#how we feelin bout the letter people

[an-ecu-harrypotter-au]

TPS Part 3: A Boy And His Frog

"Cousin Samsahn!"

"Cousin Travis. So good ta see ya after all this time. Happy ya wanted us ta board wit ya."

"Glad to have you and yooehr sahn live with us." 

Ah look round the forest as Pop talks ta a man wit a red beard. Ah think it’s Uncle Travis but Ah ain’t gonna interrupt Pop while he’s talkin. Uncle Travis might be mean an yell at me.

"Come on inside and set yooehr bags down."

“Awright Toby le’s go an get settled in.”

“Ok Pop.”

Ah follow Pop inside an get settled inta Uncle Travis' homestead. Ah see a pond wit froggies an toadies on mah way in, but Ah don’t wanna mess wit ‘em jus yet.

"Cousins!"

Ah see a couple a lil kids comin runnin up ta us an Ah get all scared.

"Whoa dere! You need to be careful with Toby. 'e spooks easily."

"Dang Ah shoulda tol ya more bout Toby's sitiation Cousin Travis."

"Ah don't whrry about it Samsahn. Kids 'ere are always bounceng avf de walls. You need to keep remendeng dem to slow down."

"Shrry dad. We'll be mhre careful."

Uncle Travis pats the two boys on the head. Ah'm realizin they're twins.

"Dese are my twins Seamus and Patrick. Dey're only 7."

Ah wave at 'em an Ah see a woman wit blonde come in.

"Cousin Samsahn this is my wife, Nhrah."

Pop hugs 'er an Ah think she looks nice.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Cousin Samsahn."

"Yeah yer husband sure done tol me a lot bout ya in his letters. We'll get ta talkin once we's get unpacked. Come on Toby, we gotta find get sitiated."

"Ok, Pop."

Time Skip

Bout a week passed an Ah’m startin ta like it here in Ireland. Things ain’t exactly like Florida but everythang’s been yummy so far. 

“Toby. Time ta wake up son.”

“Mornin Pop.”

Ah wake up feelin thirsty so Ah head into the kitchen fer some sweet tea. Pop’s been teachin Uncle Travis how ta make it cause he done knows we drink a lotta it in Florida. Suddenly, Ah hear laughter from out front.

“Toby! Toby!”

Ah go outside ta see Patrick down by a pond. Ah wonder wha he found so Ah get down real close.

“Oi foun’ a green frog, cousin. Didn’t yer say yer needed a pet ter go ter 'ogwarts?”

Ah ain’t been here long nough ta understand Irish people but Ah see a lil froggie poke its lil head out the water.

“Thanks, cousin! C'mere lil guy.”

Ah cup mah hands an the froggie actually jumps right inta mah hands. Patrick looks amazed Ah did it as Ah study the froggie's cute lil legs.

“Yer shud name 'imself Trevor. 'e’s part av our big family nigh.”

“Trevor. Tha’s a good name, cousin.”

A smile spreads across mah face.

“Ah’mma take this froggie ta Pop. Thanks!”

Ah bring ‘em ta see Pop. He’s lookin all ‘mazed at me.

“You’s must be usin magic son. Trevor ain’t been movin outta yer hands. It’s like ya got an understandin wit him even though he don’t know no English.”

“He’s so cool. An cute. So Ah get ta take Trevor to Hogwarts with me?”

“Course ya can son.”

Ah start wigglin wit mah froggie in mah hands.

“We’s gonna be gettin everythang fer Trevor an yer schoolin tomorrow. Go an ask Uncle Travis fer a bowl ya can put him in.”

Ah head back outside to search fer a bowl. After a short while, Ah find Uncle Travis on the front porch.

“Uncle Travis! Ah’ve got me a froggie an Ah need a bowl fer it.”

“Just go and get a bowl from de sink, boy. Patrick did a great job fendeng a pet fhr you.”

Ah go inside an find an old bowl ta put Trevor in. Ah bring him back ta the front porch an show him ta Uncle Travis.

“Here he is, Uncle Travis. This’ Trevor. He’s gonna be comin’ wit me ta Hogwarts an Ah’ll even make 'em a bowl a sweet tea so’s he’ll be a lil more at home. Pop done said Trevor don’t know no English yet but Ah think Trevor understands a little bit. Maybe ya can teach him some English."

"Dat frog's only got eyes fhr you, boy. I don't think I'll be able to get him to understand anyt'eng I say.”

“Well, maybe ya could start by croakin like a frog. That’d make Trevor feel real welcome, now.“ 

Uncle Travis laughs an does a lil imitation croakin’ noise. Trevor blinks his cute little green froggie eyes an blinks his weird froggie eyelids a couple times.

"Yer gonna be mah best friend Trevor.”

“Toby come an get yer eats!”

Ah hear mah Pop hollerin an look at mah froggie again.

“Awright Trevor, we’s goin inside now. Comin Pop!”

Tagging: @arrolyn1114, @nemos-rapture, @xanatenshi, @briefpandatimemachine, @hooked-on-elvis, @vintagepresley, @aliengoth3, @smokeymountainboy, @bigdaddyelvislover, @mercsandmonsters, @pledgingmylovee, @presleysgirl6, and @thetaoofzoe.

[yayforocs]

Tape #5

((This one was written for an rp split-off that I and the muns for Aron's friend group had for a bit, so it's not canon at all to the rest of her sectorbrine lore stuff, but I wanna include it here anyway :V))

--

Click.

Paper crinkling as if it is being folded, unfolded, and folded again.

“Ok ok ok, I-” Unfolded. “I’ve- I’ve been here for several months now, and-” Folded. “And I got- I-” Unfolded, and a slight pause followed by a breath of an excited laugh. “I got a letter. An- An actual letter from- from Josiah. He was talkin’ about how everybody back home was doin’, sayin’ that they all missed me and were worried ‘bout how I was doin’ ‘n such, an’-” Folded. “I- I’ve never gotten a letter before. I-I mean, there was- there was no reason for us to be sendin’ each other letters back home, an’- an’ I didn’t know anybody else outside of town, so- so I never got one, this is- this is the first letter I ever got.”

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna write a reply soon, but- I’m tryin’ to think of what to write about. I’m definitely not talkin’ about the-” Pause, and a small laugh. “Heh, if I’m not puttin’ it in the letter I prob’ly shouldn’t talk about it on this, either. …Well. Then again, the only people that’re gonna hear this’s Sytri, who already knows, an’ all of you back home. An’ by the time you guys’ll hear it, this’ll all hopefully be over an’ I wouldn’t have to worry about anything. ‘S just a bad encounter I had with an Imperium soldier a li’l while back; I’ll tell you about it when I get home. But uh… Ah- I met a couple new people today. First one’s named Nils, an’ he’s… he’s interesting. Ok ok, I’ll- lemme- I’m gonna back up a little bit. So earlier today I went to go see if Kale’d go with me to visit Sytri, ‘cause Sytri said he wouldn’t mind seein’ Kale again and built a ladder so he could reach his house easier instead of havin’ to climb that cliff to reach ‘im, so- Yeah anyway, turns out Kale’s been workin on some ‘linker’ thing, didn’t tell me what it was, an’ exhausted himself enough that he straight-up passed out on his floor. Tab ‘n I put him to bed, ‘n Tab was feelin’ lonely, so I took her with me instead. Sytri didn’t mind at all- he fixed up some sandwiches ‘n we talked an’ it was nice.”

“So we stayed there for a li’l while before headin’ on back. Kale apparently woke up ‘n left at some point while we were gone, b’cause when we got back, his room was empty. And that’s when Nils showed up. He’s always got this straight face ‘n deadpan tone, an’ it’s- it’s actually kinda funny. He asked us- Tab was still with me- he asked us if that was the bathroom. Kale’s room- the bathroom!” A small laugh. “Poor guy was lost as could be. So I offered to tour him through the place, since it’s his second day an’ all, an’ before we could head off to find his room, someone else showed up. ‘S a courier, an’ I hadn’t seen him around before- his name’s Silas, an’ he’s- he’s super quiet, ‘n seemed pretty shy an’ easily intimidated, too. Though,” and this was said with a chuckle, “Nils talkin’ about ‘kidnapping’ him an’ chasin’ him an’ such prob’ly didn’t help any.”

“But he’s the one who gave me the letter. Like he gave Nils one, an’ then he just- he just handed me this.” Unfolded. A pause. “I still can’t- believe that I, I got- I got an actual letter. From home. I-I dunno how Josiah got it to anybody either, unless he- Well, no, we’d send people out to other towns to get supplies ‘n whatnot, so I suppose that he could’ve- sent it with them ‘n they… they found a courier or somethin’, but still… An actual letter.”

“I gotta write a reply to this.”

Click.

[deke-rivers-1957]

Toby Goes to Hogwarts

"Now son how's ya robes fittin ya? Ain't gonna be meltin down cause of em?"

Ah look in the mirror an see mahself in a set of school robes. Ah kinda bounce a bit.

"Ah look sharp! Ah'm ready fer Hogwarts!"

He pats mah shoulder smilin.

"That's mah boy! 11 years old an yer gonna be goin out on yer own havin adventures."

Ah go down ta the kitchen ta put the finishin touches on the tank fer Trevor. Pop an Ah get the last thangs together. Ah pick up mah trunk an' backpack an' Trevor's tank an we head out ta the car.

"Do ya got mah ticket, Pop?"

He smiles an nods.

"Got it right in mah pocket. Ah'mma give ya the ticket once we get ta the station."

"Ok."

Ah start fidgetin an look out the window.

Time Skip

Ah'm startin ta get a lil scared once we get ta the station. Pop parks the car an helps get mah stuff out. Ah see 'em lookin at me like he think somethin's wrong.

"Wha's wrong Pop?"

"You's best be fixin ta get ya cryin out the way Toby. Ah know this' gonna be yer first time away from me so jus let out yer cryin now."

Ah try not ta cry... but Ah can't help it. Ah hug Pop an cry a little bit. He hugs me back.

"Ah'm givin ya money fer lil snacks an yer ticket. Ya can send me letters anytime ya want. It'll take awhile but Ah promise ta send ya one back."

Ah'm still cryin an in a way Ah'm glad it's rainin. Ah like this type a rain cause it's all nice an cold.

"We's best be gettin on the platform before we get wet."

Ah follow Pop as we run inta the wall ta get on the platform. Ah'm a lil upset Ah started cryin in front a people but Ah keep on goin', hopin' Pop'll think Ah'm brave.

"Jus be brave, Toby. Ah know this'll be hard at first but it'll be ok."

Ah see the train an hear a sound tha's like a mix a whistles an train wheel squeak. Pop looks over at mah face an notices mah lil' waterin' eyes.

"Doncha worry bout the train son. It'll sound loud at first but once ya give it a couple mins, yer gonna feel better."

Ah wipe mah eyes knowin Pop's makin sense. Ah can't really say anythang cause Ah'm tryna catch mah breath. Pop pats mah head an Ah start ta feel better.

"You's gonna be makin new friends Toby. Got yer frog, Trevor goin wit ya. Just gotta let out yer feelins an get on the train."

"Oh-Ok, Pop."

Ah wanna make sure Ah'm gonna find mah way on that train, seein' as how Ah'm not so good wit trains normally. Mah mind goes blank an mah stomach feels tied up wit knots. But this time instead of bein' a scared kid it feels different. Ah think this' the first time Ah've ever felt real special. Maybe this' what Hogwarts' supposed ta be like.

"Watch yer step son. Jus gotta get on the train an you'll be fine."

"Thanks, Pop."

Ah make it ta the top an stand by the train window. Ah look back at Pop standin on the platform. Mah face is full a excitement an a flood of feelins. Mah stomach starts ta hurt real bad.

"Bye Pop! Ah love ya!"

"Bye son. Love ya too."

Ah try ta keep a straight face an keep watchin' mah Pop as the train pulls outta the station while gainin' speed.

"Trevor. Are we gonna be ok?"

He looks at me with his froggie eyes and ribbits. Ah try not ta cry agin.

"Thanks Trevor. We's gonna be great then."

Ah hear somebody clear their throat. Ah turn round.

"Need help? I'll show ya how to find a seat."

"Well. Ok."

Ah follow the man through the train till Ah find a special train room.

"Thank ya sir."

Ah sit down knowin it's time ta close mah eyes an take a deep breath. Mah head leans against the train window as the train rattles down the tracks. Mah stomach starts to hurt real bad, like real bad... But Ah'm on the way to Hogwarts.

Time Skip

"Hello. My name is Jacklin. Jacklin Gryffindor. May I sit here with you?"

Ah peek out one eye an see a girl bout mah age lookin at mah face. She's got very pale skin an almost white hair. She's looks magical like the LOTR girl from mah daydreams. Mah stomach is still turnin' somersaults in mah gut.

"Oh, Ah guess so... Mah name's Toby Kwimper."

Ah notice that her eyes are still on mah face. She opens her mouth to say something, then stops and just stares at mah face.

"Is this your first time on the Hogwarts Express? You look like you have motion sickness."

"Uh yeah...how'd ya know?"

Ah'm surprised she could even notice all that. Mah stomach's still turnin' over in all kinds a directions.

"When I got on the train I saw a few other first year students get sick."

"Oh. Well Ah'm not just gettin' sick, Ah'm gettin' real sick. Would ya maybe have somethin' ta settle mah stomach? Do ya know any spells?"

Ah feel sick enough to puke.

"Well I do know something. Try to focus on me, Toby."

"But mah stomach's turnin' and hurtin' real bad. Ah'm gonna puke."

Ah clutch mah stomach an look at Jacklin. Her eyes seem ta be drawin' me in.

"Just take deep breaths."

Ah'm scared ta hold her hands. But Ah'm scared to puke in front a her even worse. Ah slowly put mah hands out an we grab each other's hands. We jus look at each other's faces an try to think about somethin' else.

"Are you feeling better, Toby?"

The pain's gone. Ah can still feel mah stomach movin, but it's stopped hurtin'.

"Thanks."

Ah look at her an give her a little smile.

"That's lovely to hear, Toby. If you don't mind I think we try to distract ourselves. Let's talk about our wands."

Ah sit back in mah seat an' look at her. It's been awhile since Ah've seen mah wand. Ah dig it outta mah pocket an take a good look at it.

"Awright. What d'ya wanna know?"

Ah see 'er lookin at it.

"Is that an english oak wand? What's the core?"

"Yeap, English oak wit'a unicorn hair core."

Ah give her another little smile.

"And tha's good?"

"English oak wood supposedly was used to make Merlin's wand. Wizards who use this wand have to have strong intuition, and tend to like nature. You might end up becoming really good with our classes that focus on plants and magical creatures."

Ah feel mahself noddin but Ah don't really get everythang she's sayin.

"Yeap. Ah think Mr. Ollivander done tol me bout all that. Ah like it."

Ah smile an seem ta be a little cloud a light an have warm, fuzzy feelings in mah brain that's makin' me feel good fer a change. Jacklin takes out her wand.

"This is a cherry wood wand with a Veela hair core."

"Cherry wood wand with a Veela hair core? What's a Veela?"

She looks up at me.

"Veela are semi-human magical beings; beautiful women with white-gold hair and skin that appears to shine like the moon. When angry, Veela take on a less pleasant appearance; their faces elongate into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long scaly wings burst from their shoulders. My mother can do that but since I'm only half-Veela I can't."

Ah blink at her cause she said a lotta words.

"But what does that mean about the core of the wand?"

"Veela hair helps tame temperamental wands. Cherry wood is very rare in the UK and can be very dangerous. Only wizards with a lot of self control should get wands like this."

Ah look at her with big surprised eyes.

"Why d'ya gotta say that?"

Ah can feel mah stomach startin' ta rumble again. Mah face heats up an Ah start ta look at mah wand again ta try an' distract myself.

"Since I'm part Veela, I'm always trying to keep my powers under control. Veela have the ability to hypnotize most people attracted to girls when we dance. I try not to dance though because I know it makes them do dangerous things."

Ah look up at you. Mah stomach is rumblin' still, but Ah'm more scared of lookin' at her eyes now that Ah know what they can do. Ah hear her sigh.

"Veela magic is a curse when you think about it. You never know who your real friends are. My family supports half blooded and human born wizards but it's too dangerous for me to be around pure humans."

Mah stomach's turned back into just a big knot. Ah can feel mah face tryin' ta change into a soft, sad little face. Ah got no choice bout this one.

"Tha's a shame. Ah'm sorry ya have ta live wit that. Ya seem so nice."

"We're always, no matter what, physically perfect; graceful; and flawless. Nothing can make us look bad. Even when I start to get acne it doesn't seem to matter. That's why I wish I can have someone tell me I look snotty. At least that would be a sign I'm like any other 11 year old girl."

Ah notice her skin seems ta look perfect. She ain't got bruises or paper cuts on her hands like Ah do. Ah wish Ah could comfort her an Ah don't want her to feel so bad. After a bit, Ah start ta think about somethin'.

"Hey! Yer lips don't look perfect. There's a crack right in the middle of one of 'em!"

Ah hope Ah weren't soundin too mean. Girls in the past usually jus laugh at me or think Ah'm gross.

"Where?"

Ah point ta her lip an the little crack in the middle.

"Right there. See it?"

She looks at her reflection in the window.

"They do look a bit chapped. So does that mean that you don't feel affected by my magic?"

"Nah. Least Ah don't think Ah do cause now that Ah'm seein yer dry lips tha's all Ah can focus on."

She looks away from the window.

"I see. I didn't realize they were that dry."

Ah'm glad Ah was able to find somethin' that ain't perfect bout her. The knot in mah stomach slowly starts ta go away.

"See ya ain't so perfect. Perfect girls ain't got cracked lips."

She touches them ta feel how they're so dry.

"I should probably buy a bottle of pumpkin juice when the Honeydukes trolley passes by."

Ah look at her, an Ah wanna laugh. Ah dunno why since Ah know it probly ain't that funny.

"Wha's pumpkin juice good fer?"

"Anything to drink should help add moisture to my lips. The trolley on this train has only pumpkin juice since we're going to have a feast when we get to Hogwarts."

Mah eyes look real big cause Ah sure Ah ain't knowed we's gonna eat a lotta food.

"Feast?"

"Oh. Don't you have start of term feasts where you're from, Toby?"

Ah jus look at her knowin Ah ain't understood a word she said.

"Oh, not at mah school. Sometimes we got pizza days but then on the last day a school we get this hotdog day. Sure ain't a feast cause we'd only get one hotdog an a bag a Fritos or Pringles. Ya know those small little bags they give ya cause the school jus ain't got a lotta money..."

Ah jus start ramblin bout mah old school. Ah guess tha's a good thang cause she ain't tol' me ta shut up yet.

"Are you autistic Toby?"

Ah stop talkin. Ah need a sec ta figure out wha she said but Ah nod cause Ah'm scared ta say yes out loud.

"Uh huh."

"I think that might explain why you're not affected by my Veela magic."

Ah turn mah head a bit cause that don't make sense.

"How come?"

"I'm not sure since not everyone with autism seems to be affected the same way. It’s very rare to even have any immunity as it is."

"An yer sayin' Ah'm the only person that ain't affected by yer magic?"

"Outside of my family, yes. I’m not sure if there’s anyone else who wouldn’t be affected by it."

Ah look at her with wide eyes. Mah mind's racein' with ideas and excitement.

"If it ain't too personal, what does yer family worry about?"

"That my Veela magic causes the boys to do dangerous things to try to impress me. That’s why I said my magic is similar to a siren. Even when I don’t willingly use it, it’s still there. I can’t turn it off."

"Sounds like a pain."

Ah look out da window while smackin mah hands gainst mah seat.

"We nearly at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft an Wizardry yet?"

Ah look back at her an give her another half-smilin' look.

"I think we have another hour before we get there. Do you want anything from the trolley?"

Ah remember mah stomach's rumblin a bit.

"Yes. Ah think Ah could go fer one of 'em pumpkin juices. Ah ain't gonna be gettin cracked lips too."

The trolley lady appears an Ah try ta get mah wizardin money.

"Anythin off the trolley dears?"

"Yes, ma'am. One of dem pumpkin juices if ya got it."

She turns ta Jacklin an she wants ta get everythang. She's gotta be rich if she can get all 'em snacks an pumpkin juice too. Ah dunno if Ah'd be able ta eat anythang at the feast. Ah can't help but smile like a baby, an mah stomach seems ta go from a knot ta a floppin' flounders tail.

"Tha'll be 12 sickles loves."

Ah try ta count out tha money an hand it ta her.

"Thank ya ma'am."

Mah mouth is almost drooling. Mah eyes're all wide open. Mah stomach's a-rumblin' an' a-growlin'. Mah hands're all fidgety on tha pumpkin juice.

"Have you ever had anything from Honeydukes before, Toby?"

Ah shake my head, still lookin' at her snack an droolin' an starvin' an waitin' impatiently, like a baby might act.

"Oh that's right, you're American. You probably don't have Honeydukes there."

"Oh no. We ain't even got a trolley fer snacks. Is tha pumpkin juice good? It smells real good."

"I think it makes for a nice summer's drink. It seems to be popular because it's sweet."

Ah nod an mah stomach growls again.

"So it means Ah can have a sip right now?"

"Oh yes. Sorry about that, Toby."

Ah smile at her then immediately take a big drink out of tha bottle. The drink seems ta instantly help mah hunger pangs. Ah feel mah stomach settlin.

"Thanks fer buyin all these snacks, Jacklin."

"I figure it’s time that you learn what all these snacks are. Have you ever tried a chocolate frog before?"

"Nah. No one eats frogs back home. Ah mean some do but they don't cover 'em in chocolate. They fry their legs. Ah don't eat 'em though cause... Ah got mah frog Trevor."

Ah look at a package an then back ta her. Mah stomach growls an then Ah turn ta look at tha frog package. Ah'm tryin' real hard ta be polite an well behaved.

"Go on Toby, open it."

Ah open it up. A magical chocolate frog starts ta hop around.

"Don't worry, Toby. These frogs are just chocolate shaped like ones. They’re not alive."

Ah grab it an' start nommin' tha chocolate frog like it's some kinda animal. It's meltin' in mah mouth... A real frog'd take some time to eat or swallow.

"It's reeeeeal gooood."

Mah stomach's growlin slows down.

"Thank ya."

Ah smile like a baby at her.

"There’s the card that comes with it. The boys like to trade them when they collect these."

Ah look at the picture of tha frog and read tha card.

"Which one did you get, Toby?"

"Ah dunno who Ah got but it says Albus Dumbledore."

"Oh that's Headmaster Dumbledore. We'll be meeting him today once we get to Hogwarts."

Mah growlin' calms way down. Ah feel real full an relaxed and tired, but Ah feel good. Ah smile up at her like one o' those baby animals with tha big eyes.

"Ya know, Ah feel like Ah ate mah favorite dinner an' then Ah ate mah dessert an then some mo' favorite dinner an then some mo dessert. Ah feel kinda... kinda full... A little... sleepy...

Ah yawn a little, an' Ah lean against her until Trevor ribbits.

"What was that? Chocolate frogs never sound like real ones."

Ah snap awake after her voice startles mah half-asleep mind.

"Oh."

Ah look around to find tha sound. Ah see Trevor on tha floor an' Ah pick it up.

"Trevor started talkin' ta me."

"Is that your pet, Toby?"

"Uh huh. His name's Trevor."

Ah let Trevor sit on mah hand an' scratch tha back a his head. He likes tha way Ah'm scratchin' him. Ah wonder if he likes mah scratchin' better than tha others. He likes tha way Ah pet him.

"Wanna come an sit on mah lap Trevor?"

There's a big smile on mah face. Trevor climbs onto mah lap so Ah can get better access ta pet him. Ah notice Jacklin lookin at me.

"Wha's happened?"

"Oh nothing. Nothing happened, Toby. I was just thinking about you and your frog. I think the English oak was a good choice for your wand.

"Why's that?"

She smiles at me.

"Trevor seems to understand what you’re saying like he’s a person too."

"Well tha's cause Trevor's smart like Ah am. He's talkin' ta me like he knew me real well ever since Ah got 'em. We're basically friends."

Ah say all that wit a serious face. Cause Ah mean it. Jacklin don't seem ta think Ah'm weird that Ah talk ta frogs.

"Well that's nice Toby."

Ah give Trevor a long and tender scratch along tha back an' tha back a his neck, an he seems ta like it. Ah look at Jacklin an Ah see the same kinda look in her eyes now too. She seems ta understand me a little better all a sudden. Mah stomach doesn't growl no more. Ah feel really happy like Ah ain't ever felt before. Mah heart's flippin around. But Ah'm happy. Real happy...

Tag list: @arrolyn1114, @aliengoth3, @vintagepresley, @comebackep, @thetaoofzoe, and @presleysgirl6.

[twilightmalachite]

Love Letter - Mirror mirror 2

Author: Umeda Chitose

Characters: Yuuta, Rinne

Translator: Mika Enstars

Proofer: Kirin

"Don’t tell me that the cute lil’ 2wink, whose whole schtick is bein’ a “two-in-one” idol, are so mismatched they can only agree on one thing! ♪"

Season: Winter

Location: Starmony Dorms Common Room

Rinne: …Hmm, “various things”, eh? So be it.

Yuuta: (? I expected him to keep on prying, but he’s being surprisingly understanding…?)

Rinne: Since you don’t wanna talk ‘bout it, Yuta, I’ll just have to guess on my own!

If you’re doin’ it to make a wish, you must have found a love or two that you want to fulfill, eh? You’re at that age!

You should tell me who it is, just me! ♪

Yuuta: (He wasn’t being understanding at all…!)

Come on. I’m absolutely not in love…!

And what do you mean “a love or two”? If you’re going to imagine me falling in love, can you at least make me devoted?

Rinne: Huh, so you’re the type to devote yourself, eh Yuta? I see, so you were lookin’ so melancholic earlier ‘cuz you were broodin’ over love?

Yuuta: What’s with this fixation on “love”? Look, you have nothing to do with what I was thinking about, so…

Ah, maybe you aren’t exactly unrelated, actually?

Rinne: Whaddya mean?

Yuuta: You know how Chocolat Fes is in less than a month, right?

If Crazy:B’s gonna participate in ES’s Chocolat Fes, then you’re related one way or another.

Rinne: Chocolat Fes… Ah, I have a feelin’ that Vice Prez Glasses-kun contacted me ‘bout that.

Some wordy-ass email sayin’ how it’s the first time ES is holding the event, so on, so forth… Yup, found it, this one!

Yuuta: That’s the same email Aniki had shown me. The Vice Prez sure seems motivated, huh~?

Aniki was like, “That guy’s a businessman, so he must be all fired up for the Valentine’s Day sales season!”

Rinne: Hmm? Well, him being in the “Team White” during SS must’ve been unprofitable for his work. It makes sense that he’d be craving to go back to war.

It ain’t any fun to take part in somethin’ that’s just to fill his pockets… But we do have both a cook and some sweets lovers.

I haven’t touched the email at all, though. It’d be a pain in the ass to have Vice Prez Four Eyes keep pressing me about it, so I’ll just respond now I guess.

Yuuta: Whaaat, you still haven’t even done that?

We sent in a reply saying we’d perform the same day Vice Prez sent out the email.

Rinne: I dunno anythin’ about Chocolat Fes, though. Wasn’t that also some event that Yumenosaki Academy had?

Yuuta: Yeah? That’s why we’ll be performing in both.

The Chocolat Fes at Yumenosaki Academy, and the very first Chocolat Fes at ES—

We’ll stand on both stages and show what 2wink is made of through our performance. That way, lots and lots of people will get to see us.

That’s the only thing we see eye to eye as 2wink, after all.

Rinne: Only that?

Yuuta: (…Ah, shoot!)

Rinne: Ah-ha. What d’ya mean “only”? Are things not goin’ smoothly, apart from the idea of performin’ at both Chocolat Fes’?

Yuuta: I didn’t say that…

Rinne: You make yourselves as similar as possible so the general public wouldn’t be able to tell if you guys even switched places.

Don’t tell me that the cute lil’ 2wink, whose whole schtick is bein’ a “two-in-one” idol, are so mismatched they can only agree on one thing! ♪

Nobody would touch a lovers’ quarrel with a ten foot pole, but fights between brothers start wars, y’know? The history of Japan and the world are proof!

Yuuta: If every time we fought was a war, then we’ve already suffered such ravages too many times to count.

Well, Hiiro-kun is a good, honest kid… I doubt you two ever get into any fights, Senpai.

Rinne: ……

Yuuta: Either way, it’s not like we’re even fighting this time anyways.

How do I put it… It’s just like, we want to go in different directions.

Rinne: Gyahaha, wanna go in different directions, huh? Ain’t that usually the reason why bands break up? ♪

Yuuta: Well thank god, ‘cuz we’re not a band, so we won’t be breaking up~.

Apparently the sense of fulfillment from having accomplished something tends to lead to bands breaking up, not just wanting to go in different directions.

So in that respect, we know we still have a long way to go. So there’s no way we’ll split up, ‘kay?

Rinne: Still, it’s a disagreement that’s got ya tense enough to let it slip out in front of me by accident.

Yuuta: Senpai, it’s really pissing me off how you’ve been making fun of us since earlier…

Could you stop treating someone else’s brotherly disagreement as some interesting show?

For example, if we were to pick a snack right now, Aniki would choose chocolate, and I would choose rice crackers.

Give us the same curry menu, and Aniki would eat plain curry, and I would eat spicy curry.

Trivial, everyday differences. It’s typical, normal stuff.

Rinne: Just normal stuff for ya, huh…?

If you get this worked up over normal stuff, then you must seriously be irritated all day every day, Yuta! Gyahahaha! ☆

Yuuta: I wonder who’s making me so irritated right now…

Yuuta: (Ah~, it’s no good. Talking to this guy does nothing but upset my mood.)

(What’s more, he feels extra persistent today… Before I knew it, he was sitting in a chair next to me, all scooched in.)

(I’m done here. I need to end this conversation already. I can’t do research with Senpai here, I can’t even eat my rice crackers…)

……

Rinne: What’s got ya standin’ up so suddenly?

Yuuta: I have a meeting with Aniki at the agency coming up. I still have some time, but I’m gonna get going.

Rinne: A meeting, huh? What for?

Yuuta: Just a plain old meeting about work. And then after that, about Chocolat Fes.

Didn’t I tell you it’s coming up in under a month? There are a bunch of decisions we should make.

And if Crazy:B’s gonna perform, won’t it also be you guys’ first Chocolat Fes? Are you sure you have time to worry about others?

Rinne: Aww, ya worried ‘bout me despite not doin’ too well yourself? You’re so kind, Yuta~! ☆

Yuuta: Ahaha, I’m not worried about you, Senpai. You don’t even know if you’re participating. I do worry about everyone else, though.

Yuuta & Rinne: ……

Yuuta: Welp, I gotta put away my half-eaten rice crackers, and wash my teacup…

Rinne: Whoa, red powders falling off those rice crackers in that bag! Just how much shichimi do those things have!?

Yuuta: I do not care how curious you are. You’re not getting any, okay…?

← prev | story directory | next →

[cccotard]

happy late birthday luca my light my love my life

[passport-guardian-benrey]

Comic' nightmares

A story written with @neon--nightmare as Fresh, about 11 Year old Comic having a nightmare and Fresh having to deal with that

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

Comic woke up suddenly in the middle of the night, their breathing is a bit uneven, they're shaking and tears are streaming down their cheekbones, they tried wiping them away, after that they found their glasses and got out of bed, the small skeleton slowly went towards Fresh' room

In the pitch blackness, Fresh creaked one eye open wearily, his single pupil setting a faint white glow across his face. The parasite sat up and rubbed his eyes, not bothering to reach for his shades for now. He’d just been fast asleep, dreamless, for once, so he couldn’t imagine what had woken him up, but... Fresh had an inkling as to why, and he usually trusted his instincts.

Silently, Fresh stood up, lifting his glasses from his beside, and slipping them on as he went. He opened his door, took a step... and quite literally bumped into Comic, catching himself by surprise.

”C-brah?”

Comic looked up at him, They look scared, they wiped the tears from their face again, "I-I . . ." They started crying more.

Fresh mentally froze. He’d had a sense something was wrong with Comic, but... Crying??? He didn’t know how to deal with crying! But, obviously Comic wasn’t hurt, so... Yeah, never mind, not actually bad. Fresh crouched down on one knee, casting his mind back to what he’d seen other people do on TV.

”Hey... What’s wrong, lil broski? Somethin’ happenin wit’ ya?”

"I-I h-had a n-nightm-mare . . ." Comic said it while wiping their tears again, their voice was cracking.

”Shhh, shhh.” Fresh wiped a tear off Comic’s cheek, and flicked it away.

”It’s aight, C-dawg, I’m here, I’m here. Ya know it ain’t... Real, yeah? No point ta worryin’ all up about things that ain’t gonna happen.” Of course, Fresh neglected to mention his own nightmares, and how he sometimes snapped awake in a cold sweat, silently heaving for air. That was dumb, and hey, it wasn’t real! Fresh trusted Comic as much as he was capable of, but he still wasn’t in the habit of giving out his... ‘weaknesses’ all willy-nilly.

Suddenly Comic hugged Fresh, hiding their face in Fresh' clothes, "Th-they h-hurt me a-again . . . it h-hurt s-so m-much . . ." They're still shaking.

Fresh frowned, the letters on his glasses flickering briefly, before he wrapped his arms around Comic in turn, rubbing his back. Yeah, this may have been... more than he’d signed up for.

”Hey, hey. Dey ain’t here any more, lil brah. ‘S just you an me, yo! Jus’ all up Fresh an’ Comic, see! Nobody else here.” He went to rub Comic’s head, and thought better of it at the last moment; yeah, if he still thought his bullies were in the house with him, best not to go near the wound they left. Fresh felt a slight twinge in his gut, at that, but shoved it away.

”’Ey, I got a RADICAL idea, homeslice!! How ‘bout we all up go on a walk o’ da place, just ta up an PROVE dey ain’t here?? An’, ya know, even if some unfresh burglar-brah is here ta steal all ya snacks, I’M here ta protect ya~!!” He grinned down at Comic, lifting up his shades with one hand to give a wink.

"O-okay . . ." Comic is trying to calm down, they're still a bit shaky

In one swift movement, Fresh scooped Comic up in his arms, bridal-style, and his grin widened. ”C’mon, C-dawg, lead da way! Where ya wanna go first?”

After a brief moment, he added, ”We can walk an’ talk at da same time, by da way. If ya want~!”

Comic flinched a bit when they were picked up, "B-back to m-my r-room f-for now . . ."

That caught Fresh a bit off guard for a moment, but he managed to mask it quickly, barely letting a shred of surprise cross his face.

”Aiiight, back ta da room it is!! You’re da bus driver here, ya ridin’ on da FRESH EXPRESS! <3” And with that, still carrying the smaller skeleton, Fresh skipped his way back to Comic’s room, oblivious to Comic’s discomfort.

Comic is holding onto him, when they entered the room, the small skeleton looked around and wanted to be put down when they saw their scarf

Fresh set Comic down gently, still keeping a close eye on him. ”Dere ya go, lil brah, go get it. Ya feelin’ any better now?”

Comic took the scarf and wrapped it around their neck, then they went back to Fresh, "a little b-bit . . ." They're not crying anymore, but they are still a bit shaky

”PERFECT, yo!!! Hold on a sec~!” Fresh scooped up Comic once more, then looked around.

”Ya still want dat house tour, or d’ya just wanna up an crash here fo’ now? Ya look MAD wiped out, lil broski.”

"We c-could go around . . ." Comic then yawned quietly

”Ya wish is mah command, yo! Maybe I can, hmm...” Fresh trailed off for a moment, thinking. Then he walked over to Comic’s bed, snatching a pillow off and positioning it in the crook of his arm, so the other skeleton had somewhere that wasn’t bone to lay his head.

”Lil cozier now?”

Comic put their head on the pillow, "y-yeah . . ."

”BAM, SLEEPYTIME CENTRAL!!!” Fresh grinned excitedly, completely ignoring the irony of how loud he usually talked.

”So... Are ya thirsty, huh? Wit’ all dat cryin’, I’m surprised ya ain’t all lookin up like a piece o’ dried jerky right now, ah hahaha!” Fresh beamed at his own joke, the YOLO on his shades glowing slightly in the dark.

Comic chuckled quietly at the joke, "I c-could drink something . . ."

”Rad!!! Hold on just a sec, homedawg, we gonna get HYDRATED up in here!!!” Fresh nestled him closer and headed off in the direction of the kitchen, more slowly this time.

”Now, I ain’t all sure what time it is an’ junk, so I ain’t sure if it’s early enough in da mornin’ fo’ breakfast... I know some peeps up an’ chug warm milk ta get ‘emselves ta sleep an all dat, how’s it soundin’ ta ya? Plus, ya get dat sicknasty CALCIUM in ya diet!! Wicked strong BONES, yo, ya gonna be liftin’ towers in no time!!” Fresh was mostly talking to fill the silence, people did that, right? They’ve gotten this far already, no point in letting Comic’s mind wander back to his nightmares.

"It sounds nice . . ." Comic is rather calm now, they closed their eyesockets

Fresh chuckled softly, pulling up to the kitchen. Balancing Comic steadily, making sure there was as little jostling as possible, Fresh poured the skeleton a cup of milk, kicking the fridge shut and popping the half-full mug into the microwave. Hey, he didn’t want Comic to spill it on either of their clothes on the way back!

The gentle whirring of the microwave filled the quiet kitchen as they waited for the beep, a warm orange light washing over the two. Comic’s eyes were closed, but Fresh continued to smile down at him. It’d be so easy to just possess him like this, with his guard down... But, no, there was no point in it yet. This whole debacle would go a long way in gaining Comic’s trust, Fresh was willing to bet, and that was more than useful enough to justify the work he’d went through.

Besides, he’d gathered a lot of information... Namely that, yes, the incident continued to affect him deeply, something that Fresh already knew - but it was very interesting to see the extent of how deeply. It wasn’t often the parasite had a front seat to this sort of thing... And to see how Fresh was the first one Comic went to for comfort was hilarious, considering the reason Fresh had stuck around in the first place! There were so many possibilities... But, no, he wouldn’t play his hand too soon. He wanted to see where this was going, first! And all the things that trust could lead to...

The microwave dinged, jolting Fresh out of his thoughts. He gently eased the door open and pulled the steaming mug out with one hand, nudging Comic gently. ”Ya still awake in dere, lil brah...? Milk’s up!”

Comic looked at him, they're a bit sleepy

”Aw... Nothin’? Well, I guess da milk can wait a lil. Dey call it WARM milk, not steamin’ milk, after all~!”

Still holding both the mug and Comic, Fresh turned heel and headed back to the bedroom, making sure none of the liquid sloshed out as they went. When they arrived, Fresh gently plopped his cargo down onto the bed, leaving the mug on the nightstand and tucking Comic in. Once that was done, Fresh plopped down next to him, the mattress creaking slightly under the sudden weight.

”All tucked in, an’ wit’ somethin’ ta drink when ya wake up!! How ya feelin’ now, lil homie?” Fresh grinned, obviously proud of himself and his handiwork.

"better . . . Thank you" Comic smiled slightly at him

”Haha... No problem, C-slice. Ya can always count on me, aight~?” Fresh had been planning to leave and wait for Comic to call him back, but he thought better of it; instead, he climbed into bed next to Comic, tucking himself in and placing his shades safely besides him. The other skeleton had seen the parasite many times without his glasses, after all, though, luckily, never asked why his “eyelight” was cracked like that.

Also, Fresh hadn’t had the time to change out of his pajamas in the first place, so it was perfect! Who said that only kids could wear dinosaur-patterned sleep pants? Nobody, that’s who. Fresh sighed and nestled himself in, closing his eyes - although, if anything happened, he was always a light sleeper. For now, though, he highly doubted Comic could do any harm to him... and with that, Fresh was out.

Comic looked at Fresh, they decided to cuddle up to him, they closed their eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

[tamagoincident]

To Lure a Bird

arthur morgan x reader

summary: The Van der Linde Gang plans to rob a train, too bad you hit it first. You, being the reasonable person you are, coerce rough-looking men to run a job with you in exchange for the stolen money, and everyone gets more than they bargained for.

chapter: 1/10

link: AO3

Chapter One - A Mutual Enemy

On the evening you first heard of the Van der Linde Gang’s presence in Valentine, you stood at the bar of Smithfield's Saloon disguised in men’s clothing. Not a typical Friday for you, as you tried not to make it a habit of sticking around places where reckless men became more reckless the further they disappeared into their cups. But years ago you’d helped the bartender, a giant man named Ernest, drum up enough money to pay off his debtors, and he held you in the highest of regards ever since. It was the only place you could drink without being disturbed. Ernest made sure of that.

“What’ll it be, the usual?” he winked at you, his large hands already reaching toward the whiskey.

You smiled and nodded.

“I have information you might want to hear,” he continued, pouring the liquor into a glass and sliding it towards you. You caught it easily.

“Oh?”

“There was a young lady here last night. Overheard her talkin’ to some fancy pants New Yorker who kept braggin’ ‘bout the luxury train he’ll be taking back to the North. She seemed awfully intrigued,” Ernest said. “And get this, it weren’t the only instance I’d seen her, neither. Few days ago she’d been traipsin’ around the outskirts of Valentine with a bunch of scary lookin’ out-of-towners.”

“Figure they’re planning on robbing the train?”

Ernest shrugged. “It’s easy pickin’. You know how naïve high society can be.”

Maybe easy enough for a one-person job, if done quickly and with care. You’d only robbed a train once with two people you used to run with. You didn’t run with them anymore. It hurt you to think of it.

You held up your glass for a refill and leaned forward, brimming with interest. “Tell me more about this train.”

—

The train tracks rattled underneath Arthur’s feet.

“Get movin’,” he said to Sean, pointing towards the trees hidden in the darkness. Arthur climbed atop the wagon they’d rode in on and placed in the middle of the tracks, which bore five hundred gallons of oil. He widened his stance for balance and pulled a bandana over his mouth and nose. “Here she comes.”

Arthur squinted against the blinding brightness of the incoming headlight, cocking his rifle as it approached. The train’s horn bellowed into the night.

It saw him. Good.

It came to a hissing and screeching halt. A uniformed man stormed out from the front cab. “What's goin' on here? What's—aw hell,” the engineer wailed, kicking the dirt underneath his feet. “Not again! Gettin’ real tired of this shit.” Behind him, a shadow of blurred movement. Charles, ready to strike him unconscious.

Arthur jumped off the wagon. “Hold it!” he yelled to Charles, who paused his assault and instead restrained the man with a pistol aimed at his head. “What d’you mean, ‘Not again?’”

“If y’all are trying to rob us, we’ve already been hit,” he wheezed.

“You’re bluffin’.”

“You and your boys are more than welcome to board and check. Reckon it’s a waste of time though.”

Arthur swore. “Let him go, Mr. S.”

Charles let go. The engineer stumbled forward, sputtering and coughing. In between heavy breaths he said, “Happened near the Heartlands. Strange feller in a mask robbed us blind and then pointed a shotgun at me, gruntin’ at me to start the engine or he’ll call for his gang to kill everyone on board.”

“Why in God’s name would he do that?” Arthur said.

“Beats me. But now that I think of it, he was probably expecting y’all. Here, he gave me this—” he moved to reach into his coat pocket, but ceased upon the chorus of rifles cocking. Sean and John had appeared to find what the holdup was.

“Don’t move a goddamn muscle,” Arthur growled. “Mr. S., if you could kindly grab whatever’s in that fool’s pocket.”

Charles complied, plucking out a wad of paper. He handed it to Sean, who read aloud:

Don’t want the loot, only your attention.

Have your lady informant go back to the saloon and talk to the bartender.

He’ll tell you where to find me.

Cause any trouble and you won’t see a cent.

Sean laughed bitterly, waving the note in the air. “Got us good, didn't he?”

“Give me that, you idiot.” Arthur snatched the note and tilted the lettering towards the train's headlight. “Goddamn it—”

A bullet whizzed by Arthur’s head. The engineer dove to the ground for safety.

“Get on your horses!” Arthur yelled to the gang and whistled. Once in the saddle, he spurred the horse on and rode hard into the trees, past the storm of bullets, and evaded capture.

He was the last to arrive back at camp, after making sure he hadn’t been followed. He passed Dutch’s closed tent and found Sean blackout drunk near the fire. John sat close by, clearly on the same trajectory as the Irishman, with the amount of empty beer bottles at his feet. Arthur cleared his throat. “Where’s Charles?”

John glanced up, eyes bleary and lined with red. In the firelight he looked small and exhausted. “Asleep.”

“You should be too.”

“Well, I ain’t,” John mumbled tipping the beer to his lips and draining it. He tossed the bottle aside with a crash.

“Need me to tuck you in Marston? How ‘bout a bedtime story?”

“Real funny, Arthur."

Arthur sat down across from John, allowing the sound of crickets and snuffling horses to fill the silence between them. When he spoke, his tone was softer. “Don’t think I’ve seen you this shaken. Not even when you was freezin’ your ass off after them wolves got to you.”

John’s gaze dropped to his lap. “I’m a bit rattled, s’all. I got a bad feelin’, Arthur.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you think the law showed up a little too fast?”

“Maybe,” Arthur said. “I’m more curious about the son-of-a-bitch who knew we was gonna rob that train.” He turned, pulling the note he’d stashed into his saddlebag and brandishing it.

“See? You’re worried too. S’not just me.”

“I’m not worried,” Arthur cast the notion aside. No use in admitting to being worried unless there was really something to lose sleep over, especially in front of John, who looked like he was fixing for an excuse to leave again. Arthur didn’t want to be the person to give him one. He would gladly take a bullet before he watched Abigail’s face twist back into sorrow and disappointment on account of John flying the coop.

“We gonna be okay, Arthur?” John asks.

“Can’t tell the future anymore than you can, Marston,” Arthur said, crumpling the note in his fist. “What we can do is find the bastard who pulled the wool over our eyes, and deal with the rest as it comes along. I’ll talk to Mary-Beth tomorrow. Ask her to go back up to the saloon.”

John watched as Arthur tossed the paper into the fire, the edges curling into black.

—

You waited across the tracks from the abandoned trading post in Roanoke Ridge, taking shelter behind a sturdy tree (you’d almost hid behind one crawling with poison ivy vines, what a sight that would have been). The instructions you’d given Ernest to pass on had been clear: Whoever is sent must be on time and arrive alone. You checked your pocket watch. Already a half hour late. Out of desperation you remained a few minutes longer. The sun was almost at its peak in the sky, and you were getting hot with your scarf obscuring the lower half of your face. You cursed yourself for wearing such bulky trousers and long sleeves.

In your mind, the heist had been preferable to wasting away in the heat. With a little theater and luck, you managed to rob the train heading north. You still couldn’t believe your good fortune. Keeping your voice low and husky, the passengers and engineer had mistaken you for some hardened outlaw. You’d threatened them with your non-existent gang that was supposedly trailing close behind. In reality, the only thing riding alongside the train was the horse you’d borrowed from Ernest.

You scanned the landscape with binoculars, on the precipice of calling it a day, when you saw a pair of figures ascend the hill behind the dilapidated structure. The taller of the two was wearing a fading grey shirt that you imagined was once white, which stretched across his broad shoulders. He staked a far contrast to the companion at his left, a leaner man with dark hair that extended past a deep scar on his cheek. Both looked tough and mean. Exactly the type of men you’d hoped for.

Though two against one, the odds weren’t good if things went south.

You dropped the binoculars and reached for your rifle. Steadying yourself, you squinted through the scope, drifting down the length of their bodies until their dusty leather boots came into view. You cocked the gun, exhaled, and took the shot, aiming inches away from them.

“Shit!”

“Thought I’d said to come alone,” you called out. “If one of you gentlemen doesn’t get going, the next two bullets will be right in the forehead.”

“Jesus Christ,” the dark-haired man yelped. “Is that a woman shooting at us?”

“Woman or not, doesn’t change the fact she’s got a goddamn rifle!” the other fired back. “Alright, miss, my friend here is gonna get on his horse and leave. Ain’t that right, Marston?”

“Rode all the way out here for nothin’,'' he complained loudly and whistled. When his horse came around, he placed his foot in the stirrups and swung his leg over the saddle. “If you ain’t back by sundown, I’ll come lookin’ for you, Arthur. Hear that, lady?”

Arthur waved a dismissive hand. You waited until the horse disappeared behind the hills before coming out from the brush. At this distance, you could discern more of his features. The first of which you noticed were bright blue eyes that writers and painters alike had mused over for centuries.

He directed them at you. “There,” he said. “Happy?”

You lowered your rifle. “We’re off to a poor start, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t want no trouble. Just didn’t know what we was walkin’ into,” he said, moving closer, hands up slightly as if to not appear threatening. “You were real vague in that note of yours.”

You reaffirmed your grip on your rifle. “That’s close enough,” you said. Any closer and he’d eclipse you, your neck within snapping distance of those strong hands.

“Then, how about you tell me how this is gonna go?”

In the days leading to this moment, you’d thought of the ways you were going to approach this. Never did you imagine getting this far. “Do you have any idea why I may have invited you here?”

“To gloat, perhaps? About beatin’ us to that train?”

An involuntary upward twitch at the corner of your mouth. “Not quite, sir. I value my time and yours, so I’ll keep it short. I need you.”

Arthur pointed to himself. “You... need me?”

“Yes, you.”

He dipped his head, obscuring whatever expression he was making beneath the brim of his hat. Rubbing his neck, Arthur said, “Can’t imagine why you’d need me, lady. Accountin’ for the fact you don’t even know me.”

“I’ll rephrase. It’s not you I need exactly, it’s somebody like you. And your friend, for that matter.” You paused. “I used to have partners, too. One is dead, the other is in need of rescue. She was kidnapped. I want to hire you to help get her back.”

“Why not go to the sheriff? Seems a hell of a lot easier than getting up to all this trouble.”

“The sheriff?” you scoffed. “You really think he’d risk himself and his men to help me save a working girl from outlaws? Most likely he’d look into my background, and then I’d be arrested before I could even blink.”

“So all we gotta do is save your friend from her kidnappers and what, you’ll pay us?”

“You’ll get the money from the train, and I’ll throw in seventy dollars on top of that,” you said.

“What’s the catch?”

“Pardon me?”

“The catch,” Arthur repeated. “Seems too easy.”

“Didn’t say it’d be easy. Are you familiar with the O’Driscoll Boys?”

A spark of recognition. He was, in fact, familiar. “Yeah, I heard of ‘em. Your friend Emma… them boys captured her?”

You nodded. “A former client of hers runs with that gang. He found us in a hotel room, shot Henry, and knocked me out. When I came to, Emma was gone, and I was alone.”

“Under ordinary circumstances, I’d be glad to help,” he said. “You see, there’s someone I’d need to run this by and he’s already got it out for their leader, Colm O’Driscoll. This’d be the perfect excuse for him to do something goddamn stupid.”

“Please. If you’re familiar with them, you can imagine how awful it must be for her. I’ll even give you half the money upfront,” you said, decocking your rifle and slipping it back over your shoulder by its leather strap.

“Can’t promise nothin’, but I’ll talk it over with some people tonight. Meet me at that saloon in two days, same time. If it goes in your favor, I’ll take you to see the man who makes all the decisions.”

“Are you going to make me wait again?” you asked.

“You’re the one asking for favors, miss.”

“I’m offering a job.”

Arthur’s lips set into a hard line. “A job that might get us into a world of trouble, adding fuel to a fire that’s been burnin’ for a long time now. Frankly, you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

And because you didn’t want to push your luck, you fell silent. You watched him call for his horse and mount it.

“I’ll be on time,” he mumbled as an afterthought, and rode off in the direction he came.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Do-S Kyuuketsu VERSUS Ⅲ Vol.3 Subaru VS Kou [Track 1]

Original title: パーティーへの招待状

Source: Diabolik Lovers VERSUS III Vol. 3 Subaru VS Kou [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here (0:00 ~ 11:36)

Seiyuu: Takashi Kondou & Kimura Ryouhei

Translator’s note: I have been really craving some Subaru lately but since he’s my bias, I already translated pretty much all of his solo CDs. ;w; There’s still a few VERSUS ones I have yet to translate though, so I decided to tackle the one with Kou first! I’m not a huge fan of Kou by himself, but I love the rivalry and playful banter between him and Subaru. uwu The two of them are just so different, it makes for some really hialrious interactions!

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 ll Track 6

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 1: Invitation to the Party

*Flip*

Subaru: Haah...God, that bastard. Sending us this damn invitation! The fuck’s his problem!? I’m not in the mood for this shit right now!

Subaru starts ripping up the letter.

Subaru: ...Ugh! ...Haah...I feel on edge ‘cause of the Old Man’s powers...That guy continues to be a pain in the ass even in death. And she takes part of the blame too! Simply noddin’ her head and acceptin’ this shit...It’s annoyin’...

You walk up to him.

Subaru: ...Aah? What? Do you need somethin’ from me?

You explain.

Subaru: Ah? You’re talkin’ ‘bout the invitation from earlier? Hah! You really think I would read that crap? Don’t you know what those scraps of paper scattered ‘bout your feet are?

You look down, seemingly upset.

Subaru: Che...What part of this is so ‘horrible’? ...Actually, are you that worried ‘bout that guy? ...Aah!?

He punches the wall.

*THUD*

Subaru: For one, didn’t I tell you to stay away from other guys where possible!? ...Yet you accepted this shit like it’s nothin’. Are you makin’ fun of me or somethin’!?

You shake your head.

Subaru: Then what are you playin’ at? I don’t know what kind of invitation it was, but I’m sure he’s plottin’ somethin’ by invitin’ uーー

You explain.

Subaru: Haah...? ‘Work anniversary’...? (1) The fuck’s that? ...Hm? Ahー That guy’s doin’ this idol shit or somethin’, isn’t he? ...Hah. Ridiculous. And why do we have to show our faces there? I’m not goin’.

You frown.

Subaru: Actually, you better not think of goin’ either.

You protest.

Subaru: Tsk...Like I said...Ugh!

*Thud*

Subaru: I don’t care ‘bout these stupid celebrations. This whole time, he’s been the only one on your mind! Do you want to get wrecked by me that badly!? You are mine. Don’t think ‘bout anythin’ or anyone but me. Understood?

You tilt your head to the side.

Subaru: Che...Look at you playin’ dumb. ...Okay then. Then I’ll just have to teach who you belong to directly to your body, until it gets through to you.

*RIIIIIIIP*

Subaru: Che...Pipe down! You only have yourself to blame for this, right!?

Subaru bites you.

*Gulp gulp*

Subaru: ...Haah!

*Gulp gulp*

Subaru: Mmh...Hah! Haah, haah...Don’t be screamin’ already...Don’t pretend like you don’t enjoy the intense pain. That’s why I’m ーー

*Gulp gulp*

Subaru: ...Makin’ it hurt on purpose like this. Heh! Next up’s...

*Rustle*

Subaru: Now where to suck from...? Haah...

He grabs hold of your wrist and squeezes down.

Subaru: Right here? This wrist of yours which looks like I could snap it in two? Hehe...I wonder how you’ll cry out if I were to pierce my fangs throug here?

He bites you once more.

*Gulp gulp gulp*

Subaru: ...Haah...Your blood really is as sweet as ever...

*Gulp gulp gulp*

Subaru: Mmh...Nn...Hah...Heh! Throwin’ in the towel already? However, it’s too early for that. I’m sure you haven’t had enough, have you? You should still be miles away from feelin’ satisfied. I’ll engrave my fangs more and more...!

*Gulp gulp gulp*

Subaru: Mm...

*Gulp gulp gulp*

*TIMESKIP*

Subaru: ーー Haah...! Oi, you...Che...She lost consciousness.

*Rustle rustle*

Subaru: Geez...Guess I have no other choice. I’ll put her to bed in our room.

Subaru picks you up.

*Rustle*

Subaru: ...Huh? Che. This stupid invitation from earlier, huh?

*Flip*

Subaru: Haah...A party, huh? Che...What a drag. However, it might be a good opportunity to show that guy she’s mine.

He crumbles up the invitation before walking away. 

*TIMESKIP*

The scene shifts to the party.

Subaru: Haah...Why are there this many people!? It’s annoyin’...

He tries to loosen his collar.

Subaru: Ugh...These clothes are hella uncomfortable as well...Che. I regret comin’ here already...

You chuckle.

Subaru: Meanwhile, you seem to be havin’ a blast, huh? Wearin’ one of those frilly dresses...

You frown.

Subaru: I never said it looks weird on you...But...Knowin’ you’re wearin’ it for that guy, it pisses me off...

You ask Subaru to repeat himself.

Subaru: Haah!? I said nothin’...! ...A-Anyway, where’s that jerk, huh? He had the nerve to invite us to this crap, I gotta at least land one good punch on his face or my evening won’t be compleーー

Kou: Ah! Ooiii~!

Kou runs up to them.

Kou: Well, well, if it isn’t Subaru-kun~? I was convinced you wouldn’t show up, but here you are!

Subaru: ...Che. You finally show yourself, huh? Aren’t you the one who invited us?

Kou: That’s true but personally, I would have been fine if it was just M-neko-chan who showed up~ I guess you still can’t say no to her, huh?

Subaru: Hmph! I’m not here ‘cause she asked me! I’m here to show you who she truly belongs to.

Kou: Hmm~? Look at you go. ...Fufu, oh well~ M-neko-chan, thank you once again for coming today. I’m really glad you’re here!

Subaru: Oi, who gives a shit ‘bout that!? ...More importantly, why did you invite us? Whatcha plottin’?

Kou: Please don’t immediately assume the worst of me! I genuinely just wanted M-neko-chan to congratulate me. ...Also, I figured there was something I should ask you.

Subaru: Ask me?

Kou: Exactly. Like how it feels to have inherited that man’s powers, for example.

Subaru: ...!? Youーー!

Kou: I know, I know! Don’t glare at me like that! For now, let’s just enjoy the party, okay? ...That being said~ 

Kou kneels down in front of you.

Subaru: O-Oi...!? Whatcha suddenly kneelin’ down for!?

Kou: M-neko-chan looks like a lovely princess in her dress today, so if I want to thank her, I should adapt to that, right? Say, give me your hand for a second?

*Rustle*

Kou: Thank you for coming today.

*Smooch*

Subaru: Wha...!? Oi, Kou...! You bastard!? The fuck you think you’re doin’ to somebody else’s girl!? Let go of her hand!

Kou: Don’t wanna! Also, could you stop saying such selfish things? Nobody ever said she only belongs to you, so stop getting in my way!

Kou tugs you his way.

*Rustle*

Kou: Well then, you’re coming with me~ 

Subaru: ...Fuck off! Let go already!

A crowd of people suddenly gathers around them.

Subaru: ...!? The fuck’s wrong with these bastards!? They’re suddenly pushin’ me ‘round...!? 

*Clap clap clap*

Kou: Don’t call them ‘bastards’. They’re my precious guests after all! Fufu~ ...Thank you for coming today, everyone! I’ll greet you all one by one, so hang on tight, okay~?

The crowd cheers.

Subaru: ...Wai...!? Oi...!? Move out of the waーー!?

Subaru gets swallowed by the crowd.

Kou: Come on now, no pushing!

You start walking away but Kou grabs your hand.

Kou: Hold it. Where do you think you’re going.

You seem surprised.

Kou: Heh. Exactly. Just stay like that. ...Anyway, thank you all once again for coming today, everyone! I’ll keep on working hard, so I’m counting on all of you for the support!

*Clap clap clap*

Kou: Eh? This girl? Fufu~ This girl, you see...She’s my special someone. Isn’t she a real cutie?

You panic.

Kou: No need to panic, it’s fine. I didn’t invite any of my fangirls today. ...Fufu~ As you can tell, the two of us are totally head over heels for each other~ That being said, I’m really craving some alone time with her right now, so I’ll talk to you all later, okay~?

*Rustle*

Kou: Let’s go, M-neko-chan~

You ask about Subaru.

Kou: Huuh~? Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen Subaru-kun for a hot minute now. I wonder where he ran off to? Perhaps he got swallowed by the crowd earlier? ...Oh well~ This is perfect if it means I get to keep you all for myself~ Fufu~ Let’s hurry! I prepared a room for us in the back!

The two of you walk away.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) 活躍記念 or ‘katsuyaku-kinen’ literally means ‘remembrance of starting an activity/job/etc.’, meaning Kou was celebrating his (insert year) anniversary since he began working as an idol.

[writingfandomfeels]

Santa Fe Part 3

Jumping Jack

Part 3 of the Santa Fe Series Summary: You begin to suspect you’re pregnant and when you tell Jack, he has a reaction that surprises you

“Y/N! You’re on in five!!!” A voice called from the hallway. 

“Okay, thanks!” You managed to spit out before your stomach spasmed again, hurling your insides out and into the trash bin you were knelt over. Your knuckles were white from gripping the edges so tightly. 

A moment later, Medda was in the dressing room with you. 

“Oh sweetheart, not again.” She said, concern in her voice. 

“I’m fine.” You stated, but your voice was shaky and you were exhausted. You could hardly keep your eyes open. 

Medda shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. Go home, get some rest.” 

“But the show.” You replied weakly. 

“Darling that’s why we have understudies.” Medda said, grabbing a tissue and handing it to you. “You know what this means though, don’t you?” 

You took the tissue and wiped at your mouth, nodding slowly. Medda had seen all the signs and symptoms the last few weeks and although you knew it too, you had a hard time accepting the truth. 

“Even more reason to go home and tell that boy.” She advised, helping you to your feet. 

Despite having your own place now, Jack spent most of his time still at the lodge. He said he didn’t want the guys to feel like he was abandoning them. So this was the first place you went to look for him. He was laughing along with the rest of the newsies, the group of them all circled together and talking. 

“Hey!” Jack’s eyes met with yours. “Whatta you doin’ ‘ere?” He smiled and reached his arms out to you as he approached. 

“Jack, can we talk?” You asked quietly but the others still heard and fell silent. 

You glanced around the room as the newsies stared back at you, concerned. 

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go t’ the roof.” He said, putting his arm around your waist and guiding you out of the room. 

Despite the cool fresh air of the rooftop, you still couldn’t help but begin to nervously pace. 

“You feelin’ any better?” He asked, his hands in his pockets as he watched you. He’d heard you throwing up every morning for the last while but you managed to convince him it was probably a stomach bug. 

You shook your head. “Jack between this and… and the other stuff…” You thought about the fatigue, dizziness, headaches, and mood swings among other things but most importantly your lack of period. 

“You- you mean…” Jack stammered, his face turning white. 

You nodded, unable to bring yourself to say the words. 

He spun around, gripping his hat. “How-” he started, “how the hell did this- when did this happen?!” 

You shrugged. “I mean I can’t say when exactly, but Jack… all we ever do is pull out… it happens sometimes.” 

“It happens sometimes?!” He echoed, now pacing too. “I-” he tried but couldn’t get any words out. “I gotta take a minute t’ think ‘bout this.” He began climbing down the ladder. 

Your heart pounded as he left. What if he never came back? No, not possible. You knew he would never do that to you. He just had to process it and that was okay. You stayed up on the roof for a while, eventually laying down. The stars overhead calmed your nerves and you felt a peace wash over you as you drifted to sleep. 

“Y/N, Y/N!” Jack whispered, over you. 

You shifted and rubbed your eyes open. Damn, was sleeping on the roof always this uncomfortable? The sun wasn’t even up yet, so you weren’t sure how long you’d been asleep for but it felt like it’d been an eternity. 

“Let’s get married!” Jack enthused. 

“Wait… what?” You sat up now. 

“Let’s get married!” He repeated. 

You stared at him, brows furrowed as you tried to process this. 

“C’mon, let’s go!” He excitedly took your hands and helped you to your feet. “Oh wait, I don’t got no ring… that’s okay, we can get one later.”  He began to walk toward the ladder. 

“Jack, wait.” You stopped and he turned to look at you. “Why now? Aren’t we jumping into things a little fast?” 

He approached you and took your hand back in his. “Well I talked it over with the guys, and ya’ know I never want you to worry if I’m gonna’ leave you and our kid alone in the streets. I wanna’ promise you I won’t.” 

You smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

“‘Sides,” he added, “it’s the right thing to do, and I love ya’, do we need a better reason?” 

You shook your head smiling, and followed him down the ladder. On the last rung you let yourself jump down, the excitement lifting you. Once on the street though, it occurred to you that his plan wasn’t exactly well thought out. 

“Wait a second, none of the churches will be open at this hour, will they?” You asked, looking to your love. 

He held your hand and continued to lead you down the dark street to the nearest church. The nuns there often fed the newsies. 

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout it. The guys are already there wakin’ em up for this.” He said. 

You blinked. “What?” But either he didn’t hear you or ignored you and you soon arrived at the church. 

A fairly large group of boys were crowded around a doorway. 

“Jack… did you send… all the guys?” You asked but once again he didn’t answer. 

“Mr. DaSilva, I ask again, is this an emergency?” The priest asked from the door that lead to his quarters. He stood in his sleepwear, which included a long nightcap, and held a candle. 

“Ain’t nothin’ more important than true love, Father!” Crutchie enthused. “They’s gonna ‘ave a baby!” 

“A baby?! Shall I fetch the nuns then?” The priest looked alarmed. 

“Nah, not right this second, Father!” Albert explained then lightly pushed Crutchie. “Look, now ya got him all freaked out.” 

“Oh, sorry Father.” Crutchie apologized, taking off his hat. 

“They ain’t gon’ have the baby for another… how many months does it take?” Albert asked, looking to Race. 

“Nine?” Race suggested though he wasn’t completely confident in his answer. 

“Nine months!” Albert replied to the tired man. 

“Then why are you here?” The priest asked, getting annoyed. 

“Father, sir,” Jack said, now approaching while still holding your hand. The other boys parted to make way for him. “Would ya’ please do me the honor of marryin’ me and my girl, Y/N tonight? Ya’ see, I just found out we’s expectin’ a baby and I know it’s the right thing to do an’ all and even if it wasn’t I’d still be ‘ere,” he turned to face you, “askin’ her eventually.” Jack smiled. “Just so happens fate be makin’ it a little sooner. But I love her, I do.” 

You smiled back at him and his thumb rubbed your hand for a moment. 

The priest sighed, realizing the crowd of boys wouldn’t let him rest until they were satisfied. “Very well. Let me get my robes and bible.” 

The newsies cheered and Jack embraced you in a hug. 

***

You let out a frustrated sigh as you flopped down onto the bed in the room that you and your, now husband, rented. It wasn’t in the best of neighborhoods and you knew you couldn’t keep up living there much longer. 

“You alright?” Jack asked from the chair in the corner. Other than the bed the only other pieces of furniture the room held was that chair and a table, which were all there before your move in. 

You sat up on the bed now. “I just spoke with Medda.” You started. “She says I can’t sing there anymore.” 

“What?! Why?!” Jack exclaimed. 

You looked from him down to your growing stomach and back. “Why the hell do you think?” 

“She fired you ‘cause you pregnant? That ain’t right” Jack shook his head. “I’ll go talk t’ her.” 

“What? No! I can fight my own battles, thank you. Besides, she didn’t fire me. She said I can return just as soon as the baby is born.” You sighed. “It’s just her girls… they have a certain look. They gotta be sexy…” 

“Darlin’ you’s always sexy, don’t be ridiculous.” He said, joining you on the bed and kissing your forehead. 

“Thanks babe, but I get it. We’ve been finding ways to hide my stomach as best we can but it’s just not working anymore. And when was the last time you saw a pregnant lady in show business? Exactly.” You said. 

Jack was quiet for a moment. “Okay, well, that’s okay. You can still go back to it after the baby like she said. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can get some extra money with-” 

“Rents due next week.” You reminded. 

“Damn.” He breathed. But he didn’t want to stress you, he knew how bad stress could be on a pregnancy so he decided to try and stay positive for your sake. “That’s okay, we’ll work something out. Maybe Davey or his family can loan us a bit. Just for now.” 

You groaned at the idea of owing people money, even if it was a friend. Leaving the bed, you moved to the chair and picked up the mail that was sitting on the table. There was a letter from your parents. As much as you hated to go backwards instead of forwards in life you didn’t see any other option at the moment. 

“We’ve gotta move back in with my parents.” You stated. 

“You mean… Santa Fe?” Jack asked, the usual sparkle in his eye whenever he said the name.

[seanhowe]

“For Dave Glover” by Bob Dylan, 1963

Dave Glover:  “[Dylan] said, well, they called me up and they wanted something for the Newport Book, and they needed it like in a week, and I didn’t have it. I said, well, I don’t have anything. And they said, well, anything, have you got anything laying around, is there anything you started? He said, well, I got this letter I was writing to a friend of mine. And they said, well, great. So, actually about the first two lines of that are actually a letter to me as this pretext for writing this sort of recapitulation about where he is, and what he’s doing, and what he’s been up to. That was cool. I didn’t mind. It was okay. It was kind of weird.”

Yuh ask in the last letter how come I aint wrote lately 

Yuh say that writin t me’s like blowin words at a stone wall

Yuh ask in a quiet way if I changed my ways so hard that I don remember old friends 

Yuh even ask if I’m mad at yuh for somethin

An with each letter sent yuh never got a one back 

An I know how yuh mus’ feel

Dave Glover—harmonica sidekick an guitar pardner

Dave Glover—best friend in the highest form

Dave Glover—true rebel an unconscious outlaw

Dave Glover—ramblin do-gooder a the best breed

Dave Glover—who knew me before I hit or got hit by New York City 

Dave Glover—who's everythin I stand for or am a part of

An I don even answer a letter from ‘m

I don even answer one little lousey letter

An I ask m’self am I crazy

This is Dave writin t you, man

This is somebody you love

We used t drink cough medicine bottles a vodka t'gether 

We used t stay up all nite laughin and singin 

And we did that when there weren't too many people doin it 

Hey man—I'm sorry— // I mean I'm really sorry 

I wrote many lines in the past few years but there ain't no letters in none a the words t spell out how sorry I am 

It's a complicated day 

I keep rememberin the songs we used t sing an play 

The songs written thirty fifty years ago 

The dirt farm songs - the dust bowl songs 

The depression songs - the down and out songs 

The ol blues and ballads 

I think a Woody's songs 

I think a Woody's day 

"This land I'll defend with my life if it be" 

An I say t myself "Yeah that's right" 

"Hitler's on the march" 

"I don't wan''m takin my ground" 

"I don't wan''m livin on my land" 

An I see two sides man 

I see two roads to pick yer route 

The American way or the Fascist way 

When there was a strike there's only two kind of views 

An two kinds of tales t tell the news 

Thru the unions eyes or thru the bosses eyes 

An yuh could stand on a line an look at yer friends 

An stand on that same line an see yer foes 

It was that easy 

"Which Side're You On" ain't phony words 

An they ain't from a phony song 

An that was Woody's day man 

Two sides 

I don know what happened cause I wasn't aroun but somewhere along the line a that used t be day things got messed up 

More kinds a sides come int' the story 

Folks I guess started switchin sides an makin up their own sides 

There got t be so many sides that no eyes could could see the eyes facin'm 

There got t be so many sides that all of'm started lookin' like each other 

I don pretend to know what happened man, but somehow all sides lost their purpose an folks forgot about other folks 

I mean they must a all started goin against each other not for the good a their side but for the good a jes their own selves 

An them two simple sides that was so easy t tell apart bashed an boomed an exploded so hard an heavy that t'day all'ts left and made for us is the one big rockin rollin 

COMPLICATED CIRCLE

Nowadays folk's brains're bamboozled an bowled over by categories labels an slogans an advertisements that could send anybody's head in a spin It's hard t believe anybody's tellin the truth for what that is I swear it's true that in some parts a the country folks believe the finger-pointers more'n the President It's the time a the flag wavin shotgun carryin John Birchers It's the time a the killer dogs an killer sprays It's the time a the billboard sign super flyin highways It's the time a the pushbutton foods an five minute fads It's the time a the white collar shirt an the white sheeted hood and the white man's sun tan lotion It's time a guns and grenades an bombs bigger'n any time's ever seen It's the time a Liz Taylor fans - sports fans and electric fans It's the time when a twenty year ol colored boy with his head bloody don get too much thought from the seventy year ol senator who wants t bomb Cuba I don't know who the people were man that let it get this way but they got what they wanted out a their lives an left me an you facin a scared raped world They frained the free thinkin air an left us with a mental institution circle They rotted the poor wind and left us mixed up mislead puny breeze They stole Abraham Lincoln's road an sold us Bill Moore's highway They shot down trees - buried the leaves an nailed "Profess" t the gravestone They damned up the clear runnin river of "Love thy neighbor" said by Jesus Christ a Bethlehem an poluted us with "I'll guard" "the school with my body" said by governor Wallace of Alabama They robbed the Constitution of the land an snuck in the censors of the mind They bought up everythin at the auction an left us with a garbage market a fools an fears an frustratin phoniness Yuh ask how I'm doin Dave I'm still singin - I'm still writin I'm still doin all a things I used to do I guess But the difference is probably that now I really ain't thinkin about what I'm doing no more I do worry no more bout the covered up lies and twisted truth in front a my eyes I don worry no more bout the no-talent criticizers an know-nothin philosophizers I don worry no more bout the cross-legged corner sitters who try an make rules for the ones travelin in the middle a the room I'm singin an writin what's on my own mind now What's in my own head and what's in my own heart I'm singin for me an a million other me's that've been forced t'gether by the same feelinNot by no kind a side Not by no kind a category People hung up and strung out People frustrated an corked in an bottled up People on no special form or field - age limit or class I can't sing "Red Apple juice" no more I gotta sing "masters a War" I can't sing "Little Maggie" with a clear head I gotta sing "Seven Curses" instead I can't sing "John Henry" I gotta sing "Hollis Brown" I can't Sing "John Johannah" cause it's his story an his people's story I gotta sing "With God On My Side" cause it's my story an my people's I can't sing "The Girl I Left Behind" cause I know what it's like to do it I gotta sing "Boots a Spanish Leather" cause I know what's like to live it But don't get me wrong now Don think I go way out a my way not t sing no folk songs That ain't it at all The folk songs showed me the way They showed me that songs can say somethin human Without "Barbara Allen" there'd be no "Girl From The North Country" Without no "Lone Green Valley" there'd be no "Don't Think Twice" Without no "Jesse James" there'd be no "Davy Moore" Without no "Twenty one Years" there'd be no "Walls a Red Wing" Hell no Them ol songs're the only kinda picture left t show the new born how it used t be in them times Them ol songs tell us what they had t run thru or walk thru or dance thru The ol songs tell how they loved an how they kissed They tell us what they rejected and objected to They laid it down an made the path They were simple an told the story straight They said who they fought an what they fought for an with what they fought with An who they fought against Now's a complicated day An all I'm sayin' is'at I gotta make my own statement bout this day I gotta write my own feelins down the same way they did it before me in that used t be day An I got nothin but homage an holy thinkin for the ol songs and stories But now there's me an you An I'm doin what I'm doin for me An I'm doin what I'm doin for you I'm writin an singin for me An I'm writin an singin for you I'm writin an singin for me cause I'm human an I'm breathin In a world that was made for me I'm writin an singin for you cause yer a part a me an everythin I stand for I don know why I aint written t yuh maybe cause I never write letters t'myself yeah maybe that's why See yuh when I get there yer friend Bob Dylan

[themockingcrows]

Companionship Through Circuitry ch. 6: Setbacks

Bro/Hal cw: blood, violence, deathclaws, and a generally bad day in the wasteland

Journeys are never without their inherent dangers. When you're living in the wasteland, it's to be expected. Doesn't make them suck any less, though.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20942408/chapters/64071430

     I spy with my little eye-

     “Hal, pick a new game already.”

     I can assure you this is the best game to play out here.

     “Fine,” Bro said, exhausted. They’d been traveling for days on the remains of the highway by now and there was no sign of a proper township. He smelled, his back and legs hurt, and despite having plenty of food water was always a precious commodity. He also had at least four letters to send by now, including a few sketches and schematics he’d designed after toying with the Furby body some more, in case Dave wanted to get his hands on a little guardian bot of his own. The kid was smart, even he’d be able to handle basic scripting to make a functional system for it. Surely someone else he was buddies with could figure out an AI of sorts for it, too. 

     True, it would have been easier to follow another path by now, but following the main point of the highway just seemed the best, most direct route for him. Who’s to say it was brahmin who made the trodden paths that led further into the wastes, or humans? What if it was mutants, or worse, deathclaws stalking the wastelands? Scuttling parties of mole rats or vicious dogs.

     Would you like to know what I spy or not, Bro.

     “I don’t want to know, but I’ve got a feelin’ you’re gonna tell me anyway aren’t you.”

     Correct! I’ll give you a few hints.

     Bro groaned in irritation.

     “A bloatfly,” he guessed off the bat.

     No, though it is annoying.

     “As annoyin’ as you? Why isn’t there a fuckin’ mute option on these shades..”

     Your second hint is that it’s bipedal.

     That perked him up somewhat. Bro scanned the horizon further off for signs of a city or outpost, a wanderer, a courier. Anyone. Instead what he saw was the lanky, sharply pointed edges of a juvenile deathclaw. A definite pain in the ass, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

     “...And how long have we been in deathclaw territory for, Hal?”

     Uncertain, my saved map mentions shopping centers, not deathclaws.

     “Ooh, shopping centers?” he said. “Put a peg in it, if we find somewhere to trade soon we might do a run back to grab some more supplies for trade and keepin’.”

     The deathclaw is still nearby, you know.

     “I can avoid it if I want,” Bro said, taking out his sword. A juvenile would take some fast work, but he knew he was good for dispatching the monstrosities, and people paid good money for their clawed hands, even the small ones. Hell, even he wanted some bits off of one sometime, though mostly for show. How sick would a deathclaw fang necklace be, after all?

     You appear to be approaching the small one instead of fleeing.

     “Watch and learn, Hal,” Bro said as he shifted his weight and began to run. Aching feet or not, his boots cut into the crisp cooked layer of topsoil and sank ever so slightly with each step. The deathclaw noticed him and turned, beginning to awkwardly run towards him, long limbs ungainly but just as deadly as an adult. They met in the middle, Bro’s sword singing off the armored hide of the creature’s forearms, taking a chunk with it as he went. The deathclaw lunged for his middle with a shrill noise, catching a chunk of shirt on the end of one of its spiky hands, but just missing his tender vitals. He turned, and used the momentum to slice at the space where its behorned head connected to its body, the sword sliding against softer skin. Staggered, the small deathclaw stepped forward, then tottered back unsteadily as it began to bleed out.

     Bro lifted a foot and kicked the creature backwards to its spiny back, then followed with the sword to spear its chest, cranking the blade to the side once it glanced off a rib, forcing downwards till it stopped moving. Planting his boot on its chest, he yanked his sword free and swung it in the air a few times to rid it of blood, and smirked. Fuck, that felt good. Nothing like taking out a little nightmare to give a nice rush of adrenaline and dopamine. Hell, he wouldn’t even say no to a smoke or a drink right now, ride that high long as he could.

     Excellent, now how do you intend to deal with the mother?

     “Mother?” Bro asked, about a half second before he felt something plow into him like a freight train, sending him flying and pain searing through his right shoulder blade. He landed flat on his face and skidded before rolling over, hand on his sword raising it defensively and other hand reaching for his gun.

     Shit. Shit, shit, this was definitely a mother death claw, the hide was darker than usual. He must’ve just killed one of her brood. Not a good look for someone not interested in dying in the middle of nowhere. He fired a quick two shots, missing the first and nailing her in the left eye  with the second, though it only seemed to make her more enraged after a brief second of shaking her head. She raised a hand and slashed downwards where Bro was scooting backwards, forcing him to block with a weakened grip before the second slash sang home across his chest, blood spurting where her claws shredded flesh and fabric alike. One of the straps of Bro’s bags was severed, leaving him half dragging it as he continued to try crawling backwards, firing till his clip was empty.

     Hal was urgently trying to tell him something, but Bro couldn’t hear anymore, couldn’t think, could only focus on the burning in his chest and the taste of copper in his mouth. Things were flashing through his mind as he stared down the deathclaw, who was raising both of her hands for a double slash that he wouldn’t be able to block in the slightest. Things he still wanted to do, to say. Memories.

     Dave the day he left home to travel to the city, bag on his back and barely a look back as he wove past the traps. Dave as a lanky tween, perched by his side on the counter top as he cooked an omelette for them both, telling him a joke that he still didn’t think was funny but that he’d laughed at anyway. Dave at five, sitting on his lap as he fiddled with a new project that would eventually become a birthday present game for him, looking up at him with big red eyes almost full of tears when he refused to tell him what he was working on.

     Dave, still struggling to put weight on as an infant as Bro kept him warm on the sofa through a bout of fever, trying to coax him into eating just a bit more from the bottle, wondering if he should make the trek to find a doctor or keep hunkering down and hoping it would work itself out. Being scared out of his fucking mind about this tiny, sick thing in his arms and on his chest, worried he’d break if he moved wrong.

     This wasn’t fear he felt. It was acceptance. Dave being sick or hurt was fear, even when he’d been the one to hurt him in the preparations he’d run repeatedly over the years. A deathclaw? This was his just rewards for being cocky without backup. He wanted to have time to apologize to Dave, like he always really meant to.

     He wanted to apologize to Hal, too, for not managing to take him to get his body. For getting his hopes up about Dirk and then dying with him in the middle of nowhere. Maybe the shades would get crushed by the deathclaw after he died, spare him much misery. They’d both just go out like a candle in the breeze and nobody would be any the wiser.

     A shot rang out, and blood spurted from the side of the deathclaw’s head. She staggered, stomping her sharp feet on his abdomen and legs as she adjusted her balance and snarled in alarm at the new threat. More shots, each one more precise than the last, till finally one hit the same eye he’d shot earlier, and the beast went down on top of him. Though his ears were still ringing, Bro could feel his pulse slowing down and everything going darker as the feeling of faintness took over.

     Bro. Bro!

     “Sorry, Dave,” he mumbled, blood on his lips and eyes unfocusing as red eyes stared at him. No, wait, not Dave. “Hal..”

     AMBROSE.

     The last thing Bro was aware of was a high pitched repeated beeping pattern ringing out from the shades on his face, a signal he knew so well. Anyone out here could recognize SOS when they heard it, but Bro couldn’t care anymore who did hear it.

     Darkness claimed him.

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

     “...p. See? I think he’s waking up! Jake, push more fluids!”

     “I’m going as fast as I can, don’t you think he’d bl-........”

     “...ver if we don’t. Sometimes you have to do dangerous things in a time of crisis, just pu-...”

     “...rry chap, we’re doing our best. Why were you playing with a deathclaw mot-...”

     “...’s going under again, God damn it why don’t we have more gauze!”

     “...aid last time we wouldn’t need that many, let me check his ba-...”

     “....tting sick, stupid coat, ugh! Hand me a clo-...”

     “...ehozaphat he’s rolling in meds and chems! Lookit all this, it’s a kings ran-...”

     “...ab whatever you can, inject him with at least two, and hand the alcohol to me so I ca-...”

     “...nk he’ll make it? He’s in an awful way, Jade. We’re still at least a few miles out fro-...”

     “...re he’ll make it, we just need to hur-...”

     ...ve him. Please. Pulse is falling at an alarming ra-...

     “...re trying our best, believe me, it’s up to him if we ca-...”

     ...n’t lose him to-...

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

     When Ambrose woke, it was to clean sheets and a bright light coming from a window. He reached up to touch his face and panicked to realize the shades weren’t on him any longer, looking around as he tried to sit stark upright to look around. Tried being the correct term, considering when he got a few inches upright his abdomen and chest sang with burning pain and forced him to lay back on an aching shoulder. Sighing an exhale, Bro took the room and himself into account.

     The room itself looked to be a standard medical setup for a scap town, shelves of supplies and a few more beds shoved into the same room with him, a shabby gray curtain sectioning the space off from another area. He was laying on a cot with the aforementioned clean sheets, which were a hell of a commodity, and wrapped what felt like head to toe in bandages. His chest had padding underneath that seemed fresh enough, as well as his abdomen, and another bandage seemed to be wrapping his shoulder. His forearms had bandages, a shift of his legs revealed smaller areas of wrappings and-

     Bro snatched the sheets and lifted them upwards, looking down towards his groin in worry. Okay. Phew. Dick still there and in one piece, no need to panic. Thank fuck.

     Were you honestly more concerned for your dick than me? Came a voice from the top of the shelves, arms folded in and tucked at an angle to not get damaged or in the way.

     “To be fair, I’ve been attached to my dick longer than you,” Bro said, giving another try at this standing thing and getting as far as sitting upright before he had to stop, dizzy. He was also connected to an IV he realized, two bags half drained already and the tether attached to his arm carefully with another bandage and some tape to keep it from moving. One of the bags was unmistakably blood. “Where’s my stuff.”

     I’m fine, thank you for asking. I can really tell you were concerned for my safety after being nearly disemboweled. I can also tell you’re just dying to know how you went about not dying.

     “My stuff, Hal.”

     In the other room, safe and fucking sound.

     “Thank you. Gimme a second and I’ll come get you,” Bro said, running a hand through his hair. He realized with surprise that it was clean instead of gritty with sand and dust and blood, freshly washed like the rest of him. Someone had taken care to wash him thoroughly it seemed. Hell, even his fingernails were spotless. Shocking. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been this squeaky clean, it was almost a shame he didn’t remember it. “How long have I been out?”

     Almost a week.

     “Jesus,” Bro rasped as he finally stood up on shaky fawn legs, reaching for the IV stand for balance before making his way over to the shelf, naked as the day he was born save for the bandages. He groped for the shades hurriedly when he started feeling faint again, and had just grabbed them when the curtain pulled back.

     A tall girl with dark skin, shocking green eyes and long wild hair tied back into evenly sectioned ponytails stood owl eyed behind large round glasses with a single crack in the left lens, a stethoscope around her neck and familiar leftover military gear covering her from head to toe. She frowned, and immediately rushed forward to grab Bro by the elbow and middle of his back, steering him back to bed.

     “How long have you been awake!” she asked. “Why didn’t you wait till someone came to help you? Are you in pain? Do you need any water? Food?”

     “Few minutes,” Bro said, more than a little startled. He sat and covered himself soon as he could, but the young woman didn’t back off in the slightest, swooping close to shine a pocket light in his eyes, checking his pupils.

     “Has there been any bleeding? Any night terrors? Do you have any numbness or weaknesses?”

     “I feel like shit, but otherwise,” Bro said, grimacing and jerking his head back from her grasp as she turned the light off.

     “I’ll get Jake to bring some lunch in for you, I’m glad you’re not running on glucose anymore. Actually, I’m glad you’re running at all,” she said with a grin. Her canines were strangely sharp looking. “My name is Jade Harley, and I’m half of the reason you’re alive right now.”

     “Is the chap who tried to cuddle the wrong end of a mother deathclaw awake yet?” asked another voice from beyond the open curtain.

     “He is! Get some of those mirelurk cakes and mac and cheese, please?”

     “I’ll bring some of that slackjaw jerky too, I imagine he’s half starved for real food,” said the male out of sight, before Bro heard distant sounds of dishes and metal scraping metal.

     “...So what, you a doctor?” he guessed.

     “We both are, in our own right. My cousin, Jake English, is the one who spotted you first out there. The primary reason you’re alive, however, is because we’re both sharpshooters! There wouldn’t have been much left to save if we hadn’t pegged that bitch into the dirt,” she said enthusiastically.

     Bro’s lip twitched in amusement. This person couldn’t have been older than her early twenties, but she was a doctor? And a sharpshooter?

     “So who really saved me?”

     Jade’s smile sharpened somewhat, looking predatory. “I don’t think I’d tease like that when you’re still so weak. All it’d take is a cushion to take you out right now, I bet.”

     “Sorry, just. You’re so young…” he trailed off as another figure entered the room with a dinner tray. This person didn’t look much older than Jade if he was a day, face clean shaven and hair styled but messy, standing at about the same height. He looked much more solid, though, shoulders broad and chest straining a little at the fatigues shirt he wore, and his demeanor seemed much sweeter than his cousin at first glance. More innocent somehow, or somehow less aware of the intensity of their surroundings.

     “Here you are, I’ll get some juice for you as well in a few ticks. First time I’m seeing this much of your outside as opposed to your inside since we got you scrubbed down!” he laughed, setting the tray on Bro’s lap. The food smelled fresh and was warm on his thighs beneath the sheet, mirelurk cakes looking greasy and delicious, mac and cheese that smelled plenty creamy from the box, and some kind of soft looking jerky rubbed with spices that made his mouth water as much as the fresh stuff before him

     “Try to eat slow,” Jade warned him as Jake trotted back out of view for a moment and came back with juice as promised. “Hope apple’s okay! It’s what we’ve got.”

     “Apple’s fine,” Bro promised, tucking into the mac and cheese first, eyes closing in bliss. Salty, creamy, rich. He could feel it flooding his system already, a body starved for nutrients beyond the bare minimum of functioning and safety. Once he shoveled a second bite into his mouth, he slid the shades onto his face and grinned a bit when haughty red eyes looked at him. Hal was clearly annoyed, angry even, but those eyes were full of concern too.

     “We’ve got tea too, though not everyone enjoys what we brew,” Jake chuckled.

     “Their loss, it’s delicious,” said Jade with a shake of her head.

     Scans show temperature readings as normal. Pulse normal. Pupils overly reactive to light, but not abnormal.

     “I hope he didn’t talk your leg off,” Bro said. “He’s kind of annoyin’.”

     You have terminal stupidity, I propose an immediate lobotomy to put you out of my misery.

     “Will you knock it off for ten seconds and let me eat before rippin’ me a new one?”

     It’s true. The doctor said so. You’re just stupid.

     “You were snuck up on by a creature twice your size in the wasteland,” Jade pointed out with a smirk. “Though I’m glad Hal’s giving you a positive reading. He was quite useful while we were saving you.”

     “How much did he talk,” Bro wondered aloud.

     “A bit,” she admitted. “We discussed why you were traveling, though he wasn’t that talkative about details. He let us know about Dave when you kept saying his name, in case you didn’t make it. He wanted us to be sure to let him know, and to send your other letters.”

     “You’re a long way from home,” Jake chimed in, taking a seat on the nearest bed to talk while Bro shook his head and went back to eating. “But it’s all fine now. Er.. mostly.”

     “How much do I owe you,” Bro said almost immediately, breaking a mirelurk cake in half with his fork before stuffing it into his mouth. He’d worry about manners when he wasn’t sitting in a room with two strangers who’d apparently saved his life and seen him in more detail naked than anyone else had in years.

     “We’ll figure out caps in a little bit,” Jade said. “You’re going to need to stay here a while longer either way, and we had to use a lot of your medical supplies.”

     “Helped ourselves to a little bit of your food as well, but mostly it was the chems and supplies we needed at the moment. Lucky for us you were damn near carrying a medics inventory on your back!”

     “Yeah, I just got through a vault,” Bro said. “Place hadn’t been looted yet till I got there.”

     “A vault!” Jake interjected excitedly. “Was it like they say, all sterile and eerily perfect?”

     “It was full of the people who used to live there, and they weren’t human anymore,” Bro said simply.

     It was quite a show to see that many feral ghouls get put down in one go.

     “Oh, that doesn’t sound very dapper.”

     “Vaults rarely are. They’re either fulla deadly shit, full of a shit load’a nothin’, or fulla people who don’t want you to bother them because you’re all gross from bein’ outside and they know you just want the goodies they’ve got.”

     “My grandpa was from a vault,” Jade said with a grin. “He’s the one who raised both of us, taught us everything we know.”

     They traded conversation for a time while Bro continued to eat, though it waned when he finished and looked exhausted, surprised that the very act of eating took so much energy out of him. Jake took the tray away and Jade performed a followup examination as Bro settled back tiredly on the pillows. Before she left, he requested his belongings, or what was left of them.

     He had an important letter to write.

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

     Bro’s head ached sickly by the time he finished writing the letter, nearly as much as his heart, and his eyes were wet. He didn’t dare to rub at them, nor to even draaw attention to them, but the fact he’d cried while pouring his fucking soul out onto the page wasn’t something he’d admit to anyone. Hal, bless him, remained quiet aside from occasionally offering a correction on a phrase to make it sound better. At first Bro had resented the dictation, but found the changes in wording to be a positive thing, eliminating double meanings. What he ended up with was the letter he’d envisioned sending Dave when the deathclaw was about to do the killing strike, and the fewer mistakes and misunderstandings that could arise from it was for the better.

     It took another few days of resting, eating, and conversing with the doctors before Bro was strong enough to go for walks around the town. First thing was first: he paid express for his letter bundle to be sent to Dave along with some money, the most recently written one marked URGENT in bright red stamped letters. Secondly, he got himself a cola and drank the entire thing in one go. The doctors had been kind enough to spot him some clothes, since his shirt was ruined and his pants were scrapped in the moment by bloodshed and emergency bandage use on top of their general wear and tear. The down side was he hated fatigues… but hey, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

     He was settled with another soda at the little bar and grill early one morning, having shared breakfast with Jade and Jake once more (his own recipe this time, which only Jake seemed enthusiastic about once they’d tasted the product), but wanting to just sit outside and enjoy the early morning before the sun really got going on cooking everything in the wasteland to death. Hal was quiet, watching as well he presumed based on the little target viewers moving around every time someone moved.

     What do you plan to do if you don’t get a reply?

     “Keep goin’,” he said with a shrug, taking a sip. “I’m not expecting a reply to any of my letters, but he knows which way we’re headed if he wants to write back. Kid knows how to use a map of settlements to send ahead of the curb if he wants to.”

     ...I was worried I lost you too, back there. But you’ve never once apologized to me yet.

     “Apologized for what?”

     For nearly making me watch someone I care about die. At least the first one had the decency to not die while wearinng me on his fucking face.

     Bro was pensive and stretched his long legs out from his seat before tipping it back on its hind legs, balancing in place as he took another sip.

     “I promise I won’t die while wearin’ you, then.”

     You f-

     “I wouldn’t wanna hurt you at all.”

     … That is acceptable I guess.

[rcris123]

“How’re you feelin’?” Arthur asks Kieran that evening after things settled down a lil’.

“Dizzy.” The boy was still nursing his injured arm, looking rather pitiful. Grimshaw bandaged it “But I guess it’ll heal.”

“Unless you catch the fever.” Sean mocked.

It felt isolated the way all of ‘em that went away were the ones around this fire. That and Charles. Isaac fell asleep in Arthur’s arms; must have exhausted him being in an actual gunfight.

“Shut up!” Kieran mused up the courage.

Sean laughs: “Keep tryin’.”

And the kid scowls, and changes the subject: “Sadie, I ain’t got the time to thank you. I-I know you ain’t- I mean-”

“I don’t hate you.” She says drily. “But don’t you think we’re friends either.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t even think of it.” A pause. “I’m still sorry for what happened to Jack.”

“That’s done now.” Arthur says, brushes a few strands of hair from Isaac’s forehead. “We keep goin’.”

“An’ what ‘bout Dutch?” Sean interrupts.

Arthur just lets out a long sigh.

“Ain’t seen him that... what you call it?” Sean continued.

“Unhinged?” Charles chimes in.

“... Well... Without morals I mean. You went back for me, you did. And that pile of cowdungs that’s Micah.”

Arthur coughs a laugh at that; hearing Sean insult Micah in increasingly creative ways ain’t ever gonna get old.

“Guess I’m still an O’Driscoll to them- to Dutch at least. I mean it ain’t makin’ sense goin’ to rescue me-”

“The fewer O’Driscolls the better.” Sadie’s stone cold. “Just want them all gone. Every. Single. Last one o’em bastard.”

“I’m so sorry, Sadie...” Kieran truly sounds heartbroken and it seems he ain’t ever heard the story of what happened to her. “Truly I am-”

“I don’t want your pity, kid.” She spits.

Sebastian puts a hand on Kieran’s back before the boy gets to speak again.

“I think we all need to rest now-” Arthur tried.

Sean won’t have it: “Can’t rest now thinkin’ Dutch might just lemme rot if I were to get lost even just a lil’ bit, or worse put a bullet in me head ‘cause I said somethin’ he ain’t liked. It gave me the chills hearin’ him talk like that- how long’s it been for you Arthur? In the gang I mean?”

“20 years.”

“20 years and ye think that’ll gain a man some respect...”

“Ye’r thinkin’ too much lately, Sean.” Arthur chuckles.

“Ain’t you always said to use me noggin?!”

“Well it’s better that you don’t right now.”

“That ain’t fair, Arthur.”

A hand comes to rest on Arthur’s shoulders and everyone looks up: Hosea.

“Managed to calm the ol’ man down.” He says, taking a seat by Arthur and Isaac. And Hosea brushes the boy’s head with the same care as his actual father. “You really upset him this time ‘round, Arthur.”

A sigh: “I know...”

“It’s better if you apologize-”

“Yeah.” Arthur didn’t let him finish. “I ain’t meant it to end the way it did... I just-”

“No, I understand.” Hosea continues. “Things are... let’s say complicated.” It’s Sebastian that looks at the old man, knowingly. “And it’s the same for our good ol’ Dutch there. He cares for you, Arthur.”

“I know...” voice drops penitently.

“He fears he’s gonna lose a dear old friend-”

“But I can’t just sit an’ do nothin’!” Arthur sighs.

“Raising the boy made you real caring, ain’t it?”

“I guess...” A scratch of the beard, a purse of lips: “But you know how it was.”

“No, I ain’t blaming you.” Hosea lifted his hands defensively. “I’ve just been thinking that things feel like slipping. Ever since Blackwater.” Charles and Sean nodded. “And with you being gone more often I feel somehow older.” Old man gave a bitter laugh, followed by a dry cough. “I feel-” a drawn-out exhale. “I feel like I don’t have the strength to hold all together anymore.”

Arthur’s silent and if he wouldn’t be holding Isaac he’d try to comfort Hosea with a touch.

“It’s too much to ask this of you, Arthur... But here I am.”

“Hosea-”

“English’s tryin’.” Sean butts in, sounding somewhat more quiet than usual, and still that was some courage from him for all the trouble Hosea gave him for laziness. “I mean I ain’t knowin’ why the hell’ll save this soggy ol’ bread.” He gestured to Kieran and the kid scowled.

“It was certainly lucky.” Hosea replies. “It’s true that if the O’Driscolls found Kieran in the camp they knew where we were and could of come with even more men. But the undead- I mean there were legends among Creoles about something called zonbi. I guess the people around here should know something if there's a plague and if we're in any danger of getting it.”

Arthur nods: "I'm comin' with you."

"Well if you got the disposition.. I think bringing this to Dutch soon will appease him somewhat and make it all seem like less of an act of defiance."

"O'course."

Arthur goes to stand up, almost forgets Isaac in his arms. And he's also reminded of that letter…

"And I guess I'll go see Mary."

"Her?" Sean's surprised. "Ain't you got done with that long ago?... I mean no offense but I heard the stories..."

John couldn't keep his mouth shut, that and Uncle.

"I was, but she popped up again." A sigh. "But I ain't deserving her and she ain't deserving me. So I gotta end things. Proper this time…"

"You want me to come with you?..." Sebastian spoke quietly until voice died down completely and he pursed his lips as if he said something wrong.

"I…" Arthur tried to find words. "I would-"

"Rather do that alone. Yes…" He cuts him. "I get that…"

The world ain't kind to lovers like them.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian…"

But Sebastian gave a smile:

“You and Hosea take care out there.” Arthur nods. “I’ll get Isaac upstairs.” And now, trying his best to not wake the boy up he lifts him up, but Isaac’s eyes flutter awake.

Sebastian holds him up and Isaac mutters a half asleep: “Pa?”

“Go get some rest kid, you earned it” Father smiles to his son and one could see the pride that flushes on the boy’s cheeks as he’s lulled away with care.

And Christ, he'd love to kiss Sebastian right now, to give him the courage to see Mary, 'cause he's feeling like he'll go soft and weak again. A touch of the necklace; he’s still there. A deep breath in.

“Well… guess we should get goin’...” Arthur gets up from the log he was standing on: “Rest up, Kieran. Take blankets from upstairs if you need to.”

“T-thank you, Arthur.”

 The road to Saint Denis he could do in his sleep by now, and with the sun setting like it was he almost did. Hosea didn’t talk, only coughed from time to time. Then:

“Arthur… I… Maybe there’s no good place to ask or say this, but- Do you remember how me and Dutch met? Back in ‘72?”

“ ‘Course I do.” Heart started to shrink in his chest; he knew what came after this.

“And is there anything that you want to tell me about you and...”

“There ain’t much to it...” a sigh; it ain’t even been that long ago. “Man saved my sorry ass just ‘cause Isaac happened to be with me and he happened to have been a childless father-” Another sigh, or maybe it was a defeated groan: “What you want from me, Hosea? ‘cause I ain’t knowin’ how I got here, just know that I goddamn did...”

Hosea remained quiet for a while; there was Saint Denis with all its electrical glory, there to illuminate fossils and human scum, then: “He strikes me as a good man. Sebastian I mean...”

“Ain’t I keepin’ a record of courting people much better than myself...” a bitter laugh. He’s going to see that Mary again; what a sad, deluded fool he was... “Guess we should be splittin’ up about here.”

“I’ll meet you back around here.”

Where were they even? Well that looked like the Police Station, by the way lawmen buzzed around the entrance. She’s at the Grand Hotel just a street further. Sun’s almost done setting by the time he reaches the structure, head’s bowed low and he ain’t even truly looking for her. There’s a pit in his stomach, gnawing at him. And then she hears her from above him:

“Arthur! Arthur you came!”

He dismounts, looks up for a brief moment: “Yeah, I came...”

“Wait there! I’m coming straight down” She had a bright smile on her face as she rushes downstairs.

Arthur takes a deep breath in: there were people staring and he throws them a glance. It ain’t none of their business, and he fears it’s hardly his own. Oh what a fool he’ll make of himself once more; seems to be a trend when it came to Arthur Morgan and love...

Dumb love... Is he going to let this one slip away as well. A scratch of the beard then hand goes down to rub the necklace. Christ!

She’s downstairs already: “Arthur...” She sounds as in love as she ever was, and to think back to how her face drained of color upon seeing Isaac...

“Hello, Mary.” He can’t match her enthusiasm.

“You came...” Arthur just nods. “How’s the boy? Isaac was his name?”

At last he gains the courage to look her in the eyes, it almost sounded like she cared and it’s tearing at him. If only she could of been a mother. If only he could have been anything but an outlaw. But things ain’t changed; she told him they never would. But maybe he just hasn’t been looking in the right places all this time. Sebastian ain’t no woman, but there ain’t no question that man loved Arthur, with all his biggest flaws and the son to boot – or maybe the son was the only reason Arthur was deserving of love in the first place. And with that tightness in his chest thinking of him now when Mary was right before him, Arthur surely seemed to love just as much in return...

He hasn’t replied in a while: “Arthur?... What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” He purses his lips, shifts weight from one leg to the other. “The boy’s fine. Been a long day...” But she needed his help with something: “But what you called me for?”

She tucks her hands into each other: “Well... Daddy-”

“Your father!?” He’s offended but not surprised: “Should of known...” He takes steps away.

“Arthur! I’m sure you’d understand, being a father yourself and all...” she follows him, voice pitched.

Arthur spins on his heels: “Well at least I’m aware I’m a no good father, unlike your own.”

She purses her lips: “I know Daddy wasn’t kind to you... but... but can you hate a man for the sin of loving his daughter?...”

“What ‘bout his son? Jaime?” Arthur takes a stride forward. “Look where all that love got him! Running with a bunch of lunatics! And you! Is that where this pure life has gotten you!? Begging me for help?! ‘cause he no doubt went drinking and whoring and gambling?!”

Mary turns away almost putting her hands in her head: “Be kind to me!... Arthur...”

But Arthur spins away once more, his voice low once again:

“Were you kind to me, Mary? Were you kind calling my son a degenerate, tellin’ me I haven’t even tried, when I did. I did, Mary. It’s why I came, but I see now I’ve come all this way for nothin’...”

“Arthur!... Oh Arthur, I’m- I’m sorry...” He lets her draw close. “I... I missed you.”

And he looks at her, how she stretches her hands out for him to hold them. He does, only to fold them in on themselves, back towards the woman’s chest:  

“I missed you for a long time, Mary. But it’s done now. I may be the best man you know at frightening decent people, but for my son, I cannot.”

He withdraws his hands:

“Okay... Arthur...” She’s heartbroken and when she wants to tear her gaze away it falls down on his neckline, the medallion. A moment’s ponder; Arthur already drew away: “Can I at least know if... Is there someone else?”

“Yes.” And he hoped that was enough.

“... Can I know who?”

He climbs back in the saddle with a deep inhale: “You read the name on the medallion...” Her eyebrows knit together before a hand hides her mouth from hanging loose “Be well, Mary...”

She says not a word more and Arthur finds himself sitting on the sidewalk back at the police station, head in hands, rubbing his face until it’s no doubt red. To love a man, what a goddamn fool he is. A moron even. Dug himself into a hole there ain’t no escaping from; all he once had felt torn away bit by bit and all his attempts at stitching it back together with reasons that worked before no longer did. He betrayed Dutch horribly with one simple act. Ain’t it of been better if he was purely ruthless and not wanting to do something that ain’t his domain: kindness? He ain’t a do-gooder, he murders people, animals; he maims whatever he can get his hands on, even hope for the goddamn future. And somehow this broken mess that he was became a father and had to raise the kid ‘cause his Momma was killed – and he thought that’s been in no small part thanks to himself, the way the boy was fathered.

He’s afraid he’s gonna lose the boy too somewhere, sometime... And the thought hurts more than he can bear. He sits up to try to shake the feeling, gets inside, maybe he can make something of use.

And there was a man there putting up a poster.

“That a bounty poster, mister?” Arthur asks with a sniff and a faked cough; he’s keeping the tears away.

“Indeed.” The man had an almost pristine white coat, and what looked like some burn scar on his face. “Are you a bounty hunter, mister?”

“Happen to be, yes.”

“And are you efficient?”

“Took down the Captain of the Lemoyne Raiders so I guess I ain’t too bad neither.”

“Good.” Man stops pinning the poster and hands it over to Arthur, and soon after a card too: “Here’s my address. Bring the bounty to my house please.”

“Not the police station?” That was odd.

“Oh, no. I have a permit for taking care of psychically unstable people. You see, I’m a psychiatrist.”

“And what you needin’ a bounty for?”

“Ah, well, I also happen to be a scientist. And my newest invention is in need of a subject.”

“Yeah, but why a bounty-”

“It’s a device made to administer an effective, painless death, mister.”

Arthur grunts: “ ‘kay. But I’m afraid I ain’t caught your name.”

“Victoriano.”

Another Italian?... Although he sounded British. But that ain’t no business of his; Arthur’ll just return to sitting outside, waiting for Hosea.

He must have fallen asleep ‘cause the man shook him awake:

“Let’s go Arthur. I’ll tell you on the way.”

He snorts and grunts getting back up on Ghost, how late was it even?

“So, what you found out, Hosea?”

“Well, not much, but you definitely ain’t been wrong-”

“I know what I saw, Hosea. People call’em Night Folk.”

“Yes, yes. People are afraid to go out in the Bayou ‘cause of them, especially at night. Some said they were spirits of slaves that died, others claim they’re people turned mad by something in the water.”

That caught his attention. “So the water in the swamp ain’t safe?”

“I fear so too, yes.”

“So what we gonna do about that? Boil all water? ‘cause we’re still in the Bayou.”

“It’s worth the try.”

“That also means that Lakay spot me and the boys found ain’t safe.”

“Yes...” Hosea was terribly distraught.

“What about what Bill and Micah found?”

“Well they said it was full of degenerates, a gang called Murfree’s Brood, I think. Said they acted like animals, that they had a mutilated corpse propped up at the entrance like some kind of trophy.”

“Christ!” No more places to hide for them... “We’re running out of time, Hosea...”

“It’s the last push, this one. We’ll be gone soon. Dutch found a boat, wants us to leave the country.”

A bitter laugh: “And you believe that?”

“Well I can’t have been running a fool’s errand all these years. And if I was I guess I just convinced myself it ain’t true just so I have one last thing to cling to.” Hosea sighs after that. “But I’m old, Arthur. For me it doesn’t matter that much where it ends, how it ends. I lived my life, but Isaac, Jack-”

“I ain’t letting no harm come to that boy, I swear.”

“I know. I raised you two both. Isaac’s the closest thing to a grandson I’ll ever have. Bessie loved him...”

“I remember. She’d smother him all up.” A chuckle. “And the kid loved it to bits, having no mother and all...”

“Don’t blame yourself for that, you did all that you could have done.”

“And still I ain’t been a good father. I ain’t been meant to be a father-”

“Think of it as it could have been a lot worse, Arthur.” Hosea doesn’t stand his self-doubt. Never did.

And still, to think Hosea believed him and the boy should somehow get out of this life came as a surprise but comfort too, and courage.

People were asleep back at Shady Belle. It was crickets, the crackling of fire and the occasional snore that broke the silence. They hitched the horses beyond the bridge before passing over and that’s when he saw Sebastian slumped next to the campfire he left from. Heart sinks to the bottom of his guts.

“Goodnight, Arthur.” Hosea salutes before splitting their ways.

“ ’night.”

Sebastian wasn’t asleep when he reached him; just looked up at him, a bottle of whiskey in hand and a smoking cigarette in the other:

“Everything a’right?” he asked trying on some sobriety.

“Her father’s a no-good bastard an’ she calls me for help with that after degrading the way I raised my son.” A deep inhale and Arthur sits down beside him.

“Oouch.” Sebastian slurred, leaned closer then stopped. “Wanna go stroll a lil’? ‘Round the back of Shady Belle.”

“Sure-” Arthur helps the man up not a moment later.

It’s pitch black for a moment, as the light of the campfires still flickered behind them, but once ‘round the corner, a dim blue light illuminated the side of the manor, the trees and their faces. But Sebastian slips behind his back, wrapping his arms around his chest, face nestled in the crook of his neck, breathing slow. A pleasant shiver runs down his spine and Arthur dares keep that inhale in as he closes his eyes. There’s things he wanna say, things he wanna hear Sebastian speak about, but he just keeps quiet, ‘cause words cram in his mouth and nothing’s right. And there’s that feelin’ croppin’ up again, and those thoughts that he mulled over at the police station come racing back. Arthur’s clinging to him now. Mary ain’t ever touched him like this. But they were different people.

There’s still a whiskey bottle in the man’s hands. Arthur takes it and draws a bit away:

“Bet you I can drink this whole bottle in one sip?”

“Arthur-”

Too late, the bottle’s neck is to his lips and the liquor drains into his mouth and with big gulps down his throat. Higher and higher. It burns, his chest caught flames. Then it’s done and he throws the bottle away. He gives a laugh:

“Told you I can-” then his knees buckle underneath him and he falls to the ground.

Sebastian’s quick enough to catch him, but not quick enough so that they don’t end up on the muddy ground.

What a pitiful man he was; eyes become watery:

“It’s caught up to me... This mess...”

Sebastian rests his head on his shoulder: “You and me both...”

Arthur cups the man’s face as soon as his says that.

“You’re gonna get out-” It’s his only promise, when sober and when drunk alike: “You have to, you and the kid-”

“Shut up-” It’s lips on lips, rough, Sebastian’s hands pinning him down.

And he don’t understand what that’s supposed to mean, just huffs into the kiss.

“Shut up, you fool, you-” It’s sloppy, words panted when mouths ain’t on each other. “I can’t go on alone.” Sebastian stops, bows his head and buries it back in the crook of Arthur’s neck.

“You love me?...” A question, voice is breaking apart.

A kiss on his neck to make Arthur gasp out: “ ‘course I do-”

“For me? I ain’t worth it- Agh!” Sebastian bit into his neck at that remark.

“Who the fuck else...”

“Isaac...”

“You both.” His nose rubs against the itching spot that was left behind. Then man shifts up, cups Arthur’s face, coaxing the head back, exposing the neck. “Arthur...” Another kiss trailing up from his collarbone. “Arthur-” The way that name slips out of his lips makes his pants wanna set up a tent. “I’m starting to make sense of things. With you.” A kiss on his jaw. “With you...”

Arthur strings him up by the thighs, stretching them apart until he’s straddled under Sebastian. And the man pants with the touch:

“You buckstuborn idiot- I thought of you.” Arthur muses, lifting his chin just slightly up, brushing his lips against the other’s where they ghosted above him. “She was right there, in front of me, and I thought of you... I loved her. I missed her...”

And now I miss you.

That he ain’t dare say it’s too much even for a drunken sap like he was.

Sebastian lunges in to devour his mouth once more, body grinds against Arthur’s; there’s whiskey on his breath, on his tongue. Cheap cigarettes, cheap liquor and cheap life choices ‘cause they’re both poor and got nowhere else to go. He’s gotten drunk so he ain’t gotta be afraid, of thoughts, of actions, of whatever the hell. He’s gotten drunk so he can be numb to the meaning of all these feelings. But not to touch.

And no one touched him like Sebastian did. Why is all he could ask. Why’s he deserving, why now, why Sebastian – why this moron that he was- And all this fighting raging on in his mind makes him grind the man against himself. It’s tights now and there’s a bulge bucking against his abdomen. Pants escape him. Wasn’t religion that talked about how the body desires without the mind consenting to it, ‘cause that’s what he wanted now.

“Sebastian-”

“Mhm-” the man purrs into the next kiss, coaxing him up. The grinding don’t stop.

“I-”there’s too much to say, mostly alcohol induced. “Shit-” There’s mud in his hair, on his clothes. It’s dirty work. They’re in camp-

He stops suddenly.

“You okay?” Sebastian runs a hand through sticky hair.

A single huff as he leans against the man’s chest, arms wrapping around his back.

“Isaac’s upstairs- Dutch, Everyone-” A sigh. “Not here...”

 Sebastian presses a kiss on the top of his head, then a chuckle when he’s done laying his face on top of his own:

“We could always keep quiet.”

“Not with this mud.”

“And you don’t fancy bathing in the bayou?”

“At the risk of alligator death? No.” Somehow man’s got him chuckling again. He’s feeling warm now and not in the aroused way; he’s still hard thou.

“Guess I just have to fuck you when no one’s watchin’-”

“Good luck with that.”

Arthur laughs, but before he has time to finish, Sebastian’s hand groped his half hard cock. Lips purse and he bucks his hips up; success came in the form of a barely abstained moan from the other. It’s then followed by a soft kiss on the neck from Arthur’s part. And now Sebastian’s laughing, a throaty, drunken laugher and he leans back in his arms. Arthur sways with him.

“Por favor, dame un beso.” Sebastian coos with a faint smile on his face.

“What?” He doesn’t understand; that ain’t English, was it.

“Un beso-” A kiss on Arthur’s lips. “Just a lil’ one-”

“What you tryina’ pull here?” Arthur’s still quite amused.

“Trying to teach you some Spanish.”

“Why?”

“So you’d know when I tell you besame.”

“What’s that mean-”

“Kiss me-”

And Arthur does, sucking the breath out of Sebastian, that an’ a moan. Why all the doubting from before when he’s pretty goddamn certain that he’s in love... It’s been so long- And he ain’t a good man, no matter how he felt-

“Christ...” he exhales when the kiss is broken. “Sebastian-”

“Arthur...”

He rubs the man’s cheeks with his thumbs, smiling like the fool he really was.

“Te amo.” Sebastian whispers with such grace.

 He wakes up with a headache; it takes a groan to set himself in motion- A blanket?

A hurried look to the side only to find Isaac curled next to them under a thin mat. A drawn out sigh as a hand goes to rest on the boy’s shoulder, offering gentle rubs now. Sebastian’s hardly awake himself, looking through half lidded eyes at the kid with one arm draped over Arthur’s chest. They slept in like that leaned on one of the porch’s posts, drunk again and with some wood to show what they’ve been thinkin’ last night, or it was probably the drink...

He’s been sighing a lot lately, so with the latest one he leans his head onto Sebastian’s.

“The boy really loves you.” Man says, voice gruff, glazed over by sleep and whiskey. “You’ve been a father many’d wish they had.”

A snort: “That ain’t true-”

“You love your son. More than anything.” Sebastian draws a finger across his chest. “I ain’t known any man to fight for their son like you do.”

“I’m coddling him...” Arthur scolds himself.

“Life ain’t of been kind to him if you weren’t.”

There goes one more deep exhale; finally admitting defeat: “Guess that much’s true. Wanted that for him. So he ain’t turning out like me.”

“He ain’t.” And he dips up for a kiss on the jaw before standing up and stretching his bones with a groan. Then a look at Arthur who ain’t yet got the courage to sit up: “And you need a bath.”

That and Sebastian’s gaze checks out the lil’ tent his pants put up with a smirk and for a moment he feared the man’ll put his boot on it. But Sebastian’s got at least that much decency. Instead he helps Arthur up.

By the time Isaac got up, Arthur got him some new clothes and to Miss Grimshaw’s surprise Arthur washed on his own volition, with a change of garments to boot. Sebastian went and fetches them some breakfast:

“Seems Pearson found alligator eggs.”

“Get outta here-” Arthur chaffs then he’s presented with a plate of hard boiled alligator eggs and a yellow sauce that smells like mustard.

“Alligator eggs?” Isaac almost trips over his pants while pulling them up trying to peek at the exotic dish. “Ever had ‘em Pa?”

“No.” And that’s signal that he should dig in already.

“What’s it taste like?” Isaac wastes no time asking.

“Chewy.” He hasn’t swallowed yet. “Fishy. Kinda salty but I think that’s on Pearson’s part.” Isaac giggles. “Sauce is decent thou.”

And once he’s all dressed boy wastes no time chowing down on his own portion. While Arthur should go talk with Dutch. ‘course Isaac notices.

“Where you going?” kid takes a bite. “Talk with Dutch?”

He can’t lie... “Yes.”

“Can I sit by you? ...Promise I won’t talk.”

“Yes...”

Isaac perked up: “Really?”

“Don’t ask twice I might just change my mind. Now c’mon.”

Sebastian didn’t follow; there were flames on the pyre and Sebastian was smart enough not to walk into them. Thankfully Dutch looked to be in a pleasant mood - not the same could be said for Molly O’Shea. She looked miserable, slumped on a crate.

“Mornin’.”

“Good morning to you too, Arthur.”

Here it comes; he sits down and Isaac beside him: “I’m sorry for yesterday.”

“It was very reckless of you.” Dutch’s tone was a note away from scolding.. “But I can’t not forgive you, Arthur.”

Arthur looked at him, trying to find the right words:

“You’re like a son to me.” Dutch continues. “All of us are family.”

He bobs his head: “It’s why I did it, Dutch.”

“I know...” Man sounded like he was just as sorry. “I just got scared.”

“I told you- What could I have done, Dutch?” he’s getting mildly frustrated.

“Distrust me. My judgement.”

“You ain’t lookin like ye’r trusting me very well right now.” Arthur’s real hoping his son either don’t catch what Dutch was saying or don’t stand up. A glance at him and sure enough he had his eyebrows knit

“Can I count on that trust?”

“Always, Dutch.”

Then silence.

“You know Hosea talked with the locals about them undead.” Arthur broke it at last.

“Yeah. He told me.”

“There’s something in the water that’s making it that way.”

Dutch turns to him:

“Would you and Hosea see about that? What’s causing it?”

“Sure.”

“Want to know who’s behind it.” Man rubs his hands with seeming anxiety. “There’s people out to extermin us. As if we’re vermin for not conforming to their uptight rules. Us and everyone who’s poor and unfortunate- Did you talk with the Indians?”

“Yes, saw them a couple of days ago. The father asked me to see his son near Citadel Rock.”

“Good. It might have something to do with that.”

“At this point who knows.”

“You’re right.”

Arthur gets up, urges Isaac to do the same, with permission and all he could go-

“I-...” Dutch utters, coaxing Arthur to turn his head back to him. “I’m sorry, for earlier.”

“Don’t mention it-”

“Are you taking the boy with you?���

“Yes...” Arthur scratches his beard.

“Take care there, Isaac, okay?” Dutch sounded much younger then, almost like someone he used to know a long time ago.

“Sure.” kid replies.

But first he makes sure he checks up on that Kieran kid. And he find him with Mary-Beth carefully tending to his wound.

Arthur leans on the pole keeping up the tent with a smirk. Isaac peeks behind his shoulder and snorts and with that both youngsters grow apart and a deep shade of red almost instantly:

“Ain’t meant to interrupt!” Arthur lifts his arms up. “Just came here to see how dear ol’ Kieran here’s doin’.” A chuckle.

“ I’m fine actually, thank you!” Yet he’s still rubbing his arm.

“Does it hurt?” Isaac asks making one more step forward.

“Not all that bad now.” Kieran darts is head to the side; Mary-Beth was looking down hiding her face behind curled locks. “Thanks to Mary-Beth.” Kieran lights up like fireworks. “B-but I won’t be here without you or your Pappy.”

Isaac’s beaming and Arthur can’t help smiling himself. Then he remembers:

“Weren’t you the one who said you wanted to go fishin’ sometime? For.. uh… that big Bluegill, ain’t it?”

“Oh! Yes!”

“Remind me when I get back and that arm o’ yours is stronger.”

“Sure- but where’re you going? After more O’Driscolls?”

“No. Not yet. Why?”

“ ‘cause there’s some things I wanna say.”

“Can’t you say them now?” Isaac intervenes.

But it’s Mary-Beth that talks next: “I said it’s best if things settle down a little. Dutch ain’t- well Dutch is...”

“I know.” Arthur says.

“I’ll tell you on that fishin’ trip. Promise.”

“Don’t forget.”

“No sir-” Kieran says that out of habit without paying mind that it wasn’t Arthur who said it, but his son. The father laughs.

“Get your strengths back soon, ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh.”

They should probably get goin’ already. He tells Isaac to fetch Sebastian and maybe some warmer clothes, while Arthur’s off to saddle the horses. But there’s something off. There by Pearson’s wagon, Micah’s talking. He listens in:

“Quite the woman.” He catches. “Quite the woman...” Arthur stops brushing Ghost. “You could make a feller real happy... bet you know how.” That’s it Arthur’s off, bagging the brush and that poor mare stretches her neck looking for pats.

“I got work to do now.” Abigail was pissed and after what happened with Jack this was a poor move of the bastard’s part.

But Arthur ain’t thought too far; Micah backs off hands in the air

“Oh, you’re a sneaky one, Morgan...” That inhale through teeth Micah did, tipping his chin up. “But I didn’t know I was your type.”

“Just back off, would you-” Arthur’s still larger than him.

“Woah there-” Somehow that cackle is uglier than he was: “Don’t wanna see you biting the pillows, cowpoke.”

Micah steps away like he’s facing off a wild beast and rest assured that comment sure made him bare his teeth:

“You watch that goddamn mouth-” Micah’s arms rose higher and there was fear at last in those cold eyes. “Lest you want a fist in it.”

“Easy, tough guy.” Man still laughs like he’s got the upper hand and the moment Arthur tears his gaze from him he notices Dutch looking over.

His lips purse as Micah backs even further away before spinning on his heels.

He didn’t even notice John coming by:

“You okay there, Arthur?”

“Don’t you pay him no mind.” Abigail reassures. “He’s all talk and no bite.”

He came there to help not to be helped.

“Sure, but you tell me if he ever gives u trouble again, Abigail.”

“What about you, thou?” John intervenes.

“I got fists and bullets.” Arthur grunts.

“He ain’t worth the trouble, Arthur.” Abigail encourages, the passes on to John: “And where’ve you been?”

Arthur’s already drawing away, back to his horses and saddles ‘cause Isaac’s down with the warmer clothes when John replies: “Been with Jack, playing something.”

“John Marston...” the surprise in Abigail’s tone is bringing him joy too. So the bastard can change.

“Did anything happen?” Isaac, bless his heart, noticed.

“No.” He ain’t gonna expose the boy to that idiot’s cruelty.

“Okay...” A hand rubs the kid’s back with rigour.

“So... Isaac said I can borrow one of your coats.” Sebastian said, packing that coat he called ‘the Grizzly’ ‘cause he made it out of one.

He entirely forgot about Micah; there’s a smile on his face: “I’d love to see you in it.”

Sebastian chuckles; Arthur knew exactly what was on the man’s lips but he ain’t dare say it.

They should be reaching Citadel Rock by Nightfall if all went smoothly. And then the next morning, if all, again, went according to plan, they should be reaching the Grizzlies border near the Heartlands’ Overflow where their bounty was last seen.

Road sure is long enough, and most of it comes quiet. At one point a wild turkey cut their path and Isaac pulled out his bow and with one swift motion downed the bird from a gallop. He almost heard Sebastian gasp then. They hung the bird on Big Sir and went on. A storm caught up to them sometime in the afternoon near Dewberry Creek, good thing they packed the thicker coats ‘cause they sure as shit needed ‘em now. Isaac rode with his arms crossed and hunched over and Arthur got the rear to make sure Big Sir ain’t getting lazy all of a sudden.

The sunset barely shines through the breaking clouds and for the first time in weeks it smells of cold. Citadel Rock’s up ahead and they pass just by Cornwall Kerosene and Tar – rather unbelievable he’ll be robbing Cornwall of all people yet again. Here’s hopin’ this time it’s quiet.

And there’s Eagle Flies on the cliff with that gorgeous splash horse.

“You came.” Lad almost sounded surprised when the lot of ‘em pulled up.

“ ‘Course I came. Said I would.” Arthur dismounts already, Sebastian soon following suit.

And Eagle Flies wastes no time telling them what they gotta do: “There’s a foreman. His name is Danbury. He has the files in the office above the refinery room.” He hands Arthur the binoculars he was using: “It’s that window with the blind drawn up.”

“I see it.” He replies.

“If the files are as incriminating as we believe” Eagle Flies continues taking the binoculars back. “Cornwall’s men will destroy them if they know you’re coming.”

“There’s only one of us goin’ in so I don’t intend on lettin’ ‘em know I’m comin’, son.” Arthur spoke, then turned to Sebastian. “Can you get me outta trouble if it comes knockin’.”

“ ‘course...” man said.

“Isaac, you find a hidden spot and set up camp, far enough away but not too far.”

“Got it, Pa.”

Arthur returns to Eagle Flies who was looking at the boy galloping off already:

“What would the files say?”

“There’ll be a report from Leland Oil Development Company.”

A sigh: “Now any ideas about how I sneak into the place’ll be greatly appreciated.”

“You could crawl under the fence. Or hide in a wagon; they keep rolling in.”

“Wish me luck, Buck.” Arthur’s off without thinking too much about what he just said; there was a wagon ahead and he fully intended to sneak in that way.

He’s lucky enough that a train passes by and the wagon stops just in time for Arthur to crawl inside. It’s empty. And now here’s hopin’ they mistake him for cargo if one as much as looks in the back of it; he’s barely hiding. But he’s soon inside and with the night falling people get to yawning rather than watching out for shadows scurrying in the dark. He makes it pretty easily inside the building. And there people mill about absent-mindedly; it’s easy to sneak by, then upstairs. Maybe he’s got too much confidence opening the office door.

There was a man inside. A chair to the door, some intimidation tactics: raising fists and applying one for good measure to know he’s meaning business, and in the end he’s got the papers. But o’course someone heard it, came around asking what happened.

So Arthur snuck out the window. Where was that Sebastian he can’t tell but he saw him on that roof ‘cause the moment he’s out there’s a loud whistle and the bang of a pistol. Guards gather round and sure enough they give chase to what seemed to be one, no two outlaws drunk or stupid enough, or both, to rob oil coaches alone.

And ‘cause of that madman Arthur get to sneak out with no problems, but soon enough pulled round and shot off some of the pursuers that head out from the refinery.

No more of them and they seem safe enough away:

“Thought you wasn’t getting involved?!” Arthur’s probably sounding too much like a father and much less like a business partner.

“I decided to help.” Eagle Flies comments, eyebrows furrowed. “Because he refused the money.”

So Eagle Flies tried to pay their services to Sebastian. Goddamn reckless fools, both o’em, but at least he’s expecting the ol’ Buck to be that way.

“Thank you.” Arthur says. “You saved my life.” He takes out the papers and gives it to the lad; he looks them over as if it’s a loaf of bread when he hasn’t eaten in days: too little, but still better than nothing.

“I hope...” Eagle Flies spoke. “Well, I don’t know what I hope... but who knows, maybe these will be of some use.” Then he turns fully to face the two of ‘em. “Thank you, Sebastian, Arthur...” He got in the saddle. “I hope we can see each other again on friendlier terms...”

Off he went.

“What you charmed the kid with?” Arthur chaffs.

“Nothing. I’m not the talkative type.”

“Su~re.” Arthur draws the word out and Sebastian paints a smile, closing his eyes. “You’re about the second most talkative bastard I know.”

“Second to who?”

“Dutch o’course.” Arthur laughs, and Sebastian soon follows suit.

“Now I ain’t knowing if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

“Well, I like you, Sebastian.” He draws closer; there’s still commotion downhill at the refinery. “I like you terribly much.”

They should be heading away, finding Isaac, but Arthur dares brush a hand over Sebastian’s chest, just ‘cause he loved him and for a moment he had the man all to himself. And Sebastian blinked at the touch almost in surprise before an arm reached to bring him back again. There’s people wailing in the valley; horse hooves somewhere, and he ain’t caring in the least. Breath’s caught in chest and that urge that came over him when Sebastian’s looking at him like that sweeps him again; and in turn Arthur swoops the man in his arms for a kiss. And Sebastian eats his mouth out, hungry, fingers soon gripped in his hair, making it a mess.

Kiss breaks: “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

Sebastian drags him behind himself not a moment later, deciding to throw Arthur in the nearest bushes. Branches scratch his cheeks but he ain’t caring, not when mouth’s on mouth again and that whole man above him. His hands are already working at Arthur’s vest, then shirt, then his head dips down and it had Arthur gasping. Sebastian’s lips trail kisses down from his collarbone to his nipple. Clothes are tugged to the side and one arm arches Arthur’s back, pushing him against Sebastian. His fists clench in the man’s clothes as his lips and tongue make a mess on his chest, lapping, sucking, with the occasional gentle bite. He’s going hard and hot and restless. Arthur’s hands work on undoing his suspenders and pants.

“Christ-”

It’s quick work from there: pants thrown off, Sebastian’s as well, erections spring free, then fingers in his mouth to be pushed wet inside Arthur. Lips purse and eyes squeeze shut. It’s unpleasant at first, but Sebastian’s all gentle. A wet kiss on his mouth, tongue slipping by inside, makes him forget to clench his ass. Fingers’re slick, in and out, scissoring from time to time, turning stings to itching and pressure’s building up inside his navel. Hands don’t sit still; Arthur runs them underneath the man’s shirt, popping buttons as they went, now rubbing thumbs on stiffening nipples. If their mouths ain’t been locked to each other the pants and gasps’ll just roll out. He ain’t letting them, keeps them for himself, frustrated and rushed as they were. They ain’t saints, and they’re gonna indulge this sin much further when Sebastian takes those fingers out, props his ass up on his knees and slowly slips inside him-

“Arthur~” That names slips from those lips again, so goddamn deliberate and so goddamn erotic; hips buck and he regrets it, but Sebastian moans biting his lip and maybe it’s all worth it.

One hand sneaks up Arthur’s navel, ruffling short body hair the other direction, and now once touching his erection. Arthur can’t but exhale through barely parted lips as all this builds heat inside him that he ain’t meant to withstand. Sebastian’s slow, pleasantly, agonizingly slow.

He wants to talk-

“U-agh--” In and out the thrusts pick up: “I hope you know the mess you makin’ o’me. Ahh-”

Sebastian drives that hand to his jaw, and then the other one too to cup his face; rhythm doesn’t slow down and Arthur ends up rolling his head inside the other’s palm.

“If only you knew what you o’me, Arthur-” Forehead’s pressed to forehead as they’re there bucking off. “Arthur--”

It builds and builds this strain between his legs, it twitches and throbs:

“Keep callin’ me that-” Arthur pants out.

“Arthur!”

“Augh-Jesus-” Hands grab at Sebastian’s ass, his hair, pull him close and up, inside. “Keep at it, Seba-astian- Christ!- Keep at it!” ‘cause that’s the spot that’s sweet, right there, right goddamn there.

Legs are wide and ass is high, pounded with some form of cruel mercy. Waves run up him hot, then cool. The night air prickles. And he’s kissing him; kissing Sebastian where he can reach: the neck, the ear, the jaw, the lips, sloppy and wet, leaving trails behind. And Sebastian’s moaning in his mouth, his ear. It’s him; it’s him, for him, with him. How’s he so goddamn enamored. Thrust by thrust he gets a lil louder a lil’ more shameless. There’s hooves nearby; they draw closer than away- Sebastian stops for barely a moment, covering Arthur’s mouth and his own. And that man’s cock inside him pulsating, struck right against the spot that’s sweet and he’s begging that be moved-

He’ll regret that in the morning. He finds his footing and with dexterity he ain’t thought he had, nestles Sebastian to him as he gets up, then laying the man down with a thud. It hurt moving like that, his teeth are clenched and there’s a groan, but that goddamn cock’s still too good and there Arthur moves: up and forward then back again. Slow at first then fast ‘cause he can’t take it. Both his hands rest on Sebastian’s chest now, snuck under the shirt’s fabric where fingers brush against the nipples, as thrusts pick up in speed. And it’s relentless.

Sebastian has to turn his head to the side to let those sweet moans out and what a sight that was; and always will be: to have him at his mercy and be at his instead, ‘cause it ain’t like he’s not there as lustful.

“Arthur—Agh-a-” Faster, harsher, so he says his name out loud like no one ever did. “AGh-Arh-”

That was one fine goddamn dandy. So fine. Arthur’s propped in just one hand, huffing, biting his own lip, so with the other he can run his fingers through that man’s sideburns. And he should be saying something, but he can’t speak now; he just keeps working himself until the knot’s unbearable.

Sebastian catches his thumb into his mouth, and the way the lips and tongue moved to draw him in’s suggestive enough to have him buckle forward under the pressure of the orgasm. He stands still, Sebastian doesn’t: catches his hips and keeps on going-

“AUGH- Ugh- Seba-a-Christ!”

It’s just a few more rough thrusts before he’s done. Sebastian vibrates under him, moans long, drawn out, in hiccups. There’s cum in his ass and he sits right up to get it out. The shirt’s goddamn ruined. He wipes the stains off with one hand.

“What a goddamn mess-” Arthur pants; there’s a smile there and Sebastian looks at him from where he was flat on the ground with leaves in his messy hair and returns the gesture:

“Uh-huh...”

Arthur stretches up: “Shit!” It hurt. Sebastian cackles beneath him: “What?”

“Think of me.” That goddamn grin on the man’s face.

He scoffs: “Always, buck.” Nonchalantly, like it’s always been there.

The faintest gasp; Sebastian props himself on his elbows, lost in thought.

Arthur’s at last tying up his suspenders: “We should get going-”

The man pulls at his legs, shoves Arthur on his knees and on top of him. It ain’t gentle:

“The hell-” Sebastian found his neck to kiss it, warm hand wrapping around his back to hold him there.

“Just a lil’ while longer, Arthur.” Obliged; Arthur lays his head down, finding a way to rest it on his chest, as Sebastian draws lines over his shoulders. “Significas mucho para mí... Arthur. Buck...” the last one sounds like he’s tasting the word.

“You gonna tell me what that means in English?”

“You mean so much to me.” Sebastian combs Arthur’s hair with such grace. “It’s been...”

“So long?... Yeah... Me too.” A kiss to his forehead. “But we gotta get back to Isaac. We left him alone-”

Up they go; Sebastian lifting both of them up before he can finish his sentence.

Dust and fluids get smudged off, clothes buttoned back together before they get back up and set out. Arthur’s whistling and when the whistle returns they know it’s Isaac.

It’s a small fire the boy’s built.

“I burned the turkey a bit.” Isaac says before looking up at them both, then his eyes squint: “You fucked?...” No answer, kid turns his head away, shifts on the spot, then looks back at a loss of words, lips puckered and eyes wide.

The silence is awkward as they sit down; Arthur takes a bit of cooked meat and chews it on. Isaac shortly clears his throats and reaches for the coffee mug:

“I found some berries. We didn’t have any more mushrooms or other herbs.”

“And this’s got mint on it.” Arthur notes.

“Yeah... You like it?” Isaac picks up a more joyous face.

“Quite delicious actually!” Boy smiles wide. “Here. Can you hand me some berries?”

Sebastian’s still frozen in the knowledge that the boy asked him if they bucked it off behind some bushes; Arthur bumps him with his shoulder:

“Eat up, please.”

As if snapped out of some trance, the man does.

 But there ain’t no nice dinner and sweet rest that could’ave prepared them for finding that bounty in a camp that starts shooting right at ‘em. Sure they went after Wofford but this time there ain’t no place to hide.

Isaac’s a decent shot, even in the open like this, but he’s still fearing for the boy’s life. And bullets fly past their target ‘cause he keeps darting back to a panicked Big Sir, galloping with his son in the saddle trying to aim. Sebastian says nothing; he’s effective. Finally, somehow, shots start landing where they need to; it much resembles how he used to be shooting: a few scattered bullets to the chest area until the body don’t flinch no more.

But in that frenzy he almost forgot the bounty’s meant to be alive-

“Pa! He’s escaping!”

Ghost’s a fast horse; he spurs her round and to a gallop, picking up his lasso as he goes. She’s huffing under him but the bounty’s lil’ horse can’t keep up.

Feller falls from his mount with a shout. Arthur pulls the reins while lassoing the man in.

“A’right! You got me!” Arthur dismounts and hogties him good. “I’ll come with you, you son of’a bitch.”

Something snaps inside thinking that this person before him’s gonna end up some scientist’s Guinea pig, but the bastard’s not done talking:

“You’re your own jail keeper, mister. In a prison of your own making.”

“Shut up!” A hard punch to the man’s face and the body slumps. He ain’t dead, just knocked out, but Arthur ain’t in the mood for a philosophy lesson from some goddamn outlaw he’s taking in to be judged.

He damn well knows he ain’t righteous, no need for anyone else to tell him that.

He picks the man up and whistles for the others. Ghost, the sweet darlin’, comes as well and he stows the bounty on her back this time. Isaac comes in view just as he got back in the saddle:

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah.” He’s huffing from effort. “Sir Lancelot’s a lot to handle when spooked.”

Arthur purses his lips and sighs: “I’m sorry.”

Boy scratches his neck, twists his lips: “Wha-? But you ain’t done nothin’.”

That was the point... He worried too much and got ineffective and-

“Ah, don’t mind me, I’m just an ol’ geezer.”

“You did well, Arthur.” Sebastian chimes in.

A bob of the head: “Then let’s get the bastard back before he wakes up an’ starts talkin’.”

 The road ahead seems interminable. And indeed the bounty woke up, but they gagged him so he’d shut his mouth. The groaning and choking got annoying after a while. About midday they take a break, for the horses and themselves to eat something. A storm was to roll in again. It got cold, frighteningly cold real fast, the smell of rain almost overbearing. It’s electric.

But the downpour don’t come until they pass the Kamasa River and enter marshland. Arthur checks the address on the little card Victoriano gave him; asks Sebastian if he knows where it is. Sure enough, man leads them straight there.

They’re all wet to the bone and the poor feller up on Ghost’s hide stopped struggling, but fear was written all over his face. He writhes as he’s taken down, but only for a moment.

Sebastian knocks on the door and sure enough mister Victoriano opens, who looks at the man before him, then Arthur with the bounty:

“Ah, excellent! You brought him. And in such a short time. Very good.” The professor exists the house, trying up his white coat to shield from the rain and comes to point him where to ‘deposit’ the bounty: “Bring him here, please.”

“He was a pain to deal with-”Arthur heaves flinging the body on a chair in the shed he was shown by the side of the house.

Mister Victoriano then darts back inside the house: “Wait here. For payment.”

Arthur joins Sebastian by the doorframe not a moment later.

He sees the woman: ghostly pale skin, icy blue eyes and hair of such a shade of blond that it almost looked white as well. She stares at them and then gets closer; and Sebastian’s staring back:

“Myra...” man gasps out.

That was his former wife wasn’t she...

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 40)

"Rockingham, NC"

@lovemythsworld

@creatureofthen1ght-v3

Friday night at the show, The Band is phenomenal. Colson is rapid and on point, as always. The crowd, roaring for them. Acoustics are great and the whole place shakes as they sing all the lyrics to Home, Habits and Lately to him.

Luna's watching side stage with Ashleigh, singing along with her camera. She jams out as Colson RIPS through a cover of Bulls On Parade, grabbing a GREAT shot of him standing on Rook's kit. She then leans to Ashleigh saying, she's going to go get her shit together, will she please watch for her cue. Ashleigh agrees with a smile. Bobbing and singing along to the music.

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

Luna's pulling lettered stickers off of a white T shirt she had spray painted a solid line of black across earlier as Ashleigh pops into Colson's dressing room for her. "Can you check me?" She asks her as she slits the bottom of the shirt up to the neckline, carefully through the letters, leaving the ring of the top neckline untouched. Ashleigh watches amused as she's now threading safety pins across the shirt. She hops up and throws it on.

"What do you think?" She asks after adjusting herself, throwing her arms out. Being a bit more conservative, Ashleigh loves Luna's style.

Her hair is loose and wild, eye makeup dark. Lips a deep purple. Littered in tattoos and jewelry, she has on leather lace up shorts with fishnet stockings and 3in, chunky, lace up, hard buckle, ankle boots. The tiny shirt is cut off to her ribs, safety pinned secure, with about an inch open, exposing her flesh. The ring of the neckline and Luna's bare, plump breasts keeping everything in place. Ashleigh grins at the white words flashing through the black spray paint as they line up perfectly.

"That's AWESOME!!! Kells is gonna love it!!" She laughs to Luna's pleasure as they head to the stage.

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

The crowd is insane with Colson just finishing up Rap Devil.

"How you feelin' Fam?" He asks to their roars. "I dropped a new song today." More roars as he laughs. "You guys like it? I can tell, because it's climbing the motherfucking charts!! BECAUSE OF YOU!!!!" He shouts to the energetic room. Luna's at the piano. Stage left, crowd to her side. She starts lightly playing the chords to Bad Things.

"It means a lot to me that you guys like it." He tells his fans "Because it's a true story that I wrote with someone I love." The crowd Awws as he chuckles. "Yeeeahhh...." He says blushing "I brought her with me tonight and you guys are gonna be THE FIRST to hear it LIIIVE!!" He shouts again. The crowd goes wild as he calls to her "KICK IT, KITTEN!"

Opening with the piano, she's still in the dark.

🎶I know I'm outta my head. But I haven't lost my mind. How is it that you know the bad things I like? We're so good, I can't explain it. What can I say, it's kismet, ain't it🎶

Luna's vocals are strong enough to quiet the rowdy crowd. The spotlight shines on her as she lets out the next lines. Colson's walking towards her.

🎶All things you say. All the things you do, make me fall more in love with you. Oh, Bunny, I can't escape it. I'm all in, there is no maybe🎶

Rook rat a tat tats before slammimg in with AJ and Baze. Colson takes her hand, as she slides off the piano bench. Lights and smoke explode along with the crowd. His face lights up when he sees what she's wearing. DIABLO blazing across her chest. She knows, he knows, when she sees him beam. Colson's rapping to her, as they bop and dance with each other. Him leading her center stage. Rook knocking into his drums. They're magnetic. Bouncing together to the beat. Lights are flashing.

🎶We both bad, but it feels so good. And you "come" again, like I know you should. And we both wild. And the night's young. You're my drug. Breathe you in 'til my face numb. Drop it down to that bass drum. I got what you dream 'bout, fingers pulling my hair out. Eyes closed while you scream and shout. And you keep me in with those hips. While my teeth sink in those lips. While your body's giving me life and you suffocate in my kiss🎶

She's giving him THAT look, swirling her hips, bouncing with him as his free hand rests on one. He sings to her smiles as she backs him.

🎶Then you said I want you forever. Even when we're not together. Tattooed you on my body so I can take you wherever, Like, I want you forever. Even when we're not together, tattooed you on my body so I can look at you whenever, yeah🎶

She turns so that her back is against his chest. His hand around her waist. Their hips swaying together. Bodies throbbing for each other. She drags a hand down his face as she tilts her head back, exposing her neck. He kisses it. Giving her shivers as she sings.

🎶I know I'm outta my head. But I haven't lost my mind. How is it that you know the bad things I like? We're so good, I can't explain it. What can I say, it's kismet, ain't it🎶

She turns again and places a hand on his cheek, looking into his eyes before dropping it to his chest. Forcing him backwards. Singing only to him.

🎶All things you say. All the things you do, make me fall more in love with you. Oh, Bunny, I can't escape it. I'm all in, there is no maybe🎶

He pecks her on the lips quickly to her surprise, before she turns around. Making her giggle as she skips across stage. They separate as the crowd oozes with excitement. The Band is electric. They're on opposite sides of the stage now. Gravitating towards each other. Bouncing and bopping seductively back towards the other as he raps to her again.

🎶I can't explain it. I love our range. And I love the way your breath numbs me of novacaine. And we are, always high. Keep it strange🎶

Face to face again, Luna jumps in to harmonize with him. They sing in unison. Pushing playfully against each other. Pointing at each other.

🎶Ok, yeah, I'm insane, But you the same🎶

She beams at him, playfully pushing him away. He pulls her back, continuing as she chimes in.

🎶Let me paint the picture. Counter in the kitchen. Taking all your clothes off. Losin' our religion. You're my pretty little vixen and I'm the voice inside your head. That keeps telling you to listen to all the bad things I say🎶

Colson continues. As Luna dances loosely in his grip, both hands in the air. He sings to her again. He controls her whole body with one large hand. A thumb on her cheek bone, large fingers wrapped around her skull. Both of them are raging. She bites her lip. That ONE fucking LOOK.

🎶And you said I want you forever. Even when we're not together. Tattooed you on my body so I can take you wherever, Like, I want you forever. Even when we're not together, we're not together, tattooed you on my body so I can look at you whenever, yeah🎶

Running her thumb across his bottom lip, dragging it across his jawline. Like she did when they recorded it. Making his already hard dick bulge. The drums and the guitar are slamming together.

🎶I know I'm outta my head. But I haven't lost my mind. How is it that you know the bad things I like? We're so good, I can't explain it. What can I say, it's kismet, ain't it🎶

She snakes around him to the beat of the pounding band.

🎶All things you say. All the things you do, make me fall more in love with you. Oh, Bunny, I can't escape it. I'm all in, there is no maybe🎶

She turns to the crowd, her vocals strong and smooth before turning back to Colson. Finger guns flying again, bouncing around, making him laugh. Rook rattles with her.

🎶I'm just a LunaTic, with her Gunn. When we're together, Bad Things happen. The way you touch me, is better than ecstasy. When we're not together, I still feel you coursing through me🎶

The band kicks in hard. They're both jumping around the stage now. The room is hysterical, lights still flashing.

Playing and pushing off of each other still. Luna raises her tattooed arm high, waving it in the air. Beaming at him as they jump up and down, singing. He does it back to her delight.

🎶And you said I want you forever. Even when we're not together. Tattooed you on my body so I can take you wherever, Like, I want you forever. Even when we're not together, we're not together, tattooed you on my body so I can look at you whenever, yeah🎶

The crowd and the band are insane as Colson grabs his guitar, killing his solo. Luna belts out the lyrics, skipping back towards him pointing. She comes in belting, his guitar RIPPING through the air with her.

🎶I know I'm outta my head. But I haven't lost my mind. How is it that you know the bad things I like? We're so good, I can't explain it. What can I say, it's kismet, ain't it🎶

As she reaches him, she props her free hand on his shoulder. Dancing on him like a pole as he continues to play.

🎶All things you say. All the things you do, make me fall more in love with you.🎶

Snaking up, she looks up at him, him down at her. Both beaming.

🎶Oh, Bunny, I can't escape it. I'm all in, there is no maybe🎶

Lights and smoke are exploding again as Rook leads them out on a solo.

Both laughing, they end the song with Colson tossing the ax around his shoulder to scoop her up and kiss her. Her whole body is throbbing as she kisses him back. The crowd ringing in her ears. As she trots off stage, waving, she hears Colson yell "THAT BROOKLYN BITCH!!!" to the uncontrollable crowd.

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

The band finishes with Rehab and Till I Die. Luna's watching from side stage with Ashleigh. "YOU GUYS WERE GREAT!!!" she shouts to Luna over the music. Luna beams. Hugging and thanking her. She has a joint and a bottle of Jameson. Colson walks off stage, grabs the bottle from her and promptly throws her over his shoulder. The joint stays with her.

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

Passing and talking to people, he doesn't put her down until they hit the dressing room, where he plunks her on a table.

"I've been waiting to do this since I FUCKING saw you!" He exclaims. She's lighting the joint as he rips her shirt wide open. Safety pins popping and flying.

Making her squeal "MY OFFICIAL MERCH!!" Them both laughing as she lifts the joint to his mouth.

"I fucking love you." He laughs after hitting it.

"But do you love-Love me?" She teases. Cocking her head.

"Fucking right I do!" He tells her before kissing her hard. They're both sweaty and buzzing from the show.

Looking at him playfully, she hops off the table, walks across the room and bends over another table in front of the mirror.

"Ritual?" She says coyly, over her shoulder. Biting her lip.

Puffing on the joint, he takes long strides to her.

"Take 'em off." He demands with a hard ❗SLAP❗ on her leather clad ass.

"You do the FUCKING same." They both laugh, dropping their pants for the other.

Running his hand up her slender back, he passes her the joint as he slides a finger between her folds. She's soaked, just the way he likes her. He catches her off gaurd when he pushes his dick into her. Wide blue eyes, staring at him through the mirror. This turns both of them on as they begin to fuck each other smooth and hard. Passing the joint back and forth through deep strokes.

"That was fucking HOT tonight!" He pants into the mirror. Agreeing, she slams into his cock harder. After he slides his hand around her throat, it doesn't take much but her begging for them both to explode. After resting on her as they catch their breath, he kisses her bare back as always before popping his head up.

"Ready to party?" He asks her, grinning through the mirror.

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

To be continued.....

[acequeenking]

winters nigh and summers o’er 2/?? ( G)

A collection of one-shots centered on Hades and Persephone's relationship; stories are non-chronological but all within the same timeline. Warnings and ratings are on individual chapters since these run the gamut from G to E. Updated weekly on Thursdays. (Previous Installments here!) 

Summary: “Do you want…?” Seph bit her lips and Demeter glared into her brother, because he damn well was at the moment of truth and if he blew it so help Zeus she would hurt that man if he messed this up. Demeter wasn’t kidding about gardening Hades like a particularly caustic onion if she had to. Maybe cut off a few shoots, too – wasn’t like they wouldn’t grow back. Eventually.

Demeter eyed the train tracks as the train came a stormin’ on. She glanced back at her daughter Persephone – still sleepin’ at the stop, spread out over the damn bench like a sacrifice, hand on her belly – and gathered her courage.

The old man – her baby brother, but he’d been old forever, even when they were wrong – came down the tracks in his big ol’ train, which Demeter was sure was compensating for somethin’, but they were past the point of petty insults right now in their relationship and, given recent developments, Demeter was trying to be in a forgiving and forgetting mood.

Still, Demeter held tight to her daughter’s luggage, not so much as daring to blink as she waited for the man to slow down and stop, which he did, though he made a real wreck of it, only hitting the brakes at the very last second. It was almost miraculous Seph could sleep through it, but then Seph hadn’t had an easy time of it lately. Demeter checked her watch: 12:00 pm exact. Ain’t nothin’ more exacting to the absolute second than death, she thought. She never liked her brother much but would give him credit for that: in the underworld, the train ran on damned time. Heh, damned time; that was a good enough joke she’d tell Seph when she was in the mood for a laugh again. Was a harmless enough joke that even her good-for-almost-nothing brother might find it funny.

Hades threw the door to her daughter’s car open, and Demeter watched with cool eyes as she took him in for the first time in six months. She couldn’t even remember the last time they’d all been together without bein’ at throats before that. She’d barely seen him six months past; he’d been hidden behind her daughter’s bags and had barely said five words to her. Now exposed, she took a good look at him. He’d aged more than she’d realized, and somehow that was surprising even though she had gone and done the same; her stomach finally filled out with motherly paunch, her hair finally gone all grey. His, somehow, had gone white, a shock of snow on that ol’ patrician face of daddy’s that Hades had finally, at long last, grown into. Body-wise he was mostly the same, big on top and super skinny underneath; still as broad in the chest as he always was, with legs too long and skinny for his own good. And still way too pale; if she was as dark as the earth, he was as pale as a death cap mushroom burstin’ up from the underneath.  Hard to believe her brother and her were the same species, let alone siblings.

“Well if it isn’t Demeter Carpophoros,” he said, bowing with a hint of sarcasm dripping from his tongue. Demeter took no offense at this. He was always a little shit. “Nice to see ya, though you aren’t who I was expectin’.”

He looked beyond her, and Demeter took in all the little signs of his anxieties that she knew he wouldn’t admit to: his sleeves were rolled up, so no doubt he’d  been pacin’; he had a slight frown in his face, and she knew he wondered if this was it, Persephone packin’ up his bags and sendin’ her momma to send him home alone; his eyebrows were moving behind those contemptible sunglasses, so she knew he was ruthlessly evaluating Demeter, trying to  decide what her story was and why she was here and thus, how rude he should be. Hades thought he was intimidating, but he had forgotten Demeter knew him from the moment he was born, and ain’t nothin’ intimidatin’ about a man once you changed his diapers, even death incarnate.

“She’s here, but…You and me? We gonna have a little talk first.” She shoved him back into his damn train car and Hades let her; he knew better than most what her wrath looked like. She held out Persephone’s luggage; her girl was packin’ light this year, just a couple of bags. Not bringin’ the drink cut her baggage down a lot, and Demeter was glad of that, provided this big lug didn’t make her baby girl wanna start drinkin’ again.  “Make yourself useful, brother.”

“First time you’ve called me that in a long time,” he drawled. “This it?”

“That’s it.” He frowned, but he took her daughter’s things and slowly, reverently put them on a luggage rack. He even tied them down which Demeter supposed was a good sign that he would be responsible enough to handle a small infant on his own in the summertime. Mostly. He was still a male god, and they were almost all useless in that department. Maybe since he was so old for a first-time father, he’d be old enough he’d actually figure out how to change a diaper instead of demanding a woman do it.

“Yeah, well. Maybe you can get used to me callin’ you brother again, if you keep behavin'.” He chuckled at that and dared to shoot her a little nervous grin. Demeter could always tell the difference on him; his tell was that the nervous smile was wider than the genuine, him showin’ off just a bit too much of those mean teeth. He stood to his full height as if he was readin’ her mind and didn’t like that she knew him that well. Or at least, she had, once. He looked down at her and she looked up. She felt her old annoyance at how he got to be so damn tall, like dad; she flecked off his sunglasses, an old-ass instinct that made her smile before she’d quite realized she had done it.

“Hey…” He blinked, confused as she tucked the sunglasses into his pocket. He wasn’t used to the upper world light. Too bad. She wanted her daughter to see him god damn plain when he saw her.

And, hell, she wouldn’t deny she wanted to see his expression, too.

“Sit.” He did, spread out like a king: legs wide, hands on his knees. He looked straight at her face, deadly serious, and she took her seat on the opposite side. She would give Hades credit for one thing: the seats on this jalopy were pretty comfy. And she supposed that the style wasn’t bad, if you considered saloon-room meets funeral parlor an aesthetic.

“What’s this about, Deme?”  His old childhood nickname for her slipped out of his mouth effortlessly, and she didn’t call him on it. She’d give him that back. If they were gonna be tryin’, then she would be, too.

“Our girl.” She snorted. “What else?”  He was a part of Persephone just as much as Demeter was, no matter how much Demeter didn’t like admittin’ that. They had been married a good few millennia now, so she supposed he was bound to rub off on her little girl a bit.

“What about her? Is she okay?” His words were all sotto-voice; soft, soft, soft. She could hear the love in his voice there, and fates only know how he got it in him, that love, because Hades had been colder than stone for the first forty thousand years of his life and by all the war reports Demeter had gotten he slipped right back into that damn often, but Demeter was almost thankful for him feelin’ that love, at least right now. There were worse men her baby girl could have reproduced with, if certainly there were better men, too. Least he was reliable.

“She’s sleepin’.” “…Sleeping?” He looked at her oddly. “Thought you said she was here.”

“She is. Sleepin’ on a bench out there. Exhausted, the poor little thing. Nodded off when we got here an hour ago. Didn’t even wake up when you pulled in.” Despite what was surely his best attempt to get her attention with that terrible din and clanging.

“Sleeping? At this hour?” He looked out into the sunlight, as if he was puzzled anyone could sleep in daytime. She supposed that was a normal enough reaction if someone was a miserable old mole who spent all day every day in the dark, which he was. “She okay?”

“Physically? Right as rain, but that girl is exhausted. She been worryin’ herself six months straight about you, boy,” she said, pointing her finger at his chest; she was probably one of only three people who could get away with calling Hades that and she basked in it. “I want you to know something, Hades: my daughter wrote you one hundred and eighty-two versions of the same damn letter, only to tear each and every one of ‘em up. I been watchin’ her tear those – and herself – up for months. Months. Ain’t been fun.”

“Oh.” He frowned, slightly pensive. Which was more expressive than he usually was, with anyone but Seph.

“I didn’t save’em, I respect her privacy too much for that.” And she had promised not to tell him, even if she wanted, badly, to do so. “Well...I didn’t get any of ‘em, but...We left on good terms, Deme. Better than…years.” He smiled a bit at that, and she wanted to roll her eyes, bite back and tell him, I know, how do you think my baby girl got herself in this mess? But she couldn’t say that, because he didn’t know about that mess just yet. He was still smiling, and, on another man, it might have been cute, but on him it came off as vaguely predatory; bragging. He didn’t need to. Frankly, everybody in the damn pantheon knew they on good terms; this had been the first springtime in years. Decades, even. ‘Bout to see the first autumn, too. He didn’t need to shout to the world they’d repaired their off-key tempo, the whole world could see it. Obvious.

Demeter frowned into her seat, debating how to best give her baby brother her …expectations as to how he should react to news she couldn’t give. Persephone had made her swear a Stygian oath on not tell ’im, and Demeter wasn’t willing to get washed down to Hades’ awful shores just yet for this, even if it meant more time with her daughter. “Ain’t about yer relationship. Something more basic than that. Some…life changes. She worries about your reaction because she’s a …a little bit different, then when she left ya last winter.”

“Oh.” He looked confused at that and she supposed she couldn’t blame him, because if you fired blanks for hundreds of thousands of years, you did tend to assume your pistol wasn’t loaded. Turned out, he was just a bad shot.  A ridiculously bad shot. But that wasn’t what he thought of; she could tell what he was thinkin’ of because he was lookin’ at her real intently, and she knew he was wonderin’ if maybe his girl was startin’ to look a little less too-young for him, and a little more like her momma. To his credit, he shook his head a second later. “So what if she goes a bit grey? We’ll match.”

Ain’t no way you two ever match, Demeter thought, but kept herself from saying. Persephone would be proud of her momma’s restraint, she thought. Well, she’d let him think it was a little grey hair for a bit.

“Good. Cuz I ain’t sayin’ it’s you, but her daddy…he didn’t react too good to this kind of thing, and that’s the only frame of reference she’s got for this and she’s scared. So you better do better than your brother. You go over there and you hold her and you tell her she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. Cuz you’ve put our girl through enough, you owe her that relief.”

“I know,” he mumbled, quiet; his cheeks were a bit pink, which meant he was at least a bit sorry for almost ending the world over his stupid-ass insecurities. “I… I am trying, Deme.” He said, visibly pained with his arms out, as if she’d been holding a gun on him; honestly, only great Gaia knew how he’d ever gotten to the point of bein’ able to tell her little girl anything, let alone marryin’ him, if he was still gonna be like this.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” She stood and he stood, too; they were done for the year. Autumn chill was in the air, and it was high time for Demeter to press some cider and for him to get along home. “Guess it’s time she goes back down to yer old abode, now.”

He nodded; Demeter stood to the side, let him go blinking into the sun, and followed closely behind. If he blew this, in any way, she would bury his ass in the backyard for a full six months and her daughter could visit him outside and water him with their ferns.  Demeter had checked with Zeus; that would technically count as allowing him his six months, long as he got to be with her.  Seph wouldn’t mind campin’ outdoors to fulfill his custody to the full letter of the law.

“Third row.” He tossed a raised eyebrow back at her – normally Seph sat up front, bright and ready —  well, she had back when he’d actually waitedinstead of just grabbin’ her soon as he got an itch, regardless of if it was June or August or gods forbid, May  – but well, he’d figure out the obvious reason in a moment. She noted his step got a bit faster, and she followed hot on his heels as he went down one row, two.

And then his breath caught. And he stopped. Demeter stopped next to him, watched him watch her little girl, all curled up with one hand over her wide, curving belly. Still looked a bit too much like a sacrifice for Demeter’s taste, but hell, that was probably a turn-on for him.

“Oh.” It was all he said, but there were thousands of emotions in it. He raised a hand, dropped it. Looked at her, blinked, looked back at Persephone. “Oh!” He said again, and Demeter had the pleasure of the King of the Dead completely, utterly shell-shocked.

Which, frankly, she savored. Wasn’t like he hadn’t pulled out the rug from under her once; they were even now.

“You see,” was all she said, quiet. She coulda bragged, but again, for Persephone, she would restrain herself. She didn’t know if they had ever talked about kids; she’d tried to talk to Persephone about it long ago, but all Persephone would say then was that they weren’t tryin’ yet in a harsh voice, and eventually one did stop asking after a few thousand years went by without a grandchild poppin’ up.  Her brothers gossiped that Hades’ takin’ on the role of the underworld’s master had dried up whatever he had stored up in his balls, but her brothers were idiots who frequently forgot there had been a god of the dead before Hades, and Iapetus had had five children during his time guardin’ the old downstairs. She thought it was probably the stress on her little girl from the constant travel, or a genuine desire from the both of ‘im to not make their frankly fucked up situation at the best of times even more so, but well — it hadn’t happened. And before this, she thought, that was probably for the best.

But now it had.

And Hades was — well, processing, because he clearly believed it would never happen later.

“Six months?!” He said at her, gesturing at her. “She couldn’t… Six months?!”

“Hundred and eighty letters, Hades,” she said, holding her hands out. “I know you might be mad, but – she's been distressed. Made me swear to not say a word, and gave Hermes such a run-around I think that old gossip is still dizzy. Come at her with venom in your mouth and you will lose her.” Truth was, Demeter understood why her daughter had been unable to tell him.

He exhaled, loud, through his mouth. Typical to Hades, he offered no indication of whether he was gonna take her advice or not.

She saw that big jaw move in an unreadable mull twice, then he closed the distance between him and their girl, falling to his knees in front of her. He ran a very shaky hand over Seph’s face, not quite daring to touch, just yet.

“You’re a little late, sunshine,” he sputtered; he stroked her face gently and Seph’s eyes opened, lookin’ like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. She stared hard at his face, like she was trying to discern some divine truth out of his stone face, and he swallowed, but otherwise kept his face as stoic as the rock he generally was.

“I missed ya,” she murmured. His voice crumbled into something that might have been a laugh or a sob in response, but Seph smiled, and she decided it must be some joke between them that Demeter wasn’t privy to. Hades leaned forward, and Demeter blinked in surprise as her baby brother planted a kiss on her daughter’s forehead. She suspected he might kiss her on the mouth if Demeter wasn’t around, but well, Demeter was kind of happy he didn’t.  Weren’t on that good of terms yet. Seph wrapped her arms around him and hung onto him with desperate zeal, eyes shut tight, and Demeter knew her little girl was still nervous, though why she had no idea because it wasn’t like the man was blind, for all the time he spent down in the mines.

“Missed you, too.” The sotto voice again; soft and sweet as Hades got, which wasn’t very but evidently was enough for her little girl. His hand was caressing her arm now, trying to get up the courage to go further down she suspected. Seph shrugged him off a bit, pushed up to a sitting position or at least attempted to; she did not miss that and Seph was larger now than she’d been right before the girl had come.  After watchin’ her struggle for a moment, Hades stumbled to help her maneuver up, to his admittedly limited credit. She expected him to get up and grab her hand, let them finish this conversation on the train in private, but — he didn’t. Instead, he just shifted a bit, moving between her legs so he could lay the side of his head on her belly.

Nobody moved for a long, long moment.

“It is yours—  Seph said, and Hades and Demeter both snorted; it was obvious it was his. Beyond obvious.

“I know. Can I…?” He asked, hand out-stretched.

“It is yours,” Seph said, her voice wavering. Demeter bit back a snort watching her brother’s face, still severe, as he pressed a curious hand to her belly, slowly rubbing little circles in the fabric of her dress as if the dress would reach out and devour his arm.

“Do you want…?” Seph bit her lips and Demeter glared into her brother, because he damn well was at the moment of truth and if he blew it so help Zeus she would hurt that man. She wasn’t kidding about gardening him like a particularly caustic onion if she had to. Maybe cut off a few shoots, too – wasn’t like they wouldn’t grow back. Eventually.

“I want, beautiful.” Hades leaned into Persephone with a soft sigh, glancing up at her. “I want.”

And her daughter’s eyes closed and that — well, it wasn’t quite the flowery language her little girl deserved, but it was enough for her. Her daughter smiled, and Demeter relaxed. She knew she should leave’em then, let them have their time, but it was a charmin’ tableau even if Hades was in it, and she couldn’t think of the last time all three of ‘em had been gathered together with anything less than bitterness between them, so she savored the moment.

And though she’d never ever tell them it, maybe her heart did melt for the old bastard just a tiny bit when her brother’s lips pressed a kiss into Seph’s belly, fondness surprisingly evident in his stern old face. “Hello there, little shoot.”

“Shoots,” her daughter said, barely audible. That had been the part Demeter was happiest about, truth be told: she had always regretted not giving Persephone a sister or two. She’d had Arion, but Arion was, well, a horse, and it was hard to cross that divide when it came to children’s’ games. At least her grandchildren would never know the loneliness of being the only child in the family.

Besides, Hera never had triplets in her line, not even in all her grandbabies, so now Demeter had something to brag about up on the mountain.

“…Shoots?” He looked up abruptly with his jaw hanging a bit open and Demeter actually did have to hide her own mouth to stop from laughing because his look was, well – dumb-founded. Persephone reached out and shut his jaw with an audible click, looking aside to her mother with a look that expressed her amusement at her husband’s idiocy.  “So…how many branches are we addin’ to the family tree?” He asked, and Demeter had to laugh, because she could see her baby brother runnin’ actuary tables in his head already as far as what his kids were gonna cost him.

“Three.” He looked at her belly again, the look starting to skirt closer to terror but not quite getting there, morphing somewhere along the way into a mix of complicated emotions, and settling on what looked like a complicated sort-of happiness — or as happy as Hades got, which was a small genuine smile with his eyes closed.

“Well…good. Our little bramble, briar and thorn won’t be lonely.”  He chuckled deep into her belly. “Ain’t like they got a lot of little cousins to play with.”

“Yes, you two well and truly did wait long enough,” Demeter huffed. “Don’t even know what’s left for them to be Gods of.”

“We’ll find somethin’.” Her brother stood, though it took him a moment, his knees cracking; he was so old, Demeter thought ruefully. They all were. Standing and looking a tiny bit more distinguished now, he held out his hand. “Do you… should you…stay? Til…” Demeter could see how much it pained him to offer her that, after six months of waitin’. He couldn’t stay up-top, not that long. Death wasn’t really allowed much of a holiday, which had been the one thing that she enjoyed about her daughter’s marriage, early on: he never could follow her everywhere, and she suspected he might have tried had he been dealt a smaller lot.

“No. I missed ya.” Her daughter got up, or at least tried; she faltered, forced already into that odd waddle that Demeter would be sorry to miss the final culmination of.  Seph was already much bigger than she should be, but Demeter blamed Hades for that.  He helped her stand — a bit late again, but faster than last time, he was learnin’ — and offered his arm. Persephone leaned into it and Demeter felt an odd pang of something – not quite gratitude, not quite sadness. Zeus had never done such for her, and a few thousand years ago — great grandmother Gaia, six months ago, she wouldn’t have thought Hades would, either.

When she’d seen him then—red rimmed eyes, mouth trembling as he held out Seph's bags in an awkward peace gesture—she hadn’t, really, imagined she ever would again.

“Besides…” Seph started and looked at her momma with an unreadable look for a moment, and Hades and Demeter both looked at her, and she could see in Hades’ face the mirror of her own: curiosity and worry crashing together.

“The children should be…born at home,” Seph murmured, in that quiet way her daughter had of saying important things in an almost flippant way.  Demeter flinched; she didn’t consider the underworld Seph’s home as much as an eternal, if temporary, inconvenience. Hades took her daughter’s declaration better: his arms closed around her and she saw his hand tremble as he embraced her, smoothin’ down her hair.  

“I’d like that,” he said softly. “Like that a lot.”

And she knew, of course, that was why Seph had said it. Tryin’ worked both ways, and makin’ their babies underworld natives meant they’d be a lot more like their daddy than their momma. Her daughter curled her hands over his shoulders and they stood together for a long moment. And Demeter thought, maybe, well, maybe she was wrong they didn’t fit together. Because while they looked fucking ridiculous — her daughter as gorgeous a sunshine child as always, Hades as dour a shadow as had ever been made — they looked happy. And maybe Demeter could let her go, just a bit; Seph knew her momma always had her back, anyway.

Demeter moved back to them, gently tapped them both on the shoulder. “You’re runnin’ late. Better get goin’.”

“I’ll be back when — when its time,” Hades said, a little quiver in his voice and she bit back a you had damn better and instead smiled, nodded.

“I’ll be here,” she said, tapping Persephone’s shoulder; her daughter turned toward her, and she pressed her lips to their girl’s forehead with the last bit of summer-time in her kiss. “Now get goin’.”

Demeter should have turned and walked back to her home, squeezed some apples into cider, but she watched them board and watch the train the whole way down the track, not turning to walk back home til the train was no longer visible, til its whistle had long stopped echoing.

The first fall leaves in a long damned time crunched under her feet the whole way back, and Demeter smiled.

Mythology notes:

The name Hades calls Persephone's momma Demeter when he first sees her, Demeter Carpophoros, was one of her surnames that was used in cult in Tegea and Paros and meaning, roughly, "fruit bearer." Hades might be showing respect, and might be not-so-subtly suggesting she produce the fruit he wants (eg Persephone).

Arion is Persephone's half-brother, Demeter's son via Poseidon according to Pseudo-Apollodorus and Pausanias. And yes, he is a horse.

The triplets are a reference to the Orphic hymns, which attribute the Erinyes/Furies as three daughters of Hades and Persephone: "[Erinyes] from Zeus Khthonios (Chthonius) [Haides] born, and Persephone, whom lovely locks adorn."

Next week's story will be goin' back, way back.

[arthur-morgans-blogg]

The last four days has left me feelin’ a lot more tired than I have in quite a while. It’s a lot to go over in my head, why I ain’t been writing every day like I thought I would be, but I have finally set aside some time just outside camp about five miles or so, and I think I may finally be able to put it all into words...

I got a letter, a bit back, some guy claiming he was my father’s brother and that he’d been lookin’ for me for years with no luck only to finally hear my name some months ago on the lips of the law. He wanted to meet up in Saint Denis for drinks and he said he was bringing his wife. 

Now, it ain’t exactly all calmed down yet, I’m sure there’s still law looking for us all over America, so I was cautious but I wrote back that I’d meet ‘em, but I’d bring a friend with me just to be safe.  ‘Bout a week later I got another letter saying it was all set then.

Charles and I ended up meeting up with my Uncle Stan and Aunt Islay--they couldn’t have been nicer people and I’m still gobsmacked at it to be fair to all those involved.  Who my father was compared to who these people are is a complete night and day from each other. I’m still not sure how to come to terms with the fact I am no longer then only Morgan left in existence.

We took them up North Ambarino and along down to Coastal Ambarino as well, and spent dinners being treated to either Stan’s delicious cooking or fancy (well, for me ‘n Charles) restaurants instead of Pearson’s recent muck, and lots of liquor.

Charles is calling me from the fire about tonight’s dinner, so I better wrap this entry up and get to the other subjects later....

On the subject of liquor, last night was Islay and Stan’s last night in Ambarino before they set sail for Italy for a holiday to celebrate being married or somethin’. We all had a little too much, except for Charles, or at least he didn’t show it. I remember dinner, I remember stumbling around with my folks afterwards, I have a solid memory of bidding them farewell at the stagecoach late last night, and then nothing. But I woke up in my cot this morning and the only damage is a horrible pounding in my head, bruises all over my body from God knows what, a small nail in my nose and a leather strap that was around my neck like a ribbon you’d put on a cat. 

I’m curious, but I ain’t sure I wanna know....

[thekrazykeke]

I promised myself no angst. ...Why did I lie to myself? LOL! By now y’all know that’s kind of my brand. Happiness mixed wit grief or foolishness mixed wit silliness. Drama meets sexy. Okay, I’ma stop, I’ma stop~

Previous.

@elaindeereads @autumn242 @punkrockwxnnabe @palmsofgranate @strawberrysoftkitten @wikiwakanda @lovemekaycee @managingmischiefdaily @gothambrat @marvel-snatched-my-wigs @youreadthatright @lovelylittlekittn @muse-of-mbaku @keya168 @misspooh

Although you hated this bougie neighborhood with a passion of a thousand suns, Erik promised that y’all would be moving out in a few weeks, a month tops and could choose together on an apartment or house to move into. With that in mind, you decided to find a hobby to occupy your time whenever you weren’t at work, and thus is how jogging became a thing, or actually, briskly walking along the trail that you had found close to the house.

Much to ya boo’s initial irritation, in the mornings you got up around five or six A.M and got dressed before heading out to start the regime, managing maybe two laps before returning to the house for a quick shower and breakfast, Erik always cooked, especially when he realized you had a routine and didn’t plan to stop, whether it’s a small bowl of grits and sausage or eggs and toast, he always made somethin’ because he didn’t consider a bowl of cereal as real breakfast. Then he kissed you on the cheek and locked up before y’all each went to work. 

Sometimes you saw Demi’s thirsty mcgurty lookin’ ass when you got home, as you normally got there first, and she’d always wave to you, sometimes, if you was feelin’ charitable, you’d wave back, most of the time, you pretended not to notice and just went inside. 

Dinner/date night is occasionally a hit and miss. 

If you weren’t too worn out, you’d cook a large enough meal to last several days, but Erik let you know via text whether he’d be working late with T’Challa or nah and to save him a plate, though sometimes he brought restaurant food home and y’all would sit up, watching trashy reality TV or something on Netflix. 

Weeks just shy of a year together, of course something had to go left field. 

You had gotten home later than normal and Erik still hadn’t arrived yet. Since you didn’t feel like cooking tonight, you order some food from that Greek place you’d both tried and liked last week. Rubbing the space between your eyebrows and nose, you glance at your cellphone which vibrates on the island counter. Frowning minutely, you snag the device and enter the code to unlock the screen.

A bad feeling forming in the pit of your stomach, you did as your older cousin bid, logging onto your rarely used Instagram account and finding Erik’s. The bad feeling only got worse as you realized what she was trying to hint at without actually fully dipping into anything. 

On his account, there were of course fans. 

Then there were people who claimed to have known him as kids growing up in Oakland. And then there were the schemers, one of them being a persistent female that seemed to fall into all three categories and was being super extra. Eyebrows raising and drawing together, then raising again, you read the several times she tried to call him out as her baby daddy and even put up an ultrasound picture. You went onto her page and your eyebrows raised to your hairline again, as she seemed pretty ‘normal’, minus her obsession with celebrities. Breanna hadn’t checked this girl out before giving you the scoop, obviously, or she’d have picked up on how delusional this girl truly was and her weird behavior.

“Baby, you wouldn’t believe the crazy thing that happened today.”

Distractedly, you tilt your chin and like clockwork, Erik kissed your cheek. “What happened?” Putting the cellphone down, you looked in his direction, to see that he’s opening the fridge and pulled out a gallon of apple juice. 

“You know how T’Challa likes to give those grand speeches an’ shit?” You hum to let him know that you’d heard him. “We was at this convention on 5th and Raeburn, that street by Lockland and Donahue Ave, with that community center still being constructed?”

“I remember.” You nod. 

“There was this pack of...” he poured some apple juice into a glass. “Old ladies that just came out in like, they Sunday finest or somethin’ and they was flirting mad heavy wit T’Challa. It was funny as fuck because because his eyes were screaming ‘help me!’ but his body language was relaxed. I think he nearly jumped out his skin when one of’em pinched him on the butt.” As he took a swig of his drink, he nearly choked on it, far too amused by the memory. 

“I warned him not to wear that suit.” 

You’re about to inquire further into what the hell he’s talking about but then he’s pulling out his cellphone, entering the code to unlock the device and showing you a picture. There T’Challa was and he’s dressed in a nice suit, in an offhand way, you can admit that he’s handsome but...

“He look like he goin’ to deliver a speech at church.”

Erik laughed, pocketing his phone. “Right?? I told him not to trust his stylist on this one. But ay, what do I know about deflecting attention and girls?”

And there is your opening, dropped neatly in your lap. You scratch your cheek. “It’s funny that you would say that. I mean, I guess you know all ‘bout swerving bitches, especially this one, right?” Before Erik could open his mouth and utter a word of rebuttal or defense, you shoved him the evidence. His teeth clicked shut and he pointed at the cellphone held loftily in your hold, scratching at his beard. 

“I was gon tell you about her.” 

You raised both eyebrows. “Really, when? Because she’s been in contact witchu since...three weeks ago. I gotta admit that got me feelin’ some type of way.” 

“Oh, you feelin’ some type of way?” He widened his eyes. “Baby, this is a blatant invasion of privacy. I ain’t given you any type of reason to think I’m doin’ nothin’ wrong because I haven’t been. An’, an’ you snooping through my social media accounts like I’m some sort of grimy ass nigga that fuck ‘round on you any chance I get? The fuck, girl?”

“Don’t try to switch it around.” You cross your arms over your chest. “I ain’t implied you was guilty of doin’ nothin’ wit nobody. I just want to know why you didn’t just let me know about this chick?” He cut you an incredulous look and you pursed your lips, giving him an annoyed look back.

 “...N’Jadaka, you love me. I love you. You say that you want me to be yo wife, you wanna marry me? Then secrets like this should not exist in our relationship, so that others outside our relationship can poke their noses in our business. We coulda handled this together, like a team.” 

He reared back. “Okay, back up. ‘Others outside our relationship’.” Scratching his neck, he looked away, counted to twenty, then looked back at you. “Someone else been snooping on my social media accounts, reporting back to you?” There’s another long moment of silence. “Someone in your family?” Erik questioned, though it might as well have been a statement. 

You realized you’d accidentally let the truth slip. “Well, it’s getting late...” You yawned, obnoxious and loud as you raise up from your seat. 

Stretching a hand out, he stops you from running away. “Y/N.”

“I’m not gon name any names, but yes. Okay? Yes. I didn’t tell this person to do that, but they felt it was pertinent information for me to know, just in case. My family,” You let out a large sigh. “My family’s always in errbody business. It’s partially why I stay away from them in the first place.” You glance at him, looking him straight in the eye. “...You still should have told me.”

Erik reached out, snagging your wrists and bringing you closer to him. “I know. I had plans to but...I just figured I should squash all the craziness before telling you about it.”

You can feel his heartbeat, a steady rhythm beneath your ear. “I’d feel better if I knew the truth.” You look up at him, he looked down at you. 

“...Is that yo baby, Erik?”

Almost as if he expected that, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled up letter, offering it to you. Looking at him in askance, but not receiving an answer, you instead opened the letter, reading silently, sounding the words out. Then looking at him once again and he raised an eyebrow, a bit of dimple showing as he cocked his head to the side.

“That’s not yo baby.” 

He took the paper back. “No it ain’t.” Erik assured. “I wasn’t even gon pay that girl none of my attention or feed into that bullshit, but T’Challa was persistent I get the DNA test done. Like my pull out game that weak.”

A startled laugh escaped. “Nigga...”

The doorbell rang and you looked in the direction of the front door. “There’s dinner.” Before you could take a step towards it, he tugged you back. “...What?”

“Witcho history of answering doors, let’s not chance it.” You roll your eyes and he maneuvered you so that you’re walking back to the dining room. “I got it.” 

So, crisis averted. It’s clear that you and Erik still had some issues to work out individually and together, but there was an intent to actually do so, not to let the problem fester into something bigger. Talks of therapy were brought into discussion that night and while he initially balked at the idea, by morning he agreed to at the very least try. 

Another week passed. 

Nakida’s fifteenth birthday was coming up fast and Darius needed a little help getting everything together for her party. His little girl was maturing into a little lady and there were things that she didn’t like anymore that she did last year and a lot of the new things that she liked or wanted were way, way out of his price range. 

Being that Darius is a quiet, prideful individual and man, you had to come at him in a certain way so that he didn’t feel like you were looking down on him, and with Erik’s go head -- (“Baby, you really gotta stop asking me if you can bring ya family over. This is our house. Ours, not just mines.”) -- had offered to have the party right here in y’all home. 

The backyard was big enough for the entire immediate family to come if they wanted to. And being that Nakida was sort of raised by everybody, not just Darius, of course they wanted to. People were bringing plates, drinks (alcohol and not), extra food, and decorations, and Darius, after much hemm’ing and haww’ing, eventually just surrendered.

Finally, the day arrived, and things were going off (miraculously) without a hitch! Perhaps because it was just universally acknowledged and accepted not to start any BS on Nakida’s birthday. 

Whatever the reasoning, you were thankful for it.

Things certainly got a little more interesting when Erik got home, the party still in full swing, with T’Challa in tow. 

“Happy birthday.” The king smiled, holding out his gift. Nakida thanked him, fidgeting as she looked from T’Challa to Erik and back again. “...Is everything okay?”

Nakida hesitated for a long moment, clearly wanting to say something before nodding. “Food’s for everyone, help yaself, bye!”

T’Challa looked at Erik, wordlessly asking what was going on, but Erik shrugged, “Teenagers.” That’s all he had to say on the subject. “Look, I’m hungry as shit. I’m bout to make me a plate.”

“Wait, I’m hungry too!”

“You say that like it’s my problem.” 

Breanna softly shook your arm. “Oh my gah, he’s here again.” The older woman hissed. You cut her a look and she released you. “Sorry! It’s just, why you ain’t tell me? I woulda dressed up more.”

“Girl, this a birthday party. Good thing neither of us knew T’Challa was comi--mmph?!”

“Don’t mention the ‘c’ word and his name in the same sentence. I can feel myself having ideas, like does he smile when he has the big ‘O’?” 

Davion tossed a cup of water on her as he passed by. “You. just. nasty.” 

“Oooh, boy!”

Rolling your eyes heavenward, you shook your head as Breanna chased Davion around, trying to beat him up. What was a celebration of any kind in this family without a bit of drama?

“Who is that?” T’Challa inquired, watching as the woman went running by, a slightly younger male laughing. 

Erik is more interested in eating his plate. “Whatchu talmbout now?”

“Stand still so I can beat ya ass!”  “Hell nah, bruh! You can’t get mad because I told the truth!”

It’d be rude to point. So T’Challa juts his chin at the woman, trying to be as subtle as he can. Erik glances around to see who he’s talking about, only to nearly choke on some macaroni as he realized who his cousin had pointed out.

“You met her before. Go talk to her.”

T’Challa’s shaking his head before he even finished saying his suggestion. “No, I can’t.” Erik rose from his seat and the other man slightly panicked. “Where are you going?”

Erik waved him off. Unlike T’Challa secretly feared, Erik didn’t go and rat him out, instead going into the house for some reason. Releasing the breath that he didn’t know that he’d been holding in, he turned around, deciding to enjoy his own plate of food before it got too cold.

“Oooh, ayyy, zaddy.”

T'Challa suddenly found himself with a lapful of a beautiful, smiling woman. He thinks her name is… Wracking his brain desperately, after a few seconds, he smiled, clearing his throat, “…Breanna?”

Apparently his guess is right because she nuzzled her face into his neck and he bites the inside of his cheek. “Yes, my extra fione chocolate man?”

“I do not, ah…I do not think…”

“Don’t worry, baby daddy, leave the thinking to me.”

Isiah is wandering by to refill his cup. But paused in his tracks when he overheard that last little tidbit. “Pregnant? You pregnant? Didn’t you say you was getting yo tubes tied, Fertile Myrtle?!”

“Damn, cuz. You move fast. I said talk to her, not knock her up.” N'Jadaka threw his two cents in.

“That baby ain’t goin’ to Wakanda, bruh.” Darius said bluntly.

“There is not…she is not…”

“It’s a girl and I'ma name her Te'Jai.” Breanna proclaimed.

Eventually, the truth is soused out and poor T’Challa is told that he’s being teased, to get him to lighten up. He does relax greatly afterwards, coming out of his suit and listening to jokes, sometimes trading some of his own and stories. 

Most people went home by 2 A.M. but the ones who didn’t stayed in the guest rooms. Color you surprised when T’Challa came sneaking out Breanna’s room a quarter to five. He looked at you with the classic deer in headlights expression, you looked at him before shrugging and opening the door, gesturing for him to go first. 

They was grown. 

Whatever they did or did not do wasn’t none of ya business.