#Arthur: Alright just wait here Cathy.

[everydayshalloween]

Catherine of Thouars follows Arthur around the most because she doesn’t like being alone and he’s the only sibling she can find so far.

[seven-homosexual-dinosaurs]

Say you won’t let go

My first song fic, let’s see how this goes :)

(Or rather, a one shot based very loosely around a song that at this point might not even be a song fic)

Based off the song “Say you won’t let go” by James Arthur (obviously)

Cathy had met Anne on a cool autumn night, standing in the corner alone at some party Thomas had convinced her to attend. Long abandoned by the latter, she scrolled through her phone absentmindedly. People danced and drank around her, the sound of bad decisions in the making filling her ears.

She’d looked up from her phone, only to come face to face with a girl about her age. Glossy, chocolate brown hair fell past her shoulders to rest on her lower back. Piercing emerald eyes gazed at Cathy nervously, a tint of pink staining her cheeks as her hands scratched at the back of her neck nervously. She wore a dark grey jacket over a deep green crop top, as well as a pair of ripped skinny jeans.

Cathy took a moment to collect herself, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

“Hi,”

Cathy smiled at the girl awkwardly. The girl brightened slightly at that, flashing her a brilliant smile.

“Hey,” she greeted, “I couldn’t help but notice you were looking kinda lonely over here and I think you look really pretty and sorry I just kind of blurted that out for no reason but doyouwannadancewithme?”

Cathy blinked at her blankly, taking a moment to process her words. As soon as they fully sank in, she felt a bright blush creeping along her face. She had half a mind to refute the offer, to remind herself she already had a boyfriend. Yet what harm could one dance do? Besides, it wasn’t like it would really do anything, right?

“Yeah!” she answered finally, a dorky smile spreading across her face, “Yeah, I’d like that,”

The mysterious stranger led her onto the dance floor, an excited grin overtaking her face. They swayed to the music gently, and despite her previously unsavory mood, she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her as the stranger twirled her around, singing along to the music joyfully. 

“I didn’t catch your name?” 

The stranger winked at her mischievously.

“Anne Boleyn, at your service,”

The music slowed, as did their dancing. Swaying to the music slowly, Anne rested her head on Cathy’s shoulder.

“And what about you, pretty-stranger-I-met-at-a-party?”

Cathy blushed at the description, her heart quickening. 

“Parr. Catherine Parr, but everyone just calls me Cathy,” She answered.

“Cathy,” Anne’s lips twitched into a smile. “I like it, it’s a nice name,”

“Thanks, I got it for my birthday,” Cathy deadpanned. Anne laughed, the noise sounding like heaven to Cathy’s ears. 

“Well Cathy,” Anne began playfully, “what’s a pretty lady like you doing in a shithole like this?”

“You flatter me,” Cathy answered blankly, despite the growing blush spreading across her face. Anne grinned at her response, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“...Well?” Anne asked, curiosity seeping into her voice. Cathy laughed awkwardly, carefully avoiding Anne’s gaze.

“Well my boyfriend kind of dragged me here,” She answered. Anne’s smile dimmed slightly at that, although it was back at full force as soon as it was gone. 

“Really? Who’s the lucky guy?” She inquired. Cathy cleared her throat uncomfortably, preparing for what was to come.

“Thomas. Thomas Seymour,”

She waited for the inevitable “Really?” or “You’re so lucky!” that always came whenever someone learnt of their relationship. It was getting annoying, really. She already had enough of her family telling her of how lucky she was to date a man like Thomas, she didn’t need to add more people to the mix.

Anne did none of those things. Instead, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. Not a good reaction, but having some variety was nice.

“Thomas? I know that guy, he’s kind of a dick,”

Cathy frowned.

“Hey, I know he can come off as unpleasant at times, but he’s really a good guy at heart,” Cathy countered. Anne grimaced doubtfully.

“No, really, I’m serious. I’m friends with his sister, he’s a real piece of work,”

Cathy rubbed her shoulder uncomfortably, stepping away from the Boleyn girl apprehensively. 

“Yeah, well, I should probably go find him anyways. It’s getting late, so...”

Not waiting for an answer, she took off. She heard Anne yell something behind her, but she ignored it, choosing to weave her way through the crowd instead. What did she care what some stranger thought of her relationship, it’s not like it mattered anyways. It’s not like the fact that Thomas never told her he had a sister bothered her, everyone has their secrets.

“Tom? Thomas?” she called, ignoring the growing feeling of dread in her chest. Walking over past the kitchen, she finally found what she was looking for. Well, sort of.

Thomas sat on the worn couch, chatting excitedly with a girl Cathy recognized as her old friend Bethany. His hand rested on her waist, pulling her close to him as he pecked her lips, prompting a laugh from the latter. He cupped her cheeks gently, pulling her in for another kiss.

Cathy felt cold, a numb feeling overcoming her. 

“Thomas?” Her voice sounded distant to her ears, as if spoken by another person. He didn’t respond, Cathy felt as if she couldn’t breath. She ran from the room, she needed to get away from here. From everything. her feet carried her blindly, sweat gathering on her brow as an ill feeling settled in her stomach. 

Coming to a stop, she looked around to see where her feet had carried her.

She appeared to be in some kind on park, littered with all kinds of trees. Stars twinkled in the night sky, illuminating the empty park. Leaning against a tree, she lurched forwards to throw up, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

Retching heavily, she jumped as felt a hand pull her hair out of her face. Anne Boleyn gazed at her, worry evident in her eyes.

“You alright mate?” she asked sympathetically. Cathy wanted to say yes, to tell her to go away and leave her alone. She wanted to pretend she was fine, to go back over to the party and fall into Thomas’ arms.

Oh god, Thomas....

She gagged, spewing the contents of her stomach violently. She felt Anne rubbing circles in her back, whispering quiet reassurances in her ear. Feeling her nausea subside slightly, she fell limp in Anne’s arms.

“What happened?” she asked gently. Cathy paused spitting some leftover bile from her mouth.

“You were right about Thomas, he... he...!”

Cathy couldn’t finish. It was as if saying the words would make them come true, she’d be forced to accept what had transpired before her very eyes. Anne pulled the taller girl into a tight hug, wiping her tears away gently with her thumb.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she whispered softly. Cathy sniffled quietly, hiding her face in the crook of Anne’s neck. 

“I don’t know why you’re even putting up with my shit anyways,” she choked out, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “You barely know me, why’re you even helping?”

Anne frowned at her, pulling her close.

“Hey, none of that, okay? Even if I don’t know you that well, I can’t just let you go through this alone”

“Besides,” her face blushed a bright red and she looked down at her feet “I kind of know you. You have Miss Greene for linguistics, right?”

Cathy looked up at Anne in surprise.

“Yeah, how-”

“We’re in the same class. You’re the girl in the blue hoodie that always has a coffee with her,”

Cathy nodded slowly, taking a moment to process the information. Rubbing the wetness out of her eyes, she looked Anne over once more, attempting to match the Boleyn girl to her memory.

“Sorry I didn’t recognize you,” she mumbled numbly. Anne waved her hand dismissively, shrugging her apology off. 

“It’s fine, you look in a world of your own most days and we’ve never talked. I wouldn’t expect you to recognize me anyways,”

Cathy nodded in understanding.

“Wait...” she began slowly, “If that’s the case, then how come you recognize me?”

Anne blushed, carefully avoiding Cathy’s gaze.

“No particular reason. You mentioned Thomas earlier, right? What happened?” 

Cathy hesitated, looking away from Anne.

“Nothing important, I’m sure I just need to talk to him,”

Anne eyed her doubtfully, and Cathy felt a twinge of anger. She just had to talk to him, she was sure there was something to the story she was missing. There had to be.

Look, I’m going back to talk to him, whether you like it or not. You can stay here if you want, but I’m going,”

Turning away from Anne, she startled as she felt a firm hand on her shoulder. Emerald eyes gazed at her (albeit worriedly), grim determination set into her face.

“No, I’ll come,”

The night was windy, Cathy realized as she drew her arms around her with a shudder. Dead leaves fluttered through the air around her, crinkling and breaking in the cool autumn breeze. The yellow glow of the street lamps illuminated the empty street, flickering and flashing in the night. It was really quite beautiful, Cathy noted. There was something otherworldly about it, how the gentle breeze swayed the leaves in the trees, the little group’s footsteps echoing on the pavement.

She knew they’d reached the house before even laying eyes on it. Music blared through the windows, the reek of alcohol and sweat tainting the air even as they stood in the driveway. Ignoring the worried glance Anne sent her way, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Cathy had no trouble locating Thomas, something which came both as a disappointment and a relief. Said relief was rapidly quelled as her eyes locked onto Thomas. The situation hadn’t de-escalated, rather, it appeared far worse than before. 

“Cathy? Did you- oh,” Anne faced shifted into a scowl as she took in the scene before her. She glowered at Thomas, muttering curses under her breath as Cathy felt tears gather in her eyes. She didn’t know why she thought it would have changed. She didn’t know why she thought it would have been different.

“-athy? Cathy?” Anne’s voice jolted her from her reverie. Her voice was laced with concern, although her eyes held nothing but contempt for the man before her. Taking in Cathy’s dazed expression, Anne shrugged her jacket off, placing it gingerly around Cathy’s shoulders.

“Here, keep an eye on this for me, will you? I’ll handle good ‘ol shithead over there,”

Cathy nodded numbly, pale knuckles gripping the jacket tightly. Sending one last glance towards Cathy, Anne set off towards Thomas, grim determination set into her face.

Meeting eyes with the Boleyn girl, her gave smiled at her charmingly. Resisting the urge to gag, Anne answered his smile with a sickly sweet smile of her own. Gesturing to Bethany, still in his arms, she spoke.

“Hey, don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“That ol’ gal? She doesn’t have to know,” he winked. 

“Really now?” Anne hissed through grit teeth, “You really are exactly how Jane described you and more,”

“Jane?” he asked, looking around the room. It was then, it appeared, that he finally noticed the frozen Parr at the entrance. Jumping up, he shoved Bethany off of him unceremoniously.

“Cathy!” he yelped. Cathy fixed him with an icy glare.

“That’s “Catherine” to you Thomas,” she hissed. Stumbling towards her, Thomas froze as Anne stepped before Cathy protectively. 

“I wouldn’t suggest coming any closer unless you wanna learn just how much damage these heels can do,” she threatened. Thomas paled, tripping over himself as he hurried to get away from the seething Boleyn girl. The rev of a car engine outside informed the two of his departure.

Turning to Cathy, Anne regarded her carefully.

“You alright mate? That can’t have been easy”

Cathy shrugged nonchalantly. Truth be told, she didn’t know. She felt angry and heartbroken, relieved and confused. Anne frowned, rubbing her neck in thought. Suddenly, a smile spread across her lips.

“Well then, I think I might have something to cheer you up,” 

Extending an arm to Cathy, she offered the girl a dorky grin.

“We never did finish our dance, did we?”

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

Anne awoke slowly, squinting in the harsh sunlight. Looking around, she smiled as her eyes landed on the slumbering Cathy beside her. She snored lightly, hugging a pillow tightly to her chest. Most days, Cathy would be up an awake at the crack of dawn, making breakfast and getting ready for the day. Today, however, proved different. A nasty bout of the flu had ravaged the house for a week, and Cathy proved to be it’s biggest victim. Even as she made a speedy recovery, her energy remained quite low, as proven by her slumbering figure.

Anne smiled as the door creaked open, two little figures padding into the room quietly. A freckled face peeked over the bed as Elizabeth Boleyn-Parr looked over to her mom with wide eyes.

“Hi mama,” she whispered, swinging her little body onto the bed and crawling into Anne’s arms. A little whine came from the side of the bed, a mess of black curls peeping over the bedside. Holding Liz with one arm, Anne lifted Mae off the ground onto her lap. Mae crawled over to Cathy, poking her cheek with a grubby finger.

“Mommy?” she asked curiously. Planting a kiss to her forehead, Anne smiled at her gently.

“Use your words baby,” she encouraged. Mae looked over to Cathy once more, placing a little hand on her cheek.

“I want mommy,” she whispered. Anne smiled proudly, gently prying Mae’s hands away from the sleeping Parr.

“Mommy’s sleeping right now, but she’ll be awake later,”

Mae pouted, shaking Cathy’s shoulders sadly. Crawling over to her sister, Liz grabbed her hands and pulled them away from their mom.

“Mae, stop! Mommy needs to sleep!” She whispered urgently. Mae whined, sticking her thumb in her mouth angerly. Faced with the upset toddler, Anne pulled both girls into her lap.

“Well Mae, don’t you wanna help Lizzie get ready for school?”

Mae looked from Cathy to Liz before nodding slowly, resting her head in the crook of Anne’s neck. Standing, Anne was careful not to disturb her sleeping partner as she rested Mae on her hip. Holding Liz’s hand, the group made their way out the room towards the kitchen.

“Do you think you could get dressed on your own today?” Anne inquired. Liz grinned toothily, shooting her a thumbs up.

“Yeah!” she cheered, running back up the stairs to her room. Watching her stumble up the stairs, Anne turned to the toddler in her arms with a smile.

“Well then, how about some breakfast?” she asked sweetly, bopping Mae’s nose. Mae giggled at the motion, nodding enthusiastically with a clap of her hands. Coming into the kitchen, she placed Mae on her high chair. Flipping through the cookbook Catalina had gifted the family the previous year, her lips twitched into a smile as her eyes landed on a blueberry pancake recipe.

“Hey, how would you feel about some pancakes?” she questioned. Mae kicked her feet happily, throwing her hands in the air.

“Panckies!” she cheered. Anne chuckled, grabbing the flour from the cupboard. 

“Panckies it is,”

Anne set to work making breakfast, chatting amicably with the happy toddler. Yawning, Liz padded down the stairs. She wore a a grey hoodie, along with a purple skirt and blue leggings. Sticking a blue journal in her sparkly green backpack, she trotted up to Anne.

“Mama? Where’s my lunch?” 

“It’s the brown bag in the fridge,” Anne gestured to the item in question, dropping a dollop of batter on the pan. Liz stuffed the bag in her pack, sneaking a fudge cookie into her lunch. Grabbing a pancake for Mae and Liz each, Anne grabbed a small stack for herself and sat down with the kids. Cutting up their pancakes, Anne handed both girls their breakfast.

“Mama, I want syrup,” Mae protested, pushing her plate back at Anne. Anne sighed, ruffling her daughter’s hair.

“Sorry love, mama forgot to pick any up when we went shopping,” she smiled sheepishly, “But I promise we’ll pick some up on the way to school,”

Mae considered it before nodding, shoving bits of pancake in her mouth. The group ate in a comfortable silence, punctuated by the occasional scrape of cutlery or drop of a fork. Anne wiped the girl’s mouths with a napkin, grabbing the plates and placing them in the dishwasher. Patting Liz’s head, Anne picked Mae off of her chair.

“Could you wait at the door while me and Mae get ready?”

Liz nodded, running off to find her shoes.

Heading up to her room, Anne slipped out of her pajamas and into a green button up shirt and jeans. Dressing Mae to be much more of a challenge, seeing as the child in question wriggled about and refused to sit still. Finally, Anne headed downstairs, a dress clad Mae in her arms. Slipping into her shoes, Anne sent Liz an apologetic smile.

“Sorry for the wait Liz, Mae was feeling a little fidgety,”

Buckling Mae and Liz into their respective seats, Anne pulled her phone out to send Cathy a quick message.

-----------

8:16 AM

You: Hey Cath, I’m out dropping Liz off at school and Mae at Jane’s place, so it’s just you at home for now. Remember to take it easy, you still need to rest. In case you do wake up in time to read this message, breakfast’s in the kitchen. Love you <3

-----------

Slipping into the driver’s seat, Anne pulled out of the driveway as the group made it’s way to the school. Ten minutes and many yelled out songs later found Anne parked in front of the school, waving Liz goodbye. 

“Bye Lizzie, love you! Say hi to Mary for me!” she called. Mae peeked over the window, waving enthusiastically. 

“Bye bye!” she yelled. Liz waved back at the car before running off to the play structure.

Next stop was Jane’s house, where Mae would be having a playdate with Ed, Jane’s son. They got there relatively quickly, Anne noted as she stood at the doorway, resting Mae against her hip. The door opened at her knock, revealing Jane Seymour, her son Ed at her heels. Light blonde hair rested on her head in a messy bun, kind grey eyes greeting Anne warmly. Her figure was short and plump, a sharp contrast to her brother’s tall and muscular build. She was, as Anne liked to say, “friend-shaped”. 

Like his mother, Ed’s hair was light blond, although it was rather thick and puffy. He was a petite figure, although his small size was easily made up for by his large personality. With a temper that rivaled Jane’s and the caring nature to match, he was almost like a miniature version of his mother. 

Jane greeted Anne with a hug, placing a quick kiss to the top of Mae’s head.

“Hello girls!” she beamed warmly, “Right on time, the little one here was getting antsy,”

Anne chuckled at that, easily imagining the little boy running around impatiently, waiting for his friend. 

“Well I’m on time,” she snarked. 

“For once,” Jane muttered under her breath. Anne gasped, clutching a hand to her chest dramatically.

“Me? Late? Never!”

Both children giggled at her theatrics. Wriggling in Anne’s arms, Mae reached a grabby hand towards Jane.

“Mama, lemme go! I wanna play!”

Anne laughed, placing a kiss to Mae’s cheek and setting her on the ground. Mae gave Jane a quick hug before running off with Ed. Watching them go, Jane sighed.

“Well I’d better go make sure no one dies. Tell Cathy I said hi, ‘k?”

“Sure. Love ya!” Anne called, making her way back to the car. 

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

The house was silent when Anne returned, a sure sign that Cathy was still asleep. Grabbing a plate of pancakes and some coffee, Anne made her way over to find Cathy. Walking into their room, Anne couldn’t help the smile that made it’s way onto her lips as she regarded her slumbering wife.

Gentle sunlight illuminated her peaceful face, highlighting every groove and indent in her gingerbread brown face. Wild curls framed her face, sticking out in every direction; a testament to her tossing and turning the night before as her fever stricken body struggled to rest.

Pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, Anne tucked a strand of hair behind her partner’s ear.

“Hey love, it’s time to wake up,” she whispered. Cathy’s face scrunched up slightly as her eyes fluttered open.

“Morning beautiful,” Anne soothed. Cathy yawned, propping herself up on her elbows.

“Morning,” she murmured, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Looking around at the assortment before her, she raised an eyebrow.

“Breakfast in bed? What’s the special occasion?” she teased. 

“You’re sick! Besides, am I not allowed to do something nice for my beautiful wife?” Anne exclaimed. Reaching out for her breakfast, Cathy gave Anne a grateful smile.

“Well, your beautiful wife appreciates it,” Cathy smiled, bumping her head against Anne’s shoulder playfully. Shifting so that she was sitting next to Cathy, Anne wrapped her arm around the former, resting her head on her shoulder. 

“How are you feeling?” Anne inquired. Cathy shrugged, swallowing the bit of pancake in her mouth.

“Honestly? Still pretty shit,”

Anne frowned, placing her hand on Cathy’s forehead. 

“You’re fever’s gone down, you probably just need to rest,” she offered. Cathy nodded wordlessly, laying her head Anne’s chest. Her breathing evened out in a manner of seconds, fork falling onto the bed with a dull Thump.

Carefully, Anne grabbed the plate and mug and placed them on the bedside table. Slowly, she maneuvered their bodies so that they were laying down on the bed, Cathy’s head resting in the crook of her neck.

Listening to the rhythmic sound of Cathy’s breathing, Anne felt her own eyelids grow heavy. She knew she had to go pick Liz and Mae up in a manner of hours, but for now, she’d simply rest her eyes for a moment. She felt Cathy shift slightly, wrapping her arms around Anne’s midsection tightly. The sunlight felt warm on her face, Anne noted as she pulled her blanket up around the two.

The house was quiet. Distantly, Anne heard birds chirping and dogs barking. She could imagine Liz, chatting with her friends excitedly about some tidbit of information they’d found fascinating. She could imagine Mae, building a tower with Ed, only to knock it down with a laugh, Jane fixing lunch behind them as she gazed at the children lovingly. Cathy lay in her arms, snoring lightly as she mumbled something or other in her sleep. It was perfect. 

She held her lover in her arms, and all Anne could think about was how much she loved this woman. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with her, to raise their children together and grow old together. And even after all these years, Anne couldn’t believe Cathy felt the same. She’d felt the same, as they sat in the park and said “I love you” for the first time. As they got married, as they adopted children, Cathy had been with her the whole time. It was peaceful, it was quiet, Anne remarked as she held Cathy close. Cathy had met Anne on a cool autumn night, standing in the corner alone at some party Thomas had convinced her to attend. And ever since then, it had been perfect.

[exauhstedsunflower]

Catalina Tells The Best Stories

The house has been generally quiet all day. They’ve all been doing their own things, or quietly chatting as they pass by each other. Catalina herself had settled down to watch a new series on Netflix. She’d never admit to actually enjoying such a thing, but Love Island had been on her list for quite a while, so she’s very happy to have some time to finally watch it. She watches an entire season in one day, and as she finishes the last episode, snapping out of her Netflix induced haze, she realizes that the house has remained quiet. No one has come to bother her, or ask her any questions, or just check to see where she is, like they normally would. She finds this rather odd considering everyone is definitely home. She’d know if they left. The front door makes a distinctive noise when it opens, and she hadn’t heard it. Everyone is home, and no one has interrupted her show. That never happens.

She gets up from the nest of blankets she created on her bed and walks to her door, then down the hall, listening for signs of life. She slows to a stop as she comes to Kitty’s bedroom door, there’s talking coming from inside. It sounds like laughter. She knocks, and is invited in.

“What’s happening in here?” She questions with fondness at the sight in front of her.

Anne is sitting at the foot of Kitty's bed, while Cathy and Kitty herself are sitting against the headboard. Anna is laying on the carpeted floor next to the bed with a pillow, and Jane has her head on the woman’s stomach as a pillow of her own. They were all talking amongst themselves as she entered.

Kitty’s eyes light up at the sight of Catalina. “Lina should tell one! She tells the best stories!” Is what she gets as a reply. Catalina makes her way further into the room. She decides to join Anne at the end of the bed, the other woman moving to give her space to sit comfortably. The others seem to agree with this statement.

“Absolutely! Lina, tell us a story!” Anne agrees.

“A romantic one, please.”

“Ew, Jane, no. Lina, tell us a war story.”

“Anna, I’ve had enough of stressful stories after Cathy’s go.”

“Alright then Kit, it’s your room. What kind of story do you want?”

Catalina watches this conversation take place with amusement. They’ve been sharing stories, she gathers. Absolute children.

“I kind of agree with Jane. Lina, have you got any romantic stories?”

Catalina hums in thought, but decides pretty quickly that whatever she decides on it can’t be a Henry story. They’re all having too nice of a time to hear about how he treated Lina the first few years after they’d married.

“I think I can manage.” She says, which earns her a cheer. She smiles at that, then starts her story.

“My first husband, Arthur, was very sweet to me. Before I met him we corresponded by letter. All in Latin, though. I didn’t speak English and he didn’t speak Spanish. He’d tell me how he couldn’t wait to meet me, and that he was going to be the best husband he could. And when I was sent for him, while I was afraid and sad to leave my home in Spain, I was also excited to meet him. He always seemed so interested in what I had to say. And he seemed just as excited to actually speak in person.” She could go on forever about everything leading up to them marrying, but spared them the mushy feeling aspect of the boat ride to England.

“When we met we were supposed to speak in Latin, but as it turns out we spoke different dialects, so we still couldn’t understand each other.” There's a murmur of ‘how awful’ from the floor. It has to have been Jane, who is known for being a hopeless romantic. She supposes it was awful. It was certainly quite disappointing to not be able to speak properly after looking forward to doing so for so long.

“A few weeks after the wedding, I was rather lonely. It’s a bit hard not to feel lonely after weeks of almost no communication. And that's not to say we didn’t try! We tried everything, from writing notes to each other to gesturing violently when there was no paper around.” That last part gets some laughter from the bunch, who look very invested in the story so far.

“But still, I felt a bit lonely, and was quite down. So I took to dancing. I was even singing my favorite song. I thought I was alone, but actually Arthur was watching from the door. It was quite embarrassing, actually.” They all try to imagine a young and embarrassed Catalina. It’s hard, because the Catalina they know is so headstrong and collected.

She smiles knowing she has everyone hooked. She watches them all attempt the imagery from the story, then continues, “He laughed at me a bit. But then he came over to me and took my hands, and he tried to mimic my dancing. He was terrible, so I got to laugh at him back.” She chuckles at the memory. “So I taught him to dance my way, then he started singing a song in English, so he taught me a dance from England. Then, as we both realized we were awful, we ended up combining the two.”

“It was a disaster, but it was so fun. We didn’t need to understand each other’s languages to know what the other was thinking. The laughter and dancing said enough.” She finishes. She looks around the room to see that the other queens are staring at her in awe. They often compliment her story telling ability. Catalina credits this to having lived long enough to have stories to tell, though. Still, when they want a story, Catalina is the go to.

“That was so cute!” Kitty squeals as she jumps a bit in her seat. The others give various praise that sounds similar, and she smiles and thanks them.

“And as if to prove that he was so kind to me, there are letters found by historians from him to his family. They all say he was so happy to have me as his wife, and that I was beautiful and smart, all sorts of the nicest things. He would have been the best husband, may God rest his soul.”

[meowdymista]

Van der Driscoll Pt9

Part 8 - Masterlist

"I didn’t know they did table service here," teases Tilly, sitting down with you and Hosea to eat.

The man chuckles in response. “Could you imagine them selling this stuff in a restaurant? Stew du jour?”

You let them chatter as you pull apart a bread roll. Right now, you would rather be tucking into spitroast turkey than the bowl of mulch Hosea so kindly provided you, but you don’t complain. Your ears are straining to translate Charles' hushed conversation with Dutch.

You and Charles had begun to relay your findings to Dutch and Hosea when you had wobbled. Calling Miss Tilly to take you to the round table south of camp, Hosea had soon followed you to make sure you put food into your stomach for “the two of you”. You haven’t been back long, and Charles was still talking with Dutch. Your grip tightened around the spoon. Every minute they spent talking about it was another lost on a search for Arthur.

Voices sound on the other side of the tents. The three of you stop eating and look over.

“Miss Jackson, would you mind checking on the commotion?” asks Hosea casually, his hand outstretched to stop you jumping to your feet, but Dutch striding out of his tent, arms outstretched is plenty confirmation enough.

Relief hits you so hard, you feel as though you’ve been sedated. Meeting the old man’s crinkled brown eyes, you let out a huge sigh.

“Looks like he’s back,” he smiles. “Let him get Dutch up to speed before we go over. You still need to finish that bowl before I excuse you.”

“Miss Grimshaw, I need help!” Dutch’s voice cracks as it carries over the camp. Hosea is no longer looking at you, but looking out at the commotion. “Reverend Swanson?”

You spot Tilly running back over looking unusually worried.

“What’s happening?” asks Hosea as soon as she’s within earshot.

“Swanson!” cries Dutch again.

“It’s Arthur!” she pants. “He fell off his horse an-”

Arthur’s cry is almost a scream. By the time you make it over, Pearson and Dutch have all but dragged him over the grass and onto his bed. “You are safe now, Arthur… you’re safe now…”

“That’s pretty, Dutch.” He rasps out a half crazed chuckle. "That’s reeeaaal pretty.”

“What the hell happened?” demands Hosea.

“Colm happened,” Dutch growls.

“Colm? How could Colm happen? You said he was right behind you!”

“He was!” he argues fiercely, as you push past him to kneel at the head of the bed, brushing the hair from the sweat condensed on his forehead. “Those O’Driscoll rats must have grabbed him afterwards, while he was wandering-”

“Mr Morgan needs medical attention,” Miss Grimshaw announces with a glare at the arguing elders of the group. “Now! Where’s Strauss? Someone bring me his medical supplies!”

Dutch is ushered from under the cover of the tent, leaving Hosea to help Susan divvy up the responsibilities - he sends Karen to get clean water, Mary Beth to get it on the boil, and Tilly to grab whatever herbs and medicines she can find. Bill takes over the watch in case Arthur’s been followed into camp, and Charles rides out to town to locate the Austrian.

Within an hour, Strauss is climbing off the back of Taima, shaking his head as Miss Grimshaw gushes questions. You move away, watching from the foot of the bed as he inspects the wound as best he can with a nearby lantern.

“It’s too dark to work on this yet, Miss Grimshaw,” he announces, his beady eyes concerned as they survey the suffering fever of Arthur’s face. “He’s going into shock from the wound, regardless. I wouldn’t want to upset it further.”

“What does that mean?” you ask, but they are communicating silently, despairingly, even as they prop his feet into the air. You jump as a hand grips your shoulder, patting it clumsily.

“It’s going to be a long night,” the Reverend slurs, flattening his crazed hair, his bloodshot eyes layered with fear and regret. “He won’t be alone if you’d rather not stay.”

“God’s sake, Reverend! We don’t need you drinking right now!” snaps Miss Grimshaw, raking her cheeks with the back of her hands.

“Is he going to be ok?” Your voice is barely audible over the rattling of Arthur’s shaky breathing.

“It isn’t looking all that good, Miss,” the Reverend replies when no one else will. “I have my… supply… if he needs it.”

“It could ease his suffering,” muses Strauss. “Perhaps levy some of the fever. Bring it all.”

“All?” repeats the Reverend, but Miss Grimshaw is barking again, smacking him out of the tent as she reels off favours Arthur has pulled to help him out. (“And bring back a chair for Miss LN! I don’t need to be tending to swollen ankles on top of everything else right now!”)

“Isn’t there something we can do?” Your voice cracks as you stroke his hair. He’s awfully pale, his breathing shallow and barely moving the stubble around his lips.

“We can wait.” Strauss packs away his instruments and puts them aside. “Wait to see if he pulls through. If he makes it to the morning, we will be able to get a better idea of what we’re dealing with and how bad the infection is. Perhaps then we will be able to treat it. For now, however...”

“What if he doesn’t?” A flash of pity peeks over the small lenses of his glasses. The world spins as your inner organs dissolve. Before you can stagger, Miss Grimshaw has pushed a chair under you. You catch a glimpse of Dutch as darkness encroaches. His arms are at his side, and as you try to call out on Arthur’s behalf, he turns around and walks away.

*****

Pain. A deep ache in his bones, in his muscles, in his hips and shoulders and neck.

Movement makes stars erupt before his eyes, the grunt that slips through bringing his attention to how dry his mouth and throat are. He all but has to crack his tongue to his lips, to no avail.

His cough is dry - the air moves without friction through his throat and out of his mouth. No phlegm, no mucus, just air moving through a dry windpipe. The jolt of life crunches his ribs and sparks blinding, deafening pain in his left shoulder. Copper licks drily at his hand, calming him, bringing him out of the fog and back into reality.

Opening his eyes is difficult. They’re thick with rest, his eyeballs rolling in their sockets trying to move aside the cloudiness that’s coated them overnight. Light burns through the cracks at every attempt, nothing quite discernable, no texture beyond moggy fuzz.

His ears twitch at the familiar voice:-

“-still you have not told me…. He… Heathcliff. How C... Cath… Catherine is left be… behind? Behind!

“I had Cathy by the hand, and was… ur... urging her on, when all at once she fell down. ‘Run, Heathcliff, run!’ she… she whisp- she whispered. ‘They have let the bull dog… lose? Loose!, and he holds me.’ The dog was… was pulled off. His huge, purple - ton… ton… tongue? His purple tongue hanging half a foot out of his mouth. The man took Cathy up. She was sick. Not from fear, I’m… I’m certain, but from pain.”

Arthur tries to open his eyes again, but still can’t see clearly. He’s struggling to place the name through the swirling memories of red hair and the green bowler hat that accompany the voice.

“Morgan?”

A loud gasp sounds right beside his head, making him flinch with surprise. Copper’s wet nose turns into fingers and hands pulling at his arm, making him yelp out muddled expletives as stars flash brighter than before.

“Arthur? Arthur?”

“W-Where am I?”

“Arthur!” You release his hand, wringing out the cloth suspended in the basin of water and using it to wipe his eyes. Eventually they stay open long enough for the blue and greens of his irises to drink in your face.

“Y/N…” He raises his left arm to touch you, but grunts and lowers it back down. You shush him, pushing his arm back onto the cot and leaning your weight against it to stop him trying again.

“Arthur!” A laugh escapes your stomach, sounding shrill from the lack of use. “Arthur! Are you ok? I can’t believe you’re awake!”

“I can’t believe…” He coughs again, prompting you to wet his lips with the cup of water on his bedside. “Is that Sean reading from an actual book?”

“I told yer, din’t I? Didn’t I tell you, Y/N? I said bet ya anything Morgan cracks his eyes open while I’m readin’ to youse.”

“Are you alright? Can I get you anything?”

He gives you a soft and tired smile, patting your hands with his good arm. “Knock me out again before he talks me into my grave.”

Arthur smirks at the horror on your face, but Sean is stood up behind you, jabbing his finger in his direction as he replants the green bowler hat on his head.

“I’ve been doin’ yer job for yer whilst you’ve been snoozing! Might not ‘ave been readin’ the same story the author intended, like, but-”

Arthur frowns, confused and growing defensive. “You been hittin’ on my woman, Macguire?”

“Pfft! As if she’d let me! Y/N needed a gentleman’s voice to soothe the wain inside her, and since you was otherwise engaged, gettin’ kidnapped an’ all, I figured I’d best step in. You owe me a pretty penny for me labours, Mr Morgan!” He tips his hat, nodding when you ask him to let Hosea and Miss Grimshaw know Arthur’s awake.

“What he say? The baby’s kickin’?”

You laugh breathily, unable to keep the smile from your face as you trace the lines of his face. “I might have twisted the truth,” you admit, pride pricking your chest. “I started a little while back. I know Lenny wants him to practice his reading, so I mentioned you were reading to me and the baby…” Arthur frowns, trying to recall your claims. Your smirk widens. “And since I can’t read myself…”

“I’m sure I’ve seen you readin’ the paper before?”

You laugh loudly before you can stop yourself. “Well Sean hasn’t, so don’t go snitching on me!”

A dull twinkle sparkles in the back of his eyes as he groans, stretching the parts of his body he can move without further injury. “Winnin’ over Dutch’s Boys one by one, eh?”

“If only Mrs Adler could be so easily persuaded,” you sigh. Arthur throws you a questioning look, but Miss Grimshaw marches in before you can elaborate.

“Mr Morgan! Good to see you back with us!”

“How long I been out?”

“Long enough that we thought we was gonna lose you.” You move down the bed, releasing Arthur’s hand but maintaining contact with his leg at all times. You still need to feel the warmth of his skin and the subtle movements of muscle to keep you assured that he’s still here, and still alive. Miss Grimshaw’s checks are brief, and you both get lectured for not finishing the water on the side, but Arthur is already drifting off again by the time she leaves.

“Stay wi’me?” he mumbles, searching feebly for your hand. You move it into his path and smile as he grips it with his remaining strength.

“Always, Arthur.”

***

The following six weeks are the quietest you’ve had in over six months. Everybody gives you space to be together, recognising the time frame for Arthur’s rehabilitation into his outlaw ways and also out of respect for your expanding stomach.

Naturally, his feet get itchy with all the sitting around, so you push his journal onto him. Within a week, he has delicate detailed studies of everyone in camp, including several of you (not all of them with clothing). When he gets some of his strength back, you begin to take walks along the shore, talking about old memories and catching him up on what he’s missed. You reflect on what it could be like if you got out of this life - not that you would. Arthur had his roots deep in this gang, woven into so many of the men and some of the women here, you know that no matter how far you travelled, he would still come back to them somehow, some day.

Eventually Arthur asks you how you’ve been getting on with everybody whilst he’s been resting or unconscious. You admit you spent most of the time at his side, only eating when Hosea or Abigail brought you some dinner and something to drink. You’ve played a lot of dominoes with both of them, read every book in camp, been scorned repeatedly for neglecting your chores (though a part of you feels like Miss Grimshaw was relieved Arthur had someone constantly at his side). Whilst Lenny and Charles have warmed to you a little, Sadie, Javier, and Bill have remained suspicious, most likely because of your quiet escapade to look for Arthur. You’ve overheard whispers around camp that Arthur returned so soon after you because you made a deal with Colm. That some O’Driscoll boys grabbed him, so you could prove yourself trustworthy and get in closer to hand Dutch off to Colm directly.

You don’t mention this to Arthur because you know he doesn’t need to be worked up more after the truth of the ordeal. He has already told you what really happened after he left Dutch and Micah. Colm knew Dutch wouldn’t go walking into an open air parlay without his best shot, so he had created the entire folly to catch Arthur with the intention of enraging Dutch into being careless. 

Your stomach sinks as you remember the image of Dutch walking away from Arthur’s lucid body and the way he fought so hard against any mention of a rescue mission. You keep your lips pressed together. The leader has shown you more leniency and acted less bitter about your presence of late. Funnily enough, your trust in him has waned further - if it weren’t Arthur’s unwavering faith in the man, you would be dragging him out now whilst he was still weak.

One evening, whilst Arthur is getting dressed into dry clothes after your swim, you pass just as Miss Grimshaw stops to greet Uncle and a couple of other men around the fire.

“How you gentlemen keeping?” she asks pleasantly

“Fine, Miss Grimshaw, and you?”

“Just fine, sir, just fine.”

“I must say,” says Uncle. “All this adventuring and wandering over mountain passes, being chased and running for our lives… Surely agrees with you.” He chuckles as thoughtfully as the old man is able. “If I didn’t know, I would think you was the same age as them silly girls.”

“Oh! Away with you, silly man!” she scorns, clearly flattered.

“Oh no, no. Well, if I was five years younger and a thousand dollars richer, well I’d marry you… Make a dishonest woman of you, I would. And that would be the best decision I ever took! You’re a fine woman. You keep it hidden under that sour vinegar face and nasty acid tongue, but I know that’s just a rose’s thorns.”

She tuts. “You’re a silver-tongued flatterer and no mistake.”

“Oh, now I tell the truth, ma’am!”

“I must get back to my work,” she scowls, marching off in the direction of Miss Tilly and Mrs Adler.

With your eyebrows lost in your hairline, you hurry back to the tent, pushing Arthur back through the flaps.

“You will never believe what I just heard!” you hiss. Immediate concern clouds his gaze, but you’re already recalling Miss Grimshaw’s reaction to Uncle’s flirting. He laughs, relaxing as he pulls you into a hug.

“She ain’t interested in him,” he assures you.

“I bet you ten bucks if he asks her out, she’ll say yes!”

“Huh, you’re on!” He’s still smirking as he shakes your hand. “You didn’t see her twenty years ago. There’s no way she’d go from Dutch all the way down to Uncle. She’ll give Micah the time of day until he twists it into some insult, but still, there’s Micah and then there’s Uncle.”

Nevertheless, a few days later, you and Arthur are talking quietly by the stew, sipping on coffee, pondering what to do with your day - perhaps some hunting, perhaps some light pickpocketing - when suddenly Uncle calls to Miss Grimshaw across camp.

“There you are!”

“Me?”

“You.”

“Me?” repeats Miss Grimshaw, clearly as confused as the pair of you.

“Yes, you!” Uncle strolls up to her. “When you gonna let me take you out for an evening, into town, you know, to a - like a magic lantern show or some such?”

“Well, I don’t- I think-” She moves past him to sit on the nearby crate. “I’m getting a little long in the tooth for-!”

“Oh, nonsense! How about tomorrow?”

“Well, let me think.”

“So… that’s a yes?” asks Uncle, leaning forward hopefully. Miss Grimshaw looks at him again, hesitantly, until her shoulders relax, bearing a little vulnerability.

“Okay,” she says finally, her usually hard features softening.

“Well… now, if I’m gonna go out with you, I’m gonna have to look my best, so… Can I borrow ten dollars?”

You and Arthur are too stunned to even snort. Miss Grimshaw stare is icy.

“Can I borrow a few dollars?” tries Uncle. “I’m good for it.”

She turns her head to the pair of you gawping over your morning coffee. A part of you has frozen with regret - in the same second of her showing her softer side she’s immediately been smited with poor etiquette from the stinkiest member of the gang.

“Borrow money?” she asks, voice shaking. You see the rage building behind her eyes as she looks back at Uncle with disgust. “Oh, you horrible man!” she snarls, marching away as Uncle shrugs at you and Arthur.

“Can’t blame a feller for trying,” he chuckles, shuffling off in search of another bottle.

“That’s low, Uncle,” calls Arthur despairingly.

“I’m a bit short right now!” he replies, daring to sound surprised and a little hurt.

“You sure know how to impress the ladies,” he comments, nudging you towards the shore. “Alright, well, we should be getting on.”

“Alright then!”

You gawp at Arthur unable to keep the laugh of disbelief inside. “That what you expected?”

“I don’t even know what to expect no more,” he chuckles despite himself, pressing a cup of coffee into your hand. “Guess I owe you a few bucks.”

“I’m almost disappointed,” you admit as you take a sip, taking Arthur’s arm as he leads you through the tents and caravans. “Never would have thought it, but… If it weren’t for that I woulda pegged them for an alright couple.”

“God forbid she whip him into shape, or he loosen her standards. Might give the girls a bit of relief if Miss Grimshaw got some though.”

“Is that what everyone thinks of you, Mr Morgan?” you tease.

“Well, it came with complications in the end, din’t it?” he retorts, a secret smile in his eyes just for you. “Though Hosea reckons I’d gotten soft before the big O’Driscoll reveal.”

“Softer now you can’t shoot, that’s for sure.” You plant a kiss on the side of his shoulder, taking care not to knock the healing wound.

“Ah, for now.” He takes a deep breath as you reach the water’s edge, watching over the horizon. “Think I’d be itching more without you here to distract me.”

“Now you know how I feel!” You kick off your boots, your stockings coming off with them as you hoist your skirts up your calf to keep them dry as you wade in. “It’s hard going from key outlaw to hand maiden, isn’t it?”

“I’m a maiden now, huh?” He catches your hand and tugs you back into his chest, eyes sparkling with mischief. You giggle as he catches your lips with his. “The help ain’t supposed to help themselves to each other, though, are they?”

“I can make an exception, Mr Morgan.”

He hums appreciatively, kissing you again, forehead resting against yours. “I love you, Miss LN. I mean that.”

There’s nothing you can do to stop the heat from filling your cheeks, so you let them glow with colour. “I love you too, Arthur Morgan.”

Suddenly you catch Miss Grimshaw’s shouts over the camp. You sigh miserably as Arthur chuckles to himself.

“Can’t catch a break,” you groan.

Arthur stoops to steal another kiss from you before you begin wading back to shore. “Be careful! She’s gonna be extra fierce after that show!”

Miss Grimshaw works you harder than the other girls, but whether it’s for your witnessing her embarrassment or because she knows Arthur will do at least half the work is anyone’s guess. When Arthur is well enough, you accompany him out hunting for some turkeys and a couple of deer, and the recovery of the gang’s best shot doesn’t go unnoticed by the other men.

Dutch tells him to go find Bill, Micah, and Sean in Rhodes - something about the Greys needing security. Vague, but for a lead from Bill is not surprising. You wish him luck, remind him you love him and to stay safe, and busy yourself with chores to keep your mind occupied. Your stomach is dropping with dread, but you tell yourself he’ll be fine - after all, how many jobs has he been on before the Micah and Dutch fiasco?

You surprise even yourself with how quickly you finish everything Miss Grimshaw asks you too, but you make the most of it, taking the extra free time to go for a swim. Something about being in the water helps your forever aching back and makes you feel like your usual self again instead of some sort of heavy wall even though the curve of your stomach is barely protruding.

You see Jack playing on the shore and promise Abigail you’ll keep an eye on him whilst she finishes her own worklist. You don’t try to teach him how to swim - Arthur had already tried that and almost ripped the few stitches Strauss had managed to put into his shoulder.

You swim a couple of lengths, watching Jack as he follows the shoreline, collecting interesting pebbles and leaves as he goes. Everything looks ok, until you surface and he is nowhere to be found.

“Jack?” You swim towards where you last saw the boy, and notice his small pile of rocks where he’s been building a house of some sort. Your eyes scour the water’s surface, but you can’t see any bubbles or any other hints of movement other than the fish.

Somewhere in the trees, you can hear unfamiliar voices talking calmly, followed by the little boy’s squeak of a voice -

“Jack!” You whistle your horse, cursing the added weight of your drenched underclothes. Sadie comes running through the trees and catches the reins of your horse, pulling him back.

“And where the hell d’you think you’re going?” she cries, her arms over the saddle in an attempt to stop you from mounting. “We got a runaway O’Driscoll over here!” she calls back.

The voices are fading - you need to go now. She ignores your arguments, still struggling with you and shouting for help. With a deep breath, you punch her in the face, making use of the distraction to gallop away despite the screaming and swearing from behind.

“Jack!” you shout. “Jack!”

You can hear hooves following up behind you, so you dig your heels into the stallion’s flanks urging it on faster. You can’t lose his trail.

Red dirt clouds billow behind you as you try to keep an ear out for voices, but with Sadie screaming threats behind you, it’s difficult. You fly by Kieran who’s on foot with a fishing rod resting on his shoulder. He looks confused as hell, but there’s no time for him to ask as you’re gone before he’s properly opened his mouth.

Raking the treeline to no avail, nausea hits you like a freight train. Who the hell would take a little boy from his family? Was Colm really that desperate to trip Dutch Van der Linde? Your horse almost throws you when Sadie cuts you off, forcing you to a halt. Her eyes are wild, blood drying around her nose and across her cheek where she’s smeared it in the struggle.

“Get the hell back to camp,” she spits, cocking her revolver. “If it weren’t for Arthur I would have shot you already.”

“Sadie, move!” You try to get your horse to sidestep her, but she moves her own, blocking your path easily. “It’s Jack!”

“What’s Jack?”

“I don’t know! He was there and then he wasn’t - if Colm’s got him-!”

She falters, looking around as if expecting the boy to jump out from behind a tree, “How’d you know it’s not John or someone taking him for a ride?”

“They wouldn’t just take him, Sadie! They weren’t familiar voices talking to him and-” You choke back the panic, trying to sidestep her horse again. “He’s a boy, Sadie! He’s a fucking little boy! You think what he did to Arthur was bad?”

She purses her lips but turns her horse. “Which way?”

You try to listen out, but the voices have gone. “I don’t know. We should double back and try to track them.”

“We should get some back up-”

“There’s no time, Mrs Adler!” you hiss. “Go back if you want, but I gotta keep going! I gotta find him!” She tries to protest, but your voice breaks as you shout - “Do you really think I can go back to camp without him?”

****

Returning to camp, heavy with grief and the prospect of informing you of Sean’s fate in Rhodes, Arthur isn’t all that surprised to find a group forming outside Dutch’s tent. What does take him by surprise is Dutch asking him if he’s seen Jack, of all things, followed by a distraught Abigail shouting and making threats if her son is not returned to her immediately.

A missing boy shakes up his priorities, and there is no hesitation as he rides out to Braithwaite Manor with the other men in camp. If anything, a small part of him is relieved to delay telling you about your best friend. Your very first friend after Arthur, you two had been close and Arthur knew having Sean made riding with the Van der Lindes bearable. In all truth, the dread in Arthur’s stomach was whether you would want to stay without someone else watching your back.

He puts it out of his mind, and with the manor fully ablaze, returns to camp with the gang, still focused on a plan of action. The sun is rising and the flaps to the tent are closed. He leaves you to sleep as he talks with Abigail, John, Dutch and Hosea about a game plan to recover Jack from this Angelo Bronte figure Mrs Braithwaite had confessed about.

The Pinkertons walking straight into camp and threatening to return with an army puts another delay on his talking with you. What good is checking in on you if you’re all dead? When Dutch sends him out with John to check Shady Belle is clear for the gang to set up camp, he seizes the opportunity whilst promising himself this will be the very last delay. Whilst trying to comfort John, he can’t help but let his mind wander to you. With Sean dead and buried and the camp being packed up in such a hurry, you must be feeling pressured, if not completely overwhelmed. Swallowing his guilt, he remembers you telling him that the gang will always come first. It makes him itch. You should be his priority - you are his whole world, and if he lost you because he was looking out for everyone else…

For the first time, he considers leaving the gang. When Hosea had asked whether he was thinking of getting out of the life on their ride to hunt a legendary grizzly bear, he was honest when he said of course not. Mostly because even though he could feel himself falling in love with you after a few coincidental meetings in Valentine, he never dreamed his feelings would be requited. Even after recognising you through your O’Driscoll get up, even after trying to ship you out of harm’s way and finding out your relationship was developing its own personality inside you, leaving his life as an outlaw wasn’t on the table.

Now, something was changing. How could he be the man you deserved if he was chasing after other people? Of course he wants Jack home safe as much as John or Abigail, but the guilt won’t excuse him for not talking to you yet. They needed him, but so did you.

“Welcome home, all of ya,” he shouts up the drive as the caravans and wagons roll up to the front door of the abandoned plantation house. “To my humble abode! Ignore the corpses and the alligators, it’s paradise…”

“I love it!” cries Dutch, arms outstretched and his grin stretched wider. “Miss Grimshaw, Mr Pearson, would you two kindly… work your magic? Arthur, take a ride with me?”

“Sure, just give me a minute?” It doesn’t escape Dutch’s notice that Arthur is counting the faces. “I should talk to Y/N, make sure she’s alright.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” bluffs Dutch, but Arthur is craning his neck.

“Where is she? You leave her behind?”

“Of course not, Arthur, she’s with Sadie.”

“With Sadie?” Arthur’s lips thin, eyes darkening with suspicion. “Why the hell she with Sadie?”

Hosea walks up, already poker faced. “They just needed to finish up a little something. Nothing serious.”

“I’m sure, but Sadie?” He looks between them, concern creeping into the lines of his face. “Mrs Adler ain’t too friendly with her for her running with the O’Driscolls.”

“Dutch!” Molly comes running up between the wagons as Hosea ushers Arthur onto his horse. “Can I have a word with ye?”

“Not now! Come on, Arthur.”

Reluctantly, Arthur follows Dutch out of camp, only half listening to him as he curses her request to “talk”, talking about their future, the plan to recover Jack, the possibility of a life away from America. When they ride up to the bridge, what’s left of Arthur’s stomach flops with dismay.

“Big cities… they’re…”

“Always repellent?” Arthur nods his head. “I’ll find you in there.” He pulls The Count off onto another path, leaving Arthur on the bridge. “Go see what you can figure out.”

“Yes,” murmurs Arthur, bracing himself as he trots his horse through the slums. “If you find me before nightfall, that is.”

[yourdeepestfathoms]

shout out loud (the moment of the peak) [Six Cowgirl AU]

Derby Lineup

Talk Of The Town and Arthur

All That Jazz and Samuel

SheBeast and Bulldog

Rookie’s Gambling Chance and Lucas

Hell Comes Handily and Salt

Out-Burn Kamikaze and Hurricane

Lord of The Flies and George

Donut Tell Daddy and Hugo

Jewel-Eyes and Rodric

Deepest Fathoms and Rocky

———————

The fair grounds was a cacophony of sounds: shouting, neighing, clatters of tools, hoofsteps, laughing- it was all swirling into one big mess of noises, and Joan could barely think because of it. By the way Blazer kept fidgeting and tensing his muscles beneath her thighs, he was antsy, too.

“It’s okay, boy, it’s okay.” Joan murmured to her steed. She saw his ears flick back and his haunches shift underneath her, but he doesn’t rear. “I know, it’s loud. I don’t like it, either.”

Carefully, she slid off of Blazer’s back and walked him to the stables where Bessie and Maria were waiting for her.

“Maria got you registered,” Bessie said. “You need to go get dressed.”

“Dressed...? Oh, right! Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go do that!”

Bessie shook her head as she watched the girl scurry off to the jockey dressing rooms.

“She’s a scruffy little thing, isn’t she?”

Bessie turned around to see Aragon standing there, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Catherine.” Bessie said, “I didn’t know you were racing today.”

“I’m not,” Aragon said, “I came to watch. We all did. Jane’s up in the stands with the others already.” She paused to glance at Blazer, who was fretting anxiously in his stall. “Now...about your pair here.”

“I know what it looks like, Catherine.” Bessie quickly said, “They don’t look like much. It probably seems like I scraped them both off of the street or something, but they have a light.”

Aragon quirks a brow up.

“You should see them run. They know what they’re doing. I believe in them.”

“I hope so, Elizabeth.” Aragon said, “Your girl is gonna need some support. This is her first race. She’s not going to have many people on her side yet.”

Bessie swallowed hard at that revelation. Most of the stands will be screaming against Joan, not for her. She just hoped the girl and her horse would be able to hold out for the entirety of the race.

—————

Joan is sitting in the jockey room, in a far corner, away from all of the other jockeys. She had already dressed out and was patiently waiting for her race of the day. She was clad in black riding boots, white pants, and a checkered indigo and white jacket. Her safety helmet and whip were beside her on the bench she was sitting on. She already had her long blonde hair done in a braid and then a tight bun so she could tuck it safely out of eyesight when the time came to race.

At first glances, she almost looked like she knew what she was doing.

Okay, that was an exaggeration. She did know what she was doing, she’s been training, but the anxiety of her first race was getting to her. For example, she had woken up that morning mid-panic attack before her eyes even fully opened.

And she knew for a fact jockeys that knew what they were doing wouldn’t have that happen to her.

It didn’t help that everyone else in the room was a man, meaning she was not only the youngest, but also the only girl. Now she really had to prove herself worthy of being equal to her male counterparts.

Hoping to distract herself from her festering anxiety, Joan looked up to watch the big TV up on the far wall, where the hosts of the racing channel talked about the odds and favorites of the next race today. SheBeast was a close second favorite going into the race, next to another horse by the name of Lord of The Flies.

Names Joan didn’t recognize at all continued to pop up on the screen, until, finally...

Joan’s heart dropped right back into the pit it almost crawled out of.

10th- Out-Burn Kamikaze

They were dead last in favorites.

“Would you look at that,” A biting voice cackled from the side. “The runt and her piece of psycho roadkill are last.”

Joan whipped her head around to glare at the owner of the voice- Thomas Cromwell. At his side was a younger man, slightly younger than Cathy.

“At least I don’t abuse my horse.” Joan spit, making herself seem tougher than she actually was.

“Abuse?” Thomas exclaimed. “Don’t spread lies, little girl. You don’t know anything.”

“Well, new jockeys are known to say things to try and weaken their opponents.” Comments the younger man, “They’re stupid enough to think it actually works.”

Joan was just about to leap up and thrash the two of them when someone came into the room to tell the jockeys it was time for them to saddle up. Thomas and his little goon, who Joan would later learn was Thomas Culpeper, another jockey to Henry Tudor, head out for the place where all the horses were being held at the end of the walk. Joan glared at the back of their helmeted heads, considering using her whip on them, but couldn’t find the courage to do so.

They all heard loud voices of the fans as they made their way to the paddocks. As the horses and trainers lined up came into view, each jockey moved towards their respective mount. There, Joan saw Blazer shifting anxiously on his haunches, looking all around as the sounds grew louder and louder. Maria was doing her best to calm the horse.

“Hey,” Maria said, “How are you doing? You look pale, hun.”

“Nervous.” Joan answered honestly, clenching and unclenching her hands. “Really nervous.”

“I can tell.” Maria offered an encouraging smile and then helped the girl get her helmet on. “Remember, let him make his own pace coming out of the gate. Don't push him until the very end. And no whip unless absolutely necessary. Bessie’s orders.”

Joan nodded as she clambered onto her horse’s back. Blazer shifted his weight beneath her, but didn’t throw a fit. In fact, he seemed to settle with the girl mounted on the saddle.

“Have a safe ride," Maria called after them as Joan and Blazer were led out onto the track by an escort. “Good luck!”

Passing that threshold, Joan realized she and her horse were no longer Joan and Blazer.

They were Hurricane and Out-Burn Kamikaze.

(Jockey nicknames were an occasional thing that riders chose, but Anne said the press loved it, and Joan needed all the help she could get to get people to like her, so she went along with it. Thus, Hurricane was born.)

Cheers erupted from the stands as the ten horses in the race were walked out onto the field. Joan had told herself to keep her eyes forward, to stay focused, but she found herself looking all around the track stadium to try and find the only people who would be cheering for her. And she did, along with the Royalling Stones Farm team, who must have came to watch.

Ice cold fear shot through Joan’s veins. Now she really couldn’t mess up or it could ruin Bessie’s image- her image for Catherine, Jane, and their team.

And that was something she really didn’t want to do.

The escorts led the horses up to the starting gate as the announcer spoke loudly to the crowd, introducing the racers. One by one, each horse was walked into the stalls in order. Blazer- no, Out-Burn Kamikaze had no problem getting into his designated spot, number six, but once the door shut behind him loudly with a clank and squeal, that’s when he began to act up.

Out-Burn Kamikaze began nervously neighing and backing up against the gate. Blazer was starting to slip out of his race facade, which isn’t something Joan wanted to happen. Not during their first race.

“Shh, shh,” Joan whispered, leaning down to speak into her horse’s ear. “It’s okay. It’s-” She cut herself off with a yelp as the stallion to her left rammed against the metal grating separating the two of them, startling Out-Burn Kamikaze further.

The clamor was starting to get to Joan, too. The stall was so small and it was so noisy from all the rattling iron and horse cries. She felt like she was suffocating and, without realizing it, she found herself becoming shortened of breath.

“Holy shit, kid, are you alright?” The man to her left, the one with the stallion who hit into her grate (he apologized, at least) asked.

“She’s fine.” Said the man to Joan’s right- Thomas Culpeper. “Let her work herself up. Maybe then she’ll realize this isn’t for her.” He laughed cruelly.

His taunting words registered in Joan’s ringing ears and she grit her teeth, stamping down her panic attack. It just kept bubbling to the surface, so she finally gave up on calming herself and rather turned to her horse.

“Come on, boy,” She half whispered, half wheezed, “Calm down. It’s okay. I’m with you.”

Just when she thought she had Out-Burn Kamikaze settled, an ear piercing ringing sounded from above and the gates flew open.

The horses jetted from their stalls, leaving clouds of dust floating in the air for Out-Burn Kamikaze to totter blindly through.

Joan swore she could hear laughter and mocking whispers amongst the roaring crowd above her. For a split second, she turned her head up to them to stare helplessly, but then she whipped her gaze back down and tugged on the reigns.

“Come on, Blazer!” Joan urged the staggering, crying horse, “Come on! Come on! You can do it, buddy! Come on, you’re my big brave boy, aren’t you?”

Those words seem to get through Out-Burn Kamikaze’s fit because he suddenly reared and charged forward, nearly throwing Joan off in the process. Luckily, the girl held tightly to the reigns and hollered in glee as her mount took off.

“Yes! Yes! Go, Blazer! Go!”

The sound of the hoofbeats was hypnotizing. And it only got more and more hypnotic the closer and closer Joan and Out-Burn Kamikaze inched towards the competition.

The first horse they passed was a deep red color, then a chocolate brown one, then one the shade of bloody mud.

“Easy, Blazer, easy,” Joan said to her horse. “You’re doing great, buddy. Steady on.”

Out-Burn Kamikaze snorted and urged himself forward without his rider’s command. Almost sensing his need to speed up, Joan obliged and finally lifted herself fully off of the saddle, leaning forward and adjusting her weight so it would be at the front. Practically standing up on this sprinting beast’s back made a strong sense of vertigo wash over her, and she thought she might fall off, but Out-Burn Kamikaze’s increasing speed brushed away her worries.

“Run, Blazer, run!” Joan cried into the wind, “Run, boy! Let loose! Go! Go!!”

Joan’s grip may have been tight on the reigns, but Out-Burn Kamikaze was controlling himself. He weaved through two horse almost perfectly, despite them never training with moving obstacles, only the occasional stock-still ones. He knew to angle to the right to avoid getting his legs tangled up in an opponent’s and banked a hard left at the next turn that was so sharp it cut off the rider in front of him.

“You’re doing it, Blaze!” Joan cheered, “You’re doing it!” She laughed, and couldn’t tell if the tears in her eyes were from joy or the wind and dirt flying into her face. Either way, she was ecstatic. She also needed to get goggles.

They both crossed the finish line for the third time, starting the final lap. Joan was still shouting in glee when, suddenly, something slammed into Out-Burn Kamikaze’s side on the last leg of the race, ramming him right against the wall where one side of the stands were situated above. Joan yelped as her shoulder and side were grated painfully against the metal as her horse was pushed further against the structure. She turned to see Culpeper glaring at her from his raging red horse, Hell Comes Handily.

“You’ll learn one way or another, little girl!” Culpeper spat, “This isn’t for you!”

Joan grunted and she heard Out-Burn Kamikaze screech a furious neigh. He whipped his head to the side, baring his teeth and rotating his ears back. His anger was a cold, deep, dark thing that Joan knew about well. He once kicked down a barn door just because he was pet in an area he didn’t want to be pet in. That being said, Joan has taken a lot of time to learn his mannerisms and techniques to calm the beast.

Now was not one of the times to use those.

“You don’t belong here!” Culpeper hissed.

Joan grits her teeth, feeling the scrapes already tearing open on her shoulders thanks to the wall. She looked forward and saw they were about to come to the next turn and cross the finish line. The wall was going to end. Joan smiled.

“What are you grinning at?” Culpeper growled.

“This.”

Joan heaved her body to the side, hitting her helmet against Culpeper’s thigh and causing him to lurch Hell Comes Handily away in surprise. Joan leaned off of the saddle, shifting her weight downwards and aiding Out-Burn Kamikaze in the sharp turn that nearly flung her off of him completely, but she held tightly. Her arms ached as she pulled herself upright again, but the impressed swell of coos and shouts around her gave her strength to get situated again.

“Good job, Blazer!” Joan said, “Good boy! Keep going! Burn, Blaze, burn!”

With a mighty huff, Out-Burn Kamikaze hauled himself forward with a burst of speed. In those final moments of the race, it felt like he was flying, spreading majestic flaming wings and soaring down the finish line.

And soar they did.

When Joan crossed the finish line, she felt like she could breathe again. Even though the race was barely three minutes long, those moments felt like an eternity. But finally it was all over.

She collapsed forward, taking deep breaths as if SHE had did all the running, and hugged around Out-Burn Kamikaze’s furry neck. She buried her face in his mane, laughing.

“We did it, buddy! YOU did it!”

Slowly, the horse came to a halt and Joan sat up, finally taking in the full view of the stands from down on the track. She laughed again, a wide smile stretching across her features. Sure, the people probably weren’t cheering for her, the fourth place winner, but it still felt good to hear.

“They’re going to be cheering for you one day, bud,” Joan told Blazer, who was coming down from the high of running as Out-Burn Kamikaze. “We’re going to be their champions.”

A sudden swarm of reporters and cameras then caught Joan’s attention. She turned to them, realizing they were coming towards HER.

“What did it feel like to be pinned against the wall by one of the best rider’s in England?”

“How did it feel to beat that rider?”

“How long have you been training this horse?”

“Were you scared when Out-Burn Kamikaze wouldn’t run at first?”

“Why didn’t he run at the beginning?”

“What exactly did you do on that final turn?!”

Joan, who was slightly overwhelmed by all the attention, did her best to answer all the questions. She made sure to be polite and used her manners when speaking to the reporters- everything she saw counted. Plus, they had several cameras trained on her. She had to choose her words wisely.

“Joan!”

“Maria! Bessie!”

Joan slid off of Blazer’s back right into the arms of Bessie and Maria, who held her tightly.

“Oh, sweetheart, you did wonderful!” Maria exclaimed. “You were so amazing out there!”

“Maria cried.” Bessie snickered. She cups Joan’s cheeks as her roommate blubbered about that being a lie. “You’re not the only one, though, Mars.”

Joan sniffled a little, laughing as Bessie brushed away a half-dried tear streak trailing down her face.

“It was just- it was unbelievable.” Joan whispered. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“I know,” Bessie said, smiling. “I’m so proud of you, darling.”

Joan grinned. She glanced over Bessie’s shoulder to see Jane and her team walking over.

“Wow.” Catherine said. “Just- wow.”

“You were amazing!” Anne declared.

“Yeah, when Culpeper had you pinned against that wall, I didn’t think you were gonna get out of it.” Anna admitted. “But you did! You really proved me wrong. You are something else, Joan.”

A dark pink blush appeared on Joan’s cheeks and she fiddled with her helmet calls sheepishly. She obviously wasn’t ready for this amount of praise.

“Thanks.” She said shyly.

From behind her, Blazer was starting to act up, so she quickly turned to him.

“Is he gonna have another fit?” Katherine asked.

“No,” Joan said, watching the way her horse bounced on his front legs and bobbed his head up and down. She smiled brightly. “I think he knows he won.”

[thegeminisage]

alright im about to watch 5.03 of merlin for the 2nd time ever

because if i dont do it now i may NEVER GET ANOTHER CHANCE

but first i wanna get out of the way that i thought merlin convincing arthur to keep the ban on magic in 5.05 because he was trying to thwart ~*~destiny~*~ or whatever is the laziest writing ever, it’s unsatisfying for the audience, it renders the rest of the last season utterly pointless, it’s unfair to merlin and arthur, and the tonal shift of the show from farting trolls in season 2 to full greek tragedy in season 5 was completely unwarranted and i feel TRICKED as a human person because i expected the end to be bittersweet and make me sad, not table-flipping angry, and i do not at all have high hopes for the finale

but i can ignore something having a “bad last five minutes” i did it for life is strange and final fantasy 13-2 i will do it for merlin but honestly 

speaking on 5.03, after it was over the first time i was like “i can never write my fanfic now because nothing i ever do will be as good as that” but i’m really relieved in that way that that was apparently the last good episode of merlin because now i can continue my work in peace and maybe hopefully even actually finish it

okay commence the liveblog:

love that arthur and merlin are down to just jump off their horses whenever random women start screaming in the distance. season 5 could have been so good, they’re so much more grown up and in sync with one another, i absolutely LOVE their #vibe

it was interesting to me also that arthur DEMANDED a fair trial for this woman despite her being accused of sorcery. god, he was SO CLOSE?? that hatred of magic just can’t really take root in him especially with uther gone...arthur may be an asshole in the early seasons, and he may be quick to anger and quick to lash out in that anger, but it’s just not in him to be cruel, especially needlessly

EVEN THIS LADY IS LIKE “u showed kindness and compassion” arthur is a Good Boy deep down he is he IS he didn’t care a bit about that horn she gave him but still politely said it was beautiful

although lmao the way his face changed when she said it was magic...that’s the STUFF

lowkey losing it at athony head in the credits. i was looking to see if he’d be in the s5 ones since he’s dead and didn’t see him in 5.01 or 5.02 so when i DID see him in 5.03 i was like haha no way did they pay to put him in here i guess i just missed him the first couple of times BUT I WAS WRONG

like, in buffy, they spend an entire episode trying to decide whether or not to necromance their mom or whatever and she doesnt actually APPEAR IN THE EP they never SEE her i thought this would be an episode ABOUT uther i didn’t think uther would be IN it

love that from the get-go arthur’s face screams “i am thinking about making a terrible mistake” and merlin’s face is like “he is thinking about making a terrible mistake”

i’m quite proud of merlin in s5 actually. bad writing aside he uses multiple braincells many times per episode. it’s a vast improvement. same energy as clary from shadowhunters right down to getting shafted in his final season

ive said it before and ill say it again gwen looks SOOO GOOOOD as queen

if this is the anniversary of uther’s death then (if you go by 1 season = 1 year) arthur just turned 30...it’s been nine years and change since merlin met him, and by the end of season 5 it will have been an entire decade

in an otherwise increddibly heavy episode arthur panicking and throwing all the apples out of the bowl so he could cover the horn with it is absolutely priceless. season 5 if nothing else has really hammered home for me what a TERRIBLE liar arthur is - merlin got good at it fast out of necessity but arthur can’t hold a poker face to save his LIFE. “leave it.” “why??” “because i’m telling you to and i’m the king of camelot” buddy......

we were ROBBED. if there had ever been a day where arthur came to accept merlin’s magic but still had to help merlin hide it there could have been an entire episode of arthur nearly blowing merlin’s cover because he’s a nervous nelly and at the end he goes “i cant believe you have had to do this 24/7 for YEARS without a single friend to help you” and merlin goes “well now i have you” anyway.

i love also that repeatedly when arthur goes to do something scary by himself he also brings merlin. they LITERALLY are two halves of a whole

“you’re threatening me with a spoon??” i can’t tell you about the unfortunate fanfics i have seen involving The Spoon. i shall also not mention the ones involving The Glove. we will not speak of it

I CANNOT BELIEVE STONEHENGE IS IIN MERLIN. i got so agitated i did not pay one bit of attention to the conversation following its reveal and me and cathy and had to rewind so i could listen properly

my hate-on for stonehenge goes thusly: stonehenge apocalypse, starring misha collins, is @callowyn‘s favorite movie. i have seen it 45 times. i hate it nearly as much as she loves it. it’s an age-old battle

merlin is so intense when he looks for signs in arthur that he DOESN’T totally hate magic...arthur using magic to see his dad again is one of those signs. he’s willing to turn to it in desperation - maybe he’d be willing in less desperate times too

“my father was taken from me before his time” i mean...he was practically in a coma. so like. he wasn’t

love that when arthur mentions merlins dad ONCE he immediately looks like he’s about to cry. mood. i also want to cry every time i think about merlins dad

up until the moment i laid eyes on uther i was SURE they werent actually gonna do it. i came into this thinking it was a FLASHBACK EP

for the record (and believe me i NEVER thought i’d say this) even though i waited and waited for his demise and cheered when he was gona for good...i really missed uther in season 4. at least with uther you know what you’re getting. agravaine (his replacement as “evil guy who keeps us from being able to solve our problems too easily”) was a slimy cowardly CREEP. and in season 5 i WISH things were as simple as “work around uther’s pigheaded unreasonableness”

for a hot second i really thought uther and arthur would have a nice conversation where they reconciled or said something heartwarming. i was worried about an uther redemption arc - this guy is responsible for the genocide of magic users, he doesn’t deserve redemption - but this show said NOT TODAY and they said it QUICK

WE

ARE

SO

BLESSED

i have A LOT of issues with season 5 but JESUS FUCKING CHRIST THIS WAS DADDY ISSUES 2.0 BROUGHT BACK FROM THE DEAD

repressed trauma returns: harder better faster stronger!! that’s the STUFF

was i not just speaking the other day on my fanfic ask meme about how i love emotionally intense stuff? this is IT babey

uther’s such a bad father! he’s with his only child again for the last time in ever and all he does is tear him a new one! this is why arthur’s such a fucked-up human being (morgana too) 

i’m THRILLED we got to revisit this. his eyes get bigger and bigger and he starts fucking stammering and by the time uther’s done calling him weak and a failure he looks ready to CRY. i was HOLLERING. i still couldnt believe uther was even HERE and not only is he HERE he’s a WRECKING BALL

“this CAN’T be the last time i’ll ever see you” oh buddy you’re gonna wish it was

and he looks back, as he leaves. of COURSE he does. just like lot’s wife. so it goes.

you know how at the end of every supernatural episode sam and dean debrief and talk about their feelings in the car? for merlin and arthur it’s almost always done around a campfire at night - sometimes in arthur’s chambers or other places, but usually out here in the wilderness where it’s just the two of them. i’m...really going to miss it, when it’s gone.

“my father doesn’t approve of the way i’ve chosen to rule his kingdom” “you mean YOUR kingdom”

you know i don’t think i really got...like, fundamentally, on a deep level...that merlin fucking HATES uther

i’ve seen him save uther’s miserable life so many fucking times that i thought for merlin it was kind of the way it was with gwen - he feels nothing for him, but he looks after him for arthur’s sake (or as i came to understand later because he’s professor x about the whole thing)

but the way his expression got SO UGLY when arthur revealed that uther just shit-talked him the entire time...holy fuck

between that & some other stuff that happens later it really paints a clearer picture of like...uther’s dead so merlin doesn't have to hold back anymore and he FUCKING HATES HIM?? like obviously he SHOULD bu i just never SAW it before this. merlin LOATHES him. it’s INCREDIBLE to witness when he bore it so silently for so long. maybe even merlin didn’t realize just how much he hated him until now

and not to get too real here but if youve ever been friends with someone who had an abusive/toxic parent or was in an abusive/toxic relationship and you watch them feeling like shit after and they start making excuses for that asshole like “oh yeah he’s right about x” and you just want to find this horrible person and THROTTLE THEM that emotion is like ALL OVER merlin’s face rn. i didn’t actually seriously "”ship”” merlin and arthur until late season 4/early season 5 (i didnt like dislike it i just wasnt actively bothered by a lack of it) and what changed was this vibe. merlin wants to kill uther all over again just because he made arthur feel this way. he’s so fuckijng PROTECTIVE

and he still almost manages to drag a smile out of him via roasting, god bless these 2

ok so i didnt believe this show would actually DO THAT re: putting uther himself in this ep but i was doubly shocked by the fact that he HITCHED A RIDE AND GOT OUT

me shrieking during this entire poltergeist sequence: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD IT’S REALLY HIM?? HOLY FUCK HE IS LITERALLY HAUNTING ARTHUR I CAN’T BELIEVE THEY’RE DOING THIS I CAN’T BELIEVE THEY’RE GIVING US THIS etc etc etc

actually most of that was probably muffled nonsense because i was yelling with both hands over my mouth

percival’s the realest motherfucker on this whole show. dude survives a murder attempt in which he got an AXE lobbed at him by the fucking GHOST of a power-mad genocidal king and he’s like: yeah idk i guess it fell

there was thunder in the bg for this WHOLE ep and i’m Big into it

absolutely CACKLING at the bit where merlin has to ask arthur if he looked back at uther’s spirit. it’s one of those nice big heavy questions - so heavy, in fact, that arthur can’t answer, can’t even LOOK at merlin, either because he’s ashamed or because he’s bugging out or both. you thought this shit was over? it’s never over! daddy issues are a lifelong ride, pal! arthur’s just get to haunt him literally this time. god it’s so fucking good

can i just say? merlin reads that damning silence reeeal well. and it’s a big, heavy thing to know about arthur - but then again he knows all the big heavy things about arthur

the score for this episode is really good too...very suspenseful and good, adds a lot to the atmosphere, keeps it from getting too slow

there’s a hint of merlin’s absolute HATRED of uther in this conversation again - the way his face tightens when he says “uther would do anything to protect his legacy and that makes him dangerous, who knows what he’s capable of now”

and arthur dismisses him because he can’t hear this but merlin almost refuses to leave - and when he DOES leave, he doesn’t take his eyes off arthur for one fucking second. he stares him down all the way out of the room. i don’t think it’s because he’s angry with arthur, per se - he’s angry with uther, and he knows uther in a way arthur never can or will, as someone ruthless who will kill without warning or remorse. he’s afraid of uther and he’s trying to get arthur to be afraid of uther too before it’s too late and LSDKFJGHSLDFJH

if you’re thinking “thats a lot to interpret from one look” yes it is but i’m right. IT’S A BIG, HEAVY LOOK. NICE AND LOADED. love unpacking all of that

i cant believe this dude tried to KILL GWEN like he really is coming after everything that makes arthur happy. im so glad it was merlin that saved her. i really do think merlin is her best friend

multiple times in this serious arthur fidgets when he’s nervous or thinking, usually with his hands near his mouth. i am endeared to him. my poor boy

“i always knew my father could be cruel but why would he do this to gwen when he knows i love her” BECAUSE HE’S CRUEL

merlin knows. merlin knows his cruelty much better than arthur. boy does he know. i’m dying. it’s fine

love that at this part of the ep we slide seamlessly into the “merlin and arthur are both scared shitless” section which was truly one of my favorite things about the s4 opener. they’re both so fucking jumpy and giving each other shit about being frightened and continuing to be frightened anyway. the DELICIOUS IRONY of arthur finally being scared of uther in the way merlin has been scared of uther for Y E A R S oh my god it’s so GOOD

do also love the entire silent conversation they have when deciding what to do about the door. this is what i mean by their upgraded vibe.l in the early seasons merlin wouldn’t have understood and his lack of understanding would have been played for laughs. now they’re totally in sync

here’s the thing, gaius could have made this magic “able to see uther’s ghost” potion for just arthur and he didn’t. he made it for both of them. everything arthur does merlin does. they’re partners in all things. they’re COMPANIONS. and this is why i finally now Ship It. tragic.

you know this is a kind of weird comparison but late seasons arthur reminds me JUST a bit of gwaine. he complains so much less that he sort of has that same “roll with whatever” vibe to him. pretend to faint so you can steal some guy’s dagger? why not. take this foul potion that may kill us? sure, let’s do it. come what may he’s not really fussed. much more unflappable

until he starts getting spooked again LMFAO 

we do love a good pair of spooked dumbasses. this is charming and entertaining.

leon HAD to know they were lying about poetry. he probably thought they were having.......a tryst,

love also that even in this very dire moment merlin does NOT miss the chance to have some fun at arthur’s expense. that’s true friendship

i got jumpscared three separate times during this ep and one of them was when uther was glaring down merlin and arthur in the hallway after leon left

arthur didn’t jump but he did go hunting after him and to his credit he does not look scared. he looks like a man who is trying to deal with his business and get his shit together

merlin made that FACE again when arthur expressed sadness at hunting his own father because all he ever wanted to DO was make him proud

honestly it’s like since he can’t shit-talk uther he just sings arthur’s praises instead like this here is a guy who is just barely holding his tongue about how fuckin pissed he is. i cant believe it

splitting up was the WORST idea. have they not seen scooby doo??

love that when merlin gets cornered by uther’s ghost and gets scared he yells for arthur and when arthur gets scared because his torch blows out he yells for merlin. you fools, why did you SPLIT UP

uther locks arthur in the room with him, which is already some top tier content, but doubly good? it’s the same room in which arthur nearly ran him through in 2.08. don’t think i didn’t notice. i did notice. i was shrieking into my hands.

seriously this is a pretty calm liveblog but the first time i watched this ep my face was like this the whole time: O O

just kept going “HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK OH MY GOD” over and over. it was greeat

“arthur your fatal flaw is that you put too much trust in other people” do you think arthur, who now has a complex about people betraying him, ever forgot that for one second in his entire life afterward? me neither

speaking of 2.08 arthur dropped some FACTS “your hatred comes from fear” i'm sure they didn’t do it on purpose but #throwbacks

i’m fully experiencing human emotion. “i’m not you, i can’t rule like you did” he’s trying SO HARD to fight his way out of that bullshit

also lmao arthur like “then you’ll have to kill me” and uther like “yeah okay” arthur didn’t KNOW how this man was this could have been SUCH a good awakening

AND NOW IT’S TIME

FOR MY FAVORITE PART OF THIS EPISODE

when i say merlin hates uther. WHEN I SAY MERLIN H A T E S UTHER

HIS LINE HERE. ok. “get away from him, uther. you’ve caused enough harm” he’s furious! he’s GROWLING! 

“you are just a serving boy” “i am much more than that” listen. human words cannot express the emotion that ran through me. when they said “we’re gonna bring back anthony head as uther” i doubted. when they said “he’s gonna be the bad guy and reopen all of arthur’s old wounds” i doubted. when they said “he’s still here LITERALLY haunting arthur who now has to HUNT HIM” I DOUBTED. i didn’t believe they’d do any of it until it was happening on my screen. but ONE LOOK at merlins face made a MOTHERFUCKING BELIEVER out of me. i knew exactly what he was about to do. pretty sure i gasped “NO” in astonishment

AND HE DID THAT

HE👏

DID👏

THAT👏

NOT ONLY. DID I SHRIEK ALOUD. FULL SCREAM. WHEN IT HAPPENED THE FIRST TIME. BUT JUST NOW. WHEN I WATCHED HIM DO IT AGAIN. MORE SCREAMING.

how LONG do you think merlin had ACHED to do that

to show himself to uther for what he was, what he REALLY WAS, someone to be reckoned with instead of someone to be overlookedd, without fear of consequences

i can’t even like

like just imagine the triple rush of 1. satisfaction 2. rage 3. lingering habitual terror

i think at this moment merlin was closer to and more like morgana than he had ever been and maybe ever will be again. because the two of them have so much in common but one thing i didn’t really clock until now is how much they both hate uther

it’s so good. uther is SHOCKED and DISMAYED and this is like merlin’s old fear come back from death too (getting found out by uther) while at the same time being a dream come true (getting to tell uther what he really thinks, who he really is - “i was BORN with it!”) he’s so ANGRY! he is LIVID!)

he’s also really SATISFIED like “even while you were king there was magic at the heart of camelot” GOD how long has he been WAITING for this and not even realized it

and like then uther starts spewing his hateful bullshit and stalking forward with the intent to kill and my guy merlin who should be terrified STANDS HIS MOTHERFUCKING GROUND and says right over him “you’re wrong, you’re wrong” for thirty beautiful seconds merlin really got to be free. i know i will keep comparing things to 2.08 until i die but it’s just like when arthur was almost ready to kill uther in cold blood because for one perfect, brilliant moment he really and truly saw clearly the world as it was. i really love these moments...the strength of their respective convictions is so gratifying

merlin yeeting uther through a door is also gratifying although i have no idea what he hoped to accomplish by following without waking arthur first

i. LOVE. that the camera lingered a little on the spears or whatever after merlin walked by them. nice little foreshadowing moment

THOSE SPEARS GOT AWFULLY CLOSE BUT IM PRETTY SURE UTHER MISSED ON PURPOSE BECAUSE HE WANTED TO TAKE HIS TIME. HIS MISTAKE

okay merlin spent the better part of a lifetime dreading uther’s death sentence and here’s uther stalking down a hallway sword pointed at his chest and certain death is IMMINENT and what does merlin’s face look like?

arthur comes in with the rescue and INSTANTLY his expression changes to?

IT’S BETTER IN MOTION BUT HE LOOKS READY TO CRY

my immediate thought: oh jesus what if uther outs him

i knew he wouldnt bc of spoilers but i would bet a benjamin that that was merlin’s first thought too

tbh. i wish he had.

i kind of wonder if merlin doesn’t wish the same thing. like yes being outed like that is terribly violating and he’s terrified of telling arthur obviously or he would have already but at the same time there would be so much relief once it was finally out. no more secret-keeping. no more burden

i mean, if you go back and watch it, dude’s straight up shaking. he’s trembling all over. he’s losing it. that last teary glance they exchanged.......

uther was two SYLLABLES away from blowing the whole thing

and in a better happier canon where arthur knows and was waiting for merlin to tell him this is like double angst because uther wouldve ben blowing something for them both

i like arthurs followup of realizing that he’ll never be able to please uther (step 1 of breaking away from the cycle of abuse) but for the LIFE OF ME

i will NEVER be able to understand why they segued into this GLOVE THING

i’m not talking about the glove thing

i will say however that by the end of this episode i was so hysterical i had to get up and get water and pace around my kitchen for ten minutes fanning my own face

and that’s it. that’s the second-best episode of merlin and the last good episode there ever was

[shirtlessprincess-blog]

Busy night in Rhodes

Arthur having a steamy night with a girl from Rhodes’ saloon after a bar fight.

This is the first time I post one of my texts, I really hope you’ll enjoy the atmosphere! English isn’t my mother tongue

Let the smut battle begin @soazzar !  Level 1 here we go ...

It wasn’t a busy night for her. She only had a couple old regulars coming to visit her after a hard day of work. Like every evening, she and the other girls were waiting for the night to get steamier as the men got drunker. As she was standing against the stair’s handrail of Rhodes’ biggest saloon, lightly smiling at the men that seemed to be decent and not too drunk, avoiding eye contact with those who were notorious creeps with no money, she noticed Arthur as soon as he crossed the doorway. He was nothing like the boys she was used to deal with; weathered skin, strong shoulders and a leather hat throwing shadow over a confident yet gentle look. His boots were rather dirty but he seemed to be a well groomed man. As he passes by her, she noticed his guns and the way he walked like nothing could scare him definitely showed how good he was at using them. 

- Hello, handsome, she whispered just loud enough for him to hear but faintly enough to give any man the desire to hear it a second time. 

His large back tightened a bit which surprised her but then the way he turned around and looked her in the eyes made her even more curious. 

- My lady, he nodded with his hat covering his blue eyes. 

She couldn’t help but take a step closer to him so he’d have to choose between keeping some personal space or sharing the same air. 

- Are you looking for a good time, cowboy, she asked smiling.

He did not withdraw but but he politely declined her offer, leaving her here, wondering what she had made wrong. It usually worked with everyone! 

As she went back to the stairs pouting, Arthur made his way to the bar. One of the other girls, a friend of hers, told her night was still early. She tried to focus on work but she would only stand and wait in places that allowed her to peek at Arthur’s wide back leaning over the bar. 

It was barely midnight and she had been drinking a few whisky glasses with some other fellas, making sure her cowboy was still here, getting friendlier with other customers as he got drunker. 

And suddenly the saloon’s door were smashed open; the air filled with a smell of swamp. Everyone was kinda used to the Lemoyne Raiders visits but this time, they seemed to be more angry. The three of them quickly made their way to the bar, pushing away every poor guy that was in their way. 

She only understood what was happening when the first punch was thrown. In her handsome cowboy’s face. 

His hat flew and Arthur almost fell down from the shock on his jaw. He immediately stepped back, blocking an other punch and hitting the bastard right in the stomach. He fell down to his knees and Arthur lost no time to kick him with the knee. 

The girl and everyone in the saloon has raised from their chairs and were waiting for what would happen next. It was the first time she had seen a man handle these raiders bastards so well, even though his lips were bleeding a bit. 

The two other raiders jumped into the fight, throwing fists with anger at that man who made such a fool of their boss, lying on the ground. She saw her handsome boy taking some bad punches but all she could do was stand there, her hands covering her sweet lips with fear for him. Everything happened very quickly and she couldn’t tell exactly how, but Arthur managed to smash one of the guy’s head against the wall. The second after, a knife was in the last raider’s hand, threatening anyone that would come too close. A little scream escaped from the girl’s mouth as Arthur dodged one strike, and a second but the third… cut his arm and blood spilled over the floor. Without even knowing her body had been moving, the girl ran across the room to stick her nails as hard as she could on the raider’s arm. The distraction was enough for Arthur to grab a whisky bottle but before he could crash it on the bastard’s head, the girl was thrown away in the loud crowd that had gathered to see the fight. 

As soon as the last one was lying unconscious on the dirty ground, the saloon’s owner had them thrown out of his establishment, so angry he was ‘cause one of his girls was affected. Before he could turn to check she was alright, he saw Arthur was already helping her back on her feet. 

- You alright, he asked with his arm around her waist to support her. 

- Yes… but you’re bleeding, she answered back, feeling dizzy. 

Arthur quickly checked his wound and only then the pain would strike but his only reaction was a light smirk. 

- Now Cathy take care of this man, will you, the owner told the girl, annoyed there was such a mess in his saloon. 

She then took a handkerchief off her corset and placed it on Arthur’s cut to stop the bleeding. 

- Follow me, she gently said. 

Arthur put his large hand over hers so she didn’t have to get covered in blood while they went upstairs. She didn’t let go of him though, and grabbed his other arm to press it against her  beating chest. 

As soon as they got to the room, she locked the door. 

- Well, it was real brave jumping on that bastard, Arthur said. 

- Ain’t my first fight you know, she smiled back. 

- Could’ve been much worst without you, he replied, showing his arm. 

- Come here, sweetheart…

He was about to tell her not to worry about him and she could leave, but she already had him sit on a chair and given him a pretty good view on her corseted breasts. While she would clean the wound with a wet piece of cloth, she would smile at him from time to time, and the sparks in her green eyes would catch Arthur’s attention more and more with every glimpse. 

- Must hurt pretty bad, I’m sorry those morons were after you, she whispered. 

- I’ve been hurt worst than that… and those morons had pretty good reasons to be after me, he replied amused. 

- Then I guess you’re not just a nice cowboy, am I right, she said with her most teasing voice. 

He laughed, letting himself get caught in her game: 

- You better not figure out what I am, girl. 

The wound wasn’t too deep and within minutes she had made a good bandage. She then handed him a bottle of brandy as he got up, determined not to let him leave. 

- I think I’ve had enough for tonight, miss. I’d better leave before you get into trouble, he declined. 

- Oh you’re too caring, sir, she whispered, slowly walking to the door without taking her emerald eyes off his. 

Leaning on the door, she took the bottle to her rosy lips and drank a sip from it, skillfully letting one drop of the glossy fluid run down her chin and then fall on her chest, watching Arthur’s eyes follow the tiny drop as it dived down her breasts. 

- Don’t you want to have a taste, at least? 

He grinned and looked away, his face turning red. There was no escaping from the room, after all. She sighed and understanding that he wasn’t going to make the first move, she came so close their mouths were almost touching. She put her hands on his chest and slowly led them up ‘till her fingertips would touch his jawline. Arthur’s breath got faster as her lips melted with his, and he couldn’t help but closing his eyes. One of his hands carefully slid onto her lower back and she immediately pressed her body harder against him.

She made her way down  kissing and licking his neck until her mouth would meet his buttoned shirt. Nothing could stop her and she quickly unfastened every button her expert hands would find. She playfully slammed his shoulder straps on his torso and the tickling made Arthur tighten his grip on her waist. In no time his shirt was falling to the ground and he was sitting on the bed, now unable to break the spell he was under. Savoring her victory, she untied his pants and with delight followed the hardening bulge with her fingertip, making her sturdy cowboy shiver. She giggled softly and kissed his lower belly while getting rid of any piece of clothes that was keeping her from his warm skin. 

There he was now, stone hard from her caresses, abandoning himself and letting her guide him towards places he’d long forgotten. 

- Close your eyes, she whispered so close to his flesh he could feel her breath on it. 

With one hand she would slowly, carefully run up and down its whole length and with the other hand would brush his chest. At first, she would just tease him with light strokes and kisses closer and closer to his rod, softly breathing and blowing onto it, with her lips so close he thought they would touch, but they never did and it was driving him crazy with lust. Then, satisfied with the amount of frustration she could sense in his hands gripping the blanket and his stifled moans, she began playing with different levels of pressure with her fingers, and went up and down faster, then slower just on the tip before softly pecking his tense and warm skin. 

She used all her mastery in the art of love to lead him higher and higher without hitting the climax too fast. She wanted to take her time and to get to learn each and every move that pleased him most. She loved the way Arthur would look away whenever she would look up to his face. 

He felt like his whole body was burning under a hot summer sun, but then, as his heartbeat went faster and faster, he thought he was drowning in the pleasure that woman was giving him. He couldn’t stop watching her frail and soft hands working with so much dedication to his very own pleasure. He soon felt out of breath and couldn’t hold back moans that had been waiting for years to come out his dry throat. With no warning, he put his weathered hand on her cheek and caressed her in the most tender way she had ever experienced. Her heart missed a beat when he slid his thumb over her lips, leaning closer. So close he pressed his mouth against hers, taking her by surprise and she stopped thinking for a second. When he took his wet lips off her, she followed them by instinct, her eyes still closed. Her hands were now tied behind his neck, and when she opened her eyes, Arthur saw in them a burning that had just appeared. 

She stood up, pushed him back on the bed and in a hurry proceeded to take off her dress. Every inch of skin showing as shiny fabric was slipping down her curvy body was making Arthur’s wait even more difficult. She finally got on the bed, over him and he felt overwhelmed by the softness of her skin, the beauty of her curves and the smell of her desire. He brought her body on his and kissed her, letting his large hands run everywhere they could on her. 

- I ain’t done with you yet, cowboy, she smiled before biting his lip. 

She teasingly put his hands off her and lied beside him, her head resting on his tight, waiting for him to figure out what was coming next. Very amused by his confusion, she slowly got near his hardened meat and began tasting it, with more and more appetite. He closed his eyes as she opened her mouth, giving him the strongest rush down the spine he’d ever felt. With every skill she had, and her hands, and her tongue, she drove him into lusty madness. Each deep moan that escaped from Arthur’s mouth would show her that same direction and she joined his choir when he slid his hand between her legs lying next to his chest. The more pleasure she gave him, the more he would give back and her short breath, her wetting tights and her moans were too much for him to handle. She soon felt his limb tighten and shiver and she pulled out to let him spill in her warm hands as she watched him cover his sweaty face with one arm.

He was out of breath and his mind was somewhere only her could have him discover. Satisfied, she let him catch his breath while she washed her hands with a tissue. When she got back to him, there was the sweetest look in his eyes. 

- How about I pay you back, he said, bringing her body over his. 

- You may try, cowboy…

She smiled back at him, pleased of his sudden boldness and watched him with delight put his hands on her body, his tongue lick the tip of her breasts and his fingers run deeper and deeper between her sweaty tights. 

In the morning when she got up, her handsome cowboy was nowhere to be found but on the chair she found a piece of paper on which was lying a beautiful necklace. On the page torn from a notebook, there was a lovely portrait of her, peacefully sleeping and next to it was written :

« Take care, Cathy - A.M. »

[reddeadgarlicbread]

All I Have - A Red Dead Redemption 2 Story - Chapter Eleven

Reminder that requests are OPEN

Synopsis:

Sage Marston is the younger sister of John Marston, member of the notorious Van Der Linde Gang. After being separated as children, John finds his sister and invites her to run away with him and the gang.

As Sage quickly becomes a member of the family and valued member of the gang, she also falls in love with the charismatic leader, Dutch Van Der Linde. But little does she know, another member of the gang is falling in love with her, as well.

How will Sage cope with being a member of the gang? And what will happen when Dutch begins to lose himself?

Dutch Van Der Linde x OC Arthur Morgan x OC

Major spoilers for RDR2

Based on the awkwardness around camp the next day, quite a few people had heard Sage and Dutch last night, including Arthur. He spent most of the day avoiding her gaze, although he was friendly when they spoke.

Sage was helping Pearson with the stew once again. She sat peeling vegetables as she listened to Sadie and Pearson scream at each other, as usual. She no longer kept August with her when she was helping with dinner, as their screaming would wake him up and cause him to begin screaming every single time. Now, she left him with Abigail while she was working.

“If I don’t get out of here soon, I’m gonna kill somebody!” Sadie growled, holding a knife up to Pearson.

“And if you don’t stop hissing at me, I’m gonna kill you!” Pearson yelled back.

“Come near me, sailor...and I will slice you up!”

“You put that knife down or you’re going to be missing a hand, lady!”

Sage sat calmly peeling her vegetables as they went on and on. This was nothing new to her, it happened absolutely every day. She noticed Arthur walking over from the corner of her eye, looking up at him as he approached.

“What is wrong with you two?” he asked.

“I ain’t chopping vegetables for a living,” Sadie said.

“Oh, I’m sorry madam, was there insufficient feathers in your pillow?” Arthur asked, sarcastically.

“Look, I ain’t lazy, Mr. Morgan. I’ll work, but not this.”

“Well ain’t cooking work?”

Arthur followed Sadie as she stepped away. The two of them spoke, Sage keeping an eye on them.

“Is it really so bad workin’ with me?” Pearson asked, looking a little dejected.

“Of course not, Pearson,” Sage said, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “She’s just having a hard time.”

Arthur walked back over, Sadie behind him.

“You need anything, Mr. Pearson?” Arthur asked, “Maybe me and Mrs. Adler are gonna take a little ride. Sage, why don’t you ride along with us, too.”

“Yeah, sure,” Pearson said, as Sage stood up, walking over towards Sadie and Arthur. “Here’s my list, and can you post this letter for me while you’re there?”

“Sure. Come on, princesses,” Arthur said.

The three of them walked over to the wagon, Arthur and Sadie sitting up front and Sage jumping to sit in the back of the wagon. Dutch caught her eye as she jumped on, and she gave him a little wave, hoping that counted as letting him know she was going out. He looked displeased, but said nothing.

“So I’ve graduated from chopping vegetables to shopping?” Sadie asked.

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Arthur grumbled. Sage stifled a laugh as the three of them headed out of camp and out into Rhodes.

“Where’s that letter?” Sadie asked, after they had been driving for a little while.

“Oh, you reading his mail now?” Arthur asked.

“Oh, robbing and killing’s okay, but letter-reading’s where we draw the line?”

Arthur said nothing, but reached in his pocket and handed her the letter. “Here.”

Sadie cleared her throat dramatically as she began to read Pearson’s letter. “‘Dear Aunt Cathy. I haven’t heard from you in some time, so I prayed to the Lord above that your health has not deteriorated further’...blah blah blah, it’s boring...Oh! Wait a sec, listen to this. ‘Since we last corresponded, I have traveled widely, making no small name for myself.’” The three of them laughed. “‘Before you ask, I am still yet to take a wife, but I can assure you it’s not for a lack of suitors.’”

Arthur was now laughing so hard he could barely drive the wagon, Sage about to fall off the back. She was happy Arthur had invited her along - it was nice to get to know Sadie, she had always seemed like someone she would like to get to know, but never had the chance to.

They pulled up beside the shop in Rhodes not long after, Arthur bringing the wagon to a stop and beginning to climb off.

“Alright, here we are,” he said.

“So? What’s the plan? I shoot the shopkeeper while you two-”

“Sadie!” Sage exclaimed, with a laugh.

“No! You insane?” Arthur asked.

“Well, I thought we was outlaws!”

“Outlaws...not idiots. We rob fools that rob other people. These people, they’re just trying to get by. So you two head on in there, and you buy us some food to eat. And no guns.”

“Are you sure?”

“This time. There’ll be time for killing soon enough.”

Sadie and Sage headed into the shop, while Arthur went off to the post office to mail Pearson’s letter and check to see if any mail had arrived for anyone. The two girls walked into the shop together.

“Hello ladies, how can I help you?” the shopkeeper greeted.

Sadie gave him the list from Pearson, and the shopkeeper disappeared to gather all of their supplies for them.

Sadie sighed. “I’d really like a new outfit.”

Sage, surprised that Sadie had even talked to her, was caught off guard. “What kind of outfit?”

“You know, a shirt and pants. Something easier to move around in, than...this stupid dress.”

Sage smiled with understanding. “Come on. Let’s go see what they’ve got. It’s on me.”

Sadie smiled, which was probably the first time Sage had seen the woman smile since she joined the gang. The two women walked over to the clothing and began looking through the options.

Eventually, she grabbed a yellow shirt and black pants with suspenders. “These might be okay,” she said.

“Well, why don’t we go try them on?”

Sadie nodded with a smile, and the two girls headed to the private changing room. “Will you, uh...come in with me?” Sadie asked.

“Sure,” Sage said, stepping inside and closing the door behind them. Sadie began to change from her dress into her new outfit.

“I’m…” Sage began, “I’m glad you’re here with us, Sadie. I know you’ve heard it a million times but I’m sorry about how you ended up here, but...it’s good to have you.”

Sadie paused for a moment, thinking about her words. “Thank you.” She continued changing. “I’m...glad to have met you, too.”

“I hope you’ll keep helping with the cooking. We can still do exciting things when the times come, but...I enjoy your company.”

Sadie smiled, despite herself. “I like your company, too. Makes working with ol’ Pearson bearable.”

Sage laughed. “He’s not so bad.”

Sadie rolled her eyes. “Oh, he really is.” She began buttoning up the pants. “So, you’re with Dutch, right?” she asked.

“Yes,” Sage smiled as she thought of her husband.

“How did that happen?”

“Well,” Sage began, “I joined the gang when I was 18. He just kind of started...being really nice to me, and paying a lot of attention to me. Then one day, he asked me on a date. A real date. It was...nice. We haven’t been able to go on many of those, even now. But he took me somewhere nice for our first time out together.” Sage smiled at the memory. “It went well, no one recognized him. It was peaceful. Then, a year later, he asked me to marry him. And, just about a year ago, we got married. Reverend Swanson officiated it, so it was real. We married under a beautiful tree by the river with all of the gang there. And again, it was peaceful. No one noticed us. Like things were just meant to be...right. For that day, at least. And then we had our little August.”

“And…” Sadie said, “Forgive me, but what about Arthur?”

Sage was taken aback. “What about Arthur?”

Sadie sighed. “He really likes you, Sage.”

Sage laughed. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Okay, whatever you say,” Sadie shrugged as she attempted to fasten her suspenders. “But I notice things about people. And I notice the way he looks at you. And...the way you look at him.”

Sage blushed. “There’s nothing going on between Arthur and I. We’re just good friends.”

“Okay,” Sadie said, dropping the subject. “Can you help me with these suspenders?”

By the time the girls had finished with the clothes, the shopkeeper had gathered all of their groceries. He offered to carry them out to the wagon, and they accepted.

Just as he was finishing loading the wagon (as Sadie berated him the whole time), Arthur exited the post office and walked back towards them.

“Why don’t you drive?” Arthur asked Sadie as he climbed up onto the front of the wagon.

“Okay,” Sadie said. Sage, who was sitting in the back amongst the groceries, helped her close the back of the wagon.

“Come on, lady, get a move on!” Arthur called.

“I like Sadie, not lady.” Sadie climbed up and began driving the wagon back to camp.

“So, you two get everything?”

“Yeah,” Sage said, “should be everything.”

“And some...new clothes, I see?”

“Don’t start,” Sadie said. “I can wear what I damn well want. Like I told you, my husband and I shared all the work. I wasn’t some little wife with a flower in her hair baking cherry pies all day.”

As the three of them talked, none of them noticed a man riding up on a horse next to their wagon.

“Hey there!” he called.

“Hey,” Arthur said, suspicion in his voice.

“What are you folks up to?”

“Just heading home.”

“You’re in Lemoyne Raider country. You need to pay a toll to pass through here.”

“Keep it cool, girls,” Arthur whispered to Sadie and Sage. “No, I don’t think so,” he said to the man.

“You don’t think so? How about you pull over right now?”

“Pull over?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Hey, how’s about this?” Sadie said, as she pulled out a gun and shot the man.

“Shit!” Arthur said, “Let’s get the hell out of here, go!”

Sage pulled her Schofield revolver out of her holster and began shooting at the other Lemoyne Raiders along with Arthur as Sadie drove the wagon away. She was never any less shocked at how quickly Arthur could take out an army of men, he was so skilled with his guns that it nearly scared her. She wasn’t so bad herself, she had been taught by Arthur and Dutch after all, but Arthur...he was something else.

“What the hell was that?” Arthur asked once most of the raiders had been dealt with.

“They was gonna rob us,” Sadie said.

“Well, you wanted to see some action lady, now you got your wish!” Arthur said as more raiders rode out from the trees. The three of them hopped off the wagon, shooting at the men fearlessly.

“You okay, Sadie?” Sage asked as she shot at one of the men, the bullet going right through his head.

“Of course. You think I can’t handle these fools?”

Arthur took them out with headshot after headshot, the girls holding their own, as well.

“Told you I could shoot a gun, didn’t I?” Sadie asked proudly.

“I don’t remember asking you to prove it,” Arthur said.

Once most of the raiders were dead and the remaining ones were running away, Arthur ran over to the girls. “Are you two okay?” he asked, but his hands were on Sage’s shoulders.

“We’re fine, told you we could hold our own,” Sadie said, giving Sage a knowing smile.

“Yeah. We’re fine,” Sage said.

Arthur said with relief. “Good. Neither of you got hurt?” he asked, pulling Sage into a hug.

“No.”

“Okay then. Let’s get back to camp.”

Everyone jumped back on the wagon, Sadie grabbing the reins. “Alright. I’ll drive us back.”

“No, pass those reins here,” Arthur said.

“Why?”

“Because you’ve caused enough trouble already!”

The rest of the ride back to camp was thankfully uneventful. They pulled up next to Pearson’s tent and the three of them began unloading the groceries from the back of the wagon, as they spoke with Pearson.

“I would ride with you again, Mrs. Adler, Mrs. Van der Linde, if you will ride with me,” Arthur said.

Sadie laughed. “Maybe, if you prove you can handle yourself.”

“Well, they say I lack finesse, but I ain’t afraid of gun smoke.”

“We’ve got this from here, Mr. Morgan,” Pearson said. “And...nice pants, by the way, Sadie.”

//

“You left again without my permission.”

Sage sighed. “This again, Dutch? I didn’t bring August with me. And it was just shopping with Arthur and Sadie.”

“During which you got attacked by a rival gang!”

“And lived!” Sage pointed out, helpfully. “I was with Arthur, Dutch. You trust him, don’t you?”

Dutch looked away. “Listen, Sage. I just worry about you.”

“And I can take care of myself,” she said, placing a hand on his cheek, causing his gaze to meet hers once again. “You’ve got much bigger things to worry about than me.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “Just be safe, Sage.”

“I will, my love.”