#tb karen

[dreamypqulson]

— my only sunshine

summary: you’ve been struggling in silence but it hasn’t gone unnoticed.

pairing: cordelia goode x reader

warnings: depression, anxiety, self-harm (pretty detailed, be careful)

word count: 2700

venting again lol

Your leg shaking up and down was becoming excessive. You could see the girls next to you becoming annoyed, but you hardly realized that you were doing it. Tears pooled in your eyes and it burned so badly to hold them in. Why does Cordelia have to look at me so much? Why can't she just glance over me like everyone else and let me wallow away in the corner?

Everyone knew that you were Cordelia's special girl. You didn't think it had anything to do with your powers, she just liked you. And you liked her. But that was it; you were both too afraid to acknowledge it. What she wasn’t aware of was your history with mental health, which you tried so hard to conceal from her.

You don't think you were doing a very good job hiding it this time. How could you hide the fact that you don't want to live anymore?

Everyone knew you looked terrible lately. Madison had even pointed it out. Your eyes were dark, and hollow, and you just didn't look like yourself. Madison said you were just a freak that was too caught up in your studies to barely allow yourself some time to sleep, but Cordelia knew that wasn't true. Matter of fact, it was the complete opposite.

Cordelia dismissed yet another class that had completely gone through one ear and out the other. Spacing out is the one time that you actually feel safe and you so happen to be the best at it during class.

Everyone rushed out. You were a little slower because you were so exhausted and picking up your books felt like you were ripping open the cuts on your wrist. You thought you could feel like blood dripping down, but it might've just been your anxiety freaking you out.

"Oh, y/n, could you stay for a minute, love," Cordelia asked when you were by the doorway, ever so sweet but you still bit the inside of your mouth until you could taste blood.

You spun slowly on your heels. You loved Cordelia but you didn't want to stay. You were terrified of confrontation and you just wanted to throw yourself into your bed again.

You didn't respond and kept a great distance between you and Cordelia. She was so warm, she was your comfort, and you ached to have her hold you, but you just wanted the darkness right now.

She still walked closer towards you and you almost started to cry from the nerves. You started scratching at your band-aid covered wrists. You don't know why you do that when your nervous, it just feels good in the moment.

She looked down at your arms, then back up at you. Does she know? Did your sleeve rise when you went to reach for something? "Relax, honey. You're not in trouble. I just want to check on you."

"I'm fine," it came out weak.

She raised an eyebrow at you and gave you that look. Anyone could tell that you weren't okay, it was just a matter of who would be there for you when you fall apart.

Your bottom lip started to tremble. A clear indication that you were ready to break down. Cordelia just watched, letting you control yourself before she made you explode completely.

"How about we take a walk outside, around the house, and get some fresh air, yeah?" You nodded and you were suddenly following her out the door. Anything someone says to you hasn't really been processing in your head. You truly just feel like a leaf being blown in every direction.

It was nice out, slightly chilly with a breeze, but it did not seem to snap you from your state of mind. It was quiet for a minute before Cordelia began talking to you again. You knew she was trying to distract you from your thoughts, but it's not really want you want right now.

"So what have you been up to, missy? Are you still writing?" She looked over at you, gently smiling. She loved reading all of your work, but it had been a few weeks since she had. She's been a little bit busy and you've been locking yourself in your room.

"Yeah, a little bit, I guess." It was a complete lie, but your didn't feel like getting into the fact that you could hardly bring yourself to even get out of bed, let alone write.

She wanted to have a full conversation with you, but you weren't having it. She just became silent as you both finished the walk around the building. She always takes you to walk around the city with her, but she had an inkling that you weren't going to want to leave the property.

Cordelia didn't want to let you go yet. She had a bad feeling and she knew something just wasn't right with you. She felt uneasy. But she couldn't hold you back when you told her you had to go study. You would never pass up hanging out with Cordelia to study, and she knew that, but she just let you go.

When you got to your room, it was all messy. Had you had the energy to keep it as tidy as you always did then maybe your anger levels wouldn't have increased when you walked in. You decided to ignore it and step over the pile of clothes and make your way into the bathroom.

There, you dug through your drawer, looking for the blade that you kept hidden in the back. It was the one place that nobody could accidentally stumble upon it.

You sat down on the closed toilet lid and pulled up your left sleeve. Ripping off the bandaids had not even hurt as much as they should, you didn’t even flinch. You began cutting any free skin on your inner arms that you could. You hated that there wasn't that much room anymore due to all the other cuts, but you just couldn't seem to stop.

Sometimes it made you feel crazy but it mostly made you get some release. You knew you should at least try to stop with summer approaching but getting clean is never your top priority in the moment. Not when your arms start aching for more.

You just sit there with a blank face and watch as drops of blood start pooling at the thin lines and then you start dabbing it away with a tissue and apply some pressure.

Your heart absolutely drops when you hear a knock on your bathroom door. You weren’t expecting a visitor at your room, but living in this busy house, you never really get alone time.

"Y/n, it's me darling. Dinners ready." How could you have been so in your head that you lost track of time. You hardly even had an appetite but you knew that Cordelia was already having suspicions about you. You just had to act like everything was alright.

"Okay I'll be right down." Instead of wrapping your arm up, you simply just ran it under water for a moment and then pulled your sleeve down. It definitely stung, but you were starting to enjoy it.

When you walked out of the bathroom, Cordelia was waiting on your bed for you. You were expecting her to already be downstairs with the other girls, but she clearly had other plans.

"You're always neat, sweetie. What's going on with you?" You shrugged again, and soon, you thought, she's going to forget what your voice even sounds like. You began to walk out your room, and you can hear her shuffling behind you before she finally catches up. "Not in the mood to talk today?"

You'd rather Cordelia just hold you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear without expecting an answer. But at the moment, she's completely worried and just wants you to open up. "Not really, Cordelia."

She lets you slide again, but she can't take her eyes off of you all throughout dinner. She's sitting at the head of the table and you're at the first seat next to her. When you reach for your plate, she notices something that she wishes she didn't. She wishes it wasn't even there.

Your sleeve slides up, only slightly, and she can see smeared crimson on your wrist. Her heart sink and she has to swallow down the lump in her throat. After that, she cannot even look at you, or anyone for that matter, for the rest of dinner. She wasn't angry or embarrassed of you. Just so, so upset over the fact that her girl was hurting so badly.

Dinner finishes fairly fast. You notice there's not much chatter, and it must be from Cordelia's lack of interest in any of the conversation. You start worry that you hurt her feelings. She's always catching up with you and the girls - mostly you - during dinner, but today she hadn't even said a word.

"Y/n, meet me in my room please," Cordelia says, and it sounds almost cold compared to her typical soft voice. She walks away and heads towards her bedroom and your heart completely sinks. You fidget with the hem of your shirt and make way towards her room.

The door is ajar and by the time you're there, Cordelia is sitting on her bed in tears. This is it; she's going to kick you out.

"Cordelia?" You say and gather her attention back to you. She quickly wipes away her tears like you weren't supposed to see that, but there's no hiding her red, puffy eyes.

"Sit down please," she hardly looks you in the eyes. It's terrifying.

"I—" you attempt to argue. She has no part in that.

"Just sit down, y/n."

You sit beside her and it's so close that you bunch up your sleeve in your hand. You're consistently terrified of it rising. "Show me your arm."

"What—"

"Show me, y/n. I know what's going on. I know that you are hurting yourself."

You hug your arm closer to your body and can feel the sting like it's mocking you. Tears are instantly sprung to your eyes and it's clear that this situation isn't just a big misunderstanding.

"No! Leave me alone, Cordelia. What is wrong with you? Why would I ever do that." But you do do it and those words hurt so much. You wouldn't ever be so harsh to Cordelia, but you're not in the right mental state right now.

Cordelia's crying again and all you can think about is cutting up your arm for making her feel like that. You need to hurt yourself to pay for the faults you're causing and Cordelia can see right through that.

Her voice is very quiet and desperate as she speaks, "Baby, please. Please let me help you, I can't just pretend that it's not going on. I care about you too much."

This completely causes you to break down. You never had someone truly care about you. This is something that you've been yearning for forever.

You melt into Cordelia's body and she hugs you tightly, as if she let go, all of the pieces of you would just shatter everywhere. You can feel her tears start leaking through onto your shirt and you know she feels it too. "Please, y/n," she whispers, "I love you. Let me in, it's just me, it's only Cordelia."

You finally pull back and wipe away your tears. It doesn't stop another fresh batch of warm tears to roll down your face. You don't want to keep hiding this anymore. You need help. You need someone. You need her.

You take a deep breath and tug up your sleeve. You can't even bare to look at her face. Ashamed, and embarrassed, and scared. But you hear a sharp intake of breath from her. The bleeding from the cuts before dinner only made it look far worse on your fucked up skin.

"Oh, my baby," she sniffles and grabs your arm, gently. Your heart is too heavy. She's trying so hard to be strong for you. "Why," she looks up at you with watery eyes, waiting for an honest answer.

"Everything's just too much, Delia. I don't want to be me anymore. I hate being me, I hate living!" You started sobbing again and the crack in your voice doesn't go unnoticed. This is new and weird and you don't like it. You don't want to talk about yourself anymore. You can see her heart breaking in half from your words.

"My little sunshine...do you know I love you? I love the person that you say you hate so much." You don't have anything to say to that. Cordelia loves you. And you don't know how, but she does. You don't know how this whole could have any room for the broken half of you. “I couldn’t live without seeing your pretty smile and listening to you ramble to me about all the little things you love. So if you hate living so much, then let me love it for the both of us until you learn to.”

It’s silent for a couple moments that pass by until she looks back down at your arm again. It's a bloody mess and you don't want her to look anymore but she's still holding on. "Can I clean it? Can I do that for you?"

You nod and then you're being walked to her bathroom. It's bigger than yours and the entire room smells like her lavender shampoo that you always love taking in when she hugs you. She helps you to sit up on the counter. Your arm feels heavy from all the attention being on it but she so carefully cleans away the blood and it makes you feel a little bit better.

She covers it with bandaids. Not because she is disgusted by it. She's not at all. She just doesn't want anything infecting the fresh ones.

When she’s done, she lifts your arm up to her lips and, so delicately, kisses the covered cuts. A few tears start rolling down your face again. You’re too emotional for this. “Delia…”

“I love you,” she looks back up to you. Her words are so clear and genuine. “Come to me. I don’t care where we are or what time it is. Come to me whenever you feel like this.” You nod, your bottom lip trembling. She reaches her hand up and brushes her thumb over your lips. “It’s not going to be easy but i’m going to help you. We can make a plan and safe alternatives, anything that’ll help.”

She leans in and kisses your forehead, slow and light and your heart beats a little bit faster. “I love you too, Cordelia,” you croak out and she gives you that little smile.

“Come on, my little sunshine, let’s get some rest, hm?” She grabs your hand and brings you to her own bed. You’ve never slept with Cordelia before but it all feels natural. You lay your head on her chest and her arms wrap around your body. For once, you feel a sliver of happiness that you’ve been deprived of for so long.

The room is silent besides her soft breaths and the sound of cars rushing by. You finally break that silence after a few minutes.

“Delia?”

“Hm?” She peaks down a you and a small smile is present on her face again.

“Why do you always call me your little sunshine?” You say it with a slight giggle in your voice. You love all the nicknames she has for you, but this one stands out and makes your heart warm.

“Because, sweetie, I was in a very similar situation as you. But then you came into my life and suddenly there was light again.”

You looked up at her and bite your lip. You could’ve never imagined a woman like her feeling as terrible as you do. She’s too…perfect. But maybe, suddenly, you won’t feel so ashamed of your emotions anymore. You lean forward and place your sweet lips on hers. Just for a moment, for the first time in your life, you see a bit of sunlight shine through the cracks of your eyelids.

taglist: @loverofallthingssarah @goodeday2u @lanawinters-ily @strawberryshorttcakkee @sapphicforsarahh @ahsfan05 @stayevildarling @isle-of-earle @cordithatgurl @mistysswampmud @billiedeansbitch @billiedeanspearls @cigaretteology @favoriteredhead @lovingsarah @cordeliass @citizenoftheworld-stuff-blog @multi-royalty-main

message me or send an ask to be added to my taglist!

[qqqq-q-to]

Karen Kaede / 楪カレン

[hopeagainsthope97]

The Bastard Son & The Devil Himself - 1.06

[mournwatches]

[themidnightcircusshow]

Hurt and betrayed that people on twitter are trying to argue that Fuuma is kinkier than Seishirou

[japanesedoramaandanimelover91]

Thursday 22.00 new episode of #TheYakai.

Patience, patience , patience SP‼️😤

Popular child actor #KokoroTerada gains muscle and has a hanging showdown with former firefighter comedian #Watari119 💪🏻🔥.

Will #RiisaNaka be able to put up with Nagasaki dialect at her dialect press conference?

And the great actress #AtsukoTakahata tries her hand at the challenging narrative of her own истории🎙️. You might hear some behind-the-scenes stories about her career, from her early years to her breakthrough.

#RioSuzuki japanese actress who has been working as an actress for 60 Seconds since enduring a parody of Kintaro. Will she be able to endure Kintaro's facial expressions and cry for 60 seconds? 🥺

Also, #MinamiTakahashi made everyone's eyes go wide with her hit song🫶.　

#KarenTakizawa takes part in the #BUMPOFCHICKEN #tentaikansoku song challenge 😏✨.

#Ariyoshi and #Sakurai are very excited about the too serious challenge.Looking forward to the challenge from our gorgeous guests 😊.𝑰���'𝒔 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝑻𝒊𝒎𝒆

The programme airs on Thursdays at 22.00 p.m. Japan time and 14.00 p.m. Europe time. Don't miss it!

[watchyourdigits]

i'm replaying rdr2 already except this time i'm speedrunning straight into low honor (had maximum honor my first playthrough) and decided fuck it and gave arthur tuberculosis as soon as i could so i don't have to think about it

[immajustvibehere]

Amidst a Crashing World (4/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Summary: You follow Arthur back to camp, who isn't so happy about the decision. Yet, you are convinced that you have to be there for the last train heist of the van der Linde gang.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no tb-Arthur, literally love redemption, no smut (probably), "slow burn"

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

8000 words

You tried to take your time while following Arthur's tracks. A ride through Murfree country never had been one of your favourite past time activities. Since you had to ride through the territory to reach Annesburg, you were familiar with all its paths and knew where Murfrees could hide; but the familiarity didn’t change the fact that you just preferred to not be in danger. If you had a job to do in Annesburg and had plenty of time to spare, you would ride around the territory, but if you had to be quick, you always had your rifle and gun ready. Today, you’d rather be quick and follow the tracks directly. Arthur had a decent head-start and there was no way you would arrive at camp simultaneously.

Soon, you heard noise in the distance that you immediately associated with camp life; the clattering of plates, mumbling, occasional shouts. The noise was still muffled because of the forest. It was eerie, really. Despite the sun being high in the sky, it seemed to be misty and dark. If you had still been with the gang when the decision was made to camp here, you surely would have protested.

Already, you were awfully close to camp, but there was nobody standing guard. Maybe things had significantly changed since you last were part of the gang, but you wondered...because back then, when their bounties were still low, there still was someone keeping watch pretty much all the time. You rode along the earthy path and tents appeared. You scanned the campgrounds to look for someone familiar.

It didn't take long before eyes were on you. Javier was the first one to approach, greeting you in a friendly manner while you dismounted. Soon, a small circle had formed around you. Miss Grimshaw with mixed feelings about your long absence and sudden return; Tilly and Mary-Beth who wanted to know what you'd been up to; Karen who offered you a beer. Through the crowd of people, you saw Dutch and a sleazy blonde guy emerge from the darkness of the cave while Arthur put his head out of his tent to see what the commotion was about.

You couldn't dwell long on Arthur's expression, his mouth slightly open, fists clenching, while you walked past his tent to approach Dutch, who strolled towards you with open arms.

"Miss y/l/n!" Dutch greeted you, his big hand taking yours and shaking it as if you were business partners meeting to discuss a scheme. His hand was warm and slightly moist, which disgusted you, but you forces yourself to put on a grin. You hoped he couldn’t hear your heart beat up to your throat, you were this anxious not to reveal that you had Arthur had reconnected.  

"Dutch," you nodded. You weren’t sure if more formalities would have been appropriate, but you had never called him “Mr van der Linde” and you saw no reason to start doing so now.

"Good to have you back! I had sent for you a while ago...", Dutch locked eyes with Arthur for a moment, who still stood by his tent, flabbergasted, "Rumour was you were dead."

"Well", you smiled charmingly, "I didn't want to be found just yet. I had some loose strings to tie up, wouldn't have wanted to get the gang entangled with my private business."

Dutch looked at you with a touch of doubt. So did the man with the blonde hair, you didn’t appreciate how he checked you out. Not just to find out if you weren’t a trap and had the law behind you, but purely sexual, trying to determine what you hid under your clothes. His gaze was unsettling.

"Anyways", you continued, "I read the paper recently and figured you'd appreciate an extra gun."

"How did you find us?", the blonde guy interrupted.

"Some of you guys can be tracked down quite easily", you smiled sympathetically, "I had some work in Annesburg and...well, your grocery runs..."

You'd rather blame Pearson for leading you to camp than Arthur. As far as you were concerned, you hadn't seen Arthur since he had broken your heart a year ago.

Dutch chuckled and it sounded strangely cold and tense, "Good to know we've got you back. We wouldn't want you as our enemy."

"Never", you smiled honestly, "Just tell me what needs to be done, I'll do it. I owe you for letting me roam for a year."

Dutch put a hand on your shoulder, then invited you to get comfortable. The remaining day was spent with talking to people, putting down your bedroll and sneaking some spices into Pearson’s stew. It was a matter of getting accustomed to camp life again, and frankly, you enjoyed having other people around. The only thing you avoided doing was getting close to Arthur and he didn’t seem keen on approaching you either.

By far the best aspect of being back at camp was catching up with everybody. You hadn’t realised how much you had missed all those familiar faces. Whenever you did a chore, you actually felt helpful, because there were people that needed and depended on you doing your part. Playing with Jack for an hour was rewarded with Abigail being thankful and looking way more relaxed. Putting some more spices in Pearson's stew was appreciated with winks and relieved smiles. But you never forgot the purpose of your return. Three days had passed, and still, not a single word had passed between you and Arthur. Your worry grew that the man might be seriously angry at you. 

While you thought about this on your third night, tending to the camp fire while everyone else was slowly retreating to their bedrolls, you saw Micah approach. It was his low chuckle that made you look up.

Now, three days had been plenty of time for the girls to warn you about him and his two suspicious companions. Apparently, he managed to sneak them into the gang without getting Dutch’s actual approval first – and you knew that wasn’t exactly a simple thing to do. Your muscles tensed as Micah closed the distance between you.

"Miss y/l/n", he made a half-assed bow before sitting down on a chair close to you, "I think we never had the pleasure of a proper introduction."

"You know who I am, I know who you are, Mr. Bell", you said coldly, focusing on the flames, "I don't think we need more introducing."

"It's just…", the man uttered and made some weird noises with his mouth, as if he was licking his lips, but you weren't looking at him, "I don't know if I can trust you. You just appeared, all of a sudden."

Raising an eyebrow, you responded: "You mean like your pawns? Joe and what-was-his-name? Pete?"

You observed Micah shift uncomfortably in his chair before replying: "Cleet and Joe know how to fight."

"So do I", you shot back sharply. Finally, you looked the man in the face. The warm, flickering orange of the fire cast him in a light that made his features look more intense than they were at daylight. The shadows danced menacingly across his face. You hadn’t quite made up your mind about Micah Bell, but you knew Arthur didn't like him, neither did Abigail or Mary-Beth...or anyone, really.

Micah made the mistake of placing his hands on the table and leaning in, his voice dropping to a whisper: "Women like you-"

But you swiftly interrupted him, drawing your hunting knife and driving it into the table next to Micah's hand. For a fleeting moment, his eyes gleamed dangerously and you feared he'd take the knife and gut you. Instead, he leaned back casually with a chuckle: "Yer a feisty one, aren't you?"

You swallowed, unsure if you were brave enough to continue this conversation. Making an enemy wasn't exactly your plan, especially if Micah could, in any way, become an inconvenience for your little escape plan. But you sighed, stood up and said with the steadies voice you managed: "I recommend you don't find out." You left the knife in the table, just to spare you the embarrassment of failing to pull it out of the wood smoothly.  

You turned your back and strode away, your stomach churning with the adrenaline of the confrontation. Normally, you wouldn't be so bold…but "normally" you didn't have to deal with guys like Micah. Sure, the gang had seen their share of members that were disrespectful, especially towards women – but never like this. Micah’s aura alone made you shiver.

Making your way to your horse, you soothed your nerves by tending to the animal, offering it a few carrots and stroking its mane. Patiently, you waited until Micah retreated from the fire and went into the cave. As the camp settled into quiet stillness, only disturbed by the rustle of leaves and the sound of your horses’ hooves, you retrieved your knife and headed back.

As you passed Arthur’s tent, you caught a whisper of your name. You paused, curiously.

The flaps were partially closed, but when you peeked inside, you saw him standing next to his table, the warm light of a lantern warmly filling the tent. It almost looked cozy, certainly better than your bedroll on the dirty and hard ground. Arthur’s gaze was intense as he looked at you. You asked "Yeah?", hoping he’d clarify if he wanted to talk or something, but Arthur didn’t reply.  Hesitantly, you stepped inside his tent, your hand still holding the canvas open, just in case you read the situation completely wrong.

It was only when you came closer that you saw his features were irritated. He approached you with a big step, grabbed you by the arm and pulled you further into the tent, so nobody outside would see that you’d just entered

"What the hell were you thinking?", Arthur spit at you, eyebrows furrowed and the grip around your arm tightening.

"What I was thinking?", you tried to speak calmly.

You knew exactly what he was referring to. Arthur had picked up the conversation as if you had just walked into camp five minutes ago and not like three days had passed already. You continued: "That I won't sit tight for a week and wait to see if you've made it out."

"Y/n...", Arthur sighed disappointedly.

"Arthur please", you wailed, trying to loosen his grip around your arm. He let go, not before his thumb lightly caressed the area his fingers had been digging in, as if to apologize.

You looked the man straight in the eye. He was still somewhat angry, but so were you. Though you found your anger insignificant under the scorn of this big man and you hated being on the receiving end of it.

Arthur finally averted his gaze: "I can't save you too."

"You won't have to", you replied sternly.

Arthur sat down on his chair, sighing as if he had just been told his mother had died. He didn't look at you, standing there like a scolded child.

"Did you read the note?", Arthur asked after a while, referring to his good-bye letter that you had crumpled and disappear under your bed, before your eyes could read any sorry, love-sickening words or promises that wouldn’t be kept.

"No!", you replied quickly, "I saw you left one, I didn't bother."

"Look, Arthur", you tried desperately to get the man on your side again, "I don't know how the train heist'll go. Maybe you die, maybe I die. Maybe we'll fail to safe whoever needs saving. But then I got at least...four days left to spend with you."

Arthur looked at you sadly.

"Because I won't go back to my fucking cabin and mourn you like I've mourned you the last months. I'll keep you alive. Or I die trying, I don't really give a fuck", tears pricked your eyes. Gosh, this place was depressing. You wished you could speak more calmly, more put together...but you understood why everybody behaved like a nut-case around here. Somehow, the forest sucked out all the joy you have.

"Okay", Arthur sighed, and he looked like he could understand or was at least ready to end the discussion. He opened his posture a little, nodding towards him as if to invite you. You approached slowly, not quite sure of what he expected you to do.

"Come 'ere", he mumbled. You sat down on his lap, snaking his arms around his body while he did the same. The two of you had been close when you made out. There had been barely any distance between you, when you had cut his hair. However, this was different. You nuzzled your face into his neck in the silence of the night, with no other intention but to be close to him. Finally, you had time to bask in his scent.

It was a calming scent, familiar somehow. Homely, in the best of ways. It calmed you down. All the while, Arthur enjoyed your closeness just as much; pressing you tighter to him, enjoying the proximity he had denied you when you had asked if he wanted to sleep next to each other’s. He didn't know how much he had needed that. A warm, loving body in his embrace. He felt your fingers restlessly scratching his jacket, as if they tried to complain about the extra layer. He felt your breath down his neck and your body squirming on his lap.

The two of you sat like that for a while. Arthur started to caress your hair, letting his fingers run through your strands while he waited for you to calm your breathing.

Arthur realized that he was making a mistake. He loved the way your body pressed down on him, loved how your body moved and reacted to his subtle touches. He absolutely feared and hated that he would crave the feeling forever. He had denied sleeping next to you only a few days prior because he knew both of you would suffer if either one dies. It’s similar to being parched, only to be allowed a small sip of water. Enough to satisfy you for the moment, but making you realize how much you really craved water. This embrace was the same.

"Can't stay here, can I?", as if you had read his thoughts, you smiled sadly and peeled yourself off Arthur. He moved his arms reluctantly from your body and glanced to his cot.

He'd prefer it too...to have you lie on top of him, sleeping peacefully.

You spoke again before he could answer: "I always fear that this camp'll be overrun by Murfrees at night."

"Charles 'n I killed probably most of ‘em. There wouldn't be enough to bother us", Arthur tried to reassure you. His voice was a little dreamy, as if the image of you two sharing a cot was still very vivid on his mind.  

"Yeah...", you replied and stood up. Arthur's hands slid into yours, so that you now were holding hands as you stood next to him. The affectionate gestured surprised you a little, it send a pleasurable tingle into your stomach.

"Good night, then", you sighed and brushed your thumb over Arthur's back of his hand.

"G'd night, darlin'", Arthur mumbled. He might have been disappointed that you came to camp but softening him was as easy as putting old bread in a bowl of soup. And there he was, all soft and soggy after five minutes intimacy. Admittedly, you felt softened and calmed down too. You wouldn’t have been able to sleep after your little run-in with Micah, if it hadn’t been for the fact that you and Arthur had now made up. Your goal and purpose was in clear sight again; somehow protect this man and be there for him, in case Dutch or anyone else betrays him again.  

Satisfied, you walked to your bedroll and crept onto in, falling asleep quiet easily.

-

Nothing much would be happening until the train job in a few days – at least, that was what you believed. Of course, you were wrong.

The next day, you had volunteered to go on a grocery run with Uncle and Pearson. You had never been particularly close with them, but it wasn’t a detective’s job to see them whisper about something behind your back. While you waited in front of the grocery store and watched the young boys that helped out load your carriage, the two men walked off to the train station. They gave you some mumbled excuse, you had barely understood what they had said, but now you watched them in the distance as they ran their fingers over the train’s schedule. On their way back to you, you could pinpoint the precise moment they realised your eyes were on them, because they straightened their backs and put on innocent smiles. You gave them a sympathetic smile in return.

On the ride back, there was an uncomfortable silence between the three of you, before Pearson finally asked: "Why did you come back, y/n? You said you saw the papers...you should know that this won't last much longer..."

"Well…”, a quick grin hushed over your face before you forced yourself to sound more serious, “I said I would be back. And I'm loyal to Dutch." As soon as the word “loyal” had left your lips, you saw the men stiffening, Uncle shooting dangerous gazes to Pearson.

You let them hang in suspense and fear a few moments longer, before you smiled and snorted: "Oh, relax. I'm just fucking with you."

The flabbergasted faces of the men made you laugh.

"I came back to help Arthur to get everyone out before it's too late", you said truthfully and before you could add something, Uncle laughed triumphantly: "I knew it! Mary-Beth will be so happy to hear that you two are together!"

Your cheeks grew warm so quickly, you had barely registered Pearson’s words. Then you fumbled with the reins and tried to put some force behind your words: "I never said anything about being together with Arthur."

"But you were in his tent yesterday, weren't you?", Uncle asked in a manner that suggested he already knew the answer, and so did the girls and whoever he gossips with, apparently. So, you didn't say anything and chewed your inner cheek.

This was the perfect moment to change the topic and make the men aware that you figured they want to leave camp. You would help them - this was why you were there, after all.

Finally, you managed to swallow and said: "Anyways...I have guard duty from 2 am until the morning. You can slip away during that time...if you're in Annesburg before the sun's out, you should be in the clear", you said, eyes on the road.

"You're a good one, y/n", Pearson said happily, "Though I don't quite agree with the way you overseason my stew-"

"I can't overseason what's not seasoned in the first place!", you interrupted loudly, but it was in a friendly manner.

They briefly talked about what they'd take with them, that Mary-Beth would join them and you listened, already coming up with excuses on how it could happen that three people disappeared while you had guard duty. It felt like you had it all figured out. It was a relief to know that three people would be taken care of by tomorrow. The harder was the punch in the face when you arrived back at camp and found most of the men missing.  

The Indians had come and asked for help at the oil factory, and Dutch had jumped at the opportunity. You had a terrible feeling, but you knew that riding after them wouldn't make much sense, so you bided your time until most of them returned...without Arthur and Charles, that is.

The question burned on your tongue. Where was Arthur? Was he okay? But as far as you were concerned, officially, nobody knew that the two of you were on speaking-terms. You couldn’t exactly walk up to Javier and ask him where your lover was. Maybe, you could have asked John, but you would have felt like an idiot for being so worried after only a couple of hours.

Arthur returned at sunset, grumpy face and slouching shoulders. When you approached him, he shot you a warning gaze. Not a dangerous gaze that made you think he was mad at you, but a silent warning, a peep at Dutch, and then he disappeared, walking off to eat an apple at the outskirts of camp. Charles hadn't returned, so you thought something might have happened to him, but Sadie finally filled you in on the details. The chief's son had been shot, was probably dead now, but nobody in the gang had been hurt, as far as she knows.

You waited a few more minutes, before you stalked after Arthur, finding him sitting in the dirt and watching the river in the distance.

Arthur briefly twisted his head in your direction as if to make sure that it really was you. He gave you no sign of recognition or invitation to join him, you simply heard a sigh, then saw some more smoke puffing from the cigarette between his lips.

"Dutch…he…He saw that a man was about to gut me, and jus’ walked away”, Arthur stumped his cigarette on a tree like an angry child would kick a stone, “Eagle Flies’s dead, 'cause of me…"

You weren’t quite sure if you understood what had happened at the oil factory, but you sensed that Arthur was extremely upset about it. Somehow, you couldn’t just say something bad about Dutch, because it didn’t matter if he had left Arthur – you hadn’t been there to begin with. Yet, staying at Arthur’s side was the sole reason you now sat down in the moist earth of this unsettling forest. Even now, you though you heard somebody scream in the distance and the darkness swapped places with the setting sun quickly spread throughout the woods and distorted shadows in the distance.

There was only little space left between you and Arthur, as you sat next to each other, watching water flow down the river. If anyone from camp saw you like that, they could probably put one and one together; but right now, you couldn't care less.

Had you ever seen Arthur so hurt and unsure of everything? You remembered, unfortunately quiet vividly, how under the weather the man was when Mary had to reject him or when he heard that she had married another. Back then, the whole camp felt Arthur’s sour mood and had done its best to offer distraction and ease the burden he normally carried a little bit. Today, you were the only one who seemingly had noticed that he wasn’t feeling well. Given the hostile mood at camp, this was probably for the best.

"He was a good guy, then? Eagle Flies...?", you asked quietly, sensing that Arthur would like to say a few more words about it.

"Yes. Hot headed and easily twisted by Dutch's speeches, unfortunately. Dutch did more damage to the tribe than..., well, I don't know. He was the chief's only son. And Rain Falls is...maybe wiser than a fool like me can ever hope of becoming", Arthur was brabbling, mumbling his words, making them tricky to follow. You tried your best, nonetheless.

"Thought I'd stay with 'em. Help 'em bag and leave...", Arthur admitted, his fingers brushed over the soil, picking out dried blades of grass, "Charles sent me back 'nd said there's people here needing me."

This caught you off guard. Leaving with the tribe would mean leave you behind with this mad bunch of degenerates, with Micah and his companions that looked at you like they just waited for an opportunity to catch you alone. Could you blame him, though? His father figure and mentor was ready to let Arthur be killed off.

It was at this point that you truly realised: The gang would be no longer.

Also, Arthur had no obligation nor responsibility for you. It had been your choice to leave your comfortable home to try and protect him here. Maybe it had been a bad idea to begin with. You should have stayed at your cabin and prayed or asked witches to bring Arthur back to you. The two of you weren't a couple. Arthur might have admitted to feel something for you, but that didn’t have to mean anything…not in the world he lived in.

You were so lost in your thoughts, you didn't realize Arthur was leaning in before he pressed a gentle kiss onto your temple.

"I love ya", he mumbled.

Your heart skipped a beat. Or several, actually, and your mind was blank.

Two minutes of quietly trying to convince yourself that the outlaw next to you, can’t possibly commit to anything, that the last time you spent together at you cabin and made out could have been a dream, and now he straight up told you that he…

It was your surprised and blank face that prompted Arthur to say: " 's okay. Ya don't 've to say it back. Or feel the same. 's just...almost dying...", Arthur swallowed. There was something like fear in his eyes, like he was rethinking his entire life, regretting the paths he had walked, the people he had killed. And not having told you sooner.

"You won't die. Not if I can help it", you assured, those were the only words you managed to say.

Arthur chuckled sadly: "Bullets travel fast."

You looked at each other as if you had walked into a dead end. Arthur had just told you that he loved you and you couldn’t say it back…or were afraid to say it back? You had already said something similar, a few days back, why did this feel so much more important?

Then you shared a hesitant smile.

"Oh, yeah”, you started again, “Pearson, Uncle and Mary-Beth are thinking of leaving tomorrow at dawn. I'm on guard duty, so they'll have safe passage."

"Okay", Arthur nodded, "come 'n see me at night before ya take yer post. I got s’mthing for yer..."

You nodded confusedly, but with peaked interest.

Nobody had to wake you at 2 am, because you had barely managed to fall asleep. It would be another half an hour before you swapped with Javier, so you took your time to warm up some coffee. Cup in hand, you sneaked into Arthur’s tent.

The man was completely knocked out and snoring on his tiny cot. As much as you loved the idea of sleeping in his tent with him, both of you would never fit on it. Arthur slept peacefully, sprawled out and without fear that someone hostile would sneak up on his. And yet, here you were. Disturbing him felt like a crime, but he had practically told you to wake him.

"Arthur", you whispered and put your cup down on the table, lighting the lantern so he'd see you when he woke and not get startled. When he didn’t react, you repeated his name slightly louder.

Nothing. You thought hard; was it really that important to wake him up? Couldn't it wait until the morning? If anyone, Arthur really deserved his sleep. The curiosity though...

"It's me," you said, now lightly touching his shoulder. This did the trick, Arthur opened his eyes and shot up. It reminded you of trying to pet a cat when it was asleep – it would always wake up as if you had stepped on its tail.

"Oh", Arthur's shoulders relaxed when he realised it was you. He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, adapting to the dim light in the tent and groaned, "Gimme a second."

"D-don't worry", you stuttered, now definitely feeling bad for waking him.

You watched as he stretched his legs and ran his hands over his face, trying to shake the sleepiness. After a few more moments, he stood up and walked over to his wardrobe chest. With an aching and tired groan, he pulled out a holster and a gun belt which was already dressed with bullets.

"I wore this when I was 'bit smaller", Arthur commented, his voice deep and gravelly. He walked up to you, placing the holster on the belt and then gently putting it around your waist. Though sleep-drunk, Arthur tried his best to not touch you anywhere inappropriate. You smiled affectionately as Arthur closed the belt buckle and mumbled: "I won't let you go in a fight with your gun crammed into yer pants."

That being said, he pulled your gun out of your waistband. You didn't stop him, as he briefly inspected the weapon, finding it in acceptable condition and dropping it into your new holster.

"Might need to adjust it, t’have it sit right. Guess you got the rest of the night to figure out which height you wanna wear it", as Arthur's raspy sleep voice faded, you noticed a sad undertone.

"Thank you, truly", you said, rattling the belt lightly to make it sit better.

"Sure", Arthur tried to crack a smile.

You held eye contact for a few seconds. Something needed to happen. Either one of you had to admit that they were deeply worried the other one would die later tonight or a hug, a kiss...anything. You knew that Arthur felt the same, that he was itching to break the silence, but neither of you found the courage.

"I'll...go on guard duty now. Wouldn't want to see Uncle and the rest try'n slip away with Javier still keeping guard."

"Sure", Arthur repeated and sat down on the cot, more than ready to go back to sleep, "Call on me if there's trouble."

You nodded, took your cup and walked out the tent.

The swap went smoothly, as were the first one and a half hours and then you heard something in camp stir behind you. About quarter of an hour later, Uncle, Pearson, Mary-Beth and Karen stood before you. Well, Karen was lying on a waggon, snoring. Uncle had mounted the horse that was pulling the little waggon and the other two were on foot, smiling at you hesitantly.

"You've got some money on you?", you asked, almost in a whisper.

"God damn it, we should have known that she wanted something for leaving us go!", Uncle cursed, and you couldn't quite tell if it was being sarcastic or not.

"No, you idiot", you complained, as friendly as you managed, "Money for your train. For a life afterwards, I don't know...to get a some fucking distance between you and this rat hole."

"Oh", you heard Uncle mumbled and it irritated you that he really believed you would want them to pay.

Pearson answered: "We got a few bucks. Should last for at least one or two stations."

You shook the head and pulled out a ten-dollar bill – your savings and the only money you had taken from home. "Take some more then, and hurry. I'll sweep the tracks behind you. Stay on the main road", you quickly rambled because you realized the sooner they leave, the better.

It was dark, the light of the moon barely reached the ground and the dim lantern they had was soon swallowed up by the trees. You grabbed an old broom and swept away their tracks for about 50 yards before you went back to your post.

Before most people started rising, you put on some coffee and used the last bit of porridge that had been in a big sack at the supplies pile to make some proper breakfast. For one thing, nobody would start wondering about Pearson's absence as quickly and for another, you might as well use the last pit of porridge, ideally, you won't be here tomorrow to suffer from its absence. You'd either be long gone or lying dead in a ditch as food for ravens - either way, the porridge won't be of any use for you. Neither would it be for Jack, John, Abigail, Arthur...and the other half decent people that were still here. Ideally.

Nobody seemed to notice that people were missing, expect for Miss Grimshaw - but she kept quiet for some reason. Arthur gave you a knowing smile when he passed you to get some coffee, as you retired again to catch up on some sleep.

Your nerves woke you some time before noon. The men were loading their weapons and brushing their horses. The suspense in the air quickly got rid of your remaining tiredness. This was your first big job, after all. Every moment your brain woke up from its slumber, you realised that you had never done anything similar before. You had robbed the odd fella and held up a couple of waggons…but robbing a train with army pay roll? You wondered if you hadn’t overestimated yourself.

As you stood up and got dressed, you noticed Arthur standing close to the cave and having a discussion with Dutch. The cold glares they exchanged sent shivers down your spine.

As you passed Arthur’s tent, a letter caught your attention. It was, besides the lantern, the only thing that occupied his table and you were sure that it hadn’t been there at night. You wouldn’t have though much of it, hadn’t you caught the name “Mary” on the cover. A quick glance at Arthur reassured you that he was all packed up, now somewhat agitatedly walking to his horse with the rest of the men. You made a couple of big steps, grabbed the letter and you eyes passed quickly over the lines “From Mary, To Arthur” before it startled you that there was something besides paper in this cover.

This was when Dutch’s shout: “Let’s ride!” echoed through camp. You slipped the letter into your satchel and joined the others.

You would never have admitted it, but you were anxious. Again, in your mind, you went through the clientele that you had robbed before. Drunk fools, rich looking travellers that weren’t significantly armed…any situation where you clearly had the upper hand. when you ran with the gang. Alone, you had stopped one or the other rich looking traveller. This, however, would be a battle for survival. Ideally, you had the money and would slip away before anything happened, but everyone knew that bullets would be flying sooner or later.

While riding, you stuck close to Sadie. You craved talking to Arthur, hell, as much as a comfort-providing look would have been great...but there wasn't any. Your anxiety only rose when he rode off with John to get some dynamite and you were stuck with the rest...You knew Sadie was fine, the others were not entirely trustworthy. Micah used the absence of Arthur and John, maybe the only men who would have been ready to defend you, to fall back in the group and make some “small talk”.

"You sure you're ready for this? Fine lady like you shouldn’t play outlaw with the men", Micah chuckled sarcastically. You were glad when Sadie interrupted him and threatened to cut his balls off, if he didn't shut up. You couldn't have come up with a witty reply for the life of it, you worried way too much about how the next two hours would turn out. The feeling of having to throw up was somewhat overwhelming, had you opened your mouth, you doubted something good would have left it.

Only when Arthur and John rejoined the group, you calmed slightly.

Things took their run. You had to ride hard to catch that train, your mind going crazy about the commands Dutch yelled every opportunity he got. You didn't understand why he wanted you to board the train - Sadie and Cleet were to board the train half-way, John, Arthur and you should jump on at the end. There wasn't any time to talk back or complain, even though Arthur didn’t seem to agree with that either.  

You steered your horse closer and closer to the waggon as Arthur rode up beside you: "Jump!" he yelled, because he had noticed you hesitated for a few seconds too long. You sent him an unsure gaze, which he took as a sign to board the train first. He made it look easy, jumping on a train that was going at the speed of...well, a train. Your horses had trouble keeping up.

But as Arthur extended a hand to show you that he'd catch you, you inhaled, untangled your feet from the stirrups and took a leap of faith. Unceremoniously, you crashed into Arthur, who did his best so you wouldn't fall over. You had barely collected your bearings, when John yelled at the two of you: "Come on, push!"

The thought that this has been a terrible idea crossed your mind multiple times as you struggled to keep up with the two men. It was them who shot most of the enemies, you were happy with sometimes hiding behind a corner and aimlessly firing at the guards, so they'd have to hide and give John and Arthur the time to reload. Hunting unsuspecting deer and rabbits did not compare to shooting at humans, you concluded, as you missed three shots. But your attempt was enough to make the guard hesitate before aiming his weapon at John, which was the split second that Arthur needed to gun him down.

This game continued for a couple of wagons. You jumped over crates and climbed on the roof of wagons that you were surprised of how much your body was capable. Your only goal was to not get left behind by the two men. Arthur sometimes turned around to make sure you were still following properly, but both of you were so out of breath, that it wouldn’t have worked to exchange a few words.

You didn't know how or why, but all of a sudden, the wagon in front of you had caught fire. John was quickest to react to Bill's yell to jump on his horse. Arthur looked anxiously between you and Dutch, who now called for him to jump on his. Riding behind Dutch was your last available option for a lift: Micah. Arthur was about to open his mouth, but Dutch pressured him to jump already. You whirled around and almost jumped happily, when you saw your horse straining to keep close to the train at the other side.

You whistled and it understood. Not even thinking about not making the jump really helped. You simply jumped, almost slipped from the guardrails but somehow grabbed onto your horse. Your fingers tightened around its mane, the reins fluttering around too vividly to catch it. Clutched your legs around the horse as tightly as you could, your spurred it on to skip the burning waggon. You stopped fearing for either your or Arthur's life at this moment. Hell, your only loyal companion the last couple of years had been your horse and you swore if a bullet as much as grazed it, you would find the gun that had done it and kill the owner barehanded, if needed.

Arthur was already on the next waggon and as he shouted at John to uncouple the burning one before it blows up the train, he positioned himself again, ready to catch you if needed. It was a smoother boarding than your first try, Arthur only gripped your elbow so you wouldn't topple over.

Arthur's eyes were already fixed on the gatling gun, then he pointed at  acouple of crates: "Hide there!"

Arthur shoved you behind the crates and you saw a panic in his eyes as everyone noticed a man on a cliff in the distance that alarmed everyone of the crime in act.  

Suddenly, everything happened awfully quick. Arthur had just finished putting the gun together and John had manged to unhinge the burning wagon. Three seconds later, it gave a loud boom and the waggon toppled over. For a few moments, you heard nothing. Your ears tried to adjust from the explosion to the constant noise of the train rattling through its tracks, when one gunshot pierced the air. John fell off the train like a sack of potatoes.

You hadn’t even seen where the shot had come from, but the man was dead before he could fire another - Arthur had been quick to draw his gun.

"I'll get John! You protect that money!", Dutch yelled, he and the rest of the riders turned their horses around. Looking at Arthur’s sceptical face, you knew that he didn’t believe Dutch would actually look out for John.

"I'll go stop the train!", Bill yelled.

Arthur spun around, carrying a case with ammunition for the gatling: "Whatever you do, do not stop the train! You secure up ahead but keep us movin'! I'll deal with the patrol when they come through!"

While the others ran off, Arthur rpinted towards you: "Go collect John. I don't trust Dutch to not jus' leave him."

"He's probably dead! I won't leave you too-", you quickly answered, out of breath.

"No!", Arthur interrupted, "You go collect him and I'll meet ya at yer cabin with Abigail 'n Jack!"

"I can't just-"

"Yes! You can god damn it!", Arthur was irritated. You were running out of time. The first bullet of the patrol hit the waggon, "Listen t' me. Yer gonna be fine and I'm gonna be fine. Here-"

Arthur took of his hat and pressed it onto your head.

And that didn't feel right. It was like he gave up his most prized possession. It didn't even fit but wobbled uncomfortably on your smaller head.

"No", you croaked. Your throat became dry from all the yelling, otherwise you wouldn’t understand each other because of the noise. Not again. Not again this “good-bye” scenario. He couldn't leave a letter, so he left you with his hat?

"It’s a promise", Arthur explained, "I'll get my hat back, understand? You jus’ take care of it for now."

You shook your head violently, the hat wobbled: “Take care of your hat, take care of your journal! I don’t want to-“

"If there's as much as a scratch on it", Arthur tried to joke, but it didn't sound like a joke. His voice was serious and stern. Then he grabbed you by the collar and lifted you up from your cowering position behind the crates. He lifted you like one would lift one’s opponent in a fight, just to have them on eye-level before delivering the punch to their face.

"I'll meet ya at yer cabin", Arthur promised again, and his face was so close, you thought he might kiss you, but then another bullet from the patrol splintered the wood of the crates you had sat behind a moment before.

Arthur said something that confused you: "Watch yer head" and before you could make sense of the words, Arthur pushed you against the shoulders and you went flying off the train. The second before you hit the ground, rolling along and crashing into a tree you remembered to keep your head up and it might have prevented you from dying, because the impact was brutal.

When you crashed into the tree you thought you were dead. You couldn't breathe. Everything went black for a few seconds before your body spasmed up in panic, trying to get air into your lungs. It didn't happen.

You were going to suffocate. You struggled for air until you were too exhausted to try. You were lying in the dirt, your whole body hurting, with no air in your lungs.

In the last possible second, when your vision already became blurry, the smallest bit of air filled your lungs and prolonged your suffering a little longer, until the next tiny gasp for air.

You didn’t know how long you'd been lying there before you managed to breath somewhat normally, ignoring the excruciating pain that each breath brought you.

In between blinking you saw Arthur's hat lying some feet away and wondered if that had been the real joke; to protect his hat while flying off a train.

Your first action was to crawl to the hat and put it on, no matter how pathetic it looked. Arthur had pushed you so far, you were surrounded by trees and shrubbery. Even if another patrol rode next to the tracks, he wouldn't see you.

With all the strength you could muster, you pushed yourself into a standing position on a tree and fought your way through the woods.

John was surely dead, or Dutch and the rest had done their job and collected him. It made no sense to spend your energy walking back, but you did so anyways. Your hands always reached for the nearest trunk to hold on to, your left leg didn’t react well to the weight you tried to put on it, so you just dragged it.

To your surprise, when you closed in on the man lying on the tracks, he was moving - and still there.

"John?", you wheezed, struggling to catch your breath, anxiously looking around. Nobody was close, even the train was so far ahead by now, that the gun shots were muffled.

When you got no response, you nudged John with your boots which made him blink lazily. There was blood seeping through his shirt and jacket. Had you ever seen so much blood? It was his left shoulder, too.

For a few seconds you just stood there, wondering. Would he even survive? How should you get him to your cabin?

In an act of desperation, you whistled, hoping your horse would be close by. And it was. You had to hold back tears of joy when it came galloping along.

"John", you squatted next to him, even though the movement hurt you greatly, "Come on, we gotta get out of here. I can't lift you on my horse alone."

Thank God, your horse was well trained and knew how to lower itself for people to get on from the ground. You still had to pull and push the half-conscious man, but you had a significantly easier time. Your body ached from all the straining, and you were quiet sure that whatever damage you had taken from the fall was significantly worsened by the exercise, but it wasn’t like you had a real choice.

You rode, as fast as the constitution of your horse would allow, straight to your cabin. The sun was setting when you arrived. John had passed out a couple of times during the ride, and it was only when you had given him some alcohol to drink and had cleaned and bandaged his wound, that he passed out - but snoring and quiet peacefully.

You had no time to inspect your own body and assess the damage the fall had done, because as soon as you were done with John and had thrown him onto your bed, you heard a horse approach.

Jack and Tilly.

According to Tilly, Arthur was still alive, but had gone to Annesburg with Sadie to get Abigail who had been taken by Pinkertons. This scared you shitless, but at this point you were too exhausted to show it. Instead, you offered Jack something to eat and then had the two of them settle down inside the house. You waited at the garden gate, listening for riders.

It was dark and almost midnight when you saw a dim light in the distance. It came from the opposite direction of where you'd expected Arthur to come from, so you pulled your gun. But soon, you were able to make out the rider. The dim light of a lantern illuminated Sadie and behind her on the horse, Abigail.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Last chapter: here

I apologize for the many typos, but I figured it was better the chapter would see the light of day instead of rotting in my drafts any longer. Took me way too long to begin with heh.

taglist: @photo1030

taglist for this series: @pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @twola @shiokitsune @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463 @yyiikes @renwai @walk-in-sunshine @rdrlady @ivybeeloved @trinswhimsys @reddedmiller @chiefqueefsosa @sauvignon-velvet @mrsarthurmorgan @readingcoco @pookiesnatcher @gloomdoomraccoon @nervousmumbling @pheesupremacy @destroyer-of-za-warudo @ratbrainbabycowboyprincess

[thegirlfromblackwater]

If the Van der Linde Gang went to the Movies (Modern Au)

Modern RDR 2 headcanons because they make me laugh, so I'll write one.

Arthur:

Definitely ends up driving everyone to the movie theater.

Also, the designated member who buys everyone's snacks and drinks (except Pearson).

He gets cranky when this happens, but stubbornly does it.

He would like action movies and Western films for he understands the cowboy world.

If Arthur had TB in the modern world, he would annoy everyone with his coughing but not give a damn.

Pearson:

He's obsessed with Popcorn.

One of those people who munches and slurps too loudly.

He probably sits alone.

I imagine he would get an extra-large popcorn but don't even think about him sharing.

He would also get a large soda.

Maybe some candy on the side.

He would unconsciously eat and gets really sucked into what's going on in the film, drowning out all the noise around him.

Mary Beth:

One of those girls who's super into Romance films with a twist of Historical fiction.

She would definitely be one of those people that cry in the theatre.

She would probably like something like "The Notebook"

Likes to go with Tilly & Ms. Grimshaw

Dislikes Horror and Sci-Fi Films that the boys always go to

Always asks Arthur for a small popcorn

Karen

Always sneaks a bottle of alcohol into the theatre under her coat.

Likes to sit with Sean. The two of them have a ball

Karen always ends up getting drunk. Will start talking nonsense with her words slurred. Sean thinks this fucking funny.

She will yell at the screen

Sean

Never stops talking during the movie

Gets a little too intimate with Karen sometimes

Usually shares the bottle of Alcohol with her too

Tries to sit next to Arthur sometimes

John

Likes to be with Arthur, Charles & Javier

Abigail tells him he needs to take Jack to a movie that's PG.

Gets annoyed at this and ends up watching something like "Despicable Me" or "Inside Out"

He once left Jack in the theatre all alone and sneaked to the other movie

Probably would enjoy a horror film every once and a while

Abigail

Usually goes with Jack to watch a kid's movie for John is incapable.

Sometimes she goes with the other female gang members.

Almost skinned John alive for taking Jack to a horror film that gave the child nightmares for weeks

Trelawny

Finds a way to upgrade himself to a recliner seat

likes foreign films

Likes popcorn with no butter

Probably has a home theatre in his house

Uncle

Doesn't know which movie he's ever going to

ends up taking a nap on the bench in the hallway

In the theatre he is the one who falls asleep and snores loudly

Says the seats aren't good for his lumbago

Strauss

Stays home and doesn't have enough time to go to the movies

Bill

Probably would enjoy a Sci-fi movie

Likes to wear 3D Glasses

Sits way too close to the screen in the very front row

Never understands fully what's going on

Always ends up spilling the popcorn on the floor

Sadie

Likes action/Adventure movies.

Will scream at the screen

Enjoys gore

Likes mystery

Grimshaw

Always regulating everyone's snack intake

Tells Pearson he eats too much

Likes to control Tilly & Marybeth in their choices

Hates sitting too close. The back or middle of the theatre is the best

Javier

For sure a popcorn stealer

Likes western films also

Gets excited when people speak Spanish in the movie

Reverend Swanson

Usually walks out halfway through the film

Makes weird noises during the film

falls asleep

Kieran

Likes calm movies especially those about animals

Likes to go with Mary Beth & the girls

Gets excited when there is a horse in one of the scenes

Is happy to go with Jack to see an animated kids' movie

Dutch

Probably would go to something like a documentary

likes to only be with Hosea

Has molly tailgating him sometimes

Hosea

Tries to con the person who sells the popcorn & Food

Will go to see whatever Dutch sees

only drinks water

Jack

Likes funny kids' movies

Probably likes Pixar

Charles

The only normal person at the movie theatre

Never cries

sits with Arthur

goes with the flow

just watches what everyone else watches

Micah

Annoying

sits alone

probably likes the worst rated movies

laughs during sad scenes

Arthur refuses to get him food

Tilly

Likes what Mary Beth likes

Probably a historical fiction type of gal

Always commenting about the movie to Mary Beth

Always giggling

Molly

Likes to follow Dutch to whatever he goes to see

Gets bored

complains about Dutch's choices

tries to separate him from Hosea

Brings her makeup

Think's Dutch's movie preferences are terrible

Lenny:

likes movies that are based on books

doesn't make a lot of noise

likes sno-caps and gummies

Any of your own ideas are welcome...

[thethreeeyed-raven]

⋆♱ AHS ♱⋆

navigation

🕷️fluff | 🕸️angst | 🐈‍⬛suggestive | 🪦platonic

⋆♱ MURDER HOUSE ♱⋆

⋆♱ Tate Langdon ♱⋆

🕷️ • meeting him in the murder house | gn!reader • part two

headcanons

⋆♱ Violet Harmon ♱⋆

🕷️ • being her best friend | headcanons | x gn!reader

⋆♱ ASYLUM ♱⋆

⋆♱ Kit Walker ♱⋆

🕷️ • the first step | x fem!reader

🕸️ • it’s okay to cry | x gn!reader

🕷️ • 🕸️ • home | x gn!reader

⋆♱ COVEN ♱⋆

⋆♱ Kyle Spencer ♱⋆

🕷️ • party party | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Misty Day ♱⋆

🕷️ • listening to fleetwood mac with her | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Nan ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ Queenie ♱⋆

🕷️ • being her best friend | headcanons | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Zoe Benson ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ FREAKSHOW ♱⋆

⋆♱ Dandy Mott ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ Jimmy Darling ♱⋆

🕷️ • defending him | x gn!reader

⋆♱ HOTEL ♱⋆

⋆♱ James Patrick March ♱⋆

🕷️ • buying him a dog | headcanons | x reader

⋆♱ Tristan Duffy ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ CULT ♱⋆

⋆♱ Ally Mayfair-Richards ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ Beverly Hope ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ Kai Anderson ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ APOCALYPSE ♱⋆

⋆♱ Cordelia Goode ♱⋆

🕸️ • as i watch you die | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Michael Langdon ♱⋆

🕸️ • qui totum vult totum perdit | x gn!reader

🕷️ • halloween party | x gn!reader

🕷️ • trick or treating | x gn!reader

🕷️ • bonfire night | x gn!reader

🕷️ • 5th of November | x gn!reader

🕷️ • new years | x gn!reader

🕷️ • valentines together | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Mr Gallant ♱⋆

🕷️ • being his best friend | headcanons | x gn!reader

⋆♱ 1984 ♱⋆

⋆♱ Bobby Richter ♱⋆

🕷️ • 🕸️ • 🪦 • finally | x sibling!reader

⋆♱ Xavier Plympton ♱⋆

🕷️ • i cared too much that it killed me | x gn!reader

⋆♱ DOUBLE FEATURE ♱⋆

⋆♱ Austin Sommers ♱⋆

🕷️ • 🕸️ • saving you from the pale people | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Harry Gardner ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ TB Karen ♱⋆

🕷️ • inspiration | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Valiant Thor ♱⋆

nothing yet

@lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom • @fangsp1der-2099 • @knight-of-flowerss

[dreamypqulson]

HOLY SHIT ???

[nthspecialll]

what’s your least favourite theory? and what’s your favourite to talk about?

I have quite a few that I dislike however the ones I hate the most are Abigail being a rat, Mary using Arthur and Hosea giving Arthur TB, those three gives me a violent headache and if you actually still believe those after listening to pros and cons I will not be taking you seriously.

My favourite to talk about however, god I have a few, but Kieran and him not being a stable hand with the O'Driscolls as well as Javier's family being dead. I like them and they at least have some of the most evidence.

Recently however I have started to look into Molly, and don't come for my head okay I am still in learning and research stage, but the fact that her character description is the only vauge one "Molly claims to have been born into a wealthy family in Dublin, Ireland" and Karen constantly saying "she is too high and mighty now" has kind of caught my attention. We don't really have any newspaper clipings from her or anything official, just her word.

[imwall-e]

Until we meet again : Chapter 1

Pairing : TB!Arthur Morgan x Reader

Warning : MAJOR SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN'T PLAY THE GAME, major character dea•th, tuberculosis, angst, (tell me if I forgot some), reader but external POV

A/N : I wrote this a few months ago and finally decided to post it. I'm really proud of this chapter, my best work so far (imo). I first wrote it in French and mostly used Deepl to translate the text, and even if I re-read it, they may be some mistake so don't hesitate to tell me! This is not beta read. This is my first work for the Red Dead fandom and I hope it's good. Consider liking, rebloging or commenting if you like my work (and feel comfortable with that of course).

The atmosphere of Beaver Hollow was already being felt long before we arrived at the new camp. The area was dark, damp, stinking. It was as if it were haunted. Cursed. As for the cave, it was a concentration of all that, only worse. Once home to a local gang nicknamed The Rejects of Murfree, it bore indelible traces of the horrors it had harbored. The smell outside was unbearable, but inside was a vision of dread. Blood was visible from floor to ceiling, pieces of decomposing corpses smeared all the way down to its entrails. Impossible to settle inside.

Where just a few weeks earlier the gang had been celebrating their exit from the snowy mountains, and everyone was ready to give their all to make a new place a comfortable place to live, now there was no laughter to be heard. Not a smile was to be seen on any of the faces. Only whispers, distrust, fear and death reigned.

And Arthur… his coughing fits were becoming more violent, and more frequent. His skin was pale, contrasting with the blue of his eyes, which betrayed his illness and fatigue.

Outlawed, hunted by the Pinkertons or opposing gangs like the O'Driscolls, he'd been shot at many times. And yet, he was dying of tuberculosis. A fucking disease. After all, he'd probably earned it with the life he was leading… had led. His punishment for beating up Mr Downes. A good man, always ready to help others even though he didn't have much.

Arthur, who'd never done anything right. Or so he thought, but she was always there to remind him otherwise. After Mary, after Eliza, he never thought he'd fall in love again. Then she'd come along, and offered him more than he thought he deserved.

Arthur had met her while hunting. She was wearing a long white dress. At first, he thought he saw an angel. Then their eyes met. He saw the fear in her eyes and decided to put down his bow. He introduced himself and she gradually seemed to calm down. After a few minutes' silence, she finally told him her name. Her voice trembled, but she'd asked for his help: she was supposed to be getting married that very day to a man she'd never met. But what she was looking for was freedom.

She wanted to travel. To discover. To live. And Arthur had offered her all that. For five years, they'd been happy together. Arthur had even proposed to her while they were still in Blackwater. But they'd kept it a secret until things got better.

Unfortunately, the moment never arrived.

Micah was a traitor. And Dutch had blindly followed him, going so far as to question the words of John and Arthur. He'd rather believe a dangerous madman than those he considered his own sons.

Arthur should have left after the Blackwater massacre. Hosea had tried to warn him when they'd all fled to Colter. Or he should have let Micah hang at Strawberry. If only he'd been willing to open his eyes to what Dutch had become. To his true nature. If only.

But it was too late now, and there was no point in dwelling on the past. Now he had t o protect those who remained. Tilly had already taken Jack to safety. Abigail was safe thanks to him and Sadie, and the two women had left to join Tilly. Mary-Beth and Karen had probably escaped too. She was the only one left. And he knew exactly where she'd be safe.

He helped his young fiancée onto her mare, then settled down behind her. He wanted to smell her hair while he still could. He wanted to hold her close. However, time was running out and lingering was a luxury they couldn't afford. The person he was looking for was passing through the Annesburg area, but they'd better get moving fast. He nudged the horse's flank to move it forward, and whistled for the stallion carrying the young woman's belongings to follow.

The journey wasn't long, but it went by faster than he would have liked. A dilapidated house appeared in the distance. Arthur had exchanged a few letters with the man who had taken an interest in his bleak landscape, a man he had helped not long ago. He was standing outside, setting up his camera. His gaze wandered to them, and he soon recognized Arthur.

"Mr. Morgan! I'm so happy to see you again! As you may have noticed, I've given up taking pictures of wildlife. I'm now content with the magnificent landscapes" exclaimed Albert, warmly greeting the man who had helped and saved him on numerous occasions. But his familiar enthusiasm soon disappeared when he saw the young woman's tears and Arthur's sickly pallor. "What's the matter?" he asked worriedly, abandoning his camera.

"Mr. Mason, I need you to…" but Arthur was interrupted by a coughing fit causing him to cough up blood as he stepped to the ground. "I'm dying and I'd like you to take care of my fiancée."

The young woman tried to smile at Albert, but knowing that the man she loved would soon be leaving her was too much to bear. It dashed all memories, all hopes of a better life with her cowboy.

"I'm sorry I haven't written to inform you, but recent events haven't given me the opportunity," Arthur resumed after helping his beloved off his horse.

The tears continued to roll silently down the cheeks of the woman who was to become Mrs Morgan. She was silent now, staring into space.

"Mr Morgan…", Albert didn't know what to say. This kind man, who had come to his aid so many times, was going to die. He could see the sadness in the lovers' eyes. And Albert saw only one way he could do something for them: "Don't worry, I'll take care of mademoiselle."

Arthur was relieved: she would be safe. She would live. He turned to her: she seemed no more than a ghost. But she had to fight. For him. For her. For them.

"I love you, Princess," he began, taking her in his arms. "More than you can imagine. I wish I'd said it more often. I regret so many things. But I promise we'll meet again. Not in this life, unfortunately, but in another. I'll find you again."

"We… we… we didn't even have time to get married," she managed to articulate between sobs, the crying resuming in earnest following Arthur's words.

"It wasn't our time. Now you must stay with Albert. Live, princess. Do it for me. I'll always watch over you, but promise me you won't let yourself die."

"I… I promise, Arthur."

That was all he needed to hear. He had to go now. He had unfinished business with Micah, but also with Dutch.

The sun was setting as he rested his forehead against hers. His way of kissing her for the last time, wanting to avoid her contracting tuberculosis too. He squeezed her hands and heard her whisper "I love you, Arthur".

He gently let go of her hands and she kept her eyes closed, not wishing to watch him go. To tell the truth, she was so focused on remembering his scent, his laugh, his voice, that she didn't even hear him mount his mare and gallop away.

When she opened her eyes again, the sky had darkened. A storm was approaching. Arthur was gone. Only Albert remained, looking after the stallion carrying the young woman's belongings. He knew she wouldn't move immediately, but it was time to go. He'd better get back to the cabin he'd rented before nightfall.

"Mademoiselle, I'm sorry but we must leave now. Tomorrow we'll go to Rhodes, my house is close to the city."

"Of course," was all she could reply, her gaze fixed on the mountains.

The journey to the cabin Albert had reserved was silent. The storm was roaring in the distance. She held back from joining Arthur. But she had to keep her promise.

Without Arthur, life would be difficult. Her heart would be broken forever, but she had to try. And one day, they would be reunited. She had to believe that.

The rain finally came, falling on her cheeks and mingling with her tears. She couldn't stop thinking about all those mornings she'd wake up alone. She couldn't accept that he wasn't coming back. Ever.

"Mademoiselle?" Albert's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "We've arrived. You should try to eat something and get some sleep." He didn't know what to do or say.

She followed him silently. Inside, she sat by the window, where she could see the mountains near Beaver Hollow. Soon, she closed her eyes, tears still flowing.

Her mind took her to a river in the middle of the woods. The light wind gently moved the leaves on the trees. She was wearing a long white dress. A branch cracked, startling her. But it was only Arthur, wearing the hat he always wore and the blue shirt she loved so much.

"You're beautiful," he said, and she threw her arms around his neck. "Dance with me?" Was there an answer other than "yes"?

And, each immersed in the other's gaze, they danced. Without stopping, they talked about their future: having a ranch, raising horses, starting a family. A quiet life away from traitors and the Pinkertons. Just them.

"I love you, Arthur."

"I love you too, princesses," he replied, kissing her tenderly. A deer passed by them. Then nothing.

When she opened her eyes again, she knew Arthur was gone.

It was nearly nine o'clock when Albert and the young woman began their journey to Rhodes.

"I think you'll like Rhodes very much, mademoiselle. It's much quieter and warmer since the Gray and Braithwaite families, two rival families, entered… well, since they left."

The young woman smiled at the mention. It brought back memories that were certainly recent, but seemed so long ago. But her smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared as she recalled Sean's death.

Then came Kieran's turn. Hosea. Lenny. Eagle Flies. John. And Arthur.

Sensing that she wouldn't talk any more than she had the day before, Albert decided to talk to her about anything and everything, in the hope of distracting her from the sadness that overwhelmed her, even if only for a few minutes.

"The landscape is also much brighter. Annesburg offers beautiful scenery, but it's a very dark, eerie area. Rhodes is nicer, warmer."

Albert was right: the further they got from Annesburg, the fresher the air seemed, the more colorful and welcoming the surroundings.

She glanced back one last time, to where Arthur had remained. Her heart sank. She felt she was abandoning him. But she had to stay strong.

Finally, Rhodes appeared before them as the sun tinted the sky orange, ready to give way to the moon.

"Miss, look!"

A majestic deer had stopped in the middle of the road, staring at them with its big dark eyes.

"It's the first time I've seen one approach like that. They're usually very frightened," Albert continued.

The deer approached the young woman and rested its muzzle against her leg. She gently touched its large antlers, then the animal moved away, disappearing among the trees.

"Goodbye, Arthur."

I hope you liked this first chapter!

[stevenbasic]

GITJ Post 310: Back to the Study Clinics, p2

Karina Katasova, APRN, CANS, known around the office as “Karen” (but AKA Agent KLCTVxx0038цч/0FHMA007 or Subj F000025a-KK depending on to whom you’re talking) put on her mask and readied herself to step in and see her first subject of the morning. Bates, Thalia: nineteen years of age, the daughter of an American senator from the US state of Minnesota. Karina had worked with this girl before, at this clinical site once and several times in the Department of Psychosocial Engineering at Evolution Pharmaceuticals. She’d been taking to treatment nicely, and was weaponizing well.

Stupid man is in there by himself already, she spoke to herself, frustrated and exasperated as she adjusted her bra, settling her full bosom in her newly too-tight blouse, alone. What’s worse is that she heard them interacting, through the door, slightly ajar. “I’ve put on another 20 pounds doctor,” Karina heard the girl’s voice speaking, “can you tell me where it’s all going?”

‘Karen’ knocked once, waited a brief moment, then opened the door to the exam room.  “Doctor, sorry I’m late b-…” she intoned before trailing off, the sight of her erstwhile “boss's” head being absolutely swallowed, engulfed by their mutual patient’s enormous bosom, taking Karina momentarily by surprise. 

I warn him, we all warn him many times - need mask! she immediately thought, protective in her own way of him, one of her assets on this assignment. She stepped hurriedly in towards the supply cabinet over the sink. But he is stupid man. Should follow protocol if he know what good for him. 

This girl, Thalia, Product Study #F8-021-TB, was typical of the several teenagers enrolled in this pre-rollout of Product: imprudent, incautious, impetuous. Perhaps because of their active, still-pubescent hormone profiles, girls of this age were taking very strongly to treatment, seeing fast, dramatic results that outpaced others. Pheromone levels were invariably off the charts, which excited the executives and other movement leaders. But these girls also tended to be reckless and soon after starting treatment they all began to follow similar patterns of impulsive behavior. They needed handling, sometimes closely. They were a handful but Karina, and others from the Department of Psychosocial Engineering, found them fascinating. And, most thrilling, they were certainly powerful. In what was already being called the Battle of the Sexes by some (while many remained oblivious to what was happening right in front of their faces) the teens would make great weapons.

Karina knew that Study Subject #F8-021-TB was no exception.

Exasperated again, Karen found that, when she opened the cabinet, all the masks embedded with synthetic Patient 0 pheromones were gone. “These rooms need stocking every morning…” she muttered to herself, shutting the cabinet in new frustration and knowing neither of the other two people in the room with her were listening. The Bates patient had intentionally flooded the room with pheromones and was now too busy blithely embosoming the middle-aged man kneeling on the ground in front of her, and Dr. J was, well, too busy being embosomed. Karen had heard the doctor say, at one point last week, that he had ‘concerns about how young some of these study subjects are,’ but he was not looking very concerned at the moment, buried to the ears. In fact, he looked ready to pass out. 

Karina placed her hands on her shapely hips and, with a wry look of disapproval, addressed her young patient. “Thalia…” she began, “you know we’ve talked about this….”

“What..?” the girl answered, looking up from her seat but not releasing her arms from around the poor man’s head. His face was absolutely disappeared between her inflated breasts, the thin tee that this place used as gowns for some of these patients the only thing separating him from skin that was currently releasing pheromones of apocalyptic levels. “He’s just listening to my heartbeat…”

The doctor, who was necessary for the particular governmental requirements of this sham of a study, mostly for his signature, did not move. His arms laid limply at his sides. Karen took the moment to regard him, regard the room - which some of the silly young girls who worked here had taken to decorating like a teenager’s bedroom, complete with hanging plastic vines. She had to admit that seeing a small man like the doctor being overwhelmed and enveloped so effortlessly by a young female was thrilling.

She looked now again at her patient. Thalia had taken to smiling beatifically again, down at her little charge with a delicate smirk. She held him firmly to her breasts, his face caught between twin pillows that were easily larger than his head, and was trying to push him deeper, to completely hide him from sight. It was almost like Thalia wanted to engulf him, to make him disappear completely into her curves. Peklo, I would like to smother man too, Karen thought, momentarily overcome by desires that seemed, recently, to be building in frequency and potency. She understood where they came from, these prion-mediated impulses, but was still sometimes surprised by them. 

Thalia, for her part, was looking down at the precious little doctor, held fast to her chest.  She marveled at her own size, the way her tits just devoured his head.  Karina heard her speaking, softly, almost to herself. “I’m so much bigger than I was when this whole trial started…” Thalia was saying, “Isn’t that right, my little boob-monkey? Bigger, bigger, bigger. Mmmm…boob-monkeys…all of you… gonna love losing yourselves in these…nnnn…”

And the doctor, for his part, seemed completely overcome, not putting forth even a ghost of a struggle despite the frankly life-threatening predicament he was in.  Karina was tempted, so very tempted to do nothing, to watch this young, budding queen exercise her control and authority over this little man.  But, she couldn’t ignore how purple the tips of his ears were becoming, and if he was actually harmed there would be a lot of paperwork to do. With a sigh, she cleared her throat, perhaps a little too loudly.

“Do I really need to let him go?” Thalia whined, sounding suddenly younger than her eighteen years. 

“Yes, Thalia, for now,” Karen replied, evenly, hands still on hips. 

With a petulant little “hmph” Thalia released the doctor, who fell back on his knees, catching himself with one hand to the ground. He was breathing hard, gasping for air, his face rapidly shifting from purple to a deep, embarrassed crimson. 

“You okay, doc?” Karen asked, fighting to keep the amusement from her voice as he looked up at her in surprise, shocked to see her in the room with them, “Do you need a minute?”

The doctor muttered something, obviously confused and bewildered. 

“Why don’t you step out, go get the cup of the coffee?” Karen suggested, dropping her voice naturally into the deeper, richer timbre she used with her patients, activating her laryngeal implant. She watched his face change, become both entirely focused on her and transfixed on another level. After years of training and some help from her own arcanely supplemented physiology, her suggestions could be nigh impossible to refuse, if she so desired. “In the breakroom? Down the hall?” she purred, “Wouldn’t that be the nice?”

“Y-yeah…just n-need to…er…coffee, breakroom…” he stammered, standing. Karen helped him, steadying him with a sure hand before sending him on his way on wobbly legs. He was compromised, and would be useless for a while.

“Go,” Karen commanded, and he immediately complied. The playful giggle of Thalia’s sing-song laughter chased him from the room.

The two women shared a silent moment, each in their own thoughts. “You’re about to use those Jedi-mind tricks on me, now, aren’t you?” Thalia eventually asked, looking up at Karen with an expectant smile. 

Karina Katasova, APRN, smiled herself and pulled over the room’s rolling exam stool. “Yes, is that okay?” she asked. 

“Omigod I can’t wait…” the young patient exclaimed, sitting up straight and leaning forward, ready for her treatment…

==============================================

Thanks to CaptainAmbiguous for his help/co-writing on this scene, and to model Tally Berry for allowing us to use her image; support her on OnlyFans if you can.

My Patreon

[witheredoffherwitch]

some hatred towards alysmond is coming from people with weird moral indignation i'm afraid. how do i know? cause in 9 out of 10 aemond×oc fics reader is soft, submissive, boring as hell and aemond is possessive, jealous and control freak. certain people will never like alys cause they can't relate to her. she is cunning, knows how to survive and make the best of it, and she is immediately labelled as dangerous seductive famme fatale. i don't care what they say, i knew for many years that really strong women don't put down those who clearly are confident and smart because they don't feel threatened by them. even if that's about the fictional character but you see those people can't tell a difference between real person and fictional character as they proved when telling olivia they hate her cause she plays a cunt and insulting gayle looks just because they expected eva green of katie mcgrath so they can get the confirmation she seduced him with her looks. sorry to disappoint you but even maesters noticed aemond in harrenhall didn't choose some younger ladies to bed but alys. they can't understand aemond fell in love because she was smart, witty, resourceful? maybe to him looks didn't matter but i dunno, something like personality? but they don't know what personality is so what to discuss here? now having oc with no personality bland as fuck is sign of genius. you know you can't write smart character with personality because then people won't self insert. they only can self insert into complete idiots. good to know they are impressed by someone nameless and faceless and personalityless. fools can only identify with fools.

not gonna lie helaemonds have a part of trashing alys cause they can't get over their disappointment she would be casted when they were sure alys would be cut cause her powers went to helaena. i have ss of their comments or posts so if they piss me off i would public it. they also can't comprehend why aemond would leave capital to begin with he was to fuck helaena during the war. huge bunch of helaemonds openly admitted they don't care about aemond, all they care about is helaena being with someone better than aegon. they don't understand aemond and his motives, they constantly trash aegon as worse than daemon and viserys combined so best to ignore them, their brains don't work anymore.

alys suffers from both teams cause both teams need a punching bag. tb does want every woman to uphold the patriarchy to just call them karens and they will be hugely disappointed because alys doesn't support the patriarchy so this argument works only with alicent and even helaena. tg is full of people with parasocial relationships with ewan and aemond as if any of them would ever have sex with them. they are jealous alys gets to have sex with him and they have to self insert into bland copy paste oc.

i feel really sorry for these writers who think writing alys as bad bitch will make their uninteresting self insert bland oc great or more shippable with aemond. how they are stuck in their black white thinking of the world when they write alys as smart, ambitious=bad bitch and oc naive, innocent, soft, submissive=great girlfriend material. it must be so boring to feel threatened by fictional character who isn't brainless like most of their ocs. so they need to cope by writing blushing virgin for aemond and that's how they convince themselves they'll find their aemond is real life. imagine how sad their life is!

Hi nonnie 🤗

This ask has been sitting in my inbox pile for ages; but fear not, I have finally unearthed it 😭

And honestly, there's not much to add - your words ring true and I couldn't agree more. Keep spilling that pipin' hot tea!

[thedarklinkfell]

Hadn't seen one of these before so here we go! No middle of the road choices, just one vote for your fave. Evan poll [HERE]