That was the first thing he felt when he came back to. The second thing he felt when he woke up was the thick, heavy ropes pinning his hands behind the back of a metal chair.
His sight came back slowly. Blurry images and lights slowly focused into unfamiliar shapes and spaces. There was a figure in front of him... was it Moon-Hae?
Arthur frowned. No, wait, it wasn’t... that figure was too bulky... then who was this...?
His eyes finally focused, and Arthur screamed.
It looked like an ogre. Brightly colored skin, huge tusks protruding from its mouth, and horns sticking out a neatly combed tuft of hair. The figure looked terrifying, but was also very well-dressed. The suit was somehow tailored to fit the body of a being that no normal human would’ve fit in---Arthur would’ve appreciated the look if he weren’t petrified in place.
The tall being cringed, and tried to hush the puppet by bringing their finger to their lips. They held a large, crudely-made club---a piece that really didn’t match the whole sharp, formal get-up they were wearing.
Shockingly, Arthur listened and instantly shut himself up.
The being left him alone as soon as he shut up, turning their attention to something elsewhere in the room.
As the puppet struggled to keep himself calm, he took a quick scan of what he could see of the room. It was dark (great), lit by two small lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling. One hovered over Arthur, and the other illuminated the area nearby the door in front of him.
---it turned out it wasn’t the only door in the room. There was a creak of hinges opening behind him, then the click of a door closing. Several footsteps filled the room, with one pair being considerably louder than the other. Arthur tensed right before a hair of hands reached out from the darkness, and---
---squished his cheeks.
Arthur blinked for a few moments, startled out of his skin and confused, before snarling, shaking his head, and trying to snap at the hands cupping his face in place. The hands immediately shot back, followed by a slightly high-pitched laugh.
The figure that held his face came into view---it looked like a human, but there was a strange feline-nature in the figure’s eyes. His hair was pink and choppy, and the grin on his face made him look like he was trying to imitate a cheshire cat.
“So, this is the pet for that Envy demon?” The pink-haired man asked to some people behind Arthur.
“Yes.” Arthur heard that icy voice and immediately grit down on his teeth.
That was Moon-Hae. He was sure of it.
“Please keep your hands off of it, Gavin. As much as humans disgust me, we need to keep this one relatively unharmed. We’ve already took great measures to get the demon’s attention---anything further, and we’ll just be angering them unnecessarily.”
The pink-haired one, Gavin, pouted and whined. “Awww---but I rarely get to be so close to humans like this. This one’s really cute---hey Moon-Hae, y’said it fetches other humans for its Master to eat, right? Can we get a human who could do that for us?”
Moon-Hae let out an indignant noise. “No! This group will not have any humans in it---even pathetic pets like that one.”
“I’m still in the room, y’know...” Arthur grumbled, scowling.
Moon-Hae, of course, ignored him.
Gavin beamed at Arthur’s utterance. “How many humans do you take to your master?”
The question caught him off-guard.
...no one’s... ever asked him that before. And the more he thought about it...
“...a...a-a lot...” He mumbled, averting his eyes. “O-over the past two years... a-a lot...”
Gavin, completely oblivious to the heavy laden guilt in Arthur’s voice, made an impressed sound. “Wow! Moon-Hae, are you sure we shouldn’t get a human pet?”
“I’m sure,” Came the short, biting reply.
The pink haired man clucked his tongue. “Shame, shame. Oh well! Hey, human---how did you get so many humans to your master?”
Arthur opened his mouth, ready to grit out, None of your business, but Moon-Hae cut him to the chase.
“He whores himself out and seduces them. Reminds me a lot of gumiho techniques, actually.”
Irritation snapped at Arthur, and he growled, “Shut up.”
Moon-Hae finally moved from behind Arthur to face him. There was a cruel sneer on his face, and he leered down at Arthur until they were nearly nose to nose.
“But isn’t that what you do? You were going to try and do it to me. We’ve seen how you work, Kingsmen...” He chuckled and pulled back when Arthur snarled. “Oh, but don’t worry. I can understand you––my own kind does similar things for the sake of food. Ah, but the thing is, I don’t like humans nor gumiho that much...”
Moon-Hae’s hand reached out to stroke Arthur’s hair, and the puppet froze, white hot rage welling up deep in his chest. “Don’t you feel bad? We’ve seen through your mask. You’re not happy, are you? It’s such a shame, really---using your body as a slutty bait for your Master’s---”
A door slammed behind Moon-Hae, and Arthur’s eyes widened.
His Master stood at the door in front of them, green eyes glaring underneath the messy purple pomp of hair. His jagged mouth was pulled back to a snarl, and Arthur felt himself recoiling just slightly.
After all, Arthur didn’t like it when his Master was mad.
“I would appreciate it,” His Master growled out slowly. “---if you kept your filthy hands off my puppet, mutt.”
Continuation from here
(quick warning for manipulation, unhealthy relationship, etc...)
Master was home today, so he wasn’t too difficult to find.
The puppet approached his Master’s throne and bowed. His Master, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow.
“You may stand. Is there anything you need, my puppet?”
Arthur stood, and looked up sheepishly at his Master.
Stupid dare, making him do stupid things and making him look stupid in front of his Master---
His tongue seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth for a few moments before he managed to speak up.
“M-may---m-may I kiss your cheek, Master...?”
Master’s eyebrows only rose further, and Puppet felt like eking away.
“...why so suddenly?”
“I-I...” Arthur ducked his head down, face red. Part of the reason was because of that stupid anon dare, but another reason why he wasn’t so appalled about doing it was...
Arthur’s thoughts were interrupted by Master’s voice.
“Ah, never mind. It doesn’t really matter.” Then, he smirked and pat his lap. “C’mere.”
Immediately, Arthur walked over and perched himself carefully on Master’s leg. This was always the spot he sat on when giving or receiving affection from him. As the puppet carefully braced himself by gently placing his hand against Master’s broad chest, he suddenly felt his heart pound faster in his own breast.
He always got affection from his Master as a reward---this was the first time he was simply getting it by asking. It was sending a strange rush of anticipation, anxiety, and excitement through his body.
Master sensed it, and reached up to gently stroke Arthur’s hair.
“Calm down. There’s no need for you to be so nervous, little one.”
Arthur cleared his throat, and glanced down, embarrassed. “I-is this okay? For me to ask for this, w-without even...?”
His gaze was brought back up by a cold hand stroking his cheek. His Master was looking at him with a warm smile that didn’t match his touch---but of course they didn’t match. Master’s body was practically a repurposed corpse.
“It’s fine, Arthur. Now, come on---I’m waiting.”
The puppet hesitated for a few moments. His stomach kept flipping, and his heart kept pounding, and now it felt like his head was spinning---but at the same time, there was an energy welling up inside him...? The anticipation was getting to him, almost overwhelming him. The feeling became so intense and unbearable that felt like he would burst, so Arthur didn’t wait for another moment---he quickly leaned forward, and pressed his trembling lips against Master’s cheek.
Cold.
The skin felt stiff and cold underneath his soft lips.
It should’ve been unpleasant. But instead, his heart leapt.
The puppet pulled away, face red. The sight actually made his Master laugh, a sound that made his chest soar higher.
With a low chuckle, Master stroked Puppet’s own cheek gently, thumb reaching up to brush the green skin near his eye.
“So cute. What a cute little puppet.”
C---cute?
Did his Master just call him---
Before he could process it and rejoice under the endearing praise, Arthur’s Master leaned forward. His vision was filled with his Master’s face, coming closer, and closer until his lips were suddenly caught by colder ones.
His lips were urged open, and Arthur immediately complied. He expected dust and more coldness against his tongue, but much to his shock, he was only met with warmth. Arthur was dazed as the warmth explored his mouth, and only when his Master pulled away did he realized he was just kissed.
By his Master.
“Y-you---you tasted warm,” Was the first thing Arthur managed to stammer out.
“Where you expecting something else?”
“W-well---h-honestly, yes. Your skin is normally cold.”
Embarrassed, the puppet leaned forward and rested his forehead against his Master’s shoulder. Another laugh, this time softer, sounded next to his ear. Master’s hand was brought back up to thread through Arthur’s hair and comb through the blond strands.
Cold fingers lingered on the green strands streaking through his hair.
“Did you like that?”
“Th-the---the kiss?”
“Yes---what else could I be talking about?”
“---y-yes. I-I liked it.”
Arthur couldn’t see Master’s smirk from his position.
“If you want another one, just come find me and ask.”
The puppet’s eyes widened, and he pulled back to look at his Master, only to find warm, welcoming eyes.
“R-really?”
“Yes, really. Does that sound good, Arthur?”
Arthur’s chest was fluttering nonstop. He couldn’t even tell what was excitement or anxiety anymore. It was all mixing up---he couldn’t find the hands to dig into that mess and untangle it all, and there were too many things blocking him from moving his hands anyway.
Desire.
Affection.
Want.
He sought out affection and approval from his Master all the time---he craved his contact, and now, he was allowed to ask for something so electrifying like a kiss---?
If he weren’t sitting on his lap, Arthur would’ve stumbled because his head was spinning so hard.
“Y-yes. I-it sounds wonderful.”
Master chuckled and continued stroking Arthur’s cheek. “Good.”
When Arthur leaned into the touch and nuzzled into Master’s palm, he chuckled and leaned forward to kiss Arthur’s forehead.
“Who do you belong to, Arthur?”
“...y-you...”
...was that a moment of hesitation there?
Master’s eyes narrowed minutely, but when Arthur shifted so that his face was buried into his Master’s neck, and when he felt Arthur nuzzle against him, the look faded.
He began petting Arthur’s head again, and Arthur made a small noise and closed his eyes.
bold any fears that apply to your muse. italicize what makes them uncomfortable.
Puppet Arthur.
the dark. fire. open water. deep water. being alone. crowded spaces. confined spaces. change. failure. war. loss of control. powerlessness. prison. blood. drowning. suffocation. public speaking. natural animals. the supernatural. heights. death. dying. intimacy. rejection. abandonment. loss. the unknown. the future. not being good enough. scary stories. speaking to new people. poverty. loud noises. being touched.
Tagging @sideswipeslastlogs, @the-beasts-of-legend, @therealmies, @thatpowercouple, @idigihearts1x3 / @blue-bae-and-her-hidden-fox, @bluescarfvivi, and anyone else who wants to do this. ;w;
repost, do not reblog.
(( bonus master and ethan below the cut. ))
Master.
the dark. fire. open water. deep water. being alone. crowded spaces. confined spaces. change. failure. war. loss of control. powerlessness. prison. blood. drowning. suffocation. public speaking. natural animals. the supernatural. heights. death. dying. intimacy. rejection. abandonment. loss. the unknown. the future. not being good enough. scary stories. speaking to new people. poverty. loud noises. being touched.
Ethan.
the dark. fire. open water. deep water. being alone. crowded spaces. confined spaces. change. failure. war. loss of control. powerlessness. prison. blood. drowning. suffocation. public speaking. natural animals. the supernatural. heights. death. dying. intimacy. rejection. abandonment. loss. the unknown. the future. not being good enough. scary stories. speaking to new people. poverty. loud noises. being touched.
He let it slam shut behind him, knowing fully well that such a thing would not hinder him.
Normally, he would’ve held the door for him out of cowardice and fear.
But now, he didn’t do that.
He couldn’t feel anything.
There was a numbness that settled over him that started right after Lance kicked him out. Lewis possessed him, and as a result, Arthur passed out. Lewis broke something, or somethings, and when Lewis let him go, Arthur woke up to a shocked, angry Lance telling him to leave.
He’s never seen his uncle so disappointed and scared of him before.
First Vivi.
Now Lance.
Lewis was trying to ruin him, and he could understand that.
But, involving everyone else into his torment?
That, Arthur couldn’t stand for.
“Well, that went well.”
It was Lewis’ voice that cut through that thick curtain of numbness. Suddenly, white hot rage welled up in his chest faster than the tears in his eyes. Arthur stopped walking, whipped around, and glared at Lewis.
The ghost stopped and looked at Arthur quizzically. He was using his human projection. For some reason, seeing his human face made his anger only worse.
“Why are you giving me that look? Amigo, do you really---”
Something in Arthur
s n a p p e d.
Blood roared in his ears and, before Lewis could finish talking, Arthur took a step forward and punched Lewis right across his face. The ghost was too shocked to respond, and Arthur didn’t wait. He grabbed Lewis by his collar, shook him, yelled at him---
---Arthur didn’t even know what he was saying. He couldn’t tell if he was pouring out his anger and pain at him, or if he was just yelling hurt nonsense. His ears rang too horribly for him to even hear himself.
In the corner of his eye, he noticed a glimpse of red and white--- Mystery?
Was he here?
---why wasn’t he doing anything?
Was--- was he just watching this?
Lewis stared up at Arthur with wide purple eyes, his left cheek reddening by Arthur’s sudden, harsh blow.
And just as quickly as it started, it stopped--- Arthur let go of his white collar, dropped Lewis on the ground, and walked briskly back out the door. When he heard Lewis stand up, Arthur stopped and whipped around. His expression must’ve been something vicious because Lewis immediately froze.
Oh, his hearing came back...
“D-do not follow me.” Arthur commanded, voice cracking with rage and emotion.
Then Arthur ran and slammed the door shut behind him.
He didn’t really know where he was running to.
Was he running away from home? Possibly. Vivi hated him. Lance hated him. Lewis obviously hated him--- what about Mystery?
---he probably didn’t care. Arthur felt his chest clench horribly when he remembered seeing the dog hiding in the hallway, watching as Arthur yelled and punched Lewis.
The rain helped blend his tears into the water, but the rainwater couldn’t hide the tightness embedded deep in his chest, nor could it help relieve the pressure that seemed to nearly crush his lungs.
He only stopped running when he could no longer see town. His feet were muddy, socks completely soaked, but he was used to that. Lewis gave him a lot of practice, throwing him into the dirt almost every night.
With a choked sob, Arthur collapsed against a large tree. The rain was bad now. It fell heavily, drowning all sound in the rush of water hitting the earth, the trees, the wood and everything else around him...
The sound swallowed up the heart-wrenching cries Arthur wailed out.
And it even swallowed up the footsteps of a demon that he didn’t notice until it was right in front of him.
When Arthur finally noticed the pair of feet in front of him, he stopped crying, lifted his head from his arms, and slowly trailed his gaze up from the pair of dark shoes, up to dark colored pants, to a black jacket... and finally, Lewis’ face.
It wasn’t Lewis though. Arthur realized that nearly right away. The face was contorted horribly two a twisted grin that not even Lewis could pull off. The teeth were sharp canines, and when he looked up, he found that its eyes were a sickening green instead of purple.
It was the demon from the cave, somehow possessing Lewis’ dead body.
Both of them knew that he should’ve been afraid. Arthur could clearly see the malicious intent on the demon corpse’s face, but no matter how hard he tried, he...
...just couldn’t bring himself up to care.
So Arthur only gave the demon a blank look, before dropping his head back to his arms.
“If you’re going to kill me, then just get it over with it. I don’t care anymore.”
The rain-filled silence that followed betrayed the demon’s obvious shock.
“Are you serious?” It sounded like Lewis, but its voice was more scratched, and just a bit more lower.
“Yes.”
Arthur waited for some form of pain to rain down on him, but none came.
The demon sighed. “It’s no fun if my target just wants to die. Takes out all of the excitement.”
“Oh, really,” Arthur responded dully, without much conviction in his voice.
There was another long pause that followed. What was this demon waiting for? If he was waiting for a funner chance to kill him, he was wasting his time–– no amount of time was going to make Arthur care anymore.
---so what was he waiting for?
Finally, the demon moved. Surprisingly, Arthur didn’t flinch when Lewis’ corpse sat down next to him. He slowly lifted his head, and suddenly felt his throat tighten when the demon’s expression was no longer one of malice, nor boredom, nor disappointment.
---why was it giving him such a warm look?
“...Arthur, right? It looks like you’ve been through a lot these past few days. I could see the burns through your shirt---” Arthur immediately hugged himself, trying to hide the offending marks. “---would you like to talk about it?”
He watched the demon warily. “...I thought you wanted to kill me.”
“I did, but like I said--- it’s hardly worth my time when the other isn’t stricken with fear or anger. It just gets boring. Now--- I have all the time in the world. I can lend you a ear.” He looked at Arthur carefully, and Arthur started to shake.
“Go right ahead. I do not mind.”
...should he really spill what happened to this demon? This was the demon that ruined his life. The monster that made Arthur kill Lewis in the first place.
Why should he trust it?
...and why shouldn’t he?
It wasn’t like Arthur cared about what happened to him anymore.
As long as he didn’t get involved with Lewis, Vivi, or Mystery ever again, then he didn’t care at all.
And so, Arthur opened his mouth... and told the demon, the monster that ruined his entire life... everything.
He started slowly, but as soon as he got used to talking, he started pouring like the onslaught of rain pounding down all around them. He talked about his childhood, his friendships with Vivi and Lewis, the fear that struck him when he realized that he not only liked Lewis, but Vivi as well, the anxiety, the depression, the cave, the search, the possessions, the burns...
And throughout the whole thing, the demon looked at him and listened with what looked so much like genuine intent and concern. Eventually, it made Arthur’s voice choke up, and he began sobbing again.
Much to his shock, the demon reached forward and stroked Arthur’s face comfortingly, before pulling him into a hug.
The embrace was cold (it was a dead body he was hugging, he should’ve figured) but this--- this was the first comforting act Arthur’s felt in what seemed like forever.
And not only that, despite the coldness, it felt like Lewis---
Arthur let out another choked cry, and buried his face into the wet shoulder as he was gently hushed.
“It’s alright, Arthur, it’s alright...”
He couldn’t respond much with his sputtering and babbling, but the demon nodded to his nonsense words anyway.
“---Arthur.”
The mechanic made a small noise of acknowledgment, eyes puffy and red from crying. It felt like his entire being hurt...
“...dear Arthur, would you... like to strike a deal with me?”
He woke up feeling a wave of nausea and confusion. For a moment, he was feverish, body too hot, night clothes clinging to his body from sweat, and heart racing too fast, but just as quickly as it happened, the feverish spell stopped.
That was when the confusion hit him.
His surroundings... this was... his room, back at his Master’s lair, wasn’t it?
What was he doing here? Last time, he thought he was at...
He hesitantly crawled out of his bed, startled to find that his left arm was back. Arthur stared at the green skin, eyes wide and slightly light-headed.
Was... was this all just a dream, then?
...what exactly happened...?
Barefooted, Arthur carefully crossed the room, still disoriented and confused. Everything was exactly where it was... his room was left unchanged, his arm was back where it was, and a quick look at the mirror proved that, yes, his collar was still on.
...did... something happen? Arthur thought back to the events of the past few days... surely, that wasn’t a dream, was it...?
Unnerved and slightly frightened, Arthur put on his shoes and slipped from his room to look for his Master. The air was chilly, and his nightclothes didn’t keep him warm, but he payed no mind to the cold.
Arthur pushed the door open carefully. But before he could peek out, his Master’s voice spoke out first.
“Is that you, Puppet?”
He sucked in a deep breath, exhaled, then peered from behind the heavy doors and nodded.
His Master stood in front of his throne, expression unreadable and eyes hidden under his hood of purple hair.
“What do you want?”
"I-I...” Arthur swallowed back the tightness constricting his throat, then spoke again. “I-I wished to see you, Master... I-I... am a bit confused...”
“Come here.”
Arthur immediately obeyed. He crossed the room and stood a few steps away from the throne. His Master closed the space between them and raised his hand. Arthur flinched, but the hand did not strike down. Instead, it gently cupped Arthur’s cheek, and Arthur blinked and stared down, eyes wide.
“How much do you remember?”
“I-I--- I’m sorry?”
So--- it wasn’t a dream after all. How strange, because it sure felt like one...
“I-I... not much...” He remembered... moments with his friends... and that... for some reason...
Arthur’s gaze shot up to his Master’s, shocked and startled. He could finally see his Master’s eyes, and yet he still couldn’t see what kind of emotion he had.
“Gray-magic? They... did something to me...?”
Master nodded, cold palm still pressed gently against Arthur’s cheek.
“Puppet... I have one more question to ask you.”
"Y-yes...?”
Green eyes looked down at Arthur. “Do you want to leave me?”
Horror crossed the puppet’s features, and Arthur immediately clung and shook his head. “N-no---! No, Master, I don’t! Pl-please, you aren’t going to---”
Suddenly, Arthur’s vision was smothered, and he felt arms wrap around him and pull him close. And for a moment, Arthur’s heart stopped.
An--- embrace? But--- these were supposed to be rewards. Arthur didn’t do anything. What---?
"You are not leaving me,” His Master reassured, keeping Arthur in his hold. “You belong to me, Arthur.”
Arthur felt his body relax at the affirmation, and, despite the bafflement, melted into his Master’s arms.
“I have been... harsh on you, these days,” His Master muttered slowly. “I should have realized, and I... apologize for that.”
Arthur head seemed to spin.
“But Arthur--- you are important to me. Do not leave me. Will you promise to not leave me?”
He nodded his head, and Arthur felt the arms wound around him tighten. The embrace wasn’t warm--- just like the cave’s chilly, damp air, his Master’s hold had no warmth. But it was an embrace from him nonetheless, and Arthur relished in the feeling of being so protected and encased...
His Master’s lips pressed against his forehead, and he felt them move against his skin---
