#Completely separate from how well Beth managed to WRITE them they would at least be THERE instead of empty nothingburgers we received

[media-illiterate]

Honestly its almost impressive how they managed to hit the exactly worst compromise between "Blank slate you can project wildly onto" and "Established character with a fleshed out backstory and personality".

an extended intro fo4 mod could be kinda cool. like a little quest in the neighborhood. that's an idea

[dinfeanoriel]

Ghoul Rats and Gibdos

Boy, how I’ve missed writing! Hope you guys enjoy this 5k+ fic I’ve had laying around for months... ~~~~~

I swear to Hylia, if I’ve gone blind…

This was the first thought to filter across Twilight’s muddled mind when he cracked open to pitch blackness. There was no light, no glow, no luminescence of any kind to be found. It was as if the Ordonian had awoken to find himself trapped in a void. A place completely enshrouded by darkness. 

Tell me we did not switch while I was sleeping...

There was no answer save for the silence. Not a voice was to be heard, not a rustle, nor a breeze. Only the absence of sound. 

The Ranch Hand frowned starkly to himself. The absolute stillness and nothingness unsettled him. It reminded him of his time in Arbiter's Grounds- a time he would rather forget. 

Wonderful. How am I supposed to figure out where I am? 

He supposed he could light his lantern but there was no telling if any enemies were nearby. He didn’t want to risk being ambushed if there happened to be a band of Bokoblins or Moblins somewhere close. It wouldn’t do to fend off Dark Link’s infected enemies alone.

He strained his ears, going as far as to extend his senses but couldn’t detect a single sound or presence. With a sinking heart, Twilight came to the grim conclusion that the group must have been separated else the noise would have been plentiful. A welcome distraction from the inky darkness enshrouding him. He could not hear a single, comforting, heartbeat or calm, steady, breathing. He was alone with only the silence for company and no way of knowing whether or not his companions were safe and sound. 

Twilight suppressed the urge to growl. 

Displeasure mingled with worry welled in his chest. There were vague reminders of the time the children of Ordon had been abducted from their homes he couldn’t ignore. For weeks, Twilight hadn’t known whether or not Beth, Talo, Malo, and Colin were alive. Weeks he suffered and wallowed in uncertainty and fear for their lives yet he valiantly pressed on. He stalwartly refused to believe they were dead. 

 It was by chance he’d found them in Kakariko, virtually unharmed but not unaffected by the traumatic experience. Since then, Twilight found himself reluctant to allow anyone out of sight. He’d grown especially protective of the group of Links, keeping a watchful eye on every Hero and tracking where they went. 

It was a habit he couldn’t bring himself to break. An instinctive urge of his he knew grated on some of their nerves but he refused to explain himself. Wild had once tried to ask the reason behind his fierce vigilance only to receive an ambiguous response. The younger Hero merely shrugged it off and let his mentor do as he pleased. 

Twilight grit his teeth together, shoving the dark memories into the furthest corner of his mind. It wouldn’t do for him to linger on them. Three years had passed since that dreadful day and, yet, the experience stubbornly clung to him, refusing to relinquish its grasp. 

He shook his head, inwardly barking at himself to focus. 

Find the others. 

That was his singlemost priority as of this moment. 

A quiet hiss and soft, measured, footsteps from behind broke into Twilight’s thoughts, disproving his aforementioned belief of being alone. With bared teeth, Twilight spun on his heel, ready to attack should the unknown entity prove to be a foe. He instinctively moved to grip the handle of the Ordon sword, poised to unsheathe the blade and strike, but something stilled his hand. His senses weren’t warning him of any danger and he sensed no evil lurking around. He didn’t feel the least bit threatened by this presence. 

His hand slipped from the sword, moving instead to draw his lantern free from his pack. 

The chainlinks of the metal contraption clinked ominously and the ambient, red-orange, candle flared to life. The glow chased away the darkness and allowed Twilight to see- 

“Gah!” “Ah!” 

Two startled cries pierced the foreboding silence. 

Twilight’s heart thundered in his chest, beating a mile a minute as it struggled to overcome the sudden spike of undiluted fear that had seized it whole. He’d been given the scare of his life when the light of the lantern revealed something green and blue standing directly across from him. 

“Hylia’s Grace, Twilight!” Warrior breathed, his voice a pitch higher than normal. The Knight had a hand pressed to his chest, cobalt blues wide with an echo of shock and startlement. “I thought you were a poe!” Twilight, still recovering from his own fright, snapped back just as fraily, “I thought you were a Bokoblin!” 

The look of incredulity and affrontement stealing across Warrior’s features would have been amusing had both not been reeling and fighting to compose themselves. “A Bokoblin?” Warrior repeated sourly, “Really?” 

“What else was I to think?!” “Do Bokoblins wear scarves, Twilight?” The Captain flicked his scarf in emphasis, entirely deadpan in both looks and tone. Twilight defended himself, “You came out of nowhere, Warrior! All I saw was green and blue-” “-And all I heard was the clinking of your lantern!” 

The bickering died down, granting the Ordonian and Captain a moment to recover and collect themselves. The lantern swayed in place, basking them in a warm glow and keeping the darkness at bay. 

“Pretty sure I lost ten years of my life in a single second…” Twilight’s sharp hearing caught Warrior’s murmur. He snorted softly to himself and with a shake of his head, straightened his back and shoulders with a deep exhale. 

“Let’s find a way out of here.” The sooner they were out of the dreadful place the better. 

Warrior followed suit, “Let’s.” 

Slipping alongside the Captain, Twilight held his lantern up to illuminate their path. The Ranch Hand found himself glad for the company. He was reassured upon seeing Warrior unscathed. The blond did not appear the least bit frazzled or disgruntled by the sudden shift. He was calm and collected, taking the abrupt switch in stride and Twilight commended Warrior’s ability to remain level-headed and composed especially under duress. 

The more the Ordonian mulled on it, the more he realized he’d never seen Warrior crack when pressure was high or when circumstances were dire. He marveled at it and wondered if his capability to remain poised and unruffled stemmed from the wars he’d fought.

Together, they followed the tiled path leading across the sandy depths. Twilight suppressed a shudder. This place was increasingly similar to Arbiter’s Grounds. The darkened chamber, the broken and cracked tiles, the neverending sand, and the hollow and ruinous atmosphere… He half-expected stalchildren to unbury themselves and come swarming them with their minuscule spears. Arbiter’s Grounds had been a grisly and gruesome shock to Twilight. The tarnished history of Hyrule brought to life and accentuated the further he’d traversed into the desolate and ghastly dungeon. The heinous crimes committed there...the wretchedness and sufferings of the Gerudo prisoners...The tortured souls...the air of devastating despair and anguish and hopelessness capable of stealing his own living breath... It was not difficult for Twilight to understand what had taken place during the Gerudo-Hylian war. It was painstakingly, earth-shatteringly, clear and vivid. The unimaginable atrocities and horrors sickened him. Twilight persevered to the end of the daunting dungeon through sheer will and determination alone. Midna’s companionship helped. Had he been left on his own, Twilight wasn’t sure he would have managed to endure the vile and tragic environment. At times he swore he could hear the cries of the dead… 

The echoes of terrified, disconsolate, screams ringing in his ears and heart-rending wails piercing the still silence. Sometimes, he thought he caught glimpses of mutilated and deformed spirits floating listlessly and purposelessly, waiting to be released from their tormented state.  

The atmosphere was heavy with grief, wallowing despair, endless cruelty, and malevolence. 

“Oh, look!” Warrior’s voice drew Twilight from his dark thoughts and his keen eyes were quick to follow the direction he was pointing, “A door!” 

A locked door, they soon discovered. 

Blades hissed as swords were unsheathed and the two Heroes pressed their backs to one another, waiting. Twilight found their reaction to be a little saddening although he couldn’t deny his gladness for the distraction. After all, locked doors told of something to come. 

For a long anticipatory moment, both stood unmoving and weapons extended. Nothing happened. “What’s taking so long?” Twilight muttered, loud enough for Warrior to hear. The Captain surveyed the old, archaic chamber as best he could given the limited light. “I see torches there,” He said with a jut of his chin, “I’m guessing they need to be lit.” 

Twilight did so with a couple well-aimed swings. “I hate this part,” He groused to himself, earning a hum of agreeance from his companion. He wanted to be free of this place. He wanted to escape and never look back. He stepped closer to Warrior, ensuring little distance existed between them. The Knight took note of his movement but refrained from remarking on it. Instead, he adapted to the change in position and turned his body so he stood next to the Ordonian. 

Nothing prepared them for what took place next.

A deafening sound erupted from the furthermost wall. The chamber shook and groaned as intense tremors racked the foundation of the old depths. The ground and ceiling quaked violently, showering them with loose rocks and debris. Twilight and Warrior stumbled when the earth then wrenched beneath their feet, arms flailing uselessly as they strove vainly to maintain their balance. The world around them crashed and crumbled. 

The room fell apart. 

The ceiling caved, the walls collapsed, and the floor began to gyrate. 

Instant regret is what Twilight would identify the feelings coursing through him as. He grit his teeth together, expression hardening and growing fierce. “This is not what I imagined would happen!” Warrior’s voice was hardly audible over the chaos taking place around them. It was thanks to his heightened hearing Twilight was able to hear him. “What is going on?” 

Twilight had a sinking feeling he knew. He’d experienced this before. The severe and discomforting sense of déjà vu was so potent it momentarily threw him off-kilter. “Whatever you do, stay off the sand-” He started to holler, words drowned out and unable to reach Warrior through the pervading cacophony of sounds. The sands of the dungeon-like chamber started to drain, the tiles disappearing into its gulphs. “What?” 

It was this moment- this single split second- in which everything spiraled out of control. Warrior staggered back and off the stone ledge. His boot was immediately swallowed up by the thick, coiling, sand. Twilight could pinpoint the exact instant Warrior realized his costly mistake. The look on his face...the widening of his eyes… Twilight made a desperate lunge for his friend, an alarmed cry tearing from his throat, and arm extended in the hopes of snatching him back to safety- “Warrior!” 

The Captain’s back slammed into the sinking sand. 

I shouldn’t have lit the torches

The excruciating thought racked Twilight’s mind, body, and soul as he watched the sand engulf the Hero’s lower half and shoulders. The Ordonian snapped his hand out, curling his fingers tenaciously and yanking Warrior’s wrist. With nothing save but brute strength, Twilight combatted the might of the subsiding sands and succeeded in tearing Warrior partway free. His head, shoulders, and midriff were visible but it wasn’t enough to appease the horror-stricken and determined Hero. Cobalt blues locked onto cerulean and Twilight grimaced as his arm shook from exertion. The strength of the submerging sand forcefully pulling and tugging Warrior towards the center caused his muscles to scream in protest. He refused to relent. “Get out of here, Twilight!” Warrior shouted, earnest and concerned for the safety of his companion and friend. He recognized the dangers. He knew Twilight was risking his life trying to pull him to safety. 

Twilight despised the intrepidity etched into the Captain’s features. His eyes shone, fearless and bold in the face of certain death. Stubbornly, Twilight ignored Warrior’s urgings and bent forward to grasp Warrior’s forearm with his free hand. He leant back on his heels, hauling with all his might. The old, frail and rotting tiles beneath his feet splintered, cracks webbing across and bits of stone disintegrating. 

Pain flashed briefly across Warrior’s face then vanished. He grew more insistent, bellowing and shouting but Twilight couldn’t hear what he was saying. The thunderous roar of the chamber collapsing into itself filled his ears and when the tiles beneath him gave way under the strain, Twilight and Warrior were plunged into the whirling sands. 

Twilight was immersed in complete darkness. He sealed his lips and screwed his eyes shut as his body twisted and turned, prey to the sinking sands. He clung fast to Warrior, never relinquishing his grasp. 

The sands drained, drowning them in its unforgiving depths when suddenly, the disorienting whirling, tossing, and turning stalled and the world froze. Twilight felt gravity take its toll soon afterwards. His back crashed onto solid ground, his breath escaping him with a wheeze, and Warrior’s body tumbled atop him. 

Twilight’s mouth opened in a silent, breathless, gasp. No air left or entered his screaming lungs. The reservoir was completely depleted and a surge of panic ensnared him. 

Sand filtered around them, spilling into the room they’d been unceremoniously discarded into. 

Warrior was the first to recover, his fall having been softened by the unfortunate Twilight. His shock was cast aside as the Knight rolled and scrambled to his hands and knees. His attention was solely on his winded and wide-eyed rescuer. “Twilight!” 

Hands grasped his shoulders, Warrior’s face obscuring his vision of the rough-textured ceiling as the Knight spoke speedily and urgently to him. Twilight understood not a word. Warrior’s expression hardened with steely resolve. The Captain disappeared from view. A strong arm wound around his chest a second later and the Ordonian was effortlessly hauled to safety as the discharge of sand continued to flood the room.

At long last, the ability to breathe was granted to him and Twilight greedily sucked in a huge breath. “Sweet mother of breathing-” 

Warrior slumped with relief, plopping back onto the ground with a shaky exhale. 

The Ordonian remained collapsed against him, dropping his head back and shutting his eyes. 

Warrior was alive. They were alive. Neither of them had died. 

When next he looked, he found the Captain taking in their newfound surroundings with a critical eye before he turned and scrutinized Twilight’s prone form with a creased brow. When the Ordonian grimaced and tried to sit up, Warrior swiftly moved to help. He curled an arm around Twilight’s shoulder, lifting him with ease.  “That was a rough landing,” You don’t say, Twilight grumbled sassily. 

“You’re not hurt are you?” A thread of concern seeped into Warrior’s tone when the Ordonian remained seated. Twilight was simply relishing in his ability to breathe again. With a belated shake of his head, Twilight responded, “A little banged up and bruised,” He took another breath, “But other than that, I’m fine.” The answer satisfied Warrior. “Good to know.” Something in his tone alerted Twilight and the Hylian-turned-wolf studied the Captain in the corner of his eye. “What is it?” He muttered quietly. Warrior pursed his lips, gaze flickering to the far wall. The chamber they were in was brighter than the last with lit torches casting an eerie ambience. 

A chill raced down Twilight’s spine. A sense of wrongness, a deep thrum of warning, crawled along his skin. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, his inner wolf growling. “I don’t think we’re alone.” The foreboding words gravely spoken by the Captain urged Twilight to reach out with his senses once more. He closed his eyes, calling on his wolf spirit to aid him in an in-depth search of the room. A growl rumbled in Twilight’s chest and up to the back of his throat when he detected movement. His ears twitched, eyes narrowing dangerously in the direction Warrior was staring intently in. Warrior flashed him a quick, bemused, glance. “Tell me that was you.” “And if it wasn’t?” Twilight coyly replied. Warrior’s expression flat-lined. “Not funny.” His ears twitched again and Twilight sharply raised a hand in a gesture for silence. Warrior clicked his jaw shut. The Ordonian focused on the subtle sound he’d caught, trying to ascertain the cause of it and determine whether or not it was a threat. He ignored the steady beating of Warrior’s heart and his quiet, even, breathing, forcing them into the background. Something is in that room, Twilight signed. 

Warrior snapped to attention. Drawing his left up, he demanded to know, Threat? 

Without a doubt. Plan? 

Warrior pondered for a moment, perusing their limited options. With no knowledge of what to expect or what anomaly Twilight sensed could potentially be, there were few reliable plans to rely on. 

 Right approach. I’ll take left. 

The two separated into their designated directions, weapons drawn and ready. They crept silently towards the wall. Their eyes met the moment their backs touched the coarse bricks. 

Secret chamber. 

Opening? 

They needn’t look far. Warrior pressed against the wall and a protruding brick was slid back into place. 

The locks and gears of an unseen mechanism started to turn, grinding against one another with a resounding groan. 

Found it. 

Twilight suppressed a snort. 

You don’t say. It’s funny how sarcasm and sass could translate so blatantly clear in their use of sign. 

The entrance to the hidden room was revealed when a part of the wall jerked and coasted open. Dust trickled down on the waiting Heroes. 

Warrior took the first glance into the section. “Gibdos!” “You have got to be kidding…” If there was anything Twilight detested more than the disturbing, mutilated, and terrifying Poes in Arbiter’s Grounds, it was the rotten, bandage-wrapped, limping Gibdos. Their manner of walk, the dragging of their sword, their chilling screams capable of freezing one to the core, was something he could not forget so easily. 

The look on Warrior’s face was difficult for Twilight to interpret but he could recognize the horrified remembrance etched into his tense features. 

“Yours, then?” Twilight asked, risking a peek into the dank, musty, chamber. His nose crinkled from the nauseating scent of death and decay. His fierce eyes fell upon the bony, decrepit figure swathed in bandages and his brow creased. “No, mine.” Warrior spared him a sharp glance, “They’re from your world?” Twilight cocked an eyebrow, “You recognize them?” 

“How could I forget?” Warrior muttered in reply. Twilight shared the unspoken sentiment. 

A terrifying, blood-curdling, screech pierced the silence, cutting sharply into their exchange. The two Heroes pivoted around to discover three skeletal Gibdos gimping towards them. Deformed faces with gaping mouths, broken and distended jaws, and scarred or absent eyes, drew closer. “I’m beginning to believe your world is the most terrifying, Twilight,” Warrior remarked uneasily, shuffling closer to the Ordonian, “And I have yet to visit it. On to more important matters, we need to take these guys down. The three are in close proximity to one another, so-” “Range attacks.” 

Warrior blinked at the abrupt interruption. 

“What?” Twilight took a few steps backwards, features contorted with disgust and unease, “I usually attacked from a safe distance away. Bomb arrows.” He gestured vaguely to his pack. “You…” The corner of Warrior’s lips twitched upwards in repressed mirth. His eyes practically shown with amusement. Twilight narrowed his own with a small snarl, “Careful, or I will leave you to them.” 

Warrior bit his lower lip to keep from smiling. He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, 

“Right, right. Sorry.” A snicker escaped before he could quell it. “By Hylia’s Grace, War-” 

“I’m sorry!” 

Twilight’s senses told him the Captain was completely unrepentant. A laugh broke loose. 

“You’re on your own.” 

“Hey! Get back here, mutt!”  ~~~~~

“So...How was it?” Twilight asked minutes later when an exasperated, adrenaline-filled, and mirthless Warrior stalked his way. 

“Absolutely wonderful,” Warrior deadpanned, “The thrill of battle, the adrenaline racing through my veins, and the song composed by swords and discordant shrieks was lovely. You should try it sometimes.” 

Twilight couldn’t suppress his grin. “In fact, why don’t you? I handled two of them. You’ll be fine with one, right?” Without giving the incredulous Twilight a chance to respond, Warrior plopped down on the ground beside him and slumped against the wall with his eyes closed and hands casually folded behind his head, “Good. I’ve done my share. It’s only fair you do yours.” 

“What?” 

Warrior peeked an eye open to find Twilight searching thoroughly for the remaining Gibdo. He released a small laugh, “I got rid of all three, Twi.” 

Twilight stilled, then, with agonizing slowness, turned to fix Warrior with a venomous glare. 

The Knight was unfazed. 

Twilight stewed in indignant silence. He utilized the time the Captain used to rest and regain his strength to think of ways to seek vengeance. 

“Alright,” The Captain grunted, moving to stand, “We should probably get a move on. There’s no telling where the others might be.” 

Twilight followed after him. He didn’t spare the dead Gibdos a single glance. 

“Not a fan of them, I take it?” Warrior teased lightly, nudging Twilight with his elbow. Twilight’s lips furled. 

“They are absolutely wretched. Their screams, their walk, the way they freeze you in place then jump and latch onto you-” Warrior abruptly stopped. 

“They what?” Twilight paused, turning slightly to find the Knight looking vaguely ill. 

“They latch onto you..? And...strangle you…” He trailed off at the glimmer of horror stealing across Warrior’s calm features.

“They do?!” The Knight slid a hand up to his neck, horrified. “Is that why they scream when they come close?” “...yes? It makes it easier for them if you are paralyzed and unable to move.” 

Understanding dawned on Warrior and he turned to shoot Twilight a penitent look. “That’s why you hate them so much.” 

Warrior looked horrified enough, Twilight figured, and so the Ordonian did not expound on how exactly the Redeads would fasten onto their victims. He spared the Knight the disturbing details. 

~~~~~

“I don’t like this.” 

The quiet-spoken words gently broke the eerie silence of the chamber Warrior and Twilight had stepped into. Yet another door leading to nothing but a dank, empty, and eerie room with chains, broken tiles, and vases. 

Twilight’s inner wolf huffed, shrinking into itself. Another intense wave of déjà vu washed over him and the Ranch Hand stifled a world-weary sigh. 

Something was wrong with this chamber. He could sense it. 

“There’s a door on the other side.” “Of course there is,” Twilight groused, rolling his head back to give the ceiling his best woe-is-me look. He dropped his chin forward and pursed his lips, “Should we dare to cross..?” 

Warrior hummed. With a small shrug, the Captain murmured, “We might as well go for it. How else will we find a way out?” “If we find a way out.” “Come now, Twi,” Warrior drawled, amusement seeping into his tone, “Have some faith!” 

“In what? You?” 

“Ouch. Felt that one.” Warrior slapped a hand over his heart with a look of mock hurt. He dropped his arm with a growing smile, “This is a first. I don’t think I have ever seen you so antsy before.” 

Twilight shot him a side-eyed glare but reluctantly followed after the Captain when Warrior started to make his way across. 

If Warrior’s strides were noticeably faster than usual, Twilight didn’t remark on it. It let him know he wasn’t the only one affected by whatever place they were trapped within. 

Keen, cobalt blues searched the hollow chamber endlessly. Twilight would not allow himself to be caught off guard by anything. There was no doubt in his mind that there was something in this chamber. It was only a matter of finding out what exactly was there with them. 

Squeak

Twilight came to an abrupt halt, his skin crawling and goosebumps scattering across his skin. 

The spirit of the wolf whined, curling up tightly. 

This was a sound Twilight was far too familiar with. A sound he could never forget no matter how hard he tried. Already, he experienced the phantom sensations of tiny little paws grappling onto his clothes and scrabbling upwards. Sharp, piercing teeth and hauntingly beady eyes that glowed in the dark filtered through his mind. 

He waited for a second, straining his ears to catch the sound again. 

Nothing but silence met them. 

Slowly, Twilight relaxed, the tension bleeding from his back and shoulders. Perhaps it was his paranoia acting up and his mind was making up the noises. This place was a great deal like Arbiter’s Grounds. It would make sense. 

He shook his head and hastened forward. Warrior was already a good distance ahead of him. 

The Ordonian swore he heard the scraping of claws against the disjointed and fractured tiles but he refused to believe it. Reliving Arbiter’s Grounds was not something Twilight was keen on doing. 

And that was when he felt it. 

Something latching onto his pants leg and racing upwards. 

Horror and dismay contorted Twilight’s features as he instinctively stiffened, all sense of mobility fleeing from him. 

“Warrior - Captain - Pretty Boy-” He sifted through Warrior’s names, body paralyzed and frozen stiff. The claws climbed precariously higher, but the Ordonian couldn’t bring himself to look and see what had latched onto him. If it was what he knew it was… Warrior whirled around, concern creasing his brow at the urgency in Twilight’s voice, “Twi, what-” 

Twilight flinched, eyes squeezed shut, limbs cold and hands raised, “Get it off, get it off, get. it. off,” He repeated the mantra two more times. 

Warrior rushed to his side, searching for whatever it was Twilight felt. He saw nothing. “What-” “My back!” Twilight grit his teeth together, catching a barely-audible squeak as razor-sharp claws made their way up his spine, “It’s on my back! Don’t just stand there, Warrior, if you don’t-” He was cut off when Warrior cast aside his confusion and swiped his hand down Twilight back. 

He was taken by surprise when he was met with some resistance. Both Heroes heard a startled squeak as an invisible force made contact with the ground, the impact ringing in their ears. 

Warrior blinked dumbly down at the ground, arm half-bent and hovering in the air. 

There was nothing there. He hadn’t seen anything on Twilight and yet...He’d clearly hit something. “What was that?!” Warrior shrilly demanded to know. “A rat.” “A rat?! I didn’t see a rat!” “Of course you didn’t,” Twilight said with a trace of sarcasm, his heart rate slowing now that he was in no imminent danger, “They’re ghoul rats.” “Ghoul rats?!” 

As if called upon, several other squeaks and the speedy clicking of claws came from somewhere around them. Warrior looked around incredulously. 

A slightly hysterical laugh rose in Twilight’s throat because of course this would happen, but he suppressed it when the Captain shoved him forward. 

“Out, out, out,” The Knight prompted urgently, racing for the door, “I don’t do invisible rats.” 

“You only deal with the visible ones then?” Twilight couldn’t help but quip. 

Warrior all but threw open the door in response, the two stumbling free of the room and slamming it shut behind them. Several thumps resounded against the door. 

Leaning against the cold metal, Warrior heaved a sigh and swore, “Never again. Never.”

Twilight collapsed beside him, more than happy to take a brief respite. 

“Gibdos, ghoul rats, and sinking sand,” He listed off unhappily, his head falling back, “I can only imagine what comes next.”

Warrior turned to him, chest heaving from having all but booked it out of there. 

“No more. I don’t think I can handle whatever horrors your world holds, Twi,” 

Twi snorted quietly. “I’m beginning to wonder how I did.” 

It was a good thing, Twilight figured to himself, that Warrior had never seen what the poes of his world looked like. 

~~~~~

“Should we even dare?” 

Twilight wanted to tear his hair out. 

Warrior shifted indecisively. 

This, Twilight grumbled, is pathetic. 

“There’s no telling what’s behind this door.”

“No, but if we’ve learned anything, it’s that nothing good is behind this door,” Twilight muttered and his wolf self yipped in agreement. 

Warrior gave a small chuckle, the sound lacking its typical warmth and genuinity. He rubbed at the back of his neck, staring at the door in consideration. 

“It could be the last one we have to go through.” 

The ‘or not,’ was left unsaid but not unheard. 

Both knew they were stalling. Neither one of them wanted to cross the threshold to discover what surprise this chamber might hold. Heaving a sigh, eyes closing in resignation, Twilight planted a hand against the cool metal, 

“We might as well get this over with. The sooner we get out of this place, the better.” 

Warrior huffed. Then, with a dramatic gesture of his hand, said, “After you.” 

Twilight was not amused. 

With both hands, he unstuck the door and shoved it upwards then quickly stepped to the side once it vanished. 

Cautiously, both Heroes peered inside to scope out the interior of this new room. 

Warrior blinked, a vague impression of unease and revulsion etched into his features. Twilight was too tired to care anymore. 

“You...Am I seeing correctly?” Warrior asked, his voice the ghost of a whisper. He turned to Twilight, pointing with his left. 

“Well you aren’t imagining it,” Twilight muttered in response. He took hold of the Ordon blade and unsheathed it, “Come along now, Captain, the sooner we finish this, the sooner we leave.” 

Warrior raised both eyebrows, commenting wryly, “Now where was this attitude when-” 

“Captain,” 

“Coming.” 

And with that, Warrior slipped into the room after Twilight. Both stilled when the door slid shut and locked behind them. They spared it a glance then returned their attention to the center of the musty chamber. It was, by far, the smallest room they had been in, meaning there was little space for them to move. 

“Ominous,” Warrior remarked idly, taking in the grotesque, rotting, bony arms sticking out of the ground. “Must be our boss battle.” 

“Disgusting,” Twilight tacked on. His nose crinkled at the foul and overwhelming stench of death and decay in the heavy air. Sometimes, it did not pay to have heightened senses. 

His wolf self grumbled in indignation. 

“Do we chop off the arms?” Warrior wondered aloud, studying the eerie skeletal limbs swaying in a nonexistent breeze. “Where is the main body?”  “If there is one,” Twilight scowled. He and Warrior slowly approached the center of the room, careful not to step within reach of the stiff arms. 

“Here goes nothing,” Warrior shrugged, taking a swing of his sword and chopping a couple of the limbs halfway. 

There was an ear-splitting shriek that made Twilight slap his hands over his ears and cringe.  “Din’s name! The arms grew back!” Warrior exclaimed, drawing Twilight’s attention back to...whatever they were facing. Revulsion contorted Warrior’s face, “Oh, that was sickening.” 

Twilight’s lip curled back in agreement. 

“Maybe all of the arms at once?” He suggested. Warrior gestured for him to give it a whirl. Twilight exhaled deeply and moved to the middle of the extended limbs. Without warning, one of the bony fingers of a nearby hand twitched, agitated after sensing his movement, and snatched. 

Twilight gave a muffled shout when the hand grasped tightly at his face, his vision going dark from his eyes being covered. Sharp nails cut into his skin, trickles of blood slipping free from the slivers.  The Rancher’s hands snatched at the offending limb, striving vainly to tug himself free. He felt Warrior trying to help him, the Knight muttering harshly under his breath. His sharp ears also detected something unburying itself from the ground and his heart plummeted. 

“Sweet Hylia!” Warrior cried from behind, “Din, Farore, and Nayru forbid, that thing is atrocious! Holy heavens,” 

Would you focus on setting me free?! Twilight inwardly shouted. His wolf spirit howled, barked, growled, and snapped his teeth.  

“Oh, gross, it’s coming closer-” Warrior iterated, “-Disgusting. Look at those teeth-” 

I can’t, Twilight deadpanned, not daring to speak. The slimy, rotting hand on his face prevented him from doing anything. He didn’t want to risk even breathing. 

“I have never seen anything so hideously hideous in my entire life-” 

Have you looked in a mirror? Twilight wanted to quip, his wolf self snickering. He growled, the sound muffled. 

“I am not going anywhere near that thing, so-” Strong arms wound around Twilight’s chest and Warrior yanked with all his might, tearing Twilight free of the hand just in time to see what exactly had taken him captive. 

Deep, abyss-filled eyes on a gaunt, white, sickly face inches away from Twilight’s own greeted the Ordonian. Wide, long, teeth stretched in a broad smile on that thin head at the end of an extended neck momentarily horrified Twilight.  Wolfie all but shrieked at the unexpected and ghastly sight, fur standing on end. 

He grunted when Warrior crashed back onto the ground, still holding onto the Rancher. Both stayed sprawled on the ground, staring in terrified wonder at this unfamiliar, wretched, and slouched creature. 

The monster, realizing they were now out of reach, disappeared back into the ground. 

Twilight and Warrior simultaneously released sighs of relief, jumping when the door behind them crashed open. 

“What in Hylia’s name is going on here?” A familiar voice demanded to know. Twilight and Warrior scrambled to their feet with an enthusiastic cry of,  “Time!” 

Time’s eye darted between the two as they bolted towards him, a brooding look of wearied exasperation etched into his features, “I could hear the two of you from down the corridor-” He was cut off when the teens found refuge behind him, huddling together in a vain attempt to disappear from view. His expression flat-lined. “What are you both doing?”  “Did you know Ghoul Rats exist?” Warrior asked, beyond disturbed and scarred.  “Not to mention that thing,” Twilight added with a shudder of his own,  “We don’t talk about that thing, Twi,” 

“’That thing’ came out of the ground-” Twilight pointed ahead of them. Time suppressed the urge to sigh and turned his head to pin whatever creature the two were so thoroughly shaken by with a glare. 

His gaze froze when he took in the rotting, white-limbed, arms sticking up from the ground, clawed fingers curled and ready to snatch at anyone who dared come near.  A strange expression crawled across the Old Man’s face. One neither Twilight nor Warrior had ever seen him wear. His eye had gone dead and cold, recognition flaring to life before the elder Hero spun on his heel, grabbed the teens by their shoulders, and ushered them out. 

“Um, Time, shouldn’t we-” Warrior began, gesturing vaguely back to the room they’d left. 

“We don’t have time to waste,” The Old Man smoothly interjected, patting Warrior’s shoulder. He slipped between the two and began striding down the corridor. “We still have six other Links to find.” 

Twilight and Warrior shared a bemused look but dutifully followed after the golden-clad Hylian. They spared one last glance at the metallic door hiding the monster from view and, recalling the horrors they’d experienced in the span of two minutes, and skittered away. 

“Never again,” Warrior swore, hastening his pace. 

Never, Twilight agreed. 

[bensonstablers]

Writer Asks

Tagged by - @sdktrs12 <3

I tag - tbh if anyone wants to do this, please feel free, haha buuuut I specifically tag @conscience-killer @constant-sinner​ ... I know both of you haven’t written fic in a hot minute but I like it when y’all talk about your work :)

ao3 name: watermelonriddles 

fandoms: uhh, since December 15th 2018 I’ve pretty much exclusively written for Good Girls with like one Graceland fic during that whole period, haha. I’ve written for like 15+ fandoms over the years though (9 of which are on AO3 — I deleted any that were also on ff.net).

number of fics: 56

fic I spent the most time on: it’s unintentionally between Shared History and Degree of Separation and yikes, I don’t want to think about the fact that I still haven’t finished them

fic I spent the least amount of time on: A lot of my fics that are below 3k are probably good contenders for this. Although I feel like I probably deleted a lot of the fics that took me the least amount of time, ha.

most hits: Degree of Separation. It’s joint as my longest fic right now so I guess it’s not too surprising?

most kudos: Degree of Separation despite it being a long fic, this is still a little surprising to me, ha.

most comment threads: Shared History.

most bookmarks: Degree of Separation although it’s currently only one up from Shared History.

highest total word count: Shared History but there are only a few hundred words between that and Degree of Separation.

favourite fic I wrote: None. I mean, I’ve had a ton of fun working on Shared History and Degree of Separation which is why I’ve never abandoned them despite it taking me so long to update but as I draw closer to endings of those, I’m getting more stressed (still have fun, just a little stressed, ha). I feel like I’ll consider them favourites once they’re actually complete?

Off the top of my head, out of my AO3 fics Milkshakes (Good Girls), For Warmth (Good Girls), On a Dare (Good Girls), You & I (Graceland), Marked (Preacher), and Pained Pleasure (Gotham) were all super fun to write at the time but I honestly don’t know if I’d call them favourites or not :’)

fic I want to rewrite/expand on: I feel like it has to be Milkshakes? I’m constantly surprised by how many people actually want a sequel/more to that story but it did make me feel good writing it. It just depends though. People also ask if I’m going to continue my Riverdale fic No Matter What Happens which... Listen, I feel bad ‘cause I haven’t updated it since 2018 and I do want to finish it but I honestly don’t know if I ever will.

As for re-write, No Matter What Happens would probably fall into that but there’s a lot of older fic I want to re-write, even stuff from my old ff.net account :) 

share a bit of a wip or story idea you’re working on: I’m not really working on anything right now ‘cause I want to finish Shared History and Degree of Separation buuuut the following are some W.I.P I started last year (or even the year before, yikes) and have put on hold:

AU: The Bolands are more well off than they are in the show but Dean still manages to get them into debt by borrowing money from the wrong people. Rio (and his boys) run the Security Company that Beth hires to keep her family safe.

Pre-show: While Beth is out running errands with Danny (who is relatively young compared to the show), they’re happened upon by Rio and another guy. The former is in trouble and she and Danny end up being sucked into the drama of it all. It’s technically going to be three (relatively short?) pieces taking place at three different points in Beth’s life: around about the time she gets pregnant with Jane (the youngest Boland in this fic), when she’s several months pregnant with Jane, and some (yet to be determined) point after that. Although, it’s unclear if the third point/fic will actually happen or not. 

Pre-show: Beth gets deep into crime as a teenager after accidentally selling drugs at the wrong park (the wrong park is the accident, not the drugs, she’s well aware she’s selling them, haha). +Sequel fic: This was originally the only one I was going to do and basically Beth is the one who is robbed of half a million dollars by Rio who got out of crime after having Marcus. While figuring out backstories, I ended up with some ideas for a prequel, ha.

There’s also a couple of Annie/Rio fics and AUs I have in mind (as well as some Graceland and even Mad Men stuff, which the latter is a total surprise to me, ha,) but the actual ideas are pretty minimal right now. I’m just... Trying not to get too distracted until I finish my current multi-chapter fics plus, once I do complete those I want to try and write fics to completion (or as close to it as possible) before I start posting :)

[tonyspep]

and possibly i like the thrill (of under me you quite so new)

a/n: friends to lovers is my favorite thing in the whole world, give me a girl seeing a boy in a new way or vice versa and i will die every time like i've never seen it lol. this was inspired by the poem i like my body when it's with your body by ee cummings. i imagined richard's friend who is a writer to be naomi scott who was in the remake of aladdin and will be in the new charlie's angels. also richard's sisters are mentioned throughout the fic, i don't know their names so i made them up; they are beth and evie.

~*~and possibly i like the thrill~*~

(of under me you quite so new)

pairing: richard madden/you

summary: it is so quite new a thing/or they've been friends for as long as they can remember, now – over the course of three days – they take the leap and become something more

rating: m

well, it seems to me that the best relationships – the ones that last – are frequently the ones rooted in friendship. you know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. like a switch has been flicked somewhere. and the person who was just a friend is... suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with.

gillian anderson -

part one of three

[day one]

You couldn't understand why you were nervous, so nervous that you had gone through two bags of crisps and were currently working through a third as you waited for Richard to pick you up at the airport. There was absolutely no reason for you to be nervous, it's not as if you were some starstruck fangirl who waxed rhapsodic about his bluer than blue eyes or the cut of his jawline. You were his – literally – oldest friend. The two of you having been joined at the hip – basically – since you were born, just a few hours apart in the very same hospital in Renfrewshire and then just two houses down from each other until you both moved away – him to London to pursue acting – and you to Paris for writing.

Now he was Mr. Mega Famous Superstar, everyone in your little town crowing on and on about Robb Stark had a pint at the pub and sat in this very chair.

And you had done well for yourself, also. Starting out low on the totem pole at French Vogue to writing a weekly thing and celebrity profiles before deciding to go free lance and compose a book of observational essays, which – somehow – made the New York Times bestseller list. But that was nothing compared to being recognized all over the world by millions of people.

You couldn't help but shake your head from the stray thought.

While you were far from blind – his puppy fat had long since melted away, revealing the handsome face the public had come to know – he was still just Dickie, your oldest friend who you took baths with, who devoured your mother's chicken korma with gusto you couldn't even manage and your first kiss behind the swings of your primary school when you were five.

Or at least that's what you had to keep reminding yourself of more and more every time you saw him again.

Because the last few years, what was so obvious to the world at large, was getting harder and harder for you to ignore.

The broadness of his shoulders, the obvious strength in his lean but toned arms, how he had a bum a quarter could bounce off of. That streak of pure silver among his tight auburn curls, the way his eyes crinkled as he laughed, his lush lips forming that oh so charming grin with ease.

oh, god you thought, panic setting it. You were basically on the verge of being like one of those people who typed those thirst tweets that Buzzfeed made him read. Richard Madden could run me over with a bus and I'd still suck that dick or whatever and now you were going to spend the next three days in Cannes with him... alone.

fuck you cursed just as your senses were suddenly assaulted by a warm crisp scent of pine and spice and man, making your thighs involuntarily clench underneath you as you prepared for the deep rasp you knew was coming.

“Surrender that extra bag of crisps I know you have and I won't cause a scene, little miss,”

little miss, little miss, little miss...

It shouldn't have – it's something he's called you for so long now, something playful and affectionate because though he isn't tall by the standard of most men, he towers over your tiny barely five foot frame – but your wayward imagination takes over before you can stop it.

The two words – in your head – are rougher, deeper – like a growl from the deepest part of his chest that you definitely haven't thought of and when the bristles of his beard brush against the smooth skin of your cheek, you suck in a deep breath reminding yourself that this was the same man who at age thirteen ran to the corner store for a hot water bottle and emergency tampons for you, that he was your oldest and most dearest friend and you shouldn't be thinking about him pounding you – your legs wrapped around that criminally narrow waist – as he called you little miss.

You turn, expected to be confronted by his ridiculously blue eyes, and your more than thankful that they're hidden by stylish aviators. You laugh at the cap on his head, plucking it off and setting it on your own head as you stick out your tongue, falling easily into the familiar routine of best friend.

“Put that back where it belongs, miss or I'll have to tell the lovely Dr. Chokalingam how the polite, lovely girl she raised is now a little hellion with no regard for manners,” He threatened, flashing those perfectly white teeth as his lush lips twisted into a smile that was too charming for your own good.

You were about to retort – something tart on the tip of your tongue – when suddenly you found yourself swept into his arms. Your face fell into the crook of his neck and you couldn't resist breathing him in, that familiar smell of spice (cinnamon) and pine with that burst of citrus (orange) underneath and something completely Richard engulfed you, and when he pulled back – lifting his aviators – and there were his stupidly blue eyes staring at you, your stomach swooped and it was suddenly filled with butterflies.

“I've missed you,” So honest, so sincere like only he can be and you can't stop the shudder that rolls through your lithe frame.

As he watched you bound into the lavish hotel lobby, your fingers slipping from his as your wide coffee colored eyes took in every inch, Richard didn't know how he was going to survive these next three days.

You were even more beautiful than he remembered, the warmth of the Southern French sunlight bathing you in a glow that had his heart tripping in his chest. You were dressed more than appropriately for the heat the island was known for, the denim cut offs revealing the length of your shapely legs. Though, small in stature, your legs – somehow – seemed to go for miles finally ending in dainty feet that were slid into worn flip flops revealing your gold painted toes that sparkled.

His cap was back on his head – after a bit of a playful wrestling match the two of you had – and now your hair was twisted into a messy top knot, several of the inky black strands framing your face, and he could feel his fingers flex by his side, the want to brush them away and then seal his lips across your pert raspberry pout growing stronger by the second. His feet easily separated the small distance between you, his hand reaching for your wrist and as soon as his fingers closed over your skin, he twirled you, unable to stop himself.

It was so hard to ignore your body pressed against his, your pert breasts pillowed against his chest, the flare of your hips aligned with his waist and your head tucked perfectly under his chin.

“I missed you too,” And it was clearly his imagination because why would you sound breathless around him? He was your oldest mate; the chubby boy who did things like get you emergency tampons and hot water bottles from the corner store, not someone you would ever think of as a viable romantic partner.

Little did he know as he bent his head forward, nose nuzzling the appealing curve of your slim shoulder, you were thinking the same thing. That he would never see you as a viable romantic partner.

In the suite, the studio had booked there were two queen sized beds, but by the end of the holiday the two beds would be pushed together, neither of you knew that yet, though.

“Do you ever get used to it,” You asked softly after you and Richard slipped out of the hotel's back entrance through it's enormous kitchen. “Having to do this? Sneak about? How if a pap snapped away, I'd be called the latest flavor of heartthrob Richard Madden's month?” You tease, nudging his hip with yours, purposefully keeping your voice light, even though your stomach drops.

You can't help but think how lonely it must be for him, now that he's – you can't stop your cheeks from warming – some kind of sex symbol.  Which leads you to thinking about the revolving door of women that have come in and out of his life since he and Jenna finally split. All of them tall, all of them drop dead gorgeous with bodies you could never compete with no matter how many spin classes you took or how many miles you ran.

You bite your lip, casting a look at him from underneath your lashes and your heart aches as you watch sadness creep into his chiseled features. His blue eyes go dull, turning a subtle grey and he shakes his head, carding his fingers through his curls.

“Not really,” He answers, faint blush creeping into his perfect cheekbones. “I don't see myself the way everyone else seems to,” A dry chuckle. “Though, if a pap snapped away at you and I,” There's that charming grin again and his eyes have returned to their usual bright state. That happy blue you could drown in. “I can't say,” He's doing that thing where he stares straight into your eyes and your whole world melts away, leaving only the two of you and your stomach goes swoopy and there are the butterflies and you don't know how you're standing. “I'd be the least bit miffed to be listed as one of the flavors of the month for New York Times best-selling author Ariana Chokalingam.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, that wonderful brogue full of such sincerity, you don't know how you're breathing. Under the faint glow of the lights from the hotel, he looks very much like the young prince he claims he's happy not to be cast as anymore. He's so handsome, you feel as though the French Police should be called and he should be towed away because his looks make him as dangerous as any criminal roaming about.

You stop your wayward thoughts and jab him square in the ribs, breaking yourself out of your little fantasy. “Come off it,” You chide. “I don't have flavors of the month. The paps would just tag me as a mystery brunette on your arm. It was just a book of essays, Dickie,” You roll your eyes and give him another jab. “The cover was mostly pink.”

“Don't,” His tone is fierce and the muscle in the cut of his jaw twitches and clenches as if he's back on the set of Bodyguard playing David Budd. “Don't do that,” His voice changes going gentle, almost pleading as you feel his large palm cup the right side of your face, forcing you to look into his too-captivating eyes. “Ana,” Something only he calls you, everyone else around you defaulting to Ari or your full name. “If it was just a book of essays would so many people have bought it? First in hard cover and then in paper back. Vera and Roshi couldn't have bought every copy. If Beth hadn't told me I was ridiculous, I would have beat them to the punch, anyway,” He laughs and his eyes are sparkling, a boyish and bashful look crossing his handsome face. “Evie will be the first to tell you, I hadn't read a book cover to cover since secondary school when I was required to.”

“Stoooop,” You whine, shoving at him and before you can shove him again, he's caged you in his arms and nuzzles his face against your neck. “It's true. I'll call them right now and prove it,” He insists and you giggle as you squirm in his embrace. “C'mon, Romeo,” You sigh, finally managing to twist out of his hold. “Show me what mega stars do on holiday. Writers only get into the hottest parties and whatnot if they're on assignment y'know.”

Le Vogue was Taron's suggestion after Richard had sent his good friend a quick text. The music – electronica and house – reminded him of the music they used for Ibiza. The club itself was intimate with close quarters, at least from what he was able to gather as all too quickly the the two of you were whisked to the private era, a velvet rope separating you and the other VIPs from the public.

Under the strobe lights, you were even more beautiful to him, and he found himself slipping back into being almost cripplingly shy as if he were nothing more than a school boy.

The flimsy dress you had chosen to wear – after changing from your cutoffs and tee – wasn't helping at all, of course.

The fabric is satin, the straps thin and sitting high on your slim shoulders while the satin clings to your pert breasts emphasizing how they would fit perfectly in the heft of his palms and the ribbon wrapped around your waist shows off how tiny that part of your body is while its slit reaches the top of your thigh, teasing him to helplessness every time you so much as take a step let alone dance.

It's the music and the alcohol, he thinks as you drag him to the floor, grinding and sliding against him, head thrown back to the steady thump of the bass, exposing the wonderful length of your neck. He wants nothing more than for this to be real, for you to want him as he wants you. If not for the French beer giving you a buzz, no one knowing either of you and how it's typical for anyone to be loose with their inhibitions while on holiday, you wouldn't be doing this; touching him, your fingers carding through his hair, then sliding down the front of his body before swiveling your hips in such a way he's not sure he remembers his own name.

How early it is when you finally leave, Richard doesn't know all he knows is you're thoroughly smashed, like utterly blitzed and tanked up and because you're in such a state, you're clingier than you would be otherwise. You can't stop touching him; your hands blindly groping over and underneath his clothes, your roaming hands – at one point – actually grip his ass which makes you howl with laughter as you nearly topple over on your unsteady feet, the heels on your feet doing you no favors in keeping you upright.

Despite being wasted, you still smell of daisies and clementines and when you fall into bed, hiccuping and mumbling how your mother would be thoroughly disappointed in you, he laughs and sets about the task of getting you comfortable to sleep off your drunken stupor.

He's careful of not revealing more of your luscious mocha skin than he has to as he tries to slip your dress away and put on your pajamas. It doesn't help that he's replacing this devil of a dress with shorts that can't possibly cover your ass and a top that doesn't seem like it will cover your entire front, some of your stomach – flat and smooth – will surely be visible, and he curses his parents for raising him to be such a fucking gentleman.

“Nooooooooo,” You whine after he's finally gotten you changed. You're grabbing for him again and he bats your insistent hands away, bending and murmuring as he pushes back several strands of your hair, “Sleep mo leannan,” He urges, his voice soft and gentle.

“Staaaaaaaaay,” Another whine as your velvet lashes reveal unfocused and bleary coffee eyes. But they're soft and warm, somehow, as well and he's never been able to resist you. Going back to when you were children and you always got the last crisp in the bag or the last piece of his Gran's homemade shortbread from the tin. “If you insist, my lady,” Bowing gallantly and you laugh – loud and brash – your head thrown back as if it's the funniest thing you've heard and after stripping to his boxer briefs, he grabs an old tee shirt and slips it on before climbing into bed with you.

You cling to him like a limpet, your every inch pressed against his and just before he falls asleep you murmur, “Thanks for staying, Dickie.”

“Anything for you, Ana.”

a/n: mo leannan is scottish for my sweetheart

@bluesfortheredj @nishanki1

[montierosepha-blog]

Epic RDR2 Extra Story

So you may have heard that there was originally more main story for RDR2 involving another love interest for Arthur, involving another 5 or so missions but that ultimately it was written out. Well here it is....sort of – it's definitely the closest thing to DLC we're going to get for a while!!! The short version of how this came to be is: Got depressed and wrote epic extra RDR2 story based in Chapter 3 with over 50 created 'screencaps' to accompany. Never done 3D character creation before so taught myself everything I could. Used a 17 yr old version of Photoshop and a free 3D rendering program. All of this is dedicated to G.J.V who was a massive gamer and tragically passed away from a similar infection to TB 3 days after we got married. Important to note – I wrote this when only in Chapter 3, I hadn't completed the game (still haven't more on that later) There are of course some minor clashes and bits that need changing but well artistic license! In terms of story this happens in Clements Point pre. The mission where Arthur is kidnapped by the O'Driscolls. Everything is pretty much the same, with the addition of the new character, and Molly is not with Dutch yet. I have used a mission from Chapter 2 just because it fitted so well incase you get confused! Along with the extra story I have written a slightly amended ending to Arthur's death (don't worry he still dies!) as well as an Epilogue moment for the new character.

Honestly I put way too much time into this, but it got me through an extremely rough time so I'm grateful just for that. However if you like it please let me know! Also I'm happy to answer any questions, there were lots of little nuances that were put in (some on purpose and some moments that were accidentally relevant to events or experiences that at the time of writing I didn't know anything about, but somehow worked out!)

So here we go!!!

Resilient, independant and deadly with a bow, Grace joined the Van der Linde gang at the same time as Charles. They had met several months before whilst tracking the same bear and decided that in the changing times, travelling together was perhaps safer for them both. From a wealthy background but with a tumultuous childhood, Grace spent most of her life surviving alone, except for a few years when she was taken in by an Indian tribe; learning and working alongside them she eventually proved herself and became one of them. However with the violent climate and her own troubles she decided to head out again on her own. She prefers the predictability of beats to men and whilst her dealings with the civilised world are limited, she is highly educated and quick thinking, something which appeals greatly to Dutch, but it appears her interest lie elsewhere much to his frustrations

Because I know you'll be reading the dialogue in the characters voices here is a clip of Grace's voice (it's a bit of a spoiler to the story but the only bit that could be re written into a monologue) 

https://youtu.be/wyekV2huIV8 (click through link may not work please copy and paste to browser to listen) The first time Arthur met Grace; a few months before the Blackwater incident, she was carrying a huge deer carcass across her shoulders. He offered to help and was promptly shut down, rather than take offence he found it quite endearing, and after a sincere apology from Grace later that day the two found themselves sharing stories and enjoying each others company. Whilst the events of the last few months have seen little time for socialising, the gang now settled, albeit temporarily in Clements Point, has meant that there are at least the occasional times for frivolity. With some money set aside, and recently appointed as deputies to Sheriff Gray of Rhodes, Dutch decided that it might be good for the gang to let off a little steam in Rhodes Saloon one evening - of course providing everyone was going to be on their best behaviour.

Clements Point Gang Camp, Early evening.

The majority of the camp is getting ready to head into town, a few of the gang have decided to stay behind but all are in good spirits, except Arthur who is clearly agitated.

Dutch- Arthur what is the matter with you this evening? Arthur- Nothing. Just, are you sure this is a good idea? Dutch- Arthur it will be fine! There's not going to be any trouble. We're just going to go, make a few new friends and get a better understanding of what we've got here. There is nothing to worry about! Arthur- Okay ok. I'm just being cautious is all. Grace walks past in her bloodied hunting jacket. Grace- Hey Arthur. Mr. Van der Linde, well don't you both look nice! Arthur- Aren't you coming into Rhodes with us? Grace- Well I was going to, but I don't think a jacket covered in animal insides is going to make quite the impression you two had in mind as deputies. Arthur- Well I'm sure everyone won't mind waiting for you.

Dutch- No, Arthur. Why don't you and Bill take the cart and go on ahead with everyone. I'm more than happy to wait for Miss. Holden. Grace- That would be wonderful, Thank you. Dutch- Not at all, my dear. Grace disappears off, an irritated Arthur turns back to Dutch. Arthur- And what do we do if Sheriff Gray happens to be there and you're not? Dutch- Entertain him, Arthur. He's an idiot and a drunk, so even you shouldn't have a problem holding conversation with the man. Just keep everyone on their best behaviour and every thing will be fine. Arthur- (he lets out a sigh.) Whatever you say, you're the boss. Dutch- That I am.  (To the gang ) Now go have some fun! Just make it well behaved fun!

Arthur and the majority of the gang clamber onto the wagon and set off, leaving a few members, and more importantly Dutch and Grace behind.

The Parlour House in Rhodes, Later that evening.

It's busy and the gang are having a good time along with the locals. Charles and Arthur are at the bar. Charles – You look nervous. What's up? Arthur- Ah, I'm just still not sure about this whole thing Dutch is trying to pull with the Sheriff. Seems like a bad idea to me putting ourselves out in public so much like this, and as deputies! Charles- Dutch is smart man, I'm sure he knows what he's doing. Arthur- I damn well hope so. Where the hell is he anyway?

As Arthur speaks the doors to the parlour house open and in walks Dutch, with Grace firmly on his arm. They walk over and greet Arthur and Charles at the bar.

Arhur- You finally made it. Dutch- Of course! And doesn't Miss. Holden look wonderful? Grace looks a little uncomfortable as Charles and Arthur nod in agreement. Arhur- Beautiful. Looking like a real lady. Grace-As opposed to the rest of the time when I look like...? Arthur stumbles for what to say realising his insult.

Grace- (she laughs) it's ok, Arthur! Thank you. So drinks? Dutch- Actually I should find Sheriff Gray first. Would you accompany me, Miss Holden? If you two don't mind? Arthur- Sure; can't let drinking get in the way of business. Dutch escorts a reluctant Grace away which annoys Arthur. Arthur- Look at him parading her around like a prize horse. Charles-I wouldn't worry too much, Arthur. Grace has no ambitions with Dutch. Arthur- Well she should, he's the one in charge; it'd be a smart choice. Charles- Love isn't about being smart. Just look at my parents. Arthur- Well maybe. But you know what, there's too much going on right now to be thinking about any of that. Charles- Perhaps you should stop worrying, do what Dutch says, and actually have some fun. Arthur- You're right. Ha, you're always right, Charles. (to the barman) Another drink! A short while later Grace has managed to separate herself from Dutch, and is chatting to a group of rather drunk men, when one of them insists she dance with him. She's reluctant but not wanting to cause trouble she obliges. The men are rowdy and as the song ends Grace is very keen to get away and makes her way towards Arthur who's still at the bar. Just before she reaches him the man grabs her hand pulling her backwards asking her to dance some more. She politely says no but he insists. Arthur then decides to step forward. Arthur- The lady says no, mister. Drunk man - Oh and what business is it of yours? Arthur- Keep talking and you'll find out! Drunk Man- Oh really?

Grace- Ok, that's enough. We should go get a drink, Arthur. Arthur- (he calms a little as they turn and walk away) Sure.

Grace-Thank you for stepping in. Arthur- 'Course. Always ready to save a damsel in distress. Grace-Well I definitely ain't no damsel Arthur- Hah yes indeed. They laugh but Arthur then looks noticeably uncomfortable in the situation not really sure how to make conversation. Arthur- I... Uh.. Meant what I said earlier, you do... look very... Pretty. Grace- Thank you. I'm not going to lie I feel a bit uncomfortable in such a big dress, all done up! Arthur- Ha me too! (She looks at him a little quizzically.) ...That's... a nice necklace.

Grace- Oh, well I'd say thank you again, but, it's not mine. Dutch... gave it to me before we came here. Arthur- Looks expensive. Grace- Hmm, I think he's trying to make a good impression to these people. Arthur- Well he's certainly enjoying having a lady on his arm this evening. Grace- That's just business. Having a woman around makes him seem more trustworthy apparently. Arthur- If only they knew. Grace-I don't know what you're implying, Mr. Morgan! They laugh and chat for a little longer until Grace politely excuses herself and heads out. Dutch comes over to Arthur and is a clearly irritated. Dutch- Enjoying yourself, Arthur? Arthur- Just having a good time like you told us to. Dutch- I saw Miss. Holden was the object of some attention earlier. Arthur- Those guys dancing? Nah they're harmless. Dutch- Mm indeed. Mary Beth comes over to them both. Mary Beth- I'm sorry to interrupt gentlemen, but have you seen Grace? Arthur- Yeah she not long went out the back there. Mary Beth- Oh... Dutch- What's wrong? Mary Beth- Oh, nothing I guess. Just that man that wanted her to dance earlier. He's been watching her the whole time, just a bit odd you know? But I saw him head out that same way a minute ago. Arthur puts down his beer and with a look he and Dutch head out. Dutch-Arthur remember who we are to these people. Don't cause any trouble. Arthur- I'm not gonna cause any trouble I'm gonna prevent trouble. They head out the back outside to find the drunk guy blocking Grace from getting back in grabbing her wrists. Arthur- Hey! As Grace goes to move past the guy he grabs her and forces a kiss. Just as Arthur and Dutch start to move she has no  hesitation and knees the guy in the balls. Arthur stops and laughs, but Dutch looks less amused.

Drunk Man- Bitch! Grace- Asshole! Arthur- And to think we were worried about you. Grace- Well I told you, I ain't no damsel that needs rescuing! Dutch- well let's keep you close for the rest of the evening, shall we. We can't afford any trouble here. As they walk back into the bar Bill comes over. Bill- Poker. Upstairs. You in? Dutch- Not for me, I don't think it would set the right impression. Bill- Arthur? Arthur- Sure, I'm feeling lucky.

Grace- Me too. Bill- You? Grace- Sure, why you two scared? Bill- Not at all. Your money is the same as everyone else's! Arthur offers Grace an arm. Arthur- I guess we'll see you later, Dutch. Grace takes Arthur's arm and they follow Bill upstairs whilst Dutch is left fuming. They all play for a bit, Bill ends up going out quite early on much to his annoyance. Grace holds her own fairly well with the rest of the men including an unusually successful Arthur, but she decides to eventually bow out. Grace- Right, Boys. That is me done. Men- No stay! Grace- No, I've had too much to drink to keep my wits about me. So I am leaving with my dignity and my money! She heads back towards the stairs to be greeted by Dutch sitting on the sofa. Dutch- Miss Holden. Grace- Oh, Dutch. Dutch- Care to join me? Grace- Sure. Dutch- (pouring two drinks) Well, I didn't know you were so good at poker. It's not really a ladies game. Grace-There's lots of things you don't know I'm good at. (she downs the whiskey shot he poured) Dutch-Is that a fact... Grace- Indeed. (she's definitely drunk)

Dutch-You really do intrigue me, Miss. Holden. Beauty and brains it seems. (He takes her hand) I don't think I've ever met a woman quite like you. (he pauses for a moment). Arthur sees this all from the poker table but is in the middle of a hand (“You gonna play or not!”) At that point Charles walks up the stairs and over to Grace and Dutch, two beers in hand. Charles- Dutch there's a man downstairs asking for you, something about a meeting tomorrow morning. Dutch- (Dutch sighs and reluctantly stands )Ah yes. Do excuse me. Charles- (handing Grace a beer) Here's that beer Arthur wanted. Grace- (she's very relieved) Thanks. Grace walks back to the poker table just as the hand ends, Arthur didn't win. Random Man- Hey, she's back! Arthur- Everything ok? Grace- Yeah, of course. (she hands him the beer) Arthur- You know what, I'm gonna need more than this (he sips at the beer) Come sit here and be my good luck charm. (he indicates his lap and Grace happily obliges) The game continues and Arthur wins a big hand and the 2 other players bust out. Arthur- Sorry gentlemen - looks like my good luck charm worked. The men disperse leaving Arthur and Grace alone upstairs. Grace goes to the sofa where she and Dutch were sitting and picks up the barely touched bottle of whiskey. Grace- Hey, Dutch left this, wanna help me finish it. Arthur- Oh I dunno, stealing a man's girl is one thing, stealing his whisky is another! Grace- Considering what you do, this is hardly stealing. Arthur- Ok. You convinced me. Grace- Didn't take much! Arthur- Shut up. Grace- And if you call me Dutch's girl again, which I most certainly am not I'll- Arthur- Oh I know, I saw what you did to the guy downstairs. Grace- Oh that was nothing! I will do much, much worse to you... When I've had less to drink though. They laugh and head out beyond the now empty poker table to the balcony.

Downstairs the bar is emptying. The gang are heading home. Dutch is also saying goodbye to his business man and asks the girls where Grace is. They haven't seen her.

Bill- Dont worry, Dutch. I'll get them home safe. Dutch- Thank you. Have you seen Arthur? Bill - 'fraid not. He was doing pretty well on the poker earlier but that's the last I saw him. You coming back with us? Dutch- No, I'm going to get a room here tonight, I'm meeting someone early tomorrow morning. Hosea- (walking out with the others pats Dutch on the shoulder) Oh Dutch, you never stop. Dutch- There's no time to stop, Hosea. We stop, we perish. I'll see you all tomorrow. They all leave and Dutch asks for a room. Arthur and Grace are out on the balcony, merrily drunk and telling stories. Grace- (she gets up and looks over the balcony) I think everyone's gone! Arthur- Nah. Grace- No they're all gone. The wagons gone! Arthur- (he comes over) They have gone! What the hell! Grace- I guess we'll have to sleep here. Arthur- On the balcony? Grace- No. We'll get a room. Arthur- Together? Grace- Don't worry Arthur, I won't bite. They go back inside and lean over the bannisters shouting down to the barman who's clearing up. Grace- Hey Barman- Oh I didn't know there was anyone still here. Arthur- Do you have any rooms? Barman- Only one. The little one in the corner up there. Grace- We'll take it. Just throw me the key. The barman hesitates but eventually throws up the key, neither of them manage to catch it of course. They open the door, to a single bed room. Arthur- Well this is...cosy Grace- It's fine we just need somewhere to sleep. She goes over and sits on the bed. Arthur- You know, I've had a good time tonight. Grace- Me too. You're good fun, Arthur. Arthur is still standing glancing out the window. Grace- What's the matter? Arthur- Ah just thinking Grace- You probably shouldn't do that. Leave Dutch to do the thinking. Arthur- It's Dutch I'm thinking about! He'd kill me if he knew I was here with you. Grace- Don't say it. I will hurt you. Arthur- I know, I know....just... Dutch thinks- Grace-You know, maybe you shouldn't worry about what Dutch thinks and just have a little fun. She gets up and goes over to him.

Arthur- (smiling) Charles said exactly the same thing. Grace- Well, Charles is always right. Arthur- ...He is, isn't he... They kiss.

Rhodes Saloon, Bedroom, The next morning.

Grace wakes up and sees Arthur almost dressed. She smiles.

Arthur- We should really be getting back to camp. Grace- Sure. She starts to get dressed, Arthur turns away, almost embarrassed. Arthur- I uh, I'll see what I can do about transport. Grace- (she smiles at him) Ok. Arthur heads out, the morning light through the windows is strong in his eyes as he heads slowly towards the stairs. He stops suddenly as he sees Dutch, with his back turned looking out through the balcony doors.

Arthur- Dutch! Dutch- (he continues to look outside) Good morning, Arthur. I trust you slept well? Arthur- Uh yeah, I guess. Dutch- Because I know you didn't sleep alone. Arthur- Look, Dutch... Dutch- (he turns to face Arthur) Oh Arthur, I've watched you make many mistakes but I'm not sure if you've ever been quite so stupid.

Grace is dressed and heads out of the room towards the stairs but stops when she realises Dutch and Arthur are in front of her. Arthur- Dutch, listen. Last night was alot of fun, and we all had too much to drink. And Grace.... Well... I mean, it meant nothing... Dutch glances over Arthur's shoulder to see Grace who heard everything. Arthur turns to see her and his face drops. Arthur- I didn't... Grace- Dutch, you were my ride here, can we go home now please. She walks past Arthur to the top of the stairs and stops. Dutch- (he looks at Arthur, almost smiling) Of course, Miss. Holden. They walk down the stairs leaving Arthur alone.

Clements Point Camp, Evening, later that day.

Arthur is sitting alone at the fire when Charles comes over to join him. He asks Arthur what happened last night and Arthur explains. Charles- I see. I wondered why Dutch seemed so happy with himself today. Arthur- As far as he's concerned he's won some big prize.

Charles- Hmm, I wouldn't say he's won anything, but Arthur you've got to tell her how you feel, at least explain what happened. Arthur- I dunno. I ain't exactly good with feelings at the best of times. Charles- Well don't leave it too long. There's no time promised to any of us.

Over the next few days Grace stays away from the camp, mostly out hunting, so Arthur doesn't run into her at all. A week or so passes and she and Sadie are down by the river, teaching Sadie how to use a bow. Arthur finally has the courage to come and talk to her. Arthur- Hello ladies. Sadie- Hey, Arthur. Grace says nothing. Arthur- Uh Sadie, I need to talk to Grace, could you give us a minute Sadie- Sure.(she leaves) Arthur- Its, uh been a while. Grace- Yeah it has. Arthur- Haven't seen you around much, thought you might be avoiding me. Grace- Maybe I was.

Arthur- So is now a good time to talk? Grace- That depends. I'm holding some pretty sharp arrows so I'd choose your words carefully. He smiles, but then realises she wasn't really joking. Arthur- Look I feel like a prize idiot about what happened. Everything with Dutch, it was just so complicated. I didn't mean to upset you but I didn't know what I was supposed to say to him. Grace- Well telling Dutch it meant nothing seems pretty uncomplicated to me. Arthur- Of course it didn't mean nothing Grace- Then what did it mean, Arthur? Arthur- I... (he still can't say how he feels.) Grace- I thought as much. (she walks away.) Arthur- Grace! (to himself) Uh you dumb moron. Arthur looks up to see Dutch watching from his tent.

Clements Point Camp, Evening, a few weeks later.

In the next few weeks Dutch takes alot of interest in Grace, spending time with her, talking, lending her books, much to the annoyance of Arthur who often disappears for days at a time. But Dutch then has a job and he wants Arthur's help. Turns out there's a very important (and very wealthy) couple relocating to Saint Denis. Although most of their belongings are travelling via train the pair themselves are going via stagecoach, along with their most valuable possessions and money. It's Dutch's plan to have himself, Arthur, Charles and Grace attack the stagecoach and steal everything they can. Arthur- (to Dutch) So you actually want to do this with us? Dutch- Of course! The opportunity to rob some pompous, bastard; watch him squeal at the sight of us, oh I wouldn't pass that up, Arthur. Arthur- Fair enough. But uh, Grace? She ain't exactly the heist type. Grace- (walking into the conversation) I am more than capable of robbing a few rich, old folks, thank you, Arthur. Dutch- Exactly! She and Charles are the secret weapon. Take out the riders with arrows, nice and quietly and then we swoop in and do the rest. It's subtlety Arthur. You don't always have to go in all guns blazing to get the job done! Charles- The horses are ready, let's go. The four of them set off as the sun sets and night time approaches.

On a quiet road somewhere between Rhodes and Saint Denis. Night.

The stagecoach arrives and Charles and Grace take out the riders as planned, however as Dutch and Arthur head down towards the coach they see a second, heavily guarded coach approaching. They'd hit a decoy instead. As the main carriage approaches, they realise what's happened and a fire fight ensues. Charles and Grace ride down from their positions to help but Grace gets knocked off her horse and takes cover by the main stagecoach with the passengers inside. They're outnumbered and realise there's more guards coming. Dutch manages to get to Grace and gets her up onto his horse as they ride off they are heavily pursued and get separated from Charles and Arthur. Dutch rides far, eventually losing the guards but they are completely lost. They come across an empty cabin and decide to stop.

An abandoned cabin somewhere in the wilderness. Night.

Dutch- We should stay here tonight. Head out first thing in the morning and find our way back. Grace- Ok. I'll see if I can get a fire going. Dutch- Thank you, Miss. Holden. She works on getting the fire together as Dutch hunts around the cabin. Dutch- Well there's no food anywhere but I found this. (holds a bottle) which I am sincerely hoping is some form of alcohol. They sit close together to get warm by the fire and drink the alcohol Dutch found. Grace- I hope Charles and Arthur got away ok. Dutch- Oh I'm sure they did. Grace- What happened back there? Why was there another coach? Dutch- I don't know. I guess the information we got was wrong somehow. Such a damn waste, all for nothing. Grace- I was going to wait til we got back to camp but, well it wasn't totally for nothing... She pulls a massive money stack and 2 large bags of jewellery out of her satchel. Dutch- How on earth did you get this? Grace- When I was knocked down and took cover by the coach it was just sitting there, in a chest in the back. Dutch- Well how about that! Grace- I know I'm new to robbing rich folks but us hunters always know how to find what we're looking for. Dutch- You are an exceptional woman, Miss. Holden. Grace- (she takes another swig of drink) That I am, Dutch.

He moves closer. Dutch- I could definitely use an exceptional woman right now. He kisses her passionately and she makes no move to stop him.

The abandoned cabin, Early morning, the next day.

Grace wakes early and heads outside to see to Dutch's horse. She's feeling rather unwell and Dutch comes outside just as she's being sick. Dutch- Are you ok, Miss. Holden? Grace- I'm fine. I think it was whatever that drink was last night.

Dutch- I see. About last night- Grace- We should be getting back to camp. Everyone is probably worried not knowing if you're safe or not. Dutch- (hesitantly) Of course.

They get onto Dutch's horse and set off back home towards camp.

Clements Point camp, Afternoon, later that day.

As Dutch and Grace arrive back, everyone is pleased to see them. Arthur comes straight over to them both. Arthur- Well I am glad you're both ok, but Dutch, what the hell happened last night? Dutch- Arthur, it doesn't matter. We might not have come away with everything we hoped for but we didn't end up empty handed. Miss. Holden managed to get this. He takes out the money and jewellery bags and walks back to his tent clearly happy with how events turned out. Arthur- (looks to Grace) You ok? (he points to the marks on her face.) Grace- I'm fine. Just scratches. Arthur- Well at least you two were successful. Grace- What? Arthur- The money, and jewellery. Grace- I was just lucky. Arthur- Well you've certainly made Dutch happy. Are you sure you're ok? Grace- I'm fine, just tired. I'll see you later, Arthur. She walks away leaving Arthur a little confused.

Clements Point Camp, Evening, later that day.

A few of the gang including Grace are sitting around the fire, Arthur comes over to join them and sits himself next to her. Arthur- Hey. Grace- Hey. Arthur- Sadie and I was thinking of heading into Rhodes tomorrow wondered if you wanted to come with us, anything you needed? Grace- No. I'm fine, thank you. Arthur- Are you sure everything's ok? Did something happen with the stagecoach...? Grace- No, I'm fine, I'm just tired. I guess you were right, maybe heists aren't my thing. (She gets up.) I'll see you all in the morning. She walks away. Arthur hesitates for a moment and then decides to follow her but he stops when he sees Dutch is talking to her.

Dutch- Miss. Holden, are you... Is everything ok? Grace- I'm fine. Just going to sleep. Dutch- Of course. Again, good work on the stagecoach. Grace- Honestly it was nothing. Dutch- Not at all. You... You are becoming a fine member of this group. We're lucky to have you here...I'm lucky to have you here. Grace- Dutch- Dutch- I'll say no more. Just know that... you mean a lot to me. Grace- (she forces a slight smile) Goodnight Dutch. Dutch- Goodnight, Miss. Holden. She walks away and Dutch notices Arthur watching. He says nothing, but smiles and walks away back to his tent.

Several weeks pass in camp. Various jobs here and there, and the camp seems in good spirits for the most part. Grace is spending more and more time in the camp, rarely hunting. She has kept her distance from both Dutch and Arthur and spends time helping around camp but has also starting crafting jewellery and trinkets from animal parts such as teeth and claws.

Clements Point Camp, Late afternoon.

Arthur finds Grace sitting on the outskirts of camp working away on one of her necklaces. Arthur- Grace? Grace- Hey, Arthur. Arthur- You're quite hard to find these days. Grace- Just keeping myself out of trouble. Arthur- Well, I brought you some alligator teeth. Sadie said you were collecting them, or something? Grace- Oh, thank you. Arthur- So, what you doing with them? Grace- Sounds crazy but there's a bit of market for selling things like this in Saint Denis. Lots of rich folk who'll buy anything if you tell them it will bring them more money or improve their love life. Arthur- Sounds like I could do with one of those! Grace- (she smiles at him) Well...maybe I'll make you one sometime. Arthur- Well thank you. (he turns to leave) Grace- Arthur? (he turns back to face her) I was thinking about heading out to do some fishing sometime. Kieran said he found a pretty sweet spot around the cove from here. It's never really been my forte so I was wondering if you'd be up to giving me a few pointers sometime? Arthur- Well I'm not much of a fisherman, really. Javier is the one you should speak to. Grace- Oh. Ok. He goes to leave again but then catches on and turns back around. Arthur- But I've got some time now if you're not busy? We can just fish here, I can should you what I know? Grace- That would be great, thank you. Grace packs up her things and meets Arthur down on the dock in camp as he teaches her to fish, but this doesn't go unnoticed as Dutch is watching them.

Over the next few days  Arthur and Grace rekindle their friendship. Even heading out to the cove Kieran had mentioned and catching plenty of fish.

Clements Point Camp, Evening.

That evening a few of the gang are around the camp fire; with songs and drinking the mood is jovial. After a while the group starts to break up as they prepare for bed leaving Arthur and Grace sat alone by the fire chatting.

Grace- I keep forgetting but I have something for you. Arthur- Oh yeah? What is it? Grace- Here. (She pulls out a talisman necklace and hands it to him.) Arthur- Hey, you finally made me one. Grace- No, actually, this one's different. This is an Indian talisman. It's made from wolf's teeth. It was given to me when I'd finally proven myself to be loyal to the tribe I was with. Arthur- What did you have to do; hunt down the wolves?! Grace- (she smiles) No. But the point is, it's supposed to offer protection to who wears it. I know you've got your guns to do that but with everything the way it is I figure a little extra doesn't hurt. Arthur- Well, thank you. But what about you? Grace- Oh I think I'm well enough protected. (They look at eachother and smile.)

Arthur- I feel like I keep learning new things about you every time we speak. Grace- (She smiles and stands up.) I guess I better get to sleep. Arthur- Sure. Goodnight... Grace. Grace- Goodnight, Arthur. As she walks away she notices Dutch standing with Micah, he's been watching them both the whole time. She stops and turns back to Arthur. Grace- And Arthur? You know you should never go hunting the wolves. Arthur- Why not? Grace- Because the wolves will hunt you.

Her face is serious and concerned but she forces a flicker of a smile and walks away. Arthur can now see that Dutch is watching but before he can think too much Charles comes over and sits next to Arthur. Charles- So have you told her you love her yet? Arthur- What? No. I mean after everything that's happened she... She doesn't... Charles- (he laughs and shakes his head) Oh Arthur. They both look over to see Dutch trying to talk to Grace as she makes her excuses and walks away. Charles- Honestly, if you care about her, you shouldn't wait to tell her. You never know what might happen.

Clements Point Camp by the dock, later that night.

Everyone is asleep as Grace is sat alone down by the dock. Arthur sees her and wanders over. Arthur- Thought you'd gone to bed? Grace- Oh, I couldn't sleep. Arthur- You want some company? Grace- Sure. (he sits with her) Arthur- We caught some good fish earlier. Grace- Yeah we did. Pearson's happy he's cooking something other than deer for once. Arthur- Oh I'm sure he'll find some reason to complain about it though. Grace- More than likely. The conversation is so stilted and awkward. Neither really knowing what to say.

Arthur- I've enjoyed our fishing trips together. It's...been nice, spending time with you again. Grace- It has. I've missed you, Arthur...but... I need to tell you something- Arthur- I need to say something too, Grace. I think... Well I know, I should have said it sooner. I mean I'm not exactly great with talking and it's complicated, I guess... Grace- Arthur... Dutch- Arthur! The moment is broken as Dutch walks over Dutch- Sorry to interrupt, Miss Holden but I need to speak to Arthur. Grace- (flustered by the sudden intrusion.)  Of course, it's already late. Arthur, we can talk tomorrow? Arthur- (through gritted teeth.) Sure. What is it Dutch? Dutch- That train we've been planning to hit, Micah says it's coming through tomorrow night. We need to go over the plan and make sure we're ready. Arthur- And this couldn't have waited til the morning? Dutch- I'm sorry, Arthur, did you have more pressing matters to deal with? Arthur stares at Dutch for a moment, weighing up his reactions, he sighs and shakes his head. Arthur- No. Dutch- Good, come on then, Micah's waiting. They head into Dutchs tent, Arthur reluctant and heavy hearted.

The Train Tracks, late evening.

Everyone is in place ready to stop and rob the train travelling with very wealthy passengers. Arthur, John, Charles and Sean are with the oil wagon on the tracks. Dutch and Grace are dressed up riding as passengers on board the train. The train stops as planned and they all begin to rob the  passengers.

But things don't quite go to plan as the law seems more than ready for them. Whilst they try to fight, they realise they are more than outnumbered and all start running. They spot a barn in the distance and head towards it, Grace falls behind and is pursued by a loan gunmen who shoots her in the leg. She falls down but manages to shoot him dead before he can finish the job. The rest of the gang are almost at the barn when Charles realises Grace isn't with them. He turns and sees her far behind them on the ground and races back. Grace rips her petticoat and ties up the bullet wound in her leg just as Charles gets to her. He helps her up and they run to the barn to hide with the others. Arthur- Are you ok? Were you hit? Grace- No, I'm fine. I just fell. John- Anyone still following? Grace- No that guy was the last of them. Charles- (looking through a crack in the barn) We've got a problem. Someone from in the house. They peak out and notice a man with a gun coming out of the house and towards the barn. Sean- What do we do now? John- He's only one man... Grace who is still looking notices the man on the veranda but now with a woman, and two children standing in the doorway. Grace- No, there's a whole family there. They might not have seen us all come in. You all climb up there, Charles and I will remove the ladder and stay here. The men move to the top level of the barn, and after removing the ladder Grace and Charles hide. The old man appears at the barn doors ready to shoot. Man- I know you're in here, there's no point in hiding. Grace slowly emerges from her hiding place with her hands up. Grace- (begging and weak) Please, sir. Please don't shoot. Man- What the hell are you doing in here and where's the other one I saw. Grace indicates to Charles to come out. Charles- We don't mean any harm, sir. Man- I heard gunfire. You running from the law? Grace- No, not at all. That... That was my uncle. He was crazy and furious with us... We... We're in love and we needed to run away. The man's wife arrives behind him. Woman- What on earth is going on? Man- These kids say they're running away together. But I don't know if I believe them, heard gunfire an' all. Grace- Please, we're not hurting anyone At that moment, on the upper level Sean knocks against something making a noise. The man raises his gun aggressively and walks towards them.

Man- Are you lying? Is there someone else in here? Grace- No, no there isn't, I swear. Please! (Grace looks to the wife.) I... I'm pregnant. Man- What? Grace- I'm pregnant. It's... It's why we had to run away. Please, please don't hurt us! Both the man and woman's attitudes change immediately and the man lowers his gun. Woman- Well, I guess we can't have you sleeping out here, can we. Man- No...I guess not, but we ain't no charity, it's just for tonight. But I'll be damned if I let a pregnant woman sleep out in a barn. Charles- Thank you, both. Grace and Charles follow the Man and Woman into the house, leaving the rest of the gang stuck on the top level of the barn. Sean- Well this is bloody great! So we have to stay up here whilst they get wined and dined. Arthur- Don't be such an idiot, we'd be in trouble if they hadn't believed all that. John- It's too high to risk jumping down but we might have to try if they don't manage to get the ladder back. An hour or so passes and John sees Charles climbing out of a window and down a trellis on the house. He gets to the barn and puts the ladder back in place. Sean- Am I glad to see you, I didn't think you were ever coming back. Dutch – Are you and Grace ok? Charles- We're fine. Nice family. They've said we can stay the night but we'll try and leave as soon as we can. John - I honestly can't believe that worked! Dutch- Of course it did. No one resists the helpless plea of a pregnant woman. It's the perfect lie for sympathy. Charles- That may be, but its not a lie. Arthur- What you on about, Charles?

Charles- Grace. She is pregnant. Hosea's been making some remedies for the sickness. Arthur- Jesus. Charles-I better get back before they realise I'm missing. We'll get back to camp as soon as we can. He leaves Sean- (looking at Arthur) Pregnant? Wonder what that's all about eh, Arthur? Arthur- We need to get back to camp. Dutch- We need to speak to Hosea. John- Come on let's go, it's gonna take a while on foot.

Clements Point Camp, Early morning, the next day.

By the time they get back it's nearly light. Arthur and Dutch storm to see Hosea who is sitting reading the paper at the table. Arthur- Hosea, what the hell is going on. Hosea- And good morning to you both, gentlemen. Dutch- Don't play coy, Hosea. We know about Grace. Hosea- Oh dear, I was afraid we couldn't keep this secret for too much longer. Dutch- Why didn't you say something? Hosea- Because it wasn't for me to say. Arthur- Well you told Charles. Hosea- I needed some supplies! Arthur- Dammit, Hosea! Dutch- How long has she been coming to see you? Hosea- I don't know. A few weeks now, I guess but of course she could have been pregnant for longer. Dutch- How much longer? Hosea- I don't know.

Arthur- Wait... why does it matter how long she... (Arthur's face drops with realisation) You... Dutch- Arthur... Arthur- You!... Hosea- Gentlemen! Arthur realises most of the camp is now watching. He pushes Dutch away slightly with a roar. Dutch- Where are you going Arthur? Arthur- Somewhere I can't shoot you from!!! Arthur gets on his horse and rides away. Dutch- (to everyone else) – Well, don't you all have things to be getting on with!! He heads back to his tent to be alone.

Clements Point Camp, Afternoon, later that day.

Charles and Grace have finally made their way back to the camp and as they arrive they notice everyone watching them, all now aware of what's been going on. Grace- (To Charles) Well... I guess my secret's no longer secret. Grace manages to stay away from everyone for the rest of the day, until Sadie finds her late that evening right on the outskirts of the camp and persuades her to come back. As they're walking back Dutch stops them both. Dutch- Sadie, would you ask Ms. Grimshaw and the girls to sort out some hot water for Miss. Holden in my tent please. Sadie- Of course, Mr. Van der Linde. (She leaves.) Dutch- (to Grace) Why don't we find somewhere to sit and wait. Grace reluctantly agrees and they head to the scout camp to wait. Dutch- You really didn't have to keep this a secret you know. Grace- I know, and I'm sorry I should have told you sooner. Dutch- I spoke with Hosea. He... He says he's not sure how long it's been... She doesn't answer.

Dutch- It's Arthur's isn't it. Grace- Dutch, I'm so sorry. I know how much it would have meant to you- Dutch- There is absolutely no need to be sorry. Grace- I feel like I've betrayed you- Dutch- No, not at all. You are incredibly loyal, and I am proud to have you here. But perhaps, no more secrets from now on? Grace- Of course. Dutch- (he holds her tight.) I'm sure that water is warm by now. You can get cleaned up and I'd like to offer you my tent for tonight, we can hardly have you sleeping on the floor. Grace- Thank you...for everything. They go to Dutch's tent, Susan has just finished, she smiles and leaves. Dutch- I'll be outside if you need anything. She starts to undress her top half, she has several bruises and cuts on her back, he watches her for a second, sighs and closes the tent.

Clements Point Camp, Early morning, the next day.

Arthur arrives back at camp looking worse for wear and is still a little drunk. Kieran is awake and cleaning the table. Members of the camp are stirring. Arthur- O'Driscoll. You seen Grace? Kieran- Arthur! Uh... Arthur- Come on boy where is she? Kieran hesitates as someone else now walks over and he glances nervously to Dutch's tent. Kieran- She's uh... Arthur- Get outta my way. He pushes Kieran out of the way and storms over to Dutch's tent where he sees Grace asleep in his bed. He looks around for Dutch and sees him down by the lake. Kieran is stuttering around panicked, and trying to wake people. People are now getting up and see Arthur storm off. Dutch turns just as Arthur reaches him. Dutch- Arthur- Arthur- You son of a bitch.

Dutch- You remember who you're talking to! Arthur- And who am I talking to, Dutch? You think you're so damned important, so above anyone else that you can just take whatever you want without thinking of anyone else but yourself? Dutch- Grace? I didn't take her, she CAME to me. She came to me because you weren't here! Arthur- No, you were always there, sneaking your way in behind my back. Actually you didn't even have the decency to do it behind my back! Dutch- You're being ridiculous. Arthur- It doesn't matter now does it. You won! Dutch- Won? It's not a game, Arthur! I love her. Arthur- So do I! Dutch- Oh yes, so great a love it must be. Such a fine MAN you must be that you can't even tell her that! Arthur, without thinking pushes Dutch, who falls to the ground. Dutch starts laughing and looks at Arthur. Arthur- What is wrong with you?!

Dutch- (he stops laughing and looks up at Arthur, almost sad) It's yours, Arthur. The baby is yours. Arthur- What? Dutch- Grace told me. But as usual you ran away. It's probably for the best she came to me. What kind of father would you be anyway. Arthur completely snaps and pulls Dutch to his feet in a rage, ready to beat him as Grace shouts out. Arthur turns around to see Grace. As she'd hurried out of Dutch's tent she banged the stitched up bullet wound which  reopened. Her dress now soaked in blood, she calls out Arthur's name before dropping to the floor.

Dutch and Arthur run over and shout for Hosea. They roll her over and see the blood. Arthur- Is it the baby? Dutch- Hosea!!!! Hosea runs over to them. Arthur- Is it the baby? Hosea- I'm not sure, I don't think so... Hosea moves Graces skirt to reveal the split open bullet wound. Arthur- What the... Hosea- It...it looks like...a bullet wound? Arthur- (shaking her to consciousness) Grace...hey, Grace, what... what happened? Grace- The other night...after the train, I got hit before we got to the barn...I stitched it up...to go...to the doctor... Hosea- Did you get the bullet out? Grace-I couldn't.... It was too...deep. Hosea-We need to get her to the doctor straight away. Dutch-Rhodes isn't that far. Hosea- There isn't a proper doctor there, we need to get her to Saint Denis. Dutch-Will she make it that far? Arthur- She'll make it. Come on, Grace. (He picks her up) Dutch- Hosea ride in the back with Arthur. Charles with me upfront. They get into the wagon and race to Saint Denis.

Saint Denis, Doctors Office, Late Afternoon, later that day.

Arthur and Dutch are waiting in a corridor as the Doctor approaches. Doctor- Are you the gentlemen who brought Miss. Holden in? Arthur- Yes, we are. How is she? Doctor- She's going to be ok, got her here just in time, I'd say.

Dutch- And the baby? Doctor- No, I'm afraid not. Arthur- Can we see her? Doctor- Of course. She was asking to see someone called Arthur earlier; I presume that's one of you? Arthur- That's me. Doctor- Ah then follow me. He leads Arthur to the room where Grace is.

Arthur- Grace... Grace- Arthur...I'm glad you're still here. Arthur- I...Why on earth didn't you tell us about- Grace- The baby? Honestly can you even imagine, with everything that's going on right now... Arthur- Abigail had Jack... Grace- Things were pretty different back then so I'm told. But now, since Blackwater, it's different and it's not safe. I'd have been sent out of the camp. Arthur- Dutch wouldn't let that happen. You could walk up right up to him and shoot him in the chest and he'd still welcome you back with open arms. He loves you. .. Well...we all do... Grace- I'm not so sure everyone does... (Arthur avoids her eyes) I've caused a lot of trouble. Dutch walks into the room Dutch- Not at all. You just work on getting better and we'll get you back to camp as soon as we can. Grace- Thank you... Both....thank you. Dutch smiles and walks out, Arthur goes to follow. Grace- Arthur.... the baby... It was... Arthur- I know. But I guess that doesn't matter now. Grace-No. I guess not. Arthur- We'll see you soon, Grace.

Clements Point Camp, Afternoon, A few days later.

After a few days resting in Saint Denis, Grace is back at the camp. Although there are no ill feelings towards her, she doesn't feel settled knowing how much trouble she's caused. Dutch, however doesn't seem to notice and is doing everything he can to make sure she is ok.

Dutch- And you're sure there's nothing else you need? Grace- (she forces a grateful smile) No, honestly Mr. Van der Linde I'm fine and I promise I'll be back to helping out here and back out hunting in no time. Dutch- Well you take it easy till you're completely back to health. And if you need anything you just come straight to me, ok? Grace- I will, thank you. Dutch- You are more than welcome, my dear. Grace walks away smiling as Arthur approaches, annoyed by Dutch's behaviour towards Grace.

Arthur- Back on the old Dutch charm I see... Dutch- Not this again, Arthur; do you have a problem with my looking after Miss Holden? Arthur- I guess that depends, Dutch. What exactly are you planning? Dutch- Arthur, I don't expect you to understand someone's true value. Arthur- Value? What is she now, some kind of possession to be owned? Dutch- She's valuable, Arthur. To me. I saw her worth long before you ever opened your eyes. Arthur- Hasn't she been through enough? Dutch- And whose fault is that? Arthur- You're blaming this all on me? Do you really think she's gonna want anything to do, with either of us after everything that's happened? Dutch- I guess we'll see won't we.

Clements Point Camp, Late afternoon, later that day.

Grace, troubled by what she heard speaks to Karen and Sadie about it all.

Karen- Well, I certainly wouldn't mind having two men fighting over me. God knows I could use the excitement! Grace- It's not like that though, I feel like a prize cow having two bulls butting horns over me. It's not fair to the rest of the camp to have this going on. I...I think I should leave. Sadie- Now don't say that. There's a lot going on for everybody right now. And all this, well I'm sure it will all die down soon enough. Grace- I really hope you're right.

Clements Point Camp, Midnight.

Grace has quietly packed up all her belongings, and is sneaking out of the camp with her horse, but someone in the shadows is watching. Micah- And where are you off to? Grace- Micah! I... Micah- Got a lotta stuff there. Looks to me like you're leaving. Grace- I...am. Micah- (he goes back to sharpening his knife) I see. For good? Grace- I think it's best.

Micah- Well far be it from me to get involved. I mean... I've seen them disagree on a lot of things but I ain't ever seen them hatin' each other quite like this. You really got under their skin. Grace- I know. It's why I've got to go. Micah- Well...good luck to you. Grace- You wont tell anyone you saw me will you? Micah- Not at all. Your secret's safe with me. Grace- Thanks, Micah. Grace gets on her horse and rides out of camp. Micah sits, sharpening his knife with a sickening grin on his face.

Clements Point Camp, Midday, the next day.

Dutch is asking around the camp for Grace, concerned as Arthur is also nowhere to be found. He eventually opens her tent to find all her belongings gone. Dutch- Ms. Grimshaw have you seen Miss. Holden? Ms. Grimshaw- No, not since last night. Why what's the matter? Dutch- She's gone. All of her things too. She's just gone. Karen- (overhearing and walking over) Oh my. She really did it. Ms. Grimshaw- Karen what on earth are you chattering about? Karen- Well...she said yesterday she thought it would be best if she left. She couldn't stand everything going on with....well with Dutch and Arthur...you know, fighting all the time. Dutch- (shouting to Lenny) Who was on guard last night? Lenny- Micah was, I think. Dutch- Well where on earth is he? Lenny- I don't know. He left early this morning said he had some business to sort out, didn't say where. Charles has now come over concerned with Grace's disappearance. Charles- He could be anywhere. Dutch- She could be anywhere! Charles, Lenny head out to Rhodes see if anyone saw her passing through. Lenny- Sure. Before they get to their horses Arthur rides back into camp. Arthur- What's all the commotion about? Charles- Grace. She's gone. Lenny- And Micah too. Arthur- (he laughs) What they run off together? Lenny- No Grace left last night. Taken all her things. Karen said she had been talking about getting away from the camp. Arthur- What? Karen why the hell didn't you say something?!

Karen-I didn't know she was going to do it! She was just talking. Arthur- So wait, what's Micah got to do with all this? Charles- Micah was on guard last night he must have seen her leave. But he's gone off somewhere, no one knows where he is. Dutch asked us to head to Rhodes see if she came through that way incase anyone saw her. Arthur looks over and sees Dutch watching them all. Arthur- Fine, I'll come too.

Rhodes, Afternoon, later that day.

They get to Rhodes and ask around. It seems someone did see her; she was buying supplies and mentioned that she might head to Van Horn. Arthur- Look it's pointless us all going. You both head back to camp, I'll head out and see if I can find her. Lenny- Ok, but what do we tell Dutch? Arthur- Tell him.... Tell him I'm going to sort this mess out once and for all. Charles- Just be careful, Arthur. They separate with Arthur riding towards Van Horn.

Van Horn Saloon, Later that evening.

Arthur trudges into the bar, it's late and he looks weary. Arthur- (to the bartender) Hey, I'm looking for someone. Woman, dark hair, new around here.. Maybe looking for work? Bartender- Hmm, there was a girl here this morning. Don't know where she ended up though. You could try the hotel on the pier. Arthur- Thanks

Arthur heads to the hotel and walks upstairs. As he gets closer to the rooms, he can hear raised voices and commotion. He gets to the door and recognises Grace's voice. Grace- Gentlemen, I've asked you nicely now I'm telling you, leave me the hell alone! Man 2- Come on we just want to have a little fun. Grace- And I told you, I'm not here for that. Man 1- I don't really think you have a choice. The sound of something breaking causes Arthur to kick in the door to see two men and Grace. One of the men has Grace pushed up against the wall with his hand around her throat. Man 1- (looking at Arthur) This one joining in too? Grace kicks him and he hits her across the face causing her to fall to the floor. Arthur heads straight in lays a punch on the first guy who runs straight out. The one who hit Grace, is more than ready for a fight. Eventually Arthur gets the upper hand and is ready to beat the guy to death til Grace's voice breaks his rage and he stops.

Grace- Arthur! Stop! Arthur- (he looks at her and then drops the man). Get out of here! The man lurches to a stand and runs out. Arthur looks to Grace. Arthur- Looks like I got here just in time. Grace- I was handling it Arthur- Yeah you were definitely doing fine by yourself . Grace- I don't need you to save me, Mr. Morgan. Arthur- So it's Mr. Morgan now? Look stop being stubborn and let me take you home. Grace- Are you deaf as well as stupid? I told you I don't need you.

Arthur- You need something! (he sighs and calms down) Look just come home. Grace- Home to what? Arthur- To everyone. Grace- So I can watch you and Dutch at each other all the time! Arthur- It's not gonna be like that anymore. Grace- No you're right, it wont be like that because I won't be there. I have caused enough trouble, (she pauses) and I have no reasons to come back. Arthur- You have plenty of reasons! Grace- Do I?! Give me one reason, Arthur. They stare at eachother. Her stare is challenging and piercing. He breathes heavy, as she stares back. It exhausts him but like a man challenged in a duel he finally draws. Arthur- Why do you women always make every thing so god damn complicated!!Grace, with everything like it is right now,  I'm having trouble keeping my wits about me as it is. There just doesn't feel like there's time for anything else and no matter what's happened I made a promise to Dutch, to everyone, to see this through til the end. Grace- I know all that, Arthur. But why is it too ‘complicated' for us to do that together? I was never asking for us to leave everything behind and ride off into the sunset. I know what this life is and I don't care where or when it ends. I wanted to see it through too but I wanted to see it through with you! Arthur- Why the hell would you wanna do that? I have nothing. I am nothing!

Grace- Well then I love nothing because I love you, Arthur Morgan. I love you! Arthur- And I love you! Grace- Then perhaps, you could stop making it so damn hard for us to be together? Arthur- You're the one who ran off! She glares at him, but then softens. He pauses for a moment and his voice quietens. Arthur- Look, I- Grace- If you say it's gonna be complicated one more time- Arthur- I was gonna say, I'll try.... You and me... I guess we could try something. Grace- (a little taken back) Well...I...I guess that's a good start. Arthur- But, you have to understand I can't leave. Not the gang, nor Dutch, I was gonna before- Grace- Arthur, stop. (reassuringly) I'm not going to ask you to leave. Not now. Not ever. Not for anything. Arthur- (he moves to sit down on the bed) It just, it doesn't seem like a life for a family. I look at Abigail with Jack and John when he's there. It just doesn't seem right. They deserve more. You deserve more. You're too good for all this. You're a good woman, Grace. Grace- Arthur, I don't know where you got this idea that I'm a good person, I might have a good background but it's not the same thing. I've made my choices and I'm here. Arthur- And this is the life that you want? With me? Grace- What other life is there? Swanning around in some big house somewhere, pretending I'm somebody important? Someone 'good'? I don't want to spend my life pretending to be something I'm not and you shouldn't either.

Arthur- But all this, running jobs, running away, all in the name of some big plan that Dutch has set out for us? Grace- Dutch is a good man. Arthur- Oh I know, I mean, I trust him with my life. But where does it end? Getting killed on a job or by bounty hunters or the pinkertons catching up with us one day? Grace - It doesn't matter how it ends. We're all gonna die some day, Arthur, every damn one of us; but I'm not afraid of it. I know what's coming to me, I made my peace with that a long, long time ago. Arthur- What do you mean? Grace- (she pauses, for a moment, wondering whether to tell him) When I was a kid, I shot the guy who killed my parents. One of them anyway. And my Aunt and Uncle who eventually took me in... let's just say they did some truly awful things to me and one day...well I knew that just had to stop. But I didn't feel a thing.  Not at all. And god knows I've killed people for a lot less good reasons since then. Arthur- I've lost count of the men I've killed. Mostly in the name of something that I'm not sure I believe in anymore. Grace- You still believe or you wouldn't be here. Arthur- I know. But do you think a person can ever change? Do good, be a better man and that it then means something? Grace- Maybe, if your heart is really true, I guess, if you really want to change. But I think it'll take more than a little redemption to stop the devil catching up with me. Arthur- Well I guess that's me done then. Grace- (she takes his hand.) Listen, none of that matters. What's here and now, that's what matters. Arthur you just...You just keep going til the end. Whatever that may be. Arthur- I guess I should marry you before we all end up dead. Grace- Marry me, huh?! Arthur- (he realises what he's said and looks at her.) I... Grace- I've seen you face hundreds of men with guns before but I have never seen you look so scared! (she laughs it off.) Come on. I haven't exactly unpacked.  I'll just grab my things and we should get out of here. She heads to the chest and grabs her things when she turns around she notices Arthur hasn't moved from the bed.

Grace- Arthur? Are you ok? He's looking down at something in his hand. His thoughts broken by her voice he looks up at her. Grace- Arthur? Arthur- I was thinking... Grace- I told you before, you need to stop doing that. Arthur- (he holds out a ring) Will you.... marry me? . Grace- What? Arthur- You said it, we could be dead tomorrow- Grace- It's not quite what I meant- Arthur- I mean...You're right! I have nothing. I don't even have a real ring, I have this. I don't even know where this came from, but..I have you.

Grace- Are you sure... about this? Arthur- I'm not really sure of any thing much any more, but you.... you I'm sure of. Grace-... Okay. I... guess so... Arthur- You guess? Grace- I'll marry you, ok! They both smile at one another. Arthur- I promise I'll get you another ring. Grace- Arthur, I'm marrying 'you' . If this ring is stolen, and well, we both know that it is, then it's absolutely perfect. They kiss, but the moment is broken when the men who Arthur beat up return along with several others looking for pay back. Grace and Arthur manage to fight their way out of the Van Horn hotel and ride off back towards Clements Point.

Clements Point Camp, late afternoon, the next day.

It's the next day and Arthur and Grace ride in to camp. Sadie and Charles see them arrive and head over. Sadie- Well I am glad to see you both back here together. (noticing the marks on Grace's face and neck) Are you, ok? Grace- Oh, I'm fine, I...got myself into some trouble, but Arthur turned up just in time. Sadie- So what happened; where did you end up? Just as Grace starts to speak Micah wanders over. Micah- Well, I thought you weren't ever coming back? Grace- I wasn't but... Arthur...asked me to marry him. So here I am; I guess, back for good.

Micah- Well ain't that just lovely. Guess I better go tell Dutch the happy news! Arthur- Micah! (but he's already walked off). Damn weasel! The group has gathered around and congratulates Arthur and Grace. Charles especially giving Arthur a big hug. Arthur- Thanks, I uh... Better go speak to Dutch. Arthur leaves Grace with the group and wanders over to Dutch's tent just as Micah walks away.

Arthur- Dutch- Dutch- Micah tells me there's cause for celebration? Arthur- Yeah... I guess....look, Dutch; I didn't mean this to- Dutch- I'm not taking it personally, Arthur. Miss Holden is a fine woman. Capable of making her own decisions. And you, my son are a fine man. I'm...happy for you. Arthur- Thank you. Grace comes over. Dutch- I'm happy for you both. (he forces a smile) Grace- Arthur can I speak to Dutch alone for a minute please? Arthur- Sure. Arthur walks away a little reluctantly. Grace and Dutch look at eachother for a moment neither sure what to say. Dutch finally breaks the silence. Dutch- Well, I never thought you to be the marrying type, Miss Holden. Grace- Neither did I, but...Arthur is a good man. Dutch- He is. And you... love... him? Grace- (she looks him right in the eyes and pauses for a moment) I do. Dutch looks away. Grace- Dutch... You need to know. I'd do anything for you. You gave me a life and I will always owe you that. No matter what, that will never change.

She kisses him on the cheek and then walks away to join the others with Arthur, who holds her tightly, a little afraid to now let go.

Clements Point Camp, Early Afternoon.

Blessed are the Peacemakers. Micah convinces Dutch to meet with the O'Driscolls for a parle to hopefully put an end to their feud. Arthur is asked to join them as a lookout in case it all goes sour. It seems, however, that there was never any intention of a truce, as Arthur is captured.After managing to escape where the O'Driscolls were holding him, he is found by Grace, who went out determined to find him. She brings him back to camp where he recovers. Ultimately she blames Dutch for letting this happen.

Clements Point Camp, Late afternoon, several weeks later.

Arthur is sat by the lake with Grace, he has a long hair and beard after several weeks recovering. Grace- I spoke with Reverend Swanson, he's sorted something out with the church in Rhodes. Says we can get married as soon as we like. Arthur- I'm surprised you still want to. Grace- Well I wasn't expecting you to take your "we could be dead tomorrow" speech quite so literally but... When Dutch told me that you hadn't made it back.... Well I gave him hell for it! I thought I'd lost you. So as soon as you feel up to it, I'd still like to, whilst we're both still in one piece. Maybe get you a hair cut in the mean time though.

Arthur- I was thinking of keeping it. Grace- Arthur, I always said I would never try to change you and the life you lead but get a hair cut, please! You look like you've been living in a cave. They both laugh.

Outside Rhodes Church, Midday, a few days later.

Grace and Arthur have just been married, as they step outside the sun is shining and the whole gang is there to celebrate. Sean walks out in front and then turns to face them. Sean- I still can't believe what I'm seeing. The great Arthur Morgan getting married. The world's gone mad! Arthur- I'm gonna get mad if you don't shut up!

Sean- Ah I'm only messing with you, Arthur! This is amazing. I'm so happy for you both. Grace come here and give your new brother a hug. You're definitely one of us now. Grace smiles and heads towards Sean to give him a hug as she does the crack of a bullet is heard and Sean is shot in the head. Grace's wedding dress is covered in blood as the gang scatters in panic. Dutch order's most of the gang to get back to the camp as a gun fight now ensues. Turns out the Gray's were waiting for an opportunity to hit them and they did just that. After the firefight they get Sean's body and head back to camp.

Clements Point Camp, Early evening, later that day.

As Arthur, Dutch and the rest of the gang get back to camp they discover that in the panic at the wedding someone managed to grab Jack. They suspect that the Braithwaites took him so the majority of the gang set out to bring him back. Before he leaves Arthur turns to Grace, who's still standing in her blood stained dress. Arthur- Grace I...God damn, everything has gone to hell! Grace- It's not your fault Arthur, it's not. But... but Sean? Just gone....and now Jack's been taken.

Arthur- I am so sorry. Grace- Don't be...Just go bring that boy back. Arthur- We will. For what it's worth; I love you. Grace- I love you too. Arthur saddles up and rides out with the gang towards Braithwaite manor.

And from there the story continues as it does in game. After I'd written this I did find this time to be a bit of a turning point in Dutch's behaviour – especially with him not bothering to rescue Arthur after being captured, and somewhat felt that him losing Grace to Arthur could have easily been the catalyst for him growing suspicious and unhinged.  Although there of course would be clashes with the existing RDR2 story I couldn't not write a slightly different ending (high honour, helping John, and also Grace's epilogue) so read on...

The Mountain, Night.

Arthur, Grace and John are fighting their way through along the mountain, Arthur, exhausted by it all stops to catch his breath.

John- Alright, Arthur, come on, let's go. Arthur- You go. Grace- Keep pushing, Arthur. Arthur- No... (he coughs wiping blood from his mouth) No, I think I've pushed all I can. Grace- Come on! Arthur- You go. John- We ain't got time for this, not now. Arthur- We ain't all going to make it. Go... now. I'll hold them off. Grace- Arthur. Arthur takes off his hat and places it on John's head. Arthur- It would mean a lot to me. Please. There ain't no more time for talk. Go. Go to your family. John- Arthur- Arthur- Grace... Grace- We said to the end. Arthur- This is the end. Grace- Not like this? Arthur- Like this. Grace- But, Arthur I- Arthur- I know. Grace looks at him, pain seeping into her eyes. Arthur- You get him back to his family, ok? She nods and he whispers something in her ear.

Grace- I love you. Arthur- I love you too. Now both of you, get out of here. John- You're my brother. Arthur- I know... I know. They all take one last look at eachother as Arthur clambers up the mountain and John and Grace make their escape. After Arthur's death John and Abigail wanted Grace to stay with them, but she told them she couldn't, that she wanted to head out on her own and at least try and live the life that Arthur so desperately wanted. When asking about Arthur's belongings Grace told John he should keep them, that there was only 1 thing she wanted but the rest was his. "I was only his wife. But you? You were family".  She left, and John and Abigail never heard from her again.

Grace's epilogue. Year 1914.

We see an older Grace sat on the veranda of a ranch house. It's early evening and the sun is low in the sky. A male voice is heard. Voice- Are you coming inside? Grace- (she sounds a little breathless and weak but she smiles) I'll be there in a few minutes... Arthur.

Flashback to the night Grace and John left Arthur on the mountain. Arthur- “You get him back to his family ok?”  (He whispers in her ear whilst placing his hand on her stomach) “and you look after ours.”

Back on the veranda a boy of around 15 walks over to Grace and crouches beside her.

Arthur Jr - How are you feeling? Grace - A little tired. Arthur Jr. - Ok, well don't stay out here too long. (He stands up and kisses her on the head.) Grace- I won't. I love you. Arthur Jr.- I love you too. He goes inside leaving Grace alone. Her breathing is slowing as she watches the sun sink lower in the sky. She smiles and closes her eyes. As her life fades, smile still on her face, the sun finally disappears below the horizon as her hand falls to her side letting go of what she was holding...

[schoolpsychlife]

How To Review A Manuscript Journal editors identify 10 key steps for would-be reviewers

APA Monitor on Psychology, May 2018

By Chris Palmer

While your first thought may be, "I don’t have time for this," reviewing manuscripts can be a great opportunity. Reviewers get an early view of what’s happening in their fields, better insight into how the review process works and a chance to network, all of which can foster your career, says Rose Sokol-Chang, PhD, publisher of APA journals.

Potential reviewers land on the radar of journal editors in a variety of ways: They may have recently landed a tenure-track position, been lead author on a standout paper or even given a compelling talk at a conference.

But how, exactly, does a reviewer approach the manuscript-review process? Here are 10 keys from editors of APA journals to guide you:

1 GET TO KNOW THE REVIEW FORMAT At its core, a manuscript review is made up of three sections:

▪ The rating form. The editor will provide you a form for rating the manuscript on a predetermined list of attributes that will lead you to answer the central question: Do you think this journal should publish the manuscript?

▪ A note to the authors. This section—usually one to two pages—constitutes the bulk of the review. It summarizes the manuscript’s main points and includes general comments about the paper’s strengths and weaknesses. It also provides the authors with constructive feedback as well as a road map for arriving at the best possible version of their article.

▪ A note to the editor. This brief text conveys confidential comments to be read only by the journal editor, including whether any element of the paper is beyond the reviewer’s area of expertise.

2 FAMILIARIZE YOURSELF WITH THE JOURNAL After you have read the manuscript—and before you start writing—scour the journal and pay attention to how the articles are presented. Take note of the formatting, the order of the sections and the level of detail expected in the articles. Be sure that you have a clear understanding of the journal’s intended audience. Editors will often give you a list of instructions for your review as well. Tailor your review precisely to fit that journal. Also, find out the journal’s policy regarding reviewer anonymity. Some journals keep both the authors and the reviewers anonymous, while others give both parties the option to remain anonymous.

3 KNOW WHAT TO LOOK FOR Many journals provide reviewers with criteria for evaluating each section of a manuscript. In general, however, ask yourself if the article meets the following key benchmarks:

Overall, it makes a meaningful contribution to the field.

The science underlying the main idea is strong.

There are no significant gaps in the cited literature.

The results have not been previously published.

The research design is appropriate.

The right kinds of participants were used.

The sample size was adequate.

The correct statistics were used.

The interpretation of the data makes sense.

The findings are important and interesting to the journal’s readers.

The methods are explained well enough that the experiments can be replicated.

The discussion section integrates the findings with relevant theory rather than simply rehashing the introduction.

The writing is high quality.

In certain situations, some of these attributes may have an outsize impact. For example, a small sample size in a study performed with a difficult-to-study population, such as centenarians, will be given more leniency than a similar study using a small pool of college undergraduates as subjects. "Innovation and novelty need to be recognized," says Antonia Abbey, PhD, editor of Psychology of Violence.

4 ACCEPT, REJECT OR REVISE At the end of your process, you will recommend whether the journal should accept the manuscript as is, reject it outright or ask the authors to revise and resubmit the article. Unless you accept the manuscript as is—an extremely rare decision—you need to suggest ways to improve the paper for resubmission.

You also may choose to weigh in on whether the article would be a better fit for another publication. "The manuscript might be really good," Sokol-Chang says, "but perhaps not for that particular journal." An example would be if you’re reviewing a very technical manuscript for a broad journal such as American Psychologist, which focuses on major developments across all of psychology. "In your note to the author, you should feel free to make suggestions about the best place to resubmit the manuscript," Sokol-Chang adds.

5 MAP OUT A PLAN Having a set process for conducting your review can make the experience less daunting. William Stoops, PhD, editor of Experimental and Clinical Psychopharmacology, has developed a three-day process over the years that allows him to be deliberate and thoughtful without being rushed. On day one, he reads the manuscript through once without making comments or taking notes. "I sit at my desk, and I don’t have a pen in my hand; I don’t have anything. I just read it," he says. On day two, he marks up the manuscript with all his comments. On day three, he completes the rating form and types up his notes to the authors and the editor. Stoops came by this process through trial and error, and he says it may not suit everyone. "Everybody works differently," he says. "You just need to identify what works for you."

6 KNOW YOUR STATISTICS (AND IF YOU DON’T, JUST SAY SO) Many reviewers struggle with statistics, says Richard Gilman, PhD, editor of School Psychology Quarterly. Statistical methods have become so sophisticated in recent years that he requires at least one of the two reviewers to be a researcher or clinician with a strong statistical background. "Sometimes, a reviewer knows that the statistics are beyond them," he says. "So, they have a hard time formulating what their issues are with the manuscript." In these cases, the reviewer can still offer valuable feedback. "If the paper’s not landing well, separate yourself from the statistics and point out where the difficulties are," Gilman adds. He also suggests that the reviewer include a note for the editor if he or she feels that the statistics need to be looked at by an expert.

7 THINK BIG PICTURE While it’s important that details such as references are properly formatted, you’ve been asked to review the manuscript because of your subject-area expertise. So, dial back the copyediting and focus on the authors’ overall presentation of their research.

Sticking to the fundamentals will also keep your feedback to a manageable length, preferably no more than one to two single-spaced pages. "No one wants to read a four-page review," says Gilman. Besides, the small details will all change if the manuscript goes through substantive editing, he adds.

8 MEET YOUR DEADLINE Many journals operate on a 30-day turnaround. Some APA journals even request that reviews be returned within 21 days. Editors take their turnaround time seriously, so be upfront about whether you have time to complete the review, which typically requires one to four hours. If you do have to decline, says Stoops, a quick "no" is preferred so the editor can move on to ask someone else. "A lot of invitations to review have an expiry date," Stoops adds. "For my journal, we give folks four days to say yes."

If you do accept the invitation, stick to the deadline. "Nothing is more frustrating than waiting on reviewers to get their comments back," says Gilman.

If something comes up that will prevent you from making your deadline, it’s important to communicate that to your editor. Gilman says he’s happy to oblige if a reviewer needs more time: "I just want them to be in touch."

9 BE HONEST AND UPFRONT When an editor sends out a manuscript for review, he or she is doing so with a fair amount of trust. That means, among other things, that you cannot share the manuscript with anyone and that you must keep your thoughts about the unpublished manuscript to yourself.

The editor also expects the reviewer to report any potential conflicts of interest. The editor may not know, for example, that you reviewed the grant that funded the study. So, be sure to reveal that information and whether you feel you can be impartial. Often the authors’ names are not included, but if you become aware of conflicts, you should communicate with the editor. Also, if you don’t think you’re qualified to review a manuscript for any reason, communicate that to the editor, as well as what you would be interested in reviewing in the future.

"The editor may ask you to reconsider," Stoops says. "Or he may just say, ‘OK, I’ll keep you in mind if I see something that better fits your interests.’"

10 BE CONSTRUCTIVE AND KIND You’ve gone through the manuscript carefully and you’re ready to bullet point every flaw. But remember to lead with the positive.

"No paper is so bad that you can’t provide some sort of positive comments," says Gilman. Of course, you also need to deliver critical feedback, says Mary Beth Kenkel, PhD, editor of Translational Issues in Psychological Science. "Reviewers need to think of themselves not as judges, but as educators helping authors to improve their manuscripts by giving very clear, constructive notes."

RESOURCES

Journal Article Reporting Standards

(Open Access) Kazak, A.E. American Psychologist, Vol. 73, No. 1, 2018

Clinical Practice in Pediatric Psychology Mentoring Program for Junior Reviewers

www.apa.org/pubs/journals/cpp/reviewer-mentoringprogram.aspx

APA Collaborative Review Model

www.apa.org/pubs/journals/features/collaborative reviewmodel.policy.pdf

www.apa.org/pubs/authors/underrepresented.aspx

[aion-rsa]

Rick and Morty Season 5 Finale Review

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This RICK AND MORTY review contains spoilers.

Rick and Morty Season 5 Finale

It’s been a while, so let’s first recap the consistent problems with season five of Rick and Morty. Problem one is that characterization feels like it’s either pushed aside in favor of crazy, silly sci-fi nonsense or lost in a muddle of convoluted sci-fi nonsense. Problem two is that episodes are so overloaded with plot and dialogue delivered at such breakneck speed that there’s either no time for jokes or, packed in with everything else going on in these overstuffed episodes, they just don’t land. The missing characterization issue isn’t exclusive to season five, but the lack of laughs is; this has easily been the least-funny season yet.

Now, finally, after a month’s wait, we get the two-part season finale! Does it manage to avoid the problems that have haunted this season until now?

Not really! But some of it certainly looked cool.

“Forgetting Sarick Mortshall”

Though they’re both about testing the strength of Rick and Morty’s relationship and the first does directly lead into the next by virtue of… crows… these really are two separate episodes with two different focuses and tones. This first one is closer to a “normal” season five episode. Sure, it’s got Rick pissing Morty off so much that he goes off on his own anti-Rick adventure (with a dude fittingly named Nick), but, for the majority of the runtime, it’s not handled like it’s all that big of a deal.

Regardless, the inciting incident here of Morty accidentally getting portal juice on his hand, thus creating a portal in his hand that connects to Nick’s thigh is a really clever one. It’s unfortunate that an odd side effect of a series with a premise that allows for infinite sci-fi possibilities is that many concepts, no matter how much creative effort is put behind them, feel like retreads that fall into a similar category (e.g., the season premiere with its Narnia world that evolved at hyper-speed felt not entirely dissimilar from the sequence of Morty living an entire life in “The Vat of Acid Episode” which, in turn, felt not so dissimilar from that time he played Roy: A Life Well Lived). However, this portal in the hand thing feels totally new and fresh.

They get some good mileage out of it too, with some cool action sequences (like Jackie Chan!) and inspired moments like Morty making a dude eat shit, literally, by transferring the contents of a chamber pot by way of the hand/thigh portal system or when Nick takes control of the car Morty’s driving by sticking his hand through Morty’s portal hand. It’s also used smartly in the most effective dramatic moment in “Forgetting Sarick Mortshall” when Morty chooses to destroy his portal connection to Rick by placing his hand on a train track so that it’s severed off, and then drops the hand-portal into Nick’s thigh-portal to kill him. It’s all very clever, well-executed stuff, though, typing it out, it sure sounds weird.

How Morty comes to the decision to sever his hand and connection to Nick is less well-executed. It unfortunately brought to mind the episode with Planetina, perhaps the worst of season five, as in both episodes Morty realizes the person he’s spending time with ain’t so great because—shock horror—they’re cool with killing innocent people! Yes, Morty has a moral core, so it’s not like it doesn’t make some sense, but it’s just that, with the amount of people he and Rick murder out of petty anger or just by happenstance all the time, it feels like they need to sell his change of heart a little more.

The other half of this episode is about Rick replacing Morty with two crows, at first as a joke, but then he gradually comes to realize crows are actually cool and can teach him about empathy. The idea of it is that this “two crows” thing is engineered to be a silly, one-off inanity, but then the joke becomes so much more as the writers sincerely explore the concept. However, it never really successfully elevates itself above its initial inane premise. I still just found myself thinking “What is this crow bullshit? Why crows?”

It’s also becoming a bit of a predictable Rick and Morty staple that characters that appear incidental at first actually have a whole society and way of life we get to learn all about (the face-huggers, the Narnia people, the Chuds). It’s an obvious plot device to return to seeing as this is a sci-fi series about visiting new universes and alien worlds all the time, so it would be irrational to suggest they stop doing it altogether, but did this particular plot really need to go in that direction? The introduction of the crow society comes out of nowhere and it isn’t convincing that Rick decides to follow a path of empathy with his two crows right after he just killed a whole bunch of other crows. Anyway, the only thing that makes the crow plot “interesting” is that the writers commit to it so hard it carries into the next episode.

Season five style, “Forgetting Sarick Mortshall,” is not funny. I chuckled at the very last moment in the tag when Garbage Goober said “Mmm, trash, I love trash” and I smiled at Rick’s (possibly improv’d) rant about watching sitcoms on your shoes, but that was about it. Still, at least there were the aforementioned clever moments and it got a tiny bit emotional when Morty told Rick “I miss you, man” and when Rick admitted their relationship was abusive.

“Rickmurai Jack”

Lore, lore, lore! How do you like it? Hopefully you like it lots because “Rickmurai Jack” is chock full of the stuff!

The Rick and Morty team, however, absolutely hate it! Well, they can’t totally hate it, or they wouldn’t have bothered to make this episode, but they definitely have an acrimonious relationship with continuity and canon. Dan Harmon has stated before that giving Rick a tragic backstory would ruin the character and Rick himself reaffirms that opinion in the episode. In fact, the writers can’t help themselves in breaking the fourth wall throughout to remind us how much Rick hates canon and how it’s better to “keep it episodic.”

It’s understandable why they resent canon. It’s got to be much easier to write one-off, funny sci-fi adventures than to sustain serialized plots told over multiple episodes. Unfortunately for them, way the hell back in season one Rick and Morty destroyed their universe, killed alternate universe versions of themselves, and took their places. The series kept this plot point intact, referencing it later, and also gradually made Morty’s character more jaded in response to this, as well as the many other horrors he witnessed. In other words, they made this canon bed and now they have to have adventures in it (I know how this sounds and I’m fine with it).

Before it gets to all that serious canon, however, “Rickmurai Jack” has to honor the continuity of the previous episode by tidying away the stupid crow plot. The continuity is certainly sound: the crows weren’t funny in the last episode and they’re not funny in this one either! There’s an anime intro. There are villains whose names flash on the screen in big letters. There’s an arch-villain named CrowScare who has sex with Rick’s crows. Yeah. Fine. At least this part is done away with relatively quickly. (Side note: Odd that Rick becomes a bird-based superhero and yet there is nary a reference to Bird Person.)

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After this, the episode maintains the season five status quo by continuing to be unfunny. I don’t believe I laughed at this one at all, although I liked Evil Morty’s line, “I lied. That second seat’s a toilet.” The lack of comedy is a bit more forgivable, however, as “Rickmurai Jack” isn’t trying as hard to be funny. This really is the loreiest lorepisode they’ve ever done and so the focus is on backstory and continuity to do with Evil Morty’s long-gestating plan.

As one of the annoying nerds constantly complaining that this show doesn’t do enough character development anymore, I know I’m supposed to be thankful for this episode (Rick angrily says as much) and I am, somewhat. It’s cool to see Evil Morty again and to hear his awesome theme music. Personally, I was never asking for Rick backstory and I’m a bit surprised his origins more or less are just the easy answer of “dead wife” after all, but sure, that’s fine. More profound and fucked up is the origin of all the Mortys in the multiverse, engineered by Ricks to be the perfect sidekick.

I just wish all this development hadn’t been given to me, season five style, in such volume at such speed. The fact of the matter is I was straight-up confused about what the hell was going on sometimes. I understood Evil Morty’s plan enough to get that he’s extricating himself from the cycle of Ricks and Mortys (and maybe ending the cycle forever?), but where did he fly to? Did he kill every Rick and Morty ever except our protagonists and whoever they escaped with or just everyone in the Citadel for some reason? Did he remove all portal fluid from the multiverse? I also lost the plot of Rick’s backstory, not understanding why he was going around killing all these other Ricks until I watched it back and realized he was going after the Rick who had killed his wife and kid Beth; I still feel it could’ve been more clearly presented though. Also confusing was the sequence in Rick uses some of his blood to create Big Boy(?) who… transfers power to Rick when he’s attacked… or something?

Look, I know how this goes. I’m a stupid moron and the nerds in the comments will be more than ready to let me know that everything that was confusing to me was, in fact, completely obvious, duh-doy, and here’s why and I should stop watching the series, and so on, and so forth. However, something I’ve always marveled at (as I did only two episodes ago) with Rick and Morty is, despite how crazy and layered its ambitious plotting gets, I never lose track of what’s happening. So, either my very high IQ is dropping points or this shit was kind of confusing.

Regardless, it’s appreciated the creators of this show finally gave in and threw a bunch of continuity and canon in my whining face. It just would’ve been nicer if it had been delivered in a clearer way that was easier to process and to feel something about. Like, every time Evil Morty has appeared in the series, he’s been an intimidating and chilling presence. I did get chills when his theme song kicked in this time, but that was more of a Pavlovian response earned from his previous appearances. Otherwise, I was just bewildered by all the information being chucked at me. Still, if nothing else, it was certainly a cool-looking spectacle.

What’s best about this episode is what it sets up for the next season. Who knows how long they’ll stick with this, but it’s implied that Rick is out of portal juice, which makes him that much less god-like and which could maybe, finally, reintroduce some actual stakes into Rick and Morty instead of every episode being about a sarcastic unstoppable murderous sci-fi family. I truly do look forward to that.

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The other best thing is Mr. Poopybutthole’s profound advice that we should be brave enough to love the people who love us back. Thank you for your wisdom, Mr. Poopybutthole.

The post Rick and Morty Season 5 Finale Review appeared first on Den of Geek.

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TV writers, like all of us, are developing a love-hate relationship with Zoom

Enlarge / ATX TV’s panel on writers’ room Zooms: From L to R, top row: IndieWire’s Ben Travers (moderator), Sera Gamble (Netflix’s You), Dan Goor (Brooklyn Nine-Nine). Bottom row: Melinda Hsu Taylor (Nancy Drew) and Beth Schwartz (Sweettooth) 

Every week now seems to bring news of another Hollywood project being delayed. Sometimes this is because you can’t make money in an empty theater, but it’s just as often due to production halts in light of the COVID-19 pandemic. While most of that industry hits pause for now, one crucial segment has not—the writers. Like many of us, they’ve instead become intimately familiar with the inner workings of on-the-job Zoom calls.

“I kind of feel for every aspiring TV writer at home right now due to the pandemic,” said Sera Gamble, showrunner of Netflix’s You (formerly of Supernatural and The Magicians), during this year’s online-only edition of the ATX TV Festival. “They’re trying to write while doing a bunch of other stuff; well, congrats, you’re now in showrunner training. I’ve frequently had to sit down in the past and rewrite a script in a moment that felt like a severe crisis, and sometimes it was a severe crisis. But it feels like that times 10. I have to reset expectations every morning: I wake up, wait a minute before checking my phone, check in with loved ones, and then take the problems of the day as they come… [I tell my writers] ‘You can’t solve what you can’t solve, so what can we get done in the next hour?'”

For this late-addition panel to this year’s ATX TV Festival, Gamble (virtually) joined Dan Goor (Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Parks and Rec), Melinda Hsu Taylor (Nancy Drew, Lost), and Beth Schwartz (Sweet Tooth, Arrow) to take streamers “Inside the Writers (Zoom) Room.” For some, the change came abruptly. Hsu Taylor and her staff had nearly completed both writing and production on the latest season of Nancy Drew when suddenly they had to convert everything to be remote-friendly (she credits doing a Zoom birthday for her son around that time for helping her grasp the basic logistics and experience). Other writers started wholesale in a digital world, like the staff of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. They were five weeks into story-breaking at the time of this panel and hadn’t been together in-person at all while working on the upcoming season eight.

No one had a choice, of course. As COVID-19 continues to surge in the United States—the country passed the 2-million-case mark within the last two weeks—all walks of life must adjust. And when any in-person interactions come with potentially life-threatening risk for the foreseeable future, suddenly Zoom calls sound downright preferable.

“Right when we went home, there was a little bit of a relief,” Gamble said. “We were social distancing in two separate rooms for weeks before we went home just so people could have six to 10 feet between them. At one point, I asked a writer’s assistant to track how often ‘coronavirus’ was said—it was every two minutes. So at least if we went home, we’d be able to work.”

The work

Logistically, certain things have been trickier for TV writers in this shared Zoom existence. Larger writers’ rooms pushing 10 people or more may have difficulty translating into a single Zoom chat, where not talking over each other and reading the room become harder. So, You and Brooklyn Nine-Nine now opt to have multiple, smaller Zoom calls focused on more narrowly defined tasks, and only the showrunner will hop between conversations. That magic writers often like to refer to—the creative spark, the inner-staff interactions where a lunch convo might solve a plot problem later that afternoon—has also proven harder to recreate in these digital work spaces.

ATX TV Festival

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“It’s more efficient, but it is weird and less fun,” Goor said. “There’s less joking around. We did every possible Zoom joke we could do that first week—changed all the backgrounds, mine was my mom’s water colors. We did background videos of each other… so I guess we found new ways to waste time, now that I think about… But it’s nice to feel a reaction to a pitch, and it’s much harder to do that over Zoom. I find myself talking myself out of story ideas.”

Early on at least, Zoom has also surprised writers with a few positive benefits. In writers’ rooms where some staffers have been with a show much longer than others, Zoom may take away some unspoken hierarchical barriers and put everyone on equal footing. “There’s something democratizing about these squares that are always present and equally sized,” Goor said. “For new people, it might be easier to speak up now. ‘Oh, and April, what do you have to say about this?'” Zoom also inherently leads to less workday interruption: fewer bathroom breaks, less losing the room to endless joke-offs, and skipping longer lunch routines like the Brooklyn Nine-Nine staff’s elaborate Wheel of Fortune-style approach to selecting takeout.

But perhaps the biggest change? The pandemic has given everyone in the writers’ room a more holistic perspective on life—episode four of season whatever no longer gets to be anyone’s most important thing. Add it all up, and many writers now have a much more traditional work day.

“Comedy hours are usually bad, and they’ve become so much better,” Goor said, noting how he now typically works 10am to 12:30pm, takes lunch, and resumes from 1:30p to 5:30p. “Routinely for the first few seasons, we’d eat dinner [in the writers’ room] and be there till 8pm or 10pm or 11pm for a table read. We’ve adjusted. It’s partly because it’s impossible to look at Zoom for that long, but it’s partly so people can be with their families, be healthy, and experience life.”

Focusing at home versus when you’re physically in a space for a specific task can be a new challenge, but these TV writers continue to find approaches that work for individual groups. Hsu Taylor and the Nancy Drew staff start each session with a three-minute meditation to intentionally tell their minds that work time has begun. “I know some people are checking their email because I hear clicking,” she said. “But I think most like this. ‘OK, I’m doing this now.’ I’m telling my mind and body to be here for the next few hours.” And some former tasks that would force writers to split their attention now don’t exist, like having to be on set for script tweaks during an episode you may have written.

“With production being down,” Schwartz said, “you can really focus on the scripts instead of being all over the place.”

Welcome to the nerdiest, most-inside-baseball TV event this side of network upfronts. (Held in downtown Austin most years, like in 2017 when FX’s Fargo headlined)

Nathan Mattise

Years later, this ATX TV installation still represents the best use case we’ve seen for those ol’ B&W and tiny TVs.

Nathan Mattise

The end product

Whether good or bad, our new reality has absolutely already impacted what we’ll eventually see on screen. You, for instance, centers on a bookstore manager creepily obsessed with an aspiring young writer. To put it succinctly, the show frequently has characters at least kissing. But for the upcoming season three, that may be one aspect needing to change, no questions asked.

“We can’t put people in danger—TV shows aren’t worth that,” said Gamble. “So we’ll change what we can and keep an eye on the lines we don’t want to cross. We won’t do the show and have it be shitty because there was a pandemic. We’ll be measured and try to maintain the spirits of the show. But it’s a conversation, scene by scene by scene.”

The COVID-19 pandemic necessitates shifts in logistics, too. Where you can film and who can you film obviously feeds into what scenes a writing staff can write. The writers noted productions in Canada and New Zealand, like Nancy Drew and Sweet Tooth, will happen first since those countries have navigated COVID-19 better than the US. And with mandated quarantine for travelers to those places, local actors could have a leg up for roles, too.

For Goor and the Brooklyn Nine-Nine team, new logistical concerns start with babies. No explicit spoilers, but two characters had one last season, and the team suddenly has to look at animatronics and maybe less overall on-screen infant time (“There’s going to be a run on those bespoke fake babies,” Gamble joked).

“It’s hard, because we’re doing stories on the work-life balance for these people. This goes in so many different directions and we still don’t know where [the pandemic] is going, so it’s hard to write for it,” Goor said. “Is it safe to shoot outside? Originally, we wanted everything to be a bottle episode, so we can shoot on the stages, [and] it’ll be controlled. But now, is it better to do all exteriors? Because it seems like it’s healthier and safer for people. How many extras can you have? Can you use kids? And since there will be waves of productions, with movies and pilots starting, too, availability for guest cast will be a lot harder. Five-episode guest-star arcs are now harder.”

All these decisions ultimately bleed into the business of TV, too. For writers, maybe the option of participating in a writer’s room remotely suddenly becomes more commonplace, democratizing the career for people outside of NYC and LA (and those cities’ sky-high rents). And not having to commute regularly or be in one physical space would mean writers’ rooms could welcome writers with physical disabilities more easily, thus bringing wider perspectives to a host of shows.

“I think there’s a reason we do [in-person writers’ rooms], and it’s not just to spend studio money on all that rent—it’s good for creativity and production,” says Gamble. “But it will be easier to say, ‘We should just meet on Zoom on some days.’ And for the disabled community, if an agent were to call and pitch me somebody and explain why someone could rarely or never be on set, well, I know that works now. If this all leads to a crop of great writers breaking into the business, that excites me.”

ATX TV Festival 2020 continues to post its panels on YouTube throughout June (including a panel with the staff of The Mandalorian available this weekend). The entire discussion “Inside the Writers (Zoom) Room” is available below.

You can watch all of ATX TV’s “Inside the Writers (Zoom) Room” panel on-demand now.

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