#It's Arthur's fate to die

[morganapengdragon]

I totally understand why people see Merlin as always having been immortal, it makes complete sense. But I always thought that immortality was a choice for Merlin. Arthur dies and Merlin is reassured by the prophecy that he will return one day, which means he Has to be around when that time comes. He spends years researching and trying different spells and potions. He ages in the mean time. When he finally finds a way he is already an old man, and remains that way through to the point where we see him in that final shot.

#I just think it fits the theme of like #Fate is set in stone but destiny is a choice #And we see Merlin choose Arthur over and over again in the series #It's Arthur's fate to die #It's Arthur's fate to return #But it's merlin destiny to choose him no matter what #Or whatever #Merlin

[sieglinde-freud]

started another conquest lunatic file after my brain being numbed on birthright and i am having so much fun again. all of these faceless have grisly wound. no one will ever be at full hp. silas is on the verge of death at all times thus i am on the verge of a reset at all times. thrilling. arthur will get crit. only a matter of time. i love this game

#ann plays fates #i wasnt actually familiar with his personal skill bc i normally bench arthur #not bc i dislike him! i just dont want him to die and i am horrifically unlucky #so i just read just now and. it gives him -5 dodge. #it also gives the enemy -15 but. it gives him -5 dodge. ohh arthur… you sweet man…

[kateis-cakeis]

rewatching bbc merlin really has me like buzzing in my mind with so many thoughts. Like I'm kinda watching it backwards atm going from S5 to S4, I think I will jump around 3, 2, and 1 but just,,,, there is so much especially in S5 that makes me !!!!!!!

Honestly, I feel like this fandom has to give the writers more credit. Like they did a damn good job, and to me, it's such a good tragedy. Especially how S5 plays out, it takes everything and just tears you down, and down, and down. It's perfect, perfect with flaws! But still perfect

#bbc merlin #merlin #yeah idk on that note about the writers - this fandom is way too harsh #like i know we all have ideas on how it should have gone #but i think we lose how it's still a story that they planned from the start to end like that #they did their job they set up from the beginning and it is good as a tragedy imo as someone who has studied tragedies #hot take but the characterisations are consistent - i mean like as consistent as they get for a 5 series show #they did better than most and i dont feel like any characters get like their previous characterisation assassinated #that includes Arthur and Morgana btw they clearly have arcs that work well and where Arthur's is a slower progression - Morgana's is like a #lit match - slow at first but when it gets going it's going and then gone - it's wonderful #i mean look at s5 it literally starts by talking about Arthur's bane aka his fatal flaw aka his hamartia #which is himself and i dont think it's as much as the overdone hubris but rather Arthur's love and trust for others - but that like in many #tragedies can be debated #okay something else that can be debated is the peripeteia - i think a good example of it is the Disir episode because that's when Arthur's #fate becomes sealed anything after that point is fruitless because the Triple Goddess has decided he must die because of his rejection of #the Old Religion - it's a reversal of fortune in a sense that Mordred is alive to play his part in Arthur's death - as Merlin puts it. You #could see it more as Merlin's peripeteia rather than Arthur's but still #if we wanna debate it more Arthur's peripeteia would probablyyyy be when Mordred stabs him because that's when his death becomes imminent #it's a reversal of fortune because he's dying from that point forward rather than a strong king he is a man dying #the anagnorisis is another point to make. You could say for Arthur his anagnorisis is all of the finale - like this constant realisation of #Merlin and his magic and realising all that he missed all that he didnt see and now it's too late because he's dying #I'd say Merlin's anagnorisis comes with the whole Mordred and Kara ordeal and how he realises his mistake and how it's gonna cause the #downfall of not just himself but Arthur too #then catharsis - see i think it's the only part where the tragedy falters because do we get catharsis from Arthur's death and Merlin's #immortality - where he's still at the lake centuries later? #i think in some ways yes and in other ways no because I don't think BBC Merlin is following an Aristotle's tragedy #i think catharsis comes more from Morgana's half of the tragedy - seeing her die - and i think further catharsis comes from knowing it's no #over forever that there will be a second chance for redemption for both Merlin and Arthur #but it is a more difficult one for sure #anyway point is that S5 specifically has a tragedy storyline that is very well done and we should credit that more tbh

[misscrazyfangirl321]

I have a very specific genre of fix-it fic that I often think of but rarely ever write while watching shows, which is basically "What if one specific character took a leap of faith and trusted another character?"

#smallville and merlin come to mind #and like. i get why they couldn't esp with those #because those are retellings/prequels #lex has to go evil #arthur has to die #and yet #if someone took a leap of faith #that fate could have been avoided #i speak #fandom life

[mediumhonor]

because who am i without immedaitely making a rambly run-on braindump meta post as soon as i sign in anywhere BUT ANYWAY...

i need to go off about how different arthur and john’s dynamics with dutch are, how dutch’s ‘you’re just like me’ @ john in rdr1 isn’t just a villainous throwaway line but is actually the culmination of years of projecting onto john and years of trying to mold john into his image. the fact that dutch managed to shoot john from such a distance in rdr1 + the fact that he can double-wield so effectively really just. makes me think of how good of a gunslinger dutch is and there’s no way much of john’s gunslinging prowess isn’t part of dutch teaching him....

i just. hm. think arthur ‘eldest daughter’ morgan vs john ‘golden boy favorite youngest brother’ marston duality is pretty neat, and how both of their identities are so entwined w dutch’s perception of them even (in john’s case) years later to the point where neither of them can directly kill one another...

and of course, arthur's constant need to impress dutch/for his approval vs john's total lack of effort, because i think john left the gang for the first time because he's always seen dutch for who he is in some capacity, and dutch's favoritism successfully alienated him from everyone else. that being said, the only other person besides abigail who john has verbally admitted to loving is dutch.

i could say more about arthur and john's dynamic and a lot of arthur's resentment coming from imo john having the agency to leave the gang for the first time that i think a lot of people write off as arthur being angry at john for being a deadbeat (which is. you know. true too).

the van der linde cult is so fun... and by fun it makes me want to cry

#this is sort of a copy + paste but yeah #re: john & dutch thinking of john trying to manipulate jack when they're both attacked by talking abt buying beecher's hope in a way that i #just so so similar to the tactic dutch would've used on him and the rest of the gang like. #in contrast to this john's redemption arc that comes via his love for his family vs. dutch abandoning his family #and the fact that they die in completely opposite ways... i.e. dutch backing away off a cliff and john walking toward his death knowingly #and embracing his fate (while dutch refuses to accept his own) #PLUS them going out of their way to not actually directly kill one another i just. lmfao. #they're such mirror images! and it hurts #(in a similar way to this - hosea and arthur are obviously mirror images too! but in a way that is the total opposite to this.) #all four of them are doomed by the narrative y'all i'm so #tbd

[uisforuraniumbombs]

Arthur and Hana Supports C-B-A-S + ending

C Support

Arthur: Oh, Hana, nice timing! I was about to train for a bit.

Arthur: Would you care to spar with me?

Hana: Spar with you?

Arthur: Why yes. You seem uncertain of such a notion.

Hana: Me, uncertain?!

Hana: Pah, it'd be a good way to test my mettle, wouldn't you say?

Hana: Alright, let's go at it. I'm glad you offered.

Arthur: That's the spirit!

*fade out*

Hana: Guh, you're pretty good, I'll admit.

Hana: (Maybe better than 'pretty good')

Arthur: You did well yourself.

Arthur: I could tell you put your heart into it, no?

Hana: Nevermind me. Where'd you learn to fight like that?

Hana: Is it some Nohrian trick?

Arthur: Nohrian trick?

Arthur: Does there exist such a sly, vile thing?!

Hana: You know what? Nevermind.

Arthur: I understand what's being said. A little jest never hurts, wouldn't you agree?

Hana: Well,then tell me. What sort of fighting style is that then?

Arthur: Well, tell me, how would you describe it in words, Hana?

Hana: Hmm. I don't know how to describe it.

Arthur: Then perhaps the words will come to you another time. No need to force it.

Hana: No, I got it! It was more like a boorish style, might I even say plain.

Hana: You weren't flashy about it at all. You were focused on practicality.

Arthur: Then that is the type of fighting style you were asking about, is it not?

Hana: I think I understand. A practical fighting style.

Hana: Huh, that seems like a far cry from what I hear of your passion.

Arthur: Ah, but it reflects perfectly!

Hana: How so?

Arthur: Why, in order to help people best, you have to think optimally.

Arthur: Otherwise, the problem would just spiral downward further while you waste time.

Arthur: When you're an unlucky sort like me, exuberant actions may prove harmful to my well being... wouldn't you agree?

Hana: I guess I get what your saying makes sense... sorta.

Arthur: You can find me and ask me anytime you want. Till next time we spar, Hana!

Hana: (But isn't that what average people do - not heroes?)

B Support

Hana: Hey Arthur, wait!

Arthur: Hello there, Hana! I was about to eat lunch. Would you care to join me?

Arthur: "*Rumble* Overeating! The sneakiest of evil doers!"

Hana: You said I could ask you any question, right?

Arthur: Oh, why yes. Of course, that's what I said-

Hana: At any time, right?!

Arthur: Calm yourself, take a few deep breaths.

Hana: Alright... alright! Okay.

Arthur: Now, what has you all riled up?

Hana: Well, everytime I try to brush this lingering question, it just keeps coming back the next day.

Hana: Every time I try to answer it myself, I just don't understand it!

Arthur: Weeping Wyverns! What troubles you friend?

Hana: Well, yes it is. Arthur, I have to ask.

Hana: How do you manage to be both an aspiring hero, AND a simpleton at the same time. A total country bumpkin, really!

Hana: It doesn't make sense.

Arthur: Not to fear! I will explain this in the best way I can. 

Arthur: But, I must ask you to join me for lunch first.

Hana: Huh?! I don't have a problem with it, but...

Hana: Oh alright! I guess it won't hurt.

*fade out*

Hana: Ah...!That hit the spot!

Arthur: You were quite hungry! A hero never eats on an empty stomach!

Arthur: Now... would you like me to explain?

Hana: Explain what?

Hana: Oh right! Yes, please do. I almost forgot.

Arthur: Please, do tell me at any time if there's something that may further elaborate.

Hana: Will do. Now let's hear it.

Arthur: So, you've seen how coins have double sides.

Hana: Yeah, what about it?

Arthur: Now, a coin usually has those two sides, because otherwise it would be a different shape, and it probably wouldn't be a coin anymore.

Arthur: Coins are dependent on duality, don't you see? So are heroes, they wouldn't be heroes without duality.

Hana: So, they're two faced?

Arthur: Not to that extreme. Rather, a hero should be able to live two different lives. 

Arthur: This way, the hero would benefit from developing a diverse array of skills to help others in their time of need.

Arthur: It's just like how the symbols on different sides of a coin represent different traits of a country.

Hana: A normal life helps with what exactly?

Arthur: Why, the most important thing a hero needs! Compassion.

Hana: Compassion?

Arthur: Compassion! An equal person like their neighbor builds an understanding when they need to help them, no?

Hana: I suppose that sort of makes sense. But how does the heroic side help the normal side?

Arthur: To do the task others consider mundane. To be an ally to your everyday citizens. That is the meaning of a hero. Am I wrong?

Hana: Hmm... Maybe I need some time to figure this out.

Arthur:  With time. Nothing good ever came out of rushing things. Nohr wasn't built in a day after all.

Hana: Thank you, Arthur. I'd never thought I'd learn much from anyone, let alone a former enemy nor eat lunch with them.

Arthur: The pleasure is always mine, friend!

Arthur: Now, off I go to do some errands for my liege, as they had enlisted my help earlier.

Arthur: Till next time, friend!

Hana: ...

Hana: (Maybe I need to try out some of this 'everyday hero' stuff myself in order to fully understand his fighting style though)

A Support

Hana: Hey, there you are!

Hana: I've been looking all over for you.

Arthur: Greetings, Hana! What aid do I owe the pleasure of today, my dear friend?

Hana: I don't need any help today.

Hana: But I have an offer. You see, I want you to go...

Hana: ...

Arthur: Hana? Everything alright?

Hana: An outing! Yes, an outing. Accept my invitation for an outing.

Arthur: It would be my pleasure!

Arthur: To where you go, I will follow.

Hana: Alright! That's exactly what I wanted to hear.

Hana: I wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Arthur: Then I'm glad I said yes. 

Arthur: After all, a satisfied Hana, is the best Hana.

Arthur: So where do you wish to go?

Hana: We're going to visit the nearest farmlands to help out a bit, first. Then, we'll help at the closest general shop.

Arthur: What a noble pursuit!

Hana: Admittedly, at first I thought of just requesting you to chop down a bit of wood and I'd just watch But...

Arthur: Hmm?

Hana: But then I thought: "Maybe it'd be better if both our hands got dirty. And maybe the locals would appreciate it too."

Arthur: That's the spirit, Hana. Now you're getting it.

Hana: Well I won't completely understand till I experience it.

Hana: Let's get going!

*fade out*

Arthur: Nothing like tilling on a cool day!

Arthur: How are you holding up, Hana?

Hana: Gah! This is the fourth time!

Hana: The ends of these crops just keep breaking, Arthur. I keep having to dig up the vegetables!

Hana: But I won't give up. The farmers are relying on me!

Arthur: There's actually a small trick to that, Hana.

Hana: There is?!

Arthur: Allow me to demonstrate.

Arthur: More closely to the roots... There!

Hana: (He's not too bad at this stuff! I wonder how many times he's helped out with jobs like these...)

Arthur: Now, try the next one. I'll make sure you get it!

Hana: Oh- right!

*fade out*

Hana: This is really big... and heavy!

Hana: (Arthur seems to be doing just grand a job, though)

Arthur: Thank you sir, have a nice day!

Hana: (He's really getting into watching this musky shop.)

Hana: This is... so hard to move!

Arthur: Do you require any assistance?

Hana: A- little bit-

Hana: (He's strong! Right over his shoulder... I guess those muscles aren't for nothing)

Hana: (Wait, why does a detail like that come to mind?!)

Hana: Thank you, Arthur.

Arthur: I do what I can for the good of friends.

Hana: You know, I think I'm finally getting the gist of this 'everyday' hero thing. 

Arthur: Oh? Still have that on your mind?

Hana: It's just like training with the sword.

Hana: Except when you train with a sword, you're practicing for yourself. At least with how I do it.

Arthur: You've assisted the farmers short handed from war. And now we look over the shop as the shopkeeper's away. Like a budding flower Hana, your heroism blossoms!

Hana: Well, I couldn't have done it without you. You showed me a perspective of strength I would have never thought of!

Hana: I admire the way you help people. Very much so!

Arthur: That's quite the flattering statement, friend! But give yourself some of the credit too, no?

Arthur: You took the first step, after all.

Hana: Maybe I did. But even so, I admire you, Arthur. To think this all started with a sparring match, too.

Hana: But, I learned so much today from observing you and trying your way of things.

Arthur: Then, it's my gratitude that I could be helpful.

Hana: And my gratitude as well- 

Hana: I think we've got two customers loitering by the display window... they're about to come in!

Arthur: Then back to work we go!

S rank

Hana: Hah! Hah! No, too slow...

Hana: Huh, what's that on the ground? A coin?

Hana: ... I can't shake him off my mind.

Hana: He's always there! Working hard despite his occasional bad luck, sparring with me, eating with me, talking with me...

Hana: I can't get enough of him. Could it be possible I-

Arthur: Diligent at practice as always, aren't you!

Hana: Eek!

Arthur: Oh no, did I scare you?

Hana: You DEFINITELY surprised me. I was contemplating some important stuff, you know.

Arthur: My apologies!

Hana: It's fine, not like the thoughts are going to be a problem for long.

Arthur: Should you feel up to it, care to join me inside for something warm to drink?

Arthur: I heated some hot cider as thanks from the merchant we helped not too long ago.

Hana: I'd love to... Wait, wait!

Arthur: Hmm, something troubling you, friend? You seem flustered.

Hana: Yeah, something's wrong. And I'm going to say it!

Arthur: I'm all ears, my friend. Remember, Hana's burdens are Arthur's burdens.

Hana: Then you better be ready, because here it goes!

Hana: Arthur, your way of fighting intrigued me, sure. And I was skeptical of you. Who wouldn't be when you suddenly team up with someone from a previously enemy nation?

Arthur: That is most understandable. But you seemed to have gotten over it by now completely, no?

Hana: Yes, I have. I mistook you for a simpleton trying to be heroic, and after that opinion changed, I felt a bond with you.

Hana: But even so, I didn't completely understand until I saw you working hard in the fields, and selling wares to customers.

Hana: You're a hero, as both a fighter and an everyman. I started to notice every aspect of you.

Arthur: I would like to say the same for myself. During the time we have been spending side by side, I have noticed your growth, Hana.

Arthur: I find it marvelous to spend time with you, Hana.

Hana: Yeah? Well, now instead of questions about you being stuck in my head, I have YOU stuck in my head.

Hana: I can't get you out, either.

Hana: I think I'm in love with you!

Hana: No, it has to be love.

Hana: Arthur, I have to know, do you love me back?

Arthur: My, that's quite forward of you, Hana.

Arthur: But since you asked, it's only right I give the most heartfelt answer a man who stands for justice could muster.

Arthur: Hana, my feelings are the same.

Hana: They are?!

Arthur: Indeed, they are. But it's a slight shame, now to think about it...

Hana: Huh?

Arthur: Why, I was going to bring up such a topic over the cider tonight. But, there's no need for crying over spilled milk!

Hana: Arthur, how are we going to go about something such as marriage, exactly? We come from two different backgrounds. I come from a noble family of hoshido...

Arthur: ...And my family was an average Nohrian household of working people.

Hana: What?! Really? How did you become a vassal of Elise, then?

Arthur: That would be a story for another time. To foreshorten, through trial and error. 

Arthur: But I was determined to stand for justice, to become a hero for the people.

Arthur: Hana, if you could come to understand my way of life, I'm also positive that your family could come to terms with a Nohrian husband.

Hana: If you firmly believe that, then... I have hope they'll understand...

Hana: This is going to be so great! I get to wake up to you every morning with your goofy grin. And a wedding in Hoshido...

Hana: You know, I think you'd make a great father, Arthur!

Arthur: You think so, then?

Hana: Ohh, I'm so happy! So happy I could just... Gah!

Arthur: Quite the hugger!

Hana: Ack, too tight of a hug back, Arthur!

Arthur: Oh right, my bad!

Hana: Arthur, we're going to go far. We'll be greater than any old heroes from stories!

Hana: You better bet that I won't let anyone sctratch you!

Hana: .. Uh say, Arthur...

Arthur: What ails you suddenly, my lovely Hana?

Hana: Mmm...

Hana: Well, a kiss won't hurt, will it?

Hana: Isn't that what lovers do?

Arthur: Why, of course it is!

Hana: Ohh, then, what am I waiting for?!

*both close their eyes*

Hana: ...

Hana: Hee hee hee! (smiling sprites preferably)

Arthur: Hahahah, quite the romantic yet fierce flower!

-

Ending Slide:

"Hana and Arthur would remain on the road cross country for a while after the war with their child, hoping to truly help the people by each other's sides. However, as Hana fell pregnant once more, the two settled into rowhomes by Hoshido's capital, with Arthur becoming a high ranking member of the guard and Hana tending to two children as a happy wife. Once their youngest was a bit older, the quartet would moonlight once more as a family of heroes.”

#arthur #hana #fire emblem #revelations #fire emblem fates support #fateswakening #my ship #why have i been forced to make post you ask #i hate tumblr's ui #dething #i die #ree orz #might be used for a mod

[mediumhonors]

now that i also have dutch on here, i need to go off about how different arthur and john’s dynamics with dutch are, how dutch’s ‘you’re just like me’ @ john in rdr1 isn’t just a villainous throwaway line but is actually the culmination of years of projecting onto john and years of trying to mold john into his image. the fact that dutch managed to shoot john from such a distance in rdr1 + the fact that he can double-wield so effectively really just. makes me think of how good of a gunslinger dutch is and there’s no way much of john’s gunslinging prowess isn’t part of dutch teaching him.... i just. hm. think arthur ‘eldest daughter’ morgan vs john ‘golden boy favorite youngest brother’ marston duality is pretty neat, and how both of their identities are so entwined w dutch’s perception of them even (in john’s case) years later

#* DUTCH VAN DER LINDE. #* JOHN MARSTON. #by neat i mean terrible #thinking of john trying to manipulate jack when they're both attacked by talking abt buying beecher's hope in a way that is #just so so similar to the tactic dutch would've used on him and the rest of the gang like. #in contrast to this john's redemption arc that comes via his love for his family vs. dutch abandoning his family #and the fact that they die in completely opposite ways... i.e. dutch backing away off a cliff and john walking toward his death knowingly #and embracing his fate (while dutch refuses to accept his own) #PLUS them going out of their way to not actually directly kill one another i just. lmfao. #they're such mirror images! and it hurts #(in a similar way to this - hosea and arthur are obviously mirror images too! but in a way that is the total opposite to this.)

[arthurslesbian]

morgana learns the truth about uther being her father because of merlin??

#the ep with the crystal cave s3e5 #this is the episode that should be titled the beginning of the end omg #a microcosm of the plot as a whole #merlin's downfall and the moment morgana was lost forever #until then all she wanted was to kill uther #which would've made arthur king as much as morgause wanted to install cenred #but it was this ep that made morgana want the throne #merlin could not stand to see arthur in pain so much that he couldn't let morgana die either :( #i see i see #my memory of this ep was faulty #she was never going to kill uther #merlin's actions caused him to bring about the very fate he was working to avoid #if only he'd learned his lesson

[livvyofthelake]

this happened to my buddy emma. not. not the same way. but. yeah.

#arthur could NOT do ‘i’m fated to die and i will die but not today’ #and mordred could NOT do ‘i’m sorry emma i was hoping you’d save us both’ #merlin liveblog #we have now entered the once upon a time season 6 did this better portion of me watching a tv show. this always happens to me.

[pendragonsclotpole]

building on my idea that merlin takes on the name ambrose pendragon after arthur’s death, like imagine it’s 50 years later.

everyone from camelot is dead. the anglo-saxons have won, historical conquests of britain are continuing on as they did and here remains merlin, previously known as emrys, neither name really a surname and the latter always more of a title, but both representative of a world that no longer exists, a kingdom that has fallen apart, a servant with no master, a half without that which makes it whole.

so maybe merlin leaves. he explores. first he travels the isle and perhaps when people ask him who he is he defaults to an ancient practice. people, you see, have often been known by what they do or who they serve or where they come from. for a while, for the decades that pass wherein people remember the rule of the pendragons and the great kingdom of camelot and the failed prophecies of albion, he is not Merlin of Ealdor but Merlin of Camelot.

but people die. memories fade. time passes. merlin remains. and after a while, he cannot call himself Merlin of Camelot. not only do people forget his old kingdom, they forget his name, they bring along new languages and then around 300 years after arthur’s death, a collection of stories begin to be written, about magic, about merlin, about—

Arthur.

people you see, have often been defined by what they do or who they serve or where they come from. when the stories of arthur begin to be told anew, and remain with merlin through the tide of centuries, merlin resolves to forge a new name. he devises first the name in the style of a servant or of some of the common folk.

Merlin of Pendragon.

merlin toys with that idea, wears it for a few decades but something in those words rings false, sounds wrong, and unsettles his blood, as if he lays claim to a dynasty that shall never be his and will never rise again. when he uses it, people laugh and think him an uneducated fool playing at legend. it feels trite and awkward and wrong.

Merlin Pendragon sounds better, more forgivable if not entirely presentable. It makes merlin sound like he is a Pendragon, but only one sorcerer has ever laid claim to the Pendragon name and her name had not been merlin. (it makes merlin a Pendragon, and not even when Arthur lived had merlin considered such a fate a possibility, that Arthur could ever consider—)

merlin continues thinking, and by the time he settles on a replacement it is out of obligation and urgency. he cannot be nameless while he works as a healer and travels the world and serves other people as best as he can. he cannot be merlin Pendragon if the only man who could have conferred that name to him is dead.

instead he becomes Emrys Pendragon, and for a while, that name becomes a second skin. but like the serpent he has always been, merlin eventually sheds that skin. centuries have passed and those who once bore the name emrys, the last descendants of the druids and the people of Camelot, now only recognize that name in legend. the name once more marks him as stupid fool in love with the romantic notion of chivalry. besides, the languages have shifted and a name that once rolled off the tongue has become clotted and stuck in the mouths of people. no one can say it as it had once been said nor as it once belonged by arthur’s side, if only in secret.

merlin again returns to the drawing board, and luckily by that time he is aware of the translations of his many names. on a visit to rome, the grand imperial capital Arthur once dreamt of seeing as a young man, merlin thinks of a perfect substitute. His final name.

Ambrose.

Ambrose Pendragon.

it is emrys, but not quite.

it is merlin as he is forced to live without Arthur.

it is what Arthur could have been if he had lived at merlin’s side.

it is, written shorter, A. Pendragon.

it is a simple name. it is a stupid name. it is a name that breaks his heart and reminds him of his failings and keeps the faith alive within him.

years after adopting the name, merlin wakes up and walks to his desk and sees the name written on the outside of an envelope and he imagines it’s a letter from arthur.

a thousand years later, he sees it written on the sides of coffee cups and envelopes, monogrammed on his coats and cufflinks, inked on his essays, emblazoned on the side of his shop, and merlin imagines that when Arthur returns, he will return to a world already familiar with an A. Pendragon.

It shall be a welcoming world, as if across all these centuries, by some miracle, Arthur Pendragon had lived all along.

#merlin #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #king arthur #merthur #merlin emrys #bbc merthur #merlin’s name is a. pendragon #merlin quotes #arthur and merlin #married names

[strrwbrrryjam]

so i know we have arthur travelling back in time to the beginning of the game, but i haven't seen or at all seen john coming back from dying in rdr to the beginning of rdr2, freshly coming off a wolf attack, stuck in the grizzlies.

i honestly think it'll be so interesting to see, especially since for arthur there's a lot of mystery, because dying arthur doesn't know what happens after the events of rdr2, while john does and he knows the fates of each and every member that ended up betraying them

we have grizzled 38-year-old john who is very much in love with his wife and has a good relationship with his son, who has been suppressing the shit out of his grief going back into the body of 26-year-old john in a tumultuous relationship with abigail, a non-existent relationship with his son, seeing his brother who has been dead for so many years staring down at him, mocking him, and having to return to a gang filled with people he's either killed/had killed or saw die.

the potential is insane, i love this idea so much.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr #red dead redemption #rdr2 arthur morgan #arthur morgan #rdr2 john marston #rdr john marston #john marston #strawberry speaks

[ravengards-rogue]

WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ; 

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur. 

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun. 

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him. 

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate. 

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy. 

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures. 

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember. 

 Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him. 

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain. 

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down. 

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something. 

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while. 

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately. 

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you. 

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish. 

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting. 

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit. 

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs. 

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,” 

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,” 

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,” 

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.” 

You giggle back at him 

“What kinda trouble is that now?” 

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice. 

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.” 

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.” 

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly. 

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn. 

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted. 

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it. 

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily. 

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

 Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show. 

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp. 

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms. 

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine. 

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that. 

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.) 

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did. 

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it.  It was just all too easy again, to be with you. 

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family. 

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see.  Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

 It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street. 

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy.  John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you. 

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you. 

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision. 

You might turn him into a literate man yet. 

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life. 

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself. 

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck. 

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?” 

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you. 

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,” 

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat. 

“John,”  

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.” 

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,” 

“A foolish one,” 

John laughs. 

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving. 

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get.  He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently. 

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.) 

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters. 

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living. 

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is)  loyal to Dutch. To the gang. 

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after. 

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long. 

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time.  He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about. 

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around. 

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen.  If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing. 

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.) 

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit. 

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would. 

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d  never find again. 

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves. 

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too. 

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way  they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you. 

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him. 

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him.  You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,” 

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease.  All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides.  You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space. 

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words. 

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.” 

Darling as you always are, you nod softly. 

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ; 

Wandering. 

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on. 

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly. 

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains. 

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few. 

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it. 

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list. 

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

 You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are. 

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him. 

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some. 

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you.  And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything. 

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not. 

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss. 

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars. 

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze. 

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks. 

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?” 

“Well, I’m not fine with it.” 

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?” 

“Please, what?” 

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.” 

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life.  “Yeah, that’s good to hear.” 

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto. 

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head. 

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,” 

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires. 

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you. 

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed. 

“Kiss?” 

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #rdr2 x reader #rogues love letters #red dead redemption 2 x reader #THIS IS THE LAST TIME. THE LAST FUCKING TIME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[theroundbartable]

They are trapped. Truly this time.

The knights are forced into a small room, conditioned to wait until their captors decided upon their fate.

It's not Arthur's fault, he thinks. How could he have known they were waltzing into the territory of gods? Sure, if he had listened to Merlin... But since when did Arthur ever listen to Merlin? He regretted that now.

They had tried slashing the walls with their swords as well as the doors, but neither of them could get a scratch on it, let alone pass through. They had seen a man be smitten by one of the gods in question. It had been a terrible, gory sight. A god who had smiled at them when impaled, told them attacking them would get them minus points. His voice never wavered, his smile never faded. Then the god made their way through a door without even touching it. The door vanished around them, never having to open.

There was a sign on that door, that was the reason why Arthur knew that person had been a god.

Only gods may enter

Humans were unable to.

Merlin sighs and draws attention to himself. "Well, I guess this is it."

Arthur: we're not going to die here, Merlin.

Merlin: no. I guess not. But I suppose, I will, after.

Arthur: after? Why would you -

Merlin shrugs, then turns to the impeccable door. As if to test it, he touches the wood. His hand goes through. "Shit", Merlin mutters, but doesn't look surprised. A second later, he's gone.

Arthur doesn't realize that he tried to stop him until his own hand collides with the hard wood of the door that swallowed his servant. Arthur's eyes are stuck to the sign. Slowly, very slowly, his mind connects the dots.

#bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #merlin bbc #concept

[larluce]

Arthur travels back in time to save Merlin (from becoming a tree) AU

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART2 (You're here) , PART 3

The king of Camelot goes to visit his magic tree before his next battle. This isn't new. He always visits it. But it will be the last time he does it.

Arthur: (caressing the bark of the tree with a hand)It's finally time. I'm sorry it took so long. (sighs) And I'm sorry I have to do this.

He knows he's being selfish. Camelot is better than ever, his people is happy and yet he's going to war, risking this era of peace. A war he knows he won't come back from. But it's necessary.

Gwen: (arriving) Arthur...

Arthur: I won't change my mind, Guinivere

Gwen: I know. I just want to understand. Arthur, why? The price is too high and the chance it might work too slim. And even if it does work, you are risking that everything you know, everything you built will never happen.

Arthur: It's a risk I'm willing to take. I can prevent so many things from happening, not only Merlin's fate, but Gawain's, Elyan's, Lancelot's-

Gwen: Don't pretend you're not doing this just for him, Arthur, I'm not a fool.

Arthur: ...

Gwen: He wouldn't want you to do this. And you know it.

Arthur: Yeah, well, he didn't care about what I wanted when he made that stupid deal.

It's been ten years since Merlin saved his life and was cursed to be a tree forever as a payback. He was now a majestic beautiful tree in the royal garden and the most valuable national treasure in Camelot due to its magical properties: It could give fruits with the ability to cure all ills and the most serious wounds, but also could give ones with the most letal poison. Its wood was the finest. Once it let some branches fall for its king before an important battle and the weapons that were made with them are still as good as new to this day. Though Arthur did his part, he knows Camelot probably would not have obtained the title of the greatest, richest and most prosperous kingdom if it weren't for his Merlin.

However, not everything was sunshine and rainbows. Like every treasure it was also coveted by everyone who wanted to use it for their own selfish purposes. Kingdoms envious of his power sent spies to try to steal its fruits, its branches and even to try to cut it down to leave Camelot defenseless. Others even tried to invade Camelot just to posses the magic tree, but Camelot's army was the strongest in all Albion so they never could and soon they stopped trying.

There was a time they almost got too close though. Once Arthur found a man holding an ax stuck deep in Merlin's trunk. He has gone so mad with fury, he almost beat the man to death if it weren't because his knights stopped him before he made the final blow. He was still livid after that, but he let Gwen handle the man's trial, because he knew he wouldn't be reasonable in the state he was in. In the end the man was sentenced to beheading. It was what the law decreed since touching the King's tree was by law an act of treason. The king who sent the spy had to make a public apology and give monetary compensation to avoid a war. Arthur did make sure the spy's head was cut of with his own ax though. Later, when he was alone with his tree, Arthur cried because he almost lost Merlin again. The king apologised to him over and over again between sobs and cried until he fell asleep at the tree's roots.

It was then when it hit him. One day he would die and there won't be anyone to protect Merlin from greedy people who will only use his power for their own gains. Merlin would be at his new owner's mercy and the one after that, and the one after that, forever without being able to do anything about it. The mere thought made Arthur sick to his stomach.

No, he won't allow that to happen.

Gwen: (with teary eyes) Aren't we happy?

Arthur: Don't say that. You have always made me happy.

Gwen: (laughs weakely) But he made you happier, didn't he?

Arthur: ...

Gwen: You never told me. Which were Merlin's last words.

Arthur: I love you... he said I love you.

Gwen: Oh... (smiles) I get it now. Alright I'll help you. Just promise me something.

Arthur: Anything.

Gwen: Don't feel bad if you can't prevent other people from dying. In fact, you don't have to do it. Just save Merlin.

Arthur: But-

Gwen: No, you have done so much for this kingdom and sacrifice so much. (cradling his face) You owe us nothing and you owe me nothing, alright? Just be happy.

They hugged each other tightly and they share their last kiss and I love you before Arthur finally went to bloodiest battle he'll ever had in his life. And, after killing 100 hundred enemy soldiers with his blade, the king of Camelot died at the early age of forty.

Later Percival and Leon retrieve the king's corpse and bring it before their queen who doesn't share a tear despite being broken inside. She orders for his late husband to be buried next to his tree instead of burned in a pyre, proclaming that's what the king would have wanted. The real reason however is more complex than that.

The night after the funeral, she secretly brings the druids her husband consorted for years to the royal garden for the ritual to be made. Before the tree, as was planned, is the Ancient Round Table of the Ancient Kings.

Druid1: A sword with the blood of 300 hundred man.

Gwen: (gives excalibur to him)

Druid2: Three dragon scales.

Percival: (gives them to her)

Druid3: And the corpse of a king. We have everything.

Leon: Will this really work?

Druid1: This ritual had only worked once in the times of the ancient kings and only because it was done by three of the most powerful sorcerers of that time. We are not that powerful.

Druid2: However, we have a great magic source (she points the tree). So it might work.

It worked! That's Arthur's first thought when he opens his eyes again and finds himself in his room 20 years younger.

....

HIII!! First of all I want to thank you all for giving the first post so much love! I was truly shocked because I didn't think the AU was that good, so I'm really glad you liked it. I hope this kind of sequel/prequel? was of your liking too.

I don't think I'm going to make this a full fic yet, but I can make snippets like this about this AU until then.

What else would like to see happening in this AU? Let me know in the comments or reblogs ;)

#merlin bbc #merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #merlin fic #merlin fanfic #merthur fic #merlin prompt #arthur and merlin #merlin and arthur #merthur prompt #merthur fic rec #merthur fanfic #Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

[my-destiny-my-chicken]

I think the most heartbreaking thing about any of the events in Merlin is that every choice that Merlin is forced to make to keep his mouth shut or say what he is supposed to just works to doom the narrative of the show. He could have changed so many of the outcomes of the story if he would have only said one thing different.

Merlin telling Morgana “You’re not alone in Camelot, and I can help you discover the beauty in this power that you were taught to hate and fear.”

Merlin telling Arthur “Your heart is right about the goodness in magic and we should create the kingdom that I was born to help you build.”

Merlin telling Mordred “You and I are both part of prophecies that are out of our hands but we can work to forge our own destinies within them.”

Over and over Merlin dooms himself to his fate of watching Arthur die. He does exactly what he is told and it ruins him. Every time he is forced to make an impossible decision against his own judgement it ends up burying the knife deeper.

#watching merlin create his own demise #it kills me every time #merlin #bbc merlin #bbc #merthur #arthur #bradley james #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #colin morgan

[sexy-sapphic-sorcerer]

thinking about arthur and merlin & achilles and patroclus & gilgamesh and enkidu

something about a god treated like a man, a man treated like a god. something, something, one cursed to die, one cursed to live. trying to defy fate, defy death, defy the gods to be together again. something about how we keep telling these same stories over and over again. something, something, the mortal hero immortalised in legend.

#rotating them all in my brain like a microwave #slowly cooking up some coherent thoughts about this. not yet though #enjoy these lukewarm ramblings in the meantime #bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur #achilles #patroclus #patrochilles #the song of achilles #the epic of gilgamesh