#thinking he’s so dark and mysterious and arty when he’s fucking not like that at all

[peachyykira]

Such a shame I hadn’t seen The Crow before the asshole. I love it, but I can’t disassociate him from it and every time I see it, all I can think of is how fucked up he made me.

Happens sometimes with Candyman too but it matters less cuz I don’t actively wanna watch that one hardly ever.

But The Crow… and the game The Darkness… him. I hate him.

[lale-txt]

🍆 online dating headcanons: supernovas

[part 1 w/ Whitebeard pirates]

a/n: i have too much fun roasting your favorite little crime men, so here's part 2! and don't worry, there probably will be a sequel to that, too...

Luffy

this boy has the dating profile of a 67 year old man

it's mostly photos of cool bugs

or him holding the cool bugs, covering half of his face with them (some look a bit arty by accident because they're so blurry bc this boi is fast af when he is excited for something)

i feel like he is someone who overuses emojis A LOT and out of context too. they almost sound cryptic

🦔🧦🤼🔑👁‍🗨🟧🏴‍☠️

WHAT DOES IT MEAN BRO

you'll never know

he doesn't know either

you can keep the conversation going by mentioning that you're a foodie and like some good meat

wink wink

but don't complain if he takes you out to an all you can eat restaurant and the thing getting eaten is everything except you

Zoro

your typical fitness bro

all of his pictures are just mirror selfies from the gym wtf

granted, he knows his good angles

start the conversation maybe with a good recipe for a protein shake? idk i have not once in my life matched a fitness bro so don't take my advice maybe

if you start texting, expect a lot of thirst traps straight from the gym, lots of sweat, a shirt pulled up a bit to show off his 16-pack or whatever (if he even bothers to wear a shirt), a photo from behind to show that his back is very beefy too

but don't be fooled because he will sent them to his whole contact list and his fitness account with 500k followers

you just know he has "no PAINZ no GAINZ 💯" in his bio

so take that to your heart and text him anyway even though it's a pain in the ass, it will be rewarding in the end

if you're looking for a fuck buddy this is your mans

Law

his photos just scream dark academia. they also scream "i'm your thoughtful mystery lover with the sexy finger tattoos" and also "please heal my broken heart while we listen to Evanescence together"

but in reality he is just very tired and people mistake it for a lifestyle

Bepo takes all of his photos and edits them, he has a really good eye

one photo is the doctor posing naked in front of a chimney fire on a bear rug (it's not a regular bear rug but Bepo who is very good at photoshop)

it wasn't even Law himself who created his online dating profile but Penguin & Shachi because they agreed their captain needed a bit of support in those things, Law was just too tired to object (and maybe they were right after all...)

he's a busy man and you need a really good hook up line to make him text you back

"i think you've stolen my heart, give it back" isn't one of them

talk to him about gross medical things maybe or how much you hate bread (even if it's a lie)

just don't try sexting with him because you will get a lot of anatomical terms and a very long paragraph that sounded sexy in his head but reads like an user manual

overall a very nice match if you're into emo boys with tragic backstories that just have written "fix me if you can" all over their face

Kid

ahh yes, the little kinky man

of course you can find him on the naughty online dating sites where you can look for your next fuck buddy, pet or a sugar mommy/daddy/questionable parental figure

his photos are thirst traps of course, half of them mirror selfies with flash on

doesn't care about censoring, his junk is OUT, why hide it

will text you "wyd?" and "send nudes" within two seconds

foolish of you to think that one nude with a tiddie out would satisfy him, this little racoon is greedy af

just know that at one point he accidentally created a group chat with all of his matches, believing he would message them "i'm so hard for u" individually

he never recovered from that

Kid gets matched by mean lesbians A LOT (no wonder, he looks like one too)

it happens so often that he pulls Killer to the side, asking with a stern look on his face: "be honest. is there anything about my appearance that screams 'i want to get pegged' because apparently people feel that way about me"

Killer thinks a little bit too long and almost gets thrown overboard

Killer

the mysterious masked man

usually one would barely get matches without their face revealed, but it's probably his luscious long blonde hair and all the shirtless photos that give him countless matches anyway

who doesn't love a faceless ideal fantasy to project their deepest desires on, isn't that what dating apps were created in the first place

just never jokingly ask what's underneath the mask or else you'll get unmatched immediately

maybe ask him about his hair routine or favorite pasta place in town instead

or his favorite youtube channel Pasta Grannies

he would be the best to have long, meaningful conversations with on the dating apps

until he deletes his profile out of the blue, leaving you wondering forever 'what if...'

that is until you match him again

and again

yes again

he's a serial matcher

[eponymous-rose]

Return of the Revenge of the Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E108-109 (September 15, 2020)

It’s been six months since the last Speech Machine Upper Luminosity (is that right?), so let’s jump right back in like nothing ever happened!

Tonight’s guests are Laura Bailey and Matt Mercer!

Announcements: Talks will now be biweekly, discussing two episodes at a time! Unfortunately, this means fan question submissions aren’t doable yet, since they’ll often be filming Talks for episodes that haven’t aired yet; questions will come from crew, but fanart and cosplay from earlier episodes will still get awards. Dani Carr’s new official title in the company is Lorekeeper!

Episodes 108-109

Brian asks Matt about the tug-of-war with the Moonweaver’s influence: “how much of that did the Traveler and Jester’s interactions influence him not going back to the Feywild?” Matt: “Okay, well, the Moonweaver isn’t necessarily happy about taking on the images and icons and co-opting elements of her worship, but also isn’t a vindictive deity necessarily.” She has a similar fey history to Artagan, “so I knew this encounter, there would be a punishment involved, at the very least to take Artagan down a few pegs.” He wasn’t going to be actually banished; the Moonweaver just wanted to “scare the shit out of him: You think you’re a trickery god? Welcome to the original trickery god, bitch.” There was a possibility of him just vanishing for a while, if there was no sign of humility; but based on their interactions, it was just enough to show the planetar that maybe this isn’t the same “troll of an Archfey” that the Moonweaver had known. “Maybe this is enough of a lesson.”

Laura thought Artagan was going to be “gone-gone, and Jester was going to be left alone”. She thought there was going to be a Feywild rescue, and Jester would have to try to find a new deity.

Laura’s wi-fi conks out. So does mine. Ah, 2020.

Jester would probably have followed the Moonweaver in an attempt to make amends. Laura mentions that every time she sat down to prep something for Traveler-Con, she realized Jester wouldn’t sit still long enough to plan it.

Laura: “If that cult hadn’t been there and she hadn’t seen what a false god could do to people, I don’t think she would have come to the realization that what her and the Traveler were doing was detrimental: oh, we’re fucking over people’s lives, hardcore.” If Artagan hadn’t been on board with picking a different deity, Jester would have stepped down at Traveler Con and she would have exposed the lie.

Matt’s “super happy” because he was purposely making sure he didn’t know what was going to happen at Traveler Con. “Okay, everything around it’s going to be interesting and fleshed out, but as to the actual convention, I have no idea what’s going to happen.” He wanted to balance a complete train wreck with character beats and mini-arcs, and he was satisfied with how that worked out.

Brian asks if Jester ever considered walking away from the Traveler. Laura: “Yeah. It could have progressed to that point. Jester always gave him the benefit of the doubt, and loves him with her entire heart, so if he would have not seen that what they were doing was not acceptable, in his own way, then Jester would have probably walked away. I don’t know if she would have walked away from him, but it would have been a big issue for her. I have no idea what that would have meant for her... my entire character arc.”

How does Jester feel about the Traveler now? “She loves him, but at the same time, she doesn’t adore him without boundaries. She sees a little bit more of who he is, and the worshiping aspect isn’t there anymore. She sees him more like another friend. That’s a complicated relationship for a cleric to have.”

Matt talks about what a fan he is of his players. “I’ve just been enjoying the hell out of this.”

Has Artagan learned his lesson? He’s been living for a long time, and old habits are hard to break. Matt points out that Artagan “is free in a place that he doesn’t have complete domain over, and he’s been humbled a few times. I think he’s definitely learned a series of lessons to some degree. We’ll see how far it sticks and where their relationship goes.”

Brian asks Laura how it’s been to have the spotlight on Jester for a long time. Laura: “It was nerve-wracking. I feel very relieved that it’s on to something else now, but it was so much fun, too. I feel like I kept getting so emotional as her through all this. Having to come to terms with all the things she was going through was crazy. But it felt good.”

Cosplay of the Week: An amazing Yasha by @shiieldmaiden on Twitter, photo by @asheneyed.

Matt: “I took a bath for this.”

Brian notes that Jester found herself caught between her god and the M9. Who would she have chosen if Artagan hadn’t kicked her off? Laura: “Here’s the thing. If Fjord hadn’t jumped on my back, Jester would have gone. But him doing that, I mean, that’s why I froze like I did. I really didn’t know where it was going to go. Thankfully Artie made that choice for me.”

The Vilya reveal’s been waiting since Marisha made Keyleth’s backstory. Brian recalls that the question of what happened to Vilya came up in the campaign 1 recap, and Matt was cagey about it. “When I got the original backstory from Marisha, in my head, I was like, her mother’s probably still alive, just lost to the chaos for reasons that I’ll get to, but I like the idea of an eventual reunion when it made sense.” As they got later in the campaign, Keyleth’s story became about taking on this leadership and stepping into her mother’s footsteps: “I didn’t want to rob her of her journey by bringing her mother into it before it was complete. There wasn’t a beat that felt right for it in the first campaign unless the players actively wanted to go and seek it out.” He knew she was on an island somewhere, and that there was an issue with her memory, but the details were still hazy, and it never came up in the first campaign. “As soon as we got to Rumblecusp as a possible visiting location, I was like, this would probably be the island that Vilya’s at.” He knew the community would pick up on it quickly, but the players would likely be too engrossed in their own story. “Getting to send her home was wonderful, both for an idea of closure, but as a long-waiting gift to Marisha and Keyleth. It’s something that I’ve been looking forward to giving to her.”

On building Vilya’s character: “I wanted to make sure she wasn’t too similar to Keyleth. She couldn’t remember her family, but when she did, it meant everything.”

Brian asks what inspires Jester’s thought process to try and befriend every creature they come across. “Everyone is interesting. Except for Celia, she’s a bitch. If you piss her off, she might just hate you forever, but everybody else she thinks is pretty great. Jester can hold a good grudge.”

Brian asks Matt about the inspiration for Vokodo. “It is a heavily customized version of a Morkoth. I was just intrigued by how they had created this creature that creates this island around it. It has ways of affecting the minds of creatures around it. I didn’t enjoy that the creature was only Medium in size, and I wanted it to be something that was a little bit more changed by its experiences.” He also tied it in with the Astral Sea lore and suggested that it had been changed by its proximity to this volcano, similarly to how Thordak did in the first campaign.

Fan Art of the Week: An amazing Traveler Con Jester and Artagan by @callanthee on Twitter

How about the visions of the living city? Laura: “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with that thing. If it true that there’s a Molly connection, the Eyes of Nine, I don’t know. It’s just too much. We have to look into it.” Matt, blandly: “Weird mysteries.”

Who would the Disintegrate spell have hit if it had ricocheted? “Initially, I would have wanted to choose Caleb, like back at himself, because the immediate threat of that ray towards Vokodo, it would have been just right back at him.” But the runner-up would have been Jester because of the threat of the banishment back to the Astral Sea, the one place he didn’t want to go.

Laura could tell from Liam’s gameplay that he hadn’t realized someone was going to perma-die from that. “I thought it was going to be me, because I had been the one to banish him.”

Dani points out that the group would probably have gone after Artagan if Jester had died right before Traveler Con.

Matt highlights Cad’s Divine Intervention as pretty much the only way they could have learned the important information they used to prepare for the fight with Vokodo. He was torn between frustration at not being able to use this boss to its fullest potential... and pride in his players.

Laura is amused at listening to the characters talking about Jester when she’s not there. “It’s fun to hear but not be able to use that at all in your interactions with them.” Laura points out that even her sister who watches the show doesn’t trust the Traveler. Matt mentions that he’s always being very careful with the relationship between the Traveler and Jester, because it could get into rough territory. “There are unhealthy elements of their relationship, very much so. A lot of her story has been about disillusionment.” Laura: “Yeah. Eyes open.” They’ve set up bumpers to make sure they don’t veer into territory the players find uncomfortable. 

“Artagan at the end of campaign one versus Artagan at campaign two are different. He came into this world a purely selfish being of id and impulse. He still has those dark tendencies and can lean down those dark paths. But he went from a purely chaotic, selfish creature to unintentionally beginning to care for people that aren’t him.” Traveler Con definitely left a mark on him. “Aw shit, I let them in.”

Sam starts Facetiming Brian. “How does he know when we’re filming this?! No. I’m not going to do it.”

Matt and Laura are "super excited” for the new landscape of the next part of the journey.

Laura notes that Jester is getting past the point of “needing to put on the mask”, including around her mom. And as that’s happened at Traveler Con, the small breakdowns have been piling up. “That’s what therapy’s like, right?”

On the new goliath shopkeeper (even with the mispronunciations as clues, I got nothing on that spelling), Matt points out that purchasing magical items is tricky because most things were pulled into the war effort. He was trying to figure out how a shopkeeper could build a business in that environment: “with a bunch of really small, shitty enchantments”. As a kid, he loved novelty shops, and took a lot of inspiration from those memories.

So glad everything’s back in business! “As always, don’t forget to love each other. And don’t worry, it’s almost Thursday.”

[emptynarration]

Y’know what?

I’ma make a list of all Iplier and Septic egos (that I would attempt writing) and put down some general headcanon points.

Be aware some might be different from “fanon” and some might be similar to “fanon”. These are just my general thoughts.

Also cus it’s a lot of egos, it’s under a read-more.

Dark

- Has a notable aura. Usually keeps it pulled to only himself, even though that’s tiring. - Generally very exhausted. - He works on keeping all the crimes the egos commit undercover and unnoticed, keeping the manor up and running without decaying, handling their money resources and public appearances, such things. - Cares about all the egos like family, but would never admit it. - Will manipulate you to reach his goal. Don’t trust him.

Wilford

- Not human. He’s a being made entirely out of energy. Is “human” for fun. - Due to that he doesn’t understand a lot of human things. Such as an actual need for food/water, bathroom needs, need to sleep, death. - Can alter reality in his vicinity however he pleases pretty much. - Can teleport himself to places he’s been to before. - Can teleport objects to himself and way, as long as he knows where they are and where they go.

Host

- Doesn’t smile a lot. Never seems to swear. - Is the (second) tallest ego. Cryptid vibes. - Narrates constantly, but doesn’t need to to be able to “see”. - Can be a softie when he wants to be. - Tortures people for fun. Murders for fun. Has no remorse. - Can be a petty asshole quite a lot.

(I tend to also write him as a nice, gentle baby, because self-projecting)

Dr Iplier

- Chubby and somft. - Extremely done with everyone’s bs. - Swears to himself more than you’d think. - Has slight healing powers (but can also cause pain if he wants to). - Works in a hospital in the city.

Google

- Doesn’t understand emotions at all. - Has a weird way of speaking sometimes. - What is slang? - Doesn’t understand humans well. He sees the bad the most so he hates them a lot. No reason to like humans. - Makes beeping sounds.

Oliver (Google Yellow)

- Very cheerful, bright, happy. - Loves children and teens, struggles with adults. - Very kind and caring to everyone. - Will murder with a smile on his face.

Reed (Google Red)

- he’s a mystery to myself I’m sorry

Greg (Google Green)

- Fascinated by humans, how they work like and such. - Has an interest in medicine. - Helps Iplier with taking care of the egos’ injuries and illnesses. - Very calm individual, very gentle.

Yandere

- Nonbinary. Uses They/Them or She/Her. - Will stab you if you ask about their sex. - Obsessed with their senpai, but never tries to interact with them. - Dresses both feminine and masculine. - Pretty cheerful and bright usually. - Easily makes friends.

King

- Loves nature and animals more than anything. - Understands animals and can communicate with them to some degree. - Is pretty muscular and athletic actually. - Very very kind and gentle. - Naive and oblivious.

Jims Twins

- Refer to everyone as Jim. - They are both Jim. No CJ or RJ (that just makes no sense). - They love to confuse people. - Are almost always recording what’s happening. - Run a news show, obviously. - Very very curious people. Ask a lot of questions.

Eric

- Very very shy and anxious. - Has no clue how to talk with people. - Stutters when nervous. - Handkerchief is a comfort item. - Loves animals a lot. - Very soft and very afraid.

Bim

- Very dramatic. - Loves glitter. Always glittering. - Cannibal, but like, casual. - Pretty nice fellow usually. - A huge flirt. Charismatic. - Has powers which he can use to make people pay attention to him, fall in love with him, and just generally want him.

Author

- Likes to be alone and isolated. - No idea how to handle people. - Needs chewing stim necklace. - Gets overwhelmed by a lot of noise and crowds. - Loud noises are Bad™ - Wilford’s best friend. Gets up to a lot of mischief with him. - Uses his writing for every little thing possible.

Bing

- Loves slang and uses it a lot. No matter from which decade. - Loves skateboarding and is pretty good with it. - Has a TikTok 100%. - Very chill. You will not get him angry.

Yancy

- Loves singing and making his own musical numbers. - Can choreograph simple things by himself. - Can dance pretty well. Especially tap-dance. - Loves reading old classics. - He will never let go of his accent.

Captn Magnum

- Gentle giant. - Always out on the sea. - The tallest ego around. - Father figure for absolutely everyone. - Eats lemons like oranges.

Illinois

- Cocky. - Loves to flirt. - Loves himself first and foremost. - Cares about people. - Doesn’t want to get attached. - Loves history, doesn’t care about money.

Mark Bop

- Loves singing, but is bad at it. - Has his own made-up language. (The Jims understand him). - Loves music. Has mix-tables. - Muscular man. Rips his shirts when he flexes. - Enjoys roller-skating. - Bad at talking. Very bad.

Arti

- Very nervous. Very shy. - Paranoid. - Loves art in every form. - Paints a lot. Loves painting. Good at painting. - Likes to be left alone. - Likes silent company. - Very nice actually.

Leon (Resident Enis)

- Doesn’t trust easily. - Dirty. Stinky. - A little kleptomaniac. - Nice and relaxed around friends. - Very protective.

Mike (FNAF guard)

- Paranoid. - Afraid of everyone. - Always has a knife on him. - Very protective once he trusts someone. - Insomniac.

Bill

- Werewolf. - Is deathly afraid of technology. - Doesn’t understand technology. - Loves to farm. - Good cook. - Very very nice and gentle.

Kink

- Very open-minded. - Connects emotionally with others very easily. - Extremely accepting of everyone and everything. - Loves to learn about new things. - Very kind and nice. - Has a death glare that’ll make you shudder.

Hiro (Cooliplier)

- The cool kid. - Not the smartest. - Doesn’t know a whole lot. - Likes to play tough and strong. - A huge softie. Loves cuddles.

Dr. Warren Plier

- Will psychoanalyze you the moment you meet. - Very quiet individual. - A great listener, not so good at talking. - Tends to be blunt. - Interested in whatever is being talked about.

Norman (Paranormal Investigator)

- Has a weird obsession with blood. - Collects haunted dolls. - A bit arrogant. - Very confident and sure of himself. - Not the kindest, but not rude intentionally. - Loves all paranormal. - No respect for anyone or anything.

Marcus (E-boy)

- Loves the aesthetic. - Eats the peel of fruits no matter what. - Screwed taste buds. - Pescatarian (vegetarian + fish). - Also has a TikTok. - Creative. - Talks a lot.

Annus

- A wild card. - One moment he’s serious and all about life and death. - The next he fucks around and does something with pee. - Has an accurate sense of when catastrophic events happen. - Is terrified of dying, but not death itself. - Is afraid of being forgotten.

Anti

- Is a glitch, like a hologram. - If water touches him, he gets hurt. Can glitch out completely. - He’s weightless. Can’t be physically hurt unless he wants to be. - Has his own digital space where he “lives”. - Loves fucking with people. - Gets off of gutting people. - Collects knives. - Loves making music with a launchpad.

Schneeple

- Barely has an accent anymore. - Typical bilingual problems. - Weird mix of words he uses due to how he learned English. - A good surgeon. - Works in the same hospital as Iplier.

Chase

- Absolute asshole. - Drunk 90% of the time (Sad when tipsy, angry when drunk). - Violent. Will quickly get physical with people. - There’s legal reasons he’s not allowed to see his kids.

Robbie

- Undead zombie. - Mental age of a child. Very slow. - Looks rotting but doesn’t smell like rotting. - Can’t see well. Can’t read. - Very kind. Very curious. - Bad at talking.

Jackie

- A true hero. - Kind, gentle, caring. - Has powers of flight, strength, and a bit of speed. - A big amount of stamina. - Muscular and athletic. - Is outside 90% of the time. - Hates being stuck inside.

JJ

- Mute. Uses sign language. - Confused by modern things. - Uses old words and ways of speaking. - Technology is fascinating. - Very kind and gentle. - Immaculate fashion.

Marvin

- Introvert. - Hates being around people. Loathes crowds. - Loves exploring magic and potions. - May use people to test out spells and potions. - Very arrogant and self-obsessed.

[arthurflecksgirl]

STOMPIN ON A DREAM *erotic Arthur Fleck short story *

Arthur Fleck and Reader

Involves: mental hospital, mental illness, sex

It was a quiet night in Arkham state hospital.

The only noise that was quietly floathing through the air was someone humming a song. Not loud, but still noticeable from the other side of the door. Doctor Finn didnt payed much attention to it. The patient with the case number 064823 did it since he came here 7 months ago. He always seemed to live in his own world. Most days it doesnt even seem to bother him that he is locked up in here. Thats how it seemed. But you knever know how it looks like on the inside of the patients heads. Especially when it came to Arthur Fleck.

He was very nice most of the time, not paying much attention to the other patients. Unless he wants to tell some jokes he just wrote down in his messy looking journal he carried with him everywhere he goes. Even to the bathroom. The doctors checked the diary daily, to make sure its fine for him to have it with him.  All in all he was one of the most quiet patients, which doesnt mean that the doctors felt comfortable around him. He was still an unsolved mysterie to them. Even to himself. Always in his own world but still observing. Always daydreaming, talking to himself but still having the presence  of someone who can change not only his but your own reality within a second. Some new doctor even left weeks ago because she was so drawn in by his presence, she was afraid to fall in love with him. Even though he never even talked to her or even noticed her. The intense look in his green eyes, the smirk on his face and the scar on his upper lip which made him look unpredictable and vulnerable at the same time was too much for her to handle. He was in his mid 30ies, his face slightly weathered but insanly attractive. You could hear him dancing through the hallways some nights, always playing a song in his head. His slim body moving graceful, light as a feather. Always an undefinable  expression on his face. A very beautiful but somehow broken man with a traumatic childhood. And alone. Always alone.

Arthur was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling in his white room. White exept for the red , big, messy written letters at which he was staring at.

"I thought of quitting baby, but my heart just ain`t gonna buy it"

He was closing his eyes. The red letters were still there. Now with a black background.

"Quitting" stood out now. The letters started to vibrate in his head. He got nerveaus, so he tried to calm himself down by humming the words. "I thought of quitting baby..." his voice as soft as his hands. His lips shaking a bit while trying to concentrate "...but my heart just aint gonna buy it...." his hands checking his chest, if he still had a heartbeat "...and if I´d think it was worth one single try..." he felt his heart beating, so he must have been still alive. "I`d ride on a big bird and then i´d fly". He opened his eyes. The letters were still there on the ceiling. Bt they stopped moving. He wasnt sure if it was a good thing that his heart was still beating. So many times he wished for it to stop. Just to  get rid of all the darkness around him. Of all the blood. Like the blood onthe ceiling which stared down at him. Judging him.

He tried to remember why he even came here. Why he spent the last months in this room. But nothing came to mind.  He looked at his wrists and noticed some cigarette burns. Maybe he tried to hurt himself. Maybe thats why he got locked up. He checked his wrists for more. No scars. "Who knows" he whispered to himself as the door suddenly opened and Dr Finn came in.

"Good morning Mr. Fleck. Could you please starting to get ready? Today is your day, remember? You can go home."

Arthur kept staring at the ceiling "Maám?"

"Yes Mr. Fleck?"

"Why havent you cleaned the ceiling? The bloody letters made me nerveaus all night"

The young doctor with her long, black hair smiled "Thats no blood, Mr. Fleck. You took a lipstick and wrote it two days ago. We cleaned it so many times but you still keep writing it again"

"I see. Its...its my fave song, you know?"

"Mr. Fleck did you hear what I told you? You can now pack your stuff and go home. But no hurry, just take your time, okay?"

The door closed as Arthurs mind wandered again.

He closed his eyes.

"Hey Arthur, how is it going? Did you missed me?"

He saw you standing there on other side of the room.

"I think I did (YN) ... oh yes.. I did !"

"Good to hear, Arthur. I missed you, too. Its been so long."

He kept staring at the corner of the room. You were beautiful, smiling at him.

"I cant wait to touch you again, Artie. To kiss you"

Arthurs hand was still  lying on his chest, now making its way down. He felt his ribs popping out. His skinny body looking starved. He wasnt eating like he should. All the meds stopped his appetite. His hands sliding over his hollow belly, further down and stopped between his legs.

He could hear your voice from across the room.

"Touch yourself for me, Arthur. I am watching you"

He nodded and grinned at you. Then focused on his own body again.

He was in his underwear only and stuck his left hand in it.

The letters on the wall now a lighter red. Lipstick. Obviously.

"You know this is my lipstick right there" he could hear you say.

"The same lipstick I kissed you with, remember?"

He softly started to play with his dick.

"I`m ...not sure (YN) "

He closed his eyes again. He thought it was the lipstick he owned by himself back from the days when he used to put clown make up on. He was a great party clown. With a huge painted on smile. But maybe that was just a story someone told him.

"Oh sure it is mine, Arthur. And I will kiss you again  with it. Till you`re out of breath. I will smear the red all over your face"

"Yeah?" a smirk on the left side of his lips which lifted up his scar. Made him look even more attractive. His almost shoulder long, brown hair  messy pressed against the pillow.

"Sure. And I wouldnt kiss you on your lips only."

Your voice echoed through his head.

"Where else?"

"Keep on touching youself, Arthur. Its my hand doing it."

"Its your hand (YN). Yeah I....I can feel it"

He softly squeezed and caressed the part between his slender legs, biting his lips.

He imagined you, lying on top of him, petting his sweaty curls. Calling him beautiful. It was your hand between his thighs as he felt waves of lust beginning to floath allthrough his body.

He now got rid of his underwear, his gentle hands around his dick which is getting harder as he imagines you rubbing yourself against his shaking body.

"Arthur, I can feel you all the way inside of me. Pull me closer. Please Arthur! Its could be never close enough!"

His hands up and down faster now.A silent moan coming from his thin lips.

He wanted to come closer. Entering your body, wearing you like a coat that keeps him warm in this cold, dark world.

He wanted to get closer to you, so he pushed himself into you. So gently but with an  almost unbearable intensivity. Just like when he was dancing. His face expression somewhere between pain and bliss.

"Arthur. You`re everywhere"

So were you. Your voice was everywhere. It wasnt only whispering in his ear. It filled the room, echoed from the walls. Your voice was a vibration between his legs, telling him to love you till you can`t breathe anymore.

"Do you love me (YN) he whispered.

All he wanted was to be loved. To be touched. he was graving it all through his life.

All this lonelyness was laying heavy on him, like a straight jacket. Holding him back from dancing with the ones he loved.

"I love you more than anything." your voice came from the letters on the ceiling.

"You have so many different sides. And I love every single one of them"

He masturbated harder now, humming.

"I`ve been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate a poet"

Your moans echoing through his head.

"...a poet, a pawn and a king"

"No matter how many ups and downs you may have, Arthur. I will never leave your side. We are one! Can`t you feel it? We are one body, one mind"

""I`ve been up and down and over and out..."

His eyes twitching from excitement. He is breathing heavier now, his long, dark eyelashes fluttering like butterflies.

He can almost taste your tongue in his mouth. Feel your hands touching the sweaty curls in his neck.

His voice still  whispering "I have waited so long for this".

He could feel the blood pulsing in his sensitive parts.

You were the girl of his dreams.

The one he thought about in his darkest hours.

All of his sexual fantasies he wrote in his journal were written about you.

His only light in a world of white walls and darkness.

He felt  the weight of your body on his fragile pelvis.

Arthur pressed his head into the white pillows as he was about to cum.

He couldnt take it anymore.

"(YN) *moaning* Oh my god, this is just....fuck me. Please (YN). Love me!"

Red lettering  blurring his vision.

He couldnt read what it says cuz the feeling of being able to cum this hard overwhelms him.

Black out.

Melodies.

So many melodies which don`t fit to each other.

So many colors blurring his mind.

Arthur presses his hands against his ears.

The sound won`t go away.

"(YN) ? "

No answer.

His hands are touching the sheets, so he could check if he was still lying in bed.

He was. Wet sheets.

His eyes wandered across the room.

He was alone.

Arthur touched his forehead to check if he had a fever dream.

He was unsure.

His greasy curls hanging in his tired eyes.

He felt a bit ashamed while he was putting his white underwear back on.

He crawled back under the sheets which he wished smelled like him but they didnt.

Another stare to the ceiling.

Red letters.

Lipstick. Blood maybe.

Someone was knocking at the door.

"Knock knock" he said as the door opened.

"Mr. Fleck, time to wake up. Maybe you will try to eat a bit more today?! You lost some weight again"

Arthur closed his eyes.

"You came earlier and  told me I can go home now"

Dr. Finn picked up the diary from the floor.

Taking a close look through the new written pages.

"More song lyrics, huh Mr. Fleck? I am afraid you can`t go home. Its the first time I visited you today. Have you took your medication?"

"Mhhh hhmmm"

"Did you had some visions again, Mr Fleck?"

The melodies got more quitet now.

The walls looked  bright and shiney.

Even the lettering on the ceiling was gone.

All cleaned up.

He put his finger upon his lips, looking in the doctors eyes. Humming. Silently. But you could still hear the words coming out of his mouth.

"..some people get their kicks, stompin on a dream"

Arthur smiled.

THE END

[the-headbop-wraith]

X

1_21 Steal Life

The light went out and he was left in the dark, disoriented and spinning.  He heaved another breath trying to find a point of tolerance, a slim wedge of comfort though impossible as it was in his given position.  He tried shutting his eyes but somehow that made it worse.

He wasn’t sure how long he was suspended in the dark since the light went out.  It could’ve been seconds, it felt like hours.  If only he could get a hand free, maybe… maybe, he didn’t think he’d be able too. He lost strength quickly as they waited, admiring their stuffed turkey until the scene became dull and they went somewhere, probably inside to escape the night.  When they finally left him, he tried then to get his hand free but after an hour already his head was pounding from his inverted suspension.  The black static swirled in his peripheral and a distinct ringing began somewhere behind his ears.  He could barely make out the sound of the trees groaning as the wind picked up, rustling the cool green leaves above and below as the sun faded.

Arthur let out another strained gasp, trying in vain to keep circulation rolling through his muscles despite his position.  All his organs pushed inside his torso, crushing his lungs and heart with each passing second.  The air was sharp on his back though it was summer, when the sun descended the temperature dropped across the open woodland.  Probably colder with his blood dragging through his veins, what with how tightly they bound his wrists and ankles.  But of course they didn’t want to risk him getting away, he could sympathize with that.

They were fucking lunatics all the same.

He tried again to loosen a wrist, he could feel his skin rubbing but he couldn’t budge his hands through the rough rope.  Another harsh groan wheezed out of him, and he wrenched his knees and swung lightly beneath the knot.  An eerie creak came from the large branch that suspended above his feet, not unlike that of a hangmen’s tree.  Arthur held still as he swayed, listening as the wind picked up through the leaves.  He wrenched his arm at his back when something brushed over his neck, and with irritation he realized it was only a leaf.

Only a leaf.

Rustling came from the ground, he couldn’t remember where the ground was and he couldn’t see but for dark shapes huddled somewhere below.  He kept silent and still, with nothing else in his arsenal of defense.  He’d play dead.  There was movement, a flash of something strong and blurry.  He heard something.  Arthur listened as the sound came again, a low rasping voice.

“Arty?” the deep voice rang.  “You there?”

“Sometimes,” he mumbled.  It felt like he was spinning, but he could still see the light as it brightened.  Vivi’s camping lamp, with the soft blue glow.  “I’ve been busy.”

“That’s good,” Lewis went on.  Vivi stood in the halo of light beside him, giving the area beyond Arthur a critical glare.  “I thought maybe you got caught or something.  How should we get him down?”

“I don’t want to leave him,” Vivi said.  She cupped her lips in her hand and flecked her eye along the trunk. “It wouldn’t be so bad if you were right side up, but what point would there be to that?  Are you holding out?”

“No.  But take your time, I’ll just hang around.”  Arthur listened.  He could hear something rustling through the grass not far, and the light from the lamp caught those frightening red eyes and the flash of a white shoulder as it prowled.  A small whine bubbled in his chest, a happy sound.  “How was the headmasters lounge?”

Vivi held a lighter and Lewis had his pocket knife, he shined the lamp between the two items and they glistened as he and Vivi muttered over them. Occasionally she fiddled with the backpack strap cutting on her shoulder.  “Some documents, nothing really incriminating,” Lewis murmured.  “The rope will absorb the heat and you’ll burn him.”

“Then you stand on my shoulders, I’m not going to risk cutting him,” Vivi grumbled.  Lewis kept the knife sharpened, but she knew if Arthur hadn’t gotten his hands free, then the rope was bound very tightly.

Lewis clutched the knife in his fist and shook it in her face. “I’ll stand on Mystery’s shoulders if I have to,” he was barely able to contain his irritation, and Arthur was now only waiting to see if they would draw attention to themselves first.  “But you’re going to burn him…  Is that nylon, Art?”

“It’s a rope,” Arthur mumbled, his voice trembling.  “And it’s tied around my wrists.  That is the extent of my knowledge.”

“You use ropes all the time,” Lewis said.  “Or are you handcuffed?”

“I am tied,” Arthur sighed.  “And if I was not delirious with blood rushing to my head, and my skin numb as fuck, I would clarify the ropes nature, Mr. Pepper.”

“Language,” Lewis hissed, with a grin.

“Give me that.”  Vivi pulled the pocket knife from Lewis’ hand and snatched the small camp lamp from his hand. “If I even scrape him….”  She trails off, as she set her backpack aside then proceeded to shove Lewis over to where Arthur was suspended.  “He’s kind of up there.  Is there a way to get him down without breaking his neck?”

“No problem.  Lemme take care of it.”  Lewis knelt on his knee and Vivi climbed onto his shoulders, balancing her shoes on the sleeves of his sweater vest.  She stuck the lamp handle in her mouth and crouched down, taking Lewis hands to steady herself as he stood up.  “You trust me Arty?”

“Usually.”  Arthur wouldn’t admit he was nervous though.  The angle of the light altered behind his back when Vivi removed it from her teeth, and he could no longer see the flash of fur or the eyes beyond the blue halo, he could only hear the delicate feet sweeping through the grass.  “Did you guys get any other exploration done?” he asked. Vivi snagged his bundled wrists for balance, and he felt the lamp jab him in the small of his back as she held on to him and the light with one hand.  The steady grind of the knife on the rope began, but it for some reason made him more anxious.

“Mystery and I climbed through some vents in the west dorms,” Vivi said.  “There are some hidden rooms inaccessible from the regular corridors, but I believe they’re only safe rooms or something.  How you doing?”

“A little light headed.  You should hurry.”  Arthur shut his eyes when spots and stars dazzled through the light.  “Wait… are you cutting my legs free?  Vi—”

Vivi’s voice crashed through, dangerously loud.  “You’re doing this Lew?”

“Just say when.”  Lewis stumbled back when Vivi sprang off his shoulders.  He hadn’t expected it so soon, and a ghastly screech descended and hit him in the chest.  “Whoa! It worked!  Just like cheerleading.”  Lewis grinned when Vivi swung the light to him and Arthur.

“You had doubts?”  Arthur hissed, aware their voices were too loud.  He regretted letting himself get worked up in his state, a heavy wave of dizziness swung through his shoulders and brain, his consciousness began to crawl. The light lunged into his eyes and he felt himself falling again.

“Hang in there,” Lewis said.  “Keep it together for a few more seconds, then you’ll feel yourself swing back.” He set Arthur on the grass and held him elevated slightly from the cold ground.  Vivi set the light aside as she stooped beside Arthur, she pressed her palms over his cheeks and rubbed at his face.  “He just needs a second.”

“We’re looking good.  They should be in curfew around now,” Vivi assured.  Just in case, she raised her head back and gave the distance around them a short scan before returning her attention to Arthur.  “Don’t move.  Can you hear me?”

“Like a bell,” Arthur said.  He held leans forward when Vivi moves behind him to begin cutting the rope, some sort of scratchy thing, away.  “They took my supplies, my shoes… and my shirt.  I have no idea where any of that—” When his hands were free, he barely raised his head back when Lewis pulled away.  Arthur struggled as Vivi shoved her sweater down over his head and forced his shoulders up into the sleeves.  “Thanks.”  Lewis pulled him up to stand once he got his arms through the sleeves.  The air was cool, but Vivi would get along well in just her blue T-shirt.

“Mystery,” Vivi hissed.  She snatched up the camp light and went back to reclaim her backpack, then moved by Lewis and Arthur.  She fiddled with the lamp, adjusting the light intensity until it was dimmed perilously low. “Where are you?”

The white face emerged from the dark, red eyes blazing behind the spectacles as the dog addressed his companion, and bobbed his snout off in a direction.  It’s clear for the most part.  Mystery turned tail and padded on ahead.  

Vivi followed.  “Curfew should have been in effect a few minutes ago,” she rationalized, following the white fur as it sank among the shadows.  There was no moon tonight, but the night sky was filled with shimmering jewels across its depths.  Even the residents didn’t have lights to identify the various buildings built throughout the meadow, one either didn’t go out or the individual used a personal lamp, but it was forbidden to go out past curfew.  “Can you guys see enough?”

“Just enough,” Lewis answered.  “I found one of the guardian shrines in the north dorms.  You know, where the disciples have their apartments. There’s something there I didn’t get a chance to check out.”  He didn’t mention it was when they lost contact with Arthur.

The only ones exempt from curfew were the missionaries.  They lurked in the dorms and around the village, each guided by a kerosene lamp with a metal shield fixed to the back.  When the Mystery Skulls returned to the works and shops of the inner village, Mystery moved closer to his group and kept them alert when he detected one of the nocturnal guards.  A fraction of the time missionaries were hidden when the light was cast away, but the shield on the lamps back intensified the soft glow of their bulb in any direction they spun the lamp in.  Mystery pressed his side into Vivi’s knees when she was about to turn the corner of a long house, she nearly missed the glint of the shield as the missionary whirled in their direction.

“Close one,” Vivi murmured.  She draped her arm around the lamp and glanced back as Lewis and Arthur caught up.  She shrugged her shoulders and made a vague gesture, in Arthur’s direction.

Lewis helped Arthur lean against the wood slated wall as they waited.  In response to Vivi, Arthur made a yacking sign with one hand and motioned his palms around his head.  Not for the first time, Lewis wondered if they just did this to be funny or if there was an actual dialogue passed between the two.

The missionary wandered off to some distant shadow and Mystery was certain he caught the clamor of a door being wedged or swung, but the dog waited. He crouched low in the grass with his head between his paws, the only movement came from Mystery’s ears as they spun and swung to the various sounds that braved onto the open air.  No crickets, no birds, no rustling of nocturnal creatures.  Unnatural. A small shudder rose in Mystery as he pushed himself to his feet.  One rear leg kicked back, tapping Vivi on the shin before he trotted off.  Take it slow, keep close to the wall.

“Are we clear?” Vivi whispers.  She huddled beside the wall with Lewis and Arthur, while Mystery padded out away from the looming mound of the buildings dark mass.  She lost track of Mystery’s outline as he left the range of the lamp, but she waited.

Mystery announced himself with a low gurgle, and resumed his calm stride as the others followed.  He paused to wait as they crossed the lawn, and let Vivi bring the lamp closer to his position.

“The north dorms are this way,” Lewis said, as he gestured with one hand.  Mystery began into the dark with his group following.

The village was in part rural, with only a few technological areas for modern commodity.  A few of the buildings housed the soft purr of generators that powered engines in other lodges for some of the machines.

“Up there,” Lewis uttered.  He guides Vivi’s lamp arm, and she adjusts the lights intensity as Lewis directs to one of the overhead lines nearly invisible above in the bleak sky. “The disciples have electricity in their dorms.”

“How predictable,” Arthur muttered.  He had recovered enough to follow on his own and kept pace with his friends as they weaved between the buildings through the village.  “Does it seem really quiet around here?”  They pause to listen, and Mystery gave a confirming bark somewhere in the dark ahead of them.  “I was expecting crickets.”  He paused, someone shifted uncomfortably and Vivi lowered the light. Despite himself Arthur cringed in the dark.  “Now that I think on it, that’s really creepy.”

“There’s nothing that can hurt us,” Vivi assured.  She moved to Arthur and pat the hand clenched beside his hip.  “Not out here.”

“Yeah,” Arthur breathed.  “But we’re about to go indoors, right?”

“No one’s gonna see us,” Lewis further encouraged.  “We go in, get out.  Nothing between – Er… well, you get the picture.”  He followed Vivi when she renewed the pace, Mystery ahead always kept in the edge of the soft light.

The disciples apartments had one of the thick cables connecting to a sharp outcropping of the roof, somewhere behind the lodge.  Vivi brought the light down as they entered the small cubby that led into the backdoor.  The group huddled with the light as Lewis went through his pockets, until he found an unremarkable silver key.

“Where’d you get that?” inquired Arthur, as Lewis shouldered the door open gently.  Vivi raised the light through the doorframe as Lewis stepped through, arm held out in caution.

“Found it in one of the meeting rooms,” Vivi spoke.  When Lewis gave no indication of concern, she edged forward and joined him in the open corridor.  The floor creaked under Lewis’ weight, and the group paused at the sound. “Easy.”  She felt Mystery brush by her legs, his claws ticked on the hard wood floor as he moved up to join Lewis.  Arthur eased the door behind him shut, and set his hand on the wall as he followed the hall.

“Everyone should be asleep,” Lewis whispered.  The hall was spacious, he could put his arms out and not touch the sides.  A large doorway opened to the right and he inched forward to look inside.  The lack of light should mean no one was within the room, but the shadows were thick.  He crept by and Vivi followed, the lamp illuminated a portion of the room beyond the archway.  Mystery made soft sounds as he sniffed over the walls and floor, the dog kept his pace even when Lewis had paused.  

“There are strange runes on the doorways,” Lewis mentioned, as they turned the corner at the halls end.  “On the floors in the doorways, into most of the rooms.  I think these are the separate wings of the bedrooms.” He pointed one of the dark painted marks on the floor, beneath the edge of a door.  No light was visible through the crack.  Vivi lowered her lamp and examined what was visible.  She touched the edge of the mark and shuddered.  “You cold?”

She shook her head and stood up.  “No.  I think… it looks like a protective barrier,” Vivi deduced.  “Where was this place you found?”  She turns and hands Arthur the light.  “Will this help?”

Arthur nods as he takes the lamp.  He raised the light to check the end of the corridor they had come from and saw no movement, only wavering shadows.  “They said they were going to make an example of me,” he murmurs.  Vivi waits for him to catch up, not for the light but she waited for him to go on.  “I’m not sure how.”

“Don’t think too much about it,” Lewis replies.  He paused at each door checking the symbol as Arthur brought the light, and listened for sounds within the chamber.  “We got you back.”

“What sort of… thing do they worship?”  Arthur hushed as Lewis set a finger to his own lips and crouched down beside the corner of a wall.  Lewis never answered, he went around the corner and only motioned for the others to follow.  “Viv?”

“It’s a little vague,” Vivi answered.  They followed Lewis into a large room, Arthur felt the air thin as the walls opened up and the ceiling overhead raised in its architectural design. He waited to raise the intensity of the lamp and find where Lewis was exactly, see where they were, but he knew better.  “Some sort of guardian, or low level devil.  I’ve seen no sort of artwork to signify what, but the runes….”  She trailed off when they reached Lewis and Mystery, stepping down a set of stairs that descended beside the wall.  Vivi moved around the rail and followed.

At the small cement flat at the bottom of the steps, Lewis fumbled with a door handle and cursed.  “Do ou still have your tools?” Lewis twisted the locked knob in his fist.

“They took all my tools,” Arthur shook his head.  Vivi swung her backpack off and began going through its inner pockets.

“Will these work?”  Vivi handed over a sharp needle and a paperclip.  “Our only other option would be to leave and come back later, but the risks involved.”  She traded Arthur for the lamp, and he took the tools to the door.

The lock was simple but difficult, its archaic design was what threw Arthur off but he managed to unhinge the mechanism.  Lewis commended his skill as he pushed the door open and scoped out the interior.  There was nothing but steps descending into dark cement walls, no lights and no visible switch.  They crept into the long tunnel down and down, the soft steps cracking against the walls and snapping at their ears drums like the soft crackle of wood on a fire.  The small blaze of light that engulfed the group swelled within the tight confines of the wall.  Arthur made certain to shut the door before he followed, his bare soles slipping over the cold rock as he hurried after his friends.

“Don’t fall,” Lewis cautioned.  “It doesn’t look that far.”  True to word, the tight steps led to another door which was not locked.  He pressed it open and indicated the runes on the floor as Vivi entered behind him.  She handed the light back to Arthur and dug into her backpack for a notebook, and knelt down for a few seconds to sketch.

Mystery gave the symbol a wide distance as he moved out around the room, examining what walls were visible in the dark.  As Lewis moved across the room, Mystery snapped his attention to his steps and followed the path of the tall figure.

Lewis found the switch on the wall and flipped it, a large steel lamp above in the ceiling flashed on and a dull hum of outdated electrical current buzzed in the air.  The room was spacious with a low wooden ceiling, a series of small pews lined the furthest side of the room, set to face an altar and a large picture behind a wood carved statue of a tall man, inhumanely tall.  At the base of the statue was a podium, and a large outdated freezer set into the stands base.

“Groovy,” Lewis said.  He pointed to a series of tall drapes hung at the corners of the room which seemed wholly decorative, but Lewis explained, “There’s some kind of drainage chute I crawled through.”  Vivi stood up from her sketching and followed Lewis across the room, toward the musty olive green curtains.  “I couldn’t see what they were doing, but I could hear them.  Some sort of ritual, or some initiation.  They did a lot of chanting, but that was about it.”

As Lewis went on about his experience, Arthur walked off to explore on his own.  He moved to the back of the room and examined the tall wood carved statue of the man. The statue was ancient, horribly distorted through the years of advanced age; its wood stained and darkened, cracked in many areas and expelled a strong scent of ash.  He looked to the podium before the figure and noted a large book set on the stand, the cover gray and leather bound with pale cords of what appeared to be sinew holding the spine of the book together.  He reached over to the book—

“¡No lo toques!”  Lewis snatched Arthur’s wrist in a painful grip and jerked his fingers away from the book. There was fear in his eyes, and Arthur inwardly cringed.  “Lo siento, me… I couldn’t,” Lewis stuttered and took a breath.  “You have to be careful.”

“What is it?” Vivi all but demanded as she raced over.  She looked at the book and her eyes narrowed behind her glasses.  Marks were carved into the solid wood of the podium, words she began to mouth to herself silently.  “It’s… some kind of language.  I don’t understand the grammatical breaks in it.”

“It creeped me out when I got into this chamber?”  Lewis apologized again to Arthur and released his arm.  Arthur took his hand back and rubbed his sore wrist through the blue sweater sleeve, as he watched Lewis.  At the front of the podium, where the outdated freezer sat, was Mystery, examining the white metal carefully.  Lewis moved around to join the dog.  “Something about ‘The Warden of Names.’”  Over the two front doors of the freezer hung separated segments of chain.  Mystery shuffled close to Lewis, as he leaned down to inspect the chains.  “Do you have a protective dispel for this?”

Vivi rounded the podium and crouched before the freezer with Lewis, and rapped her knuckles on the thick metal door.  The paint was chipped along its smooth edges and the whole container seemed fitted into the podium, but why?  She pulled off her backpack and went through it, pulling out bundles of sage, a container of salt, all useless.  The investigator gave a small noise of glee when she brought out a ring, the same used for keychains.  “Can I see your knife?”  She held out her hand for Lewis, and took the knife and unfolded it.  With the knife she cut nicks into the outer side of the silver metal, carefully directing the blade to cut along the rim and cross over the miniscule symbols.  “Mystery. Your paw.”

Mystery sat down and held out his paw.  Vivi nicked him on the back of his hand and the crimson fluid slipped through the dark fur of his toes.  Vivi rubbed the ring into the red, then pulled his paw up and kissed it.

“Thank you for your blessing,” she said.  Vivi blew carefully on the ring until the blood had dried, then approached the two chains that hung beside the doors.

Arthur watched over the podiums top, while Vivi fumbled to connect the two chains with the ring.  Lewis pulled Mystery over and had a roll of gauze out to utilize on the cut dripping on the dogs paw.  “So, what’s that supposed to do?” he asked.

“The book you’re looking at,” Vivi began, and Arthur glanced down on the stained and worn top of the desk, “basically curses whoever touches the book.”  Arthur took a wide step back.  “You might want to consider reading more of the lore stuff.”

Arthur put his hands in his empty pockets.  “I’ll maybe rely on you for a counter curse,” he muttered. “Is it really that dangerous?”

“Dunno,” Lewis admits.  He rubbed Mystery’s bandaged paw, and said, “We’ll put some aloe on it later.” He raises his voice to Arthur. “But I don’t dabble with beliefs, ‘specially ones this strong.”

“Done,” Vivi announced, and stood.  “You can take the book now, Artie.”  Arthur looked at her and laughed dryly; he took another wide step back. Before Vivi could argue with him, Lewis strolled up to the podium and snatched the book off.  Lewis winced and shut his eyes, he held the book in front of his face as if expecting some kind of typhoon of a blow.

That never came.

Lewis cracked one eye and stared at the dark spot on the wood that outlined the space where the tome had rested for years, another rune marked into the polished timber.  The faint scent of smoke and ash rose.  “I expected worse,” he murmurs, and backed away.  “We should probably go?”

“Let me look at that book, first.”  Vivi gestured for Lewis to hand her the tome, and she dropped to her knees on the cold cement.  Mystery padded over and curled up close to her, the basement was drafty and small trembles began to work up in her bare shoulders where her T-shirt didn’t cover. “’Ward of Names,’” she repeated. Lewis handed her the book, and Vivi set it down.  “Bag.” Lewis leaned away and snagged her backpack by one strap.  “Thank you.”

The lights, did they flicker?  Arthur glanced up as he moved away from the stand to join his friends. He glanced up, unsure if his eyes were reliable after he had been woozy from hanging upside down, but decided he couldn’t tell.  Just his imagination, he was unsettled by the scenery, by the atmosphere of the room. He watched Vivi drag her laptop from the backpack and set it down, screen open and her fingers already snapping across the keypad.  She kept repeating Ward of Names with each page she flipped, the yellowed sheets crinkled and the texture gave the notion that any moment the parchment would rip into shreds.  Arthur coughed at the foul smell of the book.

“Some of these go back to the mid Eighteen hundreds,” Vivi spoke. “The handwriting is nearly impossible to read, and the style keeps changing.”  She bit her lip, her eyes move to the computer and back to the book. “It goes on and on.”

“Yes, it goes on and on my friends,” Lewis hummed, grinning. “Some people started singing it not knowing what it was.”

“And they’ll continue singing it forever just because …” Arthur began, and Lewis chimed in with him:

“This is the song that never ends.  Yes, it goes on and on my friends!  Some people started singing it not knowing what it was.  And they’ll continue singing it forever just because.…”

“You’re both grounded,” Vivi snapped.  The duo gave disappointed moans, exaggerated but still disappointed. “Both of you, to your corners.” Vivi looked back to the book, and stiffened.  “Here’s one. Late 1990s.”  She turned back to the laptop and flipped through a database of names, dates, all compiled.  Addresses were not given, but dates were prolific through the tome, among various names. “I think I understand what we found.”

“The universes perfect brownie recipe,” Arthur quipped.  Mystery reached out and slapped his foot. “Lighten up,” he said to the dog, and returned his gaze to Vivi.  “Does it look like most our people are in that book?”

“Exactly,” Vivi answered.  “Maybe more, its hard to sift through.  I think this’ll be all we need for now.”  She shut the tome and turned to the computer, checking the time before closing out of the programs.  “Just some quick pictures, and we can call it a night.”

“Yes,” Arthur praised, arms going up.  The sleeves of Vivi’s sweater were shortened on him, but that wasn’t as bad as wandering around on the frigid cement barefoot.  He’d be glad to get back to the van, but…  “Are we going to have to come back?”

“We might.”  Vivi pulled the camera from her bag and turned it on.  She scanned the room over with her eyes before she raised the camera and began snapping off flashes, first the podium and the ancient carved statue, then the pews and surrounding walls.  After every few snaps she’d take the camera and scan through the still images, the scroll screen buzzing as she cycled through the shots.

Arthur moved out of the way, going over to where Lewis stood as the taller figure gestured him over.  Without comment Lewis took Arthur’s arm and pulled back the puffy sleeve and examined his wrists.  “That doesn’t hurt?” Lewis pondered, aloud.

“Naw.”  Arthur didn’t bother to pull his other wrist back when Lewis caught it, and checked the soft blue and yellow shades on his skin.  “I didn’t even notice until you mentioned it.”  Lewis scowled, contemplative and irritated, and Arthur reflected how glad he was not to be the source of his agitation.  “I’ve gotten used to it.”

Lewis eyes snapped to him, but resumed scrutinizing the dark shades on his pale wrists.  “Vivi has some aspirin, but you need some water too,” he deemed, and released Arthur’s hands as he stepped away.  “And no coffee.”

“Lew,” Arthur groaned.  “You’re such a mom.  Has anyone told you that?”

“I will hear none of it from you, young man,” Lewis jabbed back. He knelt near the computer to power the machine down and slipped it into Vivi’s bag, he collected the sack and the tome before turning back to Arthur.  “Besides, your hands are important.  You need to take care of them.“

“Hands?  What?” Vivi concluded her photography and returned to Lewis, holding the bag with the book jammed inside.  “How bad?”  She looked to Arthur, though Lewis answered.

“Bad bruising.  A few days of fluid and not getting tied up will help.  Ready?”  They turned to Mystery already padding to the entrance of the room, he had plucked up the lamp abandoned by the rune and was making his way to the threshold of the door, when a noise jarred him.  The fur between Mystery’s shoulders stood on end and he looked back, beyond the Mystery Skulls group as they caught up.  Lewis caught on and was turning back, when the first thud clattered in the room. Arthur sprang into him and grabbed his elbow, and another hollow crack reverberated off the harsh walls as each in turn looked back to the freezer door.  “What—?”

Vivi’s teeth chattered as she watched the doors, the only security over them a shimmering ancient chain connected by a keyring.  “I think the script meant ‘Warden’ of Names,’” she said. Within the freezer came a rasping wail, grinding through the cold air.  “Now is the time to move.  Move!” She shoved Lewis and Arthur through the doorway.  Mystery barks as he followed the three up the stairs and into the dim tunnel.

“I thought you made a protective barrier!” Arthur growled.  He was right behind Lewis trying to match his speed.

“I don’t know how strong it is, I don’t know what’s in there!” Vivi cried.  “It’ll hold, or it would’ve had us by now.”  She ran into both Arthur and Lewis when they stopped on the steps, and Mystery yelped when he collided with the back of her thighs, the harsh clatter of the lamp came when the handle was jarred from Mystery’s teeth and dropped it onto the steps.  “Ow.”

“Shh,” Lewis hissed, he pushed his arms back easing the others down the steps.  The soft tap of claws meandered around as Mystery collected himself and moved uneasily under the shadows.  “Back. We have to go back.”

Arthur was about to protest, when he heard it too.  Voice, and feet scuffling in the dark above. There was a light above, but in the narrow space of the stairs it was only a matter of time.  “What’s the worst they can do to us?” he murmured.

“Not kill us,” Vivi reasoned.  She tugged Arthur by the shoulders and got him to turn around and follow.  She couldn’t see well where her feet were falling in the dull warped shades under her. She could only catch the rapid paw slaps on the cement as Mystery charged onward.  The bright cutout of light in the doorframe blazed below. “The drain?”

“Behind the drapes,” Lewis answered.  “But that—” A voice from the tunnel, closer than it could’ve been, harped after them.  

“You!  Who are you?!”  The voice was light, but unfriendly.  “You’re not in trouble, just stop where you are.”

“Run,” Lewis hissed.  He charged after the others as they crashed back into the light, the hostile scraping sounds of the freezer became wild.  He glanced at the doors as the chain jerked taunt across the marred white metal, with the force it should have snapped long ago.  He prayed the ward held.  “They’ll follow us.  Unless they try to set that thing free.”

“They won’t risk it.”  Vivi raced across the room to the far wall and ran by the pews, toward the drapes Lewis had shown her minutes before.  Lewis followed and Arthur hurried to keep up, beside Arthur’s blurred legs was Mystery.  Vivi saw Mystery, panting and worry written in his eyes.  “You lost the lamp?”

Mystery snapped his teeth.  It was an accident, he panicked!

Lewis took the dusty green curtain and swung it back.  He exchanged hand holds on the curtains, as he reached to the back of his belt, before Arthur and Vivi managed to catch up. “Here.”  He held out the penlight.  Vivi snatched the small flashlight and turned to the grate, it was large for a seepage drain for a basement, but looked almost too small for Lewis to have entered through; however, he often surprised her in odd circumstances.  

The first through was Arthur, slipping through one space in the bars where one of the steel beams had been bent in the crumbling cement floor. Right on After’s heels was Mystery, and behind them Vivi shoved the backpack through.  Arthur caught the bag and slung the straps over his shoulders, he took Vivi by the hand when she was through and heaved her upright beside him.

As the door at the front of the chamber smashed into the wall, Lewis let the drape fall across the grate and shoved his chest through the gap in the bars.  The traitorous bar cracked in its loose fitting within the cement floor but remained wedged tight, Lewis coughed as he slid down and hit the cobblestone.  His hands claw out for a handhold, though the stone was sleek and polished.  The sounds of the intruders, the cultist, whoever, were now in the room.

“The Scripture is gone!”

Vivi grabbed Lewis’ wrist, Arthur took Lewis’ other arm and together they pulled.  “Not helping,” Lewis wheezed.

“You gotta exhale,” Arthur grunts, as he digs his bare heels into the cold cement.  “Now Lew. Now!”

The voice cried out, “The drapes!  There!”

Something in Lewis back ripped as he skid forward onto his face. Mystery yelped with persistent urgency as Lewis lay there, winded and stunned.  “Am I bleeding?”  He tries to turn over and reach for his back where a cold draft gnawed at his spine. When he looked back, his eyes met those of a pale man on the other side of the bars.

“You!”  The man said, eyes narrowing.  “How dare you, I’ll—  Wait! I’m not finished!”

The tunnel was narrow, forcing the quadrat to race in single file.  Vivi led the way with the small penlight directed on their path, and Lewis followed here.  “How did you get in here?” she rasped, as they jogged.

“Well,” Lewis began, trying to recall if he actually found his way in or if he fell.  He had a habit of stumbling into weird hidden areas, like this drainage cellar.  He had to keep his head low or risk scraping his scalp.  “I think I climbed down?”  He felt at his back and thumbed at the tear in his good sweater vest, but at least he wasn’t cut.  Still, it was disappointing ruining another shirt.

“Did you fall?” Arthur asked.

“I’m pretty sure I climbed down,” Lewis said.  “Down.  From a ladder.”  He put his arms out and managed to keep his balance, it was disorientating with Vivi running ahead in the tight tunnel and their only source of light bobbing.  He just needed to keep track of the glittering stone that managed to hold the light where his steps fell.  A brief speck of alarm hit him when he thought that Mystery wasn’t with them, but as Lewis focused he could pick up on the rhythmic patter of the dogs light feet echoing not far behind them.

“What kind of ladder?”  Arthur took a few breaths and smoothed out his rapid breath.  “Did you fall from it?”

“Damnit Arthur!  I didn’t fall!”  Lewis’ shout thundered in the tight curvature of the tunnel, and the group fell into near silence.  Their shoe soles and bare feet, slapped onto the polished cobblestone, Mystery claws pattered in their usual rhythm, but slowed at the back of the group somewhat. “I’m sorry,” Lewis muttered.  He slowed his strides, forcing Arthur behind him to drag out of his jog as Lewis did.  Vivi kept going a ways as she lost momentum under her own pace.  “Think they might try and head us off?”  The light from the penlight glistened over them as Vivi flashed it around.  Lewis held out his hand and Arthur slung off the backpack.

“It’ll take them a bit to get organized.  And get to wherever this chute lets out,” Vivi estimated. She trailed a hand along the ceiling curve, and tapped her fingers as she silently counted to herself in silent calculation.  “Be careful with the laptop.”

“Yes, my dear.”  Lewis stuck the straps over one arm and resumed walking.  “I did apologize, didn’t I Artie?”

Arthur shrugged somewhere in the dark.  “You didn’t need to.”  He moved aside to let Mystery by, and the dog brushed by Lewis to reach Vivi and the light.  “I shouldn’t have been an ass.  Don’t let me be an ass, especially around Viv-vi.” He glanced behind him into the swell of black they left in their wake, the soft comfort of the pitiful penlight retreats with each step.  “Besides, I kind of don’t think they’ll head us off.”

The tunnel was saturated with the stale residue of earth and water, though it was parched of all moisture.  It was a drainage chute for the old cellar, built into the home in response to the heavy rainfall that was common throughout the region.  In some sections of the wall scraggly bursts of roots twisted through the cobblestone, catching at hair and faces if the group wasn’t careful.  

In the midst of Vivi and Lewis discussion of evidence, Mystery stopped mid step and looked back.  “What is it?” Vivi asked.  Arthur stepped aside and turns to look, as Vivi directed the light on the path they had come from.  At their distance the thin light was worthless, and the thick layers of dirt surrounding them were daunting in its immovable way.  Thunderous.  There existed a faint resonance, a delicate clicking.  As they waited, the low twitter weakened.  “We should keep moving.”  Mystery took off first, and Vivi hastened to catch up.

“The opening shouldn’t be much further,” Lewis pants.  If they were still alone, they wouldn’t be for long. Lewis could pick out Arthur stumbling at his back, it was probable Arthur was trying to glimpse into their wake where the sounds originated, or Arthur was fighting to stay in pace despite holding up the rear and receiving the least amount of light at his feet.  A minor detail Lewis had overlooked was that Arthur remained barefoot, but that alone wouldn’t deter Arthur if he suspected genuine danger.

The combined clatter of their rapid footfalls either drowned out the timid tremors, or they left the chatter behind entirely; whatever the case it was progress.  “Wait-wait!” Lewis caught Vivi by her T-shirts back and looked up, where the tunnels ceiling had a circular opening.  “This is it.”

Arthur moved close beside the others and examined the crude ladder in the wall, its surface thick with calcite and rust.  “Where does this come down from?”

“The shower rooms from the east dorms,” Lewis answered.  He reached out and tugged on one of the rungs. “In a closet of all places.”

“This tunnel might’ve served as an escape route,” Vivi added. She angled the frail light into the space of the tunnel not yet ventured in their path.  “Did you get the chance to check down that way?”  A distant rustle or grating clattered over the cold stone walls, the acoustics of the tunnel made it impossible to discern where the sound originated from – it seemed to come from both ends around them. The Mystery Skulls stood in absolute silence, the atmosphere was completely devoid of natural reverberation. Vivi felt her heart pumping in her chest.  It was following them.  “We all… heard that?”

“We shouldn’t be here,” Arthur stutters.  He goes quiet as he stares into the tunnel they had ventured from, into the shriveled boundary of light that followed them.  “Move.  We gotta move.”

“Calm down,” Lewis hissed.  “We’re getting out of here.”

Vivi stuck the penlight between her teeth and leaned down, allowing Mystery to climb onto her back.  She gave the dog a garbled caution around the lights handle in her teeth, before she took the ladders steps and hurried her climb.  The light faded in her ascent and Arthur became edgy in the deepening darkness.

“You next.”  Lewis pushed Arthur to the glittering contours of the choppy metal.  “Don’t look back, just climb.”  Lewis did look back, he didn’t want to but he had to. “Steady Art, don’t fall.”

“You’re telling me to not look back!”  The sharp tinge of iron burned Arthur’s nose, and the rough texture of the ladder wore on his sore tender foot pads.  “Don’t tell me to slow down.”

“I’m telling you to climb and be careful,” Lewis retorts, still staring into the absolute wall growing thicker and closer in his eyes.  It is there – whatever it is – barely visible but it is there and it creeps towards him.  The passive nattering tumbles over the walls but he can’t discern if they’re getting louder, if it is getting closer.  It weaves along the floor and sweeps up hovering beneath where the ceiling must be, but he knows it is only hunched low beneath the ceiling.  “I don’t want you to fall.”  Lewis begins up the ladder crusted steps, his eyes kept constant vigil of the pale wispy thing as it slopes down to the floor and hastens its progress.  “Please don’t fall Artie.”

“You okay, Lew?”  That was Vivi.  Arthur was unnerved by the quiver in Lewis’ voice, but Vivi managed to ask first.  This inquiry was a cousin to another question, but she refused to ask it and Lewis didn’t know if he could manage the lie.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lewis said, assuring with a gentle undertone. Keep calm, stay cool.  They were getting out of the tunnels, it wouldn’t follow. He didn’t want them out of the loop. “Just keep going.”

The passage echoed with Mystery’s barks, the dog voice was strained, alarmed.  Vivi’s voice came under his sharp cry, but Lewis didn’t catch what she said.

“I’m climbing as fast as I can,” Arthur snapped.  “I got dog butt in my face!” The tunnel vibrates with Mystery’s incredulous yaps.

The scratching was below, at the base of the ladder but that was impossible to gauge.  He didn’t want to know but it was getting louder, he couldn’t deny that.

“Can we save the arguing for topside?” Lewis groaned.  Two more rungs of the ladder, and the scratching was right beneath his feet.  “Y’know, for no particular reason.”

“Give me your hand.”  Vivi’s scream was muffled, and the glow of the penlight danced around as she bounced along the horizon of the curved edge.  Arthur’s silhouette swung out of view, over the semicircle side of the open drain.  It was clear, he just needed to climb.  Fast. “Lewis!”

Hands snatch at his ankles.  Gnarled, icy, clammy hands.  “Get out of the way!  Get back!” Lewis howled.  He dragged his sneakers out of the jagged clutches and vaulted up the last few bars of the ladder, the cold stone walls battered his shoulders as he scrambled up over the curved edge.  “It’s coming! It’s coming!  Move!”  The drain was in the floor of the closest, its tight space surrounded by low shelves fitted at the walls, each shelf was stacked with clean linen, towels.  Lewis ducked out from under a low shelf and grabbed in the direction of the light, Vivi squawked when Lewis caught her shoulder and he continued to shove her backwards out through the doorway.  As Vivi went stumbling into a room, Lewis slung the backpack off his shoulder and pushed the bag into her arms.  The fevered barks alerted Lewis before he was aware, that Arthur wasn’t among them.  “Art!”

The insignificant gleam of the penlight caught the whites of Arthur’s eyes, a strangled choke echoed when the scrawny figure dove forward and out of the lights range.  Lewis lashed out catching the soft fabric of the sweater, Lewis thought the strained fabric would rip as he hauled them backwards.  “The door Vi!” Lewis launched away from the closets interior, he felt the wool rip in his fingers but Arthur collapsed with him.  The door cracked in the frame, and the wild movements of the small light dart around the base of the carved wood panel.

There was a pause, Lewis and Arthur groan where they lay. Then came the knocking.

“Shh,” Vivi hushed.  She pressed one hand into the door as the slow knocks came through, a pause between each. She counted them – five, six….  “I don’t think it can enter until it knocks… a certain number of times.”  The backpack had been ‘set’ on the floor beside the door, and now she tore through it seeking out one notebook and a piece of graphite.  

“How long do we have?” Arthur burbled, leaning up and wincing to a pain in his side.  “Vi. We should get out of here.”

“Give me a sec,” Vivi says, distracted.  She flips through the notebook, snapping the pages aside and reading over the jumble of notes overwritten atop early notes.  She kneels against the door with the notebook on her skirted knees, penlight in one hand and the graphite in the other.  “A lil patience will take care of you.”  She mumbled something under her breath and began scrawling the black marks onto the bare space of wood floor before the door.

“That thing didn’t grab you,” Arthur spat.

It wasn’t long before the knocks ceased, the space behind the door projected emptiness, but Vivi finished the rune anyway.  It paid to be thorough.  “Did you get a good look at it?” she asked.

Arthur chuckled nastily as he rose up onto his feet.  “What do you think?”  He jumped when Mystery brushed into his legs, and crushed at his own jumpiness.  “It was dark.”

“What were you trying to do, anyway?”  Lewis tried not to chuckle, he tried.  He pushed himself to his feet and gave the room they had tumbled into another look over, verifying there was no missed company or ‘presence’ lingering in the further edges beyond the dull brush of the light.  It was just the room, void of identity aside from the mounds of dark piles – nondescript furniture.  Arthur wobbled further from the door, into the dark pool of shadows beyond the glows range.

“I was trying to cover the grate,” Arthur replied.  It was too dark to judge where the sofa was exactly, but the side was stuffed cotton that absorbed the blow of his toes.  “It… didn’t look that heavy.”  He cast edgy glances to Vivi as she worked at the floor, the absence of the knocking was disconcerting now.

“It was dark,” Lewis added.  “Is that the same mark from the floors?”

An affirming sound hummed from Vivi. ��“Don’t worry,” she went on, “if it didn’t work, then I would have just salted the door.  I might do that anyway.” She finished the mark, and lay salt along the doors edge for good measure.  “We’re still in danger.”

“Still?” Arthur blurted.  “How do you know that rune will work?  Locking those door didn’t work.”  He threw his arms up and walked around the room, stumbling into another chair. “Damnit.”

“That doesn’t count.”  Vivi shines the light across the room, to Lewis’ shape beside a door across from she and Arthur.  “They must’ve let it out, or they set it on us.”  Mystery joined her as she crossed the room.  “I can dispel this when we reach the van.  We’ll be safe then.”

“You sure?”  Arthur urged. He was still looking at the silent door, probably estimating the length of the unexplored tunnel below.

“Confidence,” Vivi said.  “We know where we are, and where we’re going.”  She was about to say more when the door beside Lewis smashed open, the group collectively winced at the sound and the sudden light that engulfed the room.

“All of you!” the voice at the door bellowed.  The sudden light was blinding, Lewis stumbled back from the intrusion of sound and possible danger.  “Come with us!  Don’t resist.”  A hand snared Lewis by the arm, and he struck out with a right hook.  Lewis didn’t hit a face, but the blow did knock someone down and they crashed onto the floor.

Mystery yapped and hopped onto the sofa in the middle of the room. Vivi blinked the shimmer of white in her eyes away and looked to the dog as he barked and pawed at the cushions. “Lew!  Catch!”  Vivi slung her backpack onto her shoulders, and took up one of the dull olive green cushions.  She tossed it in Lewis’ direction when he backed away from the three tall figures now advancing through their only exit.

The sizable chair cushion was snared between Lewis’ fists, and he swung it out as he pivoted and smashed it across the two nearest men before they had a chance to realize what he was doing with a couch cushion. “Guys!  Run!” Lewis hooted, as he barreled into the group poised in the doorway. Lewis stumbled over the fallen, groaning bodies on the floor and plowed into the next set of people that had stood over them.  The entire hall shook with the force of Lewis colliding a pillow into people and a wall.

“You’ll return the Scripture!” One of the men, dressed in a sweatshirt and khakis, shoved himself up from the floor and caught up to Lewis as Lewis spun to him.  The figure snagged Lewis’ ascot in his fist and yanked.  “You’ll do as I say, or suffer—” His preaching tapered off into a winded gruff when a battle cry from Vivi collided with his lower back, along with her shoulder.  Lewis stumbled sideways, but Vivi caught him by the arm and dragged him into the lit hall after Arthur and Mystery.

“Are we going the right way?” Vivi asked, as they cut around the next corner.  Arthur didn’t slow, but he did pick up the pace.  The doors of the numerous rooms that they whizzed by cackled with voices jabbering on top of each other, groups of missionaries struggling to coordinate and corner the intruders.  Bellowing shouts echoed out, calling across the dorm in a foreign tongue Vivi didn’t recognize.  This was dangerous, she couldn’t discern who was where or what they knew.

“This will lead out,” Lewis answered.  It wasn’t a wrong way, but it was the longer way.  That could work, but it would be tricky.  “But don’t stop!  Whatever happens.”  He used the hand Vivi wasn’t dragging to loosen his ascot from being pulled tight. “That door, the one you just passed!”

Arthur skid on his heels and back peddled to a door, no different from any other, in the hall.  “Huh?” He didn’t bother to wait for Lewis or Vivi, he snapped the polished wood panel back and stared onto the gloomy steps that ascended into the musty atmosphere. “Where does this go?”

“Upstairs,” Lewis said.  He let Vivi go first with Mystery, the sharp glimmer of their light slithered across the ascending steps.  Lewis followed the two, he stepped gently onto the steps as the wood grunted under his weight.  Arthur eased the door shut at his back and followed the dull blaze of the penlight climbing into the thick air about them.  “Take the right, count five doors, one of them is unlocked.”

“And where does that lead us?” Arthur asked.  He hastened up the steps and nearly ran into Lewis, which caused Arthur to throw his arms out and brace himself between the walls or risk toppling backwards.  “Sorry.”

“Better than falling,” Lewis admits.  He pulls Arthur back onto his feet and they continue following Vivi in silence.

The door at the steps top was stiff but made no sound as Vivi pressed it open, she edged the light in the space and Mystery at her shins poked his face out and glanced around.  “The lights are off,” Vivi announced, as she entered into the corridor.  She shined her light among the walls and doors as they began to the right, Mystery’s coat flashed under the beam as he sniffed along.  She counted five unremarkable doors along the tacky wall paper and thick wood panels.  “They still think we’re downstairs.”  Mystery poked his nose at a fallen desk but kept moving.

“There will probably be missionaries outside patrolling,” Lewis spoke. He caught up to Mystery and tries a few doors, but most were locked or jammed in their frames.  “It was the left or the right.  I might’ve gotten turned around.”

A door snapped inward at Vivi’s grip, and she stumbled into the room not anticipating the lack of leverage.  “Here’s one.”  She coughed at the dusty air, her feet slipped over the grungy carpet as she entered into the open space.  Her light revealed little, but some furniture, a bed, and a distinct lack of being lived in.

“Old unused room,” Arthur observed, behind her.

Vivi angled her light to the ceiling, then the walls. Everything had a vague sense of age. “Old forgotten rooms,” she intoned. Clothing and an open suitcase still sat on the vanity, beside one wall of the room.  As she turned the penlight, she caught the glinting frame of a window buried under a film of dirt.

The window was nailed shut.  Lewis frowned at the sides when he attempted to pull the window up, and failed. “We’re gonna have to book it fast,” he warned.  He walked around the bed in the center of the room to reach the vanity, and the chair set before it.  “Everyone ready?”

Arthur sighed as Lewis braced himself beside the window.  “No,” he says, “but let’s get this over with.” He winced when Lewis shoved the chair right through the brittle glass and the old rotten cross frame.  A gush of cool, fresh air swelled into the ancient room disturbing layers of old dust.  Arthur coughed and stuffed his face into the sweaters top.  Vivi was already climbing out.

“Careful of the glass,” Lewis cautioned.  H took Mystery up and slung the dog over one shoulder, but waited at the window as Arthur tiptoed along the floor.  “Vi, the light so he can see.”  Most the glass was in large shards and had managed to scatter outside, down the slates of the rood.  “Just yell if you fall.”  Lewis held out a hand for Arthur, in case.

“Har-har,” Arthur grumbled.  He gripped the frame of the window as he eased himself out, onto the wood planks of the roof.  The temperature had fallen several degrees since they were inside, it didn’t help that the sweater he was wearing now had a big rip in the collar.  Arthur leaned down and set his hands to the roof.  “How are we getting down?”

“This way,” Lewis trailed his hand along the wall of the upper story.  “You’re okay Mystery, I’ve got you.”  The dog wrapped his arms around Lewis’ neck and gazed off, toward the ambiguous location of the ground beyond the roofs edge.  Vivi followed effortlessly, though she managed the light and her shoes were not the best for precarious perches.  The roof jutted our over a porch above the lower dorm, and the support beam of the wooden eave stood beneath the corner of the roof.  Lewis and Vivi perched at the edge staring down into the dark grass.  Vivi had doused the light in her hand to prevent them from being seen but it made it difficult to view what was below.  The lack of activity and sounds was encouraging.  “It looks clear.”  Lewis swung down first, one arm clasped to the roof while the other kept Mystery secure. Arthur followed.  When Lewis set Mystery down, the dog circled around the group and turned his attention off toward the dark blocks of the village dorms.

“We’re on the edge of the village?” Vivi asked.  She dropped down into Lewis’ open arms, and he caught her bridal style and set her back onto her feet.  Vivi kept the light dim as she stepped away from Lewis, and gave their perimeter a short examination.  Through the gloom and lack of moonlight, Vivi was still able to distinguish the rows of buildings from that of the cage of the forest growing around the village. “We came in from off the side, that way.”  She indicated along the outskirts of the dark buildings, aware of the haphazard commotion from within the building they had exited.  “Hurry.”

The forest loomed beneath the dark sky and the collecting thick clouds obscuring what little illumination was present from the cosmos. Arthur could only follow the rustle of his friends and hope for the best.  “We’re going into the woods,” he whispered.  “And we don’t know if that thing is still following us!”

“Probably is,” Vivi pants.  “If that thing was some sort of guardian of the village, the runes are only meant to deter it.  The village as a whole may be in the same danger we are, so no one will follow us.” The light glistened over the blades of grass rushing under their path, the calls and energy of the dorm fade behind them.  “We’ll be safe once we reach the van.”

The fear Arthur felt was justified, and Lewis had his doubts as well but he wouldn’t voice them.  “Mystery will let us know if there’s any danger.”  

Mystery yapped.  The woods were eerie this late in the evening, but it could have been his own nerves betraying his instincts.

“Don’t look back,” Lewis says.  “Keep moving.”  

“I think you said something similar, not long ago,” Arthur commented.  He slowed as they departed the village outskirts and moved towards the muggy breeze trailing through the deep inky woods. Leaves shiver along the grassy carpet, while above the tree branches moan as the wind jostled the rough limbs.  It brought back his memories of the hanging tree, and Arthur rubbed at his sore wrists as he dithers from entering the thick cover of the trees contrasting the night sky.

Mystery halts in his tracks, prompting Vivi and Lewis to turn back. “It’ll work out,” Vivi offered. “But it’s not safe to stop for too long.”  

Lewis gestured to Arthur.  “C’mon, don’t get left behind.  You don’t want to get lost tonight.”

Mystery pivots and barked at the open air.  A direction to follow.  

With a groan, Arthur resumed his pace and they entered the woods. “Just creepy woods,” Arthur says. “But I have never been in a wood grove before with some many tiny, sharp rocks.”  He hissed as his toe caught on what felt like a root, but Arthur’s feet were stiff and numb.  “My brains asking if I’m still sane, my feet are screaming ‘WHY?’”

“You want me to carry you?” Lewis offered.

Arthur snorted, and declined the offer.  “If I fall dead from blood loss, then yeah, go ahead,” he grumbled. “Not before then.”  He winced but not from some vague piece jamming into the arch of his foot, he had heard something beyond their pants and footfalls but Arthur wasn’t sure.  It didn’t sound any more specific than a tree branch cracking, or the leaves rustling, though there was no cool breeze about them.  Keeping going.  Don’t stop.

At length Vivi snapped on the penlight, once they were a presumably safe distance from the village.  They moved in silence focused on the odd sounds in the old woods, a constant twitter and scraping moved through the thin brush among the trees. Sometimes the sound of hooves would thud at the soft earth, but the sound was always near and Vivi never could pinpoint exactly where.  They didn’t want to speak of the sounds, but presumed that something was there but for whatever reason or compulsion, it could not reach them.  At odd times Mystery would bark and sniff at something unseen, and at other pauses Arthur thought he saw a pale figure melting among the bars of the tall tree trunks that engulfed them.

By the time they reached the van, parked in a small clearing just off the road, they were exhausted.  Vivi fell down in shock when the light flashed over the bright yellow hull, stabbing out through the thick tangle of shrubs and trees that bordered the clearing.  She managed to stay on her feet for the last few yards to the vehicles side and used it to support her weight.

“Who has the key?” Vivi gasped. She stood beside the back door and tried the handle, though that was pointless.  “Please don’t tell me we lost the keys.”  She turned the penlight on the door when Lewis emerged from the shadows, going through his pockets.  Lewis hands shook as he took the key and shoved it into the lock of the backdoor. Vivi made no comment.

“Viola,” Lewis praised, as he pulled the two doors open.  Mystery and Vivi didn’t waste time getting inside. “Quick Art, you’re almost there. Stumble faster.”

Arthur struggled to climb up the bumper into the vans back. “You’re one to talk.”  Vivi grabbed Arthur’s hands and hauled him in. “Not so rough, Vi!  My feet.”

“I forgot you lost your shoes,” Lewis mentioned.  “You didn’t show it.”  He pushed Arthur in and joined the group, closing and locking the door after him.  Pale blue light glittered over the interior of the van, brightening and defining the inner walls and the few cuvees.  “Are we safe?”

“That’s not the question that needs asking,” Vivi replied. She was still trying to catch her breath.  She handed the flashlight to Arthur where he was nestled by the back of the bench seat, and he angled the light at the roof of the van.  “The van is our home field advantage, we have power here.  That makes us safe, but not enough.”  Vivi crouched beside one wall went through the slots for items, charms, essentials.  “What will work is to remove the curse from this book.  Or… something.”

The light pulsed around the room, flashing sporadically until Arthur found a space in the floor among some blankets where he could wedge the handle. “Reassuring,” he says, under his breath. He pulls the first aid box out from under the driver’s seat and goes through the container, shoving aside crumpled band aid wrappers and half used up gauze rolls until he finds the bottle of antiseptic.  He winces as he applies the cold liquid to the raw spots on his heels.  “So are we cursed?”

“The book is,” Vivi answers.  She pulled the tome out of the backpack and set it on the center of the vans floor. “It’s filled with the names of the missing families.”   Mystery sat beside Vivi and stared at the book, one ear tilted and his brows fixed in a scowl.

“But why?” Lewis inquires. He sat across from Vivi cross legged, studying the withered surface.  “The books protected for all those names, I get that.  But why?”

“Some kind of ritual.”  Vivi flipped the cover open and examined the first pages, turning each in turn slowly, careful of the thin texture.  “In some cultures, names are a precious gift that must be guarded.”  She fumbled with her backpack and freed one of the notebooks.  “It’s ill-advised to give your name so freely when asked.  You don’t know what someone might do with it.”

“Cool,” Lewis piped.  “So… that would be a valid reason to protect a—” He paused when a sound came. The van was in near silence, aside from Arthur digging around in the first aid box and Vivi’s narration. Strange noises had followed them all evening, always at a careful distance.  Scratching and whispers.

There came a knock on the door, faint with a pause between each rap. No one said a word.  A low whine rose up beside the seat of the van, where Arthur was laying.  The knocks began again.

Lewis cursed and turned to the wall of the van, searching in the cuvees.  Vivi hissed at him, and handed over one of the sage bundles she carried in her backpack. He fished the lighter from his pocket and gave it a hard slap over his knee.  The gray leaves burn red, Lewis blows the flame out and fans the tendrils of smoke over the surface of the door.

“I’m going to assume this thing can’t enter unless we open a door?” Lewis posed.  “What’s the catch?”  He twists around to a new knocking, on the side of the van.  “Damn.”

“It can’t get in.”  Arthur sat up and stares at the wall where the soft tapping echoed.  “It can’t get in!  The windows!”

Lewis dropped the sage he was holding.  “Markers!  Where’d we put the markers?  Do we even have markers?”  There were no markers, but he did locate a box of paints.  He tore the container apart as he vaulted over the bench seat. “What was the barrier rune you copied?”

Vivi leaned over the seat and handed Lewis the notebook.  “Art, help me build some shielding circles,” she urged.  “Get the salt and some candles, quick.”

“We’re doing this?” Arthur yelped.  “In the van?  Really?” Mystery yapped at him, and turned pawing at the wall of the van.  “Is this the only way?”  He jerked forward on his knees when Vivi grabbed him by the front of the sweater.

“We’ll clean it up later,” she hissed, voice strained.  “Like it never happened.  But you’re gonna have to keep it together, and help us through this. Get the salt, some candles, and more sage.  It won’t be so bad, you’ll see.  Stay calm, make some nice circles.  You can do this.”

“Okay, yeah.”  He nods. “No problem, I got this.”  Arthur pulled the sweater front out of Vivi’s grip and followed Mystery as the dog nosed at the walls.  “How’s it going Lew?”  Arthur jumped back when the knocking thuds through the wall directly in front of him.  It might’ve broken him from the panic momentarily, but he really didn’t want to see what Lewis was doing to the windows.

“About as good as you’d expect,” Lewis hummed.  He did the two side windows first, dipping his fingers into the jar of black paint and making as neat of pictures as he could manage, with only the little light available that glistened off the sleek paint.  A graceful curl ended the last mark, then he moved to the windshield.  “I’ll be back in a sec to help with whatever you guys need.”  A hard bang came from the passenger door right at his elbow and he recoiled, nearly spilling the paint.  “Fuck.”  He recovered and dabbed his finger back into the jar and leaned onto the dashboard. It was confining and difficult to maneuver in, but there was no better position to work beneath the large window.

“Make a circle here, and here.  Mystery, you sit there.”  Vivi indicated a small circle of salt that Arthur had traced out.  Hard banging began to vibrate through the roof of the van, as if a parade had descended upon their heads.  Vivi glanced up, the knocking was coming from almost every surface of the vehicle, it sounded like the ceiling and walls would cave in under the force of the clamor.  “Hurrying would be advisable.”

Arthur was about to pick up the tome but hesitates and glanced to Vivi.  “Are we gonna set marks on the floor?”

“I don’t think it would help,” Vivi admits.  She takes the book and sets it in a circle and places another circle of salt around it.  “Sage.” Arthur hands her one of the bundles he carries, and Vivi checked their vicinity.  “The lighter?”

Lewis sprang down between Mystery and Arthur.  “I need a ward scripture.  Do we still have any?” he asks, as he set the container of paint aside.  “Keep your hands steady, Artie.  I always envy your circles.”  He hands the notebook over to Vivi, and takes the long sheet of rice paper Mystery offered. “Thanks?”  The dog shoved his paw over the blank page, pressing it into the floor, then returns to his spot in the circle where Vivi set a small carved stone figurine.

“You have the lighter?”  Vivi sways on her knees as the van began to shake, not rock.  The sharp blows became stronger, more fevered. Whatever plagued them, connected to the book, was steadily becoming aware of their intentions.  

“Give me a sec,” Lewis utters, as he fumbles with the thin sheet. A few circles, thin sharp lines, Lewis dabs at the paint bottle and finishes the sign on the rice page, all while he digs at his pocket with his free hand.  He produces the lighter and clicks it open and raises the flame to burn the end of the sage Vivi held.  She thanked him, and set the bundle upon the book and spoke calm words, despite the din crashing through their eardrums.  

Lewis swopped to the back of the van and pinned the stained ward script between the doors, by binding the corner and jamming it into the crease between the metal doors met.  He used the last of the paint on his hand to inscribe a mark near the roof. Arthur wouldn’t notice.

“These need to be lit,” Arthur mentions, when Lewis shuffled back over. He shoves a couple candles into Lewis hands, and gives a short shriek in the same breath when a hard crash bellows in the vans wall.  The clatter had risen and sounded more like rocks were being slammed over the metal sides, while the carriage continued to sway on its wheels.  “How are there so many of them?  Shouldn’t it just be one?”

“It’s just a desperate illusion,” Lewis rasped.  “Don’t let it get to you, they can’t get in.”  He recognized the Latin in Vivi’s voice, but he had only a vague idea of what she would be saying.  Regardless, it always sounded beautiful despite their perile when she wove her words and sang compulsion or harmony, for the restless and lost souls, reeling them through the rift between existence and null until those with lingering ties to redemption could find their way.  Without further comment he began lighting candles and struggling to set them upright, despite the violent motions of the floor. They would only need a few. “Remember, Art.  They’re trying, but these barrier spells will stop them. Uh, Vi?  We’re trying to… dispel the book, right?”

“We’re purifying it,” she says.  “For our protection and those that may encounter it when we leave off.” Mystery set his bandaged paw on the book and glanced to his friends; Arthur cringed under the raging sounds and Lewis lit candles, giving sharp glances to the girl and dog with each wick lit and set.  “Sever that from the ties to this book, and whatever law binds it to our world.” Vivi went to the side of the van and went through the cuvees along the low wall. She located a jar of soil and returned to the halo of glimmering candles surrounding the book.  One candle tipped over, and Arthur snatched it and set it back upright.

“Here.”  Lewis held a lit candle and carved into the wax with the edge of the lighter. “This’ll protect you.”

Arthur glanced dubiously at the ordinary, dollar candle that Vivi always bought whenever the chance came along.  “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?” Lewis’ smirk was comforting though.

“That would be cheap,” Lewis assured.  “But it wouldn’t hurt you to believe that, either.  C’mon Arthur, I’m right here.”  Lewis took another candle and did the same, carving a shallow symbol into the wax.  He sat between Arthur and Vivi, in one of the circles that had been made.  

Vivi spoke incantations, beseeching no ill will of whatever kept the tome guarded.  The rapping on the van swelled to thundering levels, until Mystery’s ears ached and the group didn’t know how much more they could take.  Mystery buckled and bent his ears back, but even that didn’t subside the roar of wallops of clatter coming all at once.  “Hang in there,” Vivi whispered.  She resumed her low speak.  “Don’t look at the windshield,” she warned Arthur.  “Focus on the candle flames.”  Then Vivi smiled at him.  She took the jar of dirt and unscrewed the lid, from it she took a handful and sprinkled a small amount of the soil over the books surface, and across the burning bit of brush leaves.

“The call is gone, the binding severed,” Vivi spoke.  “Put your hand on Mystery’s.”  Vivi set the notebook she had referred to aside, and plucked up a candle.  Arthur stared at her, confused. He barely got out a sound as Vivi took his free hand and set it over Mystery’s bandaged paw.  He and Mystery shared a glance, before the dog resumed his concentration. “Lew.”  Lewis set his hand over Vivi’s.  “By our will, we dismiss your malice.  Our will holds strong, unbroken, and you will submit by our decree.”  She spoke words, beckoning the force that hounded the van. “Be gone I say, be gone.”

Arthur relaxed a bit as Vivi continued, chanting gently.  He took a breath and shut his eyes.  “We dismiss you,” he murmured, repeating her words to the best of his ability.  He paused when Vivi hummed a prayer, and resumed when her voice came firm rising as the bashing on the walls persisted harder and faster.  “By our will, we are stronger.  No challenge, no malice.  Your chained is severed.”  Vivi tightened her hand over Arthur’s.  “Be gone. Be gone.”

Vivi brought the candle down and lit the corner of the book. “Your chain is severed.  Your license above those given over to you is undone,” she hummed.  “Return to the derivation.  Do no more harm and depart in no ill will.”  She jerked her hand back, and the group collectively recoiled when a wild burst of fire tore across the surface of the tomes cover and flared briefly. The display lastes a short moment, and all together the tremendous clatter plaguing the metal walls ceased, aside from a few far between and weak bumps around the sides.  The soft crackle of embers bristle with an olive glow as the flame settles over the hard surface of the tome and diminished completely, the sage bundle upon the blackened surface reduced to ash.  “Return to wince you were called,” she whispered.  “Be gone.”

They repeat the mantra over and over as the thudding on and at the metal sides begins to slow with each passing minute.  “Be gone, the bond is severed.”  The sounds become distant and the rocking of the carriage ceased. “Be gone, your time is done. Leave in no ill will.”  Frail rapping, like the first of the knocks that had occurred, persists at the back door of the van.  Lewis fixed his tense gaze upon the barrier ward as the knock continues, slower paced.  “No longer tethered, return to what once was.  Be gone, be gone.”  

The air becomes still, the warm fragrance of sage and burning wax lazes in the small interior of the van and only the breathing of the group is audible.  Arthur opens his mouth to speak, but Vivi holds up her hand with the candle and turns her attention away.  They wait. Mystery grumbles something under his breath and perks his ears.

Sudden rapid trotting races into their hearing, as if cutting through the solid walls of the van and into the midst of their small perimeter. Lewis throws his arms around the group shielding them from no visible force, before an ear splitting Crash! collides with the wall nearest to Vivi’s side. The van heaves sideways on its wheels, metal groaned as it rocked and their gear slide across the floor around the huddled group.  The candles topple over, most going out leaving only the blue light of the flashlight to trail over the sharp contours of the walls.  Somewhere beyond their protected zone, a shrill screeching rose up and the clawing panic of a body thrashed in the leaves.  This went on for some undefined length of time, what felt like hours, before they realized it.  The serenity of the night had resumed.  Even then, they hadn’t found the strength to uncoil off the floor.

This continued over the course of the night.  Vivi whispering prayers and occasionally burned the cover of the book, though the flame never penetrated the withered binding all the way, and never once harmed the delicate pages within.  This only reinforced her harsh treatment of the Scripture, until at last a page caught light and only then did Vivi cease the flames and set the candle she held aside.  Never did she pause in her words, or falter in her hymn as the night wore on.  

The first to fall into fidgety slumber was Arthur, taxed by wandering barefoot and left in the open air for hours before he could be rescued. Occasionally, Lewis would repeat along with Vivi the chant she spoke and restock the sage when it burned down. The noises never returned but a false atmosphere of respite had settled on the unsteady night, and a hard tension like electrical residue clung over the cold candles abandoned on the floor.  

In the dawn hours Arthur awoke now and then, stirred from nightmares of a pale figure standing at the end of a decrepit hall waiting for him, eyes hollow.  It never did anything, it only stood and waited and watched.  When the haze of light finally crept around the dark marks dried in the windshield, he was able to locate where Vivi had curled up on the floor in a mess of salt with her protector, Mystery, curled up in a tight bundle with his soft fur pressed into her head.  Maybe Lewis had fallen asleep sitting upright, but he never faltered from his stern vigilance of the vans back doors from where the knocks had first stemmed the night before.

[providentially-demonic]

Miraculous Mystery Skulls

First Arc: a Spellcaster, a Ghost and a Mechanic walk into a bar Paris

Summary: On their honeymoon in Paris, the City of Lights, the trio of Vivi, Lewis and Arthur encounter more than sightseeing... in the form of monsters, supervillains and a pair of teen superheroes. Sometimes, miraculous things can happen, when you least expect it.

(A Mystery Skulls/Miraculous Ladybug crossover event)

A/N: This all started with this fic by @phantoms-lair and the silly idea of them running into Chat Noir and Ladybug while there. It grew...

It’s a tale of heroes, miraculous, found family and more (with a healthy dose of puns). Co-created and written with assistance from @phantoms-lair, so she deserves some of the credit and a lot of the blame! :P

Chapter One: Strays on the Balcony

"Mmmnn?" Arthur stirred from sleep, aware that something was different.  Lewis was warm beside him, but holding himself absolutely still, head cocked as if listening to something. There was an absence on his other side, cool sheets indicating that they has been vacant a while.

Lewis laid a finger across his lips and inclined his head toward the balcony doors of their hotel room.  There were voices out there and only one of them was Vivi's.

Arthur strained to hear, but it wasn't until Lewis gently cupped the side of his face, fingers too warm against his skin, that he could hear clearly. Lewis must have had a deadbeat eavesdropping, and was channeling it to him through his touch.

" — not safe here, ma'am." The voice was young but spoke perfect English, though accented in a way that said it was not their first language.

Another voice, feminine and equally as young, spoke in French. Through Lewis, he could get a sense of the words.  "Something doesn't feel right about this. It doesn't quite feel like an—” Arthur could not understand the last word and knew it wasn't one Lewis knew either.

The first voice replied in French. "It doesn't smell like one either, but it's weird. Not— not human. It smells like a fire, almost. But one with something cooking on it. But it doesn't smell at all like—”

Vivi had obviously had enough of a conversation she could only partially understand. "I think you should tell me what you think is going on to bring a cat burglar and a— a spotted fire hydrant to my hotel room at this hour.  And preferably before my husbands wake up."

"What did she just call me—?!" The feminine voice scaled up a notch. "And are you sure she even speaks English right, because it sounds like she's uses the wrong possessive. A plural one!"

"Milady, calm down." The first voice entreated.

"Waiting for an explanation," Vivi said, her tone just this side of icy.

Arthur figured he should try and defuse the situation. He rose from the bed, Lewis getting up with him and donning his sunglasses.

Clad only in sleep pants and a white t-shirt (sloppily knotted over the stump of his left shoulder), Arthur padded to the balcony doors. Lewis remained behind him, a hand on his scarred shoulder. It was both support and a way for Arthur to know what was being said. He appreciated Lewis's thoughtfulness.

He stepped through the gauzy curtains and into the cool night air. Vivi, clad in a hotel bathrobe over her sleep shorts, had her hands on her hips and an annoyed expression. She was confronting— well, Arthur wasn't sure who they were supposed to be, besides awfully young to be perched on the balcony railing at half past two.

The boy, with a tumble of unruly blond hair, was dressed in a very feline themed black suit that looked like leather but was clearly not, and crouching on the rail with deceptive ease. Beside him was a girl, all in red with numerous black spots. Her hair was pulled back into two ponytails and she was staring at Vivi with a mutinous expression. Both were masked with half masks and the boy held a baton in clawed gloves. The girl didn't appear to be armed but Arthur had his doubts about that.

"Vivi?" Arthur kept his tone light. "Who are your guests?"

Vivi's grin was sharp as glass. "I found a couple of strays."

"Vivi," Lewis's expression was one of mild curiosity, and even the rebuke barely qualified as one.

Vivi's cheeks puffed out in a frustrated sigh. "Dipped if I know. They popped up when I wandered out for a breath of fresh air and only one of them speaks English. He's been going on about us being in danger."

~~~~~

“We believe we sense an akuma in here, and we need to purify it,” Chat explained in English.

It was like a switch flipped, the blue woman went from confused to aggressive. Chat was fairly certain she'd been empty-handed, but suddenly there was a frost-tinged baseball bat in her hands. "You can't have him," she hissed.

Ladybug and Chat leapt back, Ladybug shooting out her yoyo to try and pull the bat out of her hands. In response the large man seemed to suddenly to catch fire, especially his hair and hands.

"Their weapons are magic, Arthur! Stay back!" The lady called out, and the one armed blond took a step back, but seemed unwilling to leave.

Chat looked over the fiery guy. He was obviously the akumatized one, but there was no obvious weapon for the akuma to be hiding in. The most likely thing would be the golden heart he wore prominently, so that what he was aiming for. His lady was tied up with the bat lady, so it was up to him.

~~~~

Arthur felt his heart jump into his throat when he saw the presumably magical claws aiming for Lewis's anchor. He dashed back into the room, looking for something— anything—  he could use as a weapon. His eyes fell on a screwdriver he was using for some arm repairs and he grabbed it, not noticing the dark butterfly that landed on the screwdriver as he did.

Your lovers need protecting. I will give you the power to save them, Loose Screw, and all you have to do is bring me Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculouses.

~~~~

"Get the fuck out of my head!"

The battle on the balcony froze at the cry. Lewis and Vivi rushed into the room, with Chat Noir and Ladybug right on their heels. Arthur was clutching a darkly glowing screwdriver, the Hawkmoth mask around his face. However, rather than transforming, he was thrashing around, shouting obscenities at the voice in his head.

"He's fighting it off." Chat Noir said in wonder. He'd never seen anyone fight off Hawkmoth.

"He can't fight forever," Ladybug said grimly. "We need to get to the screwdriver."

"Artie, hold on." Lewis grabbed Arthur when he started banging his head against the wall and hugged him tightly to keeping him from hurting himself.

"The akuma's in the screwdriver," Chat said in English. "We need to break it so Ladybug can purify it."

Vivi shot him a suspicious look, but turned to Lewis. "Hold his arm out so the screwdriver's extended."

Lewis did so and Vivi brought up her bat, frost gathering on the edge, and slammed it down. The screwdriver shattered with a release of dark power and a butterfly oozing corruption fluttered out. Ladybug snapped it up as Arthur slumped over, no longer fighting the possession.

"Did I hurt anyone?" Arthur asked weakly.

"No, you fought it off completely. I've never seen anyone fight off an akuma before." Chat explained.

"That was what you called an akuma?" Vivi asked.

"It's what an akuma is, a butterfly tainted by Hawkmoth and used to turn people into monsters."

"Oh," Vivi bit her lip. "In Japan it means something different..."

~~~~

"Bye bye, little butterfly," Ladybug said softly, releasing the purified butterfly.

"It's looks like there's been a bit of a linguistic misunderstanding." Chat said softly.

"But your English is nearly perfect." She was honestly impressed that the carefree Chat was so fluent in a second language.

"Not English, Japanese." he explained. "In Japan 'Akuma' means a fire spirit, in particular one with fiery hair and eyes," They looked at the large glowing-eyed figure whose hair was still flickering. "When I said we were here to purify one, she thought I was saying we were here to exterminate her husband."

~~~~

Arthur sagged to the floor, his legs too shaky to hold him. Lewis knelt with him, still cradling Arthur’s shoulders.

Vivi rushed over. "Arthur!"

He dredged up a smile for her. " ’M okay, Vi. Just shaken up. That was—”

Vivi squished him to her in a tight hug. "You fought it off, love. You did great."

The cat-suited boy dropped into an easy crouch. "Forgive the misunderstandings. I'm called Chat Noir. My lady, Ladybug, and I defend Paris from a villain called Hawkmoth. The Akuma are his. He manipulates people with them, as he attempted to do just now." He explained in English.

Vivi only glanced at him, most of her attention on Arthur.

"To be honest, we have never seen anyone fight off his Akuma so successfully. He manipulates his victim’s emotions with them." Chat waved a hand at the restored screwdriver. "Each victim has a focus item that must be destroyed, and the Akuma in it must be purified."

Vivi shuddered. "Linguistic misunderstanding or not, hearing that makes my skin crawl." She gripped one of Lewis's hands, her other arm still tucking Arthur against her chest, and turned her attention fully to Chat Noir. "If he ever comes near my boys again, he'll be the deadest villain in Paris. He thinks he can interrupt our honeymoon without having his ass kicked into next week—!”

Arthur patted her hand where it gripped his shirt. "Easy, tiger.”

Vivi was having exactly none of it. “No. Not only did he screw up our honeymoon, but— but he tried to—”

“But he didn’t,” Arthur reminded her gently. “You guys—” He lifted his eyes to the two superhero youths. “All of you, stopped him before—”

“Don’t dismiss your own part in this,” Chat Noir interrupted. “You fought his influence off, and that’s no easy thing.”

Arthur shuddered, his skin crawling. “I— I was possessed before, once, and—” His hand came up to clutch his shoulder and his breath caught in his throat.

“Breathe, Arthur,” Lewis chided softly, pulling Arthur’s hand away from his shoulder. “Deep breaths.”

“Let’s just say something bad happened,” Vivi finished grimly, resting her hand on Arthur’s chest, just over his heart.

It took Arthur a moment to compose himself. “I wasn’t going to let that happen again. I— I would have—” His eye fell on the screwdriver lying on the floor and his skin prickled with goosebumps.

“And this Hawkmoth would be nothing but a greasy burn mark if you had.” Lewis picked up the screwdriver and stuffed it in a pocket.

Arthur relaxed a little.

"I think we should talk." Vivi looked up. "No one with that kind of ability should be terrorizing an entire city. And he just earned himself a couple of implacable enemies with tonight's trick."

"I understand, but you don't have Miraculous to battle him. It requires Milady's miraculous to purify his—” Chat Noir cast a glance at Lewis and amended himself. "To banish his influence from those he has Akumatized."

Vivi snorted. "We're not exactly without weapons ourselves, as you have seen."

Arthur made an ugly sound, partially laughter and part something he didn't want to name, even to himself. "Speak for yourself. " He gestured at his shoulder. "I'm kinda unarmed."

Chat's eyes widened and he stifled surprised laughter.

The girl looked a little annoyed and she muttered something that sounded uncomplimentary, but without Lewis concentrating on him Arthur didn’t understand her.

Vivi made a displeased sound. “Okay, this is getting old. We need to talk, and relying on translation is taking up time I think would be better spent elsewhere.” She pointed imperiously at the table and chairs that occupied one corner of the suite. “You two sit. I gotta see if I can still remember this spell.”

The girl, Ladybug, seemed mutinous, but settled at a touch from Chat. They sat at the table while Vivi fetched the still mostly-full ice bucket and centered it on the small table. She concentrated for a moment, holding her hand over the ice. Pale frost sparkled on the air for a moment and then she lowered her hand to touch the ice. She pulled it away and nodded to Chat. “Touch the ice too, bare skin please. For as long as the ice lasts, we’ll be able to talk to each other. I gave it my knowledge of English, and you will provide the French.”

With a glance over at Ladybug, Chat peeled off one of his gloves and placed pale fingers on the ice.

Vivi nodded at Ladybug. “Say something, please. I want to make sure it worked.”

“I’ve never heard of magic like that.” Ladybug exclaimed. “Wait, I understood everything you said!” She leaned forward to squint at the ice. “How did you do that?”

Vivi chuckled. “A basic translation spell, using the ice as a medium. Ice works best for me, though my teacher uses fire.”

With Lewis’s help, Arthur dragged himself back to his feet, moving to take a seat at the table. “Well, that makes things a bit easier. Thanks, Vi.” He leaned over to give her a brief kiss.

Ladybug glanced between them. “So your English wasn’t messed up! You really are married... to both of them?”

“We are,” Arthur answered. “All three of us together, though the papers are only between Vivi and I since it’s hard to get a marriage license for a ghost.”

Ladybug’s eyes went wide and she leaned as far back in her chair as she could. “G-ghost?”

Lewis sighed and let his human shape go, reverting to the skeletal form that had been his for the past three years. “Boo.”

Ladybug eeped and her chair would have gone over backwards if Chat had not steadied it. She drew her knees up in front of her chest. “A ghost,” she repeated. “I—”

Arthur managed a dry chuckle. “Believe me, he’s spectral. I’d say he—”

Lewis clapped a bony hand over his mouth. “Arthur, I swear, if you say the ghost with the most one more time—”

“I was going to say hauntingly handsome.” Arthur grinned obnoxiously. It felt good to be able to tease Lewis, to chase away some of the cold dread the feeling of the attempted possession had left behind.

Chat burst out in laughter, earning a half-dismayed look from Ladybug. “Don't you dare!” She flailed her hands in a desperate attempt to keep him quiet.

“Milady, I would never ghoul so low. Such accusations haunt me.” Chat's grin was puckishly delighted.

“Arrrggghhh!” Ladybug buried her face in her hands.

Vivi covered her mouth to stifle an unbecoming snort of laughter.  "Oh my God, Arthur, why didn't you tell me there were two of you?"

Arthur raised an amused eyebrow.  "You know very well that there's only one of me. But he has a fine turn of proper punsmanship."

Ladybug groaned. "I should've stayed in bed..."

"Speaking of bed," Lewis added, resuming his human guise.  "Forgive me if this seems out of place to ask, but how old are you? You seem awful young for this."

"Being a hero knows no age," Chat Noir struck a pose in his chair.

Beside him, Ladybug rolled her eyes at his antics but answered with frank honesty.  "It's not really a matter of choice. My miraculous is the only thing that can undo Hawkmoth's manipulations. Chat can battle the Akumatized people, but he can't undo what happens; can't purify the effects of Hawkmoth's Akuma."

"So you're kids," Vivi's tone was cold and flat. "This Hawkmoth has a lot to answer for."

"It— the miraculous came to us. That had nothing to do with him," Ladybug was flustered. "My kwami bonded with me. I care for her."

Arthur rose to his feet, but only moved so far as to crouch between Ladybug and Chat Noir's chairs. "We're not saying you don't, and there's nothing wrong with that. But—  If Hawkmoth weren't here, you wouldn't have had to step up and fight him, kwami or not. That he has to answer for."

Ladybug chewed on her lower lip, but couldn't meet his eyes.

Chat Noir made a sort of growling sound in the back of his throat. "I don't care that I have to battle with Hawkmoth's Akuma, I'm not giving up my miraculous or my freedom."

"Chat?" Ladybug turned to him. "What? You never—”

Chat looked like a guilty cat, his black ears canted back and flattened a bit. "It's nothing, Milady. Pretend you never heard that."

It was clear from her expression Ladybug would not forget his words anytime soon, and frankly, Arthur had his doubts that any of them would let that slip go unnoticed. Vivi's storm-cloud eyes had darkened and her lips were pressed into a thin line. Lewis looked like he was contemplating whether to serve Hawkmoth en flambé or very, very extra crispy.

Ladybug chewed the corner of her lip again, and then cautiously rested her hand on Chat Noir's arm. He jumped a little and then patted her fingers gently.

Vivi puffed out her cheeks with a sigh. "I'm gonna let it go for now, but you can be sure we're gonna talk more about this age thing once we've done something about Hawkmunch."

Ladybug drew her hand back and glanced up at Vivi.  "Why do you want to help so much? Sure, he attacked your— your husband, but he's free now."

Lewis leaned forward in his chair, his dark sclera making his gaze even more penetrating. "But things could have been worse... have been worse. It's not just that he attacked Arthur, though we don't forgive that easily, it's that he's doing this to others, over and over. And he won't stop until we— all of us— find a way to stop him."

A pensive expression crossed Ladybug's face and she looked back at Chat Noir. "Can the two of us speak privately for just a moment. Just for a few minutes, I swear. It's kinda important."

Vivi didn't look pleased, but assented with a nod. "Don't try to cut us out of this, though. You need our help. And I'd rather we work as a team than be at odds." She gestured toward the bedroom of the suite.

~~~~

Ladybug closed the door behind them and leaned against it with a heavy sigh.

"Milady?"

She pursed her lips and took in the bedroom. There was a folded dividing screen by the wardrobe and she hurried over to extend it. "We really need our kwami's advice on this, so that means we'll have to unmask. I'll be behind this with you on the other side. I'm going to trust that you won't peek and you'll have to do the same."

Chat's usual smirk dropped away. "I would trust you with my identity and more."

"I know, but let's keep our secrets for now."

She retreated behind the screen and took a deep breath. "Tikki, spots off." Her costume vanished and Tikki swirled into existence by her shoulder.

On the other side of the screen she heard Chat command, "Plagg, claws in."

She waited a few seconds before speaking. "Tikki, I know you two heard everything. We need your help. What do you think of them... and their offer of help?"

She heard a grumble from the other side of the screen and then, "What is it with you two? Jeez. They want to help, and frankly at least two of them are powerful enough to give Hawkmoth real problems. So why not let them?"

"Plagg," Tikki scolded.

"What? You're the trusting one here. What do your instincts say? I can't be the only one who thinks this is a good thing!"

Ladybug had to admit her kwami looked conflicted. Tikki hummed a frustrated sound and spun in a circle around her head. Ladybug offered a hand and Tikki settled into her palm with another grumble. "I don't know," she said at last. "In— in all our history, we've only ever looked to the other miraculous bearers to aid us. But now, one of us is held by the enemy and forced to act against his nature, and no matter what we do, we haven't been able to free him."

“Tikki...”

“Listen here, bright eyes. Yeah, maybe that’s the way it’s always been, but like you said, this is a new situation. We haven’t been able to do anything the way we used to, so maybe if we have some help from new sources, we can actually do something. We could stop Hawkmoth and save his kwami.” Tears prickled behind Ladybug’s eyelids at Plagg’s impassioned declaration.

“I agree with Plagg.” Chat’s voice was firm. “Maybe it’s time to try something new, Milady.”

Tikki sighed and shook her head. “I really don’t know if this is for the best, but I’m willing to try. We’ve been stuck in this impasse with Hawkmoth for way too long and I’m worried for his kwami.”

Ladybug cuddled Tikki close to her cheek for a moment. “Then we’re agreed, all of us. Maybe they can really help us.”

“We’ll never know if we don’t try, Milady. Shall we go talk to them, see if there’s some planning to do?”

“Tikki, spots on!” When the transformation was done, Ladybug nodded firmly. “Let’s go, kitty.”

~~~~

When the door had closed behind the two costumed heroes, Lewis turned and suddenly gathered Vivi and Arthur tight against his chest.

“Ooof, Big Guy!” Arthur didn’t struggle, only looked with concern at Lewis. “What’s up? You okay there?”

“Am I okay? You— you were the one—?” Lewis squeezed tighter, at a loss for words.

Arthur sighed. “I’m okay, love. Sure it scared the piss out of me at the time, but it’s over, and now that I know his modus operandi you can bet he’ll never get a hold on me again.”  

Vivi burrowed into Arthur’s side inside Lewis’s fierce hold and growled under her breath. “Never again.”

Lewis felt a tug on his mind, one of his deadbeats. He hadn’t been paying attention to them after the attack on Arthur and he reached out to it, concerned.

Suddenly he was there, in the bedroom, looking from the perspective from behind the potted fern in the corner. The two heroes each stood on one side of the dividing screen and as he watched, they banished their disguises, becoming two teens and two small, floating creatures.

Vivi stiffened beside him. “They’re just kids!” Her voice was tight with outrage and Lewis realized he had inadvertently shared the deadbeat’s perceptions with them. ”So young!”

“Too damn young.” Arthur growled.

Lewis agreed with every word. These children were defending their city from a supervillain! He felt his hair start to flicker and tamped down hard on the rage. He wasn’t going to let himself lose control. Not again.

~~~~

Lewis was still simmering by the time the two superheroes had emerged from the conference, but at least he had gained enough control to keep his hair from going all fiery. Arthur let Lewis cling to him, both for his own peace of mind and to keep Lewis grounded.

Vivi had put on her professional mask to hide her thoughts, and she only gestured them over, "Have you come to a decision?" Her smile was all politeness and Arthur thought someone that didn't know her as well as they did would buy into it without a second thought.

Ladybug heaved a sigh. “Perhaps you are right. We— we haven't been able to truly stop him, only delay whatever his twisted plans are and clean up the messes that he causes with his Akumatized victims. So—”

“Let's lay all our cards on the table and see what we can come up with,” Vivi's smile gentled into something more real as she reseated herself. “I'll go first. My name is Vivi and I am a paranormal researcher by trade, and more recently, a spell-caster by vocation. I have an affinity for spells involving ice and cold. I also swing a seriously mean bat and occasionally a sword, so don't think I can't handle it in a brawl.”

She lifted her hand and gestured to where Lewis still stood protectively over Arthur. “These are my husbands. The big guy is Lewis, and we've already established that he's a ghost. Not the rattling chains in the basement type either. He... well, he started out as a vengeance spirit, though he's become more of a protective guardian type, due to circumstances that are way too much to go into right now. He throws a mean fireball and can burn just about anything, fireproofing or not. He also has the usual ghostly talents, vanishing, walking through walls, etcetera.”

Her lips quirked up a notch more. “His snuggle-buddy there is Arthur. He's the tech guy. Made all sorts of ghost-detecting devices from scratch and built his own prosthetic arm. He's hell on wheels with anything mechanical, and while he's not a tank, he won't back down from a fight.”

Vivi turned her attention to the two costumed youths. “I promise, give me a clue to chew on, and I can find out a heck of a lot. So tell me a little about these kwami and miraculous of yours and we'll see what I can pull out of my hat.”

Ladybug took a seat, playing absently with a piece of hotel stationary that had been left on the table. "I'm probably not the best person to tell you about kwami and miraculous. That would be Master Fu. He— he guards the miraculous."

Chat Noir made a soft sound, but when Arthur glanced over at him, he had his lips pressed firmly shut. Arthur could feel his eyebrows trying to climb into his hairline.  Some job of guarding the miraculous when there were two barely-even-teenagers battling not only someone who had one, but his monsters of the week too. Behind him, Lewis radiated anger again and Arthur knew Vivi was holding onto her professional smile tooth and nail.

"And what does he do to guard them?" Vivi asked, trying to hide how pointed a question it was. "And believe me, we'd like to talk to him too."

Ladybug bit her bottom lip. "I don't know everything, I just know he protects the rest of the miraculous. They're all hidden in a box that only he knows how to open... I think it keeps Hawkmoth from finding them."

Arthur folded his arm across his chest. "And what is he doing to teach you about what you need to know? What kind of training?" He had a sneaking feeling what the answer was, given how hesitantly Ladybug admitted how little she knew.

Chat Noir put his hand on Ladybug's shoulder and answered for her. "Not much of anything," he admitted with a tight smile that was about the farthest thing from real. "It was— kind of an urgent matter that we deal with Hawkmoth. And like Ladybug said, her miraculous is the only one that can purify his Akuma."

Arthur was pretty sure Chat was leaving out a lot, to judge by his expression. "And he hasn't given you more training since then?" Arthur asked quietly, already knowing in his heart what the answer was.

The silence from the two was telling. Ladybug’s shoulders were hunched up and Chat Noir’s ears were flattened.

"Then wouldn't it make more sense to have her trained to top form? To know everything she can do inside and out? To have a partner that can do the same?" Holding Arthur was the only thing stopping Lewis from crossing his arms. Arthur could feel the aborted movement to do just that.

"I mean, I totally agree a guy who can do custom possessions on demand is a number one top priority." Arthur added. "But because of that, those fighting him need to have every advantage at their disposal. I mean, a flame guardian, ice adept, and mechanic aren't bad advantages, but if there's more you could have, you should."

Ladybug was pensive and near to chewing her bottom lip to tatters. “I— it doesn’t feel right to confront Master Fu. He gave us our miraculouses and he helped Tikki when she was sick.”

Chat shifted position in his chair, his expression still pinched. “I’m not sure confronting him is the right word, Milady. It seems to me they have a really good point about us being rather unprepared for this. And we could use all the advantages we can get.”

Ladybug sighed, a thin whisper of defeated sound. “I— we’ll take you to see him, but it’ll have to be late evening, we— we have other— obligations during the day.”

School was the word she wasn’t saying but it was pretty clear to Arthur that was what she meant.

“We’ll meet you at the park across the street at—”

“No earlier than eight, Milady,” Chat interrupted her. “I’m stuck with— things— until then.”

“Make it eight-thirty,” she amended.

Vivi stuck out her hand. “Deal, we’ll be waiting for you then.”

Reluctantly, Ladybug shook it and pushed herself up from the table. “We should get going then. I have to be up early in the morning.”

Chat Noir also rose and swept a charming bow in Vivi’s direction. “Until then.” He followed Ladybug out to the balcony.

Behind Arthur, Lewis made a soft sound and Arthur turned to see him holding two tiny Deadbeats in one hand. “Follow them,” he whispered to them. “Keep them safe and warn us the moment anything bad happens. And stay invisible.”

The two Beats nodded and vanished.

Lewis caught Arthur’s look and shrugged. “They need someone to keep an eye on them.”

[charlie-and-yoshi-rp-hell]

Episode 47 Part 5: Return

If his human half is erased, there´ll be nothing left of the Lewis Arthur fell in love with.

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

Yoshi Raven: The fire was burning his soul - at least, it felt like it was burning. It hurt so much but there was no time for caring about that. Arthur grabbed the ghost´s hand and tried to pull it from his neck. He needed more air.

"Stop... don´t you dare attacking the other! You need him, he´s a part of you...!" he begged, hoping the ghost half would listen. Without his mechanical arm, he couldn´t use the more powerful spells against ghosts. Arthur let his soul generate more chains that wrapped around the ghost, hoping they´d stop him.

Charlie McCarthey: Arthur's words only seemed to insense the ghost more.

Need him!? I don't need him!

"Grnh--" Lewis managed to pull himself free a fraction, getting in some much needed air. "You wouldn't even exist if it wasn't for me, hermano." The human reminded with a snide grin, effectively getting the ghost to turn his full attention on his human side.

ENOUGH!! The wall shuddered with his roar. The ghost tossed Arthur effortlessly back, where he landed on the bed. But the human half he lunged at, hard, sending them crashing through the doorway and into the hall. There was a powerful blast of fire and a sickening cracking noise of flesh and bone colliding with plaster--one of the Lewis' cried out.

Only the ghost got back up.

Yoshi Raven: Arthur heard the sound and hoped the human half was still fine. If he lost him, it´d mean he had lost the real Lewis and was bound to a full ghost... bound to a ... monster. One that didn´t care about his well-being and would use their connection for his advantage.

He got up from the bed, afraid of walking to the twins. Afraid of what he´d see, but he had to. He slowly walked to the door.

".... Lewis? Human Lewis... are you okay?"

Charlie McCarthey: The human half of Lewis lay facedown and still, his neck at an odd angle. The ghost dusted off his suit lazily, unphased by the murder he'd just committed.

I forget how fragile and weak fleshbags are. Good thing I'm not one of them, right? The ghost kicked the human's leg to test for himself if he was still alive, and when no response was ellicited, the ghost cackled sharply. Ghost Lewis turned his hollow, glowing gaze to Arthur and advanced on him slowly, crowding him back into the bedroom, where he was trapped.

Now, where were we...

Yoshi Raven: "Why... why did you do that?!" Arthur screeched at him, tears forming in his eyes. He had lost Lewis a second time and it was his fault - again. Just because he was selfish and wanted to keep both of them. But it was too late regretting his decision. He had to erase the ghost half. Arthur would never see Lewis again and it hurt so much.

He noticed his mechanic arm and jumped over to it and reattached it. Arthur turned some plates, revealing the magic circles. But he hesitated. He still saw him as the real Lewis - the kind, gentle Lewis that was always caring for him, the one that loved him more than anything -

"I´m... I´m sorry Lewis... I never wanted it to end like this..."

Charlie McCarthey: That skeletal face stared down at the arm, then followed its connection up to his shoulder, neck, and finally Arthur found himself staring down the business end of that horrifying visage. The skeleton's jaw opened wide, showing that deadly fire coursing inside its body as his maw opened impossibly wide, breathing awful sulfur at the human as it laughed at his distress.

No... I think you did, Art. I think you knew all along... this was the best way. The easiest way. The ghost's voice was fire and silk all at once as purple smoke billowed toward that remaining flesh arm. Arthur's pain and fear were almost palpable, and the ghost was quick to capitalize on it. Those weak festering emotions were a one way highway into the other's mind and body.

This was the ONLY way, don't you think? It's so much easier. Just let go. Let ME be in control. Purred the voice as Arthur's fingertips began to turn dark purple.

Let me in.

Yoshi Raven: The awful, cold feeling of something taking over your body was one of the few things Arthur feared the most and now it was back. It was Lewis who tried possessing him but it was no warm blanket that gently covered his soul. It felt cold as ice and it hurt and the only reason he wasn´t controlled immediately was because this had happened before.

"No!! I won´t let you possess me! Stay away from me!" he growled, fighting against the ghost´s control and pushing him back - away from his mind and soul. The colour change of his hand stopped and was fading slowly.

"I´m not... your puppet...! Never!"

Charlie McCarthey: The ghost growled at the human's pathetic squirming. Fine time to grow a spine--I'm trying to help you, idiot! And again the ghost reached for him, this time pushing a hand straight in his chest. It was ice cold and it was like a hundred sharp little needles sinking into his heart as the ghost pushed into him more.

Fine. If you won't welcome me, I'll just enter without your say so. Sucks to have that cobweb soul of yours, doesn't it Art? Lewis reminded cheerfully as his arm dissapeared into the mechanic's.

He had Arthur's smaller body pinned against a wall, no where to run. The anchor was starting to take residency in Arthur's chest, and the ghost's cold, cruel laughter was the only noise.

Yoshi Raven: The pain that this unwanted possession caused was paralyzing the mechanic. Arthur could barely breath and with the ghost taking over more, his resistance weakened and his vision became blurry.

"No... please don´t do this..." he begged with a quiet voice, knowing he wouldn´t listen. There was only one who could free him with an anti-ghost spell-

"Vivi.. help me..." Arthur whispered.

Charlie McCarthey: And then a baseball bat came down over the ghost's skull, so fucking hard it sounded like a gun shot.

The ghost form crumpled like a wet bag, and a very much alive and panting to prove it Lewis stood over him, arms still raised clutching the impromptu weapon he'd used to knock out the ghost side.

"Man. I really miss ghost powers." Lewis panted, bending down and pulling Arthur from against the wall and from the ghost's body before he got sucked in anymore.

Yoshi Raven: He looked at the human Lewis, eyes wide with surprise. Why was that half still alive? Did the ghost create an illusion to break him?!

"Lewis... why... you´re not dead? But how?!"

Arthur carefully touched him with trembling hands, fearing he´d fade away or turn into his ghost half, fearing it was another illusion to bring down his attention - but no, this Lewis was warm and didn´t disappear.

"You´re no illusion... but w-what happened?!"

Charlie McCarthey: "Easy, buddy, take it easy." Lewis soothed, rubbing Arthur's boney back.

"It occured to me that the less the ghost was like me, the younger that made him." He explained as Mystery trotted in, his fur turning from a familiar magenta back to white. He licked his chops, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Which meant the ghost would be less likely to spot an illusion. Mystery let the ghost see what he wanted to see. In this case, him beating me."

"Since when has Lewis spoken spanish, Arthur?" Mystery pointed out with a warm look, nuzzling the poor mechanic soothingly.

Yoshi Raven: Arthur hugged the human Lewis, fingers clawing into his back and when Mystery was calming him, he gently petted his head, smiling a bit. It was just an illusion. One that tricked him too but the ghost had to believe his human half was dead, so he wasn´t mad at the kitsune.

"... oh my god, you´re right. I didn´t think about that and I didn´t care but yes. He never did. It was an obvious hint, but you´re forgetting that I was a little too busy dealing with a dangerous version of Lewis." Arthur gave both of them a scolding look but hugged them again.

"We shouldn´t waste time and get the real Lewis back."

Charlie McCarthey: Lewis hugged Arthur right back, squeezing him gently to assure him he was real, and soild and wasn't going anywhere.

"Dangerous or not, it's still a part of me, Artie." Lewis reminded sadly, stil wielding the bat and keeping Arthur pointadly away from the ghost's form in case he woke up before they were ready.

"...and I think it's time I get put back together, okay?" Lewis asked softly as Vivi walked in, holding a book. "I know you've liked this but...it's time."

Yoshi Raven: "I know... I know he´s a part of you but - the real Lewis would never try to hurt me. You being split like this has unbalanced your personality in a bad way." he mumbled, leaning a bit against him. When he noticed Vivi, he took a step back from the human half, smiling at him.

"Yes, it´s time. It´s better for you and me. I wanna have my Lewis back. I love you." Arthur turned to the still unconscious ghost "... and I love you. Even if ghostie was a bit evil, I´m sure as soon as you´re back together, you´ll regret that you attacked me. I won´t be mad at you."

He walked to Vivi´s side, asking "How can I help?"

Charlie McCarthey: "Well, the problem lies with the fact the spell has made them two whole bits. You, uh, you need to be half ghost Lew. And the ghost needs to be half human."

"Oh, well, that's great. I'll kill half myself and the ghost only comes back to life halfway--will that make the book happy?" Lewis moaned, facepalming with his free hand.

"Not quite mister. See, we need to do three spells technically. One for each of you--then in the middle of both we need to hit you with the joining spell and--voila! You two should be back together."

"You said should."

"I haven't done a spell like this before, Lew! just trust me?"

"I, I do Vi." Lewis said, watching the ghost half warily. "It's me I don't trust."

Yoshi Raven: Arthur listened to Vivi´s explanation, looking at the ghost and the human half.

"Well it does make sense. You can´t mix oil and water because they´re too different and I think it´s the same with a complete ghost and human half. With ghostie over there... I can trap him in an anti-ghost sphere so he can´t escape or attack and we´ll have enough time for the spells. Alright?"

He switched the plates on his arm to the magic circle for that spell, getting ready to use it.

Charlie McCarthey: "When he wakes up, he's not gonna be happy." Lewis warned.

Mystery circled the body, sniffing.

"It gets worse. They need to be in contact for the union spell. You're gonna have to let the ward drop Artie, but only after they've become their half selves. I think we'll be able to know when, but if not, I'll give you the cue." Vivi informed as she started drawing two small circles. She instructed Lewis to stand over one, and for Arthur to put the ghost Lewis over when he got the chance.

"Everybody ready?"

"Uh, yeah?" said Lewis warily.

The ghost half only groaned, still not with it.

Yoshi Raven: He sighed. "Well that´s going to be fun. Good luck for that." he mumbled, patting human Lewis head gently. Arthur walked to the ghost and activated the spell that formed a white sphere around him. He pulled Lewis on the other circle Vivi had drawn, then stepped back, ready to deactivate his spell when he had to.

"Alright, let´s do it."

Charlie McCarthey: Vivi winced sympathetically at the only-conscious Lewis.  “I’m so, so sorry about this.”

“It’s okay, Vi. Really. Besides Arthur I wouldn’t trust anyone else to handle this, okay? Let’s just get it over with.” Lewis murmured. She nodded, her jaw clenched tight and spine straight at his faith in her.

And so Vivi got to work.

She had to do the splitting one at a time, so she started with the human side. If the ghost side was distracted just before she joined them together, she hoped it would buy them some time. Lewis had thought being turned into a half ghost would hurt as much it did—but he was grateful that’s all it did was hurt. It wasn’t like Vivi had to split them again and make 4 versions of Lewis Pepper.

Yoshi Raven: He watched the twins - the human because the change seemed to hurt, the ghost because he was moving slowly now. Arthur felt sorry for the human half, he thought the spell wouldn´t hurt him but, well. This was the only way getting the real Lewis back. He was concentrating on the sphere just in case the ghost would wake up before Vivi was done with changing him - a mad ghost right now would be bad. Especially because he would still go after him.

Charlie McCarthey: "Okay--next one." That was the only warning Vivi gave before she left the human side and moved to the ghostly counterpart. Lewis was left hanging in an odd suspended state, half his face skeletal, looking mildly dazed but none the worse for wear. The socket of his skeletal face was completly black--since the ghost half was actually missing.

The ghost instantly started fighting back upon the spell working through it's body, but its struggles were weak at best.

Like the human side, ghost Lewis sported a semi-solid human face on one side. This one had a completly milky white eyes, and the two of them turned to look tiredly at one other, the ghost trying to gnash its teeth and glare.

Human Lewis smiled weakly and just tried to wave.

Yoshi Raven: For a moment, Arthur thought the ghost half would be strong enough to fight back, that he´d get out of the sphere and attack but then he saw he wasn´t strong enough. The twins looked strange like this but this was a sign that Vivi´s spells worked.

"Alright... time for the last spell. Ready?" he asked and placed his right hand on the magic circle that´d deactivate the sphere. A nod from Vivi was enough.

"Go!" Arthur let the sphere drop and the white glow vanished.

Charlie McCarthey: The second the sphere was gone, the ghost tried lunging. He either didn't care about Vivi's new spell or couldn't hear it. But before the ghost could get to Arthur the human side of Lewis was there. He had the ghost by the wrist, and tugged the startled creature against his side as they began to glow. Their bodies touched, and began sizzling, the strange, powerful magic zipping them together from the sides like it was nothing.

The two of them screamed, because coming back together hurt like a bitch. Their sides conjoined even more, by the time it was up to their hips, the ghost couldn't fight back and the human's face was screwed shut.

There was a clap of noise, almost like thunder through the air, and with a sizzle of electric magic, the two of them were yanked into one being. Lewis, in ghost form but with no fire hair and a faded locket, dropped to the ground like a stone.

They had been split for almost a whole week, and every single memory from two people were linging up and fighting for each other.

No one could blame Lewis for being out cold during this time. His brain was a war zone of memories, thoughts and emotions.

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

(Previous) - (Next)

[masked-puppetmaster]

mystery skulls fic one

I posted this under the question requesting this number under my account but I realized that that probably wasn’t the best idea so I’m giving it it’s own post as well. This followed #10 on the prompt list (I’m still taking requests ) this is still untitled I’m sorry 

#10: “Witnessing your own fuernal is not as great as everyone thinks. Especially when no one but you and your sophomore chemistry teacher show up.”

For the purpose of this specific prompt this is gonna be in a bit of an au of sorts Basically when Lewis becomes a ghost he chills for the 0.2 seconds it takes to realize Arthur isn’t capable of cold blooded murder.

I’ve never done dialogue promps before so if I do this wrong I apologize. I haven’t written a fanfiction for a couple years now so please be merciful haha

I’m very sorry for the slight TAZ reference I couldn’t help it

That being said, enjoy the fic : )

Witnessing your own funeral is not as great as everyone thinks. Especially when no one but you and your sophomore chemistry teacher show up.  

Of course, Lewis didn’t want to be here anyway. In fact, he didn’t know why he was here in the first place. That being said in both the sense of he didn’t know why he had become a ghost, and in the sense that out of all the places he could have gone, he chose his own funeral.

The turnout was, to say the least, pretty sad. The only person who’d shown up to the service was his old sophomore chemistry teacher. Lewis couldn’t even remember his name.

Remember. Memory.

Memory. That’s partly why there weren’t other people here.

Lewis’s had woken up confused at first- dazed, without memories himself. They came back one by one as he stood in the dark cave, examining his new body and surroundings. A cliff. Spikes. He instinctively held up a skeletal hand to his chest, where one of the spikes had impaled him. He’d been murdered. Pushed. By Arthur.

Arthur. His best friend since 8th grade. How could he do this?

At first, Lewis had been infuriated. He’d tracked down Arthur to try and exact his revenge. But the longer Lewis watched, waiting for the right moment, the more clear it became to him that whoever it was that killed him, it wasn’t Arthur. And honestly, now that he really thought about it, the proposition was kind of ridiculous. Arthur? The kid who was scared of his own shadow? Committing murder? If being dead hadn’t been freaking Lewis out so much, he probably would have laughed out loud.

And Lewis knew he was partly to blame too - Arthur had warned He and Vivi continuously that the cave didn’t seem safe, but as usual, they didn’t listen. And as always, Arthur had followed, because he trusted them. As if they hadn’t ignored him for months. As if they always listened to what he has to say.

He has seen Arthur was lonely. He knew he was hurting, damnit, maybe if he had -

No. He couldn’t think like that. What happened happened. There was no woulda coulda shoulda to be had now.

But now he was dead. A ghost. What would be do? What COULD He do?

He ultimately decided to stick around his old friends, haunting them in a way (ironic, considering their profession.) somebody had to keep an eye on them after all. They couldn’t appear to see or hear Lewis- no one could, at least, not yet- but that wasn’t going to stop him from looking after the two. looking after Arthur, who was now down an arm and spending his nights looking for Lewis instead of sleeping. And vivi. His sweet, beautiful Vivi. She didn’t remember him at all.

He found this out at the same time Arthur did, shortly after Arthur had gotten home with a new prosthetic arm. (He had been complaining for days about how uncomfortable and bland it was, and how he’d make a “robot arm, because they’re cooler.” ) Arthur had been up late, looking at all the possible places Lewis might be; a habit Lewis was not fond of. He wished he had some way to tell Arthur he was right there, to stop looking, but Arthur couldn’t hear him no matter how loud he yelled.

Lewis sat next to the boy as he typed slowly on his computer, still not used to the prosthetic. People had been telling Arthur for days that Lewis had died, but Arthur seemed to refuse. So did the pepper family. They kept looking for Lewis day and night.

Lewis wanted to scream.

Arthur had been in the middle of this when Vivi walked in.

“You look like hell.” She greeted him.

Arthur rubbed his eyes with his good arm. “Thanks.” He said sarcastically. Vivi snorted before sitting on the bed and leaving over to glance at Arthur’s laptop screen. “What'ca doing?” She asked.

Arthur yawned. “Looking for Lew.” Vivi gave Arthur a quizzical look, which Arthur didn’t catch. The blonde pointed to a few places on his laptop screen, and Vivi leaned over farther to see. “I’ve already sent the peppers over here, but they found nothing.” Arthur reported. He sighed. “Haven’t found him yet but….we will. It’ll work one of these times.” Then he repeated, almost to himself, “We’ll find him.”

There was a short moment of silence. Then…

“ …who? ”

Vivi’s question shattered the silence that had followed Arthur’s words. Arthur, who has been practically falling asleep in his laptop a moment beforehand stood straight up, awake. And Lewis would be lying if he said the flames that were now a part of him didn’t flare up a bit at the question. Arthur swallowed nervously.

“You know….Lewis.”

Vivi shook her head.

“ Lewis. ”

Silence.

“….your…” he paused, then trailed off. “Don’t try to mess with me Viv,” he continued , “Lewis. Lewis pepper.” Vivi continued her blank, confused stare, and Arthur sighed, exasperated . “Vivi, we’ve known him for eight years.”

Vivi shook her head again, more forcefully this time. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve been talking about this guy for a couple days now and I didn’t want to upset you but…I think you might’ve hit your head in the workshop, Artie. I don’t know a Lewis.”

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but Lewis ducked out at that point, not being able to listen to any more. Vivi didn’t remember him.

Vivi couldn’t remember him.

Fuck.

He watched for the next couple of weeks as Arthur spent every day trying to jog Vivi’s memory, to no avail. No matter what he did, she just wouldn’t remember. Arthur looked defeated, and Lewis felt genuine pain every time Vivi made a comment regarding her memory of him (or lack thereof). Eventually, Arthur gave up. Lewis couldn’t blame him.

Not long after, they got an invitation to Lewis’ funeral. His family had given up the search.

Arthur had not.

He refused to attend the funeral, which was all fine and good for Vivi since she couldn’t remember Lewis anyway. And when something came up threatening the family restaurant, (their only source of income), Lewis’ family wasn’t able to make the services either. Leaving no one to attend but Lewis’ old chemistry teacher.

It was a shame, Lewis decided, that a service be put together and only have one attendee.

So here Lewis was, attending his own funeral.

It was horribly bland and depressing, and Lewis wished he could express his displeasure to whoever planned it. A mostly incorrect obituary was read, and some music - music Lewis hated no less - was played. They lowered a coffin into the ground too, despite it being empty - a body hadn’t been found. Lewis was sure that lowering the coffin was important in some way, but without anyone here, to Lewis if just seemed like a waste of perfectly nice wood.

The wind blew, and after everyone was gone, Lewis looked at his gravestone.

‘here lies Lewis pepper. Beloved son, brother, and friend.’

Lewis decided he hated funerals.

They were for the living, after all.

[nerdbabyarthur]

hey, Artie... you alright? starting to worry a few folks...

“….”

Arthur’s eyes blaze, the orange glow bright and….not all too entirely pleased. His teeth are clenched as his hands become claws. His cracked pendant’s soft golden glow flickers, green sparks coming from it. Standing up, after days of bitterness. He did not look happy.

“Really? Really. Do you actually believe I’m that stupid? That I don’t see the pattern here? You wanna know how I am? I’m pissed. I’m tired and hurt, and so fucking angry you barely know the beginning of it. And you know what? All of it is your fault. All of this, is because of all of you.”

His voice is a growl, the glow of his necklace and his eyes momentarily flashing…green. His form sparks as his electric powers react to his growing emotional response, the color unable to decide if it wants to keep it’s usual yellow hue.

“Do you know what it’s like to be abandoned for years? Only to see others again only because they’re checking to see what level of hot mess you are now, and not because they care? I’m sick of it. I’m sick of being alone, of being laughed at and made fun of and dragged around like a chew toy. No more, I’ll deal with this. No! MORE!”

The apartment flashes, all the items inside raising as if losing gravity, Arthur’s form twitching with barely contained anger. The glow of his necklace was entirely green now, and that color seemed to bleed outwards, slowly infecting his peachy ghostly glow with a vibrant sickening neon green. He sneers down at everyone who’s watching, sharp fangs bared in a snarl as his orange eyes flicker.

“You’re all sick freaks! Nasty little fucks who find entertainment from my suffering! You barely so much as waste your breath on me, but always make sure you’re there for my next breakdown! My life is just a game to you, a show! I bet you’re just sitting there watching me now, waiting to see what I’ll do! Waiting to see if someone will show up and hurt me, if I’ll hurt myself! FUCK YOU! Fuck you and your bullshit, LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME! I’M A GHOST WITH BARELY ANY PURPOSE!!”

His voice raises and raises by each passing second, wind picking up in the apartment as tools and metal and furniture is tossed around. His eyes are green now….his voice taking on dual tones, shrieking in despair and anguish and anger, the sound ringing the ears of all who listen. The green sparks fizzle and zap from his broken anchor more and more, figure glitching with it. He’s hurt, he’s been living with a damaged anchor for too long…it’s starting to take affect.

“Can you wrap your pathetic little brains around the fact that I only started to become truly happy after I died? Do you understand how TERRIBLE that is?! You fuckers barely gave a shit about that too!”

Arthur’s voice cracks with emotions, ghostly visage unable to choose between fully electric and deadly, or his undead human guise. Green and yellow green and yellow…

“My best friend Thaia is missing, the only person to care about me and give a damn. NONE of you care. You all pretend and play pity party to wriggle in under my skin and make it all hurt even worse. You didn’t care when I was sick, when I died, when that demon came back for me. That! THAT’S the worst part! YOU LET HIM POSSESS ME AGAIN! YOU SAT THERE AND WATCHED AS HE HURT ME, USED ME, MADE ME HURT OTHERS, BROKE ME. I WAS STUCK IN MY ANCHOR FOR MONTHS AND NONE OF YOU TRIED TO HELP! My so called friends. My so called family. It’s all lies. All of it. You’re all monsters and I’m tired of you. I hate you. Do you hear me I HATE YOU!”

The apartment was breaking and cracking, the walls splattering with green and turning charcoal black as the uncontrollable lightning bolt strikes against them. Dark murky green stalagmites shoot up through the hardwood flooring, the ceiling gaining a spooky cave-like design. Halls and rooms stretched and darkened. Entire eyes green and violently glowing, tears began to roll down Arthur’s eyes as he finally vented out his pent up emotions. The betrayal and abandonment he felt all this time. Of course…everything else was being pushed along by the residue remains of when he was possessed by Odium a second time. He didn’t seem to be resisting it, however….he was welcoming it, enjoying the dark surge of energy as it fueled and validated his anger.

“I’M BROKEN AND DAMAGED AND I HATE YOU HATE YOU HATE YOU. I SHOULD HAVE LET ODIUM KEEP ME, I MEANT MORE TO HIM AS A PUPPET THEN I EVER MEANT TO ANY OF YOU. DON’T EVER COME NEAR ME AGAIN! DON’T TALK TO ME, DON’T EVEN BOTHER THINKING ABOUT ME, YOU NEVER HAD BEFORE. SO FUCK YOU ALL, GO ROT IN HELL! ALL OF YOU! LEWIS, VIVI, MYSTERY, EVERY VARIANT IN-BETWEEN. YOU’RE ALL JUST AS GUILTY. IF YOU EVER COME NEAR ME AGAIN, I’LL KILL YOU!”

Arthur’s hate filled rant ends with a burst of energy, a mix of yellow and green. The two closest to him, who broke the damn and released this quickly strengthening poltergeist get fried and electrocuted, millions of volts of electricity running through them. It’d be a surprise if they weren’t dead. With a high pitch scream, all the lights in the warped abode go out. 

And then Arthur was gone. And everyone else was left alone in the dark. In the new cave the possibly malevolent ghost had made out of his home. 

[ed-edward-blackbeard]

long-ass fucking questionnaire

yoooooooo, I did it all.

I’m starting this at 1:15 in the morning.  Let’s see how long it takes me to finish.  cause I’m a masochist, apparently.

1: My name? do I HAVE to?  Okay, it’s Kelly.  But I really hate it, so usually I go by Kel.  A few lucky ones get to call me Kelly, but only because I love the way my name sounds when they say it.  There, my dirty secret is out.

2: Do I have any nicknames? A plethora.  Artie (after the fish), Fluffie (long story) Jellybean

3: Zodiac sign? The most Libra Libra that has ever Libra’d.

4: Video game I play to chill, not to win? I don’t play video games.  But I play a few online games, so Doctor Who: Legacy

5: Book/series I reread? The Black Dagger Brotherhood by JR Ward (Series) The Harry Potter books Morgan Chase and the Gods of Asgard by Rick Riordan (series) Good Omens (Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett) Watchers (Dean Koontz) Insomnia (Stephen King)

6: Aliens or ghosts? I have nothing against either.  But I enjoy writing about ghosts more.

7: Writer I trust enough to read whatever they write? Stephen King

8: Favourite radio station? NPR, strangely enough.

9: Favourite flavour of anything? Lemon.  I still thoroughly enjoy chocolate, but my radiation therapy changed the way it tasted.  

10: The word that I use all the time to describe something great? Awesome.  Both with and without the addition of the adjective “fucking”

11: Favourite song? My standard answer is, ‘Everything Louder Than Everything Else’ by Meat Loaf, because I truly love that song, but lately I’ve been on a Game of Thrones kick, and i’m stuck on “The Rains of Castamere” by Sigur Rios and “The Bear and the Maiden Fair” because it’s such a Jaime x Brienne song.

12: The question you ask new friends to get to know them better? Bold of you to assume I have friends.

13: Favourite word? sycophant, gestalt, melancholy

14: The last person who hurt me, did I forgive them? After about, oh, ten years or so, yes I did.  It’s a new thing for me.  usually I hold grudges until the end of time.

15: Last song I listened to? “Stairway To Heaven” by Led Zeppelin

16: TV show I always recommend? Current:  American Gods, Better Call Saul Cancelled/ended:  Hannibal (NBC), Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

17: Pirates or ninjas? Drink up me hearties, yo ho!  Yo ho, yo yo ho, a pirate’s life for me.

18: Movie I watch when I’m feeling down? Usually something from the Disney/Pixar Ouvre.  Except UP.  UP makes me sob in the first ten minutes, so no.

19: Song that I always start my shuffle with/wake-up song/always-on-a-loop song? Du Hast, Rammstein.

20: Favourite video games? Puzzles and Dragons, Doctor Who: Legacy, Dragonvale

21: What am I most afraid of? Snakes, without a doubt.

22: A good quality of mine? I’m creative

23: A bad quality of mine? I don’t think before I speak, so i sometimes don’t end up saying what I mean to say and hurt/offend in the process.

24: Cats or dogs? Bi-petual with a preference to cats

25: Actor/actress you trust enough to watch whatever they’re in? Bruce Campbell.  Alien Apocalypse, anybody?

26: Favourite season? Winter

27: Am I in a relationship? No, although I do love someone very much

28: Something I miss? Being a kid, with all the possibilities of my life still ahead of me

29: My best friend? @mummyholmesisupset and @silvarbelle.  they tie.

30: Eye colour? Hazel-greenish, with a little bit of sunflower around the pupil

31: Hair colour? Normally, a pretty chestnut brown.  sometimes I bleach it or dye it.

32: Someone I love? @silvarbelle, she’s my sister-from-another-mister, and I will throw hands for that bitch in a heartbeat.

33: Someone I trust? @mummyholmesisupset because she’s earned it a hundred times over.  @silvarbelle because I love her like family.

34: Someone I always think about? My grandmother.  she died when I was seventeen, and I still miss her.

35: Am I excited about anything? My birthday

36: My current obsession? Gam of thrones, Doctor Who, Hannibal, the MCU

37: Favourite TV shows as a child? Thundercats, Scooby Doo, 60s Batman, My Favorite Martian, the Monkees

38: Do I have someone of the opposite sex that I can tell everything to? No, thank God.

39: Am I superstitious? Not overly, but I do have a few.

40: What do I think about most? Writing

41: Do I have any strange phobias? Is arachnophobia strange?

42: Do I prefer to be in front of the camera or behind it? Behind it, dear God.

43: Favourite hobbies? Writing, reading, pinning things on Pinterest that I absolutely mean to do but probably never will

44: Last book I read? Watchers by Dean Koontz, and I’m in the middle of Fear by Bob Woodward

45: Last film I watched? Backdraft.  “You go, we go.”  

46: Do I play any instruments? Not since band class in the early 90s.

47: Favourite animal? Cat.

48: Top 5 blog on Tumblr that I follow? ???????  I don’t think I do.

49: Superpower I wish I could have? Manipulation of probability

50: How do I destress? Writing, watching Netflix, watching Mythbusters

51: Do I like confrontation? Like it, no.  Good at it, yes.

52: When do I feel most at peace? When it’s quiet and the only noises are the clicking of the keyboard and my cats’ purring

53: What makes me smile? Cute animals, stupid puns, comments on fic

54: Do I sleep with the lights on or off? Off, except for my TARDIS nightlight

55: Play any sports? Fuck no.

56: What is my song of the week? Should I Stay Or Should I Go?

57: Favourite drink? 1% milk.

58: When did I last send a handwritten letter to somebody? A few months?  It was to @mummyholmesisupset in fact.

59: Afraid of heights? Desperately so.

60: Pet peeve? Anchovies, people who don’t use coasters, and men who smoke in public places.  (yes, it’s a movie reference.  And if you get it, I will send you a shiny nickel)

61: What was the last concert I went to see? Black Sabbath’s Theater of Madness

62: Am I vegetarian/vegan/pescatarian? Fuck no.  I am, in fact, omnivorous and diabetic.

63: What occupation did I want to do when I was younger? To be Daphne Blake in Mystery, Inc.

64: Have I ever had a friend turn enemy? Yep.  Not fun.

65: What fictional universe would I like to be a part of? Hannibal’s.  I’m not rude for the most part, so I have a pretty good chance at surviving.

66: Something I worry about? My future.  Cancer has shortened my life span, my relatives are all 65+, and I am an only child with no children of my own (Thank Christ)  I haven’t worked since 2004 (been caretaking sick parents) so I’m concerned.

67: Scared of the dark? I love the dark, so no.

68: Who are my best friends? @mummyholmesisupset  @silvarbelle

69: What do I admire most about others? That they can do things, very well, that I can’t do.  What that is varies from person to person

70: Can I sing? Not very well, but I don't let that stop me...

71: Something I wish I could do? Write professionally.  I love writing fanfic, but I'd kill to be a real, published author.

72: If I won the lottery, what would I do? Pay off bills, go back to college, buy myself a car (pickup, Ford F-150 with fog lights and automatic steering), pay off my mom's bills, hire an aide to stay with Mom, move to my favorite city and hire a winter-time driver because I can't drive for shit in the snow/ice.

73: Have I ever skipped school? Nope.  Often wanted to, never have.

74: Favourite place on the planet? Asheville, NC.  Technically, it's Montreat, which is right outside of Black Mountain and is a township unto itself.  It's also home to Montreat Bible College, established by Billy Graham, and the Chapel of the Prodigal.  It is also home to Lake Susan, one of the most quiet and beautiful places on God's green earth, and I would live by that little lake if I could.  I have photos in my Google Drive, I need to share them sometime.  You'll see what I mean.  But I love Asheville, too, downtown and all.  

75: Where do I want to live? Asheville, NC.  Except I can't drive in the snow and ice, so there's that.

76: Do I have any pets? I have two cats, Samhain Murray (Sam) and Margaret May (Maggie, Maggie May, Margaret Ann)

77: What is my current desktop picture? On my laptop, it's Oswald Cobblepot (Robin Lord Taylor) from Gotham.  On my tablet, it's the Superman logo.  On my phone, it's my cat, Sam.

78: Early bird or night owl? Night owl, given that it's 2:30 AM and I'm still working on this.

79: Sunsets or sunrise? Sunsets, please.

80: Can I drive? i don't know, can you?  I can.

81: Story behind my last kiss? I kissed my cat on his cold wet nose because he was headbutting me and so I kissed him.

82: Earphones or headphones? Earphones, sadly.  I prefer headphones, but headphones are uncomfortable because I wear glasses.  So, earbuds.

83: Have I ever had braces? Did you?  I don't know.  Did I?  Yes, I did, I fucking despised them.

84: Story behind one of my scars? in late 2004, I started getting very ill.  I couldn't keep food down, I was puking all the time, pale and everything, so I went to the ER and found I had a mass the size of a basketball growing in my abdomen.  I was shipped to the local cancer center because of the cancer markers, and at the tender age of 27, I got a hysterectomy.  I was cut from my navel to my diaphragm, old school, because the mass was twenty-four pounds.  Benign, thank goodness, but it had started to go necrotic and I was well into blood poisoning (the reason I was puking and sick all the time).  I still have the scar, and always will.

85: Favourite genre of music? instrumental celtic.

86: Who is my hero? I don't know that I have one, as such

87: Favourite comic book character? SUPERMAN, BABY.  SUCK MY DICK BATS

88: What makes me really angry? Mistreatment of people and animals.  Abuse of people and animals.

89: Kindle or real book? Both have their benefits, but I love the weight and feel of a real book.  I love the portability of a Kindle.  

90: Favourite sporty activity? Marathon TV-binge

91: What is one thing that isn’t tight in schools that should be? There's NOTHING RIGHT in schools

92: What was my favourite subject at school? Creative writing

93: Siblings? Nope, my parents saw their mistake and decided never again.

94: What was the last thing I bought? A pair of Sperry deck shoes with Han Solo and Chewbacca on them.

95: How tall am I? 5'6

96: Can I cook? yes, I can.  perhaps not well, but I can cook enough to feed myself and my mom.

97: Can I bake? Yes, I can.  I'm a SLIGHTLY better baker than a cook.

98: 3 things I love? Writing, my cats, Christopher Reeve

99: 3 things I hate? So many things.  Um, spiders, snakes, creepy clowns

100: Do I have more girl friends or boy friends? at the moment, girl.  when I was in school?  boy.

101: Who do I get on with better, girls or boys? General rule?  Boys, or girls that are kind of not-ultra-girly.

102: Where was I born? North Carolina, that hotbed of conservative bullshit.  I'm actually ashamed to admit that's where I'm from.

103: Sexual orientation? I'm working on figuring that out.  Let's call it bisexual for now, and I'll update you as it happens.

104: Where do I currently live? North Carolina, sadly.

105: Last person I texted? @mummyholmesisupset

106: Last time I cried? Today.  I was watching WALL-E on STARZ, and UP came on while I was finishing dinner.  By the time Ellie was miscarrying, I was bawling.

107: Guilty pleasure? I'm not really guilty about my pleasures, but I do have a soft spot for mind-candy romance novels.  Like Johanna Lindsey, Nina Bangs, Harlequin, etc.

108: Favourite Youtuber? I hate Youtubers.

109: A photo of myself. uh, no.

110: Do I like selfies? fuck no.

111: Favourite game app? Doctor Who: Legacy

112: My relationship with my parents? It varies from moment to moment.  My dad never really understood me, and after he got sick and was in a coma for awhile, it changed him.  so there was never really a chance for him to try.  My relationship with my mom is... complicated.  Sometimes we're BFFs and finish each other's sandwiches, and other times, we hate each other's guts and would gladly murder each other and bury the bodies in the backyard.

113: Favourite accents? Spanish, English/Scottish, all the Asian ones (the gentleman that runs my local Chinese restaurant speaks Cantonese and Mandarin both, and I could listen to that all day.)

114: A place I have not been but wish to visit? London, Dublin, Cork, Kerry, Scotland, Italy, Greece, New York, Japan, Los Angeles

115: Favourite number? 15

116: Can I juggle? Nope

117: Am I religious? Eh, not really.  I go to bible study mostly because I have half a crush on the preacher.

118: Do I like space? YES.

119: Do I like the deep ocean? Not so much.

120: Am I much of a daredevil? NO

121: Am I allergic to anything? Ciprofloxacin, IV contrast dye, Mobic/meloxicam, Zofram/ondansetron, and a ton of fragranced products (I have sensitive skin that breaks out at the drop of a hat.)  

122: Can I curl my tongue? Yep!

123: Can I wiggle my ears? Nope!

124: Do I like clowns? Yes, if they're cute.  NOT PENNYWISE, I HATE PENNYWISE.  But I love Tim Curry's Pennywise.  But that's because Tim Curry is awesome.

125: The Beatles or Elvis? Elvis.  I'm an Elvis chick.

126: My current project? "By Inches We Fall," a Game of Thrones fanfic that's Jaime Lannister x Brienne of Tarth.  I'm also working on some Christmas projects involving spray paint and recycled K-Cups

127: Am I a bad loser? Horrible loser.  I hate to lose.

128: Do I admit when I wrong? sometimes.  depends on who I'm talking to, and the tone of the discussion.  if it's a civil discourse, yes I will.  If we're shouting?  I'm not backing down.

129: Forest or beach? Forest.  A forest doesn't leave sand in your butt crack.

130: Favourite piece of advice? Mind your own business and you won't be minding mine

131: Am I a good liar? I used to be.

132: Hogwarts house / Divergent faction / Hunger Games district? Slytherin/what the fuck is a Divergent/12

133: Do I talk to myself? i do, and sometimes I answer

134: Am I very social? HAHAHAHAHA NO.

135: Do I like gossip? sit by me and pour that tea, bitch.

136: Do I keep a journal/diary? I do, on paper, and you'll never read it.

137: Have I ever hopelessly failed a test? i failed every physics test I took in high school.  after becoming a Mythbusters stan, I retook an online physics test and passed it.  

138: Do I believe in second chances? depends on the situation and the person, but generally not.  i have been known to give them, though.

139: If I found a wallet full of cash on the ground, what would I do? oh man.  I'd like to say I'd turn it in untouched, but.  I also know I've got medication pay for (mine and mom's), her insurance to pay for (i'm uninsured), groceries and gas to buy, so in all probability?  I'd keep the cash but return everything else.

140: Do I believe people are capable of change? No.  People are who they are.  they might change what they think or what they believe in, but who they are?  No.

141: Have I ever been underweight? AHAHAHAHAHA NO

142: Am I ticklish? ...there's no good way to answer.  If I say no, you'll tickle me to prove it.  If I say yes, you'll tickle me.  But yes, I am.  especially my feet.

143: Have I ever been in a submarine? WTF?  No.

144: Have I ever been on a plane? Once, and never again

145: In a film about my life, who would I cast as myself, friends and family? Rebel Wilson as me, America Ferrera as @mummyholmesisupset, Kristen Bell as @silvarbelle, Jessica Lange as my mother, and I can't think of anyone else.

146: Have I ever been overweight? Always, am currently, though I'm working to lose it.  I've lost about 50 lbs in the past year, so I'm doing okay

147: Do I have any piercings? Three in my right ear, two in my left.

148: Which fictional character do I wish was real? Hannibal Lecter.

149: Do I have any tattoos? nope, but I want a couple.

150: What is the best decision I have made in life so far? .....i haven't made a single good decision....

151: Do I believe in Karma? it bites me on the ass often enough, so yes I do.

152: Do I wear glasses or contacts? Glasses, and I'm pretty sure I'm gonna have to switch to bifocals next time

153: What was my first car? 1979 green Dodge Aries K

154: Do I want children? If they're furry and four-legged, sure.

155: Who is the most intelligent person I know? um, probably my uncle with two frigging masters degrees

156: My most embarrassing memory? I met John deLancie at a Star Trek con once, just coming down the stairs from his room to the con floor.  And I fell all over myself talking to him because I was like, fourteen or something and he was tall and handsome and genuinely happy to be tthere and I was basically every fangirl's nightmare.

157: What makes me nostalgic? watching old TV shows I loved as a kid, or reading books I haven't read in years.

158: Have I ever pulled an all-nighter? Yep

159: Which do I value more in others, brains or beauty? brains.  i'm practically a zombie.

160: What colour mostly dominates my wardrobe? Purple and fuschia equally.

161: Have I ever had a paranormal experience? Not as such, no.

162: What do I hate most about myself? Everything?

163: What do I love most about myself? I like my hair.

164: Do I like adventure? only the ones in books.

165: Do I believe in fate? not really.

166: Favourite animal? Felis cattus

167: Have I ever been on radio? nope

168: Have I ever been on TV? nope

169: How old am I? 42

170: One of my favourite quotes? "Lock the door.  And hope they don't have blasters."

171: Do I hold grudges? you bet your bippy I do.  (what is a bippy and why are you betting it?)

172: Do I trust easily? No.

173: Have I learnt from my mistakes? I hope I have.  But I suspect I haven't.

174: Best gift I’ve ever received? A single cupcake and a rosebud, given to me by the nurses at the cancer treatment center because it was my birthday and I was having radiation and felt absolutely shitty.  so they surprised me with a little cupcake and a rose for my birthday and it made me feel better.

175: Do I dream? Yep.

176: Have I ever had a night terror? Yep

177: Do I remember my dreams, and what is one that comes to mind? I remember some of them, like the Continuing Adventures of Roxy, the Pink Police Poodle.

178: An experience that has made me stronger? My breakups.

179: If I were immortal, what would I do? Sleep a lot, read even more, learn everything that I never had before.

180: Do I like shopping? I do!

181: If I could get away with a crime, what would I choose to do? Bank robbery.

182: What does “family” mean to me? family is a group of people, not necessarily related by blood, who have chosen to band together in love and support of each other.

183: What is my spirit animal? According to my meditation quest, it's a wolf.  But I'm not really comfortable saying that because it wasn't a real vision quest, I'd have to go to the res for that (i have Cherokee blood on my father's side) and I haven't.

184: How do I want to be remembered? As someone who tried to be good.

185: If I could master one skill, what would I choose? Woodcarving.

186: What is my greatest failure? I dropped out of college in the 90s, when I had an accident that broke my ankle.  I never went back.

187: What is my greatest achievement? five-year survivor, cancer-free!

188: Love or money? Money, sadly.

189: Love or career? love

190: If I could time travel, where and when would I want to go? Am I an observer like the Doctor?  If yes, then I would go back to the Globe Theater and see all of Shakespeare as it was originally performed. Am I living there, stuck?  Future, please.

191: What makes me the happiest? Writing.

192: What is “home” to me? Where I lay my head.

193: What motivates me? How I feel, what I see, something that fascinates me.

194: If I could choose my last words, what would they be? Wake me up when it's over

195: Would I ever want to encounter aliens? Depends on if they're hostile or kind.

196: A movie that scared me as a child? The Dark Crystal.  I love it now.

197: Something I hated as a child that I like now? V-8 juice

198: Zombies or vampires? oooh, both.  But vampires.

199: Live in the city or suburbs? Suburbs

200: Dragons or wizards? Dragons all the way, man.  I love dragons.

201: A nightmare that has stayed with me? Its always the same.  I'm being chased by someone/something, it's always getting closer, and it sounds like a loud, roaring motorcycle.  And I'm always running or racing through the Black Lodge from Twin Peaks (the place with all the red curtains and the black/white zig-zag floor.  That place freaks me the fuck out, and ever since the show aired, it's been in my nightmares)

202: How do I define love? Love is not love, that alters when it alteration finds, nor bends with the remover to remove; O no, it is an ever fixed mark, that looks on tempests and is never shaken.

203: Do I judge a book by its cover? sometimes.  I've found great books in the bargain bin that way.  I've also found a few stinkers.  Come to think of it, I've found a few people that way too.  Some great, some stinkers.

204: Have I ever had my heart broken? I have.

205: Do I like my handwriting? i do, actually

206: Sweet or savoury? Savoury

207: Worst job I’ve had? Market research interview administrator.  I was one of those assholes that flagged you down in the mall and made you watch a commercial or a movie trailer, or try a snack product and then asked you a billion and five questions about it

208: Do I collect anything? Funko POPs, Superman memorabilia, Star Wars and Star Trek memorabilia, penguins, mooses

209: Item of clothing or jewellery you’ll never see me without? my dragon ring, my pocketwatch

210: What is on my bucket list? I don't have one

211: How do I handle anger? Depends.  I sometimes hold it in, but most times I blow like a firecracker.  hot and hard, and then I cool off.

212: Was I named after anyone? my dad's uncle Kelly, and my mom's father Ray (i'm Kelly Rae)

213: Do I use sarcasm a lot? me?  sarcastic?  Perish the thought.

214: What TV character am I most like? Dobie Gillis.

215: What is the weirdest talent I have? I can twirl just about anything like a baton and not drop it

216: Favourite fictional character? Ashley j. Williams

3:24 AM.  Son of a bitch.

[chrissydeath]

OC Interview Meme

tagged by: noone, got in the mood for :D And maybe s.o. is curious enough to read about my Inquizzy boi? _____ [shortly after Trespasser, but still with his marked hand. And headconon is Bi!Solas.]

1. What is your name?

“Sam’ael, from the dalish clan Lavellan. But most just know me as wrong Herold of Andraste, Inquisitor, wild freaking elf who saved the world’s ass?“

2. What is your real name?

He raises an eybrow ...

3. Do you know why you were called that?

“As I know, my parents picked a mythological name up from the shems and simply transfered them into our culture.”

4. Are you single or taken?

He utters a brief laugher, “Well... it is sth... complicated.”, and he swiftly pets the jawbone hanging around his neck, “And no. No futher comment for.” His right hand rises to hush the person infront of him.

5. Have any abilities or powers?

“Well, I used to close the holes in the sky with that glowy magical thing on my hand but now it is more like a huge pain in the ass...”, in a stern honest he glares to his left hand. *I am quite good with the bow?”, he looks up while Sera giggles out laud in the brackground and he turned his head slightly around to her, smiling. “Yes, I am and you know it!” Sera snorts and giggles louder.

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

”By the dread -”, he begins and stopps immediatly, “...fuck it.”, just a whisper is to hear, “A what?”, Sam’ael looks confused to the others around him. ”What is that supposed to mean?” 7. What’s your eye color?

He bend over and stares straight to the interviewer...

“As you can see?”, and smirks.

8. How about your hair color?

“You’re kidding....” and an arkward break happens . “Ehm, well. Brown-reddish.”

9. Have you any family members?

“My whole clan, actually. And my companions, on who I grew, too. It is not just blood, like anyone want it to be.”

10. Oh? What about pets?

“Pets.”, he repeated, “How odd.” Now the interviewer looks confused. “I like the company of animals, yes. Except of huge spiders...”, Sam’ael wispers to himself. “But completly free as they like. Not that I own them.”

11. That’s cool I guess, now tell me about something you don’t like.

“You know exactly how dangerous ANY answer of this can be for me and or the former ppl of the Inquisition.”, and a huge smirk appears on his lips.

“So, let’s keep it simple. Cities. Loud, crowdy cities. How can you manage to live there? To ever get used to that?”, he ask desperately. “Oh, come on, ‘Quiz-- I mean, Sam’i. Don’t do that elfy thing, will ya?!”, Sera rolls with the eyes. “Oh, come on! Don’t do that non-elfy thing, will ya?”, he echoes her tone grinning.

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?

“Find places to hide, take a lot of books and arty things with me. And escape in a forgotten or commonly unknown world? Playing some lute? Drinking in taverns? Maybe mocking some nobles? Training my aiming with the bow? “Fucking some elfy-elf and thinking no one is around? ... Ewgh.”, a girl-voice adds. “SERA.”, he turns back, eyes wided and got another idea. “Ah! Sitting in huge spas and having some cheese weels on my eyes! That was great!”

13. Ever hurt anyone before?

“Sure.”

14. Ever… killed anyone before?

“Indeed. But not that’s sth. I quite like to do..”

15. What kind of animal are you?

“I guess sth. like an eagle or a hawk.” He looks far away while thinking of some animals.

16. Name your worst habits.

“Too much thinking, too much caring. Maybe low self-care.? And a bit too flirty. The more drinking before, the worst it gets.”, he winks.

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

“Yes. In our ranks workes an really talented mages with much of knowledge for those who want to listen. Such ppl are rare and I enjoyed hi--”, again he gets interrupted. “Oh yea, he REALLY enjoyed this special freaky.” And while Sera finishes laughing, she gets dragged out of the room by Sam’ael. “By Elganan. Too much information she knows. Thanks Varric.”, he snorts.

18. Gay, straight, or bisexual?

“Many hints were already given, so it is no langer a neccessary secret. I am pansexual. Preference to a fascinating character of someone.”

“Generally.” he adds, and get reminded of some flirty and spontaniously activities with a quite fascinating qunari warrior.

19. Do you go to school?

“I got sth like that in my clan, yes. Unfortunatly not that intense education like a keeper’s first - I have no magical abilities - but I was quite motivated to be as good as them I could manage.”

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“Who knows.”, he waves aside the question.

21. Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

He snorts while laughing.

22. What are you most afraid of?

“Being left alone. Made responsible for any little failure I could have made. Especially while running the Inquisition, you know. The preasure and weight on your shoulders. You can easily break, if you try to keep all by yourself.” Sam’ael clears his throat, “But someone was needed and... I already got quite deep in that mess with this mark on my hand...”, he shruggs.

23. What do you usually wear?

“That quite fancy pyjama, I currently wear?”, he smiles. “I really love it

24. Do you love someone?

He only nods sadly.

25. When was the last time you wet yourself?

“Oh shitty boy, did you EVER fight against 2 blighted orks and one powerful emissary?! In the deepest fucking caves you ever was?!”, he  fursiously gestures while speaking. “You can be lucky if you just wet yourself, man!”

26. Well, it’s not over yet!

“It’s about time I need a drink, I guess.”, he crossed his legs again and rests his head on his fist.

27. What class are you? (High class, middle class, low class)

“For the most of Thedas the lowest. And you know it yourself quite well, right.”

28. How many friends do you have?

“A few, but quite good!”, he smiles while thinking of really knowing ppl behind his back.

29. What are your thoughts on pie?

“Give me some of these filly little cakes of Orlaise and I am aaaaall yours.”, he winks confidently.

30. Favorite drink?

“Rum. Especially our home made one. Your shem’s is... drinkable.”, Sam’ael admits coy.

31. What’s your favorite place?

“The emerald graves are fascinating. And so peaceful and calming.”, he dreamly replies. “Except for the giants - better keep distance.” , he adds. “But in contrary, the Fallow mire with its dark and mysterious secrets and tragedy is hella exciting, too.”

32. Are you interested in someone?

“In someone, yes.”

33. What’s your bra cup size and/or how big is your willy?

“Who is asking?“, a brow is rising slowly by this strange question.

34. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

“Both, I guess.”

35. What’s your type?

“Have character. With all your good and also odd habits.”

36. Any fetishes?

“Oh, yes. Maybe The Iron Bull will tell you more about, if you ask nicely?”

37. Seme or uke? Top or Bottom? Dominant or Submissive?

“Isn’t it boring to be put in just one role?”, he asks opently and tilts his head.

38. Camping or indoors?

“I am used to camping, but Fuck. After sleeping in such huge bed it is quite easy to choose indoors.”

39. Are you wanting the interview to end?

“For fucks sake, please. I really need a drink right now.”

40. Now it’s over! Tag 3 people

“Thank you!”, and immedialy, after a short bow, he steps aside Bull taking his drink.

tagging: @loohconrado @morganeskylar & whomever wants to do it.

[usuknetwork]

USUK Christmas Countdown 2017: December 15 #1

Title: Just a Dash of Magic Day 3: Magic Summary: Arthur would rather mope during Christmas, but Alfred has other plans. Rating: T Warning: Minimal cussing, offscreen minor character death   

(Written by: @soda-rebel and Art by: @jellyfist) 

There’s always a sort of mysterious feeling that settles with the snow. Not in the sense of chills that tingle deep in the bones, no. It’s more how the familiar somehow becomes unfamiliar, how memory-laden paths can easily lose their softness to overwhelming white. On such cold-caked paths of newness, there something stirs. It’s something ethereal, something otherworldly, something...magical. But in due time.

Of course, Arthur had always found snow to be something of a hindrance. Snow. Ice. Heck, even just the beginning of fall was tedious. The herbs he had easily stocked during the spring were always, always, killed by frost. No, there was nothing Arthur liked about the winter. Unfortunately, his cottage had been built from the draftiest parts of a hollowed oak tree. He didn’t like how the frigid fingers of cold would creep under the heavy door of his home. He didn’t like the silence that came with the receded animals; only death should ever be this quiet. He didn’t like that his...lover, would try to change his negative predisposition on the matter. Though it wasn’t the first (and definitely wouldn’t be the last) time Alfred F. Jones tried to ‘domesticize’ him. At least that’s what Arthur liked to call it. Though he supposed Alfred just couldn’t help it. There was a certain wildness to Arthur, a foreignness that intrigued almost as much as it frightened. But it wasn’t the wildness most were familiar with. It wasn’t like a hawk, with its terror dipped talons and see-all gaze. It wasn’t like a horse, with equally endless spirit and fury. What lay in Arthur was an eye grabbing newness. Newness that could break and burn and beat. Of course that made it all the more valuable to have. Time and time again, Alfred would come to him asking for more wildness and more danger. He’d ask Arthur to come with him, saying that Arthur could belong. While his love certainly did belong among the humans, Arthur was what many would call an abomination. In less extreme terms, he had always been an outcast. Maybe even a hermit. Besides, there was nothing he could do to hide what stirred beneath his surface, and he felt no need to change a past that he cared little about.

Ever since his birth, the villagers knew something was off. Little Arthur Kirkland, with eyes green like a snake, but sharp like a raven. Little Arthur Kirkland, face rounded like a doll’s, but skin pallid like a corpse. Little Arthur Kirkland, with the body of a human, but the blood of a witch. Of course, precautious people have a certain knack for labeling and preparing for these sort of things. Before he could even talk, the villagers had stockpiled weapons against him, a toddler no less! They told their children, their children’s children, and any town willing to listen. And then they waited for dear, sweet little Arthur to make a mistake.

Arthur, naive as he was, thought that a war was coming to his home. He knew from what he recalled of his mother-- before she was sent off to sea by the village --that there was something otherworldly about him. Luckily enough, she had left him journals and notes on how to control whatever power he had. Ignoring his father’s warnings, wanting to prove that he could be of use despite his strangeness, Arthur dabbled in spells. He liked how healing spells felt like a swim in warm honey, but hated the way the air seemed to stick to everything afterwards. Hexing was fun, but the after effect always smelled of burning skunk cabbage (a ghastly smell). White magic felt like layers of mint on his skin, an unwelcome burn. And then he tried black magic. Now that was something else. It sizzled and whispered to the stale air. Whenever Arthur called, it would leap from him like a stallion, tearing into the skin of silence, making it bleed the aura and power magic usually held. Power, power, power.

Of course, there were days when black magic would turn on him like the wild beast it was. Sometimes Arthur’s fingers would burn from taming it. He could even remember when his little pink nail-beds darkened from soot and magical essence. At one point, Arthur strained himself so much that his veins were blackened from yanking out the magic time and time again. But he liked it. So he never stopped.

It was foolish of him to think they’d understand his intentions. Arthur had only wanted to show that he could defend the village now, that they never needed to fear anything ever again. All it took was a small explosion of dark flames from his magic to alarm the humans. And that was how he discovered it was never a forest they were preparing to fight. It had always been him. When those he had thought were friends, family almost, surrounded him with pitchforks and fire, Arthur panicked and whispered for the only thing he could trust. He would soon regret not thinking of a precise spell that day; all Arthur had wanted at the time was to fly far away. The magic answered and whisked him away in a flurry of feathers to the empty center of a forest.

Arthur remembered how cold it had been there in the morning snow. He remembered how he sat there for hours, unable to believe what had happened. He remembered how he couldn’t stop shaking in his thin nightshirt (he hadn’t had the time to change). It was not until Arthur glanced at some ice that he noticed something different about himself. Multiple wheat-colored feathers were firmly imbedded into his neck, contrasting the rapidly darkening soft blue of his frostbitten skin. Arthur stilled when he didn’t find any wings attached to his back, but only a little. He tried for hours to rip them out: the frill around his neck, the few feathers around the back of his head, and the small feathers that clung to his shoulders. But when one was gone another just took its place. He felt so helpless, so alone. When Arthur calmed down enough after his panic, he cried, knowing the truth about his mother’s ‘holiday’ to the sea and knowing what would happen to his father. He never cried again.

What had he been thinking about before his nostalgia trip? Yes, yes the snow. The snow was cruel. Arthur hated the snow. Half his clothes were light shirts and the rest were cloaks! Not to mention his hands. Cold weather always made his hands act up. They were tender from years of abuse from his magic, but at least it was manageable in spring. He actually needed gloves in winter. Gloves! The disgrace! That reminded him, he should put on gloves.

Arthur scolded himself out loud for a few minutes on how he wasted so much time on useless memories. He pushed himself out of his bed--though it was more a nest of quilts on a hammock-- to the cold wood floor. Pausing first to fluff the spot where feathers and hair melted together, he set off to look for gloves to stop the aching in his fingers. He checked by the round window, the only window, swearing that he had set it there before. It wasn’t there.

Maybe by the? No. If only his cottage wasn’t so cluttered. It was small, having only a cooking/brewing area, a table to eat at, and a bed that was somewhat tucked into the wall, but he had so much stuff! There were the hanging and hidden jars holding his wilting herbs; Arthur always tripped over those. Miscellaneous pots and cauldrons filled the dining area, a few upturned ones even served as his stools. The kitchen? To put it lightly, it still needed some love after his botched attempt at cooking with magic. But most of all, sparkly, dangly, glittering knick knacks were strewn everywhere. Some hung from the ceiling because they caught the sun just right and worked as a natural morning alarm. A few seemingly endless bracelets tumbled from the small table (with the cauldron chairs) onto the floor. Arthur just honestly liked shiny things, developing a bad habit of finding and pocketing them. He never wore any of it really, he just liked how they looked. Perhaps that too was from the spell. Speaking of pretty things…

“Alfred, I’m not ready to head out yet,” Arthur called. Not that Alfred would wait outside anyway. He bustled inside, stomping off the white from his shoes and leaving them with his heavy winter coat by the door. Then he bolted to the kitchen.

“Artie it’s so cold! Did you go out yet? No, wait, don’t do that. It’s really really cold,” Alfred stammered as he practically collapsed by the fire-lit stove, thankful for its warmth.

Arthur smiled at the exaggerated antics. Feigning a hurt voice he said, “How rude, I haven’t seen you in weeks love, and the first thing you embrace is my stove.” Silence. Draping an arm across his eyes, Arthur moaned, “What a life, for my first and only lover to choose kitchenware over me! What a cruel fate! Woe is me! The end is neigh!” He would have continued if Alfred hadn’t run over to press half frozen kisses onto his face.

“You know” --kiss-- “I love” --kiss-- “you” --kiss-- “but” --kiss, kiss-- “I’m freezing!” Arthur indulged him, pretending to still be deeply wounded by his preference of cast iron as opposed to warm flesh. He wasn’t able to enjoy the moment for long. As quickly as he ran over, Alfred skittered back to, and almost fell face first on top of, the radiating stove. Apparently hints were lost on the clueless. Arthur sighed, already feeling the kisses evaporate from his skin. He made a show of walking and diving under the covers of his bed, feeling his feathers puff up from irritation. Under the blankets, a cold sensation startled him, making the feathers near his neck ruffle excitedly. Arthur was more than disappointed to find the cause to be his missing gloves and not an oven-detached Alfred. Honestly, fuck the snow.

Alfred must have noticed his boyfriend’s pouting, eventually padding over to and snuggling with Arthur in the hammock. Starved for attention, Arthur melted into the embrace, happy for the added heat. Alfred pressed his face into some of Arthur’s soft shoulder fluff and inhaled deeply. It smelled of pine, cinnamon, and a dash of magic. Alfred buried his face deeper until he almost sneezed. Luckily he’d been through enough snuggle sessions to know when to stop. To Arthur’s embarrassment, the feathers that coated his neck puffed up in response. He forced them to lay flat, pushing them down with his hand, but after a few seconds of Alfred’s nuzzling, they just flew back up. Arthur sighed and let the troublesome feathers be.

For a while the only sound was the soft crinkling of burning wood from the stove and twinkling from a few disturbed trinkets. Arthur had to admit, he enjoyed moments like this. Him and Alfred just sitting together, pretending like a world didn’t exist outside their arms. Well, not a world Arthur wanted to take part in anyway. Sadly it didn’t last. Alfred was starting to get fidgety. He would be playing with the blankets for one moment then switch to gently petting Arthur’s feathers the next.   

“Alfred,” Arthur began, “You seem anxious. Is there something you wanted to do?” Alfred practically glowed with excitement.

“Actually, yeah Art. I was wondering if you, ya know, wanted to do anything festive? Maybe build a snowman or somethin’?”

“You mean you want to go outside?” Arthur asked. He stared at Alfred, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Alfred faltered under Arthur’s stare. “Uh yeah…” he mumbled.

“I thought you said it was too cold.”

An urgency seemed to spark from Alfred. “But who doesn’t go outside when it’s Christmas! I know you don’t really celebrate it, but you’ve been cooped”--Arthur’s feathers ruffled irritably-- “er, holed up in here like all forever! Don’t you wanna go outside a little?”

Arthur huffed. “No, no I would rather not.” Crossing his arms, Arthur hoped he made it clear that he wouldn’t be moving an inch for the rest of the evening. In his pouting fit, Arthur felt a lack of warmth, a lack of Alfred. From of the corner of his eye he could see just how dejected Alfred looked. His lip was even quivering the way children did when they were upset. Arthur was a sucker for those. Alfred did walk all the way there just to see him. “Fine,” Arthur relented, the guilt getting to him. “But only one snowman.”

Alfred immediately beamed at him and scrambled to get out of bed, almost throwing them both to the floor. He apologised with a quick kiss to Arthur’s cheek and rushed to throw on his coat and boots. Arthur opted for a green cloak that had been laying in a pile on the floor. He really needed to tidy up.

“Are you sure you’ll be warm enough in that Artie?” Alfred asked, worried that his boyfriend would turn into an icicle.

Arthur looked down at his clothes: the usual thin shirt, loose pants, plain boots, and the cloak he picked out. “Besides my gloves,” --he paused to grab them from the blankets-- “I think I’ll be just fine Alfred.”

Alfred shrugged. “If you say so.”

Arthur hesitated for a moment when it came time to nudge open the door. He was about to be assaulted by icy winds he had avoided so well. He heard Alfred ask a question, probably about his choice in clothing, and assured him he was fine. Slowly, slow enough for the hinges to squeal, Arthur let in the cold. He could feel as warmth drained from his skin and fell under the floorboards. His feathers pressed down and against his neck, trying to save what little warmth hadn’t dripped away. The wind felt like an icy whip that danced and lacerated anything that lived. It didn’t seem to bother Alfred though.

Alfred seemed to have bloomed at the sight of snow, the first burst of cold giving his eyes a glorious shine. As Alfred sprinted past him to a clearing a few feet away, Arthur stood and watched from the doorway. He couldn’t help but think that Alfred was made for this weather. Those blue, blue eyes were beautifully preserved slices of winter, intense like the frozen waters but as soft as freshly fallen snow. Yet they always held the warmth of a soft spring day. In a way, it was magical.    

“Artie!” Alfred hollered before flopping backwards on the snow. “Come make a snow angel with me!”

Arthur suppressed a chuckle--well, more like covered his mouth with his hand--as he watched Alfred flap his arms and legs. “You’re going to get colder like that Alfred,” he scolded, but not without a smile.

“But it’s fuuun,” Alfred laughed. “C’mon, don’t be so stuffy.”

“Stuffy?” he asked in an amused voice. Arthur’s eyes glinted with mischief. He ran out from his spot, not caring about the cold for once shouting, “I’ll show you stuffy!” With just a little bit of magic and an abrupt hand gesture, all the snow from the branches above Alfred fell on his face. The action surprised him, but the competitive glimmer on his face told Arthur he hadn’t been hurt. With a face that was flushed from cold and joy, Alfred took a scoop of snow from the ground.

“It’s on bird boy!” he shouted, hurling a snowball at Arthur. It hit him directly in the face. Alfred whooped in victory, which was short lived. All it took was a wave of Arthur’s hand for several dozen perfect snowballs to float in the air around them.  

With a slight smirk he said, “You have two options. You can either surrender or face my magic.” He let the dangling snowballs slowly inch forward. It would have been more threatening if they weren’t, well, snowballs. “What’ll it be love?” Arthur asked in a honey dappled voice. Alfred seemed to be assessing his options: get pelted or give up the snowball fight of a lifetime. Just as it looked like he was about to submit, Alfred grabbed the closest hanging snowball and threw it at Arthur. Hitting him square in the chest, it caught him off guard and gave Alfred the perfect chance to run away. “I choose freedom!” he yelled between bits of laughter. The look of astonishment on Arthur’s face was just too hilarious to not laugh at.

Arthur pursued, letting the snowballs crumble back onto the ground. His cloak created a bit of drag, but not enough to interfere. He caught up to Alfred with ease (probably because of his lighter clothing) and tackled him to the ground. Arthur laid his face on Alfred’s chest, hearing his heart flutter with each breath. “Do you surrender now?” he asked between pants. Geez, he really needed to get out more.

Alfred rolled his eyes. “You win this round Art. But you won’t be so lucky next time.”

“Oh?” he chuckled, looking up a tad from his spot on Alfred.

“I’ve been told I’m a master strategist.”

“By who, your mother?”

Alfred pouted and shoved some snow down Arthur’s shirt. Arthur made an ungodly screech and squirmed off Alfred to get the ice out.  

“Foul play!” Arthur yelled, hopping up and down from the sudden cold. He realised his mistake too late. Alfred exploded into fits of laughter, half from the sound Arthur made and half from Arthur’s wording.

“Get it? ‘Cause you have…” Alfred tried to quiet the remaining giggles. Arthur glared, almost daring him to finish the sentence. “Nevermind,” Alfred said with an annoyingly sweet grin. “Anyways, we have snowmen to build.” Gathering himself and patting off the dustings of white, Alfred starting packing snow.

“Here, let me,” Arthur offered. Before Alfred could object, an invisible force swirled the snow until two perfect snowmen stood side by side. Arthur allowed himself a small smile as he stepped back to admire his work. Alfred seemed a little upset for not taking part in creating the snowmen, but he looked more relieved to not have to deal with the tedious procedure. Making himself useful, Alfred gathered some sticks and a few stones to decorate the snowmen with. He shuffled back to Arthur to appreciate the bare snowmen while carrying a small mound of materials. Inspiration seemed to strike as Alfred quickly broke a few twigs and arranged them on a snowman’s face.

“Look Arthur! He has your eyebrows!” It did indeed, the three rows of twigs mimicking the brows on Arthur’s face.

“Very funny Alfred,” Arthur replied. He had to admit though, it was pretty ingenious. Not that he’d ever tell Alfred that.

Together they added a few more details, such as stones for eyes, mouths, and noses. When it came time to add the finishing touch, Alfred insisted that they arranged the stick arms to look like the snowmen were holding hands.

“They’d be sad!” was Alfred’s justification.

“You’re sad,” was Arthur’s retort as he helped Alfred.  

“I’m never sad when I’m around you Artie.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Let’s get back inside, the cold is making you sappier than you already are.” As Arthur turned to head back, he felt a slight tug from his cloak. Alfred was gripping one of the edges gently, his face looking urgent.

“You know I love you right?” Alfred asked. Arthur felt warmth trickling back up to his face while a few of his feathers fluffed up. He swore that no matter how many times he heard those words, they always made him feel so, so warm. Arthur felt the magic in him sizzle and spark just under the surface, reminding him what separated him from the humans. It was peculiar that Alfred never felt threatened. In fact, their entire relationship seemed to casually gloss over how Arthur was a potential danger. But no matter how many times Arthur used his magic, no matter how strange he was, Alfred only seemed to love him all the more.        

“Y-yes. Of course I know that. I love you too Alfred.”  

Hand in hand, they walked back to Arthur’s cottage to snuggle in the hammock again. As Alfred cooed over how pretty Arthur’s feathers looked against the snow and whispered to him promises of the future, he couldn’t help but like the cold for the first time in a long while. Perhaps he had found a place to belong after all.  

[warden-pandora]

Please Ignore for now  *Currently Under Construction*

THE WRATH OF HEAVEN

>> “Mad World” // Tears for Fears [Solas POV]

”The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had”

THE THREAT REMAINS

>> “She” // Green Day

”Are you locked up in a world that’s been planned out for you?”

>> “Smooth Operator” // Sade

”No place for beginners or sensitive hearts, when sentiment is left to chance” 

IN HUSHED WHISPERS

>> “Accelerate” // Susanne Sundfør

“Wars erupting like volcanoes, blood streaming down the walls”

IN YOUR HEART SHALL BURN

>>

.............. 

FROM THE ASHES

>> “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” // Eurythmics

“Everybody's looking for something. Hold your head up, keep your head up.”

>> “sea castle” // Purity Ring [Solas POV]

“I could give you petty rhymes of worlds that I contrived. They're in my sleep, my dreams, I speak them.”

“I FELT THE WHOLE WORLD CHANGE”

>> “Building a Mystery” // Sarah McLachlan

“Can you look out the window without your shadow getting in the way?”

>> “Skinny Love (Bon Iver Cover)” // Birdy

”I tell my love to wreck it all“

>> “Arty Boy (Feat. Emma Louise)” // Flight Facilities

“Oh, every part of me wants every part of you. Oh, you're so different, you're my perfect kind of fool.”

>> “Five Seconds” // Twin Shadow

“Linking arms to the right time, drop your head to please mine”

>> “Dreaming of You” // Selena

“I just want to hold you close, but so far, all I have are dreams of you...”

>> “I Might” // Tom Grennan [Solas POV]

“Don't want no one messing up my bed, fucking with my head, it's no lie. But when you look at me like that, I might...”

ALL NEW, FADED FOR HER

>>  “Fade Away” // Susanne Sundfør

”The sound of your heart, it sounds lonely“ 

“AR LATH MA, VHENAN”

>>  “This Must Be the Place (Talking Heads Cover)” // Kishi Bashi [Solas POV]

”I'm just an animal looking for a home”

>> “Drowned World/Substitue for Love” // Madonna [Solas POV]

“I traveled round the world looking for a home, I found myself in crowded rooms feeling so alone”

>> “Eaten Alive” // Diana Ross [Solas POV]

“I'm a sucker for someone, and I got the prey in sight, lying on a bed of leaves...”

>> “It Had to Be You” // Frank Sinatra [Solas POV]

“I wandered around and finally found, that somebody who could make me be true, could make me feel blue. And even be glad just to be sad, thinking of you.”

>> “Loving the Animal” // Superet [Solas POV]

“I've questioned every choice we've made... I tried to melt you from this gold, left a taste in my mouth but I still taste gold.”

>> “Only You” // The Platters [Solas POV]

“You're my dream come true, my one and only you. Only you can make this change in me.”

WICKED EYES AMD WICKED HEARTS

>> “Concerto in G Minor for Violin, Strings and Continuo, Op. 8, No. 2, Rv. 315 'Estate” (Summer): III. Presto” // Vivaldi

Instrumental

HERE LIES THE ABYSS

>>  “Wonder Woman’s Wrath” //

Instrumental

>> “Shout” // Tears for Fears

”In violent times you shouldn't have to sell your soul”

WHAT PRIDE HAD WROUGHT

>> “Wolf” // First Aid Kit

"And I hope for a trace to lead me back home from this place.”

WELL OF SORROWS

>>

.............. 

“AR LASSA MALA REVAS”

>> “Fly” // Ludovico Einaudi

Instrumental

“I AM SORRY”

>> “Water Under the Bridge” // Adele

”It's so cold out here in your wilderness, I want you to be my keeper”

>> “The Smell of Us” // The Dove & The Wolf

"Can we make it last a little longer? Don’t leave my bed just yet... How am I supposed to forget the smell of us?”

>> “Are You Hurting the One You Love?” // Florence + The Machine [Solas POV]

”Are you hurting the one you love? You'd like to stay in heaven but the rules are too tough” 

>> “High Enough to Carry You Over” // CHVRCHES

“If I could see you now, if you would listen, every fault would fade into the distance”

>> “Ambulance” // Eisley

”And is it really safe to say that we're just made that way? Made to brave the pain”

>> “Vanessa” // Del Water Gap

“I just wanted to tell her ‘I won't deal with this peacefully, no, I'm just not like that’”

>> “My Heart is the Worst Kind of Weapon” // Fallout Boy

“I'm the kind of kid that can't let anything go, but you wouldn't know a good thing if it came up and slit your throat.”

>> “High and Dry” // Radiohead

“It's the best thing that you ever had, the best thing you have had is gone away.”

DOOM UPON ALL THE WORLD

>> “Paper Tiger” // Rachel K Coolier [Fighting Corypheus]

 "I’ve seen pride come before a fall, too proud to bow down at all.”

POST CORYPHEUS DEFEAT

>> “Darlings” // Susanne Sundfør

” We thought love could change our names and free us from our earthly chains"

>> “Almost Lover” // A Fine Frenzy 

“Well, I never want to see you unhappy, I thought you'd want the same for me.”

>> “Here with Me (Feat. Dido)” // Rollo

“I don't want to call my friends... They might wake me from this dream. And I can't leave this bed, risk forgetting all that's been.”

>> “Love Song (Extended Mix) // The Cure [Solas POV]

“However far away, I will always love you.”

>> “You Stole My Heart Away” // Niki and the Dove

“And people ask me how I'm doing, but I just pretend I cannot hear them. They're just strangers to me.”

>> “Where’s My Love?” // SYML

Instrumental

>> “Goodbye, Sweet Mango” // Valley Hush [Solas POV]

“’Please don't go,’ [s]he said to me, our laughter echoing, as I am boarding my plane. I'll be back, I swear. I can promise you that, I just can't promise you when.”

>> “Outspoken Dirtbiker” // Islands [Solas POV]

“And all I want to do is sleep in. I don't want to win anything. Every race will end, I don't want to win anything.”

>> “The Apple” // V V Brown

“Our love crashed before our lives. Don't bring me down.”

>> “Only One” // Little Dragon

“Not even river on a cheek... She sat across the bar for weeks, getting sober.”

>>“By My Side” // Porches [Solas POV]

“I believe our love is true truer than I've ever known...”

TRESPASSER

>> “Chemical Prisoner” // Falling In Reverse

“There's two wolves battling us all right now. One's good, the other one's evil. If you're wondering which wolf inside will succeed...Simple, it's the one that you feed.”

>> “Leave a Trace” // CHVRCHES

“And I know you'll never fold, but I believe nothing that I'm told”

>> “Foolish Games” // Jewel

“You'd teach me of honest things, things that were daring, things that were clean...”

>> “Wolves Still Cry” // Lawrence Rothman

“A face that lost a thousand ships but there's nothing I can do to save your... Life is in your hands and I don’t believe you anymore.”

>> “Howl” // Florence + The Machine [Solas POV]

“My fingers claw your skin, try to tear my way in. You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to howl.”

>> “Call Off Your Ghost” // Dessa

“And it's better to just pretend that I can't see you waiting, can't hear you call my name and I know how much you hate it”

>> “The Man Who Sold the World” // David Bowie [Solas POV]

For years and years I roamed, I gazed a gaze-less stare. We walked a million hills... I must have died alone a long, long time ago...

>> “Monster” // BIG BANG [Solas POV]

“Your existence is a chronic disease, a repetition of pain. You’re a lingering attachment in my heart”

>> “No One’s God” // Saint Cava

“Lose myself for someone I can’t buy... But didn’t he already try and tell me he is no one’s god.”

“OUT OF TIME”

>> “Square One (feat. MAX)” // Grandtheft [Solas POV]

“I’m back at square one and there’s no turning back to what we were and all we had. Ain’t nothing I can do ‘bout that, I know I let— I know I let you down”

>>“Frozen” // Madonna (Nim POV)

“You only see what your eyes want to see... How can life be what you want it to be?”

>>  “Come Undone” // Duran Duran [Solas POV]

“Can't ever keep from falling apart at the seams... Can I believe you're taking my heart to pieces?”

>> “Cosmic Love” // Florence + The Machine 

“The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out. You left me in the dark... No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight.”

>> “Wasted Times” // the Weeknd

“And even though you put my life through hell, I can't seem to forget 'bout you, 'bout you. I want you to myself.”

>> “Get Out” // CHVRCHES [Solas POV]

”So do you want to turn it around? And do you want to show me how?”

>> “No Pride in Paradise” // The New Division

“You're working on the side, you make another enemy. It's hard to play the cards when you're working for the man... All the truth and the lies... There's no pride in paradise.”

>> “I Love You But I’m Lost” // Tears for Fears

“Too many people were talking without moving their mouths. Smell the gaze, smell the lights, ever wondered 'bout the lies that have stolen my thunder...”

>> “God Knows (The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya Cover)” // AmaLee

“Let’s escape and chase after the dreams we both create and maybe then we’ll mend, so then you can transcend beyond your lonely heart.”

>> “X-Communicate” // Kristin Kontrol

“Just when I think that you have had enough, your embrace melts the ice from my tongue.“

>> "I Have Nothing” // Whitney Houston

“Stay in my arms if you dare, or must I imagine you there?”

POST TRESPASSER

>> “Shame (Whole Heart Howl)” // Gene Loves Jezebel [Solas POV]

“And I call. And pray that you'll appear. I slip into the shade. Will you save me anyway?”

>>  “Lover, Where Do You Live?” // Highasakite  

“And if I ever see you, again my Love, all I'm ever gonna do is set the shivers down that spine of yours...”

>> “Crying in the Rain” // A-Ha [Solas POV]

“I'll never let you see the way my broken heart is hurting me. I've got my pride and I know how to hide all the sorrow and pain.”

>> “Running With the Wolves” // AURORA [Solas POV]

“A million voices inside my dreams... My heart is left so incomplete”

>> “My Silver Lining” // First Aid Kit

“I try not to hold on to what is gone, I try to do right what is wrong. I try to keep on keeping on.”

>> “Dark Doo Wop” // MS MR

“This world is gonna burn, burn burn burn. As long as we're going down, Baby you should stick around.”

>> “Insomnia” // Faithless [Solas POV]

“Insomnia please release me and let me dream of makin' mad love to my girl on the heath, tearin' off tights with my teeth...keep the beast in my nature under ceaseless attack “

>> “The Power of Goodbye” // Madonna

“You were my lesson I had to learn, I was your fortress you had to burn.”

>> “Gone” // Madonna

“Dream away your life, someone else's dream. Nothing equals nothing.”

>> “In Dreams” // Empress Of

“Sólo en sueños (only in dreams), in my dreams you come to see me.”

>> “Odeum” // Gin Wigmore

“Your kingdom fell and took apart that little beast that made your heart...“

DA:4

>> “Memorial” // Susanne Sundfør

“I dreamt the gods descended, I dreamt that time had ended”

>> “Rewind (Feat. Missing Words)” // The New Division [Solas POV]

“ I'll try to see the world through your eyes, I'll try to find some hope inside “

[28allthelove28]

Pink Dolphin - Fionn Whitehead Fan Fiction (13500 words)

Everything is red. The sun looks bigger than it normally does, and it always sets the sky on fire. Dark shadows swim into unknown corners and the ocean is always pink, but Fionn can’t go home. Not until the plan falls into place. Fionn is not leaving this surreal pink film set until he’s honest with Alana, the mysterious artist girl with pale skin and hair like a flame. And Harry is there to make sure neither of his friends waste any more time pretending they aren’t in love.

13000+ words of pining, pet names, conceptual art and true friendship. Meet Me In The Hallway, a big plot twist, some long smut scenes*, and a love of nature. Harry is married to Louis, he’s acting with Fionn in an art film that his best friend Alana wrote and throughout the nervous giggles, there is a happy ending for everyone.

I put a stupid amount of time and effort into writing this so I no longer have any idea if it’s wonderful or terrible, and I’m pretty embarrassed about it, but please, please do read (It definitely gets sooo much better as it goes, I think Chapter 2 is my favourite)  This will hopefully be on Archive of our Own soon! 

Also, a WARNING to any of my friends reading this, parts of this are pretty explicit, sorry!!! Xx

 PINK DOLPHIN

 “She’s ridiculous!”

The words hiss from Fionns mouth before he realises he’s let them out. His eyes squint, following the droplets of water travelling down Alana’s body, as if her white skin is too bright for him. Her arms hang around Polly’s waist, their fingers linked loosely. They look like a renaissance mother and child.  

“She doesn’t like LA, you know?” A deep voice speaks and startles Fionn. He blinks himself back into consciousness and looks down to the left of him. Harry peers up at him with a smug smile, he looks more playful than normal. He knows.

“She doesn’t really like LA.” Harry repeats, following Fionn’s line of vision to the girl sitting across from them. The two boys are lying together lazily by the side of the outdoor pool, warm evening air sitting heavily above them, and the orange sun falling into the sea. Harry’s been anticipating this conversation for a while. A long while.

“No?” Fionn leans back. The weird pink cocktails reveal the interest in his face a lot more than he may allow if he were slightly more sober. Harry sits up, wrapping a sheer floral blouse round the butterfly tattooed on his chest. He’s prepared for this, and the time is now.

“Alana’s been here for months, Fionn, even before starting this weird film project with us. Yeah, she got that studio deal here, and she made good friends through work …she’s been preparing for this film a lot, she’s been writing and drawing as usual, but she can do all of that stuff at home just as easily. The weather is much nicer here, for sure. She likes the landscape and the wildlife but nobody, nobody loves Newcastle as much as Alana.”

Fionn accepts that this speech is going somewhere.

“Her mum’s there, up north. Her closest friends are there. And it’s not just that, Fi, if she’s not been here then she’s been in London. And the exact same goes for there too. She likes it of course, she’s always got plenty to do, but it’s just not her home.” Harry says. “And this has been going on for over a year.”

Harry looks at his friend and realises he still needs to be more obvious. “Alana is only in LA or London when you are in LA or London.”

Fionn pushes air from his nose in an almost violent sigh. He knew something was coming. Something was going to happen on this film set. Something beyond his control. Something more real than he could ignore. Not that he was even sure he wanted to ignore it anymore.

He lays further back on the strange pink sun lounger he’s melted himself onto, and he cradles his head theatrically. He absolutely knew it.

There was something about the light in Alana’s eyes which shone brighter when looking into his. There was something about the way sun fell on her red hair which made it glow golden, like leaves in autumn, like a colour Fionn had never seen before, and can now only associate with her. There was something about the way her presence in a room made itself known to Fionn before he even reached the doorway. There was a tenderness in Alana’s voice that sounded more intimate when she spoke to him. As if every word were plucked from a letter she’d written that no one else were allowed to read, and that, honestly, Fionn didn’t want anyone else to read.

Of course he knew it.

He was just terrified to admit it.

Harry’s hand gently holds Fionn’s knee. He can feel Harry’s silver rings cold against his skin. “I know her Fionn. She’s my best friend, and has been for years.” He gives Fionn’s knee a little squeeze. “I know how she loves.”

Harry slides his thumb over Fionn’s skin once more then takes his hand away. “Alana’s more vulnerable and shy than you’d think, but when she’s certain on something, she’s certain.” He continues. “She’s busy, her mind never stops, not for a second. She’s so impatient. But here she is, a year after meeting you… still there. Right fucking, there!” Harry nods his head to the other side of the pool for more affect, his brown hair swishing into his eyes, and Fionn allows himself to see her.

His green eyes lift to gaze through the glasses pushed up on his nose. He sees her bright floral dress hanging loose, hair clipped into a curl behind her ear, and a camera in her hands. Alana films her friends watching the peacock butterflies fly around lilac buddleia flowers with a smile on her face. Always a smile on her face.

“I don’t want her waiting forever Fionn, and I don’t think you do either.”

Fionn meets Harry’s eyes and smiles. Bless him. Bless him for doing this. He doesn’t deserve someone like Harry, or someone like Alana. “She’s so nice to everyone, Harry. I love the way that her eyebrows curve into the top of her nose. I love how she always asks questions, and how she’s always excited by everything… as if it’s all new. I’m just… fuck. I’m just a bit scared.” Fionn confesses. “Quite a lot scared.”

“That’s ok, Fionn. So is she. She’s terrified! And it is scary.” Harry says this calmly with all the wisdom of an old woman, but there is a glint of excitement in his eye. He loves drama. But Harry knows exactly what he’s talking about. “You don’t think I was scared when I told Louis how I felt about him when I was just 16? But look now, almost 8 years later, we’re married and he basically re-proposes to me again every month.”

The two of them laugh and Fionn realises he might be being over dramatic. Fionn is far from unlovable, he isn’t hopeless, and he isn’t even sure why or when he started to think he might have been. He isn’t too busy. Maybe he isn’t even too shy. He’s actually completely fine, and he does deserve this. He does want this. A lot.

Alana isn’t some ethereal princess or the most beautiful person in the world. She’s quite odd. Her face is both angular and soft at the same time. Pale but often with blushing cheeks. Thick eyebrows and thin hair. A bit funny looking if you really think about it, but just lovely. Pretty in the way which art is pretty. But she’s just another human. An incredibly lovely one, yes, but another human nonetheless, and Fionn is going to be honest with her, in whichever way he has to be.

“Thank you, Harry. Thank you so much for everything. You’re an absolute sweetheart and I’m very grateful for you.” Fionn grins and squeezes Harry’s chin, pressing into his dimples.

“Anytime, Finley, you handsome and wonderful man!” He grins back. “Count yourself lucky that I’m letting you both go, but I’ll be keeping watch.” He warns. “You two will be wonderful. Please just go for it, love.”

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

The film set they’re all working on is odd, of course it is though. The whole project is bizarre, but in the most excellent way. The buzz transcends the cast and crew, it seems that everyone is excited about this movie. Alana and her friend Polly had the idea. They shared a studio together in Newcastle and Alana had performed in several of Polly’s videos before. They describe this project as a film which isn’t so much a film, but more so a film about the idea of a film. And this idea for the film is discussed and questioned by the cast as it morphs and grows, but all in a poetic and romantic way. The owner of the idea narrates the film and explains which aspects are clear and which are undecided. The focus is on the atmosphere and the visuals more than the structure. A feeling more than a story.

Everyone involved received a pink envelope with a hand written letter inside, inviting them to collaborate in whichever way they wanted. The film is essentially an art piece and the actors are essentially performers. The package also included postcards of paintings which inspired the set, mainly David Hockney’s brightly coloured swimming pools, as well as notes and sketches from Alana and Polly themselves, referencing the ideas which fuelled their project, and offering some quotes from the narration.

“Maybe sharing your thoughts is more revealing than sharing the work which the thoughts made. ….One loose, unresolved, foetal, dreamlike thought can inspire concrete ideas, or maybe just an idea can be enough in itself.”

“Art allows you to somehow make real the thoughts which would otherwise only exist as imagination.”

Initially Fionn found it a little hard to follow. Very arty. Maybe even a bit ‘Inception’. But there was something new about it, something honest and very compelling. Harry was all over it of course, and Fionn always likes a challenge. He’d started off in the theatre, doing plays about social media and queer rights. He did a TV show about a troubled boy with telekinetic abilities and then a film about a young war soldier trying to get home. That’s how he’d met Harry, through whom he’d then met Alana.

After months of them purposefully and in-purposefully bumping into each other in London and ultimately becoming somewhat close friends, neither Fionn nor Alana fully entered or fully left the other’s lives.

They both intend to fix that now.

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

There is a definite colour scheme to the film set. Very warm and soft, but also quite sinister. All the furniture is clothed in fluffy fabrics of a deep orange, there is hot pink neon tube lighting drawing a continuous line over every corner, it’s always dark inside and most of the walls are painted in a glossy black or rich red. The sun looks bigger than it normally does and it always sets the sky on fire, black and red butterflies dance around the lush shrubs and the yellow flowers which are planted everywhere. The outdoor pool is made of shimmery bright pink tiles and seems to be the epicentre, when filming or not.

Fionn stretches his arms out and floats on his back, the water laps against his sides and briefly puddles in the dip of his chest, then runs down his body and back into the pool. He drops his head back so his dark hair soaks neatly away from his face and flicks out behind his ears.

“Harry said you don’t like LA?” Fionn questions Alana and playfully splashes a tiny bit of water over her lap. She is perched on the edge of the pool steps, her legs reaching into soft ripples as she twists them in the water, toes painted with a warm peach colour.

“I do.” She smiles, tucking her legs back up and rolling the hem of her striped trousers back down. “Just not as much as home.”

Fionn leaves the water to re-dress into a checked shirt and jeans. He sits by her side and looks at her. “Why have you spent so much time here then? Apart from the film, I mean…”

Alana thoughtfully scans over the water, the sunset is sinking into it and making everything a deeper pink. “The people.” She answers, her eyes smiling cheekily into his.

Surely that wasn’t too obvious? She wonders.

Fionn’s face creases into a smirk and Alana giggles. Good. ‘Just enough’ she thinks.

“I feel like wherever you are, if you have good friends around you, then you’ll be at your happiest.” Alana declares, and Fionn has to agree with her.

“Am I your good friend?” He asks, nudging her in the elbow. He’s feeling cheeky too, and confident.

“Of course, Fionn!” She answers.

No hesitation. Excellent.

“Great.” This is going well, he thinks. And he hears her voice again.

“You’re great. …You’re very cute. Very lovely.” Her cheeks sting a little but she’s seeing this through.

They both laugh and Fionn pretends to shh her. “Oh stop!” He dramatizes. “I think you’re…. I think you’re really wonderful, Alana. Honestly.”

Oh my gosh, he sounds sincere. Keep it together Alana, come on.

“Gee, thanks Fionn!!” She jokes and they laugh more than is necessary, for no particular reason, but they feel comfortable. It’s a nice, light, hopeful feeling. Finally! Something is beginning to happen between them that feels more like ‘something’. They move to lie back on a stretch of grass and watch the clouds darken to red. Alana announces coyly “I think you’re as nice as that sunset.” She’s joking. …maybe half joking.

Fionn barks a loud laugh which sort of pulses his body forward to hang over his knees, he almost surprises himself, it really wasn’t that funny. He looks up to see Alana pulling a mock-disgruntled expression. “Excuse me, Finley, I was being deadly serious, man!”

He chuckles, “I know, that’s why I’m laughing.”

They silently thank God that not many people are nearby, because they’re probably being outrageous. But that’s alright. “Oh, charming!” Her soft Geordie accent thickens slightly.

Fionn can’t help but blush at how endearing she is. “That would have sounded stupid coming from anyone else, but because it’s you, it was very sweet and kind.” He tells her. “Thank you, Alana.”

She can’t believe they’re just sitting there talking to each other. It’s the simplest thing in the world but her body tickles all over. “Good.” She teases him, springing up and jokingly running away. “…Because it’s the last compliment you’re getting, mate!”

She leaves him watching her scamper off, a stupid big grin on both their faces.

Maybe it starts here.

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

Their time spent together is fleeting, Fionn and Alana. But still often. They are both essentially at work. And they both work hard, everybody does. But luckily, because of the personal and creative nature of the project, it was encouraged from the outset that the actors spend all their time together and inhabit the film set as their home, making the whole video more collaborative. The cast is essentially friends of friends, so really, it’s just very social and enjoyable.

Alana and Polly and the rest of the team wanted the character interactions to be real and organic, hence their minimal script, and their emphasis on the actors trusting their instinct and taking more ownership. All the actors and crew started off watching films together which influenced Alana and Polly’s ideas, so they could get more of a collective understanding of the reference points, and of the style they were aiming for. There was a good week spent living on set discussing The Neon Demon, Submarine, High Rise, The Tree of Life, Amelie, and basically Wes Anderson and Stan Brakhage’s filmographies.

The camera crew are filming almost constantly, to capture the candid human interactions. Most of the film will be made in post-production, not necessarily with fancy editing, just piecing the right clips together once all the footage is there, instead of story boarding it all beforehand. The narration and spoken word will be the main thing, with only a few specific scenes being pre-planned. The film basically makes itself as it exists as a living organism.

The core of the whole piece is a poem Alana wrote. The entire film was imagined from it.

 “I cannot make real the thoughts which I imagine, because an imagined thought is not clear.

The thought came to me like a dream.

It was pink.

I saw us by the pool,

Sunken in a foreign sunset,

Foggy and thick.

Warm colours.

Words seeping from our tongues like water and they all reflected in our eyes.

I think of you and see starlings murmorating over the sea,

And swallows flying home.

It is important to share a thought before it expires.”

 This one poem is the only concrete scene in the film, everything else is woozy and unclear - like a thought or a dream. The scene is two people by the pool at sunset, talking. Yet there is no script for it. Polly wanted the actors to be free to feel the experience fully and to say what came to them naturally, and whatever they do, she’ll use. The actors for this scene are Fionn and Alana, playing Toby and Isla, and they film it tomorrow.

Them and the whole cast were prepped as much as they could be, and treated with nothing but kindness and inclusiveness by Polly and the team, and they were mostly guided to just enjoy themselves and go with it. As completely unusual and open ended as the brief is, Fionn and everyone else thought it sounded amazing. He knew it would be a pleasure to work with Harry again, and admittedly, Alana’s allure was as consuming as the atmosphere of the whole film.

*------------------

It’s this allure which Fionn is trying his best to ignore as he makes steps back to his room, intent on rehearsing some more ideas for Toby, but then he sees her.

Fionn sees Alana from across the landing by the lift.

He sees her in a way he doesn’t feel he should see her.

He’s stood on the dark red carpet near the corner of the hotel corridor. A window in front of him. Night begins to fill the sky, but a warm orange glow burns from Alana’s room.

Fionn sees her and he can’t move. He should, but he can’t.

He must walk away now. What is he doing?

He sees her white skin, all of it. It shines against the dark red silk of the bed sheets.

It’s erotic. The lighting. The whole film set. Everything. Why do the lights have to be so warm? Why is the colour of everything so sexy? Why do shadows seep into every corner of wherever Alana is not? Why is Fionn thinking of the colour red when his heart begins to beat like bubbling acid, and his breath bleeds fast out of the cracks in his lips, and his chest rises and falls like waves? And he can’t move. He cannot move.

It’s like she’s a siren and he’s drowning in the Red Sea but her song keeps pulling him back, spluttering.

He shouldn’t look. What the fuck is he doing? It’s wrong. It’s unprofessional. It’s disrespectful. This is his friend. His friend’s friend. This is essentially his boss. It’s wrong. But she’s there, and it’s hot. It’s so hot in here. Fionn can’t think clearly.

Where is everyone else? Why when night falls, does everyone disappear, and why is it always just him and Alana left?

Why is it so hot?

What the hell is happening? How is he seeing this?

This!?

Walk away right now Fionn, stop it. Stop watching her.

But she’s still doing it. And he can’t move.

She’s there. Her bed is right next to the window. Why? It doesn’t matter. Maybe to feel the breeze rush in through the window in the hot mornings. Good. That makes sense. The morning. Her. In the morning. Waking up beside her. Skin. Warm, beneath the covers. Hot. Pale skin beneath pink silk covers.

Her skin.

All of it.

Stop it. Walk away.

It throbs. He feels it. Tight, hot, stiff. There, pressing against him. Hard.

She’s doing it by the window. Of course she is, her bed’s there. Fuck.

Walk away Fionn.

No. God no, oh God. Fuck.

Fucking hell.

He rushes nearer the window that he’s watching her from, he stands behind the curtain. Lays his hand over himself.

He breathes out.

She breathes out. She presses the side of her face into the hot pink cushion.

For God’s sake, what’s wrong with this place? Why is everything dark and pink? What the fuck do they expect to happen?

Don’t touch anymore. Just keep your hand there Fionn, breathe out. Walk away, this is wrong.

Oh, fuck no. God. Look at her! Look at her, fuck.

She’s… She’s actually… Oh my God he can’t believe this.

Her other hand runs up, from her thigh, across her abdomen. He feels it.

Fionn feels her hand across his own abdomen, just below the belly button. He can practically feel his hand on her, sweeping over her skin. Fingertips pressing into her flesh. God. No.

Fionn presses his own hand against his abdomen. He presses his other hand down on himself harder. He sighs out.

Her hand travels up over her stomach, to her breast.

Her face rolls upwards and she presses her head down into the pink pillows, her eyes closed tight.

No. God, no Fionn. Leave now. Fuck.

He sighs out loud and pushes himself away from the window, leaving the dark purple curtain gushing in his wake.

Fionn storms along the corridor. Furious. Strides up to his door and, God. No. Absolutely not.

Not a chance.

“Louis!!”

“Lou! Ahh ah …oh fuckkk”

No.

Please, no.

“Harry! Harry ohhhh, yeah”

“God! Ah ahh fuck, Harryyy”

Fucking hell no.

“Yes, God! Ahh ah yesss”

Do not fuck in the room next to me right now, Harry. For the love of God, no!

“Louis!! Louis! Ahh”

“Fuck, yess!”

No. Please. Not now.

Fionn hurls his own door open, tripping over his own feet, breathing heavily and shutting it firmly behind him.

For God’s sake.

What the hell?

He leans against his door, desperately, then he quickly pulls his shirt up over his head, his glasses come off with them and fly onto the floor. Fionn huffs loudly, flustered and cheeks burning. Furious. He storms towards the bathroom, kicking off his shoes on the way and pulling off his burgundy socks. Fucking burgundy, for God’s sake!

“Ah! Louis, fuck!”

“Fuck fuck fuck Harry, God!! Yes!”

Fionn yanks the bathroom light cord down and switches the shower on. While the water heats up he violently undoes his belt and pushes down his pants and trousers with almost laughable urgency.

This is fucking ridiculous.

He grips himself and leans back into the sink edge, his head falling back.

He’s already wet.

He spreads out pre-cum with a shaking thumb and runs his hand down himself smoothly.

He tugs back up, and sighs.

Fionn steps into the shower, warm water falling on him, he bows his head and pumps himself hard. He puffs out frustrated sighs and moans, almost whimpers.

Veins sting in Fionn’s arm and neck, his eyes screw shut, and the water collecting in his fringe gushes down onto his cock.

Fionn steady’s himself with one hand fanned out against the shower wall and lifts his head back to breathe out, as if exhaling cigarette smoke.

His arm moving fast and steady, he works himself beneath the water.

One leg is bent slightly, and the water keeps washing over Fionn’s skin. Droplets fly over his thighs with the force that his hand flies up and down.

Low groans escape from Harry’s mouth, muffled through the wall, but still loud.

“Harry, God. YES!” Louis’ voice is audible even over the rush of the shower. “So good, baby, ah!”

Fuck. God.

“Ah! Ah!” Fionn pants, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth. “God!”

“Louis!!! Ahh! Fuckkk”

God, no.

“Fuck.” Fuck, Harry, why now?

Why is everyone in this hotel fucking at the same time!??

Why are the walls so thin?

Fionn sees her again, seeping into his vision, Alana with legs stretched out across the bed cover, her hand moving fast. Red light swimming around her.

Fuck, God.

Her fingers pressed together, and rotating fast, between her legs. Her lips apart.

Oh God.

He could see Alana’s breath moving inside her body. Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuckkk

Harry moans loudly in the next room.

Alana’s legs drop against the red silk, a breath heaving out of her throat, she trusts up into the air.

“Ah!”

Louis pounds hard into Harry and quivers inside him. One hand clutches Harry’s waist and pulls him further back onto his own dick. Louis’ other hand squeezes hot cum out of Harry’s dick. Louis presses his forehead against Harry’s shoulder and blows a hot breath onto his skin. Harry moans, hanging his head, kneeling over the bed.

Fionn thrusts forward desperately into his fist. Sighing loud. His Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows down his stunted breath. He pictures Alana, touching herself. He remembers Alana touching herself. She’s in this building right now, stretched out naked on a red satin bed. Fionn squeezes the end of his dick and shoots thick bouts of cum against the shower wall.

Some streams of cum run down over his thumb. He’s open mouthed and panting heavily. Fionn holds his hands into the stream of water and shuts his eyes. “Fuck.”

He leans his back heavily against the wet pink tiles, Fionn slicks all his hair back smoothly against his head, and breathes out an exhausted sigh. His cheeks are burning pink beneath his freckles, water trickles down his heaving chest. Fionn begins to rub shower gel into his hot skin, shaking his head and breathing out what could be deciphered as a small, pitiful laugh. “What the fuck, am I doing here?”

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

CHAPTER 2

Morning sun brushes over Fionn’s face and buries itself into the folds of his dark orange duvet cover. It’s early. Too early. Fionn grumbles something into his pillow about mornings and how wrong they are, before distorted memories from the night before absorb into his conscious.

Oh dear.

Everything about this place is weird. Nothing’s quite normal, there is a familiarity to everything, a softness, a niceness, but it’s all sort of clouded with something quite impure and unsettling. Appealing at first and then uncertain. Darker. That is the point of the film, he supposes, but still. He feels it.

Fionn decides to forget last night. Or at least try to. He’s here. He’s here to work, and then he can leave. Just keep your head down, get the job done, and stay focused. Don’t think of Alana. Don’t think of her waking up this morning, don’t think of her going to sleep last night. Don’t think of her saying your name. Don’t picture what you saw. Don’t think of Harry either. Don’t think of Harry and Louis. Don’t get sucked in by the allure of this weird, pink, watery environment, or Alana’s weird allure either. Just don’t speak to her.

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

Several hours later, or maybe several years, Fionn is watching Alana surface from the pool. Midway through the day he decided it would actually be very rude to stop speaking to her. Unprofessional, even. She steps back into her clothes as Fionn playfully throws a towel over her head and greets her with a cheery hello.

She won’t know a thing, Fionn tells himself, just be normal. Be nice.

“Hi Dolphin!” she smiles, wriggling her painted toes into the plush of the orange towel. She places herself right by his side and says “Sorry to keep making you swim.”

But he just questions “Dolphin?” with a confused smile.

Alana deadpans a very serious yes. “You’re part dolphin now aren’t ya?”

Oh God no. What’s happening?

This wasn’t meant to happen.

“Alana get out of here right now. Did you just call me Dolphin??”

Does Fionn drop his head back in laughter, look down in embarrassment, crease his eyes shut to try and contain any reaction? A mixture of all three? He isn’t too sure. He just knows what this means. She isn’t referencing this film. Not the significance of the water metaphor in this film. No. This means Alana really did watch all of his and Harry’s Dunkirk interviews. This means she knows what a dork he is. Oh no.

“It makes absolute sense Fionn.” She’s still there. She’s still talking to him. Oh Jesus. “You can swim. You’re intelligent, and friendly, and cute, and fun. You sort of had a pod of other swimmers, you used to work on a ferry, and you’re a total doll! Fionn… dolphin… Dolfionn, it fits. It’s brilliant!”

Fionn’s definitely laughing now. He mockingly rests his fist against his hip and adopts a silly old man voice. “I’m part dolphin now. Ohh, dolphin eyy!” He jokes. “Why do I say these things on camera? Honestly!”

Through many giggles and words of encouragement and praise from Alana about how much her and the whole world enjoyed every single interview, Fionn realises if he is going to be named Dolphin, surely Alana must meet the same fate. “You need a name” he informs her.

Fuck it. Fuck everything. This whole film is ridiculous, everything that’s going on here is absurd. Probably some sort of social experiment. Forget what you told yourself this morning, Fionn, you’re here. She’s here. Just do it. Life brought you to this surreal pink world for a reason. For her. Right now feels like a good a time as any to reintroduce The Plan… if he could call it that.

“How about deer?” He suggests, with a smug grin.

The pace with which Alana’s face turns to meet his, suggests that The Plan may actually work.

He’d better keep going then.

“Or sun? Or maybe sunny? …Or yellow?”

‘I can’t bear this. He’s adorable.’ Alana thinks she’s not breathing. ‘He’s ridiculous!’ Her lips feel dry from smiling, like they’re sticking to her teeth. Her stomach feels heavily pregnant with butterflies and nerves and certainty.

“Deer like in Richmond Park?” She whispers, in awe.

“Yes. Deer like in Richmond Park.”

He remembers.

Fionn looks her straight back in the eye and smiles softly. Alana’s breath faults.

He remembers last June after the BBQ at Harry’s. The two of them walking through summer mist, the smell of damp earth, the rain shining silver on the path, as the sun broke from the clouds. Both unintentionally wearing the same yellow raincoat. They’d only just met and their sunlight coloured coats drew them together. The wild deer were reaching up to eat berries from the trees, and the blackbirds sang their final songs of the day. They’d walked Fionn’s dog until dusk guided them home. They may have even agreed to describe it as ‘idyllic.’

“That’s too much of an honour, Fionn. Deer are too good for anyone.”

She’s right though. They are. They’re the best creatures on the planet. Her absolute favourite.

“I knew you’d say that, Alana. …But I’ll think of something.” Fionn lays his hand on her shoulder, traces his fingers over the antlers of the deer tattoo inked onto her skin, then slowly slides his palm round to gently cup her neck. “Just you wait and see.”

This time it’s Fionn who runs off, leaving both him and Alana alone with the same stupid smiles.

*------------------

The moon beams a pool of light into Harry’s hotel room.

Alana’s been with him for a little while since they finished filming in there. They’re lounging on his bed listening to Meet Me In The Hallway crackle on his baby pink vinyl player. Alana basically asked Harry to be involved in the film solely because he wrote that song. He’s been her best friend since they were children, when their families met on holiday in the Lake District. Harry’s a calming influence on her, and he fits the aesthetic of this film effortlessly, but that song, his whole album in fact, and all the photoshoots that came with it, inspired Alana as much as any painting or movie.

Alana is in some way attempting to create her own visual interpretation of Meet Me In The Hallway. The mistiness. The dreaminess; it’s both haunting and comforting. It sounds sort of like a memory. Neither completely sad nor completely happy, but there is emotion there, and it’s real. Even if you don’t know what it means, the honesty is pure. There is a history to it, and a presence. It’s sort of an in-between state, that for whatever reason, you’ve chosen to remain in. There is a neediness to it, but a neediness for something which has only just passed, and will probably come back. And this is basically how Alana wants hers and Polly’s film. …You can listen to that song in the bath, or in bed, she thinks. Or driving to the beach. Indoors by the fire, rain hitting against the window. Day or night. At home or on holiday. It has the right balance between being obvious and being vague, and it’s just nice. It’s lovely.

“I wish it lasted three hours, H” Alana ponders out loud, proudly finishing the last coat of clear glitter on Harry’s dark grey nails.

“What?” He replies. “Sex?”

Alana scowls at him and cuddles a fluffy pink cushion to her chest. “Noooo, you little scamp! I meant your beautiful song!” She exclaims and prods him in the dimple. “You’re too cute, Harry-bo.” She tells him, and it’s true. He could get away with anything. He usually does.

“Heeeeyy! I think you’re cute, Lala!” He grins. “Honestly though, you’re doing very well with this film and I’m proud of you.” He begins plaiting a small section of her hair, where she dip-dyed it yellow. “Whether you believe me or not, I think you’re pretty you know, for a lady.” They giggle together but she scrunches her face at him, dismissing the compliment. “You’re kind of like Perrie if she were ginger and in Warpaint instead of Little Mix.”

A wide grin lights Alana’s face. “Woah, that’s the absolute dream!!” She imagines. “Are you being extra nice, pet, because you want me to plait your hair too?”

Harry swings his legs clumsily off the bed and begins to put on his gold boots. “Nope. I’m being as nice as I always am, but I do need to meet Polly now for some late filming.” He explains this whilst dressing himself in a leather jacket and applying a touch of dark burgundy lipstick. “However…” he flutters his eyelashes flirtatiously “…I’m not the only boy in this corridor who thinks you’re pretty and cute.”

And with that outrageous remark, Harry skips away gleefully into the night, leaving Alana to whimper to herself in a mixture of joy and despair. Having a proper crush on someone is a horrendous ordeal. She decides this is a fact, as she tidies up hers and Harry’s nail polish and straightens the pink bed spread. She wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Her day today was an early one, she and some of the other girls drove along to record the sun rise over a lavender field, and they were mainly shooting offsite there, or during the journey. It was when Rea and Vissy lay together in the meadow that she realised perhaps she was trying to make every fantasy that Tim Walker’s photographs induced in her as a young girl come true. Either that or her genuine desire as an artist was to make an hour long glorified perfume advert.

Alana throws some pink and black cushions to the floor and sits herself down. Leaning her back against the far wall of Harry’s room, she reflects on her romantic predicament. Maybe it’s not even a predicament. Maybe it is actually hell. Or maybe she’s just overdramatic and everything is actually falling into place.

Alana never wants to be defined by another person. She doesn’t want to obsess over someone, the way that she has been. Certainly not this much, or for this long.

She has a lot to be grateful for in life, and a lot of things which bring her happiness. Alana doesn’t need a relationship, she just quite wants one. Someone to say goodnight to, to make a packed lunch for, to push the cuticles down on her nails, to clean her teeth with, to draw circles into their skin after sex, to know the mole on the right hand side of her back, to leave notes for.

She wants Fionn.

A part of her wishes she didn’t, but she really really does.

Alana’s ex broke her heart. It was complex but for years she thought she was safe with him, until he didn’t love her anymore. So she went home, she drew, she wrote, she danced, she let her friends and her mum look after her, and she walked as far into the ocean as she needed to rid herself of him. She turned her pain into art, and she got over it.

Alana made a promise after that, to live for herself until the time she met someone she didn’t need to question. She doesn’t know if that time is now or not, but she does know that when she thinks of that promise, she only thinks of Fionn.

All she ever really does is think of Fionn.

Always.

A noise through the wall wakes Alana to the realisation that Harry’s record has long stopped playing, and that she ought to descent to her own room to sleep. She’s packing the record into its sleeve and hears the muffled noise continue. These walls are so thin. They’re nicely painted, but so thin. Leaning down nearer the wall to clear the cushions, Alana hears a soft sort of grunt or moan.

With her ear pressed against the wall, the thought of sleep is in disregard. She hears it again, a deep, breathy sigh, and any thought of leaving this wall is now in complete disregard.

It’s unmistakeable.

Completely, universally, categorically, unmistakeable.

The sound of sex.

Haha! Wonderful. Alana does know she ought to leave though, these are her co-workers and friends, after all. Throwing the cushions back onto the bed, she lets herself wonder who it might be. If this is Harry’s room, then… no!

Fuck.

No!!

Absolutely no way.

She listens harder and yes, that is a man moaning… and yes, it sounds like he’s alone. But… that doesn’t mean it’s… but… Harry’s room is the end one, so… there isn’t really anyone else it could be… other than Fionn.

Oh my God.

I have to leave.

This is unprofessional, Alana. This is disrespectful. I have to…

Oh, fuck.

God, he’s really… right now. Right there!

He can’t be… but he is. Oh God.

Fuck, he’s swearing. That’s Fionn!

That’s Fionn pressed against the other side of this wall…

Right now!

Fuck, Alana. Don’t make a noise. Stop. Leave now and don’t you dare think about listening for a moment longer.

Do not touch yourself. Don’t do it.

She means to walk away but the sigh already leaves her mouth.

Alana asking herself why she’s making noises doesn’t make her any quieter, and it doesn’t make her leave any faster.

Stop it. Don’t.

Why is it so hot in here?

Why can I hear him? Like this? Right now?

Why is the wet nestling into my thigh?

She feels so much.

It’s too much.

Why does the movement behind the wall sound like its right behind her?

Fionn hits his fist against the wall.

Fuck.

No.

Alana moans. She doesn’t mean too. Fionn doesn’t mean too. It’s just so hot in there, and all the lightbulbs are red, and everything feels wet, and the air is thick, and the walls are pink and they’re so, so thin, and there’s only three more days left there on set, and Fionn groans louder just to be sure that he’s wrong.

Of course he’s wrong.

There is no girl on the other side of the wall.

He just wants there to be.

But there isn’t.

Alana’s hands don’t mean to travel up her thigh and lift her dress.

Alana’s voice doesn’t mean to call out when she holds herself against the wall and grinds into her hand.

She doesn’t mean to at all.

She wants to leave, but, well… no, she wants to stay.

What she wants is to tear down this wall that she’s pressed against, but she can’t do that.

All she can seem to do is reach her hand beneath her underwear, and feel the wet wrap round her skin, and drag her fingers up hard, and breathe out a loud sigh.

Fuck.

It can’t be.

Absolutely not.

Fionn slams his hand against the wall, and grips himself tighter and bites down hard on his lip.

How is she there?

If it even is her?

What the fuck is wrong with this building?

Why are the walls so thin?

Why does everyone fuck at the same time?

How the hell is this happening? Again??

How do two people find themselves fucking against each other in a weird pink and orange hotel with an entire wall of old bricks and missed opportunities and unspoken words between them?

Jesus Christ.

Fionn doesn’t press his mouth against the wall and breathe out Alana’s name deeply through his lips.

He surely did not just do that.

No.

He couldn’t have.

…But if he hadn’t… why would the girl behind the wall gasp like that?

Why would she moan so loudly in response?

What she actually means is to leave right now but instead Alana flings her body around desperately, her forehead meeting the wall, she moves her finger tips in tiny circles, pounding them hard into her clit.

There can be no going back now, it’s already gone this far.

Fionn has nothing to lose. Or maybe he has everything to lose. Or maybe he doesn’t care.

Not right now.

He thrusts so hard into his hand, his dick is inches away from grinding against the wall that his hand holds him against.

“Ah! Alanaa… fuck!”

Fuck.

He said her name.

He just said her fucking name!

God.

“Ah! A...lana …mmm yess!”

Fionn has literally just fucked himself against a wall, loudly moaning Alana’s name.

She grasps her hand against the other side of the same wall, to pull at nothing, her body flinches and jumps, she gasps for air and groans out.

There’s no point in being quiet now.

She means to say ‘fuck’ but it sort of sounds like ‘Fionn’.

“Yes! Alana. Fuck.”

He speaks to her from the other side. This is it.

“Fionn! Fionn! Ah, fucking God!!”

This cannot be happening.

They’re fucking each other and they can’t even see it or feel it.

Alana’s so close. Her fingers are slipping, she’s so wet. She throbs and pants, breathless and so close.

“Alana”

Fionn’s voice speaks to her through the wall. It sounds calm, deep. Firm, and definite.

Almost dominant.

“Cum for me.”

“Please.”

Alana breathes in sharply with a sudden moan. “Fuck!! Fuuuuck!”

Her head slowly stretches back to hang, facing the ceiling, as she feels the breath escaping her lungs, leaving her mouth in a soft sigh of his name. She cums with two fingers pressed hard against her clit, her hips thrusting forward in short, intense jolts. Her moan squeaks and she sighs heavily, breathing out a clear “Fiiiionn”

The two of them stand in the same position, their foreheads resting against the same spot on separate sides of the same wall.

They breathe in and out deeply as their heart rates regulate.

Fionn and Alana shakily tug their underwear back on and briefly let their eyes close.

After a little while of quiet, Alana asks “Should I say sorry?”

She doesn’t know neighbour sex etiquette, but surely that’s the polite thing to say when you masturbate against a wall with someone uninvited.

“No” Fionn laughs. “You really don’t need to say sorry. Not at all”

Phew.

“Do I need to say sorry?” He asks, suddenly sounding concerned. He rests his palm out against his side of the wall.

“No, Fionn. Never.” Alana sits back on the floor, and rests her head back. “Not for anything.”

She hears another mumbled laugh. “Good, because that was fun!”

Oh, man!

Alana chuckles to herself and calls back. “You’re amazing Fionn, really.”

“Wait until there isn’t a wall between us!” He knocks on it twice, leans back against it and laughs.

Oh my God.

“See you tomorrow, darling.” Alana says, standing up and neatening her dress. “I’d better go because this probably isn’t really ok.” She laughs sort of nervously and sweeps her fringe out of her eyes.

“Bye, deer.” Fionn smiles and pulls his t-shirt back on. “Goodnight, Alana”

“Goodnight” She says, and kisses her side of the wall. “Sweet dreams, Dolfionn.”

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

CHAPTER 3

Most of the visual content had been shot, there weren’t too many days left at all now. Harry and everyone else had basically done their bit. Everyone stayed from start to finish though, to boost morale and maintain the team effort, and because they were all still enjoying themselves. A lot of the bodies on set were simply required as extras now, there to be seen dancing and drifting through the background, in some sort of flamboyant garment.  

The only major part left was the pool scene with Fionn and Alana, well… with Toby and Isla, technically. The only clear thought in the film. Maybe the only clear thought in Fionn’s mind. …If he forgets about another night of questionable masturbation preferences, that is.

But he’s got to do it now. He has to. Time feels like it’s running out, but it also feels like it’s on his side, running towards him. Towards them. Fionn needs to see this through, somehow. Even if he’s cheating a little and doing it through his character, Toby, Fionn is finally going to do this. …The Plan.

Polly’s voice is calmly reassuring her friends to remember that they know what they’re doing and that she believes in them. “Anything that feels natural, yeah? Whatever you both do or say, it won’t be wrong.”

Would you say that about last night, Pol? Alana tells her brain to shut up. Get your head in the game, girl! This isn’t the time to make up rude jokes in your head.

Polly shuffles back, mostly out of view, and the camera men and women are situated comfortably far back. “We have all evening, guys, so take your time.” Everything feels as organic as a pink swimming pool surrounded by rhododendron bushes and orange beanbags can feel. …and if you ignore the night before.

Fionn lies across his chest with his face held in his hands and peers up at Alana through his clear framed glasses. He’s wearing a striped shirt beneath an old denim jacket and repeatedly telling himself not to blush. He draws a breath and feels a deep sickness in the pit of his stomach. But he’s a professional actor. He can do this. Well… he used to be professional.

Here it goes. The Scene, The Plan, whatever you want to call it.

“I think.”

Oh, he started too sure.

“…I don’t think.”

Alana sighs a soft laugh. “Good start, Toby”

“Stop it, Isla”

Toby sits up right, removes his glasses and crosses his legs. Isla watches him fondly.

Oh my gosh, she thinks to herself. Something’s definitely happening. Don’t think about last night. Because something is about to happen.

She chances a glance, both Isla and Alana.

Fuck. ..His jaw line.

Another glance. Oh God. Regulate your breathing, remember.

Her eyes travel from the low set of Fionn’s eyebrows, to the verdant green of his iris. Across the freckles on his cheeks, down the sharp line of his nose. The bump of his top lip, the mole on his chin. The prominence of his Adam’s apple, the ring pierced in his ear. There’s something about the angles of his face Alana feels she’ll never tire of admiring.

“I don’t think…”

Oh, shit. Listen.

He isn’t speaking through a wall anymore.

Listen to him, Isla. Listen to Toby.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody that I’ve been so intrigued by.”

Isla takes a breath, feels aware of every vein and pore in her body, keeps her mouth closed, and tells herself to listen.

“You’re sweet. And lovely, and really cool, and nice. And friendly. But. There’s more, like… to you, than that.”

Keep it together Fionn, you can do this. You’re only acting.

So why does this feel so important?

It’s not just the cameras, he can’t look at her. This is scarier than he thought, for both him and his character. Look at the pool, that’s a good idea.

“I mean, you’re… kind of like water. But… but, not. But maybe you are. I mean…”

Just go for it, Fi. He hears Harry’s voice in his head, encouraging him.

“You were born by the sea, Isla. You always say you like the ocean…”

He should not have said that. That’s too real. That’s Fionn and not Toby. That’s Alana and not Isla. It’s too far from the script. But there is no script. Oh Jesus, he’s going to be fired. He’ll never act again.

“I do.”

She whispers.

Alana. No… Isla.

“I do like the ocean.”

Toby looks at her, and there are lights reflecting in her eyes.

“I like dolphins.”

She did not just do that.

Fionn allows himself to laugh, surely Toby would laugh at that.

But he has more to say. Both Toby and Fionn. She deserves more …Isla and Alana.

“I think you’re great, Isla. I don’t really know what to say because you make me nervous. But in a nice way. But you make me comfortable, and happy too. And funny, maybe?”

“You’re really really funny.” She says.

Oh boy, there she is.

Keep going Toby.

“��And you’re encouraging, and kind. And your voice is like nothing I’ve heard, and you look…amazing. Just lovely. And you work hard, your mind… the way your mind works, and the ideas that are born inside it, astound me. And your eyes are so big and they’re like, green. But no…brown. Orange? Hazel. Yeah, hazel. A deep, enchanting hazel, and… and I’m saying this because. Erm, because… I should have said it sooner.”

Here we go.

“I should have said it last year when we walked in the park after it stopped raining, or when we made that salad together at Alex’s house.”

She’ll know exactly who he means.

“…Or at that gig, or when I saw you buying all those vegetables that time, or when you bumped into me at that café with my family, or maybe I should have just turned up at your door and declared it, or…”

Maybe Toby’s getting carried away, but its Art. Maybe this is what feels organic to him. Maybe this is what Isla wants to hear, maybe it is professional to use a live film set to confess your actual feelings for your co-star, and maybe, maybe he can’t stop… “Or maybe I should have written you a letter, or even sang you a song, or maybe even pressed orange roses through your letter box, but…

Fionn finally looks at her so that Toby isn’t declaring this to his hands and she’s… she’s not… crying? No. She’s smiling, but… well, kind of crying, and, both. Yes. She’s sort of smile crying into her hand, but it’s quite cute. Everything she does is cute.

“…I was scared.”

“For some weird reason I just felt scared, maybe that I would let you down, Isla, or simply that I liked you too much, or maybe not enough. Or that the timing was wrong, and we’d be too busy, but…I just always wanted more. And you were always there. Even when I didn’t think you would be. But I didn’t want to come to expect you, but you always seemed so happy to see me. You were so friendly and you kept saying nice things to me, and touching my arm. But, I know you do that to everyone...”

Keep going Fionn, it’s for the film. You’re a great actor.

“My dog likes you. And my sisters like you, and… and Alex said that you like me.”

There’s no way back now, just carry on.

“And… well, yeah. That was nice to hear. Everything said about you is nice to hear. Your voice, especially, is nice to hear. I just… I suppose that if there were ever a choice for you to be somewhere or to not be somewhere, and I suppose by ‘somewhere’ I mean with me, by my side, I’d much rather that you were. There. …By my side, I mean. Than not there.”

Fionn takes what feels like his first breath in several hours and what might actually be his first breath in several hours.

“I guess that’s the best I’ve got. For now, anyway.” He says. “But maybe I can work on it.” He’s not speaking to the crew, but still to Alana. Well, no. It’s Toby speaking to Isla.

He realises all the extras have gone inside, and the moon has replaced the sun, and the butterflies are sleeping and Alana, well… Isla, is wearing a loose red cardigan he never saw her put on. And she’s sitting right in front of him though he never noticed her move forward.

Somehow Alana is holding Fionn’s hand in hers, although he never felt her take it. He realises the cameras are still rolling, of course they are. And the set lights are still shining on the tears in Alana’s eyes and he wonders where she learnt to be such a good actress that she could just cry like that.

And then he hears her soft, angelic voice though he never saw her open her mouth, and he realises she’s talking to him.

“Of course I like you, Toby.” Isla breathes out. “I always have.”

She’s such a good actress.

Listen to her.

“You’re intelligent and creative. And you’re respectful about everything. The way you talk, about things, it’s so… earnest, and important. And I could listen to you, for ages. You speaking… you’re voice…I dunno. You’re just compassionate, and so endearing. And you’re so cool! God, you have no idea, but that just makes it better! You’re so humble and wonderful and your singing voice, Jesus Christ!! You’re sort of unbelievable. You’re sort of everything, but mostly, you’re just so nice, and you work hard. And you care about your family, and you’re really funny!”

Alana’s sort of exasperated, as if she’s only realising all of Fionn’s amazing qualities right now but she isn’t, she’s known the whole time she’s known him. She has to keep going though. Isla does.

“You make me care about things more. I learn things through you, you’re just great… I don’t, know… you’re really peaceful. It sounds silly but knowing that you exist, in my life, somehow, is just… really soothing, and reassuring. You’re a bit weird, you’ve got your quirks and everything, but so do I, and… I guess it doesn’t really matter.” She says. “I mean look at you! You’re lovely. So, so lovely. You’re just… real. There’s this grace and composure about you that I’ve never witnessed in anyone else.”

God, she’s good.

Fionn thinks he might see one of the camerawomen moving position and the sound technician move the mic, but all he’s looking at are Alana’s eyes on him, open wide and shining, staring into his.

Maybe the plan is working?

“Toby, I suppose I don’t really know all that much about you, but I don’t know if I need to, because I know enough to know that I feel something.”

Neither Toby nor Fionn know if the feel of lips blowing air against skin is the breeze or the feeling of two sets of knuckles folded together.

“I kept waiting for it to fizzle out, but it never did. I could never just appreciate you in moderation …I wanted more, too.” She speaks. And yes, maybe this is finally happening. And it doesn’t matter with whose voice she speaks, Isla’s or her own. “There were times I was unsure if I wanted you in reality, or if it were safer to enjoy the idea of you, but there was just something...” Alana moves their hands to rest in her lap, her heart crashing in her throat, and she speaks firmly, hopefully in Isla’s voice. “There is just something about you I never felt ready or able to leave behind. And I still don’t want to. I’ve always wanted you, and I still do.”

Fionn thinks he can hear plants rustling beneath a soft wind but he doesn’t know because neither he nor Toby would be listening to that. It’s not important. This is happening. He feels sick, in the most beautiful way.

“For a while, admittedly, I tried to pretend you were only a concept.” Isla pauses, her eyes switch between focusing on Toby’s and studying the stitching on his sleeve.

Just keep going, Alana. It’s for the film.

“I wish I could say I was an actress.” Isla’s free hand climbs Toby’s forearm and rests at his elbow. “…That there was a reason for all this.”

Oh Jesus. It’s for the Film, ok?

Fionn lifts his eyes from looking at Alana’s hand nestled in his, and meets her eyes. “You just had this grip on me.” Isla says, but it is Alana’s eyes that are still glossy. “…And whether either of us intended it to or not, your presence just somehow seeped into everything, and thoughts of you consumed me, but not even in a bad way! Just in a constant and certain way, and I… I made art about you.”

It’s too late now, she thinks. She’s said it.

“Everything I’ve done has sort of stemmed from initially thinking about you. All of this, in a weird and kind of unintentional way, it’s sort of all for you.”

Toby scans from Isla across to the plants which frame her; lavender, foxglove, fuscia. His eyes travel into the still water, decorated with petals and confetti and sequins, through all the other orange and lilac and yellow flowers in the far corner, up into the deep red and golden sunset which seeps into the sea, and then back to her. Gems glisten in her ears, glitter lines her eye lids. A peacock butterfly is tattooed onto her shoulder, and a pale pink flower is woven into her hair. She smiles the sweetest smile and her eyes are full of honesty. “You’re a bee.” He says.

They laugh …finally.

Fionn, Toby, Alana, Isla. It doesn’t matter. Their hands separate and they move to align their bodies side by side, legs stretched in front of them. “You wear yellow, you’re rare, and you like flowers. Everything surrounding you is pretty. You like the outdoors. You sort of fly around everywhere, pollinating everything, I’m not sure what with… but wherever you go, you leave a trace of something hopeful. What you give out is sort of necessary and appreciated. Your words, or art, or smile. I don’t know. But, it’s always nice to see you.” He says. “You’re a bee. …That can be your name. That’s what I’ll call you.”

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

CHAPTER 4

Morning sun rises slowly in a pale sky and shines weakly through the open window.

The eyes watching Alana are interrogative, in a caring way. Unflinching, deep with questions, but safe. Familiar. A silvery grey blue, with lashes painted black fluttering above them.

“Mornin’ Poll! How’re you feeling?” She asks her friend, it’s a genuine question but she anticipates it won’t be answered.

“Yesterday, Al.” Polly’s eyes widen. “Yesterday.”

“Yesterday was Tuesday.” Alana smiles around a spoonful of fruit salad, investigates a kiwi in her bowl with more interest than needed, and she absolutely doesn’t blush. Not at all. It might be sunburn.

“Alana, please!” Polly reaches across the pink breakfast table and holds onto Alana’s arm.

“I thought I was meant to be the actress round here!” But she can’t keep this up, Alana quickly retreats into shy grumbles and unsure whimpers and adolescent giggles and she cradles her knees to her chest. “Yesterday was amazing, if not maybe a little odd, I suppose? Quite intense. Very, very beautiful, but intense.” She admits, half smiling, half nervously puckering her lips.

“It was amazing, Alana! I could barely watch, I felt like I wasn’t allowed to be there …I couldn’t breathe. I think Isaac the lighting guy was crying! We were all sweating afterwards, just looking at each other in silence. No one knew what to say.” Polly’s a little manic, it was obvious that she’d been holding this in all night. “Acting rarely creates that kind of atmosphere, Alana, I know Fionn’s amazing at his job, obviously, but there was tension. That was super intense!” She decides. “What you both said was personal and obviously, undoubtedly, completely real.”

Alana can only respond with a quiet ‘hmm.’ It’s all out there now, she guesses. Everything. Exposed, honest, said. Everything’s finally been said. Everything she thought and dreamt and wrote and hoped for all year has finally been said…Unless by some miracle all of the shots are unusable and they have to burn everything and no one will ever know a thing. Or maybe the sound is somehow so poor that they have to just make up some random subtitles, or add loads of effects, or maybe even play the speech backwards like in Twin Peaks. Maybe that would be better? Maybe she should suggest it?

“Alana, please.” Polly brings her back to earth. “Please don’t you dare get nervous and avoid him now. Things between you and him do not end with that scene, you know that, right?”

She’s right. God, of course she is. Alana reaches out to hold her friend’s hand and listen to her.

“Lana, you haven’t come this far to freak out about it now. You don’t actually have anything to be scared of anymore. It is quite clear that he feels the same. He is absolutely lovely and believe it or not, you are a catch.”

Alana laughs weakly and brings hers and Polly’s hands up to her mouth to press her lips nervously and tenderly into Polly’s fingers.

“Go and see him, petal. You’ve both done more than enough for this film and all of us can start packing stuff up.” Polly tells her. “Everything you have waited for is happening now. Go and see him. Today.”

Alana squeezes her friend’s hand and smiles at her. “Thank you, Pea. Thank you so much, for pulling me together!” She says. “I love you.” Alana stands to clear her dishes with a slightly wobbly hand, but a big smile on her face. “I’ll do it.”

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

There is a backless pink bench situated in a secluded corner of a small garden behind the pool. Bull rushes, flag irises and orange water flowers stand tall in a small turquoise pond dressed with layers of lily pads. A willow tree hangs its branches over the grass, the fine green leaves reflect in shards of mirror mosaicked into the pink wall at the back. White butterflies with orange tipped wings and painted-lady butterflies jitter around pink and yellow flower heads.

Fionn is sitting on the bench, cradling a bright pink mug and blowing lightly over the surface to cool down his morning coffee. A navy blue tee-shirt stretches over his chest, soft strands of brown hair curl messily over his forehead. Sunlight paints patches of white light over his face, and tangles into the hair on his legs. Despite not being a morning person, Fionn feels peaceful as he watches little bubbles travel up to the surface of the pond water, he sees them pop with a content smile on his face.

He feels a hand slowly stroke his back then tenderly smooth down his hair from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck.

Alana slides her hand down Fionn’s arm as she sits herself on the bench to face him. She folds her leg to rest her knee on Fionn’s thigh and she says a happy, shy good morning. Fionn places his hand gently on her leg and laughs out an equally shy greeting.

Fionn and Alana are both slow and quiet. As if they woke too early. They are not sleepy but the day is unfamiliarly new, it feels like the morning has paused so it can stretch out for longer than normal. The sun is awaiting their instruction before it rises higher in the sky.

Alana rests her head against Fionn’s shoulder and laughs out “I don’t know what to say!” She feels his two fingers and thumb slide to cup her chin and trace the edge of her jaw. Fionn sweeps his fingers up Alana’s face to push her hair behind her ear, so slowly and softly that his knuckles tickle her skin. She takes his hand in hers, looks at him and smiles. “Maybe we’ve already said everything.”

Fionn turns so each of his legs are on either side of the bench with Alana sat cross legged between them. Their hands hold each other’s thighs. He smiles softly. “Yeah, maybe we have said it all now.”

“Thank you for everything you said.” Alana speaks, earnestly. They sigh quietly through little smiles and slow blinks as they realise that they’ve finally sorted everything out. “Thank you, too.” Fionn says. Alana reaches her arms around Fionn’s neck to hug him and he holds her with his arms wrapped round her back.

Their faces nestle into each other’s necks, cheeks squished into tight smiles. Close, skin pressed inside folds and corners of skin. The morning, their skin pressed together in the morning. No walls between them. No water between them. No windows between them. No unspoken words between them. No cities between them. They’ve done it. They are here. Together.

Their hug loosens a little and they rest their cheeks together with their eyes closed. They stay like that for a while, or what feels like a while, or what feels like no time at all. Eyelids shut softly and they breathe in and out slowly, they rub their cheeks together ever so slightly, almost like deer. The tips of Fionn and Alana’s noses and lips brush over each other’s skin in the hazy yellow morning light. Fionn gently ghosts faint kisses along Alana’s jaw and onto her chin. They are gentle and slow. No rush. Just waking up. Alana leaves a trail of small kisses along Fionn’s neck and onto his face and up to his forehead.

Fionn kisses the end of Alana’s nose. “So we’re good?” She asks him with a smirk and locks her hands around the back of his neck. “We’re, like… friends…and stuff?” She laughs.

“Alana.” Fionn says her name seriously with a raised eyebrow. “Come on!” He smooths his palms over the back of her head and cups her face in his hands.

“Okay” She smiles. “More than friends, please?”

“That’s better.” Fionn nods. “More than friends.”

They’re still smiling even when they try not to. It’s in their eyes and their whole faces, their whole bodies. It could be embarrassing but they don’t care. It’s only the two of them anyway, and they’ve waited long enough. A year and a bit isn’t that long, really, but it felt like it.

“Are we…” Alana leans closer to Fionn to speak in his ear “…Together?” She asks him in a giggle, with a small knot in her stomach, and she takes his ear lobe into her mouth to suck in a little kiss. Fionn whispers into her ear, his lips touch her skin with every word. “I think… that we are together, Alana.” He kisses her cheek. “Yes.”

“Good!” She sighs. “That’s wonderful to hear.” She turns to smile against the corner of his lips. “Phew!”

“I’m so sorry it took me so long to tell you how I felt.” Fionn admits, linking their fingers together. And Alana replies, smoothing her hand over his. “Don’t be. You’re worth the wait, and I’m really sorry it took me such weird and dramatic methods to tell you how I felt.”

They laugh and Alana wraps her legs around Fionn’s waist, he holds his arms around the bottom of her back. They rest their foreheads together. They are comfortable and happy, but nerves still tickle them and shoot up inside their stomachs, like an itch. It’s comfortable but new at the same time. They are so close now, hugging and resting their heads together, but they itch, they both know it, silently. Slowly, with twitches in their bellies, Fionn and Alana lift their heads up, their chins meet gently, they tilt their heads slightly, slowly. They close their eyes, and they slowly press their lips together in a soft, gentle peck. They smile slightly then open their lips to slide between each other’s in another kiss. Their lips open and meet again, and again. Fionn and Alana share a slow, long kiss. She rubs her hand over Fionn’s hair where she lightly holds the back of his neck. He gently lays his hand on her jaw. Alana can feel the shape of Fionn’s top lip between hers. Their lips are warm together. Soft, and they move slowly. Continuously. Soft, wet and gentle. The very faint flavours of coffee and toothpaste mix and taste much better than they should. Sort of comforting. Sort of sweet, sort of funny. Nice. Their lips are close, always. Never leaving, never stopping. Keeping kissing. Sliding. Long, slow, deep, wet, soft kisses. Sentences of long kisses, punctuated with little kisses. A paragraph for a kiss. Their lips are pink and kissing makes them more pink. They kiss in the garden. They sit on the pink bench, in the little garden with the pink walls, by the turquoise pond with the pink lotus flowers, and they kiss. They finally kiss because they finally can.

They kiss every word they never said into each other’s lips. They kiss every word they did say to each other, by the pool at sunset last night. They kiss for every look they shared across every room they’ve been in. They kiss for every inch of distance they ever had between them. They kiss for every time they could have kissed sooner. They kiss for every person who told them to kiss sooner. They kiss for them kissing now. They kiss for them kissing again. They kiss for them finally getting it right. They kiss for the first time because it’s not the last time. They kiss till the sun rises higher in the sky and tells them the day has begun.

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

CHAPTER 5

(Bonus chapter with plot twist)

 September 2019

Fionn is at home, his dog Lewis curling up to his side, and Alana cuddling the other. Their limbs, dressed in comfy jeans and woollen autumn jumpers, tangle lazily on the sofa. Fionn looks up from reading and meets Alana with a wide and fond, if not slightly bemused, and maybe even teary-eyed smile. He places what he’s just read onto the table; a short story self-printed and hand bound in baby pink card, titled ‘Pink Dolphin’.

He chuckles and leans in to give Alana a lingering kiss. “Bless you” he tells her. “This is crazy, this story. It’s amazing! I can’t believe you did that, it’s so funny!” Fionn shakes his head with an amused smile. “Yeah, it’s maybe a tiny tiny bit strange, and it’s pretty hot!” He says. “But honestly… that’s maybe the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Fionn smiles even wider and lays his hand across his heart. “Parts of that really, really got to me. That was so, so nice!”

Alana reaches out to take Fionn’s hand in hers and breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief. “Phewww, thank God!” She looks at him with wide, innocent eyes and a smile, as if she didn’t just share her dirty fanfiction with him. Fionn chuckles and pinches Alana’s nose. He runs his thumb over her cheek to show he’s just teasing. The pair of them nervously giggle. Even after almost 3 years together, they’re still as awkward with each other as they are comfortable.

Alana tucks her legs under Fionn’s and holds Lewis’ paw. “I never even planned for you to read it, you know! I was so embarrassed, I’m so sorry!” She laughs at herself, and at Fionn laughing at her. “I know I’m a bit of an idiot, I just really love you and you’re very inspiring!” Alana snorts a laugh at the facial expressions Fionn is pulling at her. “It’s all completely Harry and Louis’ fault anyway! They made me write it by planting the idea in my head! They’re out of control.”

“I’ll tell you one thing.” Fionn replies, wrapping one of Alana’s legs up in his arms and resting his face against her knee. “Fionn is right.” He points to the pink laminated document on the table and picks it up. “You are ridiculous!” He laughs, swatting at her with her own story. “All of you are absolutely, beautifully, stupidly, impossibly, ridiculously, ridiculous! I have no idea why I spend time with any of you.”

Alana stretches away from him, laughing. “I’m ridiculously in love with you!” She sings. “We all are, does that help!??”

“It only helps a tiny bit, you lunatic!” Fionn laughs, pulling his girlfriend back into his arms. “When Harry said he’d dared you to write fanfiction about us aaaaages ago, I certainly never expected you to have taken it this far, or gone to that much effort! It’s craaazy but it’s honestly brilliant though, and I’m very flattered …but don’t tell Harry that.”

“Ah thank God, though, honestly!” Alana sighs again, kissing Fionn’s knuckles. “I was so worried you’d be absolutely disgusted, and outraged, and confused, and just want to leave me immediately, and then be angry at Harry too!” She gushes, far too dramatically. “You know… Louis even tried to get me to post it online!! Can you believe him!?” She admits, her eyes wild with excitement and confession.

“I just wrote it cos it helped me to, like, deal with you.” She explains, a little more peacefully. “I didn’t wanna get obsessed or anything, or invest too much in our relationship too soon. I just wanted to be calm, and to enjoy fancying you, and happily take things slow, so transferring some emotion into this helped.” She admits. “I wrote it before we were properly together, and I know it sounds odd, and I know I’m really dramatic… but it just made sense to me, and it was fun! I tried to keep all this hidden for all these years, and I pretended that I never actually wrote any, just on the off chance you got mad at me or were, like, really disturbed.”

Fionn laughs loudly at how stressed Alana’s getting. She is so silly. He is actually really enjoying this. Seeing her freak out and feel awkward is pretty funny. It’s adorable, actually. “I’m not angry with you!” He has to save her at some point. “I’m actually really glad that you took Harry’s dare, or advice?, so seriously, and wrote such an amazing story and managed to hang onto it all this time!” Fionn moves to rest his chin on top of Alana’s head. “And it clearly worked, cos we’re all good.”

“You made us into art, Alana, and that is really sweet and a real privilege. You know I’d never judge you for doing something which helps or inspires you.” He says. “You knew that at some point I’d eventually reveal you to the world as the arty mad woman that I was somehow in love with, and I suppose if we do decide to share this beautiful, funny, wonderful, weird, sexy, and ridiculous story that you’ve created, then maybe that would be as good a way as any for us to ‘come out’.” He jokes with her and kisses her on the temple.

Alana giggles and combs her fingers through Fionn’s hair. “Yeah. We’re really private, Dolfionn, and we hope to ‘come out’ in a quiet and simple way…let’s definitely reveal this epic, dramatic, arty, cinematic, fantasy filth about us!” She plays along. “Sure! Maybe we should... Maybe it’s a brilliant idea! Maybe it would be funny?” She lays her head in Fionn’s lap and tickles Lewis under his ears.

Fionn rests his hand over Alana’s tummy. “Yeah, I definitely think so. Louis’ onto something... It would be silly and endearing, like us! But no… seriously, if we just stay calm, don’t make much fuss, and continue living our lives quietly like we always do…” He starts, “And I’ll keep mainly just talking about acting in any interviews, then everything will definitely be fine when people do know.” Alana has to agree with him. She meant it when she said Fionn was inspiring.

“I’m happy for people to know about us now, but we can definitely still be private.” He reassures them both. “We’re not giving Harry and Louis the satisfaction of sharing that story anyway!” Fionn laughs and slides his hand beneath Alana’s jumper, to slowly run his fingers over her warm skin. “What I’m most concerned with now, however…” He leans closer. “…is fucking you through a wall.” He teases but reaches further up under Alana’s top, and licks a stripe up her neck. “You wrote some incredibly sexy things and I was very impressed.”

Alana laughs and tugs at Fionn’s hair. She sits up to straddle him and leave wet, introductory kisses up Fionn’s neck. “So, just to completely clarify first, you’re absolutely sure that you’re definitely not annoyed or embarrassed that I wrote that??” She double checks, stroking the soft hair on Fionn’s arms beneath his jumper sleeves.

“You’re pretty difficult to be angry with, bee.” Fionn smiles and holds Alana’s hips beneath her jumper. “I’m maybe the tiniest bit surprised? If not just at how detailed it is, even though I really shouldn’t be because this is actually typical you… and its typical Harry and Louis! But honestly, love, no.” He answers. “I’m not annoyed with you at all. I absolutely love it, and I actually find the whole thing really cute!” He tells her. “I might be embarrassed if your story were shit, but luckily I’m quite a fan.” Fionn flirts and rests his head against Alana’s chest, kissing it through her clothes.

Alana cradles Fionn’s head in her arms. “I know I’m silly and weird, pet, but for what it’s worth, I meant the things that I wrote. Well… what Harry forced me to write!” She jokes but winds loving kisses into Fionn’s hair and down over his throat. “I meant it a lot, petal, the romantic bits as well as the naughty bits.”

“I know. I can tell that you did, bee, you don’t need to say sorry and I honestly do sincerely appreciate it.” Fionn says. “I appreciate yours and Harry’s unorthodox tactics to deal with your overwhelming love for me!” He jokes between tickles and cuddles and he playfully bites Alana’s shoulder. Lewis wakes up and happily scrambles off into the other room.

“For what it’s worth, Al, I would say everything to you that you wrote in that story, because it’s all completely true, and you deserve to hear it every day, and I’m really proud of you. And I really do love you. And I appreciate everything we have together.” He kisses her firmly and pulls her closer into his lap and against his body. “I love you so fucking much, you adorable weirdo.”

“I love you, Fionn.” Alana sighs out and holds his face tightly up to hers, stroking her thumbs over his cheeks. “I really really love you a lot. Thank you for everything. For putting up with me so well, and for always being so kind.” She kisses his lips. “And wonderful.” She kisses him again. “And pretty.” Another kiss. “And amazing.” Kiss. “And sweet.”

Fionn holds the back of her neck and they kiss quickly through deep breaths. Alana’s hands run down Fionn’s chest and he squeezes the backs of her thighs tightly, moving his hand up her back and into her hair. In the moments Fionn’s lips aren’t held between Alana’s he informs her “We’re reading the rude scenes aloud to each other while we have sex, you know.”

Alana sinks lower onto Fionn’s lap and hurriedly pulls off his jumper. “Yes! God, I know.”

[the-headbop-wraith]

2_31 Seclusion

Such a nebulous sensation.  He was barely aware, could scarcely perceive his immobile body, couldn’t feel his outer-extremities.  Was this what it meant to be comatose?  It was a blur, all of it.  Had he been aware during that time?  Resting and waiting, body and soul mending from a trauma flesh could not endure? Was he not meant to remember the time between, when he was shifted out of existence and lay at the precipice of death? He shuddered internally from the recollection.  Maybe he had blocked the entire thing.  If so, what else could he be blocking?

It came back a little at a time.  Weightlessness, floating.  He was falling.  Falling into the black pool beneath, high above a jewel glimmered against the abyss he had been thrown from.  But really he was above, while simultaneously staring down at himself.  The body below wasn’t his.

If emotion had a descriptive and physical form, Arthur would have recoiled.  He felt himself cringe away, flee the memories, the ambiance.  Pain.  Not there. Not there.  Stay away.

Where was he?  What happened?  What had happened?

The ripples came back, digging through his muscles like ravenous insects nipping; snipping at his nerves, bit-by-bit cutting him away.  Secluding what was Arthur within an emerald haze.  The presence.  Not his mind, not his thoughts, nothing that could be identified as a part of him.  It was a separate entity invading, taking over.

No!  No-no-no-NO! He fought, thrashed, but there was nothing substantial to bring his self against.  He was swarmed, overwhelmed.  Stolen. NO!  “NO! Lewis!  For fucks sakes Lewis!  Look up!  Please! I don‘t – !”

“I’m here, Art.”  The voice was there suddenly, but it lacked solidity.  It was thin and somewhat distant, but no doubt it was Lewis. “Take it easy, you’re safe.”

“You’re here,” Arthur sputtered, awareness reeling.  Blank after blank greeted his puzzlement, he couldn’t remember beyond the falling and the sudden heat in his body.  But he was breathing, and somewhat connected to his inert mold of physicality, but he wasn’t… there was nothing inside this fog of his maimed consciousness.  Somewhere, far back in his cognizance thrummed a steady pulse.  “What? Where… What happened to me?”

There was a span of silence, a void of sound.  The complete absence of being.  “You’re just sleeping,” Lewis says.  “You couldn’t handle the strain, and you collapsed. Just… steady yourself.  Don’t panic.”

Arthur has no vague idea in what sense that Lewis is ‘there,’ let alone existing.  Though, he can pick up on the tension, like a concern nagging at his thoughts as if he forgot something very important.  Lewis’ voice, a projection in his mind, expressed a lingering unease, and palpable worry.  But it was the clearest that Arthur had heard Lewis’ voice come through in a long time.

“I’ve gone insane,” Arthur muttered.  He doesn’t want to think about it.  He doesn’t want to ‘be’ or stress, or anything.  He just wants to sleep and dream of nothing.

“When you wake up,” Lewis goes on, voice nearly transparent.  “Try and… take it slow.  I might not… be able to keep up.  Art, you there?  I want you to understand, I don’t want to be here.”

“Why are you ‘here’?” Arthur responds.  He’s distressed, and he knows Lewis must pick up on it somehow.  Arthur can’t figure how that works but he does know it, like it’s been imprinted in his mind.  “I can’t… Lew’us.  Where— ?” He wanted to admit he was scared, just go ahead and say it, but to make it verbally known made something hitch painfully in Arthur.

Another long pause came from Lewis, the emptiness stretched between them.  The whole situation was bad and it was quickly escalating toward something intolerable.  Finally, Lewis’ answer came.  “I don’t know,” the voice resonates. “I was trying to latch onto your arm, the fake one, and… I guess I overshot.”

“You… overshot?”  Of course, only Lewis was capable of overshooting a target and… oh. “Did you… did you possess me?”  Silence.  Arthur waited a long time; there was nothing present to gauge how long, only the steady thudding somewhere deep and lost in his head.  Lewis, he wouldn’t… he knew the truth, at least that’s what he had said. No, he would never….  “Lewis… I don’t like this,” Arthur yelped, tried to.  He became frantic, panicked; there was nothing to fight, nothing physical; just words and brief snips of colors, and that constraining presence sitting on his sentience.  “I know… I know you don’t give a fuck about what I was made to— and-and…. The possession! But—” Arthur was ill all over again, he could feel it in the core of his chest burrowing deep into his soul and anchoring itself there.  He hated it, it needed to be gone.  “Nah!  No! No!  You hafta… you gotta fix this!  Get outta my head!  Lewis! Let me GO!”

Lewis voice was so faint, Arthur nearly missed it whisper under his internal cries.  “If I could, Arthur, don’t you think I would?”  Something was in the pauses Lewis punctuated his resonate projections with. “It wasn’t my intent, it… I wouldn’t do this to anyone, last of all you. Believe me, I was going for your arm.”

Honestly, hearing that truth didn’t comfort Arthur to any amount. Nothing was exchanged for what felt like ages, the haunting pulse merged its palpitations into something of a hum. Arthur lost touch of it, didn’t care. “I’m asleep because my body was overburdened?”  Arthur murmured.  Old news is old.  “What happens when I wake up?  Lewis?  What do you do?  Lew? Lewis!  Are— ”

“Could you calm down?”  Lewis voice was frail, threaded together only by a persistent desire to remain buoyant. “I’m… not as strong as I seem.  I lost too much of myself, and I thought I would’ve….”  He trails off there.  

It was too much for Arthur to process – the nightmares that plagued his restless nights, the unyielding guilt; the contradictions to his retooled instincts.  Arthur knows Lewis wouldn’t have done what he did unless he absolutely believed his existence was in peril.  It was an accident.  But his mind couldn’t accept this actuality.  Scars… never mended quite right.

“Lew? I’m… I didn’t know,” Arthur burbled.  “I said some things, didn’t I?  I don’t remember… can’t.  But I wouldn’t… y-you get caught up with the worst of—”

“Don’t say that,” Lewis replies.  “Not that, Artie.  You can’t… say such things.”

  __

Hours whisked by.  Soon the sun was descending, the frigid sharpness on the air seeped into everything. Shadows stretched across the walls and congeal around the lone window of the room, while lights outside the dark shelter brighten until the only colors that sift through the thick curtains burn with amber-gold.  The only other color to contrast the gloomy recesses was a blue sheen from a lone computer screen; timid and far spaced ticking comes and goes as the hour draws out. Beyond this world cars chug by, the distant shrill of mechanical engines call from a distant yonder, sometimes the voices of nearby people going on about their day and their lives drift in and out of the small environment contained within the warm room.  As the daylight slowly escaped, it seemed as if the world outside had slowly slipped away as well.  That place was barely a distant memory.  Memories of a place….

Vivi sat on the ruffled covers of the bed, her back braced by a pile of pillows complimentary for the room’s guests.  She passed the time watching internet videos – animations, gif compilations, lol vids; at one point she raised the volume on a kitten vid.  

At the foot of the bed, where he lay beside Arthur, Mystery raised his head from his paws and gave Vivi a curious look.  The dog tilted his head one way then the other, his yellow spectacles flashed against the cyan light.

“Sorry,” Vivi whispered, through a thin smirk.  Mystery wagged his tail and lay his head down, patient and unreadable as always.  Vivi returned to her video, but not before giving the shape under the covers a short glimpse.

Nothing.  Not even a whimper.

Vivi had to drag him the whole way to the motel room.  Arthur’s stiff limbs hung like weights and he made no visible indication that he was still alive, aside from the warmth of his body and the slow beating of his heart.  Throughout the short venture Arthur had reacted in no way to his relocation, not even a shiver in the frigid air.

The night was zipping away, but Vivi hardly noticed.  She did keep track of the minutes and every half hour she would scoot forward to check Arthur, assure herself he was still breathing. His breath had become so shallow Vivi had to avidly search it out.  She couldn’t bring herself to do anything else but wait and let him recover at his own pace.  Medically speaking this might have been unwise, but she didn’t know what else could be done. Aside from hooking Arthur up to a bunch of machines and running tests; lots and lots of tests, with the possibility of Arthur awakening on his own, to a horror scene and maybe no grasp on the exact series of events that led up to his current state.  And Arthur’s wellbeing was not the only one she was apprehensive about.  

Finally, Arthur twitched and coughed.  Tense, Vivi watched as the wad of blankets shifts and stills.  She thought briefly it was an impulse, a fluke of muscle spasms, but a few minutes passed and Arthur began pushing at the covers pinned over his shoulders.  Jostled from his warm spot Mystery hopped off the bed and strolled over to the computer chair, beside a side table that stood adjacent to the bed.  He leapt onto the sunken cushion of the chair and curled down, adjusted his head upon his paws to face Arthur and raised his eyebrows high.

“Art?”  He didn’t react to Vivi’s voice, not at first.  Slowly, Arthur pulled himself out from under the blanket and huddled beneath the heavy shelter of the room.  He tried to raise his prosthetic to his head, but Vivi had removed it early to simplify transporting him.  Arthur stiffened at this realization and held himself motionless, the blankets slipping down the back of his dirt stained shirt.  “Arthur?”  Vivi tries again.

Then he turns to look at her, eyes aflame in the dark room. Vivi took a sharp breath and tugged at the laptop on her lap.  “Lewis?”

Arthur made a face and winced.  He dropped his head and brought his only arm up to rub at his eyelids. “No,” he said, voice hoarse. “He’s here.  I think… you have that?”

Vivi nods.  “I….” She dithers to say, or ask.  “I didn’t want to get my hopes up, in case you… you look terrible.”

“Oh.  Thanks.” Arthur hung his head and closed his eyes.  He loops his one arm around his side and held himself, rocking slightly.  The light from the computer was so-so bright.

“I wanna ask how you’re feeling….  Fuck it.  Are you both okay?”  Vivi shoved the computer aside and leaned forward, reaching out to Arthur’s head. She’d done her best to clean his face and bandage his wound beside his brow, though it wasn’t serious.  She needed something mundane to do, since there was nothing else she could help with.  “Do you understand what’s going on?”  Arthur nodded.  Vivi raised her hands to his face and gripped the sides of Arthur’s head carefully.

“Hold on.”  Arthur took the side of the blanket and tossed it over onto the laptop, just to dose the light a bit.  

Vivi checked his eyes, she didn’t need much light to help.  Arthur’s eyes retained an eerie hue.  “I’m checking for dilation,” she said, as explanation. “It’s like head trauma.  I found a website that had some good information, credible.  At least Mystery thinks…. You had a nosebleed to, not bad.”  She smoothed back Arthur’s hair and released his head.  Arthur looked down.  “Art.”  Vivi lowers a hand to his stronger shoulder and grips it tightly.  “I know you’re in a lot of pain.  But… what else is there?”

Arthur took a slow breath and exhaled.  “It’s not like that,” he murmured.  “The shock of it.  Mostly.” He shrugs Viv’s hand off his shoulder. “It was an accident, but it’s better when I don’t fight.  Lewis… he isn’t comfortable with this at all, I think because it’s me.  Where‘d my arm go?”

Vivi left the bed and snagged the prosthetic off the desk that Mystery was lying beside.  She handed it to Arthur, and held his shoulders a he began swaying again. Instead of attaching the arm, Arthur left it on the bed and pressed the wristband of his good hand across his eyes.

“It’ll be okay,” Arthur mutters.  “I’m just… we’re really exhausted.”

“Is he…?”  Vivi lowered herself to sit beside Arthur on the bed.  She wanted to reach out and touch him, comfort Arthur in some way.  “There?  Talking to you?”

Arthur faintly shook his head.  “I try getting his attention.  It feels like he’s ignoring me, or hiding.  Too much for him.  Too much.” That was only partly true, but Arthur didn’t want to say anything more.  He reached his hand up and tugged at the collar of his shirt.

“Do you need anything?” Vivi asked.  Arthur mumbled a negative tone, hardly audible but Vivi caught it. A car steered by outside on the parking lot, its headlamps flashed across the upper wall of the small room causing Arthur to fold down silently.  Vivi waited until the rumbling engine faded, before she moved to rise, carefully. “I’ll go get you some food and drinks. You’ll need that.”

“I don’t feel much like eating,” Arthur murmured, through his shoulder’s sleeve.

Vivi joined Mystery beside the side table, and gave the hounds cheek a scratch.  “And I don’t want to leave either of you in this state,” she answered.  Vivi had already claimed her shoes where they were left on the floor and slipped the blue foot ware on.  “But Mystery will look after you, and later you’ll probably need something.  I won‘t be gone long.”  She took the laptop off the bed, and Arthur shielded his eyes from the bright screen until Vivi had shut it.  She went into the little bathroom and the light flashed on, the sound of running water came and stopped in short succession.  When Arthur raised his head, he blinked at the bright outline of light shimmering around Vivi’s blue silhouette.  She held a water filled plastic cup out to him. “Drink this.”

“What’s in it?”  Arthur took the offered cup and peered through the side.

“Just water, you dork.  Stay hydrated.”  Vivi revisited the small bathroom and clicked off the light, the rush of dark immediately set Arthur to ease.  “Will you be okay for a few minutes?”  Vivi pressed. She stood near Arthur in the gloom, hands clasped together or tangled with the edge of her sweater.  “I won’t leave if you don’t want me too?”

Arthur raised his arm a bit and motioned for the door.  “No, I… we’ll be fine,” he mumbled.  “Give me a chance to… come ‘round.”  Briefly Vivi fidgeted with her hands, before she leaned down to give Arthur a tight little hug.  

“Don’t work too hard,” she murmured.  Vivi left Arthur where he sat and crossed the room; on her way out she snagged one bag off the low bench placed near the room’s door and stepped out into the bright, cold night.  The soft sputter if the heater geared up, overreacting to the timid puff of white flurries that swept in through the open door.  Upon her departure the atmosphere of the room thinned, it became open and vacant. Empty.  Though, Mystery was still there.

Once Vivi was gone Mystery raised his head and looked over the chairs armrest, to view Arthur.

“Hey bud,” Arthur burbled, clumsily.  Even with that comforting presence, Arthur was the least bit solaced. “I’m good.  Don’t worry about it.  It… that doesn’t help.”  Mystery reversed the position of his paws on the chair cushion and gave a very large yawn. Arthur checked the dog once more, as Mystery lowered his head down to his paws.  Those eyes though, they remained on him.  

Arthur’s breath quivered as he raised the plastic cup to his lips and took a sip, only to wince and choke.  It took a brief pause for Arthur to get some control over himself, but once he managed he held the cup up and pressed the soft texture of the cheap plastic to his forehead.  If he held still the pain would subside, but stubbornly it lingered.  The tinges of his vision pulsed with the yellow haze from the curtain, its radiant colors made him sick; the idea of engine exhaust and cigarette smoke made him sick; breathing made him sick.  He wished, he prayed for the searing pulse in his head to fade, but it was impervious to mental persuasion.  

“Are you there?” Arthur mused, mentally probing for the shade that was not a piece of his mind.  “Lew?”  His mind felt vacant of that other presence, though his body was thoroughly convinced it was there.  Arthur waited as an aching burn soothed out of his skull; he nearly crushed the cup of water, he was gripping it so tightly.  “Say something.  Anything.  Are you… are you able to go through my memories?”

A low rasp came, easily identified as Lewis. Hearing the resonance in his head, while aware and awake, and unclouded by the haze of unconsciousness, it was different.  Arthur was scarcely certain if he was not insane.  A toneless whisper whistled, “No.”

Arthur waited for an elaboration, a vague out of context comment from Lewis, but the spirits responses were waned.  Lethargic.  “You’re not going to?  Or… you can’t tamper with my thoughts?  I mean, would you?  Lewis!”  Arthur was terrified by what the response might be, even if it were a deception to alleviate his concerns.  Arthur just needed some sort of answer.

Arthur leaned far to his side, eyes squinted tightly shut. Nothing helped.  He could hear Mystery in the dark, the bright red collar, bright-bright, vibrant red, collar, jingling as the dog adjusted his head accordingly to Arthur’s movement.

“Even if I could,” Lewis voice threaded through the pain, barely audible over the throbbing of Arthur’s blood. “I wouldn’t want to understand what’s in your mind.”

For some reason, Arthur nodded.  Lewis probably knew or couldn’t care, Arthur himself was barely able to stay conscious.  He leaned over in the dark and set the cup on the nightstand beside the bed.  He nearly dropped sideways, briefly forgetting the lack of his arm when he had lowered his shoulder to the bed.  His remaining arm caught the side of the blankets and tightened on the fabric, biding time till the vertigo waned.  It took a good while but Arthur had obtained a small slither of euphoria that promised he could stand without collapsing.

Thin scraps light entered from the window curtains and crept across the room to fall over the lumps of bags, sagging on a foldable bench placed beside the opposite wall.  Dull hues of yellow slip across the polished particle wood of the side desk, where the neglected television was setting.  A random lurch of movement in Arthur’s peripheral startled him, but he eased himself quickly when he raised his hand in defense towards the glossy surface of obsidian hovering low in the dark.  

Just his reflection.  No shadows. No looming shapes, pale faces, smoldering flames.  Arthur listened for a moment to the dull thud of his heart in the near silence of the room. It always comforted him at night, once he settled down in the aftermath of a night terror.  The thought of those dreams raised the bottomless dread in him, and he raised a hand to grasp at his chest.

From the corner came a low groan.  Mystery.  Impatient, waiting for him to do something interesting.  Arthur gave a low snigger as he began to paw around at the bags on the cotton bench.  A little rasp of relief slipped from him, when his hand brushed over the familiar fabric pattern of his travel bag.  He wriggled the zipper loose with his thumb and forefinger, and managed to get his thumb through the small opening.  It took no effort to work the bag open.  

How many times had he done this?  In spooky homes with no light, while something venomous lurked; or in the back of the van while Vivi slept.  He pushed aside some vials, a piece of graphite, a random article of clothing, a small pocket knife… there.  He plucked out the little container and ran his thumb along the lid. Wrong one.  He pushed the bottle aside in the bag, and dug around a bit more. This was the one.  He could identify the groove carved in the top easily.

Mystery’s tag clicked as the dog moved – probably raised his head curiously – when Arthur knelt down.  Vivi had already taken his shoes off, so Arthur need only to stuff the container’s base between his toes.  It took some skill and effort but once he had the bottle secure, Arthur gripped the top and pushed down, then twist.  The top came off no problem.

Arthur relocated his carry bag on the bed, and sat down near the nightstand.  On the chair across from him Mystery’s eyes gleamed as the dog watched his companion’s actions intently.  “Don’t worry,” Arthur spoke.  “I‘m just… take one.  I gotta cut this.”  Mystery vague shape tilts his head and moved his ears apart.  Eventually, the hound does lower his head to chair cushion.  “I serious… doubt slippin’ a knife under the mattress is gonna help.”  Arthur takes a small tablet and drinks the rest of the water.

It would take a while for the effects of the pill to work. Arthur stashed the bottle back in his bag and lay down on the bed, slowly.  The dark fringes around his eyes pulsed, god it felt like his brain wanted to erupt inside his skull.

“Lewis?”  There was no answer.  “You freaked Vivi out really bad.” Nothing still, and the faint thudding had nearly vanished from his mind.  “You… Lew?  You’re not gonna control me, or anything?”

“Shhh.”  Hissed in his mind.  “Rest a bit.”

“I’m trying,” Arthur whispers, aloud.  The night before seemed like eons ago, a bad dream, the forest sprite squealing, the heavy scent of cinder.  Arthur… didn’t want to ask Lewis what had happened to the hostile.  Arthur had never seen the sight of it before.  Never, since….  “Lew.  For… how long are we stuck like this?”

The response took its good sweet time before Lewis rasped out, softly. “Slow down, Art.” His disembodied voice faded in and out, sometimes clear but Arthur had to pay careful attention or the wording would begin to garble off.  “I can’t separate… can’t manifest on my own.  It wasn’t simple to… make you aware I was present in the first place.  I tried….”  The dimming pause came.  Arthur decided he didn’t like it when Lewis was silent.  “Take it slow.  Calm. I don‘t know how…..” Then the voice faded off and did not come back.  Arthur waited, growing anxious in the minutes that followed.  The reply hadn’t ended abruptly, but it was left unfinished.

“Lew?  Lewis?”  Arthur didn’t take the sleep aids, he was sure.  Or maybe he did, he wasn’t thinking straight, his head hurt and his shoulders ached.  There was no one portion of him that was not in pain.  What if they had an adverse effect on him due to the possession? Medications.  Many were sometimes wrongly prescribed in similar cases, but Arthur couldn’t have known.  He should have asked first.  But Lewis was aware enough, he knew what Arthur was doing, should have known. Wouldn’t he?  At least, that’s what Arthur wanted to believe.  The room’s dark walls and pale edges began to blur, the contrasting hues of gold and blue melted together and swirled.  Falling….

Falling….