a place for honesty: one where the truth found its way into the light.

'Arthur? Are you all right?' Merlin's hand was gentle as he cupped his jaw, lifting his chin so that he could look into his eyes.

He swallowed, feeling shockingly naked beneath the weight of Merlin's gaze. There, caught up in that bottomless blue, was everything he had never dared to acknowledge: tenderness, concern and a deep, abiding well of emotion that Arthur felt in kind.

He could feel the pressure of his choice before him – a split path that his life could take. On the one hand, he could retreat back to known territory: the realm of friendship, hard won and deeply cherished. Yet at the end of that road, he could see the end of them. One day the court would force him to claim a queen, and it would be duty, rather than distance, that steadily eroded what lay between him and Merlin.

Or, in this precious moment, he could reach for what he wanted: a life together and a love shared. Something he had thought impossible and still barely dared to hope for.

'Arthur?'

'I'm okay.' He flexed his grip where it was caught in the leather coat, the hide smooth like butter beneath his touch. 'I – I –' His voice hitched, tangled in the briar of his uncertainty. His courage – so dependable on a battlefield – threatened to abandon him, and he swallowed hard, pursing his lips. 'I'm okay.'

'What did you hear?'

He blinked, his gaze darting back to Merlin's in surprise. His hand still cradled Arthur's cheek, soft and careful, as if he were something precious. His body was a firm stretch of heat all down Arthur's front, and his heart thrummed, crying out for more.

After a breathless eternity of indecision, Arthur reached up, grasping Merlin's wrist. He turned his face to brush a kiss – butterfly-light, tremulous and desperate – against his palm. Merlin deserved so much more, and yet in that moment, it was all Arthur dared to offer him.

He heard the quiet gasp stutter past Merlin's lips, but he did not dare look at him. It felt as if he were awaiting judgement, the ecstasy of freedom or the horror of execution. He braced himself for Merlin to make his retreat, excuses on the tip of his tongue.

Instead, Merlin's free hand splayed across the small of Arthur's back, urging him close until they were nose-to-nose, their shared breath whispering between them. His voice was little more than a cracked murmur, laced with raw desperation as he repeated his question. 'What did you hear, Arthur?'

He shivered from head to foot, lost beneath his own, inevitable surrender. 'That you love me,' he managed, swallowing hard as he dredged up the words and laid himself bare. 'That you love me as I love you.'

The kiss scorched him, Merlin's mouth hot over his own as every inch of him sparked to life. It was no sweet, chaste brush of lips, yet nor was it restrained to wanton desire. There was devotion writ in the pressure of Merlin's lips and the stroke of his tongue. It was engraved in the strength of his arm around Arthur's waist, and he surrendered himself to it, clutching Merlin to him. Want and need, love and desire all battled for the upper hand, and Arthur was lost all over again, not to magic, but to Merlin.

He kissed him as if he would die without it. One hand gripped gently in that dark hair, the other crept beneath his jacket to clutch at his tunic, eager and desperate, fearful even now that this was some sort of figment that would vanish with the morning light, as so many of his dreams had done in the past. Yet not such cruel twist of fate found them. Instead, they kissed until they were breathless with it, shaking in each other's arms as years' worth of emotion finally revealed itself.

The only thing that stopped him from rutting himself blind against Merlin's thigh, right there in a grove of sacred oak trees, was the knowledge that Gwaine and Elyan were waiting for them back at the horses. It would only be so long before their knights came looking. As it was, while they might not get an eyeful, they would still find them both flushed, their mouths swollen and their clothes in disarray.

A regretful groan caught in his throat as he eased off, his kisses turning shallow and scattered. Try as he might, he could not pull himself away, and he stayed there, safe in the circle of Merlin's arms as they rested their brows together.

'Clotpole,' Merlin breathed, sounding unbearably fond. 'How could you not know I love you too?'

'You never said anything,' Arthur pointed out, deciding he had to defend himself, at least in that respect. 'You're never normally shy about telling the world how you feel.'

'It took you four years to acknowledge we were friends,' Merlin replied. 'I thought anything else might make you break out in hives.' He grinned, that bright, dazzling smile that Arthur loved so much. A moment later it softened, and Arthur looked into that face and wondered how he could possibly have missed it. Merlin's heart was right there for the taking: Arthur's, if he wanted it.

And he did.

Easing back, he held out his hand, feeling as if he were asking so much more as one word slipped free of him. 'Home?'

Merlin's blue eyes sparkled as if he had heard everything Arthur didn't say. The promises he made and the hopes he carried in his raw and bloody heart. Yet he did not hesitate or turn away. He met Arthur head on, unflinching, as if nothing could stop him seizing the future before them.

Those long fingers brushed against his palm before entwining with his own, and in his answer, there was the subtle glimmer of a promise. 'Home.'

As they departed, shoulder-to-shoulder and hand-in-hand, the trees ruffled their leaves and whispered their truths. One day soon, the two men would return, and there beneath the bower they would be hand-fasted to one another, their devotion absolute. Camelot would have no queen, but two kings to rule side-by-side in quiet triumph and eternal love.

And never would it falter.

#Merlin #Merthur #My fanfic

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dark-elf-writes · 8 months ago

Note

Tenya watches as his parents discuss assets and boons. Tenya who sees them looking at Harry and Teddy (who are his and whom he loves so much) and knows that the people who should love him yet left him behind don’t see two amazing people. Tenya who stands up and seriously tells them that no, Harry and Teddy won’t be paraded about by the media. No he won’t request they ‘show off’ Teddy’s ‘early Quirk’.

Harry fighting for his soulmate and his friends, fierce and deadly because he can’t lose anyone else. Who screams at Stain that he’s ’nothing more than another villain with empty promises who wants pain’. Their first kiss (Tenya and Harry) being in a hospital as baby Teddy cries because ‘Pap’ is hurt. (His first word was dada and it was Harry. Pap, papa, his second, is for Tenya and oh lord does it make them sob).

Izuku and Ginny trading letters and stories. Ginny coming to UA to finish her schooling because her mark is black and everyone knows. Luna following, Hermione and Ron a step behind. Luna who smiles at the dual haired teen whose mark shines like hers. George coming to, tired, tired, tired. But he slowly smiles again. Molly and Arthur, Percy, Bill, Charlie (all tired and seeing that little is changing. That no one wants to do more then get rid of the laws Voldemort put up. Who see Kingsley frown in anger and can’t do anything) all packing up to move.

They burned and got nothing. Screw England.

(Percy’s mark shines around a man with scars who glares and sneers but who also left his family behind once. Percy isn’t the same as him but he understands feeling as if his family has let him down over and over again.

It’s funny in a way how many marks shine in Japan. As if Fate knew.)

Screaming sobbing barking howling

Tenya who has always allowed himself to be treated like a tool, like a commodity by his parents knowing that was the best he would ever get from them, but refusing to let them do the same to Harry and Teddy. Harry who would have let them use him at least (not Teddy never Teddy) because every moment from the one he received his letter has been honing him I to a tool to be wielded. Harry looking at Tenya with wide, confused eyes when he snaps at his parents and pulls Harry and Teddy from the house because he doesn’t understand. (No one ever stood up for him like that. Not when he was The Chosen One. It takes him far longer than he would care to admit to wrap his mind around it.)

Harry who bares his teeth and fights dirty. Fights like only one person will walk away from the fight and he is fully planning on being the one to do so. Fights like the weapon he was raised to be rather than the heroes those closest to him are. Harry who refuses to lose anyone else so he meets the villains on their level and comes out with more faces and names to haunt his nightmares but alive. With his family alive. He will bear the burden. He has always done so. Ever since his first kill at eleven.

And he comes back to Tenya and Teddy who ground him. Who remind him that he so still human. That he has people to live for and not four ghosts leading him to his death. (He cries after Tenya and Teddy fall asleep in the hospital. Cries so hard he forgets how to breathe. Cries for how close he got to losing this and the man he will have to become to make sure that doesn’t happen. One more fight. One more war. And then he can truly retire. He promises himself. Promises the two sleeping figures in the bed.)

Ginny and Izuku becoming fast friends and even faster allies. Swearing to each other (and eventually to Ochako who joins their little group after Training Camp when her mark only started to shine after a girl with a cruel knife and crueler smile had her pinned to the ground promising to make her red red red) that they would not bow to fates design for them. That they would choose what made them happy rather than the agony they had been saddled with. And of course, comforting each other when the grief of what ifs and shattered bonds become too much to bear on their own.

Luna and Shoto trading theories and conspiracies in a language that almost seems to be entirely their own. Shoto who sees the scars left over from the months Luna spent as a captive in the Malfoy estate and decides he needs both halves of his power to make sure it never happens again. Luna whose eyes go startlingly sharp the first time she sees Endeavor and refuses to let him anywhere near Shoto no matter how much he roars and rages. She puts out his fire with a wave of her hand when he tries to move her and sends him flying into the far wall with barely a thought when he tries to lift a hand to her. Shoto has never been more in love.

Percy who comes early enough to lure Touya away from a path that would only lead to the ruin of both him and his family. Who offers a better way to get his revenge. One that would disgrace his father instead of turning him into a martyr. One that would spare the innocents caught in the middle. And if all else fails he promises to make it look like an accident then leak the damning evidence anyway because really how many fire quirks does Touya really think exist in Japan magic is so much cleaner. Touya who sees that darkness and anger in Percy that he kept hidden even from his own family until it grew fangs and lashed out at them rather than the ones that truly deserved it and understands why this man is his.

George who stopped looking at the name on his arm after Fred died. He has already lost half of his soul he doesn’t need a mark to tell him that there is someone better than his brother. What other relationship could compare? What fate decided romance could possibly make up for the loss of his heart? The loss of Fred is like the loss of a limb and who could possibly replace that? And then he meets Tensei who has a brother he loves just as much as George loves his who doesn’t want to replace Fred but wants to make a life with George anyway if he would allow it. Who honors George’s brothers, dead and alive, just as much as he honors Tenya. And it doesn’t fix it. Doesn’t magically make Fred’s loss okay, but slowly it starts to hurt less to smile, to laugh. He can’t look in a mirror most days, but Tensei doesn’t seem to mind tugging him down to fix his hair or straighten his tie.

Everyone coming in twos and threes until they are all out from under the Ministry’s grasp and finally able to live rather than just survive. To thrive.

#the elf talks #mha #bnha #harry potter #afo: you’re a hero. you won’t kill me. your honor won’t allow it #Harry: a weapon has no honor

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clearphilosophercandy · 1 year ago

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All stories can be found on AO3. Just click on the link and there you go. Have fun.

I'm also open for requests.

Napola - Before the Fall (2004)

✖ Bliss

Albrecht gets his first boxing lesson - and something else. (Friedrich x Albrecht)

✖ Cloudless

After an incident, Albrecht is shipped off by his parents to another psychiatric clinic in Berlin, where he meets the young trainee Friedrich. He falls in love with Friedrich - and wonders why the latter already seems so familiar to him, even though they do not know each other. (Friedrich x Albrecht)

✖ Only the moon knows

Albrecht finally can't keep his thoughts for himself anymore, and pays Friedrich a late night visit. (Friedrich x Albrecht)

✖ The Mirror

Albrecht observes something very interesting in the mirror at the showers. (Friedrich x Albrecht)

✖ The Bathtub

Friedrich has taken Albrecht to his home in Berlin, and worries whether Albrecht will be able to find his way in this simple life. While bathing, however, Albrecht shows him how much he can cope. (Friedrich x Albrecht)

✖ On his knees

Albrecht can finally give Friedrich back what he himself got a few days ago - and doesn't hesitate to hold back. (Friedrich x Albrecht)

✖ Als wäre es nie anders gewesen - Deutsche OneShot Sammlung 🇩🇪

Hier findet ihr all die Sachen (die meisten zumindest), die ich sonst auf Englisch poste, auch in Deutsch. OneShot Sammlung & andere Dinge. (Friedrich x Albrecht)

Peaky Blinders

✖ Thin Lines

After an attack, Arthur decides it's time for Tommy to get a bodyguard. But Tommy decides differently than Arthur wanted - and besides, not everything turns out the way the Shelby family thought it would. (Tommy x Alfie)

✖ Frail Little Birds

Two stories - two different wars. About finding and losing, about hope and loss. (Tommy x Alfie)

✖ The Devil comes with hornes

Tommy receives a nocturnal visitor at the door whom he had believed to be dead. But it soon becomes clear that nothing has changed - except for Tommy's wish, so that he might forgive him at last. (Tommy x Alfie)

✖ Serendipity

[noun] The effect by which one accidentally stumbles upon something truly wonderful, especially while looking for something entriely unrelated.

or: Tommy and Alfie find love, even though they expected something completely different. (Tommy x Alfie)

Inception

✖ Freckles

It was irritating to be so close to Arthur, so damn close that he could even count the fine freckles on his nose. There were seven, finely distributed. No mirror, just Arthur. (Eames x Arthur)

✖ Out of place

Eames knows he does something very wrong when he takes Robert home - but he can't get over the pain Arthur left him with by leaving again, when things were about to get serious. (Eames x Arthur, Eames x Robert Fischer)

#masterlist #ao3 #peaky blinders #tommy x alfie #inception #arthur x eames #napola before the fall 2004 #napola #friebrecht #friedrich weimer #albrecht stein #friedrich x albrecht #german #tom schilling #max riemelt #deutsch

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sendandburn · 3 months ago

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An Analysis of the hogwarts teachers

This iwas included in the Analysis of Severus Snape as a teacher but i decided to put it in a separete post 'cause i feared it would be to long for Tumblr.

"Fake Moody [a Death Eater, but a Death Eater who fooled everyone, meaning his behavior was not that OOC for real Moody, whom Dumbledore hired]:

Transfigures Draco and slams him repeatedly against the stone floor while Draco is squealing in pain

tortures spiders with Crucio in front of Neville, which causes him such distress Hermione interrupts the lesson. Then, he “comforts” Neville. Now picture how Neville must have felt when he found out it was one of his parents’ torturers. That had to be more traumatic than watching your toad not get poisoned

curses students in class - “The rest of the class was very eager to leave; Moody had given them such a rigorous test of hex-deflection that many of them were nursing small injuries.” (r/harrypotter)

Ok , we don't know if the REAL Moody was even good at transfiguration so he might not have used that to punish Draco and as for the unforgivables....maybe...i mean, the reason Barty gave to show them that was a good one but Moody knew of the backgrounds of Harry and Neville so i'd like to think that he wouldn't use the unfogivables that affected them most with them in class.

"Flitwick:

does nothing about Luna’s bullying

has Seamus repeatedly write "I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick". The Irish were once openly compared to apes in England in the past, so that’s in extremely poor taste

Lavender bursts into tears during Charms, Flitwick doesn’t notice"

(r/harrypotter)

Ok, so i can't in good conscience say anything to defend him against points 2 and 3 'cause, quite frankly, there's no excuse for that, in fact point 2 makes him no better than Snape when he called Hermione the M word and he dosen't even have the excuse of once being anti-irish and trying to change,like Snpe does.

as for point 1 however the Harry Potter Wiki clearly states that when heads of houses decided to live at Hogwarts, they most likely had private quarters NEAR their House's common room. " note that it says Near, not In and as Luna's bullying happened In the dorms & common rooms, Flitwick would have no way of knowing about it unless she reported it, wich she never did.

"Trelawney:

predicts a death every year and generally distresses students with her predictions

To Hermione: “I don’t remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane.”

takes her anger about Umbridge’s performance review out on students: throws a book at Dean and Seamus, and thrusts another one so hard into Neville’s chest that he falls. She then calls the entire class a bunch of idiots: “You know what to do! Or am I such a substandard teacher that you have never learned how to open a book?”

Points 2 and 3 make her no better than Snape who is also often criticized by snaters for insulting his students, wich is funny if you consider that we clearly estabilished that he is not the only one who does this. As for predicting people's deaths, i understand that it's a part of her character, just like is a part of Snape's character to be snarky, however i can't help but think that she is incredibly stupid for doing that as it not only, as said distresses the students, but makes the theory that she is a fraud seem much more belivable.

"Slughorn:

starts an elitist club to promote his favorites and doesn't even bother to learn Ron's name. This clearly affects Ron (Molly is still raw about Arthur being excluded from the Slug Club, years later)

Ron is poisoned and he just stands there

was Tom Riddle’s mentor and his influence on Tom is apparent in Tom trying to become a teacher to influence young minds, and testing poisons on house elves; he is openly prejudiced, though non-violent. Further, Slytherins were groomed into the DEs under his nose." (r/harrypotter)

Ok, i'm not even going to defend him cause i never liked him and there are honestly no good arguments to defend his actions in any of those instances. Honestly, i can agree that Snape is a bad teacher but at least he never picked favorites or did nothing when a student was endagered in front of him.

"Dumbledore:

silenced student Snape after Sirius tried to kill him, and did not expel Sirius

His attitude toward Harry in OOTP was emotionally abusive

recruited students into the original Order while they were still his students in the Marauders era, and continued to use children for his war against Voldemort."

Look, i get silecing Snape as he didn't whant to put Remus in danger but Sirius punishment was fairly light in face of what he did, though i will disagree that he actively TRIED to kill Snape as the same point that was made in the original post about Snape and Trevor can be made about Sirius, to semi quote "Sirius is competent enough that if he’d wanted Severus dead, he would be. " i mean....He is the son of Walburga OFF WITH THAT ELF'S HEAD Black and grew up having acess to more dark artefacts and dark arts spells than Snape could ever dream of having, thus it would be as the host of screen rant says " super easy,barerely an inconvenience" for Sirius to kill Severus without being caught. However, it was still Involuntary manslaughter and thus " a Friday afternoon detention for the rest of the year, along with being banned from playing Quidditch for the rest of the school year." is not a suitable punishment

As for Dumbledore in OOTP, i get that he was afraid that Voldemort could read Harry's mind but that could be solved by simply writting a porpusfully vague letter like " Harry, I'm afraid Voldemort can read your mind, that's why I can't look at you and I can't share my plans with you. I need you to trust me, I have a plan and the best thing you can do to help is put all your efforts in learning Occlumency. I would teach you myself but that may allow Voldemort to see my plans, but I happen to know of another expert at Occlumency who may be of help. You might not like him but he is by far the best person for this job. Don't worry, i will talk him into curbing down his behavior so that he is more civilized with you during those lessons"

There Harry won't know for sure who his teacher is going to be (thus neither will Voldemort ) but at least he won't be compleatly in the dark.

Point 3 was always something that irked me about him, but i suppose i can't say much as age is also not a factor in the recruitment of death eaters, though it can be noted that while Voldemort did manipulate his potential recruits, he never lied to them about what he expected of them wich can't be said about Dumbledore.

"Hagrid:

gives Dudley a tail because Dudley’s father insulted Dumbledore. Dudley has to get surgery to remove it. He intended to transfigure him into a pig

gets the Trio involved in his illegal and dangerous dragon hatching scheme, which results in them being caught and punished and in Ron being gravely injured, for which he blames Ron

calls Draco an idiot

first sends Draco and Neville alone, after the unicorn killer, then sends Harry and Draco alone, despite seeing that Draco is trying to cause trouble

sends Harry and Ron into the forest to speak with Aragog

Draco gets injured in Hagrid’s lesson

His blast-ended skrewts lesson result in multiple injured students

threatens Draco with transfiguration again after Moody’s stunt

asks Harry and Hermione to secretly look after his incredibly dangerous brother

makes a fuss about the Trio dropping his subject and guilt-trips them about it" (r/harrypotter)

ok so lets go in order:

Point 1: IRL, it was clearly another demonstration of Jk Rowlling's fatphobia. In potterverse, it was clearly irresponsible and constitutes as a violation of the status of secrecy as, although the Dursley's know about magic, the staff of the hospital where Dudley goes to remove his tail do not.

Point 2: once again, Irresponsible, but in character for Hagrid who seemingly fails to see how something like a Dragon could hurt the students.

Point 3: and Yet another teacher who insults his students ladies and gentlemen.

Point 4: One of his worst offences on this list, Investigating the Unicorn deaths was HIS JOB!!!! Honestly, call Snape what you will but he never used detentions to send students to get dangerous potion ingredients for him or set any detentions past curfew. Hagrid should have them do something like clean the owlery instead.

Point 5: i get that he though Aragog wouldn't eat them, wich is in character for him as he always sees dangerous creatures as inoffensive but he didn't know for sure and could have just told them to research Tom Riddle's geneology wich would have been just as effective and way less dangerous.

Point 6: Ok let's get this out of the way first: YES, Draco is partly to blame for this injury as he insulted Buckbeak when Hagrid specifically told him not to! However, in any class there will always, and i mean ALWAYS be a student that, for whatever reason, fails to follow instructions so if Draco hadn't said a word, you can bet that another student who wasn't paying attention would have! thus the end results would still be the same, with the only difference being how much power the parent's of said student have at the ministry and if they decide to press charges or not. The risk was always there and that's what he gets for bringing a XXX beast to a third year class.

"Lupin

endangers everyone for an entire year by covering up for a mass-murderer just to look good, even after said murderer has infiltrated the castle twice, once attacking and traumatizing the Fat Lady and once pulling a knife on Ron

is negligent with his Wolfsbane - Snape has to nag him about it. This leads to him transforming in front of the Trio

Hermione doesn’t get a chance to fight the boggart, leading to her first less than perfect grade, which affects her confidence well into her 5th year. As the DADA OWL exam included banishing a boggart, this is presumably why she doesn’t get the O she deserves

Has no apparent issue with executing Peter in front of three children" (r/harrypotter)

Point 1: Ok,so i believe that his reason for not telling people about Sirius being a dog animagus wasn't to, as the post said, "Look Good" but to be loyal to his friends whom,being who they were,probably made a pact in their first year to not tell any figure of authority about their mischiefs, wich included becoming animagus. Was it a bad decision? Yes,as he should have put the safety of his students above anything else but i understand his reason. it dosen't excuse it though.

Point 2: while i can understand that, as anyone would forget it with all that was happening, i can't defend him for that one.

Point 3: "his teaching style was obviously not good for Hermione, who got an E in DADA because she couldn't defeat a boggart, because she didn't get the same chance as everyone to practice in Y3. She remained insecure about her DADA skills, for no good reason" (pet_genius on reddit) Honestly, the fact that he let any of his students leave without having defeated their boggarts is something that i think no one could defend and is worrisome that, if it weren't for the Patronus lessons, Harry might not have gotten the chance to defeat his either.

Point 3: Ok i need to remind you that: LUPIN IS A WEREWOLF WHO DIDN'T TAKE WOLFSBANE AT THE TIME AND IT WAS THE NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON! meaning, the freaking Wolf while not in control of his body, was very active inside his mind and it, being an animal, dosen't care about the emotional impact Peter's execution could have had on the children and with it being so close to the front of Remus' mind, it was very capable of clouding Remus' rationality and common sense, making him focus only on his anger.

"McGonagall:

forces Harry to become Seeker without asking him if he wants to, threatening him with punishment if he doesn’t practice hard (in the process, ignores Draco’s attempt to steal Neville’s Remembrall)

pulls 1st-year Draco by his ear in addition to assigning detention and docking 20 points, doesn’t give points back or apologize when it turns out he wasn’t lying

sends 1st years to the Forbidden Forest to find a unicorn-slaying horror, in addition to docking the trio 150 points, thus making them a target for hatred, for breaking curfew

Doesn't notice 1st-year Ginny’s obvious distress

Allows Ron to study with a broken wand

catches Harry and Ron wandering the hallways alone, at a time when teachers escort students everywhere, and lets them get away with it because Harry lies that they’re going to see Hermione in the hospital wing; does not escort them there

Locks Nev out of the common room with a mass murderer on the loose for having his passwords stolen, a humiliating and dangerous punishment for something that's not Neville's fault, in addition to a ban from Hogsmeade visits and detention.

Lets Harry practice Quidditch outdoors in POA despite the danger he is in, because, as she explicitly says, she wants the Quidditch Cup

reacts to “Moody” torturing Draco by ordering Moody to take Draco to Snape to be punished some more, and doesn't check on him

humiliates Neville because she doesn’t want to look bad in front of the foreign delegations

punishes Harry for losing his temper with Umbridge, proceeds to do the same thing in front of him

admits she treated Peter poorly because he wasn't as talented as his friends

The worst two sets of troublemakers in school history were her charges and she failed to control them." (r/harrypotter)

Point 1: “threaten” changes the entire context. She says she “may change her mind about punishing him” but it’s not made to sound very serious, especially since she smiles immediately after that. " (Fae_Faye) That said, while, as Fae_Faye said, she might have allowed him to give up Quidditch after trying out should he want to, it wouldn't be Oc for her to pull a Voldemort emphasizing the fun and glory that Quidditch can bring more than the dangers it can cause,suibitably manipulating harry into trying out should he decide that he dosen't want to play or wants to wait for y2. Yes, she would respect his opinion should he make his denial clear but she would still try.

Point 2: "Pulling somebody by the ear is a common way for adults to punish children but the fact that physical abuse is extremely common does not make it right. Would you find it acceptable if your employer dragged you around by the ear if you spent too much time on break? No? Why not? Why would that be cause for a lawsuit, but not an adult doing it to a (physically much weaker) child in their care?

At worst, the child will actually come to believe that he deserves being psychically abused if he's done something wrong, which, later in life, will turn them into an adult who accepts domestic violence. (Fae_Faye and to a lesser extent Vrajitoarea) Sure, she took more points of the trio than of Draco, but as his only misdeed was being out of the Snake's lair past curfew, a simple detention would have suficed.

Point 3: "There’s no evidence that McGonagall knew what the students were going to do for detention. It’s possible Hagrid asked for them without telling her why but the fact that she accepted to send three 11 y.o. to Hagrid, at 11 o'clock at night, without even asking what he would be doing with them? That's... somehow even worse.

Besides, Filch was the one McGonagall assigned to take them to Hagrid, and Filch knew what they'd be doing. Do you think Hagrid told Filch, whom he couldn't stand, but not McGonagall? And Filch didn't tell her either, for whatever reason?

About the point deduction –Harry and Hermione not only got into trouble themselves, but also put Neville and Draco into trouble as well, and already Harry and Draco have been troublemakers (having fights at the Hall over the Remembrall, breaking the rule about flying, and maybe some more- I can’t remember right now), so she was probably trying to discourage them from doing such a thing ever again by giving such a harsh punishment, especially since the school just recently had an issue with a troll on the loose and attacking students. In any case, Neville also had 50 points deducted, and Harry, Hermione, and Neville all became the target of bullying because of it. It doesn't matter what they did, putting a target on three 11 y.o. children's backs is wrong in itself. That it happened just for breaking curfew, and in addition to the detention in the FF, just makes it worse. (Fae_Faye and Vrajitoarea, semiquoted 'cause Vrajitoarea assumed Ron was involved)

Point 4: "Heads of Houses (i.e. real-life Housemasters) are parental stand-ins, and they're supposed to watch out exactly for this kind of situation. Ginny was visibly unwell, and Percy noticed, but couldn't force her to talk about it. Ron was a 12 y.o. child, he had no responsibility.But, anyway most people at that time were distressed with the opening of the Chamber, even the teachers. Which isn't an excuse. Checking up on 11 y.o. children who have just been separated from their families, for the first time in their lives, is the Head of House's job. After a superficial inquiry, it would have become clear that Ginny was having serious issues, which should have prompted further investigation." (Fae_Faye and Vrajitoarea)

Point 5: None of his teachers did anything about it. And Ron himself makes the decision not to get one because he doesn't want to suffer a howler: "Write home for another one," Harry suggested as the wand let off a volley of bangs like a firecracker. "Oh, yeah, and get another Howler back," said Ron, stuffing the now hissing wand into his bag. " `It's your own fault your wand got snapped-'" (Fae_Faye)

Point 6: McGonagall has no way of knowing that they’re lying; all she knows is that three thick friends have had one of their own petrified and so are desperate to see their friend. This scene showcases her empathy and kindness despite usually coming off as a disciplinarian. Also, the Hospital Wing is on the first floor and at the time McGonagall catches them, Harry and Ron were on the second – I don’t think it reflects that badly on her that she allowed them to go unescorted just one flight of stairs down, especially since she was rather too emotional at that time to think rationally (when Harry and Ron leave, McGonagall is tearing up and blowing her nose).(Fae_Faye)

Point 7: All McGonagall knows is that a boy habitually known for forgetting and misplacing things wrote down every password of the Gryffindor Common Room in the last week and then lost it while a mass murderer was on the loose and trying to get into the Gryffindor Common Room. Neville endangered every Gryffindor classmate of his by losing that parchment, and could have been the cause for all their deaths if Sirius had turned out to be the psychotic mass murderer he was painted as (especially since at that time, Ron was screaming about Sirius standing over him holding a knife). Sure, there were security trolls there to protect him ( “Poor Neville was forced to wait outside the common room every night for somebody to let him in, while the security trolls leered unpleasantly at him.” ) But, setting aside the sheer mental and emotional trauma Neville was experiencing by being forced to wait outside, fearing for his life, and to humiliate himself in front of his classmates by begging to be let inside his own "home"... Sirius Black was believed to be an extremely skilled killer, who walking around the castle without being seen. The trolls were not even a small guarantee that Sirius couldn't endanger Neville.

All this, for Neville supposedly having lost something (so, not a voluntary action, but the consequence of him being naturally forgetful, and of the fact that Cadogan was inventing harder and harder punishments, to the point that other students complained).

And Neville is an extremely sensitive child, so a punishment that would have been terrible for anyone, would be excruciating for him. McGonagall, as his Head of House, should know that. It's also extremely poor pedagogy - by having him there, it's a constant reminder to everyone else that he supposedly endangered their lives, which would prompt bullying." (Fae_Faye and Vrajitoarea)

Point 8: "Bad news, Harry. I've just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. She -- er -- got a bit shirty with me. Told m' I'd got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about you staying alive. Just because I told her I didn't care if it threw you off, as long as you caught the Snitch first." Wood shook his head in disbelief. "Honestly, the way she was yelling at me... you'd think I'd said something terrible... then I asked her how much longer she was going to keep it. He screwed up his face and imitated Professor McGonagall's severe voice. 'As long as necessary, Wood'..."*When it comes down to it, she clearly cares for Harry’s safety more than winning the Cup. I also doubt that Harry would have been in any danger out on the Quidditch field, since it’s part of the school, a wide open space and shooting spells at a person flying in the air would be almost impossible" (Fae_Faye)... so yeah that point is null and void but it is the only póint so far that is null and void.

Point 9: " I must say I don’t like how you word some of your points. McGonagall didn’t “order” Moody; she told him there were alternatives to transfiguring a student as punishment, which includes seeing their Head of House - and Moody immediately says he’ll do that.McGonagall’s reaction to “Moody torturing Draco” is thus: she "shrieks", drops her books, untransfigures Draco and then she scolds Moody "weakly". It’s made clear that she’s extremely stunned by what happened, still ,she didn't even bother to ask the Draco, who was visibly in pain, if he was OK, instead letting him be dragged away by his torturer, who was still threatening him." (Fae_Faye and Vrajitoarea)

Yes,his fall would probably not be considered serious but it dosen't change the fact that she should have asked about his wellbeing regardless of that: a scraped knee is not serious but it can still be painfull.

"In case of injury, you don't send the injured person to the "proper authorities", who will then send them to the hospital. Internal bleeding and ruptures are a thing.

About the pain, Draco might be slightly hurt by the ten-feet fall, but I doubt it's any more serious than a kid scraping their knee on the floor.

... repeatedly smashing someone into the floor isn't any more serious than a kid scraping their knee? Never mind the emotional trauma.

“I don’t think so!” roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again—it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more. “I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back’s turned,” growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. “Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…” The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly. “Never—do—that—again—” said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again. [...] “Hello, Professor McGonagall,” said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher. [...] Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing. [...] Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, [weeks later] The Gryffindors roared with laughter. Malfoy flushed with anger, but apparently the memory of Moody’s punishment was still sufficiently painful to stop him from retorting.

It's made very clear that the experience was a truly traumatising one. (Vrajitoarea)

Point 10: "She scolds Neville for not being able to do a spell properly, and does so by mentioning the delegates. Neville has a history of endangering the class by melting his cauldrons (see PS, where the students have to climb on tables); Neville was supposed to have studied that particular potion over the summer; living in a magical household, he could have even practised brewing it (unlike a Muggle-born); Snape had also given them exact instructions as they were brewing; Snape is clearly frustrated with Neville's seeming intentional incompetence, and wants to make him learn - which is why he tells Neville he'll have to use the potion on Trevor - he tries to scare Neville into paying attention, because he thinks Neville can get better (not a good tactic for someone like Neville).

McGonagall, on the other hand, may belive in Neville ( as can be seen from the quote: You cannot pass an O.W.L.,” said Professor McGonagall grimly, “without serious application, practice, and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an O.W.L. in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work.” Neville made a sad little disbelieving noise. “Yes, you too, Longbottom,” said Professor McGonagall. “There’s nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence." ) however, she never explains to him what he's doing wrong .

It's also mentioned that the only time she says something positive to Neville is in HBP, and then it's only because he was willing to die for Harry at the Ministry... which was actually the sort of reckless gesture that a teacher should not have been encouraging. If they had all stayed put, Sirius would have lived.

And, again, she was his Head of House - she was supposed to nurture him, help him gain self-confidence, not further undermine it.

She was often sharp with him, as she is with everybody. McGonagall holds all her students to high standards because she believes in them, and Peter probably didn’t meet those expectations often

(Fae_Faye and Vrajitoarea) Fae_Faye said and i agree that Minerva appears to not care what others think of her, but she knows that Neville does so her mentioning the delegates might have been done because she donse't want HIM to look bad in front of the foreign delegations.

Point 11: " There’s a difference. Harry is a student who can easily be punished by his professor for cheek and he is, after all, the person that the Ministry is trying to discredit as hard as they can. Though McGonagall’s job can be on the line, punishing her is a lot more difficult than with Harry, considering her stellar record of service in Hogwarts (thirty-nine years, wow). Their situations are nowhere near the same.

Point 12: "that is not what she said. Let’s see that quote, shall we? "Hero-worshipped Black and Potter,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I – how I regret that now …’ She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold. ' She was often sharp with him, as she is with everybody. McGonagall holds all her students to high standards because she believes in them, and Peter probably didn’t meet those expectations often, , along with him being a troublemaker as part of the Marauders. She regrets her sharpness, as most people tend to regret their actions regarding a dead person, even if they were right in those actions." (Fae_Faye) and here we have the second null and void point.

Point 13: "She constantly tries. It’s not her fault that they are completely unwillingly to change and, no you can't use Lily's morals to imply James's. It's the sort of reasoning used to dismiss domestic abuse, for example - X can't possibly abuse Y, because Y is a good person who wouldn't stick with them/wouldn't tolerate a bad person.

Plenty of decent people are partnered with terrible ones.

Besides, in Y5, Lily downplayed James's actions, and even "almost smiled" at him tormenting Snape. JKR had also said she was already attracted to James, even while he was being the school bully. She wasn't a saint Sure, Plenty of people seemingly have a good relationship and marriage.

The Marauders, i.e. James's friends and accomplices, tell Harry, who is highly distressed, that his father's head "deflated a bit." Then admit that James lied to Lily (why would he, if he wasn't at fault), and continued hexing Snape behind her back (the idea that Snape was the initiator falls flat on its face, when Sirius admits James was the one to decide when the hexing would occur; similarly, if James had grown as a person, he could have just used the Map to avoid Snape).

James' maturity is, as far as I know, collaborated by every person who knew the two, except Snape, who is biased to hating James

It's not. Only Lupin and Sirius say James got better, and Sirius is the only person, throughout the books, to call James "a good person." Seriously.

Hadn’t people like Hagrid and Sirius told Harry how wonderful his father had been? (Yeah, well, look what Sirius was like himself, said a nagging voice inside Harry’s head… he was as bad, wasn’t he?)

Hagrid only says, to James's orphan son, that James was brave. Which he was, of course. The best that McGonagall has to say about James, while looking back through rose-tinted glasses, is that James was brilliant… and the leader of a gang.

“He is his father over again—”

“In looks, perhaps, but his deepest nature is much more like his mother’s.

Considering Dumbledore usually reflects the authorial voice, there you go.

As for James's behaviour post-Hogwarts, JKR wrote two short stories that portray James as reckless, arrogant, mocking of Muggles, and responsible for the collapse of Lily's relationship with Petunia. Which I honestly find weird, considering she clearly intended for James to have become decent, yet never got around to actually writing it.

In any case, "toning down the bullying and the sexual assaulting" != "becoming a good person."

I don't blame McGonagall for the Marauders' behaviour itself, just for the complete lack of consequences. I find it hard to believe she didn't know about t.On the other hand, Draco was Snape’s student but he never managed to make him a better person bu that's because Draco was the subject of heavy indoctrination, and Snape had the mission of pretending he agreed with said indoctrination. Draco actually acts behind Snape's back a lot, like in PoA, when he's taunting the Trio behind Snape's back, while pretending to be very injured in front of him."

Holly shit that was long! and looking back i find it interesting that Pomona and Aurora Sinistra were the only one's not criticized by the original post (not couinting Septima Vector and Bathsheda Babbling who we don't see teaching cause the books were written in Harry's perspective and he never took their subjects), perhaps because they were the one's that actually deseve the title of best teacher at Hogwarts.

#character analysis #minerva mcgonagall #rubeus hagrid #hagrid is a man child #hagrid #filius flitwick #professor flitwick #horace slughorn #professor slughorn #remus lupin #commentary on a character analysis #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #mad eye moody

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kitsunerebel · 1 year ago

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These are my oc’s from left to right: Alice, Tori, Arthur, and Sophie. I’m planning on writing and if possible a comic fan project of my own Sonic X Universe. The story takes place on Earth where scientists and researchers discover a continent of anthropomorphic animals later on called Mobians. This discovery has brought a new world culture to society. But most human beings show fear and discrimination of them.

Alice is a young teenage girl with a heart of gold who loves running as much as she loves parkour and competing.

Tori is a rebellious girl who loves graffiti art and music. And may also have daddy issues.

Arthur is a shy yet brilliant mind who is excellent with computers and watching crime shows, and mystery.

Sophie is Arthur’s younger sister. She cannot talk but she has a knack talent playing her violin, she loves to tend to her flowers, and care for the animals.

One fateful day, the mad scientist Dr. Eggman attacked station square with the possession of four chaos emeralds in his giant mech.

Sonic and his friends arrived just in the nick of time and were able to defeat him. But the emeralds ended up scattered and lost.

When each of these kids find the emeralds a strange sense of energy flowed right to them, and gave each of them abilities of there own.

Alice can absorb abilities and turn into a half mobian whom ever she touches or bonds with.

Tori can endure pain and increase her strength to fight.

The emerald that Arthur touched not only perfected his eyesight. He can see all multiple visions for example sonar vision.

Sophie can use her violin to heal and restore life.

Unfortunately this leads them open for unwanted attention for Eggman and G.U.N.

Sonic and Tails were able to find Alice first.

Arthur got separated from his sister and came to Team Choatix for help.

Sophie fortunately met up with Amy and Cream.

Tori on the other hand ended up with Shadow.

Each of them will go through trials, face dangers and whatever foes lies ahead. The way for them to survive is to learn to control their powers and work together.

I’ll work on this project as soon as I can but I may need some help along the way. So if you don’t mind giving me ideas or some tips I would be most great full.

Thank you!😊

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princesssarisa · 2 years ago

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Sleeping Beauty Spring: "Let's Pretend: Sleeping Beauty" (late 1940s record album)

For children of the Great Depression and World War II era, a weekly source of fairy tales was the acclaimed radio show Let's Pretend, which aired on CBS from 1934 to 1954. Created, directed, and written by a woman named Nila Mack, and with a cast of "juvenile performers" mostly in their teens and early 20s, the show offered half-hour adaptations of fairy tales, myths, and other fantasy stories. Several record albums of stories were released as well, with the same cast, scripts, and music heard on the radio.

While no Sleeping Beauty episode of the original radio series has survived, the Sleeping Beauty record album does. The cast includes Marilyn Erskine as Princess Beautiful (yes, that's really her name in this version), Albert Aley as Prince Charming, Miriam Wolfe as the Witch, Arthur Anderson (a.k.a. the original voice of Lucky the Lucky Charms Leprechaun) as the King, Sybil Trent as the Queen, Gwen Davies as the Fairy Queen, and the show's host, "Uncle" Bill Adams, as the narrator. The script is by Nila Mack and the musical score is by the series' regular composer/conductor Maurice Brown.

The story is told in a concise, straightforward way, but with a surprising number of creative choices. The opening scene places far more emphasis than usual on the religious nature of the baby princess's christening, as it takes place in a cathedral instead of at the castle. The villainess who curses the baby isn't a fairy whom the King and Queen neglected to invite, but (as the cast list above indicates) a witch. Her anger at being snubbed seems less valid and more insane than the traditional fairy's, and her curse is especially sadistic too, as she declares that when Beautiful pierces her hand with a spindle, "blood will flow, her hand turn green" and "pain will twist her body crooked" before she dies. The traditional "last good fairy who hasn't yet given her gift" is also omitted. Here, the only significant good fairy is the Fairy Queen, and despite having already given the baby the gift of beauty, it's she who softens the Witch's curse from death to a hundred year sleep.

On Princess Beautiful's sixteenth birthday, her parents make the mistake of leaving her alone in the garden to pick roses. Then along comes the Witch, disguised as an old peddler woman with a spinning wheel for sale. In keeping with her sadistic words, after Beautiful pricks her hand, the curse takes effect so slowly that Beautiful runs away, bleeding and in pain, finds her parents, and tells them all that happened before collapsing. The King and Queen summon the Fairy Queen, but all she can do is instruct them to make their sleeping daughter look lovely on her couch (dressed in pink velvet robes, with a crown studded with diamond stars on her head), and then put the whole castle to sleep as well.

A hundred years later, Prince Charming and his squire Alan find the castle surrounded by dense trees, but when they approach, the trees part to form a pathway to the castle gates. The two explore the sleeping castle, and eventually, the prince finds Princess Beautiful's chamber, is smitten by her beauty, and kisses her. Upon waking, Beautiful instantly knows Prince Charming by name, explaining that the Fairy Queen told her in her sleep that he would come. The King and Queen wake and reunite with their daughter, the rest of the castle follows, and the wedding is joyfully announced.

Like most Let's Pretend installments, this Sleeping Beauty is full of simple charm. The young cast acts their roles well, the writing is poetic, and Maurice Brown's music provides the perfect compliment. One oddity, though, is that the actors always say "an hundred years" instead of "a hundred years. Did it used to be considered "proper grammar" for "H" to always be preceded with "an"?

I wholeheartedly recommend this album to old-time radio fans and fairy tale lovers alike.

@ariel-seagull-wings, @thealmightyemprex, @reds-revenge, @faintingheroine, @thatscarletflycatcher, @autistic-prince-cinderella, @the-blue-fairie, @paexgo-rosa, @themousefromfantasyland

#sleeping beauty #sleeping beauty spring #fairy tale #let's pretend #radio #1940s #record album

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 1 year ago

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Iteration - a Malevolent fic, epilogue

John has been poisoned. Who did it? Unknown. How can he be saved? If not for Arthur, he wouldn't.

The ripples from this event hit far distant shores, and no one will come out of it unchanged.

Part 100 of the Surrogate series.

AO3 - epilogue

--------

The poison was a mystery, and apparently, would always be. This… This would not do.

A spell to activate it was clever. The description of a sauce didn’t make sense, initially, but a magic surge to specifically catalyze the poison into its active form? Absolutely brilliant. Which made sense, given whom she thought had made it.

The Keeper had observed the tiny, frail, twitching piece of magic for hours, dissecting it thread by thread, vivisecting this unthinking, unfeeling living spell so she could see the ways each bit of magic interconnected. There, a specific intent to precipitate one ingredient into a solid from its dissolved state; there, a flash of energy directed just so to charge the particles in question, activating the magical cascade that chewed away at the injured fragments of gods and shunted them out, away, gone.

But fascinating as it was, she had pieces of a puzzle that were not complete. Dagon could not give her a name for the poison, and didn’t know how it was made. She’d paced, and brooded, and researched, and considered asking Dagon for every antidote he could cook up that might clue her in (damn the price!), but it wasn’t enough.

That’s when she heard the whistling.

Sharp, clever, perfectly on-pitch, yet absolutely chaotic in its purported melody. It was very clearly Kayne, in the Scriptorium, doing… something?

Whatever he was doing, he was bringing it her way.

And he was a mess.

Torn. Bloodied. He stopped whistling to grin at her like some rabid coyote, and then resumed, walking forward. His ichor was eating holes in the floor.

“Kayne!” She couldn’t quite keep herself from being bright and bubbly, the intrigue and the questions and the mystery and the need roiling together into a sound like teeth gnashing in delight upon seeing a meal. “Where are you going? What are you doing? Did you see what happened?”

“Heeeey, baby sis!” he said with a wave (flinging more ichor, which sizzled and spit as it ate into whatever it touched). “Got you a present! Oh wait, gotta finish my performance, ahem, ah… oooooooh!” He pressed the back of his ichor-dark hand to his forehead and threw his head back like some damsel in a movie. “Alas, I am done for!” And with all the drama of a thousand cats, he flopped onto his back on the floor.

She watched, silent and still, for a long second.

Wait. That was her cue!

“Oh no!” she cried, sweeping to his side, kneeling and pulling his limp form onto her lap. “My dearest brother, struck down but steadfast to return unto me! Pray tell, Kayne, speak softly to me; tell me your efforts were not in vain, so I may avenge thee!”

He gave her the most exaggerated wink. “No need, fair one, for I have avenged mineself!” He paused. “Myself? Mine… self? Well, either way, I actually didn’t do that, but I did getcha a present.” He held up a small, square crystal.

Inside, etched into the glass, was a recipe.

“I put on a show,” he said.

She gasped, soft, reverent, taking the crystal and rotating it in her hands to see every angle, the words trying to crawl from her sight but pinned in place. This was it. The poison. This was it! “Really? For me?”

“Well,” he said, and though he was grinning, his voice dropped into a terrible register. “I might’ve needed to remind someone not to fuck with my show, and also wanted them to think that they could fight me off.” He rolled his eyes back, and for a moment, aped dead, tongue improbably long and hanging out of his mouth. Then he grinned at her again. “I was just such a pain in the ass that he gave me the damned recipe to make me go away.” He cackled.

She grappled him within all four of her arms (and about five more for good measure), clutching him tight to her chest. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I need to tell Dagon right away. Everything was so muted and mixed with the interference I couldn’t tell—thank you!” And then she paused, hands ruffling his mussed and bloodied hair. “Do you need to be healed? A silly question, I know, but I can at least fix up your guise for you.”

“Weeeell…” Somehow, he did puppy eyes. “I can do it myself, buuuuut….” And he arched dramatically over her skirt-covered knees. “Oh, alas, I gots a owie…”

She pulled out a black silk handkerchief and tenderly daubed at his brow, power thrumming as his guise knit back together, leaving clean streaks of unblemished skin amidst the ichor that coated him. “But… why walk away?” She asked, torn flesh knitting back together under her ministrations. “This… you caught him, fair and square. He tried to kill your stars. Why let him go? Why not really make him suffer for it?”

That smile was worse, poisonous, dark, hungry. “Because it wouldn’t be enough, doll. There is a fucking reason no one has tried to go against me in millennia, and our brother… our fool of a sibling… thinks that reason doesn’t apply to him.” He stretched. “I mean, sure, he could quit now, but we both know he won’t. And sure, I could have called him on it now, but who the fuck cares? It’s just two gods squabbling over mortal toys. Nothing interesting about it. But.” He wriggled. “Oh, oh, oh, this? This is a fuckin’ guillotine of his own making. I’m not just gonna stop him. I’m not just gonna call him out. I am gonna humiliate him, hurt him, fucking castrate him, and do it all in such a way that he won’t stick his bleeding dicks out of his lab again for a million fuckin’ years. Even letting him pick me apart tonight was all steps on that road. I want him to think he can hurt me. When that axe falls, doll… it’s gonna be memorable.” He laughed, a sanity-shredding sound to match that smile. “They might even end up writing songs about it.” He suddenly drooped again. “Woe is me! I got bited. For He Was Just Too Much.”

“Oh nooooo,” the Keeper said, keeping up with the dramatics (if only just) while her mind clicked and whirred. “I… I see. It’s not about… them. It’s about making an impression.”

It did not feel good to say. She liked them. Her hearts hurt.

But that didn’t matter; her brother’s games were his own, and she could respect the main drive behind it. She was not his keeper (hehe), and neither was he hers. And wasn’t this a better solution, anyway? In the long run, this would keep him from sniffing at her door before long.

(She was, still, deeply angry about the incident at the House of the Worm. The servants of that awful sibling had stolen things right under her nose, and destroyed knowledge in the process. But that was her axe to grind, and she would not ask Kayne to heft it for her.)

“Humans have an expression I like,” he said. “‘An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.’ Teach a lesson good enough, you’ve only got to teach it once.” He wriggled again, settling on and in her lap like a cat. “I hope you like the recipe. Wasn’t why I went, but you know. Thought of you, and I was already there.”

“Don’t read my mind,” she huffed, but there was no force behind the words, merely a childish whine. “I really needed this. Both for your purposes, and… It doesn’t get much more rare than this.” Her voice was hushed. “I’ll get your show back on the road soon. Promise.”

“Aww, you don’t gotta, but thanks. They’ll manage.” He grinned. “So you like your present? Huh? Huh? Who’s the best older brother? I am!”

“You are!” She lifted him into the air, spun him, and brought him back into a crushing hug. “I love it, Kayne, I do. You’re the best. And, well, I will shortly be paid for the antidote, once I can confirm with Dagon. This is so helpful.”

“Ha,” Kayne said at her, at everybody, at nobody, and enjoyed being fussed over until he got bored.

Hastur tried to be a good god. Just. Right. According to his own code, anyway. But this…

This wasn’t the right thing to do. Yet… it was the right thing to do.

It was true that Bh’tnnkr’nuah would never leave those mines. He couldn’t; if anyone saw him again, it would be saying Hastur was weak, or hadn’t meant his word, or wouldn’t pursue suffering in exchange for wicked deeds.

But some part of Hastur understood. Understood this fool who’d thrown everything away for the sake of…

Of course he knew where the mate and daughter went. They weren’t hard to find. And he didn’t have to let them know he was the one who set up communications so these three could talk, see each other’s faces every night, even if they were separated by entire worlds.

The communication crystals were from his treasury, and marked when sent as final wages, paid in full, to be followed by no more. But this family could talk. See each other.

If, in time, that mate and child wanted to… visit him in the mines, Hastur would allow it—but that was far, far in the future. For now, this gut-wrenching mercy would have to do.

He understood Bh’tnnkr’nuah’s decision, but he could never forgive it. And as for whoever had pretended to be Gokar’luh…

The death of his son was out now, no way around it. Time for that part of the plan to slot into place—the pretended dismissal, the frustration that his banished child should have been so stupid, the laughter that Gokar’luh could ever have thought he’d succeed.

Tomorrow. The lies and sharp-toothed deceit, the pretense at the asbsence of grief… tomorrow.

Tonight, he sat alone in his room, and held Gokar’luh’s crown, and wept, for he understood the assassin he could never, ever forgive.

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

Notes:

(Note from Trin: it's my birthday, and I am a hobbit, so... here's 21,000 words for you!)

#malevolent #malevolent au #surrogate series #kayne malevolent #the keeper (surrogate)

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brujahinaskirt · 2 years ago

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Just some lil' thangs you might not notice about the level of detail RDR2 puts into Arthur's interactions with horses if you aren't personally experienced with horses:

[Sorry if this has been done! I couldn't find a post like it in recent tumblr history, and hope I can at least add some thoughts that haven't been analyzed to death already!]

(First, a note about me: I was raised on a quarter horse ranch and trained by a cadre of old-school cowboys in the Western tradition. Some of them were excellent teachers and some of them were crabby-faced bastards who thought "horsemanship" = engaging in a constant war with your horse... which gives me a little insight into positive and negative horsemanship styles on display in RDR2.)

(Second, thanks to fellow horsegirl @mangocats for helping me compile this list!)

(Third, a simple note to say that although I playfully use the term "horsegirl" in this post, the notes here apply to any gender. Same goes for the use of terms like "horsemen," which is not commonly used in the Western equestrian world to indicate a rider's real gender.)

Now, without further ado:

Press X to Calm. Arthur uses a tried-and-true low-stress, gradual escalation method of approaching and calming a spooked horse that begins with establishing physical contact with one hand and slowly increasing contact until the horse is fully calm and is once more amenable to human direction & commands. This is usually a preferable method to getting a frightened horse under control imo, but it's a "soft hand" method, and not something you always see in machismo-loaded equestrian circles. I've written about this a little in another meta post, so I won't get too deeply into it here.

Overall Horsemanship Style. You'll notice that while he does occasionally drive them hard in emergencies such as escaping the law or chasing a train, Arthur never "forces" his horses to comply with commands; in other words, he doesn't use his strength to try and bully a horse into doing something, like crossing a river, or physically punish a horse to "desensitize" it. "Forcing" horses to do things using tack designed to create discomfort or using raw bodily intimidation + fear & pain-motivated negative reinforcement is a tragically common tradition in old-school Western riding (and still advocated by some popular TV equestrians whom I think are straight-up animal abusers... if you know you know). It's dismal, but for a lot of the cowboys I know/knew, when a horse isn't obeying, you need to "show it who's boss." Arthur never approaches animals this way. By contrast, especially for the time period, he is exceedingly patient with horses and animals in general. We can even see this in his dialogue to wild horses; when they gradually calm down after the initial "breaking in" process, Arthur usually says something companionable like, "See, we're friends now."

And a sub-point on that: Horsemanship Temperament. Arthur never gets mad at or yells at his horse. Even when he gets chucked to the ground, he'll yell DAMN, THAT HURT, and then it's back to trying to calm the spooked horse. Which is exactly the right attitude to have. (Though if you've never been hurled face-first into a pile of sun-baked manure because your horse saw, idk, a twig on the road, you might not appreciate how even-tempered a character Arthur is for never succumbing to the temptation to yell, "COME ONNNN GIVE ME A BREAK IT'S A STICK YOU SILLY BITCH!")

Horse responsiveness. The horse emotional cues in this game are incredible, from their reactions to other animals and weather events to their reactions to Arthur. You can see the horse's neck muscles tense and relax when being calmed, their eyes changing in size, their head drop and raise in response to the reins, and their annoyance seeping through with stomps and pinned ears well before they start to spook. When Arthur speaks to his horses, you can even see a subtle ear flick backwards as they listen to him. When he gives certain commands (such as a mild squeeze of the knees to speed up a bit), a calm and attentive horse will often issue an affirmative snort; this is incredibly lifelike and essentially a "roger roger" between horse and rider. I was also impressed that Arthur uses his thighs and his knees to cue his horse more than his heels. Usually you just see the dramatic heel cues in in video games, but in real life, a rider gently but firmly squeezes their knees/thighs far more often than laying into their horse with boot heels, which is a fabulous way to get sent to the moon. One thing I would have liked to see is more riderless idle horse animations. Lazy or bored horses do a very classic pose where they rest their weight on one side, cock a hip out, and jauntily kick a back hoof up. It would have been right at home at the hitching posts in RDR2, and the horses are otherwise so lifelike, I find myself missing this little pose.

Historical bits. As players, we don't have much choice with this, since Rockstar matched bits to saddles rather than letting us customize them. With that disclaimer out of the way: Arthur uses a wide range of bits, some of them much harsher than others, designed to offer more control over a difficult horse's head through pressure points within the mouth. This is historically sound and far from obsolete in modern horsemanship, though I would certainly avoid using some of the harsher bits in RDR2 on my horses to avoid hurting them accidentally. That said, it's important to note that "harsh" control bits (like those wickedly straight-shanked bits you see with some of the cooler saddle styles) aren't instantly or automatically painful. While many of us modern horsegirls may frown upon the just-for-the-hell-of-it use of many styles of old-school, Wild West bit, in the hands of an experienced horseman with a good sense of appropriate rein pressure (which we can assume Arthur is), even a curb bit should not be a tool of pain. In the hands of a novice, however, some of those bits would absolutely hurt a poor horse's mouth and are typically reserved for troublesome (potentially dangerous) animals who may need to be curtailed quickly. I'm assuming Rockstar chose them for style more than characterization... but I do wince when I see those hard stops with the straight shanks, every time.

Horsetalk. We all know Arthur baby talks horses, and that his babble to his horse increases in affection with bonding level and varies a little depending on the horse's sex. But he also does something peculiar and frankly delightful with his vocal modulation on certain horse chatter lines. In those moments where he seems to go a little vibrato, warbling his voice as he talks ("waiaiaiaiaiaiaiat! come bahahahahack!" he calls after a fleeing mustang), Arthur is actually mimicking calming/positive horse sounds (usually a friendly nicker or a greeting whinny) in an attempt to communicate in horse language. While I think a TON of horsegirls have secretly nickered at our horses when no one else is around the stable, making horse noises at your horse is not a "traditional" training technique, and imo is something other gang members would definitely make fun of him for. It is also very adorable. I wanted to add that while horses are excellent at noise commands (like whistles, clucks, kisses, etc.), they usually aren't very good at identifying spoken word commands, including their own names. Therefore, the majority of the talking Arthur does to his horse is just free companionable chatter, much like we babble to our house pets. The command is in the cluck, the leg pressure, the yah, the rein slap; it's not the spoken, "Come on, girl, here we go!" That's just Arthur being a horsegirl.

Saddle checks. If you pay close attention, in cutscenes and in the map, Arthur will occasionally reach down and test various pieces of his saddle. This is particularly true with checking the cinches (those big straps that loop behind the front legs and under the belly), which good riders often do, as saddles can adjust during a ride. Straps that are too tight or too loose will cause a horse discomfort, since they change the way the saddle rests upon them and distributes the rider's weight. You can even watch the saddle shift when Arthur mounts and dismounts, reflecting the changed distribution in weight! This honestly floored me the first time I saw it. Rockstar really consulted people who know their stuff.

Bad Habits. IMO, Arthur's a little slouch-backed in the saddle. This is noticeably worse if he's hungry or sleepy, but even well-fed and rested, his shoulders drop and curve out his spine more than is ideal. This won't hurt his horse, but it will come back to bite him directly in the lower back as he ages, and I argue it's probably biting him in the ass a little now. (More on that below.) Arthur's "behind the horse" etiquette isn't particularly lifelike. In RDR2 (as in life), sometimes idling or benignly messing around behind a horse will cause them to randomly kick, and any equestrian knows not to hang out aimlessly in the kick zone. IRL, if you're about to walk close behind a horse, it's good etiquette to reach out and gently lay a hand on a horse's hip to let them know you're going to pass behind them before you step into the kick zone. I would have liked to see an animation for this, but I'd guess this would have been a real pain to animate without "locking" Arthur in place (as with the petting and brushing animations), so I can't really count this against him in good conscience. He also holds his reins in a full fist rather than between the appropriate fingers. This is a novice mistake, but I'm guessing this is an animation choice more than a characterization one, because I can't imagine getting those wobbly rein physics to rest perfectly between a model's wee little fingers. Which brings us to...

Reins. Arthur keeps a pretty tight (though not oppressive) grip on the reins when he has a horse in motion, facilitating quick communication from rider to horse and increased emotional response from the horse, and he tends to use both reins when he isn't holding something else. This increases control and often allows for clearer communication between horse and rider in comparison to the laxer "rein knot" one-handed Western style. More on that point: Arthur sometimes holds the reins in one hand. This is not lazy horsemanship, but rather a mainstay of the Western riding tradition; holding the reins in one hand allows for a rider to keep one hand free for whatever they might need... usually rope/weapons. Using two hands, one rein in each, does deliver much more refined control (especially with a nervous or inexperienced horse), which is why you often see Arthur switch between one- and two-handed riding. Rockstar also makes the clever choice to make reins “stretchy” so they move with the neck and simulate rider give and restraint, rather than having them just flop around at a static length. This makes reining feel a lot more dynamic and responsive, in my opinion.

Bareback vs. Saddle: To Rockstar's credit, riders' carriage when bareback is entirely different from the saddle carriage animations, and displays a lower center of gravity.

This note is a bummer, but it is, I feel, an important one to know. Arthur is WAY TOO BIG to ride a significant number of horses in the game. Horses are not bikes or cars. In real life, it's extremely important to consider a rider's weight and height and general carriage when matching them with a horse, especially for long-distance rides... and unfortunately, Arthur is prohibitively huge. If I saw a man Arthur's size astride that teeny little Morgan, boots tips damn near dragging, I'd give him a piece of my damn mind. That said, it's just a video game, so if you love that white Arabian or that sweet little Morgan, ride without shame; you are not hurting a pixel horse! But if you're into max realism or a horse an experienced rider like Arthur might conceivably choose for himself, go for something larger, leggier, and stronger. Though Rockstar fictionalized their breeds a little bit, I think one of their taller well-balanced styles like the Dutch warmblood, standardbred, Hungarian, Andalusian, or even one of those svelte Americanized Belgians suits Arthur much more comfortably. Online's Kladruber would also be an excellent choice for Arthur. (Ain't nobody saying SHIT to Arthur Morgan on a heavy breed like a Shire, though they aren't well suited for everyday long-distance all-terrain riding, and I feel sympathy pains about that leg spread just thinking about it. Speaking of...)

Real talk about Arthur's "swagger": Though I'm 100% sure it's a dominance thing for some crusty ol' cowboys, most equestrians don't saunter around Like That TM because they are listening to Rod Stewart croon If You Want My Body And You Think I'm Sexy at all times. That "swagger" is just... well... to be blunt, it's sort of what happens to your gait after you spend all day with your legs straddling a big animal moving on rough terrain. Hang out with some adults who have ridden horses daily since they were wee beans and they'll tell you allllll about what it can do to your posture. Contrary to cowboy jokes, it's not so much about being bowlegged (which is massively exaggerated as it pertains to horseback riding) as it is about lowering one's center of gravity to compensate for things like muscle strain, spinal compression, and lower back pain. Due to the high impact nature of riding, many career horsepeople develop chronic back problems and "swaggers," and for some it's eventually more comfortable to ride than to walk. Not saying you can't hc an Arthur who struts his stuff, of course! Just saying that, for those of you who might struggle to reconcile Arthur's blisteringly low self-esteem in his physical appearance with his "swagger," here's a horse world answer.

Knights Templar'ing it. This is another bummer for a ton of cute fanfic scenes, but riding two-to-a saddle is really not good for a horse. It's not just about raw weight, but about the distribution of that weight and where the pressure rests on a horse's back/organs. A bean like Little Jack sitting right in Arthur's lap isn't going to add too much stress to a horse big enough to carry a tanky dude like Arthur comfortably, but a whole second adult sitting behind a saddle is a very different story. Imagine the difference between carrying someone piggyback versus having someone stand on your spine! It's all about the position. Larger breeds can tolerate riding double for a while, but it should not be done for long distances, and it definitely should not be done if a rider expects to need heavy exertion from the horse. Adults riding double doesn't happen too often in RDR2 (usually just during an emergency), so this isn't a critique of Rockstar or Arthur; it's more so a helpful realism note for fanworks. An experienced horsegirl like Arthur is sure not to ride double casually. Pro-tip: If you want someone to teach your (non-bean-sized) OC how to ride a horse, consider having the teacher controlling the horse from the ground via a lead/lunge line while your OC sits in the saddle.

Oof, that smarts... When Arthur picks up hay bales with short sleeves on/bare hands, he makes a soundless "OOF OOOH EEEE OUCH" face. The first time I saw this, I absolutely lost it with glee. Anyone who has moved hay (or straw; they're different!) with bare arms knows how prickly and scratchy and itchy it is, and it's loving little touches like this that make RDR2's horses feel so darn real.

That's all I can think of for now! I hope this list was at least somewhat helpful, even if it's far from an all-encompassing resource on horsey stuff in RDR2. Happy riding, meatverse horsegirls & virtual horsegirls, and remember to always thank your horse :)

#rdr2 #red dead redemption #arthur morgan #horsegirl gamergirl hours #long post #redmeta

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aliypop · 2 years ago

Text

Black To Black : Chapter 3

Previous Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Word Count: 4,723

Writers Notes: Chapter 3! which is starting off in Season 3 and ending in the beginning of chapter 4, I literally have basically binged Peaky Blinders in the span of a week! and I’m gonna do it again!. Anyways this chapter I’m introducing 2 new OC’s Lorcan, and Vadoma. shoutout to @herosneednotapply and her OC Florence!

Warning: Show violence and language Suggestive themes

Pairing: OC ( Eleanor Williams ) / Thomas Shelby and OC

( Claudette Williams) x Finn Shelby

Plot: What happens When the Williams Family makes their grand return back to London from a war stricken France to only find the rocks of war and the runts of crime the Shelby family slowly leaking into their world,

1924 - Small Heath

"Finn, Isaiah, stay out here, " Julian said as the two nodded, "An you too, Dette," pointing his finger at her as she grumbled and groaned,

"Fine..." rolling her eyes, "Keep your secrets."

Walking into the shop, Julian passed Michael, who was sitting next to Polly, and Esme, who stood next to John, and front and center was Thomas, as always. From behind the door, Claudette tried to have her ears pressed up against it. Something told her that what they were about to say would contain some liking to her,

"The letter Julian..." Polly asked, pointing her cigarette toward her nephew. "Oh right, " he cleared his throat,

To whom it may concern,

On behalf of The Black Dahlia shipping company in Harlem, New York City, I would like to meet with you about an offer I doubt you can refuse. Nonetheless, to cut to the chase, you have something I want rather than someone I want back.

I'll be in London next week, and I've already scheduled an appointment with your lovely secretary Ms. Stark was it?

With love,

Leslie

"Something tells me, Tommy, this ain't gonna end well," Lorcan said, walking in and hanging his hat on the coat rack. Tommy glanced up at him, the shit-eating grin on his face that looked similar to their own father.

"Lorcan, Where the hell have you been." Polly side-eyed, looking him up and down

"Did the girl not tell you," taking his cigarette from his ear and lighting it, "I went to outbid on a fuckin horse against The Williams family."

"Outbid or stole?" Polly asked, glaring at him,

"Whatever keeps their fuckin priss of a bookie out our business." puffing his smoke towards Michael,

"That's the thing, the Williams are our fuckin business..." Arthur said, his temper getting to him,

"We got one already fuckin lurkin around 'ere. Tommy's been doing business with another fuckin one of 'em!"

"Let's not forget Julian sneakin around their brothel."

"They're good people if you got to know 'em, Arthur," Julian said as John sat and drank his whiskey. He knew at any moment, a fight would ensure itself right in front of him,

"It's only a matter of time before they come here and infiltrate us and take everything we fuckin own." banging his fist on the table,

Tommy knew Arthur had a point, and as his kid brother, he'd entertain it to make him happy.

But on the other hand, Tommy knew so much about Eleanor that he didn't even know about Grace, her favorite color to how she conducted herself for the public and behind closed doors. She was a true leader and was more of one than any military general he'd ever met.

"I say we hear what this lady's got to say, right, Tom?"

"Tommy?" John looked at him. He knew that look too well. He'd only seen him have that look on his face twice in France. They were for women he'd truly admired, "Yeah, Michael, you'll be picking her up from the station and driving her to my office, John, Arthur, you're coming with me."

"What about me?" Lorcan snarled,

"You will try to keep the pain in my ass, who's sitting outside the door trying to listen in, busy."

"How the fuck do I do that."

"Take her out for Ice cream, pickpocketing whatever girls do in 1924." he sighed, his train of thought broken when he heard his office phone ring.

"Tommy, the phones for you," Lizzie said,

"Who was it," his voice deadpanned and tired,

"An Eleanor Williams."

"Tell her I'll be there." Polly quirked her eyebrow. Watching his body language, she could sense something different about him that wasn't present when he was around Grace. Of course, like any worrying parental figure, she'd find out sooner or later.

London

"If it isn't Eleanor Williams, the voice of London," one of the tailors said as she sat in the shop of Ede & Ravenscroft, a fur coat draped over her dress,

"Coming in to pick up your sister's new suit?"

"Sending a friend off with a gift." the melancholy glee in her voice. Thomas had been getting ready for a wedding with just the right amount of peace. But still, something told him not to do it. It was because he was obsessed with how she made him feel or because she was carrying his child.

"This friend sounds important."

"He is..." Eleanor laughed. Eleanor had so much on her plate. With their businesses expanding to America, and the growth of her namesake at the club, she was assigned to soon leave and explore the states to arrange a few deals. But how would she move on when she still had unfinished business here. Sure they rid the streets of Sabini, but she had another threat wanting to steal what her family made.

"Elle, what the hell is this for."

"There's a little gathering at my home. I need a second ear in my corner since Julian declined," she smirked as Thomas noticed the cheeky tone in her voice,

"The truth Eleanor."

"I think you're an exceptional man."

"About why I'm here."

"You two must be the happy couple..." another tailor said, looking between the two, trying not to point out the obvious,

"We're not a couple."

"We aren't, but you proposed to me!" Eleanor grasped her pearls as she swatted at him. Tommy was taken aback at first until she winked at him, "She's had too much Champagne to drink." Tommy added as the tailor nodded,

"So you are the happy couple?"

"No, just fucking with, we're just friends, and he's getting fitted for his ceremonial suit." Tommy had a soft and sad look on his face. It really did hit him. He was getting married without saying his peace to Eleanor,

"And he'll need two. He's got a special occasion tonight."

"Are you sure you can afford it? " Tommy looked at Eleanor as she put her hand up, "Why don't you add it under the accounts of Black Pearl textiles. See if you can afford that." she smiled, as Tommy then looked at the tailor, nodding his head in agreement, "And while you're at it, nothing but the best fabrics for Thomas Shelby," she scoffed, watching the man scurry off,

"I think you've scared him off."

"Good, It's what that bastard deserves. My grandfather used to shop here!" she fumed,

"Elle, calm down, look at me, tell me about this event of yours, yeah." Eleanor took a deep breath. She then sat,

" It's a charity ball formed with the Foundling Hospital to help poor blacks in the community." Eleanor smiled, "Didn't know you were into charity."

"God loves a cheerful giver, and so do crooked cops who don't bat an eye as to why a family with such pigmentation is so wealthy," she responded,

"And where do I come in."

"I'm getting there, " she sighed, "The Italian mafia has landed in New York. Some of Sabini's men told Changretta's son. About the little parlor trick you all did with the licenses back in 22," lighting her cigarette as she used hers to light his,

"Yes, go on,"

"Well, he's a power-hungry little prick. He's taking every business under the rug bit by bit. He's already sent a few threats to several of our own, and-"

"You need me as protection?"

"No, I need you to hand out sandwiches..." she puffed out her cheeks, "Of course, and my mother wants to meet the man behind the Gin."

"I hate you so much, Elle." he laughed,

"You're the best, Shelby." she smiled, "It's the Connelly house in Kensington !" she said, walking out the shops' door,

"And where are you going?"

"You're buying me a dress?" she laughed, holding a few hundred pounds in her hand,

"You fucking rat." he rolled his eyes.

"Do I have to wear a gown..." Virginia grumbled as Bernadette watched the maids pick out her daughter's dress, "This is for the entire city to see you and, just once, grant us this one night." she asked as Claudette watched from the doorway, "I think she's perfect," Claudette shrugged, wearing one of Eleanors older gowns from 1910,

"You look gorgeous, just like Eleanor did when she first wore it. Of course, you could gain a few pounds in it." Claudette nodded, "Mother, I invited a few friends, so I hope you don't mind that." Claudette sighed,

"Oddly enough, I invited some gentlemen your age from wealthy businesses."

"I'll be sure to dance with them."

"Oh, and Andre..." Bernadette turned his way, "Stand up straight,"

"I don't think he can." Virginia snickered, "Very funny speaking of which, you should go check on Eleanor." he smiled,

"What's wrong with her,"

"She's been talking to herself."

"Lord, why now," Bernadette grumbled, walking out of Virginia's room. Guests were already arriving, and she was the hostess,

"I can't tell him, not two days before his wedding. that would be rude." Eleanor began to pace, fanning herself, her dark blue beaded gown trailing behind her,

"I'll talk to him tonight,"

"To who?"

"Mother, I was-"

"Was what. You're not pregnant, are you? How could you be? You're our white pearl," Eleanor laughed. She'd lived 34 secretly slutty years, but as far as anyone could confirm, she was still her mother's impactful yet seductive pearl. "I was going over a deal in my head." she smiled, "I get it, this was your father and aunt's business, and it passed down to you." she fixed her headpiece of pearls and feathers,

"But tonight, you are a woman of society, not a roughing thug." she handed Eleanor her gloves,

"Now go."

"How do you tell a girl you like her?" Finn asked as Isaiah rolled his eyes. Tommy took a deep breath as he looked around the mansion, money everywhere. Tommy could sense why Eleanor never really enjoyed it.

It was stuffy and perfect with its art deco remoldings,

" You tell her, kiss her, invite her for a drink. Hell, wear a tuxedo for her," Tommy mumbled, loosening up the bowtie. Claudette walked down the staircase, her lavender gown and pink sash belt dragging behind her. Finn's eyes had almost left out their sockets. He was left speechless, but his feet still remembered how to move. Running through the crowd of the many boys lining up to ask her for the first dance,

when Claudette turned, her eyes met straight away with "Finn..." she blushed. If she hadn't known any better, she'd have said he looked as sophisticated as Michael. He looked like a Cambridge man to everyone else, but he was still the Finn who John snuck Whiskey when Arthur wasn't looking. "Claudette, you look different." Isaiah nudged him, whispering, "Uh, neat."

"He means to say beautiful."

"You think so?"

"Uh, Y-Yeah." Finn was red, "Are you gonna walk me down. Everyone's staring us down, like we're diseased or some shit." she mumbled, "Right, yeah." Isaiah and Finn on each side of her walked her down the steps, through the crowd of envious boys,

"It's weird seeing you dressed like this, Dettie." Isaiah laughed,

"I'm always dressed like this." she huffed

"I look stupid, Andre..." Virginia growled, walking uncomfortably down the stairs in her heels,

"You go change. I'll stall for time." Andre smiled as Virginia ran up the steps,

"Remember, smile..." Bernadette whispered, her husband Louis standing next to Eleanor, "Back straight, you've many to impress." Eleanor ignored her, scoping the room for any of Changretta's men. Walking down the steps, she thought of every plan and then some, clutching onto her fur shaw until she reached the middle platform. Her gaze was back on a peculiar crowd of the wait staff this time,

"Ms. Williams, may I?"

"Mr. Shelby, you may." she smiled as he took her hand, helping her down the last few flights of steps, "New suit?" she asked as he pulled her close to him,

" A friend bought it," he smirked,

"Lucky friend." standing in the middle of the living room, turned ballroom,

"Let the first dance commence."

Although her father was progressive with the changing times, her mother was still very partial to dances such as the waltz. "We don't have to dance if you don't want to." Eleanor smiled, trying to walk away until she saw her mother gesturing for her to lead off the dance. Everything was all about appearances,

"I could use the practice for my wedding." Oh, that word, how he hated saying it to her face, knowing it wasn't Eleanor who'd be walking down the aisle.

"I'm sure Grace will make a lovely dance partner." Positioning herself for the waltz,

"Can you picture it?"

"Picture what, Finn?"

"You and I together?" twirling her around,

"As friends?" she questioned. Finn took a deep breath. He had been in love with Claudette since she started sneaking out into the streets of Small Heath when they were both four years old,

"No, Claudette, together,"

"Are ya asking me to court ya?" Claudette looked shocked, "I don't know what to say. Can I think about it?" Finn nodded as she kissed his cheek, "Thank you."

"I would like to make a toast," Eleanor said, standing in the dining room amongst every politician in London and the highest of social classes,

"I would like to thank you all for coming and supporting our community and charity work." she smiled. It wasn't that Eleanor hated these events. She just hated that they had to pretend this wasn't another cover-up so her mother would feel that they were doing the right thing,

"And I'd like to thank Thomas Shelby for his-"

BLAM!

"Everyone out!"

Eleanor, Virginia, Andre, and Louis had their guns drawn, ready to blow the heads off anyone who felt brave enough to try. "You have something our boss wants." one of the soldiers said,

"Tell him he's going to have to kill me first." cocking her gun pointing it toward the man's head,

"Don't mind if I do." raising his gun at her, Eleanor puffed out her chest, closing her eyes screams from her family were heard. If she could be lifted of her family's expectations, she could be free, Eleanor could be in peace, she could-

BANG

"You..." Andre growled, his gun pointed at Tommy, "It's always fucking you!" Tommy stood there calm and collected, one being this was someone else's home, and two, Eleanor was standing r there. He didn't want to do anything that would make her think any less of him, " 22 to fucking now!" Andre growled,

"When are you going to get your nose out our fucking family busi-" the barrel of his sister's gun at his nose,

"He's the reason your bar is outselling the crap table, so in my presence, you will show him some FUCKING RESPECT!" there it was, the passion, the catalyst of too much whiskey and too many old-fashioned knocked back, "He's a snake," Louis mumbled under his breath, Virginia looked between her family and Tommy,

"He saved our lives..." she growled,

"They're all dead, Tommy," Johnny walked in, "Ms. Eleanor, ya look lovely" he tipped his hat. Finally, reading the room, he gave Tommy a nod and left.

"He brings trouble..." Andre laughed,

" I'm leaving..." Eleanor faced him.

"Put your gun down," Tommy suggested,

"Where do your loyalties lie, Eleanor Vadoma Williams..." Louis said. Eleanor faced her father, tied between worlds her heart and her family,

"That's right..."

"I think I could go for some Irish whiskey. What about you, Tommy."

"If you walk up those steps and out that door, don't bother coming back in this house."

Eleanor took to the flight of steps packing a few dresses and her furs,

"Where are you going," Claudette asked,

"Claudette, promise me something."

"What's that."

"Always fight for what you want."

"Is that what you're doing."

"Yes." Eleanor smiled. Kissing her forehead.

"You be good, stay out of trouble, and take it easy on that boy." she winked,

"When'll you be back?" Virginia asked,

"Give father two days, handle all my calls, and tell Jessy and Mrytle to alternate through my songs at The Pearl." walking downstairs, she looked at her father and Andre and left out the front door. Eleanor leaned against the glass window of Tommy's car, watching the house blur into the distance. Arrow house was a nice size home for Tommy, enough for a man, his horses, and maybe even a few children to run around in the courtyard, a daughter and a son, Eleanor thought as a faint smile appeared on her face,

Arrow House

"Sorry if it isn't Connelly mansion," Tommy said. Eleanor took the hand of his driver as she stepped out of the car, "It's fine. Andre inherits that shithouse anyways," she mumbled,

"Oh." was the only thing he could think to say if his mouth had opened,

"That spineless bastard is your brother?" Tommy walked her through the house, "Sadly, he and I are related," her eyes caught the painting of Tommy and Grace on the wall. It was sickening, making her stomach turn as a reminder that she may never be the apple of his eye.

"Mary, could you show Eleanor to her room."

"Of course, Mr. Shelby."

Later that night, Eleanor tossed and turned in her bed. She couldn't sleep, not with her mind racing with everything around her going on and the fact that she'd be in town for a few more weeks. Staring out the window. She heard the sounds of light rain pattering against the glass.

"Rain means many things, rebirth, melancholy, rain is the first kiss of first love. Perhaps even a lost love, it's magic and wisdom, freedom, sometimes redemption." her brain replayed the tender moment. This wasn't about her family. It was about letting the very thing off her chest. She needed to tell him. No, he had to know,

"Elle, are you alright."

"I'm in love with you, Thomas Shelby, and I shouldn't be, not when you've someone else waiting to say I do to them, and no amount of playing nice is making me wish it was me instead of her and on top, I'm leaving for Ameri-" Tommy kissed her, pressing his forehead against hers,

"I know you are," he rubbed circles on her cheek," Lay with me tonight?"

Tommy sat in his library study, surrounded by his own cloud of smoke from his cigarette. He'd been doing some light reading and watching Eleanor at the stables feeding his horses. Polly stood watching him, "Are you sure you're marrying Grace for the right reasons?" her thin cigarette in hand, Tommy turned to face his aunt, whose eyes were burning through him,

"I'm marrying her to protect her honor."

"Some honor." she snarled, quirking her eyebrow,

"I know I'm old fashioned, and it's none of my business, but from the look in your eyes, I don't think you're ready to marry, at least not Grace." she stood next to Tommy, her gaze right on the woman, then back at him, there was a soft smile on his lips that she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen,

"Grace loves me. That's all that matters."

"I see..." she nodded,

"Tommy, I hope you don't mind, but I stole some of your clothes. To-" Eleanor's voice trailed into his study. Polly watched how his face flushed to a delicate pink and how quickly he was to look at her. That was a man in love,

"Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt."

"No, come in, this is me aunt Polly Gray," Polly quirked her head to the side, Surprised he'd introduce her, but she had to find out about Grace.

"He's told me so much about you. I'm Eleanor Williams." she smiled, "Yes, the one at the Garrison party in 1922." Polly smiled back. She was beautiful and polite a semi-round face with the bone structure of someone she once knew, and from what Tommy had told her about Eleanor, she could hold her own,

"Would you happen to know a Vadoma Dupont?"

"A little, but I wish I knew more about her."

Polly nodded. "Is that me jumper?" Tommy asked as Eleanor looked down at it,

" It is. I can take it off if you-"

"No, it's cute. Actually, Pol made that."

"You have quite the hand, Ms. Gray." Eleanor smiled, "Why if ever want to make more, I have my hand in textiles," she joked as Polly laughed,

"I'll let you know, dear."

"Oh, and Tommy?"

"Yes, Elle?"

"I hope you have an amazing and happy life with Grace." Polly could see both their shattering hearts, just at that statement alone, "I hope America's all that you dream of." he nodded. Polly knew this all too well. Fate sent them as lovers at the wrong time, and with someone like Tommy, almost every moment was the wrong time, "I best be on my way, Tommy, I'll write you. Oh, and Ms. Gray. May we meet again." she kissed her cheek as Polly nodded,

"May we meet again, dear," Polly watched the conflicted look in his eyes. He wanted to stop her, but he knew, just like him, it was business and then family afterward.

1922 the 24th of May

My Dearest, Thomas Shelby

I write this to you with a heavy heart. America hasn't been the kindest, and neither has the food. Today several black Americans were hanged, and no one here trusts me enough to make a deal simply because of my colour or sex. However, I digress. I'm headed to New York City to meet with a woman named Florence. she says you two met in France? She also says she's able to help me with the Changretta problem. But enough about me, how are things with Grace and Charlie? Virginia tells me there's a Charity Ball, and you've invited my family. I wish I could be there. After all, we Williams do throw amazing parties,

Nevertheless

With love

Your friend,

Eleanor Vadoma Williams.

Heels clicked down the floors of Shelby limited as Tommy read over the letter. Things had been going decently well for him, but he still wished he had Eleanor by his side. Sometimes when he talked to Claudette, he could see pieces of her, but it wasn't the same. It never would be without her around. "Mr. Shelby, Leslie Williams is here to see you," Lizzie announced as Tommy set the letter aside, "Bring her in, Lizzie."

Standing before him was a darker-skinned woman wrapped in a beaded gold dress with a headdress to follow. "So you're the one my niece has been following about." she laughed, "It's an honor doing business with you, Mr. Shelby. May I say your name is dripping through the states?"

"So I've heard. " tapping his fingers, itching to write Eleanor back, "I'll cut to the chase. The Americans want booze, and a little birdie named Andre tells me you got it," she smirked,

"As co-owner of The Pearl, I figured we up the price, inflation if you will."

"How much are we talking,"

"Enough that, in return, you'll bring my Black Daliah snow here. It's purer and more powerful than the weak shit they sell you here." she laughed, "It's the bee's knees in Chicago. If you will." Arthur walked by as Tommy ushered him into his office, passing the sample of cocaine to him for him to try since he was the true master of it. "Whatdya think, boys?" leaning back in her chair,

"It's fucking good. It works fast." Arthur smirked.

"Lorcan... where's Tommy?" Claudette asked, standing in the lobby. Lorcan only shrugged as Julian took a deep breath,

"He's busy."

"I need to talk to him about somethin -"

"You're not a Shelby. You can't go up there."

"It's important!" trying to walk up the steps, Lorcan blocked her path, "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Claudette threatened, her eyes dark with anger. She had gotten word about the Russians and their plans, but still, it didn't matter,

"Fine ... then go, but don't say I didn't warn you." Julian looked at his brother, nervous about what she'd see and whatever it was, who she might even tell.

"So, have we got a deal, boys?" Leslie asked. Arthur looking at Tommy, a grin on her face full of lies,

"I think we'll consid-" Tommy watched as the door flew open. "Mr. Shelby, Arthur, I need to tell ya somethin." Leslie turned around to face the new intruder in their meeting. In front of her was a beautiful brown skin girl with vibrant brown eyes and her beautiful curly hair, it was her "Claudette..." Claudette saw her, and it was as if she were the same as when she had died. Claudette was no more than four when it happened, but she remembered looming over her mother's body. Screaming for her to wake up, thinking that she never did, Claudette had thought for years her mother died,

but to learn she'd been alive for this long was heart-shattering,

"My baby girl, alive and well..." trying to touch her, Claudette backed away as Arthur was on guard,

"YOU LEFT ME!" tears streaming down her face,

"Claudette, come here," Leslie cooed,

"I came back for you. I did." Leslie smiled, " We could start a new one in New York City. You could be my little pusher girl, " Tommy glanced at Leslie and then at Claudette. She was filled with white lies like their father, "Leave..." Claudette pointed,

"But sugar plum."

"FUCKING LEAVE!" Leslie looked over at Arthur and then at Tommy.

"You 'eard the little lady leave," he growled,

"You Shelby's will reap everything you sew." she spat, walking out of the office, "You'll be wise to consider my deal." Claudette's body tensed as she was transported back into the memory of that God-awful night in Birmingham. It was as if her world was ending again. A piece of her was dying, called innocence. All this time, the world had been rose-colored and beautiful, and now dark, dull, and harsh,

"Take me home." she rasped out,

1924 31st of May

Dear, Elle

To answer your question concerning your last letter, I bring horrible news Grace is dead. Changretta sent an assassin to kill her. I feel it should have been me who died instead. I know what you're going to say, and it may just be what I need to hear to carry on. They've named an orphanage after her. Of course, everyone around me thinks I should take a break, but even you know it's not in my nature to,

But enough about that, Claudette has been thinking of stepping away from being a Williams. Arthur's teaching her the ropes of being a Peaky. She's been staying between here and Small Heath. She's been a bit of help with calming Charlie down. Who like me, can't sleep much in this house. In return, she's asked me about teaching her horseback. She refuses to learn side saddle, rebellious like someone else I know. And Florence, she's a good pick, a woman I respect dearly. Who may ask, and I quote, "What the fuck were you doing in the south."

Your friend,

Thomas Shelby

Walking away from the camp of Romani wagons, Tommy held the sapphire necklace Grace wore on the night she was killed. He just needed to know that it was cursed and her death wasn't fully his fault. Walking towards one of the wagons, he saw a woman who almost looked like "Eleanor..."

The woman looked up at Tommy. He must have been Birdie's grandboy because he looked like her, eyes and all, "No Eleanor here, just a Vadoma Dupont." her accent was strong French,

"Are you kin to an Eleanor Vadoma Williams?"

"My niece, you know her, yes?" Tommy nodded as she laughed, "I don't see her much, but I sense her with you," she added,

"I sense many things from you,Tommy." Vadoma then said,

"What would that be ..."

"A snake may shed it's skin, but it's easier to stare it in the eyes." she winked, as Tommy looked at her. a bit confused, "It'll all make sense in due time."

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders oc #peaky blinder fanfic #New Chapter #historic fanfic #oc x canon #oc x thomas shelby #thomas shelby #Eleanor williams #new ocs #poc oc #poc writer #new fandom #the williams family

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