#arthur is seeing through that act but us still torn about it

[arthursfuckinghat]

Full disclosure, I'm still on chapter 6 but I wanted to say a few things:

Arthur isn't a mindless killer. If he is mass murdering civilians, that's your choice.

Arthur knows that pain is not currency that you can exchange, and causing it only builds a debt - the kind he can't pay off.

He says it himself, "Revenge is a fool's game" - He writes constantly about his remorse in the journal.

Led by Dutch, the Van Der Linde gang have been chasing the feeling of living by their own terms so much that it's killing them. Pursuing that high has only left them to run forever, from those who want to clip their wings of freedom for the sake of law.

The O'Driscoll and Cornwall feud is a scapegoat for Dutch to get revenge for himself and his pride, he uses his charismatic rhetoric to sway the gang and justify all his actions. If they don't obey, they get named and shamed. Dutch labeling the gang as a family and treating them as such has conditioned them to know not to disappoint him, especially Arthur.

Arthur was taught not to bite the hand that feeds him, even when he wasn't fed.

The days of stealing from the rich and giving to the poor are long gone. Their way of living is outdated and they're running out of land to run away to.

This pursuit of freedom, once idealised, has become a desperate attempt to survive in a world that doesn't want them.

Their hearts have always been in the right place, but their guns were misguided by Dutch.

That loyalty has killed them.

[blackcatwriter]

Linger Part 2 (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

a/n: Part 2 is finally here! I stayed up a little late for a few days to push this one out because I wanted to get it done before my classes started. Thank you to the lovely @scumscumpooties47 for helping to edit all that I write. Literally none of these would be posted if I didn't have your encouragement. Happy reading!

warnings: typical canon violence, no use of Y/N, angst if you squint, happy ending, fluff, possibly some grammatical mistakes, slight spoilers to Ch. 4 but once again creative liberties are taken

wc: 3.1k

tags: @warmsideofthepillow03

summary: You make up your mind, Arthur struggles to keep his promise once more.

divider by @plum98

The ride out of St. Denis grew quiet as the cobblestoned streets faded to dirt roads leading back to the Largras swamps. In place of the bustling streets were the croaks and cries of the animals that resided there. Arthur’s mind was in a haze, reeling from the amount of emotions he felt from seeing you again.

Nervousness. Relief. Desperation. Longing. Love.

The moment he saw you at that damned party he instantly forgot what his purpose of being there was for. Arthur disappeared from Dutch’s side to find you. He didn’t even know what he’d say to you much less if you’d be willing to hear him out.

But god–being away from you for months without a clue of your wellbeing just to see you all dressed up at a party shot a bullet straight through his heart. He knew he wouldn’t be able to leave that party without talking to you, but he hadn’t expected everything that proceeded after.

Following a lady home after clearly upsetting her? Asking her to run away with you again? Here you had him acting like a damn teenage boy with a crush.

“What the hell am I doing, girl?” Arthur muttered to his steed. As if understanding his frustration, Bodicea huffed in response, earning a sigh from him. “I’m a fool for thinking she’d want to show up after everything.” As he reached the gang’s hideout, Arthur left his horse to graze while he readied himself for what Dutch would have to say.

Dutch wouldn’t take too kindly to Arthur disappearing from helping the gang look for leads, especially if it was for the lost love Dutch told him to leave in the past. “Distractions cost the gang. Let her go,” Dutch would remind Arthur while his heartbreak was still fresh from leaving you.

“Arthur! Get in here!” Dutch yelled from the front porch of the creaky manor, crushing his cigar into the ground with his boat before striding inside. Complying to his orders, Arthur followed behind him quickly.

“I have a plan. We’re going to rob the trolley station tomorrow. Micah claims he heard Pinkertons not too far behind us so we’ll need to act–”

“Tomorrow?” Arthur’s face paled. “We ain’t never robbed something in a city before. The law is gonna be all over the place! We need more time than just a day’s notice.” Arthur looked down at the map Dutch had on the table. “We’ll be backed into a corner by the law before the Pinkertons catch news and come for the rest of us–if we ain’t dead by then!” 

“Are you doubting me, son? There’s already been enough of that amongst the gang. I don’t need to hear anymore of that, especially from my best gun.” Dutch scowled. “What I need to hear is that you have my back. Do you have my back, Arthur?” 

Pushing you to the back of his mind, he answered, “Always, Dutch.” 

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Dutch walked upstairs to his makeshift room. Sighing, Arthur sat down with his head in his hands. He felt torn in half. On one hand, he had his loyalties to the gang. He had been with them, with Dutch, for practically his whole life. He owed Dutch his life, but lately he couldn’t help but feel as if Dutch wasn’t thinking his plans through. 

On the other hand, there was you. You, who had held him when he could no longer bear the weight of the guilt he kept inside. You, who would listen to him talk about the few precious memories he had with his mother. You, who Arthur loved dearly. Too distracted by the conflicting feelings in his head, Arthur didn’t notice Hosea sitting down by him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so thoughtful, Arthur.” The old man chuckled to himself. “What’s on your mind, son?” Sighing, Arthur raised his face. Some things might slip by Dutch, but Hosea seemed to always know when something was wrong. 

“You ever regret it? Coming back to this shit hole?” From what Arthur picked up when Hosea mentioned his life with Bessie, he had it pretty damn good. The pair lived in a cabin up in the Grizzlies until Hosea was roped back into their life of crime. Bessie had come along with him until she tragically died.

“I regret bringing Bessie with me.” He paused, his voice growing solemn. “Maybe she’d still be alive if I left her behind.” The grief ridden man’s words hit Arthur deeply. Bessie unfortunately already met her end, but you hadn’t. You still had a chance to live your life unafraid of the people that might come after you. 

“It’s that woman again, isn’t it?” A small smile grew on Hosea’s face. “She’s why you disappeared from us.”

“It ain’t like that.” Vulnerable at the mention of you, Arthur stood from his seat practically storming away from Hosea until he put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Son, even as bad as it is for us now…you still have a chance to do right by your woman. Take what you’ve got and don’t look back.” Loosening his grip on Arthur’s arm, Hosea disappeared up the stairs. 

Hearing Hosea telling him he had his blessing to walk out on the gang left Arthur feeling more unsure than ever. While he loved the people in the gang he had come to know as family, you had become his home away from home (as much as the gang’s ever changing campgrounds can be called “home”.)

Needless to say Arthur didn’t get much sleep that night.

The following morning you were awake as soon as the sun had risen, pacing in your room. You were sure the servants would be annoyed by the constant creak your floorboards made with each step, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The suitcase you had packed in a frenzy last night poked out from under the bed. You had no idea what came over you when you packed it. It was a blur of grabbing random items you thought might be worth selling and as many snacks you could steal from the kitchen without raising suspicion.

Picking at your sleeves you pondered all the possibilities that could occur. 

1)One of the servants finds out and stops you before you can leave. 2) Arthur gets caught by a bounty hunter for whatever bounty he has over his head because he’s Arthur and always seems to be in some kind of trouble. 3) Arthur is killed by anyone else he might’ve wronged from being with Dutch (You hated that man. You always had a bad feeling about him.) 4) Arthur and you manage to leave the city and live in a hidden cabin somewhere in the mountains 5) Arthur doesn’t show up.

Somehow even the possibilities of Arthur’s death seemed better than him abandoning you all over again. Death would mean he left you against his will. Your better judgment told you not to take him for his word. The two of you had already tried this once–look where it got you– but even now the love you still felt for him won you over.

So now here you were, endlessly treading back and forth your room. This was it. You were going to trust that he would be standing at the bridge he said he would and run away with him. 

Suddenly a quiet knock was heard from your door followed by a light voice, “Ma’am? Is everything alright?” Recognizing the voice as your maid, Nora, you quickly opened the door and plastered a smile on your face. “Of course it is. Why are you asking?” You huffed, blowing your hair out of your face.

Oh god, she sees right through you. She can probably tell what’s going through your mind just by the frantic look in your eyes. She’ll alert the other servants and soon enough your husband will cut his business trip short to deal with you. Maybe she’ll keep it a secret if you bribe her.

“Not to be nosy, but the other maids and I heard ye’ pacing since the sun came up. Would ye’ like me to make some tea?” Your stiffness eased at her efforts to offer you some comfort in the form of tea. Since you first arrived at your fiance’s residence Nora had been the only person who made you feel welcomed. She might be the only person you’d miss once you’d left.

Thanking her, you walked downstairs to the drawing room and waited for the tea. You definitely had to calm down. Your nerves were causing you to look like a mess in front of everyone, but the urge to just race out the front door to Arthur’s arms was too strong. The love of your life was so close to you yet so far.

Soon what felt like eons passed and noon was just half an hour away. It would be easy to make up an excuse to get out of the house, but how does one explain carrying a suitcase? Nonsense, you’re their employer (engaged to their employer but nonetheless), and they had no authority to question what you do in a day.

“Nora, I’ll be taking my afternoon walk earlier today. Don’t worry if I take longer than usual. I plan on running some errands while I’m out.” You called out while you dashed to the front door as fast as you could without tripping over yourself.

“But ma’am what about Mr. Finch?” Nora chimed, noticing the suitcase you held in your hand. Stopping in your tracks you turned around to face her. “What about my fiance?” Confusion evident in your voice. Did you forget something?

“He’s coming home early, remember?” Nora reminded you. Ah, there it is. You had forgotten he was going to come home early, but you’ll be long gone by the time he turns up. “I’m sure I’ll be home before he arrives.” You gave a tight lipped smile.

“Oh ma’am, you needn’t hold your own suitcase. That’s why ye’ have the help.” She gestured for one of the nearby servants to take the suitcase from you. 

“Nonsense, I can carry my own belongings. You all do enough as it is.” You flinched and held the suitcase closer to yourself. 

If she was suspicious of you, she didn’t show it. With a hesitant nod she let the matter go and returned to her duties. Having nothing else that needed tending to, you left. You walked out the door with your heart beating out of your chest.

The walk to the bridge was only a few short minutes. No one had bothered you once you were out the door, which you were glad about. You didn’t want anything to do with your pretentious neighbors anymore or their weekly tea gatherings to discuss the latest gossip of high-society. 

No, you wanted to be with Arthur and spend the rest of your life exploring the country by his side. Who knew where you’d go first? Obviously you’d have to lay low until his face was no longer on wanted posters–perhaps the Grizzlies?

You were abruptly pulled from your thoughts when a lawman bumped into you as he ran by causing you to fall. “Excuse you–” You had started to reprimand him as you reached for your suitcase when you looked up and realized all the policemen were running from their posted stations.

“What the hell?” You mumbled under your breath, furrowing your eyebrows at the commotion going on around you. Lifting yourself off the ground you ran to the nearest policeman. “What’s going on? Why are people running?” In the back of your mind you had an idea of who might be behind the uproar, but you desperately wished it wasn’t him.

“Dutch! The damn brakes are broken!” Arthur yelled, racing to get to the back of the trolley. Maybe if he was lucky he’d die on impact. Going far too fast for the tracks to handle, the trolley was thrown to its side on the street. The outlaw was hurled forward before falling to his side. “Jesus…” He groaned, crawling out of the streetcar.

Dutch remained where he had been tossed,  holding his head in his hands. “Dutch?” Arthur yelled as he reloaded his gun, firing back at the police as they swarmed them from all sides. 

Dutch moaned something intelligible to the gunners. “We need to get him out of here. You still alive, Lenny?” Switching to his rifle, Arthur began aiming for the lawmen on the balconies and roofs of the buildings.

“I’m here! I’m okay, but we got to move fast. Pinkertons are definitely gonna catch wind of this,” Lenny shouted from behind some crates. Spitting out a string of curse words, Arthur angrily pushed forward while Lenny helped Dutch.

He should’ve never gone with Dutch on this job. Dutch had trusted Angelo Bronte was telling the truth when in reality he had been stringing them along. They were idiots to think the Italian man would let them take money from the city he owned. Most of all, he was angry with himself. 

It must’ve been noon by then. If you had completely lost your sanity, you would’ve been waiting for him where he told you he’d be. If you hadn’t already been mad as hell with him before, you had to be now. He should’ve listened to Hosea when he had the chance.

“There’s a wagon up over there. If you cover us I think I can get Dutch in the back,” Lenny suggested, to which Arthur quickly agreed. Arthur proceeded to fire back at the police, allowing Lenny the chance to move a groggy Dutch into the wagon. Briskly following behind, Arthur jumped onto the wagon. The horses were quickly startled into pulling them forward while the police scurried to catch up to them.

They maneuvered the wagon as efficiently as they could with all the obstacles in their way, leading Arthur to wonder if word had gotten to you by now. He would rather you unleash your anger on him than be disappointed in him. God, your disappointment killed him. Arthur hated to be anything less than the man you deserved, but time and time again he seemed to always fall short.

“Arthur! They shot off our wheel!” Lenny held a tight grip on the reins, struggling to keep control before ultimately crashing into an alley. Dutch thankfully hadn’t been too affected by the crash, but was definitely unfit to fight off anyone. 

“Take him and get out of here. I’m gonna lead em’ away.” Arthur placed a hand on Lenny’s shoulder. “Keep him safe.” 

Giving a quick nod, Lenny dragged Dutch away until they were out of sight. Arthur ran the opposite way, taking the attention of the few lawmen that remained on their tail. He eventually killed them off one by one until he was left aching on the floor clutching his side. 

“Ah, shit,” He hissed, hunching over as he got up. A bullet had grazed his side at some point in his long fight with the law and the adrenaline coursing through his veins hadn’t allowed him to notice until that point.

Huffing, Arthur leaned against the wall staring down at the men he had killed. Was it realistic to believe they could actually make it out alive to Tahiti? As much as Arthur wanted to believe him, he saw no reality where Dutch would be happy as a mango farmer. The outlaws’ quick tempers would inevitably lead to someone dead in the street. 

“Take what you’ve got and don’t look back.”

He hadn’t gotten much money from the heist, but he did have a few trinkets in his satchel that were worth good money. It might be enough to help the pair of you get away while the police were still searching. God, with you he could try to be a better man. He could find a real job, one that wouldn’t leave a target on your backs. Or you could go off into the woods and let your only company be the deers–he’d go anywhere, do anything, if it meant he would be by your side. 

Breaking his heart from knowing who he’d be leaving behind, Arthur made the decision to be loyal to what truly mattered to him. 

Stumbling away, Arthur forced himself to fight the ache in his bones to get to you. It was no guarantee you’d still be there–if you were ever there at all. No, he didn’t have time to let himself doubt. Weaving through the backstreets full of passing immigrants until he was forcibly grabbed and pulled to the side. Before he could whip out his pistol, your voice stopped him.

“Arthur! Oh, thank god you’re alright! You stupid man, I had no idea where you were and I was looking all over–”

Before you could ramble any further he pulled you against him and embraced you tightly, ignoring the pain. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, letting your suitcase fall to your feet as you took him in. He was alive. Your Arthur was alive–seemingly hurt–but alive nonetheless.

“You stupid man.” You murmured into his chest, earning a low chuckle from your lover. “S’fine. We’re gonna be okay.” Arthur pressed a shaky kiss to your temple. He could finally breathe again.

“We need to get out of here. You’re hurt–you need help.” You pulled back to examine him, a worried look spreading across your face. “Arthur–” He stopped you with a kiss, taking you by shock.

“M’sorry. I’ve been waiting for so long I didn’t know when I’d get to do that again.” If he’d ever get to do that again. Resting your forehead against his, you let a moment of silence pass. You were together again.

Despite his struggle, Arthur picked up your suitcase and led you to the outskirts of the city, dodging the policemen as best as he could. He had to do his best to avoid trouble now because he held his entire world in his hand. Arthur was responsible for taking care of you now and he’d damn well shoot himself in the foot before he let anything happen to you.

“Is this really happening? I can’t even believe it…I love you Arthur. I’m still mad you were dumb enough to try shooting your way out of the city, but I’ll be mad at you later.” You squeezed his hand with a giddy smile on your face.

“I’ll do better. I…I want to do better for you. I love you.” He gave you a small smile. You spent the rest of the walk to his horse out of the city telling him all the things you wanted to do now that you were starting your lives together.

He could spend the rest of his life listening to you talk. Hanging his hat on the wall, leaving his criminal lifestyle would be hard to leave behind, but for you he’d do it a million times over. He’d do anything to make you happy and now he finally could.

[post-it-notes7]

Is there a reason as to why Falspar is so protective of Dragato or is he that way with all his friends? I think you once implied something between them

Oh boy anon, strap in this is going to be a long one. It's time for some GSA backstory.

(Fair warning, this'll make the most sense if you've read most of my fics, namely In Your Dreams and dumb luck)

So, starting off! The four remaining orbs of the GSA (Arthur, Nonsurat, Dragato, Falspar) all went through some rough character development following the abrupt split of the GSA (where Nightmare attempted to wipe all of them out in one fell swoop, and what caused MK to be split up along with the rest of them, leading everyone to be presumed dead.) This took place several years ago on the H&S timeline, marking the gray period when MK thought he was truly the last star warrior, and leading all the way to Kirby landing in Dreamland, and so on.

Almost everyone was scattered to a different part of space, with Arthur being sent in one direction, Dragato in another, and Nonsurat and Falspar being the only two who ended up in nearly the same place. From then on, it took years for the four of them to reassemble. This had different effects on everyone.

Arthur had to grapple with the fact that he'd lost his entire army. This evolved into a far worse paranoia about losing what little he has left, and made him fearful that his entire purpose (to defeat Nightmare) was essentially now a lost cause. Nonsurat used to council Arthur much more regularly about decisions, as he helped shaped the GSA with Arthur and served as his right-hand-man. However, upon reuniting, Nonsurat had grown his own fears, and now worried that pushing against Arthur's word would end up fracturing what small pieces were left of the GSA. It's a mess. Their current relationship is built off of ignoring everything bad that's already happened in hopes of making something better out of it. All of them could really use the time in Dreamland to relax.

Now we move onto Dragato. He became much more independent in the time spent split from the rest of the group. If you compare him to his past self in the fic dumb luck, he knows the importance of working as a solid group, and he also trusts Arthur's commands. He doesn't like solitude. He'd never turn against the GSA—but years later, after the split, in In Your Dreams, he has the experience of functioning on his own that lets him wake up to the fact that Arthur's plans aren't reflecting the true spirit of the GSA's anymore. Arthur has changed, and that the only way to stop Arthur from leading the group down a bad path is for Dragato to break away from it, and demand they reassess themselves.

If you're still with me, it's now finally time to get to Falspar! He was the most outgoing and social of the group, and being torn from the GSA, the community he'd come to see as his home, was bad. It was real bad. Falspar thrives in company, and finding himself all alone is terrible fear of his. If Nonsurat hadn't been there with him for the duration of the split, he does not know what he would have done with himself. Now that the four of them have come back together, with Nightmare gone, he will do everything in his power to keep them safe from harm, even if that means acting on complete impulse and fumbling his way through it until it works. Arthur brought them together in the first place, and he has to trust that following Arthur now is the only way to ensure that everything stays that way. He can't keep lose others. He doesn't know what he'll do if he finds that he's alone again.

And so, with that context out of the way, we get to Falspar's current relationship to Dragato.

They were recruited into the GSA around the same time, they rose through the ranks together until both becoming generals, each for their own reasons, and they're essentially best friends. They get into arguments a lot, as shown in dumb luck, but at the end of the day they care about each other. They want to outlast the war together.

Somewhere along this time, Falspar developed a small crush. He didn't tell Dragato. In fact, he squashed it down and pretended it didn't exist until it became scarily apparent how much of his heart he had put into the idea "we'll make it through the war together."

Dragato on the other hand, is completely and entirely oblivious.

Once more, in dumb luck, it's discussed that Dragato is well-versed in shoving aside his emotions so he can focus on the necessary conflicts at hand. So long as there's something he views as more important than himself going on, he is focusing on that and relying highly on the logical side of things to get him through it, not so much his own emotional input. He doesn't think he can reliable trust his own emotions when they get him in so much trouble at times (i.e. challenging Falspar to a duel out of essentially a stress-induced, emotional panic). He's not good at reading what he feels. Falspar is his friend, but in dumb luck it's possible see just how little of a grasp he has on what that means to himself, and how he actually feels about it. He cares for him, certainly, but he can't gauge how much, and often not until some damage is done.

He could requite Falspar's feelings, and have no idea.

This sort of disconnect makes it that Dragato is easily blindsided by his own emotions. He needs time to adjust to a life without the threat of NME hanging over his head before he can focus on himself. Until then, he's sticking with the notion that Falspar is his friend, whether it means they're standing on opposite sides or not. After all, together is a much looser concept to him. The both made it out alive, what more could he have asked for.

Falspar is taking this far worse. They've made it through the war, but there's so many loose ends to tie up and they've lost so much that his idea of the future is no longer simple. He loves Dragato, but there's no place for that when there's still NME monsters to pick off, and a new potentially galaxy-wide threat to fear. He doesn't know if Dragato will ever see him as more than a friend. He doesn't know if Dragato's idea of together was only the GSA.

One thing is certain though, and it's that despite orders from Arthur, his duty as a star warrior, and common sense, Falspar will always put Dragato's safety first. If he loses him, what's left of his dream would be gone. Falspar doesn't know if his heart could take it.

So, to answer your question at last anon! Falspar has always been protective of his friends, though the time spent separated twisted this into something he completely panics about under certain circumstances. Dragato is his friend, and then some, and he'll always be Falspar's first concern.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Aftermath (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

A/N: Here is my masterlist and here is the link to go to if you’d like to be on any of my taglists! My latest rdr2 fic was a Charles fluffy piece called The Chase if you want to check it out :)

Warnings: mentions of falling off a train, hurt reader, descriptions  of wounds and blood, but mostly fluffiness

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: After a heist ends badly, Arthur cleans you up and chastises you for not being more careful. 

***

Your horse came to a stop in front of the hitch post just outside of camp. You paused for a moment to breathe now that you were safe. 

Your heart was still racing from the events of earlier and your hands gripped your horse’s reins so tightly that your knuckles hurt. But that pain was nothing compared to the rest of your body. 

“Need a hand, Y/N?” Lenny asked, tying his horse up and moving towards you. 

“Get me down before Arthur-,” You stopped, the sound of hooves pounding against the earth making your stomach clench up. You knew it was him. 

Lenny helped you down from your horse, catching you as you slipped down from the saddle. You tried to put weight on your left leg, but the pain in your ankle was too much. You nearly collapsed. 

“Easy there, Y/N.” Lenny kept his arm around you. 

Your eyes caught sight of Arthur and John coming into camp. 

“Go, Lenny.” You urged, letting him go and giving him a push away from you. 

“Are you sure, Y/N? You can’t even stand on your own.”

“I’ll be fine, Lenny.” You assured him, leaning against the hitch post for support. “He’s angry and I don’t want him yellin’ at you.”

“Tie ‘er up.” You heard Arthur tell John, no doubt talking about his horse. You couldn’t bring yourself to look in the direction of his voice. 

You took a deep breath and started to make your way across camp to yours and Arthur’s tent. You gritted your teeth together. Your nails dug into your palms from how tightly your fingers were curled up. But you pushed through the pain and kept going. You just needed to make it to the tent before Arthur could make a scene in front of everyone. 

“Y/N!” Susan gasped. “What in the hell happened to you, girl?”

You wanted to shake it off, to tell her you were fine, but you knew if you opened your mouth you’d make some sort of pained sound, something that would alert a certain outlaw that you were more injured than you let on. 

“Don’t let her walk away from you, Mrs. Grimshaw.” Arthur spoke, his voice deep and devoid of the usual teasing tone he had when he spoke towards you. 

“What happened, Arthur?” Hosea moved towards you both, wanting to make sure you were okay. 

You shook your head, still hastily walking in the direction of the tent.

“Y/N!”

You didn’t acknowledge Arthur. 

“Don’t you walk away from me, woman!”

You were so close to the tent, maybe another six steps and then you’d be able to—

A large hand grabbed hold of your arm and he pulled you around to face him. You lost your balance, stepping on to your left leg. You cried out in pain and your knee buckled. 

Arthur caught you, one of his arms wrapping around your torso while the other grabbed your hip. 

“Let me go, Arthur!” You pushed against him, your hands flat against his chest as you tried to put as much space between yourself and him as possible. 

“Don’t be fucking stupid, Y/N. Ya got a busted ankle. Shouldn’t be walkin’ on it.”

“I can handle it my-damn-self!” You protested, still pushing against him. You tried to pry his hands away from you, to break his firm grip on you by grabbing his fingers and pulling away but he wasn’t letting go. 

“Quit being so goddamned stubborn, woman.” Arthur growled through clenched teeth. “Ya just fell off a fuckin’ movin’ train! Stop tryin’ to act so tough!”

“Get your hands off of me, Arthur Morgan!”

“Enough!” Dutch boomed, sending a wave of silence across the whole camp. It was only then that you realized everyone was watching you look like a fool. 

Arthur released you. The second he did, your weight was naturally distributed to both of your legs. You winced and lost your balance, using a crate by John and Abigail’s tent for support. 

Arthur flinched as if he’d catch you, but you caught yourself before he could come to the rescue. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Dutch asked, a furrow in his brow. 

“M’fine.” You forced through gritted teeth. “Wish people would stop askin’ me that.”

“Looks like you got into a bad fight at the saloon and lost.” Micah commented. 

“I’ll fucking show you a bad fight, you fucking inbreed-,”

“You better watch your mouth-,”

“I might be torn to hell but I will beat your ass into the ground-,”

“Cool it, both of you!” John intervened, stepping in front of Micah. 

“You can barely stand on your own, and you’re covered in blood.” Dutch said.  

“S’not my own.” You muttered, but he didn’t bother to listen to you. “Least I don’t think it is.”

“We don’t need you dyin’ off from an infected wound, Y/N. If you won’t let Arthur help you patch yourself up, have one of the girls do it.”

You nodded, locking your jaw tightly. 

Hosea shooed everyone away, knowing very well you’d pick Arthur. You were thankful that he’d give you guys some privacy. It was hard when the only walls you had in camp were made of canvas. 

“Are ya gonna stop bein’ a stubborn ass so I can help you?” Arthur asked. 

You nodded, keeping your eyes down. 

He moved towards you, carefully scooping you up bridal style. You winced, eyes squeezing shut. The way you were moved created a sharp pain in your ribs. 

Arthur took you to your shared tent and sat you down on the cot. 

“Start taking off your clothes.” He moved away from you and began to unravel the sides of the tent to give you privacy. 

Your hands were too heavy. Your muscles ached. Even the thought of moving brought on pain. You knew very well you wouldn’t be able to undress by yourself. 

Arthur glanced over his shoulder to look at you and saw that you were just staring at the picture of his mother he had framed on the chest next to the cot. 

“Pumpkin?”

“Hm?” You didn’t tear your eyes away from the picture. He could see it in your eyes. You weren’t really there with him. You were in your head. Arthur let out a gentle sigh, rubbing the side of his head, and moved to kneel down in front of you. The movement caught your attention, drawing your eyes to him. 

You took in a little breath, straightening your posture as your eyes focused on him. 

“M’gonna go get some things to clean you up with. Get some of your clothes off so I can see what we gotta deal with okay?” His voice, though deep and rumbly, was sweet and gentle. “Maybe put on your little gown, okay? That way we can see everything without you bein’ so uncovered.”

You said nothing, but you kept your eyes on him, on his lips more specifically. He wasn’t sure if you were actually getting everything he was saying, or if you were still zoned out. 

“Can you do that for me, pumpkin?”

You nodded your head a little. 

He rubbed the outside of your thigh before standing up and leaving the tent. 

You watched him go and for some reason seeing him leave made your heart beat harder and faster. Tears stung your eyes and you quickly brought your hand up to wipe them away. 

The events of earlier that day flashed through your head.

It was supposed to be an easy train robbery. Dutch and Hosea had planned it out with Arthur taking the lead. You joined him with Lenny, John, Javier, and Sean. 

Everything went smoothly until another group of eight men on horses showed up with plans to rob the train themselves. And as luck would have it, you used to run with one of the men. He was anything but a nice guy and definitely not someone you wanted to run into during a heist. 

When Arthur returned to the tent, he found you sitting on the cot hunched forward with your head in your hands. You weren’t changed out of your clothes and it appeared that you were crying. 

He placed the bowl of warm water down on the chest by the cot and put the other supplies in his arms down as well. 

He knelt down in front of you, large hands wrapping around your wrists to pull your hands from your face. Your cheeks were stained with tears and your eyes were red. 

“Are you cryin’ cause I was yellin’ at ya?”

You shook your head. 

“Are you hurtin’?”

You nodded. 

“Where at, pumpkin?”

“Everywhere, Arthur.” You cried quietly. “I-I’m so-sorry.”

“Don’t start that now.” He shook his head. “Won’t do you any good to start apologizin’ while you’re upset like this. It’ll just make ya even more upset. Don’t want ya makin’ yourself sick. Now let’s get you outta these clothes.”

“I-I can’t-Arthur, I’m just-,” You couldn’t seem to form sentences even though you knew what you wanted to say. The adrenaline had worn off and you were exhausted. You just wanted to sleep, but you knew Arthur wouldn’t let you do that just yet. 

“S’alright, pumpkin. I’ll help ya.” He reached up and began to unbutton your shirt. 

You fell silent, sniffling every now and then. 

Once your shirt was unbuttoned, he carefully pulled it off of your shoulders. 

“Shit, Y/N.” Arthur cursed under his breath. With your shirt gone, the bruising on your arms and chest could now be seen. 

There were hand-shaped bruises along your upper arms and a few cuts on the back of your right forearm. Your chest had a long bruise across it too. It was an odd pattern and Arthur couldn’t figure out quite what it was. 

“I-I didn’t….” Arthur reached out to tentatively trace his fingers over the bruising on your bicep. “Did I….?”

“No.” Your voice was raspy. “That’s not from you. There was a man on the train. He caught me off guard. He’s the one who gave me a busted face.”

Arthur pressed his lips together in a firm line. You could see the anger festering behind his eyes. His large hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing across the corner of your cracked lips. You winced a little. He apologized softly. 

“What about the one on your chest?”

“There was another feller, he used a metal bar to clothes line me.”

He pulled his hand from your face, eyes lingering on the nasty bruise on your chest. 

“The second I got my footing, I put a knife between his ribs.” 

“That’s my girl.” He praised, making your heart race. 

Arthur reached around you to find the strings to your corset. With one effortless tug, the corset loosened and you took a breath. 

“I know you’re happy to be outta that.” Arthur tossed the corset to the foot of the cot. “Ya think you could stand so we can get your jeans offa ya?”

“I can stand on my right, but not my left.”

“I’ll be on your left. You lean against me. How about that?”

You nodded. Arthur stood up and helped you to your feet. You slipped an arm around his shoulders, grabbing a fistful of his jacket to brace yourself. He put an arm around you too. 

“How am I supposed to get my jeans off when I got one arm around you and you got one arm around me?” You asked him. 

He paused for a moment and you watched as he thought about it. 

“Well, I gotta hand and you gotta hand. Why don’t we use ‘em both?” He suggested. 

You giggled. 

It took some effort, but the two of you worked together to unbutton your jeans and get them down. 

Arthur nearly had a heart attack when he saw the cut on your thigh. How did he not see it before? 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

“M’fine, Arthur.”

He got you into your nightgown and then sat you back down on the bed. 

He started with the thigh wound, cleaning the dried blood and then wrapping a bandage around your leg. From there, he looked down at your ankle. A bruise had already formed and around the joint was swollen. 

He sighed out, then turned his attention to the bowl of warm water. He dipped the clean rag into the water and rung it out. His eyes flickered up to your face. He paused for a moment. 

Your nose had been bleeding but now the blood was smeared across your cheek, dried. Bruising trailed from underneath your eye down to your cheekbone where a cut was from a fist. Your lips were busted and split open. The corners of your eyes were black and blue. Your nose didn’t look broken, so that was good. 

He let out another sigh. You knew he was trying to keep his emotions at bay. 

“I…. Arthur, m’sorry.” You whispered, your voice breaking from how quiet you were. 

He shook his head. His jaw ticked as the muscle tightened. He was gritting his teeth together. 

“How could you be so stupid, Y/N? Told you to wait for Javier or John. I knew there were men coming but you didn’t listen.”

“You would’ve done the same.”

“But I wouldn’t’a been thrown from the goddamned train.”

“You don’t know that.” You mumbled under your breath. 

Arthur took hold of your chin, turning your head so you had no choice but to look at him. 

“Don’t get that way with me, pumpkin.” He started to wipe blood from under your nose. “You could’ve died today. I…. I could’ve lost ya.”

You fell silent. 

He cleaned the blood from your face, using soft, gentle brushes with the rough rag. 

“Arthur? Y/N?” Mary Beth spoke from outside of the tent.

“It’s alright, Mary Beth.” Arthur dipped the rag into the water. “You can step in.”

You looked to him then down at his chest. 

“Just wanted to bring Y/N some supper. Thought maybe she’d be hungry.” Her eyes found you and she gasped softly. “Oh, Y/N. You….” She trailed off. 

“I’m okay.” You assured her, offering her a little smile.

“Thank you, Mary Beth.” Arthur took the bowl of soup from her and placed it down on the chest by the cot. 

“Is there anything I can do for you?” She asked softly.

“Get me some fresh water in this bowl please, would ya?” Arthur asked her. 

“Of course.”

As she slipped out of the tent, Arthur returned his attention to you. 

“The man who threw me over….” You started, but trailed off, unable to finish. 

“I’m gonna find him and kill ‘em.”

“No, Arthur.” Your eyes widened as you looked up at Arthur. “Please. You-You have to promise me never-to never go after him. I’m-I’m fine. Just a little beat up is all.”

Arthur furrowed his brows together. 

“Do you…. You know that feller, don’t you?”

“Used to run with him.” You answered quietly. “He’s not someone you play with, Arthur. He’s worse than Micah.” 

Arthur sighed through his nose. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me back there that you knew him?”

“It wasn’t really high on my list when we had fellers shootin’ at us, Arthur.”

He rubbed his brow.

“I know you’re mad at me.”

“M’not mad at ya, pumpkin. Just…. I was scared that I was gonna lose you.” 

You turned your head away from him but he wouldn’t let you look away for very long. With two fingers beneath your chin, he turned your head back to him. 

“When I saw you go over the side of that train, I-I fuckin’ lost it. Nearly beat the piss outta poor Lenny ‘cause he was in my way. Couldn’t get to you fast enough.” Arthur shook his head. He brushed a tear from your cheek. “When we finally stopped the train and I found you….” He trailed off. 

“It don’t matter now, Arthur. I’m here.” You reminded him, turning your head to kiss his palm. 

“Yeah, but that’s not the point, Y/N.”

“We got dangerous lives, Arthur. You can’t protect me from everything.”

“I can damn sure try.” He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “You mean the world to me, pumpkin. Ain’t gonna let shit happen to you. Even if that means I gotta stop you from doin’ stupid shit.”

You smiled a little, leaning forward to tuck your head underneath his chin.

Taglist:  @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm  

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[rodeo-boots]

hello my dear! i was hoping if i could request some charthur! in many fics i see arthur constantly being comforted by charles, but never the other way around... so many, you could write charles returning back to camp injured/tired, and arthur has to care for him for the night? 🥺 i would love to see some trans!charles as well, but i won't ask for too much... nsfw is welcome, and as always, feel free to let your wonderful brain work its magic with any other ideas you have <3

Thank you so much for your request hny, I hope I did your idea justice <3

Rating: Teen and Up

Words: 3122

Warnings: mild gore, angst

AO3

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Beaver Hollow was a shithole. The air was humid and dense, the mood at camp even lower than the temperatures could get during the nights. Arthur positively hated it, wished they had another choice but to take camp at such a spot. Breathing was getting harder for him by the day and some nights, he rode out only to take a deep breath of fresh air in the wide open meadows elsewhere.

He much preferred being anywhere but at camp, preferred to be far far away from Dutch and Micah, from those friends of his – whatever they might be called. These days, he couldn't even exchange a proper word with Javier or Bill anymore, met with stubborn phrases of loyalty whenever he dared to cross their paths.

The only reasonable people left were getting ready to pack up and leave, and Arthur wished they had done so earlier. He wished Molly had taken that chance while she still had it, wished that John and Abigail and Jack would be long gone by now. Not much longer, and he wouldn't be able to help them anymore, would succumb to the illness nesting within his chest and die the death that's always been destined for him.

He only saw one glimpse of hope and that was Charles, Charles who's loyalty had never solely belonged to Dutch but to a life of freedom. His only reason for being here was the younger man these days, the younger man who rightfully preferred to be anywhere but here himself. He had work on his hands, had assigned himself way too many tasks at once, trying to help out the Wapiti reservation while wanting to provide for the last folks at camp here.

Arthur wished he could help him, but just like Sadie, Charles treated him as though he was already standing in the grave.

Today, Arthur was solely here to catch up with Charles, like he was most of the time. He missed him, missed the times they had once spent together in a past that had been much better than what one might dream up now. All they could do was dream at this point, though Arthur's sleep was plagued by nightmares most of the time.

He had waited an entire day, had asked Sadie just before she could ride off to town. No one knew where Charles was, and by the time Micah saw him trail around camp like a lost puppy one time too many, he took it upon himself to finally give him an explanation.

"Your sweetheart's out huntin', got a little caught up it seems." The man grinned at him with his foul, yellow teeth, Arthur rewarding him with a grunt before he turned on his heel. If that was the case, and Charles had been out for days by now, something couldn't be right. The man was the best hunter they had, the best tracker left at camp. And no one seemed to care about the prospect of having lost him.

Arthur shook Micah off his tail, climbing into the saddle of his horse without missing a beat. Even though he wasn't as talented a tracker as Charles, the man had taught him a few tricks in the past, hopefully enough to come in handy now. He departed without looking back, spurring on his stallion with his heels firmly pressed into his flanks. Arthur snapped the reins, further on edge now than he had been all day. He had a bad feeling about all of this.

It took a while until he had picked up a trail of hooves, unsure if he even could identify them accordingly. His vision swam more regularly these days, his head feeling heavy as he peered down the side of his horse. He felt like he was getting sea-sick but he pushed on nonetheless, having only one goal in mind and that goal being Charles' safety.

All the time they had known each other, they had guarded one another's back better than their own. Arthur had no problem watching out for his friend, though Charles was way more than that to him.

They had ridden out together one too many times, had shared too many stories of the past and plans of the future to consider their relationship as professional and distant as it was meant to be. Often enough, they had kept each other warm at night, had shared their secrets and their doubts, and had listened to what the other had upon his heart.

Arthur's own now beat frantically in his chest. He hadn't noticed how tears had begun to cloud his vision the further he rode. It might be the wind stinging in his eyes, but the air was perfectly still. He brushed the back of his hand over his eyes, blinked, caught his breath and pushed onward. After all the time that had passed, he couldn't be sure how far Charles might've ridden, least of all with a fast horse like Taima beneath him.

He just hoped they were okay.

Day soon shifted into night, and without a trail to follow now that his eyes were no longer of use, Arthur decided to settle down. He didn't bother setting up his tent, didn't bother with much more than a small campfire to stay warm. His nose was running within the cold but he ignored that, too, staring down at his own two feet while his arms loosely hugged his knees to his chest.

A sound from aside tore him out of his thoughts, made his head snap up and his hand instinctively drop to his gun belt. "Who's there?" He asked, rasped more accurately, coughing against the scratchiness of his throat. Maybe he really shouldn't be out here, but it was much too late to turn back around.

He pushed himself up, his bicep quivering beneath his weight, the rustling within the bushes stopping, until a figure pushed through all the way. "Arthur?" He could identify Charles' voice well enough, would never be able to forget it, cursing under his breath as he stumbled to his legs to catch him. The man had to have found him with the last of his strength, had to have followed the smoke and the scent of the campfire until he'd eventually seen him.

Arthur couldn't tell what was wrong from one glance alone, pulling Charles closer to the campfire to examine him. It was dark by now, cold, the humidity making way for temperatures that were much too cruel for most humans to endure. But Arthur knew he was going to die anyways.

"Christ– what's happened t'you?" He muttered, not even daring to ask where Taima might be now. Charles' shirt was left in pieces, torn and bloodied, scratches and what appeared like bitemarks upon his skin. "A cougar?" Arthur asked, laying his friend's head down in his lap while peering down at him with concern in his eyes. The tears were back, but he didn't acknowledge them.

"Murfrees," Charles' voice came, little more than a gust of air, meeting Arthur's cheek as he spoke. The man tried to sit himself up, pushing at Arthur's upper arm to give him space. And while Arthur backed away enough to allow him to breathe, he didn't let him put any more strain on his wounds. He hadn't gotten much of a look at them until now. "What're you doing out here, Arthur? You shouldn't–"

Arthur softly shook his head, muffling a cough with the back of his hand. "Don't talk," he muttered, grabbing for the knife on his belt to help the other man out of his shirt. "S'this okay?" He asked quietly before bringing the blade to the hem of Charles' shirt, watching him swallow until he got a small nod in reply.

His lungs rattled when he exhaled, leaning further above his friend to cut through what was left of his shirt, his breath catching at the gruesome sight of his torso. "How bad's it hurt?" he murmured, catching onto the sweat upon Charles' forehead and the strain in his eyes. He knew he had to act fast if he wanted to help him, able to see that his wounds already had started to swell and shape bruises. When his friend only hummed, his eyelids fluttering in a way that made Arthur's chest constrict painfully, he reached for his satchel right away, pulling out the last bit of alcohol he carried.

Arthur didn't wish to do anything that might make his friend uncomfortable, but he couldn't exactly ignore the deep gashes on his chest, mumbling an apology while ripping fabric off his shirt and drenching it in alcohol. "Hold still," he advised, biting down on his lower lip as he started to clean up the wounds, applying minimal pressure and stopping every time Charles stirred beneath him.

He had never seen the other man in so much pain, had never seen him as vulnerable to begin with, cursing under his breath when he didn't find a set of bandages where he had thought they'd be. "Hang on–" Arthur got to his legs, cushioning Charles' head on his rolled-up bedroll before stumbling over to his horse, his vision clouded by black and white specks.

These days, he couldn't move as swiftly as he was used to anymore, grabbing the saddle for support and gritting his teeth, his free hand slipping into his saddlebag to blindly feel around for the bandages he hoped he carried. He returned to Charles' side right away, falling to his knees in front of him, not caring for the mud that smeared his shins and knees, hands shaking as he unraveled the bandages.

"You'll be alright– jus' hold on," he kept on muttering, even though Charles' eyes had long since fallen shut, his breaths much too shallow for him to see. "It's okay, please…" he wrapped the bandages around his torso, covering all the open gashes he could find, his muscles quivering when he lifted Charles' body ever so slightly. The man was deadweight in his arms, Arthur's lip trembling while his throat grew tighter, swallowing down a sob when he laid the other man down again.

Arthur took off his jacket, covering Charles as well as he could before taking his hands off of him entirely. "Charles? Charles… are you with me?" He couldn't stop himself from reaching out, cupping the man's cheek in his hand, his features peaceful, though that wouldn't calm Arthur just now. His skin looked much too pale, what he could see of it through the illumination of the campfire light at least, running his thumb over his chin as his eyes stayed on the other man.

"Don't you give up on me now," he whispered, his eyes glazing over further. "I– I need you, Charles." And while he knew that the other man was unable to hear him, Arthur couldn't stop talking, the panic within his chest spiking the longer he didn't get a response. "I promised you I'd get you out of here– that we'll run away, make a life for ourselves out West." His breath rattled, a sob leaving his chest after all. Arthur dropped his head to Charles' shoulder, his hands holding onto the man's upper arms.

He tried to calm his breathing, hot tears streaming down his cheeks to seep into the jacket he had covered the other man with. "You can do it– you have to," he mumbled, his voice barely audible through the tightness of his throat. "I still— I still haven't told you I love you." His shoulders shook, keeping his face buried within Charles' shoulder as he stayed hunched over, not caring for how hard it was to breathe like this.

*

The night had grown darker and colder around them, merely sounds of nature audible after Arthur had passed out from exhaustion. His hand held Charles' in a loose grasp, body curled up by the other man's side to offer him more warmth. The tears had left salty traces upon Arthur's cheeks, his lashes sticking together though he had no strength to open his eyes either way.

Maybe he'd die out here, with Charles by his side, wishing and praying the man hadn't passed away already. Arthur couldn't bear the thought that he might still be breathing while his friend wasn't, the worth of his own life much less than what Charles had amounted to by now. He had only ever wished for his friends and family to be safe, for his loved ones to escape this cruel and harsh life, but it seemed there was no escape. For even when Dutch wasn't involved, people got hurt.

Arthur didn't feel how the other man's fingers moved within his grasp, how Charles squeezed his hand tighter and stirred by his side. He was far gone by now, captured by a deep sleep he hasn't had any way to fight.

It only was with a tightening hold on his shoulder that he eventually woke, turning his head away as he rasped out one cough after another into the crook of his elbow. "Arthur." Charles' voice sounded faint, like it came from far away, even if the man laid right by his side. Arthur turned again, heaving his breaths as he rolled onto his back, his gaze meeting that of the man next to him.

He swallowed thickly, knowing that his eyes had to be reddened and puffy, not only from his illness but because of the crying he had done previously. "You look… horrible," Charles whispered, letting go of his shoulder to reach down and take his hand again. His fingers were clammy, but undeniably alive where they held onto Arthur's.

"I was always ugly," Arthur responded, wheezing out a laugh that turned into another cough before he knew it. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, relief encompassing his expression, though he knew that there was no reason to believe that the worst was overcome just now. "Let's get you home," he muttered, weakly whistling for his horse that had to be somewhere nearby. They had to leave this place, get Charles back to camp to try and stitch him up, hoping that they still had the supplies to do so.

Charles held onto him, not letting go even as Arthur tried to stand, softly shaking his head when he turned to look back down at him. "Leave me," he said. "I'll only be baggage to carry–"

But Arthur wouldn't hear that. "I ain't rode out here to abandon you," he grunted, gathering Charles in his arms as well as he could, his horse already waiting by their side. "We'll get you to camp, get you back on your feet and fix this." It was hard to maneuver Charles onto his horse, the man barely able to keep himself on his own two legs. He managed, anyhow, stubbornly bringing his own body into the saddle behind the man to make sure he wouldn't fall.

"We– we don't got supplies at camp. Don't make it hard on yourself, you can't… safe everyone." Charles' head lolled back against his chest, Arthur dearly trying not to listen to the words he had spoken in an attempt to stay composed.

"Then I'll bring you to the reservation, Rains Fall will—"

"I'm not gonna take anythin' away from them." Arthur snapped the reins, pushing his heels against the flanks of his horse to get the stallion going.

He stayed quiet, brows furrowed while he concentrated on the path ahead, leading his horse through the trees as fast as he could. "I'll get you to a doctor then… just hold on." Charles didn't raise his voice again, so Arthur focused on riding for now, unwilling to face the thought of leaving his friend anywhere to die.

*

They arrived in Annesburg before the sun had crept too high up in the sky, Arthur stopping a man on the streets to ask for directions to the nearest doctor's office. He had slung an arm around Charles' middle to try and keep him from falling off his horse, the man seemingly passed out once again.

Urgently, Arthur followed the directions he had been given, yelling for someone to come help him once he had found the building that had been pointed out to him. From there on out, everything happened much too fast. There were hands helping him off the horse, hands that pulled Charles from his grasp before he could do or say anything. He only saw how the other man was led away from him before he collapsed on the wooden porch to the building, waving people away that tried to pull him back to his feet.

*

Arthur woke in a bed with clean white sheets. The room was lit by sunlight, smelling of disinfectant and cleanliness. He stirred, his head pounding nastily when he tried to sit up upon the mattress. His first thoughts belonged to Charles, though he didn't need to search for long until he saw the other occupied bed within the room, grunting as he swung his legs over the edge to stand.

With uncertain steps, he made his way over to the other man, his clothes different from before, white and clean, feeling like nothing he had ever worn in his life. Arthur sat himself down on the chair by Charles' side, able to see that his clothes had been changed, too, the visible bandages around him clean.

He reached over, taking one of the hands the man had rested upon his stomach. His motion seemed enough to rouse him, Charles' eyes blinking open slowly, the dark orbs meeting Arthur's own soon enough.

"You okay?" Charles asked, his voice heavy from disuse.

Arthur stared down at him, shaking his head in disbelief before bringing the man's hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. "You's the one who nearly died, and you're askin' me if I'm fine." The corners of Charles' mouth lifted ever so slightly, Arthur releasing a light sigh. It was a relieved sound, fueled by his belief that now everything would turn out to be okay.

"What you said to me before, in the forest. Did you mean that?"

Arthur had to think for a moment, not having expected Charles to have heard any of his words at the time, nor for him to remember now. He nodded, kissing the back of Charles' hand once again. "Every word," he whispered, not embarrassed on behalf of what had left his mouth in a moment of desperation.

"Good." Another brief smile passed over Charles' features. "Because I do, too. And I want to keep living." He disentangled his fingers from Arthur's, reaching up to gently grasp his jaw. "With you."

[creacherkeeper]

lol hey fh pr au anon again, and like really thinking about the cases where one of the kids have to pilot the jaeger alone bc their co pilot is down for whatever reason. like the strain it must put on their mind. adaine doing it once in the final fight w aelwyn and getting grey hairs. riz doing it not once but TWICE (the wicklaw fight and the final fight) and having issues with controlling his nervous system. truly this au is sooo good ngl i kinda imagine it as 90% pacific rim and 10% eva just because of how these kaiju sound sooooo horrifying (in the best way)

i think in this au the people who've solo piloted are:

arthur aguefort

i think no one knows who aguefort's co-pilot was, except for ayda and the original pilots, but in my head it was his wife/partner. ayda's mom. i think that's why ayda doesn't talk about it, is because she's bitter that being a pilot took both her mother away from her at a young age, and the emotional and physical trauma of having his partner die while in the drift made her father a very absent man. i think the specific effect it had on him was that it mimicked/triggered early onset dementia. while he was still able to head the program, it was with the help of pok, for a while, then sandra lynn. he tended to not always stay grounded in what was happening and get "unstuck in time", mentally. the bad kids have never really seen him act different than the highly eccentric man they know, but i think sandra lynn and ayda have a really good talk about it after everything is over. he has a close relationship with kristen since she's the one that handles his care and meds and she never treats him with kid gloves

riz

riz solo pilots during the flayer fight. flayer rips straight through the cockpit, detaching fabian from his spinal clamp as well as incredibly damaging his eye. its enough to make him go into shock. riz not only finishes the fight, but has to crawl the jaeger back home, with half the cockpit torn out and fabian dangling out the side, tangled in the wiring. fabian was connected just enough that riz could see the ground swinging below him like an afterimage. afterwards, fabian doesn't really remember a lot of what happened, but riz does. he's the one that gets weird about heights after that. and by "weird" i mean that his body starts to feel shock-like symptoms whenever he looks out a tall window. like an afterimage. the only reason anyone lets them back in a jaeger is because the world might end if they dont

fabian

kalvaxus grabs the gilded spyglass and drops it from a mile up. the ground rushing towards them and the sheer force of wind through the cracked hull is enough to steal riz's breath straight from his lungs. he's not even conscious to put on the oxygen mask. within the span of two fights, fabian goes from seeing out of four eyes to just one. with a combination of burning all their thruster fuel and wedging their sword in the tower of a bridge, he manages to stop them from being completely destroyed when they hit the water. the whole time, in the back of his mind, he feels riz dreaming about pok. solo piloting, and piloting with one eye, completely fries fabian's proprioceptive sense. he does a lot of music therapy, after. dancing. that's how he relearns it. learns to keep his feet under him again, where all his limbs go, how close everything is. it never goes anywhere, no matter how hard they tease adaine about it, but aelwyn is his partner for a lot of these classes. it takes a very long time for fabian to feel just in his body again, and not constantly take into account both riz and their jaeger. in the drift, he sees in 3d. he has to get used to everything going flat

aelwyn

during the final fight, adaine chases the rabbit. their cockpit fills with water. she chokes. not literally, but that's what she was seeing. the thing about the drift is that whats in your head is just as real as anything else. so when kalvaxus takes a massive claw and holds them under the ocean, and the oxygen warning starts flashing, adaine just goes. aelwyn sees their fight with mother and father, can feel the storm oracle begin to flood in their shared neural link. she's angry. and she knows adaine can feel it. she knows it's only making things worse. when adaine starts to see mother and father - not the kaiju, but their real, human, somehow far more terrifying parents - aelwyn knows the tougher fight is not kalvaxus, not kalina or nightmare, but getting adaine back from this. the anger fades. something else takes its place. protection. just pure, unfiltered protective instinct. and she fights. she fights with one half of her mind in their childhood and one half at the end of the world. she calls the play with kalvaxus. she blasts nightmare with a jet of coolant. and the whole time, she talks. she talks to adaine. reminds her where they are, what they're doing, who they're with. she manages to get adaine back just in time for both of them to blast nightmare with a plasma cannon, right into moonlit werewolf's arms. afterwards, they sit on the demolished bridge, waiting for kristen to come back up. and she holds adaine. she holds on tight. the consequences come in aches and pains that never really go away. in weak muscles and shaky steps. nerve damage. some problem with her brain stem. she pours all her learning into prosthetics and tries not to think about it too much. its easier to be distracted

kristen

kristen doesn't really talk about what happened, after she ejected tracker from the moonlit werewolf and went through the breach by herself. she'll laugh about it. oh, it was crazy shit, man. you wouldn't even believe. but she never really explains. she was conscious for enough of it that she managed to blow the nuclear reactor and bring the whole breach down while her pod ejected and flew through back to their ocean. they don't know when the fragmented horn of nightmare pierced her chest. how long she stayed awake afterwards. they try to talk to her. crazy shit, she'll say, and that's all. only sometimes it's like she just disappears. goes glassy in the eyes and stares for a long time, like she's somewhere very far away. they don't know if the dissociation is physical or mental, because she won't get checked out. ptsd, jawbone says. seizures, says ayda. the ironic part is that kristen herself is usually the person they would go to to find out. crazy shit, man, she says. crazy shit

[artmakerproductions]

Old, high school short story literature project, 2017

An alternate version of the previous story. This one acting as a pseudo spin-off of Sir Arthur Conan Doyale’s The Lost World. Can also be read here: https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/Return-Of-The-Tyrant-King-short-story-2017-822394953

.......

RETURN OF THE TYRANT KING

BY CAMERON JIM

~ Chapter One ~

Introduction

London, England - 1912. The night sky was hidden away by the storm clouds above. Thunder rumbled as lightning lit up the night in many brief flashes of light. It was 11:59, when Big Ben, by the River Thames, chimed. It was now midnight. It echoed across all of London. The streets, foggy and damp, were empty. A tugboat could be heard blowing its foghorn. Trumpeting across all of London for all to hear. The street posts illuminated sections of the street, with brief, dark areas in between, before the next street post. Then, there was footsteps. Click, clack, click, clack, click - it was a lonely officer on his rounds. He wandered down the streets; with only a nightstick as a means of a weapon. Lost in his thoughts, he failed to see that someone - or rather, something was following him. Creeping through the dark shadows. Then, an uneasy feeling came over the constable, as he turned around and saw something vanish out of his sight. He knew someone was following him. He spoke in a rather thick English accent.

“Who’s there?” No answer. He, without a single worry in his head, walked over to the source of the sound. He raised his nightstick up high; as a warning.

“As an officer, I have the power to use this nightstick, if you continue to joke around.” He stood his ground. Still, no answer. He lowered his nightstick and continued on. All was fine. As the officer was minding his own business, he heard what sounded like the scream of a… of a… He didn’t know what it was. It wasn’t human, nor sounded like any animal he ever heard before. It was a loud shriek, it was so close, it hurt his ears. Then, followed by a irritating ringing. Everything went quiet. All this in one swift moment. He darted around to face whatever made that horrible noise - when he was tackled from behind. He fell forward, landing on his chest. It knocked the wind right out of him. He blew his whistle repeatedly. Then, something sharp dung into the back of his neck. He felt the flesh on his neck tear apart as it sunk deeper. He screamed in pain as well, as terror. With a loud CRACK and CRUNCH! - he was dead. His limp body lied on the cement street. The officer’s mouth hung open, in a gaping, frozen expression of terror. Blood drizzled from his neck, mouth and nose. The attacker lowered its head - and snorted. It was an animal. An animal from some other world - or rather, some other time.

A long while later, nearly three in the morning, another officer was walking down the same empty street. He soon came across the dead body of the officer. It was a bloody mess of torn clothing and disembodied limbs. His body was covered in deep cuts revealing some muscle and bone underneath. Large chunks of his flesh were missing; revealing muscle tissue, fragmented skin, and blood stained bones underneath. His abdominal area was hollowed out, leaving nothing inside. The officer could see his ribcage. The dead man’s face was unrecognizable. The man’s gums were gones. Creating a chilling, toothy grin. His eyes bulging out, in a forever shocked expression. His cheekbones could be seen too. The officer nearly passed out from the horrible sight. He blew his whistle madly, calling out to other officers in the area. 

Feathered Dinosaurs

Perri Beauregarde, was an independent scientist. He was an oddball to say the least, as the scientific community had disregarded many of his contributions. A while back, he had a theory about dinosaurs. He hypothesized that dinosaurs were active; rather than sluggish, and some could be as smart as crows, as well as other avians. Beauregarde had published a paper about these various claims, but no one really took it seriously. His reputation as a scientist dwindled into nothing.

That was 5 years ago. Now, no one has really heard from him since. Some think he’s dead. Others think he left the country altogether. Earlier that day, Ronald Harr, a low voiced, 40 year old englishman with some signs of greying in his golden-brown hair. He wore a dark brown sack suit with a matching bowler hat, a white dress shirt underneath, with a red necktie. His spat boots clicked and clacked against the solid ground. Ronald was the curator of the British Museum (now called Natural History Museum) in London, was called over by Beauregarde’s maid that he requested his presence. It was now approaching 11 am. He soon arrived at Mr. Beauregarde’s residence. The building was grand, and was various shades of greys and whites. A large stained glass window was placed on what seemed was the 2nd floor. It had a perfect view of the River Thames and of the city across the way. He reached the front doors, and knocked. There was silence. The maid, Ann Grace, answered.

“Yes?” She said.

“Hello, I am here to see Mr. Beauregarde. Is he here?” Then, another voice called out. It reverberated around the main hall.

“Good day Mr. Harr.” It was the elusive Perri Beauregarde himself. Ann shuffled out of the way as she opened the door wide open. Ronald stepped forward.

“Good day.” He paused.

“Glad you could make it.” Beauregarde spoke. Perri Beauregarde was at the age of 29, but seemed rather tired for someone his age. He held a black cane with the top end painted gold. He had a noticeable limp in his walk. He had rather messy jet black hair. He had narrow, rather thin rimmed, half moon shaped-glasses placed upon his nose. He worn blue gloves to match his waistcoat and white dress shirt underneath, that were loose and flowy at the ends, reaching his wrist. He had a rather awkward, somewhat tired smile on his face as he approached.

“As you probably guessed by now, I’m Mr. Beauregarde. Pleased to meet you.” He shook Ronald’s hand excitedly. There was another man there. He was much older with a bush mustache, round spectacles, and a clever twinkle in his eye. From the way he was dressed, Ronald assumed he was a scientist. This is Professor Samuel Norman.

“Good evening, Mr. Harr. I too am here to see Beauregarde’s discovery.”

“Discovery? What discovery?” Ronald said.

“Oh right, of course. This way gentlemen.” He lead the two men into another room. His study. It was filled with many strange, and foreign items. There they saw it. The skeleton of Tyrannosaurus Rex. Something seemed rather off. It’s position placement. It was bending forward, with its head cocked upward - like a bird. Ronald just stared at those terrifying jaws; it seemed to have a toothy grin. The animal must’ve been truly horrifying to see alive.

“Professor Norman, Mr. Harr. I present to you Tyrannosaurus Rex! Now, new and improved.” Norman was bewildered by its new stance. Ronald wasn’t impressed.

“My boy, this is… this is most peculiar.”

“Is… is this all?” He spoke in a cold, deadpan tone. Perri Beauregarde walked over to the skeleton. His back turned to the two men.

“I am here to inform you that the skeletal remains of the these dinosaurs in your museum are incorrect. As well as the information.”

“Excuse me?” Ronald said.

“I have spent that last five years trying to prove my theories aren’t merely speculation. But fact! Earlier this year, I travelled over to China and found, what I originally thought was some kind of prehistoric ancestor to birds. But it wasn’t. It was in fact a dinosaur.” He paused. After a moment, he reached for an object with a grey cloak placed on top. He pulled it off to reveal a slab of rock. In his gloved hand, was a large piece of stone. Trapped within was the arm of a three fingered animal with fossilized feathers. Whatever it was, was indeed a bird-like animal.

“Marvelous.” Said Professor Norman, inspecting the rock.

“I now have the proof to confirm my theories. That is why I brought you here Professor. To document these new findings of mine and you; Mr. Harr, to update your museum for the public. And to show the world of my discovery.” He paused, “Gentlemen. Dinosaurs weren’t big dumb reptiles with no emotion. They were active, intelligent creatures!” Ronald just stared at the man, puzzled. Confused. Birds? Dinosaurs? Preposterous! Professor Norman took the slab of rock and continued to examine it. He was amazed.

“Mr. Beauregarde, I have no interest in this. Good day.” He turned around to leave.

“Wait!” He reached out to Ronald, nearly tripping over, and was saved by his cane. He regained his balance. He reached out and grabbed his left shoulder. Ronald only turned his head to face Beauregarde.

“I will not allow you to spoil the public's view of dinosaurs with this… nonsense! Good day, Mr. Beauregarde.” Before Ronald could leave, the two heard a loud SMASH followed by a THUMP from behind. It was Professor Norman. He collapsed onto the ground. Ronald was the first to reach him. Beauregarde got onto his knees, glancing at the destroyed pieces of rock, then towards the silent professor. He shook the man’s shoulders, shouting.

“Professor! Professor are you alright? Answer me!” Ronald placed his ear to the man’s chest. No heartbeat. He was dead. Ronald got up and made a dash from the door. He could be heard running down the short hallway, and out the front door. Beauregarde stayed.

“Ann! Call the paramedics!.”

The authorities had arrived, and whisked the body away. The official diagnosis was that he had died of a heart attack. Ronald and Beauregarde weren’t given any form of charges. With his only pieces of evidence now gone, he had spent the remainder of the day in his study. With the professor dead, and Ronald not wanting to say he saw anything, he had no witnesses to back his findings.

“Mr. Beauregarde? Are you alright?” Ann cooed from the door, peeking in from the hallway.

“No, no I’m not. I’ll be leaving shortly. You may leave an hour after my departure.”

“Yes sir, thank you.”

~ Chapter Two ~

Old News

Beauregarde walked down the crowded streets of London. It was getting dark, and the shops started to close up for the night. He heard many folks say their farewells to one another. As he walked past a ramshackle newsstand, he saw in bold letters: “OFFICER FOUND DEAD”. He lowered himself and grabbed the folded up newspaper. He read it out in his thoughts,

“Officer George O’brien was found dead three nights ago. His body was violently and horribly mangled. This marks the 20th murder victim since February. Locals believe this to be the work of either a Jack the Ripper impersonator, while others believe it’s the work of a wild animal. After inspection of the local zoos of the area, all the animals have been accounted for. Authorities have yet to find any evidence to point towards who has been doing these horrible crimes.” Beauregarde turned to the next page. Again, he read it in his thoughts.

“Titanic, the unsinkable ship, Sinks! Collides with iceberg on maiden voyage. 1,800 lives have been reported lost. 675 survivors.” He paused.

“The unsinkable ship meets its end at sea. How tragically ironic.”

Then, from the heavens above, a flash of lightning lit up the world for a brief moment, followed by a booming thunderclap. Beauregarde dropped the newspaper and returned home. The streets were soon empty again.

A Trip To The Zoo

One month has passed, and there have been two more deaths. The culprits haven’t been caught yet. Now, a curfew has been placed that everyone must be indoors by 7 p.m. or be charged with suspicious activities.

Beauregarde was out for an early stroll, but when he returned home, the telephone rang. RIIIIIIING! He dashed over as quickly as he could to it and raised it to his face. It stopped the ringing.

“Hello? Who is this?” He said.

There was a pause. Beauregarde spoke again.

“Oh, hello Mary. Yes it has been a while” There was another pause.

“Oh, I suppose so.” Another pause. Another response.

“Of course. I’d be willing to go to the zoo with-” He was cut off. They hung up on him. “Hello? Mary?” He put the phone down. “Hmm, how odd of her.”

Mary Wilson was a wealthy, upper class woman. She was rather timid. Mary was 30 years old, and looked like she was still in her early 20s. She had dimples upon her rosy pale cheeks, and bright orange-red hair that covered her ears. She wore a velvet red coat with white dress shirt underneath. Long white kid leather gloves, that were hidden under her the sleeves of her coat. The sleeve-ends were lined with black-stained fur. She was on her way to the zoo, as she had been many times before.

The carriage stopped. They were outside of Beauregarde’s home. She had a strong attraction to the man. At first, she didn’t know why she felt so attracted to the reclusive scientist. Perhaps it was his intelligence? Or his charisma to his work? Or, his mysteriousness? Whatever the reason, she had feelings for him.

She’d spend her time at the zoo, drawing the various animals there. Including: lions, polar bears, elephants, rhinos, exotic birds, tigers, and many more. Today was different. Mary had a surprise for Perri, at the zoo. He sat on the opposite side of the coach of Mary. He seemed rather disinterested in their weekly Sunday evening together. At certain times, she wondered what was going on inside of his head.

The clip-clap of the horse’s hooves; though loud, had a rhythmic tune to it.  Mary gazed out the coach window. Seeing other folks in their evening attire, strolling around. They soon reached their destination, the zoo.

The two strolled around, observing the wildlife there. Mary, was aimlessly rambling on about the beauty of nature, and how she wished to see more of it, with Perri remaining silent. It wasn’t until they reached the far side of the zoo, when Beauregarde finally spoke.

“Mary, why is it that those who seek to question common knowledge are ridiculed for it?” He said. Before Mary could answer, the speakers crackled as a man’s voice spoke.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls. The opening of the zoo’s new addition: “Animals of the Lost World”, will open shortly. Be on your way there now.”

Mary eagerly dragged Beauregarde along, nearly making him lose balance and drop his cane.

“Mary! Slow down. You’re more riled up than a puppy!” Soon, they made their way to the new area. A large group of people had already gathered there already. The adults were all dressed up, with their children either happily holding onto their zoo-themed balloons or jumping up and down with excitement. It was like the gathering of a street parade. Near the front, was a section for the many other scientists; some of which Beauregarde knew. The audience was jittery with anticipation.

A man, older than 50 years, and in a game hunter safari uniform, stepped onto the small stage. The audience roared with applause.

“Thank you, thank you. Ladies and gentlemen, today I give you - the most astounding, most spectacular sight you’ll ever beheld. These animals originated from the deepest, most remote jungles of South America. Where I have spent the last three years, searching. Now, for your eyes are to be the first to see these beasts, alive.” He paused. A grin widened under his mustache.

“Be warned, as the sight of these monstrosities may cripple your faint hearts.” As he spoke, some of the ladies in the crowd huddle closer to their man. The audience was quiet with anticipation. “For behind this curtain, is the most fearsome predator to ever walk the earth. I give you, the tyrant lizard king himself - Tyrannosaurus Rex!”

~ Chapter Three ~

Return of the Tyrant King

As the red curtains dropped, the audience gasped with horror and amazement. For there stood the king of the dinosaurs, Tyrannosaurus Rex. The muscular animal was lean, and had pebbly leather skin. It’s scales didn’t overlap. The animal seemed rather topheavy. The animal was dull shade of yellow, like a lion. Its back, neck and top half of its body was covered in dark brown plumage. Leaving the legs, underbelly throat, face and tail bare. The animal’s teeth weren’t visible as they were hidden under its fleshy “lips”. The tyrannosaurus had forward facing eyes, much like modern predatory birds of today. They swiveled around in its socket. Looking at the strange beings on the other side of its confinement. It had two little narrow “plates” near its temples. It was truly an imposing animal.

It just stood there motionless, as the audience roared with applause. There stood the tyrannosaur. Then, another T. rex came into view. Its mate. The 2nd tyrannosaur was the same shade of yellow, but its own feathers were a lighter gold-brown. This one was female. The male was slightly bigger compared to the female.

The tyrannosaurs didn’t do much, but they just stared down at the audience. The audience after a moment, was dead quiet. The female walked closer to the metal bars that stuck up 40 feet from the ground, with the tyrannosaurs standing over 20-30 feet. Its snout barely squeezed a few inches through the gap. This caused much alarm from the audience.

“Don’t worry folks. It's much too big to fit. We’ve spent the last few months to make sure these animals don’t escape.” Ed said.

The female pulled its head back and wandered away to the far end of its enclosure. The male tyrannosaurus remained in the same spot. Then, it slowly reared up, with its head facing the sky. The audience leaned forward wondering; if it was to demonstrate its monstrous roar. As it reared up, it opened it’s jaws and - nothing. It merely yawned. The large bipedal animal turned away and left to the farther side of its large enclosure with its mate. There was a large pool of water  where the two rested. One of them bobbed its head into the water, snout deep, and rose up its head. Letting the water fall down its throat. People swarmed to see these amazing animals, though their disappointment in their appearance and rather “tame” behaviour could be seen in their faces.

Beauregarde couldn’t believe his eyes. Standing before him was living proof of his theories. The other scientist huddled around the enclosures, staring wide-eyed and gaping at these animals. They were nothing like they thought.

The new area had other prehistoric wildlife as well. There was a single triceratops. The animal was built like a living tank. It was covered in bumps and non-overlapping scaly skin. It’s body completely black; except for the crest and upper face region which was bright red-orange. A black-outlined red strip leading from its nasal area, straight up to the crest. Two speckled red sacs on its nose that inflated ever-so slightly with each breath it took. Each tip of the three human-sized horns was painted black. The animal was stood over three metres at the shoulders. Its size nearly matched that of the tyrannosaur. Despite being male, it's colouration seemed rather faded. The lazy animal rested often. It was a very old triceratops. In another pen, right next to the tyrannosaurus, was a flock of large bipedal hawk-like dinosaurs (Dakotaraptor) with sickle shaped index toes. The forearms of these hawk-dinos were folded out, and covered in feathers. Its spoon-shaped feathered tail was over half of the animal’s body length. There were seven in total. Inside its maw was rows of ridged teeth; meant for tearing flesh. Its coloration was like that of an Osprey. The feathers curved slightly at the back of their necks. Their yellow, beady bird-like eyes had a constant angry look to them. The animals had a large dead tree in the centre of their enclosure. Some of them rested on the branches, again, much like their modern counterparts.

“Raptors.” Beauregarde said.

It was getting late, and the zoo was closing for the night. Mary had told Beauregarde about how she and her father had funded Ed James’s exposition which is what she meant by surprise.  

Beauregarde chatted with Ed James about the animals. He asked about their behavior and intelligence. While they talked, Mary had spent her time drawing the living dinosaurs. Spending those hours observing them herself, and she didn’t see them as the horrid monsters they were portrayed as, but rather simple animals.

Beauregarde requested permission to stay a few hours after the zoo’s closing. He wanted to observe the animals more thoroughly and take notes. He wanted to see how much of his theories were true, and how off they were.

Spending those extra hours there, he noticed that one particular raptor, possibly female, was sitting by itself in the far corner. Almost out of sight. When he decided to get a better look, another raptor wandered over. It started to show off its plumage and perform a small “dance”. He found this quite amusing. Afterwards, Beauregarde packed his things and went home for the night.

Escape

The zoo was empty of human life. A dense fog creeped along the earth’s surface, the night sky was filled with shining stars. In the raptor enclosure, one of the clever beasts was on the edge of the highest branch of the dead tree. The animal was testing out the strength of the branch by bobbing up and down. It looked over at the distance between it, and the 20 foot high arched metal fencing. The tree barely stood over 25 feet high, and was over 30 feet away. The other raptors watched. With one mighty leap, the animal rose up 6 higher feet into the air, spreading its “wings” out, flapping them to allow it to maneuver itself. It couldn’t fly, but that didn’t stop it. It landed on the fence with a loud THUD. Its claws scratched against the metal as it kept its balance. It made it.

Of course, the animal knew it could, why it had been doing this for the past few months since it arrived in the strange, unfamiliar world of humans. It hopped down to the cement ground - landing in the tyrannosaur enclosure. The two larger animals hissed at the intruder, but did not attack. The raptor knew to kept its distance. It squeezed through the wider spaced metal bars no problem. It ran back over to its own pen, as two other raptors followed suit. In the far back, the female raptor, stood up finally - revealing a small clutch of raptor chicks underneath; 4 in total. They were lighter in colour than the adults, and had little to no traces of downy feathers upon their body. They stood over 12 inches high. The mother nudged them over to the fencing. The chicks squeezed through their own enclosure easily. The adult cooed to the female; its mate. The raptor looked down and squawked to the chicks. It was time to go.

With nothing standing in their way, the animals darted off into the night to hunt, and would return before morn’ with the humans being none the wiser.

Technical Difficulties

There were three more attacks late that previous night. With the public now aware that dinosaurs were in London, the authorities came over to question Ed James. After inspecting the dinosaur’s enclosures, they found claw scratches on the top of the fencing and that there was a clutch of raptor chicks concealed by a female. Ed was to be arrested but he fled the zoo before they could.

Beauregarde watched the two tyrannosaurs eat their afternoon meal: four pig carcasses. They pressed their ostrich-like feet against the pig and teared of strips of meat off the dead animal. Choking it down like how a bird of prey would: whole. They wiped their bloody snouts in the pool and proceeded to clean themselves by rubbing their snouts against their clawed feet and nibbled on their short feather coats. Most likely to relieve themselves of an itch. The female tyrannosaur seemed rather agitated. The big animal scratched at the flat cement ground. Chipping off little bits of rubble. It seemed puzzled that it was making any progress with digging into the earth beneath it. Then, the male tried to help dig down as well. Again, they were puzzled.

“What are they doing?” He thought, “Why is the female acting so screwy?” Then, he realized something. The female was trying to built a nest.

“Of course, it's pregnant!” He thought. He had read a book on the nesting behaviors of various birds. This was similar behavior that was observed in ostriches. That got him thinking. Did tyrannosaurs share their nests with other tyrannosaurs in the same way as ostriches? Of course, he didn’t know the true answer. In fact, no one really knew the answer as these animals have never been studied before. At the time, we only had bones to go by. One couldn’t tell the behavior or physical appearance simply by bones. But now, the animals stood before them. The intelligence of these animals were greatly underestimated as it was now discovered that they had been using the dead tree in their enclosure to jump over the fencing. It was remarkable.

At the same time, a couple of drunks had snuck past the zoo security and were now in the main building that connected to all the dinosaur enclosures. The old triceratops was in the back resting rather peacefully. Until some drunks arrived.

“Hey stupid!” Said one of the drunks.

“Wake up! Do something.” Said another. The triceratops ignored them. One of them finished their bottle and tossed straight at the animal's head. The animal was startled. It shot right up and let it’s speckled nose sacs inflated and the animal whistled like an elk. The drunks laughed.

“Oh look, ol’ stupid decided to get up finally.” One of them howled. The old triceratops vision was poor. It blindly charged at the noise, like a bull. It rammed into the metal-barred gate The drunks backed off and howled an even louder laugh.

“Missed us!” Said the same drunk who threw the bottle. The animal’s two metre long horns had gotten lodged in between the gaps in the gate. It let out another whistle in frustration. It’s crest rushed with blood, causing the large blue spot to brighten. It changed into a frightening dark orange-red. They laughed again.

Beauregarde heard a loud metal CLANG elsewhere in the zoo. It was heard by the other animals too. Then, there was a bone chilling scream.

The triceratops was free. It had broke the lock holding the gate closed when it had charged at the drunks. The old, senile animal was free. It had severely injured one of the drunks. The triceratops’ horn had pierce the shoulder of the drunk who threw the bottle. His shoulder was bleeding a severe amount of blood. The others had gotten away. The bleeding man backed up into another gate. Now cornered, the triceratops charged forward. The man’s blood covered arm was grabbed by the jaws of the T. rex. It’s snout squeezed through the open gap between the metal bars and dragged the helpless man in, involuntarily saving him from the horns of the triceratops. The tyrannosaurs’ teeth dug deep into his flesh,  crushing the bones with little effort. He screamed. 

~ Chapter Four ~

Cretaceous Chaos

The people who had come to watch the tyrannosaurs were horrified to see that someone was in the enclosure with the meat-eaters. Children screamed and cried at the horrible sight. They were whisked away by the terrified adults. The female dropped the still alive man. His leg was bent in such a way, it broke. The man stared at his twisted out of shape leg. Now he was truly helpless. The female pressed its enormous foot down atop its prey item. Increasing the pain. It lowered its large head, jaws wide open, and - CHOMP!

Animal control soon arrived with firearms. The raptors, amongst the chaos, had escaped. 4 of the  7 were shot with the rest escaping into London. The tyrannosaurs had also escaped thanks to the triceratops’ blind rampage.

The triceratops went crazy. Killing and severely injuring many people. Animal control had to use an elephant gun to take down the rampaging senile animal. Beauregarde had managed to stay alive and not get trampled by either the dinosaurs or the fleeing public. The tyrannosaurs wandered onto the streets of London.

Tyrant King’s Rampage

The male acted as a bodyguard for the female. Snapping at the fleeing civilians. They weren’t interested in food. They were migrating to a better place to lay their eggs. The army created a road block farther ahead of the two carnivores. When they made their way around the corner, they opened fire. The female’s side and thigh area was blasted with the oncoming bullets. It howled a deafening shriek. The two managed to escape down an alleyway. There was a trail of blood left behind.

Night-time had arrived. All of London was in utter panic. The streets were left empty. The tyrannosaurs now wandered the streets in search of food. A massive storm had arrived. Rain pelted the earth below. Trenching everything that was in the open. Mary didn’t mind. She thought it was rather relaxing. Her coachmen didn’t think so. The old timer found it inconvenient and unpleasant. Mary was on her way to the opera. She sat safely inside the carriage, unaware of the escaped dinosaurs. As they travelled down the empty street the horse sensed something. It was out of sight, but it could sense the presence of a predator. The animal backed away. Then it reared up, nearly toppling over.

“What’s the matter ol’ boy?” The coachmen said.

From the dark, the male tyrannosaur charged forward with its mouth wide open. It bite down on the horse’s neck. Crushing it. The horse wheezed in agony as it slowly died in the maw of the tyrannosaur.

“Goodness gracious!” He shouted. The coachmen horrified. Jumped down and fled the opposite direction. Abandoning Mary. Only to be met with the female. His scream was cut off as the animal snatched him up into the air and tossed him around like a ragdoll. Killing him. The animal lowered its head down with its prey hanging from its maw. It held it down with its foot and tore the man in two. Swallowing each half whole. Mary was horrified to see the two out of their enclosures. The male pressed it’s bloody snout on the carriage windows opposite of Mary. It's hot breath fogged up the glass as it breathed. The female was right next to Mary. It stared into the strange item. Was it prey? Or another predator? The animal stared inside of the carriage. It saw something moving inside. The male raised its head up out of view. It nudged the roof. The whole carriage shook. Mary was in tears now. The female saw her. It pressed its nose against the window to get her, but was puzzled.

“The glass!” She thought, “It can’t get me. I’m safe inside.” The puzzled animal koo’d to its mate. They chirped and croaked to each other. They were talking. The two got onto the same side of the carriage. And pushed it over. Mary was tossed up and was slammed down onto the ground with a THUD, with the wind being knocked out of her. The side door was wide open. Rain poured down onto the semi-unconscious Mary. When she finally came to, the male tyrannosaur had its snout through the door. It snapped around. It was searching for her.

“I’m going to die” She whimpered. Then, the tyrannosaur stopped. It couldn’t reach her. The animal saw no point in trying to get her, and proceeded to retracted its head out of the door and left. The female followed. Mary was in shock. She passed out.

Man’s Comeuppance, Assessing The Damage

London was choked with an unknown illness. Hundreds of people were dying everyday. None of the vaccines cooked up by the medical industry worked. The investigators found that it originated from the feces of the triceratops, raptors and tyrannosaurus. Ed James had unintentionally brought carriers of this disease to our world. The authorities had found him dead in an apartment he was hiding out at. Cause of death. Dinosaur disease.

Mary had also caught this unknown illness. Weeks passed, but they could not save her. Beauregarde attended her funeral with much regret. He was given her art collection by her father. Beauregarde, perhaps by fate. Hadn’t gotten sick.

Neither the tyrannosaurs, or raptors were sighted again for quite some time. The dinosaurs probably hunted for food in the wild rather than the livestock.

“They’re heading North.” He said to the general. “The female was pregnant with eggs. They’ll want to be somewhere warm and away from human contact.” Beauregarde said.

“You better be right boy.” The gruff looking colonel said.

The tyrannosaurs had remained out of radar since they escaped. By now, the female had most likely laid her eggs. Beauregarde, being the current dino expert. Didn’t know how long it took. For some birds, it took a few weeks. For some reptiles, it took months. He didn’t know when they’d hatch.

It was in the middle of the fall when they found the raptors. They had taken refuge in an abandoned water mill out in the countryside. They were shot and their bodies burned. Beauregarde confirmed that there were no other raptors alive. After that, winter arrived.

Livestock started to vanish. Beauregarde knew this was the work of the tyrannosaurs. Now that they had a solid lead. Beauregarde and the army made their way to the last sighting of the tyrannosaurs.

The Search

Beauregarde and the army were searching of the tyrannosaur nest. The snow slashed against his face. His nose and cheeks a deep shade of red. He felt sleepy. All he wanted to do was to lie down and rest. If he did, he wouldn’t wake up again.

“What the hell we doin’ here? Why not just let the storm take care of em’?” The colonel said, shouting to be heard over the wind.

“No!” He shouted back, “We can’t risk letting them getting away. This might be our only chance to find them again.” As the storm worsened, they finally found it. The nest.

“What the hell?” The colonel said.

They saw the body of a tyrannosaur. It was on its side. It was dead.

“See? The cold finally did em’ in.”

“Wait.” Beauregarde said, “I need to check something.”

He crept over to the nest. The nest was 4-5 feet in diameter. It was surrounded by a ledge of dried mud. It was dug a few feet deep into the ground. In the thick haze, he could see the egg fragments scattered within the nest. He saw that one egg was untouched. It was a dud. Two more were shoved away from the nest. Probably as a means to keep the other eggs safe. This behavior was seen in ostriches. Upon further inspection he saw two dead tyrannosaur chicks. They were covered in striped brown-black downy feathers all the way from their tail, ankles to their neck. They were thinner and had longer legs than their adult counterparts. They probably stood 15 inches tall. The placement of the other eggs could be seen in the frozen mud. He saw five indends in the mud. With that, Beauregarde counted them up. He mumbled to himself as he did.

“Three plus five… is eight. That’s means eight were laid. Now… five indends… minus two dead chicks… that makes… three.”

“Well? Are we done here?” The impatient colonel spoke.

“No.” He said. “There are three chicks left. Plus the the other adult. There are four tyrannosaurs still out there sir. They probably left about some time ago.”

“Where?” The colonel said.

The male tyrannosaurus was out on the hunt again this evening. Normally, the male would stay behind and watch the chicks. Unfortunately, the female’s wounds which were still healing from the human firearms, had gotten infected. This weakened it espidentally since winter arrived. They had eight eggs in total. Only five were left. The adults had grown a 2nd coat of feathers along their lower half so that when they rested atop their dirt nest, it acted as a barrier for warmth. The chicks had grown a lot since they hatched way back in the summer. They chirped non-stop when food arrived. It was adorable.

Food was becoming more scarce, and being in a foreign land they didn’t now. They had to resort to hunting the penned animals owned by the humans: the strange, upright, two-legged mammals. With his belly full and two dead lambs hanging from its mouth. It was on its way to the nest. One lamb for its chicks, the other for its crippled mate. It returned to the nest deep within the forest. As it did, it saw that the female was on its side. Leaving the nest exposed to the elements. In the nest was two dead chicks. The remaining three huddled closer together, and hide by their now deceased mother trying to keep warm. The male walked closer and nudged the lifeless body a few times. She was dead. The chicks chirped. The male tyrannosaur turned its attention back to them. It turned away and started to eat one of the lambs. It was storing it for later. Then, something caught its ear. Humans. It lowered its massive head with its jaws wide open. The chicks climbed in. The male carried them off, like a mother crocodile.

Epilogue

The male tyrannosaur wandered the dense forest for shelter. It turned its head and saw the humans far in the distance. Their strange calls echoed. The tyrannosaur continued on. It soon came across a small fishing village. A large cargo ship was docked in the bay. Its next destination: Canada. The tyrannosaur remembered these strange “floating metal containers”. The humans had cornered he and its mate in a ravine before everything went dark. They found themselves locked up in a large metal barred cage. They soon arrived in the human world.

The chicks squeaked. The male looked around and saw the streets were empty. It cautiously wandered down the paved street. Making its way to the boat.

“Perhaps it would return him and his chicks to their home.” The tyrannosaur thought. Its footsteps reverberated against the hollow interior. Soon, it arrived in the cargo hold. It shook off the snow that was caught in its feather coat. The whole area was like a maze of wooden crates and supplies. It the far back of the cargo hold was a secluded area. This was the perfect place to hide itself and its chicks. The male lowered its head to allow his chicks to hop out. The cargo hold was much warmer than the outside world. The tyrannosaur lied down against the metal interior. It curled up, creating a “C” shape with its massive body. The adult regurgitated some meat for the chicks. They feasted upon it. The tyrannosaur would have to raise its chicks on its own now. The adult kept watch. It heard the foghorn bellow a trumpeting roar from above. A foghorn. The chicks had fallen asleep. The tyrannosaur let out a yawn and it too fell asleep.

“I want this whole goddamn area closed off! I don’t want those monsters setting one foot out of this forest.” The colonel said loudly to his men. As he did, Beauregarde wondered:

“What else don’t we know about? We incorrectly guessed what these animals looked like and underestimated their intelligence. For that, we were punished. If we had known more about these animals. Would we have been able to prevent this? Would we have been able to know that these animals carried a disease that was fatal to humans?” As Beauregarde continued to think about these ideas. He heard a trumpeting noise far off in the distance.

It was a fog horn of a cargo ship.

THE END. 

...

Illustrations for this short story I presented to my teacher. 

https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/Return-of-the-Tyrant-King-Illustrations-866623139 

https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/Return-Of-The-Tyrant-King-1-731447722 

https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/Return-Of-The-Tyrant-King-2-731447561

https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/Angry-T-rex-779626279

https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/Big-Dumb-Lizard-775264875

https://www.deviantart.com/artmakerproductions/art/Srsly-MOre-Dinosaur-relAted-ARt-765973106

[shini--chan]

1p (yandere) allies or axis The (country)reader gives them love and affection, because she knows they in love with her. They have a relationship, for few months. One day they come home and in the private office are really important documents missing. And they see the reader in the next meetings not (for years?). One day they see her again, what would they do?

Yandere Allies

America

He grinned menacingly at the sight of you. Anger was already slithering through your veins, the harsh snap of it causing his mind to fall into a familiar calculating state. He had fantasied about this moment for a long time, yearned for your touch for a long time, desire to crush you for your transgressions for a long time.

Maybe he was a moonstruck fool that simply couldn’t let go for feeling his heart palpitate upon the sight of you. Or he was just plain sadistic by the blissful way his blood rushed upon seeing you pale with fear.

Running away wouldn’t work at this point, since Alfred would be dead set on obtaining you and making you repent for your sins. He wouldn’t take espionage lightly, especially since you represented a honey-trap. All the memories he would have about you would be pleasant ones, and he would reflect back on those times where you were so perfect fondly. America would aim to recapture those moments and mould your persona to his liking.

He may or may not meet you again by chance, or he would have been actively hunting you down. If there is anything that can enrage America, it would be being bested – something you would have somehow accomplished with frightening ease. And something you would have to pay for. In Alfred’s eyes, it would just be fair play.

Canada

One moment you were calmly going through the aisles of the store, the next you were staring into indigo eyes. There was a smile on Matthew’s face – the soft, considerate kind that didn’t reach his eyes. There, an icy glint lingered, dangerous and subtle like frostbite in the bleak mid-winter.

Internally, you knew that was far more deadly than the usual temper tantrums, that people throw once they are betrayed. By the likes of it, you had made a fatal error in your calculations.

If you thought you’d be facing a flimsy little wallflower that has no backbone, then think again. Matthew’s anger is ice, and therefore he isn’t as blinded by emotions as others would be. Sure, deep down he would still love you (or rather be obsessed with you), yet that doesn’t mean that you would be off the hook.

No way in the whole world would he let you get away with what you did. However, with his kind words and sugary tone you wouldn’t be aware of the full extent of his rage. Unluckily for you, Canada is a hunter and he would know exactly how to pin you down and ensure you wouldn’t be able to escape until he would have his justice.

 China

“It has been a very long time, hasn’t it, my little rabbit?”, a silky-smooth voice inquired behind you. Startled, you whipped around, nearly spilled the champagne that you were delicately holding, and stared him in the eye.

The amber was cat-like, just like the tight smile on his lips. Feline as he was, no doubt he had all intentions to play with his prey. The music being drawn from the piano would be the requiem of your pride, and the other guests to the gala the audience to applaud the abrupt turn of your fate.

“When you went away, you broke my heart. I was struck by betrayal and I couldn’t keep my thoughts off you.

“Often, I would fantasize about you – what I would say, what would you say. But in the end, that is all irreverent. I’m simply a victim of the circumstances, here to set matters straight and you have gone ahead and set the stage. I am most touched”, he drawled, genuine hurt in his light tone.

The other people had started to look and whisper, the impending fall from grace too delicious to pass up. Such negative attention made you clutch the fragile stem of the flute even tighter.

Glass shards could never evoke as much pain as Yao’s sharp tongue.  

China would be smouldering with rage underneath the artfully crafted theatre mask. First of all, he would angry at himself. Due all the experience he has under his belt, he should know better than to fall for the tricks of some young fledgling. Still he did and the implications infuriate him. Nonetheless, the whole affair would be analysed and carefully catalogued in his mind to prevent you from ever having the upper hand again.

Secondly, he would be upset with you. Did all those kind words really mean nothing to you? All those tender moments, all those affections – a magnificent lie? He’d hope that deep down you had sincerely fallen in love with him. Through he wouldn’t be so foolish to act on that assumption. As old as he may be, he isn’t senile.

Try as you might to wriggle out of it, he wouldn’t let you. In an indirect way, you would have brought disgrace to his name by making him look like a fool. That means he wouldn’t hesitate to thoroughly humiliate you in public. Then he’d ensure that you would wind up in his gracious custody – with no means of ever leaving him. Having then isolate you, he would use that precious time with you to re-educate you. Whoever did it before he entered your life evidently did a measly job.  

England

When you switched on the light to your living room, you nearly tripped over your own feet in shock. Malice danced like fae fire in the pair of eyes that scrutinized your every move and drank in your terrified expression like it was whisky.

Eventually overcoming the initial shock, you seethed: “What are you doing here. Decent people knock on the door and don’t simply invite themselves in!”

“Strange for you to say that. Even hypocritic, if I may remark”, Arthur lightly said, words slow as if he was weighing every word against gold. No doubt he was barely holding all the insults back.

He gestured to the armchair opposite him. “Have a seat. There all a lot of things we need to talk about, and loose end to tie up.”

Out of all the nations, England would be the most volatile. When your relationship would have started, he would have been cautious, even suspicious to a degree. His paranoia would have been well-founded, especially with how many times he’d been backstabbed in the past. That he had invested his trust in you only for you to abuse it would reaffirm his belief that it would be best to keep his hackles raised. Never tiring, he would hunt you down, constantly torn between the desire for revenge and how he would yearn for your love. That mixture would be potentially lethal.

Arthur might kill you with the justification of “if I can’t have you, no-one can” or also “a fitting punishment for your crime. However, that option would just be further down his list. If you act polite, then he would largely reciprocate the favour. If you lash out or even just insult him then he would rain fire and brimstone down on you.

The conversation would be like an interrogation, with only a thin veil of civility leaving room for something else. Should you beg for his forgiveness, then he would be pleased and even a bit lenient. That doesn’t mean that you’d evade the punishments he’d have instore for you.

France

You saw Francis before he saw you, a lucky thing on your part. Your former lover looked lost. Not that it was the initial impression that a random pass byer would glean from him, but you knew him better.

For a brief moment your thoughts darted to the documents you had leaked to your government – damaging, condemning information if it were to land in enemy hands, which was exactly what happened. If you didn’t know better, then you would pity poor France for the travesty that happened.

You prowled forward to him. Such a sappy fool, you could probably convince him that you still loved him. Maybe you could glean some more information from him.

Your hubris would really be the end of you. Naturally, France would be overjoyed to see you and immediately welcome you back with open arms and a giddy smile. Just remember that love, or rather obsession in his case, isn’t harmless. The limerence he would have with you would entail that he would squirrel you away and hoard you.

In the beginning, you wouldn’t even fully notice where the whole matter would be heading, either blinded by your own false pride or by Francis’ suave manner. Either way, if you wouldn’t wake up to his counter machinations fast, then you’d have all the information you could wish from him but no means to reporting it to your superiors. Your foolishness would land you in a gilded cage.  

Russia

Once he reached the top of the hill you noticed him. Ivan was strolling down the same path that cut through meadows and forests, just a few metres ahead of you. Of all times to meet him, you had least expected it to be during your evening stroll.

You halted in your tracks, contemplating if it would be better to wait until the danger was far away or to immediately turn around and head back home. Russia ended up making the choice for you, and it was neither of the options you had in mind.

He must have somehow sensed your presence, for he glanced over your shoulder. Recognition flashed over his defined visage and it evoked a sense of dread in you. Especially when he pivoted around and approached you.

With some difficulty, you swallowed your fear, because you knew that Ivan was like a wolf that would mangle you if he whiffed weakness. Meticulously, you adored your lips with a picture-perfect smile, a painter adding the finishing touches to their masterpiece in your own right.

“It is a wonderful evening, eh?”, he asked you, in that soft voice you were so well acquainted with.

Russia would first play on pleasantries. However, don’t be fooled. He can hold a grudge and once in his grasp, he would shy away from making his displeasure known. You’d have to be very lucky to escape him and more to permanently evade him. The chance would be slim, yet it would be there. And don’t think that he would be stupid enough to point it out to you.

Your betrayal would have been a smarting blow to him, even if he would have half-expected him. And to him, petty little information thieves are surprisingly worse than cold-blooded murderers. The threat you would represent wouldn’t be obvious, yet that wouldn’t stop with from curbing all those bad habits. He’d miss the person you had displayed yourself as when you had been wooing him and he would do his best to build you to be that person in reality.

[rosedavid]

the fear of knowing

Pairings: Merlin & Gwen friendship, slight Gwen/Arthur

Canon Divergence from 4x08: Lamia

Warnings: brief descriptions of violence and execution (not graphic)

Description: Gwen discovers Merlin’s magic when they are fighting the Lamia. This leads to her having to reevaluate her views on magic and Merlin himself.

Please ignore any mistakes - I wrote this very quickly with no editing because I am lazy lol. If you enjoy this, please consider reblogging :)

...

Gwen lunges toward Lamia with a sense of courage she never knew she possessed. All she registers is Merlin being dragged away before she just acts. Although not as competent with a sword as a knight, she manages to wound Lamia, who lets out a pained shriek. It’s enough to incapacitate Lamia into letting go of Merlin. Gwen stumbles to the ground along with Merlin, who immediately places himself in front of her. Lamia only takes seconds to recover before she hovers over the two of them again, ready to strike.

Gwen can’t hear anything over the pounding of her heart. She grips Merlin’s tunic sleeve tighter, looking over to him as if for the last time. She expects to see fear and guilt etched upon his face. What she sees is gold. 

Merlin’s eyes are glowing gold. One of his hands is outstretched, mouth just about to open. Gwen gapes at him, her gaze torn between him and Lamia, wondering what will happen next.

But Gwen doesn’t have to wonder long, as suddenly a sword stabs Lamia through the back, revealing a worried Arthur. Merlin’s eyes fade back to normal, as if the golden hue was never there to begin with. Shakily, Gwen chokes out his name, then surges to greet him. She clings onto him, practically leaping into his arms. A sob forces its way out as they hug, but she refuses to let herself feel weaker than she already does. 

“You carry on, don’t worry about me.”

Merlin’s voice breaks them from each other, and Gwen is brought back to the reality of everything that just happened. Arthur heads over to help Merlin up, while Gwen hangs back, still shaking. 

After a few bickering remarks, Arthur rejoins Gwen. She wraps an arm around his middle, reveling in the comfort someone familiar brings her. Because suddenly, her whole view of Merlin has been turned upside down. Merlin, the one who Arthur beckons to follow behind them to safety, is a sorcerer. 

Everything feels too overwhelming. Lamia was harrowing enough, but to have this newfound secret suddenly revealed to her? That makes her feel all the more anxious. She sticks close to Arthur as they head back to the village. If Merlin is suspicious of Gwen, then he doesn’t let anything on. She sees Merlin rubbing at his back, as if in pain, and she swallows down the immediate need to help her friend. It’s just too much right now. Besides, Merlin appears to be doing alright, if not a bit bruised, so Gwen figures it’s okay to keep her distance for the time being. 

They return to Camelot soon after the knights are all deemed well enough to travel. Things are uncomfortable with the knights, as well, after everything that occurred, so Gwen mainly just stays to herself or with Arthur. She doesn’t know what else to do. 

When the castle finally comes into view, Gwen heaves a great sigh of relief. Maybe now everything can finally get back to normal. However, as she glances at Merlin, she realizes that nothing will never be the same again. Even as she gets back to work, she can’t stop thinking about it all. Lamia. The Knights. Merlin. 

Gwen’s had a rocky past with sorcery. Obviously, she’s grown accustomed to not having any sorcerers around because of the ban on magic in Camelot. Gwen was raised to fear sorcery, to view it as something purely evil. Still, Gwen’s father always taught them never to hate anyone, that they should always be kind and true to themselves. So, despite Uther’s views on the vileness of magic, Gwen never outwardly detested magic. In fact, for a long time, Gwen was sort of indifferent on magic. She never thought of it as some terrible thing, but she also never associated it with good. What she does associate sorcery with is fear. 

She’s always feared sorcery, whether it be because of the dangerous those with sorcery pose to the kingdom or because of the horrible things that happen when sorcery gets involved. Gwen could never stand the burnings; the smell of fiery flesh and screaming is something she’ll never forget. And then, it all became unimaginably worse when her own father was executed on the crime of sorcery, a crime he didn’t even commit. And the nightmares are horrific. She had hoped they would vanish after time, but now she knows better. Still, she wakes up some nights gasping for air as she cries, fear flooding through her veins. So yes, magic scares her. 

But when she thinks of Merlin, one of her closest friends, she can’t imagine ever being fearful of him. Besides, he just saved her life. If it wasn’t for him, for his magic, Gwen may not have made it out of there alive. She knows that Merlin would never hurt her, and she trusts him with her life. He’s always there for her, no matter how tough things may get. And Merlin has always had such a kind heart and giving personality. He makes everyone around him happier, even Arthur (though he’ll never admit it). So, even though Gwen equates sorcery with fear and death, she can’t possibly equate Merlin with anything other than goodness and light.

She feels so conflicted between her views of magic and her views of Merlin that she ends up avoiding him for a good couple of days. When Arthur asks her about it, she talks it up to everything she’s been through, which technically isn’t a lie. She hates lying to Arthur, but she can’t find it in herself to tell him the truth. Similarly, she can’t find it in herself to tell Merlin that she knows. 

And the longer Gwen thinks about it, the more she understands. As the months pass by, she observes Merlin in a different perspective, and slowly but surely it all starts to come together. 

The first thing she notices is the way Merlin tenses when Arthur, or anyone else for that matter, mentions magic. Immediately, it’s as if Merlin’s on constant guard. Gwen doesn’t know how she didn’t notice Merlin’s reactions before. His expression drops to something serious, and his eyes hold a deep worry in them, traveling far beneath the surface. You can tell he’s trying his hardest not to react, but now that Gwen knows his secret, it’s like she has another view into his behavior. She can see every nervous fidget, every hand clenching into his trousers, the strained nod he sends Arthur when Arthur declares some type of lookout or attack on a sorcerer. She may not be able to understand everything that Merlin’s feeling, but she can tell it’s eating him up inside. 

And that’s just the first of it. She also begins to notice that Merlin does a lot more work than he appears to do. In addition to being Arthur’s manservant, Gwen often finds Merlin coming back to Gaius’s worse for wear. He always brushes it off if she asks, usually claiming that “Arthur worked me too hard at training, the prat,” or “I had a run in with a ditch while collecting herbs for Gaius.” But she sees the weariness behind his smile, the complete and utter exhaustion in his gait. She knows that he’s been doing a lot more for all of them than he’s ever let on. Gwen only wonders what he’s hiding behind his mask.

Through the months, Gwen’s mood shifts from fear to anger. Anger that Merlin kept this from her. She thought they were best friends, that they told each other everything. Gwen has certainly told Merlin everything. But this part of Merlin that he’s been hiding from her makes Gwen feel like she doesn’t even know him at all. 

However, after the anger passes, Gwen starts to feel a bit guilty about it all. She’s been keeping Merlin’s magic a secret for all of a few months, and already the toll of keeping it has been weighing on her constantly. She can only imagine what Merlin’s been going through if he’s had his magic for the whole time he’s been in Camelot. But the part that makes Gwen feel the most guilty it that she never noticed. She always expressed her concern for Merlin, of course, but whenever he used a typical excuse, she assumed everything was fine. Even those times when things seemed a bit more than suspicious, Gwen never thought twice. All this time, Merlin has been guarding this secret in fear for his life, and as far as Gwen knows, he’s been dealing with it alone. 

So, as conflicted as Gwen feels about everything, she comes to realize that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that Merlin is a sorcerer because Merlin is her friend. And as Merlin’s friend, Gwen can’t stand to hide from him the fact that she knows about his magic. 

They’ve interacted plenty of times since that day, but to Gwen they all felt forced, like she was pretending. She wants to feel that bond of friendship again. She cares for Merlin, as she knows he cares for her, and she wants to make everything right again. 

Of course, the day that she chooses to do it ends up being the worst possible time. 

Gwen awakens that morning with one thought on her mind: Tell Merlin. So, after eating and attending to her morning duties, she immediately heads to find Merlin. She goes to Arthur’s chambers, first, as that’s where Merlin usually is in the mornings. To her surprise, she only finds Arthur in there, eating his own breakfast. 

“Good morning, Guinevere,” Arthur greets, surprised. 

“Good morning,” Gwen greets back, smiling as he stops eating to kiss her cheek. “You haven’t seen Merlin, have you?”

Arthur rolls his eyes at this statement, already confirming the answer to her question before he even responds. “That idiot didn’t even wake me this morning! He’s just lucky that I didn’t have anything pressing to attend to. When he gets back, though, he’s definitely going to pay with some time in the stocks.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?” Gwen asks, knowing that Arthur doesn’t truly mean his threats. “I’m sure he’s just busy with chores for Gaius. Let me know if you see him, though. I need to talk with him about something.”

“Or at the tavern,” Arthur adds under his breath, earning a stern glance from Gwen. He eases up. “Fine, I’ll let you know. But if you find him, you let him know that I’m this close to firing him!”

Gwen smiles. “Of course. I’ll see you later, Arthur.”

With one last kiss goodbye, Gwen leaves Arthur’s chambers in search of Merlin yet again. She heads down to Gaius’s next, hoping that he truly is there helping out the Physician. When she arrives, though, she only sees Gaius searching through some potions. 

“Ah, hello Gwen. What can I do for you?” Gaius asks. 

“I’m afraid I’m just searching for Merlin. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

Gaius raises an eyebrow. “No, I haven’t. He wasn’t here when I got up, so I just figured he was with Arthur. Is he not?”

“Arthur hasn’t seen him. Gave me quite the earful about it.”

A worried expression appears on Gaius’s face, and Gwen has a feeling that it’s from more than just him wondering where his missing ward may have gone. She hesitates before asking the next question.

“Gaius....could his disappearance have something to do with his....abilities?” Gwen asks gently, biting her lip. 

Gaius startles a bit, staring at her openly before putting a blank expression back on. “I can’t say I know what you’re talking about.”

“Please, Gaius, I’m really worried about Merlin. I know about everything--the magic. I found out after Lamia, and I’ve been keeping it a secret from him that I know, but now I feel like I need to tell him, but he’s missing and I’m worried that it’s something serious--”

Gaius places a hand on her arm. “Calm down, Guinevere. I have to say, I’m surprised that you know, but Merlin never has been the most careful with his magic.”

“So do you think that’s why he’s gone? Is it something to do with him protecting us again?”

Gaius sighs, rubbing his brow. “I can’t say for certain, but usually that’s what his disappearances end up being about. Usually, he tells me what’s going on before wandering off, at least.”

“He could be in danger,” Gwen realizes. “I have to go find him.”

“You must stay here, Gwen, where it is safe. I don’t know what kind of trouble my boy has gotten himself into now, but I’m certain he wouldn’t want you to risk your life on top of that. He comes out of these things.”

“But how does he come out of them?! Maybe he survives, but at what cost? He’s throwing himself at danger for our expense! I have to help him.”

Gaius relents. “I understand, but please be careful. Who knows what Merlin is up to this time. I would advise you to take a knight, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t listen.”

Gwen shakes her head. “I can’t risk them finding out about Merlin. I might not be completely comfortable with the idea of his magic yet, but I do know that Merlin is my friend, and I will not betray him. Now, do you have any idea of where I might start looking?”

Gaius thinks to himself for a moment before remembering, “Merlin did say something last night about going to the forest for more herbs. I didn’t think anything of it, after all we are running quite low on some items. We typically gather herbs down by the creek.”

“The forest creek. I’ll start there, then. Thank you, Gaius.”

“Thank you, Gwen, for being such a loyal friend to Merlin.”

Gwen smiles, nodding her farewell to the Physician. She only hopes that her loyalty proves true enough that she can find Merlin. 

...

The forest has a strange air to it. The lack of any wind makes the trees stand unnaturally still and silent. Despite the bright shining sun that morning, there’s a dark mood within the forest as she wanders through it. In one hand, she holds a sword, the same one she wounded Lamia with months ago. It seems silly, but the sword reminds her of her bravery, and it gives her strength. 

As she continues on her trek through the forest, worried thoughts play through her head about what condition she might find Merlin in. Gwen doesn’t know what she would do if she lost her closest friend.

Gwen reaches the creek bed, but Merlin is no where to be found. She isn’t surprised, as she figured that Merlin wouldn’t be out for so long merely collecting herbs. Gwen continues searching as the day wears on, only stopping to drink and eat, replenishing her energy. 

Gwen walks a long distance in search of Merlin, though she never strays into unfamiliar parts of the forest in fear that she won’t find her way back. Her feet ache horribly, and her body is weak, but she refuses to give up before nightfall. The sun rises and sets, and soon Gwen is left searching in the near dark with only the stars to guide her. She’s about ready to call it quits, as she can’t search for Merlin properly if she gets incapacitated herself, when she suddenly hears a deep, loud noise in the distance.

She chases after the noise, despite not knowing what the noise could possibly be. The noise sounds again, only softer, and Gwen continues to trace it as best she can in the dark. Brush scrapes at her hands as she hurries through the foliage, following her only lead she’s had all day. 

Finally, panting in exertion, Gwen stumbles into a clearing. Although it is dark, she can make out a familiar form kneeling on the ground next to something. Gwen shudders in relief and sprints over to him. 

“Merlin!” she calls out, hitching up her dress as she goes. The figure startles, turning toward the noise. As she gets closer, he comes into better view. 

“Gwen?!” Merlin asks in confusion, standing up to greet her. 

Gwen smacks into him, clinging on tightly to his form. He winces, but clings back to her just as tightly. An odd chirping noise interrupts their reunion. Gwen pulls away, only to find what looks like a tiny baby dragon at their feet, white as snow, and a cracked egg. She gasps in surprise. 

“I-I can explain,” Merlin stutters, grappling for some sort of excuse. Meanwhile, Gwen kneels next to the creature, cooing at it. The dragon snuffles, scooting closer to her in caution. Gwen offers a hand, allowing the dragon to come to her. It stretches out to sniff at her, obviously deeming her acceptable as he comes closer to nudge into her hand with another adorable chirp. Gwen giggles, stroking the strange feeling skin with her palm as the dragon continues to nuzzle her. 

“Adorable. What’s its name?” Gwen wonders idly as she scratches at the dragon’s neck. 

“Aithusa, her name is Aithusa,” Merlin replies, still shocked at everything that’s happening around him. “Gwen--why are you here?”

Gwen stops petting Aithusa, who continues to explore the world around her. She stands again, facing Merlin. “I was worried about you, of course! No one knew where you were, Merlin. You could have been dead!”

“Well, I’m obviously alive,” Merlin jokes. Gwen smacks his arm. 

“That’s not funny, Merlin!”

“I’m sorry, really.” He pauses, in thought. “...You don’t seem very surprised by the dragon.”

“Oh, I am a bit. I didn’t expect you to have hatched a dragon egg, but I’m not surprised that you’re getting into something magic related. That’s actually what I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

Merlin plays dumb. “W-what? What are you talking about?”

“Do not think me stupid, Merlin. I have known about your magic for a while now, since the Lamia incident. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I was trying to wrap my head around everything.”

Merlin gapes at her, face paler than normal. His fingers twitch, and he looks around, as if ready to bolt from her. She takes a step forward, ignoring his flinch, and brings him into another hug. He hesitates before cautiously hugging back. 

“So, you don’t hate me?” Merlin wonders, still on edge. 

Gwen chuckles. “I don’t hate you, Merlin. I don’t think I could ever hate you. I’ll admit, I was confused and hurt at first, because I’ve been taught to fear magic my entire life. I never would have expected you to be a sorcerer. But then, it all began to make sense. You’ve been protecting us all this entire time.”

She feels the heat of Merlin’s blush against her cheek. “It’s my duty to protect my friends and Camelot.”

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t honest with you about knowing.”

Merlin pulls away this time, looking her in the eye. “You’re sorry?! I’m sorry, Gwen. You’re my best friend. I should have been honest with you about my magic from the beginning, but I was scared.”

“You’re my best friend too, Merlin. And you don’t need to be scared any longer, not around me.”

Merlin smiles, appearing lighter than before. The feeling of Aithusa pawing at her leg gently interrupts the moment. Gwen looks down, unable to do anything but smile at the baby dragon. 

“Don’t worry, little one. We haven’t forgotten about you,” Gwen coos, reaching down to pick her up. Aithusa trills happily at the attention. “Speaking of which, what are we going to do about her?”

Merlin scratches his head. “I hadn’t really thought any further ahead.”

Gwen rolls her eyes. “Of course not. Honestly, you men are all the same sometimes. It’s a good thing I’m here to help now. What if we find her a nice cave to reside in where no one will discover her?”

“That won’t work, at least not now. She’s a baby, she needs someone to care for her constantly. I thought Kilgharrah would naturally do that, but I guess I should do it myself.”

“Kilgharrah?” Gwen questions, then backtracks. “Not now, later. You do still have a lot to explain to me, Merlin. Don’t think you’re getting off the hook quite so easily.”

Merlin laughs. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to bring her to Camelot for now. Only temporarily though! Maybe you can disguise her.”

“Disguise her? How?”

Gwen stares at him. “Magic?”

“Oh, oh yeah! Maybe. I’d have to consult some of my books, though. Maybe she could be disguised as a large bird, like an owl.”

“We’ll figure out the details on our way back to Camelot. Also, just so you know, Arthur is probably planning your punishment as we speak.”

Merlin groans. “Of course. That prat. You couldn’t convince him otherwise?”

“I tried! But you know Arthur. Besides, I do think you deserve a bit of reprimand after leaving to hatch a dragon egg! You could have been seriously hurt, Merlin.”

“I know, but I’m alright, I promise.” As if to confirm this, Aithusa hops from Gwen’s arms over to Merlin’s shoulder, sniffing him. Merlin chuckles, sweeping a hand over her flank. She happily chirps and curls around his shoulders, fitting perfectly. 

“You’re still going to get checked out by Gaius when we get back.”

“Fine, if that will convince you.”

Gwen glances over at Merlin, knowing now that she’s finally seeing him for who he really is. “I’m glad I know, Merlin.”

“I’m glad you know, too.”

[ficforce]

Blind Spot Part 2

Obi x Reader

He didn’t have time to do more than leave a message for his team, Obi ran out of the station after grabbing the first aid kit, his legs carried him as fast as he could stand and then further, his muscles hurt and his lungs began to burn after sprinting block after block but he couldn’t stop until he got to her. She had been snatched from the back of the station and driven to a construction site in the district, Y/N hadn’t given him much more information other than she had gotten away and that she had been shot trying to get away. “Y/N - !” His call was little more than a gasp, he coughed when he finally stopped running, needing to get his heart rate down before he passed out he sucked in air to get the oxygen back into his lungs and muscles - she needed him. Obi’s head moved constantly, turning this way and that in search of her, he felt something drip down onto his head and looked up into the darkness of the half-built structure, another warm splash hit his cheek and he saw Y/N through the grated walkway above when he squinted, “Y/N!” He ran up the stairs and gathered her up in his arms, her head lolled against his chest and the Captain called her name over and over until she came to, “A-Akitaru…” She tried to smile up to him but the pain hit her hard and she took in a sharp breath. “I’m going to take care of you… stay with me, Y/N, this is nothing, right?” Obi knew he had to act fast, he searched for her wound and suddenly his eyebrows drew together, he knew she had headed for the showers after dinner and he knew she would wear her PJ shorts and a tank top before bed after her shower but her shorts were missing and he realised that the top was torn quite badly. The gunshot wound was located just under the left side of her ribs and he had to concentrate on that first, “I’m gonna lay you back down and stop the bleeding.” Obi could hear sirens in the distance and knew his team were on the way, “Y/N, are you… did he hurt you…” He shrugged off his jacket and rolled it up under her head.

She knew what he was asking and shook her head, “He underestimated me…” He applied pressure to her wound after trying to clean it up with disinfectant a bit, he didn’t complain as her nails bit into his arm from the pain he was causing her. Obi wasn’t medically trained and he only knew a little to get someone almost stable enough to move, he knew he was hurting her but tried to keep focused, “Hinawa’s gonna be so mad…” “Hinawa?” Obi asked and looked up at her face, she was getting pale and her shivering had gotten worse. “I tried to defend myself but he took the gun from me, shot me before I could kick him away… he fell off the side.” Y/N cried out as he tried to lift her, the man apologising over and over as he caused her pain. Obi carried her down the stairs and out to the front of the building just as the matchbox squealed to a halt, the doors opened and Obi was ushered inside, some of the team remaining to hunt down Y/N’s stalker whilst the other half tried to help keep the woman steady as Hinawa put on the sirens and lights, the man pushing the vehicle as fast as it would go to get to the nearest hospital in time. Maki pulled a blanket out and covered her friend to give both decency and warmth, “Trust you to get kidnapped in your underwear.” Y/N couldn’t laugh through the chattering of her teeth, “A-at l-l-least they’re p-pretty…” She had lost consciousness before they reached the hospital and the doctors rushed her straight into surgery. The team sat outside the operating room, later joined by the rest of Company 8 and they waited and waited. Obi paced up and down, ignoring his concerned friends as they tried to get him to stop - how could he stop? His heart was pumping his blood so fast that if he stopped he felt like he might explode, the Captain clasped his hands together anxiously and it was then that he seemed to suddenly realise that Y/N’s blood was on his hands and headed for the bathroom, Hinawa followed him a second later. The Lieutenant watched as Obi scrubbed at his hands and forearms almost frantically, he wasn’t used to seeing him like that and pushed up his glasses a little, “I shouldn’t have given her a weapon when I knew her opponent could take it from her, I’m sorry, Captain.” He had known the man was military and he should have known that Y/N would have been better with some hand to hand training instead. Obi continued to scrub at his hands and glanced at the Hinawa’s reflection, “I should have asked her out instead of letting her go to that stupid dating agency… I was worried she’d say no and now…” He really was just a stupid gorilla… “Now I might never get to ask her - Hell, she might not want to date anyone who looks like me ever again!” She was his type, Obi had lamented the fact so often but he had never asked her out, he had simply assumed she’d want to be his friend only. “He tore at her clothes like some animal, Hinawa, if he’d -” “He didn’t.” The Lieutenant cut him off and pulled out some hand towels for Obi to dry himself on, he couldn’t ignore the tremble in his Captain’s voice and he hated the way Obi was punishing himself. Hinawa grabbed the man’s shoulders and gave him a firm shake, his eyes wide and bright as heat spiked up inside him, “And he’s never going to because he’s dead. The police will want a statement later but he smashed open his skull when he fell from the walkway. He’d done this to other women, Captain.” They hadn’t been dealing with an amateur and as far as Hinawa was concerned it was done. “You know I respect you more than anyone, Captain, but you need to get your shit together and get back out there.” “…You’re right…” — - Y/N had been stuck in the hospital for weeks before she was allowed to go home, she was still supposed to rest whilst she healed but the woman was excited to return to her friends. She wasn’t allowed to walk around for another week and then she would have to go to physio in order to get back on her feet; the bullet had been fired so close to her that it had torn through some core muscles and if it had been a little further to the left

she wouldn’t have walked again. Company 8 cheered as Iris wheeled her into the rec room and Y/N was ecstatic that Hinawa had cooked an amazing feast for her ‘welcome Back’ dinner. Arthur and Shinra fought over who would give her the best cuts of meat but Vulcan took advantage of their arguing to make sure she had enough food. She was grateful that they wanted to look after her and she managed to stop Hinawa murdering the two loudest by complimenting his cooking, everyone was loud and Y/N was so pleased to be back with her family. The only thing that wasn’t quite right was Obi. His smile didn’t reach his eyes and he was much quieter than she had ever known him to be, he hadn’t really spent much time with her since she had woken up in the hospital. She picked up her cup and brought it to her lips, not realising it was empty because she had been staring at him, she had barely put it down when the Captain automatically refilled it for her, “Thanks.” “No problem…” He didn’t even look at her before stuffing his mouth full of rice. Licht was opposite her and he began talking about something they had been chatting about the day before, Y/N sighed and told him again that she didn’t think the matchbox needed a flaming exhaust, the scientist and Vulcan gave a sigh as she dashed their dreams again, “You’re so mean, Y/N…” He chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then he came right out with a question he had been wondering about, “Do you think you’ll start dating again when you feel better?” A silence descended over the table and the only person who hadn’t frozen awkwardly was Y/N. She sipped her tea and then gave a little shrug, “I’m giving up on the agency and meeting strangers. Hinawa was right when he told me to look a little closer to home.” “I said to look in the real world.” “Can’t you just be happy I’m listening to you for once?” “This is my happy face.” Hinawa insisted. Y/N’s expression was amused, “It just looks the same as your murder face…” Laughter broke the awkward moment and the Team went back to a lively dinner. She wasn’t going to let her experience stop her from being happy, the man had been a predator and he had gotten into her head from the very start - it had thrown her off and then when he had snatched her she had lost her cool and panicked. She should have kept herself calm and then the whole thing would have been so different. It had been pure luck that she had collapsed so close to the site’s phone and then when she had heard Obi’s voice Y/N had felt so hopeful that she would be saved; he had always been reaching her like some… Prince Charming. Her head turned to the side and she was suddenly fascinated by the man’s profile. She had always had some attraction to him but suddenly she didn’t feel like he was missing something, it was as if Obi had always been just inside her blindspot and now she could see him clearly. Y/N had always dreamed of a Prince charging into her life one day, sweeping her off her feet and loving her until the end of time, she had felt like she had been running out of time and she hadn’t had a long, meaningful relationship in her life. She had always wondered if Mr Right would ever find her… That’s what she had thought. In truth, for the past ten years, she had had Obi by her side, even when they hadn’t worked together anymore they would still meet up for drinks, he had helped her with her training when she got a little behind on performance. That was long and it was meaningful - he was one of her very best friends. Maybe Mr Right was right there but she hadn’t seen it. Even the first time they met had been the epitome of being swept off her feet. Obi had carried her out of a collapsed building after she had broken her leg falling through the floor. The celebratory mood of the table made it easy for some of them to miss her realisation and she hadn’t even realised she was shaking a little until a large warm hand rested on her thigh, a comforting warmth spreading through her body and soothing her nerves, looking to her side she met chocolate brown eyes and they didn’t

have to speak for the other to know. He really had been in her blindspot all this time but now she could only return his shy smile as they saw each other for what felt like the first time.

[inactive-seathesilverlinings]

Training Day pt. 3

2093

I will update on AO3 when I get home, forgot to set it up this morning and copying from the tumblr app is just not possible 😂

**

Sneaking past the adults had been surprisingly easy really. Even Dad hadn’t noticed that she left the training session for a quick trip to the kitchen, apparently it paid to be the quiet one sometimes. She had managed to slip out of the kitchen through the back door just as Uncle John and Uncle Gordon had walked in the other door without them even suspecting a thing. Her feeling of triumphant success was short lived however when she turned around a walked directly into Grandpa Jeff.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“I didn’t think your dads training session had finished already, we haven’t had a flood of noise.”

“Uh... Well... I...”

“I’m waiting Clo,”

“Snack break?” She held up her sandwich and strawberry milkshake, hoping he would believe her.

“Again, no noise. Do you want to try again, or is that what we’re sticking with?”

“Sticking with?” She smiled sheepishly, ready for a telling off and to be escorted straight back to the training area.

To her surprise he laughed.

“Well, you might have the stealth down but you don’t quite have your mothers poker face yet my girl,”

“You’re not mad?” Clover asked quietly.

“No, why would I be mad? Getting out of there without your dad noticing, getting past all of us into the kitchen, going unnoticed for a long enough time to make yourself a sandwich no less... I can even hear Uncle John and Uncle Gordon in the kitchen right now and you managed to get out without being seen. I’m actually very proud of you!”

Clover beamed. “Really?!”

“Really. You’ve done well, more than earned that sandwich. Just, do me a favour?”

“Sure!”

“Make me one before you head back down.”

Clover giggled. “Sure thing Grandpa,”

Once back downstairs she managed to sneak her way past the control room and make it over to the top of the climbing wall to enjoy her picnic while she watched the rest of the session unfold, with a plan to drop back down at the last minute and pretend to have been there the whole time. Or at least that was the idea, until she got spotted.

He couldn’t see who it was but a mental tally of the kids he could see around him told him that the swinging foot could only belong to his youngest daughter.

“Clover!”

The leg was pulled hastily back up to the top of the climbing wall and out of view. And Scott was aware of the others stopping in their shenanigans to look up too.

“I’ve already seen you Clo!”

Slowly a face appeared, looking down to him.

“Yeah Dad?”

“What are you doing up there?!”

“Waiting my turn,” she answered simply.

“Are you eating a sandwich?!”

Clover swiftly pulled the hand holding her food behind her back and swallowed quickly.

“No.”

“Come down here. Now!”

“Okay! Okay!”

As Clover disappeared from view Scott sighed heavily.

“You guys just keep doing whatever. Shout Virgil if you need medical assistance...”

“Where did you even get a sandwich?”

“The kitchen.”

“When did you go to the kitchen?!”

“How long ago did you have us running laps?”

“What!?”

“I’m not sorry, you should have noticed I was gone. In fact, the only person who noticed at all was Grandpa, and that’s only because I walked right into him.”

“Why did Grandpa not bring you back down?” Scott thought for sure Dad would have backed him up on this and made her return to the training session.

“I made him a sandwich too,” the teenager shrugged.

“What?”

“He said he wouldn’t rat me out because I earned my sandwich by managing to get past everyone and then he asked me to make him one too.”

Dammit Dad...

“I can go back up and make you one too if you want,”

“That’s not...” Scott ran a hand over his face. “That’s not the point I’m trying to make here Clover.”

“Would have thought you’d be proud of my stealth skills. Grandpa was.” She muttered.

Scott sighed again, torn. “I’m proud of what you managed to do sweetheart, really, but I don’t think this was the best time.”

Clover folded her arms across her chest and huffed.

“Well there’s no point if you’re expecting it, if you’re expecting it it’s not st- -”

She was cut off by a crash across the room.

After being told to get on with it while Uncle Scott talked to Clover, George had joined the obstacle course with Piper as his navigator. And everything was going just about as well as expected. Leo was still filming the chaos and Stella acting as referee, sending them back to the beginning if the walker dared to open their eyes, or either were to try any other underhand tactics.

“I should be able to control you like Remy does to the chef guy in Ratatouille.”

“Linguini.”

“What?” Piper looked down at George.

“The ‘chef guy’ in Ratatouille is called Linguini.” He cracked an eye open to look back up at her.

“You looked!” Stella called. “George and Piper back to the start!”

“Shit!” George shouted.

He stomped a foot in frustration and felt something roll underneath it.

Oh no...

He’d stomped straight on a water bottle and the next thing he heard was Piper’s loud squeal as they hurtled towards Paxton and Arthur. Arthur didn’t notice what was happening until it was too late to alert Paxton and all four of them crashed to the ground together.

They laid in a groaning heap for a moment before any of them dared to speak.

“Hey Pipes, you good?”

“Ow...”

“I’ll take that as a no,” George twisted, his shoulder hurt. “Pax, Arthur?”

“My head hurts...” Arthur groaned, sitting up, carefully pushing Piper off of him.

“At least there’s nothing in it to damage.” Wren giggled, still sitting on Genevieve's shoulders.

“Shut up.”

“Is everyone okay?!” Scott ran over, Clover following behind.

“My head hurts.” Arthur repeated.

“And my back,” Paxton finally sounded off

“I think I’ve sprained my shoulder,”

“I think Arthur and Pax broke my fall so I’m good.”

Virgil appeared closely followed by John, Gordon, and Alan.

“Okay, you four stay here, the rest of you just go back upstairs...”

“Yes sir, Commander Dad, sir!” Clover mock saluted.

Genevieve put Wren down and the younger one turned to Stella.

“Does this mean that we win?”

“Only by default!” Paxton shouted after them.

“There will be a rematch!” George added.

Genevieve nodded. “I think that means we win.”

The girls high fived as Wren shouted a triumphant ‘Yes!’

“Go. Upstairs. Now!” Scott yelled and they made themselves scarce, herded by the other three of his brothers who were trying not to laugh, while Virgil approached him.

“Have fun?”

“Next time medical goes last.”

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 23

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 23: The 179th returns home

//Happy Holidays everyone! Here’s a little gift to everyone who’s always given me so much support in my writing. 

            Amelia wasn’t sure she was able to feel so many emotions all at once. It was nearly a similar experience to when she first held Max and Annie right after they were born. Every part of her felt like it was pushing against her skin. All the feelings were just ready to burst out of her.

            Excitement, impatience, hope, longing, and yet there was a sadness. They would finally be reunited but there would still be those years they lost. They could never get that time back.

            Max was bouncing up and down by the door. “C’mon mum!” He yelled.

            “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Amelia hurried downstairs with Annie in her arms. “It’s a little early, poppet.”

            “I wanna be there though.” The almost eight-year-old protested.

            “We’ll get there soon enough, it’s not too far.” Amelia opened the door and let Annie down. “We need to wait here for the rest.”

            Max whined. “But what if we miss the train?”

            “We won’t, I promise. Daddy will still be there waiting for us.” Amelia couldn’t exactly blame him though. She was praying that the train wasn’t late. She had waited years for this day but now couldn’t even stand to wait another minute. “Look, Max, here they come.”

            Polly, Martha, and the children were coming down the street all looking to be in good spirits.

            “Race ya to the train station!” Finn yelled to Max and before anyone could stop them, the young boys were sprinting down the lane.

            “Max!” Amelia called after him but there was no use.

            “They’ll be alright,” Polly assured her.

            “He hasn’t been able to stand still all morning.” Amelia laughed softly as they began to walk, Annie holding onto her hand. “I don’t even think he slept a wink.”

            “It doesn’t feel real,” Martha said, already clutching her handkerchief close, tears welling up in her eyes. “It feels like a dream.”

~~~~~~~~~ 

            There was a crowd of people swarming the train station to welcome back loved ones. Max and Finn had climbed up on a brick wall to see over everyone.

            Amelia came and gently held Max’s ankle just to make sure he didn’t topple over.

            The energy in the air was almost electric. People were chattering happily about finally getting to kiss and hug the people they’d missed for so long.

            “There’s the train!” Finn called out.

            Amelia’s heart was racing as she heard the train whistle sound from a close distance. She picked up Annie who seemed a little nervous about the crowd around her.

            “Mum, look!” Max cried as the train slowly pulled into the station. Dozens of uniformed men came spilling out of the train cars, all searching for their family and friends.

            People were calling out names and joyfully reuniting.

            Finn suddenly whooped with joy. “Arthur!” He jumped from the wall and disappeared into the crowd.

            Four years of waiting, and when Amelia heard them nearby, she began to cry.

            Tommy found Max first, rushing over to him. Max shouted with delight as he jumped into his father’s arms.

            “Daddy!”

            “Look at you, aye? Look how much you’ve grown.” The young man was overcome with melancholy.

            “Tom,” Amelia called out to him.

            His breath caught in his throat when he saw his wife standing nearby with their daughter in her arms. He came over with Max and embraced all three of them as close as he could. “I’m here, s’alright.” He whispered softly when he heard Amelia sobbing against his shoulder. “S’alright.”

            When Amelia withdrew, she tried to compose herself. “Annie, daddy’s home. Aren’t you so happy to meet him?”

            The little girl looked a bit shy when she saw the man who was in the photographs on their mantle.

            “C’mere, will you give dad a cuddle?” Tommy asked hopefully, holding out his free arm.

            Annie smiled. She appeared to recognize the voice she’d heard over the phone a month earlier. Amelia gave her to him. The little girl peered at him curiously, almost as if she was trying to see the similarities between the photograph and him standing there in real life. She touched his cheek and giggled softly.

            Tommy felt an immense relief, hugging his two children close.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

            After reuniting with the rest of the Shelbys and the other 179th boys, they all parted ways before the big dinner they were going to have together to celebrate their homecoming.

            Tommy carried Annie back home and held Max’s hand. The little boy was chattering on about all the things he could think of that Tommy missed.

            Amelia kept glancing over at her husband. It was hard to believe he was really there in the flesh. It wasn’t just another cruel dream she would wake up from. He was there for good.

            But every time she looked over at him, she noticed the subtle differences.

            He looked older, less boyish than before. Whether it was time’s doing or stress, Amelia wasn’t sure. She had a feeling she looked much older as well.

            He looked tired. Not just a lack of sleep but a deep exhaustion that settled deep in the bones. A weariness that sleep couldn’t cure.

            He walked differently. Less like a confident young man and more like a soldier.

            Maybe it would be temporary changes. Amelia could only hope that once he settled back into life in Birmingham, he’d go back to being the same old Tommy. But it was wishful thinking and even she knew that deep down.

~~~~~~~~~~

            When they got into the flat, Tommy set Annie down. She went to retrieve her teddy bear from the kitchen where she’d left it. She held it up to her father to see.

            “Look at that, aye?” He picked up the bear.

            “Mummy said you sent them to us,” Max said. “For Christmas.”

            Tommy met Amelia’s eyes. She smiled slightly although she still looked on the verge of tears. “Yeah, that’s right.” He nodded. “I gave them to Father Christmas so he’d bring them to you.”

            “Annie loves her bear, don’t you, poppet?” Amelia said softly. The little girl giggled shyly and went to cling to her mother’s skirt.

            “Well, it seems very well-loved.” Tommy knelt down to give the teddy back to her.

            Annie took the bear back and yawned. It seemed all the excitement of the day was starting to catch up with her.

            “Want to go down for a nap, love?” Amelia wondered, stooping down to pick her daughter up. Annie shrugged and rested her cheek on her mother’s shoulder, her eyelids drooping. “I think some rest will do you some good.” She murmured. “Then when we have dinner with everyone, you won’t be tired.”

            “Want me to take her up?” Tommy offered. He didn’t want to sit on the sidelines anymore. Every opportunity he could have to be a father, he would take.

            “Sure.” Amelia smiled and handed Annie over to him. “Max, want to help me make some lunch?”

            Her son looked hesitant. It appeared he wanted to stay around Tommy even if he was just going upstairs. “Okay.”

            “I’ll be right back,” Tommy promised him before heading upstairs with Annie in his arms. He got to the hallway and realized he wasn’t sure where Amelia had put Annie’s nursery.

            Max’s room was across from his and Amelia’s. There was only one other bedroom, but maybe Amelia had moved things around. Maybe she kept Max’s room as a nursery and put Annie in there, switching him over to the other room.

            Annie yawned and snapped Tommy out of his daze. He felt as if he opened the door to find he was wrong; it would hurt him deeply. Such a simple thing that he didn’t know.

            But he wasn’t going to stand there all night with a sleepy toddler in his arms. So he decided to go for the bedroom that had been empty before he left for France.

            There, he found what must’ve been his daughter’s room. There was a floral-patterned quilt on the little bed with a pink cloth doll sitting by the pillow.

            “Here we are.” Tommy pulled back the covers and set Annie down in the bed. “Got your teddy, all cozy?”

            The little girl nodded and began to drift off before her head even hit the pillow.

            Her father tucked her in, but couldn’t get himself to leave. Doing his best not to wake her, he sat on the edge of the bed. He had thought about that moment many times. The moment he finally met his daughter for the first time. To finally see the little girl that he watched grow up through sporadic pictures.

            It made him sick to his stomach to know how much he missed. He knew how much he was missing when he was in France, but finally be home, it hit him like a brick.

            She was in her own bed, not a crib. She was walking around. She was talking in sentences.

            When Max was growing up, Tommy couldn’t believe how fast time went by. One second, he was holding a newborn in his arms, the next he was watching him walk and talk. With Annie, he couldn’t even look back to remember a time before that day. Suddenly, he had this three-year-old. It was as if he had been struck with amnesia. There was nothing to remember about her before that day in 1918.

            Sure, there were stories and pictures from Amelia, but it wasn’t the same. Tommy felt cheated.

            The door to Annie’s room opened and Amelia came in. “Is she asleep?” She whispered.

            Tommy nodded.

            She noticed the torn look on his face. There was so much she wanted to say, but she wasn’t sure if any of it would be helpful. She didn’t want to talk down on him, didn’t want to act like she could fix him, or knew what he had gone through. They had all struggled, but Annie knew that at the end of the day, she had been with their children the entire time. Tommy had been robbed of all the memories that she had with Max and Annie. Yet, there was nothing Amelia could do to make it up to him.

            She knelt down in front of him and took his hands in hers. “We’ll be alright.” She said quietly so she wouldn’t wake Annie.

            Tommy didn’t say anything. It was almost as if he was looking right through her.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

            Six Watery Lane hadn’t been so alive in years. Sure, it had been filled with children, but having the Shelby boys back brought back the soul of the flat. Despite all everyone went through, at least things were somewhat back to where they were meant to be.

            A big meal was prepared and the whole house was full of chatter and laughter. Everyone felt at ease that they were all back together without any losses to mourn.

            However, whether the others noticed or not, Arthur, Tommy, and John appeared to be faking a lot of their uplifted spirits. Sure, they were thrilled to be back home. But they didn’t leave the memories of war behind the second they stepped back onto British soil. No, there would be nothing to erase those memories. Now, the three men could only pretend for the sake of their family that things were okay. Whether they could keep up the façade for much longer was proving to be a challenging question.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~           

            After dinner, when the activity began to die down and the children all became cranky from being tired, the family again parted ways. Tommy and Amelia brought Max and Annie home down the street after saying their goodbyes.

            Annie was already asleep in Amelia’s arms and Max was just about ready to doze off against Tommy’s shoulder.

            The two parents put them both to sleep before retiring to their bedroom.

            Before Tommy could even take his coat off, Amelia pulled him into a deep kiss. The whole day she’d been yearning after him but felt it wasn’t appropriate to take him away from the children or his family. So, she was patient and waited until they were alone for the night.

            It was a welcome release for Tommy who found it easy to get lost in his wife’s embrace. All day he had been battling himself. He was trying to put the horrors of war out of his mind as best he could. He wanted to put all his focus on his family. He wanted to be happy to see them. But there was that dark feeling he couldn’t shake that things wouldn’t be the same after what he’d seen.

            But Amelia gave him the outlet to completely abandon his thoughts. As she undressed him, he could only think about her fingertips brushing against him. He could only focus on the mechanics of taking off her dress. There was no space to think about the sound of shovels.

            He could only hear her soft breathing and the sound of her dress falling to the floor. 

            “I’ve missed you so much.” She whispered against his lips.

            The sound of her voice was so calming. It allowed Tommy to breathe evenly as he scooped her up and carried her to the bed.

            “I’m here now.” He replied, laying her down gently.

            “I’m all yours, Tommy.” She knotted her fingers in his hair as he hovered over her. “I always will be. Just please be all mine.”

            “I always have been.” He captured her lips again.

 ~~~~~~~~~

            Around midnight that same night, Tommy got up out of bed. He wasn’t used to having a nice bed and time to sleep. He was so accustomed to sleeping less than a few hours at a time in the damp, cold trenches.

            Now, despite having a pillow to rest his head on, he couldn’t sleep very long. His body had been trained to stay up long hours so it probably would take time to adjust.

            Amelia was still fast asleep as he slipped out from under the covers. He went to his coat that had been discarded on the floor to find his cigarette tin. Taking one out, he struck up a match to light it and sat down on the foot of the bed.

            The quiet of the flat was starting to make his mind numb. The only time things were quiet in the tunnels was when they were trying to avoid detection from the Germans. They moved stealthily along the dark passageways. Other than that, Tommy was used to the constant sound of explosives, gunfire, and men dying around him.

            The silence of the flat felt so unnatural that it made his skin crawl. He didn’t want to hear the sounds of war ever again, but at the same time, he felt as if he’d been so conditioned to it that he couldn’t stand the silence. It only allowed for his thoughts to run rampant. To allow for mental images to come up in his brain. Things he wished so desperately that he could erase from his memory.

            Then, the more his thoughts raced, the louder the sound of shovels became. The dull thumping sound continued over and over again. Louder and louder until Tommy nearly jumped out of his skin.

            They sounded so close. It sounded so real. This all had to be a dream. He wasn’t back in Birmingham with Amelia and the children. No, he was still in the tunnels. The sound of the shovels was real. The bedroom around him was merely a realistic dream.

            “Tommy?”

            The shovels faded when he heard Amelia call out to him. He was almost afraid to turn around. Maybe he would turn around and realize that it was just a cruel dream. He’d turn around and no one would be there. Then he would wake up back in the trenches.

            “Tommy, are you alright?”   

            There was a rustling of the sheets and he felt a hand on his shoulder. It felt so real. How could it feel so real with the sound of the shovels were so real too?

            “Please look at me.” She begged.

            Tommy turned and felt relief wash over him when he saw his wife kneeling behind him. She looked terribly concerned. “Sorry.” He muttered. “Just thinking.”

            “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked.

            He shook his head. “No, you can go back to sleep.”

            She didn’t move a muscle. “Tommy, I don’t want you to suffer alone. If there’s something bothering you, please, I want to try to understand. I know that there’s so much you experienced that I’ll never get. But if I can just be someone you can talk to, that would mean so much to me. I want to be there for you. I feel like that’s what a wife is supposed to be.”

            “I know.” He put his head in her lap. “I appreciate it, Mel. I just don’t know what else to tell you.”

             She gently combed his hair back. It was much longer than he usually kept it. She wondered if he would cut it in the next couple of days. “What can I do to help you?”

            “If you want to help me, don’t doubt yourself as my wife.” He closed his eyes and tried to get lost in her soothing touch.

            Amelia gently massaged his face, trying to ease the tension in his muscles. “Will you come to church with me tomorrow?”

            “I didn’t know you attended church.” He replied. A long time ago he could recall instances when she would go to Sunday service with the Shelby children. Though he couldn’t remember her parents ever being religious.

            “I’ve been going with Polly. Talking to Father Carr helped when you were away.” She explained. “Especially when I was pregnant with Annie.”

            He opened his eyes to look up at her. “I’ll go with you.” 

            She smiled. The same smile that Tommy yearned to see again. “Then maybe we can take the kids out to the park or something?”

            “Yeah, there’s a lot I’ve missed.”  

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[imnotwolverine]

The Monster’s Lair - A Belle Tune

Vampire!Henry x Belle - multi-chapter

Chapter 1 - A Belle Tune | Chap 2 >

Disclaimer: Dark adult fairytale - stalking, mild injury, angsty vibes

Author’s note: Here we go dear readers, a whole new series!! As I was setting out the plotline I kept saying to myself; “Let’s make this 3-5 chapters, a short series, okay, Wolfie?” ...Welp... Apparently I have many talents, but writing short series is not one of them. I’ve tried again and again to reshape the plot into a shorter, snappier version, but I just couldn’t. So, here goes; 12 chapters of broody vampire Henry and sweet Belle. I hope you are ready ❤️

Word count: 1.991

Reading music: Agnes Obel - Tokka 

(Link to my Masterlist)

-

It was the first day of Autumn, summer finally past, as a tale of old was sung anew.

The land was cracked open dry and dusty after months without rain, the crops starting to fail just before harvest season. It made the tensions run high amongst the town folk, their worried eyes aiming upwards. The air had been thick for days now, the clouds drifting heavy and grey on dreary skies, foreboding a long awaited storm that just wouldn’t break.

And yet, not all were worried. At this moment the morning air felt slightly cheery too, as a soft tune wove through the ancient pine tree forest that lay like a prickly blanket over the rolling hills. 

It was a familiar tune, sung by a familiar woman’s voice, her pale skin and dark braided hair a sight he saw often in these parts of the land. Before her, two mutts sniffled happily, their wet noses pushing through the fallen leaves and shrubs that covered the dry forest floor. 

From the shadows of that same thicket, he was watching her, watching her rosy lips curl up in that dreamy smile, her feet kicking her blue skirts with confident strides.

Belle, he knew her name by now, was one of the few who dared to wander so close to his grounds, his domain, her skirts rustling as she conjured a book from the depths of her pockets. Always reading. 

At first he had been somewhat surprised to see a woman of her position even owning a book, a proper book. Her father was but a poor horse handler and her family long deceased. 

But, indeed, she could read. 

With an elegant hand she brushed down her skirts before sitting down on that same fallen down tree that she used everyday; her hide-out whenever the weather allowed. Clicking her tongue she instructed her dogs to lay down, her hand flicking through the book, returning to the page where she had left off a day ago.

Away from the snarky remarks and jealous whispers of the town folk, here she could read as dawn cracked over the horizon, her presence welcomed by the listening embrace of the forest and its inhabitants. The birds quieted their song and the mice and squirrels halted their squabbling, just long enough to look and listen, bewitched beady eyes watching the pretty woman as she started to read aloud.

It was an old and leather bound rendering of Apuleius’ Cupid and Psyche, an ancient fairy tale, the book nearly falling apart as she brushed her fingertips over the yellowed, vulnerable pages. She had read it a dozen times now, and yet the monster couldn’t help but listen, his lips moving in a silent joined recital. He knew the words by heart at this point.

What exactly she did by the day time he couldn’t tell, his disposition making it impossible for him to visit town when the sun was out. And thus he would just imagine it. Perhaps she worked as one of the chambermaids for the Les Comtes. Perhaps she helped her father in the stables - he had seen the old man during the nights many a time, his rough hands being ever so gentle with the handsome beasts that belonged to the Les Comtes. In fact all was owned by the Les Comtes, the family so rich that almost all villagers worked for their estate and businesses.  

Far too soon Belle’s voice would silence again, her finger tracing the page she had ended on, memorising it before gently closing the book, her eyes looking up through the thicket of the tree branches, watching those looming clouds up above. He knew what she thought; it was going to rain and she probably couldn’t return to this spot for a long time.

After the rain would come hail, winds, winter. And as it goes with reading outside, her natural reading nook was simply not able to hide her from the elements, and, with her reading hobby sneered at by the town’s folk, this might very well be her last reading session for this year.

With a sigh she got up, calling for her dogs and making her way back to the village, long skirts kicking, her book hidden back in the depths of her pockets. Oh, how he was going to miss her. Even if it was just for a day. Here in the forest he was awaited by an eternal nothingness. No job, no destination, only empty days that wove into a long string of months, years, centuries.

Returning to the crumbling ruins of his castle, the grande structure long past its glory days, he wandered endlessly through its halls, dust collecting on items that shouldn’t ever run into such disuse. Plates, cups, the fireplace, the beds. For centuries now he could not feel the pleasure of the simplicity of life. The food ashen on his tongue. His eyes, though closed, never truly resting. His skin no longer feeling the comfort of a warm hearth. His still beating heart but a mousy whisper of its once roaring strength.

Watching those heavy clouds above the treetops, he knew that it would be long before he would get to hear her voice again. A storm was looming, the long dry spell finally coming to an end and taking with it the long awaited rains. He knew it was a necessity, the listening critters around him feeling desperate for food now winter was soon to arrive, but he couldn’t help but feel a deep disappointment all the same. Because with the dreary days would come even more dark hours for him, the last sparkle of joy ripped from his life until spring would probably come again.  

—

‘Another one dead.’ The hunter growled, heaving the dead dog’s body from his cart, the boneless heap of bled out sinew and fur unceremoniously dropping to the dusty ground. With the ongoing drought, food has become more and more scarce. Crops were failing, wild animals were roaming nearer to the village and despite their best efforts, the hunters had great difficulty to actually catch anything. Something strange was afoot in the forest and rumour was about; it was the beast!

‘So no luck then.’ Arthur said in a hushed tone, his old knees cracking as he squatted down to inspect the remains of the hound. And indeed. Neck cracked, jugular torn, the required strength for such an act belonging to no less than a bear..or beast..of sorts.

‘Twas a mad dog anyways. But still..’ The hunter squinted, looking out over the yellow grassed meadows, to the edge of the forest where that monstrous beast hid away. ‘..we must see to it. The darn thing must be done with once and ..for..’ He blinked, then looked at Arthur with mild confusion. ‘Is that Belle?’ He pointed at a figure that appeared from the tree-line, two dogs at either side of her light blue skirts.

Arthur pushed himself up with a groan and also squinted his eyes, his sight no longer what it had been. ‘If it’s a pretty thing with two mutts, a dress of blue and a smile for days, it must be Belle.’ He said, his vision too blurry to discern anything that resembled his daughter. The hunter gruntled his disapproval, though not denying that it was indeed Belle, his strong, broad shouldered frame turning back to his cart to bring out what few rabbits and pheasants he had managed to catch in his traps. ‘You ought to bring some sense in that girl, Arthur..’ He warned, bushy eyebrows frowning as he looked back at the girl, her skirts twirling as she threw a stick for the dogs to fetch.

‘She is just so very much like her mother.’ Arthur sighed, not fully agreeing with the hunter’s sentiments as his lips curled in an amused smile.

‘Tcould be the death of her, old man. The beast is out there, I know that much. In fact. There’s a meeting in the town hall by sundown, in case you wish to join.’

‘Good..good...’ Arthur nodded, only half-listening now, his eyes finally managing to focus on Belle as she kicked her legs over the wood log fence near the stables he worked, her face all smiles and skirts a muddy mess.

Oh..Belle!

--

The shutters of the barn-like town hall shuddered, the wind outside picking up and the torch flames dancing wildly in the draft. It was a busy night, the floorboards creaking as the town’s men got up from their benches to express their bewilderment and frustrations, loud “Aye’s” and “Nays” echoing in the air as the discussions roared.

Now the food reserves of the town were running low and people had to ration, the tension was near tangible. Winter was coming and the people felt as restless as the storm that was picking up outside. The pigs needed to be fed, the elderly were struggling, sickness was spreading and all fingers pointed angrily at the direction of that wicked forest. The Beast’s forest.

‘Dear people! My people!’ Old Master Le Comte stood up from the throne-like seat that was situated right at the head of the hall, his fatty fingers balancing a shiny cup of wine. He raised his hand to calm the uproar, old furrowy brows raising up to show two grey, beady eyes. ‘Say AYE and agree, that we must see to the end of this beast for once and for all. He threatens our livestock, steals our hunted bounty and his cursed evil talons bring us only disease and misfortune. This drought? I would not be surprised if it were by HIS design!’ He exclaimed.

The town roared up with enthusiasm, fists raised in the air as a loud ‘AYE’ resounded front to back. In fact only the old man Arthur sat quiet, far in the corner, thinking fingers pulling at his moustache. He had discussed the matter with Belle and all she had to say was; “It is indeed quite practical to make a simple minded animal responsible for all your sorrows. But is it right to kill it because you conjured an image of beastly proportion, fed by your own fears? From what I heard he only has killed those who came too close..far too close.” 

‘HELP HELP!! The church! A FIRE!’ The large doors of the hall swung open as a young man burst through, arms waving in despair, the discussions regarding the monster quickly forgotten as everyone made haste to stop the flames as they quickly swept around them, the simple wooden structures of the inner town feeding themselves like perfectly dried logs to the hellish bonfire.  

Arthur looked up from his daze and slowly followed the hastened crowd outside, his feet no longer so fast as he felt a sudden, surprising coolness in his neck. A wet coolness. With a question in his eyes he looked up at the darkened sky, feeling another drop on his wrinkly skin. Rain? Did the gods bless them just in time? Would all be well?

A conclusion made prematurely, as a new alarm was struck from the village’s heart.

‘THE BEAST! TIS THE BEAST!’ The loud screams came from the village square, Arthur’s attention immediately drawn back to the people that sped past him. Oh no..oh no...BELLE! She was alone, she was..

*FLUNK*

With a loud thud Arthur smacked to the ground, his eyes blinking in shock as he saw the person who had bumped into him rush passed, the silhouette of the person already fading from his vision as all he could do was claw into the dusty road, eyes seeing all black.

Oh no...he thought, his body now fading out of consciousness. Belle! She must be warned! She was all alone! The beast..Oh Belle..the beast..and...Belle...

With heavy blinking eyes he scratched and cried, trying to gain the attention of people rushing by, but failing. None could hear or see him as the storm drowned out his wails and the night hid him in unblinking dark, leaving him with little else but hope, hope that Belle’s joyful tunes would indeed not be ended at the slashing of beastly claws, like the hunter had warned him for this morning.

Oh Belle, dear Belle..

--

Chap 2 >

--

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[salenakingston]

Mystery March Day 9 - Trapped

Darkness claimed everything in this cave, or at least that was the case now. The eerie glow of green, with its accompanying fog had faded away. Nothing else remained save for the outline of stone. The constant sound of water dripping down from the ceiling could be heard not too far away… or was that something else dripping?

Then something happened.

Purple began to bleed into the darkness, forcing it away. Its light began to shimmer off the stalagmites jutting from the cave’s floor, mixing with pools of deep red. Like a corruption, the light tore at every surface around it. No rock face was safe from it, crawling its way from a source, pulling itself towards the entrance of the maw.

He pushed himself up, gazing around the sea of sharp points. For a moment, his memory was a foggy mess. How had he gotten down here again? Oh right, he fell.

When he looked up, he could see the safe cliff edge he had fallen from. No one remained there now, but there was no real good way to tell how long he had been out for. As far as he knew, that was nothing surprising. Still, it made his mind race over the events that had taken place. If everything was a bit jumbled from him being out, then best to get the timeline back in order.

The four of them had come into the cave, two inquisitive and eager to investigate while the other two were on edge. The former two didn’t seem to pay much heed to the smarter ones, all of them pressing deeper and deeper into a sea of green.

At one point, there was a fork in the path, the same split he came to now. He must not have realized he had begun to move while he was lost in thought. Well, it wasn’t hard to follow the few slats of wood encased in stone along the edges. Wouldn’t be of much use if they were just left on the floor to rot.

Like something else here.

Where was he again? Right…

Two went along the upper path, and two went down the lower one. It was them, those that chose to go up instead of down that caused everything to spiral out of control. Twisted grin, tears, screaming, the sound of flesh being torn apart, blood. Cries of pain rang out, echoing off the walls until there was nothing but still silence. Death hung over the floors.

And now he was trapped. Still in the living world, just taken a new form.

Where confusion once lingered, anger began to take over. None of this was supposed to happen. Why him? Everything was going so smoothly, nothing to worry about, and then it all fell apart in front of him.

Blonde… Arthur…

It all started with him. It had to be him didn’t it? Always the perfect little pawn for these sorts of situations, always the coward hiding behind others. Always the one getting into trouble. Danger seemed to cling to him, or rather guide him along the path he called his life. Now another life had been taken by his hand, quite literally, and he paid the price. The blond didn’t have the strength on his own.

He remembered the screams, even after he had fallen. Before everything grew dark.

There was no place for him here anymore.

He had to find Arthur, it was the only way to undo what had been done to him. Anger over one person was a bit hard to get under control, but also added fuel to that base desire. It seemed to be all that mattered. A growl echoed through the passage, the moon of the night sky becoming visible now that he had come to the entrance of the cave. It was night when they all came here too.

Had time even really passed at all?

A sound drew his attention forward. Slipping out of the entrance, he paused behind a collection of rocks. He shouldn’t have been worried about anything else coming here. What reason would there be for such an act? Peeking over the top, he could see what looked like a tiny white tree. There were pink blossoms among the leaves, roots blue. That was worrisome.

And it only confirmed his suspicion when the upper half of her head popped out of the ground. No reason to stick around here anymore.

He took off, eye narrowing. Being trapped in this limb was humiliating. He had to find him. Find Arthur and the damn mutt.

They had to pay.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I think the second half of this book is my best work yet. I know I always say this and that’s bc I’m always getting better -Danny

Words: 4,073

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Twenty: St. Mungo's.

At five in the morning the mood hadn't changed much in the room, Fred had fallen asleep on her shoulder, George and Ginny were across, staring intently at some point on the wall, Ron kept his face hidden behind his hands.

Harry and Sirius would look around the room with a lost air, unsure of what their part in this whole thing was. Mel and her mother had the same worried expression, none of them was known to be patient, but they didn't have a choice, they were all waiting...

Mel was worried about Mr Weasley, but she was also worried about her uncle back in the castle, about Umbridge and how she'd react to the missing Gryffindor students... She was also worried about Erick, all alone and having to deal with the death of the man he'd admired his whole life.

That was all Mel could feel at its fullest lately, no happiness was lasting, no bliss was ever-present. Mel was in a constant state of worry and distress, part of it because of her own trauma, and because all around her there was simply no safe place where to hold on to.

Mrs Weasley came rushing through the door. Mel stared at the woman, trying to find any hints of the possible news. She didn't have to wait for long, though.

"He's going to be all right," The woman said. "He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now, he's going to take the morning off work."

Fred sat back beside her with heaviness, Mel pulled him closer with one arm and hugged him sideways, George and Ginny stood up and hugged their mother tightly. Ron finished his butterbeer, his usual colour slowly going back to his face.

"Breakfast!" said Sirius, standing up with newfound energy. "Where's that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER! Oh, forget it, then. So it's breakfast for — let's see — nine... Bacon and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast —"

Harry got up swiftly and walked over to the stove, clearly wanting to be of use in a room where he felt he had no place to take. He was wrong. Mrs Weasley made her way to the boy and took the plates out of his hands, encasing him in a fierce hug.

"I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you, Harry. They might not have found Arthur for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you he's alive and Dumbledore's been able to think up a good cover story for Arthur being where he was, you've no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Sturgis..."

Before Harry had a chance to reply, she let him go and turned to Sirius and Emily.

"Oh, I'm so grateful... They think he'll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer... Of course, that might mean we're here for Christmas..."

"The more the merrier!" Sirius smiled openly at the woman. Emily nodded in agreement.

Mel knew Sirius loathed having to spend all his time inside the house, even with the company of Emily it surely was annoying, having nothing to do given the circumstances of his life.

"Sirius," Harry moved closer to the man and whispered something Mel couldn't quite hear.

Sirius gave the boy a funny look and followed him to the pantry. Mel felt the irresistible need to follow them as well, but she figured, whatever Harry wanted to talk about in private was not her business, not anymore. That much she'd said to him a few hours ago.

Fred stirred in his place and finally moved away from her grip, hastily cleaning his face before anyone could notice, Mel pretended not to see for his benefit.

"I'm going to help my mum with breakfast," She told him. "I'm happy your dad's well."

Fred nodded, half-listening to the girl. When she moved over to get something out of a shelf, she listened to Harry's voice coming from the little room next to her.

"Sirius, I... I think I'm going mad... Back in Dumbledore's office, just before we took the Portkey... for a couple of seconds there I thought I was a snake, I felt like one — my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore — Sirius, I wanted to attack him —"

"It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that's all. You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and —"

"It wasn't that. It was like something rose up inside me, like there's a snake inside me —"

Dumbledore's words felt heavier than before, if Harry was truly affected by some kind of dark magic... it reminded her when Ginny started to act strange, when she'd been...

"Possessed," Mel whispered.

The door to the pantry opened abruptly and Sirius walked out of it causing her to jump, Mel directed herself to the stove, doing her best to not look back to where she knew Harry was currently standing.

She listened to Ginny's slow breathing unable to fall asleep. Her mind was replaying every moment of the last few months after the third task, trying to see if there were any hints that could point to a possession.

Mel thought hard about every time she had touched the boy, which to be fair, wasn't that many. Harry was acting up more often, that much was true, but who wouldn't after the hell he'd been through? Everyone had a limit, and Harry's got surpassed by a wide difference.

She didn't want to think about this, but she couldn't ignore it, not when it could lead to some of her friends getting hurt. It wasn't that she didn't trust Harry, but once again, Ginny was absolutely trustworthy and yet she'd petrified Hermione without meaning to. It could've ended worse if it weren't because Hermione got the answer on time.

When it finally was time for lunch Mel followed everyone downstairs with very little energy. No one but Harry seemed to notice, and that only because he too hadn't slept. Mel was once again torn between her duty and her personal interests. On one side, she felt she owed to her uncle to pay close attention, but that meant staying as close as possible, and that was something she didn't want to do.

Maybe it wasn't about being close physically, maybe she just had to get closer to his head. That one she could do without having to spend time with him. Legilimency and Occlumency.

That afternoon they were meant to visit Mr Weasley, the trip could be useful, she could stand next to Harry and try to perceive if his energy had changed. It was hard work, and she couldn't fully trust in the little trick, but right now that was all she had.

An hour later and an awkward train ride with Tonks and Moody, she found herself entering 'ST. Mungo's hospital for magical maladies and injuries' through the glass of what appeared to be an abandoned department store.

The things Mel saw in the waiting room were certified to give her nightmares, or at least, very peculiar fever dreams. A group of wizards and witches were walking around the rows of people writing down things on clipboards and asking questions about their symptoms. Beside her, she heard Harry asked Ron if those were doctors.

"Doctors?" Ron asked in a tone of bewilderment. "Those Muggle nutters that cut people up? Nah, they're Healers."

"Hey, they're not nutters!" Mel argued. "Muggles can't heal each other magically, they had to find their own solutions..."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron rolled her eyes. "Look, mum's there!"

"Over here!" Mrs Weasley called from the line where she was standing.

Behind the desk, she saw the portrait of Dilys, the witch that was also inside Dumbledore's office. Mel timidly waved at her, the witch did a quick count to make sure all the Weasleys were there along with Harry and Mel and she discretely returned Mel's greeting, disappearing from her portrait right after that.

"It's these — ouch — shoes my brother gave me — ow!" A man at the front of the line caught her attention. "— they're eating my — OUCH — feet — look at them, there must be some kind of — AARGH — jinx on them and I can't — AAAAARGH — get them off —"

"The shoes don't prevent you reading, do they?" said the witch at the front desk. "You want Spell Damage, fourth floor. Just like it says on the floor guide. Next!"

Two more people went before them, one worried father holding a little girl by the ankle, with fluffy white wings coming out of her back, and one man that was there looking for a wizard that apparently was confused to the point he was sure he was a teapot.

"Hello," Mrs Weasley said when they arrived at the front. "My husband, Arthur Weasley, was supposed to be moved to a different ward this morning, could you tell us — ?"

"Arthur Weasley? Yes, first floor, second door on the right, Dai Llewellyn ward."

"Thank you. Come on, you lot."

They followed through the halls and Mel continued to look around curiously, she probably had a funny dreamy look on her face, because Ron nudged her side, smirking.

"What now, you're adding 'Healer' to the list of jobs you want when you grow up?"

Mel snorted.

"No! Didn't you see all the crazy things happening in the waiting room? I wouldn't get used to that! I'm afraid that even though I've spent years as a witch now, at heart I'm still a muggle."

"Give it time, Lady," George replied. "It's been like what, four years? You won't even remember your life without magic after a decade living like a witch."

For some reason, that made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She loved being a witch, but her muggle life wasn't something she wanted to forget, especially when it had been the best years of her friendship with Harry...

Why did her mind insist on bringing Harry to every discussion?

"We'll wait outside, Molly," Tonks said. "Arthur won't want too many visitors at once... It ought to be just the family first."

Harry and Mel immediately stepped back, but Mrs Weasley reached out to get Harry and the twins grabbed her by the arms, pulling her along.

"Don't be silly, Harry, Arthur wants to thank you..."

"And there's no way you're staying behind," Fred said playfully. "Dad would love to see her daughter-in-law..."

"If you keep saying that you'll end up believing it," Mel warned him.

"I bet my parents would rather have you as a daughter instead of this bad copy of me," George teased.

"Who are you calling a copy, you idiot?" Fred reached to hit his brother, but George hid behind her. "Everyone knows I'm more attractive than you!"

"You two stop fighting!" Mrs Weasley hissed. "This is a hospital room! Please act your age!"

The three of them stopped, trembling with contained laughter as they reached Mr Weasley's bed.

"Hello!" The man called happily. "Bill just left, Molly, had to get back to work, but he says he'll drop in on you later..."

"How are you, Arthur? You're still looking a bit peaky..."

"I feel absolutely fine, if they could only take the bandages off, I'd be fit to go home."

"Why can't they take them off, Dad?" asked Fred.

"Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try," Mr Weasley reached for his wand, and with one wave he conjured a couple of chairs for them to sit on. "It seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snake's fangs that keeps wounds open... They're sure they'll find an antidote, though, they say they've had much worse cases than mine, and in the meantime, I just have to keep taking a Blood-Replenishing Potion every hour. But that fellow over there," He lowered his voice and pointed to the man in front of them. "Bitten by a werewolf, poor chap. No cure at all."

"A werewolf?" Mrs Weasley turned to look at the man with wide eyes. "Is he safe in a public ward? Shouldn't he be in a private room?"

"It's two weeks till full moon. They've been talking to him this morning, the Healers, you know, trying to persuade him he'll be able to lead an almost normal life. I said to him — didn't mention names, of course — but I said I knew a werewolf personally, very nice man, who finds the condition quite easy to manage..."

"What did he say?" asked George.

"Said he'd give me another bite if I didn't shut up. And that woman over there won't tell the Healers what bit her, which makes us all think it must have been something she was handling illegally. Whatever it was took a real chunk out of her leg, very nasty smell when they take off the dressings."

Mel's eyes stayed on the man laying ahead of them. The newborn werewolf, a man who was probably completely fine before being bitten. Was it really two weeks before the full moon? That wasn't ideal, she wanted to see her uncle, she was missing him lots already, and having half a week wasted because of his condition made her feel terribly for him.

"So, you going to tell us what happened, Dad?" asked Fred.

"Well, you already know, don't you? It's very simple — I'd had a very long day, dozed off, got sneaked up on, and bitten."

"Is it in the Prophet, you being attacked?" asked Fred.

"No, of course not, the Ministry wouldn't want everyone to know a dirty great serpent got —"

"Arthur!" said Mrs Weasley.

"— got — er — me," Mr Weasley finished.

"So where were you when it happened, Dad?" asked George.

"That's my business," said Mr Weasley calmly, "I was just reading about Willy Widdershins's arrest when you arrived. You know Willy turned out to be behind those regurgitating toilets last summer? One of his jinxes backfired, the toilet exploded, and they found him lying unconscious in the wreckage covered from head to foot in —"

"When you say you were 'on duty,'" Fred interrupted in a low voice, "what were you doing?"

"You heard your father," Mrs Weasley hissed, "we are not discussing this here! Go on about Willy Widdershins, Arthur —"

"Well, don't ask me how, but he actually got off on the toilet charge. I can only suppose gold changed hands —"

"You were guarding it, weren't you?" said George eagerly. "The weapon? The thing You-Know-Who's after?"

"George, be quiet!"

"Anyway," Mr Weasley continued like he hadn't been interrupted, "this time Willy's been caught selling biting doorknobs to Muggles, and I don't think he'll be able to worm his way out of it because according to this article, two Muggles have lost fingers and are now in St. Mungo's for emergency bone regrowth and memory modification. Just think of it, Muggles in St. Mungo's! I wonder which ward they're in?"

"Didn't you say You-Know-Who's got a snake, Harry?" asked Fred, glancing at his father anxiously. "A massive one? You saw it the night he returned, didn't you?"

"There's no need to talk about that night," Mel said roughly. The tone she used was enough to quiet the twin, but Mrs Weasley added more to it.

"That's enough! Mad-Eye and Tonks are outside, Arthur, they want to come and see you. And you lot can wait outside. You can come and say good-bye afterwards. Go on..."

Mel stood up and wished Mr Weasley as fast recovery, then she followed the rest of her friends back outside. Moody and Tonks went in, Fred spoke up.

"Fine, be like that. Don't tell us anything."

"Looking for these?" said George, holding out the extendable ears.

"You read my mind," Fred grinned. "Let's see if St. Mungo's puts Imperturbable Charms on its ward doors, shall we?"

They gave everyone an extendable ear, Harry's hand stopped midway, hesitant to follow through.

"Go on, Harry, take it! You saved Dad's life, if anyone's got the right to eavesdrop on him it's you..." George insisted.

"Okay, go!" Fred whispered once they were all seated.

"...they searched the whole area but they couldn't find the snake anywhere," She heard Tonks voice, "it just seems to have vanished after it attacked you, Arthur... But You-Know-Who can't have expected a snake to get in, can he?"

"I reckon he sent it as a lookout," Moody replied, " 'cause he's not had any luck so far, has he? No, I reckon he's trying to get a clearer picture of what he's facing and if Arthur hadn't been there the beast would've had much more time to look around. So Potter says he saw it all happen?"

"Yes," said Mrs Weasley. "You know, Dumbledore seems almost to have been waiting for Harry to see something like this..."

"Yeah, well," said Moody, "there's something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that."

"Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning," whispered Mrs Weasley. "He said Mel used legilimency and found nothing unusual, but he's not so sure."

"Legilimency?" Moody said in a tone of mild surprise. "A fifteen-year-old having control over that kind of magic? No wonder why You-Know-Who wants her on his side!"

Mel gasped and Ron was quick to cover her mouth. So that was it then, Voldemort didn't want to kill her, he wanted to use her.

"...The boy's seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake... Obviously, Potter doesn't realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing him —"

Harry jumped back, dropping the extendable ear and looking at his friends with wide eyes. Mel kept her gaze fixed on the door.

She wanted nothing else than to follow Harry's lead and hide in her room for the rest of the day, but as soon as she set a foot on the entrance hall, Ron caught her wrist and pulled her towards the twins' room, quickly followed by the rest of the young Weasleys.

"What?" She asked, though she already knew.

"You know what's going on," Ron said. "You knew Harry was ill before Neville had left the room, and you knew Umbridge was hurting him. Not only that, but you had the same bruises as Harry on the back of your hand!"

"How..?"

"Hermione saw it one day while you were still asleep," Ron confessed. "You have to tell us what's going on."

"I don't have the answers," She said tensely. "I can't tell if what they're saying it's true, I don't know if Harry's possessed."

"But you can tell other things, can't you?" Her friend insisted. "Last June, you had the same injuries as him in your arm, only that yours were bruises..."

She looked at the twins and Ginny, they were all staring at her. Now was as good as any other day, Harry didn't care about her telling them, but she had to be careful. Mel sat down on Fred's bed and told them everything.

Well, not everything. She began her story on the night of the third task, when the thin wall dividing her lifeline from Harry's broke apart. It was simple, really. They had been through so many near-death experiences together that the magic in their souls had merged, creating their strange connection.

Dumbledore had called it survival instincts, Harry's mind would look for her whenever he felt in danger, whether he wanted to or not. Not only that, but they were able to lend a bit of vital energy to each other if they were lacking some in a crucial moment.

The Weasleys listened with their mouths wide open, Ginny kept biting her nails, Ron looked awfully confused and would look at her and then the floor as if he could see Harry through it.

"That's why we fought," She said. "Harry doesn't want to force me to feel his pain. He thought that distance would help but I don't think we'll ever go back to normal. It didn't use to be this strong but ever since he fought Voldemort I feel more things now... I see more."

"But..." Ron frowned, trying to gather his thoughts. "But it's not you in his body, right? Or Harry in your body?"

"No..." Mel hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "I stay in my body and he stays in his. I just... it's like dreaming. You feel things, but as soon as you wake up, it goes away."

"But you've been hurt before," Fred frowned. "Ron said it just now, you get bruises, and last night when we got here, your nose was bleeding—"

"Those were my fault—" She started, but Fred shook his head in disbelief.

"How's that your fault?"

"The bruises happened because I didn't ground myself," Mel said. "Harry was going through a lot... he was dying. I had to give in a little so he could come back. I had to let him take whatever he needed..."

Her friends gave her eery looks, she let out a tired sigh.

"I know how it sounds, but I promise this is not hurting me more than it hurts him. This thing goes both ways, if I were the one hurting, Harry would feel everything. He... he would've done the same for me. You know he would."

No one talked against her, still, Ron had lots of questions.

"What about last night?"

"Last night," Mel look down, fidgeting at the idea of having felt something else than just Harry, but not wanting to scare her friends. "I was weak– I used legilimency for the first time, it drained me. I couldn't push Harry's feelings away, I just buried them inside. Which was a mistake."

"What does that mean?" Ginny asked. "If... if it turns out he's possessed, what will that do to you?"

"He can't be," Mel sentenced, but her voice broke at the end.

"Have you felt anything strange?"

"I just feel Harry, even if he were struggling with something, I doubt I'd feel it. I only feel the things that belong to his soul."

"I don't get it," George frowned. "You saved his life last June and he blames you for the connection?"

"He doesn't blame her," Ginny rolled her eyes. "Harry's scared for her. You'd be terrified too if your best friend gets hurt every time you do. Harry probably freaked out when he found out he'd taken a bit of Mel's life. That sounds awful... But he would've done the same for you, and it was your choice anyway, I think you were brave for doing so."

"Maybe if you talk to Harry he'll understand," Ron offered.

Mel let out a bitter laugh.

"I've tried. As soon as he told me his idea— I've tried to tell him that this is not his fault. The best we can do is just ignore it and try to live normal lives."

"I don't think it'll fix it," Fred replied. "Things don't usually go away like that."

" I'm not saying I'll ignore it if he's in danger, you saw it last night, I was the first to arrive and help him. I like my new life, I like having more friends and I can't help but think that maybe..."

She stopped before saying 'I don't need him anymore', realizing it was something horrible to say.

"Maybe what?" Ron asked sharply, probably guessing what she wanted to say.

"Maybe it's time I stop treating Harry like a child and let him deal with this on his own. He keeps saying he can do it, so maybe I should listen."

"What if he can't, though?" Ginny asked. "What if they're right and... and he's..."

Mel got up. "I'm tired... can we please leave it?"

"But—"

"Sure," Fred stood up as well. "C'mon, we should help mum and Emily downstairs."

He shared one significant look with Mel, she wondered if he'd gotten a new revelation with this. Maybe he understood there was more to their agreement than just her wanting to get over a crush.

It was about wanting to escape from the constant reminder of being tied to someone against her will, someone who didn't want her around.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual

[sirsharp-a]

Tell Me a Story. ❜

Summary:  He could see her in a way that she wasn't comfortable with--  could undress her soul like he could his women.

Trigger warnings:  Implied physical abuse/assault, power abuse.

Drabble 1 / 10.

    “Tell me a story.”

    The hand that was wiping down a table paused, ocean eyes swivelling until they could rest on her superior.  He was busy dusting behind the counter, meticulous as always, his focus anywhere but on her.

     “I’m sorry?”

     “It’s been a long day.  I’m bored.  Talk to me,”   he said, voice light, distracted.  Somehow, it filled the space, made her realise that they were alone.  Was it intentional?  She didn’t know.  Before she could ask:   “Don’t pretend you care about wiping down tables, Miss.Adler.  I know this job bores you to tears.  You could use the conversation too.”

    Consideration creased her brow for a moment.   "What kind of story?"

     "I don't mind."

     Suddenly, she felt as if there was a lot of pressure on her.  Edgar, by all accounts, was a sophisticated man with plenty of stories of his own.  Though she felt little need to impress him, his spotlight burned.  What exactly does one say to a man who’s heard it all?

    "Um…  Well…"   The scout racked her brain quickly, eyes locked onto his back as he worked.  She would have done unspeakable things to feel even an ounce of his confidence.  Stress never seemed to touch him like it did her.   "I suppose…  when I was in my old-old creed…"

     His ears suddenly stood up straight, and what alertness had been missing before was definitely present then.  After a moment's pause,  Edgar turned to face her, rag forgotten as his hands curled around the lip of the bar.  He leaned against it a little, a brow raised inquisitively.

    "You never speak about where you're from.  I've been trying to pry it out of you for years."

     "Shut up and listen,"   she scolded, hopping up onto the table she’d previously been cleaning.  His eyes subtly followed the curve of her legs as she draped one over the other, arms crossing over her chest.   “Back in my old-old creed--”

     “Just one question before you continue!”

     Grace groaned dramatically.   “What?!   You’re making me not want to continue!”

     “Hehe,”   he trilled.   “By ‘old-old’, you mean that you’ve been in two separate creeds before mine?”

     “... yes,”   she replied after some amount of thought.  There was no way to take back the tidbit that she’d unwittingly bestowed him with at this point.  Somewhat sourly:   “May I speak now?”

    “You may,”   he  retorted, offering her the floor with a wide, theatrical sweep of one arm.  After a brief roll of her eyes, she continued.

     “My Alpha was a reckless fool.  He was strong, like no other Alpha I’ve seen, but he was selfish and careless.  Mean, too.  The kind of person who enjoyed throwing his weight around.  You know the type?”

     “Yes, I know Arthur.”

     “Hm.”   She tilted her head for a moment, seemingly torn between saying something and remaining quiet.   “... yes, I suppose that’s a fair comparison.  But he was even more of a brute, if you can believe that.”

     “I find it difficult, but you don’t seem the type to needlessly embellish stories.”

     "He used to make his own fight each other.  He'd make us pick sticks;  the two with the shortest draws would be forced to brawl in the centre of the circle until he was satisfied.  We lost a couple of members because of that, but it didn't faze him that much.  He tried to make it out like it was a sporting event;  some sort of morale boost or something.  We knew better though.  He was just always itching for a punch-out."

     She shifted, feeling the ice in his gaze spreading through her.  He could see her in a way that she wasn't comfortable with--  could undress her soul like he could his women.

    I don't like feeling naked in front of you.  It's disgusting.

   "... one time, it was me that drew one of the short ones.  I wasn't worried about it,  but I didn't want to fight my comrades."

     "You disagreed with him openly,"   Edgar said with a nod, listening to her scoff as if he'd predicted that too.

     "Of course I did,"   she muttered ruefully.   "I knew it was stupid.  This brazen display of in-fighting was such a huge waste of time.  It proved nothing.  It created rifts between members.  We lost people for it.  We could have been hunting, or seizing new turf, or growing as a group.  Instead, we were killing ourselves.  I couldn't keep my mouth shut.  I turned around and told him that I wouldn't fight--  that he couldn't make me strike my own."

     "So you've always been like this…"   

     "Yes.  And I will stay like this.  I don't elect somebody into power just to have them behave like a spoiled idiot,"   she replied spitefully, internally urging his eyes away from her.  Whatever he thought he had on her, he didn't.  She wasn't willing to let him see what resided in her heart--  not unless he earned it, which she wasn't convinced he could do.

    I don't need an Alpha.     I don't need anyone.     Least of all you.

    "So let me guess,"   Edgar spoke up, retrieving a shot glass from behind the bar.  A bottle of whiskey followed, posture straightening as he crossed the distance to her table.  He noticed her gaze lock onto his hands as he poured a shot.  For a short while, it hovered between them, before he offered it to her.   "You rose up above the ranks.  He met his match.  Hence why you don't put too much stock into what Alphas say."

     Her eyes blazed as she accepted the glass, downing the contents all at once without so much as a flinch.  Then, she laughed.  It was a terse little sound, more bile than sunshine.

    "Did he hell,"   she murmured gravely, a bitter smile shaping her lips.   "He punched me.  He punched me so hard that I fell over and didn't get back up.  Like an idiot."

     "Oh."   Given what little he knew about Grace, he hadn't expected her to tell him something so…  revealing.  She prided herself on appearing tough, untouchable even, and though he knew that she wasn't, she sold the image well.  He grimaced slightly, head canting slightly in an expression of pity.   "...  this story is somewhat depressing, Miss. Adler."

     "You said you didn't mind what kind of story it was."

     "That I did,"   he conceded, the neck of the whiskey bottle spun in his fingers.   "... is there at least a moral there?"

     "Of course there is,"   replied the scout, reaching out and plucking the whiskey out of his hands.  After taking a sip of it, she fed it between her knees, her hand idly stroking along its neck as she searched his face.  He seemed taken by the movement of her fingers while she remained silent.   "I learned that sometimes, you can be right and still lose.  You can stand up for what you believe in, you can put everything on the line for your integrity because you're certain that you'll come out on top, and then you just don't.  You can do everything correctly and still wind up the fool.  But that doesn't mean that you shouldn't defend your principles.  If anything, it should make you fight harder."

    "You got all that from being punched in the face…?"  Edgar asked, vaguely impressed.   "The way your mind works is most admirable, but it eludes me still."

    "I'm not a Rubik’s Cube, Mr.Strahv.  You don't need to solve me."

     "And yet, I feel you've shown me one of your faces."

     A silence hung between them, one oddly charged and passionate in spite of her disdain for his status.  She didn't want him to look at her as if he didn't think similarly to that foolish man.

     You're an Alpha.  That's what Alphas do.

     "Either way,"   she quipped, a smug quality creasing her lips;  just barely a smirk, as if she was trying oh-so hard to hold it back.   "He got what he deserved in the end."

     "Oh?"

     "Mhm.  His bullshit eventually wound him up dead.  He bit off more than he could chew, finally, and paid the ultimate price for it."   She would have been even more smug had she not possessed the knowledge that they had all paid for it too. 

     Don't think about Nyx.      Do not  speak  about Nyx.      It didn't happen.  It didn't happen, it didn't happen, it didn't happen--

    "Well, good riddance!"   Edgar exclaimed, a hearty guffaw offered in return for her divulgence.   "I suppose, in the end, you did win.  It just took a while."

     "Maybe…"   But now she was distracted.  Her mind was wandering, upturning stones that were best left stationary.  The way her Alpha had perished was embarrassing to say the least;  one might have expected it to be some epic battle, two powerful creatures locked in a hateful tango until one of them finally emerged victorious.  Instead, he'd charged into the proverbial ring like a bull and been subsequently knocked off of his feet, the jaws around his neck squeezing tight until his throat had exploded like a juice box that had been stamped on.  Near instant, akin to a threatening wildfire being put out with one solitary bucket of water--  a fitting death for such a lacklustre leader

     "He was wrong, you know."

     Slowly, Grace tilted her head upwards, her eyes finding his in the low light.  An ear flicked, her hesitation plain.

     "Huh?"

     "The way he was acting, it belonged to that of a burden, not a supposed leader.  You were right to be angry with him.  Even if you didn't come out on top that time, I respect your principles.  You have a good head on your shoulders."   He watched her keenly, noted the slight changes in her expression.  The twitch of her lips;  the slight crease that had formed in her brow.

     In a voice like oncoming thunder:   "You respect it until it's you."

     A soft laugh left her leader, his head shaking.   "No.  I would hope that you would speak up if I was acting that stupidly.  It is unbecoming of a man to speak with his fists."   He thought about it for a moment, then tilted his head slightly:   "…  unbecoming of anyone, actually.  I would express the same disappointment in a woman, too."

     "...I didn't expect such sound logic,"   Grace admitted.  The woman popped the cap off of the whiskey once more, the lip of the bottle pressed tenderly against her lips.  The smell entered her long before the taste did, thoughtful eyes only sparking to life when alcohol finally touched her tongue.  After a single swallow, she put it aside.   “Well.  That’s my story.”

     “You have quite a way with words,”   Edgar replied.   “And you can hold your drink.  You’re a woman after my own heart.”

     “I’m after nothing from you,”   she uttered, an impossible mix of defiance and playfulness burning in her eyes as she stared up at him.  Her lips curled into a smirk. “Besides.  I can’t go after what you don’t have.”