#This ones a long one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gingersp1ce547 · 3 months ago

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Thiago was not expecting to be dad. Not now, nor anytime in the future. He knew how he was, and the life he led. Neither of which were suited for parenthood even though since his own father passed the idea of what kind of one he would be refused to leave his head.

Would he be able to give them half as good as a childhood as the one his father gave him? Would he leave them grieving and wondering how much of their father they knew like he did?

Should someone that shot a 15 year old in the foot be trusted with a child at all?

In the end these questions didn’t matter. Because he had a kid now and she was a sentient egg.

Fortunately, his work on the island was much less dangerous than it was back in brazil. So he could bring hope with him on his daily rounds. She seemed to like it a lot, which was a good thing because he wasn’t sure what he would do with her if she didnt other than leave her in the house with cesar but she spent more than enough time with the hacker already.

Before they had learned what liz had been up to and saved hope, thiago had been spending a lot of time with one badboyhalo. After he had saved dapper bad insisted on giving him a gift, which ended up being a whole thing of enchanted gear. He took some of it but he kept a couple pieces of his old set that liz and cesar had enchanted on, and the rest in an unsorted chest somewhere in his room like everything else he couldn’t get rid of.

He kept hanging around bad after that. Mostly because he was a real good source of information on pretty much everything happening on the island, but also because something he said to Thiago once wouldn’t seem to leave his mind.

Bad was asking about what thiago did before the island, around a month into their stay here they decided it would be ok to tell people the truth as long as they didn’t go into too much detail, so he did. Only for bad to reply “why would somebody marked by death want to fight her creatures?”

“What?”

Bad tiled his head like some kind of owl. His pure white eyes staring through thiago from under his hood. “Or at least i think it’s death. Maybe not our goddess but something similar.”

He looked thiago up and down once more. “Do you not feel it?”

The urge to throw off his hoodie and run to the nearest mirror to double check that the symbol of that fucking place was still gone was tempting. But thiago knew he didnt need it. He knew what it was like for his hand to not be his hand and this wasn’t it.

He shook his head, forcing his tongue to move from where it had glued itself to the top of his mouth, “No.”

Bad made a noise of curiosity in response but moved on. Thiago wasn’t sure if it was out of noticing his discomfort or something else entirely but he thanked the change of pace.

Unfortunately, the fact that he even got that bit of information in the first place meant he needed to go back and continue to prod for more

So far hed gotten out of bad that only the rest of team was “marked” like this. Some clearly were by an entity like thiago, cesar and arthur (bad upset about blood), but with joui and liz it was unclear. Same went for the mark itself, which bad described as almost being fuzzy. Like fog was obscuring his vision of it.

He was pretty sure that this was all bad knew, but bad was bad and liked to be a tricky little shit. One of his coworkers once wrote an article just for fun about creatures from folklore across the world. He was bored on his break and read it which was a good thing because he was not unconvinced that bad wasnt some sort of Irish fae creature. It definitely wouldn’t be the strangest thing a person was on the island (that was etoiles).

Even if bad didnt know anything else about their team, he definitely knew a lot about what happened on island, Especially when it came to politics, or as liz liked to call it, a telenovela pretending to be politics. Which was a blessing in disguise as it made writing about it much less boring on thiago’s part.

Hope was with him today since her quests had already been completed for the week. They bounced across the map as he handed out the latest information about the islands happenings as well as gathered it.

Cellbit and roier were off being sickeningly romantic somewhere and hope asked very politely if she could go say hi to him. Not that thiago would ever say to no to something asked as sweetly as that, he told her yes since Cellbit was technically also her dad even if it was only like 5% since he helped in the investigation to find her.

They then headed to pierre’s to restock on some potions, only to find him and maximus… maybe arguing? Thiago wasnt really sure but it could have also been flirting, or manipulation. It could go many many different ways with those two and honestly even though it was his job to know, thiago didnt wanna know. Neither did he want hope to have to witness it. So he quickly sweeped her up into his arms and turned back around to the teleporter.

She gave him a look of silent curiosity but didn’t ask. He was thankful for it today as opposed to usual worriedness. She had been alone in one spot for so long, and had so much curiosity about the world. Thaigo (and the rest for the team) wanted her to be cautious of the what she was getting into yes, but he also wanted her to feel safe enough to be able to run up to a flower she liked without asking if it was ok first.

Deciding to foster her curiosity at the cost of having to try and find a child friendly way to explain whatever the fuck pierre and max had going on, he told her that they were having a private conversation that he didnt want to interrupt. Hope, who knew all about private conversations because of her secretive ass parents, nodded seriously at this and thaigo took a mental note to explain to her at some point that not all private conversations were matters of life and death.

Next they headed to bad’s, who thaigo knew had a good stock of potions he wouldn’t mind missing if it meant keeping an egg safe. He wasnt there and a look at the map told him he was off on some adventure with dapper most likely in search of creature that the kid wanted to tame.

There was a couple other people awake but he really didnt feel like crossing thousands of blocks to go and find them, so instead the two wandered about spawn. Hope taking the lead and investigating the different buildings up close. She already knew at this point that her pais and mae where not the people to ask about how crafting materials worked and seemed happy just to silently investigate.

In the past he would have expected it to be a good break from taking care of a kid, a time to collect his thoughts. Instead he just watched her and his heart felt warm. No thoughts of the what he was gonna write about next, or how everyone back in brazil was doing drifted through his head. All he could focus on was the way hope would walk up to block, completely transfixed by it, bend down to get a look at it better, maybe tilt her head or touch it lightly before moving on to the next one.

Or at least it was all he could focus on till a sound caught his attention. Mentally, he praised the fact that his still functioning ear worked perfectly if not better than that before turning to look in the direction of the sound. In it’s place he saw “charlie” slimecicle teleporting off somewhere.

This was odd for a couple of reasons. The first being that slime did not wake up often. The second was that when he did he usually hanged around big groups of people and the third was that thiago wasnt sure where he got enough exp to teleport in the first place.

Ok, maybe that last one was a stretch but still. Call it investogators intuition or whatever you want but there was something odd happening here and thaigo wanted to know what.

A light tug on his pants brought him out of his head. He read hope’s sign pai, who was that?

“He’s another islander my dear” he replied

She broke the sign before placing down another, Where is he going?

“Most likely home”

Hope stared at him. It was a stare she most definitely learned from cesar and liz because it screamed bullshit

“He really could be going home,” hope’s stare persisted in intensity “buuuuuuuuut your instinct is right. Theres something fishy about this. I feel it too”

Are you gonna go check? she didnt have to write the and can i come for thiago to know she was thinking it.

“Yep. Do you wanna go teleport to pai cellbits and go hang out with him and tio roier while i do?”

I can go there if you want.

He frowned. A sentence like that was the hope equivalent of saying no. She was just too afraid to say that was what she actually wanted.

Still. There was a possibility, however slim, that whatever awaited them on the other side of that waystone was dangerous. If something ever happened to her and thiago knew he could have prevented it he wasnt sure what he would do with himself outside of that it wasn’t good.

He had a enough innocent peoples blood on his hands already, but to have a child’s?

You don’t know if there were any children in the holy cradle, a voice whispered. It swirled around his ears and even though the non-functioning one was well non-functioning, he swore he could almost hear in it and yet you burned them all the same.

Now wasn’t the time for thoughts like this. Hope was still waiting for a reply and who knew what slime was doing.

“You can come with if you promise you’ll teleport away when i tell you too”

Hope beamed up at him nodding vigorously before placing a sign down quickly writing I promise! And then beginning to run over to the waystone excitedly.

“Woah woah woah slow down my dear!” He called out after her. Once he caught up he added “let me go first and hold my hand the whole time.”

Trying to contain her excitement hope gave one strong nod. It seemed to be an attempt at showing she was serious.

Smiling at this and taking her hand into his, thiago and hope teleported to charlie’s base

There wasn’t much there outside of a small shack which thiago assumed was Charlie’s house. The two investigating the outside area a bit before thiago used his still functioning ear to listen to the door. After hearing nothing inside, the two carefully proceeded to enter the building with thiago leading the way.

He didnt notice anything odd at first glance until hope gently tugged his hand in the direction of something, a small opening made of dirt.

Traveling into it, they found a large cavern filled with various plants and some sort of train system. Ignoring it, thiago and hope stealthily made their way down till they could see charlie standing in front of what seemed to be. a house. Only, he wasn’t alone.

There was an egg with him. One that thiago hadn’t seen before.

Grabbing a sign of hopes he had stored away he wrote out do you know them? Before breaking it and passing the back sign to hope.

No, Was the response he got. So not another test subject egg, which meant considering how Charlie was treating this egg (with warmth and excitement), they were most likely Charlie’s egg.

Only issue was that Charlie’s egg, juanaflippa if thiago remembered right, had died months ago.

“Stay right here,” thiago whispered to hope before giving a light kiss to her head and letting go of her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

Hope nodded and stayed in her spot as thiago got closer and focused his eyes on the outline of this egg. It was times like this that he missed the range of his gun but sword and shield would have to do.

The dead don’t come back. Thiago had known this as fact since the day he learned about the “airplane crash.” But it wasn’t till he joined the order that he learned the second half of the statement.

The dead don’t come back, so when they do. It’s not them anymore. Whether that meant they were a hallucination or a creature, thiago wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was the fact that he wouldn’t let slime be killed by whatever was pretending to wear his child’s face.

Thiago jumped down ready to strike but just as he did, the egg ran back into the house with Charlie sprinting after them, leaving thiago’s sword stuck in the ground. Cursing, he ran after them, only to see the egg disappear into specks of code as Charlie cried out for it.

Code meant code monsters. Thiago was not prepared for code monsters, he was prepared for paranormal bullshit even though none had ever appeared on this island before.

Regardless, he needed to write all of this down while it was still fresh on his mind. It didn’t matter if this wasn’t paranormal, it was still dangerous even if that danger had momentarily passed.

So, thiago turned and quietly walked out the house, back to hope and then the two teleported back home.

Pai, hope wrote upon arriving what was that?

Thiago bite his lip. God what he wouldn’t give for a cigarette right now.

“We’ll figure it out.” He crouched down to her level “So for now let’s not worry about it. Okay my dear?”

Worry crossed over hope’s face for a split second, and it landed sharp like a stab in thiago’s chest.

“This scar?” Arnaldo said pointing at a long scar that wrapped around his upper arm. Usually it was hidden by long sleeve shirts but he had rolled those up to be able to kneed the dough of the bread he was making, “It’s just from a stunt that i messed up once. Nothing to worry about my dear”

Thiago took a deep breath in. No nicotine hit his lungs but the oxygen worked just fine. “How about this? I’ll let you know everything new i learn about this case. After all i need an expert on eggs, and who’s a better expert than the best egg on the island?”

Hope looked down at her feet bashfully, but with a glow of praise, “you promise?”

Extending out his pinky finger, thiago smiled gently, “of course my dear.”

Hope wrapped her own around it, and the promise was sealed.

#this ones a long one #im sorry i got distracted by arnaldo and thaigo’s relationship #something that happens very often #opqsmpau #gingersp1ce547 #thiago fritz #hope the egg #qsmp hope

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the-haunted-blog · 1 month ago

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Haunted Part: 1

Chapter 2: Cowboys and Devils

Arthur rubbed his eyes. After a moment of blinking, the world had stopped revolving. The last few seconds flashed in his mind. The tall figure at the other end of the room stared impassively. The friendly smile on his face was little more than a mocking mask. The false smile widened, displaying more pointed teeth. “Micah? oh, you mean that one,” The man spoke casually. “He won’t be joining us, I’m afraid,” He dipped his head in a sigh.

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Arthur growled. The sombre façade vanished without a trace from the man’s demeanor at the sight of Arthur’s struggle to withhold his temper. A devilish smirk replaced the forlorn expression he had worn moments ago. Arthur clenched his jaw. The pressure caused the ache in his head to flare up once more.

“What’d you do?” Arthur demanded through gritted teeth, sounding like a rabid dog. The man leaned back on his heels, his black curls bobbing along as he swayed his arms, tilting back and forth on his feet like a bored child. “The more appropriate question would be where are we? or better yet, who am I?” The man gestured to the small room around them and then to himself. He paused, tilting his head to the side in a show of contemplation, “Although, I suppose it is relatively pointless to ask me, in the end, the answers will appear whether or not the question was ever asked,” He shrugged in satisfaction at his own realisation, still rocking on his heels as he spoke. “As to Micah not being present, that is because, unlike you, he isn’t dead,” The man stated. Arthur stared blankly at the man, wondering how hard he had hit his head to hallucinate so vividly.

The man was oblivious to Arthur’s confusion, continuing in a light, cheery tone. “Well, he will officially be dead in roughly...” He made a show of counting on his fingers, holding up odd amounts in no clear order. He smiled at Arthur, holding both hands splayed out, “forty minutes.”

Arthur blocked out the man’s circus act, staring at the space between them. He searched through his memory, trying to find what had led him to wake up in such a situation. His mind was blank, he could scarcely recall the last week. The man idly clapped his hands, Arthur tensed at the noise. The man was swaying his arms, clapping them quietly together at the peak of their arcs, he stared in the vague direction of Arthur, seemingly caught up in his ramblings.

“If the difference in time flow is taken into consideration, he will be dead in the next thirty years, give or take a couple of decades,” he shrugged, “the conversion between the time zones is a tad bit imprecise, I usually ignore the details anyway, in the end, you all wind up where you belong,” the man's scarlet eyes fixed directly on Arthur; he flashed an unnerving, wolf-like smile. Arthur glared at the man. A cunning monster playing the role of the unassuming fool.

The man idly paced around the small space as he spoke, arms folded behind his back, “you Mortals have such fleeting lives, I really cannot comprehend it,” the man tilted his head to the side, smiling at nothing. “It sure is amusing to me though, it’s always a good laugh to see the new souls panic, a lot of you seem to struggle with the simple concept of eternity.” The man chuckled softly as if he had heard a joke. Arthur understood less and less the more he heard.

“Anyway, no need to worry about any of that, or of Micah, since you won’t be seeing him again any time soon, if ever, depending on where he ends up once he expires,” The man spoke casually, glancing at Arthur as he walked. Arthur stared blankly at the man, utterly confused to the meaning behind half of what he had heard. The only important part he focused on was that the deluded fool knew who Micah was. The man stopped a mere millimeter in front of the wall opposite Arthur. “Want to see something interesting?” he looked over his shoulder at Arthur. Rather than accept the reality that it was a solid wall and there was no exit to the room, the man defied all reason and put his foot through the wall as if it wasn’t there. The bounds of reality, along with the solid material of the wall, melted into a black smoke-like substance that dissipated; leaving nothing but a pure white space where the wall had once existed. Arthur watched the very room he was in melt and vanish into solid white. He would have panicked, but he was too preoccupied, watching his understanding of reality be shattered by the man calmly strolling through the endless white as if it was his house. The man snapped his fingers like a stage performer.

The black smoke snaked out from under the man’s shoes, clinging to his heels like a loyal dog as he walked. The white world swirled with the black smoke as the man spun on his heel to face Arthur, his scarlet eyes almost glowing in stark contrast against the monochrome tones around them. The black smoke swirled, for a fleeting moment, warped wings of ink unfurled behind the man; a poor facsimile of an angel. With only a sharp flick of his wrist, the swirling of black and white stilled and from it came a flood of grey which washed over everything. The man snapped his fingers, and the grey receded like the tide, rushing back into his shadow. Arthur was left sitting dumbstruck on the floor, but instead of a brightly lit box, he was surrounded by a dimly lit room with bookcases covering every last centimeter of wall. The dark cherry wood that made up the floor was real, from what Arthur could tell, it felt real as anything. The only light in the room emanated from a small lamp on a grand mahogany desk at the back of the room, directly opposite Arthur. The green glass covering gave the room a faint sickly green tint. Beside the lamp was an ornate silver stag with scarlet gems for eyes, the same shade as the man’s. Arthur looked up beyond the desk to see that same man staring at him with an almost amused expression on his face. The man kicked his legs up onto the desk and reclined in an overly decorated cherry wood and velvet cushioned chair. The line between chair and throne was blurred, the gold and silver inlaid into the head of the chair in intricate symbols and patterns provoked the idea of a royal’s throne, but the physical design was that of a mundane chair, if not, a fancy one belonging to an aristocrat.

“You know you can stand up, right?” The man asked rhetorically. His smile was impossibly wide like a hyena’s. Kill or be killed was the rule of beasts and Arthur, like all people, was little more than a cornered dog afraid of death, biting indiscriminately at every hand. “Best start explainin’ yourself or I’ll send you straight to hell!” Arthur threatened, his words slurring in his anger. He sprang up off the floor and moved in fast, steady strides towards the smiling man. His right hand went to the faded leather holster at his hip in one fluid motion. It was ingrained into his muscle memory. Instead of the familiar cold steel of his revolver, his hand found only air. Arthur halted his rage-fueled crusade midway. He stood directly in front of the desk with the man lazily reclining in his chair. Arthur's eyes snapped down to his belt to find not only his revolver missing, but his hunting knife as well. Even his satchel was devoid of its contents. He was defenseless. His eyes flicked back to see the man smile at him. Arthur snatched the silver stag from the desk and hurled it, aiming at the man’s head. It was only mere millimeters off connecting when the stag combusted into blindingly vibrant emerald flames that consumed until nothing remained of the stag, not even ash.

“Calm down, there’s no need to get violent, is there?” The man sounded amused. “Besides, cowboy, if I honestly had any intention of harming you, I would have done so already,” It was said in a surprisingly friendly tone, but it was clear as day to Arthur that this was a threat and one that he had no doubt, this man for all his false smiles and calm demeanor, would not hesitate to go through with. “I've heard breathing helps to calm you humans down when your fickle emotions start getting out of hand, maybe give it a go?” The man suggested in the most condescending tone Arthur had ever heard. He had half a mind to climb over the desk and strangle the man with his bare hands. Arthur glanced at where the silver stag had once been and quashed the urge. His mind brought forward the image of the black wings behind the man. Even if that display had been a cheap magician’s trick, the unshakable calm which the man held himself with was unsettling in a way Arthur couldn’t understand. He only knew that attacking outright would be the same as writing his own obituary.

The man rested his chin on his palm. “Tell me, were you paying attention earlier to what I was saying or were you too busy attempting and ultimately failing to harm me?” The man questioned, raising his eyebrow at Arthur’s silence. “Well, I’m going to take that murderous glare as a sign that you were not paying attention in the slightest!” The man said dramatically, clapping his hands together for effect. Arthur flinched slightly like a cat sprayed with water. The man's mood and attitude seemed to shift and change drastically like turbulent waves. Arthur couldn’t tell if it was an act or if the man was insane.

“As I briefly mentioned before, you died, cowboy, and unsurprisingly wound up here, in Hell where it’s my job to find you a suitable punishment for your many, many sins,” The man gestured with his hands as he spoke to punctuate his words. Arthur glared at the erratic man. Trying to kill him was pointless, there was no clear way to escape the room either. The only option was to play along with the man’s delusions. “S’posin’ I really did kick the bucket like you say, then what? You gon’ challenge me to a fiddlin’ contest or sumthin’?” Arthur asked, his voice ladened with mockery. “An’ anyways, who're you s’posed to be? The devil? Satan? Lucifer?” Arthur questioned, pointing to the man in accusation.

“All of those and none of them,” The man answered vaguely, giving Arthur a large smile.

“S’cuse me, but what in Christ's that s’posed to mean?” Arthur cut in bluntly. He couldn’t keep up with the madness, it all made less sense to him than science did. The man sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Well, you humans like to come up with different names every few thousand years or so, after you’ve made a new religion of some kind, worshipping some ‘god’ or ‘gods’, but ultimately they all represent the same kind of thing more or less,” The man explained, as he spoke, he shifted repeatedly in his seat, cycling through poses as if to physically express what he said. Eventually he ended with his elbows resting on the desk and his fingers interlaced as if he was about to speak about important business. Arthur gave him a blank stare. He was completely lost. The man sighed, slumping inwards like a disappointed corpse.

“I’m The Admin,” he said, “Capital t and a, call me Admin or any abbreviation of the sort and I will eat your soul, okay?” The Admin explained dryly. He had the demeanor of an overworked circus performer going over the same act every day. Arthur tipped his hat ever so slightly as a show of agreement. He had no idea if the threat to consume his soul was legitimate or a twisted attempt at humour. The Admin fiddled with an odd looking translucent blue pen, flipping it around deftly in his hands. “I’m in a good mood, so you got any questions? Want the answer to meaning of life? Or the reason you humans have conscious thought while every other lifeform in your realm is as self aware as dirt?” The Admin asked, raising an eyebrow expectantly. His speech shifted as fast as his emotions, speaking one moment like a well-educated man of status, the next a fool with odd words and phrases.

Arthur adjusted his hat, repositioning it pointlessly as he considered what questions to ask.

“So’s god real? Or is all us poor bastards stuck dealin’ with you?” Arthur asked, resting his hands on his belt. The pen clattered to the desk, forgotten by The Admin who had donned a hurt expression on his face, clutching his chest like his heart was giving out.

“You make it sound like being with me is a bad thing,” The Admin whined like an upset child. Arthur scowled at him in silent judgement. He regained composure, smiling as he fiddled with the pen once more. “Well, you picked the wrong question, because that particular piece of information is on a need-to-know basis and frankly you don’t need to know, cowboy,” The Admin said with a spitefully cheery tone. His eyes widened for a moment.

“Quick question, you mentioned earlier that you aren’t dead, correct?” The Admin asked, pointing the end of the pen at Arthur. His response fell on deaf ears as The Admin continued to speak. “Yep, it seems you're suffering from Post-Death Amnesia, it’ll pass over the course of a day or two, approximately a month or so in Mortal time.” The Admin explained casually as if he was chatting about the weather.

“No clue what you’re yappin’ ‘bout, but I ain’t dead” Arthur said firmly. The Admin nodded,

“I’m sure you’re aware that Denial isn’t just a stream in Hell, right?” He asked. Arthur scowled at him.

“Honestly, I’m incredibly sorry to have to burst your little ‘still being alive’ bubble, cowboy, but you definitely did croak, as you know, with the whole neck-snapping thing, it’s kind of a one-way ticket,” The Admin said nonchalantly, conveying none of the sympathetic apology of which he had spoken of. Arthur glared at him; The Admin paid no heed. “Here, I’ll even give you a demonstration of what happened,” His hands hovered just above the desk, fingers splayed as if he was about to play piano. Thin lines of black ran from the tips of his fingers, forms emerged, a person, a crowd and the gallows. The Admin controlled the scene like a skilled marionette presenting at a show. The hat worn by the person at the gallows made it more than clear who it was depicting.

“You’re one sick bastard,” Arthur muttered. The strings on The Admins fingers snapped and the puppets sank into the desk in a pool of black. “Ha, that's rich coming from you, cowboy.” The Admin retorted. Arthur slammed his hands on the desk,” Keep callin’ me that an’ I’ll gouge out your eyes,'' Arthur glared unflinchingly into the eyes of a monster. The Admin smiled, adjusting the blue pen which had rolled across the desk. “Oh, stop being so grumpy, cowboy, it's only a harmless nickname,” he placated. Arthur dug his fingers into his palms. The Admin smirked, shifting in his seat. “Now, I need to go search for something real quick, if you would like some entertainment, you can look out the window,” he pointed at a bookcase covered wall to the right of them. As if on cue, a window formed out of the bookcase. Arthur glanced back to The Admin, he was hunched over one of the drawers of the desk, rambling, “I heard the weather’s supposed to be nice at this time of the century, lots of storms...'' Arthur ignored the mutterings and walked over to the newly created window.

The vantage point from the window was too high to make out any small details, but the overall image before Arthur was disorientating. The space where the sky normally existed was a churning ocean with crashing waves and whirlpools, the water had an illumination to it, pulsing like storm clouds before a lightening strike. As the ocean grew further towards the horizon, it faded into a pale blue that shimmered like in a perpetual heatwave. Arthur couldn’t wrap his head around how the ocean could be in the sky, or how it could produce light. It was ethereal and utterly unlike anything he had ever imagined Hell to look like.

Arthur pulled his eyes away from the glowing ocean, surveying the lands beneath it. The position of the window gave him a clear vantage point to gaze across the entire city and beyond, all the way to what seemed to be the countryside judging by the spaced-out fields. The buildings of the city were painted vibrant shades of reds, greens and yellows creating a contrasting scene. Each street had unique architecture, some of which Arthur recognised, it seemed as if they were all built to replicate different styles from around the world. On the horizon, beyond civilisation was a massive black structure. The small fraction of Hell Arthur gazed upon was fascinating as it was bizarre.

“Are you enjoying the view?” Arthur jumped, reflexively lashing out at whatever was near him. His fists were stopped, frozen in the air. The Admin chuckled. He stood beside Arthur, towering over him like an ancient tree. Whatever force held his arms captive disappeared; Arthur folded them across his chest.

“I was till you ruined it,” Arthur muttered, glaring up at The Admin’s unwavering smile. “Mortals sure are jumpy, aren’t you?” The Admin said teasingly, slapping Arthur on the back, knocking his hat halfway off his head. “I’m gonna kill you...” Arthur muttered. The Admin chuckled, “I would love to see you try, I really would, cowboy.” Arthur adjusted his hat, firmly planting it on his head.

The Admin pointed to the black structure in the distance, “You see that all the way out there? those are the Rings where all you sinners go- well, that’s one of them at least, the others are spread out according to each sector of governance, so in very simple terms, a Ring for each of those four directions you Mortals like to put on maps, what are they called again? Saest, um, Worth, Nouth, and whatever the last one is…er, Eest?” The Admin ran a hand through his curls, looking as embarrassed as a towering monster with red eyes could possibly look, which turned out to be about the same as any other person. Arthur deemed his idiocy worth a bit more than a single scoff. “You sure know how to be intimidatin’, I’ll give you that, I’m shakin’ in my boots just hearin’ ‘bout this ‘Eest’, real spooky.” The Admin rolled his eyes, “you sure are lucky that I like you, cowboy, or else you too would be going to one of those Rings right now as punishment for all your little misdeeds,” The Admin said cheerily, nudging Arthur in the shoulder with a sharply pointed elbow. Arthur stared at the distant place of torment on the horizon. The Admin sure did know how to be intimidating, and Arthur would never admit that there could have been a minor shiver running down his spine to his boots, he was just a bit cold.

“You know, I probably would have sent you to the Ring of Futility, considering the nature of your sins,” The Admin commented. Arthur barely had time to consider those words, “Well, that’s enough sightseeing for now,” A long, slender arm wrapped around his shoulders, “Oi! Hell is you doin’?” Arthur struggled to free himself but was ultimately unable to escape the deceptively strong grasp which The Admin had on him. Arthur was steered back towards the desk, The Admin absent-mindedly chatting as they walked. “Heh, you sure like to repeat the same mistake over and over again... but, I suppose you are human after all, takes you all forever to notice what’s been obvious from the start.” Arthur made no response, simply wishing to be anywhere but in the same space as The Admin.

A large leather book and folder had been placed on the middle of the desk. The Admin returned to his overly decorated chair, Arthur scowled at him like an indignant child, disgruntled at being man-handled. He noticed that even while sat down, The Admin was above his eye level, if only by less than a head. The Admin snapped his fingers “I forgot to give you a chair, woops,” black smoke rose from the floor and formed the outline of a chair, it solidified, taking on the properties of cherry wood and velvet. It was identical in style to The Admin’s, but not in decoration, being bare of the symbols and words that adorned The Admin’s grand throne-chair. Arthur gingerly sat down, relaxing only after he was sure it wouldn’t turn into smoke underneath him. The Admin cleared his throat, picking up the leather book, he brandished it in his hand like a weapon. “This right here has vital information on Hell and ghosts which will be very important for you to know in the near future, so I highly suggest you read it,” The Admin explained. The book in question was as thick as a brick if not thicker. “That is, if you have the cognitive ability to read, as I know the people from your time period weren’t exactly known for their literacy skills,” The Admin jabbed. He extended the book out to Arthur who snatched it from his hand. “I ain’t illiterate, you smiley bastard.” Arthur snapped. He inspected the book. The leather of the book had a deep crimson colour to it, not too dissimilar to the colour of blood. Foreign words were imprinted on the front in gold. Arthur ignored the strange words and flipped the book open. The Admin waved something in front of Arthur’s face. He slammed the book shut and looked up at the bothersome person across the desk.

The Admin pushed a yellow paper folder across the desk to him. “That has a file in it which contains information on what your punishment is going to be,” The Admin explained. Arthur opened the folder with one hand, holding the book in the other. Inside was a piece of paper with words Arthur didn’t bother to read, he focused on the coloured photograph attached to the paper, briefly wondering how it even had colour. The boy in the photograph was strangely interesting, but Arthur couldn’t place why. Arthur realised it was the eyes and hair of the boy that caught his attention, he was blond with green eyes. Arthur had rarely seen people with either blond hair or green eyes, to see both was something new. The rest of the boy was mildly less interesting, his hair, outside of being blond, was a mess of thick layers poking out around his eyes and ears; it reminded Arthur of his own hair hidden under his hat. The boys’ features were ill fitting for his face, creating the effect of him appearing far younger than he likely was. Ignoring the boy’s face, Arthur noticed that the red and white sweater he wore had little images of trees and deer stitched in. Arthur finally decided to read the information written beside the photograph. He wondered what the boy's parents were thinking when giving their son such an odd name, he almost felt sorry.

Arthur looked up at The Admin, he was fiddling with the pen once again. “Why’d you gimme this? What’s all this gotta do with sum kid?” he asked, pointing to the photograph of the boy. “You’ll figure it out, eventually,” The Admin answered vaguely. Arthur let out a sigh and reopened the strange book. Most of the beginning pages were written in the same foreign language as the cover of the book, Arthur skipped a few chapters in order to find words he could read. The short minutes of silence that Arthur had been enjoying were interrupted. “I'm guessing you’ve realised what's going to happen, haven't you?” The Admin asked, leaning on the desk with his elbows. Arthur continued to read, only half paying attention.

“I’ll take that as a no, you haven’t…fine I guess I’ll spell it out for you,” The Admin said, sighing dramatically as if speaking to Arthur was a chore he had to do. “You, cowboy, are going to become a ghost as part of your punishment,” The Admin said. “You hit your head, or you just brainless by birth?” Arthur asked, glancing up at The Admin with scorn. “As a matter of fact, I have not hit my head, and technically I was never born at all, so that insult is invalid,” The Admin said, smiling like a saint. Arthur scoffed. “Point is, you ain’t all there in the head, ‘cause if I recall you said I’m dead, meanin’ I’m already a ghost, ain’t I? so why you tellin’ me that like it’s special?” Arthur asked. The Admin let out an airy chuckle.

“So, do you finally accept that you are very much dead? Good, well, anyway, the fact of you being separated from the ol’ mortal coil as some would put it, means that you are merely just your soul, no vessel, that hunk of meat was left behind, and so in short, you’re bound to this realm for eternity, which isn’t the same as a ghost, a ghost is a soul with specific conditions applied to it which means it can belong in the Immortal realm and in some capacity, the Mortal realm as well, even without a fleshy little container to tie it down, the specific reasons for why that has been applied to you, I wont get into now, but I will say it’s related to the boy I gave you that file on,” The Admin explained in a torrent of words. Arthur scratched the back of his head. “Don’t make a lick of sense what you just yapped about, but I don’t care much anyways, oh an’ just so y’know, I ain’t accepted nothin’ ‘cause I ain’t dead,” Arthur said, briefly glancing up from the book. He wondered when this strange dream of his would end. The Admin sighed, resting his hands under his chin. “I suppose it makes no difference whether you comprehend the underlying mechanisms of your current state of existence and the reality around you, however, it would make my job easier if you did, far less questions for me to answer.” Arthur made no comment, absorbed in the book.

The Admin began rummaging through the desk drawers. A gold pocket watch was placed on the desk in front of Arthur. He glanced at it and closed the book, picking up the pocket watch in his free hand. He flipped open the case. The watch face was black with four purple indents along it, no hands or numbers to indicate time. “That there is a cursed pocket watch, it’s useless here, but it will start being very useful once you leave,” The Admin explained. As if on cue, a bell dinged, and The Admin abruptly stood. “Well, I'm all out of time, a new soul just arrived so you need to get going and I need to clean this place up,” as he spoke the room began melting into the same shadowy substance as it had formed from. Arthur stood in the black abyss beside The Admin, all that remained was the desk. “Might want to take those with you,” The Admin gestured to the odd items Arthur had been shown. He grabbed the file on the boy and the pocket watch along with the book, as soon as they were in his arms the desk disappeared in a black blob. Arthur stuffed the items in his satchel.

“Over here, cowboy,” The Admin grabbed Arthur's shoulders and moved him like a piece on a board. Arthur bristled at the unwanted touch.

“There is a door I need you to walk through,” The Admin pointed into the void where a dark red door suddenly appeared.

“It will take you to your punishment,”

“An’ what if I don’t want to go?”

Arthur glared up at The Admin. “What’re you gonna do then, steal my soul?” The Admin smirked. “Nope! I already own it”

Arthur folded his arms across his chest, standing his ground as if this was the worthiest of hills to die on. The Admin’s smile widened dangerously; Arthur wondered how the sides of his face didn’t tear.

“Since you insist so much on staying, I’ll just make you leave!” The Admin snapped his fingers. Arthur braced himself expecting something to happen, but nothing did. He raised his eyebrow at The Admin, whose face was the picture of childlike glee.

“See you later, cowboy!” The Admin waved to Arthur. There was a rush of wind as the door opened, revealing a world of white on the other side. Arthur was knocked off his feet and dragged towards the door. He clawed at the ground for some sort of purchase to stop himself. The Admin was unaffected, calmly watching with a perpetual smile on his face. Arthur was thrown through the open door like a ragdoll; for only a moment he assumed the nightmare was over and he would wake up.

#Haunted #Haunted: Part 1 #Haunted: Part 1: Chapter: 2 #creative writing #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing community #writing #This ones a long one #Feedback is very much appreciated

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