#i specifically like the part where arthur jumps up and down to get free and they just… make noises and grunts and moans—

[dollopole]

Mh. Okay.

[the-nado-hunter]

Random Hetalia character head cannons/hc histories and characterizations that float in my brain but I’ve never written down - starting with England, America and Germany since I’ve thought about them the most lol:

England:

- Was the reverse of Alfred where he actually physically and emotionally aged much slower than most nations. He was barely not a teenager when he first took in Alfred (and his other “kids” by extension) when he was not at all ready/had even fully matured himself.

- I have a hc that nations who “get too big” (meaning the territory under their name grows) they kind of lose themselves and get less distinct and coherent in their motivations and sometimes don’t feel themselves at all, too many voices in their head so to speak. Unfortunately Arthur “lost it” during a pivotal part of his relationship with his family, hence all his strained relationships.

- Once he took on those responsibilities he suddenly jumped in physical age a bit. So while Alfred sees him as being SO much older (calling him an old man) his time in the nation equivalence of life stages was uneven and all over the place.

- it wouldn’t be until the 60s/70s/80s that Arthur had the time and ability to “make up for lost time” hence his musical and punk phases. He finds himself in some ways.., also likely dissolves into addiction problems at the same time.

- In the modern era he still has many anger issues but he’s a lot more calm and sure of himself, however he’s got a built up emotional wall and a whole lot of hidden self hatred that’s going to take a long long time to resolve, and he isn’t quite there yet and tends to lash out and push people away rather than deal with things.

America:

- He was very sheltered by Arthur at first, he was kept out of almost everything for most of his early life. If Arthur wasn’t present (which he often wasn’t due to the two having vastly different understandings of the passing of time) there were people hired and cycled out to take care of him. He can’t help himself though, even if he’s being treated like a sheltered little prince he wants to go run free in the fields and get into shit. He’s basically a Disney princess in his early life is what I’m saying lol.

- reality hits him like a ton of bricks when he’s roughly looking/acting about 14-15. He realizes likely through being exposed to other nations starting to come in and managing to slip out to talk to people just how much has been hidden from him and the resentment grows. And he starts REALLY growing even faster.

- Despite all that he went full on into a “fight” coping mechanism and never stopped. He put on a “mask” at one point in his life and it hasn’t come off. He’s never really deeply dealt with anything so he progressively seems more and more obtuse and seemingly arrogant to overcompensate for not wanting to face any sort of pain.

- He’s deeply deeply lonely and desperately wants closeness and to open up- yet at the same time the idea of seeming “weak” or “vulnerable” is terrifying to him. Him and Arthur are more similar than they would like to admit with how they mask and push people away despite really REALLY needing love and closeness.

Germany:

- it depends on if you accept the “Germany is HRE” theory or not, but either way I tend to think they at least have the same body but might be different entities or ‘spirits’ so to speak. That being said I imagine Ludwig specifically not only was “born” into a body that was preexisting and therefore already past a decent part of childhood, I imagine that his body was at first incredibly weak, frail, and he was very sickly for quite some time.

- I’ve written a fic about this, but I personally hc Ludwig from about 6-15 years old in appearance being almost completely unable to walk and needing braces and assistance to get around. His brother obviously loves and cares about him, but Ludwig couldn’t help but feel frustrated and like a burden. He really does look up to his big brother and is worried about being weak and reliant on others for the rest of his life.

- Ludwig GETS his strength, and as soon as he’s able to walk on his on he becomes obsessed with being as strong and capable as he possibly can be. He wants to never have to rely on anyone again, feeling an odd sense of guilt for needing so much help.

- he’s, in the end… kind of socially inept. Gilbert isn’t exactly the pinnacle of a socialized man himself - So despite being mostly independent and capable he doesn’t really understand social situations, or how to understand himself and others. Feliciano is both jarring and someone I think he becomes interested in him because Feli is capable in something he never has been and really is teaching him a lot.

- Unfortunately Ludwig had in face overcompensated for his past feelings of being a burden he’s taken so much on and has become such a protector that he’s almost unable to set boundaries and say no to requests to take on extra work- malicious or not.

- we already know Ludwig tends to explode and bark directions at people, to me it’s always been a clear sign of how much stress he’s under- but he winds up just appearing scary and he once again takes on more responsibilities and feelings of “something must be wrong with me”.

- i think many in the fandom have joked about it but Ludwig to me is SO repressed and SO gay it’s not even funny

-I would expect poor Ludwig to hit a breaking point and have a nervous breakdown eventually, which I do want to write at some point, just gotta not procrastinate lol

[ijustwant2write]

Runaway-Finn Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @dialnfornoir​)

Masterlist

Summary: On her brisk walk home, (Y/N) witnesses a brutal Peaky Blinder attack, attempting to run away when Finn Shelby comes after her, only to sweep her off her feet.

Characters: Finn Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name 

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Violence, fighting, blood, fluff

                                      *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Come on (Y/N), not even one drink? We won't even make you stay, just the one!" my friend moaned as I denied their proposal of going to the Garrison.

"You said that last time, and I ended up staying until early hours." I laughed.

They all put their hands together as they started begging. I also laughed at this, embarrassed by the attention that was suddenly on us.

"No, seriously. I have to be good with money this month. Thanks to you lot, I'm having to be frugal for the rent."

They sighed."Fine, we won't make you come. But you will be missed. Just get home safe, OK?"

"I will. You too, please don't get too drunk and end up sleeping outside."

"That was one time!"

I shook my head as we giggled, waving goodbye when I turned to walk home. We had just finished work, so it was still relatively light out; I would say it was less dangerous to walk alone, but we did live in Small Heath. Yawning after the long, boring shift, I adjusted my coat around me, trying to keep warm. All I wanted was a good dinner, get cleaned up and snuggle into bed, maybe read a few chapters of the book I had if my eyelids could stay open. I was only in my early twenties and already feeling like an old woman.

Home wasn't far, a good twenty minute walk, which could be a bad thing if it was raining, a lovely stroll if not. I lived in the better part of Small Heath (if there even was one), walking home from work had never been an issue. Until I heard the unfamiliar sounds of desperate begging and crying, as well as thumps and slaps of skin of skin contact. My eyes widened, heart beat accelerating when I realised someone was begging for their life. There was no other way home for me, I had to take this route. What I should have done was turn around to join my friends for that drink, but the natural human tendency to be curious took over. As I cautiously continued my way home, I couldn't help but glance down the alleyway behind a row of houses, spotting four young boys surrounding an older man, who looked like he was being beaten to a pulp by one of them. I froze, having never seen a brawl like this up close. It was as if I were delayed, somehow taking ages to register that I had to leave before they spotted me.

Unfortunately one of their heads snapped up to look at me, tapping his friends on the shoulder, pointing at me as he shouted for them to stop. My legs still wouldn't move, staring at the man who's face was soaked red with his own blood. It wasn't until one of the young men started approaching me that I sprinted away, suddenly terrified about what could happen to me.

I cursed myself for being such a bad runner, as well as the shoes I was wearing. My lungs were working incredibly hard, my throat drying up whilst my mind panicked as it tried to remember which way was home. I let out a scream as the boy grabbed me, crying out in pain when they pushed me against the brick wall. Attempting to scramble out of their hold was useless, they were pushing their whole weight on me, I had no escape.

"(Y/N)?" he said my name.

My eyes widened, realising who had a hold of me. It was Finn Shelby.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)? We went to school together. You might not remember me, but we definitely did."

"Of course I remember you! You're Finn fucking Shelby.”

"Oh right."

"Please don't hurt me."

He looked confused."Hurt you? Why would I do that?"

"Well, you're currently pinning me against a wall, and I'm finding it a bit hard to breathe if I'm honest."

He glanced down, quickly pushing himself away from me. I tried to hide getting my breath back, letting out a quick cough. It seemed he wasn't going to hurt me, and he wasn't being sadistic about that phrase either.

"I'm sorry. You alright?"

I slowly nodded, still wanting to be on the safe side.

"I remember you from school. Obviously changed a lot, though I have seen you from time to time."

"Right."

"Look, uh, what you saw back there, I need you to forget it."

"Finn," I was scared to say his name but I did anyway,"you almost killed him."

"You know I'm a Peaky Blinder, right?"

"How could I not? And are you trying to justify what you did?"

"(Y/N), he ran a brothel using children."

"Oh."

"I mean, you couldn't have known that, so I can see how that looks from a different perspective."

"Well, I totally agree with your actions then."

"I still need you to keep quiet about the whole thing."

"Um, of course."

"Where were you headed?"

This was the longest conversation I had ever had with Finn, with a Peaky Blinder. I briefly remember him as a child, you never do have specific memories at such a young age, though I probably played with him during break time.

"Home."

"Let me walk you."

"No, honestly it's fine, it's not far."

"I insist. Part of my apology for scaring you earlier."

"Part of your apology?"

"Yeah, I'm taking you out for drinks tomorrow."

I started thinking I might have been in a dream."Sorry?"

"Do you always act this surprised at what people say? A catch up drink."

"That's alright, really, if you're trying to make it up to me-"

"Come on, just one?"

It was like deja vu.

"If you're busy tomorrow, we can always go tonight. Yeah, you know what? Let's do that instead!"

"No, Finn, really I'm fine."

"I won't take no. Please, it'll be nice, I promise all I'm asking for is a drink."

I felt obligated to go, still in a bit of shock from what happened. But my friends were at the Garrison, if they saw me with Finn they would think I was ditching them, and what would it look like for me to be walking in with a Shelby?! However, I felt bad when I saw how happy Finn was; and even if he tried anything later I would undoubtedly slap him, I wasn't afraid of that (I tried to convince myself). When I agreed, his smile grew even bigger, instantly heading towards the pub.

I was trying to focus on what he was babbling on about, only my mind was preoccupied with the dreaded stares of my friends. That was one fo the worst things you could do as a girl, ditch your friends for a boy. Then there would be questions about how I met him, why didn't I tell them, why didn't I bring him along to drinks etc. I'd look like any other desperate girl that tried to cling onto the arm of any Shelby, desperate for a taste of the dangerous, gangsta life, even if it was just for one night.

As we walked in, I felt sick, immediately spotting my friends on their usual table they always tried to grab. They hadn't seen me yet, so I attempted to hide behind Finn, keeping my head down as we stood at the bar.

Finn was served first before anyone else."Whiskey Harry, and you?"

"Um, wine please."

"Just put them through the window, yeah?"

I was confused when we walked to the private room, it felt like I was trespassing. Though this gave me a good hiding place from my friends, chancing to glance back at them before disappearing. They still hadn't seen me.

Finn casually sat down, looking relaxed. I stood, not sure whether to join him, which was a stupid thing to think when he had invited me.

"Are you going to stand there the whole time?" he chuckled.

I said nothing as I sat down opposite him, not wanting to become trapped in the booth with him. I still wasn't sure what to say once seated, hating that this could become awkward at any second.

"Are you OK? You seem a bit shaken up still." he asked.

"I'm fine." I squeaked out, knowing he could see right through me.

"You're all nervous, what's wrong?" he smirked.

I sighed."My friends are out there."

"Oh, well go tell them to join us."

"No!" I snapped too quickly."Look, I said no to drinks earlier, hence why I was on my way home, and I was scared what they would think or feel if they saw me waltz in with you."

"Don't want to be seen with a Blinder?"

"No, just didn't want them to think I chose a boy over my friends."

He gave me a pointed look.

"And I guess it would seem strange if I suddenly walked back in with a Blinder."

"Why did you say no in the first place?"

"Because money is tight. That was another reason I was hesitant to come, honest."

"You're not paying (Y/N)."

"Oh, Finn-"

"No, because I literally get this stuff for free." the small window into the room opened."Speaking of."

He reached over and grabbed our drinks, handing mine to me before clinking the glasses together. Unlike Finn, who threw the whole drink back, I sipped on my wine, and god was it good. He slammed the glass back down onto the table, letting out a satisfied breath.

"So what have you been up to since school?"

"Well, I've got a job at this clothes shop, you might have passed it but we only deal with women’s clothing, so I doubt you’ve been in. Uh, I actually started there as a shop assistant after I left school, you know, running errands and doing the little things no one else wanted to do. Then they started giving me proper jobs, I’m also a book keeper now and-” I glanced at Finn, realising that I was rambling,“-sorry, I’m talking too much.”

“No, no you’re not.” he chuckled, waving a hand in the air.

“Long story short, I work in a clothes shop. What about you?”

I closed my eyes as soon as I finished my sentence, wincing at my stupidity.

“I didn’t mean, I wasn’t trying to be smart or pry, obviously I know...no I don’t know...”

“You’re cute when you stumble over your words.”

I wasn’t expecting that.“E-excuse me?”

Before things could get any more awkward, the door opened, making us both jump. I felt my heart drop down into the pit of my stomach when I saw who it was, and I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me; his brothers were here.

“What the fuck are you doing in here Finn boy?”Arthur asked (if you didn’t know all their names, you had to be incredibly simple).

“Failing to get another bird in your bed?” John smirked.

“Shut up John.” Finn spat.“This is (Y/N), she’s an old friend from school.”

They filtered in. John scoffed.“Surprised you remember anything about school. Have you asked him what five pus five is?”

John and Arthur laughed as they sat down opposite us, Thomas standing besides the window for the drinks. I clasped my hands together as they started to shake out of nerves. I was in a room with the Shelby brothers, the men who ran one of the most feared gangs in England, and I had no clue what to do with myself. 

“Um, I think I should go.” I pathetically mumbled out.

“Don’t be rude Finn,” Thomas said,“show the lovely, young lady out.”

Finn was glaring at his brothers as we stood. I slowed down my steps so I didn’t appear to be running away from them. Finn opened the door for me, and I felt weightless as soon as I stepped out of that room. He followed me out, running a hand down his face.

“I’m sorry about them. They’re just being their usual stupid selves.” he apologised.

“It’s alright, really. Don’t tell them they bothered me or anything because they really didn’t.”

“You don’t have to worry. They won’t do anything to you because we had a drink together.”

“Sorry, just not used to...”

“Meeting a gangster?”

I hummed in agreement.“Yeah.”

“Look, I definitely need to go back in there. But I liked this. Apart from how we bumped into each other.”

“Yes, that could have been different.”

“I would like to do this again though.”

“You would?”

“There you go again, acting all surprised. How about this weekend?”

“I-I’m free this weekend.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at six on Saturday.” he smiled at me, turning to go back into the private room before calling the bartender.“Oh, Harry, another wine for my friend.”

He winked at me, then disappeared into the room. I heard heckling and teasing from his brothers. I could feel that my cheeks were heating up from blushing, though I also couldn’t help but smile. Thanking the bartender for the wine, I quickly took it, freezing when I saw my friends staring at me. Sighing, I took a big gulp of the drink before making my way towards them. This was going to be a longer night than I thought.

[helliontherapscallion]

Shenanigans and Love (Adrenaline Junkie Part 13)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: the Warden, mentions of death, phantom pain syndrome, extreme fluff

Word count: 3,226

The light glow of the redstone lamp illuminated your work space. Currently, it was about two hours before everybody was due to wake up and you were hovering over your journal containing your notes on the Warden. Not much was known about the cave-dwelling creature, but you found a couple of books about it at the library. So far, you found out that it indeed didn’t have eyes; it navigated via a mixture of hearing and a vibration network found in the blocks that had the glowing tentacles on them (you now knew that they were called ‘sculk blocks’). The sculk blocks would pick up on movement or touch, it would send vibration waves through the air, where it would reach the Warden’s own sculk stalks. Without the sculk stalks on the Warden’s head, the Warden was defenseless.

You also read about the anatomy of the creature. Known juvenile specimens ranged from seven to eleven feet tall while adults spanned from twelve to a whopping twenty feet tall. While their average lifespan is unknown due to the parasitic nature of the beast, it is known that they are out of their juvenile stage once they are approximately twenty years old. Thinking back on the one in the cave, it was about twice as tall as you were. That was a juvenile mob and it’s probably grown rapidly since then. The thing that killed you so viciously was a juvenile. You shuddered thinking about what an adult could do.

Juveniles are charted to be more erratic in their decisions while adults were known to be calculating and alert. Known weaknesses were known to be the sculk stalks and the heart. It was going to be incredibly difficult to take it down by yourself, but if worse comes to worse, you’d gladly take the beast down with you. Just in case, you left behind a small will with things you were planning on giving to your family. You were going to leave your workshop and your blueprints to Arthur, your collection of diamonds to Tommy and Wilbur, your stock of netherite and gold to Technoblade, and your wealth and life savings to Philza. You requested that Philza take care of Arthur, you couldn’t ask for a better father figure to have than Philza. Only the best for Arthur. In addition, you had a letter prepared for every member of your family. They were still in their first drafts, but they were coming along fast. In them, you detailed how grateful you were for every single one of them and reminisced on your favorite memory you shared with them. You still had about a week and a half left before you planned on attacking the cave, but you always liked to have extra time to complete things.

Your alarm clock sounded with harsh, lazer like beeps before you quickly silenced it. You didn’t need Arthur or Philza waking up so early. Sighing, you hid your journal and letters under a false bottom drawer and gently closed it. You trudged up the stairs quietly and made your way to the bathroom to shower for the day. When you took off your prosthetic, you could feel the phantom pains shoot up your nonexistent wing. In addition to that, the feathered stump and the areas around it felt stiff. The warmth of the shower did nothing to alleviate the pain.

After your shower, you started to make breakfast. Soon after, the other members of the household filed into the kitchen with differing energies. Arthur, the hyper, knowledge craving kid he was, walked into the kitchen with a bounce in his step and his head held high while Philza followed him with disheveled hair and tired blue eyes. With breakfast situated at the table, everyone started eating. You continuously shifting uncomfortably in your seat didn’t go unnoticed by the two as they eyed you after they woke up a little more.

Finally having enough of your constant movement, Philza finally spoke up, “(y/n)?” You hummed, turning to look at him, “yeah?”

“Is everything okay?”

You suddenly become hyper aware of your movements as you force your body to sit still. “Everything’s fine, why you ask?”

“You look a little uncomfortable. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

You sighed, “I’ll tell you later. Arthur did you have anything specific you wanted to learn today?”

His eyes shone with the brightness of all of the stars in the universe as he made quick work to swallow his mouthful of toast, jumping in his seat slightly as he chewed. “Yes! I was wondering if you could teach me how to work with comparators!”

“That takes a lot of time and patience to learn, we probably won’t get it all done by the end of the day today. Is that alright?” He enthusiastically nodded, shoving the last bit of toast in his mouth and running off with a mouthful of unchewed bread.

You could feel a slight worry stab your gut, “Arthur, swallow your food before you run! You could choke!”

You watched as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, vigorously chewed, swallowed, and resumed his sprint upstairs. You dragged a tired hand through your hair and sipped at your coffee.

“Ender, now I know how you felt with us when we were kids. Kid’s gonna be the death of me.”

Your dad chuckled, sipping at his own coffee. “He’s a lot more tame than you four were. Techno and Wilbur weren’t that bad, you were just a tad bit more chaotic, and well, you remember how Tommy was. You’re just way too worried about him. Kids will be kids, they do crazy things and sometimes you can’t stop them. After the couple months of adopting Tommy, I just let him learn from his mistakes. You gotta let them learn from their mistakes or else they’re never gonna learn. It’s just something all parents have to do if they want their kid to grow as a person.”

“That’s tr- wait, parent? Arthur’s my protégé, not my kid.”

He smirked over his mug and raised an eyebrow at you, “really? Cuz you seem awfully worried about him.”

“Dad. I’m just worried that he’s gonna accidentally kill himself. What, can I not be worried about my protégé?”

“No need to get defensive, just trying to point out the obvious-”

“The obvious? Dad, I'm only twenty. I’m not adopting anyone anytime soon.”

“I adopted Techno when I was twenty three,” he pointed out with raised eyebrows, “besides, I think you’d be a great parent. You’re already a parental figure for Arthur anyways, so nothing would change too much.”

You were silent for a moment as you stared at him blankly. You never viewed yourself as a parental figure type before. Your current lifestyle of never leaving your workshop would never be able to accommodate having someone that depended on you. You could hardly take care of a goldfish (you still had Bubbles’ grave in the backyard at your house in L’manberg), let alone an entire human child. Sure, you babysat Fundy when Niki was too busy to, but that was your nephew and it was only for a day at a time. You planned on taking Arthur with you back to L’manberg (only if he wanted to of course), but you didn’t think that far ahead. He was probably going to have to stay at your house. You weren’t cut out to be a parent, you wouldn’t be good enough for Arthur.

Philza, noticing your slightly panicked zoned out state, quickly reassured you, “you don’t have to make a definitive decision right now, you have time. Just- just consider it. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to come to me. I think I’ve raised enough kids to know what I’m doing,” he chuckled to himself.

Your feathered wing dropped in relief as you gave him your best smile over your coffee mug. “Thanks Dad, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you, you’re a lifesaver.” Right after that, a particularly large burst of pain shot along the length of your nonexistent right wing and loitered in the area around the base of your wing. You bit your tongue at the sudden pain as you felt the muscles twitch.

“It’s no problem, I’ll always be here to help ya.” He smiled at you before his eyes snapped to something behind you. His smile dropped as he eyed you concerningly, pointing behind you. “Is- is it supposed to do that?”

You followed his eyes behind you to your prosthetic wing. The metal was twitching in sporadic bursts with varying intensity. You could hear the slight scratching of the metal clashing lightly against the wooden chair. Though it was very inconvenient, you supposed you should be glad that it was moving with the muscle impulses of the muscles you used in flight. Suddenly, you could feel a muscle directly on the base of your wing twitch as the metal moved in tandem with the impulse. The entire wing extended to it’s full length and knocked over the chair next to you. It stood erect for a bit before another twitch caused another spasm that worked its way throughout the length of your metal wing. This time, the wing reared back to your body and almost smacked you in the face. If you didn’t move, your eye would’ve probably been plucked out by one of the metal feathers.

Your flesh wing puffed up slightly in embarrassment as you turned to look back at the blond man in front of you, “technically? I mean, it’s just the sensors picking up on the twitching. I-I’ll get the chair.”

As you stood up, you grunted in pain as another spasm hit you. This time, your wing extended fully perpendicularly to your back causing the muscles in the base of your nubby wing to be pulled unexpectedly. Hissing, your hand shot to rub at the base of your wing. “Fuck that was a bad one.”

You heard the screech of wood on wood as Philza stood up and hurried over to you, dodging a couple of swings from your wing. His hands were hovering indecisively in front of him. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“Take it off. Just- hhh, just take the sensors off. There should be seven of them, all on my back and shoulders.” You bent over with your hands gripping the table with each spasm of your muscles. You could feel the fabric of your shirt being pulled slightly from your body and the warmth of your dad’s hand brushing against your twitching skin as he hurriedly ripped the sensors off your skin.

Once they were all off, the metal wing drooped limply downwards, occasionally being moved slightly when what’s left of the flesh stiffened. “Good, can you unfasten the belts? There’s three of them, they’re a little- ah, a little tricky. After that, carefully pull the metal out through the slit in my shirt. Make sur- sure the sensors don’t rip.”

You sighed when you felt the wing being taken off from you and pulled through the slit in your shirt. Slumping back down into your chair, you reached a hand around to nead the skin on your back. You could feel the twitching slowly decrease in intensity, leaving a sore feeling in its wake. Your wing was placed gently onto the table in front of you, some parts hanging off the side. “Goddamn, I haven’t had an episode that bad since I grinded out making weapons for the War.”

You could hear water running before a glass was placed in front of you and Philza picked up the chair you knocked over and pulled it up next to you. He started to rub circles around the muscles around your wing. You sighed in content, feeling the knots in your back being relieved, “thanks. That feels good.”

“(y/n)?” A small voice said from the doorway of the kitchen. You shot up and bit back a groan when your sore muscles were moved. The young boy was leaning into the doorway with his hands on the sides and his mop of brilliant copper hair hung downwards. He looked worried and slightly scared.

“Hey Arthur, we can start your lesson soon, I just need a sec.”

“Are you okay?” His wavering tone and small voice combined with the tears slowly filling his eyes broke your heart. Eyes softening, you stood up and walked over to him, pulling him into a soft hug. “Of course I’m okay, you don’t need to worry buddy,” you deepened your voice and spoke dramatically, ‘(Y/n) Minecraft the Great, Conqueror of the Unknown’ will never be taken down!”

He gave a watery chuckle against your shirt and burrowed his head deeper into your shoulder, gripping you tighter. You reached up to stroke his hair and wrapped your left wing around him loosely, shielding him from the world with a protective feathery barrier. You could hear Philza picking up dishes from the table and quietly start to do the dishes. Despite the occasional twitch in your back and the phantom pain shooting down your wing, you directed all of your attention to Arthur. Eventually, he pulled away and wiped at his blotchy face. “Are you still up for the lesson?”

Just as Arthur opened his mouth, Philza interrupted him from behind you, “you’re not doing anything until you feel better (y/n).”

“Dad, honestly it isn’t that-”

“Don’t say it honestly isn’t that bad, we both know that’s not true. You’re on bedrest for today.��

You grumbled to yourself as you stood up and handed your glass of water to Arthur, who sipped at the contents giving you a small “thank you.” Nodding, you were escorted out of the kitchen by Philza and ushered to the couch. Once you were laying down on your stomach, he handed you a book and placed a hot water bottle on your back. Before you could stop it, a pleased hum left your lips as your body relaxed on the couch. “You’re staying here. I better not find you anywhere else when Arthur and I come home.”

You lifted your head up and stared at him with an eyebrow raised, “where’re you taking him?”

The corners of his mouth twitched and his eyes lit up slightly before he put on his stern facade once more. “Just to the village. I need to pick up a few things.”

“And you need him why…?”

“Well, I can’t go without someone helping me! I’m an old man after all.” He started to nudge Arthur towards the door and slipped his shoes on.

“You’re only thirty six, but whatever. Arthur, be good for my dad.”

“Alright (y/n), feel better soon!” He gave you a bright smile before he was pulled out of the house by Philza.

You tried to read, but the nagging worry for Arthur in the back of your mind never allowed for you to be immersed in your book. You knew Philza would never let anything happen to him, but you couldn’t help but worry whenever Arthur wasn’t in your line of sight. You supposed that it was a part of being an avian hybrid; you needed to constantly know if the child was alright. You tried to force yourself to go to sleep, but the pain prevented you from doing so, so you ended up mindlessly watching the seconds tick by on the clock. Before you knew it, your eyes closed and you were put in a light slumber.

You were awoken by the front door opening and laughter filling the house. You cracked open your crusty eyes and groaned as you sat up. You looked at the two with bleary eyes. Arthur was laughing at something Philza said as the blond looked over at you. “Hey hun, you feelin better?”

“Yeah a bit. What’d you get at the village?”

“Just some things for dinner. Arthur, wanna help me cook?”

Arthur, being the walking ball of sunshine that he was, nodded vigorously and started to drag the older man to the kitchen. Furrowing your brow, you called out to them, “do you want me to help?”

“No, stay there. Don’t come in!” Arthur’s excited voice shouted back to you, making you raise a brow at his words. You couldn’t lie, you felt nervous at his words. Just what did he have in store for you? Occasionally, you could hear yelps and bangs, which made you want to go into the kitchen even more. But you held off, trusting Philza.

About an hour and a half passed before you were summoned to the kitchen by an overly excited Arthur. Once in the kitchen, you were in slight awe. Spread out on the table was your favorite meal with the addition of fresh cookies left to cool on the stovetop. “All this for me?”

They smiled at you as Arthur ushered you to your spot at the table. “I… don’t know what to say. I- thank you guys.”

“Don’t thank me, it was all Arthur’s idea. I just helped.” Philza looked over at the blushing boy with a smile.

You reached over to ruffle his hair, “well, thank you Arthur. You know me too well, these are all my favorites!”

The boy bashfully smiled at you, “there’s something else too, but that’s for after dinner.”

You put a hand against your heart, touched, “Two surprises in one day? Ender, you’re spoiling me!” Arthur laughed at you.

Dinner went by fast with light-hearted laughter bouncing throughout the kitchen. The dinner and cookies tasted amazing, your taste buds felt like they were in heaven. After dinner, Arthur drug you to your room with an excited Philza following you two. On your bed sat your wing, but it had colorful things attached to the surface. Furrowing your brow, you looked closer to find various magnets sticking to the iron surface.

They ranged from the nonbinary flag to small mobs to little puns (your favorite ones were ‘olive you’ and ‘bird puns fly right over my head’). You could feel your smile widening at every magnet you saw, your wing fluttering in happiness. One of the magnets made you stop completely though as you stared at it with wide eyes. It was simple, but oh did it make your heart sing in joy and your eyes fill with tears. On the magnet, in big, bold letters were the words ‘world’s best parent’.

“Arthur…” You looked at him through blurred vision. He looked nervous, looking anywhere but at you and shifting on the balls of his feet. You lunged forward and pulled him into a tight hug and wrapped your wing around him, making sure he was as close to you as possible.

Philza watched the exchange with a soft smile before he decided to let you two have some privacy. His heart was full of happiness as he walked downstairs to clean up the kitchen with a bounce in his step and his wings fluttering uncontrollably. He was ecstatic to officially welcome Arthur to his family. Sure, he had a small hand in leading Arthur over to the ‘world’s best parent’ magnet, but it was Arthur that picked out the magnet for you. He knew you were going to make a fantastic parent.

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[ernmark]

One Possible Read of The Green Knight

I say one possible, because this is the story as I understood it as I was watching the film. When I mentioned it to my partner, he didn't take that away. I'm not saying my take on it is right or wrong (I think it's hard to say that about most reads for a movie like this), but I submit it for your consideration.

(Spoilers and a fairly thorough plot summary under the cut)

(Holy moly this got long)

A brief caveat:

Caveat the First: I'm basing this off a pre-existing understanding of medieval stories, which don't necessarily follow the same narrative structures as modern ones. The world they lived in was weird, so sometimes weird shit just happened for no reason, often very conveniently. (If anything, I think this movie did less of that than existed in typical medieval stories.) They also heavily relied on archetypes rather than distinct characters with backstories, as well as a pre-established understanding of the story you're listening to. Like the puppet show that shows up in the story, the kids in the audience had already heard the story enough times that they could follow it without any actual words. On that note, I've also read a version of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

Caveat the Second: I immediately distrust anybody who talks about any story older than three centuries or so having an "original" version. There are some stories that have distinct authors, but often these stories were retold and rewritten to suit the tastes of their latest audience. So I refer to the version I read, not "the original". I take my reading of that story into my interpretation of what I saw. I'll note the details from the version I read where it's relevant.

The Story

We start with Gawain, King Arthur's nephew, waking up in a brothel with his sex worker lady friend. She sends him on his way back home to Camelot where his mother greets him and kindly asks him where he's been all night. Oh, off at Christmas Mass, naturally, is what he tells her. She counters that clearly he's been drinking all the communion wine, because she can smell it on his breath.

She tells him she's not feeling well, so he should go to the Christmas celebration without her and tell her all about it afterward.

[I don't recall hearing her name in the movie, but in the version I read, the Green Knight is sent by Morgana. Between his mother being described in dialogue as Arthur's sister and a known witch, I'm gonna run with that assumption and call her that.]

This is where my reading diverges: I take all of this as being almost entirely Morgana's story. And from her perspective, it's kind of hilarious. Because this isn't the story of Gawain's journey into Manhood, but of a very frustrated mother's attempts to save her beloved (if disappointing) son.

While Gawain is partying with the sickly King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table, Morgana joins three of her fellow witches and they enact a spell, summoning the Green Knight and a very specifically worded challenge. The Green Knight presents a game: any one person in attendance may injure him and get his badass axe as a prize, but in a year exactly he'll have to go to the Green Knight's chapel and allow the Green Knight to return the exact same blow to him.

Arthur says he wants to do it, but acknowledges he's too sickly to do so. Gawain, already embarrassed once at this party, jumps up and volunteers to be his champion. And when he steps into the ring with the Green Knight, he cuts off his opponent's head. He'd think that was the end of it, but the Green Knight just picks up his severed head, reminds him of the deal to bring the axe back and let himself get beheaded in a year, and leaves.

[In the version I read, this was a ploy on Morgana's part just to freak out Guinevere. Seriously, that was the entirety of it. Just fucking with her rival/sister-in-law.]

In the movie, I got the vibe that Gawain was never meant to be in the line of fire. I suspect that either Arthur or one of his knights was meant to be the Green Knight's opponent, who would die after a year to get his affairs in order. Given that Gawain was Arthur's next-of-kin, that would have given him plenty of time to pass the crown to Morgana's beloved son. Unfortunately, Gawain stepping up messed up her whole plan.

During the intervening year, we see Morgana and the other witches working together to weave the Girdle of Invulnerability. As the name suggests, it's laden with magic to protect him from all harm and all blows from anyone. So long as he wears it, she explains, he'll make it home in one piece.

[In the version I read, the girdle is given to him by another woman later on at a weirdly convenient time. More on that later.]

Gawain barely makes it out when he asks directions from a young man looting the corpses on a recent battlefield. Being the idiot that he is, Gawain takes the young man's directions straight into a trap, where the young man and several other bandits are lying in wait. Despite his mother's assurances that he's invulnerable, he stands down immediately, allowing the bandits to take the Green Knight's axe, his Magic Girdle, all his money, all his supplies, etc.

During all this, three things happen: first, we see A Fox. Second, when the bandit takes the axe he goes all weird and runs off on the horse, forcing the other bandits to chase after him and leaving Gawain unobserved. Third, we get a weird vision of the future where Gawain remains where he is, tied up, until he rots away and he's left nothing but a skeleton.

My read is that The Fox is either Morgana or one of the other witches shapeshifted to keep an eye on him (alternatively, the fox is Reynard or a similar magical creature employed by them for the same purpose.) The Fox then enchants the bandit into running off with the Girdle and the Axe, leaving Gawain relatively safe. And when he fails to do anything with this spectacular opportunity, the Fox gives him the vision of what's gonna happen to him if he just waits around to be rescued.

Prompted to action, Gawain manages to free himself and continues his quest on foot. Eventually he comes across an abandoned manor. Inside, he meets a ghost who asks him to retrieve her severed head, which was thrown into the nearby spring. After some hemming and hawing, he does. When he returns to the surface with the woman's skull, the ghost is gone, but the Fox is watching him.

My take is that the ghost disappeared. They do that. The Fox, being sent to watch him, saw him actually step up and do a brave and selfless thing for once. This is what cements to the Fox that Gawain isn't a perennial fuckup, he's able to grow and mature if he's given the chance.

Gawain returns the skull to the rest of the ghost's skeleton, and he's rewarded by regaining his lost axe. (The axe placed there by the Fox, who took it from the enchanted bandit.)

So this is great, right? Gawain's fuck-upery has been cured and he's doing the responsible thing. Yay, right?

Except he's a fuckup who spends more time drinking and hanging out in brothels than doing Knightly stuff, so he doesn't know basics. Like how to start a fire or get food. Offscreen, Morgana must have been bashing her head into a wall, because her beloved son is going to get himself killed.

The Fox appears to him, and after his initial attempt to drive it off, Gawain lets it stay with him. From this point forward it stays by his side, not-so-subtly giving him directions and keeping him generally safe.

Later we meet some giants, because sometimes there are just giants. We don't question these things in Arthurian fantasy. Gawain asks them to give him a ride to his destination, but when one agrees to help him, he freaks out at the last second and refuses. The Fox speaks to the giant, quite possibly apologizing for its very rude human friend, and the giants go on their way without him.

Gawain is most of the way there by now, but it's late December in Wales, he's super cold and hasn't eaten anything but trippy mushrooms, he can't build a fire, he's been walking for days. He collapses, but the Fox urges him to go a little further and leads him to another manor house. Fortunately for him, this manor has living people in it, who clean him up, put him in a warm bed, and give him food.

We get a dreamy scene where he's being tended by his mother before he wakes up in the care of the manor. My read on it was that this manor and the people in it were sent directly by Morgana to save him. I don't think the manor was even there ten seconds before he collapsed the first time. Because Morgana loves her son, but he is REALLY bad at this.

Notably, it seems that the only people here are the Lord and Lady of the manor, as well as a blind old woman who seems to be the lady's maidservant and/or mother? Hard to tell.

Some flirting happens between Gawain and the Lord and Lady. The Lord of the manor explains that conveniently, Gawain's destination is only one day's walk away and he's several days early, so why not take some time to rest and gather his strength. The Lady shows off her library and her fancy daguerreotype-like mechanism, etc. The Lord suggests another game (mirroring the game presented by the Green Knight) : the Lord will go hunting the next day and give Gawain whatever he catches. Gawain will in return give the Lord whatever he gains throughout the day.

[In the version I read, this happens over the course of three days. Each day the Lord leaves, the Lady tries to seduce Gawain but he refuses, only accepting a kiss from her on the first two days; when the Lord returns with a hunted animal each day, Gawain gives him the kiss that the Lady gave him. On the third day, the Lady also gives Gawain a previously-unmentioned enchanted Girdle of Invincibility, which he neglects to pass along to the Lord, opting just to kiss him instead.]

In the movie, this is condensed into only one day. Gawain wakes up with the Lady creepily watching him sleep, wearing the Girdle of Invincibility that Morgana made for him. She invites him into bed and offers him the Girdle, reminding him that it can render him invincible. The scene gets a bit weird after that-- sex acts of some sort ensue, and the Lady walks away, leaving Gawain with post-coital shame and the Girdle.

Upset, Gawain grabs his stuff and makes to leave. Along the way he runs into the Lord in the middle of his hunt, and he declares that he's going to meet the Green Knight a day early. Citing their game, the Lord presents Gawain with The Fox (who is alive despite having been caught by a hunter, hmmm) and requests Gawain's "winnings" in return-- which he claims by stealing a kiss. I dunno about you, but it seemed to me that Gawain was Into It, at least before he remembers to be freaked out and runs off.

He's nearly at the place where he's to meet the Green Knight when the fox stops him. Now it starts talking, its voice shifting from masculine to feminine. It tells him that he's done a great job, and he can turn back right now and go home and nobody will know but the two of them. He doesn't have to go through with this. But Gawain, determined to fulfil his quest, drives the Fox off once again and goes the last bit alone.

Here he meets the Green Knight in the ruins of an old chapel, though because he's early the Green Knight is little more than a statue, awake but unmoving until the appointed Christmas Day. All the while Gawain just has to sit there and stew in the knowledge that he's gonna die. Finally the Green Knight stirs, asks Gawain if he's ready to die, and readies the axe that Gawain returned to him.

Throughout this, the light hits the Green Knight differently, making him look an awful lot like the Lord of the manor. After Gawain flinches away from the axe the first time, he speaks gently to him, almost tenderly.

[In the version I read, the Green Knight and the Lord of the manor are the same person, and the Lord/Knight is aware of Gawain's magic Girdle, because this was all an elaborate ruse. Because of Gawain's invincibility, the Green Knight only scratches his neck, permanently scarring him as punishment for lying about it and cheating in both their games, but doesn't hold it against him. Gawain then returns to Camelot and they keep the Girdle at the round table as a symbol that all of them have their failings.]

In the movie, Gawain flinches one more time. We then get a second very lengthy vision of an alternate future: Gawain flees the Green Knight and returns home, where he's welcomed back without external consequences. However, he's haunted by his own cowardice, giving up a difficult love in favor of living up to expectation, only to lose everything in the end anyway. His life following the cowardly route was longer, but it wasn't a better life.

He stops the Green Knight one last time, only to remove the Girdle and set it aside before declaring himself ready. The Green Knight is genuinely pleased by this, and he leans in and simply traces a finger over Gawain's throat, before happily saying. "Off with your head."

The movie ends there. Whether the Green Knight leaves him alive or kills him is up for interpretation. But even if the Green Knight wasn't on Morgana's payroll, I feel like he's way too fond of Gawain to do him real harm at this point.

And so Gawain has grown up-- he's brave, he's honorable, he's learned to keep his word and face the consequences of his actions. And Morgana, after some major struggles and a lot of called-in favors, has managed to keep her son from dying on his quest. Victory all around.

There's also an after-credits scene: just a little girl playing with Arthur/Gawain's crown. Notably, this little girl is neither of the children Gawain had in his vision of the cowardly future, so I interpreted it as a new future with a new child with potential all their own.

But that's just my take.

[marvelettesassemble]

Safe House (Bill x F Reader)

Summary: When his family has to go in hiding Bill asks you – his coworker and spy for the Order - if they could stay at your safe house.

Warnings: Reader has problems with sleeping and feels lonely, small swear words, mentions of sex

Words: ~3.9k

A/N: I wanted to write a Bill story for a while, because there isn’t enough stuff about him. But this took me 3 weeks I think and I struggled. But its finished now and hopefully the next one will be better  

You looked up from the little box in front of you after you had inspected the bruise-healing paste for a long time.

“Long time no see,” the tall guy in front of you said with a smirk on his face that you had almost forgotten existed.

“Weasley, what are you doing here? Last time I heard you were still in Egypt,” you sounded surprised.

“It was time to calm down a little bit and to stay closer to my family. I think I need a break from curse breaking and I’m currently on desk duty here in London.”

“So, you’re getting old. Maybe this paste would have helped you,” you tapped your finger on the box that you still had in your hand before you put it back in the stand. “We have to meet up for coffee sometime to see which one of us has the better stories to tell. See you around, Weasley.” You nodded at him before you left the shop owned by the twins of the person you just spoke to.

Back in the shop Bill Weasley picked up the exact box you had just put down and went to the register to pay for it. He was greeted by his brother George who told him he didn’t have to pay for it, he still had some paste in his office that he could have. “No, I want this one. It’s a gift, but if you’ll give it to me for free, I won't say no.” He winked at his younger brother and left the shop and disapparated. When he was at the burrow he opened the box and pulled out the paper you had put in there.

Your last stay had been in Spain and he was glad that he had recruited you for the Order as you were the perfect spy. Nobody suspected anything when you travelled in particular places or asked specific questions with you being a curse breaker just like him, but it could be described as kind of a freelancer. You didn’t stay at one place, which makes it even more perfect. He sighed and had to stop reading your neat handwriting as he was missing his old job.  

While he stayed in Egypt and was busy getting from one tomb to another you had stayed at your family home in England. You started your research from home and when you had enough information or needed to gather information you travelled for a few weeks, maybe a month but not more than two and you always had your home back in Great Britain where you would come back to.

Him meeting you in public and making it seem like you haven’t seen each other for a while had been your idea. Owls had a tendency to get lost in these times and this was the safest way they had so far. His heart felt a bit heavy as he thought back to the times when he had to shield his eyes from the sun and he though his body couldn’t produce anymore sweat, but the excitement flowing through his veins when he thought of the unknown which laid in front of him. He missed those times when he could forget everything around him and just had to concentrate on the mission in front of him.

Long gone were these times, but when he looked at the watch in the corner and saw the faces of his siblings, he knew he had made the right decision. What was a little bit of freedom and excitement when he now had the chance to make sure his siblings were okay? No, he had definitely made the right decision!

He went back to reading your letter and noticed on the bottom of the parchment a code. You would meet him tonight and the letters told him where exactly.

“Hey carrot head,” you smiled brightly at him when he walked towards you. “I brought you something, I hope this will help your mom stuffing your mouth,” you nodded towards the big basket which stood next to your feet and was filled with carrots.

“Not my favourite,” he mumbled and sat down next to you. As it was getting dark he couldn’t really see you.

“What would please you more? Beans? Potatoes?”

“I loved mashed potatoes,” Bill admitted and he though he saw you nodding.

“Noted. Next time I’ll bring potatoes.”

“Why are you bringing vegetables?” He asked confused until you told you him you had a big garden. Your grandpa had taken a liking to growing vegetables and you had taken over and never really let go. Your sleeping schedule was a mess and so you enjoyed tending to your plants when sleep wouldn’t come. It was way too much for you, but you liked the work and you know the Weasleys were a big family.  

“How come I don’t know where you live?” he wondered suddenly.

“Because it is a secret,” you whispered and then you started giggling. “And now to the important stuff, we don’t have all night.”

You noticed Bill playing with his earring. It was a reminder of his first job in Egypt and he refused to get rid of it despite everything his mother said. You had noticed that he started doing that when he was nervous. “What’s on your mind?” you finally asked when you almost got bored of watching him – almost.

“I might have to ask a favour of you,” he started but stopped.  

“Okay, just ask. I do have the option of refusing, right?” you laughed but Bill didn’t join you. He was just so nervous. A few months had passed since you had brought him the carrots.  

“There is a slight chance that the order is being compromised and if the headquarter falls... the burrow isn’t safe everyone knows where we live... I guess what I’m trying to ask is if you’d let my family into your home. I know it has been a safe house for decades, but I don’t really know how to make it and I fear I don’t have the time to learn it.”

You were quiet for a while. “Okay, but I’ll only let your family in, no one else. Bill, you have to promise me, no one else!” You put pressure on the last words, but you noticed that the man in front of you was relieved. He stopped playing with his earring and instead he hugged you. He caught you by surprise but then your arms sneaked around his torso.

“Thank you,” he mumbled and you felt how relieved he was.  

The Order had taken many setbacks but the latest one was the death of Albus Dumbledore. You didn’t really know what or when it happened, you were on your own mission. So, when you came back to the Burrow and the first person you saw was Bill with scars on his face you were shocked, but it also made you realise that you didn’t have time anymore.  

“Is it okay, if I touch your face?” you asked hesitantly. He nodded slowly and you took the seat next to him. Both of you stared in each other's eyes and you carefully put your hands on each cheek. You felt the rough skin beneath your fingertips, then closed your eyes and told Bill to do the same. You then thought about your home, the house and the fields, the massive garden and the small greenhouse, the little lake next to it and pushed that image towards Bill. You opened your eyes again.

“When it’s time you have to take your family and come there. It doesn’t matter when, you can apparate there now. Anytime, okay? I know I said only your family, but now that I know everyone my invitation also includes Harry and Hermione. You can gather them and come even now, but please don’t wait until it's too late,” you begged.

You had met the rest of the Weasleys at the Headquarter and you were surprised how nice and welcoming they were. The whole family risked so much for doing the right thing and protecting Harry, there was no way that you wouldn’t welcome them into your home.

“Now that that is out of the way you have to tell me how that happened,” your fingertips fluttered over the uneven part of his face.

Was there someone knocking? No one knew where your house was unless... You jumped up from the chair and placed the book hastily on the table. You were wide awake now and grabbed your wand and opened the door. The people in front of you didn’t look much better than you considering it was night time and they stood in their pyjamas in front of you.

“Come in,” you said and opened the door to let them all in. Bill entered first, followed by Molly who thanked you and Arthur who hugged you and didn’t stop thanking you either, then Harry, Ron, Hermoine and Ginny and then the twins. “Do you want tea?”

You agreed to have tea before everyone would head to bed and while you prepared the drink Bill filled you in. The ministry had fallen and they got a note from Kingsley so they fled and came right to your door. Your house wasn’t small by any chance but with that many people they had to share some rooms.

The next day three people were missing. Harry, Ron and Hermione had disappeared during the night and only left a little note to tell you all not to worry. This didn’t really ease anyone minds, but no one was really surprised. Everyone had a different way to deal with the stress. Yours was your garden that you tended to when you weren’t discussing your next moves.  

You were currently in the green house tending to the tomatoes when the red head with the long hair joined you. “I have to leave soon. We need some supplies and I have to get some information. But I can’t leave when I’m the only secret keeper, so I’m still doing research how to get another secret keeper.” you informed him when he grabbed himself some gloves and pulled them on. They were too little for his big hands but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you sure you want to go? We don’t know how safe it is,” he admitted and pulled some we weed from the soil.

“I’m a big girl, I can look after myself,” you said with more confidence than you actually had. “Will you help me with my research?” You spent an hour together in the green house, sharing stories from your curse breaking days before you made your way inside to start your research. Arthur joined you and you spent the day between books before Molly called you for dinner.

Despite everything that was going on it was an enjoyable dinner. Molly had made a soup from the vegetables from your garden and the twins did most of the talking. You continued the research after your meal and you noticed how your eyes started to get heavy when Arthur announced he found something.  

Bill and you walked over to him and after a short discussion you were sure that he had found what you were searching.  “So, you’re going to tell me that Bill would have been the next secret keeper as I’ve already showed him how to get here and we spent the whole day searching for nothing?” you asked not really believing what you had just learned. It was that easy?

“Well, I guess that I’ll go tomorrow. Maybe you should write me a note what you need so I can get that,” you said still buffed. You said goodnight soon and left the two Weasleys in the room to make your way to the bed.

“Did she just made me the second secret keeper without knowing it?” Bill said when it was just him and his father.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think she is mad. She wanted to do it and she’s just exhausted, poor girl isn’t really sleeping. I hope she gets enough rest so she’s fit tomorrow.”

Bill was fumbling with his earing again and mumbled that he wished he could accompany you.

“Because you want to get out of the house or because you want to make sure she’s safe?” his father asked and pretended to still look in the book so his son wouldn’t feel to pressured.

“Both,” admitted his eldest son.

“Maybe you should just tell her?” Arthur closed the book and put it on top of the other ones they had used.

“Dad, we’re at war. We live in her house because they’re searching for us. I don’t think that this is the right time.”

“Then what is the right time?” Arthur put his hand on Bill's shoulder and squeezed it lightly before he let go and made his way to the bedroom he shared with his wife.

The next day you left after everyone had told you what they needed. You were gone longer than you anticipated and when you reappeared you had to take a deep breath. Bills long hair was flowing around his head and you watched him putting it behind his ears before he picked up the axe again to chop some wood. The noise of the axe hitting the wood carried over to you and you watched him for a while. You thought that you could get used to coming home and seeing him first thing. Suddenly he turned around and when he saw you standing there he let go of the axe and walked over to you.

“Is everything alright?” he asked when you were in earshot.

“Yes, can you help carrying these inside?” you pointed to the bags at your feet. He picked them up so there was only one left for you. “You coming?” he asked when he took a few steps towards the house and noticed you hadn’t followed him. You nodded and walked quickly so you could walk by his side.

The warm air engulfed you when you entered your home. You walked into the kitchen and put the bag on the big table next the ones Bill had already placed there. It didn’t take long for the other to noticed that you came home. You didn’t just bring groceries and clothes but also information you needed. There was a lot to talk about so you found yourself in the living room when it was already dark outside. The once loud conversation turned quiet when Arthur und Molly retired first. You got tired and while you still heard the conversation in the room you started to fall asleep. You were rolled up like a cat, your feet touching Bill's thighs and your head uncomfortably on the arm rest, but you were finally asleep.

“Did you know that a good shag helps with sleeping problems?” Fred asked not really directed at anyone, but Bill sent him a death glare none the less.  

“Would you shut up?” Bill made sure his brother didn’t wake you and you were still out like a light next to him.

“What? It’s not like I offered myself. Although I did say a good shag,” Fred put his hand on his chin as if he was still contemplating before he had to dodge the pillow his older brother was throwing at him.

George caught the pillow and placed it behind his back. “What my brother is trying to say: Will you finally make a move? Maybe it will give you both a little bit of peace."

When Bill looked at you and noticed the awkward state you fell asleep in he decided to wake you up. You excused yourself for falling asleep but the other Weasleys just told you to go to bed and get some rest. When you made your way outside the room you grabbed the armchair to stabilized yourself without noticing that it was George's arm instead. Three worried glances followed you out of the room.

“Seriously, we have to make sure that she finally sleeps, especially when she’s the only one who can leave. Last time I went to grab some water and saw her cooking apples at 3am because she couldn’t sleep,” Fred said. George rubbed his arm and told them he had also met her in the kitchen when he couldn’t sleep anymore.

Bill surprised you that night in the kitchen and you almost threw the spoon in your hand as you hadn’t heard him approaching you. Surprisingly he stayed calm but you were freaking out. You started apologizing over and over again. You were tired and you were preserving vegetables.

Instead of scolding you he just asked how long you’ve been awake and you admitted that you couldn’t sleep after you went to your bedroom. “You need to get to bed,” he said and turned off the stove, put his hands on your shoulder and stirred you in the direction of your bedroom. You were beat and didn’t protest until you laid in bed, Bill sitting next to you and when he started talking about cauldron thickness you soon fell into a deep sleep.

Without you knowing it the Weasleys started to stick closer to you. When you usually were alone tending the garden suddenly Fred and George helped picking up the apples. Arthur gathered the fallen leaves while you picked up the fallen branches and pilled everything for the animals. You and Molly prepared the dinner together and every time you left Bill welcomed you home as he waited in the garden. You couldn’t deny that you heart beat faster every time you saw him standing in front of your house.

Another thing you noticed is that every evening you all sat together in the great living room and the others noticed that you always fell asleep when someone sat with you in the evening. You often played board games and it was then you noticed that you had felt lonely all this time. You loved the noises around you, the feeling that there was somebody else by your side. This was what had been missing all this time. The big house was just too much for one person. Without realising you had grabbed the hand next to you and Bill squeezed your hand shortly before his thumb swiped over your hand. “Is everything alright, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Yes, everything is alright.” You loved the feeling of your hand in his warm one and you didn’t let go of his hand even when you fell asleep sometime later that night. But still when you laid in your own bed you couldn’t find sleep again.  Suddenly an idea struck you and before you could tell yourself how dumb this idea was you jumped out of bed and walked through the hallway to another door and knocked. When you heard a response, you opened the door and quickly walked so you wouldn’t wake another person. Bill had sat up in your old childhood bed. It was strange seeing him in the bed that been yours when you were a kid and a teenager.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked and your heart leapt at the pet name he used.

“It’s dumb, but... ugh, I wanted to ask you, if... ifIcouldsleepwithyoutonight,” you mumbled the last part so fast Bill wasn’t sure if he had understood you correctly.

“You want to sleep with me?” you could hear the smirk and that he didn’t sound as sleepy as before. But he knew you better than you thought because he told you to come over and he lifted the duvet for you. “Come here,” he said and walked quickly over the cold floor into the warm bed. A soft sigh left your mouth when you were surrounded by warmth.

Both of you laid on your back on each side on the bed and you let your hand find his before you fell into a deep sleep. You slept the best you’ve had for a long time, but same couldn’t be said about Bill. He couldn’t find sleep again with you laying next to him, your hand touching his. He wanted to pull you into his arms. Maybe he could sleep with his face pressed into your hair? But he didn’t want to wake you or make you feel uncomfortable so he stuck to this position with his thoughts going wild.

Bill pretended to be asleep when you woke up the next morning and gave you a few minutes before he left his room. But when you stepped into the hallway and closed the door quietly behind yourself George was greeting you with a shit eating grin on his face. “Morning,” he said without adding anything else. “Oh, shove it,” you said and walked past him towards your room. You didn’t see the point in telling him nothing had happened between you and his brother.

When Bill entered the kitchen his twin brothers were already there and of course George had told Fred what he had witnessed this morning. “So, did the shag help? Or were you too busy to even think about sleep,” Fred wiggled his eyebrows.

“Nothing happened,” Bill said and grabbed a cup.

“Too bad, so I think I have to offer my services then.”

“What services?” you asked when you entered the room.    

“Fred wants to expand our services for the shop,” George cut in.

“Tell me more,” you said after you filled a cup and sat down next to the trio. It didn’t take long for them to come up with something so they didn’t have to tell you what they really talked about.

Days passed, then weeks and it was an unspoken rule that you end up in Bills room after a failed attempt of going to sleep. You soon noticed that you couldn’t fall asleep because you didn’t want to be alone. And then it took a few days until you noticed you didn’t want to be without Bill. He made you laugh more and more. Like when you saw him pulling on a lumberjack jacket and asked him what he was doing. He had replied that he you needed more fire wood and you watched him through the kitchen window. You had seen how he picked up the axe without a problem and as if he had known that you were watching him, he slapped his butt with his free hand which caused you to laugh out loud and you had to hide behind the wall so he wouldn’t see that you had been watching him.

You also noticed that every night before you would leave the next day hugged you a little more and pulled you closer to himself. And when you came back, he still waited in the garden and grabbed your hand to guide you back to the house. Everyone noticed this but nobody commented on it. They noticed in the tentativeness when you grabbed his hand after hanging up your coat that the two of you hadn’t talked about what was happening between you.

And suddenly there wasn’t time to talk about it anymore. Suddenly the war was right in front of you with maybe the biggest battle and you had to get out of your hiding place. But in the way that Bill grabbed your hand with such determination and when you pulled you to himself and pressed his lips desperately against yours before you had to leave made you realise that you were in this together.  

[yeenybeanies]

Slaying Monsters

i started this three months ago, and decided it was time to finish it. i’ve been wanting to write a piece with dev & some other gang members for a while now i didn’t proofread it yet don’t @ me

red dead redemption | charles smith & devin clarke ( oc )

3,728 words

language, blood, & animal death warnings

thanks for reading!! reblogs > likes!! patreon | ko-fi

Unattended bags are always tempting to a borrower. It’s partly survival and partly curiosity that draws the little beings to bags and boxes and other such vessels that contain stuff. Ideally, that stuff would be useful. 

Such is Devin’s idea upon approaching a lone saddlebag. They’ve been watching it for a while now. It has remained unbothered and undisturbed atop a tree stump for over an hour. Surely there’s bound to be something good inside, what with the many members of the Van Der Linde gang constantly coming and going. And surely, whatever those contents may be, small amounts won’t be missed.

The coast is clear. The camp is preoccupied in tending to the daily duties; no one is paying the bag any mind. Devin makes a break for it, keeping low as they run through the grass, to the stump. They pause at the base and give the camp a quick look, pleased to see that no one has taken notice of their presence. For just a moment, they allow themself a prideful smirk, then they refocus on the task at hand: climb the stump and get in the bag. The former is hardly a challenge; deep cracks in the bark provide handholds enough that the borrower doesn’t need their hook or climbing equipment to scale it. Despite the strap and buckle keeping the bag shut, Devin is small enough to slip through a gap and reach the interior. 

The space is dark and cramped, but some light filters in through the gap they’d entered. The first thing Devin notices is the smell of leather and sweat, and fabric beneath their feet. Clothing. It’s best not to take anything from these; missing scraps from a shirt or a pair of pants would definitely be noticed. Deeper down, past the clothes, another smell becomes more prominent: something earthy and floral. That could be useful. Devin crawls through the mounds of fabric, navigating the musty space, until their hand brushes something soft. A bit more pawing around reveals it to be an umbel of little flowers. Intrigued, they grasp the stem and pull the plant into the light for better inspection. 

“ What the hell…. ”   White flowers, jagged leaves…. Devin scrunches their nose, confused. Is their plant identification knowledge failing them? Or is the owner of this bag an idiot? 

Pondering is short-lived. Footsteps approach from the outside––a human. Devin’s heart speeds up. They drop the plant and dive for cover within the clothes just as the bag is lifted. It sways in the air with the human’s long strides, most disorienting. When the swaying stops, the borrower remains hidden, knowing full-well that they are not safe yet. There’s an exchange of words overhead, a brief moment of stillness, and then the world starts tumbling. Devin clutches hard onto the clothing concealing them. Much to their chagrin, this particular jostling is painfully familiar. They’re on a horse. 

Somehow, being in a saddlebag is worse than being stuck under a hat. 

Fuck. 

Suppressing the sickening feeling in their stomach and the myriad of emotions swarming their brain, Devin fights against the horrible shaking and pushes their way out of the fabric folds. Climbing is significantly harder, but they still press on, going so far as to use their knife and hook for more purchase on the tough leather. Slowly but surely, they manage to reach the opening they’d initially climbed through and peek out. The wind whips and frays their hair and makes it difficult to see much of anything. They catch glimpses of the ground speeding below at breakneck speed, and at the horse’s white-and-grey spotted pelt. 

Most surprisingly, and to some relief, though, is the rider. The long, black hair and the big, sawed-off shotgun identify the man: “Charles!” 

Alas, their voice is unheard over the wind. Devin growls, frustrated, and retreats back into the relative safety of the saddlebag. There’s no use trying to get his attention right now. They’re just going to have to endure the bouncing and the shaking until he slows down. They can only pray that it’s soon.

———

Only an hour or so elapsed by the time the galloping slowed, though, to Devin, it felt like a lifetime. Despite their queasiness (courtesy of the bumpy ride), the borrower pushes free of the mountains of fabric and scrambles up the leathery interior, to the opening. They pause at the rim and focus on swallowing the bile in their throat, then, once it’s clear, level the back of the human’s head with a hard stare. 

They breathe in until their chest burns, and let out the loudest yell they can muster: “CHARLES!”  

The man jumps in his saddle and whips his head around, one hand to the shotgun on his hip. His eyes scan the horizon behind him, well over Devin’s head. 

“Down here. Hey!” They wave an arm, trying to ignore how foolish they feel. Even after months of being around Arthur, it still goes against everything they know as a borrower to flag down a human. 

Were the situation different—were Devin not currently fighting some ferocious nausea—they might find it comical how Charles’s expression changes. First he’s struck with recognition, eyes still on the horizon, and then the color in his face pales with realization and horror. Slowly, as if he were making every effort to delay the inevitable find, his gaze lowers to the gap under the saddle bag flap and the little borrower peeking out. 

“Devin?” It still takes him a moment to process their presence, and then he’s all but falling out of the saddle (much to his horse’s displeasure). After he’s got his feet on the ground and his balance under control, the man unbuckles the saddlebag lid and flips it open. The color is rapidly returning to his face in a heated flush. “M-Miss Clarke, I didn’t know you were—why are you in my bag?” His hand nears them, but Devin waves it off. 

“Don’t. I might puke. It’s a marvel that I haven’t already.” They try to suppress a shudder.  “I didn’t know this was your bag. I just saw it sitting back at the camp, untouched for some time. Thought I could get something useful.” 

Charles grimaces sympathetically and lets his hand come to rest on his horse’s flank. He isn’t thrilled to hear that someone was rummaging through his belongings for things to scavenge, but such behavior is to be expected from a borrower, he figures. It does make him feel a little better to know that Devin hadn’t been targeting him specifically. 

“I should take you back to camp. Arthur would kill me if something happened to you.” Never mind the berating Charles would give himself. He might not know Devin as well as Arthur does, but their charm is infectious. They are well on their way to having another human wrapped around their teeny tiny finger. 

“I’d like that. Eventually. But I don’t think I can take much more galloping right now. Riding in Arthur’s hat was better than riding in here.” The borrower leans over the leather with a quiet groan. The nausea is subsiding, albeit slowly. They do stiffen just a little when Charles lightly rubs a knuckle to their back, but the gentle pressure draws another, more content groan from their tiny lungs. 

“I'm alright,” they say after a minute. They glance up at Charles, offering him a weak but grateful smile, and then look to their surroundings. It’s not anywhere they recognize, but that’s not surprising. “So where are we going? ” 

“Well, I was going out foraging,” the man says. “Now that you’re here, though…” He trails off, uncertain. 

“Oh! Speaking of foraging–––” the borrower vanishes back into the bag, leaving Charles perplexed. Once they emerge again, they hold up a sprig of white flowers. “What the hell are you doing with this?” 

Charles squints at the plant, then raises his brow in realization. “You know what that is?” 

The surprise in his voice is a little insulting. Devin scrunches their nose. “Don’t patronize me, Mr. Smith. I’ve lived in the wild most of my life. I know what water hemlock is.” 

He holds his hands up and offers an apologetic shrug. “That’s actually what I was going to forage for. I found some while I was out with Javier the other day, but I didn’t have time to collect more.” 

“Okay.”  Devin inspects the flowers, twirling the stem between their hands. “Still doesn’t explain what you’re going to do with it. Are you planning to poison someone? Is it that Micah guy?” 

That earns them a snort. If only. “No. I use it on my knives and arrowheads. That and oleander sage. Gives them an extra kick.” 

Devin frowns, just a smidge disappointed.  “I suppose that’s a good alternative use. I used to do the same with my knife when I could find hemlock.” They drop the sprig and watch it fall to the ground far below. “It’d be so easy to poison Micah though…” They say so only half-jokingly. 

“Don’t I know it.” Charles shares the sentiment, but he shakes his head. Much as he’d like to see that snake gone, it’s not his place to do anything about his presence. Yet. 

Now that the nausea has passed (for the most part), the borrower pulls themself from the bag and climbs up the saddle, making their way up to the seat. “I’m okay now,” they say. “We’ve already come this far. We might as well go get that hemlock. I can use it too.”

Charles looks a little uncertain, but when he opens his mouth to protest, Devin levels him with a hard stare that makes him think twice. He clears his throat. “Why don’t you ride up here with me?” he offers. “It’d probably be a bit smoother.” 

Smoother would certainly be welcomed. Devin nods and climbs onto the man’s hand when it’s brought down to their level. His skin is warm and rough, similar to Arthur’s hands. Unlike Arthur, though, he carries them with greater caution. Devin pats his thumb. 

“Relax. I’m not made of paper.”  

“Er… right.”  

They can’t fault him for his caution. Charles has significantly less experience handling Devin than does Arthur. If anything, it’s comforting to know that he is actively trying to keep them comfortable. 

He grabs the saddlehorn with his free hand and hauls himself up. First he brings them to his lap, and then, after thinking, lifts them higher to his shoulder, where they climb off. Devin sits just outside of his beaded necklace and takes a handful of his hair. 

“Is this going to bother you?” 

“No, it’s fine. Use what you need. Let me know if you start to slip.” 

Once he’s sure Devin is secure––as secure as they can be on his shoulder––he spurs his horse gently in the ribs. They set off at a slow canter, something a bit less bumpy than the gallop before. Charles is correct: it’s more comfortable riding on his shoulder than it was in the bag, if only a little bit. Devin resigns themself to the reality that they will likely never enjoy travel on horseback, but this is at least tolerable. 

Charles is silent for the most part, which doesn’t bother Devin. They find themself occupied looking at the scenery. From their usual vantage point on the ground, they don’t much get to appreciate views of mountains and trees and vast prairies. Even on the off occasion that they hitch a ride on Arthur’s person, they often take to hiding in his scarf, thus dashing any chances of catching the view. 

Despite the ride’s discomfort, Devin finds themself enjoying this. They are grateful, though, when Charles tugs the reins and brings the horse to a gradual stop. He spares them a glance when they sigh. 

“You doing okay?” 

“Just peachy.” Devin gives the shoulder beneath them a pat. He dismounts rather awkwardly, trying not to jostle them too much. 

It strikes Devin that they have not just one, but two humans invested in their safety and comfort. It leaves them with mixed feelings fluttering about in their chest. 

Best not to dwell on it right now. 

Walking is a little choppy at first, what with Charles figuring out how best to adjust his gait with Devin on his shoulder, but, once he figures out a good rhythm, it smooths out. He steps carefully, eyes scanning the ground for the plants he seeks. Devin watches too, though they’re less focused on the hemlock and more interested in… well, everything else. Hemlock is but one plant in a new area full of things to explore. 

“Hey. Let me down.” Devin gives the man’s hair a light tug, drawing his attention back to them. Though he can’t fully look at them from where they sit, he still furrows his brow in an uncertain expression meant for them. Devin rolls their eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m a big boy, Charles; I walk around on my own every day.”

“I’m sure, but–––”

“Either you let me down or I’m jumping.” That seems to work. Charles acquiesces with a reluctant sigh and gingerly helps the borrower down to the ground. He remains crouched after they hop off of his hand, still looking unsure. Devin waves up at him. “Go on. Keep doing what you were doing. I’m fine.” 

“Yell if you get into trouble,” he says, voice stern. Devin chooses not to take offense. 

“Sure thing.” They part with a final wave and dart off into the grass, out of the human’s view. Still he hesitates, but he does eventually get up and carry on with his task. Devin breathes out an exasperated breath. 

Having the care and concern of two humans is endearing, yes, but it can also be annoying. Devin might need to have a stern talk with the both of them if they keep this overprotective behavior up. They aren’t a child.

Charles does not feel good about just leaving Devin on the ground, but it wouldn’t have been right of him to hold them like some helpless creature. They’ve reminded him twice now that this is the life they live; he makes a mental note to try and be more respectful of that. After all, he reasons that he wouldn’t much appreciate it if someone else tried to keep him from doing the things he does every day. He isn’t palm-sized, but he imagines Devin still doesn’t care to be doted over. So he bites back his unease. He came out here for water hemlock. That’s what he’s going to find. Devin will be okay. 

Following the nearby creek, Charles begins his search. He tests the soil beneath him with his foot, feeling its spring, its moisture, then starts scanning. Familiar white flowers speckle the banks. A faint smile creeps onto his lips. There’s plenty here for him to make use of.

–– –– ––

Devin pushes through the tall foliage, looking high and low for anything that might be useful. They find medicinal herbs, and spices for seasoning. Mentally they commend Charles; he sure knows where to look when it comes to valuable natural resources. Some of these plants are a rare find back at Horseshoe Outlook. They pick and take as much as they can carry, stuffing their bag full. 

All is going fine. It’s going great, even. They’re making their way back down to the ground, munching on a sweet, juicy raspberry. The red fruit soaks their hands, their face, and their clothes, making them appear as though they’d just mauled something. It makes them snicker, thinking how Charles will react to see them like this. Their good humor dies suddenly, though. Devin feels a chill rush down their spine. They pause, alert, head on a swivel. 

In an instant, everything seems to slow down. Devin drops to the ground as a pink, gaping mouth sails just a hair’s breadth over their head. It snaps shut, long fangs closing around air, and the scaly head of a rattlesnake retreats back to its coils, gearing up for another strike. Berry forgotten, Devin pulls their knife and their hook out. They stare the snake down just as it does them. It’s big––not just to them, but by rattlesnake standards. It’s a big fucking snake. The borrower’s heart races in their chest, but they don’t run, nor do they back down.

–– –– ––

Charles takes several clippings of water hemlock and carefully stows them in his satchel. He doesn’t take everything that he sees, not wanting to clear the area of the deadly plant, but he’s pleased with his haul so far. Already he has enough to coat his knives twice over, so he thinks that he could probably give Arthur and Javier some as well, so as not to waste it. He takes a few more stalks, then stands and stretches his back, arms held out to the side. 

“That’s enough,” he mumbles to himself. He turns back to where he’d left Devin and scans the ground. Their tiny footprints are just barely visible in the dirt, and disappear into the grass. 

“Miss Clarke?” he calls, taking a knee near the footprints. They don’t answer. “I think I’m just about done here, so I’m ready to go when you––woah––!” The man jumps back as a rattlesnake head pushes through the grasses. Layers of alarm spike in his brain: it’s a big-ass snake; Devin isn’t here; it has blood on its face; Did it eat Devin––? 

“Just ‘Devin,’ Charles,” says the tiny voice. Charles flinches again. He swears he heard that voice coming from the snake. Did it eat them? He stares on in confusion, pondering whether or not he needs to cut the damn thing open, when its head flops to the side. Hauling it along is the little borrower. 

“Oh my god. Are you––did the snake–––?” He stammers over his words, which surprises Devin. Arthur stammers here and there, but Charles is always so clear and calm when he speaks. They glance down at themself, noting the red stain and slick coating their hands, their head, their clothes… 

“Ah! It’s okay! This isn’t––” they drop the snake and wave their hands, trying to placate the man, “I’m okay! This is all snake blood! And raspberry juice.”

Charles still looks horrified, glancing between the borrower and the rattlesnake. He does note that the blood seems to be coming from a deep wound on its head, right between its vacant eyes. 

“You… killed it?” He gathers himself on his knees and leans forward, gingerly prodding the lifeless body. 

“It tried to kill me first,” they say, sounding almost indignant. “Kinda lucky, though. I haven’t taken down a rattlesnake in a while. I can use it’s fangs and its venom.” 

Charles lifts the carcass from the ground, testing its weight in his hands. His eyebrows shoot up at its heft. When he stands with its head at eye-level, its rattle-tipped tail still touches the ground. 

It’s a big fucking snake. 

“You… killed this monster?” He can’t hide the disbelief––or perhaps it’s awe––in his eyes as he looks back down to Devin.

They huff back up at him, trying not to take offense. “Yeah. I did,” they say, arms crossed over their chest. Charles waves his free hand. 

“I don’t––I don’t mean to doubt you Miss––er, Devin. Sorry, I’m just… impressed.” Impressed would be an understatement. 

Devin rolls their eyes. They adjust their bag and their knife, then trudge on towards Charles. Before they can ask him to, he stoops down and lowers a hand for them to climb onto. Once he has them at his level, Charles can see their annoyance clear as day. 

“I tell you––both you and Arthur, you need to understand that I’m not helpless. I’ve lived my whole life out here. Half of it’s been alone. So spare me your patronizing looks and comments.” There’s venom in their eyes, in their words, as present as that in the venom in the snake’s fangs. 

Charles has no hand free to hold up, but he does dip his head apologetically. “You’re right. I admit, I underestimated you. And I’m sorry for it. I’ve never met anyone like you before, and it’s a learning process.” 

Devin’s features soften a little. They sigh and run a hand through their blood-slicked hair. It’s gross, but it’s not the first time they’ve been covered in blood. It won’t be the last time either. 

“I like you, Charles. A lot. It’s a learning process for me too.” They offer him a half smile, though it does look a bit daunting with their red visage. “I think I’m ready to go home now.” 

The man grimaces. “Think you want to… wash off first? Arthur is going to have a fit if he sees you like this.” 

Devin looks down to themself, returning the grimace. “...yeah, probably. What I can, at least.” The blood wasn’t going to come out of their clothes without any soap, but they could wash their skin and hair off. Maybe they could hide their outerwear from Arthur, too. They had their underclothing on that wouldn’t show bloodstains. 

Rattlesnake draped around his neck, Charles carries the borrower down to the creek and crouches at the bank. He brings his hands down for them to hop off and clean themself off. When they start stripping their outerwear, he turns his head to give them some privacy, and waits for them to draw his attention again when they’re done. Damp, but cleaner, and left in their long underclothes, Devin climbs back into Charles’ hands and scurries up to his shoulder, right next to the snake carcass. 

“You good?” He asks. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” they say. They give his shoulder a pat. 

Charles stands, still a bit awkward with his passenger, but less so than before. “Pearson is gonna love this snake,” he says, tongue in cheek.

Devin bristles and glares daggers at the man. “This snake is my prize. That man is getting none of it. You can have some of it if you want, since you’re carrying it home, but I’m not sharing it with anyone else.” There’s that venom again.

Charles snorts. He pulls himself into his saddle and spurs his horse, gently pushing her to start trotting. “Right. Of course. My apologies, Devin.” 

[thepeakygurl]

Can we get a John x reader I really don’t have anything specific in mind 🥺 just maybe that he ends up meeting reader while he’s already married or something, make it angsty but with a fluffy ending pls 😈

A/N: I went a bit out of script with this one, but my reasons is that I want to do a part 2 of this one with the possibility of doing a love triangle, but you readers would have to tell me who you want as John’s rivals. I really hope you like it. I was so inspired by this one. Romantic John is my favourite John! @huskyhunny thank you for requesting babes again sorry changing stuff, but I promise the angst and the fluff will come in due time! Hope you enjoy it✨

The Royal Ballet | Part 1

John Shelby x Fem!Reader

Scenario

That night was cold you recalled. You were right up on stage, ready to give your best performance, but the wind that was whispering through the stage made you shiver and as a result you tilted back a little. You heard the director of the opera murmuring you to stay still, as the curtain and drapes where starting to open and reveal you. In your harmonious posture, with a sateen white dress covering your body, but revealing your legs and your ballet shoes. When the music started to play, your body started to move along with it. You gracefully dance from a corner to another, spinning and jumping. You hair was free on you shoulders an artistic choice made by the director who was now trying to take a peek at the audience.

Amazed. The audience couldn’t take their eyes off the amazing ballerina that everyone was hearing about lately. Y/N Y/S, the artist that everyone wanted to see swinging on stage. You were known best to be the first act of the Royal Ballet in London and also, the reason why everyone bought the ticket in the first place. There was something about how your gracefully made art using your body that simply left everyone in the urge of wanting more and more.

Soon enough even the most influent please in the City had to have a taste of what you could do, and that was one of those night. You recalled hearing the director speaking about how the Peaky Blinders reserved some tickets, the best seats. However you couldn’t believe that such men would have spent their hours into watching the show, you knew that there was more, but you couldn’t crush the director’s hopes.

Thomas, Arthur and John Shelby were all there, seated in the best seats, but they attention were elsewhere - or part of their attention -.

Thomas was seated next to Darcy Sabini, trying to have a decent and peaceful business conversation, he took the chance knowing Sabini wouldn’t ruin the spectacle as he invested in the theatre and part of the money made that night was his. Arthur was carefully listening to their conversation, seated by his Thomas’ side, he had a hand inside his jacket, holding his gun and was ready to take it out at any time. The youngest brother however, forgot about the purpose of their attendance for a second. He was completely drawn by how your body was moving and how your face was telling so many stories in such a short time. His eyes couldn’t stop looking at you, how your dress sometimes lifted revealing a gown that was meticulously fitted around your body, how your hair covered your face whenever you spinned and the smile you would always make whenever your eyes looked over to the audience. Your skin glowing with all the lights pointing at you and the way you would end up on your feet after every scary jump. Those shoes must hurt, he thought. Spectacular that was spectacular. When your act was over and you came closer to the audience to take your compliments and applauses, you smiled and took a little bow, before running to the backstage in order for the second act to start and so the other ballerinas came in, giving the start to another magical story. John looked at Arthur and Thomas, both still in the middle of the conversation. If he did his move now, he would have probably came back before the second act was over so he slowly started to stand up. Arthur as the eagle he was, looked over him and grabbed his jacket “Where you think you’re going? Sit your arse down”

“Got to use the loo, you wouldn’t want something else to be sit in this seat with my arse ye” John quickly explained, which made Arthur relax as he walked away.

He didn’t even notice if the girl was beautiful, at this point it didn’t matter, her essence was beyond the door of beauty, but he knew that if he didn’t talk to that angel she would have come into his dreams and made them sweet nightmares. So he stepped quickly into the backstage, hoping that his brothers would have still leaned their attention to Sabini. Surprisingly no one was there to stop his, the place was filled with costumes and jewels, he was surprised that with so many choices, the girl was only wearing a simply white dress. But then he thought that maybe it was the perfect choice as she was brighter that millions of them jewels.

You were in the middle of changing your dress for the last act, a tribute to Romeo and Juliet, that required you to wear a more elegant and complicated costume. There was two of the assistants that were helping you tighten the corset “Easy now..” you moaned when one of them laces were pulled suddenly. When you looked at yourself in the mirror to make sure your corset was fitted properly, you saw his reflection as well and that made you gasped in surprised.

And he was surprised as much as you were, his cheeks slightly turning into a deep red as he watched how the corset made your body bloom into its shape. “I am sorry I didn’t want to intrude.” He quickly said turning himself to give you the chance to cover yourself.

“We don’t usually receive admirers during the play” you said, telling the two assistants to quickly fix your skirt and so they did and left. “Perhaps you could tell me who you were looking for and come back at the end of the play” you suggested and walked towards him.

When he heard your voice closer now, he turned to face you and that’s when it hit me. Not just talented as an angel, heaven gifted you also with beauty. He couldn’t help but smile at you “I’m here for you” he said “I couldn’t resist and wait the end of the play, I hope you won’t mind my impatience, but I desperately wanted to meet the woman that is now going to haunt my dreams”

And you chuckled, never in your life you met someone so blunt, blunt and handsome. Such light blue eyes that you could swear to have seen some clouds in them “No one ever complained about me haunting their dreams.” You said. He took a few steps closer, but you didn’t move, instead you bit your lips trying to hold a smile.

“Maybe, only if you allow it, they could turn into sweet dreams” he said slowly sliding the tips of his fingers through your arm, and that made you shiver ten times more than the cold surrounding the stage. He gently held your hand in his and took it close to him so he could place a small kiss on it. Such a small and usual contact, but it made your whole body burn. “I’m John Shelby, and you are?”

You proceeded and say your name. You were by then already drowning in his eyes that it took you a few seconds before you actually realised who he said he was. But did it really matter? So charming and handsome, two combination that always got you smitten. You let go of his hand that he was still smartly keeping on yours “You said you came here for me, but I don’t see any flowers, or rather compliments coming out of your mouth. I thought you were an admirer” you said, now allowing yourself some space and you moved closer to the mirror to do your make up.

John felt his chest less heavier now that he had some space within you two. Having you so close and not being able to do anything but looking at you with desire was nothing but torture “I’m not that type of admirer miss Y/S” he said while lighting up a cigarette “You were stunning, but my eyes looked over the artist and saw a woman” he justified himself and his presence there, the cigarette slowly burning out in his lips as he was too drawn in your curves and how you moved to even care about smoking.

And you almost forgot you were putting lipstick on as you stopped, your arm lifted in the air with your hand close to your lips with a small red tinted brush, looking at him through the mirror again “Correct if I’m wrong, but I believe to have seen a ring on your finger” you said, now turning towards him once again, your back touch the edge of the table and your arms crossed to your chest, a small smile over your lips now that he was all stiff and his chest less puffed. “Married in front of God and now using words to allure another woman?”

John was really one that would go to church or act before the name of God, after all he couldn’t possibly do such a thing and do what he does at the same time. So he just smiled back “God himself couldn’t resists to temptation and made us, in all shapes, colours and form. Who am I then to not allow myself of the pleasure of having a conversation with you? God made us to be happy, I’m quite happy right now if you ask me” And he finally decided to turn off the cigarette, placing it behind his ear.

You couldn’t help yourself but laugh. He looked so young but so manly at the same time, a bit of an unrefined look, but such languid words “You don’t love your wife then?”

“Love can mean many things” he answered deceiving your question.

“Do you love her?” You asked again.

“I am loving you right now.” He then said.

And that did something to your heart and stomach, that quickly came filled with butterflies. “I have another act in lees then five minutes, perhaps you could take me home and tell me more about your perception of love” you said with a bright smile and your face, which he quickly to returned. If only you knew how much trouble that offer of yours would have gotten you into...

[lost-in-fanfic]

The Woman - Thomas Shelby x Reader  (Part 1)

A/N : I could not get this idea out of my head so I’ve had a go at writing it down. I hope people enjoy it :) I want to do the idea justice so am going to split into parts. Not my GIF and I don’t give permission for anyone to use my work.

Warnings : Reference to past abuse, mentions of murder, to be honest the usual things you’d expect from a Peaky fic.

A brief summary: (Y/N) has come to Small Heath with a job to to, a job she’s done before, but never has she come into contact with anyone like Tommy Shelby.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word Count: 1464

Walking into The Garrison that night none of the Shelby family noticed anything untoward, there was the usual smell of stale smoke mingled with the scent of working men and the sounds of drunken conversations, but nothing to suggest any danger.  They made their way into their private snug and Harry, the bar keeper, followed quickly behind with glasses and a bottle of Irish whisky.

What they should have noticed was the man in the corner, on the opposite side of the front door to the snug, with his head resting on his left hand, his hat pulled over his eyes, a glass of whisky in front of him and lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. If any of them had noticed him, they would have seen that the man apparently drinking himself into a stupor had his cigarette dangling from surprisingly feminine lips.

(Y/N) had decided upon disguising herself as a man, when going to The Garrison that night, as soon as she had arrived in Small Heath the day before. Part of her job, her survival mechanism, was to blend in. She would simply become part of the surroundings allowing her to go unnoticed until it was simply to late for the person, she was watching to do anything except surrender. Most of the time the fact she was a woman worked in her advantage, men seemed to pay so little attention to women that she could slip past all their protection and defences with just a smile. The Garrison, however, had not struck her as the sort of place a woman could sit quietly and not draw attention to herself.

Another part of her job was research, and she was very thorough. When the Shelby’s had walked in, she had known exactly who was who. Polly was easy to spot, the strong matriarch commanding the room as soon as she entered, a woman who was used to respect. Next were Arthur and John, the eldest and the third of the brothers, both had a smile on their face and a glint in their eye that suggested they were there for a good night. Last in was Tommy Shelby himself, he was the only one whose eyes even passed over (Y/N) as he scanned the room. (Y/N) could not help but admit to herself that he was just as handsome and intimidating as she had heard and yet he was the one she was here to kill.

(Y/N) tried to never lookback in life, the past held no happy memories for her so why dwell in it? Growing up in an orphanage, where there was no kindness or love, it had been a case of become hardened to pain or break. The first person she had killed had been in self defence when she was 14, she did not even know his name. The home, if you could call it that, she had been living in at the time was being visited by one of their generous benefactors and he had decided that the cost of his donation was her. Well (Y/N) had other ideas about that and when he laughed at her asking him to stop, she had swung a log from the basket next to the fire at his head. The sickening crack and the way he fell to the floor should probably have made (Y/N) vomit, but instead she took his wallet, rings and watch and climbed out the window.

Since then, she had grown a business in an underground and dark world and what she did, she did well. There were rules of course, every business had to have rules, she would not do anything if a child would see or be at risk, she would always do her own research, get half the money upfront every time and never meet with a client face to face so they would always assume she was a man. Who would ever look for a woman when they were expecting a hardened hitman? The most important rule, however, was that she would not kill if she didn’t think they deserved it. For example, she often took care of abusive husbands whose wives had grown tired of abuse, but she had refused a job offered to her by a Lord who wanted the man his daughter had eloped with killed. The Lord had written that his daughter had been tricked and was stuck in the marriage against her will, but (Y/N) had done her research. Watching them from a distance it was clear they were in love and happy, so she had returned the money, refused the job, and warned the couple just what the woman’s father was capable of.

Being in Birmingham for over 24 hours had allowed (Y/N) plenty of time to investigate what sort of man Tommy Shelby was. His reputation was known even in London where she lived, but she had not been hired to kill him because of his reputation. There was a story, a specific reason that she had been given, to justify what she had been paid to do, and until she had checked out if that story was true, she couldn’t make the decision about whether or not to carry out the hit. She was staying at a boarding house run by a lady called Mrs Bathurst, who had thought nothing of renting a room for a week to a young woman who was in Birmingham to visit friends and attend a job interview. Mrs Bathurst was a lonely woman, who after a few gins had a loose tongue, last night she had happily regaled (Y/N) with stories she had heard at the market about the leader of the Peaky Blinders and how he had almost been brought down by a woman.

Putting out her cigarette and drinking the remnants of her whisky, (Y/N) took a piece of paper out of her pocket and a pen. Scribbling a quick note and folding it up she walked out of The Garrison, completely unnoticed by every man in there. Across the street she saw a boy kicking a ball against the end of the row of houses. Recognising him as the youngest Shelby she quietly walked up to him. “Finn isn’t it?” the boy jumped at her words turning around to face her he was baffled as to why the woman was dressed like a dock worker. “Who’s asking?” he said, puffing out his chest and standing up as tall as he could. “I’m a friend of Tommy’s, I forgot to give him this, but I’m in a massive hurry would you run it into him?” (Y/N) held out the note to Finn, her voice was so calm and confident that Finn didn’t even doubt her, but he had learnt enough to know nothing was free. (Y/N) chuckled to herself “I’ll give you a sixpence to do it. A bob if you don’t read it” Finn smiled and held out is hand “Shilling” he answered. Pulling the shilling out of her pocket and handing it to him with the note she smiled and walked off down the street.

Tommy leant back in his chair not really listening to what Arthur and John were arguing about and certainly not paying any attention to the look he was getting from Polly. It was a mix of worry and expectation and she had looked at him like it for the past year. Ever since Grace had left. Finn suddenly burst through the snug doors a look of glee on his face. “Look I got a shilling of my own,” he said holding it up for his brothers and Aunt to see, “I earnt it myself, so can I bet with it tomorrow on the horses?”

“No, you bloody can’t.” snapped Polly, Finn’s face falling. “What did you do to earn that shilling then Finn?” Tommy asked looking at his brother, a feeling of sympathy deep in him, he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of a snapping Polly. “Lady give it me, said I could have it if I gave you this and didn’t read it. Funny lady though, she was dressed up like a docker.” Finn held out the note to his brother. Tommy’s brow furrowed as he took the note.

Mr Shelby,

I have been hired to kill you. Before I decide if I will, I would like to meet you.

9am tomorrow in The Garrison, just you or I won’t come. I promise not to kill you in the meeting.

W

Tommy bolted out onto the street and looked around, but it was useless, there were simply to many people around to know who to look for. He had already decided though, he would be back here tomorrow morning at 9am.

@comebackjessica​

[twinkleton]

at the end of the century - douxie x reader

Whew, this was a douzy to write! I'm so sorry about the wait, maybe it's length will make up for it! This is part two to my last fic, so be sure to give the first part a read if ya haven't! I wanted to include a familiar for the reader, but it just didn't make sense for the story. I'll happily write another fic that has a reader with one if anyone would like! Also, to avoid confusion, this takes place during the "first" battle at killahead. No time travel going on yet, obviously it's changed to where Douxie is involved in the fight. Hope you guys like it!

Tags: @purplesinnerw @clarencebells

As per usual for Camelot, its streets were bustling with its citizens up bright and early for morning shopping. Traders were bartering their newfound treasures, and parents were buying food and supply for their families. For Y/N however, she was neither a trader or a member of a family. She had nothing, except her magic. Of course she felt terrible tricking people into looking the other way while she grabbed onto a loaf of bread or an extra shirt she’d need, but in order to survive it’s what she had to do. After a while, the guilt can subside. She’d rather be doing this than have to rely on anyone ever again.

Still, as she leaned back against a wall, taking a bite out an apple she’d taken earlier, she couldn’t help but feel jealous at the sight of a little girl on top of her father’s shoulders, laughing along with her mother without a care in the world. She’d argued it was because of having to look at someone so privileged, but really it was because of having to look at someone so loved.

---------

Three years later,

Tensions had reached their peak between Morgana and King Arthur, and a war was about to begin against Gunmar and his army of Gumm-Gumms. Morgana had had enough of his mistreatment of magical creatures, therefore her loyalty to him was hanging by a thread. It didn’t seem enough that Arthur seeked help from the trolls of Dyoza, as she believed he only saw them as pawns. 

Back in Merlin’s study, him, Douxie, and Archie were discussing how to prepare for the upcoming battle, more specifically, what to do about Y/N. 

“No, we are not leaving her here!” Douxie shouts at Merlin. Archie gives him a concerned look.

“Douxie…” he says, trying to calm his friend.

“No, Y/N has never given us any reason to doubt her. How could you suggest such an idea as to lock her up until the battle is over? What has she ever done to deserve that?!”

“Hisirdoux, this is not about what she has done, but she potentially could do. We know how close she is to Morgana, and Morgana will say or do anything to persuade her to be on her side. With Y/N she has an advantage, an extra card in her deck. Keeping her here is only a precaution. It’s a way to keep Y/N safe and to keep Morgana from being stronger,” Merlin explains. 

Douxie isn’t convinced by that. He knows Y/N. He knows that she would not want to be stuck here while the rest of them go off and risk their lives for Camelot. And if Morgana sees her on their side, maybe Y/N could be the one to convince her to stop. 

“Clearly you’ve forgotten that she was the one that stopped me from bringing dark shadows into Camelot. Ever since she’s been here she’s done nothing except be the kindest and most understanding out of all of us. There’s nothing Morgana could say or do that would convince her to go against that.”

“I’m with Douxie,” Archie agrees. “Surely Merlin, you can have a little more faith in the girl. And with her training from Morgana, she could be our biggest asset against her and Gunmar.”

Douxie gives him a scratch behind the ear, silently thanking him. Archie beams at him. 

Merlin gives a sigh in defeat, not willing to argue anymore about the subject. “Alright, we won’t keep her here. However, should she side with Morgana, I fear her safety will be gravely-”

“What are the three of you up to?” As if summoned by them talking about her, Y/N walks in. 

All three of them stop in their tracks, faces blanched.

Douxie decides to sacrifice himself in explaining. “N-nothing Y/N! We were just uh..trying to calm down Archie! You know him, always been a scaredy-cat,” he nervously chuckles, picking up Archie and frantically petting him. Archie’s face screams unenthused.

“Ah yes, frightened I am.”

Y/N giggles at the absurdity going on. She walks over to Douxie, saving Archie from him. He relaxes in her arms, belly exposed for Y/N to give light scritches. 

“Aw, it’s alright, Arch. I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you, okay?” she playfully reassures. Despite obviously not needing the comfort, Archie purrs at that. Much like everyone she’s come across since being here, Archie full-heartedly loved her.

Merlin takes the opportunity to leave the room. “I must go. There’s still much to be done before the battle.” He stops at the door, turning to look at Y/N. “We all trust you, Y/N. Please, don’t let that be a mistake.”

She understands what he meant by that, and stays silent. Merlin takes his leave.

Douxie glares at where Merlin was standing moments ago. “Don’t listen to him. We know you’d make the right call with Morgana.”

Y/N lets Archie out of her arms, the familiar jumping onto the table. “I don’t know what to do. Morgana is adamant that Arthur will never see through his hatred with magickind.”

“Don’t you see Y/N? This is the only way to stop my brother and his tyranny.” Morgana had been hiding away, deep in the forest. The only person she trusted with her location was Y/N, on the condition that she swore not to reveal it to anyone else, or else their lives would be the first one targeted in the upcoming war. Y/N agreed to the terms. 

“And you honestly believe Camelot or the world even would be safer with someone like Gunmar? Once he defeats Arthur, there would be nothing to stop him from conquering everyone, including you. The world would be in shambles,” Y/N insists. It pained her heart arguing against Morgana, the first person in the longest time she’d felt safe with. It wasn’t easy for Morgana either. 

“What have I been trying to tell you from the moment you set foot in that castle? Arthur fears us, he fears Gunmar, me, and you. Magic is nothing to be afraid of. You’ve seen the wondrous things magic can do.”

“And I’ve also witnessed the horrible things it’s capable of. I know magic can be good, but people like Gunmar have to be stopped. Please Morgana, you can still do the right thing,” Y/N pleads.

Morgana turns her back on her apprentice, beginning to walk away. “The same could be said for you, my dear.” 

Despite her best efforts, Y/N can’t stop a tear from falling out of her eye. Douxie immediately walks over to comfort her, wrapping his arms around her. 

“I’m afraid, Doux,” she admits, grabbing onto the front of his tunic. “I spent years not trusting anyone, fending for myself, and the whole time I was so lonely.” Soft whimpers could be heard coming from her.

Douxie begins softly petting the back of her head, patiently waiting for her to continue. 

“Morgana was the one who saved me from that life, who gave me hope. She felt like the mother I never had.”

She slightly pulls away from Douxie, wanting to look at him. Looking into her grief-stricken eyes made Douxie almost want to agree to Merlin’s plan of keeping her here, just so she wouldn’t have to face Morgana. He knows she wouldn’t want to do that however.

“What if she’s gone after this? Will I be left all alone again?” Deep down she knows she wouldn’t be alone, but her paranoia was telling her other things.

“Never,” Douxie assures. He pushes her hair away from her face, pressing his hands against her cheeks. “I promise, darling. You will never feel alone ever again,” he swears. Y/N’s fears melt away with his words, her eyes refusing to leave his. They didn’t notice how close they had gotten until Archie interrupted. He hops onto Douxie’s shoulders, causing him to let go of Y/N in order to regain his balance. He lets out a huff of annoyance, with Archie giving him a cheeky smile. 

“Don’t worry dear Y/N. No matter what happens, Doux and I will always be here for you.” She smiles at that, giving Archie a loving pat on his head. 

“Thank you, Archie,” she says, looking back at Douxie to grin at him, implying that their moment wasn’t finished. Douxie gets the hint.

--------

Deya slams her amulet into the bridge, opening up the portal to seal away Gunmar and his army. Y/N had stayed with the trolls of Dyoza to help them against the Gumm-Gumms, leaving Merlin, Douxie, and Archie to defeat Morgana. 

The fight had gone too long for Merlin who was injured, weakening his magic. Archie had been knocked out earlier by a strong blow from Morgana. Douxie was holding his own despite Morgana being far stronger than him, however it didn’t last long. 

Pushing her hands away from her, a huge burst of dark wind cascaded the arena they were in, leaving Douxie and Merlin blind. Morgana seized the opportunity to trap them, tying them up in rope created by her magic. They struggled against them, but there was no use. Morgana started cackling with glee, believing she bested them.

“You fools! You should’ve known better than to go against me. You wasted your lives trying to protect my cowardly brother, and now all your squabbling will be for nothing!” Morgana rises into the air and raises her hand, a strong light pulsing from it, no doubt from her charging her final blow against them. 

Douxie frantically looks around for any sign of help or weapon to use. Finding nothing, his last resort is to use words.

“Morgana! Think about Y/N! You know she doesn’t want this!” he shouts, desperation clear in his words.

“Don’t act as if you care about what she wants! You only see her as your puppet, another pawn for you to use! She and all magickind will finally be free once all of you are gone!” A final pulse comes from her hand, the light so bright it hurts to even glance at. All hope deferred, Douxie’s final wish was for the truth to be heard. 

“You’re wrong! Y/N was the reason I changed for the better! I used to be whiny and immature-”

“Hisirdoux! Now’s not the time for a heart to heart!” Merlin interrupts.

Douxie ignores him, “I used to be bitter about the hand I was given, but Y/N gave me a reason to be grateful for what I had! She’s the brightest out of all of us, and I’m so, so lucky to have met her, befriended her, and fallen in love with her!” A wave of peace fills Douxie, accepting his fate. 

His words have left Morgana speechless. Doubt floods her mind, for the first time since this battle began. However, she snaps back into her fury. 

“Very well, you can die with a peace of mind. I’ll tell Y/N all about your feelings for her while she grieves over your dead body,” she maliciously answers. She throws her hand down, an enormous beam of light launches from her hand.

Douxie closes his eyes, waiting for the feeling of burning skin to come, but it never does.

“There won’t be any need for that, Morgana!”

He recognizes that voice, and his eyes shoot open. The ground beneath them shakes, as Y/N throws up a shield so large, it sends Morgana’s magic flying all across the other side of the room, most of it hitting Morgana herself. She lets out a cry, falling to the floor. 

Y/N sprints over to Merlin and Douxie, freeing them from the ropes.

Douxie gleefully says, “Y/N! You made it! You’re okay- how much of that did you hear?”

Y/N giggles, “Just that last bit. You know, the important bit.”

Douxie lets out an embarrassed chuckle. Archie, having finally woken up, flies over to the couple. “I’d hate to interrupt this lovely reunion, but we do have a ninth-level sorceress to take care of.”

They all turn towards Morgana. “Right, let’s finish this,” Douxie commands.

Douxie and Archie team up, using magic and fire to seal Morgana in a ring of flames. Morgana growls in anger. Y/N puts up shields all around her friends, blocking any of Morgana’s attacks from hitting them. When Morgana shoots her magic at Y/N, Merlin defends her, the bolt ricocheting off his staff and back towards Morgana. Douxie jumps towards Morgana, armed with a sigil designed to freeze her. He successfully reaches her, and the both of them are frozen in the air, except she has no control.

“Hurry! I can’t hold her that long!” Douxie warns. 

“You’ve lost yourself Morgana! Bound to dark magic,” Merlin yells, slamming his staff to the ground, a large sigil of his own covering the floor. 

“I have no choice but to seal you away!” He begins the spell, balls of light rising from the floor. Morgana is able to swing her staff at Douxie, throwing him across the room. However, before she can move, Y/N replaces Douxie, freezing Morgana once more with an even stronger hold. 

“Do it! Finish the spell!” Y/N shouts. 

Morgana screams in frustration. “How dare you, Y/N! I am the reason your life has meaning, I’m the reason for everything you hold dear! You’d be nothing if it weren’t for me!”

“I never was nothing! The only thing I used to be was alone! You’ve given me a family, and for that I’m grateful, but now I have to protect that family! And the only way to do that is to get rid of you!” Y/N turns toward Merlin, “Any day now!”

Merlin chants the final line of the spell, and a beam of light expels from his staff, hitting Morgana at her feet, encasing them in stone. The light slowly works its way up her body.

“I will destroy you all! No matter what it takes, no matter where you go, I will not rest until I’ve ended you and all that you love!” Morgana vows, hitting Y/N with a bolt, knocking her down. Douxie sprints and catches her before she hits the floor. 

Most of Morgana’s body has been encased, leaving only her torso and head free. “I swear on your lives I shall rise again!” 

“And we’ll still be here to stop you once more, buttsnack!” Douxie promises, firmly holding onto Y/N. Once all of her has been frozen, Merlin crosses his arms, finishing the enchantment. Y/N opens up a portal to the Shadow Realm, and Merlin hurls Morgana into it. The last thing heard from Morgana is fearful screaming as Y/N closes the portal.

With the battle finally over, everyone gives a huge sigh of relief, falling to the floor. Archie marches over to Douxie and Y/N, jumping on top of them and licking their faces.

“Arch! That’s disgusting,” Douxie complains with a smile, clearly not meaning it. Y/N hugs Archie, giving him a kiss on the forehead. Douxie beams at the both of them, feeling so content in the moment. 

He puts a hand on her shoulder, “Are you alright, love?” Archie hops off of Y/N, deciding to give them a moment alone.

“I’m okay, more than okay really. She was too far gone, there was nothing more we could do,” Y/N answers. “Now, about your little declaration of love there.”

Douxie nervously giggles, “Yeaahhh, about that. Look desperate times call for desperate measures! Had I known you were just going to waltz in anyway, I would’ve waited for a more romantic evening to confess my undying love for you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“There would’ve been flowers, music, little sweet buns iced with our initials toget-”

Y/N cuts off his rambling by grabbing his tunic with one hand, resting the other on his cheek, and pulling his lips towards hers. Their first kiss is a soft one, with Douxie wrapping his arms around her, pulling her even closer. They let each other go, feeling the sudden urge to laugh at one another for their impeccable timing.

“I love you too, Douxie. More than anything,” Y/N confesses.

Douxie grabs her face and pulls her into another kiss, convinced this is the happiest moment of his life.

Eventually, they remember they’re not alone. They look around to see Merlin passed out on the floor. 

“Merlin!” they both shout, running over to him. Archie apparently had been trying to wake them up, waiting for their moment to be over in order to tell them.

“Why didn’t you tell us he’d passed out?!” Douxie scolds.

Archie waves his paws in defense. “Pardon me, you know I’m all for happy endings. I just didn’t want to be the one to tell you it’s not over yet.” Douxie lets out a groan, slamming his hand to his forehead.

“When do you think he’ll wake up?” Y/N asks.

“Hopefully, soon,” Douxie answers, doubtfully.

--------

Nine centuries later, 

“FUZZBUCKETS!” Douxie screams in the air, being dragged along by a mephit he, Y/N, and Archie were trying to catch. 

“Don’t let go of it!” Y/N shouts, trying to sprint ahead of the creature.

“Ah yes dear, that was the plan all along! To free this poor tortured beast!” he yells sarcastically, before slamming into the ground for the fifth time that night.

“You know it was your sense of humor I fell in love with first!” she quips. She opens up a portal on the floor and jumps into it, opening up another one right in front of the mephit. She draws up a sigil that the mephit bounces off of, knocking him down.

“Ah well, luckily for you I’m quite the jester!” Douxie jokes. 

Archie swoops in and blows fire at the mephit, fatally wounding it. Douxie is then able to cast the creature away. They all let out shouts of victory, Y/N giving each of them a high five. 

“You know, one of these days you two will be the death of me. Maybe don’t start flirting with each other until you’re absolutely certain you’ve caught the shadow mephit,” Archie chides.

Y/N scratches behind Archie’s ear as a way of apology. “I’m so sorry dear husband over there insists on putting his hands on me at every available opportunity. He’s quite the scoundrel,” Y/N teases. 

Douxie scoffs at that remark, pretending to be offended. “Pardon me, dear wife. But if I recall correctly it was you who-” He doesn’t finish his sentence as he’s distracted by the lights suddenly flickering and then bursting. 

“Hisirdoux,” a voice calls out. 

“Is that…?” Y/N questions, looking around.

“I think it is…. Merlin!” Douxie grins in excitement, happy to know his master is finally awake. 

A green sigil lights up from underneath Douxie, making him jump back. Merlin rises up from it, except it’s only a projection of him. 

“Hisirdoux, my faithful apprentice-”

“You darn right I’ve been faithful. Who leaves a guy hanging for almost a millennium? You could’ve sent a raven, or a text! There’s texting you know!” Douxie whines. 

“It’s so good to see you, Merlin,” Y/N says with a smile, giving him a bow. 

Merlin smiles back, “Lovely to see you too, dear Y/N. I see Hisirdoux hasn’t tormented you enough to run to the hills yet.”

Y/N laughs, standing back up, “Actually, he’s done quite the opposite.” She raises her left hand, showing off the ring on her finger. Douxie wraps an arm around her shoulders, eyes staring lovingly at her. Merlin beams at the both of them, glad that they’ve had each other all the years. 

“Congratulations, you two,” Merlin proudly says. 

“Thanks, Master,” Douxie responds gratefully. The last nine hundred have been wonderful with her and Archie at his side.

Merlin clears his throat, “I’ve come here to task you all with a mission. You must bring the Guardians of Arcadia, with haste.” The projection of him fades away, leaving the three of them alone. 

“Errand boys once again, aren’t we?” Archie complains. Douxie lets out a sigh. 

“Don’t think of it as an errand, think of it as another adventure,” Y/N suggests, wrapping her left arm around Douxie and letting Archie climb on top of her shoulders. “It’ll be fun! You’ll see.”

Douxie chuckles, and brings his left hand to her head, pulling it closer to him to press a light kiss against her forehead. “With you, my love, anything’s an adventure.”

--------

Bonus, 

“Wait, so the two of you are wizards?! Not just baristas at the cafe?!” Toby questions. 

“Yup!” Y/N replies. 

“And you’ve been living for nine hundred years?!” 

“Yup!” 

Steve gives Y/N a quick up/down glance, “Well, you certainly don’t look it.”

Douxie glares at him, “Careful, she’s married.”

Steve raises his hands in defense, “I’m just saying! Wait, to you?”

“Yes!” Douxie barks at him. 

“Today’s actually our eight hundred and ninety-sixth anniversary,” Y/N informs them with a smile. 

“And you’re spending it here? Wow Doux, you suck at romance.” Toby criticizes.

Douxie scoffs, “Alright, you go celebrate eight hundred and ninety-five anniversaries and report back to me!”

Y/N lets out a giggle, “Maybe that’s enough questions for now.”

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Among These Pages

Summary: After a painful breakup, you move to a new town and you’re instantly attracted to a small bookshop near your new residence. The new owner has definitely caught your eye.

Warnings: Smut and mild cursing

A/N: So this idea originated from a Discord chat (again) in an Arthur specific server. Needless to say this one was fun to write.

The hot sun beat down amongst the worn cement and faded asphalt of this little town you now called home. Bright and sunny, though a little bit too hot for your taste. You quickened your pace to seek the shade of a tree, careful to keep out of the paths of others.

Having slight relief from the blistering sun, you squinted around for another view of your surroundings. A small, quaint village bustling with its inhabitants. The streets were lined with independent shops, restaurants and cafes. The buildings and walkways were splashed with brightly colored plants and paint, immediately setting a cheerful vibe in the atmosphere.

After spending the first day moving in and unpacking, you decided to take a break and explore your new residence. You’ve only really experienced it through your car windows, and stopped in one of the cafes once or twice. However, you now wanted the full experience. Though with how sweltering it was, you were probably better off driving.

You fanned yourself for a moment and cast your attention down the length of the block. More food, smoothies, coffee, ice cream, except you weren’t all that hungry at the moment.

However, another sign caught your eye. Though too far to see, your curiosity spiked and you walked forward. As you drew in closer shapes began to appear, along with letters. Morgan Books, painted in gold lettering in a distinctly Western styled font. Underneath was a stack of books with one opened on top. A bookshop. Being from where you were, you were used to the large corporate bookstores. You hadn’t come across an independently owned one in years.

Checking this place out was a perfect excuse to get out of the sun for a bit. You increased your pace until you were standing at the store front. The building like the others surrounding had a somewhat rustic appearance, part of the charm that attracted you to living here. The windows were dusty and the inside was fairly dark, but you could make out the silhouettes of shelves. You approached the entrance and pulled open the door, ringing a bell overhead. You stepped across the threshold to be greeted by a cool breeze of air conditioning.

You sighed in relief and looked around. The shop itself was fairly small, or at least appeared that way as it was full of multiple bookcases, all of which were stacked floor to ceiling with books. The floorboards creaked elsewhere, and you turned to see someone appear from around one of the shelves.

A man, tall and broad-framed. He offered a quick smile. “Hey there, welcome!”

“Hello.” You greeted him politely.

He stepped closer, allowing a better view of his face. You couldn’t help but to notice how handsome he looked. “Need help findin’ anything?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Nah, just exploring, really. I saw this place and I wondered what sort of treasures lurked within.” You lightly joked.

He chuckled. “Well, you’ll find plenty here. Got new n’ used, so feel free to look ‘round.”

You nodded in response, and turned your attention toward the endless amount of books. You scanned the shelves, following along with the signs marked on top of which cases held which topics. You found that he had a little bit of everything; from encyclopedias to New Age books, to computer guides (from the early 2000’s) to conspiracy theories. You had to giggle to yourself upon reading some of the synopses for a collection of the more esoteric pieces.

Time soon became lost to you with more exploration. All the while the man who greeted you earlier moved through the shop occasionally. After a while it felt like you’d been here for ages. When you checked your phone, you’d realized nearly a half hour passed since first walking into this place. You blinked in surprise. You hadn’t anticipated spending that much time here.

As you were putting your phone away and moved toward the front of the shop, the man sat at his register and caught your attention.

“So, find any treasures?” he casually asked.

You paused to turn to him. “Guess I did, you have a…uh, an interesting collection.” You responded, tilting your head back toward some of the shelves.

He nodded in agreement, offering you a half-smile. “You’d be surprised what people come in askin’ for, or what people come in to sell.”

“Well if I needed a how-to book on Windows 2000, I’ll know where to stop by.” You said with a giggle.

He shook his head and smiled even more. “See? Those books have been on them shelves for years. Ain’t sure why I still keep ‘em ‘round.”

“Antiquity value perhaps?” you joked.

He gave a small, hearty laugh. “’Spose so. Guess I should get rid of ‘em, they belong in a museum at this point.”

His laughter made you smile. “Anyway, I should be heading back home and unpack some more…”

His expression changed to curiosity. “You jus’ move here?” when you nodded, he asked, “Where from?”

“Couple hours north,” you answered. “Needed a change of scenery, you know?”

He nodded in understanding. “You’ll be glad ya moved here. This lil’ town has its charms, folks here are nice too.”

“I’m glad, believe me,” you sighed. “It’s a nice change of pace. I’m glad to have found this bookstore too, it adds to the charm.”

He grinned at you. A cute, slightly lopsided grin that somehow made your heart flutter. “Glad you think so.”

---

The next two days was spent unpacking the rest of your house, keeping yourself focused on it to have everything organized before the first day of your new job. It was Sunday, and by noon you’d finally unwrapped the last of your décor and placed it accordingly in your living room. You smiled to yourself as your eyes panned across the room, proud of how much you’d accomplished in just three days. Sure, you didn’t have too many possessions, yet it was a relief to tackle the largest of chores.

Though you hadn’t expected to finish this soon. With only half the day gone, you wondered what else to do. You supposed you could explore more, and that little shop on the corner popped up in your mind, along with the image of the handsome owner…

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to stop by again.

After a quick lunch break and heading outside, it was only fifteen minutes of walking before you reached your destination. It wasn’t as hot out today which you were thankful for. You strode up to the door and pulled it open, the bell once again alerting your incoming presence.

As soon as you stepped in, your eyes darted to the shopkeeper who sat behind the register. He peered up at your entrance.

“Hey, welcome back!” he greeted with enthusiasm.

You blinked in surprise. “You remember me?”

“’Course, when ya live in a small town, you tend to remember faces,” He explained. “Y’back to find more treasures?”

You smiled. “In a way, I finished unpacking earlier than expected so I thought I’d come back into town for a bit.”

“So you’re all settled in then?” he asked.

“For the most part. I start my new job tomorrow, so I’d figure I use my free time productively by…looking for more old computer manuals.”

He chuckled at that. “Now that ya mentioned it, I think I better do some inventory o’ the place. Might as well get rid of the useless stuff,” He spoke while standing up. “I won’t get in your way.”

You nodded, sidestepping as he rounded from around the counter to move past you. As he passed by, a short whiff of his cologne wafted through your nostrils. He smelled good, and you briefly turned your head to take a look as he walked away. He was certainly broad, almost too broad to fit in this little shop. Yet he moved between the bookcases with ease.

He turned a corner, obscuring himself from your vision. You turned your attention back to the books, looking for the topics that would particularly spark your interest.

It’d fallen quiet, aside from the creak of floorboards and sliding of books across wood. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him pass back and forth with a few in his hands, carrying them towards the back. You’d sneak another glance or two without him looking, appreciating his physique.

After a little while, you found yourself poring over a book on the religion of Wicca. It was something that piqued your interest in your earlier life, though never had a chance to really learn about it. You’d only just began to skim through it, although the content was interesting enough that you started to read.

A loud crash emanated elsewhere in the shop, causing you to jump in surprise. The shopkeeper hissed out a curse, prompting you to peer around in search of the source.

“You okay?” you called out.

“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh of annoyance. “Jus’ one o’ these shelves fell apart.”

You listened to the sounds of him attempting to clean up the mess, and followed it through the narrow aisles until you found him. He was bent over, attempting to collect the disheveled books spilled at his feet.

“Here, let me help.” You said, automatically starting forward.

“No, you don’t have to –” he began, glancing up at you.

“There’s a lot here.” You stated, gathering a few into your arms.

He didn’t argue further, and together the two of you managed to collect them all. He nodded in thanks and headed toward the back once again, with you on his heels. He led you to an open door to reveal a small back room. From over his shoulder you spotted a chair and desk, and a pile of books placed haphazardly on top of it. He placed his armful on an empty space and gestured for you to do the same. Once you emptied your arms and exited the back room, you turned to him.

“Thank you.”

You nodded to him. “You’re welcome…” you glanced around the shop again, and an idea struck your mind. “Need any more help?”

“Nah, jus’ ‘bout halfway done I think.” He answered, placing his hands on his hips.

“I could help with that though,” you pointed out, though surprised at yourself for even offering. “Kinda curious what else you got that’s ancient and obsolete.”

“Oh there’s plenty…” he responded, rubbing the back of his neck while he peered around as a thoughtful look painted his face. “Tell ya what, if ya find anything interestin’ that need to be off the shelves, I’ll let ya keep it for free.”

Bewilderment crossed your mind. “Wouldn’t you be losing money then?”

“A couple of ‘em won’t hurt business,” he said. “Better n’ throwin’ ‘em out or puttin’ em in storage, ya know?”

You didn’t want to decline his offer since he had a good point, yet you still felt bad regardless. “Alright, fair enough.”

And so you set to help him. All the while you two held a casual conversation. You learned his name was Arthur, and that he owned this place for a few years. Other than running this store he lived on a small ranch on the edge of town. You shared a little bit about yourself, including your career and a couple of shared interests you had with him.

Surprisingly enough, you’d pulled out many more old texts than you anticipated. Some were so worn and dog-eared that there was no resale value, and Arthur told you to just throw them away. Throwing away books? You instead convinced him to give them away, and he found an empty box and labeled it “Free Books”. You skimmed through them briefly to see if they caught your eye, yet none did and they ended up in the box.

After a little over an hour passed before the both of you picked the place clean. You dusted your hands off after placing the last few in the box. Arthur picked it up and carried it outside, placing it on the sidewalk. We walked back in and said, “Hope that gives ‘em some good use.”

“Hey, people will take anything free,” you pointed out. “Maybe even pull in more revenue for you.”

“Well here’s hopin’,” he sighed, briefly glancing toward the floor before meeting your gaze with a small smile. “Thanks for the help again, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome Arthur, I actually had fun helping you.” You answered with a grin.

He chuckled softly. “Fun, eh?”

You nodded. “Sure, you’re a nice guy and fun to talk to.” You answered.

You weren’t sure, but his face reddened a touch as he ducked his head. He laughed again, shy and…cute. “Thank you, though I ain’t that much of an interestin’ person.”

“Nah, I beg to differ,” you argued lightly. “Either way, I think I’ll be coming back. I like it here, and if you’d need any more help…”

“You’ve been more than helpful Y/N,” he answered, waving his hand as if trying to flit away your words. He then paused, realization crossing his face. “Actually…no, never mind.”

“What is it?” you pressed.

“Well,” he released a heavy sigh. “I’ll be honest, business ain’t as good as I’d hoped. I’ve been tryin’ to think of new advertisin’ strategies, pull in more customers. Problem is I ain’t too good at it.”

“So…you’re asking me to help you advertise? Or create one for you?” you questioned.

“I know it ain’t fair to ask,” Arthur answered quickly, his face shadowed with a look of guilt. “We hardly know each other and you jus’ moved here –”

“I’ll do it.” You softly interrupted.

He blinked, staring at you in surprise. “Whuh?”

“I said I’ll do it,” you repeated, smiling at him. “Luckily for you, I took a few advertising arts classes in college.”

The surprise remained on his face. “Uh –” he huffed, and cleared his throat. “I don’t want ya to feel pressured or nothin’ –”

“I’m not, Arthur,” you assured him. “You were gonna ask for a reason right? I don’t mind. Besides, I haven’t used my art skills in years. Might as well put them to use again.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” You affirmed. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll give me something fun to do after work.”

Arthur was silent for a moment. He finally nodded and spoke, “Alright, as long as I ain’t troublin’ you with it.”

“No trouble at all,” you replied with another smile. “I’ll come up with something good, I promise.”

His smile matched yours. “Then I look forward to it.”

---

The next few weeks kept you busy. After settling in at your new job and coming home to sit at your computer to design flyers didn’t leave you much time for other activities. Still you stopped by the bookshop to plan with Arthur and discuss strategies, or suggested many ideas that he seemed to like. You laid out a few thumbnails of different designs for him to pick and choose, narrowing it down to two that he really liked.

You stopped by every day to update the progress, even when you didn’t have to. Admittedly you were enjoying his company, and you had a feeling he liked yours as well. After moving to a town where you knew no one and were far from your family and old friends, you were just fine with considering Arthur as one. As time passed on he’d become friendlier and more open to you, offering you a drink or snack even when you’d come by for a few minutes.

Sometimes you’d stay longer just as an excuse to be close to someone other than your new coworkers, and to admire how nice he looked. He always dressed in either button-up shirts or a nice T-shirt and Wrangler jeans like a cowboy, the fabric accentuating his broad frame in all the right ways. His sandy hair was trimmed neatly, and he kept his face somewhat clean shaven, although something about having stubble lined across his sharp jaw set a spark within you.

A relationship was the furthest thing on your list at the moment, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t admire how attractive he was.

Soon after you produced a finished product, and quite proud of the result after not having designed anything since your college days. It was a weekend which meant you were free, and upon printing out a nice colored version, you headed to the bookshop almost instantly.

Arthur loved it, as you had hoped. He paid for multiple copies to be printed and distributed around the town, and you spent the afternoon stapling them to telephone poles and handing them out in some of the shops. You thankfully had gotten a positive response from most of those you’ve spoken with, which gave you hope. You wondered how Arthur was doing on his end.

After a few hours you’d met back up at the shop, tired and arms empty, but Arthur looked as pleased as you did. You settled down in the back room while he handed you a water bottle from his mini fridge. You took it gratefully and gulped a swig, sighing in relief.

“I think we did good.” you said as he settled across from you.

He nodded in response, followed by taking a drink from his own bottle. “I think so too, lotsa people seem interested.”

“I would figure more people would come in here often.” You said thoughtfully.

“You’d think, but this place is more of a tourist trap than anything,” Arthur responded. “Can’t complain, but I understand. Ya get used to one place, it gets borin’ after a while.”

“Well, hopefully this will be the beginning of a new era for this place.” You enthusiastically gestured to the surroundings with a flourish.

Arthur smiled at you, chuckling as he took another drink of water. He didn’t speak, however your eyes met his. You’d never noticed before how absolutely gorgeous his eyes were. From a distance they appeared blue, yet you could detect hints of bright green surrounding his pupils. You wanted to view them even closer. Somehow you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

The entrance bell however sounded, pulling your attention and his toward the front of the store. The telltale signs of potential customers. Arthur glanced out in surprise, and immediately stood up to greet the newcomers. You stayed in the back room while he dealt with the customers, listening to their voices with a smile on your face. Who would have thought it would work that quickly?

You left shortly after, catching Arthur’s eye briefly as you walked by him helping out a young couple that wandered in. A gaze that lingered a second longer than you intended, however you felt it was best to leave him to deal with his shop at the moment.

—-

Two weeks passed and you hadn’t stopped by Arthur’s shop, mainly because each time you passed by, the building seemed to be teeming with customers. You felt more than happy, and proud of yourself that you helped a business owner earn more revenue after a dull streak.

You did find yourself missing his company. Each day he hung in your mind like a cloud. You certainly liked him enough to call him a friend, yet those gorgeous eyes of his would meet you in your dreams.

That following Saturday evening, you received a text from him.

Hey, would you mind stopping by?

He was vague yet direct. Perhaps he was going to ask you another favor? Either way you were excited to see him again, and to inquire how everything was going. You headed over just minutes after responding to his text, hoping your eagerness didn’t overflow into your phone.

The first thing you noticed was the closed sign hanging in the window, which explained the lack of people this time. It was just past 7 pm, and you walked up the door and knocked. Movement shadowed behind the glass and Arthur’s silhouette appeared just a moment later, meeting your gaze between the glass and smiling wide. He opened the door.

“Hey there, come on in.” He stepped back and gestured.

You walked in and turned to face him. “So, I’ve noticed business has gotten better recently.”

“All thanks to you,” he responded, the grin on his face only growing wider. He then lifted his hand to reveal he was holding a bottle of whiskey. “I wanna thank ya.”

You blinked at the alcohol, surprised by this but you didn’t have any objections. You smiled and nodded in approval. “You don’t have to thank me Arthur, but I’m not about to turn down a good drink.”

He chuckled heartily. “Sure I do, the booze is jus’ a bonus. C’mon.” He waved toward the back room and strode for it, and you were right behind him. Once he stepped inside he grabbed a couple of plastic cups, and filled the both of them with a few cubes of ice. He then poured in the whiskey before topping them off with some soda. He handed a cup to you, and then held up his own.

“To you, for your design and advertisin’ skills.” He said, although rather awkwardly. You figured he wasn’t good at that sort of thing, but you didn’t mind. Bringing your cup to tap against his, you smiled again and took the first sip simultaneously with him. The sweet soda tinged with the smokey bitterness of the alcohol was a pleasant mixture against your tastebuds.

It was quiet for a moment, and Arthur took another sip before drawing in a deep breath. He focused on you. “Drink’s good?” He asked.

You nodded, taking another sip of your own. “Very. Haven’t had a chance to have a good drink since I moved here. Had to resort to a few gas station beers.”

He snorted softly, a small smile of amusement appearing on his face. “Gotta introduce you to the good bar in town sometime.”

This piqued your interest. “Oh? There’s a bar here?”

“‘Course, every small town has a bar,” he pointed out. “It ain’t on any of these main roads though, it’s closer to the outskirts. I imagine ya probably didn’t explore that much.”

“Can’t say I have,” you said thoughtfully. “But I’ll take up the offer of you showing me.”

“Jus’ name a time, ya won’t be disappointed.” He confidently replied.

You finished your first drink after a little while and Arthur poured you a second to which you were not opposed to. The effects were taking hold of you before you knew it. Your lips were looser with each sip you took, and you found Arthur was the same way. The two of you spoke about random topics, anything ranging between favorite colors to what you cooked yesterday. Things that were otherwise too boring to discuss, yet somehow with Arthur they seemed more interesting.

A little while later, the conversation became deeper. Arthur spoke some about his earlier life and what kind of environment he was raised in, and how his teenage years were spent bitterly. You shared the reason why you moved: you were previously living with your significant other, only to find your shared bed occupied by two bodies when you arrived home early one day when you weren’t feeling well. The reveal absolutely crushed you, which led into an emotional spiral and you looking for a new place to live the next day.

It’d been a little over a month since then. Your mind was still heavy on the breakup until you stopped by here the first time. Arthur and his charming little shop seemed to absorb any lingering sadness you had. Seemed like both yesterday and ages ago.

Regardless of the story, the pair of you were chortling in good spirits. You ranted about all the negatives about your old partner, releasing the leftover bitterness you’ve suppressed and turned it into humor. It only heightened your mood more, and with each drink it only increased.

After a few more minutes it quieted down again, though the smiles remained on your faces. You since became immune to the sting of whiskey, immensely enjoying the flavors and the inebriation that accompanied it.

Arthur reached over and poured himself another helping. His sigh caught your attention. He stared down into his cup, fixated with a thoughtful expression.

“I gotta say, I’m glad you wandered in here that day.” He murmured, peering at you with a sidelong look.

“Yeah?” you chirped.

He nodded slowly, taking a swig of his drink before focusing onto you with a serious gaze. “I’ll be honest, I was thinkin’ ‘bout closin’ up.”

You were taken aback by this statement. “Why?”

“You saw for yourself. Hardly any business. Shelves lined with books decades old,” he snorted without humor. “Truth is openin’ this place ain’t even my idea.”

“Then whose was it?” you pressed tilting your head in curiosity.

“My fiancée’s,” he smiled bitterly, gently swirling his drink. “Eh, ex-fiancée. Had the grand idea to run a business together. Picked out this place herself. N’ like a fool I fell for it.”

Ex-fiancée. Your heart raced upon learning this new information, and you wondered what happened between them. Would it be too prying to ask? “So…what changed?”

Arthur shrugged. “She found someone else more interestin’. Said we had too many differences in our lives to really enjoy each other…” he trailed off to take another sip, his eyes shifting to gaze in the distance.

Your heart broke for him. Rather than wallowing in those feelings, you instead asked another question. “But why hold on to this place if it was her idea?”

His gaze pulled back to you. “Guess for a while I was hangin’ on to the dream that she’d come back n’ pick up where we left off. Obviously that didn’t happen. Stupid, huh?”

You frowned at this. Hell, you understood that pipe dream all too well. There was a brief time where you wished your ex would come after you like in the movies in some dramatic fashion, pouring out apologies and begging you to come back. Wishful thinking.

You noted his hand was resting against the table. In a quick movement you reached over and placed your hand comfortingly on his forearm, and offering him a sympathetic smile. “It’s not stupid at all. You loved her and you held on to the one thing that you knew she loved too.”

Arthur’s eyes dropped to your hand. “For too long,” he sighed. “After a while I knew there was no chance. Still I continued, kept this place open for my own sake. Came here every mornin’ with a rock in my stomach, least until recently.” He explained, his voice softening towards the end. He peered over to you again.

Your heart raced once again. The way he was looking at you… it was obvious as to why he mentioned that last bit. Hell, you knew for a while. He wasn’t subtle about trying to steal glances your way these past few weeks. As attractive as he was, you were denying yourself of your own feelings out of protection. It felt too soon after your last relationship, although it seemed Arthur had been single for a while. You were afraid you’d change your mind. “And why is that?” you asked, wanting to play dumb to hide your initial hesitation.

His arm moved – at first you thought he was pulling away, until his hand met yours. Palm to palm, skin rough but warm. His fingers entwined with yours and you automatically did the same. “I think you know,” he murmured.

His thumb smoothed against the back of your hand. Your eyes bore into his. Such a gorgeous light blue, glistening in the lamplight of this tiny room. Despite the table in between the two of you, it was hardly an obstacle to view him in better focus. Upon closer inspection, you could detect pools of green surrounding his pupils, reminding you of tropical beaches.

His lips were parted, wafting his gentle breath against your face. Scented with alcohol and the sweetness of soda, he seemed to be growing closer.

You closed the space immediately, the booze flowing in your system offering a boost of confidence. His mouth was surprisingly soft against yours, and within seconds he returned the favor. Your free hands joined, mirroring their counterparts with ease. He pulled you closer with no effort.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly to stare at you with a soft expression. He released your hand to cup your cheek gently, and you leaned into his touch with a smile.

“You don’t have to hold on to those thoughts anymore.” you sighed to him.

His smile mirrored yours. “Neither do you.”

---

It was nothing but pure bliss following that night. You’d fallen into a routine to spend some time with him every day, even when you had work. Arthur was such a sweet lover and was not hesitant to hold you whenever he had a chance. His arm around your waist, or pulling you into his lap. You helped around the bookshop more, even when he told you that you didn’t have to. Yet you insisted, and redecorated some of it to give a new energy while keeping its rustic look. It certainly attracted even more customers.

He took you to the bar as promised, and it quickly became a regular spot for casual dates. It was just as charming as he explained, accompanied with lovely patrons and entertainment. You were soon completely comfortable with this small town, completely integrated into its community thanks to Arthur. People often recognized your face from the bookshop, and the praise following was something he was elated to hear about.

A couple of months have passed, and you swore Arthur’s smile grew bigger each and every day. He looked forward to running the business again, and left those bitter thoughts of his ex behind with the help of you.

One particularly slow weekend day, you were spending time in the shop as usual. It was late afternoon and the last customer left an hour ago, thus creating a quiet and relaxing atmosphere. Closing time would be in less than an hour, and you just assumed no one else would be wandering in.

While Arthur manned the register, albeit with boredom, you began to observe some of the newer inventory. The shelves were thankfully lined with more recent texts to fill in the gaps of what you’d sorted through previously. Once again you found yourself coming across the book of Wicca again, the same one you were skimming through just months earlier. You were surprised no one purchased it with the heavy amount of traffic that passed through.

The book served as a better distraction than you realized. You pored over it, so focused on the information that you didn’t notice the presence that loomed over you until gentle hands found your waist.

“You can keep that if ya want.”

You blinked in surprise, turning your head to look at him. “No, I’d feel weird about it.”

“Why?” he asked.

“It’s still your store, I just can’t take it.” You pointed out.

He shook his head and quietly laughed. “Ah, it’s alright sweetheart. I know you were interested in that. ‘Sides, it’s been sittin’ here for months, n’ I can always order more if people want ‘em. Pretty sure it’s here for ya.”

“I still feel like I should pay…or something.” You murmured, placing the book back on the shelf.

“Now I don’t wanna hear none o’ that,” Arthur lightly chided you, despite wrapping his arms around your waist. “I never did properly thank you for all the help you’ve given me.”

You turned around in his grip, giving him a playful smirk. “As if all this affection wasn’t repayment enough?”

“’Course not,” he snickered, and leaned in to place a chaste kiss on your lips. “Think I got quite a while ‘fore I’m even,” he reached over and plucked the book from its spot, and pressed it into your hand. “Until then, take this.”

Your fingers instinctively wrapped around the spine, and you sighed again. He was adamant about you keeping this book, and there was no use arguing with him. No point in denying a free gift anyway. “Alright, I’ll keep it.”

He smiled in response. “Don’t ever think y’gotta pay for somethin’ in here. If ya like it, then help yourself.”

“You tell that to all the girls?” you asked.

“Only to the ones I like.” He replied with a wink.

You giggled, stepping back to lightly slap his chest with the book. “Alright you, I’m gonna head home. See you tomorrow?”

He nodded, drawing you back in for a hug and another kiss. “See ya tomorrow, darlin’.”

Breaking from the embrace, you headed toward the exit. Somehow you hadn’t noticed how much darker it got outside until you saw the iron-gray storm clouds through the door. You opened it just as a loud thunder clap rumbled through the air, vibrating the floor beneath you. A split second later, rain began to fall.

Well shoot, you walked here today.

Arthur’s low hum sounded behind you. He stepped up beside you to observe the weather. “Guess you ain’t goin’ anywhere for a while.”

“Guess not.” You agreed. You weren’t opposed to staying longer, however you were hungry and some leftover pizza at home was calling your name. Hopefully this storm would be quick.

Arthur seemed to have read your mind. “Got some snacks in the back, c’mon.” He said, reaching your free hand and leading you through to the back room.

The two of you settled at the table with a shared small helping of cut fruit. While it wasn’t much, it was enough to curb your appetite for the time being. It was quiet aside from the raging storm, which settled to an even calmer atmosphere. You popped a grape into your mouth, peering over at Arthur as he munched on an apple slice.

His eyes met yours. “Somethin’ wrong with my face?” he asked jokingly.

You snickered, scooting closer. “Yeah, a whole lot of handsome.”

He snorted and shook his head with a dejected smile. You learned early on that his self-esteem was low, even though he hid it fairly well. Any comments toward his physical appearance was usually deflected.

“It’s true, you know.” You insisted. “You ever see how some girls stare at you when they’re here?”

“Nah, only ever got eyes for you, darlin’.” He answered.

“It’s pretty obvious,” you continued. “They’re not so subtle with their googly eyes, even when they try to be.”

Arthur laughed again, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Guess I’m blind to it.”

“You must be, if you can’t tell how sexy you are…” you stood up briefly to slide into his lap. Your hands cradled his face. “Probably the most attractive man in this town.”

His cheeks flushed with a light shade of pink, ducking his head slightly to avert your gaze. “You’re jus’ bein’ sweet.”

“I’m being truthful,” You corrected, slipping your hand beneath his chin to tilt his face back up. Once he was looking at you again, your hands moved to his shoulders, down his arms and to finally take his hands. “I could stare at you all day, you know.”

He chuckled in response, entwining his fingers with yours. “I could say the same ‘bout you.”

“Ah, but this is about you…” you spoke softly, pulling his hands up to your mouth, placing soft kisses on his knuckles. “From your gorgeous eyes to your sexy jawline to your absolutely stunning body. And the way you dress? It’s like you do it on purpose just to make me feel all hot and bothered.”

“I don –”

You gently shushed him by planting your lips on his. Tasting faintly of fruit, your tongue swiped out to steal the flavor from his lips. You pulled back to see the flustered expression on his face, his mouth betraying a slight smile tugging at the corners.

He released your hands to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer on his lap. “Guess I can’t complain if you like it all.” He murmured.

“And then some.” You added, wrapping your own arms around his neck. He drew you in for a second kiss, softer and sweeter than the previous. He held you close to him, his body warm and solid against you. Seconds ticked by as it gradually grew deeper and more fervent. His tongue slowly invaded your mouth which you happily accepted. His large hands smoothed up and down your back, both soothing and igniting your body. A soft moan slipped from your mouth, unintentional yet you didn’t regret it.

This caught his attention. He paused and parted the kiss, confusion plain in his expression. His eyes however betrayed his thoughts, aquatic pools shining brightly in the lamplight. He wanted more and was held back by his hesitation. It seems like you would have to take the lead.

You offered a soft nod to him, a silent acquisition of permission for his unmentioned desire. Removing your hands from around his neck, you reached down and peeled your shirt off, tossing it to the side. Arthur’s eyes widened, staring without shame at your chest, only reflecting the hunger in its prominence. He moved then to attach his mouth to the crook of your neck, kissing your skin lovingly. Your head tilted to allow him more access, quietly encouraging him to explore more of your body.

He did just that. His calloused palms roamed the expanse of your back. His fingers trailed with feather-light precision up your spine. You shuddered in his grip, arching your back and pressing against him even more. He rumbled softly in appreciation while his other hand found the zipper of your jeans. You anticipated feeling him venture further, only for him to grip your ass. He stood up, catching you off-guard and you expelled a yelp. His journey with you was short as he brought you back down, resting your back on the table before him. You locked eyes with him as he smiled down at you, reaching up to caress your cheek. He dragged his fingers down your midline to the hem of your pants, gripping them to tug them straight off.

You were now down to your underclothing while he was still fully dressed. He was certainly moving fast. “You’re gorgeous too…” he muttered, his gaze scanning you up and down with great interest. He rested his hands on your hips, standing in between your legs. He leaned down to kiss your collarbone, moving his lips in a steady line following his trail from earlier. Looping his fingers through your underwear, he pulled them down just as his face reached just below your navel.

He tossed your panties with your other discarded clothing. As exposed as you were, you didn’t feel embarrassed. Your yearning for him was driving you wild. He kissed your mound before taking his spot in the center, and a split second later the wet presence of his tongue appeared along your slit, searching for his target until he honed in on it.

Good lord, who knew he was so good at oral?

You covered your mouth while he worked his magic against you, moaning quite loudly through your fingers. He held your trembling legs tightly against his shoulders, occasionally peering up at you for validation. Your other hand carded through his soft hair, allowing your touch to encourage him further.

He toyed with your entrance, exploring your inner walls. It wasn’t long until he hit that spot, a toe-curling and edge-gripping sensation that had you squealing his name. You were thankful this place was empty for once. He rubbed your inner thigh, offering his own encouragement. Your climax was arriving almost too quickly for you to comprehend. “A-Arthur,” you gasped. “God –“

You could barely utter another word as your pleasure washed over you like a powerful tidal wave, snapping your legs tightly to him while he lapped at you, drawing it out until you were writhing and whimpering from overstimulation. He broke free from your grasp with ease, standing back up to stare down at you.

As your breath evened out, you sat up slowly. “Where did that come from?” you asked.

He chuckled, offering you that crooked smile you loved so much. “I do have some tricks up m’ sleeves.”

You giggled with him, reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck. He leaned into your embrace, joining his lips to yours for a short kiss. You brought yourself to your feet and pressed closer to him, highly aware of what rested against your thigh. Sliding your arms off, you knelt down. “I got tricks of my own too.”

Before he could speak, you palmed him through his jeans. He took a deep breath, easing out a quiet moan to you. You nimbly unzipped his confinements, reaching in to fish out his already hardened manhood. He was larger than you anticipated, but not enough to intimidate you. You wrapped your hand around, finding him thick in circumference. To describe him as well-endowed would only serve him some justice. Your fingers couldn’t touch.

You peered up at him. He was staring at you with curiosity, the rosy tint in his cheeks only increasing. There was still a hesitant energy to him, enough to not push you further.. You offered him a slow rub, memorizing every inch in your hand from root to tip. He released a shuddering breath, his eyelids fluttering slightly.

A soft smile crossed your lips, and you brought yourself forward to kiss his hot skin. You parted your lips to slowly engulf him, keeping your eyes locked to his. Your tongue slid languidly along his silky flesh, drawing along the thick vein that lay on the underside. Soon you had a set rhythm, bobbing your head in an undulating movement. He moaned deeply, breaking his gaze to tilt his head back. His fingers tangled within your hair, a gentle hold that prompted you to take more of him.

The sounds he made were glorious. Guttural groaning with your name, pet names, wrapped with his pleasure. His palm pressed against the back of your head. As gentle as he was, you sensed an urgency behind it. And so you dove further, swallowing him whole with some effort.

“Oh –” he huffed, his hips shuddering with a small buck. “Shit, darlin’. S-sorry.”

You uttered a soft hum and rubbed his thigh soothingly in response. Pulling your mouth back, you deep throated him again. He swore out loud a second time and gripped a nearby chair. You repeated a third time, raising your hand to fondle his balls through his jeans. His breathing became erratic the longer you pleased him, taking him whole with long swallows and a wiggle of your tongue. He gripped your hair hard, though he broke any direct contact with your head, too lost in his ecstasy to aid your movement.

Though hardly any time passed when he spoke your name. “Sweetheart, ain’t g-gonna last.” He gasped out.

You stopped immediately, pulling your mouth off him with a pop of your lips on the tip, swiping off a small pearl of precum that formed. You sat back quietly on your knees as his breathing regulated, and he was able to straighten up and focus on you again. “God damn, your mouth…ain’t no other like it.” He sighed.

You smiled smugly and stood up, closing the space between you with a swagger. Your arms slung around his neck again while you gave him a sultry look. “Didn’t want to be done yet.”

Arthur caught on immediately, pulling you in closer with an iron grip. He ground against you, his rough jeans on your soft skin felt wonderful. His erection rested between your thighs, just inches of where you wanted it to be. “Didn’t think so.” He growled, setting a shudder through you.

With one swoop he propped you back onto the table. His lips hungrily latched to yours while his hands explored every inch of your bare body. His fingers found your center with easy, relaxed strokes. Your moans silenced in his open mouth. You could only hold on while he pleasured you with his hands, though your patience for all of him was wearing thin. His shirt balled up in your hands, fingernails digging deep into the fabric and against his skin.

You pulled back to gasp out. “Arthur, please!” you panted. “I need to feel you.”

He paused his ministrations, bringing his gaze to you. A sweet smile touched his lips and he moved to grip your hips, shuffling slightly to align himself to you. His hips rocked forward, allowing himself to poke between your folds. He invaded you slowly, inch by inch and spreading your inner walls. You hid a wince, underestimating his thickness. He watched your face intently as if to note any discomfort. Soon he was completely joined with you.

He caressed your cheek, asking a silent question of your comfort. You nodded to him and kissed his palm, then trapped his thumb between your lips to suckle on it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the faint surprise on his face, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

His hand left your face to take place once again on your hip. He brought himself back and forward in one smooth motion. The discomfort dissolved almost instantly as your body accepted him, soon replaced with waves of pleasure. You moaned loudly, gratefully, hanging on him while he rocked you to the very core.

He murmured a breathless swear, gripping you tightly while he continuously thrust into you. You were enveloped by your own ecstasy, whispering his name into the air. Lost in your pleasure, you almost didn’t feel him lift you from the table. He held you without effort, driving himself even deeper. His grunts and groans vibrated deep in his belly, vibrating against you.

“Sweetheart, ya feel so nice.” He crooned.

You couldn’t form a coherent response. You could only muster up a long moan the more he fucked you, the further he reached and the harder he rocked. He paused briefly to move from the little room out into the main area. You felt him press you against a bookshelf. The books housed in it shuddered and some fell.

“A-Arthur?” you panted in question.

“Scientology books, no one reads ‘em anyway.” He quickly answered.

You couldn’t help but to laugh, a hearty giggle that switched to a squeal once he pounded into you again. The bookcase creaked behind you, tapping against the wall. The small aware part of your brain wanted to be careful, that is until Arthur shifted to snake his hand between you, his fingers once again toying with your clit.

You stifled another squeal, keeping yourself from becoming any louder than you already were in case any passerby somehow heard you, despite the storm still raging outside. Arthur seemed to have other plans, ramming himself so hard that you could only shout his name. His mouth latched to your neck again, not hesitant to mark and abuse your flesh. He growled with a nearly animalistic tone, echoing deeply throughout the shop.

Your second was on a quick ascent, peaking and surging through your center and radiating through your muscles. You cried out his name, your walls clenching around him. He grunted, unleashing a shuddering breath.

“Jesus, gonna finish soon.” He huffed to you, and caught your lips for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He held you again with both hands. His pace hastened and his hips became erratic, unshamefully moaning against your tongue.

Every one of your senses was overwhelmed in the most wonderful ways. Your taste and smell were overwhelmed with his essence, your nerves tingling as you came down from your high. Nails dug into his flesh, spurring him to finish even sooner.

The clear ringing of a bell pierced your otherwise distracted attention. The bell indicating the store’s door opening, followed by faint footsteps. It brought you back to reality quickly. Ripping your mouth from his, you tried to gasp out his name, only to have him nearly slap his hand over your mouth.

“Shh, nearly there sweetheart. Jus’ be quiet.” He grunted quietly.

Part of you was nervous about the idea of being caught by someone, yet another side seemed to enjoy the thrill. You barely managed a nod while he somehow quietly fucked you, keeping you pressed against the bookshelf and undulating rolling his hips. You locked eyes with him, hyperaware of the creak of the floorboards that sounded as if they were growing closer. Your heart raced despite the endless amount of pleasure racking through your body.

It almost seemed as if he wouldn’t finish in time, until he pulled out of you and stifled a low groan. Hot trails of his spend painted your bare stomach. His entire body shuddered and he eased your legs to the floor, planting a quick kiss on your forehead before ushering you to the back room.

Your legs felt like jello, but you managed to scurry back into the room, ducking from view of the shop while Arthur stuffed himself back into his pants and hastily adjusted his appearance before disappearing from your line of sight. You heard him greet the newcomers, his voice cheerful and not a hint of what just happened a moment before.

You swiftly and silently closed the door, cleaned yourself up, and redressed. A few quiet minutes passed by before Arthur opened the door back up. He smiled at you and let out a sigh of relief. “They didn’t catch us,” he announced.

“I thought it was closing time,” you said.

“Close, had ten til,” he rolled his eyes. “Usually how it goes…”

You sighed heavily. “Of course…” You stepped up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Despite the fatigue that took hold of your body, you felt energized from the whole ordeal. “You sent them on their way?”

Arthur took a hold of your waist, pulling you flush against his torso. “Once they found what they were lookin’ for, though they did hear us a lil’…I had to tell ‘em I was rearrangin’ some o’ the shelves.”

You snickered. “Gotta say, it was a little bit of a thrill feeling like we were gonna get caught. Like we’re teenagers sneaking around or something.”

Arthur snorted and grinned at you with a sly smirk. “Yeah?”

“Sure, but let’s wait until after closing time. Don’t wanna scare off the customers.” you amended.

He nodded, his face twitching thoughtfully. “Next time, I think my house is more suitable,” he laughed. “More comfortable than a bookcase.”

“Oh I’d hope,” you replied, arching your back and feigning a look of pain. “Pretty sure that threw out my back.”

Arthur’s eyebrows raised in surprise, though quickly realized you were joking and shook his head. That same adorable crooked smile returned to his face. “How ‘bout I massage ya to make it up?”

“How about we do that at my house?” you proposed with a cheeky wink.

[irishmacguirefucker]

Meeting Tilly Jackson

A.N: (So originally this was going to be for my au but I realized that if I wanna write Tilly in my AU i need to properly understand her background. We don't have a lot of specific details in the game, so i wrote this. Essentially its how Dutch found Tilly and took her in. She’s 14 in this. I will probably have a part 2 soon. Its a little dialogue heavy)

(TW: Sexual Assault of a minor is mentioned but nothing happens, blood)

Wordcount:  3110

-

Tilly Jackson has a family. They may be a little odd, different than what everyone else might consider a family, but a family nonetheless. Dutch and Hosea her father figures, Susan Grimshaw a motherly presence. Sisters in Karen, Mary-Beth and the other women of the camp, brothers in Arthur and John and most of the other men. The titles don't matter so much as the feeling of safety and comfort and appreciation among them. She missed her late mother of course, but she hoped on some level her mother would be happy with how things turned out for the girl in the end. Being kidnapped at the age of 12 was nothing short of traumatizing, and for a long while, things only got worse. The Foreman gang was the opposite of a family. They were nothing to her but the people who stole her away from her mother claimed to own her. The ones who tried to take advantage of her. The night that Malcolm Foreman tried to make advances on her and she killed him was the night she would consider herself grown. 

She's not sure exactly how long she was alone, it must have been under a year. She went to find her mother only to hear of her death, and with nowhere else to go she just kept running. The further she made it the less likely that Anthony Foreman would find her and pay her back for what she did to his cousin. She knows that it was early spring when she left. The snow had barely been off the ground, she supposed that no longer being wrapped in a ratty cloak and scarf was the reason that gang member thought to make his move. 

Dutch found her just when it was beginning to get cold again. 

Despite considering herself grown, her body disagreed. The shoes she ran away in were already ill-fitted, and by that autumn they were practically falling apart. Her toes stuck out the front. She had done her best to steal clothing off people’s clotheslines, but they rarely fit.

Dutch caught her doing just that. He had been watching the property of some well off folks, planning on casing it with Arthur later that week. He watched as a girl no older than 14, snuck out from the tree line in a torn-up blouse and a too-long skirt.

She was clearly not experienced in stealing as she tripped over her skirts up the property, but she made it to the side of the house mostly successfully. She quickly tore down a long dress and an undershirt and quickly started back to the tree line. She stared wistfully at the property's large orchard and nearly turned her course towards it before hearing the owner of the house open his front door and stealing away into the forest. Even from a distance, Dutch knew what that hesitation meant. She was hungry.

Dutch was hardly one to let a promising little thief like her starve in the forest, so with a passing glance at the house he stood from his hiding spot up the hill and mounted the Count.

Tracking was never one of Dutch’s strongest abilities but she made it rather easy, with footprints in the mud, a scrap of fabric where her clothing caught a branch, etc. Eventually, he reached a spot where she seemed to trip and fall, and then there were a few drops of blood here and there as he followed. He knew he was getting closer, the blood wasn’t dry. He dismounted his horse and began leading him forward when suddenly she jumped out from behind a tree wielding a large rusted hunting knife. 

“Don’t come any closer! You can take your clothes back, here.” She kicked over the items he had just watched her steal. “Don’t tell the law, and I’ll disappear. I don’t have anything more to offer you.”

Dutch grinned, she was strong-willed. But he also observed that her cheeks were sunken in, and her skin was dull. She was visibly malnourished, and there was blood dripping from one of her small hands. He hoped it was a branch she cut herself on and not that dirty knife of hers.

He put his hands up in a friendly gesture.

“I’m not the man you robbed earlier, don’t you worry. I watched you steal that dress, you’re quite the little thief.” 

She was doing a damn good job of hiding her fear, but Dutch was experienced in seeing past such facades. She didn’t seem scared of the weapon she was holding, as the young and inexperienced often were when they wielded such an item. She just seemed scared of him. 

“Why did you follow me, it ain’t your things I stole. I have nothing to give you, so you best just leave me be.” She didn’t stutter, her high pitched voice remained unwavering and strong. Dutch tried his best to look unthreatening, something he didn’t find himself having to do often. 

“Well, I myself was planning on robbing that house myself later with a few of my friends, perhaps I just wanted to see if you had any advice for me as a seasoned visitor of that property.”

She didn’t believe him and didn’t lower her knife, but she didn’t run either. Good. “Now if I reach for something in my saddle bag here are you gonna come at me with that big old knife?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

Dutch smiled. “Well if you and I are gonna talk business I thought that maybe I could pay you for your time, little lady.”

She finally lowered the knife a little, seeming less afraid but very suspicious. “You wanna pay me for information on that house?”

“I do. Information is worth a lot to us outlaws, you should know that well Darlin’” He slowly turned to the horse. Even if she did attempt to stab him, she wouldn’t get to him before he could turn around, so he wasn’t worried. As he was digging through the saddlebag she spoke up behind him.

“Don’t call me Darlin.” 

He smiled at her bravado but kept looking through the bag. “Well, you’ve yet to give me something else to call you Miss. Ah! Here it is!” He turned back to her holding a small stack of cash and a wrapped parcel. 

“Yeah, well neither have you!” There’s that reminder that he’s talking to a child. They’re always so petulant. John had been just the same, though a little more rabid. “Well, I’m Dutch, Dutch Van der Linde.”

He studied her face for any sign of recognition, but there was none. Good, less reason for her to be afraid of him. She didn’t give her name just yet. 

“Are you with the Foreman brothers?” She asked boldly. “I won’t let you take me back, I’ll kill you before you get me back there.” That would explain her fear, she wasn’t just a thief. She was a runaway from another gang.

“Now I’ll tell you right now Miss, I’m not with Anthony Forman or his little gang. The only gang I’m with is the Van der Linde gang, and I promise me and mine won’t bring you any harm.”

“You...You lead a gang?” She was shaking, it was starting to get colder as the sun was setting. 

“I am, but we aren’t like those bastards you knew. We’re just good people, looking to live free.”

Then he did something bold, a gesture to help her feel safer in the presence of a gang leader. Hopefully, she would be a little more at ease. “Do you mind if I sit down Miss-” 

“Jackson. Tilly Jackson.”

He smiled. “Miss Jackson. Do you mind if I sit while we talk? Tracking you was quite a little adventure.” 

“Go ahead, I guess.” 

“Thank you, Tilly.” He sat down on a log just to the side, and she lowered her weapon fully but gripped it tight. “Now, go ahead and take this.” He took a couple of bills and tucked them into the string around the parcel. She stared at it suspiciously.

 “I didn’t tell you nothing yet and I ain’t stupid mister Van der Linde, why are you giving me this.” 

He smiled and leaned forward to place the parcel on the ground in front of him, between them. 

“As I said, you’re quite the thief and I think you could help me out. Doesn't hurt to butter up the informant. There's some food in the package, I thought you looked a little hungry.”

She seemed to stare at the parcel longingly and something clenched in Dutch’s cold heart. The poor girl must be starving.

 “I…I don’t have no info for you, Mister Van der Linde. I just needed the clothes.” She seemed disappointed to be saying it, but she didn't lie to him like he thought she might.

“Well...maybe you could just keep me company then Milady. Good company is hard to find among us outlaws, as I’m sure you know.”

In a flash, she was back two steps and her knife was raised once more.

“I ain’t that kind of girl. you can keep your fucking money and go pay a real whore for your damned “company’”

This was the opposite of the outcome he was looking for, and entirely at the fault of his own poor word choice. He should have known better, there are only a few things that can happen to a young girl in this country to put her on the run and make her fear good company. 

“Now listen here, Miss Jackson. I am not that kind of man, I wouldn’t take advantage of you like I’m sure the bastards in Foreman’s gang tried. It’s like I said it, my gang is just good men looking for freedom and money. You can leave right now if you want and I won’t stop you, or you can stay and eat some, and I promise I won’t even look at you funny.”

She stood frozen, knife gripped tight. She seemed to be weighing her options. Dutch had yet to pose a threat to her, his weapons remained holstered. He hadn’t even tried to come close to her. She steeled her nerves and spoke again. 

“Then...Give me one of your guns. If you really ain’t gonna try nothing then give me one of your pistols and if you try and do anything bad I’ll shoot you.”

In any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have even considered it. But this wasn’t some criminal who he was wringing for information. This was a terrified little girl who was too afraid of the man in front of her to even eat food when she was starving. He slowly reached for his left holster and pulled out the pistol. He made a big show of flipping it in his hand so that his finger stayed away from the trigger as not to scare her, and he placed it beside the parcel. Gently he pushed them both over with his foot and sat back on the log with his hands beside him. 

She stared at him, and quick as lightning she grabbed the items from the ground. She backed up to her spot and slowly sat on the ground. The pistol was too big for her hand, and her other hand was getting blood on the side of the wrapped meat. Slowly she unwrapped the piece of dried venison, not breaking eye contact with the man sitting before her. “Why are you being so kind to me, I ain’t never heard of a ‘Good’ outlaw, we’re all just killers and thieves.”

He took note of the word ‘we’ before killers and thieves. Perhaps there was a reason she was so steady holding that knife. “I suppose no truer words have been spoken Miss Tilly, but I was never the type to watch a young lady suffer…You know, I found my son Arthur when he was about your age. The boy was just starving in the streets, stealing what he could. Quite like you are now.”

She didn’t respond, just stared at him a moment longer before taking a large bite of the meat. He hadn’t seen someone eat so ravenously since he fed John for the first time.

It took a lot of talking to get her to let her guard down. She didn’t reveal much about herself, other than that her mother died and she wasn’t part of the foreman gang, she was just there. Though the tension in her shoulders slowly sapped away as she filled her stomach and let herself calm down. They spoke for a few hours and he tried his best not to treat her like a child, god knows they hate when you do that. He couldn’t help but notice that she just seemed so sad. Once all that fear subsided and she spoke more freely, it was clear that she was lost. She mentioned her mother’s death with deep sorrow, her eyes going glassy before she seemed to catch herself and move on. 

Eventually, her hand stopped bleeding, and he tried to catch a look at it as she gestured. The sun was nearly set and he would have to get back to camp before they went looking for him.

He told her as much and he watched that deep-set sadness seep back to her features. 

“Oh… well. It was nice to meet you Dutch.” She used his first name for the first time. He stood up and she did as well, wincing as she used her injured hand to push off the ground.

“You know... you could come back with me and let our doctor take a look at that hand. Well...she ain’t exactly a doctor, but she can fix it. We wouldn’t want that getting infected, it’s far easier to be an outlaw with both hands.”

She wanted to go with him, he could see it in her eyes. Good friends are hard to come by when you’re a child with no home. 

“And perhaps, you could stay awhile. Learn how to be a real outlaw instead of a dress thief.” She seemed offended at the comment, a funny little scowl crossing her features. She was thinking about the offer, and he hoped it sounded at least a little better than sleeping alone in the forest. 

“If I come to your camp….nobody's gonna try and touch me?”

 “Absolutely not my dear, if they try I’ll cut off their hand myself.” She seemed to giggle a little at the notion, a sound he would take pride in. She sobered up and asked; 

“And I can leave whenever I want? I ain’t gonna let anyone try and say they own me ever again.”

“If you come to camp, Tilly Jackson will remain a free woman, but you’ll have a home to come back to if that’s what you would like.”

He watched her hesitate a little longer. Some coyotes barked in the distance and she shivered.  “Maybe just for a little while. Just to try it.” 

“And you can leave whenever you want.” he reassured.

“And I can leave whenever I want.” She repeated it back like she was convincing herself. He turned his back to adjust the Count’s saddle and give him a sugar cube, and he heard small footsteps come closer to him.

“Um. Can I give him one? He’s real pretty.” Dutch turned and she was at his side, staring at the large animal. She was even smaller up close, and he could see that her bones stood up against her dark skin.

“You know, I think he would like that. Now here, take just one of these and put it in your hand flat. Don’t worry, he won’t bite you.” She went to take it from his hand before realizing her hands were full with the knife and Dutch’s gun. 

“Oh. Here you go, Mister Dutch.” She tried to hand him back the gun. Bravely he thought, to give up her best defense, but he didn’t take it.

“I’ll tell you what my lady, It’s gonna be a bit of a ride to get back to camp and I don’t want you feeling like you can’t hold your own. You hold on to that one just until we get back, alright? We can put your knife in the bag safe and sound.” She obliged, putting the hunting knife gently in the saddlebag and holding on to the pistol. Then Dutch gave her the sugar cube and she held it out to the horse gingerly. The Count had no such hesitation and stole the treat from her hand quickly, the softness of his nose near her fingers making her giggle.

“Now, I think we might just be ready to move! Can I help you up milady?” He said, with a ring clad hand extended like a butler. The gesture made her giggle more and Dutch was happy to see the sadness put aside for a little while. She took his hand in her much smaller one and let him lead her to the side of the saddle.

“Now, can I lift you or do you want to go stand on the log over there?” She could read the underlying notion. The hidden meaning of ‘Do you want me to touch you’, ‘is it okay if I lift you’, etc. He was being more considerate than anyone she had ever met. She took a deep breath and put a little trust in him.

“You can lift me if that’s okay.”

“It would be my honor milady.” He lifted her onto the horse’s rump and tried not to think about how light she was. How he could feel her bones through the layers of her shirt. Once she was settled, he climbed up himself. Before they got going he pulled out his canteen and an apple from the bag. 

“Here. Dinner will be done by the time we get to camp and there’s no reason you should go hungry back there, that just wouldn’t befit such a distinguished young lady.” She accepted the food, and he set the Count into a walk to get them out of the underbrush. Once they were on the path he pushed into a more brisk pace, but he wouldn’t risk trotting with her back there, the count’s trot could be rather rough and she’s so thin she would just be thrown off.

It would be a long ride back to camp at this pace, but it just gave him more time to get to know her and tell her about camp. 

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog Ch. 2-3

Chapter 2 is a flashback to the origin of Sir Integra Hellsing.   As established in Chapter 1, the Hellsing Organization is a secret anti-Halloween-monster task force.   From what I’ve been able to tell, they have a small army of guys and they all live and train in a big mansion, and the Hellsing family runs the whole show.   It’s sort of like the X-Men except they actually do cool shit and you only have to keep track of four or five characters.   

It’s implied throughout this manga that the Hellsing Family is descended from Abraham Van Helsing, the vampire hunter seen in Bram Stoker’s novel, Dracula.    Shoot, I just remembered I wanted to read the novel so I’d know what this manga was referencing, but it’s too late, I’ll just have to do that later.   I’ve been meaning to read the Great Gatsby for several years, too, and I just never get around to it.   

On the other hand, Integra claimed that her family had been at this since “ancient times”, suggesting that they predate the events of the Dracula novel.  If Abraham Van Helsing was part of their line, then he may have only been carrying on a tradition instead of founding a new one.   I think the conceit of Hellsing is that it regards the Dracula novel as part of its canon.   That is, in this fictional world, the events in the novel really happened, more or less.    I don’t know if that means the novel exists in this world or not.

Whatever the case, it was Arthur Hellsing running the organization up until 1989, when he suddenly took ill.   On his deathbed, he named his daughter as his successor, and asked his brother Richard to help her run things, since Integra was like, twelve, at the time.

Instead, Richard waited three days and staged a coup, forcing Li’l Integra to hide in the ventilation ducts.   He has to act quickly, and kill her before the whole staff finds out what he’s up to, but if he can kill her, he’ll assume control and be set for life.    I’m not really sure what Richard wants out of this.    Maybe he just really wants to run the family business, or maybe he wants to shut the whole thing down and just be a wealthy nobleman without all the monsters.   Anyway, the search for Integra leads to the “underground sector”, which hasn’t been used in over twenty years, so I guess 1969 is about when it was shut down?    It houses a dark arts lab, a library, speciment room, torture chamber, dissecting room, and a dungeon.   That last one tips Richard off, because before he died, Arthur told her that she could find something that would protect her.  

But all she finds inside is a corpse, and then Richard and his goons show up shortly after.   He plans to kill her slowly to punish her for wasting his time, but when he shoots he in the arm, some of the blood splashes on the corpse, and then it comes to life.

Just like Frosty the Snowman, only horrifying.   Richard tries to kill it, which seems pretty stupid, considering how they thought it was dead a minute ago.   That goes about as well as you’d expect, and after slaughtering the goons and taking Richard’s arm, the corpse kneels before Integra and addresses her as “Master.”

Richard apparently knew nothing of this, but the corpse seems to recognize him, at least as far as a Hellsing who’s not fit to head the family.  As Integra shoots Richard dead, the corpse introduces himself as Alucard, the name her family has always called him.  

One thing I find interesting here is that I could have sworn the Hellsing Ultimate anime established that Richard had poisoned Arthur, presumably thinking he would have a clear shot at the inheritance.   But it’s never mentioned here.   Maybe this was something they added in, because honestly, it just makes too much sense.  The implication of this flashback is that there are certain secrets in the Hellsing Family that only got passed down from parent to child.    Arthur and Richard’s father must have known about Alucard, and Arthur was likely the one who sealed him up in the basement in the first place, but neither of them said a word about him to Richard.   Maybe if they had, Richard might have thought twice before trying to take over.   Like the Cheddar Priest, he thought he had it all figured out, but he didn’t know what he didn’t know.

Back in the present day, Alucard is on the shooting range with Seras, teaching her how to shoot.   Seras already knows how to fire a gun, but Al wants her to hit targets at greater distances, using The Force a vampiric “third eye.”   He demonstrates by shooting a target one kilometer away, and hitting it perfectly.   For some reason, Integra is reading the paper nearby, and reminiscing about the her first meeting with Alucard ten years ago.   For some reason, she takes umbrage with the idea that she’s not still a “little girl” like she was back then.   Seras even ribs her a bit, which ticks Integra off.   Of course, Seras wouldn’t think Integra’s a “little girl”.   Integra’s a few years older than she is.  

The main point of all of this is that it establishes why Alucard works for Integra, and what they did with Seras after Alucard turned her into a vampire.   One way or another, Seras is just drafted to fight the Vampire Wars, or whatever they call it.   I find this kind of unsatisfying, because the anime didn’t expand on it either.   Seras just wakes up in the mansion, and Integra tosses her a uniform and says “Get dressed, kid, your shift starts in twenty minutes.”

I think Seras wants to work for the Hellsing Organization, partly because she has nowhere else to go, and partly because she admires Alucard and wants to join his cause.    But it’s never established that Seras has a choice in the matter.  It’s implied that Alucard is magically bound to the Hellsing family.    Integra called him “the research” that her “father and the others were doing.”  Like, you can’t just have a vampire work for you, you have to do stuff to him to make him obey.   I don’t think they’re mind-controlling Al per se.  He seems fully aware of what his role is, and he’s totally comfortable in it.   But he’s not just doing this voluntarily, either.    Integra has some sort of power over him, and my assumption is that Seras inherited that same quality when Alucard turned her.   So now she’s bound to Integra’s orders in the same way.  

But there’s a lot of unanswered questions in this.    I would think Alucard would be expressly forbidden from making his own ghouls or vampire broods.   Yet he drank Seras’ blood without any problems.  Maybe he’s allowed to do it if he has permission?    That might be it.    But then he brings her back to Integra, and I assume she has to make the decision to either keep Seras or destroy her.   I mean, Seras is handy to have on the team, sure, but if this was a good idea, why didn’t they have Alucard do this before?   I guess the situation just never came up.  

I think a lot about what might have happened if the Cheddar Priest had turned her into a vampire.    Would she have become loyal to him?  He said she would have free will, but she’s pretty deferential to Alucard, so what’s that about?   And if she had become a vampire and turned against the Priest, would Al have allowed her to live?   He was on a mission to destroy vampires, so I would think he would have shot first and asked questions later.    Well, let’s move on.

Chapter 3 jumps ahead to August 12, so Seras has been with the team for a little over a month now.   A bunch of murders have taken place in Birmingham (England, not Alabama), and this time no one waits around to call in Hellsing, though they are still surprised to find out she’s a woman.     

This time, the culprit is on the move, and Integra deduces that they’re choosing specific households full of “devout Christians” and spacious walls to write “blasphemous anti-Christian messages.”   Since they’re moving along Route 17, Integra has a rough idea of where they’ll strike next.  

I don’t know what the point of the “blasphemous messages” or seemingly ritual killings is supposed to be, since the killers are just this young vampire couple who only seem to be interested in this for immortality and power.   Their goal seems to be to kill thirteen families, and “they’ll” see to it that they get stronger.   I don’t know if this means some other party has put them up to this, or maybe they mean “they” as in all the families they’re killing.   It’s like this is an initiation ritual or something, except we’ve already seen Seras become a vampire, and she didn’t have to do anything like this to seal the deal. 

Then again, maybe the point of this chapter is to demonstrate that vampires take a while to get all their powers.  When Alucard confronts them, he scolds them, not for their string of murders, but for their lack of conviction, and their inability to transform or fight without guns.     So maybe this couple was trying to jumpstart the process by feeding on several dozen people in a short span of time.    But Al seems to think that isn’t how it works.    I don’t fully understand his moral code, but he doesn’t seem to object to vampires on principle.   Being a vampire is fine with him, so long as you have a purpose to it.   If you’re only in it for immortality and power, with no other reason, then he doesn’t respect you.   Seras wanted to live, but not necessarily forever, and I think she wanted power, but only enough to fight against evil.   That’s what sets her apart in Alucard’s eyes. 

So he kills the boy, but the girl escapes out the window, but Alucard already had that move scouted.

I’m not sure who’s saying “No!” here.   Maybe the girl vampire running down the road.   Anyway, Alucard put Seras on the roof of the house before he went inside, just in case anyone tried to make a break for it.   So all she has to do is shoot down the runner before she’s out of range.  Except she’s 600 meters away, it’s night time, and Seras doesn’t have a scope for her gun.   But Al reminds her to use her “third eye” and it works.  

After it’s over, Seras realizes that she didn’t even feel the recoil of the gun, and she can see in the dark with no trouble at all.   She wonders what’s happening to her, but that seems like a dumb question to ask one month after turning into a vampire.    I’m guessing the first few weeks of it didn’t feel all that different to her, and she probably knew she’d get stronger and better at shooting guns, but now that it’s actually happening it feels a lot stranger than she expected it to be.   In the anime, Seras also points out that she can hear Alucard talking to her in her mind, which is also weird, but I guess she’s got plenty of other weird stuff to process now.

Back at the base, Integra considers the recent increase in vampire attacks.   They’re all jobbers, like this couple Al and Seras killed, and none of them have any particular agenda, except to kill people.    She begins to wonder if someone’s making all these vampires just to cause trouble.  Hmmm...

So, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself here, but this foreshadows Milennium quite nicely, but are we saying Milennium made vampires out of that boy and girl?   Were they behind the Cheddar Priest as well?  Also, “two” doesn’t seem like a huge increase in vampire incidents, so I guess there have been some other vampires running around between Chapters 1 and 3.   Oh well. 

[hayleysstark]

GIVE US THE INTENSE ANALYSIS ON MERLIN AND KILGHARRAH YEEEES

may i just say, i am very glad you asked but i really don’t think you’re going to be, by the end of this. do you know how many Thoughts™️ i have had about one very stupid warlock and one very cryptic dragon???? do you????? do you know????? i could turn this into a fucking,,,,,, PowerPoint presentation if i cared to except i don’t and also i would never inflict PowerPoint on my followers, i love you guys far too much for that, i’m sorry for even suggesting it honestly

i AM sorry in advance for how long this is going to be, though, i’ll try to just reference key points, such as,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, 

The Dragon’s Call

I legitimately don’t even know where to start with this, to tell you the truth - there is just so much to talk about here, and I’m honestly a bit overwhelmed - but I think, most of all, it’s incredibly important to note how easily, how effortlessly, Kilgharrah handles Merlin here. 

We don’t know yet how much Kilgharrah truly knows about Merlin as a person - all he ever mentions, in this interaction at least, is the destiny Merlin shares with Arthur - but Merlin gives himself away all too easily. There is such earnest desperation and hope on his face when Kilgharrah talks of fate. He lays bare the thing he wants more than anything else in the world–a purpose for himself and his power–and Kilgharrah immediately seizes this advantage. He dangles a “great destiny” in front of Merlin like a horse with a carrot, but he neglects the details and the specifics in favor of the big picture.

The only true instruction Merlin receives from Kilgharrah in this scene is “protect Arthur”. There’s some stuff about Albion, and freedom for sorcerers, of course, but Kilgharrah leaves it all a bit fuzzy, a bit scrambled. Clearly, he has plenty more to say on the subject, but he deliberately holds back. Like he’s going to clear it all up, yes, of course, but not tonight, no, maybe next time he sees Merlin.

And that’s exactly what he wants.

I know Kilgharrah’s cryptic, confusing, usually not-very-helpful advice is sort of treated a bit like a running joke, by the fandom and the series itself, but just think, for even a second, about the implications of it. 

Kilgharrah does not intend to tell Merlin everything he needs to know to fulfill the prophecy. Kilgharrah does not intend to tell Merlin even a fraction of everything he needs to know. Kilgharrah wants to keep Merlin coming back for more. Kilgharrah needs Merlin. Kilgharrah needs to earn Merlin’s trust. Kilgharrah needs to establish a relationship with Merlin if he’s ever going to get free of his prison. 

At this point in time, Kilgharrah does not care about Merlin. Kilgharrah does not care, even, about destiny, or Albion. Merlin is merely a means to an end, and so Kilgharrah treats him as such - gives him the bare minimum, gives him the slightest taste of what he wants, and pretends he’s doing Merlin an enormous favor the whole way through. 

Perhaps Kilgharrah expects Merlin to jump at this chance - after all, great destinies bring much glory - but that’s absolutely not the case, and, as Merlin gets blunter and blunter about his doubts and reluctance, Kilgharrah takes away all other options.

Kilgharrah tells Merlin that the prophecy is not something he can cast off or leave behind. It’s not something he can outrun. As a matter of fact, their very next interaction in Valiant has a similar exchange.

Kilgharrah cuts off Merlin’s escape routes. Kilgharrah wants to trap Merlin. Kilgharrah wants Merlin to feel trapped, fettered, bound to something he doesn’t even want. Kilgharrah does not want Merlin to have a choice, so Kilgharrah denies him this choice right from the start. Kilgharrah teaches Merlin that he does not get to say no.

And it only gets worse as S1 drags on. Nearly all of their earliest interactions follow the same pattern, every single time: Kilgharrah never gives Merlin the whole truth, and Kilgharrah never forgets to make Merlin feel special. 

And it works. It absolutely horrified me to sit through S1 at certain points - the pattern of malicious manipulation stood out to me so starkly, I couldn’t think how other people could even stomach it, to be honest. And even worse, you have to watch the hero wander right into the lions’ den, lay docilely down, and wait for the inevitable, because that manipulation fucking worked.

By as early as The Mark of Nimeuh, Merlin is clearly very at ease with Kilgharrah, visibly relaxed and even content in the caves with him. And it’s a horrific thing to see. If you recognize the pattern, if you recognize the way Kilgharrah draws Merlin in, it truly is a horrific thing to see. 

And it only gets worse. 

By The Beginning of the End, Merlin has started to take his destiny seriously–so seriously, he calls Arthur’s death “unthinkable”, so seriously that Kilgharrah advises him to kill a child, and Merlin actually takes the time to step back and consider it. This is where the true scope of Kilgharrah’s manipulation can best be seen, especially by the viewers who didn’t notice it, or just didn’t actively look for it in or after The Dragon’s Call.

As in The Dragon’s Call and Valiant, Kilgharrah cuts off Merlin’s escape routes. Kilgharrah traps Merlin. But it’s not like The Dragon’s Call, and it’s not like Valiant, not really, because this time, Kilgharrah is nowhere near as straightforward about it. He does not outright tell Merlin “you have no choice”–as a matter of fact, he is very quick to emphasize how much of a choice Merlin truly has. 

And how, if Merlin dares to make the wrong one, it’s going to be all his fault.

Again, this is where the full extent of Kilgharrah’s machinations fully comes to light. For all but Merlin.

Because Merlin continues to trust Kilgharrah right up until

Le Morte d’Arthur

The term “emotional rollercoaster” is, in all honesty, a very weak way to describe this episode, but it’s the best I’ve got, so that’ll have to do. So, to make sure I don’t just fuck off right here, rewatch this one, and cry literal buckets, the way I’d really like to, I’ll just jump right on in. (I already have this whole episode memorized by heart anyway.)

If the casual way Kilgharrah sent Merlin off on an actual suicide mission - in absolutely every sense of the term - wasn’t enough to tip Merlin off that the cryptic lizard under the castle couldn’t be trusted, well, don’t worry, because the rest of the episode certainly does that.

This is the moment when Merlin finally starts to see through Kilgharrah’s pretty words, this is the moment when Merlin finally starts to see the web Kilgharrah has woven all around him, and it is done absolutely brilliantly.

Kilgharrah has grown so confident–so complacent, even–in his control over Merlin, he makes no attempt, at any point, to mask his true intentions.

And Merlin never wondered, not even once, if Kilgharrah might have an ulterior motive, a deeper reason, to see Arthur succeed, to see the prophecy come to fruition. Merlin never suspected Kilgharrah of treachery or deceit. 

At first glance, this line is flat, unimaginative, unoriginal - you see it in every stereotypical fantasy series when the hero suffers a betrayal - but if you go back through S1 and you really pay attention to what’s led up to this, and damn, that line cuts deep. Because it’s true. It’s the truth. Merlin really believed Kilgharrah wanted the best for him. 

Merlin really believed Kilgharrah was his friend.

Because Kilgharrah played him like a goddamned fiddle.

And even now, Kilgharrah thinks he can pull Merlin right back under his thumb, he truly thinks he’s still got a hold on Merlin, however small.

When Kilgharrah sees he’s lost the emotional advantage he had over Merlin, he immediately finds another angle to work with - the magical connections he and Merlin share. And it backfires spectacularly.

This is the first moment we see Kilgharrah truly fail. And this is the first moment we see Kilgharrah lose all control, and lash out in wild fury.

This was not a calculated move. This was not part of the plan. This was not the way Kilgharrah wanted things to go from here. This is raw, uncontrolled, unrestrained rage. This does not fit into the grand scheme Kilgharrah has cooked up over all those years in the dark, this is something far more primal than that. This is an emotional reaction in the deepest sense of the term, and it’s Merlin who dragged such an extreme response out of him. 

But unlike in previous episodes, Merlin doesn’t come back and resolve it all. Things stay sour between them for–well, several weeks, actually, that’s my best guess, because we see in The Curse of Cornelius Sigan, Merlin’s outright refusal, at first, to return to Kilgharrah.

Gaius eventually convinces Merlin to mend fences with the dragon - Camelot will fall if he doesn’t, which certainly gives Merlin an incentive - but Kilgharrah’s help comes at a steep price now. 

It’s clear Kilgharrah has realized he doesn’t need to play Merlin anymore. He doesn’t need to hide what he really wants, and he certainly doesn’t need to do anything special to keep Merlin coming back to him. Merlin needs him. Merlin will come back so long as he still has a prince to protect. So Kilgharrah, with this newfound sort of freedom, goes to the opposite extreme. He tears Merlin down for the smallest thing, he criticizes Merlin for every last little failure, he sneers at Merlin’s resolute hold to his own morality, he blames and belittles Merlin, he is needlessly and openly cruel to Merlin at absolutely every opportunity.

In The Nightmare Begins, we see he refuses to help Merlin with Morgana, he insists Morgana is not to be trusted and he calls Merlin a fool for his attempts to help her with her magic. 

And, in The Witch’s Quickening, Kilgharrah reproaches Merlin for his failures with both Mordred and Morgana. (That’s honestly just a constant throughout S2 - Merlin does something, Kilgharrah tears him apart for it, Merlin defends himself and his decisions, Kilgharrah reminds Merlin of his promise to set him free, Merlin swears he will, and so on and so forth. I really don’t think we need to touch on every single interaction between them in S2, as many of them are largely the same.) 

But a few key points here….. 

The Fires of Idirsholas

Anyone notice how every season finale, with the exception of S4, marks a major turning point in Merlin and Kilgharrah’s relationship??? Because I fucking do. anyways, quick aside before we get into the more serious stuff

Merlin knows Kilgharrah well enough to know the dragon’s just fucking around, and honestly, that makes me so happy. one of them might be a scaly asshole and the other might be a magical bastard, but goddamn, their relationship still has its moments.

So this scene is,,,,,,,,,, honestly really important, I’ll just stick a bunch of screenshots in right here and dissect it as I go

Merlin acts rashly here, there’s definitely no doubt about that, but honest to God, this is one impulsive decision where you just can’t blame him at all. Kilgharrah has backed him completely into a corner–and, in keeping with his new attitude toward Merlin in S2, Kilgharrah doesn’t bother with subtlety, Kilgharrah doesn’t even try and rely on manipulation to get Merlin exactly where he wants him to be. 

It seems overt threats and brute force are the tools Kilgharrah has turned to, since he lost his command over Merlin in S1.

As we can see here, Kilgharrah does not bother to try and lightly nudge Merlin down the “right” path–why would he bother to be kind if he doesn’t absolutely have to be, after all? This is just the most complete turnaround from The Beginning of the End, and it’s absolutely astounding how smoothly, how neatly, the change in Kilgharrah comes about.

But, as we all know, the overt threats and brute force actually work. Merlin does exactly as Kilgharrah wants - he poisons Morgana, he steals a sword from the Knights of Medhir, and he frees Kilgharrah (anyone else remember the fUCKING MAGIC STAIRS THAT LITERALLY DIDN’T EXIST UNTIL MERLIN NEEDED THEM Or nah just me?? maybe Merlin magicked them up with his phenomenal cosmic powers i dunno either way i fucking hate it)

And this string of Nice Job Breaking It, Hero! decisions leads us to……

The Last Dragonlord

There’s a lot of ground to cover in this episode, honestly, but for now, let’s focus on how Kilgharrah knew Balinor. 

Let’s break that shit down, because it’s really fucking important, actually. Kilgharrah knew Balinor. To that end, he must have known Merlin. Maybe he knew Merlin’s ancestry right from the start, maybe he sensed it, even, through the telepathic connection he established with Merlin in The Dragon’s Call, or maybe, the moment he laid eyes on Merlin, he simply saw so much of Balinor there, and he put it all together, but however he worked it out, Kilgharrah knew Balinor, and Kilgharrah knew Merlin must be Balinor’s son. 

And Kilgharrah deliberately withheld this from Merlin.

And Kilgharrah rarely makes a move without reason. Kilgharrah has always got some sort of plan, some sort of scheme, some kind of angle to work, and that’s exactly what he has right here. 

Because, God knows, if Merlin ever met Balinor, if Merlin ever learned about dragonlords, if Merlin ever had any knowledge of the magical world Kilgharrah did not personally hand to him, it would give Merlin an advantage. However small, this knowledge would give Merlin an advantage.

And Kilgharrah cannot let him have that. 

i previously touched pretty heavily on this episode, and what it means for Merlin and Kilgharrah’s relationship here, so i’ll just reiterate briefly ~ 

Ever since Le Morte d’Arthur, Merlin and Kilgharrah’s relationship has headed for something serious, something major–if all the bits of S2 weren’t enough to foreshadow that, Merlin’s final promise to free Kilgharrah in The Fires of Idirsholas certainly did–and that incredible tension finally comes to a head here. When Merlin discovers his own latent dragonlord abilities. When Merlin “finds the voice” that he and Kilgharrah share. When Merlin realizes Kilgharrah’s soul and his are “brothers”.   

Oh, no, Merlin doesn’t forgive Kilgharrah here–and that’s what most powerful about it, in all honesty, it really just wouldn’t have packed the same punch, if Merlin had truly buried the hatchet here. But he doesn’t. The hard edges of his anger soften, he sees revenge is a pathetic and pointless thing to try and exact from Kilgharrah, and he sees he has laid unnecessary and unfair blame on Kilgharrah. But he doesn’t forgive Kilgharrah. Not at all.

And Kilgharrah doesn’t forgive Merlin. 

Kilgharrah comes to respect Merlin. Up until now, Kilgharrah has seen Merlin as little more than a child–foolish and naive and entirely dependent on others, too easily tricked, too easy to take advantage of, too quick to trust, too quick to love, too quick to give his heart away–and while that perspective isn’t necessarily unfair, it’s not the whole picture, either. Merlin isn’t just a child. Merlin isn’t just foolish and naive and gullible. 

And for the first time, Kilgharrah really sees that. Kilgharrah has believed, up until right this moment, that Merlin’s heart, Merlin’s compassion, Merlin’s love, would lead him to his death, to Arthur’s death, to the fall of Camelot, to the failure of the prophecy. Kilgharrah didn’t truly believe Merlin could achieve his destiny. Not until right now.

Because, for the first time, Merlin’s heart, Merlin’s compassion, Merlin’s love, serves Kilgharrah.

Merlin shows Kilgharrah mercy (and commands him to “do the same to others”) and in the face of such an unexpected and undeserved kindness, Kilgharrah finally sees Merlin in his entirety. 

And Kilgharrah comes to respect Merlin.

Something fundamental has shifted between them. Something has changed here tonight, and it’s immediately obvious right from their very first scene together in S3. 

If that - and the gentle, almost sweet way Kilgharrah cares for Merlin here - didn’t already indicate a serious shift in their dynamic, the rest of it certainly does. 

If The Last Dragonlord wasn’t a thing, do you really think Kilgharrah would ever have said Merlin “showed great courage” when he followed his heart? Yeah. Neither do I. Oh, and then Kilgharrah allows Merlin to ride upon his back all the way to Camelot.

What a blatant change from S2, don’t you think? But the conflict between Merlin and Kilgharrah isn’t entirely over. With two such obstinate, contrary personalities, it’s almost inevitable, to tell the truth.

But The Crystal Cave is, I think, the first true example of how Merlin, rather than Kilgharrah, holds all the power in their relationship now.

In S1, Kilgharrah convinced Merlin he did not get to say no.

In S3, Merlin proves Kilgharrah truly does not get to say no. Kilgharrah has absolutely no choice in this, Kilgharrah has absolutely no power or control or command here. It all lies with Merlin. And Merlin is so damned out of line.

Don’t misunderstand me. It’s wonderful that Merlin has finally learned how to handle himself around Kilgharrah. He has finally learned how to stand on his own and stick to his guns, he has finally proven Kilgharrah cannot lead him around blindly as in S1. 

But Merlin is out of line here. Merlin does mistreat Kilgharrah here. Merlin does abuse his power here. And that’s not okay. 

Kilgharrah isn’t the sole “bad guy” in this dynamic, and Merlin is not his helpless, defenseless victim. It’s not so simple as all that. The minute the power is placed in Merlin’s hands, he uses it. He is every bit as cruel to Kilgharrah as Kilgharrah has ever been to him. 

(something very interesting to note here: Merlin waits to see what Kilgharrah will do. He’s already given his orders, there is little more Kilgharrah can do, but Merlin is genuinely curious to see if a dragon can truly shake off his control. As we see in Kilgharrah’s acquiescence mere moments later, he cannot. this has nothing to do with anything, I just really like the little detail.)

Kilgharrah and Merlin never resolve this conflict, but the next time they get together, in The Coming of Arthur, things appear to be back to normal. There’s no lasting anger on either side. Kilgharrah even proclaims his loyalty to Merlin, and lets Merlin ride upon his back again. 

In The Darkest Hour, the year’s gap has clearly only served to strengthen Merlin and Kilgharrah’s relationship even further.

Kilgharrah’s confession here is powerful enough all on its own, but the soft, sorrowful way he says it really plays up how much he would truly miss Merlin, were he to lose him now. Even Kilgharrah in S3 hadn’t yet developed enough–or, in truth, softened enough–to grieve Merlin as he does here.  

And yet, for all of that, Kilgharrah’s character stays mostly the same, right up until the end of the series. Yes, he has come to care about Merlin now - he doesn’t even try to deny it - and yet, he still cares for himself and his own plans more. 

And he makes that pretty clear in Aithusa.

To be fair to Kilgharrah, Merlin’s hesitation here is merely that - a hesitation. He is going to go after the egg. He is going to rescue Aithusa. He’s already made up his mind. He just needs a little push, and Kilgharrah’s intention here is simply to provide him with that push.

But guilt didn’t need to be that push. Guilt shouldn’t have been that push. The inherent malice in a mention of Merlin’s father felt cruel. Like a step backward for Kilgharrah and his growth. Like he hadn’t changed at all since S1. 

And it felt right! Kilgharrah shouldn’t have to change the very essence of who he is, as a character, as a person, to prove how much he has grown. He has grown! By leaps and bounds, he has grown, and this is not an erasure of that growth, this is a reminder that all that growth will not turn him into a pure or wholesome or unproblematic character.

If you really need a further demonstration of Kilgharrah’s development over the course of the series, just look at his reaction when he hears Aithusa’s egg is still out there somewhere.

This is not an act. This is real. Kilgharrah is overjoyed at the idea that he will not have to be alone any longer, and it astounds me, still, how truly open with Merlin he is here, how freely he expresses himself. Even as late as S3, Kilgharrah takes care to cloak and conceal his emotions even from his dragonlord, and to see him so candid is honestly a bit of a shock.

Kilgharrah has come to trust Merlin enough to be honest with him, to be open with him. For that alone, this moment is one of the most important the two share over the course of the series.

also, this episode is my personal favorite from S4, so have a rare glimpse of Merlin and Kilgharrah being happy together:

We don’t see much of Kilgharrah from here on out - in fact, we don’t see him in S4 at all after this - except his brief appearance in The Sword in the Stone ((which was hella rad, by the way, don’t ever piss one Merlin Emrys off or he will just call up a fucking dragon to rain down literal hellfire on you i guess)) - but the times we do see him are very important!

The Kindness of Strangers

Raise your hand if this episode just utterly wrecked you, because,,,,,,,,,, uh,,,,,,, yeah,,,,,,,, as the kids say,,,,,,,, “big same”,,,,,,,,,,

Merlin and Kilgharrah’s time together is actually very short, in this episode, but all the more poignant and impactful for that. It’s clear right from the first moment Merlin opens his mouth that the dynamic between the two of them has evolved yet again. Aithusa definitely planted the seeds for this new and stronger relationship, but it’s only here we get to see those seeds truly blossom.

So, yes, there are definite echoes of Aithusa here–Kilgharrah is honest, he’s candid, he’s open with his emotions, but unlike in Aithusa, he’s much freer with his affection for Merlin. Sure, he’s certainly had his moments (The Darkest Hour jumps readily to mind) but even so, he’s never been quite this quick to confess how much he’s truly come to care for Merlin.

And it’s a rare thing, really, to see Merlin so relaxed around Kilgharrah. It’s taken the two of them a long time to grow so comfortable with each other, and it’s wonderful to finally get to see it!

………oh, yeah, and then there’s this

So this is kind of branded into my memory (listen, I was already braced for Arthur’s death, okay, I did not expect to lose Kilgharrah, too, and if you think I didn’t cry literal buckets after this episode, you are fucking WRONG) but the bits that really stick out?

“What will I do without you?” “It is the cycle of life–no more, no less.”

The two of them have really just come such a long way, haven’t they? Remember in S1, when Merlin was merely a means to an end for Kilgharrah? Remember in S2, when Kilgharrah was nothing more than a necessary evil to Merlin?  

Now, Merlin cannot imagine his life without Kilgharrah and now, Kilgharrah tries to ease Merlin’s grief and sorrow in any way he can. 

Which, actually, is the exact same thing he does in 

The Diamond of the Day

Kilgharrah has just seen Merlin fail, in the worst and most enormous way possible. Destiny has finally come to fruition, and Emrys himself was not strong enough to stop it. 

And yet, Kilgharrah - who, in the past, has never hesitated to point out all the ways Merlin went wrong, no matter how Merlin feels in the moment - offers nothing but comfort, and the first glimmers of hope for the future.

A little hard to believe, isn’t it, that this is the same dragon we met in S1. damn it’s been literal years and i’m STILL shook over the drastic change in the two of them. 

Though the core of the characters remain largely consistent, the two of them truly just shape each other so much as the series goes on. 

Merlin would not be the person he is in S5 without Kilgharrah, and Kilgharrah would not be the person he is in S5 without Merlin.

thanks for coming to my TED talk ~ 

[djemsostylist]

What is Libertas?

Tl;dr Libertas is the Sword of the Red Hilt, first wielded by Galahad in the Quest for the Holy Grail, and Nathaniel Garro is probably a descendent of Joseph of Arimathea. Or something.

Okay, so this summer, while waiting for the next Siege book, I started a thorough reading of Arthurian Legend.  I’ve read Malory and de Troyes and I’m currently making my way through Vulgate.  (Bear with me, this is going somewhere I promise)  It was in reading Malory though, that something kind of crystalized. 

I got access to Saturnine back in early quarantine, like mid-March or so.  The whole book was phenomenal of course--particularly the part with the Kill Teams.  The whole thing is cathartic and chaotic and perfect, but it was also the first time we’ve seen Loken and Garro in a while--and damn was it an outing for both of them.  But it was also where we sort of went from “Libertas is a really good sword” to, “okay, what is up with Libertas?”  And while it seems the most obvious answer is “Excalibur” because swords in stones and all that, I actually think there is a better answer. 

From Saturnine (pg 331 of the ebook): “Garro cartwheeled, and landed hard, his pauldron splintered. Libertas had been knocked out of his grip. The sword had landed two metres from him, tip down, the blade buried a third of its length deep in the stone floor...Kibre thumped towards {Garro]. He glanced at the sword, quivering in the ground. He’d seen what it could do...He grabbed it to pull it free. It would not budge. He pulled harder, applying the full might of his amplified body and amplified plate.

Libertas would not come free...Garro was on his feet again...Garro slid the sword out of the stone with no effort at all. The blade came up, and impaled Kibre through the chest.”  (Kibre failing to draw the sword is important--remember it, and we’ll come back to it later).

My immediate reaction on reading it was “holy shit, EXCALIBUR?????” because yes, Excalibur was technically the sword Arthur received from the lady in the lake after pulling the sword from the stone and then breaking it fighting Pellinore, but also the tales are often confusing because Malory refers to both swords as Excalibur (because of the differing versions in Vulgate), and then there’s Caliburn from Geoffrey of Monmouth which is probably also Excalibur, and yeah.  Anyway, the point is that while the sword in the stone isn’t really Excalibur, it also kind of is for most people, so that would seem to be the obvious answer to “what is Libertas?” when you have a sword that only certain people can pull from a stone. 

EXCEPT that reading both Malory and various other Arthurian legends this summer led to another and actually more fitting answer. 

First let me start with what we know about Libertas (mostly taken from Garro and Flight of the Eisenstein).  It’s a greatsword, easily wielded two handed, and has “elements” from Old Earth before the Age of Strife.  We know that it is a power sword (so likely the hilt has been replaced and the “elements” are in the blade) and that holding it makes Garro feel “complete” and “right”.  

But perhaps the most interesting bit we have about Libertas is this passage from Garro: “At the last second, the legionary jack-knifed and fell on the attacker with his sword aimed down. The tip of the blade almost hit the mark, a fraction of a centimetre from the point where the neck-ring of the attacker’s armour joined the helmet seal. Had it fallen true, Libertas would have sliced down inside his collarbone, bursting through lung and primary heart. Instead, the sword tip slashed away hood and cloak, screeching down the chest plate to leave a sparking gouge in the ceramite. In the bright aura of the power sword, Garro saw the colour of his adversary’s wargear for the first time. A matte yellow-gold that could only belong to one legion.” 

This is Nathaniel Garro.  He’s a consummate swordsman.  He doesn’t miss.  We know Libertas is a strong blade--it is capable of literally bisecting fully armored marines.  And yet, the sword skips.  Nathaniel Garro jumps on a man, blade down, and somehow, despite the close range, element of surprise, and the fact that he’s Nathaniel Garro, it misses.  What it does do, however, is reveal a disguised brother for who he truly is.  Remember this--we’ll also come back to it in a bit.   

Then, of course, is the iconic moment in Saturnine, where Libertas is embedded in the stone, and Kibre fails to pull it out, Garro succeeds, and then Kibre is subsequently killed by Libertas. 

So this means Libertas is special.  The sword itself has meaning, unlike say Rubio’s sword, whose “specialness” is mostly in that it shows off Loken’s latent psyker abilities.  But Excalibur is a little too famous for Libertas.  Firstly, because Excalibur is a king’s sword--whether given by the Lady of the Lake, or pulled from the stone, the sword is given to a ruler.  And while I love Nathaniel Garro, he is not king.  And secondly, Excalibur just comes with a little too much baggage, if that makes sense.  

Luckily, Arthurian legend is full of nothing but swords, and this is where we find a perfect candidate, or as near to one as we are going to get.  

In Arthurian legend, there is a knight called Balin.  He is one of Arthur’s knights, but he is not a knight of the round table--that hadn’t been established yet.  Balin is a young knight in Arthur’s court when a maiden enters with a sword she says can only be drawn by the worthy.  Balin draws the sword, but when he refuses to give it back, the maiden curses it to “slay with the sword the best friend that ye have, and the man that ye most love in the world, and the sword shall be your destruction”.  This leads to a series of adventures (most of which end in tragedy--it is Arthurian legend after all), all of which culminate in him fighting his brother to the death. 

The catch is, he doesn’t know it’s his brother.  His brother, Balan, is currently serving as the Knight of the Fountain, which means he is wearing different armor and not carrying his usual device on his shield.  Balin also is not wearing his usual device, having just traded his shield for another.  So, unknowingly, the two brothers fight and mortally wound each other and thus Balin fulfills the curse by killing his brother with the sword--and, the sword becomes marked as a kin-slayer. 

After the fight, Merlin takes the sword, sets it in a new hilt, and places the blade in a marble plinth which he sets to float on the river.  “This is the cause, said Merlin: there shall never man handle this sword but the best knight of the world, and that shall be Sir Launcelot or else Galahad his son, and Launcelot with this sword shall slay the man that in the world he loved best, that shall be Sir Gawaine. All this he let write in the pommel of the sword.” 

Years later, the sword is spotted by Arthur and his knights before the feast of Pentecost.  The inscription on the blade reads “Never shall man take me hence, but only he by whose side I ought to hang, and he shall be the best knight of the world.”  Arthur asks Lancelot to draw it, but he refuses, saying that it is clearly not a sword meant for him, and also that “who that assayeth to take the sword and faileth of it, he shall receive a wound by that sword that he shall not be whole long after.”  

Okay, now, remember Kibre?  He tries to draw the sword from the stone, but fails, and shortly thereafter, he is killed by Libertas when drawn by Garro, it’s true wielder.  This fulfills the points of the curse--when an unworthy man tries to draw the sword, he will, after, be wounded by it.  Excalibur (or the sword in the stone), is attempted to be drawn by many hands.  And none of those people are killed by it.  (Okay, so maybe some are.  But only because they fought against Arthur, and not because of a curse).  

Arthur then asks Gawain to draw the sword, and Gawain attempts but fails, as does Percival.  Not long after that, Galahad, Lancelot’s son, is brought to court.  He proves his worth by sitting in Siege Perilous, which is the seat at the Round Table which could only be filled by the greatest Knight in the realm.  In some versions, when the seat is filled, it heralds the end of Arthur’s realm and the splintering of the Round Table. In Malory and Vulgate, while it’s not specifically stated as being prophecy, after Galahad sits, the Grail Quest is commenced, and the Round Table is never filled again, and after achieving the Grail, Arthur’s reign does begin its downfall and its descent into blood feud and civil war.  In a way, Galahad’s arrival is the beginning of the end for Camelot. 

Anyway, after he arrives in Camelot, Galahad goes down to the river and draws the sword (sometimes known as the The Sword of the Red Hilt).  Shortly thereafter, the quest for the Grail begins, and of course, Galahad is the only one to achieve the quest through his purity, piety, and strength of will and character.  

Back to the curse--if someone unworthy attempts to draw the sword, they will be killed by it.  BUT, also remember that time when Garro tried to murder an Imperial Fist and didn’t (or couldn’t)?  After starting on the Grail quest, Galahad comes upon two knights in unknown armor--and he himself is also disguised.  One of the knights is his father, whom he overthrows with a lance, but the other knight is Percival--who also tried to draw the sword.  With Percival, Galahad has to resort to using his sword, and he does wound Percival, thus fulfilling the prophecy again.  However, he doesn’t kill him because at the last minute the sword “swerves”, sparing Percival’s life.  “And then he drew his sword, and dressed him unto Sir Percivale, and smote him so on the helm, that it rove to the coif of steel; and had not the sword swerved Sir Percivale had been slain, and with the stroke he fell out of his saddle”.  Sound familiar?  Like perhaps the sword has something of a will, and will not slay a beloved brother in unknown guise?  Especially a brother who is doing the work of God--or the Emperor?  (Percival did almost achieve the Grail after all, and was with Galahad until the end).   

After his death, the sword goes to Lancelot, who eventually uses it to mortally wound Gawain--who originally tried to draw the sword first--after the sundering of the round table--again, fulfilling the curse.  Falkus Kibre anyone?  (Which, I know we are focusing on Garro/Galahad parallels, but the point is that it is not the wielder who fulfills the curse, but the sword itself. ) 

And not that Garro is Galahad (although they both start with G, so take that as you will).  But, Galahad does sit at Siege Perilous, which is a seat that can only be occupied by the most worthy knight.  Garro is a Battle-Captain, which is an old, symbolic rank, that no one else in the Legion occupies.  And Garro is there at the beginning of the end--some might say he is the cause of it, when he witnesses the attack on Isstvan and brings the news to Dorn--but he also fulfills the quest that no one else can by bringing the news early and giving Dorn some time to prepare.    

So this is my theory.  The blade of Libertas is the sword of the Red Hilt, Galahad’s sword.  The hilt is replaced many times--the blade is what matters.  It retains the original prophecy and curse--that it may only be drawn/wielded by the worthy, and that anyone who attempts to draw it will be killed.  It also retains an element of will or memory--it began as a kin-slayer unknowing, and thereafter, its will allows it to turn aside when brought to wield against unknown brothers fighting in the service of God (or the Emperor BBA).  It is wielded by a true and honorable knight, one who follows a path of truth, righteousness, and reconciliation, a true knight of the realm, who lives to serve his king and God (and also one who saves a not insignificant number of maidens…) 

[the-headbop-wraith]

3_39 Kite Tethers

The morning progressed at a stubborn crawl.  Dawn lurked somewhere beyond the distant horizon, but the tilt of the globe refused to unshackle the warm rays of first light. For that time it was peaceful, and the winter night sustained a stillness that coiled around the frosted shell of the van.

Arthur was the first to emerge from his room, with Mystery as his undesired escort.  He couldn’t trust Mystery in the room alone without making a scene.  A truce had to be made between them, to be fair Mystery wasn’t in such agreement but he wouldn’t fight Arthur over it.  The most Mystery could do was make sure Arthur was looked after, and the dog could always start whining.

At this time of night the pre-dawn always seemed to acquire a sense of eternity, as if light had been exiled for countless years and its absence had eroded into normality.  This analogy made no sense at all, but it’s what Arthur felt while he ran diagnostics on the van.  

With its current mileage Arthur judged they could make it back with a quick check up, but he would feel better if he gave the vehicle its oil change and checked the antifreeze levels; given the harsh conditions of the weather they’d experienced lately.  He forgot the van wouldn’t start without a jump, and the supplies needed could be bought cheap at the Super Save store that was a few miles in town. Arthur flat up gave up and decided to hit one of the gas stations down the road and paid an unreasonable amount. It was really too cold for this sort of job, but Arthur reasoned it was better getting it done while he was in the mood.  The morning wouldn’t be much better, he insisted to Mystery.

Everything was routine.  Arthur had the camping lamp along with his spare flashlight on hand as he worked, the carry out tray of his heavy tool box sat on a towel, draped over the side of the engines compartment.  The streetlamps surrounding the motels open lot put out only enough light for customers to get around with, but not so much for technical work.  It took no more than an hour for Arthur to drain and replace the oil, he refilled the antifreeze levels.  Though Arthur dragged out the task and he shook hard enough that it was hazardous, the mechanic made certain to double-check all the wires and pipes connected around the engine.

Mystery stayed near the whole time, trembling alongside Arthur and keeping vigil.  Once Arthur’s motions began to fall into repetition, Mystery began pawing at Arthur’s pants leg.  This didn’t catch Arthur’s attention, until Mystery bit into the yellow cloth and jerked Arthur a few times.

The room was scarcely better than the other side of the door.  Arthur shoved the door closed with his back and wobbled.  He grabbed the spare prosthetic and the smaller, lighter, toolkit that was specific for his mechanical arm.  Mystery hopped onto the bed and curled down into a bundle of sheets and there the dog stayed, his nose poking out from a mound of multicolored patterns as his shape quivered.

“I warned ya, bud,” Arthur wheezed.  Moving from the crisp cold air to the higher temperature of the room brought on a new coughing fit in Arthur.  He shouldn’t have been out there either but it was done, no unplanned stalls.  

The toolbox and spare arm were placed on the bed, and Arthur sat near the heap of blankets that were mostly dog.  Arthur snagged his overnight bag, pulled it to his lap and he dug around the partially opened side until he found the none-drowsy cough meds. He took a quick swig of it and set the bottle aside, then looked at the parts of the arm he had; wires hung out, a cylinder in the joint was fitted into place but not screwed in all the way. Arthur sighed and opened up the tool box.

For an undetermined length of time Arthur worked on the prosthetic, sometimes making progress with its internal mechanics and other times Arthur would lay back and shut his eyes.  The reprieves were brief, and aside from untangling most of the wires and securing a side panel, no innovative progress was made.  Arthur couldn’t keep himself on task long enough.

__

Check out time was eleven am, unless they wanted to pay for another two rooms.  Their own schedule didn’t really coordinate with the motel’s staff and the early morning cleaning, but once they were on the go the urgency would subside, like it always did.  Besides, they weren’t planning on any major stops until they reached their destination, and Lewis was ‘lively’ set on taking the bulk of driving on himself. That phrase… really made no sense.

Lewis mentally sighed to himself in his pause. How hard was it to toss out a used cup? Vivi stopped for snacks all the time. Or, didn’t she do that anymore? Maybe she didn’t do that anymore. Lewis didn’t keep track of that sort of thing himself, but maybe he should from now on, it was kind of important!

One of the plastic bags saved from a snack run had a few additional bags crumpled up inside it, along with some trash.  So, they had the right idea, just didn’t follow through with it.  Lewis shook his head as he started cramming chip bags and crushed up Styrofoam cups, into the once empty bags.  For frying out loud, there was even a half-eaten candy bar under the seat.  French fries were understandable, they had a tendency to jump away and roll, but a candy bar?  And it was right next to his box too.  Luckily, it’d been so cold.  

Stacks of clean laundry waited on the front seat, while Lewis made room and took out the overstuffed trash bags.  By then the sun was on the rise, though the ghost didn’t need light to see what he was doing.  A few of his ember orbs did accompany him as he put away the loose items scattered around on the floor in the vans back, the flickering glow’s presence was more for a sense of atmosphere and comfort than anything.  One of Arthur’s white shirts was beyond salvaging, but Arthur liked to hang onto old clothing like it to use as hand towels. Lewis gave the article of clothing a last grimace before tucking the shirt into a side cuvee.  Last, the side of the van was a mess of blankets, shuffled around during unpacking; soon they’d be packing up all over again. Lewis folded the bedding and set it aside for now, he could then inspect the damage left behind in his… absence.  

There was no hurry to wake the others, and Lewis needed to come up with some sort of excuse.  After all, Vivi was going to be so sour with him.  Lewis cracked a thin grin, and a little puff of magenta mist trailed from his collar.  The night before Vivi had been so out of it, maybe she’d skip to forgiving him.  She needed rest more than anything, and hadn’t even stirred when Lewis left—

The back doors creaked open, and Lewis wrenched around expecting an outraged Vivi perched on the bumper.  His fears were unfounded, but he was no less stunned.  A pair of large eyes regarded him distantly, rimmed by red, Arthur’s clothing wrinkled and his hair seemed stiffer than usual.  The mechanic stared at the ghost, and the skull reflected the gaze; Lewis remained frozen where he had crouched, a backpack gripped tightly in his hands.  Neither spoke or uttered a sound, but Arthur did shake visibly and his breath flashed in a feathery fog.

This stalemate broke when Mystery clambered over the bumper. The dog stood tall and straight looking from Arthur to Lewis, then barked.  As if snatched from a trance Arthur turned his face away, he let his bag slump onto the new clear space of the floor.  Lewis dropped the bag he had been moving, something inside clanked as it hit.

“Mornin’,” Lewis rasped.  He gripped his fists a little tighter and stared at the bleached knuckles.  “Sssleep?“ Lewis voice drawled out the word, hissing.

Arthur snapped his head up from his bag. Already his right arm was bent around his shoulder and thumbed at the chute catch for the trigger.  “Huh?” he squeaked.

As Lewis pivoted, he made a vague gesture over his shoulder with his hand.  “Well? Sleep well?  I thought you were Vivi.  She asked me to wake her up, I didn’t.  Mystery.”

Morning.  Mystery flicked his ear and moved to the opposite side of the van, he began nosing around the ice box that had been relocated to the wall opposite of the bed clutter.

“Ah,” Arthur choked, and gurgled in his throat.  He bowed his head and clenched his jaw when the lock released, the all too familiar weightlessness sensation and vacancy overtook his left shoulder.  “Sounds like trouble.  You don’t mind, we’ll stay on the sidelines and root for you.”  Mystery snorted on his side of the van, the dog raised his snout back and gave Arthur a little grin.  Arthur shivered, but gave Mystery a small wink.

“She‘ll make me answer for this atrocity,” Lewis hummed. He hung his arms over the bench seat and stared at the mirror tilted away from him.  Lewis raised one arm and poked the mirror, turning it so the reflective surface faced him.  “What time is it?”

The question made Arthur stiffen, and stop from working the unfinished prosthetic free of his overnight bag.  Arthur meant to reach for his pocket, but he was fixated on the back of Lewis dress suit - his death suit - and the dark contrast blotting. The color was suddenly vibrant red, apple red and shimmering, small embers bristled and popped across the cuffs of his sleeve. The fuchsia flames rolled down his collar, sputtered at his shoulders, while little wisps detached and extinguished in rosy vapors. It was akin to witnessing independent combustion, barred from a visible source. Where the flames surged, black patterns remained behind, but the stark gloom bleached out swiftly, becoming brighter and whiter than the skull. Soon purples and magenta overtook the ghastly suit, bleeding out from the mottled patches left by the spirit flame.

Never had Arthur paid much attention to Lewis altering from his skeletal form to his living appearance.  No… Lewis never risked transitioning when Arthur was around.

“Want me to wake her up?”  Arthur chirped, as he backed away.  Mystery stopped nosing around the ice box and tracked Arthur’s movement with his eyes, the dog’s ears aimed toward the Arthur outside, his hurried feet falls crunching on ice.  “I’ll go knock!”

By the time Lewis had spun around Arthur was gone, the fading rapping beyond slithered through the gaping doors of the van. Lewis followed Mystery’s gaze, and set his attention on the neglected metal limb Arthur had left lying beside its unfinished relative.  Mystery backed away, a bag of Doritos clamped in his jaws; the hound bristled the fur on his shoulder blades and relocated himself to the corner furthest from the glistening metal arm.  Mildly perturbed, Lewis shuffled forward on his knees and lowered himself a little at a time, one arm reaching out toward the curled metal knuckles lay inert.

“LEWIS!!”

That howl sent Mystery diving into the front seat with a strangled yelp.  Lewis jerked up and slammed his skull into the ceiling of the van.  Mystery poked his head over the bench seat, in time to view Lewis slamming his fists down over his knees.  There was no point in getting upset over it, Lewis tried to play it down and pretend he hadn’t been worked up that morning at all.

__

Five hours on the road and Vivi hadn’t shaken her irritation.  Mostly because she was working on a report she could have started hours ago, but mostly she didn’t want to admit that she did enjoy procrastination when technically it wasn’t her fault.  She held Lewis to blame when he had been looking out for her, but it failed to wane her headstrong desire for a couple pages of progress.  At any rate, Arthur hadn’t helped her mood.  He had insisted on packing nearly all the supplies from both rooms, while she and Mystery ran the keys down to the front office.  The van even got its jump with the freshly charged battery, the frosted vehcile sat engine rumbling impatiently by the time the two had returned.  Vivi could have just kicked herself, Arthur had no business doing all this heavy work while Lewis moped around inside.  

It wouldn’t be so bad if she was actually motivated to write the report.  Blocks of text consisted each gluttonous paragraph on every page, but most of it was standard BS.  What was the point of this report anyway?  The professors always liked to talk about new age documentation of old hauntings, but unless your team was prominent in the paranormal investigation field, you didn’t get any sort of recognition.  Though, that wasn’t why the Mystery Skulls became paranormal investigators - they were in it for the pursuit of knowledge, hard cold facts, and adventure.  That’s the impression Vivi had back when… when she and Arthur where ready to restart everything.  She didn’t remember it like she knew she should, but she had the sense of it, the heart of their adventures.  Back when there were no schedules or deadlines, no standardized reports; just an open road ahead and the freedom to seek out what fate guided them toward. Them – the whole team.  Together.

Vivi didn’t realize she was staring at the back of Lewis’ head until Lewis glanced over the headrest and caught her gaze.  He winced and took a double take of Vivi, before Lewis moved his gaze back to the road.  Vivi felt her face heat up and turned her eyes down to the laptop sitting parallel wither elbows.

“You need to stop?” Lewis warbled.  He was definitely fretful or something.  “I mean, it’s been awhile.  You hungry?”  They hadn’t had any real stops since that morning, when Arthur had dropped off some old oil at a service station.  Any other stops were quick and usually for the basics.  Beyond the windshield the clouds thickened and darkened, the crest of golden thread shimmered as the sun made its slow retreat into a distant mist.

An audible gurgle came from Vivi, or more accurately Vivi’s stomach.  Mystery, lying right between her and Arthur, perked his ears up.  Lewis sniggered and looked back.  “Is that a yes?”

Vivi was already lying down, and dropped her face into her folded arms resting by the laptops keyboard.  “Yes,” she groaned.  The van began to decelerate and take a turn, she didn’t care where Lewis was planning to stop.  “I’m over it, Lew.  You were right, I needed to sleep.  Like, for real.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Lewis quipped.  “You’ve been stressed and you can’t hide it from me.”

Arthur made a little sound in his sleep.  He was supposed to be helping Vivi with some of the EVPs they recorded, but the neatly folded blankets were too much to resist. The way one of Arthur’s eyes was open a crack and glistening in the light of the computer screen, it didn’t look right to Vivi, but it didn’t seem to bother Arthur.  Vivi reached across Mystery’s back and pulled the edge of his sleeve a little more over Arthur’s exposed shoulder.

“Hmm.  You need to mind your own business,” Vivi muttered.  “You sure you’re okay driving this much?”  The van shudder and the wheels rattled as the vehicle passed over a dip in the road.

“If I need a break I’ll say,” Lewis assured.  “But I tell you it’ll be no different than… before. Uh, I hope this place is okay.”

Vivi saved the document she was already compiling and ejected the USB.  “As long as we can nab something substantial,” she said.  Vivi sat up on her knees and straightened out her skirt.  She touched Arthur on the shoulder and gave him a little shake.  “Hey. Artie?  Blink your eye, you’re creeping me out.”  Mystery scooted closer to Arthur and nuzzled the side of the blanket Arthur was curled around.  “Take it easy, Mystery.  Your nose is cold.”

“N-no, don’t –” Arthur gurgled.  He groped around for Mystery and tugged the dog away. “What?  Where?”  Arthur shoved himself upright and gawked at the dark walls surrounding him.  “What happened?”

“Easy, Art,” Vivi cooed.  She unfolded the rumpled blanked Arthur had been crushing and pulled it up around Arthur’s shoulders, and the loyal hound that lay by him. “We’re taking a break.  I know you drank your weight in coffee at that last stop.”

“Don’t mention that,” Arthur muttered.  Vivi held the blanket around him, as Arthur reached a hand up and rubbed at his eyes.  “Yeah, I’m on board.  Can get out and stretch, fresh air.”  Arthur kind of rolled out of his cocoon towards the back of the van.  “Where’s my bag?”

“Hold on, we’re still moving,” Vivi called.  She plucked up the camping lamp as the computer screen faded, and flipped on the portable light.  “Sit tight or you’re gonna fall.  Is your arm malfunctioning again?”

“No-no,” Arthur mumbled, and sighed.  “Hey bud.”  Arthur sat himself by the backdoors, and Mystery sauntered over and crouched beside him.

The gas station was a sauna oasis for the winter traveler.  Small pods of visitors dressed in large coats braved the short run between the couple of scattered vehicles parked near the stores front, while the engines were left to idle grudgingly; thick clouds spewing from the mud caked mufflers.  The van was docked at the gas pump furthest from the typical visitors, its headlamps lights and engine cut.  Barely a second and the back doors are flung open.

“—let it happen again.”  Vivi tried to stifle her giggle as she disembarked from the back doors. She zipped up the front of her coat and gave the parking lot a brief study – the icy asphalt, a family entering the store one by one.  On the nearby overpass cars zoomed, bare trees grew in a patch of wood chip layered earth, tended by the city ordinance.  She returned to the van and took Arthur by the hand, before his shoe had the chance to slip on a patch of salt.  “We just barely stopped.”

Mystery ambled at the edge of the bumper, lifting one front foot then the other as he inspected his deplorable boots. Really?  The hound pawed one boot at the other, gave that up, sat down and gave Vivi a dubious frown.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Vivi said.  Like some dastardly mastermind Vivi flung one end of her scarf around her shoulders and straightened up, fists at her hips. Arthur slipped his arm out of her arm loop.  “You’ll thank me later.”

We’ll see about that.  Mystery turned his snout up and spun around to face his back to her.

Lewis rounded the side of the van, the empty cups from the long ago stop carried in one hand.  “It’s not the twenty-one impossible tasks,” he grumbled, and dumped the cups into the trash canister between the gas pumps.  “Just grab something on your way out.  Easy.”

“Holy buns, you’re such a mother duck.”  Vivi stood by the back doors, as Lewis climbed back aboard.  “Next time we’ll remember.  Right Art?”

Arthur waited until Lewis was out of his way, before he leaned over and took the bag that was offered to him.  He and Mystery met eyes, and the dog soundlessly released the bag that Arthur had retrieved.  “Yeah,” Arthur stammered.  “Wait, what?”

“Tck, that’s what you always say,” Lewis retorts.  He paused in collecting up the last of the snack wrappers Vivi had decimated and looked back, but neither had answered. Lewis glides and skided out from the vans back and glanced around, he spied the group already across the road and at the glass doors of the shop; Vivi held the door open for Mystery and she followed Arthur inside. Lewis voice crackled.  He dumped the last of the wrappers and returned to the vans interior.

It was something Vivi would tease him about, in response to Lewis persistent nagging.  Not the one detail she currently ruled (how did she ever find THAT out?), but when before.  During their investigations they all had elected roles to pull through, before they tackled the case head on as a group.  Vivi and Mystery scoped the place, Arthur checked the mechanical equipment, and Lewis… he liked to pick up after them when he could.  The phrase when she said it, hit Lewis with a slice of Déjà vu.  On the job when Vivi caught him at the organizing gig she’d banter with him, but Lewis only needed to remind her that he worked professionally for a restaurant. Cleanliness and organization was a staple of Pepper Paradiso, and he brought those sort of job skills with him to the Mystery Skulls.  They just couldn’t be shaken from his lifelong occupation.

Lifelong.

Lewis fitted the sunglasses over his eyes and leaned back on the side of the van, his hands lowered to fumble at his ascot.  It didn’t come undone, it didn’t need to be tied, the same way his tie didn’t need physical adjustment.  It just was.  He fixed his collar and smoothed his thumbs under the lapels of his shirt vest.  He untied the ascot and loosened it a bit, then redid the knot.  It stuck to his mind, and he couldn’t get the knot just right.  Lewis gave up and slammed his hands back into the vans side, igniting a harp crack of sound that echoed across the open road.  He stood, staring down at the ground and the ring of water that had formed around his shoes, encircled by the murky gray slush of days old ice.  A sharp prick at his ethereal senses compelled Lewis to snap his head up, and Arthur stepping behind the gas pumps across from him, staggered to a halt.

“Whoa!” Arthur sputtered, arm raised.  “I’m just getting the battery.”

Lewis casually reached his hands up and locked his fingers behind his neck, as he watched Arthur continue on.  “So get it.  I’m not in the way.”  Lewis turned his attention to the parking lot and scanned.  Vivi hadn’t appeared yet, nor had Mystery.  None of the customers took much interest in the large van with the big scrape in its side.  “She’s gonna chew your ear off, though.”

Arthur dithered at the bumper.  He had what was once a vibrant orange towel slung over his shoulder, and set his bag down somewhere inside.  “Too bad.  Y’know, this is kind of our profession.  You could have mentioned something….” He hacked hard into his shoulder as he dragged himself over the floor of the van.  “This has been the bummer of a fiasco.”  He edged back on his knees, and heaved the battery over the floor a few inches; Arthur did this motion several times until he could set his feet outside and lift the battery.

“I was kind of preoccupied.  Remember?” Lewis hissed.  A faint mist was rising off of Lewis shoulders and hair.  Lewis swiped it away and stepped aside, but the vapor slipped off him in delicate sheets.  Probably no one would see or care, but Lewis didn’t care for it.  “You could’ve … you know what?  Never mind, I don’t wanna get in the middle of this.  Just leave it for now.”  Speaking of Vivi, she was probably scoring a whole arsenal of drink flavors she’d never seen before.  Different towns carried all kinds of new and weird name brands, and Vivi was a sport for trying anything that might boost her heartrate above the norm (or recommended).  “The battery.  Leave it, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“No—” Arthur quickly dropped his hand to the handle of the battery and yanked it out of the van.  “I’ll find some kind of leverage, but I’m gettin’ this down now.”  Lewis took a step back as Arthur swayed away and made the long trip to the front.  Lewis glowered the way Arthur went, but was effectively ignored.

While Arthur worked disconnecting the old battery and hooking up the new one, Lewis preoccupied himself with dumping the accumulated water from the ice box.  Lewis trekked to the nearest drain at the stores front curb and dumped the water, the whole time he kept watch on Arthur as the other fiddled with the engine.  If Lewis tried lifting it in the handy towel like a hammock, it would most likely rip through.  One of the few mechanical tidbits Lewis knew was that metal plus battery equaled bad, but Arthur was supposed to wait and let Vivi help him.  If Arthur wanted to have one of his silent broody tantrums, Lewis wanted a step back from that.  Maybe several steps back, for good measure.

Getting away helped, the frail fog was no longer so prominent hovering on Lewis now.  He stood with one foot on the coolers edge, his chin set in the curl of his fingers as he pondered.  Was there a way to heat the rest of the van and omit a certain space?  He’d never actually tried.  Maybe it would be best if he saved that test for later, knowing his lucky he would wind up boiling something.  Vivi might be ecstatic, for like two seconds.  Lewis smirked.

“YOU DARN ANIMAL!”

The unfamiliar and harsh voice sent Lewis recoiling.  He looked up in time to see a white flash dart by, and was that a hotdog clamped in his teeth?  There he went, that fast moving blur was gone in the blink of an eye, probably beyond the stratosphere by now.  Lewis only stood there and watched on, before whirling back to the voice that snarled his way.

“YOU!”  A man shorter than him (not saying much), in a big padded gray coat with a furry rimmed collar, huffed and snorted as he charged up to what must’ve been a clueless spectator.  “Do YOU know who owns that CREATURE?”

“Um,” Lewis voice sounded something like a moan.  He felt the sunglasses slip down his face, and raised a hand to keep them fixed firmly in place.  “No.  Nope. I have no idea.  Did he have a collar?”  He tried to grin under his hand and look helpful.  The man brushed by, more like shoved past Lewis as he took off in another sprint.

“That was my lunch you mongrel!  I’ll call the pound!”

Lewis snatched up the ice box and hurried across the road.  Why did Vivi let him pull these stunts?

The remaining ice chunks clunked around in the cooler as Lewis jogged toward the van.  Arthur wasn’t in sight, though the hood of the van was still up and the used battery was left on the towel.

“Isn’t it bad to—” Lewis stopped mid step when he skipped past the vans door.  This wasn’t good.  If anything, Lewis was immediately conflicted, both annoyed and… and… it was something he’d thought was lost in him.  “You’re hurt.”

Arthur had his eyes locked on Lewis.  The blanket Vivi had bundled Arthur in when they stopped was coiled around his middle tightly, Arthur’s lone arm was bent and his hand pressed behind his shoulder.  Arthur took a quick breath, “It’s not that bad.”

Lewis set the cooler aside and pulled himself up into the van.  He reached out to take Arthur by the collar of his orange vest, but the moment his hand was an inch from Arthur’s body, Arthur twisted away and propelled himself backwards, eyes white, shrieking:

“Don’t!  NO! Don’t touch me!  NOT AGAIN!”  Arthur scrambles into the back of the seat, he swung something up in his fist from the corner of the van; Arthur’s not sure what, but it’s smooth and cool to the touch. “Y-you WON’T!”

“Calm down, I just want a quick look,” Lewis rasped. He needed to keep his distance, Arthur was practically drowning in revulsion.  “How bad is it?”

“Gaw… damnit!  I told you!”  Arthur sees the thing he’s holding is a simple lighter, but he keeps it raised like a protective totem.  “It was exactly the same!  I got out and… nothing felt right!  Just… you CAN’T TOUCH ME!”

It clicked, almost painfully.  If Lewis had a genuine concept for pain, this might be close.  He moved from addressing Arthur, and shuffled closer to the cuvee in the vans side where he stuffed the shirt into. “You never say anything,” he rumbled.

“Huh?” Arthur spat.  “What am I supposed to say?  I told you already!  You just… won’t listen!”

“How am I supposed to hear anything when won’t speak up for yourself?” Lewis snapped, voice crackling like static.  The radio coughed with a brief snippet of chatter, the windshield wipers squeaked across the foggy glass of the van only to halt mid swipe. Lewis gave up and hit the side of the van, he pushed himself back and turned to Arthur.  “You can’t ignore this.”

“Keep your distance, Pepper,” Arthur hissed.  He kept his hand and the lighter aimed at Lewis, his heels dug at the floor of the van though he could go no farther.  Arthur shifted himself and caught the portion of his left arm over the seat, awkwardly he pulled himself up from off the floor. His eyes never left the ghost. “I’ve got this covered.  I don’t need any more help, least of all from you! You’ve— you should….”  The lighter thumps on the floor, and Arthur pressed his palm over his eyes.  A fit of coughing clawed at Arthur’s lungs, but he managed to bury it down and get some air in.  “Don’t touch me, okay?  You can handle that?”

Lewis glanced down at the lighter, it had fallen beside one of the crumpled and rolled pieces of rice paper that always seemed to litter the van lately.  “Fine.” Arthur winced at the crack in Lewis’ voice.  “Deal with this on your own.  I get that there are things you don’t want her to know, but don’t make me a part of it. I. Am. Out!”

“Stop pretending, Lewis.”  Arthur took a shuddering breath but wouldn’t look up. “She knows, I told her already. That.… For a while, I wanted to pretend I wasn’t the one that did it.  But, what else was I gonna say?  It wasn’t her fault, and I couldn’t… someone has to take the blame.”

Lewis was about to retort, when a familiar series of barks approached the van.  “I have to finish this,” Arthur choked out.  Before Lewis turned back Arthur had already flopped over the front seat, and exited the van through the driver side.  The door cracked in its frame, and Lewis was left to sink back onto his knees.

“Did I hear yelling?” Vivi prompted.  She appeared at the vans back, large overburdened bags that looked about ready to burst hung from her hands.  “I saw Art did that thing I told him not too.”  She frowned behind her spectacles.  Beside her Mystery stuck his head up and oofed, the traces of yellow and red stained his muzzle.

“I warned him,” Lewis began.  “Said he needed the distraction, and that you did enough already. Or something, I’m probably wrong.” Lewis didn’t bother to try cracking a grin, hopefully nothing would show.  Once they were on the road and preoccupied with anything other than this, it would calm down.  It would get better.  Thankfully, Vivi couldn’t see his eyes.

The hood of the van rocketed down, and the entire frame of the vehicle shifted.  Lewis leaned forward and pulled the merchandise further into the vehicle and freed some space for Vivi to climb in.

“Lewis?” Vivi whispered.  She reached out and touched the ghosts shoulder.  “Is something wrong?  Something I need to know?”  She shifted her eyes Arthur’s way as he scuffled around outside, none the wiser.

“He needs space,” Lewis allowed.  Mystery was there beside Vivi, leaning forward with his ears aimed at him.  “He’s… got something he’s working through.”  Vivi kept her eyes fixed on Lewis, focused, and the stare began to unnerve Lewis. After a long minute, Vivi exploded:

“Art, I need to see you!”  Vivi winced when Lewis burst into a dozen or more embers, each orb faded through the walls around her.  She scowled and looked Mystery’s way.  “Men.”

Mystery drew the edges of his lips back and puffed his chest out.  Excuse me?

“What?  What?” Arthur grumbled, as he climbed into the van on the driver side.   “Where’s—?” He shut his mouth when Vivi stole his hand off the seat.

“Ninety-nine,” Vivi chirped.  She held Arthur’s arm up by his wristband as she hopped over the seat. As she hunched forward and dug into the driver side pocket, she kept Arthur’s arm raised.  Arthur only rolled his eyes and sniffled, but didn’t look directly at Vivi.  The sky was darkening faster now, she wouldn’t see his eyes too clearly.  Vivi took the work rag with the ninety-nine gel gunk, and cleaned his hand off.  “You should’ve waited inside with me where it was warm,” Vivi chided, as she scrubbed his palm with the rag.  “You need to make those phone calls too.”  She dropped Arthur’s hand.  The fresh aroma of synthetic berries tickled Mystery’s nose, and the dog sneezed. Vivi fished around in her scarf then her coat pockets, finally she found the phone.

“Vi, c’mon.”  Arthur pursed his lips together when Vivi shoved her hand over his mouth. “Mmmf nuff rrrr.”

“Shush,” Vivi said, and smirked.  She swiped her thumb over the phone’s face and hit the speed dial.  They waited. “Hey?  Hello?  Uncle Lance?” She perked.  As she listened Vivi brushed her brow over her shoulder and adjusted the pink tinted glasses. “No, I swear.  Mm-hmm.  Good, how’re things?”  Vivi’s face fell.  “Hah, heh… ye… he’s uh, right here.”  She shoved the phone into Arthur’s face.  “Talk to him.”

Arthur pulled his face from Vivi’s hand and glared at the phone.  He raised it to his ear slowly, his eyes squinting.  “Yeah?  Er, no! I did!  Mm.”  Arthur frowned and listened, as if caught in a lie.  “I was.  S-sorry I didn’t call sooner.  Everything’s fine, I—” He stopped, every so often a soft affirmative sound hummed in his throat.  Eventually, Arthur relaxed and leaned back into the driver’s seat.  “We’re supposed to be driving now.  No, I’m not driving.  Of course I would.  Yeah – yeah, I know you would.  No, they didn’t.  Mystery says hi.”

Mystery yapped.  Yes, he did.  That was a given.

“Listen, Lance?  Can I talk to Galy for a bit?  Is he?  Tell him I wanna talk.”  Arthur sat up a bit and waited.  “Galaham? Hey lil dude, what’s up? Really?  What have I told you about bein’ in the shop?”

During the phone call Vivi nabs the battery and towel and returns to the vans back, where she finds Lewis packing away the snacks. “Are forty-four flavors of pop really necessary?” Lewis inquired, as he held up a bottle with dark contents.  Something purple.

“No,” Vivi piped.  “They were essential.  After this we’re not going to be stopping forever, anyway.  Ooh, found the lighter.”

Lewis scooted the ice box back and carried one of the grocery bags with him.  He was going to cram as many drinks into the cooler as he could.  “And see, the point in keeping these bags is to fill them with crap you’re gonna throw out later.”

“How long do I have on the phone?” Arthur called back. Vivi barely glimpsed up at Arthur as she waved him off with a hand, and lipped ‘keep talking.’  “You sure?” Arthur pressed.  He rubbed at his eyes with his wrist band, and returned the phone to his ear.  “I’m still here Galy.”  

“Wild guess,” Vivi said, as she plucked up a bag of chips.  “No one fueled the van?”

Arthur coughed and curled up into a tighter ball. Mystery plopped onto the seats back and climbed down onto Arthur’s lap.  “Oof!  You wanna say hey, Misty?”  Arthur held the phone up to Mystery’s snout.

“Well, I’m kinda flammable,” Lewis grumbled.  

It was a winter day, the sun falling by noon time, a day of travel successfully spent.  Cloud cover huddled thick across the mauve stained sky, and the temperature began its steady plummet.  The lights of the service station flashed with bright illumination, cutting through wisps of white flurries that spiraled downward.  One by one the streetlamps along the road began to glimmer with bitter assurance, and spread a shimmering veil across choppy ice sheets layered over the roads.

Soft ticks came from the pump as the ounces counted up to gallons and the price gauge flashed from five to twenty relatively fast.  White mist curled around Vivi’s nose as she moved to stand beside Lewis by the van.

“That’s a lousy excuse,” she said, after a pause. Vivi lowered her face behind her scarf and breathed in the warmth.  “You’ve helped before.”

Lewis frowned and looked away.  “I haven’t been paid yet.”

Vivi snickered.  “They pay.”

“Hmm?”

“They pay for the gas.  The college,” Vivi stated.  She opened her mouth about to go on, but stopped herself and just settled back against the frigid metal.  It was kind of too cold, even for her.  The faint grind of ice under tires crawled by as another car departed the service station; inside the chilled canister Arthur chattered on in his conversations.  Vivi scooted a little closer to Lewis side and leaned into him.  “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Lewis drummed his fingers on the metal wall at his back.  On the ground near Vivi’s shoes was a large sheen of water, its edges tinged with ice crystals.  “Not now, it’s not a good time,” he answered.  “Maybe… you can ask Arthur about it.  He should probably tell you.”  He jumped back when Vivi hammered her fist on the side of the van.

“Art!”  Vivi called, and beat on the vans wall some more, for good measure.  “Can you hear us in there?”  She continued pounding and stopped.  In wasn’t long before someone was bagnging back.

“I’m not listening!” Arthur screamed.  “And I don’t care!”

Vivi turned to Lewis and gave an over exaggerated shrug. The pump chimed and the handle clicked. Vivi took the nozzle and returned it to the pumps hoister.  “What do you two talk about?  When I’m not around?”  She screwed the cap in place and turned to Lewis.  Vivi crossed her arms and glared up at him, even when the pump began buzzing about the receipt.

“We talk,” Lewis offered.  “About things.  Y’know, it’s… it’s complicated.”  The headlamps on the vans back blazed red and dimmed.  “I’m not ready… to bring it out.”

Vivi took a deep breath and exhaled, thick white mist swirled at her cheeks.  “Are you not ready, really?” she posed.  “Or, do you think I’m not ready to listen?”  Vivi inched forward, her arms uncoiling from her chest and she reached them up as if to carefully corral an insect.  Like lightening she slapped her hands at Lewis chest, the shock of it sent Lewis skipping backwards on his heels.  “You didn’t mean to do this?”  Lewis gawped, drawing his hands up slowly and began patting at his chest, though the artifact he sought was currently cradled by a bemused Vivi.

“I— Uh, my focus.  It’s,” Lewis stammered.  Calm, stay calm.  It was something he did once before, Lewis hadn’t intended… it just happened!  He straightened out his shirt vest and peered at Vivi over his sunglasses.  “We should get going.  It… That would help.”  He accepted the gilded heart locket as Vivi pushed it into at him.  He cupped the heirloom in his hands and held it to his chest.

Upon boarding the van Vivi said nothing, she only wrapped her arms around Arthur’s side and heaved him into the backseat. “Viv-VI! ��WHY?  ARGH! Mystery!”  When Arthur was relocated so was Mystery, he leapt over the seat and nearly directly on top of Arthur.

Lewis slammed his door shut and gave the key it the ignition a sharp twist, the engine thrummed with renewed vigor.  The van found its way toward the parking lots exit and made its way down the road, intermingling with fellow traffic and travelers along the way.  “Do I have a direction?” Lewis ventured, as he passed one of the highway ramps.

“I have the route all mapped out,” Vivi said, as she climbed over the seat.  She dug around in her scarf and pulled out the crumpled map, one side of the maps fold was traced by a thick blue line.  “It should save us between five to three hours, depending how lost we get.”

“Vivi’s talking to Mystery,” Arthur mumbled.  The phone was held to his ear by his good shoulder, while his fingers worked to unlace one of Mystery’s booties.  “What d’y’mean?  I have been eating.”  Arthur snagged a plastic triangle and tossed it over the seat; it was one of the package sandwiches Vivi bought.

“Lost?” Lewis echoed.  Beside him, Vivi was halfheartedly tearing into the sandwich container.  “Since when is lost an acceptable destination?”  He glanced over the side of the seat at Arthur in the back, buried under a blanket somewhere with Mystery.

“I don’t think we have much to worry about this time,” Vivi replied.  She opened up the glove compartment and fished through an accumulation of papers, she pulled out a penlight.  “You’ll want to take Northwest, 59.”  She clicked off the penlight and set it and the map between her and Lewis on the seat, then returned to the packaged sandwich.

There was an uneasy calm, as Lewis navigated the van onto the main interstate that lead out of the city.  The listless conversations Arthur engaged in came to an end, and Arthur passed the phone back over the seat to Vivi, she mumbled a thank you through the sandwich but little more was said after that.

Half the sandwich was eaten, then Vivi turned around in her seat and offered the other portion to Arthur.  Of course he didn’t want it, but Vivi wouldn’t relent until Arthur had accepted the food and took slow little bites.  It wasn’t long before Mystery snagged one of the sodas from a shopping bag and passed it to Vivi, who still hovered over the bench seat monitoring Arthur’s progress.  Vivi opened the soda and nudged the bottom against Arthur’s forehead, until Arthur gave up and began sipping the cool beverage.  Every other swig he would stop and sit, contemplative and silent. Mystery let him have these pauses, but always the dog would nose at his companion through the blanket and nip at the not so empty pop bottle.  It took a good amount of time but the soda eventually vanished, along with a bag of chips.  The undercarriage of the van wheezed as slush particles swept beneath the pipes.  Arthur snuggled down into his blanket with Mystery clutched to him like a lifeline.  Somehow, this was comfortable.

“You hanging in there, Art?” Vivi cooed.  She hadn’t adjusted herself in her seat the entire time she kept visual of Arthur.  By now her own eyes were heavy, and she could barely see the lump of figures curled up beneath the edge of the seat.

“Hmm.”  Arthur said. “No.”  He pressed his face in the dog’s soft fur and focused on the shallow breath of Mystery.  If he pretended to sleep then Vivi wouldn’t be able to resist, and she would have to rest as well.  Arthur knew he wasn’t ready to face Lewis, yet.