#if you see a drunk arthur and john in the background no you don't

[regwishesshehadmagic]

[scarfacemarston]

Hey there! Thank you for uploading and sharing all those audio files with us! Don't feel like you need to but I am curious about your thoughts regarding John being "Dutch's fav" as Arthur, Bill, and now apparently Micah all comment on. Like unless I missed some sort of Dutch and John interaction I never really got that vibe and generally assumed it was Arthur and Bill's insecurities that caused those comments. But with Micah now I'm like....did I miss something?

I loveeeeee this question.  We all know both Arthur and John had it rough, but in different ways. Arthur had a loving mother, but a horribly abusive father and then was on the streets ever since. He was 14 when taken in. John never knew his mother and was neglected and abused by a drunk, senile blind man. He was put into an orphanage at eight, ran away, and then lived on the streets on his own until he was rescued.

In my opinion, Arthur was “easier” to deal with because he craved love and affection. He had that from his mother and really wanted that again. He wanted nothing more than to please Dutch and Hosea. I do believe that Dutch cared for him. They had a lot of “happy” - at least in comparison - years. That’s like being the only child and then having an obnoxious sibling come in and steal the thunder. Arthur had tons of time to bond and Hosea really appreciated Arthur’s softness, but I absolutely believe he was turned off by John’s roughness. You can’t act softly if you’ve never experienced it. That’s why John was the more wild and aggressive one. I know Arthur was the same because Dutch and Hosea say he was - but he still had some balance. You sadly see both types in foster homes all the time. 

I think Dutch has always been firey and we know he’s all about beating the system so I think he encouraged John’s anger and wildness whereas that is the exact opposite of what Hosea would want. John was likely physically and emotionally stunted. I speak from experience. I’m still not considered “right” from my time in the orphanage system, but I promise I’m not John.  Physically, John reallllllyyyyyy lucked out. Honestly, most of the gang kind of did in a way if we’re going for realism. 

I say this because Dutch and Hosea basically had to teach him everything you needed to be a (mostly) proper person so to speak. So I think what happened is, Dutch loved seeing how headstrong and opinionated John was and became, but then it wasn’t so convenient or funny to Dutch because instead of being a bit sassy - he’s not able to control John. That’s firmly why I believe he hated John. One of his “creations” took their own path. He kind of hints at that, too. That’s why I think he’s drawn to Micah. He was drawn to Lenny, but when saw that Lenny saw through a lot of his crap, he gave up. Same with Abigail. I can’t explain Molly except he got bored because she hung onto his every word. Maybe that’s different? Mary-Beth is an idealist so she’s easy for Dutch to talk to. Tilly and Dutch seem neutral. Those are the youngest in the gang that he would feel could influence the most. 

So I think for Arthur, some of that is sibling jealousy. There is quite the age difference,  but I think a lot more of it is that he’s still hurting from John leaving the gang. I have found sooo much audio where John is basically lamenting how much he misses their relationship. I honestly was stunned and I have only heard a little bit of it in the game. Arthur is downright brutal, but he feels justified. I know a lot of people think it’s because he’s furious he abandoned Abigail and his newborn son. I totally agree, especially given what he knows about his background. However, I think he also thinks about how unfair it was to him to leave the gang and come back without an issue. To be fair though, We don’t know how often Arthur was gone with Mary or Eliza or if he told anyone, but it certainly wasn’t a year. On top of that, I personally see it as Arthur feeling personally betrayed. I don’t think that’s touched on enough - he feels betrayed that the person he helped care for decided to abandon everyone, but especially him. So that’s where I think it came from. For Bill, it’s absolutely his insecurities. There’s no doubt. He doesn’t fuss at Arthur because he’s scared of Arthur. I will say, Bill is also one of the oldest members of the gang as in - he’s been there the longest, so he would have seen more of John being spoiled by Dutch. However, It’s interesting that Bill doesn’t seem to crave Hosea’s affection. Just Dutch’s. Maybe it’s an “intellectual vs practical” type of thing? I’m not sure if I’m saying that right.  For the rest of the gang, they weren’t really there beforehand. They can’t comment on before Jack’s birth and John obviously came back differently. Heck, it wouldn’t surprise me if he came back to camp and saw a whole bunch of new people. Really, it wouldn’t be hard to say “Oh, Dutch raised him” and have it make sense about John’s treatment.  The rest of the gang doesn’t really seem to care or respect him. Weirdly enough, listening to the conversations - I don’t really feel like most of the members like each other despite their claims of being a family. Like there is definitely an underlying affection as seen with rescuing Jack, but I don’t know. There are so many people that don’t interact with each other but that could be game logistics? 

[ladytshelby]

Stand By Your Gun Chapter Two

𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐵𝑦 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝐺𝑢𝑛 𝐶h𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑇𝑤𝑜: 𝑆𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑇𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡h𝑒𝑟

Finally, here is chapter two! I hope you enjoy it. As always comments and feedback are welcome. Chapter one

Warnings: mild swearing, brief mention of panic attack, nightmares, death, alcohol drinking (if anything else needs to be put here please let me know).

Amelia leans against the door of Tommy’s room and waits for the click of the latch before asking, “You know more about the robbery than you're letting on, don't you?”

Tommy is standing by the window, looking out with a blank stare not saying anything. Even though half of his face is turned away from her, Amelia can still read him like an open book, can practically see the wheels turning in his head. She has always loved his brain and how it seemingly never stops running, always being five steps ahead of everyone else. Sure he is a good-looking man, but then again, he always has been.

Moving to sit on Tommy’s unmade bed, Amelia spots Pride and Prejudice on his bedside table in the place Amelia left it a few days before. A forgotten betting slip acting as a bookmark sticks out so Amelia reaches down and grabs her beloved novel to fix the paper. She has lost count on the number of times she has read the book but each time gets better nonetheless. Some nights when she doesn't want to go home to her mother, she’ll fall asleep in the armchair reading, sometimes by herself or with Tommy not really listening but enjoying the background noise when sleep won’t come.

Finally, after a few moments of silence, Tommy turns around and sighs breaking the quiet that has enveloped the room, “I know enough.”

“That’s a shit answer and you know it,” Amelia scoffs. “The face you were making downstairs is enough to tell me that you know a lot more than everyone else.”

“Millie, it is none of your concern at the moment.” Tommy grabs a bottle of whiskey off of his dresser, takes a swig, and sits in the armchair crossing his legs. “Besides, I have everything under control. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

Amelia looks at him and can’t help but feel a bit hurt. Tommy usually tells her everything no matter the importance saying that he values her opinion and wants to hear the situation from a different angle, “If it has something to do with the family then I bloody think it’s mine and the whole family’s concern.” Amelia stands and moves to stand in front of Tommy with her arms crossed, “You saw what they done to Arthur for God knows what reason. What if it happens again to John or Ada or worse Finn—”

“It won’t happen again, Amelia. I’m making sure of it.” Tommy interrupts Amelia. His hands gripping the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles are turning pale.

Frustrated, Amelia starts pacing back and forth, “I just don’t understand what the problem is and what you aren't telling me.” She stops pacing and looks Tommy in the eyes hoping what she is about to ask isn’t true. “You have the guns, don’t you?”

Tommy’s face has the answer written all of over it, and Amelia can feel her blood heating. “Are you insane? Of course, you are because no sane person would be hiding the stolen guns the bloody government is looking for.”

“Will you be quiet,” Tommy snaps in a hushed tone, “All of Birmingham doesn't need to hear you.”

Amelia puts her hands over her face and lets out a frustrated sigh. She moves over to stand by the window taking the place Tommy was at before. She can see two small girls playing with rocks, dirt covering their already gray dresses. Amelia can’t help but miss the innocence of being a child in a moment like this. The only thing on your mind being games and wonder at the world around you. Having no idea that the world is dangerous and falling apart.

When she looks back at Tommy, he is looking at her the same way he has since they met when they were barely teenagers, a silent way of asking her to be on his side and to keep his secrets, no matter what. Normally she would never waver, but with this— “Why do you have them, and who all knows?”

“It was an accident. My boys were on a regular pick up, nothing out of the ordinary, and they must have been drunk or not paying attention,” Tommy exhales loudly and pours another whiskey. “They grabbed the wrong crate and brought it back to Charlie’s yard and that’s where it sits and holds Lewis Machine Guns, ammunition, semi-automatic rifles, and pistols with their shells. And the only people who know are the idiots who got it in the first place, Charlie, Curly, me, and now you.”

Amelia nods and doesn’t say anything, can’t find the words to speak them. She can’t decide if she is surprised something liked this happened, but ultimately, she isn’t. Everything was going seemingly well for a while, so of course, some problem such as this had to make its way into their lives, “You have to get rid of them, dump them in the cut or put them back where you found them. Campbell will hang you if he discovers you have the guns. You can’t do that to the family.” You can't do that to me. Amelia thought but didn’t say.

She wraps a loose thread from her dress around her fingers and pulls tight. The thread breaking with ease, leaving a red ring on her pointer finger. Amelia has always been a fidget, especially when she’s nervous.

Tommy sensing her uneasiness gets up and makes his way over and puts his hands on Amelia’s shoulders trying to get her to look at him and says, “It’s nothing for you to worry about, Millie. This isn’t women’s business; I’ve got it handled.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it became women’s business when all of you got on that train to France, Tommy. What’s changed now?” Amelia finally lifts her head and meets his gaze.

“We came back.”

Amelia looks at him and shakes her head. “No, you didn’t, you’re still there, Tom. Maybe not all the time, but sometimes I see that look in your eye. You might be here physically but mentally, you are back there.”

A shadow goes over Tommy’s face, and he moves back from her as though he is making room for his breathing, tugging at his collar to loosen it. Amelia didn’t move closer because if he starts panicking she doesn’t want to crowd him and make it worse. From working at the hospital, she knows different people want different things when they are having a bout of panic.

“At The Garrison, Danny had a fit and knocked over tables and chairs and shouting like he was still in the trenches. Freddie and I got him calmed down or at least we thought,” Tommy stammered still trying to catch his breath. He picks up his glass and downs it before continuing, “he then and went and killed an Italian waiter with two other Italians watching and now they want Danny dead for it.”

“What?” Amelia gasps, “There must be something we can do. You can’t kill Danny; it’s not his fault. Surely they will understand.” Amelia said this even though she knows there is nothing that can be done. The death of one means death for another.

“You know there’s nothing we can do. It’s either I do it or they do.”

Amelia wracks her brain thinking of a way out of this. Danny doesn’t deserve to die because of his past trauma from the war. No one does. “Tommy, what if there was a way to shoot Danny and make him appear dead, but in reality, he is still alive.”

Tommy leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He has a smirk on his face and light has returned to Tommy’s eyes. Scheming has always been one of Tommy’s favorite pastimes. “I’m listening.”

“You know that butcher shop down by my house?” Amelia asks and when Tommy nods she continues, “I happen to be friends with his son, he works at the hospital with me, so what if you get some sheep’s brain or something and find a way to shoot that so the blood goes everywhere, and the Italians think that Danny is dead. You said you had some business in London, send Danny there to do it.”

“Amelia, that might work.”

“I’m glad I may be of service to the cause, Mr. Shelby.” Amelia jokes and they both lightly laugh.

Tommy reaches for his cigarettes and matches but they are just out of reach, so Amelia grabs them and hands them to him, their hands lightly brushing. The contact making a tiny spark run through Amelia making her pull her arm away. It is something she always reads about in her novels, that jolt of electricity when the love interest and main character touch.

It is also something she always ignores when it comes to Tommy and herself, or she tries to forget about it, but it is becoming more difficult with each passing day. The glances, the touching, the secret whispers back and forth, and the familiarity with each other is sometimes too much for her, reminding her of old times the two used to share. There may have been a time and place for them but she is afraid that time may be over, so she never says anything and neither does he. Everything is too different now.

Amelia watches Tommy as he lights the cigarette in silence, her eyes following the smoke as it slowly dances its way up to the ceiling. The smell encases the room and it makes Amelia want to cover her nose but she doesn’t. She has always hated the smell of them but with Tommy, she doesn’t mind it. The smell of cigarette is something that is a part of him so much so that often she would find herself missing it when he was in France.

“How have you been sleeping?” Amelia questions, finally breaking the silence after a few moments. “Are you still having nightmares?”

Tommy doesn’t answer right away but when he does he murmurs, “Its okay, but the dreams are still there.” He shakes his head, his hair going in his eyes. The urge to move it out of his face is there but Amelia pushes it down like a cinder block. “Sometimes I wake up before the explosion and sometimes I don’t.”

Amelia nods understanding. “I still dream of my father. Sometimes they are a good and happy, but other times he will look at me and motion for me like he is beckoning me to come to him, but when I try to move I’m stuck and he then starts screaming at me to hurry up but it’s like I’m frozen to the spot; I never get to find out what is behind me. I only see the horror on his face.”

Every time she dreams of her father, it’s as though he is really there like when she wakes up he will be sitting in his favorite chair reading the paper or laughing at something Amelia had said; the sound still present in her ears long after she wakes. She knows it is a dream but she can’t help the disappointment that settles in her stomach when she remembers he is actually gone and will never come back—no matter how hard she wishes.

“Amelia there was nothing you could have done. You were only twelve and the doctors did all they could.”

“I know.” Amelia wiped a tear before it had a chance to escape down her face. “That doesn’t mean it can’t hurt.”

They were quiet for a few moments, the silence hanging in the air like a cloud of smoke and if Amelia breathed it would surely choke her.

Tommy coughs while stretching out his long legs, his trouser moving up around his ankles. “When was the last time you went home?”

Amelia scoffs. She did not feel like having this conversation about home and her mother. “I went home two days ago to get a change of clothes for my shift. I’ve been at the hospital or here since.”

“You need to go home, Millie.”

“Do you know that first thing my mother said to me when I got home?” Amelia asks not looking at Tommy only picking at her nails.”

“No.”

She laughs halfheartedly, “The second I walk in the door, the first thing she asks is if I paid the rent. No greetings or pleasantries, only a question about money. It’s as if I’m not her daughter anymore.”

Tommy comes to stand in front of her and lifts her head with his finger so she is looking straight at him, ice blue eyes meeting russet brown ones. Purple splotches stain the pale skin around them, proving his tiredness. She watches as he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing slowly as if he is swallowing words he wishes he could say. “One day, you are going to get out of there and then you will be able to breathe and finally relax your shoulders and clear that head of yours, but for now, Millie, you need to go home.”

Amelia grabs his arm and removes from her chin, but she doesn’t break eye contact with him, “I’ll go home, but I want to help you the guns, or something. I can help you, please.”

“It’s going to be messy and could get dangerous. I don’t want you around that.”

I can handle it, Thomas.”

Tommy nods, never doubting it, “I know, I just don’t want you hurt.”

“Then I won’t get hurt,” Amelia responds and moves around him to go to the door,

“How did the horse charm go? Do you think it will work?”

“They did it and we’ll know on race day.” He shrugs making to follow her out the door, “and Amelia, just keep your eyes and ears open and tell me if you hear anything suspicious.”

“You got it, boss.”

~~~~~~

Amelia said she would go home, but she didn’t say she would go home sober. She slowly made her way to The Garrison, wanting, no, craving the drink that will send her into the sweet oblivion that is sleep.

Amelia’s walk was a short and quiet one, the only noise seemed to be the thoughts exploding in her head about the situation Tommy presented to her. She can’t help but have a twinge in her stomach that this is not going to end well, but she does know that will get through it no matter the outcome. They will always walk through hell together and make it to the other side.

The bar was loud but that was to be expected. The place is littered with people she knows and people who she has never laid eyes on in her life. People are dancing with their hands up to music that isn’t there. Some are gathered around tables playing cards with the money they just got paid. The whole place is chaotic but the craziness is what the bar was made for. A joint to drink booze and not think about your problems that hit you the minute you walk in your front door.

“Well if it isn’t Miss Hastings.”

Amelia spins around and is greeted by an older man who is looking at her with a smile. He has soot on his face from the coal job she knows he works tirelessly at. She matches his grin and stretches her arms out towards him. “George, long time no see, sir.” She pulls her old friend in and squeezes tightly and pulls back putting her hands on his shoulders. “I hope you’re well.”

George nods. “I could complain but why would I want to.”

“And the same goes for your wife and kids, I hope.”

“Yes, all thanks to you, Martha’s sore throat cleared up wonderfully.”

Amelia laughs, “It wasn’t me. Tea, honey, and good rest did all the work.”

After parting ways with George, Amelia finds an empty bar stool and even though she is sitting away from most of the patrons, she can still hear their conversations as though everyone is trying to be louder than the rest. Most of the talk is of work, failed marriages, on-the-side girlfriends, and the occasional whispering of the new chief inspector who has strolled into town thinking he owns the place.

Amelia leaned in closer trying to catch any information they might have but she misses what he says because of the roar of shouting in the back from some bloke who decided to wear whiskey instead of drink it.

“They are quite a loud lot aren’t they?”

“As loud as they come, I’d say.” Amelia looks up and meets the gaze of the girl she ran into earlier standing behind the bar wiping down a glass. “Hey, I’m sorry I about earlier, I can be a mad clutz when I’m in a rush.”

“It’s fine. I wasn’t paying attention to where my feet were headed.” The girl, Grace, puts down the glass and extends her hand out. “I’m Grace.”

Amelia shakes her hand noting the softness of it. Seemingly too soft especially to work in a place like this. “Amelia.”

Grace smiles and moves down a bit to pick up a gentleman’s glass to refill when she asks, “What can I get for you, Amelia? Harry said it’s on the house.”

“Irish Whiskey and you can leave the bottle.”

“Hard night?” Grace questions when she sits the glass in front of Amelia.

Amelia takes a swig before answering letting the amber liquid slide down her throat leaving a burning trail in its wake, “We all stress, some days are more stressful than others.”

“I understand that completely.” Grace replies twisting the rag in her hands seemingly catching her eye on something or someone, but Amelia doesn’t turn to look because Amelia is taking the chance to look her over.

Grace is very pretty with the blonde hair and blue eyes of an upper-class lady she would have met when Amelia was still in the class herself. At all the society parties her parents would drag her to when she was a young girl. She seems more like a girl that would work at the hospital with her not serving her whiskey at The Garrison.

Grace turns back to her and gives her a smile. “You wanna talk about? Your bad day I mean.”

Amelia pours another glass, “Can’t. Promised I wouldn’t tell a soul. Just know that I learned something that could be harmful to people I care about if it was found out.”

A light seemingly sparks in Grace’s eye and she looks down trying to hide it, but Amelia notices it immediately. She gave the vaguest detail she could just to see if her curiosity was going the right direction and it seems like it is. Watch out for the barmaid called Grace.

Amelia stands up and fishes out the money needed to pay for the whiskey and puts it on the table. “Well, I’ll be seeing you around then for more chats perhaps, when the bar isn’t as crowded. Us Small Heath girls have to stick together.”

Amelia gives her a warm smile, which Grace returns, and picks up the bottle and turns to leave when Grace says, “Harry said it’s on the house.”

“Harry says a lot of things besides he has a new salary to pay.”

Amelia walks through the double doors of the bar and makes her way home.