#there is no pictures of arthur covered in blood it took me ages to find that photo

[blood285]

THEY SHOULD MAKE OUT???

[me-and-your-husband]

Need Someone (Part 2)

Summary: Reader gets into some trouble, and doesn’t know who else to call besides her best friend’s dad, District Attorney Andy Barber.

Warnings: age gap, kidnapping and attempted sexual assault.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Note: Lets say reader is 18 and in senior year.

    I had managed to get my captor to untie me from the bed, which was the first step in the right direction. Now, I sat with my legs hanging off the side of the bed, trembling. He sat beside me, stroking my hair. I could feel his hot breath on my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that I would be able to endure less of it. When I was finally able to stop thinking about the man’s lingering breath on my neck, I felt his dry lips attach to my neck in a chaste kiss. I let out a noise of disgust, and my eyes widened when I realized what I just did.

   A calloused hand came up to grip my jaw, and the man swiftly turned my face to meet his. His eyebrows met in a frenzy of anger, yet the corners of his mouth curled up in a sinister smirk. 

“I thought you were ‘gonna be cooperative, Hon’,” He said rhetorically. My bottom lip trembled out of fear when I tried to speak. Breaking eye contact, I moved my gaze back down to my hands, clutching the bed sheets.

Just then, I felt a cold force hit my cheek, sending me flying to the floor with a thud. I pressed my hand to my cheek, my cold hand being a vast contrast to the burning flesh where the mark was left. A shaky breath escaped my lips, as my eyes darted around the room, searching for a plan. The man let out an almost grizzly-like growl at this, and lunged toward me. Luckily, I was able to bound away and stumble through the bedroom door. Trying to navigate my way through this house was difficult; the man had carried me up here when I was unconscious. 

     Sprinting to the door to what I assumed would be the stairs, I slammed the door behind me and my trembling hand frantically moved to lock it, but the whole door handle had been removed. Adrenaline pumped through my body as I looked around the room. It seemed to be a guest room, decorated with little but a bed, a nightstand with a single lamp on it, and a rocking chair sat by the small window, which was currently open, letting a draft in, causing the thin curtains to sway in the breeze.

   My legs took me to the window, where I yelled for help as loud as I could, even sticking my head out the window to wave to anyone passing by. It was light now, around noon, according to the place of the sun in the sky. Surely, the Barbers had realized something was wrong when Jacob didn’t hear from me yet today. 

“Come here, you bitch!” is what echoed through the hall, heavy footsteps approaching the door. The thought went into my head for a brief moment, and I knew I had to at least try. I grabbed the lamp from the nightstand and removed the shade, revealing a glass lightbulb. Quickly, I ran to hide behind the doorknob-less door, and held the lamp close to my chest, Drawing a deep breath in, I waited for the door to swing open.

  Once the door opened, I waited for the man to step far enough into the room. His sweaty figure had it’s back turned towards me, to which I stepped forward, raising the lamp above my head. I brought it down with force, and the sound of glass shattering could be heard amongst the throaty groan the man let out. Blood trickled from his bald skull, as his hand came up to check the wound site. When he seen that crimson painted his fingers, he slowly turned around to face me. The lamp in my hands, which were cut and bleeding from the glass, fell onto the ground in between us. 

“You little slut. You think you can do this to me? Just wait until I get my hands on you, you little...” I couldn’t hear the rest, as my legs took me down the stairs, as if I knew this house like my own, and for some reason I ran right past the back door, and went for the kitchen. Flying around the kitchen island, I grabbed a knife from the knife block. Getting down with my back up against the cabinet of the kitchen island, I tried to steady my breath. For a few minutes, I heard nothing but silence. Then, a low, steady, unwavering, monotone groan, and something dragging. Then, more silence. 

     Hot tears spilled onto my cheeks, and the copper taste filled my mouth. I let go of the bottom lip that I had been anxiously gnawing on and stood up to take a peek over the island. My face was met with the man, blood running down the side of his face, leaning forward over the counter. 

“Well, hi there,” he whispered, almost inaudibly. A blood-curdling shriek left my lips, one that felt like I had been holding back for a century. His large hand grabbed me by the hair, picking me up and throwing me across the kitchen floor, causing the knife in my hand to fall and slide across the floor.. I landed with a crack, and tried to ignore the pain resonating in my arm. 

“No, no please stop, you don’t have to do this,” I cried, crawling backwards as best as I could on my elbows. I inched towards the knife, as he stalked towards me. He brought his foot out and gave me a hard kick in the ribs, gaining another cry out of me. As I lay there clutching my side, he sat on my legs, keeping me in place. Reaching into his pocket, he brought out a small gadget. Flipping it open , he revealed that it was a pocket knife. 

“Now, since you won’t behave, I’ll give you something to remember me every time you look in the mirror,” He stated dastardly. Despite my thrashing, he brought the knife up to just under my left eye on my cheek, and pressed into the skin. He didn’t go deep enough for me to bleed out, nor for it to scar, but it still hurt like a bitch, 

    His other hand came up to cover my mouth, muffling my screams and protests. He dragged the blade along my flesh, but in moment of his hesitation, I caught him off guard and brought my fist up to his stomach. The blow was hard enough for him to fall off of me, releasing my legs. I crawled on my stomach over to the knife that was now a few feet away from me. 

When my fingertips brushed the hilt of it, A strong hand wrapped around my ankle. He pulled me back towards him, but luckily I had managed to wrap my hand around the knife’s blade, cutting into my hand. I moved my hand down to the hilt, and turned around. I plunged it straight into his neck, and his eyes popped out of their sockets. Both of his hands immediately came up to clutch his bleeding neck. Blood gushed and squirted out of it. Within ten seconds, we were both laying in a pool of our blood, more his than mine.

    I listened to his breathing patterns. They finally went form sounding mucus-filled and clotted, to none at all. Once I had realized he was really dead and he was safe, the adrenaline started to wear off and I became tired. 

   The realization that I needed help was what brought me back from drifting off. I managed to climb off the floor, and reach the house phone that sat on the counter by the stove. I grabbed the phone and dialed 911, but a thought crossed my mind. What if I get charged for murder? What if they don’t understand it was self defense?

    I finally make up my mind, and make the decision to call the only other person I know that can for sure help me. I dialed Andy Barber’s number, and waited as it rung. I crossed my fingers in hopes that he would pick up. While it was ringing, I took in my surroundings. The white kitchen walls were now splattered with blood, the tiled floor flooded in it. My clothes were soaked in either his blood or mine. This reminded me of my cheek, to which I brought my hand up to swipe across. This was a bad idea, as the touch made it sting more.

 I was pulled out of my trance by a tired, raspy voice. “Andy Barber speaking,” came from the other line, and I let out a breath I had been holding in. 

“Andy?” I said, but it came out in almost a whisper. It was like I could physically feel him perk up.

“Y/N? Is that you? Where are you?”

“Andy, I don’t know where I am. I’m in a house,” I told him earnestly. 

“Alright,” he sighed. I could just imagine him running his hand over his face. “Look for bills, or anything that could have the address on it,” 

I hummed in response and began scavenging the kitchen for bills or documents. I went through all of the drawers and cupboards with the phone between my ear and shoulder, finding nothing. I was just about ready to give up when I noticed a paper pinned on the stainless steel refrigerator with a magnet. I crept up to the fridge, almost cautiously. I held the phone to my ear with one hand and reached out for the paper slowly with the other. I plucked it off of the fridge and held it in front of me. My trembling hand made it difficult to read, but I could make out a name. 

ROBERT ARTHUR HADDOCK

1271 ASPIN WAY

“1271 Aspin Way, that’s where I am,” I said in monotone to the phone. Andy cleared his throat. 

“Okay, alright. Just hang tight, honey. I’ll send the police down, they’ll be there shortly. Stay on the line, okay?” he said soothingly. 

“No, no Andy you can’t, I-”

“It’s alright, honey it’ll be fine, I trust these people. I wouldn’t let them anywhere near you if I didn’t,” He reassured me. It might have been inappropriate, the time and place considered, but the pet name he kept using made my heart flutter.

“It’s not that, I...I killed him,”

Silence from the other end. I could picture Andy’s mouth agape. 

“But-but it was in self defense, I swear! He was trying to hurt me, he did hurt me. Oh right, I’m still bleeding,” I said, voice trailing off at the end. This brought him out of his silence.

“What! Y/N, you’re hurt? How bad is it?” He badgered, concern laced in his voice.

“I think my arm’s broke, he cut my cheek, and he kicked me in the ribs. There’s blood everywhere, oh God. I don’t even know how much of it’s mine...” I mewled, my voice cracking at the end, the tears coming back down again.

“I’m on my way,” Andy stated.

“Please don’t tell Jacob, and don’t bring anybody else, please,” I begged.

“I won’t,” he said gently, before I heard a car door open and shut swiftly. “...Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“It’s been nearly three days. For three fucking days you could have been dead,”

Sitting on the floor by the front door, I sat talking to Andy as he drove. This house was on the other side of Newton. 

The phone I was using gave a warning beep, to let me know that it was almost dead.

“Andy. the phone’s almost dead,” I said softly.

“It’s okay, I’m almost there. I’m about five minutes away, you can unlock the-” 

The phone died.

Letting out a sigh, I threw the drained house phone across the room. “Damn it,” I murmured to myself. It was then, sitting in the approaching darkness, utterly alone, that I realized that I needed to use the washroom. The only problem was, I didn’t know where it was, and I just killed the guy who owns it. 

I stood up with a grunt, and started opening random doors. When I opened the last one at the end of a long, white corridor, a foul smell floated into the air. Trying to keep down the lunch I was deprived of, I plugged my nose. My eyes found a small string hanging from the ceiling, to which I assumed would turn on a light. I was correct.

    Bright orange light flooded the small room, which revealed to me that there was one flight of stairs below me. At the bottom, the sight I was presented with shook me to my core.

    Seven women lay on the landing at the end of the stairs, all defiled and mutilated. The bodies of the women were bloated and purple, and some even looked like they had started rotting. 

    The scream that left my mouth this time was so vile and so loud, that I couldn’t hear Andy forcefully opening the front door and stumbling in, yelling my name. I only stopped screaming when I fell to the ground, either passing out from blood loss or shock, cheeks wet from tears. Andy’s thick arms wrapped around me, catching me before I hit the hard ground.

Tags: @zaddychris @kyrarose16 @lexeeehhh @kelbabyblue​ @lovelivelife128

@kalesrebellion​

[fuckingthefictional]

Being Ada’s best friend and falling for Tommy would include.

Becoming friends with her after the boys go off to fight

Some much older lad was trying to flirt with her and Ada looked uncomfortable. So...

“Oi you stupid cunt! Can you fuck off before a bullet gets put into your head by yours truly?”

The man scarpered off after being confronted and publically humiliated

Ada recognises you from the first aid church hall thing

“Thanks for saving me back there”

“no problem us small heath girls have to stick together”

“You’re Y/N right?”

“The one and only, And you’re Ada Shelby”

The old bloke returned with some of his friends I guess not liking the idea of being humiliated by a girl

You just took the pistol from your thigh holster and aimed it at them

“Are you bloody deaf? I told you to leave, so off you fuck!”

They didn’t move so you shot the cap off of one of their heads

“I’m giving you 3 seconds you fucking bastards and not a second more.”

They fled of course

“Christ almighty i need a whiskey.”

“I know just the place.”

After that you became fast friends and became super close.

You both go to the Garrison more than you care to admit.

Ada being surprised at how well you can hold your liquor

The only time you were both pissed out of your minds was on your 18th birthday and you just ended up walking around the streets giggling and singing at the top of your lungs.

You both couldn’t look at a bottle of vodka without gagging slightly

You’re the first person who Ada properly opens up to

She talks to you about her family and boy issues she has because she feels like nobody takes her problems seriously or would be willing to listen to her

“I get so worried about my brothers. I feel like there’s a part of me missing without them here. I’m worried that they might be killed over in France.”

“They won’t.”

“Howd you know”

“Because anyone who shares blood with you, Ada Shelby, would: a) never willingly leave someone they love alone and: b) would never go down without a bloody good fight.”

You always knew what to say to make her feel better again.

You both felt like you were each other’s sisters that they never had growing up.

Like you have sleepovers all the time

“If you expect the unexpected then doesn’t that technically mean that the unexpected is expected?”

“Y/N it’s 4am go to sleep!”

One time you’d woken up a bit earlier than Ada had and you were looking at her thinking

“Damn I’m so lucky to have her as my best friend!¡”

Then she rolled over in her sleep and smacked you in the face

The first time you met Polly you nearly shit yourself

Ada has gone to the bathroom, leaving you alone at the kitchen table

“And just who might you be?”

Polly was stood at the entry way, stern, cold look on her faceface, hand by her hip ready to grab a weapon if necessary.

“I’m- um, I’m”

“Bloody hell aunt pol put the gun down, if you must know this is Y/N she saved my arse from getting raped by an old bloke.”

“Let her speak for herself Ada”

“I’m Y/N, I scared an old guy off after he tried to feel her up in a back alley.”

“ScArEd hiM ofF, you shot the cap off of his head and they bolted.”

“Why did you do that, did you think if you scared a man off then the Shelby’s owed you a favour?”

“Nope my life is just a mess and I instinctively take care of other because I don’t know how to take care of myself.”

Polly was a lot more happy to have you around after she found out about what you risked to help her niece.

It started becoming a regular occurance to have you over for dinner or a cup of tea everyday.

You just sort of walked into the Shelby house now.

“Hey- Jesus, stop screaming for fucks sake. We’ve ran out of whiskey!”

You’re an honourary Shelby girl™️

Like you would willingly help out around the house.

Whether that’s cooking breakfast, tidying Finns room, or doing the laundry.

Always being there for Ada and being her biggest support

“Y/N I’ve done something bad. Really bad.”

“Put the corpse in ice, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“WhaT nO?! WhY wOulD I HavE a CoRpsE?”

Obviously being close to Ada meant you got close to Finn and he became a younger brother figure.

He comes to you for advice when he’s too embarrassed to go to his aunt and sister.

This family dynamic yoooooo

You began to help the Shelby ladies to run the betting shop.

You did all the numbers and you could read and write.

You also started to teach Finn how to read.

“What does that say Finn?”

“hoo-agh”

“nO”

If you get that reference then ily

You’d get dating advice from Polly too.

“Remember as ladies it’s all about being A-B-C. Always-Be-Classy”

“And a little bit slutty!”

“Ada’s right be a little bit slutty too.”

You’d help Polly look after John’s children on Sundays when she went to church

They seriously love you. They call you Aunt Y/N/N and they look forward to seeing you every weekend.

When the boys come home from France they found the family dynamic had shifted

They obviously weren’t the same after the shit they went through.

But Ada, Polly and Finn we’re happier than they’d ever seen them be

They were having a family meeting around the kitchen table

And you walked into the house as you normally did. carrying groceries

And as you walked into the kitchen

“Who the fuck are you?”

The shelby lads are aiming their guns right at you, ready to blow your head off.

You just looked at Ada, rolling your eyes, “What is it with your family and trying to shoot me on site?”

“They like to shoot first and ask questions later.”

“Aye I can bloody see.”

You just walked around to the kitchen counter and plopped the bags of shopping down.

Polly casually gave you a glass of whiskey which you downed.

“I’m sorry but who the fuck is this random girl standing in the middle of our kitchen drinking our whiskey?”

“Y/N Y/L/N, pleasure to meet you- I assume your Arthur judging by the attitude you’re giving me.”

Polly and Ada full on snorted

“And you must be John, you look just like Katie. The kids have told be a lot about you.”

“All good things I should hope.”

“Shit there were meant to be good things?”

Polly and Ada crying with laughter

“Boys this Y/N, my best friend, the person who did all the numbers for the shop while you were away, John’s kids’ babysitter, Finn’s teacher and honourary Shelby girl.”

Tommy is just in awe even if he hides it

“Welcome to the family Miss Y/L/N”

“You can call me Y/N”

Sexual tension

“GEt a RoOm!”

“Shut it Arthur”

After a few weeks the boys got used to seeing you around the house more.

Whether it was you sat at the table with Finn giving him advice on his spelling.

Or cooking dinner for John’s little ones on a Sunday (which meant you usually had at least one child on your hip)

Or even just lounging on the sofa in a heap with Ada while you gossiped.

Your qualification in nursing often came handy when one of the Shelby men would turn up battered

“That fucking hurt”

“Aye- you should have thought about this before you got into a fistfight.”

Out of all the Shelby’s it was of course Tommy that took the longest to start a full conversation with you

When it happened it wasn’t under the best circumstances

You went to the pictures on a date with a guy you had fancied for ages and the guy in question was snogging someone else- leaving you in the rain for an hour

You banged on the Shelby’s door looking like an absolute mess.

And Tommy opened the door

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do

Ada was not there *cough* at Freddie’s *cough*

And the house was empty apart from Finn, John’s kids and Polly (who was putting the children to bed)

So you just pushed past Tommy who was stood in the doorway dumbfounded

At this point you were shivering from the cold rain and the tears had stopped.

“Now what’s got you knocking on our door this late ‘ey Y/N.”

“Date went wrong, fucker stood me up.”

You were downing whiskey.

Tommy as much as he didn’t want to admit it hated seeing you upset and he knew you deserved better

It took a while for you to notice that Tommy had draped a blanket around your shoulders and had lit the fire to try and get you warmed up

“Forget the fucker. He don’t deserve a gal like you.”

“Thanks Tommy.”

In the morning Polly came down the stairs to find you and Tommy curled up on the sofa together.

She lowkey rooted for yous to get together

Honestly you found yourself constantly covering for Ada saying she was staying at your house when actually she was with Freddie

Because ur a great friend

“has anyone seen our Ada today?”

“Aye she slept at mine last night and we were up most of the night so I let her sleep in.” Definitely not at Freddie’s

“Up all night, that sounds kin-OW”

“If you must know Johnny boy- we were chatting shit about people- mainly you.”

“Uncalled for.”

“Why there’s so much to talk about?”

You were always involved in covering for Ada

Because your cared about her happiness- which was heavily influenced by her love life.

But actually Ada and Polly paid close attention to your love life too with Tommy

When you Polly and Ada were sat in the kitchen having a catchup- they raised the question.

“When are you going to realise that my brother’s in love with you?”

*que tea being spat out* WHAT

Polly just rolled her eyes and smiled, “dear Y/N, its almost obvious that Thomas is falling for you.”

“What the fuck?”

I think you may have been in a constant state of shock after that.

“We broke Y/N.”

Like you couldn’t quite pinpoint when you started to fall for Tommy

But Tommy definitely remembered the time he knew he was in love with you

You were in the kitchen, with John’s youngest child on your hip- making dinner for all the kids.

While Finn was sat at the table trying to read out bits of a book you’d lended him.

Tommy was stood in the entryway watching as Finn struggled to pronounce some of the harder words and you’d just wander over and explain how to do it.

Like to Tommy family is the most important thing in his life.

You’re not blood related but you still gave up your spare time to look after John’s kids, teach Finn to read or even just comfort Ada after a fight with Freddie.

And Tommy admires you for that- you sacrificed a lot in order to care for his family.

So he’s just leant on the doorframe, cigarette between his lips, watching as you got everything ready for dinner.

And he just thought “she’s gonna be my wife and mother to my children someday”

[maddestzoomer]

that photograph.

summary - 

a death, a photograph, and endless white walls.

warnings - 

mentions of death, also (not really sure if it counts considering he’s already dead lmao, but whatever) technically suicidal thoughts. 

authors note - 

i haven’t written for a while, but this is a story i recently found scribbled in my notebook from a few years back. i figured i’d edit some and post it here. feel free to give me any feedback you may have :) 

The last picture, dark and blurry, sat crammed in between two pages of his favorite book. It was a photo from the cross-country trip Billy had taken with his family last year.

The negatives were long gone, but one grainy picture remained. It had been there for almost a hundred years, long forgotten, but well protected within the lines of verse.

Billy had died on July fourth.

When it happened, it much more of a bigger deal than he thought it would be. He was nineteen, impaled multiple times by a fucking monster only to die in his sobbing sister's arms.  

But in the newspapers, it was nothing more than a freak accident. No-one knew how or why what happened happened, and just about everyone agreed it was strange, but there weren't any real answers supplied.

It was one of those awful things that no one expected and shouldn't have happened. It shouldn't have. He had done a lot of wrong in his short life, but maybe he didn't deserve to die.

People cried for him, sang for him, wished for things to have been different.

Billy was still dead. His ribs were broken, lungs were punctured, and his esophagus was filled with blood until he could no longer breathe. It wasn't short and it wasn't painless. But it didn't matter how he died.

It wasn’t a loss of life, persay- it was more of a transition. On to the next world, the new beyond.

The next world had started with a line. Hundreds of people waited in front of a single window. Surrounded by endless white walls and equally white floors, Billy had slowly made his way to the back.

Some people hugged their knees and sobbed. Some muttered and stared off into space. Some looked genuinely bored. One woman, a pretty brunette girl, had run up and down the line, frantically asking questions.

“Where am I?” She’d shrieked, hazel eyes wild with fear. “What happened?”

She had been met with shrugs and vacant stares. She was not the first, nor the last.

The line took ages. There was no way of telling time- it could’ve been a year or an hour. But when Billy had finally reached the window, he’d asked the question many screaming and terrified before him people had asked.

“Where am I?” He said to the woman behind the window, who had been busy typing something into an archaic computer system.

“You’re dead, honey.” She murmured, not looking up. “Billy Hargrove?” He’d nodded, not sure what else to do.

“Hand,” she’d instructed, holding out her own. Once he’d placed it in hers, she turned it over, palm facing down, and stamped the back.

It was a triangle, tiny and solid black. Billy’d looked back up to ask where he was, or where to go, or what was next, but the window was gone. So was the line when he turned around.

Instead, he was in a small room. White walls and a white bed stared back at him. A bookshelf sat in the corner. Next to it was a small, black desk with a lamp.

“Hello?” He’d asked to the walls. No one answered.

He’d found out later- hours later- that the door was unlocked. Outside, there was a single potted plant next to his door. He touched the leaves, breathing in the stale air. They were plastic.

Fluorescents reflected off of white walls as he walked down the hallway, searching for another soul.

There was a common room about fifty doors and three turns down from him. When he went out of the hallway on the other side, there was an identical hundred doors and common room. He sat down in a puffy chair, mind overwhelmed.

Emotion had left his body. He wanted to feel anything- scared, excited, nervous, lost, angry- but all he felt was empty. As empty as the rooms around him.

As time passed, he saw other faces. None he’d recognized. Initially, he’d hoped he would reunite with lost family members and friends, but it was quickly apparent that that would never happen. He would never find them.

He could talk, but no one was interested. Once you talked about your life and death, there was nothing really left to speak about but the uncertainty that plagued every soul in the place.

Where were they? What was next? Was this hell?

It wasn’t really hell as much as it was boredom. The bookshelf had every book you could ever want, and endless paper appeared on the desk. He tried to keep himself entertained, but the endless walls and fluorescents shot daggers into any creativity he could have mustered.

It turned out the bed wasn’t for sleeping- it was so he could lay down and stare at the perfectly white ceiling.

He did a lot of that. There was no food to eat, no shit to shit. He probably could have had sex, but finding other people was the last thing he wanted to do. He just wanted to be alone. To think about the life he could have lived. He just sat and stared, not knowing how or when or if time passed.

After re-reading a random book for the third time, Billy decided to try to kill himself. He wasn’t sure if it was possible, because he was already dead, but he could definitely try.

He’d begun to try to fashion a length of paper into a noose when fresh air caught his nose. It was bright, sweet, warm, and it danced into his brain, lighting up parts that hadn’t been touched since he’d died.

It was coming from under the door. Slowly, trying not to scare the hope away, he crept towards the door. The air was intoxicating- better than any vodka he could have bought when alive.

Emotions sprung to his chest for the first time since he’d gotten in line. Dry pine smoke and bird cries flew in on the air, bringing promises of a forest.

Was he hallucinating? Was it a dream? Had he finally killed himself? He touched the handle, fingers shaking. It was electrifying, the feelings that filled him. He felt alive again.

He opened the door to a forest, lit by softly flickering candles. Sobs echoed through the needles, carrying to his ears.

He saw his friends hugging one another. Saw Max silently sobbing into her hands, his Father staring drunkenly at the ground, and his Step-Mother, Susan, gently rubbing Max's back. Sitting on a table was a picture of him, smiling brightly with a surfboard at his side and an endless blue ocean behind him.

Billy had just walked into the anniversary of his death.

Being back in the real world filled him to the brim with long lost emotions.

Life danced within his eyes, as transparent as he was. He found out quickly that he couldn’t communicate or interact with anything- he could only watch.

And when he stared at his hands, he could see the fire-lit carpet of pine needles beneath him. He ached to speak to his mother (even though she wasn't to be found at the funeral...), to Max, to his friends, but even complete silence was better than the room.

Anything was better than the room, the four walls and the plastic plant guarding his door. Anything.

The worst thing in the world, even worse than the room, was having to return to it.

He felt the ground leave his feet as he was thrust back into the four walls, the life leaving his chest as quickly as it had come.

It felt like being socked in the stomach with the force of an entire lifetime. But worse, because he couldn’t cry about it. He couldn’t cry about anything.

Everything- the joy, sadness, nostalgia, content- left his body in a snap. He was left in the room again, with the hallway beyond the door.

He couldn’t even feel upset. He could just sit on the bed and wait.

He waited for another year, only living for the time that the forest would sneak in under his door.

Sometimes, he feared it would never come back, but there was nothing he could do. So he just waited. Re-reading books, walking the endless halls. There was something to look forwards to. He didn’t want to kill himself. He wanted to go back.

He continued going back for a decade, and then another. Slowly, the mourning of his death became smaller and less widespread as his parents died. His picture still existed in old family photos and friends’ diaries, but the memory of him slowly dropped existence.

Eventually, everyone he'd once known was death. Every year he went back it seemed another friend was gone.

Pictures kept getting lost or destroyed- thrown away by accident, or torn in broken picture frames.

Slowly, his descendants died, only to give way Max's great-great-grandson, Arthur, who had the last remaining picture of him.

It had been almost a hundred years since Billy had tried speaking with anyone connected to him. He’d never been able to find any of them within the long halls of the Place- but he seldom left his room, anyways.

The only time he stepped outside the door anymore was when he went back to earth, when he felt the grass beneath his feet and the sun in his hair.

Billy knew, from seeing his hallmates disappear, that when no pictures of him existed he’d never be allowed to go back to the real world. He’d also leave the Place, but no one knew what was in the Beyond.

Billy, when he could feel emotions, was terrified. The last picture of him sat in an ancient book of poetry, on a bookshelf in the attic of Arthur's house.

Max had kept the picture of Billy when he died, cried with it even when Billy had been gone fifty years. She had kept the book with her treasures, a ratty red book cover covered in dust. Almost no one had touched it since she'd died.

Arthur looked like Max. Skin full of freckles, head wild with red hair. The two even shared a similar smile.

Billy found himself following Arthur around when he could almost as much as he followed his own descendants, just to see how he lived his life.

Arthur was, unlike Max, incredibly forgetful. He’d leave his wallet on the counter or forget the dog was outside.

Watching Arthur was almost like watching his step-sister. Even though they were incredibly different, the two shared the same laugh and the same wit.

Then, one day, Arthur forgot to put out a candle when he went to bed.

He’d set them up for a date, but the boy he'd invited had stood him up.

Billy had wanted to comfort him, but he just sat on the couch and watched. After crying and eating almost an entire tub of ice cream, he’d blown out most of them and headed up to bed.

All except one.

One, hanging by the curtain, greedy flame licking at the fabric.

Billy stared at it. Watched as it grew, climbed up to the wall. There. It had to end there.

But it didn’t.

It grabbed the ceiling, expanding up and around the window. Billy glanced at the fire detector. Surely, it would go off?

It was silent. Another unlikely event. Billy was beginning to get nervous.

He tried to touch the fire, to stop it, but of course, his hands went straight through. He tried fanning the smoke to the detector. He grabbed for the phone, tried to shake Arthur awake.

Nothing was working.

Flames greedily ate up the living room and expanded to the upstairs, finally waking up Arthur.

Red hot pain suddenly lanced through his back, ripping a scream out of his mouth. He bucked as the pain forced its way into his mouth. It was similar to the pain he felt when that creature had impaled him.

His entire body felt like it was on fire, lines tracing and crossing over his skin. Billy arched his back, where the pain was concentrated, heat searing his skin. He screeched as if it would never end, because it felt like it never would.

It only got worse. His forehead erupted with slicing agony. Collapsing to the ground, he grabbed onto his blond curls as he screamed, wishing for death. But he was already dead? Dead twice? He was gone. Wishing it was over. Wishing he didn’t exist. Simply wishing.

As quickly as it had come, the pain left. He laid on the ground, softly gasping as his muscles unconstricted. Flinching at every sound, he waited for the agony to come back.

Minutes dripped by. It didn’t come back. He was sore, his body didn’t feel like his own. But he wasn’t being hurt.

Slowly, he stood. When he looked down at his hands, the black triangle had multiplied, spreading over his skin. His veins were black and pronounced over thick, corded muscle.

His tongue prodded his canine teeth, only to find they were long and sharp. Fangs. Billy had fangs. His fingers shook, fear pounding around his mind. He needed answers.

He tried to run his hands through his hair, but something stopped him. Big, bony horns curled out of his forehead. They were solid and sharp at the end, and he cut his finger as he ran it over.

A shard of glass on the floor caught his eye. He glanced at it slowly, scared at what he would see.

Dipping around the side of his back were wings, heavy and black. He reached back to feel them, wincing at the pain that started through his body. They felt leathery, cold.

Blood dripped to the floor from his cut finger.

By the door rested an iron pitchfork, tips covered in dried blood. He shuddered as he felt the very tips of his wings, now hyperaware, brush against the ground.

“Mr. Hargrove?” A voice called as the door creaked open.

Another demon, freakish and unworldly, stepped through the door. He was tall, powerful, with long black horns and a mane of thick, flowing hair.

A pencil rested behind his pointed ear, and he held a staff in his left hand.

Leaning against the stone wall, he looked Billy up and down.

“Where the fuck am I?” Billy asked, knowing full well what the answer was.

“Well, Mr. Hargrove,” the demon laughed, tapping a pencil against his equally pointy teeth.

“You’ve got a triangle on your hand. If you have a circle, you get to go up there,” he pointed to the ceiling, “and live in eternal peace.” He laughed, lip curling into a mocking snarl.

“Here, though, we are not brown nosers. We do not believe in total harmony. We wage war where we see fit, defend ourselves and those we love. We are honest about what we want. We have dignity, courage, and pride. “ The demon smiled, tossing his pitchfork to Billy. It glinted in the low light.

“Welcome to Hell.”

[alexthepartyman]

When I’m Saved (Part 1)

AN: This story is a loose and dramatised version based on a true event that happened to me. I have changed names and situations for privacy reasons. This will be a Tumblr and Ao3 exclusive fic. I hope you all enjoy laughing at how much of an idiot I am for getting into this situation.

“I’d like to thank you all for coming in on such brief notice, and I apologise for calling you all in this late.” Section Chief Mateo Cruz greets his tired team after the plane takes off. “You will notice, Dr Lewis is not here. She took a flight out to Peyton, Idaho to be the liaison for the La Byorteaux family. In the meantime, we have Dr Spencer Reid.” 

“What exactly is the situation?” Agent Prentiss asks. 

“Sixteen-year-old Dmitri La Byorteaux was reported missing from Disneyland at midnight, when the park closed. Park security and LAPD are still searching the park just in case he is still there. Dmitri was with his school group, the Peyton Panthers Marching Band and Colour Guard. The LAPD is taking copies of all of their records concerning Dmitri. The band directors are John Tremblay and Mark Wozniak, assistant leaders are Amy Tremblay, Jill Mellencamp, Nicholas Grace, Nicholas Vasquez, Lily Jones, and Arthur Wallace. There are parent chaperones, the one in charge of Dmitri is Ressa Kilburn,” the section chief explains.

“None of them know where he is or can get ahold of him?” Agent Jareau asks.

“No. These girls may know, though.” 

“Adelaide Parker, Tessa Anderson, Emily McClane, Imogen Wilkinson?” 

“His roommates. They were with him for every moment of the trip.” 

“Roommates? Why would they room a boy with four girls? That sounds very strange.” 

“Hello, crimefighters!” Ms Garcia cheerfully greets the team. “I’ve just been through Dmitri’s records that Mrs Mellencamp has provided. He didn’t have a seat buddy on the bus. He was in the back of the ‘orange’ bus, with Imogen and Emily in front of him. And Dmitri is on three medications, two anti-depressants and a thyroid hormone. He is also reportedly allergic to ibuprofen.” 

“Two anti-depressants?” 

“Yeah, fluoxetine and trazodone.” 

“Those two together can create an effect called serotonin syndrome, which is an excess in the hormone serotonin, which is known as the hormone that makes people happy. Symptoms can range from headaches and myoclonus to hyperthermia and a drastically increased heart rate,” Dr Reid says.

“Dmitri’s phone is most likely dead, because I can’t track it.” 

“Does he talk to anybody from the Los Angeles area?” 

“I spotted a few Los Angeles numbers in his contacts. One belongs to a Hussein College. Another is registered to a man named Diego Castro, and yet another is registered to a Jacob Freeman. I’m sending contact information to your mobiles.”

“Castro’s a forty-year-old drag queen. Has the physique to easily overpower Dmitri.”

“Freeman is six feet tall, twenty-one-years-old, also has the physique to overpower Dmitri easily. Do they know each other? Did either of them know Dmitri or each other before yesterday?”

“No. I don’t even think Diego and Jacob know each other now, but I...I just found a picture on Diego’s Instagram, it’s from yesterday, and both Dmitri and Tessa are in it. Diego’s the one hugging Dmitri, the other men are friends of his.” 

“That’s Tessa over there on the other side. And is Dmitri in a wheelchair?”

“Yeah, none of the band records mentioned a wheelchair or a mobility impairment, so let me just get ahold of Dmitri’s medical records…” Typing can be heard through the laptop. “Huh. There’s nothing for Dmitri. At all. Like, he doesn’t exist. I found a Rhys La Byorteaux, though, they have the same prescriptions, same hometown, same last name... same parents… the only thing different is that Rhys is a girl and Dmitri is a boy. They even have the same therapist.”

“Rhys and Dmitri sound like they’re the same person. When did Dmitri start existing?”

“Early 2017. That’s also when Rhys kind of started...not existing… yeah, they’re the same person, records from Dmitri’s clinic show Rhys is a legal name and that he is biologically female, but he is seeking treatment for gender dysphoria and uses the name Dmitri.”

“Oh... he’s transgender? Why weren’t we told of that?” Agent Jareau asks. “I feel like that would be important information to know.”

“I don’t know, but we’re still calling him Dmitri, right?”

“We should, to avoid confusion. How common is that last name?”

“Not very, sir, the only other people I’m finding in America with that last name are the acting brothers and Dmitri’s family... there is a birth certificate for a Luke La Byorteaux, born to Nathaniel La Byorteaux and a Maria Alvez, but I can’t find anything for Luke past 1989.” Agent Alvez looks to the laptop with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Did you just say Maria Alvez?” 

“Yeah, she also kind of went missing, too.” 

“Garcia. Focus on Dmitri.”

“Got it. Dmitri’s medical records look relatively normal until the age of three, then after that, it looks like he’s a frequent flyer in the medical field. He was born relatively healthy for being induced three weeks early, except for the part where his father, Nathaniel La Byorteaux, was removed from the delivery room for protesting when the doctor threw the baby at mother Eva Kelly’s chest, and also for refusing doctors access to newborn Dmitri, who was born anemic.” 

“What kind of father refuses treatment for his newborn child?” Agent Simmons asks. “What started happening when Dmitri turned three?”

“A lot of appointments with specialty doctors, peppered in with ER visits. They referred Dmitri out to an audiologist based on concerns of multiple ear infections and being deaf. They found out he wasn’t deaf by scanning his brain waves when the regular test didn’t work out, and he was developmentally delayed, put in preschool at three, the youngest in his class. He ate a penny, went to the ER to have it pumped out, that’s like the one relatively normal thing that happened to him. Eva Kelly and Nathaniel La Byorteaux voiced many concerns about Dmitri’s never-ending ear infections and the strep throat that he would get constantly, and the frequent nosebleeds that happened nearly daily. He was admitted to the ER many times, covered in bruises from head to toe, bleeding profusely, dangerously high fevers, and they rushed him from the hospital in Ontario, Oregon to Boise, Idaho. CPS was called over concerns of Nathaniel abusing Dmitri, but charges were dismissed once Eva explained that Nathaniel wouldn’t actually beat Dmitri if he didn’t wake up, that was just how Nathaniel woke him up.” 

“What? Nathaniel threatened to beat up Dmitri?”

“Yeah, I wish that was a joke. All of the tests came back that there were no platelets in Dmitri’s system. Anywhere. Zilch. He was given three bags of immunoglobulin and carefully monitored after that. Doctors determined that the only explanation could have been this rare disease called ITP, or-”

“Immune Thrombocytopenic Purpura. The body mistakenly attacks and destroys platelets in the body, which are fragments of cells that help clot the blood when the body is wounded. It usually starts in children after a viral disease, and it usually resolves itself with no need for treatment.” 

“Yes, Good Doctor. Dmitri’s condition was closely monitored after that, and then shortly after his fifth birthday, he was diagnosed with autism by a specialist in Salt Lake City, Utah. He went to the MayoClinic in Phoenix, Arizona for a month to have a splenectomy, and then that August, he and his brother Roger Kelly were nearly killed in a single-car rollover, and more blood bags were needed, both sustained concussions. Dmitri was admitted to the ER again later that month after he reportedly fell from the shelves in his closet during the night, that’s a concussion, and then again after he tipped over one of those old-person motor scooters onto himself, but miraculously, all he had was road rash and a bunch of scratches.” 

“What? Where did he get a motorised scooter?”

“His dad apparently got it after breaking his knee on his stepson, Robert’s trick bike, when he collided with the garden gnome. Robert also split his chin open and had to get five stitches. Again, the garden gnome. No, I’m not making any of this up. Let’s see...no hospital activity until Dmitri got his tonsils removed at age nine, apparently that was the reason he got strep throat five times a year. He went through urgent care all the time for weird accidents, like one time, his face swelled up to the size of a grapefruit because of misusing acne wipes. He went through urgent care at fourteen for a concussion, was sent home, no further testing was done... and then two months later, he was admitted to the ER for a major concussion, tests showed no brain bleeding, he was sent home to recover from it, when to the ER three months ago because he had bled out during a panic attack...He didn’t go to the ER again until three weeks ago, and yeah.”

“How does he behave in school?”

“Uh...Dmitri is mayhem incarnate, constant behaviour issues. He’s noted to be moody, fidgety, stubborn. Quite closed off from his peers, distracted, impulsive. He does his work super fast and is noted to be quite intelligent but breaks the rules. He is known to be very messy, and he is regularly known to be very goofy, often covered in markers and other things.. He argues with teachers a lot, has his phone confiscated a lot, violates dress code a lot, has been involved in weird incidents, has a very filthy mouth, serves a lot of detention for being late, a lot.” 

“He’s a rule breaker. You think he left on purpose?”

“He doesn’t look like he can in that wheelchair. It looks like a park rental. Garcia, check into that wheelchair thing. And check Dmitri’s social media. His emails and text messages, too.” 

“On it. I’m going to update Tara.” The blonde woman ends the call, and the screen returns to a navy blue background. 

“I’m going to call LAPD, tell them Dmitri has less time than we thought,” Chief Cruz says, pulling out his cell phone and stepping towards another section of the plane. 

“How do you bleed out from a panic attack?” Agent Rossi asks. “Kid has got talents.”

“That entire family has talents. A garden gnome?”

“Less talk about the freak garden gnome accident, more trying to find Dmitri. He couldn’t have gotten far if he needed a wheelchair, so someone would have had to carry him out if he got far.” 

“We have to figure out why he was in the wheelchair.” 

“He had a concussion three weeks ago that went mostly untreated, he’s probably still showing symptoms, and he may have developed physical coordination issues rendering him temporarily unable to walk. He may also be extremely dizzy, or his limbs may be extremely weak,” Dr Reid explains. 

“Someone would have had to take him. We should track down Diego Castro and Jacob Freeman, see what they know.” 

“The girls would definitely know what happened to him. We have to talk to them. We should also talk to the chaperones that would know Dmitri the best, starting with John and Amy Tremblay.”

[braveskyered]

Knights (Part 10)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Even experienced parents will have trouble raising a new baby.

Part 10: Why Is It That Everything Seems Beautiful

- - - - - - -

Three days after Arthur and Elaine had their third child, the family celebration of Vivian's birth went along fine for the most part. Vivienne had her chance of holding her new great-granddaughter. Vivienne's age is starting to get the better of her, so she often stays in her home attached to Four of a Kind Queens as a result. Once that was done, Arthur and Elaine took their newborn daughter to the next family reunion with the latter's immediate family to introduce her. She was carefully passed over between Elaine parents and aunt, then to her cousin Eleanor and her husband Nicholas.

Soon Gwen and Percy stared at their new sister with curiosity, wonder, fear, and joy all at the same time. They each took turns holding their new little sister, and Arthur couldn’t help but subtly take a few pictures of his three children with his phone to hold close to his heart. He now has not two, but three reasons to keep living.

After the reunion, when the now family of five returned home. It was getting rather late, and with Vivian now asleep, it was decided that they should all turn in for the night soon. Gwen and Percy soon went to bed, and Arthur and Elaine went into their bedroom to put their newborn daughter into her crib before turning in themselves.

Unfortunately, as Arthur knew and feared, he started to have nightmares of the wraith wanting to take his newborn daughter away after failing to take the twins. He has no idea what would happen if the wraith did successfully take any of the three children, but he knew he didn’t want to find out. Gwen and Percy are capable of handling themselves even though they’re only eleven, but with Vivian being a three-day-old baby so far, she’s as defenseless as one could get. When he woke up from the first nightmare, he could barely remember it as he heard Vivian cry.

It was agreed that since Elaine had just gone through childbirth, Arthur was usually to be the one to handle the baby for the first few days to let her rest, only to get her if Vivian happened to be hungry and wouldn’t take a bottle Elaine prepared.

Arthur got out from the bed, attached his arm, and gently picked up the tiny crying newborn from the crib. Vivian’s crying quieted down immediately, which meant that she only wanted to be held. He knew that Vivian could recognize Elaine as her mother, but he isn’t exactly sure if she could recognize him as her father. Regardless, he used his usual technique, holding her close to his chest to let her hear his heartbeat, and humming the lullaby he used back when Gwen and Percy were babies.

It still made his heart ache.

♪

This time I might just disappear…

Whoa-o-o-oh

This time I might just dis-

Oh mo mo mo mo

Oh mo mo mo mo (Oh yeah)

Oh mo moo mo mo oh

♪

Arthur felt Vivian nuzzle her head against his chest, her cries being reduced to quiet whimpers. He nudged one of her tiny hands with a finger, and smiled a little when her finger wrapped around it.

He walked out of their bedroom and went downstairs to go into his current work and study room. He’s aware that he can’t do much since he’s holding his newborn daughter, but looking over Gwen and Percy’s homework or something akin to it shouldn’t hurt. He made a small bassinet to keep in there next to his desk before Vivian was born, so he can always keep an eye on his newborn daughter while working. He also needed time to calm down from his nightmare, even though he can’t remember much from it now.

Upon seeing Vivian go back to sleep, Arthur set her in the bassinet and went to his desk. The twins occasionally leave their math and science homework for him to look over, and upon seeing the two worksheets, saw that they both had their questions correct.

Arthur gave a breath of amusement while feeling proud of the twins, for it’s not every day a father gets to see his children skip not one, but two grades to where they can be properly challenged in their current Eighth grade class. He felt even more proud when the two decided to join their middle school robotics club, which allowed him and the twins to truly connect with one another. Once they graduate to high school next year, Arthur knew that they’ll probably dominate the robotics club there, too.

He looked to his right where a lone table stands, and smiled upon seeing the half-complete project the twins are steadily working on in secret at first before he discovered it by accident just last week.

- - - - - - -

Arthur came home from his temporary job later than usual as a teaching assistant for the robotics program at the Cantabile Institute of Technology. The main instructor, Mr. Robert Cromwell, had to suddenly leave early today to handle a sudden family emergency, leaving Arthur with a request to watch over the class until it was over. He usually didn’t like being the center of attention, but he still helped the students by giving them feedback on their projects, correcting their prints on their software, and just encouraging them to work hard and strive to be better.

To his dismay, however, he still had his fear of crowds, although he is slowly improving.

The main instructor, the man who hired him, was very understanding once he learned of this. Because his class only had around thirty students for the semester, he had split it into two classes with fifteen students divided among them so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed. During the official lab times, Arthur would help the students with either the projects themselves or answer questions regarding their written homework. The students, in turn, remained professional for the most part, especially once they learned that they actually liked Arthur as a fellow robotics enthusiast.

The only reason Arthur took the job is that not only did it give him access to more reliable equipment when working on robotics, it paid well, allowing him to earn some extra money on preparing for his third child, who’s due to come any day now.

He briefly wondered what would’ve happened if he had taken this as his career route before everything went wrong, then shoved the thought aside. He long decided to discard the thoughts about the “woulda-coulda-shoulda” as that one quote he can’t remember someone saying. He managed to do the “one little did” from the same quote by leaving Tempo, and will keep doing it until he can live without any fear.

Arthur is healing, and will keep healing until he is ready to completely move on.

He wondered what Elaine made for dinner, then shrugged the thought off that if by some chance she didn’t, then there’s always leftovers he could always eat. Assuming the twins haven’t eaten them, that is, then he’ll have to scrounge. Taking the keys out of his pocket, he unlocked the door and went inside and announced his presence with a hello.

Almost immediately, he heard something fall and the twins yelping in surprise and frustration. Setting his bag down, Arthur quickly went upstairs and heard the twins who seemed to be arguing amongst themselves within Percy’s room. He peeked into the doorway to see if either of them are hurt.

“Daddy!” “Dad!”

Gwen immediately threw a white bed sheet over what seemed to be yet another science project, but it didn’t cover it completely, which Percy tried to correct.

“W-W-What are you doing, Dad?! You’re supposed to knock!”

“…Your door was already open, Percy,” Arthur slowly pointed out with a raised brow before turning his attention to the poorly hidden project, “What are you making this time? Do you need me to give you feedba…” He trailed off as he could make out the long and thin shape hidden beneath the sheet, and noticed what seemed to be smaller appendages barely poking out. Was that an–?

“A-Anyway, Daddy,” Gwen started to shove some of her tools aside while glancing at the sheet hiding their latest project, “How was work at the uni… uni…”

“‘University’?” Arthur finished for her, “It’s all right. There’s these two students that are always hard on themselves whenever things don’t work out the way they should.” Wait a minute. They’re trying to switch the topic on him! He quickly reached out and grabbed at the sheet before the twins could protest, “So what are you–”

Upon seeing what was beneath, Arthur went silent.

Although it looks half complete due to the many wires that were strewn about, he immediately recognized it as a robotic arm. Gwen and Percy were trying to make a prosthetic all by themselves? At their age?

He looked at his son and daughter, both of whom were looking away nervously. What has them so uptight? He looked around, and nearby he saw what seemed to be a blueprint. He picked it up, and upon examining it, he quickly realized that it’s a blueprint for a previous model of his arm that he made a few years back. Hadn’t it gone missing about two weeks ago?

He looked up and saw the twins give each other a nervous glance before looking at him.

“Gwen. Percy. Why hide this?” Arthur held out the blueprint to them, confused about their behavior, “You’ve had me look at all your other projects. Why would you hide this one from me?”

The twins looked at each other before Percy decided to speak up.

“You never liked talking about your arm.”

Arthur went still before looking down at his left arm, made from metal, wires, and other material that isn’t flesh, blood, and bone.

He still remembered the day he still had it, healthy and whole. Remembered the time the demon took hold. Remembered the time it shoved Lewis to his death while feeling the fabric of his friend’s vest. Remembered the feeling of the kitsune’s fangs sinking down to break the flesh and bone before it was ripped away from him, spilling blood. Remembered being unable to remember why his arm was lost. Remembered trying to take a grip at the wraith’s sleeve in desperation as he was held by his shirt from a cliff while dangling over the stalagmites.

Remembered the falling.

After he was dropped when the wraith let go, after he and the others had learned the truth, the arm had taken a whole new meaning. People would stare at his prosthetic, whether to rarely marvel or gawk at in disgust like the wraith did. He became recognizable, people would know him as the mechanic who lost an arm to an animal attack to the general public, or as an unfortunate victim of a possession while giving the feeling that he should have fought it off to the ones who really knew the truth.

Remembered his arm breaking.

He couldn’t bear the guilt weighing him down and the prejudices he perceived. The stares that the Yukino family and the Peppers have given him when they saw him and his arm. The suppression he felt was too great for him to handle, the tears threatening to fall every time. The wishes that said he should have died, instead.

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry

He curled his fingers around his left wrist, feeling the fabric of his wristband while trying to ignore the fleshy feel of the prosthetic. The fake flesh cover that Elaine made with Eleanor’s help is what saved him when he first arrived in Cantabile. It made him look normal. It made it easier to hide. Still, he didn’t like to look at his left arm unless it needed maintenance.

But the fact that the twins noticed that, is…

“You don’t need to worry about that, you two,” Arthur smiled as he waved his left arm in a dismissive gesture, “It’s true that this thing has a lot of bad memories, but you making an arm won’t bother me. I’m proud, actually. So…” he looked at the partially built arm in more detail, “I see some parts are different, what’s up with these?”

The twins jumped slightly upon Arthur asking, looked at each other, then Gwen shrugged before picking up a notebook to show him a page, “Well, we saw a video on YouTube where it has a prosthetic arm with the ability to feel things. You know, like, touch things? You know, if it’s hot or cold? We’re trying to re… rep… rep– copy that.”

“You’re trying to replicate it?”

“Yeah, Dad, that. Problem is, the one on the video is too heavy for an amputee to use, so we’re trying to make one that’s lighter,” Percy, who finally relaxed, pointed at the arm’s metal parts, “We’re trying to find pieces to remove or replace with lighter parts to reduce the weight. We thought about using one of your prints as a base, and if we succeeded, we could get accepted at that school you’re working at now…” The boy trailed off as he looked at his father’s arm.

A feeling of relief and happiness filled his entire being. Oh, how Arthur loved his children, always trying so hard to make him proud. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so moved, knowing that these two strive for their goals, for both themselves and him.

Still, they’re only eleven. They’re still young, and the young ones will always need guidance.

“I think I’ve got a few suggestions on how to do that.”

- - - - - - -

The sound of Vivian crying pulled Arthur out from the happy memory. Smiling a little, he got off from his desk chair to lift her from the bassinet. Looking at the clock, he saw that it was about time for Vivian to have one of her feedings. Well, good thing Elaine prepared Vivian’s food ahead of time in the refrigerator. With the goal of feeding Vivian in mind, he went to the kitchen to heat up the milk.

He recalled Elaine making a scene once back when the twins were babies where she loudly thanked the heavens for breast pumps. In public. While in a restaurant. Caelia and Morgan were laughing while Arthur just focused on giving Gwen her bottle. Nope, I don’t know her for the next thirty minutes.

After feeding and changing his newborn daughter, Arthur went back to the bedroom and saw that Elaine is still asleep. A good thing, since he knew that she still felt sore from childbirth and needed all the time she could get to recover. He then read the clock and saw that’s it’s a little past four in the morning.

His lips tugged into a thin line, he knew he needed to go back to bed soon. He has work tomorrow morning at the university, and he needed to be there by ten if the main instructor doesn’t come back. He knew that Elaine will start taking care of Vivian once her alarm goes off at six, so maybe he can leave the next time their daughter needs care to her.

Arthur soon went back to focus on the task at hand, and placed the now sleeping Vivian back in her crib. He then took off his arm, crawled into his side of the bed beside Elaine and went to sleep, dreading the next nightmare or memory he knew he will have.

The next time Arthur woke up, to his relief, he couldn’t recall dreaming anything. Looking at the alarm clock next to him, he saw that the time read seven forty-five in the morning. He pressed a button on the clock to check the alarm time itself, and saw that it was set to go off at eight. He normally has the alarm set at seven fifteen. Which meant that Elaine modified his alarm again.

He slowly sat up as he let out a breath of mixed amusement and exasperation. Elaine did this back when Gwen and Percy were babies, primarily to have him sleep as much as he could. She knew about his nightmares, and thus knew about his tendency of being up late at night. As soon as Elaine confirmed Arthur’s schedule, she would modify his alarm clock. At first, it was by ten minutes, and soon it became more than that. From what he noticed, she never modified the alarm to exceed the original time by one hour.

He saw that Elaine isn’t in bed, meaning that the former is up and about. He soon heard his daughter crying, and he went to check on her after reattaching his arm. He noticed something long and black in color that looked like another blanket at first glance, but didn’t pay attention to it as he picked up Vivian from her crib. Upon noticing that the black material has followed the baby girl’s movement, he went still.

Had this been the time back when Gwen and Percy were newborns, Arthur would have freaked out and screamed or somewhere among those lines. Now, after knowing what exactly goes on in the Knights family bloodline, he could only just stare.

Vivian’s hair… should not be longer than her tiny body.

Yet here she is with a full head of long hair at four days old, now cooing at Arthur with her gummy mouth open without realizing the oddity she has.

What… is this?

He quickly decided to take her to Elaine. If there’s anyone who would have an idea on what’s going on, it’s her.

…

Whoever said that raising a baby can be difficult at times had it right, and Arthur knew that for a fact. However…

“Oh, no, Vivian! Mom, what do we do?!”

“Dad! Vivian’s vanished again!”

…they probably didn’t account for said baby to have powers.

Remember the part that said the women born in the Knights family typically have their powers awaken and emerge at around the age of ten years? The three children from Arthur and Elaine have broken that expectation in three ways. The first being that the twins’ powers came to be at seven years of age; the second being Percy even having the power at all, which is an oddity since he is the only male born in the family bloodline in over ten generations. The third being that…

“WHAT THE DID SHE JUST POOF INTO SMOKE?!”

…their third child having her power awaken four days after her birth.

Arthur could only just stare incredulously upon seeing the aftermath, the chaos happening as quickly as it came.

It was just so sudden, while Elaine was examining Vivian on the kitchen counter (“Her hair wasn’t like this when I nursed her about an hour ago…”), the baby just turned into smoke and disappeared, leaving her blanket sleeper and even her diaper behind, which then instilled a panic amongst the family members to find out where Vivian went.

At first, Elaine simply cut Vivian’s hair with a pair of scissors, but it would almost instantly grow back to it’s original long length. She then tried to to braid the hair, but it quickly became undone on its own. After the third attempt at getting Vivian’s hair either under control or at a manageable length, the baby girl started disappearing and reappearing while wailing, thus leading to the chaos just earlier.

Arthur, who distanced himself from Elaine to give her space while looking over some blueprint modifications that Gwen and Percy had made for their next science project, could only stare numbly at the four-day-old baby girl, lying on the kitchen table in front of him on her back with her hair partially covering her, her hair still longer than she is tall. Vivian’s arms twitched, as if trying to reach out to him. Arthur slowly blinked and put his pencil down.

He tried to process what the hell just happened.

As soon as Vivian started crying again, she started to float upward. On reflex, Arthur immediately grabbed her and wrapped her in a spare blanket he had nearby while minding her hair, calming her almost immediately. Elaine running to his side and taking their child into her hold.

“Uh, okay,” Elaine flustered, “So, baby disappears into smoke, teleports, and floats. And has hair with a stubborn streak. That’s a new one.”

Percy stared at Vivian with an incredulous look, “How did–?”

“Smoke appeared. Took her shape. And bam. Vivian,” Arthur shrugged, “I’m not sure what just happened, but it wasn’t any of you, was it?”

“No,” Gwen said as if the answer was obvious, “I can only make ice and just started being able to turn into a wolf. I can’t teleport.”

“It wasn’t me,” Percy rolled his eyes, “I can only turn into a fox and make fire. I just started figuring out how to travel from one TV screen to another.”

Gwen sighed, “I need to figure out how to do that…”

Arthur rubbed Vivian’s long hair against two of his fingers, noticing that it feels like real hair. It looked to be about a meter long. What kind of yokai would have long hair again? He would think Vivian might be an onyro, but last he checked, an onryo isn’t exactly a yokai, right…?

“You know,” Elaine said with exasperation, “I should probably be happy that she didn’t get this long hair of hers while I was pregnant with her. I don’t know if it’s true, but I probably would’ve had the worst heartburn. …Or the reactions from the hospital staff, which would’ve been worse.”

“So what do we do, Mom?” Gwen asked.

“Charm and hex her?” Percy suggested half joking, half serious.

“Maybe, I’ll just have to take her to Mom and Mama Vivienne and see if either of them might have some ideas. I’ll have to see if Nana Niniane is still around, since she’s usually traveling at this time of year.”

Elaine looked unsure, but she’s showing more confidence than Arthur is, so he’s not complaining.

“Arthur, you should get going to the university soon or you’ll be late,” Elaine nodded to him, “We’ll take care of everything here. I’ll see you later tonight, okay?”

- - - - - - -

“I swear, Arthur, ever since you became a part of this family, it’s one thing after another. First you father a set of twins, one being a boy, then their power awakens at age seven instead of ten. And now you father a child whose power awakened in her infancy who’s not even a week old yet, which is unprecedented in and of itself,” Niniane started sewing patches of some sort onto Vivian’s clothes, “Are you from some kind of ancient and powerful bloodline or something?”

Arthur isn’t sure what to think of that. If he is, then no one told him, nor does he care about it. All he cared about is Vivian’s safety, because since she’s still a baby, her power can be dangerous to herself and others if not properly controlled.

In response to this, Niniane and Vivienne started sewing various charms on Vivian’s clothes so that way the next time she vanishes, it’ll take her clothes with her and “not appear naked on a table again,” as Niniane puts it. Morgan and Caelia went through the trouble of placing multiple wards around Arthur and Elaine’s home to keep Vivian from disappearing to places that lead to outside the house.

In response to this, Niniane and Vivienne started sewing various charms on Vivian’s clothes so that way the next time she vanishes, it’ll take her clothes with her and “not appear naked on a table again,” as Niniane puts it. Morgan and Caelia went through the trouble of placing multiple wards around Arthur and Elaine’s home to keep Vivian from disappearing to places that take her outside the house.

This, however, created a new problem. With so many protections around the house, Arthur’s prosthetic arm would act up every now and then. The magic would prevent the electric signals from going through his arm. Without the full function of his prosthetic, it prevented Arthur from being able to do the more complex tasks, and even prevented him from being able to properly hold Vivian, much to his dismay.

Still, it was a necessary drawback. He either temporarily loses the complete use of his left arm, or risk Vivian accidentally teleporting outside the house where she could get herself hurt with no one around to help her.

Every once in a while, though, Arthur hated being the powerless one in the family. He once told Elaine this once they managed to figure out a system on how to properly care for their new baby.

“Of course you have a power, Arthur!” Elaine exclaimed, incredulous, “Your power is being my amazing husband and an amazing father to our kids! And Vivian’s almost always calm when she’s with you. You have…” Elaine made a show of fanning her hands and then made a show of spreading them apart, “Dad Powers.”

“What.”

However, the loving words from Elaine, the hugs from Gwen and Percy, and the smiles and giggles from Vivian more than make up for it.

There were still many obstacles to overcome when raising their youngest child, but thankfully, Arthur and Elaine managed with the help from Elaine’s immediate family, and the twins were willing to put their weight in it, too. As Vivian grew, the baby girl started to grasp her abilities more clearly, and soon she was able to stop teleporting around once she reached eight months of age. After that, some of the protections were removed, and it allowed Arthur to be able to regain full use of his left arm again, much to his relief.

Soon after Arthur regained the use of his prosthetic, he noticed that his life is gradually improving, for better or for worse, he thinks.

Although he was unable to obtain a full time instructor position at the Cantabile Institute of Technology since he still works at Four of a Kind Queens, he managed to get a proper position as a part time instructor complete with a raise in pay, where he teaches robotics. The job has him to work three days a week from nine in the morning to five in the evening, allowing him to be able to still spend the evening with his family. A good thing, since Vivian tends to get cranky if she doesn’t see him in the evening.

Four of a Kind Queens has been having an increase in business, which allowed more money to flow in. This in turn gave Caelia and Morgan the opportunity to remodel Vivienne’s home that’s attached to the shop. A small elevator was added in the foyer, and the bathroom facilities were modified to allow the place to be more mobile friendly since the old matriarch is nearing her nineties. Because she can only walk short distances now, Vivienne became wheelchair bound most of the time.

One day when Arthur was at work at the university, he overheard some students talking about a band that is coming out of retirement after ten years. Arthur took the time to read an online article about it and saw that the band in question is MS Dubuc, an old band that Vivi and Lewis were big fans of. Vivi loved the band so much that she even named the Mystery Skulls after one of the band’s songs of the same name. Arthur didn’t consider himself a huge fan to that extent, but he did enjoy some of the band’s music. His personal favorite being “Every Note” and “Together.” When he told Elaine, Gwen, and Percy about the band, they came to like the music, too, enough to where the twins even wanted to go to the concert that marks their return.

What surprised Elaine and the twins, though, is that the band is only run by one person. If Arthur remembered right, it was Alberto Rodgers or something like that. From the looks of it, the man behind the band retired to spend time with his wife and family, and came back upon his wife’s insistence. The identities of his “secret” wife and other family members weren’t revealed, but that isn’t Arthur’s concern.

Gwen and Percy were gradually able to fine tune their powers, allowing them to utilize their skills safely without the risk of harming anyone. Arthur felt that it was good timing, because Vivian started teething, and whenever they run out of rice rusks (“How are we going through so many?!” Elaine exclaims.), Gwen started to hand her baby sister clear ice spheres for her to gnaw on, and would soon make little ice pops out of fruit juice to give her new things to taste. Percy hasn’t been able to find things to entertain Vivian with his fire power yet, but giving her rides as a kitsune would work in the meantime.

Of course, Arthur now has to deal with the occasional spat between Gwen and Percy on who gives Vivian rides when she wants them.

- - - - - - -

Arthur somewhat dreaded for this day.

“Hold on, you two, it looks like there’s a trap up ahead to your left. Can you see it?”

“Uh… The wall over here does look a little different compared to the rest of this room,” Gwen said, “I don’t see anything else that seems strange.”

“Maybe it’s motion sensored?” Percy suggested.

Back when Arthur first met Elaine, not counting her distant cousins such as Melia, she and her cousin Eleanor were the latest members of the Knights family. For the Knights, as Arthur long knew by now, their duty is to handle the more malicious side of the paranormal, and fight actual monsters. When the twins were born, he knew that they would eventually take up the duty as well. Or at least Gwen would have to, since it wasn’t known if Percy would have any powers at the time.

And now, with the twins being twelve years old, Elaine decided to take the twins on their first solo excursion to start their training. She meant to take the twins shortly after she recovered from Vivian’s birth, but the premature awakening of the baby’s own powers threw a wrench in that plan. Thankfully, now that Vivian is a year old now, her powers have gradually stabilized. The baby’s hair is still longer than her body, and she still teleports around every now and then, but only for very short distances.

(He noticed a few months back that Vivian would only teleport whenever she wanted to be with her daddy, much to his inner joy. It was so amusing that he decided he’ll let the rest of the family figure it out for themselves.)

It was a simple job in Largo, Florida, according to Elaine. There weren’t any disappearances, just some strange occurrences at a cave close to a school that was abandoned due to lack of funding. Lights randomly appearing and disappearing, the one time sound of a screeching woman, and the occasional sound of a dog. It was originally investigated by the local police when their client, a local man, first reported it, but they didn’t find anything telling. Eventually, their client had heard about the Knights family from a distant acquaintance, and hired the family to investigate the area.

* * *

“I saw someone enter the cave, but I didn’t see anyone come out and heard a woman screaming before it went silent. I reported it to the police and have them check it, but they didn’t find anything, and no one had been reported missing for the past three days. Also, they refused to investigate further because they’re busy trying to stop a drug ring or something according to my friends. Will you look into it? If we don’t do something, who knows what will happen?”

* * *

It is strange that only one man is concerned, but he did pay them to investigate. To Arthur, the least he can do with his family is find out what exactly is happening to give the man a peace of mind.

…He just hoped it wasn’t a demon.

Although Arthur feared for Gwen and Percy’s safety, he knew that with him in the van navigating for them, and with Elaine watching over the twins going through their first time exploring a paranormal assignment solo with her watching from the shadows, things should be fine.

“Let’s see, if I press this part of the wall here, it migh– AUGH WHY ARE THERE ARROWS?!”

Or maybe not.

“Gwen, Percy, you know I can only detect hidden things in a vague fashion with my radar. Also, I can only see whatever is on your cameras, so I wouldn’t have been able to know what exactly that trap is.”

“I noticed,” his son grouched, “Whatever, we got it disarmed.”

“More like you made it run out of ammo, Percy,” his daughter commented.

“I’d be more concerned if it activated a silent alarm,” he rose a brow, “Well, anyway. I don’t see anything else out of the ordinary. What’s your status, Elaine?”

“I’m fine. Someone’s definitely using this place as base, though, judging from the footprints and some trash found here. We may have to get the police involved if we find anything illegal.”

Arthur rose a brow and glanced at Vivian, who is asleep in the small custom made bed next to him in the van. He isn’t sure what to think about Elaine’s comment. Is she serious? One would think the that shot arrow aimed to kill was enough to want to call them.

“But seriously, jokes aside, we’re definitely getting police involved after this,” Elaine declared, “These traps are recent, and if a civilian entered this cave, they probably would’ve been killed, which can pretty much lead to murder.”

Arthur sighed, not bothering to argue with an amused smile. From the looks of it, the cave is being used by a person, and rigged it with traps to keep people from getting out. But that meant that whoever is using the cave, he or she has something to hide. What exactly, he doesn’t know.

“Hey… do you guys smell something?” Gwen asked as the screen with her icon shift downward suddenly, which Arthur realized is her shifting into a wolf, the sound of her sniffing the ground was picked up then, “Oh geez! What the heck is this?!”

He saw Percy’s screen shift downward as well, no doubt for Percy to smell it too as a fox/kitsune, “Ugh…! She’s right, it reeks! I can’t tell if it’s like a cleaner, or what! …Dad? I don’t feel so good.”

“Me, too… My head’s spinning…”

That’s concerning. Right as Arthur was about to say something, he heard Elaine give the twins the command head back to the cave entrance, then saw the icon marking Elaine’s position on the map sprint ahead. He turned to Elaine’s screen and saw her moving further ahead.

“Trap ahead.”

“I see it. The smell is getting even to me, so there’s no way I’m not letting them go through that without protection.”

“What about you, Elaine? Do you even have a respirator?”

“I have one that mainly stops dust from getting into my lungs. It won’t stop the smell of whatever this crap is, though. Just let me know when the kids return to you. I’m considering their training to be done for today.”

Arthur gave his word to Elaine, and within the next fifteen minutes, the twins returned to him by climbing into the van’s side door in their human forms. Once they were all safe inside, Arthur excused himself from Elaine to take a moment to hug his two children.

“Are you two okay?” He whispered, mindful of Vivian.

“I feel better now that I’ve had fresh air,” Gwen grumbled as she hugged him back, “I don’t wanna smell that again.”

“You’ve got that right,” Percy also returned the gesture of affection, “How’s Vivian, Dad?”

“Amazingly, she’s still asleep,” Arthur turned to the baby girl, who is still asleep in the small bed, “I didn’t have any trouble handling her at all while I was here.”

“Whenever any of us hold her, she always cries,” Percy sighed, “I don’t know how you do it.”

“You two were like that when you were babies, you know,” Arthur chuckled as he went to check on the little one, “You two almost always cried when Elaine or anyone else held you, so I had my hands full with the two of you. If it hadn’t been for your grandmother and Vivienne, I probably wouldn’t even have a moment’s peace or get anything done at Queens. Well, then again, you didn’t have your power at infancy, thank heavens.”

Gwen and Percy were silent when Arthur gently brushed the knuckles of his flesh hand against Vivian’s chest. As he felt her breathing, Vivian’s arms twitched before she moved to snuggle against his hand. Arthur then looked at the twins, both of whom where staring at Vivian’s sleeping figure. He didn’t know what exactly the twins were thinking, but what he did know is that they’re good siblings. Sure, they made some mistakes, such as forgetting to change her diaper or burp her after a feeding once or twice. But in the end, they do what they can.

“My knight, could you do me a little favor real quick?”

Smiling to himself, he slowly pulled away from Vivian’s hold and went back to the screens. The screen with Elaine’s icon still shows that the footage is being recorded.

“I’m back, Elaine. Have you found anything?”

“Yes, remember me saying that we need to get police involved? Well, I found that drug ring they’ve been chasing for months.”

“Wait, seriously?” Arthur gave an exasperated shrug in total disbelief, “In the one place they didn’t check?!”

“Yep, and also, the stuff the kids smelled was meth. I didn’t recognize it at first since I’m more used to smelling pot. Oh, and I found the source of the screaming woman our client heard. A good thing I sent the kids back, because we have a, uh… 10-64.”

Arthur’s fingers twitched inward, nearly closing his shrugged hands into fists.

“What does that even mean?” Percy asked.

“Was someone doing math equations in the kitchen…?”

Arthur could tell that Gwen has no idea what exactly Elaine is talking about. Probably a good thing that Percy doesn’t get it, either, since the two of them are too young to realize what Elaine discovered is actually pretty gruesome. Which meant that any further attempts for the job to go smoothly is now gone.

Again.

- - - - - - -

When Vivian became eighteen months old, Arthur and Elaine soon realized what kind of yokai form their third child has.

The family of five had gone on a walk through the downtown area of Cantabile to attend a music festival celebrating the Day of the Dead. There are various booths that sell various festival treats and merchandise, some booths sold arts and crafts made by individual people, and there were even some lottery booths. The lottery booths had small bingo ball cages full of small spheres of various colors, with the color determining the prize. Prizes that range from stickers to books and coupons to vouchers. Neat.

As the music played to honor the dead and departed, as Arthur held his second daughter in his arms, he noticed that Vivian started to reach out to something. He looked, and saw that it was one of the many bingo ball booths. Curious as to what had Vivian’s attention, he decided to check out the booth while Elaine and the twins were looking at another booth nearby.

Arthur read the list of prizes. The common white ball gives a sticker, the not so common blue ball gives a voucher for a free chicken sandwich at a locally owned restaurant, the rare red ball will result in a free meal for two from the same restaurant, while the only one gold ball within will win…  Wait, is that right? Arthur rose a brow as he read the sign that showed the top prize.

“Baba! Baba!” Vivian tugged at his shirt and pointed at the bingo and babbled excitedly, “Tee! Tee!”

Arthur rose a brow while deciphering her words, but soon realized what she was trying to say. Shrugging to himself, he reached out to try his luck.

…Well, then.

Later that evening, once the family of five came home, Arthur went and showed Elaine, Gwen, and Percy exactly what he won at that one lotto booth and three others.

“Tickets to an MS Dubuc concert?! They’ve been sold out for weeks!” Percy gawked at the items in question.

“Forget only winning one, Daddy,” Gwen is also shocked, “How were you able to win four of them in four different booths?!”

“Crazy as it is, it only happened when I tried the ones Vivian pointed at,” Arthur raised Vivian slightly, the little girl clapping and giggling, to show his point, “When I tried the other booths that Vivian didn’t show interest in, I only got the last place prizes. I guess the ones she pointed out was just luck?”

“Luck…!” Elaine just barely stopped herself from doing a facepalm, “Of course, now it all makes sense! We’ve been having such good fortune happen to us ever since Vivian was born is because she’s a Zashiki-Warashi!”

“A Zashi-what?” Arthur rose a brow, as did the twins.

“Zashiki-Warashi. They’re yokai that are said to grant good fortune and great riches to the house they haunt. Assuming that the homeowner takes good care of them, that is. In short, they bring good luck in return for love and care. Their power isn’t always consistent, but all the sources mainly say is that they love pranks and play tricks. Teleportation is among some of the things they’re capable of doing when playing around. This also explains her long hair, because she’s always been in her other form.”

“Is that even possible for you?”

Elaine shook her head, “Not really, most of us can’t use our monster forms constantly. It tires us out.”

Arthur looked at Vivian, who is still grinning up at him. If she really is a Zashiki-Warashi, then all the good things that have been happening since she was born did make sense. Still, whether she had power or not, Vivian is a perfect little girl to him, and he’s determined to see to it that she grows up with all the love he could give her, just like he always had with Gwen and Percy.

Assuming I can live to see her reach that age. He thought bitterly for a brief moment before shoving the thought aside.

A few weeks later, the family of five made sure to enjoy the Dubuc concert to the fullest as a family. They were able to include Vivian because admission to those three and under were free.

- - - - - - -

…

…

…

Why? Why did this have to happen?

I thought that… if we just waited and talked…

None of this would have happened.

…

…

…

Where are you? It’s so cold…

I just want to say that I’m sorry.

Why aren’t you coming back?

…

…

…

What have you done?!

It’s too late! We can’t fix this!

After everything he did for us!

…

…

…

AND IT’S ALL!

YOUR!

FAULT!

…?!

Notes: Regarding Arthur’s arm, keep in mind that his current prosthetic has a covering that makes it look like a real arm. You can barely see the detail revealing it if you look closely.

MS Dubuc is actually a shout out to the Mystery Skulls band itself, run by Luis Dubuc. Alberto Rodgers is named after two people. “Alberto” being Luis’s middle name, while “Rodgers” is from Nile Rodgers, who has collaborated with Mystery Skulls a few times, notably for Magic and Number 1.

Because the Mystery Skulls in the Animated series is named after the band, I thought it would be fitting that, in-universe, Vivi named the team after a band she really liked. In context, Vivi named her Mystery Skulls team after MS Dubuc’s song “Mystery Skulls.” Do keep in mind that this “song” doesn’t actually exist in real life as of this writing.

So in Knights, MS Dubuc is a parallel of our world’s Mystery Skulls, and MS Dubuc wrote all the songs that Mystery Skulls released except for Ghost, which is something Lewis made in this world. If Lewis hadn’t made Ghost, Arthur wouldn’t know the chorus he uses as a lullaby, so I had to make that adjustment.

…What? You’re asking how Vivienne is still around? She had her daughters pretty early in her life, for one thing, and she hasn’t reached the age of ninety yet.

Part 11: Together…?

[one-night-story]

I Got a Premonition that Tonight is Getting Strange (Arthur Curry/Aquaman)

Allie walked through the door of her old home town pub that she hadn’t been in since she was way younger than she should’ve been. She looked around at the “fisherman chic” decor that hadn’t changed since she had left. She took a breath and made her way to the bar. The bartender had her back to her, so he didn’t immediately see that she had sat down. Her usual spot felt almost comforting if it weren’t for the sense of whiplash she felt being there. The wood was scored the same from the knives she had scratched into it, the seat felt different from the crease she had carved when she was younger, and the pens and paint marks were still there from when she had finished school projects there. The bartender turned around and looked in awe at Allie.

“Baby sis you’ve gotta be kidding,” The bartender, or more accurately her older brother Mark said with awe.

“What? Thought I wouldn't come?” She asked with a sly smirk. Mark got out from behind the bar and hugged her tight.

“No, it’s just… life’s been so weird since you left.” He said.

“Yeah I heard.” She said with a chuckle. “Sounds like we’ve got a celebrity.” She remarked as she let him go back to his job. Their tiny town of Amnesty Bay had made headlines recently for being the hometown a superhero. She had only heard bits and pieces, but she knew the media called him “Aquaman” and conspiracy theorists thought he was from Atlantis. Amnesty Bay knew his name was Arthur Curry and as far as they knew, human.

“Didn’t you two date?” He asked. Allie felt the blood and warmth rush to her cheeks. She quickly hid it by running her hand through her hair.

“No, the thought didn’t even cross my mind. You know how I am about relationships.” Allie lied as her brother made her a rum and coke. The thought had crossed her mind. Multiple times. Though she never wanted to admit to herself or anyone.

“Yeah, yeah, “if you wanna be my lover, you have to tell me in exact words because I am oblivious.”” He said verbatim from her old mantra when they were in high school. “I am glad you’re back home though. Haven’t seen you in ages baby sis.” He added. Allie rolled her eyes at being called baby sister again. They were only a year apart, but she got the “baby” label.

“Whatever old man, just wish it were for circumstances that didn’t involve you getting married...” She replied. The duo went silent for a moment as Mark rolled her eyes handed her drink over to her.

“You know she’s not that bad once you get to know her.” He replied.

“Well, you guys didn’t really make an effort to come out and introduce her to me.” She stated. Mark conceded and she smirked. She made a gestures in cheers and took a sip of her drink. She found herself not flinching at the taste. Her older brother had remembered she liked more coke in her rum in coke. Truth was she had never gotten drunk because she couldn’t stand the taste of straight alcohol. Didn’t stop her in college and even late high school, but when you grow up in and around a bar, the idea of getting blackout drunk doesn’t really appeal as much. She watched her brother as she took care of the other patrons around the immediate bar. Allie zoned in and out, running her fingers over the carvings in the bar. They were stupid, but they made her smile a little on the inside. A sign that no matter how much she had changed; this place would be here. Hell, this place could probably survive the apocalypse. She wouldn’t put it past the place. When she came zoned back into her present space, or perhaps what had caused her to zone back in, was the sudden appearance of someone who the bar greeted fondly. Someone sat down next to her and initially she didn’t pay them any mind, if they were a problem, Mark would warn her.

“Mark, how’s the evening treating you?” The person asked. She smiled a little at that. His voice was deep and kind, she recognized it, but she didn’t know where from, seeing as he knew her brother’s name was as good as a sign as any that he was a regular.

“Well it improved with your arrival.” Mark joked as he put a beer down. The man laughed, seemingly catching on her brother’s subtle innuendo.

“What would your fiancée think?” He said.

“Ah, for you Arthur, I think she’d understand.” Mark replied. Allie felt her hair stand up. Arthur? Their local celebrity superhero, her for a period of time unadmitted crush (junior year was a dark time, and he gave the best hugs when one is coming out of a bathroom post crying session, not to mention the handful classes they had together and him going out of his way to bond with her when he could). Allie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and was greeted with an arm covered in tattoos and about the size of her head and the guy attached had thick curly hair tied up in a bun and a beard. She looked down at her glass and would’ve downed it, had there been anything in it.

“Big bro, what’s a girl gotta do to get a refill? Turn into a burly super hero?” She joked. Mark rolled her eyes.

“And here I thought I was gonna give you an employee discount.” He said.

“Hey, I’m still on the payroll, I’ll give myself a discount thank you very much.” Allie replied. She felt Arthur’s eyes on her.

“Oh no you will not.” Mark replied as he placed a new drink in front of her. “Arthur, you remember my baby sister Allie.” Mark said causing Allie to have to acknowledge Arthur sitting next to her. She turned slightly in her stool and offered her hand.

“Yeah, I remember you. You nearly tore Mrs. Ball’s head off verbally for a year in World History.” Arthur said with a smile and accepting her hand. Allie felt her cheeks glow red, of course that would be the thing he remembers about her, it’s not like she did much else (though she would forever be proud of the event in question).

“That would be me. Nice to see you again Arthur.” She said. The door opened again, and Allie barely looked over her shoulder to see the woman in the power suit to match it to the pictures Mark had sent.

“Mark, I thought you were supposed to be off work already?” She said, Julia Moore, soon to be Julia Wilson. Allie tried not to grimace too much at her voice. It reminded her of something out of a bad rom com.

“Sorry baby, but my switch hasn’t come yet.”

“Yeah it has.” Allie said. Mark looked to her and she felt Arthur’s gaze on her as well. “Bro, get out from behind the bar and go hang out with your fiancée.” She stated. Mark reluctantly came out from behind the bar, and when the siblings passed each other, they did their secret sibling handshake that Mark had made her make with him when they were 10 and 9 respectively. Allie then proceeded to tie up her hair that wasn’t shaved into a messy bun on the top of her head. Julia looked at the woman now behind the bar.

“Did I hear you address him as “bro”?” She asked. Mark slapped his forehead.

“Julia, this is Allie, she’s my baby sister. Allie, this is Julia in person.” He said. Allie reached her hand across the bar and offered it to her soon to be sister in law. Julia shook it.

“Thank you for doing this for Mark.” She said.

“Hey, it’s my family bar too.” Allie said. Arthur looked at the two of them, trying to make heads or tails of the whole situation. “See you guys at rehearsal yeah?” She said. Mark laughed and waved to her as the two left the bar. Allie promptly got to work, learning everyone’s orders and what round everyone was on. She returned to in front of Arthur who was looking at her with slight confusion. “What?” Allie asked.

“Did he say, “in person”?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, Julia’s schedule is hectic as hell and I don’t exactly live around here, so they never got around to visiting me before they got engaged. So, I only know about her through photos, text descriptions, and as a voice in the background of FaceTime calls.” She said, listing things off on her fingers. Arthur’s eyebrow raised and he took a swig of his beer.

“And based off of that, what do you think of her?” He asked. Allie furrowed her brow and took care of some customers before returning to the question.

“She’s… alright. I don’t know anything about her other than she works for an ad firm but has enough seniority to work from home, and she wants to be there for whatever kids they have. I don’t like her voice. But other than that, she seems, fine. I find it odd that my brother is marrying outside this town. I figured if he was gonna get married, he would marry someone from here.” Allie said.

“You have a favorite ex?” He asked. Allie laughed.

“Oh yeah, Janet. They dated from sophomore year to the end of the summer senior year. I was convinced for the longest time that she was gonna be on the other end of the aisle walk. Plus! She was the only one of his girlfriends who bothered getting to know me.” Allie said.

“I remember them. I remember when someone told me they had broken up they finished the statement “so clearly love is dead now.”” He said with a hearty chuckle. Allie smiled, that didn’t surprise her. She remembered being teary about it. Especially since she and Janet didn’t stay in contact as much as she would have. “There was a rumor at one point you weren’t gonna come to the wedding.” Arthur said. Allie cleaned some glasses and rolled her eyes.

“God, a girl is bad at RSVPing and suddenly her brother starts town gossip.” Allie said. “I didn’t even consider for a second not coming to my brother’s wedding. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I am very bad at time management and spaced RSVPing until literally 11:56 before the day change where I pinged my brother and said “yes I’m coming. No, I don’t have a plus one.”” She stated. Arthur chuckled and took note of her saying she didn’t have a plus one. “I assume you’re going,” she said.

“Yeah, I’m one of his groomsmen.” He said. Allie raised her eyebrow as she tried to imagine Arthur in a suit. She saw a lot of sad fabric trying to hold it together and at least one button bailing before it was too late. She shook the thought out of her head and took care of some more customers. She poured Arthur another beer and then leaned against the back counter. She watched as he did, surveying the bar and feeling a bit at home. A man in a business suit came in as well as an older woman who was trying to look younger than she was. They came up to the bar but didn’t sit down. Allie furrowed her brow and looked at Arthur, mouthing a “do you know these people?” Arthur shook his head and Allie wandered over to where they were, putting on her best customer service voice.

“Hi, welcome. Can I get something started for you?” She asked.

“Yes hi, are you Allie Wilson?” The older woman asked. Allie furrowed her brow and looked at the couple suspiciously.

“Who’s asking?” She asked.

“I am Mary Moore, I’m Julia’s mother.” She said. Allie allowed her form to ease now that she knew she wasn’t in any immediate danger.

“Pleasure to meet you Mrs. Moore, what can I do for you?” Allie asked with a little less of her customer service voice.

“We wished to talk to you about the wedding.” She said. Allie went back to being confused.

“What do you mean? I know nothing about the wedding.”

“We noticed that you RSVPed without a plus one,”

“Yeah, I don’t really… date.” Allie said. She picked up a glass to clean so she was still being productive.

“Well you are the only one without one, I’m going to ask you to find one.” She stated in a matter of fact tone. Allie’s eyes went wide.

“Excuse me?”

“We look forward to meeting the lucky man.” She said as she and presumably her husband left the bar. Allie had the sudden urge to tear out her own hair. Or strangle someone. She turned to Arthur.

“Did you know about this?” She asked.

“Yeah, Mark mentioned something about it. Julia’s family’s big on balance or something so everyone was asked to bring an opposite gender plus one.” He said. Allie rolled her eyes.

“And he didn’t feel the need to tell me?”

“You RSVPed so late, I don’t think it was high on his priority list. Plus, you’re his sister, I have a feeling that he knew that this would be your reaction.” Arthur defended her brother. She groaned and dropped her head to the bar briefly.

“How the hell am I gonna find a date in two days?” She asked.

“I don’t wanna be too forward,” Arthur started to say.

“If you’re about to propose faking as each other’s plus ones you better have a damn good pitch.” Allie said. Arthur laughed.

“I’m just saying, we kill two birds with one stone,”

“She said everyone had a plus one,”

“Yeah well my plus one is more of “proof of me having one” than an actual plus one.”

“So, you don’t have one, but told them you did?” Allie asked.

“Yeah exactly.” Arthur said. Allie laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Alright Curry, count me in. On one condition:”

“Shoot,”

“We have to let Mark in on it,”

“Fine by me.”

After the bombshell was dropped on them, the rest of the night was quiet and peaceful. Allie closed up shop and Arthur left to go settle some last-minute things. Allie locked up with the key her father made her carry on her at all times and then she proceeded to call Mark. One ring, two rings…

“Hello?” Mark said his tone a little groggy.

“When were you going to tell me about the whole “Everyone must have a plus one?”” Allie demanded. Mark groaned but chuckled a little.

“Mary told you? I wasn’t gonna force it on you baby sister. But apparently Mary is instant the whole wedding will have “bad omens” if the guest list isn’t perfectly balanced.”

“You do realize you are spewing horseshit right now, right?” She asked. Mark laughed on the other end of the line.

“Yeah I know, but Mary’s paying for the whole thing and keeps throwing tantrums every six minutes about tiny details.” He said. “So, who are you gonna call in on such short notice?”

“Arthur.”

“Curry?”

“No, Arthur Dayne, of course Arthur Curry!” Allie snapped.

“He already RSVPed with a plus one,”

“Apparently his was fake so he agreed to take me in a sort of “fake dating” scenario.”

“Think you can pull it off?”

“Oh yeah, it’s not like it’s something I’ve been mentally practicing since I was sixteen or anything.” Allie remarked. She groaned, oh this was gonna kill her. “You so owe me for this brother.” She added.

“Made a note of it baby sister. Get some sleep.” He said. Allie hung up and sighed. She then got into her car and drove back to where she was staying for the weekend.

Two days passed and the wedding was upon them. Allie had shown up in the dress she was forced to wear by the dress code, another proof against “bad omens”, and she found herself stressing out a little. Her brother was getting married. There was something jarring about that. They were only a year apart and were so close before real life got in the way that when he had told her he was going to propose she didn’t believe him. Her brother? The guy who went through three shirts in the morning and couldn’t put his phone on shuffle ever? That guy was getting permanently attached to someone for better or for worse? The concept seemed entirely foreign to her. She was starting to wonder if she was going to have to find her seat (the other thing about this new age wedding, assigned seats) on her own, when Arthur jogged in through the front door. He wore a suit, which was so drastically different from his t-shirt in jeans that Allie felt the urge to brace against something, but still had little hints it was still him. From his hair in a bun, the jade around his neck, and the absurd amounts of rings on his fingers, he was still Arthur Curry. Just in a suit for the day.

“Hey sorry, the groomsmen needed to meet before the wedding.” He said. He pulled her into a hug and suddenly Allie felt like she was sixteen again. “Go with it,” he whispered in her ear. He then pressed a kiss to her temple and for the rest of the conversation, had her pulled into his side.

“Right, I’m gonna go get in my assigned seat because that isn’t bonkers or anything.” Allie said. Arthur chuckled and gave her a squeeze.

“You do that, the real challenge will be the reception.” He said.

“Oh yeah,” Allie muttered. Arthur released her and went back to where the groomsmen were. Allie’s side still felt like the pressure and heat were there. This man was going to ruin her, she could tell.

The ceremony was nice enough. A bit too “new age” and about 20 minutes too long. But by the end of it, in the eyes of the State of Maine, her brother was married. The multiple parties got into their cars and drove to the restaurant they were hosting the reception at. Allie thought about how she had only been a handful of times when she was younger and usually with Mark or their father. It felt odd coming here with so many strangers. It was in this moment Allie realized that her moving away had really isolated her, both from her brother and her hometown. She wasn’t the lead singer in a pop punk band, she didn’t hate the place. But it just seemed small compared to whatever she was going to do with her life. So, she watched the merry making of the wedding. Her brother seemed genuinely happy and for that she couldn’t be happier. Arthur came over to her side and wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his side.

“I’m happy for him. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” Allie stated.

“I wouldn’t imagine anyone saying that,” Arthur said.

“Mary’s glaring at us like that’s what she wants to say.” Allie remarked. Arthur chuckled and stepped into her line of sight.

“Then don’t think about her,” He said. Allie looked up at him and was greeted with a smile that could put bottled sunshine to shame if that was even a thing. “C’mon, let’s dance.” He said. He took her hand and the duo wandered onto the makeshift dance floor that had a handful of other couples there. Arthur held her and Allie tried her best. But the height difference between them was edging on comical. Arthur chuckled softly at this as they swayed to the soft music. Allie seemed completely content in that moment. But something was nagging in the back of her brain, something that she couldn’t stop thinking about.

“Hey Arthur,” she probed. He looked down at her, “why cook up this fake dating plot?” She asked. He lightly chuckled.

“Your brother was right you are oblivious as sin.” He said. Allie furrowed her brow.

“Wait, you’ve been flirting with me?” She asked.

“Did so for four years. Thanks for noticing.” He joked. Allie let her forehead drop to his chest as he laughed a little.

“Don’t worry, it was an enlightening experience.” He said.

“Why didn’t you just ask me out you idiot?” She asked.

“At the time? Lack of confidence and fear. Now, distance and my side hustle.” He said. Allie rolled her eyes.

“For your reference. I would have and still would say yes.” She stated.

“Then Allie, wanna go out some time?” He asked.

Allie popped up on her tiptoes and pecked his cheek. “Sure, count me in fish dude.”

[reddeadtrash]

Ghosts

Summary: There is something strange about the woman they find in the winter wilderness. She is cold, unwavering, and strangely menacing. Arthur Morgan finds himself pulled in by that vivacity. Unbeknownst to him, she knows many things that elude this cowboy. Like magnet to metal, no matter how far he throws her away, he always finds himself going back.

GHOSTS MASTERLIST

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OC

Rating: M

Word count: 4022

CHAPTER FIVE: A DIFFERENT KIND OF LONELY

I bow down to pray I try to make the worst seem better Lord, show me the way To cut through all his worn out leather

As soon as they had made it back to Horseshoe Overlook, Arya was rushing across camp. Arthur hot on her heels, following her, couldn’t keep the smile off his face. She went straight to Hosea, who was bent over a few pieces of paper.

“Hosea!” Her voice was filled with joy and something that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Eagerness.

The young woman and Hosea had been quite the pair ever since her arrival within the gang. She was curious and asked a lot of questions. He was happy to teach and loved her eager demeanor. Often, she would spend the night curled into herself, perched beside Hosea, listening to whatever story he had in store for her. Sometimes he’d show her photographs. Other times, he’d show her maps.

“Hosea, I think we’ve got something good!”

When the man lifted his head, he was met with her smile; bright and enthusiastic. The sun was setting behind him – orange and bright – and as he got to his feet, the light behind him seemed to shift along with him.

“What is it?” he asked.

Arya beamed. It had been so long since she felt on the cusp of something this big. She didn’t mind that she was smiling so long and so fully. She didn’t mind that Arthur was staring. She cared even less that Hosea seemed astonished to see the pair of them together like this.

“I think we discovered something good in Valentine,” the girl went on. “The clerk at the Hotel – Miles – is harboring some big fancy boys from Saint Denis, who will be trafficking oil.”

Hosea scratched the bottom of his chin, a gesture that resembled Arthur’s way of contemplating. “You want to do a scam?” Hosea asked, blue eyes down to slits in concentration.

“I know we need to work out the details,” Arya answered. “But this sounds good, right?”

Hosea looked over at Arthur. The former seemed to be gaging just how good the entire ordeal was by Arthur’s facial expression. After a second of silent observation, Arthur just shrugged. “She’s onto something,” he grumbled.

“That man, from Saint Denis,” she eagerly pressed, “he said that his men and their wives will be coming by in three weeks. They’ll stay for a week, and once they have the oil, they’ll ride down to the docks on the Saint Denis coast. That’s where the money will be.”

Hosea’s entire face lit up. Wrinkles split at his eyes and creased around his mouth, but despite his old age, he looked stunning against the orange backdrop of the sky. “A good ol’ fashion money scam,” he beamed. “You guys will need me to work out some details before, and to ask around those I know in Valentine. You should also assemble a team. We need people to be those fake oil receivers in Saint Denis. We also need to know to who they are selling the oil to.”

Arya’s heart was hammering. Her cheeks hurt with smiling so hard, and the insides of her palms itched with anticipation. “So this could work?”

Hosea laughed. “This is definitely goin’ to work.”

She nodded so hard she feared her head would spin off her body. “Thank you,” she breathed. Hosea shook his head and waved her off, sitting back down at his table.

Later that night, she found herself sitting at the edge of the cliff. A small fire crackled at her feet, her legs outstretched towards the warmth, her back pressed against the trunk of a tree. Beside her, on each side respectively, was Sadie and Arthur. Above them, stars sprinkled like salt along the darkness of the sky. In front of them, the vastness of the world, the drop of the cliff, and the sweet breath of the wind.

They had shared some stew. They had shared some quiet and quick jokes. Arya was content with them both at her side. She wasn’t one to express fondness, but she would gladly say that their company made her feel safe.

Arthur grumbled as he got to his feet.

“Old man’s goin’ to bed,” Sadie joked. She was stretched out on her side, leaning on her elbow.

“I ain’t even that old,” Arthur answered, his voice deep in his chest. In the darkness, with the soft glow of the flames, he looked young. Arya stole a glance at his face; shadow of a beard, sharp jawline, high cheekbones. He had the rare wrinkle around his eyes, but his sun-reddened skin didn’t have any evidence of old age.

“Says the man who grumbles as hard as Hosea to get to his feet,” Sadie mocked again, throwing her head back to laugh. Arya smiled, picturing Hosea as he always was, grumbling about painful knees.

“I’m just grumblin’ because I’m tired!” Arthur protested. When he saw that both women were having none of his shit tonight, he shook his head. “Ah, leave me alone.”

Arya laughed. Arthur’s eyes snapped to hers quickly, and she caught the look of curiousness that crossed his features. “Just admit you’re an old man, Mr. Morgan,” she chuckled.

“I’ll admit it when I’m dead,” he fussed. Arya watched him wobble on his feet slightly, readjust his hat, and wave. “You ladies have yourselves a good night now.”

Sadie scoffed. “Sleep well, Arthur.”

“Night,” Arya mumbled.

His retreating footsteps were the sounds of scrunched leaves under boots. Arya kept pace with his breathing until it disappeared in the darkness, in his tent.

“You know he likes you, right?”

Arya’s head snapped to the side, black eyes meeting Sadie. The latter was now curled into herself, staring right into the flames. “What?” Arya asked, clearing her throat awkwardly.

“He’s sweet on you,” Sadie added, meeting the other woman’s eyes with a wicked grin.

“Arthur?” Disbelief made Arya’s voice sound high-pitched.

Sadie rolled her eyes. “Who else?” The fire crackled as silence took over for an instant. “He definitely fancies you.”

Arya shook her head, an elfish grin on her lips. “We’re friends,” she tried to justify.

“I don’t think he knows that,” Sadie answered bluntly.

Arya shrugged. Shook her head. Curled her legs in defensively. Sadie was one of the only people that she trusted among Arthur and Hosea. Everyone else… well, she knew.

Sadie and Arya being friends didn’t mean that Arya liked having someone poke around her life, nonetheless, her romantic life.

“I think he’s just lonely,” she whispered, avoiding Sadie’s glare. “If you weren’t a widow, he’d probably fancy you too.”

“He might be lonely,” Sadie answered after waving the other girl off. “But lonely men think with what hangs between their legs. They only come to you when they don’t want to be alone. And usually, that leads to some sort of physical contact. But Arthur’s loneliness is different. He… he longs.”

Arya could feel heat bloom in her chest. Anger. Fear. It mixed like mud, and her breathing became ragged, and the more she thought about it, about him, the more she saw it. The longing. The yearning.

“He’s a sad man,” she said, her voice sounding like a dead end. A conclusion.

Sadie scoffed. “He ain’t sad when he’s with you.”

Day break was like any other. John, Bill, and Arthur had gone hunting for the midday stew. Grimshaw and some ladies were fussing around for chores. Pearson had some leftover meat he was hanging to dry. Dutch and Molly hadn’t left their tent yet. Abigail was sitting on a log by the edge of the cliff, Jack hanging on her knees as she tried to give his hair a good brush. Lice tended to spread fast in these parts.

Everything was normal. Everything was quiet.

Arya was in her tent when she heard the first yells. They weren’t screams of help or alarm. They were screams of astonishment and fear.

The girl rose from her bed, where she’d been reading, enjoying the morning coolness before the heat came in. She rushed out, dressed in black pants and a matching black union shirt. Her eyes, as dark as night, searched the grounds around her.

Pearson had stopped hanging the meats and was wobbling strangely away from his wagon. At the entrance to camp, where Pearson was headed, three horses stood away from their usual spot. Arya saw Abigail, wailing, with Grimshaw holding Jack back from whatever had happened. Beside them, on every side, was everyone else.

“John, you idiot!” Abigail yelled, and Arya saw her hand fly and land, the sound of skin on skin echoing.

Javier burst out laughing.

“It ain’t his fault, Abigail!” Bill came crashing out of the crowd, front of his checkered shit bloodied. Dried crimson cracked on his neck and hands.

Someone was hurt.

For a brief, a very brief instant, Arya’s eyes searched for Arthur. She couldn’t find him, what with everyone crowding around the horses.

The smell of blood had the horses whinnying and stamping their hooves harshly onto the grassland. Arya’s first instinct was to get everyone out of their way.

“Move away!” she ordered, and the ease with which she slid into this role, of leader, felt almost foreign. She pushed people out of the way, out of the horses’ way, and found Arthur. He was holding John up by the waist, the latter looking sickly and deathly pale. One look, a once over, brought Arya to the conclusion of what the hell was going on.

John’s hand was covered in blood. Crimson oozed out and dribbled onto the grass at his feet. Arthur’s own hands, up to his wrist, were smeared in red. The front of his shirt was speckled, as if he’d been in the very near vicinity of what had happened to John.

“What happened?” Arya asked, stepping forward to examine the wound. John’s hand was mangled, as if bitten, but none of his fingers looked badly hurt.

“The idiot decided to have a hand-to-hand combat with a bear,” Arthur grumbled.

“Yeah, an idiot, that’s what you are, John Marston!” Abigail cried from behind.

Arya turned. Stonefaced and calm, she said, “I’m going to need you all to move back. We have to get him somewhere warm and quiet. All this fussing isn’t going to help him.” Abigail seemed to be personally vexed by the young woman’s statement. She fumed, picked up Jack, and scrambled away.

“The boy don’t need to see just how much of a fool his father is!” she screamed.

John, in his state, didn’t seem to care at all. His head of dark and messy hair hung low, his chin grazing his chest. Form all the blood loss, Arya didn’t know just how long he had.

Quickly, she undid the scarf around her neck. She tied it tightly around John’s affected wrist.

“Let’s get him to lie down,” she ordered to Arthur. “Miss Grimshaw, I need a bucket of clean and warm water. I need clean cloth and keep it coming. No one is bothering me, okay?”

Grimshaw, frowning, said, “Who put you in charge?”

“Does anyone know how to fix John’s mangled hand?” Arya challenged back. “Does anyone here know how to make sure he can use his hand and his fingers again? Didn’t think so. I got this.”

Dutch appeared suddenly, while Grimshaw scurried off to pertain to Arya’s many requests. Dutch seemed out of his wits. He tried cajoling John, but the latter was in and out of consciousness, leaning heavily on Arthur.

“Oh, dear boy,” Dutch mumbled. “What can I do to help?”

Arya wrapped one of her arms around John’s waist to help Arthur carry the injured man to her tent. “Have someone bring me small wooden sticks and a sewing kit.”

Dutch grumbled something, but Arya didn’t hear. John was heavier than he looked and carrying him was harder than she thought.

When they got to her tent, she made Arthur lay her newest patient onto her bed. She unrolled the flaps and closed them, so no one could see in and she could have all the peace she needed.

“Arthur,” she commanded, “bring me a stool.”

He left without a word, and for the first time, she was alone with John. She could asses his wound properly.

The center of his hand was bitten through and through. She had no idea if the bones had been touched, moved, or crushed. She hoped not the latter, because that meant John would never recuperate fully. His fingers were mangled, but it looked mostly like claw marks. Thick gashes, the meat red and burning, the bone opened and exposed. His wrist was bruised and bloodied with a few marks, but she suspected it was more a sprain than a broken wrist.

She had a lot of work.

Arthur came back with the stool. She sat beside John and waited. Grimshaw came and went a few times. She brought first the cloth, then the water, and lastly, she brought a needle and a roll of thread. She left without a word.

Arthur was the only one that Arya allowed to stay.

“How are you going to fix it?” he asked, as he watched the girl examine the wound.

“Do you have whiskey on you?” she asked. After a few moments, Arthur handed her a half-filled bottle. She took it graciously, took a swig, and poured a generous amount of it all over John’s mangled hand.

The injured man woke with a howl of pain so great that it resonated painfully in Arya’s ears. “There he is,” Arthur grumbled, taking the bottle from Arya’s hands and having a taste of it as well.

“What the hell!” John screamed. He was trying to curl his hand in defensively, but Arya held it down.

“I’m going to help you,” she was saying, but John was shaking, tears of pain in the corner of his eyes, his entire face contorted in effort.

Arthur came around and held John down by the shoulders.

“John!” Arya demanded her patient’s attention. “This is going to hurt like a bitch, but I’m going to fix you. You need to stay still.

By then, John’s entire body was trembling. He was white and weak from blood loss, and Arya didn’t doubt that sooner or later, he would lose consciousness again.

“Arthur, put this between his teeth,” she said, handing the man a wad of cloth. Arthur frowned, seemed puzzled, but when he saw Arya begin to toy with John’s hand, he stuffed the wad into John’s mouth.

The girl, bent over in concentration, blood sticky on her fingers, uncurled John’s fingers. He screamed behind his gag, thrashed under Arthur’s hold. She picked up some more cloth, damped it in warm water, and slowly began washing the wound.

Against the sharp screams of John, Arya explained what she was doing to Arthur. “I’m going to wash the wound,” she said. “I used the alcohol to sterilize it and my hands. I’m going to do by best to sew him back up, but I’m not sure if the bones in his hand, here, are crushed or unaffected. I would need… never mind. Then I’m going to use some sticks to make sure the bones, if crushed or broken, heal in their right place. My priority right now is to stop the bleeding. Once he’s all sewn up and I’m all done with the sticks, the key is to keep him fed and hydrated.”

By then, she had washed most of his wound. John was still bleeding badly, but she had gotten the dirt and grass out of his injury. She poured more whiskey onto it, and with that, John was out like a light.

Arthur relaxed and walked back to where he’d been before; behind Arya, watching over her head.

Slowly, painfully, she started to sow John’s hand back. She’d swab at it with a damp cloth sometimes, or alcohol, and then go right back in. She was so concentrated that she didn’t even notice the whispers outside of her tent, or the growing darkness around her, or the heavy hunger in her stomach. Dark, swan eyes were focused solely on the bleeding and horrible gash. Her mind was a haze of medicine. She didn’t even feel anything around or in her.

She carefully placed his fingers and hand upside down to sew his palm up. Then she spread his hand over a small pillow and began working with the sticks. Arya placed them each side of John’s fingers and tied them with rope. She used more cloth as cautionary measure on his sprained wrist, which had turned black and purple – most likely just a big bruise.

She gave the overall wound a good wash before settling back in her seat.

The silence seemed to fill her as she stared at John’s hand. It wasn’t pretty. Dried blood still crusted the sewn-up gashes, and the thread itself was hard from blood, and was a sharp contrast against the pale skin. The hand was slightly swollen and red, but nothing alarming to the young woman.

“I’m done,” she said. Her voice seemed foreign after all this time.

“Is he goin’ to be alright?” Arthur asked. The sound of his voice, for a short moment, was comforting.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Go get Abigail, will you?”

Not long after, Abigail shuffled in. Her eyes were red with tears, swollen, and her face was splotchy. She wore a thick cotton gown and a thicker shawl over her shoulders. Her usually spotless black hair was tousled into a bun at the base of her neck.

“Is he okay?” she hiccupped.

Arya nodded sternly, grabbed the woman’s hand, and said, “If he starts to tremble, to have chills, nausea, or he starts to get really hot, you come find me. If he starts to hallucinate or vomit or to sweat profusely, you come find me. If his wound becomes black or blood red or if puss starts to come out of it, you come find me, understand?”

The dark-haired woman looked confused. She staggered on her feet, sat on the edge of the bed, and wept. “What’s puss?” she asked.

“White, creamy substance,” Arya answered patiently.

“Why would his hand go black?” Abigail continued, still weeping, her face in her hands.

“That would be gangrene.”

“Gangrene?”

“Listen, Abigail,” Arya said, going to her knees. “If anything appears out of the ordinary, you come find me.” She was holding the older woman by the shoulders soothingly, something Arya rarely did.

“O-okay,” Abigail answered, sniffing and wiping her tears.

“The important thing is that you keep him fed and hydrated,” Arya counseled. “He needs to eat and drink water. Not alcohol. Water.”

Abigail nodded. Lowly, she murmured, “Thank you.”

“I’ll come back to check on him tomorrow morning,” Arya assured, still on her knees, still holding the other woman. “I’ll make sure he’s able to use his hand again.”

Again, Abigail nodded. She shifted away from Arya and closer to her husband.

Arya stood, and when she left the tent to breathe in the cold night air, that’s when the exhaustion hit her. Hunger growled in her stomach and she could feel the dried walls of her throat aching for water.

Arthur stepped out to join her. “You can have my tent for the night,” he offered. “You and Sadie.”

Arya smiled tiredly. “That’s kind of you.”

They got stew together and walked around camp assuring everyone that John was going to be fine. Dutch asked about the mobility of his hand. In truth, Arya was scared that John would never fully recover the use of his hand, but she confidently told Dutch that she’d work towards full mobility. Grimshaw and Karen, stoneface and cold, asked about the well being of John, but beneath their demeanor, Arya could see the worry on their faces.

Arya and Arthur spent most of the night reassuring their friends. Bill felt guilty for not killing the bear, but Arthur took the blame right off his shoulders.

“You didn’t tell me exactly what happened,” Arya asked, sitting – finaly! – on a stump in front of a dying fire. Arthur sat on the ground beside her, finished his stew, and let the bowl clink beside him.

“Went chasin’ after a bear,” he started. “I was on my horse, lookin’ for clues. Bill was wandering around on the rocks for some reason. Then I hear this big roar and sound, like somethin’ crashin’ through the trees. I go runnin’. Then John’s screamin’, and when I get to him, he’s squarin’ up like he wants to fight the thing. Obviously, get’s wrecked. Bill shoots at it, and the thing just runs away.”

Arya smiled and huffed, “There’s only John to square up to a bear.”

Arthur laughed through his nose, but then his face went cold as he stared into the fire. Arya saw the shift and wondered why her own chest ached. “I thought he was goin’ to die,” he admitted lowly.

“But he didn’t,” Arya said.

“Yeah, because of Bill.”

“It’s not your fault, Arthur.”

“I know,” he said awkwardly. “It’s just… I just stood there, you know?”

Arya’s eyes glazed in empathy. “Sometimes shock takes away your ability to make decisions.”

“But that never happened to me before,” Arthur objected. “I’ve always had my finger on the trigger. I never hesitated. Never. And then, when it comes to savin’ John’s life, a moment more important than many I’ve had to fire my weapon for, I can’t.”

Arya nodded in understanding. She shifted on her log awkwardly. Sentimental conversations were not her forte. “You… you love John,” she mumbled. “Moments of quick action, crisis moments, change when it involves someone you’re afraid of losing.”

Arthur was quiet for a moment. The young woman stared at the fire but was very aware of Arthur’s presence beside her. After a pause, he said, “You’re right.”

A sigh left the woman’s lips. “You’re a good man, Arthur,” she mumbled.

He grumbled, groaned something, and then sighed. “How do you know all this doctor stuff anyway?”

“You think I’m a witch?” she joked.

Arthur laughed and the sound was music to Arya’s ears after all this silence. “If I had a right mind, I’d think so,” Arthur mused. “But I ain’t gonna burn you at the stake, young lady.”

Smiling, Arya offered, “I learned from my mother. She was a doctor.”

Frowning, Arthur turned his blue gaze onto Arya’s profile. “A woman doctor?”

“Uh- no, I mean, yes, but uh-,” Arya stammered, pushed her hair behind her ears. “She was – uh – a healer. You know. A herbalist. But she knew about surgery.”

Arthur huffed. He didn’t seem convinced by her answer. “You said a lot of words back there that I don’t know,” he grumbled, returning his eyes to the fire. “Your mother must have been a hell of a doctor then.”

“She was.”

The crackling of the fire took precedence. Arya’s mind was whirling. Images swooping in to disturb the peace she was staggeringly trying to keep. The faces of her mother and father oozed in and out of memory, but just like her brother, they were fading.

“You never told me what happened in Delaware,” Arthur said, breaking the silence. “Why you left. Why it was just you and your brother.”

Arya stiffened and suddenly, she was cold. She wanted to leave. The drying blood on her hands was not John’s but another man’s. Her throat was closing up.

“It’s not something I discuss,” she all but choked out.

Under the watchful and curious stare of Arthur, the brunette got to her feet and scurried away. The night cloaked the rising tears in her eyes and the way she curled into herself protectively. When she burst into Arthur’s tent, she flopped onto the bed. The smell of him – pinewood, fire smoke, and river water – made her mind burn with too many thoughts. Tears welled and poured over her cheeks. She curled into a ball.

The last thing she was conscious of before she fell asleep was the deep smell of Arthur Morgan all around her.

[distractedhistotech]

Before MSA + 1: Finally Together

Vivi ran up and rang the doorbell.  Arthur and Ben had just caught up when Lewis opened the door.  “Hi Arthur.”  His gaze averted towards Vivi.  “And you must be Vivi.”  His eyes dropped to Ben.  “Ah. You didn’t mention anything about a dog.”

Arthur facepalmed. He knew he was forgetting something.

“Don’t worry. Ben’s very well behaved,” said Vivi. “Plus, he’ll let us know if any ghosts show up!”

“We’re not gonna see any ghosts while Sydney’s around,” Lewis said matter-of-factly.  He still moved aside so they could come in. “We’re watching anime in the living room.  Don’t get too loud.  Belle’s not sleeping, but I don’t wanna startle her.”

The walked a few feet to the living room.  Sydney was playing peek-a-boo with a giggling baby while an anime with girls running around in indecently short skirts were fighting a monster.  Arthur quickly averted his eyes.

“Fluffy doggy!” And Sydney was suddenly dashing towards them.

Lewis intercepted her, grabbed her, spun them in a circle, and flung her over his should as she giggled.  “C’mon, you know you shouldn’t surprise dogs like that.”

Sydney pouted and made grabby motions towards Ben.  “But the fluffy…”

Arthur glanced towards Ben and was surprised to find the dog had recoiled and looked like he was trying to make himself look smaller and…was he scared?

Vivi gave Ben a confused look too.  “Ben? You okay?”

Sydney winced. “Oh shit.  Did I scare him?  I’m sorry doggy!”

Lewis set Sydney on the ground.  Ben inched forward a bit.  “Hold your hand out,” suggested Vivi.  Sydney listened.  Ben sniffed cautiously at her hand.  After a moment, he licked at her hand.  Then he pushed pressed his head into the palm of her hand.  Sydney giggled and pet him.  Vivi smiled.  “That’s better.  He usually doesn’t startle very easily…”

Lewis grabbed Arthur’s hand.  “Come meet Belle.”

Arthur let himself get dragged over to where the baby was starting to make crying sounds.  She calmed down as Lewis came into sight. “Arthur, Belle.  Belle, Arthur.”

Belle held her hands up towards Lewis, seemingly not caring about Arthur.  Lewis carefully picked her up, holding her like she was the most precious and fragile thing in the world.

Arthur guessed that’s what she was to Lewis.  “She’s…small.”

Lewis chuckled. “You should have seen her when she was a newborn.”

Right she would have been even smaller then, wouldn’t she?

“Would you like to hold her?”

Arthur blinked and studied Belle, who was rapidly falling asleep.  He’d never been around a baby before, not even his younger siblings. He wasn’t entirely sure how to act around them outside of being careful and quiet.

Belle was…new.  And helpless.  She had to depend on others whether she wanted to or not, and honestly she probably didn’t know any better.  She had pretty much no experience when it came to life. Innocent and blissful.

And his hands were covered in blood.

“No!”

Lewis gave him a startled look, and Arthur realized that definitely wasn’t a normal reaction. Thankfully, Vivi came to his rescue. “He’s got some weird phobias,” said Vivi, which was technically true.  “Very personal.  He probably still hasn’t told me all of them.”

Arthur nodded. “I’m a mess.”

“So, Arthur’s odd fear of infants aside…”  Vivi pulled out a ouija board and a camera.  “We can do ghost photos, watch tv, or play videogames.”

Lewis narrowed his eye.  “You are not using a ouija board in here.”

Sydney shrugged. “It probably wouldn’t work anyway.”

“Please don’t summon any angry ghosts,” added Arthur.

“I’d put up protections,” protested Vivi, but she put away her ‘supplies’.  “So…I guess that leaves tv and videogames.”

“Do you mind if we stick to tv?” asked Lewis.  “I kind of want to keep my hands free.”  He shifted Belle in his arms a bit.

Arthur glanced towards the TV and winced.  “Can we watch something else?  Their clothing seems…improper.”

Sydney snorted. Lewis gave her a deadpan look.  “I didn’t say anything.”  Sydney grinned and pulled out several DVDs and videos from somewhere.  “I got all sorts of awesome shows!”

Arthur stared at the various children shows in Sydney’s hands.  “Um…”  He glanced toward Lewis, who wasn’t making a move.  He glanced toward Vivi, who was looking at him expectantly.  He looked at Sydney, who was still grinning.  He pointed at a random cover.  “That one.”

Sydney turned it around to see what he’d chosen.  “Ooh. Batman.  Good choice.”

Batman?  “That’s a comic, right?”

“They can turn comics into cartoons,” Sydney said nonchalantly.  “I got Spider-man, the X-Men, and Superman too,” she said nonchalantly as she ejected a video and put in the Batman video.  She then dragged him onto the couch as they all sat down.

Arthur…wasn’t sure how he felt about Batman.  The man was obviously meant to be highly trained, even if he didn’t move quite right (Animation limits?).  Vivi, Lewis, and Sydney made a bunch of ninja comments.  He fought mostly normal people, a few super powered people.

It reminded Arthur a little too much of what he’d been trained to do before…before Tempo.

Arthur suspected he was going to be splitting his life into Before Tempo and After Tempo.

“I’m not sure I like Batman,” Arthur decided.  The man used fear as a weapon.  That was only possible because of his implied training.

Sydney pointed to her shows.  “We can watch something else.”

“How ‘bout Scooby-Doo? I love that show,” said Vivi.

The videos were switched and they watched the old cartoon instead.  Arthur decided it was much preferable.  It had scary monsters, but they were all men (or women) in masks. Not real.  Just a bunch of teenagers running around and solving mysteries that Arthur felt were needlessly complicated.  “Why do they bother pretending to be monster?  Most of these guys could get away with whatever they’re trying to do if they would just lay low.”

“That would make more sense,” agreed Vivi.  “I’m honestly not sure why the police don’t investigate them more.  Play some ghost noises to keep away anyone paranoid and that ought to be enough for most people.”

“Maybe ghosts are a fact of life in this universe,” said Sydney.  “So when they see the monsters, they just go ‘Oh, looks like we’ve got a monster.  Better stay away so we don’t get eaten.’  Oh!  Or maybe people have been pulling this sort of stunt for so long that it’s just become a fact of life, and people are only just now are figuring out that most of these are guys in masks, and the Scooby gang is one of the inadvertent forerunners in the start of this new age!”

Everyone stared at Sydney as she finished coming up with her impromptu theory.  “Welp, that’s another fanfiction idea,” commented Lewis.

“I’d go with the first one,” said Vivi.  “There are some movies that actually have ghosts and monsters.”

“Oh yeah…”  Sydney pulled out another video with Shaggy and Scooby in a cauldron with Frankenstein’s bride and a little mummy girl standing next to it.  “The Ghoul School!”

“Do you have Boo Brothers and the Reluctant Werewolf?” asked Vivi.

Lewis nodded.  “Those were fun.”

“I’d have to ask Dad, but I think so,” said Sydney.  “They show on Cartoon Network all the time though so I might be mixing ‘em up.”

“Wait.  These are movies?”  Arthur glanced between the Ghoul School cover and the tv.  “This show has movies?”

“Yep, several,” answered Vivi.  “They still release new movies and episodes regularly, although the setting is adjusted for modern times and I think they might be doing reboots.”

“It’s a well loved show, and the people who watched it as kids grew up and still loved it and wanted to be a part of it,” added Lewis.  “I’m sure we’d all do the same with the shows we love if we had the chance.”

Sydney cackled. “Oh fu-dge yeah!”  She pulled a small notebook out from her back pocket. “I have ideas!”  She opened it to a random point and Arthur could see a picture of Spider-man kissing some lady in a black suit.  “Spider-man and Black Widow!  They don’t have anything in common yet, but you could have them run into each other and then start hanging out and then start dating!”

Arthur had no idea what Sydney was talking about.  Who was Black Widow?

“I don’t think it’s quite the same thing,” said Lewis.  “Scooby Doo doesn’t have a lot of background information so you can do a lot of original stuff with it.  Spider-man and the other Marvel comics have a lot of backstory, so it would be tricky to make something like your idea work without radically changing things.”  He grinned.  “Plus, I like him and Mary Jane as a couple.”

Sydney paused and nodded.  “True. Peter and Mary Jane are a tried and true couple.  Spider-man/Black widow can be a What-If issue.”  Sydney paused and then grinned.  “Or…Mary Jane can be Black Widow.”

Arthur was so lost. Lewis glanced at him before turning to the TV.  “Maybe we can watch Scooby Doo and the Ghoul School after this,” suggested Lewis.

“Sounds good to me,” said Sydney.  “Oh! Don’t say anything.  We don’t wanna spoil anything for Arthur.”  She giggled.  “Plus, I kinda wanna see your face.”

Arthur blinked at everyone else’s grins and wondered if he should be worried.

In the middle of the next episode, Belle started whining.  Lewis took a moment to try and calm her and check her over.  “I’m pretty sure she’s hungry,” he concluded.

Sydney jumped off the couch.  “I’ll get it.”  She ran to the kitchen.

Arthur watched with fascination as Lewis worked on calming Belle.  From what he remembered of his family, his younger siblings had mostly been left on their own when they cried unless they needed to be changed or fed.

…Lewis was probably doing a better job than Arthur’s parents.

Sydney came back in with a bottle of formula that she handed to Lewis.  Lewis started feeding Belle.

…Lewis and Sydney were probably doing a better job than Arthur’s parents, and Sydney was…Sydney.

How could two adults be worse at taking care of a child than two middle school students?

It made Arthur feel just a bit bitter.  And then Ben decided to plop his head onto Arthur’s lap.  Arthur took advantage of it to pet Ben until he felt better.

“Time for Scooby-Doo and the Ghoul School!” proclaimed Vivi as the episode they were watching ended. She shot up, switched the videos, and sat back down with a grin directed towards Arthur that made him feel very nervous.

The movie started innocently enough.  “Where are Fred, Daphne, and Velma?”

Vivi shrugged. “College, I guess.”

“Or getting started on their own careers,” added Sydney.

Something about this made Arthur uncomfortable.  He ignored it.  “Who’s the talking puppy?”

“Scrappy Doo, Scooby’s nephew,” explained Lewis.

“How come he can talk more clearly than Scooby?” asked Arthur.

“Maybe Scooby just has a bad lisp?” suggested Sydney.

“And how come he’s walking around on his hind legs?” continued Arthur.

“I think Scooby’s too top heavy to do that for more than a few moments,” reasoned Vivi.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if Scrappy lost the ability when he got older.”

And that was good enough for the moment…and then they reached the premise of the movie.

“It’s a school for monsters?!” Arthur shouted, startling the others on the couch.  “Why is there a school for monsters?!”

“I guess their dads couldn’t homeschool them,” reasoned Sydney.

“But-but-aren’t they dangerous?!”  Belle started whining, and Lewis and Sydney hushed Arthur.

“Well, not necessarily,” said Vivi.  “Let’s take a look.  Vampires survive off of human blood.  Obviously, that would make them predators, but they don’t necessarily have to completely drain a person.  They can just take a small amount from several different people, and honestly, it’s not clear how much they need to survive.  They might not need all that much, and they could find willing donors. The only problem would be if the bite itself transforms someone into a vampire, but that’s a modern invention. Even if there were side effects from the bite, modern technology would let you remove blood without needing to bite someone.

“Frankenstein type monsters are actually pretty misunderstood.  In the original novel, the monster, he was named Adam by the way, was just as intelligent as a person, had emotions and empathy.  He tried to find human friends, but was rejected for how he looked.  Any violence he exhibited was mostly in self-defense with some violence towards his creator, who pretty much abandoned him, so I can’t blame him for being upset.

“Werewolves are a bit tricky since the transformation varies.  Some have to do with making a deal with the devil, which is obviously a bad thing, some with not attending mass for seven years, which seems unlikely considering the various religions in the world, and getting bitten by another werewolf, which would make it a disease.  You don’t shame someone for having a disease because that’s not something you have control over. The main problem is that they’re violent when they transform and can spread the disease, but most don’t want to be violent and isolate themselves to keep from hurting anyone.

“Mummies aren’t inherently evil.  In fact, mummies coming back to life is a recent idea thanks to movies, so I don’t think they’re an actual type of monster you’d run into.  However, I imagine that if you did, they would behave the same as they had when alive, and, well, I guess there might be some differences in morality due to culture, but they should still be decent.

“Ghosts are more often than not harmless but capable of affecting their environment and scaring people.  Not that they can’t harm the living.  That’s just pretty rare.  A lot of the time, they behave as they did in life, but some are influenced by how they died, which can make them angrier, sadder, or more frightened than they were when they were alive.

“Anyway, you got good monsters and bad monsters, just like you do humans,” finished Vivi.  It was at this moment she realized everyone was staring at her, including Ben and Belle.  “This is the sort of stuff I like.”

Sydney held up a hand. “I hear ya!”  Vivi returned the high five.

“You sure know a lot about monsters,” commented Lewis.  “Is that why you wanted to try and talk to the ghosts in the house?”

Vivi nodded.  “I’ve never actually seen a ghost or anything like that before, but I really want to!  I want to become a paranormal investigator so I can see all sorts of ghosts and monsters!”

“That would make an awesome comic book!” commented Sydney.

“But that’s dangerous!” said Arthur.  “What if you run into something awful?  And you get possessed?!  Or what if someone hurts you?!  What if you die?!”

“What if we’re in a car crash or fall down the stairs or get mugged or get bitten by a dog?” Sydney suddenly said.  She glanced towards Ben.  “No offense.”

Ben let out a huff.

“I think Sydney’s trying to say that all sorts of things could happen to you every day,” explained Lewis.  “If you worry and try to avoid everything, you won’t be living much of a life.” Sydney nodded.

Arthur thought about that.  If he wanted to avoid everything dangerous…Well, considering Sydney’s list he’d have to stay inside all the time.  That would drive him crazy.  “Okay, but…” Arthur turned towards Vivi.  “Don’t do anything really dangerous, okay?”

Vivi nodded.  “Yeah, Dad wouldn’t let me go on my own anyway. I’d need to get a few other people to go with me, preferably someone with experience.”  She grinned at Sydney and Lewis.  “You two interested?”

Lewis and Sydney stared at Vivi for a moment before exchanging looks.  They turned back to Vivi.  “Sure,” they both said.

“Whoa!  Really?” asked Vivi.  She hadn’t expected them to say yes.

“I’m kind of interested in ghosts too,” explained Lewis.  “But only ghosts.  I’ve never paid attention to the rest of that supernatural stuff.”

“I wanna learn magic!” proclaimed Sydney with stars in her eyes.

Arthur frowned. “I’m not sure how I feel about magic.”

“It’s science we don’t yet understand!” said Sydney.  “Or at least my dad said something like that while pretending to be The Doctor.”

Arthur frowned. “Doctor who?”

Sydney laughed. “Exactly!”

“Huh?”

“What about you Arthur?” asked Vivi.  “I know you and the supernatural don’t get along, but I wouldn’t want to leave you out.”

Sydney suddenly hugged Arthur, making him jump.  “I can keep the ghosts away!”

Lewis nodded.  “She’s really good at that for some reason.”

Vivi frowned in interest.  They’d made references to ghosts not liking Sydney a couple of times before.  “Do you have some sort of power that affects ghosts?”

Sydney and Lewis exchanged another couple of looks.  It was kind of amazing how they could have a conversation without actually saying anything.  “I scare ghosts for some reason,” admitted Sydney.  “I’ve punched a couple by accident since I can’t see ‘em.”

What.

“That…”  Vivi frowned in thought.  “Well, it would definitely be good for keeping people safe or getting rid of negative entities, but it might hinder the actual investigation. You won’t get any evidence of ghosts if the ghosts have all been scared off.”

“You…You scare ghosts away?”  Arthur was having trouble believing it, but when he thought about it…

Nothing strange ever happened when he was around Sydney and Lewis.  In fact, a lot less happened when he was at school with them.  He’d just been thankful that no one had found out about his tendency to attract ghosts and the like and hadn’t stopped to wonder if there was a reason for it.

“Y-You’ve been keeping away ghosts that hurt me this whole time.”

Sydney nodded.  “Yep!”

Vivi frowned.  “But how would you know about that in the first place?  You just said you have no sensing ability whatsoever.”

Sydney froze up. “Er…”  She gave Lewis a nervous look.  “Help?”

Lewis sighed in resignation.  “I’m a medium.”

Vivi gasped.  “Really?!  How strong is your sensory ability?  Which senses do you use?  Do you have any empathic abilities?  Is it connected to growing up in a haunted house?”

Lewis blinked at the assault of questions.  “Yes, I’m not sure how strong, I think all my senses, I don’t think I’m empathic, and I don’t think it has anything to do with this house.  I was a medium before the Peppers adopted me.”

“You’re adopted?” questioned Vivi.  “I guess you wouldn’t know if it runs in the family then.”

Sydney blinked in surprise.  “That can happen?”

Arthur finally got the nerve to talk.  “Did you see ghosts when you started sitting with me?”

Lewis winced and nodded.

“Is that the only reason you sat with me?” asked Arthur.

“Well, the first day, yeah,” admitted Sydney.  “But just the first day.  We liked hanging out with you.  I mean…We could’ve just sat on the other side of the table and not said anything to you.” She nervously started messing with her glasses.  “But, well, I’d understand if you were upset because that’s sort of an ulterior motive. Not that it’s a bad ulterior motive! At least I don’t think it is.”

“What Sydney means is that we’d like to think we’re friends now,” explained Lewis.  “You don’t always plan to become friends with someone, and I think that’s a good thing because that means you get along and like each other enough for it to just happen.”

“So…You planned to keep me safe and ended up becoming my friends?” questioned Arthur.  That…actually didn’t seem too bad.  The two hadn’t wanted to take advantage of him in any way. They’d just seen someone in trouble and decided to help.  He smiled. “Thank you.  I don’t think I would have made any friends otherwise.”

Sydney slapped his back.  “Hey, come on!  You’re a cool guy!”

Arthur’s heart twinged.  He considered correcting Sydney, but he didn’t think he was quite ready for that. Instead he shook his head.  “I attract ghosts and monsters.  Most people are scared away.”

Sydney frowned. “That sucks.”

Lewis frowned.  “Are you a medium too?  It sounds like ghosts are attracted to that sort of thing.”

Arthur shook his head. “I attracts ghosts, but I can’t detect them at all unless they’re visible to the general population.  That happens a lot more often around me though. I think I might be giving them power boosts, which is probably part of the reason they’re drawn to me in the first place.”

Vivi made a thinking sound and looked between Arthur and Sydney.  “You know…your powers are pretty much complete opposites.  They might cancel each other out.”

Arthur thought about not having to deal with ghosts anymore.  “That would be nice.”

“I don’t think it works quite like that,” argued Lewis.  “The nastier stuff stays away when Sydney’s around, but more normal ghosts still stick around.  They just usually keep their distance.”

Sydney nodded.  “You’re the expert.”

Vivi hummed.  “Have you seen any ghosts today?”

“Kurt.  He’s a little boy.”  Lewis nodded towards the stairs.  “He’s watching us and the shows through the railing.”  He noticed that Arthur was looking nervous.  “Don’t worry.  Kurt’s harmless.  The most he’ll do is hang onto your clothes.”

Vivi squealed happily. “That’s amazing!”

“You’re okay with being able to see stuff like that?” asked Arthur.

Lewis shrugged. “I’ve never not been able to see them. This is normal for me.  It does get scary sometimes, but we’ve learned some tricks.”

Sydney shrugged. “I’ve never been scared of any of this stuff.”  Maybe if she could see these sorts of things…Then again knowing that she was effectively living ghost repellant seemed to dampen the impact of anything that might be considered scary, including ghost movies.  Like how bulletproof skin would make you less afraid of guns, but not completely fearless because other people can get shot.  Especially if bullets ricochet off your skin.

Hm…Would she need to worry about ricochet?  Ghosts and bullets were two very different things.

As Sydney mused on the nature of her odd ability, Belle started whining again.  Lewis started bouncing her and checked her.  “She needs a change.  I’ll be right back.”

“Um, so…What do you do when you’re looking for ghosts?” asked Arthur.  He didn’t really want to go hunting for ghosts, but they’d probably end up coming to him anyway.  Might as well get it over with.  Besides, he could probably stick close to Sydney.

Vivi smiled.  “Well, we take precautions, like holy water, protective talismans, warding, that sort of thing.  Then you set up cameras and microphones.  Someone might be watching and listening to those.  Then you wander around in an organized manner to see if you can come across anything unusual, possibly with camcorders.  It helps if you have a medium.  After you decide you’ve been there long enough, you head home and review the footage and recordings for anything unusual.  Then you take everything unusual that happens and try to explain it rationally, like wind, gas leak, vibrations, that sort of thing.  You’d be surprised what can make someone hallucinate. Then if you have something you can’t explain, you have a ghost!  Then you gotta figure out what to do about the ghost.  Some you can leave, some you can’t.  It varies.”

Sydney raised a hand. “Question!  Why can’t we just have Lewis look around and tell us if there are any ghosts hanging around?  I’d even give him space!”

“She has a point,” noted Arthur.  “Especially if…if I was near Lewis.”  He wouldn’t like it, but he’d had to put up with worse.

“Yeah, that would make things faster, but we’d need physical proof for whoever hired us so we’d need footage or audio,” explained Vivi.  “Plus, what if the ghost decided not to talk to Lewis?  Some are pretty crafty.”

“You sure know a lot about this stuff,” commented Sydney as she reached over to pet Ben.

Vivi puffed up proudly.  “I come from a very long line of paranormal investigators.”

“That explains so much,” deadpanned Arthur.  He’d been wondering why Vivi’s father was actually teaching her this sort of stuff and kept ghost photographs…and martial arts?  “Wait.  Why do you need to know how to fight if you’re dealing with ghosts?”

Vivi shrugged.  “Dad says that you run into something physical enough that it’s a good idea.”

“What’s a good idea?” asked Lewis as he sat back down with a much calmer Belle.

“We’re gonna be ninjas!” Sydney proclaimed happily.

Lewis blinked.  “Huh?”

“Vivi’s family does paranormal investigating, and they sometimes run into…actual monsters?” That made Arthur nervous.

Vivi nodded.  “Basically, and ninja is a good way to explain some of my ancestors.”

“Cool” squealed Sydney.

“That is pretty cool!” agreed Lewis before frowning.  “I don’t think I have the right body type for that though.”

The other three kids and Ben turned to look at Lewis.  Taller than some adults already, broad shouldered, starting to build up noticeable muscle.  The kind of guy you’d expect to see on the football or wrestling team.  Unless you were one of his friends, in which case you would expect to find him in the manga or cooking club.

“Well, I’m not very good at ninja stuff either,” admitted Vivi.  “Although if you’re interested maybe you guys can learn a bit of basic self-defense at least.”

“That would be awesome!” declared Sydney.

“We usually spend the day after school here so I can look after Belle,” said Lewis.  “I guess maybe one of my parents could take the afternoon off.”

“You could bring her with you,” suggested Arthur.  “Vivi’s grandmother lives with them and is retired, and Mrs. Yukino is there some days. They wouldn’t mind, right?” Arthur asked Vivi.

“Mom would love to take care of Belle for an afternoon,” said Vivi.

Lewis thought for another moment before turning to Arthur.  “What sort of teacher is Mr. Yukino?”

“He’s tough and pushes you so you’ll grow, but he’s fair,” said Arthur.  “I think learning a bit from him would be a good idea.  Even if you don’t need to fight a ghost, it could come in handy if you ever get into trouble with a living person.”  They wouldn’t be learning how to kill after all. All in all, pretty reasonable.

Lewis looked a bit thoughtful.  Sydney elbowed him.  “C’mon, this sounds fun.”

Lewis glanced at Sydney before nodding with a smile.  “Okay, we’ll give it a try.”

Vivi grinned.  “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

[pangaea-writes-shit]

My Merman Bride [1/?]

Probably the cheesiest title ever, but I couldn’t come up with a better one. Please note that I’m not the best at English, so if you find any mistakes, feel free to tell me and I will change it immediatley. 

The fic is based on this picture a friend sent me and I hope my writing can somehow match the amazingness of it. Go follow the artist if you haven’t already.

The chandeliers sparkled in the light of the many candles littered around the whole dining hall, the floor was polished to the point where it shined, the finest and whitest cloths covered the tables, the most exquisite wine had been brought out, the most delicious food to accompany it, all of it to please the guests, and especially him.

Boring.

"Madame Winsley, I heard your daughter is coming of age soon?" Side glances at him.

Boring.

"Master Jones, have you tried the duck yet? The orange sauce really brings out its flavour!" A fake smile.

Boring.

"I must say, I really admire how you always work hard." A not very subtle cleavage pressing against his arm.

Boring. And annoying.

"Have you heard of the new trend yet? More and more people are getting a mermaid to keep at home."

Bor- no, wait. Interesting.

Alfred tried to catch more of the conversation a few of the countesses were having not too far from him.

"Really? They finally managed to catch them?"

"Only a few ones so far, so they're still expensive."

One of them sighed. "Oh, I wish I could afford one. Maybe even a hunky merman!"

A few gasps and giggles. "Miss Elswood!"

"Don't be fooled by mermen!" One of them butted in. "They also have these 'breeding types'. Males that can bear children!" Her face scrunched up. "It's so weird. And they're not even well built, no muscles, just soft and slender."

"But aren't these the most expensive? Isn't it kind of interesting how they're different from us?"

"Only to someone like you, Madame Caldwell. It's just weird how they're able to get pregnant, if you ask me."

No one asked you.

A collective sigh erupted from the group of gossiping women.

"I wish I could afford one."

"Master Jones probably could. He can afford everything."

"That's true."

Another sigh.

Alfred leaned back in his seat and allowed himself a slight grin. He heard something interesting today. Mermaids, huh. Or mermen. And even rumored 'bearing types'. He wasn't particularly keen on getting one, but he probably had to either way. It was a new trend and only the richest could afford it, he would be looked down upon and gossiped about if he didn't get one. Not that he paid it much mind, but his trading partners did and it would worsen his business. He would have to contact Baldwin about a tank soon.

--

"... that being said, I trust you to find me the most expensive mermaid or merman that's worth their price."

Alfred's head butler and old friend Henry nodded.

"Yes, Master Jones. I will not disappoint you."

--

Two weeks later, Henry knocked on the door to Alfred's study.

"I believe I have found the perfect specimen to buy."

Alfred looked up from his paperwork and allowed a smile to slip on his features.

"Well done Henry. Thank you."

Henry bowed.

"If you allow, I will show you my pick tomorrow. The merchant also praised him a lot. I think you'll be satisfied."

Alfred slighty raised one eyebrow.

"So it's a male then?"

Henry bowed again.

"Yes. A breeding type. They're rare and therefore more expensive."

"Well then." Alfred closed a book and clapped his hands together. "I look forward to seeing him tomorrow."

--

Alfred leaned forward and adjusted his glasses a bit. "Hmm... not bad." He straightened himself again. "How much did you again say he was?"

The merchant coughed discreetly before flashing his thought of a winning smile.

"8000 gold coins, Master Jones. A special price only for you."

Alfred only cocked his head slightly. He knew merchants like that.

"3000 at most. He is pleasing to the eyes, but nothing else. A bit plain if you ask me. Not to mention the eyebrows."

"3-" The merchant choked, "3000?! You must be joking! This specimen can-"

"I don't care." Alfred dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "3000 and no coin more."

"Master Jones, you have to think of me! My family! 7000 is the lowest I can go."

"3500. He may be nice and all, but have you seen his dull eyes? Like a dead fish."

"6000 gold coins, Master Jones, please, that's the lowest I can go. My children-"

"You don't have any children, nor a wife, good sir. 4000 gold coins."

"Fine. 5000! But no lower than that!"

"Deal." Alfred handed him a bag full of coins. He had readied this amount beforehand, knowing that's the lowest price he could get out of the merchant. The merchant opened the bag and gave it one good look over before closing it again. He smiled and stepped aside.

"He's all yours, Master Jones."

Alfred gestured for the workers to lower the net into the tank. The merchant stuffed the bag full of coins in his jacket pocket, his people pleasing attitude had vanished now that the deal had been made.

"So, will you take him as wife or as a slave? I need it for the contract."

Alfred frowned, confused.

"Excuse you?"

"Aah, Master Jones, didn't you know? When buying a mermaid or a merman, you either take them in as a slave or marry them. He may be a male, but since he is a breeding type, it's completely legal to marry him."

Alfred's frown deepened as he thought about it. He didn't really need a slave, his servants did their work and he doubted that dull-eyed merman could do anything he needed. Not to mention, if he married him, all those young girls of noble blood swarming around him, trying to get his attention to marry into a rich family, would finally leave him alone. He didn't dislike girls, nor their attention, but only if it came for the right reasons and not because of the reputation that came with the name 'Jones'.

"I'll take him as my wife." He decided. It was only a ring around his finger. No big deal. He would continue his life as usual.

The merchant pulled a scroll out of the depths of his bag, together with ink and a quill. He unrolled it and read the contents of it once more, before writing down the agreed price of 5000 gold coins and the status of a wife the merman would take as soon as sold. He handed the scroll and the quill to Alfred.

"Here, Master Jones. This is the contract. I need your signature here and also a signature on the copy of it I have here," he pulled out another scroll, "and then we're done."

Alfred took scroll and quill and read the contents of the contract.

CONTRACT

With this, the ownership of the merman Arthur Kirkland , a bearing type male, transfers to Alfred Foster Jones . The agreed price is 5000 gold coins. The purchaser takes the merman as wife . The merman bears the following values:

- fair skin

- bright green eyes

- slender and femine body and face

- green scales mixed with gold

- high birthing ability

- high fertility

- singer at the royal mermen court

- dancer at the royal mermen court

- high artistic talent

- well educated

Alfred raised an eyebrow and internally noted that if he ever were to sell the merman again, he could get a high price for him, even higher than the one he had paid. He signed at the bottom of the scroll, then signed the copy and handed it to the merchant. The merchant gave the workers a sign and they pulled the net with the merman inside out of the tank and carried him over. The merchant put shackles around his wrists, locked them and handed the key to Alfred with a sly grin.

"He's all yours now, Master Jones."

Alfred motioned for the staff he brought with him and they took the merman and carried him to the trailer, placing him in a tub filled with water and strapping him in so he stayed in place. Alfred watched the whole procedure before giving another sign. He got into his personal carriage, the workers in another one that was pulling the trailer. The coachman flicked the whip and they set off, back to the manor.

[sceawere]

stake out | michael gray

anon requested michael sneaking off to meet his girlfriend and the boys trying to find out where he’s going

"You can't honestly believe Michael would-"

"I don't know what to believe"

John settled back in the chair at Tommy's interruption, sighing, and swiped a hand over his hair. He rolled his eyes over the desk before looking back up and meeting his eyes again.

Tommy kept contact for just a moment before taking a last drag and stubbing out his smoke. He lifted from the chair, reaching for a scrap of paper as he moved. He kept his eyes to it as he travelled to the front of the desk, stopping before John's seat. He shuffled, fidgeting with his cap, unsettled with the whole conversation.

Tommy unfolded the paper, regarding it for a few seconds, before holding it out before him.

"I have an address"

"You've been having him followed?" John's tone was nearing outraged as he shuffled back from the paper. The proximity alone was poisonous.

Tommy kept his face flat, holding his arm still before him. The paper was pinched right at the edges as if he was trying to limit his own exposure to it. He motioned to it with his eyes, holding his words. John shook his head as he thought up his response.

"This is our cousin we're talking about, Tommy. Polly's blood"

"He works for this company. Like all the other men. We have to treat him as such in cases like this. He’s been going out on his own, staying out without explanation. It’s an avenue we have to explore. If it was anyone else, we’d already have checked them over"

"He's family" John was insistent.

"Everyone in this company is meant to be family. And yet someone is passing on information about our shipments to the Italians. We wouldn't be at war with the Italians if you-"

John turned his head, swallowing. Tommy paused and waited for him to turn back before he continued.

"If you hadn't-"

"So this is my punishment? Sniffing out the rat?" he interjected before he could be accused.

Tommy shook his head, tucking his tongue behind his teeth.

"It's not a punishment"

"Bloody feels like one. He's blood, Tommy"

"Yes, he's blood. Which is why I don't trust anyone else to check this out. Hmm?"

John lifted his eyes, unsure.

"Do you think I would send anyone else after him? Special circumstance, John. That means I'm relying on you to handle this"

John shuffled in the chair again, eyes fixed on the paper. Tommy folded it between his fingers, stepping forward to tuck it into John's pocket.

"Check the address. Don’t make me have to order you".

-

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Ta-

“Will you fucking stop?” John swung his head towards Arthur, restraining himself from elbowing him in the face.

“Sorry” Arthur murmured, pulling his hand down from the window. He cleared his throat, taking another wide look of the street through the windshield.

“I need a piss”

“Then go for one” John dropped his head back as he spoke, thoroughly bored and irritated. Three hours. Stuck in a shadowed car with Arthur. Staring at a closed door and a glowing window. He was going mad.

“What if they come out?”

“What, you shy now?”

He saw Arthur turn towards him out the corner of his eye before he opened the door and stepped out. The cold air made him wince as it hit against his ear and he reached up to turn up his collar. He had to lean his head forward to tuck the back up and when he settled back he realised the light had gone from the window while he wasn’t looking. He clocked the time on his watch, waiting.

Arthur appeared in the mirror a few minutes later, stumbling out of the alley. John cracked the door and leaned out on one leg.

“Rats the size of cats, I tell you”

John shook his head, pushing his body out of the confines fully. He tried to cushion the door closing, squinting as he clicked it back into place. Arthur shuffled up next to him, wrapping his coat back around himself.

“What’s happening?”

“Light’s off” he whispered back, tilting his head towards the row of houses. Arthur followed his eyes and reached for him own watch.

“How long?”

“Give it…10 minutes?”

Arthur nodded, tucking his watch back into place. They stepped back into the shadows and leant against the cool brick, sharing one last smoke as they waited for the time to pass.

A nod set them going and they stepped off the pavement to travel across the street. They passed through the alley between the rows of houses, counting fences to check they had the right house. They hopped the wall into the yard, landing in a bed of sprouting leaves. Arthur whispered an apology to the emerging plants, John shaking his head as he removed the package from his coat.

He opened the bundle, pulling out the strip of metal and settling it into the lock, shimming it into place and listening for a click. Arthur kept his eyes out as a dog barked somewhere on the row, echoes picking up off in the distance as they replied to each other in the dark. The door flicked open with a spring and John stuffed the bundle back into his pocket as he shouldered his way into the house.

They toed around as they went, surveying the scene. Through the little brick entry into the pantry, the kitchen, the living room. Dishes were drying on the counter. Bright white sheets gleamed in the low light, resting on dowels under the window. There was a snoring cat bundled up on the sofa. A picture of innocent domesticity. Not what he was expecting.

John raised a brow, turning back over his shoulder to Arthur. He shrugged, moving towards the stairs. John flung an arm out, catching the edge of his coat.

“It’s just a house”

“Yeah”

“We got the wrong one. We must have”

Arthur stepped down, moving towards the door. He cracked the lace that covered the high window, pushed onto his toes to survey the street better.

“No. Right house. Got to be, look where the car is”

John scowled, turning on the spot to check the room out again. There had to be something here. A gun safe. A pile of cash. Suspicious packages tucked into the cabinets. Something. It couldn’t just be a house.

“This doesn’t make sense. Why would Michael be coming here if he was the one passing info on?” he whispered into the shadows as he cracked drawers, wincing as they scraped against their wooden tracks.

“God knows. I’m checking upstairs”

“Yeah, be careful”

John carried on about his work, lifting the fabric covering the lower shelves, inspecting the stacks of books and board game boxes. He ran an eye over the plates in the glass display, the little figurines littering the mantle. The clock ticked away, a nice one, fancy. He sighed, tucking his hands in his pockets. He moved his eyes over towards the window, a glint on the floor catching his eye.

He hadn’t noticed them before because of where the chair had been, blocking his view by the angle. Little model trains, lined up next to tracks that were elaborately curving over each other. There was a section missing, abandoned at bedtime probably. He smiled to himself, hearing Joe’s protests in his head as his mum insisted it was bath time, damn the urgency of his plan for the third line to open up travel to the sofa and back. His smile dropped as he realised.

There was a kid in this house. A kid about his son’s age. A kid who liked to play with trains and who was probably lying in their bed upstairs.

He hadn’t paid any attention to the little creaks coming from the landing above him, assuming it was Arthur. But when he turned towards the stairs to warn him and saw the little eyes poking through the slats at him, he stalled. Just long enough to allow them the time to open their mouth and take in a deep breath.

“No, no, wait, I-“

He barely had his hands out of his pockets when they let out an almighty scream, launching themselves back up the stairs.

“Fuck!” John took off after them, flinging himself around the bannister and taking the steps two at a time. The landing light was on before he made it up there and he turned to meet a gun pointed at him.

“John?”

A click came from behind him and he hoped it was Arthur that was emerging from the shadows in his periphery and not another occupant of the house.

“Arthur?”

“Oh. Michael”

John turned his head towards Arthur’s voice, keeping his hands up in surrender. He was tucking his gun back into his holster, his tone as though he’d walked into his room without asking and not broken into a house and pointed a gun at him.

“Michael?”

He lowered his gun as he turned his head towards where a woman was leaning out of a doorway. John looked down to see the kid hovering by her shins, tucked half into the room. He tried to give the least threatening smile he could, bouncing on the balls of his feet awkwardly. Polly was going to batter him.

“It’s alright” Michael reached out his hand as he spoke and she lifted hers to meet his grasp. He stepped close to her, whispering.

“It’s my cousins”

She rolled her eyes, sighing in relief. She bent, pressing a kiss into the little girl’s hair.

“Sorry for uh…scaring you miss. And…little one” Arthur stuttered out, making Michael turn his head with a look of disgust and confusion.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

-

The teapot slammed down before them, sloshing out of the spout a little. John raised his eyes to meet her acid gaze, giving a clipped smile. She rolled her eyes again as she stepped away, turning the gas off and lifting the little girl down off the counter.

“Tommy really thought it was me?” Michael kept his eyes to the tablecloth, finger flicking at the lace panel.

He looked pissed, his jaw rolling and clenching. He turned his head as the little girl pushed a chair closer to his, scrabbling up onto it. His face melted at once, smiling at her as he lifted his arm to let her snuggle into his side.

She turned her eyes to meet Arthurs, staring him down with a look that would be stern coming from a grown woman, never mind a kid. He smirked, moving his gaze from her to his brother, who was quickly taking a sip of his tea. He turned back as a tin was dropped in front of him, a sickly sweet smile accompanying it.

“Didn’t know if you’d like a biscuit or not”

So, she gets that look from her mother then. He cleared his throat and sat forward to lift the lid, considering his options. The woman moved to lean on the back of Michael’s chair, hands gripping at the wood.

“Not those ones”

He dropped the biscuit, eyes lifting from the tin to the table, not risking meeting her gaze. He pulled the lid back over, pushing the tin towards the little girl. A gesture of goodwill. Arthur reached a hand out to pull it back towards him but John made sure to intercept it and tuck it back under the table.

“Oh, right, yeah. Probably best I don’t, actually” Arthur responded, settling back awkwardly.

“How did he know to send you here? I was careful” Michael moved from where he’d been looking up at the woman to meet John’s gaze.

“I was handed a piece of paper. Basic address. That’s all I know” he lifted his tea to take a sip when he finished.

“Arthur?”

Arthur lifted his hands.

“I just did was I was told this time, Michael”

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their tea, avoiding each other’s gazes.

“You like trains?” John nodded his head towards the doorway into the living room.

The woman lowered a hand to rest on the little girl’s hair, staring John down. She replied with a careful nod, sitting up so she could reach out for the tin of biscuits. She swung her head at the last second, arms grasping in place, to check her mother’s reaction. The woman gave her a wink and she turned back with a smile, surveying the offering. She lifted one of the ones that John had been denied and he smiled to himself, watching her tuck in.

“My son likes trains” he told her, smiling at her as she looked up, crumbs collecting on the front of her pyjamas.

“George or Joe?”

He frowned a little as she bit off another chunk, keeping his gaze.

“Joe. How’d you know?” he nodded to her as he spoke.

“Mikey told me. John’s sons are George, and Joe, and Will. But Will’s only little. So not him. And if Tommy’s the bossy one, Arthur’s got a moustache, and John’s the naughty one, then you’re John?” she rolled her eyes around the ceiling as she spoke, rattling off what she could remember, before taking another bite.

He looked over to Michael, arm still slung over the back of her chair.

“Yeah, that’s me. Which one’s ‘Mikey’ then, if I’m the naughty one? He tell you that?” John made sure to point as he questioned her.

“The smart one” she smiled as she licked the chocolate off her fingers and he and Arthur let out a little laugh at her.

“Sounds about right, sweetheart” Arthur sat forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on the table.

“I would never-“

“We know, Michael”

“But you came here?”

“We had to. Tommy’s orders” Arthur added.

John tapped his finger against the cup, watching them stare each other down.

“He’s paranoid. After everything with the Italians”

Michael moved his gaze to John.

“And whose faults that?”

The woman moved her hand down to grip at his shoulder and he settled slightly.

Arthur cleared his throat and tried to break the tension.

“So this is where you’ve been sneaking off then, eh, Michael?” he joked.

“He’s not been doing anything dodgy. I asked him to keep this quiet”

The woman moved around to the girl’s side, perching on the side of her chair. She sighed as she settled down, lifting her arm to lay over Michael’s on the chair. They framed the girl’s head, encapsulating her.

“I know enough about your family to know I don’t need to know anymore at the moment” she turned her gaze from her child to the brothers, eyebrow lifted and nodding to them. They nodded back, understanding her.

“Me and Michael have made an agreement that when this-“she lifted her hand lazily, motioning in the air between her and Michael “becomes something else then…we work something out. But I’m her mother before I’m his girlfriend and my responsibility is to make the best choices according to that. I’m not entirely sure of how much I trust you yet, and to be honest, tonight didn’t help”

“If we would have known, we would have never…” John trailed off, his apology falling flat before he’d even made it, so he gave up and changed tack “You’re a good mum”

“Yeah, well” she licked her lips, meeting his gaze softly for the first time “from what I’ve heard, you’re a half decent dad”

He gave her a slow smile, poking his tongue out at the little girl as she reached for another biscuit.

“I said one, Clara”

“No, you didn’t” Clara replied, hand still rooting in the tin for another of her favourites, torso fully on the table, legs swinging and hitting the back of the chair. Her mother shook her head, lifting the lid off the table top. She waited for her to pull her hand back, hovering, ready to snap it down the second her little fingers were free.

“Only because you need the sugar for the shock”

“I am sorry about that, Clara” John leaned forward to her “I didn’t mean to scare you. I hope you can forgive me”

“I do” she smiled back at him.

“Yeah, sorry, little one. We didn’t know you and your mum were here” Arthur added.

“You broke into our house”

“We…did. Yeah”

“Well then you should have expected it!”

She turned to Michael, handing him the half of her biscuit she hadn’t finished. He took it from her and ate it in one bite. She lifted to her knees and shuffled towards him a little more.

“Right, little bug. Back to bed” he reached to wrap around her torso and she whined as he stood.

“Wait!” he turned back as she reached towards the men, her mother dotting a kiss to her head as she passed through the doorway to turn the hall light back on for them.

“Does this mean I get to meet Katie now?”

John turned in his chair, eyes flicking to Michael and back to her. He kept his elbow on the back of the chair, tipping his head to scratch at his ear.

“Uh...yeah. We can ask your mum?”

Her little eyes lit up as Michael sighed and began to march her off towards the stairway.  “Cool!”

“Nora! We need to talk about the weekend”

-

[varietydisco]

Delicate, Petite & Other Things I’ll Never Be

Characters: Hosea Matthews & Arthur Morgan & Dutch van der Linde Rating: Teen and Up Tags: Pre-Canon, Family dynamics, Trans Male Characters Word Count: 2k

Description: Hosea and Dutch teach Arthur how to shave. (Namesake: Delicate, Petite & Other Things I’ll Never Be by Against Me!)

Part 2 of the Coming of Age series

1880

The sun was already well above the tree-line when Arthur came stumbling out of his tent. Sat next to the smoldering remains of their fire, Hosea glanced up from the pages of his newspaper and knocked Dutch’s knee to catch his attention.

“Would you look at that. It’s finally awake.”

Dutch looked up from his own book to watch Arthur stumble his way across the campground. He scratched the back of his messy bed hair and made no attempt to catch his sagging long johns.

“Well, good morning, mister Morgan!” Dutch called. He had a shit-eating grin as he balanced his tin coffee cup on his opposite knee. “I hope you and that rat on your lip slept well.”

Arthur grumbled as he slunk by. He was about seventeen, eighteen now and somehow still growing taller by the day; a running joke around camp was that they’d have to keep a close eye on him, lest someone try to track him and sell him as a bigfoot curiosity. Arthur might not have found the jokes funny outwardly, but Hosea could only imagine he was tickled deep down with his changing body. Puberty was a tough thing to go through once, and much less a second time, though it was more rewarding, Hosea thought.

Bearing that in mind, Hosea rustled the page of his newspaper and said to Dutch, “Maybe we shouldn’t tease him so badly.”

Arthur staggered to an old barrel laying around. It had partially filled with rain overnight, so he stuck his face down into it and splashed himself. Immediately, he made a surprised, sputtering noise.

“Augh, fuck!”

Dutch snorted. He turned his lopsided grin to Hosea. “He just makes it so easy sometimes.”

Dutch then leaned back in his chair and called out, “It is early April, mister Morgan. Water tends to be very cold when it’s been sitting out all night.”

“If you got up earlier, you could have had a nice warm bath,” Hosea tossed in. He glanced to the side and shared a grin with Dutch.

Arthur, shivering and grumbling unpleasantries, continued to splash in the barrel; when he was done, he staggered his way towards the fire pit. Arthur came to stand at Dutch’s side, letting the weak warmth wash over him. He cleared his throat and tugged up the bottom of his undershirt to wipe his face. A thickening trail of hair lead up from the band of his long johns to his navel.

Dutch pursed his lips in a smirk, then reached out and slapped Arthur’s belly.

“Hurry up and get dressed, we’ve got business in town today. And do something about that mange on your face.”

Arthur jolted immediately. He gave both Dutch and Hosea a dirty look when Hosea choked back a laugh.

“What do you mean by that?” Arthur asked. His voice was deep, and raspy.

“I mean,” Dutch reiterated. “Do something about that awful thing on your lip, because we are gentlemen from Chicago today, looking to sell some stocks. Our friend here, Viktor Barry—” Dutch waved his coffee cup towards Hosea for emphasis, “—knows some big men on the inside of some very successful companies that are about to hit the big time, so the going’s gonna get good.”

Dutch sat himself up straight and cockily adjusted his waistcoat. “And while Hosea does that, you and I are going to clean out everything we can find at the mayor’s office. Because my sources tell me that he is proper scum.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Arthur grumbled. He readjusted his clothes and warmed his hands instead by the fire. “But what does this have to do with my beard?”

“What’s wrong is that it ain’t a beard,” Dutch laughed. “We are men of high society, Tacitus, and men of high society don’t walk around looking like they’ve got pubes stuck to their chin.”

“Be nice, now,” Hosea cut in. “He’s spent a long while working on those whiskers.”

“Exactly.” Arthur agreed.

Hosea turned his eyes back to his paper. “Regardless, you still need to shave, Arthur.”

Arthur’s head snapped back towards them both. Dutch snickered.

“What? How come?”

Hosea glanced up and looked over Arthur. His facial hair was patchy, dark in some places to match his hair and lighter in others where it was still growing in. Mostly, it was across his upper lip and spread around his chin. In looking at it, one could only hope that it would grow in proper later.

“Because it isn’t very becoming of you right now. And I understand that you are awful proud of your progress, but you will have fifty, sixty years more to grow as many beards as you like. If we’re going to sell the picture of high society today...”

Hosea gave Arthur another hard once-over. Arthur self-consciously straightened his back and his shoulders.

“...You can’t look like you’ve just wandered out of the woods.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. He brushed his fingers through his hair and worked the knots out of it. “You know, I think you’s just jealous ‘cause you can’t grow a beard, Hosea, so you’re tryin’ to take the joy outta mine.”

Dutch didn’t even try to hide his laughter. His voice cracked with it as he knocked Hosea’s knee.

“I can’t tell you what’s funnier— the fact that he’s right, or that he thinks that thing’s a beard.”

“Give him a wallop for me, will ya?” Hosea said.

“Oh, with pleasure.”

Before Arthur could protest, Dutch swung his hand out to smack Arthur’s belly again. Arthur skipped to the side, and Dutch caught his hip instead.

“Leave me alone!” Arthur grunted.

“Not until you go get cleaned up,” Dutch replied. He swatted at Arthur’s hip while the younger shifted away. “Now hop to it, son; we’re burning daylight.”

                                                     —30—

When the last of the coffee had been drunk and Arthur showed no signs of return, Hosea offered to go check on him. In passing, Hosea spoke with Bessie and Annabelle, who were quietly talking amongst themselves, but neither had seen Arthur come through to get his fresh clothes off the line. Taking that in stride, Hosea went for the boy’s tent.

Sure enough, Arthur was there. He leaned in close to the shabby mirror propped up, his face covered in shaving soap. Awkwardly, he came in at his jaw from the side with a straight razor, trying to find a proper angle to cut at, maybe.

Hosea got nervous just watching him for that moment, so he asked, “What are you trying to do? Slit your throat?”

Arthur jumped at the sudden voice. The razor slipped out of his hand and nicked his chin, before falling on the ground. He hissed, clutching his jaw, as he whipped around to look at Hosea.

“The hell’s the matter with you?” Arthur demanded. A small trickle of blood slipped over his fingers. “You can’t just... Come up behind someone like that.”

“Well, by the way you were holding that thing, I thought you were trying to get out of our errands.”

Under the foaming soap spread across his cheeks, Arthur flushed red. He plucked the razor from the ground with a grumble.

The whole shaving set had been a birthday gift from Hosea for his last birthday, since his facial hair had finally started setting in. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now Hosea was starting to wonder if he’d made the wrong choice. Something a little less hazardous might have been better suited.

Arthur took the razor over to his washing bowl and rinsed it off. He kept his eyes trained forward the whole time; even as he poised himself in front of the mirror, he focused on his own face and refused to acknowledge Hosea. Blood from his cut seeped down over his chin and mixed pink with the shaving soap.

Eventually, his eyes darted to one side. “A little privacy would be nice.”

Hosea didn’t move. He watched for a couple beats as Arthur awkwardly tried to scrape his cheek with the razor, before speaking up himself.

“You don’t know how to shave, do you?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes and gave a mean look to the mirror.

“It’s not hard. I’ll figure it out.”

Hosea stepped fully into the tent and snatched the razor out of Arthur’s hand. Arthur turned to protest, but Hosea was a little quicker. He safely flipped the razor shut, set it down on the stand, then grabbed a ratty towel to shove at Arthur’s face.

“I wasn’t even trying to make fun of you that time,” Hosea informed him. “Stop that bleeding first of all, and listen close. Going the way you was, you would have flayed yourself.”

Arthur made a face as he pressed the towel to his bleeding chin.

“Now look here,” Hosea said. He picked the razor up again and flipped it open. “Hold it like this, not like you’re about to skin an animal. You want complete control over the blade, so you don’t slip and cut yourself. Again.”

Hosea smirked. Arthur failed to see the humour in his statement.

“And what you’re going to do is work downwards from the top...” For emphasis, Hosea scraped the edge of the blade carefully down his cheekbone. “Slow and steady, careful. Which I know is hard for a blockhead like you, but please try.”

Arthur, despite looking sour and annoyed, quietly observed everything Hosea did.

Over the past year, his temper had burned out a bit; when they first brought Arthur in, he was quick to the defense and quicker to fight. Nowadays, while he still had that sharp edge to his personality and tone sometimes, he was a lot more reigned in, thankfully.

Hosea shifted his grasp on the handle to hold the razor out to Arthur. He nodded towards it.

“Give it a go, just how I showed you.”

Arthur lowered the towel from his face and exchanged it with the razor. “Thanks,” he muttered.

Turned back towards the mirror, Arthur raised the razor and worked it across his cheek, slow and unsure. Hosea watched from beside his shoulder, nodding all the while.

“There you go. So easy, even an oaf lacking in grace like yourself can do it.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Hosea.”

The cut on Arthur’s chin slowed to a dribble. A little bit of blood still trickled down, curling under Arthur’s chin and to his neck.

Hosea smirked. He licked his thumb, then wiped it across the cut.

Arthur winced and jerked away.

“Gross, Hosea!”

Hosea laughed at Arthur’s reaction as he drew back.

“I don’t know how you managed it, but that’s a fairly clean cut; it might even leave a scar. How lucky for you.”

Arthur took half a step away from Hosea, giving him a dirty look out of the corner of his eye. He continued to shave his cheeks, slowly becoming more confident in his movements. When Arthur got close to his jawline, Hosea made an upwards sweeping motion under his own jaw.

“Like this, when you get to it.” Hosea said. “Careful going over your chins.”

Arthur’s lips twitched into an unwilling smile. He did as told and shifted his tactics to scrape up under his jaw.

Hosea watched his movements carefully. If nothing else, Arthur was a quick learner, so he knew there would be nothing to worry about. Hosea’s eyes slid around the mirror to look over Arthur’s shoulder when Dutch poked his head in through the tent door.

“What’s taking so long?” He asked.

“We’re teaching Artie here to shave,” Hosea filled him in. Arthur’s cheeks flushed, and he cleared his throat. “So far so good. Aside from one minor injury.”

Dutch nodded knowingly. He took on a grin. “Wouldn’t be Arthur if there wasn’t at least that.”

Dutch invited himself inside more. Arthur continued to scrape away his whiskers, his eyes following Dutch in the mirror as he came around to his right side.

“...How far down do I go?” Arthur asked, his voice deep and soft.

“To your Adam’s apple,” Dutch offered, as he laid a heavy hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“He hasn’t got one,” Hosea corrected him.

“Oh, well.” Dutch poked his finger into the middle of Arthur’s throat. “To here.”

Arthur nodded a little. Despite how embarrassing it was to have them poking, prodding, and quipping at him, it was nice to have the guidance. Kind of.

“Isn’t this something?” Dutch eventually said. “What a fine, tender moment between us all.”

Hosea pinched Arthur’s cheek. “Little Arthur’s all grown up now.”

Hosea and Dutch shared a laugh. Red to his ears, Arthur swatted at them both.

“Alright, alright, I think I’ve got a handle on this. Y’all can leave now.”

“I think we’ve embarrassed him, Dutch.”

Dutch gave a raspy laugh. “I think you’re right.”

After a quick pause, Dutch added, “We ought to get Annabelle to bring her camera over and snap a few pictures.” Arthur flushed, and Hosea laughed while Dutch went for the tent door, leaned out, and hollered, “Annabelle! Get over here!”

This, Arthur thought, was what made a family: the ability to so quickly and deeply embarrass the youngest party.

But as Annabelle joined them in his tent, soon followed by Bessie and Susan, too, all of them talking and joking and laughing, Arthur thought that, well…

It wasn’t so bad.