#love drawing/seeing intimidating Kieran | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

morganaseren · 3 years

Text

WIP Meme (Warden Inquisitor Niamh/Warden Bethany)

Tagged by: @illusivesoul Many thanks!

Tagging: @this-is-something-idk-what, @noeldressari, @jellydishes, @w-h-4-t As usual, I suck at telling who has or hasn’t been tagged yet.

So this WIP is from prompt #3 I made off this list. It doesn’t tie into the other Warden Niamh/Warden Bethany AU I’ve already written; this is something wholly separate. No knowledge of it is needed to read this.

Granted, this is a much rougher draft than what I’d normally post here, but given I’m already more than a month behind on updating OtSttCA, I thought you guys would appreciate the treat. :)

Things you might want to know:

As with any AU where Niamh is a Warden, she’s the one who undertakes the Dark Ritual with Morrigan in order to spare anyone from being sacrificed once the Archdemon is slain. Through magic, Kieran is born as a result of their union. While both women carry a great deal of respect for one another, they aren’t and were never in a romantic relationship although there’s gonna be a whole separate AU for that once I get around to writing it.

Niamh is the Warden-Constable for Ferelden while her sister Saoirse is the Warden-Commander and Hero of Ferelden. Saoirse and Leliana are married sometime after the end of the Blight.

As a result of going on the Deep Roads expedition with her sister, Bethany contracts the taint and has to undergo the Joining in order to save her life. She is transferred to the Fereldan branch of the Grey Wardens by Stroud not long afterward.

Niamh and Bethany are in an established relationship by the time the events of Inquisition begins.

While Niamh would normally be off searching for the cure by then, I'm just going to headcanon that she and Morrigan weren’t able to find a suitable lead in their research until much later—enough that they start hearing about the mass disappearances of Wardens across Ferelden and Orlais.

Out of concern, Niamh and Saoirse convince the remainder of their comrades (except for Bethany obviously) to head toward Weisshaupt for help, but Niamh senses that's enough wrong about the situation that she also tells them to journey there in secret. Vigil’s Keep is pretty much closed down at this point until they can figure out what’s going on.

Niamh and Bethany head out toward the Hinterlands to follow up on reports of some Warden sightings in the area. It's when they're stopped in the Crossroads area (where you meet Mother Giselle) that Niamh has Bethany to ask the villagers for any leads while she heads up to the Temple of Sacred Ashes to follow up on a tip there. The usual stuff happens, and she ends up waking up in Haven's dungeons, where she gets interrogated by Cassandra.

Honestly, this follows pretty closely to how OtSttCA unfolds as far as the major decisions being made within it goes. However, because she wasn’t in self-exile for a decade, Niamh’s a lot more laidback and confident in her ability to lead, especially with Bethany by her side.

Along that same vein, Bethany is also more self-assured in her abilities as a mage now that she no longer has to fear hiding from Templars. As such, she’s much quicker to speak about what’s on her mind rather than bottle them up as she used to in the past. She confronts Cassandra like an absolute badass several times during the beginning of the story in defense of her lover, which you can check out below the cut with the rest of the content. ;)

Like in her canon world state, Niamh isn't treated well when she’s imprisoned. The guards merely know that she's a mage, so they're operating under the assumption that she caused the explosion at the Conclave. It doesn't help that Niamh's been essentially undercover to search for the missing Wardens, so she's not wearing her usual uniform to signify her status. Cassandra does her whole intimidating interrogation as per usual when Bethany—in all her Warden regalia—bursts in with Leliana.

---

"She leaves with me," she leveled at the Seeker coldly before turning to Leliana with a deep frown. “Why did you not put a stop to this?”

“I arrived here at the same time as you. I didn’t know she was here until she was already imprisoned.”

Niamh couldn't help but chuckle under her breath, utter relief filling her. “I think you may invited utter ruination upon your heads with those two."

Cassandra frowned. "What? Why?"

“What do you mean why?” she parroted with a roll of her eyes, unimpressed with what she had seen of the woman and her colleagues thus far. "Leliana’s my sister-in-law, and the Warden next to her is my fiancée, whom—might I add—you've actually succeeded in making angry.” The corners of her lips turned up into a languid smile. “Not an easy feat, and not a fate I would normally wish upon anyone.”

“Hush,” Bethany muttered as she brushed past Cassandra—all but shoving her aside with a pointed shoulder—as she knelt at Niamh’s side to begin healing the wounds she’d received from her captors. All the soldiers began backing away uneasily, especially as Leliana walked alongside her. “I’m already upset that you sent me down to the Crossroads while you went up to the Conclave alone.”

“It was the easiest way of scoping out the area," Niamh defended even as she sheepishly shrank back beneath her lover’s glare. "If the individuals we were searching for were still down in the village, you would have seen them, and if they were up at the Temple…Well, I suppose that’s a moot point now, given what our new acquaintances have just revealed to me.”

“Do you remember seeing anything at all?” Leliana asked then in concern.

“I can’t recall much of anything before the explosion.” Niamh admitted with a frown. “I thought I remembered someone screaming, but then there’s just... nothing.”

“And...” Leliana gestured toward her hand. “That mark?”

She shrugged as much as she was able to, especially given her heavy shackles. “It certainly wasn’t there when I went to the Temple.”

“What is going on here?” Cassandra demanded then, perhaps confused as to why their supposed prisoner had proven so much more forthcoming with Leliana than anyone else thus far.

“You’ve met my wife before, yes? This is her younger sister Niamh Cousland. She is also the Constable of the Grey here in Ferelden, Cassandra,” Leliana stated gravely. “While the Wardens may not regularly involve themselves in politics, Niamh’s high enough up their chain of command that this country’s branch would fight to the death to get her back, and that’s not even involving what Saoirse herself will do once she finds out her sister's been hurt.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. “Not to mention the Teyrn of Highever…”

---

After the demons upon the frozen lake had been defeated, Niamh felt the brush of a warm hand in the crook of her elbow gently pulling her back before all she could see was Bethany’s back as her lover marched right up toward Cassandra, heedless of the obvious height difference between them.

"Point your sword at her again, Seeker! Kindly test my patience right now, and see what happens!"

Niamh was mildly amused when Cassandra actually appeared to be a bit startled and had to move back a step so as to not accidentally stab the woman. The Seeker’s dark brows furrowed in confusion. "Are... Are you threatening me?"

"Only because you’ve threatened her repeatedly!” Bethany scowled. “Niamh's very life is in danger so long as that portal in the sky exists; she has no reason to put yours in harm's way. She’s made it more than abundantly clear she’s willing to cooperate even after the mistreatment she received from you and your colleagues." Amber eyes narrowed, and despite their bright depths, there was little mistaking the ice within them. "I haven’t, however, and I’ve no reason to if you’re going to blatantly ignore your own words to the contrary simply because she’s a mage."

Cassandra sheepishly sheathed her weapon. "I’m—"

"If you ever think of drawing a sword on her again, your friendship with Leliana or no, I swear it will be the last time you ever draw breath," Bethany spat, tilting her chin up defiantly. "I’ve lost enough. I will not lose her too." She turned then to hold out her hand for Niamh, allowing the first bit of tenderness to enter her expression as she called out to her. "My love..."

Niamh chuckled quietly even as she weaved her fingers through Bethany’s. “Still so quick to defend me?”

Her lover smiled. “Always.”

Afterward, Cassandra was left to follow behind the two women, who proceeded to lead the rest of the way up the mountain.

"I did tell you not to make her angry," Niamh quipped to Cassandra later upon reaching the first outpost, grinning when she earned a soft sound of disgruntlement.

---

Nothing had really prepared Bethany for the sight that greeted them upon reaching the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

There were so many bodies scattered across the immense crater, expressions twisted in permanent states of terror as they tried to guard themselves against a danger beyond all earthly imagining. Horrified with such evidence of the Breach’s power, it was then that she realized that if Niamh hadn’t somehow received the Mark, she likely would have—

"Bethany?"

She jerked in place, turning to see her lover’s concerned eyes watching her.

"It's nothing,” she mustered up with a weak smile. “I'm right behind you."

Bethany saw, however, that Niamh couldn’t be convinced, as was evident in the tender way the other woman had taken hold of her hand. Niamh said nothing else, as was always her way. She never pressed her to offer anything more than she was ready for. She sighed.

"I should have been there with you," Bethany murmured at last, looking at the strange mark still glowing upon her lover’s palm. It was nothing that even with all her healing magic can hope to fix, but Niamh merely shook her head.

"No.” She brought Bethany’s hand up to her lips to press a kiss reverently across her knuckles. “Were you there with me, I fear you would have died with everyone else," she admitted solemnly. "My heart would not have survived such devastation."

---

Bethany was beside herself with worry when Niamh fell unconscious upon the first, unsuccessful attempt to seal the Breach. Niamh was brought back to Haven to recover, but Bethany refused to leave her side despite Leliana's attempts to get her to take care of herself as well.

"Bethany—"

"You know as well as I do that your colleagues would have killed her down in the dungeons if we hadn’t arrived when we did," Bethany said flatly from where she sat by Niamh’s bedside. "Everyone in the village knows she’s a mage now, and I don’t need to remind you of how well-liked we are on a regular basis..."

"I’ll have my agents watching her. What nearly happened outside the chantry will never happen again."

Bethany bristled instantly at the memory.

---

She’d still been inside the building to relay some information regarding Saoirse to Leliana when they heard the first outraged cries beyond the doors. As the uproar grew louder in volume—all demanding the death of the one who had supposedly killed the Divine—Bethany had rushed outside immediately just in time to see civilians and more than a few soldiers attempting to stone Niamh.

Infuriated by the blatant injustice, Bethany reached over her shoulder for her staff and immediately slammed its point into the ground. At the moment of impact, a wave of force magic traveled violently across the ground, taking the mob entirely off their feet. She had been mindful to curve the energy away from Niamh—and inadvertently Cassandra, who had sidled up to aid the other mage, just as she unleashed her magic—so her lover had remained unharmed and even grateful for her arrival if her relieved smile was any indication.

Still, Bethany steeled her features to utter impassivity as she coolly strode through the crowd. Those within it seemed to be in various states of bewilderment as they tried to regain their bearings, but she took note of the many widened eyes that recognized the blues and silvers of her Warden regalia.

“You will show Ferelden’s Constable of the Grey the proper respect she is due,” Bethany said lowly as she placed herself alongside her lover, her gaze searching for any signs of rebellion to her words. “Anyone who would dare accost her in spite of her title will sorely live to regret it...”

---

"Can you really make such promises?" Bethany asked dryly.

"I can certainly try. Niamh’s family. Saoirse would never forgive me if something happened to her, especially if she knew there was anything I could have done to prevent it." She sighed. "Nor would I be able to forgive myself for that matter. Niamh’s a kind woman, and much like you—and any mage—she’s so undeserving of the treatment she often receives from others.”

---

Anyone who knows me knows that I LOVE mages; thus, it should come as no surprise that I always go to get the mages at Redcliffe as allies.

It should also go without saying that Bethany also would have gone with Niamh to deal with Alexius and the Venatori. Per the events of In Hushed Whispers, it's canon that the companions who went with you there become prisoners in the twisted, future version of Redcliffe.

While Warden mages are more susceptible to Corypheus' influence, I headcanon that Bethany was so furious with the loss of Niamh to Alexius that she fought against the mind control even to the point of torture like Leliana. When Niamh sees her in the future, Bethany's so pained, broken, and exhausted but so very thankful to see her lover again.

There's hope again—no matter how small—and Bethany's determined to help her set the world right again.

What little happiness they have at their reunion obviously doesn't last long, especially with Alexius’ death. With the Elder One beckoning at their door, Bethany goes off with the other companions to stall the demons and Venatori outside to give Dorian time to cast his spell.

I’ve always headcanoned that mages have auras unique to the type of magic they specialize in and that they’d be able to subtly influence the world around them based on their emotions. You see evidence of that a lot in OtSttCA, especially in those moments where Niamh’s angry or upset.

In any case, per my headcanon, mages would be able to sense one another although the distance at which they could detect such magic would be dependent on the senser’s overall power or their relationship with the other mage. As close as both women are, Niamh absolutely feels the moment Bethany dies... :(

---

She felt the absence of Bethany’s magic like a dagger to the heart.

It had been there, burning as bright as the sun, and then it had stuttered—dark clouds eclipsing its light—until it simply settled inside her like a dead weight. Left bereft of that familiar, constant presence that had been her very reason for breathing for so long, it was as if water had pooled into her lungs, threatening to drown her. The sensation immediately brought her to her knees, leaving her gasping for breath.

"No..." Niamh whispered out brokenly, anguish and horror overtaking her even as Leliana tried in vain to urge her back up to her feet again. She couldn't hear the other woman's concern past the shattering of her own heart. In its place was simply an aching emptiness that slowly began to consume her whole...

---

Let’s just say that Niamh’s not happy with Alexius when she and Dorian manage to return to the present...

---

The fighting between the Inquisition and rebel mages against Alexius and his Venatori was brought to an abrupt halt by the presence of the Fade rift that appeared overhead. The force with which it easily tore space and reality asunder was enough to take everyone within the audience chamber off their feet, especially as stifling heat and wind spilled from the portal along with two figures.

“Give her back..."

Bethany blearily looked up when she heard Niamh’s familiar voice, and relief filled her when she saw that she was standing beneath the now sealed rift. Even with its disappearance, however, she realized all too soon that it had done nothing to quell the storm that had now taken residence within the room, sending banners and tapestries flying with whipping gusts of wind. At its center was her lover, who was standing so still amidst the chaos around her, regarding Alexius with such apathy in her expression.

“What?" the old magister uttered in confusion, shakily rising to his feet only to have his progress nearly undone as lightning struck the ground next to him with a deafening peal of thunder.

Bethany saw how his throat undulated as he swallowed in nervous regard of the mage slowly making her way toward him. His fingers trembled with the effort to form flames between them.

"...Who gave you the right?” Niamh asked, voice as low as the rumbling thunder, as she strode toward the dais.

The pressure within the room escalated once more as an aura of absolute fire surrounded her. Like vines, they rose from the floor up in spiraling patterns before enveloping her entirely with almost playful licks of flame. Nothing in Niamh’s expression indicated the display of power was in any way exhausting to maintain whereas Alexius was already weakened from his initial spell to destroy her along with his efforts to keep the Inquisition at bay.

But it was not a woman who sought to meet him.

It was death.

As if aware of the sudden danger he was in, Alexius threw forth several barrages of fire at Niamh, but her smooth, relentless advance couldn’t be stopped. She made no attempt to even bat away the bursts of magic. If anything, the flames just seemed to absorb themselves into her. Her aura flared higher, burning more brightly beneath each attack, and as Alexius tried to back away, he inadvertently tripped himself into the throne behind him. He flinched as another peal of thunder made itself known, and as he reflexively turned his gaze to the dark storm clouds coalescing above them, he didn't see Niamh Fade-stepping forward to close the distance between them until he was choking from the fingers around his neck. With her enhanced Warden strength, Niamh was able to lift the magister off his feet entirely, leaving him to dangle helplessly.

“Who gave you the damned right to take her from me?!” she demanded.

With her cry, the fires along the sconces and the hearth behind the throne went out entirely, gone with the sudden gale of wind. As such, the only light to be seen came from the flashes of lightning above them and the fiery aura surrounding her. In the sporadic moments the room illuminated itself, there was little mistaking the utter hatred in Niamh’s eyes.

She was going to kill Alexius.

It would have been well within her right, given the magister had attacked her first within their meeting, but Bethany’s eyes widened when she saw how the staff on Niamh’s back began to rattle violently. Against the sheer heat emanating from her body, the silverite wolf head adorning the top of the staff began to melt entirely onto the floor in thick dregs of liquid while the shaft bowed and arched until it creakily bent in the middle, angling itself with the sharpness of an arrow.

Oh, no... With dread, Bethany scrambled to her feet and darted over toward Niamh. Without her staff to act as a catalyst, if Niamh burnt too much of her magic away, she could cause irreparable damage to herself and those around her.

Upon reaching her lover’s side, she placed her hands on Niamh’s face, desperately trying to draw her attention from Alexius. For a moment, nothing could sway her from trying to squeeze the life out of the magister, and she winced when she felt Niamh’s magic already begin to fluctuate erratically against her own.

"No, no, no! Look at me!” She jerked her lover’s head toward her. “Look at me, Niamh! Please!"

And as Niamh did, she watched in confusion as the woman’s expression froze. The lips that had been pulled back in a sneer of bared teeth slowly went lax, forming an ‘o’ of awe and disbelief, as recognition began to dawn in her lover’s gaze. With it, Alexius gradually slid from her grasp to collapse at her feet with desperate gulps of air, but Bethany paid him little mind. With relief, she saw Niamh’s fiery aura dissipate along with the glow of her eyes until they returned to the pale grey she adored.

"That’s it. Come back to me,” she encouraged. “Just breathe." Bethany took one of her lover’s hands in hers, placing it over her own chest, allowing Niamh to feel her breathing. “Slow and steady. Just like that.”

As each breath fell into sync with her own, Niamh's expression gradually softened into something so reverent and sweet that it almost hurt to see—as if salvation had finally blessed her—but Bethany smiled when she saw the battle rage finally leave her.

“There we are."

Niamh used her other hand to gently cradle the side of Bethany's face. “You’re still here…” she breathed, utter relief in her voice.

“Yes.” Bethany frowned in concern at her reaction. “Always."

---

When they returned to Haven, where Niamh gave her official report to her War Council, Bethany was horrified to learn all that her lover had endured from Alexius’ spell.

Afterward, Niamh suggested they spend the evening in their cabin together rather than explore the trails out the village as per usual, and Bethany didn’t object. She understood her lover’s need to reassure herself that she was still there with her—that she wasn’t simply caught in a dream that she could never wake from.

“Is... Is this okay?” Niamh asked quietly, wanting permission to seek such comfort.

Niamh was always thoughtful in everything she did for her—in bed or otherwise—and while she never treated her like glass, Bethany could count on one hand the number of times she saw her magic unfettered like in Redcliffe. She had felt subtle traces of it occasionally with their intimacy although it was usually with purposeful design—heat, ice, and tickling traces of lightning—that were meant to tease.

But rarely was it ever so close to the surface like this—a conduit of power coiled so tightly within mortal form—waiting to burst beneath Niamh’s skin.

“It’s okay,” Bethany said, gently lacing the fingers of Niamh’s marked hand in hers.

The other woman had been reluctant to let her touch it although it hadn’t shown any notable effects toward anyone—or anything thus far—save for its ability to close rifts. Still, Niamh had been skittish all the same, fearing that it might harm her.

...Or perhaps she believed it was a damning mark of shame—of guilt—much like it had been when the people of Haven had attempted to stone her to death.

---

“There’s no denying that this mark is tied to the Breach. You saw the wreckage at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. You saw how many people died, and I still can’t even remember what happened before or after that moment beyond waking up in the dungeons. What if I did do something to cause that explosion?”

“If you had, it would not have been intentional,” Bethany insisted with a frown. “The mark is unlike anything we’ve ever seen, yes, but that you bear it all does not mean you were the one who created it.”

But Niamh couldn’t be swayed as she paced back and forth before the hearth of their cabin. “How can you be so certain?” she murmured.

“Because I’ve known you for years, Niamh. You would never purposely hurt anyone without provocation. Trust in me if you can’t yet trust in yourself.”

---

With permission given, Bethany found herself gently laid out against their bed as Niamh sought to touch and bring her pleasure all throughout the night.

Over the years, she’d become remarkably acclimated to Niamh’s magic that felt so much like a forest caught beneath a winter storm of ice and lightning. It was normally as calm as it was now—crisp as the first intake of breath beneath a cool dawn—but there were times where it could be provoked. The incident in the audience chamber was proof enough of that, where it had settled over them all like the tolling bells of judgment—an inevitability inviting the nascent danger of death.

Bethany had been beyond concerned when she had seen the first bits of viridian energy springing across her lover’s eyes then. There had been an almost disturbing beauty to them—a ring of vines gathering just at the outside perimeter of silvery irises—but that they had pulsed in time with the mark upon Niamh’s hand...

Bethany had feared for her, especially when it seemed to flare all the brighter with the fury that had overtaken her.

She was glad to see no evidence of that now as Niamh laid contentedly next to her. Even though Niamh was sated at last—the burning, restless energy within the other mage having finally simmered down to faint embers—she seemed reluctant to drift off into sleep. Winter-grey eyes continued to lazily rove across her face and form, as if cataloguing every detail less she forget later.

In response, Bethany reached out to tangle her fingers through the dark mane of tousled hair, letting her nails gently rake across her lover’s scalp. Pale eyes had widened imperceptibly at the sensation, but like always, they soon became half-lidded with the soothing nature of it. She heard the quiet hum of disgruntlement, as if protesting the notion of Bethany’s attempts to lull her to sleep against her silent vigil, but she merely shushed her.

“Shh… Rest, my love. I’ll still be here in the morning when you wake.”

---

And that’s basically it.

Again, since this is still in its rough draft phase, it’s not as polished as I’d like it to be, but I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, leave me a like, comment, or send some love to my inbox! Until next time, dear readers!

#Dragon Age: Inquisition #bethany hawke #female warden/bethany hawke #fanfic #My writing #OTP: In Search of Silver Linings #lee's au ideas #female cousland/bethany hawke

24 notes · View notes

lalosalamcnca · 3 years

Text

The Originals 1x09-1x16 Review

So I watched TVD during quarantine last year, and even though I swore to never watch another Julie Plec show again, I’m giving TO a chance! I thought I’d share my thoughts, let people know whether Plec has disappointed me again or how much I love Rebekah Mikaelson. You can also find my 1x02-1x08 review on my blog.

1x09

No one looks happy to be at Klaus’s dinner lmaoo

I knew the waiters would be the food…I hate that it looks so cool

Ooh so Marcel picked up the coin for a reason!! I should’ve known that it was part of a bigger plan

KLAUS IS GOING TO KILL ALL THE WEREWOLVES?! These people really get put through the ringer

So who’s still in the coffins?? Why bother keeping them around if Kol and Finn are dead?? (Even if they do come back, I still don’t see the logic)

I admire Cami’s resourcefulness, she’s definitely good at working around Klaus’s compulsion

Klaus, don’t call Davina an artist…she can’t draw

Clearly I underestimated the humans!! That’s my bad lol

WOAH MARCEL IS DONE WITH DIPLOMACY, GOING IN FOR THE KILL

Davina is really not intimidating at all

Not sure what Hayley’s plan is for her, Davina and Josh…maybe they want to play scrabble or bake beignets

FATHER KIERAN, YOU’RE JUST GOING TO LEAVE CAMI WHEN SHE’S CLEARLY DISTRAUGHT?!

I hope that human general gets killed first

Looks like my wish came true!

A co-leadership between Klaus and Marcel? I can’t see this ending well

Klaus and Hayley’s relationship is definitely getting interesting, I like their dynamic

Clearly Josh is the only person who isn’t trying to use Davina

And now Davina’s realized that she’s been played by Marcel…

Klamille is really drawing me in….still, I think she should leave

Oh yeah, Hayley definitely wants a kiss from Elijah

So…I guess Tyler just dipped?

AWW KLAUS FORGAVE ELIJAH

1X10

REBEKAH IN TIME PERIOD CLOTHING…I LOVE

Ok, Rebekah’s French was at least better than Klaus’s counting

OF COURSE ELIJAH WOULD WALK IN WHEN HAYLEY’S BASICALLY WEARING A WEDDING DRESS

Surely Marcel or Klaus could easily listen in on Rebekah and Hayley’s conversation??

My crackship partnering up together…I like it

FINALLY we’re checking back in on the witches, wtf have they been doing this whole time

DIGGING UP CELESTE’S GRAVE?! Very cruel and disrespectful

Tim’s back! He’s probably gonna suffer or maybe die

OH COME ON, SURELY THOSE VAMPIRES HEARD HAYLEY DIDN’T GO UPSTAIRS

NOW I’M DEFINITELY UP FOR A REBEKAH AND DAVINA TEAMUP, GIVE IT TO ME

This is a really smart move, showing Davina the garden and how Marcel can be cruel

Yup, makes sense that Klaus had an insurance for whether Davina lives or dies

Father Kieran, really?! Sean’s death is really not that complicated

Clearly Elijah and Marcel should be the ones running NOLA

Danielle Campbell is a pretty good actress, I definitely felt her pain when Tim died

Wow, those are supremely terrible drawings…you think that evil would look a lot nicer

Ah yes, I’m sure the whole world will totally believe that vampires exist, Cami

Did not expect Rebekah to be talking to Thierry

I’M TOTALLY UP FOR REBEKAH MANAGING AN EMPIRE

Wow, so Davina actually drew something somewhat good

1x11

Wow Davina went right in with attacking Marcel

“Poisoning [Davina’s] one true love” well this isn’t going to age well

ELIJAH LOOKS SO DISAPPOINTED ABOUT HAYLEY FINDING CELESTE’S GRAVE, I really can’t blame him

Hayley is really just being shunted off to the sidelines

MARCEL, COME ON, IM SORRY BB BUT I THINK THE HARVEST RITUAL HAS TO BE FINISHED

Looks like we’re entering the water stage…

I’m glad that Marcel is learning from his mistakes

ESTHER’S BONES ARE BEING CONSECRATED, GUESSED IT AS SOON AS ELIJAH SAID THERE’S ANOTHER WITCH

I like that quote, “kill a demon today, meet the devil tomorrow”

Davina’s eyebrows look so nice

Poor Davina, quite a brutal death

I feel for Sophie Deveraux too, all alone

CMD is giving a great performance!! I ACTUALLY TEARED UP A LITTLE

HAYLIJAH, JUST KISS…GREAT, THEY DIDN’T AND NOW IM ANNOYED

Yeah, you definitely don’t give Rebekah enough credit, Klaus

LOOKS LIKE WE GOT SOME NEW WITCHES BACK FROM THE DEAD

SABINE HAS BEEN CELESTE FOR A YEAR WHATT, WHY DIDN’T I SEE IT COMING

1x12

Whatever this witchy ritual is, it looks fun

Elijah in this 1920s suit…AND THE GELLED HAIR…JULIE IS REALLY KILLING ME HERE

Oh come on, Klaus, let Marcel grieve Davina

Ofc my girl Rebekah is being smart about the witches, this is why I love her

Elijah, Klaus is doing THE BARE MINIMUM. I’m sorry but it’s true, it’s been 1000 years, it’s not a bad thing to be harder on him

WHAT’S HAPPENING TO MY GIRL BEKAH

I literally forgot about Hayley…

THE REASON FOR HAYLEY AND ELIJAH NOT HANGING OUT SOUNDS SO CHILDISH LOLL

Marcel’s right, Klaus is pretty indestructible, Cami won’t even make a dent

REBEKAH IN A 1920s DRESS…LITERALLY SO GORGEOUS

Marcel looks so cute with his clean-shaven, soldier look

FINALLY Elijah found Rebekah

Ngl, I like the father-son references about Klaus and Marcel…they’re kind of heartwarming

So what if you were to try to stomp on a candle that’s involved in a spell? Would it work or would you just bounce right off it?

Klaus looks kinda jealous of Cami and Marcel….I like it

MARCEL BROUGHT TUNDE INTO TOWN FOR REBEKAH WHATTT

Oh Klaus…really, take a leadership course or something

OH SHIT, TUNDE MADE IT TO THE GARDEN

OOOH, I THOUGHT CELESTE WAS THE FINAL OFFERING BUT IT’S ACTUALLY TUNDE…VERY EXCITING

1x13

OMG, IS MONIQUE ALIVE?!

I love that both Marcel and Klaus were watching Cami

Marcel has great sass too, Marbekah is clearly a perfect match

Great, Father Kieran’s been hexed too…this man cannot catch a break

Surely Elijah suspects that Sabine is Celeste? He should know her characteristics and mannerisms

The witches are putting A LOT of faith in Cami, what if she ends up handing over the blade?

WOW, I LITERALLY PREDICTED IT…unless it’s a fake

I SEE JACKSON

THE GUY WALKING IN NAKED ON REBEKAH IM LAUGHING

MONIQUE’S EYES ARE FREAKING ME OUT, MAYBE SHE’S BEING CREEPY ON PURPOSE

YAYY REBEKAH’S HAVING FUN DANCING AWW

I’m happy that these werewolves get to have fun, they deserve it

The music coming in…they’re already setting up the Hayley x Jackson ship

The baby bump is so confusing, I feel like it’s been inconsistent

OH YES ELIJAH FIGURED IT OUT ABOUT CELESTE

Oh no, Elijah’s been hexed

I love that all this shit is going on and Klaus is just hanging out in a church with Cami and Father Kieran

Loved? I would not venture as far as to say that Elijah loves Hayley

SOPHIE STABBED KLAUS HOLY SHIT

Could the werewolves really have taken the vampires?? We’ve already established that vampires are stronger

I’m sorry, this whole arranged marriage thing is not as romantic as they’re making it out to be

WHY AM I NOT SURPRISED THAT REBEKAH HAS BEEN PLAYED YET AGAIN BY A MAN

There’s something fitting about an old plantation burning in a fire

I actually liked Sophie, she tried so hard to get Monique back and all so she could die…

The witches are honestly horrible, Bonnie Bennett supremacy

1x14

My poor Rebekah going through all this hardship

Rebekah looks amazing as a nurse, she looks good in everything

Elijah unbuttoning his shirt, I approve

Don’t be afraid to examine him too closely, Hayley…I know I would

1920s Marbekah are definitely cute

I’m loving this recovering Klaus look

I’m LIVING for this Elijah and Marcel team up!!!

MY BABY BEKS IS GETTING BEAT DOWN, SOMEBODY SAVE HER

I’m guessing Clara was that friend of Genevieve’s, the other nurse

I KNEW IT, I WAS RIGHT ABOUT CLARA

I do feel bad for Klaus, a betrayal like that….even if Klaus has treated Rebekah badly, it’s clear that calling Mikael is next level

THE FAMOUS REBEKAH SCREAM

I admit, Celeste’s plan is pretty smart in unravelling the Mikaelson family

Ok, that’s a pretty terrible way for Genevieve and “Clara” to die

Klaus has such nice cheekbones

YEAHH HAYLEY HELPING OUT HER FAMILY

WHEN WILL REBEKAH BE HAPPY AGAIN CMONNN

Damn this klebekah chemistry

Elijah once again proving why he’s my favourite Mikaelson man

1x15

YAY we’re back in a flashback

These Mikaelson men look so hot in these 1920s outfits

Well, Elijah’s right about Cami being the best person to greet Klaus

HELL YEAH, FINALLY WE SEE HAYLEY AND THE WOLVES IN ACTION

Idk who plays Sabine/Celeste but she’s doing a great job

Oh Rebekah…by bringing Mikael to town, you basically ruined your own happiness…

Mikael looks very classy in his 1920s outfit

Not a great plan if Klaus has already sniffed out what Rebekah and Marcel plan to do

That grimoire page looked so ratty…the text barely looked legible, how can Monique read the instructions

I find it ironic that Mikael calls Klaus an abomination, even though the witches say the same about vampires

That is literally so awkward, Haylijah’s having their moment and Celeste is just hanging out beside them

Why is Hayley walking away? Where’s she going?

Celeste is VERY cunning, her plans are top notch

Damn, Joe’s acting…Klaus’s face when Mikael came over, like he could sense him

Wow, Mikael is PURE EVIL

Oh damn, Celeste is dead

SHITT, MONIQUE AND ELIJAH OUTSMARTED CELESTE, DID NOT SEE THAT COMING, I FORGOT ABOUT MONIQUE

The eyes are less creepy now that I know Monique’s motives

DAVINA’S BACK!!!

Klaus found Rebekah…looks like we’re about to get a showdown

1x16

Little Rebekah and Klaus are so adorable

Klaus’s amber eyes and black veins are so fkn cool

Father Kieran is right, Klaus will be a lot less merciless to Marcel

I love that Klaus is posing on a grave and doing a mock trial

REBEKAH COMING IN WITH SOME VALID AND HURTFUL POINTS

ELIJAH HAS BOTH WEAPONS OH DAMN

Klaus can be mad, I get that, but he played a part in bringing Mikael to town. He’d constantly kill Rebekah’s suitors, mistreat her, judge her way too often, everyone reaches a breaking point

Davina’s right, she’s back to being used and if anything she’s in more danger now than before

Klaus, don’t insult Elijah’s suits. They’re tasteful, and not everyone can pull it off

FANTASTIC. ELIJAH’S BEEN STABBED BY THE TUNDE BLADE. MY FAVES ARE SUFFERING

SO KLAUS BASICALLY PUSHES REBEKAH TO ADMIT SHE WANTED HIM DEAD, AND THEN HE’S SAD WHEN SHE DOES. WHAT DID U EXPECT

THANK GOD Rebekah isn’t dead

Oh klebekah…I can see the chemistry but I don’t want to

CLAIRE AND JOE’S ACTING IS ON POINT

Where is Hayley?? I’ve forgotten about her

Rebekah and Elijah’s relationship is too precious

I have a bad feeling about this Marcel and Klaus meeting

ELIJAH THROWING MARCEL AND EXILING HIM, DEFINITELY DIDN’T EXPECT THAT

Marcel seems to be complying…? I’m sure he won’t though

Klaus needs to go feel the baby kick or read some pregnancy books, de-stress or something

GODDAMNIT, WHY CAN’T MARCEL JUST GO WITH REBEKAH…I get why he can’t leave, but still

MY CRACKSHIP SAYING GOODBYE, and finally we know where Hayley is

Auntie Bex is such a cute name aww

You’d think that Klaus would be wondering about Hayley by now

Goodbye Rebekah, I’m gonna miss you

1x17-1x22 coming soon! Please, DO NOT POST SPOILERS OR HATE COMMENTS. I don’t expect people to agree with my opinions, but being rude is not going to get me to change mine. I haven’t seen the show before, my opinions are probably going to change over time as I keep watching. If you want longer notes on any of the episodes, please ask or message me, I’d be happy to share them.

33 notes · View notes

meowdymista · 4 years

Text

Van der Driscoll

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Warnings; injury, Micah, angst

Part 2 & Masterlist

Redrafted and continuing on AO3

Notes: There hasn’t been an abundance of fic floating around (and what has been published is making my arthur head explode with love), so I figured I might as well throw out this old thing I thought I would finish but never went back to. I submitted a fic request to @the-awkward-outlaw who took a much less angsty approach. This is far from perfect, but eh

******

You swallow the blood filling your mouth, but it does nothing to wet your throat. A dozen faces have thrown you dirty looks mixed with confusion and apprehension. The cowboy that brought you here on the back of his horse has been retained in the large tent - which in turn is on the other side of the cart to where you’ve been bound.

You’ve been trying to eavesdrop, but all you’ve made out is bickering, scolding and multiple hushed insults aimed at you. Whenever Arthur begins to raise his voice, someone comes from around the cart to spit at you or kick your feet.

Closing your eyes does nothing to help your headache, nor the sting of the bullet wound in your side. Your tongue is repeatedly drawn to an unusual sharpness inside your cheek, making you wonder if the mexican broke a tooth when he smashed the handle of his gun into your face. Not that it matters. You were surprised you weren’t already dead, but still lacked any doubt of seeing another sunrise.

“What are you doing, O’Driscoll?”

You open your eyes in time to see a heavy bearded man grab a smaller man by the arm. The slosh of water hitting the grass is heaven, but also draws out the dire thirst in your throat as it's lost to the ground.

“N-nothin’, Bill.”

“Are you in on this? You set us up?”

“No! No, of course n-not! I’ve never even met her-”

“You gonna free her so she can slit our throats in the night?”

“No, sir! No! I was just-” He grunts as the man called Bill punches him in the stomach. A woman shouts and runs over, but Bill is stalking away into the trees, still growling threats at nobody in particular.

“I’m fine, Miss Gaskill," croaks the somewhat familiar man.

“Are you sure? He didn’t need to hit you!”

“I-I was comin’ over to see her. I jus’ wanted to know if she’s ok - bein’ tied to that tree, well, it ain’t no nice thing, Miss Gaskill.”

“I know, but Dutch is talkin’ with Arthur about it now. I don’t reckon they’ll keep a woman there as long as they did you.”

“I hope not.” The pair give you a forlorn look and disappear to the other side of the cart. You close your eyes again, trying to distract yourself from the memory of fresh cold water sliding down your throat.

You must fall asleep, because when the boots come into view your neck is stiff and the horizon is brightening the ink of the sky. You try to look up, but the muscles in your neck decide otherwise.

“What were you doing there?”

You try to speak but your throat is too dry to even cough. A hand reaches down and lifts your chin firmly. Arthur’s face is without humour, and his brow the lowest you’ve seen it. You inhale sharply as his lips thin with impatience.

“You been with’em this whole time?” You shake your head instinctively, but he catches your hesitation and releases your face with a grunt of disgust. “Shit.”

You close your eyes again, trying to ignore the crackle of his stubble as he rubs a hand along his jaw. A lump is rising in your throat, but you try to swallow it. Now is not the time to be showing weakness, but the deep sense of betrayal is suffocating you.

“You been-? Too?” you manage to choke.

“I been what?”

“Van der Linde,” you hiss, forcing your head up to glare at him.

He scoffs and shakes his head, turning on his heel and stalking away. You hear a frail voice call after him, but you don’t care anymore. The tall broad frame of Dutch Van der Linde himself is marching towards you with a thin frail frame of a man following closely behind.

“-be easy on him, Dutch. He thought he was doing the right thing.”

“You are both getting far too soft!” You yelp as Dutch pulls you to your feet, the restraints burning around your wrists. “Since when did Colm hire women to do his dirty work?” You snicker, but a slap across your face cuts it short.

“He’s always had working women in camp,” you manage to gasp through the blossoming stars. “Not like you, though. He doesn’t keep them round.”

“I mean as gunslingers. That’s what you are, ain’t it?”

“He doesn’t.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t?" he scoffs. "How’d you fall in with them?”

The thin man steps forward, scrutinising your mess of a face.“You a spy? A lookout of sorts?”

You force yourself to withhold the hysteria bubbling inside of you. “You think Colm has thought of using spies?”

“I think Colm is always thinking of ways to catch us out,” growls Dutch. “It’s more a matter of what we do with you now we have you.”

“Just kill me already.” After all, it would be easier. Arthur’s look of disgust turns your stomach and not just from guilt. If you had known, you would have steered clear or even shot him there and then.

You can almost hear the men musing in front of you. Bird song is beginning to erupt as well as life elsewhere in the camp.

“Is that what you want, Y/N?”

The sound of your name jolts through you. Your gang had never used it because you had never made it known to them. This was a man’s world, and the only way to protect yourself had been to become one.

So you had. You’d bound your chest, cut your hair and changed your clothes. Before the camp woke, you would use the ash from the fire to disguise your soft jaw and thicken your brows in addition to mascara from your past life. Escaping for a few days to hunt was an excuse to bathe and become yourself again. Packing your things into your saddle bag, you made a stop in a stream off the road to wash your face and change clothes. It was the only way you could guarantee yourself some solitude when O’Driscolls were so plentiful in the local area. Any enemies you had made would ride by you as you rested or hunted game.

It was after a bath you had first seen him. He had been trying to de-escalate an argument with the hotel owner - something about him beating a man who had hurt a friend of his. Seeing your wet hair curling over your shoulders, he had given you a nod.

“They run good baths here?” he asked.

“They run ‘em hot and private enough."

He had immediately set down a coin. “I’ll have what she had.” When advised of the wait, he had waved his hand. “If this lady reckons it’s worth it, I can wait.”

That had been weeks ago. It felt a lot longer, but multiple brushes with death every day made everything count that much more. You had brushed off rumours of Van der Lindes in the area. How bad could they be compared with the headless chickens you ran around with? After riding out with Colm to scope a new camp, you had returned to Cumberland Forest to find everyone slaughtered. Any stragglers were shot on sight. How could they be any worse than what you were already with?

“I don’t know, Dutch. She’s a woman.”

“She’s an O’Driscoll!” Your body was too tired to flinch as he got up in your face, trying to intimidate you. “Whether Colm knew it or not.”

“What do you want to do with her? We can’t let her go, not now.”

“Suppose we could always kill her. Or better yet, get Kieran to do it.”

Hosea shakes his head. “I don’t think that will go down too well.”

“How else are we supposed to deal with her? We already have enough mouths to feed, plus another O’Driscoll in camp is begging for trouble.”

Your mind wanders back to Arthur’s look of disdain. The hatred was on a different spectrum to the crinkle of his eyes when he had found you again in the saloon. The cold that rolled off him was nothing like the heat of his hand when it had brushed yours on the ledge overlooking Valentine. You’re too angry with yourself to worry about the outcome. Even if they let you go, Colm will make sure you’re strung up for deceiving them. All your things are back at camp, and you know you won’t be able to bind your chest again for another few weeks with the wound in your side.

You lean your head back against the trunk and close your eyes again, ignoring their chatter but still unable to stop a tear leak down your cheek as they walk away.

***

The smell of food makes your stomach growl, but you ignore it. A small boy walks past staring at you openly, but his mother ushers him away with an air of distrust. You can’t blame her; you know the O’Driscoll’s are nowhere near as reserved as this gang when it comes to robbing and killing. You had heard them boasting about a stage they’d intercepted, filled with women and children. Apparently they weren’t the first to stop them, but they were the first to go all out and rob them.

You knew at the retelling of the stories that it was best to remain a man.

“Who do we have here?” A sinister chuckle rolls you out of your thoughts. The first thing you notice is the thick handlebar moustache, followed by the thin curtains of blond curls from under his white hat. His sneer makes your blood run cold, and you are tied too tight to move your face out of his reach. His long fingers stroke along your jaw. “I gotta say, this set up?” He steps forward, his lips almost brushing your ear. “It’s working for me.”

You squeak as a knife thuds into the wood above your head. The stranger steps back, and scoffs.

“Didn't your daddy tell you not to play with knives, Morgan?” He reaches up and pulls it out, playing it between his fingers. His grey green gaze transfixing you, the cool blade touches your chin, forcing you to lift your head and expose your jugular. “Don’t want anyone to get hurt now, do we, cowpoke?”

The humour is replaced with irritation at the click of a gun being cocked. He lowers the knife, and you realise you had stopped breathing.

“Try me, Micah,” Arthur growls, his revolver pointing at his temples.

Chuckling, he steps back from you and approaches his new target. “Sorry, didn’t realise you was practising your white knight act with Guinevere, here.” He throws you a look over his shoulder, looking you up and down and licking his lips. “I’ll be back, princess. Save some for me, hey?”

A gunshot rips through the camp. You’re breathless, blinking rapidly trying to work out where the bullet has entered your body, if you’re still alive. It takes all of ten seconds for you to realise Arthur had fired his shot into the sky.

You feel the rope tying your wrists together tugging up and down as Dutch storms around the corner with his entourage.

“What in God’s name are you playing at?” he spits as your hands suddenly fall free.

Arthur has already gripped your arm and is dragging you away from the crowd. You stumble, your legs having forgotten how to move themselves after days. You are dumbstruck as he reties your hands in front of you and hoists you onto a cart.

"I didn't bring her here for her to be Micah's plaything."

"What are you talking about, Arthur?" Dutch splutters. "Micah has been back all of two minutes-"

"I know I ain't put y'all in the easiest position bringing her back here, so jus' lemme take care of it, aight?"

Hosea walks forward, surveying you gently. "She can't go free. Not with the Pinkertons after us."

"I know," he growls, retying your hands to your legs to prevent you running off despite your lack of effort. “Don’t I goddamn know it...”

The old man reaches out to touch his arm. "Stay safe, Arthur.”

“Not you again!” you had teased as he waved a lazy salute in your direction.

“Any recommendations?” he asked, nodding at your plate. You shrugged and he ordered the same, bringing you over a fresh beer and sitting at your table.

“Fancy seeing you here, Mr Morgan.”

He smiled and removed his hat, running his hands through his hair. "I'm always in here, me."

"How odd… I seem to remember you getting barred for life a few weeks ago?"

"Ah, well. The bartender's a reasonable man." He shrugged, embarrassed as you laughed at him. "Can't say the same for that Tommy guy."

The sparkle in his eye has long gone. Not that you're looking at him, you're too busy trying to take in the smell of the trees and the birdsong, trying to ignore the fear in your thoughts. Who knows how he intends to kill you? Or where he will dump your body afterwards. What does it matter - no one is going to come looking for you. The O'Driscoll's mind their own and even if they did recognise you, you'd be strong up for treason. If the law recognise your identity, they'll consider it a blessing. You are on your own, restrained in a caravan with your captor.

"Why didn't you let your friends kill me?" you hear yourself ask.

His silence is stoic. You begin to wonder if you didn't say it out loud after all when he finally clears his throat.

"I couldn't."

"Why not?" You laugh, looking around. "Would've been easier than killing me out here - at least at my camp I was just another body from a gang fight. Out here you'll start a murder investigation."

"I ain't killin' yer." He throws you a sideways glance as you blink in disbelief. "Not yet at least."

"You just said-"

"What does it matter what I said?" He scoffs. "Like you're one to talk, Y/N."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You can feel the heat growing in your ears as you scowl.

"What do you think it means?" he snaps. Flicking the reins, he takes a steadying breath. "Why were you running with the O'Driscolls?"

"Why are you running with Dutch Van der Linde?"

"Tha's different!"

"Why?"

"Because I've spent my life runnin' with him an' the same can't be said for you if Colm doesn't know he's running with a woman yet." He scoffs. "He ain't ever taken kindly to surprises."

"You talk like you know him."

"I did for a while." He shoots you a look. "Way back when. How long you been runnin' with them? Since you don't know the history and you ain't been found out yet, I reckon five, six months?"

"Seven," you hiss. His brooding has relented enough to exude smugness and it's grating on you that he is still damn attractive.

"You gonna tell me why? Coz I ain't askin' a third time."

"Why does anyone become an outlaw? I needed money. It was only gonna be temporary but my cousin got shot up in that Blackwater massacre so I had to stay."

"Your cousin?"

"Yeah, Heidi. Your ol' Dutch should know her well."

#rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fic #arthur x female reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur Morgan #arthur morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x O'Driscoll

106 notes · View notes

bonniearden · 4 years

Note

hiii bonnie! I'd love a match-up if possible ((: I'm straight, 5'7 and slightly curvy with shoulder length light brown hair w a fringe and green eyes. I'm p shy in groups but one on one I won't stop talking haha. I really love art and animals. I'm p active bcs I work with horses so I'm big on the outdoors! I can be pretty sarcastic and have no problem matching other people's sarcasm, although I am a sucker for anyone who gives me an ounce of loving attention ): Thank you sm for this! ♥️

‘Course! I just want to apologize for taking so long to put out these requests. A lot happened at home these past few weeks, so I had a hard time balancing time. Nevertheless, here it is. Hope you enjoy, please stay safe.

I pair you with...

Kieran Duffy!

-Boy, oh boy. You’ve rounded his heart, you did.

-Being shoved around by plenty of the camp dwellers, Kieran was put at ease to see someone who also felt a bit hesitant in large groups of people. Your initially timid front made him gravitate towards you--it’s the atmosphere he needed, really.

-Then my, my he was in for a shocker. At first he stalled, was surprised rather, if not just a little bit overwhelmed at your rapid speech. He turned red, tried to catch up, no longer used to someone this doting.

-But as Kieran calmed down his nerves and actually took in your words--he couldn’t lie, he truly missed holding a conversation with someone that wasn’t out to spit dirt on his name.

-The fact that you were into nature and horses allowed you both to find some good common ground. It was something you both could relate deeply on.

-Eventually, the man saw your willingness to talk less intimidating. He discovered the many interests you had in common and was all the more anchored into you. Less nervous. It was like second nature, how quickly he found himself crawling out of his shell. He beamed.

-You two would bond over these interests, sharing tips, telling stories that you both could understand. The walks outdoors were the best. Either of you could tell as you trotted over the prairies that there was this shared respect and genuine admiration for the outdoors--and soon, for each other as well.

-But not only did you posses a lot in common! You introduced him to art as well. Something he hasn’t really had much exposure to. It took him a while to start appreciating it, but seeing your passion actually propelled him to trying something new.

-And it helps him, knowing that people still had time to spare for drawing or painting and creating. It’s something he couldn’t understand, but it gave Kieran a fresher perspective nonetheless. One time you caught him doodling your horse, and you laughed a bit before joining him. (he keeps the page that you both filled up with sketchy charicatures)

-Becoming one of the few people he could genuinely bond with in camp, Kieran was glad to see you didn’t mind whenever he came by to simply try and strike conversation for once. He felt less lonely with you, and definitely more at ease to know you enjoyed the attention.

-THaT Sarcasm! Boi. Contrary to popular belief, Kieran can stand up for himself--even if he is pushed around. The man can be assertive at times. But he absolutely felt both flattered and thankful whenever you would wittily spit sarcasm under your breath at the other camp members who would tease him.

-You usually gained the upper hand as others didn’t expect that from you.

-Sooner or later, that habit of yours wears off on him--and Kieran finds himself being just a little bit more outspoken.

-Knowing that you had each other’s backs gave you both a certain ease that helped build a stronger sense of self-confidence.

-Being thrown around from group to group, outlaw to outlaw. Van der Linde to O’Driscoll, Kieran felt a bit lost, having only his affinity for taking care of horses as his only anchor.

-But he began to realize just how much he felt more like himself around you. Meeting you made him see himself as neither Kieran Van der Linde or O’Driscoll. He was simply Kieran Duffy--experiencing that epiphany made him warm to the core.

-He felt happy.

-And in turn, the man often hoped and tried to make you happy too.

-Long before you guys became a pair, you were his friend first. And that’s all he could ask for.

(p.s: when you got together he loved hugging you. poor bby boi also secretly loves affection.)

#rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 matchups #kieran duffy #ask away #anon #kieran duffy x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 headcanons

22 notes · View notes

thereinafter · 4 years

Text

Letter for Chocolate Box 2020 (cut for major wall of text; fandoms I requested are Dragon Age, Tortall, Darkest Dungeon, Original Work)

Hello, dear chocolatier, thanks for creating something for me! I’m thereinafter (isyche) on AO3.

I like both fic (any rating you want to write) and art (gen or romance or implied sex fine, no explicit porn), Prompts below are copied from my signup, followed by a long general likes list and then DNWs.

Dragon Age

Cassandra/Leliana: I love them and their long history/intimidating outsides/romantic insides/right hand-left hand balance a lot. some prompt ideas: a) on a mission pre-DAI and some forced-intimacy or h/c trope pushes them to admit/act on feelings b) escalating personal notes attached to official reports c) sneaked moments away from Skyhold d) fighting back to back e) either one convincing the other to take a break and do something fun, in her own way. Or anything from my likes list you find inspiring, get-together or established. For art: I’d love them being romantic or formidable together however you want to draw it.

Leliana/Josephine: I also love their history and friendship, and how Josephine can potentially light up Leliana’s tendency to darkness, and also how Leliana is playful with/protective of her. There are a lot of established-relationship missing-scene type scenarios I’d like for them, e.g., an excursion to Val Royeaux from Skyhold, a dance together at Halamshiral, Josie waiting up for Leliana to finish spy business, distracting each other from frustrating work, managing difficult guests. Or being drawn back together when Josie comes to the Inquisition after having been in the past. Or, again, anything else from my likes you’re into. I’d be delighted by art of them as well, if you want to illustrate any of these ideas or just draw them being cute.

and some gen ideas I’ve thought about recently and would like to read:

Cassandra & Vivienne: Since Vivienne is a knight-enchanter and thus technically a melee fighter, I’m curious about how and where she trains or has in the past for that, and I’d be interested to see her and Cassandra bond in some way through testing themselves against each other.

Female Hawke & Leliana & Morrigan: These three could have all potentially met in Lothering before the Blight, so write me something about that? Maybe they all get into a scrape together and have to cooperate? Maybe it was caused by Hawke’s or Morrigan’s magic?

Morrigan & Sera: I once drew Morrigan being amused by Sera stealing templar breeches and ever since I’ve kind of wanted that fic. Morrigan is entertained by Sera’s pranks on targets she dislikes and offers to help? Sera is suspicious/scared of her but eventually decides she’s all right? (Sera makes friends with Kieran?)

Tortall

Keladry of Mindelan & Baby Griffin: Having recently read the Kel books, I was really charmed by her heroic efforts to care for the griffin baby until its parents are found, and I’d like a little fic exploring that more, or maybe it coming back to find her later on? Daine and/or Alanna could be involved too if you like. I also am pretty sure this would make for adorable art.

Darkest Dungeon

I feel like there are potential stories around a lot of the mechanics in this game: the quirks and stress and breakdowns and need to recover through drinking or sex or gambling or religion, the weird trinkets and cultist groups, why new adventurers keep showing up to get fed into the dungeon. So, with this fandom I’m interested in fic playing with those things and building on what’s implied in the game (or art along those lines illustrating some offscreen scene, or creating a shippy moment).

I picked these three pairings because I thought they made for interesting dynamics, but if you want to include other characters or enemies, go for it (and use whatever names you want).

Antiquarian/Grave Robber: bonding over an interest in treasure and desire to stay alive and out of the melee? Getting lost on an unadvised side trip in the ruins?

Arbalest/Shieldbreaker: Arbalest takes Shieldbreaker under her wing and tries to cover her in combat/patch her up/help with her nightmares?

Hellion/Vestal: opposites attract, Vestal has impure thoughts about Hellion, and/or healer/fighter h/c?

Original Work

I pictured all of these in fantasy settings when nominating them, but some could also work as SF/space opera or historical.

Female Adventurer Lost in the Snow/Female Fire Spirit: Obviously she needs warming up, however you want to take that (does the spirit warm her and let her go like a grateful one night stand? Or a darker take where the woman lets the spirit consume her and make her one of them? or both at different times in her life?)

Female Armorsmith/Female Warrior Who Needs Frequent Repairs: This could go in either a funny “why do you come in here so much” or an angsty “why do you get hurt so often” direction and I’d like either (or both).

Female Knight/Female Bath Attendant with a Crush: I like knights and requited crushes and the sort of caretaking involved in baths, and would be happy with any cute/romantic or comfort/solace or sexy take on this combination.

Female Court Painter/Impatient Princess Sitting for a Painting: Maybe the princess is a flirty rake and the painter is a serious type with no time for her nonsense but secretly charmed, or vice versa? Or they keep falling out over how the portrait should go and then making up? Or they're in a secret relationship and the impatience is because it's the only time they can see each other?

Grumpy Lonely Sorceress/Female Courtesan She Hires for a Ritual: I pictured this as a lighthearted story where the situation starts awkward and ends more fun than expected for them. Why does the sorceress need to try this particular ritual/spell? (unexpectedly necessary for something she’s researching?) does it succeed? do they decide to collaborate again? up to you.

Anchoress/Woman Outside Her Cell: I’d be happy with either a historical medieval setting or a fantasy/SF invented religion. Here for the pining and inability to touch that the premise suggests; would prefer a hopeful ending to a super bleak one.

-----------

General likes (mainly a fic-oriented list, but if you do art for me and want to incorporate something here, great):

In case you want more inspiration in addition to the above. Take from it as you wish, all these things are good alone or combined

for both gen and shipfic: Lighthearted (romantic or friendship) fluff and humor Glimpses of how the characters manage everyday life stuff in canons where the focus is more on big dramatic events Canon divergence AUs in the “what if x event in canon turned out differently” sense Casefic if the characters do cases or missions or short adventures Epistolary or “found documents” stories, and other unconventional story structures Time loop stories, Rashomon-style stories, and other kinds of variations on a theme (including “five times” fic) Worldbuilding/exploration of the canon world and backstory, especially parts unexplored in the canon; also, in-universe stories, songs, mythologies, histories, etc. Holidays and celebrations and balls, masquerade or not, and dancing, romantic or not Characters doing things in disguise, whether they’re good or bad at it Heists and rescues/jailbreaks Court plotting, intrigue, spying Road or sea trips/wilderness survival situations Swordfights, duels, tournaments, sparring, training for all kinds of fighting Characters making things for others, whether it’s art or music or crafting or food or magic or whatever, and giving gifts Artists (in any art form), artistic rivalries, artist/muse dynamics, artists inspiring each other Competence and being very good at what they do (but perhaps awkward or lost in other contexts); relatedly, learning/practicing new skills

additionally for shipfic: Angst with happy endings Pining, preferably requited in the end Repressed feelings and extended UST, especially between working partners who are busy with something more important Loyalty/dedication/faithfulness/devotion, us against the world, knight/queen dynamics (either one-way or where both consider themselves the knight to the other), bodyguarding, love conflicting with other loyalties, noble self-denial and sacrifice, courtly love Stoicism and hidden feelings/bad at feelings but has a lot, or good at feelings and good at hiding them Secret/forbidden relationships as a source of angst and/or for the excitement of sneaking around Hurt/comfort, rescuing each other, fighting beside each other Snuggling/bathing/dressing/playing with hair/other caretaking Forced intimacy tropes like bedsharing, huddling for warmth, fake dating, marriage of convenience, handcuffed together, dreamsharing/psychic bonds, bodyswap Longtime friends to lovers, old friends meeting again, old enemies who aren’t really anymore and have to admit they like each other, rivals who respect each other Ascetic/hedonist or repressed/libertine or inexperienced/more experienced pairings

for sex scenes: cuddling, kissing, laughing, eroticized hands and voices, clothed/semi-clothed sex, complicated undressing, talking whether emotional or joking or dirty, curiosity/discovery, playfulness/inventiveness, eagerness/desperation, being overwhelmed by feelings, having to keep silent or hold still, interruptions and delayed gratification and intentional teasing/drawing things out, body worship, sex against walls, informal mild kink (e.g., tying up, holding down, blindfolding, taking direction, scratching/marking, tearing clothes, mutual roughness), sexy letter writing, one fantasizing about the other, decadence, voyeurism/exhibitionism, writing/painting on skin, sex pollen, magical or magic-enhanced sex

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

DNWs: unrequested setting AUs (like high school or coffee shop), non-canonical/unrequested polyamory, non-canonical/unrequested pregnancy and kids, non-canonical nicknames infidelity (unless it’s something like escaping a forced or political marriage) sexual violence/rape (eroticized/described in detail; I’m OK with, e.g., a character being a survivor or hunting down a rapist) a/b/o, formalized bdsm, daddy/mommy kink, underage, incest, shit/urine/vomit/spitting

#chocolate box exchange

5 notes · View notes

sleepyarthur · 5 years

Text

I wish I could draw Arthur Morgan.

I want to draw Arthur smiling at the sight of a person he loves, nervously holding a love letter that he made conscientiously as he prepares to offer it. I want to draw him hugging and snuggling with his s/o, with this silly big grin on his face without a care in the world. I want to draw him on his wedding day, wearing a fancy looking suit as he watches his s/o walk down the aisle, tears welling up his eyes as the reality of the situation dawned upon him, his ultimate dreams now attainable and real. I want to draw Arthur with his son, or daughter, or both, adopted or his very own, playing around in a field of flowers, and he’s just peppering them with kisses as they laugh, with his s/o watching on and giggling at their antics. I want to draw Arthur doing honest labor, mingling with his coworkers and gushing over photos of his son and daughter, and shooting an intimidating glance towards them when they don’t acknowledge it. I want to draw Arthur donating to charities and visiting orphanages, and helping the marginalized, the poor, and people of color who are discriminated against in their cruel era, spending the rest of his life making up for the sins he had committed in ways he could. I want to draw Arthur being invited into these fancy parties celebrating his work as a very successful artist and/or writer, and he would feel so out of place all the time so he just drinks until he’s super drunk much to the horror of his guests. I want to draw Arthur just snoring adorably on his bed in his humble abode, with his s/o just slumbering peacefully on his broad chest, and Arthur dreaming about how he never had to spend a day looking over his shoulder ever again. I want to draw Arthur visiting all of his old friends, with Kieran, Sean, Lenny, Molly, Karen and Susan and Hosea all being alive and well and living out the rest of their days pursuing their dreams and passions. I want to draw Arthur getting a chance meeting with Hosea and Dutch again, who had turned over a new leaf from traditional bank robberies and just comes up with elaborate scams for greedy rich people that they get away with every time thanks to Hosea’s genius. I want to draw Arthur helping John build his house and scolding him whenever he does things wrong as Charles and Uncle sneer at them. I want to draw Arthur teaching John about ranching, and is just completely shocked when John listens to him attentively and is successful at every try because he was that serious about it. I want to draw Arthur and his family visiting John’s family and getting Jack acquainted with his children, and Abigail and Arthur’s s/o sharing some kinky stories about their husbands much to the two cowboys’ annoyance. I want to draw Arthur getting old, watching his children grow up and be the best people he would ever know. I want to draw Arthur on his deathbed, at the tender age of 85 (or less, but I prefer he lived long!), just happy about how everything turned out, content about the life he had lived, even through the hardships and challenges in his younger days. I want to draw an old Arthur smiling one last time as he looks at the sunset, eager to see his son Isaac once again in the afterlife.

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 spoilers #srsly tho I wish I could draw and make lovely art #kudos to the lovely artists of the fandom

117 notes · View notes

sky-daybreak · 5 years

Text

There is something about the gentle and yet indisputable acceptance of horses that is soothing to Kieran. They're lovely and calm almost all the time and he can admit that he's often sticking close to them to stay at the fringes of the camp and out of the way. Well, he generally does his best to keep from stepping on any toes, doing his work quietly and diligently.

Horses are, even if he doesn't say it out loud, his safe place. As safe as anything can be, with Colm out there and the van der Linde gang not trusting him. Kieran doesn't begrudge them their suspicions and mistrust, he understands that trusting him would be hard for the best of them. It doesn't mean that he doesn't wish it would be different.

Sometimes, when he hears Javier playing by the fire, the laughter of the others as they talk or the sound of someone telling a story, the words never quite reaching him, he feels incredibly, indescribably lonely. It's a feeling that seems to reach deep down, finding his heart no matter how well he tries to tuck it away and burrowing inside. Sometimes, it even feels as though the loneliness is hollowing him out to have more room.

Even when he gets his food, he tries to remain unobtrusive. There are people who aren't happy with him being there and they aren't shy to let him know. Bill likes to be the loudest about it, but honestly, Sadie is the one who scares the hell out of him. She has grace and unshakable strength and there is a vengeance burning in her gaze, bright enough to bring stronger men than him to their knees, that makes him duck out of her way.

Kieran isn't good with people either and he knows it. He entirely lacks Dutch's charm, or the open friendliness Lenny has. He isn't quietly reassuring like Charles or easy to talk to like Javier or Hosea. Hell, he isn't even gruffly charming like Arthur, who checks up on people in camp and whenever he comes over to the horses, Kieran can't help but become nervous and yet also hopeful that maybe they can get along after all.

The thing is, Kieran would like to befriend Arthur. At this point though, he'd be happy with just being accepted by the man. In all honesty, Kieran would like to get along with most of the people at camp. He'd like to listen to Hosea's and Uncle's stories or quietly sit at the fire when Javier plays his guitar. Kieran would love to talk to some people, even if it's just to genuinely ask them how they're doing or offer to help with something.

Well, at least he says hello to people and some greet him back. Hosea is kind enough to answer it, John tends to give him curt nods when he's not busy with something and Jack always greets him back. Tilly and Mary-Beth are nice to talk to as well. Mary-Beth especially. Kieran finds her not as intimidating as the others and she even, occasionally, gives him small smiles, making him duck his head in a bout of shyness.

The loneliness is less strong then, when he exchanges a few words with people around camp. Mostly, the others seem satisfied with letting him take care of the horses and carry things around.

It could be worse, Kieran tells himself. He knows what Colm would have done with a fella from the enemy camp. He certainly wouldn't have been as nice as Dutch. Kieran knows that he could be in a far worse situation, where he would face more than threats and people keeping him at the fringes, barely talking to him more than a few sentences here and there.

In the evening though, or when he hears the others having fun, it gets harder to believe that. He just wants to belong somewhere. Wants to be accepted, to be home. His life didn't exactly go well, he can't say that - after all, he didn't particularly want to run with Colm, but it had been a good option at the time, or rather one of the better ones.

"Kieran?" Mary-Beth's voice draws him out of his thoughts, her voice lowered in the settling dark, with some people already asleep and others moving to the campfire like moths drawn to flame. From the corner of his eye, he catches sight of Javier picking up his guitar and John and Sean already sitting down. "Thank you for your help with the saddle."

A saddle strap had been too worn and close to snapping and after Mary-Beth noticed, she asked him to fix it - everyone else had been busy at the time, but it still was nice to be asked to help. It had been an easy enough job, barely taking him half an hour, especially with a spare strap lying around.

"S-Sure." Briefly, he feels an uncomfortable, tight flush in his chest at his stutter. "It was easy enough, don't worry."

She gives him one of the small, brief smiles she occasionally gifts him and just as she takes a step back, obviously ready to move on and leave, she pauses.

"Is everything alright?"

Kieran almost fumbles for a moment, surprised by her words, then lightly ducks his head. "No, ma'am, I'm alright."

He can't really bring himself to say that he's lonely, that he honestly doesn't know if any of them would care should he disappear. Aside from worrying of him ratting them out of course - Kieran wants to scoff at that, Colm would never accept him back, even if Kieran would tell him anything, Colm isn't the man to forgive. He can't really tell Mary-Beth that honestly, he just wants one or two friends, and to have a real place somewhere in this camp.

Mary-Beth studies him for second, barely long enough for him to notice, before she gives him another smile. Something thoughtful and solemn is in her eyes though.

"I see. Have a good night, Kieran." With that and a small dip of her head, she leaves. Kieran hurries to return her good night and then shuffles away, over to the spot where he rests.

It's hard this night, to fall asleep. Kieran isn't sure if it's because he's been in a strange, almost melancholic mood almost the whole day or because he can hear laughter from the campfire, Uncle's excited voice floating over, words muffled, as he tells a tale. Somewhere, he can hear giggling and laugher, maybe Sean and Karen, drunken and fumbling together, sneaking off less than subtly.

Somehow, listening to it all, makes him feel hollowed out again and strangely thin and heavy. Sleep doesn't come, not until everyone's finally asleep and even then, Kieran sleeps too lightly to really get any rest.

The next day, he's surprised when, after his usual chores, Charles calls him over, Mary-Beth standing at his side.

"Yes?" Kieran asks, barely resisting the urge to fidget. He's always been bad at keeping his hands steady when he's nervous.

"Arthur said you were a decent fisher?" At his slightly confused nod, Charles tilts his head towards the horses. "You're coming fishing with us, then, if you're up for it."

Kieran feels truly baffled and then quickly nods. Truth be told, he could do with some time away from camp. He casts a brief, questioning glance at Mary-Beth who looks ready to go as well.

"I need a bit of time away." Mary-Beth answers, voice lowered and her smile lopsided. "And since you're going fishing, that's rather perfect for me. I'll read a book while you boys catch something to eat."

"Oh, I see." Kieran answers and then hurries to follow them to get the horses ready. His horse, obviously sensing that something is up, gently noses at his arm and it calms Kieran down again. He isn't even entirely sure why heading out with them is making him nervous. Maybe because he never had much contact with Charles and only a few, fleeting exchanges with Mary-Beth.

"Follow me." Charles says and turns Taima towards the path they're taking, leading them through the woods.

Charles' horse is happy and attentive, responding easily and willingly to any commands he gives. It's easy to tell that the man is good to his horse, gentle and steady, kind. Kieran always recognizes the type and a part of him wishes he could talk more with the man, about his horse or horses in general.

It's quiet between them when they leave the camp and ride out of the forest shortly after. Kieran can't help but glance around a bit. It's not safe for him to be out in the open - at least not alone - and yet, he finds he misses riding around. Seeing free fields and train tracks, smelling flowers and watching dust being blown up from dry paths, stupid things like that, things he hasn't seen in weeks, ever since they arrived at Clemens Point. He misses riding for fun and is all the happier for the chance to see a bit of the area they're in.

It doesn't take long before they reach their destination, though it's still a nice ride and a bit longer than Kieran expected.

"We're here." Charles says as he stops his horse and dismounts. Kieran follows his example, quickly eyeing the water and the possible catch in it. They leave their horses grazing and Mary-Beth settles in the shade with a book retrieved from the saddlebags. She looks entirely happy and content to stretch out her legs, rearrange her skirts and start reading.

Soon enough, Kieran stands in the water, the waves sloshing into his boots and soaking everything downwards from his knee. It's strangely familiar. Kieran used to fish more, back before he joined Colm and everything that followed and brought him here.

Charles, he notices soon enough, is patient, though not as proficient with fishing. He's still decent at it and from what Kieran overheard, the man is an amazing hunter. It's also not as silent or awkward as Kieran might thought it would be. While Charles isn't one for conversations he isn't interested in, he doesn't hold back either when he wants to say or ask something.

Kieran finds himself answering questions about how he learned fishing and from there, they progress to talking about the places they have seen and, to Kieran's quiet delight, somehow end up talking about horses.

Charles smiles when he speaks of Taima, something warm in his voice and possibly for the first time since he ended up with them, Kieran finds himself really relaxing. Maybe it's because he hadn't a genuinely nice and fun conversation with someone else in a long while, or maybe it's because Charles doesn't look at him with eyes full of suspicions. Still a bit reserved, but not as guarded and closed off as before. It gives a quiet part of Kieran hope.

It's almost easy, really, for them to talk about their respective horses and the other shenanigans they saw the animals getting into.

Kieran even manages to make the other man laugh once, a short moment of laughter that tappers of into amused chuckles. A small smile tugs on Kieran's face as well and he ducks his head, focusing on fishing, as Charles tells him an anecdote of his own.

Kieran honestly feels like he connects with the other man and his chest feels lighter, as though he can breathe easier.

They don't really end up catching much, a couple of fish and in the end, Kieran can't really feel his toes anymore, his boots filled with water and his fingers smelling of bait, but he finds all this is entirely worth it. The hours spent away from camp and enjoying himself, hopefully proving himself as nice enough company in turn, it's good for him. Kieran hadn't realize before how much he wanted and needed this.

Mary-Beth is asleep in the shade, book resting on her lap and Kieran worries a bit about the odd angle of her head - it doesn't look all that comfortable for her neck - when they slosh their way back out of the lake.

"Let's grill them now." Charles suggests, looking at their catch. It's enough for three people and considering they missed out on lunch in camp, it's a good idea.

First of all, they dump the water out of their boots and Kieran heads off to collect wood - never straying out of sight, though - while Charles prepares the fish. Mary-Beth wakes when the flames crackle and the scent of grilling fish starts to fill the air.

"Sorry." She says, briefly rubbing over her face and brushing a few loose strands back, as she sits up. She briefly grimaces as she tilts her head and Kieran wonders if he should have woken her up sooner. Maybe her neck would feel better then. "Do you need my help with anything?"

"No, we got this." Charles answers reassuringly and Mary-Beth moves to sit down beside them.

"You boys had a good time?" Mary-Beth asks, settling her book into her lap, still looking slightly sleepy. Charles is entirely at ease, calm and centered. A bit happy maybe too.

The bad night is slowly catching up on Kieran now and after hours of standing in the water, he starts to feel tired. It's nice though, it's a good kind of exhaustion and he finds a smile appearing on his face.

"Yeah." He answers, voice a bit quiet and flicks a quick glance Charles' way, a small bout of nerves bubbling up again. The man certainly looked like he enjoyed himself, but what if Kieran got it wrong...

"Yes." Charles answers easily. "It's been a good day, even if we didn't catch much."

"There is probably a better spot further up." Kieran offers.

Charles hums thoughtfully. "A try for next time, then."

The words shouldn't make him that happy or relieved, Kieran thinks. He shouldn't feel like exhaling the biggest gush of air at the certain way Charles offered another trip like this one. He still feels relieved and happy though, and Kieran really, really doesn't want to mess this up in any way.

"Just let me know when you want to head out again." He answers and Mary-Beth looks happy at the prospect of accompanying them again, considering her smile. It's wider than the others he's seen in his presence. This one crinkles the corners of her eyes and even Charles smiles as well, a lopsided thing that makes him look relaxed and approachable, charming in a nice way.

The fish are done soon and after the meal, Charles puts out their makeshift campfire while Kieran and Mary-Beth retrieve the horses. Mary-Beth even briefly brushes his arm in thanks when he holds her horse steady for her to have an easier time getting into the saddle, surprising him into silence.

When Kieran hands over Taima, Charles briefly clasps a warm hand on his shoulder, stunning him into stillness for a second. The touch is strangely calming, not rough or heavy and suddenly, Kieran's throat clogs up.

"Let's head out again soon." Charles says, as he gets into the saddle and Kieran has to duck his head against a sudden rush of emotions he honestly hasn't expected nor knows how to handle. He can't even really parse apart what's going on with him, only knows that it leaves him hanging in an odd balance between grinning like a loon and getting blurry eyed. So before he ends up doing either, or god forbid, the latter, he quickly nods and gets in the saddle.

"So, Kieran." Mary-Beth says, nudging her horse beside his as they start moving. "How did you end up becoming an outlaw?"

When he has to clear his throat to regain a steady voice and swallow against the emotions still sitting somewhere between his chest and throat, she's kind enough not to comment on it, merely waiting patiently for him to start talking. Charles tilts his head to listen, riding beside them as well when they leave the woods around the lake.

Soon enough, they're swapping stories and Kieran, for the first time in months, feels like he might be making friends. He doesn't know how things are going to be once they're back at camp, but for now, he's quietly glad and happy for this moment. Of being welcome, of laughing with people and making them smile or laugh in return. It fills him with a warmth he has missed for years, his nervousness not rising for once and instead, he feels like they might actually like him for who he is.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #kieran duffy #charles smith #mary-beth gaskill #my writing #don't mind this long ass thing #i have a lot of feelings about kieran #and i've been really wanting to write something for him #this got so much longer than i thought #i honestly just want to wrap him in blankets and sit him by the fire with something hot to drink

116 notes · View notes

galadrieljones · 5 years

Text

A Funeral: Chapter 9

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2 | Pairing: Arthur x Mary Beth | Rating: Mature

Content: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Fake Marriage, Epiphanies, Backstory, Banter, Deep Emotions, Sharing a Bed, Swimming, Arthur to the Rescue, Forests, Abduction, Angst, Heavy Angst, Mutual Pining

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their journey, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. In their desperate search for meaning together, they endure a number of trials, some small, some big—all of which bring them closer to one another as well as to the future, and to the unchecked dangers of the natural world.

Thanks @bearly-tolerable for the lovely banner!! <3

For the rest of this story, you can visit the masterpost, linked directly in the menu at my blog, or find me at AO3 as galadrieljones. ^_^

Chapter 9: The Polar Bear

He had let her kiss him. She didn’t know. It took all her breath and made her very weak. She had thought about kissing him a million times. Who hadn’t? Living in a camp full of unwashed cowboys, always grimacing. Going into town where the men were either perfumed and entitled or stinking of pig shit to high hell. Arthur was the cute one, his fair hair flipping out behind his ears, kind blue eyes with the crinkles, always with a flower in his hat, writing while sitting under a tupelo tree, smoking, chewing a reed. Chopping firewood for the camp. He lit her cigarettes, popped the caps off her beer bottles, gave her his hand, danced with her at the parties. It is easy to want to kiss this kind of boy.

But actually kissing him was much different. He wasn’t a boy. He was a man, and tender, like he knew it. Mary Beth was still a little young, and she didn’t quite get it yet, but the thing about a good man is, as he gets older, he gets softer. He just loses that bluster, the immediacy, that thing that once let him think he knew everything, that which guarded him from the world’s trials and tribulations. As a good man ages, he has less to prove, less petty errands to hang onto in the way of his pride. Sure that pride is still there and it’s tiresome, and it’s heavy. It’s harder to lift. But it’s not angry anymore. It just is. The underbelly to all this is that, by the time a man reaches Arthur’s age, while he is still open to the possibility of the future, many of the old sad things from his life and his past have already cemented themselves into the faraway basements of his heart and soul. There is no starting over, not really. They will always be there.

But Mary Beth was sage to this, at least a little, even if she didn’t know it. If living in a camp full of angry, unwashed cowboys had taught her anything, it was how to choose the good men from the bad, the lovers from the fighters, the intelligent from the simple. There were the men who knew themselves as hard men and that was all, and then the men who struggled to parse the ironies of their rough and gruff exteriors from the softness of their own desires. As far as she could tell, the good men of their camp were easy to locate. Charles, Hosea, and Arthur. They were good men. She didn’t know about John yet. She thought he was trying. After Jack disappeared he seemed to change and to quiet into his ways, and he began listening to Arthur. Dutch was lost. She was worried about how lost he had become, and she rightly did not know what to think of him—if he was a good man, it might’ve been buried by now. Lenny was still a boy, as was Kieran, and Sean, too. Sean had died before getting this chance to actualize. The other men of the camp were not necessarily bad. It’s just that they were not what her intuitive heart would have counted as good.

Mary Beth had talked to Sadie about this once, back at Clemens Point, after she’d gone into Rhodes with Arthur and come back, newly dressed and having killed several men. Sadie said to Mary Beth, “Arthur is a good man.” She was shining up her gun, determined. “I couldn’t’ve seen it before, with my head so deep in my grief for Jakey, but now I do. It is a pity he has ended up here, in this waste bin of existence with Dutch and the boys. He deserves more than this. He don’t see me like they do, like a burden. He sees me for what I am and for what I want to be, and for that, I will always be thankful.”

At the time, Mary Beth didn’t think much of it. She was desperately intimidated by Mrs. Sadie Adler. But afterward, she noticed how Sadie and Arthur were friends. And so Mary Beth would chat with her by the morning fire and have coffee sometimes, and she learned that Sadie, while a little scary, was actually very thoughtful, and then Mary Beth began to think about what she had said more carefully. Arthur had opened up to Mary Beth about his fears and trials so many times in that past year especially, particularly after that whole mess in Blackwater, when it seemed the course of their lives had changed forever. She began reaching out to him when he seemed in need of guidance. She noticed he did not open up to very many of the men or women—that included Sadie. He was concerned with maintaining the morale of the camp, and he could not do this if he was showing signs of inner conflict. She sometimes witnessed him and Charles, smoking together by the water, talking something through. Charles was similarly soft beneath his hardness, and he was very kind and protective of the women and also of himself. He carved wonderful animals out of pieces of wood and would give them to little Jack. She wondered if Arthur could carve shapes out of wood. She thought it was something he probably could do but just kept it to himself, a secret.

Now, he was looking at her, but then his eyes were dropping, a little. He was going into a place of thought. He still had his hand in her hair, his thumb tracing the curve of her ear, almost absentminded. He licked his lips and swallowed and then he closed his eyes. She became nervous now. She worried she had broke their friendship, a sin for which she could never forgive herself. And yet, he had kissed her back. It was two-sided, she thought. She had not kissed a man like this maybe ever, in a way that made her want. Boys, sure. And even then, it had been some years. But kissing Arthur made her feel different somehow, responsible and real.

“Arthur?” she said in a little while.

He looked back up, his eyes very soft. He was very vulnerable. “Yes, Mary Beth.”

“What are you thinking?” she said.

He held her hands then, cupped them inside both of his, held them tight. It took him a moment, to gather his thoughts. He cleared his throat. “I am not thinking much, Mary Beth. My brain seems to be malfunctioning at the moment.”

She smiled, and he smiled. “What are you feeling?” she said. This was the better question.

He looked up at her, and he touched her ear again, like he kept going back to it, playing with the hair there, how it tucked behind. Every time he did this, she kind of felt all the nerves in her body zap into existence at the same time. But everything about him was very grounded and settled in that moment. He was neither ecstatic nor distressed. “Like I want you,” he said eventually, very calm and deep, looking at her, then looking down at her hands. “I want you, and it’s railroading me.”

“How so?”

“Because it’s drawing to the surface all these…old wounds,” he said. “It’s hard to talk about. And once again, I am not sure how I should proceed.” Then, it was like he had a thought, he looked up, curious. “What do you want, Mary Beth? What do you see?”

She smiled. Unlike him, she did not feel unsure of how to proceed. “I see you, Arthur,” she said, tucking the hair behind his ears. He seemed comforted by this. “I ain’t a complicated girl. I’m glad I came with you on this trip. I want you, too. You’re a good man.”

He sighed, like he was afraid that was the thing she’d say. He gathered her hands again into his, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking down at their hands together, touching. “I wish I could just…be the thing that you need,” he said, coming apart a little. They’d tipped over some ledge, accidentally. She could feel them going real fast. “Want and need. They’re so different. I really wish, Mary Beth.”

“What do you mean?” she said.

“I ain’t—you don’t wanna be with me,” he said. “I can hear it in your voice. You think it’s something good. You think I’m something else. But you don’t wanna be with me.” He was shaking his head, and then he looked up at her finally. “I promise. I shouldn’t’ve—I shouldn’t’ve kissed you tonight. It don’t matter what I want.”

“Why?” she said. “I don’t understand why what you want don’t matter.”

“Because I will fail,” he said, still looking down at their hands. He had opened up her palms. He was drawing little shapes in her palm with his thumb, even as he said these things. “I’m a wanted man, Mary Beth. I’ll fail. I can’t protect you.”

“All you’ve ever done is protect me,” she said. “And I’m wanted, too, by the way. In at least three locals west of the Mississippi.”

He smiled at this. “I know.”

“I’m just saying.”

“I know.”

“If you could have exactly what you want, right now, what would you choose, Arthur?” she said. She picked up his face so she could look right at him, right into him. “What would it be?”

He seemed confused by the question, like no one had ever asked him what he wanted before. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Yes you do,” she said. “Right now. In this very moment, at Hamish Sinclair’s house in the middle of a proper thunderstorm. The old man is snoring downstairs, and you’re sitting here with me up in this loft, and we just got done with that poem, and we just kissed. Pretend like there’s nothing else. Nothing in the way. Nothing waiting. What would it be?”

He seemed to freeze. So did the whole world. It was very strange, like time casting inward and stopping all of a sudden, everything but the storm. The thunder picked up outside. The rain seemed to be getting stronger, too. You could hear the wind howling through the chimney. For a second she thought a tornado might rip right through the cabin, take them all away into the sky. She had not seen a tornado since her youth in Kansas. But she remembered that they were full of wrath and magnificent.

“Arthur?”

“Yes.”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“What’ll it be.”

He shook his head, very subtle, like he was dumbfounded. He placed both of his palms on her neck, held her gently behind her ears, searching with his eyes. “I still want you, Mary Beth. I ain’t lying. That ain't what this is.”

“Then take me,” she said, palming his cheeks again, very serious, drawing him. “Take me, Arthur. I want you to."

He blinked rapidly, shook out his head a little. “I can't,” he said.

“Why not?” she said.

He was incredulous. “Because I’ve made mistakes. In the past. Mistakes with women that I could not fix or rectify. I’ve hurt every woman who’s come into my life with my inability to be who she needed me to be. I won’t do that to you, too. I won’t get you pregnant and leave you to suffer my indecency alone. I won’t. I just won’t.”

She felt herself becoming frustrated now, with this. “But I know you,” she said, shaking her head. “You would never do that.”

“I have done that.”

“It ain’t the same. You told me yourself. That was more than ten years ago, and even still it wasn't like that. You know it. And I don’t need you to change, not unless you want to change. That’s not what this is about.”

“That’s always what it’s about, Mary Beth.”

“Well, I want to be with you,” she said, very matter of fact.

“No, you don’t,” he said.

“Don’t tell me what I want, Arthur Morgan. I ain't no child.”

His jaw firmed up. He nodded, resigned, looking like he’d been kicked in the stomach. “I’m sorry. I know.”

She withdrew her hands, hid them in her lap. He seemed to get the message. They weren’t touching anymore. She looked away. She felt like she might cry. Not for his rejection specifically, but because of all this stuff he was saying. She was lost for her words and didn’t wanna argue him no more. The night was full of drama. It had happened very fast. She tried to remind herself of this as she stared down at the elegant stitching of Hamish Sinclair’s late wife’s nightgown, and how it touched her skin so delicately. She closed her eyes then and tried not to be mad at Arthur Morgan.

He sighed. He was shaking his head. “I just—” He stopped himself. “Godammit. I am rightly screwing this up. That ain’t what I want.”

She still wouldn't look at him. She shook her head. She would not cry.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. "Mary Beth. Look at me."

So she did, feeling stupid. She waited on him. She said nothing, her body going limp like a ribbon. He grazed her chin with his thumb, held her face, gentle. He looked so serious, almost full of regret.

“I ain't saying no to you, Mary Beth," he said.

"Then what are you saying?"

"This is very...serious for me," he went on. "I feel a damn fool, but the truth is, I ain’t given myself to no woman in many years. I ain’t even considered—that just ain’t what I do. I am trying to be decent. I am trying to be honorable. I know I'm saying all the wrong things. That seems to be what I do, invariably, but I do not want to hurt you, Mary Beth. That is the last thing I want."

She looked at him. He had so much inside, so much he was carrying around. She didn’t feel sorry for him. Why would she? She looked up to him and she remembered who he was and who she was. She sighed “I understand,” she said, real quiet. In some way, she knew he was right. Moving too fast—that wasn’t the answer to any of their predicaments. Still, it stung a little.

“Thank you,” he said, relieved. “But you don’t have to, Mary Beth. Understand, I mean. You can just say no.”

“Be quiet, Arthur,” she said. It startled him, but in a good way. “I know I can. But I can also wait a little. You don’t need to explain no more right now. It was a bad night. We can sleep on it."

"That sounds good," he said.

"But when you feel like it, remember I'm still your friend. I'm always here to listen. No matter what.”

He smiled at this, seeming crushed by her reassurance. “Let’s go to sleep,” he said.

“Okay,” she said.

She turned the lamp down, left it on just a little. She didn’t want the loft to be full dark. The rain was big and scary. She realized then she was still a little shook from the encounter on the bluff, and with the lights out it rushed to the surface. She kept hearing things. She curled toward him beneath the heavy linen covers. He pushed the hair off her face and smoothed it down the back of her head, and then he just held her, no questions, very strong. She was glad. It was an acknowledgement, no matter how subtle. He wasn’t pretending like they’d never kissed, or like his feelings weren’t real. And her nerves and everything calmed, and she felt his muscles calming around her, which told her that it was all okay. She closed her eyes sometime after he closed his. She fell asleep to his big, even breaths, making her feel safe from harm under the rain.

That night, Arthur had another dream. But it was different this time. Instead of being inside the polar bear, he was in the woods, and he was being hunted. He thought it was the polar bear, but he did not think a polar bear had such lengths of intelligence to hunt him with such a vision of perfection. Everywhere he went to hide, either the ground was sinking underneath him, or the sky was trying to suck him into its endless void. He knew nothing of his life other the fact the was trying to get back to somebody. Somebody was waiting for him. That was all. And it was a gnawing anxiety that made his stomach hurt, and his body burn. Where the hell was he?

He woke up with a start. He sat straight up. He looked around. Mary Beth was asleep beside him, hard asleep, breathing deeply. He looked at her and then he dropped his face into his hands, because he very much wanted to touch her, just her hair again, put it off her cheeks, go back to holding her like it was all fine. She slept so peacefully. He rubbed his eyes with vigor. His heart was still beating hard. He tried to get up but bumped his head on the ceiling which jerked him out of his half-sleeping confusion and set him right. He swore under his breath and scrubbed the place on his skull where he’d bumped it on the hard wood. Outside, it was still raining, he could hear. But it was calm. The storm had past, and now it was just showers, just water falling from the sky in a steady flow. He exhaled and decided he was thirsty. He climbed past Mary Beth and down the ladder to the kitchen. He turned up the lamp a little bit on the kitchen table, but the hearth was good light down here. He poured a bit of water from a pitcher on the counter into one of the tin mugs Mary Beth had washed in the basin. He sat down at the table and drank the whole cup of water. Then he poured another cup of water, took a long drink and nursed the rest. His face was hanging in his palm. He felt very old, very tired. He was thinking about the dream, about her. His mind was like bees buzzing. His head hurt.

There was stirring then, from behind Hamish’s curtain. Arthur looked up. Hamish himself came out, rubbing his own eyes, hobbling against a sturdy cane. He made eye contact with Arthur and then gave him a canny look, like he was unsurprised. He pushed over to the table, hauled out one of the chairs, and sat down. Then, he gestured toward the basin and let the cane lean against the table top. “Would you grab me one of them mugs?” he said. “I’m properly parched this fine evening.”

“Sure,” said Arthur. He reached without standing, picked up one of the tin mugs off the counter and then set it in front of Hamish.

Hamish poured it full of water, took a drink. Then he sighed and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Goddam liquor,” he said.

“I know the feeling,” said Arthur.

“Sounds like the storm’s letting up,” said Hamish, looking up at the ceiling now. “Good news.”

“Yes it is.”

Hamish drank, scrubbed at his beard. Then he gave Arthur a long look, prying into him a little. “Trouble sleeping?” he said. “I hope the loft ain’t too uncomfortable. I ain’t been up there but to dust in some years.”

“The loft is fine,” said Arthur.

“What’s on your mind?”

Arthur sighed, holding his mug with two hands. “Mary Beth,” he said. He took a drink.

“What’s the problem?”

“She’s—” Arthur hesitated, glanced up to the loft. There was no disturbance. “She’s got some...expectations for me. Took me on a run for my money tonight. I’m used to expectations. But not like hers.”

“What sorts of expectations are you used to?” said Hamish.

“The stressful kind,” said Arthur, smiling in spite of himself. “Do this, do that. And mostly just—to be something I’m not. If that makes sense.”

“Oh, it does.”

“Only I don’t know that I knew too much about what I was before these last few months, and now this hunting trip, with her,” Arthur continued. “It's confusing. Now, I just—she’s up there. Asleep. We’s on uncertain terms. I ain’t seeing things too clear, Hamish. I fear that I am ruining everything.”

Hamish straightened up in his chair, flung one of his arms around the back and sort of hung there. He was thinking something over deep. He drank and set his cup down and continued to scrub at his beard thoughtfully. “What does Mary Beth expect of you?” he said. “Why are her expectations so different?”

“Because,” said Arthur. “She expects me to be…me, I guess. Or something like that. I never had no problems opening up to her. But opening up to myself, that is a whole new journey of indecision. I ain’t—I ain’t loved a woman in a long time. Last time I did, it didn’t work out. Her daddy hated me. Called me a thief, and I am a thief, but he was a whoring, drinking son of a bitch. Gambled away their money, their safety. He called me a thief.” Arthur laughed to himself. “Anyway, she loved me. I loved her. But it was always—she wanted me to change. And maybe I want to change. Maybe so. But the terms she provided, they were impossible. And we fell apart. I left. She married another man. Anyway. What I’m saying is, Mary Beth ain’t like that. She’s a thief, too, if you can believe it. Sweetest outlaw in the west. Only of course, that don’t matter. It don’t matter what she is. She just…is.” He took a deep breath. “I’m lost,” he said. “I don’t know how to be me, for her. Is there anything gotdam stupider than that? A man who don’t know who he is, who only knows how to be put upon by the things he most certainly is not.” He finished his water. He set down the cup and folded his hands on the table.

Hamish had been listening very closely. He was nodding the whole time, and he was still nodding now, taking it all in. He spoke slow now, and with great decision in his voice. “It sounds like you’ve had some difficult times,” he said, “with women.”

“Yes. I have,” he said. “I keep—failing to be the thing they need me to be. They want me. I’m strong. I’m brave. I know my way around a gun. Around the wilderness. But what they need—I can’t provide.”

“What does Mary Beth need?” said Hamish.

Arthur thought on this. He looked down at his knuckles as he so often did because they were complex weavings of past bloodshed. He thought. He thought some more. He had not thought of this. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Well, it sounds like she just needs you,” said Hamish. “Like she needs you to be…whoever you are, or whoever you want to be. You know that ain't unusual, right? You know that’s what love is. It’s needing a person for who they are. Not for what they can do for you, or for how they look, or what material life and provisions they can provide. She followed you here. It sounds like she’s followed you for a while now. Has she ever complained about the life you’ve given her?”

“No,” said Arthur, decisive. “Never.”

“Then what’s the problem?” said Hamish.

Arthur felt his throat tightening, his face feeling hot. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I do,” said Hamish.

“Then what is it?”

“The problem is, there ain’t no problem. For once, there ain’t no problem, and you’re used to solving problems, I reckon, and so now you don’t know what to do. You’re…lost.” He finished his water, poured another cup. “Let me tell you something, Mr. Morgan. If fighting in that god forsaken war taught me anything, it’s that life is short, and it’s mean. It’s ugly business. And if you find someone who you like spending your time with, and who likes spending their time with you, you ought to keep them as close as possible, for as long as possible. It’s the only thing makes life worth living. It don’t matter who they are, what they done. My wife died, and now I am alone, but I am not afraid, because I found someone I truly needed, and I knew it, and I kept her as close as possible for as long as possible. The last thing you want, Mr. Morgan, is to wake up one day, open your door, and find you’ve aged twenty years, and to look around and see no one dear to you. Because then it’s just the long, ugly earth, opening up. One day it’ll swallow you. That part is inevitable. Will you go down knowing you found the thing that you want, that you need most in life, and you held onto it with pride? Or will you go down in regret.” He lit a cigarette from his front pocket. Then, he slid one across the table to Arthur, set down a single match, and smoked. “Those are your only options, Mr. Morgan,” he said, very sure of himself. “Which will you choose?”

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #mary beth gaskill #a funeral #arthur x mary beth #arthur morgan x mary beth gaskill

20 notes · View notes

cochineal-leviat · 1 month

Text

Sketch Dump Pokemon 24 January

The sketch dump I made for the beginning of the year. There's even more from January that did not fit the format but are on my drawing file. Those are for later though. (It's not much but I don't want to crowd this post too much)

From left to right, top and bottom we have:

The rough sketch for vs champion Kieran silhouette and the final render version I made. It all started because I loved the pose here with that down perspective. If you know anything about framing and cinematography, you know that this perspective is used when a character is looking down at you/or has power over you/is more powerful. It works perfectly well, as that piece was about how Kieran's peers felt about him after his rise to Blueberry Champion. (and Hydrapple, so goofy and yet intimidating)

A rough shading I did for the applin render. I adored the simplimism and kept a copy of it before I started adding the shadows it would get from its surroundings.

The sketch from Kieran with his applin on his head! I love how the final came out but my favourite will always be the sketch version. I really don't know why I do, but my guess is that I just really like seeing the build-up. Sketch Kieran has my heart.

A sketch of Flore I did for an ask not that long ago. And Frosmoth! They came out really well.

A sketch of Lacey and her Plusle and Minun cheering her on. I sketched the idea on my pocket-sized sketchbook first and then sketched this version. I like it and the energy, but the lineart is not turning out so well. I will have to redo it. Not sure if I should stick with this pose (it's very direct) since, aside from a few moments, Lacey is not that confrontational unless she is annoyed or thinks something is not right. (I Love Lacey, too; I need to draw her more. The DLC really had so many good characters)

A Shinx. Just a Shinx. One of my favourite Pokemon. Whenever I play a Gen 4 game, I always put it on my team. It was one of my childhood Pokemon (fucking love them so much. I even spend weeks hatching Shinx eggs for a shiny one. Her name is Enne (^∇^*))

#my art #rough sketch #sketch dump #pokemon #pokémon #pokemon kieran #rival kieran #lacey pokemon #shinx #applin #hydrapple #plusle #minun #I need to draw the whole applin family together some time #I want to paint but I don't have the time rn with school ಥ_ಥ #at least I feel better than last week #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon dlc #pokemon indigo disk

31 notes · View notes

celticnoise · 6 years

Link

JOHN HUGHES – Big Yogi to legions of Celtic fans in his rampant goalscoring days in the sixties – continues his exclusive countdown to the Hoops’ visit to Ibrox. Today, in another CQN special, the Hoops legend selects his line-up for the clash in Govan.

THE POWER AND THE GLORY…here I am racing away from Rangers’ Alex MacDonald.

I’m told Graeme Murty will have his Rangers players fired up for the game against Celtic at Ibrox on Sunday. Apparently, they will go at the champions right from the off with all guns blazing.

Good for them. They’ll be wasting their time, though. The points will be heading back to Parkhead around 2pm and they will have the opportunity to reflect on all their empty words and rash promises.

Celtic possess far too much quality within their ranks to falter in Govan, mark my words. The opposition can come at them with their sleeves rolled up and nostrils flaring, it won’t make one iota of a difference. Brendan Rodgers has seen his Celtic side win six out of their eight meetings with the Ibrox team since he took over at Parkhead. The other two have ended in draws. As far as I’m concerned, my old club will remain unbeaten after Sunday’s skirmish.

Just look at the players Brendan has at his disposal. And then study the opposition. Would you swap Declan John or Lee Wallace for Kieran Tierney? How about David Bates for Kristoffer Ajer? Jason Holt for Scott Brown? Candeias for James Forrest? Alfredo Morelos for Moussa Dembele? Joe Dodoo for anybody?

If you answered ‘Yes’ to any of those questions, I would advise you go and spend some considerable time in a darkened room.

I’ve had a look at Celtic’s squad in an attempt to put together a line-up that will emerge victorious in enemy territory at the weekend. It’s an embarrassment of riches and that is taking into consideration Brendan cannot select the likes of Craig Gordon, Stuart Armstrong, Nir Bitton, Leigh Griffiths and Jonny Hayes who are all sidelined with injury. Mikael Lustig will be absent, too, as he serves a one-game suspension.

To a lot of other teams that might represent a crisis. Not this Celtic squad, though. I’m looking at the players who didn’t get into my team and who aren’t even sure of a place on the substitutes’ bench.

I’m talking about such talent as Scott Sinclair, Tom Rogic, Patrick Roberts, Charly Musonda, Eboue Kouassi and Cristian Gamboa. This may also be a game that has come too early for young Jack Hendry, our January recruit from Dundee, who I’m convinced will have a huge career at the club.

CRASH! There’s no chance for Airdrie keeper Lawrie Leslie as I wallop the ball into the roof of the net in a 4-0 Scottish Cup semi-final win in 1961 at Hampden.

Okay, who got the nod for our Ibrox mission? There’s no competition to Dorus de Vries in goal, so he’s an automatic selection.

I would go with a back three of Ajer, Jozo Simunovic and Marvin Compper, the same defensive trio that started last weekend’s Scottish Cup win over Morton.

Ajer and Simunovic walk into the line-up and I’m putting a bit of faith in Compper to deliver a thoroughly professional display. The 32-year-old German, who could still prove to be a snip at £1million from Bundesliga outfit RB Leipzig, needs games to sharpen his match fitness, so why not keep him in the team for the remainder of the campaign and have him completely bedded in for the crucial Champions League qualifiers in the summer?

On the flanks I would have Forrest on the right and Tierney on the left. I thought about Roberts, who, like Dembele, is a big-game player, but I doubt if the manager will pitch him straight in considering he hasn’t played a first team game since November.

I thought he might have got a run against Morton in the last 20 minutes or so when my old club were a couple of goals ahead and a place in the semi-final was assured. However, Brendan kept him on the bench and he will have his reasons for that. Having said that, I would have been tempted to reintroduce the player, but, of course, he could still play a role on Sunday as an impact substitute.

You could say the same about Sinclair and Musonda. The last thing a tired Rangers player would want to see on this occasion would be one – or both – of these guys coming on to get involved and show their skills.

I realise Sinclair has played well at Ibrox in the past and there could be a case for horses for courses, but, to be honest, I think he has been a bit off the pace in recent months. Yes, I know statistics will prove he is continuing to deliver and he is the team’s top scorer with 17 goals. Maybe our expectations levels are too high after his marvellous debut campaign, but the spark and invention of last season have only made rare appearances this time around.

I will be delighted if he makes me eat my words, but I don’t think he’ll get the nod to start against Murty’s team on this occasion.

“Callum McGregor has got a lot of qualities and he’ll show them again at Ibrox on Sunday.”

Musonda? He looks a real bag of tricks with a mixture of genuine qualities as he showed when he came on against Zenit St Petersburg and set up the winning goal for Callum McGregor. I would have him on stand-by at Ibrox and unleash him when the time was right.

And I’ve got to choose McGregor. He is flourishing under the influence of Brendan Rodgers and his touch, movement, vision and awareness to exploit space are a joy to watch. There’s little doubt he thrives on playing at Ibrox and he is also good for nicking a goal at vital times.

The holding midfielders would have to be Scott Brown and Olivier Ntcham. What can I say about the skipper? He’s a top man who continues to deliver. Broony’s got a great temperament and simply revels on big-match atmospheres. No doubt he will get niggled on Sunday, but I’m sure he’ll rise above that sort of stuff and lead by example.

I like the look of Ntcham. When he is in the mood, he is very, very good. The Frenchman’s a big, powerful guy and he is another who won’t be intimidated. I can visualise Brown and Ntcham dictating things throughout the 90 minutes.

My last two spots in the forward positions would also got to two of our Gallic cousins, Dembele and Odsonne Edouard. Last season’s 32-goal man is a shoo-in, of course.

He walloped in five goals – including his memorable hat-trick in the 5-1 triumph at Parkhead – in five outings against Rangers during the previous campaign. I believe he has got something to prove in the run-in to the season.

Okay, he has been hampered with ligament problems, but his penalty-kick against Morton was only his 12th goal of the campaign. Who would have bet on him having to wait until February to get into double figures?

That was the case when he headed in from just about under the crossbar against Aberdeen at Pittodrie. I know some shrewd judges who were predicting he would go through the 40-goal mark this term. Maybe even hit the magical half-century.

That’s not going to happen, but, like any ambitious player, he will have an eye on getting a place in Didier Deschamps’ French international squad for the World Cup Finals in Russia in the summer. That’s got to be his aim. Why not? He has proved he can get goals at Under-21 level, so a step up to the top team is the natural progression.

“Moussa Dembele will be determined to end the season on a high.”

There will still be some places up for grabs in the national pool and every manager loves a goalscorer. Moussa will undoubtedly be aware of the situation and that might just be an extra spur for him in the coming months. With Brendan around, though, I doubt if the big chap will need any outside influences as far as motivation is concerned.

I liked the look of Edouard when he came on at half-time against Morton while the game was still goalless. There’s a lot of drive and energy from the PSG youngster, although I doubt if he will ever be a prolific marksman.

I believe he is more suited to playing around or off the main striker and I reckon he would give the Rangers back lot problems with his strength and running power. Brendan, of course, has a decision to make on Edouard at the end of the season. Does he make the move permanent? Or does the player return to France?

A good display at Ibrox would go a long way to making up the manager’s mind.

So, in a 3-5-2 formation, I would go with: De Vries; Ajer, Simunovic, Compper; Forrest, Brown, McGregor, Ntcham, Tierney; Edouard and Dembele.

I don’t imagine that collection would be bullied by anyone. I can’t see beyond anything other than a victory for Brendan and the lads on Sunday. I would settle for 2-0.

Bring it on!

TOMORROW: Don’t miss another big-name exclusive on the countdown to the High Noon shoot-out at Ibrox. Who will be making his prediction this time? All will be revealed in CQN, the unbeatable magazine for all Celtic supporters

http://ift.tt/2IbBO9b

#CelticNoise #Celtic #CelticFC #CelticQuickNews

0 notes