#I’m so glad I chose her over an Arabian this play through they just look to small for Arthur

[joyus-whimsy]

Just a Moira appreciation post.

[therookieking412]

Rouge

I had come to live a penniless existence. I had come to write about truth, beauty, freedom… and that which I believed in above all things: Love. There was one problem. I'd never been in love.

Just then, an unconscious Arabian fell through my roof, he was joined by a woman dressed as a duck.

“How to ya do!” She smiled, her hands moving quickly to clean the boards and dust off the Arab, and then four heads were peering down at me through the hole in my roof.

They asked me to step in for the Arab while he slept, and then in the next minute the writer quit the story, and I got the job.

“Congratulations!” The Duck said, hitting me on the back, the pianist and the Arab had joined us for… Absinthe.

“Duck, Mr. Cat will never agree-” The Arab began.

“Have you ever written a play before?”

“No, I-”

“The boy has talent!” She spread her arms, her hand hit my face. “Oops!”

“Wait, I- I can’t write for you!”

“Why not?” She pouted, the glass in her other hand had spilled.

“Well, I don’t know if I can-”

“Do you believe in Beauty?” She asked, taking my hand.

“Yes.”

“Freedom?” The Arab asked.

“Of course!”

“Truth?” the pianist said.

“Yes.”

“Love?” Duck asked me.

“Love?” I stared into her eyes. “Love? Love? Above all things I believe in love!”

So, we formed a plan, to convince Mr. Cat to let me write the show.

A plan that involved…

Femio.

And with that, I had my first taste of Absinthe.

We flew to the Moulin Rogue, where it was loud and colorful, where everyone was so very alive, they were singing and dancing, men and women, women and women, men and men.

It seemed like chaos, it seemed like peace.

And I was in the center of it.

Then, everything fell silent, people moved from the center of the floor, the lights dimmed, and I heard a voice, the voice of an angel.

“The French are glad to die for love.”

I could see no one, but then, I out my gaze on the heavens, and there he was, floating in the sky, sparkling under the concentrated lights.

All eyes were on him, and I fell victim to his charms.

I saw Mr. Cat look over in my direction, and then he looked right into my eyes.

I realized that I would do anything for him, I would die for him, I would love him for all eternity.

“The prince is here!” I heard Duck whisper to Fakir.

It broke my concentration, my head turned to scold the girl for speaking out of turn, and then, out of the corner of my eye, pink.

There he stood, his ensemble changed, something feathered and pink, a shining diamond heart sta right above his-

“Sorry, boys!” He shouted over the rest of the crowd. “Ladies choice.” He held out his hand to me and I was too stunned to take it. He pouted and whined, and the rest of the crowd pouted with him.

I opened my mouth, but he grabbed my hand, and pulled me out onto the dancefloor.

The world disappeared, colors flashed around us, but I didn’t see them.

He left me to rise back up into the sky, to sing one last chorus, but something happened, I held my breath as he fell from his perch, I rushed to catch him, but someone else was there, and he was pulled away.

I was escorted to something called the elephant room, to await Femio, when I asked if he was alright, the light woman told me it was nothing more than a dramatic flourish.

I swallowed, something made me fidget, I would see him again, with no one else to interrupt us, no one else would get between us…

I was only supposed to show him my poetry, to get him on board for the play, but… if something else were to occur…

There was no knock, but he stepped out, dressed in black.

A nervousness consumed me, what if I said the wrong thing?

“My- my gift.” I stuttered, I never stuttered!

“Shh! No, no, this is no time for you to tell me about your gifts, this is the time to show me.” He stepped closer, but I turned away.

He wasn’t making this very easy!

“My gift.” His hand was on my shoulder, trailing down my back, and I jumped away. “My gift is my song! And this one’s for you.”

He stopped, blinking as his hand fell to his side.

I took it in mine, and shared with him the poetry I had rehearsed and memorized.

It made him smile, his eyes twinkled in the moonlight. Was this love? Was this the feeling I was meant to write about?

The thing I believed in?

I wanted to kiss him, so badly, but then he said.

“I can’t believe I’m in love. In love with a young, handsome, talented prince.”

“Prince?” I laughed, my lips mere inches from his. “I’m not a prince.”

“You’re not?” His eyes widened, and he seemed to fit the pieces together. “You're not one of Duck's talented, Bohemian, impoverished protégés?”

“Uh-”

“Oh, no!”

There was a knock at the door.

“The Prince! Hide!”

I was frightened, I hid behind a table, and he threw out his robe to hide me further as the Prince came in with Mr. Cat.

Femio did his best to hid me, but the truth became apparent soon.

His eyes… his eyes were a jealous, all consuming, raw pink. He glared at me, and demanded what I was doing here.

“Rehreasing!” Femio smiled. “For a play called-”

“Called-”

“You expect me to believe that you’re rehearsing for a play in an elephant, dressed like that?”

“How’s the rehearsal going!” Duck said, announcing her presence as she waltzed into the elephants head through the window.

“I hope the piano’s tuned!” Penny said, baning his hands on sour notes.

“What’s going on in here?” Mr. Cat asked, and gasped at what he saw.

“Mr. Cat! You’re here!” Femio smiled, moving to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “My precious prince here is interested in investing.”

“Oh, investing!”

“Investing?” The Prince asked.

“In a play!”

“Called Spectacular, Spectacular.” Duck announced. “Our dear boy is writing it!”

All of us moved to improvise a story, one that would interest the likes of a man such as the Prince, a tale of a princess, a knight, and a Prince.

“And in the end should someone die?”

It was luck alone that got us through that encounter, with the Prince promising to invest, as long as he was involved in the process. As long as he saw Femio.

The others celebrated, and my mind was fixated on Femio, I could see him, standing on top of the elephant, leaning out to see the world, and so I went up to meet him.

“Clever.” He said, not turning to face me. “Convincing the prince like that.”

“You deserve better than him.”

“Do I?”

“You deserve the world.”

He sighed, and turned to face me. “No, men like me… men of the night, we deserve one thing and one thing only.”

“Love.”

He chuckled.

“The best thing in the whole world is to love and be loved in return.”

“Pretty words.” He breathed the fresh Parisian air. “What is your name?”

“Autor.”

“And you know mine already.”

“Femio, please- “

“I will be fine, I will simply give the Prince everything he has ever wanted, and he will move on, and so will I.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that.” I was bold, I took his hand. “What you said before, earlier tonight, that you love-”

“That I loved you? I thought you were the prince. It was an act.”

“Was it? I saw the look in your eyes, the way you looked at me. Say it again.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No, silly, love-struck boy, you couldn’t pay me enough to say those words.”

“Love comes for free.”

“Everything comes for a price.”

“Not love.” I shook my head, my hand bold as it reached up and traced the edge of his jaw. “Love is oxygen, love is all you need.”

He closed his eyes. “I have loved a thousand times, I won’t make the same mistake again.”

“You won’t.” I took the chance he presented to me, and I kissed him.

Lips as soft as a rose, breathe as intoxicating as wine, for one single moment he was mine, and I knew it wasn’t enough.

We parted and he left me, but I saw it in his eyes, that first spark.

The Moulin Rouge was getting turned into a theater in order to host Spectacular, Spectacular, Femio was our Lead, our Prince, with Duck as his Princess, and Fakir as his knight. Mr. Cat was adamant about being the evil Monster Raven.

A day did not pass where I didn’t see him, where I didn’t speak to him, but I had to be careful, for wherever Femio was, the Prince was also.

He had laid some claim on Femio, and no one else was allowed to be with him, but that didn’t stop me.

And it didn’t stop him from falling madly in love with me.

I knew with every glance he stole to look at me, with every soft smile he gave me, with the flush of his cheeks I knew he was mine.

There came a night, I had planned to meet him, but it was a test, because I knew that he was supposed to see the Prince tonight as well.

I was forcing his hand, making him choose.

Me or the Prince.

He never came, but by the morning, I heard that he hadn’t see the Prince either.

“He was seen by the Doctor.” I heard, as I walked past all the actors. “Coughing up blood.”

I rushed to see him, he was pale, still in bed, but he seemed happy to see me. “I was sick.” He said simply.

I cradled him in my arms, and apologized, I had forced him to choose when I knew it couldn’t be done. If he chose me over the Prince, what would happen to the Moulin Rouge? His home would be abandoned.

“I can’t keep doing this…” He turned his head to the window, the pale light of dawn filtering through. “Choosing you over the Prince, but, Autor… he holds the deeds in his hands.”

“I know, I’ll-I’ll write a song.” I rushed to his side. “And whenever you hear it, or hum, or sing.” I placed my hand on his cheek, he was so warm, something had taken hold of him. “You’ll think of me, and it’ll mean that we love each other.”

I kissed him, his lips hot, I was desperate and sloppy, but I knew it was okay because his hand rested on my cheek, and his lips moved with mine.

“Come what may.” I whispered into his lips.

“Come what may.” He nodded, pressing his forehead to mine.

But… he was right, eventually, the Prince demanded everything that Femio owed him.

We all sat, waiting for the night to end, all of us knew…

This wasn’t what Femio wanted…

We all knew that Femio was selling his body to the night.

“Jealousy will drive you mad.” Fakir said. “If it hasn’t already.”

Duck was sitting close by him.

“In my home, we have a tale about a prostitute, and a man… who fell in love with her.” He stood, there was something predatory about his gaze, he was trying to warn me, while also telling me it was too late. “She sells herself to the night, to other men. There is desire, passion, but suspicion! Jealousy! Anger! Betrayal! When Love is for the highest bidder there can be no trust. And when there is no trust, there is no love.”

“Duck.” I said, my throat dry, my eyes wet. “Why does…?”

She stood, leaving Fakir and coming to me, her hand on my shoulder.

“Why does my heart cry?”

She hugged me, and I saw Fakir roll his eyes.

“The Prince will get what he wants, will you still have Femio once he’s done with him?”

Come what may.

I left, the air stifling, the pitying looks suffocating, but as I walked into the cold night, I walked beneath the tower, where Femio and the Prince were to share dinner, and I saw them, out on the balcony.

Femio’s shoulders were bare, a sparkling necklace around his throat, the Prince kissed his shoulder blades.

“Come what may, come what may, I will love you, until my dying-”

His voice floated over me like soft rain, I stopped, but so did the Prince.

I meet his eyes, and even from the distance I could see the anger swelling inside of them. I watched uselessly as the Prince pulled Femio back inside.

I ran, I ran because something awful was about to happen, and as my hand reached for the doorknob, the door opened, and Lysander was there, holding Femio, his neck neck, dressed in nothing but his underclothes.

Femio was passed into my arms, behind Lysander the Prince had crumpled to the floor.

I kissed his tender temple, I whispered promises that we would run away together, that we would have a good life.

When he woke, he went off to pack his bag, to leave a note of good-bye, and I was doing just the same, my heart fluttering inside of my chest.

Everything was going my way.

There was a gentle knock at my door, and it was Femio, carrying no trunk, and wearing a sober ensemble.

“The Prince came to me last night… he apologized for everything… and promised me everything, that he would make me a star.” There was red around his eyes, I knew had been crying, that he was hurt, but it was a wound he wouldn’t let me mend. “Go home.”

I didn’t want to believe Femio, but when he left, my whole world faded into nothingness.

I sat, alone, in the dark, even when Duck came the darkness did not abade.

The show would go on, and I felt anger like no other consumed me.

It was my play, my story, my love!

I thought Femio wanted love, the love I had to offer, but he was just using me, using me to write him a play, and only when it was finished did he leave me.

And run to the Prince.

I did what I thought I had to do, I sold my typewriter and bought a ticket to Spectacular Spectacular.

The audience was packed, its what I deserved, what my play deserved, and I would never receive any of the glory.

I marched in, and went to the backstage, determined to see Femio, to be the one to get the final word.

I could hear them laughing and cheering, I could hear the applause, and I could hear him, his clear voice as he spoke my words, the words I wrote for him.

It must have been the Knight’s death scene, but as Fakir tried to stop me from getting on stage before falling asleep, I was at the trap door.

I entered, and Femio faltered.

“Ah!” Mr. Cat cried. “The Knight! Though you wear a clever disguise! I can still smell you!”

The audience gasped.

“I have not come to vanquish you, Raven.” I said, I knew the lines by heart. “I have been betrayed! By the Prince!”

The audience gasped.

I refused to say the Knight’s soliloquy.

A proclamation of loyalty and dedication.

“Had I known the truth, I would have stayed far away!”

There was confusion, what truth was I speaking off? What secret was being kept?

“Autor.” I heard him say, lowly, so that only I could hear.

A chill went down my spine, and I could only think of the times he called my name, between kisses during the day, between carases during the night.

But before I could create a grand story for the audience, Duck fell from the ceiling, proclaiming.

“Autor! They’ve got a gun! They’re going to kill you!” She dangled from a rope, and cried once more. “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love! And be loved! In return!”

“Come what may!” Femio sang in my ear. “I will love you.” His voice rose. “Until the end of time!”

The Prince stood, “Seize him!”

Femio pushed me to the ground, and there was a rush as everyone tried to run off the stage, or grab me.

“No matter what you say! The show is ending our way!” Duck said, still dangling from the rope.

There was a gun somewhere, it went off, severing the rope just as Fakir walked out onto stage, his arms thrusting out to catch Duck.

I stood to my feet, my hands finding Femio’s.

The gun was in Mr. Cat’s hands and the band started again, Penny’s beautiful score filling the air the knight was supposed to be ripped to pieces, but instead, Femio and I were lifted into the air, and together we defeated the Raven, and the gun flung from his grasp.

The audience cheered and I wondered for the first time if a happy ending would suit my story better.

I smiled, and the world was right, I kissed Femio for the last time.

He smiled too, but soon he grew pale, and cold, he coughed, and fainted.

He blinked rapidly, unseeing. His fingers clawed at me face, and there was nothing I could say, no words came to me, all I could whisper was “Come what may.”

His lips moved, forming the words, but they never reached my ears.

The tips of his fingers traced my lips.

“Come… what… may… come…”

His hand fell and his eyes, oh his eyes stared up lifelessly into the sky.

I cleared the blood that trickled from his mouth and cradled his body close to my chest, I felt my heart tear itself apart, and I couldn’t even hear my pitiful cries as the appalus rose into the air.

Time passed, and my heart healed, my love, all my love, still belonged to him, so I did my best to write a story about a time….

About a place…

About the people…

But above all, a story about love, a love that will live forever.

The End.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

The Hidden Truth

For the nonny who wanted Arthur finding out his pixelated origins!

Summary: Arthur accidentally discovers the Red Dead Redemption 2 game and has some questions.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Modern!Reader

Warnings: Angst, cursing

It was a rainy morning, stuck inside as it stormed outside, with nothing but the sound of the rain splattering against your windows and the thunder that rumbled in the distance. The TV was on, set at a low volume. You weren’t really paying attention anyway, you sat curled up on your couch as your kitten lay dozing in your lap. You pet her slowly as you scrolled through your phone with your free hand.

The peace was interrupted when a loud crash pierced the air, originating from the kitchen. You jumped as your cat was up in a split second, a puffball on your legs as her claws dug into your flesh in surprise. You gave a small yelp of pain as you jumped up and the poor kitten went falling to the ground.

“Arthur?” You called out.

A moment later, a sandy blonde head appeared through the kitchen doorway, a sheepish expression on his face. “Sorry, Y/N. I dropped a bowl on the floor…kinda a mess now.”

You sighed. “How bad is it? Are you hurt?”

He shook his head. “Nah, just need to clean it up. Spilled some cereal, though…”

“Broom’s in the closet,” you gestured to the door next to the front entrance. “You gave Artemis and I a heart attack, ya know.”

He chuckled slightly, walking to the closet. “Sorry again.”

You didn’t respond as you sat down on the couch once again, diving deep into the bowels of social media to entertain yourself. You heard him open the door and rummage through a couple of things, knowing that you’d hastily thrown in random items in there at some point, you kind of felt bad that you didn’t organize them properly. Oh well, a chore for another time.

It’d fallen silent for a few seconds. You peered over your phone to see Arthur had backed out from the closet with something other than the broom.

Your heart sank when you recognized the unmistakable red cover.

“Wha-“

You’d never moved so fast as you did in just that moment, launching yourself across the room at what felt like hyper-speed to snatch it out of his hands. He looked at you in surprise.

“That has my name on it,” he stated, his eyes wide. “What is it?”

“Nothing you need to be concerned about!” You blurted out, speaking quickly. “Just get that broom okay?”

The look on his face told you that he didn’t believe you. He narrowed his eyes in thought and suspicion. “Y/N, is there somethin’ you ain’t tellin’ me?”

“Nothing at all!” You exclaimed, tucking the game under your arm. “Come on, I don’t want to get ants-“

“Y/N.” His voice was hard, almost dominating. “Please. If you hide it, I’m gonna find it.”

You held his gaze, saying nothing. You knew he was right, and now that it was out, nothing was going to stop him from finding out more. After a long minute, you sighed. “I figured this would happen sooner or later,” You gestured toward the couch. You both walked toward it and sat down, him watching you with curious eyes. “Just don’t freak out.”

You placed the game on the coffee table, reading the name to yourself. The drawing of Arthur stood stark. The game that started it all. He reached out and flipped it over, observing the description and images. You watched as his brow furrowed and his lips turned into a slight frown, the confusion only growing as he read on.

“I’m…I…what is this?” He asked, giving you the most lost look ever.

You sighed again, your hands wringing in your lap. “It’s…well, a video game.”

“A video game,” he repeated slowly. “Like what you showed me on your…uh, smart phone?”

You nodded. “Except this one is for my PlayStation- er, a completely different system,” you explained. “And the reason why your name is on it is, well, because you’re from it.”

He stared at you. “What do you mean?”

You bit your lip. “Arthur, you technically aren’t a real person. You’re from this made up world in this game.”

“Of course I’m real!” He exclaimed. “I’m flesh and blood, same as you!”

You winced at his outburst. “Yes, now you are, for some unknown reason. But the night before you appeared, I was just playing AS you on this game. A fictional character in a fictional world.”

“Playing as me?” He repeated. “I still don’t understand, Y/N. How could I be from that…game…if I’m right here?”

“I don’t know, Arthur,” you slumped forward, placing your chin on your hands in thought. “It’s like the day I told you when you showed up. I don’t know why you’re here or how you even got here. If I knew the answer, I would have told you a long time ago.”

He huffed and stood up, beginning to pace as he ran his fingers through his hair in thought. “Nothin’ makes sense anymore…” he grumbled.

You’re telling me. You thought, watching him silently. “Arthur…” you mumbled, trying to think of anything to say that could remedy this situation.

He paused and turned to you. “This ain’t some joke, right?” When you shook your head, he continued. “I swear if it is-“

“You’ll what, leave and get yourself lost in this world that you don’t know the first thing about?” You interrupted with a fierceness in your voice. You stood up as well. “Look, I promise you I’m not tricking you, okay? Now please, calm down.”

He gave you an incredulous look, his lips parted although he said nothing. Giving another huff, he folded his arms. “Alright, I’m calm. Just…explain to me, please.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to even go about this. You’ve explained what you knew and didn’t know, so you decided to start from the beginning. “This game, Red Dead Redemption 2, I bought it a little while back. The way it plays…it’s kind of like a book. You follow a storyline. It begins with when you find Colter, then the O’Driscoll camp ambush, the Cornwall train heist, to Horseshoe Overlook, Valentine, Strawberry and so on. When I last played, you were still in Saint Denis with-“

“Dutch and John,” he finished. “After gettin’ Jack back.”

You nodded slowly. “You’d just left Bronte’s mansion at that point when I stopped for the night.”

“That’s one of the last things the last thing I remember, before passin’ out at some point” he murmured, tilting his head down, a trait he acquired to hide his eyes behind the brim of his hat, even though he wasn’t wearing it at the moment. “Christ, you know every single detail then?”

“Yes, Arthur. Because I become you when I play the game. It’s like when you immerse yourself in a good story, except you can control the character. The way you dress, the guns you carry, the horses you ride, the white Arabian-that’s all me, it’s been me.”

He didn’t look at you, instead turning away as if to hide. You however had caught the expression on his face, the absolute bewilderment and a twinge of sadness. “So…I’m just…an empty shell? A puppet for someone else’s control?”

You realized with a jolt of regret that it was probably the wrong way to explain it. “Of course not, Arthur,” you said gently, reaching out for his hand, but he pulled it away. “The life you’ve lead-“ or programmed, “has been your own up until Colter. I may have influenced your decisions, but you still have your own self.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?” He whispered, still refusing to look at you.

“You’re speaking to me, aren’t you?” You replied. “A puppet can’t speak for itself, not even have a personality.”

He turned his head ever so slightly, peering at you from the corner of his eye.

“A puppet can’t feel anything. No joy, sorrow, or anger,” You continued. “Yet you stand here feeling confused.”

He made a low noise and turned to look at you fully.

“A puppet also can’t make me feel the things I’ve felt…for you…” you whispered, reaching out for his hands, glad he didn’t shy from your touch this time. “And the way you’ve made me feel, both physically and emotionally.”

You could see the faintest blush form on his stubbled cheeks as he cast his eyes away briefly, and a hint of a smile played at the edge of his lips. “I ‘spose you got me there…”

You smiled as well. “I know it’s a lot to take in, Arthur. And quite frankly, no one’s issues are as unique as yours.”

“Sure as hell got that right,” he snorted without humor. “Does that mean… Dutch and the others…they don’t exist?”

“Well, that’s a good question,” you remembered thinking about the Van der Linde gang a few times, why it had been only Arthur and not any of the others that appeared to you. “I don’t know if they’re still in the game or if they’re in the same situation as you somewhere else.”

He glanced at the game, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Can…we look?”

And there was the question. With the Arthur from your game standing right in front of you, you had no idea if the game would even work at this point. But there was only one way to find out. You reluctantly crossed to the closet, reaching up to grab your console from the top shelf. Arthur watched you silently as you set it up, hooking the cables and wires in the correct places. Grabbing the controller, you turned the PlayStation on and waited for it to boot up. Greeted by the welcoming music, you logged onto your account and popped the CD in.

Glancing at Arthur, who stared patiently at the screen, you took a deep breath and started the game.

It felt like eons for it to load, wondering if the console detected a big loss in the game’s programming. Yet the unmistakable title appeared before the menu took its place. You held your breath as you chose to continue your gameplay, still waiting for the imminent crash.

Yet nothing happened. You stared in complete shock as the screen displayed the smokey atmosphere of Saint Denis, people bustling about, and Arthur himself standing, waiting to be moved.

Your jaw dropped.

“That…that’s me!” Arthur gawked. “That’s really me!”

“Holy…fucking…shit!” You gasped, and moved the joystick. He moved, no glitching or crashing. “What the actual…how?!”

Your gazes met, both with matching expressions of utter shock. There was no way this should happen. There was no way both Arthurs should exist. The one that stood before you was your Arthur. You knew it immediately from the moment you laid eyes on him. Yet there he was in the game still.

You paused the game and dropped the controller, unable to control the tornado that ran through your mind. You fell back to the couch, holding your head as you failed to even comprehend what was going on. He reached for the controller slowly, his eyes never leaving the screen. He began to press random buttons. Your hand shot out immediately, grabbing his arm. “Arthur-don’t fuck with it-“

“I just wanna-“ he started.

“No.” You said sternly. “If you start playing as yourself right now, I’m going to die from a stroke when my brain breaks.”

He didn’t question as to what that meant, instead he sighed and placed the controller on the coffee table, and took a seat next to you. “So…what does this mean, then?”

You let out a long sigh, unsure how to even answer that question. “Well, I guess it means you’re officially a real person.” You gave him a shrug, grabbing the controller and turning your PS4 off.

You two sat in silence for a few minutes, your mind abuzz with what just occurred and his no doubt the same. You weren’t sure what to do next, should you continue as normal? Let him play the game out of curiosity? Or let it go back to its hiding place and never speak of it again?

He grunted as he shifted, standing up once again. “I should probably clean up that cereal now.”

You were almost thankful for the subject change. “Good idea.”

He once again made his way to the closet, finally digging out the broom from its home. He quietly made his way back to the kitchen when he paused in the doorway, glancing back at you. “Hey…two means there was another Red Dead Redemption before?”

Surprised by the question, you nodded.

“Am I in it?”

You shook your head. You couldn’t exactly explain that his game was a prequel without making it complicated. “Unfortunately no, John’s the main character in that one.”

“Huh,” he murmured in thought. “Marston? Who woulda thought…” he disappeared into the kitchen, mumbling something about raccoons.