#1% of his time he acts like a princess (arthur)

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 2

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: As you can see, I switched up the posting schedule slightly (check out the series masterlist for new "coming soon" dates). Thank you, guys so much for all the responses on Part 1! I hope you have just as much fun with Part 2. 😉

Word Count: 5.9K

Tags/Warnings: "Lies, lies, lies, yeah." ‘80s references, a new mission (and violence), cattiness, and some more cat and mouse tension.  

🎙️ Series Masterlist || YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 2: Foolish Game

“You know, we really are a family here. The whole Payback team,” Crimson Countess said.

Her voice was filled with earnestness as she held the microphone to her ruby red lips with both gloved hands. She smiled and reached out a hand to you.

“But it’s truly my pleasure to welcome Sirena into the fold. It’s about time we got another badass chick on the team, am I right?”

She knew how to play up the packed crowd in the auditorium. They roused with cheers and clapping, and you stepped closer to her in the spotlight.

It wasn’t entirely an act when you gave them (and several cameras) a somewhat shy smile. You’d been on stages almost all your life, but never one like this. You knew you were being seen by the entire country right now.

On Countess’s other side was Soldier Boy and the TNT Twins, while on your side stood Black Noir, Swatto, and Mindstorm keeping himself in the back. Off at the far left of the stage were Arthur and Madelyn Stillwell, both seemingly patient and professional.

“And you look great, hun. I love the new suit,” Countess said, gesturing at you with a playful air.

You smiled a little more and affected some humility. You tried not to adjust the black mask sitting on the bridge of your nose. It felt like a pair of pool goggles.

“Well, a little leather goes a long way,” you joked into your own mic. It earned some laughs from the sea of flashing lights amidst darkness.

Countess laughed, a sultry sound. “I know that’s right.”

“I’m really just so grateful to be here on this incredible stage with you all,” you said, casting a hand at the rest of the team. “I’m just a girl from a dusty little town in Indiana. Seriously. Imagine Smallville, Kansas, but more tumbleweeds.”

Cue more indulgent laughter. The lie was well-rehearsed on your tongue, along with this next bit, as you looked into the closest camera.

“But if you all see some small greatness in me, then I’m honored and ready to serve,” you finished.

Enthusiastic applause met the end of your little speech. You smiled and lowered the mic. Countess nodded in agreement and offered her mic to Soldier Boy next. He stepped up to the center podium and leaned on it like he was John Wayne.

“Well, it’s a good day when another hero joins our ranks. I have a feeling that Sirena,” he paused, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, “Is gonna be a good fit.”  

You didn’t like that smile on his face, but instead of letting that show on yours, you gave him a grateful smile. He had the gall to wink at you. Then he handed the mic back to Arthur and stepped back from the podium.

“All right, one more time, you guys. Let’s hear it for Sirena!” Arthur said to the crowd, and they erupted. You accepted the praise with a demure smile and a congenial wave, like you were Princess Diana or something.

The rest of your team gave perfunctory claps as well, but Soldier Boy was the first to head off stage. Countess and the rest of them followed suit, so you did as well. She and Soldier Boy didn’t even share a glance when she stopped off into the women’s restroom. An idea struck you, and you decided to join her.

“Hey, Countess,” you began to say, but she let out a humorless huff.

“What, are you going to follow me into the fucking stall?” she said dryly.

You were momentarily taken aback by her acidity. You blinked, and she turned to give you a bored look.

“I…just wanted to say that I really look up to you,” you said.

“Do you?” she asked, with a slightly mocking smile. Her gaze briefly ran down your form. “Is that why your suit looks like a Dollar Store knockoff of mine?”

Ah…okay, you thought. You saw what this bitch was about. She’d supported you in the public eye, but she didn’t actually want another woman on the team. She’d been a powerhouse for over a decade, and not just her years at Vought.

But for every icon, there’s the threat of becoming an old has-been, you thought. 

“Well, you’ve got a point there. I asked for a cape too, but they thought it was a bit too…retro,” you remarked, hinting at a smile as you gestured at her suit, and the long red cape that draped down her back. “But really, I’m a big fan. I actually grew up watching you when I was a kid. I remember that little documentary you did with Vought Geographic. The one with the baby chimps? So cute.”

Countess’s brow twitched, ever so slightly. Both her fake smile and yours remained the same.

She broke first with a roll of her eyes.

“Just stay out of my way,” she said. Her cape brushed your arm as she breezed past you. Your smile remained until she was out of the room. Then you took a deep breath.

Be careful, you reminded yourself. You had to prove that you wouldn’t easily bend to whatever bullshit might get thrown at you, but you were still the rookie here. You had a feeling that this was just the first test of many.

You kept your guard up, even at the afterparty hosted at a nearby hotel. Tessa followed Countess’s lead and gave you fake smiles when you passed by her. Otherwise, she ignored you. Mindstorm was the only one who seemed truly indifferent towards you. (You barely ever saw him out of his room anyway.)

You couldn’t much tell with Black Noir. He’d never taken his helmet off in the few days since you’d met him, but you sensed nothing but vague interest from him. The other three men were more obvious in the way they looked at you.

In fact, you could’ve predicted the way Soldier Boy found you in a slightly quieter corner of the banquet hall. His gait was relaxed and arrogant as he made his way towards you.

He annoyed you on sight, no matter how damn attractive he was. All broad shouldered and brown hair coiffed, his face mostly clean shaven, save for some stubble. With his military green supe suit, the silver decal of an eagle stretched across his broad chest—he certainly looked the part of America’s first hero. Too bad he was also a chauvinistic ass.

But you also had a plan. It had started to form after that first encounter with him in the break room.

You kept your true thoughts off your face as you turned to greet him. He was holding his fifth tumbler of whiskey, and he smelled like it too. You sipped at a glass of red wine.

“Small town girl, huh?” he said, smiling with old-world charm. “I happen to be a city boy.”

“Born and raised in South Detroit?” you teased. “I didn’t take you for a Journey fan.”

“The mean streets of Philly, actually,” he said, with a tip of his imaginary hat. “I may be a Sinatra kind of guy, but I don’t mind a little rock ‘n roll.”

You inclined your head. “Same here. Not that my parents approved. Growing up, I had to hide my Rolling Stones records under the bed.”

That much was true.

“Ah, a little rebel,” he remarked. His gaze roamed down your form, and back up to your eyes, shaded by smokey makeup. “Who knew they made ‘em like you in Indiana.”

Your lips curved. “It’s not just cows and cornfields.”

“Evidently,” he said, taking a swig of his whiskey. “How do you like the big city so far?”

“To be honest, I haven’t had a chance to see much of it yet. This whole thing has been a whirlwind,” you said.

Lie.

The truth was, you were born and raised in Brooklyn. Maybe you had never lived in Manhattan before, but you were no stranger to the city.

Ben not only ate up the lie; he took the bait.

“Maybe I’ll give you a tour of the city one day,” he said. He thumbed at your chin once again with half-gloved fingers.

You tipped your face up to him, and you smiled.

“I’d like that.”

Your first mission with Payback was not at all what you expected.

To start with, you’d expected to do some patrolling, run down some leads, do some investigating. Instead, they had a Surveillance & Security team to do all of that for the team. Plus, they were patched in via the local police scanner of any new crimes in progress.

Arthur had paged you to come to his office. There he told you that you’d actually be going for your first save today. You were excited, until he told you that you’d be on a “team up” with Crimson Countess.

Great, you thought.

She didn’t look happy about it either, when you met her in the lobby downstairs. She gave you another frigid look before she swiftly exited the double doors.

Stay out of my way. You got the message loud and clear.   

A black SUV took you two to the Lower West Side, where there was a robbery in progress. The front window of the jewelry story had been shattered, and tens of thousands of dollars in merchandise stolen by two masked men according to the store clerk. He’d been shot in the shoulder before the men took off. The police had yet to find them.

The most unnerving part of this was the cameras that followed you and Countess while you canvassed the area—like catching criminals was some kind of reality show.

“I think I can feel them,” you said, with your fingers on your temples. “They’re headed south through the alley.”

“Which alley?” she asked, waving a hand at the several blocks ahead of you. “And what do you mean you can feel them?”

You shot her a look, endeavoring not to be snarky. “I can sense them.”

Let’s just say, your powers were particularly potent when it came to men. That’s what allowed you to feel the robbers’ energies, set high with adrenaline. They were close.

You pointed the way, and Countess begrudgingly went along with it.

“Follow my lead though,” she said.

You agreed in the moment, but you were filled with maybe too much anticipation and excitement yourself when you turned the corner into the alley without waiting for your companion.

You found yourself staring down the barrel of a gun.

You froze, your breath stilling in your lungs. The safety clicked, and the man holding the weapon quirked his head.

“Haven’t seen you before,” he drawled.

“But you know me. Don’t you, handsome?”

Countess’s fist landed squarely across the man’s jaw. He yelped as the weapon clattered out of his hand. You jumped back as the gun fired, ricochetting off the brick wall. Countess rolled her eyes and tossed a fireball at the next man, who jumped out of his hiding place behind the dumpster. He screamed and dove to the side.

She didn’t wait for him to recover. Grabbing him by the collar with a gloved hand, she threw one hard punch that broke the man’s jaw. You winced at the telltale cracking sound. The other man just held his hands up in surrender, wide-eyed and afraid. You felt his fear radiating off of him. With another swift punch, she knocked him out as well.

You could only stand there with your mouth open in surprise. You managed to close it when Countess turned your way.

“I told you to follow my damn lead,” she said coolly.

The police filtered in shortly after, as did the camera crew. The director sighed at Countess.

“This was supposed to be Sirena’s first save,” he said. Countess turned to him with a sharp look.

“Train her fucking better then,” she snapped.

You chewed the inside of your lip, but you fought not to outwardly show your embarrassment. Why’d they have to partner you with her, for fuck’s sake?

The car ride back to the Tower was just as tense and silent. At least there was a black partition between you two in the backseat and the driver.

Finally, you sighed and tried to offer an olive branch.

“Look, I’m sorry. I just got a bit excited,” you said.

“You almost got yourself killed,” she drawled, not even looking at you as she gazed boredly out the window. “Even that would’ve been a challenge for the PR team.”

Your lips pursed in irritation. Oh, my God. Is she that insecure?

“Countess, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m not trying to replace you. I’m not trying to take anything from you.”

“Except my boyfriend,” she shot back. Finally she turned her head towards you with cool disdain. “You think I didn’t see you flirting with him last night at the afterparty?”   

You rolled your eyes, though you hid a sliver of embarrassment. You should’ve known she’d spot that.

“He approached me, okay?” you said. Maybe you were about to let your pettiness to get the best of you, but you couldn’t help it. You smiled slyly. “And from what I hear, I’m the least of your worries. Looks like Ben has quite the appetite.”

The cracks of Countess’s cool façade finally broke through to anger. She glared at you tightly.

“He may have his little toys, but they never last long,” she said pointedly. “The only reason he’s giving you the time of day is because you’re new, and shiny, and full of silicon.”

“And young,” you added with a wink. “Don’t forget young.”

She seethed, and you were almost concerned that she might toss a fireball your way. Mercifully, the car rolled to a stop in the back entrance to the Tower to make it easier to navigate past any paparazzi. You slid out on your side, and you didn’t bother waiting for Countess when you went back inside the Tower.

All the way back up the elevator to your floor, you thought about the way you’d frozen at the sight of the man’s gun. You did have proper combat training. Your dad had paid for the lessons.

“You’re gonna pay us back one day,” as he’d said. “We’re investing in our future, just as much as yours.”

You shook your head and sighed. You should have grabbed the robber’s arm and reached for any flash of skin you could touch to compel him into submission.

The thought continued to unsettle you as you went into the breakroom first for something to eat. You ended up making yourself a sandwich and sat down at the nearby dining table with an unsweetened tea. Swatto happened to fly in for a coke and an old slice of pizza. When he noticed you, his insect-like wings folded back into his back after he landed on the ground.

Out of everyone, his suit looked the most cumbersome with the big shoulder armor and the condom-like mask over half his face. You understood why he wasn’t wearing it now. He was dressed down in an old Ramones shirt and a pair of jeans. He ran his fingers through his short hair and slid into the chair closest to you.

“Hey. How’s it going, beautiful?” he asked, with what was likely meant to be a charming smile.

You were close enough to sense his salacious thoughts. You restrained a sigh. Ordinarily you’d entertain him a bit more, but frankly, he was making a bad day worse and you weren’t in the mood.

So you smiled. While your hand slid over his on the table, you leaned in close to his ear.

“Shoo, fly,” you said. Your words held power as your eyes glowed violet.

Immediately, you felt the way Swatto’s body sat up straighter. With a blankness falling over his face, he got up from the table and left the way he came, forgetting his snacks on the table.

You shook your head and continued eating your sandwich in peace.

A few minutes later, there came an even rarer sighting—Mindstorm snuck into the breakroom next. He glanced at you with wary eyes, like a deer pausing before it took a drink from the pool. When you just stared at him in slight bewilderment, he quickly rucked through the cupboards for a bag of Bugles labeled:

MINDSTORM’S – DO NOT EAT!

As if anyone would want to steal a bag of Bugles.

Just when you opened your mouth to offer him some kind of greeting, Mindstorm quickly ducked out of the room. You blinked in confusion.

“Odd,” you said to yourself. “So very odd.”

“Right?” came a voice behind you. You screamed and nearly jumped out of your skin, but you realized it was only Black Noir, holding a beer.

“Jesus…” You held a hand over your beating heart. It wasn’t the first time he’d snuck up on you like that. Can this guy wear a bell or something?

“Don’t mind him. He’s got a few dozen screws loose,” said Noir.

Unlike the other two, he was fully suited up. However, he took his helmet off and set it on the table so he could drink. You held in a breath, as you were pleasantly surprised to see the face of a handsome black man. It was the first time you’d ever seen him unmasked.

Wonder what else he’s hiding under there, you thought. Your gaze briefly dipped down his chest and strong-looking thighs.

You both chatted over small things at first. According to Noir, Mindstorm’s apartment was completely soundproof, but it didn’t do much good for the guy, since he had a hard time keeping people’s thoughts out of his head. You thought New York City was probably a terrible place for him to live, in that case.

“And you’re smalltown, right?” Noir asked.

You offered a half-smile. “Guilty.”

“Yeah, same here,” he said, raising his beer. “From a nowhere town in Georgia.”

For the first time, you felt slightly bad for keeping up the lie. Noir seemed like a decent guy so far. You clinked your iced tea with his beer.

“Well, Nowhere, it’s nice to find a kindred spirit,” you said.

You two drank for a bit in a comfortable silence, until he turned to you with curiosity in his dark brown eyes as he took you in. 

“So, what made you want to join Payback? The pay, or the free shit?” he asked.

You quirked a smile. You decided to give him the easiest answer he’d believe.

“Well, the free shit is a big perk. But…as vapid as it sounds, I wanted to get out of the background, make a name for myself,” you said. Noir nodded.

“Believe me, I get it. Around here, it can be hard to stand out,” he said. His brows knitted together while he stared hard at the table. You watched him, wondering what he meant.

After a beat, he perked up and met your gaze. “You know, I’ve been wanting to pitch a movie idea to Arthur.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, just trying to…you know, find the right words.”

Your expression eased, and you crossed your arms and turned towards him.

“Okay, let’s go then,” you said, waving at him in a bring it on gesture.

Noir’s brows popped up. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, why not?” you said. “Give me your best elevator pitch.”

Black Noir stood up from the table, nearly knocking over his empty beer bottle as he went. You grabbed it so it wouldn’t tip over. You were amused by his slightly flustered state. He set his hands on his hips and couldn’t quite meet your eyes when he started speaking.

“So, I’m thinking it could be like 48 Hours meets Trading Places. Except instead of a wise-cracking criminal or a guy down on his luck, I’m like, a wise-cracking ninja.”

“But ninjas don’t typically talk, do they?” you said. Clearly this guy had a thing for Eddie Murphy. “Aren’t they supposed to be stealthy?”

Noir raised a finger. “Okay, yes, but it’s a comedy. So that’s the ironic part, in a funny way.”

“So you’ll make witty quips before you kill your targets?” you said, holding in a laugh. You brandished an invisible sword. “‘You’re gonna need a new carpet.’ Fshh.”

You mimed a cutting motion, then blood spraying from your neck as you made some mock death throes. Noir stared at you blandly. You bit your lip.

And you were the first one to break with a laugh. The sound was infectious enough to break him too though. Noir couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle along with you.

You were almost too distracted to hear a pair of heavy boots, and sense the male presence at the door. You turned at the flash of green in the corner of your eye.

Of course, the cast wouldn’t be complete without Soldier Boy. Or Ben, as he’d insisted you call him.

His gaze roamed the room with feigned disinterest, but you could tell when he looked over at you and Noir that he wasn’t pleased. He clung to stoicism as he approached your table with his usual gait: calm, controlled, and arrogant.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked with a raise of his brow. “Could hear you all the way down the hall.”

“Just working on a pitch for Noir’s new movie,” you said, though the man in question gave you a hard stare. One that warned you to stop talking.

“Noir’s new movie?” Ben said, with a curl of his lip. He turned to the other man. “Trying to compete with Red Thunder before it’s even out in the box office? That’s not very good form.”

“No, no. Of course not,” said Noir. “Just…throwing some ideas around.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard. Some kind of samurai bullshit,” Ben said dryly. His green-eyed gaze was sharp, however. “Why don’t you stop wasting people’s time on tragic fucking ideas, and find something actually fucking useful to do.”

You watched carefully between the two men. Was there some kind of bad blood here?

Noir’s lips pursed, but despite the spark of anger in his eyes, he kept it all inside when he lowered them. He got up from the table and left without another word, putting on his helmet as he went.

Ben shook his head and drew closer to you. You frowned up at him as you stood and crossed your arms below your breasts.

“Well, that wasn’t very kind,” you remarked.

“This is the real world, sweetheart. He still needs to learn his place on this team,” Ben replied. But then, his charm was back. His face eased into a smile. “I’m glad I found you. It’s time I made good on my promise.”

You tilted your head. “What promise?”

“To take you out,” he said. “Give you a little tour of the city.”

After that little display, you had even less interest to spend any more time with this man than absolutely necessary…

Remember the plan, you reluctantly reminded yourself.

“Come on,” he prodded, extending a hand out to you. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Releasing a breath, you uncrossed your arms and slipped your hand into his.

“Okay. I would appreciate you showing me around,” you said, giving him a smile with some feminine charm of your own.

His lips curved into a grin. He raised your hand up to his lips, and despite yourself, his stubble ignited small tingles across your skin.

“Meet me downstairs in half an hour,” he said.

After taking the time to change out of your supe suit and into something dressier, reapplying your makeup and fixing up your hair, you met Ben downstairs out front. He was waiting for you there on a motorcycle, of all things.

“Really?” you asked, giving the vehicle a dubious look. “I thought you’d be a limo kind of guy.”

“Oh, I am. But today we need speed if we’re going to cover the whole city,” he said with a grin. He revved the engine, and it let out a loud, rumbling sound. It looked like a death trap.  

“I don’t know, Ben,” you said, for the first time using his name. You were actually nervous enough to show it.

He chuckled and motioned you over. Reluctantly, you went to him. His hand smoothed down your arm and held your elbow. He peered into your eyes.

“You think I’m going to let you fall on my watch?” he said. 

You held his gaze. Eventually, you bit your lower lip, and you accepted his offer of a helmet (even though he was going without one), then his helping hand to climb onto the motorcycle behind him. You tentatively held onto his waist.

“That ain’t gonna cut it, baby doll,” he said. He grabbed your hands and tugged you closer, until your arms wrapped around his middle. You made a small sound of surprise, feeling the solidness of his frame. You had a feeling he was grinning.

“All right, hold on,” he warned, revving the engine once again.

Your teeth clenched with dread. “Please, go slooow—ahhh!”

Ben peeled out of the curved landing in front of Vought Tower with a screech of tires. You gripped onto his jacket like a lifeline and pressed yourself to his back as closely as you could—something you were sure was his intention.

You sensed his amusement, though he at least had the decency not to laugh at you. He merged onto the street and zipped through the layers traffic, heading towards the center of the city.

Ben didn’t just show you the city. He showed you his world.

He first took you to Top of the Rock at Rockefeller Center. Instead of the normal group tour to the observational deck, he had a short chat with management that had them letting you two up to an even higher level, into an exclusive bar. It was apparently so high up that only twenty people could be inside at a time.

You two enjoyed a couple of drinks along with the amazing view of the city, and of Empire State across the way.

“You don’t get views like this in Indiana, do you?” Ben asked.

You nodded indulgently. “You do not.”

Never mind that you had never even been to Indiana. Yet, you had also never seen the city like this either.

“Thank you for taking me out like this,” you said. You reached out and softly touched his hand. You met his eyes with a subtle smile. “I didn’t know what to expect when I got here, but you’ve been really nice to me. Makes me think I can actually belong here.”

He seemed pleased as he sipped his drink, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“What can I say? I’m a nice guy,” he said.

You smiled, affecting demure as you ducked your head. It was an act you’d long ago perfected. Men tended to underestimate you, and you always used that to your advantage.

From there, he took you to clubs you’d never even knew existed, then to a restaurant so old, it still had a dress code. (And it was the best surf and turf you’d ever had in your life.)

When you got to Times Square, however, you were delayed practically an hour by all the fans who wanted Soldier Boy’s autograph. Once the first couple of young women recognized him, even out of his suit, it was all downhill as more and more people got excited by the world’s most famous superhero.

You stood off to the side, watching him be flirtatious to women of all ages, ruffling kids’ hair, and shaking hands with men, and even veterans who thanked him for his service.

You signed a couple of autographs and took some pictures with people yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be recognized as much. You had to be content with waiting for Ben off to the side. Though admittedly, you were getting bored and more than a little annoyed that he was taking so long.

He seemed to realize it when he finally looked your way.

“Hey, Sirena!” he called out to you by your supe name, drawing your attention in front of a few of his fans. He waved you over, and even introduced you to the small crowd still gathered around him. He set a hand on your lower back.

“I’m sure you all know about Sirena, the newest member of our team,” he said. You looked up at him with some measure of gratefulness. Maybe this part of the day was working in your favor even more than you’d thought.

You intentionally leaned closer to him, laying a semi-innocent hand on his arm as you smiled at the others.

“I’m taking some time to show her around,” he continued, glancing down at you. “She’s from a small town, so this city can be pretty daunting. But it’s my home. My favorite place in the world. Especially because I get to see all of you.”

He swept a hand out towards the crowd, and they ate it up with cheers, clapping, and some flirtatious whistling. He shot a wink and a raised finger at that one.

“If you’ll excuse us,” he said, with one last parting hand at the people. He ushered you back onto the motorcycle, and off you went.

He was trying his damndest.

He wore that fake, debonair charm like a second skin as he got you a private tour of the Met, and treated you to rich food and expensive wine. He was showing off his wealth, his fame, and giving you the “best” of him.

However, you had already seen glimpses of the true man underneath the gaudy show. And it was ugly, with an edge of darkness.

You had that thought in the back of your mind, even while you two sat side by side on a ledge. He’d brought you to a spot near the Hudson River, close to an overpass. It wasn’t an area meant for parking (according to the No Parking sign), but he didn’t seem to care.

Neither did you, really. The view was too beautiful, with the large orange sun halfway sunk below the water. It cast shades of yellow and red and purple across the sky, even over the dark waters.   

Ben was working on his third hotdog. You were licking your way around a scoop of cookies and cream ice cream on a waffle cone, letting the end of it swirl off your tongue. You resisted a smile, feeling the warmth of his gaze on the side of your face.

“So tell me,” he said, after he finished off his snack. He crumpled his napkin and tossed it somewhere behind him. “I heard you were making a name for yourself as a singer. What made you want to join Payback?”

He was giving you a little too much credit. You’d been making your money by being a background singer for various artists, but your last big break going on Whitney Houston’s latest tour was what finally put you on Vought’s map.

You considered his question with a tilt of your head. Black Noir had asked you the same thing, more or less. You’d given him an easy, predictable answer. With Ben, you edged closer to the truth...or part of it, anyway.   

“I don’t just want people to know who I am,” you said. “I want to be remembered for something good. I want to prove it to my family too, that I can do it. …Is that naïve?”

Ben hummed in understanding, though he shot you a certain look.

“Not if you play your cards right,” he said. 

His leading tone didn’t surprise you. You slid him a smile. 

“And how should I do that?” you asked. You turned to him, setting your finished cone aside. Ben took the opportunity to reach out and draw a line down your cheek with his thumb. He wiped a small smear of chocolate from the corner of your mouth. 

He smirked. “By sticking close to me, baby doll.”

You had to admit, his proximity was stirring you more than you liked. He was devastatingly handsome, and he knew it too. With his face inching so close to yours, it was hard for you to remember the things this man had said about you to Arthur, how he clearly didn’t give a fuck about Countess, and even what a dick he'd been to Black Noir.

Not to mention, how he acted all the time, as if the whole world was his.

Just as his lips neared yours, you leaned back. Your eyes met his knowingly.

“You already have someone close to you,” you pointed out. “What about Countess?”

Ben stilled. He sighed, but he didn’t let go of your cheek. He traced your jawline with the sensuous promise of a practiced hand. It made your breath difficult in your lungs, rising into your throat.

“Ah, Donna,” he shook his head. “We’ve been on the rocks for a while now.”

I’m sure, you thought wryly.

“What you and I have, right here, right now,” he said, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your cheek. “It’s special. The moment I saw you, a pure connection.”

Your brows furrowed. Those words triggered some kind of familiarity in you. A pure connection…

Wait, isn’t that a line from one of his movies? you thought. Oh yeah, A Gentleman’s Promise. 1949.

You had to bite your lip to stifle your laughter. This man did not just quote himself.

Ben took your reaction for a different kind of inner conflict, as he continued pressing tantalizing kisses down your neck. You cleared your throat a little, fighting a sigh of pleasure.

Stick to the plan, you thought.

Because he was right. The fastest way for you to get what you wanted was to be close to him, to use his status to your advantage. Timing was everything, however.  

You slipped your hands between you two and pressed gently, but firm against his chest.

“Ben,” you implored.

You were grateful that he actually stopped. His lips stilled against your skin, and he pulled away with a frown.

“What?” he said.

You looked up at him through your lashes, before you leaned in, stopping just shy of his lips.

“Maybe I’ll consider your offer when there’s a real place for me by your side,” you said with a smile. Then you backed off.

You gathered yourself and stood, coyly sauntering back to the motorcycle. You’d wait for him there.

Ben turned to watch you go, unwilling to admit he was both equally aroused and irritated. His jaw clenched, then eased.

After a moment, he joined you and drove you back to the Tower in silence. All the while, he couldn’t stop thinking. About your lips, your eyes, your voice, your soft body, your smile, and worst of all, the way you’d denied him. For fuck’s sake, you’d given him an ultimatum.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had that kind of audacity, let alone a woman. He wouldn’t let show, or even admit to himself, how much it affected him. But the same thought kept turning through his mind as the streets of New York passed by in a blur.

Just who the fuck does she think she is?

AN: 😅 Lol Ben's got his work cut out for him. Think he'll be able to figure out her game?

Next Time:

“What’s in it for me then?” he asked, crossing his arms.

You blinked your eyes wider. Really?

“I doubt whatever you’re thinking, Soldier,” you said, a little more snidely than you meant to.

Ben's cocky smile said it all.

Your lips pursed in exasperation. You hadn’t thought you would have to bargain to get him to be nice to a kid. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. Clearly you’ve had a long day, so I’ll just get out of your way,” you said, raising your hands in surrender. You turned to leave.

“All right, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he said.

You paused at the door, tossing him an annoyed look over your shoulder.

His smile deepened. “I’ll do it.”

His steps were measured as he approached you. You turned back to face him, albeit warily. As he seemed to like doing, he gently grasped your chin between his fingers.

“I’ll do it for a kiss,” he said.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

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[gd-dollopole]

We have so many things in common, we were actually separated at birth and were supposed to conquer the world with Merthur gay shit. It’s what will actually bring world peace, ✨the mediaeval, British homosexuals✨

Me, the entire day: 😒😐😪🙄

Me, when Merthur: ☺️🥰🫠✨

Also, consider this:

Arthur, the entire day: 😒😐😪🙄

Arthur, whenever he sees Merlin: ☺️🥰🫠✨

[relativelydimensional]

bestie what are some of your merthur fic recs

Omg who me? stooppp <3

Okay so I used to read a LOT of merthur fics back around 2011-2013 and have only recently hopped back on the bandwagon so this will be a mix of some oldies i've revisited and some newer fics that have made me insane :))))

0. this one goes without saying but The Student Prince is seriously one of the best fics in any fandom i've ever read to this day. I relisten to the podfic every single year and it SLAPS every time. If you haven't listened/read recently this is obviously my #1 rec hahahha

Okay onto some actual recs

1. Tired by spqr

King Arthur gets enchanted and keeps having dreams about his court sorcerer merlin :))))) He obviously doesn't say this to Merlin, but Merlin notices he's not been sleeping and Arthur comes clean about having 'nightmares.' When Merlin tries to figure out a counterspell, he accidentally casts it on himself and ohh nooo they're both having sexy dreams about each other but also have to act normal in real life ITS SO YUM. This fic was surprisingly soft, like yes they are having some full on dreams but also the bits that made me extra insane were just the little soft moments between non-dream merthur 🥺

This was a school holidays read and i remember reading this in the staff room of the elementary school i was working at trying so hard not to SCREAM. At one point i had to go on a spirited walk around the building just to get my energy out because it was JUICY.

If you like: canon era fics, court sorcerer merlin, the intimacy of domesticity, arthur with a beard and merthur being so in love but also fucking clueless about it this the fic for you <3

2. But It's a Good Refrain by lady_ragnell

Merlin runs a relationship advice/matchmaking service radio show and Arthur's ex calls in and rips into him on air. Arthur calls in to defend himself and he and Merlin butt heads. An oldie but such a goodie. I love this one because the characterisation feels very natural. Plus i loooove arthur POV fics. Merthur are so sweet in this one and i love love love the dynamic of their respective friendship groups merging. It also features the fandom favourite m/f crack ship that is elena and gwaine which im always here for.

If you like: silly modern AU friend group nonsense, Arthur POV fics, snarky Morgana, and a fic writer who understands the sheer power merlin emrys' 🥺 face would have over not only Arthur but literally ANYONE who looks at him, this is the fic for you.

3. Second Chances by DragonDucks

This is a canondivergence/fix-it fic set immediately after Arthur dies in 5x13. In this version Arthur tells Merlin he loves him with his dying breath and Merlin's magic sort of implodes sending him back in time to 1x1. So it's like sad s5 Merlin getting a second chance to save Arthur in the body of tiny baby s1 merlin.

I'm gonna be honest i'm still reading this one but it has me kicking and screaming!!!! Most of the dialogue is repurposed from the show which makes it extra juicy to me and its just delicious i love it so much. The POV switches between S5 mourning merlin and S1 gay panic arthur and its soooooo good i'm loving it so far. Some of the side characterisation is a little weird but Merthur are PERFECT. It NAILS that yummy introverted Arthur and fond Merlin characterisation.

If you like: canon era fix it fics, time travel, Arthur pendragon falling in love with merlin bit by bit and actually having space and time to grow as a person, and merlin emrys being like no everyone shut up about my destiny i just wanna have a good time with my boyfriend, this is the fic for you.

4. All is Semblative by Whitefox

I just fucking love crossdressing fics okay 😇. This is cinderella meets Merthur. Uther is throwing a ball to find Arthur a bride and servants aren't allowed. Out of spite (and, lets be real, also jealousy) Merlin tries to disguise himself to sneak in and ends up accidentally turning himself into a princess. Arthur hits it off with a weird but beautiful mystery princess who turns out to be his manservant he's been in love with this whole time. Simples.

If you like: Prince Arthur knowing about merlin's magic and being cool with it, fairytale AUs, accidental genderbending (but still canonically mlm merthur), and arthur pendragon singlehandedly embodying demisexual panic this is the fic for you.

5/6. As Long As We Have We AND No Matter How Far Away You Roam by lady_ragnell

Lady Ragnell again because I looove the way they do modern day Arthur. and i've been going through their stuff. These are both super cute christmas fics (I know its a little early but I couldn't help myself). In the first one, Uther has just died (rip uther you will not be missed) and Arthur accidentally collects lonely friends to spend christmas with him in the empty house. At the same time he befriends Merlin, the owner of his local bookstore, and merlin brings his own group of strays to Arthur's christmas...and obviously everyone gets along super well and merthur fall in love. The second one is a fake dating. T get his parents off his back, Arthur lies to Uther and Igraine that he and merlin have been together for years and Merlin (plus his mum and his sister Freya) has to play along one christmas..and obviously everyone gets along....and obviously everyone gets along super well and merthur fall in love.

If you like: found family, cute christmas fics and fluffy merthur these fics are the ones for you!

Also pls if anyone has any canon era secret dating merthur fics i beg of you please send them my way 🥺

[jokeringcutio]

Helloooo I have a Halloween request for Arthur Fleck x female reader

I was thinking it could take place on Halloween while he's working for Ha Has, so he's walking home in his clown costume not realizing it's Halloween until he's passing a house/apartment party and gets invited inside by someone assuming he's their friend who also dressed as a clown. Maybe he goes along with it because he's never been to a party he wasn't performing at, but doesn't know how to act. Maybe the host pulls him to introduce to the reader and he has to come clean that he's not the guy everyone thinks he is. And she's just really sweet relieved because she didn't like the guy she thought he was, and tells him how she's never dated so people keep trying to set her up.

So they bond at the party and meet up for coffee or something later. Bonus points if they lose their virginity to each other and fall in love.

Sorry if that's too long or not specific enough. I just like a sweet, supportive, Disney princess type girl that brings out the best in Arthur and vice versa 💞

Arthur Fleck x Reader - Sweet Halloween (contains smut)

AN: Follow me for more Halloween Reader Inserts. More stories will follow this month.

Fandom: Joker 2019 Pairing: Arthur Fleck (as Carnival) x Reader Rating: Explicit Summary: You mistake him for somebody else, but that might be the best thing that happened to the both of you, for you end up losing your virginity to each other.

Warnings: Sexual content, Virginity/First Time.

1.

Those downtrodden streets with their faded yellow lights that made everything seem grey and bleak were familiar to Arthur. As he walked his usual route home, hands buried deep inside of his pockets, clown shoes kicking dirt and thrown-away wrappers and cans. He stared at the potholed pavement. There seemed to be more of a buzz around him, more noises. But he gave it no thought.

His Carnival costume hung loosely around him, his body too thin and too slender. He hadn’t had a good meal for the past God-knows how many weeks, and the lack of food was starting to have its effect on him. Arthur had grown easily tired and vexed and felt as if his hunger had left him completely. And so he kept his eyes pointed at the street, careful where to place his feet in case he might trip over the too-big shoes he had been too tired to swap for his ordinary pair. He would do it at home, he figured. He’d wash off the makeup there.

Being completely focused on the ground in front of his feet, he didn’t notice how he approached a house with an open door. A few young people stood on the porch, observing him as he neared. He felt their gazes, however, and made himself smaller than he was. His shoulders up high, hands even deeper inside his pockets and turned into fists – invisibly to their eyes. He tried not to draw too much attention to himself, eager to pass by without being picked on, laughed at, or even worse – beaten. He knew he was an easy target like this. And though the people he passed usually didn’t care, sometimes they would.

“Ah, there you are.” Before he had time to react, a gentle hand laid firmly upon his arm and he was ushered between the youngsters, pushed passed them, and into the house. It all happened so swiftly, that he had no idea how to react.

Soft hands pushed the small of his back, urging him into a hallway where they paused. Low thumps of music came from down the hall. There definitely was a party going on here. He tried to turn around and protest, but everything was happening way too fast.

“Josh, you can find Emma in the kitchen. She’s busy prepping the punch,” Arthur heard a female voice say from behind. It was a pleasant voice. One that sent sparks of warmth down his tummy.

He slowly turned around to face you, prepared for anything but you. A princess in every sense of the word. From your voice to your looks. You were even dressed in one of the prettiest dresses he had ever seen. Surely, if you were to come to work for Ha-Ha’s you’d be paid maximum wages. You’d have a booking every day. You-

You must be mistaken, he realized crestfallen as he watched you breathlessly. His shoulders slumped, his green eyes upon you. You didn’t want him here. You expected someone else. Some kind of Josh. What should he do? What should he do next?

There was a warm smile on your face. “Come on, let’s get going. I know you came just to see her, and I promise, no one is going to come in between the two of you tonight. This house got more than enough rooms for a bit of privacy.” You smiled at him and, once again, placed your warm hands upon him, pushing against his belly, probably to usher him in the direction of the kitchen. Then your eyes turned wide. Had you spotted he wasn’t Josh?

“Oh, gosh,” you gasped. “You really need to get some food in you. There’s some great apple and cinnamon pumpkin-shaped pies.”

So you hadn’t realized your mix-up, he thought. He followed your gaze as your eyes slid down his form. What must you be thinking of him, he wondered? This shabby clown, tired after a long day’s work. Your eyes darted lower and he followed your gaze. “Your shoes are so big. How can you walk without tripping?” The words spilled from your lips, melodious to his ears. Then your eyes sought his again. But instead of the judgment he had expected, your eyes sparked with joy and admiration. “They are amazing,” you said, warming his heart once more.

He blinked at you, confused. “I- I don’t think,” he started, voice too soft and being drowned out by the loud music that came down the hall. The realization came that you hadn’t heard him when you gave him a gentle pat on his shoulder and smiled.

“I know. Size matters! Well, you have an impressive girth,” you joked.

And then you were gone. The crowd had swallowed you, like a phantom. A ghost.

Arthur stood baffled. Had that just happened? As if in a dream, he glanced around him. The hallway was getting crowded as more people seemed to arrive at the party. He looked desperately but found no clue of you ever having been there. Had he entered the house himself? Had you been another delusion?

He leaned against a wall, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. Taking deep breaths, he tried to steady himself. Another delusion, he thought. Another dream vision.

But then, an unfamiliar girl came to stand next to him, dressed as a pirate in a very revealing short array. Her red bouncy curls danced around her when she reached up to pull him into a hug.

“Ah Josh, glad you could make it,” the girl said with a smile. Arthur could see how the lipstick on her lips cracked at the motion. “Come on over, there’s food and drinks waiting.”

Luckily, she let go when Arthur started to feel the hug was getting too suffocating, and then she gestured ahead, urging him to walk into the next room which appeared to be some kind of large hall, decorated as a ballroom. He felt the girl’s eyes upon him for a little longer, but when he glanced behind him she seemed to have turned away. He saw her at the far end of the hall. Not a vision then. But not the woman he had dreamed of either.

Carefully, Arthur, still dressed as Carnival the Clown, entered the festive hall. The chandeliers were adorned with bats and cobwebs. Tiny fake ghosts hung from the ceiling and pumpkins filled the corners, all with faces like clowns. He could not help but chuckle when he saw what a wonderful room he had walked into. Everywhere, people were dancing.

Had he held any hesitation, it vanished when he saw the pumpkin pies the princess of his dreams had told him about. They stood on a table in front of him, looking every bit as delicious as you had told. For once, he thought to himself, you deserve this. “Well,” he nasally said to himself. “I suppose one bite won’t do any harm. After all,” here he suppressed the upwelling laughter that threatened to leave his lips. “They invited me in.”

2.

The Halloween party was in full swing, the room bathed in a dim orange glow from the flickering jack-o'-lanterns lining the walls. Laughter and chatter filled the air as costumed guests mingled and danced. You expertly wove through the crowd, your body swaying to the haunting beats of the music. You were no stranger to dancing; it was an outlet that allowed you to escape the challenges of your life.

As you moved across the floor, a man dressed as a clown caught your eye. The colorful frills of his costume juxtaposed against the dark atmosphere of the party. You’d seen him before. At the time you had believed him to be Josh, that friend that Emma had invited because she wanted to date him. You knew better now. The real Josh had appeared half an hour later. It made you realize you’d invited a stranger into the house.

But this stranger, this man dressed as a clown… he was fetching. There was something about him that lured you in. Now that you knew he wasn’t Emma’s to claim, you became bolder, more daring. Moving closer to him, you deliberately started moving along with him, feeling the beat of the song resonate within you. When he noticed you, his eyes lit up like fireworks, surprise and delight radiating from his gaze.

The clown began to challenge you with his moves, his hips gyrating to the rhythm of the music. He had good moves, you noticed. Every gesture was graceful, like dancing came as natural to him as breathing. The rotating of his hips, while his eyes rested firmly upon you, was an invitation you accepted without hesitation. You danced closer, enticed by the mystery behind the painted face. His movements were fluid and surprisingly graceful, drawing you in even more.

As the song continued, you found yourselves dancing together, his arm snaking around your waist as he twirled you effortlessly. Your bodies pressed close, the heat emanating from him warming you as his scent – a mix of cologne and something uniquely his – intoxicated you. A sense of desire bubbled within you, fueled by the passion of the dance and the enigmatic connection between you two.

He twirled you around again and then pulled you in close, until your back was pressed against his front. You could feel his hot breath tickle your ear. His fingers splayed on your tummy, holding you like a lover’s embrace as you sensually pressed your hips against his. Your bodies fit together perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle, and you had to suppress a moan.

The sensation of your bodies colliding with each beat was overwhelming. The dance became a sensual exploration, your bodies speaking a language only the two of you understood. And when the song came to an end, you lamented the fact that Emma stood several feet away, beckoning you to help her bringing the snacks from the kitchen. You reluctantly pulled away, feeling the sudden absence of his warmth. "Sorry,” you whispered, unsure if he could hear you over the starting tunes of a new beat, “I need to go help a friend.”

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you saw the Clown’s lips twitch into a smile. You assumed he had heard you, and quickly turned away, unaware of how the clown doubled over as he watched you go, grabbing his stomach as he tried to bite back the laughter that threatened to spill from his lips. He failed though, and in an attempt to escape the judging gazes from those around him, he turned around and pushed his way through the crowd.

By the time you returned with the snacks, your eyes wandered to find your mysterious dancing clown, but found no trace of him. Crestfallen, you put the snacks down on the table and scanned the room once more. Your clown seemed to have gone. But the tingling sensation deep inside of you still lingered, reminding you of the dance you had just shared.

3.

Time slipped away, the evening deepening as laughter and chatter filled the air. You found yourself wandering outside to get some fresh air. The cool night breeze was a welcome respite from the heat of the party. You’d almost given up on finding him, almost convinced yourself that it didn’t matter, that this stranger you had met was someone you would never see again. But then, there he was.

Sitting on the porch and smoking, was the clown who had captivated you earlier. The sight of him stirred something within you – curiosity, desire, and an undeniable connection that you couldn't shake. You watched him for a moment, silently admiring his enchanting silhouette. Then you stepped closer to him.

"Hey," you called out softly, drawing his attention. “Are you alone?”

His eyes widened in surprise, the cigarette between his fingers momentarily forgotten. As he looked up at you, you caught sight of his vibrantly green eyes and your heart skipped a beat. So beautiful, you thought. You felt your cheeks flush.

"You're a really good dancer," you quickly said, smiling warmly at him.

The man seemed to hesitate, staring at you like a deer caught in headlights, but he quickly recomposed himself. His shoulders relaxed again. "Oh, uh, thank you." He seemed almost embarrassed by the compliment, his cheeks flushing beneath the white face paint.

"Mind if I sit with you?" you asked, gesturing to the empty spot beside him before bunching up your skirt. If you showed him a little leg, well, that wasn’t entirely an accident. You could tell he had seen it, that he must have spotted your bare legs underneath your skirts, perhaps even the outline of your panties, for his cheeks flushed and he quickly glanced away. But you’d seen his pupils dilate.

"Of course not," he replied, snuffing out the cigarette. For a moment he stared ahead while you settled down onto the wooden steps. The warmth of his body radiated through the thin fabric of your costume, sending shivers down your spine.

“I thought I'd dreamed you up." His words caught you by surprise and you stared at him with eyes open wide. When he finally turned to lock gazes with you, his lips carried a shy smile. Almost as if he was afraid to admit it.

“Not a dream,” you assured him. "Definitely real."

For a moment, his smile broadened, an imitation of your own, and you were lost in his eyes. Their depths, their vibrancy… This man made you feel warm and alive.

But then his smile faded like snow in the sun, and he tore his eyes away from yours. Shyly, he looked down at his hands.  A deep frown appeared on his face, twisting his features. "I'm sorry,” he said, voice hardly more than a low mumble. “I’d better go.”

He shifted, jumping up to his feet without a warning, but you grasped him by the sleeve, preventing him from stepping away. He turned to look at you, surprise visible on his face.

“Why would you leave now?” you asked, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. Didn’t he feel the same? You could swear he did. You’d seen it in his eyes, how the two of you had been lost in each other’s gaze.

The clown hesitated. You could see the thoughts running wildly inside his head, the deep frown when he licked his lips before he shyly admitted, “Because I am not who you want?”

“Nobody said that,” you smiled, the grasp on his sleeve diminishing until your hand just laid gently upon his arm. There was no pressure there. If he still wanted to leave, he could.

“But I,” his voice had turned nasal, like a whine. Whatever was going through that pretty head of his was making him worried. “I know you mistook me for a friend of yours," he finally admitted, a frown still on his features.

You shook your head and smiled, your hand slipping from his arm for a moment. But he did not run away. Instead, he remained rooted to the spot, standing there, looking down at you with eyes full of uncertainty. It was obvious he wanted to stay. And you did not want him to go.

Your hand reached out once more to gently touch his arm. "I want you to stay," you whispered.

In the dim light of the Halloween-lights, you could see how his eyes widened in surprise. You felt his body grow slack underneath your hand. "All right.”

Slowly, he sat down again. His hip slotted against yours, the warmth instantly returned, making you breathe a sigh of relief. He was here again, where he needed to be.

“My name's Arthur, by the way," he hesitatingly said, as if he were shy to introduce himself to you.

"Nice to meet you, Arthur," you replied, your heart racing as you studied his face. Beneath the makeup, there was a vulnerability that drew you in. Your thoughts raced, emotions swirling as you tried to make sense of the magnetic pull between you two.

"The boy I confused you with, he is Emma’s new friend,” you confessed, your gaze drifting to the ground. "She’s always dating, never able to go without a boyfriend for long, so I hadn’t really seen him yet.”

Arthur remained silent, just watched you, his gaze enough to encourage you. “She keeps trying to set me up, but it never feels right," you quietly admitted, feeling how Arthur shifted by your side. He placed his hands in front of him, fingertips touching.

“Truth is, I've never had a boyfriend before," you continued, voice a soft whisper. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I've never even dated.”

Your eyes gently slid back to seek his. He was still looking at your face, his eyes desperately seeking yours. And when your gazes met, you could tell there was a quiet understanding in his. A deep warmth.

“How come,” he started, but had to pause to clear his throat. His voice was hoarse, filled with emotion. “How come no one ever claimed you as their own? Who wouldn’t want you?” he asked you, warming you up inside because that was a high compliment. Who wouldn’t want you? Who would? Then again, you shrugged and shook your head.

With a small smile, you looked up at him again. “It’s not fully up to them, is it?” you said, a small smile curling your lips. It took him a moment to understand what you were saying, but then his lips curled into a smile as well, the red of his makeup curling upward even more.

“You didn’t want any of them,” he concluded, and you let out a sigh of relief that he caught your meaning.

“Never really felt a click with any of them,” you admitted. Your eyes drifted down to his hands. Carefully, you sought out his hand with your own, placing your palm on top of his. He allowed you to touch him, even waited till you liked up again before he flashed you another smile. Emboldened by his reaction, you gently squeezed his hand.

"I meant what I said earlier on,” you started, shyly but suggestive. “Maybe we could, uh, find some privacy inside?" Your voice was playful, teasing. "There are plenty of rooms."

Arthur's eyes sparked with mischief as he met your boldness head-on. "I'd like that." He returned the squeeze with his hand, then carefully rose, holding your hand in his own. He waited for you to lead the way, an unspoken invitation that sent a thrill through you. With your heart pounding, you led him back into the house, your warm hands still touching. You could hear his rapid breathing and realized he was excited too.

Upon entering one of the unoccupied rooms, you closed the door behind you and locked it, your heart pounding with anticipation. The room was clean enough, pleasant enough for sure. A cream-colored bed, ordinary and plain, invited you to take this further. If Arthur hadn’t wanted to go this far, he would not have followed you in, would he? And so you turned to face Arthur, who stood there, hesitantly shifting his weight from one foot to another.

"Go on," you urged gently, "take off your costume."

He looked at you oddly, as if you had said something preposterous, but then slowly started to unbutton his waistcoat. “You want to do more than just talk,” he murmured, and you blinked at him. For a moment he had you confused.

“I mean,” you started, suddenly feeling insecure. Where you going too fast for him? Was this the right thing to do? “Only if you…”

A deep groan tore from Arthur’s lips, interrupting you before you could finish. The waistcoat slid down his shoulders and without hesitation, he started to unbutton his fly. “You think I’d say no?” his voice was husky and low, thick with arousal. Hearing it sent a spark of lust deep down your core, making your pussy slick and moist at the sound of him.

“Oh no, my beauty,” Arthur continued, the words drawn and a low hum. His hand revealed his aching cock, firmly stroking up and down the hardened flesh. “No, pretty girl, I am going to make you all mine.”

Your mouth had turned dry at the sight of him. So eager. So wanting. “You’re beautiful,” the words spilled from your lips, earning you a groan as Arthur squeezed his cock hard.

“Don’t lie to me, princess. I am not much to look at,” he grunted, moving his hand up and down his shaft. His eyes never left your frame though, silently undressing you with his gaze. “Too thin, too meager. Not much of a man at all.”

“I disagree,” you said without giving it a moment’s thought. Your hands moved up your sides, slowly peeling the dress from your body, revealing all that you had hidden beneath it. His eyes lit up at the sight of your skin, then darkened with sinful desire. "You're more handsome than you give yourself credit for, Arthur."

He blushed at your compliments, his cheeks warming beneath the fading clown makeup. Despite his thin frame, you were drawn to him, captivated by the vulnerability in his eyes. The dress pooled at your feet, and then you stood there in just your underwear. His eyes roved over you, eager to take you all in. You loved it, loved the way his eyes took you in as if he wanted to remember all of you.

"Come here," you whispered, beckoning him closer. And when he was within reach, you cradled his face in your hands, looking deeply into his eyes before pressing a sweet, lingering kiss upon his lips, uncaring of the makeup that would surely smudge your own.

When you broke apart to catch your breath, the words that escaped you were a whisper.

"I want you to be my first, Arthur."

Something seemed to shift within him then, as if your words had unlocked a hidden desire. His restraint vanished, replaced by a hungry passion that matched your own. Arthur's hands found their way to your back, pulling you closer as he returned your kisses, tracing the contours of your body.

The two of you moved together as if you were dancing again. His body fit perfectly against yours, his hands led the way. You didn’t even notice that he had led you toward the bed until you felt the back of your knees bump against the mattress. His wig cap tumbled off his head, revealing brown curls underneath. It suited him, you thought. He was gorgeous.

Another kiss as his lips met yours hungrily. His hands ran past your skin, fondling your breasts eagerly, squeezing a bit too hard but making you feel exceptionally good.

Breaking the kiss you were sharing, you murmured against his skin. "Be gentle with me."

His green eyes sparked as he lay you down on the bed. The world outside the room ceased to exist; all that mattered now was this intimate connection between you and Arthur. The way his hands ran past your body and his fingertips danced down your skin, the way his scent enveloped you entirely like an embrace, the way he sunk deep into your core, letting out a shuddering moan.

If there had been pain initially, it soon ebbed away at his gentleness. He allowed you time to adjust, panting heavily above you while his eyes sought out yours. When you felt he was able to move again you gave an encouraging nod. He followed your command without a pause, gently thrusting his hips, first shallowly but deeper and deeper as time and your body allowed.

There was an experimental thrust of his hips, followed by another moan from his lips. His eyes squeezed close and his face contorted in ecstasy. As he slowly started to pick up a pace, murmuring obscenities about how good this all was, you suddenly realized that this might be his first time as well. As your bodies entwined and he gently rocked inside of you, you arched your back, spreading your legs to give him a little more access to rock deeper inside.

Arthur bit his lip and grunted. Another thrust, this time firmer, bolder. He hit a delicious spot deep inside and your walls fluttered around him as a result. It tore another deep moan from him. Again.

“There,” you pleadingly said, “there.” He obliged, seeking the right angle and thrusting inside of you with deep strokes.

“Is that good, princess?” You heard his low voice rasp. He sounded nearly dangerous now, voice drenched with lust. “Do you like my cock deep inside your pretty little cunt?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, hardly able to speak as pleasure overtook your body. Your pussy clenched down hard on his cock, gripping him like a vice, making him grit his teeth and groan.

“Hmm, too tight, princess,” the low murmur sounded near your ear. He was bent over you, rutting into you like a frenzied animal. You loved this wild side of him, his forceful thrusts. They helped sent you over the edge.

The intensity of your shared passion was overwhelming, yet you both navigated your newfound intimacy with care and tenderness. Your breaths mingled, hearts racing in unison as you reached the peak of your shared experience, an exhilarating crescendo that left you both breathless.

Exhausted and content, you held each other close, your body pressed against Arthur's as he cradled you in his arms. As the adrenaline subsided, you looked into each other's eyes, warmth and affection radiating between you.

"Was this…your first time too?" You gently ran a knuckle past his cheek, caressing him as you softly whispered your question.

His green eyes held yours even as he nodded, barely able to speak as he muttered, "Yes...” A pause, a bob of his throat as he swallowed. And then an admission. “I love you so much."

He buried his face against your shoulder, cradling you close to his chest. His brown curls brushed past the skin of your jaw. A smile formed on your lips as you basked in the feeling of being held in the afterglow. It felt good to be held by this man. It felt good to have been pleasured by him and to know you’d given him pleasure in turn.

You knew that something truly special had just transpired, a moment of beautiful vulnerability shared between two souls in a world where such tenderness was all too rare.

“Happy Halloween,” you whispered.

~ Fin ~

AN: Hope you enjoyed it :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all

[satureja13]

Jack's Therapy Game (From the beginning: -> here)

After Jack cared for the horses and Lou prepared the room for Jack, they went over to the Pub. Jack didn't get kicked out like Vlad and no one asked about his 'status'.

Jack: "About the money for the room and stuff... I'll get a job right tomorrow morning. I heard the sculptor is hiring." Lou: "Oh no, no one works for the sculptor." Jack: "I don't have problems to take my shirt off." Lou: "It's not this. We don't talk about it. Don't you worry, you can help me at the shop."

Lou noticed Jack's rash. Lou: "Isn't this painful? I've heard about this. Did your Alpha die? If you don't get this treated you might die too, you know that, don't you?" Jack: "No, he didn't die - it's uhm... complicated and yes..." Now that he thinks about it, it doesn't hurt! He didn't even pay attention since he was so stressed about being locked up. But as far as he remembers, it didn't hurt since he entered the game!

Jack: "I'm fine :3 So, are these your horses?" Lou: "No, Lunatic belongs to no one but he kind of lives here and Val is the horse of my best friend from the neighboring village. But he's here all the time because they are deeply in love." Jack: "Is that so." Does that mean this friend is NPC Jeb? Well, since Ji Ho and some of their other friends are also here as NPCs, it would make sense. Jack hopes he can talk to one of them soon to see how 'real' their NPC versions are. Tiny Can maybe does this so they feel comfortable in their therapy.

Even the Queen and the Prince Caleb are here tonight. And he's seen NPC Leander, Barfolomew and: Greg -.- But the Queen and Greg don't sit together. Like at the Arena. That's good news! Jack: "Is the Queen married?" Lou: "No. And she's only the Queen here until the Prince gets married to Princess Jihovere." Princess Jihovere? Caleb and Ji Ho will get married here? OMG! And the Queen will not stay the Queen here so his chances to hit on her just increased! (Omg Jack!) ('Jihovere' refers to 'Guinevere', the beloved wife of King Arthur.)

Jack and Lou had a good time at the pub and Jack has a good feeling about this therapy. For once he can try to act like a 'more normal' person in this world and see what he could achieve. No one here knows about his disorders and hardships. And here he can experience what his life could be if he overcame/worked on some of them. He's fully aware that he can't be 'healed' and he knows that his friends love him and worry about him and try to protect him. But he also gets the feeling that this keeps him from prospering. He'll talk about this with the others when he's back. But he's going to stay a little longer because he really likes Lou and they have so much fun together. And the pain is gone. Jack hadn't felt this good for a very long time.

'Everybody here is out of sight They don't bark, and they don't bite They keep things loose, they keep 'em tight Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight

Dancin' in the moonlight Everybody's feelin' warm and bright It's such a fine and natural sight Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight

We like our fun and we never fight You can't dance and stay uptight It's a supernatural delight Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight'

Dancing in the Moonlight - Thin Lizzy

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest Current Chapter: 🕹️ 'The One' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[themultifandomgal]

Shelby Sister- Jealous

This was a request. Enjoy!

Birth

From the day YN arrived on this earth all of the Shelby brothers were besotted with her. Not only is she the youngest of the Shelby's, but she is the youngest sister. However not all the Shelby's loved the littlest girl, Ada used to be the princess, the youngest girl. She used to get most of the attention, but now that's all on YN. Tommy in particular.

"Now why are we so upset eh?" Tommy asks bouncing the littlest Shelby in his arms while she’s screaming her little heart out. A 15 year old Ada watches the interaction with her arms crossed

"She's not gonna answer ya Tommy"

"I know that Ada”

“It’s not gonna stop her from making that noise either. Can you just get her to be quiet”

“What do you think I’m doing Ada? Why don’t you come here and hold her?”

“No chance. Just get her to shut up. I’m getting a headache” with that Ada storms off

“Just ignore her, she’s just upset that she’s no longer the baby sister” Tommy softly tells YN who’s finally setting down watching her yawn before falling asleep.

1 Year Old

At 1 years old YN has started to pull herself up, holding on to furniture, but has yet to start walking. The Shelbys are all sat in the living room, YN holding on to Johns arm while standing up. Ada walks passed rolling her eyes at her brothers interacting with YN, as Ada walks passed she bumps a little into YN causing her to fall on to her bottom. Her bottom lip is out in an instant and the tears start to fall. Before the whaling starts Tommy scoops up the little girl into his arms

“Ada be more carful” he scolds bouncing YN up and down

“It was an accident” Ada protests, but her brothers know better. Ada doesn’t just doesn’t like YN

“Whatever Ada” John scoffs

“Your ok aren’t you YN? yeah your ok” Tommy coos.

2 Years Old

Breakfast time has always been a little difficult with YN Shelby. She’s a fussy eater, and the only person who can get her to eat her food is Tommy. So he has her say on his knee handing her different foods off her plate

“Your feeding into this habit Tommy” Ada says sitting down at the table

“Your just jealous I never used to let you sit on my lap”

“Am not” Ada crosses her arms annoyed

“T-ey” YN says trying to say Tommy to get him to hand her her fork

“Yes sorry princess here you go”

“Princess” Ada scoffs

“Ada will you just stop. I thought you’d be over this by now. Your old enough to know YN isn’t going anywhere. Why do you dislike her so much? You were never like this with Finn”

“Because you act like she can do no wrong!” Ada yells

“She’s 2 for fuck sake!” Tommy yells back making YN jump since she’s never heard him shout while she’s around “hey it’s ok. Tommy wasn’t shouting at you”

“Ridiculous” Ada leaves the kitchen annoyed.

6 Years Old

When John, Arthur and Tommy went away to war, YN took it the hardest. She only knew that her brothers were going away. She didn’t understand that they couldn’t come home when she wanted causing a few tantrums. Now they’re home YN won’t leave Tommy alone annoying Ada even more

“Whens Tommy getting up?” YN asks her sister

“Dunno” Ada places some food down in front of YN

“But I’ve been awake for ages” YN whines

“Don’t I bloody know it” Ada mutters under her breath. Finally footsteps are heard and YN jumps out of her chair running to the stairs

“Tommy!” She shouts smiling

“Are you meant to be sat at the table?” Tommy asks raising an eyebrow. Quickly YN is back in her seat and eating her food. Tommy walks into the kitchen and sits next to his sister

“How do you manage to get her to listen. Never listened once while you were… ya know”

“Because I’ve got a bond with her. While you spent the last 6 years having a paddy you are no longer the baby”

“It’s always Tommy this Tommy that”

“If you spent some time with her you may be surprised” the whole time YN was listening to the conversation, but didn’t really understand why her brother was telling Ada to spend time with her.

Over the years Ada and YN grew closer, Ada still had times when she would be jealous of YN. Mainly because she could do no wrong in anyones eyes where as Ada could. YN may be closest to Tommy, but when she needed female advice she would go to Ada, which intern did make Ada feel wanted.

[hannibalzero]

What's your fav things or tropes to write about Charthur, Obikin, or BioShock in? (Sorry if my question is sucks 😔).

Oh darling, what wonderful question. Lol why would this question suck? It’s great!

I tend to like the same tropes across the board.

1. Omegaverse. Yes the heat cycles, knotting and dynamics are fun. But it also forces these very complex and stressed out characters to take a break, spoiled and loved by someone else.

- Arthur Morgan is a pillar of strength and determination. Heartbroken and lonely, If not hyper independent. In game you can see the stress and sickness eating at him.

- Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Jedi, a general, a master and upholds the code. He’s tired, stressed and lonely. He acts like he isn’t but he is.

- Jack has no family. Has made his way through Rapture alive with 13 little girls. Anyone he’s ever trusted backstabbed him until Mother goose that is. He is basking the love of being a father and loves his little girls. But a partner? That’s something.

Plus Omegaverse is really fun because there’s no set of rules. You can play with the lore, mix and match. I’m a sucker for world building.

2. Slice of life, who are these people when everything is going well? Who does dishes, laundry. what does datenights look at? The couples I write about live very hectic and stressful lives.

……maybe I’m just bad at writing conflict…….

Sometimes both!

3. Just being soft, in love. Yeah these pairings are like late 20s to mid 30s. Yet holding hands? First kisses? Them being shy and feeling silly. Idk it’s really cute.

4. Young love aus. What can I say? I’m a sap.

5. These very masculine characters, why not explore that side!

-Arthur Morgan in white and blue lace panties and corset. Ain’t he just pretty? Probably the best boost to his poor self image. Allowing time to be with kids, to draw and paint. Spoil his horses and snuggle Charles.

-Obi-Wan in lovely robes. Hanfu, Kimono and Hanbok. Obi tending to his plants, tea sets and jewelry. Tending to Luke and Leia, being the parent he never had.

-Jack has no choice, he has 13 daughters.

6. I errrr just love coming up with new aus. Like being tired and having ADHD and that magic hits like omg this is the best ever.

Examples include:

- wild at heart

- a world of our own.

-Jedi princess

-arrowheads and second chances.

7. Family life, it’s so much fun to write.

I think that’s it for now, character tropes and kinks will have to be in another ask!

[fandomwriterstuff]

Exist for Love (Chapter 1)

James Potter x Reader

Chapter Warnings: reader is a child in this but is going to age up very quickly in the coming chapters

Word Count: ~2,000

Chapter 2

Your childhood was what you would consider a lonely one. You’d only ever had one friend, and it wasn’t for lack of trying. You tried to be a very social and friendly little girl, but your playdates with others were limited in order to keep you safe. The children of your parents’ close family friends were to be the pool of children you could select from.

You gave your parents and servants quite a fright every time you ran outside the manor’s stony walls to peer through the gate at passerby, wanting to make friends with each and every one. You shouldn’t have felt lonely, though. The aforementioned close family friends had very many children, but to you it felt like slim pickings. 

There was, of course, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black (or so they called themselves), with several children around your age. There was Narcissa, a stoic and cold child. You always felt she’d been jealous of your status, even as young as you were. Then there was Bellatrix, a girl who gave you a sense of unease you could never shake. It was something about her unhinged smile and cruel treatment towards the servants. Then there were the mysterious brothers Regulus and Sirius, whom you saw very infrequently. Sirius was to be the head of the family at his coming of age, and Regulus was a very quiet and clever boy. You gathered though, after a bit of eavesdropping, that Sirius was a rather troubled child. 

Your parents were also very close with the Weasley family. There were three boys, and though Arthur was near your age, he was quite an odd one. Always wandering out into the world to spend time with the people of the kingdom. You were green with envy, of course. You’d only ever wished to leap over the gates surrounding your home and spend time with others. 

Last, but most certainly not least, were the Potter family. Euphemia and Fleamont were perhaps the most trusted of your parents’ friends. Their son James was your most cherished treasure. Though treasures were something you had so many of, James was unique and indispensable. 

From an early age you’d shown an interest in each other. You would most definitely say that James was your best friend. You spent what your parents considered an indecent amount of time together, but how could you not? Every moment with him felt like you were laying on soft grass, the sun kissing your cheeks, content. 

Though, you knew you couldn’t always continue on playing with James every day. You had very many responsibilities as the only child of your parents. They were unable to conceive again after you, and therefore you were the crown princess. With no other alternatives.

But you thought you would have more time with him than you would actually have. Because at age eleven, along with many of the other children you were ‘allowed’ to spend time with, he went to a special boarding school. 

“Why can’t I go?” You’d had this conversation before, but nothing had ever felt so unfair as this. Your peers were all going to boarding school, you were being separated from your Jamie, all the while you had to stay and be educated within the grounds. 

“You have a different set of skills you need to hone, your highness. Boarding school isn’t fun anyway,” your tutor was trying to placate you. He was a scholar from the Malfoy family. A wealthy noble family you didn’t much care for. 

“I don’t want to learn about politics and etiquette! I want to learn about the stars, maths, and philosophy!” You complained, and your tutor raised his eyebrows at you.

“You hate mathematics, I would know,” you pouted at his words and resisted the urge to run your fingers through your hair in frustration. Your lady-in-waiting would have your hide for ruining the updo she put together. And your mother would have it for acting childish. 

“But I am a child,” you’d told her one time, at which point your father scolded you for talking back to your mother.

And so, the year you turned eleven was the beginning of your blue period. Because you, like the great artists of the world all did, were experiencing a great deal of mourning and internal turmoil. You were facing nearly nine months without your best friend, with a short break where he would come back for the holidays. 

In those first few weeks you were inconsolable, you were lonely, and all you did was study and attend meals. Your bodyguard, a distant member of the Longbottom family (and a man thirty years your senior), was the only person who could cheer you up. Between etiquette, maths, and family history lessons, he would give you lessons of his own. It wasn’t something you thought your mother would be happy about, but Charles’ literal only job was to keep you safe. So, he gave you self-defense lessons. 

“You’re eleven now, just a wee thing really, so you can’t do much damage. What’s our number one rule?” He would ask you. 

“Flight, not fight.” You recited dutifully, before quickly spouting the part you’d forgotten: “And call for help!”

“And our second?”

“If I must fight, I will do so with the goal of being able to flee.”

“And if you are unable to flee?”

“Then I have to fight for my life, no matter what.”

“That’s good, princess. Now, today we’re going to work on conditioning. How many times can you run around the east wing?”

You thought for a moment, heart beating excitedly. 

“My record is eight, but I think I could do more!” Charles grinned at you.

“That’s a good start, princess. But I bet James could run around it twelve times,” you gasped at his bold statement. 

“He could not! I always beat him in running contests!” You were red in the face, the picture of indignant, when Charles leaned in close as if to whisper something secret.

“You don’t think he’s been… letting you win? Do you?” 

And so the autumn passed by. 

You felt as if you were a spy living a double life, learning pretty princess politics and language arts and filling out your schedule with planned events and lessons… And in between them learning how to defend yourself. It was thrilling, but it couldn’t compare to the deepening loneliness you felt without James near you. 

Your mother attempted to set you up to spend time with the younger generation of the Black family, but you knew they would be attending this magical boarding school in the next few years as well, so it wasn’t worth pursuing. 

When the holiday season started nearing, snow settling quietly on the roof and warm soups filling your belly, you began to feel nervous about Jamie returning. What if he had found new friends? Well of course he would have friends, but what if he’d forgotten about you? How would you cope? What would you do if by the time his summer break came ‘round you no longer had a single friend?

These horrible thoughts were all running through your head as your lady-in-waiting tied you into a dark jewel-toned velvet dress. 

“You look lovely, your highness,” she was a few years older than you, still a girl really. She had beautiful skin, a color somewhere between yours and Jamie’s, and long curly hair. You could only hope to grow up as beautiful as she. 

She ushered you out of the dressing room and out into the hall where Charles awaited you.

“Ready, princess?” he grinned like he knew a secret, and you were highly suspicious it had to do with the gathering your parents were holding. A gathering of many of the noble houses to kick off the holiday season, and renew their friendships. Many of the heads of houses were very busy and didn’t come by the estate often. You weren’t excited to see all of them, but it did mean you would get to see James. It had only been a few months but it felt like a lifetime.

So when you stepped into the dining hall, expecting to see a dozen or so guests… You stopped short. Instead of the grand tables your parents would bring out for large gatherings there was an intimate table set for six. 

Seated at the table were your parents, Euphemia and Fleamont Potter, and your Jamie, face split open into the widest grin you could have imagined. 

Your mother had a coy smile on her face, and your father rolled his eyes lovingly.

“Well go on, I suppose a hug is in order,” he laughed as you threw yourself towards the table, and towards James. He stood just in time to catch you and throw his arms around you. 

“Oh, I’ve missed you James,” you wished you could cry, but you knew it was unbecoming to do so, especially when hugging a boy. Which was usually something you were told not to do. But, you supposed this was a special occasion. 

“And I’ve missed you, princess,” he was still smiling, you could hear it in his voice. There were rules to be observed though, so you parted from his arms (though you were loath to do so) and straightened out your skirt. 

Your dinner was lovely and joyful, both your and James’ parents sending their two young children indulgent smiles as the night went on. James told you a little about school, but you would have a few weeks to learn more.

“Could we go for a short walk outside?” James asked your parents after dessert was served. “With Charles of course,” he added hastily.

With the permission from both your parents, and with Charles’ supervision, you and James grabbed your winter coats and stepped outside. 

James seemed to know where he wanted to go, leading you towards the gardens. Once you were surrounded by snow-laden bushes and pretty winter blooms, he brushed off a bench and gestured for the two of you to sit down. 

You were sure your nose was red with the cold, but James had reminded you to wear your mittens and earmuffs. 

“I wanted to tell you about what I learned, and I couldn’t do it inside,” he was throwing that huge grin at you again, and you couldn’t help but smile back. “I’ve been taking astrology classes, and I wanted to show you all the constellations that are out tonight,” his cheeks were reddening, with cold or possibly with emotion, you weren’t sure. But at the mention of constellations you brightened. You always wanted to learn about the stars. 

As Charles stood by, you stared up into the darkness and listened as James told you a story about the Greeks and the stars. He was animated, gesturing and pointing them all out for you. 

“Two of my roommates are in my astronomy class as well, though we’re always getting caught up in mischief. You know me,” he laughed a little at himself and you nudged his shoulder with your own. 

“You? Mischief? There’s no way,” you joked, eyes lingering on the snowflakes in his eyelashes and hair as he laughed. He was a lovely sight, and the art lessons you’d taken reminded you of the word: chiaroscuro. A contrast between light and dark. 

“You two must be cold, why don’t we head back inside?” Charles piped up from behind you, and you felt your bottom lip wobble as you thought about parting with James again. But you reminded yourself that crying wasn’t to be done in front of others. So when James stood and offered a gloved hand to you, you took it and allowed him to help you up. Again, you were loath to let go of him, but you forced your fingers to loosen their grip on him. 

“I’ll come back soon. You’ll see me again before I head back to school. I still have to tell you all about my roommates!” He really seemed to take to his new friends, but you were happy that he hadn’t forgotten you. 

Unfortunately, you wouldn’t see him again before he left, as you were taken with a fever soon after the holiday passed and weren’t able to see anybody outside of Charles and your family for several weeks. 

You did begin to write him letters though, writing about everything and nothing. The only secret you had from him was your lessons from Charles.

[rainydaygt]

u have fave characters right? from any media? alright, list them and rank on a scale of 1-10 how good they would be with a tiny.

Okay so I got a little carried away and these are not ranked in any particular order (except alistair) so WHOOPS, i should be put on r/wooosh but here you go. Enjoy <3

One - Alistair Theirin, Dragon Age (origins)

My wife. He would be VERY good with a tiny. Careful and protective and gentle—constantly checking to make sure youre doing alright and cracking stupid jokes to keep the mood light. His big, stupid hands are as warm as his big, stupid heart. You would be 10000% safe around him.

Two - Fenris, Dragon Age (2)

My girlfriend. Fenris is, despite all appearances, one of the most normal chill guys in dragon age imo. He would not be pushy or grab you out of nowhere, respecting boundaries and personal space is extremely important to him. There’s not another place quite so safe as Fenris’s hands in all of Kirkwall. Actually that’s not saying a lot, Kirkwall sucks.

Three - Arthur Morgan, Red Dead Redemption (2)

My husband. Now, Arthur may look and act all big and tough and scary, but deep down he’s got a soft spot for little things and creatures. You would be no exception to this. You’d make several appearances in his journal and in his hands. He doesn’t fully trust himself with you, feeling like a big brute that could easily crush you, but he trusts most of the camp even less. Arthur gets into too much trouble himself to guarantee your safety, but he would do everything in his power to keep you alive and well.

Four - Wyll Ravengard, Baldur’s Gate (3)

My husband(2.0). Wyll quite literally treats you like a prince/princess. You will receive the utmost loyalty, chivalry and respect when you’re around him. Every hand will be presented as an offering; a question, rather than a demand or a force. He will be wide eyed with wonder at you, how small you are, and overcome with the urge to protect you at all costs. He may come across a bit overbearing in this regard, but his heart is always in the right place.

Five - Viktor, Arcane

Viktor would be very, very curious about you. He might be a bit less reserved when it comes to picking you up, but he’s gentle and careful nonetheless. He thinks you’re incredible and is reluctant to let you go, assuming this is a borrower situation; but you both know you’ll be back. His hands will be twitching to hold you again until you do. What a wonderful curiosity you are, to him. He’d want to study you, at least a little, and even if you refuse he’s still at least taking notes on your behavior. He can’t help it!

Six - Astarion Ancunin, Baldur’s Gate (3)

Albeit curious, Astarion wouldn’t pay you much mind at first. It’s not until you start showing him consistent kindness and interest that he actually starts to have conversations with you and wants to be around you. In the beginning, if you’re to be picked up it would be with an eye roll and a gentle fist. Later on, he cares a great deal more about if you’re comfortable and starts to offer his hand to you instead. Why you seem to like him so much, romantic or not, he can’t seem to puzzle out. He can’t provide you with the earthly services he’s given for so long, so you’re a curiosity and a mystery to him and he is enraptured by you.

Seven - Zevran, Dragon Age (Origins)

If there’s one thing that’s important to Zevran, it’s bodily autonomy, and due to this you would be asked every single time you need to be picked up or carried somewhere. It doesn’t matter how comfortable you get with each other, he’s firm on always making sure to ask before you’re in his hands. He never closes you in a fist and is incredibly gentle and careful. It feels very surprising to you, seeing as he’s a literal assassin, but it’s more than welcome. It’s very easy to feel very safe around him.

That’s all I could conjure up for now! The rest of them would all just be more Dragon Age characters and I already fear I’ve accidentally mischaracterized them as is. So, thanks for the ask, do come back to my box again!!

[prongsmydeer]

Ayesha Liveblogs Shrek 3 and 4

The wild gendered expectations they have on Pinocchio to hate dinner theatre LMAO

"I am the rightful King of Far Far Away." On what grounds, Prince Charming?

Why does Shrek have to do all the knighting and christening of boats when Fiona is the royal heir? Even in Shrek we cannot escape the misogyny of inheritance laws

"Imagine an Ogre baby. They extra cry, and they extra poop." This is unfortunate foreshadowing for how many babies they're gonna have

"I am proud to call you my Frog-King Dad-in-Law." Ghkjhgkjhg Shrek is as preoccupied with Harold being a frog as Harold was with him being an Ogre

"You and Fiona are next in line for the throne." Again, I feel like Fiona has this whole like, princess her whole life thing going for her. Why does Shrek need to be ruling in any way

NOT KING HAROLD BEING SENT TO REST IN YE OLDE FOOT LOCKER BOX:

Why has Doris been thrown out of the bar!! Who is Mabel!!

"And you, Frumpypigskin." "Rumplestiltskin." "Where's that firstborn you were promised?" I think this is supposed to be foreshadowing for the next Shrek movie

"How does it happen?" said Donkey, as if he did not have at least five children (six if we count the missing baby, whose name is apparently Éclair)

"My stomach aches and my palm just got sweaty. Must be a high school." Relatable. Also the implication that Shrek went to high school. Was it an Ogre high school or a general high school for fairytale creatures

"My friend Tiffany thinkest thou vex her so soothly. And she thought perchance you would ask her to the homecoming dance." Tiffany confirming that the Shrekfucker community is alive and well

Not Arthur Pendragon being bullied by the nerds omg

Fgjkhkghkgjh Guin being repulsed by Arthur. Rough

I guess we know where Doris is!! At Fiona's baby shower

"I got you the biggest one, because I love you the most." HAHAHAHA not Snow White giving Fiona a PERSON as a present

HAHAHAHAHA I love Pinnochio double negativing Charming into confusion

"He'll never fall for your tricks!" [Nose grows] Pinocchio knows Shrek is very gullible

Most of Shrek's problems are related to just being too strong to handle his own body

How long does Shrek think he can hide the fact there are other heirs to the throne. Does he think if he waits til they're in Far Far Away, Artie won't turn back?

"Somebody help! I've been kidnapped by a monster trying to relate to me." This movie strongly feels like it was written by the parent of a teenager LMAO

"Please leave any bad vibes outside the healing vortex." Me trying to talk to my parents

"My dad wasn't really the fatherly type either." 1) The plot of this movie is simply Daddy Issues: Shrek Edition and 2) Are we finally going to find out where some of the other Ogres are?

I guess we have taken until the third movie to confirm that some, if not most, Ogres, are pro-eating each other, at least. Shrek's father said, I put you in this world, I can take you out

"People used to think I was a monster. And for a long time, I believed them. But after a while, you learn to ignore the names that people call you, and you just trust who you are." SOMETHING SOMETHING METAPHORS FOR OPPRESSION SOMETHING SOMETHING MY HEART

"That Charming makes me hotter than July." Why did Rapunzel say 'ew,' isn't she the one that Charming calls Kitten Whiskers lmao

Update from 30 seconds later: I got an immediate answer to this question in the form of Rapunzel betraying them

Also: Is the topiary supposed to be Lillian or is the implication Charming's first act in this coup was to replace the garden sculptures jkhgkjhg. I've been thinking it for a while but Lillian and Charming really do have the same hair and general face shape:

"Shrek will be back soon, and you'll be sorry." Fiona why do you need Shrek, you can take out a band of ten Merry Men by yourself!! Are you hesitant to fight because you're pregnant? This movie should really be about Fiona and not Shrek

"Get yourself back to Worcestershire, kid." Bold of them to choose this name for Artie's hometown hahahah

HAHAHAHA Artie defeats Merlin's magical insecurities by having a tantrum

Efhjkfhkfjh the implication that Donkey has been suppressing his inner heehaw for two whole movies. Poor Puss in Boots

"He's a star, people! Hello? I'm so sorry about this, Mr. Shrek." Artie's best quality as a leader is his ability to think on his feet

"I wasn't right for the job. I just needed some fool to replace me." IT'S A GOOD THING YOU'RE NOT THE ROYAL HEIR OF FAR FAR AWAY SHREK, FIONA IS! IT'S HER THRONE AND HER DECISION, U DINK

Shout-out to Cinderella's slowly dwindling mental health, she's got some of the most labour-intense and psychologically difficult backstory kghkhjg

Oh hell yeah Julie Andrews as Mama Lillian showing where Fiona got her fighting skills

"Okay girls, from here on out, we're gonna take care of business ourselves." AS THEY SHOULD!

HAHAHAHAH Snow White's singing scene is all I remember from this movie. Get 'em girls!!!

Cinderella throwing her glass shoe, Sleeping Beauty tripping them with her narcolepsy, Doris tripping the men up with her leg that didn't fit into the shoe. I love that the mechanisms of their fighting are the same as their confines in the story

"Shrek only said those things to protect you." And because they were true! He was also dishonest with Arthur lmao

Awwww the Shrek fan club in the audience. He really is a beloved by the people, in his way

"If you don't mind, could you kill me, and then sing?" Charming really should've put a muzzle on Shrek if he wanted him to be a silent participant in this play

Shrek's strongest asset by far is the community of people he and Fiona have built (the fairy tale creatures, the princesses, Doris, the dragon, the citizens of Far Far Away)

"Don't you ever wish you could be something else [other than a villain]?" Arthur yet again comes through with his gift of gab

"What Steve's trying to say is it's hard to come by honest work when the whole world's against you." Steve and Ed the Evil Trees raise very point

"I grow daffodils, and they're beautiful." Love this for Captain Hook

"It's yours if you want, you know. But this time it's your choice." WHY IS IT NOT FIONA'S CHOICE!!!!!!!!! YOU'RE NOT THE PRINCE, SHREK!!!!

You know, if the only remaining complication of switching bodies is losing your tail for a bit, that's not the worst

"I think the kid's going to be a great king." "Well, for what it's worth, you would have too." SO WOULD YOU, FIONA, AS HEIR TO THIS KINGDOM!!!! Raised as a princess!! The plot of this movie is so bizarre

I love how much Lillian loves her weird little family. No Judgement Mum

Tag yourself, I'm the "Where's the Baby" Dwarf kjghjghjh

Well, even if it's not something Fiona specifically identified as wanting for herself instead of ruling, I'm happy they get to have their happy little family in the swamp and a nap

Onto: Shrek 4

I will not lie to you, I am mostly watching the fourth Shrek because I went to Shrek trivia and we missed a bunch of questions related to the fourth movie LOL

Why does the animation look so funky in this one? It's giving a bit of Monster by Mistake/direct-to-video sequel

How are Shrek's babies old enough to speak but Donkey's still look the same even though they're at least 9 months older?

Is the plot of this, much like the second Incredibles movie, 'I can't believe that I, a father, have to parent'

I know people have been committing Ogre Microaggressions all day and that he wasn't the first to destroy the cake (Donkey licked and the Pigs ate the first one) but what kind of a father destroys his own children's birthday cake. Get some therapy, Shrek

"I wouldn't expect you to understand, it's not like you're a real Ogre. You spent half your life in a palace." "And the other half locked away in a tower." 1) What a thing to say to someone who became an ogre permanently FOR YOU, and 2) She got a point there, Shrek

"You have three beautiful children, a wife who loves you, friends who adore you. You have everything." Shrek said: God Fiona, have you ever heard of an introvert

Lmao @ this movie retconning the fact that Shrek and Rumplestiltskin have already encountered each other when Arthur took the throne

Shrek representing the very real experience of not reading the terms and conditions every time you sign off:

"It's me, Shrek, your best friend." After four movies Shrek finally admits that Donkey is his best friend hahaha

Gingey being in a cookie fighting league jkhfkfh on brand for him

Why is there such a large proportion of witches in Rumpelstiltskin's palace hahaha, I get that there were more than a few, but Rumpelstiltskin seems to hang with witches exclusively?

"I ended Fiona's curse." Technically yes, but did u really Shrek? You just ended the switcheroo to her original human form, not the resultant transformation

I gotta say, the soundtrack moments in this film are so far a lot weaker, BUT I do love Shrek rescuing Donkey, His Best Friend Who Doesn't Know Him, and covering his eyes as they go through the roof:

As if to challenge me on that last point, they had Shrek sing an off-key rendition of "You've Got a Friend," which was delightful

Donkey looks particularly off in this movie and I've just realized it's because of the texture of his fur. It was smooth and growing in a similar direction for three movies, and now it's super coarse and messy

"You should never sign a contract with Rumpelstiltskin." Not Donkey having more common sense than Shrek HAHA

"You gonna have to take me to dinner first." I will take this as Donkey coming out as bisexual

"Fate has delivered us a comrade-in arms and for that we are thankful." The implication that Ogres do have a society and Shrek just chooses to never interact with them bc HIS FAMILY is the only one who loves terrorizing is VERY FUNNY

I love how Shrek also seems to be one of the smallest Ogres. Little man

I thought the idea of Fiona staying an Ogre was for her to subvert the beauty standard (which like, another conversation, 'cause she looks fine as an ogre) but they had to make a point of her being a sexy warrior ogre HAHA:

(I can see why this film didn't do that well with audiences)

Why is Fiona the ONLY female ogre? Where are the women!!

"Well, I see who wears the chainmail in your family," said Donkey, both correct about Fiona's fighting prowess and unaware that his wife is a Dragon ten times his size

Took me a sec to realize why the water would be threatening to the witches kjhgjghjgh (not poison, just dealing with Dorthy Dousing Disease)

OHHH Cookie is an Ogre who loves cooking, I had wondered about that in the Shrek trivia

"Shrek, do my babies have hooves or talons?" Donkey is SO excited to be a father!! I love that for him

Lmao @ them suggesting Shrek stresses Puss into being physically fit with the fights he causes

"[Candy]'d work on me." I guess there is another woman Ogre, but not with a scanty outfit! Only Fiona gets Ogregectification

I do love the falling in love while sparring. Couples MMA league:

I love that Puss in Boots is immediately Team Shrek/Fiona

"You are a catastrophe." "And you, are re-donkulous." [Shared laughter] Hahaha I like that the only obstacle in Puss and Donkey's friendship was they needed to meet sooner to avoid the competition for Shrek's attention

"I can't believe I let this happen, and it's all because of you." In fairness to Shrek, no one could see inside the carriage

They spent the entire animation budget on this frame of Puss in Boots:

I do like them subverting the expectation that just a kiss would solve their problems when love is what they need

"Then where were you, when I needed you?" Thinking of ways to become an absentee father

"Please stay tuned for a message from our tyrannical dictator." I wish all political announcements were this honest

There is something fun about the circling back to Shrek 1 Mob

"If your life was so perfect, why'd you sign it all away to Rumpelstiltskin in the first place?" "Because I didn't know what I had until it was gone, alright?!" Fiona even reminded you! Get some therapy Shrek

"What are you talking 'bout, cracker?" I CANNOT BELIEVE THEY GOT AWAY WITH PUTTING THIS IN A CHILDREN'S MOVIE (point of clarification: It was said to the Gingerbread Man)

DID PUSS IN BOOTS JUST KILL GINGEY???? AH?????

"I'm just a frightened old man." "Don't listen to him, these Ogres are crafty." "That is your father painted green." Pinocchio finally gets his revenge on his dad for selling him to the Duloc Guards hahahaha

Shrek giving up his freedom to save the other Ogres 😭😭😭😭😭😭

"Nobody's smart but me," said Rumpelstiltskin, while leaving the only two people who could break his spell together to fall in love:

HAHAHAHAA how could they have Trojan Horse'd Rumpelstiltskin SO QUICKLY after being freed?? It is the SAME NIGHT, 2 MOVIE MINUTES LATER:

"I'll call you! We're in love." If there's one thing Donkey is willing to do, it's commit to the bit

I love that the way they keep Dragon at bay is both a callback to the first movie and a callback to the phrase Fiona has tied knots with throughout the movie. A rare moment of good writing it in this funny little movie

I guess in lieu of Shrek's other friends knowing him, it's an Ogre-only revolution

"Looks like we're having curly-toed weirdo for breakfast." So ogres eat ogres AND people. Four movies for someone to confirm it explicitly!!

"You know what the best part of today was? I got the chance to fall in love with all over again." A very sweet reflection about a problem Shrek caused himself

Lillian is genuinely so accepting of her bizarre family 💞 She doesn't care if she married a frog or if her grandkids are ogres

I can't believe they saved two of the best soundtrack songs and this fun character montage of moments throughout the series for the end credits!

Overall, I would say I prefer the first three Shrek movies (and especially the first two) but if they put out another one, I would probably watch it LOL

[loveaetingkids]

Arthur and the Minimoys or the nostalgic movie I would not recommend 

Back when I was little I was a big fan of a cartoon that told a story of a 10 year old boy traveling to the land of microscopic creatures in order to rescue his grandpa.But upon rewatching the trilogy (yes,there are three movies out there) I realized that it has way more problematic aspects then I remember.You may ask:what is so icky about a French cartoon from 2000s with uncanny valley effects that made you want to warn people?Well worry not,for I will explain it to you!

1.Bogo Matassalai

Bogo Matassalai is a fictional African tribe that the main characters grandfather,Archibald Suchshot,helped build an irrigation system.As thanks,they gifted him a bag of rubies and introduced him to their friends-minimoys.What is interesting though,is that both tribes mentioned moved to Connecticut,specifically to the Archibalds yard or nearby,seemingly without any reason (as it wasn’t mentioned in any film).Bear in mind that Arthur’s grandfather is supposed to be an explorer during the 60s,so now the implications are weird.

Another thing is Bogo Matassalais lack of individuality:we don’t learn about their reasoning behind abandoning their homeland to move with Suchshot,their backstories aside from what others told of them,even their names are unknown.The tribe usually shows up when the plot requires them to,helping the main character and then disappearing.What’s worse is the reaction of others towards them:Arthur’s father,Francis,after first seeing members of Bogo Matassalai,ran away frightened towards home where he tried to call the police,and when he failed,Francis tried to explain that he saw “tall and black” figures.His wife,Rosie,isn’t better in this regard:every time she sees the tribe,she either faints or acts as if they could bite her head off.It seems that the crew behind those films wanted to show the bias of Arthur’s parents and ridicule them, but without devoting enough time to this aspect, the audience only sees the shuddering and gawking at people of another ethnicity for the comedic aspect.

It’s also important to add that in the second film,the tribe wanted Arthur to pass the tests of nature,where he hugs trees and sleeps near wild animals.Aside from cultural inaccuracy I’m not qualified to dissect,we also get-

-this.

It becomes pretty clear that Bogo Matassalai are used either as a narrative foil or some kind of exotic ���other”,stripping them of any personality or agency.However,this wasn’t the only instance the trilogy did certain characters dirty.

2.Selenia 

Oh boy,where do I even begin?The princess of the First Land was hinted to be Arthur’s love interest from the very start,but upon getting to know her we notice that she’s voiced by a grown actress(Madonna in the eng dub and Myléne Farmer in the french) and is sexualized either through frames that showcase her butt/breasts(like that scene when Arthur took a lace from her top-corset thingy and she had to hold it from falling apart) or through the words of grown men who want to marry her.So aside from objectification of said character,we also get the memo that she’s an adult and Arthur is too young for her.But apparently that isn’t the issue?During their stay with Koolamassai,the princess explains that she’s 1000 years old,but the human equivalent is 10.So now it’s confirmed that Arthur,a 10 year old boy,is considered an adult in Minimoys society and therefore allowed to marry Selenia,a woman who turns out to be a child in human years.So here we have a female character, who,despite being  portrayed by the male gaze,is still implied to be a kid.

Thus here are my reasons as to why watching Arthur and the Minimoys may be uncomfortable for an audience who hopped on nostalgia train or wanted to see something new.

[chevaliermalfets]

Hello, I am already in love with with Morgan. I'd love to hear more about her, or know where I could read her story?

Also. In a world where men get their heads cut off and are fine, or grow to be as tall as trees, or hold their breath for nine days, I think we deserve some Mary Sue girlies. As a treat. :)

hiiii I haven't written anything for her (or arthuriana in general) but I have many thoughts that I'll put under a readmore

also you're SO right we do deserve some mary sue girlies. as a treat!!

some jumbled thoughts about morgan:

first off im the world's #1 supporter of arthur/guinevere/lancelot polyamory and also of playing with lancelot's gender, so in my version, lancelot is afab (possibly transmasc or nonbinary, I haven't fully decided) but presents as male so only a few people (arthur, guinevere, the lady of the lake (who raised him, let him dress masc and get trained as a knight, etc), maybe one or two others) know that he's not a cis man. also while arthur/guinevere/lancelot is very much a thing, they have to keep it secret, and there's still rumors that lancelot is sleeping with the queen (he is. he's also sleeping with the king. usually at the same time).

so at one point lancelot gets pregnant with arthur's child and they have problems because:

they can't exactly announce that their best knight is going on maternity leave

they want to acknowledge the baby as one of arthur's children

so the solution is to send lancelot "on a quest" where he just goes back to....the lady of the lake?? probably?? and chills with her for a while until he has baby morgan and he then secretly sends her to camelot

at the same time, guinevere fakes a pregnancy, and there's a bunch of rumors that lancelot is the father because of his conveniently timed "quest"

so when baby morgan arrives, arthur announces the baby to the court and the nobles/castle staff/etc are all clambering to see the baby to figure out if lancelot is the father. they all take one look and are like "oh. that's definitely arthur's child" (either through facial features, or im also thinking arthur and morgan have darker skin while both guinevere and lancelot have lighter skin) and some of them are a bit disappointed because they wanted to keep spreading rumors

morgan grows up in the castle and is friends with other nobles' kids, and she's jealous when the boys her age start to get knight training, so she watches the training from her window and tries to teach herself. when she's like 10, one of her friends' (still working on a name, calling her V for now) father (a knight?) dies (V's mother also died several years prior) and she's left destitute, but morgan sneaks her into the castle and hides her in her room and sneaks her food. (morgan's nanny catches on pretty quickly but doesn't say anything, she just makes sure there's always extra food left out in the room and plenty of clothes and toys)

by the time she's like 12, mordred can very clearly tell that his little sister is arthur's favorite and could pose a threat to his guaranteed succession to the throne, so he tries to kill her (poison?? maybe with the help of morgana or morgause?? or an "accident" when she's horseback riding??) and she's very sick for a few weeks. arthur strongly suspects it was mordred, but he doesn't have any evidence so he can't do anything about it.

to keep her safe, arthur decides to send her to a convent. she's upset about this and throws a fit because she doesn't realize she was poisoned, she just thinks she's being punished. she also realizes that she can't keep taking care of V if she's not living in the castle, so they hatch a Scheme™

when the knights come to escort morgan to the convent, she comes out of her room all ready to go with her hood pulled over her face and she's acting very pouty. the knights are all like "ugh why did we have to get stuck escorting the bratty princess" so they don't interact with her much, they just try to get this over with as soon as possible. they take her to the convent and introduce her to the nuns and get out of there. the nuns have never seen the princess so they don't realize that they're raising V instead of morgan

meanwhile morgan runs away, disguised as a boy, and starts training to be a knight for several years (possibly with the help of the lady of the lake)

after four years or so, arthur and guinevere send for morgan to come back to camelot to have a role in the court. when V shows up pretending to be morgan, no one knows the difference because they haven't seen her in four years and she looks close enough. V continues to live at court for several years doing princess things

eventually, lancelot and guinevere get caught, lancelot escapes, and guinevere is sentenced to be burnt at the stake. mordred knows lancelot is going to mount a rescue, so he plants a trap on the outskirts of camelot and captures him. being the dramatic Bitch™ that he is, he waits until the last minute (when they're leading guinevere to the stake) to tell arthur.

(I have this scene so clearly in my head. arthur is staring out the window at guinevere, he doesn't even turn when the big doors slam open, only looks when mordred begins speaking to him and tells him he has good news. his goons lead in a chained up knight with a bag over his head and force him onto his knees, then mordred says something like "I have captured the traitor knight" and pulls the bag off lancelot's head. lancelot and arthur lock eyes and lancelot is very clearly apologizing for failing while arthur just looks heartbroken, because not only does he have to watch guinevere burn now with no hope of her being rescued, but he'll also have to sentence the man he loves to death as well. arthur's forced to let the execution proceed and at the very last moment an army storms the square and a mysterious knight rescues guinevere and rides off with her. arthur and lancelot and relieved but also extremely confused because the knight's insignia is unfamiliar, and they have no idea what he intends to do with guinevere.)

surprise, the mysterious knight is morgan! she sends her army off to keep guinevere safe and goes to camelot under a flag of truce. she gets taken to arthur, but still wearing full armor with her visor down so no one knows who she is. she goes up to mordred and throws her glove down to challenge him to a duel to the death, claiming that he tried to kill her years ago. he doesn't deny it, saying he's tried to kill lots of people. they fight, she wins, while she has her sword to his throat she demands he withdraw the accusations against the queen and lancelot. he does, so she lets him live, but now lancelot and guinevere are free and can return to camelot.

morgan turns to arthur and pledges her loyalty and asks to be a knight of the round table, and he's so grateful that lancelot and guinevere are safe that he accepts. he asks her to stand and asks her name and to remove her helmet. she reveals that she's princess morgan, which V confirms (maybe morgan also shows a distinctive birthmark or something to further prove her identity)

yay! everyone's happy! morgan gets to be a knight and also be princess and also gets gay married to V.

I'm thinking also maybe redemption arc for mordred where he comes around to caring for morgan, maybe throws himself in front of a sword for her and tells her she'll be a good queen or smth as his last words

[mirkwoodsprinceofdoingtoomuch]

Two part 1

“As your mother, I can appreciate that maybe this isn’t your fault, but as the president, all I want is to have the CIA fake your death and ride the dead-kid sympathy into a second term.”

So, you can hate the heir to the throne all you want, write mean poems about him in your diary, but the minute you see a camera, you act like the sun shines out of his dick, and you make it convincing.”

“Idea,” Nora says. “Let’s make it a drinking game.”

“Ooh, yes,” June agrees “Drink every time Alex gets one right?”

“Drink every time the answer makes you want to puke?” Alex suggests.

“One drink for a correct answer, two drinks for a Prince Henry fact that is legitimately, objectively awful,” Nora says.

Alex picks up his own glass, already pulling up a mental image of Henry’s parents, Catherine’s shrewd blue eyes and Arthur’s movie-star jaw.

“Mother: Princess Catherine, oldest daughter of Queen Mary, first princess to obtain a doctorate—English literature,” he rattles off. “Father: Arthur Fox, beloved English film and stage actor best known for his turn as James Bond in the eighties, deceased 2015. Y’all drink.”

“Okay,” June says, scanning the list, apparently looking for something more challenging. “Let’s see. Dog’s name?”

“David,” Alex says. “He’s a beagle. I remember because, like, who does that? Who names a dog David? He sounds like a tax attorney. Like a dog tax attorney. Drink.”

“Hey, what do you think Zahra put on my fact sheet?”

“Hmm,” Nora says, sucking her teeth. “Favorite summer Olympic sport: rhythmic gymnastics—”

“I’m not ashamed of that.”

“Favorite brand of khakis: Gap.”

“Listen, they look best on my ass. The J. Crew ones wrinkle all weird. And they’re not khakis, they’re chinos. Khakis are for white people.”

“Allergies: dust, Tide laundry detergent, and shutting the fuck up.”

“Age of first filibuster: nine, at SeaWorld San Antonio, trying to force an orca wrangler into early retirement for, quote, ‘inhumane whale practices.’”

“I stood by it then, and I stand by it now.”

[imsparky2002]

Class of Villainy - Headcanons: Part 1

I imagine that Ivan speaks with a southern accent in this universe (Sounds like a teenaged version of Arthur Morgan. Basically sounds like this)

Nora is actually quite friendly to Lila. Sure, she’s Alya’s lackey, but Nora just has a lovable soul. Lila wishes she could join the side of good.

Lila comes from a poor background, and is generally amazed by how big and expensive this school is. She’d be having a blast if it weren’t for her villainous bullies.

The only people allowed to refer to Queen Candy as her real name of Rose are Juleka and her other villainous classmates.

The monarch kids generally lord their status over the heroic students. Marc, Nathaniel and Rose command the kids to bow down to their power, and expect complete power over these peons. Zoe pretends to be humble and kind, but it’s only an act to seem approachable “for a princess” and she’ll drop the act once she’s elected.

As hybrid rulers, Ismael and Alix attack both humans and especially hybrids. It doesn’t matter if you’re a predator-hybrid or prey-hybrid, they treat you like dirt. It’s a good thing that DuPont is a pretty accepting space for hybrids, and the human students rally to help the bullied hybrids fight back, not that it works.

Chloe is great friends with Marinette and Sabrina, even if she finds the girls to be a bit psycho. The ginger and Marinette start out hating one another, and Chloe decides to help them get along, for the sake of evil and for advancing her own plans. She organizes a shopping spree with the girls, who find out they have a hatred for cute animals (Marinette hates dogs, and Sabrina hates mice). They become frenemies (They’re friendly, but they’ll still bicker and argue with eachother at all times.)

Nino feels a bit insecure about himself. Compared to those in the group who have magical powers, athletic skills, big muscles, are, goddesses, royalty, or just plain murderers, Nino’s just a dude who’s good at conning. Hell! Denise can scam people, but they have magic! His friends and girlfriend are able to cheer him up, reminding him that his love for being a bad guy is what got him in here in the fist place. He’s a villain, and it doesn’t matter how small the crimes are.

Zoe and Cosette have the sense to act like their canon selves when interacting with classmates, in order to gain power and votes for becoming the School President and Vice President

For three years, Adrien, Kagami, and Luka fight to win Marinette’s cruel heart. She knows about their attraction, and finds their obsession to be romantic. She lets Adrien and Kagami scheme and fight one another, while Luka just tries his best, and she revels in the drama. Right before graduation, she tells them that she has love in her heart for all of them. They decide to join forces as a maniacal polycule. They can all be villainous lovers, and the whole group celebrates with a party.

The classes genuinely like to be teammates with one another. Sure there’s rivalry from various students, but it’s friendly, and they’re loyal to the end.

And that’s just part 1 of my headcanons. Lemme know what you think. As always @artzychic27 and @msweebyness. I’d love to hear everybody’s headcanons in replies, reblogs, and new posts.

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace -

Chapter 1:  And That Is When Everything Changed...

OK so this is my “origins” story, so to speak, where it all begins. This is the intro to my OC / reader character. In my mind, as I envision and write for it, her name is Ellsbeth Monroe. She is loosely based on Merida from Brave; awkward and mouthy, too smart for her own good sometimes. She is sarcastic and always says what’s on her mind, getting herself into trouble more often than not. She comes from a good family, but doesn’t always play the part of “high-society” too well. She’s not a “Disney princess” perfect beauty, either. Pretty in her own way. 

When I write my stuff, I have “Ellsbeth” in mind, but I write it as second person/reader perspective as I feel that perspective just immerses a reader so intimately. 

**This is also a rather long one. I didn’t want to break it up, as I wasn’t sure where to do it, or if the events could stand on their own as a cohesive story. Hope some of you like it...enjoy!

Summary:  Arthur is out on a scout when he comes across a woman in need and brings her to the camp.

Warnings: Mentions of assault (certainly not in graphic detail), hanging of a character, allusion to racial discourse (again, certainly not in graphic detail), medical scenario (I am not a medical professional, just did a little research)

Next Chapter

*This image is gifted to me by @namesaretomainstream

Once in a lifetime, you meet someone who changes everything...

   He kneels in the soft earth, hidden in the brush and trees, silently watching. His eyes are slightly squinted, as they roam over the homestead laid out in front of him. Arthur makes no sudden moves, no nervous twitching of any kind. He is ever so patient to wait. To look at him, one would think he simply wandered onto the property and was taking a rest. Arthur may act like he doesn't notice things, but in reality, he sees everything. The homestead that he is scouting belongs to a Mr. Calvin Dent, a rich importer who recently moved into the area. He was in town about a week ago, boasting of his "highly successful business" and how Rock Springs was "damn lucky he'd come here to bring proper commerce to the area". The arrogance of some people really is surprising sometimes. While his pretension may have instilled envy with some folks, it also made him a target. Trewlany happen to be in Rock Springs at the time, and upon hearing of a new mark, of course he made sure to let Dutch and the gang know of such an opportunity.

   And so here Arthur found himself, scouting out a rich man's house with no idea of what, if anything, is inside. He's been out for several days already over this:  a full day's ride out from camp and then two days watching. If this guy is truly as important as he said he is, there's no telling what Arthur is going to run into. Maybe Mr. Dent has guards that follow him everywhere. Maybe he has attack dogs. Or maybe he takes zero precautions and is a total idiot. Nothing surprises Arthur anymore. But its his caution that has kept him alive all these years. So Arthur will sit and wait as long as he needs to.

   But as luck would have it, Arthur overhears Mr. Dent talking to a subordinate about how they need to go into town for a meeting at the bank. They need to hurry and go and get back to the house as his family is due in, traveling from the East, to join him here outside of Rock Springs. They are traveling by train so Dent needs to finish his business dealings with the bank and get over to the station before they arrive. Arthur smiles at this news. If everyone is leaving the house, that means no bloodshed or even contact to worry about. So he bides his time, waiting for Mr. Dent and his associate to leave.

   Once the men leave the property, Arthur carefully emerges from the wood-line, making his way to the barn first. He leads his horse, Buck, around to the back of it, tying him there to wait. With the horse close and easily accessible, yet hidden from view, Arthur slowly makes his way to the house. He's been watching and listening for two days, so he's sure there is no one else here with Mr. Dent and his assistant gone, but you can never be too careful. Popping out a windowpane on the back door, he reaches in to unlock it and lets himself into the house. He takes a scan of the floor plan, and quickly finds Mr. Dent's office. Making a beeline for it, Arthur starts to dig around. But he doesn't find any money of real significance, just a few dollars, which he pockets. He does find a ledger with a delivery schedule, though. Flipping through a few pages, he tears some out and puts them in his satchel. Maybe they can follow it for some robberies later on. With nothing else in this room, Arthur decides to try the bedroom.

   He makes his way down the short hallway and rounds the banister to head up the staircase. Arthur's heavy footfalls ring out of place in such a decadent house as this. He runs his dirty and calloused hands along the handrail as he ascends, noting the smoothness of the varnished wood. He raises his eyes to look upon the paintings and the delicate sconce fixtures along the walls and on the tabletops where oil lamps and candles sit to light the way when nighttime falls. When he reaches the top of the stairs, he proceeds to move through the upstairs living area, cautiously popping his head into each room making sure all is clear. He eventually makes his way and finds the master bedroom. Upon entering, he arches an eyebrow as he sighs heavily in annoyance. In the center of the room is an enormous 4-post bed, with lavish tapestries hanging from the corners. Giant, fluffy pillows and thick blankets adorn the mattress. "Some people live such different lives," Arthur shakes his head. He's never even slept in a bed like this for an hour, let alone done it ever night.

   He looks about and sees what he's been looking for:  a safe. A mischievous smirk crosses the outlaw's face as he strides over to it, crouching down before the lock. He tilts his head to the side, studying it. Its too large for him to lift and carry out, so he'll have to crack the lock here. Arthur hasn't been playing with the thing too long before he hears voices. He freezes, holding motionless as he waits for another sign of some kind. And then he hears it again: voices clear as day. Shit, they're back already?! He quickly and quietly stands and walks to the window to see Mr. Dent and, what Arthur assumes to be, his family; a woman and three children, riding in a wagon, talking loud enough to alert any living thing in the vicinity of their presence. Apparently they arrived early and were already on their way to the house, meeting Mr. Dent on the road before he even made it to town.

   Before he can think of what to do, Dent's wife and children quickly walk up the steps of the front porch and into the house, trapping Arthur upstairs. He swiftly crosses the room to silently close the door to the space that he currently occupies, then makes his way back to the window. Mr. Dent is still outside talking to his associate. Arthur is waiting for Dent to enter the house as well before he can climb out the window to make his escape, and needing him to do so before his wife or children make it up the stairs and find Arthur hiding there. Arthur's heart is racing as he really had no intention of roughing anyone up today, and certainly not in front of children. He turns his head towards the sounds of footsteps on the staircase down the hall, then back to the window. The second he sees Dent and the other man walk into the house, Arthur has the window open and climbs out onto the roof top. He just barely makes it out before he hears the children plain as day, just feet from him on the other side of the wall. The little ones burst into the room and begin jumping up and down on the fancy bed. With what he hopes is enough of a distraction, Arthur climbs down the side of the house, using the rose trellis as a make-shift ladder. "I'm gettin' too old for this shit," he mutters to himself as he hastily climbs down.

   As his feet hit the dirt, he presses his back to the house, staying out of sight for a few moments. When he's sure its safe to move unseen, he darts behind the barn to where his horse is still waiting for him. "C'mon, boy, time to go," he whispers as he mounts the horse and quickly leads him to the wood-line, escaping being caught. Arthur spurs Buck into a canter, pushing him further away from the homestead. After checking over his shoulder a few times, he's confident that he is not being followed and finally allows himself to relax.

   "It's always somethin'", Arthur mumbles, lighting a cigarette and hastily tossing the match to the ground. His face twists into an annoyed frown. Micah was supposed to run this job. But no, he had better things to do. Or so he convinced Dutch. Arthur takes a long drag off of his cigarette as he mulls over the newest member of their gang. Arthur is not too impressed with Micah Bell. Although, he is good with a gun. That, Arthur will give him credit for, at least. But as far as everything else is concerned, Arthur just doesn't think he measures up. But Dutch seems to like him, so they're all stuck with him for now. So good ol' trusty Arthur was sent out on this job instead. Like a god damned obedient dog. Damn it.

   Arthur decides he's had enough, as he tosses the empty cigarette butt to the ground, and its time to head back to camp. He sticks to the woods, rather than the roads. Its an occupational habit. He'd be home sooner if he followed the road, but he's also more exposed, too. He isn't too far along when he hears screaming. Arthur instantly freezes, his hand instinctively goes to the revolver on his hip. Squinting his eyes and scanning his surroundings, he waits for the sound of gunfire, horses, or some other sign of an oncoming attack that usually follows such an alarming sound, but it never comes. Instead, he hears the screaming again, this time louder and much more urgent. Its a woman. And unfortunately, due to the nature of it, Arthur fears the worst.

   He kicks the side of his horse, spurring him into motion towards the sound. Arthur races through the trees and brush of the woods, and it doesn't take him long to find the source. He comes up through the grove and finds four men with a woman pinned to the ground. Two of them each have an arm of hers, holding her in place, a third has himself positioned between her legs. The fourth is standing off to the side, arms crossed and smugly watching the disgusting scene. Arthur's stomach lurches and turns at the very sight of it. His vision turns red and things slow down to a crawl in his mind’s eye. The woman is screaming desperately, trying to get these men off her as they try to muffle her, thrashing as much as her poor body can in a powerless attempt to free herself.

   As you lay there on the ground, you're trying to block out everything that's happening to you. Your senses are completely overwhelmed; your muscles ache and your thighs burn from the friction of the man looming over you. But more than anything else, its the hatred; the hatred that burns in you at the audacity of these men that they can, and will, lay their hands on you and commit such an assault. And you know these men, too. That's what is so revolting about this whole thing. "You always thought you were better than everyone else, didn't you? You're were always so damn smart, weren't you?!" Walt yells at you. Walt is the one standing off to the side.

   Suddenly, the startling sound of a gunshot and a spray of blood shocks you as the man’s eyes who is jirating above you go wide, his motions halt instantly and he slumps over to the side. "What the hell?!", you can hear Walt yelling. Another shot rings out and then another in rapid succession, and the other two men who have been holding your arms down drop instantly.  A bullet lands between each of their eyes with such precision, causing the back of their heads to explode and rain red droplets everywhere. With them now out of your line of vision, you can see the source of the gunfire. A man with the gun in question is stalking towards the lot of you at an alarming pace. Your vision is blurred from the tears in your eyes, your head is drunk with adrenaline, but you can definitely make out the look of anger that burns intensely on his face. You have no idea who he is or where he came from. Or even if he’s there to help you, for that matter. For all you know he’s getting these men out of the way to make room for himself. As the stranger stalks even closer, gun still raised and now pointed at the last man, Walt holds his hands up in surrender. "Hey...hey listen, I don't want any trouble with you. Please, mister. This doesn't concern you," stammers Walt, motioning to you as you lie on the ground still, frozen, afraid to move a muscle, yet your wide eyes dart back and forth between the two men. The stranger says nothing and shows no sign of halting, nor does he point his gun elsewhere. "She ain't worth it!" Walt yells at the stranger, starting to fidget anxiously. "Aw, c'mon..." Walt says under his breath, realizing now that the man will not be stopping. "Spare me some mercy, I'm begging you," Walt pleads in a last effort to save his worthless hide, as the mystery man is now only a few feet from him. "There ain't no mercy for your kind," the stranger says coldly. And with another echoing gunshot, Walt goes down, just feet from you, without any more hesitation and a gaping hole in his chest.

   You cover your mouth and let out a muffled scream, shocked at the sight of the men's bodies scattered about you. The stranger turns his attention from the crumpled forms before him, satisfied that they are all dead, and then finally lets his eyes fall upon you. Realizing that his attention in now fully on you, you quickly remove your hand from your mouth and scramble backwards on your hands, desperately trying to get away from the man, before finally stopping and holding your scraped-up hands out in a feeble effort to protect yourself. "No, no!!" you shriek at him. You are shaking violently now, trying to control your sobbing. Arthur hesitates slightly before he slowly holsters his gun, and raises his own hands up in surrender. He tentatively walks towards you, getting just a bit closer and crouches down to your eye level so he can get a look at you. "It’s alright, I’m not gonna hurt you," he says. His voice is deep and rough, but not threatening. He notices your torn blouse and ripped skirts. Your nose and mouth are bleeding from where those men back-handed you into submission. As he looks you over, the look of anger hovers over his face again, but just briefly.

   You anxiously watch him as the man slowly stands up and heads back to his horse and saddlebag to get some bandages, a canteen, and a shirt that he has wadded up in his bag. He returns and offers you the canteen first. You blink away the tears in your eyes, hesitating before you raise your shaking hand up to accept the water from him. Then he tentatively reaches over to dab the cuts on your face in an effort to clean you up. When you shrink back from his touch, he stops instantly and holds the bandage out to you, offering for you to do it on your own. Lastly, he offers the shirt. “‘M sorry, it ain’t the cleanest, but it’ll get you covered for now.” You slowly extend your hand out and nod in gratitude as you gingerly take the shirt from his grasp. You still watch the man carefully out of the corner of your eye as you push your arms through the sleeves, wincing slightly, as your body just aches all over.

"What’s your name?", Arthur asks, crouching down in front of you again.

Your head is pounding at this point so its difficult to discern that he's speaking directly to you, but you eventually process the words. "(Y/F&L/N)". You look at him expectantly, waiting for him to offer his own name in response, but he hesitates. 'Do I give her my real name?', he thinks to himself.

"Arthur Morgan". 'Dumbass' he immediately thinks to himself. He's not sure why he didn’t lie. 'You never give out your real name to a stranger', he berates himself internally. But Arthur can only guess its because you do not appear to be a threat, as he doesn't feel the necessity to lie to you. "You want to tell me what happened, here? I mean...aside from the obvious? Who were those men?"

   You look over at the bodies of the men who assaulted you. "Those men," you spit out in anger, "they chased me from Rosewood. You know, the railroad town? There was an accident there. My father..." And you halt at the mention of him. "My father is the doctor in that town. He tried to help, but when he failed to be quick enough, the damn town turned on us. And we ran. And...they most assuredly followed." Arthur was expecting more information when you stopped, unable to carry on.

   After a few moments, Arthur gently asked the question, "And where is your father now?" You don't answer him right away, trying to form the words that go with the thoughts in your head. “He’s left back a ways," your voice barely above a whisper as you stare at your hands that are now folded in your lap. You lift your eyes to meet the man's in front of you. "Can you help me? Please? I can't leave him there.” Arthur hesitates a moment. He really shouldn't get involved with this. But the sight of you in such a vulnerable state leaves him completely at your mercy. "Sure, of course," he says and proceeds to stand up. He moves towards you to offer his hand to help you up as well. Your legs burn, and your balance is wobbly at best as you stand and stumble slightly into him, grasping his forearms for support. Arthur hums to himself, thinking of what to do. He whistles for Buck, who quickly saunters over at the call. Arthur turns towards you, but he hesitates as he looks down at you. " I...uh...I’m gonna put my hands on your waist and lift you on up onto the saddle. That OK?"  The empathy he shows you seems contradictory to the initial first impression you have of him:  this large, intimidating man, who coldly shot and killed four men in minutes, without hesitation or any second guessing. You offer him a small, yet grateful smile at the consideration he displays and give him a short nod in approval. He gently places his large hands, strong as they are, on your hips, and effortlessly puts you up onto Buck's saddle before he begins to walk along with the horse from the ground.

   It doesn't take you long to walk to the tree where your father was left hanging. As soon as you see his lifeless body swaying gently in the air, it causes the memory of what happened to flood your mind two-fold. Flashes of Walt and his friends chasing the two of you down. Them grabbing your father and beating his face, locking him into a choke-hold as one of them grabs a rope. You cover your face with your hands at the thought of one of them holding you down to the ground to watch as the other three wrap the rope around your father's neck, tossing the end of it over a branch before pulling it taut, hoisting him up into the air. You begin to choke back the sobs again. Arthur stands quietly, not saying a word, giving you your moment to grieve. Eventually, he clears his throat, before silently lifting his hands up to you, helping you down from the saddle before climbing up onto the horse himself. He gently hands you his knife from his belt. "When I get under him, cut the rope and I’ll grab him." You don't say anything, gingerly taking the knife out of his hands. He nudges Buck forward, maneuvering him to stand underneath your father's body. He looks to you then, and you begin to slice at the rope. The tension of the bond snaps and Arthur quickly grabs your father. The man’s lifeless body is carefully draped across the front of the saddle and he walks his horse a few steps away from the tree.

   "Where do you want to bury him, miss?" Arthur poses the question to you, but as you open your mouth, your mind goes blank. You simply stare at your father's body, blinking back the tears that continually form in your eyes, unable to answer. "How 'bout right here, then? Under the tree?" he offers. "Its a nice shady spot. Kinda quiet an' all." You sniffle slightly and nod in agreement, reaching up to wipe your cheek. "Alright then," he says quietly. Arthur dismounts from Buck, rubbing his hands together as he tries to think of how to do this. All that he has on him that he can possibly use to dig a grave with is his hatchet. He carefully bends to set his shoulder under your father's chest and pulls him from the saddle. He walks back towards the tree with your father over his shoulder before he gingerly bows to lay him on the ground. He turns, walking back to the horse, and pulls his hatchet from the saddlebag. Coming back, he kneels alongside your father's body and begins to hack at the ground with the hatchet. Fortunately, the ground is soft and gives easily. After watching for a few moments, you pull yourself out of your own fog, continuing to wipe the tears from your cheek and join Arthur on the ground. You slowly use your own hands to pull away the dirt that he's pulled up. You both work in silence, and it doesn't take long before the two of you have dug a decent sized hole to lay your father in. You gently lay him out and fold his hands over his chest, before taking one last look at the man's face. "What was his name?" Arthur asks you. "Andrew", you reply quietly. Sadly, you begin to pull the dirt back into the hole and over your father, finally laying him to rest. Arthur helps you to collect and place a ring of rocks around the mound, and as you whisper a few last prayers and say your good-bye, Arthur places a cross at the top of the grave that he's fashioned by lashing two sticks together with some bits of rope he had tucked away in his saddlebag. You look over at it as he pushes it into the soft earth and notice that he's used his knife to carve your father's initials into the center post.

   With the task completed, Arthur kneels across from you, studying you for a moment as you sit staring at the fresh grave, grasping the loose dirt in your fist. "Can I take you somewhere, Miss (Y/L/N)? You got anywhere to go? Any family?" he asks you. You shake your head, but your eyes do not leave your father's grave. "No. No family. It was just me and him." You both go silent for a few moments more. Arthur sighs. "You should come back with me, then, back to my camp. You can't stay here by yourself. If I leave you here, you’ll die, I'm certain of it." You finally break your vacant stare and force yourself to look up at Arthur, confused like you've finally just noticed him there. Before you can answer, he adds "Fair warning, though, we aren’t on the right side of the law. But, we’re better than those other asses I found you with, that's for sure." You sit and ponder his proposal for a moment. What choice do you really have at this point? "OK. If you think that will be alright. Thank you, Mr. Morgan," is all that you can say in reply.

   The two of you travel for the next few hours in silence. You're sitting on the back of the horse, behind Arthur, watching the scenery slowly pass you by. You have no idea where he's taking you, and to be honest, you really don't care at this point. The further away from Rosewood you get, the better as far as you're concerned. Eventually, the sun starts to set and you can feel the temperature starting to drop, the dampness of the coming evening starting to be evident.

   "You doin' OK back there?", Arthur asks, turning his head over his shoulder slightly. "You been pretty quiet for awhile, now." "Mmm Hmm...I'm alright. Just...thinking, I guess." "We should start looking for a place to bed-down for the night," Arthur says. "I'll make sure we're outta sight well enough. You'll be OK as long as you stay close to the fire." "Sure. Whatever you think," you reply simply. You are completely at this man's mercy and you know it. You are not in a position to challenge anything that he suggests, so your intent is to amicably go along with whatever his plan is...within reason, of course.

   Arthur finds a quiet spot tucked along the treeline, facing an open field. The large, thick branches of the trees provide adequate shelter from any weather the two of you may encounter, as well as a screen against anyone who may happen to travel past. Arthur hooks his arm around yours as he easily lowers you to the ground before swinging his own leg over and down. Walking towards the front of Buck, he gently begins to stroke the horse's graceful neck, patting him gently before he looks over at you. "I'll get a fire goin' if you want to pull down the bedroll and blanket and get it all laid out." "OK", you absent-mindedly answer and go about the motions to fulfill the simple instructions he's given you.

   It doesn't take Arthur long to get a nice flame going for the two of you. You sit down on the bedroll that you laid out, warming your hands over the fire, shivering slightly with the chill now coming into the on-coming night air. He effortlessly lifts the saddle and its blanket off of his horse, laying it next to the fire for himself. But before he sits down, Arthur walks over and picks up the blanket that goes with the bedroll and drops it over your shoulders. "Here, keep this around you and stick close to the fire." "Thank you," you say with a slight smile as you pull the fabric closer to you. "I’m gonna go try to find a rabbit or something for us to eat," he informs you. You nod soundlessly in acknowledgement. He then extends his arm out to you, and in his hand is a gun, trying to offer it to you. "Know how to use one of these?" You nod again, but don't move to take it from him. He pauses briefly, as he looks at the gun, then proceeds to set it down next to you on the blanket. When he straightens back up, he looks down at you for a moment. You look so tired, so defeated, causing him to sigh to himself. "I won’t be too far off. You need me, you holler, understand?" "OK." And you watch him turn and walk off into the woods. Your eyes linger on his form until it disappears into the greenery before you pull your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and set your chin upon your knee. You sigh heavily, staring first into the fire, then off into the distance over the meadow, letting your mind begin to unwind itself.

   Arthur manages to find a few rabbits relatively quick, bringing them back to your small camp. He promptly skins and roasts them over the fire, looking over at you every so often. He notices how you keep staring into the flames of the fire, lethargically blinking as if in a trance. But, he leaves you to your thoughts for now. Arthur, of all people, knows the necessity to be in one's own head. As the meat sizzles quietly, he gingerly pulls pieces of it off the stick he's using to cook it on and offers some to you, but you shake your head, declining. "C'mon, you gotta eat somethin'. Ain’t gonna do you no good to get sick on top of everything else," he gently reprimands you. You really have no appetite at all, but you reluctantly take a hunk of the meat from his hand, smiling slightly at him in thanks.

   "So," he says tentatively, as he sets himself down onto the saddle-blanket from his horse. "All this commotion over some accident, huh? What happened? If you don't mind me askin'." You shift your weight a bit as you pull the blanket even tighter around yourself before answering him. "They were blasting a path into the hillside to make room for the new track to be laid out. Apparently the charges weren't laid right. A lot of men were injured. My father and I tried to help as many as we could. Like I said before, my father was the doctor there, I was his assistant and fellow doctor, I guess you could say. Walt's brother, that's the last man you shot, was hurt pretty bad in the explosion. But my father was tending to another man. That man has a family with 4 children, the youngest is barely 2 months old. He is also a black man." You look over at Arthur with a knowing look, to which he rolls his eyes, sighing slightly in annoyance as he gets your meaning. "Walt's brother died before my father could tend to him. So Walt flew into a rage that my father would “let his brother die” over this other man. Well, it just escalated and got worse from there." You pause as you replay it all over again in your mind. "Walt instigated a riot, cornering my father and I. They were beating him, hitting him so hard." You winced at the memory of it. "Next thing I know, we were both running, a group of men on our heels. I actually thought we were going to outrun them. But Walt and his cronies found a way to cut us off. And....well, you know the rest."

   Arthur shakes his head. "Your father sounds like a good man," he offers, looking over at you. "He was the best," you reply with a small grin on your lips. Arthur is in deep thought for moment. "I'm truly sorry for your loss, Miss (Y/L/N)," he says to you. You look at him for a moment or two before dropping your eyes to land on the fire again. "Why are you helping me, Mr. Morgan?" you finally ask him, your voice soft and frail. Arthur breathes in and exhales deeply, now his turn to stare into the fire, thinking. "There are few things that will push me to anger like that. I don’t take kindly to men who beat up on women or children." Arthur's voice is low and steady, absolute. You study his face as he tells you this, his eyes still on the flames in front of him. You obviously don't know him well at all, but you just know that his statement is fact.

   It's dark now and your eyes are suddenly incredibly heavy. Seeing that you are about to fall asleep sitting up, Arthur encourages you to turn in for the night. "You take the blanket and try to get some sleep, alright?" "What about you?," you ask him, concern skipping across your face. "Won't you be cold? How are you going to sleep?" "I’ll just lean back against my saddle here (as he shuffles himself back into the leather, crossing his arms over his chest), pull my hat on down and let the fire keep me warm." "Are you sure?" you ask, not completely convinced. "Oh yeah. Besides, I want you to get some rest, so I’ll be up keeping watch over you 'til morning." Arthur motions with his hand for you to lay down, so you slowly lower yourself down, curling your arm under your head as a pillow. You lay there watching the fire for a bit, observing how the flames dance and pour themselves over the wood buried within. Their patterns are hypnotic and the crackling of the fire is soothing to your nerves. Eventually you glance up to the outlaw sitting a few feet from you, slightly surprised to see that he is already dozing quietly. You watch his chest gently rise and fall with his even breathing. You are now finally able to study him without fear of being caught doing so. He is a rather large, bear-like man, tall and barrel-chested. His beard is rather overgrown and his hair is overdue for a cut. His clothes are stained with dirt, even before he dug your father's grave, so you can only assume he's been out here for awhile. But judging by the calloused hands and how quickly he's fallen asleep, you can only imagine how hard his life must be, regardless of the nature of it, good or bad. And despite the fact that he's fallen asleep before you, you have no doubt that he'll be up again soon enough to keep his word to look after you through the night. So you allow yourself to finally relax and fall into a deep slumber, letting the blissfulness of oblivion overtake you.

   In the morning Arthur is slow to wake. As he feels consciousness wash over him, he stretches his legs out and rolls his neck. An all too familiar popping sound comes from his stiff joints. He groans slightly as he rubs the sore muscles of his neck. Drawing his hand over his face as if in an effort to literally drag the sleep away, he opens his eyes and eventually looks over to the bedroll where you are asleep. But his eyes do not find you there. Confused, he looks around for you. Its still relatively dark out, the sun still yet to rise. A slight panic sets in and he bolts upright. Damn it, he shouldn't have fallen asleep, he tells himself. He stands up, brushing off his jeans and looks about again, turning himself around and stepping away from the treeline towards the meadows behind him. Arthur doesn't get too far when he finally sees you, standing out in the clearing, the blanket pulled around you, watching the sunrise. Arthur sighs in relief, hand over his mouth. Suddenly, he stops his fidgeting for a moment. Why was he so panicked over you just now? You're nothing to him; a stranger he's only known for a few hours. In fact, if he was smart, he'd have taken you to the nearest town and left you there. But for whatever reason, that just didn't occur to him at the time.

   He walks into the clearing, tentatively approaching you, clearing his throat as he gets close to you. When you do not respond to him, he stretches his neck, trying to see your face. You don't move, your eyes fixed on the lightening skyline. It hardly seems like you're even breathing. The darkness is retreating quickly as the sun is now coming over the horizon. The early dawn light falls upon your face, casting it with a warm glow. Flecks of copper from the rising sun are reflecting in your eyes which are vacant, as if focusing on something else altogether. Arthur doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t feel he needs to, actually. And for this you are grateful. You know he is standing there, knew the moment he started towards you. You are grateful for his presence, for his protection and for his understanding for your need for peace and quiet in this moment. And Arthur finds standing quietly with you oddly comforting in return. And then finally you speak.

   "This is my favorite time of day, when its so peaceful. This is the time of day when anything is possible, Mr. Morgan. Good or bad, the day hasn't been decided yet. A blank slate." Your voice is even and quiet, a peaceful tone to it. "This is when everything changes." You continue to stare ahead at the sun, its red and orange hues now spilling over the grasses. Arthur looks at you, pondering your words before he turns his head back to follow the path of your gaze. "For example, you could be a horrible man, Mr. Morgan. No better than those you found me with. Or, you could be the merciful fellow with the beautiful eyes who saved my life and gave me a new one. Anything is possible as of this very moment." You finally turn your face from the horizon and look at him, a calm smile drawn across your lips. He picks up no sense of fear or hesitation from you. In fact, its been a long, long time since anyone looked at him the way you are right now. Kindness, respect? Arthur's chest tightens just a bit at the thought of this. You don't know his horrible background, don't know of all of the terrible things that he's done. You're innocent of his tendencies, and honestly, this makes Arthur nervous. How would you react if you knew who, and what, he truly is? Yet still, there’s something about you that he just can't shake.

   "Look, Miss (Y/L/N)," he starts warily. "I gotta warn you, my gang, we ain’t exactly saints. I’ve done some bad things, evil things, in my life." You look at him for a moment, studying his blue-green eyes and the conflicted emotions harbored there within. "Good and evil, Mr. Morgan, you can’t have one without the other." You cross your arms over your chest, tucking the blanket inwards to ward off the morning chill, and turn to face him directly now. "So tell me, what exactly is it that you and your people do?"

"We rob."

"I see. Is this a 'Robin Hood' situation where you rob the rich and give to the poor?"

"If by 'the poor' you mean us, then yes," he says dryly. And then he looks down at his boots, kicking a bit of dirt with his toe. "But we don’t steal from anyone who can’t afford it."

"And who decides who can afford it?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

"We do."

"I see," you say again, with a smirk.

Suddenly Arthur is slightly embarrassed to admit his lifestyle for some reason, yet at the same time, you don’t make him feel badly about it either. "It’s up to you. You still want to come back to my camp?"  

"You’ll be there with me, right?"

"Sure."

"Then OK."

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

   You sit atop of Arthur's horse, Buck, gingerly setting your hands about his waist so as to not fall off. He doesn't speak much, to your relief. Your mind is both cluttered full, yet void of any coherent thought. You have no idea what your future holds now. You don't know this man that you are riding with, yet trust him enough to leave with him to join his "gang" as he refers to them. Although, what choice do you really have? He gives you the rundown of the dynamics of the group, how they are known as the "Van Der Linde Gang", a collection of misfits and thieves, run by a man named Dutch. He doesn't go into too much specific detail, but you can tell by the way he talks about them that he holds these people close. The whole ride back to his camp, you're mulling the situation over and over again in your head. You're hoping you've made the right decision. When you think about it, if this man was going to kill you, he would've done so already, wouldn't he?

   Its late in the morning at this point, and as you are lost in your own head, you do not notice that you have entered a clearing and start to see evidence of other people. You've arrived. As Arthur's horse saunters into the camp, you look about and notice the inhabitants. Heads turn and eyes are on you, as they are curious about the new arrival. He leads Buck up alongside some other horses and halts. He swings his leg over the front of the saddle and drops down to the ground before he turns back around to face you. He looks up, lifting up his arms, offering you both his hands. You stare back at him for a second, slightly hesitant. He makes a slight motion toward you, letting you know its OK, before you lean forward, allowing him to place his large hands onto your hips as he carefully lifts you down from the saddle. Your feet touch down softly, as Arthur gently places you on the ground. Your own hands linger on his forearms for just a moment, almost afraid to be released from his security, before a modest "thank you" leaves your lips.

   "C'mon. Let's get you settled," he says as he starts to lead you towards the center of the tents and tables. His left arm extends outward in front of you to show you the way, while his right bends to corral you forward. He's careful not to touch you, yet you still feel it is a protective gesture all-around. Arthur's attention lands on a small group of people who are standing off in front of the two of you, deep in conversation. Three of them to be exact.

   As you approach them, you take in their appearances. Two men and a woman, all three clearly older than either of you or Arthur. The oldest of them is a silver-haired gentleman, tall and slender, smartly dressed. He's lean with sharp blue eyes, yet there's a calmness to him. The other man appears to be a bit younger, with black hair, trimmed mustache and an intimidating presence that you can see, even from this distance. You can't make out what he's saying from where you are, but you can hear his voice and its most captivating. The woman he is talking to appears to be about his age, standing with her arms crossed over her chest. She has a harsh demeanor about her, clearly able to hold her own with these two men. Suddenly, you are very nervous and fall behind Arthur's step just a bit, creeping slightly closer to him as if seeking his protection again.

   "Good, you're all together. I need to talk to you 'bout somethin'" Arthur announces as you both approach the small cluster. All three faces turn to look first at Arthur, then to you, before returning back to Arthur in confusion. "What have we here?" asks the dark-haired gentleman, pointing at you with a hand that holds a cigar. "This is Miss Y/L/N," says Arthur gesturing to you. "She's gonna be stayin' with us for a bit. Hope that ain't gonna be a problem." The three of them stare at you for a second, trying to process what has just been told to them. "Miss Y/L/N, this is Hosea," Arthur motions to the silver-haired man, "and Ms. Grimshaw. And this here is Dutch. He's the one runnin' this here show," nodding to the dark-haired man. You smile at them in an attempt of a greeting.

There is an awkward silence and after a few moments, its Ms. Grimshaw who breaks the stillness. "What the hell is this, Arthur? Another mouth to feed?", asks the older woman, clearly annoyed by being caught off-guard and faced with this new challenge presented to her.

Arthur rolls his eyes at her. "We'll just add another cup of water to the soup and we'll all eat," he says. When he realizes that his answer will not satisfy her, he sighs in resignation. "Fine, she can have my ration if that makes you happy.”

"And what about space? I don’t have another tent right now," she complains sharply.

“She can have mine for now.”

"And just where are you going to sleep, then?" she counters quickly, planting her hands firmly on her hips.

"By the fire, like I do when I'm out. Look, what difference does it make?" Arthur bites back. You don't know him that well, but it sounds like he's starting to get annoyed.

"Look, if I may," you interject as you finally find your voice and step up to fully stand next to Arthur now. "I don't want to be a burden to you folks. And, I have no intention of sitting idly by and letting other people take care of me. I certainly want to earn my keep, if you would be so kind as to let me stay here. At least until I figure out what my next step is. I can cook, I can clean, I sew and launder..."

"Can you use a gun?" interrupts Dutch, who has decided to speak. You pause for a moment, looking over at him. "Not to the capacity that you are thinking," you tell him, "but I can hunt. I'm quite good, actually. So I'm not fast, but I am accurate with a gun."

"We can work with that," he says with a smirk, placing his lit cigar into his mouth.

   "But what I think you will find most useful, Mr. Van Der Linde, is that I am a doctor. I'm sure in your line of work, you can see the benefit of that. Most towns don't even have their own doctor, yet you will have one at your fingertips." Dutch raises an eyebrow at you and turns to Hosea. The two men share a look before turning to you with doubt in their eyes. It is not common for women to be in the medical profession so for you to claim to be a doctor is rather hard to believe. You lift your chin up a bit in defiance, tired of having to justify this claim yet again. "My father is...was...a well respected doctor. He was the chief physician at the local hospital back home in the East and also taught at the university. So he started my education at a young age. While most men start their medical training in their 20's, I have been studying medicine since I was 9 years old, and educated by one of the best in the field." Your voice is getting firmer now as you continue, as speaking proudly of your father has you finding your confidence again. "The only thing I don't have is a damn piece of paper that tells you so. So when I tell you that I am a doctor, Mr. Van Der Linde, you had better believe it." Arthur cringes a bit at your brashness. He's not too sure how his people will take to an "outsider" speaking to them in such a manner.

"I already look after the people here," Ms. Grimshaw barks out irritably. "If anyone needs tending to, I take care of it."

   You look over at her now. The two men may be the ones in charge, but its this woman who actually runs the camp itself. You can tell that right away. If you are going to be allowed to stay, you're going to need her on your side. She's the one you need to make nice with. "I don’t want to assume any authority, Ms. Grimshaw, nor do I want to over-step," you try to assure her. "But if I can take some of the burden off of you, specifically the medical care, that could free you up to do the hundreds of other things that I'm sure need your constant attention around here. I can't even begin to imagine what it takes to keep a group like this going, but you've clearly been on top of it," you say turning and looking around the rest of the camp for the first time. "I imagine keeping a group of this caliber together is like herding a box of kittens," you say with a slight smile, looking back to her again. To your relief, Ms. Grimshaw's brows suddenly soften a bit and with a chuckle, she replies "Girl, you have no idea." The men have been silent during this entire exchange between you two, letting Ms. Grimshaw feel this situation out. 'Damn,' Arthur thinks to himself. 'This is some 'Hosea Matthews' style sweet-talking at its best coming from her.' After pondering on you a bit longer, she finally relents, throwing her hand up in defeat. "Alright. If you want her to stay, Arthur, then she's your responsibility."

"Miss Y/L/N, we are not angels here, just so you know," warns Dutch.

As you turn your eyes back to the man, you tilt your head, considering his statement. "No one ever expects an angel to set the world on fire, now do they, Mr Van Der Linde?"

"I like this one," says Hosea, nodding in approval with a smile. Suddenly you feel like a cocker-spaniel puppy that just got adopted.

"We done here, then?" asks Arthur. Dutch lifts his hands up in a surrender motion. "Alright, then," says Arthur before turning to you. "C'mon I'll show you where you'll be stayin'" You nod a "thank you" to the three heads of the camp and turn to follow Arthur. You let out a breath that you didn't realize that you were holding and wring your hands a little to try to get feeling back into them as you now notice they are numb from your nervousness.

   "Well, that went better than I thought it would," he says to you as you walk through the camp. "Really? That went well?" you ask in disbelief. "You're here still ain't you", he counters. Arthur leads you over towards a wagon with a tent pitched over it that is far off in the corner, further away from the others. The tent sides are rolled up so you can see inside as you approach. "Well...uh...this is it,' he says. "It ain't much, but it'll keep you dry and out of the elements." He waives his hand around in an effort to show you about. You look around at his humble surroundings and smile. "Its perfect, thank you," you say to him. "Oh I certainly don't know about that," he chuckles, bringing his hand to rub the back of his neck. All of a sudden, Arthur realizes that, now that he has you here, he's not quite sure what to do with you. Normally Ms. Grimshaw would handle this, but considering the previous exchange, he thinks twice about that. "Listen, sit here and relax a minute. I'll be back." He nods at you, and quickly turns to leave the tent.

   You watch the man walk away, leaving you by yourself for the first time since you left Rosewood, and you suddenly feel very exposed and vulnerable. You walk over to the tent flaps where Arthur was just standing and look out into the rest of the camp. As you watch the inhabitants milling about, occasionally you notice eyes turn your way, causing you to shrink back a bit into the shadows of the tent. Taking a deep and shaky breath, you casually look around Arthur's space. They are simple surroundings, nothing fancy. There's a cot with a single blanket, a trunk set at the foot, and there's a bedside table next to the cot. Walking over to it, you notice a framed photo sitting on top. You pick it up and see that it is of Arthur as a young man. "I'd recognize those eyes anywhere," you chuckle. He is sitting with a beautiful young woman, too. "Hmmm, I wonder who you are, Pretty." Setting the photo back down, your eyes lift to the side of the wagon where Arthur has things pinned to the wood. Walking closer, you notice the photo of him with the other two men you have just met, but all much younger. "So, you've been together a long time, huh? Maybe one is his father?" you wonder out loud. Next to the photo are sketches also pinned to the wagon wall. Images of landscapes, beautifully drawn horses, faces of people who must be important to him. As you look down at the table opposite the cot, you see a few pencils carefully laid out and realize that the sketches must have been done by Arthur himself. Something about that makes you smile to yourself a bit. A few books also lay upon the table, along with maps and ledgers. You slowly walk back over to the cot and lower yourself down onto it, letting your muscles relax and deeply breath in and out again, waiting for Arthur to return.

   In the meantime, Arthur makes his way back through the camp and over to the common tables. There, he finds the person he's been looking for: Abigail. "Hey, Abigail. Got a minute?" The woman turns her head towards the voice calling her name. "Well, hey there Arthur! I heard you have a new friend," she chuckles. "A woman, no less." "Uh, yeah...about that,' he replies awkwardly. "Look, I need your help with somethin'."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, the girl's been through the wringer. She's been roughed up, her clothes torn up a bit. I was wonderin' if you or the other girls had any clothes that you could let her borrow for now?"

"Roughed up? You mean...?"

"Yeah" and he drops his head down, not meeting Abigail's gaze.

"Oh, that's awful. I'm sorry Arthur."

"Don't apologize to me. Didn't happen to me," he shakes his head. "Anyway, I was also hoping maybe you could go talk to her, look after her for a bit, and get her acquainted with things here?"

"Yeah, sure Arthur."  

"Maybe in a day or so, after she gets settled here, one of you girls can take her into town, get her some new clothes?"

"We ain't got extra money for that, Arthur," says Abigail, frowning at him, a little annoyed.

"I'll take care of it, don't worry. I'll give you the money, you just worry about gettin' her there, alright?" he says dismissively. "Besides I think you owe me a favor by now."

"Yeah, probably two or three at this point, I reckon." Abigail sighs, straightening out her skirt absentmindedly with her hands before giving Arthur a small smile of resignation. "Alright, fine. I'll go talk to her." Arthur simply nods in thanks and turns towards Dutch's tent. Now that he's back in camp, and has gotten you looked after, he needs to talk to Dutch about the scout at the Dent house that he was on and turn in the bit of cash and pages from the delivery ledger that he was able to grab.

   Back at Arthur's tent, you're still sitting on the edge of the cot. Leaning over, you hold your face in your hands, exhausted and overwhelmed. With your eyes closed, your welcome the darkness and the calm it brings. The scent of the grass and leaves at your feet, mixed with leather and cigarettes from the tent, fills your nose, keeping you grounded and from fading off entirely. "Hey there." You hear a sweet and friendly voice cut through the void of your mind and you lift your face towards the sound. You see a woman with kind eyes, a button nose, and a sweet smile standing outside and peering into the tent at you. "Oh, hello", you say softly in return. You quickly sit up and straighten out your hair in an effort to make yourself presentable for what, you assume to be, another audition. (To be honest, you're still a little shaky from the last introduction).

   "Arthur's gotten himself tied up already," she informs you. "Not even back an hour, so he asked me to come by and check on you. Said you may need some clothes to wear?" She cocks her head to the side a bit as her eyes roam over you, taking in your appearance. You look down at the shirt of Arthur's that you are still wearing, fisting up the material in your hands as they sit in your lap. You shrug a little. "This shirt is surprisingly comfortable," you say with a chuckle. The woman replies with a laugh of her own. "Yeah, that's because his shirt is ten times too big for you. Its like a dress on you." "Well, I guess I just need a belt and then I'm all fashionable, aren't I?", you giggle.

   The woman enters the tent and casually sits down next to you. As she moves into the tent, you now notice a small boy who has been tucked shyly behind her skirts. "I'm Abigail. This here is Jack." "Nice to meet you both", you say, nodding at Jack. "I'm (Y/N)." Abigail's eyes flit over you now that she's gotten closer, taking in your bruised face and torn skirts. "Arthur told me what happened to you. Damn animals," she says in disgust. "I hope they got what was comin' to them." "Oh yes," you nod slowly. "Mr. Morgan certainly saw to that." "Good. Well, what do you say we go over to the girls' tents and see if we can get you something better than Arthur's old shirt to wear?" Abigail stands up and offers her hand to you, which you gratefully accept. "Thank you", you say with a thankful smile.

   Stepping back out of the tent and into the sunlight, Abigail leads you and Jack across the camp and over to a collection of smaller tents and tables where a group of women are gathered. "Ladies, we have a new arrival in our midst," she announces. "This is (Y/N). She's going to be stayin' with us for a bit. She ain't got nothing but what she's wearin', so I was hoping between the few of us we could spare some clothes for her to borrow until we can get her some of her own." The girls halt their activities and all move their eyes back and forth between Abigail and you. Again, you are a bit self-conscious of being judged, because if these people don't care for you, you have nowhere else to go. But thankfully, the girls all nod in agreement and quickly introduce themselves. You are not the same size as some of them, but in a flurry of activity, they all offer up something for you, whether it is a blouse, skirt, shawl, nightshirt, even hair ribbons and combs. The small pile of items that accumulates on the table brings tears to your eyes. This may be a gang of outlaws and thieves, but they have shown you more compassion than "civilized" folks have back in Rosewood. "I can't thank you enough, ladies, really," you gush to them. "This is truly gracious of you all." "Ah, don't fret about it," says the pretty blonde known as Karen. "We take care of our own around here. Don't you worry." And the next half hour is filled with questions. The girls want to know all about you:  where you're from, what you do, are you married, do you know how to steal, etc, etc. The bonding moment touches your heart as these strangers have instantly taken you in.

   As the conversation dies down, you are sitting next to Abigail, watching Jack as he sits on the ground, poking at some bugs he's found. "He's your son, yes?" you ask. "Yep, that's right. That's my boy," she says proudly. "He's adorable, so happy," you observe. "Yeah. I'm real lucky. I wish I could do more for him, but I do the best that I can," she says, her smile dropping a bit in disappointment. You shake your head Abigail. "I've seen people do half as well with twice as much at their disposal. You have nothing to feel guilty about, Abigail. He's happy, healthy and a bright boy. You should be proud." This makes Abigail smile brightly as she watches Jack. Finally she turns to you. "Thank you for that, (Y/N). I appreciate you sayin' that. Its been hard. I probably would have lost my mind by now if it wasn't for Arthur." This statement gives you pause. "Is Arthur his father?" you ask. Abigail huffs out a laugh. "God, no. But he's helped me out more than Jack's father ever has, I can tell you that." "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that, I guess."

   "That's Jack's father", she says and you look in the direction Abigail is pointing. You see a tall, lean man standing with a group of other men. He's handsome, for sure, and you can see the resemblance, even from a distance. "Are you still together?" you ask. "Honestly, I don't know what we are," she replies. "We were together for awhile before Jack came along. Totally wild for each other, too. But when he found out I was pregnant, he didn't know what he wanted. Said he wasn't fit to be a father. Spooked him and he ended up taking off for almost a year." You could see her face twist up in annoyance, which made you instantly regret bringing up such a sore subject. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," you said quickly. "Oh no, its fine. Not like people around here don't know," she dismisses. "Anyway, John took off for awhile and during that time, Arthur stepped up and watched over me and my baby, helped me out when he could." "That's wonderful of him," you acknowledge. "Well, he and John are like brothers, practically raised together by Hosea and Dutch. So I guess he felt it was his responsibility to his family." This made you think about your new friend, Mr. Morgan. You cast your eyes about the camp until they find and settle on the man. He's over by one of the wagons cleaning his gun. To look at him, he seems most intimidating, almost frightening. He's big and very gruff, doesn't smile much. But your own brief experience, and now this information from Abigail, confirms that there is obviously more to this man than the brutish exterior that he exudes. And almost as if he can feel you eyes on him, suddenly Arthur lifts his head to meet your gaze upon him. You instantly blush and offer a slight smile and small wave of your hand to him. His face almost seems confused, as if he's not sure why you're even looking at him, but he tips his hat to you, a slight smile to his eyes.

   "Eventually John came home and we've been tryin' to make it work," Abigail continues. "I know he wants me, but not too sure how he feels about Jack," she says quietly, not wanting Jack to hear. This statement instantly sets you on the defense. "Oh that's convenient for him, isn't it?" Your face instantly flushes, your eyes burning. "You know, for what its worth, there's a difference in someone who wants you and someone who will do anything to keep you. You remember that. I know I don't know you very well, but I can tell that you are clearly worth more than that half-assed attempt that you're getting." Surprised by your defense of her, Abigail looks at you, seeing your eyebrows pulled in frustration and your mouth twisted up into a scowl. After a few moments, her eyes are glassy, holding back tears of her own. "You really mean that?" she asks softly. "Of course I do! I think love is when two people get together and say 'I really want this' even when its complicated and messy. Maybe John has his own hangups, I get that. But its not fair to put all of the work on you." When Abigail replies with a stunned silence, you cringe, internally cursing yourself and your mouth. "I'm sorry," you say again quickly. "I'm so sorry, I really should mind my own business," as you shamefully cast your eyes down to your feet. "No...its OK. I appreciate it, actually." Abigail turns her face back to Jack, then looks over at John, thinking on what you just said.

   A few hours later, there is a bit of a commotion from the direction of the hitching posts. Two men have ridden into the camp, causing all sorts of racket. One is a slight man, Hispanic, from what you can tell, and the other is a large, burly man, about Arthur's size, maybe bigger. The larger man is holding his arm and wincing as he shuffles around to the front of the horses after he dismounts. A few of the other people from the camp walk over to the two arrivals and you can hear them talking. Eventually, the lot of them turn in your direction, with Dutch pointing at you. A smirk crosses his face as Dutch calls you over. "Miss (Y/L/N), we need your assistance," he says with a wave. "Would you come over here, please?" You get up from the table where you and Abigail are cleaning vegetables for tonight's dinner and quickly walk over.

   "What can I do for you gentlemen?" you ask, looking around the group of faces, lingering on Arthur's familiar face before eyeing up the man holding his arm. The Hispanic man grins and chuckles, "Well, there's a lot you can do for me, miss, if you really want to know", he says as he raises his eyebrows at you. "Hey!" Arthur quickly smacks him across the chest and scowls before you can even counter. "Watch your mouth, Javier. She's new, ain't used to your nonsense yet." Javier shrugs in response. "Sorry, miss" he says, smiling sheepishly. You roll your eyes at him, a slight grin sitting on your lips. "It's alright. We'll deal with it later." Dutch clears his throat to catch your attention. "If you don't mind, Miss (Y/L/N), Mr. Williamson here is in need of medical attention. That is why you're here, isn't it?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at you. This is a test, and you know it. You instantly realize that you have to be careful with how you play this, else you risk being run-out of another situation. "Yes, of course" you answer sweetly.

Turning your attention to the large man, "Hello, Mr. Williamson. What’s the trouble?"

"Can hardly move my arm," the burly man answers you, wincing at the pain radiating from his shoulder down his arm.

"Do you mind telling me what happened?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" asks Ms. Grimshaw, who has come up to stand behind you with her arms crossed. She is clearly not believing in your medical skills and is ready to call you out on any mistake you make.

Sighing quietly to yourself, you look over to face her stern scrutiny. "I'd like to know just how he got injured because that could affect how I treat him," you say, trying to keep your annoyance at bay, as you return your eyes back to the man, waiting for his reply.

"Bar fight," he grunts out. "Wrestling with some guy and fell down some stairs."

"Did you win?"

He smiles at you, "You know it, girl."

You chuckle slightly and nod as you step closer to him, lifting your hands up to gingerly run them along his strong arm and shoulder. Your fingers trace over the muscles, slightly pinching here and there. "Where does the pain start from?"

"My shoulder" he says between gritted teeth as you poke around.

You continue to feel about his shoulder, gently moving his arm slightly to see how the tendons move under your fingertips. "Feels like it’s just dislocated, easy enough to fix, even out here." you smile up at him reassuringly.

"Is it gonna hurt? Fixin' it, I mean?" he tentatively asks you as he shifts his weight nervously. Its actually rather sweet to see such a large man be so skittish.

"Well, yeah. It's not going to tickle, that's for sure. But it will be quick." You pat him gently on the forearm. "Here, sit down." You walk over and grab a chair from one of the nearby tents and sit him down. He looks up at you nervously from the chair. This man has never met you before and suddenly he's supposed to trust you? And this fact is not lost on you, either. You smile at him as you catch his bearded chin in your fingertips and look down into his questioning face. "Don’t worry, Mr Williamson. It’ll be fine. I promise," and you give him a quick wink. He smiles hesitantly at you, not sure if he’s more nervous of what you're about to do, or how you smile at him.  

You bring over another chair and sit down opposite Mr. Williamson. "OK. Just take a nice, deep breath and relax, OK? Just try to relax the muscles in that shoulder and arm, yeah?" You lift up the hand of his injured arm and set it upon your opposite shoulder and place your other hand at the bend of his elbow, pulling it down slightly to square-off the angle of his arm. He flinches a bit with the movements, as everyone else gathers around to watch.

"What's your first name?"

"Bill"

"Well, Bill, we haven't been formally introduced yet. I'm "Y/F&L/N" Just got here to your camp." Bill looks at you in total bewilderment. You know what's going through his head:  'Who the hell are you and what the hell are you talking about right now?!' But the reality is, you're trying to distract him in hopes that he will forget about the pain in his shoulder to allow the tension in his arm to ease up a bit, as that will make manipulating his arm back onto its socket that much easier. As you're talking to Bill, you slowly start to massage the shoulder muscles in an effort get them to relax enough to allow the shoulder to pop back on its own. He's so preoccupied by the feeling of your hand along his shoulder and upper arm and that he doesn't realize that you've slowly started to work his arm open, twisting it from his torso. This tactic of distraction is one that you've seen your father use time and again with his patients. He always was a master at it.

"Alright, I'm going to twist your wrist a bit and then push along the shoulder here to guide the arm back into the socket. On three, yeah?" You check that he's ready and Bill nods to you nervously. "OK then. One…" and you move quickly while Bill is distracted, focused on your counting, popping his arm before he even realizes you've done it. He lets out a sharp yelp and freezes, eyes squeezed shut. After a moment, he opens his eyes and looks at you, “What the hell happened to 'three'?!” You smile in response. "Sorry...how does it feel now, though?" He carefully moves it around. "Shit, that's a hundred times better." he says incredulously.

"Good. Now, don’t go crazy with it. You don’t want the muscle to tighten up too much and get stiff, but try not to move it around too much for a few hours at least. In fact, I'd prefer to put it in a sling, if we have any fabric around here anywhere to fasten one. Oh," and you point your index finger at him, "and no bar fights for awhile." You lay a hand on his good shoulder and give him a slight squeeze for reassurance before standing up. Straightening your skirt a bit as you stand, you look over to Ms. Grimshaw who is still standing with her arms crossed, scrutinizing you. “Satisfied?”

She rolls her eyes a bit at you. "For now," she huffs.

Dutch exchanges a look with Arthur before bringing his cigar up to his mouth with a smile.

As the day is drawing to a close, and the sun has begun to set behind the trees, the men have congregated around one of the fires, drinking beer and talking about everything and nothing. There is a calm atmosphere about the camp and everyone has started to settle. The smell of fresh wood smoking on the fire fills the air as it crackles from the heat of the flames. And, of course, the topic eventually comes to you and they all look over and watch you move about with Abigail and Jack. They're trying not to stare, but then again, you're not even paying attention to them to notice.

"Great, another stray," complains Micah Bell, shaking his head in annoyance.

"I don’t mind her," says Bill. "Seems nice enough. Surely nice enough to look at."

"Eh, if you like that sort of thing," says John dismissively, drawing on his cigarette. "She's kinda mouthy."

"Smells like flowers too." Bill continues.

"Oh, well its nice to know where your priorities are at, Bill," Micah retorts back, rolling his eyes.

Uncle pipes up. "He ain’t wrong. If I was a few years younger or she was a few years older..."

Arthur throws his hand up as he exhales his own smoke from the cigarette that is hanging between his lips. "I’m gonna stop you right there, old man."

"What, are you savin’ her for yourself, Arthur?" asks Javier, raising an eyebrow as he leans out on his knees onto his elbows, eyeing Arthur curiously.

“No. But did you look at her? She ain’t gonna want any of us clowns.” Arthur waves off the lot of them.

   Over at the tables, Abigail notices out of the corner of her eye that the men are all staring at you and talking, like they are staking out some new job, and chuckles, shaking her head. "Idiots" she laughs to herself. "I'm sorry?" you lift your head up from the book you are reading to Jack and look at her, confused. "Oh nothing. Apparently you are the new topic of conversation around here." And she tilts her head over to her right to indicate to the group. You follow her direction to see the collection of eyes on you. Some divert away shyly, others do not. "Oh. Well, they're in for a disappointment. I'm not all that special," you tell her. Her laugh is more of a snort of derision in response. "To them you're a shiny new toy to play with." "I'm not in a mind to 'play' with anyone," you say slightly annoyed at the idea of it. Abigail shakes her head again. "Oh I wouldn't worry about any of them. They'd never get out of line with someone here in camp. Well, except maybe that one, that Micah. Still haven't figured him out yet," she says as her face twists up in slight distaste. "But if anyone tries anything, you just let Arthur know. He'll deal with 'em." You look over to the side again and catch Arthur's eye and smile softly. Just he did earlier, he startles a bit, not expecting you to look over, but he nods to you all the same. And Abigail is right, somehow it does feel a lot safer with him around.

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   You've been in the camp of a few days now when Mary-Beth approaches you and asks you if you'd like to go into town. She says that Mr. Pearson is in need of supplies so a few people are using the opportunity to head in together. "I figured we could get you some new clothes and any other personal things you may need," she offers. "I appreciate the offer, Mary-Beth, really, but I don't have any money for such a thing right now," you reply, slightly embarrassed. "Oh don't trouble yourself about it. Arthur gave us girls some money to help get you set up." "He did?" you ask. "Yep, he sure did," she says with a slight twinkle in her eyes. "Oh. Well, then, I guess its OK," you respond tentatively. "Excellent! This will be fun!" she says excitedly as she wraps her arm around yours and pulls you towards the wagon. As you come to stand by the wagon, waiting for everyone to compile a list to those who are going out, you look around to see if you can find Arthur anywhere. But unfortunately, he is nowhere to be found. "Has anyone seen Mr. Morgan this morning?" you pose the question to the group. "He's already out. Left right after breakfast," informs Mr Pearson, as he goes over the final supply list with Lenny so they can plan the day's events. "Why, what d'ya need?" "Nothing. I just wanted to talk to him real quick is all," you reply. You wanted to thank him for offering the money for you to get some things of your own. "He don't stay put for too long, missy. That man comes and goes faster than the prairie winds around here," says Mr. Pearson dismissively. Oh well, you'll catch up to him later, you suppose.

   The trip into town is peaceful, giving you the opportunity to see what your new surroundings entail. The landscape is beautiful, rolling hills with acres and acres of trees. Its a pleasant day, warm, with the sun in and out of the clouds. You tilt your face up to the sky and let the sun warm your face. The gentle rocking motion of the wagon comforts you. You inhale and exhale deeply as you think over the events of the last few days. You still have a hard time wrapping your brain around your current situation:  your assault, your father so brutally taken from you, and now you are living in refuge with a gang of outlaws. You gaze over at your traveling companions. Mary-Beth is very sweet, hard to believe she is a thief. Although that is probably what makes her so good at it. Same with Tilly. She's adorable and so smart. You can't help but wonder where she'd be if she wasn't with this gang.  Mr. Pearson is driving the wagon, chattering away to anyone who will listen. He is certainly a character. Seems nice enough, though, and definitely committed to his role with the gang. Lenny is riding on his horse alongside the wagon. He's a young man, handsome and very articulate. He seems very pleasant with a good-nature to him. These people are not at all what you'd expect a "gang" to look like. But then again, you haven't crossed them either, and you hope that you never have to.

   The town is pleasant enough, although not much to it. Everyone in your group scatters upon arrival, each with their own agenda. Pearson is heading to the general store, Lenny over to the blacksmith, Tilly apparently has a lead that she is chasing down, which leaves you and Mary-Beth on your own. "Come on, (Y/N), there's a dress shop down the way here," she says as you start to walk down the street. In the boutique, Mary-Beth helps you find a new skirt and blouse, new boots, a brush for your hair and some undergarments. You eye the money that she lays down on the counter to pay for you. You still feel guilty for letting Arthur offer up his money for you. You make it a point in your mind that you must find him the minute he returns to camp to thank him. In fact, since you've arrived in his camp, you really haven't spoken to him too much. You're not sure if he is intentionally keeping a distance from you or if that's just the way of things.

   Back at the camp, Arthur has returned from his morning hunt with some meat for Pearson's wagon. "Just left a bit ago. He took a group into town," Ms. Grimshaw tells him when he huffs that Pearson isn't there to put-up the meat. "Including your girl," she adds with a smart tone. "Ugh...she's not my....nevermind..." he grumbles as he waves her off. Well, if you are in town for the time being, this is a good opportunity to take a nap in his own bed for a bit, he thinks to himself. He's still given you his tent for now until he can procure something else for you. So he heads over to his tent and notices that you have the panels only half drawn back. In fact, they are almost swagged and tied back as if they are curtains welcoming you into a room. By doing so, you've let the fresh air in, yet keep the direct sunlight out, keeping the interior nice and cool. Shaking his head with a "whatever" mumbled to himself, Arthur walks into the tent. And as he does, he looks around, about to set his satchel down, and halts as he suddenly notices how clean and tidy his space is now. His clothes are washed and folded neatly, sitting on the trunk at the foot of his bed. His jackets are not only hung, but brushed of the mud that was caked on them from the last job he ran. The tables are dusted and there are flowers in a cup by the bedside. Arthur walks over to the end-table and picks up the cup, staring at the blossoms for a moment. They are just wildflowers from the edge of camp, but still pretty. They are the ones that he saw you picking with Jack yesterday. A smile comes to Arthur's face at the memory of Jack proudly walking with a fistful of flowers for his momma, you tailing behind him with some of your own in-hand. He carefully sets the cup back down and turns around, heading out of the tent again and back to where he left Ms. Grimshaw.

   Meanwhile, you and Mary-Beth have finished your shopping, and after a few more stops, make your way back to the wagon that Mr. Pearson left parked outside the general store. It looks like you and Mary-Beth are the first to make it back, so you decide to sit and wait for the others. You are sitting on the wagon's steering bench when you notice a man approaching the two of you. He walks with an arrogant swagger, a self-satisfied smile on his face. "Why, good afternoon, ladies," says the man, a bit too friendly for your liking. His eyes run up and down over you as he runs his hand over his mouth, making you extremely uncomfortable.

"Piss off, you," says Mary-Beth. "Keep it movin'"

"Oh, now is that any way to talk to a gentleman, miss?"

"If I see one, I'll let you know," she hisses at him.

The man turns his attention back to you, "What about you, sweetheart? Are you any nicer than your friend here?"

"Nope" you simply reply, trying your best to avoid any further interaction with this person.

"That's a shame," he says stepping closer to you, almost at your feet now. "'cause I could show you are good time. A real...good time." And he reaches out his hand and runs his finger along the top of your boot. Ugh, this man just makes your skin crawl and you can feel your face contort in disgust. But suddenly, the man watches as your body language suddenly changes and your face relents into a smirk.

"You had better move on, like my friend suggested, sir." you say.

"And why would I want to do that, pretty thing?"

"Because I don't appreciate your advances very much."

"Hmmmm....and you think you're going to be able to do something about it?" he sneers, leering at you.

"Me? Oh probably not...But he will." And you nod your head towards something behind the man. And at that moment, the man feels the cold metal of a revolver against the back of his head. The man freezes as the smugness instantly drops from his face. He turns his head slightly but all he can see from this vantage point is the barrel of the gun, the large fist that holds it, and a pair of very angry steel-blue eyes at the end of it. The man turns back to you, and you tilt your head as you speak. "So tell me sir, just what was it that you were going to do with me?" you ask in a  sweetly sarcastic tone. Its now your turn to be smug. "I...uh..." he stammers. "Now, before you answer, I think its only fair to warn you," you start, "that the only thing that my friend here with the gun hates as much as a woman-beater is a liar. So I'm going to ask you again. Just what was it you planned to do with me?" you voice cool and even now. As you pose your question again, the man hears the gun at his head cock back, loading the bullet into the chamber.

"Please, miss, I didn't mean anything by it." The man's face goes pale, his eyes pleading with you now.

"Oh, I think you did." You slowly stand and climb down from the wagon. You bring yourself to stand about a foot in front of the man now, arms crossed and eyes burning with contempt into his. "I suggest that you think very carefully about who you approach and what you say to them from now on," you coldly chide the man. The man nods sharply at you, looking for any possible sign that he is free to leave.  After holding his gaze with your defiant stare, making him sweat it out for a few more moments, you finally look over the man's shoulder and nod to the person behind him. The man hears the hammer of the gun click back and feels it slowly leave the base of his skull. He closes his eyes in relief before opening them, looking at you again. You raise you eyebrows at him, "Go on, then. Go." And you shoo him away with your hand. The man turns abruptly to leave, coming face to face with the person who held the gun to his head moments ago. He gasps as he now realizes just how close he came to getting shot, as the man looming in front of him is very large, very angry and very not amused, staring him down.

   You step up next to Arthur as you both watch the man trip over his own feet to get away from the two of you as quickly as he can. You turn and look up at Arthur. "Well, that was fun," you smile at him. The scowl on his face instantly drops as Arthur looks down at you. "You OK?" he asks, concern on his face. "Yes. I am now, anyway," you sigh. Arthur simply replies with "Hmmmm". "That's the second time you've saved me, Mr. Morgan. You're a pretty useful fella to have around." You raise an eyebrow at him with a smile. "Yeah, that's me: Mr. Useful" he huffs. "Well, better than 'useless', I suppose," you chuckle in response.

   "How did you know we were here, Arthur?" asks Mary-Beth. Arthur breaks his gaze with you and turns back towards the wagon where Mary-Beth is sitting. "Came back into camp shortly after you all left. They said you'd came here to town. I wanted to make sure you didn't run into any trouble." He turns back to you. "Guess its a good thing I did." You slowly let out an exhale, "Well, I'm surely glad you did, Mr. Morgan." And you lay your hand on his forearm and smile in gratitude. Arthur looks down at your hand and then back to your face, and the corners of his mouth turn up into an ever-so-slight smile in return.

    When you get back to camp, you help the others unload the wagon of the supplies and as you collect your own items to head back to the tent, Arthur offers to help carry them for you. You graciously accept his offer and he follows you to his tent. You figure this is a good time to thank him for offering to pay for your things, as he is a more private man and you're sure he would appreciate the one-on-one conversation. But as you both enter the tent, he decides to confront you about the cleaning before you have a chance to say anything. "So I wanted to ask you, did you clean up in here?” He poses the question to you as he sets your packages on the cot. He catches you a bit off guard, as the tone in his voice is almost one of annoyance. "Um... yeah, I...I hope you don’t mind," you say quietly, averting your eyes from his intense stare. "Just wanted to do something to thank you is all." “You don’t need to do any of that," he says slightly perturbed. "You've been bringing me coffee, washin' my clothes and now cleanin' up after me...I didn't bring you here to wait on me.” His reaction leaves you speechless, as you're not really sure what you've done wrong. "I...I'm sorry, did I offend you? I didn't go through your things or anything, I swear." "No, no I'm not offended," he interrupts, waiving his arm around, dismissing the idea of it. He turns about in the tent, pacing slightly, not sure how to give voice to his concerns. "It's just...its been awhile since anyone's looked after me is all," and with that statement, he plants his hands on his hips in frustration. You stand silently not quite sure how to handle this. "Oh...well...," you think a moment on your response to him. "How about this, then:  you look out for me and I’ll look out for you. Deal?" "What?" he asks, totally confused as to what you're suggesting. "You know, if no one is looking after you, and I clearly need someone looking after me, why don't we agree to look after each other?" you ask innocently, your hands fumbling with your fingers nervously. Arthur is looking at you like you have two heads. "Why in God's name would you want to look after me?" You shrug at him. "I don't know. 'Cause we're friends?" He furrows his brows at you this time. "I'm not really one to make friends, Miss (Y/L/N)." This causes you to try to muffle a small giggle, despite the intimidating scowl he is giving you right now. "That may be, Mr. Morgan. Yet, here I am."

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

   At this point, you've been in the Van Der Linde camp for a little over a week. The people have seemed to have taken to you quickly and accepted your presence here. By now, you've returned Arthur's tent to him, as Abigail has offered to let you stay with her and Jack, seeing as John is still keeping his own tent for now. "You sure?" Arthur asked you when you insisted he go back to his own bed to sleep. He was sitting at the table drinking coffee when you approached him about it. "Yes, I'm sure. Thank you for the kind offer, but Abigail says she has room for me and you can't keep sleeping out by the campfires. You really should be up off the cold, damp ground. You need to get your proper rest, seeing as you have so much to do around here." You poured him another cup of coffee and sat yourself down opposite him with a cup of your own. The gesture had thrown Arthur a little. He's not used to someone putting his comfort first, but the stiffness in his joints didn't let him argue too much. "Alright, if you're sure. I'm glad to see you gettin' on so well here, then." He casually strikes a match along the tabletop to light a cigarette. "So far, so good, it seems," you admit. "The girls have been very kind, and Jack is excited to have a new friend", you laughed. "Although, I'm still working on Ms. Grimshaw. She's going to be a tough one to crack," you say as you tap your finger on the table for emphasis. Arthur let out a gruff chuckle at your comment. "Yeah, well good luck with that one. I've known her for years and I'm still working on it myself." "Great," you replied, rolling your eyes.

   And its been a bit of an exhausting week, too, as Ms. Grimshaw is really putting you to work. The camp chores are usually divided up, yet Ms. Grimshaw has you either doing or assisting with each and every task. Whether it is washing clothes, chopping vegetables for meals, feeding and watering the horses, sweeping out the tents and wagons, she always finds something for you to do. She's even gone so far as to send you out with Mr. Smith to hunt. Honestly, you didn't mind hunting with Charles, though. It gave you a chance to get out of the camp, and Charles is a very pleasant fellow. He even said he'd teach you to track, too. But with Ms. Grimshaw, it is a matter of pride, a game of wills, between the two of you at this point, so you do not dare complain. But truth be told, its getting to be too much. Even the other people in the camp are starting to notice that you never sit still, ever.  

   At the moment, you are carrying two heavy water buckets for the laundry washing, one in each hand. As you walk through the camp from the creek, suddenly the handle snaps on one of the buckets, sending it crashing to the ground, splashing and drenching you with water. You let out a sharp yelp and freeze, blinking out the water that is dripping from your hair and into your eyes. "Damn it!" you yell to yourself and toss the other bucket in anger to the ground as well. You close your eyes, tilting your head back in frustration, and sigh deeply, hands firmly planted on your hips. "Shit," you mutter another profanity to yourself when you realize that you do not have any other dry clothes to wear. You only own a few pieces of clothing and they are all on the line drying right now. Trying to figure out what to do, you notice the same shirt that Arthur gave you the day he found you folded and sitting on the top of the clean pile of clothes. Sighing, you snatch it up from the pile and, ducking behind one of the wagons, you quickly exchange your own soaked shirt for Arthur's dry one.

   It isn't too long afterward that Arthur comes around the corner of the wagon from where he's been chopping firewood, with a bundle in his arms, when he almost runs right into you. Startling you, you jump back with a loud gasp. "Woa, watch where you're goin’," he rattles off to you in a huff, not paying attention. But then he pauses, looking down and noticing your clothing. "Wait, are you wearing my shirt?" he asks, his face confused. At this point, you are just so overwhelmed and frustrated that you say nothing in response, but just start to cry. Arthur's eyes shoot open as he panics, afraid he's upset you. "No, no, no, don’t cry! It's OK!" He drops the bundle of firewood he has and places his hands on your arms, trying to get you to calm down as your breath is broken, your eyes glossy and your lip quivering. "Hey...Hey...its alright, you can keep the shirt if you want it that badly," he pleads. He hates seeing a woman cry. Its so unsettling to his nerves. Feeling quite embarrassed, you try to pull it together, attempting desperately to stop crying, as you take deep breaths. "I'm sorry," you shake your head. "Its just been..." "Too much?" he offers when you can't even finish your thought. You simply nod quickly in response, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand. Arthur sighs, thinking a moment. "OK, come with me." And he turns, tilting his head to the treeline of the camp before he starts to walk away. You stand there momentarily, not sure what he's doing, but proceed to follow him, rushing a bit to catch up and keep in stride with him. "Where are we going?" you ask. "You'll see," he replies, offering no other details.

   The two of you take a walk out of camp and along the creek-line. "Grimshaw's got you runnin' pretty ragged, huh?" he asks you. "Yeah," you reply wearily. "You want me to talk to her?" he offers. "No. No offense, but I don't want to make it worse." You pause for a few moments. "No, this is just a test to see how far she can push. At least, I hope that's what's happening," you guess. "Well, she is hard on everyone, that's for sure. But she does seem to be on your ass quite a bit," he admits. Arthur knows first hand how harsh Ms. Grimshaw can be. And he knows full well he's delivered you to a wolf by bringing you here. He can only hope that you can withstand her wrath. But so far you have done nothing but impress Arthur, so he doesn't have much doubt in your enduring strength.

   After about fifteen minutes, you get to a point where the path you are walking starts to incline. The ground is becoming more craggy and rugged, changing from the green of the woods and hills to a more rocky terrain.  "Mr. Morgan, where are we going?" you push, almost a whine in your voice. "Just trust me," he answers and continues to lead the way up the hill. After climbing another ten minutes, you reach the top of the hill and see where there is an opening in the rock-face. It almost looks like a doorway. Arthur leads you over to it and pauses, turning back over his shoulder at you before he grins and walks through it. Rolling your eyes in annoyance, you follow him. When you walk forward, you see that the rock-face opens up to reveal a grand view of the entire hillside below you. You hadn't noticed the steady incline as you were walking, but now, you are on higher ground and looking down and out over the great expanse of the meadows beneath you. From this view, the countryside seems to go on and on forever. And what adds to the breathtaking view, is that the sun is starting its decent for the day. It hangs low, a huge red ball hovering in the sky, bright hues of gold, orange and red cascading over everything.  

   You stand there in stunned silence, taking in the scenery around you which instantly puts you at ease and calms your nerves. Your jaw drops slightly in awe of the view, making you forget any of the previous aggravations. Arthur says nothing, but slowly walks over to the edge of the drop-off and sits, his legs dangling over the side. Staring at his back for a second, you eventually move to join him, slowly lowering yourself down to the ground next to him.

   "It's not the 'blank slate of the early dawn' that you like so much," he says with a slight flourish of his hand '...but I think its still pretty nice," his voice is quiet and contemplative as he tilts his head in emphasis, staring out straight ahead before he turns to look at you out of the corner of his eye. His statement makes you grin. You both sit quietly for a few moments before you ask him "How did you find this place?" He inhales deeply, thinking about his answer. "Oh, wanderin' 'round. Actually, I come here a lot, you know, when I need to clear my head and all." You curl your lips into an understanding smirk and nod in agreement. "Do me a favor, would ya?" he asks. "Don't tell anyone about this place. Its kinda 'my spot'. Well, I suppose now its your spot too," he chuckles. At this you actually start to giggle. "OK, deal. Thank you for bringing me here, Mr. Morgan." "Sure. Its like you told me the other day: you look out for me and I'll look out for you, right?" You both turn and look to each other now, smiling. "Right..." you answer, before you both turn back towards the skyline.

...and that is when everything changed...

[weakforarwen]

Regarding 1x3, Gaius shows the afanc’s shell to Uther which bears Nimueh’s mark, hence Nimueh was responsible for the plague. But I get your point - it doesn’t prove that Gwen didn’t use magic to cure her father. Another plot hole for the books! This show is just riddled with them. OTOH the growth of Gwen’s character between this episode and 3x10 is evident - when she is accused in this episode she is terrified, begging for her life but in 3x10 she stays calm & even talks back to Uther!

Right, that's true! But, like you said, that doesn't explain why Gwen was pardoned or proven innocent of witchcraft.

Watching season 1, it's surprising how much Gwen changes! There's a huge difference between Gwen at the start of the season, and, for example, in The Moment of Truth. It's like night and day. She's much more outspoken and confident, enough to tell Arthur off twice! In the beginning of season 2, she's even more confident of herself but still a bit unsure because she's "only" a servant. She's so cool and collected around Arthur though, more than he.

However, by the end of season 3, Gwen's no longer insecure and carries herself quite differently. She's cooler, sharper. I think this is mostly a consequence of her being secure in her relationship with Arthur and of her newfound purpose in life. She knows Arthur loves her and has hopes that they'll one day marry. She used to be insecure about being a servant, who couldn't possibly compare to a princess, but Arthur's love, and the fact that he chose her over Elena and his father, helped her feel more confident and comfortable with herself. Feeling secure in a relationship and in your role in life increases your self-confidence, right?

And so does overcoming difficulties. Gwen survived Morgana and Uther's hatred. She felt hope, not only for herself and Arthur, but for Camelot. I think Gwen finally felt like she had an important part to play and a way to fulfil her hopes for a better Camelot, and that was to support Arthur and make sure he became the King they all needed.

You're right about how brave Gwen was in Queen of Hearts. Like Merlin, I think Gwen found something bigger than herself to believe in: Arthur. She believed in his destiny to make Camelot a fair and just Kindgom, and she believed in the love they shared, bigger than Uther could ever hope to comprehend and which would outlast his hatred and fear. That's why Gwen was strong in the face of death. Her love for Arthur and Camelot were bigger than her love for herself. She knew one day Uther would fall but Arthur would triumph and avenge her death by being better than his father.

But I don't think Arthur was the only influence in Gwen's life! I think he was the biggest due to the nature of their relationship, but certainly not the only one.

There was Morgana, who first showed Gwen that a noble could care for their servants and treat them equally. Morgana was an admirable person in the beginning, much more humble and outspoken, and kinder and braver, than Arthur was. Their friendship and her character were proof that the nobility didn't need to act superior to the commoners and that not all royals were like Uther. Morgana was once Gwen's biggest champion.

There was Lancelot, who she wanted to become a knight because she believed Camelot needed normal people like him, and not just Arthur and his men. Lancelot also believed that dying for Gwen would be a most honorable death, even though she was "only" a servant. Gwen thought he stood for all that was good in the world. He showed Gwen that people could be pure of heart.

Then, there was Merlin, who was a servant like her, yet always stood up for what he believed in, broke laws and defied conventions, and was so influential with Arthur. He showed her a servant could do great things and Gwen relied on him to save the day, or just Arthur, many times.

Also, honorable mention to Gaius. She was his assistant during some of Camelot's battles so she was able to contribute to the safety and wellbeing of Camelot in that way.

So yeah, all these people were part of Gwen's journey!

Thanks for the ask!