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pi-cat000 · 4 years

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MSA: Winged Arthur AU (part 13)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11 , Part 12

Note: Backing up a bit with a Lewis POV

“I’m telling the truth!” Lewis reaches towards Vivi like he’ll be able to physically close the distance between them. He tries stamping down his flames, which are leaping about, mirroring his emotional distress. Maybe, if he looks human, she’ll be more sympathetic.

“Please.” All he needs is a chance to explain and make her understand that the Arthur she is protecting isn’t the person she thinks he is.

Her expression hardens into a glare. The front door to Kingsman Mechanics’ is slammed which such force that it rattles the frame. For a long moment, all Lewis can do is stand, stunned, with his arm outstretched. Flames run down its length, eating away at the human illusion, leaving black cloth and a skeletal vestige behind. Slowly, he clenches his hand into a fist, which alights a bright purple, letting off a frustrated yell. A column of fire shoots up into the air.

Conflicted, Lewis tries to follow Vivi but, as soon as he steps in close to the building, he is stopped by some unseen barrier. It smothers his flames and saps him of energy, leaving him weirdly exhausted. Accompanying this process is a sense that he is very unwelcome and should leave right now. A ward of some sort? Lewis has come across a few in his brief time as a ghost, and trying to force his way through had never ended well.

Upset, he steps back to stare longingly at the door. Around him, flames creep out over the ground, feeding on his frustration. The fire is halted by the same barrier. Why? Vivi acted like he was a monster. He’s not…Lewis glances around and realises he’s set the whole front driveway, and all the scattered debris, alight. Shame creeps up on him, settling in alongside the anger. It’s not the first time he’s lost control since awakening.

It is a deliberate effort, but he manages to cut his emotions off from the flames, leaving them to wither and die without fuel. Luckily, they don’t ‘burn’ inanimate objects, meaning the driveway is unscathed. The same protection is not extended to other living creatures. Lewis grimaces. He has almost burnt Vivi several times now. That wasn’t counting him running her off the road. Lewis glances over at Arthur’s van which is a twisted mess of steel. She could have died.

What’s wrong with him?

Lewis circles the workshop, attempting to find an alternative entrance. He needs to explain himself. He needs Vivi to understand and remember who he is. Once she knew the context for his death and Arthur’s true nature, she’d understand…right?

“…I have is this feeling that I know him, the ghost that is, from somewhere...”

The sound of Vivi’s voice drifts through one of the glassless windows. Lewis inches as close to the window as he dares, trying to see in. The barrier doesn’t let him get near enough for a good view, forcing him to crouch and listen instead.

“…Did we meet on a case or something?”

“Not quite….” Lance answers, voice less angry now he’s not aiming a gun at Lewis. The is no sound of Arthur, meaning the traitor is either not in the room or still unconscious.

“Yeh know that thing… The thing Arthur’s been searchin for this last few years.”

“Yeah…of course I do. I mean I should, I’ve been here for most of it.” Vivi responds, then pauses before adding, “Lewis is connected to my memory loss, isn’t he?”

It makes Lewis’s heart ache, to hear Vivi talk as if he is a stranger who’s motives needed to be dissected like he’s one of her mysteries.

“That thing… not really a thing at all. More of a person. A person who went missing the night yeh lost ya memories and Arthur lost his arm.”

“…and this person is Lewis,” Vivi finishes to which Lewis frowns.

“That’s the name.”

The are several seconds of long silence while Lewis waits anxiously for Vivi and Lance to continue talking. Why would Arthur search for him after murdering him? It would explain why no one came looking for him. Lewis had always suspected that something might have gone wrong when no one came to collect his body.

“That ghost…the one outside…is he the same Lewis?”

Yes! He is Lewis. He came back.

“No idea.”

Vivi continues, her tone sharp and angry, making Lewis wince. “Because he was pretty intent on hurting Arthur. Why would Arthur want to find someone who’d want to hurt him?”

“The three of ya were close friends for years. Did everything together. Don’t know nothin about wraiths, but if it wants ta hurt Arthur, then it’s not the Lewis Arthur is searching for.”

“Surely, I would remember someone that important? Or Arthur would have mentioned him.”

“The kid tried,” Lance answers, “Multiple times. Whatever got the memories, it targeted Lewis and stopped yeh from retainin any info about him.”

It was a ruse? It had to be a ruse. Arthur must be putting on the appearance of trying to find him to cover up his murder. Though, if Vivi ready had forgotten everything about him, like this conversation implied, then what would be the point of a that? Lewis massages the floating heart at his chest, trying to relieve some of the tension. If Vivi had been Arthur’s goal, then why bother to search for him? Unless Arthur is telling the truth about not remembering.

“I knew it.” Vivi comments, “There is a connection between all the missing memories. It’s not random. No wonder Arthur always got upset when I asked questions.”

If Arthur hadn’t been the one to erase him from Vivi’s memories then who? Why? Hadn’t he suffered enough? Wasn’t dying enough torture?

“…But I remember now. Well, I recognised the name at any rate…so that’s something. A wraith is an embodiment of anger and pain. When a person dies, and the circumstances surrounding the death are traumatic enough, their negative emotions trap them between here and wherever souls go. That’s what the books say.”

Lewis doesn’t want to listen anymore. He can’t bear to hear Vivi talk like he’s a monster. And yet he feels he can’t move. Not yet.

“You said Lewis disappeared the night Arthur…When Arthur lost his arm. What if, whatever happened back then, it killed this person…Lewis. I mean, we already know the event was bad enough to give us both blackouts, and god knows Arthur gets enough nightmares from the incident. Maybe it was bad enough to create a wraith. Of course, that still doesn’t explain why it wants to hurt Arthur. If you are right about us being friends and stuff, it shouldn’t be targeting us.”

“The Lewis I remember wouldn’t have hurt either of yeh…” Lance grunts.

Lewis stumbles upright, wrenching himself away from the window. The fire is back, more subdued now it is fuelled by pain as opposed to anger. Instead of bright purple, the flames are dark, almost black. This is all wrong. This isn't how his revenge is supposed to play out. With Arthur not remembering his death and Vivi not remembering him at all.

Hastily, Lewis makes his way to the opposite side of the crashed semi-trailer, so he has a view of the Tempo desert. It is empty, a flat plane of nothing stretching to the horizon. The perfect target for a long stream of fire which shoots out in a line. Lewis lets it grow and feed off his unstable emotions.

‘A wraith is an embodiment of anger and pain.’ During his time alive, Lewis had skimmed many of Vivi’s books on the supernatural. Hard not to when she carried them around everywhere. A wraith was a malevolent spirit that brought indiscriminate death and destruction on those around it. Described as evil, uncaring, unthinking, they thrived off the pain of their victims.

Lewis never planned on killing Arthur. All he wanted to do was force out the truth and get some closure. Maybe, scare the shit out of him in the process. Yet, in that moment, as he was chasing Arthur down, he hadn’t cared. Then he had thrown Arthur off the cliff, mimicking his own death. It hadn’t been satisfying. In fact, he had felt pretty bad afterwards. Really bad. Like he’d made a huge mistake.

He'd killed Arthur and regretted it. Or, he thought he had killed him…Arthur wasn’t dead after all.

Lewis summons his smaller companions, affectionately named Deadbeats. They are all a little shaken from having one of their compatriots severely injured by Vivi, so only two, the bolder of the bunch, answer his call.

“What’s wrong with me?” He asks.

The two Deadbeats glance at each other, bobbing up and down, which is pretty much their standard response to most questions. Deadbeats were little more than a manifestation of his fire, made semi-sentient through bonding with weaker wisps and spirits. He still takes solace in their reaffirmation.

Letting his fire simmer down, Lewis recalls his memory of the cave…of Arthur pushing him and smiling. The single, blurred, frame of memory is all he has from that night. He compares it to memories from his life before, which are equally hazy. Like half-forgotten dreams.

“I’m still Lewis.” He is just angrier. Rightfully angry. He’d been murdered! Anyone would be angry about that. Though, re-evaluating his motivation, the anger, while still destructive, is more directionless now. For the first time since dying, he doesn’t know what he wants.

Lewis is unsure how long he stands there, stewing in a mix of anger, confusion, pain and regret, but it must have been a while because the sun starts to lighten the sky. He is about to return to Kingsman Mechanics and maybe try and sort something out with Vivi and confront Arthur again when a strip of white appears on the horizon. The longer he watches it, the thicker the white band grows, heading in his direction. A wave of white, speeding across the desert. The ground under him shakes, and Lewis floats a few feet into the air, eyeing it with apprehension. It is a good thing he does because, without warning, several trees sprout from the dirt and rocket upward. With white bark and twisted limbs, the trees curl toward the sky, forcing him to dodge to avoid them.

Confused, Lewis stares at the forest growing around him.

Note: Kudos to an answrs who guessed the eavesdropping plot point back around part 9 XD. hope this lived up to any expectations.

#mystery skulls animated #MSA #fanfiction #fanfic #Lewis pepper #Vivi Yukino #WINGS!#winged-arthur #descriptions of violence #lewis re-evaluates his reason for existing #angst #all the angst

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onelongdrive · 7 years

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THE FREE SPIRIT IS PETER BEACH (fc: jeremy allen white) AND THEY WILL BE PLAYED BY HALEY!

please send in your page link within the next 24 hours. welcome to the road trip!

learn more about peter below.

ooc information

name and pronouns: Haley, She/Her

age: 19

timezone: CST/Central Time, Texas

ic information

character requested: The Free Spirit

character name: Peter Beach

face claim: Jeremy Allen White

age: 25

gender/pronouns: Male, He/Him

sexual orientation: Mostly straight, but not entirely. He’s never put too much thought into it.

meet your character

All You Need Is Love! Peter Beach will happily belt the words to that infamous Beatles song if ever given the opportunity. Peter loves love. It’s what makes the world go round, as the cliche says. Love has been what has defined him for as long as he could possibly remember. In his youth, this was best exemplified in the love shared between him and his parents. Patterson and Victoria Beach were a typical eccentric couple typical to Shadow Creek. Patterson managed to the town library and Victoria was a teacher at the local junior high. They were a happy, settled couple who lived a quaint and peaceful life in their small two bedroom house. They were the ones to show Peter what it meant to live positive.

His dad was goofy, and silly and liked to take silly pictures of his wife and son. His mother was giggly and fun and she liked to fill their house with her paintings. They doted on their son Peter and showered him with kindness and affection, while also stressing the importance that he do the same. His childhood was filled with fun and games and family traditions. Each Halloween, he dressed up and went trick-or-treating. On Thanksgiving, he rode with his parents to his grandparent’s house for a lively dinner followed by an even rowdier watch of the football game happening. When Christmas rolled around, he dutifully put out the cookies and milk for Santa, even after he had long stopped believing.

This wholesome upbringing plays a great part in why Peter is the way that he is. His most core values are heavily influenced on who his parents are. If you ask him, there is nothing more important than kindness and acceptance. These beliefs paved the way for his time in school and allowed him to collect a bunch of close friends. To those he went to school with, Peter was considered a fairly quiet, but sweet boy. He could be seen around campus using pencils as drumsticks on whatever surface was nearest to him. It was also no secret that he was musically inclined, especially when he became old enough to be invited to high school parties. As cliche and stereotypical as it sounds, he was the guy in the corner that would ask if you wanted to hear him play Wonderwall.

It was at one of these parties that he first realized that he might be falling for Olive Graff. She was beautiful and enticing and he wanted nothing more than to know her. He didn’t know what it was exactly that caused his feelings for her to change. It was like one day she was just his friend, and then suddenly she was the girl of his dreams. He was always too scared to approach her. What if she thought he was ridiculous? What if she told everyone that Peter Beach made an absolute fool of himself by asking her out. Of course, he knew that she was kind and nice and probably wouldn’t, he still couldn’t get his brain to stop scaring him with the possibility. This was a downside of Peter. He cared far too much about what people thought of him. He wanted to be liked by all and loved by many. He was terrified to do something if he thought it would cause him social strife, which meant he often stayed silent about things concerning him, to the detriment of himself.

He never had been the type to rock the boat.

Still, even though Olive had no clue about his feelings, he was still a happy person. She was his friend, as was everyone else, and that was all he really needed. Or so he thought, anyways.

He’d been at the party immediately following graduation. As if the universe were giving him a sign, the day had been exceptionally bad. He’d argued with his mother about college, or more specifically, his lack of. She wanted him to do something with school following graduation, even if it was at the community college. All Peter wanted to do, however, was play music. Obviously, his mother did not quite share his confidence. He broke his phone later that night too, which was why he had been more reserved than usual at the party on that fateful night. Ironically, he had been the closest he’d ever been to telling Olive about his feelings. That is, until he caught sight of her arguing with Bryson. He’d quickly dipped away, not wanting to get involved in something like this and went back to his usual state of being far too cowardly to say what he felt.

It was only a few hours later when he’d heard what happened.

Like everyone else, this absolutely crushed him. Olive, the love of his young life, was dead. As a result of drunk driving too. It took everything in his being to not lash out at the boy who did it. They were friends, but none of that mattered now that Olive was dead. It was only when his mother reminded him to think of all sides and how everyone must be feeling, that he calmed down.

Sort of. It was hard to fit the exact definition of “calm” in a situation like this.

Olive’s death had a tremendous impact on their small town. Peter watched from a distance as all of his friends scattered across the world. He chose to stay. He worked at the Dairy Queen across from his old high school for six months following that night. He felt directionless and lost. He didn’t feel like he could make it on his own but he drowning by staying. Olive was all that he could think about. He couldn’t stop beating himself up for not telling her how he felt. He felt like a coward, less of man. He needed to grow a spine. It became clear to those closest to him that Peter needed a change.

One morning, just like any other, Peter had headed downstairs for breakfast. He was in his Dairy Queen uniform and was preparing to go and work a double shift. His father and mother were waiting for him and it was clear from the look on their faces that they wanted to talk. So they did. They talked long and hard about Peter’s place in life and expressed their concerns that he wasn’t growing. They told him that he needed to do something, anything.

So he did.

After his shift, he sat down and pooled together every penny that he had. Once he did that, he asked his parents if they would match him. They did.

Scared, confused, but slightly hopeful was how Peter felt as he boarded the greyhound bus that was heading from South Carolina to Alabama. When he arrived, he immediately boarded another bus that took him to Louisiana. One crazy night in New Orleans, and he was on his way to Texas. He arrived in Houston, spent another two nights there, before boarding one last bus to Austin. This is where he would stay for years to come. It was the live music capital of the world, and he planned to take advantage of it.

Before long, he fell into the city’s culture. He started smoking cigarettes, found himself dabbling in different psychedelic drugs, and ended up in a two bedroom apartment with five other people. A few months later, he started a band with some friends. They named it Indoor Creature. This was Peter’s life. For the next six years, he lived in peace and happiness. Olive was still on his mind. He never had found anybody else to make him feel the way that she did. But he had healed, for the most part.

Now, he’s on his way back to Georgia to embark on some insane cross country road trip with everyone Olive cared about. He can’t believe that he somehow made the list. He’s excited, maybe this will be finally what he needs to be completely happy and whole again.

#accepted

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onelongdrive · 7 years

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let me tell you a few things about peter beach.

their heart is too big and their heart is too soft.

they will offer help before ever asking for it.

they love you, they love you, they love you.

they loved me, too, but they never got the chance to tell me.

that probably sounds narcissistic, and you know what? that’s fair. because, like, i totally am. i don’t mean to be, but whatever. if the dead girl’s boot fits, or whatever.

but it’s not supposed to be. it’s just the truth. because when you die, you kind of get to tap into that sort of shit. you get to learn that kind of stuff. and i learned that. i learned that they loved me. i learned that they were going to tell me, and they never got to. because everything was over, and the chance was ripped away from them.

they were always so fucking happy, you know? they were the one that always greeted you with a smile, with a hug, with a bouquet of flowers that they probably weren’t supposed to swipe out of their mother’s garden but did anyway.

and they’re still that person. even now. even after everything. but it’s wearing on them. the wear and tear of what happened is starting to rip through the cracks, seep through them and pour out. they don’t want to look like they’re not okay, because they want to be okay for everyone.

it’s just not that easy.

learn more about peter below